by Kenny Soward
Throwing open the door and calling for Ingrid and Crash, Lonnie knelt at the threshold and caught Elsa’s hand as it fell. He pulled her close to him, her body smelling of dirt and blood. But she was alive.
He drew her in, lifted her, and brushed her off all at the same time. Her hair was a ratty, tangled mess. Would have been worse if it was any longer. Her breath smelled like she’d eaten something and it had gone rotten in her mouth. But he didn’t care. He pulled her close—she weighed next to nothing—and hugged her tight. His hands roamed up and down her back, felt the scars trying to heal at the base of her neck and around her spine where the ax had done some pretty serious damage.
He pressed his lips against her cold skin, saying, “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
And then Ingrid and Crash were there, hugging both of them together, all four in a pack and telling Elsa it was all right, giving her words of comfort as she moaned and shuddered in their arms.
“Let’s get her inside,” Lonnie said. And then he noticed the ECC operatives standing in the yard. All of them weaponless except for a few of the guards, they watched the gang’s reunion with flat expressions. Some of them looked disgusted.
Lonnie let go of Elsa and stood at the edge of the porch, lip sneering with disdain. “Thanks for the help, assholes.”
He realized, aside from Bess and Torri, that he was standing in a camp full of their enemies. That if it weren’t for Bess being in charge, they’d gladly take their fade ripper enemies down in a blaze of gunfire.
Once Elsa was inside, Lonnie helped them get her undressed and into bed. The whorchal was in bad shape, although any shape was better than the shape she’d been in the other night. One shoulder was still lower than the other, the torn flesh red and agitated, mending even as they watched. Whatever poultice Torri had applied seemed to have helped, but now the stench of it rose off Elsa in waves. It smelled like burning grass and vomit.
Elsa couldn’t speak, her lips chapped and dry. Her eyes were alive, anyway, moving through stages of emotion. Anger, determination, and fear. They were all there, written on her face.
“Don’t you give up now, girl,” Crash said. “We’re here, and we’re going take care of you.”
The wounded whorchal nodded. One hand clutched Lonnie’s arm. The other, her sister’s.
“We need some water to clean her up,” Ingrid said. “I’ll go. The pond is the closest place.”
“No.” Lonnie didn’t trust those ECC assholes as far as he could throw them. And he couldn’t send Crash and risk another run in with Alex. “I’ll go with you. Crash, you stay with Elsa. Don’t let anyone in unless it’s Torri. Not even Bess.”
“Got it. Nothing’s getting through that door unless it has a big mane of red hair.”
They searched around the room for something to carry the water in and found some empty jars on a shelf next to the fireplace. Lonnie lingered for a moment at the mantle, what amounted to an old branch hacked and hewed to have a relatively flat top, looking at the pictures and other knickknacks lined up there. Some black-and-whites of hill folk sitting on their porches, bare feet and overalls. Girls in dirty farm dresses leaning through rips in the screen doors. One appeared to be a band of sorts, fellas gathered on a porch, all bearded and scruffy. A big guy with chipmunk cheeks blowing into a jug. The washtub bass player grinning as he plucked at a single gut string. A scrawny little banjo player who could have been smiling huge if not for his lack of teeth.
Lonnie and Ingrid grabbed the jars and left Crash and Elsa alone in the room. They walked right past the ECC main operations tent, hearing a flurry of activity inside and suffering some odd looks from the guards.
Who cared? Fuck them.
But then they spotted Alex and Kristanna standing at the edge of the forest, talking quietly.
Lonnie angled left to avoid the pair. They didn’t need another confrontation. Lonnie had no idea how long it would take Elsa to get better, so they might be stuck hanging around these assholes for a few more days at least. And he really did want another chance to talk to Torri.
When they arrived at Pondcliff, they were surprised to find Torri and Bess coming up. Both of them were soaking wet and someone had thrown thermal blankets over them to keep out the worst of the chill.
“Hey,” Bess said as they passed.
Lonnie nodded. “Hey yourself. Morning swim?”
“Yeah,” Bess said, giving up a tentative grin. “You think I’m going to let being up in the Kentucky hills screw with my routine? Ten laps every morning.”
“That’s dedication.” Lonnie hoped Bess wouldn’t hold it against him that the gang wasn’t helping on the raid. Well, it didn’t seem like she was. At least they were talking.
He nodded to Torri as they continued on. The hill witch wrinkled her brow at him as she passed, but he didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing. She always had that sort of dark look on her face. Skeptical, but certain at the same time. As if she knew every damn dirty secret about you but was still giving you the benefit of the doubt.
Ingrid and Lonnie knelt at the pond’s edge. They dipped the jars and got them as full as they dared so they wouldn’t spill any on the way back. Lonnie glanced over his shoulder. Bess, Torri, and the remaining three or four ECC operatives had all gone.
“I hope this stuff can help my sister. It has some kind of magic, eh?”
Lonnie dipped his hand in and took another drink. Closed his eyes and reveled in the clarity. “Yeah. Something. Old Earth magic like Selix used to say. Buried deep but channeled by folks who know how. It clears my head, this stuff. I don’t know if it will help Elsa though.”
“She’ll need blood,” Ingrid said, a quiet tone in her voice.
Lonnie looked up, following Ingrid’s gaze. There was a fat brown rabbit drinking from the pond. Lonnie remembered seeing several skinned hares salted and hanging up to dry around the side of Torri’s place, so he assumed bunnies were on the menu. When he rose, thinking he might use his power to snatch it up, it bolted to the top of the rise, turned, and looked down at them with a twitching little nose.
Ingrid cackled.
“Damn. Can you catch it?”
Ingrid frowned, her vividly red lips turning down. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”
But then the bunny, as if sensing their sinister thoughts, turned and bolted off into the forest.
“Shit.”
Elsa went back to dipping her last jar. “Yeah, shit.”
They had eight jars between them as they made their way back to the cabin. Two arms full of glass and pond water. Enough to clean up Elsa good. As small as this gesture was, it felt strangely cavalier. He’d never taken care a sick person before, and he realized the littlest things could matter to a wounded friend. The thought lightened his heart, and Lonnie picked up the pace.
Halfway back to the cabin, they heard a crackling of branches off to their right, footsteps that weren’t theirs.
“Shh,” Lonnie said, stopping.
“What? Oh.”
That strange little girl they’d seen before, Tavia, squeezed through some briars and stepped onto the trail in front of them. She was barefoot with just her old farm dress on. Her skin appeared raw and chaffed, hair tangled with stickers and twigs. Yet, she wore a big, childlike smile.
“Uh, hi. Tavia, right?”
The girl nodded.
“You are so cute,” Ingrid said. “But you need to shoo away because we’re on a very important mission to clean up my sister.”
Tavia shrugged and held up what she’d been hiding behind her back. It was a fat brown rabbit. Perhaps the very one they’d seed down at the pond. Clearly, by the position of its body in relation to its head, this one’s neck had been broken.
The little girl held it out to them.
Lonnie came forward to accept the gift, then he looked down at his full arms. “I can’t.”
Tavia stepped forward, rose to her tiptoes, and slung the rabbit over Lonnie’s shoulder. The little girl then
crouched and retreated, turned, and tore off back into the underbrush like a startled… Well, like a startled cat.
“Looks like we’ve got something for Elsa to eat.”
Ingrid followed the little girl with her eyes. “Yes, it appears we do.”
It was starting to get dark in the woods even though it was only late afternoon. Lonnie paced the room as Elsa finished her meal. She hadn’t even waited for them to skin the thing, but had torn it apart and was consuming every bloody part of it.
After that, they pulled up some stools around the bed and shot up. A near full dose, this one, so they all felt the nod hard this time, Lonnie laying his head on the mattress near Elsa’s dirty feet.
It was Ingrid who’d come out of it first, taking some small rags Torri had provided and going to work gently cleaning her sister’s skin. Lonnie joined in, wiping her feet and making sure to get out the caked mud from between her toes.
Elsa seemed to be enjoying the attention a great deal. And when Crash gave her some of the pond water to drink, she was finally able to speak.
“Oh, that feels so good,” Elsa said, in a raspy voice. “All we’re missing is some tasty boys to eat.”
“We’ll have to stick to rabbits up here,” Lonnie frowned, finishing the last toe. “And we’ll have to rely on Tavia to get them for us. Unless you ladies are feeling froggy.”
“I am feeling much better. Maybe I will.” Elsa paused, giving a little sigh. “I’m assuming you took care of the little shit who did this?”
“Yeah. Fed him to the wolves.”
“Good. Should have done that ages ago.”
“I won’t disagree.”
Crash got up and went to the window. “Looks like they’re getting ready to move out. Wonder where they’re going to go?”
Lonnie shrugged.
“So, why ain’t we helpin’ again?”
“Because whatever they’re involved in is going to get them killed. And they’re a bunch of assholes. Well, besides Bess.”
“Ain’t you curious about getting back home? Earth is okay, man, but we fit in better back home. We’re gettin’ sick of this place.”
The sisters both agreed.
“Believe me, I’ve been thinking about it. I want to go back as bad as you, but I want to do it on our terms. They could end up at the Seventh Gate if they’re not careful, somewhere far outside the Rim. Is that someplace you want to end up?”
“No. You’re right, Lons,” Ingrid agreed. “I don’t want to come out at the dreaded Seventh Gate, or anywhere but the Rim.”
“Yeah, risky,” Lonnie said, then got up and joined Crash at the window. “But if Torri is tuning the gate for them, maybe she could could do a little tuning to where we want to go.”
“Yeah, man. But do you know where to tune the damn thing? I mean, if Bess and her crew don’t come back, then how is Torri going to help us?”
“I don’t know.”
The ECC operatives were doing last minute checks on their gear in the yard, stuffing waterproof duffel bags full of equipment. They all looked like Navy Seals to Lonnie. Skin-tight suits stretched all the way up around their heads with a narrow portion left open for the eyes, all padded at the shoulders, elbows, hips and knees. All-purpose footwear. Lightweight filtering masks strapped snug around their faces.
They looked like a force to be reckoned with. Lonnie had seen some of this equipment last year in the raid at the Lexington Citadel, but it seemed the ECC had stepped things up to a whole new level. They were ready to fight the Devil.
A figure broke off and walked toward the cabin, stopping just a few steps from the porch. There was no mistaking that athletic body even though her breasts were pressed nearly flat by the outfit, and her face was not the least bit visible. Those square shoulders and thick, runner’s thighs. The way she held herself as if she was about ready to spring at any moment. He couldn’t help but notice the ECC triquetra symbol embedded in the material of her outfit right between her breasts. Part of the suit itself, it seemed. Probably something she’d had added to the design.
Faith worn inwardly and outwardly.
Bess lifted her fist and gave him a thumbs up before rejoining her team.
“May your god bless you on your journey, Bess Winters,” Crash whispered as the ECC commandos formed up and followed their leader into the woods.
Lonnie only shook his head, his stomach twisting for what Bess and her operatives might face on the other side.
Chapter 18
They could only wait as almost a full day passed since Bess and her team crossed over to Hell, day turning into night once more. The ECC operatives bustled around their tent, but there was still now word on how Bess’s team was doing. Kristanna would sometimes come out of the tent to take a break, drink coffee, or kneel to pray. Many of the dozen or so remaining operatives did the same thing, sometimes kneeling in twos or threes, clasping their hands together in a sign of unity.
While part of him scoffed inwardly at this display, another part of him saw it was a peaceful, quieting pursuit. In that way, he admired them for it, even if he was dead certain there wasn’t a big man with a white beard up in the sky watching over them all.
Yet, he was starting to think they didn’t believe in exactly that either.
Torri Dowe had gone into the command tent at the start of the raid and hadn’t come out yet. Whatever she was doing in there, she wasn’t getting a break from it.
In her black cat form, Tavia had warmed up to Lonnie nicely, sometimes joining him at the top of the porch steps. The cat would butt her head against him, nuzzling and bothering him until he finally gave in and rubbed her back. And then she’d climb into his lap to get even more attention.
When Lonnie decided to remove the foul-smelling bandage from his leg (he’d had to cut the legs of his jeans off), Tavia sniffed the remaining scar and wrinkled her nose, bounding away.
Ingrid had come out once to sit with him and give him an update on Elsa’s health. The whorchal was recovering well, starting to feel more like herself again.
He’d believe that when she actually got out of bed.
Crash was in and out. He’d collected more water from the pond sometime in the evening when the ECC operatives turned on their electric lanterns, casting a sterile white glow out to the edge of the forest. Then he’d come to sit with Lonnie for a spell. “What’s goin’ on in there, you think?”
Lonnie shrugged and exhaled the smoke of his last cigarette, glanced up at the satellite dishes they’d placed up high in the trees. “Have no clue. They act like they’re monitoring some situation but not sure how they could through the Fade. And Torri, she’s been in there the entire time. No break from whatever it is.”
“Ah, well. I guess they know what they’re doing.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
That had been hours ago, and now it was well past midnight.
He thought about going inside the house and forgetting about the raid, but couldn’t. His attention kept refocusing on the tent and what might be happening inside. Was Bess and her team okay? Were they dead or stuck somewhere?
For that matter, who was looking after Torri?
Lonnie got up, Tavia protesting as he put her aside, and came down off the porch. He strode toward the tent, two ECC commandos slipping out of the darkness to intercept him. One was a short woman with close-cropped, dark hair and hard gray eyes. Her companion was a typical ECC type, rugged and handsome, American made, but without the bulk of a guy like Alex. Both of them menaced Lonnie with professional efficiency.
“Hold it right there, sir. You’re not authorized.”
Lonnie’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. “Sir? I don’t think I’ve ever been called a sir.”
“Sir…”
“I’ll stay out of everyone’s way. I just want to check on Torri and Bess. I want to know how it’s going.”
The operatives closed ranks, shoulders together, expressions firm. “Appreciate that, sir,” the
woman said. “But orders are to keep everyone not involved in the operation out.”
That shouldn’t have made him mad, shouldn’t have set him off, but it did. He’d been part of ECC operations before, had almost single-handedly saved the Lexington Citadel from being completely overrun. Not to mention they’d saved Bess’s father, and he and the gang had saved Torri’s precious Rowan Tree from being summarily uprooted.
“We’re part of the operation, believe me.” Lonnie pushed between the two, which garnered an instant reaction from them. Mr. American grabbed Lonnie by the shoulders, his jacket bunching up in the man’s hand while the woman took a step back, raising the barrel of her machine gun at Lonnie’s chest.
Lonnie smirked at the woman. “You think I’m afraid of that thing?”
She made to reply but then the tent flap flew open and the statuesque Kristanna Bell stepped out. “It’s okay, Todd and Sandra. Consider him cleared.”
The guards’ countenances changed almost immediately. Todd let go and stepped aside, standing at attention, all in one fluid motion. The guard named Sandra did the same, falling back with a, “Yes, ma’am.”
Still, when Lonnie strode by, he couldn’t help but catch Todd’s eye, and the Toddster wasn’t too happy about a fade ripper getting special attention.
Too fucking bad, he thought.
“Thanks,” Lonnie said and followed Kristanna inside the tent.
Lonnie’s eyes went wide as he stood in the center of a room filled with monitor light. Fold out tables were packed with open laptops and large monitors all wired in to a central patch panel. Several ECC operatives manned the work stations, each of them wearing a thin headphone mic, which they spoke into with hushed and professional tones. The monitors where busy with data. Several screens displayed rectangles filled with what looked like vital signs, tiny hearts beating next to names. Other screens seemed to be monitoring signal strength and other variables Lonnie had no clue about.
A couple of high definition speakers were wired up to the ceiling, feeding them voices. He recognized Bess’s clipped, professional tone immediately but couldn’t hear what she was saying.
