by Kenny Soward
Sensing his gaze on her, she glanced in his direction. Gave him a half smile because Bess never gave a full one. Her eyes slid back to the road, and she sucked the remaining ketchup and mustard off her fingers with a smack. “Not normally what I’d eat, but I figure I’ve got a good excuse to munch on an over-processed cheeseburger today.”
“Fast food heaven.”
“Right.”
“I have to admit, this van was a big score. Do you `Vengers keep church vans hidden all over the place?”
Bess didn’t respond.
Lonnie reached for the fresh pack of cigarettes he’d picked up before they’d scored the drugs, slapped it against his palm to pack the tobacco, and opened the wrapper. “Hey, we’re being open and trusting and everything. You suggested it. You know, for the sake of dealing with a common enemy.”
Bess’s lips formed into a pensive kiss, and she nodded. “We mark churches—no, I’m not going to tell you how they’re marked—to store weapons and other supplies. They're safe places for wayward operatives, supported by ECC sympathizers, although many church leaders ignore our existence.”
“Is that why you keep everything so damn secretive? I mean, if you humans would just work together, without all the secrecy, you could kick ass. Open up and be honest with each other. Do something about my kind.”
“Like you did with her,” Bess said, indicating Makare.
Lonnie shook his head, the flame from his dragon lighter stopping short of the tip of the cigarette.
“Sorry. I have no clue what happened between you two, but I’ll answer your question more directly. While we have our religions here on Earth, many of us humans couldn't care less. Religion is a running joke. You’ve heard of atheists, but it goes deeper than that. It goes beyond people being more interested in landing on Mars than they are in the Bible, or protecting their own children from the evils of Hell. Or, conversely, kids being brainwashed in Jesus Camps. It’s political now. Standing for religion is big business. Standing against it is big business, too. So, the ECC operates outside the law. We take funding where we can get it. Fight the good fight so others don't have to. There’s only one side, as far as we’re concerned, and that’s God’s side.”
Lonnie took a drag, cracked the window, and held the cigarette so that the smoke blew out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Lonnie exhaled through the crack. “No, I can respect what you’re saying. You have an agenda, and you make no qualms about it. My sister works similarly, only she’s even more hardcore than you guys. No mandate, happy to kill anyone who doesn’t agree. Hell, she took out her own family to get to the top. Didn’t get all of us though.”
Bess made a clicking sound with her tongue. Shook her head. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“Yeah, she’s a cold-hearted bitch. Right, sister?”
Lonnie glanced back. Makare was pensive and angry, lips pressed together, eyes full of menace. She appeared to want to say something smart but didn’t want to risk getting slapped.
Good.
She turned her gaze to Bess. “Shall I tell the tale?”
Bess peeked in her rearview mirror. Shrugged.
To her credit, his sister waited until Lonnie nodded to continue. "I can't wait to hear this, sister. Finally, an excuse for your bullshit behavior."
Makare frowned at Lonnie, then began. “My family, our family, have been one of the ruling families on Septu for several millennium. Septu is what you Earthen call Hell."
"Yep, I got that part."
"Most human species dwell within a circle of land called the Rim. There are seven such houses in total, operating with a tenuous peace between them. The greatest of the Bet-Ohmans was my grandmother, Azarah, who ruled three thousand years ago. She had a presence on Earth, too, in a place called the Middle East. Azarah was a demon to many, a goddess to others. One thing was for true, she helped start dynasties, end revolutions, and bent Earth’s citizens to the will of my family. Many believe she’s still here, working, as your ECC does, outside the law.”
“Probably owned slaves, too.”
Makare nodded. “Many slaves, yes. She was the best of us.”
Bess only shook her head.
“The world we live in is a hard, cold world, as you can probably imagine. Not only do we fight with each other, but also defend the Rim against unimaginable evils. Everything I’ve done, even as a little girl, has been to preserve my family’s place and keep the balance of power. My mother was tearing our family apart. Even my father had his doubts and considered removing my mother from Xester.”
“Liar. Mother could have made us better. Stronger. She had ideas no one ever tried before. Ways to strengthen ties with our allies without bloodshed. I don’t remember everything from that time, but I remember that.”
“Were you willing to take that chance, brother? No, of course, not. Because you never showed an interest in political affairs. You never showed an interest in war. Mother sheltered you, and you shied away from the truth.”
“I learned enough. I was nearing rune mastery.”
“Training is easy, brother. Ideals are easy. Reality is a much harder thing. I learned that from our long lost grandmother, Azarah, and I did what she would have done.”
“And what about this Azarah,” Bess said. “You think she’s still here on Earth, plotting?”
“It certainly was not me," Makare said, shrugging. "I orchestrated none of the attacks on your people. In fact, I regret coming here at all. I shouldn’t have listened to the returned scryer…” Makare trailed off with a shake of her head.
“Hard to believe, you randomly appearing.”
Makare’s eyes studied Bess in the mirror, then she shrugged. “My pride overruled my common sense. I’ve never cared for this world, and I don’t understand how any hellborn can stand it. It is…” Makare gazed upward as if she were taking in a landscape beyond the van’s cabin, “draining. Everything the color of fade.”
Elsa threw her arm around Makare’s shoulders. “It is a shithole, I’ll agree with that, dearie. Lucky we now have you to brighten our days.” And then Elsa tweaked Makare’s nose with her middle finger.
Makare closed her eyes, sighed, but did not retaliate.
“So, you’re only here for your brother? No plans to set up shop and enslave our people?”
“No. My quarrel was only with my brother. If you were to let me go this minute, I’d return to Hell and never come back.
“Not happening,” Lonnie said, agitated that his sister had presented her case fairly well. It was true Lonnie’s mother had sheltered him. Maybe his sister’s traitorous acts were partly his fault. Maybe if he’d shown more interest in the Xester’s affairs she might have seen him as an ally rather than an enemy.
Still, it was no excuse for what she’d done.
"Jedi, what's Krag doing?" Bess said, breaking the argument.
Jedi stuffed his empty cup into the McDoc’s bag, saying, “What do you think? The fucker is still pissed at you, Bess. Been looking for you ever since you escaped. Of course, I haven't seen him. Makare here took me off the job to find Lonnie. He's going to shit when he finds out you were right under his nose.”
“Good thing you won't tell him.” Bess said.
"Right, because he'll kill me."
"You're ass isn't his anymore. It's mine."
Jedi’s expression fell. “Look, just be cool and drop me off at the next rest stop and I’ll figure it out from there. I’ll go back to Florida.”
“Good one,” Elsa snorted.
Lonnie shook his head. “Why would we let you go?”
“Because you’re good people?”
Ingrid snickered.
“Okay, maybe because I rescued Bess, who, in turn, helped you guys.”
“I see where you’re going with this. You’re not a complete shit heal, but that hardly justifies why I shouldn’t let Elsa have you for dinner.”
Bess threw her wadded up cheeseburger wrap
per at Lonnie. “Jedi, can you tell us what we're walking into? Anything tactical we can use?”
“Not much,” he stammered. “They don't give me those kinds of details. And I’m telling the truth.”
Bess glanced across at Lonnie. “Hey. Can I borrow Elsa for a moment?”
“Be my guest.”
“Elsa, can you ask Jedi—”
"I would love to." Else’s pale face formed an expression of mock excitement. Her jaw dropped, lips and teeth drawing back over her sharp underteeth as she edged closer to Jedi, claws resting on his knee. "Jedi, I'm so fond of you, and I want to kiss you many more times. But you must be honest with me. Our love requires it."
Jedi withered under Elsa’s overemotional tone. Even he knew what her love and kisses meant.
“Come, dearie. What fun is waiting for us in Lexington? And every time you lie, I get to eat a part of you, starting with your little penis.”
Jedi shivered, then told them everything he knew.
Chapter 33
“Ah, here’s the exit.” Bess veered the van off the freeway and stopped at the end of the ramp. Turned left and drove for the next couple of miles in silence. It was one of those lonely little spots with just a single Quickstop that look like it’d seen better days and several other husks of buildings that might have once been fueling stations or mini marts.
It was dark out, 11:34 p.m. if he could trust the Ram’s dashboard clock.
Bess slowed as she approached a road on the left. She turned the boat across the highway, tires crunching on the asphalt, and eased in.
“Hang on to something,” she said, and Lonnie soon found out why.
The lane was pocked and rutted gravel, uneven at best. The suspension on the van was ridiculous, so worn and springy that it bounced and shook them to the point Lonnie’s teeth rattled inside his head.
“Discourages people from driving too close,” Bess said, matter-of-factly. “The Citadel is another hour east.”
The road split the crowded woods which stretched over them, branches and leaves rattling and squeaking against the roof as they squeezed through. The air was thick with bark and moss scent. A person could get lost in two seconds out here, and he was sure the ECC would find you before you ever found them.
Speaking of which, Bess looked worried. Bottom lip held between her teeth, her eyes nervously checked sides of the road as if she was expecting someone. She’d even taken out her ECC flip phone and held it in her right hand as she drove.
“Something wrong?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“We should have been challenged by rangers. And my phone has a proximity coder that lites up either green or red, letting me know if it's okay to proceed. There’s nothing.”
Jedi leaned forward. “Like I said. They brought a major force. You’re people are probably dead. You can't win, and we shouldn't be here—”
“Shut up,” Lonnie said, and took a swipe at Jedi’s nose.
Jedi yipped and threw himself backward into Elsa's waiting arms.
Lonnie wasn’t nervous about heading into a violent situation. If there was one thing the Eighth Street Gang excelled at, it was dealing death. Strange, he found himself worrying for Bess. Her father was close and in trouble, and Lonnie knew what it was like to lose a parent. He hoped her emotions didn't cloud her judgment. “Should we keep going?”
“Yeah.”
"Even without the ranger meet and greet? What if they mistake us for the enemy?"
"Don't worry about it."
Lonnie watched her closely but said nothing else.
Twenty minutes later the earthquake road turned into smooth blacktop. The shaking eased although Lonnie’s brain still rattled inside his skull. Bess pressed the pedal and the old Ram sputtered and caught, and the V-8 shot them up a curve in the hill. Bess slowed at the top as they wound around a knob of earth. In the distance, off to the left, a flickering orange glow lit the sky above the canopy of treetops.
Something was burning.
“Oh, Lord.” Bess said, her eyes scanning the ruddy firelight. She murmured, taking an accounting of the damage in her head. She let go of the steering wheel and punched it, and the van's horrible alignment whipped them to the left.
“Hey!” Lonnie reached across and grabbed the wheel, spinning it the other way to keep them from running off the road and into a gulch.
Bess slammed on the brakes, pumping several times to get brake fluid through the rotted lines, causing the worn pads to squeal. The Ram creaked back and forth before settling to a stop, leaving them sitting in the quiet of the idling engine.
It was an eerie thing to watch, Bess silently staring, hands in her lap as her anger stewed.
No one made a sound as her emotion built, until a gut wrenching cry burst from her lips, causing Lonnie to jump. Bess slammed her palms against the steering wheel, followed by her forehead.
Selix sat up, groggy. She looked at Lonnie, then Bess. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Bess said, raising her cold walls as fast as she’d lowered them. She wiped her face with her sleeves and eased the van forward and over the hill.
Lonnie gave Selix a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but he kept his eyes trained on Bess. That stony gaze of hers. Her jaw working back and forth, chewing stone.
Lonnie was glad he wasn’t her enemy.
Another twenty or thirty minutes on the road in the general direction of the burning facilities, Bess stopped the van and pulled as far right as possible.
“We get out here. Assault the place on foot.”
Lonnie nodded. “Hey, so you know. We’re not an organized military outfit. We just kill shit.”
“Good. I'll point. You kill.”
“Fair enough.” He threw his door open. “Let’s go everyone!”
Bess got out, circled to the van's rear, and opened the back doors. Jedi reached to open the sliding side door but Elsa grabbed his hand where it rested on the handle. She gave him a toothy smile. “Let me help you with that.”
Lonnie watched everyone loosen their stiff limbs in the middle of the road while he tried to assess who might stay behind.
He stepped to the back of the van next to Bess and gazed at the small stockpile of weapons she’d gotten from the church. Two older M16 machine guns, various semi-automatic pistols, and three well-kept .357 revolvers. He took one of those and a box of .45 ACP ammo for his XDS and gave everything a thorough check. Satisfied and reloaded, he tucked the XDS in its normal spot and the revolver in his belt line on the left.
“This is probably our best chance at coming in undetected.”
Lonnie nodded. “You need all of us, right?”
Bess nodded.
“What do we do with the prisoners?”
“Just bring them. We can stash them in a storage building while we do our thing.”
Lonnie wasn't thrilled with the idea. While he trusted Bess, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put Makare and Jedi anywhere near the Eminence Command Citadel. What if they won the fight but someone in the ECC overruled Bess and arrested them? Or worse, got hostile? Either way, their prisoners would be a distraction, and they didn’t need more distractions right now.
“Can you watch them for a minute?”
“Yeah, but make it quick.” Bess moved to the side of the van where Jedi and Makare huddled. She relieved Elsa, and Elsa followed him.
Lonnie took the gang fifteen yards down the road.
“Okay. Dilemma. We need to figure out what to do with the assholes. Bess is offering to hold them once we get close enough to the citadel, but that's not a good idea.”
“Yes,” Ingrid agreed. “Anything could happen. They could escape.”
“They’ll be distractions.” Selix said, agreeing with Lonnie's earlier sentiments.
Ingrid made the conclusion for them. “Someone has to stay behind.”
“Crash, you’re hurt,” Lonnie pointed out.
“I'm fine. Fuckin’ great.” To prove i
t, he held up his arm and took off the bloody wrapping, showing that aside from some heinous-looking pocks and charred patches, the skin had mostly grown back, glowing pink in places. He wiggled his fingers.
“Okay. So, who wants to volunteer then?”
No one spoke right away, then Elsa raised her hand. “I will stay and watch the piglets. Let me.”
“No fucking way. What I meant to say was, who wants to volunteer to stay who won’t eat the piglets?”
The gang was silent for another minute as Lonnie studied them in turn. There was only one person he trusted with the job. “Ingrid.”
The whorchal stomped her foot. “I knew it would be me. I fucking knew it.”
“We need your steady head for this. Make sure they stay in the van and don’t let them try any shit. And believe me, my sister will fucking try something. I’m one-hundred percent sure of it. That’s why it has to be you.”
Ingrid sulked a moment more, but she nodded her assent.
That decided, they armed themselves. Crash and Elsa took the M-16s and a handgun each and Selix adopted a couple handguns herself even though she wasn’t a good shot. Guns weren’t her thing, generally speaking.
Lonnie sat in the passenger side seat while the other rippers gathered around. He cooked some junk, tied them off, and fixed. Selix did him, but the bump faded quick, leaving him a little raw in the head.
“Come on,” Bess called impatiently from the edge of the woods where she waited with her rifle pointed at the captives.
Lonnie slapped Elsa and Crash to keep them from nodding off, and then wrapped up the fix kit, stuffing it in his jacket. There was enough junk left for after the fight if they made it.
As Lonnie came around the front of the van, he passed Makare, saying, "I hope you try something. I really do. She’s expecting it, you know.”
“No, brother. I realize escape is beyond me. You won. I am at your mercy.”
Lonnie sneered, hiding his discomfort at leaving his sister with Ingrid.
“Follow me,” Bess called, hefting her gun to her chest as she limbered up. “Fifteen yards between us. Don’t tailgate. I hate tailgaters.”
Bess jogged into the woods, navigating the tangles of bushes, creepers, and vines well enough to set a solid pace. Lonnie watched her shape in the dark, eyes pinned to her waist as her shapely, muscled legs churned over the difficult terrain. The way she balanced and pivoted and kept her shoulders moving back and forth in a proper runner’s form. The rest of them did their best to keep up. But no amount of determination and power could make up for their lack of grace, and they spent a lot of time turning ankles and avoiding things in the pitch darkness.
