Rise Of The Soulless

by Erik Lynd

  “That sounds like a good, yet horrifying story. Be careful in there Hamlin, I want you to live to tell it to me.”

  “That’s the plan,” Hamlin said, more to himself than Juan as he stepped onto the curb. A little voice in his head kept telling him this was a bad idea and he kept telling it back they had no choice. But he knew what he was going up against, and with Christopher MIA it made him doubly nervous.

  Christopher is fine, he told himself. It was the only way he could put one foot in front of the other. As he approached the building he changed his assessment; it wasn’t the tallest, but it was a large building. According to Juan it was mostly residences, but several floors were reserved for business offices, all presumably for this Goliath company.

  That made him nervous too. According to the kid this Golyat was a giant of a man. Was he the real Goliath? He couldn’t be that old, could he? Of course, he had seen stranger things since hooking up with the kid. This would be par for the course. He was just hoping they were supposed to be David in this story.

  “Heads up, the security in the lobby and the lower part of the building are all standard rent-a-cops—a prestigious security company, only the best of the best here, but still civilian. Above the first couple of floors I see a lot of movement that looks like security making rounds, but they aren’t accounted for by the same company. My guess is they are private contractors or work directly for Golyat and may not be ethically minded.”

  “Got it,” Hamlin said quietly. “But I don’t even know if I’ll get out of the lobby.”

  “Sure, you will. I got you covered.”

  Hamlin wasn’t sure he liked the way that sounded.

  The lobby, it turned out, was large and, except for a person at the front desk, completely empty. It was neat to the point of obsession, a glass and metal modern look. It looked like a germaphobe’s paradise. Sterile. Even the artwork, while elegant, lacked color and passion.

  The man at the front desk was older, perhaps early sixties, and wearing a stylish suit straight out of a fashion magazine. His hair was perfectly trimmed and mustache manicured. Everything was neat, tidy, and aligned with modern styles. It fit in nicely with the little they knew of this Golyat.

  When Hamlin stepped into the lobby he nodded briefly to the man, who barely raised an eyebrow, and looked around. There were a set of couches and a coffee table; a couple of chairs with another table between them were up against a wall. None of the furniture looked like it had ever been used.

  To the left and behind the lobby desk were two elevators. There would be a stairwell somewhere and that might be a better option for getting to a higher floor. The residential floors would be difficult to get to and it would be hard to explain his purpose if he was caught looking around a home. So that was out of the question. His best bet was a floor set up for the Goliath corp.

  He suspected they were little more than a front, just some conference rooms owned by the corporation for the use of the tenants that couldn’t be bothered to come to the headquarters. But if he was captured there he could at least use the cop coming to ask some questions routine.

  Now the only question was how did he get to one of those floors?

  “Can I help you?” the man at the front desk said.

  Hamlin was facing one of the pieces of art, trying not to be obvious while sticking out like a sore thumb.

  “Better do something quick,” Hamlin whispered, hoping Juan heard him, “Because I’m getting the stink-eye pretty hardcore.”

  “What is stink-eye? Did you fart?” Juan answered through the earpiece. “Don’t worry though, I got you covered. Go talk to the man.”

  “Talk to the man? About what?”

  “Sir. Can I help you?” This time the man added a little more emphasis. Hamlin was the hoi polloi.

  “No. I’m just looking,” Hamlin said. He was not good at improv. He had two thoughts; one, that he hated Juan and two, this would be so much easier if he could just pull out his badge.

  The man frowned and was about to say something else when his computer beeped. He glanced down, and his frown deepened.

  “Pardon me sir, I will be right back,” the desk man said as he walked toward the door behind the desk, his eyes never leaving Hamlin.

  “No problem, I think I have the wrong address anyway.”

  “I set off a fire alarm in the back room,” Juan’s voice said over the earpiece. “They have an interesting fire alarm system. The lower floor ones are two stages. The first stage is for a slight temperature change, it just alerts the front desk. The second stage is for a major temp change like open flame or activated by the front desk. I gave it an error code for the first stage. It will just look like a glitch.”

  As soon as the man was through the door, Hamlin whispered to Juan, “He’s gone, now what?”

  “Elevator. Hurry before he comes back. The cameras are all taken care of.”

  Hamlin hurried over to the elevator bank and hit the call button. The doors immediately opened. And Hamlin prayed once again this kid never returned to a life of crime.

  Once inside the steel and wood elevator the doors shut and the third-floor button lit up. Muzak played quietly over the speaker.

  “Any requests?” Juan asked. “For the music I mean.”

  Hamlin ignored him. “Third floor is part of the business front?”

  “Yeah, private conference rooms and offices. There are only a couple of people on this floor, and I don’t think they’re security.”

  The door opened and Hamlin stepped into a room that looked like a small lobby. There was no reception and only a couple of chairs and coffee tables. Again, to Hamlin it felt like this room had never been used. This floor might be safe from security, but he suspected that’s because there’s nothing on it to protect. He said as much to Juan.

  “Well you can check for a computer then, maybe they’ll have one on that floor,” Juan said. “Okay, take the door on the right. But wait.”

  Hamlin paused with his hand inches from the doorknob.

  “I can hear you cursing under your breath Hamlin.”

  “Good,” Hamlin growled.

  “There was someone in the hallway beyond, but they’re gone now.”

  Hamlin slipped into the hallway beyond. It was empty and Hamlin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. The hall had three doors leaving it besides the one he had just come through.

  “Is this room clear?”

  “Yeah, nobody home on this one or any of the others on this floor.”

  Hamlin looked in. It was a standard office set up. A desk, chair, some cabinets. It was nice, high-end office setting, but it also felt unused. The magazines were several months old.

  “There’s a computer, but the office looks completely unused. It’s just part of the front. I’m guessing that computer is useless.”

  “Probably. But put the USB device in and boot it up anyway. Let’s just check.”

  Hamlin inserted the tiny USB drive and booted up the laptop. He had just reached the login screen when the door opened behind him.

  The man standing in the doorway looked just as surprised as Hamlin. He was not the standard rent-a-cop. He looked ex-military and ate cereal mixed with steroids for breakfast. He was tall and would fit better on a defensive line than in a suit. His head was shaved down to stubble. Hamlin was a little disappointed he wasn’t wearing shades. Seemed like that would have completed the image.

  “Shit. Company,” Hamlin said.

  They both went for their guns, but Hamlin’s broken body slowed him down. His bruised ribs twitched with pain as he tried for his shoulder holster. He paused and winced involuntarily. The other man’s gun was out before his hand was even on the butt of his pistol.

  “Freeze!” The man commanded. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Cleaning service?” Hamlin offered.

  “Shit, fuck, he must not have a cell phone. Who the hell has no cell phone?” said Juan in his ear.
>
  “On the ground now!” shouted the man.

  “Look, I’m a cop.” Hamlin started raising his hands.

  “I don’t care who the fuck you are, you got three seconds to tell me what you are doing here before I kill you.”

  “Didn’t you just ask me who the fuck I was?” Hamlin was not sure why even in the face of death his tongue betrayed him. He was pretty sure it was Chris and Juan rubbing off on him, however. There was no way he was taking this guy down even if he didn’t have a gun. He was twice Hamlin’s size and Hamlin was still aching from the last time he was used as a punching bag.

  “Cops have no power in this building. They die like all the rest. One, two…” Hammer pulled back for dramatic effect. “Three.”

  A roar echoed throughout the room. And Hamlin knew that roar. He would have kissed the kid if he had been there. From the only shadows in the room, the darkness under the desk, burst the giant panther. Hellcat sprang from the shadows in one giant leap. The man never had a chance to move his pistol.

  His eyes opened wide in shock and terror. Hellcat’s huge muzzle, lined with razor sharp teeth, a jaw that could literally tear your soul from your body, opened wide beneath blazing red eyes. The man screamed briefly, but it was cut off as the massive jaw clamped down on his throat. With a wet tearing sound, Hellcat ripped out his throat.

  “That’s grisly as fuck! Jesus,” Hamlin said. He loved that kitty more than ever now, but feeding time was still a horror show.

  “Get the fuck out of there Hamlin, I don’t know who heard that noise. Move your ass.”

  That got Hamlin moving. He started toward the door he had come in.

  “Don’t forget the USB thing.”

  Fuck! He spun around and his sore knee raged in protest. He limped back to the desk. They had quickly gone from Mission Impossible to the Three Stooges in a hurry. He reached for the USB but his rib twitched again and he cried out. Fuck it. He snagged the whole laptop. I’ll remove it later when I’m not running for my life.

  He half-limped, half-ran back to the door, but paused just before opening. He looked back at Hellcat. She stood above her kill, watching him with blood dripping from her crimson muzzle.

  “Good girl, I’m gonna buy you the biggest bag of catnip I can find. Now back into the shadows where you can be safe.”

  She almost seemed to nod before diving back under the desk with a meaty growl.

  “Is the coast clear?” asked Hamlin.

  “Yes. At least I think. There is one camera in the hall that shows clear. No alarms have been sounded that I can see.”

  “You really need to work on your confidence building kid,” Hamlin said and opened the door.

  The coast was clear. He ran, favoring his knee, to the elevator. It was waiting for him courtesy of Juan, the door opened and he was inside as quick as he could move.

  “Bringing you down now,” Juan said.

  “No,” said Hamlin, “Fuck it. Take me to the penthouse.”

  This was their only chance. Once they found that body, they would know their security had been breached the building would become Fort Knox. But if he could get this little USB thingy into the right device it would be like winning the lottery. This was their best chance to break open this alliance.

  Besides, he was feeling a little more badass with an 800-pound demonic cat watching his back.

  18

  “No problem, I was gonna take you there anyway,” Juan said. “Because I know you’re batshit loco.”

  The elevator started rising.

  “You know this is it, our only chance?” asked Hamlin.

  “Yeah, and I was just starting to like you, even if you are a cop. Okay, if we’re gonna do this here’s the intel. There are at least four people up there and limited cameras; I guess the big guy likes his privacy. I can only find them in the entry, dining room, kitchen and a couple of hallways. Basically, the common areas. I’ve overridden the elevator alert and disabled every alarm or sensor I could find between you and the penthouse. Holy fuck…”

  “What?”

  “I just saw the big guy in a camera. He’s home, so he’s got to be one of the cell phones. Are you still sure you want to do this?”

  Hamlin sucked in a long breath. “Yeah, there’s got to be a computer somewhere that I can get to. Afterward… well, at least you’ll be able to access the system. Just keep tabs on everyone and guide me. Is there anybody in the entry?”

  “No, the coast is clear. I’m not sure where Golyat went, but it looks like a room in the back of the apartment. No cameras, so I’m not sure what room it is. Wait, it’s a smaller room compared to the others, I think he’s taking a shit.”

  “You know there is TMI in intel as well.”

  The elevator was silent when it opened into the penthouse entry room. No ding announcing his arrival. Video cameras on loops, the kid was good. Although there was a little voice in the back of his brain that said this was a little too easy, he shrugged it off. There was nothing they could do about it now.

  The penthouse was stunning. Beautiful artwork lined the walls, probably famous pieces that Hamlin would never be able to recognize. A thick rug covered the center of the floor and helped muffle his footsteps. The ceiling was over twelve feet high here. The entry hall stretched off in either direction, but in front of him right across from the elevators were a set of large double doors thrown open to the living room beyond. Floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the city.

  And he thought the kid’s swanky home was impressive. It had nothing on this place. Golyat knew how to live in style.

  “Quick! Down the hallway to your right. Someone’s coming the other way.”

  Hamlin quickly headed off down the right hallway, trying not to look over his shoulder.

  “Take the first hallway on your left,” said Juan.

  He passed several doors he was tempted to open, but he had to trust Juan. He turned down the hall Juan had said.

  “Now first door on your left, hurry.”

  Hamlin opened the door and ducked in, quietly shutting the door behind him. He was in a powder room. It was about the size of his apartment. That might be a slight exaggeration, but everything about the penthouse seemed oversized. The powder room was bigger than most master baths and the hallways seemed somehow artificially wide. It must have all been custom for Golyat. He still hadn’t seen him in person, but he was beginning to get an idea of how massive he really was.

  He shifted the laptop to his left hand so he could press his head up against the door and listen. From the other side he could hear movement, one, no two men, talking quietly. He couldn’t make out all the words, the door and walls were too thick—also very unlike his own apartment—but it seemed to be a casual conversation. Just two soldiers passing each other on patrol.

  What if one of them needed to use the bathroom? Fuck. He spotted a closet and slipped inside. Correction, the powder room closet was bigger than his apartment.

  He didn’t quite have the door shut when the bathroom door opened. Hamlin paused with the closet door open a crack as the security guard came in. He was dressed in a suit like the one on the man downstairs and he was just as big, but that’s where the similarities ended. His head was shaved and covered with sickly-looking molted skin. He looked like a ten-day-old corpse.

  I swear to God if these are more zombies I’m going to scream.

  But the man seemed too in control to be the variety of the walking dead that Hamlin had encountered. Everywhere it was exposed, his skin was covered in tattoos. Hamlin could only see the black ink on his head and hands, but he had no doubt it covered the man’s body beneath that suit. Not street tattoos; Hamlin was familiar with street and prison tats. These were different and seemed to shimmer and move in the light, like living occult symbols shifting on his body. If this was a natural tattoo, the artist was a genius.

  The man came in and used the toilet, another good sign he wasn’t the living dead, and then adjusted his suit in the mirror. From his
hiding place, Hamlin could see his reflection. His eyes flashed a blue-silver briefly before he turned and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

  Hamlin let out a long breath before leaving the closet.

  “See, no problem. I got your back,” Juan said.

  “Just tell me when they are clear. I’m so tense I feel like I’m gonna jump out of my fucking skin.”

  “It’s clear. Leave the bathroom and turn left.”

  Hamlin stepped out cautiously, Juan had been wrong before. The coast was clear. He walked down the hall but stopped in front of a door. “Is this room clear?”

  “Yes, but I have no idea what’s in it.”

  Hamlin opened it. It was a guest room. No computer. “It’s a bust, guest room.”

  “There’s a set of stairs just around the corner from you, not the main staircase, more like a service one. It’ll get you to the second floor of the penthouse.”

  “This fucking thing is two stories?”

  “Three. When you got money you go big or go home. Just thinking the second floor might be more interesting. The third floor is a blank for me, no floor plan registered that I could find. But I do see stairs going up.”

  Hamlin left the guest room and found the small stairs heading up. He slipped up them as quietly as he could. Once up there he checked three more rooms. One was storage, one another guest room, and the third an attached bathroom.

  Twice Juan had Hamlin duck behind a door to avoid detection. Hamlin’s nerves were as raw as his steaks.

  “At this rate, they’re going to find me before I find a TV remote, let alone a computer.”

  “Yeah, the longer you’re there, the harder it will be to avoid detection. Eventually, they’re going to figure out what I’ve done to the cameras and alarms. Maybe we should get you out of there, call it a bust?”

  “Just one more room,” Hamlin said. This one looked promising, large double doors dominated the wall. Whatever was behind it was more important than a guest room.

  “Shit, Hamlin the big guy is heading up the main stairs. You got to hide.”