Tomorrow's Gone Season 1

by Sean Platt

  “Use it, probably against us.”

  “So you came in here to hang out with me? Cheers to the company, but jeers for you forgetting to bring the whiskey.”

  “One of our own is lost in The Ruins. We need you to escort one of our brothers in to retrieve our lost—”

  “So, this has nothing to do with the girl?”

  “Our missing brother can help us find her.”

  “Can or will?” Wolf narrowed his eyes at the monk.

  “Help us and we will help you.”

  “That how you think karma works?”

  “As he has planted, so does he harvest,” said Brother Serenity.

  “I thought you airbenders were immune to The Ruins. I see you fuckers in there all the time gathering them pink leaves like you’re gonna make a collage for your kindergarten teacher.”

  “We cannot enter the most changed areas.”

  “Okay,” Wolf said, playing like he was still on the fence, and not looking for the girl himself. “You want help chasing rabbits, what’s in it for me?”

  “Is a good deed not its own reward?”

  “I tried to buy a Big Mac with a good deed once, but no dice.” Brother Serenity stared at him, so Wolf told the truth. “Just kidding. I’d rather eat a bowl of chlamydia than anything on the ‘menu’ at McDonalds. Best thing about the world going arrivederci is that burger-shilling clown going with it. Same for Applebees. Fuck ‘em both.”

  Brother Serenity stared back in silence, patiently awaiting a genuine answer.

  “A good deed don’t pay for none of what I need to live. And Riverside is playing it pissy since one of their dumbfuck Rangers decided to let go of me in The Ruins.”

  “We have places you can stay. And we can compensate you. But I believe there is something more we can do for you.”

  “Besides helping me with crow pose and tossing me off?”

  “I believe we can help you remember.”

  Wolf tried not to let his body language betray his unnerving, but he still sat straighter as his throat went suddenly dry. “What do you mean?”

  “I know that you cannot remember your life before this.”

  Wolf stood, stretched his legs, then got in Brother Serenity’s face, knowing he was provoking the man but not giving a damn.

  The monk didn’t flinch or show any sign of defensiveness. He wasn’t afraid of Wolf, despite that being a rather deadly oversight.

  “And what the fuck do you know about what I remember?”

  “If you remembered anything, then you would remember me. Help us, and I can lead you back to the memories you’ve lost.”

  “Lost?”

  He nodded. “You have few friends in this world. The war is coming, and we will need to look out for one another.”

  Something inside him seemed to sigh. “Okay, what do you need?”

  “Follow me.”

  Brother Serenity led him out of the cell and down the hall where Stewart looked Wolf up and down, clearly not wanting to release him, yet having no means to detain him.

  “Wolf is now under our care. He will be leaving with me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Stewart offered a nod that surely tightened his balls.

  At the stables just inside the front gate, Brother Serenity introduced Wolf to a pudgy, bald man with thick glasses and narrow black eyes.

  “This is Brother Truth.”

  Pudgy bowed and Wolf nodded in return. “What’s shaking?”

  “Shaking?” Brother Truth looked at the elder monk for understanding.

  But Serenity said, “Wolf will escort you into The Ruins. Are you prepared to find Brother Path?”

  “Yes, father.”

  Wolf wasn’t sure if Brother Serenity was his father father or if that’s just what they called the elder monks. Truth looked early twenties at the most, and had only a single sleeve of visible tattoos.

  He looked nervous, avoiding Wolf’s eyes, too deferential. “I’m going to get the horses. You don’t have a horse, do you, Brother Wolf?”

  Brother Wolf? He stifled a laugh. “I usually hoof it or catch a carriage.”

  “Then I have one for you. You can ride, yes?”

  “Like Billy the Kid.”

  Brother Truth nodded, looking like he was barely sure of his own name, then turned and started off toward the stables.

  Wolf took a step toward Serenity. “I’m not casting aspersions, but how important is Pee-Wee to my mission impossible? There’s bad shit in there. Other monsters. Nightmares writhing like worms in a bucket of dirt. That kid’s gonna find himself inside out with a pecker for his tongue.”

  “I am aware of what lives within The Ruins.”

  “And you’re aware that Pee-Wee—”

  “Brother Truth is a capable fighter. One of our best.”

  “One of your best? Way to shit on your entire religion.” Wolf turned and glanced at Tubby McMonky, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with the attractive young redheaded stable hand.

  “Don’t underestimate Brother Truth because of his youth. He—”

  “Eats mayonnaise for breakfast?”

  “—is disciplined on the battlefield.”

  Brother Truth followed the stable hand to the stall.

  Wolf turned back to the elder monk. “What is it with your names? Brothers Serenity, Truth, Stillness, Millennium — why do you all sound like overpriced candles?”

  Still patient, Serenity said, “We take the name of our greatest struggle to master the demons of ourselves.”

  “And you had trouble with … serenity?”

  “I was an angry young man. Perhaps you know a thing or two of that.”

  “I’ve been told that a dash of righteous anger brings out the best of my personality.” Wolf grinned.

  Brother Serenity surprised him by smiling back. “We find that assuming the name of our greatest struggle makes it more likely that we can master that thing in ourselves.”

  “So Brother Truth is a liar?” Wolf shook his finger at the monk. “He did not have sexual relations with that woman!”

  “You will need to ask Brother Truth the story of his name. Some monks choose to hold their struggles closely.”

  “You guys fuck with celibacy?”

  “We take a vow, yes.”

  “So, my name would be Brother Fuck It.”

  This time, no smile.

  “Man, you don’t laugh at anything. Maybe you should take the name Giggles or Good Time. Work on your sense of humor.”

  Truth came out on his horse, holding the reins to a big black steed, saddled and ready for Wolf. “You sure you can ride?”

  “I’m a horse whisperer.”

  Truth offered him the reins. “His name is Wilbur.”

  “Wilbur?” Wolf surveyed his horse. Walked around and patted the saddle, then pulled himself onto its back. It began to whinny and buck.

  Wolf tried to calm him, grabbing the reins, but Wilbur wasn’t having it.

  He reared up and sent Wolf to the ground.

  Brother Truth looked down at him.

  “Don’t you fucking dare ask me,” Wolf said as the monk opened his prayerhole, getting up and dusting himself off.

  Serenity was calming the horse, whispering something indecipherable to Wilbur. Maybe he was a whisperer.

  It seemed to work. Wilbur calmed down and accepted Wolf as his rider.

  Truth brightened as he fought a smile. “We’ll stop by the armory and get you outfitted with some armor and weapons.”

  Wolf followed, emasculated by a horse named Wilbur, annoyed before the journey had started. This had better be worth it. They had better find the girl before she got herself kidnapped or killed.

  He’d wanted answers for as long as he could literally remember. But he never knew where to look. Brother Serenity made a compelling promise, so he would throw in his lot with the monks for now.

  But he still didn’t trust them at all.

  Seventeen

  Slum Lord

  Slum Lo
rd saw the chaos on his streets and the men surrounding the interloper, the girl, and Willie. The man had a knife to Willie’s throat, forcing him to carry the young girl.

  Is this man trying to steal a child? Is she one of Willie’s prostitutes?

  She looked too young, and Slum Lord felt a sickness in his gut. There were rules to keep kids out of the brothels. He had heard the rumors, that Hobarth’s men were offering younger than sixteen, but his men had never confirmed it. The girls were of age, despite their looks, in every case so far.

  But this one was on the wrong side of the calendar for sure. Seeing her passed out on some drug only made her appear all the more vulnerable.

  So who the hell is this man with a knife to Willie’s throat?

  He approached with Sasha, Axl, Gordon, and Solomon. At first nobody noticed, with all eyes on the interloper.

  Slum Lord raised his ram horn and blew. The long, loud bellow washed over the crowd and caused everyone in it to stop and turn.

  He looked at the interloper and then Willie, holding the girl. At Hobarth and his men, who, along with the crowd, appeared ready to rip the interloper apart.

  “What is going on here?” Sebastian handed his horn to Axl.

  Hobarth turned, face twisted in anger at being stopped from whatever he was about to do. “This isn’t your problem, Slum Lord. I’m taking care of a business matter. This man is trying to take one of our girls.”

  “She’s not your girl,” the interloper shouted. “You bought her from bandits after they murdered her father!”

  Slum Lord looked at Hobarth. “Is that true?”

  “He’s full of shit! He’s a fuckin’ Ranger, coming here trying to interfere in Slum business! Says we’re surrounded by Rangers just like him, and they all want us dead — they expect they can just come in and claim our resources!”

  The crowd roared its disapproval, eager to see Ranger blood.

  “That true?” Slum Lord approached the interloper. “You a Ranger?”

  The man did not shy away, and showed no fear in his eyes. “Yes,” he nodded. “But I’m not here on Ranger business. I’m here to save her.”

  Slum Lord turned to Willie and looked more closely at the girl. No way she was old enough to be working in one of Hobarth’s whorehouses. “How old is she?”

  Three men answered at once. Sixteen from Willie, Eighteen from Hobarth, and a growling Fifteen from the Ranger.

  Slum Lord glared at Willie and Hobarth. “Fifteen?”

  “He’s lying!”

  “Please, remove the knife from Willie’s throat.”

  The Ranger nodded at Slum Lord and slowly pulled his blade away.

  Willie let out a long-held gasp.

  “What happened?” Slum Lord asked him.

  “This man came into my place, attacked my men, and put a knife to my throat, forcing me to help him bring her to the gates.”

  “If what you say is true, that she was kidnapped and brought here, why didn’t you just come to me?” Slum Lord asked the Ranger.

  “No offense, but people go missing in here all the time. I know how things work in The Slums.”

  “An implication and an outright insult, but I’m not supposed to take offense?” Slum Lord got in his face. The crowd’s anger swelled around him, expecting their leader to show this stranger that his laws held no dominion here.

  “Are there Rangers stationed outside?” Slum Lord asked.

  “No. I came on my own.”

  “Who is this girl to you?”

  “Her father was a merchant who came to Hope Springs every week. We shut our gates due to bandit attacks, so last night I had to turn them away. Her father was found dead this morning. The bandits took Charlotte and sold her to Hobarth.”

  Slum Lord turned to Hobarth. “Is this true?”

  “I don’t know anything about any of that. Willie?”

  Willie shook his head. “She came to us, looking for Pillar. Said she’d work for it, do whatever we wanted. I don’t know dick about any bandits.”

  Slum Lord stepped toward Willie, looking down at the man as he appeared to visibly shrink. Then he turned to the girl, like a doll in his arms, and reached out to touch her face, maybe wake her.

  She stirred as he touched her, eyes blinking open. She looked up at him in panic, then screamed, squirming free from Willie and falling into Slum Lord’s arms.

  He kept her from falling on her face. But still she shrank away from him, looking around, desperate and afraid.

  She screamed when her eyes found Willie. “No!”

  She saw the Ranger, his arms outstretched.

  “It’s okay. I’m here to bring you home.”

  She ran over and collapsed in his arms, crying, “He … he and his men …”

  “She’s a liar!” Willie shouted, before she could end her accusation.

  Slum Lord grabbed Willie by his scrawny throat. “What did you do to her?”

  “N-nothing.”

  “Don’t you lie to me.” He squeezed tighter and growled, “I asked you a question. What did you do to her?”

  “She wanted it,” Willie bawled.

  He shook his head. “Who else?”

  Willie’s eyes bulged, “W-what?”

  “Who else hurt her? I want names.”

  Willie turned toward Hobarth and pointed at two men — his security, Connor, in a tacky yellow suit, and Monte, shirtless and displaying his brawn. He had a similar build to Slum Lord, but with only a splinter of the smarts.

  “We didn’t hurt her.” Monte smiled. “We showed her a good time.”

  “A good time, eh? What kind of good time?”

  Monte gave Slum Lord a twisted grin and made him think of the sister he couldn’t protect from such men. He flicked open the blade concealed in his palm, buried it in Monte’s throat a second before the man could have ever expected it, then yanked it back out of his gushing wound.

  Monte’s eyes went wide and helpless, realizing he was going to die.

  “What the fuck?” Hobarth yelled.

  Connor tried to flee.

  Sasha and Axl headed him off. Sasha kneed him in the groin.

  Slum Lord rushed him as he doubled over. Yanked his head back by a handful of hair, then slit his throat with a giddy pull of an imaginary ripcord.

  His rage was blinding to everything but these men. He hoped that nobody from the crowd decided to attack. But a part of him also wished that someone would, because there was always more blood to spill.

  Willie was next to try running.

  Gordon grabbed him, lifting Willie without any effort and bringing the skinny man to his bushy red-bearded face. “Where ya’ goin, Willie Boy?”

  “Please, I didn’t—”

  Hobarth was dead silent. Maybe stunned, maybe knowing better. The crowd might be looking to tear the Ranger apart, but Slum Lord was the arbiter of justice. He refused to allow Hobarth’s men to claim the situation.

  “Hold him,” Slum Lord ordered.

  Solomon and Gordon clung to Willie despite his thrashing.

  Slum Lord looked around at the crowd — now more than two hundred strong. The assembly had started thick with Hobarth’s bloodthirsty mob, but the streets were packed with citizens — those who respected him as their fearless leader.

  He spoke from his chest. “I’ve said before that this city is only as good as its people. The strongest among us must account for the weakest, otherwise we have chaos. And in chaos, only the most vicious survive. I refuse to let chaos claim our city! Do we want chaos or order? Do we want chaos, or a city where our women, children, and elderly are all safe?”

  “Order!” The crowd shouted in unison, its momentum shifting toward Slum Lord with an almost physical force.

  “Trafficking a child for prostitution is a serious accusation. Will anyone speak on behalf of this man?”

  Nobody spoke.

  Willie, squirming, said, “Come on. You all know me. Half of you hypocrites use my services! You know I’m only try
ing to help these people find work!”

  “Will anybody speak on behalf of this man?” Slum Lord repeated.

  Hobarth looked around, seeking support from the mob who’d previously been on his side. He zipped his mouth when nobody did, then turned and walked away.

  Slum Lord glared at Willie. “Looks like no one is willing to vouch for you.”

  Willie sobbed, desperately pleading, “I didn’t know she was a child!”

  Slum Lord grabbed him by the jowls, pinching tightly. “Look at her and tell me how you were confused.”

  Willie stared at the ground.

  “I said look at her.” Slum Lord twisted the man’s head toward the girl nestled in the Ranger’s arms. She was staring at Willie, shaking. “Tell me that lie again.”

  “I didn’t know!”

  Slum Lord reached into Willie’s mouth and grabbed his tongue.

  He twisted and turned, but Gordon and Solomon held him tight.

  He yanked at Willie’s tongue as he gasped and choked, vomit spewing as Slum Lord raised the blade to his tongue.

  Willie’s eyes bulged as he cried, “No, no, no!”

  Slum Lord cut his tongue off and threw it to the ground. “Lie to me, and you lose your tongue. Rape a child …” He looked down.

  Willie’s eyes managed to widen further as he gagged on his blood and begged for mercy that would never be coming.

  Slum Lord turned to the girl. “You might want to turn away for this part, dear.”

  Eighteen

  Johan Pascal

  Charlotte trembled against Pascal as Willie’s screams filled the air.

  Slum Lord mangled the man, then gutted him and ordered his boys to hang Willie in Town Square.

  Then he turned to the same crowd that had been on the cusp of tearing Pascal to shreds just minutes before and bellowed, “Today, we take a stand against chaos! Today we take a stand against those who would prey on our children. Let this serve as a warning that no one is above The Law of the Slums!”

  The crowd erupted in applause.

  Pascal wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the display. Was Slum Lord truly offended that a child had been prostituted in his city, or was he making a show for the Ranger and eventually Richmond to prove he wasn’t the lawless warlord most people thought him to be?