Flotsam Prison Blues (The Technomancer Novels Book 2)

by M. K. Gibson

  And Twitch. Fuck.

  Without her help, none of this would have happened. While I may have cracked the golem’s network, she made it far easier. It was her expertise that allowed us to implant commands for them to follow. It was her ingenuity that got the signals out to Khurzon and Kuma’s cyberai. She even managed a bounce transmission to RM with instructions to get the yard in False Liberty ready for transport.

  If even one of those things had failed, these kids would be swinging on a hook. Or worse. God only knows if Gerhardt was telling the truth. Sadistic fucker.

  I only hoped the prick enjoyed my gift I left him. It saddened me that I wouldn’t be there to see the whole thing go down. But fuck ‘em all. They wanted me to be something crueler. And being around Gh’aliss brought out a lot of Reynolds and his way of thinking.

  Well, they got it.

  ************************

  A long time ago . . .

  Two Years Later

  Winston rode his fusion bike through Ars Amadel until he made his way to the magna-rail yard in the former Norfolk, Virginia. Humans worked loading raw materials for transport while only a few demons were present acting as foremen.

  Winston parked his bike and smiled. It was good to see that at least one of his former promises came true. But he was here on business. He just had to find the right person to talk to. One in particular he was looking for.

  He spotted the man coming out of the magna-rail engineer control trailer. Winston steeled himself and approached him. The man was smoking a new type of cigarette that the Synth Company had come up with. They weren’t bad, but nothing beat the original old-world brands.

  “You shouldn’t smoke that crap,” Winston said as he approached the tall, dark-haired man.

  “I know you?”

  “Not yet.” Winston smiled. “But I hear you’re the guy I’m looking for.”

  “You look familiar.”

  “I get that a lot. Well, I did, before my run-in with a fucking demon bishop,” Winston said before he ran his hand across his scarred face. “Fucking curfew my ass. Fuck those demons. Old world smoke?”

  “Heh, thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Winston. Yours?”

  “RM.”

  “Stand for anything?”

  “Richard Michael. But that’s not important,” RM said as he accepted the cigarette and breathed in deeply. “Mmm, thanks. Well, what can I do for you, Winston?”

  “I hear you might be a guy who can move things quietly and discreetly.”

  RM looked at the younger-looking man, still trying to puzzle out why he looked familiar. “Sorry, kid. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not a Hell-snitch.”

  “That’s what a snitch would say.”

  “Heh, fair enough. Look, here’s the deal. I’m in possession of a lot of . . . merchandise. Valuable merchandise. You help me get it to a few secure locations as well as maybe a few items go missing from your own shipments from time to time and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Aren’t you young to be a lightrunner?”

  “Never too young to stick it to the demons and carve out a little place of your own, you know? A human place.”

  “Where do I know you from?” RM asked, ignoring Winston’s fawning attempts at bonding.

  “I . . .” Winston paused. He considered a few more lies, but he knew they’d be seen through. So he decided to tell the truth. Well, a version of the truth.

  “I’m the man who killed Reynolds. I took everything he had from him. My reasons are my own. But I know you two had a past.”

  RM stared at him, past his scars and into his eyes. “You’re related to him. I see the resemblance. What are you, his kid?”

  “Something like that. But he was nothing more to me than a killer and a butcher and I’m glad he’s dead,” Winston said. His body began to visibly shake as he thought about the person known as “Reynolds.” “I know he knew you and it makes no sense that after all these years, I show up. But I wanted to fix at least one of his wrongs.”

  “And make a little money on the side while you’re at it?” RM asked Winston, who said nothing but silently nodded his head yes.

  RM remained silent and smoked his cigarette. He looked around at the rail yard and then back at Winston. “Yeah. He was a motherfucker. But, he gave us this place. I was like you once. I hated him. I can see it in your eyes you hated him. And he deserved to die, no question about that. If there was still a Hell, he’d be there. But he did one good thing in this place.”

  “Sorry,” Winston said. “I can see this is going nowhere. Nice meeting you.”

  “Hang on, kid,” RM said. “Tell you what, you come back tomorrow and work a shift or two. Learn the business and it would make it a lot easier for you to know the ins and outs of how items can get from place to place. And then . . . lost in transit.”

  “Are we in business then?” Winston asked.

  “Shit no. You work for me. On paper. But if you make some credits on the side, then throw a little back to the Brotherhood and we’ll help you out.”

  “Works for me,” Winston said.

  “Now, I’m starving. My shift is over and my sister always makes too much food. You hungry?”

  “Always.” Winston smiled.

  “Good. Get on your bike and follow me.”

  “Is your sister hot?”

  “Don’t make me shoot you, kid. Besides, she’s not your type.”

  ************************

  Now . . .

  “You put a lot of trust in these people,” Khurzon said, standing outside the rail yard as members of the Brotherhood worked to unload the children and separate them into three cargo pods.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said as I lit one of Gerhardt’s remaining cigarettes I’d kept safe in my thigh container.

  “People say you don’t trust easily.”

  “I don’t. But I trust RM.”

  “Why?”

  I considered the big demon’s question as I offered her a smoke. She took it and it looked tiny in her hands. I lit it for her and pointed to the Brotherhood members. “You see those guys?”

  “The humans? What about them?”

  “How many demonkind do you see?” I asked.

  Khurzon looked them over. “Almost none. A couple of mutts. Maybe a full demon or two. Why?”

  “The Brotherhood was formed long before the wars. Those men moved goods all across this country. When they re-formed, they became Brotherhood once more. They alone hold the transit across all of New Golgotha. All the shipping is under their control. When Hell tried to take it back, they stopped them. Ensured the flow of goods and materials stopped. Commerce came to a halt. They fought back and won. Bonds were forged. That’s why very few demonkind are among their ranks. Only a few token representatives and snitches.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “That when you are accepted by people like this, like my friend RM, you are allowed to trust. Even in a fucked-up world like this one.” I turned to stare at Khurzon in her yellow eyes. “You get these kids home, and that is the kind of trust I will have in you.” I put my hand out for her to take.

  Khurzon looked at me, judging my words. For most demons, words like trust and friendship were as foreign as the technology they tried and failed to grasp. But I always suspected Khurzon was different.

  She stuck out one of her big four arms and took my hand and we shook, staring each other in the eyes.

  “Just to let you know, the last demon I trusted betrayed me, and I beat him to within an inch of his life. I would have killed him if I wasn’t pulled off him,” I said with deadly seriousness. It wasn’t a threat. Just a matter of fact.

  “They will make it home,” she said, and I nodded.

  There was nothing more to say on the matter. Moments like these are too few and precious to dirty with words. I shook her hand one last time and released it, turning back to the workers loading the children.

>   When the children were loaded up, one of the Brotherhood members, an oldhead named Reggie, came over to Khurzon and me. He eyed the demon suspiciously and addressed me directly.

  From what RM told me about Reggie, and what I could see, the skinny older man was no joke. During the second war he had been part of the last standing Marine detachments. A lot of the Brotherhood were. And Reggie had the build of a man who worked hard all day and the hands of a man who has killed.

  Semper Fi.

  “OK, the kids are in transport pods. We are going to move them out in various directions to minimize detection. You have any security detail?” Reggie asked.

  I pointed to Khurzon. “Big bitch here will ride with the youngest. Keep them safe. You have a couple of men you trust for the other two?” I asked.

  Reggie gave me a look that said he was just short of being insulted. “Of course,” he said as he continued to inspect me, getting a feel for this stranger who showed up at his complex with forty-plus kids, a demon, and a giant. “You’re awful young to be a friend of RM’s. Way he spoke of you, sounded like y’all went way back.”

  “You nervous I’m pulling a con? That I’m some sort of piss-ant who coerced RM into throwing out some credentials?”

  “Something like that. Pull any yard work?”

  “Just a little. RM showed me around a bunch back in the day. I was too busy being a piss-ant for it to stick, though. I’m not pulling a con. I know what you’re thinking, a call from an old buddy and here comes a stranger into your area with a bunch of kids, a demon, and a giant. But I’m on the level.”

  I stepped in close to Reggie—not in an aggressive way, just one of meeting on equal footing. “Here’s the deal, General. I’m no hell-snitch. I know the difference between a brakeman’s tool and brake stick and I’ll be happy to come and work a shift one day. But in the meantime, I just want to get these kids home safe. Are you going to help, or are we going to have a cornfield meet, you CSX cocksucker?”

  Reggie crossed his arms and smiled, shaking his head. “Nazi Southern puke. I’ll get your men for the other two pods. Head out in five.”

  “Thanks, General. If you are ever down in the AG, stop in at Dante’s in Razor Bay, mention my name.”

  “Free drink?”

  “Hell no!” I laughed. “They’ll probably charge you double.”

  Reggie laughed, then headed back to his work leading the workers in the yard.

  “General?” Khurzon asked.

  “Yardmaster. They guy who barks the order for the others follow. Otherwise he’ll ensure they have an ‘accident.’”

  Khurzon nodded and headed out to the cargo pods with the youngest kids. She slung her cannons over her shoulder and looked back one last time before getting on board.

  “You’re an odd man, Salem. But I like you. I promise, the children will make it home.”

  “Keep them safe, you big bitch,” I said. Khurzon gave me four middle fingers and then got in the pod.

  When the other pods’ guards loaded up, the Magna-Rail trains glided away. I watched the trains leave, carrying the children away. I said another silent prayer, asking anyone or anything who was listening to get the kids home safe.

  Once the train was gone, I turned and headed to the outrider where Chael sat in the back seat patiently waiting, his dead eyes watching me intently.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, and I fired up the vehicle.

  “Yeah. I just don’t have a bloody clue where we’re going.”

  Chael smiled and gripped the vehicle. “Hold on,” he said as we blinked out of existence.

  ************************

  Suddenly we blinked back into existence. I’d just literally dematerialized into a billion pieces, flown through a stream of raw power at a speed I couldn’t comprehend, then reassembled in the middle of a snowy field. I fell out of the outrider to the snowy ground and puked.

  A lot.

  Everything was flat. In every direction there only seemed to be flat, snow-covered fields. Where the hell were we?

  Hold that thought . . .

  On my hands and knees in the elbow-deep snow, I hurled again until the dry heaves took over. After a few minutes when nothing came up anymore, I tried to convince my body it was OK to stop. When my stomach seemed to no longer hate me as if I owed it money, I collapsed on the ground.

  I rolled onto my back with an arm over my eyes and slowed my breathing to a deliberate pace. I put a handful of clean snow in my mouth and let it slowly melt, swallowing in short controlled bits, afraid to put too much back in me despite my burning thirst.

  I was happy I’d pilfered a warm coat. After a few more mouthfuls of snow, I pulled out a smoke and lit it, enjoying the brief moment while I assessed what had happened. Then Chael stepped over me, looming.

  “Chael.”

  “Yes?”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I moved us.”

  “I know that. How did you move us?”

  “The Lines.”

  “Could you be a bit more descriptive?”

  “Ley Lines,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “Gotcha,” I said.

  Grimm had once told me a little about Ley Lines. Magical lines of power that flowed around the world in various currents. The points where they intersected were where people were naturally drawn, and sometimes cities were built upon them.

  Chael had tapped into that flow, and poof—here we were. Which meant Chael was more than just a giant. The nephilim theory was becoming more likely. The bible did refer to the sons of angels as giants. They were mighty and terrible.

  Snubbing my smoke out in the snow, I was about to ask Chael if he could clue me in to where the hell we were when sudden and horrible shrieks pierced the peaceful night. The shrieks were then followed by a deafening roar. I turned towards the noise and I saw them.

  Abominations.

  Two fleshwings and a walker were coming. They must have sensed us or smelled us. Or hell, maybe we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Chael seemed to consider the monsters as they came towards us. The walker was a good three to four hundred yards away while the fleshwings were closing in fast.

  Shit shit shit! The giant demons were coming and we were in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to go.

  “Chael, which way do we go?!”

  “Away.”

  Damn it. No time for subtle. I leaped up and slapped the ten-foot man in the face hard. “Hey Lenny! Unless you want to be eaten, pull your head out of your ass and point us in the right goddamn direction right goddamn now!”

  Chael’s fist clenched and I was ready to dodge. Hell, I was ready to leave his giant ass if he didn’t get a moment of lucidity. Instead of punching me, the giant smiled and got in the outrider.

  Damn it. Hell, any direction away from these things was the right one as far as I was concerned. But I needed to slow the big bastards down.

  As Chael climbed in, I ran to the trunk. Grimm usually kept a couple of portable auto-tracking plasma cannons in the back for just such emergencies. Pop one or two down to stall the monsters, rev the engine and get the frack out of Dodge. I just hoped the guards at Flotsam hadn’t taken them.

  I popped the trunk and there were three auto cannons. Fantastic. But they weren’t the only thing I found in there.

  The first thing I wasn’t expecting to find were the bags of blood. Medically sealed, thick plastic bags of blood.

  Why did Grimm have bags of blood? Why the fuck were they in the trunk of his car? What on earth did he need this many bags of blood for? When I saw him next, I would need to ask him, because as my mind ran wild, I couldn’t think of too many logical reasons why he would need blood. And one of the bags looked like it had been torn open by someone’s teeth.

  I had to put that thought out of my mind for the moment. Because under the bags of blood was the other thing I didn’t expect to find.

  “TJ?! What the holy fuck are you doin
g in the trunk?!” I screamed at the stowaway covered in his own vomit.

  “Uhh, surprise?” the teenager responded weakly.

  Epilogue

  Archduchess Lady Bathin waited to enjoy her raw organic steak. They all had to wait for him. Bathin sat at the second seat of honor at the far end of the long rectangular table in Gerhardt’s antiquated formal dining room.

  Antique silver candelabras were lit, giving the room a pleasant, shadowy comfort. The table itself was hand-carved mahogany and replicated in such a fashion that it looked proper for demons, which was slightly too large for humans.

  Along the long ends of the tables, Master Tormentor Mastema sat quietly listening to his whelp, Gerhardt, describe new possible plans and renovations following the riots along with new pains for the indoctrination process.

  Bathin had to admit, the nephilim had some rather pleasantly painful ideas. Mastema would correct his child from time to time, giving advice from his vastly greater experience. Lady Bathin was amused at the thought that only a couple of centuries ago, Mastema would have done everything within his power to slaughter her and her kind at his master’s command.

  Archbishop Maz’ael entered the room and he looked quite disheveled. He was bleeding and his fine clothing was torn. He took a seat next to Gerhardt and a servant brought him a steak as well. Bathin remembered when Maz’ael came to her several months ago with the plan created by the lightrunner Salem. It was devious and incredibly risky, yet Bathin had been prepared for it.

  “Maz’ael,” Bathin addressed the young Gluttony demon, “you are bleeding.”

  “Yes, Lady Bathin. As predicted, when I showed Salem the children, he . . . reacted poorly.”

  “I see,” Bathin said as she rubbed her blue-scaled finger across the edge of her steak knife. “Do you believe he will attempt to recover the Tears?”

  “Yes. I do. Salem is hard-headed for sure. There is something about him that refuses to quit, no matter how hard the challenge.”