by Mason Dakota
I made my way up to Mayor Kraine’s office. It appeared the entire building was empty, except for Kraine and me. It was ironic, maybe even poetic, that in a time of crisis the building that stood to protect and govern the people lay abandoned.
Maybe one day I’ll burn this whole building down.
I approached Kraine’s office. Thomas and Michael remained outside in the car, judging me for what they feared I came to do but not brave enough to stand in my way. Hoping for the best, they expected the worst. They saw the gun I wore. They knew what I was capable of. I never tried to defend myself against their fears.
I heard Kraine pacing frantically inside his office. Papers rustled about. It sounded like they were being stuffed into a briefcase. I heard him curse at the pace his computer processed information he needed or needed to delete.
Kraine was attempting to flee the city.
Without knocking or invitation, I opened the door and stepped inside. Kraine reacted expectantly. He looked shocked and afraid as he jerked a gun from its resting place on his desk. I feared the gun would accidentally go off due to his clumsy grip.
I didn’t doubt Kraine’s capability to kill, but doubted he could do it with his own hands. Men like him ordered others to kill for them, so they could keep their own hands clean. But desperation and despair changes people.
“You! What are you doing here? How did you get in here? What do you want? If you have come to kill me, I swear I will shoot!”
Even I’m not sure why I came here.
Without missing a step I strode fully into the room and made myself comfortable in one of his office chairs. My aching body sank down and relaxed into the soft leather. I didn’t say anything as I sat there staring at Kraine and his gun. Kraine, shaking with obvious nervous energy, took a step back, snatching up his briefcase and papers in his other hand and covering his chest with them as he kept the gun pointed at me. Beads of sweat gathered across his brow and gradually his breathing grew rapid.
I saw his eyes dart to the pistol hanging at my side. He said, “I know who you are. You’re Shaman. You ruined everything! It was all going according to plan until you decided to rob me! ME! Why did you do it?”
Because someone I thought I trusted asked me to.
I remained silent. Kraine screamed, “Answer me when I talk to you or I will shoot! I swear to God I will! Why did you do it? Why did you come here? What do you want from me?”
“I wanted to see the man behind the mask,” I whispered.
Kraine stumbled back confused by my response. He shook his head and said, “What?”
I sighed and stood back up to my feet and said, “I wanted to know what a man who sells his own city in hopes that it will one day lead him to the top of the Empire looks like when the game is up.”
Kraine shook his head, but his eyes told me the truth. “You’re wrong. That’s not what happened.”
“You did all this,” I continued to say, “because…you feared…losing power. Greedy and full of vanity, that’s all you’ve ever been.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know everything, Josephus. I know that because the Emperor has no heir, many fear his passing will leave the empire crumbling into war and division. Maybe greed and vanity aren’t entirely responsible for your actions. Maybe you feared the unknown for your empire’s future.
“But we both know you are not that noble. I think you feared feeling weak…and insignificant. You wanted more. Your selfish greed caused all this. You became bored with your position and were afraid of losing everything when your uncle passed away, so you set a plan in motion.”
“Shut up!” shouted Kraine.
“You devised a plan,” I continued, “to set yourself up to be considered as a prime candidate for the Emperor’s throne when he died. What better way to convince the voters that you are perfect for the job than to be hailed as the hero of one of their most valued cities. But heroes need an enemy and who better than Nebula, a terror whispered about in the shadows. You established a contract with them with the deal that you would seem like a hero in the end. But they broke their deal with you to suit their own agenda.”
“I said shut up!”
“You did all this to secure the throne for yourself. What was next? Assassinate your uncle? You failed, Josephus. Everyone knows what you planned and what you’ve done to Chicago. The chaos out there is not my fault. It’s yours!”
I stabbed my finger at Kraine and in his fright and anger he fired his gun. The gun kicked back with a roar and I squeezed my eyes shut in fear. But Kraine, with all his lust for control and power, proved to be a poor shot. His bullet lay lodged in the wall behind me. I lowered my hand and stood there quietly. Kraine’s hand sunk several inches lower as if the pistol suddenly weighed twenty pounds.
I said, “You wanted the world, Josephus, but lost your soul in the process. Every death today is on your hands. Even you could be hanged for your actions.”
Kraine scoffed and shook his head, the first sign of the old Kraine returning. He lowered the gun and said, “No, my uncle has other plans for me. He’s reassigned me as acting warden of a Noble prison east of here. A place called Grimway. An escort is supposed to be arriving here shortly to take me away to my new post.”
“That blockade is meant to keep you in as much as it is to keep everyone else out.”
He chuckled, raised his hands out to his sides and said, “I’m the imprisoned Mayor.”
“You were attempting to escape, then,” I said as I glanced around the room at the overstuffed boxes.
“Have you come to stop me?”
I didn’t answer him. I think that made him more nervous. I just didn’t know yet. Slowly, he lifted his gun back at me and said, “You know if I killed you people would call me a hero. That’s redemption delivered on a silver platter.”
Before he fired, I clicked my bo-staff and shot it to its full length. The end smashed against Kraine’s wrist and launched Kraine’s pistol out of his hand and across the room. His eyes darted to where his gun landed. I pointed the end of my staff in his face and whispered, “Don’t try it. Only warning.”
Kraine swallowed, nodded his head and settled back into his chair. I remained standing, towering over him like a giant. I didn’t lower the bo-staff but used it instead to force my point more clearly.
“I have no intention to kill you, Josephus. But I’ve also no intention to let you escape.”
“So you’re just going to let me die here?”
“No. I’m allowing you to accept your new position.”
“Is that the kind of hero you pretend to be?”
“I never claimed to be a hero,” I said before I struck him across the cheek with my bo-staff. It felt really good. Kraine fell over unconscious. “That’s for the crummy office.” I left the office and its Mayor to fate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Thomas’ prediction about the time it took to get us where we needed to be did not account for rush hour Chicago traffic in a time of crisis.
Ziavir’s prediction proved right.
The city turned to darkness by turning on itself. At each exit out of the city, NPFC officers barred the way out, fighting back against a crowd of angry citizens. A chorus of screams and curses filled the air. NPFC officers carrying batons and riot shields fought panicking civilians in the streets. A few officers opened fire into the crowd of pedestrians to keep them back. Bodies stacked up on the sidewalks. Good people smashed into stores to take whatever they wanted and set fires on the way out. Gun shots rang. Blood poured.
It was mayhem.
Ziavir threatened to kill everyone and the people went mad and killed each other instead.
Is that what Ziavir meant by what he said?
When I got back to the car Michael and Thomas wouldn’t look at me. They sat silent and fidgeted in their seats. We drove for a while like that, not making it far before I felt compelled to tell them everything that happened with Kraine. I sensed a weight lifte
d from their shoulders upon hearing I did not kill Kraine.
But did I make the right choice…
“Take a right up ahead,” I said to Thomas. Thomas fought angrily against the traffic to get the slow moving sedan to turn right. Twice he slammed on the brakes when people ran screaming wildly in front of the car. Someone threw a bottle of liquor on the windshield and it shattered glass and golden liquid across our view.
“Are you going to tell us why we aren’t heading straight for the factory?” asked Thomas.
“Or who this ‘back-up’ is?” chimed in Michael from the back seat. He typed frantically on his holographic computer and keyboard. I didn’t dare ask what he worked on but I imagined he was engaged in one of his role-playing video games to calm his nerves.
Thomas kept his eyes on the road and only grew increasingly frustrated with the traffic. Watching both of them made me contemplate getting out and running away. I brought an angry kid in his mid-twenties and a hyper-functioning genius with poor motor and social skills along to save the world.
What if I am leading them to their doom? What if I’m on my way there myself?
I guessed how Michael would handle himself in a fight; lots of crying and screaming but enough sense to get the job done. But I had no idea how Thomas would handle himself. If he froze, someone could die. The risks were high.
But to follow me they needed to trust me. And to trust me…I had to be honest with them…for once. My life hung in their hands…and theirs in mine. They deserved my honesty.
“We’re going to go see the Lady.”
I didn’t need to glance into the back seat to know Michael’s facial expression. “Wh—what? Why? Why on earth would you think that’s a good idea?” he stammered.
I sighed. I didn’t like it either but we needed her help. We needed an army and Alexandra owned one. “We need her help. She’s got an army and we don’t. In a few hours she will be dead just like us. If we set aside our differences to work together we’ve got a chance to live.”
“The world burns itself and you’re counting on the mob to save the day?” asked Thomas.
“She did vow to kill you after your last chat,” added Michael.
“She vowed to kill you? Literally vowed? And here I thought you guys were out of your minds before.” said Thomas.
“Alexandra is a business woman as well as a survivalist. She won’t hesitate to fight. Without the NPFC she is our best chance of succeeding.”
Michael sighed and laid his head back against his headrest. Thomas took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose. I could relate to their unhappiness at our situation. When I called her, the Lady agreed to see me, but that didn’t mean she didn’t intend to immediately put a bullet in my head.
No problem. How hard can this be?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Finally, after struggling through chaotic traffic, we pulled up in front of the Lady’s estate. Armed crooks with machine guns lined the street in front of her home. Their presence kept any crazed fool from approaching and doing something stupid, like asking the Lady to sacrifice her life and the lives of her men to save thousands of strangers. And my friends and me.
“That’s a lot of guns,” whispered Thomas.
“Could be worse,” said Michael.
“How? How is driving into a den of killers carrying machine guns not deadly enough?”
“They could be carrying military-issued blaster rifles,” said Michael.
“Praise God for gun control laws so strict not even Ziavir and the Lady have access to military-grade blaster rifles,” I said.
The mobsters gave us ugly looks and adjusted their grips on their guns to clearly communicate warnings as we drove through the front gate and courtyard. They surrounded the vehicle. I swallowed my nerves and said, “Well…here we go.”
Michael pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and said, “Yeah…I think I will just stay here. You know…watch your back from here. J—just in case one of them tries to sneak up on you.”
Thomas, glancing from one gun barrel to the next, nodded and said, “Yeah I think I’ll do the same.”
“Just call us if you need anything,” said Michael.
“Thanks, Guys,” I growled.
If fear kept them from meeting a potential ally, how would they respond when faced against a real monster?
Maybe I’m making a mistake here.
I opened the door and stepped out. The men lining the driveway tightened their grips on their guns. I spotted one man with a nasty shiner on his left eye. I recognized him as the man I fought two nights before. He snarled and spat at my feet.
“Try anything funny and I’ll kill you, Outcast,” he spat.
Get in line, Bud.
Ignoring the threat, I confidently strode forward like a king in his castle. It proved challenging when breathing hurt. Truthfully I was terrified. Bruises covered my face and ribs. My headache was a monkey with cymbals slapping me across the head. I struggled not to limp or move my left arm too much. I fought to appear unharmed and strong. I’m not sure who believed my deception or who benefited from it.
Probably only me.
That’s all that mattered.
Lady Alexandra stood at the top of her front steps. She stared down at me with the company of several armed mobsters. She wore cargo pants, a blouse under a dark green jacket, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Dark aviator sunglasses hid her eyes. I noticed a pistol at her side.
The men with guns were just for show. Alexandra and that pistol were the real threat.
“My Lady,” I said with a slight bow of the head. The corners of her mouth twitched.
“Shaman…I don’t know whether to kill you or thank you after what happened last night, though I do remember you being…taller then. Have you shrunk?”
I shrugged and said, “I ate a big lunch that day.”
Again that twitch of her lips. “And where is your friend, the handsome brute from the other night?”
I tilted my head and said, “Unfortunately he couldn’t make it, but he does send his regards, my Lady.” Best not to let her know Chamberlain lay in a coma.
There are some things you just don’t tell a psychopath.
“That’s such a shame. I so wanted to see him again. There was something I wished to give him, in fact.” She smiled for the first time with a full flash of teeth as she thrummed the handle of her pistol.
Do panthers make the same expression before they kill?
“I’ll make sure he is made aware of that.”
“Why have you come, Shaman?”
“You know why, Alexandra.”
“Yes, but I want to hear you say it in front of all my men.”
She purred the words like a cat and I grunted in frustration. “I need your help to stop Ziavir.”
I tried not to jump as Alexandra whipped out the pistol and pointed it at my forehead. From here, she could shoot me blindfolded. I raised my hands and stood very still.
“Convince me,” she purred, “it’s worth my time and effort. If I don’t like your answer, I find another interesting game to play with you.”
“There isn’t much time before that bomb goes off,” I quickly stated. “When it does we’ll both be dead. Even you won’t be able to hide from that blast! But together we have a chance to stop it and save lives. I know you want to kill me. Most people do. But killing me won’t stop what’s coming. Helping me may.”
She clicked back the hammer of the pistol and said, “I’m too much of a hedonist to care for others. It’s in my nature. Just like my nature tells me I’ll enjoy killing you.”
“Then you will die like everyone else. I’m the only one who knows where Ziavir is or how to stop him,” I half-way lied.
I knew where Ziavir was, sure, but how to stop him…
“Your mistake is thinking that I interpret Ziavir’s message the same as everyone else. You don’t know for sure that he plans to burn Chicago.”
“A
nd you don’t know that he doesn’t. But we both know for certain he is destroying this city. That’s why you are holed up here—to protect yourself from what is happening out there.”
She smirked but said nothing.
“You can pull that trigger and end my life and your chance for survival, or you can help me, and I promise you’ll have plenty of chances in the future to try your luck at killing me. What have you got to lose, Alex?”
I spread my arms out to my side. I saw her clinch her jaw and instantly regretted using the nickname. I tried to be light-hearted and comical; I forgot I spoke to a homicidal woman pointing a gun at me.
I really need to work on my people skills.
“Bargaining for your life is beneath you, Shaman. I want to know what I get when I succeed. If my men and I are going to risk our lives, I want to know that we come out richer for it.”
“I have no money to give you,” I said.
“Then I’ll give you until the count of three to find something worth my effort or I shoot you where you stand.”
What can I possibly offer her?
“One,” she said right before firing her gun. The bullet struck right next to my foot and sent up a small cloud of dust and debris that stung my ankles. I skipped to the side and cursed under my breath.
She’s going to kill me if I don’t give her something!
Thomas and Michael threw open their car doors and got a single step outside the vehicle when suddenly half a dozen men with machine guns, locked and loaded, swarmed around them. Both my friends raised their empty hands and sank back into the car.
“Sorry, don’t worry about us,” I heard Michael tell one mobster as he slipped back into his seat. The Lady’s men never lowered their machine guns.
So much for the help!
Distracted by Michael and Thomas, I failed to hear Alexandra say, “Two.”
Her bullet grazed me. It cut through my coat sleeve and skinned my arm. I hissed in pain as my other arm shot to cover the wound. A trace of blood trickled over my fingers.
She aimed her pistol at my forehead and said, “Three.”
