The Dead Pools

by Michael Hesse

  A bemused smile flickered across the priest’s face. “Oh come now, even if I were as frail as I appear, you couldn’t kill me. Your own unit is stationed around my church and they’d hunt you down like a rabid dog. But I think that makes the point that you’re unusually disruptive.”

  Father Chris waved his hand casually, as if brushing a speck of dust or a fly that buzzed too close and I was instantly bound to my chair. Crackling energies wrapped around me like bands of steel, crushing against my ribs, forcing the air from my lungs. No sorcerer I knew could work magick with such apparent ease. No human sorcerer.

  Straining against the crushing weight I fought to fill my lungs, but I could barely draw a sip of air. Pinpricks of light exploded behind my eyes. Blood pounded in my ears. “I didn’t act upon my thoughts,” I gasped. “If you kill me now it’s murder, and in a church no less. How would your God view that?”

  With another gesture, just as casual, the energies surrounding me withdrew. Air rushed back into my burning lungs, sending me into a coughing fit that nearly flung me from my chair. Gasping for air, the pounding in my head resolved itself, centering on the priest’s locked door.

  Father Chris continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “As I said earlier, you’re quite the vexing problem. I suppose I will have to wait and see how events play out. But know this, Julian Le Mort, Son of Madera, if you stray too far into the dark, I will be there to end you before you cause too much harm.”

  I bit back the snappy reply lurking behind my teeth. It was probably for the best. Don’t antagonize the scary man who can kill you with a snap of his fingers. Another gesture from the priest opened the door behind us and Mac and the Captain rushed in.

  “What happened?” Mac asked. “I felt the magick. Did he try and hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” I gasped. “Just a little short of breath.”

  Mac ignored me. He’d been speaking to the priest.

  “No, no,” Father Chris laughed. “There’s no problem here, not yet in any event. Young Julian and I were just involved in vigorous assessment of his life.”

  Mac glanced over at me and then back at the priest, unsure of what to make out of the Father’s comment.

  “And what is your assessment of the questions we asked you to consider?” the Captain asked.

  The priest took his time in answering, which didn’t make me feel any better. At least the coughing was coming under control.

  “Your soldier is free from the stain of murder,” Father Chris answered. “I wouldn’t say that he isn’t capable. We all are unfortunately, but that particular sin doesn’t tarnish his soul.”

  “Thank God,” the Captain said, “and the other thing, the mark upon him?”

  “Yes, thank God indeed,” the priest replied. “As I understand it, the question of leakage from his Brand is more concerning than the status of his soul. I can assure you gentlemen that the hand that inscribed him with that mark intended great harm. As it is, however, the intention and the result were quite different. What he bears now appears constructed to store magick, much like an amulet is constructed to harness energies against future need. There’s more to it than that, but its ultimate aim is obscured somehow. All I can tell you with confidence is that it will not bring unwarranted attention to him or your unit as long as it is covered. Uncovered, however, it serves as a warning as was intended.”

  Father Chris stopped us as we turned to leave. “Stuart,” he said, “did you know that you were followed?”

  We stopped dead in our tracks and slowly turned around. “How—

  Father Chris held up his hand, cutting off the Captain’s question. “Two men in a dark SUV with government plates pulled off the interstate ten minutes behind you. They’ve spent the last thirty minutes working their way through a search grid that will bring them here in less than ninety more. You need to finish briefing your men and be on your way before that happens.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” the Captain asked.

  A bemused smile flickered across Father Chris’ lips. “Isn’t that why you called me, Stuart? You did the right thing. You followed your instincts. You protected your men. Now you need to set them on the proper path and let events play out as they will. Your part in this drama is nearly at an end.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Father?” Mac snapped.

  Father Chris shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I wish I knew for sure,” he apologized, “but there is a shadow stretching across the weave that I cannot pierce. All I can say with certainty is that once you leave this place Stuart, you will no longer influence the pattern that emerges.”

  “That’s simple then,” Mac said. “Captain, you’ll stay here—

  “No,” the Captain shook his head, “I can’t do that. The OSS will come and find me here. There’s more, isn’t there, something that you’re not telling us?”

  “Yes,” Father Chris admitted. “The threads of the living and of the dead have become entangled and threaten to knot. Small knots can be teased apart, but larger knots threaten the integrity of the weave. If that happens, they will have to be cut out.”

  “And that’s bad, right?” I asked.

  Father Chris smiled faintly, shaking his head. “It’s happened before,” he said. “Ask William about Genesis nineteen sometime, but for now, time is running short. Stuart, there’s a natural clearing just north of the parking lot, past the bent oaks. Go there to instruct your team.”

  Chapter 20

  Unknown, Monday 22:00

  Outside the Church of Christ the Thaumaturgist

  “What’s Genesis nineteen?” I asked Mac as we stepped outside.

  “We don’t have time for this now,” Mac snapped. “I’ve got to gather the unit.” Raising his fingers to his mouth he blew two shrill bursts. Nunez stepped out from the undergrowth and Mac waved him to the north end of the parking lot. Stevens joined us as we hustled across the tarmac.

  Everyone followed the Captain who led us under two oaks forming an arch at the north end of the lot. Just beyond them we found the natural clearing that Father Chris had described. While Mac hastily prepared the area with a circle I turned to Ramirez. “What’s Genesis nineteen?” I asked.

  Ramirez laughed. “Seriously?” he asked. “What did that priest do to you?”

  “Damn it, I’m not converting. He said things could get as bad as Genesis nineteen. I’m a witch, I don’t know what the Hell he’s talking about.”

  “Hell man, Mac’s the thumper. I don’t know.”

  Nunez nearly scared the crap out of me when he slipped in beside me. If you lost sight of him for just one moment, he’d disappear. “Sodom and Gomorrah,” he whispered. “Genesis nineteen describes the destruction of those cities by God.”

  “Oh shit, so that’s what he meant by cutting the knots out.”

  A glance from the Captain quickly silenced us before I could explain any further. Mac finished the circle and after a quick look to make sure everyone was inside the boundary, he energized it. My Brand tingled as energies raced around the barrier.

  Nodding to Mac, the Captain turned to face the rest of us. “I don’t have much time,” he said. “Mac will update you on the current situation, but before I go, I need to bring you all up to speed. Two weeks from now DDO Chamberlain is presenting a plan in an emergency session of the Senate’s Armed Forces Committee to reorganize Shadow Company and place it entirely under OSS control--

  The immediate chorus of angry shouts drowned out the Captain’s next words. Ramirez and Stevens were practically foaming at the mouth, while Nunez stood mutely with his mouth hanging open. Even Mac appeared stunned by the revelation. I had the shakes.

  It felt as if the ground opened up and threatened to swallow me whole. Everything that I depended upon was falling apart. The foundation of my new life was crumbling right before my eyes and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Not only would I spend the rest of my miserable life confined in one of their prisons, if the OSS se
ized control of the Company they would be turned against my people. The witch problem would be ended once and for all in the name of national security.

  “Captain,” I said as soon as I could choke the words out, “if that’s the case, why sneak us off base?”

  The Captain held up his hands and Mac growled for quiet. Even now, unit discipline reigned. After a moment or two of silence the Captain continued. “Ultimately Thorn, I don’t think we can stop this. I ordered my men off base so that they could get you safely across the border. If you were innocent and Father Christopher says you are, I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t suffer any further. I couldn’t live with that weighing on my conscience. There are civilian clothes in the back of my car for each of you. With a little luck and some hard driving, you should be able to make the border in less than a day. After that, the rest of the unit will return to the Okefenokee and finish out your survival training and report back to base as scheduled. Private Le Mort will be listed as AWOL at that time.”

  “Sir, please don’t think I’m ungrateful for what you’ve done, I just don’t understand. None of this makes any sense.”

  “Thorn’s right Sir,” Mac interrupted, “this doesn’t make sense. The OSS has always wanted complete control, but Congress would never go for it. No one trusts those bastards. What’s changed and why now? There’s something we’re missing here.”

  “It’s the Dust,” I said. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face me. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you before now, but Chamberlain’s connected to the Dust.” I quickly filled the unit in on the vision I’d stolen from Ortiz about the demonstration. The man I’d seen with the starburst scar around his eye was Chamberlain. I had no doubt. He was up to his neck in whatever was happening.

  No one spoke until I finished and then pandemonium reigned. No one doubted what I’d seen, the problem was what to do with the information. For civilians this would be a complicated issue, but for soldiers the solutions are much clearer. Ramirez summed it up best. “Shoot the bastard,” he suggested. “We get Nunez within what, a thousand yards, maybe two . . .

  “I can guarantee success at fifteen hundred,” Nunez replied. “After that it gets tricky.”

  “Fine, that gives us three quarters of a mile to work with—

  “Stop right there,” the Captain cried. “I’m not signing off on murder.”

  “We’re not talking about murder Sir,” Stevens argued. “If the DDO is working with the cartel then he’s sanctioned the use of black magick inside the US. That’s a death penalty offense.”

  “Then I suggest you figure out a way to prove that, soldier. Mac, if you do find proof bring it to me ASAP. I’ve got a friend in the FBI, she’s a straight shooter. She brought the samples that started this mess. If I’m not available Major Lansing’s your best bet, he’ll know how to contact the right people. His son’s in the Company and he knows what’s at stake. You prove that Chamberlain’s connected and you bring that information to me or him, directly. No one else.”

  “We’re soldiers’ Sir, not cops. We identify the enemy and we neutralize him. That’s what we do.”

  With a sigh the Captain held up his hands and tried to regain control of the unit. “Stevens, Ramirez, I understand what you’re saying and personally I agree, but think this through. Let’s say you do take Chamberlain out, what then? How many people in the US are skilled enough to make a fifteen-hundred-yard headshot? A hundred? Less? Out of those, how many have a motive for taking out the DDO? I guarantee that you’ll be behind bars within a week. If you’re going to take him on, you can’t do it directly.”

  “Mac, I’ve got to go. I don’t want the OSS sniffing around here. Follow me back to my car and get the men’s clothes. Father Christopher said you could use his car to take Thorn to the border. Whatever you eventually decide, get him out of here.”

  “If you’re not available?” Steven’s asked the question everyone else had missed. “Why wouldn’t you be available? What else is going on, Sir, if you don’t mind?”

  The Captain paused. I could see that he didn’t want to have to answer him, but it was obvious that we weren’t just going to let him go.

  “Look, I don’t know what you men stumbled into, but it’s quite clear you stumbled into something big. Father Christopher told me back there that I was followed by two OSS agents. I don’t know what they want, but I’m damn sure that it has something to do with whatever beehive you men tipped over. There was no reason for the DDO to be interested in the charges against Thorn, no matter how much he pissed off Agent Manx.”

  “My best guess,” the Captain continued, “is that DDO Chamberlain is very interested in knowing what you men learned as well as whatever I may know. Right now, that’s damn near squat, but he doesn’t know that. My guess is that I’ll be introduced to one of their Inquisitors. Ramirez, Thorn, I doubt you’ve forgotten your own experience.”

  I shuddered at the memory of Agent Smith and his methods. I glanced back towards the church. Come to think of it, there was something oddly familiar with the old priest’s abilities . . .

  I tuned back in just as the Captain was finishing, “I’ve got some leave saved up, so it seems like a good time to take it. Mac, you know how to reach me if I can shake my pursuers. If not, well then, do me proud.”

  Everyone saluted.

  I don’t know what was going through anyone else’s head, but I was torn up. Life in the unit hadn’t been easy, but it was the only place outside the wire where I’d been treated like a man. The Captain, the unit, even Mac if I were honest, had done good by me. He might have chewed my ass for eighteen months, but no more so than anyone else fresh to the Company. I couldn’t walk away from all of that and leave them to face what was coming alone.

  By the time Mac returned carrying bundles of our clothes, I’d made up my mind. I’d escaped from the camps before the hammer came down and I’d run for nearly two years afterwards. The only home I’d known since I was a child was with these men. I couldn’t abandon them. I wouldn’t start running again. If I did, it would never end.

  “I’m not going,” I said changing into a turtleneck and Oxford combination that might look normal in the middle of winter. Here and now in the height of a Georgia summer I’d draw stares and snickers I was certain, but at least it hid the Brand.

  “Thorn, the Captain—

  I cut Mac off. I’d never done it before, I hadn’t dared, but I had nothing more to lose. “The OSS expects me to run for the border. They’ll have a thousand agents in the streets hunting me down. The Captain wouldn’t want you sacrificing yourselves for me and we can’t let him sacrifice himself. The only way we’re going to fix this is to find out what’s going on and root it out at the source.”

  “And just how are we going to do that?” Stevens asked. “Ortiz is dead and he was the only link between Chamberlain and the cartel. Let it go Thorn, we’ve got nothing.”

  Glancing around the circle I saw that the others agreed. They weren’t happy about it, but what alternative did we have? I had to figure out something or once they smuggled me into Canada they’d go after Chamberlain directly, despite the Captain’s wishes.

  “There’s got to be something,” I said, desperate for some other course. “Nunez, the Captain told you to dig up anything you could on Ortiz. Did you find anything that could help?”

  Nunez shook his head slowly. “There wasn’t much. Either there wasn’t much on him anyway or the OSS wiped it clean before I could pull his records.”

  “There has to be something,” I insisted.

  “Look Thorn, I want this as badly as anyone,” Nunez said, “but there’s nothing. Atlanta PD arrested Ortiz trying to unload a kilo of Dust less than a week ago. They traced the shipment back to a storage facility near the airport and found four bodies and a crate of burned auto parts. They figure that the rest of the shipment was there, but someone torched it. After that they hit a dead end. Everyone connected to that shipment is dead. There’s now
here else to go.”

  “So, we’ll start there,” I insisted.

  “It’s pointless,” Stevens said. “Didn’t you hear Nunez? The police have been all through that warehouse. They found nothing.”

  “No, listen to me. Ramirez, Mac, think about it. Someone hit that shipment. Ortiz couldn’t have killed four men by himself and why torch the Dust if he was going to sell it? It doesn’t make any sense. Someone knows more about this.”

  “The police found nothing, Thorn. After what we’ve been through, I want Chamberlain as bad as anyone, but you’ve got to learn when give up,” Mac said. “We’ll honor the Captain’s wishes and get you across the border. That’s the best we can do.”

  “The police don’t have sorcerers,” I snapped, “and they certainly don’t have witches working in their department. What are the odds that they missed something?”

  “Thorn’s right,” Ramirez said. “The cops know shit about magick and this whole thing stinks of it. We’ve got to go north anyway, so what does it matter if we check out the warehouse first? If we find nothing then we’ll keep going, but if there’s something they missed . . . why then we’ll do what we do best.”

  “All right,” Mac said after a moment. “I don’t think we’ll find anything, but it’s worth a try. Store the uniforms in the Hummer and pull out the equipment we might need. In the mean time I’ll speak to the good Father and borrow his car. Dismissed.”

  #

  They built ‘em big in ’57. All our equipment disappeared into the cavernous trunk with room to spare. Ramirez joked that there was enough room left inside for me. I declined to test his theory. I might love him like a brother, but I had no doubt that he’d slam the lid closed and I’d spend a couple miles bouncing atop crates of supplies and ammunition.

  We were unusually quiet as we pulled out of the parking lot. Normally there’s a sense of excitement when we start a mission, but this evening we each kept separate council. Things were changing and not for the better. At best we had a slim chance of discovering something that might lead us towards a solution, but none of us knew what that might be or where it might lead.