Storm Forged

by Patrick Dugan

  He climbed up the ladder, stepping through the hatch. He looked out when no one else followed. “Either get on or we’re leaving without you.”

  I glanced at Jon and Abby. They both shrugged, so I went in. I hoped the thing smelled better than the dock. I was sadly disappointed.

  We took the ladder down into the faintly-lit Squid. Old fold-down seats and standing water on the floor greeted us. Jose pulled down a chair and buckled himself in with a four-strap harness. “We ride in style today.”

  Abby grunted and took a seat. Jon glanced at me and did the same. At least we weren’t swimming.

  The entrance hatch clanged shut above us as I fastened the belts across my chest and waist. Seatbelts in a submarine didn’t do much to alleviate my dread at being underwater in a leaky old death trap. The engines roared to life behind us. Abby shouted something, but talking over the noise of the engines didn’t work. I glanced over at Jose; the bastard wore earplugs.

  The Squid lurched away from the dock, tipping to the left so hard I would have flown across the aisle onto Abby if not for the belt. Abby flattened against the seat, directly down from me as I hung from the straps. The engines belched, and then the Squid leveled itself out so we sat normally. Disneyland could learn a lot about rollercoasters from the Squid.

  The loud noise, days of driving, and gentle rocking action sent me off to sleep. I don’t know how long we traveled. Twice we made rolling turns that scared me to death. I thought sleep would be impossible after each, but my weary body took over.

  I came awake as I felt the Squid slow. I reached for the clasps that would release me, but Jose shook his head. The engine cut back.

  “What’s going on?” I yelled over the subdued engine noise.

  Jose took out an ear plug. “Not sure, amigo, but it’s no bueno.”

  The engine fired up, and Jose quickly put back in the plug before the Squid jolted. A loud metallic clang could be heard from outside the ship, louder than the engines. The Squid rolled hard to the right as a low thwump sounded much closer than I was comfortable with. The ship slid sideways through the water. Another bang and thwump followed, causing the ship to roll like a fumbled football across the ground. The lights flicked as water hissed through two places in the hull. Abby and I were spared the soaking, but Jon wasn’t as lucky.

  The engines screamed as the pilot righted the ship. More dull thumps went off, but no more leaks developed, and the Squid sped off through the water.

  Eventually, the engines slowed then stopped. The bulkhead door creaked as it opened. A young guy with long, greasy hair shoved under a knit hat popped his head out. “Everybody okay?” I guess you didn’t get clean and polite pilots on the Squid.

  Jose snarled. “Qué coñot. You try to get us killed?”

  The pilot flipped him off. “Protectorate changed the mines or something. You can walk back if you’d like, señor.”

  I stifled a laugh. Not many people stood up to the Grim Reaper and lived. Of course, once back on dry land, he might not.

  “We’re past the minefield, and we didn’t take too much damage. Should be a quiet ride from here.” The door slammed shut with a loud metallic clang. My gut tightened. It sounded a bit too much like the mines hitting the hull for my taste. The engines came back on, and we resumed our voyage.

  Some change in the Squid announced we were almost there. We climbed steadily, tilting us toward the rear of the cabin. Vertigo swept over me as the world inclined as we rose to the surface. The Squid jumped as it broke free of the water, plunging back down to float to our final destination, dropping whatever was left of my stomach to my ankles.

  Once we stopped moving, Jose unbuckled his harness. We followed him out of the hatch. The pilot stood on the dock, speaking to a man in overalls and a clipboard. Jon and Abby jumped down rather than use the ramp. I decided to walk down the far safer alternative, plus I’d promised Wendi I’d be careful.

  Once all together, Jose led off. As we passed the pilot, Jose rabbit punched him in the back, dropping him to his knees. The pilot screamed in agony, and having been on the receiving end of Jose’s punches, I knew why. Jose seized him by the hair and drove his fist into his face. Blood fountained out of the man’s broken nose.

  “Why…” the pilot stammered.

  Jose got down in his face. “You’d better know who you dealin’ with before you flip ’em off, hombre.” Jose hooked the front of the pilot’s coat and threw him in the bay. He turned on overalls man. “You got a problem?”

  “No, no, sir, I don’t.” The man backed away, his hands raised in surrender.

  Jose spat at his feet. With a jerk of his head, he indicated we should follow. These are the times I’m very happy we are on the same side. We passed through the derelict buildings, around dead cars, and through waist-high weeds. In the distance, a bridge swayed slightly on its remaining supports. All around stood devastation.

  “What is this place?” Abby said. Her voice sounded loud in the absolute silence of deserted city.

  “That was known as the tidal basin.” Jose gestured back over his shoulder. “Up ahead is where the Underground has set up shop. We need to keep moving. If you see rats, run.”

  At a pace just short of running, we headed for the Underground’s base. Our heads were on a swivel as we followed along. We had all heard horror stories of rats the size of small dogs roaming the cities destroyed by the death ray. Everyone laughed them off as urban myth, but seeing the remains in person made me rethink my belief.

  We moved across what once had been a series of concrete roads crossing over like the beginning of a braid, still packed with the crushed remains of traffic from the day Washington died. I looked both ways out of a lifetime of habit then chided myself as there was no possibility of any traffic on these roads.

  A mass of blacked bricks next to a burnt stump of masonry stood before us. Some sort of building had been there, but the surrounding area sat empty except for the tumbled blocks and twisted, rusted metal sticking up out of the heap. Jose circled around the base, but I walked up, standing on the support stone. “What was this?” I asked him.

  Jose paused, surveying the area. He joined me on the stones with Abby and Jon in tow. “This used to be the Washington Monument. George Washington founded the United States long before the Protectorate renamed us the North American Zone.” He shook his head as he spoke, his face twisted in what I took to be disgust. I swear he sounded like Mr. Coe, our neighbor from Boston. “After the Protectorate took over, they destroyed the monument and the White House where the United States President lived so people would give up hope of things ever returning to normal.”

  “It must have been huge,” Abby said.

  “Yes, it was,” Jose said. “It was beautiful and overlooked a reflecting pool. People would come from all over the world to see Washington. We had better get moving before it gets dark.”

  I stood for a minute imagining what it would have had been like. I couldn’t. Sadness crept in, mourning for a marvelous place I’d never seen.

  I ran to catch up with the others. We followed along the potholed road leading to the Underground. The street overflowed with wrecked cars and trucks as if an unruly toddler had flung his toys across the city. According to Powell, when the death ray hit, people disintegrated on the spot. These drivers died instantly, but their cars kept going, as evidenced by the wreckage we passed through.

  The road led toward a gray five-story building. Most of the windows were covered with boards. The top of the building had once had a decorative edge, but the majority of the façade had fallen off. The remaining parts looked like jumpers standing on the edge before they leapt to join their brothers who had gone before them to their deaths.

  I awoke from my reverie by a scraping sound coming from behind the rusted hulk of an old mini-van that stretched across the sidewalk. Jose froze, his hand up to tell us to stop. The sickly green glowing scythe popped into being, a beacon in the failing afternoon light. The scratching noise cont
inued. Jose motioned for us to follow, his finger across his lips, as if we needed to be told to be quiet. Jon’s eased his knife out of the scabbard as we crept past the dilapidated van. Abby pulled off her dampening bracelet. Without an energy source, I couldn’t fight. Blaze’s voice echoed in my head: “The only time you stop fighting is when you’re dead.” I wasn’t sure if the moves Blaze had taught me worked on giant rats, but I’d go down swinging.

  Two rats climbed over the remains of the rusted mini-van, noses high in the air, sniffing. I could see a third one’s back, taller than the broken-out car window. The lead rat’s thick corded tail lashed against the mini-van’s roof, the sound echoing in the silence of the deserted street.

  Jon reached down and snagged a chuck of concrete from the sidewalk. The rats charged, squealing as they ran toward us. Fresh meat must be rare in a city of the dead.

  The lead rat dropped as the improvised projectile hit it right between the eyes. The second made the mistake of going after Jose. The scythe flashed, removing the rat’s head in one move. Jose grabbed his skull, screaming in agony as he sunk to his knees.

  The third rat launched itself at me. I tripped over a bumper off one of the cars, falling backward off the sidewalk into the weeds. The rat’s teeth snapped where I would have been if I hadn’t fallen. I kicked it in the face, but it barely noticed. I rolled to the side as the rat leapt, fully intending to land on me. Suddenly, it swung away from me, smashing into the remains of a truck. The metal gave way as the rat impacted the rusted chassis, leaving a dent the size of the entire car. Abby screamed as she reversed the rat’s direction and threw it a good fifty feet into the weeds. She ran over to pull me up.

  “It didn’t bite you, did it?” She vigorously searched me for damage, and I’m surprised her checking didn’t do any.

  “No, I’m fine thanks to you,” I said. “Abby, I owe you one.”

  Jon approached from behind us. He’d never gotten close enough to be in any danger. I guess using rocks had its advantages. “You are completely useless. Abby should have left you for rat food.”

  I reached up to put my hand on Abby’s shoulder before we had a full-blown fight on our hands. I noticed Jon’s knife was still out. Jon barked out a laugh. “Some Gifted you turned out to be.”

  Jose gained his feet, though he swayed dangerously. “We’ve got to get to the building. There are bound to be more of them close by.”

  Abby put her arm around his waist and helped him as we made our way to the safety of the building. We could hear the rats now climbing through the wreckage of the vehicles to get to us. The weeds on the other side of the road rustled, the noise growing stronger by the second.

  “Over here,” a man yelled, waving to us.

  The doorway, flanked by the remains of two massive urns, stood twenty feet away. We charged for the ramp that ran up to the building’s landing. A rusted steel fence surrounded the landing, an older man dressed in a blue jumpsuit held the gate open, screaming for us to get in. Others stood inside, rifles pushed through the chain link, ready to open fire.

  Rats rampaged from all directions. Gunfire erupted, hitting the rats as they roared across the pavement. Abby threw Jose over her shoulder, and we ran for the door. One overly brave rat leapt at Jon. He flowed around the rodent, his knife slashing through its throat as he rolled passed the carcass. He didn’t even break stride, still arriving at the barricade first. I ran in closely followed by Abby with Jose yelling to be put down.

  The gate clanged shut. The men finished off the closest rats, which were promptly attacked by the others. Food was food when it came to rats.

  The older man ushered our group into the foyer before locking up the doors behind them. The foyer with a massive marble staircase was bigger than our house. I spun to take it all in. A huge blue circle with an eagle inlaid inside it dominated the view. Department of Commerce ran along the top of the circle. This place must have been magnificent before the war. Now everything stood dirty and in disrepair. Chips in the floor, scratches in the woodwork. This was not the Taj Mahal.

  “Never thought I’d see the mighty Grim Reaper carried in like a sack of rice,” the man said as Jose was lowered to the ground. The men with the rifles lined the walls, on guard for another attack.

  Jose rubbed his face with both hands. “Tenji, I don’t know what happened. I killed the rat, and everything went loco.”

  Tenji laughed. “Well, I doubt you ever killed an animal before. Must have knocked your socks off.”

  “At least that’s all they did,” I said. No one laughed. It had been one of those days.

  Tenji shot me a puzzled look before addressing Jose. “So what brings you home again? I thought you would be out for a few more months?”

  Jose shook his head. “Not now, Tenji, we can discuss business later.”

  “What is this place?” I said, still amazed at how big the foyer was. Some of the lights still worked, some flickered. A second story banister wrapped the upper floor. Bodies moved in the shadows up there, many of them at the rail. More joined them, strangely silent. I heard the scrape of metal on metal. I could sense people watching us.

  Tenji stepped over to me. “This was once where the government made rules on how people could do business. It is all very grand to impress the people who came here as to how important they all were.”

  “So the Underground uses it for a headquarters now?”

  “The Underground?” Tenji asked, obviously confused by my question. “Reaper, who are these people you have brought amongst us?”

  Jose had gotten up while we talked, and he stood next to Tenji. “These, mi amigo, are most of the missing students from Redemption,” he said, a smile creasing his face. “And they are going to make us mucho dinero when we sell them to the Reclaimers.”

  It took less than a second for all hell to break loose. Jon’s knife whistled out of its sheath, hitting the man across from him in the throat. Abby punched the closest man to her, the sound of breaking bones audible over the commotion. Both were dropped by arcs of energy coming from the second-floor overlook.

  I glanced up to see seven men with strange rifles pointing down. “Why?” I asked Jose. He smiled as Tenji leveled a chrome pistol at me. “It’s just business, Tommy.”

  Tenji fired the Taser pistol at me. The shock knocked the breath out of me. I fell to the floor, to lay by my fallen friends.

  Jose laughed. “Sweet dreams, niños.”

  29

  I hit the ground and lay still, feigning unconsciousness. I had absorbed the energy from the pistol shot, but they didn’t realize it.

  “Okay, Reaper,” Tenji said. “What is going on? Why are these kids thinking we are the Underground? I thought they were new recruits the way they fought for you.”

  Jose’s laugh was an ugly thing, I almost turned to see his expression. “I’ve been living with these brats since they broke their collars. The Protector is fuming mad they got away and is willing to pay through the nose to get them back.”

  “After he betrayed us, you are going to help him?” Tenji asked, his tone agitated. “We help him take down the do-gooders and then he imprisons us with the rest.”

  “Tenji, it’s all good. He made a solid business decision. We were competition, and he wanted to run the show. He knows we are here but hasn’t moved against us.”

  “But why turn these kids over to him?”

  “Money,” my former boxing coach said. I knew he had been a murderer and assassin, but he’d been more of a coach and mentor than any of those things to me. “Plain and simple. We bring him the kids, he gives us a lot of money and an island in the Pacific. We are out of sight, and he gets the rest of the world. Once he makes an example of these kids, no one will ever defy him again.”

  I stiffened. We were screwed, but Wendi and Marcel were safe. Jose didn’t have a clue where they were. I needed to find a way out and quick. Once the Protectorate had us, we’d be publicly executed or thrown into the Gauntlet.

  “
I don’t like it,” Tenji said.

  “You don’t have to. I run the Syndicate now, and we do things my way. Got it?”

  “Yes, Reaper. So are all three Gifted?”

  “The one who killed Campbell has a hunter-type Gift.” I heard a boot thump and a sickening crunch. “He can hit just about anything and is Olympic athlete level.”

  Tenji whistled in appreciation. I hadn’t known Jon’s Gift type, but that could be a useful piece of information for the future. If any of us had a future.

  I opened my eyes just enough to look through the lashes since Jose and Tenji stood behind me. I faced the staircase, so if I dropped them, I could get to the door. This might be the best chance I had, but I couldn’t leave Abby and Jon behind. I closed my eyes, thinking of an alternative plan.

  “The girl reminds me of Titan. She grows when she fights, but she starts morphing. I haven’t seen her let loose yet, so I’m still not sure.”

  “What about Mr. Twenty questions?”

  Even unconscious, I’m getting dogged. I hoped they moved me soon before the smell made me sneeze. The door swung open to the heavy thud of boots on the wood floor.

  “Qué haces?” Jose said sharply. “Leave them for rats.”

  “Sure thing, Boss.” The door reopened and slammed shut. What a prick! How could you leave your fallen to be eaten?

  “He is the one who broke them all loose. The kids said he let go with enough power he shorted their collars. He ended up evaporating two kids and killed Powell in the process.”

  “He killed Powell?” Tenji’s voice held a note of awe.

  I heard boots coming down the stairs, any chance of escape left with the reinforcements. I didn’t have enough power to take down a whole group of people. Even if I built up more energy, I couldn’t carry Abby and Jon. Plus the rats outside would have us for dinner, literally.

  “Yeah, but I think he burned out his Gift in the process. Not a flicker of energy since. He’s a warranty case, so he’s safe.” Jose flipped me onto my side. He yanked the watch out of my pocket, letting me roll face down.