Hell Cop

by David C. Burton

  I barely recognized Dimitri. Barely more than skin on bone, with the same burn marks as Cappy, the attack on Gitch had cost him. Hope—that old reviver—worked on him, though.

  His emaciated face lit up when he saw me.

  “Getter. Christos, man, where'd you come from?” he asked, voice a dry croak.

  “It's a long story.” I had a catch in my throat as I looked him. “God damn, man, I thought you were dead. We looked for you. You just disappeared.”

  “We?”

  “Christine came down, twice.”

  “She shouldn't have come. She can't handle it.” He noticed Brittany. “Who's that?”

  Brittany stood beside me. She regarded Dimitri with more horror than poor Gitch at our feet. “This is my new temporary partner, Brittany.” She liked that. “Part of the long story. We've got to get out of here, now. She's got a date with an angel.” She liked that, too.

  “How?” Dimitri and Cappy said together.

  “Damned if I know. There's another passage at the end of the corridor? Where's it go?”

  “It leads out to the Rivers. There're guards there.”

  Dimitri grasped my arm so lightly I hardly felt it. He'd been so strong the last time I saw him.

  “Getter, I can't go without Grace.”

  “Grace? What are you talking about? Cappy, give me a hand with him.”

  Cappy gritted his teeth against his pain, and we pulled Dimitri to his feet. He took a couple deep breaths and said, “I can't leave without her. I promised.”

  “Who the hell's Grace?”

  “His girlfriend,” Cappy informed me with a roll of his sunken, bloodshot eyes.

  “What?”

  “The soul he came to retrieve.”

  “What? That's crazy,” I whispered loudly. “We have to get out of here.”

  “No, wait, you don't understand,” Dimitri insisted.

  “Damn right.”

  “I love her. I'll die before I leave her.”

  “You might.”

  Cappy dragged Jimig into the cell. He took their small caliber flamepistols and handed one to me. Inside Gitch's vest he found a big old wicked looking knife with a forked point, a wavy edge on one side and coarse sawtooth edge on the other. He also found a pack of cigarettes with Satan's picture on it. He searched frantically through both the guards’ clothes, all the while mumbling about being in Hell and not being able to find a match.

  Determined to get Grace, Dimitri stood shakily at the door.

  “This way, Getter. She's in the Resurrection room. They put her where she had to watch me. I had to watch them torment her and was helpless to stop it.”

  The teeth-clenching grimness of his expression made it obvious that the physical pain was nothing next to the emotional pain he felt. Grace must be one Hell of a soul, I figured, to have such a powerful hold on Dimitri. I hoped she was what he thought she was.

  Driven by determination, I wasn't ready to say driven by love yet, Dimitri took off with a shambling run. Cappy, Brittany, and I had no choice but to follow.

  Dimitri led us past the guard room, empty now, and up the stairs. I had to help him up the last few steps. Cappy was running on fear and hate, I had a headache the size of Ticmuc's fist, and my mouth tasted like the dungeon smelled. Brittany was game, but she was still only a ten-year old soul. We were a Hell of a rescue party.

  Raised voices echoed through the halls. Dimitri pressed on to a thick wooden door.

  “Is this the Resurrection Chamber?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Where is she inside? Are there guards? If we sneak in, is there cover?”

  Dimitri wasn't listening. He reached for the latch. I gripped his bony arm, made him look at me. “I love you like a brother-in-law, man,” I said. “And I'll help you on this fool's errand. Nevertheless, know, if it comes down to it, Brittany is my first priority. And all that that implies. Get it?”

  “I know the Code,” he said. “Grace is my soul.”

  He raised the latch and swung open the door.

  The cacophonous music blasted my ears, doubling the size of my headache to the size of a Dinocat's ass. Dimitri went left and again, we had no choice but to follow.

  A narrow cage made of thick, rusty bars hung six feet off the floor. Inside, Grace sat with her knees drawn up, the cage not tall enough for her to stand. Rags barely covered her, blonde hair stuck to her sweat glistening face. Burn marks tattooed her body

  Nobody had noticed us yet: the Wizard conducted, the orchestra played, the scurrying bats licked and hustled the new soul-soldiers away. A few Lizardhead guards looked bored.

  I located the Rack, a stained stone slab with heavy leather restraints. Next to the slab, easy to identify in their white lab coats, three scientists conferred. Two were older human men, vaguely familiar. I only had a couple seconds, but I promised myself I would check the history books from World War II when I got back to life. The other had a thick body, with an insect head, a wasp of some kind, maybe.

  Dimitri had eyes only for Grace.

  “Grace,” he said, as if they were totally alone.

  She lifted her head from her knees and stared vacantly down at Dimitri.

  “Grace, I've come to get you. Like I said I would.”

  “Dimitri?” she said, barely audible over the music.

  “Yes,” he assured her, his face lighting up like a lovesick boy's at a chance smile from his beloved. “I'm taking you with me. We'll be together, forever.”

  “Oh, Dimitri, no. You're still alive. Escape while you can. Knowing you're safe, I can easily take whatever they do to me.”

  While the two lovebirds decided who was nobler, I followed the chain that held the cage to a hand winch against the wall and lowered the cage. Dimitri grabbed the lock and yanked it. Nothing happened. Gaining energy from his growing frustration, he shook it, rattled it, cursed it, to no avail.

  I pulled him away and told him to be quiet. He shook with fury.

  “I can't get it open,” he said. “Getter, open it. Please.”

  “Shut up, will you,” I hissed in his ear. “There's still a chance we can get out of here without a fight.”

  Grace reached a filthy hand through the bars and took his hand. Beneath the dirt and sweat and tangle of hair she was pretty, not that I had time to notice. From the way she calmed Dimitri, I thought the name Grace probably suited her. Beyond the cage, two bat attendants noticed us then decided not to notice us. But they told others, and I quickly began to feel their attention on us.

  Cappy came up to us and said, “Try this.”

  I took the key. At the same time one of the bored guards looked over. I couldn't remember the damned words to go with it. Then it didn't matter. The guard yelled. Another guard answered and started toward us. So much, once again, for stealth. The shit was going to hit the fan big time.

  Cappy took out the closest guard with a flameball to the chest. I got the second one.

  “To borrow an appropriate phrase, Let's rock and roll,” I said.

  “I'm with you, Getter,” Cappy said.

  “But Grace?” Dimitri pleaded.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “It doesn't matter now.”

  I drew my real gun and fired point blank at the lock. The door swung open, and Dimitri scrambled to get Grace out. The music stopped. In the sudden dead silence I said way too loud to Dimitri, “Can we get out of here now?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  But it wasn't going to be that easy.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The whole chamber took a deep breath. Time froze. The scientists stared curiously at us. The musicians gawked. The bat minions peered at us from behind the tanks, the twitching of their ears the only movement. The Wizard faced me, his long arms outstretched, whether presenting or pleading I didn't know. I felt him inside my head and began to think about how to break his chain.

  Time started up as guards burst through the door behind us. “Stay down, Brit,” I said, u
nnecessarily. Cappy and I fired together. The guards dove for cover, and I took the opportunity to grab up the flammers the first two guards wouldn't need anymore. I thrust one at Dimitri and one at Grace.

  “Don't let him die,” I said to her.

  The guards fired back and within a minute the chamber filled with smoke and balls-of-fire and screams. More guards arrived. We retreated along the wall, toward the Rack.

  Grace fought with no fear. After all, what did she have to lose? Hair flying, grunting with each shot, she shielded Dimitri and took out her share of guards while taking several hits which she ignored. Dimitri tried to hold his own, but love and hate can only carry a man so far when he's had the lifeforce sucked out of him. Brittany grabbed up a stray flamegun and added to our side's firepower.

  The scientists, bat attendants, and the orchestra fled to safety. Only the Wizard remained, following the action with a rapt calm. A new soul, abandoned by the bats, wandered into the crossfire and went up, screaming, in flames.

  We came up against the Rack. Over the smell of smoke and burning lizard flesh it had the distinctive reek of sweat and fear. I thought we might be able to escape through the door behind it.

  “Cappy, through that door. Help me with Dimitri.”

  He helped drag a stumbling Dimitri away from the Rack. Grace and Brittany covered our backs. Halfway to the door Cappy stopped.

  “Got something to do first,” he said.

  He took a few steps toward the Rack and shot it with flameballs till it roared with flame and the straps and wires crinkled and writhed into uselessness.

  “Now we can go,” he informed me.

  “Okay, come on—No, wait.” I sensed the Wizard's wordless warning in my head. “Get back!”

  The door to the stairway slammed open. Guards poured through. I emptied my flammer at them. Cappy was out of charge and searching for another gun while doing some close in damage with Gitch's knife. Grace and Brit fought a losing battle behind us. I threw the useless flamegun at the guards still piling through the door. I used some of my own precious ammunition to take them out. Grace screamed as her left arm went up in flames. Dimitri staggered to help.

  Soldiers appeared, thick Pan-like legs supporting solid naturally armored bodies. Their slick demon faces were not amused. Whether two-, three- or four-limbed, they were all heavily armed. Five of them backed Cappy up against the still burning Rack. A small flameball from a soldier on the balcony smacked my shoulder, spinning me to my knees on the other side of the Rack.

  They were Mephisto's personal troops. They didn't kill us outright, just waited silently, so he had to be in the Fort. We were done then, at Mephisto's questionable mercy—Unless?

  The soldiers knew what my gun could do, so they kept their distance. I had four shells left. One for each of us Lifers, and one for Mephisto just to make a point. Or?

  I looked up at the Wizard, fifteen feet away. The light from the flames beside me didn't penetrate the depths of the hood, yet I felt the Wizard's concentration on me.

  Yes, I agreed, to an unspoken thought.

  I checked the gun. Four rounds, more than enough.

  “Getter,” Cappy called through the fire. “Thanks for the try, man. You gave me hope, and down here you can't ask for more than that. I'll say good things about you wherever I end up.”

  A lieutenant demon with one slash on each cheek and an intelligent look to him that I didn't trust, stepped out of the crowd. He leveled his tiny black bean eyes at me.

  Dimitri spoke then, nearly inaudible even in the silence. His head lay on Grace's lap. She stroked it tenderly with her one good hand.

  “Getter, my brother” he said. “Tell Christine to get a life and stop clinging to you. Thank's for giving me what I wanted. I'll be with Grace, forever. Thank you.”

  I had my doubts that Mephisto would just let them walk off into the sunset. Once they were souls he really had control over them. Besides—.

  “Don't count your eternities before their time, Dimitri,” I said, keeping my eyes on the too smart Lieutenant. I rose up, gun hanging from my right hand. The officer stepped toward me, one spare, clawed hand held out.

  “The gun,” he said, with a proper British accent. “You may be spared your life. You need not die uselessly.”

  He said the right words and even said them with the right note of sympathy, but I'd been in Hell enough to recognize in his eyes the superior glint of a liar and a cheat, and a demon that enjoys it.

  That would make it easier to do what I was going to do. I tensed, ready. A commotion on the other side of the chamber drew every being's attention.

  A voice called out, “Step aside!”

  A deeper, angrier, more familiar voice cut through the excited chatter.

  “Where is he?” the voice demanded.

  The soldiers stepped aside and let Mephisto through. The head demon towered over all in the chamber except the Wizard.

  “Getter, you have caused me a lot of trouble, and worse yet,” he swept a long muscled arm around the chamber, “you have delayed the creation of my Hell Liberation Army.”

  “Well, my job here is done then,” I said. “If you had a sunset, I'd ride into it.” Nothing like flippancy to mask high anxiety.

  “Ah, Getter, you are worthy. I will make my best soldiers from your lifeforce. Be pleased. You beheaded my daughter. I had more imaginative arrangements in store for you.” His mouth flowed into an illusion of a self-satisfied grin. “Lieutenant, prepare him. I am sure the Wizard is eager to get back to his work. Is that not so, Regulus Zar?”

  “He's not speaking to you, Mephisto,” I said.

  “Oh, he isn't? He speaks to you, I suppose?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “And what does he say to you, Hell Cop Getter?”

  “He says, ‘Dimitri, Cappy, trust the Wizard!'”

  I swiveled a half turn, shot the Lieutenant in the chest, swiveled back and shot Mephisto. He landed on his ass. At least I could take that to eternity with me. Before any of the soldiers or guards could recover, I raced up to the Wizard, held the muzzle of the gun to the lock on the chain around his leg, and fired. The lock disintegrated. The Wizard was free.

  My head filled with joy, relief, then anger. In an instant the chamber filled with the anticipation and dread that proceeds a storm. A stinking wind blew past me as the Wizard, Regulus Zar, drew breath. Suddenly a shriek sliced into my brain like a scalpel. I clapped hands over my ears and rolled to the ground. The soldiers did the same, faces contorted with silent screams.

  Through watery eyes, I watched Regulus Zar step off the pedestal. With his spindly fingers circling, but not touching, he lifted the top off the pedestal. An eerie green glow came from inside. He stepped back, arms warding off the light. I felt his surge of fear in my chest, then disgust, then anger again.

  Mephisto lay on the floor. He wasn't dead, permanently, and I didn't know how long till he became active again. Some of the soldiers struggled to their feet. Another scream from the Wizard sent them to their knees. Regulus Zar raised his arms, gathered his strength, and intoned a chant. From inside the pedestal a pentagonal sphere rose up, its glare too bright to look at directly. The sphere rose twenty, thirty feet in the air, then, with a flick of the Wizard's hands, flew across the chamber and crashed with a shower of sparks into the right side polished column.

  “NO!” yelled Mephisto, as the sphere dropped into the pit surrounding the column.

  Regulus Zar ignored him. Lightning cracked between the fixed spheres, thick powerful bolts, out of control. With each movement of his hands the energy raced along the wires, arcing, spitting. The tanks exploded in a burst of white light, as Regulus Zar pointed at them. The troughs carrying bones exploded, spraying the demons with shattered bones like a hail of darts. The empty sacs of flesh shriveled and burst into flame. The blood troughs broke, spilled boiling blood.

  Mephisto, in a rage, charged the destroying Wizard. With a contemptuous glance Regulus Zar pointed at his cap
tor. A lightning bolt arced from both spheres and struck Mephisto to the ground.

  The idea of NOW came into my head. GO NOW. Sounded like a damn good idea to me. I rounded up Brittany, Cappy, Dimitri, Grace, and a couple flameguns and got them out the door. Before I slammed it shut, I saw Regulus Zar float ten feet in the air then disappear in a brilliant flash that left spots dancing in my eyes.

  “Up,” I told the group. “Maybe we can hide in the mountains.”

  “No,” Cappy said. “Pragons roost up there.”

  “Well, shit. Down it is then.”

  Pragons of Dern were the black dragons of the Skyhook family. Solid, ugly, with inadequate hooks, they were fierce and unsubtle creatures that would just as soon eat their riders as rip a soul to pieces. Walking through the Pragon's nest was to be avoided.

  We made it back to the dungeon and to the descending tunnel. We caught our breath while deciding what to do.

  “You know where the tunnel goes?” I asked Cappy.

  “The beach, between Bones and Blood.”

  “Any traps?”

  “Not that I know of. But I was pretty out of it. There're guards at the end.”

  “Great.”

  “And caves, I think.”

  Yells and footsteps rushed down the corridor toward us. We rushed down the tunnel.

  Occasional guttering torches lit the way. Through several broad curves the rough-hewn tunnel narrowed to four feet or less as the floor turned sandy. The depth of the black sand increased, and so did my apprehension. I kept a flamegun handy and carefully scanned the tunnel for clues to what made me so nervous.

  I rounded a tight corner and the sand rose to a mound, as if something was buried there. I skidded to a stop. The others piled up behind me.

  “Cappy,” I whispered. “Do you remember this?”

  He studied the mound and shook his head. Dimitri leaned against the wall and breathed deeply, his forehead wrinkled with thought.

  “I don't know, man. Like I said, I was out of it,” Cappy said. “Something though.” He put his palms to the side of his head, as if to squeeze the memories out.