Man of Steele

by Alex P. Berg

  Rodgers grabbed the bit of rope that protruded behind me. “Got you, Daggers.”

  “Pull!” I said.

  I pushed with my legs and yanked with my arms. With Rodgers’ muscles working in tandem with my own, we drew the rope up, two to three feet at a time. The cries for help neared, and within twenty seconds of work, the top of the mayor’s head appeared.

  “I’ve got the rope,” I told Rodgers. “Pull him over the edge.”

  Rodgers obliged. He grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged. With a grunt, the mayor flopped over the side, tied and bound to a heavy chair, his clothes bloodied, his face bruised, but still very much alive.

  His skin was gray and his entire body shook. He mumbled the same thing over and over. “Gods. Oh gods. Oh gods.”

  Suddenly Shay was at my side, long knife in hand. How she’d managed to secure it in the wake of the wind elemental’s death throes I’d never know, but she went to work on the knots keeping the mayor in place.

  “It’s alright now, sir,” she said. “It’s going to be okay. We’re police.”

  The knife sliced through the ropes, and the mayor fell to the concrete, barely putting his hands out in time to soften the fall. His eyes were full moons. “Oh gods, I… Thank you. Thank you…” He started to sob.

  I didn’t think any less of him for it. I might’ve cried myself if not for the adrenaline coursing through my body, creating a greater buzz than any espresso ever could’ve.

  Shay tossed the knife to the side and wrapped me in a hug. I felt her warm breath on my neck, and her voice sounded soft in my ear. “Jake. I was so worried. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay. Are you?”

  Her chin dug into my clavicle as she nodded. “I’m okay. I love you, Jake.”

  “I love you, too, Shay.”

  We sat there for a long moment, clutching each other, enjoying the sound of each other’s breath and the slow patter of the dying rain around us. I counted the beats of Shay’s heart, focused on them, felt them slow over time. Rodgers collapsed to the ground beside us, but he didn’t say anything. I imagine if his wife, Allison, were here, he would’ve reacted in the same way.

  “Nice work, by the way,” I said to Steele. “Where’d you find the rope?”

  “A maintenance closet, by the top of the lift,” she said. “I think Markeville might’ve left it there. There were more supplies than I would’ve expected.”

  “I hope he did leave it there,” I said. “You know, given how I lectured him about situational irony down below.”

  Shay smiled. “You never quit, do you?”

  “I don’t plan on it.” I smiled back. “Thank you for saving my life. Again.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me,” she said. “You have, in fact. It’s kind of what we do now, I guess.”

  “Still pretty ballsy, though. How’d you know you’d be able to get close enough to Markeville to cuff him?”

  “I didn’t. But I had to try…despite objections to the contrary.”

  Rodgers looked over. “Come on, now. You have to admit, that was totally crazy. I still can’t believe the rope held.”

  I reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, at least she had a plan.”

  He sneered. “Don’t give me any of your lip, either. I had a plan. To shoot Markeville with a crossbow. Turned out pretty well, didn’t it?”

  “Eventually,” said Steele.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Eventually?”

  “I may have fired half a dozen bolts into the wind before Shay decided to try the rope,” said Rodgers. “I guess the wind elemental finally got distracted enough at the end for me to get a clean shot. Good thing I didn’t give up, eh?”

  “More than a good thing,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “A great thing.”

  “Daggers! Steele! Rodgers!”

  The Captain’s voice cut across the lingering sounds of the storm. She walked from the rooftop door, helping Quinto beside her. A makeshift tourniquet fashioned out of a bed sheet had been wrapped around his shoulder, and another around his leg. He limped as he walked. Apparently he’d taken a slice to the leg, too.

  Rodgers and I got to our feet and took the big guy off the Captain’s hands. “Quinto? How you doing? You going to make it?”

  He winced and nodded. “I won’t be taking part in intramural scrummage games anytime soon, but I’ll live.”

  Rodgers shot his partner a smile. “Hell of an engagement present, huh?”

  “The present will be having Cairny there to take care of me,” he said. “I can’t think anything better.”

  “You mean other than not getting shot and stabbed in the first place, right?” I said.

  He snorted. “Yeah. That.”

  The Captain helped the mayor to his feet, trying to reassure him with a soothing tone. “It’s alright, Mayor Greenburg. We’ve got everything under control.”

  I glanced toward the skies, wondering if that were true. The winds and rain had slowed, and the clouds seemed to be thinning, but the elemental hadn’t been defeated, only chased off. I hoped it would be enough.

  As if on cue, the universe answered me. The clouds at the horizon parted. Not much. Just a smidgen. But enough for a trickle of purplish-pinkish light to creep over the horizon.

  As I’ve said before, I’m not a religious man. More spiritual than anything else. But I took the vista as one that was heaven sent, and beyond that, as a sign.

  Namely, as a sign that I could finally get some sleep.

  “Come on, Detectives,” said the Captain as she led the mayor toward the door. “We’re not done yet. Help me get the wounded back to the main floor, and then we’ll need to make sure everyone in this building is still okay.”

  I sighed. The story of my life...

  42

  I stood at the top of the steps in front of city hall, dressed in the official blue policeman’s uniform that I never, ever wore. Until this morning, I hadn’t touched it since I’d been promoted to detective. It was a miracle I still fit into it given how much weight I’d gained since then. Luckily for me, I’d lost it all under Shay’s supervision.

  She stood beside me, dressed in her own official blue duds. A crowd milled before us at the base of the steps, a collection of service members, first responders, journalists, city officials, their families, and a nice group of bystanders as well. To our right stood a podium, centered on the stairs a few steps below us. It remained empty for now.

  The sun shone down upon us. A bead of sweat formed at my temple. I lifted a hand to wipe it away before I realized I’d picked the wrong hand.

  I grumbled. “I hate this cast. I can’t wait to get it off. It itches so much.”

  “Get used to it,” said Shay. “You’ve got another two weeks. And you should be counting your lucky stars it was a clean break. Could’ve been much worse.”

  “That bite was anything but clean,” I said. “You never got to see the basilisk. It smelled like a dead weasel.”

  “I said the break was clean,” said Shay. “You’re being obtuse.”

  “Not to mention a baby,” Quinto huffed from behind.

  I turned to look at him. He stood there next to Rodgers, his arm in a sling and a crutch under one armpit. Both he and Rodgers were also outfitted in their barely used official uniforms.

  “Couldn’t you have loomed over someone else?” I said. “Having you right behind me is cutting back on the empathy I’m getting over my hand.”

  “What a shame.” Rodgers nodded to the side. The other injured officers who’d aided us during the raid of the Freemont Plaza building stood beside us. One of them had Quinto doubled up on number of crutches.

  “Point taken,” I said.

  I glanced at the podium again. It was still empty. I sucked on my lips and shifted my weight between the balls of my feet.

  “Why are you nervous?” asked Shay.

  I tucked my good hand into my pocket
reflexively. “Why aren’t you, is the better question. You actually like ceremonies?”

  “Relax, will you?” She squeezed my arm. “We’re all in the same boat. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  Just as I was about to make a joke about prostate exams, I heard a rumble among the crowd. I looked to the side and saw the Chief of Police descending the steps, the commendations on his blue uniform sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun. A purple bruise marred the right side of his face, but otherwise he looked as tough and grizzled as ever.

  He stepped to the podium to generous applause. He lifted a hand, beckoning for silence, but it took a good twenty seconds for the crowds to acquiesce. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Ladies and gentlemen; officers and detectives; lieutenants and captains of the New Welwic Police Department; members of our city’s fire and emergency medical response teams; our armed forces; members of the city council; Mayor Greenburg, and all of your friends and families and colleagues, thank you for presence.

  “One week ago today, our city faced off against evils both unnatural and also quite human in their essence. All of you are aware of at least one manifestation of these evils. The cyclone which struck our city on the night of the twenty-seventh was swift, potent, and deadly, and made all the more so by its unexpected arrival. Only thanks to the timely efforts of our police officers, firefighters, medical first responders, and members of our national guard were we, as a city, collectively able to minimize the loss of life that would otherwise have materialized from such a deadly storm.

  “Sadly, however, the storm was not without its victims, nor were the forces responsible for its sudden manifestation. Today, we join one another here to honor the memory and mourn the loss of those individuals who made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our great city.

  “For Officers Mason Wayne and Celina Rodithas, their day began like any other. A warm meal, well wishes to their families, and off to work. Little did they know a cyclone would hit the city that night, bringing with it powerful lightning strikes that would raze over a dozen homes and businesses to the ground. But Wayne and Rodithas were officers of the law. They knew that from the moment they put their uniforms on until the moment they removed them, their duty was to the city. To protect others from harm. Wayne and Rodithas did just that, saving eight citizens from a burning three-story dwelling before paying the ultimate price when said building collapsed. Today, we mourn and honor their sacrifice.

  “Officers Wallace Dunbar, Mario Chelios, and Lucretia Djorkert also answered the call of duty. When their fellow servicemen and women called upon them for aid, they came without question. They braved the fierce winds and driving rains, joining their fellow officers and detectives in the pursuit of the villains who attacked the city through both conventional and magical means, fully aware of the danger involved. When their fellow officers were trapped, cut off by terrorists with murderous intent, they fought back, sacrificing themselves to save their fellow man. Without their efforts, even more of our friends and colleagues would be dead, and our city less safe. We mourn their sacrifice as well. If you would please honor their memory with a moment of silence.”

  I bowed my head in respect, as did those around me. Silence reigned over the hall’s steps, broken only by the steady hum of the city.

  “Thank you,” continued the chief. “But we do not assemble here today merely to mourn those we have lost. We also join here in celebration, to honor those still living among us whose quick thinking, sacrifice, determination, and bravery saved countless lives and helped protect our city from future threats.

  “First among them: Of the Old Town Precinct, Officers Dedrick Watley, Julia Navarre, and Filverel Falynn. Along with their fallen compatriots, these brave officers stepped forth when faced with the call of duty. Risking danger to life and limb, they helped quash a violent insurrection, and their actions at One Freemont Plaza aided in the elimination of a savage terrorist. For this, they will be awarded medals of exceptional merit. Officers? Please step forth.”

  The three officers stepped or hobbled to the podium. The crowd cheered and clapped as the captain of the Old Town Precinct stepped forward to bestow each of them with their decorations. As the cheers subsided, they returned to their posts.

  “Next,” said the chief. “From the Fifth Street Precinct. For their tenacious pursuit of their fellow officers in the gang-infested war zone that was the King’s Theater, for their enduring bravery in the face of armed opponents at One Freemont Plaza, and for their pivotal role in the elimination of the terrorist who sought to place our fine city under his thumb, it is my great pleasure to present Detectives Gordon Rodgers and Folton Quinto the prestigious Police Combat Cross. Please come forth, Detectives.”

  Rodgers and Quinto shuffled past us to even greater applause. I caught Cairny’s beaming face in the crowd as Captain Knox stepped to the podium. The Captain shook each of the detective’s hands before draping a medal over their necks, a brilliant silver eight-pointed cross with golden trim.

  Rodgers and Quinto took their positions behind us as the Captain continued his speech. “Also from the Fifth Street Precinct, a detective who has distinguished herself spectacularly in her first year of service, Shay Steele. For tenacity in the face of her kidnappers, for quick thinking and courage in the subduing of a dangerous escaped convict, and for exceptional bravery in the face of enemies both mortal and supernatural, it is my distinct honor to present her with the Department’s Medal of Valor. Detective?”

  The chief looked back, and Shay stepped forth to thunderous applause. She dipped her head, and Captain Knox placed a six-pointed golden star over her neck. The Captain shook her hand, and the chief did the same, leaning over to whisper something into her ear. She nodded her head before returning to stand next to me.

  My arm trembled even before the Captain continued. “And finally, another member of the Fifth Street Precinct’s finest. A twelve year member of the homicide division. A true champion of justice, Detective Jake Daggers. During the thirty-six hour window that encompassed the arrival of last week’s life-threatening cyclone and the terrorist and criminal acts that preceded it, this brave officer survived multiple attacks on his life. He doggedly pursued his partner’s kidnappers, defeating countless numbers of their ranks with his intellect, creativity, and physical skill. He single-handedly eliminated a creature most of us would’ve cowered before, helpless and afraid. Atop a fifteen story building, he braved supernatural winds and rains to help subdue the terrorist behind that night’s attacks. Because of his quick reflexes, he saved Mayor Greenburg from certain death. And along with his partner, Detective Steele, he personally saved the lives of me and my entire family. It is with the utmost gratitude and respect which I present to him the department’s highest accolade, the Medal of Honor. I can think of no one more deserving of it. Detective?”

  With wobbly legs, I stepped forward. The crowd erupted in applause, clapping and cheering with even more force than they had for Steele, if that was possible. I dipped my head as Captain Knox placed the golden, twelve-pointed star over my neck, leaning into my ear as she shook my hand. “Congratulations, Detective. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” My legs felt a little stronger, and my heart beat a little steadier.

  The chief shook my hand, too, leaning in as well. “My sincerest gratitude, Detective. I wouldn’t be here if not for the actions of you and your partner. This city owes you an immeasurable debt, as do I.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The cheers followed me as I returned to my post. The chief beckoned for silence once again with a raised hand. “Thank you. Finally, I’d like to take this opportunity to once again thank all of the officers and detectives behind me, all of our fallen brothers in arms, and every member of the fine New Welwic Police Department. Because of your actions, your bravery, and your relentless pursuit of what is right and true, this city remains a paragon of liberty, prosperity, and creation. Thank you, each and e
very one, for your service, and may the gods bless us all.”

  Once again, the crowd erupted in applause, and this time I joined them in cheer.

  43

  The crowd slowly started to disperse, but only the non-police contingent. Rather than leave, those officers, detectives, and police spouses who’d milled at the foot of city hall surged onto the steps with the rest of us. I’d assumed they mostly wanted to glad-hand the chief, and although there was a fair amount of that, Rodgers, Quinto, Steele, and I weren’t exempted from the action. Dozens upon dozens of officers and detectives, most of whom I’d never met, came up to give one or all of us their appreciation and thanks. Even the captains of the Old Town and Grant Street precincts came by, congratulating us and telling us that if we ever needed anything to stop by and ask. I lost track of how many hands patted me on the back and how many times I repeated the words “Thank you.”

  At some point among the jubilation, Cairny snuck through the crowd and wrapped her beau in a huge hug. She beamed as she looked into Quinto’s eyes, and the big lug gave her as warm a look back. They kissed, their faces framed against a backdrop of blue.

  I felt a touch on my arm. “They sure are cute, aren’t they?”

  I smiled at Shay. “They are. Which is no small feat given how awkward they are.”

  Shay snorted. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Of their happiness?” I said. “A little. Not as much as I would’ve been, once upon a time. I’m pretty happy with where I am now.”

  “Only pretty happy?”

  I was saved from answering that by the appearance of a set of jowls surrounded by wrinkles and granite. “Detective Daggers. Detective Steele.”

  “Captain Armstrong,” I said, shaking his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “Though it would’ve been nice if someone had sent official word. I swear, once you retire it’s like you fall off the face of the earth.”

  “Budget cuts, probably,” I said. “Can’t pay for the postage.”