Outlaws of Babylon

by Eugene W. Cundiff

  Hudson shook his head and ducked into an abandoned subway car. He motioned for Kurt to follow him. Kurt obliged, and the older man held small wrapped bundle out to the Preserve exile.

  "What's this?" Kurt took the bundle, opening the old cloth to reveal a stack of faded hardbound books. He turned confused eyes to the Morlock leader. "Textbooks?"

  "A little gift from the Conservers' stacks. Addie thought they may help, but she was too busy to make the delivery tonight. And tonight's the only sort of time we could act without rousing suspicions." Hudson shook his head. "But even that has limits, and the 'Birds have almost as many eyes as we do. You should get back topside, kiddo. We'll be in touch."

  Hudson tipped a phantom hat to Kurt, then headed through the rusted subway car in the gloom. He paused when he reached its doorway, turning to look back to the Preserve exile. "Oh hey, one more thing. Little advice for you, kid. Something an old friend down south once told me."

  "Yeah, what's that?"

  "Don't be afraid to live a little for yourself, once in a while."

  Kurt looked up from where his eyes had been skimming the titles of the books Hudson had given him. "What do you mean by -?"

  The question died on his tongue when the Preserve exile realized the Morlock leader had vanished. He sighed and shook his head.

  "One of my best friends can turn invisible at will. You'd think I'd be used to people just vanishing, by now." With another shake of his head, Kurt turned and headed back toward the surface.

  05

  Benjamin Talone drew a deep breath, struggling to steel his nerves. Beside him, Jonah McMahon scowled.

  "Get it together, Benny-boy. This is our chance to redeem our names."

  The dark-haired young Six nodded to his grizzled old partner. His expression was grim. "Yeah. After the mess with the demons..."

  Jonah spat on the cold ground, hefting his worn assault rifle. "Yeah, that lot. I'd welcome another shot at those bastards, but there's more sinners in this city, and some of them are even worse than the damned demons in the Zero. This here's a mission of mercy we're on tonight, kid. Everyone's defenses being down means this is the best chance we'll have." The older Six reached down to pluck the radio from his belt. He lifted to his chapped lips. "Samson, Joshua, do you copy? This is David. Is the trinity prepared?"

  The radio crackled with blasphemous loudness as both of the other teams reported in. Jonah nodded to Benny, his eyes cold and hard. He spoke into the radio again.

  "Commence purification. God be with us as we do His work. So shall it be!"

  "So shall it be!"

  "So shall it be!"

  The black-shirted Vet clipped the radio back onto his belt before looking over his shoulder to Benny. The young Six swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded to his commanding officer.

  "So shall it be!"

  Jonah nodded, satisfied by Benny's answer. He headed down the empty street, motioning for the younger man to follow him. Benny checked his pistol scurrying after the older Six with a fearful prayer on his lips.

  ◆◆◆

  Mory lead Ric through the door of Saint Joan's. The small chapel was lit by a multitude of flickering candles, and a rough table was set by the door bearing small round biscuits upon a tarnished silver platter. A number of costumed figures knelt before the altar offering their prayers, and others lit scavenged candles to add to the collection filling the worn metal shelves. Many of both groups carried themselves with weary-eyed wariness that marked them as Vets.

  "Lot of old soldiers here tonight."

  Mory nodded to Ric. "Saint Joan is the patron of soldiers."

  "Fair enough. Place looks better than the first time we visited, at least."

  "Thankfully. Go have a soul-cake, if you want? I know you're not really one for religion."

  Ric kissed Mory's pale forehead before nodding and moving over to the table. She smiled as she watched him go, then quietly moved to the front of the chapel. A rickety wooden box full of varying candles sat upon the front-most pew. Mory reached into it and gently plucked a thin white one. She carried the candle to the altar and lit it with the flame of the flickering gas lantern setting upon it. Mindful not to spill any wax onto the dusty carpet, the pale young woman carried the candle to one of the metal shelves and carefully pushed it down onto a waiting spike. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

  "O God, Who hast commanded us to honor our father and mother, look in the tenderness of Thy mercy upon the souls of my mother and forgive her of her sins, and grant unto me the joy of seeing her again in the glorious light of everlasting life. Through Christ our Lord, amen."

  "She would be proud of you, you know."

  Mory looked up and turned to face the speaker. Jeremiah Braddock stood behind her, his long white hair pulled back in a ponytail and his usual beard shorn away. He wore no mask, but his usual attire was replaced by a set of faded green fatigues that showed signs of hard use and frequent repairs. Mory quickly curtsied to the leader of the Irishmen, but the old man shook his head, reaching down to lift her back up.

  "None of that, not tonight lass. Tonight is not about me, or not about any of us yet breathing. Tonight, we are no one at all." Braddock sighed. "No, tonight is for them. I see your young man has no truck with anything but the refreshments?"

  Mory glanced over Braddock's shoulder, looking to where Ric stood leaned against a chipped stone wall. He waved with the hand not holding a soul-cake to his mouth, and Mory smiled to him before looking back to Braddock.

  "He's not one for praying, no. Not sure if he's lost anyone. He never talks about his family, but given he crossed the entire country to put them behind him, I've always guessed there might not be much love lost there."

  Braddock nodded, his expression weary. "Fair enough, lass. But as I said, and as I've said before, Deirdre McManus would be proud to see the woman you've become. She never ran from a fight, your mother. Even when she had the chance."

  Mory blinked. "What do you mean, 'when she had the chance?'?"

  Braddock shook his head, motioning toward the nearest pew. He limped over to it and eased his weary form to a seat. He patted the cushioned seat. Mory moved to sit beside him, and the old man sighed.

  "When the dusts hit, and the city died, most of those who could get out did. If they had the skills the Feds wanted or needed, they would sign on to work in the then-new Preserve on Staten Island. Many of my fellow men and women in blue took that option. So did many emergency workers, doctors, and the like. Your hotheaded friend Kurt's father took that route, as you know. But not Deirdre. She felt the way I did, you see. She would not abandon those who were not good enough to have a place in the Feds' glittering future, nor those who could not gather the means to flee the Hell this city became." Braddock shook his head. "Those were awful, awful days, lass. All the horrors I witnessed in Vietnam paled before them. The wars over scraps, the cancer, the rains and he floods and the blizzards. She faced it all, and even had the courage to bring children into that nightmare. It was her way of showing she still believed there was hope, I think."

  The old man rose to his feet.

  "And I think she was right. No, that's not right." He looked to Mory, smiling wearily. "When I look at you now, Morgan Whitechapel? When I look at you, I know she was right. Keep that faith of yours, lass. The world is cruel and cold and dark, and it will need that light of yours, before the end."

  Braddock hobbled away. Mory began to rise, but stopped when Ric slipped down to sit beside her, holding a soul-cake to her in offering.

  "So, what did our beloved leader want to talk about?"

  Mory smiled as she took the offered pastry. She rested her head on Ric's shoulder. "My mother and how I remind him of her."

  "Well, I can't say I know much on that score. Other than she had to be a real looker, given how often people say you look like her."

  "Flatterer."

  Ric grinned. "You want to head home, maybe find a party somewhere?"

  Mory
shook her head. "I'm happy right here."

  Ric wrapped an arm around her slim shoulder, pulling her close. He kissed her cheek and laid his head against the back of the pew. "Yeah. So am I."

  ◆◆◆

  Kurt ascended the stairs to the manic streets above, clutching tightly to the gifts Hudson had given him. The party had moved forward by the time he had spent in the subway tunnel, leaving Kurt facing only stragglers and those who had fallen victim to their own excesses. The garish lights of the revel were unnerving without the energy of music and a crowd, flickering madly across the dregs and derelicts of the night's wild festivities.

  "Those lights screw with you too?" The voice was female, rough and smoky, and it came from behind him. Kurt nodded as he tuned to face the speaker. The woman's tall, full-figured form was squeezed tightly into a nun's habit, and her grin was broad and bright against her dark-skinned, freckled face. Kurt's eyebrows raised, but he managed to nod.

  "Yeah, they kinda do, sister."

  The woman laughed, shaking her head. She roughly pulled away her habit's matching wimple, freeing a mass of tight, dark curls. "Halloween costume, pet. I'm Mad, by the way. Mad Mag."

  The young woman extended a hand to Kurt. The sharpened metal claws on her fingers gleamed in the flickering light, and Kurt looked first to the makeshift talons and then to their wearer.

  "Expecting trouble, Mad Mag?"

  Mad kept grinning, withdrawing her hand and making a show of examining her steel talons. "Always, pet. This is New York, Killer. All of us can't throw people around with our brains, you know?"

  "How do you know about -?"

  Mad laughed. "Seriously, Killer? What do you think people do here, when they're not blasted out of their heads or screwing each other in both senses of the word? People talk. You made quite the impression when you busted that Six's bat to kindling at the Exchange, eyes like fire and words full of brimstone."

  Kurt sighed. "Fair point, I guess. I'd just assumed Ric was getting all the buzz."

  "He's the surfer-boy who leads you all, right? I mean sure, he's handsome. And who doesn't dig a musician? But all the whispers about what he can do, what your friends can do? That's just talk. You've actually shown people real power. That gets people talking like nothing else, Killer."

  "Please, just 'Kurt'?"

  Mad grinned again. "'Kurt' it is. But yeah, you've gone off like an atom-bomb in this city. Even we poor country cousins from the Boroughs have heard the rumors about you. Is it true that you can fly? They stories say you can."

  The Preserve exile blinked, shaking his head, "Not that I'm aware of? I'm able to move things with my mind, shove and push and pull, but not fly."

  "You'd think flying would just mean moving yourself?"

  Kurt shook his head again. "Might tear my body apart like that. I'm not really good at being gentle with what I can do."

  Mad slid closer, leaning in and whispering seductively. "Some girls like it rough."

  Kurt coughed and stepped back. "I... yeah, so I've heard. Nice meeting you, Mad."

  He slipped past Mad and headed quickly toward the sounds of the ongoing celebrations. Mad grinned, watching him as he went.

  "Be seeing you, pet."

  ◆◆◆

  The air smelled of blood, sweat, and worse, and Benny gagged at the stench. Watching from behind the cover of a rusted-out ruin of a long-abandoned car, the young Six and his direct commander could see a single sentry stood outside the abandoned police precinct-house, a shotgun held in her hands. Jonah tugged on Benny's sleeve.

  "We need to take that Satan-sworn bitch out quietly, Benjamin. No guns."

  Benny nodded silently, and Jonah drew a black-bladed combat knife from his boot.

  "Move forward. Make sure she sees you, but don't move too close. Pretend you're drunk, just another sinful fool lost to this heathen night's debauchery."

  The young Six swallowed the knot in his throat, fighting down his fear at being used as a sacrificial lamb. He drew a deep breath before nodding to Jonah. "So shall it be, Brother Jonah."

  Benny slid from behind the car and began to stagger forward, hands held at his sides and a whispered prayer on his lips. He lurched out into the streets, moving toward the guard.

  "You there! Why're you here?" The grimy, leather-clad woman pointed her gun in Benny's direction, and Benny froze, holding his hands up. He forced his words to slur.

  "I's... I's just visitin' my folks. They's... they's buried out this way, yeah?"

  The guard glared at him, but she lowered her gun. "No one with you?"

  "Just... just me."

  The woman's gun raised again, leered at Benny as she did. "Get over here. You won't be alone long. Move it, into the building over there!"

  "What... why would I do that?"

  "Because I'll dust your ass if you don't. Move!"

  Benny swallowed. "Okay, okay, I'm... I'm goin'!"

  The young Six staggered toward the building. The guard drew closer, turning to follow him. She began to snarl a command at Benny, but her words were muffled as Jonah seized her from behind. The Vet knocked the woman's gun away with a practiced ease, then his free hand clamped over her mouth. The Queen's minion struggled, but she could not escape Jonah's grip. He kicked the back of her knee, driving her to the ground. Her scream was muffled by Jonah's thick leather glove.

  "God have mercy on you, whore of Satan."

  Jonah jerked the guard's head back and sliced his knife across her throat. She gurgled and gasped as her blood soaked the dirty pavement, and Jonah shoved her to the ground. There was no hesitation in the older Six, and his mercilessness sent a chill down Benny's spine.

  "His will be done." Jonah's cold eyes turned to Benny, and the young Six swallowed another lump from his throat.

  "So... so shall it be."

  Jonah's gaze narrowed at Benny's hesitation, but he said nothing of it. He lifted the radio from his belt.

  "Sentry down. Prepare to breach."

  The other Sixes radioed their affirmatives, and Jonah looked back to Benny. "Move out, Brother."

  Benny nodded. He moved toward the precinct house in silence, doing his best to hide the disquiet he felt.

  06

  The awful stench was nearly overpowering now, and only Jonah's cold eyes on his back kept Benny pushing forward into the building. Behind him, he could hear the footfalls of his brothers as they entered the precinct-house. He took some small comfort in hearing their retching. It let him know his hesitation was not simply a personal weakness on his part. He pushed forward in well-practiced quiet, his comrades equally silent. The Sixes moved into an open room filled with long-abandoned desks, and behind him the brothers of David and Joshua fanned out. Jonah murmured into his radio.

  "Be ready for anything, brothers. Radio silence. Over."

  As the group pushed into the room, they began to hear muffled sobs and quiet moans. Following the sounds, the group soon saw shuffling movement within the gloom of the holding cells. Benny looked over his shoulder to Jonah.

  "Prisoners, Brother Jonah."

  Jonah spat on the ground. "The Queen's tithe to Hell, no doubt. We'll see to them soon. Keep a look out for hostiles."

  "Yes, Brother Jonah."

  To Benny's left, one of the men of Samson stopped in his tracks. Benny was not certain of the young man's name, but he remembered he had been baptized alongside him.

  "David? David? God have mercy..."

  Jonah scowled. He moved toward the man, motioning for Benny to follow. "What is it, Wade? Have you lost your nerve already?"

  Wade brushed a hand across the thinning hair of his scalp. "No, no Brother Jonah. It's... it's not that. Look... there!"

  Jonah moved to stand beside Wade, and Benny followed. The odor of death brought tears to the young Six's eyes, but Benny was grateful for that. It helped blur the horrific sight before the group. In the light of flickering lanterns, the Sixes could see a great pile of torn clothing, and beside it lay a great stack of naked
corpses. They were young and old, male and female, but all bore a deep puncture in their necks. The junior member of Joshua turned to Jonah, his face ashen.

  "Brother Jonah... what is this?"

  It was not Jonah that answered. A young female voice called out from behind them. "It's called a trap, jackass."

  The Sixes turned to face the speaker. Her features were concealed by the long hooded cloak she wore. Jonah raised his gun. "A trap for you, whore."

  The woman laughed. "I am not the Whore, old man."

  The woman's eyes erupted with ghostly white light. The Sixes stepped back, guns swiftly readied.

  "A demon!"

  The woman laughed. The sickly light in her eyes grew brighter. "Demon? Oh, poor souls, no. I am no demon."

  The Sixes were distracted by the cloaked woman, and that distraction proved costly. The ghastly remains piled behind them began to twitch, and then to lurch up to their feet. Benny alone noticed the noise, and he jerked forward.

  "Brother Jonah, the bodies! Look out, all of you!"

  The other Sixes turned to face the threat, but Benny's warning came too late for the men of Joshua team. The animate corpses seized them, dragging them down into a mass of grasping, biting dead flesh. Wade and his partner fumbled for their weapons as they stumbled away from the carnage. Wade's eyes were wide with terror as he bellowed out to the group's leader.

  "Brother Jonah! We should retreat!"

  Jonah spat on the ground and brought up his assault rifle from where he wore slung across his shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he opened fire, and the roar of the automatic weapon was nearly deafening in the echoing confines of the ruined building. The chaos was made worse by the panicked screams of the jailed prisoners, their shouts drawing Benny's eyes. The hooded woman stood by their cell door. Her eyes still burned with infernal power, and in their glare Benny saw the gleam of her pistol pointing into the cells. Benny did not stop to consider his actions, nor take the time to bring his pistol to bear. He plowed forward and tackled the demon, slamming her into the rusting bars and sending her pistol clattering across the dirty floor. Behind him, Benny could hear the screams of Wade's partner as the corpses overtook him, piercing his ears even through the Hellish noise of Jonah's automatic.