Outlaws of Babylon

by Eugene W. Cundiff

  "Benjamin! Stop the demon!" Jonah's voice was calm and composed, contrasting sharply with Wade's mad wailing. Benny nodded, then swiftly slammed the hooded woman into the bars again. She laughed and spat blood, but the infernal light in her eyes flickered.

  "Oh, so tough..." The demon struggled free and thrust her knee roughly into Benny's groin. The low blow sent him reeling, and his enemy exploited the opening his agony gave her. The light left her eyes as she scurried away into the gloom of the abandoned building. Behind him, the sounds of conflict stopped. Benny rose to his feet, bracing himself against the bars of the cell. Jonah strode over to stand beside him.

  "Good work, Benjamin."

  Benny forced the pain from his voice as best he could, shaking his head. "Thank... thank you, Brother. But I... I fear the demon... escaped."

  Jonah shook his head. "You still broke her dark power over those poor dead souls."

  Wade moved to join them, his face pale and his eyes wild. "I... you hear stories about the demons, but..."

  Jonah nodded, looking to Wade. "Brother, gather the arms of our fallen, and help Brother Benjamin out of the building. It must be cleansed."

  Benny straightened, looking to Jonah. "What are we going to do with their prisoners, Brother?"

  Jonah turned his icy gaze toward the huddled, terrified wretches in the cell. He shook his head and raised his rifle. "Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius."

  The prisoners screamed and ducked low against the far wall. Benny laid a shaking hand on Jonah's gun.

  "But... but Brother Jonah, we came here to save these people!"

  Jonah's cold eyes locked with Benny's. "And we have. We have spared them the horrors of the Whore-Queen's hospitality, and now grant them the Lord's mercy and an end to their suffering."

  "But..."

  The aged Six sighed. "You are a good man, Benjamin, and an innocent soul. In better days, those would be assets. But these are the times that try men's souls. This is Armageddon. These sad wretches may well be tainted by the demon's magic. We have seen it before. We are the soldiers of God, Benjamin, and a soldier obeys his orders. The taint of the demons must be eradicated. So speaks God our Father, through the blessed tongue of his messenger Reverend Goodpaster. The Lord commands, and we obey. So shall it be."

  Benny turned his eyes to the ragged souls in the cell. He saw the terror in their eyes, and he saw the emptiness in Jonah's own as he looked away. "I... Brother Jonah, I..."

  Jonah shook his head. "You're in shock. Wade, get him out of here."

  "Yes, Brother Jonah." Wade moved from where he had been gathering up the fallen Sixes' weapons, taking Benny tightly by the arm. "Come, Brother. This is God's will, and it is not our place to question it. So shall it be."

  Benny did not resist as Wade dragged him toward the exit. Behind him, he heard the prisoners scream before they were silenced by the chatter of Jonah's gunfire. Feeling Benny growing slack in his grasp, Wade hugged the young man's shoulders reassuringly.

  "The Lord shall know his own, and honor those who sacrifice in His name."

  Benny managed a weak nod to his fellow Six. "So...so shall it be."

  ◆◆◆

  The leaders of the Zero were gathered in the central plaza, taking an early morning breakfast. Kurt had carried Jen through the gates shortly before dawn. The punk had been grinning broadly at the time, but now she was plainly feeling the first stirrings of a hangover.

  "Hey, Irish? You think you could... y'know?"

  Mory looked up from the musty book she had been reading. "Cure your hangover?"

  Jen nodded, and Mory considered the notion.

  "I... possibly? I've never tried that before. I'd guess it would take speeding up your body's own process, like when I mend someone?"

  The pale young woman extended a hand toward Jen, but the punk shook her head.

  "That's another thing, Irish. You ever try to fix someone without touchin' 'em? None of the rest of us mindfreaks need to get touchy-feely."

  "I... never really thought to try, being honest."

  Ric looked up from his bowl of gruel. "It might be worth trying, Ivory. Never know when someone might get hurt while out of your reach."

  "Fair point. All right, let's see..."

  Mory rose from her seat, letting the floral-print bed-sheet slip from her shoulders. She raised a hand toward Jen and closed her eyes in concentration. Light blossomed behind her eyelids as she directed her power toward the punk. Jen gasped and staggered back, her skin flushed.

  "Easier ways... to get me... hot and bothered, Irish."The punk grabbed the edge of the table. "I need water."

  Jen rose on shaky legs. Kurt moved to assist her, but she waved him away.

  "I'm good, Killer."

  The punk staggered away in silence, and Ric shook his head.

  "She always has to play the hard-ass. I'd hoped a night out would help her chill. Still, good work sweet Ivory."

  Mory blushed, shaking her head. "Wasn't anything too special, love. But these books? These are really something. Medical books, engineering, governance..."

  "Everything the modern post-apocalyptic leader could need in a quest to rebuild society, eh?"

  The pale young woman nodded. "Sure enough. It's also reassuring to know that we have friends on the Council, friends who want to see us succeed here."

  Ric nodded, rising to his feet and moving to wrap an arm around Mory's slim waist. "Yeah. Good to have someone willing to offer support, even if it was on the sly. But unlike some of us, I need sleep."

  The Californian kissed Moy's cheek, and the pale woman blushed.

  "Well, I suppose it has been a few days since I had a rest. Kurt?"

  Kurt shook his head. "I'm good. You two go sleep. I'm not there yet. Besides, I figure as wild as the city was last night, people will be too laid up to cause us much trouble for a month at least."

  "Fair enough, Killer. See you in a month."

  Ric chuckled, pulling Mory close and leading her toward their shared accommodations.

  07

  Heavy snowfall had blown down upon the fallen city for two days, carried on bitter December winds. Mory sat curled against Ric, beside a warming bonfire in the Zero's central plaza.

  “The Oldtimers said there came one like this the year the War ended.”

  “Yeah?”

  Mory nodded to Ric, glancing up into the sky. “It was a miserable, Hellish mess to live through, to hear Father Book tell it. Even back when, before...”

  “Back when this was a living city and not a ruin.”

  Mory nodded again, and Ric pulled her a little closer. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “We’ll make through. We’ve got good grain stockpiles, and plenty of salvage for burning. We may even be able to start insulating the shelters soon. Besides, we’re valuable now sweet Ivory. Sav?”

  She smiled softly at that. “Sav. Still, best be ready for the worst.”

  The Californian chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been here better part of six months now, my wild Irish rose. I’ve come to that conclusion myself.” They both shared a quiet laugh at that, before Ric’s eyes turned back to the fire Mory patted his thigh.

  “We have faith in you, love. All of us. Or, well…”

  “Ronnie doesn’t count.” Ric quipped. Mory sighed quietly, nodding.

  “I’m not sure what to do with him. We can’t just let him go loose from here, given the Sixes and given for all his bluster the little would-be criminal can’t even keep himself fed. But he fights every attempt to get him fit in here…”

  “And you’d probably hate me if we just had him put in a little cage somewhere?”

  Mory shook her head, a look of weary amusement on her face. “That honestly depends on how much a snot he’s being any given day.” She slumped down against Ric. “I only wanted to keep him safe. He never really was that fond of me, but now... he idolizes Father, and believes every damned lie the Sixes preach…”

  “Are
you your brother’s keeper?”

  “I... try to be. I try to keep him from the fall he seems so insistent on taking.”

  “Perhaps he has to suffer for the fall before he realizes the truth.”

  “Maybe, but I hate to think that, Ric. It’d be admitting I’d failed him as surely as I failed Father.”

  Ric kissed her softly, shaking his head. “You did not fail either of them, Ivory. They chose their roads. You can lead a fool to water, but you can’t make him think.”

  “So we’re back to the cage again?”

  The Californian gave a chuckle before his manner grew serious. “You've done all you can for a brat who does not remotely deserve such a wonderful woman for a sister. One who actively refuses to heed you." Ric shook his head. "As bullheaded as Dollface is, even she will give credit to good advice and concern when it's given. Your brother? Yeah, not so much. He acts too much like a Preserve brat, being honest.”

  “Like you were once?”

  Ric shook of his head. “Nah, I was a good kid. Quiet. Didn’t cause any trouble.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Yeah, but I was Dollface’s keeper and tag-along. Damned by association, there. But one day I woke up. Realized the whole damned thing was a lie. I saw them trying to hide the real world behind the curtain. I got angry. Started burning with the fires of a kid with a cause. Loud music, social protest and all. Next thing I know it’s a couple years down the road and I finally stepped on more jackbooted toes than Mom or Pops could smoothe over." Ric shook his head. "With Dollface’s tastes going against the lovely little far-right paradise the Remnant lives by to appease its ultracon citizens, we both decided to say screw it. We took off. You know the rest. I've been trying to save the world ever since, even if the odd backwad or cynic calls me at a fool or an iconoclast.” He grinned. “And some of ‘em even know what iconoclast actually means.”

  “Then they’re ahead of me on that.”

  Ric laughed, then stole another kiss. He gave his girlfriend a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll see through, winter blizzard and bratty younger brother and all, Ivory. Promise you.”

  “Make a girl a promise, better be sure you can keep it.”

  “I’m pretty sure about this. Good feeling about it.”

  “Is that a fact now, Mister Lee?”

  Ric gave a rakish grin as he leaned his head in close. “Bare and plain, ma’am. Bare and plain.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Damn it, I’ve never had to so much as look at this much snow in my life! And that includes passing through two damned mountain ranges on the way here!” Jennifer Motosuwa's voice was deeply unamused, and the wintry weather had left her literally steaming as she regarded her companions. “How do you loony Nooyawkers live with this Hell-pissed weather?”

  Kurt and Jo shook their heads and shrugged. That only worsened Jen’s mood.

  “I mean, honestly! It’s enough to make me almost miss Cali. Or even Vegas, wretched hive of freaks and crooks it is these days be damned.”

  “Vegas, or California?” Kurt asked, smiling. Jen’s gaze turned to him, her expression murderous.

  “Pick one, wiseass.”

  “Honestly, I know for fact I’m the wrong one to ask here. Both of us are from a Preserve like you, Jen. Heating, insulation, snowplows, all that. Mory or T.J. would probably be the better ones to ask...”

  Jen glowered at Jo, then turned her gaze up to the sky. She unleashed a stream of profanities in Japanese.

  “I bet that sounded a lot higher-cultured than it really was.” Kurt grinned, and the punk sighed, giving him one of her own.

  “Didn’t know you spoke Japanese, Killer.”

  “Don’t have to, not to get that much. I’m a New Yorker after all. Put a bunch of dispossessed and disregarded folk with a history of taking it on the chin in one big powder keg of a city. 'Pissed off’ is sorta our universal language.”

  “Isn't it just?” The voice from behind them, catching the three by surprise. They turned swiftly to its source as she emerged from the falling snow. Her heavy boots clomped and crunched as she drew near.

  “Sheriff. Anything we can help with?”

  The tall Hispanic woman shook her head, casting tired eyes over the camp. “Braddock asked me out here to see how the fortifications and provisions were holding up with this storm. Check your sitch, check in on your recently-minted Boss and check his plans for dealing with it if this is a rough one.”

  “Think it's going to be a rough one, then?”

  “Little one, in my years I’ve learned one thing holds true above all else in this city.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Be ready for the worst possible scenario at every given point in time, and assume unless otherwise evidenced that the world is out to make you its personal bitch for a cheap laugh.”

  “Good advice.”

  Aces nodded to Jen. “I tend to find it to be, child. Is Boss Lee able to speak now?”

  “Last I checked, yeah.”

  The Sheriff nodded, slipping past them into the camp.

  08

  Ric and Mory had retreated to their shared shelter by the time the Sheriff found them. Aces paused at the shack's threshold. She rapped loudly on its walls.

  "If you are not too busy, Mister Lee, I would have a word with you."

  She heard rustling inside the modest structure, followed by the Californian's answer.

  "Of course, Sheriff. Mi casa es su casa."

  The tall Vet slipped inside. The leader of Sanctuary was lounging on a pile of salvaged cushions with Mory, the pair swathed in ragged blankets. Aces gave the couple a sidelong look. “I’d normally ask if I was interruptin’ somethin’ here, but I know better given the pair involved.”

  “Why’s that?” Ric asked, his voice amused. Aces ticked off two points on her fingers.

  “For one, I know Morgan Whitechapel is too good a girl to be doing anything unladylike and improper before she’s a respectably wedded woman. And for two –“The Sheriff smiled thinly. “If you weren’t respecting that? Were you making a move on my goddaughter? I’d be forced to dust you, surfer boy.”

  Ric’s laughed, but the stony expression on the older woman’s face quickly sobered him. “Not joking then? Fair enough, believe me when I say my intentions toward our Miss Whitechapel are strictly honorable and gentlemanly." He rose from the makeshift bedding, moving to stand before the Sheriff. "Now, to what do we owe the presence of our kind landlord’s strong right hand? Not to rush you off or anything, but I suspect you’re busy and won’t be so rude as to delay you more than strictly necessary.”

  Aces nodded to the Californian. “I must say, that’s a pleasant change of pace from the standard. In short, this storm’s caused a minor incident at one of the storehouses. Unless we see to the shortfall the damage has caused, we’re likely to have people starving on Irish streets.”

  Mory shook her head, looking to Ric with her eyes pleading. “Surely we can help make up the difference from what we laid back at our first harvest?”

  Ric pondered her question, grimly. “It’d be tight, unless we used our seed crop too. But if we did that we’d not have enough to plant next season. Damn it! Can’t just have chummers starving to death on the holidays, though. Well any day would be bad enough for that, but especially the holidays.” He let out a long sigh, looking to the Sheriff. "We can help. As much as Dollface is going to bitch about it, since we can, we will. Just tell me where we need to get a pickup ready.”

  Aces shook her head. “Reckon I should have been more clear. If you can help with the slack that way it’d be appreciated, but I came here to ask you to get your band together and help us do the impossible.”

  “What flavor of impossible are we talking here?”

  The Sheriff took a deep breath, then pulled out an aging electronic tablet from her coat. She turned it on and tapped on its screen until the display flickered to life. She held it up to the pair, showing them the image of a map. A route was marked
on it in a flashing red line. “We've had word that an emergency aid convoy is headed toward the Preserve ferry.”

  Mory blinked, shaking her head. “I don’t know who’s crazier, Auntie.”

  “And what do you mean by that, little one?”

  “You for planning to hijack a Preserve convoy, or them for giving you the chance. Why would they be trying to get it in by land?”

  Aces chuckled. She tilted her gaze upward. “Weather’s not giving them much choice, child. Trying for an airdrop in this weather would be suicide. Desperation makes people stupid.”

  “It sounds like it, given this whole hijacking a Preserve convoy plan.” Mory shook her head again. She glanced to Ric, who was grinning like a madman. "Richard Lee, you cannot think this is a good idea!"

  The Californian kept grinning. “You have to admit love, robbin’ from the rich to give to the poor during the holidays? It does have a certain narrative flair!”

  “It’s also has a good chance of getting you shot.”

  “All the better for you to patch me up and nurse my hurts away.”

  “Or to bury you.” Mory's sarcasm did a poor job of hiding, hiding her worry.

  “Bah humbug, you sweet and sexy Scrooge. Have a little faith in your boyfriend. After all, it is sort of hard to shoot an invisible man!”

  “Not if you have enough guns to fire in his general direction.”

  Ric blinked. “Ivory, sometimes, just sometimes mind you? Sometimes you scare me.”

  “Not enough to keep you from what you’re agreeing to do, apparently. Even if it’s necessary." Mory sighed, wearily. "It makes me wonder, if this how Mother felt watching Father head off on to the next mission. I won't tell you not to do this, Ric. I know you too well. But I also know how well-guarded a ground convoy will be. I'm not sure I’d call it a suicide mission, but..."

  “More a ‘lack of self-preservation’ mission, then?”