“Sorry we had to be rough with your brother, Mory. “
Mory looked to Jo, shaking her head. “It's the only way he’ll learn, it seems. No matter what else I try he just won’t get behind ‘good of the group’.”
“Do you remember your mother being pregnant with him?”
Mory blinked at the other woman's question. “Why?”
“Well, I was going to suggest he was a bastard care of your dad? “
The pale young woman smiled softly, shaking her head. “Oh he’s a bastard all right. Just not one by proper meaning of the word.”
“You’re really sure? He acts like he’s some Preserver’s spoiled brat, what with it being all about him and all.” Noticing the wide-eyed stares of Mory and T.J., Jo raised her hands to the wasters. “What? I am one! Well okay, I was one as of recently. But still, I’m allowed!”
Both nodded, but their faces remained grave. Jo palmed her forehead.
“Ah crap, Dollface. Once again, the foot-eating contest champion? This chick.”
Mory shook her head. “It’s all right. How’s prep going?”
“We’ll have it all ready by sundown. It's a lot of stuff to manage, but a few of us can manage a kitchen, and a few of us are fast and eager learners with magic fingers.”
T.J. blushed sharply. “She’s teachin’ me how to understand and make letters.”
“Yeah, he saw me scribbling notes and asked what I was doing. It won’t sound all Preserver-egotistic to say that felt like a tragedy, will it?”
Mory smiled, shaking her head again. “Nah. Had I known he wanted to learn I could’ve shown him, but I reckon you’d do better by that. Better schooling and all.”
Jo seemed unsure how to answer, and Mory shook her head before giving the other woman a smile of reassurance.
“Hey, I said it, not you. Anyway, it’s good you’re learning T.”
The younger teen nodded. Jo took his arm, leading him toward an empty table. “Come on, we need to eat and then get back to work on the big dinner. If we hurry, we may have time for another reading lesson before the festivities kick off.”
Mory smiled as the pair took a seat together, watching them as she finished her meal. When she finished, she slipped off to see what help she could offer with the preparations.
◆◆◆
The Zero buzzed with manic activity as the sun began to set. The central plaza hosted a large, sturdy table groaning beneath the weight of its spread, and salvaged lights were strung from makeshift posts of twisted metal, twinkling in the drifts of still-falling snow. The Boss of the Zero stood in the eye of the storm, attempting to direct it all. Mory approached from behind him, taking Ric's hand in her own.
“Deep breaths, love.”
Mory smiled as she spoke, and her touch seemed to do wonders for the Californian's frayed nerves. The tension drained from Ric, and his eyes turned to meet Mory's.
“Here’s hoping this works out to smooth the edges. I know these two are all you really have out here.”
Mory raised an eyebrow, and Ric shook his head.
“Besides us, I mean to say.”
“Of course.” Mory kissed Ric gently, hooking her arm into his. She pulled him toward the gates. “They’ll be here soon. We should be waiting.”
Ric nodded, letting her take the lead as they strolled through the falling snow. “It’s been a hell of a time, these last months. Hasn’t it?”
“You can say that again.”
“I could, but that gag is done to death.”
Mory giggled, elbowing him gently and shaking her head. “You’re right though. Father going off the deep end, my own gifts emerging, having to run from home because of that...”
“Meeting a dashing blond rock god Prince Charming who swept you off your feet?”
“That too.” Mory smiled again, kissing his cheek. The pair continued toward the gate in silence, but when they were nearly there Mory paused. She shook her head and tugged Ric's arm, stopping the Californian as well. "Do you ever wonder, though? Why us, why we can do this sort of thing?”
Ric shook his head. “I always assumed it was because we are so very pretty.”
Mory smiled briefly, but her expression swiftly returned to seriousness. “Well, we are, at that. But I’m serious love.”
“Far too often, and far more than you should have to be." Ric brushed a bit of snow from his hair, shaking his head. "And that’s why I don’t think about it. Some say it’s the radiation from the bombs, which is comic book nonsense. Others think it's maybe some strain of mutation, caused in response to all the rads, biotoxins, and worse the big Dust Up caused. Industrial pollution from before the War, maybe? Honestly, I don't think it really matters, myself. We can do what we can, and that’s all we can know for sure.”
“Fair point.”
“I thought so.”
Mory drew Ric closer, and the last few minutes of their walk were spent in affectionate quiet. The gates were slowly creaking open by the time the pair arrived, allowing the entrance of a large, battered van and a surprisingly well-maintained black luxury car.
“Stand up straight and look presentable.”
“Any other impossible labors for my lady?”
“Shush, Auntie’s driving Big Jerry, looks like.”
The High King's car parked and the Sheriff emerged from the vehicle. She beckoned Mory forward.
“Come give a hand with this, little one? I have a little holiday gift for you in the car.”
Mory looked a bit confused as she obliged, moving toward the vehicle hastily. The large van parked inside the gates, and its driver exited. The Irishman headed for the rear of his vehicle as Mory reached Braddock's car. She was leaning in to hug the older woman when she stopped, her eyes widening at something Ric could not see.
“Oh, God! Oh God Auntie no! Ric! Ric, watch out! Get to Ronnie, you have to get him to safety before -!”
Mory’s shocked outburst was cut off when the Sheriff shoved her into the car and slammed the door shut behind her. Aces slid into the car, barely pausing to shut her own door before gunning the car's ignition. The vehicle roared to life, turning sharply and speeding past the van and out the gates. Irish enforcers began to pour from the van as soon as the car was gone, and soon the air was filled with the chatter of gunfire.
25
“I know it's been a few years, but I don’t remember Contact involving an explicit orgy in the last production I saw. Or the striptease being so authentic during Out Tonight.”
The voluptuous young woman curled against Jen giggled and nipped at the punk’s neck.
“In the character’s own words, 'it’s a living'.”
Jen laughed, and slamming back her drink. “No day like today, yeah?”
“Or no night like tonight.”
“I like how you think, beautiful.”
The woman's dark eyes gleamed, and her voice grew smoky. “Only how I think?”
“That your legs go for miles and you have a balcony I could do Shakespeare off of are up there, too.”
“You’re not too shabby either, babe. Certainly not like the usual girls a sister finds in this town.”
Jen slid her hand down the dark-haired performer's hip, resting it on the girl's thigh. “Probably because I’m not from here, sav?”
“Lucky you. This place is a hellhole.” The young actress shook her head. “But well, where else would I go, honestly? At least here I just take my clothes off and fake it for an audience now and again. Lot of other girls in this town have to get a little more hands-on and realistic in their love scenes if they want to earn their ducats."
Jen shook her head, giving the girl’s leg a squeeze. “Well, where would you go, if you could?”
Jen's date did not hesitate a moment, her answer coming with the speed and ease of long consideration. “I’d go to California, to Hollywood. Just imagine it, gorgeous: Catalina Freeman, movie star! No more acting in soft-core reimaginings off Broadway, no more cold, no more crime, an
d no more gangs with their little feudal kingdoms. Maybe I could even get enough money and recognition banked to make it to the Promised Land.”
“Where’s that?”
Catalina looked at Jen strangely, shaking her head. “What do you mean, ‘where’s that’? I mean the Preserves! No more disorder, real security, decent food for a change instead of whatever the gangs grow, or steal from Preserver cargo trucks, or trade for with the runners who smuggle things in and out to sell for drugs at Market. To be able to sleep at night and not be afraid of waking up dead or sold to the Queen’s skin traders.
Noticing the look on Jen's face and the distance in her eyes, the dusky woman cupped the punk’s cheek in concern.
“Something wrong, babe?”
Jen slowly shook her head, murmuring indistinctly.
“What was that, babe?”
Jen smiled weakly, looking to Catalina with haggard eyes. “Greener pastures.”
“I don’t understand?”
The punk shook her head before kissing Catalina hotly. The desperation in the kiss was obvious, Jen's desire to lose herself in carnal escape blatant. Catalina pulled away gently, her chocolate eyes filled with concern as she leaned in to kiss Jen’s collarbone.
“Whatever it is that's eating you, babe? Just let it go for tonight. Come on upstairs and let’s live a little. After all, we could end up like those rebels in Irish territory tomorrow.”
Jen blinked, pushing Catalina away. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, guess you wouldn’t know about it, not being from here. A few weeks back some new guy, about our age, if you can believe it? He took over the Zero from the Irishmen. And those bible-thumping Sixth Day lunatics were already pissed at him and his buddies too. Not sure why on that score.”
“Who can say with that sort?”
“Yeah, honestly. Well, the brother of the guy playing Mark? He works for the Sheriff of the Market. He was here last night, hitting on us after the show like his sort always does, drunk out of his head and running his mouth all big and proud. He was talking about how tonight they were being invited in to a dinner or something with the rebel leaders, some sort of apology maybe? Honestly, I don’t really know. I just try to keep my head down around the big gangs, yeah? Well anyway, they were going to use that opportunity to go all token whores on them, and help smooth relations with the Sixth Day after they threw them out of the Market for breaking the truce.”
“Token whores?”
Catalina shook her head. “I think that’s what that one Oldtimer Preserver who tried to run a school called it? Token Whores. You know, where you trick someone in with a fake offering of peace?”
“A... wait, a Trojan horse?”
“That’s it! Yeah, a Trojan horse. So yeah, could be us tomorrow like it’s them ton-“
Catalina yelped as Jen pushed out from under her and bolted from their shared seat, rushing for the door.
“Wait, what’s going on?”
Jen spared no time answering. She made a mad dash to the car, dove in and gunned the ignition. The vehicle rumbled to life then roared back down the streets of the city toward the Zero, Jen hoping that by some Christmas miracle she would not be too late.
◆◆◆
Ric cursed viciously as Mory was shoved into the car, but his well-honed survival instincts kicked as the first of the armed men appeared from the van. His eyes flashed violet and he faded from sight, swiftly moving to a safe distance from his old position to minimize his risk of catching a stray lucky shot by the Irishmen. Every fiber of his heart screamed at him to launch himself after the car, but his head noted the amount of firepower between it and him, and the fact that Mory was currently out harm’s way. Mory knew how to take care of herself, and right now a band of murderous mobsters were firing on the people he had promised to protect. Screams and gunfire had begun to sound all around him, and the snow was growing stained with red of innocents whose only crime had had been seeking asylum in this Sanctuary. Ric fought down the fury that was rising in his gut, rushing for the gatehouse.
"Close the gates! Don't let any more of them inside!"
Ric's heart sank when he arrived, for he could see his warning was too late. More armed invaders were storming through the gate by the time he reached it, showing the depths of the Sheriff's betrayal with the black shirts they wore and bloodied religious icons they wielded alongside their crude weapons and scavenged firearms. Ric realized that his current plan of action was too late, and he quickly turned back toward the camp's interior. He had to rally his own people against the attack, and despite his loathing for the little brat he needed to ensure Ronnie was kept from the Sixes. Choking down the bile in his throat, Ric forced his head back into the cold logic of the situation. He moved swift and unseen toward the central plaza, watching in despair as the home he had built was turned into a blood-drenched warzone.
26
“Auntie, why are you doing this?”
“To honor a promise I made, long ago, little one.”
Mory struggled vainly with the locks of the back seat doors. “What promise!? To who?”
The Sheriff’s voice was as calm and level despite Mory’s own heated tone. “To your mother. I promised her I’d keep you safe.”
“By kidnapping me for Father and killing my friends?”
“By protecting you from him and saving you from those ‘friends.’”
“What do you mean?”
Aces sighed, shaking her head. Her eyes stayed on the road ahead. “Your father is going to be arriving at that camp soon enough, Morgan. For your sake, I'm ensuring you wouldn’t be found there, and I've taken steps to ensure he won’t be looking for you any longer.”
“What do you...? Auntie what did you -“Mory’s eyes widened. “What about Ronnie?”
“Combat triage, child. Even the most dedicated soldier has to admit to a lost cause.”
Mory’s face grew outraged, and she slammed her palms into the steel mesh of the cage so hard they began to bleed. “A lost cause?”
The Sheriff sighed, shaking her head and letting her normal stoicism slip away. Her voice grew soft and consoling. “He wants to be just like his father, Morgan. No amount of suffering and anguish on your part is going to change that, and neither is forcing him to stew in confinement against his will. You and your mother, two of a kind. You can’t save everyone, little one.”
“But he’s -“
“He's made up his mind, Morgan. You’re not your brother’s keeper.”
Mory gritted her teeth, clutching the cage’s mesh tighter in her grip. Aces only shook her head, still not turning to face her goddaughter.
“Remember what I said about lost causes, little one? I’m saving you from more than just that one.”
“What are you talking about?”
Aces sighed again, and her tone softened further. “You need a better life than being a moll to some hot-headed outsider, Morgan. Especially one with delusions of heroism, and of saving the city. Outlaws are romantic, assuredly. But as a rule, their stories don't end well.”
“Outlaws? Auntie, you broke the laws by demanding the guns! After passing on them!”
“Laws only work in a world with order, and order is dangerously thin on the ground in this city already, Morgan. The last thing it needs is some young iconoclast disrupting the status quo.”
“And that status quo is worth killing dozens of people to protect?”
The gentleness of the Sheriff’s voice was gone in an instant. “Yes.”
Mory’s face grew pale, and her voice hardened. “You’re a monster.”
“Monsters don’t save people, child.”
“Why just me then? You say Ronnie’s a waste and you intend to kill Ric to save your damned precious ‘law and order,’ but what about Kurt? “
“He is another lost cause, and his father is still alive to keep his own house in order. He could have intervened, had he truly wanted to. No, Morgan, I could only save you.”
�
�You aren’t saving me!”
Mory pound her hands against the cage, but Aces kept driving.
“Yes I am, child. You may hate me for this now, but someday you'll believe me. I’ve pulled a few strings, with the old unit and some Market traders. They’ll see you safe to Appalachia in the south. It’s not perfect, but at least there you won’t be found by your father’s men, or be carted off to some Federal science facility torture gulag. You can start over with money, and a home. Maybe a good man and a family someday, someone who’ll finally appreciate you.”
Moy scowled at Aces' back. “I have all of that but the money already, and I never asked for money!”
“You only thought you did, Morgan. I know it’s the closest thing you’ve had to family since your mother passed away, little one, and I'm sorry that part of that is my fault. I know it all seemed so perfect, but little one your would-be Prince Charming couldn’t even keep his best friend by his side when times got rough. What hope does he have of keeping a single outfit unified and profitable enough to survive in this city, much less an entire gang? A house divided cannot stand, and the walls were already spreading apart, to be blown away in the first powerful storm. A storm that in his youthful bravado 'Boss Lee' has already called down.
The softness returned to the Sheriff's voice, and she finally glanced over her shoulder to her sullen goddaughter.
“I’m sorry this is the only way, child.”
Mory took a deep, burdened breath, closing her eyes. The bleeding abrasions on her palms mended themselves. “So am I, Auntie. So am I.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and Mory's eyes blazed with pale white light. The Sheriff choked and sputtered, and her eyes widened as her muscles seized. Her foot slammed down upon the brakes of the vehicle of its own volition, her body rebelling against her. Her limbs enslaved to Mory's will, Aces started the vehicle and turned it back toward the Zero.
“If it's any consolation at all, I’m only stealing away your freedom for a brief while, instead of a lifetime as you would have seen done to me.
Outlaws of Babylon Page 12
