by KJ Harlow
Suddenly, the environment was collapsing around us again. The picturesque, Norwegian countryside was no more. Unpacking in its place was a gray, brick-clad facility with lots of halls and doors. I was in a room with three or four plain doors. Did Tor just put me into a human-sized rat maze? Tor’s voice rang out through an intercom.
“You have given me no choice. If you aren’t going to shoot, I’m going to have to shoot you.” The intercom clicked off. Was this some sort of sick joke? What sort of training was this? Didn’t he get enough of a kick out of shooting me the first time?
The room became deadly silent. Fluorescent lights flickered ominously. I felt too exposed. Clutching my gun with both hands, I moved backward until my back touched the wall behind me. I then side-stepped until I was backed into a corner. If Tor wanted to play this stupid game, I would wait here until he came through one of those doors. Then I would shoot the bastard in the head. I was used to performing experiments, not being the subject of experiments.
I waited in the corner of the room for about fifteen minutes, my hands directing my gun amongst the four doors as I waiting for one to be flung open. That’s when I heard it. The door knob on the door closest to my right started moving down as someone from the other side wanted to come into my room.
I stepped soundlessly away from the corner to get a better angle of Tor when he came in. I raised my gun to where his head would be. The door knob twisted all the way and the door was pushed open. It creaked open a few inches. I stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to come through, breathing quickly.
“Get out here, Tor! What, are you scared?” There was silence. I could see shadows flickering on the wall inside the new room as if beckoning me to come inside. Keeping my gun steady, I stepped slowly towards the door. Was this a trap? I came up to the wall next to the door. Slowly, I peered around the corner. The room was empty. It had a plain, wooden table at the end with a candle sitting in a candlestick holder. In front of it was a piece of paper.
This room only had one door. Tor couldn’t sneak up on me if I closed it. I slowly pushed the door shut, turning the knob so it wouldn’t click shut. Now, the only source of light was the candle. I edged closer to the note on the table. I pointed my gun at it as if expecting Tor to somehow jump out. There was some writing on the note, but it was scrawled messily. I dropped my gun arm out of the way and leaned in to read the note in the light of the flickering candle.
Rule Number 4.
Wait, that’s all it said? I was confused. Was this just a bogus room? Was I now locked inside this room? I reached out a hand tentatively and turned the paper around.
If it feels like a trap, it probably is one.
Several things happened at the same time. The candle suddenly went out. A powerful arm grabbed me around my neck from behind. I was blanketed in darkness and being immobilized. I couldn’t bring my gun around to shoot the attacker. Then I remembered the last time someone had attacked me from behind.
I brought my foot down hard on my assailant’s foot. He yelped and released his grip. Still in complete darkness, I fired in the general direction of the attacker. I heard some bullets thud into fabric and flesh.
“Stop firing!” The attacker howled. Wait, that voice. It wasn’t Tor’s. That sounded like Greg! It was still pitch black. I cursed myself under my breath that I had fallen into such an easy. I kicked out lightly until I came into contact with a body that was still.
“Greg is that you? I’m so sorry! When did you come into The Room?” I felt up the side of his body until I found his arm. Swiftly, I moved from his shoulder to his hand. “Are you OK?” He groaned as he tried to get up.
I helped Greg get his footing. He was a bit wobbly and grabbed onto my shoulders, his breath labored. How many of my shots did I get him with exactly? I felt bad, so I let him keep his hands there while he composed himself.
The fluorescent lights switched on abruptly. Instinctively, I screwed my eyes shut. When I reopened them, I jumped back in shock, letting him fall forwards. It wasn’t Greg at all. It was Mortimer. I raised my gun, pointing it squarely at his head. What the hell was he doing here? Mortimer was on his knees. He slowly raised his head and smiled, grotesque and menacing. I’d gotten him in the eye with the training gun. It was swollen shut. My mind was racing. What did I do now? I had to get out of here and warn the other Deliverers.
As soon as I finished that thought, The Room started folding back in on itself, Mortimer’s ragged figure enveloped in with it. I stood in the middle of The Room, blinking stupidly.
“You didn’t shoot him. Why did you hesitate?” Tor sternly asked from behind me.
I spun around and without thinking, fired a dozen rounds at Tor. He stood perfectly still as all the bullets missed but one. He batted that one away casually, deflecting it so that it clattered to the floor.
If he was trying to make me hate him, it was working. He looked at me with inscrutable eyes, as if appraising me. He then sharply turned on his heel and walked to the other side of the room. He placed a hand on the wall and a door appeared.
“Training is over. Death’s summoned us,” he looked back over his shoulder, adding, “he’s found the Tormented’s next target.”
Eight
I followed Tor sullenly back to the control room, glaring as hard as I could into his broad, muscular back. How dare he trap me in a room like that and create a fake Mortimer. If he was half the man that he thought he was, he would have put himself in that dark room in there with me.
I stopped walking momentarily, realizing what I’d said. What on earth was happening to me? Noticing my footsteps had stopped, Tor turned around, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I openly glared up at him then continued walking.
Eventually, the staircase ended. I put my palm casually on the glass door and waited a moment as it disappeared in front of me. If I thought the control room was abuzz with activity when I saw it the first time, it was nothing compared to what was happening right now. Workers were tapping furiously away at their monitors. Some were sprinting from one end of the room to the other, narrowly avoiding a collision. All the monitors at the front of the room had converged and were showing what seemed to be live footage of one person: Mortimer Wildblood.
I had thrust the training gun back to Tor before we came up. My hand twitched involuntarily as I stared up at the grainy footage of the man who had turned me.
“Well if it isn’t Rose and Tor!” Death said, gliding across the room to meet us. The other five Deliverers looked in our direction. “Training went well I hope?” I grunted noncommittally. Tor looked at Death with his poker face. Looking between us with a amused expression, he continued. “Great to hear. It looks like we have some new information about the Tormented’s movements.” He looked up at the giant screen on the wall behind him.
Yep, that was definitely him alright. I’d recognize that trench coat from anywhere. It was hard to see his face, but his body language seemed stiff as if something was irritating him. He was pointing in different directions and barking orders. I tried to get a closer look at the people that he was bossing around. I couldn’t see them clearly but I knew they weren’t regular people. They were Conflicted.
“There’s good news and there’s bad news, which do you want to hear first?” Death asked, addressing the seven of us.
“Death…” Tracy complained, rolling her eyes.
“OK, OK,” Death looked apologetic. He cleared his throat. “It looks like the Tormented are already a step ahead of us.”
He nodded at a worker who was waiting for his command. The worker turned to his screen and made the camera zoom in at a spot behind Mortimer. Sitting there was someone with his hands and legs bound to the chair. There was a bag over his head as if he was a terrorist hostage.
“That’s…” I started, before trailing off. “Is that Riggs?” Death looked at me, his expression suddenly grim. “We still aren’t sure yet. We have been tracking his movements. He hasn’t been back to work the n
ight that you died.”
I looked up at Death, perplexed. That doesn’t make any sense. How could he possibly have known about what happened that night? Was he warned by someone? If so, who? I looked back up at the screen. The hostage had their head down. Right at that moment, a Conflicted bumped into the hostage and knocked him over. He writhed on the floor. Mortimer snapped his head back and before I had time to blink had planted his gun on the Conflicted’s head and shot him. I gasped out loud.
The Conflicted slumped to the ground and twitched for a moment. Black ashes started appearing around their corpse. Seconds later, it was gone. As I watched Mortimer right the hostage, who was straining against his bindings, Death came up to me.
“Don’t worry. Even if a Conflicted soul is Rid by an Ombre Gun, they do still come through to the waiting room. By shooting their own creation, the Tormented are just making your job easier,” Death said with a faint smile.
“Death,” Walter’s calm voice broke the tension in the room. “Are you sure it’s wise to send Rose back so soon? She only got here recently. Shouldn’t she have time to get used to her Deliverer’s state?” I smiled warmly at my friend, who winked in my direction.
“Being back in the Overworld is the best way for Rose to adapt to the Deliverer’s state. No matter how long you train in The Room, it’s nothing compared to being back in your own body, subject to worldly forces again,” Death declared.
Back in my own body. But I was in my own body, all this time… wasn’t I? I guess I was dead, but besides the lack of a heart, blood flow and the ability to feel warm or cold, I still felt… alive. I guess that the soul always played a bigger part in life than I thought it did.
“Rose, you’re going to go on a mission. You’ll be keeping an eye on Mortimer’s hideout and making sure that the coast is clear for the more experienced Deliverers to go in. They’re going to reclaim the hostage,” he looked at me, seeing if I understood so far. “You should be prepared to shoot your first Conflicted.”
I breathed in. I knew it had to happen sooner or later. I thought back to the training I did with Tor earlier. I threw a sideways glance at him, as he looked up at the big screen. There was no expression on his face. He didn’t notice me. I looked back at Death.
“OK. Who am I going with?” I queried.
“This is a relatively low-risk mission, but I’ll still be pairing you up with a more experienced Deliverer. You’ll be with Silas.” I turned around to find the elusive gunman, who looked returned my acknowledgment with half a smile.
“Going in to retrieve the hostage, I’ll have Greg and Tor,” Greg seemed excited by the prospect of being paired up with the hulking Deliverer. He kept shifting his weight between his feet while shooting furtive glances at Tor. Tor’s steely gaze was trained on the fuzzy image of Mortimer on the big screen, not noticing Greg in the slightest bit.
Silas and Tor stood at opposite ends of the group. Walter, Agatha, Greg, Tracy and I were sandwiched in the middle. Was I sensing some residual animosity from the earlier encounter with Death?
Death looked at the worker, who deftly tapped away at his keyboard again and brought up a new screen. This looked like a map of a maze-like facility with paths leading off to dead ends. Only one ended up going towards the center. It was there I presumed they would hold the hostage. My mind flashed back to the earlier training session with Tor and the room with the doors. I glanced over to Tor, who was now staring intently at Death.
“This is a map of the facility. It’s not 100% accurate, but thanks to Silas,” Death paused, nodding to Silas on his right, “we have been able to tap into surveillance cameras located around the hospital. We’ve monitored the Conflicteds’ movements for long enough to establish a pattern. We will strike at noon. That’s when the guard changes over in the west wing,” Death pointed to the left side of the map, “and the entrance is left unguarded for about 27 seconds.”
I watched Death trace the path that we were meant to take. It seemed straightforward - Almost too straightforward.
If it feels like a trap, it probably is one.
I looked over to Silas again, who was watching the screen intently. He caught my glance and gave me a slight smile. I pressed my lips together and nodded at him. I hadn’t really spoken to Silas yet. All I knew was that he was good with a gun. Was he someone that could be trusted?
I looked back at the screen. Death had already traced his way to the center of the map. “In the heart of the fortress, we are exposed. We don’t know what’s in there. But that’s why we have Tor going in.” He looked at Greg. “Greg, if you stay by Tor’s side and do exactly as he says, everything will be fine.”
Greg looked at Death, eyes shining with anticipation. While Greg was a lovely guy, I realized that I hadn’t gotten to know him properly either. Sure he seemed as innocent as a puppy dog, but was it all a ruse? I shook my head slightly. The training had really gotten to me. If I couldn’t trust my own fellow Deliverers, who could I trust?
“Rose, do you know what you’ll be doing?” I jumped slightly, realizing that Death was addressing me. “I’ll be with Silas. We’ll be outside the facility, making sure the coast is clear.” Death nodded tersely at me.
“Tracy, Agatha and Walter will stay here and provide back up if needed,” the three Deliverers nodded in unison. “I’ll leave you all to equip our newest recruit with everything she needs in the Overworld.” Death finished, exchanging a look with me. I was taken aback by how intense his gaze was. What was he trying to tell me? Perhaps he was just concerned that his “newest recruit” would be in danger. I was fine with that. I had more important things on my mind, like how soon after this mission I would be able to see Stan.
“OK team, let’s head on into the meeting room,” Walter said. I marveled at how he was able to command the team without appearing cocky or pretentious. He put his hand on the glass door and we filed in.
The table now had four sets of equipment lying next to each other. Each set contained a silver Lucent gun, a bullet-proof vest, and an in-ear headset. As Greg, Tor and Silas moved towards their battle gear, I held back. The closest I had ever come to wearing battle gear was a 25th birthday years back. A friend from university had a paintball tournament. I rubbed my left buttock ruefully as I remembered the scar that was left there from some idiot who had shot me at close range. Turned out it was friendly fire as well.
Hesitatingly, I moved towards the last set of gear on the table as Silas, Tor and Greg readied themselves. The vest was fine. It fit nice and tight against my torso. I next picked up the headset. It was as small as a button cell. I slowly put it into my left ear, nudging it around until it felt comfortable.
“Where is the microphone?” I asked nobody in particular. I jumped slightly when I heard Agatha’s voice speaking clearly into my head. “There is no microphone. It’s a Light Bug. It’s used to connect you to us when you’re roaming the Overworld. It’s how we’ll track you and our only connection with you, so don’t lose it,” she finished derisively.
I resisted casting a withering look at her and readjusted it slightly. The last thing was the Lucent Gun. It rested on the table in its holster, shimmering slightly. I could feel the eyes of the other Deliverers as I reached down with both hands to pick up the firearm. I wrapped the holster around my waist, adjusting the strap until it sat snugly on top of my hips. The gun was on my left side. Reaching across, I drew the weapon with my right hand, pointing it the table. The other Deliverers were still, almost expecting something to happen.
It felt different to the training gun. It was warm in my hand and seemed to vibrate ever so slightly like it was excited to finally meet me. It was lighter and felt like the most natural thing in the world to draw it and point it. If it were as easy to pull the trigger my job would be that much easier. I holstered my weapon and everyone relaxed.
“It seems like your Lucent Gun likes you,” Tracy said. I looked at her and grinned. So I wasn’t wrong. I was getting good vibes from the fire arm. Agath
a glided towards me and I turned to meet her. This woman had the worst case of resting bitch face that I’d ever seen.
“The bond between the Lucent Gun and the Deliverer is important. Death himself procures these weapons from a higher power. They can sense the goodness inside souls,” she eyed me judgementally. “It seems like you have passed its test.”
I now shot my withering look at her. I wanted to be the bigger person, but I had to do it, just this once. “So how would it feel if it deemed that I wasn’t worthy?” I retorted. Agatha kept glowering at me. “You wouldn’t be able to lift it,” she said simply.
I realized that I had already gotten used to its weight on my left hip. Without thinking, I blurted out my next question.
“Then how did Dante get one?”
It was as if the meeting room had frozen over. No one seemed to move as the enormity of what I’d just asked sunk in. My eyes darted between my colleagues. No one was giving away anything. Eventually, Walter broke the silence.
“The Lucent guns measure goodness but don’t pay any attention to torment,” he explained. “Even if he was tormented and tortured, the goodness in his soul must have just outweighed the bad.” Was there something Walter knew that he wasn’t telling me? Looking around at the other Deliverers, it seemed like this was a topic that no one else was comfortable discussing.
“Draw your weapon again,” Agatha commanded. The tension the room dropped as she changed the topic. I looked at her flatly; neither of us were willing to break eye contact.
“Come on, Rose! Agatha just wants to show you something important,” Tracy said brightly. Agatha broke our stare off and smiled warmly at her. I was getting the feeling that Tracy was brought in first as a peacemaker and second as a Deliverer.
I took out my Lucent Gun again. Agatha came up close to me, standing in line with my weapon. “When you’re out there and want to retreat back to the Underworld, the mechanism lies in the gun.” She explained. “Have you ever reloaded a handgun before?” I wanted to say yes just to spite her, but I looked down at my weapon and shook my head.
