by KJ Harlow
My hands grasped the handle of my Lucent Gun. I was pointing it at both Silas and the Conflicted. They were moving too much for me to get a clean shot. My knuckles were white as I tried to stay calm. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t make the shot. I was watching Silas get choked by a Conflicted and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then I noticed movement behind them. A pair of eyes glowed and came forward, menacingly. It was a second Conflicted. It was climbing over the furniture and looked to be coming right at me. Wait – were these the Conflicted from the hospital? How did they know we were here? I didn’t have time to ponder this. My gun was now pointed at the advancing Conflicted.
Right then, Silas let out a suppressed scream. The Conflicted had released one hand and had stabbed a kitchen knife into his thigh. Why was this happening? This was meant to be an easy mission. Now I was watching my comrade bleed while Conflicted attacked us.
I heard two gun shots from behind me. The two Conflicted fell to the ground, disintegrating before my very eyes. Silas writhed in pain on the ground not far from them. The lights were turned on. I spun around and saw Tracy, gun pointed down at the Conflicted. She looked at me and winked.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said in her cheerful voice. I collapsed, covering my face with my hands. What the hell was I doing here? I didn’t deserve to be a Deliverer. I just broke Rule Number One. I was indecisive and it nearly cost Silas his life.
Tracy went across to pick up Silas’ gun. She returned it to him. He looked up at Tracy, his face a sickly shade of green.
“You’ve been given the OK to retreat,” Tracy said reassuringly. He nodded slightly then pressed the reload button. His being glowed with a white light for a second then disappeared.
Tracy then crouched down next to me. She wrapped me in her arms. “Ssh, it’s OK.” She whispered. “It’s not your fault. We don’t know how the Conflicted knew you were up here, but it’s over now.”
That’s when we both heard it: gunshots through the Light Bugs. I looked at Tracy in alarm. “Tor and Greg! They’re attacking someone!” I exclaimed.
“Or is someone attacking them?” Tracy mused, her expression suddenly turning serious. She held my face in her hands. “It looks like we’ll have to go in and take a look. You’re going to back me up, right?” The warmth in her hands energized and calmed me down at the same time.
I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and nodded at her. This was the last time I was going to let my comrades get hurt.
Ten
Tracy and I were standing in the elevator as it went down to the ground floor of the apartment. One of the lights had blown in the elevator and was flickering eerily. I fidgeted nervously, glancing up as the lights gradually counted down. Trying to hide my nerves, I glanced across at Tracy. She was fiddling with the zip on her vest, a look of concentration etched on her face. She heaved a big sigh, dropped her hands by her side and looked at me.
“I get that we’re basically zombie killers, but you would think they could have at least given us a more comfortable choice in apparel.” Her hands darted back up to the zip to begin her fiddling assault anew. When it became apparent that it wasn’t going look the way she wanted it to, she huffed with exasperation.
I looked down at my feet and smiled. I barely knew the girl but I she was the closest thing I had to a sister all my life. I could imagine her standing up to bullies in school and us talking about boys and periods while eating hazelnut ice cream straight out of the tub. I noticed her Lucent Gun glowing gently through the holster.
“Trace,” she looked at me, expression bright again, “did you ever-” The elevator dinged. She pressed herself to one side of the elevator nearest to the door, motioning for me to do the same. Her gun was already in her hand. I hadn’t even seen her take it out. My hand went down to my gun. I almost dropped it before I recovered and held it up and close to my chest like Tracy did.
Right at that moment, the flickering light in the elevator blew. For a fraction of a second, we were standing in darkness, waiting for the elevator door to open. It almost felt like the elevator was considering whether it should let us out or not before it begrudgingly opened its polished, steel mouth.
Tracy cautiously peered outside. In one fluid motion, she put one foot at the door of the elevator and pointed her gun out first to the wall immediately behind her once she stepped out. Seeing that there was just a waste paper bin there, she turned back and pointed the gun at every other corner, surveying them casually but closely. She looked back at me and jerked her head towards the entrance of the building.
The foyer was dark as we stepped silently through it to the automatic door. I looked up at the lights, squinting at the ceiling. I could see bulbs, but no light. I then felt glass crunching beneath my feet. I froze, wondering if I’d fallen into a trap. Tracy swiveled her head back at me. I looked at her and shook my head. Someone had shot the bulbs. Whatever they were doing, they didn’t want to be noticed by anyone outside.
The automatic doors slid open and we were outside again. The pounding in my ears slowed as I breathed in the crisp, night air. After Tracy made sure the coast was clear we crossed the road, clinging close to the shadows and made our way to the entrance of the abandoned children’s hospital. There were no Conflicted guards here. Sterile air wafted out from the hospital. My pulse quickened as I breathed it in.
I never liked hospitals. I once had to go in for a bad gash I got from losing my footing at the top of a flight of stairs. The doctor who bandaged me up told me that I was lucky. He had to declare a time of death at least once a week and had become well practiced in delivering the unfortunate news to the family. I guess now that I was dead I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
We stood outside the entrance. I flinched as I heard gunfire. There were the dull thuds of bodies thumping into the ground and fizzing as corpses disintegrated: Conflicted. Or was that the sound of Deliverers’ bodies decomposing after being Ceased? Hairs rose on the back of my neck as I shut my eyes and shivered.
“Rose.” My eyes snapped open and met Tracy’s. Her happy-go-lucky expression had gone and was replaced with hardness, unbefitting for her attractive, almond-shaped face. Her blonde hair shone silver by the light of the lamp post. “Can I rely on you?” She asked me directly.
I looked back at her. Silas’ guttural scream echoed in my mind. I clenched my fists as I felt them start to shake. No. There was no more backing away. I’d always run away from my problems. It’s not only resulted in me not living the life I’ve wanted to live, but also losing my life altogether. My gun felt warm against my side. I drew it, this time holding it firmly as my finger curled around the trigger. No – No more running. Looking at Tracy’s blazing eyes, I nodded resolutely. Tracy’s expression softened. She returned my smile as we pushed open the door and walked into Mortimer’s den.
The air hung heavy and moist around us. If I felt queasy from the air when I was standing outside the hospital, I now felt sick breathing it in directly. I put my hand against the wall. It was slick as if sweat was covering it. No. There was no turning back. I straightened my back and held my gun close to my heart.
The hallways here were also dark like the foyer in the apartment. I could make out the reception desk at the end of the hall. There was a white light faintly illuminating a leather-bound chair behind the desk. Was it coming from the monitor? Plastic chairs were scattered haphazardly over the tiled floor in front of the desk. Visions of the waiting room in the Underworld flashed back and I smiled fondly, remembering how close I came to uppercutting the receptionist and how Greg had saved the day. He was somewhere in this building, along with Tor. Hopefully, they were OK.
Tracy had started moving through the hall towards the reception area. Her Lucent gun glowed in the dark, providing a gentle beacon for me to follow. I followed Tracy, gun close to my heart. It wasn’t beating out of my chest anymore. Maybe I was getting used to being alive again.
Tracy methodically made her way around
the room, pointing her gun at anything that made a sound or moved. A few rats scampered hurriedly across the floor, desperate to get back to the safety of their homes. Tracy and I covered the two halves of the room and met at the front of the reception desk. The light I saw at the entrance was coming from the monitor. There was some flickering on the screen, but I wasn’t able to make out what it was from my current position.
Tracy and I exchanged glances then made our way to the back of reception desk. Both of us widened our eyes when we saw the screen. I looked across at Tracy and could see the security footage reflected in her eyes.
We were being watched. There were four cameras but we could only see people on one of them. Seeing the angle that the footage was coming from, Tracy pointed her gun at the corner of the ceiling and in one shot blew out the camera. The footage of us standing at the desk became snow. I then heard a voice that made my blood run cold, despite how stuffy it was inside the hospital. A man clad in a trench coat appeared on the screen next to the one we blew out.
“Hello, ladies. How are we this evening?” Mortimer’s voice echoed through the reception through an intercom, his British accent refined yet surly. Tracy smiled. She bent down and spoke into the desk microphone.
“We’re doing very well, thank you for asking,” she said sweetly. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time she had done this before. “It’s not very polite of you to not send someone to greet us at the door,” she said, continuing to play along.
“Oh but I did!” Mortimer said, voice pitching up in mock astonishment. “In fact, I sent them directly to where you were hiding outside. I trust that they were… well received.” Mortimer said his lip curling in malice.
“Yes, thanks for extending your hospitality so far,” Tracy said, rolling her eyes. She looked like she was about to fire off another barbed comment when Mortimer spoke again.
“And who is this companion of yours? My doesn’t she look familiar… why, if I’m not mistaken, I believe that we might have met in a different life!” Mortimer chortled darkly. I blushed angrily in the dark. Any snide comeback I would have made was backed up in my throat. I didn’t like this man one bit. My Lucent gun hummed reassuringly in my hand.
“Rose and I are coming to take back someone of ours, someone who’s overstayed his welcome but doesn’t have a way to get back home,” Tracy said tersely, her voice starting to bely the tension she was feeling.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…” Mortimer recited poetically. He would really have been a charming man if he wasn’t a murderous Tormented hell-bent on finding innocent people to turn. “This person doesn’t want to come back home. He’s more than happy being here. For his whole life, he’s wanted more power. That’s what I’m promising him.” He stepped aside from the camera, showing us the hostage straining against his bindings behind him.
Based on what I could see this person could very well be Riggs. He wasn’t a big man by any means, but he was proud of the fact that he cycled to work every morning, turning his nose up at the fact that I drove my car in. I didn’t know whether I felt glad or annoyed to have to save his sorry ass in this situation. Having one up on him would feel good, but he was the last person I would want to rescue in a hostage situation.
“Mort, how about you let our friend go and we can just call it even?” Tracy said, batting her eye lashes. He snapped his head back to the camera. His eyes were bulging out of his head, grotesque and bulbous. He looked like he was about to explode. When Tor had called him Mort, his arm was pressed against my neck. I couldn’t see what I saw now: he was apoplectic with rage.
His teeth were bared and he looked ready to attack us through the camera when the door that was being guarded by Conflicted in the background started heaving. The Conflicted guards jumped and turned towards the doors. They drew blades from their waists, preparing to attack whatever came through the door.
“Looks like I have some visitors. Sorry we couldn’t chat longer,” Mortimer snarled, his eyes mad with a mix of rage and amusement. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you very soon.” As he reached to turn off the camera, the doors burst open. Tor came through shoulder first, knocking over the two Conflicted guards. Greg had his gun drawn and had shot the two guards. That was the last we saw of them before the screen became dark.
“Damn it!” Tracy yelled. She slammed her hands flat on the table in frustration. “As if cut out just when it gets to the good part!” She exhaled deeply and looked at the black screen where Mortimer spoke to us a moment ago. Now, one camera was displaying snow, one was dark and two were on switched on and recording other places in the hospital.
“But at least we know that Tor and Greg are safe, right? We just saw them storm into the room Mortimer was in,” I reasoned. Tracy looked across at me and smiled wanly. Why did she look so tired all of a sudden?
“Yes, you’re right. I just…” her voice trailed off as she seemed to become deep in thought. She began absent-mindedly chewing on her fingernails. This was a different side of the confident, bright woman that I’d known so far. Did she have a thing for Tor? I wouldn’t blame her. He fit the bill of the strong, silent type and she was the head cheerleader that everyone loved. It was like a badly written romance waiting to happen. I felt a bit unsure of what to do, so we just stood there by the light of the monitor for a while.
All of a sudden, Tracy seemed to snap out of it. “Oh, what did you want to ask me before at the apartment?” She asked brightly. I gave her a blank look for while wondering what she was referring to. “You know, in the elevator,” she said, nudging my arm. A light bulb flicked on in my head.
“Oh right, that. I was just going to ask you–”
A throwing knife whizzed past Tracy and my face, inches away from giving us horrific scars. In a flash, Tracy drew her Lucent Gun, got down on one knee and blew a hole right through the Conflicted’s head.
My unfinished question hung in the air as did my open mouth. As the Conflicted started disintegrating, Tracy turned back to me with a forced smile on her face.
“Don’t you hate it when people keep interrupting you when you’re trying to talk?” She said with a hint of annoyance. “Now what were you going to ask?”
“I was going to ask whether you had a shot a gun before you became a Deliverer,” I said, staring at the remains of the Conflicted as they disintegrated. “You make it look so easy,” I mumbled.
Tracy looked at me and smiled warmly. “No, I was a stupid drug-addicted nobody who couldn’t afford the hits I needed, let alone a gun. My shooting comes from inside me,” she said, pointing her thumb to her chest, “as well as practice of course.” She added, with a wink.
“Inside you?” I repeated.
“Yeah. It’s hard to explain but once you shoot your first Conflicted, it’ll just come to you naturally. Remember, you’re not murdering them. They’re lost souls. We’re sending them through to Death. Wherever they go down there, it’s better than wandering the Overworld forever,” she said, rearranging her vest distractedly. We saw shadows coming down a hallway marked ‘Radiology’.
“And sometimes,” she crouched behind the desk, voice dropping to a whisper, “you just have to shoot the right Conflicted to awaken the Deliverer within.” Three Conflicted had come through the radiology hall and stopped, looking for their comrades. Before they even had a chance to look at the reception desk, Tracy had taken care of them all. She turned back to me with an apologetic grimace on her face.
“Sorry, I’m a bit of a hog. Silas and I have a running tally going on to see who’s Ridded more Conflicted.” She grinned, “you’ll just have to beat me to the kill next time. Come on, let’s go.” She rose and moved to the wall close to the radiology door. I stayed close, her words bouncing around in my mind.
Shoot the right Conflicted…
All the Conflicted were the same right? This was silly. I just had to take a shot and get one of them. So what if I missed the first time. As long as I got one eventually, I would be fine.
And it would get easier. So why did I hesitate?
“Come on Rose, this–” Mortimer’s voice interrupted Tracy mid-sentence. I glanced back at the monitor on the receptionist’s desk. His camera was still off. Something was wrong.
“Hello again, ladies. Sorry to have left you so abruptly before. Rather unlike me,” his voice came through crisp and clear. Tracy was completely still. Her face had become ashen as if she’d seen a ghost. I looked at her, confused. Why had Mortimer’s interruption shaken her so much this time?
“As you might have seen before, I was interrupted by a couple of would-be heroes – rather rudely, I might add.” Now I froze. Tor and Greg. What had happened to them? “I have given them the welcome they deserved,” Mortimer said, fighting to suppress a tone of triumph from his voice.
I looked wildly across at Tracy, who still hadn’t moved. Then a realization dawned on me. Trembling, my hand went up to my ear. I carefully removed the Light Bug and held it an inch away. I blanched when I heard Mortimer’s voice talking through it. He had Tor and Greg’s Light Bugs. What had he done with them?
“I have your friends. Would you like to come and collect them now? Oh and this place can be a bit of a maze so,” his Ombre Gun loudly went off, making me and Tracy jump, “I’ll be sending my newest colleague to come and collect you.” Mortimer cackled before ending the transmission.
Tracy and I dared not move. How did it all go wrong? How did Greg and Tor get caught?
“‘Newest colleague’?” I asked cautiously. Tracy’s shoulders slumped.
“I think Mortimer just shot Riggs.”
Eleven
“Hello? Tracy? Rose? Do you read me?” Walter’s voice rang urgently through our Light Bugs. Tracy wasn’t herself anymore; she looked defeated.
“Yes, we’re still here.” She murmured, head down.
“Hi Walter, we’re here,” I paused and then decided to ask the question. “Did you just hear all that?”
