by KJ Harlow
Deep down, every person had the ability to become a Conflicted. No one was pure. Having the privilege of wielding a Lucent Gun meant I had the responsibility of freeing these Conflicted souls from their corporeal prisons so that they could move on.
I watched in fascination as the bullet pierced Conflicted Riggs’ head. I felt no queasiness as his skin folded back to accommodate it. My stomach didn’t turn when he crumpled in a heap on the floor. I only felt glad for him when his body started fizzing black, disintegrating before my very eyes.
“Goodbye Riggs, thanks for everything,” I said with half a smile. I got to work.
I got down on one knee and started shooting the Conflicted that ran at us. I Rid one Conflicted after the other, pushing the wave back. I’d heard about people under high-pressure situations who were able to see things that usually happened too quickly for the naked eye to perceive. Just like with the bullet that had pierced Riggs, I could not only see them enter the Conflicted, I could also line up the gun for the next shot without feeling rushed.
Tracy watched in awe, dagger dangling uselessly in her hand. She laughed to herself, crossing her hands as she stared at me.
There was one Conflicted left. Seeing its comrades littering the floor all around him, it seemed to think for a second about what to do. Eventually it charged, blade in hand right at me. I was still on one knee about to rid this last Conflicted when a dagger whizzed past my ear and thudded into its head. It crumpled to the ground with a surprised look on its face.
“Hey, don’t be a hog,” Tracy said sounding annoyed. She went over to the Conflicted, pulled out her dagger, wiped it on its quickly disintegrating clothes and sheathed it.
I mirrored her, putting away my Lucent Gun. It seemed to hum in its holster, satisfied that it had finally been put to work. A noise in my Light Bug made both Tracy and I jump.
“Great work Rose!” Agatha whooped. Walter was quiet, but I could almost imagine him smiling approvingly like a proud father. Tracy and I exchanged glances, holding back our laughter. I’d rather face a horde of Conflicted again than deal with an Agatha who had suddenly become my biggest fan.
“It looks like your Deliverer instincts are finally beginning to awaken,” Walter said over the Light Bug. I was still buzzing with the excitement of what just happened. He didn’t seem to share it. Maybe he just wasn’t the excitable type.
“It was thanks to Tracy,” I said, looking approvingly at my friend. “She was the one who told me to shoot the right Conflicted.” Tracy rolled her eyes and cocked her wrist at me in mock embarrassment. It was probably the adrenaline talking, but I felt invincible right then and there.
“It was also thanks to Mort. If he hadn’t turned Riggs, he wouldn’t have been my first kill.”
I nodded, looking up at a camera that I spied in the corner of the cafeteria. I didn’t know if he could hear me or see much, but I felt that we had one up on him.
I looked back at the carnage that I had just delivered moments ago. There wasn’t a pile of corpses. All the Conflicted had already disintegrated. There was no trace that they had even existed. I smiled to myself, thinking about how Death might react getting a sudden influx of new visitors.
“Guys, did you see that girl who attacked us?” Tracy asked, her voice suddenly becoming serious.
“Yes, we still don’t know who she is, but she did say something that was concerning,” Walter said.
I looked at Tracy again. I was coming off the high from my Ridding spree.
Why don’t you ask Tor?
Her innocent yet dangerous voice echoed in my head. Why did I react the way that I did? Tor meant nothing to me… or so I thought. I clenched my fists and relaxed them.
“We still haven’t been able to get through to either Greg nor Tor,” Walter continued. “Mortimer must have destroyed both their Light Bugs.”
“Speaking of destroyed…” Tracy’s dagger changed back into Lucent Gun form. She tried to squeeze the trigger again. “Damn. Still no good.” She cursed, holstering it.
“We’ll need to have a look at it when you come back down here,” Agatha said. “For the time being, you have to stay with Rose.”
“Wait, how can Tracy come back if the gun doesn’t work? How does she retreat?” I said worriedly.
“Don’t worry. As long as she’s touching a fellow Deliverer who is able to retreat, she will be taken along for the ride,” Walter explained.
I relaxed hearing this. I had caused enough problems for Tracy so far. The last thing I wanted was for her to be trapped up here with no weapon to defend herself with.
“There is one more thing…” Tracy said slowly.
I gave Tracy a confused look, which she didn’t return.
“Yes. That young girl said something about finding someone else who they wanted to turn into a Tormented.” Agatha said grimly. I had completely forgotten she had said that.
“She may be bluffing,” I reasoned, trying to lighten the mood. There was silence at the other end as the older Deliverers considered what I had said.
“No, I don’t think she’s bluffing. How does lying to us about this information benefit her?” Walter considered. He continued after a pause. “The Tormented are flexing their muscle. They feel like they have the upper hand. We’ve got to be ready for anything,” he finished prosaically.
Getting my first taste of Ridding seemed to awaken something inside me that I didn’t know existed. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was in control of my life. How ironic that it came when my life belonged to Death.
“Yes, that’s true. At any rate, that means rescuing Greg and Tor becomes even more of a priority,” I looked intently at Tracy who met my gaze this time. “Trace, do you think you’ll be OK without your Lucent gun?” I asked.
“You saw the way that I used my dagger, right? Gun or no gun, slaying Conflicted is what gets me going,” she ran a finger along the grip of her weapon. “I love my Lucent toys.” She sighed dreamily. I wasn’t sure I liked Ridding Conflicted that badly, at least not yet. I gave an awkward laugh then looked away from Tracy, addressing Agatha and Walter again.
“OK, Tracy and I are going to keep moving forward. Are we far from Mortimer?” I questioned the senior Deliverers.
I heard Walter addressing a worker in the background. “No. You and Tracy are in the cafeteria so,” Agatha trailed off, while she was relayed information from Walter, “you just need to keep moving forward through where the Conflicted came from. You’ll come to a fork in the hallway. Take the right and you’ll come into main theater hall where surgeons perform major operations. From here, look for the operating room that Mortimer’s in. There are only three.”
“Aggravating or attacking Mortimer is strictly forbidden. Walter said strictly. “Not only are we going into their den, the source of Mortimer’s Torment is still unknown. Our guns will not Cease him. They can only stun. We are to rescue the hostages then retreat immediately. Is that understood?”
“Understood,” Tracy and I said in unison. The gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in. We had to snatch back a couple of hostages right from underneath the enemy’s nose. I rested my hand on my Lucent Gun. It felt reassuring to have it there.
“We have no visibility into the situation beyond this Cafeteria so in a way, you’ll be going in blind. Remember that you can always communicate with us via your Light Bugs. Other than that, it’s completely up to you.” Walter continued.
“Alright Rose, you ready?” Tracy said. She looked across at me. I met her gaze.
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
We left the Cafeteria. I was at the front, leading with my Lucent Gun. I did my best to imitate Tracy from before, scanning the blind spots for any would-be Conflicted looking to spring an ambush on me. Tracy had her dagger drawn, prowling right behind me.
The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered in the hallway. It was quiet – too quiet. Were all of the Conflicted waiting for us in the operating theaters?
; If it feels like a trap, it probably is.
Before we knew it, we came to the end of the hall. A bust of an ancient, Greek physician stared at us forlornly on a dusty wooden pedestal. Looking up, we saw signs pointing to the left and the right. The left went to prenatal care, while the right went to the operating theaters, just like Agatha had said. This hospital must have been bustling with life before the government had heartlessly abandoned it when they built the new one closer to the university. I looked down the left hall. It stretched for an imperceptibly long distance, eventually disappearing into the darkness. I wonder if even newborn babies came into the Waiting Room? What did Death do with them? I shivered.
“Come on,” Tracy said, putting her hand on my shoulder. I jumped slightly. Looking back at her I nodded. We turned right and kept walking.
The operating hall was different to the other rooms we had been in. I noticed that the lighting changed once we came into the hall. Unlike the hall leading in, this one had LED lights that glowed dimly, lighting the path ahead. Someone was expecting us. I kept my gun pointing forward as I explored the area. The path turned and we saw a rounded wall. I stepped around it, counting three doors. One of them had the number ‘1’ on it.
“What does it mean?” I pondered out loud, scratching my head. Tracy clicked her fingers.
“Hold on, I think I know what it means. Let’s keep moving down the hall,” she moved ahead, her dagger glinting in her hand. I followed, cautiously looking over my shoulder. “Rose, come here, look!” Tracy said under her breath. I could make out a bronze-plated number ‘2’ on the door. I tried pushing on the door but it didn’t budge. “Agatha said that there were three operating theaters, right? Come on.” She whispered, leading us down the hall again.
As we came to the end of the hall, we could see that the lights were on. Tracy and I exchanged looks. Side by side, we walked closer to the door marked ‘3’. We could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. My heart was beating out of my chest. My Lucent Gun seemed to be vibrating in anticipation for another round of Ridding. I put my hand on the door and took a deep breath in.
“Wait,” Tracy said, her voice barely audible. “If this is an operating theater…” She started slinking around the corner, motioning me to follow her. I quietly exhaled and tip toed after her. This theater had doors on either side of it as well just like the last two. Unlike the main door, it was dark. Tracy placed her hands on the door then pushed. It inched open soundlessly. She opened it slowly and I peeked in. My breath caught in my throat. The room was dark with about thirty chairs facing a window that occupied an entire wall. Through the window, I saw Tor lying on a metal table, arms and legs bound. Greg was on his right side in the same situation. At his feet stood Mortimer.
Tracy and I froze. Could he see us? It looked like for the time being we were safe. Quietly, we slipped in, closing the door of the viewing room behind us. We clung to the wall and inched closer to the viewing glass.
“I’m no villain,” Mortimer stated innocently. I squeaked in surprise. Tracy clapped her hand over my mouth, putting a finger over her lips. She pointed up in the corner where a speaker was installed. Of course; this was a teaching hospital. The surgeons would have spoken to interns as they watched on eagerly. Someone must have forgotten to turn off the microphone.
“I’m just a man who’s trying to get an honest day’s work done,” he said, maintaining his even tone. He was pacing at Greg and Tor’s feet, hands folded behind his back. He stopped between the two and walked up to them.
“You Deliverers are making it extremely hard for me to do that,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He recommenced his pacing. “Still, I must say you have your uses. If you hadn’t stormed in, then we wouldn’t have turned that pathetic excuse for a Tormented, Riggs into a Conflicted.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Imagine if we had continued wasting our time with him. I hate wasting time.” He stopped pacing again and now stood at Tor’s feet. “And I hate people who waste my time.”
“I hate people who waste my time too, Mort,” Greg said cheekily. In a flash, Mortimer had drawn his Ombre Gun and had it placed against Greg’s temple. His finger was firmly on the trigger.
“Mortimer.” A new voice came in through the speaker. Tracy froze up next to me. I looked at her in concern. Her face was a mask of terror. She was looking at Mortimer. Who spoke? I looked at Mortimer, who also appeared to freeze. Tor had also become stiff too. Greg, however, was still struggling against his restraints.
“Go on, shoot me, Mort,” he said, spitting out his name derisively. “You think I’m scared of you?”
Mortimer didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he straightened up and holstered his gun. He turned sharply and faced the viewing window on the other side of the room. He bowed curtly.
“Apologies, Dante.” Wait. Did he just say what I thought he said? I looked again at Tracy who was still frozen. Was he here? I looked through the window. into the other viewing room on the opposite side of the operating hall. I could just make out the outlines of two people sitting in the front row.
“Remember, these Deliverers submitted themselves to us on their own free will,” the voice continued over the speaker. “They are our guests.” The voice said, sounding happy. Tor and Greg surrendered? Didn’t they come in all guns a blazing? What the hell happened in between? Tor wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.
“Oh and speaking of guests, we are truly blessed this evening. Two more Deliverers have joined us! And just in time for the main event.” Tracy collapsed to her knees. I looked at her in alarm.
“No,” she whispered.
“Mortimer, won’t you welcome them to our humble abode? Hold on, I’ll get the light.” The lights flared on, I stood up and blinked several times. Tracy stayed on the floor. Tor turned his head to look at me, expressionless as always. Greg was craning his head up to see me. Mortimer was still facing the window on the other wall. He looked over his shoulder at me, a mask of disgust hiding mild annoyance. He looked toward the viewing room in front.
I followed the direction of his gaze. I looked. I stared. I frowned. I blinked. I looked again and finally, I sunk to my knees right next to Tracy, my Lucent Gun clattering by my side. No. It couldn’t be, but it was. He was there right before my eyes, looking at me, eyes filled with despair.
It was Stan.
Thirteen
No. This was all wrong. This wasn’t happening. That wasn’t Stan. How could it be? He should have been mixing drinks behind the bar at 1806, working his charm with the clientele.
Yet he was here. My heart knew him when I saw him, though right now I didn’t know if it was beating out of my chest because of the earlier than expected reunion or the cortisol that was flooding my body, telling me to run across the room toward him.
He was staring at me, his gentle, brown eyes brimming with tears. He hadn’t shaved in days. He knew I hated how prickly his face felt when I kissed him. I guess there wasn’t any reason to if he thought I was dead. His frame had shrunk, his face was sunken, his cheeks sallow. Had someone done this to him? My eyes flicked up to the man standing by his side. He had his hand on Stan’s shoulder, looking at me curiously, his head cocked slightly to one side.
“Rose…” Stan mouthed. “Rose!” He said again, his voice breaking. He shook his head and dropped it into his hands, his shoulders heaving with emotion as he sobbed.
I hadn’t seen Stan cry in the time we were together. He told me that his dad had left them when he was five. It was at that time that he had to step up and be the man of the house. I desperately wanted to go to him, collect him in my embrace and tell him everything was going to be OK, even though I knew it wasn’t.
“Oh. You two know each other?” Dante said, frowning. “Hm. That could be a problem.” He looked deep in thought. Being the head of the Tormented, Dante didn’t look menacing. His ebony hair was slicked back. His dark eyes were shrewd and sharp. The trait that took me by surprise was that he was young.
I’d peg him at his mid-20’s when he died. He looked familiar like I’d met or at least seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Mortimer,” he said. Mortimer visibly flinched, standing straighter. “Why didn’t we pick up the fact that our Tormented-to-be is related to a Deliverer?” Dante said, a hard edge lining his question.
“Rose is a new Deliverer. When I turned her, I didn’t know that Death would bind her into one of his damned contracts,” he spat. He looked over his shoulder at me again. “She was just meant to be a distraction to let me make my great escape.” eyeing Tor gleefully while saying this. I couldn’t see Tor, but I could feel chinks appear in his usually calm exterior, his anger starting to simmer. Dante took his hand off Stan, who relaxed slightly. The next moment he was strolling in through the main door of the surgery, hands cupped behind his back.
“Death. Why does that godforsaken angel feel like he has to meddle in all of my plans?” A vein in his temple was pulsing as he said this. My eyes had left Stan and were following Dante as he walked slowly yet purposefully across the room to Mortimer.
“Must I remind you that our power lies in the unknown. The unknown protects us. The moment we find out the truth behind our Torment, we’re vulnerable.” Dante said, addressing Mortimer with a level tone. “Choosing candidates to turn into Tormented who are related to Deliverers is not good enough, Mortimer,” he finished softly. Mortimer cowered as if he had been punched in the back of the head.
“Stan was a perfect candidate. His torment was so powerful that it was practically a beacon that led us to him.”
“I had just lost Rose! Of course I was tormented!” Stan cried. My heart tore hearing his voice for the first time in weeks.
Mortimer regained his composure and made a beeline towards the viewing room where Stan was. He bent his head down, looking down at Stan, smiling grotesquely. “Ah, but that’s not all there is, isn’t there? There’s something else, something you had been meaning to tell your dear Rose before her,” he snickered, “unfortunate demise.” He finished, his lip curling derisively.
