Claimed By Honor

by Justin Sloan

  "Should I ask what it actually is?" Jackson asked.

  The man glared. "Certainly could, but the only answer you’ll get is ‘fucking delicious,’ unless you’re with the Enforcers."

  Jackson tossed down two rust-colored coins and smiled. "Haven’t seen them about, actually. Hear anything?"

  The man looked at him, so Jackson slapped down another coin.

  "Just that there was a big fight last night, and many of them answered a call for backup, while others abandoned the city."

  "That so?" Jackson said, then seemed to remember that Valerie was standing there. He took the hotdog from the vendor and handed it to her, then took one for himself. She wasn’t sure about eating it after the way the vendor had just acted, but then she considered the point that she was a vampire—there wasn’t much that could be in this hot dog that would be worse than sucking blood from a man or woman.

  When she bit into it, she had to moan, eyes closed. Damn that was good.

  "Right?" the guy said as if he’d understood her thoughts. "Best hot dog ever? Well, I guess you have nothing to compare it against, but still. Best, right?"

  "Just shut up so I can focus on devouring this thing," she said with enough of a grin to let him know she was joking.

  Mostly.

  "Good." He pointed to a side-street nearby, a red door partly visible along the opposite building. "Let’s drop off your coat there, and then—"

  "Wait." She took another bite, swallowed, and then reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of coins. "Come on, for the shoes and food. You were on your way somewhere, and here I am interrupting you."

  He held his hands up, showing he wasn’t interested in the money. "For your information, I was on my way back from working the docks. I work the night, and after what happened last night with the fighting, needed myself some comfort. And, you know, what better comfort than a huge breakfast. I mean, I saw things you wouldn’t believe."

  "Try me."

  He considered her, then said, "Nu-uh. Maybe on a second or third date, but I don’t need no crazy card pulled on me just yet."

  "That bad huh?" she asked as they started walking toward the red door.

  "Let’s just say you should be glad you were home in bed sleeping." He opened the door and motioned her to go first.

  Inside smelled like a combination of potatoes and cleaning chemicals. An old man sat sewing near the window, and glanced up at her with thick, eyebrow-hidden eyes.

  Suddenly he lit up, eyes full of joy and crows-feet creasing from a life of smiles. "Jackie-boy!

  Valerie glanced back at Jackson. "Jackie-boy? Nice."

  "Only family calls me that," he said like it was a warning. "So uncle Vlad here gets away with it. "We got business for you, Uncle Vlad."

  "Good, good!" the man said, standing to greet Jackson with a hug. "And your friend here," he said, looking over Valerie, "I hope she’s more than just business."

  "Watch yourself," Jackson said, beating Valerie to it. She’d already opened her mouth to give the older man a hard time. Instead, she just asked how long it would take to repair her coat.

  Vlad gave it a once over, then grunted. "Patched up? Within the hour, if you need it. Good as new won’t happen, though, just so we’re clear."

  "I’ll take her in whatever shape you can return her to me," Valerie said. "As long as it's better than this."

  He accepted her coins, and then Jackson led her to a shop that had clothing. It wasn’t anything fancy—what looked like an abandoned diner that now had metal racks with hangers full of clothes. She found herself a nice new blouse and set of jeans that almost matched the old ones. Then she picked up several more sets and a pair of sweatpants for training in.

  "I guess that about does it?" Jackson said as he did his best to stifle a yawn.

  She’d almost forgotten how he’d not gotten much sleep, but she was enjoying herself. It wasn’t every day she was able to spend time with someone outside of the UnknownWorld circles.

  She sat down and tried on the fake Pumas. They were perfect.

  "Don’t suppose I can convince you to grab one more hotdog?" she asked, looking up as he offered a hand to help her stand.

  "You speak my language," he said with a laugh.

  So they found a spot on the stony edge of an old fountain at the center of the square. The fountain had long ago rusted over, but was still nice to relax by.

  "The corporations built this when they tried to encourage a new renaissance," Jackson said between bites, patting the edge of the fountain as if it were a pet. "Problem was, they had to divert a lot of that money to the militias, ensuring our safety from the outsiders."

  "It’s that big of a threat?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "Dunno, actually. But there was the big attack, shortly after the fall of Pittsburgh. Stories of that day will never die off."

  She took a bite of her hot dog and was pleased to find it tasted just as good as the one she’d had about forty minutes before.

  "Were you part of it?" she asked. "The defense, I mean."

  He shook his head. "They were going after the younger guys, and I guess they had enough."

  "Younger?" she looked at him, thinking he had to be no more than twenty-five. "And how old are you, exactly?"

  "Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask that?"

  "Isn’t that only for ladies?"

  He frowned and said, "Hmm, I guess you’re right. It’s only been ladies who have ever said it to me, I guess. Never thought about it."

  "So?"

  "Well, now I don’t know. Does it seem fair that you get to know my age and I don’t get to know yours?"

  She rolled her eyes. There was no way she was ever going to tell him her age—especially considering that she was a vampire and therefore older than her looks could possibly make sense with.

  "Let’s just say I’m a bit older than thirty-eight," he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret, "and younger than forty."

  "No fucking way," she said, then noticed him cringe. "An old man who doesn’t like cursing? In Old Manhattan? Are you for real."

  He laughed and waved her joke off. "I’m not that old first of all, and you know I look good for my age—I could tell by your expression when I said my age. What, does it scare you off?"

  A metro car zoomed past in its antigrav-powered yellow tube.

  "I’m not following." She took another bite, chewed, then swallowed while looking at the passing people. All of these people, not a clue what was going on just under their noses. "What would scare me off?"

  "Going on a date with an older man," he said. "I mean, this is a date, right? Dinner," he motioned to the hotdog, and then the throng of people, "and a show."

  She scoffed, but with another long pause as she took in the people, the billboards, and the lights that seemed impossible to fuel in this or any society, she had to admit it was quite breathtaking. But more than that, she enjoyed watching the shadows on the buildings, the sun reflecting from windows—sights she hadn’t seen since she’d been changed.

  "First of all, who said you were older." That earned her a doubtful glance and then a laugh from him. While her body appeared to be in her mid-twenties because that’s when she’d been changed by The Duke, her creator, she was mentally older now. He didn’t need to know that, though. "Second, if this is your idea of a date, you need to get your head checked."

  "No, you’re right." His eyes sparkled mischievously. "Guess that means I’ll have to ask you out on a real date sometime. Maybe on a day when I’ve had some actual sleep?"

  "Ah, I see what you did there." Cocking her head, she considered it. He didn’t seem like a horrible person, and with everything else going on around here, she could use a chance to relax. "Okay, I’ll—"

  A phhht sound came, and then all of the lights suddenly stopped. A subway car was stuck in its yellow tunnel, and the yellow light faded, leaving them with just the light from outside.

  There was an explosion in the distanc
e, and then, KA-BOOM!

  Valerie was instantly up, hand reaching for the sword that wasn’t there—she’d left it at Enforcer HQ.

  Jackson was at her side in an instant, reaching out as if to put her behind himself.

  "That came from aways away," he said, glancing back with worry. "My guess, they’re attacking the walls."

  "Come on," she said, pulling him to the red door. She burst in, yelling for her coat, and Vlad came out with it half-done. "That’ll have to do!" she said as she turned to leave. "Jackson, I’ll find you for that date. Don’t worry—but right now you need to stay here, hide in the back if you can."

  "What’re you talking about?" he said, looking at her like she was crazy. "You have to stay here with us, we can get you to safety, we have a spot."

  "Good, go there then, if you can hurry," she said. "But be ready for action."

  And before he could answer, she was off, slipping on her coat, and making her way back to Enforcer HQ.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Outside Old Jersey

  They had just walked past a large building, when Diego pressed Cammie back against its wall.

  He’d just seen several more of the soldiers walking past. And, as they stood there the ground rumbled. Something large was coming their way.

  "Excuse me," Cammie told him, “hand on tit here.”

  He looked over and felt the softness at the same time—then quickly moved his arm away. "Sorry, I didn’t mean—"

  "Shut up." She peeked around the corner. "You better have seen something, or…." Abruptly she pulled back. "Okay, I see them too. But next time, try two hands on the shoulders, unless you want to return to that conversation about Sandra and me giving you a hard time."

  "I said it was an accident."

  "You said sorry, you didn’t actually—"

  "Can we focus here?" he hissed, exasperated. He peeked back around the corner, and sure enough, there was the back of two men in black clothes, just like the ones he and Cammie were now wearing.

  He could feel Cammie’s breath on his neck as she leaned out to look too, and smell the sweat and blood of the recent fight, mixed with whatever musty scent those clothes still held from their previous owner. He was very glad that smell was the farthest thing from tempting he could think of.

  As they watched, the two moved out into the open, more joining them, and then a truck rumbled up and came to a stop.

  "They might have their headquarters nearby," Cammie whispered, hopeful.

  "Or at least an outpost."

  "How many can you take down?" she asked. "I imagine I could take on four or five, easily, you?"

  "Maybe?" He hoped she wouldn’t ask more.

  "I’ve seen you fight, what do you mean, maybe?"

  He sighed. "Growing up, it was more about scrapping to survive, not this militaristic shit we’re doing nowadays." At the look she gave him he said, "Hey, I’m as happy to tear out a throat as you are, I’m just saying I’m not quite as confident about my tearing out throat abilities yet."

  "Based on the amount of ass kicking you’ve been doing up to now, I’d say it’s time to get astride that confidence saddle and get ready to ride, buddy."

  "Speaking of hats…." That gave him an idea. He looked at her outfit, then at himself and the outfit he was wearing. "You get their hats and glasses?"

  She smiled and pulled out the sunglasses. One of the black skullcaps was hanging out of her pocket, which she put on, and handed him one of the pairs of sunglasses.

  "Tell me we’re about to walk right in there and ask how they’re doing," she said with an excited grin.

  "Pretty much what I was thinking." Diego put on his sunglasses, and looked her up and down—she looked just like one of them. Hopefully, the same could be said of him.

  "We circle around, then—"

  "Hey, you two!" a voice said, and they turned to see one of the guys walking up to them, rifle aimed at the dirt. Oh shit.

  A man was coming at them from the rear, so Diego prepared to attack. Cammie put a hand on his lower back, and he got the signal—not yet.

  "We’re here, at fucking last," she said.

  The guy didn’t even miss a beat, just assumed they were part of the team, apparently, because he said, "Good. Some of the others haven’t reported back yet, so we’re thinking something’s up. You already checked in?"

  "Of course," Diego said, doing his best to keep the edge out of his voice.

  "Right." The guy looked at them, and for a second, Diego prepared to attack, but then the guy nodded and kept on in the direction he was going. "Oh," he said, pausing momentarily, "we’ll probably be in the squad that goes in after them if we don’t hear something in the next few minutes, so stay on your toes."

  "Roger that," Cammie said, and sighed with relief as the man turned the corner. She turned to Diego with excitement. "This could really work."

  "Or we could make a break for it right now." Diego’s heart was still racing from that small encounter. The idea of more charades didn’t exactly appeal to him.

  Cammie shook her head. "We don’t know how many of them there are, or in which direction we’ll find them. We at least walk as if we have a purpose, and make a break for it when we can, but…."

  "But what?" he asked, agitation heavy in his voice. He hated it when people ended what they were saying with a ‘But.’

  "With Valerie having effectively declared war on Strake and the corporations, we might be her best bet at real, actionable intel."

  "You mean if we’re not killed first?" He crossed his arms, mentally preparing an argument for why they should just run and avoid the point she’d made. Problem was, he couldn’t. She was right.

  And she saw it in his face.

  "Follow my lead." She gave him a wink, which he found very obnoxious, and then walked in the direction the man had gone.

  With a small amount of muttering to himself about what a stupid idea this was, he followed.

  They walked out into the main street and then followed the sound of the rumbling truck, which had apparently started up again and was moving on.

  "How the hell’s that thing operating?" Diego hissed. "There’s not oil here in America, not that the rest of the world knows about, is there?"

  Cammie shook her head. "Must be some sort of alternative fuel, something only the corporations have access to. Can’t be good, though, listen to that thing."

  A couple of guards stood at an opening between two buildings. When Diego and Cammie turned the corner, they saw that behind these guards was a large tent with more men and a couple of women inside.

  Cammie just went straight on through, and the guards barely looked up from their discussion. Diego didn’t like this one bit, but he wasn’t about to let her go in by herself. The tent was supported by poles at the edges and a long one in the middle, but the walls were the brown and red brick buildings around him.

  Once they were inside, it was a different matter. Nobody wore hats or sunglasses in here, and one woman even turned to look at them when they entered. She seemed to be waiting for something, so Cammie nodded, then turned to face Diego as she took off her hat and sunglasses.

  "Is she coming over here?" Cammie mouthed, as Diego too took off his sunglasses.

  He glanced around Cammie, for once glad that he was short-she was just tall enough to give him cover to hide behind. Sure enough, the woman was approaching.

  Diego noticed a stairway close to a door nearby. He nodded toward the stairs, figuring the door could be locked, and the two spun to make their getaway.

  "You two," the woman said, firmly.

  But they were already on the stairs, and when the woman followed in pursuit, Cammie was ready—with the butt-end of her pistol, she hit the woman across the temple. It was enough to knock her down, though not unconscious. She was about to make a sound, so Diego stepped up and put her in a choke hold he’d learned early on during his time on the streets. Since she was already woozy from the pistol hit, he had her out in about te
n seconds.

  Unfortunately, it was enough time for the others to wonder where she’d gone.

  "Selena?" a man said. "Where’d you run off to?"

  Diego darted back around to the rear of the stairs and, while it wasn’t optimal, ran back and dragged the unconscious Selena into the shadows. Cammie followed, and they both ducked there as a form appeared in the doorway, looked around, and then left.

  "This was your plan?" Diego asked.

  "Not exactly," she admitted. "But…." She checked the woman, and found a nice k-bar knife and an extra pistol. She kept the first for herself and tossed Diego the pistol, since she already had one.

  "Forget about her," a voice said from the tented area. "We need to prepare the second wave. When the first attack breaches the walls, she’s either with us, or she’ll be answering to Commander Strake."

  "So you mean with us, or dead," the other man said.

  "I wouldn’t be so sure. Not right away anyway."

  Cammie looked at Diego with wide, curious eyes and mouthed, "Second wave? Attack?"

  His nostrils were already flared with horrified excitement. He had a feeling he knew what was happening.

  "Quietly," he said, and then snuck out and made his way up the stairs—the outside of his foot rolled to the inside to help stay silent.

  Soon they reached the next floor, and from here he looked down from the window and saw the tent. Then he heard Cammie from the other side hissing, "You have got to come see this."

  He rushed over, but when he joined her at the window, he nearly fell back. Not only was there a large force of soldiers, all dressed just as they were, but in the distance they could see Old Manhattan.

  Billowing, black smoke rose up from one section of the wall, and even from here they could hear the echoes of gunfire.

  Old Manhattan was under siege.

  Enforcer HQ

  Valerie pushed past the crowd surrounding Enforcer HQ, not even bothering to acknowledge the guard in her way who apparently didn’t recognize her.

  "Give me a status update," she shouted, storming in and finding Peterson in the lobby giving directions to his men.