Bedlam: Fourth Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  “So,” David said before the conversation went off-track, “it’s been a while, Nameless. What brings you here today?”

  It really has been a while. The Nameless took a nearby chair and pulled it into the center of the room. He sat. “Can you guess why I am here?” he asked SIM with a half-smile. The man liked bragging about how smart he was. An occasional test here and there couldn’t hurt.

  “I’m not psychic, you know?” said SIM. His expression was still one of amusement. “I merely conclude. Better than anyone else who has ever concluded, yes, but that still doesn’t make me a mind reader.”

  The Nameless’ smile widened. “So you are not up to the task, then?”

  “Politics,” SIM answered.

  “Too broad,” the Nameless said. “What kind of politics?”

  SIM straightened himself up, wrapping one of his arms around his waist. He let the other one rest on it and pressed a finger against his chin.

  “Enough of this crap already,” David interrupted their game. Unlike the Nameless, he regularly worked with SIM. This was nothing new for him. “We’re gonna be using our brains all night long, Nameless. If you want us to use them on something else, at least let it be useful. So what is this about?”

  The Nameless’ temples pulsated. Whatever it was that permeated the room seemed to have been working its magic. His mind was as focused as it had ever been. Might as well put this clarity to use.

  “Emile has approached me,” he said. “Yes, the head of the New Voodoo Movement, or whatever is left of it. As you both already know, they are powerless. Their magic dried up back when the nukes detonated around New Orleans.” He took another look at SIM, whose expression was no longer one of amusement.

  “A handful of separate groups, led by some of the Movement’s priests, are trying to regain some of their magic,” he continued. “And before you two start showing signs of paranoia, no, they will not succeed. Not even Emile places any hope in these new rituals they are trying to invent.” His stare drifted from SIM back to David.

  “I don’t like where this is going,” the governor said.

  “He wants us to discourage cops from prying into the Order’s business,” SIM said.

  “Is he?” David said as he faced the Nameless. “Are you?”

  “I am,” the Nameless said. “These people stood by us, and that has cost them everything. The least we could do is stop treating them as potential enemies. Show some trust.”

  “And if some of this stuff ends up working?” David asked. “What do we do then? Get trampled by the living dead?”

  “If it comes to that,” the Nameless said, “I will crush what is left of the Movement myself. I have killed their leader before, in the heart of their power even. Or have you already forgotten?”

  “I remember,” David grumbled, somewhat in thought. “As you say, Sheriff. From this moment on, all non-violent actions of the Movement’s priests will be dealt with by looking the other way.” He jotted something on a nearby paper. “Good enough?”

  “Yes,” the Nameless said. “Thank you, David.”

  “No problem,” David said, dropping the pen back on the desk. “Though I must admit I expected you to be here over something else.”

  “Such as?”

  David gestured to SIM. “Show it to him.”

  SIM already had an envelope ready. In contrast to the grey ones in common use, this one was plainly white. Even in the chemical aroma of the office, the envelope smelled of potent incense.

  “I’d give it to you,” said SIM, “but I assume you want the summary.”

  Despite how much the Nameless enjoyed challenging SIM’s assumptions, this time that would be a waste of time and effort. He was no longer in charge of Babylon. There was no need for him to inspect the letter for intricacies and hidden meanings. When it came to that particular kind of head-cracking, he was free of it now.

  “Summary, please,” he said.

  “As you’ve probably guessed, it’s from the White City,” SIM said. “And yes, they are ready to start a dialogue.”

  The Nameless’ nostrils tightened. “After a year of silence? Why open up now?”

  David spoke before SIM could. “No one’s opening up. At least, as far as we know. Emissaries are due to arrive in four days or so. We’ve no idea what they want to talk about.”

  The Nameless’ eyes flashed over the letter again. “Could this be a suicide attack? A leftover nuke, perhaps?”

  “It might be,” SIM said, “but I doubt it. During the time I spent as their captive, I made special care never to let anyone learn a single shred of my knowledge on nuclear devices. As always, my goal was to save as many lives as possible. Teaching some madman a way of bringing forth Doomsday 2 ran contrary to my goal.”

  “So there could be no one else?” the Nameless asked. “No surviving technician who would be capable of setting these things off?”

  “I’d like to say that was impossible,” SIM said, “but there is always a chance, Nameless. Yes, it’s possible that they’ve found someone else. Improbable, but possible.”

  “Do we have countermeasures for this?” the Nameless asked.

  “Of course we do,” David said. He fumbled through his drawers, but gave up after some ten seconds or so. “I could swear it was here. No matter. We’ve got some machines, Nameless. They’re called Geiger counters, and we’ll be outfitting each scouting team with at least one of those. When these emissaries are spotted, both they and their luggage will be inspected as thoroughly as possible, and only then will they be allowed to proceed toward the city. Thus, no suicide attack.”

  SIM nodded in confirmation.

  “And I reckon I will be in charge of security,” the Nameless said.

  “Among other things,” said David. “You and Rush are the symbols of our victory. We should show you off. You might not exactly be our lord anymore, but that doesn’t make you any less of a legend.”

  The Nameless considered his friend’s words. “I agree. If these people truly want to open up a line of communication, then we should try and make it as beneficial for us as possible. And few things would help us achieve that better than the living monument of their defeat: me.”

  “Your humility is your finest trait,” SIM said.

  The Nameless ignored his comment. He got enough of that from Rush. Instead, he posed a question: “How does this make you feel, SIM? These people did not exactly give you their best treatment in the past.”

  “My feelings are irrelevant,” SIM said with a slight hint of mockery. “We are here to improve our people’s lives. And if whatever these emissaries have in mind can lead to an improvement in, say, trade, then there can be no room for hesitation. Assuming we all do our jobs, this visit should prove a productive affair for each present party.” He dragged a knuckle over the side of his nose, delaying the conclusion for a single moment. “Even for them.”

  “It’s settled, then,” David said, his stare falling back on his desk before he looked at the Nameless again. “I’d love to talk more and all, but we’ve barely got any breathing room here. All this stuff isn’t gonna sort itself out.”

  “Of course,” the Nameless said. He turned toward the door, approached it, and extended a hand. He stopped for a moment. “How is Patricia doing?”

  “She’s in school,” David said. “The best one we’ve got. Well, not as good as I had before this shitshow, but what can you do?”

  Nothing, the Nameless thought. “I am glad.”

  “Smart kid,” SIM said. “I see a bright future for that one.”

  “Hopefully the future will be bright for us all,” the Nameless said as he exited the office. If the two men had anything to add, he didn’t hear it.

  ***

  Back on ground floor, he Nameless was halfway up to the gate when a familiar-looking guard broke formation and started approaching from the right. The man was tall, shaved bald, and astoundingly familiar.

  “Max?” The Nameless stopped in his track
s. It had been a year and a half since last he’d seen the man, and they didn’t part on the best of terms. From the looks of things, though, the former cage fighter seemed to be doing well.

  “Bones,” Max said once they stood eye to eye. “Nameless. Sheriff. What do I even call you?”

  “Whatever you feel like,” the Nameless said. The distortion caused by the Nameless seizing power had a strong negative effect on Max’s life. Seeing him like this was no small relief.

  “I see you’re as friendly as ever,” Max said. “Yeah, good to see you too, Sheriff.”

  “Forgive my lack of friendliness.” The Nameless stopped moving and extended a hand. Max took it and they shook, surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. “Forgive… a whole lot of things, really,” he added.

  “All in the past,” Max nodded. With his free hand, he gestured to where the Nameless was originally heading. “For better or worse, you’ve won. It’s over, all of it, and we’re now free to get on with our lives.”

  “Yes, lives…” the Nameless pronounced the word slowly. “Those of us who still have them.” He released Max’s hand and they both proceeded toward the gate.

  Max raised both eyebrows. “We’re stronger than you think, you know? Us regular guys. No telling how long you can keep kicking us before we stop getting up. It’s kind of disturbing, really.”

  “And then there were other kinds of losses,” the Nameless said. “Like the way you lost Andrea.”

  Max smiled as he flashed his right hand. On his ring finger, a thin circle of metal gleamed auspiciously. “And now I got her back. Told ya, man. We rise. We recover. We rebuild.”

  Even though the Nameless didn’t want to, he still remembered Lydia, the enigmatic yet warm-hearted woman whom he never did get a chance to fully understand. The things that could have been, he thought. Yet another life snuffed out. She would never rise, recover, or rebuild.

  “What is Andrea up to these days?” he asked. “Has she joined the guard as well?”

  “Naw,” Max said. He flashed his ring again. “Metallurgy’s her thing now, and from what I see, she’s more than a little good at it. Keeps suggestin’ I join in, but I don’t think I can do it. Afraid I’m too much of a people person. Take me away from company and I slowly start fallin’ apart.”

  Not dissimilar to me and conflict, the Nameless thought.

  “Yeah, we’ve got our differences,” Max continued. “But we make it work. Say…” He carefully shoved the Nameless with his shoulder. “How’re you doing? Heard you’re hitting it off with that colorful little firecracker.”

  “Rush, yes,” the Nameless said. “We have been living together for a good while.”

  “How is she?” Max asked, wide-eyed.

  “This might surprise you,” the Nameless said, “but we do not really have any trouble. As abnormal as we both are, our insanities seem to be compatible. At least for now.”

  They almost reached the gate when Max spoke again. “Say, man… this might be a bit uncomfortable, but…” He swallowed. “Is it true that she’s juicin’? I mean it’s not up to me to tell you or your woman what you should or shouldn’t do. I’m just worried, is all. There’s more than a little word going around.”

  “That is” —the Nameless slowed down as he approached the other guards— “a complicated question with a complicated answer.”

  “That’s not complicated,” Max said, himself no longer moving. “In fact, it’s not even an answer.”

  “Maybe not,” the Nameless said as he went toward the opening door. “But it is all you are going to get.”

  “Understood, Boss,” Max snorted. He didn’t follow the Nameless out.

  Chapter Five

  The Nameless was in a dry, dark hallway, and could barely make out a thing. His heart beat erratically. Given there were no windows or large cracks in the walls, it was a miracle that he wasn’t completely blind. He turned left and right in an attempt at orientation. There wasn’t any difference no matter where he looked.

  A lone coherent thought phased through his head: I have been here before. Between his rapid breathing and teeth clenched so hard they hurt, that moment of clarity evaporated almost instantly.

  Something moved to his left.

  In sheer panic, the Nameless turned toward the sound. What he saw (or rather, didn’t see) almost paralyzed him on the spot. Somewhere at the far end of the hallway, a piece of inky blackness was slithering in his direction.

  The malice it gave off was almost tangible.

  ***

  He sprang back into consciousness, slamming both hands against the bed and the pillow to his left.

  Rush? He rocked his left hand up as he realized to his relief that he’d hit nothing but mattress. Where is she?

  “Bones?” Rush’s voice reached him before he had the time to call. It seemed to be coming from the living room. “You awake?”

  The Nameless quickly caught a glimpse of the shut window. Judging by the way sunlight seeped in, in it was likely early in the morning.

  “Yes,” he said as he tried to remember the nightmare. Like so many others, this one had evaporated into nothing.

  The smell of coffee reached his nose, and he turned toward the doorway just in time to see Rush enter. She hadn’t donned her fishnets yet, and the upper part of her body was covered with one of those baggy white t-shirts she liked sleeping in. Both her hands were occupied; there was a smoldering mug in each.

  “Thought I’d surprise you.” She smiled as she approached the bed and sat on it.

  “You did,” said the Nameless. “I do not recall ever seeing you awake at this hour. Not without something out of the ordinary causing it. Like an alert or unplanned patrol.”

  “Been thinkin’ about what you said.” She handed him the larger of the two cups. “About this whole ‘Church coming’ thing, and all that.”

  “Have you, now?” The Nameless blew on his cup, then took a sip. It was neither too hot, nor lukewarm.

  “Yup,” Rush said, sipping her own coffee. “So… what’s the plan, tac-genius?”

  The Nameless took a substantial chug. “There isn’t one. Or rather, it is not needed.”

  Rush raised both eyebrows, giving the Nameless a better look at those violet eyes of hers. “’Scuse me?”

  “No need to be so surprised,” said the Nameless. “That which they called the True Church of America lies defeated and more than a little dead. And if Emile and the Movement’s priests are any indication, the Church’s Saints have likewise lost all their power.”

  “Yeah, no need to tell me that,” Rush said. “One moment that Malachi guy was indestructible. The next, he was mush. I think the mush became a zombie then, but I guess that part doesn’t matter.”

  The Nameless downed his coffee in another chug, smiling ever so slightly. Too bad I never got to finish him off myself. No matter. All things considered, it was a wonder everything turned out as well as it did. For us, at least.

  “You mentioned a nun before,” Rush said.

  “Yes. And a priest,” the Nameless added. “The two of them are, as far as I know, the Church’s sole remaining Saints. And again, if they are anything like Emile, they are not taking their powerlessness well.”

  “So they’re leading that nuthouse then?” Rush asked. “Or d’you think we’ll be seeing them when this whole friend-wagon arrives?”

  “I do not know,” the Nameless said as he placed the empty mug on the nearby cupboard. “Time will tell how much sway, if any, they have over that headless beast.”

  Some five seconds passed.

  “Sooo…” Rush slammed her own mug near the Nameless’. “Wanna hit the town tonight?”

  The Nameless raised an eyebrow. “As in, a date?”

  Rush nodded. “Yup. As in a date.”

  The Nameless pressed his back against the pillow behind him. “I thought you said you were content.”

  “Oh.” Rush leaned in, her face an inch away from his. “I did, and I am, Bones. I just w
anna see how the big, bad war god deals with some modern-day music!”

  “So that’s what you call that drivel.” The Nameless ground through an artificial-looking smile. “I never would have guessed.”

  ***

  The night came quickly, though the Nameless wished it hadn’t.

  With hands in both pockets, he stood in front of his home, wearing one of his higher-quality suits. Aside from the white shirt underneath, everything on him was black.

  Rush may have been fast, but she nevertheless took her time getting ready. Why that was so, he couldn’t tell. She never wore makeup as far as the Nameless knew.

  Eventually the front door opened, and she finally stepped out. In contrast to her usual attire, this time Rush’s fishnets were white, as were her boots and bolero jacket. Instead of the usual fingerless pair, she wore intact gloves. For the Nameless, this was a fresh sight.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked as she approached the fence.

  “Here ‘n there.” Rush opened the gate, stepped out, then shut it behind her. “Take me out some more and I might consider showin’ ya more.”

  The Nameless smiled as he extended a hand. “I might take you up on that offer.”

  “You should,” Rush said as she accepted it. “Not like it’s for anyone else to enjoy.”

  Holding hands, the two ventured out into the night. Rush led the way. It took almost half an hour for them to reach their destination, and when they did the Nameless couldn’t help but comment.

  He pointed to the flashing neon sign above what might have been a storehouse in another time. “The End?”

  “Of the line, of boredom, of the world.” Rush grinned. “Take your pick.”

  “A place for the young, of course,” the Nameless said, disregarding her quip. There was a gathering of some fifteen people near the front door. They were adorned in chains, leather, and everything from silk to wool.