The Raven Gang (Noble Animals Book 1)

by Brendan Walsh

  “I take full responsibility for the failure to retrieve the item. It will be found. Even if they all need to pay with their lives.”

  “Good. That’s good to hear.” There was a brief silence while Elder waited for the man to speak once again. After knowing Patane for nearly a decade, he could tell when something was off. “I’m sensing there’s something else you’d like to tell me.”

  “Well, yes, sir, we.... we have good reasons to believe that subject zero is alive.”

  Elder’s face turned an explosive red. He swerved around and flung a wooden stool clear across the room, shattering the glass cabinet in the corner. Crinkled pieces of the destroyed cabinet flew ruthlessly across the corner. Patane flinched, even though he could teleport himself away in a split second.

  “Your department had one job! One job that you couldn’t do! Tell me now why I shouldn’t just have you replaced?” The doctor’s blond hair drooped messily from his tirade.

  The man didn’t supply an answer. Elder raised a palm to his eyes to calm himself. He would have seated himself if he had not thrown the only seat away. Once his anger depleted he put a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, old friend. I had not even been properly prepared for my own success. I will do everything to make sure you do not end up like Jefferson if it’s the last thing I do. This is only a minor setback in the operation. Spread the word: if you see subject zero, kill it on sight. The same goes for the fugitives.”

  The man smiled at his boss. “It will be done, sir.”

  With a flick of the switch the lights returned and the captain was somewhere miles away. Elder was alone. He knew it. Subject Zero surely knew it. The game was getting interesting.

  The four fugitives basically did nothing in their first day. They hadn’t woken up until ten o’clock. Once they were fully conscious Slate decided to be the one driving to the nearest fast food restaurant to get everyone breakfast. He made sure to keep his skin covered, in case any photos of them were public. At the base, they mostly discussed the option of leaving the cabin, bearing in mind the consequences. Regardless of what they proposed, it all ended with them staying unsure and continuing to do nothing.

  Now it was night. All the light left was the menacing glow reflected off the moon above, giving them a last beam of light in a depleted day.

  Sitting on the couch, Slate picked up the TV remote and pressed the ‘on’ button. The contents became clear as Johnny returned inside from a brief walk.

  “Slate, I don’t think this is a very good time to be watching anything.”

  “I know,” Slate responded with annoyance. “I’m checking the news stations. Maybe there’s an update on the Dr. Black murder. I mean, maybe they found the right guys.”

  He approached the couch as Slate continued surfing. “How are you? I mean, with everything going on?”

  “Just as good as Patrick and Gary. At least we were able to sleep last night.”

  Slate settled on a local city station. The bottom caption read ‘Breaking News’. The setting was the outside an S.F.P.D. station. Immediately to the left stood two officials and a civilian standing off on his own. The first detective was a man who appeared about fifty sporting familiar police officer attire. He greeted the gathered crowd through a microphone.

  “I think I found something. Get Patrick and Gary!”

  Johnny dashed to the door and called for them both to hurry back. Gary came in first. Patrick arrived seconds behind him. The four gathered tightly around the television as Slate raised the speaker volume.

  “In the wake of the latest crime we must now inform all of the good people of the city of San Francisco to be constantly on the lookout for four dangerous criminals”. The man identified himself as long time Detective John Hunter, a veteran of the San Francisco police force, which stole the focus from Slate.

  “My God, you guys, that’s Lindsey’s father! He’s the guy they got on our case!”

  Patrick grunted. “Funny how it works out.”

  Both were promptly hushed by Johnny. “We have yet to identify any of these four suspects, though they were last spotted by observant locals completing a robbery of a South San Francisco home of resident Tom Frost. Mr. Frost reported hearing four voices in his home. One of them had been discussing a party and had specifically mentioned the Dr. Black’s name. He did not hear anymore because a sneaky fifth one had thrown him down the stairs.” The detective paused to clear his throat, and to let the information sink in. “They stole a small series of firearms ranging from pistols to illegal submachine guns for which the resident is now being fully charged with possession of. To those who are still unaware, their first crime was the brutal murder of a Dr. Jefferson Black, who was killed at a party in his own home. Ladies and gentleman,” he gazed solemnly into the crowd before him, absorbing emotions from everyone. “because of the shocking violence of the murder, we believe these people to be depraved and border on the psychopathic. So far no exact motive for the crime is suspected and no murder weapon has been found. We believe the murderers wanted to spread a message, of which we are still in the dark, but written on the wall in the victim’s blood was the word ‘Nevermore’.

  The gang wasn’t aware of that grisly detail, and their dry expressions said it all. The strangeness would not cease. “We don’t know their exact location, though it is most likely they are still in the South San Francisco area. No officer on duty has reported seeing their Volvo exiting the jurisdiction of the city. We urge all of you to remember to set your home alarms and lock your doors. Criminals like this tend to be active only at night. Stay safe tonight we don’t know what this group called....The Raven Gang will do next.”

  “We have a name now?” Patrick said.

  “This just keeps getting better.” Gary added bitterly.

  Finished, the detective stepped away from view and the younger detective took the microphone. She announced she would be answering any questions regarding the case. Meanwhile the four fugitives discussed their options. They couldn’t turn themselves in without the other mysterious party killing them. Yet they couldn’t keep hiding forever. Just then, a new man took to the podium. He had an unorthodox appearance, which got everyone’s attention. He identified himself as Dr. Samuel Elder, the boss and close friend of the late Dr. Black. At his introduction Gary pulled something out from his pocket.

  “I’ve heard of this guy. I found his card at the house.” He waved the card so everyone could see.

  After the eulogy-like greeting, he confessed he had donated a considerable sum to the police department in support of the investigation and urged others to do the same. Lastly, he assured everyone that the criminal group known as The Raven Gang would be caught and brought to justice. Slate clicked off the screen. They had seen enough of that.

  In the corner by the arm of the couch, Johnny nervously fiddled his hair. “Well, I’m sure glad we watched that.”

  “The Raven Gang?” Gary sounded to himself. “It does have a nice ring to it. I guess we have some idea of what to do next.”

  “Now you care about working with us?” snapped Patrick. “Because I can remember a couple speeches you made that suggested otherwise.”

  “Stay away from the bottles, guy, you may hurt someone again.”

  “You two!” Slate said forcefully, rising from his seat. “Look. If we want any chance of actually getting out of this in one piece, whenever that day comes, we need to get along. So please. For the sake of the rest of us, get along.” The two exchanged unpleasant glances before reluctantly agreeing.

  The next half hour slowly dragged by. The most movement that occurred was when Johnny plugged in a coffee machine he found in a cabinet. It vibrated like jackhammer and produced coffee that tasted like asphalt. But they all needed it. No one wanted to go another night without a plan.

  In a grim way, their prayers were answered when a sudden flash struck them in th
e face through the dark windows. One thick light beam soon split into two independent ones, whose controllers were using to survey the small cabin.

  Patrick and the three others dove from their seats, taking refuge under the window. “Someone’s here! No one speak!”

  They obeyed. Seconds later the sound of footfalls grew as leaves outside cracked under the men’s advancing boots. The movement upon the muddy ground came to an abrupt stop, as the caterwaul of an angry megaphone pierced the night. “ATTENTION: RAVEN GANG! THIS IS THE S.F.P.D. IT’S OVER. WE FOUND THE STOLEN CAR. WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. JUST COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND THINGS WON’T NEED TO GET MESSY.”

  It was as if the cabin walls began to march inward. The four struggled to hide themselves from sight. The bright beams grew larger as the officers approached the hideout.

  “What the hell do we do?” Patrick whispered.

  “I say we turn ourselves over to the cops.” Gary hushed back.

  “What good will that do?”

  Slate joined in. “He’s right. If we go with them we can tell them our story. Granted, they may not believe a word we say, but maybe they can give us good protection.”

  “Yeah.” Gary confirmed. “They’ve got us either way. Better to just go peacefully.”

  As the voice from the megaphone ruthlessly rang, the gang knew their hourglass was empty, and their choice was made. They slowly shuffled themselves out the door. The lights blinded them as if they all were stars of a stage.

  The chief officer shoved an impatient hand behind Patrick’s head into the backseat. He felt the secure grasp of the handcuffed wrists as he was seated among Gary and Slate. Johnny was forced in right after, making the back row like a can of sardines.

  The officers simultaneously seated themselves. The driver, a black male likely in his late twenties with a thin mustache, nodded accordingly to his partner, a slightly older Caucasian with a menacing glare in his almond eyes, and the car snickered to life as if sensing the gang’s fear.

  “Seems we caught ourselves some Billy the kids.” sneered the passenger officer. His voice sounded just same without the muffled megaphone. “Only with much less talent.”

  “The station’s going to have a field day when we bring you gang in.” said the driver. “I assure you the chief’s going to want a private word with you.”

  “Great. We can talk to him.” Slate blurted mindlessly. “We want to tell him our story. Maybe he’ll help us.”

  The driver laughed. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do. But he really does look forward to meeting you.”

  The detainees attentively occupied their own worries silently. Talking to the drivers was getting nowhere. Patrick shifted his gaze toward the sprinting lights of the cars on the San Francisco road. A sinister greyish glow of the moon effortlessly followed the moving car, as if it had no other job to do.

  Ahead a Volkswagen was going 15 mph below the speed limit. “Yeah. We got them. No issue.” the driver spoke in a communicator as he passed the impeding car. “We’ll get there soon.”

  The rest of the cars scrambled away into the residential exits. In no time the road became a vacant, lowly lit path. To Patrick’s left, Slate’s had his eyes wide open, attentively surveying outside world. While he never spent much time in this area of the city, he familiarized himself with the roads leaving and entering the mainland. Ahead a new sign grew into sight. Slate mouthed its name over and over again. Their night was about to get so much worse. He fearfully spoke out.

  “Broadview? Broadview is taking us in the other direction. We’re leaving San Francisco!” The other three sat themselves up for the ramblings. “Where the hell are we going?”

  The officers didn’t reply.

  He repeated: “Where the hell are we going?”

  “If I were you, kid, I’d sit back down and shut up.” snapped the passenger, followed by the menacing cock of a revolver which was now pointed right at him. “We still have a ways to go, so we’d appreciate it if you calmed down.”

  The cop car pulled off the road thirty minutes later. It was hard to tell how long for sure, since the night appeared timeless. The location was a nearly empty lot except for a very old and long building that could have once been a poor man’s home. Most of its former attractive features had been replaced by some obscene graffiti by local delinquents.

  The pavement ended under Patrick’s feet, and a rocky dirt road to nowhere began.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “No questions.” the driver said robotically.

  Slate bounced out of the car on one side, with Johnny and Gary on the other. The officer with the rough voice shoved them along with the front end of the pistol down the empty path. They reluctantly obeyed. Patrick felt a tremble conquer his knees as he walked the uneven path. He analyzed his friends’ expressions: Slate seemed just as terrified as he was, while Johnny’s eyes showed he thought of this as another uneasy scene that he could get out of with a joke. Gary had an expression that rarely changed. He probably thought of their current dilemma as progress because they weren’t just sitting around anymore.

  “So I’m guessing you guys aren’t cops?” Johnny asked, forcing a grin.

  “No, kid we’re not.”

  “We’re the people you were hiding from. Did a poor job, you know?” snared the other.

  Slate walked along. “How did you get the car?”

  “If you work for the right people you can get whatever you need.”

  The end of the lane was only visible by an inverted bulb on the old building. The edge of the light revealed a series of large dirt mounds. Area trees arched forward, as if they were interested in what was going on. Suddenly amongst the emptiness, Patrick felt the ghastly presence of something unnatural, or for the first time, there was the presence of nothing at all.

  Ahead, collapsing stones marked a visible slope in the ground. It took Patrick a couple seconds in the blackness to see what the dirt had formed. What he saw made his skin chill to ice, nearly scalding his bones.

  It was a large ditch.

  He knew they were never leaving the lot.

  “Wait!” Patrick turned around with both hands in the air. “You don’t need to kill us! We don’t know anything. We swear!”

  The passenger was nearly smiling. “Sorry kids, long story short, you should never have gone to that party.”

  “We’ll never tell anyone anything!” pleaded Slate. “Anything about Dr. Black!”

  “This goes way beyond the simple killing of that parasite. Thankfully, you’ll never know any of it.” The driver raised the revolver and cocked it into action. “Now, on your knees, Raven Gang.”

  “You actually think you’ll get away with this?” Gary barked.

  “We already have.” The man’s deep voice nearly sang. “In the name of the new world, you now die.”

  In one of his last moments, Patrick saw Gary staring defiantly at their killers. His eyes showed no fear, as if trying to cast a paralysis spell on the two. Then, almost by magic, something happened.

  From above the unyielding darkness, a cloaked figure swooped down. Before the officers could even lift their heads half way towards the sky the creature rammed them backwards with a tackle. The cracking of a neck snapping backwards like a twig followed as they settled lifelessly on in the dirt. Whatever just saved them wasted no time. It leaped back to where it came from, ignoring everything it just did.

  The four whose life licenses had just been renewed were speechless. Once they could move again they hurried to the two men that were on the ground. The passenger’s death wasn’t evident. His neck was almost bent at a 180-degree angle, his nose smothered against the dirt and his neck bone bulging out uncompounded in the front. The driver didn’t look much better.

  The gang faced each other, looking for words.

  “Unbelievable.”
Patrick brokenly stuttered. “It… it just saved our lives.”

  A rustling from above caught their attention. The gang turned towards the trees.

  “Whatever it was, it’s still here. We need to get it down here.” Johnny squinted at the branches. “It can’t just leave like that.”

  As they approached the looming trees the scratching of the leaves stopped, as if the figure beneath the black wanted them to think it was no longer there. But that didn’t stop their unordered approach.

  “Hello?” Patrick called out, leaning forward for a better view. “Hey, whoever you are, please come out. Don’t be afraid.”

  At his call an ominous pair of yellow eyes blinked open. Patrick doubled backwards. Slate caught his shoulder to keep him still. As the eyes flashed open and closed Gary dragged a foot back in the dirt, retreating.

  “What the hell are you?” Gary demanded. He clutched his arms under his chest, as if keeping warm.

  Without much energy, the hiding creature slowly fluttered to the ground. Upon landing it stumbled like a drunk man in a tilted tavern. With an anterior swipe of its wing it gained enough traction to stand securely. It was completely dressed in black fur, providing the illusion of hovering eyes. Even in its uneven position it was only inches shorter than the average person.

  It bore the same ears and long wings as Slate’s sketch. It didn’t take note of the four rudely staring people until it turned its head to face them properly. Patrick took a step backward as if the creature’s glare had physical force. It took two stumbling steps with its talon-like feet, watching them inquisitively. The raven gang fought to show no fear. Whatever the animal was, it was on their side.

  “That thing,” Slate stammered. “That’s the thing that threw Gary’s uncle down the stairs.” The creature turned to Slate, looking offended by his label.

  “It’s a very...very big bat.” Patrick said without thinking.

  In front of them the silhouette of the figure was fully captured by the dim lighting. The creature vertically nodded its head up and down, indicating a ‘yes’ in response to Patrick’s comment.