“Other kids come in here?” said Luumis. He thought that Darel found out about this chapter of the Dove’s revolution only because he was such an extraordinary hacker.
“No, I mean, well, Lumi, that’s just not the point, now, is it? The point is...”
Luumis listened to the man berate him for at least half an hour, maybe longer. Eventually, when it was obvious that Luumis felt so bad that he could not speak, could barely even think, Nicholas threw him a morsel: He would let him activate the bomb at a power plant. “Not the nuclear plant. Not even a big plant, mind you,” said Nicholas. “I’d hate to see you embarrass yourself too much, but this’ll at least get us some air time. Is that alright, big boss man? Think you can handle that?”
Luumis nodded lamely. His legs ached very badly. No one had offered him a chair.
“Get out of here,” said Nicholas. He pushed the bag to the edge of the desk.
Luumis picked it up. It felt heavier than ever. He glanced up at the guard’s eyes. He seemed very strong. Luumis wished that... no, he would show them. He might not look like it, but he was incredibly strong, stronger than any of them. They were just cogs in a machine, no different from the people they despised. But Luumis - he was the Lord of the Hunt.
* * *
Today, not so good. Met Aegis’s wife today. Ugh! Then, just when he got rid of her, I met his secretary. Double ugh! Now Aegis isn’t the best looking man in the world, but he’s got a good heart, I think. His secretary was the opposite. He was handsome like one of Haven’s movie stars, but I think he’s some kind of snake on the inside. He looked at me like he just wanted me to disappear!
-from Rachek’s Red Diary
* * *
“Alright, old-timer,” said Maxil, “it’s way past time for you to get some sun.”
Agmar looked up from the floor, his eyes bleary. Maxil stood in the hallway, legs apart, every inch of his five-foot frame severely commanding.
“Nuh!” said Agmar, turning back to his book.
“Agmar, you’ve had your face in that book for over a week now. Rachek’s forgotten you exist, I never see you, and Brad says he’s coming back tomorrow and I don’t want him to see you crouching in the corner like some kinda retarded psychopath...”
“I’m busy, boy,” said Agmar, not looking at him.
“Listen, old man.” Maxil entered the room. Agmar glanced at him and saw that his hair had been neatly cut. He wore some sort of suit, very simple, but nice. Maxil stood before him a moment, then sat on the bed nearby. “Agmar, you’re not taking full advantage of all the stuff this place has to offer. If Wodi had talked about half of what’s goin’ on here, I wouldn’t have believed him. You know what I did today?”
Agmar grunted.
“I signed up for classes at their University. I’ve sat in on a bunch of classes, and the city’s gonna pay for this stuff for a whole year for me. Agmar, you wouldn’t believe what they’re teaching! Stuff that makes the Smiths look like idiots, man! I signed up for classes on introductory calculus. I bet you don’t even know what that is, old-timer! Also I signed up for, uh, “Literature From the Sixteenth Generation,” which is like... oh man, I don’t even know where to begin. Just stories like you wouldn’t believe!”
Agmar turned a yellowed page. Maxil saw a small caricature of a bent-over figure with hollow eyes in the corner of the page.
“You know it’s snowing outside? But the sun is shining so bright, and the clouds... come on, Ag, let’s go see it! We’ll head to a market and...”
“In a minute,” Agmar said quietly.
“Brad says Wodi’s up and about. Remember, he was sick? Well, I got his address, so we can go... are you even listening?”
“Mn,” said Agmar. “Saw him already.”
“When?”
“Uhhhh...”
“Don’t know, do you? You don’t know anything but that book anymore, do you? You’re actin’ like some kind of primitive who’s never seen a printed page before! What is this crap, anyway?”
Maxil bent over and grabbed Agmar’s shoulder. Agmar pushed the boy away, said, “Primitive?! Not me, boy, I’m not the one who’s deluded! I’m not the one who’s being used! Them, boy - they’re the ones in the dark!”
“Them, who?”
“Them!” said Agmar, pointing all around. “These people, their silly beliefs... Max, boy, listen, they’re no different from the so-called primitives in the outside world! N-no different! They’re beliefs... my God, man... it’s set up in just such a way, it’s a... a work of genius... an evil so old, so all-encompassing... no way out...”
Maxil shook his head, wide-eyed. “Man, what are you talking about?”
“Just leave me alone, Maxil, just leave me alone...”
* * *
“Psycho?” said Wodan. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, just this guy in our group,” said Darel. “Name’s Luumis.”
“Luumis Lamsang?”
“You know him?”
“I had classes with him. We met the other night. He’s a little weird, but not...”
“Oh, man,” said Darel. “You better believe the guy’s a real nutball. A total nutcase. A real ticking time-bomb.”
“Darel,” said Wodan, “it’s time you told me about the list of names you sent me. I thought the list was going to be in the emails. It’s not.”
“No...” said Darel, finishing off another beer. “No, it’s not.” He went to a drawer and sifted through its contents. “That list... it only exists in hard-copy.”
“Let me see it,” said Wodan. His heart began to thunder in his chest.
Darel handed him a piece of paper covered in a pale stain. In a strange handwriting, both flowery and spidery, Wodan read:
List of People who have to Die
Peter Remus
Mercule Hermann
Iduna Deira
. . . Salem Jules
. . . Marlon Ziello
. . . Luumis Lamsang
Saul Hargis
“This is ridiculous,” said Wodan, pushing the thing away, ignoring a thousand alarms screaming in his head.
“You should probably leave before Luumis comes back,” said Darel.
“Why should I care if he sees me here?” said Wodan, burning inside.
“Cause you, like, took his place, man. He might be mad...”
“Took his place? Everyone on this list is dead, and he would be, too, if I hadn’t... but Darel, this thing is ridiculous! What the hell is this?! ‘List of people who have to die’... what the hell is that?!”
Darel shrugged and took the paper from Wodan, holding it carefully.
“Darel! Tell me now, be honest, did you make this crazy thing up? Did Luumis?”
“I didn’t, I can promise you that.”
Something was flaring in Wodan, some instinct - he was missing something.
He tried to get his mind back on track, and said, “Darel, you can tell me if… did you… I mean, this note, it’s okay if you-”
“I didn’t make it up, man, I promise!”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know!”
“Where’d you get it, then?” said Wodan. “How’d you come by this ridiculous thing?”
“Luumis found it,” said Darel.
Wodan took the paper from him again and studied it. He was missing something.
“Where’d Luumis come by it?” said Wodan, quietly, stabbing his eyes into the thing.
“Wouldn’t tell me,” said Darel. “He wouldn’t say. But after he found that thing, he got pretty paranoid. He used to spend a lotta time away from here, who knows where. He went hiking like a month ago. Really, I think he was just hiding from whoever made this list.”
“Went hiking,” said Wodan, full of darkness. “Around the same time I went hiking. Around the same area, I bet.”
“West woods?” said Darel.
Wodan nodded slowly.
“Shit, man... you know, you kinda look like Lumi.”
“I need to talk to him,” said Wodan, looking up from the paper. Something about it was still tugging at his mind, a detail calling for attention.
“I dunno man, Lumi might get pissed I showed it to you.”
“Who cares if he gets pissed? If this thing is real, then he owes me. He owes me big.”
“And if it’s fake?”
“No harm, no foul,” said Wodan, gritting his teeth.
“Alright, whatever,” said Darel. “If he’s gonna get home, it’ll be soon.” He led Wodan to the main room. The two sat across from each other on beaten-up couches. They looked at one another, then looked away. Minutes stretched by. It was already later than Wodan liked. It soon grew dark outside. Snow piled up in the windowsills. Darel put on a record, some kind of stoner music that droned on. Half an hour crawled by. Darel drank part of another beer, then laid his head back and snored lightly. Wodan rested his eyes. An hour, an hour and a half. It didn’t seem Luumis would be back anytime soon. The energy Wodan had drawn from the strange situation left him in stages until he could no longer easily remember what he was doing there. He heard a guttural moan from the back room, then a yawn. He heard someone stirring. Unwilling to explain the situation to a new face, especially one with some kind of weird “authority,” Wodan rose and left the apartment.
* * *
The sun was setting as Luumis approached 312 Housing. Depression and rage wrestled in Luumis’s heart. He had half a plan to give Nicholas the finger, set the bomb, and run like hell. Blow all those bastards up...
He had gone to the power plant earlier in the day. He had asked someone about a job so he could scout out the place on the sly. A foreman told him they weren’t hiring, and Luumis had thought, I’ll show you who’s hiring and who’s not, clutching the bag at his side. Then he’d made the mistake of talking to someone on his lunch break. The guy had seemed alright enough. Some of his friends had joined them, and they all ended up talking. About sports, family troubles, then someone mentioned a new movie... after that, there was no way Luumis could set the bomb. Just no way.
The memories raced through his mind as he walked through the third floor hallway of 312 Housing. He saw no one. The place was completely silent. He knocked, waited, then went into Nicholas’s room. The place was dark and empty. He flicked on a light. He saw tape on the floor arranged in the patterns of bodies. Red stains on the floor and walls.
“Now what in the hell?” said Luumis.
He went back into the hallway. More taped impressions of dead men. He went into the next room and saw more of the same. He went to the stairwell and noticed a limp, torn yellow tape trailing to the floor which read, “DO NOT CROSS DO NOT CROSS DO NOT-”
Luumis realized that they were all dead. They had probably been killed by the Dove and his men, for being jackasses. He felt a great weight rise up from his heart, felt joy contort his face strangely. He jogged lightly down the stairs. He headed for a subway station. The bag at his side felt nearly weightless.
* * *
“Now you’ve got an excuse to get out of the house,” said Maxil.
“Wait... what?” said Agmar, looking up from the book. He realized then that Maxil had been talking for a while.
“Some guys are here to spray for rats,” said Maxil. “Reference what I was saying two seconds ago for further details.”
“Why would... what are they spraying on the rats?”
“Agmar!” said Maxil. “It’s something Havenders do, apparently. Some government types are here, and they say everyone in Haven has this crap done. Dudes come in, spray some kind of poison around the corners or whatever, and rats end up getting in it and die eventually. You weren’t listening at all, were you?”
“Well, kind of...”
“So we have to stay out of the house for a couple of hours while they spray, which gives us an excuse to see the snow outside. Cool?”
“Not really,” said Agmar, rising slowly and taking the Book of the Red with him.
* * *
Wodan took a train to his parents’ home, his own childhood home. He did it before he realized what he was doing. He could not get the absurd list out of his mind. Something about it hammered at his mind, insistent. He could have switched trains and returned to his lonely apartment, but he was so exhausted and frustrated that he decided seeing his parents was the only thing that could help. He could not remember any episodes that showed Girardo running to cry to his parents, but he was too beaten down to care.
His parents were not at home. All was dark. He heard his cat Tomkins meowing, padding toward him. His mother had brought him here after Wodan’s disappearance. Wodan knelt and petted him in the dark. Tomkins brushed his legs, mewling softly. Wodan left to see if his parents were at the grocery. He felt that he needed them badly right now. Just to see his father, to hear his mother’s voice...
* * *
Luumis sat on the train and refused to move as he passed up the stop for the University grounds. His unease only grew as he drew closer to the mockery called “home.” There was no way he could listen to Michonardo wax philosophical as he grew more and more drunk and forgot the basic rudiments of language, or listen to Darel brag about his technical knowledge using terminology that was way over his head. He felt better as the train sped north. The train took a sweeping curve under the mountains around the northern laborer’s section. Finally Luumis grew tired of sitting and got out at a random stop.
* * *
Wodan walked the wide halls of stone, looking at the shops. Some were still busy, and wouldn’t close for another hour or so. He planned to see his parents, hang out at the store for a minute, then leave with them and stay with them for the night. He saw Kyner’s just ahead. Even from this distance, he thought he could hear his father’s high-pitched, raucous voice. He felt warm and smiled.
* * *
Luumis stalked around the laborer’s area. He looked at the bright stores and their gaudy wares. He saw the workers just whoring away, saw people walking around, staring ahead. What were they thinking? Anything? Were they capable of thought? Something light and airy bubbled up in Luumis. It mixed with the dull burn that always accompanied him, that gnawing feeling. He used to call it anger, then stopped calling it anything once it had settled in and he’d gotten comfortable with it.
He started to laugh at the people. Only a few gave him curious looks. Others just kept milling around, clogging up the streets. He passed by a window and saw his reflection. So short, wiry - ugly! He glared at it. He decided not to look at anyone after that. Everybody was ugly, and he was sick of it. Sick of it all.
He saw a store up ahead. He saw some inbred laborers milling about. On a whim, he went inside.
* * *
Wodan went in and saw his father immediately. They hugged quickly, and Wodan smelled sweat on his father’s shoulders and neck.
“Come to take over, boy?” said Walter, laughing lightly.
“Thought I’d hang out a bit,” said Wodan, smiling. “Where’s Mama?”
“She went by Pelmer’s next door, just chattin’ them up. I’ll be done in a little, Wodi. I’ll let th’others worry about the closin’ stuff.”
“Okay! I’ll just kick around some.” The two parted and Wodan browsed around. He saw diapers, cereal... peanut butter... really, the idea of taking over the store didn’t seem so ridiculous. After what he’d seen today, maybe taking over a grocery store made more sense than anything else. Wodan entered the backroom, where things were gray, without decoration, and sat down on one of the cardboard boxes. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
* * *
Luumis ran from the store high on adrenaline. He flew by the people, legs pumping. Air whipped at his face. Effortless, effortless, and fear mixed with it all, it was a supercharged high, never felt anything like this, never before-
His hands pumped up and down, back and forth, empty. The weight of the terrible death-bag was gone.
* * *
“Lock yourself away in a secret place,�
�� Agmar read aloud. “Pray your desire to God. Reveal your wishes to the Him. God and God alone can judge the sincerity of your wish; God alone can make it reality.
“For to be able to make a prayer come true is to be God. To transform a wish into reality is to be God. Your hands prevent action. Your eyes blind you to truth. Only God can make evil disappear; only God can replace evil with righteousness.”
Agmar and Maxil sat on a park bench. Snow collected on granite columns and on their gray cloaks. Maxil looked away from his friend.
“A prayer is a set of words,” said Maxil. “You can’t affect reality by words alone.”
Agmar grunted.
“And it’s moral laziness to just wish something bad away,” said Maxil.
“That’s not true,” said Agmar. “Just listen to this part.”
* * *
Wodan heard his father’s muffled shout, something like, “Hey you! What’s the idea?” He rose, thinking his father might need some help. He exited the back room and made his way down an aisle - then there was a terrific concussive force, shelves and colored boxes leaped in a wash of violence, then silence, eyes shaking in his head, a wrenching pain, then darkness.
Chapter Eight
Red Book
Days Ago.
Aegis Vachs took Rachek to the Memory House. Six Office Guardians, unarmored Third Force soldiers trained to protect the Prime Minister at all costs and answerable only to Shem Udo, walked with them. Rachek was amazed at the grand statues, most of them at least five hundred years old, which showed the Founding Fathers, regal men in rustic wear with their hair tied back. She saw murals of the delving of the Department of Science, of the hunt of the wolves and, finally, the great slaughter of the pigs and salvation of their children. Journalists and cameramen hovered around them, listened to Rachek speak of outland ancestor worship, and laughed politely. Vachs spoke as if he had prepared speeches. But Rachek noted that he often laid his giant black orbs on her, and she knew that his time with her was more than just a photo-op.
Demonworld Book 2: The Pig Devils Page 13
