by M. K. Gibson
The people of Midheim didn’t fight and die today because they were afraid of losing their collection of mobile homes, scavenged possessions, and a damn fine mead hall. They fought for themselves, as The People of Midheim. That gave purpose. That had meaning. And sadly, that has consequence. Once the battalion of Hell’s troops didn’t report back, let alone the four full demon lords, an investigation would be underway. No outer town would make them look the fool. Once the demonic bureaucracy decided Midheim was a threat to their totalitarian rule, then a bigger force would eventually come. These people had a few weeks—a month tops—before a force so large came that they would have no way of winning.
Fuck.
“We have to help these people,” I said.
“Yes. Yes we do. What do you propose?” Grimm asked.
“I don’t know yet. They could move their town further away, but that would just prolong the inevitable. They would be found. And then they would all be wiped out down to the last man, woman, and child.”
“True.”
We sat in silence for a while. The gravity of the situation hung heavy.
“What do you think the demons are doing with the souls?” I asked Grimm just to break the tension.
“I am not completely sure. Someone is ripping souls away from people, leaving them in their catatonic state, and then maintaining said souls as a source of power.”
“Demons,” I said, and Grimm nodded.
“So, we must find where these reservoirs of souls are, and eliminate them,” Grimm said, taking a sip of the home-brewed whiskey. “If what Vali said is accurate, that the source of the soul is God, and now that source is gone, then the people left in this world will need every soul possible.”
“Do you believe him? Do you believe it? That people are walking around soulless because there is a deficit?” I asked.
“Possible,” Grimm said. “If it is as Vali said, people just living their lives in a dull state. Not since the demon wars has there been any new music, or art. No movies, no books. No more rebellions against the demon aristocracy. Alive but not living.”
“Alive but not living,” I echoed. “So someone back in the city is sucking souls out of people.”
“Yes. However, we have a more imminent issue at the moment.”
“Who sent the hit squad to Midheim?” I said, knowing this issue was coming.
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t Maz,” I said, trying to give my friend the benefit of the doubt.
“We shall see. Upon our return I will question him,” Grimm said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“We will question him,” I corrected.
Grimm and I stared at each other for a moment. A battle of wills, each of us resolute in our belief. After the silent bout, we both settled back in our chairs, each of us knowing we were right.
“What are we going to do about Midheim?” I asked.
“Midheim stands for now, and for now, that is all that matters,” Vali said as he and Vidar joined us on the porch. I poured the two angel gods a drink and the four of us clinked glasses. Vidar looked at my pack of smokes longingly.
“Go ahead,” I told the muscled god. After the battle today, he had earned a little bad habit. Vali shook his head and Vidar gave him the finger as he lit up.
“You both realize you cannot stay here,” Grimm said, cutting right to the point.
“Yes, we know. We have a little time. Not much, but enough to prepare,” Vali said.
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Vali said solemnly. “We have existed here for over a hundred years. Midheim wasn’t just an outertown; it was a middle finger to the demon princes of New Golgotha.”
I wanted to make fun of him a little. That kind of rah-rah speech was straight from bad comics and pulp novels. Yet the words rang true. I had never heard of an outertown existing that long. And if the powers that be sent four full regiments of troops, then the town was a thorn in their side. These people and their Norse angels deserved better than being scattered to the wastelands. Then, a thought occurred to me. And that thought became a plan.
A crazy, stupid plan.
“Hey Val,” I began, “I assume you have some kind of monitoring system, cameras feeding back into a central server?”
Vali gave me an odd look. “Yes. I am sad to say there was a time when crime and theft was on the rise, so we ensured a little peace through a big brother presence. Why?”
I stood, refilling their drinks and smiling a shit-eating grin one only gets when one knows he has somebody by the short and curlies.
“Just have someone burn me a copy of the battle. As many angles as possible. I have a plan. I am going to need it before Grimm and I head back.”
Vali and Vidar exchanged glances. Vidar just shrugged in an “ah, fuck it” kind of way. “I am not going to like it, am I?”
“Nope. But I think it’s for the best. Grimm and I reckon you have about a month before the demons come back in fuller force. We will be back before that. Just start organizing your people for a mass exodus. Oh, and I recommend digging up that shield. We may need it.”
Vali nodded in agreement. I could tell it was killing him. His people looked to him for leadership and at this moment he could only let them enjoy their deserved, but brief, victory. Soon, all they knew would be gone.
I put my hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.
“Trust me.”
That night I got pretty drunk with Grimm, Vidar, and Vali. We eventually went back inside and continued to toast and brag and exult and live. A couple young women took note of Grimm and me. I couldn’t speak for his royal Grimmness, but I had a hell of a night. One particular woman brought me an evening of passion and comfort. And I slept in peace for the first time in a long, long time.
Hell, I didn’t even learn her name.
The next morning, Father Grimm and I said our goodbyes to the people of Midheim. I winked at my fair lady friend. Taylor and his boy came by to say goodbye as well.
“TJ, go on now,” Taylor prodded the boy. The stubborn lad gave his dad a glare but came over and hugged my waist. His prepubescent nature rejected the notion of “hugging.”
“Thanks, mister. Thanks for saving us.” I honestly didn’t know how to react. I patted his head and shook Taylor’s hand when he offered it.
“You saved me and my boy. Gratitude hoss,” he said with a firm shake and a nod. I returned it. Holy hell, I felt a little choked up. I needed to hit the road before this maudlin shit made me look like a pansy. I caught Grimm grinning at me out of the corner of my eye. Bastard. A final farewell from Vic and Val and we powered up our vehicles and made our way back through the waste to his lair to question Maz.
It was a quiet two-day journey. Peaceful and uneventful. Which at the time seemed pleasant. It made the horror we faced next all the worse, when we crested the ridge overlooking the ancient amusement park Grimm used as a lair.
It was in flames.
Chapter Eighteen
Liquid Fire
Father Grimm stood by my side and we watched from the rocky overlook where we stopped. The amusement park lair he had annexed outside of New Golgotha was burning like a hellish effigy. Liquid fire clung to wood and metal alike. It burned hot. Whoever had done this had used some type of thermite napalm. It was both beautiful and horrid. That explained why Grimm had not had contact from T. I was at a loss for words. Grimm, however, was not.
“Demons!” he yelled, his resolve gone. He uttered something I can only assume was the ancient Angelic language. He gestured madly and his eyes were aglow in a soft but powerful blue-white light. Wind and rain came in from nowhere, ripping his Stetson from his head. The cold clear sunny morning was now dark and wet. Gale-force winds buffeted the flames while cold rain came in fat drops. The combination snuffed most of the flames; only the most stubborn bits clung weakly. The normally reserved man I had come to know was now enraged, flooded with emotion. I stood in the rain, taking it all
in. Not speaking.
When he seemed to calm for a moment, I placed my hands on his shoulder.
“It is just stuff, just a place,” I said. My words fell on deaf ears. He looked at me with cold eyes that said nothing. However, his left hook fell just below my right orbital socket. I reeled with the punch and brought my guard up. No follow-up punches came. Just his raging voice.
“Stuff? Do you think I care about my possessions?!” he asked incredulously. I realized what he was mad about.
The people.
When Maz and I first came here there were the homeless bums living above ground. His own Midheim.
I hadn’t given them much thought. Not then, certainly. But at that moment, they were all I could think about. Of course he cared about them. He had obviously been the one to provide them with food and shelter. Perhaps not in his inner sanctum, but places safe from the elements in the old amusement park. And the odds were that they had gone up with the rest of the place.
“No,” I said. “Of course it isn’t stuff. I’m sorry for being an idiot.” Grimm looked me in the eyes and I assume he saw the recognition. He nodded and I saw him visibly unclench.
I switched my eyes to their telescopic mode and surveyed the park. Slagged metal was everywhere, as was the occasional charred corpse. That fire wasn’t new. It had been burning for a couple of days. Possibly since right after we left. I saw there were large ripped holes in the ground, the kind from explosions. Someone had set off charges in the lair. I told Grimm of my findings, but if he heard me, he made no sign of it. He made his way back to his outrider and got his comm link.
“T, do you copy? T, come in,” Grimm said into the device. Nothing. Only a wavering static. I recognized the oscillation of the tone (don’t judge me, I am a bit of a tech nerd).
“That sounds like an ArcTech VK-7 Jammer. Scrambles all comms in a two-kilometer radius.”
“And why should I care about the make of the jammer?” Grimm asked me. It was painfully obvious the deaths of those people were weighing on him.
“Because they are very expensive and hard to come by. And, since it is still jamming, it is still here,” I replied.
“So?” Grimm said coldly.
Normally I would try and be a bit more subtle. And I did have respect for another’s loss. But now was not the time.
“So, since it is so rare and expensive and still here, it can be traced back to the assholes who did this!”
Grimm began to say something, but I cut him off. “No! You don’t get to speak just yet. I am sorry those people died. I really am. But we have to calm the fuck down and think. Now I want you to reach into your pants, find a pair, and cowboy the fuck up. Grief and regret come later. Now we act. You tracking me, chief?” This wasn’t the first time I had to give a soldier or an officer my own special “pep talk.”
For a moment he looked like he was going to strike me, and I was prepared for it. But I saw the desire leave him and he reached down, dusted off his hat, and placed it back on his head. He nodded to me and I returned. OK, good. We were back in business.
“Let me try something,” I said. I switched my eyes through the various modes until I found the right ones, miniature radio telescopes. Ones that allowed me to see the freq jammer’s interference waves. I tracked the source to the object, not far from the main gate of the amusement park. I hopped on my bike and sped down the ridge to the source. Grimm followed in his Outrider. Once I found it, I deactivated it, and almost immediately Father Grimm’s communicator was barking a signal.
“Come in, Grimm!” I heard T’s voice and Grimm relaxed a bit.
“T, where are you? Are you OK?” he asked.
“Da, da. Am fine. When demon’s troops come, day after you leave I use old protocol we draft up. Seal off library with fireproof doors. Same with lab. I evacuate with demon Maz and now resting comfortably.”
“Where?” Grimm repeated himself.
“Oh, am at Salem home. Da, figure it was good idea. Tell him that sorry for invasion of privacy and hacking woefully inept security.”
Grimm gave me a look.
“Yeah, yeah I heard him,” I said. Mom, Dad, are you online?
Yes, dear, we both are. We lost track of you when you approached the park. Are you all right? My mom’s voice came back, concerned.
Yeah Mom, we’re fine. I guess just keep our guests occupied and out of the good stuff until I get back.
Well, that might be a bit of a problem, my mom’s message said.
Let me guess: Dad has already invited Tesla down to the lab.
Yes, dear. Your father is in such a state, it is sending the containment unit into the red. You should get home as soon as possible.
Sure thing. Is Maz up and about?
The demon? Yes, and he is currently rooting through your movie collection.”
Ah hell. OK, throw up a containment field around the pantry, lock down the warehouse, and when he moves away from the movies, throw up a force field.
There are no hard light projectors in your man cave, dear. I heard my mom digitally smirk.
Crap. Fine. We will be home as soon as possible. End transmission. I felt the link go and turned back to Grimm. I caught the last bit of T and Grimm’s conversation.
“…sadly, concoction no work on Demon. Sleepy time yes, but no memory wipe. Want I should terminate?”
“NO!” I yelled. I gestured for Grimm to pass me the communicator, and he did. “T, it’s Salem. Do not terminate anyone, especially not in my home!”
“Fine, fine. Is your secret. If trust the iguana, your business. But must realize situation. Assume liability. Him know of Grimm and I and where you live. Razumiesh? If him report, then could be bad for all. I could end it quick and quiet. Little mess. Pretty please?” One last try to see if I would cave and let my friend be whacked by the 300-year-old electrical genius.
“No, just chill. We will be there soon. Oh, and do me a favor and check out my father’s containment unit. I am getting reports it is running ragged. He will show you where it is.”
“U Redu.”
“Father?” Grimm asked.
“Yeah, and mother. Long story. I will explain it on the way back to my place. Wait here a moment.” I hopped on my bike and took off to the spot where Maz and I first arrived. His bike was still there under the cloak. I tapped out a key decrypter on my tech bracer and the bike reappeared. I signaled to Grimm and he and his Outrider were there in a few moments.
I lashed the bikes to the Outrider’s hitch with an energy tether and loaded up the VK-7 Jammer, then hopped in the passenger seat and lit up a smoke. Grimm just gave me a dirty look.
“Relax, you don’t have doors or a roof. The wind will take care of the smell,” I said. Grimm just shook his head and fired up the Outrider to make his way back into the city.
“You know, we are probably wanted,” Grimm said as we sped along.
“Yeah, I was just thinking about that,” I replied. Getting into the city wouldn’t be difficult, but traversing it would be. There were very good odds that our likenesses were already uploaded to the various district task forces. Each bishop would have a holo-image of us and would be looking to make a name for himself.
“How the hell did T get all the way back to my place?” I asked.
“I do not know,” Grimm answered in his contractionless monotone. “However, if the attack happened the day after we left, then T had a couple of days. He is nothing if not resourceful. We will need safe passage though back through the city.”
“Can’t you, you know, ‘magic’ us there?” I asked.
“No. Short-range teleportation works for me. Not with others.”
“Invisibility or an illusion?” I asked.
“No. We would still encounter traffic and obstacles. We would be discovered.”
“Damn,” I said. This was an issue. I thought about it a bit. An idea came to me. “Head northeast, just over the border into Ars Amadel coastal region. And stay to the cheap sides,” I told
Grimm.
“That will take us into the Magna-Rail industrial zone,” Grimm said.
“I know. I have an old contact there. Trust me.”
********
A few quick bribes at a city entry point gate and we were rolling into the Southern kingdom of Ars Amadel. Unlike the dense asymmetrical vertical sprawl of Ars Goetia, Ars Amadel was almost “normal.” While still bustling, it was laid out as a giant sending and receiving center. Goods and raw materials came and got sent out. The earth was harvested regularly both in organic and synthetic crops. Districts were laid out with order and precision, and every district had its purpose.
An hour or so later we rolled up to an old second-gen Magna-Rail transfer station outside of what once was Norfolk. The refitted train resembled the twenty-first-century Japanese bullets, but floated on magnetic currents and was guided by the modern magnetic hubs that circled the track at various intervals. The operation has been in effect for over seventy-five years, transporting goods from all over NG. The industrial rails were bigger and hauled way more stuff than the sleeker commuter ones in the city’s interior. They were also very susceptible to bribes for go-getting lightrunners and smugglers looking to get all over the city without detection. Or at least they used to be. It had been about thirty years since I was last there.
The switching station was in full effect. Cargo cranes swung around like magna-lock dinosaurs, aligning huge transport pods on the rail. Manifests for destination and cargo type were digitally stamped on the pods, leaving a holographic readout. The massive station was an anthill of activity and loud as all hell.
As we got out of the Outrider, a few oldheads—that’s lingo for old time train operators—saw us and nodded to one another. Human workers were coming up on us and they were not happy. I could tell because a few produced large metal wrenches, used for the Magna-Rail brakes. They made pretty handy skull crushers when needed. Folks around here took their work seriously and they guarded their territory, which we were encroaching on.
