Twig

by wildbow

  One ventured out, weapon still at the ready. He walked a ways out, in the direction of Lillian’s group, before stopping halfway between the front door and where the kids had been playing.

  He searched the area, weapon constantly at the ready. I took it as him looking for evidence or something odd, before I saw him turn around, looking at the window from the outside.

  It wasn’t just him looking for evidence. He’d been covering his own back, making sure that nothing waited in a dark corner, and that no ambush would get him in the time he turned his back on everything else and focused on the problem at hand.

  Then he backtracked, heading back to his fellows, who stood at the ready. I could hear murmurs, voices from inside.

  They found the can. They saw the kids. Nothing too suspicious. All clear to let your guards down.

  Come on, come on.

  Of the four, three went back inside. The one who’d ventured out to survey the scene stayed at the door, weapon in hand, on watch. The window was about three feet to his left and ten feet over his head.

  Come on! You bastard!

  “Nice try,” Gordon murmured, under his breath.

  Hubris nudged him. He gave the dog a pat.

  I shook my head.

  “Patience,” Jamie said.

  “Yeah,” I said. I gestured, and he showed me the watch.

  Five minutes and thirty-three seconds later, and I knew the time because Jamie had handed me the watch after the twentieth time I’d pestered him for a look, Lillian turned up, ducking low.

  I held finger to my lips.

  “Almost got lost,” she whispered.

  I nodded.

  She settled into a crouch between Gordon and I, her shoulder and arm rubbing mine. In her efforts to keep from getting wet, and in the inches of height she had over me, she had her head poking up a bit too much. Her attention was on Gordon, as she gestured to him, pointing at his heart. Gordon gestured back.

  I tugged her down.

  I spotted the back of her skirt dipping toward the puddle, and reached out to grab it and hold it against the back of her thighs, before it was too late. I saw her eyes go wide, before she realized what I was doing.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Her hands went down, taking over the duties of holding her dress up and away from the damp on the ground.

  I nodded.

  “Cart is parked around the corner. Kids are with the parents. I told the parents to stay close, the older children can go get food if they’re hungry.”

  “Good,” I said. “Next part is me climbing that wall to get an eye on what’s going on inside. Either looking inside, or going in and seeing what I can find out, depending on layout, intervening obstacles, yadda yadda. From there, we form a plan and clean up.”

  “I’ll come too,” Jamie said.

  I had to stop myself before I jumped to a conclusion that was no longer true. Jamie’s not supposed to be capable of something like that, is he?

  “Can you climb a wall?” I asked.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “If I can, I can look inside and remember what’s where better than you can. It might be useful.”

  I frowned.

  “If you’d rather I didn’t—”

  I shook my head a little. “We’ll try it. Worst case scenario, I jump down, you make sure I don’t crack my head open as I touch ground, and then we run like figged horses.”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t suppose you have anything we could put in a blowdart that could knock a guy out before he could sound the alarm?” I asked Lillian.

  “You won’t find anything like that outside Jamie’s books,” she said.

  “S’true,” Jamie said. “Hero of a book I just read had those.”

  “Drugs take time to work,” Lillian said. “Unless you’re the Wry Man.”

  I frowned.

  “We wait,” Jamie said.

  It was, fortunately, only a short wait. Five more minutes passed, with the group engaging in only light discussion, me watching the little clock, before the patrol returned.

  I turned myself around and watched through the slats as the returning patrol talked with the man on guard. They talked for a good minute. I could only see one half of any given face at a time, given the narrow vertical gap between boards, but they looked intent, serious about what they were doing. Whatever they were talking about was work to them, business.

  As a trio, they all stepped inside.

  The door shut, and I was gone, vaulting over the short fence and sprinting almost noiselessly across the street, toward the house. Jamie was right behind me.

  The exterior wall was rough-hewn stone, fit together like a jigsaw and mortared into place where wood hadn’t been grown to knit the stones together. Larger blocks of stone toward the bottom, smaller ones up top, like a castle might have been built. The stone was dark and sharp-edged, the same sort Lugh had been situated on top of.

  Weather had eaten at the mortar, so I favored the areas where there was more mortar than wood. I wedged fingers into gaps more than I gripped anything, and the footholds I found were often a fifth of an inch, if that.

  I scaled the building quickly, starting at the corner, where I could better situate my center of gravity, then heading more diagonally up and over, as I made my way to the window. Once I had a grip on the windowsill, not yet raising my head up, I stopped, suppressing my breathing.

  A glance down below suggested Jamie was only starting the climb. Slower going. He was heavier than I, though his frame was slight, he had several inches on me. He wasn’t as nimble, either, nor was he as daring.

  He had good technique, though, doing the same thing I’d been doing to wedge my fingers in, choosing similar footholds. He made good use of his reach.

  I remained where I was, listening to the faint, muffled murmur of conversation, and deeper, guttural grunts that might have been human or animal. Every sound was a cue that could suggest someone standing in a room just inside the window.

  Jamie’s boot missed a foothold and scuffed the stone.

  I froze, tense, waiting, listening. If someone poked their head out, could I grab them and pull them out? I’d have to reach up with one hand, leverage my weight, go down with them…

  Nothing came of it. There was no alert, no gunman appeared.

  Shifting my hold on the windowsill to something more blatant, I hauled myself up, finding footholds so I could peek my head over, slow and careful, so as not to draw attention.

  On the upside, it was largely an open concept laboratory. I could see everything, from the people inside to the experiment and the ongoing work.

  Eight soldiers were within, gathered in one corner, talking as a group. A wood fireplace glowed, with a kettle standing atop it, steam billowing from the spout. Mostly forgotten. As Ratface had suggested, the equipment throughout the lab was all top quality. It looked new, not secondhand, all in good repair, everything chosen for a singular purpose and nothing left to go to waste.

  All placed and built to accommodate the experiment. Even the structure of the building had been turned to the purpose. Chains were set into the stone, run around the iron-reinforced pillars that supported the roof, and converged near the center of the room. The primordial was similar in some ways to the one I’d seen before, in being piecemeal, not quite defined, with too many extraneous growths.

  That said, my uneducated eye knew at a glance that this thing was further along.

  The growths were more uniform. The colors fit together more, as did the textures. The shape of the thing was more streamlined, a solid build, not unlike a leopard or another great cat, quadrupedal, with a distinct head instead of a lump. It looked more sleek than clumsy. The design was more apparent.

  Chains to bind it, to the point it might look ludicrous. Explosive charges were set near it. Panels of what looked to be treated glass surrounded it, with stairs built so handlers could walk up and access a point over the box, which lacked a top.

  Weapons, equipmen
t, gas masks, and other munitions lay on nearby shelves and tables, waiting for an excuse to be used, but the creature didn’t seem to be putting up a fight, it didn’t struggle against its bonds.

  Soldiers who might have specialized in dealing with the worst monsters and biological weapons, now turned toward creating one.

  Jamie reached the window, and I made room for him to survey the scene.

  We didn’t have a lot of time.

  Shifting my grip to a one-handed hold on the windowsill, I gestured. Patrol.

  Jamie wasn’t quite brave enough to let go to gesture back, so he nodded.

  By the soldier’s schedule, the next patrol would be leaving soon. We couldn’t be dangling a little ways over above their heads, especially if they were paying extra attention to the window. Gordon had talked about their wariness.

  Jamie and I edged over, climbing not down, but around the corner.

  Fingers freezing, we waited there. Five minutes before the patrol left?

  I didn’t have a watch, but it was definitely more than five minutes that passed, with nobody exiting the building.

  I couldn’t hear the words that were spoken, but I could hear the tone.

  Intent, yet again.

  They had to be taking drugs, to be this insanely focused on things.

  Or…

  Something is going on, I thought, in the same moment I started to peer around the corner of the building and saw just what that something was.

  Emily and Drake had told us about the man. Short black hair, black skin, and a black army coat, long, with guns at the hips and a rifle held casually in one hand, the folds of the long coat helping to hide it from plain view.

  He wasn’t alone. He had another complement of soldiers with him. Loyal, each one less uniform and more individual, a luxury afforded more to the higher-ups of an organization. Lieutenants and bodyguards at the same time.

  The man they were protecting was walking at the center of the group, armed, but with no weapon held at the ready. He had coppery red hair, and wore a heavier coat, one meant to conceal his overlarge, mutated arm.

  Mauer.

  Mauer being here meant something. The plan I’d expected, to draw fire for the creation of the primordials, it didn’t make sense if the man was here, in the midst of the city as it was cleansed.

  All of the possibilities that did spring to mind were far, far worse than a city erased with plague and fire.

  Previous Next

  Bleeding Edge—8.14

  Frigid water ran down the wall, over my hands, and into my sleeves. The rainwater that the fabric of my sleeves and coat lining didn’t absorb ran down my arms to my chest, trickling down back, stomach, and sides, seeking out new and inventive paths.

  Climbing down was harder than climbing up. If it were me alone, I could have managed it, but I had Jamie with me. We clung to the exterior wall, twenty feet over the ground.

  Reverend Mauer made his way down the street, accompanied by his retinue. I clung closer to the building, and the rainwater touched my face, using the contact to work its way down my collar.

  “This would be it, then,” I heard his voice. They were just outside the door, a matter of twenty or so feet away from me.

  “Yes. They’ve done good work.”

  A pause.

  “Tim Dancer’s men,” Mauer said. “I respected him, I respected his men, but sometimes people reverse course, when they no longer have authority. Do we need to be careful?”

  The question was echoed by the movements of the lieutenants around him, asserting their grips on their guns. I couldn’t see them, but I heard the light rattle and shift of the weapons.

  “Whatever he instilled in them, it kept.”

  Silence. I imagined Mauer nodding.

  Someone rapped on the door. It took a moment before the door opened, a heavy deadbolt sliding through its housing.

  My fingers were going numb. The problem was a gap between the gutter and the edge of the roof. Water meant for the gutter was running into the gap and down along the face of the building. I could have found some relief by climbing down a ways, but doing so would make noise and bring me into their field of view. I would have moved over a ways, but again, noise was a concern, and Jamie was occupying the wall to my right.

  I closed my eyes and kept my ears peeled. I heard the door open—it was heavy enough that there was a lot of weight on the hinges. Even oiled, the movement of the door was accompanied by a faint grinding sound.

  “Mauer.” A surprised tone of voice.

  A shuffling of movement, people standing, chairs scraping against floor.

  Another man’s voice from inside said, “Is there a problem?”

  Restrained fear. They respected Mauer, even if they presently outnumber him.

  “Just the opposite,” Mauer said. “I heard the project is coming along well. You’re well ahead of the others. I wanted to see, and to have a word.”

  “About?”

  There was no open-armed welcome here. Doubt existed on both sides. Mauer wasn’t immediately familiar with the soldiers, either. A business relationship, perhaps, executed through third parties.

  “Stanley told me you’ve made enough headway. The primordial experiment is grown, it’s coordinated enough to stand on its own four feet, and it’s aware of its surroundings. The growths are streamlining.”

  “Yes. More or less.”

  “Then your task is done,” the Reverend said. His voice became warmer, “Congratulations.”

  Considering the word choice and the tone, it was almost eerie that there was no noise or immediate response.

  “I would be obliged if you gave me a chance to step out of this rain. Doubly so if you offered any tea,” Mauer said. “We can discuss the money, stipulations, and further steps for even more funding.”

  “The kettle is on the stove already,” the man at the door said. “Come in. I want to hear more about these stipulations you haven’t mentioned before.”

  “Of course,” Mauer said. I had trouble telling if he sounded pleased or pleased with himself. “Watch the door.”

  He’d known about the tea. Based on what I’d seen of the room, he shouldn’t have been able to see the wood stove, which was inside and off to the left of the door, tucked in the corner. I doubted any of the people inside were holding mugs. A cold guess, perhaps, on a particularly cold day? Or had Mauer’s lieutenant with the black skin, Stanley, been observant on past visits?

  I really wanted to sit down with the man and pick his brain.

  The numbness in my hands was starting to get to the point where I had to will my hand to keep gripping the edge, and in the midst of a complete lack of sensation, I was gripping it hard enough that I felt pulses of dull pain. The water that had soaked me while I hugged the wall was carrying the chill straight through me—not even through the bone, but past it and out the other side.

  I couldn’t stay here.

  I signaled Jamie to stay where he was, got a nod, and then eased my way to the corner, peeking.

  Two men at the door. They wore brimmed hats, not hoods, and both had cigarettes, one already smoking his, providing cupped, gloved hands to help the other get enough flame to light his.

  Careful, slow, and with my hands being very stubborn throughout, I climbed around the corner, above the heads of the two at the door.

  “—Window?” I heard the tail end of Mauer’s question.

  I froze.

  “Children,” a man said. “Kicking cans around the street.”

  “Children. Were they—”

  “Not like you described. All different ages. Only one or two old enough to be like you said. Some were niggers. Some looked like East Crown. Was a little while ago. We were going to have our tea and then have Osmond’s patrol get a ladder from the big house.”

  “Alright,” Mauer said. “Alright.”

  I didn’t dare poke my head up just yet, so I stayed where I was, thumbs wedged into cracks, fingers balled up in hopes of li
miting, even slightly, the amount of body heat I lost.

  “Let’s talk money,” Mauer said. “You finished the task. Lugh isn’t equipped to handle this kind of transaction. I promised you ninety thousand. You borrowed against this future amount to buy equipment, and Stanley told me you provided the results to justify the borrowed amounts.”

  “This is the point where you tell us there was interest on the borrow, and—”

  “No,” Mauer said. “Let’s forget the loan. I’ll give over the promised ninety thousand.”

  “Generous,” the soldier replied. “Enough to make me suspicious.”

  Mauer chuckled. A surprisingly human sound. “Don’t be. Not of me. I’m very pleased with the work you’ve done so far, and this forms a very good timeline for me.”

  “I still haven’t forgotten the stipulations you mentioned.”

  “We haven’t,” another echoed the man.

  “Okay,” Mauer said. “Then I’ll get straight to the point. The Academy knows. They’re already marshaling their forces, and in less than a day, they’ll be collapsing on Lugh.”

  “They know,” a soldier said. No disbelief in his voice, no surprise. Resignation.

  “Based on what I’ve heard about your time with Tim Dancer, you have more than enough experience in the more devious side of the Academy’s approach to war. Overly clever birds that perch on windowsills and then fly home to recite everything that was said, a parasite that crawls inside women to control everything they do. Dangerous children.”

  “Not those things specifically, but similar things, yes.”

  “They know,” Mauer said it with finality. “I know they know, I have messages coming from the headquarters, keeping me up to date. They’re making their move as we speak.”

  I could hear the reaction, the murmurs, the concern, the stress.

  I couldn’t say for certain, listening to Mauer, but I’d heard him talk on several occasions, I’d heard him lie and I’d heard him tell the truth, and in each circumstance I’d known the truth. It gave me an edge most lacked when it came to figuring out if he was telling the truth here.

  Even with that, all I knew was that it wasn’t absolutely true. Partially, perhaps, or perhaps an outright lie.