by JJ Zep
“Bastard.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Scolfield chuckled. He reached into his pocket and produced a small wallet, unzipped that and withdrew a vial of clear, slightly bluish liquid. “Now,” he said. “You’re probably thinking that this is BH-17. It isn’t. This is, in fact, BH-18. Your people at the Corporation considered it a failure, one of their many cock-ups. Except, it isn’t a failure at all. Used creatively, it is the answer to the question I’ve been puzzling over for the last five years. How to create a sentient Z.”
He flicked at the syringe with his finger, held it up to the light.
“I have a lot to thank you for, Alex. I would never have made it into New York without your help. More than likely, I’d have died out there on the Lincoln Tunnel approach. And I’d never have considered BH-18 as the answer to the puzzle if it hadn’t been for our little post-coital chats.”
“Don’t!” Alex said as the syringe approached. She thrashed at her bonds, tried to wrench free.
“It’s been a blast, Alex,” Scolfield said as he plunged the needle in. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
thirteen
“We’re being followed,” Ruby said. Chris drew the column to a halt, looked back along the street and saw only darkness. He cocked an ear and heard nothing but the rattle of the breeze, stirring the skeletal boughs of the trees in the park.
“You sure, Rube?”
Ruby nodded.
“What’s up?” Joe said, scuttling across to them and dropping into a crouch.
“Ruby reckons we’re being followed.”
Joe looked back the way they’d come. Chris followed his gaze. The expanse of York Avenue, running adjacent to the FDR was deserted.
“Ruby says there’s someone out there, that’s good enough for me,” Joe said. “Damn, I knew I should have doubled up on those cuffs.”
“You think it’s Justine?”
“Who else?” He peered into the dark again, seemed to be contemplating something.
“Reckon we should lay down a trap for her?” Chris said.
“Justine’s too smart for that,” Joe said. “No, there’s only one way to deal with this.”
He got to his feet and walked into the middle of the road. “Okay Justine,” he said, not shouting, keeping his tone even. “You can come out now.”
Nothing stirred back there.
“We know you’re back there, Justine, so you can quit fooling around. Matter of fact, I was kind of hoping you’d work yourself free. Why do you think I left those cuffs loose enough for you to get out of?”
“The hell you did,” Justine said. She stepped from behind the rusted hulk of a delivery vehicle, parked halfway down the block. “That was all my own work.”
“Whatever,” Joe said. “Why don’t you come on down?”
“I prefer to work on my own, thanks.”
“Really? Is that why you’re skulking around in the dark, following us, trying to pick up on our moves.”
Justine snorted. “I don’t need to pick up on any moves that you make. I’ve got enough moves of my own.”
“That right?” Joe said. “Okay then, suit yourself. Just figured maybe we could pool our resources. By the way, what happened to the kid?”
“She was out of there the minute you were gone, said she was going to hook up with her folks, said they were hiding out nearby.”
“But you convinced her to help you out before she left.”
“I asked her to bring me a twist of wire. That’s all it took.”
“That’s pretty damn impressive. Listen, it’s been nice shooting the shit with you, Justine. We’re going to be moving out now. Skulk back there if you want. I’d just ask you not to get in our way while we’re dealing with Scolfield. Far as I can make out he’s no friend of the Corporation either, so in a way, we’re doing your work for you. See you around, Justine.”
“How were you figuring on getting onto the island?” Justine cut in.
Joe didn’t answer for a while. Eventually, he said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to tell you, just for telling you. We’re crossing into Queens, then going in over the Roosevelt Island Bridge.”
“The 36th Avenue Bridge?”
“That’s the one.”
“Not a good idea.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s the only way in. Likely to be guarded.”
“True,” Joe said, “But other than parachuting off the Queensboro or swimming the river, what choice do we have?”
“You could use the subway.”
“Probably could,” Joe said after a while “But that’s likely to be guarded too.”
“It isn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Swung by there earlier.”
“63rd and Lexington?”
“Uh huh.”
“Lead on.”
fourteen
Conan Eriksson ladled the last spoonful of cold beans into his mouth and then put the can aside in disgust. He took a swig from his canteen and looked across the fire at his two lieutenants. Junior and Caleb looked none too pleased with life right now.
“So what can I do for you boys?” Conan said. He removed the fixings from his pocket and began rolling a smoke.
“We was just wondering boss,” Caleb Tucker said. “Well the thing is…it’s like this, you see…”
“The men ain’t happy, boss,” Junior Kenton cut in, straight to business as usual. “They ain’t happy being stuck on this pissant little island, they ain’t happy being at the beck and call of some psycho ass wipe, they ain’t happy being drovers to so many head of stock and not allowed to cut even one or two from the herd for eatin’.”
“Uh huh,” Conan said, placing the cigarette in his mouth and lighting up. “They all feel this way?”
“Some of the fellers,” Caleb started to say before Junior cut him off.
“Some of the fellers, my ass,” he spat. “Every single one of them, more like. You got yourself a mess of trouble, Conan. Y’all don’t fix this toot suite, you’ll likely have a mutiny on your hands.”
Conan drew deeply on his cigarette. The weed was stale but still pretty good stuff. He passed the joint over the fire to Caleb. What Junior had said wasn’t news to him. He was well aware of the dissatisfaction of his men, aware too that if he failed to do something about it, his days as leader of the Dead Men (probably, his days on this earth) were numbered.
“Matter of fact,” he said, accepting the joint back from Junior. “I was thinking along the same lines.”
“You were?” Caleb said.
“Damn straight. I was planning on calling a parley this very night, except you boys beat me to it.”
Junior regarded him suspiciously. Conan met his glare without flinching. He knew that Junior had designs on the leadership and had likely been stirring the men up.
“You got a plan?” Junior said.
“The inkling of a plan,” Conan replied, circulating the joint again. “Figured maybe you boys could help me fill her out, color in some of the detail so to speak.”
“Let’s hear what you got then,” Junior said, his dark eyes challenging Conan, his thumbs pushed into the waistband of his pants, close to where his pistol was stashed. Conan looked down at his own six-shooter, hidden behind his bedroll on the ground. Could he reach it if Junior decided to make a move? He didn’t think so. He’d have to lay out his plan in a way that gave Junior no encouragement to make a play for the leadership right now. He reminded himself to ensure that Junior met with an accident some time in the near future.
“Way I figure is this,” he said. “We’d own this town and everything in it, but for one thing.”
“Which is?”
“Which is Mr. Howdy Doody fucking Scolfield and his Z controlling device.”
“You been up all night figuring that out?”
“Just saying is all. We take down Scolfield we own his stock, his town, everything in it.”
“Except Scolfield has a Z army camped just to the south of us. We make a move, he presses the button and we’re lunch.”
“True, but what if he don’t press the button?”
“How’d you figure on stopping him? Scolfield’s holed himself up in that tower over the road from the hospital. He’s got them mean ass Z’s surrounding him. By the time we get past them, his Z’s from down south will be chewing on our asses.”
Conan sucked on the last of the joint then flicked the roach into the embers. He paused, enjoying the moment before delivering the crux of his brilliant plan.
“What’s the most important thing to Scolfield right now?” he said.
Junior and Caleb stared blankly back at him. Neither of his lieutenants was every going to threaten the scorers in an intelligence competition.
“His stock,” Conan said. “The folks he’s got holed up in the hospital. Far as I can figure, he’s planning on carrying out some weird ass experiments on them, already started with that lady doctor.”
“So?”
“So do you think he’d unleash his Z’s if them folks were out on the streets?”
“How are them folks going to be out on the streets?” Caleb said. “We got them tied down at the hospital.”
“That’s right,” Conan said. “We got them tied down and we can just as easily turn them loose.”
fifteen
“Thought you said the subway wasn’t guarded?” Joe said.
“I said the Manhattan side wasn’t guarded,” Justine said. “No way I could have known they’d have men here. What’s the matter Joe? You don’t think we can take these guys?”
Joe looked out from the shadows of the Roosevelt Island station. The trek through the subway had passed mostly without incident, the most difficult part being the climb from the platform to street level. Joe had read somewhere that it was equivalent to climbing a ten-storey building. It had certainly felt like it. Now they faced another problem. A bonfire raged in the street outside the station. Gathered around it were a group of about eight Dead Men, all of them packing automatic weapons.
“We can take them,” Joe said. “I’d just rather we did it without any shooting. No need to announce our presence just yet.”
“We won’t,” Justine said. She turned back towards the darkened interior of the station. “Hey Ruby, you up for a bit of fun?”
Ruby was suddenly beside them. Joe hadn’t even heard her approach. She scanned the street for less than a second. “What’s your plan?” she said.
“Just follow my lead, okay?” Justine said. “You guys sit tight. Watch and learn.”
She got to her feet, walked a few paces, stopped and whispered something to Ruby, who nodded, then allowed Justine to hoist her, cradling her like a baby. Justine took a few more steps carrying Ruby in her arms. Then, as she broke from the cover of the station, she listed to the right, staggered as though she was having difficulty carrying the load.
“Help! Help me!”
The men gathered around the fire reacted instantly. Firepower appeared in their hands and was swung towards the intruders.
“Please!” Justine said. “It’s my little sister. She’s hurt. She’s not breathing!”
For a second, the Dead Men stood frozen to the spot, rifles and shotguns and handguns trained on the two women. Then, one of them, a scrawny, bearded man, broke the silence.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’? Don’t you know it’s dangerous for a pretty little slip of a thing such as yourself to be out on the streets after dark? There’s some dangerous types about.” The rest of the men chuckled at his little jibe, moved in, one or two of them laying their rifles on the ground as they did.
“Please,” Justine pleaded. “Help us.”
“Oh, we’ll help you alright,” the bearded man said. “Right after we help ourselves.” He reached for Justine, cupping his hand behind her head and pulling her face towards his. “How about a little kiss for starters?”
“You want a kiss?” Justine said. “Kiss this.”
She dropped her head and drove forward, crashing the top of her skull into the man’s face. Even at a distance, Joe heard the crunch of the man’s nose being pulped. Then, as the sound of his screams reverberated off the buildings Ruby and Justine got to work, Ruby wielding her sword while Justine waded in with fists and feet. It was over within thirty seconds.
sixteen
The Octagon Tower stood at the corner of Main Street and Road 10, directly opposite the hospital. According to the plaque in the foyer, it had once served as the entrance to the New York City Lunatic Asylum. Many people would consider that appropriate, Marin Scolfield chuckled wryly as he crossed the third floor terrace. He looked across the road to the hospital where all of his subjects were safely ensconced. Somewhere inside was Alex, his Eve, the concoction of Z blood and chemicals coursing through her veins, evolving her very biology. Scolfield gave a contented sigh, turned back towards the domed tower of the Octagon. It had been a long day and although he was too hyped up to be tired, he figured he should get some sleep. Tomorrow his work would begin in earnest.
He’d almost crossed the patio when a sound reached him, the distant rumble of motorcycles, a lot of them. Scolfield was instantly annoyed. Hadn’t he sent those reprobates to their posts? Hadn’t he told them not to move until sunup? He turned on his heel and headed back to the barrier, leaned over and looked along the darkened expanse of road. Nothing was moving down there. The sound though was definitely getting louder, definitely heading in his direction.
Scolfield dropped his hand into his pocket and closed his fingers on the I-Pod. He had expected that this moment would come, although he’d hoped that he could keep them in check until his first batch of conversions was completed. Nonetheless, he was ready. The Dead Men were going to regret the day they decided to cross swords with Marin Scolfield. He withdrew the I-Pod from his pocket and pointed it south (a merely symbolic gesture). Then he depressed the play button.
***
Hooley looked at the filthy, denim vest with disgust. “I ain’t wearing that,” he said.
“For chrissakes, Hooley,” Joe said. “Now ain’t the time to be worrying about personal hygiene, just put the goddamn vest on.”
“Hygiene don’t come into it. I ain’t wearing that Dead Men insignia on my person. No way, no how.”
“You’re kidding me right? We’ve already been through this. We put on these clothes, ride in on these bikes. How well do you think that’s going to work with you wearing that red parka of yours?”
“I ain’t wearing no Dead Men insignia,” Hooley said.
“Ah man, I don’t have time for this shit. Chris, you talk some sense into him.”
Chris had been watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and anxiety. Joe and Hooley always reminded him of a cranky old couple when they squabbled. At the same time he realized that they had to get moving. The men Ruby and Justine had killed had obviously been standing guard at the station. Who knew when someone might arrive to relieve them?
He looked across at Hooley and could see right away that Hooley wasn’t going to be convinced, at least not without a bit of trickery. “Hooley’s right Joe,” he said. “If he doesn’t want to wear the vest, that’s fine by me.”
“What?” Joe said. “You’re siding with him on this?”
“Absolutely,” Chris said. He turned to Hooley. “Now here’s what I need you to do, Hooley. You take up a position in the station building, out of sight from the street. Your job will be to keep this escape route open for us. Anyone tries to say otherwise you –”
“Wait a tick,” Hooley said. “You saying I should wait here while you go in? No way that’s happening, Chris. I been waitin’ too long for a crack at these varmints.”
“You and me both partner. I been tussling with the Dead Men even longer than you, remember? But here I am, wearing their filthy shit, insignia and all. If that�
��s what it takes, that’s what it takes.”
“I ain’t wearing it Chris.”
“No one’s asking you to. Ain’t going to make much difference anyway, as you’ll be waiting for us down here.”
Hooley looked back at Chris, seemed to be considering his options. “Give me the goddamn vest,” he said eventually, snatching it away from Joe.
seventeen
The sound of the approaching motorcycles was deafening. Scolfield could see the headlights of the lead riders as they made the turn from the island’s main road into the t-junction that terminated in the square between the Octagon and the hospital. They spilled into the space, a seemingly endless procession of men and machines. Then, when it seemed like the roar of their engines might shake the shingles from the surrounding buildings, the shrill blast of a whistle sounded and all of the engines were instantly killed. The silence that ensued was almost as deafening as the noise that had preceded it.
“Scolfield!”
There was movement among the bikers and Scolfield saw the redheaded Swede, who passed as leader to this rabble, dismount his bike. Conan shuffled between the densely packed machines and took up a position to the fore, two other men standing either side of him.
“Conan,” Scolfield said. “So delighted to see you and your colleagues.”
“Cut the crap Scolfield. Here’s what’s happening. Me and the boys now own this island, this city, all your stock, you.”
“That right?” Scolfield chuckled.
“Yeah that’s right. Now we can do this easy or hard. You come down here and give yourself over and I’ll promise you a quick death. You make me come in there and get you and we’ll keep you alive while we slice you into sirloin. What’s it gonna be?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
