The van left shortly, and Vesper felt damn alone again. Only now he understood how much he’d gotten used to the monotonous hum, confirming the presence of his kin, in his head. Now there were only two of them. He knew Nidor was somewhere out there, but he didn’t feel him at all. Looks like he’d hid himself already, using his gift.
The sky burned with a stronger glow, filling Vesper with increasing worry. One more hour and ultraviolet light would pour out of the sky in deadly amounts. Doesn’t matter, you can do it, man, you can do it. He bit his lip and used all his strength to control himself.
Finally, the villa’s door opened again. The same man as before, but dressed in an elegant, dark gray suit, from which a shirt and tie were visible, walked out on the porch. He looked around and closed his eyes, as if trying to hear the birds’ morning trills. He stood like that for a moment, then nodded with a smile. He backed away again, closing the door behind him.
Vesper swore angrily. When would this finally end? This morbid cat and dog game? He was now a step away from the other side, was terrified of it yet desired it at the same time, and didn’t know what he wanted more.
Did he want someone to jump out with a plastic gun, and a paper flag, yelling, “Boom, surprise! We were joking, you don’t have to do it?”
Or did he want hell to break loose, him getting lost in it, but maybe finding his own soul?
Whatever, let anything happen already, let the blood christening take place already.
The garage gate opened, and black Mondeo emerged slowly from it. The hesitation and fear disappeared in blink of an eye. Vesper found the driver, training the circled plus on his face. He waited for the car to leave the property, turn left, and speed up over winter-damaged asphalt.
“Now!” Nidor whispered in his head.
Vesper pressed the release.
So easily, so softly and simply. He pulled his pointer finger to himself, defeating the slight resistance. The weapon’s recoil hit his arm, nearly painlessly. As if nothing had happened, nothing at all.
A web of fractures spread in rays over car’s windshield, circling the round bullet hole. The driver’s head fell on the passenger’s arm immediately, splashing blood everywhere. The car turned rapidly and wrapped itself around the light post. Vesper finished off the wounded machine’s engine with few shots. From barely thirty yards away, the bullets entered the steel like butter.
A door jerked desperately and opened—the passengers tried to get out of the car. At that point, a silhouette—that had been lying down, hidden safely by the wall—jumped up and picked up the Wintorez.
The bullets minced the tires to shreds, and burst out sand fountains. Few of them slid over the car roof, forcing the passengers to cower flat on the seats. But the bullets didn’t harm them at all. Apparently, the shooter planned to spare them.
A van drove up. It stopped right by the car with a screech, its back door opening with lightning speed. A host of black-clad people spilled out of it. The passengers got dragged out of the car with precise moves.
Vesper absorbed the scene below with his eyes opened wide. He kept the rifle scope trained on the people, making sure the next shot wouldn’t be necessary. But the prisoners were swiftly transported to the minivan, and the nighters jumped in after them. Then the vehicle drove off with tires crunching on the asphalt.
Vesper got up, and let go of the rifle. He looked down at Nidor, who looked up at him questioningly. Vesper lifted up a fist with his thumb sticking up.
He closed his eyes. He just killed someone. Did something change? He didn’t know. Not yet. Maybe it did. Or maybe not, maybe nothing.
Maybe that was his fate, maybe that’s how it was supposed to be.
I have really bad news for you, kiddo, Nidor’s telepathic voice sounded nervous. They have shitload of trouble with the prisoners. There is a renegade there, a very strong one. He was taken by surprise, but pulled himself together already. They’re fighting mentally now, it’s really something. And all of our guys are needed.
Vesper put the gun together swiftly, and swung it on his back. He ran to the roof’s edge, jumping down without any hesitation. He stumbled at the landing, but kept his balance. He ran up to the captain as quickly as he could.
“Are we supposed to run after them?” he asked briskly.
“No,” the other man said, measuring him with serious eyes. “We have to clean up.”
Vesper stared at him questioningly, asking silently what the problem was. The other one glanced at the villa, blushing pink in the morning light, and shook his head. He looked at his friend again.
“Great. Fucking renegade, fuck his damn, fucking ass!” he growled, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“Well, kid, you’ll have to come with me, we have no other choice. We need to clean up, before the cops start sniffing around here.”
“But what’s the problem?” Vesper asked uncertainly. “What do we have to clean up here, and why so quickly? Our mission was legal after all, and we have prosecutor’s warrant, all directors’ permits, and everything we needed. Cops don’t interfere in our business; we can simply tell them that ISAs are on the job.”
Nidor glanced at him and took a deep breath.
“It would be better if they didn’t see too much,” he explained. “Can you guess what’s inside? And just the two of us can’t stop all the interested ones that will flock in here.”
A police siren sounded in the distance. The local people must have shaken the shock off and dialed the emergency number with their phones.
“Move!” the captain yelled, turned around, and ran to the house.
He jumped over the fence at once. Vesper followed him immediately, partially flying up and partially climbing slowly.
***
The villa’s interior was very luxurious. Mahogany furniture, marble flooring, velvet curtains... ideal for a new-money family.
Apart from that, nothing seemed shifty. They ran around all the rooms, sweeping them carefully with rifles, even looked in the cellar... no traces of blood, signs of struggle, nothing. But the police sirens were getting closer.
They swept the house anxiously. They couldn’t hear the siren anymore, probably the cops had reached the gate already. But in this situation, they wouldn’t go inside, they wouldn’t even move, unless the anti-terrorist unit joined them. But until that unit got here from their headquarters, there was some time. Not a lot, but some...
Nidor stood in the middle of the living room. He motioned for his friend to stop.
“Stop, Vesper,” he said quietly. “Stand still and feel the place. You, since you’re new, you could be more sensitive... Do you feel pain anywhere, do you feel fear?”
Vesper closed his eyes. He listened carefully. A quiet whisper grew around him, the walls were talking, then the house spoke... and then, an uncontrollable, scream, full of unimaginable torture, howled in his head.
He shuddered and took a step back.
“No,” Nidor stopped him immediately. “Don’t run away. Follow that voice, let it guide you.”
Vesper turned around, and once he understood where the call came from, he moved toward it. He took a few steps, stopping by large French door and patio entrance.
“I feel it too!” Nidor said and ran.
They got out on the terrace together, glancing around in a hurry. There, on the right; a small recreation building. A winter garden, with a covered pool. They broke the window and got inside swiftly. They ran around the water, their muddy shoes crunching on cold tiles. They glanced around in concentration.
The sauna. They burst in to the small, wooden cubicle. They locked their lips, feeling the pain emanating from a piercing scream.
An apparatus on the right, looked just like a thermostat, but could be a hidden lock. Nidor pointed the Wintorez at it and shot twice. A silent hiss sounded, and the sauna’s wall shook and began to move away slowly. They pushed it away impatiently, and ran into a large, concrete hall. Right away, they were hit with the ov
erwhelming scent of blood, full of adrenaline. Voices in their head screamed in a crazed choir.
Tortured bodies, chained to metal constructions, half-conscious eyes piercing them with fear.
A room of inhumane torment.
And clear, sterile IVs collecting dripping blood diligently.
Vesper wanted to scream. But he only shook his head, terrified, and a sudden tear ran down his face.
His colleague tapped his shoulder. He probably wanted to tell him to get himself together.
And then Nidor touched a pistol to the first human’s temple. He pulled the trigger. The hit wave sent bloody rain around immediately. Brain burst out on head’s other side, along with bits of bone, staining the floor in white and red. Nidor glanced over at his friend, a question in his eyes. Red spots on his pale face made him look especially eerie.
“The cops will be here any moment,” he said calmly. “And the press—they will blow it up like hell. It will be hard for us to stay in the shadows. And those here... they can’t be saved, you know that. And... they’ve seen too much. Will you help?”
Vesper nodded, and the world disappeared behind a fog of involuntary tears. He wiped his face with a sleeve and walked to the remains of a sliced body, who was once a grown man. Something like gratitude shone in the victim’s eyes, or maybe he just imagined it. He put the gun up to his temple, like Nidor did with the one before. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger.
Blood splattered his face, uniform and hands, and he shuddered under its enslaving scent. His fangs pulled down momentarily, just like in animal tempted with the scent of the hunt. The nighter lifted bloodied fingers to his lips involuntarily, but he remembered himself, shivering all over. He walked up to the next victim, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger.
And once more. And again.
I, Republic of Poland citizen, swear... echoed in Vesper’s mind like a repetitive mantra, to protect country’s safety and its citizens, risking life when necessary.
Both of them walked around like angels of death. Shots echoed around the hall, while the piercing mental scream weakened with every second. But the scent of blood hung around, constantly increasing in potency.
They finally finished; silence fell in the hall. Nidor slipped off his backpack, and took explosives out of it. They placed them around as fast as possible. They ran out of the hall and outside, breaking the winter garden’s huge window. They crossed the estate in brisk steps, quickly arriving at the fence, clearing it in one jump.
Vesper didn’t even notice how well he did. They ran a few steps into the forest which started right past the fence. They stopped and turned around, straining their enhanced hearing.
The anti-terrorists were checking out villa’s entrance slowly and carefully. Before further black-clad units could get inside, a column of fire blew up the eerie hall with all its contents. Soon, the building’s pieces began to fall, covering the neighborhood’s lawns. The police backed away immediately, shouting nervously over the radio.
Nidor glanced at the detonator he kept squeezing in his hand.
“The major is gonna have some work explaining all that,” he stated in tired voice. “He can manage, he’s good at it. He will write a good report. We’ll get a prize and a bonus for removing dangerous criminals. We couldn’t help that they exploded themselves at the last moment...”
Another siren sounded. The captain straightened himself up and listened. Finally, he nodded.
“Okay, ours are here now,” he said. “The major took care of the police, and we are supposed to sneak through the forest for a mile or so. A van is waiting by the road there, and they’ll pick us up. We’re supposed to watch out for ourselves; don’t fly, don’t risk a mishap.”
He glanced at Vesper shaking next to him, and then nodded without further words, turned around, and started walking through the forest.
Vesper watched his colleague, walking away. He wanted to follow him, but his stiffened legs refused to listen. As if he were paralyzed, he couldn’t move and didn’t feel anything... only his fangs pulled up into their gum sockets. Nidor stopped, noticing he still walked alone. He glanced at Vesper, a mixture of sadness and bitterness emanated from his eyes that the youngster had never seen in him before. Or maybe he couldn’t see it before.
“Well, come on, nighter,” the captain said calmly. “It’s all over. Come.”
He didn’t say ‘man’, Vesper realized suddenly. He said ‘nighter’. Right. He turned around without a word, still full of emotional paralysis but able to move physically, and joined Nidor. Both walked across the forest, rushing to their own kind, before the merciless heat shocked them.
The sun was already dangerously high.
Here are the young men, a weight on their shoulders
Here are the young men, well where have they been?
We knocked on doors of hell’s darker chambers
Pushed to the limits, we dragged ourselves in
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying
We saw ourselves now as we never had seen
Portrayal of the traumas and degeneration
The sorrows we suffered and never were freed
Where have they been?
Weary inside, now our hearts lost forever
Can’t replace the fear or the thrill of the chase
These rituals showed up the door for our wanderings
Opened and shut, then slammed in our face
Where have they been...
Joy Division, ”Decades”
The Bunker
Vesper looked down. The long, concrete shaft fell down the ground and disappeared into complete darkness. Even having excellent sight, he couldn’t see the bottom.
“Why are you staring?” the captain sighed, standing right behind him. “Jump! Do I have to take you to the elevator or what?”
Vesper nodded and glanced again into the well’s depths. Yes, he had expected an elevator just a moment ago. They had both entered a part of the building unknown to him previously. Nidor said he would show him some new duties, then entered an access code, running his fingers over a small screen next to the silvery door. The door opened with a whoosh, and a soft ‘ping’ sounded—a normal elevator sound. Just like in normal elevators, a sign could be seen that read ‘Before entering, make sure the elevator is present’. In this case, a sign like that would be needed, because the elevator wasn’t there. There were no characteristic cables either—the ones that show the elevator is there, but is on another floor. Vesper only saw the concrete shaft and the smooth, parallel walls.
“Are you gonna jump?” Nidor hurried him, clearly impatient. “Listen, kid, the lower shift won’t wait a hundred years for us!”
Vesper smiled with a slightly predatory expression. A dark, bottomless shaft. Uncertainty. Danger, maybe. You going? Sure. It’s like waking a tiger. He focused, then jumped. Walls can give support, he just needed to push off them with his mind, like slightly angled down. Symmetric silhouette, legs lightly bent at the knees, hands slightly spread out to the side. That was important, especially during free-fall, since with the slightest wave, you could flip in mid-air, and even wall support couldn’t prevent that.
He felt the ground, even though he didn’t see it. He pushed off it with his mind, and landed slowly, stably, on both legs. He was doing better with flying, really. Both up and down.
Well, he was a fully-fledged nighter now, after all.
That thought brought memories forward. Key events, just like sounds from a scratched record, opened in his mind once again; the first moon shining in the sky, first wobbly steps in the air, first blood thirst, first shot, and first corpse.
A welcome among his own.
The first feeling of true fellowship. An ugly duckling that had finally found its way and has become a swan.
He’d never been as happy as he was now.
He shook himself off and returned to reality. Nidor was already standing next to him, and another LED screen shone with a blu
e glow. The captain typed in a very complicated code, requiring countless repeats and confirmations. Finally, the screen flashed a huge OK, and another door slid open in front of them with a hiss.
They entered a small room. The giant console placed in center spot and colorful monitors glistening in rows along the walls indicated the room’s purpose: a monitoring center.
Seeing them enter, two nighters rose out of their office chairs.
“Finally!” one of them said. “You’re late!” he added with a slight resentment.
“Kid was afraid to jump,” Nidor said, glancing at Vesper mischievously. “You know, the youngster is just learning to fly, and it was so dark down there... it took me a while before I kicked him down the shaft.”
“It didn’t get better after,” the youngster parried immediately. “Mr. Captain forgot the access code. He entered it five times, and kept asking if I knew what he was supposed to link it with—his birthday, or some Viner’s measurements. If the code was simpler, maybe one digit, then he could remember his own measurement, but too late for that. Too difficult...”
All four laughed, shaking their heads.
“Cheeky brat,” Nidor muttered. “I’m training the dog, and what? No appreciation.” He pointed to one of the monitors. “So how’s our renegade?”
They became serious instantly and stared at a silhouette cowering in a gray room.
“He’ll go crazy soon,” one of the nighters said. “He’s increasingly hungry; it’s visible. But he still doesn’t want our food. He spills it on the walls, and then we have to disinfect the cell.”
“Day three,” Nidor said thoughtfully. “Right. It’ll be a circus soon.”
They nodded.
“Okay, we’ll get going,” the other nighter said, glancing at his watch. “Eight fifteen, damn it.” He sighed with resentment. “That’s it for the night. Nothing but bedtime now. The shift report’s printed out, you can read it over,” he said to Nidor. “But nothing special happened. State of prisoners is unchanged. The feeler keeps shaking and crying; apparently we have a bad effect on him.” He smiled maliciously. “The dealer is so obedient and cooperating, it’s disgusting. He’s probably counting on buying himself out. And the renegade... well, you saw.”
Nighter Page 7
