by S Mays
“It was all in your file. The Order keeps very detailed files, especially on members. I spent some time studying yours before deciding you were my ticket out of there. I even read through all of your testin’ phases at Inquest.”
“Gee, you sure know a lot about me, but I don’t know a thing about you besides you are apparently rich and pretty damn bossy.”
“That’s the thing about being the boss — you get the right to be bossy,” she countered.
He thought about it. He couldn’t really do much on his own, and she seemed to have a lot of resources. He didn’t have any immediate options. The deaths of his parents were going to eat away at him unless he did something eventually. Izzy could probably set something up on that front, and she did seem to know what she was doing. Then again, she had been a prisoner at Inquest One.
He stood and reached across the table. She looked surprised, then smiled and took his hand in hers and shook.
“You’ve got a deal, at least for now,” he said.
“Fan-tastic!” she exclaimed. This guy could be the key to solving a lot of lingering problems. It was hard finding a capable, dependable guy in this business, and Sverre was as gullible as they came. Plus, he was good in bed. Sverre seemed trustworthy, but it was going to be a long time before she trusted anyone again.
Her eyes narrowed as she thought about Chuck. She was going to need a top crew if she was going to take him down, and Sverre was a good start. She’d have that traitor’s balls in a jar before all was said and done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day, Izzy explained all of the dos and don’ts about traveling in public. She gave him a pair of sunglasses. “These emit a spectrum of light on varying wavelengths at all times, makin’ your face unreadable by facial recognition software. Probably the most important thing for flying under the radar. Don’t use any credit cards or checks or anything unless I give them to ya. Use only the phones I provide, because they are on their own cell system and can’t be monitored.”
“You have your own cellular network?”
“No, my little nooblet, this is the Shadow Network. Varying bands that piggyback on partitions on hacked towers that change up every few minutes. Real big in our business. Small-timers use things like prepaid phones; the bigwigs use the Shadow Network.”
She handed him a black, ordinary-looking handgun.
“Really? Everyone else is running around with magic swords, ray guns, and killer robots, and you give me a nine?” he asked as if she had just handed him a BB gun.
“Yeah…sorry. We are going to have to do something about that eventually. I’ve got a few ideas in mind, but this is all I’ve got on me at the moment. Your martial arts are pretty impressive and all, but we’re goin’ to need something more appropriate for this line of work. You can only get so far karate chopping a mummy.”
“Mummy? I thought you said you dealt in information and the black market.”
“I deal with the Underworld. You know, all of the guys your buddies are trying to wipe out. The supernatural coalition that is trying to stay one step ahead of the hangman’s noose. People that are part of the system are called Underworlders.”
“Wait, so you are selling out your own kind to make a buck, dealing with scum like those werewolves?” he asked.
“I know you’ve been fed the corporate line, hon, but those people you call ‘scum’ are just like you and me. They might have been born different, or had some curse come into their lives that made them transform into a giant panda under the full moon, or even been sucked into our world from some other dimension, but they want the same things in life that we all do,” she explained.
“I’ve seen the logs. They murder people. They kidnap children. They’ve wiped out whole villages and towns,” Sverre countered.
“I’m not sayin’ they’re all angels. Hell, how many humans are killed by other humans every year? Half a million? How many died in World War II? For every member of the Underworld who kills or hurts someone, there are one hundred that have never harmed a fly. And that’s saying something, because some of them eat flies exclusively. You try being a seven-foot-tall reptile staring at twenty babes swimming above you on Spring Break. It’s really hard not to steal one to take home to be your bride.”
“You’re joking, right? I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Sverre argued, turning away. “This is ridiculous! You are defending these monsters that the Order was created to eliminate!”
“Hon, the Order was created to eliminate anything that isn’t human, that doesn’t fit into their neat hierarchy. They’ve worked a real long time to ensure that man is at the top of the food chain, and everything else on the planet is expendable. That includes everything from wiping out regular species like wolves to supernatural ones like werewolves. The planet’s ecosystem is out of whack because mankind destroys anything he considers a threat or a nuisance.”
“So? What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with getting rid of things that can kill you? This is our own species we are talking about, here,” Sverre said.
“Is it? Are you a normal man? Am I a normal woman? Newsflash, slick: we are the ones the Order was created to take out. Anyone who doesn’t play ball, the unusual, the ones who don’t fit in. If you are at least human, they might be willing to overlook any special abilities you have if you work for them like a slave, but if you don’t — they are coming for you,” she said, her voice cracking.
It sounded like she had personal experience in the matter. He wondered how she had ended up at Inquest.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t wanna do, but at least gather a few more facts before you make up your mind. Believe me, there’s another side to this story. I’d really hate to see a good guy like yourself try to make it out there on your own. Your chances with us are a lot better.”
“You want me to work with guys who killed my parents, killed those college kids, just to save my own skin?” he asked.
“Like I said, they ain’t all like that. Just give them a chance,” she pleaded.
Sverre stared at her for a moment before deciding. “Alright. Sure, let’s do this. But I’m not agreeing to anything. You show me what you have to show me, then I’ll make up my mind.”
“That’s all I’m askin’. Just stay cool, let me do the talking,” she replied, relieved. The hardest part was over, but now the legwork began.
She’d have to let him see the slums and hovels before hitting up Fur and Feathers. Better that he saw how the innocents barely got by in society before introducing him to the criminal element. One wrong word in Feathers, and they’d meet exactly the stereotypical bloodthirsty chumps Sverre was talking about, and there’d be no winning him back over.
“What a crap heap!” Sverre exclaimed upon seeing the car Izzy had arrived in. It looked like if she’d paid five hundred dollars for it, she would have been ripped off.
“Where we’re going, this will blend right in. I’d like to actually have the wheels and tires attached when we need to leave. Believe me, I’d much rather cruise over in a BMW, but it would most likely get stolen before I could click the alarm button,” she said, opening the driver’s side door.
“You don’t want me to drive?” he asked.
“Hah. I do my own driving, and you are so green, I doubt you’ve driven much besides your mom’s minivan.”
They drove for an hour to a remote part of the city. It appeared to be mostly abandoned at first, but Sverre noticed a few people walking around, probably homeless, he guessed. Random paper and trash tumbled across the barren streets, blowing in the wind. Every building was boarded up, otherwise shattered windows and broken doors were visible. Sverre attempted to translate the graffiti which adorned the walls, but gave up shortly. The few people shuffling about looked up at the passing car with little interest to see if they knew the passengers.
“Cheery place,” Sverre remarked, gazing out of the window.
“Hon, t
his is the good part of town,” Izzy said, pulling down a side street.
A few moments later, they arrived at a junkyard. Izzy parked the jalopy beside a batch of cars that looked similar to their car. Sverre hoped that once they were done with their business, they didn’t return to a crushed metal cube.
Izzy talked to a man running a crane while Sverre looked on. Eventually, another man came over and interjected, apparently upset that his employee wasn’t working. Sverre saw Izzy flash him some cash while pointing at their car.
“Numbskulls!” Izzy said upon returning. “I miss when Cal ran the place. No questions asked.”
“Where are we heading?” Sverre asked.
“Just follow me. I told them we were going to search for car parts.”
Walking to the far end of the lot, out of sight of anyone, they stopped behind an ancient stack of rusty clunkers that looked as if they hadn’t been moved in years. She pulled him into a dark, cramped area. A large concrete drainage tunnel protruded out of a hill, hidden by the tower of cars. Thick metal bars blocked the entrance. She rotated one bar with some effort. It pulled loose, creating enough room to squeeze through.
“Here we go,” Izzy said, heading inside. She pulled out a small LED lamp and switched it on. Izzy screwed the bar back into place and continued inside once Sverre was through.
“Okay, now tell me why we are in a junkyard in the middle of a larger junkyard that some people apparently call a city.”
“We are goin’ to a bar called Fur and Feathers, but first I wanted you to see the people we are fighting for,” she explained. “This is the long way around to Xibalba.”
“Xibalba? That’s an unusual name.”
“Yeah, talk to Drake about that. When you create your own underground labyrinthine city, you can call it what you want,” she replied, proceeding into the depths of the musty tunnel.
They walked for a mile before stopping at a large steel door bolted to the side of a cement wall. Izzy pulled out a card and pressed it against the door, which opened.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” she instructed Sverre.
Sverre could make out the sound of sniffing and some muffled movements in the darkness behind the door. It opened wider, allowing Izzy to walk through. She paused, turning back to the cautious Sverre, asking, “You coming?”
His eyes adjusted to the dim light. On the other side of the door were two very large men dressed in body armor. Each carried an assault rifle. Despite the lack of visibility, the air carried a variety of scents, from food and waste to decay and unidentified animals.
The chamber was very large, almost resembling a main street in a small town in the middle of the night. Izzy spoke to the guards, who were eyeing both of them suspiciously — not without a little hint of dislike. One of the guards pulled out a radio, spoke for a moment, then motioned with his head for them to move along.
Sverre leaned in and whispered, “Not the friendliest of guys.”
The guard with the radio smiled, revealing razor-sharp teeth.
“Remember, many of these guys can hear a pin drop at a hundred feet,” Izzy warned, glancing back at the guard.
They moved down the “street” slowly, allowing Sverre to analyze the underground city. There were various lights on makeshift poles and wires running every which way. This tunnel seemed to have been carved out of the earth, like a very large mining tunnel rather than a natural occurrence. Smaller tunnels branched off to the sides. Some were brightly lit and inviting. Others were cloaked in ominous darkness.
Doors were carved out of the tunnel walls at regular intervals, some with signs above them. Sverre looked into one, noticing shadowy figures seated at tables. A low blue light that might have been from a TV flickered from somewhere out of sight.
“A bar?” he asked, looking at Izzy.
“Just because you howl at the moon doesn’t mean you don’t want some Jack Daniels every now and then,” she remarked, continuing past without peering in.
Coughing erupted from somewhere in the shadows. Cautiously, Sverre moved closer. He then noticed a child playing with a toy in the mouth of one of the dark tunnel branches. The small figure squatted over a makeshift ramp, running a cheap toy car without tires over the ramp, making “vroom” noises.
The child noticed their presence and turned toward them, revealing itself to be a small girl. Sverre’s eyes moved to the horns on her otherwise normal head. She showed him the car, smiling. He smiled back, nodding as if he was impressed by the vehicle. She then broke down in a coughing fit again.
“Not too many doctors down here, and you’ve got to have something to trade for medicine,” Izzy said. “Many residents can’t procreate, so it’s not too common to see kids down here. Judgin’ by the horns, the kid might be half-demon, but most likely is some kind of hybrid human and animal. Not even Underworlders look kindly on demons.”
As they walked along, Sverre noticed more and more people. What seemed at first like a barren cave became a bustling small town. There were probably hundreds, if not thousands, of residents. People of all shapes, sizes, and make-up moved in and out of the passageways. Some were mostly human-looking, but animal traits like reflective eyes revealed their true nature. Others appeared be living corpses but still in possession of their mental faculties. Some were missing body parts or had extra parts. They were all creatures of legend, myth, and nightmares, but none were menacing at the moment. Many appeared to be diseased, downtrodden, or simply exhausted.
“There are many little towns like this across the world,” Izzy explained. “They usually start off as a small group, then expand. They try to stay small so that they aren’t located by the Order. Once that happens, they are wiped out within weeks or months.”
Sverre thought back to the little coughing girl.
Izzy continued, “They scrape by, raiding dumpsters, hunting wildlife like rats, possum, deer. Many of them get a little bit of outside help from Underground support networks funded by wealthy Underworlders who manage to pass for humans. Kind of like how immigrants send money back to their home countries,” Izzy explained. “They send blood, medicine, food, clothes, generators, but it’s never enough. Most everyone who lives down here, except for hunters and thieves, never goes out into the real world. Some who venture up never come back.
“Typically, areas of the town are divided up between Hybrids, Undead, Otherworlders, and whatever doesn’t fit neatly into any category. They work together to keep the place running, but due to dietary needs, socialization, and whatever, each type tends to stick to their own kind,” she continued. “Many of them set up their own little shops, sending profits back to the Benefactors — that is what we call the ones who send supplies — and the Benefactors send them things to sell or other necessities.”
“What do they use for money?” Sverre asked.
“It’s more of a barter society, but of course a lot of these guys are excellent thieves, so there’s no shortage of actual money, jewelry, and other valuables floating around,” she said with a glint in her eye. Sverre bet that she knew more about that side of the society than she was letting on.
“Hey, you two, want to have a little fun?”
Sverre turned to see a rather attractive woman, probably in her early thirties, standing at the mouth of an alley.
“I can set all of your senses on fire,” she promised.
Sverre turned to Izzy, who didn’t pause. “Just keep walking.”
Sverre looked back at the woman, who feigned a look of disappointment. She smiled, licked her lips, and sashayed back into the darkness.
“Not that we are an item or anything, but you’d best stay away from those types down here,” Izzy advised.
“Why do you say that?” he asked. He wasn’t interested in the woman’s offer, just curious.
“Let’s just say that not only are you too fragile to withstand thirty seconds with some of them, but on top of that, have you ever seen what a supernatural STD does to you? I’ve seen a guy
that decayed from the groin out — completely skinless in two minutes! He ran down the steps of the brothel, and the next thing I knew, he was a steaming skeleton in the street outside,” Izzy said excitedly, as if it was the best thing she’d ever seen.
“Sounds like a condom might have been a good idea,” Sverre remarked, trying to drive the picture of the incident out of his mind.
“He was wearing a condom!” she said with a giggle.
Sverre glanced back at the dark alley and thought he heard laughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
They reached another large door. Izzy once again went through the security procedure as before. This area was well-lit, and the sound of modern music drifted from various directions. Laughter, music, and shouting carried from the doorways they passed. The area they were in now was more upscale than the previous section. There were dozens of dazzling neon and LED signs in front of several of the establishments. The residents were dressed well and carried themselves with confidence. Vegas had come to the mole men.
“This is Park Place,” Izzy explained, noticing his curiosity. “It’s where the bigwigs come to do business, or where people who have managed to save up some real money come to blow it. Ninety-nine percent of the people we just saw will never see this place.”
“Just like the real world — the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer,” he responded.
“Yeah, but we are looking to stay in the ‘richer’ category,” she answered, eyeing the front of the largest structure.
It was made up to look like an old saloon, with an expansive wooden porch out front and slatted gates that swung inward. Neon signs flashed “Fur and Feathers.” An animated sign displayed an anthropomorphic cat-girl leaping on a girl who had avian features. The place was the most raucous of all the businesses in the area. Two large bouncers stood out front. One of them appeared to be a bipedal rhinoceros wearing a suit and sunglasses; the other was a man who was even larger than the rhino-man, although Sverre was hoping that was just a trick of perspective.
