Ascent: Second Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  Pretty thing. He pulled out his wallet and signaled for Chloe to come by.

  She gave him the price: “Two orange, two yellows,”.

  “Here,” the Nameless said, giving her three orange chips. “You can keep the change.”

  “Generous as always,” she said. For some reason, she kept standing there.

  “Chloe!” the barmaid shouted. “Don’t!”

  “I know!” Chloe shouted back. She gave the Nameless another look, then turned back toward the counter. “Have a good day, mister!” she said.

  Curious. After giving the two women a somewhat confused stare, the Nameless left the café. But whatever it is, it will have to wait.

  He had rested so much that he was tired. It was time to start moving again.

  Time to hunt.

  ***

  They say that seeing a priest is good for the soul.

  Fresh from his recent kill, the Nameless stood in front of the shrine of the True Church. The second floor was always crowded, but there the word took a whole new meaning. Huddled together, men and women screamed for the attention of a bearded priest in white.

  This reminds me why I have avoided this place. Nevertheless, he was troubled, and learning something new was a possible way of calming his nerves. If the surrounding people didn’t agitate him so much, that idea might not have been half bad.

  “I have sins to confess!” a woman screamed like a harpy.

  “Bless me, father!” a short man called, leaping to try to be noticed.

  “I have questions!” a child shouted.

  So do we all, the Nameless thought as he lightly but persistently tried to shove his way forward. Sadly, this crowd was stouter than the one he was used to navigate. That, or the shrine had a profound effect on them. Regardless, he was more or less locked in place.

  “My sons!” The priest spoke loudly, and with a voice strangely clear for a man of his age. “My daughters! My flock! It warms this old man’s heart to see you all so dedicated to finding the Answer!”

  But something tells me you are not about to give it.

  “These are the end times!” the priest continued. “Evil is everywhere! Lucifer is among us, and here he shall remain until the coming of the Lord! This is why we must remain vigilant! This is why we must keep saying our prayers! This is why we must stay true! For the devil never sleeps!”

  Lucifer?

  “But to what end?” a woman shouted. “Haven’t we already been left behind?”

  From the way everyone looked at her, the Nameless concluded that she must have been new there.

  “Nonbeliever!” someone shouted.

  “This is all your fault!” someone else added. “It’s because of you that we suffer!”

  “I didn’t do anything!” the nonbeliever shouted back. She would have said something else too, but the crowd caved in on her within seconds.

  “STOP IT!”

  The priest’s voice cut their racket like a knife. The people around the Nameless all moved back in unison, and he was forced to do the same. Just barely, he managed to get a quick glance of the nonbeliever. She was slowly getting up, somewhat battered but very much alive.

  “You are deluded, my children,” the priest continued. “You keep trying to shift the blame, refusing to acknowledge that the Lord sees and knows all!” He pointed his finger at the assailants. “You claim you are pious, then dare to judge! You say you want blessings, but bathe in sin! You desire Heaven, but create your own Hell! This is why you have been left behind!”

  Not a single voice escaped from the crowd anymore.

  “My daughter, you have been wronged,” the priest said, apparently to the so-called nonbeliever. “To atone for their sins, I will answer your questions.”

  “I… I have so many,” the nonbeliever said. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Admitting to not knowing is the first step toward knowing,” the priest said.

  “I understand,” she said. “Father, this is my second sermon. But it is the first time I’ve voiced my doubts. And I fear voicing them again.”

  “Nonsense!” the priest said. “You have my protection, child! None shall lay a finger on you, here or elsewhere!” His expression changed into that of anger. “And damned be the soul of anyone who does!”

  The nonbeliever hesitated for a good couple of seconds before she finally decided to speak again.

  “What’s the point of everything? I mean, haven’t we already been…written off?”

  “No one is written off in God’s eyes,” the priest said. “The Lord does not punish for the sake of punishing. Instead, he does it for the sake of teaching. There may yet be a chance for you to reclaim your place at His side. But for that, you must remain dedicated. You cannot waver in your search for the Answer.

  “He will reappear among us,” the priest continued. “Among all that remain. He will judge us again, both you and I. And only those who have followed the teachings He left for us will be allowed into Heaven! This, I fear, will be our last chance!” The priest lowered his head and closed his eyes. “After that, the only thing left will be the pit!”

  The crowd shuddered collectively, although the Nameless failed to understand why. After all, was Hell that much worse than the circumstances they lived in?

  “But if God took all true believers away fifteen years ago,” she said, “then why are you still here?”

  The shrine went silent once more.

  “Is it not obvious?” the priest said. “To spread the word. If not for the Church, who would have shown you the way?”

  Or the Answer you keep avoiding?

  “We of the cloth have thrown our old lives away,” the priest said. “We have cast off our old shrouds and replaced them with the Light! It is for the sake of everyone else that we walk this world. We seek not to hoard, my daughter, but to give.”

  “And what of those who refuse to follow the teachings?” the nonbeliever asked. She quickly corrected herself. “I don’t mean me. I mean in general.”

  “Nothing but agents of Satan,” the priest said. “Unwilling and unaware, but agents of Satan nonetheless! It is them who we should fear the most, for they are the unseen blade! But instead of rending flesh, they sear the spirit! And it is through those wounds that Lucifer gets in! Do you not see?”

  “I… I think I do,” the nonbeliever said. “Can I have one more question, please?”

  “Of course.”

  “If they are unwilling but unaware,” the nonbeliever said, “then what sets them apart from me?”

  “That is simple,” the priest said, his eyes smiling. “You are here, and willing to learn. Are you not?”

  “Yes,” she said, somewhat relieved. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I think I am.”

  “Today, you think,” the priest said. “Tomorrow you will know. And the day after that, there will not be a single doubt within you!” He waved his hand, surprisingly fast for an old man. “My children! Your sister has had an epiphany! Lift her up and bring her to me! It is time for her baptism!”

  A cacophony of voices filled the air as the believers swarmed around the woman. A moment later, she floated out on top of the mass, being carried up to the priest.

  “There is nothing to fear!” he shouted as they put her up in front of him. “As the water washes away the sin, so does it cleanse both body and spirit! My daughter, what is your name?”

  “Mary Anne Simmons,” she said as she lowered her head. She was thin, clothed in something quite plain, and of brown hair.

  “Mary Anne,” the priest said, “do you accept this honor? Do you accept this obligation?”

  “I do,” she said.

  “Then proceed,” he said, pointing toward the large door behind him. Apparently, it led to an unexposed part of the shrine. “The Kingdom of Heaven awaits.”

  Humbly, the woman proceeded inside. Her steps were slow, as if she still had doubts.

  “My children!” the priest bellowed. “I am needed! Thus, I must retir
e! But do not think for a moment that my eyes, as well as those of our Lord, are not upon you! Live your lives the way you are meant to, and the reward will be great. Stray from the path, and may the Lord have mercy on your souls!”

  With those words, he turned around, disappearing into the passage. The doors closed behind him a moment later.

  This is it? the Nameless thought as the people bumped into him. Barely a second had passed since the priest had retreated, and everyone was already on their way elsewhere. What a waste of time.

  He turned toward the elevator, but the current carried him toward the food stands instead. Not wanting to lose more time, he pushed and shoved, but it was of no use. Although unfocused, their strength of numbers was immense.

  This gives me an idea. He turned toward a man to his side.

  “Sir!” he shouted. “I wish to learn more of the Church and its teachings.”

  “Well you’ve come to the right place, then!” the man shouted back.

  “Yet it ended so abruptly,” the Nameless said. “I wish to know more. Can you help me?”

  “There’s only one piece of advice to give, brother,” the man said. “Keep coming to the sermons!”

  “I am pressed for time,” the Nameless said. “I cannot come to every sermon. But I still seek the Answer.”

  The man’s expression changed to one of disdain. “If you can’t spare the time for your own soul, stranger, then I’m afraid you’re beyond help.”

  “I… I can buy you lunch,” the Nameless said.

  “Lunch?” The man was practically foaming at the mouth. “I stand out there for most of the day, every day, and you think you can buy what I have earned with lunch? Piss off!”

  That was worth a try, I guess.

  “I apologize,” the Nameless said.

  “Piss! Off!” the man shouted.

  I think I will have lunch myself, the Nameless thought as he turned toward the nearest stand. The man’s eyes followed him for as long as they could.

  He picked the first thing out of the menu, had it packaged, and proceeded to the elevator. Back at the third floor, he unpacked the meal on his way home.

  That was… mostly useless.

  He took a bite of his chicken. As always, it was tasty but somewhat over-spiced.

  Their claims were mostly outrageous as well. Satan?

  He greeted some guards and turned around the corner. For a moment, he entertained the thought of himself being the devil. He did feed on death, after all.

  The Nameless laughed as he ate, almost making a mess of his one good suit. Careful, he told himself. He would need it to stay presentable.

  Why?

  Most certainly not for the sheriff or the Cleanup Crew. The former did not care, and the latter could go and graze for all he cared. For whom, then? Lydia?

  Ridiculous.

  In front of his door, the Nameless hesitated opening it. For two days, his home had been a prison. A place of nothingness, where the most exciting feature was the ceiling. He did not even bother to check out the black screen box-thing.

  It does not have to be like that. Things are moving again. He stuck the key inside the lock, turning it to the left. After all, where else am I supposed to sleep?

  The Nameless opened the door, feeling a slight resistance along the way. What!

  He leapt backwards, his free hand disappearing inside his pocket. His gaze went down, quickly falling on the source of distress: an envelope, apparently delivered while he was away.

  Slowly, he approached, letting go of the revolver. After checking for guards left and right, he knelt down and picked the letter up. With both his hands occupied, he stepped inside and shut the door with his shoulder.

  He turned the envelope around. Nothing was written on it. He approached the table, put the chicken down, and opened the letter.

  109, it read.

  A room number? It had to be.

  I was not that hungry anyway, he thought as he turned back to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  His fingers wrapped firmly around the grip of his revolver, the Nameless knocked on the door. “Wallace,” it said in writing.

  “Took you long enough,” a man said as he opened it. He was tall, blond, and appeared familiar. “Come in.”

  “And you are?” the Nameless said, not moving an inch.

  “We’ve met. I’m Eagle,” the man said. “But you can call me Mark. Care to step inside?”

  Is this a trap of some sort? The Nameless looked at the wall behind the man. Its appearance was strange, almost metallic.

  “How do I know this is not some kind of set-up?” he said.

  “Right. You don’t. Not until I show you some good faith, right?” Mark said. “Very well. Do I look like someone you know?” As if to prove his point, he turned his head left and right.

  Yes, that nose does indeed seem familiar. The Nameless scanned the man’s features. “The sheriff,” he said. “You are related in some way.”

  “Precisely,” Mark said. “As a matter of fact, you’re talking to your boss’ son.” He stepped to the side. “I think you can safely step in now. After all, I have nothing to gain if something happens to you.”

  Still clutching his gun and with careful movements, the Nameless entered the apartment. As Mark shut the door behind him, he again noted the strange, metallic structure of the walls.

  “What are these for?” he asked, careful of not turning his back to the man.

  “To make the place soundproof,” Mark said.

  Like a bolt of lightning, the Nameless’ revolver flashed before his face. The silvery barrel now rested an inch away from Mark’s nose. Despite this, he did not even blink.

  “That reaction,” he said. “The fastest damn reflexes I’ve ever seen. Father might not have been full of it after all.”

  “Are we the only people inside this place?” the Nameless asked. “Do you have an ambush lined up for me?”

  “Calm down. We’re alone,” Mark said. “I was just curious. Although, I haven’t lied. My home is soundproof.”

  “And why would it be?”

  “So I can relax in my own way,” Mark said as he pointed to the door at the end of the hallway. “If you will.”

  “I would rather go after you,” the Nameless said.

  “Fine.” Mark sighed. He lifted both arms in the air without being asked to, and walked up to the door. The Nameless followed him every step of the way.

  “This might come as a surprise, so please keep that trigger under control,” Mark said as he turned the knob.

  The Nameless did not want to answer. However, what he saw in the other room made him do so regardless.

  “How?” he said, gaping at the arsenal Mark had in his living room, if one could call it that. Rifles, pistols, sabers and suits of armor hung on one side, while half-broken dummies with targets on their torsos decorated the other.

  “It demands a whole lot of time and dedication, lemme tell you,” Mark said as he turned around. “Of course, having a high-ranking dad doesn’t hurt.”

  “And you spend your free time… having fun in here?” the Nameless asked.

  “More or less,” Mark said. “I go out occasionally, although not that much these days. I’d ask you to sit,” he grinned, “but I’m afraid this room has no seats.”

  “I will manage,” the Nameless said as he fully stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “You are an unusual man, Mark. Although I cannot imagine why you chose to show me this.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate it more than coffee,” Mark said.

  “You thought right. Consider me impressed,” the Nameless said. He knows where I spend my own spare time?

  “Good. Does that mean you will lower your weapon now?”

  “Indeed,” the Nameless said, doing just that. Compared to everything in the room, the revolver was not all that intimidating anyway. “Not to lessen the impact of your collection, but I assume that you have called me over for more than that.�
�

  “Of course I have,” Mark said. “You and I are to work together, and I thought we’d bond over some target practice. But before that, there is another major thing I have to warn you about.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Divine and the Grin are plotting against you.”

  “Hardly surprising,” the Nameless said. “They appear to have a thorough dislike of me.”

  “Oh, they do,” Mark said. “Believe me, I know.”

  “They confide in you?” the Nameless asked.

  “Of course not!” Mark laughed. “They wouldn’t be caught dead exchanging one word they didn’t have to with me. No, you see, I had Divine bugged.”

  “You… had her covered in insects?”

  “Hah! Geez, man, you weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t know your way around tech.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “You’d be surprised with what I see every day,” Mark said. “Mind if I call you Bones?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, Bones,” Mark said, as he pointed for both of them to proceed toward a weapons stand. “I had several items in Divine’s possession marked with a little thing that lets me hear everything that gets spoken around her. So I’ve heard her conspiring with the Grin.”

  “And you have all your colleagues marked like that?” the Nameless asked.

  “Not at all,” Mark said. “Just her. We have some history, the two of us. Things got rough. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, from time to time I check up on her. Just to make sure she’s okay, right? And, you know, several days ago, I overheard a little conversation she had with the Grin.”

  “And they plan to… do what to me?”

  “Poison you,” Mark said. He extended his hand, and let the Nameless take his pick among the various firearms. “Tranquilize you, to be more exact. Drug you so you either get killed or fail horribly during our next mission.”

  No more drugs, please. Although he was tempted to try something new, the Nameless took on the standard-issue rifle of Babylon’s police force. After all, every guard carried one around, so it would be the easiest to come by in case of an emergency. Holding it in his hands, he turned it around several times to get re-used to the weight. Compared to the way it felt when he was broken or on Rush’s concoctions, it was completely different.