Reckoning in an Undead Age

by A. M. Geever

  “He’s my brother. I have to try.”

  Walter didn’t agree. Mario could tell from the thin line of his lips, and the flash of anger in his hazel eyes, but he didn’t say more. From where he sat between Walter and Rupert in the back seat of a massive, old Suburban SUV, Mario resumed looking out the windshield.

  “Don’t worry, Father,” Victor said. Mario saw him glance in the rearview mirror. “Nobody’s getting their hands on him. That’s why Doug is here.”

  Doug, in the front passenger seat, said, “To get him out of trouble or take his place?”

  “The former would be better, but the latter will do, if all else fails,” Victor said, grinning.

  How he could joke right now, Mario had no idea. The tension filling the vehicle felt like a bomb with a glitchy trigger device. Victor turned the old Suburban around the corner, then hit the brakes hard. The shoulder strap of Mario’s seat belt engaged, holding him in place. A large crowd—at least five hundred—was assembled in the street and down the block outside the city jail. Signs dotted the crowd, a lot of them with slogans along the lines of “Both Santorellos Must Go,” and “He made a vaccine. He’s still a war criminal.”

  Without saying a word, Victor turned in his seat, arm across its back, and backed up fast. When they were a hundred yards past the corner they had just turned, he U-turned and drove them in the opposite direction. The Suburban was a boat of a vehicle, and the street narrow. Mario wasn’t sure how he managed it. A minute later, they had circled around into an alley at the far end of the block behind the jail.

  “New plan,” Victor said, taking the next turn and pulling to the curb. He turned to speak over the seat. “Father Walter, I need you to go in. Ask for Julio Fontalva, tell him I sent you and that you want to see Dominic. He owes me a favor. After he takes you down, I need him to come get us at the employee entrance, get us down to where you’ll be visiting with Dominic, and then get us out.”

  “How do you know all this?” Mario asked.

  “Not relevant,” Victor said.

  “Why didn’t you do this in the first place?” Walter asked, incredulous.

  “Because I didn’t want to call in a favor unless we really needed it.”

  Victor radiated authority and calm, dismissing Walter’s question as done and dusted in a way Mario had seen few people do. More surprising was that Walter accepted his explanation without another word.

  “If Doug, Mario, and I go inside, and that’s a big if,” he said, giving Mario a hard look. “Rupert, you’ll stay with the vehicle. If that crowd approaches and you think they’re going to cause problems, if somebody looks at you wrong, leave. Will you do that?”

  “Yes,” Rupert said.

  “I need to see my brother, not run away if people look at us funny,” Mario said, feeling that the situation was spinning out of his control.

  “No,” Victor said. “We need to make sure you’re not grabbed by anyone who might want to make an example of you. Seeing your brother is a bonus.”

  “But—”

  “You’re either letting me run this, or you’re not,” Victor said, cutting him off. “If you aren’t, we’re leaving right now.”

  Mario looked to Doug, who sat in the passenger seat, for support. Doug shook his head.

  “He’s right, Mario. We do it his way, or we’re done here.”

  He stared at Doug, gobsmacked. Victor didn’t give a shit if he saw his brother or not, and apparently, neither did Doug.

  “What happens when we do it your way, get back here, and Rupert’s gone? Then what?”

  “Walter doesn’t need protection. He can leave separately if necessary. You, Doug, and I will run two blocks south, to the trashed red Lexus I parked there last night. And if that one doesn’t work, we keep going to the next one.”

  Anger rushed through Mario’s body, making his muscles hum. He wanted to punch Victor, puncture his calm and collected authority, just to get a reaction. He hadn’t realized when they put Victor in charge their goals were different, and that the former mercenary wasn’t invested in what Mario wanted, but making sure that he wasn’t detained.

  “Okay,” he said, knowing he had to agree. “But next time, tell me what your objectives really are so I don’t waste my time.”

  Victor said, “I did. You just weren’t listening. Father Walter, do you mind?”

  Walter nodded, fumbling for the handle, and exited the Suburban. Mario watched him walk up the alley that ran along the building until he reached the corner at the front of the jail and turned out of sight. The next fifteen minutes passed in tense silence, until a door of the jail building along the alley opened. A short, slim man stepped out from the door and scanned the area.

  “Okay,” Victor said. “That’s Julio. Let’s go.”

  Rupert got behind the wheel as Victor, Mario, and Doug walked quickly to the door. They followed Julio inside, then paused when the door closed behind them.

  “What the hell are you doing back in town, man? And what are you doing with these guys?” Julio said to Victor, his tone warm, but the expression on his thin face incredulous.

  “Long story,” Victor said.

  Julio looked increasingly unhappy while Victor explained what they needed: a way in for Mario to see Dominic, and if it came to it, help getting him out. He ran a hand across his face, then over his short black hair.

  “I owe you, brother, but ¡Santa Madre de Dios!” Julio said. “I’ll do my best. He’s got five minutes in there, tops. If I say we need to go, we go.”

  “That’s all we need,” Victor said.

  Julio scowled. “I should have known you’d call in your favor for something like this. Damn, Victor.” He added, to everyone, “Keep your weapons holstered, just so we aren’t escalating anything unnecessarily. C’mon.”

  He led them down the long institutional-gray corridor. They passed a stairwell door on the right, then Julio motioned for them to stay back as he approached the corner. On Julio’s left, a door marked LOCKER ROOM opened. Julio blocked the door.

  “Give me five minutes, man.”

  Whoever was inside the locker room door said, “What?”

  “Give me five minutes and later on, you can honestly say you had no idea.”

  A pause, then the voice said, “Okay, Julio.”

  The door closed, and Julio motioned them by. They entered the next stairwell and started down, footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. At the next landing, Julio turned to them.

  “Wait here. If I’m not back in five minutes, go out the way you came.”

  Mario’s pulse skyrocketed. He wanted to scream with frustration at Julio’s instructions and Victor’s nod. He wasn’t doing this to not see Dominic. He was also questioning why the hell he was doing this. Why was he risking his safety for the man who’d tried to kill him? All he could come up with was a lifetime of obligation and habit that left him unable to turn away. They’d been through too much growing up, and however much he didn’t want to admit it, he still loved his little brother.

  Julio returned, now holding a ring of keys. Mario shoved his frustration and doubts aside, angry that he was in this situation, and knowing he had only himself to blame.

  “Let’s go,” Julio said.

  They followed him down the corridor, toward the front of the building, and took the first right. Julio almost walked into a tall, beefy guard. The air became charged, the line between calm and violence only a hair’s breadth. Mario flicked the snap on his holster, curling his hand around the grip of his Sig.

  “What the fuck, man?” Julio said.

  The man glanced past Julio to Mario and his companions. His eyebrows seemed to levitate to his hairline.

  “I had to come back for—”

  “Just get the fuck out of here,” Julio snapped. “You didn’t see no one, got it?”

  Despite the fact that the man towered over Julio, he beat a hasty retreat, the steel doors behind them clunking open and shut. Two bulletproof glass and steel s
ecurity doors formed a checkpoint into the lockup.

  Julio turned the lock on the first door, then the second, and motioned them through. He tossed a wooden wedge to Victor, then started to work a key off the ring.

  “Prop this door, Victor, but not enough that it’ll look open from down the hall, and stand inside the checkpoint. I’ll be out here. He’s near the end, where the priest is,” Julio said, motioning with a jut of his chin. He handed Victor the key. “This opens the doors at the far end of the cell block. When I tell you to go, go that way. Take the stairs up one flight to the hallway you entered into the building. Only difference is you’ll be closer to the exit.” He checked his watch. “Five minutes.”

  “Why didn’t we just come in by that door?” Doug said.

  “Only opens from this side,” Julio then said to Victor. “Punch me.”

  Victor said, “Really?”

  Julio glared at him. Victor threw the punch so fast that Mario didn’t see it, just Julio staggering back against the counter. He stood for a moment, dazed.

  “Doug, cover our exit,” Victor said, tossing him the key.

  “God damn,” Julio muttered, his eyes watering as he held his face and waved them through.

  Doug fell in step beside Mario. They walked down the long corridor, Doug and the concrete wall on his right, cells on his left. They were all empty, with the doors open and lights off, thin foam mats rolled up on the cots. It looked just as grim as Mario had imagined. Walter met them at the cell before Dominic’s. He patted Mario’s shoulder.

  “Wait with me, Walter,” Doug said.

  Lights were on in the next cell. Mario could see his brother at the bars, looking at him. Doug and Walter continued on, to stand by the exit.

  As Mario drew near, Dominic said, “I knew you’d come.”

  Dominic’s hair was washed, and while he looked haggard, it was clear he wasn’t being maltreated. The priests would have insisted on that. As soon as he laid eyes on Mario, confidence blossomed across his brother’s face.

  Mario stared at him for a moment, realizing that his reasons for coming here couldn’t be more different than Dominic’s reasons for asking him to come. Somehow, he was only figuring that out now, and it felt like a punch to gut.

  “What do you want?” he said, the words scraping against his gritted teeth, already regretting his decision to come here. What on Earth had made him think that this was worth the risk of never being with Miranda and his family again?

  “I want you to get me out of here.” When Mario didn’t say anything, Dominic added hastily, “I know I fucked up. I should never have gone after you like I did, and I’m—”

  “Gone after me?” Mario said, his voice rising in disbelief.

  Dominic flinched, his brown eyes betraying the telltale desire to shift the blame for his actions somewhere else. “You don’t understand,” he said, but his voice trailed under Mario’s withering glare.

  “I understand that you tried to kill me. I understand that if Miranda hadn’t lost the baby, you would have killed our child.”

  Dominic blanched. “I couldn’t have known, Mario. I didn’t—”

  “What about Walter and Doug? Did you know then?” he demanded. “I saw you on that gallows while the ropes were put around their necks!”

  “Mario, listen to—”

  “You’ve let thousands of people turn, Dominic—thousands—so that you could be powerful and important, and now you want me to get you out of here?”

  “Do you think you’re any better?” Dominic countered, the venom in his voice like ice.

  The accusation felt like a blow. Not because it wasn’t true, but because of the man making it. Mario could feel his heart shrinking, becoming so small it would fit on the head of a pin. Dominic hadn’t asked to see him because they shared the kind of bond only siblings can—because they were brothers. Mario could see, for the first time, that Dominic didn’t understand why Mario had provoked their father so that he’d get the beating. He didn’t get why Mario got him out of childhood scrapes or gave him a job when he couldn’t settle down to the realities of being an adult.

  He’d protected his brother because that’s what big brothers do, because he loved him, but Dominic didn’t get it. He didn’t get any of it. He saw Mario as a means to an end. Dominic needed something, and he thought Mario could get it for him, and that was all.

  Mario took a shuddering breath. It felt like there was no air in the room. His throat closed, as if it didn’t want him to say the words. “I tried to protect you and Mom from Dad. I tried to protect you from everything, I really did. You’re my brother, Dominic, and I love you, but I can’t protect you from this."

  He turned away, blinking back the tears in his eyes. Dominic reached through the bars and grabbed his arm. Mario could see that it had never occurred to him that Mario couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help him.

  “You can get me out of here; I know you can! Walter forgave me. Why can’t you?” His grip on Mario’s arm tightened, and his voice got mean. “You owe me!”

  From the checkpoint, Mario heard Julio say, “You need to go! Now!”

  Victor’s pounding footsteps approached them. Mario heard the metallic slide of the key, then the snick of the lock on the door Doug was opening. A calm came over him, smooth and cold, pushing the heat of the pain away. He wrenched his arm from Dominic’s grip.

  “I don't owe you this, Dom,” he said softly. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Mario!” Dominic screamed, his face purple with rage.

  Mario was already turning away. Figures gathered outside the checkpoint at the other end of the lockup, shouting at Julio. He stood in the way, arms gesticulating wildly, doing his best to block the narrow confines of the checkpoint.

  Victor’s large hand shoved against Mario’s back, hurrying him. Doug slammed the door behind them shut, the tumblers of the locks falling into place. Doug snapped the key off in the lock, a manic grin on his face. They dashed up the stairwell, muffled but furious shouts and pounding on the door below following them.

  Mario and Doug each grabbed one of Walter’s arms, hurrying him along.

  “I can keep up,” Walter snapped, but his raspy voice betrayed his injuries from almost being hanged, and his breathing was labored.

  They exploded into the corridor they’d traveled not ten minutes before. Voices and heavy footfalls were coming from the T junction of the hallway where it met the locker room. As Doug pushed the door to the alleyway open, a voice behind them shouted, “It’s him! It’s Santorello!”

  They tumbled into the alleyway.

  The Suburban wasn’t there.

  “This way,” Victor said, pointing south as he strong-armed Mario forward.

  “I can’t keep up,” Walter said. “Go without me.”

  He smiled, that nervous, tentative smile that betrayed his shyness. At least he didn’t have to worry about his safety. That’s what he said, anyway. Mario hoped to God it was true, because the mob definitely wanted him, and Walter had just been seen helping him flee.

  He ran hard, boots striking the pavement. He almost kept pace with Doug, who had always been faster. As they reached the end of the alleyway, Mario heard the door behind them slam open. But in those two seconds, they were already around the corner. Victor pulled alongside him, eyes flashing with determination, and Mario ran—like his life depended on it.

  Doug peeked over Miranda’s shoulder to where Mario sat in the front row of the Mission Church with Emily and the kids, except for Violet. “Are you sure he’s up for this? He looked pretty shaken up.”

  “All he has to do is be a guest. If anything’s bothering him, it’s that now this is a rush job.”

  Doug frowned, not sure he agreed with her assessment of Mario’s state of mind. It had taken them two hours to get back to campus, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse with the mob baying for Mario’s blood. Miranda was right, though; it was happening now, ninety minutes after their return.

  A nervo
us thrill zipped through him, making his stomach flutter. He looked at the rows of carved chairs of dark wood that were used in place of pews in the Mission Church. Every time he stole a look into the sanctuary from the sacristy, there were more people. Doug stepped back, and Miranda closed the door.

  “There were supposed to be like, ten people, in secret, but it’s almost full,” Doug said. “How did that happen?”

  Miranda grinned at him. “How did you think that Father Doug Michel getting married was going to stay a secret?”

  Doug shrugged and gnawed on his fingernail. “I didn’t really think about it.”

  Miranda pulled his hand away from his mouth and took it in hers. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a low barrette, and she was wearing makeup. Just a little eyeliner, blush, and lip gloss, but it made her even prettier. She wore a green, flowy dress, with long sleeves and simple lines, and a pair of silvery flats. The outfit suited her.

  “You look really nice, Miri.”

  She looked up at him. “You know Karen did this all this. You look amazing. I’m glad she got a blue suit. It brings out your eyes.”

  He twitched his hair out of his eyes. “Karen’s in her element with this stuff.”

  “I had to draw the line at wearing heels. You should have seen the death traps she wanted me to wear.” Her grin grew wider. “Wait till you see Skye.”

  The butterflies flared up again. His body felt like it did when he was climbing a mountain or fighting zombies—totally amped and ready to do something—but the only thing he could do was wait.

  “Is it time yet? Shouldn’t Walter be here by now?”

  “He’ll come in from the arbor; go see. You’re fidgeting like crazy.”

  “I’m nervous as hell,” he admitted.

  “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Now scoot.”

  In seconds he was tugging at the door that opened near the long wisteria arbor that ran parallel to the church. It’s too bad it’s the wrong time of year, he thought. It would have been nice for Skye to see the wisteria in bloom and smell the heavy perfume of the clumps of trailing purple flowers that hung from the gnarled vines. Walter was hurrying his way, talking to Brother Rupert.