Kade

by Christopher Woods

  “Maybe some sort of lizard,” Michael said. “Some lizards can live long lives.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Either way, he’s gonna be a handful when we find him. He’s strong enough to be a danger, but if he’s a Geno Freak, he’s probably got the speed to go with it, and there’s no tellin’ what else. We need to be careful.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Regardless, we need to head for Plagis,” I said, pointing at the spot on the tunnel map. “Portus, we need to get here.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered.

  “And I’d increase forces in these two areas, as well,” Michael added. “If we’re right, he’ll hit under Plagis. If not, it is highly likely he’ll hit one of these two.”

  “I will contact the patrol and let them know as soon as we get to a point where we have comm systems.”

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s get movin’.”

  Portus started back up the tunnel we had come down to get here, and we fell in line behind him.

  If I had been an Agent back then instead of just a cop, Gladson said in my head, I’d have found this guy.

  “Maybe,” I muttered.

  “What?” Michael asked behind me.

  “Nothin’,” I answered. “Just talkin’ to myselves.”

  He chuckled.

  Agents only had one personality at a time, Childers said. It may not have helped to be an Agent when you pursued the guy back then.

  True, Gladson admitted.

  Many of the personalities in my head had just been regular people. Every Agent came from somewhere. Somewhere out there was a body that belonged to a former homicide detective who became an Agent. His body could be dead or stuck somewhere as whatever it was programmed to be when the bombs fell. It could be a damn Clown, for all I knew. It could even be Samuel Gladson, survivor of the Fall. His most current program would still be in the database. Any number of people could be out there that are in my head, as well.

  It worried me that there could be another Stephen Gaunt.

  I’m mildly offended, Gaunt’s voice said. But I often worry about the same thing.

  I giggled.

  “Did he just giggle?” Lindsey asked.

  “I believe so.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” I said.

  “Must be an interesting conversation going on in there,” she said.

  “Sounds that way.”

  Sometimes a little crazy is all you need to keep sane in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 8

  “What’s that sound?” Lindsey asked.

  I had noticed a clanking sound coming from in front of us. There was a noticeable movement of air around us, too.

  “We are nearing one of the ventilation stations,” Portus said. “It is shorter to cut through the area than to go around.”

  We rounded a corner and found a large room with immense fan blades suspended far up in the shafts in the ceiling. I could see the huge electric motors above the fans. They were disconnected from the fan assemblies.

  “Motors burned out?” I asked.

  “About five years ago,” he answered. “They are driven by the belts under the motors now. We have five shifts that work the fans. Ten people per fan on each five hour shift.”

  “Hard job,” Michael said.

  “Yes,” Portus said. “But it is probably the most important job in the Tees. There are twenty of these ventilation stations in our territory. All but one are manually operated, now. One still has power, but it is expected to fail at any moment.”

  “I can see the importance,” I said. “Without the air flow, no one can survive down here.”

  “There are already people on the lists waiting to be hired as others finish their service,” he said. “Every Mardin will serve at the Vents at some point in their lives. I did my service when I reached my eighteenth year. It was an honor to serve my people in such an important task. Most of us do our Vent service when we reach adulthood. Afterward, we are considered Citizens and have the right to live in the Tees.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said.

  “There are three services,” Portus said. “In a Mardin’s life, he or she will perform these three services. Each brings the Citizen to a higher level in the citizenry.”

  “My guess is the Vents and Water are two of them,” I said.

  “That they are,” Portus said. “The Sewer is the third. It is the hardest of the three services to do. But a Citizen can never be eligible to vote for or become an Advisor unless they have done all three. It is also the one we have to hire outsiders to help with. Some Mardins are happy without the right to vote. All are required to serve in one to stay in the Tees. Two gives them the right to be a patroller. Three grants them full citizenship.”

  “I like that setup, for some reason,” I said. “To lead, you must walk through the shit of a city.”

  “The Accords leave us responsible for the water pipes and the sewer flow,” Portus said. “That is why they are requirements to become full Citizens. The Vents are what keep us alive.”

  “And the power?”

  “Dynamo needs water, too,” Portus chuckled. “We did not come away from the Accords with nothing, Mr. Kade.”

  I laughed.

  “I guess you guys can deal with the Farmers in any sector over your territory, too,” Lindsey said.

  “Most of them, though we deal mostly while the Farmers are in Wilderman or Kathrop,” he said. “Of course, it seems there is a growing area in the center of the city that is becoming safer and safer.”

  “Hmm,” Michael said. “I wonder why?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Lindsey said.

  “Are the Farmers anywhere near where we’re headed?” I asked.

  “They are around the Kathrop area over the next week,” Portus said.

  “That’s a shame,” I said. “There was a wagon with tacos the last time I saw ‘em.”

  “I haven’t had a decent taco in over twenty years,” Michael said.

  “What the hell is a taco?” Lindsey asked.

  “Kids today,” Michael said and shook his head.

  “Who are you calling a kid, you old bastard?”

  “Someone who’s never had a damn taco.”

  “I bet I could make a taco,” she muttered.

  “Oh my God, woman!” Michael snorted. “You can’t even boil water.”

  “Bite me, you damn fossil!”

  I was trying not to, but I may have giggled again.

  “You shut up, you giggling bastard!”

  She stomped past me and fell in behind Portus.

  “Sad part is,” I said, tapping the side of my head, “there’s all these people up here, and none of ‘em know how to make a damn tortilla.”

  “Why didn’t you ask the Farmer?”

  “Cause I’m a dumb ass.”

  We turned south into a larger tunnel. There were steel tracks in the center where the subways used to run. A noise was coming from ahead of us.

  “Please move to the side,” Portus said. “Cart is coming through.”

  The noise approached our position, and soon, I saw a large cart with a load of dirt and rocks. The sides of the cart had handles protruding. Each had a Mardin behind it. They pushed the cart past us, then Portus returned to the center of the tunnel.

  “We are excavating a collapsed tunnel that used to lead to the central hub of the railways.”

  “Surprised all the rails haven’t been pulled up for the steel,” I said.

  “We use the rails,” he said. “There are a lot of unused tunnels with rails that will never be used.”

  “You could pull in a good amount of scrip with that steel,” I said. “Perhaps, you might put in a word to the bosses about the idea. I know a blacksmith who could use a good source of strong steel.”

  “That might interest the King,” Portus said.

  �
�Just let me know, and I’ll put you in touch with Soba,” I said. “He is really just gettin’ started with larger orders, but the man is good.”

  “I will relay this to Gevik, my superior.”

  “Good.”

  “There’s a noticeable lack of sewer smell down here, excepting the area under Dunn,” Michael said. “It kind of surprised me.”

  “The sewers are ventilated by completely different systems than our tunnels. It is a common mistake for surface dwellers to think we live in the sewers.”

  “You’re right about the rumors,” Michael said.

  “It does serve to keep fewer surface dwellers from trying to explore our territory.”

  “More light than I had expected,” Lindsey said. “For that I am grateful.”

  “There’s very little lighting here, Mrs. Tanzik,” Portus said. “Your eyes are adapting to the darkness and finding more residual light than before.”

  “I just thought it was brighter, here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Michael said. “I think he’s right, though. We probably are getting better at seeing in the dark.”

  I smiled behind the two. They actually agreed with each other every so often.

  “We’ll be near the southern edge of our territory when we turn east,” Portus said. “We will have to be careful; we have incursions from the southern territories pretty frequently. Most of the Patrol spends its time on the borders of our territory, but numerous Patrols have been pulled to cover the three areas you designated.”

  “It figures,” I said.

  “Don’t you even say it,” Lindsey warned.

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Expect the worst, and you’re never disappointed.”

  “Damn, woman!” Michael exclaimed, and his hand hovered near the sword on his left side. “Now, you’ve already said it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if one of us says it,” she said. “It just matters if he says it.”

  I heard noises from the southern tunnels, and I smiled at her.

  “Doesn’t it?” she asked nervously.

  I chuckled.

  “You’re shitting me! What was that sound?”

  “It sounds like someone is having a spot of fun, ahead,” I said with Gaunt’s precise voice.

  “Son of a bitch…” she muttered as Portus turned toward us in alarm.

  I nodded toward the man. “We’ll lend a hand, Portus. Follow as you can.”

  I drew the Sig with my right hand, and the straight razor with my left. Launching myself forward with my enhanced speed, I quickly left the three behind. The tunnel curved, and I could hear the clash of weapons and the grunts of fighters just ahead.

  I rounded the bend and took in the sight ahead of me. There were eight Mardins in two staggered lines of four. In front of them was a tunnel full of pale-skinned attackers. They wielded swords, much like the Mardins did, but there was no organization to their ranks, which was why the Mardins had held their ground so far—their formation supported one another.

  I took aim and fired the Sig. One of the attackers in the front line lurched as a small dot appeared in his forehead, and the back of his head blossomed with the exit of the bullet. One of the defenders took a blade in his side and staggered backward. The man to his left in the staggered formation stepped forward and took his place.

  The Sig coughed, and the action slid again, as the second of the attackers toppled backward with a spray of blood from the back of his head. The Sig spouted fire twice more, and two more of the lead attackers were slammed backward.

  Then a form shot by me at full speed. Michael, with a sword in each hand, had launched himself over the heads of the Mardins and landed in the opening I had just created. His swords blurred, and blood sprayed in several directions. Lindsey shot past me, aiming for the left wall where the line had been weakest. She bounded over the Mardin and hit the wall with both feet. Her blade flashed as she rebounded behind the attacker in front of the Mardin, and he staggered as his spine was severed just below the spot where it joined his skull. Lindsey began to weave in and out of the startled attackers, and bodies slumped to the floor.

  The two of them took center in the Mardins’ formation, and the surprised Mardins stepped forward and resumed the staggered formation around the two Squires. Before our arrival, the line had been pushed backward several times. Now they stepped forward.

  I shot two more times, and two more fell. They were on the right side of the tunnel, so I switched to the left and fired two more times. One fell, but the other moved just in time to survive…for about a second. I fired a second round and obtained the expected blossom from his head.

  Getting sloppy, old man.

  “Hush,” I said and shot a woman on the right side of the tunnel.

  The lines stepped forward again, and I could see two forms in the back of the attacking mob. I fired four times, and those two forms toppled. Two shots apiece just to be sure. Five more forms slumped along the front lines as Michael and Lindsey stepped forward again, flanked by the two Mardins.

  They broke as someone screamed from the back, “Silas is dead!”

  The mob seemed to vanish as they dropped their weapons and ran. Two of them kept their weapons, so I shot them in the backs of their heads. I would have let them go if they had dropped them.

  “You shot those two in the back,” one of the Mardins accused.

  I popped the magazine from the Sig. Calmly, I began reloading the magazine with new rounds from the box in my coat.

  “They should have dropped their weapons,” Lindsey said. “We don’t let them live to fight another day. At least, not with the same weapons.”

  The Mardin started to say something else, until he looked into her cold, pitiless eyes. He turned and joined his Patrol around a wounded fighter.

  “Lardes,” one of them said to the man. “You can make it. We’ll get you to the Medics.”

  “You have to guard the Tees,” he said. “You can’t leave the Tees unguarded.”

  “But you’ll die!”

  “Do your duty, Patroller!”

  “We’ll take him in,” I said as Portus rounded the bend.

  The Patroller looked at me with doubt.

  “You heard him,” Portus said. “I am a Scout. I will show them the way. Get us the stretcher.”

  The Mardin nodded and ran back the way we had come. He returned with a medical stretcher. It was from before the Fall. It looked like a rescue board from a helicopter. They eased the Patroller onto the stretcher, and Portus took one end. Michael sheathed his blades and took the other.

  “We thank you,” the Mardin said.

  I nodded and followed Lindsey behind the two carrying the stretcher.

  “Lesson learned,” Lindsey said as she tried to get the blood off her shirt.

  “Don’t even talk about it,” Michael said.

  “You should wear black,” I said. “Then you can’t see the blood.”

  “Black, hell,” she said, “I’ll wear red if we ever go anywhere else with you.”

  “Shoulda talked to Poe.”

  “Why?”

  “He wore black.”

  I smelled alcohol.

  “We’re close,” I said. “Smell the alcohol and vinegar?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re a couple of cleaners that are easy to make.”

  “I use alcohol at home if I can keep the fossil from drinking it.”

  “You’d have a lot less trouble keepin’ him out of vinegar.”

  She laughed.

  We turned down a side passage, and the smell got stronger. There was a brighter light source ahead which blasted my eyes when we hit the chamber ahead of us. I narrowed my lids to keep the light dim.

  “What is this?”

  “One of the Patrollers was injured in a battle with Silas’ forces,” Portus answered. Two big Mardins closed and took the stretcher from Portus and Michael.

  “You can wait in the outer tunnels
,” the doctor said.

  “We are on a mission and will not be waiting,” Portus said. “Please report to the Patrol about this man when you are done.”

  The doctor nodded. She looked to be about fifty or so. She must have finished her medical degree right before the Fall; it hung behind a desk on the left wall of the room. The Mardins had been extremely lucky to get a true doctor to staff their infirmary. People knowledgeable in the medical field were scarce in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 9

  We exited the infirmary and turned to the east.

  “We keep infirmaries close to all the trouble spots so we can get our men to them quickly,” Portus said. “We have seven facilities set up. All the staff has trained under Doctor Killian, the head of our medic program.”

  “I’m guessin’ that was Killian back there?” Michael asked.

  “Yes. She was a licensed surgeon when the bombs fell, and she took cover in the tunnels with a small group of soldiers. With them was a man named Clyde Mardin. He set up the immediate area around them to hold off attackers and established the original Zone in our territory.”

  “What happened to him?” Lindsey asked.

  “He became ill and turned to a young soldier named Grady O’Neal to keep his people safe. O’Neal is the man who united the territory we call Mardin by both force of arms and diplomacy. They say no one can match him in battle, but I’m not so certain of that anymore.”

  He was looking askance at me. If he only knew. Grady O’Neal was a familiar name to me. He was a soldier and a hero in the War. He was the one who took the Rift. The Rift had been a strip of urban hell. It was an evil piece of civilization and home to a group of terrorists who had been responsible for thousands of civilian deaths.

  Obsidian had sent an Agent with the forces that went into the Rift. His name was Grady O’Neal. Apparently, he’d made a home for himself after the Fall. His was a personality I couldn’t find much of after the dust up in my noggin. I knew he was there, but he was just a shadow in my mind. A lot of the personalities in there were like that. I could access memories, but not much more.