The Twelve Commandments

by Jeff Elkins

  There was rumbling from below. Jose turned to watch the action.

  Chris appeared at the far in the alley. The Mardocks turned to face him. They shoved each other, psyching each other up for the upcoming battle. As they collided with the brick walls to their left and right, the houses shook. Their haunting laughs made Jose angry - how dare they laugh when confronted with a Gracanjo.

  The one on the right hopped and then broke into a run. Chris stood, unmoving. The Mardock closed the space between them. Chris still did not move. Jose tried to imagine which attack Chris would go with. He ran through the ones they’d practice. The numbers and actions cycled through his mind. He knew the Mardock would probably lead with a swiping hook of some kind. They always led with the claws.

  The Mardock was a step away from Chris now. Jose wished he had a better angle. The white, muscled back of the Mardock obstructed his view of Chris. The Mardock lunged with a swipe with his right hand.

  “Always with the claws,” Jose mumbled.

  He could barely make out Chris’ movements. He saw his partner duck the monster’s blow, catch its wrist, and shatter its elbow. Sliding behind the beast, Chris broke its knee and then, when the monster fell, snapped its neck.

  The second Mardock screamed with rage. As its friend hit the pavement, it broke into a sprint toward Chris. Chris responded by running toward it. The Mardock lurched forward with both hands.

  “Always with the claws,” Jose muttered again.

  Like a soccer player going for a slide tackle, Chris moved under the attack by dropping to his thigh below the monster’s reach. He passed between the monster’s legs and popped up behind the beast. The monster quickly spun, swinging its right hand wildly toward Chris, but the Gracanjo took a step away from the Mardock, causing the claws to miss by inches.

  Chris pivoted, and in a smooth motion caught the beast in the throat. Ripping with his fingers, Chris sprayed the black blood in all directions as he tore the Mardock’s throat from its body.

  Chris dropped the throat on the ground and calmly turned to face Bose. With his new pet rat tucked under his right arm, the Conculos clapped slowly. “Bravo. Bravo,” he called.

  Chris wiped the black sludge from his face with the back of his hand. “You shouldn’t have crossed,” he said. “Now you’re going to pay for it.”

  Bose stroked the head of the rat. “Speeches aren’t really your thing. Why don’t we save the words and finish this.”

  Chris laughed and shook his head. “Fine by me,” he said, walking forward.

  Jose stood on his tip toes. In moments like this, Chris seemed bigger than usual. In the heat of battle, when a normal man would turn and run, Chris was at his best. Jose felt a knot form in his throat, but it wasn’t fear for Chris or fear of the action. It was the realization that he will never be the warrior that Chris was. How many partners had Chris lost in battle already? Three times now Jose should have died. The pre-teen knew he was living on borrowed time.

  Chris moved forward unhurriedly. His eyes were locked on his prey. Bose seemed unfazed. He stood quietly, stroking the rat, smiling at Chris. The pre-teen wondered how the purple-eyed Conculos could be so calm. If he were Bose, and Chris were coming for him, Jose would be pissing his pants.

  There was a loud snap like the shot of a cap gun. It echoed through the alley. Jose staggered in disbelief at what he saw. His knees betrayed him and began to give way. His stomach filled rumbled with disgust. “No,” he whispered. “No.” Below him, Chris was suspended by invisible strands, upside down, his arms and legs stretched into a painful X.

  Jose froze with fear. His mind overflowed with terror and confusion. He couldn’t move, but he didn’t want to see what was about to happen. He was trapped by uncertainty.

  Bose walked slowly over to the suspended Gracanjo. “It didn’t have to be this way,” he said, stroking the rat. “Remember, I asked for your help. You’ve chosen this.”

  “Just get it over with you dumb fuck,” Chris said.

  “Hateful to the end,” Bose said. He grabbed the invisible chord stretching Chris’ right leg in the air. “Fenwick really is an artist. I mean, you have to appreciate the design of this.”

  “Just do it. Just do it,” Chris yelled. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Finish it.”

  Bose bent down to look Chris in the eye. “As wonderful as it would be to carry the title of the one who ended the great Gracanjo of Baltimore who can see across the Veil. That is not tonight’s game.” Bose punctuated his last sentence with a powerful right jab to Chris’ stomach. Chris grunted with pain, but the chords suspending him did not budge. “Really, impressive work. When Fenwick returns, I’ll make sure to let him know how well this one was constructed. He doesn’t let on, but he loves it when I compliment his efforts.”

  “Fuck you,” Chris yelled. Jose could see him straining against his restraints, but there was no give.

  “Allow me to explain what we are going to do now,” Bose said, bending down again to look Chris in the eye. “Our time in the church basement got me thinking.”

  “Fuck you and fuck your thinking,” Chris yelled.

  “On my side of the Veil, I can never see basements,” Bose said, standing to stroke his rat again. “I can only see what is at ground level and above. Anything underground is hidden from view, unless I also have a matching basement.”

  “Jesus. I don’t care,” Chris said.

  Bose delivered another sharp jab to Chris’ midsection. Then stepping back he said, “But you should. You really should. Now, I know you have a strange ability to see through your own buildings like we do on our side, which I still don’t understand, but that’s not important. As I was thinking about how tonight would play out, it occurred to me that if I couldn’t see underground, then you couldn’t either.”

  Chris strained against his invisible restraints again, but they still didn’t budge.

  Bose reached into his right pocket and held out a coin for Chris to see. He then threw it on the ground behind him. “Come on out, gentlemen,” he said. From the newly opened pink hole in the ground, Jose saw a pair of black armored hands emerge. A Conculos pulled himself up into Reality. Then another. Then another. They lined up behind Bose and stood at attention. Fifteen in total. Each was dressed in the black armor Jose had seen before. Each carried a large sword on their back and a knife on the belt.

  “Who knew,” Bose said, stroking his rat again, “that to fool the Gracanjo that sees everything, all I needed to do was dig a hole. Gracanjo,” Bose said motioning to the force behind him, “meet the Riptride. Gentlemen say hello to the most feared Gracanjo in Reality.”

  The Conculos said nothing, but Jose could make out a few smiles of happiness come across their lips.

  “These are Commander Azo’s elite. His personal guard. Like your Praetorian Guard or Secret Service, I believe they are called. We have been given a short relief from our duties to allow us one final attempt to get the box before we prepare for invasion. Which no one wants, by the way. We don’t want to bring our army here. It’s too messy. Do you know how difficult it is to regain control of a few thousand Mardocks who are all juiced up on human pain? It would set us back months. But we have to have the Tinker’s Box. That’s all we want.”

  “I thought you said no speeches,” Chris said.

  “This is my problem with you,” Bose said shaking his head. “You don’t listen.” He delivered a third powerful jab to Chris’ ribs. “What I said was,” Bose continued. “I didn’t want you giving speeches because you don’t’ know how to build the proper suspense. I, on the hand, am skilled in rhetoric and, as an accomplished orator, will speak as long as I deem fit. Now, here is the plan for this evening. I recognize that I could torture you until the light went out in your eyes, and you would never tell me the location of the Box.”

  “Do your worst,” Chris laughed.

  “Yes, yes. You are very strong and brave. We all know. The smaller Gracanjo, on the other hand, doesn’t
share your grit.”

  Chris thrashed wildly against the restraints.

  Bose laughed. “So here is what is going to happen. Instead of looking for the box, I’m sending the Riptride to hunt your partner. And once they’ve caught him, and they will catch him, I’m going to beat him in front of you until he looks more like a potato than a human.”

  “I’ll kill all you,” Chris screamed. “I’ll fucking tear your throats out.”

  “I think it was your Churchill that said the worst mistake a leader can make is create expectations they cannot fulfill. To be clear, you are the one making the mistake right now.” Bose punched Chris a fourth time.

  “Now,” Bose said, “I know I haven’t give you much reason to trust me, but here is a promise. Give me the location of the Box, and I will call the Riptride off of their hunt, and we will leave. Or, if the small Gracanjo brings it to me, we will leave. I don’t care. I just want the box.”

  “He’ll kill you all. One by one,” Chris said with confidence.

  Bose laughed. “Please, I’ve seen him in battle. He’s not from the same batch of Gracanjo as you. He’s never even drawn blood. He couldn’t even handle Fenwick.”

  “You’ll never find him,” Chris yelled. “You’ll never even get close to him.”

  Bose laughed again. “Oh, Gracanjo. You’ve made the mistake of playing checkers, when this whole time, we’ve been playing chess. I already know where he is. He’s right there.”

  Chills ran through Jose’s spine as Bose looked up at him and waved. “Gentleman,” Bose said, smiling at Jose. “First one to bring me the small one will be heavily rewarded.”

  The fifteen Conculos turned in unison and ran down the alley to the street.

  Vomit filled Jose’s mouth. He looked down in panic, unsure what to do. He was brought to his senses by Chris’ voice. Chris’ scream rang through the alley, clearing Jose’s mind. “Run!” Chris yelled. “RUN!”

  Jose turned toward the stairs at the end of the row of roof decks. The first black armored Conculos was already appearing at the top. Its purple eyes burned with hate filled intensity. Its sword was drawn.

  Not knowing what else to do, Jose ran toward it. At the rail, he stopped, and then, as fast as he could, he ran back toward the alley. At full speed, he met the rail where he’d been standing a second before. Grabbing it with his hands, he shot his feet forward, launching himself across the alley. He caught the rail of the roof deck on the other side of the leap with his hands and pulled himself up and then over it. His feet hit the wood of the deck and he chanced a glance over his shoulder. The Conculos were clearing the rails with frightening speed. Jose swallowed and ran.

  “Run, little one,” Jose heard Bose call. “Run and fetch me the Box.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jose ran as fast as he could jumping the railing from one roof deck to the next, fighting the urge to look back at the squadron of killers pursuing him. At the ninth house he was forced to pause and think. It was the end of the line. Before him lay an alley the size of a car, far too wide for him to leap. He looked right and saw the house had a second-story deck. Turning toward the back of the house, he chanced a glance back from the direction he came. The fifteen warriors in black were clearing the roof deck railings just as he had. They were only three houses behind him, less than forty feet. Another moment and they would be on him.

  Jose ran toward the edge of the roof. Bending down, without looking to the deck below, he grabbed the gutter with his hands. Turning in the air, he fell feet first, catching himself on the side of the roof before his feet hit the lower deck. Once his descent had slowed, he let himself go. There was a stairway to his left. He took the steps two at a time, using the wooden railing for support.

  With his feet on the ground, he took a left down the alley and then an immediate right onto a larger street. He knew he needed to do two things as quickly as possible: put distance between himself and his pursuers and find a place to hide.

  At this time of night the streets were eerily quiet. No one was in sight. The only noise was the pounding of Jose’s feet and the rattle of armor behind him. He could hear them drifting back, still he dared not turn to see for fear that they were actually within arm’s reach.

  Ahead he saw a small garden with white marble statues. Instantly he remembered the garden from a patrol with Chris over a month ago. He was outside the cathedral at the corner of Riverside and Clement. He moved into the street. The open road was free of uneven sidewalks and tree roots, which allowed him to increase his speed. He took a right down Riverside, ran to the end of the red brick church building, and took a left down Gittings. On his right he saw the fenced-in blacktop of the Catholic elementary school. He ran another block and then came to Williams street. Again, he stuck to the center of the road to avoid the bumpy and potentially dangerous sidewalk. A few blocks ahead was the spot where the Mardock had snapped the necks of two young men in front of Jose. He wondered if the Conculos had the same strength in their hands. He wondered if his body would writhe like those men. He wondered if his feet would kick in the same way. He decided he didn’t want to know.

  There was a second cathedral ahead of him. Bigger than the last, it took up almost the entire block. He turned left down West Street and sprinted past the building. As he turned, he risked a glance. It seemed that only a handful were still in pursuit, but they were only six houses back. He was creating space, but he needed more.

  At Light Street, he took a left. The street was wider and the lights of the store fronts provided more illumination. Jose considered turning and running toward the Inner Harbor, but then thought better of it. The wide open space of the area would make disappearing more difficult. He needed the tight turns of Baltimore’s residential streets.

  Jose’s knees and back were beginning to protest the pace with sharp pains after each step. He was terrified he would trip, twist his knee, or sprain his ankle. He was sure that if he lost his footing, the monsters would be on him in seconds.

  He turned left on Cross Street and ran past the market. Wondering if he was in the clear, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Five of the black-armored beasts were still less than fifty feet behind him. Their purple eyes and white teeth gleamed with the anticipation of catching their prey. Jose put his head down and willed his legs to pick up the pace.

  The chase continued for blocks and blocks. Jose followed Cross Street across Hanover until he reached the abandoned factory building at Race where he took a left. He ran past the newly constructed rowhomes with strange round red brick fronts to the Baltimore Tool shop where he took a right.

  Back on West Street, he sprinted to the old fire station that was now a recovery center for men struggling with addiction. He could see the giant lights of the Ravens’ stadium a handful of blocks away. He didn’t want to get caught up in all the fencing that surrounded the stadium, so he took a left down Leadenhall Street. His heart pounded in his chest and his breath was growing shallow. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep up this pace.

  He chanced another glance back. His attackers were a full block behind now. The wild run was working. He willed himself forward, telling himself that the burning in his legs would pass, that he’d felt worse just a few weeks ago.

  Jose spotted the I-395 overpass on his right. He knew that if he could follow the street under the overpass and past the stadiums, he could find an abandoned rowhome to hangout in while he rested and figured out his next move. Raven’s stadium covered a lot of ground though. Jose worried that his knees would give out at any second, but still, he pressed on, willing his body forward. He took the right down Ostend Street and prayed his legs would carry him to where he needed to go.

  As Jose neared the shadows of the overpass, he was shocked to see a figure there waiting for him. Initially his stomach filled with dread. “What if it’s a trap,” Jose thought to himself. “What if this is exactly what they want me to do?” He began to slow, but he heard the sound of the armor t
urning the corner and he knew instinctively that whoever was in front of him wasn’t near as bad as the group behind him.

  He pressed forward, clenching his fists, preparing himself to strike whoever it was in front of him, but as he drew closer he realized that the single person was actually two, and they were waving to him. Jose locked his eye on them. One had a pointed nose and an O’s hat on. Jose’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized the smiling face. It was Andi, Baltimore’s resident Slake Jose and Chris had found at the bus stop. Next to him stood an older man with a shaved head and a black eye-patch.

  “This way, kid,” the old man yelled.

  “Come on, Jose,” Andi screamed. “You can make it!”

  Jose didn’t know what they had planned, but he decided it was better than trying to run another half-mile in hopes of losing his pursuers. He ran directly at the pair. He saw Andi turn and point toward and abandoned factory building the sat beneath the I-395 overpass.

  As Jose arrived at Andi, the Slake took his hand. Together they ran past the old man to the factory. To Jose’s shock, there was a powerful blast from behind him. The air filed with smoke. It consumed everything. Jose couldn’t see. If not for Andi’s hand, he would have been lost in the fog. Andi steered the young Gracanjo into the old, abandoned warehouse. Its second floor was comprised of large glass block windows. Andi and Jose burst through the cracked door and into the open space of the factory. The room was full of shapes but Jose couldn’t make them out because of the heavy smoke.

  “Where are we?” Jose said. “What’s with the smoke?”

  “No time to explain,” Andi said as he pulled Jose forward. “This way.”

  Andi pulled Jose to a metal stair case. They ran up the stairs as fast as they could. The smoke was thinning. They were on, what felt to Jose like some sort of balcony. Andi pulled Jose into the corner of the room. “Sit,” he said.

  Jose did as he was told.

  The Slake pulled a blanket over them, concealing them from view. It was heavy and hot. It stuck to Jose sweaty head and back. Andi left the front of the cover open, allowing them both to see and breathe easily.