Darkness Follows

by L. A. Weatherly

  “And you’d better figure out some way to pay for it fast,” said the younger Gun. “If you stain that floor, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  She took out a stick and tapped it against her palm. I watched it fall: once, twice. I felt hot and tight inside.

  Melody gave a half-sob. “But what am I supposed to pay for it with?”

  The older Gun snorted. “Not very inventive, are you?”

  “Honestly, they’re all so stupid,” said the other one, still tapping.

  The older Gun smirked and nudged her colleague. “Okay, I’m in a generous mood,” she announced. “Sing us something. If it’s good, maybe I’ll give you two rags.”

  Melody shot us a desperate glance and hugged herself. Finally, in a thin, quavering voice, she started to sing a Van Wheeler song.

  The Guns hooted and laughed. “No, that’s terrible!” broke in the younger one gleefully. “I know, I know – she could dance for us!”

  “Just give it to her!” My voice rang around the room, surprising even me. I lunged for the desk and grabbed the folded rag. I thrust it at Melody.

  Pain exploded across the side of my head. The world dimmed as I staggered and almost fell. Then the younger Gun punched me square in the stomach. I went down, gasping, the breath knocked out of me.

  One of them kicked me hard and I felt a rib crack. I cried out as I was hauled to my feet.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn,” hissed the older Gun. “Lesson one begins right now.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  July, 1941

  Pink-veined marble lined the corridor of the Pisces building. The plush carpet muffled Mac’s footsteps. Outside, the Topeka summer burned. In here all was timeless, serene.

  Reaching the meeting room door, Mac paused to quickly smooth his hair, wondering what the hell this was about.

  Remember, pal, you’re a loyalist all the way in there, he thought. These last few months had been disastrous. Screwing up was not an option.

  “Don’t worry, you look very sharp,” a voice drawled.

  Kay Pierce. Mac donned a relaxed smile as he turned.

  “Hey, thanks.” As they shook hands he kissed her cheek. “You’re not looking bad yourself, Kay.”

  Gunnison’s Chief Astrologer was short, just about Mac’s height, with pert features, light brown hair and freckles. Freckles, as if she were an innocent farm girl. She played up the wholesome act when it suited her.

  She tucked her arm chummily through Mac’s. “Glad you’re here,” she said with a squeeze. “There are some exciting things afoot. For you along with everyone else.”

  “Oh?” Mac arched an eyebrow and hid his apprehension. He doubted that he and Kay Pierce shared the same idea of “exciting”.

  “Intriguing,” he said lightly. “What’s going on?”

  Kay giggled. “All in good time, Mackie.”

  She opened the conference room door and strolled in with Mac in tow. “Look who I found prowling around in the corridor,” she announced.

  At a long, gleaming table sat the two most powerful men in Can-Amer: President John Gunnison and his chief advisor Sandford Cain. A pair of bodyguards stood nearby. As always, the pat down when Mac had entered the building had been depressingly thorough.

  A tired-looking Gunnison rose, smiling, and met Mac with an outstretched hand. “Good to see you, bud. You’ve been out there in the Western Quarter too long.” The Can-Amer leader wasn’t overly tall, but solid, with thick blond hair that was greying at the temples.

  He and Mac shook hands with a hearty clasp. “It’s all Mr Cain’s fault, I’m afraid,” Mac said with a grin, and his pale-eyed boss gave him a small, cold smile.

  “Guilty as charged,” said Cain. “If you weren’t so competent, you wouldn’t get sent out there so often.”

  The Western Quarter was formerly the Western Seaboard.

  Near Angeles on the coast, nearly a quarter of a million pilots and other personnel were still being detained in the old Peacefighting complex.

  At its heart, the international hub known as the Heat continued to be a seething, thriving city. Mac spent weeks at a time out there – ostensibly doing espionage for Cain. As far as most of Can-Amer was concerned, Mac was faceless. He used a series of aliases.

  Mac took his seat. A folder waited at each place. On one wall there glinted a mosaic of two linked golden fishes. Through the window, three more Zodiac domes could be seen.

  One was the Libra dome, where the World for Peace investigation was still ongoing – though Gunnison, who’d seemed distracted recently, had mostly passed it over to Cain now. Thankfully Mac hadn’t had to be involved.

  It had become known as “the purging”. Forty-two officials had now been put to death.

  Alaska had fallen only weeks after the Western Seaboard. Gunnison’s illegal, mammoth army remained unchallenged. Other world leaders hadn’t dared to confront him, though Mac suspected they were secretly building their own armed forces. They’d be fools not to.

  But Johnny Gun had had a twelve-year head start.

  The Day of Three Suns, Mac promised himself tautly. Somehow, the Resistance would still find a way to use it.

  “…to go over the new work plan,” Kay was saying, opening her folder.

  Mac looked up quickly, keeping his expression merely curious.

  “New work plan?” Cain echoed. “John, we haven’t discussed this.”

  “Now, now, Ford,” said Gunnison, patting the air in Sandford Cain’s direction. “It was a matter for the stars, not you. Just listen to what Kiki has to say.”

  Kiki? Mac suddenly noticed just how close Kay and Gunnison were sitting: the president’s arm was around her chair, his hand lightly caressing her shoulder. The warm look they exchanged was even more telling.

  Warning bells went off in Mac’s head. Exactly how much sway did Kay Pierce have with Gunnison now?

  Quite a lot, if her faint air of triumph was anything to go by. She smiled prettily.

  “Well, everyone, the Day of Three Suns will be coming up before we know it, bringing in the New Era. So in preparation, it seemed a good time to look at our working arrangements.”

  In February, a rare convergence of Venus and Jupiter would make the two planets visible at sunset. As Sephy, Mac’s girlfriend, had guessed, Kay had judged this the most auspicious date for the Harmony Treaty, which would bring the entire continent under Gunnison’s rule.

  Appalachia – home to New Manhattan, Boston, Atlanta – was being coerced into signing by the threat of Gunnison’s army and the false promise that they could keep some autonomy. Though Gunnison was already moving advisors into key roles, most Appalachians had no idea what awaited them. Until the Day of Three Suns their country remained technically free.

  Despite their recent setbacks, the Resistance still fervently hoped to use the event as they’d planned.

  What was going on now, though?

  In a brisk voice Kay announced a series of new appointments. “And of course we’ll need someone really excellent to be in charge of interrogations.” She drew out another astrological chart and shot Mac a dimpled look. “That’s you.”

  At first Mac thought he hadn’t heard right. “Me?”

  Gunnison nodded. “Effective immediately. You’ve been wasted doing reconnaissance out there in the Western Quarter for so long, bud. Now you get to play with the big boys.”

  “But I—” Mac bit back his protest: the only time in his career that he’d ever spoken without thinking. The look on his face must have passed for surprise.

  “Now don’t get me wrong, you’ve done a great job!” Gunnison went on. “Hell, Mac, those Resistance leaders are tricky to deal with and I’ve been damn glad you were out there. But the stars have spoken: it’s time for you to move on.” Though he seemed weary, he smiled.

  “And I’ve spoken too. And what I say is, let’s give a twenty-three-year-old man with everything going for him the chance to make his mark. Take some credit for his success for a chang
e.” He held up a hand. “This is how it’s going to be. That’s final.”

  Mac chuckled. “Well, it’s very kind of you, Johnny. What can I say? I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  His thoughts skidded on ice. His presence in the Heat was vital. He’d planned to propose spending even more time out there, “to keep an eye on things”.

  From Cain’s frown – the equivalent of another man bellowing in rage – he hadn’t known this was coming, either. He said merely, “An excellent idea. Mac will also continue to work with me, of course.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Kay…and Gunnison didn’t seem to notice or mind that Kay had just spoken for him.

  Mac noticed, and was certain Cain had too – though, as of this moment, Kay’s growing influence with the Can-Amer leader was the least of his troubles.

  As the meeting continued, he managed to put a spark of excitement into his voice as plans for the New Era were discussed. He even managed to sound interested in his role, though just the word “interrogation” made his flesh crawl.

  He tried to tell himself that all hope had not just died.

  “You can get those files from Sandy,” said Gunnison to Mac, as the discussion turned to Appalachian officials who needed investigating.

  Mac glanced up, feigning interest. “Oh, is Collis here?”

  “He’s working as one of my assistants.” Gunnison had seemed preoccupied through much of the meeting, but now he winked. “He’s too valuable to waste out there in the Western Quarter any longer, either.”

  After the meeting, in the usual shuffle of chairs and people rising, Cain shook hands with Gunnison and Kay in turn. “Excellent meeting,” he said. “I feel we’ve made real progress.”

  Then he turned to Mac and added pleasantly, “May I see you in my office?”

  Mac wasn’t surprised by what his boss asked of him – he’d already decided the same thing for reasons of his own. He longed to be at home, discussing this with Sephy.

  Instead he headed down the corridor to find “Sandy”. A dozen assistants’ offices adjoined Gunnison’s; Collis Reed was in the one four offices over. Mac stuck his head in.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Collis – or “Collie” or “Sandy”, depending on who you were talking to – had been looking at something on his desk. He glanced up and quickly put it away in a drawer.

  “Mac, hey,” he said, crossing the room with his hand out: an athletic-looking guy with sun-streaked hair and changeable blue-green eyes..

  Mac had known Collis casually for a couple of years now. Reed was a small-time spy who’d somehow gotten catapulted into the big time – mostly by his work on the Western Seaboard Peacefighting base. Now Gunnison seemed to view the sandy-haired pilot as a kind of good-luck charm.

  Collis’s ready grin matched Mac’s own. “Long time, no see,” he said as they shook.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while,” said Mac. He had no great love for Collis. The guy had always struck him as an operator through and through – too slick for his own good and not as smart as he thought he was.

  “Remember training school?” Mac added, and they laughed. When needed back in the Heat, their cover story had been that they’d gone to Peacefighting training school together. They’d used it the last time Mac had seen Collis, in fact.

  That had been the night Collis was out dancing with Amity Vancour.

  Mac thought of her trial and the look that had been in her eyes when she’d said to tell Collis nothing. An ingrained habit to dig for the truth made him say, “Hey, you had everyone pretty worried for a while, you know, pal.”

  Collis sat down in one of two plush armchairs and motioned Mac to do the same. “What, the Vancour thing?” he said after a pause. “Hey, you want some coffee?”

  “Thanks, why not?” said Mac, and waited until Collis had given the order through a small intercom on his desk. “And yes, I mean the Vancour thing,” he went on. “I had Johnny asking me ten times a day if you’d checked in with us yet.” He winked. “Everyone was starting to wonder if you’d become overly entranced by the lady’s charms.”

  Collis sounded tetchy. “Oh, come on, not really.”

  “Of course, ‘really’. You’d have thought the same.”

  “I couldn’t check in any sooner; I was with her day and night. You know how tricky these things can get.” Collis’s gaze was direct, unblinking. It was, Mac noted with interest, the same straight-on gaze that he himself used when he was lying.

  Mac grinned, defusing the tension. “Well, hey, she’s an attractive girl. It can’t have been much of a hardship. And you more than redeemed yourself.”

  Collis gave a small smile. “Sure, that’s me…I always come through in the end.”

  The coffee came then. Once they were alone again, Mac settled back and said, “So what’s Johnny got you doing now, anyway?”

  If Collis was relieved at the change of subject, he hid it well. He described the administrative tasks Gunnison had set him on.

  “Nothing too onerous then,” said Mac.

  Collis shrugged and rubbed his chin. “Yeah…I think mostly he just likes having me near. Which is great, of course,” he added a touch too late. “Anything I can do is an honour.”

  You slipped, buddy, thought Mac with slight amusement. Or had Collis meant for him to hear the hesitation? He glanced at the tattoo on Collis’s right palm that marked him as having once been a correction camp inmate. Collis saw him looking and closed his hand into a sudden fist.

  “I hear she’s in Harmony Five,” said Mac pleasantly.

  Collis froze. “Who?” he said after a beat.

  “Vancour. Not doing too well, apparently.”

  Collis poured himself more coffee. He forgot to offer Mac any.

  “Oh?” he said. Resting back in his chair he met Mac’s gaze directly again, though his fingers around the mug were tight.

  Mac shrugged and helped himself to more coffee. As Cain’s assistant, he had easy access to this information. What he’d learned had saddened him, though he didn’t show it.

  “Fire sign,” he said. “They never do well.”

  He didn’t add that Leo – Collis’s own tattoo – was also a fire sign, and so Collis should know. “Yeah, one of the reports said she got in trouble her first day, before she even made it through induction,” Mac went on, stirring cream into his coffee. “They threw her in solitary for two weeks.”

  He knew Collis was aware what solitary was like, though he’d be surprised if Collis had ever experienced it. He’d done a bit of digging once: Reed had apparently been one of those model prisoners who toed the line with excruciating care. Anything to get by, anything to survive.

  Collis stared down at his coffee. “Shame,” he said. He cleared his throat. “She wasn’t bad, for a Discordant. Well…I guess that’s what happens when you don’t play by the rules.”

  “Exactly,” said Mac cheerfully. “And you know what? From what I’ve heard, she still didn’t learn. She’s been in solitary twice since then. The last time finally broke her, though.”

  Collis’s gaze flew to Mac’s. His eyes looked pure green now, and for the first time, Mac saw raw emotion in them. Collis rose quickly.

  “Hey, what time is it?” he said. “After four – great. I think that counts as happy hour, don’t you?”

  Mac watched as Collis went to a sideboard with a collection of liquor bottles clustered on it. Gunnison made certain that his assistants had the best, though in most offices this display was largely for show.

  Here in Collis’s little domain, the levels in the bottles were all low.

  Collis poured himself a shot of whiskey and knocked it back. Then he added a slug to his coffee and returned bearing the bottle. “Come on, join me,” he said jovially, and poured a shot into Mac’s coffee before he could refuse. “Johnny won’t care. We work hard; we should get some playtime too, right?”

  “Right you are,” said Mac, and clinked his doctored mug against Collis’s.

/>   For a few moments they drank without speaking. Mac was at ease with silence, but knew others weren’t. Some of the most interesting revelations he’d ever learned had come from people rushing to fill a wordless space.

  Sure enough, the atmosphere grew heavy quickly. Collis drained the rest of his coffee and then poured himself more, again adding a dollop of whiskey. Internally, Mac raised an eyebrow.

  When Collis spoke again, his voice was slightly thick. “So…the last time broke her, huh? Well, good.” He glanced up. “What…what happened?”

  “I don’t know much,” said Mac. “Just that she kept getting into trouble…a dispute over a pair of boots, I think.”

  “Boots?” echoed Collis.

  Mac shrugged. “Harmony Five.” It was the harshest of all the work camps, set in the far north of the Yukon. A pair of boots could mean life or death there.

  “Apparently you wouldn’t even know she was the same woman these days,” he added. He took another sip of his coffee, then leaned back, swirling the liquid in its mug. “Hey, this is good stuff, isn’t it? Yeah, they say she’s scared of her own shadow now, after all they’ve done to her. Not to mention physically weak, of course. I hear she may not last much longer. Well, solitary changes a person. Too bad it’s necessary sometimes.”

  Collis didn’t ask for details. He drained his drink, then looked down, rolling the mug between his palms. If Mac wasn’t mistaken, his hands were shaking.

  “You know, um…I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said. His smile had a taut look. “Let’s catch up another time, hey, Mac?”

  When Mac reached his apartment that night he felt wiped out. It had begun to truly hit him what his banishment from the Western Quarter would mean. There has to be another way, he told himself.

  He could think of none.

  Nearing his door, he heard the low sound of music: Van Wheeler’s new hit, “For Ever and a Day”.

  She was home. Almost imperceptibly, his muscles relaxed.

  Mac went inside. He closed the door behind him and stood leaning against it, gazing at the slim young woman who sat working at a desk in front of the bay window. She had skin the colour of rich, dark earth, and black hair coiled neatly atop her head. Her neck was long, aristocratic-looking.