The Fall of Man
The Saboteur Chronicles
J.V. Roberts
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This book is a work of fiction. All the character names, places, or incidents are fictional. Similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of products that are mentioned in this work of fiction.
Book Title: The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles
Format: Ebook
Author: J.V. Roberts
2015 by J.V. Roberts
www.jvroberts.com
Also by J.V. Roberts
The Rabid
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The Rabid: Rise
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This one is for you, the reader. I hope you are entertained.
sab*o*teur
noun: a person who destroys or damages something deliberately
* * *
synonyms: agent, criminal, invader, guerrilla, murderer, terrorist, assassin, villain
Rebel
1
Dominic stood in the shadow of Genesis Tower 2. He removed a waning pack of smokes from his duster. Damn, last one. He shook it loose, placed it between his lips, and tossed the empty pack to the ground before striking a match.
The Genesis Towers were twenty stories tall, twin titans of glass and steel. They were connected by a thin metal enclosed walkway, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground; all shine and straight angles, dark mirrors reflecting a brilliant sun. They were direct contradictions to the landscape spread out beneath them; a sea of dust and crumbling idols left over from the old world. As Dominic stood there, contemplating the view, caravans pushed past on either side; men with their mules and their rickety carts of scrap. Two Union soldiers stood at the lobby entrance of Tower 2, rustling the caravan riders, turning things inside out and upside down. The riders seemed used to the routine. They stood back, smoking their cigarettes, waiting for the soldiers to finish and usher them through.
Dominic waited until everything was clear. He approached the checkpoint, arms spread. “Let me save you some time, I’m clean.” The cigarette wagged loosely between his lips, sprinkling ash like a salt shaker.
The skinnier and younger of the two soldiers ran his hands across the underside of Dominic’s arms and down the sides of his chest.
“What’s your business here in Genesis?” the other soldier asked, as if reading from a script, sweat soaked hair peeking in clumps from beneath his black cap.
“Just passing through,” Dominic replied, as the hands reached his inner thighs. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”
“We’re not an inn. We’ve got a bar inside and the caravans have a market set up in the lobby, but unless you’ve got family here, there’s no getting upstairs or passing the night. Once everything closes down, you’re out, we clear?”
“As the morning air,” he grinned, pinching the cigarette between his front teeth.
“Alright, get out of here.”
The lobby smelled like a considerable pile of shit wrapped in a heavy blanket of musk. It was enclosed by thick walls, gray and water stained. The sun flowing in through the open doors lit the room by day and torches lit it by night. The caravans were spread out in a layered circle. The riders were holding their wares high above their heads, rattling off the finer qualities of each item, along with the accompanying prices, “Cannot be beat I tell you, these prices cannot be beat! Be the envy of Genesis!”
Tower residents were trickling from the stairwells with their coin purses at the ready. They were whispering to one another in excited tones, smiling, pointing; downright giddy at the prospect of exploring an alien land so far below their station.
Dominic slid between the carts and around the riders, doing his best to dodge the wagging heads of the whimpering mules.
“Sir, you seen anything like this?” The rider held out a ragged bouquet of fake flowers; hints of pink and yellow still managed to shine through the muck and mire.
“I have, actually. She was a looker with a deep purse. She used them as a piece for her table, they had a vase too.”
“I can get you a vase. In fact, I’ll get you two.”
“Nowhere to put them,” Dominic replied with a shrug.
“Give them to a beautiful lady.”
“The only beautiful ladies I know take coin, not flowers.”
The rider gave a knowing laugh before zeroing in on his next target. “Ma’am, ma’am, have you ever seen anything like this?”
At the center of the circle there was a single cart. The contents were being sorted by an old man with a long white beard. What little hair he had left atop his head clung to his sunburned scalp in solitary wisps. His hands, like bird talons, gnarled with overgrown fingernails, picked up choice trinkets and balanced them around the outside of the cart atop the weather beaten wood. His head rose slowly as Dominic approached. His eyelids were clumps of rolling flesh that forced him to lift his chin slightly in order to see. “Greetings, I’m still setting up, but you’re welcome to browse what I have.”
“I’m not here to browse your wares, old man.”
“Ah,” the relic tugged at the end of his beard, “okay then, okay then, come.”
Dominic met him at the back of the cart.
The old man hummed quietly as he pushed pieces of formless metal aside with the backs of his hands. “Ah, yes, here we go.” The old man fished a piece of knotted blue cloth from beneath the heap. “Tell me, do we have any admirers?”
Dominic scanned the growing crowd. “Not that I can see.”
The feeble fellow began untying the package with surprisingly nimble fingers. “Your employer paid me very well for this package, very well.”
Dominic’s eyes flashed over his shoulders once more before picking up the silenced pistol. “This is a nice piece.” He locked the slide back and checked the magazine; loaded and ready to go.
“These papers will get you upstairs. They won’t stand up to scrutiny. But they should be enough to get you in and out.”
“Accepted into Genesis; never thought I’d see the day.” Dominic smiled and leafed through the dozen or so pages before dropping the booklet into his pants pocket.
“Like I said, don’t get too comfortable, you don’t want to get caught on the wrong side of the line. Don’t let the gloss fool you, they treat their good-for-nothings as shitty as any other hellhole on this god forsaken land; maybe even worse, just cause they got the time and resources.”
“Don’t worry old timer, getting caught ain’t really in my job description.”
“And smuggling weapons into Genesis on a mule cart for over-confident bounty hunters wasn’t in mine, but alas, here we are.”
“And you’re a richer man for it.”
Dominic turned into the crowd and began moving towards the residential staircase.
Pepper’s Pub was located on the fifteenth floor of Genesis Tower 2, just below the resident’s quarters. The location was no accident. It was a recipe for profit. A proverbial neon sign buzzing away, attracting the overworked like flies. After the sun fell there was rarely a lull in traffic. The seats were always occupied. The air was always buzzing with conversation and always choked with clouds of thick smoke, while ice cubes played the walls of highball glasses like muffled piano keys. It was a melting pot of the highest and lowest order. The only place in Genesis that never closed. Inside Pepper’s Pub there were no hierarchies, no lines in the sand. Everyone had one thing in common; they were there to drink and forget.
Dominic walked through the front door with his broad
shoulders and wild hair. A thick scar ran down the right side of his face, splitting the top part of his shallow beard. He was wearing a black duster with a torn tee shirt underneath, a pair of faded jeans, and black boots that hit like hammers. He moved smoothly through the crowd and took the only available seat at the center of the bar.
A pudgy man stood behind the bar wiping glasses out with a grungy towel. “The name is Rudy, what can I get for you?” he asked as he buffed away at a streaky mug, tongue wrapped tight across the front of his teeth.
“Something dark and bitter,” Dominic spoke in a low growl.
“That’s pretty much all we serve.”
“Then I guess I’m in luck.”
Rudy set the glass aside. “I guess you are.” He twirled another glass up from beneath the bar, letting it slide across the top of his hand and down on to the surface without as much as a rattle.
“Neat trick,” Dominic said with an approving nod.
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Looks that way.” He glanced around the room at the hustle and bustle. Saxophones and a driving bass line were rising from the jukebox sitting in the far back corner.
“Ice?”
He shook his head. “Leave the water for the ladies.”
Rudy chuckled and plucked the stopper from a half-full decanter and began pouring. “Long day?”
“Yeah,” he signaled for Rudy to stop, “it’s not over yet.” He lifted the glass and emptied the contents with one swift flick of his wrist. “Give me another.”
Rudy poured again.
He emptied the glass just as quickly.
“Unless you got yourself a cast iron stomach, I’d suggest a little food with that. That’s one of the strongest batches we’ve rolled through here. How about a pork sandwich? They have been breeding them like crazy this year.”
“Nah, never developed much of a taste for pork. I could use some smokes. Get me a pack of Blues.”
“You really smoke that Outlander shit?”
He shrugged and turned the glass with one hand. “You get used to it.”
“The hell you do,” Rudy scoffed, “no more than you’d get used to eating shit every day.”
“You speaking from experience?” He looked up at Rudy over the tops of his eyelids.
Rudy held his gaze for a moment but quickly gave up and went back to buffing. “We don’t carry Outlander shit; liquor and smokes are all from right here in Genesis.”
“Color me impressed,” he slipped a white book of matches from his pocket and dropped them next to the empty glass. “Give me what you got.”
“We got King’s and we got Cassie’s.”
“Whatever, shock me.”
Rudy knelt down and rummaged beneath the bar. He came back up with a white cardboard box wrapped in brown twine, the word King’s was stamped across the front. “I figured you’d appreciate the more masculine vibe.”
“It’s the same shit.” He tossed the twine aside, flipped a loosely wrapped stick of tobacco into his lips, and set a match to it.
“Cassie’s are more aromatic.”
“Aromatic? Genesis Towers, I swear.”
“We’ve got our tastes.”
“Your liquor is passable, but this,” he held the smoldering cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, studying it with disgust, “I could have rolled a better smoke with dust and air.”
“Of course the liquor is good, yours truly is responsible for it.” Rudy took a small bow before he returned to his buffing duties. “You ever wonder what they drank and smoked back in the old world?”
He shook his head and blew a gray cloud up towards the rafters. “Not really.”
“No imagination, is that it?”
“I like to keep my eyes forward.”
“That’s not a bad philosophy. What’s your name, forgot to ask?” Rudy dried his hand on the towel and extended it stiffly.
He propped the cigarette between his lips and returned the gesture. “Dominic, the name is Dominic.”
“Nice to meet you, Dominic. So, I take it you’re not from around here?”
“I make it that obvious?”
“It’s the coat, can’t remember the last time I saw a duster.”
“Ah, well, I don’t imagine there’s much use for it in Genesis.”
“Yeah, I don’t imagine there is. So, since you’re up here, I’m assuming you’ve got family in Genesis?”
Dominic nodded. “Yeah, an uncle.”
Rudy shook his head. “Some uncle, leaving you to rough it in the Outlands.”
“It’s by choice. I’ve always had a thing for the great outdoors.”
“Better you than me, brother. Give me a roof and a soft bed any day.”
“The electricity is a nice change, I’ll give you that.”
“It’s not perfect, it flickers out now and then, but it beats racing the sunlight every day.”
Dominic took another drag from the cigarette and slapped the ashes off on the edge of the bar. “So, what’s so special about that glass?”
“What do you mean?”
“That glass, you’ve been going at it with the rag since I sat down.”
Rudy held the glass above his head and examined it against the hazy light. “This glass is for one man and one man only.”
“Ah, and who might that be?”
“The man above men, the Lord Marshal himself.”
“This guy walk on water too?”
Rudy smirked. “Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic, but one thing is for sure, he doesn’t like a dirty glass.”
“Think I could get another hit of that home brewed shit?” Dominic tucked the book of matches away. “So, what happens if he gets a dirty glass?”
“You never know,” Rudy said as he brought the decanter up and poured, “he may break a few things, or he may shut down the bar. Last time, he shut down the bar.”
“Sounds like a real hero.” Dominic conquered another mouthful of whiskey and stamped the cigarette out.
“Oh, but he is, a real hero,” Rudy said with an almost spiritual conviction, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head like a fool.
“Yeah, I’ve heard the stories, the brave Lord Marshal and his band of merry men, destroyers of the recreant hoard.”
“Hey man, cool it with that shit. The wrong ears pick up on that and they’ll find a permanent place for you down below. You feel me?”
“You gonna tell on me?” Dominic leaned forward and fixed him with a hard glare.
Rudy shrank away. “Me? What? No! Really, I could give two shits about him or his men… it’s just, you know, they’ve got eyes and ears all over, gotta play along to get along, know what I mean?”
Dominic winked and slapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t plan on sticking around long.”
Rudy sighed. “Alright, I tried.”
“There is one favor you can do for me, if you’re so inclined.”
A frazzled man with white whiskers pressed in beside Dominic and grunted for a beer. Rudy popped the top off a brown unlabeled bottle and slid it across the counter without a second glance. “You can ask, I can’t promise.”
“Fair enough. How about showing me the works? You know, where you make the magic?”
“Our distillery?”
“Yeah.”
“The Outland doesn’t have distilleries?” Rudy asked incredulously.
“Call me deprived. I’m always moving from place to place, the roses seem to pass me by.”
Rudy snorted. “I suppose they do.” He looked up and down the bar. “Well, everything seems to be under control here. I suppose I could take you in back for a second and show you the guts of the operation. Just don’t go trying to steal my secrets.”
Dominic stood, opened his coat, and wiggled his hips. “Want to check me for pen and paper?”
Rudy let loose with a goofy chuckle, he seemed excited by the opportunity to show off his craft. “Come on around.”
There was a steel door beside the cash register with a grimy porthole carved in the center. Rudy held it open and ushered Dominic through with a lazy wave of his hand. “Step right up. Prepare to be wowed.” Rudy flipped a switch on the wall and the room came to life with a series of electric pops. “Ta-da!”
It wasn’t a large room, a little smaller than the bar area. There were rows of oak barrels shelved against the far wall. In the center of the room there were large silver and copper drums with metal tubes running from the top. There were handles and gauges and fat canvas sacks stacked as high as a man.
“This is… something.”
“A little more complicated than you imagined, huh?”
Dominic yawned into a closed fist. “Yeah, a little.”
“Did you think that drink you were pounding just magically appeared in the bottle? It’s over two weeks of hard labor and waiting. Then you want to age it, which is what we use these barrels for.” Rudy kicked at one of the shelved barrels with the side of his shoe. “So, what do you do to get by?”
Dominic wrapped his lips around another cigarette and set a match to it. “This and that, mostly contract work.”
“Contract work? That sounds vague and exciting. Want to elaborate a little?” Rudy rubbed a hand across the top of one of the barrels, while checking his reflection against the surface of one of the copper drums.
“I do jobs for people; a little of this, a little of that.” Dominic leaned back against the wall by the door.
“Sounds like you get around.”
“That I do. What about you? You get out beyond the Towers much?”
Rudy shook his head. “Nah, not really, I’m not the adventurous type.”
“Not really or never?”
Rudy shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I’ve been out there before, but I prefer home. You plan on taking me on vacation or something?”
Dominic stubbed his smoke out on the wall. “Where would I take you?”
The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 1 Page 1
