The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 1

by J. V. Roberts

“Send out the 6th; make sure they’re battle ready. Have Captain Perkins lead them. Have them sweep through the settlements. Have them ask questions… hard questions. I want them to root out the local rabble as quickly as possible. I want them to send a message, that’s all, nothing prolonged, just in and out. I don’t want this to turn into a big thing.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, let me know when you hear something.”

  He stood. “I will.”

  “Oh, Dan, one more thing.”

  He turned at the door. “Yes?”

  “I want our coin back.”

  He nodded and managed another tight jawed smile.

  Dan entered the dingy bar that resided on the first level of Tower 2. It was still pretty desolate. The usual patrons—the caravan riders—were still conducting their business on the other side of the lobby, procuring the coin they’d need in order to effectively drink the night away. There were a few of them scattered about, looking as beat up and broken down as the tables they were occupying, countenances as dingy as the glasses they were nursing.

  The man he’d come to see was standing behind the bar picking at his bumpy nostrils with the tip of his thumb, one elbow propped up on the bar top. When he saw Dan coming down the stairs he straightened up and began to wring his hands nervously, a rag clutched between his palms. When Dan got to the bar he snatched the rag away from the little troll and snapped him in the center of the forehead with it. “What happened, Ichako?” his voice was a low boil.

  Ichako tried to back away but Dan caught hold of his tunic and yanked him down across the bar. “I did as you asked! I did as you asked!”

  “No killing, you thick headed little monster. Did I not make myself clear?”

  “You did, very clear, sir, very clear. I sent word through the caravans, as you asked. I gave it to them, just like you gave it to me.”

  “Then why are my men dead, you sniveling little shitbag?”

  “I don’t know. Please, I just did as you asked.”

  “Who carried the message?”

  “One of my usual runners, very dependable, never had a problem.” Ichako wasn’t struggling to break loose, he knew better, knew it’d just stoke the fire.

  “Well, it seems that his record is now marred, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I would, yes, won’t be using him again.”

  An empty bottle rattled atop the bar to Dan’s left. “Uh, I just wanted to get another brew?” He was a skinny caravan rider. Perpetual sweat rings decorated his tattered garb.

  “Bar is closed for the moment,” Dan said, before turning his attention back to the squirming little troll.

  “Come on man, just crack the top on a brew and slide it over.”

  Dan snatched his pistol from its holster and pressed the muzzle against the man’s throat. “We’re having a rather intimate conversation. Please, take your seat.”

  “No problem man.” The rider made a quick retreat to his table, empty handed.

  Dan holstered his pistol. “How many Rebels have come in from the east?”

  “I don’t know, couple dozen, maybe.”

  “Did you make sure this shit won’t lead back to me?”

  “Yeah, of course, I kept your name out of it.”

  Dan released his collar and shoved him away with both hands, sending him tumbling against the shelf of spirits; Ichako managed to steady the wobbling shelf before any of the bottles could topple and shatter.

  Dan rubbed his eyes wearily. “Give me a brew.”

  “Didn’t think you cared for the Outland stuff. One brew, coming right up.” A bottle appeared in Ichako’s hands. He shed the top and passed it over. “It’s on me.”

  Dan took a quick swig and ran the liquid between his cheeks before swallowing.

  “How is it? Not so bad, right?”

  Dan clutched the bottle around the neck and slammed Ichako across the top of the skull. It was a meaty impact and utterly satisfying. The glass shattered and the swill covered everything in the immediate area, including the front of Dan’s shirt. The deformed little man was out cold before he hit the ground, a deep fissure now splitting the top of his head.

  Dan turned to leave. As he passed the skinny caravan rider’s table he tossed him a coin. “Next round is on me.”

  19

  Night was falling fast. They still hadn’t settled on a place to make camp. Dominic could sleep under a rock. With Lerah everything was either too exposed or too secluded, the ground was too hard or things just didn’t feel right.

  “We’re gonna have to get off the road soon. If you don’t pick a place I’m just going to drop my stuff and bed down under the next decent piece of shade.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” Lerah was more interested in the crooked structures on either side of the road. Disemboweled office buildings hovered over them like black phantoms, their shattered windows, like a thousand mouths with jagged, translucent teeth, threatened to swallow them whole. “Hell’s Hallway,” Lerah spoke with awe.

  “What?”

  “Hell’s Hallway, that’s what this place is, right? Everything matches the books.”

  “That’s what they’re calling this place?” He shook his head and raised his canteen to his lips. The water had warmed considerably since his last drink. He’d managed to top off their supply at a small settlement a few miles back. The pump had been a rusty, unguarded piece of craftsmanship out on the edge of town. It’d squeaked like a trapped animal and the water had come out brown.

  “It’s how we remember; occurrences, dates, those involved. It’s called education, not that you’d know anything about that.” She crouched down in the darkness, picked up a scrap of stained cloth, and let it float in her grasp for a moment before releasing it into the wind.

  “I don’t need your books, sweetheart. I got my education first hand.”

  “You were here during the battle?” She’d gone from dismissive to curious.

  “Yeah, I was here… there… whatever.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Men killing. Men dying. What do you think it was like?”

  “Oh, by all means, don’t leave out any details.”

  “I am happy to climb up into one of those windows and shoot down on you while you scramble for cover. Just say the word.”

  She scooted some rusted shell casings around with the tip of her boot. “Doesn’t look like people come through here much.”

  Dominic shook his head. “Nah, a lot of Outlanders think this place is haunted.”

  “Of course they do.”

  “For some of us, our superstitions are all we got. They go well with a cook-fire and a pot of rolling stew.”

  “Is it haunted? What do you think?”

  “I try not to. Besides, I figure, at this point, I’ve seen far worse than a few ghosts.”

  “A lot of shotgun shells here. Not the weapon I’d have gone with.” She was crouched down again, picking through the casings.

  “Well, they weren’t soldiers; they didn’t really have a choice. We didn’t have the extra rifles, so they brought what they could to defend themselves.”

  “They?” Lerah stood, an empty shotgun shell cupped across an index finger.

  “Did your books leave that part out?” Dominic strolled past her and stood in the middle of the roadway, his arms spread out to his sides, his chin pointed towards the night sky. “What’d they tell you? That the Union fought off the Rebel hoard? Risking life and limb to secure your glorious future?”

  “Save the performance. Tell me, what am I missing, supposedly?”

  He dropped his arms with a heavy sigh. “People, Lerah, they were just people. The war was going full blast. Your precious Union was leveling any settlement they thought might be involved with Rebel activity, most of the time they were wrong. It was more about the spectacle for them than anything else; raping women, stringing up young boys—”

  “Oh, bullshit, you’re just—”

  “I’m just what, Ler
ah? What’s my stake in all this? I don’t give two sloppy fucks whether you believe me. War is over. I’m not here to convert you. I’m here for the coin. You want to hear what happened from someone that was actually there? Or do you want the fairy tale?”

  Lerah tossed the shell at his feet. “By all means, finish your story.”

  “The people wanted to go north. The fighting wasn’t as intense up there. They thought they could hunker down and wait for the storm to pass. My unit was assigned to escort them. It was me and my team, probably a dozen of us. The rest were all civilians: farmers, shopkeepers, mothers, husbands, sons, daughters. I don’t know how the Union found out. What I do know is that, when we came through here, your people were waiting for us. They were camped up in those buildings. All warm and cozy. Their rifles ready. As soon as we got to about where I’m standing, they let loose. They weren’t picking targets. They were just putting bullets into everything that moved.” Dominic could still see it: children clinging to the bodies of their fallen parents, weeping, heads coming apart, faces destroyed by the deadly kiss of high velocity shrapnel, corpses falling into the lifeless arms of loved ones, pools of blood meeting and mingling. “I lost half of my men that day. Lost all but a handful of the settlers. We eventually got the survivors north, away from the fighting, but it didn’t really matter at that point. Most of them had lost everything: friends, family, possessions. I could see it in their eyes, most would have welcomed a bullet.” Dominic started down a small incline towards the base of one of the buildings.

  Lerah walked to the edge of the deteriorating blacktop. “I’ve… well, I’ve never heard any of that before. If it happened how you say it happened… that was wrong. Things happen in war… but… it doesn’t make it right.”

  Dominic tossed something up to her. She recoiled as the projectile soared in from the darkness. She managed to clamp it between outstretched arms before it made contact with her chest.

  “It happened.”

  A doll, that’s what he’d hurled up from the ditch. A doll with a spotted pink dress and tight blonde pony tails, scorched on one side, missing a leg and an eyeball. There were two holes in the chest, through and through, the fabric rigid and black around the edges, tufts of stuffing blooming from the wounds. Silence filled the space between them as Lerah squinted down at the ruined toy. She turned it over and over in her hands. Stuck her fingers in the bullet holes and wiggled them around as they exited the opposite side. Lifted the pigtails and let them fall back into place. Finally, she hung it by one leg and let it drop to the ground without ceremony.

  Dominic nodded. “I know a place we can make camp. Follow me.”

  She hiked down after him into the ditch. He led them down a narrow alley between two of the buildings. He turned left when they reached the rear of the structures. The wall on the first floor was missing, giving an unobstructed view of the ramshackle lobby. “During the assault some of my guys blew this wall open. They were going to try to flank the shooters. But there were Union boys waiting on that balcony.” His finger prodded at the shadows, at a hint of brass railing suspended above them. “They got torn all to pieces, died right where you’re standing.” She shifted closer to him.

  “You said you had a spot for us to make camp, where is it?”

  “In here. Stay on my heels. It gets treacherous.”

  He led them over the pile of rubble and into the lobby.

  He’d led her three floors up, to an old gunner’s nest. The sand bags felt good beneath her head and feet. She watched Dominic as he roasted two potatoes atop a pathetic flame. “I thought you Outlanders had mastered fire?”

  “When we’ve got the right material at our disposal, yes, we’re quite competent.”

  “Improvise, soldier, didn’t they teach you that?” She draped her head towards him with a wise ass little grin.

  He watched her for a moment behind the orange glow of the flame, rubbing his teeth together. “You’re right, give me your shirt.”

  She raised her middle finger. “In your dreams.”

  “I’ve already seen you in your panties; sleeping, all spread out. There’s a lot more fabric than I’d imagined. I always pictured you in something a little more… you know… sheer.”

  “No, I don’t know. I don’t choose my unmentionables based on men’s sexual appetites.”

  He laughed and turned the potatoes. “No man waiting back home for you, I take it?”

  “Don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  He burned his hand and cursed. “It’s just a question that people ask people, it doesn’t carry any offense.”

  She closed her eyes and made as if she were growing tired. “There’s no one. It’s just me and my dad.”

  “And the military?”

  “Yes, the military.” She’d never made time for the burden that came with a relationship. Her father was something thrust upon her by fate. He’d always kept a respectable distance. When it came to men, she kept things simple. If she wanted a man, she had a man; dinner, bed, and out before breakfast. The only cross she wanted to carry was her own. It was a steep enough hill without having to take on anyone else’s bullshit. “So, how’d you get hooked up with the Rebels? They snatch your ass out of a tavern somewhere? Promise you beer money?”

  “That would have been one hell of a recruitment campaign. Probably would have doubled their numbers.” He claimed one of the potatoes from the fire and offered it to Lerah, alongside a chunk of bread and a slice of apple. “Not much of a cook, but it’s edible. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen fruit.”

  She accepted the portions and used one of the sandbags as a table. “We’ve got barrels of them in Genesis,” she said, arranging the food neatly across the back of the burlap. “So, talk to me, how’d they get you?”

  “Well,” he dropped his potato into his lap, flapping his hands, trying to suck the heat from his fingers, “there’s not a whole lot to it.”

  “Then it should make for a brief story.” She nibbled unenthusiastically at her bread.

  “Fair enough. You remember when I told you my ma was a bit of a cunt?”

  “Sounded like she was more than a bit.”

  “I was being polite.” He tore a piece of splotchy skin from his potato and tucked it between his lips. “I left when I was fifteen. Packed up my shit one night and got out, didn’t even bother shutting the front door.”

  “Have you been back there since then?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, she probably drank herself to death a long time ago. I’m sure the place was swallowed up by the war.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Our home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Southeast of here; dry and hot, that’s about all there was to it. No big loss.”

  She nodded as if she’d been there. “Sounds familiar.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, we couldn’t even get root vegetables to take hold.” As if spurred on by the memory of such misfortune, he grabbed up the potato from his lap and took a deep bite. “These things were a delicacy,” he said through a mouthful of half chewed food.

  “These are a Genesis staple. You get sick of them real quick, trust me.”

  “I always pictured you Genesis folk dining on lamb and chicken and picking your teeth clean with the bones.”

  “It’s mostly pork.” She finished the last of her bread and wiped the crumbs from her chin. “I’m not much of a meat eater, so I don’t really care either way.”

  “Unless you’ve got coin, there’s no such thing as meat out here. You’ve got to be willing to hunt and kill it yourself, or take what ain’t yours.”

  Lerah wiped her hands clean on the sandbags. “So, the Rebels,” she stretched herself back out on the floor, “they picked you up off the road?”

  “Not quite. I did odd jobs for awhile, traveled from town to town, building walls, herding goats, stringing roofs. That’s where I developed my affinity for sleeping on the ground; slept in a lot of barns, smel
led a lot of shit.”

  “Fuck that.” Lerah yawned and stretched, arching her lower back and cranking her neck towards the ceiling.

  “You get used to it.” He scooted his butt across the floor and propped himself up against an overturned desk. “I was helping this guy button up the last of his home, way out east of here, Rebel territory. The talk of war had been in the wind for awhile. But it hadn’t touched us, you know. Then these guys came through the town I was working, hard men, they were looking to put together a special unit, needed strong, young recruits.”

  “The Saboteurs?”

  “Yep. There was the promise of coin, shelter, and three meals a day. I was a hot blooded teenager and they were offering to put a gun in my hand. I couldn’t pack my shit fast enough.”

  “So, you weren’t fighting for shit?”

  “Not to start with. I didn’t know shit about the Union, about the struggle going on out here. After I jumped into the fray though, shit,” he closed his eyes and tucked his chin down against the top of his chest, “I learned about ya’ll real quick.”

  Lerah’s thoughts drifted back to what Dominic had said on the road. She couldn’t imagine it was true, even after what he’d shown her. The Union, slaughtering refugees, women, children, and shotgun saddled dirt farmers, it wasn’t in the books. It wasn’t in the honeyed words that had slid from Hause’s tongue during her time in the classroom.

  No! Bullshit!

  The Union she knew, they were liberators. They broke chains. They lifted the weak from bondage. The Rebels, they were the villains. They were the ones trying to keep the settlements enslaved and impoverished. All the Union had ever tried to do was introduce a better way of life. They were the only ones working to get the country back on its feet, pointed in the right direction. She wouldn’t allow Dominic’s words to infect her mind.

  She rolled on to her side, facing away from him. “I’ve heard enough bullshit for one night. I’m going to sleep.”

  “Bullshit?” he sounded off indignantly.

  “You’re an Outlander, a Rebel sympathizer. You’d say anything to turn me against my own people. I’ve had an earful tonight, I’m tired. Feel free to shut the fuck up.”