Ashes of the Fall (27 page)

Ashes of the Fall and Spanish come charging at me. Spanish reaches me first, since he was hiding in the store across the street, behind a bookshelf in the front display. Bearing an axe, he looks ready to decapitate me for his prize.

I roll out of the way, unable to stand, as the axe collides against the pavement with a huge
thud
. My safety is short lived, because I knock right into Ashes of the Fall’s legs. He grunts as I hit his wound, but then I feel myself lifted up by strong arms.

The .38 sits helpless in my waistband.

Ashes wraps his broad arms around my neck. I struggle for air.

“He’s mine,” the guy says to his companion, “back off.”

Spanish glowers a few yards away, holding the axe, uttering spitfire questions.

“I don’t know what you’re sayin’
amigo
,” Ashes says, “but you’ll get your cut.”

My injured leg hanging limply at my side, I realize that there’s only one way out. Mustering as much energy as I can, I force the leg backwards, into my attacker’s injured limb. He buckles and his grip loosens.

I stumble forward, and Spanish swings his axe towards my head. I duck just low enough, and I hear the axe strike true with a sickening thud. Ashes lets out a burble but is either too stunned or too dead to speak.

I reach for the .38 to finish the job while Spanish is busy trying to free his axe, but he wisely lets the tool go and kicks my hands. The gun clatters off to the side, near the bookstore across the street. Harmless.

For now.

Ashes tumbles into a heap behind me, the axe handle cracking as he collides with the pavement. Spanish, his eyes on me like a wolf’s, his hands spread in front of his chest, stalks forward, ready to grab me. He lunges, and I sidestep, a sharp pain shooting through my thigh. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

We square off in the street again, separated by only five feet. There’s no sign of Bogden. Whether he’s abandoned his campaign or gone in search of backup is unclear. It would be prudent to consider the latter and end this current altercation as quickly as I can. But it’s not for lack of trying that I’m still here.

Spanish rushes forward again, this time managing to grapple me to the ground. He flings me on to the pavement, the impact knocking some of the wind from my lungs. I groan, and then he’s already on his feet, ready to pounce and choke the life from me.

With the last bit of will I have, I reach into my pocket and pull out the knife. I hold it upwards just as he flies through the air. His eyes flash with horror as he realizes, too late, that he’s condemned himself to die.

The blade cuts through his ragged leather jacket, cracking his ribs as it plunges into his lung. Blood drips out of his mouth, on to my head, as he chokes. His body slumps on top of mine. It takes what remains of my strength to push him off as he bleeds out.

I go to collect the gun, where it fell. But my gaze falls on nothing but empty pavement.

“Goodbye, Stokes,” Bogden says. “And thank you for making the bounty easier for me to collect.” I hear the hammer click. Five bullets left. “In the end, we all get caught.”

Behind him, I hear the throb of a growing crowd. They’ve come to inspect the fire, the gunshots—they don’t need GPS to figure that such a commotion might mean I’m around. The gun fires, a bullet ripping through my shoulder. I stagger forward, willing myself to run. Another bullet screams over my head.

“No, you idiots,” I hear Bogden scream, “he’s mine.” There’s a pounding symphony of footsteps as people rush up the street. I pick up the pace, every step a trial. I get to the end of the corner, the mob roaring now, Bogden yelling in the middle of it.

I hear a gunshot, then another.

I keep pushing, hoping that the distraction’s enough for me to put distance between me and him. It isn’t. When I round the corner, I’m not ten feet up the next street before I hear him scream, “Stokes!”

It’s hard not to stop when you hear your name called. It’s like a command—hard-wired to be obeyed. My shoulders stiffen, pain shooting through the injured one. Too late, I realize I need to keep moving.

But it’s hard to keep going when everything hurts. I manage a few steps, but then the final bullet sails out and thuds into the back of my torso. And then everything spins and falls, and the world winks out of existence.

When I awake
, my first thought is simple: I can’t be alive. Bogden shot me twice, was closing in. Surely he finished what he started—claimed his bounty and punched his ticket out of there. If not him, then one of the other screaming people closing in on my helpless body.

But here I am, alive, lying beneath a single bulb dangling from a long chain. Pliers go into my torso, come out with a bloodied bullet. I try to get up, pain searing my abdomen, but there’s no way I can. They’ve strapped me to the table. An empty IV leads into my arm. Apparently they ran out of sedative.

The doctor removes his surgical mask and looks down.

“You’re a tough summa bitch, you know that?” He nods towards a man standing in the corner, who comes forward, into the light.

“Slick,” I say through parched lips. The patch jobs holding together my torso and shoulder sting when I try to speak. “You.”

“You tried to fuck me, Luke,” he says in that warbling voice of his. The veins in his forearms bulge. “You think I wouldn’t find out?”

I laugh, which proves to be a mistake. “I thought you wouldn’t find out until I was gone.”

“What’d Blackstone and that snake Kid offer you?”

I think about it and realize the truth. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Luke.” His broad head comes down within inches of mine, spit dripping off his lips like a wild dog’s. “You lie to me, Luke, and I swear—”

“That why you patched me up,” I say. “Just to kill me?” He backs up, the bluff called. “Evelyn told you?”

“She said you wanted the drive, and then you just left. She was worried.”

“I didn’t want the drive anymore,” I say. “So I didn’t really fuck you. Only thought about it. Hell, if I got in trouble for that, I’d—”

“Watch it, Luke.”

I continue anyway, “If I got in trouble for every con I thought about running, you’d have wanted to kill me a long time ago.” I try to shrug, but the leather straps keep me on the table. So I say, “But hey, I got morals buried somewhere deep inside.”

And they got me shot twice, stabbed and on the road to being completely screwed. Had I just gone along with Blackstone and Kid, grabbed the drive, none of this would’ve happened. Then again, why had Kid left me behind? That was an odd mistake for someone as smart as him. Calculate the exact trajectory to knock down part of a city and create chaos, but fail to keep an eye on your supposedly prized asset?

That didn’t quite track.

“Yeah, I bet you’re just brimming with empathy and love for mankind,” Slick says, letting out a weary sigh. He reaches down and starts undoing the straps. “But you learned from me, so I can’t blame you if you’re a piece of shit, bud.”

“Taking responsibility is the first step to recovery.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

I do. He helps me off the table. I test my injured leg, find that the doc’s bandage does a decent job of supporting my weight so I can walk semi-decently. The torso and the shoulder, well, not so much. Breathing is a chore. Each one is a cautious, halting endeavor, a futile attempt to find a sweet spot where it doesn’t feel like my entrails are being torn out.

Finally, I give up and just suck air through my clenched teeth.

“That was your mob,” I say, putting things together. “You came after my ass.”

“After Evelyn came by and told me about you, I decided it was best to track you myself. We got Tanner’s bulletin loud and clear over here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a watch. GPS locator. “A couple guys, tracking from a distance. You’d never see them.”

“I didn’t, no.”

“They’re good,” Slick says. He opens the door, into a long hallway. I realize I’m back at AoF HQ. Clearly they want something, otherwise they wouldn’t drag my ass down here as the Otherlands burns. “Then, when you pulled that stunt with the buildings, I saw an opportunity.”

“To snatch my ass up?”

“To take control of the city,” Slick says. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. First, Atlanta. Then the remainder of the Otherlands.”

“Republic of the AoF,” I say. “Has a nice ring to it.” I stop next to a small, grime-smeared window to lean up against the wall and catch my breath.

“I have something for that, if you want.”

“Let me guess,” I say, pushing off the wall to continue what feels like a ten-thousand mile journey, “it has a price.”

“You got lucky that mob was in your vicinity when our trackers radioed in about your attackers. Otherwise, that bald-headed loon would’ve snuffed you out.”

“What happened to him?”

“Same thing you did to his four friends, according to our scouts,” Slick says. “Didn’t think you were much of a fighter.”

“Living on the plains toughens a man up,” I say. We reach the end of the hallway and make a turn. It’s another ten feet before Slick throws open two double-doors. A large, cavernous room with twenty-foot ceilings greets my gaze as I limp through.

Whiteboards, corkboards, tables full of dossiers and plans—it’s clear that this is the heart of the assault. Those most loyal to the cause mill around, radioing in orders over walkie-talkies. A man near one of the whiteboards—which I now realize has a hand-drawn map of Atlanta on it—shades in another area as blue.

“We’ve taken the majority of the Black Hole and the south part of the city,” Slick says.

“You take the plaza yet?” I don’t tell him why.

“Blackstone’s forces have rallied nearby,” he says. “It’s gonna be bloody getting through.”

I think
FUCK
to myself, but try to maintain a stoic expression.

“So why am I here,” I say. Slick shakes his head, as if to say
not right now
, and then points to a back office. Following him amidst the flurry of activity, I see a number of questioning eyes all wondering the same thing about me.

Whether or not they can trust me. Feeling’s mutual, but I don’t think announcing that will assuage their doubts.

Slick shuts the door behind us and then looks at me. “You know we’re for real, bud.”

“Is that what that little dog and pony show was about?”

“We’re not a militia,” Slick says. “This is real.”

“So you figure I’ll throw in with you if I think you can win?” Glad everyone has a such a low opinion of my character. Then again, that might be earned.

“Change is happening whether you side with Blackstone, Tanner, the Lionhearted or no one at all, bud,” Slick says. “So why not with your old friend?”

He slaps me on the back—on purpose, most definitely—and I almost buckle. Then he walks towards his desk and opens up one of the drawers. A bottle of whiskey comes out, followed by a bag of pills.

“These are like white gold,” Slick says, tossing them on the table. I can see the oblong tablets from here. Some sort of heavy painkiller. “You know what people will do for these out here?”

I have a feeling that he’s found out more than once over the past six months just how far a man will go to get blitzed. No doubt one of his secrets to success.

“You know,” I say. “I’m fielding offers from a lot of teams now. Maybe I should wait for the Rems and the Lionhearted to call in, see what they can give me.”

“Funny, Luke,” Slick says. “But watch it, bud.”

“Should’ve told me that before someone shot me twice.”

“The whiskey, the meds, they’re yours,” he says, gesturing towards them.

“Tell me why I’m here,” I repeat.

“You think I want your help, Luke,” Slick says. “Is that it? You think I
want
you here?”

That catches me off guard. I give him a funny look, and no words come to mind. Of course he wanted me here—it’s Slick. Right? But his eyebrows are knitted together somewhere between an expression of outright disgust and annoyance.

“You’ve left a trail of shit behind everywhere you’ve been the past six months,” Slick says. “Your brother contacts you. He winds up dead.”

“That’s not fair.”

“And then that girl, the Alonso one?”

“Carina,” I say.

“I hear she’s captured by the Circle not long after.”

I think about how Blackstone told me that she was fine. Cooperating. That was a lie.

“And then, after all that, I save your ass from death’s door, and you
fuck
me, kill one of my best guys, leave two others out in the wastes.” He shakes his head. “You’re like a one man plague, Stokes.”

“Not sure I agree,” I say, a little fight returning. That’s bullshit, to lay all this on me. Everyone knew they were playing with fire—Carina, Jackson, Matt. Poke the Circle and it’s like a bear. Everything’s fine until it rips your head clean off.

“I could give a shit if you agree, bud,” Slick says, sweeping his hand across the desk. The plans and models of the city go flying off. Plastic shards fly across the room from the impact. “And then, after all that, you’re gonna just hand over the keys to HIVE to Blackstone and that rat Kid.”

“You’re the one who didn’t know he was a rat.”

“Don’t test me, Luke.” His broad chest quivers. I wonder how fast I can get to the door. Not quick enough. “And after you go to see Evelyn, she’s gone. Poof.” He snaps his fingers.

This makes me stop. “What do you mean?”

“She was headed out the gate around the time those buildings came down. Said she had a lead on cracking the drive,” Slick says. “Thought she should check it out.”

“How you know something happened? You see it?”

“I had a couple men follow her, just like you. They lost her within a couple blocks.”

“Maybe she slipped your tail.”

“They found this.” Slick hands me a hair ribbon, used to tie a bun. I can smell the lilac before I even touch it. On the frayed edges, there’s the tiniest hint of blood.

“She could’ve dropped it,” I say, but I feel like I’m grasping at straws.

“She could handle herself,” Slick says, implying that it wasn’t a random act of violence. “
You
brought this on her. Just like all the others, bud.”

“If I did, then I learned from the best.”

He smirks, and I can see the barb cuts deep. “You’ve always been a prick, you know that, Luke?”

“Doesn’t make me wrong.” I limp to the desk and grab the bottle of whiskey. He doesn’t stop me as I take a long drink. Then I shake out a couple painkillers from the bag, take those too. “If that’s all, you could’ve saved your breath.”

Acting like I don’t care.

But it does hurt. No question about that.

“I told you before, I didn’t want you here.” Slick pauses. “I needed you.”

I pocket the pills and take another pull from the whiskey before putting it back on the desk.

“I’m touched. Why?”

“I saw the journal,” Slick says. Which wipes any glibness away from me like an eraser on a chalkboard. Gone. “Before Kid took the strongbox with him. Your strongbox, from the—”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” So it wasn’t torched, disposed of, or unimportant.

It was the most important damn thing in the world, and I didn’t even look at it out there in the Lost Plains, with nothing to do. Because I was done with everything.

“If you put together this HIVE business for Blackstone and Kid,” he says, his voice mournful, “it’s the end of everything. We won’t stand a chance.”

I’m not sure if he means the Ashes of the Fall.

Or humanity.