DIRE : BORN (The Dire Saga Book 1) (12 page)

The teen, Jamie, moved up to the double doors and pulled one open. “In past the altar, and up the stairs,” he said, and we passed through into the worship hall. More candles here, shadows dancing as we moved past carved columns and scattered pews. High ceilings too, with stained glass windows to either side, built to catch the sunrise and the sunset. Must have been a sight during the day, but now it was simply ominous. This place was lit by flashlights and electric lanterns, and the pews had been moved aside to make room for piles of, well, stuff. One side looked to be stacks full of electronics... televisions, computers, and game consoles made up most of it. Another pile looked to be cans of food. As I watched, a pair of gangers shook sealed packets of MRE's out of crates. The altar itself shown with the glitter of gems, as what appeared to be a huge heap of jewelry had been piled on the top of it. There were about a dozen Black Bloods in the room, and every one of them was armed with some sort of gun. The ones who weren't sorting goods were watching us with cold eyes.

“They been looting,” explained Martin.

“Looting? No,” said Jamie. “This is all tribute. The people around here need protection, and they're willing to pay for it.”

Roy snorted, but a glance from Martin stilled any words he might have had on the subject.

We passed through the worship hall, past the altar, into a small hallway beyond, lit by a single hanging lantern. There was a staircase at the end of the hall, and a few open doors revealing mostly unlit rooms. From one of them, I could hear the sound of a woman crying, interspersed with the slapping of flesh against flesh. A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I saw Minna clenching her fists open and shut, staring into the darkness.

“Protection, huh?” Roy muttered. “I bet.”

Against my expectations, Jamie looked away, looking almost ashamed in the split-second his face was still visible. It struck me that he was actually fairly young, as far as I could tell.

“It's up the stairs,” he said. “Come on.”

I put my hand on Minna's shoulder, and she looked to me, something dark and primal in her eyes. I shook my head, and mouthed “later.”

After a second she nodded, and we followed the men up the stairs.

Jamie led us up past the first landing and the door at the end of it, to a second and final landing. Heavy cloth hung across the doorway here, and a sweet scent drifted out from under it. Martin frowned. “He lives in that shit?”

“Yes,” Jamie said.

“And he's not ranting about three-headed moon men or stuff like that?”

Sangre's voice drifted out from behind the curtain. “Come in and judge for yourself. I can hear you, you know. Ah, you stay outside Jamie. I'll be fine.”

Roy shook his head and pushed aside the curtain.

If I'd thought the room downstairs had a lot of candles in it, this put it to shame. They were on just about every visible surface, casting dancing shadows across the sloped ceiling. Judging by the boxes and folded chairs stacked here and there, this was storage for the church.  In the center of it, a pile of blankets surrounded by rugs hung into curtains. Pale, feminine legs, two pairs of them, protruded out from the shadows of the makeshift bed.

Off to the side, dropping small bundles of herbs into hanging censers, stood Sangre. He was clad only in leather pants so tight that I had to wonder how he walked without chafing his anus. Smoke oozed out of the makeshift braziers, and billowed around the floor. An honest-to-god sword stood against the wall, next to a couple of pistols and SMG's dangling from hooks.

Sangre turned to face us with a hair flip that sent his waist-length blonde hair over a shoulder, a move that was far too practiced to be accidental. Fine lips curved in a smile, as he surveyed us. “Roy. Martin. And two women I don't know yet.”

The scent of the smoke tickled the back of my throat. I glanced to Martin, he shook his head. I breathed as shallowly as I could.

“This here's Miss Dire, and Miss Minna,” Roy said, and Sangre moved in closer, reaching out for us. Minna jolted back, almost toppling a box laden with candles, before catching it. I stood still as Sangre scooped up my hand, brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. Might I see that mask you carry with you?”

I unzipped the pack, showed it to him. He looked it over, smiled. “Caso and Bleeder had quite a lot to say a few nights back over a tall woman who was wearing that mask.”

“Caso and Bleeder went looking for trouble, and we didn't start shit,” said Roy. “Everyone walked away and weren't no harm done at the end of the night.”

Sangre smiled, his hand darting out and scooping up the mask as he turned it over and examined the back of it. I glared, but kept silent. If he got stupid I could tase him and get it back, and I doubted he could break it beyond my capability to repair it.

“Mmm. See, Roy, the problem with that is that you're not the guy who gets to decide if you need to pay the price or not. Despite what liberals will tell you,
a bunch of smelly hobos don't get to act like real people and try to stand up for themselves and then expect to walk away without paying the price!
”

In the space of a heartbeat he had whirled on Roy, and hissed out the words with pure malice in his voice. His demeanor had changed within an instant, and corded muscle stood out on his torso. We all took a few steps back, and I blinked. My head ached a bit. Was the smoke getting to me? Hard to tell. Either way the situation had taken a turn south, and I eased a hand onto my phone-taser.

Roy, to his credit, stood his ground. “Which is why I expect you took our food.”

Sangre chuckled, his smile reappearing as he patted Roy on the bearded cheek. “A plus. One hundred percent. Good answer. Don't worry, we'll put it to better use than a bunch of beachside garbage.”

Martin nodded. “Looks like you got plenty downstairs, though.”

Sangre shrugged, tossed the mask from hand to hand. “Maybe, maybe not. Reputable sources tell us that the power will stay off until certain people are good and happy with the situation. Could take a while.”

“Reputable sources?” I asked. “Who?”

He flickered, and was right in front of me. I blinked, my eyes had barely tracked that. The smoke was getting to me. We needed to wrap this up, and soon. Sangre stared me in the eye, his pupils dilated so wide that the only whites were rims to the side of his sockets. “Don't you worry your little head about that, Di. You mind if I call you Di? You look nothing like the poor lamented Princess, but that's okay.”

“She doesn't mind,” I muttered. “But we came here to trade for food.”

Sangre chuckled. “I already told you I'm not that hard up for companions.” He gestured toward the makeshift bed. “Besides, you're a bit plain for my tastes, Lady Di.”

“Not that,” I replied. “Generators.”

I'd originally planned to tell him about Sparky and offer to extend the range, but Sangre's sliminess was getting on my nerves. I didn't trust him knowing anything more about our camp and capabilities than necessary. I continued.

“Dire is good at making devices, such as generators. Give her a car and a few hours, and she'll rig up a hydrogen-fueled device capable of powering a building, maybe two if you conserve power.”

Sangre looked over at me, smiled. He tapped my mask against his chin. “Well. That's a kind offer. But I think no.”

A low curse from Martin, and Roy sagged. “All right. Sorry we wasted yer time.”

“Oh now, who said you did that? We're keeping her. If she's who I think, then there's someone looking for her, and they'll pay us all the generators or other things we could want.”

He was pointing at me. I took a few steps to the side, reached a hand for the pocket with the taser in it. Missed. Sangre advanced on me, smiling...

And Minna charged him.

Minna's body stretched impossibly, and the wall blurred in afterimage... the smoke. Had to be. I was feeling it more, but she wasn't, perhaps. She slammed into Sangre, carried him over. Then they were rolling on the ground, knocking over boxes and candles. I staggered back, looked toward the windows so far away. Windows. Fresh air... if I could get to them, open them...

A low cry of pain from behind me as I moved, and Roy telling Martin to get his arm, get his arm now dammit, but I ignored them, intent on the windows. But things got skewed, and I tripped over something in my path. I fell in a tangle of sheets as one of the curtains around the makeshift bed tore free. My hand slipped on something yielding, and I stared into the dead eyes of a pale woman.

The women in Sangre's bed were corpses.

It's hard to tell how long I spent staring at them. Their lips seemed to move as the shadows twisted, almost as if they were warning me to flee, but I was stuck staring. The smoke was skewing my sense of time, I could tell. Distantly I was aware that the scuffle behind me had stopped, and then strong arms hooked under my arms and dragged me back to the doorway.

A figure stood there. How long had it been there, watching the struggle? My senses fought the drug, fought to make sense of what I was looking at. Tall, muscular, bare-chested like Sangre had been, with countless scars and burns along his frame. A metal mask, cruder than my own, covered his head. It was featureless save for eyeholes, a bump for the nose, and some breathing holes. The eyes... the eyes weren't human. They looked human, but they weren't. Bloodshot. Dead.

“So this is the woman,” he rumbled, and I couldn't look away, caught like prey fixated on a predator. This stranger threatened by merely existing, loomed just by standing.

“Not much to look at, is she?” Sangre's cheerful voice from behind me. Ah, he was the one dragging me. “Still, I've done worse when I found it in my bed.”

Steel mask shook his head, my sight rendering after-images in the smoke. My eyelids drooped, as sense began to flee.

“No. She is theirs to torment however they choose, that's their right. I will go to see them. You are not permitted to harm the rest of this trash until I return. ”

Sangre sighed behind me, as my eyes shut. “As you wish, sir. As you wish...”

Then blackness, and I knew nothing more.

CHAPTER 7: Strange Bedfellows

“You're going to need allies. The truth of the human condition is that no one should ever go it alone, and despite your skill and talents, this is going to hold true for you, too. But be careful. Trust is never a guarantee, and often it will be a luxury you don't have time to verify. Always keep one eye open for betrayal, even when things are going well. Especially when things are going well. You'll find a few useful contacts in your phone. Once you get settled, give them a call. ”

--Excerpt #64 from the Dire Monologues

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a darkened room with my friends scattered around me. Two electric lanterns hung from the ceiling, illuminating a concrete walled space. Like the attic, this was filled with random stuff. I saw boxes, a couple of blackboards shoved against the walls, folders full of construction paper shapes and macaroni-pasted art projects. A small puppet booth sat near stairs leading up, and next to it sat Jamie, with Roy's gun in his hand. He had his hands on his knees, and was staring at us. It looked like I had been the last to wake up.

To the east of us, behind a thick wooden door, someone howled. It was a sound of pure pain, and it went on so long I wondered how they could keep it going without breathing. Jamie flinched, I think we all did. There was no sanity in that scream. It finally wound down, but was followed by the clanging of metal on metal.

As discreetly as I could, I checked my pockets. I still had the forcefield generator, the phone taser, and the universal remote. My backpack was missing, along with the ball drone and toolbox. Judging by the impression I had got of the jackass, Sangre would probably be keeping my mask. It was close enough to the one that his boss wore, that he might see it as flattery.

Well. He thought he'd be keeping that. I had other notions. “Everyone all right?” I murmured.

“Hey. Shut up,” said Jamie. He pointed the gun in our general direction.

We weren't in much shape to put up a fight. Hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked like Minna had a black eye. Martin's lips were busted and puffy, a trickle of blood drying on his face. Only Roy looked untouched.

Well. If we couldn't talk with Jamie present, we'd need to fix that obstacle. “Jamie?” I asked.

“Shut up.”

“She can make you rich.” He blinked, but shook his head.

“Ain't interested.”

“One phone call. She'll pay you ten thousand dollars for it.”

“Like a broke ass fucking bum has that kind of money.”

“Normally you'd be right. But how much is Sangre getting paid for turning her in?”

He was quiet for a minute, chewing on it. I dug out the phone. “Here. You can even make the call yourself. This will work even throughout the outage.”

“Throw it over.”

“Hell no, we're on a concrete floor.” I stomped on it, to emphasize a point. “Just don't shoot her, all right? She'll come over and leave it on that box, and you can pick it up after she moves back.”

“Don't try anything stupid. You live, but Sangre said to shoot the others if you got dumb.”

I nodded, and moved in, slowly.

Twenty feet from him, I leveled the phone and hit 'call'.

A flash, a sizzle, a bright arcing light as a miniature bolt jumped from the phone and I felt a bit of the current go through me as well. No way to properly shield it, and I could feel my hair stand on end as the volts grounded through me into the floor.

But the impact on Jamie was much more impressive. He fell, the gun hitting the ground with a clatter. He spasmed, arcs of miniature lightning darting and snapping around him as he drummed his heels on the ground and jerked back and forth until he finally slowed and stopped.

I walked over, scooped up the gun, and returned to the others. They were staring at me in shock. “All right,” I whispered. “Let's discuss getting out of here.” I offered the gun to Roy, butt first, and he took it with a grin.

“Like the Black Forest all over again. It's devil dog time.”

“What?” That made no sense to me.

“Nevermind. Anyway, first thing is to get up the stairs, but I dunno how many they got up there.”

I chewed my lip, and as I did so a howl echoed out from the east. I glanced at Jamie. He'd be out for maybe an hour, given his size and the amperage absorbed. “Wait here, guard the room,” I whispered to the others. Minna nodded. She moved up to stand next to the stairs, picking up a folding chair as she did so. Roy moved behind some boxes, rested the gun on them and waited, as still as death. Martin, for his part, jumped up as I started moving to the eastern door. “Whoa, hey, what are you doing. Whatever the fuck is going on with whoever the fuck that is, that is some shit we don't... want...” I ignored him.

The door opened into darkness. I moved back, unhooked a lantern from the ceiling, and shone it in. Pipes, machinery, a distributor hub for the church's non-functioning power. This was a utility room. And in the back of it, chained to the remnants of a water heater, was a hulking figure wearing bulky armor. It was made from car panels, from old appliances, and I saw cooling coils mixed in with capacitors. In some cases components were held in place with bailing wire.

The figure shifted as I shone the light on it, and heavy chains jangled. There was a padlock nearby, out of reach of the figure. It looked like it was securing the restraints around him. He jerked and twisted, and tried to point a gauntleted hand at me, and as he did it lit up with a series of colored lights. A rising whine started at the edge of my hearing. He had a sonic emitter of some sort built into the gauntlets of his armor, I realized. It seemed to be broken, which is why I still had intact eardrums right now.

I shut the door, beckoned Martin over with a nod of my head. “Hey. You mentioned someone last night. A hero called Scrapper?”

“Yeah.” I opened the door, and shone the light in. Eyes wide, he studied the figure. “Shiiiit. Yeah, that's him. The fuck they do to him?”

“Don't know,” I answered. I knelt down to study him, staying out of reach. He snarled, and that whine kept up. “Scrapper. Your enemies are our enemies. Can we make common cause?”

The whine disappeared. I flicked an eye toward the padlock. “She could push that in to you. Those look like augmented gauntlets, hydraulics. You could crush it, and pull the chains free.”

A coughing sob was his only reply.

I continued. “Will you take the fight to them, when you are freed? Will you kill the Black Bloods?”

A few throaty breaths, amplified by the voice modulator in his helmet. I couldn't read his face, as I shone the light on it. The cracked lexan panel of his faceplate was almost completely opaque with blood and other fluids. A gap of perhaps an inch revealed gore, a beard... Maybe a flicker of something that could have been an eye. Finally he opened his hands and put them on the ground, almost in supplication.

“This is a horrible idea,” Martin whispered. “Don't look like much of him's left in there.”

I shook my head. “Go tell the others to hide. Her idea, so she'll take the risk. Everyone else needs to get out of sight.”

“Your life, Dire girl.”

“She's probably got years on you, kid, so don't call her girl. Go.” He withdrew, leaving me and Scrapper in the utility room, with the cat's cradle of chains between us.

I sat down and started work, tracing them. I kept one hand on my phone taser, though I didn't know if the two shots I had left were enough to drop him. Whatever had been done to him, plus the unknown factor of his armor... this was a gamble.

But he didn't fight or fuss as I tested chains, looked for the slack, and found the correct strands to tug to pull the padlock closer to him. He stretched out a gauntlet as it approached, and I stopped it two inches from his grasp. He snarled, and I snarled back.

“Listen!” I put a commanding tone in my voice, and he quieted. “Head to the stairs, and good luck.” I thrust the lock into his hand, before retreating from the room and setting the lantern on the ground. I backed into the corner farthest from the stairs, and waited. I didn't have long to wait. I heard a screech of metal bending, the rattling clink of chains sliding loose, and a hissing, clanging series of thuds. The sounds of his armored bulk as it shifted and stood on the concrete floor.

It was loud, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, when I heard feet on the stairs and shouts from above. Two Bloods came tearing down the stairs, shotguns and flashlights out. I barely had the presence of mind to turn on my forcefield generator before their weapons were leveled at me. I raised hands, smiled.

“The fuck you do, bitch?” One of them spat.

“Made friends and influenced people,” I replied.

One of them cocked his shotgun, putting his flashlight under his chin to free up both hands to do it. “Make some fucking sense.”

I smiled as blandly as I could manage. “You should probably be running.”

Scrapper exploded out of the utility room at a faster speed than I'd guessed was possible, given the bulk of his suit. He screamed as he went, and they screamed back. Didn't see much else, as I was already diving for the ground. A shotgun barked, and then there were noises of metal impacting flesh at high speeds. Crunching noises followed, and screaming. More screaming. I didn't look up again until heavy, metal-clad footsteps sounded on the stairs.

When I rose up from my cover, I saw what he'd left of the two gangers. Worse, I smelled what he had left of them. I could hear Martin retching from another corner, and Minna was looking down from her spot behind the puppet stage, her hand over her face. Only Roy was unaffected, as he moved over and started sorting through the crushed mess that had been two teenagers a minute ago.

Overhead, heavy stomping feet pounded on the floor, and yelling mixed with gunshots. Scrapper's howling rose above it all, and I shook my head. I hadn't quite expected this level of savagery from him. But there was no point in angsting over it, we couldn't afford the luxury of reflection at the moment. I moved up to Roy, and he offered me a shotgun and a handful of shells. I took it, started loading. Minna made her way around the stage, picked up the other one from the ground. She moved slowly, her eyes glinting with unknowable thoughts in the lantern's light. Roy offered her a handful of shells as well, and she took them without comment. I used the time to pick up a bloody flashlight that one of them had dropped.

“Shit. How can you just—” Martin swallowed, made his way over. “Nevermind. We need to leave.”

“Not without the food,” Roy insisted.

“Also need to retrieve Dire's tools and mask,” I affirmed.

Someone screamed overhead, a rising wail cut off by a crunch. Martin shook his head. “You're all crazy.”

Minna cocked her shotgun, started up the stairs. I followed, grabbing her shoulder. “Let Dire lead.” She acquiesced, and Roy crept up behind us. Martin took the rear spot, and we got to the first floor. Above us rose the flight of stairs to Sangre's chamber, but the bulk of the noise came from the area back at the worship hall. As I stood there in indecision, Minna moved first. She headed to the darkened side-rooms, and shone a lantern into a doorway. “You! Come.” A girl moved out of the room, clad only in a large tee shirt, hands up and shaking.

“Calm yourself, you're among friends,” I said. “Martin, you think you can find an exit, get her out of here?”

“Uh. Yeah. Let me look around.” He took the girl's hand, and started poking around the hallway.

For my part, I ran upstairs to Sangre's room and used the barrel of the shotgun to move aside the curtain. The smoke hit my face, sweet and heady, but I ignored it and shone the flashlight around. Sure enough, my backpack was on the ground a little ways inside, and I put the flashlight down and retrieved it. A quick check showed the ball drone and toolkit inside, but no mask.

Gunfire from below, and the rising whine of a broken sonic emitter. If he was trying those, he was feeling hard-pressed. We might not have our distraction for much longer.

“Dire!” I whirled around, and saw dark shapes moving outside the curtain. The door down on the next landing had opened, and Black Blood gangers were trying to creep down the stairs. Light glinted off of gunmetal, and I cocked the shotgun and burst through the doorway. They had no time to react as the twelve-gauge thundered in my arms. One was blown against the wall, sliding down it and leaving smears behind.

Another one ran back through the doorway, but the third and fourth opened fire on me. I backed up as my forcefield whined... then a pistol barked a few times from below as Roy joined in, and another one groaned and sagged to the ground. The last one turned his back and tried to run back through the doorway after the second one. I unloaded the last barrel into him. He fell, sobbing in pain.

As I watched Roy shuffled upstairs, looked down at the sobbing one, and shot him. He stopped sobbing. “Cover me while I check them,” Roy said, and I moved down to the landing, peered through the door into a hallway that curved out of sight. There were more doors along it. No sign of the runner. I kept watch until Roy grunted, and pulled back. “Found some car keys. Look like they go to a Fjord.” More gunfire from below, and I glanced down the stairs. Couldn't tell for certain, but it looked like it was coming from the worship hall. A voice rose, it might have been Sangre's... I didn't have the chance to positively identify it before Scrapper howled again.