Authors: Kevin Kneupper
“Lick the floor, Karl,” said the Senator. And he did, without a second’s hesitation, dropping to his feet and giving the carpet before him a long, exaggerated pass with his tongue. He looked up for approval, standing nervously to his feet once he received a slight nod from Senator Fletcher.
“That’s power, gentlemen,” said the Senator. “That’s what you’re missing out there with your little guerilla war, and with your loyalty. You only could get a taste of it, back in the old days. But boy, was it good. You ever seen someone scurrying around just because you snapped your fingers? Doing anything you say, just ‘cause you said it? You just get this feeling inside you. Like you’re top dog, and nobody can stop you. Nobody can do a damned thing, because you’re king shit. It’s a rush. It gets the adrenaline flowing. You wake up feeling like crap? Well, you just tell somebody to jump out a window, and they do, and then it all feels a little better.”
The agents and the aide began fidgeting, disturbed by the comment. But the Senator just kept smiling, and they let themselves relax when he didn’t give any such order. He turned to the aide, and gave him a nod, and the aide reached behind the desk and pulled up a thick, heavy briefcase, placing it with a clunk in front of the Senator.
“Now,” said Senator Fletcher, nudging the briefcase towards Holt. “I got what you want. You give me what I want.”
Holt looked at the briefcase, and then looked at Thane.
“Thane,” said Holt. “Give him the sword.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“T
hey’re burrowing in the walls, I think,” said Uzziel. “I can hear them sometimes, tapping and clinking away. I’m sure of it.”
Jana had been listening to his ravings for the better part of an hour. She and Cassie had been brought to his chambers by Nefta, who’d woken up with a throbbing pain in her skull and filled with suspicion. She knew someone was up to something, she just wasn’t sure who. So she’d chosen to consult Uzziel, as the resident of the tower who was most alert to any potential threats. She wasn’t willing to leave them alone, not given what had happened, and so they were forced to accompany her. It was awful on Jana to sit through it, her thoughts torn between the night before and the threat before her.
“It must be the ones in the armory,” said Uzziel. “They’ve access to the tools needed to do it. It’s a foul plot, but an obvious one, and something we should have prepared for long ago. It was only a matter of time before they’d tunnel upward, spying on us in our sleep. We should execute the lot of them, and start anew with better precautions.”
He was twirling his beard, a compulsive fidget, and listening for the sounds of servants crawling about in the walls to enact their nefarious agenda. The room was filled with trophies, and had the feel of a hunting lodge. Weapons were mounted all around—a mace here, an axe there, and between them all the bodies of assorted creatures that he’d slain since the Fall, stuffed and posed to look as menacing as possible. Papers littered the floors in stacks, marked with notes and drawings of fortifications or plans of attack. A large map of the area surrounding the tower covered virtually an entire wall, and served as a pincushion for a horde of tiny colored flags that indicated points of strategic interest. Uzziel sat in a large leather recliner opposite Nefta, his feet propped on a rug made from the skin of a zebra. Jana and Cassie were forced to stand, and forced to listen.
“I haven’t heard any clinking,” said Nefta. “And the tower is made of sturdy stuff. I should think it would take centuries to carve any kind of tunnel, let alone an entire system of them. I’m less concerned about the servants, and more concerned about the source of the wine I was given.”
“They’re clever,” said Uzziel. “Very clever. You mustn’t underestimate them. There’s so many of them. They could be sowing dissention among us. They could be working for Lucifer. They could even be in communication with the Maker himself.”
“Lucifer is locked away,” said Nefta. “And the Maker doesn’t speak to them.”
“But he listens,” said Uzziel. “He’s always listening, and so are they. Listening from inside the walls. And plotting against us from outside them.” He glared over at Jana and Cassie, eyes widening as he took them in. Then he stood and began pacing, circling the room like a caged tiger, keeping them in his sight as he went. He tapped at the walls as he walked, observing the tone of the thuds, until he heard something he didn’t like. “A-hah!” he bellowed, slamming his fist into the wall beside him. The metal dented slightly, but held, and Uzziel looked at it in confusion.
“Perhaps not here, just yet,” said Uzziel. “But it’s been hollowed out somewhere. I can hear it.”
“Uzziel,” said Nefta. “You must focus. The servants may indeed be a threat, I don’t deny your theories.”
“My facts,” said Uzziel.
“Your facts,” said Nefta. “But I suffered from intoxication. No human wine could do that, only ambrosia. It must have been one of us, not one of them.”
“Hrmm,” said Uzziel, thinking to himself and tugging at his beard. “The corruption may be deeper than I suspected. But I see a flaw, an error in your thinking. It could not have been one of us.”
“And why not?” said Nefta.
“Because none of us could fit inside the walls,” said Uzziel, a look of triumph on his face as he extended his wings outward, flexing them to their widest span in a demonstration of the impossibility of Nefta’s complaint.
“Uzziel, I don’t ask that you believe me,” said Nefta. “All I ask is that you investigate. You’ve the greatest spy network in the tower. A very impressive feat, and one you should be proud of. Find whoever drugged me, and find out why, and you will have my gratitude.”
“I shall,” said Uzziel, as Nefta stood to leave. “But in the interim, you must be careful. You should execute these two, as a precaution and as a warning to the others. One shouldn’t leave one’s safety to chance.” Jana’s insides churned, and she nearly burst into tears. Nefta quietly looked them over, letting the comment linger before she spoke.
“We can’t get rid of them all, else who would attend to us?” said Nefta. “Rest assured that if I find that either of them are involved, they’ll regret it. I’ll simply turn them over to Ecanus and be done with the matter.” Then she headed towards the door, with Cassie and Jana following meekly behind her.
“Rest assured, little girl,” said Uzziel as Jana passed. “I’ll be watching the walls. And if I hear you inside them, you’ll answer to me.” She shuddered and turned her head to the floor, walking as quickly as she could to escape his attentions.
When they returned to Nefta’s chambers, she bid them to scrub. What they scrubbed, she did not care; she only wanted them to leave her in peace and give her time for thought. “Someone knows something,” she added, as she departed into her room. “And someone had better tell me what they know.”
“If you know something, you better say,” said Cassie, shoving a mop into Jana’s hand.
“I don’t,” said Jana hesitantly. She wasn’t sure what to do, and wasn’t sure who she could trust. She’d been escorted back safely by the man Rhamiel had recruited, but now she was sure their tryst would be exposed. They’d both been reckless; him in playing this game, and her in acquiescing. He’d promised her things would be fine before she’d left his embrace, whispering to her about a plan to fix everything. It would come soon, he said, and then they’d be together. But now there were threats all around her. If Nefta didn’t get her, it would be Uzziel or Ecanus, who still had poor Peter all to himself. It was all well and good for Rhamiel to take his time, but she couldn’t.
“Nefta’s right,” said Cassie. “Someone was up to something. I was plastered. I’ve never been so drunk, and my glass wasn’t even full. I still feel terrible.”
“Maybe it was Ecanus,” said Jana, pushing her mop up and down the floor. It was growing brown from a mix of soap and sawdust, which kept emerging from hiding places around the chambers just as fast as they could clean it.
“Maybe it was the men who helped us,” said Cassie. “One of the ones who gave us the wine. Nefta will be looking for them, you know. To question them. She’ll want to know what they know.”
“They seemed very nice,” said Jana, pushing her mop away from Cassie and away from the conversation. She hoped that she might evade Cassie that way, but she simply followed her, mopping the same areas as Jana and refusing to let her slink away.
“It’s a good thing you don’t know anything,” said Cassie. “Nefta will be torturing the truth out of those men. One of them will squeal, and give up everyone involved. Why, I heard she’s already on to something. One of the servants told me they saw something suspicious, out there at night.”
Jana dropped her mop with a loud clatter, tipping over a water bucket and spreading a pool across the entire floor. Her hands were shaking as she tried to clean it up, wiping away with a towel to try to contain the flooding. Cassie stood over her, blocking her progress with her feet.
“I know,” said Cassie.
Then it all poured out. “They didn’t tell me!” said Jana. “Not ‘til after it was done. The man said I had to go, and so I did, and then he sent me into the gardens.”
“Who?” said Cassie. “Whose wine?”
“I thought you knew,” said Jana, sobbing.
“I lied,” said Cassie. “But now I know enough. Spit it out. Who?”
“Rhamiel,” said Jana. “It was Rhamiel.”
“Rhamiel!” said Cassie. “You foolish little girl! Nefta’s already warned you about this. Can’t you see he’s using you? You’re just a plaything. You’ll be abandoned the moment he grows bored, and replaced with another. Then you’ll be left here, alone, with no one to protect you from Nefta, and no one to protect you from Ecanus.”
“He won’t,” said Jana. “He’s not like that, not inside. He’s not like the rest. There’s something in there, something shiny. Something of what they’re supposed to be.”
“They’re all like that,” said Cassie. “Whatever’s good in them is tarnished. They’ve fallen, and it’s gone now, if anything was ever even there.”
“They weren’t always,” said Jana. “She wasn’t always. You know she wasn’t. You came here. You pledged yourself to her. They must be better, better than what’s out there, at least. Or you wouldn’t have come here.”
“I didn’t come here to make friends with Nefta,” said Cassie. “And I didn’t come here to be their slave.”
“But you care about her, sometimes,” said Jana. “Sometimes she’s kind. I know they can be.”
“Sometimes she is,” said Cassie. “And sometimes I do. But she flips from kindness to rage, and back again, and there’s no way to know which she’ll be from one moment to the next. You can’t love someone who burns with so much envy and hate. Not even if they’re very sorry afterwards.”
“People come here to escape,” said Jana. “It must be better than what’s out there.”
“It’s not,” said Cassie. “The world out there’s a shithole, but it used to be ours, before they dragged us all down with them. They’re all bad, all of them, just in different ways. Rhamiel treats us just the same as all the rest. As toys, to be discarded when we’re no longer any fun.”
“He saved me,” said Jana. “He didn’t have to save me.”
“He’s no different from Ecanus,” said Cassie. “He only wants one thing, and he only helped you to get it.”
“Then he would have just taken it,” said Jana. “If he were Ecanus, he would have just taken it.”
“I could tell her now, you know,” said Cassie. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”
“No!” said Jana. “Please!” She started to cry, tears streaming down her face as she clutched at Cassie’s dress. She fell to her knees, begging and pleading, and wondering how Cassie could be so cold. She had nothing but venom for the angels, and here she was threatening to throw her to the wolves.
“I’m not going to,” said Cassie, pulling Jana to her feet by the scruff of her neck. “But you’re going to do something for me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“F
uck you! Fuck all of you!” yelled Thane, waving the sword in a shimmering arc of fire in front of him. The room was filled with screams and drawn weapons. The Secret Service agents were pointing their guns at Thane, ordering him to drop the sword. Faye had her pistol trained on them, and Dax was pointing his at the Senator with one hand and wiping sweat from his forehead with the other.
The aide had ducked behind the table, but the Senator was taking it in stride, watching Thane in awe as he wielded his prize. “That’s it, boy!” cheered the Senator. “Show us the fire inside!” No one else was enjoying things, and Holt had his palms up towards Thane, trying to ease him off the ledge.
“Just give him the sword,” said Holt. “No one’s going to hurt you. He’s not going to hurt any of us. But this is what we came here for. This is why we put in all the work we have. This—”
“For fuckin’ money?” yelled Thane, slicing the sword in the air towards Holt. “You fuckin’ sell us all out? You’re all talk. You talk about stoppin’ all of this, and then you fall in with these assholes the second there’s a payday.”
“Open the god damned briefcase,” said Holt, and the aide obliged, clicking it open and flipping it around to face them.
There was no money. It was all metal inside, a shiny silver interior with a large cylinder embedded in the bottom half and running its entire length. The top half was filled with wires and circuit boards, with a keypad attached.
“It’s a bomb,” said Holt.
“A nuclear bomb,” said Dax, dropping his pistol to his side and adjusting his glasses to get a better look.
Thane stopped in his tracks, holding the sword still in front of him. “That thing is a nuclear bomb,” he said incredulously. “That little thing.”
“A miracle of the Cold War,” said the Senator. “It’s been kicking around in a basement somewhere for decades, but it’s in mint condition. The Russians had ‘em, so we had to, too. They had dozens of these things, planted in every major city. If push ever came to shove, there were always some KGB boys living here in hiding, ready to set a few of them off.”
“It’s true,” said Dax. “The Russian ones were publicly known. We never acknowledged having any, but come on. Everyone knew we had to.”
“We couldn’t let them have a toy to play with unless we got one, too,” said the Senator. “And now you get to be the ones to try it out.”
“Give him the sword,” said Holt. “This is a good trade. We’re going to kill dozens of them, at least. You’d never get that many without it.”
“We’re gonna do it. We’re gonna take down the Perch,” said Thane, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. He slipped the sword back into its scabbard, carefully, and tossed it onto the desk with a clunk. Then he sank back into his seat, as Faye moved in to comfort him and make sure he didn’t light up again.
“This is a beauty,” said the Senator. “A real beauty. The suitcase, that was hard to get. But it was all a matter of finding it. Getting a sword, that’s a whole different ball game. You’re making a poor trade, you ask me. You know how desperate some of the angels are to get one of these? They don’t all have them. Not everyone was packing heat when they got tossed over the side. And boy, the things they worry about. One of them doesn’t have a sword, he’s a nobody. He gets looked down on. He’d do anything to get his hands on one, and now I’m the only game in town.”
“We’re getting what we want,” said Holt. He snapped the briefcase shut, locking it up and dropping it to his side.
“Suit yourselves,” said the Senator. “It’s your life to waste. You want to kill a few of them, no skin off my back. There’s more of these where this came from, too. We even got a few missiles still lying around, if you get me something worth the trouble. That’s assuming any of you survive. You won’t, but hell, stranger things have happened. Maybe you’ll pick another sword or two out of the rubble. I’ll still be here if you do.”
“Maybe you won’t be here once your masters are gone,” said Holt. “They’re what’s propping you up. Kick that leg out from under the table, and the whole thing’s going to collapse. You won’t have the threat of the angels, and you won’t have any way to make people fall in line.”
“There’s always going to be a need for someone to tell the others what to do,” said the Senator. “People don’t like to be free, not really. Then they’d have to make decisions, all on their own. And when you’re the one making decisions, you’re responsible if it all goes to shit. People want men like me, even if they won’t admit it. They want someone to curse for everything that’s wrong in their lives. Licking my floors gives a man a purpose. Doesn’t it, Karl?”
“Yes, sir,” said one of the Secret Service agents.
“He may not particularly like that purpose,” said the Senator. “But he knows what it is, and he knows what he has to do, and he knows where he’s supposed to be. He doesn’t have to wake up every morning and find something to fill the emptiness in his life. He just shows up and does what I tell him to. Then he doesn’t have to think. He doesn’t have to worry. He doesn’t have to plan. He’s a slave, and he likes it, and everyone’s a whole hell of a lot happier. He gets three hots and a cot, and a meaning for his otherwise pointless existence. And I get whatever I want.”
“That’s people’s problem,” continued the Senator. “That’s why they need me. They think there’s a meaning to life out there someplace just waiting for them to find it, but there ain’t. There’s only whatever meaning you make up for yourself. And they just can’t do it, not on their own. Most people aren’t leaders; they need leaders, any leaders. And just why in the world would I lead people someplace I didn’t want to go?”
“So you could be a decent person, instead of a complete jackass?” said Faye.
“Decent people don’t become leaders,” said the Senator. “Decent people mind their own business, and live and let live. They find their own meaning, and leave others to theirs. If I gave a damn about decency, I’d never have made it here. A decent person tries to be a leader, and he ends up like you. Running off to kill himself, in a fool mission for a fool cause. You go on fighting decent, and I’ll go on fighting dirty, and we’ll just see who ends up on top.”
Holt turned, and walked towards the door, as the rest of them got up to follow. “One other thing, while we’re on the subject of decency,” he said. “I’ve got one other request before we leave. I need a doctor.”
“Sure,” said the Senator. “Like I said. You’re a man I can do business with. Stupid enough to fight for a cause, but not stupid enough to think he can do it without dealing with a lesser evil such as myself. We’ll keep you alive long enough to swing a punch.”
“It’s not for me,” said Holt. “It’s for her.” He pointed to Faye, who tried to look tough. She was embarrassed to be discussing her affliction in public, let alone in front of the Senator, but she appreciated the concern all the same.
“Poor girl,” said the Senator. “Life on the outside getting too tough? All kinds of things you can catch when you’re out in the wilderness, drinking dirty water, eating uncooked food. We’ve got the finest doctors still around in here.”
“It’s nothing like that,” said Holt. “I don’t know if they can help her, but I want someone to try. One of the angels did something to her, when we were getting the sword. She’s been speaking in tongues, not all the time, but—”
“Get her out of here!” yelled the Senator, suddenly standing from his chair in a fury. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”
The agents swarmed, one guiding the Senator as he made his escape, and the others advancing on Faye. “What the fuck?” she said, as they waved their guns and began the standoff anew. The Senator disappeared into the bowels of the capitol, leaving the rest of them to deal with his newly agitated subordinates.
“They’re in her head,” said the aide. “You have to leave. Now.”
“Fine,” said Holt. “We just wanted to get her some help.” He waved Dax towards the door, and put a hand on Faye’s shoulder. It was little comfort. She looked stunned, unable to process what was going on. She’d known it wasn’t good, having those strange voices spewing from inside her. But she’d seen something in the Senator—fear, fear of her, or whatever was in her.
“No one can help her,” said the aide, ushering them out the door as quickly as he could. “You have to get out of the city. And then you have to dump her somewhere, alone. Somewhere far from here.”
“She’s not somebody’s unwanted pet,” said Holt. “We’re leaving your little plantation, and we’re not coming back. But we’re not leaving her.”
“You will, or you’ll die,” said the aide. “One of them is in her head. A miracle-worker. It’s a trick they know from their time up there. She’s praying, singing praises to the Maker.”
“To God,” said Holt.
“A point of diplomatic protocol,” said the aide. “They don’t recognize his sovereignty any longer, so we don’t, either. Regardless, it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. It used to be a sign of faith. They aren’t much for that anymore, but they can use it to track her. And that means they can track you.”