A/N: Good news everybody. I'm not dead. If you didn't know I'm in college and have been extremely busy for the last few months with little time to sleep let alone write. But I'm back for now. If I disappear again understand that I'm probably busy with school.
This story and every story I write from here on out will be dedicated to my mother.
Enjoy the story.
The cratered moon sank low, its nearly full form fading so that all that remained was a ghost in the cloudless sky. Night soon became day, and the sun, reaching for its place as master of the heavens, brought with it a terrible heat that scorched the irradiated dunes and the barren highways. A heat that made travel difficult, if not dangerous.
Out supply of water, originally meant for two, had quickly disappeared. Little remained for the duration of the coming day, and if not rationed properly the meager supply would be gone by evening if not sooner.
Fortune, however, smiled upon us. Our destination was not far, and by midday the city could be seen far to the east. Towers of steel and concrete and glass, having once withstood the final bombs of war and then the lonely years that followed, stood tall like beacons in the vast wastes. A map marker for a promised oasis.
"We're here!" proclaimed Adam the moment that we crossed over into the city boundaries, an excitement not usual of his timid demeanor overcoming him. He took hold of the girl by her thin shoulders and rocked her back and forth. Bot circled happily above.
The girl, neither opposed nor enjoying her companion's antics, remained rather blank, as if she were a book whose pages had yet to be written. I studied her face briefly and without being noticed, catching sight of the apprehension that surrounded her like an ill-fitting cloak. Her sharp eyes were alert; her movements tense. She was afraid, yet far to proud to ever admit it.
The rural freeway that we had dutifully followed since leaving town now grew in size, widening as it cut a path of least resistance through densely packed neighborhoods - that may have once thrived in a different era - and twisted closer to the city's heart. More and more cars packed the roadway the farther we went, many of which having been abandoned while attempting to leave the city. Nearly all had been picked clean by scavengers; others were used for target practice.
An overpass spanning the highway had collapsed ahead of us, crushing anything unfortunate enough to have been caught underneath at the time and effectively ending the eight lane expressway. With little choice, we followed an exit ramp down to the shattered streets below, leaping over ruptures in the asphalt and potholes as large as well fed brahmin. The road we found ourselves on was just as ruined but led unobstructed into the dead metropolis.
Drew quietly observed our surroundings, looking from one ruined storefront to another. "So this is Indy? Not much to look at."
The decaying neighborhoods - lacking any significant resources to be of value - had instead become little more than squatter havens. Vagrants, unable to make a living within the city, had instead come here to eke out a miserable existence. Others, pass the point of exhaustion, both physically and mentally, had come here to die. Beggars approached us as we passed, asking for food or water or caps. Some watched with ill intent in their eyes, an animalistic hunger that had beat down their humanity so that redemption was all but impossible.
Needless to say, my weapon was never too far from my reach.
"This place is a shit-hole," continued Drew, pushing aside an ailing man who had come to beg for food. "Ya sure this is the right place? What right-minded would come here?"
"Guessing this is your first time being here," I assumed.
A ragged man with all the characteristics of a yao guai ducked into cover upon seeing us approach, disappearing inside an old barbershop whose windows had been boarded up. I reached into my jacket and slid a hand around the grip of my revolver, my index finger looping through the trigger guard. The masked man noticed the movement and followed my gaze to where the yao guai man had just been.
We passed by the building without incident. Still, I remained alert.
"What of it?" Drew spat.
"There's a lot more to this city beside squatters," I told him, lowering my arm.
"Then how about a tour since ya obviously know more than I do. Any decent restaurants nearby? A bar or two would be nice as well." Drew clapped his hands together. "Sightseeing! Gotta be some cool things to see in a city. Should have brought my damn camera."
"Your sarcasm is impeccable," I muttered, resisting the urge to violently kick him. "Just don't piss off the wrong people and maybe you won't be shot."
"Shot? I'm more afraid of catching tetanus that taking a bullet in my ass. Look at this place! It's a fucking hellhole! Just a bunch of bums waiting to die. That guy over there is dead!" exclaimed Drew, pointing to where a man had expired along the side of the road.
Adam looked away, but Cooper glanced with morbid curiosity.
"We haven't even made it to the circle yet. Wait until we reach downtown," I told him.
"And downtown is gonna be so much better. Let me guess: more food than ya can even imagine, water as clean as can be, and enough booze and whores to satisfy all the men in the region. Sounds like a fucking wonderland."
"Judge for yourself. We're almost to the river now."
"There's a river?" asked Adam, an edge of excitement to his voice.
I nodded. "Yeah. Have you ever seen one?"
Cooper answered. "The town was built over an aquifer. Ground water."
I was sincere when I said, "That sounds useful."
Before his death, my father would travel twice or even three times a week to a nearby river, using an old cart to haul the plastic jugs that he and my mother had collected over the years. It was a ritual necessary to our survival. A chore that, while not difficult, was time consuming.
Once, when I was young, I had gone with my father to the river. The water, so much in one place, had left me in awe, my juvenile mind unable to fully comprehend the vast amount that stretched far off to the horizon in either direction. I remember my father filling the plastic containers while I stood at the river's edge, barefoot in the cool water with the opposite shore too distant to be seen by my eyes.
I never saw that river again.
"I guess it was," thought Cooper aloud.
The masked man tapped my shoulder and motioned with his head that I should look back behind us. I did. Trailing us, without even attempting to be subtle, was the yao guai man. Worse still, he had been joined by a small mob of other like minded vagrants. A murderous procession that was more animal that human.
"We're almost to the checkpoint," I told the masked man. "Just stay on guard." Vagrants whose minds had gone mad were far from threatening. Still, they were unpredictable.
The masked man glanced my way but eventually nodded.
The shanty town soon fell away as the uneven road inched closer to the city center, crossing through a desolate area that may have once been a park of sorts that ran along the river. The river itself lay ahead, its waters dark and muddy and no doubt contaminated with the fallout of atomic war.
A checkpoint blocked the road, denying access to one of the few remaining bridges that crossed the river. On guard were several men wearing mended combat armor that was more threatening in appearance than damage resistant. A large hound dog lay near the men, panting heavily in the heat. Above, hanging from the steel beams of the bridge, was a flag marked with the symbol of the city: a hollowed circle with a smaller dot resting in the center.
The guards saw us and halted their card game. They spoke briefly amongst themselves before one stood and walked our way. He carried with him an assault rifle that seemed to be in better condition than his armor. His eyes were hard, if not bored. "The Disciples welcome you to Indy. Abide the law and enjoy your stay."
I nodded to show that I understood and we were allowed to cross.
The vagrants that had hungrily stalked us through town now came to a halt, most confused and some panicking. The city guard raised his rifle and, without a word, challenged them to step forward. None did. Finding better judgment, they retreated along with the yao guai man. Lowering his weapon, the guard returned to the card game with a disappointed sigh.
Adam slid under the rusted railing that separated the street from the pedestrian walkway. He was joined by Cooper and together they stared out across the river, looking first to the distant horizon and then down to the dark waters below.
"Who the hell are the Disciples," asked Drew as we crossed the bridge.
"They own the city," I answered.
We now truly entered the city. The roads had been cleared of any unsightly debris and were maintained regularly be a dedicated workforce. Buildings had been restored to a livable condition, and vegetable gardens grew wherever they could. People who did not have to beg for their next meal went about their day, tending to plants or hurrying from one place to another. Some, wastelander tourist, marveled at the towers that reached incalculable heights. Others, city guards, maintained the peace.
"The Disciples rebuilt this city," I added. "Raiders who saw it more lucrative to be rulers rather than plunderers. Their determination paid off. Indy is now the largest settlement within a hundred miles, but it's leaders are still raiders at heart. Greed controls this place. Everything is for sale: drugs, weapons, people."
"Are they really here?" asked Cooper in a low voice.
"Every slaver and slave owner in the region comes here. Dozens of people are sold off like cattle on any given week. It makes sense to bring them here."
"You really know a lot about this," stated Adam.
I shrugged. "I've been here before. Made sense to learn about the city and its rulers." I checked the time and date on my Pip-Boy. "They have auctions every week. Same time and place. The next one is soon."
I led the others deeper into the city, the streets coming to life the closer we came to the downtown center. Open-air markets filled entire city blocks, the merchants shouting above the noise of the bustling crowd for any who passed to buy their wares. Children weaved in and out of legs and down alleyways in hectic games of tag. Guards singled out and threatened would-be troublemakers. Everywhere was engulfed in methodical chaos.
We headed south down a major road that bisected the city, towards what had once been the industrial district and still was by some extent. Its warehouses and factories had become the center of the Disciple slave trade and weapons manufacturing. Potential buyers marched in droves to where the selling would take place, seeking reliable firepower or cheap labor. All were welcomed to attend. We did not attract attention.
"Look at all the people," stated Adam in amazement, pressed close to the girl as everyone around us jostled for a better position near where the slaves would be sold. "I've never seen this many people in one place before."
"Imagine it before the war," I told him, standing on the tips of my toes just so I could see the platform where the "merchandise" would be displayed. "A city this size could easily have a million people or more. And there are bigger cities than this."
"That's a lot of people," muttered Cooper with little interest. The eyebot whistled as if in agreement, though likely only wanted to make itself noticed.
An older man whose thinning hair had long ago grayed took to the stage, his moth eaten tweed suit seeming to glow under the bright sunlight. He used a megaphone to project his voice so that even the farthest of onlookers could hear him. Most of what he said dealt with today's auction: rules, payment, etc.
Drew leaned in close to me so that I could more easily hear him. "So what's the plan gonna be? Storm the stage?"
"Not even Captain Cosmos would survive that." I shook my head. "Too many guards for a direct approach. Maybe we could buy them?"
The auction began. An old woman was led onto the stage by a Disciple guard. She was modestly dressed and didn't seem entirely displeased to be there. Maybe a bit annoyed if anything. The man in the tweed suit, the auctioneer, gave a quick overview of the woman - apparently she was the best indentured cook this side of the Ohio River - and began the bidding. A few halfhearted offers later and the price for the woman neared almost four hundred caps before selling.
A scowl had come to Drew's face by the time the elderly woman had stepped down from the stage. "Hope ya got a nice allowance this week because no way in hell can we afford them. Four hundred caps for an old hag!? Don't wanna even think what two kids will fetch."
My finger scratched absently at my neck. "I was kind of hoping that... maybe you would have some spare caps."
"Now why would ya go and think something stupid like that?"
Adam solemnly added, "We don't have anything either."
"Dirt poor," threw in Cooper.
The eyebot beeped lowly.
We all looked to the masked man. He shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he had nothing or nowhere near enough to buy the freedom of three children - which was as good as nothing.
"What are we going to do?" asked the boy in despair. The girl said nothing, but it was clear that she felt the same if not worse.
"I'll think of something," I assured them. "I always do."
"Like that time with the radioactive...," began Drew.
I stopped him before he could continue. "Please don't bring that up again. I still have nightmares."
The suited man announced the next auction. A slender teen - making up for his lack of physical strength with pure intellect - sold for over a thousand caps, his buyer being a venerable man interested in acquiring a mental companion rather than a laborer. Taking the stage after him was a frightened young woman and her newborn child. A bidding war erupted between two high rollers and ended with the final price well pass three thousand caps.
Drew whistled as if in awe. "That's a lot of caps."
"A lot of something we don't have," I murmured. "Wish we did. Would make things so much easier."
"Are things ever easy?"
"No, not really."
Time moved slow as the auction continued. Seconds felt like minutes; minutes felt like hours. Person after person was led onstage and sold like livestock at a fair. To some it was an investment that required careful appraisal; to others a sick thrill; for onlookers cheap entertainment. To me it was sickening. Slavery, an abomination of the human condition, thrived in the wasteland where few societies existed to oppose it. Worse still was knowing that there was nothing I could do to help these people other than to wish for them the best.
Some would, if lucky, find happiness in their lives. The slender teen would no doubt fair well alongside the aging man whose heart was as dark as the sun. Others, the unfortunate, would face only a nightmarish hell where death, in lieu of freedom, would be greatly accepted. I could not help but to think of the young mother and child. They would suffer tremendously if only for the fact that insatiable human greed brought no good.
A dumpy looking man who seemed very close to the point of unconsciousness was led offstage to where his buyer awaited. The auctioneer stepped forward to take his place so that he stood at the edge of the sunbaked platform, the megaphone once again raised to his thin lips. His voice roared over the yammering crowd. "The final sale of today is a last minute addition fresh in this morning!" he announced. "Something I'm sure you fine folks will enjoy."
Two children were led onto the splintered stage by a Disciple guard. One was dragged along by the disgruntled man, struggling and yelling as she went while the other walked peacefully where directed.
"That's them!" yelped Cooper, trying and failing to remain composed. I knew that she wanted to cry out in relief, yet I also knew that she was far too proud to allow that of herself. She had created the facade of a strong-willed leader which had, without any reason for me to doubt, kept her and her friends alive in the wasteland, but deep down she still a child at heart. The weight of her world was placed on her shoulders. She was the central pillar.
But cracks were starting to appear.
"Where's Hunter?" she stammered, a subtle panic in her voice.
"Untie me this damn instant!" roared the visibly upset girl, struggling to no avail to free herself from the frayed rope that tightly bound her hands and feet as she was presented before the crowd that would soon be vying for her life.
The second girl shook her head in exasperation. "Will you please stop yelling. It's not doing much other than giving me a headache," she muttered, readjusting her thick-rimmed glasses with a free hand. Unlike her friend violent friend, the bespectacled girl had saw little reason to resist her captors and, as such, had not been restrained.
The taller friend took pause from her death threats to glare down at her friend, her raven colored hair - cut short more for ease than for style - bobbing listlessly with her movement. "Are you okay with this?" she asked harshly, incredulous to her friend's lack of concern.
The bespectacled friend simply shrugged. "What else can we do at this point."
The auctioneer approached the duo and bent down so that he was nearly eye level with the raven haired girl. "Well aren't you an adorable little belligerent." He squeezed her cheek like any grandfather would have done and nearly lost a finger as the girl snapped ferociously at him. He turned to face the crowd, his megaphone raised. "Hostile thing, ain't she folks! Tell you great people what, buy one and I'll throw in the other free of charge! Two for the price of one! So, do we have any takers?"
The bid was immediately met, followed by a second and then a third. A fourth doubled and a fifth took it even higher. The raven haired girl yelled curse after curse at her would be buyers as her friend stood quietly beside her.
Children were prized and often sold high at auction. They were easy to break into servitude, prone to suffering from Stockholm syndrome, and could endure long years of hard work and physical and mental abuse. Of course, some would be bought as if they were nothing more than extravagant toys, to be used and discarded at will.
"Sold!" announced the tweed suited auctioneer vehemently as the final bid was cast. The amount was actually quite modest all things considered, but to those of lower class and income it was astronomical.
"Damn that's a lot of caps," commented Drew. His eyes looked my way. "Any plans yet?"
My mind raced with endless possibilities, many of which never quite seemed to produce a viable solution while a few were little more than flights of fancy. Strategizing ahead of time had never been something that I excelled at. I was more suited to making spur of the moment decisions. Instinct often led my actions, but now I had to account for the others.
Too much was at stake for me to simply rely on my gut.
The buyer, a graying man with a stark look of firm power and control, approached the stage to complete the transaction. Flanking him was a tired Disciple guard, staying back so as not to be an obtrusion but remaining close enough to create a menacing presence.
The caps were taken and the "items" handed over. "Thank you for your purchase, Mr. Culver. Enjoy the little devils," added the suited auctioneer with a smile.
"No. Thank you," replied Culver, his voice crawling from his mouth like a snake.
The two girls were led away by the guard, the taller of the pair shouting violently as she went.
Cooper tugged at her hair, failing to contain her worry as her friends were led away to their fates. Adam placed a hand on her shoulder as a sign of comfort, but the gesture was not enough to calm the girl.
A thought clicked into place. The vague beginnings on an idea whose outcome eluded me. But it was a start, and it was better than doing nothing. "We follow them. Find out where they're going," I told the others in a hushed voice.
"And then what?" questioned Drew.
I shrugged. "One thing at a time."
We pushed through the dispersing crowd, making way for the main avenue that would lead back into the city center. I briefly caught sight of Culver and his bodyguard before being consumed by the mass of people leaving the warehouse district now that the auction was over. I was jostled aside by a mob and nearly trampled by a gaggle of drunk teenagers whose idea of a good time was watching people lose their futures. The masked man moved easily through the crowd, unafraid to push back when pushed himself; Drew had become separated from us; the kids were even further back.
"Do you see them?" I asked the masked man as he planted himself between me and a group of unruly men who were intent on steamrolling anyone in their way. They slowed and, having a second thought, went around us.
The masked man looked over the crowd and shook his head.
"Damn." Crowds had always been a distaste of mine. Though not fond of tight spaces I am not a claustrophobic, but being pressed upon from all sides hindered the very things I had come to rely upon for my survival: my agility, my senses, and of course the option to run like hell if needed. And, in this case, my ability to track someone.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled out to Drew, "We're going ahead! Take the kids and meet us at Chase Tower!"
"Got it!" yelled back Drew. Then, "What the hell is Chase Tower?"
"Probably the really tall building with CHASE on the side," muttered Cooper as she and Adam made their way to where he stood, rolling her eyes.
"Oh. Uh... got it. Got it. Meet you there."
Me and the masked man dove into the crowd, me sliding my way through narrow passages while he forced his way through. Some, not taking too kindly to being pushed aside, turned to gripe but quickly thought better when confronted with the faceless figure.
We broke free from the crowd and rushed down the avenue towards the city center, moving fast but refraining from an all out run. Past experience had taught me that guards often took notice of those who seemed to be in a hurry. Were we just harmless bystanders late for some appointment, or were we miscreants looking to distant ourselves from a damning crime? Already the guards kept watch over foreigners. There was no need to further increase our surveillance.
"There they are," I said softly, slowing my pace. The masked man did the same.
Culver was walking leisurely through the markets, his path cleared as others scrambled to be out of his way. His guard followed behind, the raven haired girl, even more restrained than before, tossed over his shoulder. She struggled to free herself but was bound tight enough to restrict all movement. She had even been gagged so as not to yell into the ear of the guard that carried her. Beside them was the other girl, browsing the wares as she went with some interest. The guard paid little attention to the bespectacled girl - she could have easily slipped away without notice but never did.
"Don't stand to close to me," I told the masked man, who was more likely to attract attention than I was.
The masked man nodded once and stopped at a stand to browse pinkish fruit.
I did the same, stopping often to blend in with the crowd. I was sure that Culver and his guard were unaware that they were being followed, and I was intent to keep it that way. I held up a small toy and examined it before setting it back in place and moving on. I watched Culver. His movements. His gestures. Looking for any sign that would bode ill.
The girl who walked of her own will came to a stop and turned to face the street behind her. Her eyes met mine and I quickly ducked over to a stand to play with the little crafts. The girl watched me for several seconds before rejoining the others.
The masked man stood beside me, half a fruit in his hand. He offered it and I accepted, cringing slightly at the sour juices. Positive that all was good, we continued our stalking.
Culver entered the Circle, the exact center of the city both now and in the past. The tallest of the tallest buildings sat here, facing a brick street that encircled the monument: a massive pillar that stood tall, surrounded by granite soldiers forever on guard and atop which stood Lady Victory, torch in one hand and sword in the other. This was the glory of the city, restored to its former grandeur to be a symbol for the future. A monument to cement the rule of the Disciples.
By coincidence, Culver entered the Chase Tower.
This was where our pursuit ended... for now.
It wasn't long before Drew and the kids found their way to the Circle and spotted us.
"Where are they?" were the first words spoken by Cooper. I told her.
"Then let's go," suggested Drew, stepping towards the tower.
I grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Yeah. That's a good way to get shot. Disciple control that tower. No one gets in unless you're invited in."
"Then what do you suggest we do?" griped Drew, snatching his arm from my grasp.
"I really don't know," I admitted, feeling as if I had let them all down. "I'll think of something. I just need..."
Adam stepped forward. "I have an idea."
Ten minutes later and we were standing outside the tower's main entrance, our gazes turned upwards to a structure that reached for infinity. A sense of awe came over me as I marveled at the building, the very thought of its engineering amazing me. The accomplishments of the past, both small and large, intrigued me to no end.
Drew brought me back into focus. "We ready for this?" He sounded unsure of himself. I was surprised at just how far our of his way that he was going for strangers. Self preservation had always been his main goal. Everything else came second.
I nodded. "If not know then never."
Drew sighed, working up the confidence to do what came next. "Alright. Let's do this."
Leading the way alongside the masked man Drew pushed open the double doors and strode into the building, marching along with a sense of purpose and belonging. I followed next, pushing with me a rusted cart filled with various odds and ends and covered by a ratty tarp. I had abandoned my usual attire - and my gun for that matter - for little more than simple rags.
All a part of the plan.
The lobby had not been restored so as to greet those who stepped through, instead sacrificing extravagance for sheer intimidation. It served as a checkpoint where heavily armed guards screened any and all who sought entrance into the tower, allowing in those with valid reasons to be here and rejecting all others. On the far wall, hung so as to be spotted upon arrival, was a flag as red as blood emblazoned with the Disciple symbol.
We made it five feet into the building before being stopped by a guard. He approached us, making sure to brandish his SMG in a threatening manner. His eyes were completely hidden behind dark glasses. His head shaved bald to combat the heat. Etched into his armor were tally marks whose meaning I could only guess. "This tower is off limits to the public. State your business," said the man coldly, his voice rougher than the coarse desert sands. Several more guards watched, including a sniper that patrolled from the second floor.
Drew took a deep breath and, finding some courage, spoke aloud. "First off, I ain't public. Private contractor and a damn good one at that. Second, my business is here and with one Mr. Culver. So tell me where the old bastard is so I can be on my way."
The guard stepped forward, close enough to wring Drew's neck if wanted. "You're only half right. Your business is here and with me. Now, you have three seconds to get the fuck out of here before I rip your skull from your head and shove it up your ass. One..."
Drew paused for a moment but quickly rebounded. "My man. I am so sorry for my lack of professionalism. A proper introduction is required." He reached out suddenly and vigorously shook the guard's hand. "D.K.: adventurer, philanthropist, and private contractor for hire. And this here is my partner... uh... you know what, his name is not important. What is important are the goods that I have brought here today. Artifacts of the old world painstakingly collected and, as the pièce de résistance, a young companion acquired from a beautiful oasis valley far to the north where the world and horizon meet." A small chuckle and a smile. "Mr. Culver will be quite please if I do say so myself."
All at once I was dragged forward and presented to the guard like a criminal to the judge. Others were now watching as well, intrigued by the performance that Drew was giving. The guard looked down upon me, an unamused scowl on his face.
"Greet the nice man," ordered Drew.
"Yo," I muttered.
I was hit from behind, a stinging pain radiating from the back of my head from where the hand had smacked me. "Do it right," Drew commanded with a genuine smile plastered to his smug face.
A look of death seeped from my gaze and slowly consumed Drew who did his best to not break down in forgiveness so that maybe I would show mercy. But, playing my part, I did as I was told like a good little slave. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said through a forced smile, adding a small curtsy that nearly made me vomit from the indignity.
"The bitch ain't that good," snarled the guard bluntly. Offended - and my feelings hurt - I stepped back to stand beside the cart. The guard turned on Drew. "Mr. Culver has no deliveries today. Now get the fuck out."
Drew was steadily growing more and more nervous, but he persisted. "True. Mr. Culver is not expecting any of this. Why? Because it's a surprise! Special delivery for his... um... birthday! Yeah, his birthday."
The guard raised his SMG and placed the barrel to Drew's temple. Others approached now, weapons ready. "It ain't his birthday," the guard growled, his finger looped around the trigger.
Drew was starting to panic. "He told me it was his birthday. Look, I'm just as confused as you are if not more."
"Who told you?"
Drew stammered. "Uh... uh... Francis?"
The guard stared into Drew from behind his dark lenses, as if examining his very being. Then, without warning, he broke out into laughter, leaving Drew (and me) dumbfounded. Some other guards joined in as well, and Drew added his own never chuckle. "Francis! That fucked up bastard. Just like him to do this. Alright. Alright. Go on. Floor 37, Room 4." Another round of laughter. "Culver is gonna be so pissed."
It took Drew a second to realize what was happening before he nodded. He stepped passed the guards and led us deeper into the lobby.
The guard grabbed onto the masked man's shoulder. "You. No guns. Hand it over."
The masked man showed no intention of handing over his rifle. The guard, braver than most, stood firm. Drew put himself between the two before things had a chance to get out of hand. "Look. My partner is a bit on the sentimental side. Rifle belonged to his father. His dead father. Goes everywhere he goes."
"Then he's not going anywhere," stated the guard coldly.
"He also busted his ass pulling this all together. He's gonna make sure that the jobs gets done."
"Then tell him to give me the gun." The guard made it clear that "no" was not an answer.
Drew clapped his hands together. "Better idea." He scurried over to the cart and dug around inside, careful not to disturb the tarp more than he had to. He found an old box and handed it over to the guard. "We give you that and go on our way. Everyone's happy. Deal?"
The guard stared down at the small box, through a small plastic window that displayed its contents. "It's a damn doll."
"Yes. But, this particular child's toy is a rare, limited edition collector's item. Still in the original package. To the right buyer this thing is worth hundreds of thousands of caps. And I'm giving it to you. Our secret." Drew raised a finger to his lips.
The guard thought it over. "What gun?"
Drew smiled. "Have fun with your fortune."
We boarded an elevated and headed up to the 37th floor. I looked over to Drew, the cart between me and him. "You know I'm shooting you after this."
"Worth it," said Drew without a single care.
"Was that doll really worth anything?"
"Not a damn dime."
A small bell chimed and the doors slid apart, allowing us to cross over to the sparsely populated landing. A few patrolling guards looked our way but said nothing. We had already made it passed the checkpoint so they felt no need to question our intentions. We found the correct hall and soon stood outside door number 4.
"Do it," I told Drew. He took a breath and knocked loudly on the wooden door.
We waited a few seconds and were about to knock again when a small peephole opened about eye level. The tired guard looked out into the hallway and studied us, speaking in a gruff voice. "Mr. Culver is not expecting any guest today."
"We have a special delivery from Francis," Drew told the guard.
"Francis?" The guard paused for a moment. "Wait here."
The little door closed and we were left standing for several minutes. Finally the locks turned and the opened. The guard motioned us inside. Drew went first and then the masked man. I followed, pushing the cart along.
The former offices of the tower had been torn out and converted into apartments, many of which were owned by the Disciple leadership. The rest housed those who had proven themselves in one way or another. It was hard to tell exactly what position in society that the man named Culver held, but given his entourage of guards he was close in some way to the Disciples.
This unit, the home of Culver, was occupied by a myriad of collections ranging from the heads and skulls of fearsome beasts to finer antiquities collected from the dead world. Despite the clutter the floor remained open with the furnishings arranged so that they faced the center of the main room. A bookshelf filled with dozens of old books sat in the corner. On the opposite wall was a small end table and a radio.
Currently the Ink Spots filled the otherwise stale air.
Culver stood in the doorway that separated the main room from the small kitchen. He had changed into something more casual but still kept an air of superiority about him, as if he (and he was) the master of this domain. Yet the most noticeable trait about him was his eyes: sharp and colder than any desert night. He was a man who cared only for himself. All others were expendable.
To the right of Culver was a hallway leading deeper into the apartment. On his left stood a guard out of armor. Strapped to this man's side was a pistol. Behind us was the tired guard, still in armor though his weapon was nowhere to be seen.
"Francis always knew how to irk me. Always the joker," stated Culver, stepping into the main room. He paused to examine the head of a deathclaw mounted on the wall, and then turned to face the guard nearest him. "Remind me to return the favor."
The guard nodded.
Culver turned to face us. "Now, what do we have here?"
Drew cleared his throat and went into his act. "D.K.: adventurer, philanthropist, and private contractor for hire. This here is my partner, and this," he motioned to me and the cart, "is what Francis hired us to collect. An assortment of rare items and, to top it off, a lovely specimen from the far reaches of the north."
Culver's interest was peaked. "Another servant? Well, I am in need for a maid. At least until the others are capable of such tasks." He glanced over to the cart, a serpentine smile on his face. "Francis is an odd one. Always making a mockery of his father's work. And now, to offer gifts. To be brutally honest, I expected some sort of elaborate prank. But rarities you say?"
"The rarest of the rare," smiled Drew. "If ya would be so kind as to show Mr. Culver."
I nodded and reached into the cart, sliding my arm under the ratty cover. A small hand placed the .44 magnum in my grasp, and my finger looped through the trigger guard. My eyes shifted first to Culver and then to the masked man.
There was a small, almost undetectable nod.
My thumb found the hammer, a click as it was drawn back.
A heartbeat. That was all the time it took.
A look of surprise came to Culver's face as the bullet tore into his chest. He choked on his words and stumbled back, landing under the gaze of the deathclaw. The nearest guard reached for his weapon but a second shot pierced his throat, painting the wall behind him a deep scarlet as he crumbled to the floor.
The masked man slammed an elbow into the gut of the final guard. The man doubled over and was swung around so that the faceless man stood over him. A gloved hand gripped just under his chin and jerked his head back so that the vertebrae of his neck separated with a sickening crack. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Adam and Cooper burst free from the confines of the cart, nearly tripping before catching themselves and running off to find their friends. The masked man turned his attention to the door, barricading it with the sofa as guards rushed down the hall, their hurried footsteps echoing dully through the thin walls of the apartment. Drew confiscated the deceased guard's handgun, as well as pocketing some valuables for himself.
I stood over Culver. His eyes stared into my own. He tried to speak, but his breath was labored. Blood stained his shirt around the wound. The surprise gone from his face, replaced now with anger. The deep fury of a man accustomed to being on top. He could not speak, but his eyes said it all. I will kill you.
I raised my revolver. "Francis didn't send us," I told the dying man. His eyes revealed to me that he already knew this much. I fired once more into his chest. His breathing came to a stop; his cold eyes dulled.
There was yelling outside the door followed by several loud thuds as someone banged a fist against the painted wood. When no one responded the men outside resorted to breaking in the door. The sofa, and the added weight of the masked man, held them at bay. The man looked my way and nodded. He could handle this.
I stepped over the dead man's body and rushed down the hall. It led into another, far larger room, cluttered even more with various kinds of trinkets. Watching me from the corner was a stuffed yao guai, its maw open and its claws ready to strike. Beside it, sealed inside a glass case, a battered set of Chinese stealth armor. Above me hung a crystal chandelier, swaying slightly in the stale air as the Ink Spots continued to sing their hearts out.
The apartment was far larger than I had expected it to be. I stood amongst the collection, wondering exactly where to go next. Several doors lined this room, and another hallway branched off deeper into the makeshift museum. Peering down it I spotted Adam and Cooper standing outside a locked door, shouting to whoever was on the other side.
I ran into the hallway after them.
A door swung open further down as another guard poked his head into the hall. I didn't hesitate and opened fire. The wooden door frame splintered as the round sped pass the man, missing him by inches as he ducked back into safety. The two kids, having failed to notice both me and the guard, screamed in terror and ducked down.
"Stay down!" I yelled.
Gunfire tore through the hallway as the guard fired blindly around the corner. I dove to the floor, the SMG rounds searing the air above me. Adam and Cooper pressed themselves as far down as possible, holding onto one another for dear life.
The shooting ceased as the man emptied his magazine, every round wasted in a reckless attempt to kill us. The armor case fell to pieces, its glass having been shattered by the wild flurry of gunfire. The yao guai stood in tatters, its arm hanging by a stubborn thread. I remained prone of the wooden floor, my magnum raised and ready. Beside me, the two kids dared not to even breathe. The air was overtaken by a stillness with the only sound being the radio in the other room.
The guard poked around the corner, checking to see if we were dead. He saw me sprawled out on the floor but it was too late. I fired. The spent SMG dropped into the hall as the man fell into the room. My revolver chambered its final round as I waited for the man to reappear. He never did.
"It's okay. It's okay," comforted Adam, still in shock himself. Cooper, with some effort, managed to calm herself and stood with the aid of the boy. I picked myself up off the floor and joined them at the door.
"What the hell is happening out there?!" came a muted voice from beyond the door.
"Everything's fine," assured Cooper. She took the golden doorknob in her small hands and twisted it as far as it would go, pressing her weight against the oak door. Adam joined her, yet still the door refused to budge. She looked my way and stated the obvious, "It's locked."
"Of course it's fucking locked!" yelled the trapped girl.
I pushed the two aside and told the girl behind the door to stand back. I gave her a moment to do so and raised my weapon, firing point blank into the deadlock and blasting it to pieces. A swift kick sent the door flailing open.
Cooper was the first into the room. I followed after Adam in time to witness the raven haired girl, despite her numerous protests, being caught in a firm embrace for which she could not pry free from. A stray tear formed in the corner of Cooper's eye, flowing down her cheek before being wiped away.
No longer bound by rope the girl was able to push Cooper away. "Get off of me!"
"As cheerful as always," commented Adam.
"You're okay," breathed Cooper in relief, toying with her friend's dark mess of hair.
"Of course I'm okay," Alex stated. "What took you so long?"
Gunfire sounded from the main room before anyone could answer: a fierce burst of automatic fire. There was a pause before several more shots rang out.
"Time to go," I told them, regretting that I had not hid spare ammunition on my person as I emptied my revolver of spent casings.
"Just a moment," requested the bespectacled girl from where she stood on the far side of the room. Her eyes browsed the overflowing shelves of a bookcase that was easily twice her height, taking her time to scan each book before reaching out to retrieve one. She glanced through it, returned it, and selected another.
"What the hell, Jessica!" yelled Alex. "What part of 'time to go' didn't you understand?"
The girl chose a thick book whose dusty cover had been worn thin. "It's so difficult to find books in the desert. They've all been scorched and ripped apart, treated as nothing more than toilet paper by ignorant buffoons." She sighed. "I wish I could take them all. Could you possibly carry some for me?"
Alex's sharp tongued reply was drowned out by a fresh round of gunfire. Hurried footsteps rushed down the hall and Drew sped pass the open door, sliding to a stop somewhere further down before returning to join us. The masked man came soon after, falling into the room as gunfire tore after him.
"Can't go that way," stated Drew, his recently acquired handgun shaking in his hands. "Shit. Those bastards tried to shoot me!"
"That's what they get paid to do," I quipped, rushing to aid the masked man. Together we pushed a heavy wooden dresser up against the door, creating a makeshift barricade to hold back the armed men. The guards tried to kick their way inside but were held at bay by the dresser's weight. They next resorted to shooting through the door.
"What now?!" screamed Cooper, pressing her small body into a corner. Adam was splayed out on the floor, his hands over his head. Alex lay near him, her shouts inaudible against the roar of gunfire. Jessica stood where she was, still uncertain as to which book to take with her.
The masked man reached into his coat and handed me several .44 rounds. I took them and loaded my revolver, snapping the cylinder shut once all six chambers had been filled. I pulled back the hammer with my thumb and pocketed the remaining rounds.
The gunfire sputtered to a halt and the men tried once again to kick down the door. It held firm, buckling slightly in the center yet refusing to open despite the abuse the door had just withstood.
"Exit strategy?" I asked the man. He shook his head. There was little doubt that he never planned too far ahead, preferring to tackle the situation as it changed in real time and not forethought. "Think we can take them?" The man shrugged.
There was a shout outside the door. I zeroed in on where I thought the voice came from and fired three rounds into the thick wood. The first buried itself in the door. The other two passed clean through. The guards scrambled to safety as a scream of agony filled the air. A thud as the injured man fell to the floor. Several more shouts made it clear that these men were unwilling to approach their fallen comrade in fear of another miraculous attack.
"I may have bought us some time," I said to myself as I reloaded the empty chambers.
There was a scramble behind me as Drew ran for the large bed that occupied a good portion of the room. I paid him no mind as I readied myself to fire upon the next guard who dared to approach the door. Then he called out, claiming to have a plan as to how to escape the tower. He had tied together several bed sheets and know searched for a way to unlatch the large window that overlooked the city, unaware that these windows were not designed to open.
"Are you insane?" barked Alex, piecing together Drew's plan.
"Do you know how high we are?" I asked, not expecting an answer. "I'd much rather take my chances with the guards."
"Trust me," assured Drew, still fumbling with the window. "We scale down to the floor below and get out from there. Gun happy bastards won't be expecting that."
I had to agree with him on this point. Who would plan ahead for a daring escape such as this? Dangling thirty stories in the air with nothing between life and certain death except for some old guy's bedsheets. It was suicidal at best, but it was the only plan so far.
I sighed. "Don't see much choice."
The masked man nodded in agreement. It wouldn't surprise me if he had done this before.
"You guys are crazy!" accused Alex.
"Afraid of heights?" teased Cooper from her corner.
"I am," added Adam lowly.
The guards were moving outside the door. I hurried over to the window. As expected it wasn't about to open any time soon. I took Drew's handgun and fired into the glass. It was thick and took several rounds before cracking. The sixth shot pierced through completely. The seventh shattered the window. I traded the gun for the bedsheets and proceeded to tie them to the heavy bed near the window. I wasn't about to let Drew tie the knot and fall to my death.
The guards, hearing the gunfire, began shooting. The door absorbed most of the rounds but it was weakening by the second. I stayed low and finished the knot, making sure that it was as tight as it could be before tossing the loose end out the window. The bedsheets dangled down further than I thought, reaching almost three stories down.
"Let's go!" I yelled over the roar. I emptied my revolver, what few bullets remaining in the chamber passing through the door and into the hallway. The gunfire died down a bit as several guards no doubt jumped for cover. A few of the braver ones stood their grounds and continued to pump round after round into the door and wall.
Cooper was the first out the window, sliding down the rope like a fireman's pole. Adam followed after her. Alex went next despite not wanting to at all. Then came Jessica who seemed more concerned about her books, making sure that the one she was taking was secured inside her shirt as best it could.
Drew lifted himself through the window. "Try not to fall," he said with a grin and disappeared.
"Asshole," I muttered, reloading my gun. The door was falling apart. The guards would be inside any moment. "You go next. I'll shoot anyone that comes in."
The masked man shook his head, reaching inside his satchel. He retrieved a flat metal disk and laid it flat near the door. A LED light came to life atop it. The door shook violently. The man looked over to the window and nodded.
We ran for it. The door flew open, falling off of its hinges. The guards sped in, firing as the entered. I grabbed the linen rope as I dove through the window, sliding down far too fast and nearly knocking the others from where they hung. The masked man was right behind me. There was a beep and then an explosion as the mine went off.
There was silence save for the groans of pain from those who had survived the blast. My knot held tightly, keeping us suspended high in the air, our bodies pressed against the side of the building with no way back inside.
After a pause Cooper spoke. "What now? We hang out?"
"Not funny," growled Alex.
I peered through the window that we were pressed against. There was a long hallway on the other side. It was clear save for two guards who quickly spotted us and rushed towards the window, guns raised.
"Fuck this," I muttered, pressing my revolver against the pane of glass. I fired, shredding the glass in two shots and falling inside with the others. The guards panicked and aimed to fire. I was faster, downing one as I rolled along the floor. The other had his weapon seized by the masked man before being tossed out the window.
We ran down the hall towards the nearest stairwell. I ran through the door and was nearly shot by ascending guards. I returned fire but was soon outmatched.
"The elevator!" exclaimed Cooper as we ran down the hall. She pressed the DOWN button what could have been hundreds of times before finally accepting that the elevator would not move any faster.
The masked man tapped Drew on the shoulder and approached the sealed doors. He forced them apart enough to slide his gloved fingers through so that he could pry the door open. Drew got the message and aided him, and together they got the door open. There was a service ladder directly across the deep shaft.
I led the way, leaping across to the ladder. It was easy enough. I grabbed onto the rungs and began the climb down. The masked man helped the kids across and then Drew. The masked man brought up the rear.
The elevator rose up beneath us. I pushed off from the ladder and landed atop the moving car. The others followed suit and we rose back to the floor we had just left before stopping. I could hear the guards in the hall. A few took the elevator down, unaware that we were just feet above them.
Nearing the ground floor we were able to make our way into a service area. No guards bothered to patrol these halls. Moving fast we were able to find an exit. Keeping low, we left the city.
In Loving Memory of Mom