Warlock of Omaha

By Hemaccabe

Chapter 17 Don't Forsake Me

I called a war council.

I had kept Tamar with me in the garret all night. I brought her down to the dining room the next day. Tamar wore a silk kimono which was much more modest on her than it had been on Brenda.

The girls were surprised but seemed happy. Introductions were made. Tamar actually managed to eat a bit.

"Tamar will be joining us for a bit. She'll be staying in the suite next to Miranda for now. Diane, maybe you can loan her something to wear? Miranda, please take her shopping and get her some clothes and basics. Tamar comes to us with no possessions. Tamar, otherwise, please stay here at the house."

There was nodding all around, so I knew I'd been heard.

I called Jake and Travis. I told them Tamar was awake and they should come to the house ready for a trip and a rumble.

I used the time it took them to come over to pull my gear together and load the truck. I was loading for bear.

When they got to the house, I explained, "Cassie is awake. Her real name is Tamar. She, like Travis, was a servant of our adversary. She has given us a general location for him, it's the best she has. I believe our best option is to track him to his lair and deal with him there once and for all."

They were nodding in grim agreement.

"From what you said before, he might kill us there?" Travis asked.

"Or worse," I answered. "But I believe this is our best chance."

"What about Tamar?" Jake asked. The way he said "Tamar" was awkward, like he had to consciously change the name in his head from "Cassie."

"She will be staying here." I answered.

"What if she's lying to us?" Travis asked.

"That's a very real possibility." I answered, "There are no certainties here. This is what I think the best course of action is. However, this is not a military unit. I am not the master, you are not the slaves. If you disagree, tell me. If you have a better course of action, please say it. That said, we're not getting much stronger just sitting here, but he's building a new army of hell only knows what. If we wait here, it will hit us like an avalanche. He almost had us at the cabin. We've been trying our luck for some time. The next time will probably be the last. We can run, but I doubt there's anywhere we can go that he can't find us, and when he does, we'll be out in the open like rabbits. We can sit still, dig in our defenses as hard as they can get, and die where we stand. Or we can go. We could be walking into trap. Or we could catch this thing unawares and his defenses may still be so strong that we break on them. But I think that's the best option. Our best chance. What do you two say?"

I looked at them. They didn't look happy, but they nodded their agreement. I noticed Jake was wearing his motorcycle jacket and Travis was wearing his car coat. Travis had his Five Seven in an appendix carry under his coat on his left side. The knife I made him was hanging on his right hip. Apparently, Travis had made himself a nice leather sheath for the knife. They were both wearing their boots.

We loaded up. Travis put his rifles next to Baby in the gun rack. He kept the P-90 in the truck. Jake kept his bat close to hand. I drove us to the Costco, and we filled up. Then I had Travis drive and we ran by the small Mexican place nearby and bought about ten pounds of burritos and giant sodas before we jumped the nearby on ramp for I-680 and headed to Denver.

It doesn't take complicated navigation to get from Omaha to Denver. Basically, head west on I-80 for five hundred miles. There's a spot where one has to get on I-76, but this is hardly brain surgery. We didn't go with crazy urgency. Every few hours we'd stop, fuel up, empty our ballast tanks and reload with more food. We still made good time since one can blast down the highway at a reasonable eighty miles per hour. We checked into a nice business hotel near the east side of Denver and got a good night's sleep. We woke up, showered, dressed, ate in their nice, overpriced café and proceeded.

We drove to a random intersection in east Denver, 47th and Havana. We parked at a gas station on the corner, topped off and looked around. I used my sight to see if there was any trace of magic. Jake used his superhuman, bloodhound like sense of smell and Travis did whatever it was he did.

I saw nothing. Jake came up empty. Travis pointed north east and said, "Let's try that way."

We followed Travis like this for twelve hours. Jake drove. Travis sat in the passenger seat and directed. I mapped in the back. We stopped a couple times for food and breaks but, over the course of the day, became exhausted. I have no idea what Travis was following, but he was a Hunter. I could see his auras lighting up as he searched. Ha was his quarry now and some magic instinct was driving him to the beast's lair. Travis wasn't perfect. We did some big loops, but we were clearly making progress.

With the team exhausted, I suggested, "I think we should pack it in for the night."

Everyone agreed and we returned to the hotel.

The next day we drove back to where we left off and began again. We continued slowly working north east. There were fewer breaks, and we kept going. After twelve hours we were exhausted again, but at our last stop Jake lifted his head and said, "I think I smelled something."

It hardly meant we had cornered the beast in it's lair, but I think we all felt we were making progress. We went back to our hotel. We didn't speak, but we were all thinking the next day would be decisive, our war with Ha would be done. One way or the other.

We started again the third day where we had left off the night before. Jake couldn't smell the scent again. We continued. By midday, Jake could smell it again. At nightfall we came to a place called "North Mountain Waste Disposal and Recycling," just east of Stapleton airport. I could tell there had been serious magic done at the place and both Jake and I could smell Ha's telltale scent.

Travis said, "He's in there."

It was late, after eleven and we were exhausted.

"I recommend that we wait and come back the tomorrow." I suggested.

They both nodded and we got back in the truck.

We arrived just before nine the next morning and the place was deserted. I had been thinking of how we might storm the place in the face of human security and was wondering if we should have waited to till two-three am and gone the night before, but there was no one there. We walked to the front entrance. The front door was locked. There was a security system, but it wasn't active. Travis took about a minute getting us through the door and we were in.

I haven't spent much of my life in large industrial waste recycling facilities, but it was what I imagined they looked like. Modern, industrial, efficient, smelly. In the south east corner of the facility we opened the door to a large open area. There was compost, leaves and mud. A big pond-like space in the middle. A lot of pots, many human sized, lying about that had apparently been filled with pale mud recently. Everything one might expect in Ha's lair, except Ha.

"If he's not here…" Jake began to ask.

"Then he must be…" I never finished. I was too busy running back to the truck.

We got in the truck and ran.

While driving, Jake managed to send a pre-arranged code to Kelly which basically said, "Drop everything, go get Michael, get on an Interstate and keep going. You can buy food, clothes and basics in another state."

Jake later got a signal from Kelly that she had Michael and was moving. Which was good.

What was not good was I could not raise Brenda, Diane or Miranda. Great.

We stopped briefly for fuel twice on the way. We went at least a hundred the whole way.

We got jumped by a speed trap near North Platte.

"Lower the rear window and stay on it." I said.

It wasn't like I couldn't afford the ticket and the bump in my insurance rates, but right now, I just could not afford the time. I didn't like what I was about to do, but I knew it was necessary.

I took out my axe, pointed it at the police cruiser, I could feel the engine management computer. A quick squeeze and every electronic system in their car failed. They had to pull over with smoke coming from under the hood. Without cell phones and radios, they wouldn't even be able to call for help, much less be able to call someone else to annoy us.

We were at my front door in less than five hours.

We stopped the truck just within the gate. Travis grabbed the P-90 and Jake grabbed his bat. I was racing around to the Rambox to get Baby when I saw they had already run in hell for leather immediately.

You'd think in five hours we might have discussed some strategy. You'd be wrong. Jake doesn't think in strategic terms. Travis doesn't talk. All I could do was worry.

I realized I was behind, so I decided to forget about Baby and run in too. Genius.

I got to the herb garden behind the kitchen. There were a bunch of MiBs, who shined like old fashioned wooden toy soldiers in the afternoon sun. I'm not sure what happened to Jake and Travis before I got there, except now they were both securely held by a pair of MiBs each. I casually noticed both the P-90 and the bat lying on the ground. Tamar, Brenda, Miranda and Diane were also there, each held by their own pair.

In the middle was Ha. He was over nine feet tall, and that was with legs that were bowed and folded like a frog. He was some awkward, ugly mix of frog and alligator, favoring the frog, but with a long snout of teeth and lots of spiky ridges scattered about his leathery skin. Still, he was somewhat anthropomorphic as well with froggy arms. He also had a boney ridge like a crown at the top of his very well postured head. I could see Travis being held behind Ha on his left.

I figured out Ha's trap just as it sprung. It was simple and elegant. One would be moving toward Ha, quite reasonably focused on him, and two MiBs would walk up from behind and take one's arms.

I shot both his MiBs, they each got two in the chest and then, before they could fall, two in the face. I have to say, there was something very cathartic in shooting them.

I whipped around and fired a handful of rounds at Ha. Ha's right fist was closed and seemed to be directing his magic. I could see his magic as a stomach-turning wave of smoke that was made of translucent shadow, my bullets bounced off and with a quick shrug my pistol was yanked from my hand and flung to the side.

Of course, that wasn't my real plan anyway.

While Ha was flinging my gun away, I had gotten in close. With both hands on my new, much more powerful hatchet, I swung hard into Ha's shield. It hit Ha hard and I could feel his concentration coming hard to focus on stopping me. Our contest was only for a split second, but in that second, our magic mixed and I could see into Ha and he could see into me. It was a very intimate and honest exchange in a strange sort of way. Of course, I used that time to study Ha. Ha seemed more interested in what he would eat later.

I could see that Ha was what the Japanese call a "Kappa."

He had lived in a small tributary river at the west edge of the Kanto plain for untold years, at least centuries, maybe millennia, maybe more. Ha couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in that river. It had been a good life. His river was home and happy and safety. He would get hungry sometimes and there was more than adequate food in the river to feed him. He preferred human and there were plenty of human farmers who would come to the river. His favorite food was little girl, very tender, wonderful flavor. Truly, he didn't even know his own name and he liked it that way. If he didn't know his own name, no one would.

Ha would have stayed in his river until the end of time. Except the stinking humans filled it in to make a bypass. Suddenly, he was homeless. He could go to another river, but that river would already have a Kappa in it, and they were very territorial. The Kappa already there would have a commanding advantage. Ha found himself living in tidal marshes and the ocean in execrable salt water that was unhealthy and made his skin itch and rot. He was constantly afraid of fish predators, magical predators and human toxic chemicals. And the food was bad.

Then the White Man had come to him. He represented interested parties who had, like him, lived on the land but had been driven under the sea. They were looking for talent. They could take him someplace much more comfortable and with better food. They didn't promise safe. Ha often thought about how they had never promised safe. The White Man had brought him to what the human's called East Denver and set him up in the composting facility. He had shown Ha how to do the mud trick. One could make anything out of the mud, the limiting factors were raw materials and magic. The raw materials were obviously mud and compost, but also people. The stronger the magic of the people, the stronger and bigger the construct could be. Also, the stronger the person going in, the longer they would last. Once they went in, they would eventually die as the body inside suffered from lack of all things, including the ability to eat, drink and void. For humans without talent, or with only very minor talent, it wasn't worth trying to get them back out of the mud. They were disposable. A human with stronger talent, like Tamar, could be brought back out of the mud and nourished back to life, his own blood could provide remarkable nourishment, then used again. White Man had given him Tamar and some other very minor talents to get started. Ha would have to collect more. White man had directed him to Jake, Travis and me. We would make excellent subjects for the mud. Of course, to make the process work, the one doing it had to have potent magical talent, the talent Ha had been recruited for.

Ha's problem was me. He kept trying to get me and not only would he not get me, he'd lose one of the others. If the White Man found out, and he was coming to check soon, it could be very bad for Ha. I'd probably only just missed White Man in Denver. Ha would be in big trouble if White Man found out that rather than adding new assets, Ha had been losing. White Man had told Ha that if he could not lead, they always needed foot soldiers. Ha knew those foot soldiers would not be expected to last long. Ha didn't want to go in the mud, so he had made soldiers of his last bunch of humans, some with very minor talent and some with none and came here. Ha was sure he could defeat me in person.

In fact, Ha probably could. My axe swing had everything I had behind it and in the split second of contact, I knew it would fail. Ha was just stronger. It was close, but he was. But that wasn't my plan.

I hadn't used this trick since I was a kid, but I needed it now. I reached out to the long hunter's knife still hanging on Travis' right side and pulled it to me. Pulled it with all the force I could muster, which was much more than I could as kid. The knife whipped out of Travis' holster, flew through the air and imbedded itself to the hilt in Ha's back. Ha screamed.

If you've never heard a Kappa scream in agony, well, you're probably better off. It's loud and very unpleasant.

While Ha screamed, I dropped my axe and leapt to his head. I got a good grip on that boney ridge and yanked forward. Ha's head tipped ninety degrees forward and a bucket of ice-cold water splashed out of what was not a crown, but a huge bowl, onto me. I could feel the strength pour out of Ha, but he grabbed me, and I could tell he still had the strength to rip me apart with his bare hands and I was out of options.

Then my axe came down on Ha's neck. Once, twice, three times and the head I was still holding was no longer attached to a body. That was all for Ha. He was good and dead.

With Ha down all the MiBs collapsed too. I saw it had been Tamar that had used my axe to chop off his head.

She would later explain, "I had not been resisting. I assumed you would fail, and he would take us all back to Denver and put us in the mud. I was trying to convince him I had been loyal. When you spilled the water in his head bowl, I knew he would weaken and in that moment the guard's concentration and strength would be weakened. If I had been fighting for all I was worth as everyone else had been, it would have been meaningless, they would have still been able to hold me. But because I wasn't struggling, it caught them by surprise when I did yank free and go for the axe."

Can't argue with that.

At that moment we got hoses and started trying to get the people out of their mud tombs. There had been fourteen MiBs. Two I had done for. They were very real dead. I felt bad about that, they were innocents inside, but if I had let them take me, we'd all be dead or worse. Ha was planning to let them die in the mud and they would have been gone in couple weeks at the outside anyway.

Of the remaining twelve, six died in my herb garden. The other six were in bad shape. Jake had sent a code to Kelly that said, "All clear you can come back now," but she wouldn't be back till the next day.

We looked around. Ha had arrived in a big RV. Miranda had thought it was the RV I had ordered and had kindly let him onto the grounds. There was a lot of space inside the RV and what I'm guessing was a really big, Ha-friendly tub in the rear. We loaded all the people dead and alive back in the RV. Drove it to a nearby back alley of a mall. I found an IPad that was part of the music system and wrote a long manifesto, while wearing gloves, about how the people in the RV believed the Star Angels would come and get them if they went to Omaha and committed suicide together.

Then we left and I bounced an anonymous call over half the western world to the Omaha Nine-one-one operator to tell them about a strange RV with dead people in it.

I was watching from a roof about a mile away when a police car came and checked the RV. I agonized each second as the policeman knocked and waited for a response and finally, after several precious minutes forced his way in. Minutes later more police cars, ambulances and some fire trucks showed up. The people were taken out and taken away in ambulances.

Omaha has excellent medical care available. Unfortunately, one of the six survivors still died. Of the five who survived, three were just strong men who worked at the composting facility. The remaining two, a man and woman, had very minor talents. The man would always lose at rock, paper, scissors. The woman knew if you were wearing clean underwear.

It was a big story. A suicide cult. Seven people dead. But in the news of the day, it was drowned out by stories of war and economic dislocation. Mostly what killed the story was there was no real follow-up. The seven were dead and the others were being looked after.

We went home. Travis, Jake and I started digging in the herb garden with shovels. It turned out I owned a Bobcat which Diane brought around and then we were able to dig a hole much more quickly. Ha and the two people I shot went in. I had explained on the iPad that two others had committed suicide on the way and had been left in heavily wooded spots along the way. That was the best I could do for their families. I took fingerprints and very carefully ran them, neither came up. Their identities might have been findable had they been found in the RV, but gunshot wounds would have been too much, and the needs of the living outweighed the needs of the dead. The herb garden took some replanting, but it always grew much better after that.

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