Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (20 page)

In the melee of flying fists and furniture, Zeika scanned the crowd, looking for the Koan with Manja's bag. He was facing off with another Civilian teen and winning, about to stomp the civvie's face in. Zeika sprinted and tackled him at his midsection, and as they rolled across the ground, she punched, kicked, and slammed her knee into his body. Clearly taken by surprise, all the ghost could do was try to cover his face as she wailed on him. The effort proved useless. His mask shattered into pieces under her assault, jagged porcelain clinging to his face like a second skin.

"Where is it?!" Zeika screamed. She punched him again, feeling the skin of her knuckles slough off on his mask and not caring. She slammed him down onto his back by his neck and cocked back a fist. "Where is her medicine?!"

Another ghost grabbed her hair from behind. He wrenched her off his comrade, putting her into a headlock. Twisting, she slammed her elbow into her captor's gut, but he was stocky, and her blow met him with little effect. He hooked his arm into hers and jammed it back, stopping the onslaught. Pain shot through her arm, and she could feel her throat close as her captor clamped down on her neck.
 

The ghost she had been beating up crawled to his feet, his eyes burning. The broken mask clung to his bloodied, swollen cheeks like plates of dry earth.
 

"Lift her chin," he snarled to his partner, wiping the blood from his face. "Civilian or not, I'm gonna cut her ear to ear." He pulled his field knife from his shoulder holster.

BAM!
The shot from the .47 went off, high and whining in the air. The group of rebels froze, and so did the citizens of Lot 3, the brawl stopped by the song of the only working gun on the lot. Dazed, Zeika looked at the scene, a living fresco of war. Civilians held the insurgents at bay, brandishing all types of clubs, rolling pins, or portable furniture, holding them tensely in case someone moved. The ghost who had Zeika in the chokehold froze as well, but his arm remained locked around her throat.

"Get off our lot you thieving bastards!" Baba snarled, aiming the gun at the group. "And leave the girl lie!"

Zeika felt herself thrown to the ground, and she heard her attacker back up slowly. She scrambled to her feet and whipped around, just in time to see the leader, who was bruised and knotted up, nodding at his men. Koans pulled themselves from under the crowd, and one by one, they dispersed, many of them limping away or leaning on a comrade. Seething, the leader backed off too, but as he did, he turned, allowing the venom from his gaze to seep into Zeika.

"You got lucky this time," he said to her. "
All
of you. But we'll be back, and if you think the Civic or Alchemic Orders are going to swoop in and save you, you've got another think coming. This is Koan turf now. Just ask the
other
eight lots." Below the glint of his eyes, the lips of the mask curled into a snowy smile. Then, he ran off after his men. In the next second, they all disappeared into the shadows as quietly as they had come.
 

Baba walked up to her and pulled her up from the ground. "That Majkata's doin' you pretty good, unh?"

"Yeah, but Koa might have done me harder had you not come," she said, smiling, nursing her bloody lip. "Thanks."

Baba forced a smile. He had a few scratches on him too, but nothing too serious. Men tended to bounce off his tank-like body. She had no doubt that he had bounced more than a few Koans tonight before going for the gun.

"Your Pa's not liking that dirty mouth you've picked up, chicken." Baba smiled. "But you're welcome nonetheless. Now take your tail inside and give Manja a snuggle. She's scared stiff."

"Manja!" She felt herself stiffen. "She's okay?"

Baba nodded. "She was in the crowd, but when the brawl started, your mother snatched her up and ran."

Zeika nodded, relief filling her. Then, her shoulders slumped, and she was fighting tears of frustration. "They took it, Baba. Our savings and Manja's medicine."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and smiling, he reached in his back pocket, pulling out the hard case. "This fell out of that ghost's pocket as he was having it out with the Smith kid. I knew it could only be one thing, so I snatched it. The bastard made off with her little bag though..."

"Oh Baba!" Zeika grabbed him around the mid-section in a hug.
 

He handed Manja's medicine case back to her. "Now go check on them. I'll finish things out here."

Smiling, Zeika nodded and turned to go in. That was, until she could see a blue and white light flashing in the distance. It headed towards them, its shine speckling the thick moist air, like a raincloud rolling over the horizon. Her eyes widened, and she exchanged looks with Baba, who looked as shocked as she felt. None of them, in their 15 years of living in the Fifth, had seen such a sight.

It was a Demesne Five policeman.

The Canopy had snuffed out all heavenly night lights with an electric black, and as Caleb's police lights washed over the quiet lot, he wondered if he was in the right place. From what he could see, the lot's electricity had been cut as reported, but the residents looked relatively in tact. They ambled around listlessly, carrying small tea-light candles, and while he was glad people were still alive, he decided to save the sigh of relief for later. He had never seen so many that looked like walking dead.

He'd gotten the distress call at the desk-- rather, the precinct had, and he had just happened to be walking by the empty dispatch booth, where Loka Torv and her team were
supposed
to be sitting. He didn't know what the hell the police secretary and dispatches did all day, but it certainly wasn't cop work. They had routed all dispatch to a silent line, and calls had been backed up the goddamned wazoo.
 

From Lot 36, Lot 14, Lot 3... How long had the phones been turned off?

Caleb was still trying to shake them off, the sounds of bullet ricochet, the screams of terror that had been coming through the airwaves as he picked up each call and dispatched units. Civilians had been begging for police assistance, pleading for the lives of their children-- until they were all cut off at once, all the sounds muted, all the blinking lights on the switchboard extinguished, leaving nothing but dead silence. It didn't take an Einstein to figure out that some of the lots in the Fifth were getting hit at the same time. He had done what he could to get units to each lot under attack, even though he knew it would already be too late.

Dirty bastards.
All
of them.

He gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to tear it off as he remembered running through the precinct, looking for on-duty cops to dispatch. Many officers had refused, even when he reminded them that he had authority over them. Fear or sheer lack of respect had kept each AP rooted to his donut. Caleb had known about the prejudice between Civilians and Azures, but this bit the artery. He'd been pissed, had roared at five officers and kicked over a chair before he jumped into a car and barreled down the streets of the Fifth, sirens blazing, with nothing but his gun and a prayer that the people in Co-op City Lot 3 were still alive.

Violating restricted duty, Captain's gonna chew my ass, don't give a
damn.
Fuck em, every last one of 'em.

Now he understood, that this is why he'd been called into the Fifth. To pick up after the apathetic bullshit of Azure cops in a dying Demesne, help them do a song and dance for the Civic Order while it crumbled from the inside out.

Please, God, don't let anyone be dead.

Caleb pulled into the lot, to see that a group of Civilians were standing or sitting at the edge. Steeling himself, he got out of his vehicle and pulled his weapon, in the same moment realizing how stupid he had been. Even if a raid
were
happening, how the hell was he supposed to stop it alone? He hadn't seen any suspicious activity on his way in, but as he walked to the group, he understood that perhaps Koa wasn't the only danger to look out for. The Civilians were staring, holding all manners of bludgeoning miscellany, and none of them looked particularly happy to see him.

Easy, Caleb. They just got pummeled for crying out loud.
Cautiously, he re-holstered his gun.

"Police," he announced, showing his badge. "Someone from here reported a raid. I'm here to investigate it."

A flicker of confusion rippled through the crowd as they looked at one another. Finally, one man, dark and towering, stepped forward. The man was holding a candle, but it did nothing to soften his somber chiseled face.

"Not sure how, officer," the man rumbled. "Koa cut off our electricity. Maybe someone ran to the next Lot and called it in... but no one here could have. Either way, we're glad they did."
 

A small smile spread across the man's face, and Caleb recognized it as respect, even if slight. He felt a tiny bit of tension fall away.

"Caleb. Detective Caleb Rai. Are any of the soldiers still in the vicinity?"

The man shook his head. "We scared them off after giving them a good beating. It'll be a while before they come back to mess with Lot 3."

The crowd around him whooted, and cheering, they lifted their rolling pins and baseball bats into the air. Caleb couldn't help but grin.

Well I'll be damned.

"That's impressive. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions and get some witness reports so we can start tracking these bastards down."

More murmurs of surprise in the crowd. Some even laughed. Uproariously. Caleb raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," the man apologized. "We don't see too many APs around here, so this is a first for many of us. I'm Merconius Anon. You must be a greenhorn." The man, Merconius, smirked. "That's the only reason you'd come down here. But we'd be glad to help you anyway we can."

Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but then his eyes caught sight of the girl standing next to Merconius. She stuck close by him, and she looked like all kinds of hell, more so than anyone else in the crowd. A black-eye, bruised cheeks, scratches... and her clothes were singed. Many of the injuries looked like they'd come from somewhere else, not a fist fight with Koa.

She was staring at him, dazed and yet all too alert. Caleb felt a pang of familiarity hit him. He'd seen her before... and more than once.

"Hey. Did Koa do that to you?" He took a careful step forward and paused when she tensed.

Merconius stepped in front of her protectively, and Caleb could see him expand in real-time. Aside from skin-tone, there wasn't much of a resemblance between him and the kid. Either way, the girl had to be his.

"Sorry, detective," Merconius said. "You're only talking to me." He then turned to the girl. "Go inside, Z. I'll talk to Officer Rai here."

The girl did as her father told, but as she walked back into their hut, she gazed at Caleb, even as the flame on her father's candle died out.

It was the Azure from the Converge. The nice one who waited in lines. Zeika watched him and Baba talk. Baba's body language was firm, but not intimidating like usual. Any other Azure he would have run off the Lot, but not this one. The AP stood tall, a hooded trench coat draping from a broad body. In the sparse light, she could see only slivers of him. His hands were in his pockets, the hood of his coat hanging low over his brow. On each shoulder of the coat an insignia: the Monas Hieroglyphica on the left, a red and black flag on the right. He seemed to know she was watching him, and never breaking the flow of conversation, he turned to the window and looked at her.

"You forgot to show fear."

Her mother's soft voice tore her away from their window, and Zeika turned around.
 

"Sorry, Mama."

Mama nodded, and with shaking fingers, she unconsciously touched the cross hanging from her neck. She had clearly just finished praying with Manja. Zeika raised an eyebrow, almost in amusement, once again wondering how Mama the Catholic and Baba the Muslim ever made it work between them. Then again, if they could handle the end of the world, then hell, religion should be a cakewalk.
 

"Did you change the bullets back?" Mama asked.

"Yeah."

"
All
of them?"

"
Yes
." She glared at her. "Come on, I've been doing this for ten years already. I know how to control it--"

"Hey, shut up," Baba interrupted, frowning. He had just walked back in, and he was closing the door behind him.
 

Zeika spared a glance to the window. The detective was gone. Probably to interview other Civilians.

"Your mother's right," Baba continued, his voice low. "It doesn't matter how good you are or how long you've been practicing. Discretion is of the utmost importance. Are we clear?"

Zeika sighed and looked away.

In two strides, Baba was in front of her, and he grabbed her hand, turning it palm up as he lifted it to the dim lighting. He frowned at the fading red line sketched across her palm. Her mother looked at it too and furrowed her brow, her fear hardening into something else.

Zeika's throat tightened. It was the scar she had lacerated into her hand just days ago, while she was having it out with Roni in the Diner.

"You know how to control it, huh?" Mama threw up her hands. "Goddamnit, Ezekiel!"

"I'm sorry--"

"You're going to get yourself found out and killed!" Mama snarled.

"I was being bullied by this crazy customer. I got angry and--"

"You're going to get
all
of us killed!"

"It was just the apron hem," Zeika cooed, raising her hands. "Just the hem. I got angry, it hardened,
turned
, whatever... then I-- turned it back to fabric again, okay? It all happened in my fist. No one saw it."

"You sure?" Baba looked at her warily.

"Positive."

Mama sat down in the couch, spent. Baba took a deep breath in. Then out.

"Okay," he said. "As far as those idiots know, their guns just jammed. And that's
all
we want them to think. So be more careful next time."