Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (35 page)

"But if you two can do it..."

He smiled, thinking of Manja and her bear, and of Zeika, ready to kick ass if he even breathed wrong. They were Civilians. Normal. They had no powers, no money, and had lost everything. Still, they were alive. Just like him. If not for anything else, he had to survive for them, at least until they reunited with their family.
 

Caleb turned back down the hall, his doubts swept away by their smiling faces. Monsters of many skins crawled around Demesne Five, but he would meet them. For Zeika and Manja, he would meet them. It wasn't just the only thing he could do. It was what he was
going
to do.

"Where are the rebels? We need more.
Now
, Cotch. You promised to deliver. You are neglecting our deal."

Xakiah leaned back in his chair, feet up, smiling as he watched a tousle-haired David Georin scowl on the other side of the table. The wiry man hadn't seen a pillow in ages, it seemed, or even a shower.
 

"Good doctor, do you concern yourself only with business? I am here on a social visit."
 

"I typically prefer to deal with the devil himself, not play games with his little imps." Georin snapped. "Where is Vassal Moss?"

"My Vassal sends his sincerest apologies. He's attending his other affairs. I'm taking care of his business in his stead."

"Not very well, apparently."

Xakiah felt the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. "Rough night, doctor?"

Georin's gaze pierced his. "The Madam is declining again. We can't wait much longer for your next shipment. If you can't deliver on time, then we'll have to find someone else."

"You won't have to. The shipment has come to you. Koa has infiltrated the Protecteds. Alchemic law enforcement is already mobilizing to smoke them out."

"Clearly. Why else would we come here?"

Xakiah smiled. "Yes, and here you are, circling above the graveyard like vultures. But remember that the vultures do not dictate when the lion is to hunt. I will send more Messhe and Koan rebels to the Winds of Cua when it best suits the Order. You will sit and wait for your meal, or else you'll go head-hunting on your own. Madam Cua will wait."

"She doesn't have much time, Cotch."

"That is her problem. Not ours. I'm not here for that."

"Then explain to me why you're wasting my time."

"I thought I saw some Ninkashi earlier. I was wondering if you've been stirring up any trouble in the labs. You know... bringing things up that are supposed to stay down?"

Georin's eyes went wide. "The Ninkashi are dead."

"I'm not toying with you, David."

"Hey, I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" The doctor threw up his hands. "What would
my
lab need with the Ninkashi? They're terrible research subjects-- they're the only specimens that'll rip out your throat while they're still under the knife. Are you serious? What the hell am I going to do with a broken Messhe?"

"You scientists always think of something. Find out where they're coming from."

"I don't take orders from you, Cotch. Cua and I run these labs, not you. Not Vassal Moss, either."

Xakiah chuckled, shaking his head. Hubris. Such a little man, such an overestimation of his own worth. That anyone believed they were above the Order was ludicrous. Amazing, how easily scientists like their dear Georin forgot their true places in the world. Their laboratories, where all experiments and protocols were under their control, gave them a false sense of godhood. The good doctor clearly needed to get out more, remember his place in the world and in the Order. Perhaps it was Xakiah's destiny to save this fool from nemesis.

"Consider yourself lucky that the Order still acknowledges your utility," Xakiah said. "Yet, Luck is such a fickle mistress. I would be very careful with my words, if I were you, Georin."

"Or else, what? You'd drown me in acid? Right. You and I both shop with the same bag of bullshit. I could only imagine what the Azures'd do to you if it weren't for Moss' protection. You'd be alone. Vulnerable. Just like the rest of us."

Xakiah smiled. "Vassal Moss doesn't protect me from the Azures. It is quite the other way around." He leaned over the table, leveling his eyes with Georin. "Find out where the Ninkashi are coming from. It's not a request."

Georin's eyes hardened. Still the fool, apparently. One that would eventually have to be broken. Xakiah would take great pleasure in doing it now, but if he did, his Vassal would be infuriated.

Calm, Proficient.

His mind whispered the warning coolly, Vassal's words laying a sweet and balsamic touch on his agitation. Vassal cared for him, trusted him enough to allow him to tend to his affairs. Xakiah couldn't falter, not even to punish the callow worm that stood before him, feigning defiance. Deepening Vassal's trust would take patience, consistency. Calm.

Dr. David Georin served his purposes. So long as the Winds of Cua-- and Georin's lab hidden within them-- remained the repositories of all Koan trash, he and Vassal Moss needed the good doctor around. But the moment that the need dissipated...

He stood up, straight, smiling. The gesture was almost gentle, and he could see concern flash through Georin's eyes at the change.

"I look forward to your next report, David. If you want another shipment, then you'll have information ready for me."
 

With that, Xakiah left the good doctor to his work, musing only on the sweet fantasy of when his Vassal would finally let him off the leash.

Dawn at Lot 26. And by the smell alone, Zeika knew that Baba and Caleb had been telling the truth about the nine-lot attack. It was confirmed by the odious mist wafting down the block, one that hit her five minutes before she even reached the lot. Like meat left out in moist heat, the smell of decay sank into her, and it was all she could do to keep her lunch down. She pinched her throat against the gag reflex and soldiered on, already preparing herself for what she knew they were going to see.

"Oh God..." she moaned. Her feet had barely touched the gravel before she saw it.

An entire carpet of corpses, all soft and jellied with decay, lain over the blasted earth. Or they were slumped against battered apartment domiciles. Or hanging from them. The clash that had erupted between Koa and Civilians here had left the latter massacred. Even more disturbing, though, was that no one had bothered to clean up the mess.

She picked her way through, and she kept the spasms of her stomach level as she absorbed the various grotesqueries of war. One man's forehead gaped open, his skull yawning under the smoky haze of gun discharge. Another had been crushed, maybe beneath a truck, his parts now indistinguishable from the soil with which he had melded. The earth had drunk heavily on his blood and was stained with black. A mixture of burnt shit and decay clung to Zeika's throat, the scent heavy. Old.

A month. Nearly a month and still... these poor people...

Her stomach flopped again, but she breathed out, determined to keep calm for Manja's sake. Scorched mud parted like ash beneath her feet, causing her to sink down with every step she took. Manja clung to her back tightly, unusually silent. Zeika had strapped her with a gas mask and a blindfold to screen out the sensualities of death. But Manja must have known. The girl trembled with every step Zeika took.
 

When they finally came to about half-way through the field, she stopped and put Manja down on a clear spot. She adjusted the straps of the girl's "hiking gear", which was actually Manja's two bears, re-sewn into a knapsack and fanny pack. Zeika took off her own bag, a dry placenta of burlap, and she opened it.
 

"All right, sweetie," she said. "We'll start on your two o'clock."

Manja nodded and slowly turned 45 degrees northeast. She lifted her arms and stretched them forward, spreading her fingers wide.
 

Zeika gripped the burlap bag by its open lip. "Go ahead."

Manja's face screwed up tightly behind the gas mask. In the next moment, three different bodies began to twitch. She could hear Manja whimper as the corpses jerked around, kicking up the flakes of their earthen beds. Dead flesh slithered over the ground as they twitched, but still the girl muscled through, screwing up her face tighter--

Schick.

A crushed bullet uprooted from the eye of one dead body, and bits of darkened flesh fell away as the bullet hovered in the air.

Schick-schsch-sch-schick.

Casings and shells, shattered shrapnel, broken blades, and other metals of battle tore themselves from the flesh of their victims, hovering above their former hosts as they heeded Manja's call. Manja's face relaxed a bit as she continued to levitate the metal.

"Good job, hon. Now just give me a second."

Zeika walked around to one of the bodies and held the bag under the floating metal. With just a whim, she turned the metal into fabric, and the pieces of cloth fell into the open bag, finally free of Manja's control. Transforming the metal lightened their loads by more than half, allowing her to carry twice as much back home. Before things went to hell, mining trips were a common part of their daily circuit. But never like
this
.

She clenched her jaw. It was disrespectful, at best. And at worst... well, it was sacrilege, really.
Haram
. Soulless. Even someone as godless as she knew that much. But all the other trash repositories had been flagged as potential Ninkashi nests. AP-guarded quarantines had been constructed in neat perimeters at every trash pit and junkyard in town. So after being turned back from nearly every mining site she knew, they came here. To Lot 26, the first of nine hit by Koa that night. The first stone cast.
 

And now, for all you know, the metal you're collecting could be same metal you sold last week. Maybe you're picking your own shrapnel out of someone else's kid. Merchant of death, whose wares never create, only destroy--
 

She bit down, stopping the thought as soon as it attempted entry. She couldn't afford to think that way, even if it were true. Metal itself didn't kill, just the people who used it. And if she and Baba hadn't supplied Civilians with weapons, the Protecteds might've been mowed down by Azures, Koa, or God knows what else, years ago... much like the other demesnes had been in the beyond.

She collected the last piece of metal, walked back to her sister, and knelt down to check on Manja's blindfold and mask. Baby couldn't bear the sight or the smell of the dead, nor would Zeika ever ask her to. The poor thing had been traumatized two years ago when she
first
discovered her powers.
 

It had been another smoky morning when they'd stumbled across a dead dog in the middle of Kingsbridge Road. It had been shot to death, maybe by the APs, maybe by kids. They hadn't known that of course, and Zeika was just as prepared to walk around the carcass and not ask questions-- until Manja felt the need to help the pup. "It's sleeping," Manja had said. She'd said she could see blue beads in the dog's stomach. She'd said the dog would 'wake up' if she just pulled them out.
 

Zeika had tried to protest, but Manja had already raised her hand outwards, and in the next moment, the dog's stomach was ripping open, shards of metal flying out of it. The dog's legs reanimated jerkily as the bullets uprooted in dry wisps of fur. And Manja was screaming--

She had refused to speak for a week after that. She'd refused to use her powers, too.

Poor thing. Quite a few months passed before Zeika was able to convince her that the dog had already been dead.

Zeika slung the bag over her front again and crouched, presenting her back to Manja. "Up you go."

Manja reached out blindly, feeling for Zeika's shoulders, and she hoisted herself up onto her back. Zeika secured her and the load and continued walking them through the field of dead.

They needed to mine at least four or five more corpses in order to get enough metal for the next batch of weapons; she wasn't sure there were that many bodies left, though. Manja had taken all the metal she could, but maybe they could look for some old rags in alley trashcans, or--

"Zeeky! Look!"
 

The girl pointed to their left at what looked like a pile of blasted rubble. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"What? They're just rocks."

"Not just rocks. A door. A blue door in the ground. And a blue ladder too!"

Zeika walked over to the distant pile of broken stones and waved her hand, squeezing her powers under the rubble. The rocks fell downward as the metal door beneath them transformed, revealing a square shaped hole.

"Nice job, kid."

Zeika peeked in. A faint light glowed at the bottom of the hole, just enough so that she could see all the way down. It couldn't have been any deeper than twenty feet or so.

"Are we going in?" Manja asked.

"Yeah. But not like this. I'm going to go in first, and you're going to follow me down just a little bit. But you need to stay close to the top of the ladder, and you need to stay there until I call you, do you understand?"

"Yes, Zeeky."

Zeika undid the obi sash, unloaded Manja and the bag of fabric, and then tied the bag to Manja's back. She set Manja's bear bag at her front, smiled, and pinched her cheek. Then she pulled her gun. Holding it in one hand and grabbing the ladder with the other, she started the climb down. Manja looked in and when Zeika had gone down far enough, she started in after her. She stopped about a third of the way just like Zeika told her to, and Zeika continued downward, disappearing into the dark.

As Cameron pulled the car up to the curb, Caleb and Bly silently checked their weapons. They hadn't talked much on the way over, but they didn't need to, really. Bly was an asshole, Cam was a rookie, and Caleb was somewhere in between, from what he could tell. The only thing they had in common was that they'd all responded to the same emergency Ninkashi call, and they had agreed to go in together. "Don't die", seemed to be the team slogan as Bly chambered a round in his shotgun and Cam checked his ammo pack.