Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (5 page)

Over a decade had passed since he'd last been at the old Kingsbridge Armory. Now, he took it in with curiosity, memories that had been mere outlines in his mind now filled in with colors, sounds, and smells, all different than what he knew from his childhood. The once empty space was now crammed with desks and drenched in soft, overhead lighting. Yellow, blue, and red flags woven from rich velvets all hung from the rafters, sporting the blue and silver insignia of the Alchemic Order. Interspersed between the Alchemic Order's flags were the gossamer banners of the Civic Order, exhibiting its own insignia, a stylized wolf silhouetted against a full moon. But over the years, the banners had turned ragged and moth-eaten, practically withering off the wood.

Caleb's office just happened to be flush to one such tapestry, and Joseph ripped it off, tossing the decrepit thing to the side.

"So please His Majesty, it's not as cozy as I'm sure you're used to," Joseph grinned, putting a key into the lock.

"Yeah, yeah." Caleb smirked, and he nudged Joseph in as the door opened.

They were both greeted by a dust bunny uprising as fresh air followed them in. The office hadn't been used in years it seemed, but it was small and cozy, just enough to get work done without getting too comfortable. A flaking oak desk and a high-backed chair were shadowed by a large double-hung window that stretched across the back wall. Steel bookcases that reached from floor to ceiling flanked the desk itself, and the only free space was the one that he and Joseph were standing in. Caleb cocked his head, wondering how exactly to set up his cot when sleepover time came.

Joseph clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome home, buddy. I'll get Sam to fix it up a bit for ya."

"Sweet, thanks," Caleb muttered absently as he set his box down. He frowned. There was no way a cot would fit in here.

And you do? You got more to worry about than a cot, officer. Let's get the job first, eh?

Caleb smiled to himself. Good point. Sometimes his left brain did actually work from time to time, and it was nice to feel it put him at ease with... well, everything. As screwed up as his life had been for the past two years, he'd learned the hard way that it was better to manage his expectations. The captain still needed to see him, and Caleb still needed to pass his tests to get to stay here. Better to strap his high hopes to a parachute and keep the office decor in his box until that meeting was over.

"Hey, wanna grab something to eat real quick before the debrief? We got a damn good caf here, and I can show you around a bit. The gym and showers are right there too, and we also have a kick ass sparring room..."

Joseph didn't seem to care much about the past, it seemed. Tits, friends, and food had been his M.O. since the academy, and not much had changed that. Not even working in the toughest precinct in the worst demesne, apparently.
 

Caleb felt his self-imposed tension lift, happy to focus on Joseph's blissful unawareness. There was that, at least. Like most of the rest of the world, Joseph didn't know what had happened that night, and hopefully, he never would. It was just what Caleb needed: a clean slate, a new beginning, a friend.

"Yeah," he said, even managing to laugh. "Let's do it." And as Joseph's chatter kick-started up again, he followed him out the office.

Zeika stumbled into the mouth of the underground cavern, heaving. She had sprinted from the Converge all the way to Kingsbridge Road. Over five miles in 35 minutes. She had jetted it. Almost broke her ass a few times too. But she'd made it, and that was all that mattered.

Still reeling, she stumbled at the wide steel door and banged on it with her fist three times before collapsing onto the ground.

A rectangular space opened in the door, and a warm light filtered out, cutting into the darkness of the tunnel. A pair of large, twinkling gray eyes looked down at her, and a singsong voice twittered through. "Well isn't that a graceful pose for you!"

Zeika smirked. "You know me, Jules, I love the dramatic look."

The daycare assistant giggled and began to unlock the door. It was a complicated affair, as there were at least three bolts from what Zeika could see and more where she couldn't see. When the door finally swung inwards, she rolled to her feet and staggered inside.

"Wow. You look like something a horse crapped out." Julie snickered as she closed and locked the door behind them.

"Thanks for the vote of sympathy." Zeika reached into her robes to pull out a wad of singles. "Here."

"Twenty bucks? This is almost three times the weekly fee!"

"So what? Take it. Make it rain."

"But--" Julie protested.

"Think of it as a tip. For helping to arrange the meeting with your boss. Do the kids have food?"

"Just enough to last us until tomorrow's breakfast." Julie eyed her warily. "I mean, daycare fees have been coming in pretty slowly lately--"

Zeika reached into her backpack and took one of the plastic containers out. "Share it."

"What the hell, Z?" Julie crossed her arms, her face firm. "Is this a tip, too? Trust me, I don't need it. I get plenty of those on my job."

Zeika shoved the container into Julie's hands. "Not sure if anyone told you, but cheese sandwiches don't count as tips. Not even in your line of work where the mayo is free, if you get my drift."

Julie smirked and rolled her eyes. "Oh go screw yourself," she muttered, giggling. "They can actually be pretty nice, some of them. Lonely, war-torn, lookin' for a willing ear."

"That isn't all they're lookin' for, girl," Zeika said, smiling.

"
You
could make a really good living, you know. They love 'em dark around here. Reminds them of Azure-livin'. Reminds 'em of home."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. I deal in one too many vices already. I can barely walk into a church without exploding into flames."

Julie hunched her shoulders, suddenly sheepish. "Guess you're right. I know you're not exactly a fan of what I do--"

"Hey." Zeika waved her off. "I wasn't judging. Really. I don't care what you do. We all have to survive out here. All I care about is that you're safe. You know?"
 

Julie grinned off her embarrassment and hugged her. Zeika hugged back, tight.

"Don't worry," Julie whispered. "I'm safe. I've made sure of it. Okay?"

Zeika nodded in response, her throat tight. When the Civic economy had finally collapsed five years ago, they both left school to go work at the Lakeside Diner, but life had soon taken them to different careers. Julie's parents had been social workers and had gotten caught in the middle of some flying shrapnel on a peace mission in the beyond. Koa had bombed some Azure councilman's motorcade, and while the Azure himself had survived, but many others didn't. Word had it that Julie's parents had been on the sidelines of the procession, protesting Azure occupation of Civic Demesnes. Bombs never had the right names on them, though. Zeika would always give Julie her tips to help her out, but it wasn't enough. Eventually, she had to leave the diner and support herself in a job that'd singlehandedly pay the bills.

Beautiful Julie. Her innocent eyes, sweet face, and Midwestern charm was what got 'em, but it also made men think she was a punching bag. She'd come over to Zeika's house one too many times with bruises and sprained limbs. Her ballet buddy since kindergarten, best friend since grade one, and partner in forced truancy since grade six. One of her most loved friends, lost to the war in the beyond, just like she was.

Julie parted from her. "Your stuff's behind the kids' cubbies, and the bathroom's all set up for you," she said. "The toilet, uh, will unclog itself."

"And the shit will rise to the top." Zeika winked. "Got it."

"Behave yourself in there. Don't
break
anything."

A smirk and wave of Zeika's hand vaguely acknowledged the warning before she walked to the cubbies and pulled out a long, heavy bag from behind them. She shook it, hearing the comforting clanks of metal on metal from within. Then, she did a few curl ups with the bag to test the weight. Thirty pounds. Just right, just like she'd left it.

She went to the bathroom to wash up. There was no door to it, just a long curtain that shrouded a speck of a room bathed in broken florescent lighting. Two toilets and two sinks sat squat in the L-shaped space, and a cracked full-length mirror hung on the only free wall. The wolf moon insignia on the back of her robes slipped in and out of her view as she passed by the mirror, and when she turned to face her reflection, the crack in the glass split the dark mocha of her face in two, right between the eyes.
 

"Koa implicated in the disappearances of Civilian children."

The headline fluttered at the top of the looking glass, freshly inked into the newsprint. This was the eleventh time she'd seen it around Demesne Five in the past month. A new record, but one that no longer surprised her. So long as kids kept disappearing, daycares had been put on special alert just in case any of the missing heads turned up. Thus far, though, no one had seen a thing.
 

And they never do, do they?

After she had officially dropped out of school for work, it hadn't taken her long to realize how invisible she was. People barely noticed ghosts of war like her and Manja-- shadows hiding beneath the moon-emblazoned sheets that were supposed to protect them. No one watched as they slipped in and out of the dark, picking their ways across fields and mines and death to support their families. And no one ever found a ghost once one had gone missing.
 

So she studied them. Their faces, the bright and yet sunken eyes, how their round cheeks darkened beneath the dusks of their hoods... just in case she saw one. In case she could bring one home.

Any information leading to the recovery of Civilian ghosts of war can be anonymously delivered to:
 

Guild #5 of the Civic Order, The Guild of Almaut

Demesne Five, 40.81167, -73.846323

Phone: +001 718 792 9736

For leads on Azure ghosts of war, please direct all information to:

Guild #51 of the Alchemic Order, The Halls of Deis

Demesne Fifty-Two, 9.436797, 99.957685

Phone: +66 77 915 888

Zeika lifted her fingers and touched Johnny Quinn's picture. He had a serious and handsome face in this one, and yet it was only partially reflective of the one she'd seen every day.
 

She forced her eyes away from his face and frowned as she took in the rest of the wall. The ad for the missing Azure child, Sophia Green, had been centered and swollen with a large bold font. Stained with a background of yellow dye, it shone brightly beyond the other missing children ads, which lay scattered around it like graying, dead leaves.
 

Zeika jammed her hand into her pocket, snatched out her waitress' pen, and put it to the ad. With a deadly arc, she sliced ink through the words "Alchemic Order" and wrote capital letters in its place: CABAL. What had happened to Sophia was tragic, but it didn't erase the truth: there was nothing 'ordered' about the Azures or their Alchemists. They were just a bunch of rich thugs.
 

A toilet flushed. It was the one farthest to Zeika's left, and it gurgled loudly, like its throat was clogged with gobs of toilet paper and--
 

"Shit! Damn, girl, you should've told me you were coming early. I would've put on my Sunday's best." A voice as smooth and as slimy as moss rose above the toilet's wet roar, resounding off the walls of the bathroom.

Here we go. I'll try not to "break" him, Jules.