Chapter 23: 22: SIGNAL

Elias, Davies, and Hudson singled out a pair of senior students dressed as skeletons to follow after their ride on the East Central shuttle, tailing the stragglers past the border into the recesses of RedSect. The men were dressed as skeletons too, smearing black and white field paint onto their faces to shape the garish bones, and they carried their weapons inside of sleek black cases that showed no sign of what was hidden inside.

Faint sounds of music and bursts of colored lights dispersed into festive patterns, signaling Harvest Eve celebrations were on in full swing in the sector. The zone they were in hadn’t received orders to lockdown yet, although the sirens were sure to sound during their journey. Zero hour, the start of Harvest—and Ascension—approached.

The boys headed in the opposite direction of the activity, snaking through sparsely populated city streets framed by the silhouette of Kidish Pass. Elias gestured at Davies and Hudson to slow as another group appeared from a side street, joining the two boys ahead—two more males and two females. The students laughed as they greeted each other, glancing once or twice at the men meters behind them, before turning back toward their destination.

Solar orbs hovered above towering metal posts and lit the way as they walked, illuminating a path now dim from building darkness in the sky. The moons themselves wouldn’t be visible with the current weather, although their ethereal glow would manage to beam through the shadows. Elias pulled his hat low to his head as the damp mist around them collected into a dust of light rain. Davies, a step behind Elias, repeated the same thing he’d said twenty minutes earlier.

“There’s a wolf out there,” Davies said, turning his head toward the dark clusters of trees and hills in the distance. “Really heard it that time.”

“Fer fuck’s sake, Lieutenant,” grumbled Hudson. “No wolves before, no wolves now. They’re at the zoo, where they belong. The most yeh’ll find in Central are flying rats and ugly twist-head owls.”

As if on cue, a clamor of distant hoots reached them from the cluster of trees they’d passed. Davies looked behind at the length of winding, deteriorating road they’d traveled and sucked his teeth at the sound. “Don’t like those things either, the owls,” he said. “But wolves…always creeped me out.”

“You’ve got no issue blasting a bloodsucker in the face but a dog throws you off,” said Elias, shaking his head. “Who promoted you again?”

“Captain,” replied Davies. “Until today, parasites were stupid. To a certain degree, I’d say they still are. But wolves are hunters. They’ve always been intelligent. You’ve seen what the Earth Tomes say and Ipirian wolves are ten times worse. Like the fuckers hop from planet to planet stalking us.”

“Mr. Davies,” said Hudson. “Shut up. Stupid shit yer sayin’”

“Just an observation, sir.”

“Listen. Yer the hunter. That’s yer job. No one’s payin’ yeh to look for wolves that ain’t ‘ere. Copy?”

“Yes, sir. Copy that.”

“Finally.”

An old house loomed at the end of a dead end street and the students walked towards it with intent. The men slowed their pace, hanging back, remaining casual to watch as they entered. Each student paused to flash a projection on their COM to the door guard before gaining entry.

“The invitation’s the ticket,” said Elias, peering at the students disappearing into the house. “Gets the kids through. We’ll hold for a couple minutes for them to clear out—if this turns messy I don’t want them around.”

“Gotta be quick,” added Hudson. “No one behind us now but probably more coming down the line. I’m already hearin’ craft movin’ overhead. Don’t want ‘em caught in the cross’airs.”

“Aye.” Elias nodded. “Stay organized.”

They waited five minutes before continuing their approach to the house at the end of the road. The structure was unassuming and forgettable, a tiny home with a worn synthetic front yard in desperate need of maintenance. They climbed the short set of stairs and Elias paused before the front door, tapping his finger against the panel embedded in the frame. The sensor blinked at his contact.

Another minute passed before the door zipped open, revealing a skinny figure in CDPD gear. Elias peered at a pair of cold green eyes framed by a dark mask. The face was of someone as young as the students who’d passed and the stealth gear worn by the boy in front of him was real—Elias could tell by the emblems, patterns, and the texture of the modified fibers of the material. He smiled instead of reacting, a memory of piss-stain Grimley flashing in his mind, and activated his COM to summon a projection of the invite.

“Happy Harvest,” he said, showing the boy the holographic image. “That’s what you need, right? Password: BLOODFEAST, date and hour backwards.”

The cold eyes glanced at the projection blaring ZERO HOUR PARTY before scanning Elias with suspicion. “You’re too old to be students,” he said.

“We’re actually a band,” replied Elias. “Supposed to open tonight.”

“Huh. Yeah right. Which band?”

“We’re, ah…Stellar Sky.” Elias kept his focus forward while Hudson coughed. “Dance music and…all that.”

“You’re not on the lineup.”

“We’re friends with Jackal. Our segment’s unannounced but we’re late. Now we won’t get to take the stage.” Elias sighed. “Well. At least we can watch our buddy perform.”

The boy perked with interest. “You’re friends with Jackal?”

“Good friends.”

“I haven’t met him yet.” A youthful energy buzzed in him as he spoke. “I’ve seen him in person, though. He’s ace. Taste For Blood’s my favorite experience. It’s so nova.”

“Taste For Blood. Yeah. Ace. It is nova. He thinks we won’t be there so this’ll be a huge surprise.”

“Well. Okay. You’re already late.” The young doorman moved aside to let them in, watching as they entered. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be over there soon too.”

“Cosmic.”

“Go down that hall. Take a left.” The boy planted a sedasig in his mouth and gestured inside of the house. “One gold coin. Red Lady will let you through.”

“Red Lady,” said Elias. “All right.”

The hallways of the home were narrow. Deeper inside, the rooms they passed were almost bare, save for the minimum of furniture to indicate the place wasn’t abandoned. Sterility overpowered the atmosphere, making the place appear untouched as if no one lived there. Elias heard Hudson mutter a curse behind them as they passed a partially open door and within, Elias spied hundreds—thousands—of photographs pinned to the walls.

“What the hell…?” Elias uttered.

“They’re kids,” noted Davies, poking his head inside. “Young. Younger than the ones we’re after. Everyone in ‘em looks…miserable. Wonder what it means.”

“Disgustin’, evil trash,” said Hudson, his painted face and beard twisting into a scowl. “That’s what it means. Cult fuckers live and die for this shit. Love makin’ yeh nervous ‘bout what they do since it’s as sick as yeh think.”

“Fear’s a weapon.” Elias frowned. “Easy way to gain control, by making someone terrified of you. From what I remember…these pictures are used to mark inventory.”

“Inventory. Yeh mean—”

“Yep. Pictures just like this. Paper types. Over and over again, sometimes the same victims from many angles to mock them. It’s a game. A joke to display them after, making fun of human prey before a slaughter.”

“Widow.”

“Yeah,” Elias nodded. “Widow. They organized inventory for special holidays. Big part of the way they did things. Big for…Akil. Especially during Harvest. Something special spikes in the blood from horror, especially when it’s generated by an innocent—turns it into a taboo drug like no other. The younger, the better for that purposed. I was about the age of these kids back then when I saw personally how the savages had it done.”

“Are they residents?” asked Davies. “Still alive? Maybe we can do something for them now that we’re here.”

“Doubt it. On both counts. The images that aren’t burned in a sacrificial fire are kept sometimes for nostalgia. Or propaganda and blackmail. Money has to flow, even for a murdering cult.”

At the end of the hall and to the left there lay a room filled with light awaiting them. As the men approached a tall figure walked past the doorway, eclipsing the light momentarily, and Elias slowed his movements, pausing several paces away. He surveyed what he could see from the outside and after a few moments a withered voice called from within.

“What’s the delay?” croaked an aged female. “Hurry up. I can smell you out there…watching.”

Elias led the way inside. A diminutive old woman with a leathery, creased face and dressed in red suit sat at a polished dinner table in the home’s kitchen. She smoked a fine jeweled sedasig device, plumes of colored vapor emanating and disappearing around her. Beside her stood a mammoth of a man, one larger than even Hudson, and the man's face was obstructed by the same dark CDPD stealth mask as the boy outside.

“I guess you’re Red Lady,” said Elias as they approached. “Honor’s mine.” He nudged his head in the direction of the massive man. “Does he have a name?”

“Yes,” cackled the old woman. “His name’s Tiny. Because that’s the size of his fucking brain.” A graveled chuckle escaped her. “Now shut up. One gold coin for passage. Each. Put it on the table. Make it quick.”

“Right. You got it.” Elias reached into one of the pockets of his field trousers and slid the coins across the table, stepping back to signal he was done. “Three gold gilar. There you go.”

The woman climbed out of her seat and reached over the table, swiping the coins into her grasp and examining them before plopping back down. She dropped the coins into a compartment under the table and jerked her thumb over to the door, gesturing toward the exit behind Tiny.

“Cellar leads to the tunnel,” she said. “You’ll exit near the tube graveyard. Follow the map from there. Lookouts within Kidish will guide you to the temple. Go on.”

The men circled the table and passed Tiny, who turned his head to watch as they neared. Elias stopped short when the noisy screech of a seat sliding across tile pealed behind him. Davies tapped him hard on the shoulder and Elias glanced aside, finding the massive Tiny standing a pace behind him as well. He turned his head further to peer at Red Lady, who now stood on the table and pointed.

“Not so fast," she said. "Almost missed the luggage. What’s in the bags, gentlemen?”

“Musical instruments,” replied Elias immediately without missing a beat. “I told your agent out there that we're a band, just running late. Don’t want to be any later than we already are so I guess we'll just get on our way—”

“Oh.” Red Lady smiled. “Musical instruments. You’re a band. That's lovely. I've got a taste for music myself. What sort of instruments have you got?”

“Ah…the usual.” Elias wracked his memory for common instruments. “You know…guitar. Light harp. Piano.”

“Light harp,” said Red Lady warmly. “A piano too, you say. That’s my favorite. Old-world frame, I’m assuming. Nice and solid. What kind? Petite grand or concert grand?”

Elias glanced at Hudson and Davies, who shook their heads subtly. No fucking clue. Elias cursed them inwardly. On his own.

“Uh…concert grand,” he replied.

“Wonderful,” she chuckled. “And you managed to fit one in that case and lug it around the zone. What a strong man you are. You look it, too. If I were a hundred years younger you’d be in some trouble.”

“That's a flattering compliment.”

“Open the bag.”

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Elias tightened his expression. “Not polite to poke around other people’s belongings, Madame. You’ve been a great host so far. Let’s keep this friendly.”

The old woman reached behind her and pulled out a firearm hidden under her jacket, aiming a laser point at Elias right between his eyes. He met her glare as she hissed.

“I said open the fucking bag.”

“Okay,” he said. “All right.” He held up his hands. “No need to get hasty. I can tell you’re serious. Shame we’re taking this path.”

“Shut it, shithead.”

Davies and Hudson started to follow his lead. Red Lady barked at them before they could move.

“Stay where you are,” she snapped. “Only the smart-ass shows the goods.”

Elias smiled, flashing teeth he’d polished before his call to Ovadia in an effort to feel somewhat clean. He unfastened the latches on his case with slow, exaggerated movements and presented the closed case to Red Lady with flourish, rotating the case toward her. He paused to peer at Tiny too as his gloved hand passed over the top of the case, clearing off imaginary dust. He worked carefully at the task until Red Lady lost her patience.

“Hurry up!” she grunted, kicking the case with a stout, stumpy leg. “You’re wasting time!”

“All right,” he said. “All right. I see you’re upset. That’s not good. Even I know you shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.”

He reached over and pulled the lid of the case open so that his battle-ready rifle was in full view. The old bat’s eyes flew toward the weapon. Elias nodded at her once she registered what lay below her.

“This is how I make music.”

Red Lady fired without hesitation. Elias grabbed the case and dragged it off the table in that same split of a second, diving to the floor and ducking out of line of fire. Hudson spun around and cracked Tiny in the head with his case as Davies shifted aside, snapping open the third case to yank his weapon into grip. Elias whipped out his pistol from his belt and fired back at Red Lady from below as she leaped, his bullet slugging her through the side. The impact knocked her off course, dropping her to the ground.

Elias ripped the rifle out of the case with his free arm as he continued firing at Red Lady, lunging out of the way when the short woman rolled over and returned fire, pelting the ground around him with a wild spray. Tiny rebounded fast, heaving a gargantuan fist toward Hudson and almost making contact until Hudson darted out of the way. Hudson returned again with the case, whacking Tiny another time, as Elias spun the rifle into aim to fire at the massive guard now ahead of him.

Davies unloaded into Tiny from his position behind the guard as Hudson armed himself and Tiny faltered, blood and mass flying as the man was struck by steady fire from multiple sides. Elias switched focus to look for Red Lady and found that she was already gone. His attention zipped back to Tiny, alert spiking when their molten ammunition seared through the large man’s body without slowing him down.

Elias crouched, holstering the pistol to take full grip of the rifle. He shifted aim to point the muzzle up for the head shot and Tiny noticed his movement, bolting at Elias with surprising speed, forcing him to jump out of the way.

“Put him down!” barked Elias over COM as he regained his bearings. He repositioned himself behind the massive figure, his retreat a hair faster than the man’s lumbering motions. “Now!”

“Workin’ on it!”

Hudson swooped into position as Tiny swung around to grab hold of Elias. The muzzle of Hudson’s weapon jabbed up into the base of Tiny’s skull and the commander fired, shattering Tiny’s head apart with a high caliber projectile. An explosion of dark-colored matter and fluid sprayed outward. Tiny fell, crashing to the floor, and the hunters moved out of the way of the massive form's collapse.

“Freak should’ve been down,” said Hudson, voice rasped from adrenaline as he continued aiming at the fallen Tiny. “Another, Captain. Human, native, infected—or what? A monster?”

“Restrain and watch him in case he decides to come back. Davies, cover the hall.” Elias spotted a sporadic trail of crimson leading from the kitchen to the hallway. Blood—and it was from Red Lady. “The other one,” said Elias. “She’s out there. Bitch left a trail. Pursuing.”

“Copy.”

Elias entered the narrow passage again, his gaze darting between streaks of red in the quiet spaces ahead. The room full of images remained empty—completely empty without furniture, just hundreds—thousands—of hollow eyes following him as he passed. He reached the intersection where the youth directed him to head left and glanced first at the front door and then at the other hallway on the right.

Movement in the hallway sparked Elias to action and he charged toward it, finding another corner as he neared. A shadow darted into view and fired, forcing him to evade. He doubled back fast and returned ammunition without pause, the figure ducking out of sight as he came into view. A solid thud from around the corner quickened his pace. He used the wall as cover, angling himself to peer around.

Counting quickly to himself, he burst into the hall with rifle aimed, seeking the shadow who’d attacked. His gaze fell on an unmoving mass on the floor and he approached with caution, swallowing reaction at the pool of red below. There was a body on the floor, one of a young man wearing authentic CDPD gear. He’d tagged the kid guarding the front door through the throat, killing the young man in an instant.

Elias allowed himself a fraction of a moment to survey the boy’s slack body before continuing down the hall, muttering over the team link.

“Lieutenant,” he said. “Shot the kid. Fired at me in the east hall. Restrain the body. If there’s anything off about him you know what to do.”

“Copy,” replied Davies.

“Moving.”

“Two steps behind.”

Eyes back to the end of the hall, Elias retraced his mental image of the home. Besides the stairs leading down to the cellar there had to be another staircase that led to the second floor. Unless there was some alternate secret tunnel then the criminal called Red Lady didn’t have many places to hide. Badly wounded, the old bat had to be desperate. That meant both she and Elias were ready to kill.

He remained on high alert and approached the end of the hall, finding that this one hooked back in the direction of the main hall. His finger hovered near his rifle trigger as he paused, peering quick and pulling back, noting the placement of the second set of stairs as well as another corner. Elias counted again—one, two, three—before darting into view to quickly scan the area. Quiet. Nothing there…or so it seemed.

He took a step forward and peered through the rifle’s scope, his muzzle streaking through the air as he cleared the perimeter. First left then right and then back before turning his attention onto the staircase.

Rapid movement sparked him to action. His finger pumped the trigger in automatic response as he followed. A shot whizzed past his head, embedding in the wall behind him, and he spotted a smear of red on the stairs as he evaded—a short and squat streak. An aged woman in red more than a hundred years old. That was her. That was—

Red Lady.

Elias unloaded as he lunged to the opposite wall, Red Lady's shots barreling past him. His aim followed the ball of red as it tumbled down the stairs before it hit the carpet without moving. He darted towards Red Lady, weapon aimed, and she groaned in pain, clutching her chest. Blood spluttered as it spilled from her mouth.

Her slit eyes peered up at Elias and her choking breaths rattled into a coughing laugh. One of his shots had torn right through her face. Elias jabbed her with his boot and shoved the muzzle into her chest wounds, watching as she recoiled.

“Who are you?” he asked calmly when she’d stilled, easing up. Somewhat.

“Your…enemy,” she sputtered.

“Sinum? You animals attacking that party, bitch?”

She laughed again—weaker now. Fading fast. He shoved the rifle back with more force and roared.

“Answer me!”

Her eyes rolled to the side and she wheezed, voice faint. Elias leaned closer to listen.

“I sent…the signal,” she uttered, her smile still curling wide. “You’re all…finished.”

“Signal?” said Elias. “What signal?”

He jabbed her another time but she didn’t move, save for several errant spasms of her limbs as she died. His breath was short and tight as he stared into her glassy, empty eyes. He slid the rifle strap onto his shoulder and removed a pair of restraints from the inside of his jacket, kneeling beside the body to lock her wrists together.

“Commander,” he said over the team link. “Lieutenant.” He waited for them to acknowledge before continuing, the flexible restraints dangling from his hand as he grabbed hold of Red Lady’s forearm. “I’ve confirmed the party’s the target of an attack. The size and severity of it…I don’t know. We have no time.”

“Let’s move,” replied Hudson gravely. “The navigator’s got to have a response organized with Union by now. We’ll get your brother and those kids out of there, Captain. Alive.”

Elias latched the loop of the restraints around Red Lady’s arms. “Seal the house from the inside. Mark the door with Defense colors. No one else is coming through here or getting to that party. Lieutenant—”

A low, wheezing whistle escaped from the body below. New alarm spiked in Elias. Red Lady leaped, this time with a razor-sharp mouth baring full feeding fangs, and he had a fraction of a second to react. He released his hold, bashing her in the face with his fist mid-flight. Rapid, forceful bursts over COM indicated that the others they’d dropped were also coming back—just like Bill and Barbara Dugal. Like Havershaw and even…Grimley. Back from the dead.

Reanimated.

The squat body tumbled to the ground and Elias was up that same moment, swinging his weapon into grip to unload into her again. Her body jumped as each projectile tore into her, burrowing singeing holes into her flesh until she lay on the ground tattered to messy pieces, motionless like before. He streaked over to her and ejected the litinium metal stake attachment from underneath the rifle, jabbing it into her chest, waiting for her decay. His eyes narrowed into slits as he surveyed her rapidly mutating face and jaws—another target moving to Stage 7 and beyond. He waited for the reaction but there was…nothing.

“Captain,” said Davies over COM. “The kid came back. Fought the restraints. Almost snapped ‘em. I staked him to stop the reanimation but—”

“He won’t leave,” finished Elias. “He’s rabid but doesn’t follow the rules.”

“Same with Tiny,” said Hudson. “Ugly son of a bitch has barely a head left on that fat neck of 'is after what I did but ‘e still tried to bite. Don’t think a decap’s gonna make much of a difference. They’re dead, undead, whatever, but…they ain’t leavin’ like they’re supposed to. Body still wants to fight.”

“What next?” asked Davies. “I’ve got the kid on the ground but by the sound of things he might try again if we don’t destroy this corpse.”

“We have to keep moving. No time for backup but we can’t leave these bodies here. Not like this, with the risk that they—or some part of them—will hop up again. Have to destroy them before we go.” Elias scanned the corridors and the staircase once more. “Lieutenant, drag that kid’s body to the kitchen and stack it with Tiny’s. Double back for Red Lady. Decapitate them all and seal the house as ordered. Check for available accelerants and I’ll take inventory of what’s here before we torch the place. Including those photos. Including those bodies. Move fucking fast. Copy?”

“Copy.”

Elias examined Red Lady’s wrist again, now peering at the COM band on her wrist. Small birds that once fluttered in animation over the faceplate were frozen mid-flight on the display. The hour gleamed with unmoving brightness—2242. After a few unsuccessful attempts at unlatching the band from her wrist Elias concluded that she’d activated the security lock, meaning only her personal touch and patterns would remove the band. He swung the rifle out of his way as he drew his hunting knife from concealment on his calf.

Davies returned while Elias cut through Red Lady's wrist, separating her hand from her arm. Davies waited for Elias to finish, keeping aim on the rebel’s limp form, until Elias was able to slip the COM band off of the woman.

“Take her,” said Elias, wicking slick blood off the band with a flick before placing the device into his pocket. “The hand too. I don’t want any part of her left behind.”

“Yes, sir,” said Davies.

Elias moved aside as Davies stooped to tuck Red Lady’s hand inside of her blouse and watched Davies lift the short figure off the ground by the ankle, continuing back toward the kitchen. He removed a small orb from a pouch on his belt and activated it with a touch, unfurling a winged NAV bug to assist him in cataloging the scene. The tiny device hovered behind him as he summoned a recording projection, his voice low as he logged notes and headed upstairs.

His mind and instincts repeated unspoken critical warnings about his brother, about the juveniles at the party, and about the mysterious man at the head of it all. A wildland superstar with a taste for blood. A mysterious native called…Jackal.

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