Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #152 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘DeathWatch’ then go to ‘#0 – A Beginning’ and read from there, or go find the issue # you remember, and catch up from there!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

Moving through the jungle, Jet felt light on his feet, impossibly quick. He ran beside Immanis, shrouded in black, his painted face and mask bearing sigils to invoke fear. His golden eyes gleamed in the gathering dark, while his bare feet danced through the wet night. He felt the damp air in his lungs, felt the rain come down harder and faster. He could almost smell the prisoners; both he and Immanis ran for the northeast like lions giving chase.

Immanis smiled in the dark; he could feel Jet’s blood singing to him, his brother, his lover, his parapraelium — his battle mate. He felt high on a rush of aetheris, delighted to be giving chase to the prey, and his howls and laughter rose, and seemed to call down the storm.

Out in the city, people watched the screens as the technics who worked for the palace displayed the best angles of both the Prince and the city’s Guardian — as well as showed the running fear of the prisoners, most of whom, for the moment, had banded together.

* * *

“We should stick together,” Garrett said. “Regardless of–”

“You don’t get it,” Nate growled. “We’re all liabilities if we–”

“Shut. Up. And Run,” snarled a voice no one recognized.

The group spun about, each of them looking into the night, panting.

There stood a figure in the rain, covered in mud and bloody slashes, holding a machete in one hand, shoulders heaving in panted breaths.

“Legatus?” Kieron asked, carefully lowering his gun yet again. The last he’d seen of the man, he was leaving with Jules, as Kieron was taken to his own gilded cage — before his visions betrayed him.

“Was wondering when you’d turn up,” Sha said, looking distrustful. “The Prince seems to turn quickly — I thought you’d had his favor, the last time I saw you. But if he was going to send you here, why separate us? Why didn’t you show up in the bus that brought us here?”

“I was brought here around the same time as you. In a different bus,” Coryphaeus said, still panting, gesturing that everyone should follow him further into the wet forest. “They had to… debrief me, first.” He cleared his thraot, looking away, momentarily. He shifted, letting the rain wash over him, sluice away the mud, the blood, revealing old wounds, things beginning to bruise.

“Are you lost? Why didn’t you run for the wall?” Nate said, looking skeptical.

“I made a promise to get you out of here.” Coryphaeus’s voice was quiet, earnest.

Sha snorted, rolling her eyes. “To who?” She looked disbelieving, perhaps even angry at the waste of time.

“Jules,” Nate said, lifting his chin. He didn’t seem surprised, or irritated, but somewhere between touched and dismissive. “I gotta say, Legatus — I’m surprised.”

“Are you?” Coryphaeus said, watching Nate. “She’s the kind of woman you keep a promise to.”

“It’s not her end of the bargain I was struggling with,” Nate returned dryly.

“I ended up here because of my own pride. I can lead us out, but only if you hurry. The Commander would never forgive me if I didn’t get you out of here,” Coryphaeus said, looking grimly at the others. “You cannot make a stand. Even without his powers, the Prince’s swordplay is legendary,” he explained. “Now everyone keep what weapons they can use quickly, and run. The Prince comes in from the west. The Northeast corner has one of the least difficult ways of escaping. Now, for the love of all you hold dear — run.”

* * *

The Hunt itself had officially begun, and now it was only a matter of days before blood was spilled, before the city had trophies to string over the gates, before another festival would break out — though truly, already people had begun the preparations. Banners were hung, flowers were cut, foods were being made, streets were swept.

Not just the city state, but nearly everyone on the eastern side of the Luminora was tuning in to watch their glorious leaders match wit and skill against such a large group of prey.

Jet hadn’t drawn a weapon yet; all his knives were laid against his body; his largest sword was carefully strapped to his back — he could feel the cold of the glass against his skin. His breath came in quick, short pants, almost misting clouds in the thickening rain. More than once he slid in the mud, but kept running, laughing aloud.

He and Immanis stared up at the storm, beasts baring their teeth, laughing at the rain, hands clutching trunk and vine as they thundered through the jungle without a care for the smaller prey they terrified on the way. Rabbit and fox and vole and martin and pheasant all crashed out of their way in any direction possible — nothing wanted to be caught in their path.

Far above the city, stormclouds gathered, roiled, grew bruised and grey and then began to shudder with rolling lightning. The citizens of Ilona prayed to their Guardian, to their Prince, to the old gods, and delighted in the downpour, taking shelter under street canopies, gathering at public telescreens. Families watched at home; men, women, and children staring eyes-wide at their leader, their protector, as they raced, fearless toward their quarry.

Jet paused at one point, not to catch his breath, but to howl at the sky, his voice lifting in an eerie, otherworldly cry — a note of challenge to every other living thing in the walled space. The Hunting Grounds were his, tonight.

Immanis felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; he stopped, tense, watching his lover, and could not help but lift his voice in harmony.

* * *

Cory switched direction at that sound, shouting for everyone to follow him and push further north — he wanted them to reach the wall as quickly as possible. Even if the wall was a little higher than he’d hoped, directly north, it was still preferable to being caught in the green by the Prince and his Guardian. “Run!” he urged, trying to keep the panic from his face, his voice. “RUN!”

* * *

NEXT

This is Issue #151 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘DeathWatch’ then go to ‘#0 – A Beginning’ and read from there, or go find the issue # you remember, and catch up from there!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

The sound of trumpets announced the arrival of the Prince and the Guardian. They were played over loudspeakers placed along the walls and at various fountains and statuettes within the massive city jungle. A herald’s voice penetrated the rainy dimness, proclaiming the impending deaths of all those being hunted.

Garrett hurried up, trying not to make too much noise as he followed the trail he’d found, fairly certain it would lead him to Kieron’s group.

Booted feet went as quickly as possible, over terrain growing more and more slick as the rain came down faster and faster. When he burst out of the undergrowth and revealed himself, a solid dozen of the prey turned, bringing up their weapons immediately. Kieron himself lifted a horrific-looking thing, a snarl peeling back his lips, baring his teeth. He glared at Garrett, who immediately pulled up his goggles and pulled down his scarves, saying, “Brody. Brody, it’s me!”

Nate bared his teeth, not lowering his weapon, and when Kieron began to lower his, Nate stepped in front of him, bringing the muzzle of his own gun up.

Garrett could see the man’s arm had been injured, was being held funny, and so he wasn’t aiming as well with the gun he had, but he was pretty damned sure the gun would compensate for even a modestly poor aim. “Brody?” he pled. “It’s Garrett. From the Academy.”

Kieron’s expression was absolutely bewildered; he stared at Garrett for so long, Sha grew nervous, saying, “C’mon boys. We gotta make good time. Vet the man or let Quarter shoot him.”

“Professor?” Kieron whispered, finally. “Professor Garrett is that… is… is that you?” He looked around, as though to confirm that he hadn’t lost his mind — that everyone else could see the man, and that he wasn’t an illusion.

“It’s me, Brody,” Garrett said, offering out a hand.

How quickly Kieron’s expression could shift from hardened killer to baby-faced student. Tears came to his eyes, sudden and swift; he took two steps forward and took the hand, squeezing it tightly, hanging on to the lifeline as though it were the only real thing left in the world. “I don’t know why you’re here, or how you got here, Professor, but we’re in an awful bind.”

“I know, I have s–” Garrett began.

“Let’s move, gentlemen,” Sha hissed. “In case anyone’s forgotten, they turned loose the lions.”

“I came for you, Brody,” Garrett said, glancing back over his shoulder. “For you and Jet. I’ve come to take you home.”

At the mention of Jet, Kieron flinched, turning white. “Jet.” He hung his head for a moment, his eyes closing. “Jet’s… he’s gone, Professor. I know he was here. I know he was with the Prince. I know it. But I can’t find him. I haven’t seen him. Not even a trace. I think he was–” Kieron’s voice broke, then, and he cleared his throat, struggling with the words. Something dark and icy, far below all rational thought, lifted its melancholy head and wailed, howled, gnashed its teeth and sobbed brokenly, lost to its anguish.

Garrett saw that ugly thing sink its teeth into Kieron’s heart, and tear it in two.

“I think he was killed before I ever came,” Kieron whispered. “I think I s-saw the last of him laying at Venator’s feet,” he said, his voice rough with horror as he clapped a hand over his mouth, struggling to keep it in. Having said it aloud, Kieron felt heavier, more broken than he’d ever known. “I haven’t had a vision of him since,” he whispered.

He’d been without Jet for a year, after what had been a lifetime with him. His first friend. His first love.

Kieron stood a little taller, swallowing back tears, wiping his face on the back of a dirty sleeve. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I think he’s gone,” Kieron said, lost.

Garrett took a step forward, to lay a hand on Kieron’s shoulder, but the man that had been called ‘Quarter’ did it first, and pulled the young man into a quick, rough embrace. “I’ll buy you a bottle to cry into, cadet,” he growled gently, “Once we get out of this fucking shithole. I’ll even help you find the bottom of it. But for right now, swallow it. I know enough about dead men that says if you don’t lay your hands on the body, you don’t have to believe it. If we can get out of this place, we will look for your friend. One way or another, we’ll get you both home.”

Kieron nodded, clearing his throat. The panicked, broken look in his eyes was shoved back and behind anything and everything else he could hide it behind.

As the last of the trumpeting echoes faded away, Nate re-shouldered his gun and said, “All that stupid noise means our time of being ahead is gone.”

“Then it’s time to just run,” Sha said. “Everyone stick together and run for the northeast.”

Garrett looked at the group and said, “You’ve got enough people here — it’s only him and his Guardian, right? Two against… how many?”

Nate looked at Garrett grimly and said, “Twenty-six. It’s not enough.”

“You’re telling me that twenty-six people can’t take down two? You all are airmen, right? Allied airmen?” Garrett said, somewhat incredulous. “There’s no way he can–”

“He kills with words.” Sha’s voice was sharp, and brooked no argument. “He killed the Maxima’s survivors. Nearly a hundred men and women. Right in front of us. To prove that he could. That our lives were worth so little, because of one man’s revenge. He simply ordered the Maxima’s crew–”

Garrett saw, played back in his head, the bloody retelling of the wedding day celebration — the gift that had been presented to the Prince. He saw the people drop to the ground bloodied at their own hands. He watched the actors and actresses do it again and again for the plaza inhabitants. People cheered and threw coins; he listened to the retelling over and over, but had refused to believe it was literal. He assumed the men and women died because of the Prince — but could not fully accept it was merely because the Prince insisted it happened that way.

“–and then he snapped Hana’s neck with his bare hands.” Djara’s voice was low, angry.

“And took Jules,” Nate said quietly.

“We’ll get her,” Kieron said, and Garrett was surprised to see how fierce the boy looked. “We’ll get out of here, and go back for her. I know where the Prince is keeping her.”

They trudged through the rain, clambering over logs, hurrying along through the growing gloom, silent for awhile, until finally Kieron turned to look at Garrett, marveling. “Professor, I still don’t understand why you’re here. Or… or how, even.”

“I’m here because I should have throttled you instead of letting you leave,” Garrett said. “I believe your gift. I understand what you can do. But I don’t think it means you should hide yourself away. I know you loved Jet. And I know you’d have done anything to keep him safe. But I also know he loved you, and he would rather have been loved than safe. It’s a message I’ve been listening to for years, Brody. Long before I ever knew you. I only just started to listen.”

“But how did you get here?” Kieron said. “You’re a… you’re a professor, Professor. Are you taking us to meet an infantry team, or an airship or something? Have the Allied forces invaded”

“No, Brody,” Garrett said, wearing a tired smile. “I got dropped this side of the Ridge just inside the blighted zone. I’ve come to extract you myself. I didn’t know I’d have more than two of you to handle, but since it looks like you all can fight, I feel like we could stand a chance.”

“Blighted zone? Extracting?” Djara said, piping up, looking interested. “Are you an IT man?”

“I am,” Garrett said. “I ran with an Invasive Tactical unit awhile back.”

“Bullshit,” Nate snorted. “IT Units fight until they’re dead; they don’t retire. And no pilot’s crazy enough to fly any airship through that area.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, dismissive, then headed toward the front of their group as they hurried through the jungle.

Garrett watched the man walk away, shrugging slightly. “Dani’s… crazier than he lets on, I think.”

“Wait a second. Wait,” Sha murmured. “What unit?”

“…Fifty-seventh,” Garrett said, frowning.

“Holy shit,” Sha said, firing off a quick salute as her eyes went wide. “You’re him? You’re Alec Garrett? The Alec Garrett? Shit, maybe we could make a stand.” Many of the crew, turned and looked at the newcomer with astonished eyes, smiling in near worship.

Kieron looked lost, glancing back and forth from Garrett to Sha, and back again, saying, “I… I don’t understand.”

“Kieron, your, uh, professor here’s not just a bookworm,” Sha explained, looking impressed.

Kieron’s eyes went wide, looking at a faintly uncomfortable Garrett as Sha continued, “He’s one of the Alliance’s top assassins.”

* * *

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