"Death Threw a Party"
May. 22nd, 2022 08:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Death Threw a Party"
5/3/1984
I.
A gorgeous Sunday afternoon in early May was wasted on Jeremy Bane. He was so strongly nocturnal in nature that the warm sunlight and mild breeze actually annoyed him. He was much more at home on dark rainswept nights, but he had to follow leads wherever they led. The stolen Nekrosan gem had to be recovered before its innate properties began to manifest. The Dire Wolf had driven for two miles before he pulled over onto a side street in increasing grumpiness. Rows of houses that were all the same. How did these people not pull into the wrong driveway all the time and walk in through a door exactly identical to the one on their own house? Maybe they did and everyone just mumbled politely while the mistaken ones went back out.
He had been told that the Pleasant Valley Park had started as a postwar development to provide afforable housing for returning veterans looking to start families. Not many of those original homes survived. Over the years, they had been steadily replaced by identical pre-fab one-story white board houses all constructed overnight to the same plan. The more he took the scene in, the more it troubled Bane. It seemed creepy. Why didn't some of these people paint the outsides blue or yellow or even purple or pink? Put up tree houses for the kids? There was a small above-ground swimming pool in back of a few of the houses, but even they seemed to have all been purchased and installed by the same company. Each front yard had a tiny garden bordered by red bricks, and they all had roses as the main flowers.
Oh well. It was none of his business. His life was the Midnight War. Still only in his late twenties, the Dire Wolf was so lean and taut that he seemed menacing even when sitting still. The all-black outfit with its turtleneck and sport jacket didn't help, nor did the hostile pale grey eyes in a narrow face. Bane started up his Mustang again and eased out onto the main street for a few more blocks. There it was, Hart Lane. He pulled over and got out of the car. The smell of charcoal burning was everywhere and the sharp tang of hamburgers grilling made his stomach growl.
Kneeling in her tiny garden much like every other tiny front yard garden in the Pleasant Valley Park, an elderly woman sheltered beneath a floppy sun hat and huge round-rimmed purple sunglasses glanced up from where she had been proudly examining her circles of roses. There was one yellow and one white bloom standing out in the center of the burst of crimson. As she saw the ominous man in black approach, her tentative smile faded.
"Mrs Agnes Gray?" asked Bane quietly. He came closer and squatted down so she didn't have to crane her neck up at him. "I'm not from the police. Or the FBI. I'm not looking for Joanne to arrest her."
The old woman had a metal lawn chair behind her and she used its support to lever herself up to her feet, then dropped down to sit on it. "Then just who are you, young man?"
"My name is Bane, Jeremy Bane. To be honest, I'm concerned with retrieving that purple jewel that is in Joanne's possession. I don't care how she obtained it, that's not my business. I'm not out to arrest her. But she is in real danger as long as she holds it." He did not move closer, facing Mrs Gray over her rose garden.
"I don't understand. Joanne is just fifteen, she is only a girl..."
"The owners of that gem are terrible people," Bane told the woman. "Worse than Mafia mobsters. Worse than ex-Nazis or Russian KGB agents. They are killers when there is no need to kill. For her sake, I need to get that gem so they come after me instead of her."
Mrs Gray studied his face thoughtfully. "I don't know why but something in your voice convinces me. You're genuinely worried about her. Do you even know her?"
"No, not at all. But I have seen too many innocents after the Nekrosim got their claws on them. Joanne is your niece. Can you tell me where I can find her?"
The elderly woman lowered her head. She did not answer for so long that Bane thought she had fallen asleep, but finally she looked up. "I don't know why I should trust you, son. But I've learned to follow my instincts. She's probably with her sorta boyfriend, Gary. He lives almost on the other side of the Park, right before you reach the highway. 512 Maple Street. His father Jack Greene drives a silver Carmen Ghia."
"Thank you, ma'am," Bane said, already up and heading back for his car. "I'll do everything I can to see no one gets hurt."
"I believe you," Mrs Gray said to herself as she gingerly got down again to kneel over her roses.
II.
In a few minutes, the Dire Wolf came to a stop at a house with the number 512 and the name GREENE on the mailbox. There was no car in the short driveway and no cook-out going. Leaning up against the side of that house, cradling a beat-up Sunburst guitar, a teenage boy was picking at the strings sullenly.
"...I have no tears to cry for her," he sang in a clear tenor that actually had potential. The boy looked about eighteen, skinny in tight jeans and a striped T-shirt. His light brown hair hung down over his lowered face as he paused at a wrong note and started again. Suddenly he seemed aware of the stranger approaching and glared up with a total lack of welcome.
"No one's home, mister," he announced. "My folks went to town for the day, and my sister went with 'em. I sure don't know you."
"Gary Greene," the Dire Wolf said in a sharp tone. "Pay attention. Joanne is in mortal danger. She might get killed today unless you help me."
That snapped the kid out of his pout. He sat up, placing the guitar to one side. "What? Tell me more. Who are you anyway?"
"I'm an investigator into unusual phenomena," Bane told him. "Your girlfriend has somehow gotten hold of a rare and valuable purple gem. Its owners are dangerous and they are searching for her."
"She ain't my girlfriend. All she ever gave me was words that never were true. I wish I'd never believed her when she opened her mouth."
"Knock it off. I'm talking about preventing her from torture and a slow agonizing death at the hands of experts." There was absolute conviction in Bane's voice and it slapped at Gary like a splash of ice water. "Where is she?"
"Far as I know, she walked to the train station. Three miles down the highway. She was going to a party at the Little Deep." Gary jumped nimbly to his feet. "What time is it?"
"Just after eleven."
"Aw, she's in Clarksville by now. The last train going there stops at our station at ten-fifteen."
"We have to find her. Come with me, I need you as a guide." Without looking to see if he would be obeyed, the Dire Wolf turned on his heel and strode quickly toward his car. As he reached the Mustang, Gary Greene rushed up along side him. Bane opened the passenger door for the boy and went around to get behind the wheel.
"All right, all right, tell me more," demanded the boy. "Who are these bad people? Why would they wanna hurt Joanne?"
Hitting the main highway, which ran parallel to railroad tracks at that point, Bane accelerated sharply going east. "They're called Nekrosim. Sick minds. They love Death as a concept and they're masters at causing it. As much as they want to retrieve that gem, killing your girlfriend will be the joy of their twisted lives."
"She's not my girlfriend!" repeated Gary. "She put me in the friendzone. Last night, she told me, 'don't say you love me, say you like me.' That's about as clear as you could ask."
Bane's sharp pale eyes stabbed critically at the high school boy next to him. "Still, you don't really want to see her come to any harm, right?"
"Hell, no. I thought she was the right girl for me. I've been looking long as I can say and I thought she just might be the one." He let out a long unsteady sigh. "But who are you exactly, mister? You're not with the police?"
"No," Bane answered. "I'm a private investigator. When that purple stone was stolen, it passed through several hands. Dealers, collectors. The Nekrosim and I have been in a race to track it down first. I don't know how Joanne ended up with it. Maybe that doesn't matter right now."
"Guess not," Gary mumbled. "See where the road forks up there. We go right. Clarksville's about ten miles yet."
"Got it. What is this Little Deep you mentioned?"
"Ah, it's a swimming hole in the woods. We go there a lot in the summer. The water's still too cold to get in, but kids'll be drinking beer and smoking pot and fooling around like they always do. And Joanne'll be there.. without me..."
"Listen!" snapped Bane. "Take a second. Let this sink in. If the Nekrosim show up, they will bring Human mercenaries with them. There may be shooting. There will certainly be violence. You get to cover and stay hidden, no matter what you see. Got it?"
Gary Greene turned to stare at the intense older man. "What about you?"
"This is my trade," the Dire Wolf said. "It's what I do for a living."
III.
The dirt road ended in a meadow big enough to hold a baseball game in. Bane stopped the Mustang and shut off the engine. "Okay, let's get out," he snapped shortly and Gary complied.
"Over there, by those birch trees?" the boy said. "That's the path leading to Little Deep. Maybe half a mile, mostly downhill. The sheriff was talking about putting up NO TRESPASSING signs to keep kids out but he hasn't done it yet."
"Got it. Look, Gary. I want you to stay here by the car. Get out of sight and stay that way. We're dealing with experienced killers here." The Dire Wolf's voice was hard and gave no room for debate. "I'm going to investigate. You stay put, get it?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," replied the teen. "Just hurry."
Without further comment, Bane strode quickly through the knee-high grass and went behind an oak. For a few minutes, Gary kept watching to see him emerge but somehow the man in black was gone. He had vanished like a stage magic trick.
"Whoa," the boy whispered. "That's cool. How did he DO that?" Reluctantly he went back to the car and plopped down to lean back against its bumper. He had expected just another drowsy Sunday here in Pleasant Valley, eating hamburgers and sneaking beers while a different TV blared nonsense in every room of the house. But this...! He was getting a glimpse of a dangerous secret world that went on all around while the adults were stupidly unaware. This guy Bane had mentioned something called the Midnight War. Just the phrase itself stirred his hyperactive imagination.
Moving quickly through the woods parallel to the footpath, the Dire Wolf had every sense primed. Without slowing, he reached to the belt holster behind his left hip and drew the long-barreled Smith & Wesson 38. He thumbed the safety off. This was not safe procedure for carrying a gun but he expected to be heading into immediate danger. He replaced the revolver to its holster and kept moving.
Years of Kumundu training at Tel Shai had taught him how to move silently while still making good time. It was where and how he placed his feet, the way he twisted to avoid brushing up against branches, his slow steady breathing even as he moved at almost a run. The path led downhill. Bane was aware of the guard long before he neared the man, and he slowed his pace to become even more stealthy.
There the man was, standing next to a tree and holding an unlit cigarette. The tug was big and imposing enough, but slightly soft-looking around the waist. He wore ordinary clothes, work boots and jeans and a loose white polo shirt. From the way those jeans sagged on one side, there was a pistol stuck in the waistband under the shirt. As Bane stole up behind him, the guard raised the cigarette to his mouth and dug in a pocket for a lighter. That was the perfect opportunity. Directly behind the sentry, the Dire Wolf brought up his open rigid hand and whipped it down like a hatchet at the back of the man's neck. There was a low cracking noise and the guard would have fallen in a heap if Bane had not caught him and lowered him to the dry dirt.
For a few more seconds, as he held his breath to enhanced his hearing, Bane waited for a sign of anyone else nearby. Nothing. He tugged the gun from the guard's belt and found it was a .45 Colt automatic. None of the pockets held a spare magazine or other weapon. The Dire Wolf unloaded the gun and placed it in a thicket. The man's pockets held no wallet, no keys, nothing to identify him. From the rasping sound of his breathing, the guard would be out for quite a while and in fact might not wake up again. Getting knocked unconscious was never safe. Bane had no sympathy for the man. Hiring out to the murderous Nekrosim put mercenaries beyond the pale. He rose and sped off again down the slope. Now he knew he on the track.
In another few minutes, he was creeping up on a clearing. Here a stream coming down from the other side emptied in a natural pool perfect for a swimming hole. A flat rock ledge twenty feet to each side protruded out over the water, and it was here that the skull-faced men loomed up over their prisoners.
Bane studied the scene grimly. There were five teenagers in sight, all of them sitting up on the ground near the water with their hands tied behind them and gags in their mouths. They were wearing only swimsuits, except for one boy who had on jeans and a T-shirt. Piled off to one side on the rocks edging the pool were their belongings.. a plastic ice chest filled with beer and soda, a boom box, some towels and a jumble of shirts, sneakers and socks.
One of the kids was already dead, he saw. Her body stretched out on the rock ledge in a wide splash of blood that was drying in the sun. A thin girl with short dark hair, stripped naked, lying face up. Her chest had been opened from collarbone to hips and her lungs were spread out but still attached in what the Nekrosim called 'red wings.' The other teens were paralyzed in shock and terror at what they had seen. Bane drew in still closer, almost near enough to have touched one of the Nekrosim.
Four of the skull-faced men stood side by side over the teens, wearing the ankle-length robes of coarse material traditional for their Race. They had thrown back their cowls to reveal nightmarish faces. Nekrosim resembled living skulls with the bones barely covered by taut lifeless-looking skin. There was no hair on their heads, not even eyebrows on the pronounced brow ledges. The Nekrosim had a tiny snubs for noses, no external ears outside the holes and wide mouths that showed yellowed teeth when they grinned, as they were doing now.
Two of them held small copper-bladed sickles in their bony hands. They had no other weapons visible.
It was the fifth skull-faced man, standing apart from the others, that gave Bane a surge of cold fury at the recognition. This one wore a dark one-piece jumpsuit, with the cuffs tucked into ankle-length boots. A gunbelt held a 1911 broomhandle Mauser on the right side and a seven-inch commando knife on the left. On the chest of the jumpsuit was sewn in white an esoteric emblem that resembled an inverted Y in an oval... the Nekrosan symbol for 'danger.'
Golgora. Again. This was the third time Bane had encountered the most feared agent the Nekrosim had. Golgora was a sort of terrorist for the death-oriented religion of his Race. He was an assassin, a slaver, a spy. It was Golgora who dealt with their Human mercenaries and it was he who was their ringleader.
The Dire Wolf slowly drew his revolver and took a step to one side for a clearer shot. This monster had a lot to pay for. As he raised his gun, he saw the four Nekrosan priests move up onto the ledge to slide the girl's corpse into the water with a loud splash. She sank at once as water filled her op\en body cavity.
Despite their gags, whimpering and sobbing could still be heard from the remaining teens. When the skull-faced men came down to select one of them, the kids wriggled and tried to draw away but were helpless. The robed priests seized a tall lanky boy by the arms and legs and carried his struggling form back up to the ledge. With great care, even reverence in their twisted way, the Nekrosim lowered him down onto the sticky puddle of blood that the girl had left beind.
Forming a circle around the boy, the skull-faced men turned to regard their leader. Golgora remained on the loose rocks by the edge of the pool, arms folded and grinning smugly. The priests held up their loosely clasped hands in a salute and waited for him to speak.
"How happy are these children who have joined us," the monster announced in a strangely mellow tone. "Today, they go to solve the Great Mystery. They go to enjoy the Experience Which Comes Last. That one of them stole our purple gem of consecration may have seemed like petty pilfering to her at the time. She could not have known the glory she was bringing to herself and her friends."
The priests mumbled a ritual response which could not be clearly heard. Golgora raised a scrawny hand and pointed at the trembling boy on the ledge. "Bless and honor this child," he said. "Place his feet on the path from which there is no returning-"
At that point, two of the Nekrosim held the wriggling boy down as the other pair flourished their copper sickles high overhead. Four gunshots detonated in rapid succession, deafening in their unexpected sharpness. The four Nekrosim convulsed and fell, all hitting the rock ledge at almost the exact same instant. Bane had not tried anything tricky, just standard shots for the main body mass and he had hit them all the chest or abdomen.
In the next split-second, the Dire Wolf swung around and snapped off his last bullet at Golgora but the skull-faced man had reacted with startling quickness. His Mauser was rising and firing even as Bane's Smith & Wesson cracked for the fifth time. Both men were knocked backward by the sledge-hammer punch of close range hits.
The silk-thin Trom armor Bane wore under his clothing dispersed any impact over its entire surface. He was knocked down and would be bruised where the bullet had struck, but he did not even have the wind knocked out of him. Rolling as soon as he landed, he was back up on one knee and snatching up the Smith & Wesson from where it had fallen next to him. But he froze in position before touching his weapon.
IV.
Golgora had kept his footing and he had the extended barrel of his Mauser aimed directly at Bane's head from less than twenty feet away. The skull-faced man rubbed his chest with a wince. "No, no, move not an inch, Dire Wolf. I'm certain you can reload your gun quickly indeed, but not before I can squeeze my own trigger. And I will be sure to send daylight through your head this time."
Remaining still, Bane raced through possible courses of action but none seemed workable right that second. If he were given even the slightest distraction... "I didn't expect to find you in the real world again, to be honest."
"Oh, I welcome my duties for our Queen," the skull-faced man answered, hand steady as he watched his enemy. "That purple jewel has deep ceremonial value. It should never have left Perjena and that Human child should never have gotten near it. But that has been corrected now and she will make amends."
"Seems like you're wearing some protection," Bane said, playing for a moment to shift his weight and draw one leg imperceptibly up under him more. "No blood."
"We both wear armor, my old friend. In my case, merely a simple plate of Nekrosan alloy over my vitals. Be honest. Don't you find this situation amusing?"
The Dire Wolf had managed to get his right foot planted flat on the ground while the two of them faced each other. He was sure Golgora saw what he intended but the monster had not fired yet. "Amusing? Hell no! You just murdered a young girl," he snapped.
"These young ones planned on a party, an idle day of frivolity. Drinking, flirting, dancing. The shallow pursuits of those who think they will live forever. But we Nekrosim know better. It is always Death who throws the party... and everyone must attend when invited. Doesn't that seem droll to you?"
"No. I understand your Race and its sick religion, all right, but I don't think much of it. It's just too bad you personally haven't gone to meet the Death you claim to admire so much." As he spoke, Bane touched the warm surface of the rocky ground with his fingertips, readying them to take his weight.
"Ah, you are about to try something rash," Golgora smirked. He extended his arm a bit more and grinned hideously. "You have offended my people many times, Dire Wolf. I will gain great status when I return carrying your head-OW!"
A rock the size of a fist whistled through the air and smacked hard against the Nekrosan's forearm. Even that unexpected agony did not make his lose his grip on the Mauser but certainly his attention was broken and he clutched that bruised arm with his other hand. In a blur of sudden motion, Bane was up and had closed the gap between them. He seized the back of that hairless head with both hands and yanked it down into a knee that was rising with murderous speed. Golgora reeled from the crunching bloww, his gun dropping from a limp hand. Bane had barely lowered his boot to the rocks before he slammed his knee back up again into the skullface.
The Nekrosan warrior dropped heavily backwards, not even trying to break his fall when his head hit the ground. Dark blood ran from a crushed nose. Even as Golgora fell, Bane swerved and snatched up the Mauser just in case, but he saw in an instant that his enemy would not be rising any time soon.
Straightening up, the Dire Wolf spotted Gary Greene leaning up against a silver birch nearby. The boy's mouth hung open and there was a dazed expression in his eyes as the scene began to sink into his consciousness. "Those men...?"
Bane walked over and gripped Gary's shoulder, shaking his slightly. "You threw that rock? Thanks, that was a lucky shot."
"Lucky nothing," the kid answered in a distant voice. "I'm the best pitcher in the school. Everyone is tied up? Joanne, Tommy..? And those guys are all dead? What's wrong with their FACES?! They look like ghouls or something..."
Worried that the boy was going to go into shock, Bane squeezed his shoulder hard enough to hurt. The pain got his attention. "Listen," he said. "I appreciate you coming to help, even when I told you to stay put. But now we have--"
"I said to myself, 'what am I doing hangin' round?' My friends were in trouble. I don't... I mean, what happened here? Who are these men?" He suddenly leaned forward as he finally spotted the body of the victim just below the surface of the pool. "Is that Valleri?"
"I'm sorry, she was already dead when I got here," Bane began.
Gary cut him off with an unsteady wail. "She's been cut open!"
Finally, the Dire Wolf forced the young man down to a seated position on the ground. "Breathe deeply. That's better. Put your head forward. Now just sit for a moment. I'm going to get your friends untied."
"I wanna help..."
"You're all shaken up. Just sit. I'll bring them over as they're free and you can all talk each other through this." Sliding one of the silver-bladed daggers from its sheath beneath his sleeve, Bane carefully started slicing through the cords binding the teenagers and undoing their gags. As each was freed, Bane ushered them over to where Gary sat watching. He propped them up against each other, knowing the physical contact would help. They began talking in low hesitant voices. At least none of them seemed about to go into hysterics.
When he had them all assembled in a miserable huddle, the Dire Wolf unclipped his Link from his belt and patched into the phone system. This was years before cell phones would become common and the teens watched him in puzzlement. Bane called the nearest hospital and requested an ambulance to the spot. Then he called the sheriff's department and reported a multiple homicide and kidnap scene, speaking as calmly as if reporting a flat tire.
"Help is on the way, you guys," he told the kids who were staring at him blankly as if stunned. "The paramedics will take you in for observation. I'm sure they will offer you counseling. You've been through hell. I'll stay here while the cops investigate." He didn't tell them, but he also was going to call in Department 21 Black. Although he disliked dealing with the unit, they were sometimes necessary. They would put a lid on the horrors as much as possible, keeping it out of newspapers and TV in an outright cover-up. The police hated having their cases confiscated by a branch of the FBI but maybe in this case they might be relieved not to have to explain it all.
"It's a nightmare," the girl named Joanne said as she began to cry. "The man with the face like a skull. He said this was my fault because I swiped that jewel. I didn't know. I couldn't have known. Poor Valleri. Look at her!"
Bane strode over to where Golgora was starting to stir and dug through the pockets of the jumpsuit. He pulled out a small oval gem the deep purple of a grape, highly polished. "No, you couldn't have known," he told her. "To be honest, these animals are always looking for an excuse to kill. It's all they care about." He got down on one knee and held the Nekrosan gem firmly in place on a flat rock. Then, using the heavy butt of Golgora's Mauser, he smashed it until only dust remained that he brushed away.
5/15/2016
5/3/1984
I.
A gorgeous Sunday afternoon in early May was wasted on Jeremy Bane. He was so strongly nocturnal in nature that the warm sunlight and mild breeze actually annoyed him. He was much more at home on dark rainswept nights, but he had to follow leads wherever they led. The stolen Nekrosan gem had to be recovered before its innate properties began to manifest. The Dire Wolf had driven for two miles before he pulled over onto a side street in increasing grumpiness. Rows of houses that were all the same. How did these people not pull into the wrong driveway all the time and walk in through a door exactly identical to the one on their own house? Maybe they did and everyone just mumbled politely while the mistaken ones went back out.
He had been told that the Pleasant Valley Park had started as a postwar development to provide afforable housing for returning veterans looking to start families. Not many of those original homes survived. Over the years, they had been steadily replaced by identical pre-fab one-story white board houses all constructed overnight to the same plan. The more he took the scene in, the more it troubled Bane. It seemed creepy. Why didn't some of these people paint the outsides blue or yellow or even purple or pink? Put up tree houses for the kids? There was a small above-ground swimming pool in back of a few of the houses, but even they seemed to have all been purchased and installed by the same company. Each front yard had a tiny garden bordered by red bricks, and they all had roses as the main flowers.
Oh well. It was none of his business. His life was the Midnight War. Still only in his late twenties, the Dire Wolf was so lean and taut that he seemed menacing even when sitting still. The all-black outfit with its turtleneck and sport jacket didn't help, nor did the hostile pale grey eyes in a narrow face. Bane started up his Mustang again and eased out onto the main street for a few more blocks. There it was, Hart Lane. He pulled over and got out of the car. The smell of charcoal burning was everywhere and the sharp tang of hamburgers grilling made his stomach growl.
Kneeling in her tiny garden much like every other tiny front yard garden in the Pleasant Valley Park, an elderly woman sheltered beneath a floppy sun hat and huge round-rimmed purple sunglasses glanced up from where she had been proudly examining her circles of roses. There was one yellow and one white bloom standing out in the center of the burst of crimson. As she saw the ominous man in black approach, her tentative smile faded.
"Mrs Agnes Gray?" asked Bane quietly. He came closer and squatted down so she didn't have to crane her neck up at him. "I'm not from the police. Or the FBI. I'm not looking for Joanne to arrest her."
The old woman had a metal lawn chair behind her and she used its support to lever herself up to her feet, then dropped down to sit on it. "Then just who are you, young man?"
"My name is Bane, Jeremy Bane. To be honest, I'm concerned with retrieving that purple jewel that is in Joanne's possession. I don't care how she obtained it, that's not my business. I'm not out to arrest her. But she is in real danger as long as she holds it." He did not move closer, facing Mrs Gray over her rose garden.
"I don't understand. Joanne is just fifteen, she is only a girl..."
"The owners of that gem are terrible people," Bane told the woman. "Worse than Mafia mobsters. Worse than ex-Nazis or Russian KGB agents. They are killers when there is no need to kill. For her sake, I need to get that gem so they come after me instead of her."
Mrs Gray studied his face thoughtfully. "I don't know why but something in your voice convinces me. You're genuinely worried about her. Do you even know her?"
"No, not at all. But I have seen too many innocents after the Nekrosim got their claws on them. Joanne is your niece. Can you tell me where I can find her?"
The elderly woman lowered her head. She did not answer for so long that Bane thought she had fallen asleep, but finally she looked up. "I don't know why I should trust you, son. But I've learned to follow my instincts. She's probably with her sorta boyfriend, Gary. He lives almost on the other side of the Park, right before you reach the highway. 512 Maple Street. His father Jack Greene drives a silver Carmen Ghia."
"Thank you, ma'am," Bane said, already up and heading back for his car. "I'll do everything I can to see no one gets hurt."
"I believe you," Mrs Gray said to herself as she gingerly got down again to kneel over her roses.
II.
In a few minutes, the Dire Wolf came to a stop at a house with the number 512 and the name GREENE on the mailbox. There was no car in the short driveway and no cook-out going. Leaning up against the side of that house, cradling a beat-up Sunburst guitar, a teenage boy was picking at the strings sullenly.
"...I have no tears to cry for her," he sang in a clear tenor that actually had potential. The boy looked about eighteen, skinny in tight jeans and a striped T-shirt. His light brown hair hung down over his lowered face as he paused at a wrong note and started again. Suddenly he seemed aware of the stranger approaching and glared up with a total lack of welcome.
"No one's home, mister," he announced. "My folks went to town for the day, and my sister went with 'em. I sure don't know you."
"Gary Greene," the Dire Wolf said in a sharp tone. "Pay attention. Joanne is in mortal danger. She might get killed today unless you help me."
That snapped the kid out of his pout. He sat up, placing the guitar to one side. "What? Tell me more. Who are you anyway?"
"I'm an investigator into unusual phenomena," Bane told him. "Your girlfriend has somehow gotten hold of a rare and valuable purple gem. Its owners are dangerous and they are searching for her."
"She ain't my girlfriend. All she ever gave me was words that never were true. I wish I'd never believed her when she opened her mouth."
"Knock it off. I'm talking about preventing her from torture and a slow agonizing death at the hands of experts." There was absolute conviction in Bane's voice and it slapped at Gary like a splash of ice water. "Where is she?"
"Far as I know, she walked to the train station. Three miles down the highway. She was going to a party at the Little Deep." Gary jumped nimbly to his feet. "What time is it?"
"Just after eleven."
"Aw, she's in Clarksville by now. The last train going there stops at our station at ten-fifteen."
"We have to find her. Come with me, I need you as a guide." Without looking to see if he would be obeyed, the Dire Wolf turned on his heel and strode quickly toward his car. As he reached the Mustang, Gary Greene rushed up along side him. Bane opened the passenger door for the boy and went around to get behind the wheel.
"All right, all right, tell me more," demanded the boy. "Who are these bad people? Why would they wanna hurt Joanne?"
Hitting the main highway, which ran parallel to railroad tracks at that point, Bane accelerated sharply going east. "They're called Nekrosim. Sick minds. They love Death as a concept and they're masters at causing it. As much as they want to retrieve that gem, killing your girlfriend will be the joy of their twisted lives."
"She's not my girlfriend!" repeated Gary. "She put me in the friendzone. Last night, she told me, 'don't say you love me, say you like me.' That's about as clear as you could ask."
Bane's sharp pale eyes stabbed critically at the high school boy next to him. "Still, you don't really want to see her come to any harm, right?"
"Hell, no. I thought she was the right girl for me. I've been looking long as I can say and I thought she just might be the one." He let out a long unsteady sigh. "But who are you exactly, mister? You're not with the police?"
"No," Bane answered. "I'm a private investigator. When that purple stone was stolen, it passed through several hands. Dealers, collectors. The Nekrosim and I have been in a race to track it down first. I don't know how Joanne ended up with it. Maybe that doesn't matter right now."
"Guess not," Gary mumbled. "See where the road forks up there. We go right. Clarksville's about ten miles yet."
"Got it. What is this Little Deep you mentioned?"
"Ah, it's a swimming hole in the woods. We go there a lot in the summer. The water's still too cold to get in, but kids'll be drinking beer and smoking pot and fooling around like they always do. And Joanne'll be there.. without me..."
"Listen!" snapped Bane. "Take a second. Let this sink in. If the Nekrosim show up, they will bring Human mercenaries with them. There may be shooting. There will certainly be violence. You get to cover and stay hidden, no matter what you see. Got it?"
Gary Greene turned to stare at the intense older man. "What about you?"
"This is my trade," the Dire Wolf said. "It's what I do for a living."
III.
The dirt road ended in a meadow big enough to hold a baseball game in. Bane stopped the Mustang and shut off the engine. "Okay, let's get out," he snapped shortly and Gary complied.
"Over there, by those birch trees?" the boy said. "That's the path leading to Little Deep. Maybe half a mile, mostly downhill. The sheriff was talking about putting up NO TRESPASSING signs to keep kids out but he hasn't done it yet."
"Got it. Look, Gary. I want you to stay here by the car. Get out of sight and stay that way. We're dealing with experienced killers here." The Dire Wolf's voice was hard and gave no room for debate. "I'm going to investigate. You stay put, get it?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," replied the teen. "Just hurry."
Without further comment, Bane strode quickly through the knee-high grass and went behind an oak. For a few minutes, Gary kept watching to see him emerge but somehow the man in black was gone. He had vanished like a stage magic trick.
"Whoa," the boy whispered. "That's cool. How did he DO that?" Reluctantly he went back to the car and plopped down to lean back against its bumper. He had expected just another drowsy Sunday here in Pleasant Valley, eating hamburgers and sneaking beers while a different TV blared nonsense in every room of the house. But this...! He was getting a glimpse of a dangerous secret world that went on all around while the adults were stupidly unaware. This guy Bane had mentioned something called the Midnight War. Just the phrase itself stirred his hyperactive imagination.
Moving quickly through the woods parallel to the footpath, the Dire Wolf had every sense primed. Without slowing, he reached to the belt holster behind his left hip and drew the long-barreled Smith & Wesson 38. He thumbed the safety off. This was not safe procedure for carrying a gun but he expected to be heading into immediate danger. He replaced the revolver to its holster and kept moving.
Years of Kumundu training at Tel Shai had taught him how to move silently while still making good time. It was where and how he placed his feet, the way he twisted to avoid brushing up against branches, his slow steady breathing even as he moved at almost a run. The path led downhill. Bane was aware of the guard long before he neared the man, and he slowed his pace to become even more stealthy.
There the man was, standing next to a tree and holding an unlit cigarette. The tug was big and imposing enough, but slightly soft-looking around the waist. He wore ordinary clothes, work boots and jeans and a loose white polo shirt. From the way those jeans sagged on one side, there was a pistol stuck in the waistband under the shirt. As Bane stole up behind him, the guard raised the cigarette to his mouth and dug in a pocket for a lighter. That was the perfect opportunity. Directly behind the sentry, the Dire Wolf brought up his open rigid hand and whipped it down like a hatchet at the back of the man's neck. There was a low cracking noise and the guard would have fallen in a heap if Bane had not caught him and lowered him to the dry dirt.
For a few more seconds, as he held his breath to enhanced his hearing, Bane waited for a sign of anyone else nearby. Nothing. He tugged the gun from the guard's belt and found it was a .45 Colt automatic. None of the pockets held a spare magazine or other weapon. The Dire Wolf unloaded the gun and placed it in a thicket. The man's pockets held no wallet, no keys, nothing to identify him. From the rasping sound of his breathing, the guard would be out for quite a while and in fact might not wake up again. Getting knocked unconscious was never safe. Bane had no sympathy for the man. Hiring out to the murderous Nekrosim put mercenaries beyond the pale. He rose and sped off again down the slope. Now he knew he on the track.
In another few minutes, he was creeping up on a clearing. Here a stream coming down from the other side emptied in a natural pool perfect for a swimming hole. A flat rock ledge twenty feet to each side protruded out over the water, and it was here that the skull-faced men loomed up over their prisoners.
Bane studied the scene grimly. There were five teenagers in sight, all of them sitting up on the ground near the water with their hands tied behind them and gags in their mouths. They were wearing only swimsuits, except for one boy who had on jeans and a T-shirt. Piled off to one side on the rocks edging the pool were their belongings.. a plastic ice chest filled with beer and soda, a boom box, some towels and a jumble of shirts, sneakers and socks.
One of the kids was already dead, he saw. Her body stretched out on the rock ledge in a wide splash of blood that was drying in the sun. A thin girl with short dark hair, stripped naked, lying face up. Her chest had been opened from collarbone to hips and her lungs were spread out but still attached in what the Nekrosim called 'red wings.' The other teens were paralyzed in shock and terror at what they had seen. Bane drew in still closer, almost near enough to have touched one of the Nekrosim.
Four of the skull-faced men stood side by side over the teens, wearing the ankle-length robes of coarse material traditional for their Race. They had thrown back their cowls to reveal nightmarish faces. Nekrosim resembled living skulls with the bones barely covered by taut lifeless-looking skin. There was no hair on their heads, not even eyebrows on the pronounced brow ledges. The Nekrosim had a tiny snubs for noses, no external ears outside the holes and wide mouths that showed yellowed teeth when they grinned, as they were doing now.
Two of them held small copper-bladed sickles in their bony hands. They had no other weapons visible.
It was the fifth skull-faced man, standing apart from the others, that gave Bane a surge of cold fury at the recognition. This one wore a dark one-piece jumpsuit, with the cuffs tucked into ankle-length boots. A gunbelt held a 1911 broomhandle Mauser on the right side and a seven-inch commando knife on the left. On the chest of the jumpsuit was sewn in white an esoteric emblem that resembled an inverted Y in an oval... the Nekrosan symbol for 'danger.'
Golgora. Again. This was the third time Bane had encountered the most feared agent the Nekrosim had. Golgora was a sort of terrorist for the death-oriented religion of his Race. He was an assassin, a slaver, a spy. It was Golgora who dealt with their Human mercenaries and it was he who was their ringleader.
The Dire Wolf slowly drew his revolver and took a step to one side for a clearer shot. This monster had a lot to pay for. As he raised his gun, he saw the four Nekrosan priests move up onto the ledge to slide the girl's corpse into the water with a loud splash. She sank at once as water filled her op\en body cavity.
Despite their gags, whimpering and sobbing could still be heard from the remaining teens. When the skull-faced men came down to select one of them, the kids wriggled and tried to draw away but were helpless. The robed priests seized a tall lanky boy by the arms and legs and carried his struggling form back up to the ledge. With great care, even reverence in their twisted way, the Nekrosim lowered him down onto the sticky puddle of blood that the girl had left beind.
Forming a circle around the boy, the skull-faced men turned to regard their leader. Golgora remained on the loose rocks by the edge of the pool, arms folded and grinning smugly. The priests held up their loosely clasped hands in a salute and waited for him to speak.
"How happy are these children who have joined us," the monster announced in a strangely mellow tone. "Today, they go to solve the Great Mystery. They go to enjoy the Experience Which Comes Last. That one of them stole our purple gem of consecration may have seemed like petty pilfering to her at the time. She could not have known the glory she was bringing to herself and her friends."
The priests mumbled a ritual response which could not be clearly heard. Golgora raised a scrawny hand and pointed at the trembling boy on the ledge. "Bless and honor this child," he said. "Place his feet on the path from which there is no returning-"
At that point, two of the Nekrosim held the wriggling boy down as the other pair flourished their copper sickles high overhead. Four gunshots detonated in rapid succession, deafening in their unexpected sharpness. The four Nekrosim convulsed and fell, all hitting the rock ledge at almost the exact same instant. Bane had not tried anything tricky, just standard shots for the main body mass and he had hit them all the chest or abdomen.
In the next split-second, the Dire Wolf swung around and snapped off his last bullet at Golgora but the skull-faced man had reacted with startling quickness. His Mauser was rising and firing even as Bane's Smith & Wesson cracked for the fifth time. Both men were knocked backward by the sledge-hammer punch of close range hits.
The silk-thin Trom armor Bane wore under his clothing dispersed any impact over its entire surface. He was knocked down and would be bruised where the bullet had struck, but he did not even have the wind knocked out of him. Rolling as soon as he landed, he was back up on one knee and snatching up the Smith & Wesson from where it had fallen next to him. But he froze in position before touching his weapon.
IV.
Golgora had kept his footing and he had the extended barrel of his Mauser aimed directly at Bane's head from less than twenty feet away. The skull-faced man rubbed his chest with a wince. "No, no, move not an inch, Dire Wolf. I'm certain you can reload your gun quickly indeed, but not before I can squeeze my own trigger. And I will be sure to send daylight through your head this time."
Remaining still, Bane raced through possible courses of action but none seemed workable right that second. If he were given even the slightest distraction... "I didn't expect to find you in the real world again, to be honest."
"Oh, I welcome my duties for our Queen," the skull-faced man answered, hand steady as he watched his enemy. "That purple jewel has deep ceremonial value. It should never have left Perjena and that Human child should never have gotten near it. But that has been corrected now and she will make amends."
"Seems like you're wearing some protection," Bane said, playing for a moment to shift his weight and draw one leg imperceptibly up under him more. "No blood."
"We both wear armor, my old friend. In my case, merely a simple plate of Nekrosan alloy over my vitals. Be honest. Don't you find this situation amusing?"
The Dire Wolf had managed to get his right foot planted flat on the ground while the two of them faced each other. He was sure Golgora saw what he intended but the monster had not fired yet. "Amusing? Hell no! You just murdered a young girl," he snapped.
"These young ones planned on a party, an idle day of frivolity. Drinking, flirting, dancing. The shallow pursuits of those who think they will live forever. But we Nekrosim know better. It is always Death who throws the party... and everyone must attend when invited. Doesn't that seem droll to you?"
"No. I understand your Race and its sick religion, all right, but I don't think much of it. It's just too bad you personally haven't gone to meet the Death you claim to admire so much." As he spoke, Bane touched the warm surface of the rocky ground with his fingertips, readying them to take his weight.
"Ah, you are about to try something rash," Golgora smirked. He extended his arm a bit more and grinned hideously. "You have offended my people many times, Dire Wolf. I will gain great status when I return carrying your head-OW!"
A rock the size of a fist whistled through the air and smacked hard against the Nekrosan's forearm. Even that unexpected agony did not make his lose his grip on the Mauser but certainly his attention was broken and he clutched that bruised arm with his other hand. In a blur of sudden motion, Bane was up and had closed the gap between them. He seized the back of that hairless head with both hands and yanked it down into a knee that was rising with murderous speed. Golgora reeled from the crunching bloww, his gun dropping from a limp hand. Bane had barely lowered his boot to the rocks before he slammed his knee back up again into the skullface.
The Nekrosan warrior dropped heavily backwards, not even trying to break his fall when his head hit the ground. Dark blood ran from a crushed nose. Even as Golgora fell, Bane swerved and snatched up the Mauser just in case, but he saw in an instant that his enemy would not be rising any time soon.
Straightening up, the Dire Wolf spotted Gary Greene leaning up against a silver birch nearby. The boy's mouth hung open and there was a dazed expression in his eyes as the scene began to sink into his consciousness. "Those men...?"
Bane walked over and gripped Gary's shoulder, shaking his slightly. "You threw that rock? Thanks, that was a lucky shot."
"Lucky nothing," the kid answered in a distant voice. "I'm the best pitcher in the school. Everyone is tied up? Joanne, Tommy..? And those guys are all dead? What's wrong with their FACES?! They look like ghouls or something..."
Worried that the boy was going to go into shock, Bane squeezed his shoulder hard enough to hurt. The pain got his attention. "Listen," he said. "I appreciate you coming to help, even when I told you to stay put. But now we have--"
"I said to myself, 'what am I doing hangin' round?' My friends were in trouble. I don't... I mean, what happened here? Who are these men?" He suddenly leaned forward as he finally spotted the body of the victim just below the surface of the pool. "Is that Valleri?"
"I'm sorry, she was already dead when I got here," Bane began.
Gary cut him off with an unsteady wail. "She's been cut open!"
Finally, the Dire Wolf forced the young man down to a seated position on the ground. "Breathe deeply. That's better. Put your head forward. Now just sit for a moment. I'm going to get your friends untied."
"I wanna help..."
"You're all shaken up. Just sit. I'll bring them over as they're free and you can all talk each other through this." Sliding one of the silver-bladed daggers from its sheath beneath his sleeve, Bane carefully started slicing through the cords binding the teenagers and undoing their gags. As each was freed, Bane ushered them over to where Gary sat watching. He propped them up against each other, knowing the physical contact would help. They began talking in low hesitant voices. At least none of them seemed about to go into hysterics.
When he had them all assembled in a miserable huddle, the Dire Wolf unclipped his Link from his belt and patched into the phone system. This was years before cell phones would become common and the teens watched him in puzzlement. Bane called the nearest hospital and requested an ambulance to the spot. Then he called the sheriff's department and reported a multiple homicide and kidnap scene, speaking as calmly as if reporting a flat tire.
"Help is on the way, you guys," he told the kids who were staring at him blankly as if stunned. "The paramedics will take you in for observation. I'm sure they will offer you counseling. You've been through hell. I'll stay here while the cops investigate." He didn't tell them, but he also was going to call in Department 21 Black. Although he disliked dealing with the unit, they were sometimes necessary. They would put a lid on the horrors as much as possible, keeping it out of newspapers and TV in an outright cover-up. The police hated having their cases confiscated by a branch of the FBI but maybe in this case they might be relieved not to have to explain it all.
"It's a nightmare," the girl named Joanne said as she began to cry. "The man with the face like a skull. He said this was my fault because I swiped that jewel. I didn't know. I couldn't have known. Poor Valleri. Look at her!"
Bane strode over to where Golgora was starting to stir and dug through the pockets of the jumpsuit. He pulled out a small oval gem the deep purple of a grape, highly polished. "No, you couldn't have known," he told her. "To be honest, these animals are always looking for an excuse to kill. It's all they care about." He got down on one knee and held the Nekrosan gem firmly in place on a flat rock. Then, using the heavy butt of Golgora's Mauser, he smashed it until only dust remained that he brushed away.
5/15/2016
