Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) (30 page)

“No,” Tomás answered, “it’s a woman—Glenna Budiman.” As he answered, the other doors opened, and one by one, the elites exited their vehicles. Torres and Tomás took several moments looking for Pym, but neither could find him.

Shaking his head, Torres turned to the Captain. “Take two teams, heavily armed, and see what’s going on. Find out what happened to Pym and if they have the stones.”

Tomás didn’t hesitate, but he didn’t appear to like the idea of going out there himself. The Colonel, over his shoulder, made certain the Captain knew there was no choice.

As the gate’s lock released and it swung out from the vehicles, there was a rustle of anxiety from the guards. “Settle down,” Tomás said, “and do not do anything unless you receive orders from me.” He wasn’t sure how well or long this command would last, but he needed to keep as close a grip on this encounter as he could. With the gate open and the hydraulics silent, he ordered the teams forward—slowly. Approaching the group, the vehicles split apart and one stopped on either side of Glenna’s cabal. The Captain could see the fear in their faces—that was never good. Frightened people were unpredictable, and this tended to infect the guards. The encounter had become that much more dangerous.

“Where is,” Tomás asked, “Titus Pym?”

“He,” Glenna answered from the far side of the car, “did not make it.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the engines of the guards’ vehicles.

Tomás shook his head and climbed out—before moving away from the vehicle, he ordered the guard to keep a close watch on any movement, and not to take any chances.

“What do you mean,” Tomás asked, stopping in front of Glenna as her brother almost seemed to cower behind her, “he did not make it?”

“We were attacked a few blocks back.” Although possible, Tomás did not believe her. Even though the woman was perfectly believable, the others had the look of dogs who just shit on the Persian.

“Where are the stones?”

“Safe.” Glenna answered.

“I need to see them,” the Captain responded, taking a step forward. With Tomás’ step forward, Glenna took one back, bumping into Chrislann. She had them, of that Tomás was certain.

“It was agreed we would turn over the stones on the other side of the Wall,” the woman’s cool seemed to be breaking.

“That deal was with Titus. I don’t know what happened back there,” allowing his skepticism to drip over the reply, “but without Pym you need to prove you have the stones.”

“You can deal with us as well as Titus,” a voice from the back of the group, a young woman’s.

“We understood and trusted Pym—you
children
are another matter. Produce the stones or you do not get through.”

Chrislann leaned forward, a hand on his sister’s shoulder, and whispered in the woman’s ear—his face drawn from the injury. Glenna Budiman shook her head, and Chrislann worried her arm. Still the woman shook her head. Tomás was on the verge of ordering the guards to find the stones when two other men stepped up, called by Chrislann, and took Glenna by the arms. Chrislann, as his sister struggled, pulled the pouch from around her neck and spilt a few stones into his trembling left hand—holding this up for the Captain’s inspection.

Tomás motioned for the brother to hand these over, and after a moment of hesitation, he did so.

Glenna moaned and broke free of the men’s grip, stepping up behind her brother. Chrislann pushed her back. “They are real.”

Tomás looked at them closely, holding a couple before the lights of one of the flanking vehicles. They looked and felt real—as far as he could tell—but he’d never been very good at determining this.

“They look it.” They would need to be tested, but for now, he returned them to the pouch and slipped it into his trouser pocket.

“Just a damn minute!” Glenna shouted. Pushing past her brother, the woman was holding out a hand. “Those were to be surrendered on the other side of the Wall.”

The Captain appraised the woman for a long, cold moment before answering. “I’ve no idea what happened out...”

“He was killed by refugees, I think,” Glenna answered.

“You have refugees in the city? From where?” Now the Captain was not attempting to disguise his disbelief.

“The South. The outbreak of the Sweating Sickness this has created a significant number of people attempting to escape the effected neighborhoods. Not all of these are simple refugees—some are criminals and others may be Cartel.”

The Captain nodded, but it was clear to Glenna he did not believe her. She really thought she’d been convincing. Finally, she looked about and saw the problem. Everyone else looked utterly guilty. She knew they should have waited until they got to the other side and well beyond the Wall. That would have been safe and quiet. The intention was not to have had a shootout, but Chrislann had been too anxious and then hadn’t followed through. This was always the case with her brother: great with the sweeping plans and strategies, but tactically inept. Details always managed to trip him up, and it was just that that drew them into a gunfight with Titus. This meant he was still out there.

He was injured, but the woman had no way of knowing how badly. What she did know was that he would be out there, probably watching, and looking for an opportunity to hit back. His kind never gave up; always played the angles; was vicious; was remorseless; was vindictive; would have their pound of flesh and then some. It was the
and then some
which bothered the woman more than anything else—and there was a great deal that now worried her about him. The truth was, if there was any truth in their relationship, she cared for him and knew he would have been of more use than all the rest of her friends combined—most especially her brother. Since this whole mess began, she had increasingly been the one to carry the family.

When the world was right side up, her brother, and even her father, dealt with problems just fine. Then the Sweats appeared, and slowly the ability of the men in her family to deal with the troubles began to decline, then race toward chaos. Not until she’d stumbled upon and was captured by Titus had she seen any hope for herself and her friends. Before Titus, she never believed they would be able to do more than complain and plot. Then there was Pym, and they were getting action from the Wall; resources were opened to them; the guards were taking them seriously; the abuse had ended. Here is where the problems with Chrislann had begun.

After the beating by the Captain’s men, the hatred for all things Wall and Pym became an obsession. Soon he was suborning their friends, and when not corrupting them, he was openly coercing these. Over time, even though Titus had taken them from strength to strength, it became plain he had become the main threat all were facing. Slowly, the outsider raised doubts, concerns, and fears. To begin with, he was not one of
us
; then he was an alien; then a criminal; then a killer. She knew where all of this had been coming from, but that did not matter. Glenna had neither the ability nor the interest to fight her brother on this. Still and all, it should not have ended this way. Now, this is what they were going to have to deal with.

Suddenly the gate appeared in the distance.

Continuing to hold out her hand, Glenna shook the palm upwards demanding the stones.

The Captain smiled and turned his back on the group to speak with his people. “Check them for weapons.” With the officer’s order, several guards stepped forward.

“You cannot have our weapons.” When she said this, everyone stiffened.

The Captain turned while continuing to step backwards. “I have no idea what happened out there—but for the safety of everyone, you are going to have to surrender your weapons here. On the other side of the gate, they will be returned to you.”

“This is not what you agreed to.” Chrislann was now stepping up, and his voice was breaking with fear. Glenna closed her eyes and tried not to think of what he was about to do.

“We agreed to allow you through and receive the stones from Mr. Pym. Again, I do not know
what
happened out there—excepting something that should not have. Because of this, we cannot allow you through armed.”

“Then we cannot go through.” This was not going to work and Glenna knew it—ultimatums had never worked with the guards in the past, and there was no reason to believe they would this time around.

“Very well.” The Captain offered the group his back and swung around towards his vehicle.

“Return the stones!” Chrislann’s register was scraping an octave higher than it was normally comfortable with, and the erratic fracturing of the voice deepened.

Tomás ignored the elder Budiman and kept walking. As he approached his vehicle, he turned and smiled. “Disarm them.”

Chrislann turned back to his sister, an impotent rage building on his face. Glenna knew what was coming and took a couple steps back, her face slackening and a sick feeling rising with a quiver from the pit of her stomach. Really, she thought, this felt more like her intestines. With this, a wave of determination took Chrislann, and he reached into his jacket.

“No.” Glenna’s voice was very small—almost a whisper. Even as she heard the shout, “Gun!” Glenna was twisting around and running for the imagined safety of the abandoned stores.

There were a few hesitant barks, which he was all too familiar with, when suddenly these were strangled by a wash of light weapons fire; then a deeper, heavy caliber report. Titus knew what this would have been. Pulling up around the corner from this, he took his automatic and edged up along the wall and toward the intersection. Ducking behind a parked, or abandoned, car, Titus fought with the vertigo that faded and surged with an almost regular pulse. Behind this was a growing headache that hung behind and above the eyes. Pushing the meat of his palms into his eyes, he rubbed the lids gently. A knot of tension was growing at the base of his spine and releasing a billow of agony in time with the surge of pain behind his eyes. The beating he’d taken had damaged something, but he wasn’t sure what.

Titus suspected any number of things, but now wasn’t the time. If possible, he still needed to get to Glenna and stop whatever had begun. Forcing himself up, there was a hard chakra of pain, and he doubled over—what he’d left on his stomach ripped out of him and he was gagging on digestive acid. As the episode passed, Pym leaned back on the car and slid to the ground. The world went liquid with bright bursts of light the consistency of soap bubbles. With the release of the energy stored in these balloons, the pain and tension at the base of his spine eased, and he could breathe again—testing the hypothesis, Pym took several short, shallow breaths and released these. No problem. Then he took a deeper one and a deeper one still.

Stable, for the moment, he reached for purchase on the car and edged himself upwards. The wall remained whole, with a hint of the liquids surface he seen only moments before. His hearing seemed to have cleared up, and from the intersection, the screams were becoming louder, though the gunfire had ceased. There were the occasional reports, but these weren’t directed at anyone because they were followed by cheers. As he stood, still beyond the glare of the LED floods and the lights of the vehicles, there were simultaneous shrieks and shouts from the guards. Although Titus had not yet seen these, he knew their rhythm, idiom, and pattern. The shouts came again as he was turning. For a brief moment, there was a mutual recognition.