Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) (35 page)

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Authors: David S. Wellhauser

BOOK: Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill)

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To be fair, the movement of his thoughts appeared to be drawn after the damage to his mind in this last encounter nor did he feel entirely himself. What this meant, he supposed, had more to do with the death of Glenna and her friends than it did anything else. Being trapped was a big part of this. Still, he could not shake the feeling that something fundamental had changed or was wrong. What either of these things was would not reconcile or reveal themselves. Stopping by a ruined car and before a gutted and looted dress shop, Titus took a short drink of water. He still had two-thirds of a bottle of water left, but that would have to last him until he reached the warehouse, which was still a long and ugly hump away.

Sticking the bottle back in the side pouch of the rucksack, he heaved this over his right shoulder and stepped back onto the tarmac. The roads of this district had been filled with less refuse than the sidewalks, so he preferred walking down the center of these. Besides this, the ruined storefronts and doors where filled with shadows, and the moon flicked on and off as clouds whipped over the sky making them more threatening than perhaps they were. Approaching an intersection, there was a high-pitched scream then silence. The voice had been that of a child—at first startled, Titus froze in place, and within a heartbeat, they were running for the ruined cover of an abandoned SUV. After a moment, there was the sound of something heavy being dropped on the planks of wood and broken glass. There had been a lot of those noises since Pym had tied up at the dock.

From the broken window of a convenience store, the same place the sound had come from, stepped the giant. Pym didn’t see him as Zesto and Dugo had, but Cubeo was still a big man—maybe ten centimeters taller than Titus. Resting his head against the back bumper of the SUV, Titus could not believe what he was seeing. After a year, he was almost certain he’d left him behind on the ship. There’d been moments, the fish markets for example, when he’d not been certain about having left him back on the Beluga Fay, but that was months ago. Pushing up off the SUV and standing, Pym looked back over his shoulder, and several youngsters stepped out into the street. They were Santana. Were they working for him? Shaking his head, Titus reached for the automatic as he turned back to the man.

“Stanton...” A pain blossomed in the back of his right shoulder as he pulled the weapon. The gun clattered to the ground, and Pym grabbed his shoulder and turned. It wasn’t a spear or an arrow, not even a silenced round. What he’d been struck with was a large rock. Moving toward the gun, Pym was grateful his shoulder was not broken. There was the clatter of one of their short spears on the ground next to this. Pym stepped back and looked at them—several were holding spears. Turning back to Stanton, Pym saw he was holding something out—a head.

“They’re working for me now, Bob.”

“Still love theater, Elton?”

“Supposed I do, but it turns out you kill the leader you become the leader. Simple political structure but an effective one for the times.”

Pym nodded and waited. No one spoke. He waited some more and Elton lowered the head, dropping this on the road with a subdued meaty thud. Not moving; not drawing a weapon; not making a move or an indication, Elton stood staring at Pym.

“You’re a hard man, Bob...”

“Titus Pym. It’s Titus Pym now.”

“I’d heard. Mine is Cubeo Panche.”

“You’re real name?”

“About as much as Pym is yours.”

Titus nodded and waited for Panche to make the next move, or Santana. The kids, however, didn’t seem in a particular rush, and Titus looked back to Pym. “They will hold you from getting away or using the weapon, but that’s it. Seems they have a rule about this sort of thing—we’ll have to sort it out.”

“We’re not allowed weapons?” Titus asked.

“Seems not, but that suits me. You?”

Pym shrugged noncommittally; privately he thought it romantic drivel, but what was the point of irritating any of them?

“You still interested in collecting your fee—after all this time?”

“I will leave when we’ve finished—still intend to work, and I need your file closed before I can do that.” There was something mechanical in the reply, but something matter of fact as well. This was Panche’s world and the one he’d stumbled injudiciously into back home.

Sighing, Pym stepped forward and away from the weapon. “This is all about them?” speaking lowly and motioning back over his shoulder with a chin.

Cubeo nodded. “Once finished here, they will be useful.”

“For what?”

“Getting out.”

“Thought you’d slip out as you’d slipped in.”

Cubeo shook his head. “The gunboats are too good—too frightened. More risk than reward that way. Heading North.”

“The Wall’s not so easy.”

“You were using fools—you’d have been better off going alone.”

“Wasn’t so easy.”

“Not then, perhaps, but with the death of your girl and the collapse of the Federals, it will be much more so now.” With that, Cubeo charged. Though a big man—considerably larger than Pym in weight and reach—he was also slower. Slower because of his bulk but slower, also, because he looked wasted about the edges. The flesh was hanging loose, and there were bags under the eyes. Besides these, there were a few more scars than he remembered and pain-lines about the cheeks.

At the last moment, Pym stepped aside, and the tactical flashed—slashing at Panche’s lower back on the left side. Twisting about, the back of the man’s hand caught Pym hard on the cheekbone, and he was certain this cracked as he flew backwards. Landing hard, he rolled and was on the move almost immediately. Coming up, Pym could see Panche reach for the wound and pulled a hand back—there was red, but it didn’t appear deep enough. As the blade had slid down the back, there was still plenty of muscle to deflect the tactical. Smiling, more a grimace really, Cubeo pulled the khukuri. “Hope blades are okay?” Pym smiled, but felt no humor in the observation.

“They’re not stopping us, so I suppose they are,” charging again as he finished. Pym knew he’d not survive anything close to a fair fight with the giant, so he used what he had—speed and a willingness to fight dirty. When he’d fallen, he’d come up with a large rock. As Cubeo sailed by a second time, he brought this down hard on the side of his head. This staggered the man, still he twisted, again, but this time with his blade and caught Titus on the left side over the ribcage. The wound was superficial, but there seemed a lot of blood. Not willing to give up the advantage, Pym pressed the attacked and struck with the rock again and again on the giant’s head. The second blow staggered him, and the third dropped him—the fourth appeared to have rendered him unconscious. At this, there was a scream from his side and a blur launched itself at him.

Stepping back, Titus held out a foot, and the Santana sprawled over Cubeo. It looked to be a girl, but he had not waited to see. Racing back for the rucksack and gun, he dodged most of the spears but caught one in his right shoulder in the front and another sunk deep into his left thigh. Not stopping to pull these out, he stooped, pain shooting through his shoulder and thigh, for the automatic and came up firing; the Santana disappeared. With a moment to assess the damage, he pulled the spears, fit the pack on his back, and turned back to Cubeo—the Santana girl was sprawled over him, holding the khukuri and hissing—language seemed to have left her.

Swinging wide around the pair, Titus slipped down an alley next to the convenience store and disappeared—all the while heading west, or what he took for west because the vertigo and headache had returned.

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The author was born and raised in Guelph, Ontario, Canada. After leaving school, David Wellhauser has lived, worked, and travelled in several countries. In between, the author acquired a BA and an MA (English Literature) from the University of Guelph. Presently Mr. Wellhauser is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Liberal Education at Keimyung University, Daegu, The Republic of Korea.