Lieutenant Arkham: Elves and Bullets (37 page)

Two dead ogres.

And one waiting to be liquidated. I approach him, slowly.

“Arkham…” He puts his hands up.

“What is it, you fat bastard?” Pity is thin on the ground. Tonight there’s even less than usual.

I perch on the desk and rest the gun on his flat nose, while with one foot I keep him pressed against his chair. I press down with my weapon to hurt him, he tilts his head back slightly. Every repulsive ounce of lard in his body is vibrating with terror. Sweat is running down him as though he were in the rain, but the smell is worse than that oily filth you find on the lower edges.

“Have you any idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this moment? Have you?”

He swallows.

“I am… protected. You’ll never get out alive…”

Fantastic. Almost perfect.

“No you’re not. A lot of things have changed tonight. The old rules don’t count anymore, people go through red lights and the elves are no longer immortal.” I nod at the news programme, which is naturally broadcasting non-stop live footage from Nectropis. The camera is stuck on the scene of devastation they are calling ‘ground zero’. That’s what they call craters caused by a nuclear bomb, but that wasn’t caused by a nuclear bomb. That was caused by
me
.
I
am death, destroyer of worlds. This thought sends a bolt of excitement between my legs.

“What? How do you…”

Then understanding arrives. A jerk of disbelief, a repugnant live comedy show. I move the Altra underneath his wobbly chin and push harder, forcing him to look at me while I lean over him.

“It was… you?!”

Splat.

The omnipresent fan diverted the spurts according to its own aesthetic taste, anxious to participate in the demise of its cruel, disgusting master. I turn it off, finally relieving its suffering. I close the briefcase again, hoping the banknotes aren’t too stained. When the briefcase snaps shut, all the adrenaline slides away, underneath my trousers and onto the floor. As though I were pissing myself. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I have a feel of my crotch just to make sure that I didn’t actually piss myself, but it’s hard to tell due to all the leftovers of Cohl, disintegrated in the explosion. I hope there are still some taxis around, but I suspect they won’t be working tonight.

The briefcase and I go down the steps. I’m crying. I’m not sure if they are tears of joy or desperation.

I’m finally free.

I’m finally fucking free.

Home sweet home.

I sub-let it from a large family of invertebrates, some of whom like it to be permanently festooned with dusty cobwebs. Luckily I don’t come here much. Turn the key in the lock all four times and throw the keys into the bowl by the door. I strip off right there in the hall, dropping my foul clothes on the floor. I wouldn’t be able to say which is dirtier, the clothes or the floor.

I pad over to the fridge in my underpants, my legs are stiff and achy after two flights of stairs and a wearying trek. Inside the fridge there are various archaeological remains, some pieces of a pizza I can’t remember ordering, and a couple of cans of beer, still trapped inside the plastic. I grab both of them and abandon myself in the arms of the armchair. I turn on the TV. On every single channel there’s a shaken reporter emotionally describing recent events, while images of the disaster flash across the screen.

“… estimate of the victims is not possible as yet, but it is certainly in the thousands. The capital of the Western Federation…”

Channel surfing.

“… day for the history of Saros. Manifestations of solidarity and condemnation from all nations of the world…”

“… once again, for those of you who have just tuned in: just before one o’ clock this morning, a catastrophic explosion, the origins of which are as yet unknown, completed destroyed the Lovl’Atheron spire, causing serious collateral damage …”

For the most part, the footage has come from a couple of tourists intent on immortalising the night-time panorama. When the first explosion takes place, they scream with shock in the background. Shock and fear.

“… far nobody has claimed responsibility. The primes suspects are Eburn fundamentalists from the central states…”

Finally I stop to watch the city’s non-stop news channel, NRT, the most up-to-date channel for local news. The clock on the screen says five o’ clock.

“… consequences for the markets. The Ecatomb stock exchange, where trading had already started when tragedy struck, saw shares drop by eight points in just a few minutes before the authorities closed trading. Analysts predict serious damage to all the main markets, but experts claim this is merely the beginning. As yet, the long-term consequences are unknown, and the shadow of a new economic crisis is hovering…”

Even the Lichs who, in theory, are the ones who should benefit from a federal debacle federal, are talking about economic repercussions of the event. And they are quick to declare their solidarity, the bastards, in the meantime I bet they’re rubbing their bones together in glee. After all, they certainly don’t want to be singled out as the instigators. They might be the superpower of tomorrow, but right now an alliance between the Federation and the states of the southern continent would crush them to nothing.

“In exclusive for NRT, an interview with Sahlfani Lovl’Atheron, Ambassadress for the Republic of Grennuble, who immediately returned after the disaster took place. Ambassadress, thank you for allowing us an interview in such a difficult time. On behalf of all the citizens of Nectropis and the world, we would like to express our
deep sense of sorrow and grief.”

The dust-plastered face of the elf is marked by coursing tears. Her hand holding the earpiece is visibly shaking. The background is a swarming mass of frenetic activity in the makeshift emergency area, hurriedly organised by the Cross. Injured people, soldiers, stretchers, doctors. Screams. Weeping. Blood.

“I don’t… don’t… it is an unimaginable tragedy. There … are no words to describe…”

She sobs. Sympathetic but ruthlessly professional the anchorman presses her.

“We have heard that you have assumed transitional control of the dynasty.”

“Yes,”
she nods while blowing her nose, “
in that I am the… eldest. The search for survivors continues with utmost determination. Digging for survivors is taking place all over, with mechanical diggers as well as with people’s bare hands, desperation is driving the rescue workers. All the best enchanters are working together to control the escaped elementals, and… but… I’m sorry…”

The dignitary breaks down in floods of tears, she motions to the cameraman to stop filming.

“Again, our heartfelt condolences. This is a sad day for all sentient beings. We have just received an important update
.”
BREAKING NEWS
is running at the bottom of the screen. “
Preliminary investigation carried out on the magical substratum has shown that the explosive used was of magical origin, though its precise nature has not yet been ascertained. Professor, this confirms your fears.”

Nectropis Radio Television had hastily put together a panel of experts to comment on the event.

“Sadly, it was a foregone conclusion, considering the sheer power of the explosion. The most important consequence for the investigation process is that it will probably be impossible to use magic, due to the violent imbalance within the magical field surrounding ground zero. In other words, it’s the same problem soothsayers have when they attempt to probe events which took place during the Apocalypse.”

A retired general joins in, demanding a firm reaction against the terrorists responsible for the massacre, branding them as “worse than animals” thus giving rise to a confused slagging match.

Bitch mother, you’d think that after having caused such a tragedy, you would ask yourself some existential questions, rejoice or despair,
something
of meaning. Not sit in an armchair and drink beer. Not that I’m empty, cold or indifferent. I have carried out a memorable massacre, perhaps I have... no, I have definitely changed the course of history, and I did this right after I killed my best friend in cold blood, my only friend, in fact. And I didn’t do it for a cause or anything, an ideal or for profit, no. I only did it to save my arse, and that’s all.

Bastard father, what kind of revolting piece of shit would do such a thing?

I fucking would.

I’ve done it.

“Another update: the entire sector between ringroads 180 and 270 has just been declared to be at the risk of collapse, the army has commenced mass evacuation of the most unstable areas. Access is limited to emergency vehicles only. The authorities advise residents in the other areas to remain in their homes. Following a heartfelt
appeal to keep calm and behave in an orderly fashion, Mayor Romerios’s staff have announced that the Mayor will shortly hold a press conference, during which he will discuss the potential change from state of emergency to martial law in the entire city.”

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe a god is trying to tell me that I’ve overdone it, that I have to rationally think about my misdeeds. That now it is time to put a
stop
to this life of conspiracies and murder. I’ve still got the Nexus tickets Gilder bought. I could be in Tallia in just a few hours. With all this chaos, nobody would notice for a few weeks. By then I’ll simply be one of the many missing people.

I pack a small sports bag with essential items: fake ID, money, a couple of cartridges, cursing that I left the contents of the hidden compartment in the car boot behind. I put on the cleanest clothes I can find and leave this rat hole forever. I decide not to use the portals, and opt for the train instead, a livestock carriage, full of petrified passengers, in which I have to fight to find room next to the window.

The overloaded train bumps and rattles on the tracks which lead to the south, along the internal sea coast separating the two continents. I bide my time behind a pair of sunglasses, oblivious to the crowd, the smells and general din. I bide my time and look outside, absorbed like a child, waiting for the curtain to open.

Then it happens.

The blanket of darkness covering the city is lifted off, as though blown away by a sea breeze, dawn triumphs, making me gasp with wonder, flooding the distraught faces of the other passengers with liquid gold. Now everybody is smiling, even those who have lost everything and miraculously survived, I too am smiling, one of the greatest murderers in history. For it doesn’t matter what we have left behind us: broken bricks or broken spirits littering the streets of Nectropis, today the sun has risen on our lives, for the first time since time immemorial, warm, loving light is embracing us, it forgives us, it even consoles us, like a mother.

The streets of Tallia are deserted, but this morning the reason is not simply the slower pace of life in a coastal town. The cafés are packed with stunned people discussing the incredible event. I find a small hotel where the owner, a kind lady around the age of fifty, refuses to let me pay for the room when she finds out I’ve escaped from Nectropis. She offers me a cup of hot coffee and a croissant, she can hardly stop herself from bombarding me with questions. I wonder if she knows her, who knows, maybe she works on the corner.

Rea’s dream was always to open a bakery. ‘What kind of a dream is that?’ I wondered the first time we talked about it. In the end, it isn’t such an unthinkable aspiration for someone with her background. The smell of freshly-baked bread in the place where her uncle worked was her last happy memory, before he died and she, still under the age of twelve, was kidnapped and sold as a sex slave by the orange walrus: Ugube.

“I’ll wait for you forever,” she promised many years ago, before she boarded the train of hope. That’s why I chose the train tracks instead of the portal.

It’ll take a while, but I’ll find her. I’ll surprise her while she’s mixing the next batch, covered in flour, wearing a funny ankle-length apron, her blonde hair around her shoulders in place of the heavy make-up that enslaved her during her entire adolescent life. She must be twenty-nine by now. We’ll run towards each other like in the films, hold each other tightly and melt into a passionate kiss.

“You’re free now, my love,” I’ll murmur in her ear. “I’ve sorted everything with Ugube forever.”

Two hundred grand is quite an amount, but it won’t last forever. I could always auction off the Altra, it’s last service will be to make my life more comfortable. We could open a chain of bakeries all over Tallia, if she wants. Enjoy the beach, and who knows, maybe get married. Have children. Grow old together.

Happy ending.

The phone rings. It’s not the ringtone of my mobile, it’s the flat ring of the landline.

I lift the receiver and come back to the real world with a jolt.

“Hello, hello? Guerin, are you there? Hello?”

My mother sounds worried.

“Hello, Mum.” I haven’t even got the energy to get annoyed at the sound of the name I loathe.

“Praise be the Celestial Spouses! Are you all right?”

Amazing. She sounds sober. She must have just woken up.

“Yes.”

“I called your mobile but I could never get through…”

“It’s broken.” – I glance at the pile of putrid clothes.”

“What’s going on?!”

“The Lovl’Atheron tower has exploded.”

“May the Father preserve us… Guerin, I’m frightened. Can you come over, please?”

“Mum, you can see what’s going on. I’m on my way out, we’ve all been called in.”

“The supermarket’s been looted, I heard gunfire!”

“Lock the door. It’ll be fine.”

“But I’m frightened!”

Fuckingpaininthearsealcoholicbitch. When you’re shitting bricks, you suddenly remember you’ve got a son, don’t you? I’m no longer the weakling ‘not even half the man my father was’ who deserves to have the empty bottles from your latest drinking binge thrown at me. No, now you’re scared shitless and I’m ‘Guerin, son’. I hope your cirrhosis eats you up once and for all, that way I won’t have to put up with your loathsome voice any longer. Fucking bitch.