Syphon: Guardians of the Fractured Realms (8 page)

Cora looked at him questioningly as she crossed her arms.

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, he was either a willing participant, which means he’s a murderer, or an unwilling participant, which means he’s a victim. Without his memory, it could go either way, but if he’s faking his amnesia, then maybe he was covering for someone. Someone who paid him a visit in the hospital room and tried to silence him. And that strange woman you’ve come across twice, Sybil was it? She’s involved with it somehow. Maybe she’s one of the organizers…”

“If all that’s true, then we need to find this guy quick before whoever killed Russo catches up to him and gets rid of another loose end.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§

Cora headed out to start checking out homeless shelters, after winning another round of rock, paper, scissors. Her partner was left investigating funeral homes and crematoriums. She just hoped her partner didn’t catch on someday or use something more random, like a coin-flip.

Based off the list she’d compiled, it’d probably take the better part of a couple days. She was actually surprised at the number of shelters, soup kitchens, and food pantries scattered across the city. She spent a few minutes weighing her options. Starting with the shelters closest to the warehouse might turn something up. If this group was smart though, and she had to assume they were, then the best bet might be to start at the ones furthest from the warehouse since that would generate less scrutiny.

Another thought popped in her head. Assuming he had been telling the truth about not remembering who he was, her suspect might actually show up at one of those shelters as well. With that thought in mind, she turned on her GPS and set the address for the shelters closest to the hospital. As an afterthought, she cross-referenced with the ones closest to the alleyway disturbance. She found three that not only fit the criteria of being close to both the hospital and the alleyway, they were nearly in a direct path her suspect would have taken if he’d kept traveling in the same direction away from the hospital. With that, she hit the navigate button and headed out.

After jogging for several blocks, Samuel figured he’d put enough distance between himself and the strange guys at the library. The whole situation seemed bizarre but, strangely enough, it felt somewhat familiar as well. He could feel the memories dangling just out of reach, like a spider’s web over his mind. Trying to focus on the men he saw, he tried to figure out why they felt so familiar.

Without warning, a stabbing pain ripped across his mind, causing him to stumble. As the pain intensified, he took faltering steps into a nearby alleyway, trying not to draw attention to himself. Staggering away from the mouth of the alleyway, he slumped to the ground. He focused on the pain, clenching his head between his hands. His head felt like it was going to explode as the sound of blood rushing in his ears intensified. After a few minutes, the pain lessened as he started getting disjointed images flashing through his mind. The most vivid memory flash was of him fighting a woman with red hair, dressed in similar attire as the men at the library. He could almost feel the impact vibrations as he used his sword and vambrace to deflect multiple sword strikes from her, almost hearing the metal singing as the blades slid across each other.

As the images started to clarify, he was startled back to the present by the sound of someone begging to be left alone. Cursing the interruption to what felt like recovered memories, he started to settle back down to concentrate when he realized he recognized one of the voices.

“Hank…?” he whispered.

Slowly standing back up on wobbly legs, the pain in his head started fading as he glanced around. Not seeing anyone at the mouth of the alleyway, he focused again on the voices. Turning, he headed deeper into the gloom, warily choosing his steps, trying to be as silent as possible. About fifty feet in, he came to an intersection. Pausing to listen, he turned right. After another twenty feet, he could make out several guys surrounding Hank, pushing him around and occasionally hitting him, causing him to fall and groan before they hoisted him back up to continue the harassment.

“Are ya sure you ain’t got no money? We’ll stop if you can give us just a few bucks or so… Or maybe some drugs?”

Samuel felt a simmering rage begin boiling up inside of him. He knew first hand what it felt like to have a bunch of punks do that, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it happen to someone he knew, even if it was only this morning that they’d met.

“Come on fellas,” Hank pleaded, “I ain’t got nuthin’. I was just scavenging for stuff in that dumpster. I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it. I’ll leave right quick if you’d let me.”

“Nah, I think the boys and I are gonna show you what happens to people who come in our territory and don’t pay the tribute.”

Without warning, one of the guys sucker-punched Hank in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground, groaning in pain. At that signal, the rest of the guys started kicking and punching the incapacitated man.

“Hey, how about you pick on someone able to fight back!”

All of them stopped at once to look at Samuel in surprise. As they stared, he started walking toward them. They glanced at each other before glancing at the semi-conscious man at their feet.

“Oh yeah, and who are you then?” one of the guys yelled at him.

“I’m the one who’d going to turn you into something resembling leftover roadkill if you don’t leave now.”

“Really now,” said another man, kicking the downed man hard before turning to fully face him, “so it’s just you that’s gonna turn us into roadkill, is it?”

Glancing around, the speaker picked up a chunk of wood from a broken pallet. With that, the spell was broken and the rest of the men quickly found other bits of pipe and wood to use as improvised weapons.

As Samuel continued to walk toward the men, he glanced at the arrayed makeshift weapons.

“Last chance to walk out of here…”

“You know what, you’re a funny guy,” the leader said before glancing over his shoulder.

“You hear that guys, this nice fella’s giving us a chance to give up before someone gets hurt. What do you thi—”

The man abruptly spun back around, violently swinging the wooden plank in a powerful overhead arc at Samuel’s head.

Without thinking, Samuel nonchalantly swung his left arm up to block the makeshift weapon. With a loud crack, the board splintered over his upraised arm. Shaking the splinters off his sleeve, his steady stare burned holes into the other man bulging eyes.

“Well, I did warn you, didn’t I?”

§§§§§§§§§§§§

Samuel knelt down beside Hank. Gently turning him over, he could see his face was a mass of cuts and bruises from the assault the men had administered. Glancing around at the broken bodies littered around the alleyway, groaning in pain, he mentally debated what to do. Reaching a decision, he gently squatted down to picked Hank up in his arms, surprised at how light he felt.

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” Hank mumbled, fading in and out of consciousness.

“Hank, it’s me Samuel. I’m going to to bring you to someone who can help. Just try to relax.”

Struggling to open a rapidly swelling eye, Hank tried to focus on him.

“Su… Sus… Samuel?” he asked weakly.

Samuel could tell the injured man was struggling to form a coherent though based on the deep furrows breaking across his forehead.

“Yeah Hank,” he said gently, “ it’s me, Samuel. I’m going to get you back to the shelter. They have medical people there who can help you.”

Standing up, Samuel tried to get his bearings. Almost without effort, a mental map came up in his mind’s eye on how to get back to the shelter quickly and without gathering undue attention. It felt like another one of his lost memories returning, but he couldn’t take the time or effort to focus on it right then. His biggest concerns were getting Hank to medical help and getting away from the aftermath his rage had caused before the cops came.

Pulling Hank a little tighter to his body to help lessen the jostling, he took off at a gentle jog, trying his best not to bounce his injured friend.

§§§§§§§§§§§§

Samuel kicked the door to the shelter open, accidentally breaking the latch and causing the door to slam against the wall.

“I need help over here!”

Several pairs of eyes looked at him.

“I need help! Now!”

Shaking off their shock, several of the workers scrambled over to him.

“What happened?”

“He got jumped! That’s what happened. Where can I set him down?”

“This way,” one of the workers said, moving away at a rapid pace.

As Samuel followed her, a couple of the others began to follow him.

“Everyone, get back to work. I’ll take it from here.”

Samuel glanced over to see Carl rapidly heading toward him, shooing him on.

“Don’t slow down, keep following Blythe. She’s taking you to what doubles for our infirmary.”

Picking up the pace slightly, Samuel continued following after Blythe.

“Wait right here,” she said, leaving him in a room near the showering area. Reappearing a minute later, she unfolded a cot before motioning him to set Hank down.

“Can you help me get his jacket and shirt off?”

“Yes… We need to be careful though. I think some of his ribs might be broken.”

After a few minutes of getting him partially undressed, checked over, and situated comfortably, Samuel stood up to stretch. Catching Carl’s glance, the other man motioned for Samuel to follow him.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked Blythe quietly.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked up at him.

“It’s still really early to tell, but I think he’s just got a lot of bruises and superficial cuts. I don’t think his ribs are broken, but they may be cracked. My biggest concern is internal bleeding though. I’m going to call one of our EMT volunteers to see if they can swing over quick to give him a once-over, see if he’s serious enough to take to the hospital or not.”

“Thanks for helping him.”

“No, thank you for bringing him here.”

He glanced at Carl again, who was starting to look a little annoyed.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” he said softly before turning to follow Carl out.

Carl headed down the hall and turned in to a small office, clicking the light on before motioning for Samuel to sit. Closing the door behind them, he walked around a desk before sitting down, looking at Samuel for a moment before speaking.

“So tell me, what happened? I only heard a bit about him being jumped?”

“Yeah, about six or seven men were attacking him. I stopped them.”

As he started talking, Samuel had a chance to really think about what had happened. One minute, he was fine, the next minute, he was filled with rage at the treatment of his friend. Why he felt he could stop them, in hindsight, was pretty far-fetched. But in the moment, he knew, beyond any doubt, that the men posed no threat to him. Honestly, he didn’t even really remember the fight past the board breaking over his arm, only that there was pressure and movement, and then the stillness that follows a battle.

Stillness that follows a battle…? Where did that thought come from?

“So,” Carl began, “you mean to tell me that you scared away six or seven men? By yourself?”

“No…” he said, steel suddenly appearing in his voice, “I said I stopped them.”

Reflexively lurching back in his seat, Carl’s eyes widened for a moment before regaining his composure.

“What do you mean by stopped, exactly?”

“Well, by now the ambulance should have carted them off to the emergency room to get some bones reset is my guess…”

“You actually fought with them…? And wo—”

“Listen, I’ve really had a rough few days. I saw someone I knew getting hurt, with a real possibility of being killed, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I saw it happening, something snapped inside. I approached them, told them to leave before they got hurt. They thought it was funny and decided a better idea was to try and jump me instead. They learned their idea was flawed. In my opinion, they got what they deserved. End of story.”

Samuel watched as the other man’s mouth opened and closed silently several times before he spoke again.

“So, just so I understand this correctly and that there’s no misunderstanding, you saw your friend being—”

“Hank.”

“Excuse me, you saw ‘Hank’ being jumped by several men. You told them to leave instead of trying to take them by surprise, got in a fistfight, and won?”

“Pretty much, except they’d picked up boards and pipes and stuff before they tried to attack me. Are we through here? I’ve had a long day already, my friend’s hurt, and I’m starving again. If you don’t mind me asking, when’s dinner?”

“Uh… Dinner’s in a, uh, half hour or, uh, so…”

“Thank you.”

As he stood up and reached for the door, he turned back to Carl.

“Take good care of my friend, please.”

Samuel walked out of the office, leaving Carl with his mouth hanging open.

Cora was beginning to suspect she got the short end of the stick after visiting her first two shelters. How those shelter workers could stand to be around so many people who either didn’t bathe regularly, had some form of mental illness, were former cons, just fell on hard times, or some combination of the above she’d never be able to figure out. Some of the regulars had surprised her with their intelligence or observational skill, but they were overshadowed by the others that had invisible friends or thought the aliens were going to be coming back any day.

A few even started getting agitated when they found out she was a cop, stating they kept getting hassled by other cops. She couldn’t help but wonder if Frank was having an easier go of it talking to funeral directors. While she considered the likelihood of switching jobs with Frank, her phone rang.

“Yeah? Cora speaking.”

“Cora, it’s Frank. There’s been another alleyway incident.”

“Seriously? How bad?”

“Nine guys. None of them upwardly mobile. Multiple bone fractures. Evidence this time of weapons use, but something isn’t quite right about the whole scene. Unless I’m missing something, only the perps in the alley were using weapons. Their injuries are consistent with unarmed strikes as far as I can tell. None of them were in any condition to answer questions though. If this is still the work of our suspect, then my assessment of his prowess just took another significant jump. A lot of their improvised weapons show evidence of being bent or broken. How that’s even possible is a little worrisome, quite honestly. If our suspect wasn’t using weapons himself, then how was he breaking their weapons? I’ve seen kyokushin stylists break bats over arms and legs on the internet, but not bending steel pipes. It’s not adding up.”