After the Pandemic: The Enemy of My Enemy (part 15 ): Into the Breach (1079 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.96 on 33 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Caes (View user info) at 2005-06-17 11:03:02 EDT
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http://www.ubersite.com/m/61238 -- Introduction -- Jack McCallum
http://www.ubersite.com/m/61350 -- Variant C -- Jack McCallum
http://www.ubersite.com/m/61505 -- Part 1: Brianna
http://www.ubersite.com/m/61614 -- Part 2: Khalid
http://www.ubersite.com/m/63145 -- Part 3: The Meeting
http://www.ubersite.com/m/63504 -- Part 4: The Conversation
http://www.ubersite.com/m/63663 -- Part 5: The Story of Manhattan
http://www.ubersite.com/m/64024 -- Part 6: On the Streets of Jersey
http://www.ubersite.com/m/64325 -- Part 7: Tome
http://www.ubersite.com/m/64611 -- Part 8: Faing
http://www.ubersite.com/m/65301 -- Part 9: The Gathering
http://www.ubersite.com/m/65871 -- Part 10: Men Amongst Giants
http://www.ubersite.com/m/66684 -- Part 11: The Temptress and The Aristocrat
http://www.ubersite.com/m/66752 -- Part 12: Trial by Blood
http://www.ubersite.com/m/67296 -- Part 13: Words and Swords
http://www.ubersite.com/m/67769 -- Part 14: Details and Divinity
The human element of the Manhattan invasion congregated at the point of entry two hours before the darkness chased away the only true ally their species had left. The entrance was exactly where Tome had promised, hidden beneath a nondescript patch of grass in Stevens Park. After half an hour of digging, their shovels clanked against stone. They cleared the dirt away and revealed the body of a rotting oak door braced with rusted metal ribs. Gus and Ferdy pulled the door open and cringed at the staleness of the escaping air. The entrance to Stuyvesant's Passage gaped at them from the earth like an open maw. A moment, and they set about their work with fitful urgency. By the time their partners by necessity arrived, Luke Cell 36 had already made their preparations at the mouth of the tunnel.
"We've laid lights down in the entrance and 400 feet down the passage. It's about a two and a half mile hike to the end. Our transmitters are set up on this end. Once we get to the other side we'll leave a guard there so they can communicate with the people posted on this end. This way we can relay information to the Manhattan team without risking a bad underground connection."
"Swift work, Turner," Khalid complimented. He looked at the tunnel mouth, flickering with lights and shadow. His fate beckoned from the pit, pulled at him with a hollow grip that was inescapable as gravity. Tonight they would travel the road that Allah had laid out for them. "Inshaalha," the Arab whispered to himself.
"Pardon?" Anthony asked.
"It is nothing. Assemble your teams. Let us walk the path."
Khalid walked back to the waiting Kin with Anthony two steps behind. "We are almost ready. Gather your will. Chief Turner and I have some information on how we are to proceed once we enter the passage."
"Surely you don't expect me to enter that thing," Vilhelm scoffed.
"We all must use the passage, govnosos." Svetlana replied, arms crossed beneath her breasts.
"Perhaps YOU must." He sneered. "I need not. I can simply float across the river and meet you at the Butcher's observatory. The way is always clear to one such as I."
"Tselka, I could alter my shape and cross the Hudson River as easily as you."
"Perhaps you enjoy traveling through the dirt like a worm, but it is not in my nature. I have more dignity than that."
Svetlana laughed, a cruel sound that could shrivel a man. "Pizda na palochke! Yes, let us talk of dignity - "
Vilhelm cut her off. "I will not take advice on dignity from a woman who has spent a century lying on her back - "
"Enough." Khalid boomed, and both parties fell silent. "This is not the time for squabbling. Vilhelm, we will ALL take the tunnel. I do not want to risk being split up before we are ready. Svetlana, you will behave."
The Russian woman looked away, as if Khalid were a man she would never give an inch of herself to, but she said nothing.
***************
They kept a quick pace, driven by the stillness behind them into the twitching uncertainty ahead. The crushing silence rushed in to fill the spaces they abandoned, prodding them to chase away the stagnant darkness that blocked their passage. But though it seemed like tar, the blackness melted from their flashlights and fled from the crunch of their footfalls, and each step brought their mission closer.
Aside from Domokos, no one was comfortable in the tunnel, and Brianna perhaps least of all. The passage was tight and low, with barely enough room for three people (or two Faings) to walk side-by-side. The rock and dirt ceiling was braced every few feet with thick planks of wood, but they had the brittle colour of dead trees. Wisely, she refrained from testing them. The only thing she was thankful for was that Domokos and his chittering pets were scouting far ahead, somehow navigating through the pitch without any flashlight or torch.
It was deeply troubling to imagine running into him in the darkness.
She had never been fond of enclosed spaces, and was struggling with the feeling of being buried alive. She tried to calm her breathing, but mostly because the air tasted like cardboard and swirled heavily in her nostrils. Brianna tried not to think about the millions of gallons of water that were above this thin vein of air that man had gouged into the earth, but every so often she found herself shining her flashlight on the ceiling, looking for drips. This would occasionally cause her to bump into the vampyre cowboy.
"Sorry, Mister Cash," she said after jostling him the third time.
"Oh, you don't have to apologize to me, ma'am." He said kindly. "And you don't have to call me Mister Cash, neither. Pretty girls can call me Hollis." He flashed her a winner's smile.
"Oh...uh, thank you," she said. Brianna thought his smile looked ghostly in the dim light. She decided in the future she wouldn't call him anything at all.
In a little over an hour, the tunnel widened into a chamber framed by stone walls. At the far end of the chamber was a small stone staircase, leading up to a cracked wooden trapdoor wedged into the ceiling.
Turner scanned the chamber with his flashlight as the tail end of his team began to catch up. Tyler and Heather began littering the ground with light-sticks, and soon the area was washed in their cold green chemiluminescence.
"Let's get to work." The Chief said. Immediately his team began unloading supplies from their packs.
"Vilhelm," Khalid said. The aristocrat was brushing dirt off his shoulder as if it smelled offensive. "Can you mist through the door and open it from the other side?"
"Of course." He replied as if Khalid had asked him if he was capable of spelling his own name. His exterior rippled quickly and began to steam, and in an eyeblink his body was swirling in mist. The mist cloud floated up to the trapdoor and seeped easily through its many fissures, and was gone.
Bashir stood beside Khalid, and had watched the process with an inert expression. "I will kill him, if you so wish." He said casually.
Khalid frowned. He paused for a moment. "It is a tempting offer. But no. A braying ass he may be, but he has been useful to us."
Khalid had never seen Bashir look so noticeably disappointed before.
There was a rustling sound on the ceiling, and the echo of booted heels. A clank, and the trapdoor rose with a squeaky groan, opening up into a side chamber of St. Mark's Church. One by one, Kin and human ascended the stairs and emerged from their dank toil into a house of the holy.
God's Manhattan home had obviously been abandoned for some time. There was no faith left here, it had been choked and beaten out long ago, cast out of this kingdom like a false prophet. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded, and dust smothered the floor like a winter blanket. Vilhelm had pulled a drab and torn rug aside to expose the secret entrance. The trapdoor was well concealed from this side, blending flawlessly with the floorboards.
The strike teams began to assemble in the antechamber. Anthony examined his surroundings with mild disbelief. This was it. It was all real, everything that old man said was true. They had breached Manhattan. The Exiled Island. An abattoir of misery and death and a five year old dread that not even their monsters dared face. "Fuck me," he said softly. He allowed himself the moment, and then began handing out orders.
Tyler, Brianna, and Rick were heading up the field teams with him as Gus and Heather took up positions with their teams at the passage entrance, making the communications network ready.
Ferdy approached Anthony. His sideways smile had turned into a slightly less disturbing frown, and his normally jittering eyeballs had given up their mad dance. "Boss, let me come. Don't stick me here on guard duty."
Turner shook his head and pulled the young man aside. "You know this isn't just guard duty."
"C'mon boss, yew need me out there. I'll go fuckin' cracked sittin' and bein' useless." He looked around as if the walls were closing in on him.
"No, I need you HERE, Ferdy. I don't trust anyone else to do it. You're my man."
Ferdy rolled his eyes with an annoyed grunt. He found the Chief's logic hard to argue with. "Yes, boss," he muttered. "But I'll prolly end up just sittin' here for no reason."
Anthony put his hand on Ferdy's shoulder and looked him in his wild eyes.
"Ferdinand, I sincerely hope so."
The young man nodded. "Good luck boss. Shoot a couple bloodsuckers fer me." He shuffled down the stairs and into the tunnel chamber.
A few more instructions with his soldiers, and they were ready to move out. They filed out of the antechamber in formation and into the main foyer of St Marks. As the last man shut the antechamber door behind him, Anthony noticed something, something small. There was a diagonal gouge in the door running only a foot long, but deep. It looked recent, but that was impossible. There were no footsteps in the dust of the main room, and the windows and doors were all boarded up with old, dry wood. No one had been in this church for years except for the spiders.
No, he was jumping at shadows. It must be an old scratch. It was a silly detail to notice.
When they exited St Marks, the invaders immediately sent their scouts into enemy territory. Domokos's rats swarmed into the alleys while Vilhelm's vaporous body floated high on silver moonlight. With an easy leap, Bashir launched his lithe form skyward and crawled along walls like a spider, and Svetlana disintegrated into a cloud of bats that spiraled erratically into the night sky, much to the uneasy surprise of the Luke Cell members.
The Manhattan air was still and lifeless, but a faint odor of death lingered about, like the breath of a corpse. The landscape was a jagged urban desert, with streets that gouged their pathways through the crumbling buildings like parched riverbeds. There were no birds. No cats. No life. No sounds.
Except for the drums.
The drumming traveled a soft but relentless march along the concrete ditches and into the ears of the strike team. The beat was steady and mirthless and even though it originated from a great distance, it vibrated in the brain with dizzying effect. Poom. Poom. Poom.
Abayome's blood-red lip curled into a sneer. "Slave drums," she said, in a voice that could scratch glass.
Katsuo shook his head. "They sound like war drums to me. But cold. No spirit."
Abayome looked down at Katsuo, who was several inches shorter than she. The whites of her eyes shouted out in sharp relief to her near-black skin. "These are not war drums. Who would they make war with?"
"It's coming from the Central Park," Khalid said. "Tome said they have gladiator games there. Fortune smiles on us this night. The way to the Empire Building may be almost deserted." He looked meaningfully at Chief Turner.
Anthony nodded. "Let's not assume we've got a free walk. Eyes open, people." He motioned for his teams to move out.
It was not long before Khalid's hopes manifested as plausible reality. They traveled seven blocks, past Union Square, without encountering a single native. It was not until they reached 24th street six blocks later that they found what they were seeking. Vilhelm returned and reported the location of a single vampire-zombie, walking the streets ahead with the casual ease of someone used to being at the top of the food chain. Bashir was sent out to neutralize him. He dropped on the C variant from above, riding him piggyback and snapping his neck before the creature even knew what had happened.
Bashir stood over his victim and surveyed his work. As expected, he was not dead. His spinal cord was severed; the impulses traveling from his brain could not reach the rest of his body. He flopped and twitched in the street, a helpless fish. But there was no fear in his eyes. He gazed back at Bashir with a look of undiluted hate and anger.
"Curious," Bashir said, raising an eyebrow. He crouched over his prey. "Be silent or you will lose your tongue." He dragged the fish off the main street by his ankle. When the rest of the strike team arrived, the variant was bound hand and foot (just in case) and ready for questioning.
Anthony knew immediately that this was not a leech. His incisors, while still prominent, were duller. His teeth and eyes were an unpleasant shade of yellow. But most telling was the condition of his skin. He was covered in sores and scabs, all of which looked to be nearly healed. Everywhere, his flaking skin was mottled and bruised. It was as if his body was deadlocked in a battle with decay, even though he clearly was powerful and able-bodied.
Bashir held him up by his armpits as Khalid approached.
"Good evening. My name is Khalid Ibn as-Saffah. I wish to have a conversation with you."
The variant's yellowish eyes narrowed. "Fuck you," he said. "I'll eat your fucking heart."
"Do not be rude. We have need of information." The Arab said calmly.
"I'll eat your fucking heart!"
Khalid backhanded the prisoner with a closed fist. Anthony saw a cloud of dried skin flakings float to the ground as the veecee smashed against the wall and collapsed, his head limply rolling around his shoulders.
Turner thought the thing should be dead after a hit like that. But inexplicably, the variant began to laugh from his limp position on the alley ground.
"I'm telling you nothing, you fucking leech pussies." He said into the pavement. "You can't hurt me. You think that hurt?" He snarled. "Nothing hurts us, man. Fuck you. I can do this all night and all day." He smirked. "You can't, 'less you want a fucking tan from hell."
Khalid's eyebrows furrowed. He had wrongly assumed they were leeches, but he was correct that once the sun rose, Khalid and his kind would have to seek shelter. This was unexpected. He had hoped to be able to extract some intelligence from one of these abominations before entering the Butcher's Lair, and that no longer seemed be an option. They would just have to silence this one and -
"Step aside, Khalid." Abayome pushed past him. She knelt down before the variant's prone body.
He rolled his jaundice eyes up to see her. "You got something you want to ask me, bitch?" He croaked with laughter. "I'll eat your fucking heart, too, and your pussy."
"I'm not asking. I am taking." Without further pretense, she clamped her fingers around the top of the variants head, and squeezed. Blood trickled down his scalp as her fingers burrowed in.
The prisoner snarled. "You'll have to do more than that, you fucking - wait, what are you doing? Stop!" Suddenly his eyes sprung open and his pupils constricted to pinpricks, like the yoke of an egg with a gnat drowning in its center. And he began to scream. His scream was ragged and naked, stripped of everything that wasn't born of terror and agony. Bashir swiftly cupped his palm over the creature's mouth, but the shriek carried through his hand and clawed at his audience, catching in their throats and hearts and stomachs.
Anthony pressed his hands over his ears, but it made little difference. It was the most awful noise he had ever heard. Abayome's charcoal fingers sunk into the variant's skull up to the middle knuckle. Mercifully, he stopped screaming. But his yellow eyes were still gaping at something terrible that no one else could see.
Abayome closed her eyes and started to speak. "They are holding the Games in Central park tonight. Almost everyone is there. The drums fuel the Games. The Butcher presides there. He judges the combatants and decides the fates of survivors. He will return to his lair when the Games are complete. Floor 86. Floor 86. Floor - "
Abruptly, she pulled her fingers out of the variant's skull with a wet sucking noise. His head thumped on the ground. His eyes were still wide open and frozen in a dead stare. He did not move.
The African priestess nonchalantly wiped her fingers clean on her wrapped skirt. It was a few seconds before anyone spoke.
"What the fuck did you just do??" Anthony blurted.
Abayome looked at the human. Her eyes dared him to repeat the question.
Khalid echoed Anthony's inquiry. "What did you do to him?"
"I took the information you wanted from him." She said simply.
"From his mind?" Khalid prompted.
"Yes."
The Arab's eyebrows moved up his forehead. Abayome had abilities he had not even guessed at. "Amazing. Is he dead?"
"No," the priestess said. "But he will be of no use to anyone ever again. His mind is gone and shall never return." Her tone would be appropriate for a conversation about the weather.
"Jesus." Anthony said, looking at the veecee's blank, horrified gaze.
"Turner." Khalid said.
Anthony did not respond.
"Turner."
"What?"
"Shall we proceed?"
Anthony thought for a moment. "Yes. This is pretty lucky. We should have a clear path to the Empire State Building if what he - she - said is true. We can infiltrate the Butcher's home and ambush him when he comes back from these gladiator games or whatever they are. We'll need some recon teams."
As he and Khalid began to map out a more specific plan of attack, a portion of Turner's mind wandered, flitting between thoughts and strategies with hummingbird speed. He took the cogs, lined up all the teeth, and the gears began turning. But it was rough and clunky, no matter how precise he tried to make it. Had he forgotten something? Where was this apprehension coming from?
It's just nerves, he told himself. He had considered every detail.
And it was too late too turn back now.
User Reviews
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-04-06 11:02:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
*weeps*
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-10-19 04:17:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
There are a solid four pages of +2 streaks with 30 or more reviews. That is stupid. I am weeding it all out by giving every one of them a +1; that way posts that have 1.99 with 200+ reviews gets best ever.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-08-28 12:26:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
shit shit shit
what's going to happen to them???
must've been torturing waiting weeks between entries.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-07-25 23:34:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2005-07-13 07:29:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
just catching up.
Submitted by notyou (user info) at 2005-07-07 15:32:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
<3
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-06-29 13:11:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2005-06-21 11:08:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hey Caes, E-mail me ( kre8rix.at.gmail.com)
There's something I need to talk to you about.
Thanks
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2005-06-21 10:57:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I have answered: http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1119218841480212203#1398160
No, I'm not xenophobic.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-06-21 07:47:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I have the plot basically mapped out to its conclusion, though I'm going back and forth on a couple of things near the ending (particularly the epilogue/aftermath) and may change my mind on some stuff as I write it.
Submitted by Viper_04 (user info) at 2005-06-21 05:12:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
15 parts and Manhattan is here!!!
While i hear alot of complaining about the series being never-ending, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing?
Oh and Caes, a question, do you know how the story is going to continue on or are you 'flying blind'?
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2005-06-21 01:08:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2005-06-20 17:50:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Jungle_Jimanee (user info) at 2005-06-20 11:55:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-06-20 10:47:02 (#)
Ranking: 2
You had me at hello.
I've gone past the stage of trying to give you critique on these now they're all just great and I'mn loving reading them just for the fun of the story. More please.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-06-20 10:59:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
mbstateside: thanks! You wrote my 1100th review! And this is the 1850th review I've ever written! TASTE THE SIGNIFICANCE!!
Wait, that's not significance I taste. That's hubris. Or hummus. I always get those confused.
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-06-20 10:47:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You had me at hello.
I've gone past the stage of trying to give you critique on these now they're all just great and I'mn loving reading them just for the fun of the story. More please.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-06-20 09:12:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Bob, you scare me a little. It's unsettling to have a fan who's mad at you all the time. Heh heh.
Anyway, I want to finish up this series and then take a break from feeling like I have some sort of 'writing commitment'. I don't have the time to do ATP and Ubermadness and I don't want to be one of those guys that either forfeits an entry or just up and quits his series.
Sorry to let you down, guys. Give 'em hell.
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2005-06-20 01:33:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-06-20 01:23:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
WHY THE FUCK ARENT YOU IN UBERMADDNESS?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
I SPENT 15 MINUTES LOOKING FOR YOU.
=====
I was asking myself the very same thing, althought without all the yelling and stuff...
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-06-20 01:23:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WHY THE FUCK ARENT YOU IN UBERMADDNESS?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
I SPENT 15 MINUTES LOOKING FOR YOU.
Submitted by hcp28 (user info) at 2005-06-18 01:38:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
awesome getting better every time!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-06-17 20:42:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
bob -- Glad you liked this one. Things are starting to pick up. I'm interested to hear which other posts are in the top 3.
Corn -- thanks for the arabian tips. It is so hard to find arabian translations on line. When I find a site to translate from english, all it does is translate it into arabian script, WHICH I CAN'T READ, DAMMIT! Stupid internet.
Kre8rix -- heh heh heh.
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2005-06-17 19:14:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't have time to read all of this, but I did want to make a few comments. First of all, I love how you describe people without SEEMING to describe them. Like this, ""Oh, you don't have to apologize to me, ma'am." He said kindly. "And you don't have to call me Mister Cash, neither. Pretty girls can call me Hollis." He flashed her a winner's smile. "
I also like the description here: "they had the brittle colour of dead trees." You described the color as brittle... which also described the texture and FEEL of the place.
Inshallah doesn't fit here. "Tonight they would travel the road that Allah had laid out for them. "Inshaalha," the Arab whispered to himself. "
It means God Willing, but it's never said like this. I'd probably use "mashallah" which means something like "We have what God wishes us to have" or maybe even "This is part of Gods plan".
Submitted by knucklesnelson (user info) at 2005-06-17 19:12:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by runswithscissors (user info) at 2005-06-17 17:47:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
absolutely amazing work! Keep it coming!
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-06-17 15:15:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-06-17 15:07:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And the plot thickens...
Submitted by foster (user info) at 2005-06-17 13:50:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by brokenlizard534 (user info) at 2005-06-17 13:38:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
amazing
Submitted by Revolutionman (user info) at 2005-06-17 13:08:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
NO COMMENT!
Submitted by yermom (user info) at 2005-06-17 12:47:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is an awesome series.
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2005-06-17 12:04:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent job.
And thank you for finally making it visible.
I was having a bitch of a time reading it.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-06-17 11:58:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Just blew through a shitload of chapters with my morning coffee.
GOOD stuff.
Also, that is one cool old pic.
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-06-17 11:27:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This fucking rocked the cock.
probably one of the top 3 of the series.