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Suddenly Memories: Drums
By Dac
Drums crossed the grassy plain, panting as the sun beat down on him. Ever since he had escaped from the rocky, mountainous area where Data had kept his cell he had walked day and night, although exactly what he was searching for he didn’t know. All he knew was that the old city had been bombed, Data had told him that, and there was no news of his friends. He had pushed all that aside and focused on one thing: getting as far from his cell as possible, and away from Data. That had been four days ago, and he was already feeling like hell. He had neither food nor water, only a handful of cash he had picked out of Data’s pocket during his escape, and a fat lot of good it was doing him.
Still he soldiered on, driven only by knowing what was behind him, and what he could see ahead. Far in the distance, he could just barely see the ruins of the city, and even further beyond that, so far he occasionally wondered if he was imagining it, the immense woods on its borders, climbing the mountain ranges on the horizon. He forced himself onwards, not daring to stop in case he never started, heading for the city. He didn’t know what had happened to his friends, but that seemed as good a starting place as any to find out.
For hours he walked, not caring that he was plainly obvious against the grass of the flat plain, if only anyone cared to look, when he chanced to look south, and halted in his tracks. In that direction lay a cluster of hills, less than five miles away, and nestled between them he could see buildings. A small town. He peered at it, wondering if he was seeing things, then looked back at the spires of the city that he could see, the ones that were still standing. It was still at least thirty miles away, a long walk on foot, and fatigued and unsupplied as he was, there was every chance he wouldn’t make it. He looked back at the town, took a deep breath and walked towards it.
The sun was falling behind the mountains when he reached the town. It was a small place, not exactly one caught in a great economic upswing, which seemed odd for one not too far from the city. He could see a church, a gas station, a school, a general store, a hotel with a bar in it, a park and a lot of houses. There wasn’t much else. He walked up the main street towards the hotel, looking around. A couple of kids were playing quoits in the street to one side, with a dog skipping nimbly around at their ankles. The lights in the bar were on and he could hear laughter and raised voices. He opened the door and stepped through, not conscious of his shabby appearance. It drew a few raised eyebrows, but on the whole he was ignored. He looked around the room as he entered. Mostly it seemed to be men sitting around with their drinks, watching the football on TV, while a couple more played pool. Some sat in booths, a couple more at the bar. Drums sidled up and sat on a stool, and the bartender sauntered over casually.
“Hi there,” said the bartender in a friendly voice. “What’ll it be?”
“Just a water to start,” said Drums. “I’ll have something stronger in a little while.”
“If you say so,” grinned the bartender. “You look like you need a water.”
Drums nodded grimly. “It’s been an interesting few days,” he said flatly.
“Evidently,” replied the bartender as he poured water into a pint glass for him. “You drive into town?”
Drums shook his head. “Walked.”
There was a loud commotion as one of the men playing pool sank the cue ball. His opponent jeered at him as he fished it out, red-faced and sat it on the table. The bartender didn’t seem to notice, staring at Drums as he handed him the drink.
“Thanks,” said Drums. “How much do I owe you?”
“Huh? Oh, water’s on the house. Anyway, back up. You walked?” he echoed. “How? From where? Closest place that isn’t one of the farms has to be the old city, and that’s 30, 35 miles from here.”
“Good to know,” said Drums darkly. “That’s where I’m heading.”
The bartender regarded him suspiciously, as though not sure if Drums was spoon-feeding him bullshit. Eventually he decided to play along, leaning on the bar so his head was level with Drums’s. His eyes were narrow.
“You won’t find much there,” he said. “Didn’t you hear? The place was quarantined months ago. Hell of a thing. The whole thing had to be evacuated. Everyone who travelled out by car got stuck on the interstate, and our little slice of nowhere saw more business than it’s ever seen before, or likely to again.”
“Yeah, I heard,” said Drums. “I’m going to see it anyway. I have some questions that need answering.”
“Good luck with that,” said the bartender wryly, standing back up. “No one’s allowed in or out.”
Drums leaned in and grinned mischievously, despite himself. He couldn’t help liking the bartender; he seemed like a decent guy. “Never stopped me before,” he winked.
The bartender laughed. “If you say so,” he grinned. “But I don’t think you’re making it there tonight, not if you’re walking.”
“That’s why I stopped off here,” said Drums pleasantly. “Any chance of getting a room for the night?”
“Damn, I thought you enjoyed my company,” grinned the bartender. “Sure, we’ve got a few free. Come by the front desk later and we’ll sort something out for you.”
“Done,” said Drums. “In the meantime, any chance of getting something to eat? I’m starving.”
“Right here,” said the bartender, ducking behind the bar and pulling out a menu. Drums scanned it briefly before handing it back.
“Can I get a steak? Medium rare, and don’t skimp on the gravy.”
“You got it,” said the bartender. “Sit in one of the booths, I’ll have it brought out to you. Want something strong to wash it down?”
“A beer sounds like heaven right now,” said Drums.
The bartender poured him another pint, this time of smoothly-flowing amber liquid. Drums took a sip and very nearly sighed with relief. He smiled at the bartender and stood up, laying down a 20 and a 10.
“Much obliged, sir,” he said.
“Barlow,” said the bartender. “Gary Barlow. You got a name, stranger?”
“Call me Drums,” he replied, and walked over to a booth in the corner. He sat down and reclined calmly, his spine all but crying out in relief. His shoulders ached and his legs felt worse, and as he sat his various aches and pains hit him bodily. He opened his eyes and watched the various bar patrons, most of whom weren’t paying him a second thought. At the nearest table, two men sat playing a card game he didn’t know. A few booths over, a family of four were eating and chatting among themselves, and the two men playing pool were still going strong. Drums watched them all contentedly, but when his eyes drifted to the bar, he paused and frowned.
The man who had been several seats down from him at the bar was staring at him. The stare was not one of surprise or apprehension, but a calm, even stare. There was no malice in it, but Drums didn’t feel comfortable under the man’s gaze. He frowned back in irritation, but the man did not look away until Barlow poured him another drink. He took a sip, still watching Drums levelly, and then finally looked back up to the TV. Drums swore under his breath and regretted telling Barlow his name. He didn’t really know where he was, and if anyone here would be eager to pass on word to the Leader where he was, he was screwed. Just as he considered leaving on the spot, Barlow appeared with his steak and set it down, grinned and vanished back behind the bar. Drums paused briefly, shrugged to no one but himself, and dug into the meat with his knife and fork. Within minutes the steak was demolished, and just as he started on the mashed potato, the door clanged upon. Drums looked up as a wary quiet rose among the other patrons.
Four men walked into the bar, and it might have been his imagination but none of them looked particularly pleasant. They all seemed to favour heavy black coats of varying sorts; Drums could see a long coat, a bomber jacket, a vest and a leather coat, all sporting sunglasses poking out of the pockets. The one in front, wearing the long coat, was wearing a black fedora, and the one with the vest had a bowler hat. The other two had no headwear, instead both letting their scraggly hair hang limp over their faces. None wore friendly expressions. There was something sickening in the way they moved, some casual pace that screamed a warning at him: these men thought they were better than everyone else, and they were prepared to show it. When the vest drifted back, he could just barely see a knife in his belt. Drums looked around at everyone else in the bar. The man he had stared down was nowhere to be seen, and the rest were either staring at the four newcomers or whispering to their neighbours, or both. The four men walked up to the bar and smiled unpleasantly at Barlow, who stared straight back. He kept his back straight and his chin up, but Drums could see he was afraid.
“I told you boys not to come back here,” he said. “You’re not welcome.”
“Ah, come on, Barlow,” grinned the long coat. “Whatever happened to one and all have a place within your walls?”
“That got revoked the minute you put a shot glass through Johnny Dean’s eye, Morricone,” growled Barlow. Drums watched him closely; his hand under the bar reached for something. Drums tensed and slid to the end of the booth, picking up his knife and fork and sliding them into his pocket. This was going to get ugly.
“Johnny’s not here,” said Morricone blithely. “We’ve got no problem with anyone here. We just want a drink, man. EN’s been working us hard all day.”
“I’ll bet,” said Barlow darkly. “Do I care? No. Get out, Morricone. All of you, piss off. I’m busy.”
Morricone stood up slowly and deliberately. His friends flanked him, all of them staring at Barlow unpleasantly. The vest slid his hand in towards his barely-concealed knife. In response, Barlow began to draw his hand back up, and the beginning of a club handle began to appear. Drums shook his head and stood back up, making sure to clatter his plate and glass against each other. The sound cut through the room like breaking glass, and everyone looked over as he calmly walked over to the bar and set them down.
“Thanks,” he said. “Tell the cook it was great. I’ll be back.”
He walked over to the door, ignoring the sting of several pairs of eyes burning in to him. Just as he reached the door, he glanced back over and saw Morricone and his friends had already begun turning back to Barlow, who had frozen halfway through pulling out his club. Drums turned and stood up straight.
“Which of you four bitches wants to dance?” he called.
Vest and Bomber Jacket went rigid. He could see them visibly shaking, either from anger or almost-concealed laugher, as Leather Coat’s head snapped around and stared at him in amazement. Several jaws dropped and a few people whispered among themselves, but Drums ignored them, his own eyes fixed on Morricone, who had not reacted. Slowly he turned on his heel and stared at Drums, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. Drums didn’t wait for a response. He beckoned to them and stepped outside into the street.
The moonlight was brighter than the incandescent street lights, illuminating the street nicely. He stood at the entrance of the parking lot with his arms folded, waiting calmly. He didn’t have to wait long, as Morricone and his friends stepped out the door and walked towards him. They halted a few metres away, standing in a messy cluster and staring derisively at him. Morricone seemed amused.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” he said.
“Nor will you,” replied Drums. “You didn’t come out here for pleasantry.”
“That depends on your definition of the word,” smiled Morricone. “I find there’s a lot of things pleasant in the sound of a shattering jaw.”
Drums rolled his eyes, and looked from Morricone to his three friends, all of whom stood there trying to look tough. Drums eyed them sceptically. “What gives, are you the only one who talks? Your friends are about as chatty as a bunch of dead kittens, are they all mute?”
“Savio is,” said Morricone, putting his hand on Leather Coat’s shoulder. “He got mauled by a dog when he was younger and lost, among other things, his vocal cords. Go on, Savio, say hi to the nice man.”
Savio opened his mouth and made a noise akin to a leaking gas main. The other two sniggered until Morricone cuffed them lightly. Drums raised his eyebrows and stared at them.
“What are you guys, the retarded cousins of the Three Stooges?”
“We work for EN,” said Vest, as though that clarified anything at all. “And EN, basically, runs this town, stranger. You don’t want to mess with him.”
“Oh please,” snorted Drums. “A guy with an acronym instead of a name? He can’t take a boot up the ass soon enough, and you guys are less of a gang of enforcers than you are a troupe of bad comedians.”
All of them tensed. Even Morricone seemed a little irritated. Drums smirked and stood up straight, walking towards them slowly.
“Did I touch a nerve?” he asked. “No matter. I like pissing off dickheads who go into a bar looking for a fight. Well, you got one. Who’s first?”
Vest lunged at him with a snarl, knife in hand. Drums twisted aside and swatted the knife away with a backhand. Seizing the man’s wrist, he kicked Bomber Jacket in the stomach as he ran to help his friend, knocking him backwards into the other two who were right behind him. He reached into his pocket and ripped out his fork, jamming it into his victim’s cheek. Right as Vest screamed, Drums gave him a swift kick in the genitals and he fell to the ground, moaning. Drums took the knife and pulled out his own steak knife with his other hand. The other three, regathering, hesitated warily.
“You’d kick a man in the balls to win a fight?” sneered Bomber Jacket. “You fucking coward.”
“I’m alone and mostly unarmed, and he came at me with a hunting knife and three people behind him,” Drums pointed out flatly. “How the hell am I the coward in this situation?”
Bomber Jacket growled wordlessly and ran at him. Drums swung the knives warningly when Savio ducked around him and crashed into him from the side. Drums cursed as the knives fell from his grip. Morricone kicked them away as Bomber Jacket made for a kick of his own, straight at Drums’s face. Drums sighed and used his trump card, and all three of his remaining attackers cried out in surprise, none more than Bomber Jacket, when his foot passed straight through Drums’s head. Drums’s arm raked out and pulled his other leg out from under him, and Bomber Jacket hit the ground hard. Savio, gaping, took a foot to the face for his troubles, and Drums scrambled to his feet. Morricone circled him warily, his face finally creased with apprehension. Drums matched the pace, the pair of them circling like sharks. Bomber Jacket stood up unsteadily but made no move at a sign from Morricone, standing there like a snake poised to strike.
“That’s a neat trick,” said Morricone slowly. “How’d you do that?”
“Take your friends and piss off,” said Drums flatly.
Bomber Jacket, behind him, stirred slightly and made an angry noise, but Drums looked at him witheringly.
“Don’t even bother, dipshit,” he said contemptuously. “You think you’re tough? I used to teach high school. What have you got?”
Morricone laughed. Bomber Jacket hissed like an angry cat. Drums pointed at Savio, out cold on the ground.
“Hey, you sound just like him,” said Drums. “Did I hurt you too much? Well fuck off, or else the similarities will get a bit more permanent.”
Bomber Jacket looked beside himself with rage, but Morricone waved him down.
“Grab Eli and Savio and go,” he said. “Get them out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”
Bomber Jacket scowled at him and stared back at Drums, but after a minute of tumultuous inner conflict, he lowered his head and his fists and pulled Vest to his feet. Together they carried Savio towards the road, walking ungainly down the path. Drums and Morricone watched them go, and Morricone smiled at Drums when they were out of sight.
“You’re good,” he said. “You’re in over your head, but you’re good.”
“Well, thanks for your approval of my ability to beat the shit out of your friends,” said Drums. “Go with them.”
He turned and walked towards the bar, rubbing his face, when Morricone called out behind him.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said. “If you want my advice, you better leave town now, or else things will get really unpleasant.”
Drums turned to look at him, but Morricone was already marching up the road after the others, striding calmly as he went. Drums could hear him whistling a jaunty tune as he walked. Shaking his head, he walked back inside. The low murmur of activity didn’t cease as he walked in, but most of the people inside pointedly avoided his gaze; the only person looking directly at him was Barlow, arms folded and looking grim. Drums walked calmly up and sat down.
“Another beer,” he said lightly. Barlow didn’t move for a moment, just watching Drums’s face closely, but eventually he straightened up and poured another pint, handing it to him. Drums handed him some coins and sipped pensively at the drink. Barlow didn’t say a word, mopping up the rest of the bar with a rag. Drums felt a prickle on the back of his neck, and as he looked into the mirror behind the bar, he noticed someone else watching him. The man who had stared at him before was back, standing next to the bathroom door. His stare was no longer calm and level, but cautious and calculating. Drums looked over in irritation, and the man walked towards him, sitting down beside him. Drums glared.
“Yes?”
“That was a brave thing you did,” said the man. “Stupid, but brave.”
“Funny how often those two coincide,” Drums grunted, turning away. “You use that line on everyone who beats up pushy bastards, or is it just that rare that someone does in this town?”
“I’m not talking about fighting them,” said the man grimly, lowering his voice. “I mean that stunt you pulled, during the fight. Intangibility, is it?”
Drums kept his composure, lowering his glass without a change of expression. He turned back to the man, eyeing him boldly. “Is there a problem?”
“Not with me,” said the man. “But those four...well, they work for someone who works for someone who’s very interested in people with abilities like that.”
For a moment, Drums felt his heart stop, but he didn’t let it show in his face. He kept his tone light and conversational as he clarified, “The Leader? Guardsmen?”
“Hm? Oh, no,” said the man. “No, nothing like that. I don’t know who the big boss is, I’ve never met him, but he’s not local. He’s never come here. He sends equipment and money to his men, and they tend to run town.”
“How’s that?”
“Wealth,” said the man. “Keeps local people in line, and outsiders don’t tend to stand up to scrutiny. Hero hunters have come here, and they kept vanishing. This town is a law unto itself.”
Drums processed this, drinking his beer quicker than before. He couldn’t work out if a town so near the city could be independent of Data’s influence, but if hero hunters weren’t welcome that was either a good sign or a very bad one.
“What about powers?” he asked quietly. He had to raise his voice over the sound of Barlow pouring a drink, and the door banging shut, but not enough for anyone else to actually hear.
“Someone used some once,” the man responded, peering into his own cup. “He acted like you just did. Whenever Morricone, Ennis, Eli, Kinski or Savio got it into their heads to cause trouble, he’d take it upon himself to stand up to them. Most of the time he’d get beaten down, they’d laugh it off, no harm no foul. But then one night it turned out he could fire concussive blasts out of his chest. He killed Kinski and put Ennis in the hospice for a month. After that...”
“Let me guess,” interrupted Drums. “He got arrested and disappeared out of his jail cell, probably with Morricone not far away.”
The man did not respond. When Drums looked up, he found the man wasn’t even looking at him, instead looking at something over Drums’s shoulder. Drums did not move for a moment, suddenly consciously aware of how quiet the bar had become. It hadn’t been this quiet when Morricone and the others had shown up, nor when Drums had walked back in. It had certainly been quiet, but still with noticeable activity, the sounds of people trying not to be noticed, a low rumble of conversation and hushed, pointed avoidance. Instead, Drums could hear nothing but utter silence, as though everything in the bar had ceased to exist. Before he could turn, someone sat down on his other side.
“No,” said the newcomer. “I took him away.”
He had on a black suit with a long coat. He wore a plain white shirt and a black tie, and poorly polished shoes. He made a small, slight gesture and Barlow hurried to pour him a drink. Drums noted that Barlow suddenly looked immaculately pale. In fact, every face he could see in the room’s reflection, except for his own and those of his two neighbours, seemed pale and clammy. Some people were visibly sweating. Drums turned to him, sizing him up.
“At first he was amusing,” said the newcomer conversationally. “He imagined himself saving the town and riding off into the sunset, standing up for the little guy, all that crap. At first he just used his fists, and when that didn’t get him anywhere he shot people with his chest. So I stepped in and took him away. People with powers don’t belong here.”
The man turned and smiled acidly at Drums, extending his hand.
“Exitnine,” he said.
Drums nearly choked on his beer and set the glass down, his jaw open in disbelief. After a moment’s pause, he slapped his forehead with his palm and sighed in exasperation.
“No way,” he said. “No. No fucking way. Exitnine? Are you fucking serious? How many more of us can there fucking be?!”
Exitnine blinked, perplexed. Drums’s neighbour cocked his head curiously, but Drums ignored both of them, rubbing his head. Eventually he sat back up and turned to Exitnine coldly.
“Guardsman?”
Exitnine remained dumbfounded for a moment before the question sank in. Blinking, he shook his head as though to clear it. “No. No, I’m not,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to do with the Leader.”
“Right, right,” said Drums. “I forgot. You hijack hero hunters.”
“Strip them for information, mostly,” said Exitnine. “I work for someone who specialises in superhuman study. Did he get to that part already or did I jump the gun?”
“I hadn’t yet,” said the other man coldly. His voice took on an odd quality, as though he was speaking through a fan, but he simply sat there, staring at Exitnine coldly. Exitnine smiled.
“Oh good,” he said. “Then I can explain a few things for myself. So, anyway...oh, sorry. What was your name again?”
“Go fuck yourself,” spat Drums.
“Duly noted,” said Exitnine casually. “Yes, I work for someone who studies superhumans. He operates north of here, but I send him what I can. The proximity to the old city makes this a hot spot for superhuman activity, so he collects what he can and I send him the rest. Hence our friend with the chest blasting cavity. He was more use there than being a hero.”
“Great,” said Drums. “I’ll add that to the list of things I couldn’t give a fuck about. Thanks.”
“Just giving you fair warning, phasing man,” said Exitnine in a low, oily voice. His smile broadened. “You’re in my territory, you have powers...you can work it out. You can come along willingly or I can send you forcibly. I believe you met Morricone and my other friends earlier.”
“Oh, you mean those guys whose asses I kicked?” said Drums. “By all means, send them along. I could use the practice.”
Exitnine smiled and stood up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He walked towards the door and stepped out. The murmur of voices picked up again as he left, but everyone still seemed a bit shaky, except for his other neighbour. Barlow frantically scrubbed the bar as Drums looked around. The two men at the pool table, their game forgotten, were gripping their cues so tightly their knuckles were white. Drums looked at his neighbour, who seemed as calm as always.
“He always like that?” he asked.
“Everyone gets like that when he walks in,” said the man. “Everyone except me. And you, I guess.”
Drums rubbed at his chin and frowned. Exitnine wasn’t with the Leader, so he was safe in that regard, but he had still made a new enemy. One who could silence a room in fear simply by showing up, no less. To add to that, he had a boss Drums knew nothing about. This could end badly. He looked at the man next to him.
“Be honest with me,” he said. “You’ve been good at that so far. How much danger am I in?”
“Honestly?” asked the man. “Lots. Morricone and the others won’t be caught offguard next time, and they’ll be playing for keeps. Plus, if Exitnine says so, even the better people in town would probably turn on you. Everyone’s afraid of him.”
“Except you,” said Drums wryly.
“Except us.”
They sat in silence for a minute, both contemplating their drinks. They didn’t look at each other until Drums drained the last of his pint and set the glass down. He signalled to Barlow, who walked over warily and leaned down between the two men.
“Any chance I can get a room?” he asked.
Barlow hesitated. Drums could still see sweat on his brow. He looked regretful and did not look Drums in the eye, and his voice has heavy with contrition. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “Morricone and the others...they’d come straight after you. I’m sorry, but-”
“It’s OK,” said the other man. “You can stay at my place.”
Barlow looked overwhelmed with relief. Drums looked at the man suspiciously, but the man shrugged back.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I doubt Morricone and the others would break into a house in the dead of night, but if they do, at least you wouldn’t be alone.”
Drums thought it over. He was suspicious, but he couldn’t think of a better idea. It would save him some money, as well. He nodded slowly and set the glass down.
“Alright,” he said. “But if you do anything I don’t like, don’t be surprised if I get punchy.”
“Sure thing,” said the man. “Come on. I’m just up the street from here.”
They stood up and walked towards the door. Drums held it open for the other man and spoke up as he passed by.
“So what do I call you, anyway?”
“Thepio,” said the man blithely. Drums froze in place again, gaping.
“Oh, come on!” he cried.
***
Drums and Thepio walked up the street, looking around as the sun beat down. Drums was chewing on a toothpick, faintly aware of Thepio’s discomfort. The town looked deserted, everyone apparently staying indoors. Thepio didn’t need to say anything for Drums to pick up on it. There was trouble somewhere nearby. The night before had passed uneventfully, but Drums knew that wouldn’t last. Neither Exitnine nor his men attempted anything he was aware of, and the two men spent the night talking. Thepio had settled into the town months before, and took it rather well when he learned who Drums was. They took it in turns to sleep, in case word got back to Exitnine and his men where Drums was staying, but they didn’t come calling. The sun had risen on a calm house, as ever, and once the two men were both up they stepped out, and Thepio had tensed up.
They walked down the main street, looking from side to side. There were no signs of life. No one else on the paths, no cars driving up the road, not even a sound to be heard. It was barely 9am, and Thepio muttered that there should be people out and around, but there was no sign of anyone beyond the eyes. Every so often Drums would sneak a glance at some of the buildings on either side of him, and he could just make out eyes watching them. He knew what that meant.
They heard shouting not far ahead, followed by breaking glass. Drums and Thepio exchanged a glance and ran the rest of the way. The sound was coming from inside the bar. Drums cursed under his breath and, seizing Thepio’s wrist, floated through the wall. The scene that awaited them was grim. Two of Morricone’s friends were inside, the mute guy and the one with the vest. Savio and Eli, Drums reminded himself. He crouched and watched as Eli smashed one of the bar patrons in the face with a pool cue. It was one of the same men who had been playing pool the previous night, a short, stocky man with a face that would have been boyish and friendly if it wasn’t badly beaten and pulped. His friend was on the ground next to him, struggling to breathe as Savio kicked him in the ribs. Eli continued beating the stocky man with the pool cue when Drums walked up behind them both and knocked their heads together. He spun Savio around and punched him in the face, sending him sprawling, but was brought up short when he noticed Barlow’s unconscious form slumped over the bar. His rage built when he heard a click behind him.
Eli had dropped the pool cue and pulled out a gun hidden under his vest. He was rubbing his head but otherwise seemed in decent spirits.
“Nice try,” grinned the ugly man. “But I’m not a fucking weakling. You think I’ve never been beaten up before?”
“Not by me,” growled Drums.
“Good point,” said Eli, and pulled the trigger.
The gun exploded in his hand, but Drums felt something slam him sideways and he fell. Looking up, he saw Thepio fall limply to the floor, his dark clothes glistening as liquid began to stain them. Eli swore and aimed for Drums, but Drums seized Thepio and phased through the bar. He set Thepio there and stood up, his face a mask of cold fury, and was met with two gun barrels pointed at him; Savio had recovered and withdrawn his own. The two men stared at him, manic glee etched across their faces. Savio made a strange hissing noise in delight.
“Delaying the inevitable,” laughed Eli. “Hey, I don’t care who I kill in the process, and neither does EN. He just said wait for you here, he never said leave anyone else standing.”
Drums sighed distastefully. “You two are fucking idiots,” he spat. “Almost as stupid as that bastard who just took a bullet for me, but you’re both still stupider. You’ve seen fists pass through my head, you’ve seen me phase through a bar, and you really think fucking bullets are going to stop me?”
The look of sudden fear shot like lightning across their faces, but before any of them could move, two pool cues smashed into the backs of their heads and they fell down. Drums watched calmly as the other two men, their bloody marks only accentuating their fury, descended upon them.
“Should have done this a long fucking time ago!” one of them snarled.
The two enforcers howled with pain as their two victims wrested their guns from their grasp. Startled, Drums went to stop them, but he moved too slow. The bottom of the bar splattered with blood and chunks of wet bone. Drums stared in astonishment from the corpses to the two men. One of them collapsed into a booth while the other leaned on a pool cue and eyed Drums warily. A long silence ensued before the man standing up spoke.
“You never been around death before, son?”
Drums blinked, taking a minute to process the words before he could summon a response. “No, I have,” he said. “I just didn’t expect...I didn’t think...”
“You didn’t think the little country town people might fight back?” grunted the man sitting down. “We ain’t all soft, pal.”
“So I see,” said Drums drily. “Who are you two?”
“My name’s Greene,” said the standing man. “That’s Rex. We’ve killed people before, the four of us used to be deputies in the sheriff’s office before Exitnine and his friends turned up. They came in as transfers from another city’s police force, and pretty much took it all over. Once the town was under their thumb, they dissolved it and Exitnine became the law, and his boys the enforcers.”
“You never stood up to them in the process?” said Drums incredulously.
“Of course we did,” spat Rex. “And what happened? The sheriff, Vaughn, disappeared and we got warned not to interfere. Every time we tried, we got a visit from those four and got beaten up for our trouble.”
Drums looked back and fourth between the two of them curiously. “Wait, four...four of you were deputies, you said. Who are the four? You two, who else?”
“Conway over there,” said Greene, pointing at a sprawled out figure on the ground by the door. Drums looked at him. Like Barlow, he appeared to be unconscious, but he was breathing.
“And Thepio,” said Rex flatly.
Drums started, looking down at the man below him. Thepio looked weakly up at him, his hand pressed to his leaking wound.
“You didn’t mention that,” cried Drums. “You’re a fucking deputy?”
“I was,” said Thepio, his voice ragged with pain. “Not any more. Not since Exitnine came in.”
Drums bit back the urge to swear at him a lot more and pulled him upright. Rex and Greene vaulted the bar and sat next to him. Greene examined the wound and his face screwed up with curiosity, but Drums didn’t even notice. He stared at Thepio for a long while. As the silence extended, they heard a window break. Drums and Rex looked over in surprise and saw a rock fall to the ground. Another window broke, and then another. Outside, they heard a voice call out.
“Hey, phasing man! Come on out!”
“Ennis,” grunted Rex. “Figures.”
“Stay with Thepio, Barlow and Conway,” said Drums. “I’ll deal with him.”
Rex glared at him from underneath his bleeding brow. “This is our town, friendo. I have a gun. I’ll fucking deal with him, you can sit back and watch this hornet’s nest you stirred up.”
Drums could almost feel his mind snap and his frustration give way, and before he knew it, he had slammed Rex up against the wall.
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me!” he snapped over Rex and Greene’s startled protests. “I have had a hell of a fucking time here. I just escaped captivity and I’ve been walking for several days. This is the first place with people I’ve been to since I was kept underground, and now there’s people out there who want to kill me just for the crime of fucking existing. I’m in a bad enough mood already, I don’t need petulant little shits lecturing me about hornet nests that they let get out of hand in the first fucking place! You fucking hear me?”
He tossed Rex to the floor and stormed through the bar, walking towards the door. Rex stood up furiously behind him, but Drums turned and gave him a death glare that froze him in his tracks.
“I stirred it up, as you said,” spat Drums. “So I’ll get rid of them. You’re welcome.”
He furiously kicked the door open and it splintered under his foot. Sunlight flooded the place as Drums walked outside. If either Rex or Greene spoke again, he didn’t hear them. He stormed outside, looking down into the street.
Ennis stood there waiting, tossing a knife back and forth in his hands, which were sporting gloves. He had shed his bomber jacket and tossed it aside, wearing nothing but a white shirt above his grey pants and black boots. He smiled as Drums walked towards him. Drums eyed him with distaste, but Ennis didn’t notice.
“Sleep well?” asked Ennis.
“You didn’t come for me,” Drums pointed out.
“We wanted to, but we’d rather do this by day,” he said calmly. “More people watching that way, from their windows. EN wants you, but he figures it’s as good a time as any to make an example of someone. You fit the bill nicely.”
“Yeah, Eli said something similar,” Drums told him. “Right before he and Savio painted the bar with their brains.”
Ennis laughed boldly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You wouldn’t do that. I know about you, you see. I did a little digging last night, broke into a few government files. Exitnine mentioned that the first thing you did was ask if he was a Guardsman, so I went into that section. Know what I found?”
“No, but I get the feeling you’ll tell me,” sighed Drums wearily.
“Files on you. And your friends,” grinned Ennis. “You run with a group of those soft bastards who’d go around saving kittens from trees and helping the homeless or whatever, right? But man, some of the files...I mean, there are guys in your group who could make fire, or move shit with their mind, but you? Oh look, you can walk through things! That must have pissed you off.”
“I still beat the hell out of three of you at once last night,” interrupted Drums simply.
Ennis’s next witty remark caught in his throat. He struggled a moment before he regained his composure and smirked again. He pulled a small object out of his pocket and held it up for Drums to see. “Not this time,” he said. “See this? Low-range power dampener. EN brought a few when the boss sent him out this way. It’s not much, but it’ll stop you from doing your little tricks.”
Drums peered at it. He focused and surreptitiously tried to sink his foot into the ground. To his surprise, he couldn’t; Ennis was telling the truth. He tried to hide his surprise, but he could tell from the way Ennis’s grin broadened that he knew. He kept his cool and stood straight.
“So you want to level the playing field?” he said bristly.
“Well, you said last night you played dirty because it was four on one,” said Ennis. “I thought I’d give you a fair fight.”
“And yet you have a knife in your hand, and I don’t,” said Drums. “Is that what you call fair?”
“Here.”
Ennis pulled out another knife, still sheathed, and tossed it in the dirt at Drums’s feet. A cloud of dust sprayed up. Drums took a moment to be sure Ennis wasn’t about to run at him, and slowly crouched for the knife, gathering it up. He kept his eyes on Ennis as he unsheathed it. It had a considerable weight to it, but not enough to be unwieldy. It was identical to Ennis’s, he realised, as he tossed it back and forth in his hands as Ennis had done. Ennis smiled calmly. Drums held the knife firmly in his right hand.
“Well come on then,” he said.
Ennis advanced on him slowly, his entire body tensed. His grin froze and gave way to a look of hardened concentration as he held his own knife out to the side. Drums waited calmly for Ennis to reach him. When the gap between them was almost closed, Ennis broke into a sprint straight at Drums, going for a slash across the chest. Drums shot backwards and sent his own knife towards Ennis’s face. The enforcer pivoted and spun his knife around, slashing the air horizontally as Drums hastily dodged. Ennis kept slashing, never once make a stabbing motion. Drums ducked and dodged every attack his opponent made, and within seconds his free hand seized Ennis’s wrist. Before Ennis could twist away, Drums stomped hard on Ennis’s foot and held it there. Wrenching his arm out of the way, he drove his knife into Ennis’s belly. Ennis howled with pain and pulled his wrist free, but Drums put a left hook into his face and sent him to the ground. Ennis clutched his gut and didn’t even see Drums fall on him, when he found himself pinned. Ennis looked up into Drums’s eyes.
He didn’t like what he saw.
“But...” he wheezed. “You’re...a hero...”
Drums raked his knife across Ennis’s throat and stood up. Ennis clutched at his neck as he choked in shock and fear, staring at Drums with wide eyes. Drums gazed back down at him, his face cold and emotionless.
“Heroes are for kids,” he said softly.
Kicking Ennis’s knife away, Drums looked up the road. Three were down, but there was still Morricone to go, and Exitnine after that. He looked around and saw people beginning to appear at their doors, staring at him in terror. He walked across the road to where a man he recognised from the bar the night before was staring mutely, his face grey.
“Morricone,” said Drums. “Did you see him?”
The man looked at him in morbid curiosity. Drums ignored the stare. He’d gotten it before, and he was sure to again. He had no delusions about it. The man slowly raised his hand and pointed up the street. Drums nodded his thanks and stepped back into the road. More faces turned to him in horror, and he ignored every one of them. Let them stare. He didn’t care. He mentally catalogued everything in his head: three down, two to go, and then he could leave. He’d stumbled onto a pit of vipers and just wanted to get out, but first he had to get rid of them.
He walked up the street, ignoring the dying gasps of Ennis on the ground behind him.
***
Morricone was not as hard to find as he’d thought. Drums saw him a long distance off, wearing the same outfit despite the blistering heat, sitting calmly on a fence up the main street. He walked up calmly; Morricone had to have seen him and he was sitting out in the open, so sneaking up was out of the question. He simply walked with his back straight and his head held high. The accusing, horrified stares had lessened the further he got from the bar, so he had less to pointedly ignore.
As he got closer, he felt a jolt. There was a kid standing next to Morricone, no more than nine. Worse, Morricone was holding a gun, and it was pointed directly at the kid’s face.
Drums’s eyes narrowed.
“Good morning,” said Morricone pleasantly. “Am I to assume Eli, Ennis and Savio are all dead?”
“Yeah, they are,” replied Drums. “Why did you give Ennis a power dampener and not Eli and Savio? Those two got killed by their own stupidity more than anything.”
“We don’t have many left,” admitted Morricone. “Since Ennis wouldn’t shut up about getting you into a knife fight, we figured his need was probably the largest.”
“Yeah, well,” said Drums. “The other two forgot about my power completely. So does that mean you don’t have one either?”
Morricone laughed and shrugged. “You got me. I don’t. But then, I don’t need one. I have little Billy here. Come on, Billy, don’t be rude. Say hello.”
Little Billy’s eyes stared at Drums, wide and glistening with fear. There was a stain on his pants from where he’d wet himself, but Drums didn’t blame the kid. The boy couldn’t even speak, so great was his terror. He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came from it. Drums looked back at Morricone.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said warningly, keeping his voice under control.
“True enough,” said Morricone. “But I also have no particular desire to eat, or drink, or go to the toilet, or sleep. Those are all things I do solely so that I may continue living. Now, with a raging superpowered man before me, I threaten a small boy so that I may continue living.”
Drums trembled furiously, but his voice did not quaver. His eyes bored holes in Morricone’s skull as he spoke, every syllable carefully weighed and deliberated, spoken slowly and softly. “Harm that boy,” he said faintly. “Hurt him in any way, and you will have removed the only thing between you and me. Kill him, and you have nothing left to threaten me with, and when they come to bury you they’ll have to use a stapler to put you back together.”
“Words,” grinned Morricone, his voice sprouting a sinister edge as his head tilted forward. His teeth gleamed. “That’s true. I kill the boy, and nothing’s stopping you. But are you really willing to risk it?”
Drums looked at the boy. His wide blue eyes were still welling. There was a small dinosaur figurine on the ground from where he’d dropped it. Drums held his breath and did not move. Morricone nodded.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now you, me and little Billy are going to go and see Exitnine, and he will send you off to our benefactor.”
“Fine by me,” hissed Drums. “How far is Exitnine?”
“Not far,” said Exitnine. “We operate out of a small storage facility in the woods just past the schoolyard, dug into the old quarry. It’s only 20 minutes by foot.”
Drums opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the fence seemed to come alive behind Morricone. Drums started as the wires of the fence seemed to duplicate and seethe into the air. His movement alerted Morricone, who whirled on the spot and looked up in astonishment, when the writhing mass of micro-thin wires fell upon him. Little Billy screamed and ran the moment the gun wasn’t aimed at him, but Morricone did not even notice. He cried out in pain and terror as the wires bit into him and stretched his limbs out. Drums could do nothing but watch as Morricone’s arms were ripped from their sockets and he fell to the ground in front of the living wires, rolling around in agony.
The wires twitched and fell to the ground, and as Drums watched, they began to spin around, coalescing into something with a defined shape. They formed into a person, and Drums blinked as a very familiar figure appeared when the wires all wound themselves into human form, all except where the right arm should have been. From the shoulder protruded thousands of wires, whipping around in mid-air like restless whips. Thepio scowled down at Morricone as he advanced, and he whipped the wires down. They coiled around Morricone’s throat and lifted him into the air, tightening. Thepio’s eyes were on fire as the wires bit deep into Morricone’s throat, but he said nothing until Morricone’s eyes rolled back and his legs stopped kicking.
The body dropped to the ground, and Thepio’s wires lashed around in a circular formation until he had nothing left but a normal arm. He turned grimly to Drums, who stared at him unpleasantly. Thepio did not recoil from the stare, but simply stood over Morricone’s body, staring back, unafraid.
“Say what you’re thinking,” he urged after a long silence.
“I should have fucking known,” said Drums. “All this time, you had that. THAT. You’re a fucking pile of razor wire, and you never once fought back. What the fuck, man?! Why did you never fight back?”
Thepio sat down on the side of the road and patted the kerb next to him. Drums didn’t move. Thepio rolled his eyes at him in disbelief.
“What are you waiting for?” he sighed. “Excuses? Protests that I was afraid? Don’t hold your breath if you are. I have no excuse. I was a coward, I know that. And if you hadn’t started all this, I probably would have just kept on like that. I was afraid I’d be discovered, and they’d take me away and kill me, or whatever they do. That fear robbed me of the will to act, is that what you want to hear? I was weak. I know that, I always did.”
The silence that echoed around them was almost palpable. The man in front of Drums hung his head in shame, and Drums regarded him cautiously. He didn’t know what to make of that. After some time he took a hesitant step forward, but Thepio looked up at him, eyes blazing with sudden ferocity.
“I needed to be reminded,” he said. “I needed to remember what it had been like, when I first came to this world. When I cared about people over myself. Put myself in danger to save others. I settled down, got into a rut, and forgot what it all meant. I forgot. Until you turned up.”
Drums took a moment to find any words that seemed appropriate, and even then he wasn’t quite sure they were the right ones, but he said them anyway. “I just killed a man and allowed two more to die,” he said. “How is that a reminder of saving people? I told you I’m with a team of heroes, but that doesn’t mean I am one. Heroes save good people. I don’t. I kill reprehensible people and hope the good ones will sort things out in the aftermath. I’m no hero. Don’t you dare think of me as one.”
Thepio stood up, his expression cracked with anger. “Last night you stood up to them,” he said flatly. “You fought them, for no reason than you thought it was the right thing to do. You can be cynical all you want, but you do things for the right reason.”
Drums snorted. “That’s been used to justify half the more horrific acts in history.”
“It’s a starting point,” snapped Thepio. “Sue me for believing we all have the potential to get better at being people. Even me. Even you.”
He turned and stormed off. Drums felt like he’d been slapped, standing there mutely staring into space. His insides churned like butter as all the tension in his muscles collapsed and gave way, his mind too astonished at what he’d just heard to hold them. He stood for what felt like hours, digesting Thepio’s words.
When he finally looked over, he saw Thepio walking around the corner, past the schoolyard.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“To Exitnine’s facility,” called Thepio. “Are you coming, or am I doing this alone?”
Drums stared after him, closed his mouth and willed his feet into motion. He walked quickly until he had caught up with Thepio, and together the pair walked grimly past the school. Drums could see woods up ahead, dark and forbidding.
“You heard Morricone say where it was?” asked Drums.
“No, I always knew,” said Thepio. “Everyone in town is just too afraid to go near it. I don’t know why, but you saw it last night. Something about Exitnine just terrifies people utterly.”
“Yeah,” said Drums. “He’s like us. Unnatural.”
***
The doorway had been dug into the rock and fortified like an underground bunker. It was surrounded by an electric perimeter fence, but Drums seized Thepio’s wrist and simply dragged him through. He spared a moment to marvel at how his companion’s skin felt exactly like skin as he pulled him through. Thepio shivered as they passed through the fence. Drums arched an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t you feel that?” asked Thepio. “It’s like ice through my veins.”
“I’ve done it so often, it doesn’t bother me,” replied Drums. “And you don’t have veins.”
“I’ve got something,” grunted Thepio indignantly. “You saw me bleeding when I was shot.”
“I saw you leaking. I don’t know what the liquid was, but it wasn’t blood.”
They stood at the door and stared at it. Drums looked all around for a camera, knowing there had to be one. He spotted a tiny blister of dark glass set in the doorframe above his head and glared at it. Somewhere below them, Exitnine was watching. Drums grabbed Thepio’s wrist again.
“Take a deep breath,” he said, and they sank into the ground beneath them. They passed through dirt, concrete and into another passageway. Drums halted them there, took a look around and saw the bunker went deeper. He spat and phased again, dropping down another level, through another foundation, until they emerged into a huge room lined with fierce lights. The pair of them dropped to the floor below them and looked around. The room was the size of half a football field, with giant spotlights in each corner. Various crates were scattered around the left-hand side of the room. Some were open; Drums spotted guns glinting in the light. The door appeared to be in front of them, and behind them was another set in a large panel of tinted glass. But it was the sight to their right that held their attention.
Several cells lined the wall, not enclosed with bars but with thick plexiglass, drilled with circular holes for air. Prowling around under the iridescent lights were several children, all of whom were malnourished and sickly. They stared out at Drums and Thepio fearfully; some of them huddled in the back corners of their cells while others pressed their faces against the Plexiglass. Thepio walked over to them and stared in shock. Drums picked up a handgun from a nearby crate, checked it was loaded and shoved it into his belt. The sickening sight made him cautious. Thepio walked up the line of cells, staring in horror.
“I know these kids,” he said quietly. “I thought they were all dead. Some a long time ago, some recently. I heard they were all moved into the hospice and died there. The doctor told me.”
“I think you need to have a talk with the doctor,” said Drums. “What the hell does Exitnine want with these kids? They can’t be superpowered.”
With a hiss, the tinted door at the far end of the room slid open. As one, all the children recoiled and shrank up against the walls of their cells, overcome with sudden fear. Some whimpered uncontrollably, others trembled. Drums and Thepio looked over coldly as Exitnine emerged from the door.
“They aren’t,” said Exitnine casually. “They’re fodder, no more than that. Ripe for harvesting, as we were ordered. Our boss wanted children.”
Drums and Thepio stared him down coldly, but he remained unperturbed, leaning on the railing in front of his door.
“Why?” asked Drums.
“So we could respond,” said Exitnine. “Do you know about naturally-occurring superpowers in this world? They’re all gone now. Killed and replaced by us, brought here as we were. Now we’re killing this world, as it is. The Leader’s at the root of all that. He’s ultimately responsible for us all, so my boss is obsessed with making sure the Leader, and all the superpowers he’s responsible for, go down.”
“You know the Leader had nothing to do with it,” snarled Drums.
“I don’t know what is,” said Exitnine bitterly. “I woke up one morning in a place I didn’t recognise, and everyone around me was utterly terrified to be in my presence. What the hell was I supposed to do? Someone found me, and I took his help. Someone who could ignore the fear of me his mind urged him to feel, and he showed me what we are. Feral animals, brought somewhere we should never have come, and so I’m making a use of myself, saving this world rather than killing it.”
Thepio gestured angrily at the cells. “You call this saving the world?” he roared. “They’re children, you sick fuck!”
Exitnine smiled crookedly. The lights cast his shadows every which way, making him look abominably sinister. “Yes, they are,” he said. “My children. I sent a lot of people to my boss, so he could experiment on them, give them technology to combat the superpowers, but these I kept. I treat them well, but they’re so deathly afraid of me. Like everyone, when I walk into a room. Except you two, of course, and I have no doubt the Leader and the others wouldn’t be either. But I care for these children, and they would do anything for me.”
Drums had to laugh derisively at that. “Why the hell would they, if they’re so damn terrified?”
“Precisely because they are so afraid,” chuckled Exitnine menacingly, turning away from them. “They’re too afraid to come near me, but fear remains a powerful motivator to do something. If I tell them to hop, they do. If I tell them to do push-ups, they do. Even if I tell them to kill...”
He walked to the doorway in the tinted glass and looked back at them. His hand pressed a button on a panel inside the door, and as one the cell doors all slid open.
“They do,” he hissed. “Children, don’t make a mess. Just kill them.”
Exitnine’s door slid shut behind him as the children unflinchingly shot from the cells straight at them. Thepio fell backwards as the kids descended upon him furiously, crying out. He struggled not to fight back, refusing to fight them. Drums, already intangible, swept through the kids and seized Thepio’s hand, pulling him free from the children, who were already moving for the crates and the weapons inside. Drums kept Thepio close as several guns went off. The bullets passed through them without causing any harm, and the kids stared awkwardly at the guns in their hands before trying again. Thepio was screaming at the kids to stop, but Drums kept dragging him towards Exitnine’s door. They passed straight through it and bullets ricocheted off the glass. Exitnine stood over a computer screen that had a man’s face on it, and straightened up in surprise as they emerged.
“I can-”
Drums’s hand went to the gun in his belt and shot Exitnine through the head before he could complete the sentence. Exitnine fell in a heap, the back of his head smearing the wall. Outside, the muffled sound of gunfire ceased. Thepio stared mutely at Exitnine’s body, but Drums was distracted by the computer screen. The face on it stared back at him. It seemed to be a scientist, studying him shrewdly.
“Shit,” said the scientist. “Exitnine was a valuable asset. You’ve done me a great disservice, my friend.”
“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Drums.
The scientist did not seem perturbed by his tone, nor even very much by Exitnine’s dispatching. He spoke calmly enough, with the air of someone who knew everyone who worked for him, however valuable, was expendable. “My name is Dr Lionel,” said the man.
“Never heard of you. Tell me why I should care.”
The scientist smiled cruelly. “Because I have news of your friends, Drums.”
Drums went rigid. Thepio looked up from Exitnine’s body curiously, but Dr Lionel ignored him, staring right at Drums.
“They went through my main facility not long ago,” continued the scientist. “They caused a great deal of damage. I want you to be aware of that.”
“Good,” said Drums. “If your main facility was anything like this one, it deserves to get blown up. I wish they’d killed you in the process.”
“They didn’t,” said Dr Lionel. “And now you plague me as your friends did. You know, I-”
Drums shot the screen in irritation. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered. Thepio jumped a foot in the air in surprise.
“What’d you do that for?” he said. “He could have told us where his facility was. You could have tracked down your friends!”
“I’ve had enough of being lectured by smug bastards who think what they do is for the good of the world,” said Drums. “I’ll still be able to find it. There are maps on that table there. I’ll head to his facility and follow the trail from there, and if I see Dr Lionel there, I’ll kill him too.”
Thepio stared at him cautiously. “You seem optimistic,” he said.
Drums fixed him with a stare that was lighter and more casual than many he had given out over the past day. “This means they made it out of the city,” he said. “They’re alive out there, and they’re still fighting. Not just the Leader, but everyone who deserves it. When I escaped my own cell, I didn’t know what to think, whether the Leader had been lying to me about anything. But now I know they’re alive.”
Thepio nodded knowingly and gave a slight smile. He stood up and, with Drums, stared out into the large cell beyond. The kids were all looking around in confusion, not sure what to do. Several looked sick, but none of them were holding guns. Drums put his hand on Thepio’s shoulder.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get them out of here.”
***
As the sun was rising the next morning, Drums sat in a booth at the bar with Thepio, Conway, Greene and Rex. Barlow resumed cleaning up the mess but brushed off any offers of help. No one else was in the bar the night the enforcers died or the morning after, but otherwise things were calm and composed. When they had appeared at the hospice with seventeen sick children in tow, Drums and Thepio had dragged the doctor behind closed doors, told him exactly what they’d done to Exitnine and what they’d do to him if he didn’t fix up the kids. Leaving him pale and shaken, they returned to the bar and found the others. Conway and Barlow had recovered, and the beyond some bruising Greene and Rex seemed OK, although Rex admitted he still suspected he had a fractured rib. The bodies of Morricone and his men had long since vanished, and Drums didn’t particularly care where they might be.
“What are your plans?” he asked of the former deputies as they ate a small breakfast.
“One of us is going to take over the sheriff’s office,” said Greene. “We haven’t decided which of us yet, but we’ll all take it back up. We’ll clean the place up, make it a decent town again.”
Drums nodded and sipped his drink. “Good. I don’t think this Lionel will send anyone here again, but he might.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Conway flatly.
“What about you?” asked Rex. “Thepio said you’re not staying.”
“No,” said Drums. “I have to get going and find my friends. That facility’s on the other side of the city, in the woods, so I’ll start by heading there.”
“On foot?” asked Greene incredulously.
Drums nodded, weary of that question already. Thepio and Barlow had already asked, and in a similar vein. “A car makes me a target,” he said. “I need to walk. Anyway, one of my friends with a similar ability, he could float by lowering his density. Now that I’ve recovered from incarceration, I think I can give it a try.”
The others nodded, pretending to understand, and the talk turned to other topics. They finished their meals and Drums stood up. He shook hands with Greene, Rex and Conway, thinking to himself how little he really knew them, and was waylaid at the door by Barlow with a backpack full of food and a blanket.
“For the road,” said Barlow.
Drums laughed and shook his hand, waving to the others as he walked outside. The sky was littered with clouds and a light breeze wafted around. The temperature was not unpleasant, although the sun was still relentlessly bright. Drums pulled on a pair of sunglasses and turned to Thepio. He knew he couldn’t convince the man to come with him, and didn’t waste any more time trying. He’d done enough of that the night before, but Thepio was caught up in the town and couldn’t leave it. Not after everything he’d been through in it. Instead, Drums stuck out his hand.
“Hopefully I’ll see you again,” said Drums.
“Thanks. For everything,” replied Thepio. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Drums snorted. “I can’t promise that. I just won’t get photographed doing it.”
Thepio laughed, and Drums had to join in, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow in their laughter. Drums felt different than he had before, and he knew it was thanks to Thepio. As their laughter died down, he looked his friend full in the face.
“You said I reminded you how to be better,” said Drums. “I think it was-”
“Don’t,” said Thepio. “Don’t say it. Don’t say you’re proud, don’t say thanks, don’t say goodbye. Just promise me you’ll keep fighting the good fight.”
“Your shoe’s untied,” said Drums flatly.
Thepio looked down at his knotted laces in confusion.
“Made you look.”
They laughed again, and Drums shoulder his pack, walking down the main street towards the open road. He waved to Thepio, who stood at the bar’s doorway watching until Drums was out of sight. As he emerged back onto the grassy plain, Drums clipped the backpack up and spread his arms, feeling the breeze.
“OK, Geekers,” he muttered. “Let’s see if this works.”
He waited and waited, feeling the breeze tickle him as he stood there. For a minute he felt foolish, when suddenly the wind tucked around him and he felt his feet lift off the ground. He opened his eyes and let out a cheer.
***
The door of the bar opened and a tall, thin man wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a long black coat walked inside. Greene and Rex looked up briefly as he walked into the room and seated himself at the bar. Barlow walked over and sized him up.
“Beer,” said the man. “Imported, if you’ve got it.”
“Got some German,” said Barlow. “Bitburger good enough for you?”
“Awesome.”
Barlow pulled out a bottle, popped the top off and handed it to the man, who raised it as though toasting Barlow and took a long draught.
“Interesting accent you got there,” said Barlow. Rex looked over curiously. The man’s eyes raised, but his head did not. “You imported yourself?”
“You could say that,” said the man, sliding a ten across the bar. Barlow picked it up and put it in the register, holding the man’s change out. “Tell you what,” the stranger went on. “You can keep it if you give me some information.”
“Information about what?” asked Barlow. Conway, further down the bar, stopped pretending not to listen and looked across at the man. He seemed a bit pale, with dark brown eyes and grey clothes under his long coat. The black fedora looked more than a little ridiculous. The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a small photograph.
“I’m looking for this man,” he said. “He was headed this way last I heard. You seen him?”
Barlow looked at the photograph. It was a headshot of Drums, looking a bit less malnourished than when he’d passed through. As he looked, he felt the man’s eyes harden and the atmosphere in the room went very still. He held the picture up and showed it to Greene and Rex, who both shook their heads, and then to Conway, who shrugged. The stranger looked back at Barlow.
“You know anything about him? See him pass through town?” he asked. There was a definite edge to his voice, something cold and dangerous. Barlow dropped his right hand casually to his side, and then surreptitiously reached under the bar for his club. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conway subtly move his hand inside his own coat. The stranger didn’t notice, watching Barlow carefully. Behind him, Greene and Rex were rigid.
“I might,” said Barlow slowly. “Who’s asking?”
“Don’t give me any bullshit about ‘might’,” said the man calmly, but everyone caught the warning in his voice. “You either know something or you don’t, there’s no ‘mights’ or ‘maybes’ about it. Anyone who says ‘might’ knows something and doesn’t want to say. So I’ll ask you politely: where is he?”
Barlow was still for a moment, and then leaned in. The stranger leaned in too, his calm, emotionless face inches from Barlow’s. Underneath the bar, Barlow gripped the club.
“Go fuck yourself.”
He brought the club up and smashed the man in the face. The man tumbled off his stool and hit the ground, not moving. The other three sprang to their feet, unsheathing their guns in the process, but the man did not get back up.
“Hell, Barlow,” said Conway, walking over to the body. “Did you kill him?”
“I didn’t hit him that hard,” said Barlow uncertainly.
“Looks like you did,” said Greene, walking over and giving it a nudge with his toe. The man didn’t react. Cautiously, Greene kneeled down and rolled the body over.
The man’s eyes snapped open and his fists flew out. One collected Greene right in the nose and he stumbled backwards, while the other incredibly seemed to fly longer than an arm would allow and slammed Rex straight through the window. Conway jumped and swung his gun around, but the man kicked out and his leg similarly stretched out, sending Conway flying. The man leapt to his feet and seized Barlow by the scruff of his neck. The man wrenched him over the bar and onto the floor. A hand shot out and grabbed Greene’s gun from the floor, and the barrel was pressed into Barlow’s face.
“You know who I am?” snarled the man, and as Barlow watched, the dent in his face seemed to inflate back to normal. “My name is Dac. I’ve made people piss themselves just by showing up. Now either tell me what I want to know, or I’ll burn this place down and drown you in your septic tank.”
Barlow met eyes with the man and saw something foul in there. He glowered up at him and spat right into the foreigner’s eye. The man didn’t even flinch. Barlow kept his composure and smirked defiantly.
“Do your worst,” he taunted. “You think we’re easy targets?”
“You ain’t seen shit, city boy.”
Barlow and the man looked up. Thepio was standing in the doorway, and as they watched, his hand began to unwind into billions of wires.
11/20/2011 7:26:34 AM
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