Electric Church

XXX AND WHEN I DIE, I’LL BEQUEATH YOU TO SOMEONE

“Ty hates to tell you this,” Kieth said breathlessly as they all pushed into the room, “but the entire complex knows shots were fired inside.” He glanced down at a small device with a glowing blue screen. “Ty’s been monitoring the EC’s bandwidth, and Christ, it just exploded.”

I nodded weakly. “Come here and help me cut off this fucker’s arms and legs.”

Orel remained standing in the doorway, looking around lazily. They were dressed in remarkably good suits, hair slicked back, each of them bearing a smart-looking black bag, the standard kind of telecom bag the Vids used. I’d seen teams just like them at all the press conferences and riot scenes, and Orel, though old for the job, did have the polished, well-fed look of a Vid reporter. Gatz walked over to Dawson, who still twitched and sputtered. Milton and Tanner walked directly over to me, though, and took one arm each.

“Sit down, chief,” Milton said, her voice oddly gentle. “You look like you’re gonna fall down.”

I shrugged them off, shivering uncontrollably. “No time.”

Gatz glanced up from Dawson. “What are we doing with… this?”

I took a deep breath. “Cut off the arms and legs. I hit something important in his neck. I’m taking him with me, as a tour guide.”

“You motherfucker!” Dawson screamed, his voice warping in pitch and volume. “I’ll kill you forever!”

Kieth was still staring down at his handheld. “Probably the motor function data bus,” he said distractedly.

Gatz hesitated. “He’s going to draw a lot of attention.”

I waved wearily at the air. “We’re already screwed in the attention department. Get to work on him. Then you guys have to get back to being a fucking disturbance.”

“Okey,” Gatz said.

“How’d your end go?” I asked Milton.

She shrugged. “We were waiting on the right moment, when the alarms suddenly rang out. Fuck if we weren’t the only people standing in that fucking room after a minute. So we just followed the floorplan, found our way in, and waltzed in unopposed, as they say.”

“It was good work, that floorplan,” Tanner grunted.

“You were the goddamn disturbance,” Milton added.

“Whatever,” I said, putting my weight on my legs experimentally. “We’re inside. Dennis Squalor’s in here somewhere.”

“Not somewhere,” Kieth interjected, his eyes glued to the little screen. “I can tell you exactly where he is. He’s a goddamn data-well. Everything’s going to and from him in this place.”

I looked at Kieth. “Okay. You’re with me, then. You, me, and Barnaby Dawson.”

You took what came your way. Luck was as much a part of success as surviving murderous ex-SSF Monks. I figured I’d earned a lucky break.

Kieth acted like he hadn’t heard me. “This is impossible, though, the packet rate is just unbelievable.” He looked up and paused for a moment. “What did you say?”

Behind him, Gatz fired up the bone saw, white noise swelling to fill the room. He paused.

“Watch out. There’s gonna be sparks.”

Kieth stepped closer to me. “Ty isn’t muscle, Mr. Cates! He did not sign up to do the heavy lifting!”

“You’re with me,” I said weakly, “or you’re with Mr. Dъnmharъ over there. Make your choice.”

Kieth looked over at Canny, who stood on guard, guns in hand, watching both doors. He looked back at me. “Fuck.”

“The rest of you,” I shouted, “are on diversion duty. This complex is filled with Monks. Get them after you. Keep them chasing. Give us twenty minutes. Mr. Kieth, you can locate Squalor within twenty minutes?”

Kieth waved his device distractedly. “Ty’s got him located now,” he wailed as sparks exploded behind him. Dawson’s cursing turned into a fluid, high-pitched howl I hadn’t imagined Monks could produce. “That isn’t a problem. The problem is, Ty didn’t sign up for this shit.”

I ignored him. The sparks ended suddenly, and Gatz held Dawson’s arm up over his head.

“Shit, this is heavy.”

“Move!” I snapped, adrenaline giving me sudden energy. “We’ve got five thousand Monks heading this way so quit fucking around!”

Gatz dropped the arm and fired up the bone saw again, the screechy whine tearing at my ears. He bent down, and sparks erupted into the air again.

I allowed myself to lean on Milton and Tanner a little. “We’ve got exit strategies?” I asked. I knew we did. But my mind was going in a million directions, and I needed focus.

Milton nodded. “We do. Assuming some of us make it out of here to need them.”

I nodded. “I’ve got an idea about that. Kieth, how are we on time?”

Kieth studied his screen, biting a thumbnail. “A minute. Maybe one and a half. The good news is, this area of the complex appears to be routinely deserted, as it’s used to process incoming… er, converts, who are then moved inward for, um, monkification. The Monks are coming from other areas.”

“You’ve got thirty seconds,” I shouted over to Gatz.

“Workin’ on it.”

I pushed Milton and Tanner aside and stood swaying. I cleared the chamber and dropped my used clip onto the floor, slammed a new one into place, and racked a shell into place. “Kieth, when they’re done, grab the Monk and follow me.”

Kieth looked up from his screen, his face a mask of outrage. “Grab the Monk?” he said in disbelief. “You’re joking. Ty can barely carry this.”

I bit my lip and resisted the urge to turn Kieth’s nose into mash. “Put it in the fucking box and pull it along,” I said instead, gesturing at the small hover I’d been brought inside in.

I left them all behind and limped over to Orel, pausing next to him. I couldn’t look at him. It didn’t make any sense, but I was angry, angry about Marilyn Harper. It was ridiculous. I’d killed plenty of innocent people, or at least not worried much when they got killed in the course of things, but this one I couldn’t get past. I wasn’t sure if it was because the old bastard had willfully ignored me, or the fact that it didn’t have to happen. One more day, it wouldn’t have mattered anymore. I ground my teeth and struggled to find my voice. Orel just stood there, elegant and immaculate.

“Do you want me to help on your end, Master Cates?” he asked pleasantly. “Or continue babysitting these bottom-feeders while we make hay with the Monks? I don’t care much as long as I get my compensation. One way or the other.”

His voice was neutral. I made painful fists, my knuckles aching along with every other part of me. With effort, I swallowed the instant rage his calm, arrogant voice had raised in me. “No,” I croaked. “You’re the distraction. I’m on Squalor.”

He didn’t move. “As you wish.”

I hesitated a second longer. “That’s all you care about?”

His voice sounded amused. “Looking for a revolution, Mr. Cates? I don’t see it here. Kill all the Monks for money you want, the System will still be here. Now, give me a bunch of System Cops to kill-that would be a revolution. This, this is just commerce.”

With a scream of tearing metal and a crash, Dawson’s final limb fell from his body. Gatz held the still-buzzing bone saw up in the air. “One Monk down, five fucking thousand to go,” he said tiredly.

“All right,” Orel said suddenly, still not moving. “Let’s move, then. Mr. Gatz, ladies, you’re with me. We’re to cause havoc and keep the heat off Mr. Cates and my dear old friend Mr. Kieth.”

They all made a fuss of checking their weapons. Gatz dropped the saw and wandered over to where I stood and stopped, looking off into some imaginary distance. He was still sweating, a sheen of moisture dripping from his face, staining his brand-new, stolen suit.

“I’m with you, Ave,” he said quietly. “You might need me.”

A wave of dizziness went through me, and I reached out to put my hand on his bony shoulder. He felt like a skeleton through the expensive fabric of his clothes. I wondered for the first time how much Gatz’s Push took out of him, really.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s dump Dawson into that hover thing they brought me in. Push him if you have to.”

While the rest of the team checked ammo and took last-minute directions from a calm Canny Orel, Gatz and I crossed to where Dawson lay on the wrecked table, a trunk without limbs, wiring and insulation hanging out of his shoulders and hips. He turned his head to look up at us, his neck a ruin of scorched latex and wires.

“Fucking rats,” he managed, his voice warped and weakened.

“Shut up,” I advised, “or I’ll cut out what’s left of your voice box. I’ve got a deal for you.”

His whole trunk shook violently for a moment, and it took me a second to realize that the fucker was trying to laugh again. I reached down and forcibly turned his head toward the motionless carcass of Brother West. Dawson’s skin was cold and smooth, and I fought the urge to snatch my shaking hand back.

“This is my offer: Help me, and I’ll give you the same deal as that guy. Keep fucking with me, and I’ll carry you around with me for the rest of my life and fuck with you, and fuck with you, and fuck with you.” I leaned down toward his head. “And when I die, I’ll bequeath you to someone who will continue to fuck with you. What do you say?”

The shaking slowly subsided. “Fucking rats,” Dawson drooled out, his voice like bubbling magma. “What do the fucking rats want?”

“Get me to Squalor.”

The shaking began again, more violently than before. “Fucking asshole. Squalor knows you’re here. Where do you think I came from? He programmed me. He’s looking for you.”

“So you’re taking my offer?”

That molten laugh again. “Why not? You make it three steps out that door you can do whatever the fuck you want with me. It’ll be worth it just to watch them pull your spine out through your nose.”

“Mr. Cates!” Kieth sang out nervously. “We will not be alone much longer!”

I glanced over at Orel and the others. “Move. Keep them busy.” Orel and I looked at each other for a moment. He winked at me, and I turned away.

“Kev, grab Captain Dawson, will you? Kieth, keep me apprised.” I checked my gun and let my fingers linger on the cool metal of the barrel, familiar and satisfying. “Let’s go get this goddamned job done.”

“Amen,” Gatz said weakly, dragging his expensive sleeve across his forehead. “A-fucking-men.”

It was fucking chaos, and I didn’t care. I was probably going to die, and I didn’t care. With the alarm drowning out my thoughts, with the tiny room stuffed full of people and mutilated Monks, it was hard to think, and it seemed momentarily amazing that I was planning to just walk into a room, put two shells in whatever Dennis Squalor was using as a brain, and then… nothing. I didn’t have a plan for after that. My eyes lingered on Brother West for a moment. Hell, there’s at least one promise I’ve kept.

Behind me, the door my team had come through burst inward as if a bomb had exploded on the other side, a Monk with a leveled shotgun framed in the doorway. Orel threw himself flat on his belly as if he’d been practicing the move for decades in hopes of an audition, put three shells in the Monk’s forehead, and leaped to his feet, beaming. His papery skin flushed and his white hair just slightly askew, he grinned at us.

“Saddle up, Americans!” Canny boomed, clicking back the hammers on his shiny silver guns in unison. “Let’s go hunt some fucking Monks!”