Through the Darkness of Futures Past…
Part II
I'm not sure if there's anything left of me
Don't let these shakes go on
It's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains
Oh, please, don't let these shakes go on…
>NOATAK SAFEHOUSE
>NOATAK, ALASKA
>1240...///
Menu option number ten. It was Donnelley’s favorite in Afghanistan, and it hadn’t lost its luster even now… for a highly processed bag of food, at least. Chili Mac was at least easy to stomach, so when he found it among the ration stores inside the BLACKBOX, he opted to fill out his survival rations with the stuff. If he was going to die in the Alaskan wastes, he’d at least die with some good fucking food in his belly. He forked the last bit into his mouth and wiped his lips on the back of his hand, taking a moment to smooth out his growing beard. “How’s everyone like the food?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips for those who’d never tasted an MRE before, “Uncle Sam made it special.”
Ghost grunted in response. He had already torn through a Penne Pasta MRE, and was gnawing at a MET-RX Big 100 protein bar on top of it. He ate mechanically, grinding through the food as though it was just one more task to be accomplished, while across from him, beside Ava, Dave was polishing off the entree of his own MRE. He’d slipped the snack item, a bag of mixed nuts, into his cargo pocket for later.
“Better’n the C-Rats the Old Man made me eat when I was a kid,” Dave said lightly. “Rather eat stink bait.”
“What, were they packaged in Nam?” Avery joked around a mouthful of his own entree, “I haven’t eaten this stuff since Lemmonier. Can't lie, it still tastes like cardboard and rat meat. Hey, how did I do in the firefight?”
Laine watched them break out the MREs, observing the shoveling of food into their mouths as if to avoid tasting it. She met eyes with smirking Donnelley, he was certainly ready to be entertained by her reaction to the shitty military grade pouch meals.
She watched him gulp down the chili mac and she smiled at him, her hand on her hip as she waited for the microwave to beep. When it did, Laine retrieved a silver stand up pouch with bold letters "Adventure Meal!" across the front.
"Ava, did you want the Beef Stroganoff or the Lasagna with meat sauce?" She called out to the young woman still working on the phones.
Laine looked at Donnelley as she tore open the pouch and the steam rising with the scent of steak and cream sauce rose with the steam. "Those MREs? I wouldn't know, I brought food."
“MRE’s are better,” Ghost grunted around a mouthful of protein bar. “High carb, high protein. Calorie dense. Keeps you going.” He popped the last bit in his mouth and gnawed through it, his jaw bulging. “We don’t eat for taste, we eat to get shit done.”
Laine rolled her eyes at the protein bar and stuck a plastic fork in her pouch, "Maybe you need 1500 calories a meal in your steam engine to keep going. But I'd rather not gag down a meal that'll make me feel like shit."
"Beef stroganoff," she said then took a bite. "It has all the goods."
It wasn't bad tasting either, Ava would have to settle for the lasagna as Laine forked the stroganoff down. Fuck the MREs.
“Boo.” Donnelley cupped his hands around his mouth, “I can’t hear you over all this nutritional value. Listen, I’ll stick with these gunfighter meals while you wine and dine at the Four Seasons before going on a leisurely stroll through the garden. Maybe you’ll make it back for tea time before collapsing from malnutrition.”
Laine said nothing but as she pulled her fork back out, her middle finger lay along it and she made sure Donnelley saw it. He returned the favor, pulling one of his bottom eyelids down with it.
Ava was intently focused between the phones and her laptop, her brow creased with concentration as she happily threw herself into her work to try and put the last half day behind her.
So it took her a moment to realize she was being spoken to. She looked up and around in mild confusion. “Huh? Oh, uh, I’ll take the lasagna, that’s fine. Thank you Laine.” She gave a quick grateful smile then turned back to the electronics.
As the others spoke Ghost took out a bottle of water and drained its contents by half.
"You didn't suck as bad as I thought you would," he said to Avery. "You kept them more or less suppressed. Just try to kill somebody next time."
Laine took the hot pouch of lasagna and brought it and a bottle of cold water, setting it beside her laptop. She laid a hand on her head, "Don't forget to refuel. And ignore those neanderthals, these are much better and just as full of calories and vitamins. No need to suffer terrible food to be a badass."
She glanced back at Donnelley and Ghost and the rest of them. "They'll be nice once they realize I packed venison jerky."
Ava tore herself away from her laptop as the smell of food reminded her how hungry she was. She took a few bites and then pushed over the phone they had gotten from the mummified agent.
“I got that open.” She said after swallowing, frowning down at it sadly. “There’s nothing that can help explain what happened to them in it. Just pictures, group selfies and all of his contacts were code names for his teammates. There’s not even location data, the phone didn’t log it.” She shook her head and glanced at her laptop screen. “The Russian devices will probably have bigger and better intel.”
A knock came at the door and any conversation happening in the room came to a halt. Donnelley was reminded of those times they’d been caught off-guard, one of those Donnelley wasn’t present for. He reminded himself there were two Wetwork Teams here and they’d all know someone was coming by the sound of a gunfight outside. And UMBRA’s enemies didn’t knock. Donnelley looked at Avery looking at him. He shrugged, slipped his plastic fork into the MRE bag and headed for the door. Poker was looking through the slightest sliver of lifted blinds to see who it was. Donnelley turned the knob and opened it, and what greeted him made him quirk a brow.
“Hello,” The Officer standing at the door in a freshly pressed Tribal Police uniform couldn’t have been past his early twenties, smile as gleaming as his badge and a face full of youthful vigor, “I’m Officer Charles Inuksuk, Tribal Police. I understand you need our help?”
“Yeah. Finding someone. We have reason to believe he’s here in Noatak, he’s wanted by the Federal Government and we’ve been sent to conduct his arrest.” The lie was easy enough. He’d told it many times to many different people, but the fact remained that there weren’t many handcuffs in the room. He smiled and offered his hand, “Jackson Denver, US Marshal Service.”
“Must be an important guy.” Charles took Donnelley’s hand, “Got a lot of people on this.”
Charles nodded behind him at TRIDENT standing there and looking like the menaces they were. If Charles thought TRIDENT was nothing to play around with, Donnelley wondered what he would make of THUNDER. “Yeah, kind of a big thing.”
“Can I ask who?”
Donnelley shrugged, nodded, “Guy named Ipiktok. Ipiktok Irniq.”
“Oh.” Charles looked like a doubt had crawled up inside him, cringing just a tad and looking away for just a second, “Really? Him?”
“And some others. Feds been around this place before us, went missing some time ago.” Donnelley said, “Looking for them too.”
“Okay.” Charles nodded, “You guys ready to go now?”
“Sure.” Donnelley gave his best friendly smile and nodded, closing the door and turning to the others inside, “Kagan, Smith.”
He nodded at Laine and Dave respectively, “You two are with me. THUNDER and TRIDENT stay with Miss Bishop,” he smiled to Ava, “Let her finish her data analysis. We’ll be back.”
Ava stopped eating her lasagna pack and slowly looked over the members of both THUNDER and TRIDENT. She swallowed her food, hard.
Dave reached over beneath the table as Donnelley called his name, taking Ava’s hand in his. He gave it a quick squeeze.
“Y’all have fun,” he said, reluctantly releasing her hand and heading for the door with Donnelley.
Queen sat at the table between two hulking operators, counting out the M&Ms from his MRE and arranging them in color groups. He listened to the conversation between Donnelley and the tribal cop, glancing up when Ipiktok was mentioned. The man's expression told him what he figured, that he was a local menace and source of consternation for the tribe.
He scooped up the red and brown M&Ms and tossed them in his mouth as real and phony FBI agents left the trailer. His pale gaze scanned the others, watching TRIDENT in particular. He did not expect much trouble, even from Ranger Danger but his guard was up.
He swept the leftover colorful bits of candy into his palm and got up, shifting past Maui's bulk to get around the table. He met eyes briefly with the young Ranger and smiled, "Piece of candy?"
"Fuck off," was the muttered response and Queen let it go, pleased with himself.
He sidled up to where Ava sat and placed a few green M&Ms beside the mouse pad. Queen popped another in his mouth, then asked, "Need any help? Got some dummy work to get outta the way?"
Ava gave Dave’s hand a squeeze before he got up, lifting her hand to give the parting trio a wave before glancing back to her laptop. Queen sitting down next to her made her blink but she smiled at the offer of candy and picked up one of the M&Ms. “Thanks Queen, but I’ve got it handled.” She said, before eating one of the little chocolates. “Besides, I don’t need you making fun of me over the obscene amount of cat pictures I have on here.” She added with a small grin.
Queen popped some candy in his mouth and chewed, furrowing his brows, “Make fun? I love cats, any kind of cat really.”
His sly smile returned to his face and then, he asked, “So in that big brain of yours, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about tribal or cult fetishes? Ornamentations or whatever, I found a pendant that was hidden.”
Queen paused then shook his head, “Anyway, it might be something if someone took the pains to hide it in a hollowed out VHS tape.”
Ava tilted her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows in contemplation. “Um, I can look but I can’t make any promises. I’m not the anthropologist of the family, but I picked up a few things.”
“More than what any of us have,” he said, rising up from his seat. Queen went to take the pendant that was now in an evidence bag, sealed and with the time and location it was found written on it in marker.
He handed it to her, a simple but strange pendant of a tiger's eye surrounded by wood with the angular markings, slashes but they seemed to have purpose. “Here you go,” he handed it to her, the stone polished to a slick sheen, light shimmering across the gold and deep brown bands. The wood was painted black but the markings were clear around the circle. .
Queen sat back down, his elbows braced on the table next to her computer waiting to see what she thought of it.
Ava looked down at the pendant, studying it for a few quiet moments as turn the bag it was in to inspect it from all sides. She slowly tilted her head to the side again, eyebrows arching upwards as she stared intently at the markings. “That’s...weird.” She looked up at Queen with a frown. “I’m pretty sure that these markings, the script is Mesopotamian which is really weird if this belonged to someone that was a native Inuit.” She scratched her head and stared down at the pendant again. “I can’t read what it says, my Sumerian is ‘meh’ at best and this isn’t even Sumerian.” She passed it back over to him. “A linguist will need to take a look at it.”
“Maybe, hell maybe they bought it on Etsy,” he said, and took it back, with a flash of his sly grin. “It is strange though, there wasn’t anything in those cabins that we found that had anything to do with early middle eastern civilizations. But we’ll get it to someone in that field.”
He made to go, glancing at her, “If you need anything, don’t be shy.”
She smiled appreciatively. “Thanks Queen.”
Laine washed her hands quickly after shoveling the last of the stroganoff down her throat, it was almost $10 a bag for the camp food and she was not going to waste it. Reminded that she was Rachel Kagan now, she smiled as she pulled on her coat over her shoulder holster. The role was something like she remembered doing in theatre club, creating the character and embodying them. In her mind, Rachel was a much more outgoing and affable person than she was and the mask helped.
As Laine, or rather Rachel, left through the trailer door, she offered her hand to the young officer, “Officer Inuksuk, please to meet you. We appreciate your help. Beautiful country you have up here.”
“Isn’t it?” Charles smiled, gently shaking Laine’s hand, “So, you’re all Marshals after this one guy, huh? What’d he do?”
Laine glanced at Donnelley, “Marshall Denver is leading this operation, it would be better he explain. There’s been an FBI investigation into Ipiktok Irniq’s activities.”
She closed her mouth, not comfortable with winging a pretend investigation. Donnelley sided up with them, “Yeah, disappearing tourists. Marshall Smith over there is my number two,” he nodded back at Dave, “We went to his compound and found out he fled here. He got any friends here he might go to?”
Charles’ face of trepidation returned at the question, the same nerve he had when Donnelley brought Ipiktok up. He put a fist to his mouth and cleared his dry throat, “Might have one. I think I should do the talking with him.” Charles cringed a tad as he spoke, “He doesn’t exactly take kindly to, uh…”
Donnelley didn’t even have to look at Laine or Dave, much less himself. With types like these, he didn’t exactly have to beg the question, “Yeah.” Was all he had to say.
“I’ll take you, nice day for a walk anyway.” Charles sheepishly chuckled, trying to shoo off his nerves. He turned away from them and began his walk.
Laine walked, keeping Rachel in mind and had a bit of a spring in her step as she fell in next to Charles, “It is a nice day for a walk, I just love hiking. The fresh air, the sunshine...the mosquitoes. I was surprised when we flew up here and they talked about there having just been a snowstorm. It must have melted very fast, do you normally get weather that bad this late in the summer?”
She spoke in an upbeat tone, so unlike her own dry even speech. Laine could see faces in the windows, indigenous features on each one as they peered out with suspicion and even contempt at the trio of obvious outsiders now invading their village. Her smile faltered and she glanced at Charles then returned her attention to scanning the village made of small houses and heavily insulated trailers, several had a number of dog houses made of scrap wood with husky mix breeds tied up to each. The dogs barked and howled as the strangers approached, pulling at their ropes with eagerness. Laine was not sure if it was aggression or just curiosity but she was in no hurry to find out.
“Uh, well,” Charles shrugged, shaking his head, “Not really, no. Storms like this are few and far between, but we’ve had a few lately. Which… it’s summer.”
Charles didn’t feel too comfortable walking with these white Feds, Donnelley could tell. As comfortable as Donnelley was walking in the town, admittedly. The barking dogs seemed to be saying everything that was on everyone else’s mind. He looked at one of the windows as they passed and the face of a child ducked out of view, “You guys don’t have many visitors, do you?”
Charles cleared his throat, “Not really, no.”
They walked on in silence. Donnelley had left his rifle back at the trailer. He was sorely missing it now as his hand ached to rest on the butt of his pistol in its duty holster. But he had to be a cop, not a soldier in a war zone, or a G-Man on a mission to silence Ipiktok. So his hands remained empty, thumbs hooked on his duty belt nonchalantly as he walked. Out here it was like Afghanistan again, in a place that wasn’t his, among a people that weren’t his, on a mission none of these people asked to be in. An old woman sat in her rocking chair on a wooden porch that had seen better days, staring at them the whole way. Donnelley offered a smile. She offered nothing. He turned back to looking at Charles’ back as they walked, “How far’s this friend?”
“Edge of town.” Charles spoke over his shoulder, “Okay, look. I need to say this, because there’s no other way, really. He isn’t friendly to the folk here and he has more in common with them than you.”
“So he ain’t going to like us.” Donnelley smiled sardonically.
“Probably not.” Charles sighed, “Like I said. Let me do the talking, stay behind me some paces. He’s a bit of a, uh, sovereign citizen type. You know those.”
“Yeah.” Donnelley looked at Dave sidelong, a knowing smirk at the edges of his lips.
“So, just be cool. Don’t want him to think you’re here for him.” Charles looked over his shoulder at Donnelley. Donnelley nodded back.
Laine glanced at Dave at the mention of sovereign citizen and turned her head away, squinting at something else. “Understood,” she added, “Thank you for helping, Charles.”
>1255...///
Ava frowned as she shifted through the encrypted data on the Russian cellphone, her face pinched with focus as her eyes swept over the lines of code. The previous devices, the other cellphones and the tablets were fairly standard affairs. She managed to retrieve the information from inside and discovered what looked to be very official looking documents but as she didn’t speak a lick of Russian she merely copied the information over onto an external harddrive.
But this phone she was currently working on was different. The OS held the same coding software as the tracking device Renko had given them. A chill started to run down her spine as she worked quickly to get the phone open. Was that tracker actually made with Russian government backing?
With a quiet chime, a new window popped up on her laptop screen, fresh data started to appear on her screen and she began copying it over to the harddrive; when a notification popped up alerting her to an active program on the phone.
She frowned, sitting up straight and typed in a command to pull up what activity was taking place on the phone.
To her surprise a list of coordinates popped up, organized in a log with date and time stamps. She put in the most recent coordinates into her own phone’s map. Her eyes widened as the little virtual pin dropped right into Noatak.
“Oh shit!” She whispered, looking up toward Queen. “Can you get the others on the phone? Quickly?” She held up her phone. “The GRU operatives were tracking someone in Noatak and the tracking device is still active!”
Queen sat back at the table, there was a card game going on but he had already folded against Maui, the man had no subtlety when he tried to bluff. His thoughts kept turning to the bathroom and the pills and powder tucked into one of his pockets. The cocaine seemed to wear off faster, maybe it was cut more than he thought.
He rubbed his nose and mouth, sighing heavily as the pot rose and Maui kept trying not to smile. Queen pushed off his chair to head to the restroom when Ava’s voice caught his attention.
“A what now?” he focused on what she said, “A tracking device? You’re shitting me…”
Queen moved fast, peeking over her shoulder to look at the screen. “Well fuck me sideways.”
He reached for his cell phone and called Donnelley, waiting as it rang and he put it on speaker. The phone picked up and the harsh whisper of Donnelley came over the phone, “What, Queen?”
“Russkies inbound, man,” Queen said, leaning over the little redhead to look closer, “Ava’s cracked their tech, someone has a tracker there because it just pinged Noatak. I got you on speaker, she’s right here. But I suggest you take defensive positions.”
“What?” Donnelley’s whisper got that much harsher, anyone listening could tell that Donnelley’s jaw was clenched, “We’re at the fucking edge of town, there is no cover. Where are they? Where are you fuckers?”
"En route." Ghost was up and moving, his gear on and a round in the chamber of his rifle. He snagged Lucky's AK and slung it. "Queen, get Tex his rifle. Pup, stick with Poker, he'll put you where he wants you." He looked at THUNDER's team lead as he pulled his skull-printed mask into place.
"What are we doing with the nerd?"
Queen shot a look at Ghost, then gave Ava his phone as he moved. Grabbing the SIG, he checked the load and said, "We're not leaving her alone. I could stay."
He glanced up and around at the two teams, then Ava. Donnelley was still listening over the phone, “Leave TRIDENT. Just get the fuck over here, but hang back. We got a delicate situation over here already. Do not fire unless fired upon, just get over here.” The phone clicked off.
>DONNELLEY...///
He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and growled, tugging his plate carrier to adjust how it lay on his shoulders. He poked Dave with his elbow, “We might have more Russians,” he whispered, “THUNDER’s coming over.”
He upped his pace to get to Laine and told her the same, “THUNDER is on the way. We might have Russians. Act natural.”
“House is up here. Hang back a few paces, I’ll knock.” Charles said. Donnelley did as he was told, hand ready to go to his pistol at the first sign of violence. The house was not dissimilar to the rest of those in Noatak, run down wood and sheet metal with a wooden porch. There was a rocking chair and an empty coffee can probably filled with cigarettes. Donnelley was reminded of his own set up just like that in his old Seattle house.
Charles knocked at the door, stepping to the side of it and glancing at Donnelley. No answer for a couple seconds. He knocked again and the door swung open, revealing a fairly tall man dressed in old 90s era BDU pants and red flannel, a stained white undershirt beneath it. The woodland BDU pants looked faded, old and worn like the face of the man wearing it. Dark skinned with a prominent nose and deadly squinting brown eyes, long raven hair that came down over his shoulders in braids. He had a baseball cap with the beret flash of 5th Special Forces Group on it, and Donnelley immediately knew the measure of the man before him. Do something to disenfranchise a Snake Eater and you’d have a ready-made rebel insurgent to keep an eye on.
Or just a bitter, old drunk with a big ass mouth and a heart attack or lung cancer waiting for him like a nail in the road. Donnelley found himself wondering where on the spectrum he was. Charles offered him a smile, but it didn’t do anything to penetrate the ironclad scowl the old Green Beret wore. He was tall, but wiry, and stood like a spring coiled tight waiting to let loose. Donnelley was finding more and more in common with this guy. Charles stood with a heedless smile, “Hey, Yutu. We got a question for you. You got time for us?”
“For you. But not fuckin’ much either way.” Yutu spoke to Charles, but his eyes were boring into Donnelley. Donnelley wasn’t the type of man to look away first. “I ain’t seen him. Any of ‘em.”
Charles continued anyway, “We haven’t even told you who we’re-“
“Ipiktok? Right? I ain’t fuckin’ stupid, kid. You take your goddamn white men and go grab your ankles for ‘em somewhere else that ain’t my fuckin’ front porch.” Yutu snorted and sent a gob of snot flying an impressive distance to land in front of Dave, standing next to Donnelley. “Ain’t gonna find any of ‘em. Not Irniq, not your whites. Not out here. People go missin’, they don’t come back.”
Yutu gave each of them a look and did the impossible by deepening his frown, “Is that a good enough answer for you and your government men?”
Laine pressed her lips together, listening to the conversation. He would be difficult to get any information from as the mistrust of the government was thick and not wholly unfounded. Her worry though kept turning her focus on the Russians that might be creeping up on them as Yutu spoke.
She stepped forward almost close enough to stand next to Charles, the sense of urgency now upon them, "I'm afraid it's not enough. I'm Agent Kagan, I work with the FBI to find missing persons. I understand your hesitation to trust, Mr...Yutu."
Laine attempted to imitate the pronunciation, not butchering it too badly. Her gaze was on him but her body tense with the expectation of violence.
"I've spent quite a few years in the Seattle office, working cases involving indigenous women that have a high rate of disappearance. It's been neglected too long, I was asked to come up to Alaska to see how I could help in similar situations but I was roped into this case. If we could locate these people and Ipiktok quickly and without being stonewalled, it would be better for everyone," she lied easily, familiar with the backlog of uninvestigated missing native women's cases from her studies. "Please, help me out here. I need to speak with him."
Dave stood by while Laine did the talking, his hands on his hips and his eyes watching their surroundings. Yutu wasn’t a fan of whites by his own admission, and the Arkansas native figured that his twang wouldn’t go over well with the old man. Instead he kept his attention focused on the town itself, ready to go for his weapon if things kicked off. He hated being limited to a pistol; while he understood the advantage of appearing less threatening, he felt naked without his AK, especially considering that he might soon be gunning it out with more Russian operators. Still, THUNDER was coming and those guys had enough firepower to level Noatak if Ghost got his panties in a bunch, so Dave did his best to keep cool and position himself where he could help Donnelley get Laine to safety if rounds started to fly. He just had to trust that they were taking care of Ava in the middle of all this.
Yutu looked down at Laine from his porch and held her gaze for a few moments, his lip curling in contempt, “Searching for Native girls?” He snorted, “How’s that going for you people, or are you busy beating the shit out of people for being homeless to make any headway on those cases?”
He took a single step, one of his feet making the step beneath it creak as he leaned a bit more toward Laine, “If you wanna search my fuckin’ home, come back with a goddamn warrant. Or a battering ram.” He turned away from Laine and looked at Charles, “You people don’t leave me be, you might not like how I get, Tsarlis. Get these white men off my porch before we all regret today.”
“It would go better with cooperation,” Laine said, but dropped the argument, the man was set on making them work and cost them time. Maybe buying someone time.
She stepped back at Yutu’s vehemence, turning to Dave and gave him a slight shake of her head. Donnelley sighed, taking note of his sidearm still in its holster. He stepped up close to Yutu’s first step and called out to him, “Afghanistan?”
Yutu stopped in his tracks in his doorway, hand freezing on the knob just before closing it. Donnelley could see Yutu’s shoulders tense and rise just slightly. Yutu turned around, “Iraq.”
“Noticed the beret flash. Group guy.” Donnelley noticed that slight bit of pride in Yutu’s eye to be recognized. Like he existed to someone outside this town who might have had a chance at understanding a sliver of what he was. What he used to be. Something a little better than what opened his door to some Feds just a few minutes ago.
“And?” Yutu narrowed his eyes.
“My ODA was in Afghanistan, near the Pakistan border.” Donnelley shrugged, “So, uh, you and me both know what it’s like to walk into a place where you have a job to do and not everybody wants to let you do it. I’m starting to feel that way about now, but from one Group guy to another, I think we both know the mission… my job, right now, is finding Ipiktok.”
Donnelley searched Yutu’s eyes for some kind of reassurance that he was gaining some ground with this old Commando. Yutu sighed, leaving his door open behind him as he stepped away from it and over to Donnelley, still mindful not to step off his porch and onto public property, where he knew the Feds would have jurisdiction to do whatever they wanted with him. Donnelley was sure that’s what Yutu was wary of. He leaned in close, the height of his porch giving him a few inches on Donnelley, “I won’t get fuckin’ talked to by some white man who never walked where I walked. I’m on the last hill of my life and I gotta die on it sometime. You want some kinda sympathy?” Yutu snorted hard and sent another rocket of phlegm just past Donnelley’s head, which he didn’t flinch away from, “Feds here to lock up the Red Man, harass us a little bit more, when they couldn’t even find my fuckin’ daughter while I was out fightin’ his fuckin’ goddamned fuckin’ war!” He roared.
Yutu’s eyes ripped away from Donnelley’s to something down the street. Expecting Russians, Donnelley turned too, but only saw THUNDER rolling up and stopping at the other end of the block. Just in goddamned time, he thought, bitter. Yutu growled deep, turning and grabbing a fistful of Charles’ shirt and screaming in his face, “I fuckin’ told you, Tsarlis!”
Dave bit back some choice language of his own, watching the situation devolve. He saw tensions spike as THUNDER arrived and despite feeling his own confidence grow at their appearance, he could see that it was having a very negative effect on their current conversation. Donnelley was between Laine and Yutu; Dave moved himself, stepping between her and the nearest houses, putting his plates and body between possible danger and his teammate.
He wanted to help, but didn’t know what to say. Words weren’t his strong point even in a relaxed setting, and this was far from that. Hell, he understood Yutu’s beef with the government more than the man knew. They came from different backgrounds but he still had an abiding distrust for anything Fed. As he saw Ghost’s imposing silhouette dismounting down the road, all Dave could do was hope that Yutu didn’t make the wrong move. He didn’t see THUNDER giving second chances.
The arrival of THUNDER made Laine sigh, it was terrible timing for the situation with Yutu but if shit was going to go down, then it was better they were there. She spoke up, “Please, we can help you. Tell me about your daughter, you mentioned her. We can help each other.”
Though she was certain it would fall on deaf ears, she had to try that last card to get his focus back, hopefully the flare of rage had not taken too hard a grip on the man. Laine found herself in a position between Dave and Donnelley and the feeling of not having the same protection as earlier was pronounced. After speaking she looked towards the houses, wondering if the Russians were just waiting or would they drop out of the sky or pop out of the woods.
Donnelley thrust his hand out, right hand going instinctually for his sidearm in its holster. He grabbed down on it and disengaged the duty holster’s lock, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice, “Yutu, stand down! Let him go!”
Yutu was snarling like a mad dog in Charles’ face, but turning to see Donnelley with his hand on his gun and THUNDER walking towards them at the sound of all their yelling seemed to sober Yutu up. He pushed Charles away from him, the younger man tripping over his own feet and falling backwards on his ass, eyes wide. Donnelley figured Charles wasn’t used to any action more exciting than a runaway dog. Yutu looked from Donnelley to THUNDER and back again, “You should’ve just left me alone.” Yutu turned back and slammed his door behind him, now out of sight.
Ghost was moving the moment the vehicle stopped, his weapon ready and his eyes scanning. He felt his boys taking their positions, falling in where they knew they would be of best use, with himself on point as he always insisted. He watched the tall Indian vanish into the house a moment before he reached Tex and the others, and he spared the local cop a brief glance as he slung Lucky’s AK off his shoulder and passed it to him.
“Get the fuck up,” he snapped at Charles. “Tex, will that guy be a problem?”
Donnelley reluctantly turned his back on Yutu’s house and walked some distance away from it, meeting THUNDER some meters away from where he stood right at the disgruntled man’s porch. He looked at the SIG rifle held out to him by Queen, the other man nodding at it like he was insisting Donnelley to take it. Donnelley shook his head and pushed the rifle back into Queen’s chest, “He’s been a damned problem.” He growled, wanting something to blame, but he knew Yutu still wouldn’t have cooperated, “He’s back inside his house, but-“
Donnelley ducked on instinct, whirling around to look back at Yutu’s house when he heard the sound of glass breaking. Then all hell let loose. The only one who caught the brunt of the automatic barrage was Charles, dropping to the ground from his run away from Yutu’s porch, screaming something Donnelley couldn’t understand through the blood pumping in his ears. Donnelley was at a dead sprint and grabbed a fistful of Laine’s jacket as he pulled her along in a mad dash for cover.
Laine took her vest from Avery, thanking him with a grateful look as she strapped the plate carrier into place. She was halfway done when the glass shattered and she turned, a bit stunned when Donnelley snatched at her jacket. She turned to run but tripped on a dip in the yard and fell against Donnelley.
“Shit,” she hissed, grabbing at him to keep from face planting. Luckily, Donnelley caught her and he’d begun dragging her easily, hefting her up so she could run with him again, the two of them sliding into cover behind another resident’s house as the shots rang out.
“Are you hit?” Donnelley asked her, his voice hurried and snippy, “Laine?”
She pressed back against the siding, the peeling paint flaking off onto her jacket. Her green eyes were wide with shock and she looked at him, “Yeah...no, I’m fine. I don’t think I’m hit. I’m good, holy shit.”
Ghost and Dave split from the group, their feet pounding the dirt road as they sprinted for cover. Dave slid into the shadow of the house opposite the one Donnelley, cursing the sudden gunfire and the twinge in his knees brought on by the unexpected running, and Ghost went with him, keeping his footing but thudding hard into the wooden wall beside Dave.
“Cocksucker,” he growled as he settled into cover.
“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!” The chant grew steadily louder as Avery plummeted like a comet behind the house Dave and Ghost were at, off his feet and landing hard on his side with his FN LMG cradled tight against his chest, “Holy shit, dude, that cop’s dead!”
“Anybody have a fucking visual?” Tex’s voice growled over the comms.
When the shooting started, Queen turned to move towards the shelter of the house where Donnelley had run. The weight of the extra guns banged against his legs but he managed to miss getting hit, unlike the poor bastard in the local uniform. He dove down behind Tex and rolled onto his back, chucking the rifle towards him.
“Fucking take that,” he said as he pulled himself up to his feet. Queen leaned up against the house, unstrapping the Honey Badger SMG and waiting for Tex to pick up the rifle.
Tex did as he was told, leaning out just a sliver from behind cover to watch the crawling Charles get perforated by another round of gunfire stitching up his ass to his nape. No more screaming from the young Officer. He sighted up on the window that Yutu was firing from, not getting a good angle to see anything but the barrel of the M60 poking out the window and squeezed off five rounds in quick succession into the nearby wall. To his credit, the shooting stopped for a moment, the barrel of the M60 retreating back behind the window.
A few precious seconds went on before another window was smashed out and the machine gun opened up again, cones of fire spilling out and the loud shots ruining what was once a quiet evening.
Ghost waited until he heard another roar of gunfire unaccompanied by impacts at his position. The moment it began he leaned out, sighted carefully, and squeezed off three precise rounds. The incoming fire stopped again and Ghost pulled back into cover, smirking beneathing his mask.
“That’s a hit,” he said smugly.
“Avery where’s our fucking suppression, we need to move up.” Tex’s voice over the comms, sounding like his teeth were clenched.
Without a word, Avery lay himself prone on the ground and sighted up. For those looking, he seemed to be smirking. With a few pounds of pressure from his trigger finger, he let loose his own string of bangs, fury coming from the end of his barrel.
As Avery’s machine gun went silent Dave darted out of cover. He sprinted a few yards in, a fragmentation grenade clutched in his hand, the pin already pulled and his hand clamping the spoon tight. The distance was further than he liked, but he cocked back and let fly. He turned the moment the grenade was loosed, sprinting back for cover.
“Comin’ back!” He shouted, legs pumping as he worked to clear the firing lines before anyone on his own team smoked him. He dove and came to an unlovely landing next to Ghost, and a couple of seconds later the grenade went off with a hard bang, a thunderclap of sound that shattered a few more of the windows on that floor and seemed to slap off the nearby buildings.
The gunfire had stopped, even Avery had ceased fire. Tex looked behind him at Laine, “Let’s move, we’re stacking on the door.” He said, tapping into the comms, he called up Ghost, “THUNDER 1-2, on me. We’re stacking on the front door, you’re point.”
Tex broke cover and trusted Laine to be behind him and Ghost was already barreling towards the door. He and Ghost’s shoulders collided with the outside wall on opposite sides of the door, Laine covering the window to Ghost’s six. Tex felt the door jamb for any signs of tripwires. Not even trusting that, he took Laine’s lack of firing into the house as not seeing any signs of movement.
“UMBRA 1-1 making entry through first deck window.” He said, using the barrel shroud of his SIG to break down the remaining glass in the window frame before crawling inside. He went to the door and caught sight of the Claymore on his side. Retrieving his wire-cutters, he made quick work of the wire and opened the door for the rest of them. He fell in behind Ghost and Laine, “Entry team is inside the target house. First deck is clear, moving to second deck.”
Ghost crossed the threshold weapon-ready, his eyes just above his optic as he scanned his sectors. He called out open doors in a hushed voice as they moved, more for Laine’s benefit than for Tex’s so that she would know what to cover. Having an amateur along on an entry irked him; he’d rather be doing this with THUNDER, just Tex, or even Lucky, but she was who he had and he was going to make the best of it.
When they reached the stairs he pinned the top landing, holding it for the split second that it took Tex to arrive and cover it so that he could start up the steps before taking it back at the middle landing and advancing to the top of the stairs.
The room looked like what it was: a warzone. Shattered glass and pooling liquor showed where fragmentation from Lucky’s grenade had done its work on an in-set bar, and the walls were stippled with more shrapnel holes and a couple of fat .300BLK impacts. Spent brass in 7.62x51 NATO was piled at the front-facing window, the M60 that they belonged to leaning drunkenly against the wall.
Ghost saw the blood and grinned beneath his mask. It was pooled thickly beside the weapon, and ran in drops and spatters towards a door off to the left. Red handprints stared from the wall where the wounded Yutu had fought for balance, and Ghost could smell the coppery tang in the air under the harsh stench of burnt powder.
He moved on the door silently, stacking for entry. A voice on the other side, Yutu’s, “That you?” Yutu spoke, reedy whisper and a string of wet coughs, “There’s a claymore and my shotgun pointed at the door. Don’t come in if you don’t want to get turned into pudding.”
“We could always shoot you through the door.” Tex growled.
“I thought you folks weren’t cops.” Yutu said, and then chuckled, “Honestly, still not sure after all that. I’ll make you a deal.”
“You’ll shoot yourself?” Tex asked.
“I’ll disarm the mine and put my weapon down if you send the woman in. Kagan.” Yutu asked. “Is that fuckin’ red haired asshole out there?”
“In the flesh.” Tex answered.
“You come in with her.” Yutu said, and the sound of him crawling to the door, then throwing his weapon aside was heard. “Have the woman come in first.”
Laine had been running on autopilot, following the men through the house as she depended on the training of an FBI field agent and more recently with Ghost and Donnelley at the range.
She clutched the PDR as they entered the last room, the stink of fresh blood and gunpowder unmistakable. Laine looked at the trail, it was a lot of blood. A killing amount if she had been looking at a crime scene. And what was this, her mind racing to how the hell they got to this point when Yutu's voice caught her attention.
She glanced at Donnelley, then shifted the gun and slipped the strap so it would hang down and leave her hands free.
"I'm coming," Laine said, loud enough for Yutu to hear. She had nothing to help him, the first aid kit she had so carefully packed was in her bag back at the trailer.
She approached the door, hesitating as she touched the door knob, feeling the tacky blood under her palm. "Coming in, Yutu."
Tex watched Laine open the door with some amount of worry, keeping his rifle at low ready, she watched her step inside and then followed in soon after. What greeted the two was about what they expected. Yutu was huddled against the wall, leaning in a corner with darkened splotches on his clothes where blood had soaked through from bullet wounds. Quite a few. He clutched a bottle of whiskey, weakly tried to hold it out, but settled for just moving it into his lap, “Drink?”
Donnelley stepped around Laine and took the bottle, sniffing at it. It was Wild Turkey, alright, “You didn’t poison this, did you?”
“What good would killing you people now I’m dead?” Yutu snorted ruefully, fixing an eyeful of amusement and annoyance at Donnelley. “Was I right, though? You’re not cops, are you?”
Donnelley swigged at the bottle, handing it back. He contemplated sticking to the lie, but what was the point, “No.”
After lingering outside listening, Ghost stepped into the doorway. He wanted a look at the man who’d ruined his lunch, and he studied Yutu for a moment, his face hidden behind glasses and mask. He eyed the hat.
“The Legion,” he said, using the old Army nickname for the 5th SFG. Ghost jerked his head at Tex. “Us too. Fuck it, tell him. He’s bleeding out anyway.” Then he turned and settled back into the doorway, watching the room outside.
Laine stood against the wall as the men whiskeyed and bonded, her gaze on the dying man. She glanced around, searching for towels or something to stop the bleeding.
"What is the deal?" She asked, stepping around the bulk of Ghost, "What did you want to tell us, what can we do for you?"
Ghost snapped his gaze over to Laine for an instant, irritated at her interruption of what he considered to be an interesting conversation. He allowed himself a split-second fantasy of thumping his helmeted head into her temple, then returned to watching the door, keying his comms.
“All stations, THUNDER 1-2. Consolidate on the house, we still have that potential inbound. Be alert for booby traps. TRIDENT 1-Actual, be advised, UMBRA and THUNDER are green.” He paused. “Local cop ate it, though.”
“That I wouldn’t blow your fuckin’ boobs off if the claymore didn’t get you.” Yutu took another swig but he coughed it back up with some blood, then tried again more successfully, wiping off his chin and leaving only more blood there instead of whiskey, “Ipiktok’s downstairs. In the cellar. When you talk to him, listen to what he says. I wish I did.”
“So, what, is the Army serving warrants now?” Yutu looked at Ghost and then Donnelley.
Donnelley agreed with Ghost, no point in lying to a man who was about to die. Dead men and tales, and all that, “We’re some sort of Government Men, you got that much right. I could tell you what we do, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me, son. I seen a lot. Saw what Ipiktok could do with just his mind and a little bit of belief.” Yutu said, his eyes drifting off to what may have been death as likely as it could be some memory.
“Well, for one, we kill or capture shamans like Ipiktok. We put things down that make Saddam and Bin Laden look like the lesser of two evils.” Donnelley spoke, sitting on Yutu’s bed. He probably wouldn’t mind.
“What’s your name?” He asked Laine, “And don’t say Kagan. I’ve seen your types in Iraq, secret squirrels. I want the real one.”
Her eyes widened at the admission of the man in the cellar, a brief flash of memory to a septic tank but she shook it off. She watched him struggling, then answered, "It's Laine, Heather Laine. But I am FBI, I wasn't lying there. I do sometimes work on missing persons. You said your daughter..."
She paused, feeling the pressure of his waning time. "Do you have a first aid kit or..."
Laine fumbled for the pockets of her plate carrier, suddenly remembering as if the voice of a combat god reminded her of the personal first aid kit packed in the vests. Yutu laughed at her, Donnelley and Ghost both knew it’d be wasted effort at this point. So did Yutu, “Some gauze isn’t going to help me, Miss.” Yutu sighed, taking another swig, “Ipiktok has dreams. I wished I listened to them more. He dreamed about this, told me I wouldn’t like how it ended when I asked. But he said he saw my daughter in a dream once too. Said she was grown now, a woman, doing better than I could’ve ever given her. She was at the Space Needle. I have a picture of her when she was a little girl and…”
Yutu cleared his throat as he whimpered, shaking his head and sniffling, “It’s in my dresser drawer. If you ever see her in Washington or wherever she is… can you tell her I love her? Tell her I looked for her when no one else did.”
Laine dropped her hands to her thighs, the last bit of decency she could give him was to take that photo with her when they left, "I will, I promise."
She watched him drink the whiskey, the scent familiar and almost reassuring. "What is he, Ipiktok? Him and his people, what are they doing?"
Yutu frowned, a chill running through him, “He said he was hiding. Running from him, and those who serve him.” He swallowed, taking another swig, “Keeping him… asleep. I’m telling you, when he speaks, listen to him. It sounds… crazy, but I know it’s true.”
Laine glanced at Donnelley then looked at Yutu, "The snow storm? Was it something called the Wind Walker?"
She recalled the research and the name in English mentioned, it sounded crazy but Laine's doubts had been settled after seeing human jerky make a bear turn to dust. “Ithaqua…” Yutu spoke the name with reverence and a fair amount of fear, “Just talk to him. Don’t kill him, he doesn’t deserve it. And whatever you do, don’t let them take him. That’s all I know. Could you leave me alone with the redhead? My time’s almost up and I don’t want to spend it thinking about other people.”
Laine nodded, "We'll listen."
She stood up, meeting Donnelley's eyes briefly before stepping past him and out of the small room. Donnelley met her eyes as she passed and then looked to Yutu as she left.
“What is it, old man?” Donnelley asked, fishing his smokes out and putting his lips around one, “You mind?”
“I figure a shitload of bullet holes and blood on the walls drove down whatever property value this shithole has already.” Yutu shrugged, “Do me a favor.”
“Huh?”
“Put my gun in my hand. Always said I’d die with my boots on and a gun in my hand.” Donnelley looked at Yutu like he was talking nonsense, “Come the fuck on, son.”
Donnelley wiggled the toe of his boot under Yutu’s shotgun and kicked it over to him after lighting his cigarette. He reached over and dragged it into his lap, making no effort to point it, let alone hold it. Donnelley leaned over and unholstered his sidearm, “How do you want it?”
“Think you know best.” Yutu held Donnelley’s gaze, “What’s your name?”
“Joseph Donnelley.”
“Don’t look away, Joe.”
“Never do.” Donnelley stood and squeezed off two rounds into Yutu’s chest, who screwed up his face at the painful burning, but he didn’t look away from Donnelley. Then he put the last one dead center through his forehead. He put his sidearm back into its holster, slipping the lock back over the butt of his pistol and walked out of the room. He sided up with Laine, “Let’s go get Irniq.”
When Tex left the room Ghost had already taken control of the house. Poker was THUNDER’s boss, but Ghost was his Number Two, the Platoon Sergeant, and he’d put the men in tactically advantageous points to cover as much of the house’s surroundings as he could. He spotted Tex and jerked his head back towards Yutu’s room.
“Need to talk,” he growled.
Tex looked at Laine, nodding downstairs for her to go without him. There was a time once where Ghost’s talks and the threat of them made him nervous, but Tex was too old now to waste his time being scared of people who bled just like him. And he and Ghost had proven to each other countless times that they were trusted brothers-in-arms so long as they both had the same enemy. He watched Laine go and then walked back into Yutu’s room, the other man’s body still warm. He put his hands on his hips and nodded at Ghost, “What’s this talk about?”
Ghost stared at Tex for a moment, then reached up and pulled down his mask. Ghost didn’t have friends. He did have men he respected, for their competence and their ferocity in a fight. Tex was one of those. The other three were Poker, Maui, and believe it or not, Foster. That was why they were having the conversation here, away from Tex’s team.
“The only reason you have a gun right now is because Queen broke right instead of left when that ‘60 opened up,” he said. His voice was firm, the tone of an NCO telling a junior just how badly he’d fucked up. “You’re UMBRA now, whatever. But THUNDER taught you better. You’re still one of us, and you still rep our name. And you can’t watch my fucking back if you don’t have your weapon.”
Ghost pointed a thick, gloved finger at Tex, not quite touching his plate. “Next time we have possible contact, you take your goddamn rifle. I don’t care if you’re pissy. Hooah? Don’t rely on a fucking junkie running the right direction when bullets fly.”
Tex usually was an asshole when receiving a counseling. And it had been very many years since he’d received one, not since Hart took him aside after talking down some cops who’d love nothing more than to put a drunkard Green Beret in his place for starting shit at his daughter’s school. But he knew he’d fucked up when he didn’t take that rifle, and he knew he’d be having this same conversation with anyone else had he been in Ghost’s shoes. A younger Donnelley might have spat about doing this for such and such years, being on a CIF team, and whatever else excuse to make himself feel better. Hell, there was still that hot-blooded urge, but...
He nodded once, knowing the only reality here and the only tangible fact was that he hadn’t taken his fucking rifle like some amateur. He looked Ghost in the eye and growled out a quiet, but professional, “Hooah.”
Ghost returned the nod, then jerked his head at the door. Talk over.
“The house is ours. We haven’t gone in the basement yet, I’ve got Queen covering it. Maui is up here keeping an eye out, Pup is downstairs where he can respond at a window with that MG of his.” Ghost pointed at the big, old machine gun that he’d left by the broken window that Maui was standing at. “‘60 looks serviceable, we can grab it if we need it. Poker is...Around, I don’t fuckin’ know. And I have Lucky looking over the claymores, see if they’re something we want to salvage. Russians show, we’ll be ready. Who do you want making entry on the basement?”
Tex took his moment, weighing out his options, “Let’s you and me go, Laine’s on her way already. Figure we can shoot some sense into this shaman if he tries anythin’ fucky. We’ll have Laine hang back while we drag him out.” Tex nodded, “We’ll keep this house long as we’re here, get Poker to radio those chuckleheads in TRIDENT to pack up and relocate. I trust this house more’n I trust that rickety fuckin’ schoolhouse trailer.”
He put his hand around the grip of his rifle hanging on its sling, “You’re point.”
Ghost smirked beneath his mask. “Always.”
>...///
Laine put the three shots out of her mind for now, even as she saw Donnelley again. Tex. She said nothing when he directed her down to the basement and left with Ghost. The door to the stairs was closed and she approached it gingerly, Yutu might have done something to it. He seemed like that type and she looked back at Queen who stood nearby.
“Did anyone check it?”
He looked up and cleared his throat, moving over next to her and made a show of running his hands all over the door and the hinges, like Indiana Jones searching for a secret entrance. Finally he touched the doorknob and turned to her, twisting it just until it clicked, his eyes widening.
Laine narrowed her gaze at his antics until Queen stood up straight and shrugged, “Yeah, looks safe enough. At least before you get inside with the shaman.”
He let the door swing open and the stairs descended into dimness, a typical single bulb hanging over the staircase. Queen looked at her,“You alright?”
“Just fine,” she answered dryly as she looked down the staircase and back at him, “What, like it’s my first shoot out.”
Queen shrugged, glancing at Tex as he followed his UMBRA teammate and then waved an arm like a butler to invite Ghost down as well.
Laine made her way down the stairs, reaching to pull the cord for the bulb to come on, the light pushing back the darkness over the stairs and the basement. There was a lamp lighting a corner with muted light and a bed, a small table made from an upended crate. As they reached the bottom step Ghost stepped to the side, his weapon at the low ready, and he hit his rifle light and swept the room quickly before training it in Ipiktok’s general direction. He kept silent, content to simply look at the shaman; he knew that freaking the man out would negatively impact the mission, but he still wanted to be ready to crack a round through his face the moment he started getting...witchy.
“Mr. Irniq?” Laine called, looking towards the bed and the lamplight.
“I heard everything out there.” Ipiktok was in the corner in the darkness, shrouded by whatever shadow the dim lighting failed to reach until Ghost and Donnelley’s lights made him shield his eyes, “I told him he wouldn’t like how it ended. If I’m not dead yet, I assume you aren’t with the others? The ones who were trying to bring me back to… where I came from?”
“He said as much,” Laine replied, stepping closer to see him. “Who are these others? Yutu mentioned you were hiding from them.”
“I am…” Ipiktok said, he stood and took a step into the light, his look forlorn and so different from the smiling man in the social media photos from the briefing. He looked older, like the years had piled over him in a span of hours, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. So much death. I’m hiding from people that… I don’t know if you would believe me.”
Laine clasped her hands, looking at the man before her, “Are they Russian? We’ve had an encounter and it was not pleasant. Over by your stronghold.”
She paused then glanced down, “I am sorry about your family. If you can help us, it would be some justice. We’ve lost people to them as well.”
Laine moved closer, to the upturned crate that had two mismatched chairs on either side. “Would you like to sit? I can see about getting you some food or coffee while we speak.”
It was the FBI repertoire but it helped her get into the mindset of questioning. While she doubted it would come to how the interrogation had gone in West Virginia, Laine at least was setting up the good cop routine.
Tex looked to Ghost and was of the same mind. He didn’t trust Ipiktok just yet and held his SIG at low ready as well. Ipiktok didn’t seem bothered by that, sitting at the table and sighing, “I would like food, yes. Yutu… I’m sorry about everything. He was a good friend, and a good man.” Ipiktok chuckled sheepishly, “Usually.”
He cleared his throat, looking at everyone arrayed in the room, “The people I’m running from can’t be put in such terms as Russian or American, or any sort of nationality you’d be familiar with.” Ipiktok reached slowly inside his shirt and withdrew a pendant that was similar to the one they’d found in the compound, but the stone was infinitely more black, “I was a slave to these people. In the… a time far from here. From one of many futures where they have succeeded. I was thrown out from the Gate into this time and place, and they have hunted me even through time.”
“I’m sure none of you are one of them or I would be dead already.” He shook his head, “Those men who came after me, they weren’t Russian. Americans, like you. They were attacked by those Russians, I woke up after the fight and just… ran.”
“I know you must not believe me, but I assure you, this is nothing but truth. I’ve been working hard to keep them asleep, but there are those whose mission it is to wake them.” Ipiktok swallowed hard, “I do not know their names, but their servants could be anywhere. After me.”
Laine sat down across from him, listening intent as he described something so odd it sounded like a one of the old B movies her mother acted in. Some sci fi horror piece with unexplained magic and a lot of death. Pushing aside her instant skepticism she left the lines open for his reasoning. Those bodies in the sky were a firm reminder.
“So...” she began, then halted and turned to Donnelley, “Tell Queen to get him something to eat, please. This is going to probably take some time.”
Laine turned back and put her phone on the crate, tapping the record app. “This is a secure phone, do you mind if I record?”
“You’re saying you were...you are a slave to these people?” she stumbled a little trying to grasp how to ask the clarifying question. “First, these people, the ones you say are not from here. The ones that hunted you. Did they attack the Americans that approached the compound and put them up in the sky? Freeze dried another? Who did that?”
“No, the Americans were the ones who were there first. One of them turned on the rest as the Russians attacked, but they were not allies.” Ipiktok explained, “He was forced to retreat and the Russians took me. One minute they had me and another I was waking up far from the place I’d made my home here, and I ran.”
“The one you’re talking about, freeze-dried. I don’t know, but it could be whatever Yutu had some grudge against had gotten to him.” He shook his head, unable to help them explain anything but what he knew about what killed him, “Ithaqua. The Wind Walker. Yutu had come to me years ago looking for his daughter, he’d heard about the things I can do and how I’ve helped some find peace with themselves or with something else.”
“I couldn’t help him. I’d dreamed of what happened to her, and I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Years, he’d thought her missing until I came to him telling of a dream I’d had of her alive and well.” Ipiktok wrung his hands together with a pained expression, “The Wind Walker had taken his daughter like it’d taken his wife, and taken many other wives and daughters of those who’d come this far north.”
“I don’t think all of him believed me. But that doesn’t matter now.” Ipiktok looked away from Laine, staring into a corner, “I am as lost here as you are. A foreigner among a people I have trouble calling my own.”
Laine glanced again at Donnelley when Ipiktok mentioned the single man they had found, shriveled and deadly to touch had turned on his team. But not with the Russians, on his own in this case. Either way, it was too close to home when she thought about her suspicions about a leak.
She clasped her hands and leaned in a little, watching the man as he spoke. When the subject turned to Yutu and his missing daughter, Laine felt the chills of recognition crawl across her scalp and down her spine. A flash of memory, standing over a dead girl in a makeshift autopsy room. Maria with her poor skinned body and the violent penetrative injuries. The old skeletons of other lost women buried in a forest.
“I think you spared him after such losses and it was with kindness you did,” she said slowly, “However, I do not want to be spared, we have to know everything. Those women taken, I’m assuming the girls native to these lands and the missing hikers. What happens to them, I know they are killed but if you can tell me how?”
Ipiktok looked back at Laine, a grimness to his eyes, “He is not a Shaman. He is not mortal. He is not human.” Ipiktok shook his head, slow, “Something has made his presence on this plane here more tangible, his thievery more frequent. He is not of this place. Some legends say he takes them, because he is lonely, doomed to wander alone for eternity. Some say, he takes them as plunder, like the fox takes the egg.”
“It is known in my time that he does terrible things to those he takes. Visits upon them a violence and domination that makes me sick to speak out loud.” Ipiktok said, inching ever close to the word without speaking it like the name of a devil lest its evil come knocking, “I’m sure you can imagine. He sits at the right hand of his mother, suckling like a babe, yet so cruel in only ways the darkest minds can be. But he is not the greatest evil there is, believe you me.”
“I’ve been here trying to lessen his influence, and the influence of those who sleep for long eons until they are awakened by the cruelties of the men who will become Emperors in their name.” Ipiktok said, “Count yourself blessed that you will not live to see the days I have before I escaped to this past.”
Laine furrowed her brows slightly as he spoke of it not being human and other planes. It was in the same vein as what he claimed about coming through a gate and other futures. It was all strange yet there was a nagging familiarity.
“Yes, I can very well imagine, it’s something I am unfortunately acquainted with in my line of work. This thing, this Wind Walker,” she began, shuffling the pieces together in her mind. A creature, for sake of argument and the fact there was little evidence to prove otherwise, took women for its pleasure, much as any serial killer would. For domination, for gratification, and to prove his own power. She could understand what Ipiktok was trying to say and spared him to describe more details for now.
“You mentioned you were trying to keep it ‘asleep’? Dormant I can imagine, or at least less active and powerful,” she said and cleared her throat, remembering Dulane. “It is not one of a kind, you said there’s other things even more evil. Then there are others like you? And others like the ones that wish to use it for their own gain. Can you describe those people, the ones that were chasing you?”
“I can’t say if there are others who have escaped as I have. But the cruel emperors’ reach is vast, as I’ve found when they could find me even here.” Ipiktok looked at each one of them in the room before looking back to Laine, “Like us. Like those two with their rifles. Like anyone. The Many-Angled Ones, Those Who Await. The Sleeper.”
“There are those who wish to wake them, and earn their favor as their most powerful slaves to lord over those of us who are not. In the land where all men have chains, the ones with the longest are kings.” Ipiktok said, “To speak the true names of their masters is to summon them, and so I’m glad my tongue has forgotten how to form it, and those living in this past have not yet learned how.”
Laine shifted on the crate, it was too much to try to comprehend at once but the horror of the very idea he described made goosebumps rise on her arms. What she could grasp was that the danger was very close and it was not just Russians.
“That amulet, we found one like it in one of the cabins,” she gestured to the one around his neck, wanting to shift away from the nightmare. “What does it mean?”
“The one my family had made?” He held a thumb under the leather cord of his own amulet, of similar make but the stone was impossibly black, “It is a mere copy of this one. This is meant as a shroud, to keep me invisible to the Sleeper and those hounds that hunt their query through time itself.”
“My middle daughter had made a replica. I forbade it, yelled at her. I regret raising my voice at her, because she could never understand.” Ipiktok frowned, “But it does not shroud me from the eyes of mortals. As I learned when I watched my family die.”
Ipiktok quirked a brow at those gathered in the room, suddenly curious, “If you are not with them, then… who are you? Why were you looking for me?”
Laine pressed her lips together slightly, “I am sorry about your family, truly. I just hope their sacrifice will not be in vain, with your help we can...”
She paused, not sure what they could do against such odds but there was something. Looking up at Donnelley, she said, “Maybe you can explain who we are better than I can. I should go check on that food.”
Laine stood she felt herself a little shaky, her knees weak for a moment and she paused before nodding to Ipiktok. Donnelley lowered his rifle, still keeping his hands on the foregrip and grip respectively. He clucked his tongue, “We’re the ones who make sure your future ain’t gonna happen. Put simple.”
Ipiktok looked at Donnelley, no newfound hope in his eyes with that sentiment. He chuckled softly, humorless, “Good luck.”
Laine left the basement, not looking at Ghost as she took the stairs up to the door. It was not until she opened it and stepped into the kitchen that she breathed out, unaware she had been holding it. She rubbed her hands over her face and hair, glancing over as Queen made eggs and sausage on the dead man’s stove.
“Figured, might as well use it,” he said, “Otherwise there’s nothing in the pantry but a couple of cans of ravioli.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, her hand on her hip. “Coffee?”
“Brewing. How’s it going down there? You look a little pale,” Queen said, reaching for a plate from Yutu’s small, chipped selection. He plated some scrambled eggs and venison sausage patties. “Dude was out of bread.”
“A little intense,” Laine admitted, “Just...intense.”
He handed her the plate and raised a brow, “It do be like that sometimes. I’ll bring the coffee when it’s done.”
Laine returned with the food and placed it on the crate table. She glanced at Donnelley, “Did you want to go over anything with him before I continue?”
She found herself wanting a cigarette badly and ran her hand over her vest, hunting for the pocket she had stashed them in. Donnelley nodded to Laine, the looked back at Ipiktok, “You said The Sleeper. What do you know about that… thing.”
“I know they lie dormant. Waiting. Stirring in their dreams in places where humanity is isolated. They feed on our energy.” Ipiktok said, “Cruelty, selfishness, strife. It leaves all that in its wake. Death.”
Donnelley furrowed his brows, a frown forming on his lips, “Death wakes the Sleeper.”
Ipiktok shot a look at Donnelley, almost as if he’d been slapped, and held his gaze. Ipiktok rose, and Donnelley could feel Ghost tense. “Where have you heard this?”
“Somewhere a ways away. Spoken by some crazy fool before he slit his own throat.” Donnelley recounted the story of how Dulane had met his end, “Why?”
“It is familiar to me. And anything familiar to me in this past is nothing good.” Ipiktok said, “I’d like to rest. I have a lot of dead friends, and no family. I’d like to sit and eat, please.”
Laine smoked a few feet away, the crackling of the cloves and the pungent odor soothing and familiar. She listened and relived in her mind the chase after Dulane and the result. And that shadow that haunted him, that she had glimpsed in the parking lot. She shivered and took a long drag.
Queen came down with a mug of coffee and a half pint of milk that was still good. He paused at the foot of the stairs, not wanting to interrupt. He felt the stomach turning sensation when he spotted the amulet, it looked like the one he found but for the stone. Laine moved over to him and took the coffee and milk from him.
He let her take it and stood back, watching and listening as the tale of Dulane wrapped up. It was one of those that stayed with a person and he still saw the cabin in his dreams, like so many other wretched sites of evil acts.
Laine put the drinks on the table, “One more thing, if you don’t mind. You said your amulet is to shield you from the eyes of those that hunt you...from the other place? What is it? We’ve seen that black stone before, accompanying murder victims. It’s strange and unsettling...”
She curled her lips like she had tasted something bad, “It’s not from here is it?”
Ipiktok looked at the eggs in front him, “It’s from them. It appears where they sleep, and emanates it’s influence and endless malignancy like a rot in the soil.” He said, “Beware those places, for it is there that their cancer of the mind is strongest. Kindness and hope itself starves and dies.”
Maria
Laine closed her eyes, the stone had been found deep in her heart and it had been put there in an act of sheer violence. It sounded just as the Wind Walker took his victims and she would bet they would find shards of black stone in its victims as well. Patterns. Patterns now that had to be followed not just here.
“Thank you, Mr. Irniq,” she said, “Enjoy your food.”
Laine turned away, glancing briefly at Donnelley before she went upstairs to finish her cigarette where the old shaman did not have to be bothered by smoke.
