The snow and wind slowed Paul’s movement as he carried supplies to his truck, a monster with chain studded wheels. Snow overwhelmed the thick plow attached to the front, stuck upon the blistered brown paint, accumulated over the rust that ate the lower half the body, and hardened the caked mud around the rims. Paul climbed into the storage cab to remove his stock of alcoholic beverages. They sunk into the high snow, disappearing. He replaced them with two four-gallon containers of gasoline, three self-heating casks of water, five packs of one day food rations, a portable television, a laser rifle, a bundle of blankets and some of Destiny’s warmer clothing. He pulled a heavy duty cord to slam the cab shut.
The mid-afternoon temperature held at twenty-seven degrees below zero; the winds came directly from the northern regions, a rare and deadly event. He had only been out a few minutes, but already his hands felt numb despite his thick wool and leather gloves. His nose turned blue as it covered with ice. Snow enveloped his heavy-duty felt boots.
The Tavern itself held an unstable ten degrees at best. Snow fell down the chimney and had overwhelmed the fire, so the old wood stove worked alone with the basement furnace. Paul pressed a small irregular brick at the fireplace to close the flue. The sound of rocks grinding came from above. Paul removed his gloves and placed them on the wood stove to dry. Its heat warmed his hands, which he rubbed furiously. When they felt alive again, he picked up the gloves and the keys to his truck.
Somebody knocked loudly at the front door. Paul walked to the side door while ignoring the knocking. Someone awaited him there anyway. Rusty hinges creaked as a finely dressed man in a black suit untouched by the snow, fancy boots, and a shiny leather jacket blocked Paul’s exit. With a twisted smile the well-dressed man pushed a nine-millimeter laser pistol into Paul’s chest and sent him backing into the tavern.
“Don’t leave just yet, Mr. Payson. I don’t want my meal ticket to blow away. You have a daughter. Where is she?”
The front door flew open so forcefully its hinges broke. Three burly men squeezed through as snow avalanched inside.
“Idiots, now we’re going to freeze!” the man yelled.
“Sorry, Tigo,” said the stockiest of the three.
“Take off your coat Mr. Payson. We don’t want any surprises, we’re here on business, strictly legitimate business. I have some inside information of financial importance. Now where’s your girl.”
“She’s not here.”
“Do you think I’d ever believe that you would be the kind of father to send your daughter away in the middle of a storm like this? Don’t play games with me. I don’t like games.”
Tigo gave a signal to a stocky man with rolled up sleeves. A tattoo snake slithered up his arm. The big guy forced Paul’s arms behind his back as some old rope circled his wrists. They set him down next to the wood stove while Tigo checked his pockets and took his wallet. Two more men entered from the back. One was an acne faced young man with long hair, and the other was a deformed older man with a broken lip and crooked eyes.
“Hey, we searched the whole house,” The boy said, “Nothing, she’s not here.”
“Tell us where to find her,” Tigo ordered.
“I don’t know where she is. She ran away.”
“What kind of father are you?!”
Tigo pistol whipped him.
“Haven’t you killed enough of my family? Can’t you leave my daughter out of this?”
Tigo looked confused, “You mean we had the honor of knocking off another family member? That’s too bad. We kill a multitude of people in our line of work, anyone dumb enough not to cooperate. I can’t help that no more than you can help your inability to do anything about it. Your daughter chose to play with fire. We’ll try to avoid killing her if you tell us where she is, but if you refuse, we’ll kill you both. So why don’t you make this easy on yourself?”
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“The mercenary doesn’t care about me. This won’t get you anywhere.”
“But he cares about your little girl. Where is she? Even the Spirit Guild fears me, so don’t mess around. Got that?”
“Why would the Spirit Guild fear a simpleton thug?”
Tigo pistol whipped him again, leaving a growing red welt across Paul’s cheek.
“Shut up old man. I control powers you couldn’t even imagine. Now tell me where you hid the girl.”
“You’re the one who killed my wife, you bastard. I thought I recognized that face. You’re the same bastard from ten years ago, only you were an old man then and now you’re young.”
“Interesting. What gave it away?”
“That scar on the back of your neck, that deep long scar that looks exactly like the one I burned into my mind ten years ago.”
“Interesting. So now you know something. Where’s your daughter?”
“I don’t know. Even if I did, I’d never tell you.”
The monster of a man named Snake grimaced as Tigo turned to him.
“I think you should explain to Mr. Payson why no one who has an inkling about what we are lives to gain bragging rights.”
Snake slammed his fist into his left hand. The floor moaned as he approached with slow thuds. Paul kicked the man’s stomach. His chair went backward against the stove but Snake offered nothing in return except for his fist slamming Paul’s stomach so forcefully that vomit spewed over his shirt. Snake pulled his victim by the collar, his black bushy mustache tickled Paul’s nose. Sardine paste scents oozed from Snake’s breath.
“Next time, I’m going to make you hold a bowl and eat it again,” Snake said.
“Anything to say now?” Tigo asked.
Paul remained silent, he could barely breath as Snake punched him again. The old man with the crooked eyes held the bucket as Paul puked. They poured the contents in a bowl and sat it in front of him while he heaved.
“Eat it or I’ll start knocking out teeth, one by one.”
Paul slanted to drop the bowl, then kicked it as it fell. The chunks spilled over Snake’s black shoes. With his wrists tied, Paul dodged wild punches until he dove behind the bar. A sharp hook in the wood cut the ropes. Before he could get his hand on the pistol tucked under the counter, Snake smashed his way through. A backbone snapped and then cracked apart as it was stomped repeatedly. Paul went limp. Blood flowed from his mouth.
“You killed him,” Tigo yelled, “You’re not supposed to kill him until you find out where the girl is!”
“Sorry, I got worried. Why don’t we just get Defacto, directly like.”
“You infernal idiot. He won’t fight us on our turf, and anyone who ever tried to chase him has died.”
The old man with crooked eyes had an idea, “What if Defacto has the girl? Maybe she’ll want him to rescue her father.”
“Good thinking, you just may get some favor yet. They don’t know he’s dead. That just might work. We’ll take the body home and hold him for ransom.”
-----
Fade examined the code bar of the key card before slipping it back into the pocket of his trench coat. It wasn’t activated yet, but he suspected Destiny could remove the locking code, much simpler than the coup she pulled off by placing herself on the Imminent Destruction’s security clearance.
Nearby, Corporal Jackson helped Nicole out of the immersion chamber. He kept her behind a set of covers so she could wrap herself with fresh gauze. She put on her old uniform though, despite it being badly torn and stained liberally with dried blood. She pulled her hair back into a short pony tail before she sat next to Fade.
Fade smiled, “Hi.”
“You!” Nicole said, “So you’re Defacto?”
“Your voice?”
“My voice device was broken.”
Her combat boots had no ties; they tightened automatically to fit any size below thirteen with a press of the tongue. Her size eight foot fell into the boot. However, the inside conformed perfectly to the shape of individual feet.
“I’m surrounded by women who like to live dangerously,” Fade said.
“I would be careful about what you say to me if I were you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it; besides, the Lieutenant already knows about your softer side. Why else do you think he’s sending you with me? Don’t you even want to know what we’ll be doing?”
“I’ll worry about that later,” she said as she got up and left.
Destiny kicked her feet in rhythmic successions against the side of her bed as she hummed an assuring tune. Fade relaxed with his usual air of apathy and stared at her. Bert slept in his chair. Karen also slept using her arms as pillows. Her covers had been on the floor for over an hour. Nobody could tell what position she would assume next. Her arm hung from the bed and her mouth opened. She snored. A bit of drool oozed onto her chin. She rolled onto her back. Her left leg bent upwards while the other stretched over the bed’s edge. Corporal Jackson slept in a metal chair that leaned against a computer pillar. With so many people resting, Lieutenant Forgisom felt obliged to enter the infirmary quietly.
“The commander would like to see you in the training room. You are to bring only Miss Payson,” Forgisom whispered.
Bert suddenly woke up, “I’m going too.”
Destiny hopped off the bed enthusiastically. “It’s nice to be equated for a change.”
“What’s this about?” Fade asked.
“You’ll learn soon enough.”