Cal piled food on a plate, found the guy he was at the party for and sat down next to him.
“What’s up, Del?”
“Oh,” the man glanced over briefly before returning to stare listlessly at his food, “nothing much,” he shrugged.
Depression was a natural thing people had to suffer through.
Normally, he wouldn’t interfere beyond just being willing to lend an ear if wanted.
The situation wasn’t normal.
The stakes were too high.
He nudged Del just a little.
“I know we aren’t close and we haven’t talked much in the last couple of years. Anything you want to talk about?”
“Actually, yeah,” Del blinked. “I’m just struggling to see the point. Why am I here? I can help a little, but what does it matter? Even if things go great people are probably going to die and the ones that make through to see tomorrow will just have to live with the guilt while preparing and waiting for the next terrible thing. Monsters, fish people, the fog, demon animals and now, slavers. There’s always something following the last horror. I’m just, like, really tired of it all,” he sighed. “And, yeah, I know… I volunteered, but then how can I not, you know? Because if I don’t the only people I have left will die and that means that I’ve wasted the sacrifices of everyone else that died before. I’ve wasted—” he began to sob softly.
He patted Del on the back and continued to listen.
“Keisha, Rory… so many others… I can’t—”
“You feel like you have to do this or their deaths become meaningless? I don’t think that’s right and I don’t think any of them would see it the same way. We need their deaths to mean something and to me… I’d like to think of that something as life. Us. Living. And you don’t feel alive, from what you’re saying.”
Del nodded slowly.
“Then that is the true waste. Listen, I can take you out of here. Put you in Captain Butcher’s ranger base camp outside of the city. It’s not exactly safe and you’ll still be involved in this Quest, but the being there won’t carry the same risks as being here. Understand?”
“I know. I know that I’m endangering the others, but I just can’t leave them like that.”
“Yeah, you’re here for a reason. You’re important and losing you would hurt, but that’s with you in the right frame of mind. Not like this.”
“Fuck! I know that. It’s just been so hard,” Del shook his head, “it’s the time of year. Christmas, New Year’s… reminds me of loss. I had a huge family once. The holidays were always my favorite time of the year. We’d always come together at my grandparents’. All the uncles, aunts, cousins. Loud, great food and laughs. It’s different for you. You didn’t lose most of your family. You didn’t lose everything. I had just graduated college. Had a great job lined up. Went to bed one night and lost it all when I woke up to a gremlin trying to bite my face off. It’s like my whole life stopped then and there. Fuck! I’m almost forty and I’ve never fallen in love for real. I should have a loving family of my own right now. I always imagined marrying a great guy, having three wonderful children. Adoption or using a surrogate, it didn’t matter. Just having children to share our love with was enough.”
“None of that is impossible…”
“Isn’t it, though? The world is full of monsters, human and not. How can I raise kids in that? How can I even find love? I could die at any moment. They could… just like Rory. It was so stupid. The fishmen got both of us and it should’ve been me,” Del sobbed. “I never told anyone this. I don’t even know why I’m telling you. They were going to grab me for the torture, but Rory jumped them. He forced them to take him instead. And then he died. I heard his screams— I never told him— not that I could’ve. He wasn’t gay. There was nothing there. Just a stupid crush. After that… I sorta just stopped… living.”
“Your feelings matter and if he was a good friend he’d have understood. If he was a good friend he wouldn’t want his death weighing on you like this. It’s been over six years and I know it’s easier for me to say this than it is for you to accept it… there is nothing wrong with moving on. You remember the people you lost. In continuing to live you honor them, their memory, their sacrifice. I’d imagine you’d feel the same way if fate had taken the other path and you were the one that died in those tunnels.”
“I know all of that on an intellectual level. Emotionally? I just can’t. So, what should I do?”
“That’s all up to you, man,” he shrugged. “Get yourself back to your best mindset, easier said than done, and stay here. Or I take you to the rangers’ camp if you think that’s something you can’t do within the next week. No one’s going to judge you either way.”
Del stared at his plate for a long time.
Tears dried.
Cal didn’t touch his food, merely sat there.
The others in the suite kept a respectful distance, but they had all listened in on the conversation.
How could they have not?
Some understood what Del was going through.
After all, they’d been there before.
They had bled alongside him. Had lost the same people. Lost other people.
Some days, weeks or months were good. Some weren’t.
It was a matter of pushing yourself through the bad times. They used the techniques that worked for them.
Some didn’t understand, but they didn’t begrudge him the pain.
He had proved himself in the past and they knew that he’d prove himself in the future.
Everyone went through tough patches, even if they didn’t do it in the same way.
If Del pulled himself together soon… then good. They needed him.
If he couldn’t?
Then it was a good thing that Cal was offering him a different path.
“I’m staying. I’ll get it together. I won’t screw it up for anyone else,” Del said.
“If that’s what you really want to do.”
“Yeah… it is.”
He ate in silence next to Del slowly, subtly pulling the man out of the drowning depths.
Rino caught his eye and nodded in approval.
“Dude, how much longer do we have to be here? It’s been over a month and I’m getting kinda tired of the slavery,” Trevor sat down next to him.
“A month at the longest. Three weeks at the earliest.”
Alexa sat down across from him. “So, now that we’ve got you here. How about you tell us the whole plan? And none of that opsec crap,” she said.
“It’s best that you don’t see the whole picture.”
“In case they torture us for it,” Kare nodded sagely from where she and Rino stood at the kitchen nook.
“They’re growing suspicious.”
“The surprise inspection in which they found nothing,” Hillary said.
“They won’t find anything as long as you guys don’t do anything too obvious. No yelling on the street corner about how you’re here to free enslaved, that sort of thing.”
Conversation ebb and flowed through dinner and desert.
Demi cornered Cal in the kitchen as he was making himself a banana split.
“How’s Hanna?” she said.
“Struggling a little mentally. Fine physically.”
“I have concerns.”
“Me too.”
“Do they involve your willingness to sacrifice people to succeed?”
“I’m number one on that list.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It isn’t supposed to be. We been through several of these things. I’d like to think you’ve got a good idea of how I operate.”
“Time and age have a way of wearing on a person. It’s made me understand why people get more conservative as they get older. It’s the fear, you see? We get closer to death, so we become more afraid of everything. You start looking for comfort wherever you can find it. You pray for the past that your memories make seem better than it probably was,” she said. “Although, I’ll rip anyone that says things are better now than they were before the spires a new asshole. That’s a hill I’m dying on.”
“I’m biased on that one. I’ve been through some shitty things because of the spires, but I have powers, which helped me survive them. Sure, I suffered, but I’m never truly powerless to do something about it in this world. Not like in the old world. So, good overall for me. Terrible for the billions that died. Terrible for those that suffered and continued to suffer. Then again, I could argue that human life was suffering for the vast majority of people. It was only really good for those that were lucky enough to be born in the right places and in the right classes. For the rest, there was no compassion or empathy. Their value lay strictly in what the upper classes could extract out of them,” he shook his head, “kind of what I’m doing with all of you, but I tell you and myself that it’s for a good cause.”
“No one can argue with that. I only hope that you’ll never forget that we aren’t like you. What would you have done if no one volunteered? What if we all had told you to pound sand when you asked for help?”
“Plans would change, but the objectives would remain the same. Slavery existed before the spires. It was always a part of our world. It wasn’t as openly done where we lived, but it was still there. Openly in other parts of the world, hidden in plain sight in our cities and towns. Or called something else to make us feel good about ourselves. There’s a reason the constitution had an amendment that kept slavery legal as a punishment for crimes. People just couldn’t help themselves. Profits over all.”
“None of that really matters anymore. There is no more America as a country.”
He raised a brow. “You didn’t see those guys claiming to be from the real U.S. Government?”
“Oh, no. I know about them. They reached out to Rebekah. Had a chat with her. Made some noise about her and us owing them allegiance. As far as I’m concerned they lost that right by hiding themselves in their bunkers and leaving the rest of us to survive on our own. If they’re even telling the truth. Wouldn’t be the first time a group tried to claim they were the legitimate Feds.”
“Rebekah was a soldier. What’d she have to say?”
“She’s still with us, isn’t she?” Demi nodded over to the woman seated on the couch chatting with Max. “What’s your take on it?”
“Same as yours,” he ate a spoonful, “they’ll want to return to the status quo pre-spires. That’s simply impossible now. That society is dead and gone. Not with people being individually powerful enough to ignore things like the good old monopoly on force that the government had. Nor can they force people into working multiple, crappy jobs for crappy pay by holding basic necessities like four walls and a roof, food and medical care over their heads now that all of that is essentially free. I mean, they can try to force people to live how they want, like these slavers, but as long as I’m around I’ll have something to say and I don’t intend to be nice or respectful about it. People should be free, as long as that freedom isn’t oppressing others.”
“What happens if you get tired of doing stuff like that? What if you start thinking that the only way you can get some rest is to make people live how you want them to?”
“Because I don’t want that kind of power. I don’t like fighting other sapients. I’d rather not fight at all. I wish I could use my powers to explore this world with my family. There are so many things I could be doing instead of this. Things like, finding Atlantis, seeing what’s on the bottom of the Marianas Trench, finding out if there’s something under the ice in Antarctica, is the Earth actually hollow, you know, stupid curiosity stuff. Hell, I can fly to the moon. Find out if there’s an alien base. Although, the spires kinda make all that sound a little trite,” he shrugged. “It’d be enough if I could simply spend my days with my family traveling the world and experiencing all the natural and remaining man made wonders the world has to offer.”
“I’d settle for being able to retire one day,” Demi said.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“You can. No one says you have to work till you die.”
“It’s not simply work, is it? Watch Commander is my class. And a class is who you are. I’m needed to keep people safe. To give my guys the best chance to survive so that one day they can retire.”
“Sure… if that’s what you want. Although, you aren’t locked into that. Who you are changes, like you said, with time and other things. There’s nothing saying that your role has to stay the same. It can change. It can remain valuable to others. When it starts dragging on you. When the weight on your shoulders begins to get too heavy. I’d suggest you already have a succession plan in place. You’d feel a lot better about it if you did. You can slowly share the burdens of command until you’re truly ready to let them go.”
“Maybe one day… but that’ll only happen if we make it to that day and I’m concerned about this Quest.”
“No lies, so am I.”
“But we’re committed.”
“Not necessarily. If you ask, I’ll take the Watch out of here. Like I told Del, I’ll move you to the ranger camp outside of the city. You can stay there and play defense for the rest of this Quest.”
“That’ll upend your plans.”
“Your sudden disappearance will cause the slavers to really pay attention and start looking. It will make the Quest more difficult to successfully pull off for everyone else.”
“You’re not really giving us a choice then.”
“I mean this in the most sincere way possible… I won’t judge you for it.”
“Just tell me that the role you’re having us play is vital to freeing these people.”
“I wouldn’t have asked any of you in the first place if it wasn’t. It’s not enough just to free them. We need to make sure it can’t be repeated.”
“I know I can’t demand anything from you, but I will anyways,” she said. “Don’t waste our lives. I’ve been at this long enough to know that nothing is guaranteed to us. If some of us do die, then make sure it matters or I will turn into an actual ghost and I will haunt the hell out of you.”
“I’d hope that you wouldn’t. Good people deserve to move on to whatever is next and not stick around this place. Besides, do you want some necromancer to enslave your ghost for eternity? Because that’s a thing, not the ghost enslavement part, but the necromancer part. A few rangers got the class from the San Diego undead war. They’re not summoning ghosts… at least people’s ghosts, but I can’t say that it’ll be the same for other necromancers that lack good moral and ethical foundations.”
“Keep an eye on Hanna. She’s alone out there. Don’t hang her out to dry if things go bad,” she said.
He nodded.
Demi wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t say the words because he couldn’t guarantee it.
The Quest took priority.
Thousands of enslaved people’s lives hung in the balance.
Many thousands more if the slavers were allowed to continue their existence.
What was one life weighed against that?
Even if it was someone he had fought beside for years. One of the few people he had learned to trust.
The best he could tell himself was that he’d put his own life first on the chopping block before the others.
He knew that the watch commander wouldn’t be happy to hear that.
So, he remained silent and focused his attention on his banana split.
It didn’t taste good.
Not anymore.
The guilt led him to interfere with their natural thoughts.
He eased their worries so that, at least for the night, their anxiety for themselves and for each other seemed like distant things pushed to the backs of their minds where they became less real.
For the first time since they set out for the slaver kingdom their minds were at ease.
When it was time for him to leave he left one last present.
Their dreams would be warm, happy ones and they’d wake refreshed.
----------------------------------------
Jayde screamed.
She sat up and started punching the air, punctuating the loud explosions that rattled the bedroom windows.
“What kind of moron schedules the finals on New Year’s?” she snarled.
Hayden snored like a bear from the other bed… or like train rumbling down a tunnel.
Jayde was used to that.
The fireworks reminded her too much of battle.
The door swung open.
Dayana.
A flick of the wrist.
Something soft hit her face.
“The fu—” she peered at a small plastic bag through blurry eyes.
“Use them!” Dayana snapped before slamming the door shut.
Two soft squishy things.
“Oh… yeah,” she muttered.
They had ear plugs.
Shrugging, she tore the packet open and stuffed her ears.
She fell back onto her pillow and was snoring within minutes.
----------------------------------------
Jackson Stephens, police officer, formerly of the Miami PD, which had ceased to exist in the weeks after the spires since it turned on itself. Some officers saw the apocalypse as a chance to remove the thin veneer they hid behind to become worse than the actual monsters. Some went the other way. They fought the monsters. Most did what came naturally to humanity. They tried to take care of their own families and friends.
Jackson had been part of the latter group.
He had been a young rookie back then. His oldest was just a few months old. Only a little older than his marriage.
And thus he had survived to the present day alongside his family.
The majority of the former two groups had died long ago.
Jackson Stephens, police officer, king’s guardian.
Husband and father.
Slavemaster.
And here he was again, having to interrupt family time on New Year’s Eve for a murder.
The king’s investigator, a man by the name of Benoit had sent a message for Jackson to meet him outside a home.
“What’s this about?” Jackson eyed the one dark home on the block. Light shined from the rest and he could hear the sounds of people enjoying family time as he should’ve been.
The sound of distant fireworks filled the night sky.
He was supposed to light some with his kids and wife.
Nothing big, sparklers, a few roman candles and tiny firecrackers.
“This is inside your area of responsibility as a guardian, isn’t it? Or did I make a mistake?” Benoit said.
He only knew the investigator in passing.
He wasn’t familiar enough with Benoit to know if the man was being a smart ass.
“Yeah, it is. So, why’d you call me out here.”
“Your responsibility and manpower,” Benoit gestured toward the dark house. “I might’ve tracked that murderer that did in that orgy on Christmas.”
Jackson paled in the dim street light.
He remembered the scene.
The slaughter.
And this stupid investigator called him out here with only a handful of slave officers to keep them both safe.
“I need to get in there to pick up the next piece of the puzzle, but it’s looking mighty dark and my inquisitive Skills are telling me that I don’t want to be walking up in there with only one slave bodyguard,” Benoit gestured to the brawny, collared man flanking him protectively.
“I only brought five of my officers!”
“Thought you’d have more with you,” Benoit nodded. “I can wait while you holler for more.”
Jackson made the call and within ten minutes had 15 slave officers to add to his original 5.
“This is your thing. What do you want me to order them to do?” he said.
“That there house belongs to Lord Stuart’s money man—”
“The king already warned the lords that they—”
“Don’t interrupt me, son,” Benoit chided. “You always do what your daddy told you when you were young?”
“Just get to the point.”
“Them lords will nod and tell the king what he wants to hear while going right behind his back. You think Lord Stuart’s just gonna let it go? Someone carved up his youngest boy like a Sunday Turkey. That demands a response and now that someone’s coming after the rest of his people…”
“You think Lord Reagan’s behind this?”
“Don’t rightly know, but I aim to find out. So, send in a couple of your slaves. I want them to trip any traps or ambushes in that there dark, foreboding home… but tell them to do their best not to step or touch anything. I need any evidence that might be in there to be in decent shape to stay on the trail.”
Jackson regarded the house.
It seemed to warn him off.
A shiver went up his spine and he had the sudden urge to turn around.
He should’ve been at home embracing his wife and kids.
Instead, he took a deep breath and addressed his slave officers. “George, Herbert… you heard the man.”
“Yes, master.”
The two dark-skinned men gave him that eerie smile and saluted.
They readied their weapons and quickly approached the front door, which was, fittingly, ajar.
“You ever envy that?” Benoit said.
“What?” his focus had been strictly on his two slaves as they entered the house.
“The lack of fear. Sometimes I get jealous. Then I remember that they’re slaves and I’m not,” Benoit gave a crooked smile.
He remained silent.
What kind of stupid question was that?
Of course he didn’t envy them.
They were slaves.
Who in their right mind would think that was a desirable situation to be in?
Better them than him or his family.
That was for sure.
Time seemed to pass with the agonizing pace of an old, decrepit tortoise trying to cross a baking desert road.
“No explosions, no screams… should be alright,” Benoit said.
“Wait for them to come back.”
The last thing he needed was for a king’s investigator to get killed while he was with him.
He kept a low profile for a reason.
Nothing good came out of getting dragged into the king’s and nobles’ notice.
Guardian Captain of a precinct was the highest position he had aspired to.
High enough to give his family a good and safe life.
Not too high that they’d get entangled in all the bullshit.
The two slave officers emerged from the home.
“What did you see?”
“Deceased male in the master bedroom, suspended from the ceiling with ropes,” George said.
“Essential employees?” he frowned. The main financial adviser to one of the top lords would have servants and guards. If not his own, then definitely on loan from the lord.
“None present,” Herbert said.
“Well, I suppose I need to go take a look at the body,” Benoit sighed. “You mind?” he gestured toward the dark, yawning void that was the open doorway.
“George, Herbert, accompany Investigator Benoit. Protect him, follow his commands.” He addressed the rest of his slaves, ordering them to establish a perimeter around the house before entering it himself.
The investigator had turned the lights on.
It made things better, but Jackson still couldn’t shake the crawling sensation along his spine.
“Well… shit,” Benoit said as the two of them stared at the dead body through the doorway.
Just like the slaves had said it was suspended from the ceiling with ropes.
“Is he…?”
“Captain Stephens, I do believe he is supposed to be in the middle of some sort of sexual act. It’s the only reason that could go toward explaining why there’s a string holding his little member up,” Benoit said. “As to the why? I haven’t the faintest clue… except… perhaps there isn’t a reason. It’s just one big mockery.”
“Of him? Lord Stuart?”
“Of… everyone—” Benoit’s eyes widened. “Danger sense,” he hissed, “get the rest of your slaves in here, now! They need to protect us!”
“What—”
Before he could say more the lights flickered and died.
An unnatural silence descended over them.
He drew his pistol silently cursing having left his heavier weapons in the truck.
He had grown too secure.
“What is this?” Benoit whispered.
The shadows on the walls danced as if alive.
Everything he saw had a crimson tint to it. As though splashed with blood.
Death to the masters.
A hushed whisper in his ear made him spin, pistol forward.
The shadows on the bedroom wall giggled at him.
“Do something, boy!” Benoit huddled behind his big bodyguard.
“Cover the hallway!” he shouted at the man. “Herbert, check under the bed. George, the bedroom.” He covered the entryway into the master bathroom. He’d send one of his slaves to check it once they were done. “You! I order you to Cease and Desist!”
No collar, no orders, the whisper giggled in his ears.
This time he didn’t fall for it, he kept his eyes and pistol aimed into the master bathroom.
“Under my authority as Guardian Captain appointed by the king, I hereby, place you Under Arrest! You will immediately show yourself and comply!”
Not my king. Not your authority. No authority. No command… all slavers die,” the voice whispered in his ear.
He grabbed his control rod, felt the reassuring warmth and raised his voice. “Code Blue! All units on me—” his eyes widened as something sharp and hot kissed his lower back slipping up and under his armored vest.
A small hand grabbed his forehead and pulled his head back with surprising strength.
“You should’ve stayed for the fireworks.”
A blade caressed his exposed throat.
He tried to shout, but only a wet gurgle came out.
“No more fireworks with the kids. No more daddy for the kids. Collars for the kids? The wife?” the voice teased. “Never know… happy New Year, Guardian Captain Jackson Stephens. Bad luck that the investigator was sharper than most. Just a few minutes later and I would’ve missed you.”
The last sight in Jackson’s vision was the blood-red shadows dancing on the walls.
The last sound was the desperate scream of Investigator Benoit.
The last thing he felt was the hot lifeblood flowing down his chest as he fell.
Jackson Stephens didn’t feel his face slam into the hardwood floor.