Stories From the Shadowlands (20 page)

He opened the main doors in time to let out four of the enormous, inhuman Guards. Each of them was at least nine-feet tall, vaguely bovine in appearance, and clad in heavy armor. The first one to notice him there nodded his giant, bulbous head. His glowing, emerald eyes, just visible beneath his jutting brow, held a gentle humor. “Corporal,” he grunted. “The Captain was looking for you. He was considering sending a patrol to find you.”

“Thanks, Tamim. I’ll find him.”

Tamim let out a rumbling laugh. “Good luck.”

He and the other Guards thumped down the steps, lowering their visors to block out the light. A few people on the sidewalk looked at them enviously, as if wondering if it was possible to club them to the ground and steal those visors. Some had actually tried, a move of desperation since the helmets were way too heavy for a normal human to wear. You could buy sunglasses at some of the shops along the street, but they melted in your hands as soon as you set foot outside.

Jim wanted to head for the shower room and sponge Carrie from his skin before his patrol, but he figured he should let the Captain know he’d returned. He’d just turned down the long hallway toward the central meeting room when the voice called out from behind him.

“You are two hours late, Corporal.”

Jim pivoted on his heel. A thick-limbed man marched up the corridor toward him, wearing sweat-drenched fatigues. For all the steely gray hair at his temples, Carlos, the Captain of the Guards of the Blinding City, was far from decrepit. He’d kicked Jim’s ass on many an occasion. But he’d taught him a lot, too. And there was something brutally satisfying about using his fists and baton, about the slap and thud of weapons on flesh, about the pain of losing a well-fought battle. It was the only time Jim felt even remotely satisfied, those moments after hitting the mat, when his muscles were screaming and his nose was gushing blood.

Jim jerked to attention and saluted, his movements sharp and precise. He knew better than to be defiant. “Apologies, Captain. I got lost.”

Carlos stepped up close, his nostrils flaring. “Yes. I have some sense of what you got lost
in
,
meu querido amigo
.” He stepped back and sighed, crossing his arms over his stocky chest. “You’re only hurting yourself, Jim.”

Jim nearly winced at the pitying tone from the Captain. “Trying to cut back, sir.”

“I’m wondering if you need some time in the Quiet Chamber, to help you shake some of this off.”

Cold sweat prickled on Jim’s upper lip, but he forced a relaxed smile onto his face. If his fear showed, he was guaranteed a trip to the Quiet Chamber. “I think a shower might do the trick, sir.” Dammit, his voice was shaking.

Carlos’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you visited the Quiet Chamber?”

Seventeen days, four hours, three minutes, and nineteen seconds ago
. “Uh, I spent a little time in there yesterday morning, I think? Just to clear my head.”

The corners of the Captain’s mouth tightened. “You didn’t leave your name on the log.”

Jim’s heart was beating so hard that he was almost certain Carlos would be able to hear it. The last time he’d been in the Quiet Chamber hadn’t been by choice. None of the times he’d been in there had been by choice. He’d always been tossed in, naked and raw and shivering, and left to stare at the white, padded walls which seemed to be made of light itself, to drown in absolute silence, with no noise or entertainment to distract him from the thoughts in his head or the ravenous hunger eating him from the inside out. It was the ultimate torture. Jim swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. “I must have forgotten, sir,” he said hoarsely. “I will make sure to sign the log the next time I spend time in there.”

Carlos nodded. “Good. Make it tomorrow. After your patrol. That’s an order.”

No no no no no no
NO NO NO
—“Yes, sir.”

Carlos patted his shoulder. “You’re making progress, Jim. Keep it up.” He walked past Jim, headed for his quarters.

Jim sagged, the tension draining from him as quickly as it had built. He watched the Captain turn a corner, then he headed in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the grumbling in his belly. He’d fill it soon enough.

He paced the long stone hallways free from decorations of any kind. So many times, he’d been tempted to sneak out here and hang some pictures, paint some color on these walls. Most of the other Guards didn’t seem to mind, but it drove Jim crazy. There was nothing to
look at
here. It was why, despite the blinding light, he preferred it out in the city, where there was no end to the distractions he could find.

He finally reached the spot where the hallway dead-ended in a steel door. Next to the wall sat a notebook on a low wooden bench, with a nub of a pencil lying next to it. Jim put his ear to the door. Silence. He picked up the log and read it, then smiled. The Chamber’s current occupant would be in there for another hour at least.

He had just scooped up the pencil and begun to scrawl his name when the door to the Chamber flew open.

A grin split the face of the man in front of him, who looked utterly refreshed and relaxed as he stepped from the padded silence of Quiet Chamber. His teeth and the whites of his eyes were stark in contrast to his skin, which was the darkest brown Jim had ever seen on any human.

“Ah, young brother!” said Bomani. “I was coming to find you for our patrol.”

His smile faded as he saw the notebook in Jim’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Jim scribbled his name off the log. “Ah, I was going to take some time in the Chamber. I didn’t see that you were in there.”

Bomani’s eyes traveled from his own name in the notebook, written in big block letters, to Jim’s face. “Of course not. Easy to get confused.” He took the notebook from Jim’s hands and set it back on the bench. “Come with me to have dinner before we patrol. It’s not good to walk the streets hungry.” His hand, knuckles huge and thickly creased, closed over Jim’s shoulder. “It is temptation you don’t need.”

Jim shrugged him off. “Sure. I could eat.”

But as he followed Bomani down the hall to the cafeteria, he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If there was a bottom to his appetite, Jim surely hadn’t found it yet. Still, a trip through the food line was always valuable.

Decent food was currency in this city, and Jim had learned that it could buy him whatever he wanted. He smiled as the smell of brown bread and grilled meat reached him, already feeling the needle in his skin, the liquor on his tongue, the hands on his body.

Tonight would be the night. After his patrol, he would kill this hunger for good.

Chapter Two

Jim walked with Bomani down the sidewalk, doing his best to match his pace to the slow, measured steps of the older man. Bomani never hurried. Jim hated to patrol with him and nearly always tried to switch, because he inevitably ended up feeling like he was going to explode, like his impatience was finally going to detonate and vaporize him on the spot.

Jim watched Bomani out of the corner of his eye, half-resentful, half-awed. The whispers had started weeks ago, soon after Bomani emptied out his room and gave away all of his possessions. Jim had seen it for himself; the Guard’s room now only contained a bed, a chest, and a single wooden chair. Bomani’s room didn’t look much different from the Quiet Chamber, so he didn’t know why the guy spent at least an hour in there every day. The other Guards said it meant that Bomani would be released into the Countryside soon.

“How long have you been here?” Jim asked.

Bomani’s eyes scanned slowly from alley to sidewalk to street. The Guards’ sole purpose was the keep the peace, to keep the residents of the Blinding City from hurting each other too badly in their quests to fulfill their wildest dreams, in their race to quench the mad thirst, the gnawing hunger. One by one, they came through the city Gates, ready to pick up where their lives had left off, their eyes shining with desire and greed and want and need, their hands grasping, their mouths watering. Guarding them was no easy job, because other people were only objects of potential pleasure or sources of potential wealth.

“I have been here for too long, I think,” Bomani said with a melancholy smile. “My skull is very thick.”

“Years?”

“Almost a century, young brother. Like I said, too long.”

“But you’ll get out soon. That’s what everyone’s saying.”

Bomani shook his head and rubbed his hand over the thick mat of tightly curled hair on his scalp. “I would never presume. That will be the Judge’s decision.”

Jim couldn’t control the shudder that shook his body. If he never saw that woman again, it would be too soon. Of course, apparently that was the only way out of this place, so at some point, he’d have to.

They paused to wait for a light to change. Bomani shaded his eyes and squinted across the intersection, and Jim did the same. The chorus of honking horns and blaring billboards, one spewing something about purified cocaine being available at the best prices down on Krane Street, was nearly deafening. “Maybe we should check out the new shop,” Jim said, his nose already tingling.

Bomani’s friendly gaze sharpened with suspicion. “Perhaps. There’s been a lot of activity on Krane in the last week. Let’s go.”

Jim wiped his brow as they walked across the street. His eyes got snagged on the legs of a willowy girl leaning against the wall of a dance hall. As his gaze skimmed up her body and latched onto her lips, the reddest lips he’d ever seen, his stomach clenched and his body roared to life. She looked up like she felt his eyes on her. Her long black hair shone under the glare of the lights, and her face… perfection. She looked about his age, and her skin was smooth and creamy and healthy. His fingers twitched, desperate to touch her, to close the distance between them completely. Her gaze slid over him, and a lazy smile played on her lips.

Jim’s feet were in motion before he realized what was happening.

But he’d only taken two steps when the handle of Bomani’s baton hooked over his shoulder. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

Jim grimaced at the hard edge in the other Guard’s usually mellow voice. “I thought I saw—”

“I’m trying to be kind, Jim, but if you insist on abandoning your duty, I will have no choice but to report your conduct to the Captain. He needs to know you are struggling.”

A sick swell of anger rose in Jim’s chest. “He doesn’t need to know anything. Like I said, I thought I saw some suspicious activity.” He jerked away from Bomani’s baton. The last thing he needed was an overseer.

Bomani caught up with him, eying the young woman who had captured Jim’s attention. She gave the older Guard the same seductive smile she’d given Jim, but it didn’t have the same effect. He frowned. “She is doing nothing but waiting for a man to use.”

Yeah, and I’d gladly be the guy
. “Oh. I thought maybe she was armed.”

Laughter burst from Bomani’s throat, and he slapped Jim on the back. “That’s a good one. Where would she hide it?”

Damn good question. Jim was saved from having to answer by a piercing scream coming from the alley next to the dancehall. He and Bomani broke into a sprint, shoving past the girl, who looked over her shoulder and screeched something in a language Jim didn’t understand.

Bomani had been wrong. She wasn’t looking for fun. She was probably looking for
them
. Guards. She was the lookout for whoever was hiding in the alley.

The alley was narrow enough for them to have to jog single file until it opened up several feet down, where the space was deep enough to cultivate the shadows that died quick deaths everywhere else in the Blinding City.

It wasn’t dark enough for them to miss the three struggling figures against the chainlink fence at the end of the alley, though. One man, holding a girl down as she fought frantically. Another, trying to wrestle her legs apart.

“Stop,” Jim shouted, putting on the speed. “By order of the Guard!”

One of the men leaped up, pulling a long knife from his coat and slashing it through the air. He wasn’t going to give up his prize easily. The other guy punched the girl and tossed her aside, then clamored to his feet as well. He, at least, didn’t have a knife.

Jim ripped his baton from his belt. Behind him, Bomani’s heavy steps told him his partner was close.

“I’ll take the one on the left,” Bomani shouted, then streaked past Jim toward the guy with the knife. A moment later, Jim was locked in combat as well.

It turned out the guy without the knife didn’t need one. He blocked Jim’s descending baton with the flat of his hand, then drove his other fist into Jim’s stomach. Jim doubled over but used his momentum, plowing into his opponent and wrapping his arms around the guy’s waist as they crashed into the chainlink fence. With a ringing clatter, Jim’s baton fell to the ground. He pushed away and delivered a sweeping kick that caught the guy in the side of the face, snapping his head to the side with a satisfying crunch.

The rush was incredible. Jim stepped back, seeking his rhythm as the guy staggered to his feet, ready for more.
Yes
. Keeping his feet moving, Jim bobbed back and forth, and when the guy lunged for him, Jim flew back on his hands and nailed the guy in the chest with his boots before bouncing back onto his feet. The wheezing rush of breath from the guy’s lungs only made Jim hungrier. Before the man was able to stand up straight, Jim bent sharply at the waist and delivered another spinning kick, twisting in the air to land on his hands. His opponent hit the cement, spitting blood.

Jim hopped to his feet, his rhythm solid now, his feet moving, ready.

But the guy didn’t get up.

“Come on,” Jim muttered.

The guy didn’t move.

“Get up!” he shouted.

“Young brother.”

“Up!” Jim roared. It couldn’t be over so quickly. He had so much more rage to share, so much more power and tension to get rid of. It couldn’t end so soon.

“Jim!” Bomani’s voice lashed right through his trance.

Jim pivoted around, breathing hard. Bomani stood next to the other guy, who was unconscious on the ground. “What?”