Story #131 - Deacon First VI

Deacon First -VI

“Howe!” Pike Rolson’s voice cracked like a whip. “Get your head out of your ass!”

With a start, Barry realized he’d been nodding off; they were on midnight watch of the Order’s HQ, which meant little more than standing at the east entrance and making sure nothing made it through alive.

Every team had to take a turn at guard duty, though Rolson had managed to postpone their required nights thanks to Barry’s status as a new member; training recruits was hard and often deadly, but it did come with a few perks.

“Sorry, Pike,” Barry said, running his hands quickly over the silvered machine gun he shouldered. There was nothing to correct, nothing needing adjustment, but he needed to look attentive, and hoped that fiddling with the gun would at least keep him awake.

He had been surprised his superiors were willing to issue him one of the guns so quickly, especially without proper training in its use. Its parts were easy enough to understand and he was sure he could point and shoot, but his aim would be in question.

“Wondering how it works, rookie?” Rolson asked, and continued before Barry had a chance to stop him. The senior Deacon had already explained the gun’s workings twice, but apparently needed something to help him stay awake as well.

“Silver coated inner barrels,” Pike said, and Barry wished the man would at least vary the order of the information or his speed of his delivery, “which allow soft copper bullets passing through them to pick up enough residue to hurt a Wolf.”

Barry nodded, though his eyes had begun to close again; his own Wolf encounter three nights ago had kept him up for days, and was finally catching up with him.

“Won’t kill ‘em,” Pike went on, “but with these one bullet won’t be all they’ll get. Fully automatic, rookie – just hold down the trigger until they’re dead.” Rolson’s voice came to him as though from a great distance; had the man been walking as he spoke?

“Howe!” There was real anger in the voice, this time. “Wake the hell up, right now!”

The dark courtyard of the east entryway sprang back into focus, and Barry took a deep breath. There was nothing in the darkness to keep his concentration, nothing to help him pass the time. None of the Order would come from this direction; only the odd delivery truck that couldn’t use the south gate would be routed this way, and only in daylight. If something came out of the darkness, it would not be friendly, and he was stuck sweeping his eyes across the flat grey pavement over and over again.

“Pike –“ he began, but the Second cut him off.

“Listen up, First.” The use of his title told Barry that Rolson was really angry; they’d enjoyed an excellent working relationship until now, with Barry managing to not get either of them killed or seriously wounded, but nodding off on duty was something Pike couldn’t tolerate. “You haven’t been a total disappointment, but I’m looking to make Third next year, and that’s not going to happen if you slack off!” Rolson hadn’t moved from his post, but Barry could hear the strain in the taller man’s voice. If he could, he would have closed the distance between them and made Barry physically aware of the anger he was feeling.

“Yes, Second!” Barry called out, and Pike went quiet. Arguing would have been the worst possible course, and there was little he could say to Rolson in his own defense. He had been nearly sleeping on the job – something that could endanger them both.

Ten minutes of silence passed and Barry tried hard to keep himself awake and on-track, but even vivid remembrances of the Wolf’s first appearance in his apartment did little to keep him alert, and he could feel himself sliding again down the grey and soothing slope to sleep.

“Pike,” he said quietly, “has a Wolf ever acted…oddly around you?”

Rolson sniffed. “Nothing normal about a Wolf, Howe. You should know that. And what do you mean by ‘odd’”?

Barry took a deep breath; he had to talk to someone, and Pike was a better choice than anyone else he could think of. Their post provided a measure of security; they weren’t due to be checked on again for another hour.

“Well…” he hesitated. Telling Pike everything would be a bad idea –

There was no movement in the darkness, only a quick inrush of air and then five dark forms were hurtling toward them, bodies coursing low over the ground and fur whipping. They both opened fire, but too late – only one of the five was caught in their scattershot, and the other four came on hard.

For him.

He screamed, but no fangs reached his neck, no claws touched his arms. The golden shield sprung into existence and the four against him howled, then burst into flames. In moments their singed shapes had disappeared back into the quiet black and all was still once again.

Rolson jammed the alarm hard and then strode up to him. “So – odd like that?”

Barry nodded. “Sort of. Pike, one showed up at my apartment. Talked to me. Told me they have a creator, then attacked me and that shield showed up. What the hell, Pike? What the hell?”

Rolson put a steady hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “I’ve got no idea, Rookie. Now, let me check you for bites.” Pulling hard, the Second forced him forward and made a show of looking over his neck.

“Lifter’s bookstore. Next day off. Noon.” Pike’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, and Barry had to strain to hear it over the wail of the alert klaxon. “Clear!” His trainer announced in a loud voice, then stepped back and put his arms up. A platoon of men burst through the east doors, weapons drawn, and Barry raised his hands as well.

“Come with us,” the lead guard said, then gestured to two of his own to take up position at the door, “the Bishop-Captain is waiting in the briefing room.”

- D