Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (29 page)

“You are Mars?”

“And you must be Apport. I have to ask, is the look your choice, or is that really how your worshippers see you?”

Apport smiled. The room around Mars swelled and stretched away from him. The door became massive and towering and before him, the totem loomed tall and powerful.

“It is not so much how my 'worshippers', as you call them, see me, but how you do. What could we learn of you that you view a God in such a way?”

“Fair enough.” Mars grinned. Maybe not the right time for those sorts of questions. The room re-shaped and he stood looking down on the Totem, although he did seem somewhat taller and rather less fat than previously.

“My bosses told me you have something we want.” Mars said.

“Indeed I do. Your bosses can be quite persuasive. This thing I give to you is not something given lightly, nor should it be taken with anything less than absolute respect. However, those you work for should also have told you that you will be performing a small job for me this evening, in return for the key to the Spirit Room.”

“I don't know anything about the Spirit Room, but if you've got the key then fire away. Hope we’ve enough time for this. Sun's up in four hours.”

“There will be plenty of time, Mars. You of all people should know that. Your task is to eliminate someone both myself and your employers wish removed from the struggle. He is a man called Edward James and is known to the country as the personal aide to the Prime Minister. He's also known in certain other circles as Jane, and shares with the Prime Minister an affinity for young boys in fishnets. He's also an agent for The Unseen. You will find him in 10 Downing Street. There's a private party there this evening so you are also welcome to take photos should you wish to create some chaos, assuming your masters wouldn’t mind.”

“They're not my masters. And would you rather chaos or The Unseen's version of order?”

Apport blinked. It only registered because it was the first time he had. Mars could live in this world forever and still never get used to the crazy shit he dealt with. He was having a conversation with a God and was about to break into the seat of power in England to kill someone he knew nothing about.

“Seems like a win-win to me. We’d have done this anyway, so why do you want this guy killed?” Mars asked.

“I dislike people who prey on children. He has been going further afield to find his more recent 'dates'. The PM and he enjoyed a boy who had recently emigrated from America, from a Native American family. Unlike the Christian God people here profess to love, the love of my people means more than simple supplication and goes both ways.”

“This guy steps on your turf and you retaliate. Seems reasonable.”

“I am glad. In that case, you should be off. I will be here when it is done.”

Mars left the house and travelled west towards the centre of town. Downing Street lay silent before him, black street lamps casting blacker shadows. He flowed between them, unseen. The shockers in his gloves heated up as he neared the house and spotted the two guards. One of them gestured to his colleague and walked away down the street. Mars moved silently behind the second man and laid on the shocks. He convulsed for a moment then collapsed. He reached the other guard in three leaps and put him down the same way, then headed back to the front of the house, scanning for movement. His suit put out reality mist, causing any digital surveillance to see nothing but blurred shadows, but in the flesh he was visible. His training made him fast, agile and entirely silent, but you could never be too careful.

He still hadn't decided how to enter, when fate gave him a hand. As he reached the door, it opened and another guard stepped out. Mars snapped the rigid side of his hand into the guard’s neck, knocking him out, then caught him as he fell and carried him inside. He swayed slightly as the adrenaline flowed through him. The sides of his vision began to blur as the bloodlust burned through him and he realised he was panting. He squeezed his left glove and the suit shot a small tranquilliser into him. He took deep breaths, coming slowly back to himself.

The house was silent, deserted, which made sense if the Prime Minister was engaged in less-than-proper activities. He activated his helmet and scanned the house. There were four people on the top floor and no one else. Moving swiftly, Mars soon pushed open the door of the room and stepped in. The boy lay unconscious on the bed. The Prime Minister, his wife and a man Mars assumed was Edward James, sat undressed in chairs near a curtained window. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of sex. His helmet took photos as Mars stepped across the room, ignoring the cries of outrage.

“Are you Edward James?” he addressed the man he didn't recognise.

“Yes, but...”

His gun was already in his hand and Mars shot him twice in the head. The PM's wife screamed, her warm glow ending sharply. Mars stood above them, swallowing the saliva that flooded his mouth. Killing people in cold blood was something he would never get used to. He wasn't sure whether it was that or what he’d seen here that made him sick.

“You will live, but only because I allow it. You're twisted fucks and soon everyone will know. You deserve to die but I think prison should be fun for you.”

He gently lifted the boy from the bed and left the room. He headed downstairs and scanned the street. The comatose guards had been discovered and there were six figures approaching the front door. He set the boy down carefully on a sofa in the lounge, then moved with readiness to the front door. The red mist returned, clouding his vision and this time he let it. As the first policeman stepped in the house, all reason left him.

He came too half a mile from Downing Street, running silently through darkened streets with the boy cradled in his arms. As he ran he emailed the photos to as many papers and websites as the suit could find.

The house in Wapping stood dark and quiet. Inside a Native American God and a Planet Warrior of The Assembly spoke in quiet voices.

“It's done, have you got the key?”

“Your masters spoke highly of you. I see now they weren't exaggerating. Although your tendency toward bloodshed seems ill-fitting in someone who would still claim to have a conscience. I have the key. I will take the boy. He may bring some solace to those of mine who have lost their own, and they will care for him.”

Mars carefully handed the unconscious child to Apport, who grew to make carrying the weight easy. In return he handed a slim, narrow box to Mars, who slipped it into the suit.

“Thank you.” Mars said.

“You may not wish to thank me once you have opened the Spirit Room. I remain intrigued as to why your masters have only now become interested in what lies within it…”

He trailed off, waiting. Mars shrugged and shook his head. “I’d like to know as well. Desperate maybe?”

The god watched him for a moment, head on one side and brows creased. “Desperate may indeed be right, if they think it is worth opening to find but one man. Mars, beware the lure of death. You do not seem to me to be a man born to end life and the choice is always yours.”

“I am Mars. I bring war and bloodshed. And they are not my masters.”

He slipped from the house and raced back to the Thames. He relived the kick of the gun in his hand, the throbbing that began low in his abdomen when he saw the blood, and the rush as his chakras whirred with energy. Trying to explain how it felt was futile, but The Assembly had chosen the right person when they named him Mars.

The sleek black motor launch idled in the river. Luna stood at the wheel, scarred face twisted in a wry smile as Mars slipped over the side.

“Did you get the key?” she asked quietly.

“’Hi, Mars, how are you? Gosh, I sure am glad you're alive, I was really worried about you.’”

She looked at him, unimpressed, and he gave her a sheepish grin.

“Yeah I got the key, good to see you too.”

The boat slipped away into the night, leaving the chaos of the city in its wake…

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Thanks to my Mum and Dad. Said it before, I’ll probably say it again. They’re amazing and are a great part of the reason I’m writing today. They rock.