That Nietzsche Thing

  Chapter 24

  I awoke in the stationary store’s basement, snapping suddenly back to attention. What few Genies I still had at my command were sprawled out on the floor around me. The sun was starting to set outside the tiny, barred window that faced onto the street.

  There was hardly any time left.

  I climbed painfully to my feet.

  I found my pack of Kools in my bomber jacket and knocked out a cigarette. I stepped across the blissed-out Genies and climbed the backstairs to the alley. In the evening light, I lit my smoke. All I had was minutes and no idea of what I was looking for, or where to find it.

  I smoked my cigarette slowly. It was, at the very least, something to do.

  Out on the city streets, I flagged down the first Stryker I saw. It was cutting across an avenue, heading up the hill, but it obliged me by making a U-turn and training its weapons on me. I put my hands into the air and waved my badge at the six wheeled armored car. When I bellowed that I wanted to see Special Agent Constantine, a hatched popped open, and a young Corporal popped out.

  He gave me a ride back to the Feds’ mobile HQ.

  I could feel the pull of Cain’s will tugging on my mind, but while I focused on Vivian and breakfast in her apartment, I could fight against it. But not for long. Cain’s fingers dug deep into my mind. Into my soul. But Vivian’s kiss fortified me.

  I would need Vivian beside me if I was going to see my task through.

  Constantine’s Cobra Commander Missile Command Center sat in shambles. Sometime in the assault, Genies had made it through the perimeter. The Feds had made some attempt to clean up the mess in the daylight hours, but burned out cars and broken equipment still littered the street in front of the City Hall. Constantine’s occupying forced had worked to raise their banner of Competence, Community, Compassion over the door to the Town Hall, but the Genies had torn it partially down. Now, just the tattered remains of three gargantuan C’s flapped in the breeze over the grand doorway. I looked up at them and contemplated the hubris, smoking my Kools.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Constantine called from the door to his mobile HQ. He’d traded his dark suit for body armor and fatigues, his centimeter assault rifle slung on his back. He trotted down the trailer’s short ladder and across the street of spent brass and rubble. He eyed me warily. “I thought you were dead.”

  “No,” I shook my head and threw away the butt of my spent cigarette. “They took me. Made me take them to Elton. He’s alive. Awake.”

  Constantine nodded. “I know.”

  “Then you know…” I turned to squint at the setting sun. “…that they’ll attack when the sun sets.”

  “Yes, we’re ready.”

  “No, you need to pack up, Special Agent. You can’t win this battle.”

  “The Genie threat has been contained,” he said, angrily.

  “Genies yes but they were just the appetizer. The main course is this evening.”

  “Reinforcements are arriving from McCord-Lewis. Armor. Air support.”

  “It won’t be enough. Not against Q.”

  Constantine paused. “Then it really is him? Elton?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some of the reports...” Constantine joined me, watching the setting sun. “It just doesn’t seem real.”

  “You need to fall back, regroup.”

  “No,” Constantine said with an air of inevitability. “We fight here, or we’ll always be retreating. The farther he travels, the more Genies will flock to his cause. The longer he’s alive, the more followers he’ll create. Right now there’s just him and...those two from the van?”

  “Yes.”

  “Their ranks will never be this small again. No, Detective, we fight here, tonight. Or the end of the world is upon us.”

  “You can’t fight the devil, Special Agent,” I said.

  “We can and will,” Constantine countered. He turned and started back toward his mobile HQ.