The Darwin Elevator

Chapter Seventeen

Darwin, Australia

27.JAN.2283

From his vantage point, Darwin looked like scattered glowing embers, as if God himself had stood at a fire pit and kicked the smoldering coals in pure frustration.

Russell Blackfield liked to imagine himself in the role of God.

He spent most nights here, relaxing on a tattered old recliner on the roof of his headquarters in Nightcliff, a patio umbrella to keep the rain off his head. He brought three things: a lantern, the shipping manifests for the next day, and whatever bottle of alcohol he could get his hands on.

From midnight to dawn, he memorized the shipments that would come through Nightcliff the next day. It was his secret. Among the administrators and inspectors, his knowledge of all things coming and going had acquired legendary status. In truth he was never more than a day ahead, and the memorization process took him hours.

He allotted himself two swigs from his bottle per climber memorized, until the task was done. Then the floodgates could open. He would drink, and watch the city wake up. A million souls, or so the estimates went. His own sleep would come with the sun.

But tonight his mind drifted. Events beyond his control clawed at his attention, like hungry kittens. Word of a subhuman running loose in orbit had spread like wildfire across the city. It dwarfed the news that a few had appeared inside the city as well—that, at least, could be explained.

Power outages continued to plague the climbers, more occurrences happening by the day, and no one had a good explanation. Not even the council. Or perhaps they just weren’t sharing. Scared shitless, more likely.

Russell took a swig of vodka and drew his arm across his mouth. Change didn’t scare him. Change meant opportunity for those willing to grasp it.

He heard footsteps behind him and sat up slowly. His staff knew to leave him in peace up here. Footsteps meant something important.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” came a voice.

Russell turned to see a uniformed guard. Too dark to distinguish whom, not that he cared much. “What is it?”

The man stopped at a respectful distance. “The missing worker from yesterday’s climber.”

“What of it?”

“There was a scavenger ship that went up just after—”

Russell felt his temper rising. “The Melville, yes?”

“It just returned, sir.”

Russell set his bottle down. “To the old airport?”

“No sir,” the man stammered. “We ordered it here. It’s in the yard. The crew has been quarantined.”

Russell held back his surprise. Quarantined, no less! Competence like this deserved a toast, so Russell pressed the bottle to his lips and tilted it back. “And our missing woman?”

“One of them matches her description. We’ve put her in a separate room.”

“You …” Russell started, then paused. “You’ve done well. I’m shocked.” He handed the half-full bottle to the man. “Get yourself rotten. I’ll take it from here.”



Quarantine situations were handled in the basement of the old asylum, conveniently situated within Nightcliff’s walls. Russell strode inside and was greeted by the nurse on duty.

“Status,” he said.

The heavyset woman fell in step next to him. “Got three of them together in room D. The fourth I was told to set aside, so she’s in room H. Real looker, she is. You’ll like her. In shock, I think.”

“Shock? From being captured?”

The woman shook her flabby head. “Nah, she was like that when they pulled her from the ship. Seems they got into a bit of a scrap out there.”

Russell picked up the pace. “Out where?”

“Hawaii, they said.”

That matched the flight plan put in when the Melville’s captain purchased lift rights.

“Is she exhibiting any symptoms?” he asked.

“She had a hazmat on. The rest say they’re immune.”

“They are, I know them. Room H first,” Russell said.

The obese woman had to jog just to keep up with him. Waddling on her stubby legs, she led him through a series of empty hallways and abandoned waiting rooms.

The quarantine rooms consisted of two sides, one for the patient and one for the observer, separated by a wall-sized one-way mirror. Russell entered the observation area ahead of the nurse and looked through the glass at the woman on the other side.

Tile covered the walls, floor, and ceiling in the holding cell. Once gleaming white, the grout had now blackened, and mildew stains bloomed everywhere. The detainee sat on a metal bench, the only furniture in the room. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked gently back and forth. Her eyes were closed.

“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Russell asked.

“Told you so,” the nurse said. The hag licked her lips.

“You get a name?”

“No,” she said. “She keeps mumbling about someone named Jake, that they left him behind. Then she said she wanted to speak to Neil Platz. Can you believe that?”

Russell smiled. He could believe it, in fact. “She looks a bit dirty,” he observed. “We should clean her up. What do you think?”

“Very prudent, sir.”

Russell found a simple chair in the corner of the observation room and pulled it close to the glass. “Right, then. Get someone in there and give her a good scrubbing.”

The ugly woman broke into an evil grin. “Right away,” she said.

“Tell them,” Russell said, “to be thorough.” He settled into the chair, leaned back, and crossed his hands behind his head.

On the whole, the resulting show disappointed. The gorgeous woman had an exceptional body, no question. But she never struggled.

He sighed. His cock barely twitched the entire time.

“In shock. What an understatement,” he said to himself.

They left her sitting naked on the narrow bench, still dripping from the buckets of cold, soapy water thrown on her. She made no effort to cover herself after the medics left the room. Instead she stared straight ahead, straight at Russell, as if she could see him through the mirror.

Maybe when she gathered her wits, she’d put up a bit of sport. Then Russell could swoop in, play the helping-hand card. Whisk her to his private quarters, away from such savage behavior.

But not yet. Bored, Russell left the observation room. The head nurse waited for him in the hall. “What should I do with her?”

Russell paused. “Let her stew in there. I’ll be back.”

“What about her clothing?” the nurse asked.

“Burn it,” Russell said. “And I suppose you should examine her closely for any signs of infection. Can’t have a goddamn sub get loose in here.”

A disgusting smile grew across the old woman’s face. “Thank you. Very good.”

“Same goes for the others we brought in,” he said.

“Yes, certainly,” said the nurse. “I’ll start with her, I think.”

Russell paused. “Hurt her in any way, and I’ll cut your f*cking hands off.”

She recoiled, almost tripping on her own feet. He doubted he would have accomplished the same reaction had he physically slapped the shrew.



The Melville rested on the same landing pad from which it had departed. When Russell arrived, a team of cargo inspectors at his back, the ranking guard on duty greeted him.

“Evening, Mr. Blackfield, sir,” the boy said.

Russell read the name off his uniform. “Officer Decklan. What have we got?”

“Craft is Dutch Air Force, built in 2204. Registered as the Melville, owner Sky—”

“Skyler Luiken,” Russell said for him. “I know all this. The scow’s been through here many times before. What’s inside?”

Decklan stammered. “One full bag, and one metal case, locked.”

“That’s it?”

The guard swallowed, and nodded.

All the way to Hawaii for so little? “And in the bag?”

“No idea, sir. Orders were not to touch anything.”

Russell nodded. “Well done.” He motioned to the three inspectors he’d brought along and pointed them toward the open cargo ramp. To Decklan he said, “No one in or out, without my permission.”

“Yes, sir!”

Russell followed his inspection team up the ramp.

The ship’s cargo hold, packed full on the last inspection, stood nearly empty now. Laid bare, the bird looked her eighty years. The fact that she still flew regular missions spoke volumes of the love her captain had for her. That, or the skill of whoever repaired the thing. Russell made a mental note to find out who the engineer was and try to woo him away.

“Sir, have a look,” one of the inspectors said.

Russell knelt over the metal case. Well made, from brushed aluminum, Russell guessed. The locks looked military grade. “Not the type of thing a wag from Darwin would carry about,” he said.

The inspector, with a gesture of permission from Russell, picked it up and turned it over, examining all sides. “It’s got the Platz logo, here,” he said, pointing.

Russell smiled. He couldn’t wait to tell Alex about this.

“Want me to open it?” the man said.

“Not yet,” Russell replied. “Give it to me for now.”

One of the other inspectors had opened the large black duffel bag. He stretched the opening for Russell to see. A random mess of cables and other spare computer parts filled it.

Russell looked around at the rest of the cabin. He recalled his meeting aboard Gateway. “Exercise some subtlety,” he said, echoing Alex’s words. It had a nice ring to it. “Take a handful each, no more.”

“Sir.”

Time to consult with his counterpart above, Russell decided. “I’ll be back. Conduct a thorough search, lads. I want a list.”

The three men nodded in unison.

He took his time returning to his office, climbing the twenty flights of stairs to the top floor with no great hurry. The stairs always gave him time to think, and got his heart beating nice and fast.

Inside, he first went to his desk and removed an old camera. Setting the briefcase on his desk, Russell photographed it.

Next he powered up his antique terminal, transferred the picture to it, and dialed Alex Warthen.

It took some shouting before Gateway’s graveyard shift agreed to wake their boss.

“Three in the bloody morning, this better be good,” Alex said.

Russell sent the photo to Alex as he spoke. “I have the most exquisite woman down here. Snuck away to Hawaii with a scavenger crew. She’s demanding to speak with Platz.”

“Who is she?” Alex asked.

“Not sure yet. I was hoping you could help with that,” Russell replied. “Are you near your computer?”

“I can be.”

Russell struggled to keep his patience in check. “I’ve sent you a picture of a briefcase the woman was carrying when we apprehended her.”

“What’s she look like?”

Russell closed his eyes, remembering the examination. “Medium height. Fit. Black hair. Of Indian descent, I’d guess. Very pretty. Small mole on her left ass cheek.”

“Pardon me?”

Russell laughed. “She’d been outside Darwin. A full examination was required.”

A brief pause from the other end. Russell could hear Alex activating his computer.

“Well,” Alex said, “my guess is the woman is Tania Sharma, a scientist from Anchor Station.”

“Long way from home,” Russell said.

“The briefcase … looks like a standard secure model.”

“There’s a Platz logo on the bottom.”

Alex took a moment to reply. “Tania and the old man are acquainted.”

“Why would she be down here? Cavorting with smugglers outside the Aura—”

“That,” Alex said, “is a damn good question. Maybe something to do with these power failures, and the subhuman outbreaks. If they’re researching it on the sly, they must know something.”

Russell ran his hand over the sleek object. “Maybe I can sell it back to the old prick. The girl, too.”

Alex let out a long breath into the receiver.

How bloody annoying, Russell thought.

“I have a better idea,” Alex said. “I’m going to send you down a small tracking device. I’ll—”

“What good does that do me?” Russell asked.

“Hear me out,” Alex said. “Platz is up to something. If we figure out what, we’ll have the upper hand.”

“We have the upper hand now. The case, and the woman.”

“The woman is nothing,” Alex said. “What’s in the case, what she risked a trip to Hawaii for, that we must determine.”

It made sense, Russell had to admit. “So we attach this device. Then what?”

“Let her go. I’ve got agents on every station. Sleepers. We’ll see where she takes it and find out the details without tipping our hand.”

Russell drummed his fingers on the case. He didn’t like the idea of putting his playing cards in Alex’s hand, but fostering a sense of teamwork might have advantages later. And sleeper agents? Alex had alluded to such a plant inside Nightcliff when they met before, and now he admitted to more. Russell wondered just how wide the net had been cast.

“Look,” Alex said, “if Platz thinks we’re on to him, the trail stops.”

“Fine,” Russell said. “Once the case is tagged, I’ll let her go.”

“Unmolested.”

Russell laughed at that. “Unharmed. I have a reputation to keep.”



Tania lost all track of time. She sat on the cold bench, shivering and naked, unable to focus her mind in any meaningful way.

Some time ago, hours it seemed, a nurse had come in. The old woman was very sweet, sickeningly so, and her hands were cold as ice. The lengthy, probing examination she performed would have been humiliating, repulsive, had Tania been able to bring herself to care.

In her mind she kept seeing the look on Samantha’s face when she had emerged from that cursed building. The way Skyler’s knees had buckled. They had lost one of their own, for a cause they knew nothing about.

Then she recalled the way Skyler had shouted and struggled in vain when they separated Tania from the others upon entering the infirmary. He’d punched a guard before they tackled him. Even after the loss she’d caused him, he still fought for her.

When the door finally opened again, Tania hardly noticed. Two men entered, one carrying a folded gray jumpsuit. She did not move. Instead she kept her eyes locked on her own reflection in the mirror. She pretended to be that woman, the one watching with numb disinterest. They lifted her to her feet and dressed her, guiding her legs into the stiff, scratchy cloth, using their hands more than necessary as they pulled the garment above her waist and chest.

A voice in her head screamed at her to fight them, to struggle, but she couldn’t. There was no point.

She’d come to Earth, set her feet in the soil for the first time in a decade. She had seen trees and wildflowers, growing in unplanned natural beauty.

And she’d seen a strangely human face torn in two by a bullet.

She had seen death.

Growing up, she’d been taught the dangers of living in orbit. She had felt pride in knowing how brave they all were for existing so close to the void.

Ridiculous.

She knew real danger, now, and had been truly frightened for the first time in her life. The indignities she now suffered were nothing compared to what Jake must have gone through in the bowels of that building.

All to serve my theory, which I can’t even tell them about.

The men finished dressing her. “Let’s go, sweetheart. You’re due at the climber port,” one of them said. His voice sounded far away. “Back to Utopia, har har.”

They led her through the stained halls of the miserable hospital and across the main yard of Nightcliff.

Out in the open, she sucked in the salty air and looked up at the sky. The soaring thread of the Elevator. The way home. The only way.

She heard a distant voice: her own, but far away, telling her to find Skyler. To tell him what his friend had died for, that she would make it mean something.

The voice faded.

If she had a chance to ask to speak with him, she missed it. Her captors loaded her into a passenger carrier and began the preparations to send it to space.

“The case you kept asking for,” one of them said to her. He pushed the metallic briefcase into her hands.

Tania stared blankly at it.

“Crazy Sheila,” he added, under his breath.

Perhaps that’s true, she thought. Perhaps I’ve gone insane. She pondered the idea while they attached the compartment to a climber.

She sat alone in the austere cylinder as it lurched onto the thread.



When Russell Blackfield entered the cell, goon squad on his heels, Skyler balled his fists. A fight was suicide, he knew. They were outnumbered and outgunned.

They were naked, too. That didn’t help.

Skyler had been in tough situations with his crew plenty of times, but he couldn’t remember being more uncomfortable. Eight hours they’d spent, the three of them, stuck in the small room without clothing.

“Quarantine,” their jailers had said. “Clothes had to be burned, so sorry.”

Screw it, odds be damned, Skyler thought. He was prepared for the consequences, except for one thing: He wanted to know where Tania was.

“Skyler Luiken, we meet again,” Russell said.

Skyler bit his tongue and tried to hold the man’s gaze. Russell’s eyes, however, had gravitated to Samantha’s bare chest.

“I would think,” Russell said casually, “after eight hours in here, you’d have thought of something to say.” His attention shifted slowly back to Skyler as he spoke.

Through clenched teeth, Skyler said, “Where’s my other crew member?”

“She’s part of your crew? You honestly expect me to fall for that?”

Skyler held his tongue.

“Or did you mean poor Jake, left behind in Hawaii—”

Samantha’s punch flew so fast it caught everyone off guard. She connected squarely with Russell’s jaw, knocking him clean off his feet.

He fell hard against the wall and grunted when his body hit the floor.

One of the guards jabbed Samantha in the stomach with the stock of his rifle. The wind left her lungs and she collapsed to one knee.

Skyler and Angus both surged forward.

“Enough!” Russell struggled to his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “That was my fault. Sore topic. Loud and clear.”

Samantha fought to control her breaths.

Russell shook his head, dazed. “Christ, woman. A hell of a hook you’ve got. If you need a new job, my door is open.”

She spat in his face.

The man did not flinch. Wiping the spittle off, he said, “I’d like to know you better before we exchange bodily fluids.”

Samantha drew herself up to her full, impressive height. The defiance in her eyes blazed, wild and raw.

“Seems I’d need a stool, too,” Russell said, looking up at her. Some of the guards laughed. “Perhaps another time.” He snapped his fingers at two nurses near the back of the group, and they came forward with fresh clothing.

Russell seemed to be waiting for them to dress, but Skyler made no effort to reach for the garments. Sam and Angus followed his example.

“Suit yourselves,” Russell said. “Ah, no pun intended. You’re free to go, cleared from pad three.”

Skyler squinted at him. “What about—”

“The woman will remain here. House arrest, pending questioning.”

“I want to see her.”

“Denied.”

Skyler opened his mouth to argue.

“I suggest,” Russell said, “you stop there. Assuming you ever want to fly in my airspace again, or hitch a ride upstairs.”

Skyler could feel the cold stare from Samantha without turning to her. He swallowed his words.

“Give them ten minutes to get dressed and leave, or throw them out,” Russell said to his guards as he turned and left the room. In the doorway, he stopped and leveled a lewd gaze on Samantha. “You have an open invitation for a rematch, any time,” he said. “Clothing is optional, of course.”

He left the room before Samantha could respond.



Nine and a half minutes later, the Melville lifted off.

The short flight to the old airport, two kilometers away, felt longer than the trip back from Hawaii.

Samantha had not spoken a word to him since the guards had escorted them from that dismal room. She stormed out the cargo door almost before the Melville settled on the tarmac, stomping toward the makeshift kitchen and bar down at Woon’s hangar.

A stiff drink didn’t sound like such a bad idea, but Skyler decided to unload the ship first. It would give Samantha time to settle down, if nothing else.

Truth be told, he needed time himself.

“Take the night off, Angus,” he said to his pilot. “I’ll do the postflight.” He gave the craft a gentle pat.

Angus shrugged and made his own way toward Woon’s tavern, head down and hands in his pockets.

It took hours for Skyler to run through the postmission checklist. Far longer than normal. He checked each engine even as they burped excess heat and spooled down. He checked the flaps and hovering thrusters, and visually inspected each ceramic tile on the underbelly for signs of cracks or wear.

He did a thorough job. The work stood between him and a collapse into self-pity.

Satisfied with the health of the ship, he turned his attention to the cargo bay. Tania’s briefcase proved missing, of course. He had expected as much when they were taken into quarantine. Russell Blackfield would probably demand a healthy price for it, if he had any sense.

Surprisingly, the duffel bag full of other spoils remained on board. Lighter than he remembered, but there might still be enough inside to cover their spooling costs and drop rights.

Before leaving the ship, he noticed something else: a blank space, where the photograph he’d found in Japan had been. The image of a young Neil Platz, standing in front of the telescope. He wondered if it now graced Russell Blackfield’s office wall.

Platz paid for the mission to the telescope, a place he helped build. Skyler couldn’t wrap his mind around that. If a reason existed, it eluded him. None of my business, he thought, then dismissed the idea. The less he knew, the better. Part of him hoped that Platz would pull the contract with Prumble after this debacle. Life could return to a semblance of normal, minus one friend and sniper.

“Evening, Skyler,” someone said.

Skyler turned to see a fellow scavenger captain ambling past. “Kantro, my friend.”

“Heard about Jake,” the man said. “He’ll be missed.”

Skyler nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it. “I hope your day went better. Good scavenging out there?”

Kantro shrugged. “Aborted before we even stepped out. A whole mess of subs swarmed us. Newsubs, my crew is calling them. Never seen ’em so … organized.”

“Same thing happened to us,” Skyler muttered. The thought sent goose bumps along his arms. “Newsubs, eh?”

The other captain waved it off. “Maybe the bastards finally unionized,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “Seeya ’round, mate.”

Skyler wandered inside, wrestling with the idea that the subhumans might be changing. That the behavior they’d witnessed in Hawaii might be widespread, the new norm. The idea chilled him to the core.

He wound up in his room, exhausted, lying on his bunk. When he closed his eyes the mission kept replaying in his mind. Memories of Jake. Tania, in her cell in Nightcliff. His imagination ran wild. Opening his eyes proved the only recourse.

Sleep would have to wait.

He pulled the blanket from his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, picked up the first bottle he could find, and made his way to the roof.

The meager rooftop garden smelled of citrus and soil and rain. Skyler wandered through it and took stock of the plants sprouting there. They’d have plenty of tomatoes, papaya, and bananas from the look of it. Rambutan, too, which he shunned for its strange texture. The others could eat it. He dug out a small weed from beneath the lone starfruit tree and tossed it into the compost bin before continuing to his destination: a small patch of roof at the back of the hangar.

He spread the blanket out and sat. The noise of activity along the main runway barely reached this spot. He lay down, one arm behind his head, and watched the climbers inch their way toward the planets and stars that filled the clear sky above. A crescent moon shimmered in the heat near the horizon.

He drank for Jake, first.

The quiet one, devoted to his role as sniper. Everything he did seemed to be with the goal of improving his ability. Target practice, exercise, meditation. Once, on the return leg of a mission, he’d parachuted from the Melville over Darwin’s eastern slum, the Maze, for no reason other than to see if he could find his way out. “If I’m not back by midnight, drinks are on me,” he’d said. He made it with an hour to spare, let Skadz pour him a drink, and never once bragged about the accomplishment.

Next, Skyler drank for Tania.

He tried, hard, to imagine her being treated fairly by Blackfield. He tried harder not to imagine her alone, in her own decon room, subjected to the bastard’s questions. Or worse.

The thought made him shiver, despite the balmy night. He drew another swallow from the bottle and let the warmth of the alcohol fill him from within.

For a time he toyed with the idea of going back, attempting to rescue her. But to what end? He’d never fly in Nightcliff’s airspace again, and he couldn’t exactly get Tania approved for a lift home, either. He couldn’t imagine her living in the squalor of Darwin, cut off from her gleaming space station, forever.

At some point he drifted off. When he awoke, Samantha was sitting next to him. She held his bottle, dangling it from two fingers.

“Angus,” she said with a slur, “passed out in Woon’s kitchen.” She erupted into a booming laugh, full of snorts and wheezing breaths. “Facedown! Middle of the sodding floor!”

Skyler propped up on his elbows and shook the fog from his head. “What time is it?”

“F*ck knows,” Sam said. She tilted the bottle back and took a full gulp.

“Should we go get him?”

Samantha shook her head. “Woon threw a coat over him. Probably more comfortable than his cot.”

They sat for a while without speaking. Skyler turned his attention to the night sky again. Far above, he could just make out the winking beacon of a climber. Looking lower, he scanned the checkerboard of lights, marking the few pockets in Darwin where electricity still flowed.

Lower still, he tracked along the fence line of the old airport. Shacks and tents had been erected right to the edge, a stark contrast to the weed-infested expanse within.

In the middle of the field of weeds, Skyler spotted an enormous rat, devouring some stolen morsel. He made the shape of a gun with his hand and pretended to fire at the rodent.

Samantha watched with grim fascination. “Jake coulda made that shot,” she said.

“One time,” Skyler said, “back during the Purge, Jake and I were sighting down on this crap little village near Weddell. A whole bunch of subs had overrun the place. But they were all spread out, not like that clan in Hilo. Just the two of us were out there, long recon, you see?”

He reached for the bottle and Sam handed it to him. She stretched her arms across her knees and laid her head down, looking sideways at Skyler.

“We were about a klick away, gone to ground on a hillside. Doesn’t matter. Jake, he’s studying the hell out of the place through his scope. I’m just trying not to piss my pants.”

Sam chuckled. “Scared shitless, eh?”

Skyler waved her off. “No, my bladder really was about to rupture. We’d been hiding out there for, hell, six hours. Then, all of a sudden, Jake tells me to prep the LAW rocket. He stretches his fingers like he’s about to take a shot.”

Watching him with droopy eyes, Samantha nodded.

“We’re a klick out, remember. No backup. You weren’t in the Purge, but you can guess how we immunes were used. Sent far and wide to scout things out, report their numbers and pack locations.

“Anyway, I’m about to piss myself. But I get the rocket tube up on my shoulder anyway.” Skyler gulped again from the bottle, nearly empty now. “Without warning he fires. Boom! Sounds like lightning. Or thunder, whatever the hell. I’m looking at each sub in the village, waiting for one to drop. But none do.”

“F*ck … he missed?”

“No. No, no. This is Jake we’re talking about. Suddenly all the subs turn toward the center of the town. And then I hear it.”

“What? Hear what?!” Sam asked.

“Church bells.”

“The f*ck?”

Skyler smiled at the memory. “Jake hit a bell in the church tower, size of a teakettle, from a klick out. The sound drew ’em like a swarm of cockroaches.” He shivered, visibly. “I can still hear their screams. Not like yesterday. These were desperate, angry. The confused early herd in dire need of thinning. Anyway, the damn things poured into the old church at the center of town, through the doors and windows. And then I understood.”

“Tell me!”

Skyler grinned wide. “I could see them, climbing the church tower, through a couple of small windows along its height. Tripping and falling over each other to find a fresh kill up at the bells.”

“Oh, shit,” Sam said, reaching the conclusion before he told it.

Skyler nodded. “I put a rocket into the base of the tower. The blast was terrific, but, Sam, when that tower collapsed …”

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Had to be at least fifty of them in there. The way he told the story, it was my heroics. But that’s bullshit. He shot a bell from a kilometer away and sent those things to peace. One bullet.”

“Efficient,” Sam said.

“Maybe three crawled away, all broken and twisted,” Skyler added. “Jake didn’t even waste bullets on them. ‘No need,’ he said.”

“The man was smooth, I’ll give him that.”

With a grunt, Skyler nodded. “Best part? We’d finally found something a church was useful for.”

Samantha laughed from the depths of her belly. Guilt, driven by sorrow, eventually restrained her mirth.

Skyler lifted the bottle to the sky and drank half the remnants. He passed the remainder to Sam.

She poured it on the roof and hurled the empty bottle at the rat in the darkness.