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  Shadow Dragon

  May 2018 edition

  PROLOGUE

  The sun entered a period of intense activity after long being dormant. The impact on the earth’s climate was devastating; the Sahara Desert turned into grassland. The west coast of the Americas dried up. Europe was drenched with rain, and many countries faced civil unrest and mass starvation.

  The Bio Wars began the ultimate battle - the war on race. It was a war to end all wars, a war to release valuable resources. Advancements in medical technology made it child’s play to create a deadly virus. Anyone and everyone had the power to deploy a doomsday virus, and they did.

  The first virus attacked Africa, its new found wealth a threat to the old-world order. In retaliation, the Congo dropped a nuke into the Gun-Waha oil field in Saudi Arabia, putting twenty-five percent of the world’s oil production permanently offline. A Nigerian warlord released his virus on Europe. The old hatred between the Chinese and Japanese flared, and they unleashed their plagues on each other.

  Of all the nations, Japan was hit the hardest. The Imperial House of Japan, the oldest hereditary monarchy in the world, was left with one survivor--a two-year-old girl. In the middle of a cold winter, she disappeared, leaving the palace’s ancient treasures to be pillaged.

  Five years later, there were eight hundred million humans left on earth. The offspring of the survivors were born changelings. One-third of the children were classified as Type One: Trolls, Elves, and Dwarves. Another third were less mutated and were classified as Type Two. The Type Three mutants looked human, but their genetic profile was not accepted as pure. Sub-Type A (1A, 2A, 3A) is a subtype of all mutants that do not get cancer and have proteins in their blood that prevent infections. Thirty Years after the Bio Wars, less than five percent of the population were certified as “Pureblood.”

  During the Bio Wars, the rains resumed to the west coast of the Americas. For the first few years, the returning rains broke all records and the dams along the west coast of the US. The fresh silt washed down from the mountains, renewing the delta. With the rising sea levels, the Sacramento Valley turned into an estuary that meandered to the San Francisco Bay. After the war, California was resettled by returning veterans who were granted land along the borders of the Sacramento Estuary.

  With only thirty million people on the globe, the Federal Government’s power was reduced with corporations filling the void.

  Now, thirty years after the Bio Wars, the mutants have become an emerging majority, forming unions and becoming a powerful political influence. The old-world order of the Purebloods has been slowly losing authority over time.

  Ceres

  CHAPTER ONE

  I lope along at a seven-minute mile through dark alleys that smell like piss and stale beer. I can keep up this pace for an hour. But the woman next to me won’t last three more blocks.

  She is already slowing down. Kim has the legs of a two-hundred-meter runner, but she’s thin from malnutrition, so that’s not helping.

  I put my hand on her shoulder, “Slow down and walk fast.”

  She slows down and keeps beside me.

  Close by, a mutant calls: “Kim-BER-Lee, come out and Playay.”

  Kim takes the next right, and I follow. Kim navigates obstacles like she’s been here before. I wonder if this is where she lives.

  “Who are those guys?”

  “Inner-City gang. “The mutant with long arms and fingers can crush your throat so watch him closely. The other-”

  We’re in North Frisco which is Vory territory. Normally it’s a death sentence for a gang member to cross the bay that divides the city into north and south.

  We get quite as someone nearby knocks over a bottle. Footsteps approach and I drop behind a stripped-down hatchback on blocks. By the smell, someone is using the back seat as a bathroom.

  I look over my shoulder. Kim steps up on a plastic milk crate and slips into a nearby building through a broken window. Our eyes meet for a second and then a green glow illuminates the alley.

  I reach into my vest pocket and get my pocket knife. Keeping the blade closed, I hold it in my hand.

  The green light gets bright enough that the hatchback casts a shadow. I wrap it around me like a cloak. The shadows hide me from view.

  Two of the men weave through the trash. The one in the lead is shorter than Kim, eyes illuminating the alley in sharp green. I avoid the light, seeking the shadows, and the men pass by without noticing me.

  Mantis-legs stops at the window Kim crawled through. He extends his knees and peers inside. With one foot on the ground, he lifts the other, placing it inside the window. Grasping the frame with two hands, he pulls himself through.

  The other mutant with insect eyes stands on the crate and peers inside.

  I flip open the blade on my pocket knife. Letting go of the darkness, it falls away from me. I then move up to Insect Eyes, sink the blade into the back of his knee and then pull it out quickly.

  He drops to the ground and howls, his multifaceted orbs illuminating the alley in a soft green glow. “This isn’t your fight.”

  “I’m making it mine. Your ligament is severed, so it looks you’re the one who’s out of it.”

  Mantis-legs sticks his hand out, pointing a pistol at me, and I dive for the car.

  Pop, pop, pop!

  It’s a twenty-five caliber, subsonic ammo, low noise at close range. It won’t penetrate my vest, but plenty of other body parts are exposed. The bullets kick up gravel and dirt in the alley but miss me.

  There’s a muffled thud of metal hitting flesh. Mantis-legs spills out of the window and falls backward, motionless, on the ground.

  Kim emerges from the same window with a two-foot piece of rebar in her hands. She jumps into the alley.

  The mutant with the glowing eyes spots Kim. “Shit shit shit,” he says as if reciting a prayer. He stands on one leg, using the other for balance. He pulls out a hunting knife with a six-inch blade and points it at Kim.

  Kim circles him, the metal rod in constant motion. She makes a fake to his head. His arm goes up in defense, and she nails him in the gut, giggling.

  He drops the knife and goes to his knees, hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.

  Kim walks behind, kicks him, and he falls forward, his weight resting on his elbows. Insect Eyes catches his breath and turns to Kim, eyes casting shadows. “What happened to your slut sister?”

  He’s baiting her, trying to get Kim to kill him quickly. She delivers a blow to his ribs, and he falls to the side, stunned.

  Rolling him onto his back, Kim straddles him, her movements sensual. She rolls her hips forward, pelvis resting on his neck, glowing green from the light of his eyes.

  She leans into him, placing more weight on his windpipe, and he gags, making ghastly noises in his throat.

  Kim gently runs her fingers over the surface of his lidless eye. “What’s wrong, pussy got your tongue?”

  Mantis-legs lets out a soft groan. Kim looks over at him and then back at the Insect Eyes. “Sorry, no time for foreplay.” With both hands, she grasps the metal rod and places a well-aimed blow to his eye. Eye juice squirts and lights up Kim’s face and shirt in fluorescent green. The eye goes dark as the blunt end pushes into his skull.

  She stands up, puts her foot on his forehead, and pulls out the rod. “You should have stayed in your territory…this part of town you got no friends.”

  Mantis-legs rises to his feet, and Kim swings the metal rod against his kneecap.

  A shattering crack sounds, making me recoil. Bone pierces the skin and he drops to the ground. With his one good leg, he kicks out, trying to keep Kim away, but she keeps circling, the rebar moving in figure eight. She strikes and connects with his elbow.

 
Crossing his arms, he goes down and rolls into a ball.

  Kim works the kidneys and ribs, striking with her club, over and over again.

  The mutant coughs and a spray of blood paints the ground; his breath rattles.

  She stops, her rage spent and looks at me, breathless.

  I wipe off the blade and put it away. “We gotta go. “There’s two more out there. We need a place to hide and think.”

  Still panting, she points to the window.

  I haul myself up, turning around to check the alley where the two bodies lay.

  Kim picks up the pistol, slides the safety on, and puts it in her back pocket.

  I hold out my hand and help Kim in through the window. She leads me to the center of the abandoned duplex. The walls have been ripped open, and the plumbing salvaged. Soon we’re in a bathroom, which is stripped, leaving a hole in the floor.

  Kim drops down, and I follow. We come upon a cache of clothes and a gallon of water, and my previous instinct is right. This is Kim’s home, a hole in the floor, sack of clothes and a jug of water. My next-door neighbor’s chickens live better than this.

  Turning on my disposable phone, I send an anonymous text to my mom. 2 fresh dead Park/Humbolt alley. My mom works in an emergency room. She’ll pass this info on to the meat wagon, and they’ll come to clean up the mess.

  Kim sits there, holding her knees, and shaking. “Whatcha doing?”

  “I called a meat wagon. That’ll keep your friends occupied, while we find a way outta here.”

  Kim nods. “Good thinking.”

  I pull a stim patch out of my med kit.

  “What’s that?”

  “Caffeine, plus something to get more oxygen into your blood.”

  Kim’s eyes are feral, darting around the crawlspace.

  I use my fingers to remove the hair that is stuck in the corner of her mouth. “It’s going to be alright. Don’t worry; I’ve been in tighter spots. I’ll take care of you.”

  She looks at me intently. “You’re serious… why are you going out of your way to help me?”

  “Why not?” I shrug. “Otherwise I would be sitting back in my room watching reruns of old black-and-white movies.” I smile. “This is much more fun.”

  Kim manages to smile back, “Yeah, killing bounty hunters is fun.”

  “Tell me about the two mutants. What are their abilities?”

  “The slender guy’s got an iron grip, Kim finally catches her breath. “Don’t let him touch you.”

  The glow of the eye goo on her face fades, and it gets harder to see. I get out a red LED penlight from my vest and turn it on.

  “Damn, that’s bright,” Kim inspects the pistol. She removes the clip: three rounds left.

  “Why are they after you?” I ask.

  “Got a price on my head. I have something a lot of people want.”

  “What is it?”

  She ejects the round from the concealed carry pistol, blowing dirt out of the barrel. “A tablet computer with important information on it.”

  I pick up the bullet, clean it off and hand it back, making sure I don’t leave prints on the casing.

  She loads the clip, inserting it into the Beretta and slides the action into place.

  “Don’t shoot the troll. These bullets will bounce off their hide.”

  She turns penlight off. “They found their friends.”

  “I knew it; you’re a telepath.”

  “There’re moving, coming into the door.”

  Floorboards strain under heavy feet.

  “Where are the boards weakest?” I whisper.

  Kim leads us, crawling toward the center of the house. The floor above smells moldy. Soon, footsteps follow, a flash of light between the floorboards behind us.

  The floor groans under the strain of the troll’s feet. Boards snap, and the troll abruptly falls through into the crawlspace with us, making a loud crash.

  Finding his footing in the dirt crawlspace, he stands back up, his thighs level with the floor. He grabs the moldy plywood, rips out large sections of the floor, and moves towards us. Like an ice-breaker cutting through sea ice, he plows towards us. We move back to the bathroom hole, and a glow-stick drops down in front of us.

  Kim points the pistol at the opening just ahead.

  A mutant pokes his head down.

  Kim fires. Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop… click!

  The mutant slides slowly down, coming to rest on the dirt crawl space. We use the mutant as a step-stool to get back up into the bathroom.

  The troll continues demolishing the house, and we jump out of a gutted bedroom window. Heading west, I look back. The building is lit by the glow of headlights.

  The meat wagon has arrived: two medical technicians and two-man security detail. They’re well-armed and trained to deal with mutants.

  The giant troll roars in defiance.

  A burst rips from a thirty caliber rifle, then silence.

  Kim leads us away, our footfalls deafening. We make our way back to the hotel, using backyards and alleyways for cover. Using my keycard, we enter a side door, head up the stairs to the third floor, and slip into our room.

  Kim takes off her stim patch and wraps it in a plastic bag.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take a deep breath and let it out.

  Kim puts her hands on her waist. “You saved my ass. I owe you, and I hate owing my ass.”

  “It’s a nice ass, little thin, but nice. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to it.”

  I chuckle at my joke while she undresses. Kim walks out onto the balcony, takes my towel hanging from a nylon cord and walks back in. Kim wets the towel and wipes her face.

  “How come you’re not a registered telepath?”

  “The telepath who tested me was weak. I thought about munching her rug, and she got turned on and embarrassed.” She smiles. “She ran out of the room. Poor girl didn’t know what she was missing,” Kim wrings my towel.

  “So…what it is like being a telepath? Do you read minds all the time?”

  Kim wipes her face again, getting the rest of the blood off. “It’s like a room of people talking; you can either tune them out or listen in. When I concentrate on one voice, it gets louder, and I hear their thoughts as a voice whispering in my ear. I mostly tune it out, but I always have my radar up for someone thinking of me. That trick saved my ass at least a dozen times.”

  “Why aren’t you working for the police or corporations? Telepaths make good money.”

  “Telepaths have a short life working those jobs. Read the wrong mind, and you disappear.”

  “Wow. I thought being a Type 3A mutant was tough, being hunted for organs, but you have me beat.” I walk outside on to the patio, strip down to my underwear, and hang my clothes on the line. Kim follows, hanging towel stained with blood on the line.

  A tattoo of two intertwined snakes covers her spine. They end at her shoulder-blades, heads facing inwards. Above each snake are the names: Kimberly and Cindy.

  “Who’s Cindy?”

  “Cindy was my girl,” she’s staring into space. “Last fall she got a flu shot. Next day she was sick…day after that she died.”

  Kim turns and faces me. “I read the doctors’ minds, I knew they were up to something, so I stole the doc’s computer pad.”

  They got me on camera, so now I have a price on my head.” Kim leans in, putting her hands around my neck. “I can help you; I know the area.”

  I pull back. But Kim backs me into the railing.

  “You have two options,” Kim says. “You can bail on the heist, blow all that planning, or make me your partner.”

  I remove her hands and walk to the door. “Let’s discuss this inside.”

  Closing the door behind her, I say, “I don’t need you. You’ll get in the way.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “Your name is Hermes Conrad, and you live at home with your mom and dad.”

  I step backward, stumble onto the bed, and just sit there.


  Kim sits down next to me and speaks softly into my ear, “You and your mom are medics. You and your dad are thieves. You have a little of both in you.”

  The room spins, and I feel nauseated.

  Kim walks to her pack and puts on a pair of clean underwear. “You fuck whores because you’re afraid to let anyone close to you, especially at night.”

  She sits back down. “When we were under the house, you took care of me.”

  She puts her hand on my thigh. “Let me take care of you.” Kim leans in and whispers in my ear, “You always wanted a girlfriend.”

  I walk outside and close the patio door behind me.

  Leaning against the railing, I listen to the neighborhood dogs bark. Patches of light break up the darkness; the smell of burning garbage is on the breeze.

  I stand there, sorting through my emotions. It seems like every job I pull has some weird twist. But Kim’s right, I do want a girlfriend, and she knows how to fight dirty. Why does she have to be so skinny and barely a B cup, though?

  I walk back inside, and Kim slaps my face lightly. “Barely…my ass.”

  “There you go talking about your ass again.” I splash water on my face and let it air dry. No way I’m using a bloody towel. “Okay, you’re in for ten percent of what I make.”

  Kim smiles, and lays down on her stomach, showing off her butt and kicks her legs playfully. “I knew you would see it my way.”

  Sitting down next to her, I trace the tattoo of the snakes on her back. A shiver goes down her spine and goose bumps pepper her tiger-stripes.

  “How come your hands are so cold on a hot night?” she asks.

  I ignore the question. “Nice tat…the inker is a real artist. He uses your stripes to accent the Caduceus.”

  She looks over her shoulder. “What’s a Caduceus?”

  “The two snakes. It’s the staff carried by the god Hermes.”

  Kim gets up, facing me. “You mean Mercury?”

  I lie down, wedging a pillow under my head. “Mercury is the Latin name. Hermes is the Greek, but it’s the same god.”

  Kim steps back and grabs the sink and stares at the basin.

  “Are you all right?”.