Kingdom Ashes

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Kingdom Ashes Kingdom of Ashes by adam riemenschneider Special thanks go out to Adam’s family and friends, and especially to Daprice Howard, for her patience and support. Also, to early draft readers Jason and Joy Goray, Eric Steen, and the many other helping hands along the way. Final thanks go to Cole Sarar, for her dedication and sharp editing eyes. Kingdom of Ashes is published by Other Court Games. Inquires regarding retail, distribution, licensing, bulk discounts, and other considerations should be sent to: Other Court Games 900 Monterey Drive Shoreview, MN 55126 Kingdom of Ashes Digest Edition Edited by Cole Sarar Cover Illustration and Layout by Adam Riemenschneider SKU 00100 ISBN 978-0-9817688-4-7 Copyright © 2009 Adam Riemenschneider All Rights Reserved Mention of or similarity to existing companies or other organizations is not a challenge to existing trademarks. All incidents and persons portrayed are meant as a fictional representation of the world, and any similarity, without satirical intent, to persons living or dead is coincidental. For more Other Court Games products, please visit our website, www.othercourt.com Kingdom of Ashes 1 Running 1 2 Awake Now 8 3 The Black Hole 23 4 Revel 36 5 The Way Down 51 6 Into the Night 67 7 Good Old Days 88 8 Heat Index 100 9 North 119 10 Trial 140 11 Dark Riders 153 12 Light 170 13 Shock and Awe 183 14 Kingdom of Ashes 200 15 Revolution 217 16 Capitol 229 17 The City Falls 244 1 Running Cory’s mind wasn’t working right, but that was fine with him. He didn’t have to think very hard to know that his legs were killing him, that his lungs felt filled with broken glass. He didn’t need to think to know that the two of them were in trouble. Their feet fell against the dirty sidewalks and dark, gritty streets, an echo of hail, or angry drums. The girl’s name was Mary. And he was covered in blood. Hand in hand they ran. Lightless, oblivious houses swept past them. Cory’s wet shirt grew cold in the March night air. His fingers were sticky. The stickiness pulled his mind out of panic and broke through the wall of fog that desperately tried to obscure the obscene memories that were coming into focus. He killed those men. Tore them apart. With his bare hands. Dizziness and nausea resurged. He stumbled. Mary’s young, pale face swam into focus. Wide, scared eyes over a sharp, determined chin. They had met only minutes ago. “Keep running,” she said. They did. Through scraps of yards between sleeping houses, down crazy-angle alleys, across deserted parking lots. They passed a humming, illuminated laundromat. Kept going. Sirens called out from a long distance behind them, then faded. Help, Cory thought. They needed help. Terry. The name vaulted into Cory’s mind. His roommate. Terry would know what to do. Cory’s free hand got into the pocket of his silver racing jacket, now stained with tacky, murderous evidence. Terry answered on the second ring. “Terry... I’m... in trouble,” Cory managed, his chest burning, his legs numb with pain. “What? What kind of trouble?” Terry’s smooth, straight voice twisted with alarm. “Are you all right?” “I’m...” Cory broke off, suddenly in doubt. How could he be all right? The security men had been armed. Stunners, a gun. Hadn’t there been shots? “I’m okay. I think... I mean, I... killed some people.” He had said it. As if under a spell, Cory couldn’t run anymore. Mary broke away from his grasp, then turned around. “Where are you?” “I... I don’t know.” Cory gasped. “I don’t know what happened.” His chest rocked. He began to sob. “Terry. Please. I need you to help me.” Terry’s voice came back at him, cool and measured. “I will help you, Cory. But I need to know where you are.” Cory looked for street signs, found them. He told Terry the intersection. “All right,” Terry continued. “There’s a railroad bridge at Butler Street, about half a mile north of you. Do you think you can make it there?” “Yeah. Okay. We’ll be there.” “We?” “Yeah,” Cory looked at Mary. “A girl. The one they were trying to take.” There was a pause. Cory couldn’t tell if Terry was there or not, couldn’t hear Terry’s breathing. “I’ll be there to pick you up in five minutes.” Running 1 l “Are you sure your friend is going to come?” Mary asked. How she wasn’t winded, Cory couldn’t know. Mary was a small girl, a teenager of indeterminate age. She could be fourteen, she could be eighteen. “He’ll come,” Cory managed. He simply wanted to curl up beneath the tracks and die. Everything hurt. The world swam and his stomach clenched. The surety of his crime solidified in Cory’s mind. He was a murderer. Or something worse. Some kind of monster. He remembered the way he had screamed as his hands dug into their faces. As if he had enjoyed it. His hands had felt different, alien somehow. Heavy. Cory looked at his hands. They shook. “Thank you,” Mary said at last. “I couldn’t just let them take you. Why were they after you?” A white compact car drove up. “Is that your friend?” Mary asked. Cory suddenly remembered that Terry didn’t own a car. Adrenaline surged and overtook Cory’s weariness. But it was Terry. Cory grabbed Mary’s hand again, and they approached from the shadows beneath the bridge. “Get in the car,” Terry said. “Leave your cell phones here.” Terry’s face left no room for argument. Cory and Mary threw their phones to the concrete and got in, Mary in back, Cory in front. Terry turned around in the driver’s seat and looked Mary up and down. Something about it felt invasive to Cory. It was unlike Terry. So improper, so akin to lecherousness. Mary looked back at Terry with a blank face. Something passed between the two of them, but Cory couldn’t tell what. “These men, they were in a van,” Cory heard himself say. “They jumped her, tried to kidnap her, you know?” “Who?” Terry replied. “Pro-Gate,” Mary answered him. Cory saw a flicker of fear pass overTerry’s face. “You really know how to pick them, don’t you Cory?” “We have to get out of here,” Cory said. “There were sirens. The cops will be back there by now.” But Terry didn’t move. He and Mary were locked in, and the air in the car grew heavy. “Who are you with?” Terry finally asked the girl. “Blackguard,” Mary answered. “You’re too young,” Terry challenged. “It’s not me,” Mary stammered, backpedaling now. “It’s my brother, Max. He’s a Sergeant Major with them.” She looked away. “I’m not in anything.” “What?” Cory said. His voice sounded far away from him. But Mary’s answer held meaning for Terry. He turned back around and put the car into gear. It was only then that Cory noticed that there were no keys in the ignition. 2 Kingdom of Ashes l Cory didn’t pay attention to where Terry took them. His mind slid out from under him, and he tumbled. Those men, he thought. I killed them. I’m a murderer. And I did it with my own two hands. I’m covered in them... Panic welled up in his guts. He shook in the passenger seat as streetlights swept past, uncaring. As if from down a tunnel, Cory heard Terry’s voice calling him back. “Cory. Are you all right? Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Terry glanced back at Mary, seeming to distrust the mirror. “He didn’t get hit, did he?” Then back to Cory. “Cory. You are going to be fine.” “Fine! How am I gonna be fine!” Cory exploded. “Jesus fucking Christ! There’s some- thing wrong with me! Fuck, Terry, I ripped those guys apart! I didn’t even have hands! They were something else.” He held his fingers in front of his face. They were tacky and smeared in what looked like rusty tar. “You’ve never done that before, have you?” Mary asked from behind him. Cory was too flabbergasted to make words come. Somewhere along the line, Cory had fallen into another world where what he had done could pass for normal. The heaviness of this realization crushed into Cory’s skull. Mary hadn’t been shaken by what he had done. He hadn’t scared her. It was the men with the van, the close call, that had done it. And Terry. He didn’t seem shaken by it, either. Terry. Bookworm-type, straight laced and cool, like piano keys. A little older than Cory. Respectable, worked at the U of M library. And now, apparently, at ease with driving a gore-covered, freshly on-the-lam felon. “No,” Terry answered flatly. The surety of it shook Cory back. “Why?” Cory demanded. “Have you?” He tore around in the seat and glared at Mary. “Ever tear a man limb from limb? Why the hell are you two acting like this is normal?” “I’ve never done that,” Mary said quietly. She looked out the window, uncomfortable. “I do other things.” “Don’t worry about it right now,” Terry assured him. “Cory. We’ll talk about this later.” Resigned, Cory faced forward, and wordlessly watched as the city swept by.
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