When the Dirge Bells Ring

My story begins like every story before it. It has a hero and a villain, a place and a time, a problem, and a lesson. It’s a story about love and hate, about trial and error, about conflict and resolution. But most importantly of all, it’s a story about life.

And about the end of life.

000---000---000---000

Jasper, eyes closed, cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth, chin raised up toward the sky as if in silent prayer, let his body slump against what used to be a convenience store. The fiery red paint that had once displayed the prices of various foodstuffs was now flaked off and smeared with grime. The door to the building was gone, and its goods were either taken or destroyed long ago, the lights were burnt out, and every surface was covered with a layer of grime built up from years of neglect. Jasper sighed, pulling the cigarette from his lips and tapping out the ashes onto the cracked pavement beneath him, then putting the smoke stick back into his mouth.

He supposed he should probably get up and begin heading towards the docks, it was nearly time, but the soft glow of the full moon held him there in the run-down city street. Had he still kept old dreams and wishes, he’d have averted his eyes from the moon and stared instead at the soft pulsing entity before him, the city of Abadon, the Inner city, heaven on earth.

But he was too old for such things. At twenty-nine he’d seen enough of the Outside to know that wishing for the shining city was as foolish as wishing the dry plains to yield fruit. Abadon was off limits to Outsiders. Residents of hell didn’t deserve heaven. That was the Insider’s belief.

A breeze carrying the warm breath of the Plains blew through the street, carrying with it bits of trash and the stink of the river. Jasper ran a callused hand through his short blonde hair and turned to face the wind. He couldn’t wait any longer, the ship would be arriving soon; he needed this job if he was to survive another month.

He dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and began walking towards the river. He didn’t bother to stamp out the still-burning smoke stick. If it were to spark a fire and burn down the Outside, he could care less. In fact, it would be fitting; they always said that hell was made of fire and brimstone.

Strapping his gloves on as he walked, Jasper mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen. Heads would have to be cracked, necks snapped, hearts stopped. Killing was not a pleasurable thing, but it was unavoidable out here. No one could survive for long without killing another human being; it was just how it was. Either you worked in the Houses, or killed for your dinner, there was no middle ground. The Houses were slavers, the gangs killers, what made a man was their right to choose between the two evils.

The end of the street opened up into a large steep embankment filled with sickly yellow grass. At the bottom was the Northern River, its sides flooded with muck and trash. There was a small docking house on the near side of the river; empty for now, but soon it would be filled with the crew and family of a merchant’s ship, which was only a few minutes up-river. Jasper settled himself down on a rusted-out fire escape in the back of a nearby building and waited.

After nearly fifteen minutes of silent waiting, the boat came into view, chugging its way up the river slowly. Jasper followed its progress with predatory green eyes, his teeth nibbling at his lower lip in anticipation. It was nearly to the dock-house now, and the time was too late for it to gain access to the city. It would have to wait outside the walls, unprotected by Abadon’s police force. That was when they would strike.

Time slowed down, the boat came to a stop when it reached the boathouse and tied up. Jasper could see its crew milling about, getting the craft ready to be left out all night. There would be little guard, the boat was small, the crew only five men. This could be done without much killing…hopefully.

A few more minutes of milling about, and the crew disappeared into the ship and the dock-house. The trap was set. This night would be the crew’s last as Insiders.

The signal came from Jasper’s right, nothing more than a glint of metal catching the moon’s rays. Biting at his bottom lip in nervousness, Jasper stood up from the fire escape and began striding down the embankment, the sick crackle of the dead grass echoing the pound of his heart. He never did like jobs like this, never did like killing and stealing. If he had a choice, he’d be somewhere, anywhere else.

A dark figure, slightly taller than Jasper himself joined him in his descent. The man was handsome, in his mid-twenties, and had greasy hair that fell to his shoulders. If one would wipe away the grime from his cheeks and brush the dirt from his hair, he could be called handsome. But an angry scar marred those features, slicing down from his left eye to his chin, and up along the jawbone to his ear. It was an old scar that had worn its way into the skin like a scratch into leather, as if someone had tried to separate the flesh from his cheek. The most disturbing feature though, was his eyes: cold, ice blue eyes that seemed as likely to stab you through the heart as the electric blade he carried.

Jasper nodded to show recognition of the other male, and stopped his progress toward the boat. They were half-way down the slope now, and any guard worth his nuts would be able to see them easily from the deck. The other male shifted nervously.

“What are we waiting for?” the brunet growled. “Let’s get down there before this whole operation blows up in our faces!” He gestured in the general direction of the river and looked back at Jasper, those cold eyes glinting. “The faster we get in, the faster we get out.”

“We won’t get caught…” Jasper replied. His eyes scanned the boat, then flicked back up the hill. “Where’s Alex?…”

“How the hell should I know?” the taller man replied, spitting out a wad of some substance, probably illegal, onto the ground. “He’s your project, shouldn’t you keep better track of him?”

Jasper bit back a sharp retort and ran a hand through his short hair instead. “I asked you a question Leon….where is he? We won’t start this without him. When you gave me the signal, it meant that everyone was ready. We can’t take this ship with only two people!”

“Wanna bet?” Leon replied. “We did fine before that kid ever came by.”

“That was when Zack was still in command. I told you, we work as a unit now. Where the hell is he?”

As if in response to Jasper’s question, a soft whistle came from back near the line of buildings. A redhead, somewhere in his late teens stood at the top of the embankment. He was hunched over, as if in pain, and was gesturing wildly at the two men below him.

“What the hell is it now?” Leon growled, wrinkling up his nose in disgust. “If we’re going to pull this job off, we have to do it now.”

Jasper paused a moment, as if considering who to go to, then jogged back up the hill until he was close enough to hear what Alex was jumping around about.

“What are you doing?” Jasper hissed. “Leon’s going to have my hide if this doesn’t go off well.”

Alex shook his head and motioned Jasper closer. “We should wait…” he murmured. “This isn’t going to work; bad things are going to happen.” The boy’s whole body was shaking, though weather from fear or the chilly night was anyone’s guess. “We can go another day. When there’s another ship.”

“There are no other ships!” Jasper growled. “It’s the middle of the winter, all the farms have brought their food in, and the trade routes are shifting to the west. This might be our last chance before the bad weather sets in. We don’t have a choice.” Jerking his head back toward where Leon waited, Jasper continued. “Get down there!”

“But…”

“I set get!” Grasping Alex by the arm, he pulled the younger male down toward the incline. Reluctantly the redhead allowed himself to be pushed.

“I have a really bad feeling about this…” he complained, grasping at his old t-shirt to try to calm himself down. “Something bad is going to happen…”

“Shut up and move…” Jasper walked ahead of the struggling boy until he joined up with Leon again. The taller man looked away in disgust and continued his way down the hill, not willing to talk about the precious moments they had wasted for the bumbling teen. Jasper knew he was itching to talk on the subject; they had had many arguments of it before.

But as the trio reached the bottom of the embankment and they began to move more cautiously, all thoughts of doubt and contempt were pushed aside in exchange for awareness. Politics could be argued out later, now was a time for action.

A sickly pale light came from within the boathouse itself and from within the cabin of the boat. Small boxes were strewn on the top of the deck, some of them with cargo, and some with various necessities for the ship. Jasper wasn’t sure what they were, nor did he care to know. Ships weren’t his business, thievery was.

The boat itself seemed to be empty, no guards, and no last-minute sailors. There was just the gentle rock of the water and the thin light of the cabin. If they were quiet, they might be able to get out without a confrontation.

“Don’t kill anyone if you don’t have to…” Jasper whispered. “We want to avoid bloodshed.”

“Speak for yourself…” Leon muttered in return before silently hopping onto the deck. Jasper shook his head, but followed anyways; Alex wasn’t far behind.

The three intruders paused a moment on the deck to make certain that no one was going to come running, then began advancing out, searching for the door to the cargo hold. It wasn’t hard to find, there was a door toward the middle of the ship that lead to a staircase, which, in turn, lead to the hold. Leon stayed at the door to make sure no one was watching while the other two began exploring.

The hold had crates upon crates of various things. Axel tried to examine a few of them, but he couldn’t read, so it didn’t do him much good. Instead, he took to tearing the boxes open and riffling through its contents. Jasper did the same thing, only he moved slower, and examined each treasure to be brought up.

The crates themselves contained vastly different things. One held bolts of cloth, another various foodstuffs such as potatoes and canned foods. Still another crate had electronics, most of which Jasper hadn’t a clue how to use. Still, they would all fetch a pretty price on the market, and that was all that really mattered.

Jasper took one of the bolts of cloth and unrolled it, then began piling the other good onto the cloth. Once he had a good amount of things, he rolled the cloth up and tied the ends together into a makeshift sack. Across from him, Alex was doing the same thing. It would be the easiest way to carry out the stolen goods.

They were so busy that they didn’t notice as a shadow fell over the entrance to the hold. In fact, they didn’t notice anything at all until an older man, slightly balding, pulled out a gun and cocked the hammer, aiming right for Jasper’s head.

“What are you doing on my ship?”