The Twelve Commandments Read online

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  OTHER BOOKS

  DEDICATION

  INTRODUCTION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  If you enjoyed this story, please go and leave a

  THE 12 COMMANDMENTS

  Jeff Elkins

  Copyright © 2017 Jeff Elkins

  All rights reserved.

  Click here to subscribe to Jeff Elkins’ monthly newsletter and get a free copy of Mencken and the Monsters.

  If you enjoyed Mencken and the Monsters, make sure you get these other titles in the Defense of Reality Series:

  The 12 Commandments

  Mencken and the Lost Boys

  Becoming Legend

  Saving Deborah (Coming Spring of 2018)

  The Kingdom of Melp (Coming Fall of 2018)

  Other books by Jeff Elkins that you will also enjoy:

  Revolution Church

  Mark and All the Magical Things

  7 Nights in a Bar

  For my best friend and the love of my life, Wendy.

  To my writing partner, Cory, even if no one reads, at least we are having a good time.

  To Everette Robertson and Jenn Sturniolo thank you for your incredible notes.

  To my cover designer, Elizabeth Mackey, amazing work as always.

  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Baltimore

  May 2014

  CHAPTER ONE

  James could feel his blood pulsing through his head. With each beat of his heart, the pressure built behind his eyes. He wondered how long he’d been hanging upside down. Twenty minutes? Maybe thirty?

  His captor's fist connected with James' side sending a powerful jolt of pain racing up and down his spine, rattling his teeth. With a sputter, James’ mouth filled with blood. He involuntarily spit it out. The lingering pain told him a rib or two had broken.

  “I want you to know,” James’ purple eyed captor said in a soothing voice. “I don’t enjoy this. I would imagine it’s much like when you crush a bug beneath your foot. You do it because you have to, not because it brings pleasure.”

  Blood mixed with saliva and stomach acid ran freely from the corner of James' mouth, up his cheek, across his temple, past his eyebrow, and into his hairline where it pooled and dripped to the floor.

  “If you aren’t keeping up human, in this analogy I’m the foot and you are the bug,” the captor said as he delivered another powerful blow to James’ ribs. The monster knelt down so he was eye-to-eye with the upside down James. “Now, bug, I was told that you know where everything in this plague-ridden worthless pit of a city is. So I’m going to ask you again.” The monster's sharp white teeth gleamed in the dim light. The beast picked up a roach off the floor and placed it gently on James’ forehead as he said, “And like the weak, small-minded cockroach you are, you are going to answer me truthfully. Now, where is the box?”

  James spat out the blood and fluid that was pooling in the roof of his mouth and then licked his teeth. He could feel the roach scurrying through his hair. “I got a lot of boxes,” James said. “Like I said before, There are all kinds of boxes in B-more. I'm going to need more details.”

  The next blow struck James in the solar plexus, simultaneously knocking the wind from his lungs. James choked on the vomit and blood that filled his nose.

  “Strategically, your hesitance is a fascinating thing,” James’ captor said, taking a step back from where James was suspended. “You don’t plan to use the Tinker’s box. You have no strategic reason to keep it from me, yet you still refuse to cooperate. It is a foolish decision on your part that has no benefit to you. It would be wiser, when faced with a superior aggressor like myself, to seek to negotiate and hope to prove yourself useful so that I might find a reason to let you live.”

  James had never seen anything like his captor. Tall, strong, and pale-skinned, it was enchanting and terrifying at the same time. James made a mental note that, if he survived, he should find where the guy got his purple contacts because they were like nothing James had ever seen before.

  “I don’t know the Tinker,” James said, spitting again. The cockroach was running up his neck toward his collarbone.

  The purple eyed monster stood in front of James. The beast pulled one of the daggers from his belt. “Of course you don’t. Few do. Even I have never met him.”

  James winced as his captor slowly traced James’ abs with the tip of sharp knife. The cuts were enough to hurt but not enough to seriously wound.

  “But the box is special,” the captor said, tracing James chest muscles with his knife. “If you saw it, you would remember. Now, let's talk about how you are failing to fulfill your role in our partnership. I was told that you are the man who gets things.” The monster slid the knife along James’ extended right arm, slowly tracing James' bicep, leaving a small trail of blood in the knife’s path. “I have done my part. I have brought my need to you. I need the Tinker’s box. But you. You are not doing your part.”

  James swallowed. The pounding in his head was intensifying with each breath. His muscles continued to twitch with each new cut. He could feel the cockroach by his ear. He wanted nothing more than to scream and cry, but he held it in and tried to maintain his cool. “Listen, yo,” James managed. “If you want drugs, guns, girls, maybe boys? Then I’m your man. I can even put them in a box if you want. But if you want a specialty item, you are going to have to give me more information and more time.”

  The purple eyed man took a step back and squatted down so he was at James’ eye level. With his right hand, he cupped James’ head. With his left, he held the knife to James’ throat. Softly, he whispered, “You don’t get to tell me what you need. You don’t tell me to bring you more information. I bring you my needs. That is all you should need to motivate you, bug.” He pushed the knife down, pressing it into James’ neck. “Am I clear?” he said. “I can’t hear you,” he screamed in James’ face. “Am I clear?”

  James was afraid to speak, worried the edge of the knife would cut his windpipe if he moved too much. “Okay. Okay. Listen, yo. I’m sorry. I’ll get you the box. Okay. The box. I’ll find it.”

  “Excellent,” the captor said with a smile. “Now, I’ll need it within the next-”

  “Chris is here,” an old and gruff voice interrupted from behind James.

  An old man stepped into James’ line of sight. He had a white beard, his head was shaved, a black patch concealed his right eye, and he reeked of cheap booze.

  “You’ve got two minutes at best,” the old man said. “And don’t count on me to slow him down. I can’t be here when he arrives.”

  The purple eyed man sighed. “Thank you, Carl,” he said as th
e old man left the room and headed up the stairs to the roof.

  The monster returned his gaze to James. “I don’t believe I have introduced myself yet,” the monster said with a polite nod. “My name is Bose, third in command to the Great General Azo, commander of the Riptride, and renowned hero of the battle of the Cliffs of Ives. I’ve been sent by the Great Azo to retrieve the Tinker’s box. It’s very special to him. He needs it. And I like to please him.”

  James spit again. “What does it look like? I’ll tell my boys to keep their eyes out for it.”

  Bose laughed again. “I’m afraid James, that if you don’t have it, you won’t find it. And we are now out of time.”

  Bose put the knife to James’ stomach again, but this time, the blade cut deep. James gasped in shock as the blade entered him and withdrew. His blood ran down his chest, down his neck, and to the floor.

  Bose ran his fingers across James’ chest. “You can still serve a purpose, though,” he said calmly. He walked over to the blank wall in front of James. “You’ll be my messenger. What an honor for you.” With his bloody finger, Bose began writing on the wall. When his finger went dry, he returned to James’ chest for more blood.

  James could feel the life seeping from him. Everything hurt: his legs, his arms, his chest, his head. It all pounded with the beating of his heart. “I’ll find it,” he managed to say through the pain. “I promise. I’ll find it.”

  “No,” said Bose as he finished his message on the wall. “No. I don’t think you will.”

  The old man appeared again in the stairs. “Time to go,” he said with a serious look. Then he disappeared from James' view. There was a crash below them on the first floor. It sounded like the front door was being kicked in.

  Bose leaned down to meet James’ eyes again. He smiled as he slid the knife across James’ throat. Blood and air escaped James with a gurgle. His captor stepped through a strange pink hole that appeared from nowhere. Hanging upside, alone in the room, blood draining from his body, James spent his last seconds trying to read the words on the wall that were written his blood.

  Dear Gracanjo,

  Please bring me the box and no one else will die.

  Sincerely,

  Bose, Commander of the Riptride

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, did he learn anything?” Chris said with doubt. The thin sandy-haired warrior in a polo and jeans relaxed against the black iron railing, but his attentive blue eyes communicated readiness. He had yet to look Jose in eye.

  “He was great,” Moose replied. “Best student I’ve ever had.”

  Jose smiled at his shoes, basking in the praise.

  Chris snorted in reply. “He’s the only student you’ve had.”

  “And?” Moose shot back with a smile. Moose, one of the DC-based Gracanjo, was a short, African-American twenty-something with shoulder length dreadlocks. Over the past six months of training, Jose had come to think of her as a big sister, even though they were close to the same height.

  Chris, Moose, Jose, and the two other warriors stood in a circle at the entrance to the Greenbelt metro station on the north side of Washington DC. Moose and Jose’s bus from Pennsylvania had only arrived a few minutes before. Chris, Squirrel, and Reggie were already there, waiting in silence. Jose imagined that to the average passerby, the group of five looked like an odd homeless convention - five crazy looking vagrants meeting at the metro to swap panhandling techniques and trade secrets about the art of dumpster diving.

  “I’m just happy to have you home,” Squirrel interjected. “It’s lonely out here by myself.” In contrast to his partner, Squirrel towered over the rest of the cohort at six-foot-six. During the bus ride back from Centralia, Jose had wondered what Moose’s partner was like. Moose had said Squirrel was tall, but everyone was tall in comparison to Moose. Jose wasn’t prepared for the man in front of him who looked like he could play power-forward in the Wizards.

  “Oh, are these big bad streets too tough for you to handle all by yourself?” Reggie mocked with child-like indignation. Reggie, half of the Gracanjo pair from Annapolis, wore a plaid shirt that matched his unkempt, red beard. He hid his thinning hair under a cheap black stocking cap.

  “Fuck you, you dumb-ass lumberjack bitch,” Squirrel barked. “Ain’t like no shit ever happens in your piece of shit, wannabe suburb, hipster-ass, bullshit burg. Why the fuck are you even here, bitch? Huh, bitch? Why? Why? You got nothing to say now? Huh? Bitch.”

  “Screw you,” Reggie shot back. “We get as much action as you do.”

  Squirrel jerked his hand back and forth in the air. “We ain’t talkin’ about that kind of action, you little your-mustache-ain’t-no-Ron-Swanson bitch.”

  “Chris told me to come. He invited me,” Reggie whined.

  “Where’s your partner, bitch? You lose another one? Moose or me need to go train a new one for you to guard the dangerous streets of Annapolis, Maryland. Um, excuse me, sir, Mr. Mardock,” Squirrel said in his best professorial voice. “Could you please hold your rampage while I finish my pumpkin spice latte? It’s perfectly frothed and I need time to savor it. Get the fuck out of here you lost-my-axe-in-the-woods bitch, with your little bitch-ass hat. You’re a joke.”

  “That’s enough, Squirrel,” Moose said quietly.

  “Whose approach did you teach him?” Chris asked, unmoved by the antics around him, still looking at Moose.

  Jose stared at his partner trying to take him in. He wished he and Squirrel could trade. Moose was kind. She had a gentle smile. The days of training had been hard, but at night they would cook marshmallows over a campfire, drink cool aid, and makeup stories about pictures they saw in the stars. Moose told great stories. Jose had known Chris for two weeks before leaving to train in the woods. He’d never seen the man smile and Chris never told stories. They’d spent most of the time walking around the city in silence.

  “Little of mine. Little of yours,” Moose said. “You know I’m not down with all your silent ninja shit. You’ll have to teach him that yourself.”

  “Any live combat?” Chris asked.

  “Nah,” Moose said. “I stuck to protocol. I explained the races to him and we worked the number system, but he hasn’t seen any real action. Just practice.”

  “It’s all good, little man,” Squirrel said rubbing Jose’s shaved head. “You already got more experience than Mr. Lumberjack-Annapolis bitch here.”

  “Fuck you, Squirrel,” Reggie said.

  “You can try, you little bitch,” Squirrel laughed.

  “I don’t need this shit,” Reggie said.

  “Did you teach him the commandments?” Chris asked Moose.

  “No way,” Moose said. “That’s your job.”

  Chris nodded.

  “In Annapolis, they be like, ‘The first commandment is,’” Squirrel said, putting back on his professorial voice, “never drink coffee after ten, and never drink tea before noon.”

  “That’s enough,” Moose said to her partner. Squirrel laughed to himself and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Why am I here?” Reggie demanded.

  “I spoke with Hyoi about the increase in activity we’ve all seen,” Chris said.

  The circle fell quiet. Moose, Squirrel, and Reggie held their breaths, waiting for Chris’ next words.

  “He said that Azo is searching for the Tinker’s box and he thinks it’s in our region,” Chris said.

  “A box?” Moose asked.

  “I don’t know anymore. All Hyoi told me was there is something here that Azo wants and his army is on the move so we should plan for an increase in the frequency of raiding parties crossing the Veil until they find it. I had one in my city yesterday. They tortured and killed a dealer. Left him hanging upside down for me to find. Wrote a message on the wall in his blood.”

  “What’d it say?” Moose asked.

  “Give me the box or else,” Chris said with a grin.

  “What if we find this box first?” Reggie asked. “What do we
do with it?”

  “Hyoi said to have your Relay reach out. He’ll come and get it,” Chris said.

  “This is bullshit,” Moose complained. “We don’t work for that purple-eyed asshole. How do we know he isn’t the one sending these pieces-of-shit across? Maybe he’s just blaming Azo. I ain’t never seen this damn Azo dude, but I’ve seen way too much of Hyoi and Bashi’s asses.”

  Chris sighed in agreement.

  “If you see that snotty-ass-fuck Bashi again,” Squirrel added. “You tell him he isn’t welcome in DC. I’ll cut his fucking ass. I hate that dude.”

  Chris nodded again.

  “Crystal and I will let you know if we find anything,” Reggie said to Chris.

  Squirrel laughed.

  “Crystal alright?” Moose asked.

  “Yeah,” Reggie replied looking at the sidewalk. “We had a rough one last night. She’s sleeping it off.”

  Squirrel laughed again.

  “Tell her I said hello,” Moose offered.

  “If no one else has any business,” Chris said. “I suggest we all get back to work. If you find this box, send word. The sooner it’s back on their side, the better.”

  “Agreed,” Moose said.

  Chris reached out and shook Moose’s hand. “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.”

  “Absolutely,” Moose said.

  Chris shook Reggie’s hand next. “Thank you for coming, and don’t be a hero. You find something, send word.”

  “Oh, I’m going to call you,” Reggie said. “We need to talk.”

  Chris took Squirrel’s hand last, “I appreciate you giving up your partner to train mine.”

  “Yo,” Squirrel replied, using both his hands to receive Chris’ hand in a sign of respect. “Anything for the Blur. I still owe you for that time in LeDroit Park. Don’t think I forgot about you saving our asses.”

  Moose turned to face Jose. Placing her hands on his shoulders she said, “You’re going to be fine.”

  Jose smiled and nodded. He was embarrassed by the knot in his throat. He was afraid he might cry. He didn’t want to cry, not here. Not in front of his new partner.