Page 67 of Swamp Kings 2

“Nothing’s holding,” Fathom said sternly. “His circuits are completely fried,there’s nothing to transmit into.”

“And his mind’s disconnected,” Fin added, eyes narrowed as he inspected Zodak. “The neural relays won’t hold steady—just enough static to keep him from stabilizing.”

Bishop’s vision sharpened as he added his hand to Zodak’s body, closing his eyes. This time when he saw the problem and solution, he also saw the means to do it.

Seer knelt and took hold of Zodak’s head and their gazes locked for many seconds, revealing a deep affection in his blue eyes for their giant warrior. Bishop lowered to the precise pressure points beneath his jaw, pausing with the weight of what he was about to do. Was able to do. He cradled his neck and tilted it, bringing the vein to the surface then bit down. The skin beneath his fangs sliced open for the passage of catalytic energy. He visualized the complex matrix that would reboot his synaptic connections and didn’t stop till his system was flooded with it.

“It’s working,” the triplets said in unison when a tremor passed through Zodak. Bishop carefully pulled up, watching his eyelids flutter as life sparked and neuralpatterns realigned, resuming their flow. His eyes popped open with a massive breath followed by awareness rushing back into him.

Bishop’s own breath gushed along with a wave of relief that put him on his ass next to him while Seer aimed his face to the sky, thanking God. Zodak sat up, his gaze finding Bishop’s and locking on, the awe in them a mirror of his own at what had just happened.

“We have company,” Fetch announced quietly, slowly standing as Bishop whipped his head around.

A small crowd of women and children stood about ten feet away, huddled together, watching. Remnants of terror covered their dirty bodies while wicked ghosts stared at him from the shadows within their eyes.

“Who are you?” one of the women at the front asked, the words forced and shaking.

“We’re friends,” Seer said. “Here to help.”

The men all slowly stood while Bishop realized they hadn’t considered this part of the rescue mission.

“What are we gonna do with them?” Seer barely asked, arriving at the same thought he’d just had.

“Good question.”

“Might need to ask your wife,” he muttered.

“Do you have homes? Family we can take you to?” Bishop asked.

They all stared at him, some of the women looking down, the sight filling him with sickness at what they may have been through. He definitely needed to talk to Beth. Maybe she saw what the hell they were supposed to do next.

“We were taken from the city,” the same woman said at the front. “We’d formed a group after the collapse. Stranded mothers with their children who had nobody to help them. Who lost everything.”

Bishop lowered his head, his chest tight at hearing that. Mon fucking Dieu. He looked left at the two guards lying on the ground a short distance away. “Seer and Zodak,” Bishop said, locking gazes withSeer. “Lead them out of here. We’re taking them with us.”

Seer nodded, his stare locked tight to his. “You alright?”

He took a second to weigh and consider that. He would be. Just as soon as he dealt with these sick bastards. “We’ll be right behind you after we finish up here.”

Seer nodded, regarding the group of women and children before him. “Good,” he said, hunger in his tone. “Consider the cost dearly.” He brought his stern gaze back to him. “Then make it count.”

****

Bishop stared down at the two men, groaning on the ground. “Consider the cost dearly and make it count,” he muttered, shoving one with his boot, eyeing Fetch. “What do you think that meant?”

Fetch angled his head at the filth and crossed his arms. “Think it means… figure out the crime and make sure the payment fits perfectly.”

Bishop considered that in a literal sense. “Theyterrorized and abused innocent women and children. Only God knows what else.”

“Justice unfolds symmetrically,” Fathom contemplated. “Every transgression seeds its inherent reparation.”

Bishop regarded Fin now. “What do you think?”

He brought his calm blue gaze to him. “Considering the source, I believe the wisdom was two-fold. The first part was a warning. That your retribution will bear the same countermeasure for your own sins. The second was telling you to use your gift to bring a great yield with your punishment.”

“A great yield,” Bishop muttered teetering at the edge of disgust. He was ready to simplify with a bullet. Splattered brains on the ground felt like a great yield to him. Three bullets would yield even more. He considered the countermeasure for his own sins. What would he want if he was two hundred pounds of moral shit? A bullet was the end of the line, nothing more. A far cry from the hell these women and children endured.

A creative spark fired in his brain as he considered more fruitful ideas. “The greatest yield would be a moral filth rehab.”

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