by Mark Ayre
For a ridiculous second, Mercury imagined Amira’s little ploy might work. The beast would be distracted. Amira would kick free. Cleo would find her footing and, as she did, Amira would plunge a poisoned blade into the monstrous heart.
Amira no longer had a blade. That part, Mercury conveniently forgot.
Had she a blade, it wouldn’t have mattered. As Amira slapped Cleo’s face, Cleo headbutted Amira’s hands back into her nose and mouth. She laughed as Amira turned to Mercury, withdrew her hands and mouthed one word.
Run.
Cleo punched Amira in the stomach then lifted her high. Neither woman spoke. From nowhere, a wind began to whip, encircling them. Amira’s body began to tremble. Mercury knew what was happening.
Trey was dead. Any second, Amira would be gone. It was too late to save her.
Run.
Mercury was out of choices. Amira had known as much and, even in her weakened state, had known Mercury would need a push to do the right thing.
Not the right thing for Amira. Not even the right thing for Mercury.
The right thing for humanity. Mercury stood no chance in this battle. That old saying applied.
Live to fight another day.
Mercury was woefully outmatched against this almighty monster, and the odds were about to get worse. If she tried to fight, she would die. There would probably never be a better chance to defeat Cleo. But probably was better than nothing.
As energy flowed and Cleo dragged her lieutenant into Amira, Mercury turned and, fleeing the failed battle scene, fleeing what might be their last chance to kill the most significant threat the Earth had ever seen, and fleeing her best friend, she ran for her life.
Twenty-Seven
Through the doors and down the stairs. Inevitably, it was quicker going down than coming up. More dangerous, too. A couple of times, Mercury almost tripped, almost barrelled down the stairs faster than she intended to travel.
And that was before she encountered true danger.
The stairs were hard tiles. Her soles slapped them, and the sound echoed around the tight walls. Her heart raced, her breathing was heavy; she struggled to keep it under control. The sounds of her working lungs, feet and heart filled her ears. Because of this, she didn't realise she wasn't alone on the stairs until it was too late.
About halfway down the building, Mercury burst off the stairs into the short hall between floors eight and nine. She was going so fast she almost smashed her shoulder into the wall as she took the turn. Then Heidi appeared through the door from the stairs up from floor eight.
Heidi froze. Mercury couldn't mimic the move. She shoved her heel into the carpet to stop herself and almost pitched over. She was within half a metre of Heidi when she came to a halt, and ready to collapse. Heidi bridged the space and backhanded Mercury across the cheek.
"Why aren't you dead? Don't tell me my master let you go?"
The backhand had been well struck. As if Mercury hadn’t been in enough pain, now her cheek throbbed as her skin began to redden. The force of the possessed’s hand had driven her into the wall and to the ground. She rose, in too much pain, physical and mental, to be afraid.
“Cleo.”
“You what,” said Heidi.
“She’s chosen the name Cleo. And yes, she killed Trey. She put one of her monster friends into Amira. Then she let me go. My suffering, she said, was more fun to her than was my demise. She let me run so I might wallow in my pain until she was ready to see me off. Now get out of my way.”
Even in her pain, Mercury was tense. She tried not to cock an ear like a dog, to listen to the sounds from above. Any second, Cleo and the thing in Amira might rush down the stairs. If they reached this landing before Mercury escaped Heidi, it was game over.
That was if Heidi even believed the story Mercury was spinning. The cogs were turning; conflicting ideas battling. Heidi struggled to believe Cleo would have let Mercury go. But could not believe that Mercury would have escaped under her own steam.
At last, the beast in Olivia’s body gave a little nod.
“It must be tearing you apart to have lost Amira and Trey?”
Were those footsteps Mercury heard, somewhere above? Was her time almost up? Whatever the case, she would remain still, silent. She would stand tall and hold the monster’s eye but would not respond to her questions.
“I didn’t care for Amira,” Heidi continued. “I’m glad she’s dead.”
Mercury’s fists clenched. On a good day, she might get a couple of hits on Heidi before Heidi killed her. Today was not a good day. In this much pain, any fight would be over in seconds.
“As for Trey,” Heidi went on when Mercury resisted speaking. “I’d grown rather fond of him. He had to die, but I’ll miss him none the less.”
She waited again. Mercury could feel the oncoming tears gathering in her eyes. One broke free, rolled down her cheek. Good. Heidi saw it and smiled. Mercury’s emotional torment. That was what she wanted.
“Can I go now?” Mercury asked, not fighting the tears. Letting them fall.
“You saw my master—Cleo, you said?—draw one of our kind into this world? Tonight, when you cannot find sleep, if at any point you can pull your tormented mind from the topic of Amira and Trey, how you failed them, consider how fast Cleo can pull one of my kind into one of your kind. Imagine how rapidly we will proliferate. Consider how long it might take, the fall of humanity. You can count it in days rather than weeks.”
Smiling more broadly than ever, Heidi stepped aside and outstretched an arm, inviting Mercury to pass. For a moment, Mercury froze. Was she really doing the right thing by leaving? How long did she have to mount an effective resistance, and what could she do in that time?
But she had no choice. If she wanted to live, to have any chance, she had to go now.
Nodding, she stepped past Heidi and up the hall, through the double doors at the end to the top of another flight of stairs.
She would continue her sprint to the bottom. Time was precious. If Cleo and not-Amira turned up, it was game over.
Maybe it was anyway. Maybe running was pointless if she could not first present an obstacle other than herself to the monsters.
She remembered what Amira had given her before they had climbed the building towards failure and doom. The shotgun was gone; as were the knives. There was one more weapon Amira had taken from the infected she and Trey had killed. Reaching into her pocket, knowing Heidi wasn’t far away and that Cleo could be there any minute, Mercury found the cold, hard spherical object and pulled it free.
A door opened—the one which concealed the stairs to the ninth floor.
Mercury paused. Was Heidi departing or was someone arriving?
Voices. Mercury heard Heidi speak, and someone respond. Cleo had arrived. The monster in Amira’s body would be with her. The tears came again.
Knowing she had only seconds, if that, Mercury looked to her hands, to the grenade. It looked the same as those she had seen in films and in Betty’s hand, back in her bungalow. Never before had she held one. Luckily, they were simple to operate.
Clasping the grenade to compress the side lever, Mercury looped a finger through the metal ring which rested on top of the device. She wasn’t afraid to die. Still, the thought of pulling the pin and the grenade exploding in her hands made her pause.
Footsteps approached the door behind which Mercury stood. There was no time to be nervous. It was now or never.
In one swift motion, she pulled the pin free.
Nothing seemed to happen. She knew, within the grenade, the process had started. Within seconds, it would be ready to explode. All she had to do was release the lever.
She waited one second, two, three.
Heidi and Cleo were five paces away. Before they arrived, Mercury tugged open the door and dropped the grenade a few inches into the room.
The moment she let go, she shoved closed the door and twirled on her heel. With a leap, she met the top step and was barrelling down as though a sea of
unstoppable molten lava rolled in pursuit of her descending feet.
Six steps down, the grenade went bang. The explosion smashed the doors from their hinges; the shockwave chased Mercury onto the stairs and threw her from her feet, down the remaining half flight to the floor below.
Dizzy, disoriented, she once more made use of the resilience and strength Heidi had left her, rising within seconds of hitting the carpet.
She was not half as resilient as the monsters above. A direct hit from a grenade’s blast hadn’t killed Betty. Nor would it kill Heidi or Amira’s possessor. It might not even harm Cleo. Tossing aside the wreckage, they would be making for the door. Soon, they would again be in pursuit.
Swaying as she stood, stumbling as she moved, Mercury forced herself on. The next few steps she took with caution, clinging to the bannister. She soon sped up, moving faster and faster as she made her way towards the street, expecting with every step for Cleo to arrive, to drag her back, to kill her.
Without seeing another soul, unless you counted Betty’s body, she reached the street. Rushing through the tunnel, she paused only momentarily. Around the side of the building would lie Trey. There was a temptation to go to him. No one else would.
No. She would mourn him as he deserved to be mourned once she was away. She could not take the time to visit his body. It would get her killed. And she had a world to fail to save.
Leaving the tunnel, she rushed from the building’s grounds, through the fencing that separated dirt from pavement. To her right, she could see her car. The streets weren’t empty. So as not to draw attention, Mercury walked to her vehicle, unlocked the door, went for the handle.
Paused.
Three cars from hers, another caught her eye. Reaching into her pocket, she found her chain and checked there were still two car keys there. Throwing open her door, she collected the precious few possessions she kept, before rushing to Amira’s car.
Inside, she found Amira’s things. No more weapons but something else. Something perhaps more valuable.
Amira’s little black book.
There was a reason they had gone to get it. They never had the chance to use it to help their cause.
Right now, it could be Mercury’s only hope.
Slipping the book into her coat, she started the car and thought of her friend. Amira. She missed her boyfriend and mother every day. Romantic and familial love could be powerful. Mercury had never experienced anything so strong as the platonic love she felt for her best friend.
Amira was gone, but Mercury would continue. She would make her friend proud by doing the right thing.
If nothing else, if she could not save the world, at the least, she would save her friend from the monster who resided within.
Black book in pocket, fresh purpose in her soul, Mercury started the car and fled the scene of her greatest defeat.
Yet.
Twenty-Eight
The ambulance came. Someone wrapped a towel around the still undressed Sam and listened as she babbled. When the paramedics reached the floor Sam had fled, Benny was still alive. The floor around him was drenched in blood. Would her brother live? It was touch and go.
Sam had warned the paramedics about Titus. None the less, they recoiled when they saw the mess of a man in the corner. Sam had told them little. They cast her glances. Somehow, they resisted further questions. Their job was to save lives. The police would handle the rest.
Through the quiet streets, the ambulance raced. Upon arriving in hospital, Benny was rushed into surgery. A nurse brought Sam some spare scrubs in which she could dress and a kind, young doctor led Sam into a small room with a chair, a water dispenser, and little else. He sat her down and offered to make her coffee. She asked about her brother, and he was honest. It was too soon to call whether he would live or die. She said she wanted to be alone until there was news.
“The police will want to speak with you,” said the doctor. His look was difficult to decipher. There was kindness and concern in his eyes, but his mouth was tight. Someone had told him about Titus. He thought there was a chance Sam, despite her youth and frail frame, was a psychopath. He didn’t want to hang around but had a job to do.
“You can’t leave the hospital until they say.”
Sam felt a stab of anger and glared at the doctor.
“You’ve just told me my brother might die. I don’t care about the police. I don’t care about anything. Until I’ve seen my brother, I’m going nowhere.”
The doctor looked at her. Read the sincerity in her face. He wanted to believe her but couldn’t shake the thought she might be a sociopath, an adept liar, and a killer. There was little he could do.
“I’ll be back as soon as I know anything.”
“Please,” she said.
He departed. Sam knew before long, the police would arrive with their questions and accusations. Not that it would matter to them, but she didn’t want to speak with anyone until she’d seen her brother. She prayed the next time the door opened, it would be the kind doctor, rather than a stone faced police officer.
It was neither.
Ten minutes after the doctor departed, the door opened again, and someone entered. Sam had her eyes closed. She could tell the person was alone and nothing else. Expecting the police to come in at least pairs, she assumed her doctor friend was back. She opened her eyes, heart pounding with fear about what information he might be about to divulge.
“Damn, girl,” said Beauty. “You look like shit. You should have something to drink.”
Without waiting for Sam to respond, Beauty turned to the water cooler. The container looked like a massive upturned plastic bottle. Beneath the container was a slot which held numerous white plastic cups. Above these was a spigot. Beauty took a cup, pushed the tap, and waited for the cup to fill. She put the first cup to one side and filled another.
“I’m not thirsty,” said Sam. Even though she was.
“You are,” said Beauty. “I understand you don’t like me, so you want to be strong and rebellious. Is proper hydration really the hill you want to die on?”
Beauty downed half of the second cup of water. She placed it to one side before collecting the first and bringing it to Sam.
“Come on,” she said. “Don’t be stupid.”
Beauty repulsed Sam. The thought of responding positively to any gesture from the woman who had threatened her with rape made her sick. But Beauty was also right. Sam was thirsty, and if she was going to take a stand, it was not worth doing so over a drink.
Reaching out, she took the cup. Beauty stepped back, smiling.
The building in which Benny had almost died had been grimy and dim. Even in such poor lighting, Beauty had been stunning. It had been easy for Sam to see how this stranger had turned her brother into a compliant fool.
The harsh manufactured lighting of the hospital had a habit of washing people out. Making the healthy look ill and the ill look as though they were sitting at Death’s door, waiting to be admitted. Somehow, the excessive, sharp lighting only made Beauty look even more transcendent. She might have been the Devil wrapped in the body of a Goddess.
“Drink up then,” said Beauty. She returned to her own cup, downed it, and poured herself another. Sam looked at the water in her hands, then back to this repulsive woman.
“If you’re here to hurt me, go ahead and do it.”
Sam had always been timid. Since her parents died, she had become over-reliant on her brother. She knew that. Under his shadow, she had carved something of a life. Speaking up was a skill she had never acquired.
Now Benny, the only person in this world for whom she gave a damn, was dying, and she found she wasn’t afraid anymore. After all, what was there left to lose?
Beauty watched Sam a while. Classic scare tactics. She finished her latest water, scrunched up her plastic cup, and threw it in the waste paper bin. At last, Sam took a sip. It was refreshing. That was annoying.
“I’m not allowed to kill you,” Beauty said at
last. It was clear the situation displeased her.
“You don’t strike me as someone who takes orders,” said Sam.
Beauty smiled. “You want me to hurt you? You got some sadomasochist thing going on?”
“No,” said Sam. “Just curious.”
Beauty nudged the waste paper bin with a toe. Looked around as though searching for a chair, but there wasn’t one. Instead, she leaned against a wall.
“I never listened to my parents,” she said at last. “Never had time for teachers and I couldn’t hold down a job. You’re right, people telling me what to do gets right under my skin. I need to be in control.”
The mere thought of parents, bosses and teachers made Beauty shudder. Sam almost smiled. How pathetic it was. How insecure did one have to be to find taking instruction from another human so repellent that even discussing the idea made her shiver? Sam could have spoken. Held her tongue.
“This is different,” Beauty continued. “We all need a purpose. What we did today was summon a being of incredible power—A God—into a human vessel. I can’t take instruction from another human. But a God? That’s a different story. Even I can toe the line when the rewards are so great.”
“And what are the rewards?” Sam questioned. Did she care? Or did she seek only to distract herself from her brother’s condition? Where was he now? Was his life still hanging in the balance? Was he stable? Or had he already passed away, as had her parents all those years ago?
“Their kind will take over the Earth,” said Beauty. “When they do, I’ll be at the God Liam’s right hand. The remainder of humanity will live in servitude, and I will be their master. I will have more power under the Gods then I ever could without them. You can’t tell me you don’t want a piece of that.”
Sam didn’t know whether to believe the line Beauty was spinning. Whatever had happened to Liam, he wasn’t a God. Had he been possessed by a creature of diabolical evil and power from some other realm? It sounded far fetched. Given what Sam had so far seen, she couldn’t rule it out.
