by John Ringo
Red eyes appeared in the shadows. They hissed and growled as they circled. I was surrounded.
“I’ve been watching the Hoodoo Squad for a while. I knew you would be the only one impulsive enough to follow a vampire by himself,” said the one I had been chasing. He lowered his hoodie. The fang appeared to be a black male in his early twenties, and he was leaning against a brick wall under the one dim light in the entire alley, looking smug. “I took my time so you could catch up.”
“You think you can kill me?” I drew Mo No Ken. Some of the vampires ventured into the light. They all looked young, and made me wonder if we’d missed some of the kids who’d been killed at the university. “Come on then!”
“This is the one who murdered Drusilla!” That vampire, a white kid who was actually wearing a Loyola T-shirt, rushed me. “Let’s turn him!”
Ichor droplets were still in the air when his head went flying into the festive night. There was a brief cheer in the distance that was entirely unrelated. Great timing though.
The expression on his face in the moment before Mo No Ken struck was perfect surprise. I expected him to say “Wait. What just happened?”
“I am Iron Hand, bitch!” I shouted, spitting on his deliquescing head. “My blood would burn your undead soul!”
“Enough, children,” the leader said. All of the other vampires immediately froze. The severed head had landed between us. He began walking toward me, pausing long enough to dismissively kick the skull into a pile of trash with his Air Jordans. “If I wanted you dead, hunter, you would be. This is my city.”
“New Orleans doesn’t belong to vampires.”
“Spare me. I’ve been here so long that while I was still alive we considered Andrew Jackson a tourist. You can call me Jack.”
I struck. It was a blindingly fast downward slash that should have cut right through Jack’s neck.
The vampire caught Mo No Ken. Mourning stopped abruptly, with an impact that I felt in my wrists like I had just tried to chop through a boulder. He had simply clapped his hands together, only he’d moved so fast I hadn’t seen it. A bit of steam rose from between his palms from the consecrated oil.
Oh shit.
If Jack wasn’t a master vampire, he was probably close enough that it wouldn’t matter. From what I had read on the topic the best way to fight master vampires was with artillery.
“I brought you here so we could talk,” Jack said, not sounding upset or surprised that I had just tried to kill him. He didn’t even show me his fangs, but I realized the temperature had suddenly dropped. There was another flash of movement and Mo No Ken went clattering down the alley. He’d effortlessly ripped it from my grasp.
“Okay…” Listening beat dying so I played it cool. “What can I do for you, Jack?”
“Here’s the deal, Chad…”
“I prefer Iron Hand.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Whatever, Chad. I’m here to do you a favor. I’ve seen Hunters come and go, and contrary to what you might believe about my kind, I don’t mind you meddlesome little pricks all that much.”
“That’s kind of surprising.” I nodded my chin toward the melting college student.
“Amusements and pets. The vampires you weed out are those too stupid to follow orders or too feral to listen to reason. Basically, hunters keep out the riff raff. Too much human blood shed draws attention, and attention causes me inconvenience.”
“Then you should tell your little minions to calm down.”
“That’s the problem, Chad. They aren’t listening so well anymore. New Orleans has become a vortex, drawing the darkness in. The uncivilized of my kind feel compelled to come here, their hunger magnified. Every half-wit who has ever played at magic is suddenly a powerful necromancer. It is all the fault of a new player in town. Or perhaps I should say old player, but it has recently turned its malevolent gaze upon us once again.”
“The activity spikes during the full moon…” Too bad, we had hoped things were actually calming down. Ray’s team had even gone back to Cazador. “I thought we were through that.”
“No. Recently you have merely been enjoying the temporary lull of a cyclical hunger. It was full, but now it’s back. What you’ve seen before? It is nothing compared to what’s coming to this town next.”
It was so cold next to the vampire that I was beginning to shiver. “How come you haven’t taken it out then?”
“It is beyond my reach. It is incredibly powerful. It troubles me. This thing is an outsider. A trespasser. It’s a…a…”
“Tourist.”
“Damned right,” Jack said. “Fucking tourists.”
In Seattle I had learned that monsters had turf wars too. After we had taken out that Lich, it had been chaos until I’d found our Fey princess to take its place. It sounded like Jack didn’t like being deposed. What the hell? I had gotten monster intel from the Yakuza. How much worse could this be?
Well, obviously a lot worse, but Jack the super vampire hadn’t ripped me in half yet.
“Tell me where this thing is then, and I’ll handle it.”
“In time. Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch.” With a nod from Jack, the other vampires retreated. I caught glimpses of them spider climbing up the walls. In seconds they were all gone. “Right now, you’ve got more important things to deal with. A normally inept priestess has asked for a curse upon tonight’s celebration, and our ambivalent yet powerful tourist god has granted her wishes beyond her wildest dreams. You’ll want to gather all your forces and head toward Royal.”
“What are we dealing with?”
“Something bad enough that if it breaks free, thousands of mortals will perish, and then my city will be crawling with so many government men that I’ll never be free of the annoyance…Assuming the carpet baggers don’t just pull the plug and flood the whole place. Believe me. If they knew what was here, they would not hesitate. I’ve seen the entire world in ways your pathetic mortal mind can’t even begin to comprehend, but this is, and always will be my home. There is nothing else like this place, distinct, and wonderful. I wish to keep it that way.”
It’s like Trevor said. New Orleans natives always come back.
“We’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Good luck, Iron Hand.”
I blinked, and Jack had already vanished.
By the time I got on the radio, the temperature was returning to normal. Freakin’ creepy super vampires.
* * *
Just as I finished warning the others, Caleb came running up.
“What took you so long?”
“Have you seen the crowds?” Caleb said, bending over and putting his hands on his knees to pant. Big guys. No stamina.
Jack had said we’d need all of our forces, so I was checking if anybody had eyes on the MCB.
“I see some SRT from here dressed up like cops,” Shelbye replied. “I can shoot the big scary one to get his attention.”
The big scary one was probably Agent Franks. Shelbye was up on in the bell tower of Saint Louis Cathedral with a Barrett, a .30-06 BDL and her M14. So she pretty much had the whole area covered. The Bishop hadn’t even blinked when I had asked if she could stay up there.
“I called Castro directly and gave the SIU a head’s up,” Trevor responded, sharply. “Hang on, Shelbye, river side. What the hell is that coming over the levee?”
“That’s…crawfish? Big ass crawfish! Whoo, hoo, we gonna be havin’ another fais doo-doo!”
“I’m getting close to the water. There’s…hundreds. The river is swarming with them. All teams to the riverfront!” Trevor said.
I could hear fire starting from the bell tower as well as rapid fire from near the river. It was barely audible over the Mardi Gras madness.
“Retransmit! All teams to the riverfront! We’ve got—”
The call cut off.
CHAPTER 29
Rock and Roll Party in the Street
“Shit, shit,” Shelbye radioed. “Trevor is down. Who�
�s in charge?”
“This is Hand. I’m in charge.”
I jumped up on the dumpster, did another jump to a window-ledge then up to the roof.
“Where are you going?” Caleb shouted.
This way would be faster, but Caleb probably wasn’t athletic enough to make it. “Get to the car and grab more guns,” I yelled down, then got back on the radio. “All teams converge on Royal. Shelbye, what are we looking at?”
“Crawfish? Giant lobsters? Hundreds? Thousands? They’re coming out the river and…Shit. They’re cracking people’s heads open and sucking out their brains. I think they got Trevor.”
“Who else do I have?” They began to check in. Fred Ramsey and Brent Waters were heading for Trevor. Caleb was getting more weapons and Shelbye was above. That was all of Hoodoo Squad.
I was up on the roof of the Place d’Armes by then and could see what Shelbye was looking at.
They were arthropods, for sure. Similar to crawfish or lobster but they were multi-colored, mostly white and red with some electric blues, and about a yard long. In addition, rather than having two smallish claws, like a crawfish, they had one massive one that looked more like a blunt instrument. Which was exactly what it was.
Decatur Street was crawling with the things right by Jackson Square. As I watched a middle-aged, short, balding guy was desperately trying to run away up Saint Ann. One of the arthropods used its tail to jump through the air and land on the guy’s back. The club-claw flashed blurringly fast and his head was cracked wide open. As he fell to the ground the…crawfish? Lobster? no, mantis shrimp, stuck a proboscis in the brains and sucked them right down.
Then it started crawling after more prey.
Most of the mass seemed to be heading into Jackson Square and up Saint Ann. People had seen what was happening and were running for their lives. Unfortunately, the Mardi Gras crowds, drunk as skunks, were surging that way to see what fais doo-doo was going on over there! Woo-hoo! Love Mardi Gras! That was keeping the runners from getting away. Luckily when the gunfire started, that got most of the mob moving in the right direction.
Most of the businesses on the lower floors were closing their doors when they could. Panicked people were pushing in and preventing that. Mantis were flooding in behind them.
“All teams assemble near Royal and Ann. Get up on the balconies. We can’t fight these things in the crowds.” I took my own advice and climbed unto a balcony. Elevation worked for shamblers, so hopefully it helped with killer crustaceans too. “Forget collateral damage on this one. We can’t let these things get to Bourbon. They’re some sort of killer mantis shrimp.”
“Copy,” Shelbye said. “Mantis moving through Jackson Square, up Saint Ann and the alleys.”
“Anyone passing SIU or SRT, drag them over here,” I said. “We hold the line at Royal! We do not let these things get to Bourbon.”
“This is Fred. We’re moving up Dumaine as fast as we can but the crowds are insane and there’s a parade in the way.”
“Throw flash-bangs if you think it will help!”
I drew my pistol. The range was long for .45 but I’d been practicing constantly. The ones jumping were a no-go. The ones crawling, and most of them were, or feeding were targets, I could hit. I nailed one that was feeding, blowing the crustacean away but hitting the already dead female victim beneath it too. The mantis weren’t very big.
“Shelbye, concentrate on the ones in the park,” I said. “Fred, status?”
“Can’t…get…through…Get the hell out of my way you fat fuck!”
“This is Caleb, I’ve got some long guns from Honeybear.”
“Caleb, Hand, get the hotel to get you up on the roof then head to Chartres and Saint Ann.” I went back to shooting. Everybody for blocks would hear those gunshots. If it kept them moving away from the monsters, good.
“MHI, cease fire! Cease fire!”
“Who the hell is this?” I radioed, but I already knew. Trevor had given Castro our channels a long time ago.
“This is MCB SRT. Cease fire! You will cease causing a major incident during Mardi Gras! Are you insane?”
“You already have an incident!” I shouted. “And I don’t have time to hold you fucking hand. You’ve got people dead already and a wave of angry, brain-sucking crustaceans headed right for the parade, which is being broadcast live on national television! So are you going to get your head out of your ass and help?”
“Those are not our orders,” the unknown agent said. “Stand by.”
“Overridden.” That was Special Agent in Charge Castro. “I can see this from the chopper. This is a Class Four, Yellow, say again, Class Four, Yellow. SRT and all other MCB and SIU teams will deploy, immediately, to protect the parade. If it hits the main body of tourists, right on broadcast network, it goes to Class Five, Red.”
“Our orders are to—”
A police helicopter passed overhead. That had to be Castro.
“This will be essentially uncontainable if they make it to the parade, Special Agent, and I will absolutely kill your career if you sit this out. You know what? Fuck this desk jockey chicken shit. Somebody tell Franks the forces of evil are going nuts over here. We need SRT at Royal and Saint Ann, stat. Everyone switch to MHI’s channel to coordinate.”
“Moving forward to observe. SRT out.”
I didn’t understand MCB internal politics, but invoking Agent Franks must have worked. I’d been potting crustaceans and reloading furiously as the conversation continued. The problem being, because we had been working low profile, I was getting low on rounds. We were going to have to finish this in minutes or the wave of mantis were going to hit Bourbon like an all-you-can-eat human buffet.
Frankly, all my pistol fire was pissing in the wind. We needed claymores and belt feds for this. This was worse than Portland’s spider problem. More mantis were making it up the street than the number I’d killed.
Suddenly, Caleb appeared at my side on the balcony. He passed over my Uzi and an assault vest full of magazines. While he began firing his M16, I threw on my vest. That was much better. There were so many mantis moving down the street that it was hard to miss. Together, the two of us started stacking bodies.
The mantis were scurrying about, each one about the size of a dog, but much faster. They didn’t appear to have any strategy other than head directly toward the nearest living thing, club its head in, and slurp out the contents. There was a wave of them, and it was about to crash right over us.
Several MCB in SWAT gear ran up the street below. I heard them coming, because they were shouting at the fleeing civilians something about drug gangs getting into a shootout, and to get out of here. They were more worried about the people being witnesses than surviving.
“Oh, hell,” the agent in the lead said.
“Sorry, did you think I was exaggerating?” I said, not taking my eye from the sights.
The SRT opened fire.
More down. I was getting about one kill for every two shots. And at that rate I was going to run out of ammo long before we ran out of mantis. Just filing the PUFF was going to be a pain-in-the-ass. I think we might set a record with this one. Or someone else would if we all got killed.
I took out one of my white phosphorus grenades and tossed it at a cluster of the things in the road. It wasn’t going to hurt any people. Everyone in the intersection was already dead. The Willy Pete had very little effect. A couple mantis were badly burned but the rest just kept on trucking or went around. So much for fire.
As I was thinking that, a mantis peered over the roof above me.
I lifted my muzzle and fired. It dropped past me and fell into the street. Then I looked around.
The fuckers were climbing up the walls of the buildings, and going in through second story windows and doors.
The SRT agents were mostly using MP5s, and their subguns were chattering like crazy. But there were so damned many targets that we were still getting overrun by brain-sucking crawfish. Good news was, get
ting your skull crushed looked like a quick way to go. Better than fucking spiders.
Caleb’s M16 was doing a fair job on the crustaceans climbing up the wall. I’d worried that the light rounds wouldn’t penetrate their thick carapace. But they were going right through and apparently doing a real number on them.
I wished right then I had an M16. First time I’d wished that in…ever. Lots and lots of rounds would be good about now. We were piling up mantis bodies on the street below. But more were just going right by up Saint Ann. We were completely surrounded and about to be engulfed.
“Caleb, climb for the roof. I’ll be right behind you.”
The mantis began leaping up at us, and man could they jump. MCB agents below screamed as they were dragged down, and bludgeoned or clawed to pieces. I pulled myself up onto the roof, and discovered that there were already more mantis swarming up the other side.
“Fuck this,” I said, drawing Mo No Ken.
I wasn’t sure how well the sword would work. A mantis was skittering right at me. I swung, slicing right through its giant claw and deep into the top of its body. The carapace was hard but no match for Japanese steel. I jerked Mourning out and the mantis slid over the edge, twitching. I started slashing and kicking crustaceans off the roof while Caleb kept shooting.
And then more of the MCB arrived on the street below. Franks was just chewing gum placidly, as if all these tourists dying didn’t seem to matter to him. He looked over the carnage and the swarm of monsters trying to rip us to pieces, and nodded, like no big deal.
Then he laid in with that pussy MP5 like nobody I’d ever seen in my life. In a second it seemed, the wall of the building, the balcony, the far building, were clear. Then he reloaded faster than any normal human should, went down the street, and went on a fucking rampage. One of the mantis leapt through the air at him. He grabbed it out of mid-air and hit it in what on a mantis would be the face. The thing shattered in a spray of blood, coating him in red.
I could see the mantis going into the apartment across the street. People were dying in there as well. There were screams from under our feet. The street was littered with bodies of the dead, wearing bead necklaces, their heads cracked open and so much blood and brains spilled out the blood was running into the sewers.
