The Push Chronicles (Book 2): Indefatigable

by J. B. Garner

  "I think you underestimate people too much, is what I think." He put the clipboard into a wall holder and rubbed his eyes. "I also know there isn't shit I can do to talk you out of anything, so I'm just wasting my breath."

  "You're not," I tried to assure him. "If this were anything else, I'd take a raincheck. I'm ..." I took a deep breath. "I'm trying, okay? I haven't taken a single pill since this started, I swear to God." I was being honest. I really believed in my heart that I would have sat out any other mission but this. But Ian Mackenzie, no, there was no way I was sitting this out.

  "When you make it a week, then we'll talk." He shook his head. "Which means you better make sure your ass lives through today, alright?"

  "I will do my best."

  "Get out of here, then, before I change your mind and have Ex ground you." He made a shooing motion for the door. I hopped off the bed and squirmed into my clothes, doing my best to make good on Duane's capitulation.

  It was well into afternoon before everything was ready. Our cadre met up with Captain Braxton in an innocent-looking Public Works enclosure erected for 'emergency sewer maintenance'. The entire side-street had been closed off from the public and several undercover PART officers tried to look useful playing with some of Water & Sewers equipment.

  "Here's the deal, folks," Braxton said, pointing at a sewer map with several highlighted routes, "there are unfortunately a lot of ways in and out of this area." He pointed at what best we could figure was Mackenzie's hideout. Blanchard's ramblings helped confirm that it was definitely Ian Mackenzie that had been at the bar. Unfortunately, his encounter with the undead had blown the rest of the poor man's mind.

  "So they have a lot of escape routes but, at the same time, we have a lot of entry choices," Ex replied. "Here are four main arteries in that aren't filled. We could do split up and hit them from all sides."

  "That sounds risky," Hexagon said. "No offense to no one, but we ain't exactly at one hundred percent, boss." I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't like being a hindrance to anything, my own plans or others.

  "Good point, Hex." He glanced at Mind's Eye. "No luck, I'm guessing?"

  "Your guess is correct," the blind psychic nodded in his direction. "Between what I can only assume to be Mackenzie's presence and the lack of fate these undead creatures seem to carry, I can detect nothing but fog and smoke." It was hard to foresee the futures of corpses, I imagined.

  "I don't see much other choice than a single entry group effort," I offered up. "Someone might get away, but it's better to have to hunt strays than for anyone to get killed with us separated."

  "Unfortunately, heroes," Joe interjected, "I can't promise much in the way of support. I've got a unit of SWAT on stand by, but I'm not sure they would be any kind of good against these blood-suckers Ex described to me. The mayor isn't even buying the full story yet so that limits my resources a lot."

  "Thanks, Joe," Ex nodded. "I know you get your hands tied a lot and anything you've got is better than nothing." He looked over at me. "I can't think of any other options either, Indy." He ran his hands through his short hair. "I don't like it though. It just seems too simple."

  "Maybe we just got lucky and managed to finally get a jump on him even though we haven't had any luck for three months straight and now suddenly we're on Mackenzie's doorstep but you know I hear you can get lucky breaks all the time in police work, right, Captain?" the Human Tank observed. Captain Braxton just nodded. I doubted he entirely understood the question.

  Personally, I couldn't help but agree with Extinguisher. At the same time though, what choice did we have? If there was even a hint of truth to the whole 'vampire-blood-water' plan, we couldn't wait around any longer. We had to act.

  "Okay, team," Extinguisher looked to each of us, "you too, Archer. Let's get to it."

  Navigating an active sewer system was one of many horrible experiences I would never have experienced if not for the Whiteout. Our trip wasn't dangerous but slower than any of us would have liked. Not that we didn't appreciate the stench of decaying sewage or the wonderfully claustrophobic environment, no. It was the ticking time bomb of the sun's descent.

  Even if we did make it while the sun was up, it was only a minor advantage. I thought about my first encounter in the bowels of Underground and tightened my bandolier of wooden stakes. At least this time I made sure to have that crucifix around my neck. I was in the middle of the pack. Hex was up front and Tank pulled up the rear as the two toughest people we had in our little group.

  It was, by my watch, near four-thirty p.m. when we came to the home stretch. This particular tunnel opened up a bit, letting even the mammoth Hexagon stand to his full height, and not a hundred yards ahead we could see dim lights that had to come from the chamber outlined in the Hogs' documents.

  By now, we had all done this sort of thing a few times. For all of our quirks, foibles, and invisible walls, these moments at the door to life and death had forged a certain bond. There wasn't need for words, we fell into our assigned pattern easily. Hexagon, Meds, and I ranged in a front arc, the very nature of what we could do forced us to the front, while Ex and Archer stayed at the back. Mind's Eye kept as she usually did with Tank as he ranged in the space between our ranks.

  As we got closer, there was barely a sound outside of the dripping water, our own footsteps, and ... I strained my ears ... Holst? I could faintly hear the sound of Mars, the Bringer of War as we got to the edge of the chamber. I could swear that I heard something else under the music but I just couldn't be sure.

  This area was an old pumping station that had been put into disuse and, as often happens in government bureaucracy, forgotten about, with orders for renovation shuffled a dozen times. Someone had apparently decided to do their own work to bring things up to speed, as most of the equipment looked new and well-kept. Of course, the new owners felt the need to do some redecorating as well. The thirty neatly arranged steel boxes, all about coffin-sized, really brought out the color of the sewer slime in the walls. The music was louder now and came, rather obviously, from a CD player and speakers sitting on a folding card table, smack dab in the center of the room. Numerous small tunnels and pipes led off to sub-chambers for pumping and storing sewage and water.

  Something was very wrong, but nothing exploded or drenched us in fire as we entered the chamber. This time, I wasn't the one to catch it. Archer suddenly shouted from the back, as Hexagon was right at the table.

  "Egads, my audio system is detecting numerous high-frequency sound sources," he reported. "My friends, I think -"

  The air erupted with screeching as we were surrounded on all sides by vampire Hogs, dressed in military garb. They burst out of the water, formed out of rolling mists from connecting pipes, or suddenly sprang from the concealment of their coffins. It was all rather obvious, in hindsight. The music was just a cover to make it harder to detect the super-speed squeals of their coordination. I wouldn't have been shocked if a misted vampire had been following us ever since we got within a half-mile of this place.

  Stupid Irene, if only you'd thought of that sooner.

  Under many circumstances, I would say that thirty Hogs versus the seven of us wouldn't have been a real fight. Oh, we'd get hurt, but as long as one of them didn't get a lucky shot on yours truly, we would mop them up. The vampire addition, however, turned the equation on its head. Vampires on their home turf? That further complicated things.

  "Wagons, people!" Ex shouted out as he conjured up a semi-circle of solid ice to shield our rear. That was the sign to, naturally, 'circle the wagons' and stick together. A pack swept in towards us at the front as we tried to join ranks. Hexagon grabbed the first two and began to pummel them with his hammer-like fists. Medusa caught one with her gaze before being tackled by another.

  Before Meds could be dog-piled, I ran right in, flipping a charging vamp over my shoulder as I moved. A swift, sure motion and the beast on her sprouted a new wooden accessory. I was getting kind of good at this. Hexagon dashed one of
his opponents into the stone floor, a delaying tactic at best, and staked the other. Behind us, the chaos of open battle was making it hard to tell just what was going on.

  "Thanks, Indy," Medusa shouted, driving a stake into the vampire caught in stony half-life from her gaze. "We need to get back to the othersss." I nodded then blanched as I saw one of the vampires level an assault rifle in our direction.

  "Hex!"

  "On it, ladies," Hex replied and hurled the now-inert corpse like a rather grotesque javelin. It crashed into the gunman with extreme force, smashing into messy chunks. The vampire flew off his feet and splashed into one of the water chambers. Things could have been going worse, I thought. That's when the grenades hit.

  It's hard to track thirty opponents, no matter how fast your brain and reflexes are, in the swirling mass of Push combat, especially in the dark chambers of a sewer. I didn't even see where the grenade came from, only the splash and bounce as it landed in the midst of us.

  "Grenade!" I shouted as I dove away from the metal canister. There was a tremendous clap of thunder and a bright flash from behind as I hit the deck. Stun grenade. At least I could see, though even the dive hadn't saved my hearing. Focusing hard, I forced myself to stand, no matter how messed up my inner ear was. Barely a moment on my feet and I felt cold dead arms around my waist. The vamp had come in behind me, taking advantage of the cover of silence.

  I threw a hard elbow behind me as the monster lifted me up and scored with the now-familiar sensation of bone and flesh caving from the strike. Its grip loosened and I twisted free. My balance was starting to return, even if my hearing wasn't, as I landed on my feet. I spun around as the corpse's skull snapped back into place with a sickening crunch. As I sidestepped its lunge, I noticed I was getting further away from my colleagues, who at least were holding their own. I couldn't afford to be separated and swarmed, so I flung a wild stake at my current dance partner to make him keep his head down and sprinted for the team.

  The first sign my hearing was returning was catching, at the edge of my hearing range, a sudden unintelligible command. A good dozen of the vampire greeting party suddenly turned to mist in unison, completely obscuring my vision. I couldn't see a foot in front of my face and my ears were still ringing hard from the flash-bang. I started to slowly back towards the last wall I had seen.

  The first vampire to come out of the mist at me I expected, as it came from where I had just thrown that stake. Its mouth open and fangs bared, the corpse came straight at me, my stake still stuck in its shoulder. Never underestimate the disorientation of having almost no hearing. The ringing in my ears left my timing off, despite my readiness. I had meant to take advantage of its over-extension to drive it to the ground with a hammer punch then stake it. Instead, it buried itself into my mid-section, the only thing saving my ribs being its Pushed nature, and the impact sent us both to the ground.

  Gritting my teeth and shifting the pain away, I simply started to pound away at the monster with my fists. The first shot cracked open the top of the skull, the second smashed the right side of the cheek and jaw in. I cocked back a hand for a third, but the creature recoiled up, still kneeling but no longer pinning me. Bringing both of my legs up, I kicked out with my full body strength, shattering rotting bone and flinging the creature like a cannonball back into the mists.

  I drew another stake as I scrambled to my feet. The ringing in my ears still persisted, but it was getting better. It was good enough to hear a series of hammering footfalls to my right. And my left. And from behind. I just cursed and drew a stake with my off-hand.

  To my personal credit, I staked the first bastard. To my dismay, I wasn't quite so lucky with numbers two and three. To my surprise, I wasn't beaten like a drum, though I pulled my shoulder as I struggled. There was only a moment of movement, a rush of wind really, then I was hurled like a rag doll through the air. I hit the stone floor hard and rolled to a stop, scraped up, bruised, but remarkably alive.

  As I rolled up to my feet, I realized they had moved me quite a ways, far enough that my memory of the sewer map was useless. No gas or mist here, it looked like a crude break room, probably set up by some maintenance workers who didn't want slog all the way to the surface each time they wanted to sip a cup of coffee.

  "I apologize that the invitation was rough, Dr. Roman," came the cultured, even-toned voice from the shadows, "but it really was imperative we meet in person, don't you agree?"

  I recognized the man I saw as I spun to face the voice. Ian Shane Mackenzie, the architect of so much spilled blood, stood there casually, thumbs hooked into the loops of his fatigue pants. If not for the head-to-toe paramilitary gear, you could have easily mistaken him for your kindly, older uncle with his graying red hair and bright eyes.

  "I'm not sure we have a lot to talk about, Mr. Mackenzie." I eased into a fighting stance. He was untouched, not even a cut from shaving and I was a complete mess. I may have had a decade of youth on him, but with his Natural abilities, I wasn't sure how much that would matter.

  "Oh, Irene, seriously, you can't see that?" Ian shook his head, tutting softly. "Well, maybe there does need to be a demonstration made. Maybe then, you'll understand that it's better to talk than to posture."

  With that, he came at me, as fast as I imagine I looked to others.

  Chapter 12 Mackenzie

  "What I am sure you didn't know," Mackenzie calmly noted as he led in with a right hand, "is that we are as different as they are." Slipping under his first punch, I barely saw the second jab blur in, but I was still able to deflect it. Unfortunately, I had to use my right forearm which added to the damage it already had suffered. As close as we were, I retaliated with an unorthodox headbutt, looking to clash skulls right at the start. He must have seen it coming just as I had seen his own attacks as he suddenly leaned back at the knees, evading the blow.

  "Oh really?" I asked, just to keep him engaged. "I know you're crazy and I'm not. There's one difference." Maybe, though it wasn't likely, it might distract him. As he popped back up, I grabbed the lapels of his camo jacket and pivoted, swinging him with all my might at the metal door of the chamber. Before I could release, he countered by grabbing my own lapels. In a complete reversal, it was the back of my head that was smashed into the metal, not his. I really didn't have a total conception of just how hurt I was until now. All I could hope was that I could keep focused and ignore my myriad injuries long enough to take Mackenzie down.

  "Don't play that game, you know it won't work," he smiled as he jammed a forearm against my jaw. "I can think as fast as you can, faster actually." Asshole. I brought a knee up hard into his chest; even with all of his training he was just a bit too close to avoid it. Preferring to release the hold than take excessive punishment, Ian bounced back as I dropped back onto my feet.

  "Oh, my dear, do not be offended in the least." God, would he shut up? "As I said, even people like us ... there are more than just us two, you know ... have different unique qualities. For instance -" I interrupted his lecture by hurling a stake at him, blunt end first. He managed to duck it, but it was only a distraction to cover a step kick aimed for Ian's family jewels. Sure, he probably had some kind of protection there, but one biker boot and my full strength and it was the end of the family line. I couldn't tell if he expected the second attack or simple reflexes let him catch the leg and push himself back away a step.

  The thing was he was right. I began already to read the differences. He was actually slower than I was, maybe not as strong either. If I were not a walking road map of bruises and cuts, I would probably be winning this handily. At the same time, I couldn't bother myself with a conversation and keep focused on the fight so my accelerated thinking must be a tad slower than his. Who knew what other differences there were?

  It didn't matter, because I wasn't going to let him prattle on about it. I let the deflected kick just act as another step forward and threw a quick right hand in pursuit of Mackenzie's jaw. He blocked that shot easily enough and
tried to counterstrike with a cross. As the punch whistled over my ducked head, I crab-stepped forward and threw a sharp short uppercut out of my crouch. Ian barely kept his head attached to his body as he pulled his neck back, but I know I scored a hard tap on the chin.

  Too late, though, I realized I had thrown too much of my weight forward with that punch. Mackenzie recovered from his swaying dodge first and struck like a snake, stabbing his fingers like a knife into the the meat of my lats. Ignoring the register of pain, I pulled away, hoping he would follow. He must have decided his own game was more fun than anything I had to offer as he too danced back a step.

  "See, right there!" Ian chuckled., rubbing at the growing bruise on his chin. "That amazing quickness, even faster than I am." He kept retreating, almost goading me in. "The footage really doesn't do it justice. I just hope to see it someday when you are at your best." He was either stalling or leading and I wouldn't play that game.

  "Point made," I acknowledged, trying to assess just how bad that strike to my side was. "You know, I may not be quite as fast-thinking as you, but I'm not stupid." I kept a close eye on him. It didn't help that he was armed to the teeth.

  "I know you aren't," Ian nodded. "Why do you think I had, until now, stayed far away, observing? I couldn't risk a potential confrontation, not before I was ready or, more precisely, you were ready." That explained why we never came close; he wasn't there to begin with.

  "What makes tonight so gosh darn special?" I could see the little muscles starting to tense in his arms. He was about to move.

  "Oh please," Ian rolled his eyes, "you know as well as I do that I'm not one of your silly Pushcrooks. The Whiteout hasn't blanked my mind like so many other people." There it was, movement, as he drew his sidearm in a blur. I guess this was his way of testing how fast I actually was.

  I pushed off with everything I had left in the tank. Two hopping steps ate the distance to the wall as he fired his first shot into empty air. The second bullet struck the stone right behind me as I kicked off the wall. He tried to wait for an opening for one more shot, but I was already in his face, smacking the gun aside with a backhand. There wasn't a look of surprise on his face though. That tell-tale 'oh no' look that most sane people make when they are disarmed. The hand taser jabbed into my ribs and sent who knew how many volts of electricity through my body.