by Tim Waggoner
“Pete!” he called.
The stunt man didn’t need further explanation. He dashed forward, raised his machete, and chopped at a section of the cord between Jarrod and Tasha. The cord was tight against the roof, and Pete was able to cut through it with a single strike. Seawater mixed with blood gushed from both ends of the severed cord, and the part in Tasha’s hand kept whipping around for several seconds before its movements slowed and it finally fell limp.
Tasha threw the section of umbilicus to the roof with an expression of disgust.
“The damn thing feels like it’s covered in snot,” she said. She knelt and wiped her hands on the roof as best she could.
“The Mass can control people, too?” Shari said. “Jesus Christ.”
A voice came shouting up from the alley then.
“Hey, anyone up there need help?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jarrod recognized that voice, and he wasn’t the only one.
“It’s Grady!” Tamara said.
“Did you fuck him, too?” Pete muttered, but Tamara acted like she didn’t hear him. She rushed to the building’s edge, moving so fast Jarrod feared she might pitch over the side. She didn’t, though. She put her hands palm down on the ledge and peered down into the alley.
“Grady! Hey, it’s us!”
She raised a hand and waved it vigorously in the air, as if afraid the sheriff might miss seeing her otherwise. The others hurried over to join her, except Tasha, who hung back, frowning, and Jarrod, who remained at her side.
“Is something wrong?” Jarrod asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” She gave him a rueful smiled. “Psychic powers aren’t known for their precision.”
“Seems to me you’ve been doing fine so far. Let’s see what’s happening.” Jarrod put a hand on Tasha’s shoulder and the two of them went over to join the others.
Sure enough, the man standing in the alley looking up at them was Grady Silva, and he was armed with a pistol. If the man hadn’t been armed, Jarrod figured he would’ve been shark food by now. There was something odd about the way he was standing, though. Jarrod couldn’t put his finger on it at first, but then he realized what it was. Grady stood next to the opposite building, so close that his back was practically pressed up against it. It was almost as if he was trying to protect his back –
– or hide it.
“How did you all end up on the roof?” Grady called.
“Landshark attack!” Susan shouted down.
“Lot of that going around,” Grady said. “My people have got the area pretty well cleared out, so it’s safe to come down.” He paused, then added, “Unless you want to stay up there until morning, just to be on the safe side.”
“No way I’m staying,” Shari said. “Those fuckers can climb!” Without looking at either Pete or Tamara, she went to the fire escape and started heading down.
The others looked at Jarrod.
“It might be our best bet,” he said. “Once we’re on the ground, we can head inland. The sharks’ umbilical cords can only stretch so far, right?”
He didn’t need to convince them any further. One by one, they followed Shari down the fire escape, leaving Jarrod and Tasha behind.
Jarrod looked at Tasha. “If you want to stay up here, I’ll remain with you,” he said.
For an instant, he thought she was going to take him up on his offer, but then she gave her head a shake, as if to dismiss her doubts, and she stepped onto the fire escape. A moment later, Jarrod followed.
The fire escape seemed even less sturdy than it had on their way up, but it held and several minutes later everyone was standing in the alley with Grady.
Once on the ground, Tasha moved close to Jarrod and stood half behind him.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered. “This isn’t right.”
Grady’s gaze fixed on Tasha, and his mouth stretched into a slow smile. He raised his gun and pointed it at them.
“What was your first clue?” he said.
Jarrod stared at Grady, his mouth literally hanging open. This time when the man spoke, the voice wasn’t his. It was Inez’s. And that’s when Jarrod saw the umbilicus on the ground, pressed close to the wall where it would be harder to see from the roof. One end of the cord stretched to the alley’s mouth and out into the street, while the other disappeared behind Grady’s feet, no doubt continuing up his legs to the back of his spine. Grady belonged to the Mass now. But why the hell was he speaking in Inez’s voice?
“Put your weapons on the ground and slide them over to me,” Grady said.
Susan and Pete glanced at each other. Both held their weapons at their sides – they’d thought Grady was a friend – and Jarrod guessed they were checking each other’s willingness to risk getting shot before attempting a move against Grady. Neither must have thought much of their chances, for they did as Grady ordered. When the shotgun and rusty machete rested at his feet, Grady stepped over them, blocking them with his body.
Smart move, Jarrod thought. Anyone who made an attempt to get the weapons back would have to go through Grady and end up getting shot.
“I know you all have a lot of questions, but I loathe gratuitous exposition sequences. Suffice it to say that I am now the Mass, and the Mass is me. And tonight we’re making the greatest real-life horror movie in history.”
Not only was the voice Inez’s, but Grady spoke with her speech inflections and cadences. And his body language mirrored Inez’s as well.
Jarrod glanced at Tasha, but she didn’t take her eyes off Grady. But Grady – or Inez – was looking at him.
“And what horror movie would be complete without the great Jarrod Drayton? You play the hero in this one, Jarrod. A tragic hero, as it turns out. Imagine my surprise when I tried to join with you and discovered your body isn’t exactly your best friend right now.”
The others turned to look at Jarrod.
“What’s he – she – talking about?” Tamara asked.
“I have leukemia,” Jarrod said. Speaking the words was easier than he’d thought it would be, and more than that, it was freeing.
“Oh my god,” Susan said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, love. I’ve made my peace with it. And we have bigger fish to fry right now.”
“A fish joke,” Inez said appreciatively. “Nice.”
Pete’s gaze wasn’t focused on Jarrod but rather on Grady’s face. Jarrod saw Pete tensing his body and he knew the man was considering making a grab for the sheriff’s weapon. Jarrod couldn’t fault Pete’s bravery, but he thought going for the gun would be a mistake. Whatever the Mass – or Inez – had done to Grady, the man continued to move normally. There was no reason to think his reflexes were hindered in any way, which meant that if Pete went for the weapon, there was an excellent chance he’d end up catching a bullet in his gut.
“By the way, what do you think of the sharks?” Inez said. “I had to do a bit of genetic engineering to make them landworthy. It wasn’t easy – took quite a lot out of me, in fact – but I think it was worth it.”
Pete moved forward, just an inch, but both Shari and Tamara put hands on his shoulders to stop him. This little domestic drama would’ve been fascinating to watch, Jarrod thought, if it wasn’t for all the goddamned monsters.
Tasha had been silent for several minutes. At first, Jarrod thought it was because she was scared, but when he turned to look at her, he saw an expression of fierce concentration on her face. Her gaze was focused intently on Grady, and Jarrod understood she was attempting to read his mind. Or Inez’s. He wished he could somehow help her. The more they learned about the Mass – what it was and what it wanted – the better their chances of surviving the night would be.
“Things have been going great so far,” Grady said with Inez’s voice. “Lots of screaming, lots of dying, blood spilled all over the place – not to mention an absolute fuck-ton of tasty-tasty meat. But it’s time to increase the stakes, make them more personal, you know what I
’m saying? So here’s the deal.”
Jarrod sensed movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to see a pair of landsharks enter from one end of the alley. He turned to look in the opposite direction and saw another pair of sharks approaching from that direction.
Inez continued. “You’re going to select one of you to get torn to pieces by my four friends here. If you don’t select someone, you’re all going to die. And here’s the kicker: the vote has to be unanimous.”
The sharks stopped five feet away from Jarrod and the others, blocking off their only routes of escape. Grady’s mouth widened into a mirthless grin, displaying his teeth.
“Isn’t this just fucking brilliant? I’ll give you five minutes to decide, and your time starts –”
Grady/Inez broke off, frowning. He cocked his head to the side, as if he was listening for something. He remained like that for several seconds, then his head snapped upright and his gaze focused on Tasha with laser-like intensity.
“Well now, aren’t you a surprise? Who would’ve guessed an unassuming little nobody like you would turn out to be a goddamned psychic? Talk about a plot twist! You’re good, Tasha. Very good. I almost didn’t feel you sneaking around in my mind, trying to discover my secrets, hoping to learn if I have any weaknesses you can exploit,” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Guess what? I don’t have any. I wouldn’t have survived since the proverbial dawn of time if I had.”
Grady’s brow furrowed in thought.
“Well, this certainly changes things. My little game seems like pretty small potatoes compared to discovering that one of my film crew is an honest-to-Christ psychic. That’s okay, though. No, it’s better than okay. It’s fan-fucking-tastic! When you’re a producer, you need to be flexible. Adaptable. You need to know how to improvise. So, new plan.”
Grady holstered his weapon, then without warning he dashed toward Tasha. Pete tried to intercept him, but one of the sharks lunged forward and grabbed his leg in its jaws. Pete bellowed in agony, and he turned toward the shark and started pounding its head with both fists while blood ran from his leg and pooled on the ground around his feet.
Jarrod stepped in front of Tasha to protect her, but Grady was a younger – and beefier – man. He backhanded Jarrod across the face, and the actor stumbled to the side. He would’ve gone down if he hadn’t managed to slap his hands against the alley wall to steady himself.
Grady grabbed Tasha and wrapped his arms around her tight. Shari started kicking the shark that had sunk its teeth into her husband’s leg, and Tamara ran toward Grady, hoping to somehow free Tasha. But before she could reach them, the umbilicus attached to Grady’s spine drew taut, and the man was yanked violently off his feet – and Tasha went with him. They flew through the air twenty feet before Grady landed hard on his back with the crack of breaking bones. The man didn’t cry out in pain from his injuries, nor did he loosen his grip on Tasha. The umbilicus retracted rapidly, pulling Grady and Tasha toward one end of the alley. Grady’s body slid across the ground as if it was slick as ice, and then he and Tasha disappeared into the night.
The four landsharks that had answered Inez’s summons remained motionless, and Jarrod wondered if Inez was so focused on bringing Tasha to her – where she was physically located – that she’d forgotten about the sharks, and in the absence of direct orders, the creatures just sat there, waiting.
“The weapons,” Jarrod said.
Everyone had been watching Grady being recalled by the Mass, as motionless as the four sharks. Pete couldn’t move because one of the creatures still maintained its grip on his leg, but Susan and Tamara sprang into action. The women dashed forward, Susan grabbing the shotgun and Tamara picking up the machete. Susan raised her gun and fired at one of the sharks. As its head exploded – painting the alley walls crimson – Tamara tossed the machete to Pete. The man had to have been in agony from his wound, but he caught the machete easily, then jammed the point into one of the shark’s crimson eyes, shoving until the blade sank deep.
Pete might not have been an especially admirable person in Jarrod’s view, but the man was tough as hell, Jarrod had to give him that. Blood dribbled from the shark’s wounded head, spilling from its ruined socket and dribbling from its mouth, mixing with Pete’s own blood. Pete gritted his teeth and yanked the machete free. The shark slumped to the ground, but its grip on Pete’s leg didn’t slacken.
While Pete contended with his shark, Susan was busy dealing with the remaining three. She’d already killed one, and the remaining two – their survival instincts kicking into gear – began moving again. They lunged toward her, jaws open wide. She blasted one in the mouth, knocking it backward, but the other kept coming. Pete tossed the machete to Shari, and she began hacking at its umbilicus. The last shark whirled on Shari the moment she began trying to sever its cord, but Susan stepped forward, lowered the shotgun’s barrel to its head and fired. Blood and meat splattered Shari, and she closed her mouth and eyes, shivering with disgust.
Everyone looked around, expecting to see hordes of landsharks rushing toward them from both directions. But aside from them, and the four dead sharks, the alley remained empty.
“Help me get this fucker off my leg,” Pete said. His voice was strained, and Jarrod knew the man was in far more pain than he was letting on.
Working together, Jarrod, Susan, Shari, and Tamara worked on freeing Pete. Jarrod and Susan pried open the jaws – being careful not to slice their hands on the animal’s teeth – while Tamara and Shari grabbed hold of its tail and pulled. The women only managed to move it a couple inches, but that was enough. Pete took in a hissing breath as the shark’s teeth disengaged from his flesh. The wounds had already been bleeding, but without the teeth plugging the holes, blood flowed more freely, and Pete’s pants leg became soaked with it.
Jarrod and Susan released the shark’s mouth, and Jarrod quickly removed his belt, bent down, and wrapped it around Pete’s leg above where his injuries were. He threaded the leather strap through the buckle and tightened it. Pete drew in a sharp breath, and when Jarrod finished making the belt secure, he stood once more. Jarrod swayed on his feet, a bit dizzy, but the sensation quickly passed. So far, his cancer-ravaged body was holding up, but he didn’t know how much more exertion it could take before it refused to go any further.
Tamara removed her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but she displayed no sign of self-consciousness. Why would she? Pete and Shari had seen her breasts before, and Jarrod was gay. She ripped her shirt down the back, then knelt and tied it around Pete’s leg as a makeshift bandage. Jarrod wasn’t certain this was necessary since Pete’s leg was already tied off with a tourniquet, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. Shari and Tamara took up positions on either side of Pete to support him. He gratefully put his arms around their shoulders and took his weight off his wounded leg.
“We need to go after Tasha,” Jarrod said.
“We need to get Pete to a hospital,” Tamara countered.
They all looked at each other for several moments without speaking. Jarrod wanted to yell at Tamara, demand to know how she could even contemplate abandoning Tasha. But then he reminded himself that despite what Inez had said, this wasn’t a movie. Heroes didn’t shrug off wounds that would fell ordinary mortals and keep forging onward. If Pete didn’t get medical attention soon, there was a good chance he’d bleed out, tourniquet or no tourniquet. And in his current condition, he wouldn’t be much help on any rescue mission they might mount. Jarrod knew Shari and Tamara wouldn’t leave Pete. Somewhere along the line tonight they’d become a trio – even if they hadn’t realized it yet.
He gave Susan a questioning look. She didn’t really know Tasha, didn’t really know any of them, for that matter, and he had no right to ask her to risk her life any further. But Tasha needed help, and he knew he couldn’t give it to her alone. Susan held his gaze for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she gave him a grim smile.
“If we’re going to do this, we’d
better get moving,” she said.
“Thank you.” Jarrod turned to the others. “Good luck.”
“Same to you,” Pete said.
Shari and Tamara gave him farewell smiles, and then the three of them started making their way to one end of the alley, while Jarrod and Susan started toward the other.
* * * * *
The air was squeezed from Tasha’s lungs as she was yanked backward along with Grady, who was really Inez who was really the Mass. And when Grady hit the ground, the jolt was enough to render her temporarily unconscious. When she came to, she was looking up at a starlit night sky, the almost-full moon painting the world with soft silver light. At first she didn’t understand why the stars were moving. She knew they appeared to be in motion as the Earth revolved and rotated around the sun, but she couldn’t remember them ever moving so fast. Then she realized the stars weren’t moving. She was.
Adrenaline shot through her, instantly clearing her mind. She remembered everything about this batshit-crazy night, and the most insane thing about it so far – that the Mass had captured her and was planning to literally drag her out to sea. She chided herself for being foolish enough to attempt to probe the Mass’ mind using Grady as a conduit. It hadn’t occurred to her that the Mass would be able to sense what she was doing. All her life she’d thought of psychic powers as something belonging to the world of the future, a sign of advancing human evolution, and not as an ability that an ancient, supposedly primitive, being might possess. But it made sense. The Mass remained in constant contact with the minds of its Hunters, so when Tasha connected psychically with one of them, she was connecting to the Mass as well. And once the Mass had sensed her intrusion into its mind, it decided a closer look at her was in order. She considered resuming her mental probe of the Mass, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. If the Mass decided she was a threat, it would kill her. If she wanted to stay alive, she needed to remain an interesting – but ultimately harmless – curiosity.
