The Complete Adversary Cycle: The Keep, the Tomb, the Touch, Reborn, Reprisal, Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack)

by F. Paul Wilson

  Kusum started to pull her back toward him. As he went to return his grip from her arm to her throat, Vicky moved— without warning she cried out and lunged away from him. Kusum snatched for her but she had fear and desperation as allies. Five frantic steps, a flying leap, and she crashed against Jack’s chest, clutching at him, screaming:

  “Don’t let him get me, Jack! Don’t let him! Don’t let him!”

  Got her!

  Jack’s vision blurred and his voice became lost in the surge of emotion that filled him as he held Vicky’s trembling little body against him. He couldn’t think—so he reacted. In a single move he raised the discharge tube with his right hand and swung his left arm around behind Vicky to grasp the forward grip, holding her to him while he steadied the tube. He pointed it directly at Kusum.

  “Give her back!” Kusum shouted, rushing to the edge of the platform. His sudden movement and raised voice caused the rakoshi to shift, murmur, and edge forward. “She’s mine!”

  “No way,” Jack said softly, finding his voice again as he squeezed Vicky closer. “You’re safe, Vicks.”

  He had her now and no one was going to take her away. No one. He began to back toward the forward hold.

  “Stay where you are!” Kusum roared. Spittle flecked his lips—he was so enraged he was actually beginning to foam at the mouth. “One more step and I’ll tell them where you are. As I said before, they’ll tear you to pieces. Now—come up here and face me as we agreed.”

  Jack shook his head. “I had nothing to lose then. Now I’ve got Vicky.” Agreement or not, he was not going to let her go.

  “Have you no honor? You agreed!”

  “I lied,” Jack said, and pulled the trigger.

  The stream of napalm hit Kusum squarely in the chest, spreading over him, engulfing him in flame. He released a long, high, hoarse scream and reached his arm out toward Jack and Vicky as his fiery body went rigid. Twisting, writhing convulsively, his features masked in flame, he stumbled forward off the platform, still reaching for them, his obsession with ending the Westphalen line driving him on even in the midst of his death agony. Jack held Vicky’s face into his shoulder so she would not see, and was about to give Kusum another blast when he veered off to the side, spinning and whirling in a flaming dance, finally falling dead in front of his rakoshi horde, burning… burning…

  The rakoshi went mad.

  If Jack had looked upon the hold as a suburb of hell before, it became one of the inner circles upon the death of the Kaka-ji. The rakoshi exploded into frenzied movement, leaping into the air, clawing, tearing at each other. They could not find Jack and Vicky, so they turned on each other. It was as if all of hell’s demons had decided to riot. All except one—

  The rakosh with the scarred lip remained aloof from the carnage. It stared in their direction as if sensing their presence there, even though it could not see them.

  As the struggles of the creatures brought groups of them near, Jack began retreating down the passageway through which he had come, back to the forward hold. A trio of rakoshi, locked in combat, black blood gushing from their wounds, blundered into the passage. Jack sprayed them with the flamethrower, sending them reeling away, then turned and ran.

  Before entering the forward hold, he directed a tight stream of flaming napalm ahead of him—first high to drive away any rakoshi that might be lurking outside the end of the passage, then low along the floor to clear the small ones from his path. Putting his head down he charged through the hold along the flaming strip, feeling like a jet cruising along an illuminated runway. At its end he leaped up on the platform and stabbed the UP button.

  As the elevator began to rise, Jack tried to put Vicky down on the planking but she wouldn’t let go. Her hands were locked onto the fabric of his shirt in a death grip. He was weak and exhausted, but he would carry her the rest of the way if that was what she needed. With his free hand he reached into the crate and armed and set the rest of the bombs for three forty-five—less than twenty minutes away.

  Rakoshi began to pour into the forward hold through both the port and starboard entries. When they saw the platform rising, they charged it.

  “They’re coming for me, Jack!” Vicky screamed. “Don’t let them get me!”

  “Everything’s okay, Vicks,” he said as soothingly as he could.

  He sent out a fiery stream that caught a dozen of the creatures in the front rank, and kept the rest of them at bay with well-placed bursts of flame.

  When the elevator platform was finally out of range of a rakosh leap, Jack allowed himself to relax. He dropped to his knees and waited for the platform to reach the top.

  Suddenly a rakosh broke free from the crowd and hurtled forward. Startled, Jack rose up and pointed the discharge tube in its direction.

  “That’s the one that brought me here!” Vicky cried.

  Jack recognized the rakosh: It was Scar-lip, making a last-ditch effort to get at Vicky. Jack’s finger tightened on the trigger, then he saw that it was going to fall short. Its talons narrowly missed the platform but must have caught onto the undercarriage, for the elevator lurched and screeched on its tracks, then continued to rise. Jack didn’t know if the rakosh was clinging to the undercarriage or whether it had fallen off into the elevator well below. He wasn’t about to peer over the edge to find out—he might lose his face if the rakosh was hanging there.

  He carried Vicky to the rear corner of the platform and waited there with the discharge tube trained on the edge of the platform. If the rakosh showed its face he’d burn its head off.

  But it didn’t appear. And when the elevator stopped at the top of its track, Jack pulled Vicky’s hands free to allow her to go up the ladder ahead of him. As they separated, something fell out of the folds of her damp nightgown—Kusum’s necklace.

  “Here, Vicks,” he said, reaching to clasp it around her neck. “Wear this. It’ll—”

  “No!” she cried in a shrill voice, pushing his hands away. “I don’t like it.”

  “Please, Vicks. Look—I’m wearing one.”

  “No!”

  She started up the ladder. Jack stuffed the necklace into his pocket and watched her go, continually glancing toward the edge of the platform. The poor kid was frightened of everything now—almost as frightened of the necklace as she was of the rakoshi. He wondered if she’d ever get over this.

  Jack waited until Vicky had climbed through the little entry hatch, then he followed, keeping his eyes on the edge of the platform until he reached the top of the ladder. Quickly, almost frantically, he squeezed through into the salty night air.

  Vicky grabbed his hand. “Where do we go now, Jack? I can’t swim!”

  “You don’t have to, Vicks,” he whispered. Why am I whispering? “I brought us a boat!”

  He led her by the hand along the starboard gunwale to the gangway. When she saw the rubber raft below, she needed no further guidance—she let go of his hand and hurried down the steps. Jack glanced back over the deck and froze. He had caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye—a shadow had moved near the kingpost standing between the two holds. Or had it? His nerves were frayed to the breaking point. He was ready to see a rakosh in every shadow.

  He followed Vicky down the steps. When he reached bottom, he turned and sprayed the gangway with flame from the halfway point to the top, then arced the stream over the gunwale onto the deck. He kept the flame flowing, swinging it back and forth until the discharge tube coughed and jerked in his hands. The flamed sputtered and died. The napalm tank was empty. Only carbon dioxide hissed through the tube. He finished loosening the harness, a job he had begun in the aft hold, and shrugged off the tanks and their appendages, dropping them on the last step of the burning gangway. Better to let it go up with the ship than be found floating in the bay. Then he untied the nylon hawser and pushed off.

  Made it!

  A wonderful feeling—he and Vicky were alive and off the freighter. And only moments ago he had been ready to g
ive up hope. But they weren’t safe yet. They had to be far from the ship, preferably on shore, when those bombs went off.

  The oars were still in their locks. Jack grabbed them and began to row, watching the freighter recede into the dark. Manhattan was behind him, drawing nearer with every stroke. Gia and Abe would not be visible for a while yet. Vicky crouched in the stern of the raft, her head swiveling between the freighter and land. It was going to be so good to reunite her with Gia.

  Jack rowed harder. The effort caused him pain, but surprisingly little. He should have been in agony from the deep wound behind his left shoulder, from the innumerable lacerations all over his body, and from the avulsions where the skin had simply been torn away by the teeth of the savage little rakoshi. He felt weak from fatigue and blood loss, but he should have lost more—he should have been in near shock from the blood he had lost. The necklace truly seemed to have healing powers.

  But could it really keep you young? And let you grow old if it was removed? That could be why Kolabati had refused to lend it to him when they were trapped in the pilot’s cabin earlier tonight. Was it possible that Kolabati was slowly turning into an old hag back in his apartment right now? He remembered how Ron Daniels, the mugger, had sworn he hadn’t rolled an old lady the night before. Perhaps that explained much of Kolabati’s passion for him: It wasn’t her grandmother’s necklace he had returned—it was Kolabati’s! It seemed too incredible to believe… but he’d said that before.

  They were halfway to shore. He took a hand off an oar to reach up and touch the necklace. It might not be a bad thing to keep around. You never knew when you might—There was a splash over by the freighter.

  “What was that?” Jack asked Vicky. “Did you see anything?”

  He could see her shake her head in the darkness. “Maybe it was a fish.”

  “Maybe.” Jack didn’t know of any fish in Upper New York Bay big enough to make a splash like that. Maybe the flamethrower had fallen off the gangway. That would explain the splash nicely. But try as he might, Jack could not entirely buy that.

  A cold clump of dread sprang up between his shoulders and began to spread. He rowed even harder.

  33

  Gia couldn’t keep her hands still. They seemed to move of their own accord, clasping together and unclasping, clenching and unclenching, running over her face, hugging her, climbing in and out of her pockets. She was certain she would go stark raving mad if something didn’t happen soon. Jack had been gone forever. How long did they expect her to stand around and do nothing while Vicky was missing?

  She had worn a path in the sand along the bulkhead from pacing up and down; now she just stood and stared out at the freighter. It had been a shadow all along, but a few moments ago it had begun to burn—or at least part of it had. A line of flame had zig-zagged along the hull from the deck level almost down to the water. Abe had said it looked like Jack’s flamethrower at work but he didn’t know what he was up to. Through the binoculars it looked like a burning gangway and the best he could guess was that Jack was in effect burning a bridge behind him.

  And so she waited, more anxious than ever, waiting to see if Jack was bringing back her Vicky. Suddenly she saw it—a spot of yellow on the surface, the rhythmic glint of oars moving in and out of the water.

  “Jack!” she called, knowing her voice probably wouldn’t carry the distance but unable to contain herself any longer. “Did you find her?”

  And then it came, that dear squeaky little voice she loved so:

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Joy and relief exploded within her. She burst into tears and stepped to the edge of the bulkhead, ready to leap in. But Abe grabbed her.

  “You’ll only slow them up,” he said, pulling her back. “He’s got her and he’ll get her here faster if you stay where you are.”

  Gia could barely control herself. Hearing Vicky’s voice was not enough. She had to hold her little girl and touch her and hug her before she could truly believe she had her back. But Abe was right—she had to wait where she was.

  Movement of Abe’s arm across his face drew her attention away from the water for an instant. He was wiping tears away. Gia threw an arm around his waist and hugged him.

  “Just the wind,” he said, sniffing. “My eyes have always been sensitive to it.”

  Gia nodded and returned her attention to the water. It was as smooth as glass. Not the slightest breeze. The raft was making good speed.

  Hurry, Jack… I want my Vicky back!

  In moments the raft was close enough for her to see Vicky crouched on the far side of Jack, smiling, waving over his shoulder as he rowed, and then the raft was nosing against the bulkhead and Jack was handing Vicky up to her.

  Gia clasped Vicky against her. She was real! Yes, it was Vicky, truly Vicky! Euphoric with relief, she spun her around and around, kissing her, squeezing, promising never to let her go ever again.

  “I can’t breathe, Mommy!”

  Gia loosened her grip a fraction, but could not let go. Not yet.

  Vicky started blabbering in her ear. “A monster stole me from the bedroom, Mom! It jumped in the river with me and… “

  Vicky’s words faded away. A monster… then Jack wasn’t crazy. She looked over to where he stood on the bulkhead next to Abe, smiling at her and Vicky when he wasn’t glancing over his shoulder at the water. He looked awful—torn clothes, blood all over him. But he looked proud, too.

  “I’ll never forget this, Jack,” she said, her heart ready to burst with gratitude.

  “I didn’t do it just for you,” he replied, and glanced back at the water again. What was he looking for? “You’re not the only one who loves her, you know.”

  “I know.”

  He seemed ill at ease. He glanced at his watch.

  “Let’s get out of here, okay? I don’t want to be caught standing around when that ship goes up. I want to be in the truck and ready to roll.”

  “Goes up?” Gia didn’t understand.

  “Kabloom! I placed a dozen incendiary bombs throughout the ship—set to go in about five minutes. Take Vicks up to the truck and we’ll be right there.” He and Abe started pulling the raft out of the water.

  Gia was opening the door to the panel truck when she heard a loud splash and shouting behind her. She glanced up over the hood and froze in horror at the sight of a dark, dripping, glistening form rising out of the bay. It leaped up on the bulkhead, knocking into Jack and sending him sprawling head first into the sand—it was as if it hadn’t even known Jack was there. She heard Abe shout “Good lord!” as he lifted the raft and shoved it at the creature, but a single swipe of its talons ripped it open. The raft deflated with a whoosh, leaving Abe holding forty pounds of yellow vinyl.

  It was one of those rakoshi Jack had told them about. It had to be—there could be no other explanation.

  Vicky screamed and buried her face in Gia’s neck. “That’s the monster that took me, Mommy! Don’t let it get me!”

  The thing was moving toward Abe, towering over him. Abe hurled what was left of the raft at it and backed away. Seemingly from nowhere, a pistol appeared in his hand and he began firing, the noise from the pistol sounding more like pops than shots. Abe fired six times at point blank range, backpedaling all the time. He might as well have been firing blanks for all the notice the thing took of the bullets. Gia gasped as she saw Abe’s foot catch on the edge of the bulkhead. He flung out his arms, waving them for balance, looking like an overfed goose trying to fly, and then he fell into the water, disappearing from sight.

  The rakosh lost interest in him immediately and turned toward Gia and Vicky. With uncanny accuracy, its eyes focused on them. It rushed forward.

  “It’s coming for me again, Mommy!”

  Behind the rakosh, Gia had an instant’s view of Jack rolling over and pushing himself to his knees. He was shaking his head and looking around as if unsure of where he was. Then she pushed Vicky into the cab of the truck and climbed in after her. She crawled
over to the driver’s seat and started the engine, but before she could put it into gear, the rakosh reached the truck.

  Gia’s screams joined Vicky’s as it drove its talons through the metal of the hood and pulled itself up in front of the windshield. In pure desperation she threw the truck into reverse and floored the accelerator. Amid plumes of flying sand, the truck lurched backward, nearly dislodging the rakosh…

  … but not quite. It regained its balance and smashed one of its hands through the windshield, reaching for Vicky through the cascade of bright fragments. Gia lunged to her right to cover Vicky’s body with her own. The truck stalled and lurched to a stop. She waited for the talons to tear into her back, but the pain never came. Instead she heard a sound, a cry that was human and yet unlike any sound she had ever heard or wanted to hear from a human throat.

  She looked up. The rakosh was still on the hood of the truck, but it was no longer reaching for Vicky. It had withdrawn its hand from the cab and was now trying to dislodge the apparition that clung to its back.

  It was Jack. And it was from his wide open mouth that that sound originated. She caught a glimpse of his face above and behind the rakosh’s head—so distorted by fury as to verge on the maniacal. She could see the cords standing out in his neck as he reached around the rakosh and clawed at its eyes. The creature twisted back and forth but could not dislodge Jack. Finally it reached back and tore him free, blindly slashing at his chest as it hurled him out of her field of vision.

  “Jack!” Gia cried, feeling his pain, realizing that in a few heartbeats she would know it herself, first hand. There was no hope, no way of stopping this thing.

  But maybe she could outrun it. She twisted the door handle and crawled out, pulling Vicky after her. The rakosh saw her and climbed up on the roof of the truck. With Vicky clinging to her, Gia began to run, her shoes slipping, dragging, filling with sand. She glanced over her shoulder as she kicked them off and saw the rakosh crouch to leap at her.

  And then night turned to day.