Cain

by James Byron Huggins

He was stumbling and had a ragged cut on his face, but he was alive. Nor was there time for an explanation. He had obviously hit the water when he was hurled from the low-flying chopper.

  "Status!" Soloman shouted. "Have you got a visual?"

  Malo shook his head sharply. "I took a shot at him when he was coming up the path. Flattened his ass with the H and H and then he vanished! We ain't got anything on heat sensors and the motion detectors are flat!"

  "Are the Apaches en route?"

  "Three minutes out!"

  "Then we've got to hold him off for three minutes!" Soloman grimaced, feeling the sharp pain of a bruised rib. He ripped out the spent canister in the M-79 and inserted another. "Tell the guys on the roof to look sharp! Cain'll probably go high to work his way down!"

  Mother Superior Mary Francis rushed up, black habit trailing behind her. Quickly she knelt beside Maggie and Amy, tending to their wounds. Maggie had a large cut on her hand, a wound from a jagged stump, but Amy was unhurt.

  "Take care of Amy." Maggie pushed the child into the nun's arms with fading strength. "Hide her in here somewhere!" she whispered. "Hide her quickly, Sister! Quickly!"

  Marcelle returned, sweat glistening on his face. "The entrances are locked but the portals may not be strong enough to withstand his assault! I will go and monitor the back!"

  "Good enough!" Soloman stood. "That's the only other—"

  The radio at Malo's waist erupted with a frantic voice, then several voices tumbled over each other until one dominated: "Lieutenant! We've got big-time movement all over the south side!"

  Malo raised the radio. "Calm down, Bravo. Is it high or low? Can you localize it?"

  "I ... I can't tell! It ... it seems like it's all over the south side of thebuilding! He's moving fast! He's trying to find a way in! I've never seen anything like it! It's all over the place! I can't tell if he's high or low! I think he might be on the roof somewhere! Somewhere really close! I can't tell! I can't tell! It's impossible to—"

  A sharp crack, then static.

  Silence.

  Scowling, Malo glared at the A-unit. "Repeat!"

  Echoing ...

  "Bravo! Repeat!"

  "No!" Soloman snarled, lifting an MP-5 laid to the side. He slammed in a fifty-round clip. "Cain got him."

  "I'm going on the roof!" Malo moved for the stairway and Soloman whirled, slamming the big Delta lieutenant against a wall. "Whoever was on the roof is dead, Malo!"

  Malo's teeth gritted as he shoved Soloman back. "I've got six men up there, Colonel! Six men!"

  Soloman slammed him back. "They’re dead, Malo! Right now we have to get ready because Cain is coming down!"

  They stood face-to-face and after a moment—a grim and solemn moment—Malo slowly nodded. He bowed his head with a frown and Soloman released him to glare at Maggie: "Do you want a gun?"

  She stood strongly, blood dripping from a crude bandage on her hand. "Give me what you've got."

  He tossed her the MP-5 and she caught it from the air, gazing at the weapon before asking without breath, "Just point and pull the trigger, right?"

  "Yeah."

  Soloman jerked open a duffle bag and removed extra clips for the Desert Eagle. He lashed four antipersonnel grenades to his vest. "Just pull the trigger and hold it. Expect it to recoil, so hold down on the barrel about six inches beneath his chest. You'll hit him dead-center. You've only got fifty rounds so don't shoot until he's on top of you."

  He tried to analyze the situation but decided almost immediately that there weren't many advantages. The room was large and empty except for pews, pro-viding little solid cover for a firefight and no place to make a solid stand. Plus, he was convinced that staying inside this place was death, so they had to get safely outside and lure Cain into the open so that the Apaches could target on him with cannons.

  Sister Mary Francis had taken Amy downstairs, hiding her as best she could. But Soloman knew there was no future in that, either. If Cain wanted to find them, he would find them. He would tear this place apart brick by brick if he had to because nothing on this planet was strong enough to stop him.

  With his mind moving at computer speed Soloman knew there was no way to make a stand in this place.

  No, he had to change the game – create a new situation!

  Change the game. Create a new situation.

  Soloman sensed that he had to— He whirled with a curse as the fifty-year-old elevator was engaged, coming down from the roof. As one, they stared, everyone too shocked to speak. Malo cast a narrow glance as Soloman slowly drew the Desert Eagle, holding the M-79 in his other hand. Amazed at the boldness, the fearlessness of the approach, Soloman motioned for Maggie to aim at the elevator door.

  Grindingly slow, coming down with a roar, the elevator descended.

  They backed up.

  Raising weapons.

  ***

  Sister Mary Francis dropped Amy as gently as possible in a closet and bent close, staring fiercely. Her old hands gripped the six-year-old's shoulders, strong and encouraging.

  "Be silent!" she whispered. "I will be close!" She stared to make sure Amy heard. "Do you understand what I'm saying, child? Don't make a sound! Don't make a sound no matter what you hear!"

  Amy nodded with fright, straining to catch her breath. She placed both hands against the close wooden walls as if she were already alone in the darkness. Then Sister Mary Francis reached out and touched her face, fearlessly protective. "You'll live, child! Just do what I say! Wait here and I'll be back for you! And make no sound! No sound at all! No matter what you hear! Do you understand!"

  Amy nodded.

  Hesitating, face twisting in pain, Sister Mary Francis swiftly grasped the crucifix on her cloak, removing the red and black rosary beads. She wasted a single second to wrap them about Amy's neck, then with a blessing rose and closed the door.

  Was gone.

  ***

  As the elevator stopped, Malo angrily racked a rocket-propelled grenade into the chute of the M-203. His finger tightened on the trigger as they stood in place, staring and trembling.

  Nothing.

  The door didn't open.

  Stillness.

  "I don't like this," Malo whispered. "That door is supposed to open automatically. If it's not, that means ..." He shook his head, cursing in anger and fear. "We need to find the kid and get the hell out of here, Colonel. Let the Apaches center on him."

  "Steady, Malo." Soloman took a light step to the side. "I don't want that RPG going off in here unless we're about to die. It could kill all of us. And we can't go outside yet because we don't know for sure that he's in there. He could be waiting outside the door."

  Soloman saw that the barrel of Maggie's machine gun steadied with uncommon control on the elevator door. She was frowning, her green eyes staring murderously. He reached out to touch her arm. "Be cool, Maggie. Don't start shooting until I say so."

  "What are you going to do?"

  He edged farther to the side, out of the line of fire just in case they opened up. Silently he holstered the Desert Eagle, leaving his right hand free. But he held the M-79 tight.

  "Get ready to fire on acquisition," he whispered as he reached the side of the elevator. Gently, his body flat against the wall he stretched out and punched the button.

  The doors opened.

  He saw Malo and Maggie flinch at the same split-second, weapons waving on the shaft. But they didn't fire and Soloman knew they saw nothing. So, moving with extreme caution, he edged an eye around the corner, searching the empty lift. Then he glanced up at the ceiling, saw that it was crisscrossed with thin steel beams that resembled rafters. There was also a wide, old-style trapdoor. It was unlatched and easily accessible, but closed.

  Heart beating breathlessly, he studied the trapdoor, listening. He detected nothing, but he knew Cain could be lying up there. And with that thought his finger tightened on the trigger of the M-79, knowing the devastating buckshot round would disorient the giant, if only for
a moment.

  A long time he stood, finally shaking his head to throw off drops of sweat. His eyes burned and he tilted his head to listen closer, knowing somehow that he wasn't as deceived as he feared. Cain was close, he knew, too close, waiting for an opportunity to— The sound was so faint Soloman thought it had been a single rustle of his shirt. But he froze in place, utterly still, listening over the pounding of blood in his ears. He tried to control his heartbeat and knew instantly that he couldn't and then he understood ... what it was ...

  No ... Not the ceiling.

  Moving only his eyes, Soloman peered cautiously at the paneled floor, knowing instinctively as the hairs rose along his arms. Casually, so as not to precipitate an attack, he lowered the aim of the M-79, retreating slowly ...

  Have to get outside ...

  As he stepped back carefully, he heard what seemed to be the faintest scratching sound that was almost no sound at all … tracking, tracking, finding a point of aim if he had to— "Soloman!"

  He whirled as Maggie screamed.

  The doors shut behind him.

  Malo screamed as he leaped forward to hit the doors like a freight train. When he bounced back, the steel doors were bent.

  He staggered at the collision, livid and raising the M-203, not knowing what to do as Maggie frantically pounded the button and they heard the explosion of sundered panels.

  Then a demonic, hideous howl of triumph erupted on the other side and they heard Soloman roar against it in rage as a savage face-to-face fight began within the doors.

  ***

  Soloman had moved without thought, instinct and speed saving him by the |faintest, flashing space as the floor shattered and Cain rose up, explosively hurling off a jagged section of steel.

  With ferocious strength and determination Soloman gained a rafter, leaping high to grab a steel beam with his free hand. He roared with the effort as he twisted and fired the M-79 point-blank into the horrific bestial countenance – a face ravaged by burns and yet the animal eyes blazing in fiendish triumph over monstrous fangs.

  As the taloned hands reached up, Soloman's buckshot blast exploded down and out, devastating in the close confines of the elevator, and Cain took the full force of the blow. Then Soloman could hear nothing but the clash of defiant roars and ricocheting rounds.

  Cain had been slammed viciously to his back, twisted by the blast as blood littered the walls, everything red and roaring in the smoke-filled aftermath of the detonation. Then Soloman swung forward to kick up hard, slamming the trapdoor open, and he was scrambling, trying to clear the elevator before Cain regained his footing.

  As Soloman threw himself wildly through the trap door, Cain lashed out, a titanic fist missing to strike a steel beam, and then Soloman was on top of the lift, safe for a split-second. Moving quick, frantic and desperate, he spun in every direction to find an avenue of escape.

  Nothing!

  Cain's monstrous head came up through the door and Soloman leaped aside, fumbling for another buckshot round as the monstrosity lashed out, striking him hard behind the shins to take him down.

  The M-79 flew wildly into the shaft.

  Spinning, Soloman lashed out a kick with murderous force, slamming Cain's head against a beam. And, incredibly, Cain seemed to feel the stunning impact, snarling in rage as he reached out to snatch Soloman by his ballistic vest.

  Shouting in panic, Soloman spun and tore the Velcro straps, freeing himself as one of Cain's mammoth shoulders passed through the trapdoor, climbing to finish the kill.

  Seconds ...

  Soloman's mind raced.

  SECONDS!

  With a vengeful laugh Cain flung the vest aside and Soloman heard the grenades strike the wall. Then he saw his only chance and with it he leaped to twist, narrowly evading razor-sharp claws to snatch the vest. But as he touched the vest Soloman pulled a pin, slipping to evade a blow from Cain that splintered the top of the elevator like a sledgehammer.

  Six seconds to detonation!

  Soloman suicidally threw himself again past the monstrous reach, black claws slashing his leg as he fast-drew the Desert Eagle, grasping the elevator cable with his free hand. He slammed the barrel against the point where the cord tied into the lift and turned, wasting one second to glare down.

  Four seconds . . .

  Cain saw and understood.

  He roared in rage.

  "Survive this!" Soloman gasped.

  Three ...

  With a bellow of defeat Cain dropped from the trapdoor and Soloman heard another massive crash below but he was out of time as he fired the Eagle into the cord.

  Two ...

  Instantly the cable was severed and the elevator fell away. Only with the faintest strength did Soloman hold the splintered cord as he was lifted up the shaft by the counterweight.

  He cast a wild glance as the elevator fell to the basement where it crashed hard, detonating in a series of deafening eruptions. A heated holocaust pursued Soloman as he rose on the cable, vengeful flame pursuing him up the shaft with volcanic wrath.

  ***

  Malo sensed it.

  Instincts honed by a thousand battles told him to move and he did, not understanding but knowing it would save their lives as he hurled himself hard into Maggie, taking her away from the door.

  Then in an explosive concussion of superhuman power the panels were struck and blasted from the seams, hurled outward before the irresistible force of a locomotive that bent the steel in half. Hurling the shredded doors aside, Cain dove across the floor, roaring as the elevator itself plummeted into the shaft.

  One second later the building was rocked to its foundation as a series of explosions solidified the air, dust and flame roiling. And as the mushrooming fire roiled across the basilica, burying them in a halo of smoke and flame, Malo reached his feet, understanding that Cain was among them, close, and that he had to get a shot off quick. He twisted violently as he rose to a knee, lifting the M-203 to fire point blank at Cain before— Gone!

  Malo choked on smoke, searching, too involved to worry about Maggie, who hadn't moved since he'd slammed her to the floor. He dropped low, holding the rifle close, his heart on fire. Taking a hard leap to the side, he slammed his back against the wall, glaring, bending, trying to peer through the smoke that rolled from the open door.

  "Where is he?" he heard himself whispering. "Come on ... Come on ... Find him ... Find him ... You've got to find him ... He's here ..."

  Clouds of debris and heavy smoke, poisonous and burning, filled the air so completely that Malo could see nothing. He fell to a knee, squinting against it, simultaneously reaching to his back to remove a gas mask. Dropping his rifle for a split-second he put on the mask and focused again, finding himself engulfed in blackness. Then he sensed something moving beside him, spun for target acquisition, and heard— Maggie ...

  She staggered to her feet, holding her head, shocked and stunned. Her hand was coated in blood and Malo took a second to reach out and steady her. She leaned heavily on him.

  "It's all right, Maggie," he whispered. "We'll find the—"

  Her expression turned to horror.

  Malo whirled and fired as he was hit, a thunderbolt tearing through his chest to wet openness, blasting apart something that sent numbness to his spine, flooding weakness through his arms and legs.

  Grimacing, unable to breathe, knowing he was near death, Malo roared with pain as he was lifted cleanly from the ground. Then with a last rush of strength he bowed his bearded head to behold Cain's horrific fanged face only inches from his, a smile of victory.

  The blood-red eyes glared.

  Hating.

  Laughing.

  No breath.

  Malo spat inside the mask.

  Cain howled bestially as he tore his arm free, hurling something red and bloody into the blackened air, and Malo knew a last darkness as he fell hard to the ground.

  *

  CHAPTER 19

  Amy was screaming as thunder roared over her
before the door was snatched open and Sister Mary Francis was there, bending quickly to lift her from the floor. The old woman held her tightly in strong arms as she moved through a smoke-filled corridor, finding a way through the spiraling fumes of black.

  Amy cried out at the fire and smoke.

  "Hush, child!" the nun said sternly, closing a hand around the back of Amy's head to cradle her. "God alone will decide this battle! And we have Him on our side!"

  She turned and moved up a stone archway, and Amy managed to silence her screams, holding tight. Then she felt the crucifix pressed hard against her chest, her tears absorbed by the black cloak.

  "God will provide a way," Sister Mary Francis whispered, moving quickly. "This fiend will not get you! Not while I live!"

  She moved into the interior of the basilica, flaring with isolated fires. Pews were scattered haphazardly and a terrific red light shone from the elevator shaft to cast a chaotic, unearthly atmosphere. Turning carefully, Sister Mary Francis peered, then froze and bent even further as she seemed to see something.

  "Aha!" she shouted and spun, running instantly, and Amy heard the horrific voice behind them.

  "WITCH! She belongs to me!"

  The nun threw open another door and fled quickly down a hall that seemed less well kept than the rest but also held less of the choking smoke that filled the basilica. As she reached the end of the hallway she mounted a short flight of steps, not casting another glance over her shoulder to see if they were being pursued.

  But as they reached the third step Amy raised her face to see the man, the man, coming for them, his monstrous hands clutching and un-clutching, his face a mask of horrible glee that caused her to scream yet again. He laughed as he caught her eye and Amy lost whatever control she'd held in the quiet darkness of the closet before— The next movement came from nowhere as a black shape leaped from behind a doorway, swinging a wooden beam that descended hard over the back of the man's head.

  Father Marcelle!

  "Sister!" Amy cried to Mary Francis as Cain staggered forward a pace, finally regaining balance to whirl back into Marcelle. And at the shout Sister Mary Francis spun on the steps, bending to watch the confrontation.