Faster than any of them could act, Kurst sprang. He leaped at the young warrior, his body changing as he quickly crossed the distance separating the two. Hair grew over his body, covering his skin with fur. He grew taller, wider. Claws extended from powerful fingers, and his nose elongated, becoming a tooth-filled snout. When his sharp claws struck the lizard man, slicing through scales and flesh, he had transformed completely into a demonic werewolf.
The young warrior fell, hitting the ground with a thud. Kurst stood over him, watching the light of life quickly fade from the warrior's eyes. Then he turned to the old lizard, holding the young warrior's still pumping heart in one clawed fist.
Impressed, the old one said, "Join us, honored hunter, in the attack we are about to engage in."
The werewolf nodded, then gulped down the beating heart before all the blood drained out.
90
Andrew Jackson Decker concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, willing his legs to walk. The seven marines with him were doing a little better, but it had been a long time since Decker had had to do a sustained march. He wished they could stop and rest, but he didn't want to show the soldiers that he wasn't up to the task at hand. He didn't even want to admit it to himself. Still, while he was in decent shape, his days of professional baseball and his own stint in the armed forces were far behind him.
"Congressman," Sergeant Lewis said, "with your permission, I'd like to call a five minute break."
"Is all this excerise starting to get to you, sergeant?" Decker huffed.
"No, sir," the sergeant replied. "We can keep going if you want to."
"That's all right, sergeant," Decker said quickly. "I think a short break is in order."
Decker collapsed on the side of the highway, trying not to let his fatigue show too much. He grabbed his canteen, unscrewed the top, and drank deeply. Lewis and the marines, he noted with some satisfaction, did likewise.
"You used to play ball, didn't you, sir?" the marine named Sanders asked.
"That was a long time ago, soldier. You and President Wells are probably the only people who remember that. I wasn't very good."
"Nonsense!" Sergeant Lewis said. "You were one of the most promising pitchers of your day. If memory serves, Ace Decker had a three point two ERA, a thirty-four and fourteen record, and three hundred and fifty-two strikeouts in two seasons. Then you left the game. Why, congressman?"
Decker returned his canteen to his belt strap. "You've done your homework, sergeant."
"I like to know who I'm serving with, sir."
"Commendable. So I might as well fill you in on the rest of the story. I went right from high school into Triple A ball, spent one season in the minors, then was called up to play in the major leagues. It was a dream come true for me, and I wanted to show everyone that I could do it. But after the first season, it started to seem
trivial to me. There had to be a better way to use my life. So I enlisted in the marines, finished college, and later entered political life."
"Don't you miss the cheers?" Sanders asked.
Before Decker could answer, a violent noise interrupted him. The congressman rose, turning to see what was crashing through the bushes beside the road. He saw movement, something large and fast, then it burst from the foliage. It was as long as a station wagon and twice as tall, running on all fours. It reminded Decker of a cat, but only its grace and speed were feline in nature. While it was sleek and sinewy, instead of fur it was covered in shiny black scales. Talons sprang from its four feet, and its head was reptilian. It had the teeth of a meat eater, and a mane of black fur fell from the top of its head to its powerful shoulders.
It smashed into Decker, hitting him with its leg. Had he remained sitting, its talons would have raked him as it passed. As it was, the scales along its leg sliced through his fatigues and ripped away skin from his chest and left arm. He fell hard, and the world went black.
Sergeant Lewis and his men leaped up at the same time Decker did. But Sanders and Dallas never had a chance. The huge beast — which Lewis took to be a cross between a crocodile and a lion — tore into the two men with its clawed paws.
Teagle and Burton swung their M-16s off their shoulders and leveled them at the creature. They pulled the triggers, expecting the familiar recoil and feeling of power associated with firing the weapons. But nothing happened. Like the vehicles they had to abandon, the weapons refused to function. The creature continued its frenzied attack, grasping Burton in its huge jaws. It fastened its teeth around his mid-section, and blood spurted as it bit into him. The soldier screamed.
Teagle went to his friend's aid, using his otherwise-useless rifle to batter the monster. Lewis heard the butt clang off of the creature's scaled hide. Then he watched in horror as Burton's body fell away, savagely bitten in half.
"Teagle, get away from that thing!" the sergeant ordered. But the creature was fast. It plowed into the soldier and landed on top of him. Then it began to feast.
Lewis looked around. Jones was beside him, staring in shock at the events that were happening so quickly. Miller, the last of his remaining men, was running back down the road in the direction they had come from. Before he could clear his head and issue orders, other creatures emerged from the brush. There were five lizard men, each carrying a spear, and a giant wolf that stood on two legs. The wolf exploded after Miller, running like a streak of fur and fangs. The lizard men stepped toward Lewis and Jones.
"Come on, Jones," the sergeant cajoled, "give me some help here."
"We're dead, sarge," Jones blubbered. "Oh God, look at what it did to Burton!"
Sergeant Lewis raised his weapon and fired. Nothing!
"I'll be damned if I'll just stand here and let them kill me!" Lewis shouted, running forward. He smashed the butt of his rifle into the skull of one of the lizard men. He smiled at the satisfying sound of shattering bone, and the lizard dropped.
One of the lizards roared something that almost sounded like speech, then it tossed its spear at Jones. The marine staggered back as the heavy shaft burst through his chest. "I'm sorry, sergeant," Jones said. Thorns sprouted along the shaft. Jones tried to say something else, but all that came out of his mouth was a fountain of red. Then he collapsed.
The sergeant swung his rifle like a club, and the remaining lizard men kept their distance. Five men killed in less than five minutes, Lewis counted. And they had only been able to take out one of the enemy. Not a good showing of ourselves, he decided, not for marines. He hoped Miller had escaped from that wolf.
That slim hope faded when Miller's scream sounded. My men, Lewis thought, they killed my men. Then he steeled himself, and leaped at the lizards. One more of the monsters fell under the sergeant's barrage of blows, then three spears pierced him at the same time, skewering him where he stood. At least, he thought as his vision faded, I took a few of them with me.
Decker opened his eyes and found himself looking at the sky. It was a dark, cloud-filled sky, but at least the rain had stopped falling. That seemed to be important to him, but he didn't know why. His body ached, and he could feel a warm, sticky wetness across his chest and arm. He decided that it would be best if he just stayed where he was. He wanted to rest. Maybe that would make the pain go away.
But the sky was behaving strangely. The clouds were spinning, twirling faster and faster. They were forming into a shape that Decker had seen a lot lately. It filled his dreams almost every night. Now it was hanging in the sky over his head. The blue stone with the red streaks imbedded inside it.
"What do you want from me?" Decker asked.
The stone hung silently before him.
Then the image shifted, becoming the face of a woman. He couldn't make out her features, but she had the most penetrating emerald eyes he had ever seen.
"I tried. Now it's over."
Then his old manager's voice rang in his ears. It isn't over til it's over, Ace. Get back in there and win the game for us!
Decker sighed. The
n he sat up. His rifle was beside him. He grasped it, clicked it to automatic, and slowly rose.
He didn't like what he saw.
Sanders, Dallas, Teagle, Burton, Jones, and Sergeant Lewis were all dead. He didn't see Miller, but something told him that he was dead, too. Three lizard men were standing over the marines' bodies, and the black cat-lizard was some feet away. Decker dropped back to the ground, trying to stay hidden until he had a better chance of taking them all out.
As he watched, a man walked into sight on the road. He was of average height, but of powerful build. He wore a denim jacket that looked to be a little big on him. Judging by that and the rest of his ill-fitting clothes, Decker took him to be a refugee. The cat-lizard perked its reptile head at the man's approach. Then it started toward him.
"You killed all of those marines, you bastards, but I won't let you kill anyone else!" Decker swore as he jumped up. He leveled his M-16, pointed it at the four-legged monster, and squeezed the trigger. Automatic fire exploded from the barrel, cutting through the monster's scales and ripping away its life. Then he swung around and mowed down the lizard men before they could bring their spears to bear.
"Are you all right?" Decker called to the man.
The man looked confused for a moment, and Decker couldn't blame him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Andrew Decker. I'm a congressman."
The man nodded, then smiled faintly, showing his teeth. When he spoke, Decker detected a definite British accent.
"My name is Kurst, Congressman Decker."
"Well, Mr. Kurst, let's bury these soldiers and get out of here before it gets too dark." Then Decker moved to do just that, not looking back to see if the man named Kurst was coming or not.
91
"How is he, Doctor Hachi?" Father Bryce asked.
Mara, her face clean of makeup, shook her head. "He's lost a lot of blood, but I've cleaned the wounds and bandaged them. He should be all right, as long as he doesn't move around too much. Those cuts will open up and start bleeding if he doesn't take it easy."
"I'll do my best, Doc," Alder said, grimacing with pain. "It's a good thing we're taking this nice relaxing vacation. It'll do me a world of good."
Bryce smiled. "Get some rest, Rick. Stay with him, Mara."
The young woman nodded.
It was getting dark. Bryce wasn't sure he wanted to face the night after meeting the ravagons, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. Even if the world were slowing down, day and night were still inevitable — at least as far as he knew. He stepped out of the van and looked it over from the outside. Much of the metal was ripped or missing. The windows were smashed. The rear door was gone. He stepped to the front of the vehicle, to where Tal Tu, Coyote, and Rat were working on the engine.
"Any luck?" the priest asked.
Coyote shrugged. "Maybe a few more miles, maybe not. It's an old van, Father, and it sure did take a beating today. I just don't know what to tell you. None of us are really very good at this."
Tal Tu, who had Cat rubbing against his leg, agreed. "I know what Rick Alder showed me, but that will not keep this machine going forever. We will have to find new transportation if we are to go much further."
Bryce spent a few more minutes with the trio, then went looking for Tolwyn. He was concerned about her reaction to the ravagons' attack. Unlike the others, she actually seemed to enjoy the combat. That scared him. He found her sitting in the dark, some distance away from the van. She was staring at a billboard across the highway, studying it with fierce intensity.
"We're looking for a few good men," he quoted from the sign. "The slogan of the United States Marines."
"Hello, Christopher," she said, not taking her eyes from the billboard. It showed a marine in dress uniform, holding a sword before him. She pointed at the sword. "I want one of those."
"Well let's see. Tal Tu and the boys want a new van. You want a sword. While I'm taking orders I might as well see what Rick and Mara want."
"There will be more of them coming," she said, his attempt at sarcasm going over her head. "We might not stop them next time."
Bryce sat beside her. They sat quietly for a time, letting the darkness build around them. Then Bryce spoke softly. "Some of your memories returned today, didn't they?"
"I remember a little more. Fighting the ravagons, my family's sword. But I still don't know why I am here, or why these creatures would be after me."
"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" he asked.
"Enjoyed what, Christopher?"
"The fighting, the rush of adrenalin, the blood, all of it."
She looked him straight in the eyes. "I was very good at warfare and combat, that much I remember. Today, the battle brought back memories and movements that were familiar, comfortable. Do I enjoy it? Yes, in a way. Something tells me that it is what I do best. Does that bother you?"
"Yes," he said, but did not press the issue. And neither did she.
Bryce looked up. Mara was approaching.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Mara said, "but dinner is ready. Rat cooked it."
"Mara, why did the ravagon call us stormers?" Tolwyn asked.
The young woman sighed. "You've noticed the storms all around us? When the raiders' reality sweeps across a world, it comes into conflict with the reality already in place. The two realities clash, and this battle is manifested by violent weather and other natural disturbances."
"Sort of like the world is fighting back, trying to defend itself?" Bryce asked.
"Exactly," Mara answered. "When the storms pass over and the raiders' reality takes hold, many of the features of the land — even the people — succumb to the new reality. They conform."
The priest remembered the savages he had encountered in New York, people who had given up thousands of years of civilization and reverted to cave-dwelling primitives.
"But there are those who don't conform," Mara continued. "These individuals retain their own reality after the storm has changed everything else. Hence the name, stormers."
"It fits," Bryce noted.
"Yes," said Tolwyn, "but I hate it. If it is what the evil ones call us, then it is no better than being called a peasant."
Bryce stood, stretching the kinks from his back and shoulders. "Come on, let's go try Rat's cooking."
"Aye," Tolwyn said, but she sat there in the dark, thinking, long into the night.
92
Under the same night sky, within fifty miles of where Tolwyn contemplated the events of the day, Andrew Decker and Kurst set up camp. Kurst had no supplies of his own, but Decker had salvaged as much as they could carry from the dead marines. Now they had a fire going, and food was cooking over the comfortable blaze.
Kurst studied the man while he worked with the food, never looking directly at him but taking in every detail nonetheless. Decker was tall and lean, and muscle played beneath his green outfit. It was the muscle of a civilized man, but muscle just the same. He was a stormer, of that there was no doubt. Kurst could smell it on him, the aroma as bright as the fire before him.
"Who are you, Mr. Kurst?" Decker asked finally. He had finished setting up his tent, had laid out two sleeping bags, and was now sitting beside the fire. He had a sword in his lap, its blade still sheathed within its fine leather scabbard.
"I am Kurst, a traveler far from home caught in a strange land."
"Do you have a first name, Mr. Kurst?"
"Just Kurst. That's all I have ever been called for as long as I can remember."
Decker fell silent for a time, examing the weapon he held. "Teagle had this in his pack," he said at last. "I have no idea why he brought his dress sabre with him, but I felt compelled to take it with me. Who knows? Maybe it will do some good if my rifle fails on me." He paused, running his finger tips across the polished brass scabbard frame. Then he asked, "What brought you to America, Kurst?"
The hunter looked up from the food after checking on its progress. He scanned Decker's eyes for some hint of distr
ust, but all he saw was honest, good-natured curiosity. "I'm looking for someone," he replied, deciding to be honest as well.
"Really? So am I, in a way." Decker poured himself a cup of coffee, then replaced the pot over the fire. "I'm actually looking for something else, an object, but more and more I'm sure that there are people involved in my quest. You may find this a little strange, come to think of it."
"After what I have seen these past few days, nothing will ever seem strange again," Kurst said, scooping food into his bowl.
"Good point. I've been having dreams lately, and in these dreams I see the object that I'm after. And then I see a woman. She has long brown hair and beautiful green eyes. I don't know what it means, but I have a feeling she's out here somewhere, looking for the same object I'm seeking."
Kurst choked on his food, spitting bits into the fire. Decker had described the woman named Tolwyn—the woman who was traveling with Thratchen's quarry. Never had he heard of stormers behaving in this manner!
Decker came around the fire and began banging Kurst on the back. "Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" There was actual concern in the man's voice, and that disturbed Kurst.
He wiped his mouth, shifting his gaze to meet Decker's. How far should he take his ploy, he wondered. All the way, he decided, all the way.
"I am fine, Mr. Decker. It is just that you have described the person that I am seeking as well."
"What? How can that be?"
Kurst simply shrugged. "Perhaps, together, we will find this out."
Yes, Kurst thought. If this stormer is following the others, then it should be a simple task to let him lead me to them. If I can gain his trust. Then I will have them all in the same place, and my job will prove to be that much easier.
They talked until the fire dimmed and the coffee grew cold.
93
Bryce and Mara sat outside the van. The others were asleep inside, and Tolwyn was still off by herself. So the priest and the young scientist from another reality talked quietly.
"It must have taken a lot of courage to leave your world to come here," Bryce said.
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