The Strike Trilogy

by Charlie Wood

  Tobin fell to the ground. His mind and body were completely drained—he felt nothing except a dense, numbing tingling in his hands and fingers. Hearing a police siren outside, he slowly crawled to a window and pulled himself up to it. Through the glass, he saw that three police cars were speeding across the Chapman Bridge, and the rain was falling harder than ever. A faint ringing entered Tobin’s ears, and his eyesight began to go blurry, fading away.

  Pushing off the ground with his numb hands, Tobin stood up on his shaking legs and stumbled across the room. He was weak and unbalanced; the store around him was nothing but a swirling mess of red-and-blue lights from the police cars outside. When the boy finally reached Susan’s body, he lifted her up and placed her on a couch against the wall, away from the window.

  There was a mirror above the couch. Tobin looked up at his reflection in it, but the face he saw was not his own: it was drawn and pale, and its milky white eyes were staring back at him lifelessly. Red-and-blue lights were dancing around the face like fireflies.

  This was the last thing Tobin saw before everything went black.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The morning after the thunderstorm in Bridgton, Vincent Harris was standing in the security center of his skyscraper, watching a news broadcast on a large monitor. Onscreen, a young female news reporter was outside of Jackson’s Bookstore, while police were investigating the area behind her. Yellow crime-scene tape crisscrossed the broken picture window.

  “Police were unable to apprehend the three suspects as they fled into the surrounding streets,” the reporter explained, “and upon entering the building, they found no items or cash missing from the register. One of the officers reported seeing a bright red flash as he was approaching the store, but saw no other signs of anyone inside when he—”

  Vincent turned the security monitor off. After standing in front of it for a moment, tapping the remote controller against his chin, he left the room and stomped down the hall. When he reached his office, he passed by his bodyguard.

  “Rigel. Here.”

  Rigel followed Vincent into the office and closed the door.

  “Orion has gotten involved,” Vincent said, walking to his desk. “This will cause a delay in our plans, to say the least.”

  “Allow me to take care of it, sir,” Rigel said. “I will have no trouble finding Orion, and when I do, I will take care of him and the boy. Leave it entirely up to me.”

  “No,” Vincent said. “You’re much too important—I need you here with us.” He looked out at the city below him, through the massive, floor-to-ceiling window that made up the wall behind his desk. “I had thought that Jonathan was more than capable of handling this part of the plan on his own, but obviously I was wrong. Where are he and his two friends now?”

  “They came here immediately after abandoning the plan, sir. They were not followed.”

  “Good. And what did we do with them?”

  “I placed them under arrest. They’re waiting for you there now.”

  “Good.” Vincent turned around and mindlessly flipped through a file on his desk. “It’s too bad Jonathan never really committed like you did. I had high hopes for him. But, I guess everybody is wrong sometimes. Even us.”

  Rigel chuckled. “What would you like to do now, sir?”

  “Well, let’s send out the air division. If they aren’t able to get the job done, at least make sure that they can track Orion and report back to me. We still have plenty of time, but we can’t allow them to slip away any further.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rigel said, before turning and exiting the office, eager to carry out his orders.

  Sitting behind his desk, Vincent looked down at the files scattered in front of him. One of the files contained various blueprints and documents, along with a photograph of Tobin.

  With his finger, Vincent slid the photograph of Tobin away, moving it across the desk. Underneath Tobin’s photo, there was another photo—this one was of Orion, wearing his long, red coat.

  Vincent studied the two photographs.

  With his eyes closed peacefully, Tobin was lying in a quiet, grassy field, asleep. It was beautiful, with the sun shining and the birds in the nearby trees chirping.

  Then there was a low rumbling. Tobin rolled over, groaning, and felt the damp grass underneath him. Confused, he opened his eyes and reached out to touch the grass.

  The grass was blue.

  Tobin stood up. He looked around, his forehead furrowed.

  The sky was yellow. The clouds were a light shade of pink. The leaves of the dense trees around him were blue, and waving from a slight breeze. A bird—a tall, skinny crane at least seven feet tall—flew from one of the trees to the next.

  In front of Tobin, the rumbling came again. He turned toward it, to the trees that surrounded the quiet clearing. The leaves in that area were shaking. Faster and faster.

  Suddenly, a blood-colored dinosaur burst into the clearing with a thundering ROAR! The massive, tyrannosaurus-like beast had leathery wings on its back, a body covered in bumpy scales, and a hideous head the size of a Winnebago. As it lowered its neck, it eyeballed Tobin, snorted, and then charged, its feet hammering the earth.

  Tobin screamed, paralyzed with fear. The furious dinosaur closed in on him, roaring, its heavy tail whipping back-and-forth. It was so fierce, so giant, so angry. But then…

  BOOM! A blinding, green explosion erupted against the dino’s face, causing it to crash to the ground. Its massive body skidded across the wet grass, and its lifeless head, mouth slung open and dripping with blood, came to a stop inches in front of Tobin’s feet. The boy looked down at it, with his eyes wide and his heart racing.

  Then, something grabbed Tobin’s arm. He spun around, looking there to find a six-and-a-half foot tall, blue-and-white Siberian husky. It was standing like a man, and wearing a cowboy hat, a brown leather jacket, and blue jeans. It was also wielding a very large gun.

  “We need to run,” the dog said to him.

  The dog pushed Tobin in front of him and they ran across the field.

  “What—what is going on?” Tobin gasped. “What are you?”

  “I’m a talking dog,” the talking dog replied. “Head towards that sky-ship.”

  Tobin looked ahead and saw a gleaming silver jet parked in the grass at the other end of the field.

  “Why are we running?” he yelled to the dog.

  “Take a wild friggin’ guess.”

  ROAR! Another winged-dinosaur emerged from the forest, shaking the trees with its deafening bellow. Luckily, though, the boy and the dog were only a few yards away from the silver aircraft, and they ran into a door that slid open on its side.

  Inside the craft, the dog ran into the cockpit, leaving Tobin behind in the cabin. The boy was surrounded by three rows of empty seats.

  “What is going on?” Tobin yelled. “What the hell is going on?”

  The dog sat in the pilot’s seat, pushing a series of buttons on the control panel. “Recognize that guy?” he asked.

  Tobin turned and saw Orion sleeping in a chair. “Yeah?”

  “You came here with him. You’re lucky I found you before they did.”

  “They who?”

  The dog turned around.

  “You serious?”

  The sky-ship shook violently. Tobin looked out a window; the maroon-colored dinosaur had now grabbed one of the ship’s wings with its jaws.

  “Ah, krandor,” the dog snapped, spinning back to the controls. “Hold on tight, kid.”

  The dog pushed a big red button, and a burst of blue fire shot out from the ship’s wing, surrounding the dinosaur. The beast roared and let go of the wing, allowing the ship to take off.

  Tobin fell backward, knocked over into a chair as the craft zoomed upward into the sky. Nearb
y, Orion was awakened by the commotion, sitting up and looking around at the shaking, trembling sky-ship. Then he noticed Tobin.

  “Stay there,” the old man said. “Don’t move.”

  Gripping the armrests of his chair, Tobin watched as Orion walked to the cockpit.

  “What’s happening?” the old man asked the talking dog.

  “I got your call, and as soon as I got here, two blood birds were approaching. One of them is on our butt right now.”

  Orion looked to a monitor in the cockpit; the dinosaur was flying through the air and following them.

  “Send me up,” the old man said, walking to the back of the ship.

  “Are you sure?” the dog asked. “You’re pretty wiped out, O, you should probably just—”

  “Send me up,” the old man repeated.

  The dog shrugged. “You got it.”

  Walking past Tobin, Orion took a quiver of arrows from the wall, put it on his back, and then stood in the center of the cabin. As he crouched down, he pulled a series of metal straps across his boots. The straps were attached to a silver plate in the floor.

  “Tobin,” the old man said, “this is my friend, Keplar Costello. He’s the pilot and owner of this ship we’re in, the Sky-Blade. Keplar, Tobin. Tobin, Keplar.”

  The dog stopped manning the controls long enough to throw Tobin a peace sign. “Hey, how’s it goin’, bro?”

  Tobin had a death-lock on the armrests. “Oh. Okay.”

  Orion finished strapping his boots to the silver plate and stood up. “Tobin, I’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, I know, but I can’t really get into it right now.” He took an arrow from his quiver and strung it in his bow. “I’d just really rather not start explaining everything while we’re being chased by a dinosaur.”

  The old man looked into the cockpit.

  “Keplar, send me up.”

  “All right, you’re going.”

  Reaching forward, the dog pulled on a lever, and suddenly a hatch opened in the ceiling above Orion, sending cold air rushing into the ship. The old man was then raised upward by a hydraulic lift, which pushed him and the silver plate right up through the open hatch and out onto the ship’s roof. When the old man was outside, the hatch closed.

  Tobin stared at the ceiling. He had no idea what was going on.

  “Hey, bro,” Keplar said, “you can come up here and watch, if you want to. It’s pretty sweet.”

  Shaking with fear, Tobin walked into the cockpit. On a monitor on the dashboard, he could see Orion; the old man was strapped by his feet to the top of the Sky-Blade, bracing himself in the wind.

  He could not believe he once did this for fun.

  With his old knees buckling, Orion stood atop the Sky-Blade and tried to keep his balance. When he felt halfway confident, he finally looked up and aimed an arrow at his target: the gigantic, blood-colored dinosaur flapping its wings above him.

  The lizard looked down at the ship and let out a tremendous ROAR!, and Orion had to duck when it swiped its spike-covered tail at him. Crouching, he restrung his arrow, but his fingers slipped, and the arrow went flying away.

  “Dammit!” he spat. He reached for another arrow, but then saw the lizard roar again. This time, a wave of fire burst from its jaws, and Orion had to fall forward to avoid the flames.

  Lying on his stomach and already breathing heavy, the old man grabbed a pipe on the ship’s roof for support and looked up, carefully watching his enemy. The lizard was swooping upward now, readying itself for another attack. The old man was running out of time.

  He stood and steadied himself. He turned his eyes skyward and pulled back an arrow. The arrowhead erupted with red fire. After carefully aiming the weapon, the old man let go of the string and let it fly.

  BOOM! The arrow exploded against the underbelly of the dinosaur in a bright red flash! Roaring, the lizard flew downward, losing speed, its wings flapping erratically. Orion fired another arrow and another and another, in three perfect motions: SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  With its bloodied, enormous jaws clenched and growling, the blood bird’s body dropped, its head bowed. Soon, its leathery wings stopped flapping altogether, and Orion watched as the giant beast whistled past the sky-ship and plummeted toward the ground. It crashed there at a violent speed, sending up a plume of dirt and rocks and grass into the air. When the debris cleared, Orion saw the dino lying there in a crater, hundreds of feet away, never to flap its wings again.

  The old man sighed. After he put his bow into his quiver, he and the platform were lowered back down into the Sky-Blade.

  “Yee-ha!” Keplar shouted, as Orion and the platform arrived in the cabin. “That was awesome, O! I haven’t seen a blood bird fall like that in years! That…was…the…krandor!”

  Orion unlatched his boots from the silver plate, collapsing into a seat. His arms trembled as he placed his bow on the ground next to him.

  “It might have been the ‘krandor,’ but it took a hell of a lot out of me. Dammit, I’m getting old.”

  As Orion laid back and brought his arms across his stomach, Tobin was shocked to see that the old man’s fingers were curled and smoking.

  “Keplar, take us back to my place,” Orion said weakly. “We can’t stay there long, but there’s some things I need to get before we go. They’re already looking for us. We have to keep moving.”

  Keplar set the course on his controls. “We’re on our way, O. Get some rest.”

  Lying in his chair with his eyes closed, the old man reached for his bow, so Tobin picked it up and handed it to him. The old man turned and looked at the boy.

  “I’m sorry, Tobin. I’m sorry this has happened to you. I tried so hard to stop it. I’m sorry.”

  Tobin was confused. The old man then turned to the wall and closed his eyes.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I know you will. I just hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  In the cockpit, Keplar laughed uncomfortably. “Okay, Orion, go to sleep. You’re freaking the kid out even more than he already is, which I didn’t think was possible.”

  In a state of stunned shock, and without knowing what else to do, Tobin slowly walked into the cockpit and sat down next to Keplar. When the boy looked out the side window, he could see the ground speeding by far below them. When he looked ahead through the sweeping windshield that stretched across the cockpit, he could see a gleaming, futuristic city in front of them, with super-tall buildings, flashing lights, and all kinds of colorful billboards. It was too much for the boy to understand and he felt like crying.

  Keplar noticed how much the boy was trembling.

  “So,” the dog asked, “how you like flying in a class 7-24 sky-ship, kid?”

  Leaning toward Tobin, the dog turned the steering wheel from side-to-side, then pushed a horn, which honked loudly outside in a funny little tune. He grinned.

  “Pretty freakin’ sweet, huh?”

  Tobin wasn’t sure if his brain would allow him to answer, but he gave it a try.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s…nice.”

  “You wanna try?” The dog pushed the steering wheel toward Tobin. “It’s just like driving a car, pretty much. Here, go ahead.”

  “No!” Tobin blurted, holding his hands out and pressing his body against the window. “No, no, I don’t want to.”

  The boy suddenly felt sick and began to gag.

  “Uh...are you gonna puke?” Keplar asked him.

  “I think so.”

  The dog reached for an empty fast food bag on the floor and handed it to him.

  “Here—if you’re gonna spew, spew into this.”

  Tobin took the bag and immediately vomited into it. Keplar stared at him, surprised.

  “Wow, he actually did it.�
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  As Tobin breathed into the bag, Keplar tried to get the conversation going again.

  “So, that was fun, huh? Getting chased by dinosaurs and stuff? That kinda thing happens to us all the time, really, so no big deal. One time, one of these big scorpion things was chasing us, so we—”

  Tobin vomited into the bag again. Keplar looked at the floor near the boy’s feet.

  “Glad I just got my ship cleaned,” the dog muttered.

  Tobin looked ahead at the bright, noisy city. His stomach was churning, and he felt light-headed. He wanted to be out of there. He wanted to be home.

  “What—what is going on?” he asked, the words barely leaving his throat.

  “Uh-uh, you’re gonna havta ask him that.” Keplar motioned to the back of the ship. “But don’t worry, he should be up again soon. Ever since he’s been going to Earth so much lately, he’s been feeling a little off, ya know—getting old, that kinda thing. But he should be fine once he gets some rest.”

  Tobin turned to the cabin and saw Orion sleeping.

  “What he has to tell you isn’t gonna be easy to take, kid,” Keplar continued, “but listen to him good. He knows a heck of a lot, and is a great teacher. Saved my butt countless times.”

  As Tobin turned back to the front of the cockpit, he noticed something. It was a framed photograph, hanging on the wall behind Keplar.

  It was the same photograph of the two costumed men that Orion had given Tobin at the supermarket.

  “Believe me, Tobes,” Keplar said, “the old dude knows what he’s talking about. You can trust me on that one.”

  Soaring through the air, the Sky-Blade’s journey continued, with Tobin trying to will himself to wake up and Keplar never stopping the conversation for more than eight seconds at a time. But, what the two of them didn’t know, was that there was a third blood bird, following them from afar, and tracking their every move...