by M. Lorrox
Gerard reaches out and closes his late friend’s remaining eyelid before standing and moving down the line.
Sadie rushes to the front of the room where the High Council was seated. Chairs and bodies are strewn around, and thankfully, she sees the bodies moving. She finds Raúl and helps him sit up. “Are you injured?”
He touches his face and withdraws his hand to look at it—it’s covered with blood. He looks at Sadie. “Nothing severe, I don’t believe. What happened?”
Sadie shakes her head then glances out the window as the sound of firetrucks and emergency equipment approach from the distance. Her eyes pause on the burning remnants of the van on in the middle of the lawn. “It had to have been an attack on us...a failed attack.”
Raúl’s eyes water as he sees bloody vampires shift their bodies and rise. “I’m not sure I’d call it a failed attack.”
Sadie swallows, pats him on the shoulder, then moves on to check on the other high councilors.
Coach found an injured vampire who truly could use blood, senior officer of the Council Guard Miyamoto Tatsu, and Coach bleeds into his mouth.
A metal piece of window frame impales Tatsu, jutting from his chest and out his back near his left shoulder. He coughs blood back up against Coach’s arm.
“Drink up, man, drink.”
Tatsu swallows the blood—both Coach’s as well as his own. The window frame missed Tatsu’s lungs, but the blast bruised them, as well as his liver, stomach, and other organs. He’s bleeding internally.
One flight up, the man who was watching television when a man was blasted through his window recovers his senses and finds a pair of legs against the wall past the bed. Flying Eagle lies on the ground below, on his back with his head aimed toward the bed, with his butt and legs above him.
The man rips the debris off Flying Eagle, then swallows when he sees the man’s face. The skin is loose and burned, blistered and bleeding. Without moving Flying Eagle, the man checks him for a pulse. Beads of sweat roll down the man’s dusty face, clearing a path through the material and dripping off his chin as white, salty drops. There! It’s weak, but there.
Outside, sirens roar in the distance, and the man gets to his feet and looks out the window. He shakes his head and blinks his eyes, not believing what he sees: a small crater with something burning in its middle, then a ring of charred and blasted earth, then snapped trees and shrubs all pointing away from the site. A police cruiser skids to a halt in the road beside the grass, and a pair of officers pile out, rushing toward the hotel.
The man holds his hands to his mouth to yell at them—to tell them there’s an unconscious and seriously injured man in his hotel room—but he realizes there’s probably many more people that are injured down on the ground. Should I call 911 or the front desk? Everyone’s probably calling someone... His eyes flash with an idea, and he runs to the hallway. People are rushing past, and he jumps in front of a guy who is alone. “Hey! Help me carry this man.” He holds his thumb over his shoulder, pointing into his room. “He was shot through my window!”
Gabriel leads the group, although it’s Ghost who gives the directions. She leads them along the same path she took back from her scouting mission…with some alterations because no one is in the jumping mood. She and Balena carry July on the makeshift stretcher, and Charlie takes up the rear. They’re finally off the steep part of the mountain and enter the softly sloping valley north of the facility. They turn west and start to head back to the shore where the boats are, but Ghost spins her head to the side. “Stop. I heard something.”
They freeze and listen. Charlie’s so weak he can barely stand, and he doesn’t hear the crunch of a footstep behind him. The next moment, he feels an arm and a blade across the front of his neck. He groans.
“Nobody move!” Dr. Kazumi Oshiro hides behind Charlie’s bloody form. Only one eye, the top of her frameless glasses, and a few inches of her forehead stick out from behind him.
Ghost squints her eyes—wondering if this person is one of the scientists she boobytrapped into their lab. Oh yeah…I forgot about them. I don’t think she was in that room though.
Gabriel turns, deciding to be the hostage negotiator. “Take it easy, we don’t want any trouble.”
Kazumi laughs. “You’re kidding right? You fucked up EVERYTHING! You say you don’t want trouble?” She glares back.
Charlie swallows and his throat cuts against the blade. “Hey lady, what do you want from us? Huh? Don’t know if you could tell, but we’re kinda injured here, and you’re slowing us from getting medical attention.”
She presses the knife harder into his throat. “Give me what’s mine, and I’ll let you go.”
Charlie furrows his brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She points her other hand at the makeshift stretcher.
“July is NOT going anywhere with anyone. You’ll have to kill us all befo—”
“Not her you fool, the arm. I’ll kill you if I have to.”
Gabriel steps alongside the stretcher. Lying next to July is a bloody limb wrapped in Mary’s jacket. The metal fingertips shine in the light. Gabriel lifts the cybernetic arm. Still attached to it is the wireless communication and battery module, then the egg-shaped coupling bracket, then finally the bit of Mary’s upper arm that Charlie cleaved from her torso with his sword.
Kazumi swallows. “Yeah, just set it down on the ground and walk away.”
Charlie bites his lip. “Lady, what’s your name?”
Gabriel holds the arm but doesn’t set it down.
She clears her throat. “Dr. Kazumi Oshiro, inventor of this technology, and it’s not going anywhere except with me.”
“Kazumi, I’m Charlie, I used to consider myself an old friend of Mary’s and Peter’s, and they’re responsible for maiming my son. They took both his arms, at around the elbow... I was hoping this arm could...you know, I guess be installed or whatever.”
Kazumi breathes deep and pauses while considering her next words. “I’ll be honest here. I don’t care about your son, or any of you, or the whole Væir thing. They gave me all the funding I needed, the best equipment in the world, and asked that I invent the future.” She motions to the hand again. “And I have.”
Charlie closes his eyes. “And that may be, but you’re not going to kill me, and I’m not going to give you that arm. It’s over.”
Thoughts race through her mind. Ultimately, she sighs. “It’s not over, it’s ruined… Everything is ruined.” She loosens her grip on Charlie, pulls the blade away a few inches, and steps to the side. Sticking out of her backpack is her tentacle-like whip prototype and some other shiny pieces of metal. “All my work…”
Charlie turns to face her—she still holds the knife up toward his throat. He sees the shock on her face when she realizes just how wounded, weak, and defeated he looks. “Fix my kid’s arms. Be recognized for that, and let him use them for...well, sometimes...for good things. You can distance yourself from Mary and the murder she wanted to use your work for.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not as simple as screwing in a lightbulb.”
Charlie shakes his head. “Nobody said anything about anything being easy.” He keeps his eyes on Kazumi, but he speaks over his shoulder. “Gabriel? Secure the prisoner.” Charlie motions to the knife with his chin. “You’re going to toss that knife away, and any other weapons you have, right now.”
For a moment, no one blinks. The team’s gaze is locked on Kazumi, and her eyes are locked on Charlie. She sighs and lowers the knife. She slips it into a sheath on her leather belt, then unbuckles the belt and slips it off. “I’m going to want this back.”
While Charlie’s blood-caked head nods, Gabriel takes Kazumi’s backpack, slips the knife inside it, and uses the belt to secure Kazumi’s hands behind her back.
Jambavan and Qilin work as quickly as they can, and within a minute, the
guard Qilin killed is hung from a coatrack upside down. Blood from the neck wound he sustained from the shotgun blast dribbles onto Steve’s face and into his open mouth.
Qilin stands. “Alright, this’ll have to do for now. He said the trunk was in an attached garage. It can’t be far.”
Jambavan removes his hands from the guard, but he keeps them ready to catch him if the coat hooks fail. They don’t. Jambavan motions through the wall with his head. “There’s a garage door on this side of the house—I bet it’s just a room or two away.” He steps over Steve’s body, and as he does, he glances down at him and frowns. Nothing else to do except hope... He swallows. “Let’s complete the mission.”
As Jambavan reaches to open the door, the other guard opens it from the other side. In the amount of time it takes the guard to understand he’s seeing his dead partner hanging upside down, Jambavan puts a bullet into his brain. He falls, Jambavan catches him, slides him to the side, and sets him down near Steve. “Okay, so here’s the other guard that I saw come in.”
Qilin slips through the door with Jambavan right behind her. They enter a pantry with doors leading in and out, and they take a door to the right. They find a workshop with a garage door on one end. Only reflected moonlight finds its way inside the room. Qilin pulls her phone out and hits the power button to turn on the screen. There, in the middle of the floor, is Sadie’s trunk.
They open it, and although its contents are a jumbled mess, a pair of reddish colored gold armlets sit on top. Jambavan’s mind is returned to the world of Sky’s legend—of the ancient gods of life and death—but he can’t dwell there.
Upon seeing the armlets, Qilin relaxes only for a moment. She quickly returns to the urgent present, and she shuts the trunk’s lid.
Jambavan moves to the far side and bends to pick it up. He whispers, “I’m told this thing is extremely heavy.” He stows the pistol into a holster and prepares to lift with all his strength, a fractured wrist, and a broken clavicle.
Qilin is older and stronger, and although she can lift her half of the trunk with just one arm, she quickly finds that using two is a much better idea. With dozens of shuffling steps, they make their way back into the pantry.
Against the far wall, Lorenzo stands and aims his pistol. “Don’t move.”
Qilin groans while Jambavan wishes he could hold the trunk with one hand, draw his pistol and fire it, but he knows it just isn’t in the cards—not with his injuries, anyway.
Lorenzo takes a step into the pantry. “Whom do I have the honor of thanking for killing all my guards?”
“Me.”
Lorenzo glances to his side, toward the doorway to the coatroom and entryway, and he sees Steve standing with blood covering his chin. A guard with a single bullet hole in his head hangs from Steve’s hand. “You little bastard!” Lorenzo spins to aim the gun at Steve.
Steve’s muscles were already primed and waiting to execute his plan, and now that Lorenzo’s gun isn’t aimed at his new friends, he uses all his strength to hurl the guard at the overweight Italian.
“Ahh!” Lorenzo registers a figure flying toward him, and he pulls the trigger on his gun. -Bang! Bang! Thud.- The body crashes into him and sends him to the ground. Lorenzo smacks a table with his head and shoulder, and he drops to the ground. He still loosely holds the gun in his hand.
Steve rushes over and kicks the gun away. Then, he kicks Lorenzo in the gut for good measure. His foot travels into the man’s soft belly, and Lorenzo slides backward into the table’s leg. Lorenzo doesn’t make a sound, and he doesn’t move.
Jambavan starts walking again, pushing the trunk into Qilin’s thighs. “This isn’t getting any lighter. Good job, Steve.” He can’t be fully healed already, he must be tough.
Steve wipes the blood from his chin while his chest seeps more. “Thanks. I sure am glad those guards were human, damn that blood did the trick.”
Qilin huffs. “Get the door, then open the car.”
He walks up and sets the keys on the trunk, then he starts to grab it from Qilin. “Let me—”
She elbows him in the ribs. “I said get the door and the car.”
“Oh, okay.” Steve clears a path through the entryway, then he rushes to open the back of the SUV. Jambavan sets his end of the trunk in, then Steve and Qilin push against the trunk and slide it into the SUV. The vehicle is in park, and they don’t make any progress on pushing the trunk in until the SUV rolls forward an inch and the transmission locks. When it’s pushed all the way in, Qilin runs to the front passenger seat as Steve shuts the gate.
Jambavan is behind the wheel, and when Steve jumps in, he stomps on the gas.
As they tear across the grounds, Steve reaches down and probes his finger into the bloody hole in his chest. “Ouch.” Jambavan smashes through the metal gate at the end of the driveway, and in the jolt, Steve pushes harder against the wound. “Ouch!”
July wakes and blinks a few times. She’s entirely covered by the blanket, and all she can see are pinholes of light that poke through the fabric’s weave. I’m...on something that’s moving. I’m being carried. She closes her eyes and focuses her senses. I’m safe. “Hey.”
Ghost calls out over her shoulder to Charlie, “She’s awake!”
Charlie plods his weary legs forward as fast as he can to reach her. “July?”
She pulls the blanket back and squints into the sunlight. “Charlie? Oh my god, what happened to your face? And your arm, and your side? Are you alright?”
Charlie’s lip hangs open, and dried blood cracks from the claw cuts July gave him less than an hour ago. “Don’t worry about any of that. Are you okay?”
“I...I was trapped with Mary, then...” Her eyes flash open and her hand reaches up to cover her mouth. “She made me attack you! I’m so sorry! It was like a dream, like I wasn’t really awake or something. I’m so sorry! How did she—”
Charlie blinks and shakes his head. “She tricked you—she had abilities. She tried to use them on me, but I think she didn’t have enough time or something.”
Tears soak her eyes. “I tried to kill you, I’m so sorry!”
“I said don’t worry about that. Are you injured?”
She shakes her head. “Did you kill her?”
Charlie shakes his head. He takes a breath and opens his mouth to speak.
July growls through gritted teeth as rage fills her odd green-and-silver eyes. “I’ll kill her! I’m sick of people using me! Never again! I’ll—”
Ghost, who has spun around to face July on the stretcher, yells, “Hey!”
July looks at her through wide pupils and flared nostrils. “WHAT?”
“I cut her head off and stabbed her through the heart. She’s dead, I killed her. Now either get up and walk or sit still.”
“Oh.” July twitches. The air that fills her lungs is laced with scents of earth, leaves on the trees around them, and the slightest hint of saltwater. She relaxes, but she shakes her head. “No one will ever use me again... I’m done being a target.” From now on, I’m the hunter. She glances at a frowning Ghost, then she extends her legs off the piece of fuselage. She notices her bare legs and the scars that spiral up them. She hugs the blanket closer and swallows while closing her eyes and flushing. “I’m naked again, aren’t I? Goddamn it!” She clenches her teeth.
Charlie nods.
She adjusts the blanket and hops to the ground, and Charlie smiles at her. “I’m glad you’re okay, July.”
Her eyes once again assess Charlie’s wounds. “I’m glad you’re still alive too.”
He nods. “I hope to stay that way a little longer.” Then, his strength fails, and he falls to the ground.
Balena and Ghost both wince—they figure that Charlie must weigh at least twice what July does. They set the stretcher beside him, July bends and rolls him onto it, then the two wounded knights groan while l
ifting him up.
Balena grimaces as she tries to grip the torn metal in a way that doesn’t slice her fingers to the bone—like the way Charlie’s fingers are. “I don’t think I can hold this.”
“I can help.” July takes a deep breath, extends an arm underneath the makeshift stretcher, and pushes up on its bottom.
At first, Balena and Ghost notice that the weight they’re carrying just instantly reduced, and that now they’re steering more than lifting. Then they realize July doesn’t even look to be straining. Finally, as they look back at each other, they realize that both of their mouths are hanging open.
They all soon reach the shore where the disabled attack boat and the navy patrol boat wait. As they set the stretcher with Charlie down on the thin beach, the inflatable boat zips across the water. Kazumi sighs, and Gabriel steps to her side. “Everything alright?”
“I’m just not excited about being tossed into a brig.”
“If jail is in your future, you will face it. But before then, I believe your skills can be put to use.” Gabriel shrugs. “Besides, I doubt there’s a brig on the Pukaki.”
She furrows her brow and tilts her head. I could not have heard right.
The inflatable boat reaches the shore. Eddy and a pair of medics jump out. Eddy smiles at July, but only for a moment, ignoring that she stares at the bandages near his elbows—at the ends of his now handless arms. He rushes to his dad’s side and whaps at him with his longer, left arm stump. “Dad! You’re gonna be okay.” He turns to the medic over his shoulder. “Get him a transfusion, now!”
Gabriel motions to Eddy and looks Kazumi in the eye. “He can use your skills.”
Kazumi nods. “Oh, I can work with that...”
After Charlie takes four pints of blood, and the other injured vampires take a pint each, the inflatable runs back to the Pukaki for more supplies. Eddy kneels beside his dad, and July hugs onto Eddy’s side.
She squeezes him a little harder. “It’s going to be okay.”
