Sanctuary

by Alan Janney

  I finally got to my feet. Croc was still trying. This was a disaster. A nightmare. Tank was revealed, unmasked, Infected. And he made us all look like aggressive barbarians. Fiendish demons. The cameras still rolled and thousands watched, but we had to stop him. No other choice.

  We police ourselves, Carter once told me.

  Tank’s quasi-normal life was over. He was a Hyper Human. Thousands knew it. Soon millions. No college scholarships. No professional football.

  I had no energy. No more muscle power. But Tank had to be running low, too. I hoped.

  Before I could move, an eerie high-pitched scream throttled through the nearest tunnel, a piercing siren that silenced all other sounds. The echo bounced around like ghosts in the bleachers.

  What the heck?? What was that?

  Through the tunnel came a little girl. No, regular-sized girl. She just looked little. It was one of our cheerleaders. Soaking wet, like she’d walked through a waterfall.

  She came onto the field, this streaming, angry girl. We all watched warily, even Tank. Something about her.

  Uh oh. Oh no.

  Hannah Walker’s chest was heaving, her baleful eyes fixed solidly on Tank. “Stay. Away. From him,” she whispered, spitting water with each word.

  How’d she get out of the hospital?!

  She had a lighter. What was she…

  That wasn’t water.

  “Hannah no!” I cried. Too late. She flicked the flint. The spark caught, and the gasoline lit. Whoosh! She blazed to life. An immediate conflagration, an inferno-shaped cheerleader.

  The crowd screamed again, but not louder than Hannah’s angry ear-splitting cry. She Moved, a comet streaking across the field, a banshee trailing ash and vapors, far too fast to be human.

  Tank was too agitated to dodge. The fireball launched herself and grabbed onto his upper body. Bright coils of fire splashed off the struggling pair. She held fast, like napalm, as Tank bellowed and pried uselessly at the slippery figure clinging and biting him.

  “Showers!” I cried, hurrying closer. “Tank, get to the showers!” Hannah was protecting me!!?

  He couldn’t hear. He and Hannah were both making too much noise. An Infected once told me our hardened bodies could be burned to death. It was happening right before my eyes!

  Police and coaches tried to tackle them with jackets but Tank bolted. No way he’d be stopped or caught, speeding like a smoldering torch from the field. I was too exhausted to chase. They disappeared into the stadium bowels but his screaming remained long after.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sunday, October 31. 2018

  Samantha Gear

  The whole freaking world was talking about the football fiasco. Puck sent me a constant stream of news updates that I didn’t bother reading. The planet, apparently, was coming apart at the seams with this new fresh devil. Now we had to hear about the Chemist’s terror group of mutants, the Outlaw and his band of merry mutants, and the football mutant.

  Ugh. No thanks.

  Tank was missing. So was Hannah. No one knew where they went, not even Puck. The city’s over-taxed law enforcement offices launched a massive manhunt for the enormous Kid Who Defied Physics. The acrid smell of burnt flesh was almost potent enough to track. But I didn’t want to try. I wanted to get out of here.

  And that was the plan. Tomorrow. We’d fly out of Van Nuys, a private airport on a private jet.

  If I can get Chase to come. And that’s a big If. Otherwise I’m not sure what I’ll do.

  I drove to Chase’s house that evening. First time since the big fall-out with Carter; I couldn’t bear to face the piercing truthfulness of the Outlaw. His innate trust in me, his innocent belief, flayed me alive and stripped my professional defenses.

  It was Halloween and half the kids in Los Angeles dressed like the Outlaw. I carefully wove around the late Trick-or-Treaters and parked in his driveway. Chase sat on his front porch with a bag of candy, staring southwest toward towers in the dying light. Of COURSE he’d be giving candy to kids.

  “Come to say goodbye?” he called.

  I slammed the heavy truck door and said, “We don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Ah.”

  “And you’re handing out candy.”

  “Yep,” he nodded and took a long unsteady breath. “And working up the courage to tell Katie. About the Outlaw. About everything.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. Finally.”

  Wow. This would be huge. I kinda wanted to tag along. Maybe PuckDaddy would record it for me. Although I’m not sure why I cared. But I did.

  “I’m nervous.”

  I laughed. “I don’t blame you.”

  “She didn’t handle the news well, about Tank being Infected. Pretty disturbed.”

  “That’s different. Katie loves you, and she’s a smart girl. You’ve always fought for her. She’ll see that.”

  He changed the subject. “Whither shall you travel?”

  “Whither?”

  “Yes. It means, ‘to where.’ I’ve been working on English homework. Whither shall you and Carter’s consortium travel?”

  “We’re flying to Houston.” I sat beside him, wincing. My facial fractures needed a few more hours of knitting. Tank threw a mean left hook.

  “Houston?”

  “I want you to come with us.”

  He chuckled and presented candy bars to two approaching little kids, one ghost and one Outlaw. He said, “I like your costumes!” They waved and walked off with their father. Chase mumbled, “That’s what I’ve seen tonight. Vampires and zombies and skeletons and Darth Vader and the Outlaw. All monsters.”

  “Think about it, Chase. Carter would welcome you back. I know he would. Give you a job. An identity. A team.”

  “I don’t need Carter to provide those things.”

  “Chase-”

  His voice was urgent, full of concern. “You don’t need him either. You’re stronger than him. He’s just mystery and shadow and money. Nothing real.”

  “You said it yourself. You’re a kid in high school. But I’m not. This is my life.”

  “Waiting around for Carter to beckon so you can go murder another kid isn’t a life, Samantha.”

  His words were like a slap. I recoiled away from him and my eyes stung.

  “Besides,” he continued, “do you want to work for a maniac? A maniac that terrifies you?”

  “Better to work with him than against him. What would you suggest I do?”

  “Stay here. Los Angeles needs you.”

  I shook my head. “Los Angeles is lost, Chase.”

  “I disagree.”

  “The Chemist will attack in the next day or two and destroy as much as he can. He has the firepower and manpower and there’s nothing we can do about it. Then he’ll withdraw before the might of the American military can fully focus against him, and he’ll relocate to Houston.”

  “How do you know this?” He was alarmed. He ground his teeth and his muscles swelled.

  “Carter has sources. The Chemist is going to Houston next, the biggest port in southern America. We think he’s planning on leveling Los Angeles as an example, and then declaring Houston an independent province where Infected can roam free, instead of hide. He’s going to bully his way into a new kingdom. That’s our best guess.”

  “Impossible.” He picked a piece of fuzz from his pants and threw it into the grass. The muscles in his arms bunched and coiled, like thick knotty ropes. “The people of Houston won’t let him. They’ll kick him out.”

  “The people of Los Angeles haven’t.”

  “We’re not done yet!” he snapped at me. “Samantha, I’m not leaving until I know the city is safe. Understand? This is my home. And it’s yours, too.”

  “No it’s not,” I scoffed. “I’ve lived here less than a year.”

  “Oh yeah? Then where is your home?”

  “I told you. I have two. One in Atlanta-”

  “And one in Germany, I
know. But I didn’t ask where you keep your stuff. I didn’t ask where you have houses or apartments. Where is your home?”

  “I don’t…I mean, I’m not…”

  “Our home is wherever our family is.” He tapped himself on the chest, just below the hollow of his throat. “I’m your family, Samantha. Me and Puck. And Katie and Lee. And Dad. We’re your home.”

  “Jeez, Chase,” I grumbled, and I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes as they began to burn. Something deep inside me ached. I didn’t want to leave.

  “Carter is no better than the Chemist. He wants to use you up, advancing his agenda. You belong with me. Not with him.”

  “Carter is a hard man. But he’s not an evil one.”

  He chuckled but his eyes remained flat. “That’s what the Chemist’s henchmen say about their boss, too.”

  “What would I even do here? After this is all over? I’d need a job.”

  “Are you kidding? You’d be the best cop on earth.”

  I grinned. “I’d be pretty good at that.”

  “Holy crap, yes. Two months flat, crime would stop cold. Besides, I think the Chemist is right about one thing; we shouldn't be hiding. You were born with traits that others don’t have. You could use them to make money. Probably a lot of money. Legally.”

  I shook my head. We were getting side-tracked. “But Chase, in the meantime. There’s a megalomaniac out there. And he’s dying. And he wants you to be the face of his new empire. And our best chance of getting him is in Houston. Then life can go back to normal.”

  Before he could argue, the breeze shifted and tossed strands of his hair. He froze. His eyes sharpened and he stood up. I felt it too. The falling dusk air carried something new. The hairs on my neck rose in alarm. There was…something…

  “Do you feel that?” he whispered.

  “Yeah. One of us. An Infected.”

  He closed his eyes, tilting his head and inhaling deeply. He held it a long moment, let it out, and said, “Tank.”

  I can move fast, but nothing compared to Chase.

  We Moved, bolting toward Katie’s. I’m not sure Chase touched the ground. Tank’s distinct odor, mixed with seared flesh, became stronger as we neared. Most trick-or-treaters had gone home, thankfully.

  Tank was behind Katie’s, about to leave. He had a struggling bundle of sheets hefted over one shoulder. His appearance was gruesome. Second and third degree burns coated his shoulders and face, some leaking puss, discolored and swollen. Much of his hair was missing.

  The crosshairs of my .45 Beretta locked onto his left eye-socket. Our only chance. The other eye was caked shut, a coagulated mess. He backed defensively into the bricks, growling.

  Chase asked, “Kidnapping again? Didn’t you already try that?”

  The pile of sheets squeaked, “Chase?!”

  Tank spoke in a rattle, “Not kidnapping. Just want to talk without that bitch of a mother screaming at me.”

  “Fine,” I said, and I thumbed the hammer back. Unnecessary but effective. The clicking sound is so sexy. “Put her down and let’s talk.”

  “Did you hurt her mom?”

  “Ain’t hurt nobody, pajamas. And I won’t. This between me and her.”

  “No chance, Tank.” Chase was furious, his voice a low and dangerous whisper. “You can’t have her. Not again.”

  “Ain’t like last time,” Tank woofed. He was getting angrier too. Could be a problem. “Don’t want to fight. Just talk.”

  Katie’s muffled voice, “Last time??! What last time??”

  “You two little people sure you want to do this? You can’t win. I know that now.” His voice caught, and he closed his one good eye in pain and frustration. “Not even sure I can die.”

  “I’ll think of something. Put her down.”

  I kept my gun trained on him, but I needed to call for reinforcements. We couldn’t beat him, not just the two of us. There’d never been an Infected like him before.

  “Tank,” Chase said, “You need a doctor. Like, serious medical care. I will help you. I swear I will.”

  To my relief, he dropped Katie onto the grass, against the wall. The sheets fell away from her head. There she was, a cocoon with a beautiful face. I hated Katie for making me love her.

  “This wasn’t your business,” Tank said. “Just wanted to talk, hero. Didn’t want to fight. Now, no choice.”

  “Chase, Samantha,” Katie panted, tears pooling in her eyes. “Call the police! Please! He’s too strong.”

  “Police?” Tank chuckled, giving Chase a long, penetrating glance. “She still ain’t know the awful truth about you?”

  “I will tell her. Not you.”

  “Let’s tell her together,” he grinned. Once handsome, his face was now twisted and splotchy. I almost pulled the trigger then. Almost.

  Katie asked, “Tell me what?”

  “Lover Boy here is a liar,” Tank said. “A secret keeper.”

  “Tank,” Chase groaned, raking nails through his hair. He appeared wildly anxious, and kept glancing at Katie. “Please. Maybe this could be the one area of my life you don’t try to ruin?”

  “Can’t trust him, Katie.” Tank shook his head. “Not who he says he is. He’s a fraud and a coward. Lies to you. Constantly.”

  “Chase, what-”

  “Katie.” Chase took a big breath. Let it out. Then he took another one. Oh wow. Now I was nervous. “I returned your phone that night.”

  “My phone?”

  “A year ago. When it was stolen? I got it back. It was me on that video. Wearing a stupid mask.”

  She didn’t speak. Just stared.

  “It’s been me all along. I didn’t know how to tell you. And then the whole charade got bigger and out of hand. I took you jumping on rooftops. That was me.” He was crouching now, fixing her hair, pushing it behind her ears. His fingers trembled. “I almost kissed you then, but Samantha shot me.”

  “Oh yeah!” I laughed at the sudden memory. “Forgot about that. …sorry.”

  “Samantha shot…how did…Chase, what?”

  He continued. “I visited you. With the mask. We sat behind those pine trees and talked and you rested your head on my shoulder.”

  She glanced at the pines, nodding, stunned.

  “It’s me.” He pulled out the bandana and mask. “I was born weird. My abnormalities cause me to do weird stuff. Like put on masks. I’m the Outlaw.”

  Katie’s eyes were large pools, capturing and holding Chase and all the galaxy within. As always when she truly looked at Chase, a rosy patina settled into her cheeks. Finally, at last, the truth was open between them. Their faces were close and the sheets rose and fell with her deep breathing. Her lips slowly turned up into the most magnificent smile I’ve ever seen. She was so beautiful it hurt.

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really.”

  “Both of the men I love are found within the same man?”

  “If you’ll still have me, we’re both yours.”

  “This is the hottest thing ever. Why did you not tell me?”

  The moment was forcibly wrenched from them. I made a mistake. I was distracted. I cared too much. I let my guard down. And Tank took advantage. Before I knew it, he had my pistol and my fist in his huge hand. His other hand was around my neck, easily raising me off the ground, squeezing. No air! I hit and kicked but it was useless. He was a statue made out of tempered steel.

  Katie cried, “Samantha!”

  Chase spun. Tank crushed the pistol until my fingers popped out of socket.

  “You took everything from me!” Tank roared. “An eye for an eye!”

  A new voice interrupted us. Lee!? Cute little Lee ran around the corner, wearing an Outlaw vest, and cried, “Not while I’m around, bitch! Bam!” He shut one eye, raised something that looked like a pistol, and fired.

  In his surprise, Tank released me just as the electroshock projectile connected with his chest. Lee’s handheld device transferred a high-voltage current through
the wire and into Tank’s body, an instantaneous bolt of lightning. A bright pop of blue energy, and it was over.

  It was too much for Tank. The distress, the football championship, the injuries, the heartbreak, and now the electricity. He was felled like a mighty tree, unconscious.

  “Oh crap. I killed him, dude.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I coughed and gagged. “He’ll live. And I need one of your toys.”

  Katie wondered, “Samantha, where’d you get a gun?”

  Lee cried, “She’s the Los Angeles Sniper, baby! And I’m the Outlaw’s sidekick! Waaahoooo!!” He pumped his fist and started dancing around Tank’s prone body. “In your face! In your face!”

  Chase picked up Katie, cocoon and all, and held her close, her face in the crook of his neck. No more distractions. No more lies. A union of souls. I pretended I wasn’t jealous of her beauty. I pretended I wasn’t jealous of their white hot happiness.

  I flexed my fist, realigning bones and joints, and used my other hand to make a phone call. A familiar voice answered and I rasped, “Richard. Come to Katie’s apartment. We’ve got Tank. He needs to be restrained. Bring…bring everything you got.”

  “And a doctor,” Chase called. “He’s hurt.”

  I sighed, “And I suppose a doctor. But seriously, you’ll need every elasticuff you have. And chains. And tranquilizers. And the biggest straightjacket on the planet. I’m not joking, Richard. Chains.”

  * * *

  Richard and two squad cars arrived. The four grown men worked quickly. They bound Tank’s wrists together, behind his back. And, because I demanded it, his forearms. Then they pinned Tank’s arms tightly against his torso. Six elasticuffs so far. Next, his ankles. And finally, two cuffs connected his ankles and wrists.

  He was trussed like a chicken. And it wasn’t enough.

  He woke, flexed, and snapped one of the forearm locks.

  The cops panicked. Richard calmly drew his X26 stun-gun, but I got there first. I pressed the big barrel of a shotgun into the soft flesh under Tank’s jaw and switched the safety off. He froze.

  (“Whoa! How’d she get my shotgun?” the cop yelped. Richard lied, “I gave it to her. Now shut up.”)