by S. S. Segran
He bounced the coin on his palm, noting the symbols on either side; a rising phoenix on one and on the other, a Dema-Ki symbol similar to the letter Z with a horizontal line crossing through the center. Strange, he thought. If the symbol was a lighter shade, that would mean creation. Darker, destruction. This is mid-tone. What statement are you trying to make, Reyor?
The guards stationed by Victor’s cell looked up when he returned with a can of root beer. Confusion had just started to appear on their faces when Deverell tossed the can high into the air. “Catch.”
One of them instinctively grabbed the drink as it soared over his head. Deverell swung his fist into the man’s face then pivoted on his heel to grab the second guard around the neck. By the time the first man recovered from the punch and got over the shock of a broken nose, the Sentry had dealt with the other guard and had his gun pointed at him.
The guard grimaced, a red stream trickling down his lips. “Who are you?”
“On your knees. And remove your gun.”
The guard gave him a nasty look but obliged. Deverell reversed his hold on the rifle and jabbed the butt at the man’s head, but the guard rolled aside and kicked out, catching the Sentry’s knees. Deverell buckled, nearly dropping the gun. The guard shot up and slammed his forearm against Deverell’s. The Sentry muffled a yelp and let go of the weapon, then found himself staring down its barrel. He put his arms up slowly and concentrated with all his might.
The guard’s expression transformed into horror as the Sentry’s face morphed into his. “Holy—”
Deverell shoved the gun away from his head and slammed the confused guard into the wall before forcefully wrenching him to the ground in a reverse chokehold. The guard swung wildly, nearly landing a few punches on Deverell before going limp and getting pricked with a needle. The Sentry shoved the guard off, chest heaving, then pushed himself up and opened the door to the holding cell.
Victor turned to him as he entered. The tortured man bristled, fighting against his restraints and spitting imprecations. Deverell stepped back. “Whoa, hey! Vic! It’s me! It’s me!”
That only riled Victor more. Deverell, realizing his mistake, morphed back to himself and watched the hostility drain from his friend’s eyes. As he crouched to unbuckle Victor’s restraints, the older Sentry stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “My message got through?” he murmured.
“Some of it, yes. Where’s Chief?”
“They took him away.”
“You think they’d—”
“No, they wouldn’t kill him. Not when they think they can use him as a bargaining chip.” Speaking those few words left Victor breathless. “It’s good to see your dopey face, kid.”
Deverell grinned as he released the last of the manacles. “Good to see you too.” He paused when they heard several sets of footsteps hurrying down the long corridor. Victor tried to get up but his legs gave out almost instantly. Deverell caught him and sat him back down. “What did they do to you, mate?”
The Canadian Sentry looked as though he was about to slip into unconsciousness. Deverell grabbed his head and urgently shook it. “Don’t close your eyes, Vic. I’m getting you out of here, okay?” He lifted his left hand and pulled back a cover on his second leather bracelet, revealing a compartment with a few capsules no bigger than beads. He held one up to Victor’s nose and snapped it between his fingers. A spray of green mist puffed out and entered the other Sentry’s nostrils as he inhaled. A couple of heartbeats later Victor threw his head back, his eyes wide open. “What was that?”
Deverell pulled him up and passed him his black utility jacket that was strewn on the floor. “A combination of naturally-occurring chemical compounds that Gareth and I created. What you’re feeling right now is a rush of adrenalin.”
“We’re lucky you jokers enjoy experimenting and creating stuff. Got any more toys?”
“In my bag.”
“Good.” Victor shrugged on his jacket. “Let’s get outta Dodge.”
They started to move but jerked to a halt when a hooded figure, taller than either of them, appeared in the doorway. Deverell could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees.
The men hesitated. In that moment, Reyor swept out a hand and the Sentries were lifted off the floor and flung across the room. Their backs smashed against the wall. They groaned, hanging midway. The terror Deverell felt earlier came rushing back as he found he was unable to free himself from Reyor’s telekinetic grip.
The towering figure took a step into the room, followed by Dr. Nate and a young man in the shadows in the background. Deverell threw a look at Victor and saw the battered Sentry give Reyor a black stare of seething contempt. Victor flicked his wrist once. Nothing happened. Deverell realized too late what the other man was trying to do. As a warning cry pushed past Deverell’s lips, Victor flicked his wrist again and Reyor lurched back a few steps, dropping the Sentries.
Deverell reached out to stop Victor but the other man leaned forward, raised his arms behind him and, with white-hot fury in his eyes, swept them forward. Deverell leapt back as a powerful concussive wave tore through the holding cell, shattering the two-way glass into fragments. Reyor staggered out of the room, colliding against a wall. Dr. Nate was sent tumbling backward like a helpless penguin in a storm and the third man with them was knocked clear to the ground, facedown.
Deverell rounded on Victor. “What the hell were you thinking?” he bellowed. “Harming Reyor could have set off the lathe’ad!”
Victor gradually came to his senses. He stared down at his shaking hands, haunted. Deverell grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the exit. As they stepped over the man laying facedown, Victor stumbled against the doorframe. “I—just… suddenly weak…”
Deverell held him upright and guided him through the door. “It’s the compound I gave you. Every time you use your abilities, it weakens you. You were already in bad shape and you just unleashed a massive blast in there.”
“Temper… got the—got the better of me. But I was weak… could have been worse.”
“Well, let’s hold off on the spectacle until you’re better, alright?”
The hooded figure was nowhere to be seen as they shambled into the hallway. “Think Reyor bolted?” Deverell muttered.
“No,” Victor said between wheezes. “Tactical retreat. Reyor has no idea what… what other abilities we might have, and because I pulled a stupid… stunt back there… it must have startled the monster. Reyor’s not ready to be a martyr yet.”
As Deverell pushed open the door leading to the cavern, Victor caught his breath and pulled away to stoop over a dazed Dr. Nate, drawing out two silver rings from the diminutive man’s pocket. “These belong to me,” he snarled.
The Sentries hurried out as an alarm sounded. Deverell slung Victor’s arm around his neck. “Vic, there are some explosives in my bag. Grab one and—”
“I got it.” Victor fished out a blue gel cube, armed it, and tossed it behind them. It landed a few meters away from the exterior wall of the administrative building, exploding seconds later in a fiery display. The force pitched the Sentries forward but they kept their footing.
Guards patrolling inside the cavern poured toward the commotion. Deverell, dragging Victor as though he’d been injured in the blast, shouted at them. “There was an explosion! There are people inside! Help them!”
The men and women in uniform sprinted to the administrative building. Deverell and Victor had only just made it past the locker room when they heard Dr. Nate scream, “What are you doing? They’re getting away! Appre’end them!”
“We’ve been made.” Victor pulled away from Deverell and the pair took off toward the parking lot. “Dev, give me another dose of whatever you used.”
“I can’t.
“Come on!”
“I can’t! One dosage max, or you’ll be so pumped with adrenaline your heart will give out!”
Victor glanced over his shoulder at the half-dozen guard
s in breakneck pursuit. “We’re not gonna lose them.”
“Don’t even think—”
Victor turned around and let loose a roar as he unleashed another powerful concussive blast that flung the guards back. Deverell caught him as he doubled over and threw up. “Are you mad?”
Victor wiped his mouth, appearing more than a little wan, then snapped his fingers and sent out a microblast Deverell knew was specifically for his wolfdog to respond to. The Canadian Sentry listened closely for a few moments, then said, “I know where Chief is. I—”
Deverell’s look of horror made him stop and do an about-face. SONEs in military fatigues in the field across from the parking lot stared at them expressionlessly. Then, in eerie uniformity, they flooded toward the Sentries like a single organism.
“Run!” Deverell yelled.
The men careened to the parking lot. Deverell removed his backpack as they neared the first row of vehicles and grabbed a red spherical gel, armed it, and tossed it over his shoulder. The device erupted, releasing a thick fog of near-impenetrable smoke. The SONEs fell back, gasping for air and choking.
Deverell coughed and hacked, then quickly covered his mouth. “You need to get Chief now, Vic!” He tossed the other man his left bracelet. “Use only one dose if he’s sedated! And don’t take any for yourself, you hear me?”
Victor took off, disappearing behind the parking lot. Deverell fell back against the hood of a Hummer, unable to stop coughing. A battle cry erupted as four SONEs pierced the fog and converged on him, hauling him down by his legs. The back of his head smacked against the ground, temporarily blurring his vision and jumbling his hearing. He kicked out, his feet catching one teenager in the stomach and pushing him away. Another struck him with a baton, opening a stinging gash from his temple to his cheek. He howled and thrashed, boxing the SONE under her chin with a hard uppercut and throwing her head back.
A youth on his other side grabbed his arm. Deverell put all his weight onto the teenager as he pushed himself up and, with their arms locked, rolled over the SONE’s back. He unleashed a monster kick into the youth’s side that sent him staggering away. The Sentry stole a moment to cough the smoke from his system only to have two more SONEs drive him to the ground. His bellow was cut short as the girl gripped him around his throat, her hold as tight as a constricting python. He slapped meekly at her hands, air no longer finding its way into his body.
A roar reverberated through the Sanctuary like the rolling of thunder. As if on command, the SONEs stepped away from Deverell, distancing themselves until they disappeared into the smoke. The Sentry sat up, gingerly touching his bruising neck, wondering what had just happened. The sound of thunder echoed again, this time closer. Deverell’s gut twisted.
From the smoke, three pairs of sulfur-colored eyes emerged, followed by muscular, black-furred bodies with cropped tails and ears. The creatures’ massive, elongated jaws peeled back in gruesome snarls, revealing three-inch long fangs in double rows. They advanced on massive, silent paws with their curved, serrated claws unsheathed. Standing five feet at the shoulder and six feet in length, the beasts approached with hair-raising calmness, under which Deverell could sense an insatiable hunger for slaughter and mayhem.
The Sentry slowly stood up and backed between two vehicles. His truck was some rows down. If I can just get—
Two of the beasts leapt, easily covering fifteen feet. They slammed down onto the trucks on either side of him, their weight crumpling the roofs like cardboard. Deverell stared at them, mouth hanging open, and they appeared to grin murderously back at him. He fled among the vehicles, slamming into side mirrors but not stopping. The beasts followed, sending a boom throughout the cavern with each roof-crushing impact and snapping their jaws at him as he ran for his life. He had a sick feeling that they were toying with him, that they were enjoying seeing him panic as they relished in the hunt.
His truck came into view. He pulled the door open, dove in and slammed it shut. Gasping, he locked everything.
Boom.
The roof of the truck collapsed inward, nearly crushing his skull. He yelped and looked up in time to see long claws pierce the vehicle’s metal skin, almost impaling his eyes. He sank low in his seat and turned on the engine as another thud sounded. Peering through the gap between the headrest and the seat, he spotted the second beast on the flatbed. It rushed at the rear windshield, ramming its head against the thick glass. Cracks appeared like a growing spider web.
As the beast prepared to slam the glass again, the driver’s window shattered inward and the third monster shoved its head through, nearly filling the whole frame. Before the Sentry could move, it clamped its jaws around his left arm. A guttural scream tore from Deverell as he heard bone snap and flesh rip. He lifted his other arm and repeatedly stabbed the creature in its eye with the five remaining tranquilizers in his bracelet. The creature let go and stumbled back. It flung its head furiously from side to side and let out a roar that wobbled the entire truck before finally falling to the ground. Whether it was unconscious or dead, Deverell couldn’t tell, and didn’t care find out. His arm hung useless by his side and the adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain as he bled over everything—the steering wheel, the seat, himself.
Keep it together, he thought, shivering. All his senses were heightened. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and smelled it from his injuries, and nearly suffocated on the pungent reek of ammonia coming off the beasts.
As he reached for the gearstick, he heard the rear window shatter. He didn’t get the chance to put the truck in reverse. The Marauder on the roof leapt down and shoved its head through the broken driver’s window. It was bigger than the others but managed to squeeze its head in. Deverell scooted across to the passenger seat. The beast bared its teeth, tongue poking out between its fangs as if to say, You can’t run, and you can’t hide.
It tried to crawl in but found it couldn’t fit and retreated. The Sentry took his place behind the wheel again but the beast shoved its head back in, bit down on the window frame and tore the door clear off the truck, flinging it several dozen yards away. Before Deverell knew what had happened, the beast snapped its fangs around his mangled arm and hauled him to the ground like a ragdoll. Spittle dripped from its mouth onto Deverell’s face as he fought to keep the creature away from his neck. He screeched as the beast opened its jaws wide and went in for the kill.
A blur of silver-gray barreled into the monster, knocking it off the Sentry. Deverell sat up and scooched toward the truck, stunned to find Chief grappling with the much bigger creature. As he climbed back into the vehicle, he saw Victor running toward the fray.
The beast in the flatbed jumped onto the truck’s roof and gazed down. Deverell pulled himself back into the truck just as the creature leapt over his head and bowled Chief over, leaving the other beast to pick the wolfdog up by his scruff.
The Sentry threw the truck in reverse and powered down the backseat window. “Chief!”
Chief, his ears pinned and his hackles raised, violently clawed his way to freedom. Smaller and lither than the beasts, he weaved past them and gracefully soared through the open window. Deverell backed up and spun the truck around so it faced Victor and the entrance tunnel just as the other Sentry released a concussive blast, knocking the beasts over and making the truck shake like a leaf in the wind.
Deverell steadied the vehicle with his good hand as Victor stumbled toward it, visibly weakened, and collapsed into the backseat beside his wolfdog. “I rewired the door control,” he panted, “so the gate’s wide open. Go!”
They took off. Glancing at his rearview mirror, Deverell’s throat tightened. The beasts had regained their feet—even the one he’d stabbed with multiple tranquilizers. A full grown human would have died from two doses.
Deverell stepped on the gas and refused to look into the mirror again.
32
The guards at the Sanctuary’s exit were waiting with rifles leveled. As the truck neared they le
t loose a torrent of bullets, striking the fenders and hood, and shattering the windshield. From the backseat, Victor reached forward and pushed Deverell’s head down, shielding him from flying glass and bullets. He made a grab for the wheel but was thrown back as the younger Sentry stomped on the gas pedal. “Let me drive!” Victor barked.
“Like hell! You’re not fit!”
“Says the guy with one functioning arm!”
When the guards realized that the truck would not slow down, they threw themselves out of its path.
Victor grabbed onto Deverell’s headrest to keep himself steady. “Move over!”
“Have you lost your—”
“That’s an order, Vaughn!”
Deverell knew better than to argue when he heard that tone. Keeping one hand on the wheel and a foot on the gas, he slid into the passenger seat. Victor climbed over the center console and moved in behind the wheel, but the hasty handoff of the controls made the truck veer and slip in the mud. He wrestled with the vehicle as it fishtailed down the road between the hills, half-blinded by the slush flying onto him through the gaping hole where the driver’s door had been.
He squinted into the rearview mirror, unused to natural light after days underground, and grew wide-eyed. The pursuing beasts closed the gap between them with every ten-foot leap. So those are the Marauders we’ve heard about, he thought. Sure are ugly!
“How are they catching up so fast?” Deverell exclaimed as he ripped off part of his stolen uniform to bind his injured arm. He took another look into the mirror on his side, then suddenly cackled.
“That’s an outrageous sound to hear in our predicament,” Victor muttered.
“Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. I swear I’ve seen this movie before.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?!”
The leading Marauder, with tranquilizer needles sticking out of its damaged eye, drew even with the truck’s rear. It nudged the vehicle with its muzzle, executing a PIT maneuver that sent the truck into a spin, flinging sludge and mud everywhere. The vehicle spun thrice before coming to a standstill—facing the oncoming beasts. Deverell cried out. “Vic!”
