My heels ground into the dirt as I scraped my way backwards, unsure what was about to happen. If his melting power burned through and allowed the natural gas to escape before Dykovski fired, I’d have a chance at survival.
If all three of us didn’t go up in a fiery explosion, that was.
Dykovski twisted from side to side, reacting to this new attack. He spun around, his head turning as far as it could within the helmet. The armored arms flailed as he tried to reach the man now hanging on to the metal backpack for dear life.
A thundering whoosh filled the air, as if the biggest party balloon had just sprung a leak.
I spun around and pressed my head down in a vain attempt to at least have a face for them to bury. Dirt puffed up into my eyes as I exhaled, my gloved hands tight over the back of my head.
One second.
Two seconds.
The third second was the charm.
A wave of heat poured over me, searing the leather from my heels to my hands. I smelled burning hair and rolled over, slapping at my ponytail to extinguish any fiery strands.
The second odor was much more disturbing.
Burning flesh.
I’d smelled it once, a thousand lifetimes ago, when I worked hospital security for a blessedly short few months. Ambulances filled with rooming house fire victims racing into the ER, the unmistakable reek of charred and flaking skin digging into my nostrils and never leaving.
I looked up at the armored suit in front of me.
Dykovski staggered backwards. The flamethrower on his left arm was gone, the nozzle ruptured. My befuddled mind guessed one of the random sparks had set off whatever had been left in the hose while the rest of the natural gas escaped through the holes Harris had created.
The damage wasn’t enough to pry Dykovski out of his suit. Instead he spun around in a circle, wobbling, his arms impotently flapping away. He looked like a giant robot trying to do the chicken dance.
It would have been funny except for the man rolling in the dirt a few feet away, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“I’m blind!” Harris shrieked, both hands over his face. Small wisps of smoke rose from his singed hair. His jacket had taken the brunt of the blast, the leather burned away in places to show the armor plating below, but he was alive.
“I’m coming.” Steve got to his feet, leaning on a nearby tree for support. “I’m coming for ya. Stay still.” He took unsteady steps forward, shaking his head to clear away the confusion. “Stay still.”
Dykovski turned towards me, his erratic movements slowing and stopping as he realized he wasn’t injured. His hands patted his chest and found no breach in the plating save the indentation from Steve’s punch.
He looked at the destroyed weapon on his arm with wide eyes, the disbelief showing. The splintered nozzle hung on his forearm by a metal thread, the warped metal jutting out in sharp prongs. The Guardian device was singed and burnt but still intact, the Agency attachment safe and sound.
“Fuck. I liked that.” He shrugged and drew back his right arm, fingers curled into a fist. “But I bet I can still crush your head like a cantaloupe in this armor.”
“Fuck you,” I gasped, not bothering to even try to stand.
“That’s what you want for your last words?” He chortled.
I knelt in the dirt and threw up my arms to shield myself from the oncoming attack, peeking between leather walls to see what happened.
A moose crashed into Dykovski on his right side, the terrified animal shoving the armored man to one side with little effort. The wide, panicky eyes met mine for a second before the creature charged by me, heading into the trees.
A pair of deer ran through the clearing, the animals fleeing the inferno threatening their home. The deer bounded around the two of us, following the moose into the forest.
Dykovski spun, disoriented by the dust clouds rising from the panicked animals.
“Peter.” I staggered to my feet and shuffled away from the confused Dykovski. “Where are you? We’re in the middle of a fucking Wild Kingdom crisis.”
Through the rising smoke I spotted Steve kneeling by Harris, helping him up. The strongman was talking to him, doing the same pep talk he’d given Thrasher to try to keep him calm.
Harris nodded, keeping his hands away from his injured eyes. The pain in my chest lessened a fraction at seeing him move. He wasn’t dead and that was a major point in our favor.
Dykovski continued to take awkward steps, like a newborn learning how to walk. The misshapen shadow twisted through the smoke and dust as he searched for someone to hurt.
“I’m in the middle of a stampede,” Peter shouted over the link. “This fire is spreading like, well, wildfire.” He coughed and choked for a second before continuing. “Hunter, what’s the ETA on a tanker drop or something?”
“Smokejumpers are on their way along with local fire departments,” Hunter said. “It’s a bitch getting into the area, that’s the holdup.”
“I think I can help a bit.” The soft words stood out in sharp contrast to the men’s low growls.
A light shower fell over us, the rain dousing some of the nearby fires and tamping down the dirt clouds. I looked up and licked my chapped lips, grateful for the momentary break in the heat.
Rachael descended towards us, riding a small whirlwind, smiling. Her hands were out to each side, fingers fluttering in the strange dance channeling her power. She spotted me and gave a firm nod.
Dykovski snarled and lifted his hand towards the sky, aiming the now-ineffective flamethrower at Rachael.
She paused for a second, standing on an invisible tower of air. A flash of fear shot across her features, making me think she was about to cut and run.
I wouldn’t have blamed her.
Rachael looked over to see Harris leaning on Steve’s arm, tears running down his burned face.
Steve patted him on the shoulder and whispered something to him, bringing out a forced laugh from the injured man. Steve’s expression seemed fuzzy, and I knew he wasn’t operating on full power yet—he was still groggy from the fight. His clotted right hand lay by his side, forgotten as he focused on dealing with Harris.
Scarlet burns crisscrossed Harris’s face, a crimson streak running across the top half of his head from his nose up over his nonexistent eyebrows and into his diminishing hairline. His eyes were closed and stayed that way.
Rachael’s lips twisted into a frown, the color returning to her pale face. Loose strands of blonde hair whipped around her head like an avenging angel’s halo.
She stared down at the angry ex-Guardian with his impotent weapon.
Dykovski yelled something, the words lost in the growing roar of the fire.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She made a gesture with her hand, the fingers twisting and flicking in the light breeze.
A burst of air sprang up under Dykovski, lifting him ten feet.
His feet kicked back and forth, rocking the metal suit like a massive bobble toy.
As quickly as it appeared, the wind ladder disappeared, dropping him back down to the earth in a loud crash. I winced, hearing the metal legs scream as Dykovski struggled to keep his balance.
He rose on invisible strings, arms flailing in a vain attempt to gain control.
Dykovski fell again, the power armor moaning and whining as rivets popped and seams tore apart. A dribble of hydraulic fluid became a flood, bleeding out into the growing crater in a puddle of mock blood.
He flew up once more, a limp toy under Rachael’s control. She snarled at the immobilized man, twisting him around like a rag doll.
“No more,” she said. “No more.”
A burst of wind threw his metal arms behind his back, stretching the joints to their limits. The sound of screaming metal reached my ears, the screeching tearing at my senses.
“Stop it,” Peter yelled over the link. “You’re fanning the flames when you do that.”
He materialized through the rising smoke at the edge
of the clearing, waving his hands. “The flames, you’re feeding them,” he shouted. “You’ve got to stop.”
I looked around us. The brief shower had forced the flames back only briefly. Now they continued their devastating march on us as the forest fire spread, aided now by Rachael’s use of her power.
A glance skyward showed the power armor was at its limits, small pieces of metal falling down on us. I couldn’t imagine the pain Dykovski was in, and a small part of me relished the sight.
“On his back,” I shouted. “Drop him onto his back.” I winced inside, remembering it was one of Mike’s biggest fears to be tossed on his back and trapped like a turtle. Suit designers never considered that problem because they never thought of anything other than the choreographed fights happening where Metal Mike stood by Surf, a loyal sidekick to my superhero persona.
With another wave of her hand, a gust hammered his left side, spinning him around like a top before vanishing. Dykovski yelled as he fell backwards into the small crater he’d created with his fall. I would have chuckled except for the smoke and dust clogging my lungs.
“That should slow him down.” Rachael landed next to me. Her face was red and sweaty, the strain of using her powers showing. “Are you okay?” She reached out and touched my shoulder.
“No.” I turned my head to one side and spat onto the ground, taking shallow breaths. “But it’ll have to do for now.”
Dykovski lay on his back, his faceplate fogged with heavy breathing. He rolled from side to side as he tried to get the momentum to stand up. His boot jets coughed for a second before giving up the ghost. The warped and misshapen metal plates whined with protest as he struggled to move. Various fluids bubbled up and away from the joints, the colored liquids mixing under him in a muddy mess.
“Okay, he’s down for the count. Hunter, give me an update,” I wheezed, staggering over to stand above Dykovski.
Dykovski glared at me. A trickle of blood ran down over his right cheek and into the helmet. “Get the hell away from me.”
“I’d love to do that, believe me.” I pointed at the nearby trees as they burned, the hungry flames reaching for us. “But we’re about to get third-degree tans. And it’s not a good show if we all die. Bad for the sequel.”
A coughing fit grabbed me and I fell onto my knees, grasping for the fresh air close to the ground. This was getting worse by the moment. I felt like I’d swallowed a thousand ghost peppers and washed them down with bleach.
“Make sure you cut the power to that armor. Just in case there’s any other tricks we don’t know about this bastard.” Hunter tried to sound professional, but I heard the stress in his voice. “I don’t want him taking you all out with him in a self-detonation.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mental image, my mind calling up New York City and the last time I’d seen Mike. My hand went to my chest, pressing hard to contain and control the memory. I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale, inhale. Exhale, inhale. The overwhelming heat helped push it back, the pain grounding me in the here and now.
“We got it, Hunter.” Steve took over. He must have seen my expression and guessed where my mind was. “I’ve got Harris here and we’re on it.”
A large hand patted my shoulder.
“Save your energy, boss lady. We got your back,” Steve murmured. His thick fingers pressed through the leather. “We’re here with you. You’re not alone.”
I nodded. A burst of almost clean air puffed up under my nose. I automatically inhaled, relishing the simple thrill.
“Good work, Rachael.” I covered my mouth as I coughed, my lungs grabbing at every bit of oxygen they could.
Harris, aided by Steve, staggered over to stand beside Dykovski. His eyes stayed closed, the burnt flesh an unearthly bright pink.
“Where’s the circuit box?” he said in a steady voice, stretching out his right hand.
Steve grabbed Dykovski’s shoulders and yanked him to one side, revealing the shredded backpack that used to hold the natural gas. The jagged metal shards jutted out, the edges dulled with the fall. “I can see it here, right against his spine.”
“Lead me in.” Harris wriggled his fingers. “I’ll burn that mother out in seconds.”
Dykovski struggled and reached out to grab someone or something, his metal fingers flexing in midair.
“Hold on.” Steve punched the helmet once with his goop-encrusted fist. Dykovski rocked around like a marble in a mug.
“Don’t. Move.” Steve tapped the faceplate. “I don’t have a problem with spinning you in there like a top.”
Dykovski’s face went a little green, but he stopped moving.
“You watch him. I’ve got this.” Peter took Harris’s hand and led it inside the ripped armor until it rested against Dykovski’s back. “Don’t take this like I’m making a pass at you or anything.”
Harris let out a coughing laugh. “I was hoping for Rachael.”
“Oh now you’re playing hard to get.” Peter laughed.
Harris’s fingers went bright red as he pressed them against the base of Dykovski’s metal spine, digging into the small blue box holding the main circuit board.
“Sing out when the power goes off. I can’t hear or smell anything,” he said.
A small burst of flame shot out around his hand, and the lights went off inside Dykovski’s helmet.
“It’s done.” Peter pulled Harris’s hand out. He spent a second wiping the carbon from the injured man’s fingers with the sleeve of his jacket. “You must be fun at barbeques. Steal all the good cuts of meat without needing tongs.”
“Don’t go sharing my secret.” Harris took a step back. “Do I have any eyebrows left?”
“Not a hair,” Peter replied. “But you’re still boyishly handsome.”
“Well, that’s something.” Harris leaned against Peter, the remnants of the black leather jacket threatening to fall off the overweight man.
“Hunter, we’ve just neutralized Dykovski.” I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my glove. “Tell Outrager to look for the money shot. I’m flying us the fuck out of here before we all fry.”
“Are you strong enough?” Hunter asked.
“Won’t know until I try,” I snapped. I rubbed my forehead again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I stopped the timer anyway.” Hunter chuckled. “I’m waiting for you. Got the tea all ready and just fluffed the pillows.”
“Be there as fast as I can.” I slapped my hands together, the leather gloves now swimming in sweat. “Forget the low and slow—I think I’m going fast and furious.”
Harris let out a strangled giggle.
The effort to grab and weave the electromagnetic waves around us released a raging headache, located as usual behind my left eye. The distraction of the increasing inferno surrounding us didn’t help, the team subconsciously moving closer and closer to Dykovski in his crater as the trees around us popped and burst under the fire’s onslaught.
Rachael put her hand up to her mouth and coughed, one of those lose-your-lung deep chokes. Peter patted her on the back and looked up into the smoky clouds above us.
Steve put a knee down on the immobilized ex-Guardian’s chest. “Don’t think about trying anything,” he said with a warning growl. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Dykovski didn’t move. He lay there in silence, the blinking of his eyes the only signal he was still alive. The stoic expression sent a cold shiver over my skin despite the rising temperatures.
“Rachael, you take Steve and Harris. I’ll take Peter and Dykovski. Straight up, straight out of here.” I moved into position, taking Peter’s hand with my left and grabbing on to the collar piece of the power armor. A shallow intake of smoke and I was more than ready to get out of there.
“Don’t do that,” Hunter interrupted, his words rushed and quick. “Rachael can’t fly. Any more use of her powers and it’s going to whip these flames so high they’ll cook all of you. If she cuts the treetops
, she won’t be able to handle the thermals. She might drop you right back into the fire if a bad wave hits her at the wrong time.”
Rachael looked at me, her forehead wrinkled with concern. “Did I make the fire worse?”
Dykovski’s laugh startled us all, the rolling rumbling rising to a high-pitched giggle. “Of course you did, you bitch. Now we’re all going to die, and it’s your fault.”
Steve kicked the suit, leaving a dent in the left side panel. “Shut up.”
“No. Don’t let him screw with you, not now.” I pointed at the paralyzed armored suit, my anger threatening to snap my self-control and destroy the invisible weave around me. “He fucked it up with those damned robots in the first place. And don’t get me going on what I’m going to do to Outrager when I get back to the bus.”
“I’m calling dibs after you,” Peter quipped.
Rachael gave him a thin smile, the shadow of Dykovski’s words vanishing from her face.
I nodded. “Okay, everyone get real close then. Harris, grab the back of my belt. Rachael, hold on to Steve’s belt with one hand, my belt with the other. I should be able to keep contact with Steve through you.” I squeezed Peter’s hand. “You just stay right there.”
Harris’s hand, wet and sweaty, pushed its way in under my belt. Rachael’s touch was light and careful, her manicured nails brushing against my bare skin.
“Steve, grab Dykovski’s foot. I don’t mind dragging him back upside down. Just don’t let go. I’d hate to leave a mess behind.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve’s fingers wrap around one armored leg. They dug into a joint, anchoring between cracked metal.
“I sort of wish I could see this,” Harris quipped, his voice high and nervous. His bare fingers wriggled against my spine.
I didn’t answer, too busy focusing on getting us out of there. The fire continued to rage around us. Scattered dry needles on the ground ignited, setting the dirt itself on fire.
We rose a few inches before the electromagnetic bubble collapsed and sent us slamming back down.
I gasped as the smoke swirled about me, my legs threatening to buckle under me.
Heroes Lost and Found Page 23
