Dead Streets n-2

by Tim Waggoner

  "You know, Malik, finding me isn't the same thing as catching me."

  I can't draw a gun as fast as I could when I was alive, but what I now lack in speed I make up in technique. I had my. 45 out and aimed at Malik's chest before he could react. At least, that's what I told myself. But then he laughed and I knew the only reason he hadn't attacked was because he didn't consider my weapon a threat.

  "You can't hurt me with that thing," he said, sounding half amused, half insulted.

  "You know the kind of ammo I pack is tailormade to put a hurt on just about any creature walking, stalking or sliming its way through the streets – and that includes you."

  "Ordinarily that would be true. But you're carrying a. 45 instead of your usual 9mm. My guess is your regular piece – along with your homemade ammo – was taken away before you were tossed into Tenebrus and what you got there is a replacement. Besides, you forget who you're talking to." He sniffed the air a couple times. "I can smell that the bullets are normal."

  "Oh, well. Can't blame a guy for bluffing." I raised my gun barrel several inches and fired, emptying the contents of my weapon into Malik's face.

  Greenish-black blood splattered into the air and Malik staggered backward, though he didn't fall and he didn't cry out, though the injuries he suffered had to hurt like hell. I aimed for his head because brain tissue is complex and takes more time to regenerate. It would be a few moments before Malik regrew enough of his brain to get his shit together and attack, giving Devona and me a few precious seconds in which to act.

  As Malik leaned over, hands on his face to hold as much of it together as possible while he healed, blood streaming onto the sidewalk, I quickly glanced at the oncoming traffic and saw what we needed. I sent a mental image to Devona of what I wanted her to do and she stepped forward and grabbed hold of one of Malik's arms. Devona may be short and slender, but she packs a lot of muscle into her small frame and she hurled Malik into the street as if he weighed no more than a child.

  As I said earlier, traffic was light that night, but "light" doesn't mean "nonexistent," and Malik landed directly in the path of a silver Volkswagen Beetle covered with long sharp spikes. He still hadn't recovered enough from the gunshot wounds to his face to think clearly, and instead of getting out of the car's path, he rose to his feet and just stood there bleeding onto the street, and the VW slammed into him at full speed. Malik let out a – pardon the pun – piercing shriek of agony as he was impaled on the VW's hood spikes. The impact caused the car to swerve, but it didn't stop. The driver – who was completely hidden from view due to the spikes – managed to straighten the VW out and zoomed off with Malik still pinned screaming to its hood. One thing Nekropolitans can always be counted on for – wherever they're going, they're in a hurry to get there and they don't let anything slow them down. Certainly nothing as inconsequential as a body stuck to their car.

  I started to reload my gun while we watched the VW speed away, carrying Malik with it.

  "Nice throw," I said to Devona.

  "Nice shooting," she said. "That won't stop him for long, you know."

  "He won't be able to heal fully until he pulls himself off those spikes. We'll be long gone by then."

  "He's not going to be too thrilled with you when he does finally get free."

  I sighed. "At this point, what's it matter if I make one more mortal enemy?"

  "True," she said.

  Just then a vehicle came swerving erratically down the street toward us and Devona and I automatically stepped back from the curb. When we saw the vehicle was Lazlo's cab we stepped back a couple feet farther, just to be cautious. Good thing, too, because when Lazlo pulled up he parked halfway on the sidewalk. The cab's windows were rolled down and he leaned out to speak to us.

  "Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe how many people have been tailing me since Quillion announced the bounty on you. Even with all my considerable driving skills it took me a while to shake them."

  Lazlo might have had an easier time of it if his cab wasn't one of the most recognizable vehicles in the city. But I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I didn't say anything.

  "You're sure you managed to shake them?" I looked up and down the street, but since no vehicles roared up to the curb, bounty hunters hanging out of open windows with their guns blazing, I figured we were safe enough for the moment.

  I turned to Devona. "What do you think?"

  "I think we're going to have people gunning for us whether we walk or ride. Riding's faster."

  "Good point."

  Devona and I climbed into the back of Lazlo's cab and I told him to take us to Nosferatomes. I'd barely gotten the words out of my mouth when Lazlo tromped on the gas and his vehicle surged away from the curb. The sudden acceleration threw Devona and me against the back seat.

  "I'm all for speed right now, but can you take it a bit easier?" I complained.

  "Sorry about that," Lazlo said. "My cab's kind of jittery after playing tag with so many other vehicles tonight – Dread Rider, the Chopper, Velocicide… It's a wonder she hasn't had a nervous breakdown by now." Lazlo patted the dash and the cab's engine – which up to this point had been running at a high-pitched whine – began to purr and the vehicle slowed to a slightly less than lethal speed.

  "Some heavy hitters there," Devona said, sounding worried for the first time since breaking me out of Tenebrus. I wanted to reassure her that everything was going to be all right, but as I was starting to have major doubts myself, the best I could do was take her hand and give it a squeeze. It wasn't much but she gave me a grateful smile anyway.

  Lazlo glanced at us in his rearview mirror. "I like what you've done with your hair, Devona. And Matt, I love the new coat! You finally look like a real PI, you know what I'm saying?"

  Right then I vowed that I was going to find a way out of this mess no matter what, if only so I could celebrate by burning that goddamned coat to ashes.

  Lazlo went on. "I saw you tangling with someone when I drove up. Who was it?"

  "Crossbreed," I said.

  Lazlo let out a low whistle. "He's a tough customer. Looked like you managed to get the drop on him, though."

  "We were lucky," I said with no false modesty. I didn't like relying on luck, but I figured I was going to need a few tons more of it before everything was over.

  "Speaking of lucky," Lazlo said, "I was sitting in Skully's when Acantha's surprise broadcast came on. Everyone in the bar immediately started making bets on how long it'll be before you're recaptured. Most people figured you'll be back in Tenebrus within twenty-four hours."

  "Their confidence in me is underwhelming." I changed the subject. "I'm glad to see you hale and hearty. Quillion led me to believe one of his Sentinels worked you over."

  Lazlo didn't say anything to that. He just kept driving. After leaving the House of Mysterious Secrets he drove us to Sybarite Street, the Sprawl's main drag, and we headed toward the west side of the Dominion, where Nosferatomes was located. When he eventually spoke again his tone was subdued.

  "A Sentinel did question me and it… wasn't gentle. I healed OK. I mean, I am a demon, right? But it hurt so much that I…"

  I knew what Lazlo was trying to say. He'd told the Sentinel I was at the Foundry, which was how Silent Jack had been able to hunt me down.

  "Don't worry about it," I said. "They'd have found me eventually no matter what. I'm just sorry you had to go through that on my account. I'm glad no permanent damage was done, though."

  Lazlo said his next words so softly I wasn't certain I'd heard them at all. But it sounded like he said, "Not to my body anyway."

  Lazlo looks so monstrous that it's sometimes too easy to forget that he has feelings like anyone else. He might be a demon but that didn't mean he wasn't human too – at least, in the ways that mattered most. I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but before I could think of anything the ratcheting sound of automatic weapons fire cut through the cab, followed by a metallic pinging as rounds str
uck the outside of the vehicle.

  Lazlo's cab screamed then, and of all the horrible sounds I've heard since coming to Nekropolis, that's one I hope to never hear again.

  The cab swerved wildly and Lazlo fought to maintain control of his vehicle.

  "We're under attack!" Devona shouted.

  That part I'd figured out for myself. What I didn't know yet was by who. I turned to look out the rear window and saw a midnight-black Cadillac with glowing red headlights and a hood mounted machine gun riding our tail.

  "Damn it, it's Carnage!" I shouted.

  Lazlo's cab made a noise that sounded a lot like a terrified whine. I knew exactly how she felt.

  There are any number of possessed, haunted or living vehicles traveling the streets of Nekropolis – Lazlo's cab among them. So many that once a year the Screaming Wheels tournament is held, a cross-Dominion road race whose course traverses the entire city. But of all the supernaturally animated cars, motorcycles and trucks, none are as powerful or deadly as Carnage. As legend has it the Caddy's owner died behind the wheel of his vehicle and his spirit – instead of going on to its final reward – merged with the car, bringing the vehicle to malevolent life. Standard stuff, really, but what made Carnage different to the average possessed car is that it – he? – didn't want to exist as a haunted vehicle and so over the years he had consulted any number of magicusers and exorcists in the hope that one of them would be able to remove the spirit from the Cadillac and set it free. But for some unknown reason no one had ever been able to draw the human spirit forth from the vehicle. Even Papa Chatha had taken a crack at it and failed. But Carnage was determined to find some way to become free of his cursed existence. Rumor had it that Carnage had attempted suicide numerous times, but as is so often the case with supernatural vehicles, all damage it suffered was magically repaired. So that left Carnage with one option: keep trying to find a magicuser powerful enough and skilled enough to set him free.

  Trouble was magic doesn't come cheap in Nekropolis and Carnage needed money in order to continue hiring witches and warlocks and so the living vehicle had be come a mercenary, taking on high risk, high reward jobs to make enough darkgems to afford the cost of exorcism spells. And if a job was so dangerous that Carnage was finally destroyed during it, well, that was OK too. Just as long as the spirit trapped within the Caddy's metal body was free in the end. Of course, in order to do his work more effectively, Carnage had used some of his profits on upgrades like a high performance engine, a steel reinforced suspension system and his ohso-useful machine gun. After all, as the saying goes, you have to spend money to make money.

  What all this added up to was an insanely dangerous self repairing haunted car with nothing to lose and at that moment the damned thing was hot on our trail.

  I knew that Lazlo's cab could heal a certain amount of superficial damage on its own, but anything more than that would require extensive repairs. The cab was a tough little car, but I knew it couldn't withstand a full out attack by Carnage.

  "Try and lose him!" I shouted to Lazlo.

  "Lose him?" the demon shouted back. "I'll be lucky if I can keep us on the road!"

  "Just do your best!"

  I started rifling through my pockets, searching among the magic items Shrike had brought me, hoping that there was something I might be able to use to at least slow Carnage down. Devona did the same, and while we searched, Carnage unleashed another burst of gunfire.

  Devona and I ducked as the rear window shattered. Lazlo's cab screamed in pain and swerved violently to the left, right into the path of oncoming traffic. I caught a momentary glimpse of a large semi truck with a grinning green goblin face on the cab coming straight at us. I thought the truck was going to slam into us and deprive Carnage of his bounty, but Lazlo managed to yank the cab's steering wheel to the right in time to avoid colliding with the truck and the goblin face seemed to laugh at us as the huge vehicle roared past.

  I noticed the cab was slowing down and the engine began to make unsettling sputtering noises. I assumed some of that last burst of gunfire had done more to the cab than simply break some glass and I wasn't sure how much longer Lazlo's vehicle would be able to keep going before it would be forced to pull over. Not long, I guessed.

  Devona and I were still searching among our paltry supply of weaponry but in the back of my mind I was already considering giving myself up. Carnage wouldn't hurt me. He needed me more or less intact in order to collect the bounty on me. But when the possessed Caddy was on a mission it wasn't particular about who got hurt in the crossfire, hence his name. If this kept up there was an excellent chance that Devona and Lazlo would end up seriously injured, maybe even dead, and I wasn't about to let that happen simply to save my own slowly rotting hide.

  I was about to tell Lazlo to pull over when Devona held up what appeared to be a ball made of woven black twigs.

  "Got it!" she said, grinning.

  It was one of the items I'd passed on when we'd looked through them in Westerna's, primarily because I hadn't recognized it and didn't know what it did. But before I could ask Devona what she had she turned around and chucked the object out the now open back window. The ebon twigball flew through the air toward Carnage's windshield. The ball looked solid enough, but when it hit the glass it flattened like liquid and expanded to cover the entire windshield. It then seemed to sink into the glass as if the Caddy was absorbing the black substance and then it was gone and the windshield was clear once more.

  The effect was instantaneous. The machine gun's barrel drooped and Carnage began to slow down, swaying gently from side to side.

  "What was that?" I asked.

  Devona was still grinning. "Caligari's Sleep. It's a common spell used by Bloodborn who either haven't developed their hypnotic abilities or are simply too lazy to use them. The spell makes its victim sleepy and open to suggestion."

  "Kind of like a daterape drug," I said. "Classy." Still, I couldn't argue with the effect it was having on Carnage. The car didn't have a flesh-and-blood body, but the spell must've been designed to affect a victim's psyche regardless of what form that psyche resided in, because it was clearly working. But the question was for how long.

  Despite its name, Caligari's Sleep didn't render Carnage unconscious, just really, really sleepy. The deadly vehicle might not have been shooting at us anymore but neither had it broken off its pursuit. Carnage's glowing red headlights had dimmed and the vehicle was moving more slowly and swerving back and forth, but it was still managing to keep up with us. It didn't help that Lazlo's cab wasn't moving very fast at that moment either. Vehicles began passing us, drivers honking angrily and making obscene gestures as they flashed by. Several made mystic passes with their hands as if trying to lay a curse on us for pissing them off. They needn't have bothered. Given the way things had been going for me lately, I figured I'd already exceeded my bad luck quota for the next several decades at least.

  Right then I wished that Shrike had brought me a bazooka instead of a. 45 and I was amusing myself by imagining firing one at Carnage through the open back window when Lazlo said, "Great, that's all we need!"

  Devona and I looked forward to see what he was talking about. Before us in the middle of the street was a massive misshapen being that resembled a small mountain formed entirely of flesh. Hundreds of legs – some human, most not – stuck out from its bottom to support its weight and provide locomotion, while the rest of the creature's surface was covered with other body parts: hands, arms, chests, abdomens, genitals, buttocks and worst of all, heads. Gazes blank, mouths gaping wide, tongues lolling, drool streaming past their lips. This was one of the strangest creatures in Nekropolis and probably the single most annoying one.

  The Conglomeration.

  No one knows where it came from, what it wants, or for that matter, exactly what the damned thing is. What it does is wander randomly through the city, absorbing anyone unlucky enough or stupid enough not to get out of its way in time. Mostly, the Darklords tolerate t
he Conglomeration's presence since in many ways it's like evolution in action, absorbing both the slow of foot and slow of mind. But whenever it gets too large – and it certainly appeared to be on the verge of that now – the physicians at the Fever House are alerted and they dispatch a specially designed ambulance to capture the Conglomeration and bring it to the facility where they begin the painstaking and laborious process of separating the people that had been absorbed. The story goes that when the doctors finally finish there's never anything left over that's wholly and completely the Conglomeration. It's like the creature doesn't exist in and of itself. But a few days later, it – or a replacement – is back on the street, absorbing bodies again.

  "Can you go around it?" Devona asked.

  "Yeah," Lazlo said. "It's not that big yet, but it's blocking enough of the road to cause a real slowdown." He glanced up at the rearview. "I'm afraid it'll give Carnage a chance to catch up to us."

  "Which would be bad," I said. "Especially when it manages to shake off Caligari's Sleep." Something I feared would happen sooner rather than later.

  A thought occurred to me then. Carnage wasn't alive in the strictest sense of the word, but then concepts like life and death are more than a little fuzzy in Nekropolis. Carnage had a soul and could think and act independently. In many ways, the vehicle wasn't all that different from me. I was kind of alive, wasn't I? And I didn't want to get absorbed by the Conglomeration. And hadn't Devona told me that the recipients of Caligari's Sleep were highly suggestible?

  I didn't waste anymore time thinking about it, primarily because we didn't have anymore time. The traffic ahead of us had slowed considerably and it would only be a few moments more before Carnage, sleepy though he was, caught up to us.

  I turned around in my seat and leaned out the open back window. Before Devona could ask me what I was doing, I shouted, "Hey, Carnage! Don't tell anyone, but I'm hiding inside the Conglomeration!"

  The crimson glow within the possessed Caddy's headlights had almost gone out by then but now it flared back to full blazing strength. The vehicle's engine roared and Carnage surged past us, swerving around slower-moving cars as it aimed straight for the Conglomeration. Carnage's hood mounted machine gun raised into firing position and began blasting the Conglomeration with rounds of ammo. At first the gigantic fleshy mass of body parts didn't seem to notice it was under attack, but then the eyes of all its heads came into focus and turned to look at the vehicle firing upon it. Faces contorted in anger and cries of rage issued from all its mouths. Undeterred Carnage continued forward, gun blazing away. Alarmed motorists in the immediate vicinity began trying to pull their vehicles out of the line of fire and if they found their way blocked by other cars and trucks they simply bailed out and ran for it. Lazlo lifted his foot off the gas and allowed his cab to slow down, which turned out to be an extremely wise move when a furious Conglomeration threw itself forward and fell down on top of Carnage.