by Anthony Izzo
“If you want to stay, you’ll have to behave,” the clerk said, and stormed across the lobby.
Mike, propping up his mother, said, “What was his problem?”
“Didn’t like our proposed method of entry, I guess.”
Milo looked at Agnes, who was wilting. “I’ll get a blanket and a pillow for your mom. Wait here.”
Milo crossed the large lobby, which had a gurgling fountain at its center. The marble floors made everything echo. Near the front desk, a group of people surrounded a television set. He stopped and said, “What’s the news?”
A balding man whose suit looked like it had been pulled from a packed suitcase said, “It’s everywhere. Look.” He pointed to the television, as if Milo didn’t know where to cast his gaze.
The view on the screen was from a television camera at about waist level. It appeared the cameraman was crouching down, perhaps trying to stay out of sight. The camera showed the HSBC arena. On fire. Flames shot from the windows that overlooked the atrium. Curls of smoke snaked into the sky. That wasn’t the worst. It was the dead, stacked and piled on top of one another. A tangle of arms and legs and blood and viscera. Around the stacks of corpses, the attackers (Milo had no better way to think of them) speared and hacked the dying. The grunts and shrieks of the things came through the television speakers, along with the ragged breathing of the cameraman. How many dead? How many had gone out for a night downtown, maybe hitting Hemingway’s or the Pearl Street Grill before the game, never expecting?
Milo turned away from the set.
He went to the desk and asked for a pillow and blanket. A clerk was kind enough to bring him one.
When he returned, Mike’s mom was stretched out on a sofa in the lobby. Mike crouched at her side. Milo handed him the pillow and he placed it behind her head. While he did this, Milo spread the blanket over the woman. She muttered a raspy “Thanks.”
“What’s on the tube?”
“The HSBC’s up in flames. It’s a slaughter outside there.”
“Oh my gosh. The hockey game,” Debbie said.
Milo said, “There were hundreds dead, and that’s just what I saw on the TV.”
Mike sprang up from his squatting position. “Where’s the fucking National Guard in all this? Why aren’t we blowing these fucks into the next dimension?”
Milo didn’t know the answer to that. Given the strangeness of the attackers, he didn’t even know if weapons would be effective. From what he had seen, they looked like Halloween creatures come to life. They weren’t from this zip code, that was for sure.
“Get some Apache choppers in here, air support, tanks. Hell, dig up Hank Fonda and John fucking Wayne and get them in here, too!”
Now the other patrons in the lobby were staring at Mike, and with good reason. Jacket unzipped, chest bare, he ranted like a televangelist looking for donations.
“Why are we just sitting here? Why don’t we go out and fight them? Tell me that.”
“You’ve seen what’s happened so far. Who says we can fight them? Look at the body count,” Debbie said. “And what we’ve seen is probably just a fraction of it.”
“Doesn’t this piss you off? I’m angry!” he said, and kicked the couch.
“Really? I didn’t notice,” Milo said.
“It scares me,” Debbie said. “You scare me.”
“I’m not the one wasted a bunch of people on Chippewa Street, honey.”
Milo intervened. “That’s enough, Mike.”
“Don’t tell me it’s enough—”
From the couch, a weak voice said, “Michael, shut your mouth. You’re upsetting people.”
“This is 9/11 all over again. Worse.”
“This is nothing like 9/11,” Milo said.
“How can you say that?”
“It’s worse. We don’t know what we’re up against. And it appears to be citywide, not just a building or two.”
Mike’s gaze went to Debbie, then to Milo. “Still, where’s the National Guard? Shouldn’t we be fighting back?”
“I’m not sure we can,” Milo said.
“What do you mean?”
“You saw what was across the street, didn’t you? The things that came out of the parking ramp?”
“Quit calling them ‘things.’ ”
“They’re not men. You didn’t see them smash through the windows at the Alligator.”
“We’ll see what a nine millimeter has to say about it. I’ll find out if they’re flesh and blood.”
He could see Mike was intent on doing damage to those who besieged his city. Arguing with him further would serve no purpose. “Yeah, we’ll see. Let’s try and get some rest, okay?”
“Yeah, rest. Hopefully your ‘things’ won’t show up here.”
Milo sat in an overstuffed armchair across from the couch. His head was starting to hurt.
CHAPTER 21
The horde surged forward—grunting, yelling, screeching. They met the steel doors of the armory with a terrific thud. The clang of their weapons as they beat the door rang through the night. From below, Jenny heard gunfire pop. The guns wouldn’t kill them, but might slow them down long enough for Frank to arrive.
The others in the tower joined her. She looked up at the sky. Could’ve had a nice apartment, maybe with a view of the Space Needle. Sipping Starbucks lattes and watching the rain go splat on the windows of a coffeehouse. Or whatever it was you did in Seattle. That would have been comfortable, nice. But no help to her fellow Guardians.
She looked up. One of the winged creatures dove at the far turret and a streak of Light shot up and caught it square. It whirled off to the side, flapping its wings, smoking and flaming. It spun off into some tall pines and disappeared. Score one for the good guys, she thought.
Down below, the Guardians who had taken up positions at the windows began to fire blasts of Light at the attacking horde. The beams flashed and popped and soon curls of smoke rose up from the smoking bodies. Jenny caught a whiff of the burnt, dead flesh and had to stifle a gag.
She heard shrieking, and now a dozen of the airborne creatures dove, wings pinned back, whipping through the sky. Two of them streaked toward Jenny’s turret. Coming fast.
When they were about thirty feet overhead, she raised her arm and warmth went through it. A bolt of Light shot out and smoked one of the creatures. It hit the rooftop, smoldering, and lay still. The other swooped in low and swiped with a claw; Jenny felt the air whoosh past. She looked at the other Guardians, who had also ducked and were leaning against the brick wall of the turret. “A little help would be nice,” she said.
Jenny looked up and saw the creature climb high, disappear into a cloud, and then return with rocket force. Now the others in the turret stood up. They fired a succession of beams that missed, flew past the approaching beast, and lit up the clouds like fireworks. Still the creature came, and when it seemed for sure it would crash into them, it pulled from its dive and lit out over the trees.
It took a moment before she realized what had happened. One of the men fell down hard on his rear end. Hands grasping his throat, blood poured over them and ran down his knuckles. A pleading look crossed his face, and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. The winged one had managed to slash his throat when it made the pass.
Now the blood came in a steady stream and Jenny started toward him, intent on getting him below. The blood pumped even harder and she suspected the creature hit something major in his neck. He fell sideways, still clutching his throat. Jenny knelt at his side. The other men and women stood watching.
“Open the trapdoor. We’ve got to get him downstairs,” she said.
But it was too late. The man gave one last choked gurgle, twitched once, and stopped moving.
Jenny got to her feet. “Stay sharp. They’ll be coming around again.”
She ventured a look across the roof. She counted five dead creatures on the rooftop. A look to the sky showed dozens circling. Two more broke from the loose circle and began a
descent toward the northwest tower. They seemed to prefer attacking in pairs.
From below, she heard the ping of metal on metal. How long before they got through those doors?
The wind kicked up, stinging her cheeks.
She was coiled tight, waiting for the one that had just attacked them to return. Looking to the skies, she didn’t see it circling or preparing to dive, only its brethren and the purple clouds.
The woman with her said, “Where did it go, the one that killed him?” She nodded her head toward the dead man.
“That’s what worries me,” Jenny said.
A quick scraping sound came from below them. Jenny saw a clawed hand grab the battlement and then the creature was hoisting itself over the edge. It went right for the woman. Leathery wings and an impossibly wide back facing Jenny, the demon grabbed the woman. It threw its horned head back and brought it forward with tremendous force. There was a pop-crunch and a short scream before Jenny saw the woman’s corpse fall to the ground. It had bitten off the top half of her skull and the pink-gray mush of her brains ran onto the stone. Jenny’s stomach lurched.
The other two men backed away from the creature. With one swipe of a claw, it gutted the first, and he went to his knees, holding his exposed innards. The second man, seeing this, attempted to climb the battlement and escape down the roof ladder. Raising its hand to the sky, the demon closed its fist around a club-shaped object that had not been there a moment ago. It slammed the weapon on the Guardian’s head. His skull caved in and the man fell to the floor.
Now it turned toward Jenny, club in hand. Its forked tail waved in the air behind the head, like a charmed snake. The eyes glowed like hot coals. She realized it was between her and the ladder that led to the roof. For a moment she considered the trapdoor, but the attacker would rip her to pieces before she could open it. If she made it across the roof to another turret, she may have a chance.
It stepped forward and she fired a short beam, catching it in the chest. The demon hissed and beat at the wound, smoke rising from where her bolt hit. She scrambled past it, climbed over the side, and found the ladder, which she took to the roof.
On the roof, she wove her way through air-conditioning and heating units, praying she wouldn’t stumble in the dark and become an easy target. She heard its feet hit the roof and took a glance. It was coming, club in hand.
She picked up her pace. A quick glance showed it gaining. The turret parallel to the one she vacated was too far. The demon would close the gap before she could reach it. A boxy air-conditioning unit was ten feet ahead. She scrambled around it and ducked down, peeking just enough so that she could see her pursuer. It charged forward and she prepared to unleash a beam, but it beat its wings and launched into the air, going up and over and landing behind her.
She whirled around to see it raise the club. Ducking low, she sidearmed a flat beam and it traveled along the ground and caught the beast’s ankle. The blast tore through flesh and bone, severing the foot, and the creature wobbled and fell to its knee. It shrieked.
She darted past, and it swiped at her, the blow missing.
From behind, she heard its wings beat the air and now she was closer to the turret. “Hey! Over here! Hey!” she yelled.
She saw the moonlight reflect on a face that peeked between the battlements. God, I hope they see me coming.
Jenny was aware of something bearing down on her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She wouldn’t have time to turn and fire at the beast. In the distance, more of them swooped down, attacking the turret where she was headed. She thought she heard someone say, “It’s Chen!”
And then she saw the bolt of Light flash from the turret, rising above her, and she heard a pop-sizzle sound as it connected with the target, the screech of the demon ringing in her ears, and someone yelling “Come on,” before the weight of it flopped on her and she was pinned to the rooftop with the creature on top of her legs.
It lay perpendicular to her, on its side. There was a smoking hole in its midsection. A rotting, burning smell rose from it, and its hot-coal eyes had gone dim. She shoved it, but it wouldn’t budge. She felt like an animal caught in a bear trap. If I have to gnaw off my own leg to escape, that’s really going to ruin my day.
She looked overhead and saw more of them begin to swoop down toward the roof. Toward her.
Now she saw them, oily shapes tearing out of the clouds, swooping toward the roof. Again she shoved the demon’s corpse, but she still couldn’t budge it.
She remembered Lily, her mother, also a Guardian, discussing the great responsibility that came with these powers. Jenny had come to her at eleven, distraught after being startled by a spider that climbed into her bed. She had panicked, and when she was shooing the spider away, a streak of brilliant white light had flown from her fingertips and incinerated the spider. It had also set her sheets on fire, and her screams brought Lily running. Her mother grabbed Jenny out of the bed, fetched a bucket of water, and doused the flames. In the aftermath, she had held Jenny close, rocking her and stroking her hair. She had whispered, “You have been chosen, my daughter. You have a gift. And someday you will do great things with it. But it will also come with a cost. Be careful.”
Apparently it had come time to pay. Now she sat up, legs still pinned. Two of the demons pulled up and gently landed on the roof. Both of them formed spears, forging them from the darkness. Their black bodies glistened. The one on the right opened its mouth. A forked tongue rolled out, and it licked its lips. They were closing, perhaps fifty feet from her.
She cast a beam at the one on the right, but her shot only grazed its wing.
They sped up their pace, their leathery wings bouncing as they moved. This would be her last stand. She might be able to get one of them.
To her surprise, they blew right past her. Twisting her back, she turned around as far she could. Behind her, the Guardians who had been in the turret were coming. A blast rocked one of the demons, putting a hole in its wing. Two more beams cut down one of them. The other reached the group of Guardians, and Jenny watched with horror as it drove its spear through one of the men, lifted him up on it, and flung the screaming victim over the side of the building. The others quickly cut the beast down.
The group, four of them, reached Jenny. A man with a wild red beard and a ponytail—she thought his name was Myron—crouched next to her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Uh, been better. How about getting this stinking thing off me?”
“You got it.”
“Thanks for coming for me, Myron.”
He gave her a wink. The other men, all looking as if they could play defensive line for the Steelers, grabbed the dead creature. She recognized a few of them from the construction site where a new First Penn Bank was being put up. They lifted the corpse and tossed it aside.
Myron, he of the wild beard, grabbed her arm and helped her up. Pins and needles danced in her legs. She did a few quick jogging motions and then they all ran to the turret before anything else swooped from the sky.
Once behind the turret walls, Jenny saw the damage: two blood-slicked bodies, facedown.
Myron was watching her and said, “They came in real fast. Sliced them up and were gone cat-quick.”
“I don’t know how long we can hold the roof,” Jenny said.
A thump came from below, on the trapdoor. Myron crouched and opened the door. It was the ruddy face of Emma Cloon, smudged and sweat-soaked. Emma hauled herself up and Myron shut the trap door.
“What is it?” Jenny asked.
“We need help. They’re breaking through the front doors.”
“Those doors are solid steel,” Jenny said.
“Their weapons are cutting right through.”
“We’ll come,” Jenny said. “Go to the northwest tower, from inside. Tell them I said to come down and help defend the doors.”
Emma said, “You’re going to leave the roof practically unguarded.”
&n
bsp; “Don’t see much difference either way. Either we fight them up here or down there.”
“That’s not very optimistic,” Emma said.
“I’m hoping the Reverend gets here quick. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter where we fight. Follow me.”
With that she opened the trapdoor and led them down the ladder.
Frank and Ruby reached the edge of town. The ribbon of highway that became Routersville’s main drag was littered with bodies, wrecked cars, and broken glass. Frank saw the mass of Dark Ones at the armory doors. Their grunts and yells echoed down the road. Above the armory, winged creatures dipped and dove. He heard moans and screams coming from the town, as if it were undergoing one massive agony.
Those noises troubled him, but there was another that troubled him more at the moment. The blat-blat of a motorcycle engine. He turned and in the distance saw a lone headlight coming toward them. It was the last biker, the one who had stopped to help his wounded buddy back near the clubhouse.
Ruby turned and saw it, too. “He’s coming fast.”
“I don’t think I can hit him moving that fast,” Frank said.
“I can’t until he gets closer.”
Along the road were drainage ditches, and that was their best chance for an ambush. Assuming the biker hadn’t spotted them on the road. “Duck into the ditch,” Frank said.
He led the way, scrambling down the bank. His chest burned and his head was a throbbing ache. He made his way into the ditch and Ruby followed. The headlight slowed. It came within a couple hundred feet. Frank and Ruby plastered themselves against the ditch wall, heads below road level.
The engine quieted and cut out. Frank heard boot heels clicking on the road.
“Oh, my,” Ruby whispered.
“Stay still.”
He tried desperately to press himself into the earth, make himself invisible.
The steps came closer. A voice said, “Come out of there. Now.”
There was no sense trying to hide. The biker must have seen them on the road. Frank stood up, his pants now sopping and caked with mud. Ruby did the same.
