Cloak Games: Tomb Howl

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Obviously,” said Morelli. “Miss Stoker?”

  I sighed, nodded, and checked the line clipped to the harness I wore over my coat. The line connected to a spool of cable and a powerful winch. Since there might be planes overflying us and I didn’t want anyone to see my face, I donned a pair of tinted goggles and a ski mask. Once that was done, I picked up one of the explosive jerry cans, gripping it with both hands.

  “Remember!” I said, shouting over the roar of the rotors. “Three tugs and I want to come back up.”

  Morelli nodded and moved to the winch controls, and I jumped out the side door of the helicopter. I only fell about three feet or so, swinging at the end of the line, and I cast the Cloak spell. As I vanished from sight, Morelli started the winch, and it began unspooling, lowering me towards the ground.

  A few moments later, I was back on the streets of downtown Chicago, the undead milling around me.

  They didn’t see me. One of the undead walked into me, and I almost dropped the bomb, but the undead creature didn’t seem to notice the impact. Unless the myothar was actively controlling them and directing their movements, the undead were not all that bright. I watched the creature for a moment, but it kept wandering through the street, reciting cryptic riddles to itself.

  I hid the bomb under the rusted shell of an ancient car and gave the steel cable three sharp tugs. A few seconds later it jerked, and Morelli started winching me back into the helicopter. I had learned something else interesting about the Cloaking spell – it could completely block radio signals. Which meant my cell phone didn’t work, and I couldn’t radio Morelli over my headset to tell him to winch me back up.

  I suppose that could be useful. If I figured out how to Cloak a car, I could drive undetected through speed traps. Though driving an invisible car was an excellent way to get into an accident.

  I pushed aside the idle speculation and dropped my Cloak spell as I swung back into the helicopter.

  “The bomb’s in place!” I shouted, tapping my headset.

  “Proceeding to beta point,” said Vass, and the helicopter moved forward.

  “Did they notice the bomb?” said Morelli.

  “They didn’t,” I said, looking at the street. “I hid it under a wrecked car. The myothar might notice the bomb if it happens to go past, but I think we should be set.”

  “Approaching beta point,” said Vass.

  “Ready for another?” said Morelli.

  “Oh, sure, why not?” I said.

  In the end, we placed twenty-seven bombs before Morelli said we had to return to Gary to refuel. It was just as well, since I needed a rest from casting the Cloak spell over and over. Going up and down the line so many times was making me giddy as well. After decades jumping from rooftop to rooftop in the Eternity Crucible, I had a robust inner ear and a strong stomach, but there were limits.

  And I still had trouble with solid food. So maybe my stomach wasn’t all that strong after all.

  The next day, we went back and placed the rest of the bombs. Morelli set up an application on his phone that let him dial the bombs’ phones one at a time, in groups, or all at once for one massive fireball. He didn’t let me have access to the application, and I didn’t ask.

  Instead, I set up my own bomb.

  I helped myself to one of his thermobaric grenades, wired it to a phone and a jerry can of gas, and hid it in the cargo compartment of the helicopter. That was insurance. As much as I didn’t want to be here, I was just as sure that Nicholas didn’t want me to be here, no matter how much he needed my skills. Depending on what he found in Secretary Shane’s briefcase, he might decide to dispense with my services for future endeavors. And what better way to get rid of me than to leave me behind in the ruins of Chicago after we looted the tomb?

  The extra bomb was a bargaining chip. In case Nicholas decided that, alas, he had been forced to leave me behind in his scramble to escape from Chicago.

  Or if he decided to have Morelli shoot me with the machine gun. Because Corbisher had found a machine gun for the helicopter, a massive .50 caliber Gatling gun that could spray out a dozen incendiary rounds a second. He had found incendiary rounds that fit the weapon, along with bullets for .45 handguns and the M-99 carbines that Homeland Security used.

  “That,” I said, looking at the pallets of ammunition in the warehouse, “is a lot of bullets.”

  Corbisher looked smug. “It is indeed, Miss Stoker. Money can solve all manner of problems.”

  I almost pointed out that money couldn’t buy him new hair, but I exercised self-restraint. It was late, and after a day of planting bombs, I was tired, and I didn’t feel like yet another argument with Corbisher.

  “They won’t work on the myothar, though,” said Vass. “Not even incendiary bullets will work on Elves, and we must assume the same of the myothar.”

  Corbisher started to bark a disgruntled answer, but Nicholas smoothed over the argument before it could escalate. “They will, however, prove effective against the undead. Hopefully, if all goes well, we should not need to use too many of them, but it is better by far to prepare too much than to prepare too little.”

  “Yeah,” I said. It annoyed me how good Nicholas was at this kind of thing. It also annoyed me how much I enjoyed this kind of thing. Morvilind might have made me into a master thief, but there was no denying the fact that I enjoyed it, that I enjoyed pushing my wits and abilities to the maximum. If you’ve ever been good at something, anything, you’ll understand the feeling. You don’t even have to be the best as it because there is always someone better. But the feeling of pushing your abilities to the limit, of exerting yourself, is a good one.

  Except I was doing that in the service of a bad cause.

  Nicholas and I shared a glance, and I saw the amusement on his face. He knew I was enjoying this, and that I didn’t want to. And it annoyed me to no end that we knew each other well enough to have these silent communications.

  I turned my head and saw Hailey giving me a death glare.

  I think, in the end, she hated me not because I detested the Rebels and the Dark Ones and not because I hated Nicholas, but because I had the skills and self-control to be Nicholas’s equal in a way that she never could. How was that for messed up? I hated Nicholas and wanted to kill him. Hailey adored him and wanted to be the center of his universe.

  I suppose falling in love with someone like Nicholas Connor was its own punishment.

  “You’ve all performed excellently,” said Nicholas. “Be ready to leave tomorrow at seven AM. Because tomorrow we are going to take the first step on a course of action that will change the world and free humanity from the High Queen and the Elves.” His smile turned in my direction. “No matter how many collaborators try to stop us.”

  I smirked back at him. “Sounds like fun.”

  Chapter 13: Tomb Howl

  I woke up from a nightmare at 5 AM, showered off, and left my dingy little apartment wrapped in the Masking spell of Travis McHale. As usual, I altered my appearance a half-dozen times as I approached Nicholas’s compound, finally Cloaking for the last few blocks before the gate.

  That, of course, meant I appeared out of nowhere before the gate, which always annoyed the guards and Swathe to no end. Once they let me inside, I proceeded to the warehouse where Nicholas housed the supplies for this operation, and I equipped myself at his expense.

  He was paying for all of it, so I didn’t hold back.

  I buttoned up my coat, and I pulled on a flak jacket on top of it. None of the undead would shoot at me, and neither would the myothar, but Nicholas and his goons might. Around my waist, I wound a gun belt, and on either hip, I put a .45 Royal Arms semiautomatic, each one loaded with an extended seventeen-shot magazine of incendiary bullets. I also took an M-99 modified to fire incendiary rounds. The bullets would be bad for the guns, but they weren’t my guns, so I didn’t care. I took a pair of bandoleers and slung them over my flak jacket, stuffing their loops with additional magazines for the gu
ns and as many grenades as I could carry. When I was done, all that stuff was heavy, but that was why I exercised on a regular basis.

  It was just as well that I was so cold all the time, else all this equipment would have been excruciating in the August humidity.

  My burner phone rested in the right hip pocket of my coat, and the number for the phone wired to the helicopter bomb was the first contact.

  “What, are you going to overthrow the High Queen all by yourself?”

  I turned as Hailey approached. For once, her wardrobe was sensible. She wore cargo trousers, heavy boots, and a T-shirt. Her face was scrubbed of any makeup, her earrings and piercings had been removed, and her blond hair had been tied back in a tight bun to keep it out of her face. I had half-expected her to totter into battle on her high heels.

  “Probably not,” I said. “Bullets don’t work on the Elves, remember? Maybe I’ll hold up a liquor store instead.”

  “You’re insane,” said Hailey, and she began arming herself, though she didn’t take nearly as many guns as I had.

  “I’m about to fly into a ruined city filled with undead, so I’m not going to argue,” I said. “But you’re going with me.”

  “Don’t remind me,” said Hailey, adjusting her gun belt. “But I’m doing this for the glory of the Revolution and to free humanity. You’re just a mercenary.”

  I wanted to point out that she was doing this because she wanted Nicholas to be nice to her, but I refrained. Even I knew better than to provoke a woman loading an M-99 with incendiary rounds.

  One by one the others arrived. Vass and Swathe and Morelli began arming and equipping themselves with the ease of men long-accustomed to violence. Corbisher showed up a few minutes later. I noted with amusement that while he was wearing fatigues and body armor, everything he wore was slightly more expensive than what the others had. I wondered how much money he had squirreled away before the Inquisition had seized his assets after that mess in Minneapolis.

  There was no sign of Dr. Tocci. I suppose she wouldn’t be much use at this kind of thing. Even the Rebels needed someone to do the unglamorous work of patching up their wounded fighters.

  Nicholas arrived at exactly five minutes before seven AM, already dressed and armed, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “And ladies.” He inclined his head toward Hailey, who smiled at him, but he decided to ignore me. “Are we ready for action?”

  “The chopper is fueled and ready to go,” said Vass.

  “The bombs are ready,” said Morelli. He had his phone, and a backup phone with an identical configuration in case something happened to his main phone.

  “All the armaments have been loaded on the helicopter,” said Corbisher.

  “I am ready to man the machine gun,” said Swathe.

  “My spells are ready,” said Hailey.

  “Splendid,” said Nicholas. “Miss Stoker?”

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

  “Optimistic as ever,” said Nicholas, and Hailey laughed. “Vass, depart when ready.”

  We clambered into the helicopter. Vass took the pilot’s seat, and Morelli joined him in the copilot’s seat. I wondered if he knew how to fly a helicopter, and then I realized that he probably need to see which bombs to detonate when the time was right. Nicholas, Hailey, Swathe, and Corbisher climbed into passenger area, and I joined them. It was more crowded than my last trip with Morelli and Vass, partly because there were more of us, and partly because the machine gun took up so much space. It was a big gun, mounted on a swivel stand, and it pointed out the cabin door. The ammunition was belt-fed, and Corbisher had somehow come up with a belt of incendiary .50 caliber rounds. In the narrow streets of Chicago, Swathe could mow the undead down with ease.

  “Admiring Swathe’s gun?” said Nicholas.

  “He’s not my type,” I said. Swathe sneered at me. “If we use that thing, it’s going to draw the attention of the myothar.”

  “If we are forced to use that weapon,” said Nicholas, “I’m afraid the myothar will already have noticed us. Headsets, people.”

  We all donned our radio headsets and did a microphone check. Vass finished his preflight checklist, and the helicopter’s engines powered up with a whine. The chopper took to the air, the roar of the rotors filling my ears.

  I waited in silence as we flew over Lake Michigan, and then turned northwest about a mile or so from the shore. Corbisher might have been able to bribe the radar operators at nearby airports, but we couldn’t do anything about someone who might see us from the freeway or the state highways. Approaching Chicago from the lake seemed like the best bet.

  Speaking of secrecy, I reached into my pocket and drew out my ski goggles and my mask. After a moment’s fiddling, I got the goggles and the mask on, with my hair streaming out through the top above the goggles. The nice thing about the mask was that it kept my hair out of my face, but I didn’t have to bother with tying it. I suppose the wind made it look really dramatic.

  “Why did you do that?” said Hailey.

  “My face gets cold,” I said.

  She sneered at me but didn’t respond, probably because it wasn’t worth the effort of shouting over the roar of the rotors.

  In a few moments, the ruins of Chicago came into sight, the broken skyscrapers rising against the burning sky like jagged teeth.Willis Tower rose higher than them all, the eerie light of the twisted sky glinting off the remaining intact windows. Vass headed towards it, gaining altitude, and soon we were flying about two thousand feet above the surface of the lake. The city scrolled beneath us as we flew west, and then the top of Willis Tower with its two ruined antennae passed beneath the helicopter.

  From this height, it seemed as if tiny gray ants filled the street.

  Yeah, ants. Dangerous, undead ants with superhuman strength.

  “All right, boss,” said Vass. “We are approaching Willis Tower. Orders?”

  “Fly over Adams Street,” said Nicholas, checking his harness and his gear one last time. Morelli donned a heavy backpack carrying the explosives he would need to get through the bank vault door. “Morelli, get ready to detonate,” Nicholas squinted out the side of the chopper, “bombs nine through twelve, fourteen, and twenty-three through twenty-seven.”

  “Sequentially or simultaneously?” said Morelli, tapping on his phone.

  “Simultaneously,” said Nicholas. “That ought to clear a space in front of the tower’s main entrance. Swathe, get ready on the machine gun to clear any undead the explosions don’t destroy. Miss Stoker, since you’re so fond of fireballs, if you can hold your power ready to burn a few undead that would be helpful.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I gathered my magic, preparing to strike. The chopper veered around Willis Tower, flying over Wacker Drive and then Adams Street, near the entrance I had used to enter the skyscraper earlier. The undead below paid us no heed. They might be able to see heat, but they couldn’t hear. Else they would have heard the chopper hovering over them and blowing clouds of dust up from the street.

  “Morelli,” said Nicholas. “Now.”

  Morelli nodded and tapped a command into his phone.

  Nothing happened, and I wondered if we had made a mistake wiring up the bombs or if the myothar had a cell phone jammer or something.

  Then the bombs went off.

  It was just as well that I was wearing tinted goggles because those explosions were bright. Brilliant flares filled Adams Street, followed an instant later by a hot shockwave that buffeted the chopper. Vass barked a curse and swung the helicopter hard to the side, and managed to keep us from crashing into Willis Tower. I saw pools of flame blazing across Adams Street. They would be hot enough to keep any undead from getting through them for a few minutes, and their position sealed off the street in front of the entrance. That much heat would effectively blind the undead, making it impossible to see our own body heat against the radiant energy of the flames.

  “Put us
down!” said Nicholas. “Stoker, Morelli, get ready to move.”

  I nodded and braced myself.

  Vass dropped the helicopter faster than I would have liked, but the chopper landed on its skids without crashing. I let Nicholas and Morelli go first and then followed them. A dozen undead rushed towards us, though most of the remaining creatures had their attention on the infernos our bombs had created. Nicholas snatched the .45 from his gun belt and started shooting, and Morelli followed suit. An incendiary bullet through the forehead seemed enough to destroy the undead, but Nicholas and Morelli could only shoot so fast. I called my magic and cast a spell, a sphere of fire leaping from my hand and slamming through the skull of the nearest undead. It fell to the ground, a smoking crater where its head had been, and the sphere kept going, zipping through the heads of six more undead before the power unraveled.

  The last undead collapsed motionless to the ground, and behind us the chopper leaped back into the air, hovering above the street. Vass and the others would stay up there until we returned with the briefcase.

  “Go!” said Nicholas. “Miss Stoker, lead the way.”

  I didn’t like turning my back to Nicholas and Morelli, but I didn’t have much choice. I ran through the ruined entrance and headed for the escalator, Nicholas and Morelli a few steps behind me. I didn’t see any undead in the lobby, but the undead seemed to avoid the buildings unless the myothar ordered them inside.

  We hurried down the dead escalator and through the levels of the subbasement, one after another. The lights still didn’t work, so we produced flashlights. Nicholas and Morelli held their guns in their right hands and their flashlights in their left. I held my flashlight in the right, my left hand ready to cast spells since my magic was more destructive than a gunshot.

  Nothing challenged us as we descended. We passed through the parking levels without interruption, and then the massive HVAC rooms. At last, we reached the level with the bank vaults, and we hurried through the corridor lined with the doors of steel bars.