by Tasha Black
He turned to inhale one last breath of comparatively fresh air, and then pushed in, pulling the door shut behind him.
Spoiled food littered the floor, and he could hear the rats scatter as he took the first step through the old shop. It looked like there might still be platters of what had once been meat behind the glass counter.
He turned his head, almost gagging, and headed down the cramped hallway.
The corridor was so narrow, that it felt as if the walls were closing in.
Between the smells and the oppressive walls, his head and stomach were reeling. For a brief moment he thought of Chewbacca in the garbage compactor scene of Star Wars, and had to stifle a nervous laugh.
Another step in, and the smells were even worse.
Dalton wasn’t sure he could go on. A prickling on the surface of his skin was making him shiver through a cold sweat. His thigh muscles cramped and loosened randomly.
Breathing slowly, he thought of West and kept moving. Just get to the back of the building, just see what’s here. Just one more step.
At the end of the hall he had a choice to make. A door led further back, probably to the loading dock at the back of the building.
Another opened onto a staircase leading downward, perhaps to storage.
He heard voices now. He closed his eyes and tried to place them, but he couldn’t get his bearings. Everything seemed to be spinning.
He needed to get outside again. If he could only bolt out that back door and into the night air…
No, no he would take a peek downstairs first. Once he got back in the open air, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to force himself back inside, no matter what was at stake. If West wasn’t down there, then he would dash out the back.
He descended the creaky stairs as quietly as he could, trying not to let his labored breathing echo off the walls. The very air pressed in on him now. His clothes scraped against his skin.
At the base of the stairs he looked around.
Rusted chains and meathooks hung from the ceiling. The back wall was lined with freezers.
There was no sign of anything human.
Unable to bear another moment, Dalton turned and started back up the stairs.
There was a sickening crunch as his foot went through a dry rotted stair tread.
Frantically, he grabbed at the rail to stop from falling, but it snapped cleanly, sending him over the side, flailing into the darkness.
39
West belly crawled under the metal grate and onto the loading dock. Once there, he lay still a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
The voices were very close now, but something wasn’t right about them. One was low and harsh, the other shrill.
He couldn’t put a finger on what made the argument sound off, so he stayed low and made his way to a stack of cardboard boxes.
“They don’t want you, they called you stupid!” the higher voice screamed.
“They said they wanted the tech. They told me they could fix me,” the deep, hoarse voice pleaded.
West peered out from behind the boxes.
What he saw turned his stomach.
Vince Palma paced the loading dock. He looked like something out of a nightmare.
He was wearing the exo-suit he had disappeared in. It had been charred and deformed by the fire, and in places, it looked like it was fused to his skin.
When Vince turned to pace toward him, West could see that his face was half-melted into the deformed headgear.
Palma wouldn’t be able to get out. He must have been living in the suit since the fire.
A battery pack of some kind was rigged up to it, duct taped to the front of the suit.
West would have expected to feel a burning hatred at the sight of Palma, but the man just looked so pathetic.
“The man has the tech, but he is gone. The boy has the tech, but they won’t take the boy,” Vince fretted in a deep, hoarse voice. Sweat poured off his forehead, pooling in the swirling scars that defined half his face.
Then his face twisted and his eyes widened and he spoke again.
“So, now you have to get them the tech without the boy attached. What are you waiting for?” he screamed in a high-pitched voice.
A soft whimper drew West’s attention to the presence of someone else.
He leaned sideways and any sympathy he might have felt for Palma vanished.
Sean Cooper was duct-taped to a folding chair, with his arm extended across an old packing crate, and taped in place.
The boy’s eyes met West’s and he opened his mouth.
West puts a finger to his lips and shook his head slowly.
Sean buttoned his lips.
Good boy.
Before West could think of a good plan, it was too late.
Vince was pacing back in his direction, wielding what looked like a souped up circular saw. Its wicked looking blade glinted in the darkness.
“No,” the throaty Vince moaned.
“Don’t worry. This thing can slice through a whole pig, so this won’t take long,” his other half squealed ghoulishly.
Palma’s suited figure bent to plug in the saw.
He was full on crazy.
As the saw whirred to life, West stepped out of the shadows.
“Jesus, Palma,” he said. “This is a new low. And that’s coming from the guy you tossed out a 12th story window.”
Vince wheeled around, eyes wide.
“Why don’t you just give me the saw, and we can talk this over?” West asked in the most reasonable voice he could muster, given the situation.
“Why don’t you stop right there, or I’ll use it?” Palma’s deeper voice wavered.
“I can’t let you do that, Vince,” West said calmly.
“What are you going to do? I kicked your sorry ass once before, I’ll do it again. And this time I’ll be sure to finish the job,” Palma shrieked, revving the saw.
There was too much space between them. West would never be able to close the distance before Palma brought the saw down.
Suddenly, a horrendous crash sounded from inside the door behind Vince.
The crash was followed by a blood curdling howl.
Vince turned to the sound.
West saw his chance.
40
Cordelia waited in the van for Dalton, just as he had asked.
At first she worried only for him. Then her heart sank as she remembered to worry for West as well.
Finally, she began to worry for herself, just a little. It was deserted and the neighborhood really was unsafe.
Wouldn’t she be better off inside, with her friends?
A crash and an agonizing howl emanated from inside the building.
Forget it.
She didn’t care what was in there. She might not be the type of hero in her sister’s books, but she’d be damned if she was going to sit out here helplessly while her friends were in trouble.
The front door swung open easily.
It was too dark inside to see anything until she engaged the flashlight on her iPhone.
She navigated her way through the filth to the back of the shop.
Something big crashed outside the back door. She listened closer for any sign of the anguished howl she’d heard. An inarticulate moan, almost too low to hear, drifted through a half-open open door.
Sean?
She pushed the door the rest of the way open as quietly as se could. The light from her phone showed her it led down a rickety wooden staircase.
Never one to rush on stairs, Cordelia picked her way down carefully.
She nearly slipped on the broken step, but caught herself before it was too late.
Her sudden movement alerted the basement’s other inhabitant to her arrival.
Its light whimpers turned to snarls.
Cordelia was struck by how much it sounded like a trapped animal. But who would keep an animal in a place like this?
Her mind raced. Could one of the African dogs
have made it this far into the Scar? Was it hurt?
She turned around and crawled backward over the missing steps, trying not to make any loud noises or sudden movements.
When she reached the bottom, she shined the light in the direction of the sounds.
She was shocked to see Dalton, writhing on the dirty floor, tangled in something, a rusty chain.
His snarls turned to moans again at her approach.
A few steps closer showed her the source of the problem.
The meathook entered the back of Dalton’s thigh and exited the front. Its sinister arrow-like head curved off to the side. Blood and tissue coated its rusty surface.
She hoped he was up on his tetanus shots.
No wonder he sounded like a trapped beast. He must be in shock.
She moved closer quietly.
He began to snarl viciously all over again, like a rabid animal.
As she came further still, he turned to her.
His eyes glowed bright blue, like twin stars in the darkness.
Cordelia froze and caught her breath. Then she chided herself, realizing it must be a trick of the light.
“Edward,” she called to him softly.
He looked away without acknowledging her.
“Oh, Edward,” she came closer.
With an eerie suddenness, he lunged and snapped at her.
The chain on the hook barely held him back from reaching her.
She stepped backward, nearly dropping the phone.
He made a sound indicating complete agony, and fell back, shivering and convulsing.
Cordelia’s mind raced. What was she supposed to do? They were miles from a hospital. He was bleeding and the hook was rusty.
A deep breath centered her and she talked herself down.
She had practically been born to help this man. He was delirious from pain, but he was still her friend.
And she had dealt with this same situation before. She had once found a wolf with her leg trapped in a wire snare in the woods. She had managed to safely extricate the wolf then. She could do this now.
Forcing herself to move slowly, she set her phone down on a box with the light mostly facing Dalton. It wasn’t the best angle, but it would have to do.
She removed her leather jacket, and wrapped it around her left forearm. It was a pity, she had saved up for it for months, but she could always get another jacket.
Moving slowly and calmly, she approached him again. Her work with animals had taught her that speaking in a gentle voice would calm both the creature and herself, so she allowed herself to prattle freely.
“Edward, sweet boy,” she said lightly, “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I’m going to need to take a look at your leg so that I can help you, my friend.”
He stopped thrashing himself on the chain.
Cordelia showed him her hand and then gently stroked his chest.
For a moment he looked right into her eyes and the yellow light seemed to fade. She could see sorrow and something else. Guilt maybe?
Then he turned his head away.
It reminded her uncannily of the way the largest male wolf at the zoo would coldly indicate that she could check his ear tag.
“Thank you,” she told him calmly. “Now this might hurt a little, but we need to see your leg.”
She tore open his pants before either of them lost their nerve.
The wound went clear through the thigh muscle. Miraculously there would probably be no permanent damage aside from the rust and the risk of infection.
It was going to hurt like hell when she yanked it out, though.
Well, there was no point postponing the inevitable.
“I need to get this out of you, so that we can go somewhere safe,” she told him in the same soft tone as before. “This is going to hurt. But I know you are a brave man.”
He didn’t respond.
Bracing one hand on his thigh, she grabbed the hook with the other, cooing to him wordlessly.
She yanked, and felt the thing slide inside him.
Dalton growled low in his throat but didn’t move to stop her.
She continued to pull, and then the tip of the hook caught.
In her periphery, she could see Dalton’s head fall backwards as he howled out his agony.
Wanting to end his suffering, she pulled for all she was worth.
For a horrible second it seemed that he would be held fast forever.
But the hook came free.
Cordelia held it in her hands for a brief moment of victory.
Then, as if in slow motion, she saw Dalton lash out.
She threw herself backward.
There was a clatter as the hook hit the floor and another as she knocked the phone off the box behind her.
The light flashed crazily as the phone tumbled away.
Dalton was pouncing on her.
She just managed to get her left arm up as he bit.
It was a strong, shearing bite, but luckily the jacket took the worst of it.
Then he was off her.
She heard the scrabbling of claws on the concrete floor. Then something big moved past her.
She leaned onto her hands and knees, desperately fumbling for the phone.
Her hands combed the dust and then hit the rubberized case.
She lifted it just in time to see a flash of something enormous with dark, glossy fur, squeezing through one of the high basement windows.
Launching herself onto her feet, she followed.
But by the time she got to the window, it was gone.
41
West had only an instant.
As Vince turned toward the howling sound, West ran at him as fast as he could.
His new legs responded to his demand with shocking speed. He nearly lost his balance as they tried to run right out from under him.
Realizing their power, he decided to try closing the last fifteen feet with a single leap.
Effortlessly he sailed into the air, covering vertical distance as well as horizontal.
The ceiling girders came dangerously close to his head.
Then he was crash landing on Palma, knocking him into a wall.
Palma screamed a warbling soprano note, and turned with the saw still going.
West fell back and scanned the space for a weapon of his own.
Though he would have liked to believe he could talk Vince down, he had obviously gone off the deep end.
Vince swung wildly, and West dodged without much effort. He could keep this up.
But in that suit, Vince wouldn’t get tired.
West continued the dance, looking for an opening.
Vince got too close.
West put his arm up as he dodged, but the saw glanced off his arm.
Sparks flew.
West felt an icy blast shoot up his arm. It was from the prosthetic - a pain trigger.
The sensation was so strong, it nearly unseated him.
He knew the prosthetics had been connected to his own nervous system. He felt sensation when they were touched, but it was the shadow of a real touch.
But this pain, it was a real pain. It didn’t match the sensation a cut should have caused, but it matched the intensity.
Shaking his head, he stepped back again and nearly tripped. That would certainly be the end of him.
He spotted a stack of wooden pallets along the back wall. He could easily yank one of the boards free.
That should be enough to slow the saw down.
West ducked and rolled toward the stack.
His body responded perfectly. But as he stood near the pallets, he realized his error.
He had allowed Vince to get too close to Sean.
Vince ignored West and raised the saw over the boy.
There was no time for boards.
West launched himself across the room again.
Tackling Vince would send him right into Sean.
West twisted in the air and got his right hand under the saw just
in time to catch the spinning blade head on.
The cold pain returned, but this time he was expecting it.
The blade ground to a halt an inch into his hand.
West twisted and the saw wrenched free from Vince’s grasp and clattered to the floor, blade popping loose and rolling away.
Palma’s face turned purple with rage. He began punching wildly at West.
West ducked the first punch.
He blocked the second, but Palma’s suit was strong enough he wasn’t sure he could keep blocking.
Palma caught West in the ribs with his next shot, knocking the wind out of him.
West fell to the ground.
He looked up to see Palma, both arms raised over his head to smash down on him.
West kicked out at Palma’s knee.
There was a loud snap. West wasn’t sure if it was the suit or a bone. But there was no time to figure it out.
Vince was tumbling down, falling heavily on top of him.
Thinking quickly, West wrapped his legs around Palma’s midsection and hooked his feet together behind him in the Jiu Jitsu guard position.
Vince began to rain down blows on him immediately.
Both kinds of pain blossomed in West. The damage from Palma’s suit would be devastating. He was going to get pulverized.
Closing his good eye, West reached up and grabbed Vince, pulling him in to hug him close.
He knew too well what would happen next.
Falling right into his trap, Vince pushed up hard.
West allowed it, relinquishing his hold and securing a grip on Palma’s right arm.
Vince realized what was happening and frantically tried to pull away.
But it was too late.
West used the space to pivot his hips and throw his leg over Vince’s left shoulder, trapping his right arm and head between his legs. He locked his legs together in a figure four shape, securing Vince in a tight triangle choke.
The move that had won him the world championship.
He tightened the choke further, feeling the frame of the suit crack and bend under the force of his powerful legs.
Vince gave up on pulling out and began to swing at West with his free hand.
He didn’t land anything but it was only a matter of time.
West pivoted away from the arm.
