Invaders' Wrath (The Unstoppable Titans Book 2)

by Jerry Hart

  Owen stood silently for a while, then said, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  Doug saw the look on Owen’s face and decided not to press it. Suddenly something else walked into the room with them. It stood six feet tall, had shiny electric-blue eyes, and was wearing a trench coat and fedora. Words failed Doug.

  “That’s D,” Owen said. “Your brother built him.”

  “Built?”

  “That’s a robot,” Owen said with a smile, pointing to the newcomer.

  Doug slowly approached the robot as if afraid it might bite. He couldn’t see much of it because of the coat, but its face was clearly robotic: a milky white plastic shell with circuitry inside.

  “I call him Daniel,” Doug heard Owen say. He turned around and stared at Owen, not comprehending. “His name,” Owen said, pointing at the robot, “was originally D-18—Daniel Eighteen—but I like ‘Daniel’ better, or D. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Doug wasn’t sure if he minded. It took all his willpower not to cry at that moment. This was all too much.

  A knock on the front door spun the two of them around. Standing there was a young African-American guy. His clothes were covered in dirt. He was looking from Doug to Owen.

  “Curtis?” Owen said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you,” Curtis said. “We need to talk.”

  “About what? I told you to go home.”

  Curtis stepped into the condo, waving absently at Doug. “Nikki told me to talk to you about my friend Marco.”

  Owen shook his head, uncomprehending. “I don’t know him.”

  “He’s dead,” Curtis said. “She said he was killed by the same guy who killed David Hernandez. You know him.”

  Owen thought for a moment, then nodded. “Michael killed David.” He looked to Doug. “He also killed Alyssa and your brother.”

  This was too much information for Doug to take in such a short amount of time. He sat down on the soft couch behind him.

  “Michael?” Curtis asked, scratching his head. “You mean that weird redhead?”

  Owen nodded.

  “And Nikki knew that?” Curtis asked.

  “There isn’t much she doesn’t know.”

  “So she’s the real deal? She’s an actual psychic?”

  “She doesn’t like to be called that,” Owen said with a grin.

  “Well, besides the fact they were all killed by the same person, why would Nikki want me to talk to you about it?” Curtis asked.

  Owen sat down at the other end of the couch from Doug and pondered the question. “For all I know, Michael is out of the picture. Maybe she just wanted us to know the connection.”

  Curtis shook his head. “She already told me the connection. She told me that the guy who killed David also killed Marco. She made it sound really important that I talk to you.”

  “Alyssa’s dead?” Doug asked after his long silence. Owen looked at him and nodded. Alyssa, that cute little brunette whom Daniel clearly had a crush on? Dead? Doug just couldn’t picture it. “Are you sure she’s dead?” he asked Owen. “You saw her die?”

  “Yes, I—” Owen looked from Curtis to Doug. Then he jumped to his feet. “I don’t know where her body is, though.”

  He looked at Curtis, and Curtis seemed to know where this was leading.

  “You think wherever Alyssa is, Marco will be?” he asked.

  “I’m almost positive of it,” Owen responded. “Now, where are they?”

  “The last time I saw Marco,” said Curtis, “was at the arcade over near Fairington Drive. He was talking to Michael. Michael and Les were already there.”

  “Who’s Les?” Owen asked.

  “Les Huntington. Big guy, kinda goofy. He and Michael showed up at David’s party the other night.”

  “I want to talk to this Les guy,” Owen said. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “Right down the street from the arcade.”

  “I guess that’s what Nikki wanted us to know,” Owen said.

  “Why didn’t she just tell us?”

  “Well, we did get attacked by zombies.”

  “Zombies?” Doug suddenly asked in alarm.

  “I’ll tell you about it later.” Owen smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

  The four of them left the condo. Owen and D got into Owen’s car. Curtis got into his pickup, and Doug in his own car.

  And in a dark alley a block away, a young man with curly brown hair watched, dark tears stained on his pale cheeks.

  * * *

  A thunderclap woke Patrick up. Toby was lying in his lap, looking up at him. He scratched the cat’s head absently and slowly got up from his chair (Toby protested) and looked around. The living room was packed to the gills with electronics.

  His most prized possession was his high-definition TV. A few game systems were littered around it. Unfortunately, due to his erratic work hours, he didn’t have much time for gaming. The systems were already gathering dust.

  He thought about booting up a game, but he was still incredibly sleepy. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after midnight. He’d slept for over three hours in the recliner. He was still wearing his police uniform.

  Patrick shambled into his room and changed into some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He then went back to the living room and plopped down on his futon next to the recliner. He turned on the TV and one of the game systems.

  That’s when another thunderclap boomed overhead, making Patrick jump to his feet. He stood still for a moment, tense and alert. There had been no lightning to accompany the thunder. This made him nervous. What if it wasn’t thunder? his mind wondered. What if he was hearing explosions?

  Patrick ran out the front door and looked around. He was on the second floor of his apartment building. A few neighbors were also standing outside their doors.

  “Is that a storm comin’?” asked a middle-aged man across the hall from Patrick. Patrick shrugged and started down the stairs so that he could see the sky.

  What he saw rooted him.

  The sky was puffy with light-gray clouds, and there appeared to be remarkable amounts of light shining behind them. Most of the sky was brightened by this light, but it didn’t look like sunlight. It looked the way a cloudy sky would be just as lightning was dancing across it, but instead of lasting for a second or two, it was continuous. Patrick’s jaw dropped as he stared at this strange phenomenon. Other tenants were surrounding him, also staring wide-eyed and openmouthed.

  There was something else, too. A sound was coming from the clouds. It sounded to Patrick like an engine. He thought that perhaps there was an airplane flying in those clouds.

  Why not? It was possible, but suddenly he doubted it.

  Just then, a massive dark shape appeared, blocking some of the light in the clouds. It was heading west. The engine sound followed the object. Patrick couldn’t discern the shape behind the cloud cover, but it was huge.

  He felt dizzy and sat down on the curb. No one seemed to notice; they kept their eyes on the sky in stunned silence.

  Something strange is happening, he thought. Something that’s going to turn out to be terrible and world-changing. Nothing good is going to come of this. I’m going to turn on the news, and the reporters are going to talk professionally—with just a hint of fear and excitement—about the thing in the sky. For a while, nothing will happen. The object will just hover in the clouds, and then … then, the stunned silence will end.

  CHAPTER 5

  Owen followed Curtis closely, and Doug followed Owen. They had been driving for fifteen minutes. Owen had been pretty calm since their departure from the condo, but now his heart began to race.

  He was pretty sure that he’d figured out Nikki’s intentions correctly. She had told Curtis that Michael killed Marco, Curtis’s best friend. She then told him to talk to Owen. Owen didn’t pretend to understand Nikki herself, but, in some strange way, he understood her logic. She must have seen, through the link between Marco and
Alyssa, the location of their bodies.

  The root of Owen’s anxiousness lay in what he would find if he was right. He wasn’t sure if he would be ready to see Alyssa’s body if—when—he found it.

  But he needed to find it, and put it to rest.

  They were turning onto Fairington Drive now. Here, Curtis’s truck slowed. Then it stopped. Owen pulled up behind him, and Doug pulled up behind Owen. The three of them met by Curtis’s truck.

  “I don’t know which house is his,” Curtis told Owen, glancing down the long street.

  Owen noticed the arcade Curtis spoke of across the intersection of Fairington and Teal Oak Street. There were many small houses on this street. It was impossible to guess which was the one they were looking for.

  “You’ve never been to his place?” Doug asked Curtis.

  “Never had a reason to. We aren’t exactly buddies.”

  Owen started walking down the street, away from the arcade. Curtis had said Les lived down the street from the place, and judging by Curtis’s description of the guy, Owen assumed the closer the house, the better.

  * * *

  Curtis was about to follow Owen down the street when he noticed Doug peering into Owen’s car. He was staring at the robot in the passenger seat. Doug’s expression, rather than shocked and amazed, was sad.

  “You okay, man?” he asked Doug.

  “My brother built this thing,” Doug replied. He never took his eyes off the machine.

  Curtis glanced back at Owen, who was still walking slowly down the dark, empty street. He wondered if Marco was really here. The realization that he was dead was finally starting to hit Curtis. He couldn’t accept it before, but now that he was close…

  He, Doug and Owen had all lost someone at the hands of Michael. It was hard to believe one human being could murder another. Curtis himself could never do such a thing.

  At least, he told himself he couldn’t.

  Even after he’d invited Les to one of his parties and Les had told an incredibly racist joke, Curtis had kept cool. He’d known Les hadn’t meant to be offensive (Curtis had seen it in his face after everyone’s reaction to the joke), but he had decided to bust Les’s chops about it every chance he could. It was Curtis’s way of getting revenge, the only non-violent option at his disposal.

  Michael, on the other hand, was different. His comment at the arcade had been very intentional. “Les, is this the guy you said was darker than the night sky?” he’d said.

  Curtis had known from the very moment the words left his lips that Michael was the true author of the quote. At that moment, Curtis had felt an anger he was not aware he possessed. At that moment, he had wanted to punch the crap out of that red-haired dirtbag.

  But he hadn’t, and he was proud of himself for it. Curtis was aware of the fact that a lot of people were either afraid of him or intimidated by him, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  In truth, Curtis was really afraid of everyone else. Afraid that someone, someday, would make him angry enough to hurt them. And Curtis feared he would hurt them badly.

  * * *

  An old brown car stopped Owen from walking any farther. It was parked in a driveway to his right. The house it belonged to was dark and rather haunted-looking. But he only paid attention to the car. It wasn’t anything special, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was familiar.

  He heard footsteps behind him and saw Doug and Curtis running up to him.

  “Find something?” Curtis asked, a little out of breath.

  “I think this is his house,” Owen said.

  The three of them stared at the house in silence for a moment. None of them wanted to move. It was as if they were afraid of what they might find. Of course, they had reason to fear the place: It quite possibly housed the bodies of two of their friends. If so, the place was a tomb.

  Finally Owen stepped forward.

  The front door was unlocked. Owen immediately noticed a horrible smell lingering in the air. Curtis and Doug were right behind him, and they smelled it, too.

  “Man, it smells like someone died—” Doug cut himself short. He seemed to have forgotten why they were there in the first place.

  Owen wasn’t paying attention, though. He was taking note of the state of the dark living room. It was in shambles. There was a huge hole in the wall to their left, and the fireplace on their right was shattered. Bricks and plaster littered the floor.

  “This has to be the right place,” Curtis said.

  “How did you know?” Doug asked Owen quietly.

  “I recognized the car out front. It was outside the alley where Michael killed Alyssa.”

  They carefully made their way through the debris. Owen, who was now standing in front of the hole, looked through it. It led to a room. It was too dark to see what was inside.

  * * *

  Owen stepped through the hole, careful not to trip. Curtis started to go through as well, but Doug hesitated.

  “I’m going around,” he said to the others. The last thing he wanted was to hurt himself in this dark and creepy place where there were possibly dead people.

  As he rounded the corner into the hallway, he saw something that made his blood run cold. On the floor was what appeared to be an old woman. And she had been cut in half, right down the middle. One half of her was leaning on the left wall, the other half on the right.

  Doug nearly collapsed. It was his brother all over again. But this was different. Daniel was in a morgue, his body being cared for. This old woman’s was just lying here. No one appeared to know she was even dead. She was just rotting on the floor.

  And then Doug remembered the hospital wasn’t too far from here. He’d recognized the area on their way to this house. He shivered. All this death was not sitting well with him.

  There was also something else in the hallway. It was a large monstrosity, lying on its stomach. Its tattered clothes were stiff and fairly shiny, like it was made of plastic. Doug thought of getting a closer look, but decided against it.

  “Guys,” he said as he entered the room. “There are a couple of dead people out—”

  His voice caught in his throat. Owen and Curtis were standing on either side of another body. It was lying within a circle of purple crystals, a bloody hole in the top of its head. The body belonged to a man with a rather significant belly.

  “That’s Les,” Curtis said. “At least, it was.”

  “What happened to him?” Doug asked, staying by the door, afraid to enter the room.

  “Looks like somebody stabbed him,” Owen said. He and Doug looked around and saw a figure in a dark corner of the room. He jumped, startled, as Owen leapt onto the figure, pinning it to the ground. “Somebody turn on the lights!”

  Doug flipped the switch, but nothing happened.

  Owen tapped his knuckles on the figure under him. “It’s fake, like a statue or something.”

  Curtis started to laugh, but stifled it quickly. Owen stood up and pulled a flashlight out of his backpack. He shined the light down on the figure and saw that it was indeed a statue.

  “That’s Aslain,” Curtis suddenly said.

  “Who?” Doug asked.

  “Aslain. From Hero Saga.”

  Owen and Doug gave quizzical looks.

  “You’ve never heard of Hero Saga?” Curtis said incredulously.

  Doug saw Aslain pretty clearly in Owen’s light. The statue had long black hair, fairly dark skin, and a strong jaw line. Its barely there outfit showed off his physique.

  “There’s another statue out here in the hall,” Doug offered, now realizing what he had seen. “He’s not pretty, though.”

  The room was as bad as the living room, if not worse. There were the shattered remains of a dark wooden desk in front of the hole in the wall. A severed arm and leg were lying near Les’s body.

  “What happened here?” Curtis asked, disgusted.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” Owen said, looking at Aslain again. The figure’s
hand was open. “Is Applesauce supposed to be holding something?”

  “It’s Aslain, and he’s supposed to be holding a sword,” Curtis said with a bit of annoyance.

  Doug looked down at the other figure in the hall. “What about this one?”

  Curtis poked his head out. “That’s Norrack, and he’s supposed to have an axe.”

  “It’s not out here,” Doug said, looking back to Les’s body in the room. “You think somebody took those weapons and killed Les and his … grandma?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Owen said, “but I don’t think that’s what it is.”

  “What do you think happened?” Curtis asked.

  Owen turned to him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Owen shined his light on Aslain again. “This thing is covered with blood. The other one is out in the hallway with the other body.”

  Silence fell on the room as Doug and Curtis tried to piece it together.

  Doug got there first. “You think the statues killed these people?”

  Owen nodded. Doug laughed nervously and shook his head. Curtis didn’t join, though.

  “You can’t be serious,” Doug said.

  “I’ve seen weirder things,” Owen said.

  “Me too,” Curtis added.

  “Where are the weapons, then?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen said. “Somebody must have taken them.”

  Doug thought he heard a rustle come from the living room, but ignored it. The thought that two plastic objects could come to life and kill was just too absurd.

  “Do you still think Marco and your friend are here?” Curtis asked Owen.

  “There’s not a doubt in my mind, now.”

  There was another rustling sound, this time more pronounced. Doug looked to the living room but couldn’t see around the corner. He couldn’t see very well through the hole, either.

  “Where do you think they are?” he heard Curtis ask.

  “Let’s look in the garage,” Owen said. “We’ll search this whole house if we have to.”

  Doug didn’t hear any more. He was in the living room now, and what he saw made him scream.

  He backed away from the thing that had walked in through the open front door. He tripped over some of the debris and fell on his butt, never breaking in his continuous screaming.