Not bloody likely, I think, glancing behind us.
Susanoo calmly emerges around the corner of what used to be the park attached to our hotel. I continue to watch him as he carefully moves forward. He steps into the road and is lifted off the ground. It’s only a couple of inches above the pavement, but he rides the artificial current with practiced ease.
His self-made current.
As smug as ever, he just crosses his arms and stands tall, barely having to adjust his hoverboard-like movements. I quickly do the math and figure out that he’s going to catch us soon, having an unlimited amount of fuel around him.
“We need to stop and fight,” I croak, squeezing Nicole’s hand harder. My mouth is dry and I feel massively dehydrated. While it’s a cute idea to stand our ground, I also realize it’s easier said than done. Susanoo—eh, screw it, I’m calling him Susan, whatever… At this point, I might as well do whatever I can to make myself feel better. He won’t stop and therefore, we’re screwed unless we beat him to the punch.
Not literally, though. Nicole already proved that sucker punching the guy again won’t work.
“How?” she asks, motioning to her bikini-clad form. “It’s not like we have any weapons other than your abilities. And like you said, you used a lot of your energy already.”
I shrug and turn, stepping in front of Nicole. I look back over my shoulder and grin. “Looks like you’re carrying me when I pass out.”
She rolls her eyes. “You and your Baywatch fantasies.”
“You mean every man’s fantasy,” I correct, turning back towards Susan. “Pam Anderson was a cultural icon when I was a kid.”
“Just shut up and fight, will you?” She shoves me forward. “The quicker you faint, the quicker you’ll stop talking.”
She then softly smiles at me when I glance back to her. She then steps away, ushering me to continue with my asinine idea.
Fire versus water. This isn’t going to be easy.
While the hottest of flames can evaporate water, a massive deluge of the stuff can all but snuff out the hottest flame. We could literally finish at a stalemate. The only problem with a tie is that we lose. I have a feeling Susan won’t tire.
I look down at my hands and clench them tightly. While they are bare, my wrists aren’t. Each is adorned with a simple copper-colored bracelet. They resemble what a golfer would use to fend off arthritis—if you believe in that sort of thing.
Only, they aren’t copper. They’re orichalcum. My sword, Elvis, had a decorative Egyptian ankh attached to the base of its hilt—had being the operative word. We decided to remove it and reform the metal into these two simple pieces of jewelry. Now, I can call upon the fires of An’tala whenever I please, like I did with the sword when fighting Coaxoch. Before then, I couldn’t do so. I didn’t possess any Atlantean relics at the time, but now I have the sword and Nicole’s coin—the one we collected from Frost’s Georgia home.
Would be nice to have Elvis right about now. I look past Susan and see the front edge of our hotel’s parking garage. My sword is in the hidden compartment of our tricked-out SUV. The trunk’s floor also houses a bevy of other weapons, including two shotguns, multiple more handguns with plenty of spare ammo, and Nicole’s newest additions. Kane finally convinced her to upgrade from the light-weight, softer-hitting Rugers.
We had to use some fancy laser to cut the ankh off and then I used my own fire to melt it down, pouring it into matching molds. I even went as far as applying them before they were completely solid again. Now, they’re permanent. The only way to get them off would be for me to lose my hands or for me to will them to melt again, neither of which I plan on happening. As far as I can tell, since they are physically touching me, they become a part of me. My connection to the strange Atlantean metal is on a sub-atomic level and we really don’t understand it. All I know is that the stuff is coursing through my blood and ever since then I can do what I do.
Like now.
God, I’m glad I’ve been practicing, I think as I lift my fists and call upon the power of An’tala.
“Let’s do this.”
My hands ignite, the cracking electric-green flames stopping at my bracelets. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is where the legend of Greek fire came from. The three Atlantean priests used it as well and when Atlantis was completely destroyed, the stories of the green fire lived on.
Susan stops, his eyes growing wide. He lowers himself to the ground, standing as still as stone. The analogy quickly ends up being a bad one once Nicole speaks up from behind.
“Hank,” she says, her eyes flicking back-and-forth as she runs through a cluster of messages in her glasses. I can’t see them, but I can see her eyes dancing around, darting left-to-right as she reads. “Everyone—not just Kane and Olivia are under attack by more of them.” She points to Susan. “Lincoln’s statue came after Todd, and Ben is currently trying to outrun a record-setting tornado near Site A.
Just great…
“Well,” I say, looking at my opponent, “looks like we’re going to have to end this sooner rather than later.”
“I agree,” he says.
“I wasn’t actually talking to you, Susan,” I say, accentuating his incorrect name.
He doesn’t answer me, his eyes just narrow into slits and he attacks. The water around me rises up but is instantly turned to a puff of steam as I quickly superheat it. Susan sneers and tries something different.
“Hank!”
I turn and see the same thing happen to Nicole. I rush to her side but am hit from behind by a bus-sized column of water. It shoots me forward, through Nicole’s enlarging funnel of water and out the other side. I slam to the asphalt and in one painful motion, end up sitting upright, smacking the back of my head against a stalled car.
Coughing gets my attention when I look down at my lap. Nicole lays in my arms, looking at me with a nauseated expression. She probably ingested a bunch of—then she vomits seawater all over my chest, some of which splashes upward sticking to my chin.
I’m covered in my girlfriend’s puke… That’s a first.
But I don’t get to be grossed out for long. Susan sends another jet stream of water sailing towards us. I grab Nicole and roll right, just as it impacts the Honda I hit, rolling the small coupe like an empty beer can.
Damn, he’s getting stronger.
We land in a puddle of stinging saltwater and I let go of Nicole, setting her down while she gets her breath back. She’s horribly vulnerable right now. She needs to leave now.
“Get up and run,” I say, again blocking her from the water wielding attacker. I keep a sharper eye on her this time. I don’t need another distraction.
“How?” she asks, her voice raspy from the vomit.
“Wait for the right moment.”
“And when would that be?”
“Now!”
I rush Susan and ignite the street around me, incinerating everything in my path. The road itself starts to bubble as I move, getting a look of surprise out of my foe. He reels back, the water carrying him away from me.
The water?
While my idea is sure to work, I need Nicole to get clear when I act upon it. She’s currently skirting the battlefield while I keep Susan’s attention off her and on me.
“Are you from An’tala?” I ask, curious and again trying to distract him.
It works.
“Yes.”
Now it’s my time to look surprised. While I know that thousands of Atlanteans successfully made it off the island before it was devastated, we have no knowledge of what happened to those people. Did they survive, or did they eventually die off, not having any of the life-extending fruit?
Rahji-itza, the first elder, told me of the magical properties the fruit-bearing trees gave the people living there. While the residents weren’t immortal in the same sense as the priests—and obviously Susan here—they were resilient enough to keep their minds and bodies young for long periods of time. They would eventually
die, but it could take hundreds of years to do so—maybe even thousands of years.
“Why are you trying to kill us?” I ask still trying to delay him, but also out of genuine interest. I like to know why people are trying to kill me.
He shrugs indifferently. “It was requested by my lord.”
“Your lord?” I’m confused. “But Nannot and Coaxoch are dead, how could they—”
“You assume much.”
“Assume?”
“Yes,” he replies, “you assume they were my teachers. I may have served them at one point, but they weren’t my masters.”
Well, now I’m even more confused. What does he—
“No…”
He smiles at my disbelief.
“You’re one of the children?”
He bows, pleased at my recognition.
“One of four Judges, yes.”
“Judges?” I ask.
“Of humanity.”
“Oh…”
I release my inferno and step forward, not worrying about the molten asphalt beneath my feet. This was a recent development. Apparently, no heat of any kind can physically harm me. My clothes maybe, but not my body. But as I take that step, my leg gives out and I drop to one knee. My head swims as I look back up and see Susan laughing.
“You’re weak, Mr. Boyd,” he says smiling wide. “If only you knew your true potential.”
Huh?
My eyes flick right as I see Nicole sprinting back down Ocean Drive. She’s clear of us and hauling ass back to the hotel.
Please go to the car, I think, willing her to turn left and continue up the ramp.
I don’t get to see her turn, though. Susan steps in front of me, cutting off my view of Nicole’s Baywatch impression. I grit my teeth and stand on shaky legs, but my enemy has underestimated me a little. Yes, my body may be weakened without the aid of the priest’s power, but my will is stronger than theirs all put together. I will die right here if it means protecting Nicole. The knowledge that I can go all out if I deem it necessary brings me strength and my body ceases to tremble.
I stand straight and smile.
“My body may be frail at times, but I fight for a greater cause than destruction.”
His eyebrows raise, waiting for me to continue.
“I fight for preservation. I fight with my soul—my heart.”
I kneel again, but not in weakness. I place my hands under the shallow water and close my eyes. This is going to hurt like hell and will definitely cause me to lose consciousness.
Come on Nicole…
I breathe in deep and push like I’m trying to lift the sky above me like the Titan, Atlas, did. His duty was a sentence to a life of agony and torment. I welcome the weight of the world, understanding that I’m the only one that can handle it.
Now.
My hands explode into white-hot flames and they shoot outward, eating the seawater as it goes. Every last ounce of the stuff is turned to steam within a city block, essentially disarming my adversary.
Fire versus water. The thought warbles through my mind as my eyes begin to blacken. Fire won this battle. I look up through my foggy vision and see Susan, still alive and carefully standing on the hood of a half-melted SUV. His skin is covered in ash and he has an almost frightened look on his face.
Then, my arms fail and I fall face first onto the charred street.
Fire may have prevailed here today—winning this battle, but we may have very well just lost the war.
12
South Beach, Miami, Florida
A screeching sound wakes me from my impromptu nap, causing me to flail a little. I may have even yelped like a startled puppy, but immediately bury the humiliating memory. It’s like when you wake up while you dream of falling and have that mini-panic attack. Your arms grab for the closest thing, whether it’s your pillow, a glass of water, or even the person lying next to you. Either way, you’re scared shitless, thinking you’re going to plummet to the ground and die.
Except, this isn’t a nightmare… I really am going to die this time.
The roar of what sounds like another wave coming in grows louder as I look up, prepared to meet my maker head on. But instead of meeting him head on, Susan meets head on with the front end of our SUV.
Nicole slams the speeding, reinforced vehicle into the Atlantean. His vulnerability is now obvious. When there isn’t any water close by, he’s weaker, borderline defenseless. Unfortunately, knowing how this type operates, I’m willing to bet that not only will he survive the impact, but he’ll walk away unscathed. Probably won’t even bleed. He didn’t after I pile drove him into a palm tree after all. A lesser man would’ve been knocked out, maybe even killed.
Where’s Arnold when you need him?
“If…it bleeds,” I say, woozy, “we can…kill it.”
Even my normally above average Austrian accent comes out garbled, sounding like an angry drunken Irishman instead.
Susan gets thrown over the Honda I hit earlier and lands somewhere beyond it with a thwap. Seeing an opportunity to escape alive, I try to lift myself off the ground, but only get to my hands and knees before being pulled down again.
I hear the telltale sound of a car door opening and feet stomping towards me. A pair of familiar boots appear in front of my face as I’m quickly manhandled off the ground and to my feet. I stumble but am thankfully caught by my extraordinarily strong girlfriend.
“Come on, Hank. Let’s get out of here while we can.”
“Please, do,” I say, my head spinning from exertion. I feel desiccated, starved, and horribly drunk. Come to think of it, the last thing I had was beer, so it makes sense. Either way, I’m completely drained and need time to recover... It’s time we may not have.
She helps me into the front passenger seat and I all but fall in, dragging myself the rest of the way. I hear the clomping of my borrowed boots as she then rounds the front of the SUV, rushing to the driver’s side.
“Nice kicks,” I say, trying to smile. It doesn’t work, though. Instead, I just fold in on myself and squeeze my eyes tight, trying my best to ward off an onsetting migraine.
“Not exactly my style, but they served their purpose.”
I watch as she flicks them off, puts the V8 into gear, and shoves the pedal down to the floor with her bare foot. Thankfully, the road is emptier than normal and the midweek afternoon traffic is light. She easily swerves in-and-out of the few wrecks, avoiding everything in our path.
Hardly able to move, I flip down the overhead vanity mirror and angle it so I can see what’s left of our friend. Susan is on his back and not moving. It’s impossible to tell from this distance if he’s breathing either.
“Get off this road,” I say, closing my eyes again. “Get us away from the coast.”
Without acknowledging me, Nicole quickly turns left, taking us farther inland. I try to reach Kane and Olivia, but neither one answers. Ben doesn’t either.
“Hank, thank God.” Todd does, however. “Are you guys okay?”
“We’re headed to the nearest airport, have something there waiting for us. Private jet. Hush, hush. Get us back to D.C. pronto.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Todd says.
“Why?” I ask.
“What makes you think they won’t try to hit us here again?” he asks. “They’ve seen our hand now. I know there isn’t much that can go up against two Vipers, but that was designed to go toe-to-toe with a human enemy, using modern tech. We need a more secure location, something pretty well off the grid.”
“Safe house?” Nicole asks.
“I think it’s our safest bet,” Todd replies, on the same page.
I don’t answer. I’m not happy about going there.
“Hank?” Todd asks, weary.
“I’m here, Q,” I say, using his callsign. “I agree, but I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, my friend, but I think it’s our best option right now. We have all the necessary equipment already on l
ocation and ready to rock. All we’ll have to do is get there and plug ENVY in.”
“Okay, do it,” I say, trying to sit straighter. “Keep trying to get a hold of the others and arrange their transportation. Ben’s way out of the way, so we’ll have to operate with the assumption that he’s not coming home.”
“Will do, Hank. Stay safe.”
And with that Todd disconnects, no doubt already starting on his duties to bring everyone back alive.
The safe house...
It’s a place I never thought I’d have to go again. Not only was it a literal lion’s den—wolf den, actually—but it’s right smack in the middle of a small suburban town. The last thing I want to do is bring this fight there. But like Todd said, they know our response in D.C. We’ll be sitting out in the open.
“Fish in a barrel,” I mumble to myself.
“What?”
I look over to Nicole and see a welt on her forehead and a scrape on her chin.
“It’s fine,” she says, seeing me staring. “Road rash from when you tackled me.”
“Sorry.” I groan and sit up, the nausea subsiding enough to function. Now, instead of feeling like a beat-to-hell drunk, I only feel beat to hell. My head has cleared a little too, making it easier to see, not having to squint to keep my headache from worsening.
“Why sorry?” she asks.
“For the chin,” I say reaching out. I tilt her face just enough for me to get a better look at it, but not enough to force her eyes from the road.
“You saved my life three times in the matter of a few minutes,” she replies, her eyes flicking to mine for a second. “I should be the one to thank you.”
“You can later.”
She slaps my shoulder.
“I meant a beer and an ice pack!” I yelp, cowering away.
She just laughs, shaking her head.
We ride in silence for a couple of minutes, zigzagging from street to street while still heading north.
“You saved me too, you know,” I say, breaking the stillness.
Babel Found Page 8
