Kicking It

by Faith Hunter

  The doors swung inward, and what used to be a woman shuffled through, her sluggish steps sliding through the muck.

  Her black hair had once been in a ponytail, but was now hanging askew with bits of leaves clinging to the elastic band. Several buttons on her blouse were undone, and the tail on one side was hanging over her slim skirt. Beneath torn panty hose, dirt stained her knees. There was a gash on one ankle that had scabbed over, but was swollen and red with infection.

  Simone simply stared, all logical thought slipping from her head. In the space of a split second, she told herself half a dozen different stories about who this woman had been. A schoolteacher who’d devoted her life to children, an executive who’d taken the wrong turn while attending a business meeting out of town, a soccer mom on her way to pick up a kid from a friend’s house . . .

  Simone wondered who this woman had left behind, and if those people who’d loved her even knew what had happened to her.

  The shell kept coming. A few more seconds and she would run right into Simone and Brighton. And yet she stood frozen, unable to get past the loss the woman represented.

  Brighton’s body quivered with anxiety. He gave Simone’s hand a squeeze as if to tell her to pull it together. She’d ordered him to follow her lead and yet here she was, not leading.

  Still her mind reeled at the loss. How many lives had been shattered because of what the ’Gasts had stolen?

  One second Simone was standing there, too overwhelmed to move. The next she was pressed against a cool door with Brighton’s bulk pinning her in place. He didn’t let go of her hand, which caused their arms to twist awkwardly between them. Her breasts flattened against his forearm. The blunt, wide edge of the ax dug into her skin. His thigh was wedged between hers, their clothes doing little to shield her from his heat.

  Within the shimmering web that cloaked them from sight, she could make out his bulging jawline. Her nose was only inches from a thick vein in his neck, pulsing with his heartbeat. She could smell his skin and the hint of soap clinging to him.

  For one insane moment, she wanted to snuggle right in and bury her face in the crook of his shoulder. Just like she used to do with Jeremy.

  The thought trickled through her like ice water, making her body go stiff. She suffered through the stab of betrayal, accepting it as her due punishment.

  “Stay still,” he whispered right into her ear, so close she knew the sound wouldn’t travel.

  Simone forced her body to relax, forced her breathing to even out so that her frantic panting wouldn’t be heard by the passing shell.

  The exterior door at the end of the hall opened and shut as the shell left.

  Brighton’s heavy body eased away from hers, and he looked down at her with fury riding his features. In the red lighting, his eyes glinted with a fiery blaze. “What the hell was that? You nearly got us killed.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not. I’m not dying in here tonight. Got it?”

  Simone nodded and gave him a shove with her arm—just enough to get him to back off, taking his intriguing, distracting scent with him. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Before he could argue, she tugged on his hand, dragging him along with her.

  She pushed the swinging doors open just enough to peer through a narrow crack. A low hum and the scent of ozone struck her like a slap in the face.

  She’d been surrounded by that once before. Trapped, with no way to escape what was being done to her. That smell had shoved its way into her nose, stronger than the stench of rotting shells ever could be. She’d choked on it, knowing that she would die doing so—that the smell would stop only when she was dead.

  Her body began to shake, and her breath became a constricted, terrified pant.

  Brighton pulled her back from the swinging doors. His voice was harsh, conflicting with his grip on her chin. He tipped her face up so she had no choice but to look at him.

  “I’m getting you out of here,” he told her. “You clearly can’t handle this.”

  Simone dug deep, using her pride to fuel her recovery. She forced her lungs to relax, taking slow, even breaths. After a couple, she felt stronger, steadier. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not even close.”

  “Go back if you want, but I’m finishing the job.”

  His mouth went hard, but he gave a tight nod. “One more freak-out and I’m tossing you over my shoulder and carrying you out.”

  She ignored his threat and slipped a knife from the purse. The reassuring weight of the weapon comforted her and gave her the confidence she needed to push the swinging door open again.

  This time, she let the assault of sounds and smells hit her and pass right by. She focused on what she saw, forcing herself to think only of tactics. All that mattered was finding that hammer and getting the hell out. Simple. Easy.

  The room on the other side of the doors was large, with high ceilings and exposed metal beams. Red light pooled in the center of the space, leaving the edges cloaked in murky darkness. A small number of shells wandered around a raised platform. Some worked to assemble scaffolding while others ran thick lengths of translucent rope along the floor.

  In the center of the platform was an oddly shaped ring about twenty feet high. It was held upright by steel beams and heavy wires. A single section of the ring was missing, as if it had yet to be put in place.

  On either side of the platform were two more of those oddly misshapen rings about seven feet in diameter. They stood upright, suspended by thick cables. Clear wires bristled from the outside edge of the ring, feeding into a heavy translucent rope that snaked up onto the platform. That rope pulsed with light at about the same pace as her heartbeat.

  Inside each ring was a human, held in place by wide metal bands around the wrists, ankles, and waist. With every pulse of light in that rope, both bodies jerked as if hit by an electrical current.

  Simone knew what that felt like—having her will ripped from her, bit by bit. Thoughts were stripped away. Pieces of her life taken. Second by second, the machine stole all the parts of her that made her who she was.

  She had no idea what the Fractogasts wanted with those stolen pieces, but the second the machine she was in broke down, everything had snapped back into place, restoring her.

  Not everyone was so lucky. Those who stayed strapped inside the machine until the process was complete came out as the empty shells surrounding this building, doing the bidding of the ’Gasts.

  The same thing was going to happen to the two people only a few feet away.

  The woman on the left was older, pudgy, with thin white hair. Her head was slumped forward, giving Simone no way to accurately judge her age. From the awkward angle of her neck, there was a good chance she wasn’t even conscious anymore—a small blessing.

  The guy on the right was just a kid—maybe nineteen at most. His lean frame was tense as he fought against his bonds. His mouth was open as if he were trying to scream, but no sound came out—only a furious hiss of air, as if he’d lost his voice.

  Simone knew there was no chance in hell of him breaking free, no matter how strong he was. Judging by the steady pulses of light flowing through the tubes coming from his ring, he hadn’t been there long. There was still a lot of fight left in him. For now.

  The horror of what she witnessed sank into her, making her sick. These people were dying, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to help them. Not unless she wanted to be right where they were.

  Again.

  Escaping once had been enough of a miracle for her to know it wouldn’t happen a second time. And she’d rather slit her own throat than let those creatures use her again.

  Brighton shifted his weight toward the Fractogasts’ victims. His body quivered with rage, and she knew that she had to stop him before he did something stupid.

  With a rou
gh pull on his hand, she got his attention, forcing him to look at her. Her voice was quiet, but hard. “No. They’ll kill you.”

  Anger twisted his lips. Hot color flushed across his cheeks, and he seemed to grow bigger in his fury. “We have to save them.”

  Her hold on his hand tightened. “All we can do is get ourselves killed.”

  He looked over his shoulder, back at the victims. The light pulsing out from the woman’s ring was fading visibly as they stood there.

  Once again Brighton surged forward, so she slipped in front of him and put her knife to his chest. “No. I won’t let you end up in one of those machines.”

  Before he could respond, swinging doors on the far side of the room opened, and two Fractogasts lumbered in. They headed straight for the raised platform without even glancing at their victims, as if those humans were of no more importance than the walls or the floor.

  They were easily nine feet tall. Spindly, with thin, reflective skin that showed off the structure of bones and tendons beneath. Their arms and legs were long, even for their frames, giving them a dangerous reach and leverage.

  As she watched, one of them grabbed a piece of metal on a table six feet away without even having to lean. He fit that piece into the opening of the ring, completing it. The second one picked up two paddles connected to the translucent ropes and pressed them to either side of that metal plate until it began to glow, and white-hot sparks radiated from the structure.

  As the light from the sparks hit the Fractogasts’ bodies, rainbows bounced off the tiny prisms that coated their skin. The effect was beautiful. Almost hypnotic.

  The spiky, glasslike hair on their narrow heads picked up the light and transmitted it to the ends until they glowed with an array of colors. Like fiber-optic filaments, each strand captured a tiny glow at the tip, giving them each a mane of rainbows.

  The deadliest creatures were often the most beautiful, and that certainly held true in this case.

  As the heat built, a Fractogast lifted his arm and slammed a tool on the glowing metal. More sparks sprayed out, and beside her, Brighton shifted in agitation.

  “That’s the hammer,” he whispered.

  Simone looked closer and sure enough, in the fist of the ’Gast was a sturdy hammer. It looked more like a child’s toy in such a giant grip, but with each pounding strike, the metal section being added to the ring bent easily under the hammer’s force.

  After only a few seconds, the hammering stopped, leaving the final section of the ring in place.

  One of the shells picked up an armful of discarded, tangled wire and headed their way.

  Simone pushed Brighton back, out of the way of the swinging doors. As soon as the shell passed, she darted forward, slipping through the door on the backswing.

  They both made it through, but the disruption of the motion of the door was obvious.

  One of the ’Gasts tilted its head to the side. Its tiny black eyes focused in their direction.

  Simone held her breath, willing the gaze of the ’Gast to pass over them. Brighton’s thumb stroked across the back of her hand, silently offering her reassurance.

  She knew they couldn’t see her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t figure out she was there.

  She checked the ground at their feet, searching for anything that might give away their presence. The dirt on the floor was too scuffed and smeared for her to make out any one distinct set of prints. If she and Brighton veered off into the dusty, unused areas, that might give them away, but as long as they stayed in the well-traveled areas, they would be fine.

  She hoped.

  The ’Gast let out a string of clicks, and several shells stopped what they were doing and shambled toward where she and Brighton stood.

  Simone knew that if they stayed put, eventually one of the shells would bump into them by sheer chance.

  Time to move.

  She tugged on Brighton’s hand, pulling him forward, closer to the ’Gasts. By the time the shells made it to where she and Brighton had been standing, they were ten feet closer to the hammer. And to the Fractogasts.

  She waited until the ’Gasts were convinced that all was well and went back to work before she rose up to whisper to Brighton. She was close enough that her lips grazed his skin as she spoke. “Boom in ten.”

  He mouthed the question. Boom?

  She put a single finger to her mouth, nodding.

  Tension radiated from his body. Whether he was nervous because of the impending boom, or if it had more to do with him fighting his urge to save those poor souls, she couldn’t be sure. And she wasn’t about to speak more than absolutely necessary to find out.

  The pair of small detonators in her purse were easy to reach, even one-handed. She flipped open the safety cover on the leftmost one and pushed the button.

  A second later, a deep, rumbling boom shook the ground beneath her boots.

  Brighton’s arm came around her, his grip strong enough to drive the air from her lungs. He spun her body, putting his own between her and the blast.

  Immediately, shells began hurrying toward the noise on the northern side of the building. Both ’Gasts abandoned their post, shoving their human puppets aside as they funneled out of the room.

  Within seconds the space was empty.

  “What was that?” asked Brighton.

  “Safety net. We’ll only have a few seconds before they figure out it was just a distraction.”

  “You get the hammer. I’ll get the people.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but it was too late. He’d already let go and was at the side of the young man, unbuckling the metal bands holding him in place.

  Simone released the effort it took to remain invisible so Brighton would be able to find her. She sprinted for the platform and grabbed the handle of the red-hot hammer.

  He lifted the kid down and held him on his feet while he regained his balance. He tried to talk, but no sound came out.

  “Just hang on,” said Brighton. “We’ll be out of here in a second.”

  Brighton thrust the kid at Simone, forcing her to set the hammer down by her foot so she could hold the kid up without burning him.

  He clung to her, and the desperation in his grip was one she remembered all too well.

  Brighton stopped in the process of freeing the older woman. “She’s gone,” he said.

  “Not for long. They’ll start her heart and lungs back up again as soon as they see she’s dead.”

  The Fractogasts would reanimate her body, just like they had all the rest.

  “Can you stand?” she asked the kid.

  He nodded and braced his feet apart.

  “Did you know that woman?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  Good. She didn’t want the kid to have any more scars than he already would.

  She pulled out a knife and went to the woman’s side. With one well-aimed thrust, the blade slid in between her ribs, severing a major artery near her heart.

  The ’Gasts might have been able to keep bodies moving, but they couldn’t repair that kind of damage. The old woman would never be used again.

  “Time to go,” said Brighton, grabbing the hammer from the floor.

  She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to cloak all three of them, but she was sure as hell going to try.

  She took the kid’s hand just as another giant Fractogast lumbered out from a connecting hallway.

  Reflexes honed from years of self-preservation had her hiding her presence instantly. The kid shimmered out of sight right along with her.

  Brighton, however, was still visible.

  The ’Gast saw him. Its beady eyes flared in recognition and it headed straight for him.

  4

  Marcus stepped in front of Simone and the boy as they vanished from sight. “Run,” he wh
ispered. “I’ll hold them off.”

  He briefly considered giving her the hammer, but it would have been visible, giving away her location. Assuming she was even still within arm’s reach.

  Marcus hoped like hell she wasn’t.

  As the Fractogast closed the distance, he pulled his ax from the loop on his belt, slid the hammer in its place, and rolled his wide shoulders. In an instant, all of the training his father had forced on him came roaring back.

  A fluid strength filled his limbs, leaving no room for fear. He fixed his grip on the haft and swung like his life depended on it. Which was fitting.

  The creature’s long arms gave it an unfair advantage. Marcus misjudged the ’Gast’s reach and took a heavy blow to the side of his head for the mistake. He was so stunned by the hit, he didn’t realize that he’d been airborne until he landed. Hard.

  His shoulder rammed into the device that had just drained that old lady. The whole ring rocked on its cables, detaching luminous filaments in a shower of sparks.

  His body crumpled to the ground, unable to move. His ears rang, and he wasn’t even sure which way was up.

  Pain finally caught up with the trauma he’d just endured, and the left side of his body began to throb as if it were still being pounded.

  Marcus took the pain as proof he was still alive, and pushed himself up, using his ax as a cane.

  The ’Gast was almost within reach again. Another slug like the last one, and Marcus wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up.

  A quick glance around the room showed nowhere to hide. The darkened corners and the space behind a giant shipping container would only cage him and serve as a surface the ’Gast could bounce him off.

  Running was an option, but for all he knew, he’d head right into another Fractogast and have two to deal with. Or a pile of shells. Those weren’t the kind of odds he’d survive.

  So he did the only thing he could think to do. He backed up onto the raised platform to where the newly finished ring stood.