“Or you could cut your tongue out with it,” she said.
“Heh-heh,” Oliver said. “You’ve got spirit.” He ran the tip of the blade down her cheek, making a paper-thin cut. “It’s going to be fun watching you bleed.”
CHAPTER 34
Sid balled up her fist.
Oliver glanced down at her side and said, “Don’t get wise, little lady. You’ll only bust a nail, and I’ll bust you.” He slapped her hard on the ass, half lifting her out of her shoes. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
Sidney lashed out. Turning into a back spin, she drove her elbow into his face. It crushed the cartilage that formed the bridge of his nose.
Oliver staggered back. “What the—”
Sid drove her booted foot into his gut, doubling him over. In a cat-quick move, she leg-swept his feet, knocking him flat onto his back. She heard laughing. Warren Ratson held Cyrus by the neck. His fingers were crushing his throat.
“I could snap it like a chicken’s,” Warren said. He shook Cyrus. “What a fleck of a man.”
Sidney’s ears caught a rustle on the metal deck. She turned.
Striking with speed that defied his size, Oliver pounced on top of her. He pinned her down, clamped his hand over her throat, and pulled his fist back to strike.
“That’s enough!” A strong feminine voice echoed in the hollow metal chamber. “This is a business transaction. Not a bar fight.”
Deanne Drukker stood on one of the catwalks overlooking the main floor. She was dressed in black cargo pants and a sleeveless camo shirt. Her hips sported a pair of Luger-like guns.
Oliver released Sid’s throat and leaned back. He pushed his nose back into place with a sickening crunch. He took a big snort of air. He pointed his sausage-sized finger into Sid’s face. “I’ll get you.” He stood up and moved away.
Sid gathered her feet beneath her and rose back up.
Warren Ratson dropped Cyrus to the new-metal floor.
The flabby man fell to his knees and started coughing.
Sid helped him back to his feet and said up to Deanne, “I was hoping I’d see you at Ted’s funeral.”
“I bet you were,” Deanne replied. “Sorry I couldn’t be there, but hey, I just didn’t care.” She put her fingers to her lips and made a sharp whistle. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got things to do.”
A pair of upright gurneys with two bodies strapped to them were being pushed her way. On them were Rebecca and Winslow. Both of them had bizarre masks over their faces, something similar to what Sid had seen in The Silence of the Lambs.
“Looks like you forgot the straitjackets,” Sid said with disdain. “Is that really necessary?”
“The Ratson brothers have a twisted sense of humor,” Deanne said from above. “Which is odd for deaders.”
“We’re not entirely dead,” Oliver said with a grunt. “Just mostly dead.” He rolled the sleeves up on his meaty arms. They were coated in mesmerizing tattoos filled with what seemed to be living arcane symbols. “Bet you ain’t ever seen anything like that before, have you, Sweetheart?” He gave Sid a wink.
“They say anything you see on TV can become reality,” Sid said, “so it doesn’t surprise me. Who knows, if you survive long enough, maybe you’ll get your own reality TV show.”
“She’s a funny one,” Oliver said up toward Deanne. “I can see why you like her.”
“Charming, aren’t they?” Deanne said. She walked over the planks of the catwalk and made her way down a set of spiraling stairs. Upon hitting the main floor, she approached, stopping in between the undead Ratson brothers. “They are quite the marvel. Bloodless but still alive, thanks to the supernatural and some arcane medical advances. How can you kill something that cannot bleed?”
“Are you a deader too?” Sidney said to Deanne.
The woman stiffened at the remark. Regaining her composure, she said, “No. I can still bleed. For the time being,” she said with a wink. “Now, I believe you have something for me. If all goes well, then we can part ways in peace. And Sid, you really need to get away from all this.”
“I won’t stop until I’ve taken you down. You can count on that.”
Deanne huffed. “We’ll see. You never know. You might just change your mind about that. I thought like you once.” She laid her eyes on Cyrus. “All right, Specs. Get the payment.” She patted the gun on her side. “And don’t try to be clever.”
Cyrus slid over to the car and retrieved the little silver case with the bitcoin codes in it. He tried to hand it to Deanne.
She sneered at him. “Open it.”
Cyrus complied. The inside of the case revealed a small chip tethered to a smartphone cable. He plucked it up and dangled it in front of her face. “I don’t think it’s dangerous.”
Deanne received it and plugged the device into her phone. “Bitcoin. Pretty hard to trace the source. What will the world of greedy men—and women—think of next? And the funny thing is, bitcoin is pretty volatile right now. But a few well-placed articles posted in the Wall Street Journal, and boom, one billion becomes ten. I just love how those one-percenters think.”
“Of course you would,” Sidney said. She was making a little small talk while scanning the insides of the ship. Her stomach filled with butterflies. Her hands turned clammy. Other than Deanne, the Ratson brothers, and the two deaders, there wasn’t anyone else in there. It seemed odd. There had to be more. There was merchandise everywhere. “I hope you enjoy your cut,” she added.
“It’s uploading to our account,” Deanne said, staring at her phone’s screen. Keeping her eyes fixed on that, she said, “Oh, I don’t do it for the money. I do it for the power. I do it for the thrill of it. It’s so exhilarating.” Her mouth fell open, and her brows buckled. “What’s this?” She stormed over to Cyrus and stuck the phone in his face. “What’s this?”
“Uh,” Cyrus said, blanching, “it looks like only a hundred million dollars. Look, I didn’t have anything to do with that. I’m just here to pick up and—”
Deanne punched him in the face. Whack! She smashed her phone on the floor. “Kill them! Kill them all!”
Quick as a snake, Oliver Ratson caught Sid up in his arms and picked her up off her feet.
Deanne then pulled out her guns and pointed one down at Cyrus and the other at Sid. “Aw, hell, I’ll do it myself.”
CHAPTER 35
Cyrus balled up into the fetal position and peed his pants.
Sydney could feel Deanne begin to squeeze the trigger. “No, wait!” she said.
“You had your chance,” Deanne said.
Out of nowhere, the unexpected happened. The trunk of Sid’s rental car, the silver Dodge Charger, popped open.
Deanne pulled her gun barrel up and cocked her head. “Check it out,” she said to Warren Ratson, who stood to her right.
“Okay, Boss.” The muscle-packed deader started toward the rear of the car. Just as he started to pass the hood, the car bounced a little. A tall, rangy man stepped into view.
Sid’s heart leapt.
Smoke stood tall. Dressed in black attire from neck to toe, he seemed to leer down at all of them. In his large hands, he held a monster of a machine gun like a toy. It was an M-60, just like the one Rambo used in the movies. Smoke had two bandoliers of ammo crisscrossed over his shoulders. He lowered the barrel at Warren. “Don’t move, dead man.”
Warren froze but managed to cluck a chuckle. “You can’t kill me. Go ahead. Take your best shot.”
Smoke pulled the weapon tight to his chest and took aim. He squeezed the trigger.
Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa!
The first burst of ammo bored a hole through Warren’s head so big that you could see clean through. The second burst tore out his heart. The third left the undead man disemboweled. Warren Ratson staggered around on clay feet before collapsing with a heavy thunk onto the ship’s hull.
“Any more volunteers?” Smoke said. He pointed the smoking barrel
at Deanne. “We’re going to be leaving, and you’ll be coming with.”
“You! You! You killed my brother!” Oliver Ratson screamed.
He was still bear hugging Sid. His powerful arms were squeezing her ribs.
She winced.
All puffed up and chest heaving, he rambled on. “You’ll pay! You’ll pay!”
“He might not be dead. He’s still twitching,” Smoke said. “Now, make yourself useful and get down on your hands and knees. Both of you.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Smoke,” Deanne said. She had both guns out, one pointed at Sid and the other at Cyrus. The woman was filled with eerie confidence. “You see, this ship, it’s filled with deaders. And the only live person walking away from here will be me.” She tipped her head toward Winslow. The man was wide eyed on the gurney. “And probably him. I guess we’ll just have to skim our money off him. And of course, I’ll have to put a nice hole in your girlfriend.”
“She not my girlfriend,” Smoke said. His eyes found Sid’s. “Are you?”
Hands half up, she said, “No.”
“You don’t sound very certain,” Smoke said. “Are you sure about that?”
No. “Yes.” Sid glared at him. “This isn’t the time for that.”
“Oh, I think it is. I love to hear the famous last words of people who are half in the grave,” Deanne said. “Believe me, I’ve heard the worst of them. So cliché almost every time. They tell me, ‘You’ll burn in hell’ for this or that. Or, ‘I’ll see you in hell.’ I’d be curious to hear what the both of you have to say. It’s always so much more delicious watching people who care about each other go down.”
“We aren’t going down,” Sid said. “You are.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Deanne took a full step closer and pointed her Luger at Sid’s nose. “Mr. Smoke. Set your weapon down or watch your, well, wannabe girlfriend die. I’ll do it, you know.”
“You’re a murderer,” Smoke said with a dark threat in his voice. “And murderers have to die.”
“Oh, you won’t kill me,” Deanne said. “That’s why they picked you out over many others. Sure, you’ll kill the monsters, but you always spare the men—and women. It’s such a weakness for those who hold onto such lofty standards. That’s what separates the haves from the have-nots, you know. Conscience. People like me prey on fools like you. Now, set down the weapon, Smoke, and slide it over here.”
“You’re a murderer, and murderers have to die,” Smoke said again.
“Stop saying that!” Deanne said. She jerked her head. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Give up your weapon.”
Smoke set the machine gun down and slid it far away. He held his hands up. “You’re a murderer, and murderers have to die.”
“Ugh,” Deanne sneered. “You really shouldn’t have said that again.” She took aim at Smoke with her left hand and fired. Blam!
CHAPTER 36
Sid’s limbs froze.
The shot rang out, echoing loudly inside the metal hull of the ship.
Smoke spun around and fell to the deck.
Sid fought against her captor, Oliver, but he held her fast. Finally, she pulled her tongue off the roof of her mouth and said, “You’re evil!”
“And a good shot. Don’t forget that,” Deanne said.
“Not that good,” the voice of Smoke said. He stood on his feet again. His countenance was fierce. Stark. “You missed.”
Face contorted in rage, Deanne started to blast away with both barrels. Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! The loud shots echoed all around. Bullet holes peppered Sid’s rental car. Smoke, like a panther, slipped into cover and vanished.
From somewhere behind the car, Smoke said it again. “You’re a murderer. Murderers have to die.”
“Deaders,” Deanne said to the two goons behind the gurneys. She motioned to Sid. “Seize her.”
Just as Oliver released her, the two deaders latched onto her arms.
“Oliver, kill Smoke!” Deanne ordered. She started to circle the vehicle, firing shot after shot until her magazines emptied. “Dammit!” She bounced the guns off the floor. “Dammit!”
Sidney noticed Cyrus was still huddled on the new-metal hull with his eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t even cracked them open to see what was going on. Deanne walked over and kicked him hard in the back several times. Cyrus groaned. Deanne kicked him again.
Now, in front of a captive audience, Smoke and Oliver circled Sid’s rented Dodge Charger.
“I’m going to tear you in half for what you did to my brother,” Oliver said. He drove his fist into the car and put a dent into it. He crossed over the front of the car, shifting back and forth, trying to figure out which way Smoke would go. “What’s the matter? You chicken?”
“No,” Smoke said, mostly hidden by the popped-open trunk. “I’m just reloading.” He slammed the trunk shut and stood with a synthetic shotgun in his hands. “Come and get some.”
“Huh. Those little bits of grain won’t stop me!” Like a great ape, Oliver leapt onto the hood of the car and scrambled over the roof.
Smoke opened fire. Ka-blam! Ka-blam! Ka-blam!
Chunks of flesh were ripped from Oliver’s body, but he churned on and pounced on top of Smoke. The two vast men thrashed back and forth. They punched. Kneed. Kicked. A heavyweight bout of two relentless champions.
“This is good,” Sid heard Deanne say. “Real good.”
Smoke broke free and backpedaled away. His face was bleeding, and his shoulder dangled. Oliver circled him with hands clutching open and closed. Half of his face was shot off, revealing lots of teeth. A chunk of shoulder and another of leg were gone as well. “I’m going to make you feel every bit of what you did to my brother.”
Sid recoiled in her captors’ arms. Her heart sank. It was clear that Smoke’s shoulder was dislocated. Oliver, with his supernaturally charged hulking frame, would make good on his words. He’d tear him apart. I hope he has on his Sweet Heart suit.
“I don’t guess you’ll be getting an engagement ring anytime soon,” Deanne said to her. She put her fists on her hips. “This will be good. Just wish I had some popcorn.”
Oliver charged.
There was a flash of silver like a strike of lightning. Oliver stopped in his tracks and glanced down. A blade was sunk hilt deep into his chest. “Aw, shit.” He dropped onto his knees and toppled over on his side.
Smoke limped over to the car and leaned against it, panting. Bracing himself against the car, he shoved his shoulder back into place and yelled. He sagged to the hull floor, beaded in blood and sweat.
“Bravo,” Deanne said, plucking up one of Sidney’s knives. “And after all that, I’m still going to kill you all.” She came at Sid. “You first.”
CHAPTER 37
Held fast by the deaders, Sidney used their strength as an anchor. She leapt upward, launching a kick, disarming Deanne, and flipping over. Using her leverage, she pulled the deaders’ heads together, loosening their grip. She twisted free.
“Seize her,” Deanne ordered again. “Seize her!”
The deaders clutched after Sid.
Gunshots rang out. Blam! Blam!
The deaders recoiled. Each had a hole in the head. Adjacent to them, Cyrus had his Glock on them. The deaders resumed their attack on Sid. “Why aren’t they falling?” he said with wide eyes.
“They aren’t zombies,” Sid cried out, trying to free herself from their clutches.
In a burst of movement, Deanne dashed away and wrenched the Glock from Cyrus’s hands. She then said, “You have to shoot the heart.” Blam! Blam!
The deaders fell flat.
Deanne cracked Cyrus between the eyes with the butt of the weapon and sent him bleeding to the shiny metal floor. She then turned the gun on Sid. “It’s still over.”
“Over?” Sid said, cracking her neck from side to side. She shifted into a fighting stance. “If you’re such a badass, why don’t you show me what you got?”
“Oh ho, I see the
golden princess has some vengeance in her eyes.” Deanne smiled. “I trained Ted. Ted trained you. This will be interesting. I tell you what. You win, I’m your prisoner. You lose? Well, you all die. And just to make sure that my efforts are secured,” she put her fingers to her lips and let out a sharp whistle, “I’m bringing in some special referees.”
The interior of the sweltering ship started to rattle. From the dark exterior of the ship’s hull came a shuffling of feet. Deaders were coming. They moved slowly but determined. A mix of men and women, half-animated with blank faces. They held heavy working tools like clubs. On their heads were metal bands with faint blinking lights. They wore dark-navy pea coats with beige jumpsuits underneath. Twenty or so encircled all of them.
Sidney took a deep draw through her nose. She thought about Ted. His family. His friends. She set her jaw. “Let’s do this.”
“Let’s do,” Deanne said. “Ding. Ding.” She came in high, feinted down, and executed a perfect leg sweep.
Sid landed flat on her back. “Oof!” On instinct, she pushed herself back to her feet. That was fast. Really fast. Sid had fought plenty of people in her days. Men. Women. She had a case filled with trophies from tournaments, but none of that compared to what it was like when your life was on the line.
“If you want, you can just give up, and I’ll make it easy,” Deanne said.
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Deanne lunged in. She kicked high. Punched low. Landed shot after shot after shot. Wap! Wap! Wap!
Sid counterpunched. Counterkicked.
Deanne slipped away, drove in again, and lit up her ribs. “Stings, doesn’t it, little Sidney?” Deanne backed off and circled. “Yeah, those Sweet Heart suits are really good against puncture wounds, but that won’t stop me from jangling up your innards.” She mopped the sweat from her eyes. “This is where I’d normally say you’ll be sore tomorrow, but you’ll be long dead before sunrise.”
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