“You don’t understand,” said Just James. “All I wanted to say? Thank you.” He gave a shy, crooked smile before he turned away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Stay in the car,” said Carlisle. “For fuck’s sake, stay in the car. Will you do that?” She looked at Danny, saw the other woman’s eyes were bright with something — not fear, but excitement. Carlisle clicked her fingers, and Danny’s eyes snapped towards her. Away from the soldiers and people outside, fighting with guns and fists and teeth. “Hey. Kendrick. This isn’t a movable feast. If you go out there, people are going to get dead.”
“It’s a bit past that,” said Danny, her voice taking on a dreamy edge. “It’s … beautiful.”
Carlisle sighed. Use a different road. You’re always too direct, Carlisle. “They will get dead because of you.”
That did it. Danny’s eyes turned from excited to haunted in less than a heartbeat. Carlisle felt a twinge inside, but that was tiny compared to what Danny would feel like if she woke up after … this. “Danny. Stay here.” She rolled her eyes towards Adalia. “With the kid.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, kicking her door open and spilling out into chaos. The hard, steady hammer of automatic weapons filled the air, and she looked down at her sidearm holding her hand like any good friend. Carlisle didn’t remember drawing it, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was being here, for them. She crouched down low next to the Yukon, looking around at the battlefield. A stray round punched a hole in the skin of the vehicle at her back, paint gone around a silver-bright pucker of wounded metal. She licked her lips, gripping her sidearm in both hands, and looked towards the—
Lost Warrior. That’s what they’d called her. No problem — woman wasn’t lost anymore, they’d found her. Only real problem, near as Carlisle could figure, was getting to her, and getting the hell out of Dodge. It wasn’t a question of what to do, just how to get it done. Get the Lost Warrior. Get larger transport. Get out of this batshit crazy situation. Keep your friends from getting dead. Maybe grab a beer and a lie down at the end.
The scene around Carlisle was making a certain kind of crazy sense. There were civilians who were running all over the place, attacking military personnel. The military were fighting back, but they didn’t have numbers on their side — down the road and stretching out towards the city was a long tongue of freeway, and it was full of people. A roaring mass of humanity, clawing up the road towards them. Okay, that problem you can solve if you stay alive for the next two minutes. It was clear they were in a temporary military camp because of the number of people in fatigues, but not a lot else was left of the place. No standing structures. Vehicles tipped on their sides. A lot of shit on fire.
A scream pulled her attention to the side, and she saw a teenage boy running at her, mouth an impossibly wide rictus. His eyes were bloodshot red. Her sidearm barked three times, the first round taking him in the shoulder, the second in the side, and the third in the back as he spun around to land face-first on the road. Carlisle’s attention was pulled back behind her as one of the Yukon’s doors slammed shut, and she poked her head up over the side, seeing Ajay standing out on the other side of the vehicle. He showed her white teeth under a face weary and stretched, then pointed with a hand at the Lost Warrior.
Carlisle nodded. Two was better than one, sure. She broke into a sprint across the tarmac, heading for the clump of soldiers. Looks like they’re trying some kind of last stand. It’s that kind of thinking that kept me out of the military.
On her right was Ajay, keeping pace but making it look effortless. Was he even running, or just moving through space? On her left, a pack of three came at her, arms pinwheeling as they clawed and pushed each other aside in their eagerness to reach her. She raised her sidearm, the Eagle heavy with comfort, and squeezed. She felt the release of the weapon, one of the zombies — because they’ve got to have a name, and that seems to fit — slamming backwards as the round took it in the chest. The momentum of its travel caused its legs to fly forward and it landed flat on its back, arms bouncing once as it came to rest. Carlisle moved her weapon sideways a hair, taking a breath, and fired again. The round went wide, clipping one of them on the shoulder — it careened to the side but still kept coming. She fired again, and its head disappeared, punched through like overripe fruit.
The third one was on her, and she ducked low under it, bringing her shoulder up into its middle and standing tall. It — a man, trim in a sports blazer — was tossed behind her. She turned, her sidearm ready, but Ajay was on it. He moved a foot through the air in an arc so graceful it could only have been capoeira. His heel connected with the zombie’s jaw and it went down in a graceful pirouette.
Carlisle raised an eyebrow at him. “No soldier, huh?”
“Just a sailor,” he said. “I’m a long way from shore.”
“They teach you dance on ships?” Carlisle worked her shoulders under her jacket, then took aim across the road at another four running at them. The kinks were out now, and she got them one-for-one, then ejected her clip onto the ground.
“I have learned many things,” said Ajay, holding a hand out towards the Lost Warrior’s group, “except how to find our way home. After you.”
“Careful,” said Carlisle. She pointed at the group. “Those guys might get confused.”
“Confusion is the least of their worries,” said Ajay. “Hurry, Detective.”
“I’m not a … you know, fuck it,” said Carlisle. She looked at the Lost Warrior’s group. It didn’t look like a happy team. She raised her voice. “Hey! Coming in. Hold your fire!”
One of the soldiers, a man holding onto his twenties with gritted teeth, looked at her. “Ma’am. Stand away! We will fire.”
The Lost Warrior placed a hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “Identify yourself.”
Carlisle caught her breath, then brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I—”
She was cut off by a ululation of sound as a wave of humanity crested around a fallen Humvee. A horde of zombies was scrabbling and clawing towards them, and she — fuck that noise — turned back towards the Yukon. She made two steps before what her eyes were seeing hit her brain and she stopped. The Yukon was surrounded by zombies, rocking the machine, pawing at the doors and windows.
A rear door smashed open, a human shape — thank God, she’s still human — came out. It was Danny, and she dived into the middle of the group at the side of the Yukon. There was a surge like a wave of people that rose over her, and she seemed to be swallowed by a mass of bodies. Carlisle watched that for a heartbeat too long, then turned back to the Lost Warrior. “Do you have a vehicle?”
The other woman looked at her with surprise. “What about your friend?”
“She’s fine,” said Carlisle. “It’s pretty important we get the fuck out of here though.”
“She’s … fine?” said the Lost Warrior. “But—”
There was a triumphant yell behind them, and bodies were tossed sideways as Danny came back up for air. She was cut and bleeding from a dozen places, her hair wild, clumps having been torn loose. She raised a man’s body above her, bringing him down into a backbreaker over her knee. She tossed him aside, her teeth pulled back in savage joy, then smashed a fist into a woman to her right. Carlisle watched as Danny put one foot against the leading knee of an opponent and landed an enzuigiri, using the man’s knee as support as she brought her other foot through the air and into the back of his head. Bodies surged back over the top of her, and for a moment Danny was gone from view again, before Carlisle saw a flash of red curls as her friend broke free, holding two bodies above her in triumph. She was screaming with rage and joy at the same time.
Carlisle turned away. “Lady? She’s fine!” She looked over the Lost Warrior’s shoulder, seeing the horde drawing closer. “Move it. Fucking move it!”
They broke into a run, Ajay and Carlisle leading the charge back towards the Yukon. They heard a yell behind them, and Carlisle spared
a glance to see one of the Lost Warrior’s remaining group go down, men and woman on top of him, biting and chewing. She turned without breaking her momentum, firing a single shot into the fallen soldier, before turning back into a run towards the Yukon. “Danny! Clear a path! Danny!”
Whether Danny heard her or not didn’t seem to make any difference. Danny was moving very fast now, kicks and punches landing with tremendous force against her opponents. One of her fists slammed into the forehead of a large man, caving his skull in. The back door of the Yukon was close, and Carlisle wrenched it open, pushing the Lost Warrior in beside Adalia. She saw the question on Adalia’s face, ignored it as she slammed the door closed behind them. Ajay was already jumping over the hood, sliding across to land on the other side. He yanked the door open, slinging himself into the driver’s seat, door closing behind him.
Carlisle looked around for the other soldiers of the Lost Warrior’s group, but they were gone, lost to the horde. There was a brief lull, and Carlisle looked at the bodies scattered about her, then looked up at Danny. Danny’s eyes were bright, yellow, feral. Carlisle took a cautious step forward. “Danny.”
“Yessss.” Danny’s voice was almost a growl, something in her jaw deformed, the word coming out wrong.
“I need to get her out of here,” said Carlisle. There wasn’t time, not to do this right. To get space, more distance between them. If Carlisle was going to do this, she wanted to do it from a mile or more away. She didn’t have a mile. “I … I need you to make a path.”
Danny’s nod was too vigorous, too eager. “And a Path You Shall Have.” There was weight behind the words. “We Will Carve It Through Their Flesh.”
Carlisle took a step back. “Uh, sure,” she said. “You know what this means.”
“I MUST CHANGE.” Danny didn’t even look at the horde racing towards them, her eyes were fixed on Carlisle’s weapon. Like it was the last glass of water on an Earth made of desert. “Set me free.”
“Yes,” said Carlisle. She raised her sidearm, pointing it at Danny’s heart. She tried to ignore just how eager, how hungry, Danny looked. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Carlisle pulled the trigger.
With howl that cut to Carlisle’s core, the beast was loose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“I guess I wanted to circle back around,” said Rex, “and make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“Old timer?” said John. “I know it’s a lot to take in, especially if you’re not used to change—”
“What the hell,” said Rex, “is that supposed to mean?”
John blinked at him. “Well, you know,” he said. “Baby Boomers, right? You guys can’t set the time on a microwave oven.”
“Right,” said Val. “Twelve o’clock flashers.”
Rex looked between the two of them. “Are you speaking English?”
“It’s nothing personal,” said John, showing some kind of brilliant smile that Rex just knew would make a woman swoon. He hated the man for it, just a little, if he was honest. “It’s just every place I’ve seen that’s been owned by a fossil has all the digital clocks set at double-oh, double-oh.”
“A fossil?” Rex felt his face getting hot. Relax, Rex. Relax. Boy just needs some of the silly knocked out of him. “You think I’m a … a fossil?”
“You prefer leatherface?” said John. “It sounds a bit Jack-the-Ripper, is all I’m saying, but we can go with it.”
“John Miles,” said Sky, “you behave.” She placed a cool hand on Rex’s shoulder, leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek. “He’s just feeling unmanned and has issues when he’s not the center of the universe.”
“I am,” said John, “the center of the … what do you mean, unmanned?”
“I mean,” said Sky, “that this fossil managed to work with me to get Just James—” and here, she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the kid, playing on that portable game gadget “—here, alive, in the middle of a war zone. Isn’t that your job, hero?”
“Hey,” said John, that brilliant smile coming back again, “I ain’t no hero. I’m, what do you call it, I’ve got my own spin-off series.”
“Like Angel,” said Just James, not looking up.
“Like Angel,” said John, nodding. “Exactly.”
“What?” said Rex.
“From Buffy,” said Just James, casting a wearied eye at Rex. “Don’t you watch TV?”
“I watch TV,” said Rex. “I don’t watch kid’s shows.”
Sky pulled her hand from Rex’s shoulder. “Are you … what’s wrong with Buffy?”
“What?” said Rex. God damn, I am definitely too old for this shit. “No. Hey. Wait. Let’s try again,” he said. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could reset the last minute’s conversation. Hell with it. “What I was trying for, is to see if we’re all … if we’ve got a plan.”
“No,” said Val.
“No?” said Rex.
“No, we don’t have a plan,” said Val. “I — and by I, I mean, John and I — are going to find out what’s going on.”
“We are?” said John.
“And,” said Val, looking Rex in the eye, “you are not going to come with us. Because you will die.”
“Son,” said Rex, “I’m pretty close to dead anyway, how the clock is running these days. I think you’re overlooking one small issue.”
“Okay,” said Val, “I’ll bite.”
“That’s just it,” said Rex. “You won’t.”
“What?” Val blinked at him.
“You’ve lost your powers, son,” said Rex. “You’ve got a cape made of Kryptonite. Unless I miss my count, Sky here killed more damn spiders than you did.”
“It’s not a competition,” said John. “It’s—”
“It’s not a competition unless you’re winning,” said Rex. “Son, look, I know. I get it. You’re used to the way things used to work. The thing is, this whole saving the world thing is a team sport.”
“You … you want to save the world?” said Val.
“What, you think you got exclusive rights to that?” said Rex. He scratched his head. “I’ve been saving people all my life. One burning building at a time. This?” He waved a hand at the window. “This is just a larger problem.”
“Epic,” said Just James, not looking up.
“What?” said Rex.
“We’re at the boss fight,” said Just James, putting his game console aside. “We’ve got to get all the equipment we’ve collected, hop on a horse, and go save the princess. But there’s a boss, a big bad monster, and we’ve got to kill it.”
Sky nudged the Ramset gun with a foot. “I don’t know how much equipment we’ve collected.”
“There is a boss,” said John, nodding.
“Right,” said Just James. “So, we get the party together, and we—”
“Whoa,” said Rex. “What’s this party?”
Just James looked surprised. “You. Val. John. Sky. Me.”
“No,” said Rex. “Not you.”
“’What, you think you got exclusive rights to that?’” said Just James, in a fair approximation of Rex’s West Coast accent. “This is my city. Of all of you, I figure I’ve got the most—” he shrugged, struggling for the word.
“Incentive,” said Val.
“Incentive,” said Just James.
“Investment,” said John.
“That too,” said Just James.
“Idiocy,” said Sky. “I can do I-words too.”
“Imbecile,” said Rex. “I like this game.”
Just James looked a little hurt. Then he brightened. “Seriously, though. What you’ve got to be wondering is what you might be able to do to stop me.” He looked around the room at them. “One of you want to stay behind and babysit?” He pointed at the big screen attached to the wall, green spider ichor splashed across it. “It’s not like we can grab a TV dinner and a movie.”
“I hate kids,” said John.
“Say,” said Val. He was looking out
the window.
“Yeah?” said Rex, turning to face him.
“It’s got pretty quiet, hasn’t it?” Rex watched as Val tilted his head, a curious movement more at home on a dog than a person. “Still a lot of smoke. Not a lot of screaming.”
They all sat in silence for a moment. “Sure,” said John. “It’s quiet.”
“Where do you suppose they’ve all gone?” said Val. He squinted out the window.
Rex pushed himself to his feet. Damn these old bones. He joined Val at the window. “You’re right. Not a soul.”
“Everyone’s at a party,” said John. No one laughed. “Tough crowd,” he muttered.
Val held a hand up. “There.”
Rex watched as a horde of people swarmed along the street underneath them. They were moving at a dead run, scrambling over the cars and other debris outside. He started to count, ten, twenty, thirty, then gave up when a huge clot of humanity rounded a corner and joined the stream of bodies. “Where you think they’re going?”
“I think,” said Val, “that my girlfriend has come back to town.”
“Rock on,” said John. “It’s about damned time.”
“How do you know this, son?” Rex searched Val’s eyes.
Val looked down at his hands, then raised one — the tremble in his fingers obvious even to Rex’s eyes — to touch his chest above his heart. “I feel it.”
“She up for a fight like that?” Rex nodded out the window.
“More or less,” said Val. “She is powered by a lithium awesome cell.”
“I mean—” Rex caught himself. “Is she going to be okay?”
“It’s a lot of dudes,” said Just James.
“She’ll be fine,” said Val. “But this helps with our plan.”
“What plan?” said Rex. “Hell. That’s what I asked to start with.”
“The plan,” said Val, “is like this. One, we break into a jeweler’s.”
“Fucken-A,” said John.
Val shot him a flat stare. “We find all the silver we can, and turn it into weapons.”
“How?” said Rex. The way he saw it was, maybe Val had taken a hit in the head. He’d seen it before, men and women who’d taken the hard knock without realizing it. Gone down a line of thinking that put others in danger. Trick was, you wanted to make sure that this was … thought through. Rex shifted on his feet for a moment, then said, “I’ll bite. How do you turn a silver necklace into a weapon?”
Night's Fall (Night's Champion Book 2) Page 21
