Only two Ugly were left to creep from the open doorways. They glanced about suspiciously, then charged at the dazed Guardian survivors and clubbed the men’s skulls to mush with the butts of their rifles. They paused to rest, then felt a great spray of blood splash onto them; nearby, their berserker comrade hacked up the remains of the other Guardians with wild swings from his battleaxe.
“Got a jeep after all!” said one, peering within. “Shit was worth it! Oh, oh, oh, looks like that ain’t all we got!” he said, pulling a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher from the jeep and hefting it in the air.
“Ni-i-i-ice!” said the other. “You better give it here, before you hurt yeself!”
“Suck on it, punk!”
“I lost friends! I deserve recompense-ations!”
The berserker ambled up to the two to join in the argument, shouting, “I know for a fact that you din’t even know those guys, you little shit!”
There was a sharp crack. The berserker stumbled back. He turned slowly, black rushing down his face as it bubbled from his open head. He slapped into the ground, blood splashing out before him. The two other Ugly looked around wide-eyed. Their dragon god had already moved on. One crouched and leaned against the jeep while the other sidestepped through the dark. Just when they saw movement further down the street, another shot rang out and the sidestepping Ugly twirled about and fell to his knees, gripping his chest.
Wodan ran forward, long rifle held under his armpit. The Ugly fired a submachine gun in his direction. Wodan ran sideways, then crouched behind a building. He peered around the side and saw the Ugly clambering into the jeep. A second Ugly still knelt on the ground, hand on his chest, wheezing. Wodan raised the rifle to his eye and aimed. Fired once, the rifle kicked, then fired again blindly. The Ugly in the jeep fell on the ground, hand on his ass, screaming and kicking, pushing out a trail of blood behind him.
Wodan ran forward and kicked the submachine gun out of the way. He picked up the rocket launcher, then climbed into the jeep. The wounded Ugly screamed at him below. Wodan stared ahead - and saw the great red dragon in the distance, lightning arcing from its mouth. The smoking hulk of a vehicle lay behind it, with dead, smoking Guardians scattered about. The monster was immense, impossibly huge. It turned sideways, scaly face lit by the shower of sparks falling like froth from its hellish mouth. Wodan had never seen a devil more terrifying. His hands shook as he put the jeep in reverse, scraped it along the building, and turned it about in the street. He heard a dull thud behind him and realized he had just run over the Ugly he had shot in the chest. He angled about and drove forward, making sure the twitching pile would not give him any more trouble.
He put the jeep in park, hefted the rocket launcher onto his shoulder, and faced the giant flesh dragon.
Wodan aimed and, when he pulled the trigger, he realized it was one of the dumbest things he had ever done. The rocket pushed through the air, slowly, unwilling to return, and Wodan could clearly see the light from its hind end casting light and weird shadows around the darkened square, on high walls and open windows and even on the scales of the towering lizard. Red, shimmering. The rocket hit and flared white. The beast shut its eyes and was nudged sideways as bits of scales from its long neck clattered along its shoulders and tinkled delicately on the street below.
Wodan dropped the launcher and flung himself into the driver’s seat, threw the gear, and stomped the gas. Heard tires squeal - then heard the bone-shattering cry of the great lizard threatening to blast his skull to pieces, even saw windows shatter on either side of the avenue as he turned, hard, and flew into a side street. The wind whipped in his face.
The fear was mind-numbing. Pushed the jeep harder, faster. Glanced back, saw for a moment the dragon rounding the corner, charging on all fours, throwing up concrete all around. He faced forward, heard the pounding of the thing behind him. Closer, too close. Checked the sideview, saw it shaking in a blur.
The dragon tore up the street in its run, gathered speed, extended its wings in a tight arc, leaped and caught wind, then flew ahead and nearly overtook the jeep. Grated its tongue once, hard, shot sparks that ignited the terrible thunder in its gullet. Wodan turned onto another street and leaned over as he nearly flipped the jeep. As soon as he heard the thundering stop, he turned again. The tires smeared black on the road and nearly ignited as he scraped along the ground. Wodan braked just as the tail end of the jeep slammed into a dead light post; the jeep tore the thing from the ground, then he hit the gas once again. From a distance, the lightning of the dragon lit the ground all around the intersection. Wodan felt the hairs on his head stand up, crackling, as the area behind him was demolished. As the dragon flew by the intersection, it shot out an arm, grabbed the side of a building at the corner, and flung itself around, tearing up the side of the building and flinging glass and bricks all around as it tried to stop its flight. The dragon crashed into the ground. Parked vehicles hopped into the air and were shattered by raining debris. The dragon continued chasing the jeep. Further ahead it saw a huge building covered with spotlights. It saw a line of enemy soldiers firing at the jeep. The dragon charged.
* * *
Prime Minister Aegis Vachs sat in the dimly lit bunker with the Book of the Red stretched out on his knees. Seloid Cramer sat at a battery-powered computer terminal, monitoring Guardian transmissions from its radio connection. Six white-suited Office Guardian bodyguards stalked about, fingering shotguns and automatic handguns.
Vachs cleared his throat dramatically, then read, “Then the Ghost saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Ghost was sorry that He had made man on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart. So, said the Ghost, ‘I will destroy man whom I have created, and also beasts, whose insides he has touched, even creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made them.’ Indeed the earth was corrupt, for all flesh had been corrupted by man.”
The Guardians seemed disheartened, and glanced at their Minister suspiciously. He continued. “And the Ghost said to Noah, ‘The end of all flesh has come before Me, for the earth is filled with violence through living. And behold! I will destroy violent flesh with the earth.’ ”
Suddenly Vachs laughed lightly, and clapped his hands together once. Just then there was a pounding at the steel door. An Office Guardian rushed up to it, gun raised.
“Let me in!” cried a voice.
“What’s the password?” said the Guardian.
“This is Shem Udo, goddammit! The Secundus!” said the voice, pounding frantically.
Vachs nodded to the Guardian, who turned the massive handle at the door’s center. The steel door slid open slowly and Shem Udo pushed the Guardian to the side. A train of young Guardian tech and comm men entered behind him. He glared about angrily, face pink, and shouted, “Where’s Chipper?!”
“How should I know?” said Vachs quietly, serenely. “What do you care, my friend?”
“Get that goddamn door shut!” Udo shouted behind him, as the Guardian was already locking the door in place.
“How goes the battle?” said Vachs lightly.
“Battle?! It’s a goddamned slaughter! I ordered what was left of my men to form an impenetrable perimeter around the Ministerial Palace.” Udo paced the room nervously, flexing his fists and glaring at the floor. “Aegis, you know Clash ordered me to abandon you to those jackals? You know that?!”
“No,” said Vachs. “No, I did not. How petty.”
“Yes! A petty power-play. Unbelievable! Un-be-e-e... labbabel!”
“Shem! Get a hold of yourself. You’re starting to speak gibberish again.”
The radio squawked terribly just as they felt a dull vibration shake the bunker. Seloid Cramer leaned forward to hear. A strange sort of current seemed to run through the room, tickling their necks and cooking sweat from their brows.
“A demon is attacking the Palace,” said Cramer, voice clipped and s
harp. “It’s one of the giants we’ve been hearing about.”
Udo reached at his side, felt nothing, then grabbed a radio from a tech. “The hell is going on up there!” he screamed.
“... tore through... meter... was nothing! Lightning... shooting lightning!” said a tinny voice, garbled with static.
Udo’s jaw twitched up and down.
The radio cleared for a moment, then the voice said, “We’re inside, sir. I’m setting up men at all the windows, sending units to all floors to fire down at the thing. Gods, it’s huge!”
“Fire at it from the windows!” Udo screamed. “I want that thing brought down! Now!”
“We’re on it, sir! I-” The voice yelled commands at someone else, then another.
“Get back on the radio, goddammit!” screamed Udo. “How did that thing know to attack us here? At our most valuable location?”
“Uh, some civilian was running from the thing, it just happened to attack here, was all. I’m sending men to...”
While they listened to the unit leader on the radio, Cramer lifted his head suddenly. Furrowed his brow, scratched his chin. “Sir!” he said to Vachs. “We need to find out what that civilian looks like!”
Aegis shook his head to quiet the boy, then thought better of it, said, “Shem! Ask him what the civilian looked like.”
“Stop!” said Udo, interrupting the technical details. “You, what did the civilian look like?”
“Uh,” said the voice, distracted. “Brown hair, s’about all I could make out. We got no lights anymore, sir, and now our spotlights are-” There was a high-pitched bleating of static on the far end, then the wail of a signal dying.
“Sir,” said Cramer, “we already know that the dungeon’s been blasted, so...”
Vachs realized he had no idea that the dungeon had been blasted. Probably Cramer had mentioned it earlier.
“... I think it might be that boy, that murderer, come to make an assassination attempt.”
“Lormis Lamdrang,” said Vachs knowingly. “So it’s come to this.”
“No, sir, the boy they called the “superman” - Wodan Kyner!”
“You think he got out of the dungeon? Gets a bit of freedom and look what he does with it!” said Vachs, laughing.
“What of it?!” shouted Udo, trying to drown out the laughter.
Vachs held a hand up to silence Cramer, then said, “Friend, I’m not going to have some killer stalking about upstairs just waiting for us to open this door so he can have a clear shot at Haven’s favorite man. Now go up there and make sure it isn’t him.”
Udo stared at him. He pointed at the door, said, “But why don’t we just-”
“Kill him!” hissed Vachs. “Now!”
“God dammit,” spat Udo. He felt at his empty holster, then held a hand out to a tech who gave him a handgun. “Well, I’m going to take your bodyguards, then.”
“Fine.”
“They answer to me, anyway, you know!”
“Fine, I said. I’ll be safe in here.”
The six Guardian bodyguards lined up. Udo pointed at the tech and comm men, four in number, and said, “You’re coming, too.”
They glanced at one another, then swallowed hard.
As they filed out the door, Vachs turned to Cramer and smiled slightly. He reached into his jacket and produced a long revolver.
“Mister Cramer. I won’t be seeing that boy any time today.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cramer, taking the revolver. “I’ll give him the brush-off.”
* * *
The great armored brown-and-gold flesh dragon strode through a darkened avenue, black snow falling through a spotlight waving behind him. In his wake rode a troop of Ugly in commandeered jeeps and sitting atop a scorched Third Force tank. They had met with no resistance in this part of the island, not far from the center, and they idly shot up windows and signs and chanted praise to the god before them, noblest of all dragons.
A rocket spat just over the dragon’s head from a side street, smacked into a dead light post, and sent chips of metal raining down. The Ugly cried out as the dragon whirled about, growling a deep bass that rumbled in their chests. It bared its teeth and stalked ahead. The jeep with the spotlight shot ahead, took the turn, then braked. An Ugly in the back repositioned the light ahead.
Far down the street they saw a lone figure dressed in sleek black armor with a jet black cloak flapping about. The figure slowly knelt, picked up another rocket, then loaded it into a launcher. The figure stood tall, unmoving.
The dragon took slow, heavy steps. The Ugly remained behind and shouted at the figure. It slowly unlatched its black helm, removed it, and dropped it into the filthy snow. Yarek Clash glared at the invaders.
Strapped to his back was his heavy-duty automatic rifle, a gun so heavy that many men could not lift it without assistance. Grenades hung from a cord at his side, nestled against his legendary handgun Teufelmorder. A grappling-hook gun was tucked into one boot; his wicked combat knife was sheathed in the other.
“Tired already?” said Yarek. “Your god looks weak to me.”
The Ugly redoubled their foul curses. One even raked a knife across his face in quick horizontal lines, full of the glory of his lord. The flesh dragon kept its steady pace. Cracks spread through the pavement with each footfall, booming louder as it drew near.
Thin wires stretched across the dragon’s face and pulled taut. Incredible, deafening explosions tore through the buildings on either side of the dragon as it set off tripwires, blinding the beast and battering its armor with a shower of rubble. The dragon recoiled in fury and swung its tail so violently that it tore through the jeeps behind it, obliterating Ugly bodies and shattering the spotlight with a violent crash. The dragon backed up shrieking and shaking its head, and even bashed the tank into the side of a building with such force that its occupants were knocked unconscious. Twelve Reavers on rooftops on either side of the avenue fired heavy machineguns onto the dragon. Yarek raised the launcher, fired his rocket at the beast, dropped the weapon and ran forward at an angle and unslung the heavy rifle from his back even before the rocket hit the dragon in the face. The rocket exploded in a brilliant flash; the armored monster screwed its eyes shut, lifted onto its hind legs, and cried out so loudly that several Ugly passed out. The few who were left standing turned and fled, screaming in terror.
Yarek fired armor-piercing round after round into the belly of the thing as he ran, leaping over chunks of rubble and finding his footing based on instinct alone. The thing glared down at him from high above, then let the top half of its body descend slowly. Yarek ran under the thing. He had no idea whether his or the other Reavers’ bullets were having any effect. His gun clicked empty. He leaped into the air just as the monster’s forelegs slammed into the earth, throwing up slabs of concrete all around; Yarek hit the ground, slid, and rolled under the thing’s back legs. Yarek dropped his rifle, grabbed his bundle of grenades with one hand, then leaped and grabbed onto a thorny hind leg with his free hand. The dragon danced about and Yarek strained his entire body to hold on. He could feel the vibrations of rockets smacking into the monster’s back. He bit pins from grenades, spat out mouthfuls of metal, then wrapped the entire cord of grenades around a scale and pushed off. Landed on his back, rolled, and scurried away. He ran toward a building, looked back, saw the dragon glaring down at him, mouth opening ominously, row upon row of teeth flashing in the rocket-fire kissing its back. The grenades exploded near the dragon’s belly and it crouched in pain.
When the dragon pushed itself back up, Yarek saw that the leg was whole; sprained, at best. The dragon sidestepped, glaring at him with eyes full of hate. Yarek glanced to the side and saw a Reaver lowering himself down the side of a building on a line; the fighter released, fell, and landed on the battered tank. Instinct gripped Yarek and he leaped to the side, rolled, and was back on his feet just as the dragon’s horned head slammed into a building nearby, tossing concrete and dust into the air. No other man i
n Haven could have avoided the dragon’s charge, but Yarek knew that even he could not dance with this monster for very long.
* * *
The jeep screeched to a halt in the middle of the airfield and Mevrik and the other pilots hopped out. Guardians in and out of armor ran about fueling and shouting. Her heart rose at the sight of the intact helicopters; tears streaked down her face as two of them rose heavily and angled towards the north. The field was small, its ships few - but they were there, a last hope.
She saw an Attack Eagle Gunship on the periphery with a fuel truck backing away from it. Guardians stood clustered about it. Gunners, she hoped. She ran toward the thing full tilt, flew past the crowd, then shouted, “Who wants to take on a god?!” Saw a blur of confused faces, then two men immediately stepped from the crowd, a grizzled half-armored northern country-boy in a sleeveless shirt and a sleek looking Guardian in sunglasses. They climbed inside the gunship and checked the ammunition feeds on the massive machineguns at either port. Mevrik realized she didn’t even have a helmet as she kicked the engine on and strapped herself in.
“Hope ya know how t’fly this thang,” said the country boy. “Cause I sure as shit kin shoot, girl.”
“I’m gonna fly it right up some demon’s ass,” said Mevrik, “so you get your trigger finger ready for it!”
The sunglasses Guardian smiled wickedly and said, “Let’s send these bastards back to hell.”
The heavy gunship rose into the air. Others rose to join it, blades spinning, dark armor shining, the last of Haven’s aerial forces.
* * *
Wodan hid in the darkness of the Ministerial Palace and listened to the chaos of Guardians screaming, gunfire, and boots stomping above him. In the dark he saw flashes of white light, then the terrifying burst of demonic thunderclaps - the wild blows of the dragon as it attacked the entire building.
The Palace shook as the dragon climbed, eager to find him, willing to kill anything that moved.
Pale blue emergency lights flickered on. Wodan was on the first floor, which was called the Memory House. Noble statues towered over him, stoic faces drawn in regal lines. A memory of better times, now the center of the whirlwind of chaos and murder. He heard water showering on the floor above as emergency sprinklers worked to douse fires.
Demonworld Book 2: The Pig Devils Page 24
