With her sword in hand, Mindy started through the fence.
"Freeze,” George growled, his eyes reduced to mere slits.
Everybody went motionless.
Silently chewing the inside of his cheek, George stared at the manicured lawn. “Ed, got an EMS with you?"
I patted my hip. “Of course."
"Do a full spectrum scan, will ya?"
What an incredible paranoid the man was. But then, that's how you survive in the Bureau. I once got bit ‘where the sun don't shine’ because I thought a banister was safe to sit on. I had been very wrong.
"Natch,” I said in agreement, holstering a gun.
Reaching into the jacket of my sports coat, I removed a portable electromagnetic scanner and started a general sweep of the lawn. The readings went off the scale.
"Land mines,” I cursed, returning the device to my coat.
My team gave assorted noises of displeasure, but we kept it relatively clean, since Donaher was present.
"What kind of mines?” Katrina asked, a touch of fear marring her lovely face.
The big priest stared at her aghast. “Saints above, lass! What kind? The kind that go boom. Are there any others?"
"Who cares?” Raul stated cavalierly, the tiny bells on his yacht moccasins chiming a merry two o'clock. “We're mages. The mines won't go off when we walk on them. Katrina and I will blaze a path for the rest. Okay?"
As the only ex-soldiers in the group, George gave me a weary glance, and I returned the look with proper embellishments. Civilians!
"Wrong, Mr. Wizard,” George explained. “Some mines explode when you step on them. Others when you get near. And others detonate when you step on some other mine yards away. Plus, a few wait after being stepped on and then explode later."
Blinking hard, Raul turned paler than usual. “Good gods, why?"
"A delayed blast gets more of the invading group by exploding in the middle of them."
There was a long pause. “Oh,” he said softly.
"And some first ignite a small charge to shoot the huge secondary charge into the air so it explodes in your face,” I added succinctly.
"Or your groin,” George snarled as a curse. “I know a couple of soprano Marines who can testify to that. They're called Bouncing’ Bettys."
"The land mines, not the Marines,” he quickly corrected.
Morally outraged at the very concept, Father Donaher hawked to spit at the minefield, then paused in reflection, and swallowed instead. Wise move.
"So how do we get past them? Circle round to the main road?” Jessica asked, turning along the fence. Suddenly, the bushes and trees in that direction went very still. “No. Never mind. That's probably even better protected than this side exit."
"We could crawl along on our hands and knees probing the soil with a knife like they do in the old war movies,” Mindy suggested eagerly, drawing a foot-long butterfly knife from inside her shirt.
"Knifing may work, may not,” George growled, pulling the arming bolt on his M60 machine rifle. “But this definitely will."
In a thunderous roar, the weapon began spraying a stream of armor-piercing rounds into the ground, the big .30 bullets chewing a path through the manicured grass. A few meters away the soil exploded in a geyser of flame. Then a bit further out a dark metallic oval boomed into the air and then exploded at chest level. There was another of those, two more geysers and the bullets began impinging on the wooden fence. In a spray of splinters the clapboard collapsed offering us a path through to the town.
Releasing the trigger, a ringing silence engulfed us and for a moment everybody worked their jaws to try and stop the echoes in our ears. Wow. Dolby sense-a-surround, eat your heart out. Even the animated forest seemed temporarily stunned. However, I had been watching the town during the bombardment, and not a window curtain stirred, nor a light blinked on. Hadleyville appeared totally deserted. Yet, somehow, I had the feeling that we were not alone. Maybe it was only ghosts.
On the other hand, what the hell was this place? Augmented humanoids, animated trees, high tech proximity sensor wires, and a Whitman's Sampler of land mines. What had we stumbled upon here, a lost Bureau 13 base?
Obviously thinking along the same line, Mindy made the same observation aloud, Katrina asked for an explanation, and Jessica obliged. In the summer of 1977, an unknown foe had decimated the Bureau, killing 90% of our operatives in less than four hours. We still had no idea who, or why, it was done.
Only slightly less important than the identity of the mysterious foe, was the fact that a lot of files were lost in the aftermath, including the locations of hundreds of our secret hideouts. Mostly small boltholes, some only hidden rooms on the 13th floor of hotels, the covert locations were used as emergency hideouts and surveillance blinds. On rare occasions, a Bureau team relocated a lost base. The sites were usually deserted, sometimes with the bones of the original Bureau agents trapped behind magical doors that would no longer function. But once we discovered a bolthole turned into a foul nest for Cherubs of Hate, and another occupied by Tibetan Imperial Blood Slugs, the demonic escargot using Bureau 13 equipment and weapons to seek revenge on the staff of a local French restaurant. I shuddered at the memory of their illustrated menus. It was enough to make a grown man become a vegetarian. Feh. We reclaimed each base, but it was never fun.
In pensive thought, I ran a hand through my hair and scratched the outside of my brain. Could this be one of those scenarios? Was Hadleyville a lost Bureau location? Battling hell spawn armed with our own weapons was every agent's worst nightmare. Correct. Every sane agent. However, it was our job.
Summoning some pluck, I eased back the hammer on both Magnums. “Come on gang, let's go visit beautiful downtown Hadleyville."
In battle formation, we crept across the backyard and angled round the side of the house. That was when we realized why the perspective had been wrong on the building.
There was no front. Or more correctly, the entire front of the home had been squeezed into the rear. Smashed? The building was only about a foot thick, similar to a Hollywood false front used in a movie. Yet the whole structure was there. Just compressed.
Before moving past the house, Mindy eased her sword out into the front yard and wiggled it about. When nothing happened, she proceeded onward and one by one the entire team boldly tagged along. In passing, I noticed that the windows weren't even broken, and from somewhere inside, a light was still shining. Aye carumba.
Looking uptown and down, we could see that every house on this outer block was mushed the same way. The street was bare of cars, and the homes on the other side seemed okay, just odd somehow. As if it was difficult to focus my vision on them.
"Oh, Raul?” Katrina sang out, just as I was about too.
Thoughtfully, the mage scratched his head with his wand. That made me nervous, but then I relaxed when I realized that he was only doing it to aid the thinking process. Raul often went into itching fits when in the immediate presence of evil magic. This odd tendency of his had saved our butts more than once.
"Possible. If Hadleyville is indeed the source of that ethereal explosion,” the pale wizard conceded at last. “such a reaction as this is, theoretically, possible."
Stepping over a pile of smashed plaster ducks, Donaher held his pocket microscope pen to an accordioned window.
"Could there be survivors?” Katrina asked hopefully, squinting into the darkness. For a moment her eyes glowed red to let her see in the infrared spectrum.
"No way,” the Catholic priest stated flatly. In perfect harmony, the inside light flickered and the faded away. Bummer.
Ahead of us stretched a flat green lawn and a smooth black drive way made of macadam. Dividing the two was a path of irregularly spaced blue Virginia flagstone. We took the path.
Reaching the sidewalk, I observed that the street was completely empty of cars, and incredibly clean. The black asphalt seemed brand new, just like the driveway, without a Popsicle stick, leaf, or newsp
aper in evidence. Nor any potholes. That was suspicious as potholes were the official state animal of West Virginia.
With George and Katrina at the flank position, Mindy stepped off the curb and onto the street, her eyes constantly moving in search of danger. But as her sneaker touched the hard macadam, the material parted in a watery manner, and she instantly sank out of sight.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER FOUR
I moved as never before. Dropping my guns on the crumpled lawn, I insanely reached out, grabbed a hold of the lowering blade of Mindy's sword and bracing myself with both legs, yanked backwards with every ounce of strength I possessed! Searing pain filled the universe beyond imagination and I fainted.
* * * *
Trembling and sweaty, I came awake sitting on the grass with an oily black form lying nearby. It was roughly human-shaped, with the bloody end of a sword sticking out of one end. Chanting wildly, Raul lowered the end of his staff and a steamy discharge bathed the deadly quiet form of our friend. For a moment, the body was completely masked, then as the billowing fumes dispersed, Mindy appeared. Groaning mightily, she struggled to sit upright.
"Blah,” she said, and spit black onto the sidewalk. Like a living snake, the ebony fluid undulated along the concrete and into River Street.
As the team gathered close, I glanced at my hands. There was a pink line across each palm, and on every finger in a staggered pattern. When I closed my hands, the pattern joined to form a straight line. Carefully, I flexed my hands expecting agony, but everything felt fine. There was no pain.
"You have the good Father to thank,” Jess said, offering a hip flask.
Unscrewing the cap, I took a healthy swallow. Ah, ten-year-old, blended, Kentucky whiskey. Now that was a Healing spell.
"Thank Donaher for what?” I asked, returning the flask.
She stuffed the container into her camera bag. “Katrina magically healed your wounds, but when one of your thumbs was rolling away, Mike made a catch just before it reached the street and sank."
Wow, talk about giving a fellow a hand. As I struggled to my feet, an amazingly clean Mindy came over, grabbing my coat lapels, and proceeded to administer a kiss that could only be measured in amperes of high voltage. Something around the gigawatt range.
"Thank you,” she said afterwards.
Totally embarrassed, I retrieved my Magnums lying on the ground, and wiped some blood spots off the handles. Egad, I guess my brain had temporarily gone on hold. On the other hand, my ploy had worked and saved Mindy.
Balancing his humongous rifle expertly on a hip, George pushed back the cap on his head. “Well, this explains why a group of somethings went out to steal cars on the highway. I bet there isn't a working vehicle left in this whole town."
Glancing around, I agreed with the assessment.
"So how do we get across the street of death?” Father Donaher asked, brushing out his moustache. “Build a raft?"
Adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag, Jessica chuckled. “Thank you, Huck Finn."
"We can fly,” Raul offered, raising his staff.
Mages! They would use magic to open soda cans, and then actually be surprised when they ran out of power in the middle of a battle. Sheesh!
"No, we need a bridge,” I said, scanning the surrounding area.
Father Donaher tapped the barrel of his shotgun against a nearby telephone pole. “How about this?"
"Perfect,” I acknowledged, drawing my ultra-light weight Magnum. Removing the magical silencer, I assumed a regulation firing stance and snapped off six shots, neatly cutting the wires free from the crossbars of the pole. We Wyoming boys were born with a pistol in one hand and a beer in the other, which explained why my penmanship was so bad.
Most of the wires slumped to the ground, but one line fell to dangle into the street. There ensued a brutal tug-o-war which ended with the cable snapping off from the pole across the road and whipping into the macadam like a strand of spaghetti.
Having seen worse, we were unimpressed. My team once spent an entire summer stationed in Detroit.
"Ms. Jennings?” I requested, stepping aside.
Shifting her hips for a better stance, Mindy swung her sword and the blade went through the telephone pole to no apparent result. Then the thick pole slid apart on a sharp angle and toppled over to loudly crash onto the far sidewalk with pinpoint precision. The street bubbled with anger. Hmm.
"Raul, Katrina, maybe you'd better fly over as escort,” I instructed. “Just in case."
Gripping her staff, Katrina gave a nod and levitated into the air, while Raul snapped off a salute, and started running towards the sky as if ascending an invisible staircase. What a show-off.
Taking our time, each of us crossed over. Mindy skipped across as if she was on the balancing beam in the gym. Father Donaher slowly shuffled along, refusing to lift a foot from the surface of the pole. Holding the M60 machine rifle in both arms to aid his balance, George reached the far side with no problem. Jessica simply strolled along, while I scooted awkwardly on hands and knees. It was undignified, but efficient, especially since I can't swim.
But on reaching the other side, I heard a sharp wooden crack. I stood to see the telephone pole break apart into several pieces and sink into the street. That was when I noted the pair of fins moving along the macadam surface. Snorting my contempt, I rejoined the group. Piffle. It was only a transdimensional shark, you could kill ‘em with a standard Army bazooka. Big deal.
The houses on this block were made of semi-transparent glass. There were some loose stones lying on the ground, but as nobody seemed to be home, we decided against testing the old adage.
Skirting the houses, we scrambled over a backyard pine-board fence and found ourselves on the outer rim of a blast crater. Or at least, I couldn't think of anything else to call the pit.
Downtown Hadleyville spread out before us, reduced to layers of concentric bands. At our feet, was a ring of jumbled wilderness; machines and plants haphazardly piled together in pure chaos. Next came a circle of bubbling glass. But inside that was an island of normalcy: orderly streets, undamaged homes, and a shopping mall with a mirrored building in the far distance. However, I was starting to believe that in this goofy place, the more normal something appeared the greater the danger was. The first fluffy teddy bear toy I encountered was getting a grenade smack in the kisser.
Checking my sports coat, I found my long-range folding binoculars and trained them on the Hadleyville Hotel. The obvious question was, had the center of town magically exploded outward, or had the whole place gone boom, and only the center of town been shielded from the blast?
A modest ten-story building with a nice neon sign announcing a heated swimming pool, color TV in every room and happy hour at the Kon Tiki Lounge every Friday at six. The Pou-Pou was extra, but then, isn't it always?
But to my sunglasses there was a steady ethereal wind whirling round the upper structure of the building. Purple lightning crackled against bloated crimson clouds that moved under their own volition. A thick coat of primordial ooze dripped down the sides of the eerily twisting building, while dark muted shapes moved with inhuman purpose behind warped windows misty with cold yet moist with glowing slime.
The parking lot was a smooth expanse of empty black macadam. I could guess what happened to the cars. I'm surprised the asphalt wasn't burping, with a giant toothpick sticking out of its entrance ramp.
"Hey, there's an electronic crawl sign over by the Kon Tiki Lounge,” Jessica announced, fine focusing her pocket binoculars. “Welcome ... to the...” She dropped the binoculars. “Oh no."
"The what?” I demanded, trying to find what she had seen.
"Welcome to the First International Occult Convention of Hadleyville,” she read in a tiny voice.
Hoo boy.
"What now, comrades?” Katrina asked in concern, her butterfly tattoo peeking out from her cleavage for a moment. “Should we attack? Call for assistance? Run away?"
<
br /> Chewing a lip, I seriously debated doing that. “Not yet. We haven't encountered anything really dangerous. Let's go further. Our answers should be in that hotel."
"Agreed,” Donaher muttered. His oversized gold crucifix was held in both hands before him in a defensive position. “I sense great evil there. Yet everything inside is not evil."
"Fabulous,” Mindy groaned. “Some innocent bystander hiding in a broom closet, I suppose."
Touching her forehead out of an old habit to probe the building, Jessica suddenly lowered her hand and flashed red in embarrassment. “Could it be a trapped desk clerk?” she asked, helpless as a normal human.
Taking a firing stance, George snapped the bolt on his M60. “A hostage? Sacrifice?"
"I can not say for certain,” the priest said slowly. “But I strongly suggest we proceed with extreme caution."
"All is not as it seems,” Donaher added softly.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, George tilted his head to gaze upwards at the moaning structure. “Anybody got a clever idea how we can find out what happened inside the hotel?” he asked bluntly.
Ghostly figures moved in and out of the pulsating walls, while blood started to run out of one window to be licked up by another. The front door was full of sharp teeth and a fleshy tongue-like carpet lay panting on the concrete sidewalk.
Drawing the Model #66 I checked the scenario load: armor-piercing shell, silver bullet, blessed wooden bullet, mercury-tip explosive round, phosphorus incendiary slug and a hollow-point dum-dum. Good enough. I was loaded for were.
"Sure,” I said, easing back the hammers until they clicked into firing position. “We go inside."
"I was afraid you'd say that,” George mumbled, hitching up his belt. “Want me to stay here and guard our escape route?"
"Nope."
"I'll help,” Katrina offered kindly, beaming a grin.
"Sorry. Need you both to administer smelling salts in case I faint."
With a crazy smile, Mindy playfully punched the plump gunner on the arm. “Come on, guys. How often do we get to march into the jaws of death incarnate?"
Full Moonster [BUREAU 13 Book Three] Page 5
