by Lucas Flint
Once again, I aimed and, timing my lasers just right, fired a powerful blast of energy at Iron Angel. Unfortunately, Iron Angel noticed it and dodged at the last second, but it did give Rubberman a chance to jump down from the tree. As soon as he landed, he ran toward me, waving his hands at me, probably trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what until the sound of jet engines roared above me and I looked up in time to see Iron Angel coming toward me like a bat from out of the darkness.
Iron Angel’s claws sank into my shoulders and he lifted me into the air. His claws even pierced my suit, going into my skin and making me cry out in pain. We rapidly flew into the sky until Iron Angel, completely without warning, threw me back down toward the ground. Shocked and in pain, I could only stare up mindlessly at the sky as I drew closer and closer to the ground, where I expected all of my bones to get broken into itty bitty pieces upon impact.
At the last second, Rubberman appeared underneath me and suddenly stretched his hands up toward me. His hands rapidly expanded until they soon resembled a large, misshapen trampoline. When I landed on it, I bounced up and down a few times before Rubberman’s elongated fingers wrapped around me and gently lowered me to the ground.
“Beams, are you okay?” said Rubberman as his hands snapped back to their normal size and shape. “Your shoulders look terrible.”
I winced, feeling my shoulders bleeding. “Yeah, they hurt, but I think they’ll be—”
I was interrupted by the sound of roaring engines above us. I looked up to see Iron Angel flying toward us, his claws now gleaming with my fresh blood. Rubberman grabbed me and pulled us both to the ground, allowing Iron Angel’s claws to barely miss us as he pulled up and flew out of our reach again.
“He’s fast,” I said, looking up at Iron Angel, who was now hovering in the air hundreds of feet above us, glaring down at us like an angel pronouncing judgment on mankind. “And strong. How do we beat him? Knock out his wings?”
“Yes,” said Rubberman. “Try to knock out the jet engines specifically. Without the engines, his wings have no way of keeping him afloat.”
“But he’s too fast for me to get a lock on,” I said. “How am I supposed to take out his wings when he doesn’t stay still for longer than two seconds?”
Rubberman opened his mouth, perhaps to give an idea, but then Iron Angel suddenly dive bombed us. Rubberman and I split, allowing Iron Angel to miss us both; at least, I thought he did until he suddenly landed on the ground and spun in a circle, smacking both of us with his wings.
The impact of his wings sent me staggering backwards. I almost fell, but managed to retain my balance by leaning on a tombstone. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that it was Winged Gal’s tombstone, which, despite being ten years old, was still in pretty good condition. In addition, I noticed a bag lying on the ground next to the tombstone, a bag which I recognized as Iron Angel’s travel bag. Poking out of the bag was that jar with the purple resurrection potion in it that Rubberman had told me about. It seemed like Iron Angel had dropped his bag at some point, perhaps when he attacked Rubberman.
An idea occurred to me, a way to beat Iron Angel, though it would be incredibly risky to do. Nonetheless, I snatched the jar from the bag and turned once again to see how the fight between Iron Angel and Rubberman was going.
Not as well as I’d hoped. As I watched, Iron Angel lunged at Rubberman, seemingly in an attempt to claw him. Rubberman dodged him by jumping to the side, which was when Iron Angel suddenly changed course and slashed at Rubberman with his wing. Clearly taken by surprise by this move, Rubberman just stood there as Iron Angel’s wing cut a deep, ugly wound in his chest, causing Rubberman to shout in pain and fall over. Iron Angel moved in, his claws reaching for Rubberman’s throat.
With a yell, I fired my most powerful blast of energy yet. The blast tore through the air and struck Iron Angel in the back, forcing him to stagger forward a few steps, but then he whirled around, spotted me, and, with a deeply inhuman growl, soared toward me on his demonic wings. He reached me in an instant and slammed me against Winged Gal’s tombstone, his claws digging into the marble tombstone and pinning my neck against it. Once again, I found that I couldn’t breathe, but I could look up at Iron Angel’s expressionless mask.
“It is sad,” Iron Angel whispered, in a voice that was somehow much worse than a scream, “sad how this industry corrupts the minds of children like yourself. If you had not been so foolish, perhaps you would have been able to live an ordinary life. Now, however, you will die, die on the grave of another sidekick, which is what you deserve.”
His grip around my neck suddenly tightened and he pulled me off the ground. He whirled around and slammed me against the ground, almost causing me to let go of the jar, but I didn’t. Even so, the impact jarred my senses, making it impossible for me to react. His grip on my neck tightened more than ever; I nearly blacked out immediately, but somehow managed to retain my consciousness, though I doubted I would be able to gather enough energy to fire even a weak beam from my eyes.
“I should kill Rubberman first,” said Iron Angel in a ragged voice. “But you have caused me so much trouble that I feel like making an example of you. Perhaps if I kill you, Rubberman will realize just how terrible this industry is. Not that it will matter, because I will sacrifice him to bring back Winged Gal no matter what.”
I had little time left. My consciousness was rapidly going away. I squinted my eyes and fired a small, but precise, laser at the latches around the face of his helmet.
The lasers destroyed the latches, causing Iron Angel’s mask to flip open, revealing his angry but surprised face. But I didn’t hesitate. With what little strength I could gather, I hurled the glass jar at Iron Angel’s face. As soon as it left my hand, I fired another beam, this one stronger than the last one, except I didn’t aim for his face. I aimed for the jar full of resurrection potion, which collided with his face at the same time that my lasers struck it.
The jar full of resurrection potion exploded directly in front of Iron Angel’s exposed face. Iron Angel screamed in pain and let go of me, staggering backwards as he clutched at his own face. Some of the goop got on my suit, but it was too little to matter and none of it got onto my skin. I immediately sat up and inhaled the air as deeply as I could, the cold winter air soothing my burning lungs.
But I didn’t have time to sit around and enjoy the air, because Iron Angel was still active. Rising slowly to my feet, I looked at Iron Angel to see how the resurrection potion had affected him.
He was kneeling in front of Winged Gal’s tombstone, his back to me. One hand clutched the tombstone, almost cracking it, while his other claw covered his face. He was cursing and crying at the same time, making it hard for me to understand what he was saying. He still seemed to be alive, but I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at this point.
Then I heard footsteps behind me and looked over my shoulder in time to see Rubberman walking toward me. Well, it was more like limping. He was clutching his bleeding chest wound, which looked raw, ugly, and bloody.
“Rubberman?” I said. “Why are you walking? You should be resting. That wound—”
Rubberman shook his head. “I’ll manage. I’ve suffered worse injuries than this before. Trust me.”
“But Iron Angel is still alive,” I said. “He could still kill you.”
“Could he?” said Rubberman. “Look at him and tell me what you think.”
Puzzled, I looked at Iron Angel again. He was now openly weeping in front of Winged Gal’s grave, his claws digging into the tombstone and chipping portions of it off.
This time, I could actually hear what he was saying: “Forgive me, Hilary, forgive me for failing to save you. Everything I’ve worked toward … all of it … is falling apart.”
Suddenly, Iron Angel stopped sobbing. His grip on the tombstone became so tight that he actually shattered the upper portion of the tombstone. He rose up to his feet and whirled around to face us. His face was stil
l hidden by his other claw; however, I could see his eyes, which were now a deep, sickening yellow, very much unlike his normal blue ones.
“Give it up, Iron Angel,” said Rubberman. “It’s over. Your vigilantes are dead and you will be, too, if you don’t get medical assistance soon.”
Iron Angel’s free claw shook. “No. I may not be able to resurrect Hillary, but I can still tear you two apart limb from limb. Even with my face on fire, I will dedicate the last moments of my life to ending yours.”
Damn it. Iron Angel had a point. Rubberman’s chest wound looked a lot more serious than he made it out to be, while I myself was starting to feel exhausted from the fight of the last five or ten minutes, not helped by my bleeding shoulders. If Iron Angel attacked now, he would probably win. Even if the Necromantress’ zombies mobbed him afterward, we’d still be dead.
Nonetheless, I prepared to fire more lasers, while Rubberman raised his fists in his usual fighting stance. The way I saw it, if we could hit him just right, we might be able to knock him out in a blow or two. He was already badly wounded himself. It wouldn’t take too much more from us to finish him off.
Right before any of us could do anything, however, the roar of a car engine filled the air and, as if by magic, the Rubbermobile burst through several nearby tombstones and slammed into Iron Angel. The impact sent Iron Angel flying uncontrollably. He crashed into the ground and hit the foot of a tree, where he lay as still as death, not moving even one inch.
Taken by surprise, I looked at the Rubbermobile in astonishment. “Rubberband, is that you?”
There was no answer, at least until the window on the driver’s side of the car rolled down, showing a familiar elderly, mustached face smiling at us.
My jaw fell open. “Adams? Is that you?”
“It is indeed me, young Mr. Beams,” said Adams from within the Rubbermobile, “and I believe that I just saved both of your lives thanks to my timely intervention. You can thank me once you get over your shock.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Adams spoke so casually about taking out Iron Angel that I thought he might have been joking, that this was all some sort of weird dream or hallucination I was experiencing. I looked at Rubberman for confirmation that neither Adams nor the Rubbermobile were there, but Rubberman was just smiling as if everything had just happened according to plan.
“Good job, Adams,” said Rubberman, giving him the thumbs up. “I wasn’t sure you got my message, but I can now see quite clearly that you did.”
“Your message?” I said. “What message? When did you contact him?” I looked at Adams again. “And Adams, I thought you were dead.”
Adams shook his head. “Sorry to say that I am as alive as ever. It was a close one, though, because those vigilantes are at least as bloodthirsty as any common crook on the street. ‘Twas thanks to you, Beams, that I managed to get away entirely.”
I blinked. “Huh? I don’t understand.”
“Do you remember how I set off the Elastic Cave’s sprinklers to distract the vigilantes so you could escape?” asked Adams.
I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
“Well, all of the vigilantes on Level One ignored me to go after you,” said Adams. “So I took the elevator down to Level Two, got the Rubbermobile, and escaped the Elastic Cave. It was tricky, because my injuries still haven’t entirely healed, but I managed to keep my head down until Rubberman sent me a message via his radiocom, which I picked up on the Rubbermobile’s radio system.”
“I sent him a message asking for backup after we came up with the plan,” said Rubberman. “Like I said, I didn’t know if he got the message or not, but his timing was impeccable. One second too late and we both would have been dead.”
“I am always on time, Mr. Pullman,” said Adams with a huff. “I thought you would know that by now, given how many years I’ve worked for you. I would never let even the most painful of injuries keep me from fulfilling my duty to you.”
“Thanks, Adams,” said Rubberman. “I really—”
Suddenly, Rubberman grunted and fell to his knees. He clutched his bloody chest wound tighter than ever, while I put a hand on his back and said, “Boss, are you okay? Is it your wound?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Rubberman in a tight voice. “It’s not as bad as it—” He broke off, groaning in pain.
“No, boss, your wound is as bad as it looks,” I said. I looked at Adams. “Adams, we need to get Rubberman to the hospital. I’ll get him into the back seats of the Rubbermobile. If we’re fast, we should be able to get him to the hospital before his wound becomes infected.”
“Good plan, Beams,” said Adams in a dry voice. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll have to convince these ruffians to let us go first.”
Puzzled, I looked around at our surroundings and my heart failed me when I saw just who these ‘ruffians’ Adams was referring to were.
Surrounding us on all sides were the Necromantress’ zombies. There were about three dozen in all, forming a tight circle around us, leaving no gap we could use to escape. Most of the zombies were in absolutely terrible condition, most missing at least one limb, but despite how weak they looked, I knew better than to judge by appearances. These zombies had just finished tearing apart Iron Angel’s Vigilante Legion. In fact, one of the zombies was cheering on something that looked like Glue Gun’s right arm like a chicken leg.
Thankfully, the zombies seemed more interested in containing us than in killing us, but I was all too aware that if they chose to descend on us, they would probably kill us all. Even Adams wasn’t safe, especially if the zombies managed to pop the tires or find some other way to stop the Rubbermobile. Rubberman was in no condition to fight and neither was I. I might be able to take down a few zombies with my eye beams, but I would still be overwhelmed through their sheer numbers alone.
Then the Necromantress stepped out from behind a particularly tall zombie. She walked a few steps forward, but stopped well away from us, one hand on her hip, the other hidden behind her back. Her crazy smile looked even more threatening than it normally did, as if she was about to take part in the tastiest meal she would ever eat.
“The Necromantress,” I said. “I thought you had run away or something.”
The Necromantress sighed. “Still no gratitude. Yes, you truly are Dennis’ sidekick. But the Necromantress doesn’t care. All that matters is letting you know that the Necromantress did not run anywhere. She never flees from a fight unless it is one she can’t win.”
“Or her head would blow up if she did,” I said. “You know, with the tracking collar and all.”
The Necromantress’ smile grew larger. “What collar?”
The Necromantress brushed aside a portion of her hair, showing me that her neck was completely bare. The tracking collar was totally absent.
“What?” I said in shock. “Where did the collar go?”
“Right here,” said the Necromantress.
She pulled her hand out from behind her back and threw something at me. When the object landed in front of me and Rubberman, I saw that it was the tracking collar, except broken, its red light no longer blinking.
I looked up at the Necromantress in horror. “How did you do that? I thought the collar would explode if you tried to remove it.”
“The Necromantress knows a spell or two that can negate even the most advanced technology,” the Necromantress replied. “It took a little while to cast, however, which was the main reason the Necromantress stayed out of the fight. Now the Necromantress is free once more to do as she pleases.”
I gulped. We were now at the mercy of Rubberman’s crazy ex-wife, which meant we were doomed. I wondered what kind of awful things Rubberman had done in the past to get us such terrible karma, because whatever it was, it had come back to bite us in the ass hard.
“Rubberman, what do we do?” I said, looking at Rubberman in fear. “Do you think we can beat her?”
Rubberman shook his head. “No. If … if it was just her,
we would have a chance, but with her zombie army, there’s no way we’d stand a chance. She’s got us exactly where she wants us.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear at all. Nonetheless, I said, “Then we have to fight anyway, right? Better to die fighting than on our knees.”
“More or less,” said Rubberman. “Help me stand. My chest hurts too much for me to do it on my own.”
“There’s no need to stand, Dennis,” said the Necromantress suddenly. “You clearly are not in any condition to move. You would look more pitiful than you normally do if you tried.”
“Why should we listen to you?” I said. “Maybe Rubberman wants to stand so he can fight like a man, rather than die like a coward.”
The Necromantress tilted her head to the side. “When did the Necromantress say she was going to kill either of you?”
“What?” I said. I glanced at Rubberman again. “But you hate Rubberman, right? Haven’t you been trying to kill him since your divorce?”
The Necromantress shrugged. “It is true that the Necromantress has made it her life goal to kill Dennis, but after what she saw today, she’s decided that she is going to spare Dennis today. And, of course, you and his butler.”
I blinked several times. “You’re joking, right?”
“The Necromantress does not joke,” the Necromantress insisted. “Yes, she jabs and pokes fun at her enemies, but she never ‘jokes.’ She is always serious.”
“That’s one of the reasons we didn’t work out together as a couple,” Rubberman muttered, though I didn’t pay attention to what he said.
“But I still don’t understand,” I said. I gestured wildly at the zombies around us. “Look at the situation. You’ve got us surrounded on all sides. All of us are badly wounded and tired, especially Rubberman, who can barely even stand on his own. Why would you give up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Not that I’m angry about it, but it just doesn’t make sense to me.”
