by J. A. Pitts
I rose to my feet and stumbled after the smoking chopper. It didn’t fall from the sky, but slid sideways across the tree line, the body spinning counter to the blade rotation.
I stopped at one of the dead pilots, ripped off a long swath of cloth from his flight suit, and wrapped my hand three times, clenching the ends in my fist. Blood soaked the cloth, but I felt no pain. Not yet, anyhow. I slipped the .45 out of the holster under his arm and awkwardly chambered a round.
I stumbled along, watching for the enemy, keeping the chopper in my peripheral vision. The wounded started getting to their feet, and the battles began anew.
Fifty-four
THE CHOPPER SLICED ACROSS THE SKY. WHETHER GUIDED BY A dying pilot, or carried by the winds of fate, the huge machine veered back toward the battlefield and crashed with the horrid shriek of rending metal.
The front rotors smashed into the ground like cannon fire. Brendon Lord had been pushing Titan hard to get out of the way, but the chopper came in too quickly. Titan was smashed to the side by one of the blades and Brendon’s mailed body flew toward the barn.
Several giants and trolls were either crushed by the body of the craft, or cut to pudding by the blades as they beat themselves into the ground.
Katie, dear God.
The wreckage was catastrophic. Could anyone survive that?
I ran forward, determined to pull that damn machine apart with my bare hands if I had to.
The chopper lurched upward, almost a bounce. Then lurched again.
On the third time, the doors on the top side exploded into the air.
The dragon erupted from the metal cocoon, large black wings unfurled, eighty feet from tip to tip. With a large sweep, they pulled hard against the night sky, launching the sleek, scaled body upward.
I raised the .45 and pulled the trigger. The first shot belched from the gun with an odd snapping sound. If I hit the dragon, I couldn’t tell. He didn’t slow. I pulled the trigger four more times, but the gun never fired again. I pulled the clip, and there were rounds there.
I’d lost the dragon, in any case. I tossed the pistol aside and rushed forward. “Katie!” I shouted, reaching the copter. I could see the dead pilots inside the shattered cockpit as I scrambled up over the wreckage.
I jumped, catching one of the front wheel wells, and leveraged myself upward. Climbing up the bottom of the chopper proved easier than one may think. From the damage, and the protruding bits, I managed to reach the peak and look over into the twisted ruin.
Katie lay crumpled in the bottom, against the far door. I grasped the lip of the opening and lowered myself as far as I could. I swung a little before loosening my grip, so as to not land on Katie.
The chopper shook when I landed. I was at her side in an instant.
“I’m here, Katie,” I whispered.
She didn’t move, so I sat on a smashed cabinet and stroked her face, crying. “You’re okay, baby,” I said. “I’m here.”
Outside, the screams of the dragon echoed across the countryside, but they sounded tinny inside this shell.
“I’ll kill the bastard,” I whispered, feeling her for breaks and searching for life-threatening wounds.
She stiffened and I froze. “Katie?” I asked.
She lived, thanks be.
“Hey,” she said, relaxing a bit and turning her head toward me. “You feeling me up?” She winced when she moved.
I laughed through the tears, a moment of pure joy.
“Anytime you’ll let me,” I promised.
“Liar,” she said with a smile.
Things in my life had been murky. Shadows and hidden meanings. In that chopper, with the smoke and battle swirling around us, I finally understood the only thing that mattered. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Sorry for everything—the fear, and the shame . . .” I trailed off, overwhelmed.
She watched me, not saying anything. After a moment she reached up and stroked the side of my face. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, capturing her hand in my own. “I love you, Katie.”
She smiled. “I know, you freak.”
Of course she did.
“You are just stubborn, and pigheaded and afraid,” she said.
“Is that all?”
“No,” she said. “There is one more thing.”
I waited, knowing that I had much to atone for in my fear and anxiety. “Only one?” I asked.
“Kiss me,” she said.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers. Her skin was ashen and her lips were split, but I touched mine against hers, gently.
“That’s better,” she said. “Can we go home now?”
I helped her sit up. She was covered in welts and bruises. He’d hit her, a lot, the bastard. I’d pull his wings off him, if I had the chance.
“Not sure how we are getting out,” I said. “We could . . .”
Something large smashed against the top of the chopper. I looked up to see the dragon perched on top of us, his long neck craned down to press his narrow head into the doorway. He smiled, darted his head forward.
I dove over Katie, covering her with my body. She gasped as my weight pushed on her chest. Gnashing, foot-long teeth snapped together in the space I had just been in.
“Sorry,” I said, pushing myself upward, and launched a full booted kick to the side of the dragon’s head.
He whipped his head to the side, bouncing against a dislocated luggage rack, and bellowed in pain.
“Come on, you pussy,” I growled, scrambling off Katie and darting forward again. Talk about target of opportunity. Before me was his gorgeous eye, about the size of a dinner plate. The iris was black with a mixture of gold.
I punched it for all I was worth. It felt like punching a bag of pudding. My arm sank forward, past the wrist, and a thick, milky liquid splashed over my arm and down the front of me.
His shriek reverberated inside the chopper, and I fell, covering my ears. His right eye gaped as he blinked bloody tears. Noxious vapors rose from his nostrils and a smoking liquid dripped from between his teeth, splashing on the shattered seats. The thick canvas material began to smolder.
He swung his head around, faster than I imagined possible, and smashed me to the side, the scales along his cheek grating along my chain. The links parted with a ringing snap.
I fell onto my side, the impact of his face knocking the wind out of me. I couldn’t draw enough breath.
Breathe.
Why didn’t he breathe inside the chopper? Turn us both into charcoal.
Then I saw it. The sword was wedged under one of the shattered seats. If he toasted us, he toasted the sword.
The first breath I could suck in hurt like a bitch, but it was better than the alternative.
He pulled his head back out near the top of the hole and looked around with his good left eye.
“Come on . . . you . . . coward,” I gasped, trying to stand. “Fight . . . like a . . . man.”
He swung his good eye around to me and snorted. Smoke and ash spewed over me, blinding me for a moment, causing me to cough.
My chest burned. I needed fresh air.
I fell, blacking out for a bit.
Katie’s mouth was pressed against my own. She breathed into me, pushing air into my battered lungs. I rolled over, coughing.
“Where’s . . .?” I choked.
“He’s gone,” she said, cradling my head. “He’s gone.”
Then we were moving.
“He’s lifting us,” Katie said. She had crawled onto one of the cushioned bench seats that had remained bolted to the floor, huddling with her knees up to her chest.
I looked forward to the busted cockpit windows as we swung around.
“Hang on,” I shouted, and we flopped through the air.
I dove for Katie’s seat, covering her with my body, protecting her from more harm.
We bounced when we smashed to the ground
.
“That chain is a bit rough,” Katie said when I rolled off of her.
“Sorry,” I said, grinning sheepishly. Somewhere high above us, the dragon roared. “We gotta get out of here.”
She sat up, looking around. We were right side up this time, but tilted forward. We’d landed on something or some things and the tail of the chopper rose into the air at a good thirty-degree angle.
There were openings on either side of the chopper. To my left, a pair of giant legs appeared, and something large and heavy smashed against the rear of the chopper. To my right, there was an opening between several broken bodies.
“Come on,” I said, crawling forward.
We made it to the door as the first giant reached in, ripping out the seat we’d just been in. Katie scrambled past me to the churned-up grass and I rolled out of the chopper as the seat was flung after us.
A face like a smashed penny poked in, followed by a pair of large hands, ripping the opening wider.
The chopper rocked forward, the rear going higher into the air.
We ran a few steps, Katie hobbling along across the broken ground, and I stopped. She’d make it from here.
“Run for the barn,” I said. “I have to go back.”
“For what?” she asked, turning.
“The sword,” I said. “They can’t have it.”
She looked past me, concerned. “Be careful,” she said, scrambling back to kiss me on the nose. “Don’t get killed.”
“No chance,” I said, running back into the gaping wreckage. I’d seen the sword near the back, wedged in behind one of the benches that ran along the last half of the cargo area.
Fifty-five
I HAD TO CLIMB UPWARD AT A PRETTY STIFF ANGLE WHILE ONE of the giants scrambled the insides of the mangled chopper, searching for the same thing, no doubt.
He was wedged inside the wreckage. How so many of them had fit inside here was beyond me. Powerful magic, that. I slipped past a fallen set of cabinets, and he reached round, clipping my hip.
“Get off,” I said, pushing his hand away. I slid down to catch my feet on a broken cargo support strut, and the calloused hand raked along my body, bouncing my head against the metal floor, sending stars racing behind my eyes.
I grabbed a twisted punched metal strap and hauled myself upward toward the sword. The giant poked his head around the cabinets, getting his bearings.
There was no loose debris near me, having all rolled down toward the cockpit. I felt naked without a weapon. I could’ve punched him, but he outweighed me by a few hundred pounds. Instead, I continued climbing.
We saw the sword at the same time. I leapt from a bench support, assisting my momentum by grabbing the bench and pulling upward.
The giant scrambled after me, forcing the balance to tip toward the back, and I fell ass over teakettle toward the rear of the chopper, past the sword and against the rear wall.
I covered my head as loose debris, metal plating, and shattered Plexiglas rained down on me.
The giant caught himself on a broken bench. He pulled one of the cabinets loose and dropped it on top of me. I twisted, taking the brunt of the force on my back and shoulder. I didn’t feel anything get past the chain, but it was worse than getting kicked by a horse.
The sword hung by the leather harnessing, trapped on one of the many twisted bolts that stood out. I pushed the cabinet to the side as the giant pulled himself upward to the front of the chopper, tipping his balance too far forward. He grabbed the sword by the scabbard, tangling the harness in his fingers.
“Not today,” I said, pushing off the floor—wall—whatever, and jumping. I was just able to wrap my hands in the harness, pulling the giant more off balance. He slid backward, catching some part of his clothing on a piece of the wreckage. I swung in a slow circle, my boots a good four feet from the pile of debris and sharp, pointy metal bits.
We remained in that position for several seconds, each debating our next move.
I pulled myself upward. All those hours hammering metal had some benefit. The giant pushed with his feet against the remaining bench, leveraging himself toward the front. If he could tilt the balance back, I’d fall into his lap.
Someone else must have caught on. For one moment he had a panicked look on his face as I pulled myself closer to the sword, and the next he was grinning, as the chopper tilted back toward the front.
Once we rose far enough, a second giant scrambled into the chopper and I knew I was dead.
I swung my legs toward the wall, pushed off the roof, and pulled myself upward, bending at the waist and wrapping my legs around his arm.
He swung his free hand, pounding me on the back as I pulled the blade free of the scabbard. We flew forward as a third giant climbed in and we flipped back to the fore. He lost his hold and I fell after him, yanking on the sword for dear life. Once the blade was free of the scabbard, I twisted, slashing it out in a wide arc, catching the giant in the face, slicing through temple, eye, nose, mouth. The sword did not stop, just parted his skull like paper.
He fell onto the next giant, who had just found his footing, and I landed on top of them both. The third giant fell onto his knees, nearly falling out of the opening.
I landed on top of the first giant, who thrashed against the cockpit, his brain not recognizing that he was already dead. I rolled out of the chopper, landing on my knees, looking around for bad guys. The two remaining giants scrambled out after me.
The first went down as I whirled and brought the sword through his knee. He bellowed as he fell, nearly drowning out the sound of battle in the distance.
From above, the dragon screamed again, and we all looked up.
The black shadow filled the sky like a bruise for a moment, then dropped toward us like a plague. I steeled myself against the fear that threatened to swallow me. At the last minute, I dove. The dragon strafed us, claws out. The standing giant shrieked as the claws ripped through him, slamming him against the chopper, bits and pieces spraying the ground around me.
I scrambled to my feet and ran around the end of the battered machine. A battle line had been drawn at the barn, and the remaining SCAdians fought against a wall of trolls and several wounded but lethal giants.
The sword sang in my head. The runes along the blade glowed with energy, fueled by the blood of the enemy.
Here was power, here was strength. With this blade, I could bring down that dragon. If I lived long enough.
I wove in and out of fallen bodies, approaching the barn from the west. The SCAdians had built a berm around the barn with two horse trailers, several barrels, the rough-hewn feast tables, and the overturned limousine that had brought Qindra to this little soiree.
One of the giants lifted a dead horse with obvious effort and flung it over the wall. It was Titan, Brendan Lord’s trusty Belgian warhorse. He had been a steady and loving animal, bastards.
Cries rose from the defenders as the horse fell among the stretchers, scattering the wounded like pickup sticks.
I ran along the left flank and darted in among the enemy. They didn’t expect an attack from that quarter, focused as they were on the small wall. I managed to hamstring the first giant when the dragon roared over us belching a stream of fire.
Napalm blasted across the roof of the barn and rained down on friend and foe alike. More smoke billowed over the battle, and SCAdians began an orderly retreat toward the house. Many of the wounded struggled back under their own power, but too many had to be carried or dragged on their litters.
I slashed at the enemy as they fought to escape the flames as well. I don’t have a clue how many I touched, but more than one troll left the field with fewer appendages.
They were not stupid, just panicked. One troll slammed me aside with a shield I recognized from our crew. They’d scavenged from the fallen.
I ran to the line, calling out to the survivors.
Fifty-six
STUART MET ME AT ONE OF THE BREACHES, A BANDAGE AROUND one arm, and
the double-bladed axe in his hands. I noticed several notches. I’d be needing to make him a new axe.
“Katie ran past us,” he said, watching the enemy fall back. “Melanie has saved several who would’ve died otherwise.”
He didn’t look at me at all, I realized. His eyes were haunted.
“You okay, Stuart?” I asked, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Too many hurt,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “This is madness. We’re children, playing at games.”
A group of the support staff returned from the house, carrying stretchers out away from the burning barn.
“Guns next time,” I said with a smile. “Automatic weapons?”
He barked a laugh. “Not much use.” He rocked his head back toward the barn. “Deidre did well with that scatter gun of hers for the first few shots. Then it jammed.”
“Happened to me, too,” I said. “Picked up a .45 from one of the pilots. Only got off a single shot.”
“Too much magic,” he said, stepping forward a couple of paces as the smoke shifted. “Tom tried one of the rifles Jimmy keeps for hunting, and it never fired a single cartridge. Susan and Maggie both tried their service revolvers with the same results.”
I watched the smoke with him, looking for the enemy to return. “Sword and shield, then,” I said.
“Aye.” He thumped the flat of his axe against the huge boot of a fallen giant.
The dragon soared above us, watching. The few giants and trolls that remained alive were probably running for the last chopper.
“How’s Gunther?” I risked.
Stuart grunted. “Surly and mouthy,” he said with a smirk. “And pissed off to be rescued by a little girl.”
I laughed. “Sorry to interrupt his imminent murder.”
“You did well,” he said, glancing my way for a moment. “This has been one huge clusterfuck, but I think we may just beat the bastards.”
“Gonna lose the barn,” I said, glancing back. “That fire will burn until dawn.”
He shrugged. “Dawn ain’t that far off,” he said, yawning.
“You got this under control?” I asked, stretching my arms above my head.
