I tapped the side of my helmet. “We’re inside,” I said. “And I think I’ve spotted where the monster-izing is taking place. We’re going to take a closer look.”
“Remember,” Patel’s voice sounded quietly from inside my helmet. “You’re there for the captives. At all costs, avoid engaging the enemy.”
“But if we take out the one with the red cape,” I said quickly, “it could de-power the other stones, like on Pluto. And maybe even change the werewolves back to normal. Just let me try—”
“Do not engage the floating coats. Or the cape,” Patel said. “That’s a direct order.”
“Roger that,” I said, then tapped the side of my helmet to kill the comm.
“There’s no way I’m going between those,” Lopez said firmly, looking into the dark, narrow corridors made by the stacks of crates. “It’s a death trap.”
Rand’s mustache tilted to one side briefly. “True—there doesn’t appear to be much room to navigate. Or to retreat, if necessary. And if anything knocks into a single stack—”
“They’d all fall down,” Kovac said.
I held up my Power Glove and flexed my fingers. “Don’t worry—remember that protective bubble I made for us back on Pluto?”
“I recall it was incredibly frightening,” Rand said.
“Yeah,” Lopez added, “and this time, we’d be trapped under a kilometer-high pile of junk, just waiting for your sugar high power or whatever to run out.”
I looked around the room, but there were stacks from one end of the loading bay to the other. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
Then, squaring my shoulders I said, “Well, let’s just be careful not to touch anything.”
I ran toward the nearest walkway between packages, and after I’d gone about twenty meters between the two massive stacks, I saw that there was another walkway that intersected mine at a right angle. I glanced down both directions of this new walkway, but didn’t see anyone—or anything, for that matter. Looking ahead, I saw more intersections along the path. So there was room for movement in here, after all. That wasn’t necessarily good news, but it was definitely helpful.
Stopping at this first intersection, I looked back. Rand was directly behind me, followed closely by Lopez. Kovac, however, hadn’t yet made it. He was so broad that it was impossible for him to move normally through the packages and crates. Instead, he had to twist his torso about 45 degrees to the side so that his shoulders and arms didn’t brush the edges of the walkway and sort of waddle along. But now wasn’t the time to laugh. Now was the time to move.
The yellow light at the end of the long walkway grew brighter as we approached, and I heard a woman’s voice scream. I picked up my pace and continued toward the light, which was growing brighter and brighter. Then, there was a bright flash, followed by a long howl. It sounded like the vampires had just created another monster.
I didn’t want to risk being spotted by the vampires or whatever werewolves were bringing them fresh victims, so I stopped at the second-to-last intersection. The path to my left was long and disappeared into the darkness. There was no telling what might be at that end. The path to my right was shorter, and it opened up onto a set of solid double doors lit by a green exit sign directly above. I wasn’t sure how well were-hands could work door handles, but I didn’t imagine it was any easier than it was for standard human hands.
I turned to face my crew and waved them toward the doors. Rand and Lopez went first, and after a few moments, a sideways-facing Kovac finally shuffled to where I was standing. I patted him on the shoulder quietly, then nudged him to the right, toward the double doors. I waited at the intersection, straining to see if there were any active threats down any of these walkways.
I heard a high-pitched voice moaning from the same direction as the yellow light, so I stood still for a few long moments. When the light became brighter and the moan grew louder, I ducked into the walkway to my right and hurried after my crew.
They had all stopped at the last intersection before the walkway ended. Rand pointed to the set of shut doors at the end of the path, then to me. I nodded, squeezed past everyone to the front of our group, then gestured to my crew to follow. I looked both ways, but didn’t see anything. I drew my rod-sword, just in case, but didn’t activate it. I was just about to make a break for the double doors, when I heard a metal click to my left, and leapt back into the shadow of the stacks to conceal myself.
I peeked out from behind a section of cardboard boxes and saw a single door, about another dozen meters down from where I had been about to enter. I watched as the long handle turned and the door swung inward. A werewolf emerged, gripping an elderly man in a stained sweatshirt by his arm and pulled him toward the source of the light. The door shut quickly behind them on its own.
As soon as the two were out of sight, I tapped on the side of my helmet to raise Patel. “Captain,” I said, “We’ve found where the captives are being held. Stand by for my word to bring transports around back to where we came in—there could be a good-sized batch ready to roll in just a few minutes.”
“Standing by,” Patel answered. “And keep your helmet comm open from here on out,” she continued. “I want to hear everything.”
“Roger that,” I said.
I checked one more time to make sure the coast was clear and crept to the single door that had just shut. I flattened myself against the wall, and then motioned to my crew to follow me.
They hurried across the space between us and fell into a line behind me. I tested the handle—it was unlocked. I looked back over my shoulder and leaned away from the wall so Rand, Lopez, and Kovac could all see me. I extended my arm, held out three fingers, then made a fist. They nodded.
I stepped quickly to the other side of the door and my crew slid closer. I gripped my sword tightly in one hand and put my other hand on the door handle. I looked to my crew and mouthed my countdown, nodding my head at each number.
One.
In my mind, I quickly sounded the first bombastic note of a symphony.
Two.
My rod-sword flared to life, its yellow glow lighting the area outside of the door.
Three.
I twisted the handle, shoved the door open, and was met by a room full of glinting eyes.
There were no more captives.
There were only werewolves.
18
ANGRY SNARLS RIPPLED through the room and wicked teeth shone in the pale yellow light of my sword. There had to be at least twenty of the civilians-turned-werewolves inside. Way more than my team could possibly handle on our own.
“Holy mother of Schmendrick,” I whispered.
I grabbed the door handle and yanked it shut. There was a violent scratching noise against the door, which quickly multiplied. I held the handle firmly, but knew I couldn’t keep it up much longer.
“What the hell?” Lopez said, eyes wide.
“Quick!” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here. Head back the way we came—I’ll try holding them off.”
Kovac, Rand, and Lopez just stared.
“Go!” I yelled.
Lopez was the first to turn and run, with Rand and Kovac right behind her. I extinguished my sword and sheathed it behind me so I could grab the door handle with both hands. In spite of my efforts, the handle turned a little more. I was going to need to do something, and fast.
I summoned my purple stone’s brassy, heroic music as I held on for just another few seconds. Suddenly, I released the handle, threw back the door, and then tried imagining something—anything—to fight off these rabid monsters.
But nothing came.
My stomach sank as the first werewolf grabbed the door frame to launch himself out of the room. Almost by reflex, I raised my boot and, just as the wolf shot forward, I kicked him in the center of his massive chest.
He yelped and doubled over, momentarily blocking the doorway for the rest of the werewolves, who were all snarling behind him. So I spun around and
ran for my life.
As I sprinted for my life, I reached behind me and drew my sword, igniting it almost immediately. By the time I reached the narrow walkway we’d just come from, I could hear the sound of claws scrambling and then clicking on the bare concrete floor behind me.
“Walker—what the hell is going on?” Patel’s voice sounded in my helmet comm.
My sword provided just enough light for me to see Kovac beginning to turn a corner ahead of me and to the left. Because he was moving so quickly, he couldn’t quite keep his wide shoulders from grazing the side of the walkway. When he turned the corner, his right shoulder rammed into a large box and knocked it loose.
I looked up in horror and saw the tall stack of boxes on the corner begin to sway. The sounds of snarls and clacking claws grew louder behind me as I ran.
“Werewolves,” I said into my helmet comm. “Lots of them.”
I glanced up at the column of boxes, which teetered and then began to fall. I gritted my teeth and ran harder, reaching the intersection just as the first packages had begun to rain down heavily onto the walkway.
As I turned sharply, a large box bounced between the stacks, falling directly into my path. I swung my glowing sword upward and behind me as I ran, slicing through the box and creating a storm of packing foam. I heard a series of thuds and yelps behind me as the boxes continued to fall. I looked over my shoulder and, through the artificial foam haze, I saw several furry, muscular figures quickly scaling the uneven mound of downed boxes.
“What about the civilians?” Patel asked inside my helmet.
Ahead of me, I saw the backs of my crew farther up the long walkway and heading toward the open back end of the transport through which we’d entered the factory. I turned back around and now saw close to a dozen werewolves awkwardly picking their way through the wreckage of boxes, their mouths foaming as they scrambled toward me.
“The werewolves are the civilians!” I yelled.
I summoned the sound of heavy drums and an electric guitar as I ran, looking over my shoulder after every couple of steps. I quickly imagined two twirling golden lassos above my head.
Hippolyta help me.
In my mind, I flung them toward the lowest boxes just ahead of me, one on each side of the walkway. As I passed my imaginary lassos, I pictured myself yanking them tight and pulling the boxes toward me.
The two boxes I’d singled out immediately came free and sent all of the boxes stacked above them careening downward. They slammed onto the fastest of the werewolves who were chasing me and a series of painful howls followed. That was the good news.
The bad news was I’d been in such a panic that I hadn’t paid much attention to how much force I’d used to pull the boxes free. Before I had time to brace myself, the large boxes I’d lassoed tumbled over each other toward me, bounced, and then hit me in the back, sending me sprawling forward onto the cold concrete.
I looked up and saw my sword clatter to the ground and slide until it stopped against the left-hand wall of boxes. The sword’s light began fading as soon as it left my hand, but hadn’t died completely before it came into contact with the cardboard wall. The part of the box touching the sword blackened, and then a flame suddenly appeared.
“Uh oh . . .” I said out loud.
Patel’s response inside my helmet was almost immediate. “What do you mean, ‘uh oh’?”
I scrambled forward on my hands and knees and tried to blow out the fire, but with each breath, the flame grew larger and quickly spread to the adjacent boxes. Hearing the sound of growls and boxes being torn apart behind me, I grabbed my sword, leapt to my feet, and sprinted down the walkway.
Kovac was standing at the rear of the transport through which we’d entered, lit by a small light from somewhere at the front of the vehicle. His thick forearms flexed as he pulled the transport’s sliding door halfway down.
“Go, go, go!” I yelled, flailing one of my arms wildly, while the other fumbled to sheath my now-inert sword.
I saw his eyes go wide, but whether it was because of the werewolves or because of the rapidly spreading fire, I couldn’t say. The moment I ducked through the opening, Kovac quickly slammed the door behind me and flipped a lever that locked the door shut.
A tiny white light shone from the ceiling of the transport’s cabin, which I used to wind my way around the stacks of cargo that filled the back end. As I moved, I felt a rumbling. Were the werewolves shaking the transport? Or was the building already collapsing? In either case, we needed to get out immediately.
“Private Walker . . .” Patel said impatiently.
“I’ll—I’ll tell you later,” I answered.
When I finally reached the cabin, squeezed past Kovac, and saw Lopez in the driver’s seat with her hands on the steering wheel, I realized that the rumbling sensation I’d felt wasn’t from werewolves or from the building, but from the transport’s industrial engine. Lopez shoved down on the accelerator so hard that her foot pressed against the floor. A moment later, she twisted the steering wheel several times to the left, which sent me flying sideways onto the passenger’s seat.
I threw my arms out behind me to brace myself and found myself gripping something thick and hairy.
“Gah!” I yelled as I recoiled, spun around, and raised my Power Glove, palm-first, to blast the monster out of the passenger door.
Only, it wasn’t a werewolf. It was Rand’s thick head of hair. His hands flew up to shield his face, which, honestly, wouldn’t have done much to stop the power blast I was about to send tearing through the side of the vehicle.
“I would prefer that you didn’t,” Rand said as he squinted his eyes shut.
I exhaled loudly, dropped my shoulders, and reached out to quickly smooth his tussled hair. It was awkward. “God, I’m glad it was you,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
As I pulled my hand back, I glanced up at the rear-view mirror sticking out from the passenger’s side door and my stomach sank. A thick, furry cloud of werewolves was tearing down the street after us.
Lopez twisted the steering wheel hard to the left once more, and this time, I was able to brace myself against the passenger door frame, instead of my teammate’s puffy hair. Lopez soon straightened our course. But when I looked out the front window, all I could see was a solid line of Peacekeeper soldiers with a variety of plasma weapons aimed straight at us.
“Captain, tell your soldiers not to fire—it’s us!” I yelled.
One soldier fired a warning shot a few meters in front of our vehicle.
Patel responded hesitantly. “In . . . the factory transport?”
“Yes,” I said desperately. “But we’ve got company hot on our tail!”
A muffled curse came in response, then Patel said, “Keep driving—the soldiers will let you through.”
I turned to Lopez. “Keep going!”
Lopez’s hands were white-knuckled as she clutched the steering wheel.
“How far?” She asked.
I looked farther down the street and saw the back end of a small, sleek Peacekeeper transport a couple of blocks ahead of us.
“There,” I said, pointing. “Take us to the mobile command center.”
Lopez flipped a switch to her left, lowered her head, and pushed down harder on the accelerator pedal. Our vehicle lurched, then sped even faster forward. The soldiers leapt out of the way and yelled at us as we passed. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of discharging plasma weapons and muffled screams.
We raced down the street and rapidly approached the small Peacekeeper transport that had brought Winnifred, still parked halfway into the intersection ahead.
“Hey, Lopez—slow down,” Kovac said from behind me in his now signature four-word drawl.
But Lopez just gripped the steering wheel more tightly. A moment later, we crashed into the stationary vehicle, sending the small transport spinning and bringing us to a grinding stop.
“Wow—you’ve got issues,” I said as I peeled myself off of th
e front console.
Rand and I piled out of the passenger door and were met by Captain Patel, who had three heavily armed soldiers close behind her.
“We’re going to the front line,” Patel said, already jogging toward the faint sound of plasma blasts and screams behind us. “Stay here and hold the command center until further notice.”
“Wait—we can help,” I yelled after her, but she just kept running.
I looked up at the wrecked factory transport and saw Lopez, still gripping the steering wheel and leaning forward, resting her head on her hands. Kovac was next to her, a meaty hand on her shoulder. I didn’t know what had gotten into her.
I turned back around and saw Rand standing beside the large cage that held Panthra. She kept twisting her large, green-furred head back toward the noise of battle and scratched furiously at the front of the cage. Rand was crouched beside the container, examining its locking mechanism.
He turned to me and said, “I’m afraid I’ll require my equipment to liberate our friend here.”
“One duffel bag, coming right up,” I said.
I ran a few paces to the mobile command transport, bounded up the stairs, and flung the door open. There, seated at the table, was Winnifred, her head held high. She was still in her light blue hospital clothing, but her restraints were now fastened to the table in front of her by a thick metal cord.
“Finally,” she said with the hint of a grin. “Someone worthy of my time.”
I felt a lopsided grin spread across my face and I reached up to scratch the back of my head. “Um . . . hi.”
The sound of plasma fire grew louder and her pale face quickly became somber.
“There is still a chance we can defeat them,” she said. “But if you do not release me this instant, we will all most certainly die.”
19
“WHAT DO YOU mean, ‘we will all most certainly die?’” I asked the captive woman. Despite the fact that she was dressed in a set of sloppy hospital clothing and was chained to a table, she had an air of absolute confidence about her.
Crimson Strike Page 11
