Crimson Strike

by Peter Bostrom

  In spite of the fact that the biodome’s light panels were only just now beginning to dim, the streets were empty. But as we drove past the apartment buildings, I could see the outlines of faces in the dirty windows. I was a little disappointed that there weren’t tons of people outside, breaking the lockdown order, but for Stanton’s sake, it was probably for the best.

  We turned back onto the street where the mob had stopped our convoy earlier. We drove slowly—actually more slowly—down the street, but nobody came out to meet us. Had the Peacekeepers’ bravado earlier driven them away? Were they really going to give up so easily?

  Just then, something pinged against Panthra’s cage. She snapped her head to the side and snarled at the noise. This was followed by a hollow banging sound on the right side of our transport. I slammed on the brakes and our transport lurched to a stop, rattling loudly as the engine idled.

  “There,” Winnifred said, pointing to a second-story window.

  A tall concrete building stood to our right, plain and pale. A few of the windows were open, but with no interior lights on, it was impossible to see inside.

  More banging sounds came from the other side of the transport, and as I looked ahead of me, I saw shiny metal cans of all sizes hurtling through the air, ricocheting off of Panthra’s cage and knocking against the other transport.

  I opened my door to jump out, and as I did, something struck the door so hard that I could practically hear the metal dent. The good news was, this wasn’t my personal vehicle. The bad news was, it could have easily been me who got dented.

  Panthra had started to slam against the side of her small cage, which, in turn, rocked the transport it was attached to. I couldn’t stand seeing her suffer like that, so I hopped out through the door and landed on the street, dents be damned.

  I raised my left hand and summoned the purple stone’s heroic, brassy music. I imagined a large bubble rising from the ground in front of me, swallowing the cage. An instant later, a faintly-glowing violet dome shielded it, sending several metal cans bouncing off in different directions.

  Panthra was still snarling inside the cage, but at least now she wasn’t going wild and trying to break through its bars.

  I held the image of the bubble in my mind for another few moments, and as I did, something curious happened—the projectiles stopped. I dropped the shield to conserve my energy for something larger than a can, and took a few steps away from my transport and out into the open.

  I held my hands up and yelled, “We come in peace!”

  “No you don’t!” Someone yelled from inside one of the buildings. “You say you’re Peacekeepers, but what you really do is force your kind of ‘peace’ down our throats!”

  I turned toward the voice and faced a run-down housing project, which was next to a smallish park with bushy, synthetic trees. I heard a rustling sound from behind a nearby waste disposal container and spun to face it, my right hand reaching reflexively behind me for the handle of my rod-sword.

  The man with gray coveralls and wild hair we’d encountered earlier stepped forward. “What are you going to do, test me to death?”

  Several chuckles sounded from the darkening shadows along the street and a dozen or so people stepped forward, too. They each held some wicked-looking, random item in their hand—a broken length of plasteel, a wrench, a metal curtain rod.

  I lowered my hand slowly and met the hardened eyes of the civilians who now stood exposed near the street.

  I found the man in gray coveralls and said, “Your name is Harry, right?”

  He clenched his jaw. “It’s Harold, Peacekeeper.”

  I nodded. “Right—Harold. I’m not here to hurt anyone, Harold,” I said firmly, “but I will protect myself and my team. So be very careful what your people do next.”

  The civilians fidgeted with their homemade weapons, unsure of what to do. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have better things to do than harass factory workers?” Harold said.

  I heard the creaky sounds of transport doors opening, and I was soon joined by my teammates—Lopez, Rand, and Stanton. For some reason, Winnifred stayed inside. Maybe she didn’t trust these people. I know I had my own reservations, and by the way Stanton kept his hand near his plasm gun holster, he did, too.

  “We’re here,” I said, looking around at the civilians who had come out into the open, “to form a militia.”

  Scoffs and murmurs rippled around me.

  “What, are you so afraid to put your own people in harm’s way that now you’re recruiting canon fodder?” Harold said with a strained laugh.

  Stanton raised his voice. “You’ll be pleased to know that we have lost many, many soldiers in our fight against the Dominion.” Then, a little more softly, he said, “and several dozen only last night.”

  “With all due respect,” said a balding man with a gravely voice, “we’ve lost a lot more than that since the government shut down the hospital just up the road.”

  “He’s right,” said Harold. “The UFS never cared about us before. Why should we care about helping them?”

  Rand looked over at me and raised his chin. I nodded, and he stepped forward.

  “Sir, I ask you to hear me out. I respect your disdain for the present governmental system—I sincerely do.”

  He nodded firmly as he looked at each of the civilians, who were standing nervously in front of us. “However, this is an opportunity to regain a constitutional privilege that you’ve lost.”

  “But the Peacekeepers are still part of the system,” the pale, fair-haired woman replied.

  “Yes, I understand that. But you can appropriate the system for a good and noble cause. And if we can do something to stop these monsters from taking over your city, then the factory leaders and city representatives can’t possibly ignore your plight anymore. Their long-standing apathy will become an embarrassment.”

  “Maybe,” Harold said. “But then again, maybe not. They might be afraid they’ll lose their sense of security. Once they see how strong we are, what’s to keep them from trying to keep our power in check? From withholding even more from us?”

  Shouts of approval came from the other civilians, who raised their makeshift weapons high into the air.

  Stanton stood there, tight-lipped, and then turned to face me. “You know you’re wasting your time on them,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I hate to say it, but this time, I think you might be right.”

  I took one last look at the group of civilians, in their grease-stained, faded clothing and hungry eyes. They were desperate, but not desperate enough to set aside their resentment for the Peacekeepers and the system that brought them to this place. And I was desperate to help them, to channel their anger and sense of pride into something meaningful. But I couldn’t do anything for them if they weren’t willing to work with me.

  By the time I turned around, Stanton was already getting back into his transport. Lopez and Rand weren’t far behind. On my way past Panthra’s cage, I stuck my hand through the bars and patted her side. “Sorry, girl,” I said as I looked into her dark, sad eyes. “I want to go fight just as badly as you do. But if you and I leave now, there’s no way the Peacekeepers will give me another chance.”

  Panthra whined softly, and I said, “Yeah, I’m not happy about it, either. But the Peacekeepers are the best bet our worlds have against the Dominion. I guess we’ll just have to go back to HQ and wait there for a while.”

  I had only taken a step or two away from the cage when I heard a long, high-pitched howl from somewhere in the distance. Panthra immediately started growling and scratching at her cage. I looked behind us, but all I saw was an empty street.

  The next instant, the air was alive with screams, and I spun around and strained to see what was happening. Just beyond the crowd of civilians, a dark, furry blur was charging toward them.

  27

  AS THE LONG-limbed beast with dark, greasy fur ran toward the civilians, they turned and ran in the opp
osite direction, toward me. I, on the other hand, started sprinting toward the toothy monster. The civilians had been impossibly stubborn, but I wasn’t about to stand by as they were torn limb from limb. I’d seen far too many people die in the last forty-eight hours.

  I sounded some fast-paced electric guitar and drum music inside my head and created an image of a giant shepherd’s sword—staff? . . . crook—at least, how they’d looked on the old animated vids I used to watch as a kid. In my mind, I hooked the round part of the staff around the fleeing civilians and pulled them toward me. Each of them instinctively leaned backward against the invisible force pulling at them, but they all ran a little faster with the added help and soon passed me.

  Stanton and Lopez began firing at the creature, but he was moving so quickly and erratically that they couldn’t get off a good shot. Now he was only a dozen meters or so from the panicked civilians and was getting closer by the moment.

  As I sprinted toward the bounding werewolf, I racked my brain for an image to use. I pictured a giant silver goblet with sharp edges and two thin, arching serpentine bodies with their heads forming the goblet’s handles. As strains of heroic music sounded in my mind, I leapt forward and flipped the goblet over so that a faintly shimmering six-sided shape trapped the wolf and me together on the same section of potholed road.

  Without breaking his stride, the werewolf changed directions and lunged at me. I quickly dove out of the way, landing hard on the concrete road. The werewolf slammed even harder into the faintly glowing barrier, which flared brightly at the point of impact. At the same time, I felt a sharp dip in my energy level.

  By the time I had gotten back to my feet, the werewolf was charging once more toward the screaming civilians. A moment later, he slammed against the barrier, which grew brighter momentarily and, once again, I felt my strength fade a bit.

  I needed to do something to get this monster’s attention. Given how much of my energy I was burning by maintaining the upside-down goblet barrier, I knew it would be risky to ignite my rod-sword. But at this point, I didn’t really have another option.

  So I unsheathed my sword in one smooth, quick motion and brought it to life. The intense burst of yellow light made me squint and the werewolf growl as he turned his muzzle away from the sword’s blinding glow. As the light dimmed, the wolf snarled, baring a row of pointy fangs and spitting white flecks of saliva.

  I swung my sword in a circle, hoping this would send the wolf cowering.

  “Walker, what the hell are you doing?” Lopez yelled from outside the barrier.

  “Oh, you know,” I said loudly. “Just looking like a badass.”

  But instead of sending the wolf away cowering, he shot a sideways look at a nearby metal bench that was trapped with us, leapt over to it, and tore a long strip of metal from its seat with a long, ear-splitting screech. The monster stood across the makeshift arena from me, a good half a meter taller and now wielding a long, thick strip of metal with jagged edges.

  The scene reminded me of another old vid I’d seen, where a lady with huge white hair and a chain mail dress made people fight to the death to resolve their problems. What had the people chanted? “Two men enter, one man leaves . . .” But what happened when one of the two wasn’t a man at all, but a bloodthirsty beast from another world?

  All of a sudden, the werewolf ran toward me on his hind feet, swinging wildly with his makeshift sword. I held my own sword more closely, fending off the ferocious blows as best I could. He kept edging closer and closer as I felt myself getting weaker and weaker from trying to keep the wolf contained.

  “Come on, man!” A voice came from outside the barrier. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harold stepping closer. At this, several other civilians drew close, too.

  “You can defeat him!” This time, it was a melodic voice. My eyes darted to the side and I saw Winnifred standing there, her fair face framed by her raven hair.

  With renewed confidence, I slashed my sword horizontally to the right, hoping to surprise the beast with my offensive move. But all it did was throw me off balance and lost me what little defensive position I had. Seizing the opportunity, the werewolf swung hard with the piece of metal, nailing me in the hip.

  Luckily, he’d hit me with the flat end of the metal bench strip, but that didn’t stop the pain from exploding along my side. I let out a sharp cry and pulled my sword back in front of me. But the werewolf was back to swinging wildly, and with each powerful blow I felt my grip on my sword slipping more and more.

  Finally, the werewolf hit my sword so hard that it went spinning out of my hand and skidded across the concrete, its glow fading as it went. The werewolf immediately kicked me with a powerful hind leg and sent me sprawling backward. The monster’s dark eyes narrowed and I thought I saw a his saliva-flecked lips curl as he leapt at me.

  I fumbled in my cargo pocket for something—anything to help me. The werewolf landed on top of me with a crunch, followed by a faint sizzling sound. Then, stillness.

  The civilians gasped as the barrier fell and the werewolf and I lay motionless on the ground. Murmurs spread through the crowd and Winnifred cried out.

  After a few tense moments, I wheezed, “A little help?”

  I was totally drained of energy. Several civilians rushed over and rolled the werewolf off of me, a thin silver knife sticking straight out of his chest. Harold reached a hand down toward me. I grabbed it and rose weakly to my feet with a grunt.

  The crowd stood around me, staring in disbelief. Stanton’s mouth was permanently stuck hanging open. Lopez stared blankly and Rand smiled widely. Winnifred rushed forward, wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed me tightly, twisting me to the side.

  “Ow!” I gasped. “I think that bastard bruised my hip.” I looked down at the werewolf, then up at the circle of civilians who were gathered around me now.

  “Okay,” I said to the crowd. “Now who’s with me?”

  28

  THERE WAS SILENCE as the crowd looked at the dead werewolf, then at each other. One by one, the civilians looked down at their feet or somewhere off to the side, away from me. I couldn’t believe it—I’d just risked my life to defend theirs, and now they wouldn’t even make eye contact with me?

  “Hey . . . guys?” A short woman in a surprisingly thick coat said nervously. “What’s happening to that . . . that thing?”

  All of our eyes zeroed in on the fallen werewolf. Steam or smoke or something else whispy began to rise from its fur, shrouding its body from our view. We all took a step back, the civilians raising their miscellaneous weapons and my teammates leveling their plasma guns. I was completely out of energy to use with my philosopher’s stones, so I’d be totally useless. I took another step back.

  As the smoke grew thicker, the sizzling grew louder and then quickly became a snapping noise. I thought I heard a few dull cracking and popping noises in there, too. In fact, it sounded a lot like an Old Earth commercial vid I’d seen—a noisy breakfast cereal for children that was inexplicably protected by three tiny elves.

  Anyway, as the noises died down, the smoke began to lift. And then, laying sprawled on the concrete in front of us, was a long, naked, and greasy-haired man with a knife in his chest.

  “Giesol?” A lumpy man toward the back of the crowd said.

  Stanton had his plasma gun pointed at the body and held it there, just in case there were any more surprise changes.

  “You knew him?” I asked the lumpy man.

  He looked at me and nodded. “We worked in the same section of the Kepler Cakes factory. He went missing a couple of days ago.”

  My stomach growled loudly. I loved Kepler Cakes. I was about to ask if they had any of the factory’s surplus, but it clearly wasn’t the time.

  Then, looking back down at the body, the lumpy man said, “He was quiet, but he worked hard. He’d always give me a smile when we passed each other between shifts.”

  The short woman who had first noticed the changes in the werewolf—in Gie
sol—stepped forward cautiously, took off her thick coat, and laid it gently over the body.

  I scanned the faces of the civilian crowd and saw looks of both pain and anger. Seeing someone they knew who had been so cruelly treated by the Dominion had clearly affected them deeply. That’s when I saw my angle.

  I took a long step forward, so now I was only about a meter away from the dead civilian.

  “Who else have you lost?” I asked.

  There was silence for several moments, then a long-nosed woman to my left said, “My cousin was killed a few days ago. Ripped in half, they said.” She paused a moment, then continued, “He made these little animals from used boxes and gave them to kids on their birthdays.”

  There was a short pause, then a man to my right, wearing a long-sleeved shirt that was about two sizes too large, said, “I-I think my n-neighbor might b-be a monster now, t-too. He w-went missing the night that p-pale freak showed up in the p-park.”

  He pointed with his chin to a small park just ahead of us, next to the largest housing project on the street. Harold was already staring at the park, and I saw a tear run down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

  “H-he always made me l-laugh,” the man continued. “Now he’s g-gone.”

  A thought struck me, like a battle axe to the head. I looked beside me to Winnifred. “Can these werewolves be changed back into their human form?”

  She wrinkled her brow, then nodded slowly. “It is possible. I have heard tales of lycanthrope punishments, where tribe members were stripped of their wolf form.”

  A murmur spread through the crowd. I took a half step toward Winnifred. “So, you’re saying there might be a chance?”

  She looked at me and tipped her head. I nodded in response and then turned to the gathered civilians. “Citizens of Kalliste,” I said in the most powerful voice I could muster on an empty stomach. “If you join our militia, I promise to do everything in my power to change your friends and get them back here with you, where they belong.”