“The blood is red,” I say. “Is there anything in this time that could do this…” I point to the remains of a man splashed against the side of the power station wall. “And that?”
He thinks for a moment. “Appalachiosaurus. Related to the T-Rex. Twenty-five feet from snout to tail. Has longer forelimbs, though. Not so…” He does an imitation of a short limbed T-Rex. “Would make short work of any of us. Maybe even the Nephilim.”
With that in mind, I say, “Let’s do our best to avoid contact.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me.” Langdon’s voice is loud. Way too loud. A drone descends from the sky. “Your betrayal is not completely unexpected.”
“My loyalty is to Black Creek,” I tell him. “You’re going to get all these people killed.”
“If that were my intention, they would already be dead. Of course, if that’s what it will take to succeed in my mission, I will gladly sacrifice you all, starting with those still in captivity here.”
The drone does a slow circle, the camera zeroing in on each of us. Inola takes aim, but I push the Winchester muzzle down and shake my head. As loud as Langdon is being, he’s nowhere near as loud as a gunshot. So far, nothing has reacted to his voice, so we might be in the clear.
I motion for the others to follow and strike out again, trying to act like I’m indifferent to the drone’s presence.
“I see,” Langdon says. “Having absconded with the people for whom you care—thanks to my less than trustworthy help—the rest of my prisoners are expendable? You’re turning out to be quite the antihero.”
The building’s doorway is held open by the remains of a guard, the lower half of his body missing. Why would a predator do this? I wonder. I have no doubt an Appalachiosaurus would eat a person, but why would it eat only half a person? Why would it scatter the other people around? Was the attack territorial? Perhaps blind rage because of the strange building and people suddenly in its territory?
“It’s looking for you,” Langdon says, gaining my full attention. “It has been stalking the mountain, killing everything it comes across. It’s quite impressive, really. Sadly, I believe it has discovered your precious Black Creek. How many people are there? How many survived?” The drone’s camera shifts back and forth. “I don’t see your family with you. You didn’t leave them there, did you?”
I tense, looking back toward Black Creek. How long would it take to reach them?
“Oh, don’t worry,” Langdon says. “I’m no monster.”
“You’ll defend them?” I ask, wondering if Langdon might actually send his drone army to defend Black Creek in return for me not pulling the plug. It would be a tempting offer, but it would leave us hurtling through time.
He laughs. “No. Why would I…” I can picture him shaking his head at me, and I really want to twist it off his shoulders. “This one drone is all the resources I will commit to the effort, and I have no intention of battling the creature. I will leave that…to you.”
Three flares launch skyward, bright in the sun’s fading light. Our position has been revealed to anything within a few miles, including Tsul’Kalu.
“There,” Langdon says. “That did the trick.”
Knowing he’s got drones in the air all over the region, I have little doubt that one is tracking the god of the hunt from a distance, even now. If Langdon says the beast is coming for us, I have no reason to doubt him.
“Whatever you’re intending on doing, I suggest you hurry,” Langdon says.
I’m frozen for a moment. Is he simply taunting me—confident that we will fail, and that Tsul’Kalu will kill us—or is he simply not worried?
Are we too late?
He’s trying to get in my head, I decide. “Let’s go!” I run for the open door, leading with my weapon, ready to shoot anything that moves.
The drone paces me, staying just out of reach. “Run, run, run, as quick as you can…”
“Hey,” I hear Inola say behind me, and when I turn to look, I find Flores squatted down, his fingers cupped together. Inola leaps up, putting one foot in his hands before being launched upward. Inola sails toward the drone, hatchet in hand.
“Holy shit, she’s awesome,” Cassie manages to say in the time it takes for Inola to reach the drone.
The hatchet strikes hard and true, shattering one of the four propellers. Unable to compensate for the impact, the drone careens sideways and crashes into the concrete. I’m pretty sure it could lift off again, but Levi reaches it before it can, stomping on it with his boots until it’s a ruined mess.
“I really hate that guy,” Flores says.
Inola picks herself up off the ground, but freezes halfway up, eyes locked on the dark forest.
“Is he here?” I ask, scanning the shadows. Out in the open like this, Tsul’Kalu would make short work of us. Our only hope is to either be gone when he arrives, or out of reach inside a building built to withstand forces stronger than him.
Inola snaps out of her rigid readiness. “No.” she says. “Something else.”
“Something else?” Cassie asks.
“A face,” Inola says. “White, like you.” She points at Levi and me. “But not…not like us.”
“Not human,” I guess.
She nods. “Not people.”
“What color was Appalachiosaurus?” I ask Levi.
The kid shakes his head. “Not even King Solomon, with all of his wisdom, could’a told you what color dinosaurs were.”
Remembering the white flesh at the fallen fence, I strike out for the entrance again, reaching it with no more interruptions. Aside from the man at the door, the interior is empty, and clean. The violence was relegated to the exterior, but I don’t detect any signs of occupation either. Could everyone have died outside? That seems odd. If there were people still alive here, wouldn’t Langdon send them for us? We could have been ambushed while he talked my ear off. Instead, he summoned Tsul’Kalu, who might very well inflict serious damage on the power station during his war against us.
Having a bad feeling about what we’re going to find, I rush through the facility, kicking open doors without fear of resistance.
“Shouldn’t we slow down?” Cassie asks. “This doesn’t seem safe.”
“No one’s here,” I say.
“What makes you say that?” Flores asks as we round the one and only flight of stairs. I kick open the door ahead and step into a large control room lined with consoles. It doesn’t take more than a glace to confirm what I feared. The station is shut down, no longer sending power to Synergy. Whatever resources Langdon needed to finish what he’s started, he’s already got it.
We’ve been on a wild goose chase this whole time, out of his hair and keeping Tsul’Kalu, the only thing he really saw as a threat to his plans, fully occupied.
“We’ve been played,” Flores says, looking at the information displayed on the screen. “It’s still collecting power, storing it in batteries on site, but the relay to the main facility has been shut down.”
“If there are batteries here…” Cassie says, and she doesn’t need to finish the thought.
“Shee-it,” Levi says.
A sharp hiss from Inola silences us. She stands still near the door, ear turned up. She stalks out of the room, Winchester at the ready. We follow her down the hall toward a second-floor window looking out at the forest. She crouches down, motioning for us to do the same.
“I don’t see anything,” Levi says.
“He’s here,” she insists, eyes laser focused.
“How can you tell?” Levi asks.
Four panicked horses bolt from the forest, charging over the fallen fence and trapping themselves inside the facility. I’m about to note that one of the horses is missing, when I see it approaching…in the sky.
44
“So…” Levi says. “It can throw horses?”
The horse bucks and twists as it pinwheels through the air. Tsul’Kalu is big, but it’s hard to imagine he wields the stren
gth to catapult a horse. Unless it really is some kind of demi-god, demon-spawn whose power is unnatural. In the past, writing such things off—including the Bible, in which such creatures exist—would have been simple. But I’ve not only seen the monster with my own eyes, I’m actually in the past.
Anything seems possible. Demi-gods, demons, even God himself, who I imagine is either really pissed off at Langdon for screwing with the natural order of things He created, or is having a good laugh at our expense.
“Back!” Flores says, diving away from the windows.
The horse slams into and through the glass, exploding shards into the room. The beast lies still, dead from the impact, its neck bent at a sharp angle.
A deep sing-song voice follows the horse. “Tsisdu…”
Rabbit.
Tsul’Kalu is definitely here for us.
For me.
Ducked down, hidden from anything out in the forest, Levi says, “So, have y’all tried, I don’t know, compelling it with the power of Christ or something?”
Inola’s face screws up, not understanding the movie reference. It’s possible she’s familiar with the Bible, but certainly not The Exorcist.
“Half demon,” I say. “Not possessed by one. And if a few dozen shotgun shells didn’t put it down, I’m not sure what good shouting at it will do.”
“Then what’s the plan?” Levi asks.
It’s a great question to which I have no answer. The power station is shut down and abandoned. Whatever we could have stopped by cutting the power, it’s too late for that. Langdon has what he needs to get when he’s going. He let us come this far because it kept the giant—and us—out of his hair.
“Stealth. Avoidance. Retreat.” Flores looks uncomfortable with the rudimentary plan he’s just offered. He’s not the type to back down from a fight, but he has no illusions about who will win.
On the surface, it makes sense. If Tsul’Kalu can’t find us, he can’t kill us. But I suspect he’s skilled enough to track us down. Even if we split up, he’ll hunt us one by one.
“How did he die?” I ask Inola. “Was he killed?”
She nods. “But I do not know how. It was before my time, and those who bore witness were found dismembered by his tribe.”
“There’s a whole tribe of these things?” Cassie asks.
“Far in the west,” Inola says.
“But it can be killed?” I ask.
“Maybe if we put enough rounds in it, we’ll get lucky,” Flores says, and it’s as good a plan as any. But I’m still not convinced it’s the right play. We also need to protect the remaining horses. Without them, we’ll be walking back and getting nowhere fast.
“How fast is he?” I ask Inola.
“Faster than you,” she says.
“Faster than a horse?”
No one likes the sound of that.
“You think we can fight it on the run?” Flores asks.
“Not we,” I say.
“Uh-uh,” Cassie says. “No way.”
“Just long enough to buy you all enough time to reach Black Creek first.”
Levi’s eyes widen. “You’re planning an ambush!”
Flores nods his approval. “Could work. There’s enough firepower in town to turn that thing into paste. But what makes you think we can reach the horses? Could be that thing chased them in here to flush us out.”
Cassie nods. “It hasn’t attacked yet.”
“Tsul’Kalu is a patient hunter,” Inola says. “If we leave, then we die.”
“We need a distraction,” I say.
“You want one of us to run around out there so the others can escape?” Levi is aghast, despite me saying no such thing. “I think that’s—”
“I’ll do it,” Flores says.
“You’ll die,” Inola and Levi say in unison.
“I know what I’m doing,” he argues. “Won’t be hard to—”
“Guys,” I say, “we’re in the Cretaceous. With dinosaurs. Something killed the people here. Something tore down that fence. And she—” I motion to Inola, “—saw something out there, watching, that wasn’t the giant.”
“So…what?” Levi says. “You’re like a dinosaur whisperer now?”
“Pretty sure there is one thing predators in any time will respond to,” I say.
“Wounded prey,” Inola says.
“So, step one, we summon a dinosaur. Step two, we reach the horses while the hunter dukes it out with said dinosaur. Step three, we ride like hell to Black Creek.” Cassie looks frazzled, but she’s wearing her ‘let’s do this’ face.
“Almost,” I say. “You four ride ahead.”
“Right,” Cassie says, expression souring. “The ambush. And if that doesn’t work?”
“Get to Synergy. Stop Langdon.”
“Love how you make that sound simple,” she says.
“It is simple,” I say, “Just not easy.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Tsisdu…” the giant sings again, much louder now. Much closer. At twelve-feet-plus tall, it can nearly look up into the window. I wave everyone to move deeper into the building. We slide along the floor, staying low and quiet.
Outside, the monster chuckles. It can hear us. Probably smell us, too.
“So,” Levi says. “How do we simulate wounded prey?”
“Scream,” Cassie says. “Real loud.”
“Now might be a good time to start.” Levi’s face has gone pale. He’s looking past the dead horse, out the window filled with orange light and thick fingers.
Tsul’Kalu’s face slides up into view, his eyes burning with savage delight, his teeth bared in a menacing smile. His dark red hair is covered by the saber-toothed cat’s head, its skin hanging behind him as a cloak. When he starts laughing, I scream, not entirely out of fear, but my emotions lend an air of realism to the sound. The others join in, wailing as loud as they can. It’s a horrible sound, and in any time it sounds like a dying wail.
Of all the possible responses to our screaming, the giant’s is the least expected. Instead of trying to crawl through the window, or mocking us, or attempting to throw something at us, it joins in, screaming into the sky. He’s so loud that the sound of his agonized voice drowns out our own, and silences us. When he finishes, his voice echoing into the distance, no doubt heard by the people in Black Creek, he turns back to look at us, smiling.
His grin fades when he notices that I’m the only one left, and I have a rifle pointed at his face.
I pull the trigger, firing off a single round when I’m expecting to unleash a full auto barrage. I forgot that the weapon I’m using is semi-auto, with a bump stock, which operates different from conventional arms. The result is that instead of turning the giant’s head into pulp, I put a single round into its cheek.
Before I can adjust how I’m handling the weapon, Tsul’Kalu drops out of sight. Shit.
I bolt for the window, taking aim as the giant rounds the building’s corner. I put three rapid-fire bullets in his calf before he disappears. Despite spattering the concrete with purple gore, the only sound from Tsul’Kalu is one of pleasure. It’s almost orgasmic, and really disturbing.
Leaping down a flight of stairs, I reach the ground floor in seconds, and run for the building’s far side. At the window, I raise my weapon, expecting to fire into the giant’s back. But I don’t see anything, or anyone, until a massive hand shatters through the glass, grasps my clothing, and yanks me outside.
I’m tossed to the ground, rolling to a stop in an open courtyard. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Off to the building’s side I catch sight of Flores, horse reins in hand. He pauses, looking ready to offer assistance. I give my head a slow shake, and push myself up.
He knows the deal. The mission comes first. Right now, Tsul’Kalu is a stumbling block preventing him from completing the mission that future me tasked him with—stop Langdon, even at the cost of my life. Twice.
The giant turns his head toward the sound of fading horse
hooves, but he just chuckles. He is supremely confident in his ability to catch the others, which means I need to delay him for as long as possible.
The question is: how?
I scan the wounds I’ve already inflicted on the thing and find them…missing. Purple blood stains his face and calf, but there are no bullet holes. He heals fast. Stupid fast. That’s how he survived Kuzneski’s shotgun barrage. So how do I stop something that heals?
Go for the kill shot, I think. With people, that’s center mass or a headshot. I’m not confident center mass will do it. I’m not even sure a clean headshot will do it. But putting a bullet in this creature’s brain should slow it down.
I face the giant, letting him stare me down. The longer this takes, the better the odds are for the others.
Tsul’Kalu says something in a language I don’t understand, but the tone is clear enough. He’s taunting me.
“You’re pretty fucking ugly, yourself,” I say, garnering a look of confusion from the creature. He doesn’t understand me, either. But he reads my tone just as easily.
He stands up straight, relaxing as he points at me, and then at himself. Not at his body, but at his clothing. The skins of humans and animals hang from his waist in sheets. The saber-toothed skin blows in the wind rolling out from Adel as the sun sets. Tsul’Kalu has been busy collecting trophies, and he’s letting me know that I’m about to be next.
I unleash a stream of bullets, tracing them up from his gut and towards his face.
Again, the monster seems to enjoy the pain, but as the first round punches through his neck, he steps to the side.
He’s protecting his head…
He dropped away from the window when I shot him in the face, too.
That’s the key, I realize. Head shot, it is.
As I eject the magazine and move to slap in my only spare, the giant charges, hands outstretched. That’s also the same moment something big roars behind me, the sound mixing with breaking branches and the heavy thump of a newcomer thundering into the ring.
45
I try to formulate a rapid-fire plan to save my ass, but all I can manage is to whisper a string of curses so foul I’ve never said them aloud before.
Flux Page 26
