Even now, with his power pushed back to half a second in the cloud, it felt like he was experiencing several lives at once. Sheriff was smart enough not to go too far past this; he knew his limits. He'd always lost to Annie at checkers before her mind started going. She’d always been so brilliant. Once she’d explained how the more moves she thought ahead, the more possibilities there were to keep track of.
Ricardo snarled, alerting Sheriff that something was about to change. He’d had a feeling that the man had been holding back too. Killers like Ricardo always started off patiently, to show that they were in control, even if only to themselves. It was all kabuki, overcompensation for whatever mental illness they had. Sheriff braced himself, assuming that something bad was about to happen.
He was right.
Ricardo's true nature unfolded as the man bared his teeth, moving forward. At the same time, the darkness around Sheriff seemed to get even darker, which hadn’t seemed possible, and the pressure on his ability grew. He didn’t realize how much his precognition had been suppressed before Ricardo finally managed to grab his spear. Sheriff hadn’t seen it coming. Now he could still “see” the other man while in his dark fog, but he’d been blinded from the future.
It was like Ricardo had gone beyond blinding the senses, and had begun jamming abilities as well.
Sheriff managed to lever his spear up to block the first knife strike, but the blade still grazed his arm. Ricardo moved in, his knife hand a blur, and it was all Sheriff could do to backpedal and keep his hide mostly intact. He snap-kicked out, but didn’t connect very well, and almost lost his foot for his trouble. Ricardo had reacted incredibly quickly, slashing downward.
Sheriff saw the writing on the wall. If he kept fighting for control of the spear, he was going to trip, or Ricardo was going to succeed in rushing him. Luckily for him, it wasn’t his only weapon.
He drew his belt knife, surging forward to slash Ricardo. The murderer reacted fast enough to avoid a debilitating cut, but still received a nasty laceration to the shoulder. If Sheriff could hear anything in the cloud, he might have caught the man’s scream that he could still somehow see.
Ricardo didn’t fall back after that, though, didn’t falter. Instead, he darted forward. Sheriff hastily tried to create room for himself, stabbing with the spear, but Ricardo knocked it to one side with his wounded arm, his knife hand stabbing like a piston.
Searching for killing blows, Ricardo’s speed seemed to actually increase over the endless second that Sheriff madly defended himself. He still got hit a few times, but nothing deep enough to put him out...yet. Sheriff took a wild chance, kicking out again--this time he connected. Knocked back, Ricardo wheeled his arms, keeping his balance. Sheriff’s follow-up stab seemed promising at first, but Ricardo managed to deflect it with his knife and hit the shaft with a savage open-palmed strike. The blow knocked the weapon right out of Sheriff's hands.
As the spear went sailing out of the fog somewhere, Sheriff wildly swung his belt knife, giving himself some space.
He crouched low, using his suppressed power to watch a madman watch him, all while being surrounded by inky darkness, like the far reaches of space. His supernatural vision began to dim, and Sheriff reviewed the facts. He was fighting a younger, meaner, faster man than himself, he didn’t know where the approaching ring was, and now he was down to a knife fight.
Knife fights were always bad. This situation, fighting for his life while not even on Earth anymore, all while using super powers, hadn’t exactly been part of his old training, either.
Sheriff reversed the knife in his grip, holding his open hand out before him. His change in stance made Ricardo tilt his head, studying him further. The moment stretched, and Sheriff took the respite to think.
He remembered Cole's promise should he fail. Cole had given his word, and that was enough for him. He was a good kid, Cole. Maybe one day he would find his footing the rest of the way, realize that it wasn’t power or responsibility that made a man a man--it was how he treated the people who depend on him. The boy really was on the right path, and just needed to stop doubting himself.
Sheriff hoped that Cole might still find a way to get everyone out, but right now all Sheriff could do was make a decision. His food-based energy had all been used up; now he was drawing on his life force. In the past minute alone, he had probably burned through a decade. He needed to do something now before his bones aged too stiff for the fight.
His power demanded more energy, and Sheriff had to keep feeding it. If he stopped pushing against the pressure on his mind, he might entirely lose sight against Ricardo. Without being able to see the future, he was already in a bad spot, but being blind would be a death sentence.
It was actually really obvious what he had to do; Sheriff just didn’t have the guts before. Now he didn’t have a choice, so with a thought, he finally fully submerged himself in his power, turning it up to a level he never had before. Something felt like it broke, like he’d thrown off a wet blanket, and he broke through Ricardo’s suppression.
His power was almost too much, burning every nerve in his body, practically blinding him.
Like all moments before when Sheriff had his life on the edge of a blade or a bullet, he thought of his wife, Annie. Even in the pitch darkness of the fog, her face was perfect in his mind's eye. The memory of her voice, her laugh, and easy smile was what kept his mind from being torn by living in both the past and the future.
He imagined this psychopath, Ricardo, putting slimy hands on his wife. That anger fueled Sheriff, pressing him to attack back rather than just dodge. He needed to end this. How could he let himself forget? Fighting wasn't a dance or a conversation. It was one man dropping another so he could keep breathing.
Realistically, there was no way Sheriff could kill Ricardo if he didn't put everything on the line, and his power was telling him the same thing. Alrighty then. Sheriff had already made his decision, after all. Now he just needed to follow through.
Sheriff felt light.
His only reason for living now was to put down a rabid dog. He was burning through his life energy at an alarming rate, but he didn’t care anymore. His power didn’t lie.
Ricardo must have felt the change, because he stalked forward, moving his knife like a serpent. He likely knew Sheriff could see him and thought he looked intimidating, but in that moment, Sheriff thought he looked small, like a street punk who’d found a gun in a glove box and developed delusions of grandeur.
There were a few ways to accomplish Sheriff’s goal, but none of them were pretty. This way was most direct. He went to meet Ricardo, swinging at his wrist. As he’d predicted, Ricardo tried to brush the hand aside, dart in, and stab. He put his entire weight behind it.
Sheriff’s hand came down, but instead of trying to block or dodge, he grabbed Ricardo’s wrist and pulled inward. As the blade plunged into his stomach and he felt like ice-cold water was suddenly poured down his spine, Sheriff saw Ricardo’s eyes widen in surprise.
“King me,” he whispered, fighting through the agony of being gutted. Then as Ricardo tried to pull his hand back, Sheriff counterattacked.
Ricardo must have punched him a few times, because Sheriff saw stars, but he managed to keep his grip on his enemy’s hand, and he was still stabbing. The knife he held icepick-style was hard for Ricardo to stop. After the first few strikes, it was too late anyway.
Sheriff smiled and could feel the blood leaking from his mouth. He took one step after another, crowding in on the murderer he was putting down like a rabid dog, stabbing over and over again.
Sometimes the only way to destroy a savage was to be even more savage than they were.
Finally, Ricardo lost enough blood that he stopped fighting back, or was gathering himself for one last effort. Sheriff didn’t care, he just took the opportunity to cut the man’s throat.
The black fog vanished in a sound like a scream of rage and terror. Sheriff collapsed on his side to the jungle floor. The dome wa
ll wasn’t very far away, and was coming to claim him. To one side, Ricardo’s face was lined like he’d aged thirty years. He lay in a massive pool of his own blood, somehow still breathing, his eyes full of hatred and...fear?
Sheriff's vision began to blur, and he saw Cole and Holly finish running toward him. Holly's face was impenetrable, cold. Cole had unshed tears in his eyes.
To one side, Ricardo’s body suddenly gave what Sheriff thought was one last gasp of the black fog...until it was sucked into his skin again and filled all the man’s wounds. The bleeding stopped.
Shit, though Sheriff. He pushed on his power, focusing on only two possible timelines, and understood what he had to do.
His time was over anyway. There was no way he was going to survive this, and he couldn’t be a distraction for the kids. He'd done his part, now it was their time to put it all on the line. As Ricardo lurched to his feet, Sheriff looked a question to the horrified Cole.
Cole’s face was filled with grief, terror, and rage. But despite that tangle of emotion, the young man managed to clench his jaw and give Sheriff a nod. That gesture was all Sheriff needed to let go of any worry.
With one hand he found his crucifix, because he was about to go home. He decided that on the way there, if that Dolos angel, or god showed up again, he was going to punch that guy in the face. Sheriff’s other hand grabbed the handle of Ricardo's knife and pulled it out.
Stars.
He distantly heard yelling, but didn’t feel any fear, only peace. It was a little selfish to hope that Annie would join him soon, but he knew she would feel the same way in his position. In some ways, they'd always been greedy, drunk on each other. They’d been together for decades, and she hadn’t been herself for a while.
It would be fun to get his ass kicked in checkers again by the love of his life.
That was a silly thought, but an honest one. Sheriff felt like he was drifting now, and he could see a light. He was at peace with his choices, and he’d done the best he could do. That’s all he’d ever asked of anyone else, or of himself. He had no regrets.
Sheriff died with a smile on his lips and peace in his damaged heart.
Chapter 13
Cole’s knees went weak at the sight of Sheriff's dead body. Not only was their best fighter gone, but the honorable old man had sacrificed his life for nothing. Ricardo had gotten to his feet and stood swaying like someone drunk. The many wounds in his body had been filled with shadow, and now that darkness was climbing over the undamaged portions as well.
How were they going to stop a monster like that?
Cole briefly thought about attacking the thing with his machete, but realized he didn’t know enough about whatever Ricardo had become to risk getting any closer. If the wounds Sheriff had inflicted hadn’t been enough, Cold doubted he could do much better.
Ricardo floated more than walked over Sheriff's corpse, the burning dome wall following only a dozen feet behind him. The former Costa Rican tour guide cracked his neck before slowly moving again, directly toward Cole.
The murderer no longer looked like the reedy thirty-something-year-old. All the meat on his body had been consumed to keep him alive, or fuel his transformation. The fact that he was now walking black fog except for his head wasn't what frightened Cole most, though. Now Ricardo didn't even seem to care about burning his life away in exchange for his power, or maybe he didn’t have to anymore. This was terrifying.
Cole hadn’t realized he’d been backing up until Holly tugged his sleeve. "We gotta run," she said, voice taut. Behind the unnatural creature that used to be Ricardo, Sheriff's body was swallowed by the dome. The orange wall was so thick now, Cole couldn't even see the body combust.
His girlfriend. Holly. That’s right, there were others, too. Cole remembered his promise to Sheriff, and the group’s plan to get Isla to the portal. If anyone deserved to live, it was a little girl who had no business in this mess.
Cole followed Holly up the slight slope. He realized that the lingering extra sense he’d half thought he’d imagined earlier had vanished along with Sheriff. He’d noticed it before while fighting Mohammad, the boars, Javier. He’d thought he felt it again while coming to check on Sheriff. But even without it, he knew Ricardo was right behind them, a cloud of darkness and evil.
He was so used to being stressed out and terrified by now, he was able to think while he ran. He’d had a suspicion about his potential power before, but now it was a full-blown theory. If he was right, he did actually have a power, and he was beginning to understand how it worked.
His feet pounded in a steady rhythm, and Holly kept pace. This easy jog had been how they’d run over the last year whenever they’d had time to work out together. Now that their physical capabilities had improved on the island, it felt a little too slow, but Cole thought it was smart not to push it too much. Holly obviously agreed.
Cole spared an occasional glance over his shoulder, noting that Ricardo was still falling further behind, but also seemed to be gliding faster. That was...worrying. He’d been hoping that the orange ring would overtake whatever the killer had become. Of course nothing fortunate like that would happen, though.
Cole realized that he was feeling sorry for himself, so he balled up those emotions and threw them away. Right now survival was more important than fairness--he had promises to keep. Using his brain was as important as staying ahead of the ring right now.
He considered running faster; he and Holly could do it. They’d been in good shape even before coming to the island. The problem was there was no guarantee the portal would appear until the hour was over. Ricardo kept speeding up, though, and was gaining on them now. There was no reason to think that the monster wouldn’t also know where the portal would be, and would head there too, even if they somehow lost him. Cole suddenly remembered Sheriff's words. Sometimes, when there wasn't another way, the only way out was through.
Without warning, he slowed his pace, letting Ricardo get closer. The burning dome wall was only a few yards behind them--they’d all barely been outrunning it. Cole screamed, "Come on, you son of a bitch!"
The machete in his hand felt useless. Sheriff hadn’t been able to take this thing down despite doing terrible damage to it. Throughout his whole life, Cole had relied on his ability to find other, more creative ways to do things. Only now did he realize how naive he'd been.
Sheriff hadn't ever questioned Dolos' rules, but Cole had. Maybe he was stubborn, an idiot, or just had a rebellious streak. Most likely it was all three. But hope by itself without action was useless. He’d been forced to take responsibility, and take action, sometimes without much of a plan...like now.
Ricardo smiled viciously, and his fog arms stretched out like springs, extending twenty feet in a second. One of them held Sheriff’s knife, still stained with blood. Cole had no time to think and barely dodged the blade. As it passed, it sliced his cheek deeply, nearly to the bone. He counterattacked with the machete, but wasn’t entirely surprised when it barely bit at all, bouncing off of the fog like it was made of solid rubber.
Cole sped up, realizing that maybe trying to fight in front of a moving, orange wall of burning death hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done. He sprinted forward, but Ricardo followed, and Cole turned in time to dodge another attack. After ducking, he hurtled underneath Ricardo's outstretched limbs, trying to close the distance.
But two more nightmarish arms erupted out of Ricardo's chest, and the madman laughed, shouting something in Spanish. Cole noticed the same arm that held the bowie knife bending back toward him like a tentacle. He desperately rolled to the side, jumping to his feet and sprinting again to create distance.
While he escaped, the knife slashed his arm. He cried out in pain but kept his pace. Holly had slowed down too but was still ahead of him. Cole touched his cheek, noting the blood there had already dried. He met eyes with Holly, and her eyes widened as she focused on his cheek, not in concern but fascination. She yelled, "You're a healer?"
>
Cole grunted, avoiding two more fog arms reaching for him. He touched Holly's arm and felt his stomach tighten as his ability soaked up energy and focus. The gash on his arm immediately stopped bleeding. "I can only heal when you're around!” he yelled. “My ability is to copy other people's abilities if they are near me. Touch makes it stronger!"
The two pounded through the jungle, gaining speed without needing to talk about it first. Holly was somehow able to grin despite their danger, her dimples brightening her face. For a brief moment, Cole forgot about her change in behavior since the island turned into a death trap. He continued, "You go on ahead. I'll use his abilities against him. Protect the others, okay?"
His girlfriend had a hesitant expression, and Cole could only guess why. Then she nodded sideways at the chasing Ricardo, who was a healthy distance away now. At the moment, without shooting shadow limbs, he kind of looked like a man wearing black, full-body sweats. Holly shook her head and said, "We gotta take care of that guy here and now. Together."
Cole didn't argue; she was right. The problem was that he wasn’t truly confident they could even kill the man-turned-monster. Ricardo had done something far beyond Cole's understanding of what the power seeds could do. All of their powers must have more potential than he’d thought.
He put his machete under his belt, out of the way, and they slowed their pace to let Ricardo get closer. The killer snarled and spread his arms wide while running. Suddenly, the area all around them burst into darkness. Just like last time, it wasn’t only his sense of sight that he lost--all of them were taken from him, including taste and balance. Even his breathing was labored. Without Sheriff's foresight ability to draw from, Cole was at a loss.
His leg got stabbed, and he almost fell. In response, he burned a tiny bit of his life, squeezing out enough energy to instantly heal the leg wound. Holly held his hand, and he could feel her assisting him. Through their touch, he could sense she had taken some damage, too. Ricardo must be bleeding them, enjoying himself. He hadn’t tried for a mortal wound yet.
Cole Blooded Page 12
