by Mark Ayre
“You look rough,” said Mercury. “I’m no doctor, but I think bedrest is in order. Lots of it. If you want, I can write you a note for Heidi.”
Being new to Earth, Betty had seen too few movies. Rather than engaging in pre-fight jibes as initiated by Mercury, she launched for her enemy, once more swinging the fire extinguisher.
Injury robbed much of Betty’s speed. Mercury ducked, stepped back, and avoided this third blow.
Even injured Betty was still faster than any human. Having again missed Mercury, she pivoted into a fourth swing and brought the fire extinguisher with phenomenal force into Mercury’s stomach. As Mercury doubled over, Betty yanked the extinguisher away and came again.
Mercury dodged the fifth and sixth swipes as she had the second and third. The seventh collided with her skull, spun her 180 and initiated an explosion of dizziness. The eighth blow met her spine, sent her sprawling. Rolling onto her back, on the floor, she dodged the ninth blow, took the tenth to the shoulder, dodged the eleventh, the twelfth, tried to rise. Unlucky thirteen hit her full in the face; her skull cracked the new tiles, blood exploded from her nose, filled her mouth. Blow fourteen greeted her stomach, forced her into a ball, retching on the floor.
“Easy.”
Betty’s voice gurgled, cracked. It was a far better fit for the monster than had been the voice with which she had greeted Mercury at the bungalow.
The world swam. Somewhere high above, an army of infected were minutes or perhaps as little as seconds from surrendering their lives to bring forth Heidi’s master. Despite the agony, the dizziness, the need to be sick, Mercury had no choice but to fight, to keep going. To surrender the battle was to surrender the war, and the world with it.
With one elbow, she pushed herself towards sitting. Betty reacted fast; the fire extinguisher came again.
Mercury raised her free hand. A scream of pain rushed from fingers to shoulder, but she knocked the fire extinguisher to one side.
With her other arm, she threw herself up.
Betty swung again. Mercury ducked. Lashed out.
As Mercury’s fist met the exposed skeletal skull, Betty gave a strangled cry. Regardless, she tried again to raise the fire extinguisher.
While once more punching Betty’s missing cheek, Mercury kicked her hand.
The fire extinguisher jumped free and fled across the smooth tiles.
A surge ran through Mercury. She launched for her adversary.
Betty stepped aside, dodging the blow. She feinted a kick. Mercury fell for the trick. Betty shot forward, bent to one side and smashed her elbow into Mercury’s face.
Mercury span. Managed to stay upright. Dived back as Betty came again. Stumbled. Steadied herself. Took a fist to the throat.
She dropped. Hit the ground, rolled.
Betty came. A foot to Mercury’s hip, pushing her onto her back.
Betty came again. Dropping to Mercury’s waist. One hand formed a vice around Mercury’s throat; the other smashed Mercury’s jaw.
With that punching hand, she reached behind her back, withdrew a knife.
Squeezing Mercury’s throat, she said, “Die.”
Turning the knife, she cracked Mercury’s face with the hilt.
“Die knowing you failed.”
She spun the knife, raised it, pointed the blade towards Mercury’s heart.
She forced a hideous smile.
And a bullet smashed through her remaining eye.
Twenty-Four
At some point, the chanting had taken over. An energy had rushed through Sam’s veins and taken control of her soul. From her mouth, the power had ripped her words as it dragged her useless body around the circle. When it was finished, it tossed her against the wall, discarded her like a losing lottery ticket.
The world faded, returned. When Sam found the strength to lift her head, she saw first the figures on the symbol. A man and a woman, standing close. Beauty and Titus, Sam at first assumed. Focus and clarity returned. She was right about Beauty, wrong about the man.
Liam, unbound, unafraid. He did not look happy, but she could sense the same power she had felt rushing through her veins pouring from his body. That power inspired fear. As ever when she was afraid, Sam searched for her brother, praying he remained close.
Before she found Benny, she spotted Titus. Like Sam, the power had cast the Beast from the circle into the wall. Before it disposed of Titus, this invisible force had destroyed him.
There was no blood. For some reason, that seemed worse. Almost every bone in Titus’ body must have broken. His legs were folded in half, having snapped at the knee. The force had pulverised his arms within their skin casing. His chest was hollow as if someone had smashed it with a hammer.
His head faced the wrong way; his neck had snapped so entirely the head might have tumbled down his chest and ripped away, had it not fallen backwards and found a wall against which to rest.
It took every ounce of restraint Sam possessed not to scream, not to vomit. So horrid was the vision of Titus, for several seconds Sam was transfixed, Benny forgotten. When she recalled her brother, she could not help but speculate in what state he might be. Was he a losing lottery ticket discarded, like Sam, or destroyed, like Titus?
It turned out, somewhere in between.
Beauty and Liam were talking. Sam ignored them, could not worry about what they might do to her. Turning, she found Benny against another wall. He lay on his back, his hand on his chest. His limbs were all in the correct positions. No force had pulverised his body.
But there was blood.
Turning her back to Beauty and Liam, Sam scrambled across the floor to her brother, almost sliding in his blood as she dropped beside him.
“Benny?”
While the ritual had cast Sam aside and crushed Titus as a wrecking ball might crush a building, it had taken a different route again with Benny. As though Freddy Kruger had got too close with his bladed glove, Benny’s T-shirt was in tatters. The invisible blades which must have attacked him had gouged his skin, carving three lines across his chest, down to his stomach.
The wounds were not so deep as to reveal Benny’s innards; deep enough that blood seeped continuously onto the unfinished floor. His hand lay across the middle cut but was doing little if anything to stop the bleeding. His eyes met hers. His lips moved, but could not speak. Though his skin had always been fair, it was now far paler than Sam had ever seen it.
“Stay there,” she said, as though he could move if he wanted. Rising, she turned in search of something with which she could stem the flow of blood, and came face to face with Liam.
“You’re a survivor,” he said. “I’d like you to join me.”
The man who stood before her looked identical to the Liam she had convinced to walk her home the previous evening. His voice had in no way changed. Something within had.
“You’re not Liam,” she said. “And I need to save my brother.”
Over Liam’s shoulder, Beauty snorted. It was clear from a glance she felt no remorse for what had happened to Titus or Benny. Worse, she wasn’t surprised. When she had claimed Liam was to become a God, Sam had questioned why Beauty would sooner kidnap someone than step onto the symbol to claim such a fantastic prize for herself. Caught in the implications of this, it had never occurred to Sam that it was just as strange that Beauty felt the need to threaten Sam with rape when she, Beauty, was available to join the trio of chanters.
“You’re a monster,” she told Beauty, too fearful for her brother to be afraid of her latest tormentor. To Liam, she said, “I don’t know what you are, and I don’t care.”
She brushed past Liam and rushed towards the spot where Titus had throttled her against the wall. On the ground, bunched by the door, was her dress. Though Titus had ripped it down the front, and though it was made from thin, porous material, it would be better than nothing at stemming the flow of her brother’s blood.
As Sam went, Beauty sidestepped, aiming to block Sam’s path and punish
her for the monster comment. She no longer had Titus as her muscle. Sam had no doubt Beauty could do plenty of damage without the brute by her side.
Before Beauty could reach Sam, Liam grabbed the attacker’s arm and yanked.
The pull had more force than it should have. Beauty was hurled to the ground and rolled onto the symbol. Face flushed with embarrassment and rage, she immediately rose. Her fists bunched and she looked not at the man who had thrown her but at Sam. She still wanted to attack.
“The most powerful of my kind is due to rise,” said Liam. His voice was calm and emanated control. “I have to be there. Samantha, I’d like your company, but I’m guessing you won’t leave your brother?”
“No chance.”
Liam turned to Benny, looked him over. For a horrible second, Sam thought Liam might launch at her brother. Despite his slight frame and human looks, Sam could not help but envision him dropping upon Benny as an enraged lion might pounce upon an injured gazelle that has for some time evaded the almighty predator.
Instead, Liam said, “If you get him to a hospital right away, he should live. Once I’ve fulfilled my duty, I’ll return.”
This seemed a strange thing to say. Sam wanted to tell Liam, or whoever this was, that she wished never to see him again. The words wouldn’t come, and Liam showed no desire to stick around and strike up a dialogue. Turning instead to Beauty, he invited her along for the ride.
Beauty seemed torn. Her eyes flashed to Sam. She was thinking, if she remained, she could kill the girl that had insulted her. She found that to be an enticing prospect. On the other hand, she had organised the ritual for a reason. Could she really let Liam go?
“I’m leaving,” said Liam. “Follow me now or never. Those are your options.”
Without a backwards glance, Liam departed.
Beauty hesitated, tilting her head, trying to decide if she should follow Liam or squash the ant in her path. Sam suspected the best way to get Beauty to walk away might be to meet her gaze, to make it clear she would not go quietly if Beauty decided to attack.
There was no time to waste.
Rather than try stare Beauty down, Sam turned and rushed to her brother. Draping her dress over his torso, covering the slashes in his skin, she tried to put even pressure on the wounds.
As she worked, Beauty crossed the room. It was not clear what route the monster had picked until she swung open the door. She was leaving Sam for another day. Before she did, she fired a parting shot.
“We’re several floors up. You’ve no phone, no wallet, and no clothes. You’ll have to carry your brother to the ground floor before you have any chance of getting him help. My guess? he’ll be dead before you get halfway.”
Laughing, Beauty left the room, slammed the door, and left Sam with a dead man and her brother, who might soon depart to the same place as Titus.
Twenty-Five
Before they hit the town limits, they could see the blotted black clouds gathering in the sky, descending over the city. They were minutes away. They might not have minutes left.
Amira jabbed the glove compartment. “Open it.”
Without question, Trey did. There was a gun, but he’d already known about that. Amira was pointing at something else; a small black pouch that had almost slipped from the compartment and dropped to Trey’s feet when he’d popped it open.
The pouch was zipped. Trey released this to reveal four small pills in a clear bag. The sight of them was enough to make his heart race, to bring sweat to his brow.
“If we lose, and Heidi catches you, she’ll probably kill you. You never know with her. I think in the past she’s threatened to turn you into one of the infected?”
They slipped through the streets. Occasionally, a tall, close building, would block the black clouds from view. The dust had stolen the sun from the sky. The darkness of the roads at this hour was a reminder of what they raced towards, even when they couldn’t see it.
“Once or twice,” said Trey. His fingers shook around the black pouch. It was like holding a bomb that might go off any minute. More than anything, he wanted to put it down.
“We lose, and she catches you,” Amira continued. “If it looks as though she won’t kill you—pop that between your teeth, and bite. It’ll be over in seconds, nothing Heidi can do.”
Trey glanced at Amira, then stared at the packet as he might stare at an enemy army, fast approaching his position.
“Take one,” said Amira. “Keep it close.”
He didn’t want to. He’d always struggled to resist Amira’s orders. With unsteady, sweaty fingers, he prised open the clear package within the black pouch and somehow managed to extract a pill without it slipping through his fingers to the dirty mat below. Once he had it, he didn’t know what to do.
As he stared, Amira snatched the black pouch and slid it in her pocket. After a few seconds, she looked back to Trey.
“Are you going to do something with that?”
“I don’t know where to keep it.”
Amira sighed. “Well, I’d advise not storing it in your mouth. Might a pocket work? Somewhere it won’t fall out.”
A confirmed coward, Trey knew he would never take the pill, regardless of the situation in which he found himself. Unconcerned with losing the little tab of death, storage was simple. With Amira’s eyes on him, he slid it into his shirt’s top pocket and nodded as though satisfied with this arrangement.
Overhead, the black clouds reappeared. They were a minute from their destination.
Amira said, “Don’t tell Mercury.”
Trey glanced across. “What?”
“About the pill. Don’t tell Mercury. I don’t want her knowing.”
“Why not?”
Amira seemed to consider whether to answer. Perhaps deciding he was more likely to keep her secret if he knew why she wanted it kept, she shrugged.
“There’s a chance we win today,” she said. “A chance we not only stop this master person rising but kill Heidi and stop her for good. If we do, we’ll need a drink, to celebrate, just the three of us. You’ll want a drink, right?”
“Of course,” said Trey. Though truth be told, he wasn’t sure.
“Good,” said Amira. “Then keep your mouth shut about the pills because if Mercury gets one, she’ll be dead by the end of the day, whether we win or not. Then, when you and I go for our celebration drinks, everyone will think we’re on a date, and that would be awful. So keep it shut.”
Trey nodded but did not speak. He considered what Amira was implying about Mercury. Not blind to the emotions of others, Trey had known Mercury was not only unhappy but afraid of what she might become. He had suspected she would be happy to die stopping Heidi. But to win and commit suicide… Trey didn’t want to consider it. Somehow, it was too easy to accept Amira’s supposition as correct.
Before he could say anything else, ask any questions, Amira pulled the car to a stop.
“We’re here,” she said. “Get out fast. Let’s go to war.”
Like a magic trick, the bullet hit Betty’s eye; disappeared. The force of the shot snapped back her head. As Betty released an inhuman screech, Mercury shoved her chest and sent the monster tumbling.
Mercury rose. Turned. Gun raised, Amira crossed the lobby, sites fixed on the rolling possessed. Trey was a step behind. He drew a knife and tossed it Mercury’s way. Taking a step back, she caught the blade and turned again.
The bullet must have entered Betty’s brain and possibly exited the back of her head. If nothing else, it had blinded her. Despite this, she stood and faced Mercury. That gruesome jaw revealed a demonic grin. Despite her grievous injuries, she still believed she could win this battle.
Amira twice more pulled the trigger. A bullet smashed Betty’s shoulder; the second hit her throat.
The monster stumbled. Mercury launched.
Betty raised defensive arms.
Mercury knocked them aside, punched the throat where the bullet had just pierced, and plunged the poisone
d blade into the demonic creature’s heart.
With a final, animal shriek, Betty dropped. She would not rise again.
At times like this, Mercury usually paused to consider the person who had housed the monster. Somewhere, the real Betty’s parents and friends mourned her loss. They might not even know she was dead. She might have been in love. Might have had children. Such considerations were paramount. They reminded Mercury of why she fought. Of why destroying Heidi was so important. Of the lives she could save.
Today, there was no time.
Gun still drawn, Amira brushed past Mercury to the stairwell door. Across her shoulder was a bag. Ripping it open, she withdrew a shotgun, chucking the chunky weapon Mercury’s way. Following this was a grenade. Mercury caught both and stuffed the latter in her pocket. The former she tried on for size. It sent shivers down her spine. Also, it felt good.
“You been holding out on me?” She asked.
While throwing Trey two grenades and another blade, Amira said, “SUV of those infected bastards attacked us. They had a boot full of heavy weaponry. Unfortunately, they’d bled on most of it. Here’s what remained.”
Amira had taken a fourth and final grenade from her stash and slipped it in her pocket. The bag she cast aside. After kicking open the door to the stairwell, she turned back to Mercury.
“Guess we’d better save the I’m sorrys and I love yous for later, huh? After we’ve saved the world?”
Mercury looked at her friend. There was no reason ever to forgive what Amira had done. But here they were, at the end. Mercury could hold a grudge with the best of them, but how could anyone cling to ill-feeling towards their closest and perhaps only friend in what would most likely prove to be the final minutes of both their lives?
“You saved my life just now,” said Mercury. “I’m still mad at you, though.”
“I bet you are.”
“But I love you anyway.”
“And I love you. And Trey’s alright, I suppose.”