“I’ll do it.” Elena’s finger tightened on the trigger. “God help me, I’ll do it.”
Damon sighed. “You’d have done it already. Too bad. Now I have to find some motivation for you.” His hand caught Charlie Foxtrot’s face, sinking claws under her jaw and into her cheek. He peeked around her head, dancing across the floor as Elena tried to get place her sights on him.
“Six little Injuns thought they were alive. One lost her pretty head—”
A mere twitch of his hand was all the effort required to tear Charlie Foxtrot’s face apart.
“And then there were five.” The tentacle relaxed, unceremoniously dumping her to the floor like a slab of meat. Half a jawbone was still in his hand. He squeezed his fist, blood dribbled between his fingers. His eyes glimmered, as if daring Elena to act.
She screamed, unloading her handgun. Tears blurred her vision, turning him into a distorted monstrosity. He laughed even as he staggered back, the bullets ricocheting off the hardened ridges of his newly-armored body. The tentacle whipped her direction, entangled her legs, and sent her sprawling across the floor. Charlie Foxtrot lay only inches away. The one good eye she had left stared sightlessly. Ribbons of flesh quivered around the cavity where nearly half her face was missing.
The talons on Damon’s feet tapped the floor as he approached with a rasping laugh. “I think it’s an improvement. She wasn’t exactly a beauty queen. You can do with some improvements, too.” He flipped Elena over with a vicious kick. His other foot stomped into her stomach. Something seemed to explode inside; a ripple of agony took both her breath and will to fight away. She gasped for air, but couldn’t find it. Damon was just a hazy, half-formed monster from a distant nightmare, his voice indecipherable, his giggling threats falling on deaf ears. The pain roared, making her unaware of anything else, even when Damon reached down and seized her by the throat.
She closed her eyes, waiting for death.
Gunshots snapped her from her cloud of agony. Damon was rocked to the side by the incoming barrage, snarling as he threw his arm up to shield his face. Blackwell knelt a few feet away, squeezing off measured shots.
Damon tumbled beside Nathan, who had recovered enough of his senses to pull a tactical knife from his boot. He stabbed deep into Damon’s arm where the tentacle joined the elbow, yanking the razor-sharp blade down. Inky fluid spurted over his hands.
Damon screamed, leaping up and into another volley of gunshots from Blackwell’s pistol. Elena scrambled to find her own firearm while Damon staggered, his tentacle arm nearly severed. He leaped toward Blackwell, who backed away, still firing. His Beretta finally clicked empty.
Nathan yelled, tackling Damon from behind. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs. Damon won the battle, slamming Nathan to the floor. Nathan struck with his knife, stabbing Damon deep in the neck. Damon shrieked in enraged pain, dripping black blood like a leaky faucet.
Elena’s hand fell on her pistol. She turned, aimed, and fired several rounds into Damon’s head. He fell on top of Nathan, convulsing.
Nathan scrambled to get away, his face twisted in revulsion. “Is he dead?”
Blackwell reloaded and fired a few more times. Damon’s body jerked in response, but didn’t move. They watched in morbid silence as his wounds quivered. Steaming liquid metal dribbled from the cavities. His body shuddered, his teeth clamped together with metallic clicks.
“What’s it going to take? It looks like his body is dissolving the bullets.” Blackwell patted his pockets. “I’m out of ammo, and he still doesn’t look dead enough.”
A hand reached out, jamming a grenade into Damon’s mouth. Charlie Foxtrot left a smear of blood across the floor from dragging herself over. Her entire body trembled from the effort. Shaky fingers looped around the pin. She managed to turn her mangled head. The words were barely understandable from her ruined mouth.
“Ged da hell outta here.” She snatched the pin out and released the lever.
“Go.” Blackwell snatched the sample container up and helped Nathan to his feet. “Go, go!”
Elena sobbed, turning with the others. All of them were in bad shape, shuffling along as fast as they could. The blast erupted behind them. A giant hand shoved Elena in the back, creating pain and weightlessness. Everything flickered in a battle of grainy flecks of light and dark.
Darkness won.
Chapter 24: Ignis Fatuus
Nathan coughed, wincing at the pain in his chest. Recollection flickered like an old television set. Grainy slivers of memory slowly coalesced. The Aberration. Fog, rain, and nightmares. Damon. An explosion… He groaned, trying to sit up.
His heart nearly exploded when hands seized him from behind, roughly pulling him to his feet. He flailed and whirled around, eyes wide and arms swinging.
Blackwell jumped back, arms raised. “Friendly here, Nate. Cool it.”
He looked worse for the wear, his face bruised and blood trickling from a cut in his scalp. “You have a gun on you?”
Nathan patted himself, still trying to shake the dizziness away. “No.”
“Damn it.” Blackwell’s eyes scanned the smoke-hazed surroundings. The sample case was firmly gripped in one hand. “I put all my bullets into Damon. Sure hope that blast was able to kill him, because we’re sitting ducks. I just heard from Guy. He found the nuke and will set the timer. We have to move. The sub isn’t far.”
“Elena.” Nathan dropped to where she lay prone on the sooty floor. Relief flooded when he saw her still breathing. Her jumpsuit was slightly tattered, but he didn’t spot any serious injuries. He gently shook her. “Come one, Ruiz. Gotta get up.”
She blinked, eyes disoriented. He helped her sit up and motioned to Blackwell. “Give me a hand.”
Blackwell gave Elena a considering look before finally leaning over to offer a hand. Looping her arm around his shoulders, he and Nate lifted her up. She gave a groggy shake of her head.
“Can…walk on my…own.”
“Sure you can.” Nathan looked over his shoulder as they limped along. The hallway behind them was shrouded, a dirty haze that anything could hide in. His skin prickled with the unclean sensation of invisible eyes peering from the murky fog. Tiny flecks hung in the air, hovering like newborn snowflakes.
He nodded to Blackwell. “I got her. Go ahead and open the door.”
Blackwell disentangled from Elena’s arm and dashed ahead. The flakes fell faster, as though the ceiling had been replaced by wintry clouds. Nathan grimaced when a wave of dizziness made the room blur for an instant. Feeling completely disoriented, he glanced up.
Something moved across the ceiling.
Elena sensed his discomfort, shifting her body weight to look at him. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer as he squinted upward. It was difficult to spot, as though perfectly camouflaged to blend with the white of the ceiling. But something moved, something with the uncomfortable appearance of a large, barely discernable insectoid body.
The door clicked shut in front of him, followed by the ominous sound of a bar sliding into place.
Nathan’s hand flew to the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. He slammed a fist against the reinforced window. “Open the door, Blackwell!”
Blackwell stared from the other side of the glass, glassy-eyed but calm. “I’m sorry, Nate. I’m sorry. But someone has to make it. We’re out of weapons. We can’t fight them anymore.”
“We can fight together, Blackwell. Damn it, you can’t do this to us!”
“I’m sorry.” Blackwell backed away from the door, clutching the sample case to his chest. “It’s not personal, Nathan. Just don’t have any other choice.”
“Open the door, Alex. You hear me?” Nathan pounded on the gleaming metal. “Don’t do this. Don’t do it, Alex!” He screamed in rage when Blackwell turned and ran down the hallway, rounding the corner and vanishing.
Elena’s voice was a shuddering whisper. “Nate.”
He took a deep breath, filled with dread when he
turned. A trio of ghostly figures flitted down from the ceiling, borne on paper-thin wings dappled with markings that looked like human eyes. The creatures were humanoid, covered in white down from head to foot. Oversized crimson eyes glimmered from their angular heads, and jagged fangs glinted from their cruel mouths.
One of them screamed.
The sound was of a woman in agony, so piercing and gut-wrenching that Nathan automatically recoiled. The other moth creatures followed suit, shrieking and fluttering their delicate wings. Powder was flung into the air, fine particles that coated the walls and floor, burning as Nathan inhaled. The hall distorted, kaleidoscopic patterns of red eyes and transparent wings danced across his vision. He heard Elena cry out, but couldn’t see her. The mothmen closed in, their screams ringing in his ears. He stumbled and fell, buried by cascading powder and velvety insect bodies.
∞Φ∞
“Nate?”
Elena’s stare was a mix of concern and amusement. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Kind of lost you there.”
He blinked, looking at their surroundings. Why did it seem confusing? He knew where he was. At the hotel in Miami. Alone in the hallway, with Elena.
She laughed at his confused expression. “Wow, this is way beyond zoned out. Did you hear what I said? Night cap? My room?” She raised a teasing eyebrow.
“But…you don’t have a room here.”
“Sure I do. You coming? Don’t make a girl ask twice.”
She took him by the hand and led the way. He felt dazed, walking along automatically. A moth fluttered in front of his face. He waved it aside as Elena swiped her key card across the door pad.
“God, I’m never this forward.” She giggled. “But it could be our last night, right?”
“Right…” He took a last look around the hallway before Elena pulled him in.
Her fingers brushed his face, wrapped around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She tasted just as he imagined she would. A surge of heat flushed across his skin. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to lose himself in her scent, her lingering kisses…
A moth landed on his brow, tickling his skin.
He pulled back, batting it away. Elena laughed at his antics.
“Forget about that. Concentrate on something more interesting.” She doffed her camouflaged jacket and shirt without ceremony, letting it drop to the floor. Bare to her sports bra, she placed her hands on her hips. He greedily took in her tanned skin and toned, curvy body. She reached out and seized him by the belt buckle.
“Let’s go, cowboy. We don’t have all night.”
The light from behind the blinds flashed with bright violet light, blushing the room in purple. Elena became a silhouette in the glare. There was something not right about her darkened figure, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The light dimmed, he blinked in the afterglow.
Elena gave him a quizzical gaze. “You all right, Nate?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No, it’s just—”
“Good. Because you’re starting to mess up the flow. Let’s make things better by getting rid of some of these clothes.” She tugged at his shirt.
“Just a second, okay?”
“Just a second?” Frown lines etched her face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He stared at her. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? This isn’t even like you.”
“How would you know what I’m like? You’re just shifting the blame because you can’t handle the pressure.”
“Where is this coming from, Elena?”
She leered, face twisted with scorn. “You can’t handle a real woman. You’re scared. Scared of what you can’t control. A weak little boy who can’t get it up when he’s supposed to.”
Anger scalded his face. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Make me shut up. You can’t can you? You’re worthless, you know that? Good for nothing. A disappointment. You always have been.”
He trembled, shocked to the core at the familiarity of the words. “Where did you h-hear that? How could you know what he s-s-said?”
Elena loomed over him, somehow growing taller. Or he shrunk in the wake of her words, he couldn’t tell. She slammed her hands into his chest, shoving him back.
“Oh, you thought your dead daddy was the only one you let down? You let everyone down, Nathan. You’re a born loser. You’re no man. You’re a scared, stuttering little boy, pissing in your pants at the thought of standing up for yourself. Admit it.” Moths fluttered around her, crawling in her hair and across her face. Her voice deepened, masculine and vehement. David’s voice.
“You keep taking me for granted, boy. Now I gotta teach you a lesson.”
Nathan yelled and leaped at her. They tumbled, slamming against the floor. Her face morphed, altering like soft putty until a new face formed. It was a man’s face. The face of his father, glaring with disgust and loathing. Moths spewed from his open mouth, fluttering past Nathan and whispering all the ugly things he’d heard so many times.
Nathan’s teeth gritted when he wrapped his hands around David’s throat. “You don’t think I know what’s going on? It’s the Aberration, trying to trick me again. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you as many times as I have to until you’re gone for good.”
Spittle bubbled from David’s lips. “Do your worst, boy.”
His face crumpled, wrenching bone and muscle until it morphed into another visage. Sid Damon wrapped his hands around Nathan’s wrists and sneered.
“Come on, Nathan. Let me see the beast. Show me…what you’re made of.”
Nathan’s hands squeezed tighter, fingers digging into Damon’s neck.
∞Φ∞
“Nate?”
Elena’s bewildered glance took in her surroundings. Smoldering wreckage encircled her, blackened with soot and coated in ash. Flames roared nearby, an inferno that forced her to back away from the blistering heat. Muffled groans and screams filled her ears from bodies trapped under tons of rubble. White powder fluttered down from a sky choked with billowing smoke.
“Nathan, where are you?”
She tripped and nearly lost her footing. A gasp exploded from her chest when she looked down. It was a corpse, mangled and smoldering. The face that stared at her was nearly unrecognizable. She backpedaled, unable to tear her eyes away from Nathan’s horribly disfigured body. Others were strewn across the rubble, people she knew. Blackwell, Hayes, Guy. Their bodies were charred and broken like cheap toys.
Elena stumbled across the debris, unable to shake the sense of dread that settled on her like invisible cobwebs. She knew. Even before she saw the tattered, staggering figure, she knew.
Her father turned around.
Despite being Mexican he looked like the terrorists the media touted on video and photographs: Dark, tangled hair and beard, thick brows nearly hiding dark eyes encircled by lines carved by age and stress. His shoulders were hunched; he gazed around as if in fear of being hunted. His shirt and suit were the same he wore at her mother’s funeral, now ruined by ash and flame.
A smile brightened his grimy face. “Mija! I knew you would come.” He held out his arms for an embrace.
She froze, trembling. “What…have you done?”
“Finally I have brought down those liars, Elena. The betrayers in the government who have hid the truth about your mother’s death.”
“You did this.” Elena nearly sobbed. The screams of the dying filled her ears, soot and smoke burned in her lungs. A single moth flew by her face, taking all the time in the world.
She brushed it away, staring at her father. Remembering the man of quick smiles, booming laughter, and gentle hands. The man who used to give her rides on his shoulders, who consoled her after her first heartbreak. That man wasn’t in front of her. She gazed into the face of a complete stranger.
He reached out to her. “Please, Elena. You have to understand. What they di
d…was worst than treason.” His glassy-eyed stare only made his words more insane. “They betrayed the land I loved, that I fought for, and then covered it up. It was only right that I strike at the very institution of their so-called justice system. I couldn’t let your mother die for nothing.”
“That’s just conspiracy talk. I told you to let it go. Why didn’t you listen? Do you know what you’ve done? They’ll kill you for this.”
“No, mija.” A deranged smile crossed his face. “I’ll cross the border and lose them. My family will take us in. They’ll understand.”
Tears slide down her cheeks. “Us? There is no us, dad. Not anymore. No one will take you in after this. I don’t want you near me. You hear me? Stay away from me!”
“No, Elena. You don’t mean that.” He staggered toward her, eyes pleading. She recoiled when his hands touched her.
“Get off of me.”
He seized her, strong fingers digging into her skin. Her heel struck an upturned stone and they tumbled backward. Her head rebounded off the broken ground, blurring her vision. Her father was a hazy, dark figure, leaning over her like a hateful shadow.
“You can’t be my daughter. You’ve been brainwashed, loyal to your military bosses. You’ve turned against me!” He threw back his shaggy head and howled in anguish. Violet lightning forked across the sky, barely visible through the curtain of smoke. One of his hands encircled her throat, pinning her down.
Panic overwhelmed her. Her father, no—this stranger was trying to kill her. Purple flashed across the sky again, painting the surrounding in a lavender haze that made everything seem counterfeit. It may as well have been a studio backlot with special effects being added in. It wasn’t real.
It wasn’t real.
Her hands flew to her pocket, searching for the last weapon she had left. The slim tactical pen slid into her open hand.
Her father glared down at her, eyes glinting with hatred. Moths fluttered around his head, alighting on his hair and crawling across his face. “You are not my blood. You are the enemy, just like the rest of them.” His other hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed, fingers digging into her neck.
Torment of Tantalus Page 20