Demon Driven

by John Conroe

  Three feet below me a mesh grate pulled warm stale air, soured with the scent of fear, from the gymnasium. I could feel hundreds of people, scores of young strong heartbeats pounding in terror. Most of the school’s eight hundred plus children were assembled in clusters and groups, sitting on the polished wood floors. Their teachers were spread among them, each wrestling with their own fear, while attempting to reassure their charges. Two heartbeats were slower than the rest, two forms moving slowly down the open lane between the kids. It only took two terrorists to control the hundreds of children and adults whose spirits had been swiftly and expertly broken by terror.

  My reaction surprised me. I had expected to feel anger, well more anger, but not quite like this. It was the demon blood-tainted fighter in me that I had worried about. Maybe it would find the children’s fear attractive. But it didn’t. It was angry, an arctic anger so cold it burned.

  The fighter-berserker part of me brought up the mental image I had begun to think of as my sonar heads-up display, a three-D image of the building and inhabitants below. The cold ball of rage seared my chest, the fighter part moved into control and I began to move.

  Chapter 26

  “No explanation will matter after we begin. Unlock the dark destroyer that’s buried within. My true vocation and now my unfortunate friend, you will discover a war you’re unable to win.” – Disturbed.

  I stepped forward and dropped down the three feet to the grate below, my feet smashing through and my body Pulling directly toward the two terrorist below. It wasn’t a straight drop as they were not cooperating, instead standing fifteen feet away from the spot directly below the ventilator. The grate was twenty-eight point four feet above the floor of the gym. Pythagoras said that they were therefore thirty-three and a third feet from me on the hypotenuse of the triangle. Good old public school education.

  I covered that distance in less than the blink of an eye, moving much, much faster than gravity could account for. The Dark Energy of the V-squared was moving me faster than I had ever gone before, yet I seemed to perceive myself as moving normally. Everything else was glacially slow, but I was normal. Kids and teachers were crowded on the gym floor, some sobbing, some glaring, all terrified, and none yet noticing my presence.

  My booted feet met the left-hand terrorist, his soft body providing little help in cushioning my impact. In fact, he crunched and squished rather nicely, while I flexed my legs to absorb the landing. His partner hadn’t really begun to register my arrival when my backhand caught him on the right side of his face. Part of me noted that his head exploded from his body, exactly like a fifty caliber sniper rifle round would do. But the rest of me was already in motion, sprinting to the doorway, each foot automatically Clinging and releasing to provide the traction necessary to move that fast. As I breezed through the doorway, two things happened simultaneously. The first was that a third killer was just approaching the entry, as I came through it, the heel of my palm impacting his chest, collapsing his ribs and sternum against and through his backbone, crushing his heart and lungs into paste. Second, as his body launched backward, smashing into a row of lockers, I heard the metal grate from the ventilator clatter to the floor of the gym behind me.

  Turning to the left, I saw two more terrorists coming through the archway that separated this hall from another. They were just beginning to perceive a problem, gun arms moving ever so slowly. I ran down the hall, extending both arms out to my sides in classic clothesline position. Passing between them, I heard their spines snap as my outstretched arms slammed into them, lifting them from their feet and carrying them with me. I raced through the archway, but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum stayed behind, each smashing into the concrete block wall on either side of the arch with satisfying crunches. My dark side was enjoying this and a chuckle broke my lips.

  Two more hallways brought me to the front of the school, and I continued to send pulses of aura out around me, each tailored to render C-4 inert.

  The map in my head showed the front entrance just around the next right hand turn, the school’s administrative offices guarding the entryway. My heads-up display filtered the sounds from ahead. Three more terrorists and several adults, possibly one child. Not slowing at all, I spun around the corner and slammed the first rifle toting asshole into the solid wall behind him. My visual perceptions caught up with my audio ones as I palmed his face and shoved hard enough to embed him in the wall.

  The obvious leader was standing in front of another terrorist, this one holding a palm corder, which was hooked to a laptop. The leader was clutching a device of some type firmly in his right hand, while his left waved a pistol around, which I idly noted was a Beretta 92, probably nine millimeter. Off to his left side stood three figures, one large and sturdy with a beard, one female and slightly overweight and one child-sized but actually an adult female of middle years.

  The big bearded guy was familiar to me: Roy Velasquez, one of two assistant principals for IS 341. The younger woman would probably be the other A.P., because I knew the tiny woman was Principal Schmidt. Roy had mentioned her several times, always with a great deal of respect. About the same size as many of the sixth-graders she oversaw, Dr. Jeane Schmidt was a thirty-year veteran of the City’s public school system. She was highly intelligent], fierce and much beloved by pupils, teachers and parents. It was easy to see why, as she was faced-off from the black-eyed leader, her body rigid with anger. That’s all I had time to perceive as I continued to sweep into the entry foyer where this drama had been unfolding. I jabbed a left fist into the ribcage of the camera holder, sending him flying to the sound of ribs snapping. My fight brain declared him down for the count, and I concentrated on the last standing terrorist, the leader. By now, I had decided that the object in his hand was either a dead-man switch or a remote detonator or both. Grabbing his hand to keep tension on the device, I yanked, intending to strip it from his grip. Instead, his right arm ripped free from the socket. Oh well, I wasn’t overly concerned about his personal well being. I was concerned when his remaining hand convulsed and his pistol went off. Something swatted my right thigh, but I concentrated on crushing his gun and throwing him backward through the big window that separated the office from the school’s foyer.

  Turning to the doorway, which was loaded with explosives, I sent another big aura burst in its direction.

  Only then did I glance down at my leg, which had a small hole in the front and a larger hole ninety degrees on the side. Blood was seeping out, but I could already feel the wound clotting and closing.

  The bullet must have entered straight in and bounced off my very dense thigh bone, exiting to my right. I glanced up to follow the bullets path to find Dr. Schmidt slumped in Roy’s arms, a wet glistening spot of red widening across her stomach.

  Chapter 27

  Motion around me resumed normal speed, Roy and his counterpart both jumping slightly at my rather sudden appearance. I was still holding the leader’s remote device, complete with attached hand and arm. I wasn’t at all certain that I had disarmed all of the explosives in the building, so I needed to handle the bomb remote first. I stripped it out of the hand, being careful to keep a steady pressure on it, but then noticed it only had an arming switch (which was on) and a red button. I presumed bad things would happen if the button got pressed, so I turned to the female AP. Dark brown hair, almost black eyes and East Indian features.

  “Here, hold this carefully and don’t let anything press on that button!” I said.

  She nodded, her eyes a little wild and her hands shaking as she took the remote from me like it was a live grenade, which, actually, it kinda was.

  Somewhere, in the last few seconds, my goggles had gotten knocked askew, so I pushed them up and out of the way while I looked Dr. Schmidt over. My own wound was just starting to make its presence known, but the bleeding had stopped and I could feel the muscle tissue knitting itself together. It itched.

  Dr. Schmidt didn’t have the assistance of the V-squared virus t
o help her, so it was up to me. I glanced first at Roy, who after his first flinch at my appearance had only widened his eyes slightly. I didn’t doubt he recognized my eyes and voice. I also had a feeling he might know a bit about my abilities, being married to Gina and all. The slight figure of his boss rested firmly in his arms and I moved my gaze to her face. She regarded me calmly, her eyes bright, her skin very pale. Meanwhile the white of her blouse was fast being overtaken by the widening pool of red.

  I had spent my aura lavishly to make the explosives inert, and the reserve I had left was scant. Nonetheless, I reached deep inside and gathered all that I could, then pushed it through my right hand and into Dr. Schmidt’s abdomen, closing my eyes and commanding her body to respond.

  For the space of a double handful of her rapid heartbeats nothing happened. But ever so slowly, I felt a response. The bleeding slowed, blood clotted and bacteria released from her digestive tract died. It wasn’t a lot, but I hoped it would save her long enough for the professionals to get to her.

  “You, what’s your name?” I asked the assistant principal.

  “Sssonja,” she said with a shaky voice.

  “Well, Sonja, I need you to stay with Dr. Schmidt. I’m gonna just pop those front doors open and then Roy and I are going to get the kids in the gym moving out of here. You need to make sure the EMTs get to your boss as soon as they come in. Okay?”

  She looked at me, her brown skin going pale, till I thought she might faint. Then she shook herself, blinked a few times and finally, nodded.

  “Roy, let Sonja hold Dr. Schmidt. Her bleeding has stopped and help is just outside this door,” I said, not mentioning that the help had lots of guns pointed in our direction.

  * * *

  The double doors to the school had been wrapped in heavy steel linked chain, the ends welded together. There was no sign of the welder lying around and I didn’t want to waste time looking for it, so I blocked the others view with my body. Then I formed just enough of a mono edge on my right hand to slice through the links. It was about all I could do, as my aura was spent and my energy was flagging quickly.

  The police band radio that Takat had given me was still in my pants pocket, so I pulled it out and pressed the talk button.

  “Building is clear. EMT assistance required for one female, aged fifty-five, abdominal wound. Students will be egressing immediately.”

  I turned off the volume as the immediate request for identification came back, kicked open the front doors and then grabbed Roy by the arm(gently), leading him back to the gym.

  * * *

  The students and faculty were only too happy to leave and they quickly blocked the hall from wall-to-wall in a steady, but basically calm rush out of the school. The teachers were impressive. Virtually every one of them concentrated on getting their young charges out of the building, although more than a few shot anxious glances at my black garbed appearance.

  I stood in the back, blocking the bodies of the first two terrorists as best I could. Nothing to be done about the rest of them, but the kids were averting their eyes pretty much on their own.

  “Are you okay?” Roy asked, pointing at my leg.

  “Yeah, I’ll be just fine. You need to get your students out and Roy….It’ll go a lot smoother if you don’t mention that you have any idea who I am,” I said.

  He nodded after a moment, then stepped forward and grabbed my hand.

  “Thank you!” he said simply.

  “Not a problem. Glad I was handy,” I said.

  He pointed at my head, reminding me that my googles were still off my eyes and then turned, shepherding the last of his kids out the door.

  * * *

  I waited till he had gone around the corner, then moved under the heating duct. I needed to jump about thirty feet straight up to get my arms over the lip of the duct. Normally, that would be easy, but my right leg wasn’t a hundred percent, or even eighty percent. Nothing for it but to try.

  My first attempt got me about halfway, the landing sending searing pain through my thigh. The berserker was back in his cage and the sensation of pain had arrived as he left.

  I was still thinking about my dilemma, when a breeze swirled around me, and an image of myself leaping spastically toward the ceiling and failing popped in to my head, accompanied by an amused feeling.

  “Sure, very funny! Ha ha! Go ahead, laugh at the wounded guy!” I said in mock anger to the giant invisible form of my bear.

  His massive head butted my chest, about knocking me off my feet. He sniffed my leg, snorted loudly and sent another image. This one had me standing on invisible shoulders and being lifted toward the ceiling above. I found that one more to my liking.

  If someone had walked in and seen me hovering fourteen feet above the floor of the gym, no amount of bullshit slinging would have gotten me out of it. But no one showed, and with the added height of a standing Okawari, I made the jump to the top of the duct, my arms Clinging to keep from slipping back on the dust covered aluminum.

  The bag of gear came in handy now, the blue NYPD raid jacket covering my black form and lending me some credibility for being on scene. I secured the climbing rope to a handy tie down spot, then threw it over the rear wall of the school. Holding it in my hand, I pretended to fast-rope down the building to the street. Someone was bound to see me and this made it look like a normal SWAT type descent, rather than what it was, a freaky human-vampire hybrid running down a wall. Pulling off my face mask, I headed away from the building as quick as I could without running or looking suspicious. The mass of children in the front of the building were absorbing most of the attention, although a few law enforcement types glanced my way. I made it to the next street over before a squad car pulled in front of me and a pair of slim arms grabbed me and yanked me into the back seat. Lilac and jasmine scented air swirled around my head as a quiet voice said:

  “Drive!” and the car peeled away.

  Chapter 28

  A small part of me noticed that this time, Chet was driving. Most of my attention was centered on the very intense, very concerned blue eyes that were alternately examining my wound and flashing with anger.

  Tanya shook her head at the speed of my healing. It obviously wasn’t fast enough, as she nipped her right wrist with her razor sharp canines and pressed it to my mouth before I could blink. So that’s what fast looks like. I was so used to slow humans, slower weres and young vamps that I had forgotten how fast she was.

  Her small hit of blood had its usual effect, massively accelerating my healing systems. She pulled her wrist back and shook her head.

  “You are an idiot!”

  Not the loving declaration I was hoping for.

  “Look someone had to help those kids, and I am the only one who can diffuse explosives from fifty feet away!” I responded.

  “Christian Gordon, I didn’t wait my whole life for you just to have you blown up by terrorists!” her eyes blazed cerulean blue with anger. Then she softened a little. “But you’ve spent your whole life basically saving people, haven’t you?”

  “Everyone but the ones that counted,” I said, seeing my family’s faces in my mind’s eye.

  She nodded in understanding, her face so beautiful it almost hurt to look at.

  “What I really meant, Christian, was that you’ve just added fuel to the fire. The government will know it was you and this will just scare them all the more!” she said.

  “Scare them? I just solved a terrorist problem for them! Why would that scare them?” I asked, astonished.

  She shook her head slowly, then looked to the front seat.

  “Chester, would you explain? He doesn’t seem to being hearing what I’m saying.”

  I realized that I hadn’t heard anything from the normally loquacious Chester during the whole trip.

  His nervous eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror.

  “Ah, well, dude, I think Tatiana means that you, like, just wasted eight heavily armed dudes, who had a fortified, booby-tra
pped position, in like less than a minute! And they, the feds, don’t control you, you’re a wild card!” he said.

  It struck me that Chet was scared. He had only met Tanya twice, briefly, and she would probably have been somewhat…forceful…in requiring his assistance. But his eyes were watching me, more than her.

  “Thank you, Chester! Just what I wanted to say. And you must call me Tanya, no?” she instructed.

  He nodded and kept driving, with Tanya giving him turns and directions occasionally, while I thought about what she had said and Chet’s reactions.

  I had just killed eight soldiers in the terror war. Armed men, with training and preparation. And it had taken considerably less than a minute. My balaclava and gloves would have prevented direct identification, but I had left a little blood behind and God knows how much information CSI types could pull from a scene these days. And that scene would be locked down and examined with a microscope. The transmutation of the explosives would tell General Creek and his new buddies, Roma and Duclair, who the operator had been long before any test results came back.

  So, the government now had an individual running loose, with the abilities of a vampire (a fairly old one) plus this freaky purple aura power, and a companion who was essentially a minor god, one that could penetrate any security and destroy any target at will! I was screwed!

  I started to get panicky, my mind racing through all the possible ways they could come at me, all the assets they would throw in my direction.

  Tanya was watching my face and she could tell the direction of my thoughts as easily as she could feel my terror.

  It’s funny that seven months ago, I had faced imminent death without much concern, but now I had so much more to lose, most of which was sitting next to me. Before going too far down that path, I became aware of warmth on my chest. The Tear of God was suddenly noticeably warm to the touch.