Dawn kept a tight grip on Mr. Jay’s hand when he had gathered with the other drivers. The strange grownups and two forever teens had a wild look to them though they were worried too she could tell. She also liked the way they helped the forever kids and comforted the little ones who were getting too scared.
“What’s your plan?” Mr. Jay had asked one, a black woman named Dahlia. Whistles had told him she was in charge of the drivers.
“The battle’s concentrated in the west. More troops coming from the southwest so it’s going to chase us through the north gate.” She had looked around the crew. “The Creature just said to get the kids out.” Dahlia’s dark eyes flashed. “And she said to trust you.”
Mr. Jay had lowered his eyes and was lost for words for a minute. Dawn squeezed his hand until he looked over at her and smiled.
“North suits me fine,” he said and pulled Dawn forward. “This is Dawn.” She had looked up and nodded sheepishly. “She knows where we’re going. There’s a safe place in the north.” Then he turned from driver to driver lingering on their eyes. “Take the northern highway three hundred miles until you find an old town called Severance. Go forty miles west of it until you get to a lake. A big one—it’s new, so you won’t find it on a map. There’s an old camp on the road called Jelly Bean Park. Wait there.” He smiled at Dawn. “Someone will come for you. Don’t worry if it’s a giant.”
The drivers’ eyes went wide on that point, but they all nodded clearly storing those directions in their memories.
“Other than that,” Mr. Jay had said. “Get out of the City as fast as you can. Fight any resistance as hard as you can. And don’t stop for anything.” He looked up and around. “All this is going to burn.”
Dawn had followed Mr. Jay onto their bus. They found Liz and the Quinlan boys there, and Whistles sitting close to Conan in an open space at the rear of the vehicle. The bench seats were packed with forever kids: three or four across if their sizes permitted it. It was a struggle to get to Conan and the others.
Mr. Jay knelt beside the Nightcare fighter as the bus pulled away at the rear of the convoy. The magician had slipped his fingers under the brim of the little fighter’s helmet, and flipped the mask aside. Dawn thought it the strangest thing, but there was Conan. His eyes were an intense green in a little boy’s face that seemed to float in a sea of curly brown hair. His nose was small, his teeth were tiny and his lips were full and red. He smiled up at Mr. Jay but then winced at his pain.
“We’ll get a splint on that ankle, soldier,” Mr. Jay said and then asked Whistles for some water and bandages.
Dawn looked down at Conan whose intense green eyes were staring at her. “He likes you a lot,” she had said, without jealousy. “I like you too.”
The little fighter smiled and rolled his eyes.
Like the other forever kids Dawn had been excited by the prospect of freedom, and was overwhelmed by their nighttime ride through the City. All the decades of hiding now over apparently and celebrated with this scenic tour. True it was early morning and dark, and it was on Zero, but they crowded eagerly at the windows to watch the City pass. There was still some traffic, and more than anything the kids enjoyed the looks of surprise on people who saw them. Drivers and pedestrians were motionless; their mouths dropped open, as the line of children-filled buses passed.
They traveled quickly past rundown buildings and shabby businesses and neighborhoods. But there were few people on the streets.
“The dead have gone to war,” Mr. Jay had said after he bandaged Conan’s leg. “They’re out there with the others.”
And soon the buses moved through neighborhoods that were abandoned; the buildings either replaced or incorporated into the massive support structures of concrete and steel that held the upper levels in place.
And here they were at the edge of the City passing through the broken gates. The buses began to pick up speed as the road opened before them. Dawn could see right away that lots of light and flashes were coming from the left, or west. And there was the booming roar of jet planes and explosions.
“Faster,” Mr. Jay said under his breath. He was watching out the window. In the distance, tanks and armored trucks were firing bombs and spraying flames at a long line of people. The machines scorched everything in their paths until a man with wings, an Angel, dropped out of the sky. His burning sword sliced a tank in half and it exploded.
Other things were running and fighting—things like men, and worse, monsters that fought the Angels and the people and the tanks. There were explosions and fires everywhere. Dawn didn’t know what to think!
A jet fell out of the sky and exploded just ahead of them, and pieces of metal smashed into one of the buses pushing its side in, but it kept going.
“Keep down,” Mr. Jay said, with a protective arm over Dawn. “We have to go faster.”
Soon the road approached great ramps where it would swoop up to join the elevated highway. But the ramps were still a long way off when they passed something that Dawn could not believe. The grownup voice inside her head warned: Don’t look, Dawn! But she did.
It was at the side of the road, ripping and tearing at soldiers in a ruined transport. It had the body of a dog, but it was huge—a bit taller than the bus, with a gigantic head and skin like a reptile. Its long snout carried jagged teeth, and its burning red eyes watched the buses speed pass. Its lips rolled back and they all heard it snarl before it skulked off into the darkness.
Mr. Jay jumped to the window by Conan.
“Hellhound,” he hissed, glancing over as the Nightcare fighters loaded their weapons.
“Holy Shit!” Marcus yelled from the front.
Suddenly the windows, wall and emergency exit at the rear of the bus were torn away with an explosive screech of steel and a shower of glass. The Hellhound fell back shaking a mouthful of metal. It howled as the bus sped away and came lunging swiftly after. Mr. Jay quickly reached out for the kids on the benches, pulled those to safety who hadn’t already jumped clear. Whistles and the Nightcare fighters climbed up on seats and started firing into the darkness.
The bus shuddered, as a great pair of jaws clamped down on the roof, and ripped more metal away. The Nightcare fighters fired their guns. Bullets sparked off the horrid fangs that snapped in the opening.
Dawn was pushed toward the front of the bus with the other kids. More screaming as the Hellhound bit the bus again, sending it shaking and swaying onto two wheels. They could see the thing now loping after them.
It snapped at their bus again. Its long hard teeth caught the undercarriage and lifted the vehicle for a second. It bounced, and a forever girl lost her balance. She tumbled off her seat and fell out the back of the bus. Mr. Jay leapt and caught her legs in time.
But the Hellhound howled, and surged forward eyes burning for blood before the magician could pull her back inside.
And there was Conan. His helmet was snapped closed. He fanned the air with his murderous glove. He reached out to a Nightcare fighter firing her gun and unclipped the belt of grenades.
The Hellhound was bellowing. Forever kids were trying to pull Mr. Jay and the girl to safety.
Whistles was firing her gun to no effect.
Conan slung the grenade belt over his shoulder and then pressed his masked face against Whistles’ head. He whispered something and ran.
Conan charged over Mr. Jay’s back and jumped at the Hellhound.
“No!” Dawn and everybody cried, “No!” But it was too late, and they watched as the thing snapped at Conan in the air but his nimble feet kicked against its nose. The little Nightcare fighter flipped forward onto the monster’s forehead. The beast whined when Conan slashed its eyeballs with his killing-glove. The Hellhound shook its head and knocked him off but Conan landed on his feet some yards away.
Mr. Jay had just produced his metal walking stick and had stoked it up to a radiant brilliance when the Hellhound’s massive jaws snapped closed over Conan where he stood.
Everybody screamed as it swung its head back to swallow him.
Then the Hellhound’s head exploded in a flaming ball of red.
The bus kept speeding forward. Wind whipped over the kids inside. The guns stopped firing.
Dawn hurried over to Mr. Jay and grabbed his hand. He looked at her: his face torn by grief.
88 – Balg’s Final Deal
Felon’s eyes snapped open. He shuddered—the echo of claws in flesh. A blanket was draped over him. Whipping it aside he swung his legs over the mattress and sat up. Pain made the action arthritic. He lost count of the stitches in his left thigh. The blood was sticky along the sutures. Pain pounded in from all over his body. Raising his left arm was difficult. It was stitched and bandaged. Thin black lines traced the skin past the stained cotton. It had a gangrenous look. He tried to flex the fingers. They moved, but the effort produced beads of sweat on his brow. He was hurting, but not enough. Someone had given him painkillers.
The assassin got to his feet and limped across the room. There was a deep ache in his hips. His neck and shoulder throbbed. He touched rows of punctures there.
His clothes hung in an open closet at the foot of the bed. They were damp and smelled of the sea. He pulled them on. A quick check showed him that his secrets had been plundered. The clothes were purged of hidden weapons. Felon decided that death was coming. He just hoped to take a few people with him.
He pulled his jacket on, pausing to finger the ripped fabric. The door swung open. Passport stood there with Wurn. The troll had an autoshotgun in his over-sized hands. Those weapons fired 12 gauge plugs or pellets from bulky clips at a rate of one per second. The clips held thirty rounds. Properly applied, they could demolish a building.
“Mr. Felon.” The assistant to the Demon fawned. “Master Balg awaits.”
“You pull me out?” Felon snarled.
“Yes.” Passport grinned. “The Swimmers wouldn’t touch you.”
“You’ll regret it.” The assassin shrugged into his jacket and limped after Passport. Wurn fell in behind; his hands steady on the weapon.
They turned up the twisting stair from a doorway opposite the Games Room. The Watcher’s death scream still rang in Felon’s ears. They crossed the companionway to Balg’s office. Passport held the door aside and gestured for Felon to enter. The Eyesore came after him stinking like shit in the sun.
Balg sat behind the desk, eyes radiating dangerous power. His horns were longer, curling down over his face like a ram’s. He wore a loose navy blue suit. His features had changed, were more bestial. His lower fangs hooked up over his lip. The nose was wide and wet like a bull’s. It gave him a stupid, bovine look.
“Felon, old friend. Sit down.” Balg’s movements were muscle-bound, fake parodies of human. His shoulders had swollen grotesquely, bunching and grinding under his jacket. His hairy hands hung past his cufflinks like apish imitations. “Have a cigar!” Balg knocked over a candle as he grabbed the cigar box with awkward hands.
“How are you?” Balg watched Felon take a one.
The assassin glared at the Demon then lit the cigar with a candle from the desk. A whiff of brimstone was coming from Balg—livestock too. Things were slipping—the show was winding up for the final act. Balg’s voice had changed too. His words echoed with grunts and growls.
“You have done well, Felon.” Long fangs garbled the words. “There is a matter of payment.”
“No,” Felon growled. The Eyesore breathed raggedly a yard behind him. He hadn’t sensed Passport enter the room.
“You fulfilled the contract.” The Demon looked like a gorilla in a suit. “Payment is due.”
Felon stared at the Demon’s glowing eyes—an unsteady fire flickering in them.
“I apologize for any little irregularities that have occurred over the past few days.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But that’s business—market fluctuations, acquisitions and fallout from a change in the board of directors. My partners insisted that I acquire your nun to work a deal with the Prime. Our intention was to set up an Anti-Rome ruled by a coalition of Angels, Demons and some Fallen. Humans were essential, of course, and the Prime was willing.”
“Truth!” Felon’s lips curled back.
“But Felon, I’ll pay you as arranged. I need you.” The Demon smiled weakly. “We can win this thing.”
“You’ve lost.” He drew in on the cigar.
“Hardly.” Balg shook hooked claws. “Minor betrayals have changed the game, but it is still playing out. Now that the treason is understood, we can modify our plans. A war for domination instead of partnerships.” Balg reached for the cigars, accidentally cut one in half with his claws. He growled, lips wrinkling around yellow fangs. “Michael had to be put out of the way. He got too powerful. You understand?”
“He was in on it?” Felon’s senses were on Wurn. The stench gave the troll away.
“It was his idea. He convinced Gabriel. See, Michael defended Heaven in the war against Lucifer, but he was never happy with God’s plan regarding the adoration of man. And after Judgment Day man would be brought up to sit beside Angels.” Balg’s voice quavered and grunted. “Michael told Gabriel he would never sit equal to man. He would rather set up his own business. Since Gabriel had read Revelations too, and saw that Michael was serious, he joined him.”
“A second rebellion.” Felon could tell that the story was drawing Wurn in. The Eyesore had moved six inches closer.
“Yes.” Balg leaned forward. “But they couldn’t do it alone. Other Angels were recruited—Michael and Gabriel had their own gangs, right? Neutrals had to be convinced.”
“And Demons?” The assassin shifted in his chair.
“We got involved right after Michael and Gabriel talked to Lucifer. Nick wasn’t interested. He thinks you can’t beat God in a turf war, and didn’t trust the other Firstborn. Some ambitious Fallen joined up, but most stayed neutral.” Balg summoned up some of his old bravado. “I heard about this and called them up. In the Pit we’re older families with different rules. And Demons were never forced to adore man. Instead, most of us got whacked out by the One God and his boys and stuffed in the Pit in the first place. But, I could see the sense in a coalition. If there was a second rebellion in the works, and rules were loosening up I wanted in. So lots of meetings and meals and we had a deal.”
“The Change?” Felon knew he could reach Wurn with his left hand.
“Michael gave the animals dominion over man, started the rain and stopped the aging process in the living. Gabriel’s the Angel of Death, so he quit calling souls to judgment—and he did something to the biology to keep the bodies from rotting out, since he thought an army of the dead might come in handy. I was stupid and didn’t realize it would be his personal muscle. He’s turned it against you people and now he’s turned it on me.” Balg tried to take another cigar—gave up frustrated.
“We worked in secret because nobody wanted to wake God. But as time passed we took more liberties—started to blur the lines of the Divine and Infernal Compacts. Once the Change came, all the rules loosened up. Look what you do for a living, for Christ’s sake. And that’s how Michael got whacked. He was out of control and mating with humans.” Balg looked longingly at Felon’s cigar. “Michael was the most powerful of the Celestial Choir and if anything was going to wake the One God, it would be him fucking around with humans”
“You trick me into killing him?” Felon sneered.
“Gabriel’s idea. He knew I employed you from time to time.” Balg’s fangs showed in a smile.
“You tricked me,” Felon growled. “And now you’ve been betrayed and want help.”
“After Gabriel tricked me. He wanted Michael whacked for his own reasons. When I saw his dead army, I knew he’d come gunning for me so I worked a deal with the Prime. See he’s got dreams of ruling the world—wants to make his own super race. Word on the street, he’s looking for this Cawood broad. The Marquis was from Michael’s group. I arranged through him to snatch her from you.
The Marquis would tell you that Gabriel put the finger on her and we hoped you’d go gunning for Gabriel. Since I knew you’d come gunning for someone.” Balg stared back at Felon. “But you caught Passport and the Marquis sang like a canary.” Balg looked momentarily downcast. “The Prime and me are going to war against Gabriel’s boys and the Army of the Dead. The plan is the Prime will lead the human world, and I’ll run the Demon,” he sniggered.
“You told the Marquis to kill me.” Felon spat the words.
“That’s not true,” Balg said, shifting uncomfortably. “I need you to whack Gabriel.”
“You’re no good at this,” the assassin snarled. Wurn’s clothing rustled right beside Felon. “Lucifer’s crime was being too human. Yours is not being human enough.”
Felon’s left arm lashed out and grabbed the barrel of Wurn’s autoshotgun. Adrenaline strength and speed pulled the startled Eyesore forward. He elbowed Wurn in the face. There was a crack—a grunt. Felon gripped the autoshotgun and fired at Balg’s chest. The Demon vomited fire at the first impact, his body immediately transmuted to a larger more powerful shape. Gigantic bat’s wings wedged against the roof, beat against the walls.
The Eyesore’s teeth ripped at the assassin, but he couldn’t feel them. As he fired into Balg, flame poured from the wounds.
The Demon blocked the barrage with a muscled forearm but it was eaten away and severed at the elbow. Bullets splintered enamel and bone from his teeth. The Demon tried to vanish, but the rounds pounded his flesh back to reality. The gun smoked in Felon’s hands, but he kept firing.
Wurn’s teeth dug into his wounds, and Felon heaved off his chair pulling the Eyesore forward. Upright, he rammed the freak into the doorjamb— focusing his mind and tortured muscles on a steady line of fire. The Eyesore’s breath exploded and he released his hold on the gun.
Balg’s body was trapped in the physical. Chunks of flesh flew. Fire scorched the floor under him. He screamed. Scarlet fluid pumped out of his chest. There was a flash as it ignited and his whole body boiled with flame. Felon fired until the clip was empty. Through the blaze of treasures, he could see Balg writhing on the floor. The bestial skeleton exposed, his cloven feet beat the deck as he steamed to Ardor.
The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two Page 46