Jean walked up to the end of the terrace and briefly stared at the city, the cold wind rustling her fire touched hair. She pinched her eyes and sighed. It was almost over now. One way or another, they had reached the end. She turned to the spire and the cloaked figure above.
“Green Lama!” she shouted over the wind. “Let’s not drag this out any longer than we have to.”
“I hate watching lovers squabble,” Ken said under his breath.
A ghost of a smile appeared on Jean’s face. Her heart raced. “Don’t worry, Blondie, it’s about to get worse.”
Ken frowned and unhooked the clasp on his holster. “Never expected anything less,” he said quietly.
The Green Lama drifted down, his pale form impossibly more terrifying and inhuman in the unforgiving morning light. Ken gasped audibly but held his ground. The Green Lama’s skin was almost translucent, the black and grey veins pulsating. He hung there silently, his obsidian, hollow eyes looking through them with muted anticipation.
“So. The Lama’s lover survived,” the creature wearing Jethro’s body said. “How touching. Come for one last embrace?”
Jean took a step forward. “Whoever or whatever you are, this can all end right here, before it starts.”
The Green Lama’s mouth broke open into a hungry smile, but said nothing. His robes fluttered.
“I know you’re still in there, Jethro. I know you can still hear me,” she said softly. “You keep on fighting it. You’re going to break free. No matter how impossible it seems, you keep fighting. You’re stronger than it knows. So, no matter what happens—” Her voice broke. “You promise me that you won’t give up.”
The Green Lama sneered, but Jethro gave her the subtlest of nods.
A small grin formed on the corner of Jean’s lips and her eyes steeled over. “And you… The thing wearing the Green Lama. Heydrich… Cthulhu… Whatever you call yourself. Frankly, I don’t care. You can act all big and scary, but I’ve got news for you, pal. You’re facing off against the woman they called the Keystone, the same woman who helped kill a god. So, if you thought this was going to be easy, well, buddy, you’re about to be in a world of hurt!”
The wind suddenly whipped around Jean, and she heard the ruffle of fabric. Before she could react the Green Lama snatched Ken up by the neck and lifted him off the terrace.
“No!” Jean screamed.
The Green Lama looked at her with his emotionless black eyes and tightened his grip on Ken’s neck. Jean felt panic clutch the inside of her chest.
“Please, Jethro, if you’re in there… It’s me,” she heard Ken whisper. “Please. Stop him. Don’t let him—”
The Green Lama bared his teeth in a black and grey smile before he opened his hand. Ken dropped like a stone.
Without a second’s hesitation—without even a cry of protest—Jean leapt after Ken, the wind rushing in her ears.
• • •
KEN FELT weightless. His jacket flapped quietly, his hair swooshed in his ears. His gun slipped away and tumbled beside him. High above him, the monster that wore the Green Lama shrunk away.
Well, it only made sense, Ken thought. He had so long believed he would die working with the Lama, so perhaps it was proper that the Green Lama would be the one to kill him. There was little he could regret he supposed; he only wished he had seen Benn one last time. He was about to close his eyes and prepare to meet the ground when he saw Jean appear above him, rocketing down. What little breath there was left in his lungs rushed out. No, he silently begged. Let him die, he was practically the comic relief, but without Jean he knew everything was lost. She moved into a diving motion and sped toward him. Milliseconds later her arm wrapped around him. She screamed something at him, but her words were lost in the descent. As the ground rushed toward them, she pressed her body against his and swung herself in front of him. Her green, glowing eyes met his and at the last second, she pushed him.
And then the screams came.
• • •
THE CROWD became a stampede, panicked men and women climbing over one another in a mad dash to escape the oncoming horror. Even the police seemed to break, with a dozen officers turning and jumping over the barricades.
Ken was on his feet—which he decided was impossible—standing next to a small crater in the middle of the street. He touched his chest, felt his heart beat, his lungs fill with air. Well, that answered the first question. He should be in that crater, he told himself, or at the very least, a spot of the ground. In the blur of the immediate past, he remembered Jean’s eyes glowing as she pushed him away as the ground had filled his vision.
Oh, God. Jean.
There was rustling of stone and brick when a slightly phosphorescent hand appeared at the lip of the crater.
Ken felt his heart jump. It wasn’t possible.
Jean Farrell climbed out of the crater, her body crackling with electricity. She winced as she got to her feet and quickly limped over to Ken. For a moment, she didn’t look human, something closer to a god.
“Conversation for another time,” Jean said as she limped forward, the electricity dissipating like a green smoke on the wind. She let out a violent cough and spit out a bloody wad of phlegm. She could tell she was bleeding internally, and there was something cracked in her left leg.
Behind her, the Green Lama slammed to the ground in a crouching position, the impact cracking the pavement. He slowly stood, his hood covering his face.
“Get in the car,” Jean said quickly, shoving Ken toward the nearest idling police car. “In the car! In the car!”
Ken jumped into the driver seat when Jean shoved him aside. She slammed the door shut and put the car into gear. The wheels spun briefly before the car careened forward. Jean swerved to avoid the Green Lama, before plowing through the barricades. “You’re on shotgun duty,” she said, nodding over to the police issued firearm on the floor between them.
“You…” he croaked. “You survived.”
“So did you,” she said, watching the rearview mirror. The Green Lama lifted off the ground and soared after them in a blur of green fabric. “But, don’t worry, that will probably change any second now.”
“It’s the radioactive salts,” he said as Jean swung a hard left onto Sixth Avenue, dodging panicked citizens by jumping the sidewalk.
“Tsarong said it was a lower dose, but I’ve got the feeling he was lying,” she said as blood trickled out from the corner of her mouth. She’d work on processing the facts that she had survived a hundred-and-two story drop and that the possessed body of her lover was trying to kill her another time.
“But you’re bleeding.”
She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “How about that?”
Black eyes suddenly filled Jean’s side view mirror. Before she had time to react, there was a sharp screech as two fist-sized knots formed in the car roof. The wheels squealed against the pavement before they were lifted off the ground, spinning uselessly in the air.
“Ken! Shotgun! Now!” Jean screamed.
Torn from his stunned stupor, Ken grabbed the shotgun and aimed for the ceiling when the loud whine of tearing metal suddenly filled their ears. The car rose several more feet before the roof broke free. The windows shattered and the body fell back to the ground, the already spinning wheels flinging it forward. Jean fought the steering wheel as the car swung wildly left and right, narrowly missing several automobiles and pedestrians. Regaining control, she hammered down on the pedal and sped toward downtown.
Quickly brushing bits of glass out of his hair, Ken turned around in his seat and aimed the shotgun at the Green Lama, still grasping the car roof midair. “Aim for the head, right?” Ken shouted over the rush.
Jean’s face was unreadable. “Right in the bull’s-eye,” she replied.
The Green Lama tossed the car roof away and soared after them. Ken held his aim until the Lama’s bleeding wound was in sight and fired. The shotgun shell speckled the Green Lama’s face and robe, but did no
thing to halt his approach.
“We need another plan!” Ken cried as he fired again. The possessed Green Lama continued to soar after them.
Jean swung onto Thirty-Second and slammed her foot down on the gas toward Seventh Avenue. “Already on it.”
Ken blanched as Penn Station suddenly loomed ahead. “Jean, what the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” she asked, speeding toward the pink granite columned entrance, honking the horn to clear a path. “I’m taking the subway.”
• • •
GLASS EXPLODED into the vestibule as the car flew through the arcade, scattering travelers and station agents, before trundling down the staircase into the General Waiting Room. Jean kept one hand pressed down on the horn, shouting, “Clear the way! Clear the way!” She swerved between petrified bystanders and sphere-topped lampposts, the sides of the car ricocheting off their stone bases. Far behind her, she heard another crash of glass, accompanied by terrified shrieks. She quickly glanced in the side view mirror as the Green Lama smashed through the entrance and shot through the angled pillars of sunlight.
“This is a bad idea!” Ken shouted as they shot onto the Main Concourse, the glass ceiling briefly reminding him of the Merry Ol’ Land of Oz.
“Bad ideas are all we have left!” Jean shouted back. She slammed the brake and spun the wheel hard to the right. The car screeched as it drifted across the concourse. Jean hammered down on the gas and drove directly down the northern steps—the metal screaming beneath the weight—to the tracks below. Travelers ran or jumped away onto the idling train on the left hand track. Jean turned onto a vacant track, the car’s suspension squealing on impact. Ken was briefly lifted out of his seat, his grip on the door handle the only thing preventing him from flying out. The car rattled over the tracks as the black of the tunnel swallowed them. Jean moved to switch on the headlamps but quickly realized it was a futile effort when a soft green glow suddenly illuminated the darkness.
“He still on us?”
“How could you tell?” Ken asked sardonically. “I’m gonna guess you didn’t plan anything beyond this point.”
“Yup.”
A train passed along the track next to them, the rumble of wheels against the rails accompanied by the stunned expressions of passengers flashing by in the windows like a cheap animated film. Following the train’s path, Jean caught sight of a signal up ahead, blinking red.
Jean swung the car right at the fork and pressed her foot firmly against the gas as the track began a gradual incline. The tunnel steadily brightened with pale red and yellow morning light and before long Jean realized they were above ground, the towers of the city growing around her like mountains surrounding a valley.
“Oh great,” she breathed. “Of course, we’re on the El.”
Several yards away, a dark green IND train appeared, a black and white “Not in Service” sign hung in the window. Of course, it would be green, she thought with a grim smile. She quickly looked over her shoulder, the Green Lama still in hot pursuit and gaining. She sped up toward the train. If she could draw him inside, get him in a small space away from civilians; she might be able to get a clean shot. Well, she decided, at least it wouldn’t be the worst idea she had today.
As the train drew closer, Jean stood out of her seat. “Take the wheel!”
“And?” Ken glanced over at her, then at the train ahead. “Oh shit, you’re not thinking…”
Jean gave him a brusque nod. “Yup.”
“You’re insane.”
“It’s the best I got.”
Ken sighed in resignation as he leaned over and took the wheel. “Well, it’s better than nothing.”
Jean grabbed onto the twisted remains of the police car’s chassis and propped one foot on the doorway. The Green Lama flew closer, his black eyes reminding her of the golem. She checked her pistol, the radioactive bullet still in the chamber. She clipped the holster shut, brushed her wind whipped hair from her eyes.
“Jean!” She looked back at Ken, his eyes red. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you.”
Jean smiled sadly. “Love you, too, Blondie.” She reached out, grabbed ahold of the train’s handle, and swung on as Ken pulled the car away.
Ripping away the door’s hanging spring safety rails with the last of her radioactive energy, Jean slid open the door and ran into the car. Sunlight spilled in through the windows in long rectangles as commuters turned to her with alternating befuddled and disinterested expressions. Jean immediately realized she had made a mistake.
“It said it wasn’t in service!” she screamed to the ceiling. “Run!” she yelled at the staring passengers.
It wasn’t until the train car began to jostle violently that the passengers took heed and began to stampede out to the next car. There was a thrash against the left side of the car, the metal wall turning convex as the Green Lama smashed into it. Glass went flying as the windows shattered. Jean did her best to keep her footing but was forced to catch herself on one of the leather-padded seats when the car floor suddenly listed into a forty-five degree angle. She cursed under her breath and ran after the passengers heading toward the exit. She got as far as the center of the car before the Green Lama struck again, the train car suddenly turning into a sharp V. Glancing back before she jumped into the next car, Jean caught sight of the Green Lama’s pale, glowing fist bursting through the metal siding.
Panic had already infected the next car, passengers climbing over one another in a desperate attempt to force their way through the bottleneck at the other end of the train. For a moment Jean felt the train lift up beneath her before dropping back down, metal squealing. Looking back through the door window, Jean had the surreal experience of watching the previous car vertically torn from the train before it was thrown away like little more than a child’s toy. Jean turned to run, but she knew it was already too late. She took two steps before the back of the car was suddenly lifted vertically off the tracks. She found herself screaming “No no no!” as she dropped to the inclined floor and slid toward the exit, desperately trying to grab onto something. Several of the remaining passengers crashed at the front of the car below her, the sound of breaking bones and screams accompanying the cry of metal as the car broke free from the rest of the train. As the train went fully vertical, Jean caught on to a pole and wrapped an arm around it, her feet kicking uselessly in the air. Outside the train tracks and cityscape fell away before Jean was overcome with a brief second of weightlessness and the world turned into a kaleidoscope.
Then came pain.
There was little difference between earth and sky in those brief seconds, little difference between the sounds of smashing brick, metal, and bone. Bodies flew around her like glitter in a snow globe, accompanied by screams and final groans of death. Jean did her best to keep her grip on the stanchion but her strength failed her and she slipped free. Her shoulder struck against the ceiling—or perhaps it was the wall or floor. She heard something tear and she wasn’t certain if it was her skin or her blouse. A shard of glass sliced along her leg. Her head cracked against a seat. On and on, her body tumbled around the inside of the train car until suddenly she dropped onto what had once been the ceiling, her back resting against the back of the car as if she had decided to sit down. Her stomach turned and her head spun, spots floated in front of her eyes. Several of the passengers moaned as they struggled to their feet, while many more lay silent. Jean made to climb to her feet when she heard the rattling echo of a thousand voices laughing all at once.
“Jean…” the creature hissed. Inside the car a woman screamed. “Come out, Jean… I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart beating.”
“I’m sorry, my love,” Jean whispered as she quickly unlatched her holster and drew her gun. Aloud, she snarled, “Come in here and get me!”
What was once the bottom of the car was instantly ripped open in a cacophony of squealing metal. Jean held up her arm instinctually as light flooded in, her eye
s struggling to adjust. Above her, standing in the breach, a cloaked silhouette resolved into the Green Lama, his eyes bleeding black.
Jean raised her gun without another moment’s hesitation and fired. The bullet flew through the air, a fiery comet, before it struck the Green Lama squarely in the chest, cutting through his sternum and driving into his heart. The Green Lama fell back a half step before emerald light began to spill out from his eyes.
“Om!” Jethro coughed, light bursting from his mouth, his fingers, and the wound on his forehead. He clenched his fists. “Om! Ma-ni!”
A pounding sound echoed from within him, a giant’s heart coming back to life. Jethro gritted his teeth, his eyes alternating between black and blue-grey, as if a war had broken out inside him.
“Om! Ma-ni! Pad-me!”
“I am beyond death! Beyond this realm and all realms!” the creature shouted back at Jethro with his own tongue. “I have survived aeons, kings, and conquerors. You are nothing. I was, I am, and I shall be. Not in the spaces you know, but between them. I walk serene and primal, undimensioned and unseen. After millennia, our time has come again. The stars aligned and my rule will last until the sky goes dark. This is Midnight, Green Lama! The end of your era.”
“Om! Ma-ni! Pad-me! Hum!”
The Green Lama’s arms flew open as the emerald light exploded out from within him. Jean covered her face, the light singeing her skin. A howling wind came down as if they were suddenly sucked into the vortex of a hurricane. Beneath it all, Jean heard the eerily familiar voices, but couldn’t make out the words.
One thing she knew for certain; had always known: They weren’t human.
And then, all was silent.
• • •
JETHRO GASPED awake. Air flooded his lungs as his eyes fluttered open, the morning light blinding, filled with colors and blurred shapes. He felt his heart beat with the old feeling of the radioactive salts running through his veins, working like an antibody fighting off an infection. He moved his fingers, his skin crackling as if covered in burned paper. He tried to sit up but found he was too weak to move. Above him he saw the steel rivets of the elevated railway on one side, brick and glass on the other. A tower of smoke plumed into the sky, like a black blade cutting through the cold deep blue. In the distance he could hear cries of pain and the distant warble of police sirens approaching.
The Green Lama: Crimson Circle Page 36