WidowMaker
Page 17
“No!” Jill cried. Her body pulled closer to the altar, and her arm scraped against the stone.
“I can’t hold him! I’m losing him!” Sweat trickled down Derek’s arms, making his palms slick.
“Don’t!” Mitchell yelled.
Cecil’s hand tore out of Derek’s grip. Jill still clung to her driver, tumbling into the altar with Cecil.
“Jill!” Derek dove at the stone. His body slapped against the hard surface. “No!” Derek slammed his fists against the altar. “Jill!”
Mitchell slumped to the ground, his head in his hands. “We’re too late …”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 16
Wind shrieked and howled around Derek, kicking up dirt and pebbles. The stones throbbed with a ruddy glow, like a steady heartbeat.
Derek tipped his head back, releasing a tortured scream.
“No! You can’t have her!” Derek squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of Jill being sucked through the stone. “Not again!” Derek whispered.
Pain seared through his chest. Derek would rather take a bullet again, than to lose Jill.
“There’s nothing you can do!” Mitchell yelled, shaking Derek. “It’s coming … look!”
Derek turned as a cyclone of leaves spiraled toward them. Shifting and churning, a cloaked form bloomed out of the chaos.
“The Druid god …” Mitchell said in awe.
Derek stood transfixed by the shape taking form in front of him. It resembled the Grim Reaper. Dark and foreboding. Masking an unknown terror inside. The only thing it lacked was a scythe. Arms raised, a foreign chant floated out from the depths within, and then a figure seemed to come forth from the darkness.
“Derek!” Jill’s scream erupted from deep inside the cloak.
“Jill?” Derek asked, squinting and peering into the cloak. His arm unconsciously reached forward.
“Help me!”
“Jill!” Derek took a step toward the god, stopping short when the air around him crackled and popped. Everything in the woods shimmied and jerked. Familiar music from Terror rang out.
“It’s connecting to the film!” Mitchell shouted over the growing noise. “It’s about to break loose!”
“Not if I can help it!” Derek raised his gun, aiming for the head of the god. “Not with Jill!” Derek didn’t know how she transferred from the altar to the god. He didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Jill the hell out of that thing.
“Gunfire isn’t gonna kill it! It’s like the mechanical monsters. You need to discover … discover a …”
“A weak spot?” Derek finished, looking at Mitchell for confirmation.
“Exactly.”
“But what?” Derek had to kill it, without harming Jill.
“Hey, do I look like a Druid?” Mitchell asked, flinging his arms wide.
Fred’s iPhone would come in handy right about now. A quick Google search on Druid gods would be nice.
Jeremy’s voice rose above the music. “Come to us, Lord!”
Derek glanced around the woods. He could have sworn that he heard Jeremy’s voice. “Did you hear that?” Derek asked Mitchell.
“What?” Mitchell asked, eyes darting around the circle.
“Fill us with your spirit!” Jason pleaded.
“The twins. They must be here somewhere.” And when Derek got his hands on them, he was going to rip their heads off. Preferably at the same time.
“It’s escaping!” Mitchell warned, pointing behind Derek.
Derek spun around to see a theater filled with people. Jeremy and Jason knelt in front of the screen, their arms outstretched to the god.
“Shit! They really did conquer the 3-D barrier,” said a person in the audience.
Derek looked at Mitchell to confirm that what he saw was real. Mitchell was slack-jawed. Yep, it was real.
“Mitchell, are we in the movie?” Derek asked. The answer, obviously, was in front of them. But they did not want to believe it.
“Oh, Spirit of Root and Loam, give us your blessing!” Jeremy said, bowing. His forehead almost touched the floor.
Jason mirrored Jeremy’s position. “We, your humble servants, await your touch!”
A gnarled hand of twisted roots burst through the screen into the theater.
“Screw it!” Derek wasn’t about to let that thing get away with Jill and kill all of those innocent people in the theater. Derek released two shots into the god’s head. The god paused. Its neck cracked and snapped as it swiveled around.
“No!” Jeremy screamed, jumping up.
“Ignore him!” Jason sat up on his heels, unfazed by Derek’s attack. “He is of no consequence.
“I told you—bullets won’t kill it!” Mitchell shouted.
“But they’re doing a pretty damn good job of distracting it!” Derek backed Mitchell away, walking the length of the screen. Derek fired another round into the cloak. “Now think of a way to kill this thing!”
“Why me?” Mitchell asked, whining.
“Because I don’t see you doing a whole hell of a lot …”
The god let out a roar of air, vaulting Derek and Mitchell through the movie screen and into the theater. Mitchell’s underwear-clad body crashed into Derek’s.
“Ouch!” exclaimed Mitchell, as he glanced around the theater.
Derek shoved Mitchell off and scrambled to his feet. The Baxter brothers headed straight for Derek, looking mighty pissed. Yeah, well, that made three of them. Derek scanned the floor for his gun. It rested under one of the theater seats. The man occupying the seat shoveled popcorn into his mouth, fascinated by what he undoubtedly thought was part of the show.
Jeremy swung at Derek. Dodging the blow, Derek slammed his fist into Jeremy’s jaw. Jason caught Derek off guard with a punch to the ribs. Derek doubled over, clutching his side. Derek underestimated the brothers in a fistfight.
The audience cheered in the background, telling Derek to kick the brothers’ asses. Derek always thought it was funny—how people talked to the movie. As if the actors could really hear them. Well, at least this time, they could.
Jason slumped to the floor. Mitchell held a large, yellow canister, which he’d used to crack the brother in the head. “That’s for the zombies!”
Mitchell twisted open the canister, splashing a greasy yellow liquid on the movie screen. Before Derek could ask why, Jeremy’s arm wrapped around his neck from behind—squeezing Derek’s airway in a viselike grip. Derek jammed his elbow into Jeremy’s sternum.
“Hurry!” Mitchell commanded.
“I don’t need any encouragement there!” Derek said, diving for his gun, his shoulder slammed into the floor. He lifted it, aiming at Jeremy.
“No!” Mitchell yelled. “Shoot the screen!”
“What …?” Derek asked, confused.
“It’s popcorn butter!”
Derek glanced at Mitchell. “Have you lost it?”
“It’s mostly oil. Flammable oil!”
Derek swung the gun and fired. Flames erupted, licking a path to the god.
“No!” Jeremy screamed as the god roared in agony. Its form retreated into the woods through the screen.
“Oh no, you don’t! I’m not done with you yet!” Derek crossed his arms over his face to block the flames, and then leapt through the screen.
Cheering and clapping accompanied Mitchell’s war cry, as he followed Derek into the woods. Derek hoped that the fire would consume the god. Devouring the leaves and roots. No such luck. The god backed away, with Jill still inside.
“Any bright ideas, yet?” Derek asked advancing on the Druid god.
“No, but if it’s any consolation, I think we just saved the president and all of LA.”
But no one was safe until this thing was destroyed and the Baxter brothers locked up for life. “Sorry, but not with Jill …”
A gnarled hand shot out of the cloak. Derek tackled Mitchell. A whoosh of air and a stray branch scraped over their backs. Mitchell gave Derek the “my
hero” look as they rolled to their sides they watched the hand pierce the wall of fire on the screen. The god’s shrieks of pain left Derek’s ears ringing. Jeremy and Jason ripped back through the screen, their tuxedos embraced by fire. Their agonized screams blended with their god’s, as their flaming bodies were dumped like unwanted garbage. Flipping around on the ground, their clothes were now a torn and smoldering mess.
Well, so much for being their Druid god’s pets. Looks like they made it to the list of sacrifices.
Jeremy pushed to his feet. His stance unsteady, he helped his brother up. Both turned on Derek, their eyes blazing with fury.
“You ruined everything!”
“If it’s the last thing we do …” Jeremy spat.
“You shall pay!” Jason hissed.
Grasping each other’s hands, the brothers bowed their heads. A chant whispered from their lips. Each beat fed the size of their god. The wind whipped into a frenzy.
“We’d better do something!” Mitchell yelled over the roar of the wind.
Derek snorted. A satisfied grin spread over his face. “These two I can handle.”
Lifting his gun toward the brothers, he shouted, “Get down!”
But the brothers’ continued, refusing to obey Derek’s command. The wind was so strong that it was difficult to stay upright.
“I said, now!” Derek ordered.
Son of a … these guys had balls. Well, Derek would show them whose were bigger. Squeezing the trigger, a bullet tore into Jeremy’s leg. He collapsed on the ground, clutching his leg. Crying out in pain.
Horrified, Jason could do nothing but stare at Jeremy. “How? We’re supposed to be protected.”
“Guess your god’s having a hard day himself,” Derek said evenly. Leveling the gun at Jason, he shouted, “Now get down!”
Jason hesitated, unsure of what to do, now that his brother was injured. Eyeing Derek warily, Jason knelt and linked his hands behind his head.
“Help us, Lord of the Forest! Protect us!”
Bellowing its rage, the Druid turned its cloaked form on Jason and Jeremy. A thick cloud of gray smoke burst from the Druid’s cloak. The haze corkscrewed around the brothers.
“No!” screamed Jason and Jeremy, as their skin thickened and hardened. Branches and leaves sprouted out of their upraised arms and heads. The brothers’ faces were frozen into a wooden mask of terror.
Mitchell approached the brothers, flicking Jason’s arm with his finger. “Talk about sporting major wood.” Mitchell looked over his shoulder at Derek. “We seriously need to get out of here, though.”
Derek shook his head. The battle had just begun. Hopefully, with the link to the brothers gone, their god was weakened. “As long as Jill’s still in there, I’m not leaving without one hell of a fight.”
“Derek …” Jill said, her voice so soft that Derek could barely hear it.
“Jill!” Derek shouted. He spun in a circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
“… The altar …” Jill’s voice drifted away.
“Of course!” Mitchell exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Jill’s right! The altar is its weak spot! Destroy the stone, and I bet it can’t remain here physically.”
“But it’s solid granite,” Derek responded.
“Okay …” Mitchell held up his hands. “I didn’t say that I had all the kinks worked out of this plan.”
Derek studied the circle. Clumps of leaves and branches spiraled around him. There had to be a way to destroy the stone. Damn. They had nothing. The stone pillars were too heavy to knock into the altar. Bullets wouldn’t work. Wait a minute! Derek spotted a camera mounted to a light pole. Of course. The brothers documented everything. They wouldn’t want to miss their precious god being resurrected.
Derek looked at Mitchell, his expression calculating.
“I don’t like that look,” Mitchell said, backing away from Derek.
“I need you to reach the pole with the camera.”
“And?” Mitchell asked.
“On my signal, knock it toward the altar. We may not be able to destroy the stone, but if it’s the Druid’s weak spot, a strong jolt of electricity might drive it away.”
“Oh man!” Mitchell looked like he had been told to dive into the god’s cloak headfirst. “I don’t like the number of ‘ifs’ in this plan of yours. You do the pole. I’ll get the Green Giant’s attention.”
“Just do it,” Derek ordered. He placed his palm in the center of Mitchell’s back, pushing him toward the pole. “I’ll distract him.” The kid completely baffled Derek. He would rather go up against a Druid god than push a light pole over.
Mitchell frowned, looking from the altar to the pole. As if he had a choice in the matter.
“On my signal …” Derek hissed, holding his hand up to Mitchell.
Derek stepped in front of the god, his gun raised in front of him. “There is no place to escape! Return to your forest!”
The Druid god slowly turned. Its branches snapped and popped with the movement. Derek could feel its unseen eyes drilling through his skull. Derek could see Mitchell slinking behind the god, headed for the pole. “There is no other place for you here! Release your sacrifices, and leave! Or … or I’ll burn this forest to the ground.”
“Now!” Derek yelled.
Out of the corner of his eye Derek could see Mitchell, his shoulder pressed to the pole like a scrawny-assed linebacker. Mitchell’s face flushed with the exertion.
A branch sprang out, coiling around Derek’s waist. He dug his feet into the soft ground, trying to anchor himself as the Druid dragged him toward the altar. The pressure increased around his waist, vacuuming the air from Derek’s lungs.
“Mitchell …” Derek groaned. It was a flimsy pole. The kid couldn’t be that weak.
“I told you I’d make a better distraction.”
Derek watched Mitchell retreat from the pole. What the hell was the kid doing? Derek struggled—clawing at the branch twined around him. Stars danced before Derek’s eyes as he strained to take a breath. He couldn’t pass out. If he did, they would all be dead.
Mitchell took a running leap at the pole. The force knocked the pole loose, careening into the altar. The light and camera smashed. Sparks of electricity skittered across the surface. The Druid’s body arched beneath the cloak. Jolts of electricity lifted it in the air. Derek’s teeth ground as the Druid jerked him around like a rag doll. A deafening crack cut through the air as the altar split in two. The altar’s jagged edges tipped toward the sky.
A thunderous howl burst from the Druid. The branch recoiled, and Derek’s body plummeted to the earth with a thump. Derek gasped, sucking in lungfuls of air. He felt like a jackhammer had been slammed into his chest. Mitchell’s cold hands slid under Derek’s shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” Mitchell asked, extending a hand to Derek.
Derek nodded, accepting Mitchell’s help in getting up. The Druid’s form shook, and leaves fluttered to the ground.
Hands fisted at his side, Derek yelled to the god.
“Return who I love! Or I swear, I’ll burn your home and sow it with salt. Nothing will grow here again!”
Eerie yellow eyes glared at Derek from inside the cloak. Branches and roots snapped, disintegrating.
“Your move, leaf-man.”
With a mournful sigh, the god collapsed. Nothing but a cloak of rotted leaves was left behind.
“Holy shit!” Mitchell stepped forward, inspecting the abandoned cloak on the altar. “You did it!” Mitchell hopped back as the cloak shifted. “Uh-oh … maybe not!”
Derek braced himself. His gun was long gone and out of bullets. A dirt-crusted hand broke through the leaves. Cecil clawed his way to the surface. His face was bloodied and bruised. Mitchell ran to him. Clasping Cecil’s arm, he guided him off the altar.
“Jill!” Derek screamed, tearing through the crackling leaves. Scattering them across the altar.
“Derek?”
“Thank God!” Derek rushed to Jill, running his hands over her. Nothing looked broken, just bruised. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said as her knee buckled. “But give me a minute before I give you a confirmation on that.”
Derek pulled Jill to him. Squeezing the air out of her. Jill wrapped her arms around Derek. Her fingers clutched at his jacket. “Don’t ever do that again!” Derek said fiercely.
“Get consumed by a Druid spirit?” Jill joked.
“No …” Derek pushed Jill away. Derek’s eyes searched Jill’s. “…Don’t ever leave me. I couldn’t take it a third time.”
Jill leaned in to Derek. Her lips were a breath away. “Don’t worry. I’m liking it right here just fine,” she whispered.
Derek tipped Jill’s chin up, drawing her lips to his.
Jill braced her hands on Derek’s chest, halting him. “You know, I heard you … when I was inside.” She flashed him a flirtatious smile. “So … you still love me?”