by M. D. Massey
“That’s where Christopher is. I’m almost sure of it.”
I took point again and tried the door. It was unlocked, so I pulled it open an inch or two, only to find that the hinges squealed loudly. I shut it again, then went behind the counter and found some cooking oil to grease the hinges. After a liberal application of hydrogenated soybean gunk, I tried the door again. The door didn’t protest half as much, but it was still louder than I would have liked.
Beyond the door was a staircase that did a u-turn about ten steps up. The blind corner made me nervous, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. I stalked forward quietly, catching the scent of fresh blood at about the third or fourth step up. When I hit the landing, I heard shallow breathing coming from above us. I switched the sword to my left hand and drew my Glock.
I moved around the corner, scanning the space above. There was still no sign of the nos’, so I proceeded up the steps and into the area ahead. It was an employee lounge space, or it had been at one time. We found Christopher tied up, bloody and unconscious, on an old orange pleather couch. I assumed the nos’ was hiding behind the door at the back of the space that said, “Manager,” possibly semi-conscious in a blood-drunk state. I’d seen it happen before; still, I wasn’t taking any chances.
I motioned to Bobby, and he picked the kid up and slung him over his shoulders. Christopher was stout, but his weight was nothing to Bobby’s werewolf strength. I signaled for them both to head downstairs, and we let Gabby lead while I backed out, watching the door to the manager’s office, worried that the nos’ might burst out at any second.
As I edged out of the room, Gabby moved past the landing and around the corner. Just as she slipped out of view, I heard the THWAP of the crossbow and the report of the little .22 firing three times in rapid succession.
Ambush!
EIGHTEEN
SOILED
I vaulted the waist-level pony wall that served as the safety banister for the stair, nearly landing on Gabby in the process. I wanted to get in front of Bobby to give him time to either retreat or to set his load down and fight. But what I saw when I hit the lower set of steps was heart-warming; Gabby had already dropped one rev’ with a bolt through the throat, and another with three small holes punched in its face.
I admired her work for a moment. From the looks of things, we weren’t necessarily ambushed, but instead had just been the victims of bad luck. The revenants who inhabited this place with the nos’ had returned from their evening hunt, and they’d walked in at the exact moment that we’d decided to leave.
Unfortunately, Matthew had grossly underestimated their numbers. Instead of three or four revs, there were eight that I could see; this could put a serious cramp in my plans. Revs were much faster than deaders and even ghouls, and almost as deadly as vamps. The only saving grace we had was that they weren’t as durable as a nos’, so that was something in our favor. But we needed to take them out quickly, before that nos’ came running up our asses. I holstered the Glock and took a two-handed grip on the katana, leaping off the stairs into the crowd of revs below.
I caught the first one across the face, slicing its head neatly into upper and lower halves. But there were a half-dozen more, and they responded quickly to my attack. Within seconds, I was fighting for my life. Three of them came at me all at once, but luckily they came from the same direction and at the same time, so I could deal with them as a single threat.
I held the sword low and across my body as I backed up, moving just enough to make them think I was scared, but not enough to pull completely out of their range. As they lunged at me, I brought the sword up diagonally in a vicious backhand slash, severing the first one’s leg below the knee, the arm of the next at the elbow, and catching the last one across the face deeply enough to give it pause, but not enough to punch its ticket.
As the first one collapsed, I sidestepped and beheaded it, then kicked the falling corpse forward to trip up the handless one coming at me with prejudice. I waited until the last moment, then raised the sword and stabbed it through the neck and out the back of its head. I kicked it off my blade just in time to slash the last of the three from stem to sternum, splitting its torso almost in two and taking it out of the fight. It dropped to its side and began mouthing the air like a fish out of water. I didn’t think these things needed to breathe, but they needed working lungs to scream. This one was shit out of luck in that department at the moment.
Peripherally, I saw that Bobby had set Christopher down on the stairs, leaving Gabby to guard him while Bobby entered the fray. Currently, he was kicking serious ass with those massive claws of his. He’d disemboweled one, leaving it tripping and slipping over its entrails, and practically beheaded another that lay on the floor with limbs akimbo. Its severed head hung on like the top of a broken Pez dispenser, at an odd angle and useless to boot.
Gabby, on the other hand, took precision shots from the stairs and kept the revs at bay. The suppressed .22 she was using was underpowered for fighting revs, but even so she’d killed another one and was working on ending her fourth momentarily. Christopher was still out cold, so she stayed close to him and used the higher ground to her advantage.
That left two revs to kill. I looked around frantically to see where they’d gone when one landed on my back and clamped its teeth right on my shoulder. I howled in fury and agony, stabbing it in the face over my shoulder with the sword. It jumped off me and skittered into the corner, cowering, whining and moaning like a thing possessed.
Which, I supposed it was. But now it was a thing possessed and in agony. Unfortunately for me it wasn’t a complete win, since I was hurt too. It had bitten deep. My shoulder went numb and made my grip weak. I sheathed the sword and drew my Glock again, fumbling for the silencer that I’d stashed in my cargo pocket, and taking my sweet time getting it firmly tightened on the barrel.
Meanwhile, Gabby had reloaded her crossbow and casually walked around the room putting bolts in heads and making sure everything that still moved didn’t. We had one rev’ unaccounted for, and I checked high and low for it to no avail. Then, I remembered the nos’ upstairs.
I turned toward the steps to head back up, but I was too late. The thing was already crouched over Christopher, hovering menacingly with one clawed hand on the boy’s throat. I froze, as did Bobby and Gabby. Well, sort of. I heard one more crossbow bolt drive home in an undead creature’s skull, then silence. That girl did not mess around.
It spoke. “I knew you weren’t with the slavers. You thought you had us fooled, but I’ve been around too long—yes, too long to fall for human tricks.”
It drew each ‘s’ out like a snake, and I honestly couldn’t decide if it was just trying to be creepy, or if it had a lisp. I decided to stall for time so I could save the kid. “Eight years isn’t that long at all,” I replied. “Although considering the rate I’ve been killing your kind, that would be ancient in these parts.”
It chuckled in that dry, raspy voice they all seemed to have. “Eight years is a raindrop in the sea, compared to how long I have been alive. I watched pharaohs rise and fall, saw empires crumble. How insignificant your lives are to one such as me.”
I looked it over, and to be honest, it did look extra crunchy for a nos’—a little gray around the gills, so to speak. “Well, then. Such a shame your life has to end here, in this dump.”
It inclined its head toward me. “Indeed. I saw you fight my brood, and I am overmatched.” It paused and raised one bony, clawed finger on its free hand. “However, I know you came here for the boy. I can kill him, or you can leave, and I will allow him to live.”
I clucked my tongue. “Hmmm. I have a better plan. You slither on back to whatever Elvira-style lair you have going upstairs, and we take the boy and leave. Or, I kill you where you stand.”
It stood still as marble for several long seconds, considering my offer. “It seems we are at a détente.”
I gave a frisky shiver and smirked. “Oh, I ju
st love it when you creepers speak French. It lets me know you have a sensitive side, to go with your homicidal killing streak.” I composed myself and glared at the vamp with menace. “There’s no standoff here. We hold all the cards. If you want to live another three thousand years, you’ll back off and hide somewhere while we cart this boy back to where he came from.”
It glared at me and blinked. “You have a spine. That’s something I haven’t seen in a human since the Middle Ages.”
“Well, Skippy, get used to it, because a lot of shit is fixing to change around these parts, and soon.”
It tilted its head, as if trying to puzzle me out, then it sniffed toward me and grinned in an evil rictus of a smile. “Ah, Mr. Sullivan, I presume. Come for the girl with the Titian hair. I should have known; you have her scent all over you.”
That gave me pause. What the hell did this thing know about Kara, and how did it know my name? If Glocks had external hammers, I’d have cocked mine right about then. My voice took on a dangerous timbre. “What do you know about her, you dried up mummy-looking piece of shit? Tell me!”
The nos’ looked me up and down. “Well, I believe I am starting to gain a certain fondness for you, Mr. Sullivan. You—amuse me.” Then it drew itself up, coughed slightly, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d have to describe the look it gave me as… pitying. “There’s nothing you can do for the girl now, boy. Go home, lick your wounds, and leave the Pack alone. There will be other battles to fight, ones that you can win.”
I glared and shook my head slightly. “Just what do you care about us, and whether we live or die here?”
The thing tilted its head and gestured flippantly. “I care a great deal. It is no small coincidence that I chose to locate here, so close to the Corridor pack and Piotr. They are upsetting a balance that has lasted for millennia. I would not see your kind destroyed by their machinations.”
“Only because you feed on us, and fear what would happen if we become extinct.”
“Touché, Mr. Sullivan, touché.”
I never trusted much of what these things had to say before, and after what Colin had told me I wasn’t about to start to now. I was losing my patience with this nos’, and was also eager to get the hell out of Dodge. I realized that it was probably trying to stall us until dawn, so we’d be at the mercy of the horde outside. Tricky, tricky.
I shooed him away with the barrel of my Glock. “You just crawl back on up to your nest, and we’ll be out of your way shortly.” I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
The nos’ smirked, acknowledging that I had figured out its plan. “Very well. Since I am curious to see what happens when you clash with the Corridor pack, I will acquiesce to your demands. But make no mistake, Mr. Sullivan—we will see each other again.” And like that, the thing tilted its head in a slight bow and did what I’d suggested by rapidly slinking back up the stairs and out of sight. I reflected that I’d never be able to figure the damned things out, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I shook my head and called for Bobby, who immediately zoomed over and checked on Christopher. After he made sure the kid still breathed, he hoisted him up on his shoulders and backed away from the stairs.
I pointed down the hall toward the theaters. “Go on ahead and exit through the way we entered—I’ll just be a moment. And if I don’t follow you right out, rendezvous with me back where we left Matthew.”
Bobby answered, chipper as ever. “You got it, boss.”
Gabby lingered after Bobby took off for the back rooms. “Go on Gabby. I’ll only be a moment. Bobby needs you to watch his back while his hands are tied up with the kid.” She stood her ground for another moment, concern etched on her face. “Go, I said. I’ll be right behind you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’d better be, or I swear I’ll come back here and kill every last thing I find looking for you.”
“Just go, kid, I’m one step behind you.”
Finally, she did what I asked and vanished down the hall.
NINETEEN
CLEAN
After she had gone, I opened my pack and pulled out the Molotovs I’d made at the LARPers’ safe house. I used my Bowie to stab a jagged hole in each lid, then I stuffed some rags in both and lit the first one up. I backed up almost into the hall and tossed it underhand through the door and onto the landing between the upper and lower half of the stairway. It shattered, bursting into flames. The carpet ignited immediately, and the fire spread quickly up the stairwell. Good.
After I was sure that I’d trapped the nos’ upstairs, I ran back to the theater where we’d come in only minutes before. I lit the second Molotov and smashed it on the carpeted floor a few yards down the hall. Same action, same effect; the carpet went up almost immediately, and I ducked into the theater to avoid the flames and smoke.
I watched the flames leap and spread for a moment, then shut the door and sprinted for the emergency exit. I was just a few feet from the door when a four-foot-nothing ball of teeth, claws, and fury tackled me. The last rev’ had set a trap for me, and I’d walked right into it. Its momentum bowled me over on impact, and immediately I was in a fight for my life on the ground.
Folks who do jiu-jitsu think that their art can deal with just about anything and anyone on the ground. For the most part, they’re right. But factor in more than one opponent, or throw a blade into the equation, and the dynamics of a ground fight change pretty quick. That’s roughly the situation I was in, with a ninety-pound evil dynamo made up of claws, teeth, and gristle trying to rip my eyes and throat out while I attempted to fight it off.
I scrambled for space in order to keep it away from my eyes, trying to get into a position to kill it without getting my arms shredded all to hell. Finally, I got tired of its bullshit and grabbed it by the throat, holding it at arm’s length while it savaged me with those claws. I drew my Glock with my other hand and blew its brains out at near point blank range. My left arm was a bloody mess now, but the look on its face when it realized I was about to end its miserable existence had been worth the price of admission.
I tossed its carcass away, resting for a second with my hands on knees, exhausted. Catching a whiff of smoke and the nasty chemical stew that it carried, I realized that I didn’t have much time to spare. I cut some strips of the decorative curtain from the wall, quickly dressed my arm in makeshift bandages, and popped open the emergency exit just as the smoke started billowing into the theater from the hallway. Fleeing the smoke and fire, I ran out into the rapidly approaching dawn, hoping like hell I could make it back to the safe house before I the morning light revealed my sorry, rev’-bitten ass to the dead. They might very well ignore my presence—but among thousands of undead, I didn’t care to risk it.
And I still had the wolves to deal with after this. Ain’t life grand?
I limped into the safe house just as the first rays of dawn peeked over the surrounding houses. Bobby and Gabby greeted me just inside the front door. On my way back, the deaders had mercifully left me alone, and I’d done my best to leave them alone as well. It was like I was almost one of Them; even when I stumbled and accidentally bumped into one, it acted as if I wasn’t even there. I didn’t find it to be amusing in the slightest, that I might be turning into the very thing I fought to kill. Of course, Gabby had retained her humanity and then some; but then again, she didn’t have deader juice running through her veins, either.
Bobby grabbed me to keep me from falling as I stumbled through the door. They each took an arm, half-carrying me down to the basement and into the safe room. Inside, Matthew cared for Christopher, who was laid out on a bunk in the corner, sipping liquids and looking a little less peaked than he had at the theater. They guided me into a chair, and Gabby soon started pulling clothing away from my wounds and scrubbing them with a clean cloth and water.
Bobby glanced at my shoulder and arm and shook his head. “Boss, you look like you got into a fight with an angry blender and lost. You feel a
ny different? Woozy, feverish, dizzy?”
“Nope, just bone-ass tired like I just got my ass handed to me on a platter. That last rev’ caught me flat-footed leaving the theater.” I turned my arm over and looked it up and down. “Nicked me up pretty good, I suppose. I splattered the thing’s brains all over the screen. The place is a smoking heap by now, so that nos’ is toast.”
Bobby shook his head ruefully. “What a shame.”
Gabby grabbed my arm back and sucked air between her teeth, cursing silently in Spanish as she cleaned the cuts. She splashed something on my wounds that felt like liquid fire.
“Oh, good Lord. What the hell was that?”
Matthew looked over from the bed. “Hey, you found the moonshine. Great antiseptic, that stuff. Works like a charm, but burns like the devil.” Then a confused look crossed his face. “Gabby, you did see the tincture of marigold in the med kit, did you not?”
She nodded with an evil grin as she wiped off my wounds with clean gauze. “Oh, I did—La Araña loves that stuff. But it doesn’t sting nearly as much as grain alcohol.” She scrubbed at my wounds furiously with gauze doused in moonshine, making me wince at her not-so-gentle ministrations until I tried to take over. She slapped my hands away in response and gave me a dirty look. “It’s what you get for making us leave you behind, viejo.”
I shrugged and took a slug from the bottle of moonshine. To say that it was harsh was an understatement. Although it burned all the way down, I kept taking small swigs until a feeling of warmth and numbness had worked its way all through my body. The buzz made it easier to tolerate Gabby’s care, and after she had finished I collapsed on the bunk opposite from where Christopher rested.
He lifted a few fingers at me in acknowledgment. “Sir Scratch—I owe you my thanks,” he whispered.