Iron Angels

by Eric Flint

  Temple noticed Jasper’s grin in the rear-view mirror.

  “We’ll have to discuss who’d we want to play us in this crazy film,” Temple said.

  “You won’t be around to see this movie,” the prisoner said. “You’ll meet your doom tonight when the nâga is loosed upon you.”

  “Too bad they didn’t have a gag for this clown,” Jasper said. “Though a sock would do just fine, especially an old and smelly one.”

  “I don’t know, you saying your socks are smelly?” Temple asked Jasper.

  “No, but if this joker is wearing socks, I bet his smell,” Jasper said.

  “I guess we’ll see about that, Bob. How does Bob work for you? Better than useless cult member number five?” Jasper grinned. “And don’t you think, ‘you’ll meet your doom tonight’ is a little over the top? Sounds like you’ve watched too many movies there, Bob.”

  The man closed his mouth and stared down into his own lap.

  “We already know who should play Ed in the movie about all this.” Temple played along.

  “Heh. That’d be great—though Billy is getting a little old for the part.”

  The Charger slid in the mud, but righted itself with the all wheel drive the Bureau sprung for with the latest batch of cars. A few outbuildings covered their approach, but by now, with the floodlights flicking on and Penny’s head start, the cult no doubt knew they were coming. They rounded a corner and before them, the industrial structure stood like a monolith against the purpled sky.

  “Whoa—haven’t been this close to a building that size since my Marine Corps days and the Navy’s stateside hangars,” Jasper said.

  “You see Steve’s truck yet?” Temple leaned forward, poking her head between the bucket seats.

  “Not yet.”

  The overall condition of the building was fair, though there were visible rust and water stains running down the sides of the building. Blacked-out windows stood in rows, running horizontally along the sides about two-thirds to three quarters of the way up the building. Floodlights dotted the perimeter of the building at the highest points. A blank wall covered the spot where a main entrance should have been.

  “That is an odd building. I wonder why I never noticed it before, since I’m in the area quite a bit,” Jasper said.

  “Why would you notice it?” Temple scanned the visible parts of the grounds surrounding the building for evidence of Penny and her father’s pickup. “When Vance and I first arrived in the area, we were struck by all the rail and industrial buildings and complexes dotting the entire northwestern part of Indiana.”

  “Good point. Why would I care about this one in particular?” Jasper shrugged.

  The Charger bogged down in a stretch of thick mud, now about a tenth of a mile from the building. The tires spun while the engine revved high, the rpms climbed—would a rev limiter kick in? The Charger slid sideways, but the AWD and traction control and all the other bells and whistles attempted to correct for the engineers’ plans for lousy drivers behind the wheel.

  Grinding sounds, of rubber on slick mud, filled the car, and smoke from the friction oozed inside.

  “Shit. We’re stuck.” Jasper smacked the steering wheel.

  The miniature convoy behind him stopped, but only because it had bogged down. “Looks like we’re getting a ride in the back of one of those. Let’s go.” Jasper opened his door, and stepped into thick mud, his low-rise boots sinking deep. “Careful when you get out, it’s deep.” He shielded his eyes from the stinging rain and the headlights of the trucks behind them.

  “What about Bob?” Temple yelled out to Jasper, who laughed and ducked his head back inside the Charger.

  “Let’s take Bob with us,” Jasper said. “I don’t trust he’ll be a good little boy if left alone in my bucar—and I’m in enough trouble already.”

  Temple flung open her door, and she too stepped into the mud, sinking at least an inch and a half. “This is horrible.”

  “Not as horrible as what is about to happen inside, so we need to get going.” Jasper motioned for the first truck to pull up beside them.

  The rain softened, and with little indication, suddenly ceased. Temple took a deep breath of the suddenly cooled air. Steam rose from the ground against the chill—a strange, odd night.

  “Let’s get Bob into the pickup’s bed, we’ll ride with him back there, okay?” Jasper asked Temple. Since the rain stopped, their clothes clung tightly—uncomfortably so. The heavy wetness of the clothes bore down on Temple like she wore a weighted vest while doing pull-ups, and her boots might as well been made of cement the way the mud sucked down on them.

  Jasper yanked Bob from the Charger. The man fell into the mud and lay there, a lame attempt at resistance. “Hey,” Jasper rapped on the passenger window of the truck that pulled up beside the Charger, “give me a hand here?”

  The door swung open and a burly man jumped down into the mud with a squish. Temple hopped into the back of the pickup while Jasper and the burly man lifted Bob, swung him a couple of times, and tossed him up and over the side of the pickup’s bed. Bob screamed when he hit the metal.

  “Something broke,” Bob’s words were punctuated with quick breaths and his voice a whine. “I—I heard something snap.”

  Temple winced. “Handcuffs. So sorry, Bob. My apologies.”

  Jasper turned to the burly man. “Thank you. Give me a minute. I have to grab a few items from the Charger.” Jasper popped the trunk and unlocked the padlock linking two chains together serving as another theft deterrent—Bureau protocol for storing weapons in the trunk. He took out two Kevlar vests—presumably one was for Temple, but would be huge on her. At least he hadn’t turned in his old one when his Firearms Instructor issued his new vest. Jasper also grabbed a case that appeared to contain an M4 and another case holding a pump action twelve gauge Remington shotgun. Temple reached over the side and grabbed the long guns from Jasper. He came back with another bag, this one heavy and likely filled with extra ammo, but Temple yanked it aboard the truck.

  “What else is in this bag? Wow, it’s heavy,” Temple said.

  “Ammo, a first-aid kit, tactical flashlights, and extra water bottles and granola,” Jasper said. “You know, all the staples.”

  Temple laughed.

  “All right,” Jasper hopped into the bed of the pickup and through the pickup’s tiny cab window said, “Let’s head around the other side of the building, I don’t see an obvious entrance. We need to find where Penny got to.” Hopefully the brash woman hadn’t already gotten herself hurt, or worse, killed by charging ahead and attempting to take on the cult solo.

  The truck spun, but found purchase—the extra weight in the bed assisting—and off they went. Much better than driving, Temple kept an eye out for pitfalls. She realized no strategy was in place and they hadn’t done any real planning. But most of the time, when the Bureau planned, Murphy visited and the plan fell apart immediately, and for many reasons: faulty intelligence, an unexpected number of people in a residence, animals, nosy neighbors. She loved being organized, but also enjoyed working problems out on the fly and she thought Jasper’s adaptability matched her own.

  She wasn’t sure about the Völundr’s Hammer folks, though. If Jasper was like most other former military types then his Marine Corps days taught him the concept of adapt and overcome. And her entire life had been one of adapt and overcome—all the usual nonsense such as prejudice and bigotry, with a healthy dose of sexism tossed into the mix. But she’d not be the person she was without going through some hard times. Being held back made her push back, and hard.

  Fog pressed down as the short line of pickups closed on the building and proceeded to circle around, searching for Penny.

  “It’s cold.” Temple hugged herself. “But not miserable—I’ve been colder.”

  “Probably the raid vest pressing on your wet shirt. I’m a little chilled myself. So, how’s he doing?” Jasper nodded at Bob, who was stretched out in the bed, hands still cuff
ed behind his back. He was wincing and scrunching his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, but at least he had stopped whining and crying.

  “Beats me,” Temple said.

  Through the thickening fog, Temple glimpsed movement, but not at ground level. A strong breeze whisked by. Ozone and copper touched her nose, taking her breath away for a second.

  The gray fog turned orange before her. The back of the truck sagged, bogging down. Temple glimpsed over the side of the truck—they were on asphalt now, why had they stopped—

  “Holy shit!” Jasper cried out.

  At the rear of the truck stood a massive figure, deep orange against the fog. The wide snout of a beast opened wide as if yawning. Sinewy tendrils reached from the sides of the snout. The Nephilim stood on two hind legs rather than on all fours like a dragon—but the overall appearance remained similar to the one at the Euclid Hotel. But now, the longer Temple stared at the Nephilim, the less the form resembled a dragon. This could have been the devil for all Temple knew, Lucifer himself materializing on earth to take his due. Horn-like appendages swept backward from the top of the beast’s head—its face was wide and its eyes were white without irises and pupils. Its eyeball bulged, as if volleyballs protruded from the sockets. Thick legs poked into the bed of the truck, blending with the metal, the orange merging with the gunmetal gray, becoming one. The creature grew in size as the pickup’s bed dissolved.

  The tiny hairs on Temple’s arms stood straight up and a deep shiver wracked her body. She was aware of the men inside the cab pounding on the roof and knocking on the cab’s back window, but Temple paid them no heed. Not now. This could be the end for them.

  Arms, muscular arms, reached for Bob, whose eyes flicked open. His lips curled back and his eyes widened in horror.

  “But I’m not Sha ’Lu. I’m khâu!” Bob said, half pleading, half in resignation. Then his eyes closed and a look of calm came over him.

  Temple, sitting next to Bob, kicked and scrambled backward for the cab. Jasper, his back already next to the cab, pressed himself further against it.

  “Roll over the side.” Jasper waved at Temple. “Bail out of here, now! Grab one of the cases and go.”

  But she didn’t. She remained in the bed next to him, wedged into the front passenger side corner.

  The Nephilim’s arms and tendrils reached Bob and tugged on him.

  Jasper scrambled forward and grabbed Bob’s shoulders. Cult asshole or not, the man didn’t deserve that kind of death—nobody did. Jasper yanked hard, lost his grip, and fell backward on his rear end. He scuttled back and grabbed Bob’s shoulders again.

  The Nephilim pulled against him, the white eyes dead. The tendrils grasping Bob inched their way toward Jasper’s hands, the black tips touching his finger’s tips. This was one tug of war Jasper was bound to lose.

  Jasper yanked free. The beast stood upright. A dent roughly the size and shape of the hammer Penny wielded earlier resting in the creature’s torso. It must have been the one they encountered in the basement of the Euclid Hotel.

  The Nephilim’s arms and tendril’s retracted; and Bob’s body shot toward the beast.

  Gunshots echoed from behind the pickup truck. The idiots in the trucks behind them were shooting.

  “Hold your fire, damn it! We’re still alive back here!” Jasper shook—the fear of gunshots and fear of the Nephilim was too much, almost overwhelming.

  The shots stopped immediately. Thank goodness.

  The Nephilim bored down on Bob, who hadn’t screamed, until now, as he was devoured alive. Temple covered her ears. Jasper crawled across and shook her.

  “We need to go. Now.” Jasper stood and grabbed the M4 and shotgun cases. Temple nodded, sprung to her feet, and grabbed the bag full of the staples. Jasper hopped over the side. The Nephilim didn’t appear to even notice.

  Temple stood atop the bed of the truck and stared, her mouth hanging open—the foul air smacked her in the face and her eyes squinted involuntarily. The back of the truck reeked of road kill, as if the act of the Nephilim enveloping Bob sped the body’s decay, only Bob still lived.

  The Nephilim’s form morphed—what once resembled a bipedal form, now dispersed into a thick orange shell draped over a body. The beast writhed and contracted and expanded and contracted. Beneath the form, Bob’s body ripped and folded in on itself. Bones popped and protruded from the skin, breaking free of the muscles. At least he stopped screaming. The Nephilim’s orange hue turned red, and settled into deep crimson.

  Sweat poured from Temple’s forehead, stinging her now wide-open eyes.

  “Come on!” Jasper yelled from beside the truck. “That is what the sacrifices are, don’t you see?”

  Oh, God. Jasper was right. Of course, this was the sacrifice. They’d found the end product before; now, they were witnessing a sacrifice up close.

  Bob wasn’t Bob any longer, but a pile of meat and bones covered in a clear liquid with a hint of pink. The creature must have already extracted the iron content, the red blood cells. Apparently the creatures, the Nephilim, must be attracted to iron, but they couldn’t eat it—absorb it, whatever the monster was doing—in solid form.

  The creature’s legs, however, were still melded with the truck’s metal. Maybe it was able to siphon some solid iron from the truck, just not as easily as liquid or semi-solids?

  Temple’s head lightened and vertigo overcame her. The bag of gear grew heavy in her hands. She took a deep breath and tossed it over the side of the truck.

  The Nephilim’s form congealed, morphing back into the bipedal form, but with wispy protuberances poking from the top of its back. Wings?

  “Temple!”

  Jasper’s shout broke her reverie. She planted a hand on the side of the pickup and vaulted over.

  Metal creaked and compressed. The Nephilim shot into the air, aimed at the building. The orange form disappeared into the fog.

  The pickup’s bed rested on the ground—the Nephilim had melted the vehicle into the asphalt. None of the Völundr’s Hammer people were around them—they’d all run for the building, apparently.

  “Trying to be a meal for that thing?” Jasper breathed hard and fast.

  Temple realized she was doing the same. “We can’t let Steve and Carlos succumb to that fate. I didn’t like Bob, but he didn’t deserve that. We have to find Penny and get inside that building. I wonder if the cult realizes a Nephilim roams loose out here?”

  Chapter 39

  Jasper and Temple regrouped before giving chase to the Völundr’s Hammer people who had scattered after the Nephilim crushed the pickup.

  “My clothes are so uncomfortable right now.” Jasper opened the M4 and shotgun cases.

  “Yeah, I’m miserable too,” Temple said, “but once we get going, I doubt we’ll notice.”

  “Which do you prefer?” Jasper held up the long guns, one in each hand. “M4 or shotgun?”

  “The M4 have iron sights or laser?”

  “Laser.”

  “Sold. If the lights go out in there, or there aren’t any, iron sights won’t do me much good, right?” Temple opened her hand.

  Jasper handed her the M4 and three fully loaded magazines. “You remember how to use advanced weaponry?” He grinned. “I know you headquarters types don’t often pull out the long guns.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I remember.”

  Jasper ensured the shotgun’s safety was engaged then opened the action, rolled the gun on its side, dropped a rifled slug in and closed the action. He then pushed rifled slugs into the shotgun’s tube. He grabbed his extra bag, the one containing extra rounds, first-aid kit, flashlights, and food and water, and slung it over his shoulder.

  Temple slapped the M4’s bolt and held the weapon slightly depressed, angled at forty-five degrees to the ground.

  “All right, we’ll head around the back side of the building, opposite the main entrance. Low and tactical, using cover as much as we can. I doubt these clowns have snipers.”

 
“No, they have these Nephilim roaming about maiming and killing people,” Temple said.

  “I’m trying not to think about that part.”

  They stayed low, using random barrels and bushes as they came upon them. A muddy patch of asphalt displayed multiple sets of footprints heading in the direction they’d decided on.

  “Must be the Hammer people.”

  The building’s southeast corner poked out almost to the grassy and muddy area they traced. The floodlights high up on the building remained on, but they heard nothing coming from inside the building. However, voices echoed from around the corner they approached. Jasper and Temple paused for a breath.

  “I’ll take a peek.” Jasper poked his head around and pulled it back. “All right. Steve’s truck is jutting from the wall, the nose smashed and steam or smoke wafting from the mangled hood. Penny is slouched against the wall of the building beside the totaled truck. The men we came here with, the Völundr’s Hammer people, are arguing with each other. I think I saw another mangled body off to the side of the truck. So, either the Nephilim who killed Bob did that, or there may be another Nephilim.”

  Temple’s eyes widened. Jasper knew another Nephilim flying about was a stretch, but they should be prepared for all possibilities, right?

  “We can’t even deal with one,” Temple said. “These weapons are likely to be useless against those things. You emptied your Glock’s magazine on one and it never flinched, right?”

  “Yeah. Steve’s hammer when Penny swung had a noticeable effect, though. But let’s hope Penny’s okay.”

  They rounded the corner, making enough noise so they wouldn’t startle the men arguing about fifty feet away from them. The men looked up, but didn’t react.

  “Penny, you okay?” Jasper walked up to the woman and barked, “Penny!”

  The woman came to life, blinking. “The beast took us by surprise as we planned our entry. Billy got it bad.” Penny’s eyes drooped.