Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  When the sudden attack started, the Deadwood pivoted and accelerated into the final approach. Fareel shouted in surprise, gripping a metal wall bracket so tightly it bent. Debbi flexed her knees for balance as the engines whined up and the speeding ship tilted nose down. She turned toward the outer hatch, tightening her grip on her Dragoon. Ross kept his spot lodged against the wall with his eyes closed as if asleep. Sharif concluded his prayers and pulled his weapons. Hallow laughed without humor.

  Debbi didn't sense deceleration until the ship slammed down. Hickok was out of practice. The Ranger's hand hit the release and the hatch fell open. Two steps out into the cold and she leapt from the ramp to the ground. Dust rose around her head where it was seized by the wind and wafted away. She scanned one direction, clicking her goggles to starlite filter, her Dragoon up and ready. She heard Ross land on the opposite side of the ramp.

  "Clear," Debbi said.

  "Clear," Ross replied.

  They both started running toward the rear of the towering Sanitarium. The sounds of feet ringing on the ramp followed them. The only sign of the ship lifting off was a massive blast of hot air on their backs.

  The asylum's imposing Victorian bulk hid the Stallion attack from view, but the metallic clatter of the Gatling guns was audible over the wind. Debbi sensed the almost electric edge of syker activity in the air. The Legionnaires were awake and fighting back against Stew's team.

  Debbi pushed that concern from her mind as she and Ross ran into the lee of the sprawling mansion. Thirty yards away, Debbi stopped, aimed, and fired a grenade at the nearest door. It blew off its hinges. The Rangers took the six steps to the small masonry porch in two strides. Ross fired his scattergun into the smoke-filled doorway and followed in low. A small, furry shape screeched and scampered out of his way. The two Rangers penetrated the private wing of the Sanitarium followed closely by Hallow and Sharif, with Fareel following and covering their rear.

  Without warning, the far end of the corridor filled with running figures. Inmates. They rushed headlong at the Rangers with savage abandon, arms swathed in the long white sleeves of straightjackets flailing as they ran. They were silent except for the sound of their pounding feet and the clink of metal buckles on the wood-finished walls. There must have been fifteen of them jamming the long hallway like ants crawling to the surface. They surged forward, thrashing and writhing. Fifty feet away. Thirty feet away.

  Debbi raised a Dragoon and Ross his shotgun. They opened fire. The barrage ripped through the approaching mob. Red stains spread on white canvas and bodies dropped. Inmates in the rear fought past their wounded fellows and kept charging with hands flying and mouths frothing. Not one of them showed any fear because Lupinz had scooped out their consciousness and replaced it with simple attack codes. They would keep attacking until they were called off or killed.

  So they all died.

  Debbi and Ross stood their ground, shoulder to shoulder, and the corridor filled with smoke and blood. The last inmate fell with his fingertips mere inches from Debbi's boot. The Ranger slapped a fresh magazine into her weapon and slowly started up the hallway. "Protect yourselves. Treat any inmate who's loose as a hostile."

  Sharif asked, "But what about the innocent?"

  Ross responded coldly, "Nobody's innocent in here."

  Fareel spit on the ground. "Richos!" He hefted a war ax in one hand and his glowing atax in the other. Suddenly the anouk warrior jerked and tilted his head as if listening to a distant noise. He spun around and snarled.

  Two of the large feline monsters appeared out of the night through the blasted doorway. They crouched low, growling and staring into the dimly lit and crowded corridor. Debbi raised her Dragoon, trying to push the muzzle past Hallow and Sharif who filled the hall behind her "Get down!" she shouted.

  Fareel refused to move his seven-foot frame. He shouted with warlike fury and awkwardly threw his atax at the prowling creatures. The cramped quarters hampered the toss, but still the twirling violet star sliced through one of the feline's shoulders. It shrieked with pain, but instead of fleeing, it attacked. Both of the giant cats charged the doorway. The anouk glanced quickly over his shoulder at the humans and grinned. Then he charged the monsters with a lung-scarring scream.

  The horrific cats struggled against each other to be the first inside the corridor just as the anouk slammed into them. Fareel bent back under the weight of the monsters' power. The muscles in his incredibly powerful back and shoulders knotted like cords on a sailing ship under full sail. He planted his feet under him and pressed slowly forward. The great clawed feet of the cats slapped Fareel's shoulders and dug into his midsection. Snapping fanged jaws crunched down around one of his forearms. Blood streamed down his side and back. Still, the anouk pushed against the powerful creatures, forcing them back inch by inch and blocking the doorway.

  Debbi had to make use of the time Fareel was giving them. "Come on! Let's get to Lupinz's office!"

  Ross moved to her side immediately. Hallow came after, his eyes half closed, trying unsuccessfully to pick up any syker activity in the area. Sharif looked at the straining Fareel with concern, but then turned and followed his colleagues.

  Debbi's cadre turned onto a dank, stinking corridor lined with cells. Most were already thrown open and empty. A few were closed and quick glances through the barred windows revealed pathetic figures drawn up into fetal positions on the floor or crouched in the corner. A few patients met inquiring gazes with open eyes and pleas for help. But there was no time for them now.

  Another grenade and the team was through a heavy metal door, out of the sinister patients' quarters, and into a once grand foyer. In its day, this entryway would have been magnificent. But now the marble floor was stained and chipped, and the walls were streaked with mildew. The great echoing space redounded with the sounds of heavy weapons fire from outside. Through the edges of the heavily draped windows, bright light flashed coinciding with explosions that made the decaying palace quiver.

  Debbi cautiously led her group across the open space of the foyer. She covered forward and high with her Dragoon while the others studied the shadowy corners and doorways that surrounded the vast circular space. They padded across the marble floor under the spindly sweep of a half destroyed crystal chandelier.

  Debbi heard a small splattering sound and a spot of liquid appeared on her gloved hand. Then another. Several viscous drops spattered onto the floor at her feet. Her first thought was that she'd been wounded by one of the inmates. Then she heard a faint tinkling noise from above.

  Debbi looked up.

  A strange spidery shape lurked in the viney shadows of the shattered chandelier. It shifted and the vast light fixture shuddered and tinkled. Debbi saw two eyes open in the mass as it suddenly dropped toward her "Get back!" she shouted as she backpedaled.

  Debbi rolled away and came up on her feet just as the thing hit the hard marble with a wet thud. It cried out, but immediately rose on its arms and legs. Clearly, it had once been a woman and it wore the tattered remnants of a hospital gown. Now it was a black, necrotic thing. Its wiry frame was covered with boils and sores that oozed a yellowish fluid that dripped freely onto the floor all around it. It shifted its gaze around at the humans and its stringy, matted hair flew wildly about its head. It smiled with a hiss.

  Debbi heard a wet slapping sound and a similar figure emerged from a dark doorway on the far side of the foyer. It was male and its padding bare feet were soaked in slime from its own sores. Another of the fetid things appeared at the top of the staircase and began to hop down toadlike.

  Debbi's team instinctively gathered back to back in the center of the foyer.

  Hallow said, "Don't let them touch you!"

  Ross raised his scattergun at the female thing crouching on the floor.

  Hallow grabbed his arm. "No! You'll blow God knows what kind of infection everywhere."

  "How do you know?" Debbi asked the syker as she fingered a phosphor grenade on her belt.

>   "I sense it in their minds. Lupinz told them what he was doing to them while he did it."

  The three putrid things herded Debbi and the team away from the staircase. The dripping inmates stayed too far apart from each other to burn them all with one phosphor grenade. And even so, a phosphor would set the house on fire. Before Debbi could act, the mutated things gave out gurgling screeches and charged.

  Sharif moved in a black blur. His sword appeared in a flash of silver. It whistled and one inmate's head came loose. Sharif spun, the scimitar arced, and a second suppurating head somersaulted across the foyer. The third diseased thing grabbed Sharif by the black-draped arm. With a loud stomping of his foot, the Tuareg drew his sword flat along his midsection and then lunged two-handed, driving the blade into the thing's body, pushing the toad off the floor. Sharif then yelled with triumph and drew the sword up. The blade sliced out of the inmate's shoulder and a long stream of liquid followed steel up through the air. The sword master studied the geyser of ooze with steady eyes as he danced quickly away and it spattered to the bare floor.

  Debbi immediately started up the main staircase. Ross nodded at Sharif whose eyes were smiling with warrior pride.

  "Quite a show," Hallow said morosely. "I hope you didn't breath in something nasty."

  Sharif touched the fabric draped over his face. "This is a microweave air purifier. How do you think I survived so many years of breathing sand? I'd worry about yourself, my friend."

  The group stormed up the staircase. Dr. Lupinz's office door was in sight. Debbi auto fired the Dragoon and splintered the wooden door. Ross slammed his shoulder against the jamb and pounded the butt of his shotgun against the remnants of the door to clear the way for Debbi to surge past. She leveled her firearm through the haze at a thin bald man who sat behind a heavy mahogany desk with a serene smile on his cadaverous face.

  A shotgun roared next to her head.

  "Ross, wait for Hall—" Debbi shouted even as a faint green sheen rippled in front of Dr. Lupinz. A force screen.

  The calm old man lifted his right hand and the side of the doorway where Ross stood exploded. Debbi ducked and felt shrapnel tearing into her. Ross was gone, vanished in a mound of wreckage and wall of dust.

  Hallow appeared through the haze, focused on the old man.

  The doctor shifted his gaze from Debbi to Hallow. He tilted his head with amusement.

  "Oh God." Hallow staggered in pain.

  Debbi opened up with the black gun, but she saw small sparks of green as the needles struck the force shield in front of Lupinz. At the same time, Sharif leapt through the door, bounded across the floor, and swung his scimitar at the wizened doctor. The old man didn't take his eyes from Hallow, but his right hand flicked. Sharif screamed and spun around. His black robes were shredded. Blood flew.

  The Tuareg fell to his knees, but immediately struggled up with a bubbling growl of rage. Another wave of the Doctor's fingers and Sharif doubled over accompanied by the sound of snapping bones. The swordsman dropped to the floor and writhed in silent agony.

  Hallow's legs buckled and he almost collapsed. He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish. The syker quivered as if in a seizure.

  Debbi switched to HE loads and opened up on Lupinz. The powerful shells smashed against his force shield, causing him to divert his attention if only slightly to her. She felt the telltale psychic fingers grip her mind, trying to wrench her consciousness. This was a stronger probe than she'd ever experienced. Debbi winced from the pressure and stumbled. Lupinz actually looked as if he was straining to attack her.

  Hallow glowed light green and a bolt of energy flared from him and sliced through the room. It struck the old man and knocked him to the floor. He sprang back up with incredible speed and glared at the rival syker with savage spikes of energy boiling out of his eyes. Hallow groaned and went rigid as if he was made of iron. His hands clenched into fists, shoulders hunched. Both sykers glowed, locked together.

  A brilliant flash of psychic energy exploded between the two. Hallow screamed and collapsed. The doctor staggered back against the wall, clearly shaken.

  Ross roared into the room, trailing a cloud of plaster dust. With his Peacemaker in hand, he flew across the mahogany desk and planted his boots against Dr. Lupinz's chest like a battering ram. The stunned old syker grunted and collapsed under the veteran Ranger's weight.

  Ross squeezed the trigger of his pistol with frightening speed, filling the room with blue smoke and the sound of .45 caliber explosions. Over the roar of his repeater, Ross screamed, "Read my mind now, you son of a bitch!"

  When the echo of gunfire faded, Dr. Lupinz lay still. Only he was no longer Dr. Lupinz.

  Ross stood in surprise. Lupinz was now a taller, younger man, still with the typical syker bald head, but now wearing long robes over an old Legion uniform. The Ranger suspected some sort of mind trick so he pressed the hard edge of his boot against the man's throat. Even a syker had to breath. There was no response.

  Without turning his eyes from the bleeding syker, Ross shouted, "Dallas! You okay?"

  Debbi felt as if she was trying to wake from a deep sleep. She waved that she was fine. "Is Lupinz dead?"

  Ross said, "Well, somebody sure is, but it ain't Lupinz. Check Hallow I've got Sharif."

  Debbi holstered her weapon and scuttled over to Hallow. He was breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, his face covered in blood. She opened her medkit and popped him with painkillers.

  Hallow whispered, "Avernus. Fallen."

  "Just relax. You'll be okay."

  Ross swore as he swiftly administered first-aid to Sharif's torn and motionless form. The grim Ranger looked at Debbi ashen faced. "He's a wreck. I don't think he's gonna make it."

  Debbi appraised Hallow's condition. The syker was battered but aware. In fact, he tried to get to his feet. She pressed him back down.

  Ross said to Debbi, "Call in Hickok. Let's evac him back to Temptation. Martool is there. Maybe she can save him."

  Hallow argued, "You need me for Quantrill."

  Debbi clicked onto Hickok's frequency as she told Hallow, "If you can walk then we need you to take Sharif back. Meet Hickok at the back door."

  "No," Hallow muttered. "You need me."

  Ross growled, "Do what she says."

  Debbi injected the syker with another painkiller and a hypersteroid to bolster his stamina. Then she helped him to his feet. Ross lifted Sharif from the floor and placed the badly wounded caravaneer across Hallow's shoulders.

  "You got him?" Ross asked tersely.

  "Don't worry, Captain. I'll get him out."

  Debbi nodded to Hallow. "Be careful. See if you can find Fareel."

  The syker retorted, "Wait for me. I'll come back."

  Debbi wiped blood from Hallow's eyes. "No. When those stims wear off, you'll be out. Go."

  Hallow looked from her to Ross, anger masking concern. "I feel Quantrill somewhere below. Under the house. And I sense a lot of psychic activity. Good luck." Then the syker hefted Sharif on his back and left the office.

  Debbi said to Ross, "You're wounded. Your leg."

  Ross glanced at the tear in his pants and a bloodstain on his right thigh. He paid it no more attention as he watched until Sharif and Hallow were out of sight. The veteran Ranger took a long breath as he reloaded his pistol. Debbi took a quick look at the unfamiliar body behind the desk.

  Ross lifted his scattergun from the wreckage in the hall. "Ready?"

  Debbi moved out of the office, slapping him on the shoulder as she passed. "Let's go get our man."

  Chapter 14

  The Stallion shuddered as the cannons roared. Ringo swept the chain guns in a path across the yard, ripping through the scattering inmates and cats. The only sign of the three Stallions above was the sparking of the guns as the crafts slipped through the air. The ground below was in near complete darkness. Small fires burned where rockets had torn into the fence and the searchlight towers.

  The small Legion squads sto
od firm. There were four of them, each with around 20 troopers. An opening salvo of rockets had disrupted them, blowing a few sykers into unusable pieces, but the squares had reformed and begun to take on their sinister green glow. They were powering up. The Legionnaires had been the first priority targets, but they were still viable and Stew was worried.

  He said into his mike, "Ranger Two, Ranger One. I'm moving in."

  Chennault's voice replied, "Roger that, One."

  Stew clicked to Miller who waited in the rear of the Hoss. "Miller, strap in. We're going hot." The pilot didn't have to tell Ringo to grab the trigger for the needle Gatling as the Hoss accelerated and banked up. The kid waited, outwardly calm. He knew Stew would gain some altitude and dive on the enemy. The former priest liked the speed and high profile because it gave the enemy the least attack angle. Ringo rubbed his thumb over the makeshift trigger assembly. They hadn't been able to assess these cobbled Gatlings in Temptation more than just to insure the mechanisms operated. They didn't have enough black needles to waste on testing.

  Stew sticked the Hoss over hard. Then he grunted with surprise and pulled it again. A green flash filled the windshield. The Stallion rolled 360 degrees, a maneuver it wasn't built for. Ringo shouted with alarm. Had they been hit? Ringo grasped his seat in terror.

  If they had been hit Stew's serene face didn't show it. He looked as if he was sitting in Mo's enjoying a beer rather than pushing an old Hoss beyond its capabilities over a battlefield. He tightened his lips and adjusted the stick. The ship righted with a gut-punching lurch and the distant ground appeared in the front view. The engines roared and the ground grew closer at an alarming rate.

  Ringo saw a greenish Legion squad below them. He swallowed his panic and refocused on the targeting sights. The plain mathematics of the readout calmed him. He could pretend he was no longer in a rattling gunship screaming toward the ground at insane speed. Now he was just waiting for the right coordinates to appear. And they did.