The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 1 thru 5 (Smoke Special Edition)

by Craig Halloran

  The gun came down. The butt of the weapon struck her skull. Sid’s head filled with painful bright spots, stars, and then blackness.

  CHAPTER 29

  Sidney awoke with a shiver. Rubbing her bleary eyes and aching head, she managed to make it to her feet. Where am I?

  She was in a round room about twenty feet across, with walls that were made of cut rock on a framework of iron beams. It was illuminated by dim yellow lights. The ceiling was maybe ten feet high, and a heavy metal door, no window, was closed behind her. This must be where they dropped me off.

  She ran her fingers along the door’s edge. There were no handles or latches, and the door was sealed up tight. “Great. Welcome to the catacombs, Sid.”

  The room she stood in was cold and lonely. She already missed Smoke, and despite the warmness her suit provided, a chill went through her. Not a fan of caves. Or the dirt that’s in them. She’d gone spelunking once in her teens and sworn she’d never do it again. Getting trapped a few hundred feet underground had unnerved her then. It was worse now. She had a feeling she was so deep that no one would ever hear her scream.

  “Well, Sid, let’s go find your sister.”

  She shuffled forward. Something sharp bit into her foot. “Ow.” She braced herself against the damp wall and hoisted her foot up. A sliver of something was stuck inside her foot and she plucked it out. Is that bone? She flicked it away. Something else caught her eye on the grimy floor. It was a few pairs of flex cuffs. “My, won’t these come in handy.” She looped them into her belt and shuffled—foot bleeding—down the corridor.

  The walls and floor were slick and damp in some places but not all. Her feet found some cleared-off tiles cut from marble. Her nose found something else. She sniffed. Something somewhere was rotting. She balled up her fists and carried on, eyeing the ceiling from time to time. Every twenty steps or so she’d notice a small device mounted on the beams. Are those cameras? What a bunch of sick people.

  The corridor winded left and right, making right angles and sharp bends and sometimes crossing over. Its grade went up and down, giving her the feeling she was inside some sort of military bunker. She’d been in them before, great man-made caverns and tunnels beneath the ground or built into the mountains. They were stockpiled with weapons and all kinds of other devices. She walked for minutes, twisting and turning, losing all sense of direction. Morning Glory. I really am a lab rat.

  Her stomach groaned. A strong hunger gripped her. Crap, how long was I out? It could have been hours, and the suit tended to make her more hungry than normal. It gave her energy, but it made her want to eat more too. Forget about it, and keep going.

  As her feet slapped over the wet floor, the foul odor became stronger. She covered her nose and forged ahead into an open room. A lone metal desk sat in the middle of the room with a body, seated in a chair, slumped over it. It was a man in uniform. The back of his blue shirt was stained in blood and showed a gaping wound. His flesh was rotting from his skin and it looked like rats, really big ones, had nibbled on it. He wasn’t wearing any shoes.

  Geez. Poor guy.

  She gave his body a shove, and it collapsed onto the floor. She held back her shriek. The man’s face was chewed up. His eyes were missing, and his mouth hung open in a silent terrified yell. There was a name badge on his shirt. She ripped it off. John Carter, DCPD. She remembered reading about how he’d gone missing. She glared up at the cameras.

  “I guess I’m not alone fighting you minions! Screw you!”

  She tucked the nameplate away in her back pocket. She ground her teeth thinking about his family and all they had been through since he went missing. It charged her blood. She patted down his body, searching for a weapon of any kind. Finding nothing, she searched the room. There were some empty shelves, boxes, and crates. A bunch of crap long abandoned. Oh well.

  There was another corridor across, identical to the one that she came from. She started toward it and stopped. She heard footsteps coming her way. Steady. Purposed. She hid on the other side of the desk and waited. On her hands and knees, she peeked from underneath the desk. A pair of bare feet emerged from the corridor and slowly began to circle the room.

  “Muh… muh,” muttered an inhuman voice as something sniffed the room.

  Sidney shifted her way around the desk, staying out of its line of sight. Her skin crawled at the sound of its voice.

  “Muh… muh,” it said, feet shuffling over the floor. Its movements stopped. Its voice fell silent. Only the hum of the yellow lights and the sound of dripping water remained—along with the foulness of the air.

  Sidney swallowed and took a peek over the desk. Her eyes locked on a burly man with stringy hair and hollow eyes. A huge bloodstained club was in his hand. A deader!

  Its eyes locked on hers. “Muh!” The weapon came down with all of its might, pounding at the desk. Whack! Whack! Whack!

  Sidney sprang to her feet and backed away. A second deader emerged—bald and bearded— from the other corridor, dragging another crude club behind it. It raised the weapon up and came right at her, swinging left and right. The pair flanked her behind the desk, leaving only a straight path down the corridor where she had not been. There might be another deader back there!

  The clubs came up and slammed down. Sid dashed between the pair of deaders and circled around the room. Their moves were mechanical but quick as a man of the same size and with unrelenting purpose. The clubs clanked off the walls, toppled the shelves, and ricocheted off the floor.

  Chest heaving, Sidney ducked, twisted away, and spun through the pair of them. A bludgeoning blow ripped through the air, missing her and cracking the skull of the other deader. It teetered over and fell. Its club clattered to the ground. Sidney went for the weapon.

  The shaggier one with the club charged. Whack! Whack!

  It missed her curled-up legs. Her fingers stretched out, grabbing the club by the bottom and catching it up in time to block the next thunderous blows that rained down on her.

  Clack! Clack! Clack!

  The thunderous blows jarred her arms. She drew back her leg and kicked out its knee.

  “Muh!” It said, teetering over and spilling to the ground.

  Sid scrambled to her feet. A powerful hand snatched her leg and jerked her down. The first deader had her in its fierce grip. It balled up its fist and punched her hard in the thigh.

  “Aargh!” Sidney yelled. “No more of that!” She hit it in the head with the club. Whack! Whack! “Die, monster, die!” Whack! Whack! Whack!

  Its grip loosened.

  She tore away, scrambling to her feet. Her lungs were burning, and her face was dripping with sweat. Sidney stumbled back against the wall. Two more deaders emerged from the corridors with clubs bigger than the last. “I hate you things.”

  CHAPTER 30

  “Muh! Muh! Muh! Muh!”

  “Oh, shut up!” Sidney swung with all of her force into the nearest one, dismantling its chin. Clak!

  It fell backward, jostling the others.

  Sid made her move. Fueled by another burst of adrenaline, she sprinted by the other deaders and darted into the corridor. Catch me if you can! She ran, leaving the distant ‘muh muh’ echoes of the deaders behind her. She slowed to a stop, legs cramping, and gasped for air. Her heartbeat was pounding inside her temples. The wound in her foot burned, but she ignored it.

  Think of something, Sid. Think!

  Feet splattering over the wet stone floor, she headed toward the sound of rushing water. Perhaps there was a drainage tunnel leading out. She picked up the pace, following the lights around a series of sharp bends in the tunnel. The path split off from time to time, but she followed the sound. It grew louder and louder. She turned down a narrow corridor until the sound of crashing water roared in her ears. The ceiling lowered and she stooped down, traveling toward the sound until the tunnel came to a stop.

  No!

  A wall of metal bars blocked the exit. Beyond them a series of tunnels roared wit
h water rushing through them. She hit the bars with the club. The grid of iron rang out. She hit it again and again. Clang! Clang! Clang! She turned and slumped back against the bars. Took some deep draws through her nose and clutched the stitch in her side. It had been awhile since she’d run so hard.

  “Muh…”

  Her head snapped up. A deader bore down on her on stiff, fast-moving legs. Closing in, it swung its club. She sidestepped and walloped it in the side of the head. The creature’s head tilted and snapped back. It swung again. She parried. She blocked. Clack! Clack! The unrelenting creature of the dead laid into her with heavy blow after heavy blow.

  “Muh!”

  “Muh you!” she yelled back. She clobbered it in the face, busting its nose. She was skilled. Quicker. She blasted it in the teeth. In the knee. The back of the head. She beat it down. Blasted it full in the neck. It lumbered aimlessly then cut loose a wild swing.

  Crack!

  “Aaaah!” Sidney cried out. It had busted her in the hand. The club slipped from her fingers. Tucking the wounded hand beneath her arm, she backed away. “Where’s a flamethrower when you need one?” She shuffled back and ran into another deader. “Ugh!”

  It locked its arms around her waist and held her fast. The other came at her and unleashed a furious swing.

  She ducked her head. The club skimmed over her face and cracked the head of the deader holding her. It let out a ghastly groan, stumbled back, and slammed her hard on the tunnel floor. She grabbed its hands and tried to break free of its grip. She kicked, elbowed, and flailed. The other deader with the club attacked again. Whap! Whap! Whap!

  It missed her and hit the other one. Sidney twisted in its loosened grip, pulled her feet under her, and shoved her way free. It fell back into the other, creating a pile of undead flesh. Gasping for breath, she found herself pinned between the deaders and the barred gate. Morning Glory! How can I stop these things? I need my weapon!

  The deaders gathered themselves, blocking the path of any escape out of the tunnel, and closed in once more.

  Sid’s frantic hands found the handle on the club she’d lost. She got up on her feet. “Fine! Come and get me!”

  “Muh!” one said with a dangling jaw.

  “Muh!” said the other with a crushed eye socket.

  She charged with her club high and brought it down with all of her might on the nearest one. The club clocked off of its skull and the handle busted. No! She tossed the broken weapon aside and launched a kick into one deader’s gut, doubling it over. She locked her hands around the swinging club of the other and hung on for dear life.

  Whop!

  Something hard crashed into the side of her face.

  She kicked back and kept kicking. Something hit back and kept hitting. She fought with everything she had, but she got tired. They didn’t. She lost her grip on the club and sagged onto the tunnel floor. She looked up at her undead aggressor, spat out the words, “I can’t go down like this,” and launched a futile punch into its groin. “Not to some undead bastard.”

  CHAPTER 31

  The deader’s club started to descend.

  Glitch!

  A blade erupted from the front of the deader’s chest and ripped back out of it. The deader collapsed on top of Sidney. She shoved it off. What just happened?

  The remaining deader whirled away from Sid and faced the new attacker. It was Smoke, standing tall with a gory spear in his hands. The deader charged. Smoke rammed the spear into its heart and clean through the back.

  The deader let out its last cry. “Muh!” Its body slumped to the floor.

  Smoke braced his boot on the deader’s chest and pulled the spear out. He offered Sidney his hand.

  She took it. “Where did you find a spear?”

  Blood was dripping down from a gash in his forehead. He wiped it away. “Another deader. Come on. These tunnels are full of them.”

  “Hold on.” She took the spear away from him, glared at one of the deaders, and stabbed it again. “Okay, now we can go.”

  Nodding, Smoke reached down for one of the clubs. “This all right with you?”

  She shrugged. He led. Still catching her breath, she followed. Smoke moved with ease through the network, not moving too fast or too slow. They tread on bare cat’s feet, stopping and listening. Deaders roamed. She could hear their heavy steps slapping the wet stones, but it was hard to tell where they were coming from.

  Smoke stopped and held up his hand. Something was coming on heavy feet, but she couldn’t see around the bend. “Go back,” he said.

  Turning, she crept back down the tunnel toward the last intersection that they passed. Just as she was pressing her back against the way, two more deaders, one very big, lumbered by carrying machetes. Cripes!

  Smoke’s hand gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. His breath was on her ear. A tingling sensation raced through her. Now’s not the time for these kinds of feelings. Something crawled over her feet. A rat the size of a cat was sitting on her bare toes. “Eek!” She kicked it off of her.

  The two deaders turned around and ran right for her. Charged with adrenaline, Sidney lowered the spear and ran the first one through. Glitch! She ripped it out, looking for the rat. “Where are you, little vermin?” She jabbed at a rat scurrying over the floor. “Not sure which I hate worse. Rats or deaders.”

  “Sid!” Smoke yelled. “Sid!”

  She spun around.

  Smoke—swinging two handed—was clubbing away for his life against a deader that towered over him swinging a machete like a butter knife.

  She jammed the spear into its back. She missed the heart.

  It twisted, breaking the spear shaft off in her hands and backhanding her in the face.

  She landed hard on her ass. “Ooph!”

  Smoke renewed his assault, hammering it in the face. “Can’t hit what you can’t see!” Whack! Whack! Whack!”

  With a spear poking out of its chest, the deader chopped back. The blade slit Smoke’s abdomen, doubling him over. The machete went up. Smoke’s decapitation was soon to follow.

  “No!” Sidney screamed. Her long legs churned. She slammed into the back of the deader’s legs and knocked it from its feet. Wump! It tried to split her in half. She rolled away.

  Smoke sprang like a panther and locked up its arms and neck. “Kill it!”

  “With what?”

  “The spear,” he said. The veins in his neck bulged like purple roots. “Hurry. I can’t hold it much longer!”

  She crawled over, grabbed the gory spear in her hands, jerked it from the deader’s chest, flipped it around, and plunged it into its heart.

  Its long legs shivered and went still.

  “That was gross,” Sid said.

  Smoke shoved the deader aside and said nothing, wincing and clutching his belly.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  He fingered the clean slice in his clothes, revealing the black second skin underneath. “I can’t believe my guts are still in me.”

  “Me either,” she said, scooting closer. “You almost lost your head too, you know.” She winced and glanced at her throbbing hand. Her pinky finger was out of joint. Her stomach turned sick.

  “That looks nasty,” Smoke said. “Let me take a look.”

  “No.”

  He made his way toward her and said it again. “Let me take a look.”

  Reluctantly, she showed her hand.

  “Ever dislocated it before?” he said.

  “No.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Hmm. I think you better let me fix it, Sid.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on. You can count on me. Just let me do it. You can’t let yourself be distracted by that aching pain.” He nudged her shoulder. “Come on. Time’s pressing.”

  She stretched her hand toward him, looked him right in the eye and said, “Do it.”

  Smoke took her hand gently in his palm, looked right back at her and said, “Easy peasy.”

  Pop.<
br />
  Pain lanced through her hand, back, legs, and shoulders. She winced and sucked through her teeth. Eyes watering, she said, “Thanks.”

  He stretched out his hand and took her other one in it. They pulled each other up together.

  He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I’m glad I didn’t lose my head.”

  “Oh,” she replied.

  “But it wouldn’t be so bad if you were the last thing I ever saw.”

  “I can’t believe you just fed me a line.”

  “I can’t believe you’re scared of rats.”

  She rose on her tiptoes, eyed the floor, and said, “If I see any more, you might have to carry me through here.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  CHAPTER 32

  They wandered: long tedious minutes avoiding the unnatural sounds that roamed the corridor.

  “This looks different,” Smoke said, scratching the dirt wall with his fingers. He eyed the ceiling. The beams were wooden instead of steel and iron, but the lights were still there.

  “Do you think they used to mine something down here?” she said, bending over and picking up a small chunk of coal. “Or is it just another hideout?”

  “It’s a catacomb. Not sure what else you’d call it. The pattern’s purpose is to confuse.” He led her up a gentle slope that opened up into an oversized alcove. There were tables and chairs, and the shelves were stocked with dry rotten rations of some sort. Decayed corpses and piles of bones lay dormant in the corner.

  Sidney ran her fingers over the table. Checked the grooves and markings. She had a knack for such things. Her parents had been avid antiquers. “This is early American,” she said, looking at an emblazoned rising sun carved in the backs of the chairs. “Probably worth a small fortune.”

  “Maybe we can get Mark Wahlberg and The Antiques Roadshow down here,” Smoke said, taking a knee alongside one of the corpses. “They might take a keen interest in these uniforms too. These are redcoats.”