“So are you taking us dead or alive?” asked Sidney, eyeing the barrel of an assault rifle.
It was a man holding it. She could see the whites of his eyes. He wore dark-gray tactical gear and had a black rising-sun tattoo on the back of his hand.
“Oh, well, the price is the same,” Reggie said. “But the Drake like to keep things entertaining.” He scanned the large room they were in. High ceilings. Old stone architecture blended with new painted drywall. The tiled floor was marked off for volleyball and basketball. A rim stood at either end. “This place should make for an interesting arena.”
“Beg pardon?” Sid replied. Her voice echoed a little.
More men funneled in, some of them holding video cameras. The deaders huddled up in tight formation in front of the only exits. There must have been twenty of them. Two other men rolled out some bleachers. The odd auditorium had enough room for a few hundred people. Extra incandescent lighting hung from the ceiling.
Arms folded over his chest, Reggie’s form started to change. The visage of Smoke was gone and replaced by a face far more vicious and sinister. With high cheekbones, a hawkish nose, and shoulder-length white hair, what Sid assumed was the real Reginald stood in front of them. He slipped a cigarette pack from his jacket and popped open the lid to a black-logoed Zippo. With a flick, he charged the lighter.
“There’s no smoking in here,” Smoke said to Reggie.
“Funny,” the doppelganger replied. Some of his men-at-arms took to the top of the bleachers and aimed their cameras down on the center court.
Sid felt the hollow feeling expand on her stomach. A memory flash occurred. She remembered what the rat-shifter, Swift Venison, had been going to do to her. The Drake wanted her death recorded. They wanted to see the whole thing. It was their sick brand of entertainment.
“For the record,” Smoke said, folding his feet under him and sitting cross-legged, “any unauthorized use of my image will be subject to the full prosecution of the law.”
Reggie laughed.
So did Sid.
“I’m sure you both have excellent lawyers,” said the doppelganger.
“He’s a fine notary too,” Smoke said, laughing.
“Oh, that’s good,” Reggie said, blowing out a puff. “The audience loves a sense of humor. You know, we have our own dark network at the Drake and lots of video of both of you in the most unlikely places. We call it Deathflix. As a matter of fact, part of your bounty is based on the viewers wanting to see the two of you in action. Some of it is just for study. That whole thing with the minotaur, Mason Crow, do you know we have most of that on film?”
“Film?” Sid laughed. “You didn’t use digital media? Doesn’t sound very efficient.”
Narrowing his eyes, Reginald glided over to the bleachers and climbed halfway up. He placed a hearing device in his ear and spoke into a device on his wrist. “How’s the view?” He nodded. “Excellent. I’ll send in the deaders first. Let the wagers begin.”
“So people are out there betting on us?” Sid said, shaking her head. “You’re a sick bunch.”
“No, not at all. We just like to have fun, at your expense. And it’s not just us, but your own representatives as well. You know, those helpful elitists who give gobs of money to charity.” Reggie rubbed his hands together. “They love a bloody fight as much as anybody.” He held his finger to his earpiece and spoke into his wrist. “Roger that.” He gave a quick nod to the men holding guns on Smoke and Sid.
The henchmen backed away.
Glancing over at Sid, Smoke said, “Time for round one, I guess. You ready?”
“No,” she said, putting her fist on the ground. “I’m angry.”
“Just so you don’t try anything too clever,” Reggie piped in, “remember we have guns on your friends over here. However, I feel generous. If even one of you survives this, I’ll let them all go. But if you don’t … well, what difference does it make anyway?”
“Why don’t you fight us?” Sid said. “After all, you were boasting about how you were the greatest shifter.”
“Oh, I’ll be hanging around, don’t you worry. But you’ll have to at least beat Rexor and Thorgrim before you ever get a crack at me.” He checked his wrist. “And right now, those odds are about one thousand to one.”
“I like those odds,” Smoke said. He shrugged at Sid. “It’s much better than flying through an asteroid field.”
“The audience is getting antsy,” Reggie said. He pointed to a row of undead men sitting on the first row of bleachers. “Deaders! Kill!”
Smoke and Sidney
CHAPTER 35
Slack jawed, slow and steady they came, one heavy metal pipe in each deader’s hands.
Sid and Smoke rose to meet the deaders head on.
She swayed a little.
Smoke stepped between her and the threat. The back of his head was still caked with wet blood. “I’ll handle this.”
Moving at a stiff fast walk, the first deader came in hard and fast. It brought the long rod of steel down with a fierce two-handed chop.
Smoke sidestepped the blow and kicked the deader hard in its side, knocking it off its feet. Still moving, Smoke closed in on the second deader and in one smooth move, he twisted the pipe free from its swinging arms. A split second later, the pipe Smoke had stolen collided with hard bone, making a sickening smack.
The deader teetered over, holding a hand on its temple.
Smoke didn’t slow.
The first deader started to rise from the marked-up tile floor.
Smoke busted its knee. Whack! Its chin. Whack! He hit it in the head so hard its skull cracked. Whack!
The pipe fell from its fingers when the final blow collided with its temple. Whack!
Both of the deaders lay on the floor, not dead but twitching oddly. They fought to get up, only to fall back down.
Smoke hit the second one, which had almost managed to make it to its feet, in the temple again.
It flopped to the floor.
He tossed the pipe he had to Sidney. “Aim for the temple. It won’t kill them, but it screws them up really good.” He picked up the other pipe. “Got it?”
Sid clutched the cold steel in a tight grip. “I’ve got it alright.”
“Well, the odds were only two to one, in your favor,” Reginald said. He sucked on his cigarette. “The next round is three-to-one odds. Against you.” He turned and spoke to his men. “Send in four deaders. The fast ones. Edged weapons.”
Four more men in tactical gear popped up. Their faces were taut, eyes dark. They reminded Sid of the cops who’d invaded her apartment. Two of them had axes like firemen carry, and the other pair wielded big machetes. The tallest was bigger than Smoke, and the smallest was shorter than her. They all had stringy, dry hair, sneers, and crooked smiles. A flash of evil marked all of them.
“It’s a good thing you have those German-engineered suits on,” Reginald said. “They’ll slow down the process of them carving you to pieces.”
Sid swallowed. Wary eyed, she watched the deaders close in.
Their blades whisked from side to side, cutting the tension in the air.
Aim for the temple. Aim for the temple.
The smallest deader waggled his machete, eyeing her with fierce intent. He flicked his tongue in and out as he said, “I’m going to cut that hair. I’m gonna cut that pretty, pretty hair.” The little man snaked in.
Smoke busted that deader’s teeth out.
That was the last thing Sid caught out of the corner of her eye. Right in front of her, she saw a hefty man with a deadly axe swinging her way. She ducked beneath the blow and cracked him in the knee.
He rumbled with slobbering laughter and brought the axe down with a hard chop.
Sid skipped away.
The axe chipped the tiles on the floor.
She had a clean shot on his temple and put all of her weight behind the swing. The steel pipe hit hard.
The deader dropped even harder.
Smoke delivered a lethal blow to another deader’s head.
Two others were already on the floor. All four were down now.
Chest heaving, Sidney gasped for her breath. “You could have saved at least one more for me.”
Smoke gave her a funny look and said under his breath, “You’re wheezing.”
“I ain’t got time to wheeze.”
“Two. Four. Hmmm.” Reginald lit up another cigarette. “I guess eight will be next. Oh, and now, the odds are heavy against you. But one man from China is still betting on you. Odds of your survival are twenty to one.”
“That’s better than I thought,” Smoke said. He picked up the axes. “Come on,” he said to Sid.
They backed toward one of the corners of the room, on the opposite side from the giants. The huge men stood quietly with their arms folded over their weapons. A dangerous look was glimmering in their eyes.
“Send in the next eight!”
Smoke lifted two axes high over his head. “Eight would be great! Why not ten!”
“Are you crazy?” Sid said, wheezing. There was a wild look in Smoke’s eyes. A savage fury that had come to the surface. It stirred her blood.
The deaders came at them in a dangerous and shambling mob. Crossing the small expanse, they hemmed Smoke and Sid in without hesitation and attacked.
Smoke’s axes sang a riddle of hard steel.
Two deaders’ faces collapsed under their unrelenting weight.
Sid went for the temple on the nearest. Her steel club glanced off the fiendish man’s arm and skipped off its head.
Something sliced into her arm.
“Ugh!” She held onto her pipe, unleashed a hard swing, and connected with bone. She swung again.
The enemy cut and stabbed.
So far, the sweetheart suit had kept her from being cut to pieces, but the blows of the deaders were heavy—not accurate, but heavy. Her lungs burned. Blood dripped into her eyes from a small cut on her forehead. She kept swinging and swinging and swinging until she felt she couldn’t swing anymore. “Smoke,” she wheezed.
Deaders were piled up at his feet. His axe strokes were like lightning from the sky.
One deader somehow still fought him without a head.
And then Sid heard Reginald scream, “Send in the rest!”
There were more deaders and men than she could count, and she didn’t have anything left.
Smoke dropped to a knee. Covered in gore and sweat, he said to her, “Got any plans for Saturday?”
CHAPTER 36
It was a sea of monsters. A rising tide.
Sid stumbled to Smoke’s side, fighting for her breath, and they faced the oncoming horde together. She lifted the rod in her hands and shifted her feet. “We gonna make it?” she said.
“Not sure,” Smoke replied. “We just have to keep hitting and hope the bodies keep falling. Stay close.” He stepped over and drove the axe’s back spike into the nearest monster’s head.
Sid summoned all of her reserves.
Ignore it. They’re just lungs. Who needs them?
The deaders didn’t. They were tireless automatons. Dangerous. Unrelenting.
Sid caught a devastating chop with her pole. It jarred her arm. Clacked her teeth. It ignited the survival instinct in her. She felt no pain. Avoided some stinging blows, fought through the others. She was a little faster than her assailants. Smarter. She unleashed wild and clumsy blows. Some connected. Others did little to slow the deaders.
“Just keep swinging,” Smoke roared.
She couldn’t see him. She could feel him. Her shadow. Protector. It inspired her.
Clack!
Something hard glanced off the back of her head. She fell into a pile of bodies.
Hands from disabled deaders clutched at her wrists and hair, pinning her down, where more deaders closed in for the kill.
Chest burning, barely breathing, she glared at them. “Screw you dirty deaders!”
One with a busted eye socket let out an ugly laugh. It raised the axe over its head with two hands. “Good-bye.”
Sid’s heart quickened. Her eyes popped wide. Her lungs filled with air. Lightning raced through her veins.
Yes!
Mal’s super vitamin had finally kicked in.
She sat up. “Hell yes!”
The deader’s axe came down.
Swish!
Sid laughed. Popping up right in front of it, she smashed in the temple of its head.
Now I’m cookin’.
She unleashed all of her outrage. Her hatred. She waded into the deaders. Piece by piece, skull by skull, she felled one right after the other. She was Neo. She was Electra. She was worse. She was a pissed-off Sidney Shaw.
Crack! Crack! Pop! Pop! Whack! Bang! Smack! Smack! Smack!
Limbs were broken. Skulls were smashed. The floor was slick with greasy blood.
Sid danced to her own deadly song. She weaved between attacks. Executed flawless counters. It was fun. Exhilarating.
“Feeling better, I see,” Smoke said, sliding alongside her.
She dropped another deader. “Yep. And how about you?”
“Never deader. Er, I mean better.”
Only four deaders remained. Standing firm, they crowded in.
Sid and Smoke turned them into dog food and strode out in the center of the room. Not even winded, she looked over at Reginald.
His ageless face was creased.
She yelled over to him, “What are the odds now, jackass?”
Reginald opened up his clenched jaws. “Rexor. Thorgrim. Kill them both!”
Something about the way the giants moved tempered Sid’s electrified nerves. They were fluid. Carnal. Savage. Primordial. It was all bundled up in their soft brown jumpsuits ready to be unleashed.
Smoke cracked his neck from side to side. “Which one of you wants to die first?”
Sid looked over at him. “Did you just quote a line from Conan the Barbarian?”
“It seemed fitting.” Chin up, Smoke took center stage.
Rexor stepped forward with his oversized four-bladed axe. The massive man, standing over eight feet tall, was built like a train station. With his oversized paw of a hand, he beckoned for both Smoke and Sid. “Come,” he said in a cavernous voice, “taste the steel in my hands.”
Smoke and Sid charged.
The giant’s devastating axe was swift, but not swift enough. It cut over their ducking heads.
Smoke chopped the axe into its thigh.
Sid cracked it in the nose with her pipe.
“Fleas!” the giant said. “You cannot hurt me.” Rexor pressed the attack. His axe blades fell with speed and precision.
Morning Glory, he’s fast!
She busted him behind the knee. Cracked a kneecap. Smacked his jaw.
Smoke attacked him like a lumberjack hewing down a tree, heavy chop after heavy chop.
Rexor swatted. Jabbed. Chopped. His strikes were getting closer and closer. “See, you cannot hurt me. My bones are iron. My skin is steel. Haaruagh!” With a flick of his wrist, he made an incredible back swing.
The flat of the blade smacked hard into Sid and sent her flying from her feet. Bones aching, she struggled to rise.
“Sid, watch out!” Smoke yelled.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The other giant, Thorgrim, brought his hammer down.
She sprang back like a cat.
The great hammer busted up the tiles between her legs.
“How are we supposed to kill these things?”
“Try kindness,” said Smoke.
“What!”
Thorgrim’s hammer came down again and again.
She ducked and dived. Evading his blows wasn’t the problem, not being able to hurt him was. And the clock was ticking inside her brain. The super vitamin wouldn’t last forever.
“Aaargh!” the giant man Rexor bellowed. He staggered back, covering his eye.<
br />
“Aim for the softest spot you can find,” Smoke said, pressing his attack.
Sid drifted back toward the heap of fallen deaders. She needed a better weapon. She needed an edge.
Thorgrim, hammer high over his head, closed in on her.
She slung her pipe at his face.
He deflected it with his elbow and laughed.
Sid snatched a machete off the floor. She was fast, but the giant’s strength and size negated some of that. It didn’t help her much if she couldn’t hurt him.
Got to find a weakness. Everything has a weakness.
She leaped away from a powerful downward attack.
Thorgrim’s hammer made a sickening smack into a deader. Bone crunched. Guts squished out.
That was nasty!
As the giant brought the hammer back up, Sid poked the machete at the giant’s eye, clipping the skin just below it.
Thorgrim jerked back and kicked her feet from beneath her.
She flipped head over heels and cracked her head hard on the tiles, pulling up onto her elbows just in time to see the massive hammer closing in on her eyes.
CHAPTER 37
Sid squirted away. The hammer fell again and again. Closer and closer. She rolled away.
Crap! Is he getting faster, or am I getting slower?
In a sudden move, she leapt down between Thorgrim’s legs and slid through. Using both hands, she swung the axe into the back of the giant’s heel with all her might.
“Rargh!” Thorgrim hopped up on one foot, spun around in a half circle, and took an off-balance swing.
Sid jumped back up to her feet and skipped away.
The giant hunkered down, hammer ready, eyes wary. Blood seeped from his ankle.
Yes! I found his weakness!
“Smoke! Go for the Achilles.”
Smoke fought Rexor with the grace and power of a striking panther. He chopped into the monster man with precise blows.
Rexor’s chops were devastating and angry. The massive four-headed blade was an arc of death, striking just an inch from the evading Smoke.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 1 thru 5 (Smoke Special Edition) Page 66