by Rach Elle
The night air was suddenly loud and violent as the doors whipped open and the truck continued to speed down the deserted road. Sunders looked out through the opening in the back of the truck to see a high speed pursuit on behalf of a black Mercedes. He couldn’t see who was in the driver’s seat but he had a feeling they were only the welcoming committee; the real arsenal was on their way. He turned to Wade, “Last chance!” He yelled over the boisterous wind, “Let us go and they’ll let you live!”
Wade looked worried, as if he knew Harper was right. There was a chance he wouldn’t survive this encounter. His eyes hardened as he looked at the Scottish Finder, “Not before I settle the score,” he sneered.
Sunders’ eyes widened as Wade stood up, maintaining perfect balance even on this rocky terrain. The Protector lifted his gun and pointed it directly at Sunders’ chest. His finger slowly tightened around the trigger.
“No!” Bill cried as he lurched forward and shoved Wade; forcing his aim to swerve to the side just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet exploded from the barrel and embedded itself into the stomach of Bawli.
Sunders gasped as the gargoyle roared in pain and blood began to seep out of his wound at an alarming rate. With his hands still tied he dropped to his knees and pressed his palms against the bullet hole, applying pressure and trying to stop the bleeding.
The second Protector, Ramon, jumped into action, pulling Bill off of Wade and dragging him toward the open end of the truck. Bill fought back and the two of them struggled, stumbling with every pothole that rocked the cabin.
Rue could feel the wind plastering against her black, leather jumpsuit as she sped alongside the armored truck on her motorcycle. She had tailed Sunders all the way here and when she saw the abduction she almost jumped into action right then and there; until the truck headed into a dark tunnel without its lights on. It was then she knew they were going for a decoy; the oldest trick in the book. Now she whipped through the night air, dodging the bullets the passenger of the truck kept shooting her way.
Rue reached out to the side and latched onto the handle of the passenger door. She stood up, unsteady as her motorcycle continued to race. She looked ahead to see a massive pothole directly in her path. It was now or never; she took a deep breath and jumped off her bike, using her upper body strength to pull her against the truck and planting her feet firmly on the steel frame. The front wheel of her bike hit the hole and jarred to the left, forcing the machine to crash and burn into the pavement and the Mercedes that followed behind to swerve off of the road and into a ditch.
Rue used all of her strength to whip open the passenger door. The Protector lurched toward her just as her punch landed square on his jaw. He jolted backward, allowing her the opportunity to raise her gun and shoot him in the shoulder. The Protector howled in pain as she grabbed onto the nape of his neck and tried to pull him out of the truck.
The driver pulled out his own pistol and aimed it at the black, tinted helmet of the mysterious motorcyclist. He pulled the trigger just as she ducked and pushed his partner in the way. The bullet lodged itself into the back of the man’s head, killing him instantly.
Before the driver could register what he had just done, the biker lifted her gun and shot him between the eyes. His body collapsed as his foot’s deadweight fell onto the gas pedal.
Rue pulled the passenger out of the truck, allowing his limp body to fall to the pavement below as she climbed inside. She tried to move the driver’s dead body but he was too heavy. Instead she reached across and opened his door. She repositioned herself and pressed her feet firmly against the driver’s torso. Using the strength of her legs she pushed as hard as she could until the massive Protector’s body fell out of the truck. She hopped into his seat and prepared to ease up on the brakes when she realized they were coming up on a sharp turn. There wasn’t any way they were going to make the turn at their speed. She slammed on the brakes and crimped the wheel as tightly as she could; forcing the truck to lift onto it’s left side wheels and ultimately tip over.
The sudden force of the truck careening into the ground sent Bill and the Protector flying out of the back in opposite directions.
Bill landed in a grassy ditch and laid there for only a moment before gathering his wits and scrambling to his feet. Without looking back, he ran away; fearing for his life.
The steel frame of the truck screeched and sparked as it skidded across the pavement until finally slowing to a stop.
“Junior; behind you!” Cooper cried.
Junior turned around just in time to see a Protector lunging at him with a knife. He dodged the blade and elbowed the Protector in the face before claiming the knife as his own.
The three gargoyles and Tauggle were in the heat of a battle against seven – no – eight Protectors; all led by a blonde Irishmen Junior recognized from the park ambush a couple of weeks ago. Their guns and various other weapons might have been too much for the three shifters to handle, but they had one very important weapon on their side; Tauggle. The Limrid danced around the Protectors; disappearing and reappearing only to disappear again as if he thought it was all a fun game. He had the organized S.W.A.T. team falling apart; leaving the gargoyles with the task of merely picking up the pieces.
“Cooper,” Junior called over all the action. “I think we’ve got it under control here; go help Bawli!”
“On it,” Cooper answered as she climbed the mouth of the tunnel, spread her wings and took flight.
Rue’s eyes flitted open as she came to in the tipped over cab of an armored truck. The night was dark but it was even darker behind her tinted motorcycle helmet. She groaned at her aching body as she began to climb upward toward the driver’s side window. She reached the top and strained her arm muscles to pull herself out of the cab.
Rue was suddenly jarred as a combat boot kicked her in the head. She fell to the side just as the steel toe jabbed again into her ribs with enough force to knock her off of the truck. She landed with a dull thud and winced in pain. She tried to get back to her feet but her legs were too weak to steady herself. She stumbled backward as Ramon moved toward her. She turned around to run away but he closed the gap between them too quickly. He shoved her into the side of the truck. As she ricocheted off of the vehicle he punched her in the ribs and kicked her again in the chin.
Rue fell backward and landed painfully on the pavement. She was thankful for her helmet; she had a feeling without it she wouldn’t even conscious right now.
The Protector looked almost bored with her; as if she wasn’t putting up enough of a fight. She started to crawl away. She crawled around the corner of the truck, suddenly able to see inside the back. Her heart ached at the image of Sunders frantically trying to tend to a bleeding, tied up gargoyle. The Scotsman looked up at her; his brows furrowing in shock and confusion.
In an instant Sunders’ expression changed, “Look out!”
Rue heeded the Finder’s words and rolled to the side just in time to dodge a steel exhaust pipe. Ramon instead thrust it into the ground, giving Rue enough time to adjust her position and kick him in the face. The man reeled back as she tried to get back to her feet. He came at her again; she kicked him again. Finally she stood upright just as he attacked. But this time she was ready.
Sunders watched in disbelief as a mysterious biker squared off with a Protector. He couldn’t be entirely sure who she was, but he had a pretty good idea. Her body was covered in a black, leather jumpsuit that hugged every curve. He couldn’t see her face behind the helmet, but he didn’t need to see her eyes for familiarity. Rue? He wondered as she fought a man twice her size. Her punches were quick and she knew where his weak spots were. She knew how to incapacitate him like some sort of ninja.
Sunders looked back down at Bawli. The gargoyle looked to be in terrible shape. He was still bleeding, no matter how much pressure Sunders applied. His color was fading and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Just hold on,” Sunders whispered to him. He needed to slow
the bleeding just long enough for the other gargoyles to get here; preferably the Limrid. Tauggle could poof Bawli over to Marvin and they could all have a happy ending just like they did with Zeff. Sunders lifted his head toward the sky, closed his eyes and prayed.
Bawli coughed, bringing Sunders’ attention back to him. The Scotsman’s eyes widened at the sight of blood all over the gargoyle’s lips. His panic spiked as he frantically looked around, wishing there was something more he could do.
A small movement outside caught Sunders’ eye.
The mysterious biker had the upper hand against Ramon, but off in the distance, unbeknownst to her, Wade slowly stalked her. Sunders wasn’t sure how Wade had gotten all the way out there.
Before he could warn the biker, Wade called to her. She turned just as he threw a knife. It spun in tight circles through the air until impaling the tinted glass of the biker’s helmet. The blade crashed and wedged itself into the glass, sending cracks splintering in all directions as the biker fell limply to the ground.
Wade looked at Ramon, “Help the others.” He ordered. The Protector got to his feet and took off running toward the tunnel; passing a couple of guys along the way.
Alvin and Mason climbed out of the ditch they had driven the Mercedes into just in time to see a Protector running away from the crash. Another Protector with a broken arm was staring into the back of the truck, breathing heavily with a gun in his hand.
Sunders wanted to throw up as he looked at the biker lying lifelessly on the ground. His eyes drifted upward to see Wade slowly walking toward the truck. He stepped over the girl’s body as if she was nothing more than a fallen tree branch and lifted his gun. Sunders recoiled, fear spiking and adrenaline pumping. He watched as Wade’s expression contorted into a twisted, maniacal stare as he pointed the gun directly at him. Sunders had nowhere to go. He was trapped. He couldn’t even blink, let alone recognize the movement behind the Protector.
Wade began to tighten his finger around the trigger just as the mysterious biker stood, clasped onto the sides of his head and yanked it to the right; breaking his neck with a sickening crack. She let go and Wade’s body dropped to her feet.
Rue stood over Wade’s dead body, searching for some feeling of remorse. But she had none. To be fair, the man had just tried to kill her with a knife to the face. But if she was honest, she hadn’t felt remorse for her killings in quite some time. She didn’t consider herself to be a murderer. But she couldn’t deny the fact that she had murdered.
Rue lifted her chin and stared straight ahead at Sunders Harper. She wasn’t sure if he knew who she was, and she didn’t really feel like asking. The knife Wade had thrown at her embedded so far into the glass of her helmet that the blade had impaled her just beneath the left eye. It hurt; but not as much as pulling it out of her face did. Now she stared through the broken glass; a hole in front of her left eye and cracks skewing the vision in her right. The taste of blood reached her lips. Yep; she was definitely bleeding.
She turned to leave when Sunders called to her, “Wait!” She stopped and looked back at him. He stood up with his hands, covered in the gargoyle’s blood, tied at the wrists with rope. Not wanting to prolong this interaction, she bent down and picked up the blade she had just torn from her skin. She tossed it into the truck with just enough force for it to slide to a stop at Sunders’ feet. Then she took off running.
Rue reached her bike and propped it up on its two wheels. Thankfully it wasn’t mangled beyond use. She threw her leg over the side and revved the engine before driving off into the night.
Sunders grabbed the knife and quickly got to work cutting through the rope that held his wrists together. It was an awkward position, but he managed to get himself free in a matter of seconds. Immediately he slid over to Bawli and began cutting through the cable. That took a bit more finesse but he was finally able to untie the gargoyle.
“Bawls!” Alvin’s voice called.
The boy rounded the corner and peered into the back of the truck. It took only a second for him to register the situation. “No!” he cried as he jumped into the truck and Mason quickly followed suit. Sunders backed away so the two of them could be with their friend. He jumped out of the truck and walked out of sight; staring into the shadows of the woods beyond and listening to his heart beating violently with pain, anger and prayer.
Junior and Zeff had corralled the last of the Protectors and shoved them into the back of the armored truck. They slammed the doors shut as Tauggle poofed a lock that could hold back a herd of elephants.
“What do we do with them now?” Zeff asked.
Junior shrugged, “We leave them. Someone will come for them eventually.”
“And on that note,” Tauggle smiled, “We should probably be leaving.”
The three of them took flight and headed back down the road, hoping to find the others safe, sound, and all in one piece.
Alvin sat on his knees, cradling Bawli’s head in his hand. His friend lay in the back of the truck; bleeding and breathing short, shallow breaths.
“You’re alright,” Alvin choked, “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Bawli’s eyes drifted upward to look at his young friend. His usually perfectly placed feathered brown hair was scattered and mussed. As he tried to cling to what life he had left he opened his mouth to speak. “My dream,” he managed to say between breaths.
“Don’t try to talk,” Alvin shook his head; tears threatening to sting his eyes.
“You need… to know.”
Alvin looked up at Mason, who sat on the other side of the large gargoyle, propping his shoulders upright against his own small body. He returned Alvin’s glance with horror in every meter of his expression and nodded once.
Alvin looked back down at his dying friend, “What is it?” He could barely speak.
“My dream,” Bawli tried to force words to reach past his lips, but he could barely form a single one. His mouth was too dry and his tongue was limp. He couldn’t annunciate, resulting in a string of incomprehensible language. But he tried anyway.
Alvin crinkled his forehead, “What?” He asked.
Bawli spoke again, “o-lun-eer.”
Alvin had to think for a moment, “Volunteer?”
Bawli nodded his head, pain shooting in every limb of his body. He opened his mouth again, “e-own.”
“Leon?”
“No,” Bawli choked, just before coughing up more blood. He knew he didn’t have much time left. He couldn’t die before relaying his dream. Whether or not they would regard it he didn’t know, and he knew he would never find out; but he at least had to try. He had to help his friends one last time. “Fine-er,” he said.
“Finder?”
Bawli nodded again.
“The Finder is a volunteer?”
“No,” he winced in pain.
“He wants to tell the Finder something,” Mason cut in.
The boys looked out through the back of the truck and into the night air, but the Finder was nowhere to be found. “Where the fuck is he?” Alvin cursed. He looked at Mason and then back to Bawli. “We’re not leaving you Bawls.” A sudden lump formed in his throat, nearly cutting off his air supply as he choked, “We won’t.”
Bawli looked up at his two friends. He had known them for most of their lives. For the longest time they were like sons to him, but as they grew older they became his brothers. They were truly his family; and they were going to stay with him until the end. His heart swelled as it beat vigorously in his chest.
“Who volunteers,” Mason asked soothingly as tears blurred his vision.
Bawli’s breaths were even more quick and shallow with each passing second; like a bomb ready to explode. “E,” he gasped for air, “O-len.”
Cooper landed in panic mode at the sight of the overturned truck, the Mercedes perched in a ditch and two dead Protectors on the side of the road. She ran toward the truck that lay on its side when Sunders Harper came into view. He appeared to have bee
n pacing back and forth; a look of complete and utter despair on his face.
“Where are they?” Cooper called to him
Sunders looked at her and without saying a word, glanced into the truck. Cooper’s adrenaline spiked as she rounded the corner and the gruesome image came into view.
Bawli was bleeding from the stomach as Alvin and Mason hovered over him; holding him. No; the word rang in her head as a breathy whisper. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to run into the truck and join the boys. She wanted to fall to her knees and cry and pray for all of this to go away. Instead she did the only thing she could bring herself to do; she screamed, “Tauggle!”
Tauggle was mid-flight, flanked by Junior and Zeff when a sudden pain struck his chest. Cooper’s words cried in his mind’s eye and without explaining to the shifters at his sides, he disappeared.
“E. Owen?” Alvin asked.
Bawli wanted to shake his head, but he was much too weak.
“I think he said E. Olden,” Mason said.
Bawli hoped they would relay the information to the Finder and he could make heads or tails of it. Because his window was closing; fast. Instead of trying to force another strand of intelligible slur, he looked up at his two boys and smiled. His quick, shallow breaths began to slow; more empty space lapsing between each sharp inhale until finally – they stopped.
“No,” Alvin breathed, “No!” He began shaking Bawli’s shoulders, trying to wake him as tears cascaded down his cheeks. But Bawli wouldn’t wake up. His friend was gone.
A small light began to radiate all over the shifter’s body. Slowly, and poetically, every piece of gargoyle began to disappear. His feet and legs morphed; his wings and tail disintegrated, and his big floppy ears shrunk to a normal size. The light dissipated and all that was left was lifeless; and human.