Counting the seconds until impact, I quickly activate my mic and whisper to Ren, "I'm going to need a new bike." As the meters between us shrink to feet, I can see the faces of the men through the windshields and I almost feel sorry for them. They have no idea what is coming for them tonight.
Moments before I impact the front of the SUV and get trampled like a lost lion cub under a stampede of wild wildebeests, I push myself up and stand on the bike's seat and then leap straight up so that my momentum will carry me over the impending collision. The look of surprise on the men's faces as I float away from their attempt at destroying me is nearly as rewarding as what comes next.
Pulling on the Dark Hunger and slowing time on my ascent, I grab the two ends of the chain and throw them in opposing directions. My left hand sends the chain downward into the front wheel of the bike causing it to lock up and flip over the hood of the SUV. Instead of getting crushed beneath the behemoth's rugged tires, my precious Zero becomes an eco-friendly, battery-powered missile that shatters the front window and then continues on a tumbling path through the front seat of the vehicle and on into the rear section and beyond my line of sight.
My right hand whips the heavy weight of the chain towards the sidewalk and an adjacent streetlamp I had noticed earlier. The chain sails past the heavy, steel cylinder of the light pole before momentum and the tug of the now retreating bike causes it to snap taut and whip around the heavy metal pole entangling itself like Indiana Jones attempting to swing across a spike-covered pit.
In a vain attempt to watch my own handiwork, I turn my arc into a flip so that I can peek at the destruction I have wrought behind me. As soon as the chain snags tight onto the pole, it pulls the bike towards it, but the Zero is lodged into the backseat of the SUV. The tension from the chain pulls on the motorcycle and the force of that pressure swerves the SUV directly into the other lead vehicle. The strain exerted on the poor chain and light pole cause both to snap and break releasing their hold on the car and letting it tumble sideways down the street. But it has already served its purpose as I watch the second car attempt to overcorrect after being hit by the chain, the light pole and the smashed SUV before giving in to inertia and flipping on to its side and rolling into one of the nearby buildings.
I doubt everyone in both cars is dead or permanently incapacitated, but they should hopefully be out of the fight for the next several minutes. Not a perfect solution, but one I am willing to accept right now.
The two trailing cars apply their brakes as the carnage in front of them escalates, but I have no intention of letting them escape this evening without involvement. It's just a matter of how best to inflict as much pain and damage on them as possible before moving on.
Completing my arcing flip through the air, I come down hard on the hood of the massive vehicle that had been trailing the one I punched a motorcycle through. Using my flight's momentum to power me, I punch both fists through the vehicle's windshield – temporarily encasing my arms in safety-glass encrusted sleeves. Grabbing the steering wheel from the startled driver, I yank it as hard as I can towards the smaller SUV mirroring its path on my right. The monster of a vehicle that I'm riding on crunches into its neighbor and pushes it off to the side and into the path of the rolling tornado of debris I had just created moments before. With nowhere to go and knowing that its fate is set, I crank the steering wheel hard in the opposite direction before the men sitting and facing me can recover from what they're seeing.
The steel monster I’m riding sways uncertainly on the road with the sudden change in direction, and I decide to add to the fun by pulling upwards on the wheel and twisting as hard as I can. With an audible stang! the wheel releases from the steering column and pops free, but not before the airbag that had been embedded inside of it fires with enough force to rip the wheel back out of my hands.
Unfortunately for the driver, my motion had brought the steering wheel closer to his face before it released, and the impact it made with the soft flesh of his face is not pretty.
With the means of controlling the vehicle removed (both the wheel and driver who might have been able to attempt a recovery), I roll off to the side of the vehicle to let it pass by me and down the street towards the approaching cars coming from the other direction.
Quickly getting back to my feet, I look up in time to see the SUV I had just leapt off of broadside a bright red luxury car on the far side of the street that had moments earlier been intent on running me down. The remaining four cars near it quickly pull over to the curbs and begin disgorging men faster than a compact car can spit out clowns at a circus. There is no way that many people should be able to fit into that number of cars. It boggles the mind.
Glancing around at the three overturned and smoking wrecks around me, I discern that the battle to be had is down by them and no longer over here. Of the nine vehicles they sent to intercept me, five of them have already been disabled and their passengers either killed or distracted. I like that start, but that's all it is: a start.
Right now, I'm a lone girl standing in the middle of an empty street with a little more than twenty men all pointing guns in my direction. This doesn't look good for me, so I guess it's a good thing I don't care about looks any more.
From a distance their guns are going to give them the advantage. And that means I need to take that advantage away as quickly as possible and get closer to them. Much closer.
And I think this is the night that I finally turn those horrible little weapons of theirs into an advantage for me. It's going to be a night they won't soon forget.
Well. Those who survive it at least.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Inhaling clean air through the helmet’s filter, I'm happy that I never took the time to remove my head protection before I began this battle. I know I'll have to lose it eventually once I decide to stop fighting the Dark Hunger's pull, but for now I can enjoy the delicious, filtered air it gives me instead of the rank, smoke-infused nastiness that is beginning to swirl around me. Plus, the helmet's darkened eyeshield might serve to be a bit more intimidating than the grinning face of a sixteen year-old Hispanic girl. I've seen enough movies to know that a faceless foe can be unsettling. Let's hope that remains true tonight.
Noticing the men down the street getting into firing positions behind their cars wrenches my attention away from the daydream I had been giving in to, and refocuses me on the matter at hand: bettering the twenty-five-to-one odds I'm currently facing.
Knowing I only have a few more good pulls on my energy before I have to break down and sacrifice an opponent as a snack, I choose my next actions carefully. I need to get to them as quickly as possible without them shooting me down, and there is only one logical way for me to make that happen.
Dropping into a sprinter's stance, I pull on the Darkness and embrace its violent caress as the blood pumps through my veins. The cold burn as it floods my system is euphoric, and the sudden loss of all sound and wind in the immediate area lets me know that I am now traveling faster than anything around me. Releasing myself from the stance and tearing forward as fast as I can, I watch as the world comes to a standstill. It doesn't matter how many times I use my adrenaline to move this fast, it amazes me every time.
As I sprint down the stretch of road towards my awaiting foes, I watch as one gun after another blooms its orange blossom of death and spits out a leaden seed towards where I had been standing mere moments before. Running forward, I watch as the bullets move past me and listen as they chink into the pavement and chew up the ground that I so recently vacated. Even moving at my speed, the bullets are traveling fast enough to scare me. I can see them coming and dodge them, but it doesn't stop the experience from being frightening. Any one of these little, humming, metal bumblebees could tear a hole in me that an infusion of blood might not be able to fix in time. That's something I can’t forget.
Moving along the empty street towards the men, I notice a small chunk of pavement that got torn up when one of the SU
V's rolled over it, and I divert my course slightly so that my path will intersect it. Without breaking stride or momentum, I dive at the ripped up hole and scoop up several of the jagged chunks into my arms before curling into a ball and rolling for several feet. Springing up, I continue sprinting towards the men with my new-found treasures now cradled in my arms.
Looking for whichever men are least protected by the iron frames of the vehicles, I begin zinging the asphalt chunks at them while I run in an attempt to thin the numbers before my arrival. I manage to get off eight solid throws before I close the distance with the first man, and six of the chunks hit where I had intended. Five of the men I hit drop like boxers who have just taken an unexpected uppercut to the jaw, and the sixth man stumbles backward dropping his gun but managing to keep his feet under him.
Five and a half down. Nineteen more to go.
The man closest to me has made the mistake of using his car's open door to protect himself, and I use that to my advantage. Leaping through the air as I approach, I smash against the car door with my feet and ride it as it swings closed crushing the man against the car's frame. Grabbing the gun he had been holding as his fingers release it, I carry it with me as I push off the car door and over the open space in the road separating his car from the next closest.
Seven down.
The guy I aim for isn't behind a car door; he’s just standing against the dark blue sedan's passenger side with his weapon still aimed down the street where I had been standing originally. Using my helmeted head as a battering ram I smash the bridge of his nose with the hard plastic encasing my cranium as I crash against his body. He slides down the side of the car without a word, and I relieve him of his rifle before he hits the ground.
Eight are now removed from the battle. Seventeen remain standing and needing my attention.
With a rifle clutched in each hand, I step out into the clearing between the four vehicles and begin firing. Doing my best to use controlled bursts so that the rifles don't jump too much and ruin my aim, I methodically move from one man to the next firing rounds into each thug's legs and feet (It appears most are wearing armored vests so body shots would be useless, plus if I can avoid killing them, I will.). Using the last of my energy to keep time to a trickle and improve my aim, I manage to drop six men before they even realize they are being fired upon.
Fourteen down. Eleven more to go.
The Hunger isn't happy with me as I continue to push myself without giving it any more sustenance. I know I can't keep up this pace indefinitely, but I can at least get through a few more before relinquishing control.
The men around me are screaming and moaning and blood is everywhere on the street and on the cars and all over the front of my clothes. It looks like the bloodbath they had intended to create, but not with the victim they had anticipated. And if it wasn't for my helmet blocking out the delicious scent of blood all around me, then there'd be no way I'd be able to quell the Hunger's control. With the helmet's filters in place, I can see the enticing red liquid around me, but I'm able to ignore its pull for just a bit longer.
Stepping over to one of the downed men's bodies, I tug his rifle free of his grip and check to make sure that it still has a relatively full clip. It does. Ignoring the ache in my gut as best I can, I jump up onto the nearest car to improve my line of sight and begin systematically hunting the remaining men around me. Even without the Hunger's adrenaline push, I am faster and a better shot than them. And I'm angry. And anger is a much better motivator than simple greed. Or whatever other twisted vice is powering them.
Two men pop up from behind a car on the far side of the street and try to outgun me. I can't see their legs for a clear shot, so I go for their chest and hope they're wearing strong enough vests. I drop both of them before they even get their guns clear of the car's trunk. One whumps backwards flailing his arms and screaming, and the other's chest explodes in a spray of blood that surprises me. I guess only one was wearing a vest. The severity of what I've just done tries to creep up on me, but I shake it away before it can grab hold. I did what was necessary. It wasn't my fault.
Sixteen men have gone down. Only nine left.
Three more men attempt to surprise me by coming out from behind hiding places and firing at me. Only one of them actually manages to get shots off, and they all go wide. I drop the first two with shots to their knees and the third takes a short burst of rounds to his right arm which gets chewed up like it went through a woodchipper. Hopefully it isn't enough to kill him, but I doubt he'll ever hold a fork with that hand again.
Nineteen down, and only six more to find.
The Hunger is tearing at my guts in frustration now, but I don't want to give in until I've found the last guy. If I stop to feed and one of them walks up and puts a bullet in my brain, then I'll never be able to get to Leyna and help her. The Hunger will just have to wait. Unfortunately, it isn't really something I can negotiate with.
Turning away from my latest victim, I see another guy trying to crawl into an alley between two buildings, and I raise my gun to take him down. As I do, my pocket begins to click repeatedly startling me and throwing off my aim. The gun’s blasts go wide and chew up the wall next to the man's head. He yelps loudly and ducks and rolls into the alley and out of my line of site.
Damn it, Ren! I curse silently to myself. You have the worst timing. He'll just have to wait for now. I only need a few more moments to finish this, and then we can chat.
"In a moment, Ren," I tell him in a strained voice as I fight the Hunger's pull. "Almost done."
I didn't see a gun on the alley guy, so I'm hoping he was just making a run for home and I can count him out of the battle. That leaves me only five more.
The street isn't big enough for them to have gone far, so I turn slowly in a circle looking for where they might have squirreled themselves away. As I spin, my pocket erupts into a flurry of clicks again drawing my attention to it.
Ren, I think. You're getting annoying right now. Looking down at my pocket and fighting through the haze that is beginning to fill my vision from the Hunger, I hear the whine of bullets puncture the air around me. Somebody has decided to take potshots at me while I'm distracted.
Turning to face the direction of where I can best guess the shots came from, I see two men peeking over the hood of one of the overturned SUV's with their rifles pointed at me. I don't know if these two are part of the final five I was searching for or two more players entering the game. It's getting hard to concentrate, and there's no easy way to tell one thug apart from the others.
The men fire again and their bullets tear the atmosphere around me making horrible little burning sounds as they pass by me faster than the speed of sound. They haven't hit me yet, but I think it is more their lack of skill rather than my abundance of it. I've been lucky so far, but they won't keep missing for long.
Bringing my rifle up, I notice that I don't have a clear shot at their legs at all. Or their bodies. All I can see of them is their black rifles and their faces scowling at me through the shimmering hot air over the black dented frame of the overturned vehicle. I have no way to wound these men and let them live.
Sensing another barrage of bullets coming, the Hunger's haze prevents me from overthinking the situation, and I quickly aim and pull the trigger. Two bursts from my rifle and both men drop in a stereo explosion of fine red mist. The dull ache of the Hunger deadens the blow of what I've just done and soothes me.
It was necessary, it tells me. You've done nothing wrong.
I know I can't trust what it's telling me, but the words feel so comforting. So right. Death is not my enemy here. It is my ally.
My pocket buzzes again, and I break free of my reverie. The Darkness eases back in my mind, but only by inches.
Flipping on my phone's speaker, I yell, "What is it Ren? What can't wait until I'm done here?"
"It's Chadwick, Cat," he rasps at me like he's the one that's been fighting off the Darkness for the last several minutes.
"It's him."
Confused by his sudden mention of the man I had sworn to forget and move on from, I ask, "What's him, Ren? What about him?"
"Cat," he says my name and it comes out as almost a whimper. "That's who Leyna is going to see. The guy she's been talking to is Chadwick Morrin."
CHAPTER FORTY
It turns out knowing how to drive and actually being able to drive are two different things all together. With my beloved Zero a twisted, ruined hunk of metal impregnated into the back of a burning and overturned cartel-owned SUV, I am forced to find another way to travel to get to Ren as quickly as possible. Being on the other side of the city and suffering from the shakes due to the Hunger's impending coup over my facilities means running is out of the question. That leaves carjacking one of the vehicles they had brought to participate in my destruction (Although is it 'carjacking' if I didn't have to actually pull anyone out of it? They had already willingly left the car. I just had to jump in and floor the accelerator. Plus, I have no desire to keep it. Let's settle for 'aggressive borrowing' instead.).
I've been driving the Zero for months now, but I've never been behind the wheel of a car. I figure the theory for both is the same, and I have played video games. How hard can it be?
Turns out the answer is “plenty challenging”. With the Zero, I've gotten used to accelerating with my hands and shifting with my toes. With this super-tuned American muscle car that they brought, that background isn't helping me. Using my feet to accelerate and brake instead of my hand grips takes getting used to, plus every tap of the gas pedal causes the two-ton behemoth to growl and lurch like it wants to angrily consume the asphalt. This beast wants to go fast, and it seems mad at for me not giving it what it wants.
And I would give in to the mechanical beast's pull except for the fact that the Dark Hunger still keeps tugging at me. Little black spots keep dancing into my vision as my gut clenches and flexes in an attempt to get at the rich, red fluid it so desperately needs. I've put it off too long. I negotiated for more time thinking I just needed to make it until I had disposed of the cartel goons, but I was wrong. I need to make it to Leyna, now. But I have nothing left to offer the Hunger, and it senses my dearth of offerings. I'm running out of time.
Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst Page 20