Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  Remembering the ugly brown magic amulet that had animated a statue in New York, she shouted, “Shoot the gem in the collar!”

  Two of the uniforms by her turned and fired at the creatures.

  “Stay down,” warned the sergeant. “We don’t have time for you.” He withdrew a handgun and aimed, his men falling into a tight formation around him.

  The bodies of the dinosaurs jerked as more bullets tore into their flesh, but the injuries seemed only to slow them.

  Before she could do more, the head of the monster on top of the Jeep exploded in fire and flying brains, then she heard a rifle bullet. The headless creature jumped from its post but landed feet away from anyone, where it rolled on the ground before careening upright and clawing the air.

  The remaining monsters on either side of the vehicle darted around the headless one to attack individuals. Another dinosaur dashed out from the trees and headed north.

  After forming back-to-back pairs, the Brazilian soldiers kept them off everyone in the small group.

  Zita started to get up and help, but the men focused on her waved their guns in her face in warning. As she fumed, she opened her phone and punched the call back button. She got up to a crouching position so she could spring out of the way. They’re not stopping the dinosaurs, but they’re at least keeping them from killing anyone.

  His gun in a tight grip, the sergeant shot the gem on the collar, and the headless one dropped.

  “Phone duty is so boring,” Trixie announced as she answered. “For a job that sounds so much like lazy, liaising is a lot of work and leaves so little chance to borrow a tank for a joy ride. On the bright side, my hat has fruit on it, so at least I can have a snack—”

  In English, Zita cut her off. “Whatever. Is Freelance on zombie dinosaur duty?”

  “Yes, but we’re not cleared to enter the base until the dinosaurs appear to be escaping, so we’re sidelined. Should be nine of the scaly lovelies running around unless they held some in reserve. Did your team have any luck with them?”

  Her brain whirled at the count and Zita recalled offhand comments back when they’d been with the mercenaries. “You guys killed the dinosaurs the first time, before we caught up with you. That’s why the passageway smelled like dead things and how you know how many, isn’t it? Tell Freelance to shoot the collars. They’ve got a brown gem under their chins like that statue that came to life in New York.”

  The continuing gunfire made her ears ring, and Zita could barely hear Trixie, even when she cupped her hand around the phone.

  “Hunting dinosaurs is not illegal,” Trixie said, her voice prissy. “Even if it were, how could we know they would return in a Night of the Living Dinodead?”

  Another volley obscured anything else she said.

  “What?” Zita yelled.

  “I don’t have the right costume for this conversation!” Trixie shouted back. The rest of her comments drowned beneath the gunfire.

  “I don’t care what you’re wearing!” Zita raised her voice. She made a small movement to get up. This time the soldiers were too busy focusing on the animals to notice.

  The closest soldier reloaded his weapon, and his gaze flickered to her, but his focus returned to the undead creatures.

  “Boss says get their…” Another barrage ate the rest of Trixie’s words.

  After wrapping both arms around her head to muffle the noise, Zita tried again. “What? Get their collars off?” I could do that, but it’d be a real challenge to avoid getting shot or ripped apart.

  Trixie shouted again. “Chins up! Get their chins up!” She hung up again.

  Swearing, Zita flipped her phone shut and got to her feet. “I’m told there are nine dinosaur zombies. That’s three. Where are the others? They’re on your base already, you need to put more people on the SNARC ball!”

  The guy holding a weapon on her growled, and she slowed her movements.

  Zita studied the sergeant, who was barking orders into his radio and had taken up a shooting position. “I’ll distract the dinosaurs before they get your men. You decide what that says about me.” While she spoke, she ran through forms in her head, settling on a gavião-real again and launched herself into the air. This should be both maneuverable and big enough to get attention from those things. If it doesn’t work, I’ll try a brown wooly monkey… in case they only respond to humanoid shapes… and use that pará tree to keep away from them.

  The soldier who had been guarding her took a potshot, but she banked in time to avoid it.

  Zita dove at the monsters, making as if she would strike them, then used the speed gained on the dive to swoop up before their teeth could catch her.

  Both of the remaining dinosaurs lifted their heads to snap at her.

  As a rifle shot sounded, the creature on the left stopped when its collar snapped. Before that corpse hit the ground, another round took out the other creature’s gem, and it fell.

  Zita landed on top of the stack of crates and changed back to Arca, Portuguese tumbling out of her mouth as fast as she could manage. “Metahumans are going after the SNARC ball. I’ve got a magic healer, two fighters and me here to help you, plus someone hired mercenaries to handle the undead dinosaurs. The giant bird your helicopters are wasting missiles on is on your side. They sent me down here to tell you we’re allies, so work with us here. You’ve stalled the invaders at the checkpoints, but they’re using powers to show up on your grounds and to let those things loose.” She had to shout to be audible over the now-constant sound of jet engines and helicopter propellers.

  The sergeant grumbled something into his radio. It squawked back.

  “This is above my pay grade, but I’ll take you to an officer to discuss it,” he said. “I’m sure you understand.”

  Once all the soldiers confirmed the creatures were dead by shooting them several more times, they turned, scanning the area for more enemies. To Zita’s dismay, most of the guns were now aimed at her.

  She gestured at her body and continued talking in Portuguese, her words tumbling out fast. “If you can’t tell, I’m unarmed. I don’t even have shoes on.” She raised a foot in the air and wiggled her toes at them.

  A few of the gun barrels lowered, but most stayed on her.

  The sergeant put the safety on his handgun but frowned at her. “Get down here if you want us to trust you.”

  Zita held up both hands. “All I ask is you at least take me to someone with brains enough to be sensible and power enough to keep my friends and I from getting hurt. I’ll have my flying friends land, if you can keep people from shooting them. Or me. I’m much more helpful alive.”

  He eyed her, then his eyes cut to the dead dinosaurs. “Empty your pockets,” he said.

  She blinked and tapped one pocket.

  “Slowly!”

  Moving her hand at turtle speed, she patted the same spot again. “My phone. You saw me make calls on it. I’d rather not toss and break it since you want me to talk to my friends.”

  When he nodded, she reached for her other pocket. With a wary eye on the young soldier closest to her, the one whose cheeks were flushed with color and a shadow of stubble, she pulled out a bag of homemade protein bars.

  “What are those?” The twitchy guy barked out the question.

  “Snacks. I get hungry.” At the sergeant’s gesture, she forlornly dropped it on the ground and descended from the crates.

  Wyn’s mental voice cut in. Can we land yet? They’re shooting machine guns at us, and I don’t know how long we can stay up here before Andy gets angry.

  The eerie multi-part chorus of Andy’s bird form spoke again, disapproval strong in its tones. They are disrespectful. I will land by the plane houses.

  Correction, angrier, Wyn corrected herself.

  I got faith he won’t eat them. Zita cleared her throat. “Call off the air support on the big bird. He’ll come down somewhere by the hangars. We don’t have time for this to drag on.”

  Her pocket rang, but she ignore
d it.

  With a wave of the sergeant’s hand, three soldiers surrounded Zita. “The rest of you, spread out and watch for invaders or more of those things.” He brought the radio up to his lips and spoke into it, moving far enough away that Zita couldn’t make out the words. When he finished speaking, he waited.

  Zita tried to relax, be still, and wait too, but her whole body vibrated with impatience when the radio buzzed again with an answer minutes later. Her phone had stopped ringing by then.

  After a brief exchange with whomever was on the radio, the sergeant nodded and turned to her. “Do your friends need to taxi to a landing?”

  After she shook her head, he said, “Tell them to land in the empty parking lot by the hospital.” He made a gesture, and his men herded her to the west, toward the front of the closest hangar. Machinery hummed, and a plane engine revved somewhere nearby.

  Careful to raise her phone to her ear and repeat his words aloud, Zita sent the military’s request to her friends. Maybe they’re taking me with them to check it out? The hospital is halfway between one checkpoint and the hangars, and as far away from the corporate jet as it can get and still be on the base. When she finished, she slipped the device back into her pocket. She went along with the uniformed men, arms loose at her sides and her weight balanced in case more of the undead dinosaurs burst from cover. The only gunfire she heard, however, was distant enough to make her suspect the main fighting had not yet reached this far.

  Andy did not acknowledge or reply.

  After a glance upward to where her friends circled low enough for her to see the lightning tracing Andy’s form, the sergeant spoke again into his radio.

  The plane and helicopters overhead peeled off above, providing a welcome surcease from the relentless pounding noise of their engines, leaving only one or two audible nearby. Zita and the squad with her turned the corner.

  At the sight of her and her escort, the officer waiting there bristled in an uncanny resemblance to a javelina, down to the short white hairs standing upright on his head, cranky expression, and an impressive underbite. Another eight men in dress uniforms surrounded him, though their alert appraisal, firearms at ready, and suspicious expressions resembled the professional scrutiny of bodyguards rather than a personal dislike of her. After a second, she saw an additional member of the group, a slim fellow with the face and litheness of a weasel, poke his long nose out from around the guards to survey her. She decided he had to be an aide, as his only weapons were multiple phones, a radio, and a tablet.

  I think we’re setting down now. Have you gotten them to agree not to shoot us? Nerves sang in Wyn’s voice.

  Zita huffed. They’re talking about it. Give me a break, I’m trying to be all inoffensive and non-threatening here.

  Her words seemed to placate Wyn. That would be a challenge for you.

  The sergeant saluted. His words, as expected, were in Portuguese. “Brigadeiro Silva, sir! We brought the intruder, a bird shapeshifter. She claims her friends on the large bird are here to help against other metahumans.”

  I am so much more than that, but fine. Andy will be happy to know the video hasn’t made it this far south yet. Zita tried for a charming smile but feared the result was a goofy teeth-baring expression.

  One soldier in the squad whispered something.

  With a glance at the man, the sergeant spoke, distaste in his voice. “I’m told they’re Americans who star in some Internet video called the ‘Vigilante Party.’” His pronunciation of the English title held the careful cadences of someone who didn’t speak the language.

  Or perhaps it has. Now to be awesomely polite and charming. Zita spread her arms and addressed the officer in Portuguese. “Brigadeiro Silva, my friends and I came to help. We request that your men please refrain from shooting us while we do so.” She tried smiling again.

  The narrow fellow with the weasel face tapped on his tablet.

  When the brigadier stared at her from under his heavy brows, he said, “We do not need the aid of the United States to handle this! You can tell your keepers that if they want to send a metahuman to us, they can negotiate with our government. We’ll see about allowing one or two of you.”

  “Oh, we’re not with the American government. In fact, we spend as little time as possible with them.” Her smile felt tight, as if she had glued it on.

  Familiar bouncy music came from the tablet, and the aide hastily shut it off. He murmured in the brigadier’s ear.

  The officer purpled. “You’re just attention-seeking glory hounds, not even a real agent like Caroline? Assign two men to escort her to holding until this mess is over.”

  Words spilled out of Zita’s mouth before she could remember to be diplomatic. “What, are you stupid? You’re wasting missiles and ammo trying to shoot down my friend when your actual enemies are already in the base, touching your billion-dollar stuff, and probably running off with it while we speak.”

  All eyes on the surrounding guards went wide, and the sergeant sighed.

  “That’s it, I’m done with her. Lock her up! We’ll decide charges later,” the brigadier said, slashing the air with his hand. His aide nodded and tapped the tablet again.

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant barked. He pointed to two men, then to her.

  The designated soldiers swung their guns to their backs, then each took one of her arms. They marched north, along the length of the hangar and away from the portal.

  “Seriously? Are you turning down the opportunity to have the giant bird as your ally?” Zita pulled, but the men had reach on her and firm grips. While she waited for an opening to escape, she tried joking to relax them… and herself. “You know, if it weren’t for all the uniformed guys standing around, the expectation of demented thugs with powers showing up, and undead dinosaurs, this’d be almost like a walk in a bad city neighborhood.”

  The soldiers surrounding her did not visibly appreciate her attempt at humor and dragged her forward.

  She harrumphed and kept pace. I think I convinced them we’re nuisances, not menaces to shoot on sight, but you’ll have to talk to them, Wyn. They think they’re going to jail me until this mess is over and will probably upgrade us to enemies once I escape.

  How… reassuring and not unexpected. Wyn’s mental voice sighed. Very well. We’ll be nearby and try again. Do you need help?

  Zita shrugged, making one of her captors give her an odd expression. No, I’m fine. I just don’t know where Zeus’ people are or if they’ve already got the SNARC ball. The mercenaries tipped me off where the portal was, but they might’ve moved on from there.

  Party line shut off for a few seconds, then returned. Wyn’s mental voice sounded steadier. Rani’s on the General Aetherics plane still with the SNARC ball, and while alarmed, she hasn’t seen them yet. They’re refueling to take off and go somewhere safer.

  Zita couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. Are you spying on your girlfriend or does she know about your telepathy?

  Rani doesn’t know. I’m just checking on her safety, Wyn corrected.

  Zita’s pocket rang again as she was force-marched wherever they were going. “You guys mind if I get that?”

  They ignored her.

  She sighed and continued watching for an opportunity to escape without harming her guards. Percussive gunfire, punctuated by the heavy tank discharges, continued to pound in the distance. Somewhere closer, she thought she heard a familiar shout, though a plane’s engines roared to life and drowned it out. Jerome?

  A pony-sized gray form exploded from the bushes and attacked.

  One man holding her whipped his M4 carbine out and fired at it, slowing the undead creature. The other shouted but kept hold of her arm as he brought his own weapon around.

  Zita became the big dinosaur she’d been before, but this time gave herself neon stripes in the brilliant green, yellow, and blue of the Brazilian flag.

  One soldier dangled from her arm, gaping at her and the undead. He tried to bring up his wea
pon.

  As Zita leaned forward to let him down without hurting him, the zombie dinosaur turned and struck at the dangling man. Without thinking, she snapped at it, biting its head off. When she realized what she had in her mouth, horror and disgust shot through her, and she spat it out.

  Now headless, the monster clawed at the air.

  Backing away, Zita returned to Arca’s form, spat again, and wiped her mouth with her arm, wishing she could get rid of the nasty, spoiled meat taste. “Shoot the necklace!” she said in Portuguese.

  Both soldiers unloaded on the neck of the creature, pulping it and the ugly brown gem in the collar.

  The dinosaur dropped.

  While they waited to see if it would rise again, she shifted to a greyhound and raced toward the portal. Zita heard the men cry out for her to stop, but she rounded the corner and darted into the dense jungle next to the base before they could fire. When she almost stumbled over the exposed roots of a tree, she switched to a jaguar. At a glimpse of incandescence, she slunk through the jungle toward it.

  Voices had her lowering her belly, so it grazed the forest floor, and she crept forward. Her nose wrinkled as the breeze brought a whiff of either manure heated by the sun or a nearby hoatzin bird, but she caught a handful of a familiar scents, including Jerome’s. I hope he’s smart enough to be sneaking up too, though floundering up might be a more accurate term with his woodcraft.

  In a tight group, Tiffany, Zeus, Pretorius, and a handful of their men huddled in the jungle. To her surprise, the only visible weaponry consisted of handguns and Pretorius’ giant overcompensation knife. Surrounded by the others, a sullen Janus kicked at a small metal plate on the ground. Each person had dull brown gems duct-taped to their arms, except Tiffany, who held one in her hand. Zeus and Tiffany must’ve been arguing given the way they faced each other, bodies stiff with anger.