Carnival of Mayhem (Gray Spear Society)

by Siegel, Alex

  Ethel caught up to him. When he saw her, his eyes opened wide. The muscles on his right arm tensed. She guessed he was about to reach for a weapon. His hand began to move towards his waist. She jabbed him in the right elbow with her fingertips, striking the ulnar nerve. The attack was quick and subtle enough that the people around them probably wouldn't notice.

  Harbinger clenched his right hand tightly. He was undoubtedly experiencing intense pain. His pace slowed down.

  "Keep moving," she commanded. "Don't stop."

  He stopped walking. "I don't take orders from you."

  She grabbed his middle finger and twisted until it dislocated. He tried to push her away, but she evaded easily and he only managed to swat the air. She used the injured finger as leverage to force him to walk. To a witness, it would appear she was just holding his hand.

  "Yes, you do," she said.

  Aaron's bomb exploded behind them. Harbinger looked back. Ethel used the finger to keep him moving forward at a steady pace.

  "Who are you?" he said through clenched teeth.

  "I told you before. I'm the wrath of the Lord."

  "What's your real name?"

  She shook her head. "You may address me as ma'am."

  She felt a familiar rush of exhilaration, and the world became much brighter. She saw the finest details of every beautiful blade of grass. Men and women glowed with spiritual power. The relationships between them became visible as a shifting web of energy. She heard the heartbeat of the universe as it evolved towards its destiny. The Presence had come to witness the climax of the mission.

  "You will die," Harbinger said.

  "Yes," Ethel said, "eventually."

  "Very soon. I'm a highly skilled assassin. I've killed many people. If you were smart, you'd be afraid of me."

  She smiled. "You saw me fight yesterday evening."

  "Yes."

  "And you still think I should be afraid of you?"

  He looked down and was silent.

  "And I'm not even the most dangerous person in my organization," she added. "That honor falls to a man named Carlos, who lives in Mexico City. You're just a cupcake by comparison."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "I'm protecting God's world."

  "By saving lives?" He snorted. "The universe was sterile when it began. When the stars burn out, it will become sterile again. Life is a transient aberration, a meaningless blip in the darkness. Death is the natural order. Death is God's will."

  "You're wrong. Life is the meaning of the universe. The world exists so we can exist. We are intelligent and creative. What happens after we're gone is irrelevant. Even God will turn away then."

  "Life doesn't matter! Everything turns to dust in the end. 'And on the pedestal these words appear: my name is Ozymandias, king of kings, look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away.'"

  Ethel shook her head. "Quoting Shelley won't impress me." She pointed at a young couple holding hands. "Those two love each other. They don't care about what happens a thousand years from now."

  "We all die because God wants us dead," Harbinger said.

  "If God wanted us dead, we would be dead now. We are His greatest achievement. Except in your sad case. If you have any last words, speak them."

  The pedestrian traffic was thinning out. She began to look for a nice, private spot to end Harbinger's life.

  "The Order of Eternal Night has many members," he said. "They will carry on without me."

  "Not likely. We already killed a lot of them, and we'll hunt down the rest. That's what we do."

  "I thought you protected life."

  "Sometimes you have to destroy the cancer," she said.

  The Presence moved within her, angry and impatient. Her hands began to flex on their own. I have to finish this now.

  She pointed to a narrow, shaded alley between two apartment buildings. "That way." She twisted his finger to make sure he complied.

  He turned obediently, but his thoughtful expression suggested he was planning something. She was ready for whatever he had in mind. She knew all the tricks.

  As soon as they were out of sight, she released him. "This is your last chance to repent," she said. "God is listening."

  Harbinger began to spin around. The move would've seemed lightning fast to anybody else, but she had plenty of time to contemplate it. The spin flowed into a kick aimed at her chest. She casually stepped aside and he only struck the air. A knife dropped from his sleeve into his hand, and the blade was covered with brown paste. Still spinning and kicking, he attempted to slash her neck. His skillful execution impressed her. Clearly, he had practiced this combination many times, and it was probably his best. What a waste of talent, she thought.

  She swept his supporting leg with a hook kick. As he collapsed, she grabbed the poisoned knife by the hilt and turned it upside down. He landed on the knife, and the sharp tip was driven deeply into his chest. Blood gushed out. She hopped back to keep her shoes clean.

  "Thy will be done," she declared.

  The Presence was satisfied.

  * * *

  "Get out of my way!" Marina screamed.

  She forced her way through the crowd. When her voice didn't make people move, she used her elbows instead. Her quarry was just a few yards ahead, and fortunately, he was having the same trouble as she was.

  Finally, they broke free. The hunt became a desperate foot race through the tree-lined streets of northern Chicago.

  She studied her target during the pursuit. He was young, perhaps twenty years old, and very fit. His baseball cap covered very short hair. He wore jeans so tight he couldn't hide much underneath. His white T-shirt, on the other hand, was loose enough to conceal weapons.

  Aaron's bomb exploded in the distance behind her. The young man looked back without slowing.

  Marina quickly realized he was too fast and the best she could hope for was to keep pace with him for a short time. Her weapons and body armor seemed to grow heavier with each step. Eventually, he would escape.

  She could shoot him in the back. It was a tempting notion, but there were far too many witnesses around. Ethel would never forgive Marina for being so sloppy. She needed another approach.

  "Hey, punk!" Marina yelled. "Why are you running? Are you scared?"

  The Eternal glanced back at her.

  "I'm more than ten years older than you, and I'm a woman! You should be chasing me!"

  He slowed down slightly and she was grateful. She really needed to catch her breath.

  "Coward!" she yelled. "Pussy! Did Harbinger cut off your balls? Stand up to me like a man!"

  He stopped running and faced her. Breathing hard, she walked up to him. His face was pale from exertion, but he wasn't nearly as winded as her. I need to do more aerobics, she thought.

  "Who are you?" he said.

  She wanted her answer to be clever and profound, but no good ideas came to her on the spot. She settled for, "I'm your enemy, and we're going to fight."

  He stared at her, and his smug expression indicated he wasn't impressed. "Fine. We'll fight. No guns, though. I don't like guns."

  "Are knives acceptable?"

  "Yes." He nodded. "Very acceptable."

  "Then we're in agreement. Now we just need a private location. We don't want the police getting in the way."

  He cocked his head. "You're serious? I'm going to slice you like a piece of salami. I'm a pro with a knife."

  She smiled in anticipation. "Go ahead and try, but first pick a location."

  After looking around for a moment, he pointed at the roof of a three-story apartment building. "Up there."

  "Perfect. Lead the way."

  They went to the front door of the building. He tried to open it, but it was locked.

  "Pick it," Marina said.

  "I don't have any lock picks," he said.

  She rolled her eyes. "And you c
all yourself a professional assassin? What a joke." She took a set of lock picks from inside her coat and handed them over. "Try these."

  It took him a few minutes of fumbling with the picks to open the door. They climbed up a central staircase to the top floor. Another door led to the roof, and it was also locked.

  "I'll do this one, junior." She took the lock picks. "Watch and learn."

  She needed only fifteen seconds to get through.

  They walked out onto the roof. The surface was tar and gravel. Treacherous footing, she thought. She would have to maintain a balanced stance during the fight. A light breeze chilled her skin.

  They faced each other at a distance of ten paces. The young man still had a smug expression but less so than before.

  "What are you hiding under your coat?" he asked.

  She opened her coat to reveal an arsenal of weapons and explosives. Body armor covered her torso and groin.

  "Whoa!" he said. "You can't have all that stuff. It's not fair."

  "This is a death match between professional killers, not a game of cricket. Fairness doesn't really apply. Besides, you were just giving poison to civilians. But we'll play it your way. What are the rules for this fight?"

  He furrowed his brow. "Two knives each. Nothing else. No body armor."

  "No poison, either."

  "All my knives have poison."

  "Then use mine." She selected two relatively large knives from her collection and tossed them over.

  He picked up the knives and examined them critically. "These are beautiful."

  "Of course. Now strip down to your underwear. I want to make sure you're not hiding any surprises under your clothes. You want this to be fair."

  "You have to strip too. Underwear only."

  They took off their clothes and equipment and set them aside. The cold air bit her skin, and she began to shiver. The rough gravel cut into the soles of her bare feet. It will only be for a few minutes, she thought.

  "Hey, you are hot," he said. "Maybe I'll rape you instead of killing you." He thrust his hips suggestively at her.

  Marina felt a rush of anger. "You just bought yourself a lot of extra pain."

  Her body was tingling with excitement. She loved mortal combat, and a real knife fight against a skilled opponent was a special treat. Even sex with Aaron couldn't compare to this level of intensity. For the next couple of minutes every decision mattered, and the price of even the smallest mistake was death. Genuine fear added spice to the moment.

  A small part of her knew she was crazy. A sane woman would've simply shot her enemy instead of engaging in an elaborate murder ritual. She wasn't entertaining a crowd in a coliseum. Nobody else would know the difference. By stretching out the fight, she was just putting herself and the mission at unnecessary risk. It was irresponsible.

  But she didn't care. Moments like this were why she endured a life filled with boredom, paranoia, and doubt. She had accepted the fact she was a repulsive monster hiding behind a beautiful face.

  She selected her two favorite blades from her pile of weapons. They had clean, straight edges, honed to razor sharpness. The hilts were wrapped with real leather straps instead of cheap rubber or plastic. She had spent so many hours practicing with these particular knives that they seemed like extensions of her hands.

  The two adversaries walked towards each other. Marina watched how her enemy moved to see if he had any obvious weaknesses, but she saw none. His well defined muscles showed he was a very strong man. He also had much greater reach and the quickness of youth. There was no way she could overpower him physically.

  Even in her overly excited state, she knew it was foolish to engage in a straight contest of strength and skill. The odds of victory weren't good enough. She would have to utilize her innate advantages.

  She stretched her arms and pushed out her breasts.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "Warming up," she said. "My muscles are tight."

  "You're stretching now?"

  "Why not? Are you in a hurry to die?"

  She turned around and grabbed her toes. She anticipated seeing a beautiful woman in her underwear, completely bent over, would have a powerful effect on the young man. She looked between her legs, and the stunned expression on his face confirmed her belief. She wiggled her hips for emphasis.

  "Uh," he said, "are we going to fight soon?"

  Marina knew that men were simple creatures. They could only focus on one thing at a time, and right now her enemy was thinking about sex, not killing.

  "You can stretch, too, if you want."

  "No, thanks," he said. "I'll just watch you."

  She bounced on the balls of her feet to jiggle her breasts, and then she performed some high kicks to show off her long legs. The exercise was actually warming her up.

  She abruptly grabbed a handful of loose gravel and threw it at his face. He raised his hands to protect his eyes. She reared back and hurled a knife at his unprotected stomach. Throwing a weapon was risky, but her aim was superb, and the blade embedded itself in his flesh.

  He looked down at the knife. "You bitch!" he yelled.

  Now he's confused and angry, she thought. Good.

  He pulled out the knife and blood trickled from the wound. He tried to stop the bleeding with his hands, but it didn't help.

  "What's wrong?" she said. "Did I break the rules?"

  He threw her knife back at her. She was ready and dodged the attack easily. She carefully noted where the knife landed.

  He took a deep breath and settled down, which surprised her. She had expected him to charge forward stupidly and meet the sharp end of her other blade. He is well trained. Interesting.

  He walked forward with his knives held in front of his body. It was a classic fighting stance, which allowed him to slash, stab, and block easily. She knew several counter-moves, but all of them were standard and boring. She wanted to have more fun with him.

  "That's a nasty wound," she said. "Is that a piece of intestine I see poking out?"

  "Huh?" He glanced down at his belly.

  She threw her second knife with all her strength at the same spot as before. This time the blade penetrated even deeper into his gut. She was sure she had punctured his bowels.

  He groaned.

  "Leave that one in," she said. "You want the hole plugged so you don't bleed to death."

  He grimaced at her. She smiled prettily.

  He reared back to throw his own knife but stopped short with a pained expression. His injured abdomen was clearly giving him a lot of trouble. Without the proper motion, the throw would have no power or accuracy. He resumed walking forward in a fighting stance. She stepped backward at the same pace.

  "Come here, whore," he said with clenched teeth. "Let me get my hands on you."

  The knife that she had thrown first was still lying on the roof. She intentionally slipped and fell directly on it, so her enemy wouldn't see it. The gravel abraded her skin but she was too excited to feel pain.

  The man saw his opportunity and charged forward.

  She took her knife from behind her back and stabbed his right foot, pinning it to the roof. Then, she viciously kicked his left knee. The joint bent the wrong way and broke with a loud pop. She rolled away and hopped to her feet before he had time to counterattack. She could see the end of his tibia poking out from torn skin on the back of his knee.

  He looked at the injury and gasped.

  Marina kicked one of his hands and his knife went flying. He tried to slash her with the other knife. She grabbed his wrist firmly and drove her knee into his forearm. The blow forced him to release the weapon, and she picked it up.

  She stepped back. "That was fun. Thanks."

  He moaned.

  "But the fight is over," she said. "That means it's the end for you."

  "You don't scare me, bitch. Kill me. I want to be dead!"

  "Not quite yet. I'm still mad about that rape crack. Maybe I should cut off your balls and stuf
f them down your throat." She sighed. "But I don't have time. I'm sure my boss is already waiting for me. She doesn't like to wait."

  She selected a light but accurate pistol from her pile of weapons and equipment. She walked over to the young man. Her gun moved back and forth as she debated where to shoot him.

  "For billions of years," he said, "Earth was lifeless. Inevitably, the Earth will return to that pristine state..."

  "Shut up."

  She shot off his jaw and put two more bullets in his throat. She watched as he slowly choked to death on his own blood.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Aaron forced his way through the thick crowd. He didn't yell, but he did speak firmly. When people didn't move aside, he pushed them out of his way with his superior strength. He wasn't about to let his enemy escape.

  His target was a young man with black skin. The sunset symbol was shaved into his short hair on the back of his head. His white Mooseland T-shirt fit tightly across his broad shoulders. He was fairly short but looked as sturdy as an oak tree.

  They broke away from the crowd, and the chase continued through the city streets. Aaron was in great shape, but he was carrying a heavy load of weapons and other gear, and his long coat kept wrapping around his legs. He was equipped for battle not a footrace.

  He couldn't shoot the man in the back without a witness seeing it. A steady stream of pedestrians flowed towards Wrigley Field, and many of them were staring curiously at Aaron. He had no choice but to just keep running.

  The enemy turned a corner. When Aaron came around the same corner a moment later, the man was gone. Aaron looked in all directions but saw no sign of him. Damn!

  The bomb he had planted earlier exploded. He glanced back to see an orange fireball rising into the sky.

  He spotted a fresh footprint in the nearby grass. Muddy tracks went up a staircase to the second floor of a two-story building. Walking very quietly, he followed the tracks up to a door. The doorjamb was broken.