Rook

by JC Andrijeski

  The GTX’s V-8 engine thrummed a soothing, low sound...

  I snapped awake, panting.

  Revik gripped the front of my uniform shirt in his fist. His other hand gripped the steering wheel even as he leaned over where I lay.

  I was still frozen there, panting, when he slammed my back into the seat.

  “What the—”

  “You cannot sleep!” He barked the words, his accent thick. “You cannot sleep!”

  His face flashed into the negative...

  ...and gold lines make up the bones, muscles and blood of his jaw. His eyes shine white, filled with clouds, darkly twisting movies. Shadows dart as Rooks rope him with silver threads. One throws a ball of spinning silver light.

  ...a complex gold and orange geometry explodes over his head in a shower of sparks.

  Revik's light body flickers, dims.

  I see him draw his light arm back. Then he completes the rest of the motion...

  And suddenly, I am wide, wide awake.

  “Ow!” I held my face. “Ow, Jesus!” When my fingers left my mouth, blood colored them. I felt my cheek swelling already and my shock and pain turned into something closer to rage. “Are you kidding me?” I touched my lip. “You hit me!”

  “Stay here, Allie!” he said. “Do whatever you have to, but stay the fuck in your body...I cannot do everything!”

  “You hit me!”

  He glared at me. “Yes.”

  “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I said.

  “Yes.” He released the front of my shirt.

  Taking another breath, he exhaled sharply, leaning back in his own seat.

  “They are draining you, Esteemed Bridge...you will get tired. You will get very tired, but you cannot sleep! I hit you only to bring you back. If your body perceives itself in mortal danger, your light will return.” His eyes returned to my face.

  “Pain is fastest. Understand?”

  Something rammed us, hurling me into the dashboard.

  Revik veered when the truck accelerated to smash into our rear bumper again.

  Suddenly a police car blazed behind us, siren on as it flashed its lights.

  Revik yanked the wheel left, throwing us into the grass and tree-filled island between the north and south-bound lanes. I gripped the dashboard as we bounced down the grade. We hit hard at the bottom, then Revik gunned the GTX up the grassy hill.

  Behind us, the cop car hit that same grade at a different angle and got stuck, wheels spinning in the dirt after it smashed its grill into a boulder.

  Revik entered the south-bound traffic going north.

  I let out an involuntary cry as horns blared, cars spun and veered with a squeal of grinding metal and burnt rubber. He straightened the car’s trajectory and accelerated.

  I looked back through our half-missing rear window.

  Glass covered the back seat. I touched my face, realized I had tiny cuts on my arms and hands that I hadn’t noticed.

  Cars screeched to a halt, swerved to avoid hitting us, slamming into one another instead. I counted five...six separate vehicles wrecked just past where the GTX dragged dirt tracks onto the road. Taking a breath, I gripped the armrest under the side window and stared at the blurring trees, flinching at the view out the windshield.

  He spoke up as he weaved between cars.

  “The Rooks would rather convert you,” he said. “But killing you would be an acceptable outcome for them...”

  I gripped the dashboard, not looking at him. “Great. Nice to know. Revik...just drive the damned car, okay?”

  He swerved again, causing another car to slam its brakes too hard and flip.

  I watched through the rear window as that same car came crashing down in the middle of the road, facing the opposite direction as traffic, like us. I looked to my right, saw the truck driver pacing us in the northbound lanes up above, flashing between the trees of the wide divide.

  “...The reality is, no one knows what causes the end.” Revik was saying. “Your death itself might start the wars.”

  He drove up and over the gravel shoulder. He aimed us back into the island between the north and southbound lanes, bouncing a rough diagonal line through the sloped grass. I realized he was heading back towards the north-facing lanes.

  “Your presence here complicates things for both sides. The fact that you are telekinetic—”

  I shouted over the engine and bouncing car.

  “You pick now to get chatty?”

  The GTX slammed into a hole and a rock, and I smacked my head on the roof, yelped. We were nearly across the island.

  “Hold the wheel,” Revik said.

  “What?”

  He turned to look at me...

  ...and his eyes are silver once more, metallic. Inside, pictures flicker in an organic projector, a war happened and happening and about to happen in shadows and exploding lights. I see vultures around his head, raptors...

  ...and snapped out.

  His body lay slumped over the steering wheel.

  I leapt onto him without thought. Pushing his torso back, I slid into his lap and gripped the wheel, turning it sharply to avoid hitting a tree. Shoving my legs down between his, I jammed my foot on the accelerator over his leather boot.

  Still, we’d slowed down, enough that the trucker pacing us miscalculated.

  I drove us through a narrow gap between two trees as that same trucker hit his brakes, trying to head me off. Managing to just get in behind him anyway, I headed for the right lanes, swerving on asphalt and gravel as we abruptly accelerated out of the lawn...

  When Revik jerked beneath me.

  He grabbed the wheel over my hands, as if to steady himself. Remembering what he said about pain, I dug my fingernails into the skin of his knuckles.

  “Wake up! REVIK!”

  His eyes clicked into focus.

  He looked up at me, briefly, then turned away, coughing. Blood speckled the glass of the driver’s side window. He wiped his mouth, but when I started to climb out of his lap, he grabbed my wrist.

  “I need you to drive,” he said.

  He was already moving out from behind the wheel.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I considered protesting, but realized it was too late as he crawled into the passenger seat to my right and leaned between the seats to retrieve the gym bag from the back seat of the car.

  Watching him, I perched on the edge of the driver’s seat to compensate for his long legs, gaining control of the car before I fumbled for the knob to move the chair.

  I forgot about both things when a booming sound vibrated the sides of the car.

  I ducked as I felt nicks from more shards of glass, glancing at the ragged hole punched through a rear side window.

  The trucker accelerated from a few lanes over, leaning out his cab.

  Revik opened the black gym bag, and pulled out a shotgun that looked like law-enforcement issue. He dug around in the bag for a box of shells. Cracking the cardboard open one-handed once he found it, he dumped a pile in his lap, then began methodically loading the Remington 870 with deft fingers.

  He paused, giving me a quizzical look.

  “How do you know that?” he said. “About the gun.”

  I looked at him, blank, then at the gun. “Old boyfriend.” When Revik went back to loading, I said, “What are you going to do? You can’t just shoot them all.”

  He continued loading the gun, not answering at first.

  Then he glanced up at me again, his voice flat, “You have the right to lodge a formal complaint regarding my methods with the Council once we arrive. They will hear you, and with a great deal of sympathy...I assure you. But reminding me of the damage I’m doing to my soul won’t help either of us right now, Allie.”

  I stared at him uncomprehendingly, saw no hint of sarcasm. When he seemed to be expecting a response, I could only nod.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  “Thank you.” He chambered the first shell with a smooth jerk of his hand, the
n leaned out the window.

  I watched in the mirror as he aimed at the truck, firing as soon as he leveled the barrel.

  The truck swerved and his shot went wide.

  Revik aimed again.

  He hit the grill that time, and the truck swerved behind another 18-wheeler.

  Revik sat back, his pale eyes locked on the mirrors. I heard a bleep of loudspeaker and turned, saw a Washington State police car pull up alongside us. Inside, a red-faced officer leaned back stiffly in his seat, driving and glaring at us while his partner aimed a shotgun at Revik.

  “Pull over!” the driver yelled. “Right now!”

  I caught the barest whisper of Revik’s thoughts.

  We are not the criminals. It is them. Help us.

  The cop driving glanced at his partner. Confusion softened both of their faces.

  We are in danger. Protect us. Please.

  The officer nodded to Revik, indicating the highway ahead. He shouted, “...Go on. We’ll take care of this, sir.”

  Thank you, officer.

  The driver tapped his brakes, picking up the police radio mouthpiece and speaking into it as the car fell dramatically behind.

  I looked at Revik, dumbfounded.

  “Go faster,” he said. “They will do the same to us.”

  I muttered something about free will, hammering my foot down on the gas. My fingers whitened as the scenery started to blur.

  Revik shrugged in answer to a question I hadn’t asked.

  “I thought you would prefer that to my killing the driver,” he muttered.

  I followed the direction of his eyes through the rear-view mirror, saw the vibrating reflection of the cop car slow beside the truck’s cab, right before I heard the same blare of loudspeaker and warning tap of siren.

  A second later, Revik turned to me.

  “It’s done. Faster, Allie.”

  The Washington cops’ siren blared back into life.

  I already had the pedal down hard. Now I pressed it to the floor, feeling my chest constrict as the GTX leapt forward. We were definitely past my comfort zone in terms of my ability to navigate at high speeds. I was on the verge of being out of control when I felt Revik with me in the Barrier, directing my hands. I resisted at first—

  Let me. You will learn.

  Faintly, a grid appeared, a maze of bright lines that overlaid the scenery and cars. The grid showed how the drivers interacted with one another and the light of the Barrier. I could almost see what each driver would do—

  Another blast hit the back of the car.

  My eyes snapped to focus as Revik’s mind left mine.

  He leaned out the window as I turned, propping the stock against his shoulder and firing. The sound boomed inside the car, deafening, right before I saw the cop car swerve to avoid his shots. The black hood erupted in smoke after Revik’s third shot penetrated the engine block.

  The police car swerved again, then rolled.

  I heard a squeal of tires, a sound like an explosion, but the crash sounds were rapidly receding already.

  I swallowed back bile, trying to focus.

  “They seemed nice,” I said. “Like nice people.”

  He didn’t answer. A shot hit the back of the car with a loud plink and groan of metal. Revik leaned out again, firing at whoever was shooting at us.

  His mind felt closed to me now, so I stared out the windshield, digging my nails into my palms every time drowsiness tried to overtake me, hoping like hell I didn’t kill us both. I was so focused on these two things in fact, staying awake and not crashing from the speed, that I barely noticed the second police car pull up alongside us.

  I glanced over in time to see the officer in the driver’s seat reach for his sidearm. I sucked in a breath, ready to duck, but the man unholstered his weapon and held it out to Revik through the window, the handle pointed towards us.

  I worried Revik had told him to shoot himself, but...

  ...the gun simply left his fingers.

  It clattered to the road, bouncing behind us.

  “Watch the road!” Revik snapped, glaring at me. “I am doing this! You drive!”

  I turned back to the windshield.

  But his anger had allowed me to feel him again, at least in part.

  The gun was as far as he would get with that human; the Rooks already had control over the cop’s mind. The knowing of that fact reflected a bitterness in Revik that surprised me.

  ...bastard’s doing it on purpose, forcing me to kill as many as he can...

  When he looked at me next, anger still hardened his features.

  Swallowing, I nodded, trying to let him see that I understood.

  WE APPROACHED SEATTLE.

  I glimpsed a skyline to my left, then flashes of buildings through a maze of overpasses dripping with dark green plants.

  I recognized landmarks from being here with Jon, but couldn’t read signs with how fast we were going. I’d stopped looking at the speedometer by then, anyway.

  Revik was doing something in that other place, so I couldn’t ask for his help to use his grid thing. I felt a few people point and stare at us as we passed. I also saw other vehicles hitting their turn signals and pulling over, moving out of the way of the line of cop cars screaming behind us, clearing the freeway for the chase.

  I felt it when the third cop car ceased to be a pull toy between Revik and whoever else.

  I felt Revik lose that battle, too, and felt him let go just before the cop accelerated, coming up on us blaring light and sound from his overhead siren. I glanced over in time to see the dark-skinned cop smile at Revik, making an odd flowing up and down gesture with one hand that had the flavor of a taunt.

  Whatever it was, it definitely didn’t look human.

  Then, whatever held the cop’s body let go, leaving the cop sweaty-faced, determined, and completely focused on the two of us. From his eyes, he fully believed we’d killed his whole family with baseball bats then lit his house on fire.

  Revik turned to me, his pale eyes hard.

  “Stop the car,” he growled.

  I thought I’d heard him wrong. “What?”

  Behind him, I saw the Seattle cop raise a shotgun.

  Before I could react, Revik grabbed the wheel, jerking it sideways to slam into the cruiser. The cop dropped the shotgun, and I heard his partner yelling excitedly.

  “Revik, jesus! What are you—”

  “Take that exit! Now, Allie!”

  He pointed and I veered, braking to slide across lanes.

  I saw the truck driver in the blue flannel shirt, who was still, amazingly, behind us, begin the turn to follow. I glimpsed faces as other, noninvolved drivers reacted, too, their eyes widening in fear as they tried to get out of my way, instead coming even more dangerously close to hitting us.

  By some miracle, I slid behind the Washington cop car, in front of a different trucker who honked madly at us.

  Then we were past, wincing from the scrape of metal as the GTX grazed his grill.

  Revik leaned out the window, firing at the Seattle cop from behind.

  He blew out a rear tire with the first shot, smashed the back window with his second. He chambered another round and aimed again, blocking my side view when he climbed up to sit on the passenger side window.

  The Seattle cop cut across multiple lanes and again I felt the difference; it was no longer a human driving, but one of those things with lightning-fast reflexes and 360 degree vision. I was forced to brake, saw Revik clutch the window frame as he lost his balance. The Seattle cop swerved, just making it onto the exit off-ramp behind us.

  A sign flashed by, too fast for me to read clearly.

  I glimpsed white words spelling “Mercer Island.”

  Revik slid back in through the window, landing on the seat. When I looked over, his shoulder was bleeding again, a dark, spreading stain under his shirt.

  “You are trained in basic firearms use?” he said.

  “Right,” I said, loud over
the wind and engine. “Dad taught me to shoot cans. I'm practically special forces.”

  “Good.” He propped the gun up on the seat between us. “Use it if they get too close.” He added, “Or if I don’t come back.”

  “What? Revik, that's not funny, I—”

  His body slumped against the seat.

  I cursed, swerved into a guardrail, and the GTX threw up sparks as metal grated metal. I gripped Revik’s bare arm in my stubby nails, hard enough to bruise his skin. I shook him, then wondered if I should hit him, like he had me.

  “Revik! You've got to be kidding me! REVIK!”

  Something smashed into the back of the car.

  I was merging into the main sprawl of traffic on the new highway and the truck driver with the blue flannel shirt was in the next lane over. Pulling up alongside the GTX, he aimed the pump-action shotgun out his window.

  I hit the brakes like Revik had done, and another cop car hit us from behind. That same cop car forced me along until I accelerated, and then the guy was honking, waving at me to pull over.

  A rush of panic made me wonder what would happen if I did.

  Even as I thought it, the first Seattle cop drew up next to me on my other side.

  ...and for an instant, I see him. A metal thread cage ensnares his light, and behind his eyes breathe the orbs of the Rook controlling him. They shine coal red, and he makes his thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun, pointing it at me as his lips stretch in a corpse’s smile.

  Bang, bang, little girl.

  I snapped out, still miraculously gripping the steering wheel...and feel them in me. They drag at me and I shriek, as if the sound of my own voice might keep my light in my body.

  But I can feel myself separating out, losing control of my limbs.

  Lowering my head, I bite down on my fingers. My teeth clamp on skin and bone and my light rushes in like a rubber band snapping back.

  Pain came with the light. But clarity, too.

  I un-clamped my jaw from the red crescent on my knuckles. Blood dripped over the steering wheel once I’d extracted my teeth, but all I could feel was relief.

  Just then, everything went dark.

  We’d entered a tunnel. My foot mashed down harder on the accelerator.