New Dominion

by C. G Harris

  The bag sat crumpled a few paces behind me, so I hurried to clear the chamber and stow the rifle inside. A chill went up my spine when the shell ejected. Hard to believe how close Nick and I had been to receiving that shell in a less pleasant fashion.

  With the gun safetied and zipped away, I threw the bag over my free shoulder and turned to leave. Instead of waiting for me at the end of the aisle or near the stairs, I was shocked to see Average Joe standing on the top rail of the catwalk. The Nazi stood next to him again, whispering in his ear. Joe nodded several times, staring down at the floor fifty feet below.

  “No!” I dropped the duffel bag and lunged for him, but it was too late. With a calculated leap, Joe dove off the catwalk headfirst.

  I rushed to the rail in time to witness the last half of his fall. The entire scene played out in surreal slow motion. Joe fell, arms splayed wide in a perfect diver’s position, ready to plunge into his target at the last moment.

  Nick moved from behind the podium to pace out around to his left, playing to the crowd, oblivious to the danger careening in from above. I watched in horror as their paths crossed, and for a moment, I thought Average Joe had timed his jump perfectly. But then Nick kept walking, and Joe sailed past him, slamming into the stage in front of Ryan and Coffee Guy. Right where Nick had stood not a millisecond before. The dull, deep thump shook the walls. I felt it even in the catwalk beneath my feet. There was a moment of silent disbelief, then a single scream, then pandemonium. I stood, stunned at what I had witnessed

  The crowd erupted in shouts and cries, Nick, Ryan, and Coffee Guy were rushed off stage. I had just enough time to glance toward the tall, black curtain where Alex and I had stood when we arrived. She was back, looking up at me, along with dozens of other people, now seeking the reason for such a tragedy. People pointed; people shouted. Alex put her face in her palm.

  Time for me to disappear. I turned to run, but Nazi had lingered long enough to gloat. He hissed at me, and for a moment, I thought he might charge. But I brandished my battle-axe again, and he came up short. Not invisible to everyone, I guess.

  I took a step in his direction, and Nazi gave me a snarl and a salute and streaked off as fast as he had before. With my way clear of the one soldier Blitzkrieg, I could make my escape. Trouble was my only exit happened to be a one-way ticket to a charging wall of stun guns and handcuffs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The clomping feet of security and concerned citizens clattered up the only access to the lighting catwalk. I had minutes, probably seconds, before the straps suspending this rig from the ceiling would be over capacity with sweaty, overweight, mall cop wannabes wearing giant radios.

  The far end of the catwalk was only a few feet away, so I hurried back, buying myself as much time as possible, ducking behind a thick knot of lights and rigging. To me, it looked like the orange glow of my axe was a giant spotlight pointing to my location, but I hoped that, like Average Joe, my pursuers would not be able to see it.

  I peered over the rail, looking for another way out. Joe had already demonstrated the swan dive method. Not a good option. Even if it didn’t kill me, pulling my shins out of my ribcage did not sound like a fun Saturday night on the town. There had to be a better place to land—a mattress, a trampoline, a shallow glass of water. Then I saw it.

  About ten feet from the far corner stood a large stage prop. I assumed it was a giant representation of one of the nanobots Nick was so excited about. To me, the thing looked like a twelve-tentacled octopus with metal arms and horror film syringe antennae. If he tried to inject that thing into my veins, I would run screaming for my mommy. Fortunately, the thirty-foot twelve-opus stood just below the catwalk. Only a short drop to its head ... helmet ... whatever.

  I ran to the corner and mounted the rails. It was amazing how far a few feet seemed when you stared down at the dome of a giant death-bot. Thumping vibrations made everything shudder beneath my feet. The welcoming committee had arrived. Time to go. I raised my flaming axe into the air like an Olympic torch and jumped.

  The landing was not what I had expected. For all my hasty planning, I did not consider the one thing that mattered most in my landing site. What it was made of. Turns out papier-mâché is not as resilient as one might think, despite its faux-chrome finish.

  My body tore through the head of the twelve-opus, barely slowing me at all. I prayed my axe would not ignite the paper the way it had lit up my pants. If it did, I would find myself inside a giant, fire-opus instead. Thankfully, the flames never left the axe, leaving little more than a charred edge.

  The rest of my body, however, plummeted through the tissue shell like a bowling ball through leaf litter. I had about a second of free fall before I hit the bottom of the apparatus, this time butt first, breaking through the rest of the monster on my way to the ground floor. Lucky for me, a few of the tentacles slowed my descent on my way out—not so lucky for the twelve-opus.

  The strain on the papier-mâché death-bot proved to be too great. As soon as I hit the stage, it began to topple like Paul Bunyan’s tree. The whole thing creaked, wires snapped, and the creature crumbled and rolled, straight toward what was left of the awaiting audience. So much for a discreet getaway.

  Screams renewed as the huge monster attacked, rolling along its axis, gaining speed as it went. The death-bot was so big, it rolled right over the chairs on the bottom level as if they weren’t even there. People ducked and ran. The whole scene was like a real-life Godzilla movie. I so wanted to yell “Godzirra,” but I figured I had done enough. As distractions went, this was a doozy, and I would not let it go to waste.

  I ran for the backstage door, holding my burning axe hand up in the air, so I didn’t catch it on anything else or, you know, chop some poor bystander in half. The way things were going, I would run into the prime minister of France and lop off his head.

  When I got to the door, I kicked it open and rushed outside. People were running everywhere, sirens wailed in the distance, and among it all, there I stood, one arm up in the air like a school kid asking for a hall pass. If my flaming monstrosity had been visible to anyone else, they would have pointed it out right away—most likely while they ran in the opposite direction. As it was, my strange pose just earned me an odd glance or two.

  Without waiting another second, I sped off toward the alley behind the theater. Alex and I had prearranged a meeting spot there in case things went wrong. And by wrong, I mean pretty much everything that I was in any way involved with. If I got there before the theater posse tracked me down, we could disappear before I did any more damage. The only problem was my big handful of flaming axe.

  No matter what I did, the thing wouldn’t go away. The handle didn’t have an off switch, and I couldn’t let it go. I shook my hand, waved my arm—I even tried to peel the handle off my palm, Bugs Bunny style—but nothing worked. How would I explain this to Alex, not to mention the Judas Agency, and everyone else in The Nine? Even if it remained invisible, I couldn’t wander around with my arm up in the air. Alex would jab me in the ribs after the first three seconds.

  I was so preoccupied with dropping the invisa-torch, I didn’t realize I had rounded the corner into the alley where we agreed to meet. I was still shaking my hand like a kid whooshing a wire hanger when I saw Alex. She stood about halfway down the alley, almost hidden in a shadow. For a moment, I thought she hadn’t seen me, then I realized why she had remained so still. Next to her, deeper in the shadow stood another form I recognized. Nazi had somehow beaten me to our rendezvous point and now whispered in Alex’s ear.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was no good explanation as to how he knew Alex and I were connected, but there he stood, pressed up against Alex, his lips working feverishly in her ear. He looked somehow lewd and improper when he worked his magic with her, far different than when he had puppeted the late Average Joe. The sight of him with Alex made me shake with fury. I gripped my axe, now grateful I still had it in hand, and charged forward with an
angry cry, determined to cleave the thing out of existence, once and for all.

  My feet pounded the ground as I raised my fiery weapon. The flames glinted off the brickwork buildings on either side as I ran. Alex remained steadfast as she reached into her jacket and unholstered the LC9 Ruger pistol she always packed for our Topside missions. As she drew a bead on me, I began to smile. Whoever Nazi was, he must not know mortal weapons can’t harm us up here, at least not for long. A gunshot wound to the chest might sting, but it would heal fast, not slowing me down any more than a paintball gun. At least that’s what I hoped. For Alex, it was worth the risk.

  I kept running while she held her aim steady. Her blank stare and slack face disheartened me, despite the Nazi’s poor choice of weapon. It wasn’t until I came within twenty yards that he illustrated my mistake.

  Anyone from The Nine who traveled Topside manifested a power. Something connected to their past life. It wasn’t a secret many knew about, for obvious reasons, but it was one of the only things that had the ability to hurt another Niner while we were Topside. Alex could manifest fire. Not huge bouts of molten flame, but she could pull up a handful without a problem. Right now, I watched her gun hand blaze to life. If she found a way to boost a gunshot with her fire power, I would end up with an all-expense paid trip to the Gnashing Fields.

  She took her first shot, and I dove out of the bullet’s path. I had just enough time to see the projectile whizz by in a streak of red light as if it were a tracer round kindled in flame. I was a sitting duck, but I jumped behind a dumpster, hoping to gain some cover. I had never seen Alex do anything like that before. Manifesting enough flame for a makeshift torch or a campfire was one thing, but this trick reached a whole other level. Either she was holding out on me, or Nazi knew a lot more than I gave him credit for.

  Alex’s LC9 fired again, sending three more rounds down range. All three punched through my heavy, steel dumpster as if it were made of tissue. The noise all but deafened me. Every shell hit like a sledgehammer, leaving a quarter-sized hole of oozing, molten metal. If I didn’t figure something out fast, I’d be wearing one of those holes as a fashion accessory.

  I looked down at the axe in my hand and shook my head. Time for a Hail Mary. This thing better be designed to act the way I needed it to. I waited for another shot to punch through the end of the dumpster, then spun around the opposite edge and hurled my weapon toward the Nazi ... Or at least I tried to. My arm flew out in an impressive arc, and my hand opened to launch the deadly projectile, but the axe stuck to my palm, like a cartoon character slopped with Acme glue.

  The Nazi flinched, but when he saw the axe hang tight, a wide smile grew on his smug, little face. He leaned into whisper to Alex again, and she began to march forward, pistol held at the ready.

  I scurried behind the dumpster again, and my brain went into overdrive. Maybe I could throw something else at the little bastard. Somehow, I doubted a stray beer bottle would do much good, so I turned around, got to my feet in a crouch, and did the only thing that came to mind.

  “Sorry, Alex. Please don’t kill me when you wake up from this.”

  I shoved the dumpster hard, and the makeshift locomotive rumbled on its wheels, spinning around so it rolled lengthwise down the alley. I added my body weight and all the strength I could muster to the effort. Judging from the muffled oomph followed by a loud scream, I’d say I timed the roll by dumpstering just right. I kept pushing to prevent Alex from gaining a foothold or more importantly, to prevent Nazi from finding a clear path to her ear. The effects of my own Topside power manifested as the metal beneath my hands began to deteriorate and rust. Not as flashy as Alex’s flaming palms, but I could rust through a thin, steel plate in a matter of seconds if my emotions were running high enough. I just hoped my lack of control wouldn’t accidentally rust my hands all the way through the side of the dumpster. I didn’t stop until we hit the wall at the far end of the alley.

  “What the ....”

  The stream of curses that followed sounded like melodious music to my ears. Alex was definitely back in the driver’s seat. Even a Nazi couldn’t cuss like that.

  I spun around to scan the alley, only to be broadsided by something that felt like a cross between a breezy doorway and being hit by a Mack truck. Nazi hit me hard and went all the way through me. The disgusting, greasy feeling made me want to swallow a bottle of Drano as a spirit cleanse. My body ached, and my bones felt like they were filled with lead. But I still stood on my feet, and now Nazi had nowhere to go. He was fast, but so far as I could tell, he couldn’t fly. And now me and my Nazi burning axe were between him and his only way out of the alley.

  He sneered at me, his eyes darting everywhere for an escape as I closed in. “Not this time, pal. Looks like the Allies are going to win this war too.”

  I maneuvered around to pin him into the corner of two buildings and the side of the dumpster, then raised my axe to finish the job.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  Alex popped out from behind the dumpster and glared at me. “Was that you? I am going to ...”

  The moment she appeared, Nazi lunged for her, and I lunged for him. I brought the axe down fast and hard, but not as hard as I wanted to, now that Alex stood in harm’s way. It occurred to me that Alex only saw me swinging my arm down like a crazed-faced lunatic. If she had any hint of either the presence of the Nazi or the flaming Axe sizzling six inches from her body, she did not show it.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Alex had switched to a semi-defensive posture, staring at me with a mix of confusion and anger. “What are you doing?”

  I maintained my crazed one arm extension pose, effectively blockading Nazi’s path to Alex with my axe. I couldn’t raise my hand for a swing without exposing Alex to Nazi’s whisper charms, leaving the two of us in a sort of standoff with Alex none the wiser about any of it.

  “I ... am ... making sure you’re okay after that drunk guy pushed this dumpster down the alley.”

  I maintained my position, flicking my eyes back to Nazi every once in a while, hoping to convey that any move would be met with a sharp, fiery edge.

  Alex peeked around the edge of the dumpster to see the tell-tale hand sized rust circles in the side. “Drunk guy, huh? Why are you standing like that?”

  “Um... my back went out. I’m trying to stretch, you know. Pop it back in.”

  Alex tilted her head to the side. “Try again. We heal instantly up here. What are you doing, for real?”

  I struggled for an answer that would make sense and decided to turn the tables on her.

  “I could ask you the same thing. Are you planning to shoot me with that thing?”

  Alex peered down at her hand and seemed to recognize she held her pistol for the first time. Her eyes went to the holes in the dumpster and then back to me.

  “Gabe, tell me what’s going on, right now. What happened back there in the auditorium? Why did you throw that guy over the edge?”

  “I did not throw him over the edge.”

  Nazi flinched, and I twitched the axe, keeping him pinned in place.

  “Not what it looked like from where I stood—or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “That guy had a sniper rifle. He was going to shoot ... Well, I’m still not sure who he was going to shoot.” My eyes flicked back to the Nazi and then to Alex again. “But he would’ve shot someone. Maybe Nick. When I stopped him, he … well...”

  “Decided to swan dive off the high board?”

  I thought through the actual scenario and what it would take to try and explain what really happened then nodded. “Yeah, close enough.”

  “So why are you still standing here like the Karate Kid?”

  I cringed. “How about you don’t ask why, and I won’t ask why you were shooting at me.”

  Alex’s eyes went a little wide, but she did a good job of covering her shock. She peered down at the holes in the dumpster again and ejected the mag in her pistol, looking to see ho
w many shots were left. When she counted them, she did a less impressive job of hiding her shock. She stared at the mag for several seconds while I continued to hold Nazi at bay. At this point, my arm began to feel like a lead balloon, even with the weightless weapon.

  “This is not over.” Alex jammed the mag home, holstered her Ruger, then shouldered her way past me. “Let’s get out of here. I want out of this suit. I’m dying of heat.”

  Her shove, combined with the fatigue of my arm, turned out to be the opening Nazi was waiting for. He ducked under my slow, sloppy swing and darted past me, heading straight for Alex.

  I spun on my heels and brought my axe around, almost out of instinct. The swing was a perfect arc leveled at Nazi’s neck. I never even felt the blade hit him as his head bisected from his body. He stood so close to Alex that her blue hair wafted with the breeze, causing her to spin around in time to catch the end of my killing blow. As Nazi fell, he faded out of existence, disappearing as if he had never existed at all.

  Of course, all of this looked to Alex like I had whiffed a backhanded punch about three feet from her head. Considering her rather deadly abilities in hand to hand combat, I now feared for my life.

  “I swear this is not what it looks like,” I stammered. “Please don’t beat me up.”

  I realized I still held my arm out, and to my surprise, there was no longer anything in my hand. The axe had disappeared, and now even I could see what a lunatic I looked like with my arm in the air.

  I slapped my arm to my side, and Alex glanced down at my pants. We were standing so close before she hadn’t noticed that one leg had all but burned away. She blinked at me. “I can’t deal with any more of ... this.” She waved a hand at my body then turned to head out of the alley. “I think you’ve screwed things up enough for one day. Let’s go.”