Crimson Strike

by Peter Bostrom

  Winnifred hissed loudly as her hands suddenly grew into claws. Hands! I’d imagined armored gauntlets before, but I needed something a little bigger, or at least more vivid—something that would stick in my imagination.

  When I was younger, I’d gone through a brief phase where all I wanted to watch was Old Earth superhero vids and recreated their battles with a variety of empty boxes, stuffed animals, and automated cleaning machines. For my birthday that year, my dad printed me these giant green, wearable fists that were soft enough that they didn’t hurt him when I punched. I grew out of them pretty quickly, but I’d secretly wished that I could get a larger pair when I was teenager for smashing things when I got mad. Well, it looked like now was my chance.

  As I summoned the sinister marching music, I imagined an adult-sized pair of those over-sized, wearable fists, only this time, in my mind they were bright red.

  Winnifred stood about ten meters away, her arms extended by her sides and her razor-sharp claws spread. Behind her, what was left of the courtroom was lit by the red light of the sphere, and above, a pillar of light shone up into the brightening expanse of the biodome.

  With inhuman effort, she raised a thick section of broken window sill above her head and threw it at me where I stood. But instead of running, I reared back my left hand and swung my fist at the flying piece of building. When I struck the object, there was a small explosion and bits of window sill shot out away from me in all directions, causing Winnifred to flinch and raise her clawed hands to her face. When the air had cleared, she stared at me with her glowing red eyes and clenched her powerful jaw.

  That felt good. Really good. But I could feel my energy draining—I was going to need to wrap this up, and fast.

  After a few moments of relative silence, Winnifred hissed and began running toward me across the courtroom. I hissed back with gusto and rushed forward to meet her. When we were only a few meters apart, we both leapt. In midair, as if in slow motion, Winnifred slashed at me with her right claw. She cut easily through my fatigues as I held up my left forearm in defense. But at the exact same time, I brought my giant red right fist up into her stomach.

  The shock wave of my fist’s impact knocked both of us backward and time snapped back to normal. I flew through the air and crashed onto the courtroom’s checkered floor, sliding across it until I collided with a fallen piece of roof. I let out a loud grunt, then forced myself up onto my feet. I felt my jumbo-fists beginning to fade, so I released their image from my mind. I didn’t know exactly how much energy I had, but I needed to ration whatever was left as best I could.

  I looked up, and saw the swirling red orb, still humming away as it hung in the air. I glanced back and saw Winnifred lying on the ground next to one of the broken podiums near the courtroom’s entrance. She lay on her side, clutching her stomach and letting out a guttural groan. I thought I saw steam or smoke or something else rising from her middle, so I circled around behind her. When I saw her lower back, I gasped audibly.

  In the reddish light of the glowing sphere, I could see her exposed spine and several of her lower ribs. It looked like I’d blown a damn hole through her. Well, almost through her.

  She groaned again, then, in a hoarse voice, called out, “Please . . . help . . .”

  I couldn’t believe it. Well, maybe I could. What if she’d finally seen how heroic I really was and how much the lives of civilians mattered here? I’d trusted her before. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  Even so, I approached her cautiously. But the closer I got, the more painful her noises became, so I hurried over, caution be damned. That is, until I was about only a meter away. I finally took another look at her missing middle. I noticed a yellow light shining through the empty space, which wasn’t nearly as empty as it had been before. Aw, hell—was she repairing the damage?

  But it was already too late. She shot an arm out and grasped my ankle with her claws, cutting through the upper portion of my boots and piercing my skin. I reached my right arm behind me for balance, and as I did, I brushed against something fastened to my waist.

  It was Harold’s broken baseball bat handle. For good luck.

  In one fluid motion, I pulled it out, splintered end facing downward, dropped to my knees, and plunged the synthetic wooden weapon into her heart. Her eyes flared more brightly for a moment, then faded. She loosened her grip on my ankle and I scrambled backward a couple of meters.

  She let out a raspy chuckle, then said in a wheezing voice, “How will anyone ever trust you again? There’s nothing here for you now, warrior.”

  “Maybe not,” I said.

  I summoned the sinister marching music as loudly as I could in my mind.

  “But I’m sure as hell not going to leave anything for you. Or the Dominion.”

  I raised my Power Glove and, concentrating on the glowing sphere, sent a bright red bolt into its center.

  The sphere exploded in a blinding flash. I held my hands in front of my face to protect my eyes from the light. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a beam of light a little brighter than the others shoot behind me into the wreckage of the collapsed wall. But it was probably just a trick of the otherworldly light.

  As the sphere’s red light faded, my eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the courtroom. Winnifred let out another raspy breath and, in a voice just about a whisper, she said, “Fool . . . we will come back . . . stronger than before . . .”

  She let out one more ragged breath, and with that, the yellow light of the philosopher’s stone on her necklace finally winked out.

  38

  WINNIFRED LAY UNMOVING on the checkered floor, the black and white square pattern providing a fitting background for someone who I once thought was with me on the side of good, but who turned out to be firmly on the side of evil. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for her. And, even now, something within me felt drawn to her. Or was it her necklace?

  I’d felt this same sort of attraction with my other philosopher’s stones, and there had always been a distinctive music attached to them. I tried to still myself to listen and, there it was—the faint sound of pipe organs. But instead of reaching for it right away, I decided to watch Winnifred for another minute to make sure she was actually dead—not just undead. And every so often, I looked back at the rubble from the broken wall behind me to make sure there weren’t any more surprises for me in here.

  When I was certain Winnifred was dead and that the rubble was just rubble, I stepped up to her body and eyed the tangled necklace on top of her chest. I grabbed the pendant with my gloved hand and yanked the thin chain loose with a sharp tug. Then, with my bare hand, I plucked the dull yellow stone free from the black vulture that held it in place.

  The moment I made physical contact with the gem, the sound of pipe organs swelled and then a powerful booming sensation went off inside my head.

  That’s when I knew Winnifred’s yellow stone was mine to use. If it was no longer connected to her, and if I had been right that the other vampires’ yellow stones were all networked to hers, then maybe the werewolves they’d created using their stones would revert back to their original forms.

  I had to get outside to find out.

  I turned my Power Glove over and pressed the yellow stone into one of the empty spots Rand had created, just to the left of the red stone. It clicked into place, and all four of my gems glowed softly for a moment. I nodded with satisfaction, then turned and looked for a way out.

  A few small flickering bulbs overhead gave me just enough light to make my way out of the building. As I stumbled out of the semi-darkness toward the courthouse’s entrance, my boot struck something hard that made a metallic clang and then skittered a few meters across the floor. I thought it had just been a section of metal reinforcement, but when I glanced down at it, the faint outline of its shape tickled my memory.

  It was my rod-sword! I snatched it up off of the floor and, trusty blade in hand, I picked my way over the rubble.

  As
I approached the front door, I heard the unmistakable sound of plasma guns firing. I was definitely going to need some serious energy if I wanted to do anything besides run around and shoot a gun—if I could even get my hands on one of those at this point.

  Energy! I passed the security podium at the front and there was the row of vending machines I’d seen earlier. I didn’t have time to try and rock the machines for junk food items to fall, so, with a grimace, I kicked the first machine’s clear plexiglass panel with my heavy boot. It cracked into large, pointed pieces, and after kicking it again and picking loose a few triangles out of the way, I reached inside and scooped out a row of candied Venetian Nuts and a lukewarm carton of extra-sugared Sparkle water to wash it all down.

  The sounds of fighting continued outside as I tore open the packages of nuts and devoured them on my way back to the entrance. I chugged the carton of sweetened water, tossed it aside, and twisted the door’s old-fashioned knob. When I heaved the solid door open, a battle was raging in front of me across the shrubbery-filled square.

  Dozens of werewolves were leaping from place to place, sometimes pouncing, sometimes tearing loose benches and throwing them. Panthra was there, too. Her velvety green coat with orange stripes was tattered and torn—even more than it had been following her tussle with wolf-Kovac. She was busy batting around the werewolves who were getting too close to where Rand and Lopez were stationed, where the two were firing from behind a transport vehicle.

  I saw Stanton nearby, yelling orders to a small group of soldiers. Wait—what? I cast my eyes again across the courtyard and saw uniformed soldiers scattered halfway around the square’s perimeter. Patel was there, too, waving forward a line of Peacekeepers carrying large plasma launchers. And on the end of the line closest to the City Courthouse, in his dark green fatigues, protective vest, and helmet, stood Colonel Vaiega.

  I sheathed my sword, ran over to the Colonel, and gave him a quick salute. He returned my salute with an incredulous stare. “I figured you’d joined your ancestors after that explosion.” He gave a quick smile, then said, “Good to have you among the living.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. Then, looking at the streaks of pale blue cutting across the square, I asked, “Why the hell are they using plasma slugs? Are they out of silver?”

  Vaiega turned his head and said something into his helmet’s comm, then looked back at me.

  “We started using the silver slugs Private Rand printed,” he said, “but when soldiers started to recognize some of the werewolves as friends of theirs, they just couldn’t bring themselves to kill them.”

  The image of Kovac’s furry face sprang to mind, and I was overwhelmed by the feeling I’d had when he’d attacked me—a strange combination of terror and pity.

  “That was during the first few minutes of the battle,” Vaiega continued. “Ever since then, we’ve only been using those silver slugs as a last resort if plasma slugs can’t keep them far enough away.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud snarl as a large, steel gray werewolf with a crooked ear bounded toward us. “It’s Lautner!” One of the soldiers yelled.

  A pale blue plasma slug nailed the werewolf in the shoulder. It yelped, but kept coming. Two more slugs hit the creature—one near the first wound, and the second in the thigh. The wolf howled in pain and loped backward, away from us.

  “We trained together,” said one of the soldiers in a hollow voice, visibly shaken. Encountering these nightmare versions of their fellow soldiers was clearly taking a toll on all of us.

  I had to do something.

  I closed my eyes, grabbed my mental conductor’s baton, and listened for the faint strains of organ music I’d heard earlier when I first approached the yellow stone. There it was! I slowly gestured to increase the volume inside my head, careful not to crescendo too fast—I didn’t want to accidentally fry my brain. Especially not now, when a final battle against the Dominion’s evil forces hung in the balance.

  The organ music grew steadily louder, and I began to make out its tune—a series of descending notes, each ominous tone reverberating more loudly than the last. I opened my eyes.

  “I have an idea,” I said to Vaiega. “I need to get to a central location—like that holofountain there. Can you cover me?”

  Vaiega nodded, made a gesture to the troops behind him, and then with his gloved left hand, counted down from three.

  I rounded a low, boxy shrub and sprinted toward the holofountain in the middle of the square. Werewolves leapt after me, but were knocked away by plasma fire as I kept running. When I reached the fountain, I climbed into its center. The loud recorded sound of water helped to partially block out the noises of battle around me. This was it.

  I took a deep breath and summoned the sound of the yellow stone’s power—booming pipe organs and ominous, descending notes. I could sense the energy or life force or whatever it was throbbing within the werewolves who were around me. They felt hot—and very, very angry.

  I imagined a cocoon, the kind I’d seen butterflies come out of in nature vids at school. I took that image of a gray and prickly bundle and made it grow larger—large enough to cover the entire square. And then, gently, I stopped the music in my mind and ran it in reverse, so that the organ notes began ascending, instead. As I did this, I could feel my energy quickly draining.

  I was doing something, but it was costing me a lot. I hoped it would be enough.

  I felt again for the werewolf energies around me, and found them. As I poured more of myself into the music and the image of the cocoon, the werewolves’ energies went from hot to warm, to cool, and then, finally, to cold.

  Something had clearly changed around me. I no longer heard the sounds of plasma fire mingled with snarls and howls. All I heard now was the sound of recorded water. I stepped out from the center of the holofountain, up onto its ledge, and looked around the square.

  Soldiers gripped their weapons—some at the ready, but many were slightly lowered. Gently smoking bodies lay strewn among the shrubs and broken benches. But the bodies weren’t covered in fur—they were naked. Beautiful naked bodies in various shades of brown and of white.

  It had worked—I’d changed them all back! But something seemed off. The air was still. Too still. I stared carefully at the bodies, but after several moments, they still lay there, unmoving.

  No, no, no! I leapt down from the ledge of the fountain and ran over to the nearest body—a broad-shouldered woman with yellowish brownish skin and light brown hair. I touched her shoulder, but she didn’t respond. Then I shook her lightly and said, “Soldier? Are you okay? Soldier?!”

  I quickly placed the first two fingers of my bare hand on her jugular vein and held my breath.

  Nothing.

  I stood and looked around me in terror. I’d killed them. I’d killed them all. Just like that, with the power of my mind and the philosopher’s stones. The soldiers around the perimeter moved forward into the square and checked the naked bodies, but as my eyes darted around, all I saw were shaking heads. It was terrible.

  Then, an even more terrible thought struck me. Had I killed Kovac, too, when I reached out to change all of the werewolves around me? I had to know.

  I spun on my heel and raced through the square, down the alleyway I’d first come through, turned the corner, and sprinted back to our transports. I heard Stanton, Lopez, and Rand yelling after me, followed by the sounds of boots loudly hitting the pavement as their yelling grew closer.

  I quickly approached the transports, and a handful of militia members moved out into the open and raised their weapons. One actually fired, but missed badly.

  “Hold your fire!” Stanton shouted angrily from just behind me, and one of them cursed loudly and mumbled an apology.

  Harold stepped forward, his hair even more wild than when I’d left. A dazzling smile broke across his face and he rushed over to meet me.

  “You made it!” He said.

  “Yeah,” I said, slowing to a stop. “Thanks to your
good luck charm.”

  He looked at the empty holster by my side and frowned.

  “I . . . uh . . . it sort of got stuck in a vampire’a chest,” I said sheepishly. “I thought it would be best to leave it.”

  Harold nodded solemnly, then patted me on the shoulder. “I couldn’t imagine a better final resting place.”

  I nodded quickly, wanting to give Harold a moment, but unable to bear not knowing about Kovac. I jogged over to the cage behind the second transport.

  “How’s he doing?” I called behind me, glimpsing Stanton, Lopez, and Rand as I ran.

  “I don’t know,” Harold said, running to catch up with me. “He’s been breathing really heavily and twitching a lot since we got him in here and—”

  We reached the cage and my heart stopped.

  Kovac, massive and covered in fur, was lying deathly still on his back.

  39

  LOPEZ GRIPPED THE steering column tightly as she tore around the corner of the street in our transport. The cage attached to its back end jostled violently as its wheels hit the spattering of potholes that littered the roads in this part of Kalliste. Kovac—in all his dirty blond furriness—was still inside the cage on his back. I’d gone into the enclosure once Rand had unlocked it, afraid I had lost him. But after looking more carefully, I was relieved to discover that he was still breathing very, very shallowly. He was, however, still covered in fur and looked like he was on the brink of death.

  Stanton was in the front passenger’s seat speaking on the transport’s comm and making arrangements with HQ for our hasty arrival. Rand and I were looking anxiously out of the thin window along the side of the transport.

  “I would urge greater caution on the corners,” Rand said loudly, as we watched the second wheel of the cage touch back down onto the road.