by Rob Horner
Seeing the direction of my gaze, the young man said, "They're Converts, all of them."
My mind worked through the odd term. "Demons?" I asked.
"Not demons," Gruff Voice said. "Dra'Gal."
"It's a long story," the young man said.
"And one we don't have time for," the second woman added. "If you're Chosen like us, then get ready to fight."
"Why aren't they attacking?" I asked the young man, indicating the milling crowd of carnies and patrons inside the light.
"It's my Gift," he said. "I can make an energy that binds things together or disrupts certain signals. Their feet are bound to the earth, and the light barrier won't let them Manifest."
I looked over my shoulder. Silence had descended on the midway. Past the barricades, the horde of demons had advanced to within a dozen yards of us, but then stopped. They didn't mill about, prancing and working themselves into a frenzy, as one might expect of such wild-appearing creatures. Their raspy voices were silent. They looked like they were waiting for something.
"What the hell are they doing?" Gruff asked.
"No idea, sir," a second armed man answered, his voice a steady and firm tenor to the other man's baritone. All five of the men with rifles were now kneeling behind the closest row of sawhorses, long guns leveled over the crossbars. "Command, are you seeing this?"
My first thought was, which one of these guys had the misfortune to be named Command? My second was...oh...a code name. I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders just then.
No one answered that I could see, but the same soldier who’d asked the question now added, "Command says this is Alpha-expectance behavior. We are to keep our cameras facing forward in case an Alpha shows itself.
"An Alpha?" a third soldier asked. His voice was much higher, quavering slightly. He sounded young. "No one's seen an Alpha, yet."
"Command reports this is the third suspected Alpha, and the first to come out and engage," said the second man.
"Bully for us," Gruff replied.
"The others are in Seattle and Rome. But there should be more, over a dozen at least," the second man added.
While my head moved back and forth like a spectator sitting center ice at a hockey game, the words and their meanings trying to come together in my mind, none of the others seemed too alarmed.
"I'm ready," Gina said. "Though I could use a boost."
"I got you," the helmeted woman said.
"Thanks, Angie. I was hoping maybe the new guy could join in, too."
"Name's John," I said. "And doing that...thing with you knocked me out last time. I'm not sure I can handle it again."
"So, you're not a passive, huh?" Gruff voice asked.
"What can you do, then?" the soldier by the pen asked. "My names Ben, by the way."
"Will that...purple stuff hurt me?" I asked. "Can I walk through it?"
"No...and yes. But why would you want to?" he answered. "Just because they can't move their feet or Manifest doesn't mean they won't tear you apart if they get their hands on you."
"I'll take my chances," I said. Truthfully, it wasn't worry about being used like a battery again that made me walk toward the eerie purple light-fence. It wasn't a desire to show off for these people.
It was the boy again, the one I'd risked everything--the mission, Tanya and Crystal--to save. It was the dozens of people in there, possessed, prisoners in their own bodies, soldiers in a battle they didn't choose. Though most were carnies, I saw several children and one old guy who must have been pushing sixty. They deserved better.
"The West Post says no activity," the soldier giving all the reports said, "Entrance is clear as well. They've evacuated all the normals."
Somehow, though I couldn't see a radio or an antenna, he was communicating with other soldiers. I assumed West Post was the other side of the midway, while Entrance was exactly where it sounded like it should be. Maybe Command was there as well. How he stayed in contact was a question for another time.
I pushed my shirt sleeves up past my elbows, then passed between two of the black stanchions, wincing as the purple light washed over me. I felt nothing, and then I was through, and a sea of hands reached out for me, some grasping to hold, some closed and coming in hard like a punch, while other were open-handed and arcing, intending to slap or rake non-existent claws.
I reached out where I could, blocked what needed blocking, and accepted some hits that stung. I didn't want to swing, didn't want to hurt any of these people any more than necessary. They'd been hurt enough already. Light flashed in a near-continuous barrage, unsynchronized strobes that made everything appear to move in a herky-jerky fashion. Bodies began to fall, collapsing to the ground, or slumping against one another.
"What's he doing?" Gruff Voice asked.
"He's curing them," the second female voice answered, her voice soft with awe.
A slap lit up the left side of my face like someone laid a brand on my skin. I reached out to grab the hand that hit me, and the woman fell to the ground. Turning quickly, I avoided a punch to the chin and instead took it on the shoulder, then just as quickly reached out to grasp the man's face with my right hand, adding another strobe, and rendering him unconscious.
The people began trying to back away from me, holding their arms in close, but their fettered feet wouldn't allow them to move. Where sympathy for the trapped souls in those bodies had driven me into the enclosure, now there was only emptiness. I had no sympathy for any fear the demons might have of me. They were a pestilence that must be scourged. Their fear emboldened me, the fact that these things could feel fear gave me hope for the future, lifting me out of the fog of guilt that had settled on my shoulders back in the trailer park.
The last victim in the pen was a young girl of maybe seven or eight. She stood no taller than my waist, with long, brown hair hanging past her shoulders. A loving parent had placed two pink bows in her hair, which remained undisturbed, clipped just above her ears. She looked up at me with tear-filled, brown eyes, and in a heart-wrenching, plaintive voice which only a child can muster, said, "Please, mister. Don't hurt me."
When I reached out to touch her gently on the cheek, she tried to bite me. Easily avoiding the attack, I laid my other hand on her head. Light flashed, and then there was no one standing in the pen but me.
"They didn't like that," Gruff Voice said, referring to the demons standing thirty-some-odd feet away. The massed horde, which had been watching and waiting quietly, now lunged and snarled, agitated. I remembered a similar occurrence, the night the three of us practiced our powers on the other side of the coliseum.
"They know what it means," I said, walking back out between the stanchions, joining the others grouped up behind the barricades. The second woman--Angie? --moved over to the group, her helmet tilted like she was scanning the unconscious people with her eyes. I stared out at the demons, my eyes looking not at features, but rather for a shred of clothing, some recognizable sign that Crystal or Tanya were there, hoping to see them and praying I wouldn't.
"They're clean," the woman said.
Gruff Voice said, "Okay, so you can cure them, that just makes it more important for us to keep you off the front lines."
I looked at him, seeing a shadow of my own reflection in the thin plastic or glass of his face shield. There was enough tint to this guy's shield that I couldn't clearly see his features, just a hint of hard eyes glaring out at me. They were all looking at me.
"Gina, right?" I said to the redhead.
She nodded. "That's me, John."
"I'm Angelica," the other woman said, moving over to stand next to me. She raised a long-fingered hand, nails tapered but not painted. "I can see Chosen and Dra'Gal, and I can heal."
Before I could reply, she laid her fingertips on the right side of my face. A rush of coolness spread into my skin even as a nimbus of white light emanated from her hand. The residual sting from the other side of my face faded. The wave spread down, and everything felt...better. My sh
in didn't throb from where I'd struck the trailer hitch with my shin, my hands no longer ached from catching myself when I fell. My legs felt stronger. In fact, my whole body felt energized, zinging with energy, like I'd just woken up after a good night's sleep.
"Thanks," I said wonderingly. Then something else she'd said registered. "You can see who's...um...Chosen and who's been possessed.
There was an unseen smile in her voice as she answered, hidden behind the helmet but clear to hear. "Possessed, huh? I can see why you'd think that. But to answer your question: yes, I can tell the difference."
"Are there any...um...can you see any Chosen out there?" I waved my hand in the general direction of the massed horde.
"I haven't bothered looking, John. They're clearly Dra'Gal."
"Wait," the gruff man said. "Why would you ask that, Johnny?"
"Because two of my friends were taken."
"Were they Chosen, too?" he asked.
There was something there, something in his voice that I didn't catch at first. I just answered, "Yes."
"That's not possible," one of the other soldiers exclaimed.
"Command, we've just been informed that Chosen can become Dra'Gal. Confirm, please," the older-voiced radioman said.
"Are you sure?" the gruff man said. "Call me 'Iz," by the way. It's short for Izzard, my last name."
Angelica sucked in air through her teeth. "Damn, he's right, Iz. I can see three, no four Dra'Gal, maybe more, that have both auras. One of them is really bright."
Tanya.
"Like white and red taking turns," I said softly.
The helmet turned to look at me again. "That's right. How do you know that? And jeez, you're almost as bright as that Dra'Gal out there."
Thinking fast, I said, "When they come, your weapons will be taken from you. One of them is a telekinetic."
A burst of questions started, but I overrode them. "One of them is like you, Angelica. She can see demons and people with abilities."
"Can she heal, too?"
"I don't know. We never tried that. But we...I... cured a young man who could turn himself and others invisible. We didn't have time to get him away."
"Where was he?" Iz asked.
"Right around here," I answered. "Maybe a little farther up."
Iz looked at Angelica, one helmeted face regarding the other. "We didn't find any Chosen," she said. "Just a bunch of normals that we evacuated."
I nodded, wondering if it counted as another failure on my ledger. Would he remember being possessed before?
Something else occurred to me. "Have you guys been destroying the merchandise?"
"The what?" one of the armed soldiers asked.
"The prizes," I said. "The pictures and stuffed animals."
"Why would we do that?" he asked.
"Can you see them?" I asked Angelica. "Look over there, at that Guessing Game, or at the Ring Toss."
"I see the games," she said, "what about them?"
"Look at them like you look for...what did you call them? Draggal?"
"Dra'Gal," she replied, emphasizing the second syllable. "And holy hell, it all glows, Iz."
"It's how they're spreading," I said, "using the prizes to get new converts."
Iz grunted, a sound which didn't tell me anything about what he thought of the news.
"What's your ability?" I said, turning to the last man without a rifle, a tall guy who, like Angelica, hadn't removed his helmet. The skin on the back of his exposed hands was dark, a rich chocolate color.
"Name's James," he said. "I...um...I can electrify things." As emphasis, he raised his hands, holding them about a foot apart with the palms facing each other. Electric sparks began to course between them, back and forth, like the streams of blue light seen between the prongs of a Taser. Remembering the streaks of lightning we'd seen as we watched from behind the Haunted House, I figured he was capable of much more.
After James, the other four, armed men seemed to think I was all right. No one else came to shake my hand, but at least I had names to go with the voices.
"My friends call me Little Jack," the largest man said.
"I'm Bart," said another.
Rich was the name of a third.
"Call me Fish," said the man with the older voice, the one who somehow managed to keep one ear on our conversation and the other tuned into some radio channel no one else could hear.
"Look alive, people," Iz said suddenly, pointing out to the midway. "Something's happening."
Gina slipped her helmet back on, becoming another faceless soldier, recognizable only be her short stature, just as James could be recognized by his height, and Little Jack by his girth.
The five men with rifles assumed kneeling positions behind the barricades, all business once more. Maybe they weren't professional soldiers, maybe they were--with my limited experience in the matter, there was no way for me to tell. They looked like they knew what they were doing, and their projected confidence calmed my fears somewhat.
"Keep watching for red forms coming," I said.
"I can see them all out there," Angelica hissed back.
I shrugged. "Look, it's obvious you can turn your power on and off. My friend couldn't. And that saved our butts...twice. I already said one of those demons might be able to make himself and others invisible. But even invisible, we could track them by their glow."
"You make it sound like you could see them, too," she noted.
"I could. Crystal could share her vision, if she held your hand."
"It's clear," Angelica said after a moment, her voice a little softer.
"It won't be for long," Iz said, pointing.
Out on the midway, the demons seemed to have gotten over their anger at my display of power. They'd quieted but were starting to move again.
"Get ready," Iz warned.
But his words were unnecessary. The horde wasn't coming at us. They were shifting sideways, almost forming ranks against the edges of the midway, clearing a path.
"Guys," Fish said, his voice tense. "Something's wrong at West."
His report came seconds before the chatter of automatic weapons reached us, interspersed with a weird kind of hum which swelled and receded like a gnat that dive-bombs your ears over and over again. It was coming from the other side of the midway. The gunshots echoed in the darkness so that it sounded like twice as many weapons firing. A couple of the men at the barricade started to move, lifting their guns and turning in place.
"Hold here!" Iz ordered, and the others stiffened.
"Is that--?" Gina said.
"Holy hell, the glow," Angelica whispered.
I followed Gina's pointing finger, looking out at the demon ranks, as something walked through them, something tall, cowled in darkness, yet moving stately, serenely, a master in his own domain.
"They came out of nowhere," Fish said. "Demons just appearing among them."
The gunfire behind us stopped, replaced by a scream of fear of anguish, no way to tell if a man or woman made the sound.
"West is lost," Fish said. "Entrance is standing ready in case we need some cover."
The thing marching toward us towered over the demons flanking it, easily ten feet tall. It stopped at the front rank, and I could feel its unseen gaze scouring us, like the hot breath of a dragon scorching the air even from a dozen yards away. Watching the men and women near me, it was clear when its eyes fell on them. Everyone shied back or ducked their shoulders. Iz made the sign of the cross. It was instinctive, I think, a regression to the days before man became the apex predator, when we huddled in caves at night and feared the dinosaur and the saber tooth.
"Crap," Fish swore. "Entrance says the force is coming at our backs."
The Alpha demon raised a robe-shrouded hand in our direction.
With a deafening roar, the demons charged.
Chapter 33
Burn baby, burn
Iz shouted something which I guess the others heard. It was lost to me in the raucous sc
reeching of the advancing horde. Maybe those helmets also acted as a two-way radio. I'd seen the blue lights winking from inside; there had to be more to them than just a futuristic look. Angelica and Ben both stepped up beside Gina, who hadn't yet created her wall. The five, armed men steadied their weapons over the barricades.
Iz held up his right arm, fist closed.
The demons came closer, down from a dozen yards to twenty feet.
Closer still.
Iz dropped his fist.
The soldiers fired...something...it was hard to see. That buzzing hum flared again, coming from the rifles. Balls of glowing purple light spat out of the strangely shaped upper barrels. The light started at the base of the barrel, near the stock, then wrapped around it, following the circling ridges, until it collected at the barrel. The projectile launched at the instant the lights coalesced at the bore. It wasn't instantaneous, like pulling the trigger on a regular rifle, but it still took less than a second for the shot to ready.
Its effect was even stranger.
Whenever a demon--Dra'Gal, whatever--was struck by one of these glowing spitballs, the light splattered, sticking to the demon's body in a pattern strongly reminiscent of a paint ball hit. The demon stopped all motion, feet adhering to the concrete. Its forward momentum caused it to topple, and it was already transforming back to human before it hit the ground.
No matter how quickly the men fired, it wasn't going to be enough. There were too many, coming too fast.
Gina raised her arms, and the white wall shimmered into being. The other two Chosen joined their power to hers, strengthening the wall, making it brighter, pushing it wider. The soldiers continued to fire their weapons, the purple streaks penetrating the wall from our side without any obvious decrease in their speed, range, or effectiveness.
"Remember to curve it," I shouted, as the demons began to spread out along the surface of the wall, heading for the edges.
"Oh, I remember!" Gina shouted back. "Watch this!"
The edges curved back and away from us and, amazingly, the wall began to move, driving the enemies back. It wasn't a fast-moving bulldozer blade like the last time, but it still served its purpose, increasing the space between demons and humans, giving them more time to use their purple goo weapons.