by Tim Marquitz
No! They weren’t going out like that.
I staggered off to find them, leaving Calar and his cruel stares behind. My one last hope lay with the Eidolon. They had to lead me to Karra. If ever there was moment to prove I was nothing like Lucifer, that not all the love stories in my family ended in blood and ruin, this was that moment.
Sixteen
One Eidolon hideout nothing more than charred meat and scorched earth, I went back to the first site where Rala and Cyrill had played their destructive game of tag. Certain I was wasting my time, doubt nagging me the entire way, I was glad to see there were still a bunch of the aliens milling about when I snuck a peek from a neighboring rooftop.
The trucks were parked just where they’d been earlier, the flaps of their beds wide open. From my vantage point, I could see the metal canisters piled in the back. They were pretty close to full, so I’d gotten there just in time from the looks of it. A handful of Eidolon paced near the alley Rala had brought down, but they held their ground there, clustered together. There were a few of the strange guns disbursed amongst the group, but none of them seemed all that concerned with the actual duty of guarding. They split their gaze between the empty alley and the other aliens as they carted out more canisters, two on each tank, and slowly loaded them into the waiting trucks. There was none of the energy they’d marched into the building with at the start.
As I watched them go about their labor, a flicker of motion caught my eye across the way. A spark of orange and black appeared a few blocks away, and then vanished, only to pop up again a few seconds later. I growled at seeing it. Someone else was keeping tabs on the Eidolon just as I was, and I had a pretty good idea of who it might be. Lucy had some splainin’ to do.
I crept down the back of the building, sliding down the exposed piping that lined the wall, and made it to the ground easily enough. At the corner, I peeked around and waited until a couple of Eidolon lugged another tank out to the truck. Once all the eyes shifted to watch the pathetic aliens go about their job, I shot across the street after making sure the watcher down the way was out of sight. I made it without anyone yelling that they’d seen me.
Once there, I circled around the block, doing my best to stay casual. The fact that I succeeded probably had more to do with the lack of foot traffic in the area and the laziness of the guards than anything else.
A quick glance around the last corner confirmed my suspicions. Crouched, with her back to me, sat a little orphan alien. My hand slipped to the grip of my .45, and I pulled it free of its holster. Always a round in the chamber—against conventional wisdom—I drifted off a ways so I could circle around behind without her spotting me. Too worried about the Eidolon, she obliged me by sitting still. She waited quietly until I stuck the barrel of my gun against her head and covered her mouth with my free hand.
“Make a sound and the last noise you’ll hear is a bullet going your skull and the wet splat of your brains as they hit the wall.” The logistics of doing so and not shooting my own hand off in the process made the threat a little less believable, but nobody really listens when you have a gun to their head.
True to form, Cyrill nodded just enough to let me know she understood. I spun her around and pushed her against the wall, stepping in close as I shifted the gun under her chin and hovered menacingly. She gasped, her mouth falling open, and I felt her chest rub against me, twin points of surprise poking me in the ribs.
Boobs.
I stifled a giggle and slipped on my meanest, I’m gonna kill you face, but it was hard. The face, I mean…nothing else…yet. “We gotta stop meeting like this, people are starting to talk.”
She looked at me like I’d farted and asked her to taste it, full of confusion and growing fear.
It was best to just move on. “Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t picture these guys being real receptive to your advances after all the building-busting and whatnot. Why are you really here?”
Cyrill managed to pull it together and shut her mouth, which was good. She had a nice tongue and it was becoming distracting.
“The same reason as before,” she answered, a slight quaver in her voice that probably had something to do with the gun still being pressed against her face.
Normally I’d have felt bad about holding her at gunpoint, but there were just too many unanswered questions and whole bunch of shit that didn’t make sense. Besides, Rala had turned into a friggin’ dragon without any hint of being able to do that. Was it something all of the Felurian women could do? I didn’t know, so better safe than sorry. Unless Cyrill turned into a Fleshlight, I was gonna be doing all my investigations from the outside.
“I don’t believe you.” It wasn’t a bold statement, but completely true.
She shrugged. “Baalth sent me to infiltrate the group, and that’s what I intend to do. I might not be able to do so here, but I can follow them and look for a better opportunity to do so after they leave.”
Sigh. She had me there. “No idea what they’re doing or where they might be headed?”
Cyrill shook her head. “This is the last location we know, which is the reason I am still here.” A slight grin brightened her face. “Your companion made a mess of another site we might have used.”
“Yeah, he does that.” I peered around the corner to see the Eidolon closing the flaps on the first truck, a couple of guys lugging another canister over to the other one. They were getting ready to bail. The guards near the alley drew back to the forming group, aliens lining up in formation like they had before. The rustle of their voices filled the air.
“What are they doing?” she asked, unable to see.
“It looks like your ride is getting ready to leave.”
She squirmed against me in an effort to look around the corner, but I pressed into her to keep her in place. Yeah, that’s what I told myself it was for.
Cyrill grunted and met my eyes. “Why do you hold me here? Is Baalth not your master, too?”
“Hardly,” I said with a laugh. There was no way I would admit the old demon had puckered more than his fair share of my asshole over the years. However, given his current situation, I could honestly say I wasn’t afraid of him…much. At least I wasn’t wearing a leash.
I held a finger to her soft lips when she started to say something else. The roar of an engine pulled some of my attention from the warm, taut body quite comfortably squeezed between me and the unforgiving wall. As I pondered the possibility of alien sexual harassment laws, the first of the trucks started to creep forward. The last of the Eidolon on foot sealed up the second truck and ran to catch up to the others who had started off at double time.
No time for romance, I pushed Cyrill to her knees and dropped down behind her, pulling us both as tight against the wall as possible. She trembled against me as I held the gun to her spine.
“Stay quiet.” I hoped she wouldn’t call my bluff. One scream would be all it took to bring the Eidolon down on top of me, and I really had no intention of shooting her. I sighed inside when she listened.
The foot soldiers stomped around the corner, across the street from where we crouched, and continued on with their backs to us the entire time, moving further away with every step. One of the trucks hit the corner a moment later.
“I need to go or Baalth will be angry.” Cyrill put up a token of resistance, the pistol making it real clear there wasn’t any way I was letting her go. “Please.”
As much as I love a woman to beg, I just couldn’t trust her. Shit, I couldn’t trust anyone on this backwater dump of a planet, but definitely not her. Too many people with phoenix tattoos had tried to take my head off for me to find any level of comfort in giving her room to maneuver.
The second truck started around the intersection as Cyrill squirmed a little harder to make her point. She’d definitely made it, but I’m sure it wasn’t the one she was trying for. I adjusted the southern border and stood, keeping my hand on her shoulder to hold her in place.
The green flap of t
he truck was tied down tight, and the first truck and the Eidolon on foot were a short distance ahead, blocked from my view by the vehicle. If there was a time for action—the on the job kind, though admittedly, it could be either given Cyrill’s current position—now was it.
“I’m sorry,” I told her in my best James Bond villain voice and pulled her to her feet, gun tight against her ribs. “This is goodbye.”
There was a quiet sob as I tightened my grip on her shoulder. She tensed, and that’s when I spun and tossed her into the garbage at the back of the nearby alley. Cyrill let out a muffled squeak as she flew, tumbling into the trash. I was off and running before she even stopped rolling.
With the last truck close enough that someone would have to be leaning out the window to see me behind it, as there were no mirrors, I felt confident I could reach it before any of the other Eidolon spotted me. I grabbed its bumper and pulled myself onto it, ducking down as I looked for sturdy handholds.
Cyrill appeared out of the alley and glared my direction, but she kept her mouth shut. She dusted her sleeves and stood there until she faded from sight. It had been a good idea to follow the Eidolon to the next batch of bad guys. It just made more sense for it to be me than her.
The truck bouncing along, I loosened the ropes holding the tarp and slipped inside the bed. Hundreds of canisters filled the back. The energy they contained crawled over me as though I’d gotten cozy with a hornet’s nest. There was a lot of power packed into the back of the truck. Enough to jump start a wayward alien with a need for a recharge. I figured that was where these guys were headed.
Now, my only hope was that I had enough bullets to take out everyone before they got me. I didn’t know shit about tapping into the canisters to augment my own magic the way Gorath intended, but I’d thrown enough spray cans into the fire to know what happens when pressurized containers meet open flame.
Boom!
It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was better than the ones I usually came up with.
Seventeen
The ride was long, bumpy, and more than a little unforgiving on my tailbone. Bounce, bounce, bounce, we went, as if the damn aliens had never heard of shocks. You can build houses but you can’t squish a spring between two pieces of metal? Bastards. The canisters clanged and rattled and shifted and had me praying to the almighty God of Slow the Fuck Down.
Not only did I know what pressurized tanks did when you torched them, I also knew what happened when you manhandle one and blew the lid. Trapped in the back of the truck, the first one to pop would start a chain reaction, magically enhanced shrapnel ripping me up like Freddy Krueger’s bondage partner, and I sure as fuck didn’t know the safe word.
My eyes clung to the tanks, drifting off in spurts only to check for landmarks or hints of an unexpected stop, neither of which appeared, but I was able to determine the general direction we’d gone in. The Eidolon on foot had veered off earlier, before we’d gotten very far, actually, which was great. The two trucks left them marching about the crowded streets and had pulled out of town, leaving only about eight of the aliens for me to worry about. I’d take those odds.
The twisting and turning had stopped a long ways back and we’d been trundling along—picture a kangaroo with a pouch full of C-4—for hours. I like a good blow, but this was one I’d pass on. At least the constant throttling and panicked clenching kept me awake because the hum of the wheels was hypnotic, the soft crunch of dirt bringing to mind Janis Joplin. Who, of course, reminded me of alcohol, which only made shit worse because I didn’t have any. That sour realization having settled in about fifteen minutes into the drive, I was more than a little happy when the truck finally began to slow. And then came the paranoia.
A quick glance out the tarp gave me some hope, despite it all. We’d rolled up someplace rural, like Texas Chainsaw Massacre rural. There wasn’t anything around but a tiny cluster of worn and weather-beaten, single-story buildings and miles and miles of open, unkempt fields. I didn’t want to think about it, but this was the quintessential horror story opening. Some idiot sneaks onto secluded, private property, overly confident without ever picturing someone out here in the boonies wants to turn the skin of his face into a pair of ass-less chaps for special occasions.
Worse still, this story had the potential for a sci-fi twist. There was the definite possibility of some alien probing.
Before I could get too carried away with narrating my eventual impalement and fudge-packed demise, I slipped out from under the tarp and dropped off the bed with the truck still moving. I lay flat in the dirt until the truck pulled off a short distance, hiding me in the dust of its passage. The first one was just rolling to a stop outside the largest of the buildings as I darted for cover near the rear of the place. It looked like a farmhouse, but I didn’t see any activity or animals. They’d have been the first ones probed, I was sure.
Hidden by the wild grass and weeds that grew rampant just a short distance from the buildings, I circled around to where I could get a better look at what was going on. A soft breeze stirred the air. Other than the acrid tang of the trucks’ engines, burnt oil with a hint of exhaust, there was only the dry, dusty smell of the yellowed grass and dry dirt.
Relative silence had settled over. Muffled voices drifted to my ears along with the quick slamming of doors, but I couldn’t hear anyone beyond the Eidolon I’d rode in with. They filed into a set of wooden, double doors, which were already open, the aliens walking out of sight. There were no shouts of recognition or greeting from within, so I suspected they were the only ones around. Or maybe they were waiting on someone.
That last thought brought a lump to my throat. Eight of these guys I could handle, but if the cavalry galloped up with spurs and boom sticks, I was gonna be up shit creek without a snorkel. My gaze drifted off across the barren fields, but there was no evidence of dust trails beyond the ones we’d left behind, those drifting hazes already settling back to earth. If someone else was coming, they weren’t near yet. My stomach rumbled.
I was hesitant to let my senses loose for fear of triggering some kind of alarm or letting someone know I was there. Just because I couldn’t see anyone else, didn’t mean they weren’t lurking there, in the darkness, waiting for me so they could…
A chill kicked my imagination in its pansy ass. So far, all we’d run into were aliens, and none of them were packing enough heat to make Pamela Anderson look twice. If I was gonna do something, I might as well do it now before they figured out I was there.
Guns out, I took the scenic route around the back of the building the Eidolon had walked into only to find out there was only the one set of doors up front. So much for a strategic entrance. Outside of going through the wall, I wasn’t being left a choice that didn’t result in collateral damage and a blind entry. I couldn’t raze the place if there was any possibility Karra, or some evidence leading me to her, was in there.
Muffled voices sounded through the walls, but they were too distorted for me to understand. It did, however, offer some optimism. I was able to sort out enough to make me think all the aliens were near the rear of the place rather than by the doors. If they were huddled in back, there was a chance I could slip inside without being seen. Shrugging, for no particular reason other than it made me happy to pretend I wasn’t actually on my own, I made my way around to the front. A quick peek inside told me I’d been right. The aliens were nowhere to be seen.
I went in. Each footstep was a boom of thunder as I tried to be quiet. My ears hummed, and I could have sworn I overheard my balls arguing over which was gonna crawl up my ass first. Turned out, neither made it to the Promised Land of shit and honey. The doors slammed shut at my back, the metallic thump of steel belying the fragile looking wood of their exterior. A follow up thud sounded at my back. No need for me to turn around to realize the way out had just been bolted shut.
“It’s a trap!” Admiral Ackbar’s voice rang through my skull. There’s nothing like a Star Wars meme to usher you into
the next life.
The gloom deepened and the crunch of dirt all around me threw my presumption to the dogs. It wasn’t just the eight aliens I’d seen walk in. There were way too many shadows welling up in the darkness at the back of the room; more than I could keep track of. Fucking Cyrill. She had to have ratted me out. I should have known.
“Kill him,” someone shouted.
Lovely. Unless kill him translated into, “Buy the demon a hooker and some blow,” in Felurian, there was no misunderstanding their intentions. The shadows charged as my eyes finally adjusted, the alien forms taking shape as they closed. There were lots of them. Swords and spears led the attack. All that was missing was a pitchfork and some torches. Fire bad.
Nowhere to go, I raised both guns and emptied them with abandon. The reports drowned out everything as hot lead thumped into alien flesh. The first line of them took the bullets head on, green goo and orange pieces splattering the unfortunates behind them. Bodies slumped to the ground in the echoes of gunfire, a deafening silence settling over after. The aliens stared at me with wide eyes, feet planted as they stared down the barrels of my guns. Fortunately, they didn’t know they were empty.
That gave me the time I needed.
I pushed deep down inside and snatched at my magic while I holstered the .45’s. It welled up without hesitation, swirling about my arms and hands as I extended them toward the roof. The energy took on the shape of my limbs, two gigantic hands that shimmered with power. I was gonna have to remember this spell the next time I was alone.