Cole Blooded

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Cole Blooded Page 11

by Blaise Corvin


  Jin understood what he was seeing. Holly’s ability wasn’t only to heal; she could influence the biology of whatever she touched. Right now she was protecting herself and destroying Javier from the inside, out.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Jin thought. He felt conflicted. On one hand, this was supposed to be a game for him and Efrem, a fight between Coleslaw and Kiddy Whale. Now Holly was interfering. On the other hand, she was currently saving his bacon. Kiddy didn’t like killstealers, but he did like living.

  Holly was destroying Javier. In just a few seconds, the man was quivering, foam leaking out of his mouth, his gagged screams making his throat spasm. His eyes were lucid one last time, focusing on Kiddy, before they rolled up into his head. Blood began to pour down his chest from his open mouth.

  When he finally collapsed, or when Holly let him collapse, she guided him down gently, laying him on the jungle floor like a nurse caring for a patient. Then she stood smoothly, cool and calm as a clear summer sky, like nothing was wrong with the world.

  Jin could only watch, stunned. This potential outcome hadn’t been included in any of the scenarios he’d prepared for. All he could manage was, "Holly?"

  The pretty blonde absently wiped her hands on a wet fern to one side. The she tilted her head, looking at Javier’s corpse like she was inspecting her work. Finally, she turned in Kiddy's direction, but didn’t focus on him; she seemed to look past him. In an emotionless voice she said, "The dome wall is moving faster and it’s almost here. Once it gets here, it’ll likely speed up. You with us or not?"

  Jin swallowed, his mind racing. Now he knew for certain that this woman was dangerous. Cute and sweet Holly had just killed with the ruthless efficiency of a tiger. She could likely use her power to create bioweapons of some sort too. The implications were staggering. There was no way for Jin to quickly process it--he’d known this person for years. But marking a person as “potential enemy,” that he could understand.

  He’d been shaking, but logic reasserted itself. As soon as it did, his confusion faded and Kiddy Whale quickly replaced Jin Yamamoto again. "What did you do?" he asked.

  Holly shrugged. "A combination of things. I told his kidneys and liver to shut down, boosted some of the harmful bacteria in his body to grow exponentially faster, ordered his lungs to burst a little, that was tricky. I did a few other things to just generally break down his body, too. It didn’t take much more energy to do so, and it was a learning experience for me. But don't worry, he didn't die in pain. I boosted his dopamine levels. He died with the best high of his life."

  His mouth was still dry, but his Kiddy Whale persona helped his brain spin, processing what Holly had said. "And Efrem...Coleslaw?"

  "I helped heal him," she explained. "But what was somewhat strange and interesting is how I barely burned any energy expelling the poison. It was like Cole was already healing himself. My touch only seemed to make it go more smoothly, so maybe he has a power after all. Anyway, he will catch up soon.” Her stance shifted a tiny bit, but Kiddy noticed. She repeated, “So, are you with us or not?"

  There was no threat in her voice, no emotion. She spoke as if she was asking whether he wanted to come and chase the ice cream truck down the street or play a racing kart game with the lights off.

  The weight of the rocks in his hand drew Kiddy’s attention. He had the same problem against Holly that he’d had with Javier. If he didn’t strike from range, they take him out too. On top of that, he’d need to raise his hand to use some precious power for an attack. Holly’s abilities were powerful and mysterious enough; she might have already seeded him with some kind of supergerm. There was no way of knowing if she could kill him with a thought, now.

  As Kiddy paused, Holly frowned, a glint of disappointment in her expression. She said, "You and Efrem are the most stubborn people I've ever met. This isn't a game or a fight to the death."

  "Then what is it?" Kiddy asked, jogging away from the closing dome wall. Holly matched his jog to one side, the tension not yet broken. As they moved through the jungle, Kiddy reminded her, “You just killed a man.”

  She waved away his words. "This is an experiment by Dolos," Holly said, breathing easily as she wove through the jungle. "We are here to fight for our lives, to evolve with our power seeds. Stop looking at this like a game, Jin. Evolve or die."

  Kiddy Whale frowned at Holly, his enemy. She wasn’t totally wrong, but she definitely wasn’t right. This was a game, and that was that. Even saving the little girl, Isla, didn't really matter. There was no way of knowing if “escape” from the island would mean returning to the moment they’d left, facing the tsunami again. Only winning decided who got to live, but there were no guarantees past that. They’d all created a web of assumptions and then attached belief to it.

  He didn't say any of this to Holly. There was no reasoning with enemies.

  She must have sensed his thoughts, though, because she suddenly leapt toward him. She was a sprinter, Kiddy wasn't. He really didn’t want to drain his life force, but there’d be no end game if he didn’t survive to make it there.

  In that moment, everything became simple again for Kiddy Whale. The rules were the rules. To win, all he had to do was go through the portal. Only one could go. His gaming instincts suggested he wouldn’t be able to pass through it until the last second, but that didn’t mean getting there first was a bad thing.

  Before Holly could reach him, Kiddy made his choice. With a thought, he burned through what felt like years off his life force, quickly darting through the jungle, away from his former friends, heading in an easy, curving path toward the portal. The mental waypoint he had of its location burned in his mind.

  The only thing that mattered was the game, and games were meant to be won. After only a few bursts of speed from tree to tree, he’d left the burning dome wall, Holly, Coleslaw, and the others far behind.

  If he was lucky, he’d find something in the jungle to eat, give himself some more energy to work with. At this point, he wasn’t too picky.

  It was time to camp.

  Chapter 12

  Sheriff Satin stalked forward through the jungle. He watched Cole lead the others to chase down Kiddy, then the dome wall began to close quickly around them.

  The pastor's daughter, Isla, was the only one with Annie. They were at the edge of the large clearing behind the others. Sheriff had to trust that they would be alright. At the moment, the remainder of the insane, murderous group were a greater threat than anything else in the jungle.

  Through the jungle, he caught glimpses of a dark, disturbing fog. Ricardo. That would be Sheriff’s responsibility for this fight. He didn’t think that the others had the skill, power, or the stomach to deal with someone like the insane ex-guide. Not only that, the longer this ordeal lasted, Sheriff feared that more of his group might be lost through attrition or animal attacks. The group desperately needed to focus. Splitting their attention between the jungle and a group of killers had already been straining.

  Sheriff definitely felt older. He’d tried to play it off before, to put on a strong front, but the strain of whatever his power seed was doing to him was probably not mixing well with his older age. The younger people were adapting better, but even they were not unaffected. If he waited to deal with Ricardo, he might not be up to the task--even an hour from now.

  Ricardo needed to be put down. Annie’s safety was absolutely depending on it.

  He thought he’d closed with the madman fairly stealthily but when the cloud suddenly veered in his direction, he knew he’d been spotted. Not being able to see his enemy at all was definitely a disadvantage. The cloud was at least ten feet wide at this point too, and Ricardo could be anywhere in it.

  Suddenly, the black fog actually began to contract, and in only a few seconds, Ricardo stood there, a cocky grin on his face. Sheriff narrowed his eyes, absentmindedly twisting the spear in his hands.

  “You don’t have your machete,” said Ricardo.

  “Yup.”


  "I see you made yourself a new weapon.”

  “Yup.”

  Ricardo frowned, like he was frustrated by the simple answers. Then he smiled again, but the expression didn’t touch his eyes. “This battle is inevitable, yes?”

  “Yup.”

  This time as Ricardo frowned, Sheriff eyed his pistol. It was still in its holster, and looked like an older revolver, maybe even a .45 ACP revolver from the World War II era. The way it was holstered, Sheriff couldn’t tell if Ricardo had any rounds left or not. This would be one more thing to worry about, and he mentally filed it.

  “Fine,” growled Ricardo. “Since we both agree this has to happen, let’s let it happen. Right, Satin?"

  “Yup.”

  Ricardo snarled, and his black fog billowed from his skin, snapping back to its original size in a heartbeat.

  As the cloud surged to one side, Sheriff knew the time for half-measures was over. With a thought, he began burning through his food energy, powering his ability. Now that he was pushing, he could see almost a full second into the future. This was as far as he wanted to go, though. Anything more than this would be too disorienting to be useful. As it was, using his power was a bit like watching two televisions at once.

  His ability saved his life.

  He dodged with time to spare as a spear buzzed through the space he’d just occupied. Sheriff narrowed his eyes, grudgingly appreciating how clever his enemy had been. He must have carved an atlatl or some other spear-throwing device earlier, and laid it on the ground before concealing himself again.

  In his previous encounter with Ricardo, Sheriff’s ability had let him “see” the man inside the otherwise blinding fog, but only when he’d actually been inside it. Otherwise, he’d been able to sense impending danger, or things happening outside the fog.

  Armed with a spear and a knife, he needed to enter the sphere of Ricardo’s power, which was a disturbing thought.

  For Annie, Sheriff thought grimly. He’d wanted to leave this kind of life behind, enduring danger, violence for the greater good. One more for the road, he thought with a grin. Ricardo must have seen the expression, because Sheriff’s ability warned him in time to dodge yet another long, finger-width dart.

  Yeah, most likely a crude atlatl, Sheriff thought. The Costa Rican would likely know how to make one, and Sheriff had a friend back home who’d hunted with one. This meant Ricardo was out of bullets...hopefully. If he wasn’t, Sheriff would still be able to dodge, though...at least as long as his energy lasted to power his mysterious ability.

  Ricardo seemed to be a classic psychopath, at least from what Sheriff had seen. He’d bet that Ricardo had killed for pleasure before this experiment, or game, or whatever it was. This meant that based on his profile, he would likely feel some sort of connection, or metaphysical bond with his victims. Even if he successfully shot or speared Sheriff, he’d likely still want to finish it with that knife of his.

  Let him.

  The two began circling each other in the jungle. Sheriff warily kept an eye on the approaching orange wall, which had become so opaque, it was impossible to see the jungle burning outside of it anymore. He thought about using the burning wall to his advantage if he positioned himself correctly. Then it wouldn't matter if Ricardo was hiding in his fog, he'd burn just the same outside the wall.

  His enemy was probably thinking something similar, though.

  Their cat-and-mouse game continued as they moved through the heavy vegetation of the jungle, staying ahead of the wall, trying to put the other man at a disadvantage. While Sheriff didn’t have any ranged weapons other than maybe throwing his spear, Ricardo wouldn’t have to worry much about it anyway unless they were both in the dark cloud.

  Actually, he probably doesn’t know that, Sheriff realized. Just like he didn’t know all the details of Ricardo’s power, there was no way Ricardo could know everything about Sheriff’s. The most the murderer could have gotten from Kiddy would be that Sheriff could see a short distance into the future. Now they were both playing a strange, deadly game of chess.

  When Sheriff dodged yet another dart thrown at him, one that likely would have hit if he hadn’t been using his ability, he understood what was happening. Ricardo was trying to get a good read on his, what had Kiddy called it--precognition. In the future Sheriff had just avoided, the dart had been thrown while he’d been blinking.

  At this point Ricardo must have figured out that there weren’t any easy weaknesses to exploit in Sheriff’s ability. He was probably either out of darts, or about to be. Ricardo might have also realized that even if he could use his revolver in this fight, he likely couldn’t actually hit Sheriff.

  Sheriff figured he’d guessed correctly when he saw an atlatl-sized wooden object be thrown from the black cloud before it surged through the jungle faster, away from the approaching dome. If the real fight was coming and Ricardo was preparing for it, he’d want to be far away from the burning orange wall, at least enough not to be blindsided by it.

  Before the tsunami, when Sheriff had just been a normal man, he might have had a hard time keeping pace with Ricardo through the jungle. He’d been getting on in years, after all--newly retired. The power seed, or whatever he had inside him, might be draining his energy and his life, but he was moving like he was a few decades younger.

  Ricardo’s fog sped up, so Sheriff did too. Eventually, he was huffing, lungs pumping as he jumped over roots and dodged trees. He could just imagine how quickly Ricardo would be on top of him if he were to trip over a root or something. If he was lying on the ground, his power wouldn’t do much good.

  As it was, Ricardo was more clever than Sheriff had given him credit for. After starting down a hill, his power let him know that Ricardo was about to come around a clump of vines and trees that had been hiding him from view. The hill, the surrounding trees, they all kept Sheriff from stopping. This was really not the way Sheriff had wanted to enter the killer’s cloud, but he had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he forged ahead.

  After entering the cloud, his senses dulled and his skin felt like he’d jumped in a pool of ice water, same as last time. A split-second later, his ability warned him of impending danger about the same time as he “saw” Ricardo in the cloud. Sheriff threw himself forward and to the side, but Ricardo’s knife sunk into his shoulder. Grunting in pain, he rolled, getting to his feet as fast as possible. This close, his spear wasn’t going to be much good.

  Sheriff ran up the hill, trying to get the high ground, but Ricardo was faster. The other man had looped around a tree, beat him to the top of the hill, then came in again. This time, when the cloud touched him, Sheriff was ready.

  He jabbed forward with his crude but deadly spear. After the cloud had washed over him, he was able to see Ricardo’s panicked expression as he almost got stabbed in the throat.

  After that first exchange, they circled each other, staying within the cloud. Ricardo tried a few feints with his knife, but after Sheriff reacted both times, almost killing him once again, the psychopath must have realized that he wasn’t invisible like he had been to Cole.

  Thinking about Cole briefly made Sheriff wonder if Annie was alright, if she was safe--as safe as she could be in this jungle. Now was the time to focus, though. He hadn’t had to directly fight evil like this in a long, long time, but it was like riding a bicycle. Some things couldn’t ever truly be forgotten.

  For a short time, Sheriff jabbed with his spear, and Ricardo tried to grab it. A good strike with the spear, or losing it--both would dramatically change the fight. Ricardo seemed much more skilled than Sheriff had anticipated, with quick hands and the instincts of an alley-fighter. If they’d been fighting with guns, what Sheriff was mostly trained in, this might be a different situation. But now, even with a spear and his precognition power, Sheriff felt he was evenly matched with this madman.

  The two circled some more, like boxers in round one measuring each other, tapping gloves.

  Finally, Ricardo made a
mistake. After missing a grab on Sheriff’s spear, he sprung forward, overcommitting to try again. With a grim smile, Sheriff “saw” what was about to happen and stepped backward, carefully lifting his feet high enough to avoid tripping. Then quick as lightning, he thrust his spear for Ricardo’s gut.

  The other man blocked the strike with his arm, which had been one of the possible “futures” that Sheriff had seen. He grunted in frustration. Meanwhile, the wound on Ricardo’s arm seemed to excite the man. His mouth moved like he was talking, but there was no sound in the dark cloud. Sheriff tried not to think about the mix of powers, how he was seeing the other man as shades of light and shadow. All of this was extremely strange and confusing. Reminding himself that he was in a fight for his life and ignoring all the supernatural stuff was helping him stay focused.

  Ricardo dodged three more searching swipes from Sheriff, making a few more grabs for the spear. The Costa Rican man was definitely skilled. He didn’t move with the cat-like grace of a martial artist, but did seem to have an economy of motion that suggested experience.

  Sheriff was beginning to doubt whether he could win this fight. For the first time since he’d used his power, he felt a pressure building, and it was getting harder to see even a half-second forward in time. This is bad. Being humble or holding back wouldn’t do him much good here, in this place, but he was scared. He didn’t want to use his power to its full potential--the further he looked into the future, the more confusing it became, the more frightening. Increasing the number of visions he saw didn’t make decisions easier. The deeper he got, the more he felt like he was drowning. The problem was that for each choice he might make, he didn’t just see the consequences--he experienced them all, like living multiple lives at once.

 

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