Crossroads, page 2
part #1 of Hollow Island Series
Instinct and a decade of MMA training took over and Nash brought his free hand into the temple of the lunging Snake, stunning him momentarily. As Nash took a step back to bring his gun up, two flashes of sparks came from the Wizard, who was also moving toward them. One bolt bit Nash on his gun wrist. Instantly his arm from the elbow down was dead. Not tingling or asleep, but completely lacking feeling as if he’d never had a forearm. His gun fell to the ground and he heard John Wayne’s gun clatter against the street as well.
That certainly made the fight more interesting.
The Wizard went for John Wayne as Nash grabbed the stunned Snake’s forearm, using it to spin around behind him and wrap one arm under the chin. Rear naked choke, one of the most advantageous positions in mixed martial arts, and a move you could pull off passably with only one and a half working arms. Even better, with Nash on the Snake’s back, the weird creature didn’t have a chance to use those nasty fangs, which were probably poisonous.
The skin wasn’t tattooed after all; it felt exactly like snake scales. Whatever this guy was, he’d gone through some significant genetic engineering to get to this point.
The Snake tried to wriggle free. His motions were quick and almost boneless, but Nash had too much experience locking in the hold.
Nash sunk his hand deeper into the fold of his free elbow and squeezed. In less than six seconds, the Snake would be unconscious and Nash could cuff him then help John Wayne with the Wizard. The cobra pattern on the Snake’s bald head was eerily realistic, and it looked like the false eyes were blinking at him.
That wasn’t his imagination! Two dark pits had opened in the back of the Snake’s head. Nash couldn’t look away from the strange sight. He squeezed tighter, hoping to incapacitate his enemy and get away quickly.
A burst of green liquid shot from each eye pit, splashing across both of Nash’s eyes and half his face. Fire erupted across Nash’s entire world, and his eyes burned like they’d been plucked out, injected with flesh-eating acid, then reinserted.
A scream of pain tore from Nash’s throat and he lashed his head back and forth trying to clear the stinging as if he could shake the venom from his face. The pain was more excruciating than anything he’d ever experienced, but he didn’t release his grip.
Nash wasn’t sure if the sound of sizzling skin was his imagination or if the venom was in fact eating away layer after layer of skin and eye tissue. If Nash’s hands were free he would use his fingernails to scrape all the skin off his face and rip his own eyeballs out.
The Snake went limp. The sensation of having someone pass out in a chokehold wasn’t unfamiliar to Nash, though in competition and sparring, his opponents almost always tapped out before getting that far.
Nash let the man fall from his grasp, then went to his knees and raked his sleeves across his face. Thankfully, removing the venom from his skin caused the burning to subside slightly, but there was little he could do about his eyes. Hollow Island didn’t have eyewash stations conveniently located wherever chemicals were used.
Fresh pain burned through Nash’s eyes as he blinked to try to clear the venom. The world was entirely black. Even his titanium eye wasn’t giving him anything. It must have gotten fried by the acid just like the real eye. Nash imagined one short-circuiting eyeball and one scarred, shriveled eyeball peering from his own sockets. The pain burned from both sides and he kept blinking against it. If he had any hope of ever getting his vision back, he needed to clear the poison from his eyeballs.
Footsteps approached from the direction John Wayne and the Wizard had been. They were unhurried, which gave Nash hope that John Wayne had subdued the Wizard and could help him cut off all of his face skin and gouge his eyes out to make the pain stop.
“I told you there was nothing to see, Ranger,” spat the Wizard, close enough to Nash’s head to let him know that John Wayne was out of the fight. “Now you’ll never see anything again.”
Nash raised his hands in a defensive sparring position to protect his head. As soon as the Wizard spoke again, Nash would lunge and rely on his grappling skills to either choke out the Wizard or break both of his arms. It was long odds for sure.
Maybe there was a chance they could all get out of this without any more fighting.
“Let’s call this a draw,” said Nash. “In fact I’ll give you the TKO. Just get your Snake and walk away.”
The evening was silent and dark. Both eyes felt as if someone had held them open, sliced them with a dull knife, then poured lemon juice in them. Distant market sounds reached the alley, so he knew his ears worked. Had the Wizard taken the offer and left?
Something hit Nash in the gut, hard, like a baseball bat. Nash found himself curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach, trying to breathe and trying to not vomit at the same time. That was a kick, he realized.
As Nash blinked, he thought he could see a faint glow if he looked into the sky. Maybe he wouldn’t be completely blind for the rest of his life.
A dark shape blocked the brightness in front of his face. When Nash felt like the man was in range, he struck out and landed a glancing blow with his fist.
A cough and a chuckle. From a different angle, the Wizard said, “You have some fight in you.” He kicked Nash in the ribs, sending him flipping around onto his side.
Nash either had to grab the man and subdue him or get his gun back. Doing a quick and dirty approximation of where the gun fell and where he was now, Nash scraped his hands along the asphalt in search of his weapon. At any second, another kick would come. Nash would grab hold for everything he was worth.
His hand brushed against something metal and he dove on it with both hands. Hopefully it was his own gun and not John Wayne’s. Guns were biometrically imprinted and could only be used by the Ranger who it belonged to.
Both hands wrapped the gun and as Nash brought it around in the direction he thought the Wizard was standing, a kick hit him in the wrists and sent the gun flying, too far to go after at the moment. Nash’s only hope was grappling, so he dove in the direction of the kick.
It was a perfect lunge. Nash wrapped both arms around the Wizard’s thighs.
Ideas flashed instantly through Nash’s mind.
Gouge an eye, rip his balls off, break his neck!
His body was already moving, acting according to the reflexes he’d honed. Nash lifted the Wizard off the ground over his shoulder. He would slam the man to the ground so hard, there would be a Wizard-shaped indentation in the asphalt.
“Enough,” said the Wizard with the authority of an incantation.
Nash felt a pinprick in his neck. His entire body lost sensation and he collapsed to the ground like a marionette with cut strings. The Wizard landed on top of him. Nash only knew that because his face was pointed in that direction and he saw a dark shape push off and detach itself.
At least the pain was gone completely, gloriously. Nash’s eyes were open but he couldn’t even move his gaze. Completely paralyzed. The roof of a building was outlined against the faint swath sky behind it.
So much for taking his time and learning the ropes of Hollow Island.
2
Stupid Overpowered Ranger
<< 39 – Number of distinct Castes confirmed to date.
- hollowisland.com/stats >>
A thousand times in his life, Nash and his sister had been helpless children, shuffled around the foster-care system, completely at the mercy of the bureaucracy. Lying on the street of Hollow Island at the feet of an enemy felt like every powerless moment of his life so far compounded into a single instant. At least his sister was somewhere far away on Hollow Island, and not right here suffering with him.
The outline of the tall Wizard loomed over Nash, all shadows and silhouettes. “I don’t like you!” He punched Nash in the face. From the jarring changes in vision, Nash assumed his head bounced on the pavement, but again he didn’t feel a thing.
The man circled him, staring down. “Stupid—” he kicked Nash somewhere below chest level. “Overpowered—” another kick, probably in side, “Ranger!” He kicked Nash in the cheek sending his head flopping around again.
The world spun and he thought he’d pass out, but there was no pain at all. It was like watching some special effects from faraway on the hollows, and for a moment, Nash wondered if he’d dreamed the whole, short Ranger adventure. When the world came back into focus, Nash discovered his head had lolled to the side, facing the rising form of the Snake. He could still only make out forms, but the lithe shape of the Snake man was easy enough to identify, and he imagined the Snake man shaking off his own stars.
So this is how it ends. That Snake is probably going to unhinge his jaws and swallow me.
One hour had to be a new record for a Ranger failing on Hollow Island. At least he wouldn’t feel a thing as long as the paralysis didn’t wear off.
The larger outline went toward the smaller, skinnier outline and helped him the rest of the way up. “I’ve never seen anyone take you down, much less dominate you like that. The Mongoose, that’s this Ranger’s new nickname.” His tone was slightly awed, slightly mocking. He knew the battle was over and was having fun with his buddy at this point.
The Wizard and Snake turned their heads toward Nash. The Snake opened his mouth and a series of susurrant sounds came out.
The Wizard seemed to understand the general idea. “How hard did I hit them? The cowboy will be down for at least ten minutes. I freaked a little and gave the kid everything I had left. If he ever walks again he’ll be lucky, and he won’t do it without a limp.” He kicked Nash somewhere on the leg. “Look. He pissed himself. Been a while since I made someone do that. Buggered his nervous system for sure.”
Never walk again? And on top of it all, he’d pissed himself for the whole world to see. This day just kept getting better and better.
The Snake said something else in his slurred manner.
“The kid, I mean, the Mongoose I’ve never seen before,” answered the Wizard, walking out of Nash’s view. “That old Ranger, the cowboy, he’s got some enemies. We’ll make some money off of him.” When he came back into Nash’s view, a coil of rope hung from one blurry arm. “Here, you do that handcuff knot in one end and I’ll do it in the other.”
More words came from the Snake man’s mouth.
“No, I don’t want to use their handcuffs,” said the Wizard. “If the keys turn out to be imprinted to them specifically, it will make it tricky down the road. Just tie this.”
Nash wanted to close his eyes and take a few breaths while they went to work on the rope. He still couldn’t tell if they were going to kill him, eat him, or just let him lie here in a heap until he starved to death. He didn’t want to roll over and die, but all the fight in the world wouldn’t do him any good if he couldn’t so much as move his eyelids.
Okay, Nash. Time to use your endowment.
With glaring clarity, he realized he should have asked back in training when they’d made him a Jennie how to make it kick in. Every Ranger was genetically modified in one unique way, given one gift that set them apart. He suspected John Wayne’s quick, accurate shooting was due to his endowment.
Speed healing. Possibly the best endowment Nash had ever heard of, and according to the scientist who’d modified him, he was the first immigrant to receive it. He didn’t mind being the guinea pig for a chance to be able to heal at two or three times what unmodified people could.
The problem was, he had no idea if it actually worked. Or if he was supposed to do something to make it kick in. They’d only finished his genetic modifications a few days before he immigrated, and he hadn’t had any injuries since then to try it out on.
Maybe the modification was a bust, and didn’t take with him. Maybe nerves, which were so hard to heal to begin with, wouldn’t heal at all. Just because he healed fast, didn’t mean he could heal from anything.
It felt like his eyesight was improving. Everything was still blurs and edges, but a couple minutes earlier, he couldn’t even see that much. He saw the shape of the Wizard finish tying his end of the rope and go to help the Snake.
More slippery sounds came from the Snake. It sounded like a question.
“Don’t take him beating you so hard,” the Wizard said. “We win in the end.”
More words from the Snake.
“You’re one sick bastard,” said the Wizard, his face turning toward Nash. “Fine, you can have one finger, but I’m not watching you eat it. Makes me want to puke.”
His finger? The Snake wanted to eat his finger? Somehow that almost sounded worse than just dying a simple, painless death. He still felt no pain, and had no body control.
The Wizard made a gesture in John Wayne’s direction. “I’m going to tie up the cowboy first. The Mongoose isn’t going anywhere, so you tie up the girl.”
The Snake’s tone was whiny as he dragged one end of the rope they’d been working on toward where Chiel was lying. From his tone, Nash assumed the Snake wasn’t happy with just one finger. He shuddered to consider.
Try it, he told himself. Move something. First a finger, then your fists.
One finger. He could try that. One of his hands was twisted under his body. Nash focused on the index finger of his right hand, the trigger finger. Channeling all of his will into that one digit, Nash let out a mighty mental yawp. It was like trying to deadlift a thousand pounds and he continued shouting his battle cry as he thought of the finger’s fate if he failed.
The thousand-pound weight came off the ground one millimeter. It twitched. His finger twitched!
Tingles came next to that finger, the same as a limb waking up from a dead leg. He tried again, pushing against the unmovable weight, and the finger twitched again.
He checked his enemies and found them still arguing over the best way to tie the knots.
Hands wouldn’t do him a lot of good if he didn’t get his feet under him. Repeating the process, Nash pushed with all ten toes, digging into the blackness of the impossible wall that separated him from body control.
The toes sprang to life, in the same way plants push through the soil in spring. It was mild, yet miraculous.
Then came the pain. All ten toes zinged with electricity. Wiggling them again made it worse but it was all he could do.
Legs next. Nash dreaded even trying it. Before he could overthink it, he tried to bend both legs at the same time. If Nash had been watching his legs, he didn’t know if he would have noticed the movement with his eyes, but he knew in his heart that he had moved them.
A million angry scorpions jabbed their stingers into Nash’s legs at the same time. He was glad he couldn’t cry out, because if his vocal cords weren’t paralyzed, he would have filled the street with a roar to equal the venom-in-the-eyes roar. Usually if Nash held still when an arm or leg fell asleep, it could wake up in peace without the electric-shock torture, but not this time. Tears clouded the already blurry images in his eyes as the electrifying sensation faded slowly
He tried moving his toes again, and found that they all moved how and when he wanted them to.
The lightning bolts traveled on their own across Nash’s hips and gut, then sent shocking tingles along his spine and out across his arms. The electric needles reached Nash’s chest and he just wanted to die. The scorpion pricks in his legs had subsided, but everywhere else still felt like it was in the electric chair. His chest spasmed, forcing a few choppy breaths out.
The Wizard was still crouched over John Wayne. He was making large tugging motions as if the ropes were in place, and the knots just needed some good tightening.
Nash had to act soon, but there was a chance he’d eat asphalt if he tried to stand. It was now or never while he had the element of surprise and his opponents both had their backs turned. Unfortunately he had to do it all while still half-blind.
Nash forced his arms to work, pushing himself up to all fours. The pins and needles returned with a vengeance, firing against every square inch of skin like a pincushion exploding inside his body. Nash gritted his teeth, hoping the sound of them grinding didn’t alert the Wizard. The worst of it passed and Nash rose shakily to a standing position.
The Wizard was about three meters away, bending over John Wayne and doing something Nash couldn’t make out. He lurched forward as quietly as he could, stopping briefly to bend and snatch up John Wayne’s gun. He couldn’t shoot it, but it would still give him leverage.
The smart thing to do would be to cold-cock him before he saw it coming. That could kill a man, and Nash still thought he could end this without going that far. He’d been on the island an hour. He was determined to make a difference, but not by going around blowing people’s heads off or cheap-shotting them to death.
The Wizard started talking casually as he wrapped John Wayne’s wrists. “The Mongoose.” He laughed derisively. “And here you were ‘The Viper, too fast for the eye to see.’” He laughed some more and turned his head back toward his buddy. “You owe me a few rounds—” Sunlight hit his face as he froze and it looked like his eyes crossed, trying to focus on the barrel of the gun.
“I have a few rounds for you here,” Nash forced out. “And you’re going to get them if you don’t put your hands behind your back. Slowly.”
Sudden nausea made Nash feel as green in the face as he was on the island. He put his hand on his gut, feeling like he’d lose the small lunch he’d eaten on the ferry ride.
And there was the weakness that had been engineered into him along with his endowment. He had this feeling to look forward to for the rest of his life with every lie he told, such as telling the Wizard he was going to get shot with a gun Nash couldn’t shoot.
The Wizard’s confident façade had fallen. “How the hell are you—”
