Shadow Box, page 19
“Such as?” Brigid urged.
“Take, drag, pull, push this creature to a parallax point,” Grant suggested rapidly.
“And then what?” Kane asked.
He saw that Rosalia was leading a charge at the huge creature, flanked by two bandits holding flamethrowers. The flamethrowers spit at the dark-skinned monster, riddling its body with fire, slowing it for a few moments. Then it stepped forward once more, a flaming arm reaching for the nearest of its attackers, pushing him backward by the face until he crashed to the floor, screaming as Rosalia ducked the thing’s other swinging arm, leaping to one side and rolling across the floor. Kane knew what would happen next—the man’s eyes would begin to lose their color and he would start to babble that hideous, nonsensical torrent of words before expiring.
“I’ve got it,” Brigid said, realization in her tone.
Kane spun, looking at her as they crouched by the crates, close to the high ledge that Grant had originally landed upon when he had entered the cavern almost an hour before. “What is it, Baptiste?” he asked.
“Cerberus,” Brigid said, a playful smile on her lips. “We’ll take it with us to Cerberus.”
“So that it can kill everyone there?” Kane asked.
Over the Commtact, Domi’s voice said something similar, only more specifically referring to her lover Lakesh’s ultimate fate at the creature’s hands.
“We won’t give it a chance to attack anyone,” Brigid explained. “We’ll knock it out first.”
“Baptiste,” Kane wailed, “bullets are having zero effect on that thing—nothing seems to be able to stop it. How the devil are you planning on knocking it out?”
“You’ve forgotten about Domi’s attack with the chariot,” Brigid chided him. “It ran after she hit it with that—ran away from us.”
“So, what did you have in mind?” Kane urged.
“Sandcat,” Brigid told him. “We’ll drive that freak to wherever we need it.” And then she showed Kane what she meant, miming by using the TP-9 handgun as a projectile, pushing at her open palm.
“You are utterly insane,” Kane told her.
Grant’s voice piped over the Commtact then, as he tried to make sense of the conversation as best he could. “What’s her plan, Kane?” he asked. “I’m not seeing a lot of other options open to us just—” He stopped in midsentence, and Kane saw Grant appear from across the cavern, unleashing a stream of bullets at the creature as he ducked its swinging clawed arms.
One arm slashed through the air, just sweeping over Grant’s head, missing him by a fraction of a inch before it drove onward and into a crate marked Paquerette Dresses in military-styled lettering. The crate collapsed in on itself as the monster’s arm slashed through it, and a cloud of white powder burst forth.
The creature bellowed its angry wolf-parrot howl and turned its head slowly, smoldering eyes searching for a target.
As Kane watched from across the cavern, Tom Carnack’s head popped up from behind another crate, and the man began shooting at the creature from a long-barreled revolver.
“No, Tom,” Kane muttered under his breath. “Just run. You won’t…”
Even as he said it, Kane saw the inevitable. The creature lunged ahead, its mighty arms sweeping forward, grabbing the brigand leader by head and leg and pulling him from the ground as he continued to shoot the blaster.
“Let go of me, you ugly bastard,” Carnack yelled, pumping shot after shot into the monster’s face until his gun clicked on empty.
The creature lifted him higher, and then everyone in the cavern heard Carnack’s rising shriek, a tortured, hideous sound. Having caught up with Grant, Kane and Brigid watched as the monster twisted Carnack, bending his body in two directions until, finally, the brigand’s body tore apart at the waist, a fountain of blood spewing forth. And, through it all, Carnack continued to scream until his voice gave up.
Brigid looked away, biting her lip as the screams echoed through the cavern, and she heard Grant mutter something beneath his breath.
“And now, we are in trouble,” he said.
As the creature continued its rampage, tossing the few remaining brigands aside with mighty sweeps of its arms, Brigid turned to Kane, her voice taut with emotion. “Nobody deserved that,” she said. “Not even a murderous piece of crap like Tom Carnack.”
Kane nodded, his eyes watching the monster as it darted toward the center of the cavern, where the thick pipes bubbled.
“Damn,” Grant said, tracking the thing with his Sin Eater.
“What is it?” Kane asked.
“It’s heading for the lab,” Grant told them.
Chapter 14
The boy, Benqhil, sprinted across the desert, kicking up plumes of sand in his wake. He had watched from his high perch as the massive creature came bursting through the cavern wall, seemingly oblivious to the hail of bullets launched at its body, and brushing aside the heavier artillery like so much dust. When he saw it do that, Benqhil had chosen to retreat. Tom would not expect him to stay and fight; Benqhil was a messenger and lookout, not a warrior. One day, yes, a brave in Carnack’s brotherhood, a man. But not this day.
Becoming a man was important to Benqhil, and he had learned much from observing the older members of the gang. They had shown him how to load and fire guns, how to stand up for himself, how to knife fight and how to walk tall through the shadow-filled alleyways of Hope. But, he realized as he ran from the hidden cavern, having wormed his way up the incline and through the tiny aperture that ran between the two strips of rock like an island amid the sand of the desert, the thing that really turned a boy into a man was the simple act of surviving long enough to become one.
KANE TURNED to Grant as the creature continued its journey toward the bubbling pipes and cluttered worktables of the fenced-off laboratory.
“Is that stuff explosive?” Kane asked.
“Not sure, but I do know that the interphaser’s there,” his partner growled.
At his side, Kane looked all around, trying to see an opening in the furious attack on the creature that he might use to reach the laboratory area. Even as he looked, the monster lurched into one of the tall columns of luminous fluid, toppling the pillar with a slashing arm, bony protrusions scraping across the glass until it broke. The creature stood there, blocking the route for either Kane or Grant. Kane cursed as Rosalia and a group of the remaining brigands took up positions, blasting their weapons at the brute, hemming it in.
Engaging his subdermal Commtact once more, Kane sent an order to Domi. “Domi, are you able to reach the lab area, close to the hostile?”
“What’s on your mind, Kane?” Domi’s bright voice asked.
“Interphaser’s there,” Kane explained.
“So is the hybrid DNA,” Grant added. “Two small metal flasks.”
Even as Grant said it, the petite albino woman was leaping across the cavern through the hail of bullets, ducking and weaving as the brigands continued to swarm at the monstrous figure in the center of the underground cave.
“I’ll get it,” she promised over the Commtact, her lithe form an alabaster blur as she sprinted and leaped to the laboratory section like a bouncing ball of white lightning.
A moment later, the albino warrior was within the cordoned-off lab, barely six feet from the dark skin of the monster’s back as she searched the work surfaces for the interphaser and its carrying case. The monster spun, howling at her as it swung its mighty arms, and Domi veered to one side, leaping from the path that the creature’s limbs slashed through the air. Bullets ricocheted from its hard carapace as it observed Domi’s swiftly moving white form, and it flicked them aside as it howled at her, that awful, low-note caterwauling.
Grant looked across to Kane and Brigid as the three of them walked in unison, reeling off shot after shot at the monster alongside the brigands.
“Domi’s too close—she’s going to need a distraction,” Brigid told Kane.
Kane’s eyes flicked around him until he spotted a fallen brigand who was howling mumbo-jumbo in a strained voice. The brigand still held a flamethrower, the gasoline pack strapped to his back.
Kane sprinted across the cavern, pumping a single shot into the brigand’s forehead. He was dead anyway; this was nothing more than a mercy killing now, Kane knew. Swiftly, he pulled the fuel cylinder from the dead brigand’s back, standing it on the uneven, rocky ground as he hefted the lance of the flamethrower itself in both hands, his Sin Eater resheathed in its wrist holster. With a low thrum, the flamethrower kicked into life in Kane’s hands, and he dowsed the creature and the worktables around it with fire.
The monster turned to Kane, its head held low. The flames danced around it, and for a moment it seemed stunned. Then it moved, swishing its huge arms outward as it moved with incredible speed, knocking into six of the remaining brigands, toppling them over like tenpins.
Across from Kane, Grant and Brigid split up and fired continuously at the hulking brute as it surged forward, their bullets hitting its armored body before zipping off in all directions.
Kane held down the activation stud on the flamethrower, playing the jet of flame over the creature and the closest edge of the lab. “You found them yet, Domi?” he said into the Commtact.
Domi stood in the laboratory, her feet splashing in the pools of spilled liquid where the great tubes had been destroyed. The liquid at her feet was catching fire now, a wavering trickle of flames playing across its reflective surface the way that flame will run across the surface of alcohol in a glass. She had found the familiar triangular unit of the interphaser, knocked over but otherwise undamaged, tucked beneath a large glass magnifying plate that had obviously been used to study it prior to the creature’s arrival. Domi searched around for the metal carrying case, finding it in a cupboard below the worktable, the cupboard door snapped from its hinge. Carefully, Domi replaced the precious device in its padded carrying case, snapping the locks shut.
“Got it,” she assured Kane over the Commtact. “Just gift wrapping it now.”
As Domi spoke, there was a burst of flame across the other side of the lab, and she automatically leaped to the side. A metal canister popped open where Kane’s flamethrower attack played over its surface, firing gunk everywhere.
“I think you just found one of the flasks of soup,” Domi added as she made her way from the burning laboratory.
As Kane let go of the flamethrower’s activation stud, allowing the unit to cool for a moment before he continued the attack, he saw the monster’s fist shoot out, caving the skull of a bandit who was trying to hold it off with a shotgun. At the man’s side, Rosalia fell to avoid the creature’s next attack.
Engaging the flamethrower’s activation stud once more, Kane played the flames over the creature again, waving the wand up and down, left to right, keeping the steady stream of fire spitting forth. As he did so, he spoke into the Commtact. “Grant, I need you to start the Sandcat,” he explained. “It’s our best chance.”
“Acknowledged,” Grant said, running across the cavern toward the shadowy area that led to the wide exit tunnel.
“Everyone to the ’cat,” Kane added after a moment. “Maybe we can drive the hostile where we need it.”
Brigid Baptiste was at his side now, reeling off shots from her TP-9 pistol as he held the creature back with the stream of fire. “I thought you said this plan was utterly crazed,” she reminded him.
The flamethrower in Kane’s hands sputtered and died, and he tossed it aside as he spoke to her. “It is, but I trust the planner, Baptiste.”
Smiling, she shook her head, her red tresses swinging to and fro as she laid down covering fire while Kane recalled his Sin Eater instantaneously to his hand.
They were close to the far wall now, where Grant had first entered the cavern, and Brigid pointed to the high ledge. “Higher ground?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Kane.
“Read my mind,” he agreed, covering her as she ascended the slope.
DOMI LEAPED over the blood-spattered bodies of dead brigands as she dashed across the cavern, carrying the interphaser in its protective metal case. As she ran, she noticed Smarts lying there, his face drenched in scarlet, a vicious wound across his skull. The man looked dead—had to have got caught in the cross fire. Shame, Domi thought.
Even as she thought it, Smarts’s arm snaked out and his hand clutched Domi’s ankle as she was running past, pulling her down to the ground with him.
Domi kicked behind her like a mule, an automatic reaction to being caught, but Smarts avoided her swift attack. As their eyes met, the wily Mexican produced a tiny blade, perhaps three inches in length, from his sleeve and jabbed it at her.
Domi kicked out again, her foot connecting with the man’s wrist, throwing his aim. She scrambled ahead, getting out of reach of Smarts as his blade swished through the air once more.
Ahead of her, Domi saw the door of the Sandcat open, and Grant’s huge form leaped inside. She turned back in time to see the next attack from Smarts, the knife swinging close to her face. Domi swung upward with the metal box that held the interphaser, regretting doing it with such a delicate piece of equipment even as she realized it was her primary defense.
The thin blade batted against the metal carrying case and, when Smarts pulled it back, it was bent halfway to the tip. He looked at it a second before tossing the weapon aside.
“Then I’ll finish you with my hands, you little white-skinned freak,” he snarled, his left fist jabbing at her face.
Domi dropped below his swinging punch, feeling the passage of air as it rushed over her head. Then she swung with her free hand, a ram’s-head fist straight into Smarts’s gut.
The man yelped in pain, but he stood his ground, glaring evilly at her.
Head down, Smarts charged at her across the sandy ground, determined to knock the petite woman from her feet by weight alone. Like a matador, Domi sidestepped at the last instant, pulling her body backward as Smarts rushed past, his fists swinging. As he passed, Domi’s leg swept out, clipping the man’s ankles and forcing him to lose his balance. Smarts toppled forward, slamming into the ground—hard—with his jaw and chest.
Standing over him, Domi eyed the Mexican warily, her lips pulled back in a savage smile, her breathing coming heavy now. He was down but, she wondered, was he out?
In the second that she pondered it, Domi saw the man move again, trying to roll himself over despite the wound in his leg. She put the carrying case on the ground and reached for the knife that was held in a leather sheath at her ankle. Then Domi’s knife was in her hand and she pounced on the man’s back, holding him down.
“I asked you to play nice,” she growled close to Smarts’s ear, letting him see the knife she habitually wore on or off mission.
“Then you are a fool, señorita,” he hissed, trying in vain to shrug her from his body.
“You either stay down or I will put you down,” Domi told him, “once and for all.”
Smarts ignored her, and the sharp point of his elbow swung back, catching her high in the breast. Domi fell backward, just barely retaining her position atop the man’s legs. The huge knife slashed down, a streak of metal through the air as Domi cut into the tender area at the base of Smarts’s spine. Smarts howled, a terrible cry from deep in his chest, as Domi’s knife dug into him, and he struggled once more to shake her weight to no avail.
Domi leaped back suddenly, the bloody knife held in her hand, her face now an emotionless mask. She stood there, poised over Smarts as the man tried to turn to look at her. He struggled, but his body wouldn’t react to his demands; his legs would no longer move.
“My legs,” he howled. “What have you done to my legs?”
“You got me all wrong, right from the get-go,” Domi told him. “I’m not like Kane and Grant. I’m not a Magistrate by trade or blood. I’m from the Outlands.”
With those words, Domi grabbed the handle of the interphaser’s carrying case and jogged away, leaving the wily little Mexican man howling his rage at the ground as he lay there, paralyzed.
A moment later Domi was beside the vehicle, scrambling in through the passenger’s door.
“What kept you?” Grant asked as he fed power to the engine.
“A little bit of unfinished business,” Domi said as she wiped the bloodied knife on her sweat-stained top.
Swiftly, Domi placed the carrying case containing the interphaser to one side of the storage area in the rear of the Sandcat before climbing into the raised seat to operate the machine guns in the armored turret, her knife now back in its sheath at her ankle.
“All set,” Grant acknowledged over his Commtact as he fed power to the engine of the wag.
Domi turned the twin USMG-73 heavy machine guns and began firing a continuous hail of bullets at the coal-skinned creature. Grant wrestled with the steering wheel of the Sandcat, its heavy treads whirring to gain traction across the rocky surface of the cavern. He kept the monster framed within the rectangle of the windshield the whole time, working the wheels to pull the vehicle around to where Brigid and Kane held their ground while Domi’s attack forced the hideous creature back.
As Grant pulled close to the raised ledge, he slapped the door release, and the passenger’s door swung open.
“Get in,” he shouted through the open door, simultaneously transmitting the command to his partners via Commtact.
Standing amid the wrecked laboratory in the center of the cavern, the hulking creature struggled against the barrage of bullets that Domi was blasting into its chest from the twin machine guns. It bellowed in rage, perhaps even pain, and flicked at the bullets as though they were fireflies. Then, head down as if to charge, it strode three swift paces forward on its strange, reverse-hinged legs.
Standing atop the ledge, Kane turned to Brigid, emptying another clip from his Sin Eater into the creature’s torso, dead center, to little effect. “You first, Baptiste,” he instructed.
Brigid looked over the side of the ledge, slipping her TP-9 pistol into its holster as she prepared to jump the ten-foot drop to the roof of the Sandcat. “First step’s a killer, Kane,” she told him with a smile, before leaping from the rocky edge.
