Tribe, page 19
How am I going to handle this?
He knew how he would handle it—throw himself to the wolves, kicking, punching, and cutting—but they’d do the same. He wasn’t sure he’d walk away from it.
He felt his body moving. Lack of fear guiding him without thought.
But then he asked the question: WWSD?
What Would Sarah Do?
The answer came in a flash and brought a smile to his face.
It took an inordinate amount of self-control, but Henry managed to change tactics.
Instead of a flailing, wild attack, he threw the hammock out, unfurling it like a fishing net, blinding the women for a moment. He charged forward, dove down, and slid beneath it, past the front line of killer grandmas. With one hand still on the hammock, he yanked it with him.
Then he did something that went against all his instincts.
He ran.
Henry glanced back at the old women as he barreled through the door and into the living space, trailing the hammock and still picking up speed.
Howling, they chased him.
33
“Seriously!” Sarah shouted, and she stomped on the brakes.
There was a thump from above and then the stranger flew past the hood, striking the street hard. He rolled through the street, bounced over a curb, and struck a telephone pole with enough force to dent it.
He’s dead, she dared to think again. Has to be.
But the man proved her wrong once more. The moment his body fell still, life sprang back into him. He sat up on the curb, cricked his neck one way, then the other, and stood.
Sarah threw the van into reverse and hammered the gas. Tires squealed. She glanced away from the side mirror she was using to navigate the street. Behind her, a cloud of white smoke trailed the backward-moving van.
The man ran through the cloud, gaining.
And he looked pissed.
She’d taken him by surprise twice. And he’d survived the impossible both times. Even if she could catch him off guard again, she wasn’t sure it would matter.
Running is a waste of time, she decided. The van didn’t accelerate fast enough to leave him in the dust. Fighting wasn’t a much better idea, but she figured that if tossing him around in the street didn’t do the job, maybe putting a spear through his chest would.
She crushed the brakes, pressed into the seatback, as the van came to a sudden stop.
The man careened face first into the van’s front end.
“Oh!” Sarah shouted, letting out a chuckle despite the fact that an unkillable nutjob was after her.
The impact carried the kinetic force of a rhino strike. The van even moved a few feet.
Dude’s a demigod, too, she thought. Immortal like Helen. Has to be. And he killed a lot of her children. People like me.
But they didn’t know who they were.
What they were.
That has to make a difference. She took her shield and spear and stepped back out of the van. She noticed Chuck standing nearby, head shaking. “Dude, I told you to—”
Sarah felt intense pressure on her arm. Then her feet left the ground. There was a moment of wind, the pull of gravity, and then an impact.
She pushed herself up, back to the brick wall that had stopped her flight. The shield was still on her arm, but the spear had fallen out of reach.
The man stood over her, indifferent to the wailing alarm they’d set off earlier, or the whoop of approaching police sirens. For the first time all day, she hoped the cops would show up. They can’t all be bad…
Maybe if I get him talking…
“Who are you?”
The man cracked his knuckles in one hand and then the other. “My name…” He smiled a wicked grin, like he was about to pull off a Mission Impossible mask and reveal he was actually Richard Simmons. “…is Memnon.”
Sarah squinted at the man named Memnon. He clearly thought she’d react to the name, but she was clueless. “Like Agamemnon?”
“Aga…” The man flared his nostrils in outrage. “Agamemnon was a mortal. A king, but a mortal. And when he was slain after the war, he did not come back.”
“The…Trojan War?”
“The—” Memnon shook his head, exasperated. “Yes. The Trojan War.”
“And you’re what, in love with Helen, too?”
“We were lovers, once.”
“Riiight. You’re the ex-boyfriend.”
He grew irritated. “Every man and woman alive, who knows Helen’s true self, are profoundly in love with her. Would sacrifice anything for her to step into her rightful role.”
“That’s super creepy.” Sarah glanced to the right. The reflection of flashing blue lights grew brighter. “So is this like a dominatrix fetish kind of thing, like the world you want to take over is a metaphor for the—”
Memnon lashed out with a punch.
Sarah had just enough time to duck behind her shield.
The impact knocked her back hard. The shield held, protecting her from direct contact, but he struck her with enough force to shove her into the brick wall. It was bone crushing force, but the only thing that broke was the brick wall, mortar crumbling as her back dented into it.
“I am Memnon of Ethiopia, son of Eos, goddess of the dawn. I will not be mocked by the watered-down Imítheos who has yet to be awoken.”
Sarah peeked out from under her shield. Memnon, fists clenched, loomed. “What do you mean, ‘awoken’?”
“You can feel her blood in you. The strength it lends you. The speed. But your true godhood simmers just below the surface, locked away. And only Helen can unlock it.” He leaned back. “Why would she not tell you?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Helen is a fool.”
Sarah wasn’t sure why, but she felt offended for Helen. Maybe it was because she was Grandma Helen. Some kind of familial defense system. “Do you have demi-children running around?”
“I’ve had many,” he said. “And they all suffered the same fate as Helen’s lineage.”
“You killed your own children?”
“And grandchildren. And grandchildren’s children. Born, unborn, and grown. Until I was the only one left.”
All of Sarah’s snark fled. “But…why?”
“Do you really know so little about Greek history?”
“That’s more Henry’s department,” she said, and she felt guilty for mentioning his name.
“Since the days of the Titans, it has been the children of gods who have been their undoing. By killing my lineage, and Helen’s, I have protected—”
“That’s why you want to kill me? You think I’m going kill Helen? Or you? Dude, if you let me go, neither of you would see me again.”
Something about Memnon’s story didn’t make sense. If Helen had to awaken the true godhood of her descendants, but refused to do it, why would this guy bother killing them all, or his own family?
“I believe you,” he said. “I know a coward when I see one. But I don’t want to kill you.”
“Please don’t ask me to join the Dark Side,” she said, attempting to find her sense of humor in the face of the insane once more.
“You are inconsequential, in all ways except one.”
“Not nice,” she said, but she knew exactly what he meant. He was after Helen, and to get to her, he would use Sarah as bait.
He glanced down the street. Two police cars moved into view, side-mounted floodlights scouring store fronts. Lingering on the broken shop’s window. “I will give you a choice. Come willingly. Now. Or I will carry you away unconscious.”
“Well, it’s like Andy Middaugh used to tell me…” Sarah said. “He’s an ex. Kind of a dingus. Anyway, he used to tell me I wasn’t easy. Ever.”
Sarah ducked behind the shield just as Memnon’s fist struck it. She was pounded back into the wall again. The shield shook against her arm, again and again. She didn’t know what it was made from, but it could take a beating.
And so can I, Sarah thought, as her body pulverized the brick against her back.
“Okay, okay!” she shouted. “I’ll come!”
The pounding stopped.
She lifted the shield, kicked out hard with both feet.
Struck Memnon’s shins.
He fell forward as Sarah swung the shield up. She connected hard with his face, sprawling him to the side.
She jumped to her feet and quickly snatched up the spear. “For a demigod, you have shit reflexes.” She raised her spear, ready for a fight.
Memnon stood, smiling in a way she didn’t like. He knew something she didn’t, or had yet to realize. And it pissed her off.
She stalked toward Memnon, and to her surprise, he backed away.
Was it the spear he feared? Was it some kind of mythical god-killing weapon?
Or is it me?
When he matched her pace, backpedaling away from her, she grew angry.
“C’mon, you sonuvabitch! Now you’re afraid of me?”
When Sarah found herself beside the van again, she shouted, “C’mon!” and she backhanded the van with her shield. The vehicle came off the ground, rotated, and crashed back down on its roof.
“Holy shit.” She turned her wide eyes from the van, to Memnon. “Wait a second… You—”
A sharp prick in her neck.
She swatted at what felt like a bee.
Her hand came away clean.
And then the world began to spin.
She held on to the van’s upside-down body, stabilizing herself as the police cruisers closed in. She slid to the ground, limbs boneless.
All of her strength had been sapped, and she could feel consciousness fading close behind.
She looked up into the apologetic eyes of Chuck. He held a needle in his hand.
Memnon stood beside the electrician from Chelmsford with one daughter. Smiled down at her. “Physical strength is not everything.” He crouched. “You’re not fighting a man.” Four police officers arrived, standing behind Memnon, subservient. “You’re fighting a city.”
Sarah felt the police officers pick her up.
And then she felt nothing.
34
Henry laughed. He’d always wanted to take part in the Pamplona running of the bulls. His fantasy included becoming world renowned for his fearless and epic run. People would be gored, left and right. Others would panic and try to scramble over barriers. Some would get horns up the butt for their effort. But not him. Henry the Unflinching wouldn’t run from the bulls, he’d run with them.
His theory was that the bulls would see his lack of fear, see him as an equal, and leave him be. Bulls didn’t look at each other, squeal in fear, and think, “Ahh! A bull!” It would be the same for him, he believed.
But now he knew the chase itself was part of the fun.
He didn’t feel the adrenaline rush other people experienced. He just felt giddy from knowing how his own running of the grandmas would end…and how ridiculous Fern and her friends looked.
They were keeping up, he’d give them that. But they were not agile. And the look in their eyes—something like hyenas mixed with the bulging ‘I fucking see you,’ of crazed tarsier lemurs—was hysterical. Determined madness. And it was all because of him.
Because he was important.
For the first time ever.
And it felt good. Really good.
He was a freaking demigod. Almost. Once he proved himself to Helen he’d make like Prince Adam, hold aloft his mighty kopis, and shout something about the power of Grayskull. That’s how he pictured it. He might even do it. Why not have fun with eternity and superhuman power?
Distracted by fantasies of the glorious future, Henry wasn’t really watching where he was going. The killer maid squad had done a good job of sanitizing the apartment. There was no trace of the previous violence. Probably no DNA for the police to find. All evidence of the Culus’s existence had been removed. There were no bodies to leap, or blood puddles to sidestep, so he ran on auto-pilot, indulging his imagination—and he clipped the granite countertop of the kitchen’s island.
He sprawled to the side, spinning and sliding to the floor like an ice skater who’d been dropped by her partner.
Intense pain sharpened his focus. He spun on his knees, bounced back to his feet, and picked up where he’d left off. The grannies gained a few steps on him, but that was okay.
The closer, the better.
He laughed again, hooting like an Arkham Asylum patient. “This is gonna be awesome, Fern! I’m telling you!”
She snarled in response. Teeth gnashing. Baton crackling with electric pain.
She was just a few steps behind him now.
Henry bounced off the hallway wall and sprinted past the elevator. He heard it ding as he passed, but he thought nothing of it. The horde was close on his heels.
He focused on the window ahead. Just a few more seconds.
The hammock stretched tight between his hands.
Have to time it right…
Five feet from the window and the six-hundred-foot drop, Henry stopped.
He spun around, and threw the hammock up between himself and the old ladies. It stretched out like a wall, hiding him from view.
No one saw him drop to the floor.
But they sure as hell felt him when they barreled into the hammock, tripped over his prone body, and sprawled forward…
…out into the night air.
One moment the thundering sound of orthopedic shoes filled the room, the next—silence.
Henry jumped to his feet, took hold of the window frame and leaned out into the night. They looked like a comet crashing to Earth. Fern and a few of her buddies were wrapped up in the hammock, while a few more spun through the air behind them.
“Really?” Henry called out. “No one’s going to scream?”
He had to give them respect. Not only could they clean like the Devil, they were also fearless about going to meet him. Or Charon. Or however the afterlife works. Whatever bad place there was, they’d be headed to it.
Maybe I’ll see them again, someday?
Henry looked down at the city below. Mentally mapped out his location and what laid below. He laughed again when he remembered it was a Mattress Firm. He pictured the crazy ladies crashing through the ceiling and hitting a memory foam mattress. “Maybe Fern will make it after all.”
Either way, a half dozen maids falling from the sky was bound to be noticed. And when things fall, people look up. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed the broken windows and sent the police.
He watched their descent until, “Oh!”
What he’d imagined conflicted with reality. The maids didn’t punch through the rooftop. And it would take many more of them to clean up the mess.
He was about to get in a last word to Fern, because why not, when a loud voice shouted, “Don’t do it, kid!”
It’s a good thing I don’t flinch, Henry thought, and he pulled himself back into the penthouse. He glanced over his shoulder. Four police officers. More Culus.
He gripped the kopis, out of sight, holding it in front of his torso.
I’ll wait for them to get close. And then—
“I know things seem like they suck right now,” the officer said. “Life is hard. I get it. I’ve been where you are.”
“Doubt it,” Henry said. Grip on his weapon tight, he glanced back again. There was something weird about the officer…mostly that he wasn’t weird at all. He sounded genuine. He was middle-aged. White. Balding. Tall. He looked kind.
So did Fern.
But what really set him apart was that he was motioning for the other three cops to move away, and he didn’t have his weapon drawn. His posture was relaxed, palms open.
Not Culus.
Can’t kill them, Henry decided. This was still a problem. A big one. One of the officers would eventually recognize him as either the kid who foiled a bank robbery, or the kid who killed people on the subway. Maybe both. And when that happened… He really didn’t want to hurt good cops.
But he wouldn’t be afraid to.
And now, rather than being the solution, the kopis became the problem. If they saw the weapon, they might become threats sooner rather than later.
“Ending your life feels like the solution. No more pain. No more worrying. Right? But I don’t think that’s the truth. The world is a beautiful place, when you wipe away the grime.”
“What’s your name?” Henry asked.
“Officer Robles.”
“First name, I mean.”
“Frankie.”
“Why not just Frank?” Henry asked, curiosity taking him on a tangent.
“It’s what my grandmother called me.” Frankie shrugged. “It stuck.”
“You seem like a good guy,” Henry said.
“I do my best. Why don’t you step away from the edge, and we can talk about how awesome we both are.”
“I don’t know,” Henry said, taking hold of the window frame and leaning back out into the night.
“Kid!” Frankie said, stepping closer, reaching out in earnest concern.
Henry released the kopis. It fell in front of his body, concealed from the officers behind him. He’d heard that if you dropped a penny off a skyscraper it would kill anyone it hit below. It was bullshit, obviously, but the kopis… If someone was on the sidewalk directly below...
Probably should have thought about that before I dropped it. Ah well.
He pulled himself back inside.
“Seriously, kid, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Frankie said, holding his chest.
Henry turned to face the man. Moment of truth. “You okay?”
Frankie stared at him for a good long moment. And then, “Am I okay?” He smiled. “I’ll be peachy just as soon as you step away from the window.”
“Because I have a lot to live for,” Henry said.
“And people who care about you,” Frankie added.
Henry was about to argue, but for the first time in his lonely life, he wasn’t sure he disagreed. Sarah cared about him. Helen, too. They only knew him for a day, but it was like one of those action movies…like Speed. The bond forged through life-and-death situations was accelerated. An hour felt like a year. Sarah felt like an old friend…
