Stone Soldiers 4: Shades of War (10 page)

"Because it has the same latent abilities he had in life," Laura answered. "And apparently he figured out how to unlock them in the clones- once he possessed them."

"And what about the ghosts- from the battlefield?" Jimmy asked. "How do they figure in?"

"That I'm not sure," Kenslir said. "The ability to raise shades is something very few necromancers can do. And for all his other abilities, that was something Kerrick never seemed to be able to do."

"So where is he now?" Josie asked. "Trading bodies again?"

"We've already thought of that," Pam Keegan said. "The FBI has agents taking all the other clones into protective custody right now."

"So what does a resurrected, super nutjob do with himself?" Phillips asked.

"Given what we've seen, and his past history," Kenslir said, "My guess is he's building another army."

"For what?" Josie asked.

"Revenge," Laura said. She nodded toward Colonel Kenslir. "Revenge on the man that killed him?"

"No. He could have had that at Chickamauga," Kenslir said. "And I don't think he expected to see me there. He's up to something else."

"You said another army," Josie said. "Fifty ghosts isn't much of an army."

Phillips agreed. "She's right- even with their abilities, fifty isn't that much."

"I was referring to 1995," Kenslir said. "He had a network of humans and parahumans in place, ready to begin attacks across the country. There were well over a hundred of them."

"Were?" Jimmy asked. "What happened to them?"

"I killed them," Mark Kenslir said grimly. "All of them."

There were two basic methods for entering a heavily guarded enemy base. One was to force your way in, and the other was to sneak your way in. Given that he needed to find the leaders of this particular base of operations, Mark Kenslir had decided to sneak in. And the most effective way to do that was to let himself be captured.

Sure enough, after he was secured in a barn in the middle of the terrorists' commune-like farm, the leaders of the organization he'd been tasked with eliminating came to him. Or so it seemed.

The white-haired, pink-eyed albino he recognized immediately. Professor Carl Upsilon, former East German operative of the KGB's VIST directorate. And a telepath. A man who allegedly defected to the West in the 1970s nearly twenty years ago.

"So, Mr. Doe," Upsilon said, reading the ID card pulled from Kenslir's wallet. "What brings you to West Virginia?"

Upsilon was dressed all in white- a three piece suit with matching white leather shoes. Only his tie had any color- pink, like his eyes.

Mark Kenslir was suspended from the rafters of the barn by two stout chains that had been wrapped around his wrists and forearms. He had been stripped to the waist and his shoes taken- leaving him in torn bluejeans.

"Deer season," Kenslir answered, watching the thin, black haired girl behind Upsilon. She was short and looked very young, like a gymnast. She looked very Russian, in a long trenchcoat that reached down past her knees. Given her body language, she was clearly the albino's subordinate.

"You know, it's rather odd that I even have to ask," Upsilon said. "Me being a telepath and all. But I don't seem to be able to detect your thoughts."

"How thoughtless of me," Kenslir said in response. He now watched the two guards in the room, standing by the door, brandishing AK-47s. Like most of the people he'd seen on the farm, they appeared to possess no parahuman abilities- hence their reliance on firearms. They wore jeans and workshirts- the uniform of untrained combatants around the world.

Upsilon turned back to the table from which he had taken Kenslir's ID. The table was covered with his other personal effects- including his tactical targeting visor. Upsilon picked the oversized, wraparound glasses up and pocked and prodded at them gently.

"You have some very sophisticated equipment, Mr. Doe," Upsilon said finally, putting the glasses back down. He then picked up Kenslir's stainless steel, Israeli Arms Desert Eagle handgun.

"So, are you the big kahuna around here, Carl?" Kenslir asked.

Upsilon showed a bit of surprise at the mention of his name. "So, you know who I am. That puts me at quite a disadvantage."

Upsilon extended the semi automatic at Kenslir, then aimed it down, toward his right leg. "But I have some ideas about who you might be."

The pistol fired once, spitting out a brass shell casing and a .44 magnum round. The bullet punched through Kenslir's bluejeans and ripped into his flesh, slamming into his leg bone.

"You shoot like a girl," Kenslir said, ignoring the pain.

Behind Upsilon, the young woman bristled and started to step forward. Upsilon held out an arm to stop her.

"Not yet, Natasha," the albino said softly. Then he fired at Kenslir again- this time sending a bullet into his stomach.

The round only penetrated a couple of inches, then stopped. Around it, flesh turned to stone. The bullet then began to be pushed back out of the wound as the stone expanded. Once the bullet was free, the hole in Kenslir's flesh sealed up, turning gray. The blood that had trickled from the wound soaked back into the patch of stone and Kenslir's skin. The gray patch on his stomach then faded back to a flesh tone.

"Very interesting," Upsilon said, putting the gun down.

"You didn't answer my question," Kenslir remarked. "You in charge here?"

"In Moscow, we heard about someone like you back in the early seventies," Upsilon said. "A man who couldn't be stopped by bullets or magic. A ghost who could slip past sorcerers and psychics, undetected."

"Moscow?" Kenslir asked. "I figured you more the Star City type."

"So, Mr. Doe," Upsilon asked, stepping closer, "What is your real name? I must admit to having a curiosity about it."

"Answer my question- I'll answer yours."

Upsilon sighed. "Very well. No, I am not in charge here. Normally. But today, I am. And I grow weary of your non-cooperation. Natasha!"

The young girl stepped forward, out of her shoes, pulling off her long trenchcoat. As it fell to the floor, she was revealed naked beneath. But only for a second. She fell forwards, catching herself with hands that had turned into paws. Her whole body had contorted and changed quickly, fluidly- sprouting hair and even a long tail. Natasha was no longer a ballerina-sized subordinate. She was now a black-haired wolf.

"That's some bitch you've got there," Kenslir said.

The wolf growled at Kenslir, then sprang forward. Her claws dug at his chest scratching his smooth skin. Her jaws snapped open, then closed, on the side of his neck, tearing into his shoulder. As the wolf fell back, she wrenched out a large chunk of flesh- allowing a short spurt of blood to shoot from Kenslir's mangled neck.

The wolf landed on all fours and swallowed the bloody mouthful whole.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Kenslir said, ignoring the blood pumping out of his new wound.

As Upsilon watched, the flesh around the wound stopped bleeding and turned gray. The discoloration spread out a half inch around the edge of the wound, the torn flesh petrifying. Then the blood running down Kenslir's chest and neck soaked back into his skin.

Upsilon was about to say something, but the wolf began to whimper. She staggered back and gasped and coughed. She began making retching sounds, trying to throw something up.

"Natasha?" Upsilon asked, worried. He reached for the wolf, but her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed to the dirt floor of the barn. Her sides heaved once, twice, then went still.

As Upsilon watched, the wolf reverted to her human form and lay unmoving.

"Guess she should have spit, instead of swallowed," Kenslir said.

Upsilon whirled, his face enraged. He scooped up a knife off the table and stepped toward Kenslir, ready to ram the blade into the bound man's stomach.

Kenslir reacted faster, bringing his feet up. Faster than the albino could react, he caught the white-haired head between his shins. He held the grip only long enough for Upsilon to get a panicked look on his face. Then he snapped his neck.

The guards on either side of the door immediately began firing their rifles.

Kenslir pulled the dead telepath's body in close with his legs, trying to catch as many rounds as he could with it. Several still struck his legs and arms, but he ignored the minor pain. Wrenching with his arms, he pulled down, using the chains to snap the heavy beam overhead and freeing himself from the suspended position he had been put in.

Falling backwards, Kenslir let Upsilon's body fall on top of him, pulling his knees up under the lifeless, pale corpse as the broken halves of the wood beam splintered and crashed down on either side of him.

The gunmen had their rifles pressed to their shoulders now, and continued to fire in semi-automatic mode, each depress of the trigger unleashing a 7.62mm round.

Kenslir pushed the body away from him with his legs- flinging it at the gunman on the left with little effort. The hundred-sixty-pound body struck the gunman with terrific force, knocking him off his feet and crushing him against the wall behind him. He slumped to the ground, unconscious, as his partner stopped firing to glance over.

Kenslir leapt back to his feet as the remaining gunman looked back at him and sighted again. Snapping out with his right arm, he sent a length of chain cracking out, like a whip. The heavy links smashed into the gunman, breaking his arms and nose and driving him against a wall as well. Unlike his companion, when he dropped to one knee, he was still conscious.

Despite the heavy chains wrapped around his left arm, Kenslir raised it up then whipped it forward, releasing the knife Upsilon had carried to him. The black blade tumbled through the air at tremendous velocity then struck point-first between the gunman's eyes, splintering bone and burying itself to the hilt. The gunmen then fell to the side, lifeless.

Kenslir quickly shrugged off the chains wrapped around his arms and moved to the table with his belongings. First, he slipped on his leather cowboy boots, then pulled on his t-shirt. He was slipping on his shoulder holster harness when the door to the barn burst open.

The first gunman through the door was temporarily stunned by the sight of Upsilon's bloody corpse on the ground. When he finally looked up at Kenslir, the sound of the auto magnum pistol barking once came to his ears and the man's head jerked back- a .44 slug having just exploded his brain.

As the body slumped down, Kenslir fired once more- another head shot that dropped the second gunman coming through the door. Outside, a third gunman hesitated, his AK-47 across his chest, nowhere near ready to fire. Before he could make up his mind, Kenslir put a bullet in it.

No more gunmen were visible.

Kenslir slipped on the tactical targeting visor disguised as wraparound sunglasses. He connected the over-the-ear wire from the glasses to a small transmitter in his shoulder holster, under his right armpit, activating the head-up display. He then crossed the barn and retrieved his knife.

As the visor warmed up, displaying his compass heading, ambient air temperature and other environmental data in his field of view, Kenslir collected one of the AK-47s, then began removing magazines from the others. Unfortunately, the terrorists had been overconfident in their armed base, and none had carried spare ammunition. He'd have to make do with the three and half magazines worth of ammo he had remaining now. Of course, he'd probably be able to gather more in a few minutes.

Stepping outside of the barn, he looked around the area. It was still dark out- just past midnight. The visor immediately brightened his field of view, revealing the night in crisp clarity.

Across the wide center plaza of gathered buildings, red-orange blobs were now moving. Targets identified by a dedicated KH-13 satellite hanging high overhead.

Kenslir sighted on the first target, at least a hundred yards away and began to fire. His third round found its mark as he adjusted to the weapon. A head flung back and a glowing body toppled to the ground, dead instantly.

Kenslir sighted again, but the remaining forms had dove behind cover. One glowing head popped up and fired a shot. It came nowhere near Kenslir. He returned fire, again scoring a headshot and dropping his enemy.

He began walking forward now, the stock of the rifle held tight against his shoulder, calmly sighting down the barrel as he moved toward the remaining would-be terrorists cowering behind cover.

A flashing red triangle appeared to the left of his field of vision. Kenslir spun in place quickly and snapped off a round, killing a man in the window of the upper floor of a small house. The farm was nestled in a large valley- a collection of houses, barns and pens that the organization had been using as a training ground.

Kenslir turned back toward his original targets and continued walking closer.

Another glowing head popped up from behind a pile of lumber. Kenslir fired, but the head had ducked back down too quick. The round missed, then the target's hands appeared above the lumber, holding a rifle and fired wildly on full automatic.

He was surprised when one of the rounds actually hit him in the left leg. He ignored the pain and stiffness as his flesh petrified around the bullet then began pushing it back out. He continued walking forward. He was now only seventy five yards away.

A crashing, splintering sound came from his right, followed by the flashing warning indicator. Kenslir turned and fired a quick shot- striking a glowing orange figure hovering above the ground. The target immediately plunged to the dirt, while its five companions continued on, walking shoulder to shoulder.

Of the remaining five, only four glowed a bright, orange red- the super-imposed heat signature of their bodies the spy satellite in orbit above had detected. The fifth terrorist advancing gave off no such heat signature. He was a dark shape, nearly twenty feet tall.

Kenslir adjusted his aim and dropped another advancing terrorist. As the man pitched wildly to the side, his arm extended and a ball of flame launched from his fingertips, ineffectively striking the dirt.

Two slugs slammed into Kenslir's left side next- fired from the men cowering behind cover seventy yards away. He pivoted quickly and squeezed off two shots- catching each man in the chest as they stood behind the lumber pile. Both dropped to the ground, dead.

Turning back to the parahumans advancing, Kenslir now saw the remaining two with heat signatures had stepped behind their more massive companion. The massive, angular, glinting subject.

Kenslir fired two rounds into the approaching behemoth. Sure enough, he recognized the sound of ice splintering when struck by the bullets. This newcomer was surrounded by a thick shell of ice.

A seven-foot-long arm of ice raised and the hand opened toward Kenslir- then it exploded. Shards of ice flew through the air- two spearing into Kenslir's left shoulder and chest. Six-inch long, razor-sharp shards of frozen death.