torg 01 - Storm Knights (6 page)

"So," the hunter growled as he stepped back, out of range of the knife, "the stormer has claws."

In the darkness of the cave, the hunter could see the wide whiteness of the stormer's eyes. He could see the glint of the silver blade. But more, he could smell the intense emotions that emanated from the man, a combination of fear and excitement and anger. Suddenly, the hunt had become interesting again.

"I have claws, too, stormer," Kurst explained in a low, menacing voice.

He advanced, ready to end the game.

17

Penn Station was filled with people. Bryce gaped in astonishment as he and the boys climbed up from the subway platform. Flickering torches were everywhere, and groups huddled around fires burning brightly in trash bins. In recent years more and more homeless people had come to sleep in the semi-warmth of this terminal, but never had the priest seen it filled with refugees. There were so many people, but unlike a normal rush hour, no one was hurrying to catch a train or get to work. These people warmed themselves before fires, or paced nervously, or slept upon the tiled floor.

"Coyote, who are all these people?" asked Rat.

"Orphans," Coyote whispered. "Rabbits hiding in

this hole until the lizards go away."

Bryce and the boys wandered for a time. The priest looked into frightened faces, confused faces. But he had no words of comfort for these people. He could not think of a thing to say.

The priest recognized the traditional bums easily. This was where they came to escape the streets and the weather. But now they shared their quarters with businessmen in soiled suits, with young mothers and their crying children, with old women and their mewing, barking pets. They shared their benches with teachers, made room in their corners for office workers. Suddenly, because of the dinosaurs, everyone was a little more like everyone else. Bryce wondered why it took disasters to bring the crowds together.

He noticed a young woman walking aimlessly, carrying a little girl in her arms. The priest watched as she stumbled once, then twice. He reached her just as she stumbled a third time and caught her before she or the little girl could fall. He helped them down, leaning the woman against a wall.

"Are you all right, miss?" Bryce asked. Coyote and Rat stood behind him, unsure of whether they should stay or go.

"I just need to rest a bit," the woman said. Then she noticed Bryce's collar. "Thank you, Father."

"No trouble at all."

The little girl reached out and touched the priest's nose, pushing her tiny finger into the bulbous flesh. "Are you a priest?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I am."

"I don't go to church."

"Honey!" the young woman protested, but Bryce waved her off.

"That's all right. Let me tell you a secret, little girl." Bryce leaned closer, like he was going to share something very important with her. She leaned forward to meet him, resting her tiny head against his bald forehead. "I only go when they make me."

The little girl laughed, and her mother smiled at the sound.

"Do you know what's happening, Father? Do you know when the trains will start running again?"

Bryce shook his head. He had no answer for the young woman, no words of hope he could spare.

Rat produced a pack of gum from one of his many pockets and offered it to the little girl. She looked at it hungrily, then turned a dubious gaze on Rat.

"Sugarless?" she asked.

"Four out of five doctors recommend it," he answered, and she quickly snatched it away.

Coyote, his eyes darting constantly, tapped Bryce on the shoulder. He pointed toward a bench some twenty feet away. Bryce followed his finger and saw the ragged man sitting there. But he was doing more than just sitting. He was shaking uncontrollably. He stood up, a wild look in his eyes. The ragged man started walking toward Bryce. As he came forward, he reached up and buried his fist in his thick, unkept beard. Then he started to pull on it, and Bryce grimaced at just the thought of the pain. But the ragged man seemed to enjoy it, tugging harder as he approached.

"I am surrounded by corpses!" he called out, fixing his gaze on the priest. "I am trapped in the land of the dead!"

Coyote moved to stand in front of Bryce, placing himself between the others and the ragged man.

"But I have heard Lanala's voice," the ragged man continued as he stopped a few feet from Coyote and Bryce. "I hear the song that the Jakatts sing! They sing of Baruk Kaah! They sing of Life!"

"What do you want?" Bryce asked, trying to move Coyote aside. But the youth would not budge.

"I want everything," the ragged man said, his voice growing wilder, more guttural. Bryce noticed that he still tugged on his beard, and the priest could see blood dripping down the ragged man's fist. "I
want
everything."

Now the man began to hunch forward, his limbs seeming to re-form as Bryce and Coyote watched. His arms elongated and his legs shortened. Then his face changed. The jaw jutted out and the bridge of his eyes grew thicker, more pronounced.

"Everything," he repeated, forcing the word through crooked teeth.

"Run," Coyote ordered without turning his head from the ragged man.

"But ." Bryce began to argue, but Rat grabbed his arm.

"Coyote said run, you run," Rat explained, handing the little girl to the priest. Bryce looked at the young woman as she lifted his mass kit. They started to run.

They had only gone a little ways when Bryce halted. The young woman looked at him, confusion in her eyes, as he set the little girl down in a deserted corner. He turned to the woman, wanting to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He couldn't quite get his hand to do that, however.

"You'll be safe here," he assured her, awkwardly dropping his arms to his sides.

"Where are you going, Father?"

"Take care of my mass kit," he said, avoiding her question. "And watch out for your little girl."

Then he ran back the way they had come, back toward Coyote and Rat.

Bryce arrived to find that a crowd had gathered. Many of them were shouting and carrying on in a way that scared the priest. He pushed through the throng, using more strength than he would have expected to. In the center of the crowd was a small, circular clearing. And within that clearing, the ragged man lunged for Coyote.

The youth kicked out violently, but the blow seemed to actually amuse the ragged man. He laughed out loud as each punch connected, relishing the sensations that wracked his deformed body.

Then, quite suddenly and with a speed that caught Coyote off guard, the ragged man's large, hairy hand shot forward. Thick, knobby fingers wrapped tightly around Coyote's arm, and the larger man lifted the youth off the ground.

"I bring gift, little dead thing," the ragged man said, struggling with the words. He squeezed his fist closed, and Coyote screamed in pain. "I give you feelings." He squeezed again, and some of those in the crowd screamed along with the youth.

Rat leaped upon the ragged man then, beating upon his broad back with small fists. But the ragged man simply flexed his bunched muscles, and Rat was tossed to the hard floor. Before he could regain his breath and move, the ragged man had grabbed him as well.

Bryce, desperately trying to decide what to do, noticed that a man standing near him was leaning on a long metal pipe. The pipe was about three feet long, probably found somewhere back in the subway tunnels. The man was banging the metal onto the floor, beating out an almost-tribal tune in time with the ragged man's violence. Without hesitating, the priest snatched the pipe from the surprised man.

"Yes, this will do nicely," he said lightly, trying to calm his frazzled nerves.

The ragged man held the two boys at arms length, smiling savagely over his double catch. "Maybe I will present you as gifts to Lanala, as a sign of my love for the goddess," the ragged man said as he tightened his grip once more.

"Maybe not," yelled Bryce as he swung the pipe into the ragged man's brutish face. The sound of the impact was awful as bone and flesh gave way to the unyielding metal. The ragged man crashed to the ground, releasing the two teens as he fell.

Bryce dropped the pipe, disgusted at what he had done. He grabbed both boys and shouted, "Now we run!"

They did.

The woman and little girl were gone when Bryce and the boys returned. Only Bryce's black mass kit sat in the otherwise empty corner, alone. He picked it up and held it close.

"She left, man," said Coyote. "We should be going, too."

The priest nodded, following Coyote and Rat toward the exit.

He hesitated a moment, looking back into the empty corner.

"We never even found out their names," Bryce said quietly.

Rat put his hand on the priest's arm, and gently led him away.

Alder carried a small knapsack over one shoulder. The gray cat's head peeked out from the open flap, watching curiously to see where the police officer was taking him. Alder looked back for the twentieth time. The lizard man was still following him, ambling along at a steady pace.

Tal Tu, he had called himself, Alder remembered. He stopped to rest, leaning against a stalled van. He set the knapsack down and took a moment to study the lizard man.

Tal Tu was over six feet tall, and much bulkier than Alder. His head was reminiscent of a bird's, as the snout tapered to form a sharp beak. But the rest of his body was reptilian, ending in a long tail. He carried a knapsack as well, but he filled his with trinkets from the Radio Shack. What the lizard man wanted with wires and calculators and batteries was beyond him, but Alder hadn't been able to make much out of the happenings of the past two days.

Ignoring Tal Tu, Alder decided to check out the van he was resting on. It was a typical two-door model of American make, with a sliding side hatch and a rear door for loading. It was a New York delivery man's transportation through a crowded city. It guzzled gas and didn't worry about scratches or dents. He tried the door and found it unlocked. Now that wasn't a smart thing to do in New York. Just anybody could borrow your vehicle if you left in unlocked and unattended.

He slid into the front seat. Surprisingly, the key was still in the ignition and the gear stick was left in drive. So why was it stalled here in the middle of the street?

There was a knock on the door window and Alder jumped when he saw the lizard man's face against the glass. Then it held up the knapsack with the cat sticking out and Alder realized it was Tal Tu.

"You scared yesterday's lunch out of me," Alder yelled, and Tal Tu pulled back. He tilted his bird head to one side so that he could regard Alder with one of his lizard eyes.

"Don't give me that innocent look. You shouldn't sneak up on a person like that."

The ground shook then, throwing Alder into the van and tilting Tal Tu back onto his tail.

"What the ."

"Udatok, Rick Alder, udatok," Tal Tu rasped, motioning down the street. Alder glanced back and saw the huge monster. It was another of the one-horned dinosaurs. Each step it took shook the ground. There were lizard men with it. And the people who had changed. And the flying starfish. The invaders were coming, and Alder could not escape them on foot.

He grabbed the knapsack from Tal Tu and placed it in the back of the van. Then he led Tal Tu around to the sliding hatch. There were no seats in the rear, just empty cargo space.

"Get in," he ordered, helping Tal Tu squeeze his bulk and strange shape into the van. It wouldn't be comfortable, but Alder felt that if he left the lizard man behind the others would kill him.

Then Alder piled into the driver's seat. He shifted to park and grasped the key. There was no reason for the van not to work, he told himself. It had gas, he had the key. That was all you needed to make it start. That was the way the world that Rick Alder knew worked.

He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the approaching horde. They would be upon them momentarily, and that udatok or whatever Tal Tu had called it would crush them beneath its scaled feet.

Alder turned the key, willing the engine to start.

It sputtered and died.

He pumped the gas pedal and turned the key again. "Come on, baby, you can do it."

This time the van started. Alder silently thanked God as he gunned the engine and drove off, away from the horrors that were chasing him.

19

Sergeant Dykstra stared out the windshield of the jeep, hoping to see some sign of civilization come rumbling down Route 17. All he saw were the sheets of driving rain.

The rain had started shortly after nightfall. He and Wilson had hurriedly put up the canvas top, hoping that the flimsy covering would keep them dry. Now the gray sky was brightening, and still the rain was falling. It swept across the blacktop of the highway in great waves of water, forming small rivers and ponds as far as he could see.

Beside him, Wilson slept. His snores were loud inside the jeep, but Dykstra didn't complain. For all he knew, he sounded the same when he was asleep. Maybe worse. Dykstra clutched the ignition key for the seventh time in the last hour. He rolled the cool metal between thumb and finger absently, his eyes still fixed upon the sweeping rain.