Authors: Tim Marquitz
Nineteen
Turns out I didn’t really need Jo’s
directions, after all. I mostly only needed to roll the window down and listen for
the sounds of the world coming to a loud and violent end. All it needed was a
Cradle of Filth soundtrack and Feluris could lower the curtain and call it a
night.
The boom of thunder had me dancing in my
seat as I turned the corner to see Longinus facing off against an army of
aliens. Their black stripes stood out fierce as they advanced on him, orange
faces scrunched into threatening glares. Fanned out around the ex-AC, Gorath’s
minions pressed the attack with a ferocity I’d yet to see from them. There was
none of the uncertainty that colored them when we first arrived, none of the fear
present as there had been when Jesus and his people chased them down. These
Felurians had blood on their minds, and damned if they weren’t going after it.
Longinus gave them their fill. He stood in
their midst, his sword a glistening arc hacking through their ranks. Gore
traced the weapon’s path through alien flesh, the pea green of their lives free
of their bodies and set loose to rain down overtop those who survived. But it
wasn’t only the aliens who suffered.
Red streaks of Longinus’ blood stood out
stark against the sallow paleness of his skin. He stood with a shield of
magical energy in his left hand, its curved shape deflecting the majority of
the attacks aimed at him, but it was hardly perfect. Even from where I sat
inside the cab of the truck, I could see he was wearing down; could feel it.
There was none of his bluster, his swordsmanship crass and brutal. It was
effective, but there was no grace behind his swings, no movement to his feet.
He stood flat, heels to the earth, as the aliens advanced.
Dark circles made his eyes deep pits,
effectively camouflaging them in the grime that blackened his face. His chest
bellowed as he fought on. The line was driving him slowly, inexorably,
backward. My heart sank to see it. I could barely feel his energy despite his
efforts. Whatever battles he’d endured since we parted had taken their toll.
There was no sign or sense of Gorath, but
it was possible he was waiting for Longinus to tire even more. The number of
alien bodies that littered the ground at the ex-AC’s feet was tantamount to the
carnage he was still capable of dealing out. Piles and piles of wet, dripping
corpses lay still on the streets surrounding him. He had brought down a legion
of them but still they advanced. The glint of their weapons sparkled all around
him, splatters of crimson left in their wake.
Certain I wouldn’t last more than a few
seconds in the middle of the killing zone, my mind scrambled to think of a way
to help without it being a suicide mission. There wouldn’t be any virgins
waiting for me where I went, which was probably a good thing. They were more
trouble than they were worth. Besides, the only virgins these days are virgins
for a reason. Most likely because they’re too damn ugly for anyone to brave
popping that cherry, even in the dark. Beer goggles had their limits, no matter
what anyone says.
So, Rambo-mode out of the question, I
looked for inspiration from my road rage days—which have really never ended,
but that’s beside the point.
My breath clutched in my lungs, I floored
the accelerator and steered straight at the horde of aliens besieging Longinus.
While they were too busy slugging it out with the big guy to notice me yet,
they would soon enough. Once they did, there wasn’t much chance I’d get more
than a few dozen of them by trying to run them down. I’d just end up getting
swarmed, the truck cab a pre-made coffin I would die in. That didn’t sound fun.
So instead of going kamikaze, I summoned a
ball of coalesced energy and rolled it through the small window at the back of
the cab, the one that connected it to the covered bed. The mystical roly-poly
slipped out of sight, thumping about amongst the cylinders that filled the
back. I heard it settle after a moment and sighed. It sucked being braver than
smart. The hard way or the highway, and my dumb ass chose the hard way every
fucking time.
The aliens looked up as I hit the horn. I
wasn’t so much as trying to warn them as I was Longinus. He’d been just as
oblivious as the Eidolon, but I figured now would be as good a time as any to
duck. Wide eyes filled the alien faces as the truck barreled toward them.
Longinus’ head snapped my direction, and while he might not have realized it
was me behind the wheel, there was no hiding the truck’s intent. He took
advantage of the lull and dove for cover. That was my cue.
I willed a tendril of magic to wrap around
the steering wheel, holding it straight while I climbed out the window, the
back end wound about my wrist. On the roof, I winked at the rapidly approaching
aliens and spun around, jumping over the bed of the truck, letting its forward
motion assist. A quick snap of the magical leash and the truck swerved. Its
wheels dug into the asphalt and it skidded sideways, traction giving way in a
shuddered screech. Black streaks scorched the road, and then came to an abrupt
end as the wheels went suddenly airborne. Then the truck toppled. The side of
it hit the street and bounced, catapulting the vehicle into the air. It fell
into the mass of aliens clustered too tight to escape. There was a tremendous
series of pops, as if a million twigs had been snapped at once. Aliens slumped
as the truck tumbled over them, shattered bodies flung into the air behind it
as it rolled on its merry way.
The cylinders in the back clanged and
clattered, steel ringing off steel inside the confined of the enclosed bed. I
hit the ground right then, and rolled into the loving embrace of momentum. She’s
a real bitch.
Asphalt piranhas swarmed despite my efforts
to minimize the damage, shredding my skin with tiny bites as I skipped across
the street. Fortunately, road rash was one of the few rashes that didn’t
require an ointment to fix. A couple of ugly bounces later, the vehicle ended
up right where I wanted it: smack dab in the middle of the alien congregation.
They groaned and cursed while I tumbled to a stop—the truck still going—but
they hadn’t seen anything yet.
A flicker of will triggered the ball of
energy I’d dropped into the truck bed. It went off instantly. On its own, it
might have taken out a couple of the bastards and been a great advertisement
for the benefits of sunscreen to a bunch of others, but that wasn’t what I had
in mind.
The tiny gems plugged into the caps would
add a little energy to the mix, but it was the cylinders themselves that were
the fun part. Designed to amplify the energy channeled into them, they were the
extra torque on a wrench that allowed a frozen bolt to snap free. Given how
many of the things there were stashed inside the bed, I was looking at
a lot
of torque. Oh, and lots and lots
of shrapnel.
A rather unassuming boom went off, muffled
by layers of steel surrounding the explosion, but about two heartbeats later,
we were looking at the Apocalypse. There was a piercing hiss, followed by a
rapid-fire crackle, steel shattering like glass. The world shook at a
thunderous
whoomp
and the air was filled with the shriek of murderous bees.
I tucked my head and curled into a ball as
shards of sharpened metal stung the ground around me. As far as I was from the
center of the blast, I was surprised by just how many times I was hit by the
wreckage, pieces peppering my back and arms. A steady stinging sensation spread
out across my skin. It didn’t stop me from smiling.
Screams penetrated my covered ears, jagged
and hoarse, only to be severed an instant later by the continuing hail of
deadly missiles. I could hear the
clink
of shrapnel, sounding machine gun fast, as it swept through the makeshift
battlefield, the noise echoing overhead. There was a steady thump of bodies
hitting the ground, wet splashes accompanying the clatter. And while I was
worried I’d done more than just a little collateral damage to the Felurians
hiding out in their homes and shops, there wasn’t much I could do about that. I
hadn’t been the one to choose the location of the scrap.
That was the unfortunate side effect of
war, but it served its purpose no matter what the pacifists and anti-war
protesters might believe. You didn’t win a battle by killing off the entirety
of the enemy army, because that was damn near impossible. No, you won by doing
enough damage to the country that the people there, those who would be left
behind after all the fighting had passed on, were forced to rise up against the
controlling regime or they’d be the ones destroyed. There was no
beating
the enemy; war was all about making
life so miserable that it outweighed the desire for victory or freedom or
whatever motivation they’d been motivating the machine with. Once the desire
was gone, the system fell apart and the fight was over. I was hoping that would
be the case today.
As I clambered to my feet, a quick glance
at my porcupine ass told me that might be the case. While I had metal splinters
poking out of me all over the place, the wounds were minor and I could feel
them healing already. There was none of the sickening, black ooze that
accompanied a mystical injury, for which I was grateful. The cylinders had only
been enhanced with magic, not made of it. Whatever power had gone into their
creation had been spent when they exploded, the energy used to propel the
shrapnel. That made things easier on me and Longinus, but to the Eidolon
folks—those who survived—it didn’t mean shit.
I could hear their moans and wet gasps as I
looked across the field for the ex-AC. Bodies parts were everywhere. It looked
like a leper convention. Green blood covered the ground in artistic splatters,
which could probably be seen from space, there was so much of it. Pieces of the
truck were scattered about amidst the ruin of the Eidolon forces, steel and
mechanical bits welded and scorched together with flesh as to make it
impossible to where one part ended and the other began.
A subtle wave of twitching movements made
the ground look as though it were a carpet crawling with insects. Heads lolled
and eyes swirled in their ruined sockets, fingers and toes dancing under the
instinctive music of tortured nerves. The Eidolon that escaped the brunt of the
explosion headed for the exits, many dragging parts of themselves or companions
behind. It was an exodus of dying turtles, a slow creep toward oblivion. I had
no doubt that many of them would live to see tomorrow, and probably several
days beyond that, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be signing up to do
Gorath’s bidding the next time he needed cannon fodder. A Pyrrhic victory, at
best. I certainly wasn’t winning them over to our side.
At least Longinus had dodged the worst of
it.
He rose up out of a pile of corpses, shrugging
the carcasses aside with a weary huff. It didn’t look as though he’d taken much
additional damage from my stunt, but he sure didn’t look good. His wild hair
was matted with blood, his and the aliens’, with one side plastered to his
cheek and shoulder. Tired, dark eyes peered from sunken sockets. His arms hung
at his side, the blade of his sword dragging in the muck of guts and gore as he
walked toward me. He was mobile. That was something.
“Where have you been?” he asked, and I had
to stifle a smile at the viciousness still present in his voice. There was no
quit in the old guy, that’s for sure.
I brushed the metal shards loose of my
flesh as he came to stand in front of me. “Looking for you, most recently.” The
blue gem out of my pocket and in my palm, I showed it to him. “You’ve had the
line off the hook.”
He glared at the stone and shook his head.
“It must have broken. I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”
You know that feeling you get when you’re
trying to call your significant other but all you get is the answering machine?
You fret and fret that she’s cheating on you, that something bad has happened,
that it’s over and she just couldn’t be bothered to tell you, and then she
calls and says she lost her phone and you’re all elated because it’s nothing
like what you conjured up? That was how I felt right then.
Well, maybe not quite that way. Since there
wasn’t time for a makeup quickie, I would just have to be glad Longinus hadn’t
kicked me to the curb.
“All this,” I motioned to the wreckage around
us, “is nothing more than a trap to wear you down.”
He stared at me a moment before letting his
gaze wander over the mess I’d made in the street. Without a word, he went over
to one of the squirming wounded and lifted the alien up so that they were face
to face. The guy whimpered and hung limp.
“Where is my daughter?”
Green goop bubbled from the Eidolon’s mouth
as he muttered something incomprehensible. His eyes floated like sinking
rowboats in his head. There wouldn’t be any answers coming from him.
“We need to get out of here,” I told
Longinus as he cast the alien aside.
“Do you still fear these creatures?”
He waded through their bodies in search of
another who might have the strength to answer his questions about Karra. I saw
Iriaal’s face amidst the carnage, his expression one of peace. He’d died fast
from the looks of him, long before I’d shown up judging by the lack of shrapnel
wounds. There was no hint of the dagger nearby, its absence nagging. Longinus
just kept stomping on.