Cloak Games: Rebel Fist (11 page)

“Do you think there’s something wrong with us?” 

I glanced at him. 

“You’re hurt?” I said.

“No, no,” said Russell. “It’s just…Lydia was really upset.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning the Charioteer around a corner. We weren’t far from Wisconsin Avenue. A little further north, and I could turn onto Wisconsin Avenue, make my way to 68th street, and then to the Marneys’ house. I hoped the Archons hadn’t thought to seize Wisconsin Avenue yet. “Well, she had a rough day.”

“So did we,” said Russell. “You know, I heard that when you kill someone, you’re supposed to be upset about it.”

I thought back upon the people I had killed during my various errands for Morvilind. “It depends upon the circumstances.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Russell. “I mean, that orc would have killed you, and the other one would have taken Lydia prisoner and killed us if he got the chance. Lydia just sort of shut down.”

“And you didn’t,” I said.

“No,” said Russell.

“People respond differently to danger,” I said. “You’ve already…faced the prospect of your own death, you know? You know you’re mortal. Most teenagers think they’ll live forever. Might be the first time Lydia almost died. Or maybe you’re made of sterner stuff than Lydia.”

“Well, she is a girl,” said Russell.

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. “And I’m not? Wait, wait. I know, I’m your sister, that’s different.”

“Yeah,” said Russell. “I might have shot those orcs, but you’re the one who got us out.”

I shrugged. “I got lucky.” 

We drove in silence for a while, the engine rasping. I reached Wisconsin Avenue and turned right, tapping the gas for a little more speed. To our left stretched the medical college, a sprawling complex of white buildings that both trained medical students and dealt with casualties from the High Queen’s campaigns in the Shadowlands. 

“I wonder what our father was like,” said Russell.

“Eh?” I said, surprised by the change in topic. 

“Maybe he kept his cool in danger, too,” said Russell, scratching at his white hair. “I don’t know, though. I don’t remember anything about him.”

“You were too young,” I said. “I remember a little. I do know he was in the Wizards’ Legion.” Likely I had inherited my magical ability from him. Which was how all our troubles had started, come to think of it. My father had contracted frostfever and passed it to Russell and my mother. Our parents died of it, and Morvilind recruited me, training me into his own private thief. “I suppose he saw combat. That must be how he knew James and Lucy.”

“If we live through this,” said Russell, “I think I’ll ask them about it.” I glanced at him. “I think I would like to know more about…”

The fact that I was looking at him was the only thing that saved our lives.

A white van hurtled from an alleyway between two apartment buildings, going at least fifty miles an hour. I should have heard it coming, but the noise from the Charioteer’s dying engine drowned out the van. On sheer panicked reflex I slammed on the gas and twisted the wheel to the side, the tires screeching. The van would have hit us broadside, right on the front passenger’s side door. Instead the van clipped the car’s rear bumper with enough force to send us skidding. Russell yelped, and the Charioteer careened off a row of parked cars on the other side of the street as I wrestled with the wheel. The white van smashed into a parked car, but an instant later it backed into the street, swinging around after us. 

“Idiots!” said Russell, peering over his shoulder. “Didn’t they see us coming?” 

I shook my head. “No. They were aiming for us. Must be Rebels or something. I…” 

I shot a look in the rearview mirror to see the van roaring after us, still functioning despite its impact with the parked car. I saw the driver and the man sitting in the passenger seat…

My blood went cold. 

They weren’t Rebels. 

For one thing, the men were identical. They were both gaunt with slicked-back black hair, clad in black suits, black ties, and crisp white shirts, their eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. I had seen men who looked like that before. 

Of course, they weren’t really men. They just knew how to look human. The creatures were anthrophages, monstrosities from the Shadowlands.

Now the murderous, dangerous creatures had caught up with me again…and this time Russell was with me.

Chapter 6: Shadow Blades

“Oh, hell,” I said, stomping on the gas. “Hell, hell, hell.” 

The Charioteer groaned as I pressed the accelerator, but didn’t go much faster. 

“What is it?” said Russell. “Who are those guys?” 

The van kept pursuing us. I wondered if its engine had been damaged in the collision. If it hadn’t, the van could outpace the failing Charioteer and simply ram us. 

“They’re not Rebels,” I said, pushing the gas to the floor. The car got up to about fifty, but the noise was horrendous. “They’re not even human.” 

“What?” said Russell. 

The white van drew nearer. Another few yards and it would hit us.

“Russell,” I said. “Start shooting. Aim for their engine. Hurry!” 

Russell nodded, twisted around in his seat, and took aim with his AK-47. The van drew within a few feet of our back bumper, and Russell started shooting, the crack of the shots loud in my ear and the smell of cordite thick in my nostrils. The back window had already been cracked from our escape, and it exploded as Russell’s bullets passed through it. Holes appeared in the van’s crumpled hood, and the vehicle jerked. I yelled and gave the accelerator another push, and we started to put distance between us, the van falling back as the anthrophages swerved to avoid Russell’s shots. Bullets couldn’t hurt a lot of things from the Shadowlands, but they could kill an anthrophage, if shot through the head. 

“Come on,” I said, glancing over my shoulder as Russell sent another round into the white van, “come on, just a little farther, come on…”

“Nadia,” said Russell. “Who are those guys? They look…I think they look identical.” 

“They don’t look identical,” I said. “They are identical. They’re things from the Shadowlands, creatures called anthrophages. They can make themselves look human and, well…uh, they eat people.”

The Charioteer shuddered again, and suddenly every light on the dashboard turned on. 

“Are they with the Archons?” said Russell. He fired again. Another hole appeared in the van’s hood, but the bulky vehicle was gaining, probably because the Charioteer was losing speed. 

“No,” I said. “They’re after me, personally.”

“You?” said Russell. “Why?” 

“Long story,” I said. A van that size could hold fourteen anthrophages, maybe fifteen. With my spells, I could take one or two anthrophages in a fight, but fifteen anthrophages would rip me apart, and then would kill Russell for good measure. 

I had to slow them down. If Russell kept shooting, he might disable the van before it caught up to us, but that was chancy. Getting out of the car and trying to find a place to hide would be suicide. Maybe if I threw a globe of lightning into the van I could disable it, or cause the gas tank to explode…

An explosion…

I remembered the two grenades I had taken from the dead orcish soldier at the mall. I shifted to a one-handed grip on the wheel, my free hand digging in my pocket, and I yanked one of the grenades loose. It had a small timer and a steel pin to arm the detonator. 

“Is that a grenade?” said Russell.

“Yep,” I said. “Hold on. This is going to get rough.” I set the timer for two seconds and glanced over my shoulder at the van. It was gaining on us, and I pushed down the gas pedal, eliciting another furious roar from the engine. I tried to gauge the distance to the van, realized that this was as good as I was going to get, and pulled the grenade’s pin.

Russell started to say something, and I flung the grenade out the back window. It bounced off the battered trunk and rolled into the street, and the white van drove over it. 

Then it exploded. 

The shock wave would have shattered the Charioteer’s windows if they hadn’t been already gone, and as it was I was jerked forward, the seat belt digging into my chest. A plume of white smoke engulfed the van, and its front end lifted off the ground, its windows shattering in a spray of glass shards. The van’s momentum carried it forward, and the vehicle tipped onto its side, rolled once, and slammed into the parked cars lining the street. 

Before it even came to a halt I saw the anthrophages crawling out of the broken windows like insects boiling from a disturbed nest. 

“They’re still coming after us,” said Russell, shocked. “That should have killed at least some of them.” 

“They’re like cockroaches,” I said. “Really mean, vicious, man-eating giant cockroaches. Really hard to kill. I don’t think we can fight them. Our only chance is to get as far away from them as we can…”

As if on cue, smoke started boiling up from beneath the Charioteer’s hood. 

“Oh,” I said. I pushed the gas, and a dull whine came from the engine, followed by silence. All the lights on the dashboard went dark. “Oh, hell.”

The car starting slowing. I looked around in alarm. There was no way we could outrun the anthrophages on foot. We needed another vehicle, right now. There were parked cars on the street, and given enough time I could pick the locks and jump-start the vehicles. 

Russell and I didn’t have that kind of time. I guessed we had maybe two minutes, tops, before the anthrophages caught up to us. 

We were right in front of the medical college’s array of gleaming white buildings. More to the point, we were right in front of the massive parking ramp attached to the medical college. A sloped driveway ran up to it, passing between two rectangular retaining ponds. If we could get hide in there and throw off the anthrophages’ pursuit, I could find and steal another vehicle. Hell, maybe I could find one of the medical college’s own vehicles with the keys nearby. 

“Uh,” said Russell. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” I said, hitting the brakes. Those, at least, still worked, and the Charioteer creaked to its final halt. “We’re heading for the parking garage. We’ll find and steal another car before the anthrophages find us. Ready to run?”

“Do I have a choice?” said Russell, pushing open the door.

“Nope,” I said. I kicked open my own door, gathered up my own AK-47, and got to my feet. 

Then we ran like hell up the driveway. The frostfever might have made Russell skinny and gaunt for his age, but it hadn’t damaged his ability to run. In fact, with his longer legs, he was faster than I was. He reached the attendant’s booth before I did and turned to wait for me, his face full of anxiety. I joined him and looked back towards Wisconsin Avenue. In the distance I saw the black-suited forms of the disguised anthrophages pursuing us. I shot a quick look into the attendant’s booth, but it was deserted, and I didn’t see the keys for any vehicles inside. 

“Come on,” I said, and led him into the gloom.

There should have been electric lights overhead, but with the power outage, they were all dead. Sunlight poured in through the windows from the west, throwing tangled black shadows over the rows of parked cars. I jogged along the vehicles, looking for an older model. 

“Should we go into the hospital?” said Russell. “There might be Homeland Security officers there.”

“No,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to explain to a Homeland Security officer why an anthrophage had been chasing me, though I supposed I could always dissolve into hysterics if necessary. “They won’t know how to fight anthrophages…and hospitals are full of sick people. The anthrophages might go after them.”

“Oh,” said Russell. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

The cold, logical part of my mind pointed out that the people in the hospital might make an excellent distraction while Russell and I made our escape. I dismissed the idea at once. I would like to say it was because I didn’t want to sacrifice a building full of sick people, but I knew the anthrophages had come here with a mission. They would kill me first, and then Russell…and then they would reward themselves for a job well done by rampaging through the hospital. 

If I wanted to save anyone, I had to get away. 

I spotted an old Duluth Motors two-door sedan painted an unfortunate shade of brown. Maybe it belonged to a proctology resident or something. A lot of cars came with encrypted chips in the keys for security, but encrypted chip systems were expensive, which meant that cheaper models of cars often did not include them. 

This model of car was one of them.

I smashed out the driver’s side window with the stock of my gun, unlocked it, and pulled open the door. “Get in.”

Russell circled around the car and got into the passenger’s side, and I dropped into the driver’s seat. Fast food wrappers littered the floor, and the interior of the car smelled like grease and body odor. Evidently our proctology resident did not have a lot of time for healthy eating or bathing. I pried off the side of the steering column and started fiddling with the wires.

“Russell,” I said. “If any of those anthrophages show up, shoot them in the head. Don’t hesitate. That’s the only way to kill them.”

“Will it kill them?” said Russell.

“Actually, I think if they’re killed on Earth, their bodies disintegrate and reform in the Shadowlands,” I said, pulling on one of the wires. “The only way to kill them permanently is in the Shadowlands, and I really don’t want to do that.” The engine coughed once, and then went still. I cursed in fury and pulled on more wires. 

“What did you do to tick them off?” said Russell.

“Met one of their elders,” I said. “Told him his breath stank from eating so many people, and he took it personally.” I wasn’t about to tell Russell about the cult of the Dark Ones. People died for possessing that kind of information. “I think…there we go!” 

The engine came to life, and I put the car into reverse, shot into the aisle, and spun the vehicle towards the gate.

As I did, a dozen anthrophages rushed into the parking garage. Their forms blurred and shifted as they cast aside their human guise and took their true shapes. They looked vaguely man-shaped, tall and thin and skeletal, still clad in their ragged black suits. Ropy muscles moved beneath their glistening gray hides, and some of them ran on two legs, but others ran on all fours like hideous giant insects. Jagged black claws jutted from their fingers and toes, and their eyes were venomous yellow pits. They did not have noses, only triangular pits in the center of their faces. Their ears were long and pointed, and a row of black spikes jutted from their spines. Even inside the car I could smell them, a mixture of rotting meat and sulfur.