The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (61 page)

“You weep for one dead man.” Gabriel’s teeth
flashed threateningly. “And you command?”

“But we must lament each loss.” Updike drew a
hand across his eyes.

“And while you stink and fuss and drool
empires are lost.” Rage gripped the Angel. “Human frailty has kept
me bound too long.” He knelt now. His wings formed a wall around
Updike. “I run errands in the firmament while you squabble over
water holes.” Gabriel’s eyes were piercing. Updike could feel his
breath on his cheeks—it smelled of cinnamon. “You served me well
enough, man, as you should. But your weakness threatens my purpose
and so your service ends.” He hefted his sword. “Your martyrdom
will rally your troops.”

Before Updike could understand the threat
Gabriel thrust the burning sword through his chest. His heart
jerked and lurched painfully, flame poured from his mouth and nose.
The heat from the blade blistered his chin, set his clothes on
fire. Gabriel pulled him close; his words were scented with
frankincense. The Angel’s piercing eyes bore through him, gleaming
red in the dark.

“I will lead
my
army.” Updike slid
down the length of the sword and onto the ground. A great gout of
blood boiled out of him.

With his dying eyes he watched Gabriel wings
spread, as he called to nearby soldiers. “The Demons have slain
poor Updike! We must slay their masters in turn! We will clean this
City!”

Updike’s vision darkened, his mind grew
dim—he saw faces that he could name. Breath all bloody bubbles, his
lips writhed and were still.

87 – Exodus

Mr. Jay moved to the front of the bus when it
slowed, and the kids crowded around the windows to see the inland
wall approaching. It wrapped out of the dark from left and right
and was lit evenly by emergency lights. There were other lights
too, glowing on the buses ahead and it was soon obvious that
something was burning.

Dawn pushed past the gawking kids to where
Mr. Jay crouched beside the driver. The bus crawled by the burning
shapes of armored vehicles and tanks. Mr. Jay shielded Dawn’s eyes
when they passed the first of the bodies—grownups in uniforms.

“What in hell happened to those gates?”
Whistles blurted suddenly.

“The Creature sent Nightcare fighters to open
them up,” Liz explained matter-of-factly.

“Man,” sighed Marcus. “Those are some angry
kids!”

“Can you blame them?” Mr. Jay patted the
driver’s shoulder.

And then the bus passed the battered gates.
They were hanging on torn hinges burning and ripped like a giant
had broken them.

The convoy had made good time crossing
Zero.

Dawn had never been so nervous and scared
while she had waited for Mr. Jay to finish talking to that Creature
girl. Almost an hour ago now, she went with the magician to one of
the big old school buses that Whistles had rounded up.

The
disguised
forever girl said she
got them through the Salvation Army. They were used mostly for
transporting the living and dead to construction jobs and the like.
They also used old buses donated by various companies for
transporting the poor to soup kitchens and church revival meetings
so Whistles said they had a fair collection of them to rent. That
also explained why the buses she got were of many different types
and in such varied states of disrepair. Whistles said fuel would
have been a big problem, if the Creature hadn’t had the kids hiding
it around Zero for decades.

Dawn followed Mr. Jay, Liz and the Quinlan
boys out to an old rusted school bus. It was the last in a line of
seven. There were a couple big vans and trucks up front too.
Forever kids were everywhere, and Whistles joked they were piled
two-deep. She had found a cigar somewhere and was chewing it as she
walked with them. Whistles had also grumbled about losing her
bar.

“Ah well, not a place for a nine-year-old
girl anyway.”

A couple of the bigger boys had carried
little Conan out. He had some new bandages on him and Dawn was very
worried. She admired his spirit and she could tell that Mr. Jay was
worried too, and close to tears when he looked at him. Whistles
hovered around Conan and had since given up trying to get the
deadly glove off the boy.

The Nightcare fighters were everywhere: boys
and girls wearing armor and padding and weapons. Dawn had asked Mr.
Jay about the curious belts some wore with metal balls clipped to
them.

“Grenades, Dawn,” he had said dredging up a
smile. “Dangerous explosives.” He looked at the little kids wearing
the belts and he shook his head. “Not supposed to be this way…”

Dawn kept a tight grip on Mr. Jay’s hand when
he had gathered with the other drivers. The strange grownups and
two forever teens had a wild look to them though they were worried
too she could tell. She also liked the way they helped the forever
kids and comforted the little ones who were getting too scared.

“What’s your plan?” Mr. Jay had asked one, a
black woman named Dahlia. Whistles had told him she was in charge
of the drivers.

“The battle’s concentrated in the west. More
troops coming from the southwest so it’s going to chase us through
the north gate.” She had looked around the crew. “The Creature just
said to get the kids out.” Dahlia’s dark eyes flashed. “And she
said to trust you.”

Mr. Jay had lowered his eyes and was lost for
words for a minute. Dawn squeezed his hand until he looked over at
her and smiled.

“North suits me fine,” he said and pulled
Dawn forward. “This is Dawn.” She had looked up and nodded
sheepishly. “She knows where we’re going. There’s a safe place in
the north.” Then he turned from driver to driver lingering on their
eyes. “Take the northern highway three hundred miles until you find
an old town called Severance. Go forty miles west of it until you
get to a lake. A big one—it’s new, so you won’t find it on a map.
There’s an old camp on the road called Jelly Bean Park. Wait
there.” He smiled at Dawn. “Someone will come for you. Don’t worry
if it’s a giant.”

The drivers’ eyes went wide on that point,
but they all nodded clearly storing those directions in their
memories.

“Other than that,” Mr. Jay had said. “Get out
of the City as fast as you can. Fight any resistance as hard as you
can. And don’t stop for anything.” He looked up and around. “All
this is going to burn.”

Dawn had followed Mr. Jay onto their bus.
They found Liz and the Quinlan boys there, and Whistles sitting
close to Conan in an open space at the rear of the vehicle. The
bench seats were packed with forever kids: three or four across if
their sizes permitted it. It was a struggle to get to Conan and the
others.

Mr. Jay knelt beside the Nightcare fighter as
the bus pulled away at the rear of the convoy. The magician had
slipped his fingers under the brim of the little fighter’s helmet,
and flipped the mask aside. Dawn thought it the strangest thing,
but there was Conan. His eyes were an intense green in a little
boy’s face that seemed to float in a sea of curly brown hair. His
nose was small, his teeth were tiny and his lips were full and red.
He smiled up at Mr. Jay but then winced at his pain.

“We’ll get a splint on that ankle, soldier,”
Mr. Jay said and then asked Whistles for some water and
bandages.

Dawn looked down at Conan whose intense green
eyes were staring at her. “He likes you a lot,” she had said,
without jealousy. “I like you too.”

The little fighter smiled and rolled his
eyes.

Like the other forever kids Dawn had been
excited by the prospect of freedom, and was overwhelmed by their
nighttime ride through the City. All the decades of hiding now over
apparently and celebrated with this scenic tour. True it was early
morning and dark, and it was on Zero, but they crowded eagerly at
the windows to watch the City pass. There was still some traffic,
and more than anything the kids enjoyed the looks of surprise on
people who saw them. Drivers and pedestrians were motionless; their
mouths dropped open, as the line of children-filled buses
passed.

They traveled quickly past rundown buildings
and shabby businesses and neighborhoods. But there were few people
on the streets.

“The dead have gone to war,” Mr. Jay had said
after he bandaged Conan’s leg. “They’re out there with the
others.”

And soon the buses moved through
neighborhoods that were abandoned; the buildings either replaced or
incorporated into the massive support structures of concrete and
steel that held the upper levels in place.

And here they were at the edge of the City
passing through the broken gates. The buses began to pick up speed
as the road opened before them. Dawn could see right away that lots
of light and flashes were coming from the left, or
west
. And
there was the booming roar of jet planes and explosions.

“Faster,” Mr. Jay said under his breath. He
was watching out the window. In the distance, tanks and armored
trucks were firing bombs and spraying flames at a long line of
people. The machines scorched everything in their paths until a man
with wings, an Angel, dropped out of the sky. His burning sword
sliced a tank in half and it exploded.

Other things were running and fighting—things
like men, and worse, monsters that fought the Angels and the people
and the tanks. There were explosions and fires everywhere. Dawn
didn’t know what to think!

A jet fell out of the sky and exploded just
ahead of them, and pieces of metal smashed into one of the buses
pushing its side in, but it kept going.

“Keep down,” Mr. Jay said, with a protective
arm over Dawn. “We have to go faster.”

Soon the road approached great ramps where it
would swoop up to join the elevated highway. But the ramps were
still a long way off when they passed something that Dawn could not
believe. The grownup voice inside her head warned:
Don’t look,
Dawn
! But she did.

It was at the side of the road, ripping and
tearing at soldiers in a ruined transport. It had the body of a
dog, but it was huge—a bit taller than the bus, with a gigantic
head and skin like a reptile. Its long snout carried jagged teeth,
and its burning red eyes watched the buses speed pass. Its lips
rolled back and they all heard it snarl before it skulked off into
the darkness.

Mr. Jay jumped to the window by Conan.

“Hellhound,” he hissed, glancing over as the
Nightcare fighters loaded their weapons.

“Holy Shit!” Marcus yelled from the
front.

Suddenly the windows, wall and emergency exit
at the rear of the bus were torn away with an explosive screech of
steel and a shower of glass. The Hellhound fell back shaking a
mouthful of metal. It howled as the bus sped away and came lunging
swiftly after. Mr. Jay quickly reached out for the kids on the
benches, pulled those to safety who hadn’t already jumped clear.
Whistles and the Nightcare fighters climbed up on seats and started
firing into the darkness.

The bus shuddered, as a great pair of jaws
clamped down on the roof, and ripped more metal away. The Nightcare
fighters fired their guns. Bullets sparked off the horrid fangs
that snapped in the opening.

Dawn was pushed toward the front of the bus
with the other kids. More screaming as the Hellhound bit the bus
again, sending it shaking and swaying onto two wheels. They could
see the thing now loping after them.

It snapped at their bus again. Its long hard
teeth caught the undercarriage and lifted the vehicle for a second.
It bounced, and a forever girl lost her balance. She tumbled off
her seat and fell out the back of the bus. Mr. Jay leapt and caught
her legs in time.

But the Hellhound howled, and surged forward
eyes burning for blood before the magician could pull her back
inside.

And there was Conan. His helmet was snapped
closed. He fanned the air with his murderous glove. He reached out
to a Nightcare fighter firing her gun and unclipped the belt of
grenades.

The Hellhound was bellowing. Forever kids
were trying to pull Mr. Jay and the girl to safety.

Whistles was firing her gun to no effect.

Conan slung the grenade belt over his
shoulder and then pressed his masked face against Whistles’ head.
He whispered something and ran.

Conan charged over Mr. Jay’s back and jumped
at the Hellhound.

“No!” Dawn and everybody cried, “No!” But it
was too late, and they watched as the thing snapped at Conan in the
air but his nimble feet kicked against its nose. The little
Nightcare fighter flipped forward onto the monster’s forehead. The
beast whined when Conan slashed its eyeballs with his
killing-glove. The Hellhound shook its head and knocked him off but
Conan landed on his feet some yards away.

Mr. Jay had just produced his metal walking
stick and had stoked it up to a radiant brilliance when the
Hellhound’s massive jaws snapped closed over Conan where he
stood.

Everybody screamed as it swung its head back
to swallow him.

Then the Hellhound’s head exploded in a
flaming ball of red.

The bus kept speeding forward. Wind whipped
over the kids inside. The guns stopped firing.

Dawn hurried over to Mr. Jay and grabbed his
hand. He looked at her: his face torn by grief.

88 – Balg’s Final Deal

Felon’s eyes snapped open. He shuddered—the
echo of claws in flesh. A blanket was draped over him. Whipping it
aside he swung his legs over the mattress and sat up. Pain made the
action arthritic. He lost count of the stitches in his left thigh.
The blood was sticky along the sutures. Pain pounded in from all
over his body. Raising his left arm was difficult. It was stitched
and bandaged. Thin black lines traced the skin past the stained
cotton. It had a gangrenous look. He tried to flex the fingers.
They moved, but the effort produced beads of sweat on his brow. He
was hurting, but not enough. Someone had given him painkillers.