The Nekropolis Archives (77 page)

  I'd never been close enough to Carnage to look inside it… him… whatever. The dashboard display was lit with the same crimson glow as his headlights and the interior was done entirely in black. The seats were leather and Devona later told me they felt slightly oily, as if they were living skin. She also said a faint odor of brimstone issued from the car's vents.

  "Wait a minute," Devona said to Overkill. "You can talk to Carnage?"

  "Sure," Overkill said. "There isn't a language in Nekropolis I can't speak, at least well enough to get by. Though I admit I'm not as fluent in possessed automobile as I'd like to be."

  The more time I spent around Overkill, the more impressed I was by her. My feelings must've showed on my face, for Devona leaned forward and punched me none-too-gently on the shoulder.

  "Keep your mind on the job," she said, her fangs fully extended.

  Overkill glanced at Devona in the rearview mirror and just smiled.

  Because Carnage was alive (in a sense) and intelligent, Overkill didn't actually have to drive. She rode behind the wheel, holding on to her P-90, which she'd reloaded as soon as we'd gotten into Carnage, gaze sweeping the street ahead for signs of trouble as we drove. She'd loaned Devona her 9mm, and I had my .45 and both of us had some magical items left over from what Shrike had brought us. We weren't exactly loaded for bear, but we weren't unarmed, either.

  The scenes we saw as we made our way through the Sprawl were nightmarish even by Nekropolis's standards. Victor Baron built his creations to be tough and virtually unstoppable, and so far they'd lived up to their reputation. Buildings had their doors torn from their hinges, their windows shattered, and skeletal streetlights had been snapped in half. Cars – some that had been run off the road by Baron's vehicles, others that had been picked up by his monsters and hurled – were torn and twisted, lying wherever they'd come to rest. And there were bodies of course, more often than not ripped asunder, limbs and organs strewn about the streets like some sort of hellish decorations.

  People were fighting back – this was Nekropolis, after all. Sentinels were out in force, the golems battling fiercely to quell the rioting, but while they were just as powerful as any of Baron's creations, they were seriously outnumbered, and we saw more than one Sentinel fall beneath a pile of savage monsters, never to rise again. I recognized some of the combatants that we passed. Outside Sinsation I saw the club's bouncer trying to get his hands on Eeriegami, but the latter kept folding and unfolding his body into different shapes, slipping out of the monster's grasp every time. In the street near Westerna's, I saw the Bloodborn waitress I thought of as Countess Dolly standing toe to toe with the Frankenstein monster decked out like John Wayne. Dolly clawed deep furrows into the monster's chest, but it didn't stop him from tearing off her head and throwing it as far as he could. Dolly's head flew right past my window and I saw the expression of fury on her face, and though I couldn't read her rapidly moving lips, I doubted she was singing her attacker's praises. As a recently decapitated head myself, I sympathized.

  We even saw Shrike outside the Broken Cross, where he'd teamed up with a midget vampire called Anklebiter. The latter would run up to one of Baron's monsters and sink his teeth into the flesh of its leg. When the creature opened its mouth to howl in pain, Shrike transformed into smoke, flowed into the creature's mouth and down into its lungs, where he partially solidified, causing some serious damage. The monster would cough up copious amounts of blood and then fall to the ground, out of action. Shrike would then emerge and resolidify and he and Anklebiter would start looking around for another monster to tackle.

  I had a lot of friends and acquaintances throughout the city, and I hoped that they'd have the good fortune – and good sense – to reach a hiding place where they'd be safe from the rampaging monsters, though I knew that most of them, like Shrike, were probably out in the thick of the chaos, fighting to protect their home. I found myself thinking of Tavi, Scorch and yes, even Bogdan, and wondering how they were faring right then. I'm sure they were on Devona's mind as well, but as neither of us had voxes at the moment, we couldn't call and check on them. As it was, all we could do was try our best to get to the Foundry, stop Victor Baron, and put an end to the violence ravaging the city as swiftly as possible.

  Before long we drew close to the intersection where the Dominari warehouse was located, and it looked like we were going to reach it without further incident.

  I should've known better.

  As we rounded the corner, Carnage hit his brakes and came to a screeching stop. The street before us was filled with Baron's creatures – male and female, some battle damaged but still functional, all of them huge, grotesque and completely insane, thanks to the power of Osseal's song.

  "We should've expected this," I said. "It looks like Baron has ordered his creations to join ranks and began an organized assault on the city."

  "Maybe we can go around them," Devona said.

  "Let's go through," Overkill said. She pushed a button on Carnage's dash and I expected to hear the ratcheting noise of his hood mounted machine gun activating. But instead a humming sound came from the rear of the vehicle, and I turned around to see a new weapon rising from the trunk. It had a long barrel like a gun, and a thick rubber hose extended from the back, connecting it to something in the trunk I couldn't see.

  I turned to Overkill. "What's that?"

  "Flamethrower," she said, grinning.

  The weapon continued rising until it extended above Carnage's roof. The mass of monsters had continued to advance while Carnage had been deploying the flamethrower and now they were almost upon us. We didn't wait for Carnage to attack. The three of us leaned out and started firing our weapons. Overkill let loose with her P-90 and I fired my .45. Instead of using her borrowed 9mm, though, Devona selected one of the items Shrike had brought us – an explosive hawthorn ball. She hurled the device into the crowd of monsters and it burst apart in a shower of deadly sharp thorns. Devona immediately followed up by employing the 9mm.

  None of our efforts produced any casualties, but the weapons fire gave the monsters pause, allowing Carnage to finish getting his flamethrower into position and activate it. A stream of flame shot into the creatures' ranks, and they bellowed in pain and anger as their clothes caught fire and their flesh blackened and burned. According to Devona, the stench was horrific. Carnage continued spraying fire at the monsters, swiveling the flamethrower back and forth to get as many as possible. Roaring, Baron's army backed up to get away from the deadly flames.

  No one especially likes being hosed by fire – with the possible exception of Scorch – but Frankenstein monsters are especially susceptible to it (as am I, dry-fleshed thing that I am). In their case, there's something about the chemicals Baron uses as part of the reanimation process that react violently to fire, and as we watched, those monsters who were burning most furiously swelled up like balloons and exploded in showers of crispy black skin and steaming gore. Those explosions alarmed the surviving monsters even more, and they quickly moved out of our path.

  Carnage started forward again, rolling slowly and spraying fire back and forth as we went, while Devona, Overkill and I continued to fire our weapons at any creature who took it into his or her head to risk the fire and come toward us. It was slow going, but we made it to the end of the block. Unfortunately Carnage's flamethrower was running out of fuel and the length and strength of the flame stream was severely diminished. The surviving monsters didn't fail to take note of this and they were beginning to mass together and approach again, making sure to stay just out of the flamethrower's newly limited range.

  "That's the building we want!" I pointed to the warehouse, and Carnage zoomed over the curb and parked.

  "This is our stop," I said to Overkill as I reached for my door handle. "Thanks for the help."

  She grabbed hold of my arm to stop me. "I'm going with you. There's no way I'm going to miss out on the main event!"

  "You don't understand. You
can't
come with us." I wanted to explain to her that Devona and I were both under a spell that wouldn't allow us to reveal the truth about where we were going and that our heads would explode if we ever tried. But of course, the tongue worm prevented me from doing even that much, and I felt a sudden stabbing pain in my mouth which, considering that I had no functioning nerves there, came as a shock to me.

  Devona glanced out the car window.

  "We don't have time for this," she said. "The monsters are coming." She leaned forward, grabbed Overkill by the shoulders, and turned the woman halfway around to face her. Devona's eyes flared red and she hissed a single word. "
Sleep
!"

  Overkill tried to resist, but the psychic powers of a half-vampire are formidable, and Devona's had only gotten stronger since I'd met her. Overkill's eyes rolled up in her head, and she slumped over onto me, snoring softly. I gently pushed her off me and scooted over so she could lie flat on the seat.

  "Carnage," Devona said, "as soon as we get out, take her away from here as fast as you can."

  Carnage didn't respond at first, and Devona sighed. "Don't worry. If we make it through this, we'll see to it you get paid one way or another. You have our word on it."

  Carnage might not be able to speak English, but the Caddy understood it well enough. He tooted his horn once, Devona and I climbed out, and he lost no time in peeling out of there, knocking aside several of Baron's creatures in the process. He didn't bother using his flamethrower, and I knew that the weapon was out of fuel. I hoped Carnage and Overkill would make it to safety. They might have been mercenaries, but we'd never have made it to the warehouse without their help. Of course, getting here was no guarantee that we'd survive to get inside. Without the threat of Carnage's flamethrower to keep them at bay, Baron's monsters were closing in on us fast.

  We ran to the closest door and found it locked. Devona kicked it in and we ran inside, but at the threshold I paused. The nearest monster was almost within grabbing distance of me and I knew that we needed some kind of diversion to slow him and his buddies down long enough to get to the Underwalk entrance. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the first object that came to hand and threw it at the monster. The flea bomb – which I'd originally considered using against Ferdinand – was a smooth piece of amber inside of which was trapped a single insect. But when the amber struck the monster's chest, it burst open and hundreds of fleas poured forth, covering his body. Within seconds the fleas found their way beneath their new host's clothing and began biting. The monster roared in irritation and began slapping at his body, trying to crush the pests gnawing at him, but there were too many. He stood there, gyrating and contorting as he scratched and smacked himself, making a very effective door block that prevented his fellow monsters from getting past. And when they got too close some of the fleas leaped from his body to theirs. Within moments the entire mass of monsters was scratching frantically, trying to dislodge the fleas infesting their bodies. That's the beautiful thing about flea bombs: once activated, the number of fleas continues to magically increase until all host bodies in the area are infested. It's a diabolically nasty joke, one of Hop Frog's best, and I mentally thanked Shrike for picking it up for me before I turned and followed Devona into the warehouse.

SIXTEEN

Getting into the Underwalk was a simple matter of opening a hidden panel in the floor and climbing down a ladder. The panel was spelled so only people with tongue worms could open it and, though I didn't know for sure, I guessed there was a number of lethal security precautions in place in case someone without a tongue worm somehow managed to get into the tunnel.

  Once we reached the bottom of the ladder a fluorescent light panel in the ceiling activated. Devona and I looked around, but we were alone and there were no Dominari trams in sight. Considering the latter were driven by vermen reanimated by Victor Baron, I decided that wasn't a bad thing.

  Since there was no way the monsters pursuing us could get into the tunnel, I took a few moments to reload my .45. Devona, unfortunately, had no extra ammunition for her 9mm, and she tucked it into the back waistband of her skirt. I used up the last of my own ammo refilling the .45's clip, so I'd need to be stingy with my bullets from here on out since I wasn't likely to stumble across anymore boxes of ammo lying around in the Underwalk.

  "Do you remember the way?" Devona asked.

  "To Tenebrus, yes. But after that, your guess is as good as mine."

  "Let's start heading in that direction," she said. "It'll at least get us halfway to the Foundry. After that, we'll play it by ear."

  "Sounds like a plan," I said, and we started walking.

  We hadn't walked for ten minutes before we saw the headlights of a tram heading toward us, the electric hum of the engine getting louder as it drew near.

  "I think we may have just found ourselves a ride," I said.

  I stepped into the middle of the tunnel, directly into the tram's path. Devona joined me, though I would've preferred her to keep close to the tunnel wall where it was safer. I didn't say anything, however. Devona is just as capable as I am in dangerous situations. Besides, I knew she wouldn't listen to me.

  The light panels on the ceiling above the tram had trouble activating fast enough to illuminate the vehicle's progress and we could only catch glimpses of the vehicle and its driver as they moved from patches of light to patches of darkness, but those glimpses were enough to confirm that the tram was being driven my a reanimated verman and like all the other creations of Victor Baron's we'd seen, this one was caught in the grip of bloodlust.

  The creature aimed the tram directly at me and from the bloodstains covering the vehicle's front I knew I wouldn't be the verman's first victim since Osseal began singing its song of death and destruction. But then, I didn't intend to just stand there and let the reanimated ratman run me down.