Vanishing Rain (Blue Spectrum Chronicles Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter 28

Mutant

In a series of about five quick movements, Troll zinged something at the beast.  I could hear a thud each time the animal was hit, but I was paralyzed, clinging to the dingy wall.  Neither Pan nor Garment had told me about an animal like this, what to do if I encountered one. Ear splitting roars spewed from the huge beast in quick succession and a terrible smell, like burning cottage cheese stung my nostrils as it sped closer.   I was standing up, the pup backing me up against the wall when Troll yelled at me, his voice frantic. “Help me, damn it.”

That kicked me out of my stupor.  I snatched a knife as quickly as I could, took in a deep breath and aimed at what I thought would be the creature’s heart.  By then, there were only about five feet between the beast and us.  The knife flew out of my hand and I cringed as it hit the beast.  A deafening roar followed. 

I pulled another knife out, aimed, and flung it desperately at the hideous, roaring animal. This time I hit it in its left shoulder, followed by one of Troll’s knives.  It faltered for a second, swaying on huge, bare feet with purplish blood oozing out of the middle of its chest and shoulder.  But that didn’t stop the beast. It let out another ear splitting growl, this one resonating with fury, and its breath licked my body, a monster’s kiss.

“Holy fuck,” Troll yelled.  For just a second silence slithered into the tunnel, the beast wearing a blank, confused expression.  Who knew, maybe it didn’t like swearing.  But it was just a lull, and the giant animal lunged at us again, its arms wide and teeth bared.   The pup was nipping at its feet and at one point the beast caught the poor thing, sending her body flying against the wall with a sickening thump. 

Troll jumped out at it then, just took a flying leap right into it.
“No!” I screamed.  I had just met Troll and actually wasn’t very fond of him on any level, but I certainly didn’t want to watch him get killed by the horrid creature.

Troll was in the grasp of the giant beast, its arms wrapped crudely around his thin, sinewy body. Then Troll let out a yell that was so similar to the beast’s that hair stood up on end on my arms.  The creature faltered for just a second, and Troll swore out loud, each word a sentence of its own.  “You. Mother. Fucker.”  I grasped another knife in my hand, but I was afraid to aim it in fear that I might hit Troll.

Then Troll did the strangest thing.  He was eye to eye with the creature, its arms still wrapped around him, long claws digging into his flesh.

Troll reached his head back, and with full force, head butted the creature.  A loud crack followed that ping ponged off the subway walls.  Then, only silence.  I was immobilized, gawking at the beast as it faltered, its arms falling away from Troll’s lean, blood covered body.

Troll leaped back, an agile gymnast, as the beast slowly toppled to the floor of the tunnel, blood spurting out of its wounds.  In one loud thump it hit the ground.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” Troll yelled at the top of his lungs.  He was rubbing his forehead and I just stood there, dazed, holding a knife loosely in my hand.  A huge reddish purple lump was forming on Troll’s forehead, and blood leaked from cuts the beast had inflicted on his arms and back.

“Is it…is it dead?” I wheezed, my hands shaking, vibrating out of control.  My knife fell to the ground, clanking with a resounding echo.

“Fucker better be,” Troll exclaimed, his breath hitting my cheeks in hot bursts. His chest was heaving back and forth as if it was difficult to breathe and he shakily wiped his bloody hand across his forehead.

For a few minutes we both just stood there, staring at the prone beast, an odd color of blood seeping out of its wounds onto the grimy subway floor. 

I reached for another knife, tip toeing up to the ugly beast. I knelt down carefully, ready to bolt at any movement should it still be alive. I checked for breathing, but its chest wasn’t moving.  Blood was forming a gigantic lake of purplish red around its body.  I stepped back until I was right next to Troll again.

“What is it…what was that thing?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

He was holding his head with both hands now, as if he was hurting.  “Mutant,” he grunted.

“There really are mutants?”  We were told in Citizen School that they were fictitious creatures. 
“Yeah. Fucking mutant.  Just what we needed.”  I assumed that he was being sarcastic. Troll ambled over to the beast and kicked it with his boot.  It didn’t move.  He kicked it again for good measure.

Watching him, I asked, “Is your head okay?”              

“Yeah.  It hurts like a bitch but I’ll make it.”  He kneeled down next to the mutant and began pulling our knives out of it.  He wiped the blood off of each one onto his pants.  If it was his knife, he pocketed it.  If it was mine, he tossed it to me.  I reached down each time he threw me one and placed the knife carefully back onto my belt.

It was oddly quiet after the fight with the beast.  Troll continued his work and lifting my head, I gagged, the smell in the subway tunnel swirling angrily into my nostrils, a mixture of rotten meat and metallic blood.  Just then a whine filled the tunnel, a small pathetic sound.  At first I thought it was the mutant, and then I realized it must be the pup.  I had forgotten about her. 

Guilt ripped through me as I twisted in a circle, scanning the gory scene for her body.  I let out a breath when I spotted her lying on the opposite end of the wall.  I ran toward her, kneeling by her prone body.  Troll was right behind me. 

The pup opened her eyes, and I could tell she was hurt.  She whined again, her tail hitting the concrete floor in little wisps.  I pursed my lips, trying not to cry.  I hadn’t realized I was so attached to the pup.

Troll was running his hands over her body as a tear slipped out of one of my eyes. 

“Is she okay?” I sniffed.

Troll didn’t answer at first, still continuing to rub her body with his hands.  “I had a dog once.”  It was an odd response.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out some jerky, holding it to the pup’s mouth.  She groaned for a bit and then twisted her body so she was lying in a more normal position.  She snatched the jerky from his hand and started chewing rigorously.

“If she eats, it’s a good sign,” Troll told me, his blue eyes penetrating mine.  There was something behind his eyes, something I couldn’t place.

I bit my lip, turning my attention back to the pup. “Oh, good.”  I stroked the pup’s matted fur, willing her to stay alive. 

Troll and I stood sentry over the pup, who gulped the jerky and turned her brown, begging eyes back to Troll, thumping her tail with more energy than I thought possible.  Troll let out a soft laugh, a sweet laugh, and pulled more jerky from his pocket.

“I think she’s just weak from not eating and from the blow to the wall.  She’ll probably be fine.”

At that moment, I could have kissed Troll’s blood covered body.

He turned back toward the dead mutant, speaking in a voice that had an edge to it.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to himself. “That’s their weak spot, you know.  The only way to kill them.”

I leaped up, furrowing my brows. “What are you talking about?”

“They have weak skulls.  Right in the center of their foreheads.”  He stepped closer to the mutant and tapped it several times on the skull with his knife.  A light hollow sound emanated from it.  

Forgetting about the pup for a minute, I couldn’t help asking him about the mutant. “Does it even have brains?” 

Troll hesitated, shrugging his shoulders.  “How the hell would I know?  Do I look like a fucking scientist to you?” 

I wanted to spout off at him, but he had just saved us with that impressive head butt, so I shut my mouth, relief flooding through my entire body at our narrow escape.

Then Troll knelt down and did the strangest thing.  I slipped next to him and knelt down on my knees, examining what he was doing.  In one rapid movement, he whisked a knife out of his belt and started sawing away at the mutant’s bloody, clawed fingers.

Chapter 29

Fingers

“What the hell are you doing?” I choked out at Troll, incredulous.  Spatters of the mutant’s purplish red blood leaped onto my jumpsuit, an ink blot of roaring colors.  I pulled myself up to a standing position, rocking back on my heels and stifling a gag at the horrible smell.

He didn’t stop sawing on the fingers, his knife grating sickeningly against bone-ish cartilage, yet his voice was firm.  “Getting you a little respect.”  Troll held up one of the disconnected fingers.  It was hairy, a filthy claw attached to its bloody, sinewy stump.  “Here, hold this while I get the others.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I sputtered.

Troll turned his head up toward me, his blue eyes ice.  “Just take the damn finger.”

I hesitantly reached for the finger.  It was still warm in my hand and blood oozed from the bottom of it, a reddish river that puddled onto the slick floor.  Troll continued sawing at the rest of the mutant’s appendages, handing each one to me when it was completely severed. 

I hadn’t stopped to count until he stood up, but I was holding twelve fingers in my hands.  They were lumped together, a pile of chicken bones in my hand, spilling out blood like a leaking faucet, one or two drops at a time.  I narrowed my eyes, examining the blood.  It was red, like human blood, but it also had that odd purple tinge to it.  A terrible smell wafted up, and in my pregnant state, I almost vomited, but I tamped it down again. For some reason, I didn’t want Troll to know about the baby. 

“There.  All done,” Troll announced proudly.  “Six for you and six for me.” He stood up slowly, wiping his hands on the golden robe that was still wrapped around his waist.

I was confused. I didn’t want six mutant fingers.  If anything, I wanted to toss them on the floor and take off running, get away from the disgusting scene that played out wickedly before me. “What are we even going to do with them?”

Troll heaved a great sigh, twisting his head to meet my horrified gaze. “Wear ‘em around our necks.” 

“Why?”

“For starters, to keep other mutants away.”

“Okay….”

“And second, it’s a badge of honor.  I can finally quit being the fucking keeper of the gate and get out of this damn tunnel.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right.  If you don’t have a necklace of mutant fingers, ‘aint no way you’re going to be an Exile.”  He sucked in some of the rancid tunnel air.  “I’ve been to the other side…to the Asters lots of times.  Bloody bastards chased me back in ‘cause I didn’t have no fingers.”  He drew in some more of the stagnant air, as if it might contain nutrients to feed his scrawny body.  “Every damn time.” 

“Gods, that’s terrible.  Are there that many of them…the mutants?”

Troll scrunched up his face.  “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.  I’ve been waiting for one to come into the tunnel for months.” 

I breathed out a huge sigh.  “How did they come to be?  How did they…”  I was still holding the fingers in my hands and I wanted rid of them in the worst way.  I just didn’t know what to do with them.

He interrupted me, laughing that terrible laugh of his.  “You think the Asters are what they told you about in class?  You think it was an asteroid that made the Asters?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Ha!” he exclaimed, spit flying off his lips.  “It was done by the fucking Administration.  They blew Province K to pieces with their bombs.  And the others, too.”

“How do you know?”
“I’ve been in this fucking tunnel for months, but I’ve been to the other side.” He took in a deep breath, nodding to the other end of the tunnel, an endless black hole. “The radiation or something from what they dropped over there caused those bastard mutants to form.”  With that he spread his eyes over to the dead, bloody mutant as if it were just an ordinary human taking a nap.

“They wouldn’t do that,” I argued.

He slowly turned his shaggy head toward me, his sharp blue eyes penetrating into mine. “So that’s why you’re leaving?  It’s so fucking great there?”  He knew I held a secret, and I wanted to keep it locked up tight inside of me.  I tossed it around, like a juggler with only one ball to throw.  There was really only one way to catch the ball. Like it or not, I seemed to be stuck with Troll.  Besides, after what we had been through, I decided to just tell him the truth.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out.  “And I won’t let them kill my baby.”

Troll waited a minute to respond.  Then he stamped his foot on the ground.  “Holy Jesus Fuck!” he yelled as loud as I had ever heard a person scream.

“A god damn baby.  You’re taking a god damn baby into the Asters.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked him, horrified.

He hung his head, then hesitated before speaking.  He lowered his voice. “How the hell should I know?  I haven’t been able to get out of this tunnel.” 

“No fingers?”

“No fingers.”  He breathed deeply.

“My…friends…they told me that I have to be accepted by a band if I’m going to survive there.” I nodded toward the other end of the tunnel, as if I actually knew where the Asters were.

Troll’s blue eyes were lit on fire.  “Your friends are right, whoever they are.”  He sighed deeply and then let out a maniacal laugh.  “You’re supposed to be the next keeper of the gate. That’s how it works.”  He ran his fingers through his blood spattered hair.  “I could just kill you, take all the fingers.”

Without even thinking, I reached for one of my knives, my eyes plastered on him.  The beat of my heart felt like it might cause my chest to explode.

“Jesus.  Stop it,” he sputtered.  “They can find a new keeper of the gate.”

I eyed him warily. “Why would you do that?”

He hesitated, then looked down to the floor, as if it held the answers to all of my questions. “You’re pregnant,” he whispered, his eyes still locked downward.

“So?” It came out as a challenge.

He lifted his head.  His voice was firm, sharpness snaking around his words. “So.  I couldn’t do that to a pregnant woman.”

We both sat down at once, and I tossed the fingers into a pile next to us. I sighed, spewing out the stagnant, blood filled air all around me.  “I’m not even a woman.  I’m only eighteen.”

“Well, you’ll be a woman soon enough.”   Troll held his head in his blood covered hands.  “I’ve got to think.  Get me some of that water.”

I carefully dug in my pack and pulled out a water bottle.  I held it over my blood covered hands until just a pinkish purple dripped onto the floor.  I rubbed my hands together, trying not to gag, then handed him the water bottle.  It was still over half full, and I watched intently as he first took a swig and then doused all of the bloody fingers with it, blood and water splashing over his clothes like a purplish red speckled rainstorm.  With the last drops, he rinsed his hands and then wiped his face with the golden Arbitrator robe, then dabbing at his numerous cuts with it.   He was right.  It did turn out to be useful. 

Troll spoke in a hushed tone. “I need to rest.  Then we’ll make a plan.”  With that, he leaned against the subway tunnel wall and just closed his eyes.

Just then, the pup crawled over toward us, slow, labored steps with her belly sliding against the floor.  I plopped down, and she rested her head in my lap.  I stroked her fur over and over until she shut her eyes and fell asleep.