Raven's Call: The Last Case

[Krayt]

My novel... As it is on all the other boards I use.

[Krayt]

“At first, I didn’t give a damn. I thought it was just a job, a new way to put food on the table. Then, even after the horror, even after the pain, I still thought it was nothing more than a job. Then, thanks to one very important person, I realized what the stakes were. I realized the real meaning of it all.”

   A light breeze came into the room, through the gaping hole in the ceiling. The detective’s long hair blew in the wind, and the sweat on his brow moved with it. He stared down the muzzle of his opponent’s gun, returning the unblinking stare with his own two barrels. He could feel the young girl still clinging to him, her arms tightly squeezing his chest. The man opposite them simply stared, unmoving.

   A drop of water hit the floor beneath the hole, making a soft ping. Then another. And another.

Prologue
July 27th, 1999, 06:10

Detective Lucan Vasya sat in the drivers seat of the new Mercedes. It had been a long night on the job, and only promised to get longer. Detective James Talon, Vasya’s partner, sat beside him loading his handgun. Even though it was out of regulations, Det. Vasya still preferred to use the old .38 Special revolver, out of date but guaranteed never to jam up, while Talon was used to the classic .45 Peacemaker.

  “We’re good,” Talon said, clicking the cylinder into place and handing it back to his partner. Vasya nodded and holstered the gun, letting it jab against his side. Other units of the DarkSmith Police Department gathered around the door of the warehouse. The SCAR unit (Special Combat Assault Recon) loaned to them from the US Army gathered on the roof of the building. Their job was to fast-rope through the sky-light. A SWAT team had lined up before the main door and slapped their small breaching charges on it, standing clear for the blast.

   Vasya stepped out of the car and took another look over the units in place. There were no sirens, the drug-runners inside didn’t know what was coming. And with the chief ill, Vasya was in complete control of the operation. He made a sweep of his arm and the SCAR unit prepared to dive in, and the SWAT leader griped the charge detonator. Vasya took one last look over the ten men under his command, trained his revolver on the door, and made a single click over the radio.

   Destruction on Demand. The SWAT team was through the door and the SCARs were coming in through the roof in unison. “Freeze! Hands in the air!” A SWAT soldier yelled. One of the drug-runners spun around firing his Uzi machine pistol. One of the SWAT troopers, the one who had yelled for them to freeze, was struck in the face. The automatics both teams carried cut into the men and woman in the center of the warehouse before they could react. There would be no prisoners amongst people as high on coke as them. A SWAT trooper went down, there were more in the rafters, on the cat walks, even coming through the back door. Setup!

   Detective Vasya fired his gun into the nearest of the traffickers – a fatal shot to the head. Another SWAT went down under fire from the AK-47s the enemy carried. Another two hostiles went down. The SCARs had been smart to bring their heavy P-90 SMGs and M-16 rifles. All the SWAT boys had were MP-5s and Shotguns. It was a massacre.

   In under fifty seconds, all five SWAT members were dead on the ground, and so were two SCARs. Vasya rolled under a burst of fire from an AK and got behind a large box with a member of SCAR, Sgt. Ramirez. The detective fired his last two rounds and started reloading: no time! Ramirez took a round to the chest, right through the crate. Vasya grabbed the dead sergeant’s M-16 and fired into the crowd above them. It had been a while since he had been using military hardware, and it felt good to do it again. In as many seconds as he had loaded bullets, Vasya killed the hostiles on the catwalks above them.

   He could just see Detective Talon and the other two SCAR Troopers behind some crates across the warehouse. There were only a few of the runners left now, keeping the fire up no matter how few of them there were. Another SCAR went down, and then the other. It was just the detectives, but backup was almost there. Things had gone to hell in a hand-basket. A pair of the drug-runners ran into the open, one carrying an old WWII flamethrower. Vasya dove under the fire, lighting his trenchcoat ablaze. He tossed the burning cloth and slammed another magazine into the rifle. Five shots, flamer was gone. Two more rounds and the other one was gone. Talon was nowhere to be seen; he’d gone through the back door. There were gunshots coming from that direction.

   Det. Vasya rolled out the door and saw James firing at a black van speeding away. The recoil of his heavy .45 Peacemaker sending him staggering back with each shot fired. James had been his Drill Sergeant during boot camp, and was a better shot than him. He hit the window three times and each of the front tires once. The final round went into the license plate. He was good. Lucan lifted his rifle to his shoulder and fired at the car as it turned. They couldn’t stop it.

   It was coming back! Coming in for a ram! But Detective Talon wouldn’t move, loading another round into his gun. He fired, hitting the driver between the eyes. And the van kept coming. Vasya dove back into the warehouse, only to be showered with blood – Talon hadn’t followed. Once the van had crashed into the wall, Vasya made his way back out. Detective Talon lay in the alley, “Lu – can …” the dying Detective struggled to breathe. Vasya fought back the anger and tears as the man slumped back against the wall of the warehouse. He grabbed the Peacemaker out of Talon’s hand, walked to the van, and pulled the driver’s door open. Five rapid gunshots into the dead driver ended the gunfight.

   Lucan Vasya hated handing out the little American Flag, and he’d be doing it eleven times over. It wasn’t long before the funeral. The widow’s tears were momentarily drowned by the twenty-one gunshots from the honor guard. He stood beside the sobbing form of Mary Talon, James’ wife of ten years. He turned back to the chief of police and dropped his badge at the obese man’s feet, a look of anger in the detective’s face. With a clenched fist, Lucan whispered “Goodbye, buddy.” and walked away.

[Krayt]

ACT ONE
Dark Path

Chapter One
December 10th, 1999, 14:47

   Lucan Vasya, slumped against the side of his bed, too tired to get in it. As Jason Morrow, his partner before James, had said once “When the Vasya Twins go on a binge, the world spins faster for a month.” That wasn’t far from the truth. Lucan and his twin sister Kira had just arrived back at the flat they shared after an all-nighter at the bars. She had quit the Force that night, or rather, had been fired. She was as depressed as he was when he quit a month prior.

   His ears started to ring, or was that the phone? He reached up and pulled it off the receiver and looked at it for a moment. He had just gotten his Private Detective license, and was already getting calls.

"Lucan Vasya, Private Detective." He said drearily into the mouthpiece, slouching back onto the bed. A loud and completely emotionless voice answered him before he could even finish his last breath,

“Mister Vasya, I don't have a lot of time, so I will be brief. I have a job for you, paying one thousand American dollars. Are you interested?" Lucan's eyes lit up a bit with the mention of that kind of money, especially after being out of work for so long.

"All right, keep talking." He responded. He had dealt with the "Dark and Mysterious" types before, and they were almost always full of it, but it never hurt to give it a go. Again, the man was quick in his response.

"There will be a knock at your door in ten minutes. Answer it." The phone went dead, the dial tone was gone.

   Lucan hung the phone up. How’d the guy know where he lived? Why was the bed dancing? Both very good questions for later. But now, he wanted to sleep. Sleep was good. He couldn’t resist it.

   Lucan woke up with a massive headache. He had slept on the floor, and Kira’s hand was on his face, hanging off the bed. He staggered to his feet and made his way into the scantily furnished kitchen. An expensive looking briefcase was sitting on the table. Probably from that guy on the phone. Kira must have answered the door. She could pass herself of as him, the only thing that’d give her away was the “D” cup on her chest, but that was usually hidden under her trenchcoat anyway.

   He flipped the locks open with some difficulty and looked through the pictures and written papers inside. Evidence and whatnot. Lucan really didn’t care for it, but grabbed one of the pictures, an aspirin, and his .45 Colt Peacemaker. Nearly twenty minutes of reading later, Lucan had gathered all he needed to know about the job. As it was, a lot of people had gone missing around an old estate near Ceeder Park. His job was to go to the estate and find out what happened to the missing people. Simple enough. The man who had giving him the job claimed to be the wife of a woman who disappeared three days ago within the park and near the Ceeder mansion there in; and his main objective was to find this young woman: Elizabeth Franklin, Caucasian female, Age: 27, Height: 5 feet 7 inches, Blonde hair and blue eyes. His employer didn't trust the police to find her, or do anything for that matter. He claimed that they had overlooked the mansion entirely, and wouldn't listen to his protests about it, leaving him no choice but to contact the only private detective in town. Lucan was to center his investigation around the mansion and its estate. Kira could stay at home and sleep, fine by him. He took his dark-green trenchcoat off the coat-rack and threw it on before going to the mirror and pulling a comb through his fizzled brown hair. In a moment he had the shoulder-length ebony hair pulled back gelled in place behind his suntanned white face. Satisfied he looked fairly presentable, he made sure his money was still in his pocket and walked out the door, locking it behind him.

   The apartments were fairly run down, and the hall was no exception. A pile of trash had gathered in the corner, right under a bullet hole from a Peacemaker misfire. He’s have to pay for that soon. He stooped down beside the stairwell and picked up a quarter that lie there. The elevators didn’t work there, and he finally was halfway glad they didn’t. He gave the quarter a few flips on his way down, each time landing it on tails. Weird luck.

   Lucan held his coat closed as he stepped into the frigged December wind that picked mercilessly at his flesh and dashed to the gas station across the street from his flat and hailed a taxi outside, pleased to find a familiar driver. Akeem Rhode, he thought the man’s name was. He was a kindly old man, an aging African with a thick Jamaican accent. After a quick exchange of greetings, Lucan gave him directions. Some piece of paper in the case had suggested Mrs. Franklin (that was the woman’s name) was in a mansion somewhere out in Ceeder Woods. Another bit of good fortune: Lucan had been to the small nature preserve a few time and knew the lay out fairly well. Good day.

   Things were already looking up. Note the sarcasm. Shadowy drunkards were shambling home to their wives, jobs, and televisions after the binge of the night. The home team won the football game yesterday, and everybody in town had gone drinking. Just for different reasons than the Vasya Twins. The little yellow cab swerved around one of the poor sods standing in the street, eating what looked like a hamburger. Lucan shook his head. All you need is beef to make a beer fest complete.

   Akeem told some joke or another Lucan had heard a thousand times, though he still laughed. Anything Akeem said seemed to be funny today. Maybe he’d been at the bars too? No, he was too old for that. He told the driver to turn ahead. After that it would be an hours drive to the woods. A nice nap didn’t seem out of the question.

   It was an hour later. Lucan hadn’t slept, but had pretended he was so Akeem would shut up. He didn’t want to talk. Lucan had forgotten to read anything about the case he was on, didn’t remember anything but a few scattered names and places. That bottle had done more damage than expected. Akeem turned the radio on, tuning it to the news. It played a story about disappearances in the woods, over a dozen people missing. A Special Forces unit had been dispatched to help in the investigations. It was assumed that a cult in the woods was responsible for the cannibal murders. How special? He’d be running around with a bunch of flesh-eaters. The car trundled up to the park's entrance, gloomy in the morning light, and made spookier by the distinct absence of people.

   There wasn’t anyone around, and the gates were hanging open in the breeze. Something was real wrong with that picture. Still, Lucan waved Akeem off and proceeded through the grid-iron gates. Subtly, he put his hand on the grip of his Colt revolver. He didn’t intend to die any time soon. However, any cultists he saw running around would feel the wrath of death. There was a reward out for their capture, dead or alive.

Chapter Two

   Lucan waved to the well-tipped driver as he sped away before turning to the task at hand. He walked through the grid-iron gate that led into the park, and past the ticket fee counter, surprisingly abandoned. There really wasn’t a soul around. The sky began to darken and blot out the sun with its gloom. The calm before the storm was slowly dragging to a close. The storm was coming. Coming faster than he expected. He wasn’t ten yards in the park when a lightning bolt slammed into one of the nearby trees. Lucan pushed himself away, slamming into the hard dirt as the behemoth tree fell like goliath. Another close call like that and he’d have to hire a therapist. His heart was ready to blow out of his chest. He took a step back and took in the sight of the tree that had nearly killed him. He sighed and clambered over the five-foot thick barrier before him.

   He dropped down from the tree, landing in a low crouch. The rain clouds began to cry out their soft melody, sending little droplets of water onto the lone detective. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. The ground was turning to mud under his expensive boots. Wouldn’t be the worst to happen to them that day.

   He had come to a clearing at the end of the small road that led into the park. The mountain lion preserve was just ahead, the young cubs the only living thing to be seen. From the side, movement. Lucan slowly turned his gaze to the brush that surrounded the clearing. Something was moving the bushes. Probably the wind; not worth investigating. He shivered again, and again in the frigid rain before he turned his gaze back to the pair of adorable little yellow and black lion cubs playing in their preserve. Even he had a soft spot for the little guys.

   Of a sudden, his tranquility was shattered by a roar like that of the cub’s mother on speed. Something was coming through the brush. I one fluid motion, Lucan had his Colt trained on the moving brush. He just hoped it wasn’t an angry mother lion... Or a cultist.

   Didn’t look like either. A man in hiking gear came out of the brush, stared at the detective, and charged. Lucan yelled out and instinctive warning. The man kept coming and roaring like a drunken sailor. Gunshot, straight into the air. A warning of new proportions. The man only came faster, now just a few yards away. Lucan pulled the hammer back, chambering the next round, and fired again. The bullet hit the man squarely in the chest. He fell to the ground.

  “What in the holy hell?” Lucan said, spitting on the soft ground. Lucan advanced a foot or two. The man jumped to his feet and resumed his charge. Lucan fired, hitting him in the kneecap and chambering another round. The man dropped to a knee, still roaring. Lucan took the initiative, running toward him and spinning around, leaving his round-housing foot firmly planted in the man’s face. The man, or whatever it was supposed to be, collapsed in a heap with blood seeping from its crushed skull. “What the hell was that guy smoking. Jesus!” Lucan yelled, loading a few more cartridges as he thought of an idea.

   He needed to dump the body somewhere for now... The lion preserve. A quick kick and the man went in, nice food for the cubs. Despite their size, they were vicious eaters. He smirked and holstered the revolver against his hip and began to walk again. The best place to investigate would be where the man had come from.

   Lucan pushed his way through the tick bushes and thickets, nearly tripping more than once. But through the thickening foliage, he eventually found safe harbor in another clearing. As before, he wasn’t five paces in when a roaring started up. In one hand, Lucan gripped his ears, in the other his Peacemaker. A pair of men came at him, both wearing little more than dirty rags. Lucan fired without warning. First round: headshot and instant fatality, spraying blood against the trees. Second and third shots: Both misses. The man was zigzagging. Lucan fired a forth round at point-blank, killing the man with another headshot. Reload. Lucan had eighteen rounds left, having used six. Surprisingly, these freaks weren’t putting up much of a fight, and a headshot seemed to kill them outright. Good to know.

   He found a knife on one of the bodies, sticking out of the man’s back. A small survival knife and cloth sheath, possibly from the hiker Lucan had killed earlier. He took it, attaching it to the back of his belt. Another roar, more than three different voices adding to the piercing scream. The locals were out for blood. A man and woman came at him first, from the way he came. Three shots and they were history. Lucan spun to see another two men closing, just feet away. There was just enough space, and Lucan dove between them. In their attempt to look, they banged their heads together and gave Lucan the chance to come to a crouch and fire a shot at point-blank into each of their heads. A pair of hands grabbed him from behind, and another roar let out, nearly deafening him. He couldn’t turn around, and the person was rearing back like he was going to take a bite out of him.

   Lucan thrust his head back, smashing the man’s nose in. With the grip around him released, Lucan spun and grabbed the knife, driving it through the man’s throat and twisting. It ripped his spine, killing him. Lucan sneered as blood dripped from his knife. “Bunch of crazed inbred idiots. Too easy” He said, flicking blood off the knife and onto the corpses.

   Ahead was a large mansion, dark and gloomy against the comparably brighter storm clouds. That must have been the Ceeder Estate. Possibly the command center for these freaks; it had been abandoned long enough. Lucan couldn’t think much on it. Another crazy was coming full charge from the front lawn of the mansion. Lucan fired his last chambered round, hitting the woman in the gut. She kept coming. Lucan couldn’t load a single round in time to stop her. She was less than a yard away. Lucan jumped into the air with a spin, a flying roundhouse. The crazed woman grabbed his foot, he had made a rookie mistake. She flung him against a tree, smashing his head against the hard bark, and she came in for the killing strike at just two yards away.

Chapter Three

   Lucan had never believed in miracles, but he had to admit to one when the small yellow taxi rammed the woman, sending her flying like a doll. Akeem rolled out of the smoking car, gripping a Winchester shotgun, the old trench model modified with a reflex sight. The woman was stuck on a branch a moment later, steel swinging her arms around, even though her entire stomach was stuck by a sharp branch. There was no time for words, more of the crazies were coming from every direction except the house. It was the obvious choice. Both Lucan and Akeem made a mad dash to the house, slamming the ivory doors behind them. A moment later, their ears were filled with a series of wet thuds as the crazed beings threw themselves against the door. They didn’t try to open the door, but just slammed against it like maddened beasts.

   Lucan made the mistake of looking out one of the windows, horrified at what he saw. Not by the sheer number of people in the crowd, but what they looked like. Any member of the crowd was in an advanced state of decay, some were missing limbs and other had fatal wounds on their bodies. And yet all of them continued to walk. Walk like the shambling monsters from a horror movie. No kind of painful and even lethal injury would stop them but a headshot.

   He regained his senses and pushed a bookcase in front of the damaged door before seeing if his companion was alright. "Akeem, look at me. We need to focus, are you with me?"

"Yes..yes sa'. I can na' believe the people out 'ere, sa'. They so messed up, I can na' imagine it. So messed up..."

   The man was in shock. Though Lucan knew he had served in Vietnam and had witnessed the atrocities of the war, these monstrous excuses for humans had him paralyzed with fear. Nothing he could do for him but push on. The room they had entered was a large anteroom, with a slim staircase leading to a second floor with two doors, and the downstairs had two doors as well, matching the above. Lucan knew the doors would be locked, but tried them anyway. All but one of the upper-level doors was bolted from inside. He would have tried his lucky door, if a small painting didn’t catch his attention. It was of a tall farmer with his pitchfork.

   Lucan took in the man’s image, about 6’3 with a tall-ish forehead and a very light tan. In the man’s off hand was a classic Colt .45 Peacemaker. Except for the clothes, the man looked just like Lucan. He took the painting off its hook for a closer look. It was signed by Gabriel Hope. On the back of the painting was a small golden key. The detective stared at it for a moment before moving through the unlocked door.

   It led him to another hall way, long and thin. There were three doors, one painted with the farmer’s image, one with a slightly different image of a woman who looked just like the man in a dress, and a final picture of an unknown man in a black business suit holding a rapier in a defensive position. Lucan put the key into the picture of a farmer and turned it in the keyhole. A click told him it was open, and he advanced in, dropping the key to the ground. A glint of light reflected off the word engraved on the key “Lucan”.

   Lucan instantly backed out of the room. “It’s unreal.” It was an exact duplicate of the bedroom he had when he was a little boy, barely out of diapers. The wall was painted with a mural of a farm, and the ceiling was covered in clouds. His foster parents had been rich and extravagant. He picked one of the stuffed toys up and examined it, the exact match to his stuffed dog. Lucan scowled and dropped the small toy into a pocket before exiting the room.

  “Akeem!” Lucan yelled, taking the steps two at a time. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Something’s wrong with this house! Big time.”

  “Da’ ya’ thin’ so?” Akeem said sarcastically.

  “Hell yeah.” Lucan replied, jumping down the last few stairs. “Someone’s playing games with me. I think I’ve been here before, too.”

  “Well, if ya’ve been ‘ere befo’, maybe ya’ kan fin’ a way out?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. But, I need you to come with me. One little thing I’d like to see.” Lucan finished to a nod from Akeem. The pair moved back up the stairs and to the hall. Lucan was too lazy to find the key to the dress door, and he knew from experience that a good shotgun round is usually enough to breach a door. And Akeem was carrying a shotgun.

   The entire area around the doorknob flew into the room as a shell casing hit the floor. Lucan moved in double-time with his gun drawn. The room was an exact match to Kira’s, with a beach scene on the wall. Across from him was a walk-in closet with a thin door, and something human-shaped was behind it. From the looks of things, it was a young woman with her hands and feet bound. Slowly, the detective slid the door open. The woman fell out of the closet, a plastic mannequin! And in the closet behind her was another of the crazies. The man jumped at them, tackling a surprised Lucan to the ground and rearing back for a big bite.

   A moment before the blood lusting man could take his fill of the detective, Akeem brought the wooden stock of his shotgun down on the man’s head, throwing him off. He followed it up with a trio of rifle-butts and a final shotgun round to the head, shattering the man’s frail skull in a rain of blood and grey-matter.

  “Knocked over a few Seven-Elevens, huh?” Lucan said as he dragged himself to his feet against the support of the small bed. Akeem just grinned and pumped another round into his firearm. Both were interrupted by the sounds of footsteps outside on the soft carpet. Someone was coming.

[Krayt]

Chapter Four

   Lucan and Akeem trained their respective weapons on the small door as the unknown person advanced at a slow and deliberate walk. Steadily, a shadow came into view, a taste of things to come. The shadow was like a giant man without a head, carrying a long object in his hands.

   It rounded the turn into the small room, a tall headless man with bulging muscles in little more than a pair of shorts. He brandished a long halberd and a soft hiss came from his neck. Both Lucan and his follower fired in unison, blowing a pair of bloody holes into the man. He staggered back before racing forward and swinging the pole axe. Lucan crouched under the broad swing, knocking Akeem down just moments before the blade reached him. Lucan chambered another round and fired, repeating that thrice more. Each round hit the headless man in a vital organ, but to no effect. Instead, the beast reared around and came again, swinging the axe at stomach level. Akeem stayed down, but Lucan went a different path. As the axe came, Lucan jumped into the air and grabbed the light, getting above the swipe before kicking the man in the chest. It toppled over, letting the axe fly into the air. A moment later and the blade came crashing down onto him, the silver tip stabbing the man in the chest and killing him.

   Lucan dropped back to the ground and helped the old man to his feet. Both of them were visibly disturbed by the new breed of foe. Akeem was sweating bullets and panting while Lucan bit his lip and stared blankly at the corpse. No kind of drug was responsible for that. Something real wrong was going on, and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what it was.

   Instead of thinking further on it, Lucan spun around and quickly moved through the door and toward the last door in the hall. It was hanging open with an axe cut straight through it. Akeem wasn’t following, and he couldn’t blame the poor old man. Instead, he leaned into the room, dark and shadowy. He took a step in, reaching for his lighter. A few seconds after he passed the threshold of the door, the little light from the door cut out with a bang. He flicked the lighter on and held the fame high. A second later and an electric light kicked in, nearly blinding him. When he moved his arm from his eyes, he saw nothing but pictures. Pictures of him. Pictures of him from every stage in life, from child hood to just days ago. The ultimate proof every paranoiac can only dream of. He knees rocked and his stomach churned; the feeling he had learned to suppress in the face of horror. He had gone soft since the army, and it showed as he fell to his knees and dropped his revolver to the ground, whispering “God. What is this?”

   His knees fell in something wet, a pool of warm liquid. Bloody footprints leading from one of the photographs to the door and the prints matched the man’s apparent size without doubt. After another moment, Lucan forced himself to his feet and looked at the picture closely. It showed the Vasya Twins four years ago at Police Academy graduation; the same version of the picture he still kept in his near empty wallet.

   With a cautious and deliberate motion, Lucan lifted the frame from the wall hook and looked behind it. There was a crawlspace behind it, leading to a dimly lit room of some sort. He held one of his cigarettes to the lighter he still carried before advancing it, using the lighter for illumination. Crawling forward, he found the rear of the space to be roughly eight feet above ground, a soft and muddy cavern. Little reason not to advance further. He pushed harder, throwing himself out the space and landing on his face. Botched that real good.

   The detective scrambled to his feet and leaned against the wall, brushing mud off his clothes and face. In the darkness, he heard a low growl and a soft series of hisses. He reached to the side and found a light switch and flipped it. A soft red cascade fell over the room, and the dozen people that stared the detective down. He only had one bullet chambered. Tough luck.

Chapter Five

   Detective Vasya stared into the group of people in the room. Two dozen eyes stared back at him, each glowing red with anger. More of the crazed murderers, more than he had fought before. He aimed the revolver at the closest one and pulled the trigger. The man collapsed in a pool of his own blood mixed with mud. At once, the other eleven ran at him, screaming and roaring with rage. He threw the Peacemaker into the air and drew his knife as the killers came. First two came right at him, rearing their hands and heads back for attack. The first of the two received a knife swipe to the face and a roundhouse kick to the gut, sending him flying into the other killer, pinning her to the ground.

   Now three came from his left. He ran at them, grabbing the leader’s shoulders and propelling himself over the killer, driving his knife into his skull before coming to a crouching landing. Another roundhouse sent a fourth man flying into the wall. The two other came back at him, charging and screaming bloody murder. Lucan grabbed one of them by the wet and scarred arms and kicked him, ripping his arms off and using them as clubs against the other. That killer was knocked to the floor. Another killer came from behind, and Lucan rolled out of the way and grabbed his knife from a fallen killer’s skull before turning to face another. He slashed the woman’s throat and kicked her away before the other came back.

   Lucan dropped to a crouch and back-kicked the man, sending him against the wall. The final three came at him at once, snarling more than the others. Lucan slashed the middle of the three and sweep-kicked him to the ground, using the motion to dodge under the other two. And they came to bear on him again, rushing with arms outstretched. He dove between them, monkey-kicking the left-most woman and falling back to earth a moment before her. And there was one man left, running at him. Lucan prepared to counterattack, but almost by force of will, the Peacemaker dislodged itself from the dirt roof and came crashing down on the man, crushing his skull. Lucan nodded cockily and grabbed the gun.

   The bodies on the floor were stirring, he hadn’t killed them but stunned most. He sighted an iron door and made for it, loading .45 rounds as fast as he could. The monsters would be back at him soon. A quick kick brought the door in on itself and he was shown a long earthen passage leading further into Ceeder Mountain.

   Akeem had heard the gunshot a full minute ago. It was the detective’s gun, by the sound of it. And that undoubtedly meant that he was in trouble. However, the door he had gone through was locked up tight. Akeem had tried to kick the door in, but hadn’t been strong enough. Though he hated to waste another round, he hesitantly aimed at the door knob and fired, sending the wooden door flying back into the room. He stepped in and felt for a light switch on the dark wall, but found nothing but a picture frame. Cautiously, he took a step inside. Then another, and the light from the door cut off. He spun to see a large sheet of metal slide from the door frame, blocking his path out as a small red light came into play, showing him the dozens of pictures on the wall. He took a step back in shock; what was the detective, the idol of some cult? There was no good answer for the madness, and little sense to be made of it. It was a house from hell.

   And Lucan advanced, revolver in one hand and lighter in the other. Shadows danced in the faltering light that came from the gold-plated lighter, a gift from his “father” that he hadn’t refueled in ages. Something was moving ahead, something other than a shadow. Silently, he cocked the hammer of his revolver and went to a kneel as the shape came closer, still obscured in the dark. The figure stopped at the shadow’s edge and matched his crouch, sniffing the air. It was looking right at him, wasn’t it? It advanced, another of the headless men, smelling through the eyeless head he carried in his off hand. Slowly, Lucan put the cigarette out under his boot and closed the lid of the lighter. The monster continued to advance, slowly placing one foot ahead of the other. It was nearly a minute before the beast was past him and Lucan felt it was safe to advance. He didn’t want to tangle with that thing, and it didn’t seem too interested in him.

   Lucan smirked and continued toward the end of the passage, treading as lightly as he could. He flicked the lighter on again and continued on, slowly nearing the metal door that marked the end of the passage. Slowly, he pushed it open and led with his revolver. Inside was a small earthen room lined with cabinets straight from a morgue, and a number of autopsy tables with fresh corpses upon them. Most had still-running IV cables in them, pumping the bodies full of a green-brown liquid; an embalming fluid, maybe? In the far corner was a small personal computer humming along. Now that was strange: what was powering it?

   He hit a few keys and the screensaver faded to a desktop with a picture of the man from the third door, smiling under his thick glasses. Handsome guy. Right on his hand was the only desktop icon, reading: Revival-Lock-Release. Curiosity sparked, and Lucan double-clicked it. An instant later and there was a deafening scream from the way he had come, along with a pair of shotgun blasts. “Oopsie.”

Chapter Six

   Lucan pushed his body to its limits as he ran back toward the gunshots. Another string of gunshots rang out with a series of faint roars. Akeem was probably out of ammunition by then, but he had to keep trying. He forced himself to go a little faster, past the hobbling headless man and back into the cavern with the dozen crazies. Akeem had his back to the wall next to the door and was desperately loading shells into the shotgun as some the people Lucan had killed stumbled toward him.

   Lucan grabbed Akeem’s shoulder and pulled him toward the door. The man tried to say something, but Lucan cut him off. “Shut up and run, damn it!” He yelled, forcing Akeem forward as he turned to fire at the monsters that advanced through the metal frame. Three rounds and he was running, the monsters in hot pursuit. Lucan chambered the next round and fired over his shoulder, striking one of the monsters in the shoulder.

   And he realized he had forgotten about the headless monster. He remembered old headless when it came into view, just a few feet away, with its axe raised in a striking position and coming down fast. Lucan slid, shot the man in the knee, and pulled himself back into a stand and continued to run for his life as the monster gave chase. Things just couldn’t get any worse.

   The monster reared back, hefting its axe behind its body as Lucan neared the door, still looking over his shoulder. Even without sight, the monstrosity was still about to throw the blade at him. A final push of stamina, that was all he needed to survive. A final dive toward the door brought him into the medical room and Akeem closed the door. A second later and the axe ripped through the door, the sharp blade sticking an inch through. Akeem pushed an autopsy table in front of the door while Lucan loaded more of his .45 rounds into his gun.

   And an eerie silence fell over thee pair. The monsters were as silent as they were. They were waiting for any chance. Any slip of their guard would bring the monsters tearing in, no doubt.

  “Akeem, find us a door. It’s only a matter of time before our friends come crashing in.” Lucan ordered, keeping his gun trained on the door as shadows passed through the hole in it. Silently, Akeem nodded and began to search along the earthen wall for any signs of an opening.

  Lucan shook as a tremor hit the hill, sending bodies and tools crashing to the floor. Something had given the mansion a good shake, possibly and explosion, though he couldn’t be sure. Another of the tremors hit the building, dislodging dust and dirt from the ceiling and raining it upon the pair. Lucan blew a few specks off his face, never taking his eyes off the door. Finally, another tremor came crashing in, knocking Lucan and Akeem to the floor. It was getting closer, louder, more intense. Something was coming.

   Akeem was desperately searching for the door as Lucan made the same effort to keep the other door shut, pushing against it as the monsters tried to break in. He yelled for Akeem to hurry as another volley of punches and kicks landed on the door.

   And Akeem yelled that he had found the door. And not a moment too soon. The iron door Lucan guarded came crashing in and the monsters began to advance. He squeezed off a pair of shots into their ranks as the pair retreated toward the door. Lucan opened it and Akeem went in. Another tremor hit them, sending Lucan to his knees. One of the crazies ran at him, getting a bullet to the kneecap. With the advanced monster on his knees, Lucan ran forward and roundhoused him into the rest of his mutated friends, toppling most of the crowd. He began to walk backward, firing another round and hitting one of the monsters when a final tremor came, and a section of the war fell in.

   A huge red beast, easily fifteen feet high, came rushing in through the breach, roaring and spitting everywhere. Lucan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stood in awe of the beast. A large drop of the monster’s saliva landing on him was enough to jolt the detective from his stupor, and more than enough to get him running through the narrow cavern that stretched ahead. Hopefully, it would be too small for the monster to fit through. Though, hope didn’t seem to be on their side, all things considered.

   Lucan reloaded as he ran down the dark corridor, using Akeem’s distant footsteps as a guide. He loaded his final round into the gun, six loaded and none left over. Akeem’s footsteps came to a halt a few dozen feet ahead of Lucan as a dim light began to come into focus, coming from the crack under another iron door. Lucan didn’t stop, instead ramming the door with his shoulder, forcing it to open into a small room with nothing but a chair in it. The chair, a woman tied, bound, and gagged in it, and a pair of the headless men.

   A shotgun blast sent one of them reeling as the other charged, bringing its axe down on the detective. Lucan rolled and the axe chopped off one of the trenchcoat’s tails. He came to a kneel and fired at the monster, hitting it in the crotch twice and the chest once. It fell to its knees, and a shotgun round forced it back further: far back enough to break its legs with its own mass. They turned toward the other as it came to and charged. A .45 round to the stomach put an end to its dash. It fell back to the ground in a pool of its own blood.

    Without pause, Lucan ran to the woman and pulled the tape off her mouth. “Elizabeth Franklin?”

[Krayt]

Chapter Seven

  “Oh my God! Who are you? What are you,” She started, desperately glancing left and right. Before she could say another word, Lucan placed the tape back on her mouth and waited for her to stop screaming. When she did, she began to violently shake her head, sending her golden hair flinging about like mad.

   Lucan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Her mad reaction wasn’t really necessary. He just saved her, and she acts like that? If people can’t accept a little kindness gracefully, it’s all over for humanity. After a minute of her thrashing about and screaming through the duct tape, he firmly panted his hand on the top of her head to stop her and forced her to look up at him.

  “Now then.” He began, taking a corner of the tape between his thumb and forefinger. “I am going to remove the duct tape. If you start screaming, I’ll put it back on and leave you here. Are we clear?” He finished. She nodded, and Lucan slowly removed the stretch of tape from her mouth. “Now then. Are you, or are you not, Elizabeth Franklin?”

  “Yes.” She replied, her fear showing itself in a wave of shivers.

  “Do you want to live?” Lucan pressed.

  “Yes.” She said, fearful tears streaming down her cheeks. Lucan scoffed and pulled his knife from its sheath. She shivered and pulled back as far as she could. She really was a dumb blonde. He moved around to the back of the chair and cut the tape that bound her hands, and then what bound her feet to the chair.  The second she was free, she ran from the pair and put her back against the corner. Lucan rolled his eyes again.

  “My name’s Lucan Vasya. I’m a detective, and I’m here to save you.” He stated, trying to calm her.

  “What?” She said, taking a step forward, “Why didn’t you say so?”

   Lucan would have responded, if not for the blood curdling roar from back down the hall. Something, or some things, were coming their way. The detective motioned for the other two to go toward the other door as he stared down whatever was coming. Against the darkness, he slowly made out the shapes of the crazed killers, rushing down the corridor. He fired off a shot, hitting the leader in the chest and knocking the group down before running through the door after his compatriots.

   He chambered his last round as another wooden door came into view through the dim illumination of a lighter Elizabeth had pulled. Akeem let Lucan pass him and fired a shotgun round into the group of pursuing killers. He approached it, and was about to take hold of the handle when another hand grabbed his trenchcoat. "Damn!" He screamed as he heard the cold-blooded, hungry moan of the killers. Lucan pulled his arms out of their sleeves and stared at the dirty man that was sticking out of the earthen wall, and from the sounds of it, others were following suit. "Runaway!" Lucan screamed, back-kicking the door open and letting the others pass. He fired his last round into the man’s head and grabbed his coat before he slammed the door shut behind them. A moment later and the crazies were throwing themselves against the door.

   Akeem and Elizabeth were physically there, but their eyes told a different story as they looked up at the ceiling. Reluctantly, Lucan matched their gaze. They were in a slaughter house... A slaughter house for human beings. A few dozen bodies hung from the ceiling by meat hooks stabbed through their chests. Many of them wore the full body armor of the Special Combat Assault Recon unit. They were all dead. Lucan’s jaw dropped a little, and he forced himself to look away. There was nothing to be done for the dangling cadavers.

   Elizabeth took another few seconds to look at the bodies and screamed, and Akeem dropped his cigar from his mouth. "God. Sucks to be them." Lucan mumbled, biting his lip and locking the wooden door. "We gotta keep moving, police yourselves, and let's find an exit." Akeem acknowledged him, and Elizabeth slouched against the door, in shock from the blood bath before her.

   Lucan knelt down next to Elizabeth and put his hand on her trembling shoulder. "We gotta keep moving, kid. I know it's awful, but there's no sense in gettin' bogged down. Pull it together. We have to move."

"It... This is all a bad dream." Elizabeth moaned, hugging her legs up to her chest.

"I'm sorry to put you through this, kid, but this is no dream."

"I... It can't... I don't believe anyone could do this... It's horrible. What kind of monster is responsible for this?"

"Found another door, sa'!" Akeem called, pointing to an iron door that looked like that of a refrigerator. Lucan squeezed Elizabeth's shoulder and pulled her up to her feet. "Kid, we have an exit. Let's go." Before she could respond, a pair of hands broke through the rotten wood of the door, grabbing her and pulling her against the door. "Not again!" Lucan yelled, stabbing his knife into each of the hands until it released its grip. Elizabeth broke free and ran behind Lucan as he made a few more stabs into the other pairs of emerging hands. "This ain't workin'!" He yelled, grabbing Elizabeth's trembling hand and pulling her along as he ran into Akeem's passage, followed shortly by the scared-shitless cab driver. The door closed behind them, leaving them in another pitch black room.

Chapter Eight

   Lucan’s flip-top golden lighter came to life in the darkness, showing yet another earthen passage. But something was different this time. There was a cold liquid up the their shins, rippling with every step they took. Looking down, Lucan saw the dark crimson they trod in, recognizing it as blood. So much of it though, what could have produced so much as to fill the tunnel? It was unsettling, to say the least. He didn’t tell the others, as he rathered they didn’t see.

   The monsters at the door had grown silent, neither scratching at the door nor pounding to get through. A welcome respite in the minds of the desperate trio. They had no more ammunition for any of their weapons; nothing but Lucan’s knife to protect them in the beast came again. A light gust of air brushed over them, a grating in the ceiling showing them the park’s underground. They were in the sewers.

   His train of thought was silenced when something moved in the blood. He froze and raised his hand to tell the others to do the same. Again there was movement, now just a few yards ahead. Lucan traded the warmth of Elizabeth’s hand for the cool killing power of his long-bladed survival knife.

  “What... What’s wrong?” The girl asked, taking a step back.

  “We’re in trouble.” Lucan replied, glancing around for any sign of movement.

   Something brushed past him, its cold, slick body sliding against his worn jeans. He shivered and stared down. There was nothing but ripples around his legs. A moment later, and the blood under him parted as a pair of bright-yellow eyes looked up at him. The pair of eyes met his gaze and they stared at each other for a solid thirty seconds. The eyes closed and disappeared into the blood again. “Run!” He yelled, dashing forward toward the end of the tunnel.

   Of a sudden, just feet ahead of them, a hole opened in the liquid and a terrible white specter of an eel burst forth from its bloody abode. Its beady yellow eyes stared the detective down as it hovered a good six feet in the air, just a few inches below Lucan. It opened its mouth, letting a blood-red tongue slide out. Rather than any sort of roar or screech, perfectly spoke English came from the beast’s mouth.

  “I’m going to take apart your soul, mortal!” It said, exposing a pair of long fangs.

  “Well, good for you.” Lucan said, sliding his left foot back a few inches. “Run away!” He yelled, grabbing Elizabeth and bolting past the monster with Akeem close at their heels. He turned his neck a bit as he ran, in time to see the monster gaining on them. He pushed Elizabeth ahead and braced himself for the inevitable attack by the eel. And when it came, the monster showed just how deadly it was. Though Lucan managed to duck under its charge, it clipped his shoulder with the sharp tip of its tail and sent a wave of pain through the detective’s shoulder. Lucan gripped his knife and slashed at the monster, cleanly slicing through it. The eel acted as if nothing happened; because nothing had happened. The knife had gone through it’s body without injuring the eel in any way. It was totally incorporeal.

   The eel turned to him and made its best impression of a smug smile before batting the knife from Lucan’s hand and making another go at him. Vasya dodged it by making a quick dive toward the knife and letting the eel-creature pass over him. He dropped his lighter, allowing the darkness to consume them once again.

   Lucan desperately tried to control his breathing, anything that could give his location away. He held perfectly still, waiting and listening. He heard the light hissing of the creature as it passed back and forth, tracking him down. Lucan felt through the horrid blood for his knife. The thick liquid made it hard to move his arm, but he tried anyway. He had to find it again. It was his only defensive option.

   He found something, hard and cold. He picked it up and held it close to his eyes. It was his golden lighter, still warm from its recent burning. He held it tight to his chest and continued searching with his left hand. He knew the blade had to be close. But no, it wasn’t anywhere within arms reach and Lucan dreaded to make a single movement more lest the monster hear him.

   No matter. A bolt of lightning sprang out of the monster’s tail and landed against the wall just inches from Lucan’s head. In the fleeting light, he saw his knife stuck to the wall just beside him. He grabbed it and ran, flicking the lighter on as he ran from the monster. But it still came, rushing at him from behind. Desperate, Lucan swung his lighter at the monster. It screamed and broke off as Lucan reached the door at the end of the hall. He bashed it in with his shoulder and ran inside.

   A moment later and Akeem was pushing a chest in front of the door while Elizabeth grabbed something from a table in the back. She tossed Lucan a small box no larger than a video game case. It was labeled “.45 Incendiary Rounds”.

  “Use those! Quick!” She yelled as the head of the monster began to move through the door. Lucan pulled the revolver from its holster and loaded a trio of round in before the monster was all the way in. With a smirk, he chambered a round and fired, striking the beast between the eyes and lighting at ablaze. It was woefully vulnerable to fire. Another round to the central mass and it crashed to the floor, better than dead. Its corpse burned away, leaving little but ash.

   From behind, there was a clapping. Then a vaguely familiar voice said from the shadows “Very well done, Mister Vasya.”

Chapter Nine

   Detective Vasya and his weary company each turned to face the speaker. A handsome man in his mid-twenties with short brown hair and pale white skin. At the end of his clapping, he reached u to his face and pushed a pair of thick glasses up his short nose. He then made a cruel smirk and lowered his head a bit, still keeping his eyes trained on the trio.

  “Who’re you?” Lucan demanded, taking a step forward.

  “Why, dear Mister Vasya,” The man began, taking a step forward, “You don’t remember me do you? Though I really can’t expect you to, all things considered.”

  “Who in the holy Hell are you?” Lucan repeated, this time more forceful. He had no patience for cryptic messages.

  “I’m not the one you should be worried about.” The man replied, turning toward the small door at the end of the room, “Oh, and you’re welcome for the ammunition.” He added, walking through the door. It closed behind the business-suited man.

   Lucan stared at the door for a few moments before finishing the reloading of his Peacemaker. There was only one way they could go: After the man’s cryptic lead. He ordered the others to follow like obedient sheep and pushed through the door, nearly bumping his head against an iron ladder behind it. There was just enough room to climb it without hitting the door-side wall. Who ever designed the place must have been smoking some kind of green herb or another.

   Detective Vasya made his way up the coarse, rusty ladder and peeked his head into a large warehouse. It was open with crates and boxes lining the walls. Someone had taken pains to keep the center of the room clear. Slowly, he waved his followers back down the ladder and finished the climb alone. He sensed danger, and his senses hadn’t proven wrong yet.

   Elizabeth Franklin let herself down the rest of the ladder, upset with the effort she had put out climbing it for nothing. The shredded tails of the detective’s creepy trenchcoat disappeared from view as he moved away from the ladder. She still couldn’t believe the mess she had gotten into. All her life’s work just to end up as food for a bunch of psycho rednecks. She was surprised that the old man, still in the uniform of the DarkSmith City Cab Company, was taking it so well. He sat against the ladder and stared at the shotgun that rested in his lap. Was she the only one who got shaken up when people tried to kill her?

  “What’s your name?” She asked, if only to pass the time.

  “Akeem. Sergeant Akeem Rhode.” He replied, setting the empty weapon aside.

  “Sergeant? You some kind of military man?” She said.

  “Sort of. That’s a funny story, really.” He said with a bit of a smirk. He had dropped his African accent, and now spoke as if he had been born and raised in Virginia.


   Lucan stood in the center of the storeroom and nervously glanced left and right. There were no doors or stairs in the room, and no ways for the man to get out. So where had he gone? He took another few steps away from the ladder and drew his Peacemaker from its holster. He scanned the upper terrace of the building, looking for any sign that the man had made it to the second floor. And sure enough, there was a flash of movement in the corner of Lucan’s eye. He spun left and leveled the gun at the shadow that ran across the upper level, its owner obscured behind the wooden banister that ran around the room.

   Slowly, he closed his left eye and held the gun’s sights level with his right eye. He held the barrel of the gun a few inches ahead of its target as it ran. He pulled the trigger, and the crack of a gunshot filled the room. A moment later and the shadow stopped and fell backwards.

   Lucan made a cocky smile and rested the barrel of the revolver on his shoulder. He thought he looked like a regular action hero, and was half inclined to find a mirror. But, more pressing things were at hand. He turned back toward the ladder in the back of the warehouse.

   Silently, stealthily, the shadow and its owner rose to their feet and again began to run for the end of the room. They wanted to get their before the detective. And they did, melding in with the shadows and the darkness above the ladder as an overconfident detective made his way towards them.

   There was a sharp knocking behind Lucan, at the other end of the room, like a brick on sheet metal. He turned to face it, but saw nothing. His brow furrowed as he made a few quick glances around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He turned back toward the ladder and was nearly blinded by a red laser shining into his left eye from the shadows above the ladder. “Bugger.” He whispered, dropping the cigarette from his mouth. A glint of light from the lamps above caught on the barrel of the military-grade rifle that protruded from the shadows.

   A grey puff of smoke emanated from the detectives lips as he clenched his hand on the grip of the revolver that hung at his side. He could quick draw, but he didn’t have high hopes of success. Or, he could dive to the side and fire, and hope the snipe only hit his leg. Either way and he was nearly guaranteed a bullet.

   The unexpected has a way of happening when you least expect it. The hatch on the ladder opened and Elizabeth’s head popped out. “Lucan! I’ve gotta tell you!” She started. The sniper looked down and the laser sight strayed off of the detective. In a single fluid motion he had his Peacemaker out of its holster and fired all six rounds at the sniper. The sniper got off a round too.

[Krayt]

Chapter Ten

   Lucan felt a flash of pain and stumbled backwards as the long-barrel rifle clattered to the floor. He gripped his left leg; his hand came back with the palm completely red. He fell to a kneel and gripped his leg with left hand and tried to empty the chambers of his revolver with his right. He couldn’t, his hands were too shaky.

   You can never get used to being shot. The way everyone runs over and acts so serious. It was only a flesh wound, and he didn’t have a confirmed kill on the shooter. Elizabeth should have been more careful, but instead raced toward him like she honesty cared about him, a total stranger. She tried to say something, but he stopped her. She tried to look at the wound, but he pushed her away. He knew it was just a flesh wound, it had barely broken the skin. It had been a luck hit from a random shot. With all his might, Lucan struggled to his shaky feet. It took a true force of will to keep his leg from collapsing under his weight. He tightened the muscles around his wounded leg, instantly dulling the pain enough to let him hobble forward and grab the rifle from the floor and fire a round into where the corpse should have been. With a loud crack, a small hole opened in the second floor and ended with a soft squish. A small crimson stream fell through the hole and onto the concrete floor.

  “Where’s Akeem, and where’s the door?” Lucan said, hefting the heavy rifle onto his shoulder and looking back at the ladder.

  “I don’t  know. He went back to... Get something. I think.” Elizabeth replied, nervously rubbing her hand on the back of her neck. Lucan nodded, decided she was lying, and limped to the other end of the warehouse to try and get a better look at the corpse. He couldn’t see it at all. Nothing was left of it but a puddle of blood. There was a gust of air behind him, and the detective spun with his knife clenched in his left hand. In the shadows cast by the dim lights there was nothing. He turned back around and saw two figures moving away.

   Elizabeth was being forced back, held by a man with a knife to her throat and a black beret topping his masked head. Lucan leveled the rifle at the man from the hip, unable to take the time to aim, using the laser to guide him. The attacker held the knife closer the her throat as the laser traced up his exposed side.

  “I bet you thought you killed me, huh? The man said. Lucan took a guess that he was talking to the shooter.

  “One can hope, but nothing’s ever certain.” replied Lucan.

  “All too true.” The man said, reaching for his mask. Lucan took his moment of distraction to fire a round from the gun, striking the man in the side. The force of the round physically forced the man back, allowing Elizabeth to run out of Lucan’s line of fire. With a well-worn façade of bravado, Lucan emptied the magazine of the rifle into the man’s chest.

   The man’s arm shot out and grabbed the gun as it flew at him. And in a single, fluid motion dropped the weapon’s empty magazine and slammed another in, ending with the laser aimed at Lucan’s head from the hip. Through his mask, the man grinned, slightly wider on left due to the bullet that tore it open. Lucan took a step back; any sign of bravado falling from him.

  “I’ve been watching you, and I’ve gotta say, you’ve got style Lucan.” The man said. “But style, nor my personal opinion, doesn’t change the fact that I have to kill you. You’re a military man, you understand.”

  “Killing in cold blood? No... No I don’t.” Lucan said. It wasn’t bravado, but a more honest sense of courage stemming into him. He wasn’t afraid.

   Lucan took in a slow, deep breath. Shifted his weight to his back foot and leaned just an inch to the right. A glint of light caught on the rifle’s trigger as it fell back. The quiet snap of the hammer hitting the round rung out. Lucan twisted his foot, leaning as far as he could as a 7.62 round zipped past his head. And with a flick of the wrist, his knife flew toward the man, stabbing into the soft skin on the back of the hand.

   The rifle again came to the floor with a ring, matched by footfalls charging toward the gunman. Adrenalin had overcome pain, and Lucan was running full-speed toward the man. The gunman saw him coming and swung at him with his uninjured hand. Lucan ducked, droved his elbow into the man’s stomach. and smashed his nose with the back of his fist.

   The gunman stumbled backwards, pulling a handgun from a back holster and aiming it at Lucan. “No more games!” He yelled, chambering a round. Lucan’s eyes widened, widened enough to see a balding old man’s head stick out of the ladder followed by the barrel of a shotgun. Lucan smirked, and two gunshots rang out. The gunman was knocked forward by the blast, and his bullet went wild, hitting the ceiling. He collapsed in a pool of his own blood, dead. Lucan kicked the body onto its back, pulled the knife from his hand, and grabbed the automatic the man dropped.

  “Are you alright?” Elizabeth said. She had been cowering in the corner.

  “Yeah.” Lucan replied grimly, dropping the automatic in her hand. “Hold onto this.” She took the gun, nearly dropping it under its surprising weight. Lucan turned back to Akeem, who was pulling himself out of the manhole. “Thanks for the save.”

  “Na’ Problem” The old man said, dropping the empty shotgun and taking the scoped rifle from the floor. “Sa where’s the door?” He added.

  Lucan shrugged, saying “I’m not an architect.” A quiet click came from the center of the room. Lucan looked toward the body, seeing a small green sphere flying toward him. He leaned back and slammed the thing with his foot, sending it against the far wall, just able to read the words “High Explosive” written on it. In the last second, he threw Elizabeth to the ground and tried to follow. A brilliant yellow light erupted in the room, blasting right through the wall of the warehouse and sending sharp fragments all around the room.

   When his ears stopped ringing, Lucan’s mind instantly turned to the supposed corpse in the room, which was crawling away. He loaded the Peacemaker again, took a few staggering paces forward, and fired two into the man’s chest, and one in the head. Now satisfied that the gunman was dead, Lucan loaded another few rounds into the gun, holstered it, and walked back towards the woman who had made a face-plant on the ground.

  “You alright?” He said, extending a hand toward her.

  “Define ‘alright’.” She replied, taking his hand and pulling herself to her feet.

  “Maybe later. In the mean time, looks like we’ve got a door.” He said, pointing to the hole in the wall and the sunshine that fell in with it.

  “Don’t bother asking if I’m alright!” Akeem yelled, running after them.

Chapter Eleven

  “Striker One, at insertion point.”

  “Striker Two, in position.”

  “Striker Three, on post and ready.”

  “Striker Four, ready an’ raring.”

   The tall, rigid form of Sergeant Major Alexi Hydrin stood in the door of the Blackhawk as it descended upon the DarkSmith Police Department. The artificial wind created by the helicopter blew his short blond hair back and his eyes watered. He could see the roof closing fast, and gripped his M4 Carbine tight with the hand that wasn’t holding onto the fastrope, waiting to drop.

   The bird gave him a slight rock as it came to a stop twenty feet above the building. The pilot gave him a thumbs-up, the final signal to go. The Sergeant nodded and pushed his feet off the solid metal floor of the helicopter and into nothingness. The rope burned at his leather gloves with the friction as he fell to the aging roof of the even older precinct. He landed with a dull thump, sending shivers through the roof. He grabbed the trigger of the M4 and moved toward the roof-access door. He peered inside and saw the stairs covered in blood, and a body laying face-down in a pool of his own blood. Alexi carefully moved around the body as the assault team under his command began to file in after him.

   He reached the bottom of the stairs and reared his foot back to kick the door, and heard the squishing of flesh behind him and a scream of pain. He spun, only to see the corpse biting into one of his trooper’s legs. Alexi’s finger moved from the trigger guard to the hair-trigger and pressed down. The back of the man’s head erupted in blood as the soldier fell to the floor. One of the other soldiers gave his downed comrade his hand, only for the wounded soldier to jump up and bite him. Alexi fired into the soldier, killing him; but not before the soldier he had bitten sunk his teeth into another soldier, and then another.

   Alexi back-kicked the door and pulled the pin on one of his HE grenades. “Later, losers.” He said, throwing the grenade into the stairwell and closing the door behind him. A moment later and the entire stairwell erupted and the door flew off its hinges and smacked an oncoming zombie in the face. “Hell yeah!” The sergeant added, loading another magazine as he followed the signs toward the evidence room. Everywhere, there was chaos. Bodies littered the floor next to the shell casings that had put some of them down. Papers and personal items were scattered everywhere; a janitor’s worst nightmare. 

   He reached the door of his target and again reared back for a kick. And again, he was interrupted, this time by gunfire in the room behind him. He spun around and shouldered the door in, and followed up with two triple-bursts into each of the men that were advancing on a young woman on the floor. With their heads split open, they each fell. The sound of running feet came from behind. Two mangled soldiers were running at him. He repeated the two bursts into the head of each, dropped his empty magazine, and turned back toward the woman as another magazine met the chamber of his M4.

  “Who... Who’re you?” The woman said, struggling to her feet and brushing grime off her light blue uniform.

  “Down.” Was Alexi’s only reply as his red-dot sight fell on her. She gasped and ducked as three rounds sped into the skull of another police woman. Slowly, deliberately, Alexi lifted his carbine up and rested it on his shoulder. “I’m with the Army. I need the key to the record room. Now.” He said coolly.

  “Thanks for the save, but what’d you want in there for?” The police woman said in response.

  “Now.” Alexi repeated.

  “Fine. Take it.” She said, throwing the soldier a ring of keys. He nodded and returned to the door. He searched the ring, found the right key, and put it in the keyhole. A hand grabbed his shoulder a moment later, clenching down hard. He spun around and brought his M4 up in time for the zombified man to bite his rifle’s scope rather than its holder. He smashed the barrel of the rifle against the man’s face, rifle-butted him in the chest, and face-kicked him to the ground. He dropped to a knee and drove his combat-knife into the man’s head. A second later and a gunshot rang out, and a soft but heavy weight fell on his back. Another zombie. He pushed the re-corpse off and turned to face the police woman, holding the smoking gun. Another group of monsters was coming down the hall, numbering in the double-digits.

  “In. Now.” Alexi ordered, nodding toward the evidence room. He fired three bursts as the woman ran for the door, opened it, and ran inside. He closed the door behind them, letting the zombies bash against the hard iron door. With the door secure, the sergeant turned into the room and began to type on one of the computers.

   The police woman took a few steps into the room, still shaking from her near-death encounter with the undead. The soldier who had rescued her was pulling all the data the police had collected about the recent cannibal murders. And it all made sense. The murders were the first signs of the zombies. She shook her head, and loaded another magazine into her handgun.

  “I’m Noa, by the way.” She said, looking over his shoulder. The man grunted in response and moved to block her view. She shrugged and started looking out the windows for the fire escape. It was on the other side of the room, and led down onto main street where the old police blockade had been. Before it was overrun and the officers were slaughtered. She turned around again and saw the soldier pulling a black floppy disk out of the computer and put it in his pocket. He pulled a radio from his pack and pressed the button on the side.

  “This is Striker One. Mission complete. Requesting extraction on the precinct roof. Over.”

  “Copy that, Striker One. Swooping in, ETA one minute.” A man on the radio replied.

   Alexi turned to the window the police woman was looking out and bashed it out with the butt of his rifle. Two other soldiers were in the intersection below them, the forward of them carrying a wounded trooper on his shoulders.

  “Hang on, Striker Two! We’re inbound and hot, over!” One of the Blackhawk pilots said over the yelling going on through the platoon’s channel. Without warning, the wounded man attacked the man helping him just as the Hawk swung into the intersection. Within three seconds both of them were in the Hawk’s troop bay, and the windshield filled with blood. The helicopter spun wildly before ramming into a building across the street, exploding in a brilliant yellow-orange fireball. The third soldier went to a crouch and began firing into the oncoming crowd of zombies that must have been following them.

   Without thinking, Alexi swung over the windowsill and began running down the fire escape two steps at a time. He jumped the last five steps and began firing into the crowd, taking two with as many bullets on his way toward the soldier. He threw the man another M4 magazine and yelled “Follow me!” Before dashing toward the Blackhawk crash and yelling for evac over the radio.

   Both soldiers jumped over the waist-high rubble of the building’s front door and began firing out the windows. A second later and the police woman jumped in behind them. During his reload, Alexi glanced at the soldier’s name tag, which read “Romanova”. They had met before during basic. “Roman, check for survivors. Go!” Alexi yelled as he shot a pair of former police officers. The zombies were closing in, just under ten meters away. Alexi switched from triple-burst to full-auto and hosed the first wave of them, sending most to the ground but only killing a few. He reloaded again, taking the extra second to slide his bayonet onto the barrel of his gun before again firing into the crowd.

   Five meters, and they were still coming. He loaded his last magazine as the other soldier rejoined him, saying there were no survivors over the deafening automatic gunfire. Alexi switched to semi-automatic and picked off an even two dozen at nearly point-blank. When his magazine was empty, he pulled the P226 from his shoulder and fired it’s fifteen rounds of 9mm into the crowd to nearly no effect. Finally, he reached for another of the HE grenades, intending to go out with a bang. Romanova’s final bullet stuck a man in the head, and the gunfire ended. And it began again a moment later as a stream of bullets tore through the mob and another Blackhawk flew by, side guns blazing. With the mob reeling and a hole made, the Hawk came to a stop and the three survivors began to run toward their only hope.

  “Archer, get ‘em aboard! Now!” The pilot yelled to one of the troopers in the bay. He gave Alexi, Romanova and, reluctantly, Noa a hand into the chopper as the horde closed in yet again.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Alexi yelled toward the pilot as the side guns roared to life again. The horde and street fell away from them as the roofs grew closer. There was only a single other Blackhawk on the horizon, and only six soldiers aboard their own. A massacre.

[Krayt]

Chapter Twelve

   They had moved into an all encompassing darkness; the kind that can eat you alive and spit out a screaming husk. Not fifty feet from the manor, Lucan, Elizabeth, and Akeem had found the treetops cut off all the sunlight. Even in the middle of the day, they couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. It was the product of years as a heavily protected nature preserve.

   With one hand on his revolver, and the other outstretched, Lucan made his way forward, gingerly touching the ground ahead with the tip of his foot before taking the next step. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. “Stay close.” He said, taking another step forward and gingerly loosening his holster. A black streak ran before him, sending him flying back to the ground. It had been nothing but a flock of ravens, leaving the three in the wake of their now distant calls. Lucan pulled himself to his feet and brushed the soft dirt off his trenchcoat.

  “You alright?” Elizabeth said from just behind him.

  “Yeah. Just some birds.” He replied, sliding his revolver back into its original place.

   The crackling sound of moving leaves resounded from behind, echoing through the woods. As one, what must have been a full flock of ravens took to flight and roared toward the three with blinding speed. Lucan pulled his arm in front of his face just before the vanguard of the swarm rammed into them, claws and beaks shredding their clothes and scratching their skin.

  “Run!” He yelled, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm and running blindly forward as fast as his legs could carry him.

   The forest had literally come alive with the birds, each swarming down on them with terrifying fury. And the darkness only helped them. Lucan tripped over the roots of a tree and made a face-plant next to it, tripping Elizabeth in the process. With deafening roars, the ravens came down on them again. Neither of them could get up with the torrent of bodies rushing above and around them.

  “Akeem! Help!” Lucan yelled over their squawks. There was nothing. Akeem wasn’t there. “We’re screwed.” He said to himself, pulling the revolver from its holster and firing a pair of rounds into the flock as it passed overhead again. In the muzzle flashes, Lucan saw what looked like a hollow beneath the tree. Without thinking, he pushed Elizabeth in a dove in after her, just seconds before another squawking wave flew by.

  “You alright? Elizabeth asked, looking at the cuts along Lucan’s arms.

  “Yeah. I’m fine as long as they stay out of here.” Lucan replied, flipping his lighter on. “Elizabeth, don’t turn around.” He added after a moment.

  “What?” She asked, looking over her shoulder. She nearly bumped heads with a skeleton sitting against the root wall. She freaked out in the most vivid sense of the word. She let out an ear-piercing scream and made a mad dash for the way they had come in, running through the dark forest. Lucan yelled after her, but it was useless. She was terrified. Lucan swore under his breath and took off after her.

   Something moved overhead, making great haste toward Elizabeth. All Lucan could see was a giant wingspan as it swooped down at her.

  “Liz! Duck!” Lucan yelled, whipping his Colt Peacemaker out of its holster and firing a pair of shots at it. Elizabeth heard him and dove to the ground, just under the thing’s claws. Another four shots slammed into it, and it broke off. The creature flew off into the darkness between the ancient trees. “You alright?” He said, stopping next to the grounded form of Elizabeth. She silently extended her hand and Lucan helped her to her feet. “You look alright. We need to find Akeem, right now.” Lucan finished, reloading his revolver as he made his way forward. Elizabeth lagged behind for a moment, cradling her arm.


   Akeem Rhode continued running, as he had for what could have passed as forever. The beasts were still chasing him; their horrid, fleshy, wings flapping ever faster toward him. Through the darkness, he could see some kind of building looming ahead. His frazzled mind told him to run to it, told him whatever was there must have been better than the fate those winged beasts promised. His feet obeyed, taking him toward the iron double-doors of the concrete building. His hands obeyed, grabbing the door’s handle and forcing it open. His shoulder obeyed, slamming the door closed despite the snap of pain it caused. His back obeyed, pressing against the door as a pair of hard but wet objects slammed into it with shrieks of pain. Finally, he locked the door, even though he knew it meant leaving the detective and the girl without a way in... That he knew of.

   He had ended up in some form of storage room. Massive liquid storage tanks lined the room, each labeled with some kind of chemical composition he didn’t recognize. What looked like loading doors made up a good part of the room opposite the doors he came though, and made up his only reasonable course of action. He reached for the handle, but thought better of it and pulled his hand back, instead putting his ear to the door. He could just make out the hum of machinery coming from the other side. He pushed the door in with his foot, and pumped a round into the shotgun as it swung open. The large rectangle of a room housed what looked like an over-sized power generator, and the wall was lined with pipes that lead back the way he had come and through another wall section near another double door. And leaning against that door was a dead man in a hard-hat and workers clothes. Lying next to him was a small key labeled Rear Door. Akeem crouched, picked it up, and turned back around, only to come face-to-face with a ski-masked man with a gun pointed at him.

Chapter Thirteen

  “Can you see anything?” Lucan said, squinting just to see if he was about to hit a tree head-on. Elizabeth shook her head, even though Lucan couldn’t see it. “Two blind mice.” He groaned.

  “But at least one can see.” A voice said from behind. Lucan turned about, and saw the tell-tale green dots of Night-Vision goggles sitting atop a tree not far away. He pulled his revolver from its holster and pulled the trigger, forgetting he had fired all six shots. The gun clicked. It was too dark to see, and too dark to reload. He reached back and pulled the pistol from Elizabeth’s hand and aimed it at the pair of green dots as best he could. And his aim was returned by a small red dot appearing on his chest. “Looks like your caught between the dark and a hard case.” The man called down after the sound of a gun chambering.

  “Maybe so. Maybe so.” Lucan said under his breath, taking his left hand off his gun and grabbing Elizabeth’s trembling hand. “Three!” Lucan yelled up.

  The man laughed. “Two” He responded.

  “One!” Lucan yelled.

  “Go.” The gunman said.

   Lucan took off running, firing at the man as he went, and dragging Elizabeth behind him. What sounded like an automatic rifle fired at them, sending wood splinters flying at them as the train of bullets impacted just inches behind their targets. In the constant muzzle flashes, Lucan could just see a large tree a few yards ahead that might be big enough to shield them from the gunman’s bullets. He went for it, putting everything he had into the last few feet as the bullets edged closer to their targets. Finally, he felt his back slam into the hard bark of the tree, followed by the sound of Elizabeth doing the same. Another wave of bullets hit the tree that so generously shielded them. And finally, quiet. Lucan dropped the empty handgun and drew the Peacemaker again, trying to load it without seeing it. He fumbled with a few rounds, but relying on touch more than sight, he managed to get all six bullets loaded in the cylinder.

  “You can run. but you can’t hide!” They heard the man say, followed by the rapid shuffling of leaves. He was changing positions for the kill.

  “C’mon, let’s move.” Lucan said, hoping to use the man’s movements to go undetected. He didn’t make it three yards when the sound of running foot steps caught his attention. He turned toward the sound, only to see the silhouette of a man with a knife rushing toward him, just feet away. Lucan side-stepped, allowing the man’s momentum to force him past, giving Lucan enough time to draw his knife and put himself between Elizabeth and the man before their attacker had time to recover. And recover he did, spinning around, his glowing green goggles giving off an eerie effect in the other-wise black forest.

   Lucan held the knife in a reverse grip, anticipating the attacker’s next move. It didn’t come. The man stood there as still as an action—figure; if he was even breathing, Lucan couldn’t tell. There was no movement. Not from the man, not from Lucan, not from Elizabeth. There was a perverted tranquility about the place even amidst the danger. Lucan breathed heavily, the dark making him nervous, and the deathly still man making him even more so.

   Lucan flinched forward with the knife, trying to make the man move. He didn’t, but remained still. Enough was enough. He went for his Peacemaker, pulling it from his holster and leveling it at the man. Problem was, the man wasn’t there any longer.

  “Where’d he go” Lucan said. There was no response. Lucan looked over his shoulder for a moment and saw Elizabeth right where she had been. He turned back, and was nearly blinded by the dark green light just inches from his eyes. He couldn’t bring his gun about fast enough, and it was knocked away by the man. His knife barely blocked the attacker’s own as it came down on his throat. Metal ground against metal, and the two spun away from each other. They again faced toward their respective foe and charged in unison, with similar results. Their attacks negated the other’s, and they were in a contest of strength; trying to fore the other’s defenses back enough to make the killing blow before the other could.

   Something was wrong. Lucan was normally a strong man, but his attacker was forcing him back with little difficulty. He shifted his feet to keep himself from being toppled and put every bit of strength he had into the knife, desperately trying to stop the man’s attack. Lucan’s mind raced for an alternative to the contest, some way to get out before the man’s knife hit him, which seemed to be just seconds away.

   Of a sudden, the man lost his grip and staggered back. Lucan could just see another person had jumped on him. It was a female form. Elizabeth hit the man in the head again and again, covered his eyes, did everything she could to block him. Lucan took advantage of the chaos and rammed his blade forward and into the man’ rib cage. The man stumbled for another second before dropping to the ground.

  “Thanks.” Lucan said as he pulled the knife from the man’s already cold hands.

  “Yeah.” Elizabeth said, taking a few steps away.

   Using the man’s NV Goggles, Lucan spotted a building not far away And a final look at the man revealed a small key labeled Back Door. Might be for the building. The pair made their way to it, and the door opened easily with the key. They entered the room, lined with tanks of liquid.

Chapter Fourteen

   Lucan glanced around the darkened facility, and instantly locked onto the opened loading doors at the back. He pushed them further open, and stepped through. It was a generator room, with the deafening machine running overtime. At the far end was a workman’s corpse blocking the door. Lucan pushed the poor guy’s body out of the way and tried the door. The door rattled and gave way a bit, but something was holding it closed from the other side. Beyond the door, he could hear rapidly moving water, and lots of it. It sounded like the city dam. Chances were, it was.

  He motioned for Elizabeth to come over, and said “It’s blocked. Help me get this door moving.” She nodded, and together they pushed against the heavy door, inching it open with all their combined might. Presently, they made the opening a foot wide, and then two. That was all they needed to pass through.

  The view was breathtaking. They were now on the top of the dam, overlooking the man-made waterfall and the white rapids below. A shimmering rainbow had appeared in the mist of the rapids, showing it’s brilliant colors proudly.

   It took them awhile, but out of the corner of Elizabeth’s eye, she saw it. The head of a man above the concrete guard at the other end of the dam. She tugged on Lucan’s trenchcoat and pointed it out. He nodded and pulled his revolver out, telling her to stay where she was. He slowly made his way across the deck toward the man, taking a bead on the figure as he approached him. It was the man they had met in the sewers, about thirty years with short brown hair gelled up and a pair of old Ben Franklin-style spectacles. The man smiled coldly as Lucan approached and the long-barreled rifle the man carried came into view. Then what he was pointing it at. It was the driver, Akeem, on his knees with his hands and feet bound.

   Lucan pulled the hammer back and trained the gun on the man. “Let him go.” Lucan commanded, nodding toward Akeem.

  “You honestly think that will work? Just telling me to let him go, detective? Come now, you know more than that.”

  “You have three seconds.” Lucan replied, taking a step forward.

  “Three whole seconds?” The man said, smiling wickedly, “How generous.” With that, the man swung the gun around and returned Lucan’s aim. Slowly, the man began to back off, toward the door on the other side of the dam. And the dam began to shake with the force of an earthquake.

   Lucan stumbled, grabbed the side of the dam to steady himself, and fired his gun. The tremors threw his aim off and the bullet impacted on the concrete a foot from the man. He hit the hammer against his belt and fired again, this time correcting for the shaking ground he trod on. The slug hit the rifle the man carried and sent it flying over the side and into the churning rapids below. Another hit of the hammer and Lucan aimed at the unarmed man.

   The dam between Akeem and the man exploded in a hail of rubble as a massive red hand burst out and began to wave around. The massive tremor that brought sent Lucan to the ground. He fired at the hand, four square hits to no effect. Lucan scrambled to his feet as more of the red giant came out of the dam. He tried to run to the bound Akeem, but couldn’t make it before the entire arm was out and blocked his path.

   Desperately, Lucan tried to load another chamber full of rounds into the revolver. He tried to block out the rumbling and shaking and Akeem’s yelling, just tried to focus on reloading. The very to of the red beast’s head was out of it’s hole when Lucan finally loaded the last of the six cartridges. He pulled the hammer and fired, striking the first of it’s two yard-long yellow eyes. The monster roared in pair, the stench of its breath alone enough to send Lucan staggering back as it pulled itself further up.

   He recovered himself and fired again, and again, and again. No hit but the first seemed to faze the monster as it came ever closer and became ever higher. Lucan steadied himself and fired at the yellow eyes twice more, blowing an eyelash off and again striking the puffy yellow orb. The monster screamed again, spewing saliva onto both Lucan and Elizabeth. In fury, the beast swiped at it’s trenchcoated attacker, narrowly missing as Lucan tumbled out of it’s way. The beast screamed bloody murder and attacked the next best thing, a barely moving man at the mouth of it’s emergence hole. It brought its massive hand down on Akeem, crushing him underneath. Then swiped up his limp body and dropped it into it’s gaping, toothy maw. A river of blood and saliva dribbled out of its mouth for a moment before it roared again and began to retreat into it’s hole.

   “Akeem!” Lucan yelled, running to the mouth of the hole as the beast retreated. He fired a pair of his newly loaded bullets into the top of the monster’s head as it let itself back down. “Damn.” He said, stomping his foot in the concrete path.  “I wasn’t fast enough.” He said under his breath.

  “There’s nothing you could have” Elizabeth started.

  “No.” Lucan said, interrupting her, “Don’t. Don’t start.”

   From across the dam, they could just hear a faint clapping over the roar of the water. The suited man had reappeared with another copy of the M1 rifle he had earlie slung over his shoulder.

  “Maybe it would interest you, Detective, that your old friend isn’t dead. You can go down the hole, and maybe save him. Or, you can go through the doors behind me and stop the water supply from being poisoned. It’s your call.” With that, the man left through the doors.

[Krayt]

Chapter Fifteen

   Sgt. Hydrin looked over the now burning city in hopes of spotting more survivors of the strike team. He had counted a total of twelve survivors out of fifty troopers, half of them killed by their crazed comrades. They had no orders from command, and no options left but to keep circling until they heard from their superiors. And so the Blackhawk hovered above the City Hall while Romanova and Archer sniped at the crazed people that were still puttering around in the courtyard. He looked over his shoulder and at the police woman, Noa, who stood in front of the right side gun, replacing the gunner who had been killed by a whacked-out soldier.

  “Sir, we got something, left side.” The pilot yelled, pointing to a person moving around on the roof of an apartment building not far from the Hall.

  “Hawk two, take our position. We’re going to investigate.” Alexi said before waving a pair of fingers around and then pointing at the apartment. The helicopter jerked in response to the pilot’s commands and began flying toward the building.


   Kira Vasya looked over the steep drop from her apartment roof the street below. There was no way she would make it. She looked over her shoulder at the stairwell into the building, where the monsters were pounding against the door, trying to get to her. She pulled her .45 service automatic from the largest pocket in her trenchcoat and leveled the weapon at the slowly collapsing door.

   The sheet iron door came crashing out and a quartet of the horribly mutilated cannibals came rushing through. She fired, striking one in the head and sending her flying over the side of the building. Another was dispatched with a shot to the knee and head. The third, an armless old man, reached her and was kicked to the floor while Kira blew the head off of the last of them. She took a step forward and stomped on the head of the old man and dropped her half-empty magazine on his crushed face. She slammed another eight-round magazine into the colt .45 and aimed at the door as the unmistakable snarl of the monsters came again.

   There were more of them this time. At least twenty were coming up the stairs at once now. She pulled her brother’s matching automatic from her belt and leveled it beside her own gun. The first of the wave came through and went back in two bullets richer. Kira smiled to herself and continued rapid firing into the horde. They’d have to work for their food.


  “Alright! Go!” Alexi yelled, slamming a fresh magazine into the M4 carbine he carried and loading a HE grenade into it’s under-barrel launcher. The pilot began to descend on the rooftop, stopping just a few yards up. Alexi grabbed the rope and began the slide down, careful not to hit the survivor with his boot. He landed about six feet to her left and raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired three round bursts into the head of each monster that entered his sights.

  “Who the hell?” The woman yelled over the gunfire and roaring of the helicopter’s engines.

  “Not now!” Alexi yelled, pumping a grenade right into a young man’s stomach and letting it take three other killers with the first. And even he smirked when the woman sent a killer over the edge with a round-house kick to the face.

  “Sarge, you got something coming up the side of your building!” The pilot yelled over the radio. Alexi made an about face and saw what could only be described as giant cockroaches scaling the building. He loaded another grenade and fired, blowing two of the monsters off. The third and final made it to the roof, only to spring up and grab the Blackhawk. The bird broke away from the building as the survivor woman killed the final monster coming up the stairs.

  “We need to find better cover. Now!” Alexi yelled, grabbing the woman’s left hand and puling her along as he raced down the stairs just before another of the roaches slammed the entrance, covering it with it’s body.

  “Who are you?” She said, following him on her own power.

  “Delta Force.” Alexi said, loading another magazine into his rifle before going through the door to the lobby. “Where’s the parking lot?”

  “Bottom floor.” Kira said, “But I think you might want to stop in the boiler room first. One of your soldiers is down there. Wounded pretty badly too.

  “Lead on.” Alexi said, chambering a round into the carbine.

   Kira opened the boiler room door slowly in case the soldier was still conscious. She peeked in and saw nothing but the large machine that heated the rest of the building. Kira shook her head and closed the door. She then noticed a blood trail leading from the door to the elevator. Alexi was already hitting the call button. The cabin opened and a corpse fell out, it’s head blown in by numerous gunshots. The wounded soldier had definitely come this way.

   Alexi punched one of the buttons that had a blood smear on it, it was for the parking garage. They rode down, and braced for possible action as the door opened again a moment later. Alexi charged out, aiming his M4 every which way. Kira followed, keeping a Colt aimed to both flanks. She made a short whistle to catch the soldier’s attention should he still be there. Again, there was no response. Alexi sighed and began to test the locks on cars parked in the garage, hoping to find one with the keys still in it.

   Pay dirt. The door to a SUV creaked open, and the keys fell out of the sun visor. “Beautiful” Alexi said, sitting in the driver’s seat. But Kira stopped short of the door. A hand had grabbed her foot and a head was slowly making its way out from under the car. A head wearing a helmet identical to the soldier’s. Kira stumbled back, the hand about her boot tripping her and sending her onto the ground.

Chapter Sixteen

  “Poison the water supply?” Lucan said aloud, “What was he talking about?”

  “This lake this dam controls supplies the water to the whole county.” Elizabeth said, adding “I did a report on it in high school.”

   Lucan raised a questioning eyebrow at her before looking back down the tunnel dug into the dam. It was a simple question: The life of a man who had saved his, or the lives of the entire populace. It was a question of cold, uncaring numbers posed by a cold and uncaring man.

   Lucan took a step toward the hole, then toward the door of the dam, and then back to where had had started. He couldn’t send Elizabeth alone, and he couldn’t be in two places at once with his twin still very likely asleep. Time was running out; he had to make a choice.

   He kicked the dam’s door in and swept the control room with the barrel of his gun. Nothing. He pulled Elizabeth in and sighted in on one of the largest computer banks in the room. A program was already running, showing the time remaining until the poison was dumped into the lake. It was just under fifteen minutes. Lucan hit the abort button, and an error message popped up, asking for a password.

  “Lucan! You’d better look at this.” Elizabeth said, pointing to a monitor at the other end of the room. It showed a large group of the crazed and deformed people coming toward them from across the dam. As they made their way around the tunnel, Lucan saw the word LIVE flash at the bottom of the screen. He pushed a deactivated computer bank in front of the door, but knew it wouldn’t hold for long.

  “We have to find the password or the whole county’s dead.” He said, searching the room for some hint to the word they needed. None of the computer banks would say anything but “Input Password”, and the lone desk proved barren of anything more than mundane office supplies. A few moments later and the door began to shake as the killers pounded on the door, looking for a fresh meal. Under a pile of blank notebook paper, Lucan saw a small red button. With twelve minutes to go, he pressed it, and the back of the control room opened up into a long tunnel that likely led back into the sewers. He told Elizabeth to wait in the control room, drew his gun, and proceeded in.

   It took him a good minute to make his way down the earthen steps of the tunnel, by sheer value of the occasional light bulb strung atop the ceiling. The wooden door at the end of the tunnel creaked open into a fairly large cavern lined with corpses, each with their palms nailed to the earthen wall. Lucan grimaced at the sight and took a step back, bumping into something soft and cold. In a single fluid motion, he drew his knife and spun to face whatever he had bumped into. That something was none other than the man that had attacked him in both the mansion and the forest just minutes before. And that man now held a old-fashioned flamethrower’s nozzle in one hand, and an G36K assault rifle in the other.

  “Well now, isn’t this cozy.” The masked man said, aiming the G36 at Lucan, training the gun’s laser on him. Lucan didn’t return the man’s aim, knew he’d be shot down before he could aim, and so took a few step back instead. The man smiled through the ski-mask and dropped the flamer, letting it hang by it’s feeding tube, and grabbed the mask with the idle hand.

   Lucan’s jaw dropped as a familiar but alien face came into view – alien because of its long absence from the living, breathing world. It was the face of a lost friend.

  “James?” Lucan said, nearly dropping his blade but for the gun pointed at him.

  “Dead aim, compadre.” Lucan’s deceased partner said, chuckling wickedly.

  “Reality check, buddy boy,” Lucan said, planting his feet, “You’re dead and buried.”

  “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it.” The dead man said, his chuckle subsiding into a serious stare, his dark blue eyes going right through Lucan. Lucan returned the stare for a moment, but as he always had, he found himself looking away for a second. But he looked back, his face hidden by his long brown hair.

   The Gunman made his move, firing the rifle at Lucan. He saw what the gunman was doing a second early and dropped to a knee, letting the bullets pass overhead as he drew his Peacemaker. Lucan fired as the Gunman’s last bullet whizzed overhead. The bullet hit it’s mark, sending a squirt of blood out of the man’s chest and forcing him to stagger back. Lucan thumbed the hammer and stood, rushing toward the man and firing again, hitting him in the hand that held the rifle which dropped to the ground with a clatter.

   Lucan slashed at the man with the knife still in his off hand. The knife whizzed past the Gunman’s chest as he leaned back and away from the blow. Lucan spun with the miss, thumbed the hammer, and fired again at the climax of the spin, missing the man’s head by an inch. James raised the flamer and squeezed the trigger, sending a wave of liquid flame at Lucan, who barely ducked under the blast that singed the tail of his trenchcoat. He rolled forward and slashed up at the man from behind the flamer. The blade arced through the man’s light armor and sprayed crimson across his chest as he fell backwards from the sheer strength Lucan had put behind the attack. Lucan spun backwards as the flamer fired wildly. He cocked the Peacemaker again and aimed at the prone man. He fired, blowing a clean hole through the man’s head and spraying cherry pie across the wall behind him.

   Lucan dropped six empty shell casings from his gun and bent down over the man that had saved his life, and had tried to take it. Lucan pulled the Dogtags of the man’s chest and read them. Rather than a name, they gave a single word.

   “Hope.”

Chapter Seventeen

   Kira fell backwards onto the ground with a high-pitched yelp and fired one of her Colts wildly, blasting a nice hole in the ceiling just above the car. The head of one of the killer followed its hand out from under the car and started to crawl it’s way toward her. She desperately tried to bring at least one of her handguns to bear, but couldn’t manage that and scrambling away at the same time. She heard the soldier yell something she didn’t catch from inside the car, and the engine revved and the tires screeched.

   The car drove backward, slicing the monster in half. But the top half kept coming, dragging its entrails behind it. In a stroke of luck, the monster pried her boot off, thinking it to be her outer layer of skin. Kira staggered back and to her feet before leveling her duel .45s at the monster. A moment before she fired, the sedan came back and crushed the monster’s head into a pool of sickly red grey-matter. The soldier popped the passenger’s door open and yelled for her to get in. She did, and the car made a wide U-turn before racing toward the exit that was now becoming clogged by the killers who had heard the gunshot.

   The car broke through the crowd with a new coat of red paint, taking a hard right turn and making best haste away from the apartment complex. Every few moments the car made a sickly thump; some body part had been lodged in the car, a leftover from their vehicular crowd surfing. The car sped down Main Street at nearly a hundred miles an hour, liquidating any half-human that got in their way. Between hit and runs, Kira managed to say, “You got a name, trooper?”

  “Hydrin. Alexi Hydrin.” The soldier replied, taking a hard left and putting them on Eighth Street. She didn’t have time to say anything before a huge tanker truck roared onto the street a few intersections down, being chased by a number of the killers. The tanker crashed into the gas station at the end of the street, somehow avoiding the inevitable explosion. Kira felt something drop onto her lap, and looked down to see the soldier’s M4. “Shoot the truck. Now!” He yelled.

   Kira opened the door and leaned out, grabbing the seat belt in her left hand and pushing the gun’s foregrip against the door for stability. She lined her shots and fired full-auto, breaking a hole in the crowd that was eating the driver, and running out of ammunition just before reaching the truck’s explosive tank. She threw the carbine back into the car and drew both her Colt’s. She lined and fired, scoring six headshots and a number of body hits. The final round in the magazine of her left gun fired, and the truck went up in a deafening fireball just a block away from them. In the shock, she dropped her brother’s gun, sending sparks behind it as it shattered against the pavement. She swore under her breath and pulled herself back in as Alexi drove them through the burning wreckage of the station at a half-sane 80 MPH.

   She dropped the handgun’s magazine onto the floor and loaded another. Through the ringing in her ears, she thought she heard Alexi say “Didn’t learn that in the Girl Scouts, did ya’?”

  “My brother was an army guy,” She yelled like a deaf woman, “Taught me to shoot duel-wield.”

  The soldier scoffed and said, “I thought you looked familiar.”

   Before she could say “What?” The car shook as something landed on it. A moment later and the screeching of tearing metal overtook the ringing as the roof of the car came off. Kira looked up as a pair of bird-like creatures pulled the remainder of the roof off, intent of getting some canned food. She fired her magazine into the left most of the two and desperately reloaded. She brought the gun up as the roof flew off, and she saw what it was. It was a winged man, carrying a oversized axe. The insanity must have been contagious. She fired, and blew one of the man’s wings off. He tumbled away and crashed into the dumpster at the rear of the store that backed the gas station.

  “Back with the rest of your family!” She yelled, before realizing that the rest of the creature’s family was hover a dozen yards above the roofless car. She hoisted herself over the passenger’s seat and into the exposed backseat, along with the M4. She yelled “Magazine!” and was nearly hit in the face by the soldier’s equipment pack, filled my M4 magazines. She loaded one and began firing triple-bursts into the flock, downing three of them with the first magazine, and another with the one taped to the first’s bottom.

   The car took a hard right, nearly sending Kira out the side but by virtue of the seatbelt she still had tied around her left hand.  She pulled herself together and looked to the front of the car as it rumbled down what looked like Brown Street. Not far off, she could see a number of wrecked police cars forming a barricade. Alexi fumbled for his Radio, found it, and yelled, “Hawk One, need immediate an immediate airstrike, Brown and Sixth. Take the road block out. Hurry!” A second later, a large helicopter came into view round one of the offices that lined the street and passed them by, shredding a large portion of the creatures with it’s side mounted machineguns before a pair of soldiers leaned out of the doors and fired rockets at the barricade. A trail of white smoke followed the rounds o the roadblock, which exploded in a flash of orange light. She could see there wasn’t enough room for the car to get through, even with the hole punched in it. It had been double layered. There weren’t any side streets left, no getting off the road. Alexi hit the breaks and slammed the wheel around. The car spun wildly and smashed into the roadblock, throwing Alexi and Kira out the open top. 

[Krayt]

Chapter Eighteen

   Elizabeth pounded the keyboard as the computer rejected another password she had fed it. She entered another four letter word, Math, and stomped her foot in frustration as another red REJECTED appeared on screen. The timer at the top left corner of the screen beeped and began to flash a brighter shade of red, counting down from twenty seconds. The beeping was quickly drowned out by a renewal of the monster’s pounding on the door, forcing in just another inch. She tried another word, Pass, and the sound of a door slamming open drowned out the REJECTED beep. She spun toward the iron doors, but they were still holding. One of the hands that was protruding through the gap exploded after a trio of gunshots filled the room. She turned to the other door, where the trenchcoated detective stood with a rifle in one hand and a burning flamethrower in the other.

   Lucan threw the flamer down on the floor and hit the Enter button, returning the screen to the password entry. He looked down at the keyboard, hit the H, O, P, and E keys, and hit enter. Ten seconds. The screen changed to a status bar, reading, Confirming Password. Five Seconds. The screen flashed green and read,

  CONFIRMED!
Have a Nice Day. 

   Two seconds were still on the clock, and it stopped dead. Lucan took a step back and sighed a sigh of relief. That sigh soon broke into a roaring, hysterical laughter. One of the killers roared, and the laughter subsided into a wry, toothy smile as the detective about-faced and stuck the nozzle of the flamer out the crack in the door and roasted the killers in a stream of liquid death. Lucan’s laughter kicked back in as the monsters screeched in agony, their bodies melting away before the flame. It took him a minute to realize that Elizabeth was tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He turned around, still grinning from ear to ear.

  “I think they’re dead, detective.” She said, staring wide-eyed at the burning corpses that were the very definition of dead.

  “Yeah. Guess I got a little crazy there.” Lucan said, slinging the flamer’s nozzle and pushing the charred remains of the box away from the door. “C’mon, we still might be able to save Akeem.” He added dryly, knowing it wasn’t true. Elizabeth nodded silently and followed him. She cringed when she scraped her arm against the door’s frame, and again put her other hand over her injured forearm. She looked down at the small cut that remained from the monster’s attack. It was still bleeding just a bit. The detective whistled, snapping her attention to the large hole in the dam. She quickly met him there and stared down into the tunnel. It was as smooth as sheet glass, with no handholds or grips of any kind, but simply sloped down into a gradual turn toward the control room.

  “I don’t think we can climb down that.” Elizabeth said, stating the obvious.

  “Yeah. Guess we’ll have to find another way. Maybe there’s a door we missed.” Lucan said, turning back toward the control room. Elizabeth took another look at the tunnel and turned to follow Lucan. But, there was something wet under her foot. She looked down at the stuff; a pool of blood. She gasped and desperately tried to get her foot out of the stuff, and tripped backwards. She yelled out, screamed the detective’s name, as she fell into the tunnel. She hit her head on the turn in the tunnel, and closed her eyes and another few blows landed on her body from the drop. She screamed as she saw the end of the tunnel coming up, leading into a sewer.

   Elizabeth fell out of the tunnel in a roll, landing relatively intact in the flow of fairly clean water tat flowed through that part of the dam. She pulled herself to her knees and shook the water out of her hair. Everything was spinning, even when she stood still. She stepped back and leaned against the wall she was lucky to have avoided.

  “Wahoo!” a voice yelled from the tunnel. She looked up as the same voice yelled “Oh, crap!” and the detective came flying out of the hole, smashing right into the wall next to her head first. Almost like a cartoon, he peeled off the wall and fell into the sewer water behind her, splashing some of it on her face.

   Slowly, Lucan got the his feet, blinking hard to get the stinging chlorine-filled water out of his eyes. “That was fun. In a sick, twisted, not-at-all-fun way.” He muttered, flicking water off the sleeve of his trenchcoat and wiping his eyes. “You really want to save Akeem that bad, huh?” He added, nodding toward the tunnel above them.

  “Guess so.” She replied. Before she could finish turning her dazed frown into a half-smile, a loud alarm began to blare into the sewer and a red light flashed. The sound of rushing water followed it, coming from the grate in the wall just a few feet from them. Lucan yelled something, drowned out by the deafening roar of the water as it came at them. He grabbed her hand away from her ear and pulled her behind as he ran from the grate, around a corner in the sewer and down another passage. Behind them she could see a wave of water rushing toward them.

Chapter Nineteen

   Lucan could see a door at the end of the length of sewer they had entered, just a few yards away. He could hear the tidal wave gaining on them, even closer than the door was. If he could just push himself a little harder. No, he was dragging Elizabeth behind him, forcing her to keep up with him, and slowing him down. Any faster and her arm would probably come off. He heard her shriek, even over the roar of the water, knew it was starting to hit her. He tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled her forward, then forced her to the front. He let go of her hand and put every last bit of strength into his legs. He ran past her, grabbed the door, and found it locked.

   He spat out every curse he knew as he saw the wave out of the corner of his eye. His gun was empty, so he couldn’t shoot it open. He’d have to try and kick it. He jumped a foot back, planted his left foot and spun on it, slamming the right one into the doorknob. It didn’t work. He took another look back at the wave, and then at Elizabeth. He grabbed the top of her head and angled her gaze at him and mouthed “HELP” to her. She must have figured what he meant out on her own, because she moved beside him and planted her foot. Together, they kicked the door, and it caved in under their combined might. They rushed in, and Lucan slammed the door closed again, planting his back against it. A moment later and a shockwave hit the door, the liquid wall smashing pashed them. After about twenty seconds of this, the shaking and pounding stopped, but the pressure against the door remained. The water had settled in, blocking their way out.

   They had landed themselves in a water processing room. Some computer banks, a bunch of chemical barrels, and a table with chairs covered in papers were the only things in the room. As Elizabeth collapsed in one of the chairs, Lucan began glossing over the papers. They were mostly about waste management and cleaning supply orders. The one thing that caught his attention was a order form for a number of 10 x 5 x 5 glass cylinders. No real use for something like that in a sewer. No matter. He dumped the shell casings out of the Peacemaker and loaded his last six, and realized why he had been so sluggish during his run. He was still carrying the flamer he had lifted off James. It was still half-full, so he continued to hoof it around with him. Especially after seeing the killers melt away before it. Lucan smiled before walking over to one of the computers and booting it up.

   The short fanfare of Windows startup played as the screen came to life. It occurred to Lucan that it had been a power flux that had disabled all the computers, as a document restoration file immediately began to work, recovering files that had been active when the computer had died out. The file that came up on screen at then end was an inventory sheet, but dealing with living creatures and monsters rather than what the sewer would have needed. It listed dozens of each kind of monster they had faced, as well as dozens more they had been lucky enough to avoid. Sentinel Eels, Gargoyles, Carrier Humans, Giant Roaches, among others. The one thing that caught his attention, however, was a note attached to the bottom.

  “The creatures we have been able to create here are beyond words in both their horror and their beauty. The most lethal BOWs ever, and so simple to breed! However, I must confess that the towering Red Giant is the only one of our creations that we will continue to create. It is impervious to nearly everything our tests could throw at it. It stood up to an entire magazine from the anti-tank gun we fired at it without even flinching.

  “As always, we concluded our test by using the Amazons against it. This time, however, just two members of Red Company were able to kill the Giant by gouging it’s eye out, crawling into its skull through the socket, and destroying the brain. However, even the most well-trained soldiers from the best armies would never be able to pull something like that off.

  “But once again, it proves that the Amazons are the most lethal force on the face of the earth. However, even the best soldiers aren’t invulnerable to accidents. Red One, their “Queen” as they have come to be called, was injured when one of the APCs tipped over on the cargo elevator. Her injuries were extremely sever, but in the words of Dr. Hope ‘She’s not dead just yet’. We moved her to the subject observation ward and into one of the recovery units like those used breed the carriers. We believe that, given a steady stream of power to the unit (which is becoming problematic in and of itself), she will recover by mid December. But again, we are having trouble keeping the power on because of the recent damage done to the dam by one of the Red Giants. We’ve already had seven subjects escape their containers because of it, and eighteen members of Red Company were killed just yesterday during a break-out. Well, here’s to the dam control personnel!”

  “That was enlightening.” Lucan said. He’d figured it out. The power had gone dead, and the monsters being created in the facility got loose and killed everyone.  It was sad to think that all this had been caused by nothing more than a power failure. He’d never skimp out on his electricity bill again. He exited the document, and was greeted by another program, some kind of control unit. It asked if wanted to open “Cargo Bay Door 7-A”. He clicked yes, and waited. And waited. And clicked it again. Tapped his foot for a moment, clicked it again, and then again. Nothing happened. And then the rumbling started.

Chapter Twenty

  “Aw, hell, what now?” Lucan said, looking up at the ceiling as dust and fragments began to rain down to the steady shaking. Steady enough to be a heartbeat, or

“Footsteps.” Elizabeth said, matching his stare.

  “Double hell. We need to get outta here before that thing kills us.” Lucan replied as a large chunk of the concrete ceiling fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. “Or the ceiling does.”

  “But the water’s still blocking the door!” She said, pointing back at the strained iron door in the corner. Lucan thought for a moment, but that door was the only one in the room. Another chunk of the roof came in, crushing the wooden table before shattering. Lucan bit his lip and looked for options: There were none. He felt a small bit of concrete land on his head, looked up, and took a step back as a rather large piece dropped from the ceiling and onto the exact spot where he had stood. Another chunk came down, crushing the computer had had used moment earlier. There was a small opening in the wall, an unattended crack, where it had been. Just large enough to squeeze through.

   He didn’t even have to tell Elizabeth, as she was half way there when he saw it. He bolted for it, let her go through first, and followed. He needed to lose weight; he could barely squeeze through the crack while Elizabeth almost managed to walk through it. He chuckled dryly as the light from behind them ceased to exist after a long rumbling. The room had caved in. But, there was still some light, coming from ahead of them. He hurried.

  From the end of the crack came the roaring report of automatic weapons fire, followed by muzzle flashes and screams. Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks, and dropped to a knee when Lucan tapped her on the shoulder. He could see through the opening in the crack, which led into a large open room, the floor of which was smeared with blood. A trio of men in heavy black armor were in the center of the room, each firing the rifles they carried at targets out of the pair’s view. A figure darted past them, was hit by a long burst of rifle fire, and collapsed at the opening in the wall where they stood. It was a tall, lanky man with a long, fine tail and thin, boney wings.

   Lucan wished he could move his arms enough to cover Elizabeth’s eyes as the winged man’s head erupted in a crimson shower, a bullet through it’s head. And Lucan saw it for the first time: The outer walls of the room were coated in the winged beasts as they swarmed around the trio of soldiers. For some unseen reason, one of the creatures broke away from the swarm and charged right at the soldiers, and was quickly cut down. And while they had been busy with that, another one came at them from behind. Lucan couldn’t open his mouth before the rear-most soldier screamed as he was lifted up into the air by the bird-man. The other two soldiers aimed their guns up, but didn’t fire for fear of hitting their comrade. Lucan saw the outcome a mile away.

   The beast reared its long tail back and pushed forward with all its tremendous strength. The tip of the spiked tail went right into the soldier’s back. And not three seconds later, the tip of the tail was sticking out of the soldier’s mouth. The soldier went limp, and the monster threw him to the ground. The other two opened fire, tearing the monster the shreds. Over the returning gunfire, Lucan could just make out one of the two yelling, “Bravo! Go! Go! Go!”

   What must have been skylights on the roof shattered, and ropes hit the floor. The gunfire grew louder and more intense as more weapons added to the fray. Lucan could see about a dozen soldiers fast-roping into the building, firing all the way.  One of the soldiers was grabbed by another of the flying monsters, impaled, and thrown against the wall, just feet from where Lucan and Elizabeth watched.

  “Elizabeth,” Lucan said over the gunfire, “I need you to get down as low as you can.”

  “Oh, gawd, what are you gonna do?” She said as she dropped to a low kneel. Lucan didn’t answer, but grabbed the wall on either side and jumped over her, landing in a roll outside of the crack. He grabbed the gun from the dead soldier. An assault rifle he’d never seen before fitted with a grenade launcher. His mind went into automatic. He lined the reflex sight up with a group of the flying monsters, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger, held it down as the weapon spewed death into the flock. Half of them dropped with half of his magazine. A grenade went off just ahead of the flock, and they broke off, doubling back and giving Lucan trouble in the aiming department. He re-adjusted and squeezed he trigger again. All he saw was the mass of flying monsters headed his way. He’d pissed them off.

   He emptied the magazine into them and switched his hand forward. They came close, within a dozen yards, and he pulled the second trigger. A moment later the group was gone, replaced by a large bloodstain on the wall contained within a scorch mark. “Nice.”

   The flock was thinning, turning into scattered creatures and still-flying corpses. The gunfire died down as the last of them fell to the ground, accompanied by the rolling of shell casings, and then silence. One of the soldiers with seargents stripes yelled “Gonzales, get that consol working. Mariana, York, get these bodies cleared A-SAP!” The man then turned around and took a few steps forward. Then another few, until he was starting to breach Lucan’s personal space. “Who in the holy hell are you?” He demanded; all eyes turned toward the newcomer.

  “Name’s Vasya. Lucan Vasya.”