A Shot in the Dark (24 page)

“Guys, get your markers out. Have Cam magic the paintballs.” They all looked at me like I was crazy. “Come on, we don’t have much time!”

It took a few minutes to get the guns assembled, and another few for Cameron to gather up the willpower to actually cast the blessing. At the last second, Marty stuck a pocketful of change in the pile too, and we wound up with holy quarters and nickels. Hey, if he thought he could shoot those with a slingshot, more power to him.

I could smell the cloves on the air as Cameron passed his hands over the colorful jumble of ammunition, but the scent was so faint. The priest was just plain out of mojo, and I honestly wasn’t sure if he’d make it down the trail. If we couldn’t carry Zane, we damn sure couldn’t carry Zane
and
Cam.

I gave Zane my marker, hoping he could at least fire off a few shots with his good arm, and slipped my now free left hand under Cameron’s arms as he stood up. “All right, folks, hobble like your lives depend on it.”

It took a bit for the nasties to rally and come at us again. It was possible that they were afraid of Cam’s light, but I didn’t believe that. Handless was figuring out a better way to kill us. We got about fifteen minutes of peace and a good chunk of distance behind us without incident.

Then the howls started up, the voices all around, echoes of other people’s lives.

“I’m a little teapot!”

“Pow, right in the kisser!”

“Hey, does this smell funny to you?” The tiny bit of protection from Cameron’s blessed water still held, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-racking, marching through this gauntlet of macabre commercial slogans and sitcom theme songs.

It did occur to me, sometime during my stint as Cameron’s crutch, that we were leading the creatures down into a populated area. Sure, Ericson’s store wasn’t exactly a teeming metropolis, but there were innocents there. Somewhere along the way, we’d have to make a stand, get rid of as many of them as possible, or subject everyone there to the seductive lure of the stolen voices.

At the next dark patch in the trail, a place where the trees overhung enough to block out a good portion of the late-morning sun, we found out why they’d taken so long to attack us again. The bitch and her pack had set up an ambush for us. I was seriously going to have to talk to Axel about his definition of “feral,” ’cause these things were doing too much thinking for my comfort level.

The voices cut off abruptly at the same instant that Cameron threw a shoulder into my ribs, flattening me. A split second later, an enormous dead tree crashed down across the path, sending wickedly sharp pine needles flying like shrapnel. While the trunk missed us, we were both caught in the skeletal branches, and I couldn’t even struggle free before something dark and reeking landed on top of us. Only luck put my sword across my own chest, enough that I could use it to fend off my new best friend.

This one had tangled with something before. Something I rather suspected was Duke. There were gashes across what was left of its face, gray, decayed tendons visible through its hole-riddled cheeks as it gnashed its rotting teeth inches from my nose. Its breath—if you could even call it that—reeked of busted guts and bile. Only the thought that I’d choke to death kept me from vomiting, and even then it was a near miss.

And the worst part (yes, that other stuff wasn’t even the worst) was that I could almost see the human it had been in that ravaged visage. There was a strong jaw there, under the gore, high cheekbones. Once, this had been someone’s son, or father. Husband. Brother.

Of course, at this exact moment, it was trying to eat me, so my sympathetic horror had to take a backseat to survival.

For all that it had very little body mass, and its bones were made of balsa wood, the damn thing was strong! We fought over my katana’s blade, both of us gouging ourselves on the entangling tree branches. It wasn’t smart enough to let go of the sword to claw at my eyes, thank God and Buddha both, but the sharp side of the blade was slowly working its way through the filthy palms, and soon it would cut the hands right in half, leaving the thing free to collapse down on top of me.

Whatever I was lying on was wriggling, and I remembered Cameron about the same time his hand shot past my face, delicate gold chain dangling between his fingers. Whatever he had, he slapped it against the minion’s forehead with force, and a breath later it reeled back, abandoning its attack with an earsplitting shriek. Or, it would be if my hearing wasn’t already fried. Beneath me, Cam cried out in pain and writhed as he tried to protect his own ears.

No sooner did the creature stand fully upright than bone chips exploded out the left side of its skull. Something shiny and silver dropped out of the open mouth, and the scream was cut off abruptly. It dropped like a puppet with the strings cut.

Nothing else immediately tried to rearrange my bodily organs, and I sagged a bit, only then noticing how Cam’s knee was digging into the small of my back. He squirmed uncomfortably too, and with some effort, we managed to thrash our way clear of the dead branches.

The silver object from the now dead creature (I know it was dead, ’cause I stomped the skull to gooey bits, just to be sure) turned out to be a quarter. I fished it out of the tall grass and stuffed it in my pocket. Guess I really wouldn’t be able to give Marty any crap about his slingshot now.

The other gleam I retrieved from the foliage was Cam’s delicate gold chain, sporting a very plain gold cross. I handed it back to him, and he nodded his thanks.

We won that one, mostly. Aside from some nasty cuts and scratches—mostly mine and Cam’s—the tree had done little damage to us other than scattering our forces. There were four dead creatures, three of them splattered with colorful neon paint. I could see where the blessed paintballs had blistered the skin beneath, no doubt distracting them long enough for my brother to deliver the coup de grace with his gun.

One of the corpses was in several pieces, and Duke refused to relinquish the severed foot he was proudly carrying in his massive jaws. His brindle fur was as colorful as the things we’d just killed, and his muzzle was almost entirely neon pink.

I grimaced and swallowed hard. “Take that away from him.”

Marty looked at the big dog—who outweighed me by a good fifty pounds—and back at me. “You go ahead and try.” I didn’t.

None of the bodies was female. I checked twice. Handless was still out there, and we had no way of knowing where, or how many friends she had with her.
It. Think of it as an it.
If I started thinking of it as a person, even a former person, I was afraid I might go completely bonkers.

As we gathered ourselves to move on again, I cornered Marty. “How far do you think we still have to go?”

He glanced up and down the trail like he could chart our position just from looking. I don’t know, maybe he could. “Another half an hour, if we don’t get stopped. We should be in sight of Ericson’s by then.”

Our departure was delayed further when Will had to check Zane over. The black streaks were almost to his elbow by now, and even from a few yards away, I could see how fever bright his eyes were. Will had him dry swallow some painkillers, but it was just over-the-counter stuff. It wasn’t going to do much. He didn’t make a peep about how much pain he had to be in, but believe me, I knew, and my heart went out to the kid.

When we finally got moving, Oscar was supporting his son with one arm, but at least Cameron was managing on his own again. Somehow, our ragtag and wounded bunch managed to make it down the mountain.

I swear, I have never been so happy to see asphalt in my life, and only dignity kept me from dropping down and kissing the parking lot as we stepped out of the trees.

I’d had visions of the Suburban sitting there with four slashed tires, but luckily it seemed intact. While Will and Cole got the walking wounded loaded into the big truck, Marty went to retrieve the keys from the clerk. Me? I stood nervous guard on the side of the truck not visible to the store. Didn’t think I wanted to explain to the customers why I was running around the parking lot with a bared blade.

It was hard getting everyone into the truck when we had two more people than we started with. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to us to have Oscar get his own vehicle, but no one thought of that until hours later. Jackasses (me included).

Once we were all wedged in (and sadly, the sword had to be stowed for safety’s sake), Will started passing out cell phones from the glove compartment. Mine, of course, was dead. “Fuck!” I had Ivan’s number. I had Viljo’s. Neither of which could I get to in a dead phone. If someone was making a move on the rest of the champions, I had to warn them, and the stupid battery was fucking dead!

“Don’t you know the numbers?” Cole asked.

“No, I don’t know the numbers! I put them in the phone so I wouldn’t
have
to know the numbers!” I thumped my now useless piece of plastic and circuitry against his forehead.

Thankfully, Cole’s phone was still just fine, and he started trying to track down my wife to get her miracle poisoning cure for Zane. Not so thankfully, Mira seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet. She wasn’t answering the home phone or her cell and though Cole was set on going through his entire contact list, no one else seemed to know where she was either.

Please . . . please let her be okay . . .
She was at the movies. Or . . . getting her hair done, or . . . I pressed my head to the back of Marty’s seat and forced a few deep breaths. There were a couple of dozen explanations for her not answering the phone, all of them perfectly mundane and safe.

Focus, Jesse. One thing at a time. First, Zane had to get to a hospital.

Marty didn’t exactly squall tires getting out of the parking lot, but only because I’m not sure the Suburban was capable of such a feat. Next to me, Oscar was turned around in his seat, keeping an eye on Cameron and Zane, stuffed into the back with Duke. The big mutt had curled up next to the injured boy, as if his mere massive presence could make things all right.

Turned around as I was, also checking on the invalids, the first sign I had that something was wrong was the enormous “THUMP” and Marty spewing out more curse words than I even knew. The vehicle swerved hard, throwing me against the door, and something heavy dented in the roof, almost smacking Oscar in the back of the head.

“It’s on the roof!” Well, no shit, Will. Before any of us could do anything, the window next to Cole shattered inward, and a skeletal arm reached in, snagging his shirt with filthy, grasping fingers.

A grotesque head hung upside down in the window, and through the shouting and the broken glass and the careening truck, I recognized it as Handless. I couldn’t even imagine how she was hanging on with her stub of an arm, grappling my brother with the only hand she still possessed.

Cole had the heel of one palm jammed against her chin, trying to keep her snapping, snarling mouth away from his face, while the other pried at her fingers, her rotten skin coming away under his nails. “Somebody get this bitch off of me!”

I snatched Oscar by the belt and pitched him over the back of the seat, not caring if he landed on Cameron. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in the cramped backseat, but I managed to swing my legs around and aimed a few vicious kicks at Handless. Bone crunched under the first, and the second caused her to lose her grip. The filthy thing didn’t fall, though, using her hold on Cole to flip right side up, her clawed feet scratching loudly down the door as she looked for purchase.

Cole couldn’t get to his gun, and my sword was useless. But the truck was still moving, and I braced myself against my own door. “Cole! Door! Marty, tree!”

The Suburban swerved, and tree branches whipped through the broken window, spattering us with shredded leaves. Cole let go of Handless long enough to grab the door handle, and I kicked outward with all my might. The door went flying open, taking Handless with it, then slammed back shut with a crunch as it impacted the next tree we passed. Black goo splattered over Cole, and Handless’s now severed arm (the one
with
the hand) flopped into his lap, twitching feebly for a moment. And Handless was gone.

With a disgusted exclamation, Cole flung the arm out of the window, trying to scrub his hands off on his gore-splattered jeans.

“Did it kill her?” I crawled across Cole despite his protests, sticking my head as far out the window as I dared. I couldn’t find her.

“Sweet cartwheeling Jesus,” Cameron breathed, and I was inclined to agree with him despite the blasphemy. Only he wasn’t worried about Handless and her missing appendages. “Look.” He yanked on my shirt until I turned to look out the front window.

The road, about a hundred yards in front of the truck, was full of Yeti. Okay, there was just one Yeti, but damn he was huge. And very obviously pissed off.

“Jess, what do I do?” Marty asked, the truck slowing as he took his foot off the gas.

I leaned over the front seat to get a good look, locking eyes with the white-furred demon. “Punch it.”

“You mean it?”

“Hit him.”

Without hesitation, Marty put his foot in it, and the Suburban lurched forward, diesel engine roaring as we barreled toward the massive creature. The Yeti bellowed back, standing his ground as we came on, and I started to wonder if maybe I’d made a huge mistake.

Just as I tensed for impact, and Will braced his arms against the dash, muttering, “Oh shit,” the demon vanished, and we passed harmlessly through a cloud of quickly dispersing blight. When I turned to look out our back window, the road was empty.

I think every person in that truck deflated, letting out the breaths we’d collectively been holding. I clapped Marty on the shoulder, noting that only now was he flexing his white-knuckled hands on his steering wheel. “To Fort Collins, Jeeves. And don’t spare the horses.”

I collapsed into my seat, feeling broken glass grind against my legs, and I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

16

T
he nearest hospital was in Fort Collins, more than an hour away, but through some miracle we made it there in record time and unmolested.