Cloak Games: Rebel Fist (9 page)

I wondered how many more of the rift ways had been opened, how many more of those weird glowing spheres were scattered around the city. 

We crossed something like three acres of gravel to reach the edge of the roof. Below the edge the covered skyway stretched over the street to the employee parking ramp. The Archons might have been clever enough to block the skyway, but they hadn’t put anyone on the roof. We climbed down the narrow steel ladder, crossed the over the top of the skyway, and climbed onto the parking structure. There were very few empty spots. 

Given the number of corpses I had seen in the skyway, I doubted any of the employees had escaped.  

I pulled out Loman’s wallet and checked his parking pass. Thankfully, the pass included the license plate and make and model of his car, a green Conquest Year 299 model Royal Motors Charioteer, which was a grandiose name for an old four-door sedan. We jogged along the rows of cars until I found Loman’s car on the second level of the garage. 

“This feels like stealing,” said Lydia as I unlocked the driver’s door. 

“He’s not going to need the car any time soon,” I said. Lydia blanched, but bit her lip, nodded, and got into the back. Russell climbed into the front passenger seat. “Russell, roll down the window and keep your gun ready. If any orcs try to shoot at us, shoot them first.”

“What about Archons?” said Russell. “Bullets won’t work on them.”

If we ran into any Archons, we were probably dead. 

“If we run into any Archons,” I said, “I’ll run them over.”

“That’s elfophobic,” said Russell and Lydia in unison. 

“Not when they’re trying to kill us,” I said, adjusting the seat. Loman had been a lot taller than I was. Of course, that was true of most people. 

A flash of color caught my eye.

A picture was pinned to the dashboard near the turn signal. It showed Loman, his equally plump wife, and three children, all of them smiling at the camera. I realized that I was looking at a widow and three orphans.

Unless they had been inside the mall, and then they were likely dead.

Those Rebels. Those goddamned Rebels. 

I felt Russell staring at me, and I looked at him. He looked at the picture, blinked a few times. Then he reached over and squeezed my arm.

“Thanks for getting us out,” he said.

“Yes,” said Lydia. “Thank you, Russell. And…and thank you, Miss Moran. I…I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.” 

I almost laughed. Apparently I was “Miss Moran” now. That was an improvement over “Natalie.” 

“Don’t thank me,” I said, starting the engine. “We’re not out yet.” 

Chapter 5: Not A Good Time

I eased the car through the parking ramp, looking for orcish soldiers. So far none had showed themselves, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The Archons had attacked Earth before, so presumably they knew about cars, and they would figure out they should blockade the parking structure sooner or later. 

Or maybe they were not here to conquer territory but to spread terror, which meant it made more sense just to blow up the parking ramp. 

Either way, we had to be careful.

I hated leaving my motorcycle behind. It was a stupid thing to worry about when so many people had been killed, but I loved that bike. But there was no way I could get Russell and Lydia out using a motorcycle. 

Speaking of Lydia, if the orcs started shooting at us, their bullets were going to tear through the Charioteer’s sides like paper. 

“Lydia,” I said. “If there’s shooting, get down. Like, on the floor, with your hands over your head. Got it?”

I saw her give a jerky nod in the rearview mirror. Her lips were moving in silence, and I realized that she was reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over in silence. I doubted God would listen to a thief and a liar like me, but maybe he would listen to a terrified teenage girl and deliver us from evil. 

“Should I get down?” said Russell.

“Nope,” I said. “I need both hands to drive. If someone shoots at us, shoot back. Feel free to shoot out the windshield if necessary.” 

“Man,” said Russell. He adjusted his grip on the AK-47. “We never practiced this in rifle club.” 

“Just been an educational day all around, hasn’t it?” I said, turning the last corner in the parking ramp. Before me the concrete ramp sloped down to the entrance, and I saw four orcs standing by the attendant’s booth. I don’t think they expected to see anyone. For a moment the orcish soldiers gaped at us.

Then they raised their weapons.

“Lydia!” I snapped. “Down!”

I stomped on the gas, and the Charioteer surged forward, the engine roaring. 

The orcs hadn’t expected to see a car, and they definitely hadn’t expected to a crazy woman to attempt to run them over. Muzzle flashes appeared at the barrels of their weapons, but I was going too fast, and the orcs scrambled out of our way. One of them was too slow, and the car’s bumper hit his left shin. We must have been doing at least forty, and with a hideous crunching noise the orcish soldier’s leg bent at an angle not seen in nature. 

I heard him howl in agony, and the car rocketed through the gate, breaking off the booth’s arm, and skidded into the street. I shot a quick look around, trying to see everything at once while I struggled to bring the car under control. The way back to the Ducal Mall’s parking lot was clear, but the broad driveway that led to the street was guarded by a dozen orcish soldiers. They had found concrete highway dividers somewhere, and were using them to blockade the street.

But they weren’t finished yet.

I spun the wheel, the ties squealing as we skidded across the asphalt, and I pointed the car at the half-assembled barricade. The orcish soldiers started to turn in surprise, raising their weapons.

One burst on full auto from any one of those AK-47s would kill us and cripple the car, and we had a dozen of the guns aimed at us. 

I stomped on the gas, and the engine roared, the car shooting forward. Lydia screamed in the back seat, and Russell yet out a startled yelp, struggling to aim his AK-47 as the car shuddered. The orcs opened fire, and the window to my left shattered in a spray of safety glass, and I heard the pinging sound as the bullets hit the fiberglass side panels of the car.

But I kept the gas pushed to the floor. 

“We’re going to hit the barriers!” shouted Russell. The orcs scattered, still taking shots at the car, the bullets pinging against the side. 

I kept the gas pressed down, and then wrenched the wheel as hard as I could to the right.

If I had tried that in a pickup truck or an SUV, I would have rolled the car right into the highway barriers, and the orcish soldiers could have amused themselves by digging our twisted bodies out of the wreckage. But the Royal Motors Charioteer was, to be blunt, a pretty crappy car, and the tires were narrower than they should have been.

So when I spun the wheel, the car went into a sideways slide. The driver’s side of the trunk slammed into an orcish soldier like a massive club, and I heard the cracking sound as the impact broke every bone in his legs. The orc hurtled backwards and flipped over the concrete highway dividers, discharging a few rounds from his gun into the air. The car skidded sideways through the gap and into the street, and I wrenched the wheel around and slammed on the gas again. The engine made a distinctly unhappy sound, but the Charioteer howled forward. 

There were a few scattered orcish soldiers in the street, and they started shooting at us. I made a snap decision and went right, driving with as much speed as I could coax from the old car. I spun the wheel again, swinging the fender towards an orc bringing his AK-47 towards us. He tried to line up a shot, but the left side of the front bumper rammed into him. A horrible jolt went through the car, and the orc fell backwards, the Charioteer driving over him with a loud crunching noise. Two sharp jolts went through the car, and then a moment later we were clear. I saw the orcish soldier rolling away from us in the rearview mirror, leaving a trail of blue blood in his wake.

The street ahead of us was clear.

I let out a long breath, my hands holding the wheel in a death grip. Deliver us from evil, Lydia had prayed. Maybe God had listened. 

Though I don’t know if running over an orcish soldier in a 299 Royal Motors Charioteer four-door sedan counted as delivery from evil, but I wasn't going to argue. 

“Anyone hurt?” I said. 

“I don’t think so,” said Russell, his voice shaky.

“Good,” I said. “Lydia? You okay?”

Silence answered me.

“Lydia?” said Russell in alarm, twisting around in his seat.

“One of the bullets went right through the door,” said Lydia. She sounded stunned. I wondered if she was going into shock. “Right through the door. I felt it tug at my hair. I can see the road through the hole in the door.”

“Russell,” I said, “check if she’s bleeding.” If Lydia had been shot, we would have to get her to a doctor. There was a hospital in Brookfield, and if I remembered right they had an urgent care center. Or I could try for the medical college in Wauwatosa, not far from my apartment. If it was only a minor wound, I might be able to take her to one of the clinics in Brookfield, or just patch her up myself. 

“No, no, I’m not hit,” said Lydia, pushing herself up. “It’s just…it was so close. So close. Another inch and it would have gone right through my head.” 

I twisted around to look at her. She wasn’t hurt, and she wasn’t bleeding, but her face was stark and white, and a little tremor went through her hands. I had seen that kind of thing before. As soon as the adrenalin wore off she was going to fall to pieces. Sometimes I had the same sort of thing happen to me on my more dangerous missions for Morvilind. I got through the job, but once I survived and got home I had to lie down for a while. 

She seemed like such a child…but I was only six or seven years older than she was. I couldn’t remember ever freaking out that badly in the face of danger. Morvilind and his teachers had beaten that out of me early on. 

“You’re bleeding,” said Lydia. 

“Eh?” I said, turning back towards the windshield. As I did, I realized that my lap was full of shattered safety glass, that I felt something wet trickling down my left temple. I glanced in the mirror and saw a shallow cut on my left temple. One of the pieces of glass had nicked me.

“She’s right,” said Russell. “Nadia, you’re hit, you’ve been shot…”

“What?” I laughed. “No, no. This is just a cut. Little one, too. I’ve been hurt worse than this.” I shook some of the broken glass from the folds of my left sleeve. “Good thing we took my bike to the mall. Jacket stopped most of the glass. Otherwise it might have cut up my left arm pretty good.” 

For a moment Russell didn’t say anything. We came to an intersection, the traffic lights dark, and I looked around. There was no sign of any other traffic, which was eerie. The middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, the streets should have been packed. I suppose with the power out and the network jammed, people were hunkering down at home and waiting to see what happened next. For a moment I considered heading for the freeway, and decided against it. If the Archons were launching a major attack on Milwaukee, they might have seized the freeways already. Or if the Rebels had supplied them with helicopters, they might shoot at any cars on the freeway. On the freeway, we would be sitting ducks. On the surface streets, at least, there were buildings we could use for cover. 

“Where did you learn to drive like that?” said Russell, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Oh, you know,” I said. I certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. One of Morvilind’s retainers had taught me how to drive, the lessons focusing on rather more extreme techniques than most teenagers learned. “I watch a lot of dramas where Homeland Security chase Rebels through downtown Los Angeles.”

“No, you don’t,” said Russell. “You hate TV.”

“Well, yes,” I said. The car made a grumbling noise.

“The check engine light just went on,” said Russell.

“Right,” I said. The grumbling stopped, and the car started sputter. I wasn’t sure if that was worse or not. 

“I think one of the bullets hit the battery,” said Russell, squinting at the bullet holes in the hood. “We probably shouldn’t stop the car. If we do, we might not get it started again.”

“How do you know that?” I said.

“Car club,” said Russell and Lydia in unison. They looked at each other, and Lydia gestured for him to continue. “After school car club, I mean. And look. The lights on the dashboard keep flickering.” He was right. “We should probably figure out where we’re going next.”

“Good point,” I said. “Lydia. Where do you live?” 

“76th Street and Washington,” said Lydia, her arms still wrapped around herself. “Um. It’s on the other side of the fairgrounds from here.”

“Yeah,” I said, pulling up my mental map of Milwaukee. It was only five or six miles away. It would be faster to take the freeway, but it would be safer to take the surface streets. For that matter, I wasn’t sure that Mr. Loman’s Charioteer could survive a trip at freeway speeds, giving some of the noises coming from the engine. “Here’s the plan. We’ll head for Lydia’s house first and drop her off. Anyone in your family a veteran, Lydia?”

“My father,” she said. “My grandfather, too.”

“So they’ll have guns,” I said. “They’ll have probably linked up with the other veterans living nearby to form a local militia.” In the event of an attack, discharged men-at-arms were trained to form units and wait for orders from the nearest Elven noble. “If we can find your family and it looks safe, we’ll leave you with them.”

“And if it isn’t?” said Lydia. “What if…what if they’ve killed my family?” 

I started to snap back that there was no point in worrying about it until we knew more, but Russell spoke before I answered.

“Then you’ll come with us,” said Russell. “James and Lucy will take you in. You can stay with us until this blows over. And your family’s probably fine. Milwaukee’s a big place, and the Archons will focus on more valuable targets. Going from house to house seems like a big waste of time, you know?”