Firefight (10 page)

I soon emerged into a small clearing with burned tents and a few smoking corpses. Obliteration was nowhere in sight.
He chose this place intentionally
, I thought, scanning the room with my rifle against my cheek.
We won’t be able to back each other up in here, and we’ll give our locations away by all the sound we’ll make
.

Sparks. I hadn’t expected Obliteration to be this clever. I preferred the image of him that I had in my head, that of the raging, mindless monster.

“Prof?” I whispered.

“I’m in,” he said over the line. “Where are you?”

“Near where he attacked,” I said, steeling myself against the sight of the corpses. “He’s not here anymore.”

“Come my way,” Prof said. “We’ll move in together. It would be too easy to take us if we’re separated.”

“Right.” I moved back to the outer wall and edged along toward where Prof’s bridge would intersect the building. I tried to move quietly, but growing up in a city made of steel doesn’t exactly prepare you for things like leaves and twigs. Nature kept crunching or squishing unexpectedly under my feet.

A crack sounded just behind me. I spun on it, heart thumping, and caught sight of fronds rustling. Something had been back there. Obliteration?

He’d have killed you immediately
, I thought. So what had it been? A bird? No, too large. Maybe one of the Babilarans who lived in this jungle?

What a
creepy
place. I resumed my progress, trying to look in every direction at once, moving steadily right up until the moment I heard Prof curse over the line.

Gunfire followed.

I ran then. It was probably a stupid move—I should have found cover. Prof knew my direction, and would avoid firing that way, but all kinds of crazy ricochets could happen in an enclosed space like this.

I charged anyway, bursting out into another clearing to find Prof kneeling beside the wall, bleeding from one shoulder. Dust rained down—the ceiling bulged with vines breaking through the plaster—where a stray bullet had hit. Nearby, shards of light evaporated on the ground, vanishing. Obliteration had teleported away just before I arrived.

I put my back to Prof, looking out into the dark jungle. “He has a gun?” I asked.

“No,” Prof said. “A sword. The slontze is carrying around a bloody
sword
.”

I covered us while Prof tied on a bandage. He could use his Epic powers to heal himself, but every use of his powers would push him toward darkness. In the past he had offset that by using only a smidge of power to heal from wounds, accelerating the process but not bringing him too much darkness. He could handle a little bit at a time.

“Guys,” Val’s voice cut in, “I’m setting up infrared surveillance of the building. I should have intel for you soon.”

“You all right, Jon?” Tia asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Fighting in this place is crazy. We’re likely to shoot one another in here. Mizzy, how’s that bomb?”

“Ready, sir.”

Prof stood and steadied his rifle against his good shoulder, the one Obliteration hadn’t stabbed with his sword. Prof
didn’t often carry a gun. In fact, he didn’t often go on point. I now knew that being in the field risked forcing him to use his powers to save himself.

“David,” he said to me, “go fetch the bomb.”

“I don’t want to leave you in he—”

“Regalia says that you actually killed Steelheart.”

We both froze. The voice had come from the darkness of the forest. A wind blew through one of the windows, rustling leaves.

“That is well,” the voice continued. “Someday, I presume, I would have needed to fight him myself. You have removed that obstacle from my path. For that, I bless you.”

Prof gestured curtly to the side with two fingers. I nodded, moving that direction. We needed to be close enough to cover one another, but far enough apart that Obliteration couldn’t pop in near the two of us and potentially fry us both with one burst. I didn’t know how long Prof’s shields would hold up against Obliteration’s heat, and I wasn’t exactly eager to find out firsthand.

“I have told Regalia,” Obliteration continued, “that I will kill her someday too. She doesn’t seem to mind.”

Where
was
that voice coming from? I thought I saw a shadow move near a tree that bulged with glowing fruit.

“Guys,” Val said into our ears, “he’s there, right in front of David. I can pick out his heat signature.”

Obliteration stepped out of the shadows. He touched a tree and it frosted over, the leaves shriveling. The entire thing died in an eyeblink as Obliteration absorbed its heat.

This time, I didn’t shoot him. I took a chance and shot at the ceiling.

Dust rained down.

Prof fired also.
He
shot at the ground near Obliteration’s feet.

The Epic looked at us, dumbfounded, then thrust out his hand, palm first.

A shot through the window whizzed over my shoulder and took Obliteration in the forehead—or the glowing outline of his forehead, as he vanished. I glanced back through the window. Mizzy waved distantly from her position on a nearby rooftop, holding her sniper rifle.

“What was that about?” Prof demanded. “Missing like that.”

“Dust from the ceiling,” I said. “It fell all over him, covering his shoulders. Tia, if you run my video feed, you might be able to tell if the dust ported with him when he vanished. That will answer your bomb question, Prof—whether he teleports with objects automatically, or if he has to choose.”

He grunted. “Clever.”

“And your shots at his feet?” I asked.

“Wanted to see if his danger sense triggered when he
thought
he was in danger, or if it triggered when he was
actually
in danger. He didn’t port when I wasn’t trying to hit him.”

I grinned across the room at Prof.

“Yes,” he said, “we’re very similar. Go get Mizzy’s bomb, you slontze.”

“Yes sir.” I scanned the room one more time, then ducked out the window, with Prof covering me. We’d moved away from the bridges, however, which put me on a wide ledge suspended ten or so feet above the water.

I looked down at those dark waters, stomach lurching, then forced myself to edge along until I got to a bridge. The nearby rooftops had become a ghost town. The people had all fled, leaving only smoldering tents and glowing paint.

I reached the bridge and crossed quickly, taking cover beside Mizzy. She handed me a glove, which I put on. That was followed by an innocent-looking package, square, roughly the size of a fist.

“Don’t drop it,” Mizzy said.

“Right.” Dropping explosives: bad.

“Not for the reason you think,” Mizzy said. “It’s coated with adhesive. The glove is no-stick, but anything else that touches the bomb will stick to it—including our bad guy.”

“Sounds viable.”

“I’ve got the mother signal; don’t get more than three or four rooftops from me.”

“Right.”

“Good luck. Don’t blow yourself up.”

“Like I’d blow myself up. Again.”

She looked up at me. “Again?”

“Long story.” I shot her a grin. “Cover me as I head back.”

“Wait a second,” she said, pointing. “I’ve got a better vantage from the next building over.”

I nodded and she started scuttling that way across a
very
precarious rope bridge. I turned back toward the building where Prof was, the one with the jungle inside. Using my scope and its night vision—which was kind of hard to do one-handed—I scanned the area.

There was no sign of him or of Obliteration. Hopefully Prof wasn’t hurt.

He’s practically immortal
, I reminded myself.
It’s not him that you have to worry about
.

I looked back over my shoulder and saw Mizzy reach the other end of her bridge—and then I heard screaming. From the building where Mizzy had just arrived.

“David,” Mizzy’s voice said in my earpiece. “There’s something going on here. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared from view.

“Wait, Mizzy—” I said. I stood up.

And found Obliteration standing beside me.

13

I
raised my rifle one-handed, but Obliteration slapped it aside and grabbed me by the throat. He lifted me off the ground by my neck.

Sparks! He had enhanced strength. None of my profiles mentioned that either. I was so panicked I didn’t even feel pain—just terror.

Despite that, I managed to reach out and slap Mizzy’s bomb onto Obliteration’s chest. He didn’t vanish. He just looked down as if curious.

I struggled in his grasp, growing more frantic as he choked me. I pried at his fingers in a fruitless attempt at escape as Obliteration casually kicked my gun away across the rooftop, then pulled my earpiece out of my ear and dropped it. He felt
at my jacket pockets until he found the mobile there, then squeezed it between two fingers.

I heard it crack inside my pocket. I thrashed and writhed more frantically, gasping for air. Where was Mizzy? She was supposed to be watching my back. Sparks! Prof would still be inside the jungle, hunting Obliteration, Val supporting him. If I couldn’t reach Tia on the mobile …

I had to save myself.
Make him vanish
, I thought.
The bomb will go off
. I punched at his head.

He ignored my weak battering. “So you’re the one,” he said, thoughtful. “She spoke of you. Did you really kill him? A youth, not yet a man?”

He let go of me. I dropped to my knees on the rooftop, my neck burning as I inhaled a ragged gasp of air.

Obliteration squatted down beside me.

Plaster dust on his shoulders
, a piece of me thought.
When he ports, he takes things that are touching him along
. That spoke well for the bomb.

“Well?” he asked. “Answer me, little one.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “I killed him. I’ll kill you too.”

Obliteration smiled. “Behold also the ships,” he whispered, “which though they be so great, yet are they turned about with a very small helm.… Do not sorrow for this end of days, little one. Make your peace with your maker. Today, you embrace the light.”

He took hold of the shirt under his trench coat, then ripped it off—bomb included—and tossed it away. Strangely, underneath he had a bandage wrapped around his chest, as if he had recently survived some severe wound.

I didn’t have time to think about that. Sparks! My hand darted toward Megan’s gun, but Obliteration grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me into the air.

The world spun around me, yet I was lucid enough to notice
when he held me out over the waters. I looked down at them, then struggled more frantically.

“You fear the depths, do you?” Obliteration asked. “The home of leviathan himself? Well, each man must face his fears, killer of gods. I would not send you to the undiscovered country unprepared. Thank you for slaying Steelheart. Surely your reward will be great.”

Then he dropped me.

I hit the black waters with a splash.

I thrashed in that cool darkness, weak from near strangulation, not knowing which way was up. Fortunately, I managed to cling to consciousness and surface in a sputtering mess. I grabbed hold of the building’s brickwork, then—breath coming in desperate wheezes—I began to climb toward the roof, which was about half a story up.

Exhausted, water streaming from my clothing, I flung an arm over the edge of the rooftop. Blessedly, Obliteration had moved on. I lifted a leg over the side, hauling myself up. Why would he drop me, then—

A flash of light beside me. Obliteration. He knelt down, something metal in his hands. A manacle? With a chain attached to it?

A ball and chain, like from the old days—the type prisoners would wear. Sparks! What kind of person had one of those handy, ready to go grab? He clasped it onto my ankle.

“You have a shield to protect you from my heat,” Obliteration said. “So you are prepared for that. But not for this, I suspect.”

He kicked the iron ball over the side of the roof.

I grunted as the ball fell, the weight wrenching my leg in its socket, threatening to tow me off the rooftop. I clung to the stonework ledge. How to escape? No rifle, no bomb. I had Megan’s pistol in my thigh holster, but if I let go of the rooftop to
grab it, that iron ball would pull me into the water. I panicked, grunting, fingers slipping on the stonework of the roof.

Obliteration bent down, close to my face. “And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven,” he whispered, “having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain.…”

At that he brought his hands up and shoved my shoulders, prying me off the rooftop. My fingernails tore and my skin scraped on the bricks as I fell. I splashed down again, this time with a great weight towing on my leg—like the dark waters were actively seeking to engulf me.

I flailed as I sank, searching for anything to stop my descent, and caught hold of a submerged window ledge.

Darkness all around me
.

I clung to it as a flash of light shone above. Obliteration leaving? The surface seemed so far away, though it couldn’t have been more than five feet.

Darkness. Darkness all around!

I hung on, but my arms were weak and my chest bursting for breath. My vision darkened. Terrified, I felt like the waters were crushing me.

That awful deep blackness
.

I couldn’t breathe.… I was going to …

No!

I summoned a burst of strength and thrust my hand upward to grab a brick ledge higher on the side of the building. I heaved myself toward the surface, but in the darkness of night I didn’t even know how far away from the air I was. The weight beneath me was too strong. The blackness encircled me.

My fingers slipped.

Something splashed into the water beside me. I felt something brush me—fingers on my leg.

The weight vanished.

I didn’t spare time to think. I pulled myself upward along
the submerged building with the last of my strength and burst into the open air, gasping. For a long moment I clung to the side of the building, breathing deeply, shaking, unable to think or really do anything but revel in oxygen.