Matt Archer: Blade's Edge (23 page)

Patterson gave the “ready” signal—hand up with his fingers together like he was going to wave at us.

Murphy flipped the switch to arm the detonator. “Here goes nothing.”

Patterson closed his hand into a fist, and he and Murphy pushed their buttons at the same time.

A roar ripped through the tunnel, and the walls shook from floor to ceiling as dirt rained down on our heads. For a minute I wondered if I’d accidentally suggested we all get buried alive. Then the dust settled and we waited.

Nothing came screeching down the passageway, and Patterson crept out of the small cave we’d hidden in. Sweat dripped down my neck; the tension was killing me. If we’d blocked in that tunnel, we were hosed.

A few minutes later, Patterson poked his head in, grinning. “Am I good, or am I good? The tunnel’s still partially open and all the baddies have either cut and run or been eliminated.”

“I’ll buy you a box of cigars later,” Uncle Mike said. “Let’s go.”

We filed out into the tunnel. As we got to the bigger passage, the walls widened enough that we could walk four abreast. Rocks had crumbled all over the floor where the Taken had been sitting—stalactites from the ceiling had broken off and fallen on them. A few pale arms and legs stuck out of the rubble. The ceiling was clear.

“Where’d the Takers go?” Johnson asked.

“Hopefully away,” I said, fury burning in my belly at the site of those mangled bodies. I’d kill a dozen Takers for each one if I could.

“We need to set a perimeter,” Uncle Mike said. “I’m betting they aren’t gone for good.”

I didn’t really care, because I was focused on the next cavern. I drew the knife with my left hand, testing my strength. It’s power warmed my arm; the spirit would help me fight wrong-handed again. “I’m going alone from here. The thing guarding Ramirez is knife work only.”

“You need backup,” Mike said. “We should radio Parker first.”

“We don’t have time. I saw Ramirez’s guard when the knife laid out the path. It knows I’m coming,” I said. “Besides, if the Takers come back, I need you to cover me when I bring out the major. Just stand ready and light the chamber once I get inside, okay?”

Mike gave me a terse nod and gathered the team at ready positions, rifles and flashlights aimed at the opening. I squared my shoulders, letting the knife’s righteous anger flood my veins. I wanted all the strength it could give me—this fight was personal. How that monster got here from the other cave so fast was anyone’s guess, but I wasn’t surprised to see her again. Either way, that scorpion-woman was toast.

I paused at the edge of the opening, peering into the darkness of the first cavern, the big dark one that led to the smaller chamber where she waited. It seemed empty, but I didn’t think she’d let me get to her that easily, so I flung myself through the door, knife held aloft. Flashlights clicked on behind me, illuminating the gloom. The chamber was bigger than I’d thought, about the size of a basketball court. Weird shadows flickered on the walls and the ceiling was too high for the flashlights to reach, leaving a layer of blackness over my head as I moved slowly forward.

A noise like a whimpering kitten stopped me cold. It came from a small bundle of rags huddled in the far corner, next to the door to the smaller chamber. The team’s flashlights weren’t strong enough to give me a good look at the bundle, so I clicked on my own, shining it at the corner.

Ice filled my chest. Oh, God, not this. Not this.

The bundle stopped whimpering and rose, a wraith in her dirty white nightgown, glowing in my flashlight’s beam. Her bare feet shuffled aimlessly and she didn’t acknowledge me at all.

My heart lurched. “Wait!”

The little girl stopped at the sound of my voice and her solid black eyes swiveled my direction.

I was too late. They’d already changed her.

Her once thick hair hung in greasy clumps around her shoulders, and her wrists and ankles were chapped raw. The knife vibrated in my hand and an overwhelming sadness weighed me down because this was my fault, too. I’d killed Schmitz, and I’d abandoned this little girl to a fate worse than death.

I had to do something for her, to make amends, but how did you save someone who was already gone? Not sure what else to do, I asked her, “Hey, do you remember me? I’m Matt. I tried to help you once.”

She stared at me. Shuffled a step my direction. “Ammtt.”

Was she just trying to repeat what I said, or did she understand me? “That’s right—Matt.”

Her head drooped, then she hissed. Every muscle in her body went rigid and the hissing turned to a wail that bounced off the walls. She raised one skinny arm, pointing at my hand.

The knife vibrated again and I realized what was upsetting the girl. Moving slowly, I slid the blade into its sheath, then held up my empty hands, showing the girl the knife was gone, but she continued to screech. Horrible gurgling cries answered from the next cave. This wasn’t good.

The girl bared her teeth, foam dripping from her lips. Moving in a flash, she grabbed a loose rock the size of a bowling ball and hurled it at my head. How’d she get so strong? I ducked fast enough to miss a dead-on smack, but it grazed my right shoulder, sending waves of pain shooting down my broken arm. She picked up another rock as I scrambled backwards. This time she clipped me on the side of the head and I caught my heel on an uneven part of the cave’s floor. Arms flailing, I fell on my back.

She came at me with unbelievable speed, propelled by some dark magic. Still running on adrenaline, I got my elbows under me and sat up. My right arm twinged, but I had worse things to deal with than a little pain. The girl held another rock—one big enough to crush my skull. My fingers brushed the butt of the pistol Schmitz had insisted I bring along.

Without thought, I drew the Beretta with my left hand. The girl leapt, rock held over her head. I closed my eyes and fired.

Her voice cut out mid-screech and I opened my eyes in time to see her thump to the floor. Her arms and legs rested in an awkward pile, like a rag doll dropped by a bored toddler. I crawled to my knees to check her out. She was dead; I’d shot her in the forehead.

I collapsed against the cave wall, shaking.

“Matt,” Uncle Mike yelled. He ran into the room, then skidded to a stop when he saw the dead girl on the floor. “Is that…? I’m so sorry, Chief.”

Sorry didn’t matter. I had no time to wallow, no time to think about what I’d just done. I pushed myself to my feet and holstered my pistol. I didn’t think I’d ever fire one again. “Tell the others I’m fine. If I’m not back with the major in ten minutes, go find Schmitz and take him home.”

I wrestled the knife out of its sheath and, standing tall and angry, I went to the final door. The last chamber glowed that same ugly green as the cavern where the scorpion had attacked me. Good, that meant she wasn’t wasting her time with the faux-goddess routine. I’d kill her either way, though.

The chamber was smaller than the last, and perfectly square. A ledge jutted out of the back wall, five feet off the ground with an opening barely wide enough for me to squeeze through. The knife buzzed in my left hand: anger, joy, reunion.

Ramirez was in there—we’d found him.

A clicking sound came from the rocks in the corner by Ramirez’s cell. The scorpion’s jade eyes, which glowed in the dark, watched me.

“I’m back, you bitch,” I growled. “And this time I know what you are, so why don’t you come out here and fight?”

She made a spitting noise, like laughter, and her eyes rose in the darkness as she stood to face me.

I’d forgotten how big she was and I tried to recall what I could about the scorpion’s body, especially her hard shell. I didn’t remember any weak points except for her eyes. The knife could probably penetrate her shell, but I wasn’t sure. When the scorpion’s feet clicked on the floor, my heart pounded, and my left hand tightened around the knife’s handle. It burned my fingers. The spirit was furious and wanted vengeance. So did I.

This demon-chick didn’t stand a chance.

Two chambers away, the team started shouting. Shrieks answered—Takers. Shots fired and someone screamed. Distant pinpoints of light bounced erratically as handheld flashlights were waved around. I hesitated, wondering if they needed my help.

The scorpion jumped from the shadows, stinger curled to strike. I threw myself to one side and she slid into the wall with a crunch. Hissing with anger, she spun fast and scrabbled my way.

I’m taking control!
the knife-spirited commanded.

“Whatever you want,” I said, rolling away from the scorpion’s body as it crashed into the spot I’d just been.

Something clicked in my brain. The rage, the grief, the betrayal I’d kept bottled up struck me like a lightning bolt. The entire knife glowed white, something I’d never seen, and righteousness rolled from the blade in sonic waves, vibrating off the walls.

Yes, we will strike her down.

I stood up straight. There wouldn’t be any evasive maneuvers; I would stand my ground because that’s what the knife-spirit ordered, and I was way too pissed to be scared.

The scorpion turned once again. When the white light from the blade hit her, she curled back on herself, ducking her head to shield her eyes. A piteous, rusty door hinge whine gurgled from her throat.

The knife-spirit made a triumphant noise in my head.
Return her to her master.

I rushed the scorpion without hesitating, holding the blade aloft. She struck at my head with her stinger and I swiped it from her tail in one clean slice. She howled then. Elation flooded my veins as I plunged the knife into her neck, just behind that ugly head. My thoughts began to merge with the knife-spirit’s even as I slashed the monster to pieces. Rip, tear,
rend her broken
…
fling her from the earth, back to the dark place she came from. Send her master a message that he doesn’t have the power…

A man shouted nearby. “Archer! What are you doing?”

Parker’s voice broke through the barrier the knife had created, enough for me to be conscious independent of the spirit. Enough to see that I was stabbing the scorpion over and over, screaming my head off. Parker shined his flashlight on me, catching me right in the eyes.

The spirit backed off; now I only sensed her as a trippy haze. I stepped away from the scorpion. The shell on her neck and skull had been pulverized. Dark green blood stained my fingers and the blade.

Parker approached me slowly, holding his hands out, and he had his knife drawn, like he was scared of me. The team wasn’t shouting anymore, either. Everything was quiet except for the scorpion’s blood dripping onto the stone floor. Feeling puke rise in my throat, I cleaned my blade on my filthy jacket, then rubbed my hands on my pants. Only a little of the blood came off, but I felt better for trying to get clean. I sheathed the knife, letting the last of the knife-spirit’s power drain away. My right arm started throbbing, and my head felt like it might explode worse than Patterson’s C-4.

“What happened out there?” I asked, avoiding Parker’s eyes. If I didn’t look at him, I wouldn’t see how crazy he thought I was. “I heard gunshots.”

“We stumbled into the cavern where blue team is, looking for the way out. We’d been turned around for hours,” Parker said. “Major Tannen told us that you were going into the last chamber, and he suggested I come after you. That’s when a gang of Takers showed up.”

“Anyone hurt?” I asked.

“A few. Nothing life-threatening, though. We heard this God-awful screeching, then the Takers dissolved into this black fog, and that was that.”

They’d disappeared when I killed the scorpion. “It’s over, then. We finished them off.”

“I think so,” he said. “Your team said you know where Ramirez is. We need to collect him.”

Feeling stupid for forgetting why I was here, I pointed at the ledge. “He’s in there.”

Parker gave me a boost, but scrambling onto the ledge one-armed was a pain. After I was settled, Parker jumped, caught the ledge in both hands, and pulled himself up in one fluid movement.

Laughing and punch drunk, I said, “Show off.”

He gave me a tired smile before peering through the crevice. “You’re right, he’s in there.”

Of course he was—my knife didn’t lie. But saying that out loud would make me look even more psycho. “Let’s get him out.”

I shimmied through the crack and shined my flashlight around a little cell no bigger than my bedroom, with a hole in the rock in the corner, probably a latrine. Ramirez was curled up on the floor, just like in my dream. He looked terrible. His skin was riddled with scabs at various stages of healing, his hair had grown out from its normal short buzz, and his arms and legs looked withered. He’d lost a good twenty pounds, easy.

The major didn’t notice the light pointed at him. Instead, he twitched, semi-conscious, gripping his knife. His whole body was curved around it, like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

It is,
the spirit whispered sadly.

Right. I knelt next to Ramirez and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Major, wake up.”

He clutched the knife tighter and covered his head. “No. No more. Please!”

My throat got tight; what had they done to him? “Major Ramirez, it’s Archer and Captain Parker. We’re here to take you home.”

“Home…home.”

I looked at Parker, feeling completely helpless. He knelt and tried shaking Ramirez, too. The major ignored him.

Communion. It’s the only way to ease his pain.

Not sure why, I drew my knife. “Parker, put a hand on your knife, and a hand on me, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow but did what I asked. I reached out with my left hand and laid it on Ramirez’s forehead. The knives pinged an unearthly chord, singing until the sound filled the whole space. Ramirez’s body relaxed, until his face finally looked peaceful. We couldn’t wake him up at all after that, though, so Parker went for help. The team would have to carry him out of the caves on a litter.

While I waited, I tried to work the knife free from Ramirez’s hand to keep it safe. His fingers wouldn’t uncurl. When I finally poked and prodded the handle out of his palm, his fingers stayed claw-like, frozen at the joints.

If that wasn’t enough to make a guy sick, I didn’t know what was. Based on everything we’d seen, Ramirez had probably held his knife twenty-four/seven for two weeks and crippled his fingers in the process. I sat with him, waiting for some release, some gladness because I’d killed the scorpion, gotten rid of the Takers and found our lost wielder. It didn’t come. My job felt unfinished; maybe because I’d failed. Two men had been killed on this mission, one on my watch, and the air felt contaminated with death.

Then I remembered something the knife had said during the fight…something about sending the scorpion back to her master? Maybe that’s why the job here felt unfinished—because it
wasn’t.
The dark pressed around me until I couldn’t breathe right.

Feeling the last of my strength slipping away, I leaned against the wall, clutching Ramirez’s injured hand in mine until help came and carried us both out.