Sanctuary (18 page)

As we did, a new sound caught our ears. Laughter.

The Chemist.

He was cackling.

The disease flared inside me like fever.

His voice floated towards us from everywhere. “Would that be the lovely Shooter I hear?”

“Damn damn damn,” she hissed as we skirted backwards into some scrub bushes.

“Christ, that’s him?” Anderson hissed. “Shouting at us?”

“You may have noticed that my Chosen have ceased their aggressions,” the Chemist said, his voice amplified by the unnaturally quiet night. Where was he?! “You are granted safe passage. I give my word. It is time for Marc Antony and I to parlay.”

“Marc Anthony?” She frowned. “Who is Marc Anthony?”

“A Roman general. Didn’t you ever read Shakespeare? Right now he’s referring to me.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Can you smell him? I can. Blood and…and something else.”

“Yes. He’s pungent.”

Captain FBI looked askance at us, and he sniffed the air unsuccessfully. He shrugged.

“Okay. Let’s go,” I said.

“Go where?”

I grinned. “Go meet him.”

Anderson’s eyes bulged. “Is that a joke?”

“No. He promised.”

“
What??
He’s a madman!”

“He’s also polite. He wouldn’t lie and kill us,” I said. “Well, at least not immediately. He’ll talk a lot first.”

“This is insanity,” Samantha snarled. “We walked into his trap. And now we’re going to meet him, voluntarily. I hate hate hate this.”

“This is our chance, Shooter. We waited months.” She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger a long time and then said, “Okay, I’m going to the top of the bookstore. You distract him, I’ll blow his head off, and then we can all three die.”

“So I’m the bait?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.”

PuckDaddy groaned. So did Captain FBI.

Samantha said, “I hate this. Please don’t die. Let’s go.”

“Hang on,” I said. I pulled out my phone.

I love you, Katie Lopez.

I pressed Send, stowed the phone, and nodded to them. “Ready.”

We jogged across the quad, ghosts in our own graveyard. Samantha and Anderson angled away, towards the bookstore. The Chemist had advanced hearing, so he probably heard my heart pounding as I approached.

I found him in the thin, grassy quad between the long writing and math buildings. The buildings were parallel and evenly spaced, and he sat between them on a mountain of…something. His chair was resting four feet off the ground, sunk into what looked like two tons of cocaine. A pair of torches was burning on either side of him.

“You need a weapon, my son.” He was changed. During our previous encounter, the Chemist had been haughty and exuberant, full of both life and death. Now he appeared weak and emaciated. His voice lacked vigor. He still had long silver hair, and the heavy staff rested across his knees. “We all do. Even you.”

I indicated the surrounding college. “This has been your home the past six months? Probably the only place we didn’t look.”

He smiled, good-naturedly. “I am flattered. But this is not my home. Think of it as my…” He waved his hand in the air as he searched for the right word. “…my office.”

“Making your super drug?”

“Among other things.”

“Are you sitting on top of a hill of that stuff?”

“Yes. There is no charge for my stimulant. Free to all.”

“I’m here to kill you.”

“I know that, young man. That’s why you need a weapon. You won’t be able to with your bare hands. Your heart is too good. Too pure. Taking a life is messy. You haven’t the stomach.”

“We’ll see,” I said, shifting uneasily. But he was right. I couldn’t. I needed Samantha to do it. Where was she?

“Besides, even in my weakened state I’m still a match for you. Capable of brief violence.” He chuckled. “But I have other plans for you, Antony. I’m so very glad you see me as Brutus, the noblest Roman of them all.”

“Brutus lost that war.”

“Yes. Well. We’re in the business of re-writing history, aren’t we.”

“Your story has already been written. And you lose.”

He arched an amused brow. “How did you find me tonight? To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m going to wound you. Grievously, I am afraid. And then I’m going to remake you.”

The stirring air brought wafts of blood to my nostrils. I knew we temporarily stood in the center of a storm about to break. “Sounds like a party. But first, tell me. Why are you here? Why did you need Compton?”

“I told you before, dear boy. Because of you. When you revealed our existence to the newspaper, you accelerated everything. But I thrive on chaos. I couldn’t leave yet, so I just…annexed what I needed.”

“What do you need?”

“Time. Resources. You.”

“Resources for what?”

“Them,” he said, and he indicated the sky with his index finger. I glanced up. The rooftops of the surrounding buildings were lined with dark silhouettes blocking out the stars. There were dozens of silent and nearly invisible watchers. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. So many.

“Infected?”

He replied, “Chosen. Twice Chosen, more accurately. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, as the saying goes. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the wonders of gene therapy.”

“Gene therapy?” I didn’t understand. None of this made sense. He looked like an empty Capri Sun pouch, sucked dry.

“You are meant to
rule
them, Outlaw,” he whispered, his voice abruptly feverish. He leaned forward in his chair, causing small avalanches in the narcotic powder. “We come along once a generation, you and I. We control our gift, instead of the other way round.”

Puck whispered in my ear, startling me. “I can’t see you. I can’t hear him. I’ve lost contact with Carter. I don't know how to help.”

“Perhaps,” the Chemist smiled, reading my mind, “you are waiting for your friends? They won’t be much help, I’m afraid.”

I whirled, scanning the host above. Samantha and Anderson lay on their sides, balanced precariously on the edge of the two-story roof, hands bound behind their backs. Their mouths were gagged and blood flowed freely from head wounds. My eyes met Samantha’s, and she started bucking so fiercely it took three Infected to quell her.

Captured.

Now what??

If the Chemist dies, this nightmare will too.

“I vouched for your safe passage,” he said. It was more of a croak. He was tiring rapidly. “I will release them tomorrow, ultimately unharmed. But now that you and I have parlayed, I see you will not be swayed. You bear me ill will. There can be no peace between us.”

I intentionally sprung this trap, and now I needed to make it pay off. One shot, straight for his throat. I gathered my feet under me, preparing to leap. I felt the host above tensing.

He continued, “So let us begin. My newest creations aren’t exactly perfected, but they’ll do.”

Banks of windows either side of me exploded. A foul reek spilled out, and so did two enormous tigers.

Tigers
?!

They met in the middle of the lawn, between the Chemist and I, barring their fangs and shoving one another with forepaws the size of car doors. I knew nothing about tigers but these seemed…massive. Their heavy heads were level with mine. The bigger one, with a slightly whiter pelage, was roaring in short angry coughs.

“Genetic engineering, dear Outlaw!” the Chemist cackled with delight. I backpedaled slowly, so terrified I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could barely hear. Their scent was overpowering. “Thanks to Nepal, and borrowed research from various tiger genome projects, and a flare of creativity on my part, these two young beautiful animals have been…Infected.”

Puck was shouting, “What’s going on?? I can’t see! Why is Samantha not communicating?! Did he say something about tigers?”

I tried to reply but was unable to exhale. Samantha was screaming against the tape across her mouth.

Infected tigers…

Not possible…

“Join me.”

“No,” I managed.

“These beautiful beasts are sick. They have a disease that over-produces muscles and bones and adrenaline. Sound familiar? It will kill them before long, but until then… Can you not see the power? The possibilities? I’ve only begun changing the world. You’d be a fool to fight for the lesser side.”

“You’re more impressed with your fancy cats than I am.” My breath was coming in ragged heaves.

“They are more than fancy cats. You see, Outlaw…” He learned forward again, torchlight reflecting in his eyes. “…they share my DNA.”

I backed into a bush.

“Join me,” he insisted. “I made you. At birth. Don’t force me to undo it.”

“Sorry about this,” I heard myself say.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For killing your tigers.”

He threw back his head and laughed richly, clapping his hands.

One of his Infected flicked on a powerful flashlight, throwing a cone of brilliant illumination around me. Quick flashes, on off, on off. The animals responded, curling away from the Chemist and padding towards me. Their powerful shoulders pulled the earth towards them, closing the distance.

“Killing tigers?” Puck shouted. “
What??
”

They didn’t look mad. But they kept coming. My night vision had been destroyed by the flashlight. The animals moved like striped phantoms I couldn’t quite see. His ring of Infected began chanting rhythmically between outburst of laughter.

“I really need a weapon…”

“What?! What’s happening??”

Without warning, the smaller and darker tiger snarled and lunged. He was fast. He? Whatever. He was fast, and his claws extended and he caught me as I desperately tried to jump over him. He batted me out of the air, one razor claw snagging my belt. He dropped to all fours, slamming me into the turf. His fur was everywhere and his musk made me gag, and he lowered his open maw onto my head.

I put my fist into his teeth as hard as I could. His canines broke, and possibly so did the bone under his eye socket. He reared away, squealing in agony and surprise. Great gouges opened up along my hand and forearm as his broken teeth tugged and ripped.

“Tiger, tiger, burning bright,” sang the Chemist, his voice shrill and caroming off the bricks. “In the cities of the night. What immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

The larger animal swiped at me as I scrambled to my feet. Blood ran down my fingers, and blood poured from the wounded animal’s mouth. The spectators laughed and screeched. The Chemist loved a good audience.

“And when the stars threw down their spears,” he continued the poem, standing as his intensity increased. He used his infamous staff as a cane. “And watered heaven with their tears, did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?”

His staff!

The big tiger lunged, but this time I was ready. I easily leapt over him, though I nearly landed on the smaller, wounded animal beyond. He gave chase, wincing and yowling in pain. The gathering screamed a chorus of madness. I leaped away to avoid terrible claws, momentarily running along the side of the wall, heading towards the Chemist. Closer, closer.

He laughed and clapped with delight, reveling in the audience’s reaction. Too late did he realize I was coming for him. I reached. He ducked, so fast my eyes couldn’t process it. But I hadn’t swung at him. I swung at his staff. And I got it.

I sunk knee-deep into the powder. Off balance, he stumbled and sank too, on the other side of the mound. The staff was beyond heavy. It was impossibly heavy. How on earth did a metal rod weigh this much?? I turned in time to see the smaller tiger leave its feet, forepaws stretched towards me. I swung the staff with all my might and connected solidly with the animal’s skull, just behind his ear. In that moment of slowed time, I saw the light go out of his eyes. His brain essentially exploded on contact. Instant death.

Momentum propelled him into my chest, knocking me down and scattering the powder in a plume of smoke. The animal landed on top of me, pinning the staff and my hands beneath a half ton of dead flesh.

I couldn’t move!

Both the Chemist and the big tiger advanced.

“Very acrobatic. Have I mentioned recently how much I adore your mask?”

I heaved. Nothing happened. It was like wearing a straightjacket. The flashlight flicked on and off again, spotlighting me, marking me as a target.

The living tiger stepped onto my shoulder, his jaw’s wispy mane tickling my ear.

“You will not be devoured,” the Chemist said, like disciplining a child. “I will stop the tiger after you have suffered enough.”

“Very thoughtful,” I groaned, pushing and squirming.

The tiger calmly lowered his head and sunk five-inch teeth into my right shoulder.
Pain
!! Blinded by fur. No light, only darkness. My skin and muscles were thick and tough, but his jaws were powerful. All was strangely quiet, even his untamed Chosen. I could hear Samantha.

This isn’t how I want to go…

Katie…

Suddenly, Puck pierced my eardrum. “There he is!! About
time
, Carter! Go go go!!”

The tiger heard it first. He released my rotator cuff and looked up in alarm. Then we all heard the noise. An engine roared. Headlights, coming through the
windows
.

A heavy, white and bright orange CalTrans dump truck burst through the wall of the math building. Bricks and glass erupted like a bomb going off.

Croc was driving. He laid on the horn, screaming, “Wooooohooooooo!!” He cut the wheel and plowed straight into the tiger’s haunches. No time for the big cat to react. The animal’s pelvis shattered against the truck’s reinforced grill and the brick wall, and he howled in rage and pain.

Carter rode in the bed of the dump truck. Before contact with the tiger, he exited the vehicle, leaping into the night, straight over me. My eyes followed him, as if in slow motion, as he sailed headfirst into the stunned Chemist. Carter had a knife clamped
in his teeth
, which is still one the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

Before they hit the ground, the sky emptied of Infected. The Chemist’s legion poured in, descended upon us like animals, rallying to their master’s defense.