Bedlam Page 10

  Next to her stood a large man with thick-rimmed glasses. From the look of things, he was trying to talk some sense into her. It wasn’t going well.

  “If we shell the building,” he gestured toward the run-down mass of concrete and steel, “your killer dies. As far as I remember, my orders were to capture him.”

  “It!” Rush howled.

  “If you say so,” the officer said. “Besides, I haven’t yet been authorized to use heavy weaponry. For something like that, I’ll need…” —they both turned toward the sound of the Nameless’ footsteps— “the sheriff.”

  Rush was injured, but it didn’t seem too bad. Four thin lines of raw indigo flesh covered her right shoulder, reaching all the way to the forearm. The bleeding had stopped, but her clothing was still smudged with dark blue.

  “Bones,” she smirked. “You heard the man. Give the go, and we’ll grill this thing ‘till it’s well done!”

  “Your call,” said the officer. “Me, I’ve done my job.”

  “That you did.” The Nameless took a moment to inspect the scene. The building had a lot of broken windows, most of which were barred up. There was a carriage-sized hole in the south wall, but it was well covered by snipers. For Annabelle (or whatever she was now) to escape her foxhole, she would have to endure a long hail of bullets.

  Once more, he looked at Rush’s injury. Her smirk widened.

  “You said you liked tattoos,” she quipped.

  I will take time to appreciate them later, the Nameless thought. He wished Chastity still had her gift. Whether Rush’s injuries were life-threatening or not, he would need her at her best.

  “Has anyone tried talking to our killer?” he asked.

  Rush’s expression changed back into a frown. He paid it no heed.

  “We did,” the officer said. “When we weren’t busy arguing here, I mean. It’s useless, sir. Whoever…” He glanced Rush, then back to the Nameless. “Whatever is in there, doesn’t want this to end peacefully.”

  “We are not bombarding the structure,” said the Nameless.

  “Oh, fuck you,” Rush growled. “Why the shit not? It’s not in use, ‘n I bet it’s scheduled for demolition anyway. Might as well do a bit of public service along the way.”

  “I need to capture her,” the Nameless said.

  “Her.” Rush’s fury turned to resignation. “Why am I not surprised? Tell me, Bones, is there a single woman you’ve slept with who is just normal?”

  “One,” the Nameless said. “And she is dead. Now, are you going to help me with this, or am I going to have to do it alone?”

  Chastity spoke before Rush. “I will go with you. That… woman in there, she is my responsibility. Whatever she became, that is at least partially my fault.”

  “Keep it in your panties,” Rush said. “You do wear those, right? Bones here ain’t goin’ nowhere without me!” She flashed her eyes at the Nameless. “Am I right?”

  He took another good look around. The sight of the massacre upstairs was still fresh in his memory, and he wasn’t eager to have it repeated. However much he wished it were otherwise, Chastity, and especially Emile, would in all likelihood lose their lives in that building. And taking some guards off their posts would help her escape if she manages to outmaneuver us, as well as endanger their lives.

  “I’ve got no problem with that,” Emile slurred. Contrary to the Nameless’ hopes, he didn’t seem to have any idea what they were dealing with.

  “This responsibility falls on me and Rush only,” the Nameless said. He pulled out his pistols and set off toward the building. Rush’s rapid footsteps followed closely behind him. Chastity did not follow.

  “Y’know,” Rush said once they reached the door. She held a sleek black rifle with a flashlight duck-taped to it. “This might be your dumbest idea yet.”

  “I would not know about that.” The Nameless wound up before the entrance. “I have done my fair share of idiocy.”

  They kicked the door in unison. It flew in with such force it broke when it hit the opposing wall. The Nameless spotted toward their right, while Rush took the left. Neither saw anything of relevance.

  “These corridors should wind in the same direction,” said the Nameless.

  “They do,” Rush confirmed. Her flashlight was so bright it lit up the Nameless’ side as well.

  “Do you still have her scent?”

  “Its scent,” Rush insisted. “And I do. You were right, by the way. Piece of shit smells different when it kills.”

  “Is that the only thing that changes about her?” the Nameless asked.

  “Let’s hope we kill it before you get the chance to find out.” Rush said. “So… we stick together, right?”

  “Always,” the Nameless said. “I will take point. You will tell me where to go.”

  “Fuck that,” Rush said. “I whisper, it’s gonna hear us comin’ a hundred times over. I take point. You follow and shoot it when it jumps out.”

  “We do not exactly have the element of surprise,” said the Nameless. “She can run all she wants. If snipers spot her through any of the openings, our job becomes that much easier.”

  It took almost ten seconds for Rush to cave in. “Fine. Guess I can do without getting mangled twice.”

  “Agreed,” said the Nameless as he went to their right. She was behind him every step of the way.

  Guided by her instructions, he crossed a total of three corridors and a single large hall. A brief glimpse of a bygone conflict flickered before the Nameless’ eyes, but he brushed it aside. Those were different, darker times. He wanted to say he didn’t miss those times, but he also knew it would be a lie.

  Rush pointed down a set of stairs that disappeared into the darkness of the basement. “There. It’s waiting for us. Scared, I think. Heart rate’s through the roof.”

  Good. Perhaps we can force some compliance. The Nameless readied his guns. “Show some restraint. If she dies, we learn nothing about this whole horror.”

  “Riiiight,” Rush said as they descended the stairs. Nothing about her tone communicated sincerity.

  Despite the way it seemed, the basement wasn’t deep. It didn’t take long for Rush’s flashlight to catch the pallid, filth-encrusted figure of Annabelle standing in the middle of the square chamber. If they hadn’t known any better, they might have taken her for a scarecrow.

  “Still not moving,” Rush said.

  “I can see that,” said the Nameless.

  “Your mind still set?” Rush gently tapped the side of her rifle.

  “Yes,” the Nameless said. Though I wonder for how long.

  Annabelle was still stationary by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs. She was completely nude, not even trying to cover up. Upon closer examination, the Nameless observed that most of the “filth” that caked her was in fact encrusted blood. This wasn’t surprising, but a chill went up his spine regardless. It reminded him of her family’s camp, and the horrors that transpired there.

  She blinked, possibly for the first time since Rush and the Nameless entered the basement. Slowly, her brick-colored lips twisted into a smile. And the grimace kept widening.

  “Think about this,” the Nameless said to Annabelle. He was ready to shoot her in the knees at the slightest jerk. “If you attack us now, I guarantee that you will die tonight.”

  Annabelle’s smile stopped taking over her face. The sight was still nowhere near human.

  Yes. Reason. “I know what you have done. All of it. Whether or not you had a choice, what happened, happened.”

  Annabelle raised her right hand, gently pulling it over her lips, then her exposed teeth.

  “Regardless,” the Nameless continued, “I am offering you a choice of surrender. Come with us peacefully, and I will see to it that you get help.” He tilted his head in the direction of the exit. “Chastity is up there. You know, the Sister? She saved your life, remember?”

  Annabelle remained in place. Once again, she took on the mannerisms of a
high-quality statue. Suddenly, her hand ran across the side of her face, and widened the end of her mouth all the way up to her ear. Her teeth, formerly buck-shaped, seemed to be getting sharper.

  “Bones…” Rush cocked her rifle. “I can now hear two hearts!”

  Not an ounce of mind in her! Without hesitation, the Nameless squeezed both triggers. Flying in perfect unison, the pair of bullets tore through both of Annabelle’s knees, causing her to collapse on her stomach.

  “Stay down!” he shouted.

  Annabelle’s neck bent up, far past the limits of the human spine. Her hand, still lodged into the side of her head, kept opening her mouth further. A series of grotesque, mewling sounds escaped it as countless asymmetrical eyes started opening across both her face and the shoulder her tattered red hair exposed.

  “Fuck this!” Rush shouted as she started shooting. “Die, die, die!”

  The Nameless’ conscious mind wanted to protest, but his body kept squeezing the triggers. Firing as one, he and Rush showered the monstrosity that was once Annabelle with more lead than anything alive could survive. They didn’t stop until all three clips ran dry.

  “Jee-zus!” Rush ejected her clip, and found to her annoyance that she hadn’t remembered to bring a spare. “I’m not losing my mind, right? You saw it too, yeah?”

  The Nameless didn’t reply. Still doubting what he’d seen, he approached the mangled mass of flesh and bones and tried to make some sense of it. Was it the angel’s flesh? He circled around the body, stopping at its back. Or did something else do it? He crouched, poking a piece of bone with the empty pistol. What was it, Annabelle?

  Suddenly, and without a hint of a warning, the thing sprung to life. Muscles, sinew, and bone contracted, and the misshapen monstrosity collapsed on top of him, covering him in freshly-grown teeth.

  “Bones!” Rush shouted before the monster’s panting and huffing overpowered all sound other than the Nameless’ own screams.

  He contracted every last muscle in his body, fighting the amorphous blob as its spikes bit into his flesh. A legion of piercing green eyes opened up before his face, as if to watch him die up close. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the undulating mass of tumors split in two, revealing a tense (and very angry) Rush.

  Howling like a banshee, she tossed the monster’s right half aside, grabbed a pair of tusks from the left one, and ripped them out of the flesh as if they were cardboard Just as she was about to use them to cut the Nameless free, the part that bit into him unexpectedly released its grip.

  “Oh, shit—“ Rush growled as the flesh-mass turned and engulfed her, the force of impact sending both her and it down to the floor. Annabelle’s other half, apparently still alive, rose again and joined the rest of her in munching on Rush.

  A lot of muscle. The Nameless leapt to his feet, doing his best to ignore the pain. A lot of strong, regenerating bone. He took out his grenade and pulled the pin. Rush should survive, he thought as he counted to three.

  He didn’t look. He didn’t take the time to admire the pieces of Annabelle that inevitably broke off and splattered over the walls. No, the Nameless tossed the cooked grenade so it would explode above her body-mass, then leapt aside and covered his head.

  Please be alive.

  It took a good while for the Nameless to rise and turn. This time, he wasn’t as good at working through the pain.

  “Fuuuuck,” Rush moaned, lying on the floor. She was still in one piece, albeit most of the skin on her right side was gone, replaced by a painful-looking membrane of dark blue. “You insane motherfucker! Did you just blow me up?”

  You will get better, the Nameless thought as he fought the buzzing in his ears. Rush’s screams didn’t help his efforts.

  “Maybe a bit,” he said as he approached to help her up.

  “Screw that!” she ground through her teeth. “Shit-body just slithered up the stairs!”

  Right. Most of it is no longer here, the Nameless noticed.

  “You are injured,” he said.

  “I’m alive!” she roared. “You don’t want others to die, right? Well this thing’s charging headlong toward them!” She put her undamaged arm on the Nameless’ cheek. “We shot it, Bones! You exploded it! It didn’t die! Whaddaya think’ll happen outside?”

  The Nameless didn’t need to be told twice. He looked for his guns, but found only one. He reloaded it as he hobbled up the stairs. He didn’t look at Rush. Otherwise he may not have left her.

  He ran through the structure as fast as he could, this time led by the closing sound of gunfire. When he reached the exit, his jaw clenched at the sight. Outside the building, five men were down, hacked to pieces by the Annabelle-creature. She stood near their bodies, advancing toward the guards as they showered her with bullets. She had taken on a feline-like form, with four digitigrade legs on a lithe frame. Her flesh rippled, continuously reweaving after being torn apart by the hail of incoming gunfire. All it did was slow her down.

  One by one, the men’s clips ran empty. As they replaced them, so did Annabelle gain ground. Within seconds, the vanguard would have to retreat, and then the whole formation would break. A massacre, or at least a severe loss of life, was imminent.

  Stray bullets. The Nameless took a quick glimpse at the men she’d mangled. One of them, a poor soul whose bowels spilled over two of the deceased, still moved. He had lifted his hand, outstretching it toward the Nameless. His lips moved.

  The Nameless pointed his gun at the man’s forehead and pulled the trigger. You are welcome. He was immediately invigorated. He then took aim at the Annabelle-creature, and prepared to open fire. He wasn’t confident about the effectiveness of that plan, but it was something. There had to be an end to this. Even he couldn’t keep healing forever.

  Chastity stepping forward made him stay his hand. With each step she made toward the creature, more and more guards joined in the ceasefire. Annabelle reacted as well, but not violently. Her flesh and bones shifted again, rearranging with a series of nauseating crunches. By the time the nun stood before the now-upright Annabelle, the monster was no longer on all fours. Instead, her body settled more and more around the way she used to look.

  “Easy, now,” Chastity said calmly. With soothing, motherly grace, she extended a hand and pressed it against Annabelle’s forehead. “You’ve suffered enough. Time for you to find peace.”

  Instantly, Annabelle’s whole body caught fire. It wasn’t a red flame, but a brilliant white light that forced the Nameless to squint. Annabelle didn’t shake or flail her limbs, nor fight combustion in any visible way. She didn’t even scream. If there was any agony, it was notably brief.

  Chastity withdrew her hand. In tandem with her motion, Annabelle’s body scattered to ashes. The flabbergasted stares of the surrounding guards were only exceeded by that of Emile. The dumbstruck stare he gave the sister showed that he didn’t believe his own eyes.

  “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” Chastity whispered. Perhaps for the first time since meeting the Nameless, her expression betrayed a hint of sadness. It evaporated as soon as she looked at him.

  “I will be leaving first thing in the morning,” she said before turning toward the guards and striding away. The way they separated to let her through, she might have been on fire herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “One minute.” David held his finger in the air as he turned toward the Nameless, who had just entered the office. His expression changed the moment their eyes met, tension turning into hopefulness.

  He thinks I can shed some light on what happened. The Nameless shut the door. Well, David, prepare to be disappointed.

  “Stay there,” David said into the comm device he held with his other hand. “I’ll call you back.” He placed it on the desk of SIM, who was also in the middle of a conversation. “What in the name of Democracy’s festering corpse happened down there?”

  The Nameless was about to reply, but David kept talking.

  “What happened up her
e, for that matter? Almost fifty people died, and this… thing somehow managed to flee and keep killing! I…” He wiped the sweat off his brow. “I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a fuck-up of this magnitude, Nameless. Complete, one hundred percent turd-burrito!”

  “I have been thinking about it on the way here,” the Nameless said. “Annabelle,—the creature, she had been given precise instructions on what to do. The snipers’ locations, and how to hit them first. The window she needed to break in order to reach our guests directly. Even the escape route. There is cunning, and then there is this. There is no going around it: someone helped her.”

  “Please tell me you know who it is,” David said in frustration.

  Were things less grim, the Nameless might have smiled. He had no idea whatsoever. “My first suspect was Emile, but I now think it highly unlikely. He cannot control himself, let alone someone else.”

  “Who else, then?” David asked.

  “If I had to point fingers,” the Nameless said, “I would turn them in every direction. The guards on this floor. The people working in administration. Anyone spending extended amounts of time here is a potential suspect. And we have absolutely nothing to go on.”

  “So,” SIM said, his own conversation now over, “are we going to scour the floor? I can get everyone in one place so they don’t interfere, just say the word.”

  “That can wait,” said the Nameless. “For now, securing Chastity takes priority. She is leaving the city, and I intend for her to ride out in one piece. This has already been a disaster. The least I can do is prevent it from getting worse.”

  David sighed. He turned to SIM. “So what do you think happens now?”

  SIM took a quick glance at a piece of paper on his desk. “That depends on how much sway our friend Chas has back in the White City.” He looked at the Nameless. “Can you confirm what the others said? That she torched our killer with no more than a touch?”

  “I can,” said the Nameless. “I should also mention that I had never seen her do that before, even while the angel was still alive. Her flames—if we may call them that—would only burn away ailments and injury. Never living flesh.”