Part 45 (1/2)

Snow swirled past Fear and Lucy, and the wind howled around them. They both felt the vibration in the air. There was no mistaking it. A train of such terrible power was coming that neither of them had any control over it. And it was coming fast, like some prehistoric shark catching a scent of spilled blood across miles of ocean. Fear had no problem whatsoever with the situation. He fixed Lucy with the coldest of stares.

And ran for waiting Celica.

Lucy watched him go with a swelling sense of terror inside. She knew that Fear was playing with her now, but she could do nothing to stop it. This time, fear was a motivator.

”Hurry,” she called out to Danny. She opened the back door for the men before slipping in behind the wheel of the sunbird. The feeling of approaching doom was intensifying. She was breathing faster now. Something very bad was going to happen soon. ”Please hurry!”

Danny almost swore. The man he was fumbling for was deep in the snow. He grasped the edges of a coat and pulled. There, in the twilight of the fire pumper's headlights, he saw the Stickman's face. He had found the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that had placed his friends in the hospital. The Stickman was unconscious and in his grip.

Danny's hands sought his throat.

”Hurry UP!” wailed Lucy from the driver's seat. Her voice made him look back. She was clawing at the air, gesturing for him to return to the car. There was something frightening about it.

”Come ON!” She shrieked, looking around wildly.

Then, Danny noticed it.

The wind had stopped for some reason.

”Come on!” Lucy screamed hoa.r.s.ely.

From where he lay on the road, broken and ruined and bleeding and still not dead, Maia's eye's flicked in the direction of the scream. The lady knew how to scream, Maia thought through his blizzard of pain. He had never experienced such agony while in human form. He supposed it was a taste of what would come once he returned to whence he came. That brought a chortle from his crushed ribcage, a pitiful rattle of a sound that caused the Minion's black blood to ooze from the corners of his mouth.

”Now!” Lucy continued to shriek.

Danny wanted nothing to do with this human sack of s.h.i.+t in his hands. He wanted to kill the f.u.c.ker right now. He bared his teeth and held onto the Stickman's neck, thinking it would be so easy to squeeze, just squeeze with all of his might and see what would happen to the killer in his grasp.

Then, the car was behind him.

”Get in!” Lucy screamed at him, her eyes wild. ”Get in before it's too f.u.c.king late!”

Danny looked at the wild woman behind the wheel of the car. She had backed the thing up almost on top on him.

And he did something that he would not understand later. He listened.

He released the Stickman's throat and hauled on his shoulders. He hoisted the little wall of a man out of the snow and practically threw him into the back seat of the car. He placed both of his hands on the roof.

”Oh s.h.i.+t,” he heard the woman say weakly.

The words made him pause. And look. Back in the direction of East.

There. A man. A big man.

Danny's face slackened.

He was naked from the waist up and as heavily muscled as any bodybuilder in their prime. He seemed to take shape out of the deep blackness of the highway night, and he walked up to the first fireman lying on the road. The newcomer wore heavy workman boots. The kind with steel toes.

When he got close enough to the first fireman, he kicked the unmoving man's face in. Danny heard the crunch of metal on bone.

”Jesus Christ!” Danny blurted, holding onto the roof.

”Get in!” Lucy begged him with red, wet eyes.

The fireman on the ground moaned in agony. He could not get away. The bare-chested behemoth stomped on gloved fingers. The scream that it produced did not impress Pain in the least. He wanted more. This plaything was almost spent it seemed, but nowhere near dying. Nowhere near at all.

”Please,” Lucy begged in a hoa.r.s.e pitying voice.

It was enough. Danny jumped aboard the car and pulled the door shut. He landed on top of Stickman coming back to his senses. There was recognition in his eyes, but he still did not have the strength to protect himself. A second later, he was slammed against the back seat as Lucy gave the sunbird a heavy shot of gas. She could not remember ever being so close to physical danger. In fact, she knew it was only the pain of the near-dead Minions on the highway that had saved her, distracting the monstrosity's attention long enough so that she could make her escape. She cursed Fear. He knew. Weeping over the steering wheel, she promised she would have a stern talk with that one.

The sunbird sped away from the fire truck and the scene that was unfolding.

Maia heard the car speeding away. They had escaped. He f.u.c.king knew it. They had escaped, yet again. The Ent.i.ties had a fortune about them that was enraging. He slowly blinked, hearing the sudden wail of Edwards. Then, it was Saunders, closer now. Maia tried to breath, tried to take a calming breath, but he could not. His rib cage felt like a shattered egg sh.e.l.l, kept only together by pink flesh and tissue.

Then, he felt the presence nearing him.

Maia sighed. It was not supposed to end this way. There was supposed to be War. There was supposed to be h.e.l.l on Earth. He was supposed to witness it all. It was not supposed to end this way. He attempted a snarl at the cruelness of it all, but it hurt too G.o.dd.a.m.n much.

Then, the shadow was over him.

Maia's eyes watered.

And the thing known as Pain smiled upon him.

From the cover of the forest, holding his axe before him like a holy symbol, Grey Northman watched impa.s.sively. He watched as the bare-chested giant of a man pulled the fire chief apart with his bare hands. First, the thing pulled both arms out of Maia's shrieking body, then the legs, twisting them this way and that, working them against the joint until they tore free like dead pieces of chicken. Then, the man went to work on Maia's crotch.

Grey Northman watched it all, unflinchingly. He recorded his brethren's suffering in his mind. He listened to their cries and moans of pain. It would motivate him later, those sounds and images. He was told that Maia could potentially fail. His Master had foreseen this happening. Maia suspected that Northman had coveted leaders.h.i.+p in his little coven of h.e.l.l raisers. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Northman had been sent to ensure that the War would still happen. Northman had been sent in case of Maia's failure.

Grey Northman was Plan B.

Northman eyed the fire truck. He could probably steal the red beast while the thing was still feasting on the agony of his brethren. If he was quiet, he might still survive. Northman corrected himself. Of course, he would survive. He was not like Maia. He would be careful. He was the last of Maia's group now. He had to be careful. He had to survive.

To ensure the death of a world.

Chapter 62.

Somewhere in the night, Tony came awake and was instantly alert. He had finished boarding up the five windows on the bottom floor of the cabin (he considered it lucky that there were only five) and sat down on the couch. Only for a moment, he told himself, only for a moment. But then, he was waking up. He had been seduced by the softness of the couch, and Death had let him. He glanced over at the other end.

Death was snoring like a rusty buzz saw, the near-empty bottle of Jack Daniels cradled in his arms. If it were any other time, Tony might have laughed.

But there was a b.u.mping at the door.

It was low, as if whatever it was had just fallen. Or maybe it was just a little zombie. A dwarf zombie. Then, it started to rise upwards towards the gla.s.s of the window. Something heavy hit the side of the door, and made Tony sit up straight. He stared wide eyed at the darkness. He blinked and swore and remembered he had a flashlight. He went for his pockets and hauled out the palm sized self-generating flashlight. He began squeezing and releasing the grip of the light where a sizeable b.u.t.ton stuck out. The light only flickered, and the short brazen bursts of light panicked Tony. Then, he saw there was a switch on the flashlight. He thumbed it, and the light remained. He got to his feet in a hurry, waving the ghostly beam around the cabin as if he were trying to attract the attention of any low flying aircraft. He pinpointed the beam on the door.

On cue, something big struck the door, hard. Gla.s.s broke, but the wood inside held. Tony gasped loudly and went into a combat ready crouch. He felt his pockets, again. He had the two knives he took from the corpses. The bat was on the couch. The hatchet, the mean looking one that looked more suitable for hacking up flesh instead of wood, was on the floor next to the bat. How did it get there? Tony lunged for it and s.n.a.t.c.hed it up with his right hand. He whirled about and lit up the door. His heart was going wild now, and he could see his breath in the silver light.

Something hit the planks, again, and the wood bulged inwards.