Chemical Burn (18 page)

Wide Eyed

Shaking slightly from fear and shock, Xen froze as the Russian walked up to the bar and set the gasoline can on top of it. The gun never wavered as he tipped the can over and slid it down the bar, gasoline pouring out and spilling over onto the floor. All Xen could do was watch. The Russian reached the end of the bar and left the can there to empty out. He stepped back and faced Xen as gasoline fumes filled the air.

“Xen, yes? The chemist?” the assassin asked.

Xen nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

“You are one DiMarco’s thinks dead?”

Another tremor-nod.

“I think you should have stayed dead. Better than this, yes?” He nodded towards the gasoline on the bar.

“How did you know we were here?” Xen asked, finally able to speak.

The Russian smiled confidently.

“Had man on roof across way, waiting for that man.” The Russian pointed a thumb over his shoulder at my motionless form. “Now I not have to pay lookout. You killed him for me.” The assassin nodded to the corpse to Xen’s left with the TVs on top of the body. “My thanks. Maybe I just shoot you and not burn to death. You like this?”

Xen’s eyes grew impossibly wide, but not at the Russian’s question. I’d risen behind the Russian and wiped the blood off my chin.

“You missed me, asshole,” I growled, letting the old me loose. I spat out a mouthful of blood.

It was the Russian’s turn to look scared, and I had a feeling his own eyes grew wide. But he was a professional, after all. He spun around, the gun swinging quickly in a tight arc, but too late. The gun came round directly into my perfectly placed snap kick before the Russian could train it on me. The impact shot the Russian’s arm straight up, and the gun fired harmlessly into the wall and then went flying out of his hand.

I stepped in and hammered my elbow into left side of his jaw. He dropped down onto all fours but didn’t go all the way to the floor. In a flash, he snapped his hand down to his right ankle and pulled out a small Beretta, raising it quickly at me.

I was ready for it and snapped a front kick before he could point it at me. The gun sailed from his hand with a shot, but the bullet went wide, tearing a hole in the carpet and ricocheting off the concrete underneath.

“I figured you had a hideaway.” I smiled like the devil. “You should have waited to pull it.” I breathed heavily and spat out another mouthful of blood, this time on the Russian. “You shot my cat.” I let the fury take control as the Russian rolled back and jumped quickly to his feet. Xen had never seen me like this, had never seen the
thing
I used to be before coming to Earth. “Now I’m going to take you apart, one piece at a time.”

The Russian said nothing. He moved into a fighting stance, hands raised and flexing a jaw already starting to swell.

I closed in slowly, my own hands raised but held open, loosely. The Russian circled to my left, away from the bar. By the Russian’s stance, I could tell he knew how to use his legs. He shifted his weight and came up fast with a snap kick. I leaned back a bit and blocked it lightly with an open palm, waiting for the follow-up punches. They came an instant later, right on queue—a fast flurry of left-right combos that I easily blocked, moving back a step with each punch.

The Russian pulled back for an instant, creating the opening I needed. I let fly a quick right-jab, faster than he could see, landing it squarely on the swollen bruise that had formed on his jaw. As his head swiveled with the impact, I cocked my left leg and brought my foot around hard into his forward knee. The knee bent badly, shooting sideways in a direction knees are not supposed to go. He sank into his stance, trying to regain his footing, but he toppled. Rather than collapsing, however, he rolled to the side and came up immediately, favoring the leg. I smiled with grim satisfaction.

“Stings, don’t it?” I asked. “Now an arm.” I saw Xen move towards the Beretta on the floor between us. “Stay where you are, Xen,” I growled without looking, and the icy tone was an order, not a request. Xen froze, looking almost as afraid of me as he had the Russians.

The Russian went back to circling with his oh-so-satisfying limp. I shifted into the drift and let fly a fast left-right. The Russian blocked quickly and came around with a right aimed at my head. I leaned out of it and followed with a left that grazed his right cheek. The Russian leaned back and came up at my mid-section with a snap kick using the bad leg. It connected, but not hard enough to do more than slow me down. I stepped back, and the Russian smiled. I stepped in quickly and shot a weak kick at his face. He sidestepped and pivoted all the way around to his right. He hoped to catch me with a backhanded left.

Most men couldn’t pull off a punch like that quickly enough, but the guy was
really
fast, I’ll give him that. At least I knew why Yvgenny had made a point of warning me. It had probably connected plenty of times before for the guy, but not this time. I saw it coming, tilting my torso and raising my left hand just in time. I caught his wrist in an open hand and clamped down. I pulled in his left hand hard towards my body and, using my right forearm, smashed it into the Russian’s straightened elbow.

A sick, wet cracking sound filled the room as his elbow snapped, bending back ninety degrees in the wrong direction. He howled, but I didn’t let go. I kept pulling with my left and pushing with my right. He spun forward, losing his footing. I heaved with all my strength and sent him flying into the roulette wheel headfirst. He sailed into it, and the big wheel snapped off with a crash. Man and wheel bounced off the wall and toppled to the floor.

I stood where I was, almost casually, and waited for him to get back up. “You alive back there,” I called out. “Come on … I heard you Russians were supposed to be tough. Someone even warned me about you. Imagine that.”

He got to his knees, supporting his weight mostly on his right arm and leg. He looked at me with blood coming out of a broken nose and cut lip. He moved with fatalistic fury. He knew what was coming, but he got to his feet and stood, glaring at me. His left arm hung limply at his side. He grabbed it with his right hand and tucked his left hand into his belt, wincing as he did.

“You know what. I’m going to cut you some slack,” I said. “Stay there.” I backed away from him and, keeping an eye on him, went over to the two bodies piled by the back door. I bent over, pulled the switchblade out of the eye-socket where I’d left it and wiped the blood off on the corpse’s coat. I strolled back towards the Russian who went into a wary crouch, thinking I would come at him with the blade. Instead, I stopped at the end of the broken roulette table and lay the knife down. I took a few steps back, giving him plenty of room.

Narrowing his eyes, calculating if he should pick up the knife or not, he realized it was his only chance. He stepped forward. His twisted knee held his weight a little better, and he picked up the knife with his good hand. He spun it around so that the blade pointed down, away from his pinky.

I nodded as I went into a crouch. The Russian came at me slowly, steadily, without any fear. We both knew this was the endgame. He either killed me here and now, or it was all over for him.

He never slowed down. The instant he got within range, he popped forward with a fast kick to my knees and slashed at my face with the blade. I stepped back and let it sail by. His back swing was lightning fast, and I had to leap back another step to avoid getting a C-section. As his arm swung out, I popped up in the air and hammered a tight roundhouse into his broken elbow. He stumbled sideways with the impact and screamed in agony.

I pounced like a cat, dropping a hammer-fist across his good forearm. The impact broke his arm, and the knife dropped to the floor. My momentum carried my arm down right on top of the blade. I grabbed it, spun in a low crouch and slashed down to the bone across his right knee. His leg buckled as the severed tendons gave way and shot back up into his leg. I came around behind him and grabbed him by his hair.

I leaned in and whispered into his ear. “How many helpless people have you killed? How does it feel to be one of them, hmmm?” And there it was again. Someone could easily ask
me
the same question, with the same kind of rage for the things I’d done back home.

The Russian closed his eyes and waited for it. I wondered if someday I’d be in the same position, waiting for someone else’s killing blow.

I jammed the switchblade through the back of his neck. The tip of the blade came out through his throat, and he made a quiet gurgling sound. I let go of his hair. His eyes went wide, and he gurgled again, trying to say something, but only blood came out, pouring down his chin. He fell forward and never moved again. As his life expired, I felt the rage start to dwindle, and the one inside me who owned it faded as well.

I stood and walked over to my coat. I picked it up and reached into an inner pocket, pulling out a smooth, oblong device the size of my palm, concave on one side and convex on the other. I walked over to where Magdelain still lay on the floor, panting. She had reverted to her natural gray and green coat. I looked at Xen who now stared at Magdelain, his eyes still wide.

“It’s okay, girl. You’ll be fine,” I whispered “I’m sorry that bad man shot you,” I added as if talking to a child with a scraped knee. I placed the device over her wound. It glowed momentarily and then went dull-gray again. I reached under her, running my hand along the other side, feeling for any blood. “Did it get past these ribs, girl?” I asked, placing my hand gently on the device.

She weakly shook her head.

“You’ll feel fine in the morning. I’ll get you some Kobe beef. How does that sound? Would you like that?”

She nodded her head with a little more vigor.

I stood up and walked back to the bar. Grabbing the bottle of Wild Turkey, I filled the tumbler half full, set the bottle down and picked up the glass. I looked at Xen who stared blankly at me, speechless.

I raised the glass. “Budem,” I said and downed the whole thing. I set the empty glass back on the bar, staring into it. The silence dragged by like a corpse in a procession. I could feel Xen staring at me. “Owwww …” I finally said, rubbing my chest where the bullets had gone through. I rubbed at it like other people rubbed recently whacked funny bones. Collapsing onto one of the barstools, I looked down at the wood and sniffed the gasoline. Xen stared at me, then at Magdelain for a few seconds, then back at me.

“What the hell is that?” Xen asked a bit fearfully, pointing at Mag. “I’ll ask you why you’re not dead later. I don’t think I could handle the answer right now.”

“That’s Magdelain. You know, my cougar,” I said matter-of-factly without looking up.

“Cougar, my ass. What the hell is it?”

“It’s a … cat,” I said without conviction.

“Justin, I told you about my schooling, right?” Still mostly in shock, Xen’s scientific training got the best of him.

“Yeah. You said you had three PhDs.” I thought he showing remarkable calm, considering everything that had happened. I figured it was only a matter of time before he popped … and went around the bend a bit.

“Did I tell you what in?” he asked slowly.

“No, we never actually got around to that, but I’m assuming one was chemistry.”

“Chemistry,” Xen counted them off on his fingers slowly, “botany … and …
biology
, with a focus on mammalian life, coincidentally.” He pointed at Magdelain and said, “
That
doesn’t exist. Mind telling me how I’m looking at one?”

Mag lifted her head with a bit more strength and stuck her tongue out at him.

I looked at Mag with compassionate eyes. “Of course she exists. Look. He didn’t mean that girl,” I soothed. I turned back to Xen, rubbing my temple, “And it’s a long story. How about I tell you later?”

“I’d rather you tell me now.” I picked up a trace of frantic desperation in Xen’s voice. He was on the verge of popping. I could hear it is his voice.

I looked around the room, taking in all the destruction. “Shit,” I said to change the subject.

“What?”

“I told Marsha she wouldn’t even know I’d been here.”

“You do seem to be getting into the habit of wrecking other people’s places. It’s bad for your Karma. Which reminds me …” Xen stepped up and hit me in the arm …
hard
.

“Owwww! What the hell was that for? I’ve just been shot … remember?”

“That’s for my front fucking doors! For my fucking living room, and for my fucking kitchen!” Xen shouted, genuinely pissed off.

“Oh, yeah,” I said sheepishly. “That. Sorry. I may have to light one of my own houses on fire just to fix my Karma. How about I let you bring marshmallows?”

“You’re on,” Xen said way too seriously. “You know, you should be dead,” Xen added with a scared tone in his voice. The shock was wearing off. I could see it in his face. “How long have we known each other?” he asked.

“I don’t know … a little over two years,”

Xen’s face showed a mix of fear and fascination, bordering on a total freak-out. “Yeah. Well, I’ve known you long enough and seen and heard enough things to piece together that something isn’t normal about you. In fact, a whole lot of somethings. I’m not an idiot. But this?” he said motioning around the room. “This puts it way, way beyond impossible.…” He stared at me for a few seconds. “What the actual fuck?”

I sighed. “Fair question,” I said quietly and poured another glass of Wild Turkey. I would have to come clean with Xen, at least a big piece of the story, anyway. But I couldn’t right there and then. I reached into a coat pocket and pulled out my phone. “Look, can we talk about it later? I have to get this cleaned up.” My eyes pleaded for a break.

Xen hesitated for a moment, desperate for some sort of explanation. He looked around the room, took in the carnage and finally realized that there were eight dead bodies on the floor.

“Yeah. Later.” He reached behind the bar and pulled out a fresh tumbler. He filled it to the top with Wild Turkey and took three long gulps. Then he went into a coughing fit while I tried not to smile at him. I took a stiff belt of my own. Between coughs he said, “But we’re
going
to talk about it. You’re not getting off this particular hook. You hear me?” I heard steely resolve in his voice. Something I wasn’t used to.