Imperium (Caulborn) (24 page)

The metal plate above the elevator tore free and light poured in from upstairs. Neo-gremlins slid down on cables that dropped from above. No, not cables—vines. Megan had her 9mm in one hand, her alien blaster in the other. “I’ve got an idea,” I said, positioning myself in front of the brick section of wall. “Keep them off of me for a few minutes.” Megan’s guns answered for her. The first neo-gremlins fell. Well, the ones shot by the 9mm fell and lay on the ground screaming as they regenerated. The other ones simply sizzled out of existence.

I turned to the bricked up doorway and concentrated, telekinetically pressing against it. I increased the pressure until I started sliding backwards across the floor. I braced myself against the far wall with a second telekinetic push and heaved. Keeping the pressure up in two directions like this was taxing; sweat was running into my eyes and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. From behind me, Megan’s guns alternately cracked and buzzed. The zombies were moaning louder, banging on the doors.

My faith reserves were draining at an alarming rate. Finally, one of the bricks cracked. Others followed. Just a little more...

Megan screamed in pain. I kept the pressure up in both directions, but risked a glance over my shoulder. One of the orderlies had dropped down into the basement. A vine stretched from his left hand and he was pointing his right at Megan. Megan had thorns the size of ballpoint pens stuck in her right arm, the one that had held the blaster. There was no sign of the alien weapon, but Megan was snarling under her breath and the 9mm cracked a few more times. The vine man yelped and threw himself behind a neo-gremlin, whose head exploded as Megan kept firing.

The bricks slid backward a few inches.

“Vincent!” Megan had dropped back a few paces and was struggling to reload her 9mm one-handed. A neo-gremlin came rushing forward and stopped about ten paces from us. It pointed at us and laughed.

“
Ünterlegen
,” it said as it cackled. Then it opened the door on one of the zombie rooms. As the zombies shambled out, the golem sent out another volley of thorns. The thorns drove the zombies toward Megan and me. They surged forward. The bricks I was pressing against exploded outward, and I staggered back. The rancid scent of sewage that rushed in was so abrupt and revolting that I nearly threw up. I grabbed Megan’s wrist and pulled her forward, but the zombies got a grip on both of us.

Megan had reloaded her 9mm and blasted one of them in the chest at point blank range. A huge chunk of its midsection exploded out, but the creature held fast. Its nails bit into her, and she yowled in pain.

Another one grabbed me by the arm. Its nails, ragged and sharp, cut through my suit and into my forearm. I cried out and fumbled for the shock baton Gears had given me. I jammed it into my attacker’s stomach and activated it. A burst of blue light flared so bright that I was nearly blinded. My attacker went rigid and then fell to the ground, spasming and moaning.

I drew back and cracked Megan’s assailant across the face. Another burst of blue light and I was pretty sure the zombie’s eyes exploded. The smell of charred flesh stung my nostrils. I powered the baton down and telekinetically pushed against a sea of encroaching zombies. Their moans and groans continued as they were thrown about in heaps.

As they picked themselves up, I grabbed Megan by the wrist again and hauled her forward. She slammed against me and we almost went down, but somehow we managed to keep our balance. I needed to buy some time for us to get away. I called out to the rats ahead of us in the sewers and compelled waves of them forward. The tiny creatures charged into the zombies, scampering up their pant legs and devouring their dead flesh.

It was enough. The zombies in front stopped to swat the rodents away and that gave Megan and me just enough time to stumble down the stairs into the sewer tunnels below. “Can you run?” I asked.

“Away from this? Heck, yes,” Megan replied. She produced her flashlight and we jogged through the tunnels. We slipped and fell a lot, and wound up having to move at a fast walk. Eventually there were no signs of pursuit. “Can you see through the rats again?” Megan asked. “Tell if we’re being followed?”

I reached out again, and suddenly my psychic link vanished. Shit. “I’m out of power, Meg. Sorry.” Megan grunted. We sloshed through the sewers for about ten minutes until we came to an access ladder. I climbed up and strained to get the manhole cover off. I'm pretty strong, but pushing a hundred pound metal disk up while clinging to a slippery ladder wasn’t as easy as it might sound; I’ve gotten spoiled by having telekinesis. I finally got the cover off and Megan and I heaved ourselves up into the deliciously cold, comparatively clean air of the city. We were about two blocks from the clinic.

I rubbed at the spot where the zombie had clawed me. It stung. Megan was nursing her wounds, as well. She had pulled the thorns from her shoulder and in the dim streetlight I could see her sleeve was stained with blood. “You okay?” I asked.

“I’ll make it.” She looked around. “My car is where?”

I pointed to our right. She nodded and we hustled to the parking lot. Thunder cracked as we got into the car, and a thick, cold rain began to fall. Megan reached into the center console and pulled out a new pine air freshener. She hung it from the rear view mirror and sighed. “I don’t suppose this is going to do much good,” she said. “But it can’t hurt, right?”

I smiled at her as we started to move. The rain intensified, each drop sounded like a rock striking the car. Megan drove us back to the office. Jake sat stoically behind the desk and raised an eyebrow as we entered. His expression was concerned. “We’re okay, chief,” I said. “Just need to get to Mrs. Rita.”

Jake nodded and pressed a button. The doors behind him opened automatically, giving us a clear path to the medical facility, this time without the sirens.

“Thanks, Jake,” Megan said. Her dimple popped out for a moment, and I thought I saw Jake smile. We made it into the medical facility and found Mrs. Rita taping a crayon drawing to the wall behind her desk.

“Gods of my fathers,” she said as she turned around. “What is that smell?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Rita,” Megan said. “We had to take an unexpected jaunt through the sewers after we got ambushed by neo-gremlins and zombies.”

Mrs. Rita’s eyes went wide. “To the chemical showers, the both of you.” Mrs. Rita herded us into separate showers and blasted us with decontaminants. Exposure to sewage and rats are bad enough, but a zombie wound can inflict a terrible rotting disease to a normal person. Being immune to diseases, it wasn’t something I worried about. Megan’s another story. I wanted to get her here as fast as possible, and not just because of the promise that Orcus was holding me to. Zombification isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.

The foam chemicals we were doused with were thick and harsh smelling. It felt like Mrs. Rita was trying to drown me in bleach-scented shaving cream. “Scrub that through your hair, Vincent,” Mrs. Rita called over. Her voice was coming from Megan’s stall. She came into mine a moment later, in a full hazmat suit. I blushed and tried to cover myself.

Mrs. Rita tsked from inside her suit. “Please, Vincent. I have sons older than you.” She motioned for me to move over into another stream of the chemical wash. “Were you cut or shot?”

“I took a zombie scratch here,” I said, gesturing to my arm. “No big deal.”

Mrs. Rita gave me a serious look. “Be careful, Vincent. One of these days, something will slip past your immunities.”

“Won’t happen.” I smiled. “Gods don’t get to call in sick.” Mrs. Rita snorted and had me turn around. She scrubbed my back with a brush and then gently rubbed at the zombie bite with a cloth and swab. She placed the swab into a glass container and left me to finish washing. A moment later, pure water came gushing out of the showerhead and I rinsed the chemicals off. My body was sensitive all of a sudden, and I knew it was because the chemical spray had taken off a layer or two of skin. Once I was clean, Mrs. Rita handed over a towel and a spare set of clothes. I pulled on the UMass sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and walked back into the medical facility.

Megan had already dressed and stood barefoot in a pair of jeans and a Patriots T-shirt. They must’ve been some of Kristin’s, because she looked like a little girl trying to wear her older sister’s clothes.

Mrs. Rita looked at Megan. “You will need to stay here for the night for observation, Megan. There are beds in the next room over. Please make yourself comfortable. I will be in to check on you in about ten minutes.” She looked down at Megan’s bare feet. “I will also have Joseph bring in some shoes in your size. Until then, there should be some socks you can wear.”

Megan thanked Mrs. Rita and left.

The medicine woman turned to me. “I have seen you recover from zombie bites before, Vincent, so you do not need to stay here. However, if you feel like anything is wrong—”

“I’ll come here immediately. Don’t worry, Mrs. Rita. I’ll be fine.”

“I always worry about you children,” Mrs. Rita said. “It’s part of my job.”

I smiled at her and picked my way up to Gearstripper’s workshop. You don’t realize what an office carpet feels like until you walk on it barefoot.

Gears’ workshop was brightly lit as always. The floor of his shop was metal, and cold metal at that. I winced as I stepped on something pointy. I wondered if this was how Bruce Willis felt when he was filming Die Hard. I found the gremlin in front of a computer, tapping away on a keyboard. He looked up as I walked in, his yellow eyes widening. “Wow, Vinnie, you look terrible.”

“Thanks, Gears,” I said. I softened my voice. I’m not much good at stuff like this, but I wanted Gears to hear about this from me and not Megan. “Listen, I need to talk to you. Please sit down.” I told him about Axle. His ears drooped and his head fell forward. When he looked up again, there were tears in his yellow eyes.

“She deserved better than that,” he whispered.

“Gears, I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his shoulder. I felt useless for what seemed the hundred thousandth time. Could I do anything to make anyone feel better? Or am I only good at making people suffer more?

“No offense, Vinnie,” he said softly, “but I’d like to be alone for a little while.”

“None taken, Gears.” Gears hopped down and walked over to a cabinet, where he began rifling through a drawer. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Gears just walk before. Normally he scampers or skitters, but the normalcy of his movement was sad. I didn’t know what else to say, so I nodded to him and caught a cab back to my apartment.

The healing fever was starting to take hold by the time I got home. As I opened the door, I found Petra standing at the kitchen counter, chopping up bacon. She was dressed in a pair of pink sweats and a white Ghostbusters T-shirt. The smells of roasting meat and sauces were a welcome change from the nastiness of the sewers and decontaminating showers.

“Hey sweetie,” she said as I walked in. Her brow suddenly furrowed. “Vincent, are you all right?” Her nose wrinkled. “You smell funny.”

“Thanks, love.” I grinned. “I had to take a dip in one of Mrs. Rita’s chemical baths. But I’m fine,” I said. “Took a few cuts, so I’m going to be stuffy and feverish for a while.”

She nodded. “Want me to make you some soup?”

I wasn’t hungry. Crawling through raw sewage does that to a person. “No thanks. I think I’ll just veg in front of the TV until I heal.”

Thunder boomed again and the lights flickered. Petra grimaced. “If the power goes out while I’m cooking, I’m going to be most annoyed.” She checked the timer on the stove and then walked over to the window. “I’ve got forty-six minutes until the veal is done,” she said to the night. “Don’t you knock out my power before then, got it?”

Petra didn’t exactly follow a typical meal schedule. A snack for her can be a full five-course meal. It all depends on her mood, I guess. I told her about Axlesnapper and she said she’d make something special for Gears. I gave Petra a kiss and made my way into the living room. I flicked on the Blu-ray player and fired up Firefly. I heard Gears come in a while later, Jake must’ve dropped him off. He and Petra spoke quietly in the kitchen while I watched the show. Right around the time River Tam was revived, my eyes slid shut. I was dimly aware of Petra carrying me to the bedroom, speaking to Gears. Her tone was concerned, but I knew everything was fine. I drifted off into blackness.

The dreams were incoherent images that bounced around my mind, never really resolving into anything. After all the nightmares I’d had lately, this was a relief. Voices nearby pulled me into a groggy alertness. First, I saw the room was dim. Candles flickered on the dresser and the nightstand. Second, I was under about every blanket we owned. Petra and Gearstripper were on either side of me, and they both looked scared.

“Whassa matter?” I asked. Petra ran a thermometer across my forehead. It let out a high pitched chirp and she frowned at its display.

“Your temperature keeps going down, Vincent.” she whispered. “You’re not healing. Something’s wrong.”

“Call Mrs. Rita,” I said.

“Power failure, Vinnie,” Gears said. “I’ve tried calling Mrs. Rita’s desk number, but it goes right to voicemail. I think the power’s out at the office, too.”

“Thirsty,” I said. As one, Petra and Gears hopped off the bed and went to the kitchen. I placed a shaking hand against my head. My skin was clammy and my arm felt heavy. “This isn’t good,” I said to myself.

“No, Vincent, it’s not.” The voice came somewhere from my left. I flopped my head over and saw a tiny plastic hand reach up over the edge of the bed. A moment later, Commander Courageous pulled himself up. He stood for a moment in his “I’m a hero, dammit” pose, then climbed the mountain of blankets so he could look into my face.

“You’ve been infected with a supernatural virus, Vincent, the likes of which has never been seen on this planet before. Your healing powers can’t cope with it. You have to get to the Bright Side. Only full exposure to your followers’ faith will purge the sickness from your body. Have Lotholio perform a ritual to -”