Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone (40 page)

Good,
Lincoln thought.
Now I won’t have to worry about them getting hurt.

Because
the
Powerhouse already had his wind back, and he was pissed!

The creature had looked away from Lincoln toward the fleeing crowds, and by the time it turned its fat, no-neck head back, he was on his feet. While it was hard to tell for sure with that ugly face, he thought he saw surprise in its eye-orbs.

“Care to try that again, you son of a bitch?!”

Lincoln dove forward, getting inside its squatty reach and slamming his forearm into its torso-ish area. Given how hard it had struck him, he felt safe presuming that it could take as much as it put out, so he didn’t hold back.

Let’s see how
you
like it!

The creature squalled, its eye-orbs bulging even further. Its massive body left the ground and didn’t touch down again until it collided with a parked pickup truck a dozen yards away.

A few of those running from the scene looked back at the noise and some cheered him on, but they did so from a safer distance now.

Lincoln was happy that they were keeping clear, because his hope that the creature might sigh and drop unconscious went unfulfilled. The creature twisted and, again defying its mass, its body spiraled around until it settled lightly on its webbed feet. It blustered more of its thick language at him, but besides catching a tone of outrage, he didn’t bother trying to make sense of it anymore. This thing was dangerous and he was going to put it down.

He moved in on the creature, aware of its surprising legerity but determined to land another blow right away. The creature’s lips sprayed more saliva, tucked inward for a split-second, then sprayed again with more force — but this time, it wasn’t just spit. The thicker, pink-ish secretion splattered across Lincoln’s chest, and it burned! The foul, acidic sputum hissed and fumed, eating through his new shirt and stinging like hell.

Swiping the stuff away with the side of his hand and ripping away the remains of his ruined shirt, Lincoln snarled, “If that’s all you got, asshole, you’re in trouble.”

Again moving faster than would seem possible, the creature tried the same undulating chest-ram, but Lincoln was ready for it this time. He ducked to his right and backhanded the creature across the face, which again sent it crashing to the ground (this time, thankfully, without vehicular collateral damage).

But the creature got up even faster than before, spewing more acid at him as he dashed toward it. Lincoln ducked, and most of the sputum passed over him, only a few biting drops sprinkling onto his back. Before he could recover his balance, the creature swatted him on top of the head, really ringing his bell as he skidded onto his hands and knees.

Get up! Get up, quick!

He settled for throwing himself to one side, which was fortunate — the creature’s feet came down right where he’d been, cracking the pavement as if it had dropped from a skyscraper.

Lincoln regained his footing in time to see three V9 charges strike the creature across its flabby chest. Unable to penetrate its hide, they fell to the ground, impotent. Lincoln didn’t know where Pendler had fired from, but he was grateful his norm partner was keeping his head down.

“Pendler!” he yelled as he circled the creature, one fist cocked and ready, waiting for an opening. “Stay under cover! This thing is too tough! Call for backup!” But who could they get to help with
this
? Canine? Density? Ooze? Who would be able to—?

The creature spat acid at him again. Lincoln jumped backward, avoiding the attack, and bent his legs, preparing to leap across the gap between them and smash his fist through the thing’s ample teeth.

“Lincoln!” Pendler cried. “The ship!”

Lincoln risked a quick glance up and over his shoulder. Within the portal of the ship, two more shadowy figures were moving through the mist. Neither, he noted in that brief glimpse, were built like this ugly space-walrus, but he had to assume they wouldn’t have any better intentions. He needed to finish this first one, fast, so that he could deal with the newcomers.

Lincoln really had only looked away for one second, but when he turned back, he found the creature stretching as tall and straight as its physique would allow. He thought maybe it was about to topple against him like a sumo wrestler, and he prepared to meet the challenge. His fist was still cocked, and if he hit it just right, he might be able to send the damned thing into orbit — why not put this ever-growing strength of his to full use for a change?

But the creature didn’t tumble onto him. It spread its stumpy arms wide, angled them forward, and slapped them downward. Was this a show of frustration or ...?

Lincoln’s limbs — no, his entire body — suddenly felt extremely heavy. His head wanted to bow forward, his cocked arm wanted to sag, his lungs struggled for their next breath. He was dragged toward the ground, as though his body weighed thousands upon thousands of pounds!

Jesus Christ! Strong, tough, acid spit, now this — how many different powers does this damn thing have?!

Lincoln was forced down to one knee again; he had to drop his ready arm and brace himself to keep from going all the way to his stomach. Everything hurt — his skin was bruising under its own weight. He tried to say something, to repeat his warning for Pendler to keep his distance, but he didn’t have the breath to spare. He felt so incredibly heavy!

He heard a raised voice from above, this one very buzzy to his ears. As before, he couldn’t understand it, but it sounded like it was asking a question.
Do you need help?
, maybe.

The creature before him sputtered again (just spittle this time), then shouted a reply, and its tone, Lincoln believed, was one of dismissal. Something like,
No, I’ve got this loser beaten
.

Lincoln had no way of knowing if his impressions were correct, but it didn’t really matter — it still pissed him off all over again, and that was exactly what he needed!

Grimacing, he forced through his clenched jaw, “Oh ... you think so ... huh?”

Straining with all his might, Lincoln shoved upward. With a barely-suppressed groan, followed by a willfully-released growl, he rose to his full height, forcing his muscles to straighten under threat of hernia. By God, he was
not
giving in to this thing!

And, to his tremendous satisfaction, this time the creature’s eye-orbs boggled in an expression of disbelief — alien face or no, the emotion was undeniable. Lincoln’s rising under this attack left the creature replete with shock, and fear.

Impelling his resistance to even greater heights, Lincoln took a shuffling step forward. “Now ...” he squeezed through grinding teeth, “... if I were you, asshole—”

With a truncated rumble of protest, the pavement collapsed under Lincoln’s feet. He managed to spread his arms in an effort to catch himself, but all he accomplished was widening the hole his body created as the asphalt succumbed to his now-unbearable weight. He passed through the base and subbase layers before striking steel piping of some kind, but that, too, gave way. He hit rancid open air for a moment before splashing into reeking water, and here he finally stopped, but not without embedding a curvature beneath and around his body like a meteor crater.

For a moment, he could only lie still and collect his rattled bearings. The foul water, probably runoff or even sewage, flowed into the crater with him, but his ass was low enough and his head blessedly high enough that he was not submerged.

“Lincoln ...?!” echoed from above.

Pendler!
What the hell did he think he was doing?! Sucking in a painful (and repulsive) breath, he yelled back, “I’m okay! Stay back!”

“Linc ...!” Pendler called, including more than just his name but, beyond that first syllable, Lincoln couldn’t understand any of it.

Lincoln struggled to sit forward, but he only succeeded in pulverizing one edge of the crater, sending grime and sludge splashing all over.

A
Pop!
sounded from above. What was that? Lincoln wasn’t sure, but he thought his partner might’ve just set off a smoke grenade — he could never keep track of all the crap the norm agents carried in their trench coats. Why didn’t the idiot just retreat like Lincoln had ordered?!

Another attempt to sit up; another failure.

“Pendler?!” he called again. Maybe
he
 could call for help? But no, he’d left his phone with Shining Star as they departed Montana in a hurry.

“Lincoln!” he heard Pendler yell. No, that hadn’t been a yell — Pendler had cried out!

“Pendler! Get the hell out of here!”

“No ... leave you ...!”

Pendler, you dumb son of a bitch! Of all the times to decide to be brave!

Lincoln threw himself into yet another effort to get up. He managed to curl his body forward, performing a painful crunch in the process, but neither his hands nor feet could gain any purchase — the crater around him just kept crumbling. Finally, his back and abs gave out, and he collapsed into his puddle of filth once more.

“Pendler!” he cried. “Get
out
of here, goddamn it! Call Vortex! Call Taka—!”

Pendler screamed. A horrible, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping scream of terror and agony ... until, with a painful retch, it ended.

“Pendler?!”

Lincoln floundered, desperate to get up.

“
Pendler?!
” he roared, tears of fright and frustration flowing into the material of his mask. “Answer me, goddamn it!”

Nothing.

“
GREG!
”

But Ensign Gregory Pendler never answered.

POWERHOUSE AND SHOCKWAVE

The department store’s parking lot was a different kind of madhouse now. Instead of civilians, the odd security guards, and police officers running around in panic and near-panic, this crowd consisted of PCA field agents, emergency response teams, firemen, additional police staff, and one SWAT unit. Beyond that, a perimeter of eager journalists and photographers circled like sharks drawn by blood in the water. And the outermost ring belonged to the ardent gawkers, some of whom had been present during the big fight earlier and were more than pleased to share their eyewitness accounts with the reporters in exchange for a closer view of the action, such as it was.

The veiled ship was gone, but the damage to the rooftop remained. The roof was crawling with PCA and FBI agents, each group vying for priority over any unique evidence they might find.

Like the aliens might’ve accidentally taken off without their space-weapons or something equally valuable. Give me a break.

Perched on the back bumper of a paramedic vehicle, Lincoln let his head drop — he knew there was nothing to see, and his neck was killing him. Hell, his whole body was killing him, every muscle aching like he hadn’t felt in over a year. Truth be told, until the past few days, he’d almost forgotten what real pain felt like, but unlike the fight with Shockwave or the brief scuffle with Shining Star, this pain was lasting. He felt like he had strained his ... his
everything
trying to get out of that crater.

Not that it mattered.

He glanced to his left, to the covered remains of his partner. Pendler was still lying on the ground where he had died because the authorities were debating the best way to move him without creating an unsightly mess.

He looked back to the ground between his feet, huddling deeper within the blanket someone had placed around his shoulders; the blanket provided nothing for him in the way of warmth, but he drew some primal comfort from it anyway. Someone had also given him a Styrofoam cup of coffee, but it cooled, untouched, in his hand — he feared that if he put anything in his stomach at this point, he would just vomit it back up.

“Okay, I appreciate the whole ‘how the mighty have fallen’ bit ...”

Lincoln looked to his right. A few yards away, Shockwave was standing over the hole in the parking lot Lincoln had created when he plummeted through the pavement; he was peering into the wet darkness below.

“... but damn, boy, you didn’t have to do it so literally.”

Lincoln’s gaze fell back to the ground. “Go away, Mark.”

Instead, Shockwave sauntered closer. “You know, the story’s spreadin’ out there pretty fast.” He tossed a vague gesture toward the thick knot of journalists. “Sounds like there’s a lotta ‘shock and awe’ about how the great Powerhouse didn’t save the day this time. I think your perfect media image got a little shit on it tonight. But you know what surprises me?”

He replied in a flat tone, “What?”

Reaching his side, Shockwave sat down next to him on the bumper. “You just got your ass handed to ya, right? In pretty spectacular fashion, too. That’s how
those
dumbasses’ll make it sound, anyway,” he tossed another thumb at the journalists, and this time the gesture came across a little bitter, “if they think it’ll sell more papers or get ‘em more hits on their websites. Now ... you’d think I’d be happy
about that, you know? You’d think I’d like
this turn of events. But you know what ...?”

Lincoln glanced up to see Mark’s face awash with genuine surprise.

“I’m
not
happy. And I
don’t
like it. Not one bit. How about that?” He considered this a moment longer. “Huh. Maybe I’m not such an asshole after all ...”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Mark blinked and gaped at Lincoln, then burst out laughing. Lincoln joined him as far as a crooked grin, but that was all he could muster. For that matter, Mark also tapered down in fairly short order, and the next thing they knew, they were both staring at Pendler’s covered body.

When Mark spoke again, his tone was completely serious. He pointed at the hole in the pavement. “What happened?”

“I think the creature I fought could manipulate gravity. Make itself lighter, me heavier.”

“When Shining Star was warnin’ us about these things that the bounty hunter dragged our way, he said somethin’ about gravity control.  His people’ve only got rumors, really, but he did mention that.”