Ronin (The Pike Chronicles Book 3) (17 page)

Jon’s head snapped left, right, up, down, searching for the Juttari. He found nothing. But he knew it was out there. Hunting.

His father saw his distress and said, “Don’t worry, son. No bloody Juttari will be sneaking up on us today. But we need to keep moving. You see what can happen when you fall behind.”

Jon nodded, but found no solace. His cousins too stared at the butchered humans behind them. Their faces grim.

“A Juttari can do that?” said Michael.

“Yeah,” said Jon’s father. “They like to kill with their claws. Something to do with their damn religion.”

“One Juttari killed all these men with its claws?” said Michael.

“Probably. Maybe two. But they like to hunt alone.”

Jon wondered how his father knew so much about the Juttari. They had conquered Earth, but for centuries they had left most of the work on Earth to the Chaanisar. Nobody really knew much about the Juttari. Just a bunch of conflicting stories. How did his father came to know so much about the Juttari?

“Fuck this,” said Jason. “I’m not going to stand around and let some alien hunt me.” He turned and headed off after the Diakans. The rest followed.

“Another reason why we need those Diakan suits,” said Michael. “I bet the Juttari can’t get their claws through that armor.”

“They use weapons against armor,” said Jon’s father. “The Juttari are just as advanced as the Diakans. Like I said, all this hunting bullshit has to do with religion.”

“What does killing with claws have to do with religion?” said Jon.

“From what I understand their religion is extremely old. It goes way back to the days when they actually hunted and fought with their claws. When they proved themselves worthy.”

“So they do this to show their worth to their god?”

“That’s right. Their religion tells them it’s their divine duty to conquer the universe. This shit is their way of proving themselves still worthy of that duty.”

“That’s really fucked up,” said Michael.

The Diakans weren’t hard to catch up to. They were nothing if not cautious. Diakans didn’t like to take risks. Of course, they didn’t mind risking human life, but humans were expendable. A lesser species. The Diakans were lucky they hadn’t been conquered, thought Jon, because their cautiousness would ensure they stayed slaves forever.

They steadily advanced down another long corridor. Jon stayed close to the wall, but couldn’t stop himself from looking behind him regularly. Sporadic gunfire could be heard all around them. How many Diakans and humans were in the building? Surely they were flooding in by now. The Juttari and Chaanisar hiding inside were finished. The only question was how long it would take. They must know it themselves, he thought. That made them more dangerous than ever. They had nothing to lose. If they were going to die they would be taking as many with them as possible.

The Diakans approached an intersection of corridors. They cautiously checked the adjacent hallway and were greeted by weapon fire from both ends. A crossfire. The Diakans fell back. As they dithered about what to do next, a Chaanisar threw a grenade like object at them. AS it hit the ground one of the Diakans threw himself on top of the object. The bomb exploded. Launching the Diakan through the air. The nearby Diakans were also tossed aside by the force of the blast, landing on their backs. The armor hadn’t protected the Diakan who fell on the bomb. Jon was sure he was dead. The other Diakans slowly began to rise. The Chaanisar surged forward.

Still disoriented by the grenade attack, the Diakans were slow to respond. The Chaanisar energy bolts plowed into them. A furious amount of fire drilled through the Diakan armor.

Jon lined up the lead Chaanisar and opened fire. He scored several direct hits before the Chaanisar took cover. A savage firefight ensued. The remaining Diakans tried to hold on, but they had just lost five of their men to the grenade attack. Jon could see they were outnumbered by the rate of return fire. The Diakans, however, weren’t giving an inch.

Jon saw a Chaanisar pop his head out. He pulled the trigger, but the Chaanisar was back behind the wall before his energy bolt could find its mark. He showed himself again and Jon squeezed off another bolt. He missed.
Goddamn they’re fast
, he thought. He had to change tactics. He aimed for the empty spot and fired, without a real target. As if on cue, the Chaanisar appeared. The bolt crashed into the Chaanisar armor, surprising him before he ducked back behind the wall.

A Diakan lunged forward and threw a grenade at the Chaanisar positions. He was met by a crossfire of energy bolts. The Diakan tried to get out of the line of fire, but the onslaught overwhelmed him. The grenade exploded, and Jon felt the floor shudder from the concussion. He couldn’t know how many Chaanisar it took down, but hoped it got them all. His question was soon answered. Another Diakan jumped into the crossfire and threw a grenade at the opposite Chaanisar position. The crossfire cut him down, but his grenade detonated, likely taking out several Chaanisar.

“Looks like the Diakans have balls after all,” said Jason.

“Who knew?” said Jon, impressed by the Diakan suicide attacks.

“Don’t be fooled by their cautious nature,” said Jon’s father. “They can be fierce fighters when they need to be.”

To Jon’s surprise, two more Diakans jumped out, throwing grenades at the Chaanisar positions. A Chaanisar surged forward launching his own grenade toward the remaining Diakans. A Diakan dove on the Chaanisar grenade as it and the other grenades exploded. Thrown to the ground, the remaining Diakans struggled to get up. Two Chaanisar soldiers appeared and opened fire on the prone Diakans. Jon and his group targeted the Chaanisar and scored multiple hits. The Chaanisar armor, obviously weakened by the grenade attacks, didn’t take much energy fire. The Chaanisar didn’t drop before killing the remaining Diakans, however.

“Hold your fire,” said Jon’s father.

An eerie quiet set in.

“Are they dead?” asked Jon, expecting Chaanisar to come around the corner any second.

“I don’t know,” said his father. “We’ll have to take a look.”

“I was hoping you weren’t going to say that,” said Jason.

“Come on,” said Jon’s father, and he cautiously stepped forward.

Jon raised his forearm to wipe his brow. “Is it just me, or is it really warm in here?” he asked.

“It’s warm” said Jason. “I’m sweating like a fucking pig.”

“Do pigs sweat?” said Michael.

“You look pretty sweaty to me,” said Jason.

They reached the corner and his father held up a fist, telling them to stop. He peered around the corner and exhaled.

“All clear,” he said, and waved the group forward.

“Goddamn,” said Jason, turning the corner.

Jon came around and saw a corridor full of dead Chaanisar.

Michael moved in for a closer inspection. He stepped over the bodies, pointing his weapon at each one.

“Be careful,” said Jon’s father. “Some of them might still be alive.”

“Don’t worry,” said Michael. “If any of them so much as twitches I’ll toast them.”

“They’re fast,” said Jason. “Get back here and stop playing the damn hero.”

“Relax brother,” said Michael. “They all look pretty dead to me.”

“Okay, come back so we can figure out what’s next,” said Jon’s father.

Michael turned to face them and said, “I think we should-”

A fountain of blood spewed forth several feet from the artery in Michael’s neck. Dark green fingers dug their long claws deep into his throat.

Juttari claws.

Michael’s eyes were wide with surprise, his hands struggling to pry himself free from the alien grip. From behind Michael’s head intelligent, cat-like eyes stared straight at Jon. He pointed his weapon but couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting his cousin. The creature cocked its head at Jon, eyeing him curiously. Michael’s legs kicked out violently, but to no avail.

“Let him go you fuck,” said Jason, charging the Juttari.

“No!” yelled Jon’s father. “Don’t!”

But Jason was too consumed with rage to listen. The Juttari looked at Jason and yanked its hand from Michael’s throat. He threw the torn out windpipe at Jason, as if to show him its handiwork. Michael crumpled to his knees, black blood now gushing from his savaged throat. Jason fired as the Juttari leaped toward him, taking him to the ground. Jason landed on his back with the Juttari straddling his chest. Its claws viciously tearing at his neck and face with terrifying speed.

Jon and his father fired. They both scored direct hits but the energy bolts only seemed to anger it. The creature looked up with narrowed eyes. It screeched as Jon shot it square in the face. Jon’s repeated firing forcing it off Jason. The Juttari sprang away down the hall, scaling the walls with incredible agility until it disappeared into the darkness.

They raced to help Jason. His face had literally been torn off. His throat, like Michael’s, had been ripped out. Jon’s weapon shook in his hand. His two cousins, who had always been more like older brothers, were dead.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and his father said, “We need to keep moving, son.”

“What?” said Jon, still staring at the bloody pulp that used to be Jason’s face.

“We need to go.”

“Where?”

“Back the way we came.”

Jon turned to meet his father’s gaze. “What about the Juttari? Are we just going to let it get away?”

“It’s not going anywhere. Believe me. It’ll be dead before this battle is done.”

“We need to kill it.”

“No, son. We need to fall back before it kills us.”

Jon stared down the hallway in the direction the Juttari escaped. Wasn’t it still back there? Hiding? Watching? He raised his weapon and stared down its sight at the corridor. No movement.

“Come on,” said his father.

Jon scanned the corridor one last time and said, “Okay.” He turned and followed his father back the way they came. He knew his father was right. The smart thing to do was find reinforcements. Then they could hunt down and kill the Juttari.

They stepped over the Chaanisar and Diakan bodies and backtracked down the corridor until they eventually reached the humans that had joined them. Their eviscerated bodies were scattered on the floor, intestines stretched out in front of them like endless gray rope. Their faces twisted in permanent agony.

Jon’s stomach flipped as a savage shriek filled the hallway behind him.

“We have to make a stand,” said Jon’s father. “We can’t run. It’ll just cut us down from behind.”

“Make a stand?” Jon said, struggling to keep control of his emotions. Fighting the panic. “Look at what that thing did to these men. To Michael and Jason.”

“We have no choice,” his father said, in an even tone. “We hurt it back there, especially when you shot it in the face.”

“Why isn’t it dead?” said Jon, aiming his weapon at the corridor, scanning for signs of movement.

“It must have some type of protection. Not armor, like the Diakans. Something else. We just can’t see it.”

“Maybe it’s weak around the head?”

“Could be. We should try and aim for its head. Either way, even those Diakan suits can fail with enough punishment. The Juttari shouldn’t be much different.”

How many shots will it give us? thought Jon. He remembered how it seized Michael by the throat. Where had it come from? They hadn’t seen a thing.

Another shriek. Closer this time. He still couldn’t see anything. Why was it making all that noise? Jon wondered. Wouldn’t it rather sneak up on them?

“There it is,” shouted his father, and opened fire toward the ceiling.

Jon caught the movement and pulled the trigger. The Juttari scurried from the ceiling onto the wall. It climbed like a squirrel, using its claws for traction. Even on the ceiling, it moved incredibly fast. Jon had a tough time adjusting his fire, but managed to adapt. His father had already scored several hits on the thing’s torso, but hadn’t slowed it down. The head must be the key.

His weapon blazed blue lightning but the head shot evaded him. It was almost on top of them before Jon hit his target. The Juttari dropped from the ceiling to the floor, stunned. Jon fired again, but the creature jumped out of the way. Its cat-eyes were on him now. It charged. Jon fired frantically. It crashed into him, knocking the energy weapon from his hands and slashing him across the face with one of its claws.

Jon fell back, stunned and momentarily blinded. The monster smashed into him again and he fell to the floor. His face burned and he brought his arms up to protect it.

“Get off my son you filthy bastard,” his father roared.

Jon felt the creature fall off of him and opened an eye to see blue energy bolts crashing into the beast. The creature shrieked and flung itself onto his father. They hit the ground hard.

I have to help him
, Jon thought, forcing himself up. Blood streamed into his eyes, blurring his vision, but he could still make out the Juttari. It was on top of his father. He didn’t know where his energy weapon was and had no time to search for it. So he lunged for the Juttari and drew the only weapons he had left. His knives.

Landing on the creature’s back he attacked it with the ferocity of a rabid wolf. His blades came down repeatedly on the thing’s face. His arms moved like pistons. At first Jon felt resistance, like he was trying to pierce a metal plate. But with each thrust the resistance dissipated until he began to feel the soft flesh underneath. There was another deafening shriek and the Juttari threw Jon off its back.

Jon hit the floor and rolled, getting back onto his feet in one fluid motion. The creature too had left his father and stood facing Jon. It stared back at him with malevolence, but with only one eye. The other eye was a mangled mess. The injury gave Jon a surge of confidence.

He tightened his grip on his blades and bent his knees, readying himself for combat. “Get ready to meet your god, you fuck,” Jon hissed.

The Juttari let out a low, guttural growl and sprang at Jon.

Jon knew he couldn’t rely on his sight. His vision was blurred, and the Juttari moved too fast. If he simply watched for the strike he had no doubt he’d be dead. He would fight the way his mother taught him, using sensitivity rather than sight. He closed his eyes. Felt the attack. And let his arms think for themselves.

His hand shot out and he felt his blade make contact, parrying the strike. The other blade moved deflecting a second set of claws. The Juttari unleashed a flurry. Jon fell backwards, but his arms like windmills successfully defended against each slash.

His defense might have confused the creature because there was a slight pause in its melee. It was only a fraction of a second, but Jon’s arms were moving at full speed, defending, yet at the same time probing for weakness. That fraction of a second pause felt like a glaring hole in the Juttari’s defense.

His hands initiated a fierce counter attack. The Juttari responded weakly. It blocked the first few attempts, but it had lost momentum. Jon wondered if it ever had to actually defend itself in a hand to hand encounter. He stabbed at its face. It blocked. Jon hooked its arm with his other blade and pulled it down, freeing his attacking arm. He stabbed again. It blocked with its other arm, but Jon was now a step ahead. His attacking arm switched to defense, yanking its blocking arm down, and simultaneously thrusting up with his other knife.

The point made contact under the Juttari chin and slid easily into flesh. He plunged it home, slicing up through the Juttari mouth. He held the handle firmly, pinning the beast’s head in place. His other knife gashed furiously at its face. The strange Juttari scream muffled as blood sprayed out from its wounds. It struck at Jon’s arms with its claws. Jon was so focused on his kill that the wounds went unnoticed. The Juttari fell backward, taking Jon fell with it, his blade now sinking deeper into its skull with each thrust.

Its arms went limp. Jon couldn’t stop. He unleashed a lifetime of fury into its green face. He stabbed for his parents. For his cousins. For the stolen children. For the Earth.

“Stop,” said his father, his voice little more than a whisper. “It’s dead.”

His father lived. Jon looked down at his blood soaked hands then at the mutilated Juttari skull. He contained the bile in his throat, and crawled over to his father, who lay prone. Jon could see several lacerations, but just one that worried him. A deep slash across his father’s abdomen that oozed blood. He quickly removed his shirt and pushed it against the wound.

“Are you okay?” his father said, looking up at him.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You look like shit.”

“You want me to get you a mirror?”

His father tried to laugh, but coughed instead.

“Just take it easy,” said Jon.

The sound of heavy boots reverberated down the hallway, coming toward them. Closer now, Jon grabbed his father’s hands and pressed them onto his wound. “Hold this. Someone’s coming.”

He searched the corridor for a weapon. He pulled one out from under a dead fighter and pointed. A group of Diakans appeared and relief washed over him as he lowered his weapon. He walked up to the lead Diakan.

“Please, we need help,” Jon pleaded. “My father’s been badly injured.”

The Diakan glanced at him, then down at his father and at the dead Juttari. He walked past without a word. Jon was stunned. He ran forward and stood in front of the Diakan.

“Do you understand me? We need your help.”

The Diakan pushed him aside, the armored strength surprising Jon. Jon stumbled sideways several steps before regaining his balance.

Jon lunged forward and grasped the metal arm. “Please, you have to help us,” he begged.

The Diakan spun around striking with a powerful armored glove.

Jon’s head snapped back and the lights went out.