The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) (25 page)

 

 

 

 

The old man was fast. Even with the brace on his leg, he outran them.

Diego remembered something Maxim had said about Red having a wheelchair and a bad leg. Something about him faking it. Diego hadn't considered whether that was true or not, but it was obvious Red didn't need the devices. Like the heavy pike he once held, the iron leg brace was protection against the green children, if not a sword, then perhaps a shield.

With the man half-disarmed, the ghostly fires of the forest were emboldened.

Diego's legs pumped back and forth, their dial turned to maximum. That was enough to keep Red in sight for now. Maxim followed behind, sprinting with his hand on his panama hat. It was ridiculous, and the biker would've left him behind if they didn't have trouble on their tail.

"Pick up the pace!" yelled Diego, skidding to a halt. Maxim's silhouette was a sharp outline against a white star. Diego lifted his Benelli M4 and aimed for the center of the looming mass. The steel may not have been effective against Red, but Diego knew the lights didn't like it. The second the detective whisked by him, Diego fired and continued running.

"What are those things?" screamed Maxim.

"You're asking that now?" returned the biker.

They sprinted side by side, watching helplessly as Red disappeared ahead.

"He's too fast, Diego."

The biker nodded and continued running. He was becoming increasingly worried about the two of them. They'd done their job. They'd found Hazel. Now Diego wondered whether he would live to see the girl and her mother again.

At least they'd be happy together.

The two men descended the slope of the hill. It wasn't as steep on this side but, at their speed, it was just as dangerous. They wildly swung their arms as they rapidly slid down the gravel.

A dead branch rapped Diego's face as he navigated the decline. To the far left, the terrain became much smoother, but it would be hard to cut over to it with his momentum. Even worse, a flat rock jutted up and out ahead of them, and Diego couldn't see the ground past it.

The biker instinctively pitched to the side to avoid the crevice. He turned to motion for Maxim to follow. The detective panicked and tumbled out of control towards the edge.

"Maxim!"

Diego chucked his shotgun to his off hand and reached for his friend. He snatched a handful of jacket and worked to stabilize the man, but his footing slipped as well. His waist scraped the ground and slammed against the stone.

Maxim rolled past him and over the side. Diego hugged the ledge and squeezed his grip on the jacket, unwilling to let go. The weight of the detective hurled his chest into the rock, but they skidded to a stop, Maxim hanging out of sight.

Diego's arm muscles strained at the extension. His head circled back and he squinted at the oncoming glow. The brilliance forced his gaze to shy away, and he felt the heat on his back rising.

Below, Maxim began jerking and bucking. Diego only had him with one hand—his other pressed the M4 to the ground and stabilized the awkward contortion. He couldn't lose the weapon, he realized. It might be the only defense they had.

Maxim tugged again, almost pulling Diego down.

"Stay still, Maxim."

"Would you let go already?" he shouted in a voice more irritated than afraid.

Curious, Diego slid towards the edge and peeked, lowering Maxim another foot. The detective rose to his feet and rolled his eyes at the biker. Then Maxim grabbed Diego and heaved him down.

They both landed on their hands and knees. Diego could see the large boulder towering above them, leaving a cavernous gap beneath. He immediately pulled Maxim and his shotgun underneath and pressed his back to the rock.

The detective was about to say something, but Diego put his finger to his lips. He got the message.

The unnatural shine on the hillside bobbed and swayed, leaving them in heavy shadow. Maxim tucked his legs back, and Diego followed suit.

A blinding flash forced Diego to shut his eyes. His face burned horribly and he hefted his shotgun outward to fire, but Maxim shoved it aside. Diego almost snapped before barely making out the detective with his finger on his lips. Instead, he shielded his eyes against the glare and breathed easier as the luminance dimmed.

"They want him, not us," whispered Maxim once they were alone.

It was hard to argue with the statement. Whether or not the dancing fires had seen them, they were hot on Red's trail. The tree cover below Maxim and Diego lit up, fingers of light stretching into the sky above.

They were no longer encircled by ghosts.

"Fuck it," said Diego. "I say good riddance."

"But his leg irons," mentioned the detective.

The biker nodded. "His shield."

Maxim stood and limped down the hillside again, this time pursuing the lights. "I'm not gonna let him get out of this one," he called back.

Diego shook his head and hopped to his feet. He shouldn't have expected anything less.

Back on the flat ground, it was easy to pick a direction. The lights that had been herding them were now converging with the one ahead. They all zeroed in on their target. The darkness couldn't hide Red from them.

Still, another interminable amount of time passed as they ran. The old man was giving it his all. Diego wondered if Red could escape the blazes, but then he heard the man cursing ahead.

Diego and Maxim slowed as they entered a brightly lit span of forest. The bluish-light cast a cold glow on the surroundings, creating a shifting and shimmering world. The haze instilled a dreamlike quality to the scene. Diego became lightheaded at the sight.

Red hooted and hollered in a small clearing of artificial daylight. The presences around him were so close that they melded with each other. As Red attacked them, he appeared completely mad, swiping at invisible bees. Diego knew better and wondered if fists had any power.

Maxim caught Diego's attention with a hand gesture before breaking off to flank the old man. The biker answered with nod but was unsure what the detective had planned. He'd lost his pistol back on the ridge.

"Come at me you little bastards!" cried Red, swiping at the air. His chest was soiled with blood and his red hair appeared whiter in the cold light. "If you think you can!"

Red was an enigma. Old but vigorous. Brittle but strong. There was something to fear in his calloused eyes, but he didn't look all powerful. Especially not now. Kayda had said something about a man in between life and death, feeding on the living. Powered by the children he killed. His cannibalism sustained him, then. Whatever he was. Now that it had been some time since the old man had a victim, it was possible he was weakening.

The old man flinched away from something closing in on his back, then swung his metal leg in a roundhouse. The glow flared in his face and he laughed. These actions repeated in a cycle, with Red getting a nip or two from the enemies that surrounded him, yet able to fend them off with heavy blows.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when you get the best of me!" he challenged.

Red's foot seemed to connect, if that was possible, and the clearing flashed a brilliant blue. Diego spun away. He felt the heat on his face as the fires drew away. When he could see, Red was hurrying away, and the chase was on again.

"Damn it," said Maxim, joining Diego's stride.

"They can't quite touch him," said the biker.

Maxim's face was grim. "I saw."

The men continued their pursuit. Diego tried not to talk anymore. He hated to admit it, but he was out of breath. If he couldn't change the situation soon, he'd be forced to bow out.

Before he could figure a plan, a dense fog crept onto the low ground. The air was rife with humidity again. It became more difficult to exert himself. And to see Red.

Even worse, the shadows around them grew like a plague that infected the land. Diego rubbed his eyes in disbelief as the lights dimmed, then was shocked to see them snuffed out completely.

As they ran, his vision adjusted back to the raw light of the partial moon. Within seconds, he figured out why.

The tree cover abruptly ended and Maxim and Diego flew out into an open field. A huge lane of grass cut through the wilderness from east to west. Only it wasn't grass now. The low fog hugged the ground and gave the impression they were atop a giant cloud. The only break in the smoke was a line running down the center of the wild alley like a spine—the iron train tracks that led back to Williams.

Maxim pointed to Red. He wasn't hiding in the woods anymore. He was between the iron rails, charging down the tracks.

"Old iron," exclaimed Diego.

"He's gonna make it," spat Maxim, and bolted after him. "Stay where you are, Red!" he ordered. "You're under arrest!"

Diego took a deep gulp of clean air and joined the pursuit. Along the tracks, he searched the tree lines on both sides. The lights were strangely absent. This worried Diego. If the fires weren't going to stop the old man, that meant it was up to Diego and Maxim. With buckshot and blade proving ineffective, the biker was out of ideas.

He considered Kayda's tale of a man immune to metal. The only thing that killed him was a great flood. The man had metal strapped to his leg. He could sure as hell run, but could he swim?

The three men raced along the tracks. The only good news was that Red appeared to be limping. Diego couldn't tell if the man was hurt or if the wooden railroad ties proved difficult to navigate, but he was slowed either way. They at least managed to keep up with the old timer.

Still, at this pace, Red might make it to Williams. What would a monster like him do out in the open, with so many easy targets around?

They pressed forward and Diego could feel his lungs giving out. Maxim didn't look too hot either. They were so close to the old man, with no obstructions between him and them. Diego took a chance. He came to a stop and fired a blast towards Red. He didn't see a reaction, and then Maxim entered his line of sight. Diego jogged hard to keep up, knowing he wasn't going to make it.

In the distance, past Maxim, past Red, and further than any of them could make out, a sharp, single light cut through the fog. The old man slowed his stride and checked the trees.

"Impossible!"

Maxim pressed harder. Red noticed and stomped onward.

Diego kept running too, but he was getting lightheaded again. He could swear he felt a rumbling in his chest. His leg muscles began to tremble as they threatened to go on strike.

The sharp effulgence ahead flowed closer. Red charged right ahead, yelling obscenities, daring to be confronted again. Diego spun around, expecting to see themselves surrounded again, but nothing was out there. The woods were quiet and cold and dark.

Up ahead, the old man suddenly collapsed.

"Red," yelled Maxim. "Stop where you are!"

The two men rushed toward the downed man. And the light. The vibration in the ground continued. Diego realized what was happening.

A loud horn screamed over the wind, a sound that was made by man, not spirit. Ahead, the spotlight rushed straight towards them, warning them out of its path. The iron horse would not stop easily, and it was almost on top of them.

"Maxim," he yelled. "It's a train."

His friend glanced backwards as Diego pulled off the tracks. Maxim did a double-take before understanding, and he hopped away himself.

Red was a different matter. He understood the situation. At least, Diego thought he did. But he was stuck on his knees, yanking his leg away from the wood. His leg brace had caught on the tracks, and he was frantically trying to correct the predicament.

Maxim moved towards Red.

"You can't get to him in time," said Diego, tugging his friend back.

"The hell I can't."

"You can't do it! We need to move away. If that thing derails then who knows which way it'll careen."

The detective paused and turned to him. "Can a little leg brace derail a whole train?"

Diego simply shrugged and retreated from the tracks. The horn blared again, this time on and off with a lazy urgency. Brakes squealed to life and sparks shot out like fireworks and bounced in the fog, looking like a thousand dying fireflies. The rumbling roared over their voices and they covered their ears.

Red tugged at his leg, stood to face his judgment, and cursed so loud that Diego could hear him above the onslaught of sound. Then the iron train slammed into him.

The abrasive scraping against the tracks sped past them, slowing but still carrying a monster's momentum. Diego saw Maxim wince but wondered if his face showed any reaction at all. He certainly didn't feel anything for the man.

Since it was apparent the train would not skip off the tracks, they moved closer and watched the juggernaut finally come to a halt.

"How's that for old iron?" asked Maxim.

Diego shook his head. "Iron. Steel. He said no metal could hurt him." The biker hurried to Red's position under the train.

"Come on. No one can survive that."

Diego didn't answer. He ducked under the train car where Red had been. Half a twisted leg brace stuck out from the wheel. A red sheen of fresh blood spattered the metal. On the other side of the train was the other half of the brace.

Diego tried to pass under the train but it was too low. He backed up and followed Maxim between the train cars.

"Shit," said the detective.

Diego emerged and saw the other piece of metal and the rest of the blood. It was exactly what he would have expected, sans the actual body.

"No way," uttered the detective.

A quick motion caught his eye at the northern tree line. Red peered back at them, limping, awash in his own blood. His face contorted as he saw them. The old man's grin twisted into something evil, and his long, spindly arms braced against the tree trunks. He shoved himself inward and vanished into the brush.