"Yes!" he shouted at Hunter. "Let's get outta here!"
Rip poked a button and a chronal displacement wave swept both him and Booster away, leaving Skeets alone in the vandalized Fortress. The hovering robot consumed the last of the Phantom Zone energy and latched onto the wave before it could fade away entirely.
“OH, ND, NO. YOU DON’T GET AWAY THAT EASILY.”
He blinked out of existence.
WEEK 38
NEPAL.
The bumpy ride jolted her bones, over and over again.
Renee crouched in the back of a grimy army-surplus truck that looked like something out of an old M*A*S*H episode. A flapping canvas cover provided only partial protection from the blowing snow and wind outside the truck. An overstuffed rucksack sat at her feet. A chilly gust blew a dusting of icy white flakes through a gap in the canvas. She shivered beneath her down jacket and heavy winter clothing.
"AIEEEEE!" ,
Propped up beside her, Vic screamed in agony. His wasted body had practically disappeared beneath his snow gear. His limbs jerked spasmodically. Gloved hands groped at his head and torso, as though trying to rip out the cancer with his bare hands. Renee held onto him tightly, restraining him.
Time for another shot, she decided. She tugged his jacket down on one side, enough to expose a patch of skin. She kept one arm wrapped around him as she injected another dose of morphine into his veins.
"Aangg ghnn hurts," he mumbled incoherently. "Nhnnn hnnnn."
"I know, Charlie." She withdrew the syringe. "I know it does."
Vic slumped against her as he escaped back into a narcotic haze. She took a quick inventory of the syringes remaining in the scuffed metal case. Frowning, she saw that she was running low on the morphine. Would her meager supply last until they reached their destination? It has to, she thought. For Charlie's sake.
Worried muttering came from the opposite side of the truck bed, where a trio of local Sherpas eyed her and Vic apprehensively. Renee had no idea what the men were saying, but she couldn't blame them for giving her and Vic funny looks. She imagined that they presented a pretty unnerving spectacle: a screaming foreigner, who looked like he already had one foot in the grave, and a crazed-looking woman with a pack full of drugs. Not exactly the most reassuring of traveling companions.
"Do any of you know the way to Nanda Parbat?" The wary locals gave no sign of comprehending her. "Do any of you speak English?"
She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in frustration. Vic was dying, dammit, and this was her last chance to save him ... if she could just get him back to the hidden valley in time.
But that was proving easier said than done.
Retrieving a crumpled map from her pack, she spread it out on the floor of the truck bed. A compass dangled on a cord around her neck and she pulled it out into the open. "Please," she entreated the other passengers. "We're going to Nanda Parbat. It's okay. They know us there." She pointed urgently at the map. "But I don't know exactly what trail to take." She held out the compass. "I could use some help, some directions...."
The men drew back from her, refusing to meet her eyes.
"It's important. I have to get my friend there. To Nanda Parbat."
Only the howling wind responded to her pleas.
I'm on my own, she realized.
The road tilted sharply beneath the truck as it carried her uphill into the Himalayas. Peering out through a gap in the canvas, Renee gulped at the sight of the impossibly high mountains looming ahead of them. Ominous black storm clouds concealed the tops of the peaks from view. For a second, her nerve faltered. Jesus Christ, was she really planning to haul him all the way up there? Maybe Kate had been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
No, she told herself. I'm not crazy. She glanced down at Vic's slumbering form. Even doped up, he grimaced in pain. The bones of his face showed through his skin. He'd lost so much weight he looked like a concentration camp victim. I can save him. I know I can.
Even if she had to drag him to the top of the world.
OOLONG ISLAND.
"The Revelation of Apokalips, Book Ten, Chapter Eleven."
Bruno Mannheim held the Crime Bible open before him as he recited from the profane text. The looming exterior of the island's primary manufacturing facility provided a fitting backdrop for his sermon. Blinding flashes of electricity lit up the factory's barred windows. Glowing plasma gushed from towering black smokestacks. Lightning streaked the night sky. Thunder added booming exclamation points to Mannheim's stentorian reading:
"There were Four Ages of Apokalips in Its anguished, bloody morning."
Dr. Sivana and his fellow scientists were gathered on the beach in front of the factory, eagerly awaiting the unveiling of the Four Horsemen. Miscellaneous aides, igors, thugs, and fem-droids filled out the crowd. The threat of an imminent tropical downpour failed to dampen the audience's enthusiasm and impatience. "Thrilling, isn't it?" Sivana commented to T.O. Morrow. He held out a fresh bag of microwave popcorn that he had nuked just for the occasion. "Not that I believe any of this irrationalist nonsense." Apokalips, he knew, was a distant planet ruled by a malevolent alien overlord, but Sivana figured that, from a strictly scientific perspective, extraterrestrial myths were no more reliable than the Earthly variety. He flashed a buck-toothed grin at Morrow. "But Boss Mannheim has such a wonderful reading voice."
"The Age of Hunger," the ganglord proclaimed, "ruled by Yurrd the Unknown, in the formless time before time ..."
The wide front doors of the factory creaked open, spilling an incarnadine glow onto the scene outside. The expectant faces of the congregation were bathed in an unholy crimson radiance. A trio of gargantuan figures emerged from the depths of the factory, stepping'out into the night. Hunchbacks in HazMat suits prodded the towering creatures on. The open doors offered a peek at the gruesome scene behind the Horsemen. Mutilated cattle were strewn across the floor of the factory. Bovine blood splattered the walls. A rush of hot air carried the stench of the slaughterhouse. A pallid technician gagged at the odor. Looks like we missed feeding time, Sivana thought. He munched happily on his popcorn.
"The Age of War, when Roggra sat on a throne of skulls and rivers ran hot and red with blood ..."
As huge as a tank, the Horseman in question led the pack. He gripped the door frame as he hauled his mechanized bulk out into the open. Cannons and gun turrets bristled all over his riveted crimson armor. Targeting lasers protruded from metallic hatches on his body. A pair of glowing yellow lenses peered from his burnished red helmet, above his jointed metal jaws. His head was sunk low between his massive shoulders. Gears clanked and servomotors hummed as he scuttled forward, armed and armored to the max. The blazing lenses glared out at the world with unremitting hostility.
"Lord of the Age of Fevers was Zorrm...."
Plague tanks bulged upon the creature's back. Winding metal pipes connected the tanks to nozzles in Zorrm's hose-cannons, capable of spraying defoliant, contagion, and corrosion. More humanoid than Roggra, he wore a black leather uniform covered by a network of flexible pipes and valves. A single red eye bulged in the center of his grotesque visage. Throbbing veins pulsated atop a hairless cranium. Breathing tubes were fused directly to his jaws. Toxic waste sloshed loudly with every ponderous step; Sivana thought he recognized elements of Chemo in the monster's design. That would be Dr. Death's contribution, he guessed. Ivan does love his poisons. ’
Zorrm's very presence gave Sivana a queasy feeling. He sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his lab coat. Looking around, he saw that the rest of the audience was looking a bit green around the gills as well. A weakling of a lab assistant vomited onto his shoes. Apparently, the "Lord of Fevers" was already living up to his name. Atta boy! Sivana thought proudly. He took his sudden nausea and swollen glands as evidence of a successful experiment. Zorrm was functioning perfectly.
"Then came Azraeuz, silent king of the Age of Death, who rode a pale steed across a desert of ash and bone at the bl
ack dawn of the Fourth World."
More bestial than humanoid, the final creature carried a gigantic scythe that glowed with lethal energies. The horns and skull of some enormous steer masked his face. Black feathered wings jutted from his shoulder blades. A long, leathery tail dragged behind him. Shaggy legs, complete with cloven hooves, supported the giant monster's weight. A dying rose was engraved upon his bronze breastplate. Sivana wondered if the lovely Veronica Cale was responsible for that embellishment. It had a woman's touch....
Azraeuz limped haltingly, as though suffering from multiple sclerosis. Like his inhuman brothers, he was still adjusting to his newborn existence. He leaned upon the staff of his deadly scythe.
"Before Gods, before the New Gods, the Titans ruled the Void. No flesh can bear their presence, but certain mighty forms are to be constructed through which the Kings may express their shattering cosmic judgment."
The three Horsemen posed behind Mannheim, gazing out at a world that had yet to suffer their prefabricated wrath. Many of the thugs and technicians surrounding Sivana drew back involuntarily. Pansies, Sivana thought disdainfully. This is just what we've been working to accomplish all this time.
"Only bodies of stone and steel and storm can carry such Riders and herein is written how such vessels shall be made...."
Sivana admired the scientists' handiwork. It had been an intriguing challenge, using modern technology to bring to life artificial entities that matched the cryptic prophecies of the so-called Crime Bible. The Horsemen were proof positive of what wonders the world's greatest cybernetics experts, terato-biologists, genetic engineers, germ warfare specialists, and plain old mad doctors were capable of, given unlimited resources. They were nothing less than the unification of science and superstition... in the form of unstoppable death machines.
fust wait until humanity sees what we've brewed up here! Sivana gloated. A veritable Monster Society of Evil...
Mannheim also seemed pleased with the results. "Indeed," he declared, clapping the heavy tome shut. "No one in history has ever had the money, the genius, and the ambition to dare what Intergang has done. The Four Horsemen have risen. They have come again!"
"The eyes are based on my death lens designs," Dr. Cyclops boasted to everyone within earshot. He appeared oblivious to the blood trickling from his nose. "That was my idea."
Sivana rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Cyclops? A certificate?"
The Horsemen scanned the crowd with their baleful eyes. They seemed to be looking for someone. Roggra opened his mouth to pronounce a death sentence:
"BLAKKAH-ADUM."
Zorrm nodded in agreement.
"BLACK ADAM MUST DIE."
Sivana cackled fiendishly. I wouldn't want be in Black Adam's shiny yellow boots, he thought, when the Horsemen make their way to Kahndaq. He took another bite of popcorn. Serves Adam right for being such a goody two-shoes lately.
The crowd applauded with varying degrees of trepidation. People dabbed at bloody noses and ears. Others clutched their stomachs and groaned with nausea. Sneezes and coughs intruded on the presentation. Dr. Boris Crabb, a relative newcomer to the island, scratched his head in confusion. Wisps of gray hair came away from his skull. He counted on his fingers. "What happened to the Fourth Horseman?"
Veronica Cale brought him up to speed. "Yurrd the Unknown, the hunger-lord, rode out before the others." A silk handkerchief kept her nosebleed under control as she gazed uncertainly at the fearsome entities she had helped to create. Apprehension, and perhaps even a trace of guilt, showed upon her elegant features. "Oh God, what have we made?"
God had nothing to do with it, Sivana thought. This is all our doing.
The popcorn was delicious.
THE HIMALAYAS.
The blizzard blew against Renee as she trudged up the icy slope, toward the heart of the storm. A wool scarf covered her face. She squinted into the stinging snow and wind. The climb was murder. Every step was an ordeal. She couldn't even feel her toes any more.
I could really use a cigarette right now, she thought. Good thing I didn't pack any.
A pair of wooden poles rested-heavily atop her shoulders. The rucksack was slung across her back. Renee held on tightly to the poles as she dragged Vic behind her on a makeshift litter. Strapped down onto the travois, he writhed futilely against his restraints. "Wh-who-who d-d-do you think you are?" he raged deliriously. His teeth chattered as he spoke. Racking coughs punctuated the tirade. "D-don't know anything ... just ... ju-just shoot you in the h-h-head ..."
Renee heard the pain creeping back into his voice again. Just keep talking, Charlie, she thought. At least it let her know he was still alive, if only barely. Too bad you're not making any sense.
"D-d-dump your body ... butter ... b-butterflies ..."
Butterflies? Renee wondered where Vic's fevered memories had taken him. Somewhere better than here, she hoped. The glacial wilderness stretched endlessly before her, all the way up into the forbidding black clouds. Second thoughts beset her. Would Vic have been more comfortable back in his cozy hospital room? Was she being selfish subjecting him to this? Probably, she admitted. But I can't lose another partner. Another friend.
Gravity, cold, and exhaustion conspired to slow her down. She paused for a moment just to catch her breath, no easy task at this altitude. She gulped down the thin air; her head throbbing for lack of oxygen. She pulled down her scarf, exposing chapped lips and reddened, windbumed features. A metal canteen poured ice water down her throat. She carefully lowered the litter onto the snow and turned around to check on Vic. His withered, pain-wracked face tore at her heart.
"I can't lose vou too, Charlie," she whisDered 1------T u~;r. *■*
___,________.1—m.1? v/____ia tvftwd_____imtnthpmfl
li’nnaa /iamciiII-aH K s-t* C?J- LC ULUU^iLL &11G W CiS LJ1L lilt
right path, but there was no way to be sure. The blizzard had hidden any tracks or landmarks beneath a featureless white shroud. The cascading snowflakes made it almost impossible to tell where she was going. For all she knew, she was halfway to Tibet by now.
She couldn't help recalling how easily the Black Marvel Family had flown her to Nanda Parbat before. She had flirted with the idea of calling upon Isis and Black Adam for help, but she'd had no idea how to contact them now that relations between Kahndaq and the USA had completely broken down in the wake of that bloodbath in California. Besides, it sounded like Isis and her family had their own problems to deal with these days.
Just as well, Renee thought. This is my responsibility, not theirs. She owed Vic that much. Where would I be now if not for him? Probably drinking and whoring myself into an early grave. The thought of facing the future without him filled her with dread. Who will I become if you're not around?
"We're almost there, Charlie," she said, more out of wishful thinking than anything else. Bending down, she kissed his forehead with her shredded lips. His bloodshot eyes stared past her, tracking the phantoms of his past. Straining lungs whistled damply as he sucked in the frigid air. "You've got to stay with me." She choked back a sob, finding it harder and harder to keep lying to herself about their chances. "It's not far now. Please stay with me."
She lifted the top end of the travois back onto her shoulders and tried to soldier on. Her strength abandoned her, however, and she stumbled forward onto the snow, almost dropping the litter. Landing on her knees, she succumbed to fatigue, just for a second, and closed her eyes, a single moment of weakness that threatened to linger on forever. Hadn't she read somewhere that freezing to death was just like falling asleep? She started to drift off....
No! Her eyes snapped open. I can't give up. Not now. Not when there's still a chance to save him.
She looked back at Vic, whose labored breathing seemed to be getting worse by the second. He was gasping for air like a fish out of water. He shivered uncontrollably beneath the heavy blankets Renee had swaddled him in. She hated the awful sounds coming from his chest. His lips were blue.
"I'm sorry, Charlie. So sorry." She crawled over to the litter, until she was kneeling beside his trembling body. The sub-zero temperature seemed to be competing with the cancer to see which could kill him off first. Shrugging off the rucksack, she retrieved the Question's rumpled trench coat from the pack and laid it on top of him like a blanket. An idea occurred to her, and she fished out his old belt buckle. Her thumb found the hidden switch and his rolled-up mask dropped out of the secret compartment into her palm. "Nothing left to keep you warm ... only this thing."
She gently smoothed the mask over Vic's emaciated features. His ravaged face vanished beneath the blank pseudoderm. "Maybe provide some insulation." She fumbled with the buckle, her thick gloves making her clumsy. "Now, how do you ... ?"
A metallic click rewarded her efforts. A chemical odor accompanied the hiss of Tot's ingenious binary gases as they were released from the buckle. To Renee's dismay, the howling wind carried most of the vapors away, but she blew enough of the fumes onto the mask to glue it to Vic's face. The eerie blank visage stirred painful memories of their earliest encounters. Vic Sage was the Question once more, perhaps for the last time.
"I think maybe I made a mistake, Charlie." Ferocious gusts whipped up the snow around her as she rose unsteadily to her feet and loaded the rucksack back onto her stooped frame. Peering into the storm, it almost seemed as though the swirling white powder was forming icy question marks in the turbulent air. Renee could barely see five feet in front of her. Frostbite nibbled at her extremities. "I think maybe I've gotten us both killed."
Just like Kate warned me. Renee wond ered. Serves me right for not listening to her. She wondered if she would ever hold Kate again, or if Kate would ever find out what had happened to her. I never even got a chance to ask her how she became Batwoman.