“Any luck?” I asked. Franks didn’t answer, intent on the code. “What, they don’t teach you this stuff at your fancy academy?”
“Shut up,” Grant muttered.
“No, you shut up,” I snapped. “I’m not done with you yet. We live through this and I’m going to beat your ass. The last one was just a warm-up.”
“You sucker-punched me at gunpoint. Try me in a fair fight, and we’ll see how tough you are,” Grant responded. He was delusional if he thought that would make a difference. “Torres would already have turned you over to his church if it wasn’t for me.”
I turned back to the door. “Traitor,” I muttered.
Grant was ticked. “You’ve got no clue. I joined MHI to make a difference. But MHI’s all about making money, not about making the world a better place. Myers was just like me once, disillusioned by MHI. He gave me a chance to do something important. MHI let me down, not the other way around. I thought that I had failed you guys, but it was the organization that failed me.”
“So you took Myers’ job offer?”
“Yes, I did. Best decision I’ve ever made. He needed somebody who could get on the inside, help catch his spy, and if that didn’t work out, at least he had someone undercover to keep an eye on MHI before they did anything really stupid. I got into this to help people. The Monster Control Bureau represent the real heroes. They do a dirty job to protect this country. MHI is just out to make a buck.”
“Make a buck? That’s right, that doesn’t matter when you’re born rich.”
“Quiet,” Franks ordered, tired of our bickering.
I glared at Grant, then went back to watching the entrance. He was a traitor, pure and simple. Myers had used me as bait to clean his own house, and now my friends were paying the price. When this was over, there were some accounts that needed settling.
My face hurt from where the werewolf had clawed me. Touching it indicated that the flesh was rent open in a few parallel strips down my cheek, and I was bleeding badly. Grant had the door covered while Franks fiddled with that stupid thing, so I made my way over to the sink and turned it on. The cold water burned.
Franks looked up from his task and saw me splashing the claw marks. “If you’re infected, I’ll have to—”
“Kill me? Yeah, I know. That’s how we met, remember?”
Franks nodded and went back to the ward.
It was when I looked back in the mirror that I noticed something amiss in one of the stalls. The door was closed, but there was a shadow dangling just under it. Shutting the water off, I approached the stall. I used the muzzle of the AK to push it open.
“G-Nome?”
The gnome had been shoved in the toilet. He was so small that most of his body was squished into the water, and it was awfully pink. One boot was dangling down, and that was what I had seen. His red hat was crunched low on his head, and his white beard was smeared with blood. His breathing was rapid and shallow.
I knelt next to the toilet and removed his hat. His eyes fluttered open weakly. He was badly injured. “’Sup, tall one,” he sputtered.
I reached out and touched his hand. “What happened?”
Black lightning struck and the bathroom vanished.
This time was different than the others. It was the first time that I’d experienced a nonhuman’s memories. The thoughts were subtly alien, and it took a moment for my brain to adjust and it couldn’t quite settle into the first person, rather I was a spectator in G-Nome’s head. He had confided in me Grant’s treachery, and he’d left me, confused by how such a physically tough human, a man-mountain of ass-kicking, could be crying and moping like a baby. No self-respecting gnome badass would ever let his homies see him cry. Tall humans were so weird. He knew it came from all of that banging their heads on doorways and ceiling fans and shit.
G-Nome had heard the shower turn on in the girls’ bathroom, and though he enjoyed spying on human girls as much as the next gnome, he was excited to watch the Tall One shoot the Snitch. He was from Birmingham, so he’d seen plenty of humans shoot each other, and that never got old. But when he caught the smell of killing on the air, he knew something wasn’t right. Suspicious, he’d left the tall human to his business and ported through the wall.
The shower was on when he popped into the bathroom. G-Nome held extra still so the invisibility would hold. He knew from experience that humans freaked out when they caught you looking at them. He could smell which human it was immediately. There was something special about this one. He’d seen her around the compound, and she’d stuck out for some reason, even for a human. It was that younger human hottie, with the redneck accent . . . Dawn. He’d overheard that she was a human beauty queen, and he could see why—that human was smokin’. Momma had warned him about the dangers of human women, what with their tallness and lack of facial hair.
G-Nome noticed Dawn’s discarded clothes and he was reminded of the death smell that had gotten his attention to begin with. They were piled up at the foot of the shower, and they were all messy. She’d been splashed with blood. He got closer and checked them out. The red was in splatters, like she’d slaughtered a pig or something.
Now that didn’t make no sense. That red beard, Milo, wasn’t having anybody do any work with bodies and guts today. And it was the day of the Hunters’ big ceremony. So why was Dawn here, covered in blood, and not in the big building with everybody else? She had been up to something.
G-Nome was known as the sharpest gnome on the North Side for a reason, and he knew right away that something was up. He snuck over real quiet and picked up her shirt. He sniffed it. The smell told him that it had come from one of the other new humans, but he couldn’t remember the dude’s name. G-Nome didn’t know how much blood was inside a normal human, but if this much got spilled at one time, he was probably dead. He had to tell Harbinger.
The shower turned off. G-Nome dropped the shirt and padded quickly to the corner. He was extra careful to stay still so the invisibility would hold. Dawn stepped out of the shower.
The sight was enough to take his mind off the murder. Aw hells yeah, baby . . . She had the longest legs of any human he’d ever seen. G-Nome knew he better be paying attention now that he knew some weird shit was going down. She didn’t bother to cover herself or dry off. Instead she picked up the clothes and stuffed them into the garbage. Then she stopped and lifted her pretty face to smell the air . . . He’d never seen a human do it like that before. Humans had terrible noses. G-Nome thought about just porting through the wall and getting the hell out of here, but he was too curious. Dawn’s nostrils flared. She spun around, wet hair flying around her shoulders, and she stared right at him.
How could she see him? Humans couldn’t see gnomes when they were still.
Dawn blinked and then her eyes were solid, colorless, clear as ice cubes. “Tomte,” she hissed, and her voice was all wrong, low and scary, and she used the old word for gnome. It took him a second to realize that he was dealing with a Fey and another second to realize that it was the worst kind of Fey of all.
“Doppelganger!” G-Nome sputtered as he reached for the gun in his waistband. But by then it was too late. The creature descended on him.
I jerked my hand away, a trail of black light drifted from his arm to my fingertips. It held for a moment, then drifted off like smoke. I could still feel the pressure of the shapeshifter’s hands around my throat.
“Yeah, crazy, huh?” G-Nome smiled weakly. “That was whack . . .” He trailed off.
He was dead.
I pulled his sopping body out of the toilet and set him gently on the ground. He didn’t weigh much.
“Where’d you get a gnome?” Franks asked.
I shook my head. “The Condition has a doppelganger here. That’s what Torres was talking about.”
“Who?” Grant asked.
“The girl from Texas, Dawn. She must have been on guard duty and killed that other Newbie, then she came back to clean up here and murdered G-Nome.” I kne
w almost nothing about doppelgangers, except that they were some kind of rare shapeshifter. “Then she went back and shot Harbinger.”
“So that’s how you caught me.” Grant muttered. “A gnome. . . .”
“If the doppelganger got away, it could be anyone now,” Franks said, not looking up from the ward stone. “I can’t figure this out. You have to know the inventor’s codes.” There was a massive bang as something landed on our roof. Grant and I flinched and raised our weapons, but with a sudden tapping, the noise retreated. There were all sorts of undead out there. “Who could make it work?”
I shrugged. “Earl, of course.” I didn’t add if he’s still alive. “Maybe Julie, or one of the older Hunters, but they’re all at the main building. Let’s get back there and find somebody.” Apparently Franks agreed. He handed the ward to me. I stuffed it in the bag and hoisted the stolen AK. “Tunnels?”
Grant stood. “I don’t really want to try the front door right now.”
The compound was a war zone. A few hundred yards away the main building was under siege. Black shapes were clambering up the walls. Occasional explosions highlighted more dimly-visible things moving in a circle around the structure, directed by robed figures. Muzzle flashes flew from every window on the top floor. Continuous streams of tracers rained from the roof into the surroundings and a few worked patterns across the night sky.
“What are they shooting at in the air?” Grant asked hesitantly.
The three of us were clustered, kneeling next to the opening into the tunnels. The ladder stretched into the darkness below us. “I don’t know,” I said quickly. This asshole was creative enough to animate bears, so who the hell knew what he had for air support.
Headquarters seemed to be holding its own. The heavy portcullis had been dropped over the front door. A mass of misshapen bodies was piling up at the entrance. Hammering and hacking could be heard even over the gunfire. Suddenly a brilliant streamer of fire ignited from the narrow windows above the door, as someone used a flamethrower to hose down the monsters at the gate. Flaming bodies stumbled about before collapsing.
The flamethrower revealed something else charging out of the darkness. A massive shape, big as a truck, plowed through the burning dead and collided with the gate. The crash echoed across the entire compound.
“What’s that?” I hissed.
Four streams of tracers lit into the giant, followed by more fire, and what had to be a chain of 40mm grenade detonations. The now-burning beast backed up for another run. “Hmmm . . . zombie elephant,” Franks answered thoughtfully. “Unless it’s a dinosaur. Hard to tell with the armor.”
So Hood had either murdered a zoo or he’d pulled a Jurassic Park, but either way, this was really bad. “Back door it is,” I suggested, shining my flashlight down the ladder.
Two dozen white eyes blinked back at me.
“Shoggoth!” Franks bellowed. His palm struck me in the shoulder, knocking me aside. A black tentacle exploded from the hole, splitting the air where I had been standing. It snapped back into the dark with a bullwhip crack. Franks yanked another grenade from his damaged suit coat, pulled the pin, and tossed it down the hole. “Back.”
I ran toward the barracks. I could hear Grant huffing along beside me. The grenade detonated, but rather than a boom, it was a hiss. Thermite. The shoggoth made an unbearable noise, a terrible distorted wail, like somebody had overloaded a bank of speakers by having an insane howler monkey attack the microphone. We clamped our hands over our ears. The noise faded away.
When I turned around, smoke was pouring from the hole. “Is it dead?”
Franks looked at me like I was stupid. Of course not. Harbinger had said that the warding kept out undead and transdimensional creatures, which apparently included the Condition’s pet shoggoth. With the shield down, it must have burrowed right into our tunnels. “We’ve got to get back down there.”
“No more grenades,” he replied.
They were only vulnerable to fire. Now there was no way to get into the main building. “Damn it!” That thing would own us in the tunnels.
“Quiet!” Grant exclaimed, holding up his hand. Large wings batted above us in the night. The shoggoth’s scream must have gotten its attention. The three of us ducked back under the overhanging roof of the barracks. The thing circled for a moment, each beat of the wings ponderous and slow. As the noise stopped, something landed on the roof above us with a crash of breaking shingles.
I held my breath. I was screwed. Monsters below us, monsters above us, monsters all around us. We were armed with a few stolen small arms and a magic rock that we didn’t know how to work. We had nowhere to go, and my companions were a snitch and a psycho. Talk about bleak. Dust fell from the overhang as the winged monster above us shifted.
There was a flash from the opposite side of the compound. There was a violent impact overhead and whatever it was above us crashed into the roof. The mystery creature leapt upward, visible for just a moment as a gray mass, before two wings spread wide and it jerked straight up and out of sight, absurdly fast.
What was that? Grant mouthed, obviously afraid.
I shrugged, hell if I know, then pointed in the direction of the muzzle flash. It had come from Milo’s workshop. Either Milo was at his shop and had sniped the thing, or somebody else had done us the favor. Either way, it beat sticking around while other things came to see if there was anything edible over here. Franks realized what I was thinking and nodded. There were a few terrain features we could use for cover between us and the shop, but there was a long expanse of open ground at the end. Sticking Milo clear out there made sense when he was playing with explosives and deadly chemicals, but didn’t seem so clever right about now.
“Leapfrog,” Franks stated. He pointed at Grant, “One,” then at me, “two,” then jerked his thumb at himself. “Three. Move.”
If something spotted us, we were as good as dead. Grant took one quick look at the dark sky, then back at the fires leaping up around headquarters. Nothing seemed to be coming this way. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed hard, then he took off at a full sprint for the next building. It was a Tuff Shed we stored maintenance equipment in. He reached it, then spun around, jerking his head in every direction. He waved for me to come, then raised the Uzi and waited.
I leapt to my feet, moving as fast as I could. My blood was thundering in my ears as my big boots slammed into the gravel. I made it halfway before I heard the wings. Grant was looking right over me, eyes unbelievably wide, as he jerked the Uzi up and opened fire. I fell on my face, sliding across the dirt like I was trying to steal a base. The winged monster zipped past me in a blast of wind. Jerking my head up, I saw the wings spread as it soared upward again, giant three-toed talons trailing behind. I wanted nothing more than to lie here and try to hide, but that was suicidal. Clambering back up, I ran the rest of the way to the shed.
Grant was stammering. “Okay, walking dead, that’s fine. Running dead, I can handle. But the flying dead? Hell with this. I quit.”
I gasped for breath. “Too late. You’re fired.” Franks had seen what had happened to me, but went for it anyway. He moved unbelievably fast for such a big dude, arms and legs pumping like an Olympian. “Here it comes,” I said, as I caught sight of the flying monster banking around. It was trailing Franks now, high in the air. It tucked its wings in and plummeted like a missile right at him. The AK’s iron sights were rudimentary at best, and I could barely see them in the dark, but I did my best, pumping round after round at the speeding target. We weren’t going to stop it in time.
Franks must have known that. He suddenly stopped, throwing his weight back, skidding through the gravel as he turned, raising his own stolen AK one-handed and firing, a long strobe-effect burst of full-auto right into the creature. It flared its wings at the last moment, then Franks was simply gone, scooped right off the Earth and sucked into the sky.
They passed right over us, and the last thing I saw before they disappeared o
ver the top of the shed was Franks crawling up the monster’s legs and actually punching it in the face.
The land-based undead had heard the gunfire and shadows were moving in front of the flames, lumbering our way. Grant and I looked at each other, then at the direction Franks had gone. That was the direction we were heading anyway. Tactics were out the window, and now it was time to haul ass. Correction—speed is a tactic. “Run!” I shouted.
We cornered the building, moving fast for the relative safety of Milo’s workshop. Grant is a lot lighter than I am, and even wearing his armor, he quickly left me in the dust. When you’re getting chased by a zombie bear, I guess you don’t need to be faster than the bear, just faster than your friends. I briefly contemplated shooting Grant in the leg.
Then I heard the beat of wings again. Damn it, not now. This time the beating seemed somehow lopsided and unbalanced. The gray shape appeared out of the sky ahead of us, ungainly, with one wing fluttering. A darker shape that could only be Franks was dangling from one side, slamming a fist repeatedly into the monster. It spiraled down, out of control, and crash-landed into some kudzu-coated trees.
I veered slightly off course, heading for the trees. The noises were clear. Somebody was administering a severe beating. The monster was on its back, Franks was astride its chest, raining hammer blows down on its mutant skull, beating the hell out of a creature that was approximately the size of a living-room couch.
One giant claw shoved Franks off and the creature sat up. It was a zombie, but a zombie of what I couldn’t tell you. Its legs ended in raptor claws, but its upper body was that of a man. Leathery bat wings extended from each shoulder, one clearly crushed and broken by the fall. Its face was a skull now, but about the size of a five-gallon bucket and filled with teeth that looked like rusty nails. Blank eye sockets swiveled toward me.
It took me a couple of shots in the dark before the skull exploded into powdery fragments. It dropped.
Franks appeared. His breathing was ragged. “I hate flying coach.”