Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (82 page)

Rook turned back to Fanny, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “Fanny, baby, you can’t do this to me.” His voice cracked. “Not now.”

Still nothing. He gave her a breath, but no pulse. He laced his fingers together performing CPR, but her heart did not beat. He couldn’t stop. How could he? It was
Fanny
.

“You can’t die. You’re the only one who—”

A lightning bolt struck so close that Rook smelled ozone, and the hairs on his arm stood straight up. Rook jumped to his feet.

“You want me?” he screamed to the sky. “You want
me
? Come and get me!”

Rook raised his arms to the sky, and the storm clouds were kind enough to oblige his request, striking him with lightning in the arm. As the electricity surged through his body, wracking it to the marrow, Rook fell to his knees and placed his other hand on Fanny’s chest. Her limp form arced, lifting Fanny from the ground.

He held his hand there until the bolt threw him backward, and he landed hard into a shrub. Using his burnt hand, he fanned away the smoke from his singed hair. Crawling, he made his way to Fanny. But she lay still on the ground.

Rook cradled her head in his lap. He fought the tears, possibly harder than he fought the vortex, but still they spilled over, splashing onto Fanny’s face.

A gasp rocked her frame.

“That’s it, Fanny. If anyone can find the way back, it’s you.”

She gasped a few more times as her face flushed. Fanny’s eyelids fluttered as she smiled up sweetly at him. “New hairdo?” She coughed, then finished. “Looks good.”

Rook pulled her into a hug as lightning danced all around them. The earth rumbled its discontent. He urged her up. “Sweetie, we kind of need to go.”

“I’m sleepy,” Fanny said, yawning.

“Hon, we’re in the middle of a lightning storm.”

Fanny giggled. “You should have said so, silly!”

Rook helped her up as the strikes intensified.

They were alive, but for how long?

* * *

Each footfall jarred Tomahawk’s skull, creating bright bursts of light, obscuring his vision. Or was that just all the lightning? It took him a moment to realize that it was Angela supporting him as Beauty dragged Chad up the ravine. They made it to the rendezvous point, the top of the foothills, but no one else was there.

“I thought we were supposed to have an escape vehicle?” he asked.

Beauty tossed up a hand. “I did
not
arrange this, that is for sure.”

Tomahawk squinted against the glare, both inside and outside of his head. Was that something approaching? Angela strained to see as well.

“I think it’s a helicopter!” she announced.

But it wasn’t flying like any helicopter Tomahawk was used to. As a matter of fact, it swooped in so erratically that it seemed more like a child’s remote-control toy—like one belonging to a very
young
child, on his or her very first day of practice.

But no one complained as it made an awkward, triple-bounce landing. Everyone loaded it, glad to be out of the maelstrom of wind and debris. Tomahawk searched outside for Rook and Fanny. As the clouds above seemed near to bursting and the Earth bounced and rolled under the struts, how much longer could they wait?

Then on the far side of the ridgeline, Rook and Fanny ran headlong toward them.

“Go!” Rook shouted.

“Move it!” Tomahawk screamed against the gale-force winds.

But Rook shook his head. “Lift off!”

That made no sense. Until Tomahawk realized that lightning wasn’t just striking around Rook and Fanny, it was hounding them, cracking at their feet like a white whip.

“Get us in the air,” Tomahawk directed the pilot as he revved the rotors.

“But—” Beauty stated until she took in the scene, then encouraged the pilot. “You heard the man.”

CHAPTER 10

Rook veered away from the chopper as it lifted off, a bit wobbly. He didn’t exactly have time to worry about the errant helicopter, as the lightning seemed eager to taste both of their flesh again. Instead, Rook headed to a huge oak tree towering over the landscape.

Winded, but protected by the tree’s huge branches, they pulled to a stop. He indicated to Fanny. “Get up there.”

Her eyes dilated. “Really? I mean, I really get to climb this?”

“You know it.”

The girl was scrambling up the branches in seconds flat. Good thing she majored in tree climbing. Rook, on the other hand, still had the wounds of electrocution, plus all the punishment Sheli had dealt out. And—oh yeah—that whole thing about being torn in two by the forces of good and evil.

His bones creaked as he made his way up behind Fanny. She was already at the top, waving at the helicopter. It banked over, and Tomahawk helped Fanny into the chopper.

Just a few more branches. Just a few more feet. Rook could feel the rotor wash and hear Tomahawk yelling for him to hurry.

Puffing, Rook made it to the top and reached his arm out for Tomahawk when the lightning took out its frustrations on the tree. With a loud
crack
, the giant oak split down the middle. As the branches began their descent, Rook threw himself from the doomed tree.

He totally missed the door, but his midriff hit a strut. His arms wrapped around the metal rail as the helicopter dipped from the sky, barely skimming the ground. Getting his feet under him, Rook let go of the rail and hopped into the chopper.

“Head west!” Rook yelled at the pilot as he turned to Tomahawk. “Weapons!”

Tomahawk tossed him an assault rifle. Rook caught it in midair and pointed out the door as those freaking winged demons caught up with them. Tomahawk joined him, firing into the horde.

If it wasn’t vengeful lightning, it was always something else.

* * *

Beauty tried to keep Chad calm as Fanny put her fingers in her ears to block out the sound of automatic fire… that didn’t seem to be making much of a dent in the demons.

“Can I shoot something?” Fanny asked, but Beauty shook her head.

“No, honey. Leave it to the boys.”

“But I’m really, really, really good at it!” Fanny insisted, wringing her hands.

Before Beauty could remind Fanny that then she was inside a video game, the helicopter pitched to the left, making a steep and scary descent. Beauty searched up front to find the pilot slumped over.

She made her way forward. “Are you—?”

Beauty touched his hand, and his index finger fell off.

“Rook!” she yelled.

“A little busy!” he shouted back.

Tomahawk, though, took a moment to glance over his shoulder as Beauty knocked another finger off. He tapped Rook on the shoulder.

“No, seriously, you need to see this!”

Clearly annoyed, Rook turned around as the pilot’s hand… fell off. You had to give it to the zombie’s work ethic. He tried to steer the helicopter with his knee.

“Take over!” Rook ordered Tomahawk, as Beauty did her best to stabilize the joystick.

* * *

“I can’t! I’m not qualified,” Tomahawk responded, squeezing off a few more rounds into the rapidly approaching winged demons.

“Why not?” Rook asked, firing equally as rapidly. “You can drive a car.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Tomahawk protested. You didn’t “drive” a chopper.

“Well, somebody had better do something!” Beauty yelled as the pilot’s knee collapsed at a ninety-degree angle, and his nose fell onto the dash.

Rook glanced over. “Do you really want
me
to try?”

Given that the last time Tomahawk tried to teach Rook to drive, it ended in a totaled Subaru and seventeen stitches, Tomahawk handed his gun to Angela. “Just squeeze the trigger.”

The woman looked askance, but took the weapon.

Tomahawk gently attempted to move the pilot from his seat, but first an arm fell off, and then the head rolled off and hit Rook in the ankle.

Rook glanced down, then kicked the head out of the chopper. “When I catch up with Vlad…”

If they caught up with Vlad
, Tomahawk thought as he unceremoniously dumped the pilot’s torso and legs out of the pilot’s seat. Tomahawk took the stick, but the zombie pilot made it look easier than it was. They pitched forward, and then back. Tomahawk tried to stabilize their flight. Making matters worse, the demons had caught up with them, jostling the craft off any course Tomahawk tried to set.

Then Tomahawk realized that there was no more shooting. He glanced over his shoulder to find Rook smiling. Never a good sign.

“This is a military chopper, isn’t it?” he asked.

Clearly, from the markings and instrumentation, it was. “Yes. And?”

“Then let’s put the taxpayers’ money to work.”

Tomahawk did his best to work the joystick and use the weapon’s controls, but his effort was doomed.

“Here, let me help,” Beauty said, as she went to get into the copilot’s seat, but Fanny jumped in first.

“I’ll do it!”

“Fanny, I don’t think—” Tomahawk tried to warn her, but the girl already had the safeties off and was getting ready to fire.

“Now, rather than later!” Rook demanded.

“That’s funny! That’s almost the name of a candy!” She replied with great glee.

Beauty tried to move her out of the seat, yet Fanny refused to budge. Tomahawk struggled to level out their flight as Fanny flipped a switch and began firing.

“Take that! And that! And that! You meanies!!!”

At first, the beasts scattered upon the buffeting wind. But pretty darn quickly, they realized that Fanny had the enthusiasm, but very poor aim. Boldly, they struck at the craft until they parted, revealing a demon double their size, covered in armor.

Before Tomahawk could say anything, Fanny switched to the missile.

“Oh, so you think you’re the big boss?” She fired a missile, but missed by twenty feet.

“No!” Tomahawk yelled as he tried to stop her hand from firing the second missile.

“Kowabunga!” Fanny yelled, releasing not just the second but also the third missile—extremely wide of their mark.

Beauty wrestled with the girl. “No. That’s our last one!”

But it was too late. The missile rocked the chopper as it launched. Their last hope was sailing away.

* * *

Angela turned to Rook as his gun clattered to the grating and slid out the open door.

“
Deliterea
!” he shouted as he closed his eyes.

As the helicopter tilted right, Angela lashed a hand out, catching Rook before he nearly tumbled out the door. Angela had him only by the belt as his body stiffened. She wrestled with getting Rook inside the helicopter as the veins on his temple bulged and his numerous cuts began to bleed. His hands were outstretched, as if trying to guide the missile.

Which did not seem to be working too well. The demon boss screeched her victory.

Then Rook’s eyes snapped open and the missile turned on a dime, hitting the armored demon in the wing. The thing wasn’t mortally wounded, but neither could it fly. The swarm panicked, banking out of their way and fluttering down to their fallen leader.

The helicopter leveled out as Tomahawk seemed to get control. Rook, though, slumped in Angela’s arms. She guided him into the helicopter.

“I’ve got you,” Angela murmured as she lowered him to a sitting position. Fresh from the spell, Rook’s eyes were pained. Yet, there was an innocence about them—as though he were simply too tired to put on the jaded routine.

The rest of the group cheered as they flew up and out of the Devil’s Punchbowl. Instead of smiling, though, Rook frowned. The mask descended once again over his features.

“What?” Angela asked.

“Nothing.”

Angela cocked her head. Maybe she had only known him the better part of a day, but she already knew that look. Beauty must have noticed it, too.

“She asked you, ‘What?’ “

“I said, ‘
nothing
,’ “ Rook emphasized.

Fanny turned around in the copilot seat. “I can feel it, too. A pressure. Like when I stick jelly beans up my nose, and then try to sneeze.”

“Close enough, Fanny,” Rook said. “I think the barrier’s sealing must have—”

The helicopter was buffeted by the blast of a wave from an enormous explosion at the nexus. Suddenly, they were traveling at three times the speed that Tomahawk was already having trouble controlling. The nose of the chopper tilted down, nearly vertical, as everyone slid toward the front. Fanny practically stood upright, with her feet against the windshield.

“This is so awesome!” she said, giggling.

Straining against gravity, Angela stared out the window as a mushroom-shaped cloud formed over the valley. Only the smoke was blue, with flecks of red. Then as suddenly as the blast wave hit, it was gone. The helicopter slowed, the clouds parted, and stars twinkled overhead—as if nothing untoward had happened this evening.

“Is it over?” she asked Rook.

As he tenderly probed a wound on his side, Rook replied, “It had better be.”

“Well, um…” Tomahawk said as he struggled with the controls. “Hate to burst your bubble, but um… we are out of fuel.”

“Then land!” Rook ordered.

“Seriously, dude,” Tomahawk said as he strained against the joystick. “What do you think I am doing?”

The chopper skimmed over treetops as Angela clutched the back of the seat. She was no expert, but there was no way they were going to maintain altitude for much longer.

“Rook…” Beauty stated, but he ignored her, so Angela went over. “Is it just me,” the Arranger asked, “Or is Chad not looking so hot?”

Actually, Chad looked very hot. Too hot. As though his skin was burning alive. The portal symbols twirled and spun, faster and faster. Before they could get Rook’s attention, the helicopter lurched again.

“That’s it!” Rook yelled and got Fanny out of her seat. “Bring Chad over!”

He patted Fanny on the shoulder. “Just roll when you hit.”

For such a young, seemingly fragile soul, Fanny just nodded, and then dove out the window as they skimmed the ground. She hit, but she rolled. Tomahawk helped Beauty with Chad as they, too, jumped. Rook grabbed Angela’s hand as the chopper dove nose-first into a tree. As the gas tank exploded, they leapt out the door.