Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (26 page)

“You wouldn’t dare! Let me go! Motherfuckers, let me go!” he shouted, but still he was dragged towards the earthbound lightning. Ellis looked around, at the town folk around her. Some of the folk were watching the spectacle without much interest, while others talked among themselves.

“So it was quite good, you say.” The two women behind Ellis continued talking unabated.

“What?”

“The sweet potato recipe.”

“Yeah. I was actually surprised, it coming from Mary the way it did. But there were no leftovers, everyone taking several helpings. The crunchy topping is incredible.”

“Maybe I should try making it, then.”

“Just don’t tell Mary. You won’t hear the end of it.”

“Sure.”           

“Well, actually I was thinking of changing the recipe a little. Next time I won’t add brown sugar. I’ll let the natural sweetness of the potatoes come forward. I might give it a try next time.”

“Hey! Here comes Mary now! Better don’t tell her you’re planning to change her recipe.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

The blond biker’s shouts had stopped. He had reached the top of the wooden platform, the flames barely one yard away from him now. The electric storm grew, as if expecting prey. White and blue sparks engulfed the hilltop. Electric tongues of fire started to snake towards the biker, crawling over the platform, causing him to squirm to avoid them. The hilltop was illuminated by the increasingly bright flickering light coming out of the electrical discharge. Ellis had to clench her fists, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hand, to stop from moving. The biker was being raised in preparation for throwing into the fire, electric arcs crawling all over his body, leaving smoking singed marks.

“Wait! Don’t throw me in! Wait!”” the biker finally shouted. He averted his face, trying to look away from the blinding blaze. Allan gestured and the biker was lowered down to the foot of the stage. The two men flanking him held him tightly. Allan bent towards him, the silvery mask near the biker’s tear-filled face.

“Do you take the pact? Will you bear the sign?” Allan asked.

“Yes! Yes! Please! I take it!” the man sobbed. He kneeled down, pressing hands and feet to the ground, his long blond hair flying in the electric storm raging above him. He was held up again, while Allan brought the sign at the end of his rod towards the blond biker. Once more, the sign was branded into a biker’s chest, amid shrieks of pain. When it was over, the biker was dragged away, sobbing and retching. Allan turned to the townsfolk.

“The pact lives! It is the pact that makes us worthy of saving by the Stormgod! The day of descent is not far away now! The house of the Stormgod will be completed soon and then the Stormgod will touch the Earth. The third war will begin! Remember the Name!” Allan said. He raised his rod high and all the people around Ellis raised their arms as well, together chanting that same phrase over and over again.

An intense flash of light blinded Ellis. The great fire went out and the earthbound lightning bolt dissipated, leaving a scorched and blackened platform on a dark hilltop. Ellis blinked. She thought she had seen a blue-white streak flying upwards, entering the clouds. She looked at the heavy, roughly circular cloud above. She could not be sure, but she thought she saw flashes of light inside it.

Ellis looked back at Allan. He looked somehow relieved. He was standing a little straighter and his movements were more relaxed. He was really glad not to have fed the fire tonight, Ellis thought.

“Rose, do I have a recipe for you!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, got it off the tube. Tried it on my hubby, worked like a charm.”

“Do tell.”

“Is it praline sweet potatoes, by any chance, Mary?” another woman asked.

“No, silly. I gave you that last year. This one’s even better. Pulled pork. You need eight pounds of pork butt roast for ten servings. Let me see now. Paprika. Mustard - dry, mind you. Black pepper. Red pepper. Brown sugar.”

“Naturally, brown sugar. Never thought otherwise.”

“White pepper, onion powder. Look, maybe I should come over and help you with it. It’s not really complicated, but you’ve got to get things just right.”

***

Later that night, two miles east of Owego, on the shoulder of County Road 17, a black van stood waiting. Its lights were off and to all appearances it was deserted. In the night, the darkened windows were practically opaque from outside. A person would have to press his nose against the windshield to see anything inside, but no one could get that close, of course. Two men were scanning the night from within the vehicle, using night vision goggles, one of them holding a huge M107 rifle.

“All clear.”

“Roger, Guardian.”

“We’ll keep tabs on you, at least till you approach town.”

“I’m a big girl, Guardian. I can take care of myself.”

“Alpha, who said we’re protecting you? We’re here to give first aid to those unfortunates you meet on your way back to town.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Guardian.” The van’s door was slammed shut, a very loud noise at that late hour on the almost-deserted road. Ellis took off, running towards Owego. She had her radio transmitter on, disguised as an MP3 player. She jogged, moving lightly, wearing loose training pants and a thick sweatshirt. She didn’t look back at the black van she had just left, which was now, lights off, trailing her slowly, keeping to three hundred yards behind. She had delivered a full report, including images she had taken with a small, concealed camera. The trial, as she reported, was a pivoting point in their investigation of the cult.

“Keep your distance, Guardian.”

“Roger, Alpha. I already noticed your deodorant was failing.”

“Ha!” Ellis kept running, not too fast, her breath steady. She was approaching a thick grove of trees on the bank of Susquehanna River.

“Alpha! A red Chrysler is approaching your position.”

“Roger.”

“Alpha, it passed us. It’s approaching you - Alpha, it’s slowing down!” Ellis looked behind her. A pair of headlights was coming down the road towards her. She winced as the lights got closer. She did have a pretty good excuse for what she was doing, just jogging at night, but, still, it was better not to be seen at all.

“Guardian, I’m going down to the river. I’d rather not be seen.”

“Roger, Alpha. Be careful. The car is passing -  passing - Alpha, the car has stopped. I can see one person leaving the car, he’s - I’ve lost him.”

Ellis was now near the bank of the river. The ground tilted sharply and Ellis slowed down to a walk. She looked all around her. The small grove of trees was between her and the road.

“Alpha, I’m sending Benny and Joanna to you. Stay put.”

Ellis opened her mouth to protest when something caught her attention. The river was at her back and the trees were in front of her, thirty or forty yards away. The night was quiet. The river murmured sleepily behind her and the trees rustled softly in the gentle winds. Her sneakers pressed down on the low grass on the uneven ground near the river. Ellis watched her surroundings carefully. Something was giving her a queasy feeling. Suddenly, she figured it out. There were no insect sounds at all. No bird calls. It was unnaturally quiet.

Loud footsteps in the night echoed too deafeningly. Ellis tensed, but it was only Benny and Joanna, coming towards her from either side of the small grove, hands inside their clothes, ready to draw their weapons in an instant.

“Guardian, Benny and Joanna have joined me. We see nothing. Heading out,” Ellis reported. They moved out, the two agents in front, Ellis behind. She was unarmed in order to maintain her cover. They stopped. Ellis crouched down and the two agents drew their P90 submachine guns. They heard crashing sounds that slowly intensified.

“The trees!” Ellis hissed. Something was coming towards them. The agents turned on the flashlights hanging beneath the short barrels of their weapons and trained them on the approaching figure. It was a man, short and rotund, moving through the trees towards them. Ellis stepped back, an instinctive move. The man was moving strangely. He didn’t seem to mind the sharp branches slapping him in the face, or the twigs tripping him. He moved on like a man moving through water: hands limp at his side, legs pumping, knees stiff. His eyes were strange -  black and blank, as if his humanity had been drained away.

“We’ll stop him, question him, and hold him long enough for you to go on. He couldn’t have seen your face,” Benny said. Ellis opened her mouth to protest, but the two NSA agents were already running towards the figure.

“Hold it! FBI! Hands up! Get on the ground, now!” Benny shouted. The man continued to advance, walking stiffly, only his legs working. The agents were closing in on him.

“Hey, Bozo! You won’t get another warning! On the ground, now!” Benny shouted again. Ellis started to move away, but the man seemed to be able to see her, even though she was in darkness and he had two flashlights aimed at his face, and turned towards her. Ellis saw he was bespectacled, but his glasses were hanging askance.

“Okay, I’ll drop him. Last chance, Bozo!” Benny shouted, but the man kept advancing. Benny advanced towards the man, but suddenly he was lifted off his legs and thrown down, the air expelled from his lungs, his weapon rolling away from him. The short man was bending over him. Joanna cocked her weapon and assumed firing position, slightly crouched, the weapon’s stock under her armpit and her left hand supporting the submachine gun. She pulled the charging handle, switched the safety to single fire, aimed carefully and fired.

The short man rocked as the bullet hit him. Then he turned towards Joanna and started lumbering towards her. Ellis looked on, frozen. The NSA agent fired at him repeatedly, ten bullets hammering into the man. He shuddered with each hit, but the bullets seemed to cause little damage, tattering his shirt but not hurting him. He slapped Joanna once with his hand and she sailed through the air, landing on the ground in a heap, ten yards away.

The small man crouched on all four and looked towards Ellis with his blank eyes. Suddenly, he opened his mouth and a long, black, triple-forked tongue snaked out. The man turned like a spider towards Benny and shrieked once, making Ellis shudder. She had heard men make weirder sounds before, but not one so hungry. The man jumped and landed near Benny. Ellis gasped in astonishment. The big NSA agent was lifted off the ground, the short man holding him up effortlessly. The man’s mouth opened, gaping wider and wider, like a human snake. Benny, though barely conscious, started to thrash, his limbs whipping around, his mouth gaping open, impossibly wide. The NSA agent screamed, a long ululating never-ending cry, rising in pitch. Ellis, horrified, saw a small, brilliant orb of light with Benny’s frightened features exit his mouth and his scream died. The fat man grabbed the small ball of light in his bare hand and swallowed it.

The small fat man crouched on all fours over Benny’s body like an obscene spider probing its prey for its last drops of blood, holding Benny close. The man issued a morose howl and dropped Benny’s body as if it were a discarded shirt. The man turned towards Ellis and she let out a little moan, choked with fear. Thick yellow smoke was now coming out of his eye sockets as if they were vents for a hellish internal fire.

Ellis backed away, the man advancing towards her. He walked like something that wasn’t quite sure how to use his body, as if he had forgotten how to walk many years ago. Ellis blinked, and tore her eyes away from the inhuman looking ones. She tried to look behind him. She didn’t have any kind of weapon on her.

“Joanna! Joanna! Wake up! Joanna!” Ellis shouted while backing up. The NSA agent started to stir.

“Joanna! Joanna! Fire at him! Joanna!” Ellis tried to control her rapid breathing, walking back as fast as she could. She saw the NSA agent get up groggily.

“Benny!” the agent yelled, seeing the prone figure not far from her.

“Joanna! Leave him! Take your weapon! Fire at the bastard! Now! That’s it, safety to automatic, aim, fire!” Ellis guided the shaken agent. She threw herself down the moment the bullets started to fly. A lethal fusillade of 5.7-millimeter rounds erupted all around the short man. The fifty-bullet magazine, minus the ten fired earlier, was emptied in less than ten seconds with a mechanical tearing sound, extremely loud in the night.

Ellis got up. She saw the man had been knocked some distance towards the river. However, he was sill advancing towards her. Though the bullets tore his clothes, his flesh seemed impervious. Ellis started to run away, when she saw something. She stopped and picked up a thick branch, a makeshift staff taller than her. She turned back towards the man. He was walking near the river’s bank. Holding the staff securely in her hands, Ellis changed her posture, crouching low, arms spread wide.

“Joanna! Joanna!”

“I’m out! I’m out of bullets!” Ellis saw the shell-shocked agent was pressing the trigger repeatedly.

“Joanna! Remove the magazine! Come on, remove it! Take a fresh magazine. That’s it. Load it. Pull the charging handle!” Ellis guided the agent. The man or whatever it was that was reaching towards her walked forward unhurriedly. Ellis looked at his hands: every finger was tipped by a black talon several inches long. He left a scorched path is wake, the long grasses turning yellow, shriveling and falling down right in front of Ellis’s eyes.