Matt Archer: Redemption (32 page)

We made our way down the dune without a single shadow coming our way. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid us. I was spoiling for a fight, but I wasn’t getting any satisfaction. The monsters had marked me as untouchable.

“Archer!” Klimmett waved, hiking as fast as he could while toting a med-kit. Lanningham and Blakeney had his back, each carrying rifles. “Bring him here.”

I settled Will on the sand to let Klimmett check out his hand. He whistled. “Clean cut, but we need to stop the bleeding and stitch this up. Let me bind it, then we’ll go down to the medic tent.”

While Klimmett was busy putting together a field dressing, I scanned the dunes. The sky had faded several more degrees; now it was the color of steel. It had gotten colder, too. The sun’s rays didn’t seem as warm. Could he be doing this? Could the Master dim its light to the point we’d freeze to death?

“We’re ready to move,” Klimmett said. “We can take it from here, Archer.”

I nodded to Will. “Let them fix you up. Don’t rush it.”

He glared at me. “I’ll be—”

The ground shifted under our feet as a dome of sand rose from the dune behind us. Staying upright became a fulltime job, and Lanningham fell to a knee. A big sinkhole opened up next to him.

The dome burst open and a roach the size of a minivan crawled out. Its mandibles clicked razor-sharp and beady eyes stared me down.

“God almighty,” Blakeney said. “Anybody got an industrial-sized can of Raid?”

No one had a chance to answer, because the bug came after us. I took quick stock of our new nightmare. Hard shell, tiny head, stiff bristles on its six legs. Trying to run underneath it wouldn’t be an option—those bristles would slice me open. From what I could see, its only weak spot was the eyes.

It lunged straight for me, and I skittered out of its way. Think, think. Would its shell crack if I stabbed it?

Shots rang out and bullets clinked off the bug’s armored hide to punch into the sand at my feet. “Hold fire!”

The beetle took that moment to rush me, pincers aimed right at my head. I tucked and rolled, but it caught me and tossed me like a sack of mulch. The sand was forgiving, but I still cartwheeled through the air and crashed down hard enough to see spots. My knife flew out of my hand and slid ten feet away.

The bug scuttled over, clicking and reeking of garbage. I struggled to push myself up, but it was fast and the sliding sand, added to my dizzy head, made me slow.

As it bent to snap me in two with its mandible, a man screamed, “No!” and a large figure dove between me and the bug.

The monster buzzed angrily and clamped down on the Lanningham’s waist. Before it yanked him up, Lanningham gasped, “Save your sister.”

Then the monster snapped his spine. I saw the light go out in his eyes before the bug dropped him down into the sinkhole. It happened so fast the whole scene had a dreamlike quality, but I knew it was very real—and that I’d lost another friend.

Fury pushed me to crawl over to my knife and stand. My legs quivered, but I couldn’t let his sacrifice go unavenged. “Tink? I need a good angle to throw the knife. Its head is too well defended by all those pincers. Think we could fly? Anything to get on top of this thing.”

No. We can’t waste the energy. You need it for later.

“Screw that! I want to kill this thing!”

“Wait!” Will staggered over to me. Before I could ask what he was doing, he swiped a finger along the cut in my arm, then smeared it on the flat of his blade. “Duck and cover!”

“What are you—?”

Will threw his knife at the monster bug. It clipped an antenna, then bounced harmlessly off.

“What’s wrong with you? We needed that!” I started forward to attack, but Will caught my wrist.

“Get down!” he said. He tugged me hard with his good hand.

“But your knife—”

Will yanked me down next to him and flung his arm over our heads. Through a gap, I saw Klimmett and Blakeney drop, too.

Just in time.

The bug let out a screech to rival a banshee, then there was a pop and green guts rained down. It slimed us completely. God, the smell was worse than the sewers in Marrakech.

I coughed and sat up. “What did you
do
?”

“It’s your blood,” Will said, low and urgent. “You got blood on that angel’s back earlier and
melted
her. Your blood on my knife exploded that bug. This is how we kill all of them.”

“My
blood?
I did that?”

“Why do you think most of them are avoiding you? Touch one drop and they’re dead,” Will said.

I stared at the bug’s carcass. “Seriously? How?”

I don’t know why you’re surprised. Crossing worlds has all kinds of unexpected effects and your blood is stronger than he thought.
Tink cackled gleefully in my head.
Oh, I like this idea. We’ll lay waste to the field.

And avenge our fallen. Killing all of them sounded like a good way to even things up. “What are you thinking?”

A smile spread across Will’s pale face, one that spoke of havoc and dead monsters. “We’re going to play with artillery.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Wait, slow down,” Uncle Mike said over the radio. “You want what, where?”

“Rocket launchers,” I said. “And personnel to fire them.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Will and I exchanged a look. “A melted dark angel and an exploded giant roach agree, Colonel. My blood is toxic to these things.”

“Okay, I’m sending a team up to you. There’s no way you could make it down here; they’re putting it to us.”

“How bad?”

“We’ve lost thirty-four men so far.” He yelled something about ammunition running short down the line. “And we’re crawling.”

“Should I come down there?”

“No, stay where you are. Let me send a team—it’ll be faster. Watch for them and clear the way if need be. If your idea works, it’ll help all of us.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

 “How’s Cruessan?”

“I’m okay, sir,” Will said. “I just needed patched up.”

“Listen,” Uncle Mike said. “Do exactly what Klimmett tells you. If that’s to sit out, you sit out, understand?”

Will made a face. “Understood, sir.” After Uncle Mike signed off, he said, “A scarred hand doesn’t bother me. Being out of the fight and watching men die does.”

I nodded. I didn’t think I could take another Lanningham on my watch today.

Jorge joined us, having killed off a huge swath of intruders. At a momentary break, while the battle raged downrange, he listened to our idea with avid interest.

“This could work,” he said, nodding. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”

A tiny spark of hope had worked its way into my chest. If this
did
work, would it work on the Shadow Man himself? Could I splatter him with a little Archer blood and end this thing?

Murphy climbed up the peak of High Dune, where we were waiting. He was toting a shoulder mounted rocket launcher. Two more soldiers trotted behind him, each carrying a load of rockets.

“This better be good, Archer,” Murphy said. “I was nice and comfy, firing useless rounds into that crowd of nightmares down in the infantry pool.”

“He makes it sound like the kiddie pool,” Blakeney said, shooting him an annoyed glance.

“I don’t think the Master Sergeant was trying to say it was a cakewalk.” I jerked my chin at Murphy. “He just likes to complain.”

“Damn right.” Murphy set down the rocket launcher. “Now what?”

“Now, I bleed.”

The two newbies eyed me warily as I stripped off my slimy jacket. It had dropped a good ten degrees since we arrived, even though we were still an hour from sunset. I shivered as the cold air hit my sweaty back. Or maybe because I was about to intentionally slice myself open.

With my knife.

“Tink, go easy,” I said. “The first time we did this, you almost killed me.”

That was an accident. And I
saved
you then—you’re the one who fell on the blade.

“Way to pass the blame.” I needed to find a place that would bleed easily, but not impede me from fighting later. Fingers and hands were out so I went with my left forearm. Holding my knife as steadily as I could manage in the rising wind, I nicked the skin right above a vein. Instantly, a big bead of blood welled up.

“Let’s poison some rockets,” I said, then tapped my earpiece. “Colonel? Tell the other wielder teams to clear the field. We’re about to test Will’s theory.”

“Done,” came his reply.

Murphy opened the case and pulled out two rockets. Blakeney took one and smeared my blood onto the warhead. Murphy did the same with the second.

“All right, let’s see what this does.”

Jorge’s smile was terrifying. “Damage. Lots of damage.”

Uncle Mike called off his own artillery units, waiting for us to fire. The shadow mass seemed to be regrouping on top of the next dune over. It was half the size it had been when we arrived.

“Eyes and ears,” Blakeney said. “Ready.”

We all moved clear and put our fingers in our ears.

“Firing!” shouted Murphy.

The rocket burst from the launcher and streaked into the shadows. There was a muffled boom, then nothing.

“It didn’t work,” I said, disappointed. We’d have to go back out there, risk more men.

“Wait—look.” Jorge pointed at the center of the mass.

Smoke was rising from it. And the shadows were wailing.

“Fire again,” I told Murphy. “Blakeney, more rockets.”

The other two soldiers hurried to help him. For the next few minutes, we found an odd rhythm. Poison a rocket with my blood, load it, fire, repeat. The wails from the dark army rose in volume.

Uncle Mike came on the radio. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. They’re coming apart out there. From what I can tell, the rocket’s impact has no effect. But every shadow hit with shrapnel starts to disintegrate right afterward. It’s like we sprayed them with acid.”

“Permission to clear the field sir,” I said, helping Murph smear another rocket.

“Fire away.”

Five minutes and twelve rockets after we started, the dunes were empty, save the smoking, scorched remains of the enemy.

We weren’t done, though. The sky had faded out to a dark gray and the sun’s light was reduced to a ten-watt glow. I was being put on notice.

“Now what?” Will asked, turning in a circle.

I wiped the blood from my arm. “The Dark Master is telling me this isn’t finished.”

The sand shifted under our feet again. I tensed, holding my knife tight. Ahead, the enemy battlefield was crumbling away. Brownish protrusions rose up out of the ground.

“Colonel? We’ve got a problem,” I said.

“We see it. Stand by.”

The protrusions kept rising slowly, sloughing off sand and monster ash in great piles. Dust filled the air, and the ground rumbled as if a dozen small earthquakes were happening all at once. After a minute, I finally realized what I was seeing—rock. Lots of it. Tink buzzed around in my head, calling out in her own language to her brothers. I sure hoped they knew what this was, because watching a mountain come out of the ground definitely wasn’t normal.

Aunt Julie and Ramirez joined us, followed soon after by Uncle Mike, Johnson and Nguyen. The rock formation had already blotted out the last of the sunlight, sending us into a premature twilight. I couldn’t make sense of it, though. It looked like a mountain, but there was a constructed feeling to it. As it rose, a dark spot began forming in the bleached-out sky directly above the structure. Not like nighttime, but an absence of all light, exactly like the Master himself. This was it. This was the final battleground.

“It’s enormous,” Aunt Julie said. “Fifty feet tall and still climbing?”

“Yeah, like a house for a giant,” Johnson said. “Make that ten giants.”

“It’s a fortress.” I turned to Jorge, my eyes wide with sudden recognition. “Right under our noses. The Shadow Man
lives
there.”

As if he heard us, a sludgy voice growled out of the dark crevices of the rock. “
You fulfilled part of the bargain, Archer. Come fulfill the rest—if you can.
”

I knew that voice; it was the soundtrack to all my nightmares. “Tink?”

Yes, it’s the walking Shadow, and he’s drawing his Master here through that disturbance overhead.
If spirits could have a stress level, hers sounded like it was at DefCon 1.
It’s time for us to move on.

I was tired after the fight, the blood loss. Dying. Moving on was the last thing on earth my body wanted to do, so it was up to my mind to make it happen. She’s in there, I thought. That’s where they’d keep Mamie—to taunt me. If he had to, the Dark Master would have the Shadow Man put her on display to make me come to them. I didn’t want to wait that long.

“Colonel, I need a small team. Keep everyone else on perimeter guard—there are a half-dozen poisoned rockets left for defense. From here I go in alone.”

“Like hell, you do,” Will barked. “I’m coming with you.”

I sighed. “You can’t. Not when you’re injured. Besides we need people to guard against threats out here, so none of the other wielders can go.”

“We can, and all five of us will go.” Jorge’s tone told me the decision was made.

“And support staff,” Blakeney said. “I’m the only one left on your crew, Archer. I’m coming with you to see this thing through.”

“Me, too,” Murphy said, glaring at me through narrowed eyes. “We’ve earned the right to watch your back.”

I threw up my hands. I was trying to keep them safe. But a small part of me was thankful. If I was going to my death, it would be good to be surrounded by friends. “Colonel, your call.”

“Are you kidding?” His laugh was hollow. “
I’m
coming with you.”

I looked at this group. I’d fought—and bled—next to every single one of them. Too many ghosts haunted my path, but today I’d walk with the living. “Fine. If we’re taking this parade full-circle, Klimmett should join us or we’ll never hear the end of it. He’s been with us since the beginning, too.”

It was only right for them to be there at the end.