Monster Hunter Legion-eARC (28 page)

I cut her off. “You are. We’ll flush it out. You’re cutting off its escape,” I lied. There was no time to screw around arguing with an obstinate Newbie. “When help comes, send them in, but I need you to
guard this door.
”

“Can do!” She saluted me, just like she’d seen on TV. Hunters don’t salute. Edward, baffled by that uncharacteristic display, did the same thing, only more awkwardly. “We’ll kill the shit out of it!”

Trip had taken cover at the corner of the door. He had point. “Ready.”

“Do it.” He swept around the corner, the brilliant beam of the Streamlight mounted on his submachine gun cutting a swath through the shadows. I followed right behind him.

Back when we were on the Amazing Newbie Squad, Trip had been a mediocre shot, with only barely passable proficiency. He’d come a long way since then, and the two of us had practiced this sort of thing hundreds of times. Now he was smooth, moving down the entryway of the nightclub crouched and quick, gun butt tucked into his shoulder, eyes flicking back and forth, ready to react instantly to any threat.

Something had gone down in here. A few lounge chairs had been flipped over. A table was broken. A picture frame had been torn off the wall. Trip came to a stop and held up one hand. He took a knee to inspect something. It was a bloody combat boot. Trip flipped it over with the long sound suppressor screwed onto the end of his gun. There was still a foot inside of it. A trail of blood droplets led away from the boot. We moved on with increased urgency.

I looked behind the bar.
Clear.
Trip stuck his flashlight inside the coat check.
Clear.
I couldn’t find a damned light switch anywhere. Trip looked at me and pointed two fingers ahead. I nodded. He moved silently onward.

There was a large opening where the lounge fed into a far bigger room. I had to blink as my vision adjusted.
Black lights.
Everything in the room that was white took on a glow. Since we were dressed in browns, greens, and grays, the only thing that stood out on us was our teeth and eyes. In the new light, I could see a white mist curling around the floor. The blood trail disappeared into it. There was a fogger running inside. Trip reached the edge, risked a quick peek, then pulled back. He signaled for me to come up and take a look.

The dance floor was huge. The interior was dome-shaped, tapering to a point at the top. There was a whole second level of catwalk, with a smaller dance area and more bars and lounges. The floor was a milky soup of glycerin fog. The illumination shifted and changed as the lights moved around above us on automated tracks. There was a hiss that made me jump, but it was coming from a nearby speaker. Music began to play, some obnoxious repetitive techno bass mix. It was deafening.

Something had just turned all these things on. That something was in here with us.

Trip thumped me in the arm to get my attention and pointed at something on the second-floor catwalk opposite of our position. There was a black figure silhouetted in the lights. I aimed my EOTech at it but held my fire because I couldn’t identify what it was. The lights shifted around on their tracks and then we could see.

“That’s Green!” Trip exclaimed.

Our fellow Hunter on the edge of the balcony, hanging over the dance floor. His arms had been extended and lashed down to the metal handrails with extension cords. His shaved head was stained red, hanging down, chin against his chest. His MHI-issued armor had been rent open in places and was soaked with blood. His legs were dangling in space. I realized with a shock that one of his feet was missing, and blood was drizzling from the stump.
What the hell had done that?

The mangled Hunter stirred, lifting his head weakly for only a moment before letting it loll forward. “He’s alive.” Green’s lips moved as he said something, but we couldn’t hear him over the music.

“We’ve got to get him.” Trip began moving, but I reached out and grabbed him by the armor.

“It’s a trap.” I pointed at the fog.

Trip had to shout in my ear to be heard over the noise. “We can’t leave him. He’s bleeding out.”

“I know.” We had to move fast. I scanned the fog. I couldn’t see anything, but there was a knot of dread in my stomach. It was waiting for us. I knew it. But if we didn’t tourniquet that leg soon, Green was done for. It might already be too late, but we had to try. There were three sets of circular stairs to the next level. Two close, one on each side, only thirty feet away. There was a third at the far end, near where Green was suspended. “Follow me. Watch the floor.”

The fog parted around our boots and drifted up to our waists. The room was unnaturally cold, but nothing came out of the floor to murder us. We reached the stairs and started climbing, but we had been so intent on something hiding on the floor that we hadn’t expected a threat to drop from the tangle of cables and scaffolding near the ceiling. I caught a glimpse of tattered fabric fluttering in the black light as it leapt from its perch. Abomination rose and I was able to fire a single round before the thing hit the stairs.

It was like having a blanket thrown over my head. I was engulfed in darkness. Multiple hard limbs swatted and thrashed around me. It might have been making a noise, I don’t know, the music was so loud I could barely hear myself. I tried to shove it away so I could turn my shotgun against it, but it threw itself against me. Something cold and metallic scraped against my face, and then jabbed hard into my neck guard, trying to pierce my throat. I lashed out, but it was like punching a sheet hanging from a clothesline. It hit me back, and beneath that snapping piece of fabric was something as hard as an iron bar.

Its momentum took us both over the railing and we fell into the fog. I hit on my side. The blanket lifted as I rolled away. My attacker went the opposite direction.

Trip was still on the stairs, gun raised, searching for a shot, but it was already gone. “Go save Green!” I bellowed. I came up with Abomination in one hand, flashlight cutting through the mist. Something shifted just ahead of me and I cranked off a round of buckshot in its direction. “Go!”

Trip probably hadn’t heard me, but he caught the gist. He leapt up the stairs three at a time, heading for our dying Hunter.

The music was thumping with electronic beats. Whatever was here with me was low to the ground, completely covered by the fog, but I knew it was circling, looking for an angle of attack. I took a step backward and collided with the stairs. The mist shifted and I fired again. It was moving with frightening speed. I briefly caught sight of two black points rising and falling, like the elbows of somebody scurrying along on their belly, but then I lost track of it completely.

I had to get out of this fog. I went around the railing, got one boot on the bottom step, but then it came out of nowhere and hit me again.
So fast.
I was jabbed in the lower back, but the point didn’t penetrate my armor. I swung around to shoot but it latched on and pulled me down. The next thing I knew I was sliding along the floor on my back. It came around and was on top of me in a flash of black and glowing white streaks. It was like a collection of ratty blankets draped over a coat rack. One limb rose above the fog, spindly white fingers curled around the handle of a jagged knife. It stabbed downward but I was just able to get my armored forearm up in time to knock it away from my face. The knife rose and fell, ripping and slicing, trying desperately to pierce my armor, seeking my flesh.

The fabric puckered and flexed as bullets struck the creature. The lump of a head turned up and away from me. A round struck something solid beneath the rags and I felt the vibration. The thing leapt effortlessly away and drifted back into the mist, rags fluttering. It disappeared before I could get Abomination around. I looked over to see Trip halfway down the second-floor catwalk. The suppressed subgun didn’t make enough noise to be heard over the music but I could see a match flicker of light at the muzzle and the brief glint of ejected brass. Trip had just saved my life. I got up as he kept firing into the mist behind me. Trip lost sight of his target, snarled in frustration, and started running toward Green again.

Stupid fog.
I moved toward the stairs. It was still out there, waiting. I couldn’t hear its approach over the music. I couldn’t see a damn thing. I was like a swimmer bobbing on the surface of the ocean being circled by a great white shark. I caught the flash of reflected light out of the corner of my eye just in time to duck to the side. The thrown knife spun past where my head had been. I fired repeatedly, spacing the shots about a foot apart, hoping to clip the damned thing.

The stairs were right there. I got on them and made it out of the mist. I climbed as fast as I could until the fog was several steps below me. I was breathing hard, and the sudden heat on my cheek told me I’d been cut. There was still no sign of the threat. I risked a glance at Trip. He’d untied Green and was lifting him over the railing. I looked back just in time to see a chain come sailing out of the mist.

It struck me in the calf and wrapped around my legs like it had a mind of its own. There was a sudden jerk as the chain pulled tight and my feet came out from under me. Falling, I crashed hard against the stairs. It dragged me down.
Thump thump thump.
I managed to get my left hand onto one of the steps and clung to it for dear life. The chain jerked hard. It pulled me off the stairs and my fingers burned as I struggled to hold on. Crying out in pain, I could feel the chain fraying through my armor. I lifted Abomination with one hand, pointed it down the length of chain, and fired wildly until my shotgun was empty.

The chain unclenched, fell away, and zipped back into the fog, as fast as it had come. “What are you?” I shouted uselessly.

The creature lifted itself completely out of the fog for the first time. At first it was simply a black rectangle, but as the lights shifted I could see it was shaped like a man. Incredibly tall and thin, contorted and spindly. I couldn’t see much else of its actual form, since its body was entirely wrapped in dirty rags hanging in strips. The white bits of fabric glowed under the black lights but most of it was sick and dirty.

It lifted its arms from inside the folds of its body. One drew a butcher’s knife. The other was holding a meat cleaver. Another pair of arms rose beneath that, this pair holding a box cutter and a pair of rusty scissors. The hood lifted, revealing a white pillowcase stretched tight over what could only be a skull. The mouth was a slit. The eye holes were filled with blue fire.

My STI cleared the holster and I opened fire.

The ragged man jerked and flinched as the bullets struck. There was a flash of metal and the chain erupted from the skull like the tongue of a frog. It snagged my forearm, wrapped around my wrist, and pulled taut. The muzzle of my gun was yanked to the side as the razor edge of the chain cut my armor. The chain tugged and it began to reel me back toward its demonic visage. The pair of scissors began to open and close rhythmically.

The chain sparked as a bullet struck it. The creature flinched and my wrist was freed. The chain snapped back into the monster’s mouth hole like a retractable tape measure. The monster stumbled back, seemingly in pain. Seeing my chance, I jumped off the stairs, moved right between the four deadly arms, drove the muzzle of my .45 deep into one of the fiery eye holes, jerked the trigger and blew the back of its head off.

Flecks of stuffing floated in the air. The body fell silently, almost gently. The fog parted around it and the pile of rag-wrapped bones and metal implements landed in a disorganized heap. The blue fire winked out of existence. The back of its hood was split open and rather than brains, ragged chunks of bloody fabric fluff rolled across the floor. A fluid that glowed under the black lights came spilling out from every seam, soaked into the rags, and formed a puddle.

I stood over it, waiting, bleeding but breathing, keeping it covered, but it didn’t so much as twitch. But just to be sure I pulled out my lighter and set the rags on fire. The flames spread greedily. The glowing goo was extremely flammable. I reloaded my guns as the fire consumed the body. “Whatever you were, you’re dead now…Asshole.”

The music stopped abruptly. “Up here!” Trip shouted. He was behind the DJ station on the second floor. He messed with something else and the normal lights came on with a blinding pop.

“Dude, that was an amazing shot. I can’t believe you hit that chain all the way from over there!”

“I could barely see anything. I just hosed him and got lucky.” Further proof that Trip must be living right. He was far too honest. I wouldn’t have said anything and just let him think that I was that awesome.

The cuts on my forearm and calf burned, but they weren’t bleeding too badly. Addressing them could wait a minute. Thank goodness for Kevlar. I limped up the stairs and made my way down the walkway. Trip had dragged Green onto one of the lounge couches and put a tourniquet around his leg. All Hunters keep a few of those in our kits. When you run into as many different things that can remove limbs as we do, you’d be stupid not to.

The blood loss had slowed to the rate of a mildly drippy faucet. The half of Green’s face that wasn’t covered in blood was deathly pale. Trip opened his med pouch and pulled out a pressure bandage. He gently lifted the shredded remains of Green’s armor and revealed the terrible injury beneath.

Green moaned when the bandages touched him. “He sawed my foot off.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“We know.” Trip knelt next to him. “It’s okay, man. We got it. You’re going to be fine.”

“Where’s your partner?” I didn’t even know who Green had been patrolling with.

“Gone…Dead…Ragman got him.”

“Ragman?”

“Listen…” Green reached out and touched Trip’s arm. “He was my first monster. In San Diego. Serial killer. Sold his soul…Turned into
that.
I killed him years ago…” Green coughed hard. “Guess he wasn’t done with me yet.” He coughed again, wheezed, then passed out. I checked his pulse. It wasn’t good.

Another horror dredged from the back of someone’s mind and set free. Hugo’s last word had been
Nachtmar
. It was looking like
nightmare
was a good name for what we were up against.