The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (46 page)

“Yeah.” Tiny turned his eyes on him.

“I hope he don’t kill her,” Driver said
wistfully. “We had enough bad luck.” Then he frowned. “How do you
know he won’t?”

“We made a deal.” Tiny smiled. “Felon talked
to Lucifer, and I couldn’t hear a word. Though they seem quite easy
with each other like old friends. And then when the bastard was
getting his gear together he yells at me,

‘Barter what you have.’”

“What’s that mean?” Driver downed half his
beer.

“Well, Felon said that nun’s one of the Tower
Builders, right?” Tiny flicked ash. “
And
the Marquis and
this
Balg guy
were trying to kidnap her?”

“Uh huh,” Driver said, seeing now that even
Bloody was listening.

“Well, I figure that we could return her for
a reward, and look like heroes, or ransom her back.” Tiny looked
smug.

“To who?” The Texan scowled. “It ain’t like
we’re the Salvation Army.”

“I think the Prime,” Tiny said after a
moment’s thought. “He’s got the most to gain at getting her back,
and he’s got the money.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Driver growled and
lit another cigarette. “What’s to stop him from just shooting us
down and taking her?”

Tiny pointed a bony finger at his own chest
and smiled. “You’re looking at him. I’ll work the deal.” Then his
eyes went urgent. “Besides, with the money we’re getting paid from
Felon. Can you imagine if we could get pardons? Retire?” Then he
slapped the table. “Or what if I can work a deal, get us jobs with
the Prime? Guys like that always need protection.”

“Well,” Driver nodded, and studied the action
in the parking lot. Felon was standing in front of the Nova. His
gun was out and pointed at the Angel. “Lord, that man…” And then
the bright flashes of gunfire.

“Jesus!” Tiny turned at the sound. They
clambered in their seats to see the Angel taking the bullets in the
face and chest.

“The Marquis!” Driver breathed as he got to
his feet.

As Felon fired a full clip the Marquis’ shape
shifted and changed. One moment it was the old transvestite, the
next they saw a ghostly man-shape, taller than Felon and with
wings. And it glowed. What was left of the Marquis suddenly drooped
and fell back over the hood of the Nova. Steam or smoke lifted from
the body.

“He
is
an Angel!” Tiny looked at
Driver.

“My paintjob!” the Texan grumbled.

Behind the assassin harbor lights glittered a
half mile off.

“Something’s wrong!” Tiny leapt to his
feet.

Driver was already sliding out of the booth.
They ran, pushed through the doors. The other diners watched and
smoked without interest.

The Texan’s adrenaline awareness picked up
Bloody’s form following. Driver had both .9 mm’s out held high. He
saw that Felon had moved away from the Nova, and he was no longer
alone. A group of figures struggled with him, had hold of his arms.
The assassin’s gun clicked six loud pieces of night—empty from all
his Angel killing.

Driver contemplated firing into the group to
distract them. But the chances of hitting Felon were too big. He
wasted a bullet in the air, leveled both guns and kept running.
Tiny yelled something, circled toward the passenger side of the
car. Driver could just see a bit of red from Lucky’s sign highlight
the nun’s smooth cheek. The whole area around the car was
wet—footprints ran everywhere. The fighting jumble of bodies had
backed another ten yards away from the car and the light, and had
moved toward the curb where the road ran by. They stopped.

Even in the twilit parking lot, Driver could
see that it was a gang of naked men and women—but ugly fuckers:
various sizes and every one of them as white as a fish. The Texan
decided to hedge his bets, and fired into the gut of a big one. A
shiver went over Driver’s scalp.

The bullets impacted. The man slapped at his
belly as though he was full of bees, and started coming toward him.
Driver pulled up short. Over his shoulder, Bloody’s big gun roared
twice. The first bullet knocked the advancing fat man’s arm off his
shoulder, left it hanging there by shreds, the second made a
volcano of his skull. But the bastard kept coming on—blindly
swinging his remaining arm!
Dead
! Past the flailing dead man
Driver could make out the others crouched around something. Bloody
appeared beside him, they both fired into the fat man chopping him
to pieces in a nasty wet pink cloud.

Driver tried to draw a bead on another, just
in time to see the last of them slip through the ground.
What
the
! “Come on Bloody, some more crazy shit!” The Texan ran
ahead, minding his step on the slimy asphalt. He leapt over the
still quivering corpse, and hit his knees near the curb. A manhole
was open at the juncture of the street and the sidewalk. Water
covered the street. Cautiously, guns level with his eyes Driver
took a quick peek into the darkness. Noises echoed up from the
depths, distant watery bongs and splashes. He moved away from the
manhole.

“Well, if that don’t shake it.” Driver looked
into Bloody’s dispassionate face. “Looks like Felon got himself
kidnapped.” He turned to see the salesman running to catch up.

“The nun’s okay.” Tiny stopped at the
twitching body. “Just scared—Jesus Christ! What in hell are these
goddamned things?” He pointed at the corpse with his gun.

Driver walked over. “I don’t know, but his
friends took Felon down that sewer.” He looked at the splattered
corpse. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Bloody reload his
gun.

There was a lot of milky liquid on the ground
around the body. The corpse was white-skinned, and the exposed
muscle was gray. The Texan stepped on its tapping fingers. Where
the body cavity had opened up, he could see that the organs looked
fresh, but bloated and pale like over-boiled sausage.

“Jesus! It was dead before we met it.” He
looked toward the manhole.

“I heard stories.” Tiny inspected the
creature, pushing at its flesh with his gun barrel. “Things like
that out in the water, in the Sunken City and down in the sewers.
Cannibals!”

“Should we go fetch him?” Driver looked to
Tiny. The salesman walked over to the manhole, looked into its
blackness.

“I just said
cannibals
.” Tiny took out
a cigarette, lit it. “Felon can take care of himself.” He shrugged.
“If he can’t, he’s dead already.”

“But how we going to get paid?” Driver looked
at Bloody.

Tiny pointed back at the Nova. “We got the
nun.” He slapped the Texan’s shoulder. “See, old Lucifer was right.
We get to barter what we have.” He smiled and started toward the
car. “Bloody, my plan will be uncomfortable for you but you’re
going like it. It’s fucking fate.”

“Uncomfortable?” Driver looked over at
Bloody. “Angels and Demons,” he said and laughed. “Now we got Fate
to deal with…” He lit a cigarette. “I hope we run across a bit of
luck in the process.”

64 – Experiments

Dawn couldn’t sleep. She had tossed and
turned but there was too much going on in her head and Nursie’s big
face was waiting for her every time she shut her eyes. What
was
Nursie? And what was a
First-mother
?

She knew they were talking about her, but
mothers were grownups and Dawn was a forever girl. It seemed like
everyone but her knew what was going on. And what were the clothes
in the box all about? She’d thrown it under the bed like it was hot
to the touch. Another shiver ran through her as she thought of
Nursie, and she pulled her covers up tight to her chin. Where was
Mr. Jay?

The other forever kids were settling into
sleep all around her. The noises they made relaxed her and might
have helped her sleep, or been funny in other circumstances.
Bedtime was always fun back in Nurserywood when the kids settled
down after Arthur told his stories. They farted and giggled before
drifting off to dreams.

She was more and more wishing she’d behaved,
and not followed Mr. Jay. They’d visited Nurserywood as they did
from time to time. The magician called it an intermission. He liked
to sit and talk with Arthur the giant. And Dawn loved visiting with
the other forever kids. But the last time, Mr. Jay wanted her to
stay behind because he had to go somewhere important and he had to
go alone. But his look worried Dawn so much she snuck out after
him. When she caught up to him far from Nurserywood, she’d never
seen him angry before. Finally, he calmed and brought her along. “I
should have known better, little shadow,” he’d said.

But that was too long ago to help and
listening to the settling in noises did make her think about sleep
if they couldn’t stop her from thinking about everything else. Meg
claimed the Doctor put something in the food so the kids could
sleep—and something to help them keep calm because they were all a
bit crazy from their unusual lives.

And Dawn had to admit that maybe something
like that was going on because she had managed to drop off to sleep
quickly each night. Tonight she had hardly eaten because of all the
worry though. She thought and listened for a while longer and then
for only a minute, it seemed she was caught up in a cozy warm swirl
of sleep.

Then the grownup voice in her head whispered:
Something moving
!
Coming this way
!

And Dawn opened her eyes and listened.
Nothing at first, and then she caught the sound of something—yes, a
quiet rustle like cloth or material moving and the quiet whooshing
sound of something sliding over something else—maybe shoes.

And she immediately thought of Nursie. Was
the awful creature coming to spirit her away? And then she wondered
where Meg was, and listened closely, and heard her friend’s quiet
breathing on the next bed.

Listen
, said the grownup voice in her
head.
It’s getting closer
.

And Dawn tensed up in the bed, her knuckles
clenched painfully in the sheets. “Oh Mr. Jay,” she whispered to
herself. “Where are you?”

But the question was barely spoken before a
dark shape moved beside the bed, and then shifted into the dim back
light of the dormitory nightlights.

“Please,” a voice hissed. Dawn saw it was the
Doctor, face slick with sweat. “I’ve got to get you somewhere you
safe.” He cast nervous looks left and right. “Nursie is
coming!”

And Dawn’s whole body went rigid at mention
of the name.

The Doctor pulled her covers back and grabbed
her arm. She winced when his fingers dug into the area he’d already
bruised that day.

“Hurry,” he hissed. “Power is shifting.
She’ll kill us both!” And he caught Dawn’s nervous look at Meg.
“Don’t worry about your friends,” the Doctor said. “Nursie’s not
interested in them tonight.”

And Dawn’s grown up voice was silent, even
though she listened for it. Perhaps it was thinking and gauging the
situation. Dawn slipped out of bed at the man’s urging and put her
slippers on. The whole time the Doctor moved and shifted foot to
foot quite nervously. His hand was soaking her arm with sweat, and
his fingers twisted spasmodically.

“Hurry,” he said, teeth chattering and in
moments they were away—moving quickly between the beds away from
the main entrance. Instead, he led her through a door to a kitchen
and preparation room used only by their workers.

Dawn thought it was strange passing by them
where they sat against the wall in chairs just watching. But it was
clear to her that they would not interfere with the affairs of the
living: especially the doctor’s business.

They passed through the kitchen. It was dim
with low-watt emergency lights—and they came to another door where
the Doctor fumbled keys out of his pocket and unlocked it. And they
were out in the brightly lit hall and moving quickly over the
tiles. It was all dark and so new to her that Dawn could barely
tell where they were going.

“You see,” the Doctor said, sweat shone on
his forehead, “I couldn’t let this happen.” He shook his head, hand
now twisted in the material of her nightshirt. “See, I’m a doctor.”
He stopped at a door and paused to unlock it. “And I have a
Hippocratic oath and I joined the Prime before he set up the
Orphanage in the Tower—before when I worked for Authority.”

He led Dawn through the door and past a
curious set of metal tables and instruments. “And I was helping
kids, and doing things for kids…”

He nodded and his hands trembled. “Only
until,” he said and paused at a heavy steel door covered with
rivets, “I came here and saw what the Prime was doing and he can
speak…oh he’s convincing. And he outlined his vision for me and I
understood.” The Doctor worked a multiple lock with his keys. “And
it looked so
right
in the early days.”

The Doctor paused with his hand on the door.
“That was before the Prime wanted to know what made you little
people tick—before he had me do
things
—experiments.” The man
shook and his hands trembled. “I’m a doctor and I refused…” he
nodded idiotically. “Until he showed me what he could do if I did
not help him…” The doctor leaned in close. “He has Powers—worse
than death. I know death; I’m a doctor. But this is worse.” His
eyes gleamed. “So I helped him.” The Doctor balled up a fist and
punched it into his temple, held it there as though he had to push
to keep his head from exploding. He sniggered, “And the Principal
is quite persuasive too—he helped expand my horizons.”

The he sighed and dropped his fist. “I found
a way to do his experiments.” He nodded. “And soon I developed some
of my own.” He started pushing the door aside. “Can you keep a
secret?” The Doctor’s breath smelled like chemicals. “Going crazy
really helped.”

The Doctor pushed the door open and pulled
her in. The lights were out. She heard water bubbling, and an
electrical hum. “You’re the First-mother after all.” And he turned
the light on.