Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

            Inhaling clean air through the helmet’s filter, I'm happy that I never took the time to remove my head protection before I began this battle.  I know I'll have to lose it eventually once I decide to stop fighting the Dark Hunger's pull, but for now I can enjoy the delicious, filtered air it gives me instead of the rank, smoke-infused nastiness that is beginning to swirl around me.  Plus, the helmet's darkened eyeshield might serve to be a bit more intimidating than the grinning face of a sixteen year-old Hispanic girl.  I've seen enough movies to know that a faceless foe can be unsettling.  Let's hope that remains true tonight.

            Noticing the men down the street getting into firing positions behind their cars wrenches my attention away from the daydream I had been giving in to, and refocuses me on the matter at hand:  bettering the twenty-five-to-one odds I'm currently facing. 

            Knowing I only have a few more good pulls on my energy before I have to break down and sacrifice an opponent as a snack, I choose my next actions carefully.  I need to get to them as quickly as possible without them shooting me down, and there is only one logical way for me to make that happen.

            Dropping into a sprinter's stance, I pull on the Darkness and embrace its violent caress as the blood pumps through my veins.  The cold burn as it floods my system is euphoric, and the sudden loss of all sound and wind in the immediate area lets me know that I am now traveling faster than anything around me.  Releasing myself from the stance and tearing forward as fast as I can, I watch as the world comes to a standstill.  It doesn't matter how many times I use my adrenaline to move this fast, it amazes me every time.

            As I sprint down the stretch of road towards my awaiting foes, I watch as one gun after another blooms its orange blossom of death and spits out a leaden seed towards where I had been standing mere moments before.  Running forward, I watch as the bullets move past me and listen as they
chink
into the pavement and chew up the ground that I so recently vacated.  Even moving at my speed, the bullets are traveling fast enough to scare me.  I can see them coming and dodge them, but it doesn't stop the experience from being frightening.  Any one of these little, humming, metal bumblebees could tear a hole in me that an infusion of blood might not be able to fix in time.  That's something I can’t forget.

            Moving along the empty street towards the men, I notice a small chunk of pavement that got torn up when one of the SUV's rolled over it, and I divert my course slightly so that my path will intersect it.  Without breaking stride or momentum, I dive at the ripped up hole and scoop up several of the jagged chunks into my arms before curling into a ball and rolling for several feet.  Springing up, I continue sprinting towards the men with my new-found treasures now cradled in my arms.

            Looking for whichever men are least protected by the iron frames of the vehicles, I begin zinging the asphalt chunks at them while I run in an attempt to thin the numbers before my arrival.  I manage to get off eight solid throws before I close the distance with the first man, and six of the chunks hit where I had intended.  Five of the men I hit drop like boxers who have just taken an unexpected uppercut to the jaw, and the sixth man stumbles backward dropping his gun but managing to keep his feet under him. 

            Five and a half down.  Nineteen more to go.

            The man closest to me has made the mistake of using his car's open door to protect himself, and I use that to my advantage.  Leaping through the air as I approach, I smash against the car door with my feet and ride it as it swings closed crushing the man against the car's frame.  Grabbing the gun he had been holding as his fingers release it, I carry it with me as I push off the car door and over the open space in the road separating his car from the next closest.

            Seven down.

            The guy I aim for isn't behind a car door; he’s just standing against the dark blue sedan's passenger side with his weapon still aimed down the street where I had been standing originally.  Using my helmeted head as a battering ram I smash the bridge of his nose with the hard plastic encasing my cranium as I crash against his body.  He slides down the side of the car without a word, and I relieve him of his rifle before he hits the ground.

            Eight are now removed from the battle.  Seventeen remain standing and needing my attention.

            With a rifle clutched in each hand, I step out into the clearing between the four vehicles and begin firing.  Doing my best to use controlled bursts so that the rifles don't jump too much and ruin my aim, I methodically move from one man to the next firing rounds into each thug's legs and feet (It appears most are wearing armored vests so body shots would be useless, plus if I can avoid killing them, I will.).  Using the last of my energy to keep time to a trickle and improve my aim, I manage to drop six men before they even realize they are being fired upon. 

            Fourteen down.  Eleven more to go.

            The Hunger isn't happy with me as I continue to push myself without giving it any more sustenance.  I know I can't keep up this pace indefinitely, but I can at least get through a few more before relinquishing control.

            The men around me are screaming and moaning and blood is everywhere on the street and on the cars and all over the front of my clothes.  It looks like the bloodbath they had intended to create, but not with the victim they had anticipated.  And if it wasn't for my helmet blocking out the delicious scent of blood all around me, then there'd be no way I'd be able to quell the Hunger's control.  With the helmet's filters in place, I can see the enticing red liquid around me, but I'm able to ignore its pull for just a bit longer.

            Stepping over to one of the downed men's bodies, I tug his rifle free of his grip and check to make sure that it still has a relatively full clip.  It does.  Ignoring the ache in my gut as best I can, I jump up onto the nearest car to improve my line of sight and begin systematically hunting the remaining men around me.  Even without the Hunger's adrenaline push, I am faster
and
a better shot than them.  And I'm angry.  And anger is a much better motivator than simple greed.  Or whatever other twisted vice is powering them.

            Two men pop up from behind a car on the far side of the street and try to outgun me.  I can't see their legs for a clear shot, so I go for their chest and hope they're wearing strong enough vests.  I drop both of them before they even get their guns clear of the car's trunk.  One
whumps
backwards flailing his arms and screaming, and the other's chest explodes in a spray of blood that surprises me.  I guess only one was wearing a vest.  The severity of what I've just done tries to creep up on me, but I shake it away before it can grab hold.  I did what was necessary.  It wasn't my fault.

            Sixteen men have gone down.  Only nine left.

            Three more men attempt to surprise me by coming out from behind hiding places and firing at me.  Only one of them actually manages to get shots off, and they all go wide.  I drop the first two with shots to their knees and the third takes a short burst of rounds to his right arm which gets chewed up like it went through a woodchipper.  Hopefully it isn't enough to kill him, but I doubt he'll ever hold a fork with that hand again.

            Nineteen down, and only six more to find.

            The Hunger is tearing at my guts in frustration now, but I don't want to give in until I've found the last guy.  If I stop to feed and one of them walks up and puts a bullet in my brain, then I'll never be able to get to Leyna and help her.  The Hunger will just have to wait.  Unfortunately, it isn't really something I can negotiate with.

            Turning away from my latest victim, I see another guy trying to crawl into an alley between two buildings, and I raise my gun to take him down.  As I do, my pocket begins to click repeatedly startling me and throwing off my aim.  The gun’s blasts go wide and chew up the wall next to the man's head.  He yelps loudly and ducks and rolls into the alley and out of my line of site.

           
Damn it, Ren!
I curse silently to myself. 
You have the worst timing
.  He'll just have to wait for now.  I only need a few more moments to finish this, and then we can chat. 

            "In a moment, Ren," I tell him in a strained voice as I fight the Hunger's pull.  "Almost done."

            I didn't see a gun on the alley guy, so I'm hoping he was just making a run for home and I can count him out of the battle.  That leaves me only five more.

            The street isn't big enough for them to have gone far, so I turn slowly in a circle looking for where they might have squirreled themselves away.  As I spin, my pocket erupts into a flurry of clicks again drawing my attention to it.

           
Ren
, I think. 
You're getting annoying right now
.  Looking down at my pocket and fighting through the haze that is beginning to fill my vision from the Hunger, I hear the whine of bullets puncture the air around me.  Somebody has decided to take potshots at me while I'm distracted.

            Turning to face the direction of where I can best guess the shots came from, I see two men peeking over the hood of one of the overturned SUV's with their rifles pointed at me.  I don't know if these two are part of the final five I was searching for or two more players entering the game.  It's getting hard to concentrate, and there's no easy way to tell one thug apart from the others.

            The men fire again and their bullets tear the atmosphere around me making horrible little burning sounds as they pass by me faster than the speed of sound.  They haven't hit me yet, but I think it is more their lack of skill rather than my abundance of it.  I've been lucky so far, but they won't keep missing for long.

            Bringing my rifle up, I notice that I don't have a clear shot at their legs at all.  Or their bodies.  All I can see of them is their black rifles and their faces scowling at me through the shimmering hot air over the black dented frame of the overturned vehicle.  I have no way to wound these men and let them live.

            Sensing another barrage of bullets coming, the Hunger's haze prevents me from overthinking the situation, and I quickly aim and pull the trigger.  Two bursts from my rifle and both men drop in a stereo explosion of fine red mist.  The dull ache of the Hunger deadens the blow of what I've just done and soothes me. 

           
It was necessary
, it tells me. 
You've done nothing wrong
.

            I know I can't trust what it's telling me, but the words feel so comforting.  So right.  Death is not my enemy here.  It is my ally.

            My pocket buzzes again, and I break free of my reverie.  The Darkness eases back in my mind, but only by inches.

            Flipping on my phone's speaker, I yell, "What is it Ren?  What can't wait until I'm done here?"

            "It's Chadwick, Cat," he rasps at me like he's the one that's been fighting off the Darkness for the last several minutes.  "It's him."

            Confused by his sudden mention of the man I had sworn to forget and move on from, I ask, "What's him, Ren?  What about him?"

            "Cat," he says my name and it comes out as almost a whimper.  "That's who Leyna is going to see.  The guy she's been talking to is Chadwick Morrin."

CHAPTER FORTY

            It turns out
knowing how to drive
and actually
being able to drive
are two different things all together.  With my beloved Zero a twisted, ruined hunk of metal impregnated into the back of a burning and overturned cartel-owned SUV, I am forced to find another way to travel to get to Ren as quickly as possible.  Being on the other side of the city and suffering from the shakes due to the Hunger's impending coup over my facilities means running is out of the question.  That leaves carjacking one of the vehicles they had brought to participate in my destruction (Although is it 'carjacking' if I didn't have to actually pull anyone out of it?  They had already willingly left the car.  I just had to jump in and floor the accelerator.  Plus, I have no desire to keep it.  Let's settle for 'aggressive borrowing' instead.).

            I've been driving the Zero for months now, but I've never been behind the wheel of a car.  I figure the theory for both is the same, and I
have
played video games.  How hard can it be?

            Turns out the answer is “plenty challenging”.  With the Zero, I've gotten used to accelerating with my hands and shifting with my toes.  With this super-tuned American muscle car that they brought, that background isn't helping me.  Using my feet to accelerate and brake instead of my hand grips takes getting used to, plus every tap of the gas pedal causes the two-ton behemoth to growl and lurch like it wants to angrily consume the asphalt.  This beast
wants
to go fast, and it seems mad at for me not giving it what it wants.

            And I would give in to the mechanical beast's pull except for the fact that the Dark Hunger still keeps tugging at me.  Little black spots keep dancing into my vision as my gut clenches and flexes in an attempt to get at the rich, red fluid it so desperately needs.  I've put it off too long.  I negotiated for more time thinking I just needed to make it until I had disposed of the cartel goons, but I was wrong.  I need to make it to Leyna, now.  But I have nothing left to offer the Hunger, and it senses my dearth of offerings.  I'm running out of time.

            I should have pulled one of the thugs into the car with me so that I could have used him to sustain me and put off my impending loss of control, but I wasn't thinking about that when I left.  I just had to get to my sister.

            Looking down at my blood splattered clothes while I drive, I consider pulling off the helmet and sucking the nutrients out of the liquid that has been absorbed into the fabric.  Not a bad idea, but what if it isn't enough?  What if it is only enough to get the Hunger started, and then it takes over and I don't make it to Leyna in time?  That's not something I can risk.

            Through sheer painful exertion of my willpower, I push the dark spots away from my vision and ask Ren for clarification one more time on what he's learned so far.  I know he has already told me once, but my fight to remain in control of my consciousness has proven to be more than a little distracting.

            "Are you alright, Cat?"  He asks with genuine concern in his voice.  It's more emotion than he normally shows me.  "I never repeat information with you.  What's going on?"

            "Ren," I say deliberately and slowly.  "I am way past when I should have fed, and I'm doing all I can to stay in control of my body and not give up who’s running the show in here.  But I don't know how much longer I can do it."  I swallow and breathe deeply in an attempt to calm myself before continuing.  "Where is she?  What can you tell me?"

            His response is just silence for a moment, and I don't know if that is because he's verifying information or trying to digest what I've just told him.  "Ren?"  I finally get up the nerve to ask after letting the silence stretch further than I thought my sanity could handle.  "Speak to me."

            "We'll find her Cat," he says in a subdued voice.  "Chadwick never powered off her phone so I've been able to track it.  I was waiting to see where they were going," he says and pauses.  "Turn right at the next major light and go west.  They're in the industrial district not too far from here.  I thought he was bringing her here at first, but apparently he’s headed to a different warehouse."  He stops talking for a moment, and I can hear the soft clacking of keys in the background.  "I'll see what I can find out about it.  You should be there in about ten minutes."  Another pause, but this one doesn't bring with it the gentle rat-a-tat of keyboard clicks.  "At least as long as you don't get in an accident or pulled over before then.  How fast are you going, Cat?"

            Glancing down at my speedometer for only a moment, and then wrenching the wheel to one side to avoid a slower moving truck in the left lane, I tell him, "Somewhere north of eighty, but that's only because traffic is a bit heavy here.  I'll make up time in a moment."

            "Geezus, Cat," he whistles at me.  "Don't get yourself killed getting to her.  That won't help anybody."

            Laughing against the pain, I tell him, "I'm not dying tonight, Ren.  That's not in the cards.  Somebody might die at the warehouse, but it sure as hell won't be me.  I can promise you that (And I'm sorry madre for my language.  It's the Darkness.  It's eating at my mind with every moment I don't feed it.)."

            "Ok, I believe you," he says in a quiet voice.  "But let's still be safe, ok?"

            "Fine," I growl at him.  "I'll be safe.  Thanks for thinking of me.  Now how did you find out it was Chadwick?"  I say changing the subject.  "How are you so sure?"

            "He wanted us to find out, Cat," he begins.  "He didn't even hide his footprints.  You told me earlier to find your sister, so I immediately started tracking her phone and located her.  Wasn't hard at all.  I just kept my eye on it, and I figured I'd watch to see where she went and relay the information after your confrontation with the cartel hoods.  You know, the confrontation that you seemed so suicidally intent on pursuing.  Regardless of what wiser heads might have been saying to you."

            "Not now, Ren," I hiss at him.  "Time and place, buddy.  Time and place."

            "I know," he tells me.  "But if you'd left immediately like I'd said, then you wouldn't be having the hunger issue and you'd be closer to him.  That's all I'm saying."

            "Christ, Ren!"  I holler at him.  "You really think now is the appropriate time for an 'I told you so' moment?"  The exertion of yelling causes the black spots to become swirls that twist in and out of my vision, and I have to concentrate on just breathing for a moment.  "Think about it.  If I had run earlier, then they would have chased me.  Maybe I get away or maybe I don't.  But I couldn't risk leading them to Leyna when I thought she was just out with some older creep.  I was trying to save her, Ren, not bring down a horde of death with me.  Stopping them at the time seemed like the most logical option."

            "Plus, you wanted to," he says quietly, but I don't dignify the remark with an answer.  It's not worth the energy.

            "Chadwick?" I prompt.

            "Yeah, him," he continues.  "While I was waiting for you and tracking her, I decided to see what I could find out about this creeper guy she had been going out with.  Accessing her phone records, I was able to figure out what number had been used to contact her, and from there I started digging to see what I could come up with.  And I found out that the guy she had been talking to all this time is
our
Chadwick.

            "What?"  I ask a bit skeptically.  "You mean he had registered the phone in his own name?  How come it didn't show up before when we searched for him?"

            "Well, no.  He didn't make it that easy.  He's still too smart for that."

            "So, help me out here, Ren.  I don't have enough mental processing power left to play mind games.  How'd you figure out it was him?"

            "The address he was using for the phone account, Cat.  The name was registered to a Jacob Joodis, but it was his address that got my attention.  Jacob lived at 187 Chadwick Way in some fictional place called Morrinton.  He put his name right there for us to find, but I never would have thought to search for him like that.  He
wants
us to know he's involved, but he wasn't going to reveal himself until the right time."  I can hear Ren pause to consider his own words before he continues.  "He's a bastard, Cat, but he's a brilliant one.  Oh, and there's more."

            "More than that?  What else is there?  What more can there possibly be?"

            "He set up this account the day after he disappeared.  And after going through your sister's computer logs, or at least what I can get into from here, it appears he made contact with her for the first time less than a week after that."

            "What?"  I mumble.  "What does that mean?"

            "It means he's been planning out whatever's going to happen tonight for a long time.  He's way ahead of us on this one.  I'm sorry."

            "Don't be," I tell him.  "I don't care how much time he's had to prepare.  There is no preparation for what I'm bringing with me.  This ends tonight."