Pegasus and the New Olympians (19 page)

‘I should like to try that,’ Paelen said excitedly to Joel.

‘Me too,’ Frankie agreed. ‘I’ve always wanted to do it. But John says it’s too expensive.’

‘That is not a problem for us,’ Paelen boasted.

‘So can we try it later?’ Frankie asked.

Paelen grinned. ‘Why not?’

Paelen, Joel and Frankie paid little attention to where they were going as they toured along the bright street through the dense crowds. The sights around them were mad and exciting. Sounds and lights overwhelmed their senses. Time itself seemed to stop as they visited one casino after another, each more exciting and extravagant than the one before.

‘I really hope Jupiter does not destroy this place,’ Paelen said as they stood and watched a street performer doing magic tricks. ‘That would be a tragedy.’

‘It would,’ Joel agreed.

As the magician finished his act and the crowds dispersed, Paelen became aware of a group of young men staring at them and moving closer. Something about their expressions and manner disturbed him. ‘Come, Frankie,’ Paelen said quickly, catching Frankie by the arm. ‘Let us keep moving.’

‘Not so fast, Runt!’ one of the men called as he and his men ran to surround them. ‘The boss wants to talk to you.’

‘Hey,’ Joel shot as he was shoved closer to Paelen. ‘Back off !’

The dense crowds around them were completely unaware of what was happening as the men pulled out weapons and shoved them into Paelen and Joel’s back.

‘Keep it cool and no one gets hurt,’ the greasy-haired leader of the group said discreetly. ‘Just come this way. The boss is waiting for you.’

‘What boss?’ Paelen demanded. ‘We do not know any boss and we are not going anywhere with you.’ He tensed to fight, but then saw one of the men press the barrel of his gun deep into Frankie’s back.

‘Paelen,’ Frankie whimpered softly, ‘they’ve got guns …’

‘We ain’t foolin’ around here, Runt. Now get moving!’

Paelen looked over to Joel. His friend was also preparing to fight. ‘No!’ He indicated the weapon on Frankie. ‘Let us go with them and see what they want.’

Putting his arm around Frankie, Paelen faced the greasy-haired man. ‘Release this boy. He is only a child and must have nothing to do with this.’

The leader shook his head. ‘The boss said bring all of ya, and that’s what we’re gonna do. Now, move it.’

They were led to a narrow street running off Fremont. It was much darker and there were no crowds. The fronts of buildings were filthy. Desperate, homeless people slept in doorways.

Paelen looked around for a way out of the situation. But with the four armed men, it was too dangerous to make a move just yet. The only option was to wait to see what they wanted.

‘In here,’ the greasy-haired man ordered.

They were escorted into a building and taken up to the first floor, where they were ordered into a sparsely furnished apartment. Inside were three more large thuggish-looking men and one shorter one, who seemed to be in charge. The man was in his late thirties and had tattoos on every part of his exposed skin including his bald head. Their expressions were anything but friendly. There was a thick, pungent aroma of danger in the air.

The greasy-haired man went up to the short, bald man and pointed at Paelen. ‘That’s him, ain’t it? That’s the Runt you’ve been looking for?’

‘That’s him all right,’ the man said gruffly.

Joel found his voice. ‘What’s going on here? Who are you people and what do you want?’

‘Shut up!’ the greasy-haired man ordered as he shoved Joel.

Paelen felt a rush of anger. ‘You are making a grave mistake,’ he warned. ‘Release us now or there will be trouble.’

‘Yeah,’ Frankie added, puffing himself up to his full, tiny height and trying to be brave. ‘These guys are aliens. You put your guns away or they’ll eat you!’

‘Shut up, kid!’ the tattooed man barked. He approached Paelen. ‘And don’t you go making threats you can’t back up, Runt. You might have beaten me and my boys last month, but we’re ready for you now. It’s time for payback.’

Paelen looked around the room. There were eight men altogether. With his Olympian strength and Joel’s silver arm they could easily overpower them. But the thugs had weapons, and Joel and Frankie were human. They could be hurt or even killed.

‘I believe you must have us confused with someone else,’ Paelen said flatly. ‘We have only just arrived in this city. Now, if you do not mind, we will be leaving.’

Paelen tried to pull Frankie closer and head towards the door.

‘You ain’t going nowhere, Runt,’ the tattooed man said. ‘I never forget a face – especially one that disrespects me and breaks my nose!’

‘Disrespects you?’ Joel said. ‘How? We’ve never met you before. How could Paelen break your nose?’

‘Shut it!’ the tattooed man said, pointing a finger in Joel’s face. ‘This don’t concern you.’ He concentrated on Paelen. ‘Now, Runt, what do you gotta say for yourself ?’

‘First, that I am not a runt,’ Paelen said. ‘And second, I have no idea what you are talking about.’

The tattooed man punched Paelen in the stomach. ‘I told you before what I’d do if I caught you again. But you’re too stupid to listen. You just go on disrespecting me and invading my territory. That ain’t cool. My boys tell me you were on Fremont Street again.’

It took all of Paelen’s willpower to contain his temper. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about. We have never met before!’

‘Wrong answer!’ the tattooed man said. ‘I know it was you. Same scrawny body and same dumb expression on your face. It was you all right and I ain’t about to forgive you.’

Paelen suddenly understood. He held up his hands. ‘Wait, please. I assure you, that was not me. The CRU have created a clone of me. It was him that attacked you!’

‘Clones?’ the tattooed man cried, starting to laugh. He looked at his men who were also laughing. Then his face went serious. ‘Just how stupid do you think I am, Runt? Clones? Give me a break!’

‘It’s true!’ Joel insisted. ‘Listen to us. The government has created clones. If we don’t stop them—’

‘Enough!’ the tattooed man shouted. He looked at his men. ‘I’ve had it with these punks. Kill ’em all!’

Paelen shoved Frankie to the floor as he and Joel moved. Joel pulled his silver arm free of his sling and started to fight. One man after another went down as he struck them with his heavy silver arm. Beside him, Paelen launched a powerful attack on the others. A shot went off and hit Joel’s arm, but the bullet ricocheted of the silver and hit one of the men.

Paelen was on the shooter in an instant. His superior Olympian strength was overwhelming. One blow had the man flying across the room. He hit the far wall and fell to the floor unconscious. And although Joel was mostly human, working in Vulcan’s armoury had given him amazing strength. He was able to fight off another man before he could pull the trigger of his weapon. That man crashed to the floor.

‘Paelen, behind you!’ Frankie screeched.

Paelen turned. His eyes went wide as he saw the tattooed man holding a gun up to his head.

‘Say nighty-night, Runt!’ He pulled the trigger.

The bullet knocked Paelen backwards. He felt a searing pain in the centre of his forehead. It was almost like the time Agent O had shot him in the grocery store, but much, much worse.

‘Paelen!’ Joel charged the shooter. He smashed down on his gun arm before he could fire again. The tattooed man cried out as the bones in his arm shattered under the impact of Joel’s silver arm. He collapsed to the floor crying and clutching his broken arm. Joel kicked his gun away.

‘Paelen, are you OK?’ Frankie cried as he crawled closer.

With Joel and Frankie’s help, Paelen climbed unsteadily to his feet. ‘I am so fed up with being shot in the head!’ He turned his fury on the tattooed man and kicked him viciously in the leg. ‘If one more person shoots me – just one – I swear I will turn the Solar Stream on Earth myself !’

Paelen swayed on his feet as his head pounded mercilessly. ‘I need to sit down.’

Frankie pulled over a chair and helped him sit.

‘Just relax,’ Joel said. ‘Let me take a look.’ He gently prodded Paelen’s bleeding wound. ‘Yee-ish, that’s gotta hurt!’

‘Really, Joel, do you think so?’ Paelen said sarcastically. ‘Of course it hurts! I have been shot in the head!’

Paelen saw the fear in Frankie’s young eyes and his voice softened. ‘I am all right, Frankie. You need not be frightened.’

The boy’s eyes were as wide as saucers and filling with tears. ‘You’ve got red blood just like humans. But you’re not human. ’Cause humans couldn’t survive being shot.’

‘No, I am not human,’ Paelen admitted.

‘What are you?’ The tattooed man demanded. He was still on the floor in a heap, clutching his broken arm. His eyes lingered on Paelen. ‘You should be dead. I shot you point-blank in the head!’

‘No kidding,’ Joel said angrily. He put his silver hand around the man’s throat and hoisted him up in the air. As the tattooed man squirmed and tried to break free, Joel slammed him hard against the wall. ‘You’re lucky I don’t break your neck for what you’ve done to my friend. Now, tell me, when did you last see Paelen’s clone? Where was he?’

The man shook his head. ‘There’s no such thing as clones.’

‘Of course there is!’ Paelen cried as he stood up. But the pain and dizziness forced him down again.

‘It’s all right, Paelen,’ Frankie said softly as he rubbed his back. ‘Don’t move or you’ll start bleeding again.’

Joel gave the man’s throat a squeeze. ‘I think I should warn you. You see this silver arm? I haven’t got any feeling in it. So I can’t tell when I am squeezing too hard. So you’d better start talking or I might accidentally squeeze the life right out of you. When did you see the clone?’

‘Last month!’ the man shot. ‘Working Fremont Street. Me and my boys tried to stop him. He didn’t say a word, but beat the stuffing outta all of us.’

‘What do you mean, “working Fremont Street”?’ Paelen asked as he clutched his pounding head. ‘What was he doing?’

‘Working,’ the man repeated. ‘You know, stealing and robbing without my permission and without giving me a share. I run this area; everyone works for me. But you’ve been running wild around here for months giving me nothing but headaches.’ He focused fully on Paelen. ‘You’re sloppy. You’ll bring down the heat on all of us.’

‘I told you it was not me. It was the clone!’ Paelen cried, then clasped his head and swayed.

‘Paelen, calm down,’ Joel warned. He released the tattooed man. As he slipped to the floor, Joel pointed a threatening finger at him. ‘Don’t move or I swear it will be the last thing you ever do!’

He approached Paelen and untied his sling and tore it into thin strips. Working with Frankie, they bandaged Paelen’s bleeding head. ‘The bullet is still in there,’ Joel warned. ‘We really need Emily.’

‘What I need is to get off this world and never come back!’ Paelen muttered.

The tattooed man clutched his broken arm, but leaned forward and studied Paelen closely. ‘You really ain’t the Runt, are you?’

‘Of course he’s not!’ Joel shot back.

The tattooed man leaned back. ‘How is that possible? The Runt looks just like you but he’s wild and crazy. He don’t talk and don’t respect no one.’

‘That’s because he’s a clone!’ Joel said. He concentrated on Paelen. ‘And by the sound of things, he’s still here in Las Vegas.’

Paelen, Joel and Frankie tied up the unconscious men. They restrained the tattooed man and warned him what would happen if his men went after them again. It didn’t take much to convince the criminal leader that they meant business.

When they made it back to the insanity of Fremont Street, Joel looked up and down the busy pedestrian mall. His silver arm was now fully exposed as he’d used the sling to bandage Paelen’s head. But with so many odd sights, no one gave him or Paelen with his blood-covered clothing a second glance.

‘That was so awesome,’ Frankie was saying excitedly to Paelen. He was bouncing up and down and reenacting the fight. ‘The way you both bashed those guys, they didn’t stand a chance against you.’

‘They did manage to shoot me,’ Paelen said. ‘So I hardly think we did that well.’

‘Yeah, but you won,’ Frankie cheered.

Joel stopped to look around. His concerned eyes landed on Paelen. ‘We need to get you some sugar. It’s not ambrosia, but it will help you heal until Emily gets back.’

‘He is out here,’ Paelen mused distractedly. ‘My clone is somewhere very near. I can feel him. We must find him.’

‘Are you insane?’ Joel said. ‘You heard that guy. He said the Runt is wild and crazy. He can’t talk and is really strong. Paelen, you are hurt and weak from lack of ambrosia. It would be stupid for us to try to find him. Remember what happened between Pegasus and Tornado Warning.’

‘That was different,’ Paelen said.

‘How? Pegasus is as intelligent as you. But the moment he saw Tornado he snapped. They both tried to kill each other.’

‘I do not wish to kill my clone. Simply to see him.’

Joel shook his head. ‘Right now, Paelen, what you need is sugar. After that, we can argue about your clone.’

It was late into the long night as the three sat down in one of Fremont Street’s all-night diners. They settled in a booth beside the window and ordered pancakes and chocolate milkshakes. When their drinks arrived, Joel topped up one of the drinks with all the sugar on the table and half the bottle of pancake syrup.

‘Gross,’ Frankie said as he watched Joel. ‘Are you really going to drink that?’

Joel shook his head. ‘Not me.’ He shoved the glass over to Paelen. ‘He is. Paelen, drink it all.’

Paelen’s head was pounding mercilessly and he could hardly see straight. The last time he’d been shot, Agent O was standing several metres away and the bullets hadn’t done much damage. The tattooed man was right beside him when he pulled the trigger.

‘You OK?’ Joel asked, peering closer. ‘You look really pale.’

‘I have felt better,’ Paelen admitted as he took a long drink of the sugar-charged milkshake.

‘Well, just try to eat as much as you can. I’m sure it’ll help. Emily should be back any minute now and will heal you right up.’