The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (3 page)

Dom craned his neck forward past Vincent to get a clear view of the roof. Through the sheet of rain, he spotted boots stomping through gushing water. Blacklake were out there, waving their guns around. Up in the sky, Mack was hovering the chopper over them all. Dom nodded his head in understanding; Blacklake were trying to shoot him down. A bolt of lightning split the black sky. “He won’t hang around for much longer!” Dom shouted into Vincent’s ear above the outside noise. “We’ve gotta get rid of all them thugs before they take the chopper down. Here, take Trixie.” Vincent turned and Dom eased her down into his waiting hands. Vincent groaned under the pressure.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Dom stated as he squeezed past Vincent to the roof entrance. The wind threatened to push him back, but he rallied against it, puffing his chest out. He grabbed his dart gun, sucked in a breath, and then ran out into the carnage.

He let out a roar as he put his head down and stormed over to the nearest thug, the rain beating down on him, water splashing up from under his feet. A crack of thunder erupted just as he jutted out his shoulder and smashed into the back of a merc who was spraying bullets up at Mack. The blow sent the thug sprawling; he hit the wet concrete roof face first. Before he had a chance to react, Dom tagged him with a tranq in the upper thigh, sending him to dreamland.

Without hesitating, Dom spun and rushed toward another Blacklake who’d already turned his attention to him from the chopper. He began frantically messing with the magazine catch on his submachine gun, which the rain had jammed. Dom seized the opportunity; he put his head down and steamed into him, water splashing up from his feet. He leaped toward the thug, splitting the rain with a swift right hook. His fist smashed into the side of the merc’s head, snapping it around. As the thug fell away, Dom threw out a clunky kick, knocking the submachine gun from his hands. The merc hit the concrete with a groan and a gush of rainwater. Dom flicked the water from his hair before taking aim and shooting. He got the thug in the neck; another one down.

A hot roar made Dom spin. The third and final Blacklake was racing through the rain toward him. Dom barely had a chance to get himself set, when the thug was upon him. The merc swung an angry fist around; now it was Dom’s turn to take some punishment. He managed to throw up a forearm, letting it absorb the brunt of the blow instead of his face. The impact sent him reeling a step or two, just enough for the thug to raise his gun and aim it at Dom’s chest.

Dom’s eyes popped. He threw his dart gun hand up, desperate to get a shot fired off before the merc. Before either had a chance to fire, an abrupt gust of rainy wind cut into them both, throwing off their aims. The merc took the initiative and lunged for Dom. The thug clamped a hand on Dom’s shoulder, his momentum sending them both tumbling. Just before they hit the deck, the wind intensified, grabbing hold of them both. They were swept across the rain-soaked roof like paper bags. The world slipped by Dom in a rapid waterslide, water gushing out from beneath him like he was riding on a toboggan. Panic set in; he had no control over where he was headed. He caught a glimpse of the edge of the roof as it rapidly came into view.

His heart jumped into his throat.
OH SH—

The wind then picked up and flipped him over; now he was sliding along on his stomach. He threw out his hands in a desperate attempt to grab hold of something. But there was nothing. Instead, he slid helplessly toward his doom, the cruel wind determined to send him there ASAP. He waved his arms around like a frightened child, the terror of his impending fate large in his mind. His jaw dropped as that cliff-like roof edge came right up close.

He gasped.

The merc fell off the edge of the building just as the wind stopped dead. On his way down, he managed to grab hold of the small ridge surrounding the roof edge. He hung there, swaying left and right.

Dom’s palms hit the ridge and he came to a grinding halt, his wind-propelled momentum petering out just in time. The jarring impact sent his head and shoulders over the edge; he stared in horror down a hundred stories, his hands gripping the ridge with all his strength, his legs sprawled across the roof. Hot vertigo ripped up into his head; it swam with dizziness.

“Uh—” was all he could manage as he glared into the dark abyss below with a dumb stare.

Movement to his left snapped him out of giddiness. His head spun that way; the merc was hanging off the edge of the roof, dangling precariously. Dom’s instinct was to throw a hand out and grab the merc’s forearm. The moment he did, the thug’s grip failed him; he dropped like a pile of lead. Dom’s arm tensed. The thug bounced on the air, now suspended in Dom’s grasp. Dom groaned under the pressure. He gripped the ridge of the roof with his free hand, his neck straining under the pressure, the rain pounding him without mercy. He let out a grunt as he began pulling, trying his best to help the guy back up onto the roof and not let him drop to his death. His whole body tensed as he pulled harder. “Come on!” he squeezed out between his clenched teeth. “Come on up!”

Instead, he was pulled downward; his eyes widened in shock. His other hand impulsively gripped the ridge of the roof harder, clamping him in place. Both his arms now stretched and strained. He snapped his head down to be met with the merc’s mean face; it was twisted into a snarl.

“You’re coming with me!” the thug growled and began to pull down instead of up.

The tendons in Dom’s arms screeched.
LET GO!
his mind shrieked.
LET HIM GO!

He instinctively released his grip, letting the merc drop, relieving himself of his burden. But at the last second, the thug grabbed Dom’s forearm. There was a jarring. Dom clenched his teeth, managing to hold on. Then the merc began yanking down. Dom strained, his grip on the ridge now loosening as the seconds raced by, the slippery surface offering scant purchase. Gravity was working against him, while the rain thrashed his body from all angles. He looked down. The merc’s eyes flashed with wild, destructive abandon; he’d already resigned himself to his fate. Now the dark desire in his final moments of life was murder. He yanked down harder, and Dom’s pinky finger slipped away from the roof’s ridge, any second and his whole hand would come unstuck, and that would be the end.

Hold on, Dom! Hold on!

His screaming tendons and aching muscles were making it near impossible. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

The thug yanked down harder, a sickening grin splitting his face in half.

Dom whipped his head away, his teeth clenched, the veins on his neck popping out. He spotted his dart gun lying over to the side, agonizingly close by. His only free hand was sticking him to the roof, and it was fast slipping away from the ridge.

Man, I wish I had three hands!

He groaned in agony. The merc pulled down harder. Another finger slipped away. Now he was holding on by just a couple of fingertips.

“Come on! Die with me!” the thug roared above the rumbling thunder.

Dom went for his dart gun.

With all his remaining strength, he wrenched his whole body back. His hand finally slipped away from the ridge, but his momentum was now momentarily heading away from the building’s edge.

He’d bought himself the half second he needed to pull up on his knees. The weight of the thug took over once more, pushing Dom forward. He jammed his knees into the ridge, stopping him in place. He jarred, then held himself steady. Now he had a free hand.

The arm the thug was clutching began to tremble. He didn’t have long. The thug grinned. He had him. He finally had him. Just a couple more tugs and down they’d both go.

With his kneecaps crammed into the ridge, and his teeth clenched, Dom swiped his now free arm across the roof space next to him. The moment his fingertips touched his dart gun, he scooped it up and brought it fully around ahead of him.

He pushed the barrel forward and down and let off an aimless round, hoping it would meet its intended target. The dart shot out and embedded itself into the thug’s forearm. In the ensuing seconds, the merc’s hateful snarl melted. His eyelids fluttered. He tried his best to push them open, but it was futile. His mouth then drooped, his eyes shut permanently, and his grip finally loosened. It then released entirely.

Dom’s body relaxed. It fell back, his butt hitting the wet roof. He caught a glimpse of the merc silently dropping and vanishing into the gloom below like a lead balloon, his body limp and floppy with sleep. Dom’s jaw dropped just as a bolt of lightning lit up the whole area. The ensuing crack of thunder accompanied him stuffing his fist into his mouth and slamming his eyes shut tight, the rain beating down on him.
Oh my god, I just killed him! I just killed him!
The realization set in fast and hard.
I just killed someone! Christ!

“Dominic!”

The shout snapped him out of his fugue. His eyes flicked open; Vincent was standing in the roof doorway, struggling to hold Trixie up.

Putting dead mercs on the back burner, Dom jumped to his feet and raced over to Vincent and Trixie, just as Mack began bringing the helicopter down.

“Take Trixie,” Vincent said once Dom reached him.

“I killed him!” Dom blurted as he took Trixie from his hands.

“It was either you or him. You tried your best to save him.”

Somehow Vincent’s words were calming. A coolness overcame Dom’s frenzied mind. “I suppose...”

“Trixie’s your priority now,” Vincent reminded him.

Dom nodded. That was true. He looked down; her eyes were closed. Her body flopped in his arms, just as she muttered something incoherent to herself. Dom spun back around; Mack had landed on the roof. The helicopter rotors created a blast of air that pushed Dom’s sodden hair from his brow. From the pilot’s seat, Mack gave him a tentative thumb up and a puff of the cheeks. Dom nodded in return before dashing across the roof, his feet splashing. Vincent followed up, scuttling through the rain. He went ahead and slid the helicopter door open. Dom leaned in, throwing Trixie down onto the back seat. She hit it with a loud moan. “Sorry, Trixie,” Dom said before he slung her legs down so she became upright. She slumped in the seat like a rag doll.

“Get her belted up,” Dom ordered, helping Vincent into the seat next to her.

Vincent grabbed the belt and pulled it tight across Trixie’s lap. “We’ll be home soon, my dear,” he said to her in a soothing voice. Dom jumped into the seat opposite him and slid the door shut. Now ensconced within the chopper, the pounding rain was muted.

“Thanks for coming back, man!” Dom shouted over his shoulder.

“No problem,” replied Mack. “But, this storm ain’t making things any easier.”

“Think you can you get us back to the mansion?”

“I’ve survived worse. She okay?”

Dom flicked his eyes toward Trixie. Her head was lolled forward, her lips muttered something, but it was exclusively for her own ears.

“No, not really,” Dom replied. “We gotta get her back home quick.”

Mack took a swig of his canteen. “Okay, strap yourselves in!” He fired up the rotors and the chopper rumbled into life.

Dom threw his belt across his body, just as he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

The roof door burst open and more Blacklake came filing out.

“Look out!” Dom screamed. A rasp of gunfire rang out, followed by hollow metallic clangs that were way too close to home.

“Hold on to your butts!” Mack shouted before he put the throttles on. The rotors went into overdrive and the helicopter shot upward. The wind then took hold. They yawed away in a terrifying arc. Dom’s stomach twisted and turned like he was on a roller coaster. “Oh crap!” he shouted against the pressure, clutching his seat with all his might, his eyes shut. The chopper bobbed on the air as if they were a boat on a stormy sea. At least out at sea they had the slim chance of swimming to survival; up here, one mistake and they’d be toast.

Dom’s stomach veered off to the left alongside the helicopter, which, with the aid of a gust of wind, swung across the air as if giant hands were manipulating it with strings. The bile in his stomach swished around, turning him green. Opposite him, Vincent released a small gasp.

The helicopter then juddered in a fit of turbulence, the rain beating against it in a hellish rhythm, smearing the windows, making them impossible to look through.

“Oh god, don’t let us die,” Dom moaned.

There was another round of gunfire, this time more distant. Mack swayed viciously to the right, just as a few metallic pings sounded out somewhere beneath Dom. “Holy crap!” he shouted, his knuckles turning white. It was like being on a fairground ride, but without the fun.

“Hold on! We’re almost out of here!” Mack shouted over his shoulder, his grip on the collective tightening. Without warning, they shot upward as if they’d been sucked up by the Heavens.

Dom’s tender stomach leaped up into his throat. “I’m never getting in a chopper again!” he wailed.

Opposite him, Trixie was fast asleep; lucky for her.

They then whipped around in a semi-circle, Dom’s churning stomach whirled alongside it. His queasy head spun. He grabbed it, praying for this to end. The chopper made a savage swerve to the right, then back again, just as another round of gunfire rang out.

Dom yelped. He clipped off his belt and went and pressed his face up against the window. He stared downward with wide, eager eyes. He caught the back of the I-Sore Tower roof; toy-soldier mercs were running across it, hoping to get a last shot at them. But it was too late. They were too far away. A couple more seconds and that rooftop was history, the mercs standing on it no bigger than matchsticks.