The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) (24 page)

Gaby suddenly remembered they weren’t alone in the office and glanced over at Mason. He had sat back down in the corner, blood-smeared arms hanging off his bent knees. She couldn’t see the knife anywhere, but she didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have it hidden somewhere on him, within easy reach. He looked shell-shocked, and she wondered if she had the same expression on her face.

“What?” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

“You saw it,” she said. “What the other one did.”

He didn’t say anything and seemed to be waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “And?”

“Why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Yeah, why?” Danny said.

“How the fuck should I know,” Mason said.

“Because you’re one of them, asshole,” Nate said.

“Fuck you, kid. I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

“Never?” Danny said doubtfully.

“I’ve seen a lot of things, but…” He shook his head. “What I just saw… What that thing just did… I’ve never seen that before. You can believe it or not, I don’t really give a shit.”

Gaby stared at him. Mason was an opportunist, a liar, and a killer, but she believed every word he had just said.

“Where’d you get the shank?” Danny asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Mason said.

“Better keep an eye on it, short stack; someone might take it from you before the night’s out.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Danny smirked and turned back to the windows. She did, too, and watched the creatures as they continued their interminably slow crawl toward the office. They were bleeding from multiple wounds and stumps as they moved, but that was difficult to see against their black skin. It was easier to make out the gray dust clinging to their gaping wounds and fresh, thick pools of blood that dotted the remains of the hangar floor.

“Hear that?” Danny asked.

“What?” Nate said. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.”

She hadn’t noticed it until now, but it was deathly silent outside the building and in the airfield around them. She couldn’t remember when it had happened. She kept waiting to hear the sound of warplanes coming back, followed by the sight of gray metal flashing above them, but there was just the clear moonlit night sky visible through the large hole in the roof.

“It’s stopped,” she said. “Outside. It’s stopped.”

Danny nodded. “Hard to believe, but as bad as it was in here, someone just got royally fucked out there.”

“You’re right, that is hard to believe,” Nate said.

Gaby looked over at Mason again and caught him staring back at her.

“Truce,” he said.

“Go fuck yourself,” she said.

Mason laughed. It was a loud roaring laugh, as if he had been keeping it in forever and only now got the chance to finally unleash it. Either that, or the man had lost his marbles. After the events of the night, she wouldn’t have blamed him for going off the deep end. She still wasn’t entirely sure she had seen what she had seen, either—except Danny and Nate had witnessed it, too, so it had to have been real.

Didn’t it?

FRANK

He was between
vessels when Mabry discovered his presence among the hordes fleeing the airfield. He knew it was only a matter of time; he couldn’t hope to hide forever among the throng, especially after exposing himself inside the hangar.

“She always did say you were a fast learner.”

There was something that sounded dangerously like pride in the voice, but it might have just been another trick. He pushed it aside and continued on when hands suddenly seized his arms and wrestled him to the ground. Fingers tightened around his ankles and wrists, and a pair of black eyes glared down at him.

“There you are,”
the creature said inside his head.

It didn’t come from the ghoul—this frail thing straddling his waist as the others held him down. No, it came from somewhere else.
Mabry.
He was inside the creature’s body, using it as a ventriloquist would his puppet, like he had done back in the hangar when he saved Danny and Gaby.

“I told you, you couldn’t hide forever.”

He let go of the physical body and slid back into the river of fractured thoughts and chaotic memories. He had learned to project his mind long ago, but it was easy to lose his way if he wasn’t careful. Distance still eluded him, and the farther he traveled, the harder it was to maintain control.

He leapfrogged from one consciousness to another, letting himself be carried with the flow instead of fighting it. So many images, so many sounds, so many jumbled thoughts that, once upon a time, were capable of so much more. Those days were long gone, usurped by this new existence. They were just shells of what they used to be, suits to be worn and discarded. He didn’t feel pity for them because they were beyond caring.

“Where are you going?”

The voice pecked away at the edges of his mind, prodding and always trying to lure him back into the open. He didn’t bite and concentrated on the mission at hand.

They were out there somewhere—the men who had dropped the bombs and left behind the explosions. Men with warplanes. A new player. Maybe a new ally…

“You’re grasping at straws.”

He could feel them getting closer. The blue eyes. It forced him to keep moving, grabbing and abandoning bodies at will now, trying to stay one step ahead of them. The first time had been difficult, but everything became easier with practice—

Flames licked at his face and charred bodies blocked his path. His vision was flooded with severed limbs and decapitated heads and sheets of flesh stripped from bones.

Death from above, as a gray metal beast split the air above him, leaving behind fire and splatters of thick black clumps of blood that covered the trees and ground, making for treacherous footing. The creature he was wearing was missing an arm, but there was nothing wrong with its legs.

He pursued the warplane along with the rest of the brood. It would have to come down sooner or later, and when it did, he would find out who was behind this. He couldn’t let go now, or he might never be able to find his way back here. He pushed on through the sea of destruction, determined to reach the other side.

“Where is he?”
the voices asked.
“He’s close by. Find him—
There!”

They were converging, skating burning brushes, when he released the ghoul and surfed the currents and found another one—

Where? How far had he gone this time? He’d discovered the limitations of what he could do during his many trial runs. The farther he projected himself, the more control he surrendered. Mabry didn’t have this problem, which was how he could be everywhere and nowhere at once.

He was still somewhere in the woods, the feel of heat licking at his skin, causing an involuntary whimper to escape his scarred lips. The creature put up a futile attempt at resistance, but he pushed it down and turned around and darted even further into the woods, hoping to skirt around the blue eyes. They were out there, searching, trying to locate him again.

The crackling of burning trees filled his nostrils, and flames stabbed at him from the sides. Every one of the creature’s senses was overwhelmed by the thick, putrid aroma of searing flesh, including its own. He skipped over warm patches of blood and
crunched
bones as all around him, ghouls fled the fire. The scream of the machines shredding the night sky, raining down death and destruction at will.

A tree tumbled, crushing two flailing forms underneath its gnarled trunk. He jumped and followed the others through the scorching fire, the familiar sensation of pain reminding him of what he used to be, even as heat enclosed around his feet, ripping at skin, and traveled up his legs.

He released, returning into the ocean of voices and jumbled thoughts. What once was, what little remained. A surprising burst of sadness for all that they’d lost, all they could never get back. All
he
could never retrieve.

And Mabry’s voice, calling to him, always.

“It’s time to give up this rebellion. It’s time to embrace who you are. All you have to do is stop running. Stop fighting. You can’t win. You never could.”

There, a ghoul perched on a tree, watching as two of its brethren were engulfed in fire, their screams flooding its mind. He seized it, then made the creature stand up and jump down, then turn, directing it toward the edge of the burning woods. Figures fled to the left and right of him, others already moving much, much farther up ahead. And still so many more behind him.

A heavy
thrumming
in the air and the ground shook, and he glanced up while in mid-jump as the shimmering gray metal object, made almost shiny by the fire below it, sliced through the air high above the tree canopies. The warplane had a name, but it escaped him at the moment. An animal of some sort.

The plane loosed its cargo and the earth cracked open, the trees collapsing in waves. The sound of hundreds of ghouls screaming in pain all at the same time overwhelmed his mind, and he lost his footing. He went headfirst into some brush and came out the other side, his joints
clacking
as he struggled to rise.

Too much. It was too much. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t push it aside—

A wall of flames embraced him, the pain almost instantly unbearable, and he had no choice but to—

*

It was gone.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pick his way through the voices a second time and find the ones pursuing the plane. The problem was distance and control. The farther he projected, the less he had. It was a problem Mabry didn’t have. But then, he wasn’t Mabry. None of them were. There was only one, and there would only always be the one.

He opened his eyes to earth and darkness. Home. At least for tonight.

The silence beyond his makeshift tomb was broken only occasionally by the surf meeting the beach in the distance, bringing with it the smell of ocean water, at once reassuring and terrifying. The madness in the fields behind him was over; the blue eyes had sounded the retreat. The war machine had ceased its cannon fire, and there was just the blessed serenity of undisturbed night again.

How long before sunrise? He wasn’t sure, but there was enough time to do what he needed to do, even if his body was still weak. He shouldn’t have been tired, but he was. It wasn’t a physical pain—not the kind that left his muscles sore and tendons tight and flesh beat up. It was a mental fatigue, a strain that was hard to account for but was there, present in the throbbing against his skull and the blurring in his vision. Jumping between bodies was always draining, and this time he had stayed longer than he usually did, or wanted.

It was a risk, but it couldn’t be helped. Danny and Gaby needed him. There had been two others in the hangar with them. Men whose faces were familiar, but their names eluded him at the moment. They were back there, in the part of his memory where he kept the things that didn’t matter, that he could afford to forget.

Danny and Gaby mattered, though. What were they doing out there? They had almost died. Would have, if he hadn’t intervened.

What were they doing out there?

But there were no answers to be found down here in the darkness, so he dug and crawled, and pulled and pushed, until he was free. He straightened and gratefully let the darkness embrace him. He was somewhere between the buildings and the water, in a patch of unspectacular ground with nothing to mark his current presence or eventual leave.

He slid through the wind, the torn fabric of the trench coat the only sound as he raced across the outskirts of the city, leaving the taunting scent of the ocean far behind. Topography was difficult to gauge when he was wearing bodies, but he had glimpsed enough of the burning woods to get a general direction. Somewhere out there, the plane would have to eventually come back down.

*

They were out
at night, like they always were, and he avoided them by using the shadows. There were shadows within shadows, if you knew where to look. With patience and experience, he had learned to anticipate the shifting of the darkness, always managing to stay one step ahead of the black eyes.