Nothing else immediately tried to rearrange my bodily organs, and I sagged a bit, only then noticing how Cam’s knee was digging into the small of my back. He squirmed uncomfortably too, and with some effort, we managed to thrash our way clear of the dead branches.
The silver object from the now dead creature (I know it was dead, ’cause I stomped the skull to gooey bits, just to be sure) turned out to be a quarter. I fished it out of the tall grass and stuffed it in my pocket. Guess I really wouldn’t be able to give Marty any crap about his slingshot now.
The other gleam I retrieved from the foliage was Cam’s delicate gold chain, sporting a very plain gold cross. I handed it back to him, and he nodded his thanks.
We won that one, mostly. Aside from some nasty cuts and scratches-mostly mine and Cam’s-the tree had done little damage to us other than scattering our forces. There were four dead creatures, three of them splattered with colorful neon paint. I could see where the blessed paintballs had blistered the skin beneath, no doubt distracting them long enough for my brother to deliver the coup de grace with his gun.
One of the corpses was in several pieces, and Duke refused to relinquish the severed foot he was proudly carrying in his massive jaws. His brindle fur was as colorful as the things we’d just killed, and his muzzle was almost entirely neon pink.
I grimaced and swallowed hard. “Take that away from him.”
Marty looked at the big dog-who outweighed me by a good fifty pounds-and back at me. “You go ahead and try.” I didn’t.
None of the bodies was female. I checked twice. Handless was still out there, and we had no way of knowing where, or how many friends she had with her. It. Think of it as an it. If I started thinking of it as a person, even a former person, I was afraid I might go completely bonkers.
As we gathered ourselves to move on again, I cornered Marty. “How far do you think we still have to go?”
He glanced up and down the trail like he could chart our position just from looking. I don’t know, maybe he could. “Another half an hour, if we don’t get stopped. We should be in sight of Ericson’s by then.”
Our departure was delayed further when Will had to check Zane over. The black streaks were almost to his elbow by now, and even from a few yards away, I could see how fever bright his eyes were. Will had him dry swallow some painkillers, but it was just over-the-counter stuff. It wasn’t going to do much. He didn’t make a peep about how much pain he had to be in, but believe me, I knew, and my heart went out to the kid.
When we finally got moving, Oscar was supporting his son with one arm, but at least Cameron was managing on his own again. Somehow, our ragtag and wounded bunch managed to make it down the mountain.
I swear, I have never been so happy to see asphalt in my life, and only dignity kept me from dropping down and kissing the parking lot as we stepped out of the trees.
I’d had visions of the Suburban sitting there with four slashed tires, but luckily it seemed intact. While Will and Cole got the walking wounded loaded into the big truck, Marty went to retrieve the keys from the clerk. Me? I stood nervous guard on the side of the truck not visible to the store. Didn’t think I wanted to explain to the customers why I was running around the parking lot with a bared blade.
It was hard getting everyone into the truck when we had two more people than we started with. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to us to have Oscar get his own vehicle, but no one thought of that until hours later. Jackasses (me included).
Once we were all wedged in (and sadly, the sword had to be stowed for safety’s sake), Will started passing out cell phones from the glove compartment. Mine, of course, was dead. “Fuck!” I had Ivan’s number. I had Viljo’s. Neither of which could I get to in a dead phone. If someone was making a move on the rest of the champions, I had to warn them, and the stupid battery was fucking dead!
“Don’t you know the numbers?” Cole asked.
“No, I don’t know the numbers! I put them in the phone so I wouldn’t have to know the numbers!” I thumped my now useless piece of plastic and circuitry against his forehead.
Thankfully, Cole’s phone was still just fine, and he started trying to track down my wife to get her miracle poisoning cure for Zane. Not so thankfully, Mira seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet. She wasn’t answering the home phone or her cell and though Cole was set on going through his entire contact list, no one else seemed to know where she was either.
Please… please let her be okay… She was at the movies. Or… getting her hair done, or… I pressed my head to the back of Marty’s seat and forced a few deep breaths. There were a couple of dozen explanations for her not answering the phone, all of them perfectly mundane and safe.
Focus, Jesse. One thing at a time. First, Zane had to get to a hospital.
Marty didn’t exactly squall tires getting out of the parking lot, but only because I’m not sure the Suburban was capable of such a feat. Next to me, Oscar was turned around in his seat, keeping an eye on Cameron and Zane, stuffed into the back with Duke. The big mutt had curled up next to the injured boy, as if his mere massive presence could make things all right.
Turned around as I was, also checking on the invalids, the first sign I had that something was wrong was the enormous “THUMP” and Marty spewing out more curse words than I even knew. The vehicle swerved hard, throwing me against the door, and something heavy dented in the roof, almost smacking Oscar in the back of the head.
“It’s on the roof!” Well, no shit, Will. Before any of us could do anything, the window next to Cole shattered inward, and a skeletal arm reached in, snagging his shirt with filthy, grasping fingers.
A grotesque head hung upside down in the window, and through the shouting and the broken glass and the careening truck, I recognized it as Handless. I couldn’t even imagine how she was hanging on with her stub of an arm, grappling my brother with the only hand she still possessed.
Cole had the heel of one palm jammed against her chin, trying to keep her snapping, snarling mouth away from his face, while the other pried at her fingers, her rotten skin coming away under his nails. “Somebody get this bitch off of me!”
I snatched Oscar by the belt and pitched him over the back of the seat, not caring if he landed on Cameron. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in the cramped backseat, but I managed to swing my legs around and aimed a few vicious kicks at Handless. Bone crunched under the first, and the second caused her to lose her grip. The filthy thing didn’t fall, though, using her hold on Cole to flip right side up, her clawed feet scratching loudly down the door as she looked for purchase.
Cole couldn’t get to his gun, and my sword was useless. But the truck was still moving, and I braced myself against my own door. “Cole! Door! Marty, tree!”
The Suburban swerved, and tree branches whipped through the broken window, spattering us with shredded leaves. Cole let go of Handless long enough to grab the door handle, and I kicked outward with all my might. The door went flying open, taking Handless with it, then slammed back shut with a crunch as it impacted the next tree we passed. Black goo splattered over Cole, and Handless’s now severed arm (the one with the hand) flopped into his lap, twitching feebly for a moment. And Handless was gone.
With a disgusted exclamation, Cole flung the arm out of the window, trying to scrub his hands off on his gore-splattered jeans.
“Did it kill her?” I crawled across Cole despite his protests, sticking my head as far out the window as I dared. I couldn’t find her.
“Sweet cartwheeling Jesus,” Cameron breathed, and I was inclined to agree with him despite the blasphemy. Only he wasn’t worried about Handless and her missing appendages. “Look.” He yanked on my shirt until I turned to look out the front window.