“They have to die! They all have to die for what they did!”
Damn. Chapel had really set the guy off. He was screaming now, his words slurring with rage. Who went from calm and collected to homicidally angry that fast? “Just talk to me — explain it to me,” Chapel called out. “Please! I want to understand!”
“Understand? You can’t fucking understand this!”
“I want to—”
Chapel didn’t get to finish the thought. The detainee hit the pillar Chapel hid behind, then, hard enough to shatter it into chips of concrete and twisted rebar. Hard enough to send Chapel sprawling forward, right into the pool of light coming in through the door.
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK: APRIL 12, T+9:14
Chapel nearly dropped his pistol as he fell forward. He barely managed to get his hands under him as broken concrete pelted his back and smacked into his head. He felt blood slicking down one side of his face, and his ears were ringing. Slowly he turned around to look behind him.
The detainee came at him roaring like an animal, arms outstretched, big fingers reaching for Chapel’s flesh.
Chapel rolled out of the way, scrabbling to get his feet underneath him. He dashed into the darkness beyond the pool of light. Instantly he was blind, and he stumbled as his foot caught on a pile of two-by-fours. He went sprawling again, but this time caught himself a little better. He rolled onto his good shoulder, then onto his back. Blinking rapidly he fought to gain some kind of night vision so he could see through the murk. The daylight coming in through the broken door dazzled his eyes and kept him from seeing anything.
He heard concrete shattering again, vaguely saw pieces of acoustic ceiling tile come cascading down from above.
“I see you there,” the detainee said, his voice thick with rage.
Damn — Chapel couldn’t see his attacker at all. He pushed himself backward with his feet, trying at least to get a wall behind him so the detainee would have to come at him from the front. He lifted his handgun, pointed it into the darkness.
For a second the detainee was visible in the pool of light, moving so fast he was a blur. He was headed right for Chapel. Could the bastard see in the dark?
Chapel got to his feet and jumped to the side just in time. The detainee hit the wall where Chapel had been, and metal clanged as a stack of rebar went falling and clattering across the floor.
Chapel desperately tried to make out anything in the dark. There were shadows — vague shapes. He took a wild guess at where the detainee would be. He raised his weapon, aimed as carefully as he could since he didn’t know what he was shooting at. It could have been a wheelbarrow or a pile of buckets.
But this shadow moved.
Chapel took the shot. The muzzle flash ruined any night vision he’d gained.
But the detainee screamed.
“Stop doing that!” the detainee bellowed. “Just give up and die already!”
Not a chance, Chapel thought. He backed away from the detainee, his artificial hand held out behind him so he wouldn’t stumble over anything too big. His eyes stung with dust and darkness, so he clamped them shut.
He felt air moving over his face and his good hand. He heard broken concrete settling, heard rebar creaking as it took the weight of the building above.
The detainee was stumbling in the dark now, too. Either his night vision wasn’t as good as Chapel had thought or he had lost enough blood to slow him down. Thank heaven for small favors. Chapel’s artificial hand felt a pillar behind him. He pressed his back up against it. He listened.
He could hear footsteps. Coming closer.
He considered rushing for the light. In the dark like this he was clearly at a disadvantage. The light was coming from the street, though. He had to keep the detainee in the building where he controlled the situation. If the guy got out onto the sidewalk again, he might run for it, and Chapel knew he couldn’t run him down on foot.
“You’re tough, for a human,” the detainee said.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Chapel had no time to think about it. A piece of concrete as big as his fist struck the pillar, just inches above Chapel’s head. If it had connected, it might have fractured his skull. Chapel ducked and lifted his weapon, just as another chunk of concrete smacked into his leg.
He fired blind into the darkness, one shot, two. He had no hope of hitting the detainee.
But in the muzzle flash he saw the detainee coming toward him, saw little snapshots frozen in time as the bastard leaped into the air, arms wheeling to smash into Chapel and crush him.
Chapel jumped to the side and ran toward the windows at the front of the building. He kept well clear of the door to keep the detainee from getting any ideas.
His leg hurt. Every step was a new flash of agony. Either he’d been wounded by the chunk of concrete that hit him, or he was just now feeling the effects of when the detainee had grabbed him back in Julia’s apartment.
He made it to the windows, but he could already hear the detainee running at him again, charging. Chapel reached behind him and grabbed a handful of the brown paper that covered the window. Just before the detainee reached him, he tore it free, turning his head to the side.
Bright light burst through the uncovered glass, a beam of it like a laser shining right in the detainee’s face. Chapel had hoped to blind the man — if his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, the sudden light should be enough to dazzle him, at least for a moment, and let Chapel get a shot off.
The detainee laughed. He squinted his eyes shut, then opened them again.
Except — they were different now. Chapel was flummoxed by what he saw. The detainee’s eyes had turned black, solid black, from side to side. No white was visible at all.
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK: APRIL 12, T+9:17
“What the hell are you?” Chapel demanded.
The detainee didn’t answer. As Chapel watched, the detainee’s eyes changed again. The blackness slid away from his eyes, like an eyelid drawing back. Like an extra eyelid.
Chapel thought of lizards and snakes — didn’t they have an extra eyelid like that? Some kind of membrane to protect their eyes from the sun?
This made no sense. It made no sense at all.
Chapel was so surprised he failed to take the obvious shot.
The detainee grabbed up a piece of rebar from the floor. He wasn’t surprised, and he was more than ready to end this. The length of ribbed steel bar swung through the air, slamming into the window right by the side of Chapel’s good arm. Chapel managed to duck as it came around for a second strike.
Damn, the guy was fast. Weird eyes notwithstanding, his speed and strength were beyond any limit of human strength. This just kept getting harder and harder to understand.
Chapel had to jump to the side to avoid a third swing. The detainee switched his grip on the bar and jabbed at Chapel, hard enough to star the tempered glass of the window behind him.
Before Chapel could even move, another jab came, and another. One clipped the side of his head and bright lights burst behind Chapel’s eyes. He lurched wildly, suddenly unable to stand up straight — which was all that saved him from being impaled as the bar came right at his chest.
If this kept up much longer, Chapel knew he would be beaten to death, his bones crushed by that length of steel. He brought up his weapon and fired — they were close enough together now he barely needed to aim.
A bright spot of blood appeared on the detainee’s chest, just a little to the right of where his heart should be. It was the kind of shot that might kill a human being or might just incapacitate him — either way it would leave him down on the floor, bleeding out.