The six members of the expedition were still running from the spirit chasing them. They were moving much more slowly now, with many of the group clearly struggling. Fear was driving them on past their own exhaustion. Kebble swept the barrel of his rifle along the street until he came to the figure chasing them.
Feather’s headless body lurched along in a broken lope, trailing gore and insects behind him. With so many of the little creatures, anyone caught would soon be reduced to their bones, and the bugs might not even stop there.
Kebble steadied his breathing and took aim. He let the world recede around him as he targeted Feather’s heart and slowly squeezed the trigger.
Feather’s body was flung sideways, rolling to a stop in the street. The insect swarm surged around him like a protective shield, but nothing could protect the boy from Kebble.
Kebble reloaded and took aim again. His last shot had been dead on, punching through Feather’s chest right where his heart would be. The boy’s body was still twitching, still struggling to get to its feet. Even with no head and no heart, the spirit was still able to control the corpse. Kebble admitted then that he had no idea how to destroy the spirit, but he might be able to slow it down long enough for the others to escape.
As Feather struggled back to his feet, Kebble aimed lower and fired again.
Feather’s left knee exploded and the body hit the ground once more, flailing, his limbs flinging out in every direction. Kebble reloaded again and took aim once more. Feather got his hands beneath him and crawled onto all fours, though one leg dragged uselessly behind him. The insects surged around and over him, coating the boy in thousands of little shells. His vision of the body obscured, Kebble aimed for what he hoped was the right knee.
A sharp pain flared on Kebble’s neck, and he swatted at it with his hand. When he pulled it away he found a squashed beetle, its legs still twitching, and it wasn’t alone. Hundreds of the little bugs were starting to crest the ledge around the rooftop, and they were swarming towards Kebble.
Chapter 47 - The Phoenix
Keelin staggered to a halt, leaning against a wall that crumbled under his weight. He was breathing hard and struggling to keep up with Elaina. Keelin hated to admit it, but the woman was in better shape than he was. She barely even seemed out of breath, though the red in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes made her beautiful.
They’d put some distance between themselves and the monstrosity that had once been Bronson. It wasn’t enough. The big pirate was slow, but seemingly unstoppable, and nor did he tire. Keelin didn’t even want to think about how the bastard was controlling the vines snaking their way through the ruined city.
Elaina winked at him and moved forwards to the intersection. They’d been heading north for the most part and needed to cut east if they were to meet up with the others at the gate.
A shot ripped through the air and echoed around the streets. Keelin recognised the sound of Kebble’s rifle. He looked up, but he couldn’t see the marksman anywhere.
“Trouble, ya think?” Elaina said.
“We’re already in trouble,” Keelin replied between breaths. “Not a stretch to think the others are too.”
At the end of the street, six members of the expedition barrelled past. They didn’t stop to look, so intent were they on their headlong flight. Keelin shared a glance with Elaina and then pushed back into a run alongside her.
Another shot echoed around them as they reached the intersection and stopped. To the right Keelin saw the six pirates running for their lives. His heart skipped a beat when he realised Aimi was among them, and a wave of relief washed over him, followed quickly by a much larger wave of guilt. Keelin looked left to see what they were running from, and his blood froze.
Scuttling up a vertical wall was a decapitated body, and from the remnants of shredded clothing it wore, Keelin could tell it was – or at least had been – Feather. It was moving like a grotesque out of the deepest nightmares. Thousands of insects flowed around the lad, far more than was worth even thinking about counting. Above, Kebble was running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, his rifle in his hand.
“Come on,” Elaina growled, grabbing hold of Keelin’s hand and pulling him into a run.
They chased after the six pirates, closing on them quickly. Keelin shouted, a wordless cry intended to get their attention, and it worked. Aimi glanced behind and slowed to a stop, the others slowing with her.
Keelin collapsed to one knee, the exhaustion making him forget the peril just for a moment. He felt as though he hadn’t slept, nor eaten, for days, and he had so little energy left. If it weren’t for the murderous spirits trying to evict them, he was fairly certain he could collapse there and then and sleep on the street for a few days.
Aimi threw herself at Keelin and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He hugged her back, vaguely aware of Elaina shaking her head and walking away.
“You scared me,” Aimi said, pulling away from Keelin long enough to punch him, and then leaned into him again.
Keelin stood and pulled her into a close embrace. Aimi sobbed once against his chest and then drew in a deep breath. The little woman went rigid in his arms, and a moment later she was pushing him away, a confused look on her face.
“Wonderful little reunion, Cap’n,” Smithe said. “But I reckon we stirred up a serpent’s nest. Best we fuck off.”
“That thing was Feather?” Keelin said, ignoring the strange look Aimi was giving him.
“Aye.”
“Well, we found Bronson.”
As if on cue, the big spirit-infested pirate lurched around the corner just a few hundred feet away, the vines he controlled snaking along the ground around him. Bronson wasted no time breaking into a sprint towards the expedition.
“Oh, fuck me,” Smithe said, and it was clear just how tired the quartermaster was. The rings under his eyes, the slight stoop to his shoulders – he looked about ready to give up.
Another shot ripped through the air and Bronson crashed to the ground, the vines tangling around his limbs as he sprawled.
“Time to go,” Keelin shouted with one last look at Bronson; he was already surging back to his feet. They ran. Keelin’s feet hurt like all the Hells and his legs felt wooden, his knees barely bending. The others didn’t look much better. He tried to think back to a time when he wasn’t running, and the only image that came to mind was Elaina pinned up against the wall. Keelin threw a guilty look at Aimi and almost tripped over his own feet.
“Turn left,” Alfer shouted from behind, and as Keelin swung around a corner the gate that led into the forest came into glorious view.
Another gun shot rang out, and Keelin slowed to a stop and turned, quickly steering Jotin around him to stop the pirate knocking him over. The others ran past as Keelin looked along the rooftops, trying to spot the marksman.
“Cap’n?” Smithe said, pulling up next to him.
“Kebble.” Keelin pointed.
Kebble almost seemed to be dancing with Feather’s headless corpse, dodging and twisting away from its clumsy attacks, then hitting the insect-covered boy with the butt of his rifle. Feather staggered towards the lip of the rooftop and careened over the side, falling to the ground below with a bone-shattering crash – but Kebble was still dancing, swatting at the air around his head.
“Shit,” Smithe said as Bronson’s wrecked, vine-covered body barrelled around the corner.
Keelin spun on his heel and ran, Smithe at his side. A moment later he heard a thud and Smithe crying out. Keelin turned to see his quartermaster on the ground, a vine wrapped around his legs, pulling him towards Bronson.