Raddatz: "Tice, hold back. Cover us from the door.'
Tice was schlepping the Benelli.
Raddatz put Carmichael and McCrae on the edges of the boutique. The pair toted HKs. Sexy in black.
Out front was Raddatz carrying just his Colt .45. Just the .45. A precision kill weapon that hit harder than a Glock. For most cops in most situations it'd be more gun than they needed. Against a freak, at best it was adequate.
Raddatz inched his way forward, every step feeling same as bait on a hook, if the thing was present, he was making himself available for it. Hope was he'd get it first. If not. the hope was one of the other operators could put it down.
On the walls: shimmers of light like sunshine kicked back from a pool. Constant movement. An optical distraction. In all Ms years Raddatz had never squeezed off a jumpy round by mistake. Today might be the day.
Forward, peeking, peeking around a display case.
Nothing. Jewels, riches. No freak. Forward. Forward some more. Eyes fluttering from dripping sweat. The heavy breathing of three other MTacs in his ear.
He should clear his sweat. Raddatz thought he should.
Light on the walls.
Thought he should. Probably not a good move.
His choices had come down to that: Take Ms hand off his gun to clear his vision. Have his vision cut by the sweat, but keep up a solid two-handed grip.
Breathing in his ear.
He hated self-debating; what to do or not. Just do it or forget it.
The light, the light dancing.
A door up ahead A storage room? Back office?
Raddatz, into his throat mike: "Going for the door."
Behind him the.sound of shifting bodies. Red dots slipped over die wall. Guns taking up new aim points.
And the sound of breathing.
Left hand out, reaching for the door. For the knob.
Raddatz took hold. Tested it. Unlocked. He opened it slightly Opened it…
There was a single scream split in two, both parts heard simultaneously. The vocalized one behind Raddatz. T h e transmitted one in his ear and stabbing into his heart.
Raddatz whipped around.
Tice was off the ground. Elevated inches above it by the thing. The freak. Elevated inches off the ground by the freak's hand jammed wrist-deep into Tice's chest.
Tice: squirming, screaming. Blood gushing.
Dying.
Raddatz didn't need to give the go. Carmichael, McCrae already doing work with the HKs. Thirteen rounds a second X 2. Flying hot. Scorching air with a ffft, ffft, ffft as the slugs sourced for the target. Missed the target. Both MTacs missed. The freak was already moving. The bullets it dodged rapid-punched walls. Little as they were, they dug out fist-sized divots. Bricks chipped. Powdered. Clouded the air.
All that was behind the freak.
The freak was leaping, hauling Tice-or Tice's body-with it. The freak landed on a display case. Shattered glass sent gems flying, scattered sunlight through the diffused space.
Pretty.
Then the freak leaped again, leaped for McCrae. Moving too fast for Raddatz to keep a bead.
Then it was bloody hell
Bare-handed, the freak tore, literally tore into McCrae. Fingers like hooks. Arms spinning like blades. Old-school Warner Bros, cartoon
Tasmanian. Without the fanny. Tore up McCrae, tore up what was left of Tice at the same time.
Fountains of crimson.
Chunks of meat.
Walls got painted.
Slaughterhouses were more genteel.
Screams coming, seeming to come from everywhere. Screams of death, of rage. Wails that begged God and woke the devil.
The freak was strong, was fast. Impossible. Freaks didn't own multiple abilities. One. All they had was one. If they had more than one… straight fear talking to Raddatz: If freaks had more than one ability, how was a cop supposed to have a chance in hell of going against it and living?
Carmichael held fire, didn't want to hit Tice or McCrae. Bad-cop fidelity. What was left of the cops was dead.
Raddatz jerked his trigger two, three times. The bullets took the target. Raddatz saw the hits, saw flesh rent, blood spurt.
To the freak three bullet wounds were nothing. Interfered with his continued violence none.
Carmichael got over his concerns, got to shooting. The low boom, the deep roar of his
Benelli. Hell coming for the hellion. Came too slow. By the time his slugs got to the freak, the freak was gone. The slugs beat the shit out of a wall. The freak was taking air, arching for Carmichael. A whoosh, a streak as it slashed an arm forward. Then Carmichael's head, separated from his body, was shattering through a glass display case. Coming to rest among a collection of eighty-plus-carat diamond pendants. Carmichael's body did about five seconds of a headless-chicken dance. Dropped to the floor. Danced a little more. Purged some more blood from the top of its empty neck. Joined Tice and McCrae in being dead.
Strength, speed. Nearly invulnerable. Freaks didn't have multiple abilities, Raddatz told himself. How was a cop supposed to have a chance in hell of going against it and-
The thing put feet to a wall, sprang off. Arching again. Arching for Raddatz.
Raddatz's finger jerking the Colt's trigger. Three more bullets for the freak. Two more hits. Same as before. No difference. The freak was not stopped.
The freak landed. The freak was right in front of Raddatz. Looking human, but so far removed from humanity. Chest blowing, eyes burning, bleeding but not dying. Hell-born, but a thing hell wouldn't want.
And then it moved. Fast, like before. Violent. With its hands it grabbed. With its teeth it bit, cracked. Tore away the bones of Raddatz's wrist. A sucking, popping sound.
And a scream from Raddatz. He saw his own hand, gripping his gun, flipping through the air.
And the freak: blood flesh-spilled from its mouth that curved with a smile.
Raddatz stepped back. Thought he was. Thought he was stepping back. He was falling backward. Took the ground hard. Instinct-a cop's instinct, plain survival instinct-told him to get up, get back into things. If you're gonna die, die. But die fighting. Die taking the thing with you. So Raddatz tried to scramble off, push himself back up. He slipped on his own blood. His stump useless for helping out in the effort to stand. Good for nothing except causing him pain, bleeding massively.
No getting up. No getting back into the fight. The next couple of seconds held nothing but the remainder of his life. Just time enough to consider: eyes closed or open? Does he go out like a man, watch death coming? Does he shut his eyes and pick, that one last image to ride to eternity with?
Eyes closed. He conjured his wife, his boys.
Please, God, let 'em know my last thought was of them.
He calmed none. Held his family tight in his mind. Took a quick hit of every emotion he'd ever felt.
Please, God.
Please…
Thunder is its own thing, he'd always thought. When Raddatz was a boy, when his father taught him, as good fathers do, to count the seconds between lightning and thunder to figure how far off a storm was, Raddatz just got it into his head thunder is different from lightning. And it is. But they're partners. It takes lightning to make thunder-the sound of a vacuum collapsing when air is riven by electricity. So when he felt it, when Raddatz felt the sharp bite of charged particles racing above him, he knew it was lightning when he heard the thunder. Heard the animal scream of the freak as it fried. Smelled flesh that was bone-roasted.
Tsui there was nothing but the sound of breathing.
His own. His own was all that remained.
His shaking, convulsing diminished. Volition returned. Raddatz used it to open his eyes. The world swam around him. A mile away, maybe just ten feet, was the freak. Burned, obviously. Skin charred where it wasn't just cooked away. Probably dead. It was motionless enough to be dead. There were bodies about, body parts about. Blood everywhere. All that remained of his former fellow cops. Raddatz's head moved in some direction. Actual geography was lost to him. Upside down to him was a woman. A female anyway. She was little older than a girl. A teen. She wore a shirt that both quoted some urbanism and showed midriff. Baggy pants that peekabooed the thong her parents must have hated her wearing. Such a normal girl. Other than the arc of electricity that crawled around her clenched fists. Three cops dead. Raddatz dying. The freak that had done all that stopped by a youth with tricky fingers.