Contractor (16 page)

That’s why he was noticing it so much; it

was another jump in power.

Probably. But maybe it really was just

his magic.

While investigating personal defense

strategies, Daniel came across something

interesting—a recipe for homemade riot

gear. He stole a few sheets of scrap metal

and plexiglass from the junkyard and, with a

magicked knife, cut and bent sections of it

into armor plates. He backed it with pieces

of tire to create three layers of protection.

It wasn’t very comfortable, but he could

wear a hoodie underneath it for padding. He

also cut two smaller metal plates, one to rest

on top of his hands, and another to lay flat

against his knuckles. If he had to punch, he

had his own set of brass knuckles at the

ready.

The weight barely slowed him down.

With a little practice, he could divert power

to any piece of armor he chose, blinking them

on and off as if he was a walking Christmas

tree. Protecting his body with magic all at

once tired him out quickly; the key was

directing power only when and where he

needed it. There was that gas mileage thing

again.

He secured the tire-backed steel and

plastic around his body with belts. He

looked like a cross between a SWAT team

wannabe and a hipster, but even without his

magic he could probably take a shot and live

to tell the tale. Powered up, it should offer a

lot of protection.

When he wasn’t beating up tires, Daniel

took time to study the effects of his

enchantment. Aside from allowing a normal

object to strike Vorid, the white glow of his

magic enhanced the physical properties of

whatever he touched. That translated to

speed and strength for himself; to a knife, it

was sharpness and toughness; to armor,

increased strength and durability.

He searched the internet for the Ivory

Dawn, but after two hours hunting through

pages of text, he gave up. Whoever they

were, they worked in absolute secrecy.

Considering the magic at their disposal, it

wasn’t very surprising they could hide

themselves from normal people. He found

nothing about contractors, either. But then,

you’d have to be pretty stupid to make your

powers public with how things were.

Having spent two nights watching

videos, he ranged far from home, hunting

down the spawn in droves. He didn’t even

think twice about his privacy violations

anymore. He scared more than one person

half-to-death, and set off home alarms

constantly, but he could get in and out fast

enough that it didn’t matter.

If his father and brother noticed the fact

that he was out all day and night, they didn’t

say anything. Daniel thought his Dad was

happy he was getting out of the house and

having a last hurrah of his final summer

before college. Felix entertained himself

with TV and video games as usual.

The day of the fight came. If Xik’s

prediction was correct, and there was no

reason to believe it wouldn’t be, the

extractor would come that night. Daniel tried

to relax to save his strength, but it was like

trying to sleep after drinking five cups of

coffee. He ended up pacing restlessly around

his neighborhood.

His feet carried him to Mrs. Faldey’s

house. Eliza’s house.

The lawn was starting to get high. The

grass tangled around the support posts of the

for-sale sign. He stood there for a long time,

staring at the shutter he’d fixed and the

gutters he’d cleaned for a person that didn’t

exist anymore.

****

Daniel waited on the roof of the high

school. He was clad in his armor, the triple-

layered rubber-plastic snapped and tied

around his body. He crouched near one of the

ventilation shafts.

The three-story school was the tallest

thing outside of Aplington’s sliver of a

downtown. He could see a large area around

him; the track, the field, the parking lot. He

wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

It was dark. Clouds blocked the

moonlight. The air was still and humid. He

worked his finger through the lock of hair

that drooped over his eyes.

A black power sundered the air.

He looked up. From the edges of a

jagged red hole descended the magical

dome, and as it fell, it bled the color from the

world. He sensed an orb of darkness drop

from the tear in the sky, the characteristic

splotch of Vorid magic.

He jumped down from the school,

falling down the three stories. A burst of

white light glowed under his shoes, and he

landed neatly on the balls of his feet. He ran

to meet where the orb was going to impact

the street.

The dome sealed itself into the ground,

finishing the process that changed the world

from Technicolor to black and white. The

extractor slammed into a yard a block ahead

of him. A cloud of dust rose over it, drifting

over the fences.

Daniel snapped open his baton. The

rod’s handle was warm in his hands. It felt

really, really good to have something

between him and the world.

He inched around the yard’s white

fencing. Resting in a hole in the grass was a

compact ball of metal a few feet across. It

looked nothing like the hulking robot he’d

faced in Cleveland.

The ball remained silent, but it was the

dust that caught his eye—because it had

color. The brown cloud, thrown from the

impact, was spinning about like a little dust

devil. But then it slowed, and stopped,

midair. The color drained from it. It hung

there, a haze of white smoke, frozen in place.

Daniel tried to put the pieces together.

So, everything was frozen in time…but

things that were touched regained life

briefly. And then froze up again, if they were

left alone. He supposed the whole point of

the dome was to keep them hidden, but it

seemed a bit elaborate for just that.

The orb shifted. Daniel flinched back.

In one smooth movement, the extractor’s

body transformed. Nested steel plates

clacked out, forming the arms. Legs lifted it

up into the air. The head snapped up and

swiveled into place. The inscriptions on its

chest and limbs flickered with black and

white light.

Daniel burst forward with his baton high

on his shoulder. His weapon flared. He

whipped it forward diagonally, then back the

other way with his basic one-two strike. The

extractor shielded with its arms. Twin thunks

of steel denting steel resounded where

Daniel’s weapon struck.

The extractor stayed bunkered down, so

Daniel kept up his attack, whipping it

repeatedly, wracking up bends and cracks on

the extractor’s folded arms. He pushed his

power into the tip of the weapon—so that

just the very end was glowing a white-hot

gold—then stabbed for the extractor’s

elbow. The joint crumpled inward.

At that, the extractor reacted. Its other

arm grabbed Daniel’s baton before he could

pull it away, and twisted. Daniel was forced

to let go or get dragged into the air. The

machine bent the weapon down the middle

and tossed it away.

Daniel took a few steps back. He’d been

too brazen, and now his weapon was in the

bushes. He flexed the steel plates on his

gloves, then balled up his fists.

The extractor’s circuit-like inscriptions

flashed. It walked forward, then punched.

Daniel dodged it easily and countered

with his fist-plates, landing a sold blow on

the arm. The machine punched and punched

again. It was strong, but mechanical. Daniel

stayed patient, evading, then counterattacking

to build up damage.

The inscriptions on its feet flashed in a

familiar pattern. This time, Daniel was ready

when the kick snapped up. He leaned back.

A metal boot whizzed by his head.

This was his chance. He forced his

power out full blast, as much as he could at

one time, shoving the gold light at his core

out every pore of his body.

The world slowed down.

The extractor’s foot crawled up through

the air, stopped, then started to drop. Daniel

caught the extended foot under the heel, then

jammed his other elbow down into the

extractor’s knee. Iron groaned and whines as

the joint was wrenched the wrong way.

With one arm and one leg gone, the

extractor was flailing for balance. Daniel

jumped, spun. His foot caught the extractor in

the head, knocking it over.

It rocked like a turtle on its back. Daniel

ran circles around it, picking and nicking

until its limbs were completely destroyed.

He kicked its torso over and over, crumpling

it up like a tin can.

The light faded and went dead. The

extractor went limp, then disintegrated.

Daniel absorbed the clouds of black mist,

then fell back against the fence. His breath

came hard.

It was gone. It felt like an hour, but his

watch told him he’d killed it in less than two

minutes.

"I did it." He pumped his fist. He looked

up at the still-gaping hole in the sky and

flipped it the bird. "Keep the change, you

filthy bastards!"

Daniel paused. His watch. He looked at

his wrist. It was still ticking, still colored.

Things he touched was immune from the

dome’s freezing magic.

His senses burned at him.

He snapped his head up. His eyes went

wide. Three black comets were careening

toward the ground. Three. Three more.

Daniel ran in the direction of his baton.

He found it stuck in some bushes just as his

enemies hit the ground. He pressed his

power into his hands and bent it straight. It

was a little crooked. Good enough to hit

things with.

The three extractors were closing fast,

stamping their way down a street between

the houses. He kept his distance, slowly

backing away. They rushed him together. He

used his speed to circle behind them, forcing

them to stop and turn.

He moved quickly to keep them pinned

down—they always swiveled and stomped

about to try and keep him in front of them.

That also made it hard to get in a strike. He

took out an arm on one, than a leg on another,

only risking it when there was an obvious

opening.

It became a war of attrition. They

switched strategies and bunched up,

protecting each other’s backs. They couldn’t

target him because he was circling too fast,

but he couldn’t keep running forever. And

when he slowed down…

He looked at them. They stared back at

him, a triangular formation of solid steel—or

whatever metal they were made from. Their

heads rotated to follow him, sometimes

losing his progress, snapping back when they

spotted him again.

They were machines. They had a

program, a limited number of actions they

could take. That was his advantage. They just

needed the right stimulus, the right bait.

Daniel stopped on one side of the group.

They faced him, two limping, one with a bad

arm. He took a few steps forward, then

away, trying to goad one into leaving the

pack.

One of them raised a palm. Inscriptions

on its wrist glowed. Daniel frowned. He was

too far to be punched.

A black laser shot from the hand.

Daniel didn’t get his arms up in time, but

he was able to activate his armor. The magic

struck him straight on his breastplate. He hit

the street hard, rolling several times until the

curb stopped him. The scent of burning

rubber stung his nostrils. A fist-sized hole

had been melted in his armor.

He scrambled up, but they surrounded

him before he could make his feet. Another

palm was raised, flashing with magic as the

laser charged up. The other two waited.

Daniel dove for the one with a bad leg.

It tried to punch him. He stopped in time, and

its fist flew down in front of him, crushing

the asphalt at his feet. He jabbed it in the

waist with his baton, smashing the spot

where it rotated its torso. It punched again,

but it couldn’t turn properly, and the fist went

far wide.

Daniel drew on his magic and beat its

exposed arm with a flurry of strikes so fast

his baton turned into a grey blur. The

extractor’s limb bent and buckled and

snapped with his blows. The other hand

reached for him. Daniel jumped straight up,

then kicked off the extractor’s chest, sending

himself flying in the other direction.

A black laser whizzed by his head,

singing his shoulder pad. A hand grabbed for

him. He twisted in midair, slapped its fingers

in, and landed outside their ring.