Authors: Ross H Henderson
On the other side of the parking lot where Nick parked, there was a line of five buildings that were all five stories taller or more. They were built close enough together that they included four tight alleys. The alleyway between the nearest two buildings looked the most promising to Nick for what he had in mind.
He whispered to Heath, “Follow me when I go.”
Nick opened the door and all eyes in the bar turned toward him. He gave a smile and slowly closed the door.
“Go!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
Heath flew past Nick until he realized he didn’t fully know where he was supposed to go. He blurted out, “Where are we going?”
“The first alley!”
Heath shuddered at the thought of being trapped in an alley with a group of hypnotized biker-types standing between him and the rest of his life. He hoped Nick Wolfe knew what he was doing.
The group made it outside just in time to see Wolfe at the mouth of the alley. He had waited for them so they could see where he went. They were all muscular and tall. Some were more bluish than others, but they all had these lights going on and off rapidly just under their skin. The girl at the front of the crowd was about five feet, eight inches, but even she looked like she could clear a room.
The alley was tighter than it looked from across the street because of a dumpster stored there; only two men at a time could get through. On the other side of the dumpster the space opened up a bit and Nick was waiting with his weapon drawn. He hadn’t originally intended to bring his gun, but this was a fight for all time. The human race was at stake, and he knew it was going to get messy.
Wolfe cut down two of the thugs while they crossed the street, but waited until the group got closer to shoot any more. He was conservative with his bullets, firing a total of eight rounds. The opening of the alley was narrow, thanks to a large metal dumpster that was situated at the opening. The attackers were coming in a group, and Wolfe was able to line up the targets and get the most out of each shot. In this way, Wolfe killed eight more men with only six bullets. He cut the number in half, and the remaining men had to step over eight dead bodies to get to their intended targets. Heath held his own with a cue stick taken from the dead hand of one of the thugs Paxon brought over. He wasn’t the trained killer that Nick Wolfe was, but he was courageous and resourceful.
There was visible frustration from the Aces Over Eights gang over not being able to get through to Nick and Heath. Then the dumpster was dragged back out of the alley by Paxson and two other men. It had no wheels and made a horrible scraping combined with a creaking, nails-on-a-chalkboard groan. The dumpster was full and probably weighed a ton. Nick had not counted on a few men being able to pull it out. Now the alley was wide open.
The rest of the gang stepped forward. Paxson, Milton, and Wayne stayed near the back to catch their breath after moving the dumpster. Even with the new width of the alley, Nick and Heath were able to keep the group in front of them.
The first of the next wave rushed at Wolfe, who ducked to the side and picked up the man, using his own momentum against him, bringing him up high and then down to the pavement hard. The wind was knocked out of the fighter, an instant before his head snapped back to the pavement. He may not have been dead but he was out for now.
Maynard was the next man rushing in, hoping to catch Nick by surprise. Nick waited until the time was right, raised his left leg into a leap, then brought his right foot up with added momentum into his would-be assailant’s face. He used similar techniques on the rest of the group, and was surprised to see they were adapting very quickly to the techniques it had taken him years to learn. A few even experimented effectively with the offensive moves. The execution of these moves was impressive, especially to Wolfe, who did not learn to fight by watching television.
Despite their ability to learn quickly and their great strength, the group was slower, perhaps due to the growing pains, or a lack of actual real-world practice and the muscle memory that accompanies it. Finally, the group emulated Newton Paxson, who stuck with brute force. It was an inferior style of fighting overall, but it was a style the mutants could master quickly as they learned what they could now do.
Heath saw an open window above him in the old apartment building that made up half the alley. Wasting no time, he got a running start, leapt up and, leading with one foot, used his momentum to jump an extra few feet up a brick wall in the alley. He then grabbed onto the window sill and used the last of his forward motion to hold on with the other hand and hoist himself up into the second floor apartment. Three of Paxson’s men easily copied the move and followed him as he ran through the apartment.
He had hoped more would follow him and take some heat off Nick, but he also knew three of these mutated beings were all he could handle. He ran through the apartment, making use of the walls to hide, but he was careful not to get too close to a wall. They were thin and made of rotted wood and drywall. If someone knew he was on the other side, he could easily break through the wall. Heath’s plan was to take out as many men as he could and come out the front door of the building, behind Paxson and his remaining force.
The apartment was abandoned, but still had a few potential weapons laying around. Heath picked up a Louisville Slugger while running through the bedroom, barely breaking his stride. He turned around and saw someone coming toward him. He swung the bat in desperation. It was caught in the left hand of his attacker, who easily twisted it out of Heath’s hands. Heath ran into the kitchen, looking for a knife. Finding none, he ran back out the way he came in, leading with a flying kick as close as he could duplicate of what he saw Nick Wolfe do earlier. The kick landed in the chest of another mutant attacker. He was not the one who took his bat.
Where was he?
He found out a split-second later, turning just in time to see the huge backswing of the new batter, and was able to duck the blow as he ran by. The blow of the bat went through the hallway wall, sending dust and chunks of drywall everywhere. Roaches poured out of the hole, but no one noticed.
***
Nick gave a slight grin as he saw Heath clamber up the wall to the window. He was impressed with the kid’s athleticism and his courage. He knew Heath was splitting up the group on purpose. He just hoped he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew. These were not normal men anymore; they were hardened criminals with new weapons and a new purpose
—
and they were serious.
For now, he had his own fighting to do; he was left to face Paxson and his new friends, Wayne and Milton. Wayne alone was as big of a man as Wolfe had ever faced in a fistfight, and Maynard Halifax was starting to come back to consciousness.
Paxson shouted, “Maynard, I need you!” and the two ran out of the alley toward the front of the building. Milton tried to get around Wolfe as he faced Wayne. Nick kept backing up in an effort to keep the two men in front of him. Milton pulled out a switchblade. He stuck it out to threaten, but was not used to fighting with it. Usually showing the weapon would be enough to separate some college boy from his money. Nick used the moment of indecision to go on the offensive, striking his neck with his left hand while coming from underneath with his right arm to wrap up his right hand. Wolfe ducked under, going behind Milton and barring his arm with his right arm while using his left to twist his head to the away from his knife hand. The knife dropped harmlessly to the pavement.
Nick then put his foot into the back of Milton’s knee, forcing him to kneel. Wayne ducked out for what seemed like a second and came back with an old metal garbage can. He was visibly angry, not like the rest. Everyone else just seemed like they had a job to do, but Wayne was angry.
“You’re not going to ruin this for me!” he shouted as he brought the can down on Milton’s head. Nick got out of the way with little effort. He realized that the strike was meant for Milton, but the next one had his name on it if he didn’t do something quickly. He got low and kicked Wayne in the knee as hard as he could. Normally this would have been enough to break or at least dislocate a patella. Wayne was still standing, but now he moved with a limp and was even angrier than before.
***
Heath Chesterfield burst out of the front door of the apartment, leading into a short hallway and then into a stairwell. Across the stairs was an identical hallway and apartment door. Heath thought about going into that apartment, but he did not want to endanger anyone else’s life if he could help it. He took his chances in the stairwell. It was so damp and moldy Heath could not imagine anyone living in this building. Voices could be heard coming up the stairs. Heath turned to go back up the stairs but was met by the three men who followed him through the window. The man with the baseball bat did not miss this time.
***
Wayne had had enough of Nick Wolfe’s trickery. While he was coming back up from his low kick, he hoisted Nick up and threw him halfway down the alley, landing with a thud. Nick rolled with it enough to protect his head but had dislocated his shoulder. Before he could get up, Wayne was on top of him. He hit Nick in the face and broke his nose; after a second punch Nick was helpless. Wayne threw him over his shoulder and waited outside for everyone to come out with Heath Chesterfield.
Heath woke up tied to a chair in a dark room. It was actually more like he was pallet-wrapped to the chair. He couldn’t move at all. It was dark and dry, with some dim light coming from what he guessed was a large screen just outside the room. Even though the room was dry, it smelled strange, almost sweet.
“Well, look who’s awake,” Beverly Beckett purred. Heath woke up, disoriented, but jumped as much as he could since he was wrapped up onto a chair. He realized it was Beverly, but her voice sounded like an imitation of Beverly’s voice. He didn’t know her well enough to know what she sounded like; it was more like an imitation of a human voice. The sound was deeper than a woman’s voice normally would be, but also with a tinny overtone, and there were clicking noises between some of the words. It sounded as if she were communicating to someone else in a different language while speaking with Heath.
Is this more pleasing to you, Heath
?
The voice was in his head now. He realized fully where he was now and he was terrified.
There is no need to be afraid
.
“What do you want from me? Why haven’t you taken me over like the others?”
You know why. The same reason we let you go the last time you were here
.
“I have to agree to let you into my body?”
No, we can do that anytime we want to. We need your consent to get into your mind
.
“But you already know I don’t want you in there. I don’t want you in control.”
We believe we can make you change your mind
.
“Is that why you haven’t killed me? You think I can help you if I join your cause?”
Almost certainly. You possess a great many abilities. Some that can be taught, and some that can be used to inspire and lead others
.
At this point Heath noticed Beverly’s hands on his shoulders, massaging him. He couldn’t feel her hands, but he could feel the pressure through the coating that kept him fastened to his chair. It felt good. He felt guilty that he didn’t resist.
You are a credit to your race. Even now you resist, if only with your mind. Even as you enjoy your massage, you’re trying to think of a way to leave this room and escape. It’s futile, but admirable
.
You, like the other humans we have brought on, have the skills, intelligence, and health to lead others, to take what you want. But unlike most of your peers, you recognize what you have. Unlike your peers, you feel the need to share these gifts with others
.
“I’m far from perfect. I’ve done some bad things.”
Yes, but you know that too. Most of you can’t stand the idea that you might not be perfect, so you make yourselves victims, blaming others to avoid the responsibility of striving to be better
.
“These traits that you admire are the same ones that keep me from wanting to let you take over. I’m not a victim, so I don’t need your help, right?”
That is true, but if we can get you to agree to let us in, those traits might become ours
.
“That’s impossible. If I agree to let you in, I’ve given up on my abilities. I would be rejecting the gifts that God has given me, so I’d become one of you instantly, and there is no nobility to be passed on.”
What if you did it to save your friend Nick Wolfe? That’s a noble thing to do
.
“How do you know you would be able to control me? You say ‘we’ when referring to yourselves. I am, and think of myself as an individual. Aren’t you worried that I will infect your collective, that I will corrupt your hive-like mind and break it up with each being declaring its own independence?”
It’s an experiment on our part, one that will be controlled as much as possible. In any case, we feel it’s a risk worth taking to make a better race
.
“Can I see Nick?”