Pestilence Rising Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Gunshots rang out behind us.

  “He said he didn’t want us dead!” I shouted back at them. “Morons.”

  “I can fight them if you want. I'm very strong.”

  “I noticed. Let’s keep that option in mind if we get cornered. I’d rather take my chances with the running first.”

  I had an idea. I turned up the hill, away from the river. When I thought we put enough steps between us and our pursuers, I dove into the foliage, taking Celeste with me. We would have a slight gap in the time between their pass and pudgy Gideon catching up, and during that break, we would run another direction.

  “Why are we waiting?”

  I put my hand over her mouth to silence her as a couple of enforcers went by. They barreled up the trail, practically tripping over each other.

  “Now.” I grabbed her hand, and we were off again.

  A bullet splintered tree bark inches from my head. Gideon was faster than I gave him credit for. Nigel and his overanxious EMF reader trailed behind.

  “Get your asses back here.” Gideon growled.

  We abandoned the trail for rougher terrain where we had to dodge trees and hurdle fallen branches. Celeste had better endurance than I did, despite the wounds to her back. She remained composed, not breaking a sweat or breathing hard like I was. My sedentary lifestyle started to take a toll. My legs burned with the strain of running uphill.

  Our only hope was my sense of direction. If we could maintain a reasonably straight course and not circle back toward our pursuers, we would hit the street, eventually. We were in a city, after all. Skyscrapers and shops surrounded the woods on all sides. We just had to get there.

  Celeste and I landed on Fourth Avenue, a district populated by empty but illuminated office buildings. I reached into my pocket. My fingers closed around my cell phone. My thumping heart leapt in my chest.

  But who does the loner hermit call for backup? The cops? They would take us for lunatics or freaks, especially when they saw Celeste's back. They wouldn't do anything but detain us.

  An interaction with the police also put them in danger. What if they took me to the police station, and the ravaging got away from me? Every scenario involving law enforcement ended badly in my mind: for them, for me and even the woman who suddenly appeared in my living room.

  I dialed up my friend, Teag. When I call him a 'friend', I use the term loosely. Contacting him was risky, but I had no one else. Like me, he worked for the Center, creating online traps for anomalies. Unlike me, he was just a regular guy. We talked pretty often, usually about work or the newest gear they were sending over for us to try out. The man loved his hardware.

  “Who is that delicious slice of woman with you?” He skipped the usual greeting. The fact that he was watching us did not surprise me in the least. He could hack into anything, anywhere. “Is that the Lizzy girl I've been hearing about? Man, she is way too hot for you.”

  “I need to borrow your car.”

  I ducked off the street, into a dark alley where homeless men were hanging out, playing cards on broken furniture reclaimed from dumpsters or mumbling to themselves in shadowy corners. Celeste took in the urine-scented scene with a kind of horrified awe. I wondered how much human life she'd actually witnessed first-hand.

  Teag went silent.

  “Teag?”

  “This is some heavy ass shit you're in right now. I have to report you if you come.”

  “How about I bring this tasty little morsel over for you to meet and then you can report us after we leave. You stay out of trouble, help me out, and meet the girl.”

  “Interesting proposition. I'll think about it.”

  “That's not a guarantee of safety.”

  Teag laughed, “It's more than what you're working with right now.” He ended the call.

  My new friend and I needed to take the train to get to Teag's apartment. We'd be home free if we could get up to the platform without Gideon spotting us.

  Beyond the glass walls of the business district, battered cars and equally battered houses lined the streets. A small group of guys and girls hung out on the curb, passing around brown-bagged bottles. Some kids were out way past their bedtime, but no one moved to bother us.

  “Where are we going?” Celeste asked.

  “We have to take the L train to Teag's house, so we can borrow his car. What's going on with Michael? The last I heard he was working for the church. Is that why he gets an angelic rescuer?”

  My brother was an anomaly, too, only he got a good ability. He could heal someone just by touching them and concentrating. Guess who everyone's favorite was. By the time he reached young adulthood, he figured out the gift could be advantageous in other ways. He started helping people in exchange for money.

  “I was told only that he was abducted, that we must be the ones to save him.”

  “Surely he's made some friends who can help him out of whatever trouble he's gotten himself into.”

  I spotted a train bridge down an adjacent street. We turned that direction, keeping to the sidewalk behind the parked cars. Trees hanging over us offered little in the way of shelter.

  The sprinkle of rain graduated to a shower. It saturated my already wet jacket, my shoes, which were probably toast from all the mud and running through the park anyway. The idea of a warm room seemed more inviting each passing second. I never thought I'd miss the confinement of my hole-in-a-wall apartment.

  The rev of an engine broke the quiet, causing us and an older couple sitting on a porch swing to turn at the sound. It was a Center-issued SUV, a big, ominous black truck packed to the gills with tech and weaponry and tools used for the capture of human beings.

  “Damn.” I tilted my face up to the rain and let it wash over me. “I don't suppose you can turn off that super EMF you emit, can you?”

  “I don't know what that means.”

  Eluding the Center was going to be a giant pain in the ass.

  We ran between the houses, to back yards where the truck couldn't reach us. We passed chain-link fences, a truly pissed-off pit bull, rounded a collapsing maintenance shed to plunge into an alley where ruts in the gravel collected rainwater.

  Celeste stopped, “Why aren't you using your ability on them? You could kill them with a thought, and yet you allow them to chase you.”

  “What I have is an affliction, not an ability. I won't be responsible for anyone else's death.”

  “You may rethink that philosophy when they murder you.”

  Men clad in dark clothing appeared in the alley. They chased us for blocks, gaining quickly, getting closer and closer until a particularly muscular guy made a grab for Celeste's broken wing.

  Her pained shriek pierced the air, and she wheeled around to catch his arm in her long, pale fingers. Her other hand, a closed fist, knocked into his jaw with a force that sent him to the ground in a pitiable heap.

  His cohorts slid to a stop on the gravel behind them. A thick-necked thug fired a bullet at Celeste, hitting her squarely in the shoulder. She cringed but stood her ground.

  “Enough running.” She said to me and then turned back to them, “You wanted to catch us. Here we are.”

  They rushed her - four burly guys who apparently had no qualms about attacking an unarmed girl.

  She kicked the first attacker in the chest, giving him choking spasms that landed him on the ground next to his broken-jawed friend. A second man made a play for her arm. She grabbed and swung him away from her to make space for the throat punch she had lined up for the guy behind him.

  The enforcer she had thrown stumbled into me and when he realized this good fortune, he clamped his meaty hand on my shirt and threw me onto the gravel, jabbing his knee into my spine. With his hands free, he wrenched my arms behind my back and zip tied my wrists together in an effortless motion. He left me to return to the fight.

  Celeste thrust her knee into her next attacker's gut and spun to face the last man standing, the one who had b
ound my wrists. Silvery blue blood trickled down her arm from where she'd taken a bullet, but the wound didn’t seem to affect her movements. She assumed crouch stance.

  Gideon and Nigel hit the alley running, the latter with his eyes on the EMF detector. They had more enforcers in tow.

  I put my knee into the gravel to push myself up. Luckily the guy hadn't hogtied me.

  Having my hands tied behind my back triggered memories of abuse by the Center. Ghostly wounds left by multitudes of blood draws, electroshock piercing my brain, it flooded into my consciousness in a dizzying rush of pain relived. But they never could stop the ravaging. The sickness had grown roots too deep, perhaps in my soul, and now it would rise against them, just as they feared it would. In that moment, I knew how this altercation of ours was going to end.

  Celeste took a swing, and the man who had bound me dodged it easily. The bullet wound and the exertion were finally getting to her. He looped his arm around her neck in a sleeper hold.

  Gideon slowed to a stroll at the sight of this victory, “Now you've ruined your life for nothing, boy-o. This little chicken will make a fine addition to our collection.”

  I struggled to hold the disease inside me. I couldn't let it out because I was terrified I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd had too many nightmares in which I generated a cloud that spread over the city and killed everyone in its path. I could've tried to make a run for it, but that would mean leaving Celeste to the dogs, and I needed her.

  Her adversary forced her to the ground. His arm was still around her neck, and her ability to struggle was waning. He tightened his hold when she attempted to move.

  “Just what are you, anyway? I'm not even sure we have a classification that fits.” He bent down to get a good look at her, tilted her face toward him, and squeezed her cheeks. “And what exactly are these?” He took hold of one of the spikes on her back and gave it a shake.

  She shrieked again, an otherworldly painful sound that caused every dog in a mile radius to howl. Gideon held his thumb and fingers up to inspect them, “This is your blood. Boys, I think we have an alien.”

  “Vesaythe gorhens foalec. I'm not an alien.” She spat at him.

  “Nigel. Language.” He snapped his fingers.

  Nigel lowered his head next to Gideon's, “Not sure. Almost sounds like mangled Latin.”

  “Record it.”

  “I already am.”

  “If not alien, then what are you? English, please, if you would be so kind.”

  “I'm a messenger from God. I'm here to assist Hunter with the search for his brother.”

  “God, huh. Do you think you're the first anomaly to claim divine origins? I'm going to need you to do better than that.”

  I couldn't breathe without releasing the sickness into the air. The urgency of its desire to escape had grown past the point I could stop it; I knew. It coursed through me like a wild animal on the verge of breaking free of its cage. My head spun with my effort to hold it in.

  Celeste said calmly, “Hunter. Do what you need to do for your brother. These men are of no consequence.”

  Gideon backhanded her, “Hunter follows my orders if he wants to live, not yours.”

  I shook my head back and forth, swayed on my feet. I looked up at Gideon, and he looked at me, and realization that I would unleash the ravaging quashed that eternally cocksure attitude of his. He pushed through Nigel as he turned to run. Unfortunately, no one was fast enough.

  I directed the disease at them with the hope it wouldn't hit Celeste. The man holding her toppled sideways into a gravel puddle. The rest of their crew fell after him. They writhed on the wet ground, skin black, eyes wide with terror.

  Only my new friend and I remained unaffected. She rose, rubbing her throat.

  “You okay?”

  “I will be fine.”

  Despite the unsettling nature of what we were witnessing, I had to admit I was almost fascinated by the effect I had on them. I knew enough about the ravaging to realize the importance of repressing it, but this...I had reduced them to near death in a matter of seconds. I was a badass. After all the years they treated me like a dog, they deserved to die in a dark alley with their faces in the dirt.

  She said into my ear, “You have control. Take a deep breath and release them.”

  I did just that, and the sickness dissipated. The men hacked and gasped.

  “We should move on before they recover.” She broke the zip tie binding my wrists with a quick snap.

  “I have to do something first.” I found a cinder block behind a garage and carried it over to smash Nigel's damn EMF reader to shiny bits and pieces. They would just pick up another one from the Center, but I figured that might buy us some time.

  We headed back to the street. A short run later, we were at the base of the stairs leading up to the Blue Line L train we would have to take to get to Teag's place.

  Celeste was fascinated by everything, the turnstile, the train map and graffiti on the wall. She was especially fascinated by the people. Those who decided to brave the elements were a bit more, let's say, eccentric than the usual fare. A woman toted around an iguana like it was a baby. A very old man with Nazi tattoos on his face walked with a scantily-clad woman who could have passed for his granddaughter on his arm. A clean-cut ten year old boy tried to sell us shrooms as we passed.

  “No, thank you. I'm not hungry.” Celeste replied cheerily.

  A guy with a cotton candy pink tuft of hair on top of his head noticed us. He wore no shirt under the suspenders holding up his immensely soiled rainbow pants.

  “I know you.” He stepped between me and Celeste.

  “I don't think you do, buddy.” I told him.

  “I don't believe we've met.” Celeste said.

  After the display back in the alley, I had no doubt that she could handle herself, but I still didn't like the maniac getting close to her. He reeked like three-day old cat piss and cigarettes.

  “Yes, we have. I saw you last night, falling like a meteor. Shooting.” He made a swoosh sound coupled with a motion with his hand from the sky toward the ground.

  She tried to go around him. He stepped in front of her like the gentleman he clearly was.

  He continued, “You killed my friend Lou.”

  “I don't know anyone named Lou. I believe you're mistaken.”

  “Get out of the way. No one but you knows Lou, you goddamn tweaker.” I shoved him.

  “That bitch owes me a Lou, and I'm not leaving until I get one.”

  I took Celeste's arm to keep her close as we moved away from him. No way was I letting him separate us again.

  Rainbow Pants trailed after, “Whore. I always told him some skank would be the death of him. I didn't know she'd drop out of the sky to do him in. Be ashamed. He was a good guy, Lou. He didn't deserve what he got.” Snot ran from his nose over his mouth.

  I didn't have time to deal with his delusions, “Leave us alone or I'll remove you from the platform.”

  He seemed to mentally evaluate this threat, glancing down at the track before deciding that his Lou wasn't worth his life. I'm not a violent guy but that night, with the sickness just begging to get out again and Gideon and his gang hunting us, I could've done anything.

  Our train pulled up to the platform as he retreated back the way he came. The doors opened to a blessedly dry interior. Once inside, I fell into the seat, exhausted. By some miracle, we were alone.

  “I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.” I shook moisture from my hair.

  My new friend was just as fascinated by the train itself as she was the platform, “What is this?” She touched the base of the window and the back of the seat.

  “It's a train. How does your shoulder feel? Do you need a doctor or anything?” Not that I knew a medical professional who specialized in angels.

  “The wound has healed. Who is Lou?”

  “Lou is probably that guy's imaginary friend. Rainbow Pants was nuts. Don't worry about him.” />
  “Nuts?”

  “Yeah, as in crazy. He lost touch with reality. His brain is no longer among us.” I made a UFO sound effect and pointed to my head.

  She nodded, but I could tell she didn't really get it. How do you explain a tweaker to someone who has never lived among us?

  We rode the line up to the Loop and got off. That platform was much saner than the last one, thank God. It was virtually abandoned with no one waiting and only a couple other people disembarking.

  Unfortunately the rain hadn't relented in the least. Water pooled around clogged sewer grates. It overflowed potholes and made ponds of uneven sidewalks. It streamed from gutters and soaked garbage.

  Mannequins in shop window displays taunted us with dry clothes just out of reach. Sign after sign informed us they were closed due to the weather.

  Teag lived blocks away from a nearby intersection. I'd been to his apartment for meetings with Gideon and once for an informal Center party. It was a nice place, sparse, cleaner than my apartment, for sure. The building was brightly lit when we arrived. I pressed the call button.

  “Yeah?”

  “It's me. Can I come up?”

  There was a pause, and the door buzzed. I ran in, thankful to get out of the storm. In the dry interior, the extent of my soaking became almost painfully apparent. My shoes sloshed across the floor. I didn't bother trying to wipe them off, much to the chagrin of the prissy elderly lady at the mailboxes. I removed my jacket and resisted the urge to wring it out in front of the elevator doors.

  Teag's apartment was on the fourth floor. This location was an odd choice for him. Teag loved tech. The building in which he lived was constructed in the thirties. Everything about the art deco hallway screamed old school class, while the inside of his apartment was cold and unapologetically modern.

  Blinking in the warm, hallway light, he pulled on a Bulls jersey as he opened the door. The apartment behind him was dark with the exception of the glare of blue light playing across the hard wood floor. Teag was surprised to see us.

  “You're alone?”

  “We evaded Gideon. Can I still borrow your car?”

  He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stuck his head into the hall to make sure nobody followed us, “How did you manage to do that?”

  “We kicked ass. Can I borrow your car or do we have to steal it?”

  “You're certainly pushy today. Come in. Be quick. I'm not losing my job over you.” He hit the switch next to the door, and the overhead lights flickered to life. He spotted Celeste, “Hey there, sexy-sexy. Come here often?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Want to?”

  “Do you have some clothes we can borrow?” I changed the subject.

  “You mean borrow and never return because Gideon's going to cram you into the deepest, darkest hole he can find?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Wait in here. I'll get you some things I don’t mind parting with.”

  A shelf on the other side of the living room drew Celeste. Colorful, modern sculptures were arranged in front of a painting of a red and orange sunset over a green ocean.

  Computers were set up next to the shelf. Several monitors showed street scenes. The monitor on the far right ran some kind of process. Status updates flashed across the screen. The setup at my house was similar with the exception of personal preferences. The bundle of hardware already felt foreign to me. I would never be able to return to what I did before, especially after I attacked Gideon.

  “I've heard about art,” Celeste broke into my thoughts, “that humans paint us. Why?”

  I shrugged, “Different reasons. Angels can symbolize hope. They're used in some Biblical scenes. Let's face it, the wings are pretty cool, when they're in good shape, I mean.”

  The smile fell from her face.

  “Sorry. I didn't really mean it to come out like that.”

  “Don't apologize. I've said worse about your kind. Do angels symbolize hope to you?”

  “God hasn't done me many favors.”

  She mumbled, “Tell me about it.”

  Teag called me into his room. His furniture was all lacquered black and more soulless modern art occupied the walls. Clothes were scattered on the bed next to a backpack.

  He handed me a set of keys, “It’s a Center SUV. Don’t forget the tracker under the hood.”

  “So you decided to help us.”

  “If anyone asks, you took the stuff by force. I have to admit that I want to see how this plays out. What's the deal, anyway? I always knew there was a chance you would bail, but why now? Why her?”

  I laid it out as simply as I could, even though he wouldn't believe me, “She's an angel sent from God to help me rescue my kidnapped brother.”

  He laughed, “No, seriously. Is she into you or what?”

  “I'm serious. Michael is in some kind of trouble. Do you really think I would abandon my life for a piece of ass?”

  He put a hand on my shoulder, “Stranger events have occurred. You know I had to call Gideon, right?”

  “I figured you did. They're busy picking up a new EMF reader for Nigel. He's worthless without it, you know.”

  “Are you kidding? He's worthless with it. I mean, what is that guy - the butler? What is his function aside from carrying that noise box around? He doesn't fight. He doesn't shoot. I don't think he's even that smart.”

  I changed out of the wet clothes, into a dry Chicago Bears shirt and stuffed the rest into the backpack. I picked up a feminine gray shirt with a tattoo-style graphic of a sparrow on the front and the sleeves ripped off and a pair of black jeans.

  “Where'd these come from?”

  Teag stretched and scratched his stomach under his shirt, “This hot chick I met at the club left them here after a crazy night.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  He came clean, “My sister left it here a couple of months ago.”

  I slung the bag over my shoulder. Teag gave us some bottles of water and a box of protein bars for the road. Celeste changed into the shirt and pants in the bathroom while we waited in the living room.

  “Turn your phone off.” He advised me.

  “I will.” I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder at the door, “You’re a better friend than you let on.”

  “Don't tell anybody. Get out of here before Gideon shows up. The truck is in the lot behind the building.”

  He directed us to a staircase down the hall, which led out the back door to the parking lot. Celeste and I found our ride under a light post. I tossed the pack into the driver’s seat and popped the hood. The tracker was a black box at the back of the doghouse, nestled in a bundle of wires.

  “It's bolted in. I didn't think to ask about tools.” As I moved to see if Teag had a tool box in the back, a crunching, squealing sound came from the hood. I poked my head around the truck to see Celeste drop the blinking box onto the blacktop.

  “Jesus. I'm glad you're on my side.”

  “Jesus?”

  “The expression, not the guy.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Michael's last known location was just outside a town called Galveston in the state of Missouri.”

  “Last known location? Is he there now?”

  “I don't know.”

  “God can't tell you where he is?”

  “He did not choose to provide me with that information.”

  “Super.” I started the engine.

  The gas tank was full. I turned off my cell. And with Celeste the angel in awe of all the lights we passed, we drove into the night, onto the highway to leave Chicago behind. I watched the skyline disappear in my rearview, wondering if I would ever see it or my apartment again and wondering if I really wanted to.