CHAPTER 11

The slayer shot out of the tunnel and onto the sunlit Chicago street. Seabee turned us toward the center of the city, not back toward the safety of the wastes. We were surrounded by more and more ash heaps and rundown buildings.

I was about to tell him he was going the wrong way, but then he yelled, “Hold on!”

Something clicked behind my back. Loudly.

The door beside me opened on its own. My chair flew out and I began screaming. I was jolted to a stop. The jump seat’s gun released, rose and bobbed, and was now pointed toward the rear of the truck. Below me, asphalt rushed past in a blur. My chair was now extended six feet to the side of the slayer by a metal arm.

I grabbed the two handles at each side of the gun in front of me but I hadn’t stopped screaming.

“Will you shut the hell up back there!” Seabee shouted.

I closed my mouth, but that just turned my scream into a nervous hum.

Something exploded behind the slayer. In a flurry of ash and fire, a horde of Flappers, Poppers, and one very large and angry-looking Basilisk burst from the ash heap. It looked like we’d kicked open an over-sized wasps’ nest. The earth continued to regurgitate dragons as the Basilisk led the charge. It didn’t take them any time to spot us. The slayer’s flashing lights made it easy.

“You said it was a Flapper nest,” I said.

“I guess I was one-third right.”

Seabee jerked the slayer into a sharp right turn. My power suit’s elbow grazed the side of a building and caused the jump gun to bounce around. Out of all the buildings in Chicago, the old man had to find the only one with glass still attached in the windows. Broken shards flew all over the place, bouncing off my helmet.

The dragons came around the corner. The Poppers in front skidded in the turn but kept their footing. Their swollen bodies humped along as their big horns seemed to carry them ahead. A few of them shot balls of fire toward us but the shots died mid arc and fell to the ground well behind us. The Flappers came next, turning spirals in the air as if they had choreographed it beforehand.

The Basilisk wasn’t so graceful. The big snake’s bottom half kept going past the turn though its head was pointed at us. The momentum pulled it into the same building I’d grazed with my elbow. Glass, metal, and brick crumbled under the scaly’s weight. It took a few seconds to right itself, but soon it was back on the chase.

How the Basilisk had appeared in my thermagoggles wasn’t too far off from accurate. It had a head and snout like a Drake but without the horns. Everything else was pure, giant viper. The Flappers scattered as the Basilisk roared and broke through them.

“What am I supposed to do?” I shouted to Seabee.

“Shoot ’em! Shoot ’em all!”

“All of them?” I’d been in the Army. How much different could it have been to point at something and shoot? I found the triggers under each gun handle and squeezed. Lasers tore through the air. It took all my strength to keep the gun level. My first shots took out a couple of Flappers but missed the Basilisk by a mile. I put the barrel lower and grounded some Poppers as they ran down the street. The Poppers in the back saw what I’d done and dove into the ground, digging below the surface with those big horns.

The wind blew against my cheeks. It made me feel less secure, another way to remind me I was out in the open and zooming haphazardly alongside a truck driven by a demented old man.

I aimed at the Basilisk.

It was close enough to try a bite at me. I’d be an easy snack, dangling off the slayer like a kabob. With its mouth splayed open, I got a good view of its two long fangs and the weird way its throat came to a thin slit. That’s where I put my shots.

The lasers, golden yellow in their light, pounded into the Basilisk’s throat. It reared back, stopping in the middle of the street as the Flappers continued forward. Poppers erupted from beneath the ground like cresting dolphins. They were closer than before.

Seabee swerved the slayer twice, first left, then right, all within half a second. Fighting dizziness and the sun now in my eyes, I looked away. We were racing along the Chicago river. I saw a half-sunken tourist boat and then something big and sharp-finned cresting the surface of the water before it disappeared.

Oh, please, I thought, keep your big ass in the river.

A cluster of Flappers appeared in my periphery. I turned and blasted them. They scattered but I followed each one, leading my shots. If they’d been smart they would have given up on chasing us, but their hunger was their death.

The ground burst open. A Popper flew out and landed on the metal arm connecting me to the slayer truck. The dragon grunted as it looked around, using its bulging green eyes to take in its surroundings. I saw it looking at Seabee inside the truck. It ran its fat, sloppy tongue over its jaws. If it went after him, we’d both be screwed.

“Hey!” I shouted at the Popper.

It turned its tubby body toward me and began grunting like a cat hacking up a hairball. I spun my chair and knocked it off with the barrel. The Popper hit the ground and exploded in a ball of fire. I must have hit it just in time, right before it spat its flame wad into my face.

“Hold on!” Seabee shouted.

He hadn’t even seen that I’d saved his life. “What do you mean hold on? I’ve been holding on. You’ve got me dangling out here like a worm on a hook!”

“We’re going to have to cross over.”

Those words brought to mind images of wraiths going from this plane of existence into the next. That was terrifying enough. But Seabee had meant we were going to cross over in a different way, a worse way. I turned my chair around to face forward. We were heading for a bridge just ahead. At one point it had connected one side of the Chicago River to the other, but as it stood now, the middle of the bridge was gone and what was left looked to be crumbling.

“Don’t do it!” I yelled.

As if that would have stopped him.

A roar straight out of hell thundered at my back. It’s possible it made my chair shake on its arm. It definitely made my spine spasm. I turned the gun. The Basilisk was back, and right on top of us.

Seabee said, “Shoot it!” as he turned the slayer onto the bridge. The slayer’s engine revved as loud as the Basilisk’s roar.

The big snake was so close I could smell it: rotten eggs and turtle shit. I’d have gagged if my stomach wasn’t already in my throat.

Dark flames sprang from the Basilisk’s mouth in a high-pressure cone.

I felt the slayer leave solid ground and sail into the air as I yelled, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” and pulled the gun triggers. Lasers ripped into the Basilisk’s body, tearing off small chunks of flesh. It wasn’t enough.

The dragon’s flames engulfed the back of the slayer, from the bottom of the airborne tires all the way to the top of the rear emergency lights. My hands tensed against the trigger. Lasers flew all over the place. I’d quit trying to aim, expecting the fire would take me too. The flames didn’t reach that far, though I could still feel them. The heat was almost enough to burn the air entering my lungs.

The slayer slammed into the ground on the other side of the river. With a sound like cannon fire, the rear tires burst. Sparks flew from the bare wheel bearings, the flames spread, and none of Seabee’s fancy wheel spinning stopped it from turning over.

My stomach should have gotten a gold medal for all the flips it did. I was thrown to the side and then into the air, hanging sideways. The slayer rolled onto its passenger’s side and skidded fifty feet. I was so freaked out I forgot to release my hold on the gun’s triggers. Lasers flew into the sky above us. I was sure every dragon within twenty miles would see the accidental signal and come rushing.

But the Basilisk had gotten there first.

The lasers suddenly stopped and no matter how hard I squeezed the triggers, nothing was happening. The back of the slayer still burned. I looked to the nearest emergency light. It didn’t flash. The engine had died. No power meant no lasers.

From the other side of the river the Basilisk had watched us wreck. Now it watched us burn. With a low growl, it curled around the underside of the broken bridge, slithering around and around, crossing the gap between one broken end and the next. The Basilisk twisted slowly closer. It knew it didn’t need to rush.

It kept its eyes on me, almost like it was gloating.

Along the opposite bank, the Poppers watched. It didn’t take them long to decide we weren’t a meal worth fighting for. Besides the bigger dragon, there was no way they could have dug under the river without the chance of getting themselves drowned in the process. They made subtle chirps before burrowing into the street, leaving us to the Basilisk.

“Seabee,” I said.

He didn’t answer.

The Basilisk uncurled from beneath our side of the broken bridge. It rose up tall and pulled the rest of its body onto the street. Moving from side to side, it looked like the big dragon was doing a dance to the music of our final breaths. Seabee may have already been dead.

From where I hung in my seat, the street below looked a thousand feet away. In reality, it might have been twenty to thirty. That was still a long drop. I grabbed the side of my chair, made sure I had a good hold of it. The Basilisk’s growling didn’t do a damned thing for my nerves but I had to concentrate.

I took two deep breaths and took the belt buckle into my free hand. I pressed the release button. My body swung down and the weight of it pulled at the arm clinging onto the chair.

The power suit was great for taking hits and heat, but it was shit when it came to preventing dislocated joints. It didn’t add any superhuman strength so I had to rely on my own weak arm to keep me from dropping. I was going to fall one way or another. I just couldn’t make myself take the initiative.

The Basilisk made the decision for me. All fifty-plus feet of the scaly rose over me. It was so big it blocked the sun from view. It reared back, ready to strike.

I let go. My knees and back took a lot of the impact, even though I tried to roll out of it. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes as I got to my feet. The Basilisk went for the empty chair. In one bite it took off half the cushion and metal bracket.

I stumbled over to the truck’s windshield and looked inside. Seabee hung from his seat belt. His eyes were closed. I couldn’t tell if he was still breathing.

The windshield was cracked but remained mostly intact. I engaged my laser sword and pierced the glass. The Basilisk made a rasping noise high above me. I heard its heavy body rubbing against the ground. It was getting closer. My whole body shook but I focused on the job. Any distraction would slow me down. With a few more cuts, I made a hole big enough to crawl through.

I squeezed inside the cab and crawled over to Seabee, put my ear to his mouth. His breath puffed against my cheek.

All right, old man, I thought. We’ve made it this far.

A giant reptilian eye filled the window next to Seabee.

I hit Seabee’s belt buckle and caught him as he fell from the chair. The Basilisk’s snout broke through the window. I covered Seabee’s face with my arm as the glass fell onto us. I hoped it was enough.

The dragon’s slimy forked tongue flicked to and fro inside the cab, slobbering over the driver’s seat, the pedals, the steering wheel. I had no doubt the scaly was strong enough to wrap that tongue around one of us and pull us into its jaws. But it couldn’t reach us. Not yet. If I didn’t get us out of there soon the Basilisk would try with its fire breath.

Speaking of fire, the damn truck was still burning. The smoke began to surround us.

I grabbed Seabee under the arms and scrambled backwards. It was like pulling a cement block. My head made it through the hole in the windshield. The Basilisk was still busy trying to snatch us through the window. My muscles burned. Every fiber of my body begged for me to stop but I couldn’t. Maybe there was another way.

I wrapped my right arm around Seabee and hit the power jump button on my left glove. We flew from the slayer truck like a skipping stone. But the noise of my power suit’s thrusters caught the Basilisk’s attention.

Seabee coughed and blinked his eyes open. “What happened?”

There was no need for me to tell him. The big snake slithered around the truck and bent over us. It hissed, then breathed in as it curled backwards. Dark and fast, its flames would turn us to ash, like everything else around.

A bright blast of blue energy struck the Basilisk’s head. It fell to the ground, shrieking and flopping, its tail flicking heavily over our heads. Blood spurted from its wound, splattering my face. A siren wailed. To our right, the ashes crunched underneath something heavy as it ground to a stop. Purple and white lights flashed from its roof and all along its sides. The black paint was faded from use and neglect and boasted a few dents and scratches. Way bigger than the slayer, it wielded a huge gun barrel on its roof, like fire department aerial ladders.

Holy-fucking-shit, it was a smoke eater cannon truck with a number fifteen slapped on its side.

A black woman in a power suit jumped out of the truck’s passenger side and leapt into the air toward the Basilisk. The dragon writhed against the ground as the woman hit it with a blitz of lasers as she sailed down, landing on its neck as if she intended to ride the scaly. But the dragon stayed down, barely able to raise its head to bite at the woman. It puffed out a blast of fire, but the woman shot a wad of foam into its throat with her other arm.

From the back of the cannon truck, a big man stepped out and opened one of the bin doors. He walked toward the Basilisk with a big metal rod resting against his shoulder. When he was halfway to the dragon, he pushed a button on his pole. Laser light sprang from the end and formed the shape of an axe blade. The large man didn’t bother with leaping onto the dragon like the woman. He walked over to its head, dodging a few bites from the jaws, and buried the laser axe into the scaly’s skull.

The Basilisk went still.

“Eat that, bitch!” said the woman standing on the scaly’s neck. She jumped to the ground and joined her partner as they walked over to us. “You boys from out of town?”

The man helped Seabee up with an easy tug of his arm. The woman grabbed both of my hands and helped me to my feet. When she turned to Seabee, she backed away a few steps and stared at the old man with angry eyes and a mouth that hung open in disbelief.

“Hey, Tamerica,” Seabee said to the woman, with a guilty hang of his head. He turned to the enormous smoke eater standing at his side, saying, “Afu, you look good, man.”

Tamerica stomped over to Seabee, she swung a fist and cocked the old man across the jaw. Seabee dropped onto his ass and stared up at his assailant, but he didn’t seem to have a shred of surprise on his face. He rubbed at the red mark on his chin with the tips of his armored fingers.

“You motherfucker,” Tamerica said. “Cole Brannigan, if you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you myself!”