the area above and between those hands.
'Come on!' he screamed at her as he increased his speed. 'Keep coming!'
His voice sounded hysterical but he couldn't let that bother him now. Had to keep that goddamned point up and ram it right through her—
Her head appeared and then she was pulling herself up onto the parapet. Too fast! She was too fast! He couldn't control the wavering point, couldn't lift it high enough! He was going to miss his target!
With a cry of rage and desperation, Jack put every pound of his body and every remaining ounce of strength left to him behind a final thrust against the balled end of the pole. Despite all his effort, the point never reached the level of the Mother's throat. Instead, it rammed into her chest with a force that nearly dislocated Jack's right shoulder. But Jack didn't let up—with his eyes squeezed shut he followed through with barely a break in his stride, keeping all his weight behind the makeshift spear. A moment of resistance to the spear's path, followed by a sensation of breaking free, then it was yanked out of his hands and he fell to his knees.
When he looked up, his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the Mother still there—
No...wait....she was on the other side of the parapet. But that couldn't be. She'd have to be standing in mid-air. When Jack forced himself to his feet, he understood.
The miniature flagpole had pierced the Mother rakosh through the center of her chest. The sharpened end of the pole had exited through her back and come to rest on the parapet of the neighboring building across the alley; the balled end lay directly in front of Jack.
He had her. Finally, he had her.
But the Mother wasn't dead. She twisted on her skewer and hissed and slashed her talons at Jack in futile rage as he stood and panted a mere six feet from her. She couldn’t reach him.
After his relief and awe faded, Jack's first impulse was to push his end of the pole off the edge and let her fall to the ground again, but he checked himself. He had the Mother rakosh where he wanted her—neutralized. He could leave her there until he found a way to deal with her. Meanwhile, she was no danger to him or anyone else.
And then she began to move toward him.
Jack took a quick, faltering step back and almost fell.
Still coming for him! His jaw dropped as he watched her reach forward with both hands and grip the pole that skewered her, then pull herself forward, pushing the pole through her chest to bring herself closer and closer to Jack.
How could he fight a creature that didn't feel pain? That wouldn't die?
He began swearing, cursing incoherently. He ran around the roof picking up pebbles, bits of litter, an aluminum can, hurling them at her. Why the hell not? About as effective as anything else he’d done to her. When he came to the emergency generator, he picked up one of the two-gallon metal cans of diesel oil and went to hurl that at her —
—and stopped.
Oil.
He finally had a weapon—if it wasn’t too late.
The Mother had pulled herself almost to within reach of the roof edge. He twisted at the metal cap but it wouldn't budge—rusted shut. In desperation he slammed the edge of the cap twice against the generator and tried again. Pain shot through the earlier wound in his palm, but he kept up the pressure. Finally it came loose and he was up and scrambling across the roof, unscrewing the cap as he moved, thanking the faulty power grip for the last blackout. Without it, he and the other tenants wouldn't have chipped in for an emergency generator.
Oil sloshed over his bandaged hand as the cap came off. Jack didn't hesitate. He leaped onto the parapet and splashed the oil over the slowly advancing rakosh. She hissed furiously and slashed at him but Jack remained just out of reach. By the time the can was empty, the air around them reeked of diesel fuel. The Mother pulled herself closer and Jack had to drop back to the roof to avoid her talons.
He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached into his pocket for the lighter. After an instant of panic when he thought his pocket was empty, his fingers closed on it. He held it up and thumbed the little lever, praying the oil on his hand hadn't got to the flint. It sparked, the flame shot up—and Jack smiled. For the first time since the Mother had shaken off the damage of five hollowpoint rounds in the chest, Jack thought he might survive the night.
He thrust the lighter forward but the Mother saw the flame and ripped the air with her talons. He felt the breeze as they passed within inches of his face. She wouldn’t let him near her. He couldn't toss the lighter at her and expect an explosion of flame. Diesel fuel needed more than that to start it.
Then he noticed that the pole was slick with the oil. He crouched next to the parapet and reached up to the ball at its end. The Mother's talons raked by, millimeters away from his hair, but he steeled himself to hold his position as he played the flame of the lighter against the oil on the ball. For an agonizing moment, nothing happened.
And then it caught. He watched raptly as a smoky-yellow flame—one of the loveliest sights he’d ever seen— grew and spread across the ball. From there it crept along the upper surface of the pole, straight toward the Mother. She tried to back away but was caught. The flames leaped onto her chest and fanned out over her torso. Within seconds she was completely engulfed.
Weak with relief, Jack watched with horrid fascination as the Mother's movements became spasmodic, wild, frenzied. He lost sight of her amid the flames and black smoke that poured skyward from her burning body. He heard sobbing—was it her? No... his own voice. Reaction to the pain and the terror and the exertion was setting in. Was it over? Was it finally over?
He steadied himself and watched her burn. He could find no pity for her…the most murderous engine of destruction ever imagined. A killing machine that would go on—
A low moan rose from within the conflagration. He thought he heard something that sounded like '
And then she was still. As her flaming body slumped forward, the pole cracked and broke. The Mother rakosh spun to the floor of the alley trailing smoke and flame like the loser in an aerial dogfight. And this time when she hit
