equipment to slim down his frame; if the stone wouldn’t give for him, he’d give for the stone. He pulled a battered silver cigarette lighter from his pocket and looked briefly at the bald eagle engraved on its side.
Alex kept his senses open to the priest’s presence, while keeping his back turned to his approach. In a few more paces he would have moved to a position farthest from the door … and the priest would be closest to it — dangerous for Alex, and giving the priest access to the only exit. But it meant Gonzalez was farthest from Aimee and Saqueo, and a clear target.
Then he saw Sam was forcing his way into the dark room — almost right in front of the priest. Alex wouldn’t be able to use his guns.
Gonzalez stopped and waited.
Sam’s head and shoulders came through the gap; there was a click and a small orange flame sparked into life. The game was up: no more hiding; no more pretending in the dark.
Gonzalez’s roar reverberated around the room and he turned towards Sam.
Alex charged — his own roar of anger barely audible above the priest’s unearthly howl.
In the flickering orange glow of the tiny flame, Sam saw a vision that made him gasp and throw his arm up. Just as he was about to fire, Gonzalez changed course to meet Alex’s attack.
Sam yelled his frustration and tried to force more of his body through the narrow gap. In the weak light, he saw Gonzalez and Alex crash together, the expression on his leader’s face matching the ferocity of his enemy. The impact in the small room was thunderous, and dust rained down around them. The flickering shadows from the lighter flame gave the battle the quality of an old Lumiere stop-motion film.
Sam grinned humourlessly. This time, Gonzalez wasn’t just dealing with the weak flesh of a man. The priest would find this world had its own monsters.
Gonzalez flew at Alex, his black robes flapping like a pair of large, dark wings. His mouth hung open in anticipation of sinking those dozens of rows of teeth into Alex’s flesh.
Alex met the thing mid-flight, the impact loud in the small room. This wasn’t a human he faced and he didn’t pull any blows. His first strike was into the priest’s face, and he was satisfied with the resulting crack of bone and the indentation in the side of his skull.
The blow should have killed Gonzalez instantly, but he wasn’t even slowed.
Alex briefly caught sight of Aimee, who was screaming something to him as she edged towards the door.
He swung his arm once more, putting all his strength into the punch. Instead of connecting with the dead flesh, he found only air. The creature moved faster than Alex could strike. He spun, preparing to launch a volley of ice spikes at the darting form, but it was now a mere shadow within shadows.
The next attack was the priest’s — the side of Alex’s head exploded with pain, and he went down. Bloodied pieces of his shattered communication pellet fell from his ear.
He heard Aimee scream, and saw Sam leap over his fallen form with his sidearm in his hand. Bullets thwacked into the priest, every one hitting its target, but his flesh absorbed them without any sign of the impact.
Sam’s full clip had emptied. He raised the empty gun over his head and swung his arm down hard. It never found its intended target. Gonzalez spun and swatted Sam down like he was an annoying insect. Then he bent, grabbed the HAWC’s large body and raised it above his head in two hands. A yell of excruciating pain escaped Sam’s lips as Gonzalez brought his hands together and snapped his back with a crack like a rifle report.
Gonzalez launched the HAWC’s loose frame at the stone block in front of the door. Sam was a big man, and his body struck the rock with such force that the mighty block ground almost closed. Even in his dazed state, Alex knew his friend was either dead or crippled, and they were all trapped.
Gonzalez stood unnaturally still in the centre of the room, smiling again. Behind him, Aimee and Saqueo stood blindly in the darkness.
Alex felt like he was at the bottom of a deep pit where sounds and images were indistinct. Voices began to scream at him, cutting through the fog, furious vapours that swirled round him. It wasn’t Aimee; she and the boy were mute with terror. He grunted with pain as the voices increased in volume and ferocity, abusing him for his weakness, his cowardice, his dishonour. His second-in-command had been crushed before his eyes; the woman he loved was frightened and vulnerable in the darkness; and all he could do was grovel in the dirt.
Alex punched his fist into the ground, and shook his head to clear it — of the voices and the fog of concussion.
Aimee and Saqueo were too close to the priest to use his gauntlets, so he pulled both his short- and long- bladed Ka-Bars from their sheaths. He shook his head again, this time to clear blood from his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and got to his feet. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he launched himself at Gonzalez.
The priest caught him in midair and held both his forearms fast, the smile never leaving his bearded face. In his mind, Alex heard the dry, grating laugh again. Gonzalez forced him backwards, exerting enormous pressure on his arms, trying to wrench them apart. It would have torn a lesser man down the middle, but Alex resisted. For a few seconds, it seemed they were in balance locked in their deadly embrace.
Gonzalez surged forward and slammed Alex back so hard, his head bounced off the heavy stone wall. His vision swam again. The priest seized the opportunity to lean in towards him and opened his mouth, bringing it close to Alex’s face. Even in the dark, Alex could see the small grey thing rise in the back of the priest’s throat. Hair-like tendrils fluttered in anticipation of its feast and it mewled softly. As Alex watched, the priest’s right eye shrank in its socket then vanished, reappearing in his mouth on the end of a grey stalk. Something living inside the priest was emerging to feed.
Alex strained against the priest’s grip, and the creature slammed him into the wall again and again. Alex screamed his defiance and strained even harder. He brought his knee up into the priest’s groin with a force that should have exploded his testicles. There was no response, other than the inexorable forward movement of that hellish face towards his own.
Alex roared in rage, frustration and revulsion. All he could think of was Aimee; how she was trapped in this dark room. How, if he died, she would be doomed.
The small, questing tendril unfurled towards his eye. He couldn’t move; couldn’t do anything but wait for it to latch onto his face.
He heard the click of Sam’s lighter, then hundreds of spikes punctured one side of the priest’s face, exiting his skull on the other side. Gonzalez roared in pain and turned, and another stream took off the top of his head. He shrieked and disappeared down a small hole in the centre of the room, his dark robes swirling behind him.
Alex fell to his hands and knees, sucking in enormous breaths. ‘Oh God, that was a close one, buddy.’
He turned in the direction the ice spikes had come from, expecting to see his second-in-command’s lopsided, aw-shucks, ain’t-nothing-type grin. Instead, he saw Aimee sitting on the floor holding Sam’s arm up like a cannon; she had one arm wrapped around the gauntlet for aim and the other was curling his hand into a fist. Behind her sat Saqueo, holding the lighter.
She gave him an exhausted grin. ‘Anything else you need … buddy?’
THIRTY-EIGHT
Casey Franks crashed into a tree, and wrapped her arms around it to stay upright. The heat and humidity were exhausting her despite her physical capabilities. She wiped her face; it was wet with perspiration and blood,
