listening to a radio with one ear and to his phone with the other. He was nodding, and it wasn't in time with the music throbbing from the far end of the lot either. Franks put one massive hand on my chest and shoved me back against the passenger side door. 'Stay here.'
He didn't want to get in trouble for bringing me.
'Watch him,' Franks told the Goon Squad, then he turned and went to his superior's side. Torres took the front of the vehicle, Herzog the rear, and Archer stayed right by me. The three agents folded their arms, rifles dangling from their tac-slings, as they waited for me to try something else stupid. I suppose at this point I should consider myself in custody, though the MCB weren't the kind of cops who read people their rights… Last rites, maybe. Myers glanced up, obviously surprised to see his subordinate. They were far enough away that I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Myers appeared really ticked when he saw me. He began to shout and gesture wildly, but Franks said something that seemed to placate his boss momentarily.
I had to do something. We were just going to sit out here until the bad guys attacked. Mosh was toast. I could probably kick the crap out of some of them and make a run for it, but even if I were to somehow ditch them, my guns were sitting in the back seat, and I would have to run across a couple hundred yards of parking lot, only to arrive unarmed where Condition assassins were stalking Mosh. So scratch that plan. Maybe I could pull it off if I had some help. Torres seemed like the least obnoxious of the bunch, but he was further away. 'Archer,' I whispered to the nearest agent. 'Those hit-monsters are going to murder my brother. We've got to get in there and save him.'
'Shut up,' he said angrily, apparently still offended that I had threatened to shoot his commander. 'We're following orders.'
'Is that why you volunteered for this? Letting civilians get slaughtered right under your nose, so you could follow orders? Come on, man. Do the right thing.' We were at the far side of the parking lot, well away from the crowds, but I nodded toward the throngs on the steps of the amphitheater. 'How many of those kids have to die tonight?'
Frustrated, he grabbed me by the straps of my armor, 'As many as it takes, damn it! You don't know what the Condition is capable of. They have to be stopped!' Then he tried to shove me against the SUV, but apparently he had forgotten that I was a giant brute of a man. I outweighed the thin agent by probably a hundred and thirty pounds. He barely succeeded in budging me.
'Yeah, Franks makes it look easy,' I said.
Feeling stupid, Archer let go. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously, but his eyes were cold, angry, and he kept one hand on the pistol grip of his M4 carbine. 'Just shut up, okay.' He jerked his head toward the improvised command center where his superiors were conferring. 'Agent Myers knows what he's doing. He's a pro. Look… I don't want your brother or anybody else to get hurt, but this is bigger than he is. This cult, they're trying to awake something evil.' Archer realized he was talking too much. 'Never mind. Just shut up.'
The Fed wasn't going to budge. I had to think of something else, fast.
There was movement over Archer's shoulder. Something small and black scurried low between the tightly packed rows of cars, then another shape, and another. How could I have been so stupid? I had forgotten all about them. A goggled head poked up over a Volkswagen's hood, scanned the contingent of Feds and then glided back down, unseen by everyone but me.
I softened my tone. 'Look, Agent Archer, I'm not trying to be a jerk, but can I get a Kleenex or something? I'm bleeding all over my armor.' I gestured at my swollen nose. It really hurt, so that part wasn't an act.
'Serves you right…' He hesitated, scowling, but finally relented. 'Okay, hang on a second.' He reached down and pulled open the Velcro tab on his first aid kit. He didn't see the thing crawling out from under a nearby car, then rising silently behind him. The orc grabbed Archer by the strap on the back of his armor while simultaneously kicking both knees out from under him. The agent fell backward, pulled by the weight of his armor and equipment, crying out in surprise.
It was my old pal, Edward. I only recognized him because he moved so smoothly that he made Bruce Lee look rickety. The orc didn't even slow. He covered the distance to Torres, leaping into the air at the last second as the younger agent turned to see what the commotion was about. Edward's heel collided with the Fed's chest, kicking him back. Torres collided with the hood of a car, tripped, and sprawled onto the pavement. There was a thud from the other direction as another black shape cracked Herzog over the head with a club. Gretchen didn't have Edward's moves, but she was mighty handy with her totem stick. The female agent went to the ground in a heap.
The passenger door of the SUV from Hell flew open. 'Noble One, hurry fast,' Skippy ordered. Franks had left the keys in it. I jumped into the seat as Gretchen climbed into the back. Still on the ground, Torres pulled his pistol, but Edward was on him in an instant and kicked the HK across the lot. The orc bent over and slugged Torres in the face, knocked him silly, spun him on his back like a turtle, and dragged him effortlessly over to Archer. He kicked the first agent again as he was struggling to rise, snatched a pair of handcuffs off Torres' vest, and locked one agent's wrist to the other one's ankle.
Skippy cranked it and the demon engine roared like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. He slammed it into reverse and the tires spun as we flew rearward, smashing the back armored bumper into a parked Corvette. The Corvette lost.
Thirty feet away, Franks' head snapped up. His hand flew under his coat and came out with a fat Glock. Skippy put it in drive and the massive vehicle jumped forward, Gretchen holding the door open as Edward dove through to safety. Franks aimed at Skippy but hesitated, probably more worried about his truck than violating his primary mission. Then we were speeding past. 'Big Fed. Look mad,' Skippy grunted as he put the hammer down.
I whipped around to see Franks sprinting after us, gun in hand. Skippy wasn't kidding. He looked pissed.
All orcs have gifts. I don't know how it works exactly, but each of them has a unique ability. Edward's was kicking ass. Gretchen was a remarkable healer. And Skippy, leader of the MHI orcs, brother of Edward, and husband of Gretchen (wife one of five), was a helicopter pilot of almost supernatural skill. However, that ability apparently didn't translate into driving ground vehicles, as Skippy smashed the SUV brutally right down a line of parked cars, flinging headlights, glass, and bits of plastic in every direction. Concertgoers were forced to dive for safety as Skippy high-speed crunched his way toward the amphitheater entrance.
'I'm glad to see you guys!' I shouted as Skippy drove over a parked Suzuki motorcycle. Our shocks absorbed the impact rather well. 'We've got to get to my brother. Mosh is in danger.'
The orcs in back just started passing my confiscated weapons back to me. They never talked much anyway. Skippy piped up as I tucked various guns and knives-even a kukri! — back into their respective spots. 'Yes. Joo-Lee call. Say, Great War Chief… in much danger. Twins come. Take soul.' His super-gravelly voice sounded angry. His people venerated metal and its musicians above all. A threat against my brother, whom they called the Great War Chief, was serious business. 'Twins kill many Urks before… now Urks turn. We go find
… Brother of War Chief. See gub mint.' He lifted the base of his hood, revealing his tusks, and spit on the steering wheel. Orcs were probably the only people I had ever encountered who had more issues with authority than Hunters. 'Gub mint, take you prisoner. So we save.'
'Who do you have here?'
Skippy shook his head. 'Only few… Grtxschnns, Exszrsd, and-' he grumbled his real, incomprehensible name, reminding me again of why we called him Skippy. 'With gub mint here, send tribe away to village. Go home. Be safe. We… we stay for help.' He was right. Orcs, even the ones that stayed with MHI, were still on the PUFF list, and thereby fair game to the Feds. What these three were doing was incredibly brave.
'They're heading for the front entrance,' said a voice on the radio. 'Intercept! Intercept!'
'Belay that order,' Myers said. 'All units hold position. Wait until we get a shot at those monsters. Pitt, you obstinate pain in the ass, I know you can hear me. Don't you dare go in there.'
I grabbed the radio and pulled the mike over to me. 'Myers, that's my family we're talking about.'
'They'll kill you,' he said.
'Yeah, heard that before.' I ripped the cord out of the radio. It felt good. Skippy held up his pointer finger and pinky and threw the horns. Rock on. 'You guys armed?'
'No. Security,' Skip's hood dipped toward the rapidly approaching concert entrance's row of metal detectors. Gretchen held up her totem stick, complete with feathers and small animal skulls, that she had somehow snuck in. There were two sudden clicks as Edward flicked open the ASP collapsible batons he must have lifted off of Torres and Archer. Edward was a lousy shot, but death incarnate up close. I pulled my big. 45 and passed it over to Skippy.
