each shoulder, one clearly crushed and broken by the fall. Its face was a skull now, but about the size of a five- gallon bucket and filled with teeth that looked like rusty nails. Blank eye sockets swiveled toward me.
It took me a couple of shots in the dark before the skull exploded into powdery fragments. It dropped.
Franks appeared. His breathing was ragged. 'I hate flying coach.'
'Man, you're a regular comedian tonight,' I said as I jerked another magazine out of my pocket and reloaded. 'We've got to keep going, more bears coming fast.' But he didn't respond. When I glanced back, he was facedown into the kudzu. 'Aw hell.'
Grant had kept on running for the workshop and I could no longer spot him in the dark. I could, however, hear the undead getting closer. Franks weighed a ton. The smart thing to do was leave him here. It wasn't like I owed him any mercy. This whole thing was his and his stupid organization's fault.
I actually made it a couple of steps toward the workshop before I stopped. He wouldn't have left me. 'ARRGHH! Stupid Fed. Stupid Franks.' I scooped him up, got one arm over my shoulder, and shouted in his ear, 'Move your ass!' His big head lolled to the side. He was unconscious. 'Oh, it can never be easy. Never! Easy!' I heaved him into a fireman's carry. The kudzu vines dragged at my boots. The shuffling, metallic snorting of the undead was getting closer. Safety was still a hundred yards away. I kicked my feet through the thick plants and tripped and stumbled for safety.
I could see the workshop clearly now. Someone was moving in one of the windows, a long tube on their shoulder. I cleared the kudzu and could run again, slipping through the dirt, ankle throbbing with each step. A terrible noise came from the workshop and a streak of fire tore past. The trees behind us exploded. Rocket launcher. Oh, these monsters had picked the wrong place to mess with.
More rockets followed. Judging by the rate of fire, Grant had reached the workshop and was joining in. Milo had a ton of stuff stashed.
'Pitt!' A voice bellowed behind me. 'I'm coming for you.'
The Englishman.
I risked a glance back. A towering thing was making its way through the smoke and falling debris, each footfall shaking the very earth. It had been an elephant once, and a big one, a majestic beast, but now its ivory tusks were sheathed in iron, its head plated in steel, its bones wrapped in wire and Kevlar sheets. Riding on its back was my nemesis. He was no longer wearing simple clothing, but had dressed for the occasion with an ornate black robe, a golden pendant of his squid god on his chest. His rough features shifted under the shadows of his cloak.
'Hood,' I spat.
He raised one hand, signaling a halt. The zombie elephant reared up on its hind legs, rising high into the air, blowing air through its dusty lungs like a damaged tuba. It came back down, forelegs slamming into the dirt with an impact that shifted the ground underfoot. 'So you know my name… There's power in knowing one's name.' There was another bear, and something that looked like it had been stitched together out of a German shepherd and a goat, and behind them were at least a dozen humanoid zombies, all in various states of augmentation. His troops began to fan out in a circle around me. 'How did you find out?'
Franks was dead weight on my back. There was no way I was going to reach the workshop now, so I slowly lowered him to the ground. 'Carlos Alhambra told me.'
The shadow man nodded, unsurprised. 'Killing him would have been smarter, but he deserved to suffer.' There was another concussion from the workshop, but Hood merely waved his hand in the direction of the oncoming rocket. The darkness seemed to coalesce and solidify, and the warhead detonated harmlessly well short of us. 'Destroy that nuisance,' he ordered, and several of his minions immediately charged the workshop, scampering off through the swirling wall of black.
The wall blocked the lights of the workshop, but Milo's rocket fire had ignited the small copse of trees, and I had some flickering light to work with. But it was even dimmer than what I had in Mexico, and he had been virtually unstoppable there.
'You got what you came for. Let the others go and I'll come with you.'
He laughed above me. 'Oh, come on, mate. You had your chance to do it my way. I've squandered years of work for this moment. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to put together an army of the dead? I've been collecting corpses like some people collect stamps.' He stroked the mottled, rotting back of the elephant. 'But tonight has put quite a dent in my collection. So, no, I'm going to see the heart torn out of MHI before I go.'
'Where the hell do you get dead elephants anyway?' I asked.
'The internet,' Hood responded. 'Zoos, circuses, that sort of thing.'
'Oh…' I still had the AK in one hand. He saw me thinking about it, and shook his head.
'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'
'If you were me, I'd kill myself,' I responded. 'And you know.. that's not a real bad idea…' I raised the hot muzzle and stuck it under my chin.
He stood on the back of his mount. 'Wait!'
'Delivering me with half my head missing might piss off the Dread Overlord, don't you think?' I stuck my finger on the trigger. I wasn't bluffing. 'Call off your army and I'll go with you. Otherwise I blow my brains out and you've got to break the news to your super oyster.'
'Hold on,' Franks whispered from the ground. He'd woken, and had reached into his suit, pulled out a flask, and was unscrewing the lid. Hell of a time for a drink…
Hood's voice was soothing. 'You don't want to kill yourself. Suicides go to hell, you know.'
'Oh, like you believe in hell,' I muttered.
'Got me there, but we can still work this out. Alive is preferable, just for the amount of suffering that he can inflict on you, but dead? I could probably clean you up right well, if you leave me no other choice.' He seemed to grow angrier the more he thought about it. 'You think you can threaten me with your death? I'm a king of death! Look around you! Death is my servant! Death is my art!'
Franks put the flask to his lips and poured the contents down his throat. He grimaced in pain as if the liquid really burned going down. Some of it spilled out and dripped down his face. It glowed blue in the dark.
That got Hood's attention. 'Well, well, well… Special Agent Franks, I'd almost forgotten about you. I see that you've some of the Elixir of Life. I always wondered how something like you managed to stick around for so very long. Personally, I'd thought that Herr Dippel had taken the formula to his grave. You really must give me that recipe.' Franks dropped the flask and began to convulse in the dirt. Hood shook his head sadly. 'Painful, and wasteful. You can't expect a dosage of the Elixir to save you now.'
Franks was shaking badly as he struggled to his feet, using my belt for help. I kept the AK pointed at my brain. I could hear his body reacting to the potion. Franks' bones were popping. The veins in his face were pulsating. The shadow man was obviously surprised by this development. Franks smiled, teeth white in the dark. 'One dose? Try five, asshole.'
Hood paused. 'Impossible… No flesh could withstand that level of purification.'
'You've got to work up to it.' My protector shrugged out of his coat and yanked off his clip-on tie, Glocks dangling on both sides from a double-shoulder holster. His shirt hung in a blood-soaked ruin. The firelight flickered across his body. The muscles in his neck throbbed and pulsed. He pulled off his strangler gloves and tossed them to the side, the bones in his hands cracking as he rolled them into fists.
His left hand had HATE tattooed across his knuckles…
The dead trucker in Montgomery had that same tattoo.
No. That was the dead trucker's tattoo… That was the dead trucker's arm.
My mouth fell open and I almost dropped the AK. Franks spoke quietly, 'Primary mission. Protect Pitt from the Condition.' He glanced over at me, one blue eye reflecting the firelight and nodded through gritted teeth. 'I've never failed a mission.'
Franks was built out of spare parts…
The shadow man, suddenly afraid, gestured at his undead. 'Take them!'
The monsters surged forward. I jerked the AK down and opened fire. Franks crossed his arms, then whipped them outward, a Glock appearing in each hand, firing with terrifying accuracy right through the joints in the zombies' helmets. The elephant bellowed, stampeding forward, coaxed on by its master. Hood shouted a maniacal cry as the elephant bore down on us.
There was a blur of motion as something leapt through the air onto the elephant's back. Earl Harbinger
