He raised his gun. “Is there someone else here?”
“Not yet. But don’t worry, he’s on his way.”
He looked around. “Who?”
“You’ll see. Unless you want to take off now. I’d really recommend that, actually.”
“Is that a threat?” he half-shouted. He wasn’t about to shoot me, but that didn’t mean his gung-ho aggressiveness didn’t come off as a little disturbing. (Guns and short fuses never go well together.) He also knew there were other people out there looking for me who were willing to do the same thing to him that he and his partner had just done to the first guy, and that had to make him a bit edgy.
“It’s no threat. It’s a warning,” I said. “There are other things out here tonight that are worse than you.”
“No shit,” he scoffed. “That’s why I invited my friend to help secure the perimeter.”
“Is that what you’re calling murder now?” Clara asked.
“No ma’am. I call that business.” He pointed his M-4 at her. “You know another one of my favorite terms? Collateral damage. Maybe you want to take the deal that fella on the ground there offered you and start running. This doesn’t concern you.”
The ZIP of his partner’s rifle halted any further negotiation. Clara and I winced instinctively at the sound, but no dirt kicked up and neither of us collapsed suddenly in a heap. It was followed by three more shots. The sniper was shooting at somebody else.
G.I. Joe in front of us put his finger to his ear. “Falcon Two, what’s going on?”
How cute. Only two of them and they still came up with team codes.
I took a look at the distant tree that I’d spotted Falcon Two in. “What’s he say?”
“There’s someone moving out there,” Falcon One said. (I’m assuming he was Falcon One.)
“I hear it,” Clara said, turning to look as well.
I did, too. Something very large was barreling through the Central Park trees.
We heard two more reports from the rifle and then the tree Falcon Two was in shuddered. This was followed by a loud thump and then a sickening whump and a high-pitched, very brief scream pierced the air.
“Falcon Two!” Falcon One shouted into his ear-mike. “Billy, what happened?”
Silence.
“Billy’s dead,” I said.
“Like hell,” he argued, even as he readied his rifle.
“No, he’s really dead,” I insisted. “That second sound was his chest cavity being forcefully imploded. It’s not the sort of thing you mistake for something else.”
“Fuck you.”
“If you were listening carefully, you probably heard the ribs snap.”
Falcon One stepped in front of us and aimed his rifle at the tree area where his friend had just died, not particularly concerned that I could disarm him from that position. It was disturbingly quiet.
“Clara,” I whispered. “Human beings don’t like killing pretty young women. What’s coming doesn’t give a damn.”
“What is it?” she asked, sounding panicky.
“Just run. Get out of here. I’m not kidding.”
“Yeah,” she said, backing away. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” She tugged at my sleeve. “Come with me.”
“I can’t. It’s after me. If they can’t deal with it, I’m going to have to.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked at me, now thoroughly terrified. Clearly this was a good deal more trouble than she had been looking for. She nodded, then turned and ran.
“Maybe you want to tell me what this is?” barked Falcon One over his shoulder.
“Sorry, pal,” I said. “I already gave you your warning.”
He spun around and pointed the barrel at my chest. “Tell me what it is!” he demanded. Having his buddy killed kind of shook him up for some reason.
“You wouldn’t believe me. But I can give you some advice.”
“Go on.”
“He’s big, he’s much faster than he should be, and you should try and aim for his head. I don’t know if a chest shot will do much good.”
The truth was, I was hoping this guy could take care of my demon problem for me. That was basically the plan. Attract a bunch of armed men into a secluded location and then invite the demon to come and play. I was hoping guns had more of an effect than swords, maces, and spears did. Of course, in my mind I pictured a lot more armed men. I also didn’t think they’d be so unconcerned about killing one another. Really, they couldn’t figure out how to split five million?
We were about twenty yards from the copse of trees where the demon was hidden, so it had a major open space to traverse in order to get within striking range, provided it wasn’t armed. I was going with the assumption it wasn’t, because guns have triggers and triggers require little, human-sized fingers, and demons don’t have human- sized fingers.
The two of us stared at the trees and waited. And waited.
“Fuck this,” he said, finally. “We’re going.”
Just then a loud roar pierced the air. My gun-toting maniac companion freaked and started firing indiscriminately into the woods, which made a hell of a lot of noise because unlike his partner, he wasn’t using a silenced sniper rifle. That would surely send the police our way.
The problem was he wasn’t firing anywhere near the demon. It had moved to our right, a fact we both discovered a second too late when it emerged and started charging.
Falcon One showed less than iron fortitude, I have to say. He did turn and fire in basically the correct direction, but in terms of marksmanship most Boy Scouts would have done better. I mean we’re talking about a big target moving forward on a direct path. Pitiful. I used to face charging lions in the Serengeti with nothing more than a stone axe and a loincloth. People today disappoint me.
His best chance to score a decent hit—while the demon was closing the gap—fell apart when it threw something that struck the soldier square in the face, knocking him onto his back. It took me a second to realize what the demon had thrown. It was Falcon Two’s head. I never saw a lion do that.
I stepped back and watched as the demon neatly dispatched Falcon One in a manner that I don’t think you need to have described. I will say that it took a few minutes, because even after the guy was dead the demon needed a little extra time to play with the corpse in what can only be called vivisection by fist. It was not unlike what happened to Gary and Nate.
When he’d finally calmed down, I asked, “Are you finished?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Ain’t you gonna run?”
“You’ll just keep chasing me,” I said.
“Yep.”
He stood. He was a bit shorter than the ones I remembered, and not quite as stocky. He was also fully clothed, which took a little getting used to. In the poor lighting he actually did look human. I imagined during the day he wore lots of hats, and maybe mittens or something.
“So, we goin’ now?” he asked.
“Not just yet,” I said. Okay where were all the bounty hunters now? You’d think at least one would have a bazooka. But no, it was just the demon and me. Perhaps they all realized five million wasn’t worth dismemberment. I could have told them that.
“You killed a couple of friends of mine,” I commented.
“Did I?” He looked down at the body at his feet.
“Not them. In Boston.”
“Oh.” He still looked puzzled, like maybe he’d killed a whole bunch of people in Boston and wasn’t sure which ones I was talking about.
“College kids. In an apartment. They had a futon in the living room?”
