Stephen Leigh - Card Sharks

For the moment the mob had lost interest in chasing us, but they hadn't forgotten us. Guns flashed. Billy Ray grunted again as more bullets hit him.

I grabbed Ackroyd by the arm. "In the name of God, come on! There's nothing we can do!"

"They'll rape her!"

"They'll do worse to us if they catch us. Run, you idiot."

He flailed at me with his arms. I slapped his face. Then I took my own advice. He followed, weeping.

Lady Black was helping support Ray. The pain and sheer structural damage were taking toll. Another man would've been dead long since. He was still on his feet, if barely.

Yeah, he had his ace, that gave him strength and endurance and the power to regenerate damage — if that system hadn't been overloaded by what was done to him. What kept him going now had nothing to do with the wild card. It was guts.

Lady Black had them too. If I'd been her, and seen what was happening to my fellow female up the alley, I'd have taken off in huge bounds like a gazelle.

Oh, yes, we were a gutty bunch. Even Ackroyd, who'd stood his ground as long as any man ever did in the face of odds like that. The problem was those odds. Comes a time when they beat guts, every time.

— The pack was holding itself up in the narrow alley, fighting like hyenas over the spoils. Rape was gone from even their reptile brains by now — I hope. I saw one wave something white and slim above his head, brandishing it like a trophy. Damsel's right leg, I think it was….

Around the building, out onto the street. And after all we'd survived and sacrificed, we weren't home free: here came a fresh bunch around the next corner back from the alley, waving swords and clubs and cheering as if Tehran had just won the World Series.

Lady Black and Billy had fallen inevitably behind. Ackroyd and I looked at each other. In his eyes was raw hatred, but also raw determination. We turned and faced the mob, prepared to go down fighting.

Bearded faces opened in triumph. Clawed hands reached for Joann and Billy. Jay was popping the bastards, and I was running through magazines as fast as my piece would cycle.

It was all for nothing.

Lady Black let go of Billy and stepped to the side. She reached to the front of her baggy blouse, tore it open. Then she grabbed the neck of her protective black suit and pulled it down to her navel, baring her chest.

The sheer unexpectedness of it made the crowd falter briefly a few steps from her. Possibly they were admiring the prizes they were about to lay hands on.

White light exploded from Joann's face and chest. My vision went away for a moment.

When it returned, I could just make out a street filled with writhing bodies. As I blinked away great bright balloons of afterimage I saw that many had their faces seared and fingers seared away. Others lay still, blackened to motionless mummies.

Joann stood there with a faraway look in her eyes. "It's been building for a long time," she said. "Building and building."

I grabbed the hanging front of her suit and pulled it up. She nodded, absently, and started pulling it back into place. The pursuit was off our tails. For the moment. We turned and made what speed we could.

"Archangel One, Archangel One, do you have an answer yet, over?"

With a little room to move, we had found a three-story building with pointed-arch doors and windows and climbed up to the roof. Since our pursuers didn't know where we were, the risks of staying at street level outweighed the risk of being trapped up here.

Down in the streets they still hunted us. They'd broken into packs now, a few in vehicles, most on foot.

Joann bent over Billy Ray, who lay on his back with his head propped on the radio pack. The unit miraculously still worked. Jay Ackroyd sat with his head between his knees and just breathed. He had thrown away his kaffiyeh . His hair was in serious disarray.

"Stud Six, I'm afraid the word is negative, over."

"Negative on what? Fire support or pickup? Over."

A pause. Atmospherics crackled. I wanted to squeeze an answer from the microphone with my fingers.

"Stud Six, that's negative on both." Archangel One had the decency to be weeping openly. "We got the word. We're pulling out; Angels One and Three are already gone. It's over, man. Over."

I didn't think he was handing the conversational ball back to me. Nonetheless I grabbed it: "On whose orders?"

"This came all the way from the top." And in the sudden thunderous silence I barely heard him say, "Good luck, Stud Six. Archangel One — out."

"They're leaving us," Ackroyd panted. "The fuckers are pulling out and leaving us."

"That about sums it up," I said, throwing down the mike. No point in handling it gently any more.

He raised his head and looked at me and gave me a shaky smile. "Well, I guess I drew the short straw, didn't I?"

"How do you mean?"

"I pop you all back to Desert One," he said. "Then I guess I get to go play Twenty Questions with the Revolutionary Guard."

"No."

He stared at me. "Hey, do you think I'm a fucking moron, you tin-plated hero?" he flared. "I can't pop myself. Or are you such a stupid fucking military jock you didn't realize that?"

"I realize it," I said. "But you aren't popping me anywhere."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about, I'm not leaving you behind. I've lost three people already. I'm not losing more without a fight."

"You left Damsel quick enough."

"She was gone , Jay." I was surprised how quiet my voice was. I just didn't have the energy to get emotional. "There was nothing we could do for her without getting the rest of us killed. It was a command decision. I made it. I have to live with it."

"I know all about that," Joann said. She had torn her chador into strips and bandaged Ray as best she could with it. Now she moistened a fragment from a canteen and dripped water between the boy's bloody lips. He was breathing with a sound like the A train. I didn't think it was too good a sign.

"How did you do that back there, by the way?" I asked.

"All that energy I store up," she said, color draining from that handsome face, "it has to go somewhere ."

She shook her head. "I'm going to see them every time I shut my eyes the whole rest of my life," she said, "those faceless men — "

I squeezed her shoulder. "It goes away after a while," I said. "Or at least, you don't get the dreams so often." She looked up into my eyes.

"I know, child," I said quietly.

I turned away. "Where's Darius?" she asked suddenly. "I haven't seen him since, since — "

"Since they nailed Harvey, back at the apartment," Ackroyd said. "Motherfucker ditched us."

I nodded. "I never did like cops much," I said, "especially secret ones."

Ackroyd frowned. "You mean — he wasn't just a bodyguard, was he?"

"No."

"He was SAVAK. A torturer."

"One of the worst, I suspect."

"When did you know?"

"Not for sure till he told me, up on the roof. But I suspected it the minute I laid eyes on him."

"You son of a bitch," Jay said. "You'd jump in bed with the fucking Devil himself, wouldn't you?"

"If it helped me accomplish my mission." I held up a hand. "Save the denunciations, Ackroyd. It's time to use your magic finger. Billy first."

"Hey — " the kid said, trying to rise. He had come back around at some point. "You can't — get rid of me. I won't go — "

Joann pressed him down with her fingertips. "You have no choice, Billy," Ackroyd said.

I hunkered beside the boy. "If you live, son — and I'm afraid you will, as tough as you are — you're going to need an ace name."

"What's the matter with … Wolverine?"

"Your alma mater might sue. No, I have the name for you. I name thee Carnifex ."