Rob Thurman - Chimera

I ignored the incomprehensible words and, relaxing my grip as best I could, pushed him back into motion. Saul was already at the gate and opening it. Lukas and I rushed past to one of the vans Saul had described from the children’s “field trip.” Saul and I had thought about leaving a car down the road for our escape but dismissed the idea instantly. We’d never make it that far on foot without being caught. The best next thing we’d decided was to make use of the transportation available. Then we could drive to our getaway vehicles that would be less likely discovered farther from the compound.

Inside the van I went to work unscrewing the steering column. I’d not actually stolen too many cars. Considering how I’d grown up and my father’s position in the hierarchy, that wasn’t all that surprising. By the time I turned sixteen, I already had two cars waiting in the garage for me. The necessity had not been there, but you never knew when a little knowledge would get you out of a huge mess. So I kept my hand in because practice does make perfect. The proof of that came thirty seconds later when the van started. Over my shoulder Lukas was watching me work, still calm and still in a place I couldn’t understand or touch. “Did you lose your key?”

“Something like that,” I muttered. “Sit back, Lukas, and hang on.”

“Michael,” he said with the first hint of stubbornness I’d seen in him. He settled back into the seat behind mine. “My name is Michael.” As much as it hurt that he didn’t know himself, or me, I was paradoxically relieved to know he wasn’t an empty machine. He was human and he could be reached. Physically I had him; with time, I would get him back mentally as well—but first things first.

Peeling out, I sent gravel spraying as the van tore its way toward the gate. It was swinging slowly open as Saul pelted over to the passenger door and yanked it open. Half in and half out, he turned and emptied the rest of his clip into the three other vans and two cars still parked behind us. Tires burst like overripe melons as punctured gas tanks released streams of acrid gasoline onto the ground. “Flare,” he demanded.

With one hand on the wheel I used the other to pull a group of two flares from my belt and slapped them against his palm. The resulting inferno was more than big enough to roast a few marshmallows. The explosion and flesh-melting orange flames lit up the sky sunrise bright as we passed through the gate. “Boom.” Saul grinned at me as he slid into the seat and slammed the door. I couldn’t see his mouth through the mask, but I didn’t need to. It could be heard as easily as seen. I was on the verge of giving my own triumphant grin in return when there was another boom, this one from the back of the van. I turned to see that the doors had been yanked open. I also got a look at who’d opened them, whose feet had hit the van floor hard enough to imitate a silencer-muffled gunshot.

This man wasn’t wearing khakis. He wasn’t wearing anything but black, which blended so well into the darkness of his skin that he appeared nude. He hung in the open space, primeval and preternatural as a gargoyle rising from the sluggish waters of Genesis. Close-shaved hair was a pelt reflecting ambient light while the black eyes sucked it in. Tall and broad, he was a Greek statue carved in onyx . . . part myth, part monster. Muscles writhed as he stretched out a hand and spoke. And just like that he became a man. “Michael.” The baritone was deep enough to vibrate bone. “Take my hand, boy.”

The hand hung curved in a frozen position. Although it was the same color as the man’s skin, it looked somehow off nonetheless. But it was less important than what was in his other hand. It was a gun. At the moment he couldn’t use it because he was bracing himself with the fist curled around its grip. I didn’t plan on giving him time to steady himself enough to put that gun into play, not when I could beat him to it. “Lukas, stay put,” I rapped. It wasn’t necessary. As amiably cooperative as he was with my orders, he was less inclined to listen to this guy. He didn’t move as I stretched my arm back, steadying my elbow on his shoulder. It was a shoulder that had gone trembling and tense as iron. Before I could fire, the van chose that moment to remind me why “eyes on the road” had become the well-known adage it was.

Careening off the road, I cursed and turned my attention back to driving. The bullet that burned the skin of my jaw before shattering the windshield didn’t help matters. “Saul, get that son of a bitch!” In the rearview mirror I could see that he was all the way in the van now, half naked and as unconcerned as if he’d been wearing body armor. His gun was pointed at the back of my head as Lukas slid over to press up against the window. My brother didn’t seem to like this man any more than I did. “Saul . . .”

The prongs of the Taser imbedded themselves in the ebony chest before I had a chance to get another word out. As the current hit, the three hundred thousand volts dropped our unwanted visitor instantly. His gun discharged and blew a hole in the metal ceiling as he fell balanced precariously on the back edge. I took the van over one more hard bump and the man was gone, tumbling slack and limp out of the back. “Should’ve saved a bullet for that asshole,” Saul muttered. He dropped the Taser on the floor and clambered into the back to pull the doors shut. “Who’d he think he was? Superman? Jesus.” On the way back to the passenger side seat he paused to study Lukas. “You doing okay, kid?”

In my peripheral vision I saw the brown head tilt until it rested against the window glass as Lukas said bleakly, “I failed the test, didn’t I?”

I shook my head as Saul’s gaze slid my way. I had no idea and this wasn’t the time to delve into it. Shrugging philosophically, Skoczinsky patted the white-covered shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy. We’re here to help you.” Settling back into his seat and replacing the empty clip in his MP5, he murmured, “Too bad we couldn’t do the same for the others.”

“We didn’t have a choice.” It was true, but it tasted bitter coming out of my mouth. It was a surgical strike, in and out, and the only chance we’d had. Trying to shepherd a group of children out would’ve taken more than twice the time and double the firefight. That was assuming the kids all cooperated, and one little girl came instantly to mind to refute that theory. My hand still vaguely ached as I did my best not to think about the weirdness of that. If we’d stayed any longer, we would’ve faced at least triple the force and against that all our fun little toys might not have meant squat. “Make the call.”

After fastening his seat belt, Saul used a cell phone, disposable, paid for with cash, and untraceable to us, to call 911. Reporting a fire in a building full of children, he gave the address and then tossed the phone out of the open window. It was the quickest way to get a whole lot of people to the compound and fast, but I still had my doubts there would be a child left there to find. It would be fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, before the fire trucks would arrive this far out—not long, but I had the dark feeling it would be long enough for the people running that place.

“No one’s behind us yet, but it won’t be long.” Saul twisted his neck to watch out the back window. “Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?”

“Maybe if we lightened the load by dumping your bony ass.” Pessimistically, I put more pressure on the gas pedal and was rewarded by a slight surge of the engine and rattle of the van body. With one hand on the steering wheel, I used the other to skim off my mask. “Burn that, would you? It has a nice helping of my DNA on it.” I touched a finger to the still-wet blood on my jaw. Luckily it was the side of my face that was already scarred. Not much more damage could be done there. “Chances are they’ll guess who I am soon enough, but better safe than sorry.” If they were the ones who had originally taken Lukas, they were bound to know something of his family. And who else besides his family would come looking for him?