Neal Barrett Jr. - The Prophecy Machine

Still, Finn was greatly concerned. Numbers counted, and even an army of the totally inept would overcome a pair of skilled swordsmen in the end.

“I don't like the look of this,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, “We are severely outnumbered, Finn.”

“And how would you know, hiding behind my back? The view can't be very good from there.”

“I have ears of a sort, as you're aware. Those creatures make a great deal of noise. Finn …”

“What?”

“I don't think we're going to get out of this.”

“That's your opinion, is it?”

“It is, yes.”

“Then I'll ask you to keep it to yourself.”

“You don't have to snap at me, I'm only trying to help. If I were you, I would seriously consider the-”

Julia's words were lost as Finn, with a frightening shout, charged up the alleyway to meet his foes head on.

The ragged fellows looked puzzled, bewildered, somewhat dismayed. They weren't prepared for such outlandish behavior, never having encountered it before. People you were after ran away , they didn't come at you.

Finn slashed with a will, cutting them down, driving them back. They shrieked, fell, clutched at their wounds, doubled up and died.

Still, it was clear that a greater force than pain, a stronger drive than fear, drove these creatures on. Though Finn had never fought in the great eternal War, he had stood his ground in more than one encounter before. He knew that look, that fierce unthinking will of the zealot, the man who gives his life because some greater fool has told him his cause is right, and all others are wrong.

“Damn you all,” Finn yelled, his arm so heavy he could scarcely lift his weapon, barely fend off a man who came at him with a stick. “Take your stupid hats and die somewhere else, just keep away from me!”

If anything, Finn's words seemed to stir his enemies to greater fury than before. They jabbered, chattered and boiled, frothed at the mouth, struck out at Finn. Poked one another, dropped to the ground, got up and came at him again.

Like stirring a nest of ants , Finn muttered to himself, buggers got about as much sense, you ask me …

The yellowheads shouted, yelled, clawed and kicked and scratched, kicked one another to get at their foe …

And, in that instant, Finn felt an awful chill, saw, like a dream yet to be, how it would happen, exactly how he'd fall, how deep the wound would be … he heard Letitia cry, far, far away …

“Back, back !” he yelled, his mouth dry as sand, the words grating in his throat. “Get them out, Sabatino, get them out of here now!”

He slashed out blindly, knowing it was useless, the final act upon him, over and done.

Bitters and Blood, I don't even have the last lines, they belong to some fool in a pointy yellow hat …

They knew it, felt it, smelled the sweet scent of death. Their voices rose in an awful manic din, in a cry, in a moan, in a wail that chilled him to the bone …

Finn backed up and stumbled, caught himself, lashed out again. Risked a final glance at Letitia, couldn't see her anywhere. The horde came at him in a blind and thoughtless fury, jabbing one another with their sticks, crushing one another against the alley walls.

Finn winced as a pole struck the side of his head. Saw double for an instant, shook the fellow off. Kicked out and caught one in the gut. A gaunt, one-eyed bruiser got through, poked him in the chest. He gasped, jerked the point out. The man grabbed him like a spider and brought him to the ground. Another piled on, then another after that.

“Damn your rotten breath,” Finn growled between his teeth, “What do you bastards here eat, garbage, offal, slops in the street, maggoty meat?”

He went under then, fighting and cursing, striking out with his fists, his sword no longer in his hand. He was finished, there was no use fighting anymore, but giving up never crossed his mind. He tore at the pile of smelly flesh, fought with every ragged breath, jammed a broken fist into someone's vital part, kicked at a head, elbowed a crotch.

He wondered what would happen to Letitia, wondered what they'd do when they got her, didn't care to think about that. Wondered, for an instant, why that pompous lout, Sabatino, didn't come and help. Knew, at once, that the highborn brute had left him there to fight, left the simple-minded craftsman to hold off the louts while he got his precious self away …

“Goodbye, Letitia,” he heard himself whisper far away, “Goodbye, Julia Jessica Slagg. If you can hear me now, know that I'm sorry I made you, for this is not a world fit for human, Newlie or even a loud-mouth lizard made of copper, spit and tin … I could have done better if I'd used better wiring, purified mercury, and gold in your head …”

“Will you stop your jabbering, Finn!”

The crackly voice came from somewhere in the small of his back, or farther down than that. “Get off of me, you overweight lump, I'm dying down here!”

“Same … up here,” Finn said, and everything, as the storytellers say, went suddenly black …

…and, just as quickly, everything went absolutely white-star-hot, eyeball-searing bright.

Finn sat up, blinked, grabbed for his fallen blade. He hurt too much, there was too much clatter pounding in his head to pass out. Howls, yowls, shrieks from all about. Yellow rowdies punched, yellow devils kicked, fought one another to escape the awful horror snapping at their heels, clawing at their backs.

Hurt toughies, dead toughies, utterly mad barbarians and fiends blocked the narrow way out. Fellows yet alive, true to their credo, stumbled about, hitting one another, going this way and that, like ale-besotted louts.

The monster, the beast, the copper-scaled creature loose among them, tore through bone and flesh like a razor gone berserk. The floor of the alley, every brick, every crack, every inch of the grime-encrusted walls turned a bloody crimson from the dying, from the dead. There were splatters and splotches, patches and drips, syrupy clots. And through it all, the rattle and the clatter and the snap, the snick and the click of sharp teeth and the rip of iron claws …

“Get up man, not a moment to waste, we simply cannot hang around here!”

Finn found himself hauled off the ground and on his feet again, Sabatino's strong grip urging him down the cobbled street. Through sheer brute force, Sabatino had managed to kick a ragged hole in the fence that blocked the end of the alleyway. He squeezed his broader father through, and stood guard while Letitia and Finn came in behind.

“Oh, love, I thought you were stricken, I thought you were dead, I truly did, dear Finn!”

Letitia's face was drained of all color, her eyes full of dread.

“I'm not,” Finn said, “though I fear I came terribly close. Where's Julia Jessica Slagg? Is she harmed?”

“If you mean that fearsome device of yours,” Sabatino said, “she, it, or whatever in fiery hell it is, is fine. Nothing else is back there, everything is meat. ”

Sabatino's eyes seemed to bore through the back of Finn's head. “You and I, sir, are going to have a long talk about this marvelous, mechanical killer of yours when we're safely out of here, you can count on that.”

“No we're not,” said Julia, scooting through Sabatino's legs, rattling on ahead, leaving bloody tracks. “We're not going to talk about me at all.”

“Damn my eyes!” Sabatino swept off his hat and stared in wonder. “The thing speaks, it talks as well as you and I!”

“It talks entirely too much,” Finn said, sending a withering look the lizard's way, “and, as ever, at all the wrong times. I suggest you get cleaned up, Julia. Moisture of any sort is not good for your parts.”