Banshee Screams Page 26

  Eventually, he said, "You don't know what it's like. I killed him."

  Clenching her teeth against the onrush of her own guilt, Debbi answered quietly. "I do know. Believe me, I do know." She gave the night sky a brief scan and saw all the little winged shapes darting across the faces of the moons. "Haven't you ever wondered how I came to Temptation?"

  Stew's eyes drew down to center on her.

  She continued, "I was running. The space station where I was posted, the Cabal, was attacked. I tried to get everyone off before it broke apart. That included my mother. She got herself stationed there so she could be closer to her little girl. She was funny like that." Debbi's eyes watered at the memory. Her jaw muscles tightened in an effort to regain her control. Anger did the trick. "My mother ran back to help someone else. The station began to roll and people panicked. They grabbed me and blasted the escape pod off. I left my mother behind to die. I couldn't stop it." She met Stew's gaze. "I wonder every day if she's forgiven me."

  He had heard vague stories of Debbi's previous assignment. It was sketchy at best and rumors abounded. No one knew about her mother. Obviously, it was something she kept very close. He was honored that she shared it with him.

  "It wasn't your fault," Stew said gently.

  Debbi gave a ragged little sigh and lied. "I know that now. But for months, I wallowed in guilt. Everything suffered, my job, my life. I had to get past it, and I did. Otherwise, there would have been nothing left.

  "The same goes for you. You did what you had to do to protect this town. Those things in the cemetery weren't people. They were shells, mindless and abhorrent. That wasn't your father; he's somewhere else now. Trust me on this."

  Debbi could see she was getting through. The man's pale, blue eyes were damp and cast heavenward. His throat bobbed reflexively as he swallowed back the pain and the guilt that had engulfed him.

  "But I almost killed you too. All because."

  Debbi stopped him. "Stew, we all have our bad days. Lord knows we're having all ours in a rush lately. How do you think Ross ended up in the infirmary? My shot pushed him over a cliff."

  "What?"

  "I shot the monster that collided with Ross that shoved them both off the cliff that Jack built." She chuckled. "I'm sort of hoping that he doesn't remember any of that."

  Stew's eyes widened and then he too smiled, genuinely smiled. That pure white, amazing smile that made many female hearts flutter. Debbi had worried she'd never see it again.

  With a sigh, Debbi steered down her street. "It could have gone very badly, but hey, it all worked out in the end. Sound familiar?"

  Her confidence in him astounded Stew. Of course, he knew he still had a long way to go. He could still feel the shame bubbling just below the surface.

  Debbi bobbed her head. "Here's Miss Etta's."

  The boarding house stood quiet and serene. In the months that Debbi had lived in Temptation, Stew had never visited her at home. He knew where she lived, of course, but most of their business was conducted either in headquarters or at Mo's. The brimming flower boxes, the white porch swing; this was a side of Debbi few people had seen.

  Debbi indicated with a gesture that Stew should hold up the lantern under the eaves of the porch. To the relief of both Rangers, no creatures dangled there. Debbi stepped up onto the porch, her eyes keen for anything small and black. She paused.

  "Oh, by the way, Miss Etta has a cat. It's sort of black and orange. Mostly black. Try not to confuse it with one of the batrat things and shoot it. Miss Etta is real fond of him." She shrugged. "So am I."

  Stew hated to tell her, but if there was any doubt at all as to whether he was seeing a cat or a batrat thing coming at him, it was going down regardless. She could always get another cat.

  Debbi hefted her shotgun and slowly opened the front door. The house was dark. She aimed upward, the flashlight on the barrel illuminating the ceiling. It was clean. The two Rangers slipped in quickly and shut the door.

  Stew released the breath he had been holding while Debbi called out.

  "Miss Etta! It's Debbi!"

  Stew noticed something in the sitting room and pointed it out. It was blast damage. A lavender paisley vase and the picture of Etta's great grandfather both lay shattered on the floor.

  "Miss Etta!" Debbi's heart seized with dread and she stepped forward quickly.

  Stew grabbed her shoulder in a vice grip. "Slow and easy."

  Nodding curtly, Debbi inched forward, shifting her weapon constantly from one dark shadow to another.

  The first door down the hall was ajar. She could see blood splattered on a green rug inside. Her mind rapidly attempted to recall the occupant. Mrs. Wilshire, she believed. The woman was a good friend of Etta's.

  Debbi hugged the wall and then slipped around the doorjamb. Her beam cast an erratic light inside, sweeping first the ceiling and then the rest of the room. The second sweep revealed the decimated bodies of three batrats. The room was a mess. Whatever had happened here, it was over.

  She eased out of the room and closed the door. They continued down the hall. The next door was closed. It was Mr. Pullido's room. Debbi knocked loudly. No one answered. She crouched down, put her ear to the door, and laid her gun on the floor so that it cast its light inside the room. A telltale flutter of wings and hissing gave her an answer. The room was definitely occupied. Peering under the door, she could just make out a pale shape on the floor, lying flat as a puddle. Grimacing, she stood up and pulled a thick marker from her jacket. She marked a red "X" on the door, indicating it needed an extermination squad.

  Suddenly the quiet of the house was shattered by gunfire. Debbi and Stew moved down the hall. All the while, she kept watch above them. She kept the pace slow despite her desperate need to run.

  "Miss Etta!"

  Finally, an answering call. "Down here!" More gunfire.

  Debbi and Stew ran the last few feet to the kitchen door and flung it open. Inside it was chaos. There were three bat-creatures. One was swooping down on Mrs. Wilshire who was jammed against the wall near Debbi.

  Etta's shotgun followed the creature's dive. Debbi grabbed Mrs. Wilshire and pulled her down to the floor. Stew was behind her and hopefully out of range.

  The shotgun blast chewed out a chunk of the wall. Debbi felt splinters. She rolled off Mrs. Wilshire and came up with her own gun primed. Stew shouted as a batrat flew past him and down the hall. He took a shot at it with his pistol but missed.

  Debbi could see two more. One's wild erratic flight made it difficult to draw a bead in the close quarters of the kitchen. Another was on top of a screaming lodger in the far corner. Debbi didn't know his name. The batrat's teeth sunk deep into his chest and he swatted at it in futile terror. Debbi clambered to her feet and ran over, even though she knew that most likely he was already a dead man. She struck the batrat with the barrel of her shotgun.

  The creature released its teeth from the man and turned toward her. She used the momentary distraction to wallop it. Its claws ripped the man's shirt as it slammed against the wall and fell stunned. Debbi shot it. The man rose unsteadily and charged out of the kitchen screaming like a madman.

  Something struck Debbi in the back of the head and she stumbled forward. She immediately knew what it was and swiped frantically at it. She didn't feel anything.

  "Above you!" Stew shouted. "Get down!"

  Debbi dropped and heard the loud crack of Stew's weapon. Then falling plaster hit her shoulder, followed by a heavy wet form. Debbi scrambled away and kicked at the dead thing beside her. It slid up against the icebox with a thud.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more things darting in the shadows overhead. Where the hell were they coming from? Debbi shot one out of the air and Miss Etta blasted one too.

  Three more leaped into the fray.

  "The hole!" Etta shouted, pointing at a small crack in the plaster above the icebox.

  Debbi bound to her feet. Flinging her shotgun over her shoulder by its stra
p, she ran for the corner where the icebox sat. She grabbed a coffee container and leaped onto the counter next to the icebox. One of the creatures was wriggling through the hole in the wall, red eyes blazing and yellow teeth dripping. Small, clawed hands scrabbled at the plaster as it fought to enter.

  Debbi pulled her knife and rammed it home into the head of the batrat. It wiggled for a moment and then went still. Pulling out the knife, she shoved the can into the hole, pushing the dead thing back it with it. She could feel the resistance as more batrats tried to get in from outside. Using the hilt of the knife, she pounded the can in tight.

  Something crawled into her peripheral vision and she fell back just as a batrat lunged at her. Pain lanced through her spine as she landed badly on the countertop amid clattering pots and pans. She rolled off with a crash as the air around her was peppered with gunfire. She covered her head.

  A hand reached down and helped her up. Debbi found herself staring into the crinkled face of Miss Etta. The elderly woman held a smoking shotgun.

  "Well done, dear," Miss Etta said as if she were congratulating her on a piano recital. "Now stand up. There're more of them."

  Debbi struggled up and watched in amazement as the old woman whipped her gun around and blasted another batrat out of the air. It splattered against the gold wallpaper, smearing crimson across it like an inkblot design. Etta cursed, obviously annoyed at what was happening to her beloved home.

  Debbi's bemused expression disappeared as a huge batrat crashed into Etta and slammed her into the wall.

  "No!" Debbi rushed forward. Etta's hands were locked around the creature's throat, keeping it away from her exposed flesh. Its angry shriek rent the air and clawed wings beat harshly against Etta's weakening arms.

  Debbi's shotgun was gone as was her knife, lost in the fall from the icebox. She did the only thing she could. She grabbed the creature with bare hands and pulled it back. One wing slammed into Etta's head and dazed her enough so that her grip failed. Debbi fell back with the creature in hand. It went berserk.

  A clawed wing grabbed her and it pulled itself around to face her, teeth snapping. Only Debbi's sheer will and tenacity kept it at bay. The thing's bizarre tongue thrust forward, snapping mere millimeters from her face. She could see the vicious barb on the end of it. She was suddenly grateful for her long arms.

  "Stew!" she cried out.

  "Here!" He stepped back into the kitchen, his face shifting swiftly to horror. He raised the pistol, but the edges of his vision started to blur and cave in. He barely heard Debbi's terrified shout.

  "Take the shot! I can't hold it!"

  Fear bubbled up into his throat, choking him. She was too close to the creature. Its clawed hands raked Debbi's forearms drawing a scream and blood from her. The shame crept its way inside him again, and for the first time, he became angry at it.

  His hand steadied and his vision cleared. He squeezed the trigger and the bullet left the muzzle in a ring of gun smoke.

  Debbi's sleeve fluttered as the shell plucked at it in its path to strike the creature. The batrat was wrenched from her hands and thrust against the wall in a wet smear.

  She slumped back and watched morbidly as the thing slid slowly down the wallpaper. Sucking in a deep lungfuls of air, she lay on the floor, her limbs sapped of strength. She met Stew's eyes. He stood, his pistol slowly lowering, amazed at what he had just done. There was something present in his blue orbs. Debbi knew it well: relief at the first small victory on a long road back, all the previous failures fading, and the shroud of shame lifting.

  "Good shooting," she said softly, managing the barest of exhausted smiles. He smiled back.

  She caught a small movement to her left, eye level. Another black furred body loomed in her view with a hiss, but she couldn't move. She was utterly drained.

  Then she glimpsed green slanted eyes.

  "Damn you, McDuff," she whispered and burst into a frantic laugh at the cat crouching pitifully under a chair.

  She reached out and grabbed the cat before he ran out and someone shot him for being small and furry. Stew helped her to her feet. He tried to steer her toward a chair. Instead, he found himself holding an irate cat while Debbi scrambled over to Etta who was sitting up and rubbing her head.

  "Thank God, dawn is breaking," Stew announced, pulling back a curtain from the window.

  There was a general sense of relief for most everyone present, but Debbi knew it was only temporary. Even the sun's rays couldn't penetrate the dark pall that had enveloped Temptation.

  Doc Dazy sat staring at an old book. He was so exhausted he barely had the strength to turn the pages. His eyes drooped and his head bobbed toward the desk.

  "Doc!" Debbi called.

  He popped up. "Unpronounceable!"

  "What?"

  "Those things." He stifled a yawn and jabbed a finger onto the page. "Their anouk names are unpronounceable according to Henshaw's Banshee Naturalist." He turned the book on the desk so Debbi could see it.

  The page had a sketch of an animal that resembled a batrat and a brief paragraph of text.

  "Is this all that's known?" Debbi asked.

  "All I've found so far. And frankly, Henshaws not reliable. But the basics are probably correct. They live in the Toxic Jungle. They're nocturnal. They hunt by swarming."

  "What are they doing here? Have they ever been here before?"

  "I've never seen one."

  Debbi sat down opposite the Doctor. He was close to collapse. He had been working with the multitude of wounded for hours with little success. He wore a bloody surgical gown and still had a stained latex glove on his left hand. The novelty of the medical aberrations he had seen over the last few weeks was beginning to wear very thin. He had lost his gleeful morbidity.

  Debbi asked, "How many casualties do we have?"

  "So far I've seen one hundred and fifty-six dead. And about two hundred, two hundred and fifty injured. And we can assume there are more out there, lying in their homes or in the streets undiscovered. The bodies have slowed down since sunrise, but the injured have started coming in on their own. They were afraid to go out last night. And then there's always tonight, when they start swarming again."

  "We're trying to do something about keeping casualties down tonight. So, what's the story with these things?"

  Doc Dazy said, "Well, you've seen most of it. Their tongues have a very sharp barb on the end that they use to drill through flesh down to the bone. Then they apparently inject a substance that dissolves bone in a matter of seconds. The good news." He laughed. "The good news is that it doesn't appear to be systemic."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It doesn't spread throughout the body. Meaning, for instance, Boston Fitzpatrick was hit down near the wrist. And he lost both long bones in his forearm and most of his wrist bones. Although, oddly enough, most of the bones in his hand and fingers are intact, although obviously useless."

  Debbi sat back, feeling queasy at the memory of the big Ranger's arm flopping like a strip of meat hitting a butcher's block.

  The Doctor continued, "But the damage didn't spread to his upper arm. Of course, to be sure, I amputated above the elbow. But subsequent patients bear that out. You will lose total bone mass in the contiguous area of injection, but it doesn't seem to spread beyond that bone or, at least, its immediate neighbors. Now, if they hit you in the head or get a couple of ribs or vertebrae, well." He trailed off.

  "What about Patrick Ngoma?" Debbi asked.

  "He's fine. Well, relatively fine. The creature that hit him apparently didn't strike bone. The acid dissipates in muscle tissue, although Mr. Ngoma assures me that it hurts."

  Debbi felt relieved.

  Doc Dazy forced himself to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the ward."

  "I'll send Hiro Tsukino to help you out. He's a first-class field medic."

  "Only if you can spare him. I've got a few people lending a hand. Some of them have some nursing experience, or even
veterinary experience will do. There's not much fancy doctoring to do in there. Mainly administering medication for pain, sawing off limbs, and pulling sheets up over people's faces." He stepped toward the door and muttered, "What did we do to deserve this?"

  After he left, Debbi glanced at the book. The door to the office opened and Olivares entered followed by a technician.

  "Heard you were here," Olivares said.

  Debbi saw the dour face of the technician and took a deep breath. "How bad is it?"

  "Bad," Olivares said. He cocked his head at the tech. "You better tell her. I'm not well-versed in mechanical engineering."

  "Single syllables," she ordered. Her head was pounding.

  The tech squirmed, wishing there was some way he could have pulled off a miracle and impressed the Rangers, but there wasn't. It was a disaster.

  He said, "Those things blew the main transformer. It's fried. No hope of repair. We don't have the spare parts on hand."

  Debbi cursed.

  "Wait," Olivares said blandly. "It gets better."

  The tech said, "The generator went too. Explosion cracked it all to hell. And the nearest place that could machine out new parts is Ghost Rock City."

  Debbi cursed again. So now there was no way in hell of getting the lights back up before tonight. She let her head fall into her hands, forcing her tired brain to think.

  "How many portable generators do we have?" she asked.

  "About thirty. All over town."

  "Okay, we'll set up some safe houses. Get people in a couple of centralized locations so we can guard them better. Olivares, I need you on that." She lifted her head and regarded the technician. "Do what you can. Pillage from homes, ships, I don't care. MacGyver something."

  "It won't be easy," he responded. "We weren't left with much after EXFOR bugged out. Anyone with that kind of equipment is gonna guard it jealously. Particularly now. It'll cost a lot to get them to part with it."

  "Then commandeer the stuff!" she snapped. "We've got profiteering laws in this town. And if we don't...we should! Just do what you need to do. I'll take it from there."

  The tech nodded. "Sure."

  Debbi stood up and said to Olivares, "C'mon, you want to see Ross?"