Psychological Damage (Gray Spear Society) Page 26

  The enemy must still be in the building, Norbert thought. So close.

  He crept across debris on his hands and knees. Carefully, he raised his head and peered through one of the many new holes in the wall. He looked into the shoe store beyond. The Brotherhood's bullets had shattered all the glass and had broken furniture. Shelves full of shoes had fallen over. The entire store was a disaster. Yet, Norbert saw no bodies, not even a drop of blood.

  Edward had called Aaron a tactical genius. Norbert now appreciated the truth of that statement. In the space of a couple of minutes, Aaron had managed to turn the momentum of the battle completely around.

  Norbert spotted another hole in the far wall of the shoe store.

  "Damn it all!" he said. "They went through to the dry cleaning shop! We were shooting at air. Squads one and five, go outside. Break through the front door on my command. The rest of us will move through the interior and meet you there. We'll hit the enemy from two directions at once. They won't get escape this time. There is nowhere else for them to go."

  Ten monks ran out of the building.

  Meanwhile, Norbert studied the shoe store for signs of danger. He saw no movement and heard nothing. Slowly, he poked his head through the hole in the wall separating the shoe store from the chapel. Nobody shot him.

  "It looks safe," he told his men. "Go through."

  The monks streamed forward single file, and Norbert brought up the rear. A brief search of the shoe store confirmed the enemy wasn't present. He gathered the men around the next hole leading to the dry cleaning shop.

  He grabbed his radio. "Squads one and five, are you in position?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Go now!"

  Norbert heard glass breaking. He waved for the rest of the monks to attack, and they began to pour into the dry cleaning shop. He expected a few might get killed during the initial rush, but if they kept coming, they could overwhelm any opposition. Courage would win this fight. Norbert joined the flow of men with his gun in hand.

  He entered the dry cleaning shop and immediately looked around. Clothes in plastic bags hung from long, motorized racks. The lights were off, and there were black shadows everywhere. He expected gunfire, but instead he heard only the rapid footsteps of his men.

  "The enemy must be here," Norbert said. "Search everywhere! Kill the Child!"

  * * *

  Aaron dropped down silently onto the floor of the shoe store. He had been clinging to the steel beams supporting the roof. If any of the Brotherhood had pointed a flashlight straight up, they might've seen him hiding between the dusty pipes and ducts. However, most people never looked up. It took special training to break that bad habit.

  Yvonne landed beside him with the grace of a cat. They watched the last of the Brotherhood monks enter the dry cleaning shop.

  She pointed into her mouth, the universal sign for hunger. Then she raised two fingers. He nodded.

  He went behind the cash register and found the duffle bag he had hidden there. He dug out a handful of smoke grenades and flash bangs. He wanted fragmentation grenades, but unfortunately there were none in the bag. He didn't have time to assemble one from scavenged parts.

  He threw the pyrotechnics into the dry cleaning shop. The flash bangs made a satisfying thud, and the light was bright even through the hole in the wall. The smoke grenades hissed. Within seconds they filled the small shop with choking, blinding smoke.

  Aaron took a deep breath, held it, and ran through the hole. He grabbed the first man he found. Working mostly by feel, Aaron tore the rifle out of the monk's hands and shoved him back into the shoe store. Aaron took one more monk for Yvonne before his breath started to run out. He went back to her.

  Both monks were lying on the floor with their eyes open. They shuddered and tried to scream, but no sound came out. Yvonne had her hands wrapped around their throats. Aaron watched her muscles swell as she extracted nutrients from her victims. Her skin turned bubblegum pink and her veins popped out. Her hair and fingernails grew longer in just seconds. When her victims finally died, the stench of rotting fish flooded the room.

  Aaron winced and stepped away.

  Yvonne stood up.

  "Full strength, yet?" he whispered.

  "Almost," she whispered. "I could eat one more."

  He couldn't imagine that. She was already so freakishly swollen she looked like she might burst. Her shoulders were the size and shape of melons. The seams on her pants had split open.

  "How strong are you?"

  "Strong enough to destroy the Brotherhood by myself."

  Aaron shook his head. "Stick with the plan. We have to draw them away from Wesley first. Once he is safe, you can have fun. Let's go."

  He picked up the duffle bag and went back to the chapel. He grabbed more weapons from the blue van as long as he was passing through. They went out the front of the building to where a white delivery truck was parked. He was planning to hotwire it, but he found the keys still in the ignition.

  "Nice of them to provide transportation," he said.

  "Yes," Yvonne said. "Very considerate."

  He climbed into the driver's seat, and she sat beside him. She smelled like fresh honey now. He started the engine and drove.

  * * *

  Norbert stumbled around like a blind drunk. Smoke made his throat and lungs burn. He still had purple spots in his vision and his ears rang from the flash bangs. He kept falling into racks of clothes or his own men. He had no idea which way was out. Finally, there was a nauseating odor that reminded him of rotting fish.

  The only good news was he didn't hear gunfire. The enemy hadn't used the smoke and flash bangs as a precursor to a real attack. The lack of fighting made Norbert nervous though. Aaron wouldn't pass up a good opportunity unless an even better one was just down the road.

  Norbert heard a truck engine.

  "Sir!" his radio blared. "The truck is leaving!"

  Norbert grabbed his radio. "Our truck?" His voice was rough from the smoke.

  "Yes, sir!"

  He instantly knew what had happened. Somehow the enemy had got behind him and was escaping in the Brotherhood's own vehicle!

  "Shoot them!" Norbert ordered.

  "They're headed east, sir, away from us. They escaped before we had a clear shot."

  He had placed sniper teams on the north, south, and west sides of the building. The rest of his men had attacked from the east. He now realized he should've left a rear guard behind. By committing all his forces to the assault, he had created a gap in the perimeter, which Aaron had obviously anticipated. Aaron knows my mistakes before I make them, Norbert thought.

  He spoke into the radio. "Sniper teams, move to the barricades. Make sure that truck doesn't get past you. Quickly!" He raised his voice and spoke to the men in the dry cleaning shop. "Monks, form squads outside! The enemy isn't in here."

  The smoke had finally cleared enough to let Norbert see the exit. He and the rest of his men filed out of the shop. The fresh, cool air outside came as a great relief.

  The monks formed lines, giving Norbert a chance to count them. He was down to twenty-four men, a number that puzzled him. Thirty had entered the chapel, and he was pretty sure only four had died there. When did I lose two more?

  "The enemy went east," he said loudly. "Fan out and search for them. I want four squads of six men. As long as we protect each other, we'll be OK." The last sentence sounded hollow to Norbert but he said it with confidence. His men didn't need to share his growing anxieties.

  The line of monks broke into four segments and spread out. Norbert stayed behind. He needed a few minutes to think. The perfect trap was turning into the perfect disaster.

  * * *

  For Marina, the situation was so bizarre she wondered if she were dreaming. She was in a dark closet with Dmitry and Wesley. There was so little space their bodies were pushed together. She was touching the uncle that had sexually and physically abused her to the point of madness. Her hatred was intense enough to
make her feel ill.

  She was armed with plenty of sharp knives. Ending his life would take just a quick thrust. If she wanted to be cruel, she could slice open his belly and let him bleed to death. It wouldn't be the first time the blood of her enemy had soaked her socks.

  Yet, she did nothing, which was the strangest part of all. She had sworn she would maintain control, but at this point she had far exceeded even her own expectations. She hadn't known she possessed such mental strength.

  She had to give credit to Dmitry for choosing a good hiding place at least. The closet was actually a niche of unused space left over after the installation of a water heater. Instead of a proper door, there was just a plywood panel hung on concealed hinges. To the casual eye it looked like part of the wall. The Brotherhood had walked right past.

  However, Marina hadn't heard any noise in a few minutes. Apparently, the battle had moved to another location. I hope Aaron is OK, she thought.

  Marina was very glad Yvonne was with Aaron. At full strength she was an unstoppable destructive force. Marina had witnessed a few of Yvonne's gruesome exploits in the old days. She usually didn't bother with guns or knives. She preferred to rip apart her enemies with her bare hands. Marina had once seen her punch a man so hard her fist went through his skull.

  "What's your name, boy?" Dmitry whispered.

  "Wesley." His voice was so quiet Marina could barely hear him.

  She bent her head to listen. She was curious to see how Wesley handled Dmitry.

  "Don't worry," Dmitry said. "We'll be OK."

  "I know," Wesley replied.

  "What is all this about?"

  "It's about me. The Brotherhood wants to kill me."

  "That can't be true," Dmitry said. "You seem like a nice kid. Why would they want to hurt you?"

  "I force the truth to come out."

  "I don't understand."

  Wesley took a moment before answering. "Right now you're thinking about the time you were in the basement with Marina. You remember how she looked when you tied her up. The noises she made. The fear in her eyes. Her smooth, soft skin. You're old, but you would do it again if you could."

  Marina clenched her fists so hard her sharp fingernails cut her palms. No, she told herself. Killing Dmitry would be letting him win.

  "I'm a better man now," Dmitry said. "Jesus loves me."

  "You want to feel guilty," Wesley said. "You should feel guilty. But being so close to her excites you instead. I smell the hormones in your sweat. You're still the same man as before."

  "No."

  "And you don't really want forgiveness. You're just afraid of Hell. You're hoping a few good deeds will buy you a ticket into Heaven."

  Dmitry went silent.

  "Speaking of truth," Marina said, "I almost forgot to ask something. Who killed my parents? It wasn't the mafia."

  He inhaled sharply. "I did it."

  "Why?"

  "Your parents noticed I was looking at you the wrong way. That day in the shop they told me to move out. I could never see you again. I was so angry I grabbed the gun behind the counter and shot them both."

  Deep down Marina had suspected as much. However, hearing the words made the blood pound in her temples. All the old anger came rushing back at once. She fought for control, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.

  "Wesley," she said in a strained voice.

  "Be still." He squeezed her hand. "You're doing a great job. It's almost over."

  His touch gave her just enough strength to keep her from gutting Dmitry. Slowly, the rage subsided. She was a new woman now. She could defeat any enemy, even if that enemy was inside her own head. She had finally won a battle that had lasted seventeen years.

  "Do you still want redemption?" Wesley said.

  "Yes," Dmitry said, "more than anything."

  "Go fight the Brotherhood for us."

  Dmitry took a deep breath. He pushed open the plywood panel and slipped out of the closet. He carefully closed the panel behind himself.

  When he was gone, Marina said, "He can't fight. He doesn't have the training. He'll die."

  "Yes," Wesley replied calmly. "That's what I'm expecting."

  "Will he find redemption?"

  "Never. He was just a bug that needed to be squashed. Forget about him." He turned and hugged her tightly. "I'm proud of you."

  "Why?" She stroked his silky hair.

  "You didn't kill."

  She wiped her eyes. "I almost did."

  "But you didn't," he said. "You have the strength to do anything now. I'm really glad you're my friend. I wish you had met my parents. They would've liked you."

  She grinned and patted his back. She felt like she had just aced the hardest test of her life. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.

  "What's next?" She sniffed.

  "I came here to help two people. You were the first, and you're done. You don't need me anymore."

  "Who is the second?"

  "I don't know," he said, "but we'll meet him soon."

  * * *

  Aaron sighted down the barrel of his pistol. He held a Smith & Wesson Model 39 with a custom suppressor. It was a beautiful, classic gun with excellent accuracy. He would've preferred a sniper rifle, but under the circumstances he couldn't complain.

  Six men were walking up a narrow alley, carrying AK-47's with obvious unease. They couldn't see Aaron because he was in a tree. New buds on the branches provided just enough cover to hide him. He aimed carefully.

  Being a great marksman wasn't just a matter of accuracy. Shot selection was even more important. Every bullet had to be a cobblestone on a path that led straight to victory. A great marksman could visualize the entire engagement before the first trigger was pulled, and then execute perfectly.

  Aaron waited until a dumpster forced the men to bunch together. They were about twenty-five yards away, an easy distance for him. He placed one bullet in the forehead of the man farthest back. When the body hit the ground, his five friends turned to look. Aaron shot all five in the head in rapid succession, going from left to right. They never even saw where the bullets were coming from. He emptied his magazine by finishing off the ones who were still twitching.

  Yvonne was sitting on a branch next to him. "Nicely done," she said, "but I get the next bunch."

  "Sure," Aaron replied. "There will be plenty for both of us tonight."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brother Norbert sniffed the air. He kept smelling rotting fish.

  Following the odor, he went back into the dry cleaning shop. The smoke had cleared, allowing him to see the mess his men had made. Clothes had fallen on the floor and had been trampled. Stray bullets had cut holes in the walls. Still, the shoe store and the chapel had fared much worse.

  The growing stench drew him to the hole leading to the shoe store. When he ducked through the hole, he found the source.

  Lord Almighty, he thought, what happened here?

  Two of his monks were lying on the floor in a condition worse than dead. Their bodies were partially flattened as if the organs had been sucked out. Some of the bones seemed to be missing entirely. Repulsive, brown sludge oozed from of their mouths and ears. Their eyes were pulled far back into the sockets.

  Norbert was suddenly sick. He stepped away so he wouldn't vomit on his own men.

  After he recovered his equilibrium, he took another look at the bodies. He couldn't imagine what had happened to them. Such an atrocity was physically impossible. What kind of monsters am I fighting?

  He needed fresh air. He hurried back outside and inhaled deeply.

  He was still trying to understand everything Edward had said about the Society. According to him, the mission was to protect the world from supernatural interference. Yet, members clearly had supernatural abilities. In a sense they were their own enemy. Set a thief to catch a thief, Norbert thought. Of course Edward was hardly a credible source of information.

  Norbert had more immediate problems to worry about. The trap
was failing, and the likelihood of catching the Child tonight was dwindling. Sending his men out to search had been an act of desperation by Norbert. He couldn't bear the thought of telling Father about another disastrous setback. Dying in battle was an acceptable alternative at this point.

  Norbert had hoped a few minutes by himself would allow him to come up with a brilliant strategy. Unfortunately, no great ideas had come to him yet. He rubbed his temples in an attempt to push more blood into his brain.

  * * *

  Aaron crouched in the shadow under a bush. He was watching a small, empty parking lot. The only feature was a storm drain, covered by an iron grill that weighed at least a hundred pounds. The asphalt sloped slightly towards the drain in the center. To a casual observer the lot appeared perfectly safe. Aaron carried both his MP9 machine pistols in his hands.

  Six men with rifles walked across the lot, looking in all directions with anxious expressions. Aaron remained absolutely motionless. He squinted to prevent light from reflecting from his wet eyeballs. To the extent possible, he matched his body position to the general shape of the bush even though it felt awkward. Ethel had trained him well in the ninja art of invisibility.

  The Brotherhood monks went right past the storm drain. As soon their backs were to it, the drain started to rise straight up. Yvonne was lifting it from below. In an astonishing feat of strength, she threw the drain like a Frisbee and struck two men in the head. They went down in a spray of blood and brains.

  She charged forward before the other four had time to react. She leapt straight up, going at least fifteen feet into her air. The men turned but didn't see her flying above their heads. She used the torso of one man to absorb the energy of her descent. Aaron heard the crack as all his ribs broke at once and his lungs were flattened.

  A beautifully executed spinning kick took out Yvonne's fourth opponent. The last two were already aiming their rifles from a distance of about three yards. They would shoot her before she could get to them. The length of her arms and legs determined the maximum range of her attacks.

  Aaron held down the trigger on both his MP9's. Twin streams of bullets riddled the two men, and they died where they stood. Aaron walked out from his hiding spot.