Chimera - Part 2 (Asylum Chapter 21)

[Content Warning: strong language, violence, gore]

Harris opened his mouth and spewed a furnace-hot flame.

The blast caught one of the soldiers in the back. It seared through his body and erupted from his chest. He didn’t have time to register pain or shock on his face before he died. As he collapsed, clothes alight, the stench of burning flesh filled the room.

Deakes jumped back, cringing from the heat. Sweat coated his forehead and tears stung his eyes. Above the crackle of the fire and yells of the remaining soldiers, he heard Pippa screaming to get down and succumbed to her grasping hands. He landed hard on the floor beside her.

Schultz spun on Harris, lifted his assault rifle. He didn’t have time to aim before he was engulfed in flame. His twitching finger caught the trigger but the rounds missed Harris and thudded into the wall behind him. The scream he loosed carried the agony of melting skin and charring bone. It was mercifully cut short when his lungs burned away.

His death bought the final soldier time to raise her own gun and open fire. She put three rounds into Harris’s chest.

Harris was thrown backwards, pitching from the operating table onto the floor. In less than a minute he was up, rising and glaring at the soldier. On his breast, three pockmarks showed where he had been shot.

Zhu shouted triumphantly in Mandarin.

The soldier stared at him in confusion. ‘Troll gene?’ she muttered.

Tureaud released Zhu and took his pistol in both hands. He squeezed off multiple shots at Harris, each bullet hitting his target and pinging off as though striking stone. Zhu took advantage of Tureaud’s distraction and scurried to a corner of the room, safe behind Harris.

Harris turned his head slowly toward Tureaud. His chest expanded as he took in a long breath.

Deakes tried to shout, to tell the corporal to drop and take cover. His lips refused to part, the warning unspoken.

Harris’s mouth gaped. The air before his face shimmered in a heat haze. Two inches from his open mouth, the flame ignited. A beam of concentrated fire hit Tureaud straight on. His hands blackened and shrivelled, his uniform melted into his skin, his eyes sizzled as they boiled.

In his useless grip, the gun glowed red. Unspent rounds exploded, slicing through Tureaud and sending shrapnel in all directions.

Deakes’s face stung as bits of hot metal rained down on him. He was unable to muster the strength to move away.

‘We have to get out of here,’ the last soldier shouted to Deakes and Pippa. She ran to the door, with Pippa close on her heels.

Harris turned his head to Deakes.

Deakes’s stomach quivered. He wanted to follow Pippa but his limbs refused to obey his command. With his body frozen in place, he was transfixed by every movement Harris made. A twist of his neck, a tic in his cheek, a glance of his eyes. Here was a man who could dole out death in a heartbeat.

There was recognition in Harris’s eyes, cool and calculating. He appeared to be deciding if Deakes was worth the effort of barbecuing. Deakes could not even find the energy to tremble.

‘We’re not leaving you,’ Pippa whispered in his ear and pressed her hand to his shoulder.

Deakes’s head was clear in an instant. He couldn’t defeat Harris and he wasn’t going to stick around to be proven right.

The soldier had her rifle to her shoulder. ‘Go now,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not waiting forever.’

Deakes slid backwards on his behind, then climbed to his feet. Harris turned his attention to the woman training her weapon on him.

Behind Harris, Eddie pulled himself to his feet. The right side of his face was a bloodied mess. What remained of his cheek flapped wetly and his ear was gone. His back teeth could be glimpsed through the hole in his face.

Deakes had seen a few reports of people surviving being shot in the face. Usually, the aim had not been dead centre and the bullet skimmed the victim’s cheek. The ones who were lucky enough not to bleed out in minutes required hours of reconstructive surgery followed by months or years of physical therapy. None had been able to function immediately after being shot. What manner of cryptid was Eddie?

‘Have you learned nothing?’ Harris said, taunting the soldier. He took in a lungful of air.

‘I learned to fight dirty,’ Eddie managed to garble around his ruined mouth. He snapped his hands onto Harris’s face, plunging fingers into eyes, and yanked him backwards. As Harris fell Eddie delivered a hard kick before sprinting for Pippa, Deakes and the soldier.

No further instruction was required – they ran.

They didn’t stop at the curved passageway, they didn’t stop at the service corridor, they didn’t stop at the Authorised Personnel Only door. Only after exiting the building, almost colliding with Dust and the others, did they come to a standstill, panting hard. Behind them was the distant roar of fire.

‘What the hell’s happening?’ Andrea asked.

‘My team is down.’

Deakes saw the soldier’s name patch for the first time. Benedict.

Smoke began to curl from the doorway.

‘Did you start a fire?’ asked Fletch. ‘Was that the only way you could get Harris?’

‘Harris is the fire,’ Deakes said. ‘How long has he been hiding that talent from us?’ He recounted Harris’s ability to breathe fire.

‘You’re wrong,’ Fletch said. ‘Living creatures can’t create fire.’

‘Are you forgetting the fire bugs Papa brought in?’

Fletch’s eyes glazed over. ‘But they were insects…’

Deakes turned to Andrea and asked, ‘You know more about Harris than we do. Can you explain it?’

The pall of smoke grew thicker as they waited for her to answer.

Cruise said, ‘Your asylum is burning down. If you have any idea you need to share it now.’

‘It’s not possible,’ Andrea said, shaking her head. ‘There’s no way he could have the pyrobrachininae gift of creating fire.’

‘According to Theo,’ Pippa said, ‘Harris has been experimenting with splicing cryptids.’

Benedict gasped. ‘That’s why Zhu said the troll gene had spliced successfully.’

‘That would explain his bulletproof skin,’ Deakes added. ‘His flesh was as hard as stone.’

They fell quiet as this thought penetrated. The only sound was the slow but continual destruction of the building.

‘We have to get out of here now,’ Deakes said.

‘Where will we go?’

‘Anywhere. Survival first, plan later. Get in the car.’

‘Ground travel is too slow,’ Bendict said. ‘We’ll take the helo.’

Deakes agreed with Benedict’s assessment. The Land Rover could seat six comfortably and the helicopter could carry ten for a short distance. There were eight of them, plus the pilot.

Benedict signalled for the pilot to start the take-off procedure. The group hunched and made their way towards the helicopter.

The roar of the rotors almost drowned out the crash coming from the Asylum’s entrance. Deakes turned to see Harris emerging from the inferno. His skin was grimy with soot which only served to draw focus on his bright eyes. Zhu stumbled through the door after him, spluttering as he fell to the ground.

‘Hurry,’ Benedict shouted as she jumped onto the helicopter.

Dust stalled as she stared at Harris.

‘Don’t do it,’ cried Pippa.

‘He’s responsible for hurting Eddie,’ Dust said. ‘I can’t let that go unpunished. I can stop him.’

‘We can stop him,’ said Andrea. ‘Later. Right now we have to get-’ Her words were cut off as the whine of the helicopter increased. It lifted a few feet from the ground. Deakes yelled at them to get back to the car.

As Deakes, Pippa, Eddie, Andrea, Dust, Fletch and Cruise made their way for the Land Rover, Harris sprinted for the helicopter. The Little Bird was now twenty feet in the air. No way he could reach it. But that was not a problem for a fireball. The ball of flame rose and engulfed the helicopter.

Fire and smoke covered the windscreen. Even if the heat had not finished the pilot, he would not be able to see. The helicopter pitched and turned, whining as it plummeted into the ground midway between them and Hunter’s sentry post. The screaming of metal filled the air is it twisted, ripped, fractured. The tail rotor shot through the sky, smoke and debris trailing in its path.

*

‘Turn here,’ Theo said.

‘There isn’t a junction,’ Andre replied.

‘That doesn’t change the fact that we need to be over there.’ Theo pointed west across the desolate moorland. ‘Turn here or get someone else to drive.’

‘It doesn’t matter who drives,’ said Sinead from the backseat. ‘This is a city car, it’s not designed for rough terrain.’

Theo gripped the package and fought the urge to unwrap it now.

‘For the love of God,’ he seethed, ‘will you just obey me? We’re trying to rescue our Sage.’

‘Whatever,’ Andre said with a shrug. ‘But it’s gonna be a long walk back.’ He slowed the RAV4 and turned off the tarmacked road. The change was sudden, loud and painful.

When Theo had previously travelled to and from the Asylum, the Land Rover had bounced along the Moors. But it had been nothing like this. The RAV4’s suspension was incapable of dealing with the uneven ground, throwing the kobaloi around like pebbles in a tumble dryer. Theo’s head cracked against the door but he refused to cry out.

They had travelled only thirty feet before disaster struck. The front right wheel fell into a ditch and refused to budge. All of the kobaloi got out to assess the situation. For twenty minutes, they bickered about the best solution. Push the car backwards. Pack the hole with stones. Place a plank of wood beneath the tyre.

The combined efforts of the kobaloi was not enough to move the RAV4. The meagre number of stones they found were spat out as soon as Andre revved the engine. There was a distinct lack of aptly shaped wood lying around.

Theo was weighing up the pros and cons of walking the rest of the way when another vehicle approached them. Its huge size and six wheels made it much more suitable for cross-country travel.

The monster machine stopped five yards from them. All the kobaloi regarded the beast with awe.

A tinny voice issued from speakers mounted on the armoured shell.

‘Looks like you’re in a spot of trouble, Theo.’

*

With the helicopter nothing but a blazing shell, Deakes reached the Rover and shouted, ‘Get in.’

Dust remained motionless, staring at Harris who now turned towards her.

‘Come on, Dust,’ Eddie managed to shout despite his ruined face. The siren didn’t acknowledge him.

Deakes was not sure of the range or accuracy of Harris’s fire attack and did not want to find out first hand.

Dust straightened her shoulders.

‘What is she doing?’ asked Cruise.

Harris stepped lazily forward, as a cat plays with a mouse.

Dust voiced a soft, wordless melody.

Deakes had first heard her sing at Platform Nine as the lead singer of the band Dead Again. His opinion of heavy metal was that it was an affront to all things civil but he’d instantly become a fan. That was not due to some newfound appreciation of the music genre but the enchanting power of the siren’s song.

This time, he was not enraptured by her voice. Perhaps the dire situation they were in overrode her hypnotic power, but he suspected there was a different reason. It was more likely that the song Dust was singing was not intended for him.

He looked around. None of the others seemed affected by the song. Even Harris’s steady walk forward had not ceased. He was now within ten feet of Dust. Whatever she was doing was not working. If she didn’t move, she would be ablaze in moments.

Deakes considered driving the car around Dust and mowing Harris down. It would take him all of thirty seconds. But he was already out of time – Harris was upon her, grinning as he opened his mouth.

Dust squared her shoulders, raising her voice in defiance. Harris inhaled. The song continued, unwavering. Harris exhaled.

And nothing happened.

Confusion crossed Harris’s face. He inhaled again, longer, deeper, then spewed forth only a long frustrated breath.

‘What have you done?’ he rasped.

Dust refused to answer, keeping her song going.

Pippa whooped. ‘She’s tamed him,’ she cried.

‘Dust, get back,’ Eddie shouted and ran toward her.

Deakes followed. Dust may have quelled Harris’s supernatural abilities but he still posed a physical threat. They reached the siren at the same time. Deakes pulled Dust back by the waist while Eddie threw himself at Harris.

Harris lowered his shoulder and leaned into the attack, catching Eddie in the sternum. Eddie staggered back, visibly fighting for breath. Harris pressed his advantage, stepping up to Eddie and placing a hand on his face. Fingers dug into the hole in Eddie’s face. Harris pulled down on his lower jaw and Deakes was certain he heard ligament tearing. Eddie swung a fist into Harris’s side but he lacked the strength to have much effect.

Deakes wanted to rush to Eddie’s aid but was reluctant to release his grip on Dust. She was already struggling against him, trying to pull herself free. He understood her desire to save the man she loved, but he could not risk her safety. If Harris were to incapacitate her and regain his firebreath, they were all as good as dead. Their lives relied on her continued singing.

A lucky punch caught Harris’s temple. He stumbled back, pulling his hand from Eddie’s face. Eddie brought his foot back and launched it at Harris’s stomach. Harris dodged to the side, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s leg and holding him in place. He stepped further back, pulling Eddie off balance, then sprang forward and grabbed Eddie’s throat with his free hand. Even as he was hoisted over Harris’s head, Eddie tried to pummel his opponent.

Harris was a huge man and now he was imbued with the strength of cryptid genes. He tossed Eddie as though he were nothing but a toy. Eddie landed in the rubble with the loud crack of breaking bones.

Dust’s wriggling increased in fervour. Deakes held on tighter, worried he may hurt her but knowing it was for her own good.

Harris turned to them and grinned. He lifted an arm to Eddie.

‘He was the best of you,’ he sneered. ‘You can’t win here, so there’s no point in trying. I don’t want to hurt any of you, but I will defend myself.’

A metallic clang sounded behind Deakes. He’d heard it recently, back at the kobaloi house.

Clang-clang.

The noise repeated as Cruise stepped forward, arms above her head as she banged her bracelets together.

Harris was over six feet and she, resembling a five-year-old girl, was half his size. He openly laughed at her.

‘You have grit, Cruise. But what on earth do you think you can accomplish?’

‘It’s not what I hope to do,’ she said. Clang-clang. ‘It’s what I’ve already done.’

‘And what is that?’ Harris’s voice was heavy with scorn.

Clang-clang. Clang-clang.

‘To distract you.’

With his focus on Eddie’s fight with Harris, and with Dust squirming in his arms, Deakes had not noticed Hunter approaching. For such a colossal beast, the troll could move stealthily when he wanted to.

Evidently, Harris had also been ignorant of Hunter’s arrival. He spun and barely had time to leap aside as the troll’s fist crashed onto the place he had been standing. The ground bucked at the collision, sending shock waves which threw Deakes and the others to the floor.

Deakes’s heart soared. He had seen Hunter defeat POC-17. Harris didn’t stand a chance.

He got to his feet and helped Dust, still singing, back to Pippa and Fletch at the Land Rover. Cruise scurried over to them and they watched Harris’s destruction together.

For such a big man, Harris was quick on his feet and he used that to his advantage. He darted toward Hunter, forcing the troll to punch at the ground by his feet. In a daring move, Harris leapt over Hunter’s foot. Hunter’s fist slammed into it, breaking off chunks of toes.

Hunter lifted his other foot but Harris was gone by the time it came down again. Harris danced around Hunter’s legs, ducking this way and that, always a split-second ahead of the troll’s giant fists. The human’s agility outmatched his assailant’s, causing Hunter to hit himself more and more often. Each time he did, bits of the troll exploded in rock dust.

‘We should get out of here,’ Fletch said.

Deakes agreed, but he was loathe to leave Hunter alone. He had no idea what he could do to help, however, and merely watched on with frustrated impotence.

When half of his left ankle disintegrated, Hunter fell to his knees. He didn’t stop his attack though, still swinging his wrecking-ball hands at Harris.

Harris was panting hard as he dodged another fist. He was tiring and, after avoiding three more punches, his energy failed him. Hunter’s fist smashed into his hip. His pelvis and thigh exploded into a cloud of sparkling dust. The rest of his body dissolved as he fell to the ground. All that was left were glittering particles which hung in the air.

The hair on Deake’s nape rose. His stomach sank. He had seen this light show before.

The cloud swirled together, contracted and became a glistening golden ball. In a burst of crimson light, the egg exploded and Harris reappeared, whole and undamaged.

Fletch’s voice was filled with dread when he said: ‘Phoenix.’

* * *

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