mouse@mousenet.com
"RE-lax, Mr. Martinez. Ain't no pansy spike built yet that could tag this rodent's code. But out of the goodness of my heart, I'll decloak. Shelia, dear, to answer your question <visual file attached>: Sorry, no pants. According to the scuttlebutt, Dee's been slapped with too many gender-bending injunctions from the Klein Fashion industry. Apparently her 'rocks' can only support so many lawsuits. As you can see, Hardline featured our girl looking smart in a forest green blazer and matching regulation-length skirt. Notice her hair is looking better than usual, still a little windblown, but not the fashion faux pas we've seen before."
shelia@LINK.com
"Thanks, Kid ... Mouse! You're the coolest! Hey, speaking of gender-bending injunctions, – can we start a thread on how low-rez the gender-bending regulations are? I swear, I'd kill to be able to go outside in a comfy pair of jeans."
Chapter 17
Spotlights danced through the stadium as the copters encircled the ballpark. The blades chopped at the night sky. A metallic voice rang out, "This is the police. Lay down your weapons."
"Weapons? I'm unarmed," Daniel said, as we ran for cover. Giving me a sidelong glance, he added, "And it's not like you could hide anything under that skin suit."
I ignored his implied question. If things got worse, Daniel would realize that the Malachim were here and armed to the teeth. I was more concerned about how the police found us so quickly.
"I can't believe it's the cops again," I shouted, vaulting over the bleachers in a mad dash for the entrance to the interior of the arena. "Someone must have betrayed us."
"Don't look at me. I sure as heck don't want to go back to prison," Daniel said between breaths.
The deafening noise of air through blades precluded further conversation. I stopped running and looked up to see the shiny black belly of a helicopter looming directly above us. That the police had pulled a gas-guzzling beast out of storage just for us was a bad sign. The spotlight was aimed beyond my shoulder, so I could see someone leaning out of the door of the car. The figure was dressed in black and was difficult to distinguish against the night sky. He had something trained on us, possibly a scope of some kind, because only half of his pale face was visible.
"There is a US Marshal here," an amplified voice said.
And a police sniper, I thought to myself, looking up at the helicopter. The machine bobbed up and down in the air, as though agreeing with my unspoken thought. Hot wind blasted down, ruffling my hair. Daniel's coat snapped in the mechanical breeze.
"Surrender the prisoner," the voice commanded.
"I'm not going back there," Daniel said from where he stood, just behind my shoulder.
"Don't worry, Danny," I said, squaring my shoulders. "I'm not giving up without a fight. We have to make a break for it," I told Daniel. My eyes stayed locked on the figure in the helicopter.
"Ready when you are, partner," he said, a familiar tone in his voice.
The instant my feet moved, a red light flashed from the helicopter. I barely formed the word, "laser sights," when, I heard a deafening series of explosions. Daniel cried out. I spun on my heels. Daniel crumpled in the spotlight, clutching his chest. Hundreds of flechettes had buried themselves in his flesh. The rapid fire of the gun was so fast that, as Danny had moved to protect his chest, his hands had become pinioned there. "Oh, Danny! No!"
I dropped to my knees beside Daniel just as the spotlight blew out with a crash. Glass showered down on my head. Then, something dark and heavy fell out of the sky with a wet thud. A strangled moan came from the bleachers only a few feet from me. I saw a police sniper's body sprawled awkwardly on the plastic seats. Pale fingers twitched in the moonlight.
"Shit!" I heard a Malachim exclaim over the intercom. "Commander, I've got flechette rifle signatures on scope. Someone on the ground brought down ..."
"The kill was mine, soldier." Rebeckah cut him off sharply. Then, after a click to broadband, she intoned, "On my order the Malachim Nikamah will engage the New York Police Department and the US Marshal. Return defensive fire only. Repeat: We are firing in self-defense only." With a click back to the Malachim's private channel, she added, "Get those spotlights out of commission, boys and girls. Let's keep it clean."
Dots of light twinkled silently in the arena, as the Malachim engaged their laser sights. I turned my attention to Daniel. I rolled him over. I could see a widening, wet spot near his shoulder. The strong smell of blood and gore made me gag. Choking back the bile that rose in my throat, I put my arms around Daniel. "Come on, Danny, we've got to get you to shelter."
His fist clenched on the chain-link fence, and he dragged himself upright. Tears of pain glittered in his eyes, just as tears of desperation threatened to fog my vision. I held him tight around the waist and pulled him slowly toward the stair opening. I repeated words of nonsense, words of encouragement. "You can make it. Come on, partner, just a little farther."
Daniel's body was awkward and heavy in my grasp, and he crawled forward, hand over hand, with maddening deliberation. The constant rapid-fire explosions surrounding us made my skin crawl. Phantom sensations of tiny barbed arrows whizzing nearby jerked me this way and that, as though I might be able dodge something moving so fast.
Searing pain grazed my ribs, but I wasn't sure if it was a stitch in my side from exertion or the touch of a fle-chette. I didn't stop to look. If it were a flechette, I would know soon enough. Most of the barbs were programmed to start digging the second they hit something soft like flesh. I stayed hunched over Daniel, shielding his body as much as I could, as we crawled toward the doorway. "It's going to be all right," I kept saying.
"The Bible," Daniel said through clenched teeth. "Do you have the Bible?"
My helmet and the Bible were somewhere back on the bleachers. "I'll go back for them," I told Daniel. "Once you're in the doorway, okay?"
He clutched at my shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong. "Promise me you'll go back for the Bible."
"I will," I said. I needed to go back for the helmet anyway. Without that helmet, the armor was useless, and I was cut off from two-way communication with the Malachim.
Finally, we reached the arch of the doorway. I pulled Daniel as far into the shadows as I could. He leaned heavily against the wall with a grunt. In a widening circle, wet blood shimmered beneath his trench coat.
"Oh, Jesus, Danny, I don't think I should leave you." I looked around frantically for something to help staunch the flow of blood.
"The Bible," Daniel insisted. "Please."
I frowned at him in concern; he stared at me imploringly. Finally, I nodded. Balling up an edge of his trench coat, I pressed the material and his hand to the wound. "Hold this," I instructed, though I knew it wouldn't do any good. "I'll go back for the Bible."
Looking out into the arena, I could see red dots of light on the bleachers. The hulls of the stealth helicopters were smoking from the continued barrage from the Malachim. The helicopters careened wildly, diving this way and that around the ballpark. Spotlights illuminated retreating shadows of Rebeckah's soldiers.
With a quick prayer to Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, I crawled back out into the bleachers. I pulled myself along on my stomach by my elbows. A scream rose above the din as someone's mark hit home. I winced, not sure who to be rooting for; I wished no one dead. Police or Malachim.
"Oh, God," I muttered, as I inched along. "I'm so sorry."
A spotlight illuminated the space in front of me and headed in my direction. I started to squeeze against the bleacher, but quickly realized the inch overhang wouldn't protect me. When the spotlight reached me, I scrambled to my feet. Adrenaline rushed through my body, and with a whoop, I sprinted the distance to the helmet and the Bible. The spotlight stayed on my heels.