Shadow pivoted off his right foot, falling backward, and kicked with his left, catching his assailant in the stomach, but the maniac just bounced off the tunnel wall and came back after him.
Ray jumped between the two. The crazy guy with the knife seemed fixated on Shadow as Ray grabbed his knife wrist and broke it. The maniac dropped his blade and focused on Ray for the first time. Ray wasn’t taking any chances with this supposed phantom. He crushed the nut’s windpipe with a knife-hand blow, then kicked out both his kneecaps while he stood there wheezing.
Ray turned as his opponent collapsed. Shadow was a puddle of blackness against the tunnel wall, leaking red. The knife must have cut something important, maybe a lung. There were shouts of consternation and surprise coming from the other team members, but they were all too far away to help as the second nutcase leaned over Shadow with his garrote stretched tight, looking for a neck to twist it around.
Ray surged forward, kicking the apparition between the legs from behind. It was gratifying to discover that even apparitions had balls. The specter screamed and collapsed forward, falling unto Black Shadow. Ray went after him, but recoiled from the wave of killing cold that blasted out from the impenetrable blackness that was Shadow and the crazy guy.
Ray motioned the others away as they ran up, then he cautiously reached out to test the air temperature around Shadow and the supposed apparition. It had warmed up to the bone-chilling range.
“Shadow, you all right?” Ray asked cautiously.
“Been better,” came a weak voice from the darkness. The black dissipated slowly like squid ink in water, to reveal Black Shadow and the flash-frozen corpse of the second assailant. “Think he got a lung.”
Ray knelt down beside him. “Take it easy. We’ll get you back.”
Battle loomed over them, looking more annoyed than concerned. I thought you said these things were only immaterial manifestations.” He kicked the frozen corpse that lay next to Black Shadow. “This one feels pretty real to me.”
Puckett squatted by the one whose throat Ray had crushed. “This one’s real too. But he’s dead as shit now.”
Black Shadow shook his head, then closed his eyes in pain. “They were only ghosts the first time I was here.”
“Bloat must be getting stronger,” Danny said.
“How come these phantoms — or whatever they are — aren’t attacking us?” Cameo asked.
“Takes a while,” Shadow said through gritted teeth, “before they zero in on you. I been here before. I guess they were ready for me.”
“Right,” Battle said crisply. He looked at Ackroyd. “Send Shadow back to the mouth of the tunnel. He’s no more use here.”
Ackroyd looked at Battle, then Black Shadow, and wet his lips with his tongue.
“Well?” Battle said. “We don’t have all day. Get popping, man.”
Ackroyd smiled apologetically and shrugged. “I can’t.”
“What?” Battle said. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not Jay Ackroyd.”
Ray closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels. “Jesus Christ,” he said in a low voice.
Battle blustered wordlessly. “Are you serious?” he finally spluttered. “If you’re lying to me”
“I’m not,” the ersatz Ackroyd said in the same quiet, apologetic tone. “Jay Ackroyd has disappeared. I’m also a detective. I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to him. I’m an ace too. I can change my appearance,” he explained unnecessarily.
“Jesus Christ,” Ray repeated.
“Who the hell are you?” Battle barked.
The Ackroyd-imposter shrugged. “I don’t think you need to know that. You can call me Nemo.”
“Can you do anything besides change the look of your face, or are you totally useless?” Battle asked.
“Look, I didn’t want to come along on this thing. You made me.” Nemo looked thoughtful for a moment. “But maybe I can come up with something useful.”
He frowned, concentrating, then everything went black. All their flashlights went dark and the fear crawling around the back of Ray’s head turned to panic. Then the lights came back on, dimly at first, then brighter.
“Shit,” Ray said in a low voice.
Battle, for once, was speechless.
The Frankenstein Monster stood before them. “How’s this?” it asked in a growling rumble.
“Right,” Battle said, unconvinced. He turned his attention back to Black Shadow. “Well, there’s nothing we can do for you.”
“We can’t just leave him,” Danny said.
Battle looked at her coldly. “We can’t take him with us and we can’t spare anyone to escort him back to our lines.”
“You’re all heart, man,” Shadow mumbled. He made a move to sit up. “Don’t worry. I can make it on my own.”
Battle nodded crisply. “Good.”
Danny looked at Ray, who slowly shook his head. As much as he hated to admit it, Battle was right. They couldn’t afford to weaken the team any further by having someone nursemaid Black Shadow, and they couldn’t wait for someone to escort him back and then return. They had to move on through this area before their fears ate them away mentally or, worse, came to life and ate them up physically.
“At least,” Danny said, kneeling down by Shadow, “let’s bandage his wound.” She shrugged off her backpack, cracked it open, and rummaged through it for the first-aid kit.
Battle sighed. “All right, but hurry up.”
“’Preciate it,” Shadow said.
Ray, who had a certain amount of practical knowledge about field-dressing wounds, helped Danny, half the time glancing over his shoulder for a glimpse of his own personal ghosts of fear and failure to come haunting. He didn’t know what form they would take. He didn’t want to know. Hartmann, maybe, whom he’d failed in Atlanta. Or maybe Hartmann’s wife who’d fallen down a stairway and lost their child after Ray’s desperate lunge missed her as she’d stumbled. He made himself look at the ugly wound they were bandaging, forcing himself not to think of the things that scared him so he wouldn’t give them shape and substance. It was hard, very hard.
Danny helped a shaky Black Shadow to his feet. The ace’s face was almost white with pain and shock.
“Can you make it?” Ray asked quietly.
“I’ll make it,” the ace said.
“Good luck,” Ray told him. Danny echoed the sentiment while Battle, Puckett, Nemo, and Cameo looked on as Shadow stumbled off, leaning heavily against the tunnel wall.
“All right,” Battle said crisply. He beckoned Ray to his side. “Good luck,” Battle repeated with a snort. “He’ll need it all right. I suppose it’ll just make it easier for the soldiers to handle him, if he even makes it back to their lines.”
“What do you mean?” Ray asked in a low voice. “You sound like you expect them to arrest him or something.”
“I do,” Battle said with one of his bright little smiles. “Indeed I do. He’s a wanted criminal, after all.”
“What about his pardon? The one signed by Bush and all?”
Battle looked at him. “Signed by Bush? Really now? Do you know what George Bush’s signature looks like?”
“You mean it was a fake?” Ray hissed.
Battle shrugged blandly. “Black Shadow is a wanted criminal. And after all, what good was he to us here? He got himself hurt at the first sign of danger and then limped off. I don’t think he fulfilled his part of the bargain, do you?”
Ray clamped his mouth shut so tight that his misshapen jaw ached. Bastard, he thought. Dirty, lying bastard.
Battle nodded. “With Shadow gone and Ackroyd, that is, Nemo…” he gestured helplessly, “you’ll have to take point.” Battle looked around at the others, his face sharp with what Ray recognized as worry and fear. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said. “We don’t have all day.”