The Zombie Knight Saga 4 Iv. | 'Embolden Thy Steeled Heart...'

'Hmm.'

'Garovel?'

'I'm thinking. He looks perfectly healthy, so it's probably not illness. I can see the aura around him--Officer Mallory, by the way--but the danger doesn't seem to be immediate. He IS in the middle of a police station, after all. I suspect the exact nature of the threat won't become apparent until he leaves the building.

'You want me go to the police station right now?'

'It looks like his s.h.i.+ft doesn't end for a few hours. You have time. Head down here after school.'

'Are you sure...? I mean, it's a man's life at stake... and I really don't mind skipping cla.s.s...'

'I'll let you know if the situation changes. In the mean time, you should probably take steps to conceal your ident.i.ty. If you end up having to take a bullet for this man, it'd be best if he doesn't see your face when you shrug it off.'

'O-okay, but... I don't exactly have a mask or... anything...'

'Figure it out. Borrow something from a store along the way, if you have to.'

'I don't think that's borrowing...'

'If you can't find a mask in time, then. Well. You're just going to have to risk it. Obviously, concealing your ident.i.ty is not more important than a person's life.'

Hector paused a moment, and then quietly sighed. 'I... think I know where I can borrow one...'

'Splendid.'

'It, uh, it might look really weird, though...'

'Oh. Well. Forget it, then. We can't have you looking weird.'

'You don't have to be mean...'

'It's tough love, Hector. Tough love.'

A few minutes before the final bell, he slipped out of cla.s.s. He could hear the instructor hollering at him for leaving early but ignored it and made his way down to the bas.e.m.e.nt level. He was hoping he could get into the carpentry room before any of the club members arrived, but he ended up waiting for its last cla.s.s to empty. He took to the corner, trying to be invisible, which was surprisingly easy with so many students, and when he spotted the welding mask that someone had yet to return to the storage rack, he gathered himself and reached out. He grabbed it, but so did someone else.

"Hey, what the--? Let go--Hector?"

Hector cringed, realizing it was Lance Alexander, treasurer of the carpentry club and one of the people he'd been trying to avoid.

"What are you doing here, Hector? Don't tell me you want to rejoin the club."

"No," he said, pulling the mask away from Lance. "I just... need to borrow this for a while."

"No one's allowed to take the equipment out of the cla.s.sroom."

"I'll bring it back."

"That's not the problem." Lance was bigger than Hector, bigger than most people, and no small measure of intimidating, but at that moment, Hector had every reason in the world to not give a d.a.m.n about what he had to say.

"Report me, then." He fled without waiting for Lance's response.

Hector knew Lance wasn't a bad guy. He knew Lance was just following the rules, and he knew that this would probably earn him detention for a week or two, but he didn't see a way around it. Perhaps the drama club had masks he could borrow, but he didn't actually know where the drama club met; and seeing as the school didn't even have its own auditorium, he figured it wouldn't be an easy place to reach.

He stuffed the black welding mask into his bag and left the campus on foot. He asked Garovel for directions and received them, discovering it was no short journey; but in time, he arrived and the reaper met up with him on the street corner in front of the station.

Hector took a seat on a wood-and-stone bench. 'So, uh... have you learned anything else about him?'
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'He doesn't get along with his partner or any of his fellow officers here. Everyone seems to think he's an a.s.shole.'

'Is he?'

'Maybe. I've only known him since this afternoon.'

'I guess it doesn't matter much...'

'He appears to have a daughter. Unlike him, she's a brunette and wears gla.s.ses. She looks very young, though the photo on his desk could be several years old by now. No information on the mother, yet.'

'Wow... you're observant...'

'You're easily impressed. It's not much to go on. Mallory doesn't seem to have an active case, at the moment. I only saw him doing follow-up paperwork, but I did discover that he's scheduled to appear in court in a few days.'

'For what?'

'Not sure, but there aren't many things that cops go to court for. If he were being prosecuted for something serious, I doubt he would still be allowed to come to work. Could be they just b.u.mped him off active duty, but I'd guess he's appearing as an expert witness.'

'So... someone wants to kill him before he testifies?'

'Seems likely. But then, killing a cop right before his court date isn't exactly easy to cover up. If I'm right, then someone's either very stupid or...'

'Very influential.'

'Yeah.' Garovel looked at Hector and smirked. 'Heh.'

'What're you smiling about?'

'Y'know, for someone dumb enough to kill himself, you're smarter than I thought.'

Hector's face went flat. 'f.u.c.k you, too, Skeletor.'

Garovel just laughed. 'How's the soreness, by the way?'

He groaned a little. 'Incredibly painful... but... I'm starting to get used to it... I guess.'

'It'll probably get a lot worse after today.'

"Ugh..."

They both spotted a police car exiting the station's side garage, a uniformed officer in the driver's seat.

'There he is,' said Garovel, clutching Hector's shoulder. 'Get ready. I'll follow him and give you directions. When I tell you, start running as fast as you can.'

Hector felt a blaze of vigor run through him. The soreness vanished, and he breathed deep. "Whoa...!" He could feel his muscles pulsing, his blood rus.h.i.+ng, and a surge of so much energy that he thought he might go insane if he didn't expel it.

'You might not need it, but put your mask on just in case. And make sure you don't run into anyone. That's more important than catching up to us.'

He slid the welding mask over his face. He had to pull up the small, black visor in order to see at all. The rectangular slit of gla.s.s bore a few scratches but not enough to obstruct his vision.

The police car was pulling away. Garovel flew after it, and Hector waited. They fell out of sight, and he kept waiting. Pa.s.sersby gave him uncomfortable looks as he stood there in his mask, trembling with antic.i.p.ation.

'Move straight ahead five blocks and turn right. Tell me when you've reached it.'

Hector bolted forward. His legs bounded over the pavement with more force than he expected, but he could tell that he wasn't even breaching his potential yet. He broadly weaved between pedestrians, still picking up momentum, but when he saw an intersection full of pa.s.sing vehicles, he realized he wouldn't be able to stop in time. So he didn't. He ran into traffic. A white town car blared its horn at him as he leapt clear over its roof and landed still running down the sidewalk.

It was so easy to run, as if it required no effort, as if it was more natural to run than to walk. Someone stepped out from a shop in front of him, and he swiped past the flaps of their coat. He slowed down a little to ensure he had control, and when the turn came up, he went right.

'I reached the turn,' he told Garovel.

'Keep going straight until you see the ramp onto the highway and take it.'

People were becoming a blur, so he slowed his pace again. A crowd filled the sidewalk up ahead. Hector could see himself nearly keeping pace with the cars, so he ran into the street. Striding the white lines between lanes and not feeling winded in the slightest, he couldn't help laughing inside his mask as he searched for a road speed sign. He saw one that said "40 km/h."

Once he boarded the highway, however, the cars began speeding past him again. He pushed his legs as hard as he could, and he was sure that he was running much faster than he had been previously, but the cars still roared by, and he stuck to the shoulder of the road. The next sign he saw said "110 km/h."

Still, after what must have been at least half an hour of running, he exited the highway, per Garovel's instructions, and found himself breathing heavily but not gasping. He figured his blood still needed all the extra air, but his muscles didn't hurt or feel tired in the slightest.

He soon arrived in a quieter neighborhood. He could see the police car parked in a driveway up the street. When he saw the reaper approaching, he slowed to a walk.

"How fast--" He paused to slide his mask off his face. "--Exactly how fast am I, anyway?" As he stood still, he could feel his own heart pounding faster than it ever had in his entire life.

Garovel shrugged. 'How fast can your body run without tearing itself apart?'

He scratched his head and returned with a wet hand. He wiped the sweat on his s.h.i.+rt, but it was similarly soaked. He wiped it on his pants instead.

'Officer Mallory is in his house. You should keep your distance until--' Garovel stopped when they both saw a black van pull up in front of the house. Five men stepped out. Two started for the front door, three circled around back. 'You'd better put your mask back on.'

'Right.'

Das.h.i.+ng up to the house, he saw them knocking on the door.

'Deal with the ones in the back first.'

'Okay.'

He snuck along the neighbor's fence and leapt over into the backyard. The three of them noticed him immediately and stiffened their postures, hands in their coats.

"Who the f.u.c.k are you?" said the nearest one, square-jawed and younger than the others. "What's with the f.u.c.king mask?"

"Uh... I-I heard you had some leaky pipes?"

"Get outta here before we--"

'You don't have time to chat.' Garovel touched his shoulder, and that familiar pain flashed through his body. 'Go.'

He rushed the youngest guy, who pulled a gun, but Hector flattened him before he could fire. The man stayed down. The other two pulled, and Hector took two in the chest before reaching the next man, slugging him in the face, and kicking his gun away from him. The last one fired five more times, three of which missed Hector completely, and went down with a kick to the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es and an elbow to the forehead.

Gunfire erupted from inside the house.

He stomped the door down and found Mallory crouched behind the kitchen's island, clutching his side with one arm, trying to reload his service weapon with the other, and staring right back at Hector. A ponytailed gunman was in the hall, and Hector walked straight toward him. A bullet ripped through the mask and pierced his neck. Hector yanked the man's gun away and smashed him in the face with it. A few teeth flew from his mouth and hit the hardwood floor as he did.

A gunshot made him run back into the kitchen. The last thug was slumped in the other doorway, his head blown open and bleeding all over the tile. Officer Mallory took a ragged breath and looked at Hector, doubtless wanting to ask the obvious question, but he pulled out a cellphone instead and dialed. He tried to stand but slid back down against the counter, bleeding nearly as much as the dead man.

"I'm going to a.s.sume--guh--that you didn't come here to kill me," said the officer. He put the phone to his ear. "Yeah, I need an ambulance." Giving his address and eyeing Hector, he added, "And there's someone else here in even worse shape than me... I think."

He tried to speak, but the bullet in his larynx made it impossible. Garovel invoked the recovery. None of his wounds hurt, but Hector could feel flesh contracting and expanding, fractured bones s.h.i.+vering as the they rejoined, and bullets getting pushed out of his body and clattering to the floor.

"Who are you?" the officer finally asked.

'What will you tell him?' said Garovel.

Hector was abruptly thankful that his embarra.s.sed face was hidden and decided to do what came naturally to him. He said nothing.

"Well--" Mallory paused for a grimace. "--Thanks for your help, though I can't imagine why you did it."

'Ask him who sent these men.'

"Wh-who sent these men to kill you?"

Mallory squinted. "How old are you? You sound like a kid." At Hector's silence, he said, "Rofal. Joseph Rofal."

"Because you're testifying in court against him?"

"Not against him. His little s.h.i.+t stain of a nephew. I was there. I saw him murder that boy. No more than ten years old. Dropped a cinderblock on top of the kid's head. And then laughed. f.u.c.kin' little b.a.s.t.a.r.d--" He broke off for a pained cringe and began coughing. His skin had grown pale. Sweat covered his face. "And now I'm dying 'cuz of that little f.u.c.k? I should've just... sh-should've just shot that piece of... stupid piece of s.h.i.+t..." The dreary look in his eyes seemed to suggest he had forgotten what he was saying. Or that he no longer cared.

'Ask him about his family.'

"Your family," said Hector. "Do you... do you think they could be in danger, too?"

Mallory just sat there, breathing slowly and staring vacantly at the yellow cabinets in front of him. Sirens in the distance told Hector it was about time to leave.

"Officer Mallory, y-your family... I can help."

'I think you should go, Hector.'

'But we need him to tell us...'

'I don't think he can hear you.'

Blood dripped from the corner of the officer's mouth.

"Officer Mallory... say something. Nod if you can hear me. Blink if you can..."

'Hector...'

"Is he...? He's not... You--you'd know, right?"

'He's not dead yet,' said Garovel. 'But he's probably not going to make it.'

"You can't... do anything? Nothing...?"

'I'm sorry.'

Hector closed his eyes and sighed. "I failed to save him...?"

'We failed, Hector.' The sirens were loud enough to fill the room. 'And if you don't run right now, our failures will only increase.'

He ran. Out the back, through the rear yard, and over the fence. He cut between houses to avoid the street.

'You should take your s.h.i.+rt off.'

He stopped behind the corner of a stuccoed house. He looked down at his s.h.i.+rt, riddled with bullet holes and soaked in blood. "This is..." He sighed. "This is going to become a thing, isn't it...?"

'Probably.'

"B-but... uh... I'm not sure... a black guy running s.h.i.+rtless through this neighborhood will, uh... go over so well..."

'Better than a black guy running through the neighborhood covered in blood. From a crime scene, might I add.'

"But I... I don't know if... uh..."

'This is not the time to be shy, Hector.'

"You say that like it's supposed to make a difference..."

'Take off the d.a.m.n s.h.i.+rt!'

He pulled it off. And as he looked at the wet cloth, he realized his hands were trembling. Arms, too, even all the way into his chest. It was faint, hardly even noticeable unless he was standing still, but there it was.

'Ah. Your body's gone into shock. I tried to suppress the effects, but this is to be expected.'

"What...? Why am I in shock...?"

'Seriously? You were just shot five times, Hector. Not to mention you saw a guy's brain spilling out of his head. And then Mallory, too. I'm surprised this didn't happen when you were stabbed last night. Just relax a moment. Sit down. You'll be fine.'

The sirens had stopped. They'd reached the house. Sitting in the gra.s.s with his legs folded together, he just breathed and tried to think. He frowned and pulled his mask off, as well. He touched the bullet hole with his thumb. "What did I do wrong, Garovel?" he whispered. "I could have saved him... couldn't I? I screwed up... but... agh..."

The reaper floated around him. 'Do you remember what I said before? Sometimes there won't be a good option left to choose.'

"...Is that supposed to be comforting?"

'No. It's not. Because we're not supposed to be comfortable. Being comfortable makes us complacent. Sloppy.'

"Then... what are you saying?"

'I'm saying we did our best. And we don't respond to failure with depression. We respond by becoming better. Until our best is good enough.'

Hector hesitated, but gave a solemn nod. After another moment, he asked, "What do we do now?"

'At the very least, you need a change of clothes. Do you know how to get home?'

"Um... actually, no. I'm completely lost..."

'Then I'll guide you home and return on my own to observe. Hopefully, I'll be able to find out where the mother and daughter are. Put your mask away. It'll only draw attention. It's a bit cold, but without your s.h.i.+rt, you can just look like a jogger.'

He bagged the mask and s.h.i.+rt both and started running, sticking to sidewalks whenever he could.

He kept going over the scene in his head. He kept questioning his decisions during the fight. Maybe it was a mistake to take out the three men, first. Maybe the gunshots alerted the two men out front and caused them to start shooting at Mallory sooner. But if he'd gone for the two front men first, then Mallory would've been alone against three. And even if he had somehow managed to meet Mallory before them, there was no way he could have convinced the officer that he wasn't also there to kill him. Maybe he didn't have to convince him, though. Maybe if he'd--. Maybe he could've--. Maybe...

When he arrived home, he found himself alone again. His parents were still out, probably at a restaurant, considering the hour. Garovel had left as soon as Hector began to recognize buildings.

He made his way upstairs and threw his bag on the bed. He wondered if he would have time to relax at all. He wasn't tired, exactly, but he felt like he should be. He sat down to take his shoes off. A bit of blood had seeped into his right sock.

'I'm at home,' he told Garovel. 'I'll be changed soon.'

'I'm at the scene.'

'What have you learned?'

'Apparently, the daughter was upstairs the whole time.'

'Holy s.h.i.+t...' Hector's brow lowered, and he scratched his head. 'Sh-she... she heard the gunshots and everything...?'

'I'm looking for her now. Word is, she saw a black male in a red s.h.i.+rt and a strange mask fleeing the crime scene.'

'Of course...'

There was a long pause. 's.h.i.+t.'

'What's the matter?'

'I see her. She has the aura. Rofal put the hit on her, too.'