Costly Recovery

Tank placed Tova on a gurney. Julien noticed she was waking; it wouldn’t be long before she started hallucinating, or worse. But Healer was already working on her: she produced a syringe and injected Tova.

“This will calm her down,” she said. “We haven’t much time.”

Julien realized he didn’t remember Healer’s real name. What was it her friends called her? The Japanese name for fox? Kitsune? But friends they really had never been.

“But this a safe house, n’est ce pas, Healer?”

“It used to be, yes, Ouellet,” she said without taking her eyes from Tova. “But from the moment you activated the emergency procedure device, we’ve been in danger of being discovered.”

Julien didn’t answer to that. It could only mean one thing: Hounds. How long did they have then? For the first time, he noticed Tank watching over the window, nodding. There was someone else out there. Who did Healer and Tank use to work with? For the life of him, Julien couldn’t remember.

Healer was uncovering part of Tova’s upper body. She cursed when she saw her gaunted body.

“You always made bad choices, the two of you,” she said. “Damn, there’s too much damage…”

Silently, Tank placed his large hand on the woman’s shoulder. She lightly tapped his fingers. Sighing, she extended her hands over Tova’s prone form. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Tank closed his eyes, too.

Julien observed, fascinated, as Healer’s powers slowly restored Tova’s health. The effort was taking its toll on her, even though, as Julien surmised, she was tapping Tank’s strength. Tova seemed to breath more easily now, almost as if she was having a quiet nap. Had it been possible, Julien would have sworn she looked like she had put on a few kilos in the last minutes.

Then Healer fainted.

Before Julien could react, Tank, unfazed, took her in his arms and placed her gently over one shoulder; then he bent and did the same with Tova’s sleeping form. Without a word for Julien, he went for the door.

“Allow me, mon ami,” Julien said, running to open the door.

But the door opened on its own. Julien surprised himself by having a gun cocked and pointing at the intruder without flinching; perhaps Healer’s powers had had an effect on him as well? But the newcomer was fast. Impossibly fast.

“Woah there, mate,” Julien heard. “You’ll hurt someone with that.” And he found his gun dismantled in his hand. So this had to be Whizzer. Julien had never met the man, but he had always thought his choice of nickname stupid. But beggars can’t be choosers, he judged.

“We gotta go, Tank,” Whizzer said. “Are they OK?”

Tank nodded and pushed past Julien.

“You go first, please, mon ami,” Julien whispered to Tank’s back. Impossibly, the giant tapped his own ear. Julien shivered.

***

It was too late. As soon as they stepped out, the pack of Hounds was upon them. The bio-constructs were nasty, feral and single-minded. So single-minded, indeed, that the control of their caretaker was total.

Whizzer had immediately raised a wall of defense, consisting of himself running in circles, keeping the growling beasts at bay. Even though he had never met the man before, Julien assumed the worst and surmised that the situation couldn’t last.

Well, he wasn’t as fast as Whizzer, but he still had his dismantled gun in his hand. There was no time to reach for the one in his satchel; the small one would have to do. Weapons were his home turf: it felt good to let his hands move upon the metal and plastic and watch how the pieces became a mortal instrument once again.

Even more satisfactory for him was to discover that, as he was busy assembling his weapon back, Tank had just had time to bend down and laid the two women on the ground. The giant was now striking a defensive stance.

Julien raised his weapon, taking aim in the same movement. It was like back in the good old days, he felt his mind telling him. Time slowed for him: he could distinguish Whizzer, still only a blur but somehow a distinct blur among the dark, snarling figures.

Julien shot once, twice. Two Hounds fell. One still moved, he saw, and cursed. What had he expected, after the last years? In a sense, it was almost a miracle that the weapon didn’t explode in his hand.

He heard noises to his left, and he simply waved and shot. A dark figure fell. As he twisted, he stole a glance towards Tank: the titan had one Hound in each of his hands, and he was simply shaking them. Julien had the mental image of bones and sinew becoming dust under that assault.

“There’s too many of them!” Whizzer’s voice said, apparently from several places at the same time.

Julien didn’t answer. He turned around, firing now and then, making sure each shot count and a Hound fell. Not only was Whizzer right, but he had never seen a pack this size. But then he’d been retired for some time. He kept searching for the Caretaker. Unless the range of their powers had changed a lot, which was always a possibility, the pack leader couldn’t be too far.

There, by the bushes two houses down the road. A momentary reflection was all Julien needed. He had him -no, her.

If time had slowed down before, now it crawled.

He saw a Hound slipping past Tank’s stretched hand, jaws gawping towards Tova’s prone form.

Another beast came straight at him, Whizzer on its tail. Julien knew he wouldn’t arrive on time.

The Caretaker was too far for his handgun. Possibly. He’d have to compensate for the distance.

One shot was all he had.

His favourite odds.

I have to quit gambling, he thought.

Bang.

All the Hounds fell as if thunderstruck. So, it’s still the same: take out the Caretaker, down goes the pack. That had always been their drawback.

Julien sighed. Whizzer stopped by his side, panting. He heard Tank groaning uncomfortably near the women. Quite possibly he had taken bites, but Julien knew he’d recover soon.

“We gotta go,” Whizzer said.

Floodlights illuminated the night as jet engines roared above.

“Merde,” Julien said.

And then the mist raised, as if by magic, wrapping them in their embrace.

Tova smiled weakly, still sitting on the floor.

“I got better,” she said. “Let’s hurry, they gotta have infrareds.”

~~~~

This is my entry for this week’s Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: Kids Say The Darnderniest Things.

I chose to go with the sentence “You guys don’t make good choices,” and noticed that it was perfect for the protagonists of my story from last week. And since a reader had asked me about it, I decided to continue the story.