Molly - Part 1

Chapter 37

Blood running down his mouth. It tasted sweet, for he had been born of wolves and so loved the taste of sheep. His name was Torph and he was a god amongst men. He shouted for them to come, spitting on the ground and pointing a finger to the sky, the dead sky which had swallowed them all up and sent them into this strange dance.

A shot, from the gloom.

"They are all your enemy," Selena cried. "But remember: The girl is the real hunt."

The thrill: Torph didn't think any force on this earth could stop them. They could fight without guns. They could conquer nations with nothing but their bare hands. What kind of government could ever stop such a thing?

"Fuck 'em up!"

Sorn died in front of him, Tala to his right, and from the cracks of the city came the vultures. They'd grown too aggressive; their numbers needed to be culled.

Torph hesitated. Why had so many taken off their masks? They were naked without them, pale as death. Stretching from their eyes were strange black marks--long, weird wrinkles.

Torph caved his machete through one of their skulls, then kicked a dog, the animal snarling, as sickly-looking as its masters.

They were scattered now. The fog was thick, the vents spewing and never stopping.

A monsieur fell against a shed, coughing up something foul. Torph took care of him quickly, his knife sticking out of the kid's head, laughing as he did it.

Torph took the monsieurs' machine gun; the sheep-mother had told them that this was their directive: to win at any cost.

Tally shot up the guy in the sheep costume, nearly dropping her gun, one she'd stolen from the freaks in masks.

"Fuck man, don't drop it."

Nick stumbled back, nearly tripping himself up. Tally grabbed his collar, wanting to curse at him but it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Yaask laughed, shooting the revolutionaries up with one burst.

"What are these station-fucks doing down here?"

"I don't know," Rurn gasped. "Fuck, it's getting so hot."

Red beams shot from the street running parallel, twin blurs shooting past them. They got out into the street and looked upon the courtyard.

A lot of the sheep men had died. It was a wonder any were left.

The fog continued to roll in. Rurn coughed. He'd chosen not to wear his gas mask. Yaask wasn't so stupid. He knew the air wasn't any good; it was plain to see; look at the vents; look at how people were changing.

Bulletfire, from the south; Yaask dipped down, Rurn just making it behind a platform. The bulletfire continued, then two men darted outside and into a complex with its doors ajar.

"Cast-offs," Run seethed. "Maybe Gordon's?"

"If that's true then I'm out of here; I'm not sitting around in the middle of a war--"

Dust sprayed against him, holes forming on metal. Yaask ducked down as he skimmed along a low-bearing wall. They climbed over. Yaask realized they were being followed, the crunch of footsteps giving away the stalkers.

"Rurn, you stupid--"

Molly shot him between the eyes. It was the most mercy she could give these people. The other was felled by Teddy, perched on a scaffolding, leaning against one of the complexes. He lay down, then nodded at Molly who delved back into the fog.