His head was rapidly clearing, and as his eyes focused in on Queen, surprise and fear melted away, replaced by contempt. It had happened far too many times—her size and looks invited underestimation, especially from stupid people, who seemed to comprise the vast majority of the world’s population. This man appeared to be one of those, and she could sense he was about to make a big mistake.
“Last chance to live, pal. Tell me what Manifold is up to here.” Her voice was a whisper of frozen velvet, but he could not sense the danger that lurked there. He stared up at her, his eyes flinty with defiance, and gave a little shake of his head.
“Fine by me.One less asshole in the world.”
His eyes suddenly grew wide and he gave a vigorous nod. What a pansy.
“I’m going to move my hand and let you answer me. Keep it quiet or that’s it for you. Do you understand?” He nodded again, and she slid her hand up to his nose in case she had to clamp it quickly back over his mouth.
“You can rot in hell!” He grabbed her knife arm with his left hand and reached for her throat with his right.
Any member of Chess Team could have told this idiot that Queen, despite her size, was no weak little girl to be tossed around like a rag doll. Queen batted his grasping hand away from her throat as easily as swatting a fly, covered his mouth before he could cry out any more, and forced her knife down toward his throat.
The man now clutched her knife arm in both hands, trying desperately to keep the razor sharp KA-BAR at bay. He was strong, but not strong enough. Sweat beaded on his forehead and terror filled his eyes as the blade of her knife came down in slow motion like a guillotine in sore need of WD 40. He thrashed about, trying to dislodge her, but he could not. As Queen looked into his eyes, every horror perpetrated by Manifold flashed through her mind. This man, she reminded herself, was another agent of their evil, and an accomplice in the sacrifice of humanity for the sake of Richard Ridley’s lust for power. With a grunt, she forced her knife down. Warm blood sprayed her hand as the KA-BAR did its work with cold efficiency.
Something buzzed past her head and she heard the report of a rifle. She hit the ground and rolled to cover, trying to pinpoint the direction of the shooter. Another bullet buzzed past her, and she knew the shooter was somewhere behind Armina. The girl had not cried out. Either she was being exceptionally brave, or they had taken or perhaps killed her.
“Armina!” she called out as loudly as she dared. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” The girl’s voice was faint. “What is happening? Where are you?”
“Crawl to the sound of my voice. Hurry!” To her credit, Armina ceased her questions and complied immediately. Moments later she emerged from the underbrush, her face pallid but her eyes resolute. “We’re going to make for the stands.” Keeping low, she led Armina toward the old stadium that overlooked the grounds through which they now crept. It was difficult to imagine this sparsely wooded area had once been an athletic field. Good thing it’s no longer an open field, she thought, or we’d be dead.
Just short of the stadium, the wooded area gave way to a wide swath of cracked asphalt that had once been a track. Queen looked around for pursuers and, seeing none, grabbed Armina by the arm, took a deep breath and dashed across the open space.
They had almost made it across when someone opened fire on them.
A torrent of bullets tore into the stadium’s foundation, sending up a spray of concrete that stung as it scoured Queen’s face. No slugs ricocheted their way though, and they scrambled up the steps and behind the shelter of a low concrete wall that ran in front of the bottom row of seating. The stadium itself remained in surprisingly good condition after all these years. Its foundation appeared solid and the rows of wooden bleachers were still in place, though the wood was decaying in places. It looked to Queen as if, at any moment, spectators would come filing through the concourses and take their seats. This is what they mean by ‘ghost town,’ she thought. It truly feels like a place frozen in time.
“You see that concourse up there?” She inclined her head to the exit tunnel several rows up. Armina nodded. “When I start shooting, you make for that tunnel as fast as you can. When you get on the other side, find a place to hide and I’ll catch up.”
Queen knew their enemies would be keeping a close eye on the spot where they had last seen her and Armina, so she crawled forty feet along the wall before popping up, weapon in hand, looking for a target.