Arachna

Malcolm Landreau stumbled and fell at the sound of Eric’s voice, a beaker crashing to the floor next to him.

Kaela’s jaw hung as she stared at him. The way his body moved, it almost appeared… rotten. She would have gasped if her ribs weren’t aching. Is this real? How hard did I hit my head?

“Can you imbeciles not see that I’m working?” Odd noises came from Malcolm’s mouth as he crawled over the remnants of broken glass and swept them away. His mouth hung open, teeth rotted, eyes dark purple and empty of life. But as he looked at Eric, a smile crossed his face. “You.”

Kaela expected Eric to smile back, but even he seemed to find the sight too much.

“Malcolm Landreau,” he said, calmly looking him up and down. “What in the hell happened to you?”

The man laughed. “I think you know, my dear boy.” He laughed again, a giggle almost. “I truly must thank you for what you did to me. Gruesome as it was, you proved my experiment a success. Oh, how I had been dying to see if it worked…” He paused in disposing of the broken glass then looked at Eric. “And I suppose I did.”

“You were supposed to be buried,” Eric said. His teeth clenched, and his eyes danced with fire.

“Oh, I was,” Malcolm said. “I dug my way out. At this very church, in fact. I admit, it was clever of you to have my body brought all the way out here. After I survived, I had my brother Caleb send lab equipment so I could continue my research.”

Something flashed in Eric’s eyes, and his face fell for a flicker of a second. “So that’s how he knew…”

“What experiments?” Derek asked.

Malcolm smiled with those rotten teeth then gestured at himself. “This experiment. The drug that can make a human into a superhuman.” A tooth fell from his mouth. He frowned at it for a moment and added, “With some side effects, of course.”

Silence hung in the air for longer than it should have, and after a few moments, Malcolm seemed to have lost interest and went back to working on something at his table.

Kaela narrowed her eyes. Why was he so willing to answer their questions?

“I don’t understand,” Derek said. “How does this drug work? Do you know about what happened to the police chief?”

“So many questions,” Malcolm muttered rapidly, sounding like he was talking to himself. “The one in this city? Hmm, this city… ‘Full of suckers,’ my brother once said. Which one, I wonder? Perhaps both.”

“Malcolm,” Kaela said. “The question?”

“Ah, yes. Chief of police was unwilling at first. Claimed she knew her men better than anyone. Claimed they needed no drugs to make them better. But my brother convinced her.” He giggled again. “Convinced, I say. That is the word my brother used. She found that herself and her men were much better off with the new medicine. Very few side effects. I was not so lucky.” He was silent for a moment, staring at the ground as if in shock. He composed himself and continued, “Though I suppose that was because mine was a different strain. Regardless, this drug was a genius idea. My genius idea. My brothers helped. Caleb knew how to sell, how to convince. Daniel is much stronger, much tougher. Head of security, so he needed—”

“What does the drug do?” Eric asked with a frown twisted in an unnatural fashion, nearly resembling a toddler with his toys ripped away.

Perhaps it was the stench permeating the room.

“The drug,” Malcolm repeated, “triggers bursts of adrenaline in controlled waves. Stronger, faster, quicker thinking. However, some have opposite effect. Mental fortitude plays large factor. Different strains may have different effects. Also aids immune system. Resistance to dozens of diseases and sicknesses. Miracle drug.”

“What do you mean?” Kaela said.

He hummed. “This strain of the drug provides me with immortality. Life expectancy increases exponentially.”

More silence, and as if forgetting what he was talking about, he resumed his work.

“Immortal?” Eric said, his eyes bright. “What do you mean, ‘immortal’?”

“Immortal,” Malcolm said. “Virtually speaking. Nearly impervious to damage, but can still technically die. Greatly slows aging process. Double, maybe triple usual life expectancy.” After another chuckle, he continued what he was doing. “Does not slow decomposition process, however. Then again, drug had not activated then. Perhaps it can slow decomposition. I must add that to my research!”

“This is exhausting,” Kaela said. “I need a drink.” She had one last question, after seeing what the chief had done. “What’s the connection between the police chief and her men? When they were injured in ways that should have killed them, she… did something. And the men would rise back up and keep fighting.”

“Ah,” Malcolm said. “Yes. Drug has two primary strains. Beta strain and alpha strain.” He writhed his hands together like they were cold. “Chief of police given alpha, her men beta. Marvelous things, she can do. Control the drug in their blood. Turn off pain receptors, heal them, raise them from near death, even. Unexpected results, however. She now holds control over them. Theoretically could control blood outside of bodies as well, almost like telekinesis. Haven’t tested theory.” He laughed then looked scared. “Caleb. Had his men take a similar drug. Gave himself alpha drug, for when he would need to awaken it within them. Only in emergencies, only when he lost his temper. Yes… gave the chief of police a cocktail of both, unfortunately. He can control her as well. Not sure that she knows that.”

Malcolm pointed at Eric with a smile. “It is you he does not like. He will only shut alpha drug off once you are dead. Only then will he and his men return to normal. Or so he claims. Fascinating.”

Again, as if nothing had happened, he resumed his work.

“An alpha drug,” Kaela repeated. “Does that even make sense? I mean, what can something like that be made of to be remotely activated?”

She stared at the rotting man before her. He claimed immortality, yet his body was so distorted. Whatever this drug was, it was not to be played with.

“What is in this drug, Malcolm?” Eric asked.

But Malcolm said nothing.

Eric asked again.

And again.

But Malcolm remained silent, as if he couldn’t hear anymore.

“Is there a cure?” Eric pushed.

Only then did Malcolm react. He said, “Of course not. Why ask for a cure to a cure? Putting a bandage on a clean patch of skin. Why do such a thing?” He laughed again, and purple blood splattered to the floor.

“Doesn’t look like much of a cure,” Kaela said.

“All things require some sacrifice.”

Eric took another step forward. “Is there no possible way to shut off that drug?”

Malcolm paused and stared at him longer than he should have. “I suppose there could be… some method of shutting down the medicine. Death is possible, though unlikely. Decapitation, a thorough burning, things that render the body entirely useless. Irreversible damage of the mind may also suffice. A cure, however, as you put it, a version of the drug that can deactivate the other strains… What a challenge. A challenge I would rather enjoy.” He smiled, and another tooth fell out. “I shall begin my research immediately!”

* * *

Lance stirred as pain crawled all over his body. His head pounded, and a faint clicking disturbed the silence. Also, a quiet voice was speaking to itself. He turned his head, and an orange glow shone through his eyelids. The voice went quiet, and the clicking sound did the same. His eyes were heavy.

Finally, he opened his eyes. At first, he had no idea where he was. But then… George was staring at him. His hand was in his doctor’s bag.

“How are you feeling?” George asked.

Lance’s throat was dry and scratchy. Water. If I could just have some water… “Terrible,” he answered, his voice like gravel. “Water.”

George sighed. “I don’t think we have any water. I’m sorry.”

Lance leaned his head on the hard wooden back of the pew and swallowed, the feeling akin to swallowing a razor blade. But then he raised his head and looked around the empty church. Only him and the doctor.

“Where is everyone?” Lance asked.

A door was open at the back of the church.

“They went down to the basement because they heard something.” He thought for a moment. “They’ve been down there for a while, but I keep faintly hearing their voices, so I’m sure they’re fine.”

Lance tried to stand, but his leg protested.

“You’re lucky,” George said. “None of your injuries are too serious. You’ll be sore for a few days—that’s for sure. The worst problem is that leg, so stop trying to stand without that cane.” He nodded toward Eric’s cane on the floor then bent over to pick it up. George offered the cane to Lance, who grabbed it tightly. “It’s broken pretty bad. I did my best to make a splint, but that’s about all I can do. From here on out, it’s up to you not to walk on it.”

Lance looked down at his leg, at two small pieces of wood wrapped tightly to it. He tried to move it, and a spike of pain shot through his leg. He swore through gritted teeth and gripped the cane harder.

Lance felt along the cane until his thumb grazed the smallest of switches. That would unlock the blade, he knew. It would come in handy later, especially if he had the calm settling over him, or the serpent—the beast, whatever it was. Beast sounded right, the way it hissed and whispered inside him, the way it fumbled around in his gut.

“I’ve got to say…” George said. “You’re tough for someone who just owns a store here. You seem like the kind of guy that’s been in a few scraps.” He laughed, the sound hearty and warm.

“Not really…” Lance snorted with another look around the empty church, unwilling to show more weakness to this stranger than he already had, especially when Eric trusted him.

“No military experience at all?”

Lance furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Okay,” Lance said. “You mind if I ask a few questions?”

George shrugged and motioned for him to continue.

“What’s the deal with you and Eric? He’s not the most trusting guy, so for him to put as much faith in you as he does is surprising. And for you to so easily come to Arachna and join the group like this is odd. Did he threaten you… bribe you?”

George looked at the open door in the back, and the distant sound of voices spiked, only to quiet down again. “No,” he said. “I actually wasn’t planning on it at first. I was going to find somewhere to set up shop here until things in Agni calmed down. When I saw what was happening in this city, I figured my best option would be to stay with Eric, at least until I find my own way.”

“You’d probably be safer leaving.”

George smiled at him. “Maybe. But I caught a glimpse or two of what those officers are doing to innocent citizens. At my age, I can’t really handle myself in a fight, and I certainly can’t take a beating, so the way I see it, it’s best to keep the company of people who can fight. Besides, you all would do well to have a doctor around.” He made eye contact with Lance. “It was a deal I made with Eric on the way in. And I’ve known him since he was a teenager. At that time, he was more of a petty thief and a con artist. I always patched him up when he was hurt.”

“When did he actually start trusting you?”

“About a year or so after I met him. He never understood why I patched him up for free, and he always thought I would ask for something in return. When a year passed and I did nothing of the sort, he opened up more. Next thing I knew, we were friends.”

George didn’t speak after that, and Lance didn’t either, more because of the pain in his throat than anything else. Lance closed his eyes and breathed as George stood. The pew in front of him creaked.

But with his eyes closed in the silence that followed George’s movement, something caught his attention. A sound outside the church. A car door shutting.

Lance ignored it at first. Then a familiar voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Run.

His eyes shot open. It was the only word besides ‘survive’ the beast had spoken. For it to offer such an alternative…

Lance sat upright, and pain seared through his body. He removed his pistol from its holster on the floor and blew the candles out.

George turned to him. “What are you doing?”

“Go to the basement. Now,” Lance whispered, the adrenaline numbing most of his pain. “There are people outside, and unless you’re expecting company, we need to hurry.” With nothing but the moonlight and memory to guide them, Lance stood with the cane in his hand and his arm around George. The doctor’s breath became quick and panicked when silhouettes of men passed by a window, their shadows casting over Lance and George as they rushed to the door in the back and shut it behind them. George fumbled around at the door until it locked with a heavy click.

“How’d they find us?” George asked, his voice breathy.

Lance cursed. “The police car,” he answered. “There’s a police car right outside. It’s my fault. I should’ve hidden it better.”

Stupid, Lance thought. How’d they even think to come this far into the slums?

George didn’t acknowledge Lance’s confession as they stumbled down the stairwell.

Derek, Kaela, and Eric were sitting on the stairs, their haunted faces illuminated by torchlight. Lance didn’t understand until he and George reached the bottom of the stairway. He froze. A glowing-purple-veined man was fussing over a flat sarcophagus with an array of chemistry equipment scattered across it.

Before he could ask, Derek stood to face them both. His face was grim. “What’s wrong?”

George spoke, his voice panicked. “Someone’s here.”

Kaela whirled her head toward them, but Eric appeared unfazed.

“What?” Derek glanced at Lance and twisted his face in thought. “Why the hell would they have come all the way out here?”

Eric kept his gaze on the purple-veined man, still huddling over his equipment. He seemed completely unaware of what was going on around him. “Is it the chief?”

“Who else?” Lance asked. “It has to be her.”

“No,” Eric said. “No, I don’t think so. You said she was burned, right? How badly?”

“She took the brunt of the explosion, and her body was on fire. How much more could she have been burned?”

They were going to die. Lance could feel it. The calm refused to grace him this time, but the thing in his stomach writhed as if trying to escape.

Eric’s eyes flashed at Lance’s tone. But then the purple-veined man turned his attention toward them.

“I may know,” said the man, and when he stepped closer, Lance recognized him. He nearly lost his balance, the cane preventing him from falling. But he stepped back and sat on the stairs.

Malcolm Landreau, looking as rotten as his corpse was supposed to be.

“Oh, God.” Lance gaped at them all, raising his hands to his head. “Did I die or something? What in the hell…” He ran a hand through his hair then checked his forehead for a fever. “Am I in hell? Is this a fever dream?”

Malcolm spoke quickly, as if his brain was too fast for his mouth. “As stated before, decapitation, burns beyond function, destruction of the brain—all render drug useless. If chief of police burned badly enough, it is likely she is very dead. However… strongly depends on the amount of damage done by—” He stopped and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes widened, and he smiled, but then the smile dropped, and fear crossed his rotting features.

“No,” Malcolm said, backing away. “He’s here.” He closed his eyes for a moment then reopened them in shock. “He’s angry.”

Lance’s heart dropped to his stomach, then Eric’s eyes widened, and something like fear appeared behind them.

Lance froze—injured, scared, and on the verge of a panic attack. The stirring within him slumbered. The killing calm wasn’t there, just panic and adrenaline.

Eric smiled, but the fear in his eyes remained. “It seems Caleb Landreau has found us.”

Malcolm glanced around. “Can hide in sarcophagi if you like. Brother will be unhappy if you are here with me.”

Eric shared a look with Lance. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

“They’re empty,” Malcolm said. He held a finger up with a proud smile. “I checked.”

Eric looked around at the sarcophagi. “Kaela, George, hide in that one.” He pointed at the one carrying Malcolm’s equipment. “Derek, you and I take the one on the right. Lance, the one on the left.”

Stone ground against stone as they went to work sliding the lids of the sarcophagi enough to hide in. “Not all the way,” Eric said. “If the lids fall off, we’ll never get them back on.”

“Careful with my equipment,” Malcolm said as George and Derek slowly slid the lid open, the liquids in the beakers shaking. He stared at Lance, a grin growing on his face. “I remember you. That day in the cafe. Deal was unsuccessful. You seemed calmer then.” He frowned and looked Lance up and down. “Something different about you. How do you feel?”

Lance gulped. “Pretty shitty… but better than you, I guess.”

“I feel great.”

Kaela finished helping Derek get Lance’s sarcophagus open.

A bang sounded on the door, echoing down the stairway.

They all shared a look before scurrying to their hiding spots. Lance grabbed Kaela’s arm as she walked past. She glared at him with fire in her eyes, but it didn’t match the stinging in his hand. He drew his pistol and placed it in her palm. She stared at it then gripped it tightly and climbed into the sarcophagus with George before closing it partway. It was open just enough to peek out and shoot if a fight broke out. Lance could hardly tell it wasn’t closed.

Derek slid into the other sarcophagus. Lance tossed Eric’s cane to him, and Eric raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll need it if we get into a fight,” Lance said.

Lance climbed into his sarcophagus and strained to close the stone lid, leaving it cracked open just enough to see the room.

Thank God for the dim torchlight.

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm said. “I shall pretend none of you are here. This is exciting!” Something squirmed inside Lance. At first, it seemed the killing calm had returned, or the beast was warning him of some danger. But it was just discomfort at seeing Malcolm so animated. A man that appeared to be a glowing, rotting corpse, moving around and talking, looked so… wrong. The smell was enough to elicit a gag, but Lance resisted as another bang sounded at the door leading to the stairwell.

Bang!

The silence in between each bang was colder than the sarcophagus.

Bang!

Lance took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Bang!

What would happen if Caleb spotted them? Could they all fight him off?

Bang!

Malcolm giggled then gasped, and Lance nearly vomited.

Bang!

The door broke off its hinges and clattered down the stairs. Rushed footsteps followed, echoing throughout the chamber.

Officers stormed the room, surrounding Malcolm. They swept the area, checking corners and walls. But they didn’t take more than a quick glance before bringing their attention back to Malcolm.

The room went quiet, then another set of footsteps came walking calmly down the stairs, getting louder and closer.

An older man appeared. His hands were behind his back, and his face held no expression. His veins and eyes were purple. He approached Malcolm, wafting expensive cologne strong enough that Lance crinkled his nose. It didn’t blend well with Malcolm’s rotting stench.

“Brother,” said the man whom Lance could only assume was Caleb. His voice was steady and powerful. “How have you been?”

Malcolm coughed. “I have been well, brother. I see you have activated the drug.”

“Yes, and yours still has not restored you yet,” Caleb said, stepping closer to Malcolm. “Your body is just as rotten as the last time I saw you.”

Malcolm’s breath was uneven. “I understood the consequences when I took this strain, brother. I wanted to live forever, and I have my wish.”

Now Caleb looked around the room. “Why did you lock the door?”

“I heard a noise. Someone was in the church, I believe.”

Caleb hummed. “Yes, there’s a police car outside. We’re looking for the man driving it. You didn’t see anyone?”

Lance hissed as pain shot through his leg, and he covered his mouth. The beast finally stirred in his stomach, and he could’ve sworn it growled at him.

Caleb stopped midsentence and smiled. He turned his head slowly toward Lance’s sarcophagus.

Lance trembled, but not from the cold. The look in Caleb’s eyes sent a chill down his spine. The beast went silent.

Caleb snapped his fingers, and the guards, who’d all been standing motionless moments before, turned on a dime and stormed to the sarcophagus. They ripped it open and pointed their guns at Lance.

Lance raised his hands in surrender, his breathing panicked. Strong arms grabbed him and dragged him out of the sarcophagus. His leg screamed in pain, and Lance screamed along with it as the soldiers dragged and dropped him in front of Malcolm.

“Son of a bitch,” Lance muttered at his screaming leg.

Caleb harrumphed. “Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room, Malcolm?”

Malcolm shook, and he didn’t speak.

“You’re not telling me you did this to him, are you?” Caleb kicked Lance’s leg lightly.

Lance swore, hissing and fighting the tears welling in his eyes.

“You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I never,” Malcolm spat, as if the idea sickened him. “Was injured when he arrived.” He giggled. “Said… said he would hurt me if I didn’t hide him.”

Lance felt a small kick in his side. Then a harder one.

“Get up,” Caleb said.

Lance almost spat on Caleb’s perfectly polished brown shoes, just to spite him. Instead, he glared at him.

Caleb stared down at him with a deep frown. “I said get up.”

Lance did as he was told, struggling with his leg. He eventually found himself eye-to-eye with the man. He suppressed his cries of pain, refusing to allow this man to see anything of him that he didn’t want him to.

Caleb’s stature was that of a gentleman, a businessman, yet fear pricked at Lance with every movement he made. “Why would you fear pain, Malcolm? Aren’t you immortal?”

Malcolm stuttered. “Immortal, brother… not invincible.”

“Malcolm,” Caleb sang. “Brother… this man is a fugitive. Don’t tell me you’re helping him.” Anger flickered in his eyes, but he covered it up. “He looks exactly like the man you described that day. The one that was with Eric.”

“Yes! With the man that murdered me. Thought you looked familiar, sir,” Malcolm told Lance.

“We’ll discuss this later, brother,” Caleb said. He looked at Lance. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“What do you want?” Lance asked. He kept his face neutral, but sweat beaded on his forehead, and his leg ached.

“You killed the chief of police.”

The words lifted a weight off Lance’s shoulders. So fire did work. They could be killed. But how many more had been infected with this drug? How many would have to die in order to stop this madness?

“Burned her alive.” He turned his head toward a few of the officers. “The men and women in this room worked for the chief. I wonder what they would do if I left them here alone with you? If I cleared their minds and told them to have at you, what would you say to that?”

Lance expected to feel a stir in response to the obvious threat, but the killing calm remained silent. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t? The only thing keeping you alive right now is me. So I’m going to ask you a question, and I expect you to answer it, or I will walk away.”

Lance resisted the urge to glance at Eric and Derek’s sarcophagus. If Caleb was as powerful as Eric had said, letting him walk away was the best option. Perhaps the killing calm inside Lance knew that, as if it was some kind of entity, a parasite that resided within him and only showed its head when necessary.

“I’ll take your silence as understanding,” Caleb said. “Where are your friends at?”

“I don’t know. I was supposed to distract the chief while they escaped. They told me to meet them here, but they never showed.” When Caleb narrowed his eyes, Lance continued, “Now that I think about it, I’m starting to feel like I was bait—”

“You’re lying,” Caleb said. The words hit Lance like a spear to the chest. “You know where they are, and you don’t want to tell me.” He shrugged. “That’s fine. Just tell me where Eric is, then. He’s my priority, anyway.”

Lance gave no response.

“I’ll give you one more chance, and then I’m walking away. You understand what that means.” He took one step closer to Lance, and his eyes glowed. Power exuded from him, and every second that he stood close nauseated Lance.

“Where. Is. Eric?”

Lance kept his mouth shut.

Caleb snorted and leaned back, staring into Lance’s eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me. From what the chief said, you can fight pretty well. I suppose you think you can take on these officers by yourself, even with your leg injury here.” He kicked Lance’s leg again.

It took everything in him not to yell out in pain.

“That didn’t take you down?” The veins in Caleb’s arm glowed bright purple. The muscles throughout his arm rippled and bubbled like boiling water. Within seconds, his arm was as big as his head and glowing a bright violet. He smiled at Lance, who was too caught off guard to dodge the blow to his chest. The impact sent him flying into the sarcophagus, and when he hit the ground, he couldn’t breathe. He gurgled and gagged, trying to tell his lungs to breathe, demanding it from them.

While he was trying to get his breath back, Caleb spoke again, but it wasn’t addressed at him. “I’m so disappointed you would betray me in this way, Malcolm.”

Finally, Lance gasped. Air filled his lungs, and his chest hurt with every breath he gulped down. He coughed, praying that no blood would come out. His eyes filled with tears.

Malcolm spoke next. “I’m sorry, brother.”

Caleb leaned in close and whispered something in Malcolm’s ear. Whatever it was, it elicited a gasp from Malcolm. The ground swayed under Lance as he tried to stand again, only to fall back onto the floor, his leg screaming in pain. Caleb seemed completely uninterested in what happened to him. The officers surrounding him looked ready, like a pack of wolves waiting for their alpha’s permission to fight over a pound of flesh.

“No,” Malcolm asserted. He giggled. “I shall ensure he does not escape from your… efforts. You have nothing to fear. My body will simply come back from any death I am given… except decapitation, perhaps—still unsure. I shall simply cover my head.” He looked at Lance, frowned, and turned back to his brother. “You may go now, brother.”

Lance looked up at them, out of breath. Caleb gave a suspicious look to his brother then looked down at Lance and smiled.

“If that is what you wish, brother,” Caleb said. “When you’re done climbing out of the rubble, come back to Landreau Corp. We’ll talk, eat, laugh. After that, we’ll discuss your progress on that new project I asked you about.” As he ascended the stairs, he looked back one last time with a menacing grin. “Do as you please.”

The officers lowered their guns and holstered them. Their veins stopped glowing. Just like hyenas, they circled Lance like the savages they were.

There it was—the stirring within Lance’s stomach. The killing calm sensed the danger, but even moving that leg sent pain shooting through it. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. The officers closed in. If he didn’t try to fight back, he wouldn’t stand a chance once they began.

But the calm settled within him, and he opened his eyes again.

The officers were all standing around him.

One tried to send his foot into Lance’s face. Time slowed. Lance grabbed the leg midkick and twisted it. The bone snapped. The officer screamed in pain and crumpled to the ground.

Kaela popped up from her sarcophagus and fired her pistol. She hit two officers in their exposed sides, dropping them. Lance’s body moved, launching itself with his good leg at the sarcophagus. He dove inside, nearly landing on George, who was curled in on himself with his hands over his head. Kaela ducked back into her sarcophagus just in time as the rest of the officers drew their weapons and opened fire. Bullets sprayed on the stone and equipment, shattering stone and glass alike. Shards of it scattered everywhere. The air reeked of chemicals.

“My equipment!” Malcolm screamed.

The bullets stopped for a moment.

Suddenly, a sound rose above the silence. A quiet sound that none of the officers seemed to hear.

But Lance did.

He peeked out from the sarcophagus, and purple blood sprayed on him as a blade emerged from an officer’s throat. Eric’s smile shone through the dim light. Derek shot out from his sarcophagus and sent an officer’s rifle into her helmet. The visor shattered, and Derek threw her to Eric, who shoved his dagger into her face. The blade pierced through the back of the helmet. Lance’s stomach turned.

The last two officers turned to open fire.

Derek fired first, spraying bullets into their bodies. They dropped like bricks.

The room went quiet again, for good this time.

Lance was breathless when he made to stand. Eric wiped his blade on an officer’s leg. The clean sound of metal on metal reverberated on the stone as he sheathed his weapon.

“You’re going to want this back for now,” Eric said, handing the cane to Lance, who took it gingerly to balance himself as he left the sarcophagus.

Kaela emerged from cover with George. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. He, too, was out of breath. “That was intense.”

“Wait,” Lance breathed. “Where’s Malcolm?”

After a moment of silence, Lance heard a giggle.

Malcolm poked his head out from beneath the stairs. “I am fine.” He emerged with a bit of a smile. “We should leave. Brother is going to blow church sky high, he said.”

Lance froze and stared at him. “What?” He took a step toward Malcolm. “Is that what he whispered to you?”

Malcolm nodded. “Told me to come with him. I said no, not leaving my research.” He leaned in and put his hand to his mouth as if someone would hear him speaking. “But in truth, I didn’t want to leave you all behind. My research is all in here.” He tapped his head then looked at the equipment on the table, most of it shattered and broken. “Unfortunate. Let us go.”

“Where?” Kaela asked. “There are going to be soldiers out there, setting the explosives up. How are we going to get out without anybody seeing us?”

“No,” Malcolm said. “Unlikely. These were the only officers he brought.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

“We must leave now.” He rushed to the sarcophagus Lance had been in and took out a small bag, not unlike George’s doctor bag. He stuffed notes and whatever equipment remained intact inside and closed it. “Let us go. I believe there is a side door.”

He’d already climbed the first set of stairs when he looked back and waved his hand for them to follow.

Derek cursed. “What choice do we really have?”

The group followed Malcolm upstairs and back into the church. The door to the stairwell had been busted in and knocked down the first set of stairs. For Caleb to be so strong, and for Lance to have survived that punch—Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He was holding back.

Malcolm looked around carefully and signaled for them to continue following him. He led them to the other side of the sanctuary and disappeared into a thick patch of darkness, then a door opened. Moonlight spilled in, revealing the smiling Malcolm.

They left the church and wound around to the back. At Malcolm’s suggestion, they each hid behind a gravestone, peeking at the church from around the corners.

Lance’s chest ached, and his leg groaned in pain as the cold ground bit into it.

At first, Lance stared at Malcolm’s grave, where the ground had been clumsily dug up and bits of wood were scattered across the ground. But then he realized Malcolm was trying to draw their attention to the church.

Caleb stood in front of the building, his hands behind his back. His eyes glowed, and his veins glowed even brighter. Like a beacon in the night, he lit up, yet he stood as if nothing was happening.

Lance didn’t understand what Caleb was doing until a deep rumble shook the church. The ground trembled, and a loud boom sent a shockwave through the night.

Wood splintered, concrete shattered, and the entire back of the church began crumbling in on itself. As if in slow motion, the walls, the roof, the glass collapsed, all broken.

The church folded in on itself as blue flames erupted from the wreckage then disappeared.

When the dust settled, all that was left of the church was the front half. The back half was rubble.

“What just happened?” Lance risked whispering.

Malcolm shook his head. “Not here.”