Dragon

[DerVVulfman]

Chapter Eighteen
Too Much PCP

Pure Skumm looked at her maliciously. “Bad, bad, bad, Beck, Beck, Beck, can’t join now.”

Ammo muttered “I knew it,” and slammed Becky hard in the gut. “You flunked.” Pure Skumm still gripped her right hand as she dropped to her knees, coughing. Two small firewads briefly exited her mouth, then dissipated. That, in itself, surprised Becky.

It definitely got their attention.

“Holy crud, what’s that slut been eating?” asked the neanderthal. The skinheads moved in a little closer around her.

“Bad tacos.” The voice came from behind the crew who turned to see Kevin Hunt. He let loose a with his M-16, spraying the neanderthal into permanently-dead status. The Baretta he’d been carrying clattered noisily to the floor.

Pure Skumm dropped Becky completely. Emerson scrambled to the freshly dropped pistol, and pointed it at the nearest opponent-- Ammo-- and perforated him with even more ammo. “AAAAAAHHH!!!” Emerson screamed. “PIECE OF SHEET!”

Two dead in five seconds. Becky coughed. No fire. Behind her, she could hear Pure Skumm ramble on.

“HELL, WHAT, DEAD, WHAT, BANG, CLANG, BLOOD!” Pure Skumm barked, seeking cover behind the nearest furniture. The mustache jumped forward, knocking onto Emerson, as Hunt tracked Skumm’s movements.

“Fox, GET UP!!” Hunt barked. He fired at a couch. Was Skumm hit? Hard to tell.

She stood there in a daze as Hunt and Skumm traded bad-shots. The mustache slammed his elbow into Emerson’s face viciously as they fought over the neanderthal’s gun. Both gripped it tightly. “KILL THAT BITCH!” Emerson and his opponent shouted simultaneously at Becky and Cath. The scream and the female skinhead’s motion roused her attention. Cath closed in. Flick ‘em, Becky thought.

Becky dodged a knife swipe by Cath by mere inches. Sidestepping her, she flicked her fourth and seventh fingers, only for nothing to happen...

Skumm resurfaced from behind a couch. Hunt clipped him in the shoulder, but had no effect on his target. Skumm dove down again. Hunt turned and saw Becky and Cath as Becky avoided slash after slash. “FOX, FRY ‘ER!” he screamed.

C’mon! C’mon! Becky thought frantically as she danced aside. Cath kept closing in with her blade. Becky re-flicked, but still nothing happened. NO! If this keeps up... Another lunge by the skinhead, her knife searching for Becky’s blood. Barely missed. Another flick of her fingers, and another slice, this time grazing her left arm. Becky shrieked in pain. At the same time, Cath screamed as her butterfly knife-- now useless-- melted into a fiery extension of her arm.

Witnessing Cath’s arm burst into flames freaked out the mustache, but he finally snatched the gun from Emerson. Becky tried to size up t he situation, but it kept changing every second. Emerson was flat on his back gasping for breath and his opponent became hers. The skinhead quickly trained the gun on Becky, but his hands got hell-hot as his weapon started to melt. He dropped it just in time as it contorted and flattened out on the floor.

Cath’s screams echoed in the room. But they were of no consequence for Hunt. Where’s Skumm? he thought. The couch again? The Chair? Damn! As he searched the room, he saw Becky shoot more flameballs at the other skinhead. They missed, as the Hitler-like skinhead ducked into the kitchen.

“KILL ‘EM ALL, FOXY!”, Emerson screamed, as the skinhead jumped over the kitchen counter, dodging two more flameballs. Becky was hesitant to follow him into the kitchen, though out in the open, she was a sitting duck. She had to follow. If not for the mission... the orders... she had to get out of the line of fire. As Becky stepped onto hard linoleum, a glint from behind the counter startled her. Becky ducked outside the kitchen wall just in time, as a loud blast from an assault shotgun rang out.. Scared as she was, she pressed herself against the wall and closed her eyes reflexively, wishing this all was a dream. But wasn’t, and the mustache had found another cache of weapons.

Hunt saw pieces of trim blasted off, inches from the redhead and returned fire into the kitchen. The mustache avoided the spray from Hunt’s M-16, but Cath didn’t. In pain and in panic, the female skinhead inadvertently ran into the line of fire. Her screams now stopped, she slumped to the floor; No more than a pile of flesh, blood and fire. “YES!!!” Emerson shouted.

“SKUMM!!!” Shouted the mustache as he saw Cath’s lifeless body. Becky eyes flew open just as Hunt fired a burst into the kitchen, shooting the shotgun out of the Hitler-wannabe’s hands. Becky saw a chance and ran over to Emerson. Ducking low, she started to pull the reluctant private out of the room. Opening her mouth wide, a jet of flames created a hellish barrier to protect Emerson and herself.

But Hunt was on the other side.

Still struggling with Emerson who refused to budge, Becky caught sight of Cath’s body on the floor. It was still burning. Her right arm, now a charred cinder. Becky turned away, muttering to herself “I didn’t kill her... I didn’t kill her...”

Hunt sprang forward and fired at the kitchen counter. After a short spray of bullets, he dropped the empty M-16. Becky watched from behind the fire as the mustache leaped forward. Oh, God! Kevin’s out! Becky watched with a mixture of amazement, relief and horror as the sergeant’s hand-to-hand skills came into play. As the mustached skinhead rushed forward, Hunt struck quickly landing a sharp blow into his opponent’s neck. He followed up his attack, fiercely placing blow after blow in every joint as the Hitler-lookalike staggered backwards. Dazed and numb, the mustached skinhead didn’t notice that Hunt pulled out a Glok and placed it to his forehead until the barrel began to smoke.

“KEVIN, LOOK OUT!” Becky screamed. Hunt didn’t have time to gloat over the latest body. A MacIntosh computer went flying through the air, crashing into Hunt, knocking him off-balance.

“MAC, ATTACK, MAC, ATTACK!” Skumm shouted as he resurfaced. Against Becky’s protests, Emerson started to crawl forward. Skumm grabbed a dresser-drawer and plodded over to Hunt. “THREE, ONE, THREE, FUN, ONE!” he sung out as he was about to smash the dresser into Hunt. Only, what remained in his hands were the embers of a dresser. Becky managed to strike the dresser in time. Skumm turned his attention towards her. “BAD TACO INDEED?” he laughed and threw down the flaming shards.

Why aren’t I running, Becky thought as the muscle-bound Aryan lumbered through the wall of flames towards her.

Hunt attacked from behind, jumping on Skumm’s back, but the thug didn’t seem to feel it. He spun around, grabbed Hunt, and threw him across the room.

Emerson attacked next. With all he could muster, he lunged forward. “TAKE THIS, MOTHER@#$%ER!” He stumbled, but hit Skumm square in the gut with his taser set to full charge. Even with all the voltage it delivered, it wasn’t enough. Skumm simply shouted “OFF, NIG, OFF, NIG, OFF, OFF, OFF!” and kicked him backwards. Emerson hit the floor again, cursing, but quickly rolled over and struck with his taser until it ran out of juice. No success.

Hunt was grappling with him now, wrapping an arm around his neck and squeezing hard. Even Flipper Becky was getting physical. She delivered a blow to the side of Skumm’s head with a Nazi Rolling pin (complete with swastika) she found on the counter.

“HMMM!” Skumm said. He swung powerfully at her, narrowly missing. It was too risky to flame him with Hunt and Emerson in close quarters, so she kept striking his legs and ribs. Hunt planted a knife in Skumm’s right shoulder. No effect.

Well, it did piss him off.

“AHH, THE HELL WITH THIS!” Hunt shouted. “Emerson, get back!” Hunt and Emerson stepped clear of the Aryan, leaving him alone with Becky.

“Just, you, just you, Beck, Beck, Beck” Skumm said menacingly. “BEER?”

“BURN HIM RIGHT NOW!!!” Hunt ordered. She did, stepping back and flicking six feet from her target.

Skumm’s legs ignited, plus parts of his torso. “BURN, BURN, BURN -- WHEN YOU’RE HOT, YOU’RE HOT! WOW! HOT! WOW! WOW! FAUCET! FAUCET! BATHTUB! NOW! NOW! NOW! WOW! WOW! WOW!” Becky gasped in disbelief. Pure Skumm was laughing as he stormed past the stunned soldiers, racing madly down the hall, leaving a flaming trail behind himself. He disappeared around a corner screaming “BURNIN! SKUMM!!! DAMN HOT!!!” Then there was silence.

“I am not following him,” Becky told Hunt. She was shaking.

“I don’t blame you,” Hunt said loudly, not smiling. “He’s had it. As far as I’m concerned, you got him.” Looking down the hall, Hunt shook his head. “JEEZ! How much PCP can one guy take?!?” No one could blame him. Skumm left a trail of fiery footprints behind him. “We’d better get the hell out of here before this whole shithole burns down! Emerson, can you walk?”

The private was in putrid shape. His arm was still bleeding, and he had trouble standing. “Dunno, man. I’ll try. But first... “he looked at Becky. “Cauterize...”

Becky was stunned. “You heard him, Fox,” Hunt said. “Patch him up, but don’t overdo it.”

“Are you sure?” Becky asked Emerson.”

“@#$%ing-A” he hissed. “I’m not gonna make it if ya don’t. DO IT!!”

Becky obliged, only opening so much between her teeth, limiting the flame. She was feeling much more confident with her ability to control it. Emerson groaned, but it was over in five seconds. “Damn.” He stood up, rubbing his repaired arm. “No flame, no gain. I think I can make it. Gonna need some help walkin’.”

“Right,” Hunt agreed. Pointing to the bodies of the dead skinheads, Hunt told Becky, “Them next. Fry ‘em all, and don’t hold back.”

“Kevin, please don’t make me --”, she began.

Hunt exploded. “DAMN IT, FOX!!! THEY’RE DEAD!!! I SAID FRY ‘EM!! CAN’T YOU FOLLOW ONE LOUSY ORDER FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?? WE’RE OUT OF TIME!! WE’VE GOTTA MAKE THIS LOOK GOOD FOR THE DOC, SO DO IT!!”

Stunned into silence, Becky followed the order, leaving little left of the skinheads but gray ash and blackened bones. She tried not to look at the remains, fighting anger and revulsion. Great! He kills three, Emerson gets one, and I get credit for everything!

The three were halfway down the center hall when they encountered Pastula’s bullet-riddled body. “Him too. Now,” Hunt ordered. “He can’t be identified.”

Becky repeated the cremation routine on the dead VSO soldier, hating herself. She, Hunt and Emerson made their way downstairs as quickly as possible. Hunt was supporting Emerson behind her. “Fox, you take point so Doc and the others can see you. You’re the star of the show, anyway. Let’s go.”

In other words, I’m covered at both ends, thought Becky. She was too discouraged to even try to run now anyway.

They stepped outside, and were illuminated in a VSO spotlight. Roberts and the other two soldiers were directly outside the van. Roberts held a megaphone. “Well done,” his voice echoed. “Thirty-two minutes, total. You’re late again -- but that’s to be expected from females.” Becky growled at the insult. “Only jesting, my dear. I realize there were... unexpected elements within. Is Emerson all right?”

“Shot in the arm,” Hunt answered. “He’ll be better after you fix him up. We’ve gotta get him in the back. Open the van up.” They approached.

Roberts unlocked the rear doors as the other two soldiers moved forward to assist Emerson. The doctor kept his eye on Becky, who scowled at him hatefully. She clearly held him responsible for every event -- every death -- inside that building. Roberts hadn’t killed anyone directly, but he had damn well made it happen.

“Well, I can tell from the look on your face that you’ve done a fine j--”

“BECK, KILL - KILL, VSO, HOT, HOT, HOT!!” laughed a nearby voice.

“OH, SHIT!!” Emerson peed in his pants. Hunt and Becky ducked.

Pure Skumm ran madly out of his dilapidated house, firing two hideously large automatic rifles, eliminating the two VSO soldiers who’d been waiting with Roberts. Their bodies dropped next to Emerson, who pulled himself frantically into the van and somehow shut the back doors. Roberts froze. Hunt saw Becky run forward, angry as hell at everything and everyone, and he wondered Is she trying to get shot?

Pure Skumm kept laughing, waving the weapons about. His clothing was tattered, his skin charred in numerous places, and parts of him were positively smoldering. But he kept charging. “ONE, EIGHT, TWO, FIVE, NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE!”

Becky shot a ten-second burst right into his face, which pushed him brutally back, ramming him against the house. “NOW CAN WE GO!?!” she screamed at Roberts who nodded abruptly but kept staring at the hideous spectacle.

My God, she’s done it, he thought in amazement, and I got to see it happen. She did it. “Hunt, you drive!” the doctor ordered. Becky jumped into the backseat with zero hesitation.

Roberts kept looking at the flaming white supremacist, until Hunt shouted “Are you CRAZY? COME ON DOC!!” Roberts shook himself from his trance and calmly stepped into the front passenger seat. The van sped away, super-fast.

What was left of Pure Skumm kept laughing at the night’s bizarre turn of events. Eyeless and showing bone and muscle through charred skin, he bellowed for anyone to hear: “HAH, HAH, HAH! BLACK, BLACK BLACK! REAL BLACK!! BLACK AS A BROILED! NIGGO, NIGGO, LEGGO MY EGGO! NO EYES! NO EYES! FIND MY WAY BACK TO THE TUB! RUB-A-DUB-DUB! HAH REAL BLACK!”