Part 17 (2/2)

James asked, ”You stopped feeling around. What is it?”

”A steel b.u.mp.” Saying this, Brock s.h.i.+ed from the thought of delving the drill bit into his back. ”What if I hurt you, James?”

”Soon enough, I'll be dead by something one way or another, and if this works, that means you save your favorite lady and your sister too. It's worth it to me to see some good come out of this situation. The people I love are dead.”

”Angel's still out there,” Brock said, once again feeling bad he had to leave her body outside. ”I hope she's okay. Maybe I should go get her.”

”Don't waste anymore time. I have a feeling we don't have much time until the next thing happens out there.”

The voices on the air continued, though they were everywhere, circulating from the sky and resounding from the ground and mixing together.

Brock took a deep breath and placed the drill bit on James's shoulder blade. He fidgeted the end so it matched the bolt. The tip finally sunk into the skin a few centimeters, locking in. James placed his arms on each side of the wall. ”Okay,” he said, gathering courage. ”Just do it. I asked for it.”

”Be careful.” Hannah was so close to Brock now.

”Brace yourself.” Brock focused harder to keep his wrist and arm steady. ”Here goes.”

He pressed the trigger.

Hannah closed her eyes and turned her head.

James screeched in pain. ”Faaaawwck!”

The drill bit carved a circle of skin. Blood flicked up from the shoulder blade. The crunching of bone, the screw underneath was gradually lifting out. The skin around the screw was expanding with the look of taught canvas about to break.

”Hurry, Brock,” Hannah demanded, unable to take the jarring noise of the drill. ”He's bleeding all over. You're hurting him.”

”Steady hands win the day,” Brock a.s.sured her. ”Steady hands.”

The bolt came undone with a pop of a cap gun. The screw was four inches long. Brock held it in his hands and showed it to James. ”Wow. That was inside of you.”

”Whatever else is inside of me, I want it out of me. Keep doing what you're doing.”

Brock scanned James's other shoulder blade, and pinpointing the location of another screw, he placed the bit against the screw head beneath the skin. When Brock started the drill, a cold hand seized his neck and spiked him to the ground.

UNDER ATTACK.

”Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” James's howled, then his screeches abruptly ended. Hannah's terrified, blood-curdling peals of terror followed Brock to the ground as he was pelted by sheets of blood. An arm, a leg, a head, a torso, every appendage from James's body smacked into Brock. The man's extremities were spring-ejected from James's body, the stumps made of sprung steel coils. Out James's back, a black box was ejected. The top opened up like a wall safe and coins jangled free onto the floor. The money was drawn up the stairs, sailing in the air and then fired right through the ceiling.

”Brock! Watch out, watch out, watch out!” Hannah kept warning him, her body bent against the far end of the wall terrified. ”Don't let the coins. .h.i.t you!”

Brock was replaying James's dismantling again in his mind. He realized whatever had grabbed him from behind had caused the screw to s.h.i.+ft the wrong way. The mechanical system in James's body reacted accordingly and dismantled the man.

What was worse was who had tossed him to the ground.

Angel.

Her eyes were catatonic and empty of thought and function. The way she moved was like a living puppet. She was compelled by another master.

”Why are you doing this?” Hannah demanded Angel. She helped Brock to his feet as they both cowered to the opposite end of the room away from the enemy. ”Stay away from us.”

Before Hannah could completely guide him to the door in the hallway, Brock reclaimed the power drill. ”Angel, it's us. Don't you remember me? I'm your brother.”

Brock pointed at her hair, hands, and clothes in horror. Black oil stained them. The colors of death had seeped into her skin. It stained her lips and eyes. ”It's like Chuck said earlier. The dead were controlling him, and now they're controlling Angel.”

They backed into the other door in the bas.e.m.e.nt that didn't lead upstairs. Brock urged Hannah inside and then threw it shut. Brock locked it behind him. ”I have to remove the box out of your back.”

”But you saw what happened to James.”

”Yes, I know, but it only failed because I was disturbed. The screws can't be jostled as they're coming out. You said you've seen Chuck at work, and that's what happened when he screws up. The people's body parts fall to pieces.”

”But you don't know what you're doing. How do you know any of that is right?”

Before Brock could argue his point, out from Hannah's shoulder blade shot out a dime. It fired straight out across the room, nearly hitting Brock dead on. It burst through the ceiling, suddenly heading to its own destination.

The pain staggered Hannah to the floor. Brock bent down and lifted up her s.h.i.+rt. ”We don't have a choice. We have to get this box out of you, or those coins are coming out of you like bullets.”

Hannah griped in pain, mincing curses under her breath. ”f.u.c.king do it then.”

Brock traced his hands along her shoulder blade and located the bolt. Gearing up to remove it, the door was split by a golden axe from the other side. The axe head gleamed momentarily before it was jerked back and disappeared back to the other side. Hannah wouldn't stay still, so Brock whispered to her, ”I love you. You have to stay calm. I'm not leaving you here. I will get you out of here alive. Just hang on.”

The words lightened her distress, though Hannah was still s.h.i.+vering in fear. Antic.i.p.ation had its way with her body. She exploded in a fit of curses when a quarter shot out of the sole of her shoe, the coin levitating, then spinning from side-to-side, before it fired up into the ceiling.

Brock pinned his free hand on her back, centering Hannah. He began to work, doing his best to block out his lover's screams. Splitting skin and sc.r.a.ping bone, the first bolt was edging upwards.

The axe struck again, claiming a narrow triangle of wood from the door that was slowly turning into cheap cardstock against the force of the tool.

Blood spilling down her back, the bolt came loose and tinged against the floor, rolling into the heaping pile of corpse pieces spread all across the room.

Brock located the other bolt.

Three more strikes, the axe broke a square-panel. Brock could see Angel's vacant face at work in his peripheral vision. Both her hands were raising the axe to plunder the door into smithereens.

”Braaaaaaaaaaaawck!” Angel howled when a quarter shot out of her forearm and her hamstring simultaneously. ”Hurry before another coin shoots out of me!”

Hannah was squirming, abating her pain so much so that Brock was having difficulty keeping the drill bit straight.

”You can't fidget. I know it hurts. You have to hold still.”

”You don't know s.h.i.+t. You don't have this box inside of you! You're not bleeding!”

”Okay, I don't know s.h.i.+t. Fair enough. Now stay still.”

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