Crucible of Fire Page 9

  And Matt had taken the bait.

  But this was no ordinary fire. The flames seemed to stoke the embers of evil within people, like an amped-up version of Mr. Dark’s touch, until their souls were immolated by the raging hate.

  Swinging around, Matt looked at Angie, intending to tell her they had to go back the way they came. But she’d already abandoned the four-wheeler and was running to a figure on the ground.

  In the light of the blazing hell bearing down on them, Matt recognized Ernie Lombard lying silent and still. Beside him, Matt barely recognized the charred remains of Cletus Brewman. The old man looked like he’d been flambéed and shunted through a Cuisinart.

  Big Mort and Timmons raced for Angie.

  “Get him, Ranger Freddy!” Mr. Dark roared. He quaked with anticipation, waving his arms like a cheerleader.

  Knowing he couldn’t leave Angie there, Matt climbed off the four-wheeler and slid his ax free. He stepped to the side, watching the silver-suited figure, hoping he was fast enough to dodge when the time came.

  The wand in the silver-suited man’s hand belched flames, and Matt threw himself sideways behind a thick tree. The fire blasted the tree and baked into the bark. Heat coiled around Matt but he wasn’t harmed.

  He swung around the tree and headed for Angie, angling in on Big Mort and Timmons. The two men saw him coming and turned abruptly as they pulled the chainsaw cords in unison. The blades roared to life, and warm blood spattered over Matt’s face.

  Dropping to the ground, Matt slid under the chainsaws as the men lunged. On the other side of them, Matt scrambled to his feet as they tried to turn around. He set himself, hefted the ax, and swung, driving the blade into Timmons’ right knee.

  The blade sliced through most of the joint and the force shattered the rest of it. Timmons collapsed with a pain-filled shriek, shards of bone jutting out from his amputated leg.

  “You’re gonna be sorry you done that!” Big Mort yelled. He stepped across Timmons and led the charge of lesion-covered men and women after him.

  A short distance away, Angie hunkered down, hovering protectively over her father.

  Matt dodged and struck where he could, falling back into the forest, leading the kill-crazy pack away from the Lombards. He ducked back behind a thick copse of brush just as the silver-suited figure unleashed another spew of fire.

  13

  The brush went up in flames immediately and the heat washed over Matt. A woman got in Big Mort’s way and he savagely cut her down with the chainsaw, leaving pieces of her in his wake as he howled for Matt’s blood.

  The crowd split as they came around the burning bushes. Matt dodged away from Big Mort, picking up the ax and holding it crossways in front of him. He rammed it into three men bearing down on him, knocking them backward savagely. Teeth flew. An arm broke. Features dissolved into a bloody mess.

  On the other side of the line now, Matt whirled around and brought the ax down to crunch through the head of a woman stabbing at him with meat forks. She went down in a heap, tripping the man behind her. Swinging again, Matt split the man’s head before he could get up, then shoved the bloody axhead against the chest of another man carrying a briefcase as Big Mort came around the brush.

  The businessman stumbled into Big Mort and caught the chainsaw in the back. The spinning blade chewed through him and punched through his chest. Big Mort cursed as he tried to rip the corpse from his weapon.

  Catching a glimpse of the silver-suited figure in the corner of his eye, Matt threw himself to the side again just ahead of another roiling blast of fire. He rolled on one shoulder and came up again, watching as the flames caught three of the lesion-covered attackers full on.

  The three people came to a halt wreathed in flames. They howled in pain and anger, driving the other five people around them back. The fiery figures managed only a few steps before collapsing. Big Mort yelled and charged again.

  Matt spun behind another tree, retreating farther from Angie and her family, hating the distance, trying desperately not to think about what Mr. Dark might be doing to them. He spun and went to the side, racing behind a low shelf of rock, hoping that he could escape his pursuers just for an instant and double back.

  Then the chainsaw roar came straight at him. In disbelief, Matt turned and watched as Big Mort leapt from the rock shelf to land almost on top of Matt. Scrambling, Matt dodged away. His foot slipped on the leafy mulch and he went down.

  Big Mort howled with glee and spun on Matt, aiming for his legs. Matt barely managed to slide them away, having to let go of the ax to maneuver with his hands. The chainsaw blade ripped into the earth and threw dirt up into Big Mort’s face.

  Matt tried to reach for the ax, but a man with a golf club swung at him. The glancing blow on Matt’s left shoulder hurt but didn’t immobilize him. He rose to his feet and stepped into the man, overpowering him with sheer size and strength as he pulled the golf club back to swing again.

  Matt yanked the putter from the man’s hands, stepped back, and swung it like a baseball bat. The putter smashed into the man’s forehead, caving in his skull and squirting brain matter from his ears. The putter broke, leaving Matt with a two-and-a-half-foot metal shank.

  As the golfer dropped without a sound, a policeman stepped over him swinging a PR-24 baton. Matt squatted beneath the blow, then stabbed upward with the broken golf club. The shaft plunged through the man’s neck, slid up into his brain, and stuck. Matt tried to pull the shaft free, but all he succeeded in doing was breaking the dead policeman’s neck.

  Letting go of the golf club, Matt took stock of the three remaining attackers. There was another policeman and two fire fighters.

  And Big Mort.

  Matt wanted his ax, but there was no chance to go for it as the policeman pointed his sidearm and opened fire. Matt dove, but not before one of the bullets hit him in the side and another slammed into his leg. Blood flowed from both wounds. The pain was intense.

  He crashed through the brush, grateful that he hadn’t removed the helmet, because his face would have gotten torn up and he might have lost an eye as he ran. Branches stabbed him in the face shield, jarred his head, but slid away.

  Big Mort and the chainsaw howled behind him. Two more bullets tore through the air, one of them clipping a branch from the tree in front of him. He turned behind a copse of trees and headed back the way he’d come, running along the top of a hill above where he’d been.

  The cop spotted him and lifted his weapon. “There he is!”

  Matt stayed low, feeling the blood pumping out of him and fighting to stay conscious, hoping that the speedy healing he’d gained from his “death” would kick in and save him; otherwise, he was going to bleed out. But he was grateful for the pain—it was keeping him awake. And pissed off.

  Three bullets whipped through the air above Matt’s head.

  The policeman stood below him and started reloading his pistol, slipping the empty magazine out. The two fire fighters had started back along the way they had come. Big Mort was charging up the hill behind Matt.

  Matt flung himself down the hill at the policeman, stepping off and driving both feet into him. The man bounced off a tree behind him and went down. Breathing raggedly, feeling like his lungs were suddenly too small, Matt searched the ground and found a large rock. He hefted it in both hands and brought it down on the policeman’s head, crushing his skull to bloody ruin.

  Grabbing the pistol, Matt yanked it from the dead man’s hand and hurled it out into the darkness. Big Mort crested the hill and raced the chainsaw’s engine as he ran down the hillside.

  Matt ran, half limping, but gaining on the two fire fighters. They turned when they saw him coming and tried to set themselves. Ducking into a half crouch, Matt chose the one whose feet were still moving and planted his right shoulder in the man’s midriff, knocking him back and sideways into his partner.

  One of them caught Matt’s foot, hobbled him for just a moment, and cost him two strides, allowing Big Mor
t to get closer. Winded, hurting, and bleeding, Matt ran for the last place he’d seen his ax. Just as he bent to get it, Big Mort was on him.

  As Big Mort swung the chainsaw down, the silver-suited figure stepped out of the woods. Matt yanked the ax away and rolled as the chainsaw blade dug into a tree root just below the ground surface.

  “Get back!” the silver-suited figure yelled.

  “He’s mine!” Big Mort screamed, and raised the chainsaw again.

  Unable to run without Big Mort getting to him first, Matt stood his ground and shoved the axhead forward. The chainsaw struck sparks from the blade, but Matt knew the chain couldn’t damage the metal. He shoved—hard—driving the chainsaw back into Big Mort’s face. The teeth shredded Big Mort’s nose, then ate into his skull and chewed through his brain.

  Gore splattered Matt just as he caught sight of the fire blast blossoming behind Big Mort. He ran to the side as the flames wrapped Big Mort, then followed the dead man to the ground.

  The two fire fighters plowed through the brush and came at Matt. He set himself, met one of them with the ax handle in a short stroke that dropped him to his knees, then stepped back and decapitated the other fire fighter with a sideways stroke. Before the other fire fighter could get up, Matt split his skull.

  “It’s time to give up, mister.” The voice coming from the silver-suited figure sounded young.

  Sheltering behind a thick tree, feeling the blood pumping from his wounds, trying not to pass out, Matt sucked in air.

  “If you don’t come out, I’m gonna burn this woman.”

  Angie screamed in pain.

  Warily, Matt stepped out from behind the tree and stared at the silver-suited figure. Twenty feet away, the guy held Angie in front of him, one hand knotted in her hair.

  Behind the figure, Mr. Dark stood waiting with a gleeful smile. “I believe Ranger Freddy has got you covered, Matt.”

  “Freddy.” Matt spoke the name without meaning to.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “The clown told me.”

  “You know Ranger Faron Hight?”

  Matt glanced at Dark, who smiled with amusement at his own joke, then looked back at Freddy. “Yeah, I know him. He’s not a nice guy.”

  “He’s nice enough to me. Made me a ranger.” Freddy tapped his chest, where a badge gleamed. From the distance and the uncertain light, Matt couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  Angie stared wide-eyed at Matt.

  Matt shook his head. “He’s just going to get you killed.”

  Freddy lifted the wand. “Not me. I’m gonna roast your chestnuts, lumberjack. Then I’m gonna go burn the high school. Gonna burn a lot of stuff.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No, I get to do that. Looking forward to it, too.”

  Mr. Dark grinned bigger. “You’re not gonna sweet-talk this kid, Matt. Way too far gone. Fire is what he lives for. I just provided some encouragement and hoped you’d come to save the day.”

  “You knew I would.” Matt studied the silver suit and hefted the ax. He doubted he could get the ax through the suit even if he hit it right. The suit looked too thick. Then he spotted the hose attached to the wand in Freddy’s hand. Even if he didn’t cut the hose, he might be able to rip it free. Maybe the flamethrower wouldn’t work then.

  “The party is just getting started,” Mr. Dark said. “Once you’re gone, everybody else dies. Good times ahead.”

  Matt stepped forward and whipped the ax in an overhand throw, sending it spinning from his hand as he dove face-first to the ground and rolled to the side. The flames sprayed by him and splashed against the ground where he’d been.

  Freddy stepped away as Matt had expected him to. He released Angie, though, and she sprinted away, turning to watch what was going to happen.

  Matt stood slowly as Freddy held the wand up in front of him. He reached into one of the cargo pockets of the protective pants and took out the flare gun.

  The guy laughed and sounded really young, which made Matt feel even worse, because he knew what he was going to have to do.

  “You’re kidding, right? You think you’re Wyatt Earp or something? With a flare gun? I got news for you, brainiac: That flare gun ain’t gonna do nothing to me as long as I’m in this suit.”

  Without a word, Matt took aim with the pistol and fired. The ax had severed the hose connecting the fuel tank to the fire thrower. Fuel dripped down the guy’s leg. Squeezing the trigger, Matt watched the flare spurt from the pistol’s blunt muzzle.

  The flare smashed into the flamethrower guy’s leg and clung there, burning a bright green.

  The silver-suited guy danced a macabre jig and pumped his free fist into the air. “Ha! I told you, you dumb—”

  The emerald green flare suddenly caught fire. The flames quickly spread along the flamethrower guy’s leg, burning strong and sure, lapping up around his chin and turning the protective helmet’s face shield a bright, malevolent green.

  “Hey! Hey! Help! Help! I’m on fire! I’m burning up!” The guy began dancing around. “Ranger Hight, Ranger Hight!”

  Matt ducked from behind the tree and closed on the flamethrower guy. When he reached him, Matt kicked him in the chest, knocking him off his feet. He looked like a slow comet pinwheeling over the ground.

  The flamethrower guy squealed in pain as he pushed himself up and beat at the flames. “Ranger Hight! Ranger Hight!”

  A few feet away, Mr. Dark shook his head sadly. “Really thought you’d be the one to stop ol’ Matt here. Too bad. I was warming up to you.”

  Searching the ground behind his opponent, Matt found the ax and watched as the flamethrower guy spun in panicked circles and finally toppled over and lay still.

  “Well, Matt, this was fun.” Mr. Dark grinned as he looked up at the wildfire. “I do love a lively bonfire. There’s nothing like the smell of burned flesh over an open flame.” He gazed at Matt. “I’ll see you again soon. But you know that.”

  Mr. Dark unwrapped a lollipop, shoved it into his mouth, and strolled into the woods.

  Matt walked over to the silver-suited figure and knelt. Using a glove, he shoved the faceplate back and studied the young man’s burned face. He wasn’t anyone Matt knew. Usually it was better that way.

  He glanced at the badge on the silver suit and tried to peel it from the material, thinking he could have it analyzed somewhere. Instead, as soon as he touched it, the badge turned to golden ash and blew away.

  “Matt,” Angie called. “My dad needs help.”

  Matt stood, took a firmer grip on his ax, and went back to help the living, hoping that the present nightmare was over. He was never sure about that, either.

  14

  “I hear you saved us.” Harvey Lombard looked up at Matt from the EMT gurney. Harvey was scorched in some places, burned in others, and had a big collection of bumps and scrapes as well as a sizable lump on the side of his head that might be an indication of a skull fracture, but the rot and lesions were gone.

  Matt shook his head. “Not me. The EMTs were the ones that humped you out of the forest.”

  They were back at the triage now, and all of the family were being treated for different injuries. Scott Lombard slept in a gurney a few feet away, but—like his big brother—he was free of rot as well.

  “Well, Angie says the only reason the EMTs were there was because you signaled them.”

  Matt nodded.

  Harvey worked his jaw and touched his head. “That was something, wasn’t it? All that fire?”

  Judging from what Harvey had said, he didn’t remember what had happened to him. He also didn’t know how Matt had found them or what had passed between them that had caused them to fight.

  “It was,” Matt said. “But the incident commander says they’ve gotten control of the fire now. The forest may burn for a few more hours and a lot of trees will be lost, but it won’t spread.”

  “That’s a good thing.” Harvey grinned. “I heard Dad i
s already negotiating with the city to get a piece of the logging cleanup that’s going to need to be done.”

  “He is.”

  Ernie Lombard had suffered a mild heart attack but was rapidly regaining his strength. Despite the EMT’s protests, and in the face of Angie’s anger, Ernie was talking on a cell phone, waking up people in city and park management, wheeling and dealing.

  Harvey was quiet for a moment. “I got myself jammed up, Matt. The casino again. I’m gonna have to ask my dad to help me out again.”

  “So ask.”

  “I’m afraid,” Harvey mumbled. “I keep thinking he’s going to get rid of me this time, or I’m going to break the company, leave us with nothing.”

  “The worst thing you can do is give in to your fears. Once you do, getting back on top of them is hard work. Your father will help you. That’s the kind of man he is.”

  Harvey nodded.

  “But maybe this time something else needs to change.”

  “I need to be the man he’s wanted me to be.” Harvey took a deep breath and let it out. He looked at Matt. “I’m not going to ask him. I’m going to work things out myself. Don’t know how Bodeen will feel about that, but whatever he does isn’t going to be as bad as being out there in that fire. Nothing will ever be that bad.”

  Matt nodded.

  The EMTs returned and the woman addressed Harvey. “Okay, Mr. Lombard. Time to go. ER’s waiting to have a look at your head.”

  “Sure.” Harvey extended his hand to Matt and shook it. “Thanks for being there.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  As the EMTs carted Harvey away, Angie walked over to join him. “Looks like everybody’s going to be okay,” she said.

  “Did they find Jimmy and Gary Baker?” Those two had been among the missing.

  “Yeah. Gary turned up an hour ago near where the rescue workers found us. Jimmy wandered out of the forest a few minutes ago. He was stoned out of his head on mushrooms or something he found in the forest. He was muttering something about astronauts and gorgons.”