Will said, “And as of … now, the device is armed for sound activation. You pull that trigger, soon the news will be recapping a spectacular tragedy over a montage of our last-known photos.”
It looked to Zoey like the Viking was, in fact, considering it.
His accomplice, still standing upright with Wu’s arm around his neck from behind, said, “They’re tellin’ the truth, man. I tried to tell you, that’s why I brought the Thor club instead.”
Will said, “Wu, let him go, get in the semi.” To the Viking, he said, “Since I assume you stole this, I also assume you won’t mind if we take it home.”
Wu tossed the Viking’s partner aside and pulled himself into the tanker truck. Zoey thought it was odd that they were going to escape in the most flammable mobile object in the city, but maybe that was Will’s plan. A sort of mutually assured destruction.
Will looked toward Zoey and nodded to the truck. She took the long way around the back of the wrecked van to avoid the Viking’s partner and climbed into the cab of the semi next to Wu. The cab smelled like old sweat and cigarettes. Will picked up the cooker device and followed, squeezing in next to Zoey. The Viking made no move to stop them.
Will said, “Go.”
Wu had to back up, then turn slightly to scoot the toppled van out of the way. The lane ahead was clear of traffic, since by now they’d been blocking everything behind them for several minutes, and this time the human shields let them pass. Zoey nervously studied the monitor on the dash that displayed their surroundings, watching the Viking shrink into the distance. They got a block away. Two. The truck was as fast as a very stubborn mule that had died and was now being carried up a hill by a swarm of ants.
Will said, “I messaged Carlton to dispatch the sedan, with drone cover. We’re creating a secure vehicle switch location at—”
Wu said, “What is that?”
In the sky ahead was what looked like a giant white bird, diving directly toward them.
“Is it a plane?”
They didn’t need any special sensors to find out. A monitor on the semi’s dash was already tuned in to Blink coverage of the event (currently trending as “ASHE ARMORED VAN REK’D BY REDD GUNN—#COWFESSION!”). The star of the feed at the moment was a man in a flying apparatus with gleaming white fold-out wings and twin jets of blue fire pulsing from the back, swooping down from the sky, Zoey’s rumbling tanker truck ahead. According to the feed, this guy was named the Human Tank, which was presumably a name he’d picked before he’d bought the wings.
Zoey breathed, “What do we do, what do we do?”
Will said, “Keep driving, and pray that he’s not carrying an explosive to do a suicide run.”
Wu stepped on the accelerator. They rolled along, passing sidewalks full of bystanders who now had turned their eyes skyward, anticipating the conflict, as usual grossly underestimating what constituted a safe distance.
Will turned his attention back to the rearview monitor and said, “He’s following us.”
On the screen, the Viking—who according to the feed was named, sigh, Redd Gunn—had commandeered a motorcycle and was gaining on them fast.
From the front, the Human Tank drew lower and closer. He tilted his wings back to decelerate and the blue jets shifted as he began his descent, apparently intending to land right in front of the semi. The wings, which weren’t only white but were glowing, as if to appear angelic, were as wide as the entire street. The pilot was draped in white cloth and gold belts, topped by a platinum wig. Was this his Halloween costume? His superhero branding? His everyday dress? Zoey had only a few seconds to speculate before he quickly descended to the street in front of them.
Too quickly.
As far as Zoey could tell, the flying apparatus was supposed to have used its thrusters to gently lower its pilot to a spot just above the pavement. But if so, the mechanism failed, as bootleg Raiden technology frequently did. As such, the Human Tank landed hard in front of them and Zoey was sure she could hear both of the man’s legs break with an audible snap when they hit the pavement.
He collapsed, screaming. A glowing, golden sword he’d been carrying clattered to the pavement.
To be fair to Wu, he did try to stop. But the most advanced brakes in the world still have to adhere to the laws of physics and they were currently towing several tons of liquid cargo. Wu braked and cranked the wheel, the tanker behind them jackknifing around behind them. None of it was enough to save the Human Tank. Their wheels ran right over the guy and his stupid wings, all of it crunching and tangling under them.
Both front tires popped. Wu stayed on the accelerator, but they were now dragging the equivalent of a light aircraft across the pavement beneath them, rolling up a mangled corpse in the wreckage. The semi skidded to a stop, the gleaming cylinder skidding around and banging into a utility pole on the sidewalk.
Zoey expected an explosion. None came. She let out a breath.
Will said, “Get out!”
The moment Zoey opened the door, she heard more tires squealing. The Viking Redd Gunn had apparently been going full speed on his motorcycle when the tanker truck had stopped abruptly in front of him, the trailer now angled to block the road entirely. The guy tried to brake, then the wheels wobbled under him until the bike tumbled over and skidded away, the man himself rolling to a stop under the trailer.
Zoey jumped out of the cab. There were a few seconds of peace, during which she still expected the tanker to randomly choose that moment to explode and engulf all she surveyed. Then she glanced to her right and saw the tanker had come to a stop right in front of a sign that said BUDDING MINDS DAY CARE.
Redd Gunn was still lying under the tanker, moaning.
Zoey yelled to him, “You’re going to feel incredibly dumb once you realize I’m not guilty of anything. Stay there and we’ll get you an ambulance. You lost this one.”
Once again, Zoey had stumbled across the exact wrong thing to say. Redd growled, rolled over, and looked around for his gun. He found it. From a prone position under the tanker, he aimed at Zoey. And then many things happened at once.
She screamed for him to stop.
Redd squeezed the trigger.
Zoey saw an orange flash. She felt a puff of air caress her temple.
Then the cooker activated from inside the cab of the truck. There was a blue flash and a fleeting wave of static in the air that made the hair on Zoey’s arms stand on end. And then, fireworks.
A rattle of explosions, little bursts of flame up and down Redd’s body, bullets from his draped belts firing and puncturing him from every angle. Above him, sparks erupted as one shot after the other impacted the tanker truck.
Zoey was being tackled, Wu throwing her to the ground and getting on top of her, rolling to get his body between her and the dozens of detonating cartridges Redd Gunn had strapped to his person.
Screams and chaos from all around. Zoey wanted up, to run, to get away from the fireball she knew was coming. She could see the day care from the ground, saw little curious faces pressed to the window and a frantic elderly woman screaming at them to get away.
The last bullet went off.
There was silence.
Then, trickling liquid.
Zoey risked a look over. The tanker was leaking from a dozen holes, drenching the corpse of Redd Gunn, pooling around the wrecked motorcycle nearby. A pale, milky liquid, swirling and mixing with the blood on the pavement.