James Axler – Rat King

bulk, was still failing to cut out the chilled air. Her Smith & Wesson Model

640.38 was with her, but there was no ammunition. And a blaster without ammo was

as useless as a man with no dick in a gaudy house free-for-all.

The crescent moon cast little light, but there was enough to shine off the

silver-winged falcons and points on her boots, and to catch her misted breath in

the air. It was enough to cast shadows across the copse, where she sat on the

rotted stump of a felled tree, and into the forest beyond. The forest rustled

with barely concealed danger.

It briefly occurred to her that the danger came not from there but from

something else. There was no reason why she should be alone and unarmed. There

was no recollection of arriving here. None of it added up.

It flashed through her mind that the real danger was whatever was making her

think she was at this place.

“NOW, THAT’S an interesting reaction,” Dr. Tricks mused.

“In what way?” Murphy asked, using it as an excuse to move closer to her as he

looked over her shoulder.

“You see these lines here?” she continued, ignoring his heavy-breathing presence

and indicating a sudden flattening of the signal on the monitor. “It means a

decrease of tension and adrenaline.”

“So?”

“So, the clever little mutie is onto us. She may be as hard to crack as the

albino.”

Murphy smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “You see, you R&D personnel always

put too much trust in science. Brute force and ignorance is what wins battles.

Always has been.”

“We’ll see.”

KRYSTY KEPT HERSELF ALERT, despite the sudden doubts that sprang through her

mind about the veracity of her senses.

To her left, just out of her range of vision, she heard an increase in rustling

and spun to meet it.

“You?”

“Yes, me.” Uncle Tyas McCann stepped into the sparse light of the moon. He

looked just as he had when she had last seen him. How long ago was that now?

“Too long,” he said, seeming to sense her thoughts, before breaking into a

throaty chuckle.

Krysty’s hair coiled even tighter, straining against the muscles of her neck. It

was a little like him, sure, but there was something here that just didn’t make

sense. He was dead, and this—apparition, for want of another word—wasn’t that

much like him at all in the faint light.

“That’s very perceptive of you,” he replied to her thoughts. “You always were

too damn smart, Krysty. Just like Sonja.”

Tyas McCann never mentioned Sonja, either. Krysty’s mother—perhaps dead, perhaps

not—had always been a topic he would avoid.

Krysty stood, feeling the cold air invade her as the movement drove the scant

warmth from under her coat. She shivered, and not just from the cold.

“That’s right. You should be very afraid, because this is a scenario that you

can’t control or defeat. You know your mind is being manipulated, and I’m here

because I’m what you fear most of all.”

“I never feared Uncle Tyas,” Krysty replied, trying to keep a tremor of cold and

fear from her voice.

“True. But then again, wouldn’t that be your worst nightmare? For me to suddenly

turn against you, to attack you? How would you react? Would you try to defeat me

in order to save yourself?”

“Are you going to try to find out?”

He smiled. “You know the answer to that.”

Krysty nodded, as much to herself as to the thing that called itself Tyas

McCann. If what she suspected was true, then he couldn’t harm her.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

“Try me.”

Tyas smiled. It was harsh and evil, not at all like the man she remembered,

which would make sense. If this was her nightmare, then he would be the opposite

of the loving father figure she had once known.

Krysty stood perfectly still as he advanced upon her. If she was right, then

nothing could really happen to her.

She closed her eyes and waited for the moment to come. With a roar of anger,

Tyas McCann reached out and grasped her left arm. He wrenched and pulled with a