Dead Waters - Anton Strout [103]
“On behalf of this theater’s management,” Connor said with some volume behind it, “you’re under arrest. . . mostly for being dicks and attacking us the other day.”
“Shit,” I heard Elyse hiss out. The three students jumped up out of their seats, but Connor grabbed Elyse with both hands. Mike climbed over the seat in front of him. It was like watching a blubbery baby trying to escape its crib and would have been comical if not for the fact that he actually was getting away. Darryl turned toward Connor and swung for him, bringing his arm down across both of Connor’s. His grip on Elyse broke and the girl pulled away, crouching forward.
Using the agility I had witnessed during her last escape, she pressed herself into a handstand on the seat in front of her, knocking Connor back over the seat behind him as her legs swung up.
“Stay here, Trent,” I said. I stood and pulled out my bat, extending it. “Try not to get stabbed this time.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said. The young student looked stunned by the chaos erupting all around him and stayed in his seat.
I ran down our row after Jane until I hit the aisle, then started down toward the fight in front of me.
Mike had made his way to the front of the theater now, gracelessly but effectively. Elyse continued walking on her hands along the tops of the seats after him. She flipped off the last one when she hit the front row and stuck her landing like a pro before running to join Mike. I ran after her as Darryl ran down his row toward the aisle leading up to the coffeehouse.
“Heavy Mike,” Darryl shouted. “Memory card. . . now!”
Several agents were trying to subdue Elyse and Mike, but they were pulling their punches since they were dealing with humans for once. Elyse was a scrapper and gave them as good as she got, her gymnastic flourishes holding them, along with a knife she now held in her hand. Mike was doing his best to push off any of the attackers who got past her, all while holding his camera over his head and out of reach. He popped open a slot on the back of it, pulled the memory card free, and flung it across the theater, aiming high. Darryl, tall as he was, had no trouble plucking it from its trajectory while he reached down with his other hand into his front pocket. He fumbled out his smartphone. The glow of its display along with the film playing gave him enough light to slot the card. He slammed it into his phone and held it straight out in front of him while he backed up the aisle.
Several short movie clips flashed onto the phone’s screen—scenes of Central Park and several different shots of subway stations. With each bit of film, the screen gave an audible pop and crackle, producing a steady stream of creatures into our world. Birds from the park and shots of rats on the subway tracks. The aisle started to fill with them, adding to the chaos all around us.
“That works,” Darryl said, examining his work, “but I meant the other card.”
“I already gave it to you!” Mike shouted.
“Oh, right,” Darryl said with an embarrassed shrug. He popped his memory card out of the phone while he fished around in his pocket for the other one. It came out in his hand and he slammed it in the phone. Darryl pressed on the keypad, then, backing away, held the phone out in front of him. I stepped back, waiting for whatever monstrosity they threw at me next.
Nothing happened.
“Crap,” Darryl said. He reversed direction, heading back down the aisle and making his way over toward Elyse and Mike at the front of the theater. “Elyse! We’re out of juice!”
Elyse looked panicked and her face sank, but only for a moment. She adjusted her grip on the knife in her hand before swinging it around in a wide arc.
It stabbed into the wall of the theater, but not before passing through Heavy Mike’s hand, pinning it there. His video camera tumbled to the floor of the theater and shattered to pieces as a howl of pain erupted from Mike. “Elyse!” he shouted in a mix of surprise,