Becoming Chaos

IV - Ebbing Tides Part 2

The sound that ensued was like nothing I’ve ever heard.

The wolf’s growls and barks resonated through the dreary apartment halls. Ugly snapping noises came from the monster’s throat as it bared its teeth and probably attempted to bite Michael. The old wooden floorboards creaked and whined under the weight of battle. I was running down the stairs, focused on getting as far away as possible. My heart pounded in my chest like a war song, and my knees shook like unstable columns, ready to collapse at any time.

Michael’s loud yelling pierced the din. He was cursing like there was no tomorrow. A loud clang came from upstairs, probably from the fire exit as another one of the beasts landed on the metal ladder. There were five freaking pairs of footsteps on the roof, the thought lingered on my mind. I stopped on the last step of the stair connecting the fourth and fifth floors. Looking behind me, I saw Michael fend off two wolves at the same time with his bare hands. The light from the feather vanished, plunging the corridor into a faint darkness. The new wolf that appeared was bigger and more sinister-looking. Its coat was black and was almost invisible without the light from Michael’s golden feather.

Angel boy cursed again as he caught at the bigger wolf’s muzzle, shutting it close. The black wolf whimpered, but it fought on, claws reaching. Michael’s other hand was on the neck of the smaller, gray wolf. He was trying to choke it as he lifted the werewolf in the air. I stood there, frozen like a popsicle, mouth open. My eyes widened as the mass of muscles, fur, claws and ivory white teeth thrashed and reached for Michael. Real, freaking werewolves, I thought as I fought away the mental images of Scooby Doo with rabies.

Shaking my head, I stared in horrified fascination as man and beasts fought in front of my eyes. It was like a horror movie, except that no one was acting. Michael grunted, but I saw him smile as he threw the smaller wolf to the other end of the hall. A sickening c***k and a faint whimper resounded as it struck something. I did not know what it was because I couldn’t see from where I stood. With one hand free, Michael gut-punched the black wolf. The horse-sized dog yelped over and over as Michael sent quick jabs to its stomach in rapid succession. As the wolf’s whimpering stopped, Michael let go of its muzzle. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. Michael turned his eyes on me. They were golden and shining. He was about to open his mouth when rattling noises resounded from the fire exit. Michael ventured his eyes to the open door.

I followed his line of sight. There were more. Not wolves, but men. Three brutish and broad-shouldered men all dressed in fitted shirts and tight black leather walked into the hall.

“Soul Dealer,” one of the muscular guys hissed. He was bald and had a deep voice. He had a thick accent that I couldn’t quite place. “Stay out of this.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Michael remarked. “I just wanted to play fetch.”

A collective growl echoed. “We have no business with you,” said the bald guy. “We just want the girl. Give her to us and we will let you live. You do not stand a chance against us.”

Michael scoffed. “Your friends are lying in motionless heaps over here,” he kicked at the wolf at his feet. “And there,” he pointed behind him. “Can’t you see?”

“And for that you will pay, cyka blyat.”

Bald guy was Russian. I stared as his face turned and contorted just like Vladimir’s did. He only shifted in partial; his mouth elongated into a muzzle and his eyes turned luminous yellow. For a moment, I thought he will lunge at Michael, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew his head back and howled a long, piercing ululation.

Venturing my gaze to Michael, I saw alarm flash across his face for the briefest of moments. He picked up the motionless wolf on the floor and threw it to the trio in front of him. Like it weighed nothing! Baldy stopped howling as he and the others were struck by a big mass of fur and muscles. They toppled down like bowling pins. He looked at me and shouted, “Run, Summers!”

His urgent shouting thawed my frozen muscles. I stepped back as Michael jumped ten flights of stairs from the fifth level to the fourth. His boots thudded against the wooden boards. “There’s more of them coming! Run!” He grabbed at my arm and dragged me with him.

The muscles on my shoulder stretched and tore as he pulled me down the stairs with no regard. Screaming senseless screams, I ran without thought down the stairs and I barely noticed that we were already at the threshold of the door leading to the street. For a moment, I was just glad that there was no one home as I did not know how I would explain the massive dogs to my landlord. We stepped out of the apartment and into the pavement. Michael freed my wrist as he hopped on his motorcycle. “Helmets!” he barked.

We’re being chased by monsters in broad daylight and he’s worried about traffic rules, I thought but obliged nonetheless. Taking the helmets from the compartment, I tossed him his. I strapped mine over my head and hopped on behind him, my heart rattling with every move. He turned the keys. The engine started and we sped out of Glenmore Avenue into the New York traffic. He jerked the throttle in full which sent me pressing my back against the compartment box.

“Why are we running away?” I asked over the rushing wind. “I thought Soul Dealers were strong?”

“I am. We are!” he retorted. “I can take those three out, but not an entire pack. You saw him call for backup,” he shouted, sounding annoyed.

So that was why Baldy howled. “Where are we going?”

Michael did not answer. I looked back and saw a gang of steroid-pumped men in motorcycles trailing behind us. “Michael!” I yelled. “They are here!”

Michael glanced at the side mirror. Despite the winds slapping against my face and ears, I heard his fluent cursing. He changed gears or whatever it was that made motorcycles go faster. I placed my arms around his muscled abdomen and leaned my face on his back. Closing my eyes, I prayed that Michael would not crash us flat against the incoming traffic like pancakes on a plate. My insides swerved and moved around my body as Michael took sharp turns. I opened my eyes and looked behind us and saw that the racing wolf-men were still there. “Faster, Michael!”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? FLY?”

Despite everything, I laughed. It was fun knowing that I annoyed Riverwoods. However, the joy that I felt was temporary. It disappeared as fast as it came. All of sudden, I was gripped again by the reality of danger and the threat of impending doom. I swallowed, but my throat didn’t cooperate as my mouth was dry.

Michael weaved through the rushing New York traffic with the expertise of a pizza delivery boy. I was thankful that all the lights were green. For all I knew, Michael would’ve stopped to obey traffic regulations. Cars were honking at us as Michael's motorcycle slipped past, missing the vehicles by inches. I tucked my legs and knees in to avoid hitting side mirrors or car doors.

We sped from the Jackie Robinson Parkway to Grand Central. The motorcycle zoomed past the thickening mass of sedans and SUVs as the rush hour approached. I’m in a motorcycle chase, I thought, an idea forming at the back of my mind. It was farfetched, but it was worth trying. “Guns!” I declared. “Do you have a gun?” I asked Michael as he banked along the sides of 193rd. An old lady walking her dog swore at us as we missed running over her puppy by a couple of inches.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked over the slapping winds.

“Of course not!” I shouted.

“Then why do you ask?” he shouted back.

I did not answer. Why would someone who can access the power of Angels need a gun, anyway? I asked myself as I thought that the idea was stupid. I looked over my shoulders just in time to see Baldy catch up to us. He had no helmet on. His smooth head gleamed as the light of the almost setting sun touched it. “He’s catching up!” I shook Michael.

Which was a terrible idea.

The motorcycle wiggled and nearly toppled to the sides as Michael fought for control. “For Heaven’s sake, K!” he swore just as he managed to balance the motorcycle again. “Hold tight!” he shouted and swerved left. The motion was so sudden it almost sent us flying. A loud blaring noise came from a nearing truck. The air smelled of burned rubber as Michael’s motorcycle tires skidded against the road.

Bald guy’s eyes widened in dawning horror as he sped past us. Our gazes locked for a fleeting moment. He leaped out of his motorcycle into the pavement. He rolled on the ground several times, grunting. His big-bike clashed with the incoming trailer truck. I half expected bald guy’s motorcycle to explode but it didn’t. The Russian werewolf stood up and bared his throat at us.

Michael turned the throttle. I was jerked backwards as we went from zero to sixty in just a split second. I didn’t break my focus on Baldy and watched as one of his motorcycle companions stopped to pick him up. They zoomed the moment bald guy hopped on, leaving the truck driver shouting at the wreck and the heavy congestion they made. From a distance, I could hear the faint sounds of police sirens.

“This is not good,” shouted Michael. “The cops are coming.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

He did not answer. A wave of annoyance washed over me, drowning the anxiety and panic already brewing in my mind. Why does this guy keep ignoring me? I thought, forcing myself to take my mind off the real dangers. We were having a motor chase with wolves that wanted me dead; cops are probably gonna arrest us, and I am about to turn into a slobbering dog as soon as the full moon appears, And all I can obsess about was Michael not answering my stupid question. Go figure.

The motorcycle zipped through Kennedy Bridge connecting Randall’s Island and South Bronx. “Are we really heading for North Brother? And don’t you dare not answer me, Riverwoods!”

“Yes!” he yelled like a grumpy old man winning the Powerball. “The sun’s already setting. We need to take you off the city,” he said, his voice sounding a little muffled. “It’s getting dark already. This is our best shot. I just hope that everything goes to plan.”

“Oh, really? Why didn't you bother to tell me what your plan was?!” I screamed at him as I looked behind me. The wolf-gang motorcycle club was still behind us, their bike engines revving like werewolf growls. “They’re still behind us! Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“I am doing something!”

I shook my head. The anxiety that gripped me like a vice was gone. If Michael wasn’t driving, I would have choked him senseless. We took a sharp right into a concrete path with the 149th road sign. On our either sides, factories and distilleries rose and fell. Huge white domes and warehouses loomed over us.Trucks and container vans were double parked on the sides of the road. The stale smell of rusting metal, gasoline, and ale tortured my nostrils. This area of the Bronx was the industrial center. I found it strange that there was no one around, not even a single passing vehicle. I looked ahead. From a distance, the North Brother Island stuck out of the waters like a giant mole across an otherwise flawless skin. The evening came fast. The sun slid past the horizon, plunging the sky into a deepening darkness. Looking up, I uttered a silent prayer. I breathed a sigh of relief as there was no silver ball of rock among the clouds and the twinkling stars.

The motorcycle slowed down. Michael squeezed the brakes and I heard the tires squeal. “Why are we stopping?”

“Get down. There’s no more road to drive on,” he said as he removed his helmet and dismounted the bike.

I hopped off his motorcycle and took the stupid bike-helmet off of my head. I expected Michael to start running down the road that continued to snake along the edges of the land but he didn’t. The island was in front of us, but there were no bridges. We were standing on the side of the road that overlooked the East River. If we were to jump over the concrete barrier, we’d find ourselves drowning in brown water. Nope, not a chance. I figured that there was nowhere to run, and taking the road ahead will lead us far from the North Brother. The only way was back up the path where we came from. That wasn’t an option since the wolf gang was there. My heart began to pound again as I heard loud, revving noises from behind. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned around. As sure as sugar is sweet, bald guy and friends were hopping off of their motorcycles, sharp smiles plastered across their hard and bearded faces.

“Quite a chase, cyka,” Russian Baldy spat to the ground. A vein throbbed on his forehead. Behind him were at least fifteen bulky men dressed in the same outfit as his. Standing together like they were, they looked like a crappy boy band of steroid-pumped middle-aged men with high testosterone levels. A chorus of low growls came from their throats. “Why you running, Soul Dealer?”

I looked at Michael. His face was calm and composed as though there wasn’t a pack of snickering wolfmen in front of us. He stepped in front of me, his hand gesturing me to stand behind him.

I did, as there was nothing else I could do. I knew I should be leaping into action, fighting or even just baring my teeth, but my instincts told me to stay put.

“You call that running away?” Michael scoffed. “Be thankful that the Soul Ministry forbids engaging with Other Worlders in the open.”

“Excuses,” bald guy laughed. “How you do now?” he asked in his broken English. “We are not in open anymore, cyka. You cannot take on all of us.”

“I know,” Michael said, but I knew it wasn’t an admission of defeat. The smile in his voice told me. “But she can.”

“Who? Me?” I asked, my eyes suddenly wide. “There’s no way I can--”

I stopped talking as soon as I heard it. A rushing and gathering sound. Like something rolling over, amassing force and speed. It came from behind us. From the river. I turned around.

It was the water.

Out of nowhere, a huge wave of brown East River-water loomed at least fifteen feet over us. I could swear I heard a faint singing. My knees shook at the sight of the incoming wave. The muscles on my legs moved as an urge to run to a higher place took over, but Michael’s hand kept me in place. “Stay put,” he said as though he did not fear drowning.

"Are you crazy? We're gonna drown!" I protested.

He stayed silent, and a smile curled his lips.

My heart wanted to burst out of my chest, but all I could do was watch as the colossal wave fall down on us. I shielded my face with my arms in reflex as I expected the water to swallow us both. Closing my eyes, I braced for the worst. A loud splashing noise resounded as the water hit the road we were on and raced to devour everything in its way.

“Run!” I heard bald guy’s unmistakable accent.

Confused as to why I wasn’t flushed like poop down a toilet bowl, I opened my eyes and stared. My mouth was wide open as I saw the water rush on our either sides. The wave parted and avoided us as it drowned the wolf gang ahead. Whimpering noises and grown-man screams pierced the air as the continuous flow of water swallowed all that was in its path. The faint singing I heard earlier became more profound. I looked over my shoulders, and sure enough I saw a woman, held afloat by a fountain of brackish water.

She was beautiful.

Her long spill of wavy hair was black with pink streaks. Her skin was pale and her eyes were glowing a blue-green light. Her thin lips were moving as she sang the sweetest melody I have heard in my entire life.

“Summers,” said Michael, a proud grin on his face. “Meet Aeriella, the mermaid that I told you about.”