Apocalypse Soldier by William Massa

inside during the confusion. Next, locate Nicole, extract her, and head to the airfield. He’d planted a total of five charges, hoping to take out the cult’s wheels. The only pursuit vehicles left would be the motorcycles.  
    The first explosion definitely got their attention. Already, shouts sounded from within the stables as the cultists responded to the unexpected attack.  
    He counted down the seconds to the next detonation. A few beats later, another charge went off, releasing nitrogen, carbon oxides, and other gasses at an explosive velocity of 8.092 meters per second. This time the C-4 vaporized a van and transformed the vehicle into a fearsome vortex of steel. Nearby, the fenced-in horses reared and whinnied in panic. He felt sorry for causing such distress to the animals, but he was certain they would be safe in their grazing area.  
    Soldiers emerged from the stables, machine guns ready. Talon mirrored them, blending in with the crowd—just another soldier in the army of darkness responding to the surprise attack. More shouts cut through the night as they stumbled upon the dead guards. Two more explosions were timed to go off in one-minute intervals, so he would have to move fast.  
    As the soldiers surged toward the blazing vehicles, Talon caught a glimpse of the towering figure in charge of this nightmare brigade. Even though he’d been forewarned by Cabrera’s description, the sight of the man-beast affected him on an atavistic level. Maybe it was his Catholic upbringing, but seeing the red-skinned, horned soldier quickened his pulse and turned his blood to ice.  
    It required a concentrated effort to shake off the paralyzing wave of superstitious fear and focus on the inhuman figure. The first impression was that of a medieval demon made flesh. The roaring fires brightening the night only added to that impression. According to Cabrera, the cult leader believed himself to be Amon, a demon in command of an infernal legion. Talon wondered if this soldier of the apocalypse was channeling the darkness in the same way Zagan had in Silicon Valley. Was this black magic distorting malleable flesh? Or was it a form of extreme body modification, the work of someone trying to live up to some misguided ideal? The quickest way to test Amon’s powers would be to put a bullet into his head. It would be all too easy during the confusion. Unfortunately such a short-lived victory would most likely come at the cost of his own life. Despite having a clean shot, he resisted the temptation to pull the trigger.  
    Talon averted his gaze to avoid catching Amon’s attention. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the cult leader with the devil face closed in on the nearest pick-up. This new charge was timed to go off any second now, and the blast would erase the monster from this reality. As the countdown ticked down, Amon advanced toward the truck and spotted the C-4. Instead of cutting a hasty retreat, he continued his approach.
    Amon kneeled before the charge, his massive hand with its elongated nails closing around the C-4 as it was about to go off. Talon waited for a boom that never came.  
    He couldn’t believe it. How had Amon disarmed the explosive? And he was now turning his focus to the next bomb.  
    He knows , Talon realized. Somehow he knows about the timing of the charges.
    Talon had no idea what terrible power fueled Amon’s abilities. He could theorize about what he’d seen ad naueseam with Casca once the girl was safe. For now, he needed to concentrate on his original objective.  
    He pulled himself away from Amon’s magnetic presence and darted into the stables, moving with singular purpose. The supernatural events were irrelevant. All his energies were now fixed on the rescue mission.  
    He passed the empty pens and brushed past a few troopers headed the other way. A sudden scream pierced the stables, and he realized he might be too late. The cry had come from the writhing figure at the center of