Scenes from an Unholy War by Hideyuki Kikuchi Page B

roaring sound and flames made Gil turn and look.
    “That’s Josh’s antitank rifle. That idiot!”
    It was time to prepare for a fight. Judging from the location of the explosion, the outlaws would probably figure the laser cannon was in danger too and come running.
    “Took ’em long enough.”
    Crouching down, Gil ran. The bodies of guards lay all around the laser cannon he’d rigged with explosives. The men who came running to the scene wouldn’t even have time to be surprised. In fact, they wouldn’t have time to notice anything. There were two minutes until detonation.
    Grunting, Gil halted. His enormous frame brimmed with tension and impatience.
    A figure stood there.
    Is that D? he thought. The height and build were both quite similar to D’s. But it wasn’t him. Even the Hunter’s shadow was gorgeous. This guy was—
    Time was too precious for him to give it any further consideration. Gil channeled his strength into his “gaze.” It was something he’d been born with, and family members, teachers, and friends who’d been exposed to it had died. If he concentrated, he could knock insects out of the air, make a person’s heart explode, or make plants wither with just a look. Fish would drown and bob to the surface. Classmates he didn’t care for would fall, and policemen dropped dead. The next thing he knew, he was doing it for a living. It wasn’t until several years later that he learned the nature of his power and how to control it—after taking nearly two hundred lives.
    Clutching his chest, his foe toppled forward. That was the usual reaction, and Gil was satisfied. Quickly turning around, he was just about to leave. But a pained voice detained him.
    “If you’re going to hit me in the chest, you should at least do it with a stake.”
    The man rose from the ground, as strong as a mountain. He was in the midst of drawing the twin longswords that were crossed on his back. Clanging them together, the man charged forward.
    Gil focused his gaze for all he was worth.
    Just then, the ammo dump exploded. Josh’s antitank rifle was no more than a bottle rocket in comparison. The shock wave and shrapnel instantly killed twenty of the outlaws, and all of the rest were injured. Flames leapt wildly, trying to consume the encampment, and all told more than thirty of the men were charred to the bone.
    —
    The explosion could be heard and the flames seen from the village of Geneve.
    “Looks like they pulled it off,” Lyra whispered to the sheriff up at the top of the watchtower.
    “It’s even bigger than I expected. You think maybe those four didn’t . . .” Rust said anxiously.
    “I can’t say about the other three, but D will probably be coming back,” Lyra told him.
    “I sure hope so.”
    “Want to send someone out to meet them?”
    “No, I wouldn’t want to risk them running into any scouts the enemy might have out. We need every last pro we’ve got here.”
    “That’s the right call,” Lyra said in a tone that suited her frosty nature, if not her lovely countenance. “Our responsibility lies right here in this village. What kind of Black Death spies do we have sneaking around? Who was it that killed one of their men? Maybe they’re one and the same. Then again, maybe they’re not. There’s only one thing we do know—they’re a poison pill that could wreck this village. That’s what should concern you and me both.”
    “We’ve checked the village register. Only four people have moved into the village in the last decade: Codo Graham, Sergei Roskingpan, Stejiban Toic, and Miriam Sarai.”
    “With one exception, they all seem pretty upstanding.”
    “Check. All except Old Man Roskingpan, right?” Rust said, the wry grin that flitted across his lips betraying his partiality to the man he’d just named.
    Through the window behind them, someone shouted, “Heeeeeeey!”
    “Speak of the devil. It’s the old man.”
    Scratching the back of his head, Rust walked over to the window