The Permutation

Apex (Part 10) Paul

Saturday, November 5th, 1:40 a.m.

Paul watched the events that followed like it was the last showing of a drive-in movie. All he needed was a bucket of popcorn slathered in butter. CGI didn't light a candle to what was happening in front of him. Creatures from another realm had body snatched the citizens of Lancet Falls, and were wiping out people with superpowers submerging the world in darkness. He would've wrote the screenplay if he thought he would survive.

He wished he was the leader type, someone who could command confidence in people and Vyth to drive to safety, but he knew it wouldn't matter anyways. If the predators made it out of this, which they would, they wouldn't stop with Lancet Falls, and no matter how far he got, they would be drawn to him like moths to a flame. The violet light connected the lot of them and if these predators were hungry for those fools, it was only a matter of time before they decided Paul would be a delectable addition to their number.

Paul sat in the back of the truck, back propped up against the body, and was transfixed by his eventual doom. It horrified him, but he was unable to look away. The heroes would put up a good effort, but they didn't have what it took to come out on top.

The millionaire was approaching the top of the screen, so close, but far enough away that he wouldn't be in time to save those sacrificing their lives for his cause. The little girl, Jordan, was the most courageous of the lot. Paul couldn't see her face, but he knew she stood there cool, calm, and collected about the havoc was inflicting, as cold as Paul in her own way. Paul didn't know what she was capable of, but her cold assurance she could do what was necessary was enough to convince Paul.

The scarecrow of man with the soot stained face looked like a skeletal apparition that towered over the others. Paul could feel the muscles in the man's body tensed like a rubber band stretched taut, waiting to be released and leave a nasty welt on some unsuspecting fat kid's arm. The man was a mystery and had seemed out of place even in the group of misfits gathered at the drive-in. Paul didn't see how he fit into the mix, but by the way he carried himself, Paul wouldn't have been surprised if the man had also been affected by the light.

The reporter was on the girl's opposite side. Paul wouldn't have minded if she heroically succumbed to the horde, but he didn't want to kill her. Killing people was an unsavory business, and Paul did not relish the thought of adding another human to his list, even if they were bent on killing him. The unfortunate slaying of the police officer had disgruntled the reporter, and from the look in her eyes, Paul knew she would go to the ends of the Earth to get her revenge on him. Paul knew a thing or two about revenge, but his revenge had nothing to do with Michelle Kim. Paul regretted the death of anyone's loved one, but it had been necessary to ensure his own survival, which was paramount above all other concerns including the lives of others.

The transponder guttered and sparked out like it had been doused with a bucket of water. Paul couldn't see or hear the thrashing he would have expected, their footfalls were oddly silent for such a large group. However, his tendrils could feel them. They writhed and twisted around the packed throngs of humanity. Paul struggled to keep track of his group in the chaos, but found if he closed his eyes he could feel them. Beacons of violet light seemed to pulse in the darkness, and Paul wouldn't have been surprised if the pulses pumped in time with their heartbeats.

Through closed eyes, Paul could see a brilliant emission of violet light leave circular afterimages that settled on his retinas, leaving behind spots of violet light that he struggled to get rid of.

The maelstrom of the mob's manic movement had stopped. Paul couldn't even feel their breathing, and for a brief second, Paul thought the girl had done the impossible, killing hundreds of people in an instant.

While the tall man and Jordan stayed in place, the reporter sprang into motion. She moved so fast Paul's tendrils struggled to keep track of her. He didn't relish the thought of the woman that flowed like quicksilver coming after him next.

Don't make me kill you.

The horde was coming back to life in small increments, starting with the twitching of fingers, but from the looks of it, they would recover their full speed in a couple of minutes. It looked like Paul wouldn't have to kill Michelle after all. It didn't matter how graceful she was, or how deadly, there were too many of them. Eventually, they would press too close to her. She wouldn't even be able to move at all.

That's all folks.

Paul checked the progress of the millionaire. The guy wasn't moving as fast as when he first started his ascent. At that high up, it would be hard for him to catch his breath, and he didn't look like he was in the best shape to begin with. Maybe the height was starting to get to him, or maybe he was considering staying up there, and leaving them to their fate. Paul didn't the predators could climb. The climbing man had a familiar look about him. He looked like he'd mean spit through a grinder a couple of times, and what was left was ten years older than it should be. It was the look of an alcoholic, Paul knew because an alcoholic helped instill all his deep seated issues. Paul had been an idiot to put any faith in the man.

Alkies aren't worth half a shit.

Paul thought about convincing Vyth to drive off again. Now that the others were so clearly outmatched, the equation was changed. The others faced certain death, but Paul's group had a fighting chance, or a fleeing chance. Paul banged on the truck's back window to get the man's attention, but he couldn't pull it away from the top of the projector screen.

Paul forgot what he was going to say. The millionaire was perched on the top of the giant screen. The tall man and Jordan stood back to back with arms raised in defensive positions. The reporter danced in and out of the masses, but Paul gauged she didn't have longer than thirty seconds before the predators regained full movement. A dark object was flying through the sky, and Paul realized the boy had fulfilled his asinine promise. The water tower hung from his fingers, and it looked like a fly trying to carry a bowling ball. The boy hovered in place waiting for the millionaire to make his move.

Without thinking, Paul reached for the reporter and the scarecrow. His tendrils circled their torsos and lifted them into the air. Paul debated plucking Jordan into the air, but she had a job to do. It would have felt wrong to defy her wishes. Jordan knew the risks involved, and still decided to sacrifice herself for the others. Who was he to stop someone from saving his skin? Paul dangled his damsels just out of reach of the predators. He enjoyed watching them clamor for their meal like mindless automatons. Paul's tactics had saved Jordan a little bit of time, but when they realized they couldn't reach the reporter or the tall man, they lost interest, turning on Jordan once more. Forms swarmed the little girl, and Paul lost sight of her, even with his tendrils.

Paul heard a gasp from the girl with the purple hair that screamed, "I need attention."

The millionaire was hurtling towards the ground.