Page 101 - TheRedSon_PrintInterior_430pp_5.5x8.5_9-22-2019_v1

plump orange nightmares. He was airborne and above my
head before I even realized he’d moved. He slashed down at
my head with one of his reddened carving knives, laughing
like a child. I simply bent low and allowed my father, asleep
on my back, to intercept it. Jack dragged his blade across my
father’s face, calling up sparks that outlined the remainder
of the Carver’s leap to the far end of the passenger car.
I knew I was unfit for a second conflict. I flew to the
opposite end of the car, gathering Janus’s heads along the
way, barreling through the sliding door at its end. I hopped
to the connecting car and swung my father in a wide arc.
His anger at being awoken for such a menial task produced
a blinding shockwave that not only separated the cars, but
tore through the immediate area with such ferocity that all
became dust and wooden shrapnel—the Red Dream was
surely upon us. I was launched through the door of the car
behind me, the shriek of mangled metal and exploding wood
close on my heels.
I groaned to my feet amid the whipping wind and swirling
dust. Jack Lantern shrank into the distance, standing at the
jagged edge of the disconnected train car. He was cheering,
his hands clapping wildly above his head. “Bravo!” he
called. I smiled and took a deep bow.
Despite the utter lack of a third of its construction, the
train somehow still facilitated the expression of Jack’s
gallery, allowing it to remain intact. The decorated heads
swayed smoothly to the car’s motion, rocking gently to the
rhythmic clacking of its travel. I replaced the mask of the
Mad Mercenary, slipping it gently over his face—a thing
that had no meaning beyond the gas mask that obscured
it. I reached down and gathered the engraved remains of
Janus’s three now-grinning faces. I took the heads of the
two monstrous killers and hung them from the ceiling, far
from the other assortment of dangling, whittled heads of
Jack’s design. Wolves had no place among sheep, which
was almost certainly true in life, and most definitely true
104 | Mark Anzalone