The Double Cross, Part Eight

Continued from Part Seven

“History!” Small Packages shouted in the woods. He could only see three feet ahead of him. The search party trudged through the fog. “Commander Justice, do you see anything?”

“No! Zion?”

 “Negative! With fog this dense, we could wander around forever and never find him.”

Commander Justice sighed. “All right, let’s get back to camp. We’ll search more in the morning.”

“Come on, bro.” Small Packages turned around looking for his seven foot tall brother. “Bro?”

Captain Zion shouted, “Come here, I found something!”

“Where’s here?”

A light came on in the forest.

Small Packages raced to the cigarette lighter’s gleam. Captain Zion and Comman-der Justice stood over Skyscraper’s over-alls. Small Packages screamed. “No!”

Captain Zion said, “Seems they snuck in, killed him in the fog, and took away the body.”

But took his pants off first? Small Packages sniffed them. Skyscraper hadn’t been killed here.

“What are you doing?” Commander Justice asked.

“Looking for evidence. They couldn’t have got out. This happened within the last few minutes.” Small Packages grabbed a six inch twig off the ground. “Zion, give me a light.”

“We can’t go on.” Commander Justice said. “We can barely maneuver without running into something.”

“Wrong, you can barely maneuver. The fog’s not as dense at my height.  If I don’t have to worry about you guys, I can go fine.”

“I’m not letting you go in alone.”

Captain Zion knelt down and lit the stick. “Shalom, little brother.”

Small Packages smiled. “Shalom, Zion. Thanks for understanding.”

Small Packages raced through the forest dodging trees, he stopped at a giant’s footprint. A size 8 ½ women’s boot.

It wasn’t the Impress, Data Bank, or the Mime. Their feet were way too small to wear that size. Elephant Woman’s exo-skeleton left bi-pedal elephant tracks. Speed Skater might be about this size, but her boots had a lot of tread and the tracks didn’t. That left only one person with the right size and type of shoe that could have made this track.


Small Packages followed the tracks.

 It’s funny how Walt never worked my ability to identify shoe tracks by sight into any of the comics. Guess they didn’t think it was a very exciting power.

Pantheon shouted, “You and your theatrics! You’ve put that little idiot right on our trail.”

“I’m not the one who used a signa-ture arrow to shoot Revelator. Hmm. Who did that? Oh yes.  That would be you.”

Captain Revolution. He’d pegged this right the whole way. The two of them were in cahoots.

A whoosh spliced through the forest. Dark Mystic landed behind the two. “Are all of them out of the way, finally?”

“I took care of Skyscraper,” Captain Revolution said.

“Splendid.” Dark Mystic frowned. “Do you see that light?”

“What light?”

Uh oh.

Small Packages extinguished the torch and dashed through the forest. He had to get back to camp and warn the others.

Flame flew over his head and through the fog. Dark Mystic looked to be aiming for Small Packages flambé.

Normal giants would be no problem in this weather, but no weather suited taking on one Demon-possessed madman and two genetically engineered superfreaks.

A pink gloved hand reached towards him and Small Packages sped up.

“You cannot escape me!” Pantheon shouted. “I am Artemis the huntress.”

Tree branches broke above him in the distance. Crack, crack, crack.

Captain Revolution jumped out in front of him. Small Packages took a sharp curve. Captain Revolution lunged for him, but missed. Like Tom vs. Jerry here.

Small Packages raced through the trees. Dark Mystic appeared in front of him. He turned. Pantheon was to the side with Captain Revolution closing in.

Only one thing to do. Fight.

He grabbed Pantheon by the boot and picked her up.

“What are you doing, you vermin?”

He tossed her into Dark Mystic, who threw her back at Small Packages. He ducked.

A red glove grabbed him. Small Pack-ages struggled against the hand, but it might as well have been made of titanium. All he was doing was wearing himself out.

Captain Revolution smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Pressure points are a fine oriental art that you will appreciate.” He turned to Mystic and Pantheon. “No one will come here before we lead the rest to the Peninsula. We can leave his body like a dead rat.”

No! It couldn’t end this way.

The nimble hands applied pressure to the back of Small Packages neck.

Fade to black.

Continued next Monday

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