Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

The powerful bolts rained down, exploding the tree the hunter was in, reducing it to splinters, as well as the trees closest to him.

He made it out of the tree before the bolt hit, Diego reported, already on the move. That man is fast. He was a blur. Something warned him. He’s on the ground running.

Can you see him? Jonquille asked. She was moving as well, keeping pace with Rubin, but staying about ten feet to his left.

Diego kept going through brush, following a nearly nonexistent trail. Rain and ice fell from the clouds. Thunder rolled continuously.

Rubin answered for Diego. Glimpses of him. Low to the ground, running in between the red spruce and oak trees just beyond the stream. He blends in, but he’s so fast movement catches the eye.

Got him. Am dropping ball lightning on him. It will run low to the ground. You should be able to direct it straight onto him. He might not see it coming or expect it.

Jonquille was right. Ball lightning was a rare atmospheric phenomenon few people had even heard of. Scientists weren’t even certain how it was formed, although already the military in several countries were trying to find ways to utilize it as a weapon. Ball lightning rarely, if ever, occurred at high points where lightning strikes were inevitable. The phenomenon was much more likely to occur during a thunderstorm on flat ground. It would be the last thing their enemy would consider in the way of an attack on him.

Can you control it?

Inside a house or an enclosed area, a blast could be contained and stay relatively small in the way of damage for such an explosive event, but outside, the damage could be extreme.

I can’t control anything. You will have to do your best.

Again, she was very honest, but Rubin felt her make every effort to control the charges building up in her. He felt the static rising in the hairs on his body. He knew Diego did as well. He was certain the enemy did, especially when the man suddenly dashed away from the stream, trying to put distance between his body and the shiny ribbon of water. He moved away from the taller trees, further adding to Rubin’s belief that he was as tuned to electrical buildup as all three of his pursuers.

That would make sense in terms of Whitney pitting a team of supersoldiers against them. Sooner or later, he had to get a really good team of men who were enhanced with animal DNA to match theirs and psychic gifts that were on par with theirs. This opponent was the first one that Rubin had ever run across that Whitney—and he was assuming it was Whitney due to the man’s capabilities—had sent after them that was truly a scary enemy. If an entire team was like this man, Rubin, Diego and Jonquille might really be in trouble if they went up against more than a few at a time.

Lightning forked in the bottom of the clouds, a jagged, hot, sizzling display, leaping from cloud to cloud overhead. Rubin noted where the enemy lay flat in the grass, using his toes and elbows to push forward, working his way toward an animal tunnel that would take him to thicker brush cover.

The ground ten feet away crackled with electrical energy, and he saw the white glow in the brush as Jonquille continued to run forward. Heat burst around him. Then she was still, lifting her arms wide, throwing them forward toward the meadow where their enemy had flattened, making himself small.

Thunder rolled, a deep booming drumbeat straight over their heads. All the while those lightning forks glowed and crackled ominously in the dark clouds above them. Bright spinning luminescent yellow spheres of various sizes surrounded by bluish-white halos dropped straight from the sky to rain on the meadow. Some seemed to detonate, while others traveled parallel to the ground. A few bounced low. All lasted longer than the brief flashes of lightning bolts, but at the most, ten to twelve seconds.

He’s not moving. He’s down, Diego reported.

Don’t approach him, Rubin cautioned. He’s a wily opponent. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still alive and has some kind of killing bite or a way to shoot poison into one of us. Let’s just wait until we see what he’s going to do.

Rubin came up beside his brother and crouched low, not taking his eyes off their prey. The squirrel man was lying facedown in the grass, unmoving. Rubin didn’t take his gaze off the man. Both he and Diego could be utterly still for hours. He had no doubt that their enemy could as well, but he was wounded and he had been losing blood—a lot of it. He might not have the time to pretend.

Jonquille? She should have been right there beside him.