End of Days (Penryn & the End of Days #3)(78)

Locusts clash midair, crashing and stinging until there’s a horde of them engulfing White Streak and Paige.

I can’t see what’s happening as they get buried under a mass of wings and stingers.

I think I stop breathing for a minute. I can’t see anything beyond the seething giant that is the swarm.

The locust cloud lifts from the bridge into the air as everyone watches. The wind generated from their wings buffets our hair and clothes, whipping us all. They float up into the sky until they blend into the mist, making it look like the sky is boiling.

They drift off over the bay, and I can’t see Paige or White Streak anywhere.

There’s nothing I can do for her now.

I have to accept that my sister has to go through her own fight. I just need to survive and be here for her when she gets back.

Don’t think about the possibility of her not coming back.





61


As soon as the locusts leave, I can see the sky filling with angelic warriors.

I catch myself automatically scanning the sky for Raffe, but I don’t see him in the mass of bodies.

I put my noise-canceling headphones on and shut my eyes to brace for what’s about to hit.

Even through my closed lids, I can see the blindingly intense spotlights turning on everywhere. The lights stab my eyes as soon as I try to open them.

I have to squint and blink several times to adjust to the brightness.

The angels shield their eyes behind their arms and pause in their flight. Several of them crash into each other. Many turn around to get away from the blinding light and fly straight into their buddies.

The lights stab my merely human eyes. I can’t imagine how painful it must be for the angels.

Then the giant speakers screech their feedback – the loudest and most piercing feedback I’ve ever heard, even through my noise-canceling headphones. All that intense noise blasting straight into the angels’ hypersensitive ears.

The angels slam their hands against their ears. With their eyes and ears assaulted, they’re staggering in the air, neither attacking nor flying away.

The angels’ exceptional night vision and sharp hearing is working to our advantage. Their superior abilities are their weaknesses now. They can’t turn it off. The intense lights must be killing their eyes. And that noise – hell, it almost makes my ears bleed with the sharp blast.

It helps to have Silicon Valley geniuses in your crew.

Freedom fighters with rifles pop up everywhere – beside the stage, along the bridge walkways, and behind the bridge supports. Although I can’t see them, there should also be snipers settled beside each spotlight and on platforms hidden beneath the bridge.

Gunshots ring through the night.

While the angels are staggering in midair, trying to see and think enough to get away from the god-awful noise, our fighters are shooting them down into the water. After what I saw when we fought angels in the sea the other day, it’s a good bet that most of them can’t swim.

By now, the great white sharks of Northern California should have found their way to the bloody bait we cast into the bay during the show. Here, sharky, sharky . . .

The feedback from the speakers changes and begins blasting death metal music so loudly into the sky that I swear the bridge suspensions are vibrating.

The twins were in charge of the music selection.

I catch sight of them on the side of the bridge, each with an arm raised, holding up their forefingers and pinkies in a devil sign, head-banging to the beat. They’re mouthing the words to the garbled voice screaming over the intense electric guitar and drums blasting out of the speakers. They might look pretty badass if it weren’t for their hobo clown outfits.

It’s the loudest party the Bay Area has ever heard.





62


Those of us on the ground crew help reload the bullets for the gunners. The goal is to try to knock the enemy out of the sky and into the shark-infested waters, but if some of them happen to fall onto the bridge, we’ll be ready for them.

I hope.

The lights turn off all together, plunging us into darkness. Doc and Sanjay insisted the lights flash to keep the angels from adjusting to the light and to continue to keep them blind. So the lights are on timers to turn off and on according to their guesses as to the angels’ ability to adjust.

Our snipers have infrared goggles to see in the dark, but there weren’t enough to go around to the ground crew. With all the death metal blasting through the air and my double-layered soundproofing, I can’t hear anything either.

We’re in the middle of a battle for our lives – blind and deaf. I freeze, desperately trying to sense something. It feels like we stand vulnerable in the dark forever.

Then the lights turn back on, blasting our eyes with their intensity. I squint, trying to see through the blinding glare.

Angels begin to fall onto our bridge. We work in groups to shove them off the edge while they’re still debilitated. Let the sharks sort them out while they thrash in the water.

I’m hoisting a net with a team of guys, ready to toss it over an angel, when I see my mom wandering around in the middle of all this, shouting to herself. I drop the net, letting the three other guys handle it, and run over to frantically try to get her under cover.

She’s too busy to listen to me. After a few seconds, I realize she’s shouting commands to the shaved cult members.