Chapter 2

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Buffy jumped down the set of stairs. The train of babies and then Jack flew behind her. She turned the corner and kept on going. Jack might have been a pilot but he didn’t like flying this way. The wire was twisted around his wrist and was cutting off circulation. He swung his legs out toward the oncoming wall, collided, absorbed the shock and pushed off. He’s have to be careful, this body was too young to injure its knees permanently.

It was a damn good thing that Jack had the foresight to give the babies seatbelts and package them in their bins with the extra blankets. Jack made a promise then and there to never allow Buffy to drive any vehicle. He was sure that the baby train would take Buffy out once she tried to slow down. Or she would send Jack and the babies flying into a wall before Jack could protect them. He had thought about kicking off his shoes and ‘sock-skiing’ down the hall, instead of letting his rump take all the abuse, but he was sure that he’d need his shoes sometime soon. To run, to fight, to hide, Jack just knew that he’d need his shoes.

He was so having a long chat with Thor when this was over. The Asgard non-interfering ass.

A human kid jumped in front of Buffy and the baby train and activated some sort of light weapon. Jack wasn’t sure what kind of damage the ‘light sword’ could do but the boy held it with a calm authority that frightened Jack. The kid was younger than Charlie had been when he died. In Jack’s opinion, he had no business challenging adults-or mostly adults, the Buffy girl couldn’t be older than twenty-five – to battle.

Speaking of that Buffy-girl, she did the most unexpected thing. She put on a burst of speed, then swung her torso in such a way that the train whipped around. She released it, forcing the infants’ bins to circle like a giant lawn mower blade toward the kid’s feet. Jack hung on for dear life, trying to slow the train enough so that it wouldn’t go flying off the ledge on the other side of the hallway. The boy jumped over Jack and the babies with the height that would put a NBA player to shame but Buffy was on the same playing field.

Jack would have never thought that a jumping boy would be a sitting target, but Buffy treated the child as such. She leapt into the air and collided with the boy; he couldn’t change his trajectory mid-lift. The two tumbled to the stone floor, grappling over the weapon.

The baby train was still speeding for the ledge, so Jack trusted Buffy to do her thing and focused solely on trying to create enough friction to stop. Jack rolled a couple times then spied a column on the edge of the walkway. With all his strength, he pulled the baby train, trying to direct its path toward the column. It didn’t take to much work. Buffy might have been sending the train for the same target but her aim was slightly off. Forgivable, considering the rest of her multitasking.

Finally, Jack and the tail end of the train collided with the column and bounced off like a pinball back towards the safe part of the walkway. Unfortunately the front part that Buffy had been pulling swung around back to the edge. Jack watched in horror as the first two bins fell off the cliff. Jack grappled backwards, his shoes giving him the necessary traction to prevent the other bins from following.

“Buffy!” he yelled.

The sounds of a fight abruptly stopped.

“What does your heart tell you?” Jack heard Buffy ask. If he could have spared the attention, he would have rolled his eyes. Just like a girl to get touchy-feel-y when there were lives on the line.

There was a heavy pause and Jack was slowly losing ground. He cursed whoever designed the stupid baby bins so heavily.

“To . . .” the boy spoke slowly, “To trust you.” He sounded surprised at his own conclusion.

“Good,” said Buffy. “Help Jack. We’re here to get as many children out at possible.”

In an instant, both Buffy and the boy appeared by the baby train and started pulled back. Bins three and four were pulled completely back onto the walkway. Buffy was right at the edge, leaning over and lifting bin two over the edge. Jack counted three little heads in the bin and breathed a sigh of relief. His seatbelts held firm. He thanked any non-gou’ald gods listening that he had swallowed his pride and let Buffy tightened the knots.

Buffy reached for the last bin over the edge, but her arms just weren’t long enough. If she leaned off the edge anymore, Jack would be fishing for his partner.

“Got it?” he asked the boy.

The boy wrapped the wire around his wrist, found his footing and nodded grimly. Jack let go and the baby train barely budged. Jack hurried to the opposite side as Buffy. Once he had stopped rushing, he crawled to the edge. He leaned over to see what was taking so long.

And set eyes on the most horrific battle scene. How had he not recognized the sounds of war before now?

There were adults, dressed the same as the boy and the infants and using the same ‘light sword’ as the boy and they were obviously on the defensive against the army clad in white armor. The ‘home team’ was out numbered maybe ten-to-one. The only reason why it was not a massacre was that they were taking a good number of the armored soldiers with them.

Jack ignored the battle below and set to the task of getting the last bin back on the quiet walkway. He grimly set his jaw. He didn’t need to be told that those white armored soldiers had tried to blow up the nursery with the babies still in it. That would have been a massacre.

There were kids down there.

The adults were trying to protect their backs but children were fighting and dying down there in that battle.

Buffy caught a hold of the dangling baby bin and started reeling it in. Jack helped but one part of his brain wished for a gun, a sniper rifle would be good, from this position he could cover the ‘home team’s’ retreat. Why hadn’t whoever had dropped him in the nursery given him a gun? Surely Thor would have given him a gun, wouldn’t he?

Stray weapons fire hit column by Jack’s side. Jack tried to take cover and bring the baby bin with him but secondary weapon’s fire hit the bin. The three babies inside started crying. For once Jack was pleased that the bins were built so tough. None of them were harmed.

But then another weapon fired and hit the baby bin and Jack’s wire connectors broke. The bin and the three infants fell.

“Nooo!” Buffy yelled.

Jack tackled Buffy before she could fling herself off the ledge after the falling babies. In her grief, she let him. Jack peeked over the edge. The battle was dying down. The ‘home team’ was mostly reduced to corpses littered on the ground. But amazingly enough the babies hadn’t hit the ground yet!

They were slowly being raised back to Buffy and Jack. Buffy’s head tilted toward the right and Jack followed her line of sight. There a wounded alien leaned against a column and raised one outstretched hand. Sweat poured off the alien from the effort.

Jack knew that the alien was trying to give the infants back to them.

From behind the alien, weapon fire aimed at the babies. First the lowest infant was hit. The alien could not waste energy on the dead, so he/she/it let the child drop. Then the second infant was hit. The alien poured all its remaining energy into the final baby. Buffy reached, stretched her arms, yearning for the infant. Jack anchored her lower body, trying to give her a couple more inches.

“Got’cha! Nooo!” Buffy’s joyful cry turned into a wail of anger. The third baby had been shot to death in her hands.

Buffy cradled the tiny corpse. Her eyes drifted toward the alien who had tried so hard to give back the child.

He/it turned its face toward Buffy. “Save the Children,” he said. A man, hooded and robed like the boy and the alien, stepped out from the shadows. He had a blaster in one hand and a ‘light sword’ in the other. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he beheaded the alien. He then ordered the troopers to attack Buffy and the others.

“Get them out of here,” Jack finished in her ear.

Buffy’s face set in stone. “Let’s go. But we’re going to come back for the Traitor.”

Jack couldn’t agree more.


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Whistler winced. “Oh, hell.”

The demon on Whistler’s left laughed and clapped him on the back. Most of the group of demons had cheered when the babies had gone over the edge, ‘cause hello-demons! Money was changing hands as fast as the action they were watching in the one-way portal the Powers had created to observe.

Whistler had won a good many pots already. The stupid Fertlit demon had bet that the Slayer would not survive the first explosion. Wishful thinking. But then the Fertlit was only in the service of the Powers because the Slayer had killed it with a Contatract Sword. The Fertlit had always cheered for the Dark Side before its death, so why change now?


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