Blood and Stone by C. E. Martin Page A

Jimmy’s hand tighter. She remembered all too well watching him fall from the roof of Argon Tower and smash into thousands of pieces on the ground below.
    “Ha!” Phillips said. “I remember one time in Vietnam, on a HALO drop, Mark’s chute didn’t even open. He hit the ground like a missile. Took him a half hour to heal. Hilarious.”
    ***
     
    They had been running for several minutes, following the shoreline of the island as they headed northwest. When they were below the exercise yard, they began a series of high jumps, rapidly ascending the steep slope of the island before they reached the high wall surrounding the exercise yard.
    They hadn’t seen a single soul.
    >>>UP AND OVER<<< Kenslir said, motioning at the wall.
    Victor bent his knees and sprang upwards, as the Colonel had taught him. He cleared the top of the twenty-foot high wall with ease. Landing was more difficult.
    Victor came down hard on his knee in the Courtyard, and heard a cracking sound. He panicked, until he realized his stone knee hadn’t cracked—the concrete he’d landed on had.
    Kenslir landed fifteen feet to his right, on the balls of his feet, his rifle held to his shoulder, sighting down the barrel. He was like some kind of super acrobat, Victor thought.
    The courtyard was a mess. Bodies were everywhere, their orange uniforms soaked in blood. A few stray birds were picking at the corpses. Victor was glad he’d been to so many crime scenes for the FBI, or else he was sure he would have thrown up. Even with a stone stomach.
    A ghostly silhouette drifted across the courtyard toward them, almost invisible. Daisy. The astral scout hovered in place, making gestures with her hands.
    “She says the island appears deserted,” Kenslir said, reading the sign language. “Give her a thumbs up, then point to the sky with one hand, and make a fist with the other.”
    Victor obeyed, but was confused. “Uh, why am I doing this?” he asked as Daisy flew away, disappearing from view as she gained altitude.
    “She can’t see me,” Kenslir explained. “But she can see you.”
    “Why?” Victor asked. It sounded familiar now that he thought about it but there was just so much to remember in the past month of intensive training. Great, now he looked stupid.
    “Part of my resistance to the mystical.” Kenslir was moving about the yard now, checking the various petrified guards. “Check a corpse.”
    Victor nodded and moved to the closest body. He knelt down and pressed his stone fingers to the cold flesh. It was nice to have to concentrate to do this now. Before his petrification, the slightest touch triggered his ability to see psychic impressions of the past.
    The memories from the corpse flooded into Victor’s head, distorted and blurry. The inmate, John Davis, had shuffled out in the morning, then stood simply watching the clouds—his senses dulled by some kind of medication. Then there were the sounds of screams. Finally, a red haired guard had approached John, then ripped his heart out.
    “He was disguised as a guard,” Victor said, breaking contact with the corpse.
    Kenslir was following a blood trail now. Tezcahtlip had been so blood soaked, he left a shuffling series of bloody scuffs as he walked. Right into the prison.
    “Were they drugged?” Victor asked, walking up beside him.
    “Keeps them under control. And it suppresses their abilities.”
    Victor didn’t think that sounded very humane. Of course, it could have been worse. At least the government didn’t slaughter the inmates like the shapeshifter had.
    Kenslir led the way up the stairs, out of the exercise yard, and into the prison.
    ***
     
    They had been inside for some time now, clearing rooms as they searched for any sign of the giant. Kenslir was sure the shapeshifter was gone, but he wouldn’t let anyone else on the island until he was sure.
    “We’re going to be at this all night,” Victor said, walking slightly behind the Colonel. Alcatraz was a huge