Cornie’s car zipped through the streets at a hundred and twenty kilometres per hour, following the other two black cars, also packed with Guardians. Night had fallen, but a multitude of cells still walked about, going round their daily-nightly businesses.
James glanced at Jones at the back of the car. The boy looked tired and dangerously weak, with plasters taped all over his skin, concealing the human blood beneath. Cornie had done well with that one. Leo had an arm around him, which, frankly, seemed to hurt him more, but he didn’t show it.
As they had returned to the car, James had assured, promised him that he would get them all back to Uncle Michel. He was so confident then, but now it seemed like the promise was blank.
They still hadn’t reached anywhere near Singar, thanks to the darn GPS that couldn’t get a hold of Singar’s specific location. The red dot would flicker, vanish and appear on another vein or artery. In fact, it dodged them so much and made them encounter narrow curves and peaks that they switched on the sirens, which was strictly against Guardian Constitution, unless it was an emergency, as was the case.
Things were getting boring and James’ eyes had just shut down to close when an urgent voice broke in to the car from the radio.
“We got him!” came Macrophage Hark’s voice. “we got the stinking xzgx*gzx(he said some unprintable words.)” he seems to be heading for the- oh Great Axar-, the Lungs!”
The cars in front of them suddenly bolted forwards, and James could see the unmistakable brown vessel that belonged to Singar, weaving in and out of curves on the road as the Guardians gave chase.
Cornie did her best to keep up, but her car wasn’t made for car chases so they missed most of the action.
They could, however hear gunshots emanating from both the Guardians’ vessel and Singar himself. Tires screeched, vessels honked as angry drivers were forced to flee from the road or abandon their vessels as the vessel chase went wild. Pedestrians screamed and dived out of the way.
Singar made an unprecedented turn that they all hadn’t seen until they realized, when they broke a wide glass entrance door, that they were in a fully packed mall. Singar was mad.
He stepped on the gas and sped through the mall. Not everybody had time to run out of the way or even comprehend what was happening until Singar threw them over the roof of his car or trampled them under. It was a disgusting, unnerving, sick sight.
“Singar’s looking at full time imprisonment if we catch him,” Hark fumed over the Intercom.
But Singar was not to be caught.
They had to stop, in fear of hurting more people. After quickly telling an utterly flabbergasted security guard to call the Platelets and the Erythrocytes, they reversed and took a rather long route around the mall.
At least the GPS were working now. James frowned at the red dot. He blinked, refusing to believe what he was seeing.
“The dot-Singar has stopped!” He screamed into the intercom, unable to believe their luck. Singar had probably had an accident with all that speeding and reckless driving he was doing.
James was about to know that these things are never that easy.
Hark’s anxiety could be felt through the intercom as the Guardian vessels neared the static but pulsing red dot.
The Guardian vessels drifted to a stop expertly around Singar’s vessel. Immediately, they hurried out of the car, circling the brown vessel as they trained their guns on it.
James’ feet hit crunchy gravel as he jumped down from the vessel.
“Singar!” Commander Hark shouted. He wasn’t using any microphone to enhance his voice, but his words rang out loud and clear through the night. “As Chief Macrophage of the Heart’s Leukocytes, I order you to step out from the vessel slowly. Any move of hostility will be immediately acted upon.”
Silence. There was no way Singar was not hearing the voice. Hark counted down from ten, but even before he reached three, he made hand signals to his Guardians to extract Singar from the vessel manually.
The ordered Guardians crept quietly to the vessel. There was no one on the driver’s seat, but he could just as easily be hiding at the back seat.
More Guardians neared the brown vessel slowly, careful not to crunch the gravels too much. The Guardian had reached the vessel. He used the gun’s light to search in the vessel.
He opened the door. As soon as the knob clicked, the vessel burst in a green explosion. The virus.
It flew all about in thick amounts like an avalanche. As soon as it settled on the Guardians’ skin, it started burning like acid, and soon, the Guardians who were too close to the explosion were dead or screaming to their death, shaking violently on the ground.
The rest dived behind the Guardian vessels for cover. Macrophage Hark was screaming Inside curse words at Singar that James was glad he didn’t hear.
James, Seli, Cornie and Leo were also behind their vessels, but the humans knew whatever the virus was, it wouldn’t affect them, well, most of them, anyway. For some reason, James’ system went crazy when he even came too close to the virus.
When the commotion had died somewhat James got up, and his mouth dried. Half of the Guardians lay frozen dead on the gravels, with the green virus all over them. A few passer-bys also got a wicked dose of the stuff and now lay immovable on the ground. The air itself smelt rancid and too thick to breathe in.
Anger welled up in James, and he tapped into his Transformat to give him superhuman vision.
His eyes transformed into a sharp telescope. He could see every detail for a mile or so vividly. His power seemed hotter, stronger, his vision sharper, as if the Transformat were fuelled by his anger.
There. He spotted Singar a few yards away running helter skelter towards a giant building that had a twin building divided by a tunnel, probably a subway tunnel that sunk into the ground.
Must be the Lungs, James thought, and the tunnel must be the Bronchus Subway Station. He had seen a picture of it back at the Brain.
James looked around him. There was no one available to help. Hark was busy with the Platelets and Erythrocytes that gathered around him, asking him questions.
Everyone else was busy attending to their wounds or getting civilians off the site.
That blasted Singar, James thought. He had tricked them. He knew all along that his phone was the snitch which had led the Guardians to him. Of course! He must’ve been the one who was rigging the GPS signal, then he’d left the phone in the car.
James decided it was up to him. Singar would not get away with this punishable offence like he thought.
He gave chase, began running after Singar’s slowly vanishing figure. He wished the Transformat had the power of super speed too. No such luck.
A few voiced called after him. “Commander Winter!”
“James!”
“Where the heck are you going!?”
James did not stop or even turn back. Any slight mistake might lose Singar from him.
Singar run down a pavement sandwiched between two bushes that could have been a perfectly mowed garden once. Now the grass was dying and there were bald patches of dirt in places.
Singar must have heard footsteps. He looked back sharply and James caught a scared surprised look spread on his face like hot butter on bread. He extracted a gun and shot at James.
The bullet should have collided with James, but the Transformat was not about to let him down. The bullet came to him in slow motion, and he side stepped it. It whizzed past his grazed shoulder.
He quickly returned two shots. One of them flew well past Singar’s head, but the other pierced his calf.
Singar stumbled, but did not fall. He kept on running, with a slight limp and more slower, but James noticed his calf, and almost fell down himself.
Red human blood gushed out of Singar’s calf.