From the Street to the Stars (Andy Nebula: Interstellar Rock Star, Book 1)

Chapter 21: Flashdevil Finale

Fire raced through my veins and exploded in my head, erasing reality. The cargo module disappeared, dissolving into a narrow backstage corridor lined with banks of video monitors. Music pounded in my ears and I held a stringsynth in my hand.

I rolled to my feet, clutching it tight. I'd worked for this moment all my life—millions would be watching on vid, tens of thousands awaited me just beyond that curtain at the end of the monitor-lined corridor, beyond that broken-down dancebot half-blocking the way. The pounding of the music surged louder in my ears. Time for my entrance—why was the curtain still down?

But then it opened, and I saw another dancebot, this one fully functional, between me and the stage. Exultantly, I dashed forward, leaped over the broken 'bot, and reached for the second, but it turned and ran away from me, out into the bright stage lights.

The crowd roared, but I was furious. A malfunctioning 'bot, tonight of all nights? Marcel would hear about this! I dashed after it, stringsynth loose in my hand, but the 'bot kept moving away from me, staggering, obviously bugging out. The roar of the crowd turned to boos, and then to laughter—and in a rage I flung the stringsynth at the dancebot.

It struck the machine squarely in the head in a shower of sparks and smoke. The 'bot froze, then toppled with a grinding, ear-splitting shriek of tortured metal.

The music still pounded around me and the crowd was still watching. I had to give my fans a show! I raced forward, snatching up the stringsynth. Another dancebot appeared in front of me, as obstructive as the previous one. Had they all crashed at once?

My anger swelled again, and I reared back to throw the stringsynth, but something grabbed my arm from behind and shrieked in my ear. The sound rang my head like a bell, the echoes resolving slowly into words: "Kit, no!"

For a handful of seconds, the stage, the dancebots, and the music faded away, and I saw, as dimly as if it were a bad holoprojection, the corridor outside the cargo module. The big hydra stood in front of me like the Dealer had, inert, collapsed. Behind him cowered Rain. Meta had seized my arm, and in my hand I held, not a stringsynth, but, wriggling and hissing, the horrible creature that had bitten me.

Rain! Meta didn't know he was in league with the Dealer! I struggled to pull free of her grasp, to throw the monster at Rain as I'd started to, but it shifted in my hand and lunged instead at Meta, and in horror I broke loose and threw it against the wall with all my strength. It hit with a horrible wet, crunching sound and slid to the floor, leaving behind a green, glistening streak.

But I couldn't hold onto reality against the river of venom racing through my veins. The corridor blew away like smoke in a hurricane, returning me to the dark stage and the pounding music. I dashed forward, shouldering past the dancebot I no longer remembered as Rain, and burst onto a huge stage. Light exploded around me and I screamed as flaming daggers lanced into my head, through my eyes, my ears, my nose, my mouth. Acid poured onto my body, eating away my skin, stripping me down to the bone, driving me to my knees. Still screaming, I staggered back to my feet and careened stage right, trying to outrun the agony.

I left the stage behind and staggered through darkness. Nightmare figures loomed before me: Paris Paradise, his body a broken, bloody mess from his encounter with the wheeler, babbling, "I told you so, I told you so," through the red, toothless ruin of his mouth; Paul Jarez, glistening with sweat as his body spun in an endless series of pirouettes beneath a head that never moved. I dodged them both and ran on.

Marcel dropped from the darkness above me, chest soaked in scarlet from the knife wounds that killed him, eyes blank and dead. I pushed him aside, sobbing with horror and pain, but he grabbed my ankle and almost pulled me down. I screamed and kicked. My boot hit his face with a sickening crunch. He let go, and I ran on.