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Winter's Blade (Pitch)

The metal plate of the catwalk clanked and hummed under their panicked feet. Jovie's constant pull on Em's arm both kept the shorter girl perpetually stumbling and kept her from falling as they raced to the end of the catwalk and plunged down the stairs.

But when they reached the bottom, the tugging ceased; Jovie stuttered to a stop. What had seemed a mostly-straight run from the office windows looked very different from the bakery floor. Machinery loomed like great armored beasts in a thicket of strewn parts.

A muffled Crack! sounded from behind them; Em saw Jovie cringe. They both knew it was a gunshot.

"This way!" Jovie pointed between two machines.
"Wait!" Em said. The big cauldron-looking thing to the right -- the axe was just on the other side of it, wasn't it? "We can get the axe!"

She pulled free of Jovie's grip. This was what she'd come for. It was too important to just abandon. And it was just around the corner...

...beyond a group of elves.

Em ran right into one. She screamed as she pushed off, sending the thing tumbling. But there were three or four more just a few feet away. They turned around, their eyeless mouthless faces wrinkling. Somehow they looked... angry.

Emmeline didn't have time to wonder where the hell they'd come from -- she turned and ran back the way she came.

Jovie was only a few steps from where Em had left her. "Run!" Em shouted. Jovie must have seen the fear in Em's eyes; she spun around and sprang ahead, juking past a machine's protruding appendage, then running alongside it. It seemed like the machine went on forever, but just a few yards ahead there was a break, and Jovie dove through it. Em followed.

The space between machines was like a dark alley; Em had to duck slightly under a metal cover. The space was claustraphobic; the machines on either side seemed poised to slam together and crush her.

She screamed and jerked back when she felt something touch her shoulder; a heavy glove slid off a metal tray and fell at her feet. She'd thought an elf had somehow been waiting for her inside the machines. She kicked the glove angrily, watching it flop out of the gap onto the floor ahead of her.

Finally, she was through to the other side. She turned around to see the first elf just stepping into the gap's entrance.

Jovie was standing in front of a row of boxes -- wait, Em recognized them; this was the wall of cardboard boxes she'd seen from above. She remembered a break at the end, next to the wall of the building. It should be a clear shot from there to the back door...

Jovie was digging through her bag. What for?
Em tugged her elbow. "Come on!"
But Jovie shrugged it off.
"They're coming!" Em said urgently.

"Gimme the lighter," Jovie said, extending one hand; the other continued plumbing the bag's depths...
"Wha...?"

"Lighter!" Jovie shouted. She suddenly stepped forward into the gap, screaming as she unwound a mighty kick...

...and an elf fell forward out of the gap, face-planting on the hard concrete floor.

It immediately began wriggling to get up; Jovie planted the sole of her boot on its head and leaned forward.

Em dug out the lighter and slapped it in Jovie's open palm. She could see the shifting shadows of more elves approaching...

Jovie stepped back. The elf leaped to its feet, arms out wide for a tackle even before it had straightened up...

Jovie shrugged the bag off her shoulder; her hand was unsheathed to reveal a metal cylinder about the size of a water bottle. Jovie raised the thing in front of her, and whacked the top of it with her other hand; there was a plastic popping sound, and something flew off and clattered to the floor. The elf's head seemed to pivot to follow the thing, then swung back toward the tall girl. Jovie brandished the lighter.

Flick-snick-flame-tss-WHAMFFFFF! A jet of flame engulfed the elf's head; its hands went up as if to put it out, only to catch fire themselves; another instant and the flames had raced all the way down to the floor. It seemed to be dancing an angry jig. Jovie lowered her makeshift flamethrower long enough to raise a boot and shove the flaming elf hard in the chest. It stiffened and fell over backwards, partially blocking the gap.

Another elf nonetheless appeared, hesitating as it seemed to look for a way around its burning companion. Jovie wasn't taking any chances -- she stepped to one side of the quickly-charring elf-corpse and flick-snick-WHAMFFF! -- there was a bright smoky flash, flames shot up above the equipment, and Em knew another elf was toast.

Jovie backed away, looking at the crusty glowing remains of the first downed elf. "I thought the kick would put him down longer... I guess they don't have balls."

"Come on, before they find another way through." The wall of boxes got higher as they approached the end, now five boxes high; Em could just barely see over them. At the end of the row, Em stepped out first; there was the exit, maybe thirty yards away. She hoped the door wasn't locked...

The door opened.
And a short stocky silhouette stood haloed by bright floodlights beyond.

An elf stepped into the pale green light of the bakery.
Followed by another.
Two more stood behind them.

Em stopped dead in her tracks.

Jovie strode past Em, raising lighter and hairspray. "Come on, Em. We can take 'em."

But when two more, and three more, and two more elves pushed their way through the door, Jovie stopped. And started backpedalling.

One by one, the elves' heads pivoted to fix on Emmeline.

But these elves didn't seem so aggressive. They just stood there, cocking their heads to one side or the other, as if trying to understand what they were seeing.

"Em!" Jovie shouted.

Em shook her head clear; she joined Jovie in a hasty retreat behind the box wall. Em knocked one of the boxes over rounding the corner, losing her balance and falling on it. She looked up; Jovie stood over her, flamethrower at the ready, her head whipping back and forth.

Em picked herself up. The elves were fanning out, cutting off any chance of the girls getting to the door at the other end.

She expected them to attack, but they didn't. And that scared Em even more.
It meant they weren't just mindless sugar-zombies. They *understood*.
They understood that Em was trying to escape, and that they were all that stopped her. They understood that she had a weapon, and they understood its range. They understood that they only needed to wait for their comrades to overwhelm her.
They understood that it was only a matter of time.

The door slammed shut.
The elves surged forward.
Alex stepped into his swing.

The first impact made a gritty crunching sound. From the feel of it, Alex thought he'd broken the bat, but the misshapen chunk that slapped against the window blinds was too big for that.
And the elf in front of Alex had no head.
Alex regained his balance and gave the elf-body a quick hip-check; it fell over, writhing on the floor.

Another elf lunged for his legs; Alex deftly sidestepped and brought the bat down one-handed against its back; the vibration through the timber nearly made him drop it, but he held on. The elf lurched and lost its footing.

Alex brought the bat back up and took another vicious swing, this time connecting with two elves' shoulders. It sent the pair careening sideways toward the windows, but Alex didn't have time to watch the result -- at least two more elves had ducked in beneath his swing and were wrapping themselves around his torso. They actually helped keep him from losing his balance; he was able to lean into them, straighten up quickly, and bring around a left-handed swing into the back of an elf's head, sending it crashing to the floor.

Alex looked to his right. Chester had a bat of his own -- he'd grabbed one of the creatures by the arm and was swinging it around in a circle, thumping one elf up against an office wall, then another through an office doorway, and pancaking a third. Each impact slowed his swing, but he just grunted and pulled harder. He'd gone a full 360 and then some before a knot of elves proved too thick. Three or four quickly jumped him from behind. Chester staggered but kept his feet, driving himself backwards, toward the center of the room and the broken-down desk. He body-slammed his attackers into the high side; they squirmed and fell away.

But not all of the elves were trying to bring the pair down; some were just trying to get around them and reach the door where Jovie and Em had escaped. "Chester, the door!" Alex shouted. Three elves had squirted between Alex and the desk and had a clear shot to the door. Alex was wrapped up by a growing cluster of the sandy-fleshed monsters -- he couldn't pursue. Chester was closer, and he was free of unwanted riders...

Two more of the gray-skinned things had end-run Chester, and were hurrying to join their companions in the chase for the girls. Chester wheeled around, lowered his shoulder, and charged right at them like a linebacker, throwing a vicious elbow at the first one and driving it into the second, sending both bouncing into an office. Chester's momentum was slowed enough by the impact that he avoided slamming into the office wall, instead planting his hand and pushing off, angling toward the three lead runners.

Alex spun around the other way to see the door, zinging the bat around for another unaimed swipe at any would-be attackers, but the weapon found nothing but air.

The first of the elves to reach the door already had its ugly gnarled hands on the doorknob, and the next two were already pushing against the door...

Alex heard a deafening Crack! -- a sound so loud he felt it smack his ear, leaving a vacuum of silence in its wake. The backside of the first elf seemed to ripple and shudder; the door in front of the creature got suddenly darker. Another Crack! wrinkled the air; the elf's shoulders sagged around a weird depression in the small of its back, and its head lolled forward and then seemed to sink straight down into its chest. The elf fell against the door and seemed to collapse in place, until the shoulders settled onto the hips. One leg twitched, but it was otherwise still.

Another elf came in from the right, reaching for the doorknob; another Crack! sounded, and it jerked suddenly sideways, a chunk of its side splattering the wall with a brackish goo. Its hands fell as it sagged against the wall, but after a moment's pause it straightened up and reached for the knob again. The next Crack! saw the side of its head spit a viscous mess on the window. Its hands fumbled for the knob, but couldn't seem to find it.

The two elves that had been pushing against the door straightened up in unison. One of them leaned into its collapsed comrade and shoved it clear of the door; the other stepped back and reached over the first one's head for the doorknob...

But this was the last that Alex saw of their attempts. He felt the sandpaper grip of an elf grapple his bicep and yank down, unwinding him. Alex twisted and dropped his shoulder to try to break free, letting go of the bat with that hand. The attacker began to slide off, twisting Alex's coat around. Alex felt more hands around his shoulders, grabbing at his coat, trying to pull him down; they were getting heavy...

Alex lost count of Chester's shots; he wasn't even sure if he was still hearing new shots or ringing echoes. He fell to one knee under the strain of the elf-pile, and they had a hold of his other arm now, but somehow he managed to keep it held high. He knew if he let go of the bat he was lost; if he could somehow keep them from getting it...

He felt something grab the bat -- *no*! -- but then he felt it lifting up; it had to be Chester, the elves weren't that tall. The elves around his legs went slack one by one as shot after shot rang out; Alex hauled himself back to both feet, throwing his shoulders back, reaching around his torso, tearing at the vile things' sandy little arms. Alex felt Chester lean against him; he too wore a multiple-elf backpack, but they were both still standing. Chester had stopped shooting, but he pressed the barrel against a loose elf's head and Alex heard and smelled a sizzle before the thing caught fire. Alex thought for a moment that they would all go up in a final blaze, but the burning elf staggered away from them, out of the line of sight.

"To your right on three," Chester huffed. Alex wasn't sure what he meant. "One, two, *three*!" Chester leaned hard to the side, so Alex did the same. The cluster of men and monsters shifted; Alex felt it begin to pivot -- Chester was trying to *go* somewhere. Alex leaned into it, driving with his legs, and the pack started moving, picking up speed until they were nearly *running*...

...and then KaWhump! slammed into a wall. Elf-grips slackened for just a moment, but it was enough. The group broke apart, Alex and Chester each twisting and leaning back *hard* into the wall. Alex felt his riders slide off him as the window blinds fell down on him; he staggered forward to get clear of them. One elf still had itself wrapped around his waist, but Alex just jammed the bat down between them and pried the thing loose, then raised his foot and kick-stomped it in the head; it went flying back and splatted against the edge of the desk, bent in a way that people didn't bend.

Alex looked to Chester; he was free of his attackers as well, at least for the moment. One reached up from the floor only to have Chester step on its neck; its hands wrapped the man's ankle. Chester looked around, and motioned toward the door. "While we still can!" he yelled. Alex quickly stepped around him, while Chester ejected his clip and pulled another one out of his pants pocket. "Last one!" He leaned down and plugged the ankle-grabber right in the face; its head seemed to flatten, and what looked like motor oil squirted out like a halo in a Middle Ages church painting; its grip slackened and Chester kicked himself free.

Alex was first out the door. He gave a swift kick in the chest to the nearest elf, sending it somersaulting backwards down the catwalk, and swung the bat around one-handed to stun the elf unfortunate enough to be standing to his right. Chester was right behind Alex, backing his way out of the room, squeezing off rounds in pairs.

There were several elves down the length of the catwalk, though they appeared to be in disagreement over which way to go -- some were moving toward the stairs, others were coming up the stairs to meet them. Alex doubted the confusion would last long. They could hardly go back the way they came -- Chester would be out of ammo in a few seconds, and then it was just a matter of how quickly the little fuckers could get through the doorway.

That left... jumping.

Alex looked over the catwalk rail. There was a group of eight or ten pipes running in parallel horizontally just a few feet out and a few feet down from the catwalk. Beyond them was the stainless-steel top of a round cauldron-thing. It beat just standing here...

Chester looked over his shoulder and saw where Alex was looking. "Go!" he shouted.

Alex slipped under the rail, took a deep breath, and jumped.

He hit the pipes hard -- they rang like bells, but they held. Momentum pushed Alex into a controlled fall from the pipes to the piece of equipment just beyond and below it; the top crinkled like a cookie sheet. Alex looked up and saw Chester at the edge of the catwalk, ready to jump; Alex rolled clear, and heard another clang and another crinkle, and Chester lay next to him.

Alex hurt all over, but he knew they only had seconds before the elves figured it out. He rolled over and peered over the edge of... whatever they were on. It was only another five feet or so to the bakery floor, with a sturdy handle just over the edge. Alex lowered himself over the side and felt his feet touch the floor. Chester followed a moment later.

They looked around to get their bearings.

To their far right was the row of mixers. Past them and right again would be the door to the front lobby. Straight ahead was a tangled mass of disheveled machinery -- it hadn't looked this bad from upstairs. Off to the left somewhere, the girls were hopefully reaching the exit.

Hopefully wasn't good enough for Alex.

The trouble was there were at least a dozen candy-coated nasties between them and where the girls should be. So they'd have to take the long way around...

"Hey, look what I found."

Chester was kneeling several feet away, in the middle of an open space.
The axe lay at his feet.

So things were fucked, but they weren't *completely* fucked.
They had the axe. Now all they had to do was get out alive, and make sure that Em and Jovie had done the same.

Em slid down against the boxes; it seemed hopeless. They were surrounded. And all they had to defend themselves was a can of hairspray and...

Premium Macaroons.

The brightly-colored package peeked out from the crinkled cardboard box she'd fallen on. Mom's psycho-happy face beamed joy and intimidation. The coconut cookies looked like snowballs, pale white against a pink-hued background, surrounded by confetti. A disembodied hand was reaching for one of the snowball-cookies; it made them look huge, like the size of a baseball. Surely it was a child's hand? No... The cookies weren't really that big, were they? No wonder Mom was out of business.

The cookies on the package seemed to glisten. Em wondered if they were sticky. She'd never actually had a macaroon, not the real bakery kind. When Em was little she'd seen them in a magazine at the doctor's office, and for weeks she wouldn't shut up about "the snowball cookies." Her mom had tried to make them a couple of times, but the coconut always burned...

"Em, what are we gonna do?" Jovie's voice trembled.

They were going to burn cookies.

Emmeline yanked out a package of cookies. "Open these," she said. She got up, looking down the long row of boxes. Where'd that... there it was. "I'll be right back."

Em dashed down the wall, back to the gap between machines where Jovie had barbecued a pair of elves and effectively blocked others from reaching them.

There it was... the glove. Emmeline grabbed it. She started to head back toward Jovie, but stopped. She reached into the gap, feeling the heat of the still-burning elves, and pulled out the chunk of sheet metal.

"Can't make cookies without a cookie sheet."

Em ran back down the row of boxes; Jovie was looking at her like she was insane. "What the hell are we gonna do with that?"

Em dropped the tray on the floor. "We can use that as a shield." It just seemed that it would come in handy somehow.
"I told you I don't have enough hairspray to get through all of them."
Em saw that Jovie hadn't opened the cookies; she leaned down and snatched up a package, tearing it open with her teeth and spilling its contents -- four round white furry-looking balls as big as her fist -- along the top of the box wall.

Em slipped on the glove and grabbed one of the cookie-balls. "Gimme the lighter."
Jovie handed it over. Em flick-snicked a flame and held it under the cookie. Nothing happened for a moment...

...and then the cookie caught fire.

"Duck," Em said.
Jovie ducked.
Em drew a bead on the middle one in a group of three elves near the outer wall, cocked her arm, and threw.

The cookie arced lazily toward the elves. Em's aim sucked, but the flaming macaroon managed to smack the lead elf in the arm.
And it stuck.

The elf waved its arm wildly as it backpedalled, bumping into its companions. A moment later, flames swarmed over them; they seemed to vibrate for a few moments, then hunkered over and collapsed into an ad-hoc funeral pyre.

But Em was hardly finished. She grabbed another macaroon and held it over the lighter's flame.

"You throw like a girl," Jovie needled.
"Shut up. I'm just not left-handed."
"I am. Gimme that thing."

But Em already had this one lit; she wheeled around, looking for the next-closest target. She gave it her best shot, but the little fireball fell at the thing's stoney feet. It jumped back quickly, avoiding incineration.

"Here," Em said, shucking the glove.
"Use the hairspray to light 'em," Jovie suggested, "it'll go faster."

Em wasn't sure she could do it without blowing herself up. "I don't know how."
"Easy." Jovie swept her arm across the top of the wall, knocking the two remaining macaroons off; they fell with a sticky splat onto the chunk of sheet metal. "Get another package," she said as she grabbed the spraycan and lighter, "hurry." Em tore open another package and smacked it down inverted on the tray, bringing the total to six. Jovie knelt down, and showed Em how to hold the lighter and spraycan. "Keep the lighter below the spray; if it doesn't catch right away, move it up until it does. Try it."

Em grabbed both Aqua-Net and Zippo, aimed, cocked her head to the side to check the nozzles' relative position carefully, aimed again... She flicked the lighter, and when the flame settled, she squeezed down on the spray nozzle...

"Woah!" Three of the cookies burned brightly. She gave a second shot, sweeping across the tray as she did. Whamfff! Now they were all lit. Jovie grabbed one and they both stood up.

"Can you throw?" Em asked.
Jovie stepped back; her whole body wound itself up, her front foot lifting off the floor. Her upper body leaned, shoulders turned, elbow flicked, and hand blurred forward.
Em's head snapped around as her eyes found and then followed the pyro'd projectile as it streaked across the room, hammering an elf in the face. At first Em thought the fastball had snuffed itself, but a heartbeat later the elf found itself at the center of a roaring fire.

Jovie nodded with satisfaction. "Starting pitcher, JV baseball -- until I started to fill out." She grabbed another flaming cookie. "But I can still bring the heat."

"This way," Alex said, "we can loop around left there and flank 'em."
Chester raised an eyebrow, as if he thought Alex was giving an order -- but then he shrugged. "Good idea, assuming we don't run into more elves."
"Well, it's not like we can go back the way we came..." At that, they heard shuffling behind them.
"Fuck," Chester cursed.

The pair broke into a run, down the row of mixers, until they reached the "flour lane" -- a straight shot to the base of the boxy flour silo, marked by those squat rounded concrete pillars. From memory, Alex knew the space beyond the silo was mostly clear -- nowhere for more elves to hide...

...and yet something wasn't right.
It was the smell. Overwhelmingly sweet, like too-ripe cherries, or maybe prunes...

Alex saw movement ahead -- something hiding behind one of the pillars? No, the pillar itself, it... shifted. At first Alex thought it was just because he was running, but then one just a few yards ahead shifted as well. And then another on the other side... it was like they were all starting to fall over... but...

Chester had a few steps on him. The man suddenly straightened up, boots squealing as he skidded to a stop.

Alex did the same when he saw it:

One of the pillars had arms.

They all began shifting now, thickening, splitting to form arms and legs, taking on a more familiar and terrifying shape.

There had to be at least fifty of them, ahead and behind.

Fuck.

"RRRAAARHH!" Chester yelled; the axe wound up over his shoulder as he stepped toward the elf to his left. The axe's weight was apparent as the head swung slowly up and around, then came down with frightening speed, cleaving the elf crossways from collar to rib. The blade stuck for a moment, but when Chester pulled, the elf split open and its head and right shoulder folded backwards.

Alex saw the next elf in line, to Chester's right, start for him. "Look out!" Chester pivoted a half-step to his right, choking up on the axe-handle and driving its bottom end into his attacker's face. The elf's feet came out from under it and it landed Smack! on its back. Chester took off on a run, through the breach in the elves' line; Alex started after him.

A piece of equipment with a long conveyor belt loomed ahead. Chester neatly planted a hand and scissored himself up to the conveyor and over the other side. Alex was just a few steps behind, taking a more conservative and less-graceful head-on jump-push-scramble to get up. But before he could jump down the other side, Chester was backpedalling. Alex looked out and saw a half-dozen elves heading their way, their wet skin glistening greenish-black in the mercury light.

Shit.

With elves on both sides, they took off on a scrambling run down the conveyor belt.

From here it looked like the row of equipment ran uninterrupted right to the base of the scissor lift. Maybe they could climb it; maybe there was a hatch to the roof...

They jumped over a low-bridging machine and ducked through a web of pipes and nozzles, all the while avoiding the grabby gritty-gray hands of jumping, reaching elves.

Up ahead was a taller metal box covering the conveyor. Chester shoulder-rolled up and over it; Alex did his best to emulate the move, nearly falling off the other side. They were almost to the scissor-lift now...

...but the conveyor didn't go that far.

Chester stood at the end of the conveyor; Alex pulled up next to him. It was another fifteen feet to the towering lift -- and the interceding space swarmed with elves. They looked back the way they came; elves were being heaved up onto the conveyor, blocking any retreat.

Alex felt his foot suddenly yanked out from under him. He went down hard, the impact ringing out with a metallic bang. Chester leaned to his side and swung the axe one-handed like a pendulum. Alex heard a wet crunching sound, and the grip on his ankle slackened; he flipped over and pushed himself to his feet.

"Up there," Chester said, pointing to the box they'd just climbed over. "We can hold them off."

But they both knew better.

Jovie wound up and unleashed another fireball, this time at the elf closest to the door, beaning it in the chest. The elf tried to smother the fire with its hands, but they too flamed up, and a moment later, it was engulfed.

The remaining elves scrambled for cover. A couple of them crouched behind a spool of shrink wrap; one tilted up a wooden pallet as a shield; two others ducked behind the walk-in refrigerator. The last one was in the open. It took a step or two for the refrigerator, but seemed to think better of it, spinning around and scurrying for the back door.

Jovie grabbed another cookie. This time she had a moving target; she just missed, her fireball whizzing just behind its head. Her second try was dead-on, but the sticky confection flamed out before impact. It looked like the bugger was going to get out clean -- the door opened, and the creature darkened to a silhouette, one step away from safety, when a glowing fastball creamed it in the small of the back. The elf stumbled out of sight, but the bright flash on the door just before it closed told the girls that Jovie had scored another hit.

She grabbed the last cookie, and took aim at the one behind the wooden pallet.

"Jovie, that pallet won't burn like they do."
"I know," Jovie said, feinting a throw. "That's not what I'm aiming at."
Suddenly she swiveled right, her arm snapping forward in a blur; flames streaked toward the corner of the refrigerated room. She'd caught an elf sneaking a peek -- the fireball drilled it right in the face, knocking it back against the wall. Instantly covered in flame, the creature staggered and slumped out of sight. A second blast of orange-white light reflected off the wall, signalling the demise of its partner as well.

Jovie's glove had enough sticky residue that it flamed on its own. "Grab a couple more packages," Jovie said, "I'm gonna clear us a path outta here."

Moments ago, getting out alive seemed a lost cause.
Now it just felt like losing everything that mattered.

Em grasped at the wisp of a hope that Chester and Alex had somehow escaped the elfin horde in the office and would be waiting for them outside.

But then she heard a commotion. She ran to the other end of the box-wall and peered around the machinery...

...and saw Chester and Alex standing on the end of a conveyor belt leading nowhere, with a surging tide of gray bodies all around them.

Jovie turned pale. "Oh my God, there's like a hundred of 'em..."
"We have to do something," Em said.
"They're all packed in so tight... if we hit 'em with a fireball, they'll *all* go up." Including Chester and Alex...

Emmeline reached down and ripped open the nearest box of macaroons.
"Em, what are you doing?"
She tore at the packages in the top layer until she had most of them open. She kicked off her heels and stuffed them in her coat pockets. "Jovie, see that fence over there?"
Jovie looked over Em's shoulder. From the refrigerator to the far wall ran a low barricade of cyclone fencing, with an open gate at the far end. "Yeah?"

Em grabbed the taller girl's ungloved hand, and planted the lighter in it. "Wait until I'm on the other side of it. And try not to hit me."

And with that, Emmeline strode boldly out into the open.

Alex stomped another elf in the face; as it fell back, it reached up, fingers just slipping off Alex's foot. Everywhere he looked, another elf was reaching -- and the clever little things had formed a pyramid on Chester's side; he'd hacked off four limbs in as many seconds, but he couldn't keep swinging that big axe forever...

"Hey!" someone shouted.
It sounded like... Em?

Alex looked up. It *was* Emmeline. She was out in the open; somehow the elves hadn't noticed her yet.

But she wasn't running.

Emmeline saw Alex and Chester fighting off the elves from the top of a squat metal box near the end of the conveyor. And she saw they were losing. Em didn't know if the little devils just wanted the axe or if they would have gone after the two men anyway.

But she knew there was something they wanted more.

"*HEY*!" she screamed, walking further, into the middle of the empty floor. "What are you fuckers, *deaf*?"

"Em, don't!" Alex warned. "Just go!"

But Emmeline Winter wasn't going anywhere. Not until she had the elves' undivided attention.

A few of the elves turned around; they cocked their heads to the side. Then more turned toward her, and more, movement and then stillness rippling through the crowd of short beasts as they each shifted their attention to the young defenseless woman standing out in the open.

They seemed... perplexed.

This was the last Winter. And she wasn't afraid of them.

"That's right," she snarled. "You know I'm the one you want. So come and get me!"

A few elves broke away from the pack, stepping forward. Three, four, five of them, from different parts of the pack, the ones furthest from the middle staying wide to cut her angle of escape...

...but Em held her ground, her blood boiling. It was going to take a lot more than five of them.

"Only *five* of you?" she huffed. She lunged at the middle one; it jumped back. "What's the matter, you afraid of a *girl*? Come on, motherfuckers! I'm right here!"

More elves began to pull away from the mechanical island, stepping cautiously toward the defiant woman.

Em began to step back, drawing them out. "That's right, you can't kill me! You tried and I'm still here!"

They moved as one organism now, spreading out evenly, shifting and extending around her like an amoeba. Em watched them recede from the equipment. They were getting close now, less than twenty feet away. She glanced toward Jovie; the busty-but-lanky girl was coiled tightly, ready to fire...

"You don't belong here! You're in *my* world! And I'm gonna send every last one of you fuckers back to hell!"

The elves surged.

Em turned and ran.

She was on the fence in a flash, hitting the bar with one hand and kicking over it. She landed in a crouch, then sprang forward, sprinting for the door in the corner.

Jovie saw Em leap over the fence; the stripper-turned-flamethrower let her weapon fly. It screamed over the heads of the nearest elves and sank into the crowd; a blast of blue-white flame leaped up, then a bright-orange blaze blew a hole in the swarm. But the elves kept surging forward, pressing against the fence, compressing themselves toward the corner...

Two elves got through the gate, but Em was ready. She lowered a shoulder and charged, driving into them hard, legs pumping, slamming them up against the wall, bouncing off them and up against the door.

She found the doorknob, squeezed, and turned, leaning into the door...

...it started to open...

...and slammed up against something outside.

Em stepped back and threw herself against the door; it banged but didn't budge.

It was only open a couple of inches; Emmeline could see the light of her escape, but she couldn't reach it.

More elves were through the gate now; the first one lunged at her, but she dodged backwards and it slammed against the door. The second one grabbed for her waist; Em gave it an elbow to the chin, and broke away running.

The dock was still clear, but the other side of the fence was pressed with elves trying to get a leg up, and more hovered anxiously behind them. Em ran for the open refrigerator door, knowing it was a dead end, but knowing there was nowhere else to go.

Jovie saw Em hit the door -- and bounce off. Jovie's heard skipped a beat. When Em started running back the other way, Jovie knew it was up to her.

She hurled a fireball toward the near end of the fence, catching an elf just as it had hoisted itself up; the elf fell back, landing on the one behind it; the burst of flame from their ignition was enough to catch a third one, which caught a fourth. Unfortunately, the resulting bonfire effectively cut off Em's best escape route.

Worse, several elves broke away from the pack and charged right at her. Jovie picked off one, and then a second one, but the third one reached her before she could grab a third cookie. Jovie backpedalled as the thing grappled with her, until her back was against a machine; she kneed the fearsome little beast, breaking its grip, and then shoved it in the face with her flickering glove. It caught fire, but kept coming at her. Jovie screamed, jumping back and raising a foot and stomping it viciously in the chest. The flaming elf staggered, stopped, and then fell over backwards.

Another elf peeled off and took a run at her. Jovie realized she was separated from her ammo. She turned and ran, spotting the can of hairspray at the end of the box wall. The elves from outside who'd been cowering just a few moments earlier suddenly gave up their cover and charged, realizing that Jovie couldn't hit them from a distance now.

Jovie reached the end of the box-wall first, plucking the can off its perch, her momentum carrying her to the building wall. She raised a high-heeled boot and planted it against the wall to stop herself, then pushed off and backpedalled away from the invading elves, holding the can up, flick-snicking the lighter...

Whamfff! The jet caught one on the top of the head; it knew it was doomed, but it took a full second to catch fire. The other two pushed it away, and tried reversing course, but Jovie swung the can around and sprayed a jet of flame across their shoulders. She let off the trigger long enough to turn and draw a bead on the elf from the horde. It stopped so suddenly it fell on its ass; it started crabbing backwards. Jovie caught up to it, leaned down, and shot a flaming jet right between its legs.

Jovie found her glove and picked it up. She had to get back in the fight.
She had to break open another box of ammo.
She knocked over the nearest box and sat on it, splitting the packing tape and spilling out several packages. She tore at a package, slapping its contents out on the concrete floor. She reached for the spraycan and lighter...

Jovie heard a metallic thump, like a big door slamming shut. She looked up and saw elves on both sides of the fence now, swarming around the refrigerator...

Alex watched in horror as Em bounced off the door; she was trapped! He jumped down from the conveyor, starting for the mob of elves. He'd tear them apart with his bare hands if he had to...

"Alex, wait!" Chester was still on the conveyor. "She'll be all right."
Was Chester crazy?

The man looked up at the scissor-lift. He scanned across the floor to the flour silo.

"Take cover," he said.

Take cover?

Chester leaped to the ground; in a flash, he stood at the base of the scissor-lift.
"Jovie!" he barked. "Fireball!"

Alex looked toward the far corner, where he'd seen Jovie throw... *something* that set elves on fire. Sure enough, she poked her head around the corner -- and hurled a flaming projectile right at the scissor lift. It smacked the base and splatted to the floor, still burning. Chester brought the axe around in a powerful swing; metal-on-metal impact rang out like a bell... and there was a rushing sound...

A moment later, the scissor lift's propane tank exploded.

The noise slapped Alex upside the head and knocked him flat on his back. He looked down -- well, down from his point of view, between his feet. Chester was curled up on the floor, smoke rising from his clothes. Beyond Chester, the elves had turned around momentarily at the commotion, but quickly turned their attention back to... the refrigerator? Em must have made it inside.

Then Alex noticed the scissor lift was tilted. No, tilting.
*Falling*.

Alex looked for cover, finding it behind a piece of equipment. He saw Chester crawling and then running and then diving toward him, shoving the axe ahead of him and then falling on it. Alex looked up, watching the scissor lift pick up speed as it tipped, moaning and snapping like some felled giant, until the platform finally smashed into the top of the flour silo.

And suddenly everything went white. A billowing cloud of flour dust roiled out from the impact, and small chunks of the stuff fell like ash from a volcano.

Alex heard Chester bellow, "Jovie! Fireball!"

Alex thought he knew what would happen next. He ducked and covered, expecting an explosion.

What he got felt like armageddon itself.

Something reached down from the heavens and slapped him sideways, pressing him against a crinkling metal panel. Then a bright light swallowed everything around him.

Next thing Alex knew, he was coughing up paste. His ears hurt, his eyes hurt, his face felt like he'd been in the sun too long, and he really wished someone would get the elephant off his chest.

And when his eyes could actually see something, what he saw were clouds.
Dark, thick, city-blanketing winter storm clouds.

They'd blown the fucking roof off.

Something moved his foot. Alex looked down and saw Chester uncurling a piece of sheet metal that had formed to the shape of his backside. Chester's lips moved, but Alex couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched whine.

Emmeline!

Alex tried to get up, but someone shook the world as if they were tilting a pinball machine, and Alex found himself kissing concrete. He tried calling her name, but nothing seemed to come out. The pain in his chest subsided from elephant to cafeteria lady, and he managed to get himself arranged on all fours. He lifted his head; Chester was crouched next to him, lips moving again but only making faint murmurs over the sound of the jet engines in his head.

Emmeline...

Alex forced himself to his feet, grabbing hold of... well, it didn't matter what it was that Chester handed him, as long as it held him up. The world settled into a gentle back-and-forth motion; Alex's eyes scanned all around him, looking for something familiar. What he'd first thought were distant mountains were actually fallen sections of roof. He looked up -- okay, they hadn't blown the *whole* roof off, there was just a big piece missing, like Texas Stadium only without the blimp hovering overhead flashing GO COWBOYS. The city lights to his right were actually dozens of little flaming chunks of... elf-guts. Did they have guts? Brains? Whatever their insides were, they seemed to be outside now. Like a chili contest gone bad...

So the broken-down shack on the other side of the... tin roof mountains had to be the walk-in refrigerator. Actually it didn't look so bad, just a little... squeezed.

Alex called Emmeline's name again; this time he heard it, reedy and distant, but definitely his voice nonetheless. And the jet engines had throttled back from takeoff to cruise, which allowed him to hear someone mumbling to his left. Alex turned his head, mindful of the way it made the ground shift beneath his feet, and saw Jovie crawling out from between two... well, whatever they were, they were fucked up.

But where was Emmeline?

"Emmeline!" His ears popped.
"Stop yelling," someone said. "I'm over here."

Alex looked to the right of the crinkled refrigerator-room.

Emmeline Winter sat on the floor, back against the refrigerator, arms around her knees. She held a hand up toward him. "Help me up?" But before Alex could reach her, she withdrew the request. "Never mind, you still look a little shaky."

"Thank God you're all right," Alex breathed.
"No thanks to you," she snipped, standing up on her own. "I almost got killed trying to save your ass."
Before Alex could say anything, she grabbed him by the front of his coat and pulled him against her for a sloppy lip-to-lip kiss.

She broke the kiss after a long moment and stared into his eyes. "Promise me you won't ever leave me again."
"Em, there--"
"Promise me!" she said, shaking him. Her eyes searched his desperately.
He knew she didn't mean it. He knew it was just the stress of the situation, the things -- and people -- she'd lost, the frightening brush with death.
But he would have done it anyway.
"I promise," he said softly.

"Hey!" Chester shouted from across the wreckage. "You better get out of here; the cops and stuff'll be here any second."

Alex was about to ask about the axe when he realized he was holding it.

"Hey," Em asked, "are you okay?"
He gave her hand a squeeze. "Yeah."
"Good. Let's go save the world."

She led him through a large opening; Alex realized there used to be a roll-up door there.

"Actually," he said, "if we're gonna do that, I could use some Nuprin."