Free (The Push Chronicles (Book 2): Indefatigable by J.B. Garner

fired a quick burst of rubber bullets which had about zero effect on the rampaging cyborg teen.  A split-second later, Tank impacted dead-on with the corpse.
    Messy doesn't begin to describe the after-effects of the impact.  An arm went one way, a foot and part of the shin that way, most of the rest flew straight back from the hit.  Every piece sent a spray of blood and rotting tissue in it's wake.  I considered and denied the request to roll over and vomit continuously.  Instead I managed one complete gasping breath and sat up.
    Tank hadn't noticed my miraculous recovery as he ground his treads back and forth over the vampire's body.  It was still trying to regenerate from the horrific injuries, a disgusting display that caused my stomach to flip once again.  Medusa seemed to have better, if more painful, luck as she goaded the vampire into a bite which she blocked with her arm.  The fangs dug through her tough scales, but it put those undead eyes right up the the snake-woman's own supernatural gaze with bizarre results.  I could only watch for a moment as I tried to pick myself back up, but it was a dance of unreal forces: Medusa's gaze turning tissue to stone while the vampire's nature tried to return it to undead flesh.  It didn't matter that neither seemed to win; the constant state of flux seemed to effectively incapacitate the monster.
    "Alive," was all I could croak into the swirling mass of com chatter.  I was hurting too bad to parse the rest, though my focus was returning as I stood up.  Tank's roaring rampage of revenge stopped and he spun to look at me, eyes watering with tears.
    "Indy Indy Indy!"  The big kid would have grabbed me in a bear hug if there hadn't been there hadn't been the tell-tale clack-clack of an assault rifle's charging handle.  Instincts kicked into overdrive and I dove for the only hard cover around: Tank.  In addition to being, well, a super-cyborg, his chassis produced some kind of protective energy shield.  While it didn't exist for me, it was quite effective against all sorts of other hazards.
    Mr. Skewered-With-A-Table-Leg unleashed a full clip of ammunition in our direction.  Thank God that Tank's field had been large enough to protect the innocent drunk we had just saved from the first vamp.  The air was filled with the sparks of bullets impacting air and deflecting aside, then a brief silence.
    I took a glance over Tank's chassis just as the vampire threw his gun down.  I could read his body language.  He was about to take a hostage.  There was no way I was going to let that happen, at least that's what I told myself.  The truth is that what I tried to do was nigh-impossible, but damn if I didn't go for it.
    For the brief moment the vampire was still facing forward, as his rifle hit the ground, I hopped up on Tank's back and hurled the stake I still had in hand.  Yes, I knew exactly where the heart was and no, it was highly unlikely, even with my unleashed potential, that I could hit that mark.  However, maybe to make up for all the bad luck in my life lately, this one time Lady Luck cut me a break.
    The stake hit dead on, slipping through that one gap in the ribs and sternum where it could hit the heart without obstruction.  The creature clawed at it and, with a final look of disbelief, fell backwards, the Push shell fading away, returning it to it's natural corpse state.  The older gentleman that had been about to be eaten by Mr. Stake fainted dead away.  That was probably the safest thing he could do.
    "I'm so happy to see -" Tank tried to start again, but interrupted himself with a "holy crab cakes!"  Suddenly, his entire front end pitched up and back.  I fell off first, barely rolling clear as Tank himself toppled awkwardly back, hitting his head on a table first, then crashing sideways.  The vampire he had smashed apart and ground under his treads had managed to reassemble itself in just those few moments, standing in tattered clothes with a