Beyond Armageddon V: Fusion (68 page)

Still, the quicker they go through the runes, the better.

Apparently the Witiko had not signed on to the truce, therefore any of their kind found on Earth would be subject to immediate attack. But few of their number remained. Nina heard talk of isolated redoubts of Witiko in Alaska and some Pacific Islands but nothing concrete. Just like the alien animals and whatever remnants of Voggoth’s soulless ones remained, any isolated Witiko would be purged one way or another.

Furthermore, there were probably pockets of other militant aliens who had not heard of the truce; certainly this would lead to some awkward moments down the road. Brewer, Shepherd, and the rest worked with the extraterrestrial representatives to overcome those challenges.

No matter how hard they worked, Nina knew finishing the job would take time. Decades.

But now we’ve finally got time.

Despite a few incidents, the truce held; at least in the short term. And Nina knew in her heart that the truce came from Trevor Stone. He had engineered it. And if he had engineered it, that meant he still lived.

We’ve finally got time.

She felt the transport rock as the landing gear touched ground. Nina gathered her well-worn battle gear and joined the rest of the soldiers as they exited the craft. Vince Caesar was not among their number. He remained in a field hospital outside St. Louis receiving treatment for his leg. But he, too, had earned a trip home.

A rest.

And yes, for the first time in her life the idea of rest appealed to Nina. That idea—the idea of a break from fighting—felt strange to her. She felt—finished. Like she usually did at the end of a successful mission but this time she did not think another mission waited.

Nina exited the craft and walked across the paved landing pad. Late June had come to Annapolis and the temperature soared. The midday sun caused her to sweat, adding to her grimy, dirty feeling. She eagerly anticipated a return to her apartment.

An empty apartment.

True, for the first time in years Denise would not be there. The newlyweds had spent the last month in militia training in West Virginia preparing for Voggoth’s breakthrough. The end of the war meant Jake would complete his military education. At the same time, it appeared Denise took a fancy to flying and planned to join the Air Corps. What the future held from there? Well, time would tell.

She parted from the main flow of traffic and exited through the perimeter fence bypassing the squat, modular steel building that comprised the old Southern Command. A small paved path led southeast and merged into a walkway that paralleled Highland Beach. Despite the gorgeous day no one played on the sand or in the water. Less than a week had passed since the turn of events on the Mississippi and the details of the war’s finale remained sketchy to the general public. Most stayed home and convened around the television or radio eagerly awaiting the news. Indeed, most expected the fighting to break out again and any moment.

Nina suspected that, for most of them, the very concept of the war ending would seem too fantastic to believe. Then again, they had not ridden into battle alongside the Chaktaw or watched Centurian artillery decimate Voggoth’s army. Her proof came from participation; it would take longer for the public to trust news reports and stories.

On the far side of the short beach, the waters of the Chesapeake rolled to shore. A series of wooden posts marched out into the surf, all that remained of a dock washed away long ago. Rusted playground equipment occupied a rectangular stretch of beach. Nina hoped that in the days ahead children would emerge from their hiding spots and return to the playground and beach, but for now the nation felt on hold. As if catching its collective breath.

“Bee-u-tiful day, if I don’t say so myself.”

He sat along the walkway with both arms draped to either side of a park bench and his ancient, mysterious eyes alternated between the surf and Nina Forest.

“Probably a great day for a dip, wouldn’t you think?”

She glanced toward the water and then back at the Old Man. She noticed that despite his long-sleeve white shirt, black vest, and dusty-looking jeans she spied no signs of sweat.

He said, “Take a load off them feet. Seems to me you’ve earned a rest, ain’t that about right?”

Nina lugged her gear over the bench, rested her rifle alongside, and sat with him. Yes, it did feel good to sit but the heat still grilled down. The water—over there, across the beach—looked oh-so inviting.

She said to the Old Man, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Third times the charm, missy.”

“What happened? What did Trevor do?”

The thing that resembled an Old Man kept his attention focused on the beach while he answered, “And that’s just about the size of it, right? You’d know it was Trevor. Some kind of intuition. Guess there are some things I still need to figure out. Ol’ Trev—he’s just full of lessons. Guess it was ‘bout time folks started listenin’.”

“What’d he do?”

“Oh, I suppose the easiest way to put it is he opened up some eyes. Yeah, that’s the best way to wrap your head around it. Nothin’ like a little—a little…” the Old Man’s voice dropped for a moment. She clearly heard sadness there. “Nothin’ like a little first-hand experience to cut to the chase of the matter, I suppose.”

“What’s that mean?”

The Old Man shook his head and took a deep breath. His eyes widened and he smiled.

“Now no need to go rehashing all that. The times come to move forward, missy.”

Nina said, “I remember.”

“Figured a few of his memories would make the trip over to you when we gave him a jump start last year. Have to admit, I got a fair glimpse of a few things myself. Made a—made a…” the Old timer seemed lost in something for a moment before he found the right word. “Made an
impression.”

“Listen,” Nina corrected. “This is something more. Not just what I got from him. Stuff that belongs to
me.
From the first time The Order grabbed me—then last year, I flew an Eagle transport, but I never actually knew how. Other stuff, too. Ideas—feelings…” but she could not finish.

His eyes narrowed and the thing shaped like an Old Man told her, “Memories aren’t just in your noggin’, you know. Flying something, well, that’s probably like riding a bike; what you folks might call ‘muscle memory’. As for the stuff about Voggoth pulling that fast one on you, well, they tried to tuck that away in some dark corner of your mind before they slipped in that implant. That was bound to come out sooner or later. Honestly speaking, I don’t think they expected you to live too long so hiding it forever wasn’t part of the plan.”

“But—“

“But what? A bunch of things got all jumbled up inside that head of yours when I played London Bridge between you and ol’ Trev. Maybe something was left inside that got a jump-start when we had our little powwow. Then again, maybe you’re a little confused and whatnot.”

Nina stared at the Chesapeake Bay and assured, “I’m not confused. Not anymore. Things are pretty clear now. Tell me something. Trevor is alive, isn’t he?”

“Yeppers. He’s got a little more to get done. Probably a while before he makes his way back here. Loose ends and all. Point is, I’ve got this feeling in my gut—let’s just say—well, when you see ol’ Trevor ‘gain, there’s something I need you to tell him. Tell him I’ve got something for him. Call it—call it a gift. A
fourth
gift.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well we can’t have that, now can we? I think the time for keeping secrets has pretty much sailed off. You and I had a talk a long time ago. Laid it all out for you, I did. I didn’t know why I clued you in back then. I think—well now ain’t this somethin’? I think I wanted you to know. Maybe because I wanted to be forgived for what had to happen.”

“And now?”

“Now? Well I guess we’d better dot them i’s and cross them t’s.”

Nina watched the Old Man drift away into the light woodlands opposite the beach. As he moved off she saw more shadow and less him until she could not see him at all.

The sun glared. Her gear weighed a ton. A line of perspiration trickled from her forehead down her nose. She turned around and stared across the sandy beach at the crisp, rolling surf. How good would it feel to take a dip?

Nina left the side walk and carried her load onto the stretch of sand. Her boots sank and walking became a chore; her pack felt all the heavier.

She watched the water as it lapped against the coast in a gentle rhythm. Her mind replayed years of fighting: Her early career with the police and National Guard—confronting the first monster from another planet inside the National Constitution Center in Philly and knowing then that her world had changed—acting as Trevor’s personal sword in places like New Winnabow and Beale Air Force Base—slipping behind The Order’s lines.

Her mission. Her life. A warrior’s life. If not for Denise, she would have known nothing other than war. Being a mother unlocked much inside her. But she felt even more dwelt down there, hidden inside that lockbox of a heart. And she knew who held the key.

Captain Nina Forest turned her back to the ocean and rested her pack on the sand. She bent over, unlaced her combat boots one at a time, and then set them together next to the pack.

She slowly undid her utility belt and holster and draped them over the pack. Her sword came next: the sword she had taken from a Mutant in Wilmington, North Carolina. Although it shined clean, she could see years of blood there. How many had she killed? She could not count. They registered in her battle computer of a mind not as names or individuals, but as mission objectives and hostile forces.

She lay the sword on the sand. The sun reflected off the blade.

Her BDU’s came off, first the shirt and then the pants leaving her standing in a dark green t-shirt and matching underwear. She folded her warrior’s clothes with great care and lay them side by side with the sword and the pack and the boots.

Nina popped the cartridge from her trusty M4 and ensured a clear chamber. Then she knelt in front of the shrine that had been hers for a lifetime and she set the rifle as the centerpiece.

She gazed at the arrangement. The tools of her life. They had served her well and in turn she had served her people well. She could not discard them easily. A world without them was a world fraught with mystery; a world filled with nightmares of another kind. She would have to find a new strength. But the time had come. Her body felt covered not only in sweat and grime, but in blood.

She felt no guilt. She had fulfilled her purpose as humanity’s champion. But in the process missed out on much. The time had come—the time to find what else remained.

There is more for me.

Nina stood and swiveled around to face the bay. She took one tentative step and stopped.

One more thing.

She reached to the back of her head and undid the black band holding her ponytail in place. Her blond hair fell free and dangled to her shoulders in curly strands. She dropped the tie to the ground with the rest of her discarded things.

Nina Forest moved to the edge and allowed the water to splash against her feet. It felt cold. And clean.

She stepped in, carefully walking over a combination of rocks, sand, and pointed shells. The salty smell of the brackish waters nearly overwhelmed her senses.

Deeper—deeper—until the water reached her chest.

Nina sipped a breath of air then slipped beneath the surface. Ripples from her submersion rolled away in perfect circles, one after another after another—and then calm—calmer—perfectly still.

The sun sparkled on the water, warmed the sandy shore, and reflected off the metal of the sword and rifle at rest on the beach. A gull swooped overhead cawing enthusiastically.

She burst from the surface in a spray of water. Her hair matted wet. Droplets across her neck and arms. What little clothes she wore soaked through but she felt refreshed, clean—new.

Nina Forest stood in the water and gazed east across the Bay, over the distant Peninsula, and beyond—to a world away.

Nina stood there in waist-deep water.

And waited.

28. Armada

Trevor knew the feeling of powerlessness. The first day of Armageddon after running from the gored bodies of his parents—things felt beyond his control then. More recently, for a few moments in the temple he felt powerless and insignificant in the face of Voggoth.

But he had never experienced anything quite like that first week after leaving the land once known as Satka, Russia.

He remembered what happened to the Feranites when the self-appointed Gods of Armageddon deemed them defeated. Given the situation in North America when he departed nearly six weeks ago, Trevor feared that even Jon Brewer’s best efforts would have fallen short by now.

Based on the reaction from JB’s peers, a vote to cast humanity into the abyss might have already concluded. At any moment—one heartbeat—he could find his molecules warping into some beast built to satiate Voggoth’s taste for irony.

The Feranites had loved nature, so they became what they most despised: machines. Perhaps the Roachbots had been highly-intelligent beings, but now were forced to live in madness with the brains of other species serving as their CPUs.