Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (7 page)

“Positive.” Diego brushes his fingers across the slate. “There’s something moving under the trees. Switching to heat sensor mode.”

As the view changes, the red outline of twenty human bodies, unclothed and squirming, fills the holo. It makes Ryzaard think of chromosomes wriggling in a cell under a microscope.

“Where’s all the wreckage?” Ryzaard says. “And their weapons?”

Elsa laughs loudly. “Where are their clothes?”

“I’m getting no readings for anything made of metal.” Diego stares down at his slate. “Other than local rocks and scattered camping equipment, there’s nothing but organic material for a hundred meters around them. How is that possible?”

Ryzaard stands. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s clear he used his Stone to disintegrate anything metallic. Simple, if you know how to do it. You see his great weakness, don’t you? He’s afraid to kill. Send more troops. Comb the area and gather all the intel you can.” He walks back to his office, letting his eyes once more scan through all the glass layers of the building. “Meeting adjourned. Everyone back to work.”

“T
hat’s the last one,” Jessica says.

Matt watches as a woman in her mid-forties shoulders a small backpack and slips out of the opening. She descends in darkness down the mountainside and into the trees. A wide valley opens up under a brilliant canopy of stars.

“Hopefully, spacing them out does the trick.” Matt leans his back against a rock and stretches his arms. “Before she left, Alexa said Ryzaard probably wouldn’t waste any effort on pursuing individual hikers. He wants more high-value targets.”

Jessica drops her head onto Matt’s shoulder. “Like you and me?”

“Or large groups of the Children.” Matt looks at the sleeping form of Yarah curled up in a blanket between them. “Imagine what he would give to get his hands on her. But don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake again. I’m not going to lose Yarah like . . .”

“Leo?”

He gently pulls Jessica down so they are both lying on their backs staring up at the sky. “It was my fault he died. I put him in harm’s way when I left him and Yarah alone back on Yarah’s world. Jhata would never have come if I had stayed. I should have been able to protect Leo from her.” Both hands go up to cover his eyes. “Just like Dad. I couldn’t stop Ryzaard from killing him either.”

“But you
can
stop torturing yourself.” Jessica’s fingers find his arm and gently squeeze. “You did the best you could. You came back to Earth and saved ten million people from dying in Ryzaard’s nuclear nightmare. Leo would have agreed with that. Now, just let it go, and move on.”

“Let it go. Move on.” Matt repeats the words like a mantra. “It’s not that easy. All the people close to me end up . . .”

“No Matt.” Jessica’s hand goes over his lips. “Don’t say it. Bad karma.”

“You’re right.” Matt vents all his frustration in a single, short exhale. “Let’s spend the night here and then move on at first light.”

“Where to?” Jessica’s fingers find his hand and close tightly around it.

“I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe we could hike the Appalachian Trail.”

Jessica giggles. “All the way to Maine? With an eight-year-old?”

“It would give us good cover.” Matt looks for the orange dot of Betelgeuse above the belt of Orion. “Just another family out on a summer excursion enjoying the wonders of nature. We could take it slow all the way through autumn.”

“Why Shinto?”

Matt turns his head. “Huh?”

“Why is Ryzaard using Shinto? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Good question,” Matt says. “We know his goal. Complete takeover of the world so he’s the only one in control. Once everyone joins Shinto, I suppose he’ll use it as an instrument to manipulate the masses.”

“But
how
will he do it?” Jessica rises up and straightens the blankets on Yarah. “Brainwashing?” She throws one over to Matt.

“That’s pretty much what I’ve been seeing in the dreams. Huge gatherings of people. Mass ecstasy. Ryzaard in control.” Matt sighs as he looks up at Sirius, brightest star in the night sky. “He’s got a master plan, thinking way ahead. Unfortunately, he hasn’t shared the details with me.”

“So, what do we do?” Jessica leans over Matt, her face directly above his.

“First this.” He reaches up with both arms and pulls her down until her warm lips spread out against his. Then he gently lifts her over Yarah, depositing her on the ground next to him. “You need to rest. So do I. Hopefully, I won’t have the dreams tonight. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

With a finger, Jessica draws a line down Matt’s forehead and the bridge of his nose. “Do you think the dreams are coming from the Allehonen?”

“No idea.” Matt slides his hands under his head. “It may just be my Stone, giving me glimpses of the future. A possible future. I’ve tried to reach out to the Allehonen for contact, help, anything. Nothing but radio silence. Almost like they don’t care.” A cold chill runs down his back and turns into a tremble. “Ryzaard’s whole operation has gotten so massive. Sometimes I think he’s actually going to be able to pull it off.” He rolls over with his back to Jessica, eyes drifting shut.

A split second later, a sharp blow between his shoulder blades jars him awake and forces a cough.

“Hey, what was that all about?” Matt says.

“You,” Jessica says. “I’m not going to lie here and watch you melt into a puddle of tears.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Matt, listen to me. Don’t waste time worrying about how it’s all going to work out. It’s OK, not being able to see the whole picture from beginning to end.” The heel of Jessica’s hand caresses his spine. “Ryzaard’s tried so many times to kill you. Maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s your destiny to destroy his plan and save humankind.”

“So, I’m some kind of superhero? That’s not a very comforting thought. Too much pressure. I’d rather just . . .”

“Go back in time? Go back to just being Matt Newmark, the guy with a super-hot wife who likes to ski and climb? Not a care in the world?”

“Exactly,” Matt says. “Just a normal guy with a normal life. Is that too much to ask?”

“There’s no use wasting time hoping for what’s never going to happen.” Jessica pushes her palms into Matt’s back. His muscles go soft under her touch. “Embrace your destiny.”

“You believe in destiny, in fate?”

“I believe in you.”

M
att waits until the familiar exhale of air that means Jessica is asleep. Turning over, he watches the peaceful rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

But there’s no sleep for him. It’s been the same pattern ever since they arrived here.

He quietly sits up and moves to the ledge overlooking the valley. Pulling his knees up to his chin, he drinks in the beauty of a full moon and its glow that lights up the valley extending out below. Successive mountain ranges, one behind another, flow horizontally across his line of sight, like giant wrinkles in a lush carpet of trees. The crying of cicadas floats up, reaching a crescendo and slowly dying down to begin a new cycle. A great horned owl calls out somewhere down the slope.

Where is the Woman? Does she expect me to fight Ryzaard alone?

Matt lets his head drop between his knees. In his mind’s eye, he sees the Woman, one of the Allehonen. Bronze skin illuminated from within. Eyes like orange flames. The white robe hanging loose on a strong frame. Broad nose, generous lips, prominent cheekbones. Bare feet and delicate hands. All of it chiseled to perfection, as if from polished marble.

Where are you?

Images, familiar from prior dreams, begin to pass through his mind.

The Woman stands on a brown plain watching the warriors on black horses charge over a ridge. They lean forward in their saddles, swords hanging low to the ground. She turns back and catches a glimpse of her husband and child, standing with the other villagers behind her. As the lead warrior approaches, the Woman holds up the Stone in her hand. Lips moving in silent supplication, her eyes go skyward.

Matt’s seen the ending of this scene many times. He wants to cry out to her, tell her to run. Anything to help her avoid the inevitable conclusion.

The blade swings down in a slow arc and separates the Woman’s head from her neck and shoulders in the middle of its trajectory. Dropping silently to the dust, the Stone rolls and comes to a stop.

The warrior dismounts from his horse. With a half grin, he bends down and picks up the Stone.

Why didn’t she fight back?

The scene fades to black, rewinds and opens up again.

The Woman stands alone facing the galloping horde. With the Stone in hand, she stretches out her arm and raises it to the sky.

Matt senses the change in the air. A phase-shift.

As the lead warrior draws close, he bends forward and down to prepare his blade for contact.

Time slows.

Five meters away, the Woman’s eyes shoot open. A thin disk of brilliant light explodes out of her Stone. Its leading edge engulfs the army, a laser cutting through warriors, severing torsos, taking off limbs and heads, decapitating horses. The invaders fall in bloody heaps to the dirt.

The Woman lowers the Stone and walks forward. Mangled corpses of warrior and beast lie strewn about her. She finds the chieftain of the army dressed in black armor of hardened leather, lying on the ground, an arm and leg missing, struggling to breathe as his lifeblood pools in the dirt. His blackened sword is visible a short distance away, still grasped by the hand of the severed arm.

Bending down, the Woman pulls the sword from the dead hand, grabs it by the hilt and raises it up as she turns to face the villagers. A war whoop bursts from her lips, and she turns and thrusts the sword down through the warrior’s chest and into the sand. The warrior shudders as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. Blood dribbles out the corners of his mouth. The Woman stares down, watching him die.

A shout goes up from the villagers. They move forward into the mayhem, swarming over the fallen bodies, finding swords and spears, and finishing off the rest of the army in like fashion.

The images fade from Matt’s mind.

For the rest of the night, he dreams of a massive dark shape that stalks him through a misty forest.

When he wakes in the morning, Matt has one blanket twisted around his legs and another wrapped around his neck. His body is a tight ball of aching muscle, head throbbing, a new bruise on his arm.

“You didn’t sleep much.” Jessica says. “More dreams?”

“Dreams. Visions. I can’t tell the difference anymore.” He tells Jessica about the images of the Woman.

“The Woman and her village didn’t die this time?”

“No. Not in the second version of the dream. She used her Stone to fight back.”

“Strange.” Jessica hands him a hunk of bread from her pack. “Any idea why the dream changed?”

“Nope.” Matt chews slowly on the crust. “No idea at all. But I know where we’re going.”

“The Great Appalachian Trail?”

“New York City.” Matt gathers himself to his feet. “The time for running is over.”

M
iyazawa walks from his transport across the deep green lawn on the north side of the White House. Today is the official launch of the US campaign, and he has a busy schedule, starting with a brief meeting and photo-op with the President of the United States.