by M. R. Forbes
“We…” The woman looked at the bodies Grace had left surrounding them. “I live here. Si.”
Grace holstered her pistol again, turning her back on the woman and retrieving her pack. The woman didn’t try to attack her. She didn’t move at all.
“I need a guide,” Grace said.
“A guide?”
“Are you slow or something?” Grace asked.
“I…no. I’m frightened.”
“Good. You should be. What kind of group attacks someone carrying at least four visible weapons?”
“We…I work for Señor August. We…I have to bring him back something, or he hurts me.” She turned her shoulder, pulling down a threadbare sweater and revealing skin disfigured by scarring.
“Shit,” Grace said. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Time?” The woman said.
Señor August was one of Shurrath’s. Grace was willing to bet her life on it. She sighed. She needed information. Maybe August could help her get it.
“My name’s Grace. What’s yours?”
“Sophia. Are you going to kill me?”
“If I were, you’d be dead already. Were any of these people family?”
“No. Señor August, he sends us out a group at a time, our faces already wrapped. We don’t know one another. No loyalties means no lies, no tricks. If anyone tries to run, they have to answer to the group first and Señor August second.”
“Everyone else in your group is dead,” Grace said. “You can run. Nobody can stop you.”
“No. There’s no running from him. He’ll send someone after me, and I’ll wind up with my head hanging from a pole. I have to bring him something, Señora Grace. It’s the only way. You seem kind. Maybe you can spare something for me, to save me another beating?”
“I have another idea,” Grace replied. “You are going to bring him something.”
“Oh, gracias Señora Grace. Yes, I would like to bring him something. What can you give me?”
Grace smiled. “ How about me?”
Chapter 31
Isaac didn’t slow down for two hours. Keeping the motorcycle’s throttle pegged as high as he dared, he wound his way over uneven terrain and onto the first paved surface he could find. He nearly ditched at least half a dozen times along the way, hitting ruts or bumps that almost took the front tire out from under him.
He couldn’t get away fast enough. He couldn’t go far enough. Not when he knew Camila would be right behind him with Dutch and Matthias, most likely driving the gang’s car. He hoped the obstacles he had maneuvered around would keep their pace limited. It was one thing to slip past an old wreck on a bike, another to have to either crash through it or manually move it aside to get a car through.
He wanted to head directly north, back the way the coach had come. If Hayden was following, he wanted to meet him there. He made it about ten kilometers before realizing it wasn’t going to work. While the coach was pulled by horses and generally designed to manage the off-road experience, the motorcycle was clearly built for smoother ground. The wheels were narrow and smooth. They struggled to find purchase on looser dirt, and the engine seemed underpowered or damaged, whining when it tried to get up barren hills.
The experience forced him to give up on a direct backtrack, which was why he had sought the road. If Hayden were tracking him, odds were he’d be on horseback and could manage the harder terrain. But maybe he would decide speed was more important and pick the road. If not, Isaac would get back to the UWT and get in touch with Natalia. She would know how to find Hayden and maybe they could go south better prepared.
He wasn’t sure there was such a thing as better prepared where Shurrath was concerned. And if Hayden was behind him, he had come alone for a reason. Peeling off for the road was a tough decision, and Isaac questioned himself over and over while he rode. Did leaving the countryside mean he was abandoning the sheriff who was coming to save him? He had to believe Hayden would discover he was free and divert back north. The sheriff was skilled enough to figure out he had escaped. Haven was the closest UWT city. Could they reconnect there?
Besides, maybe it was possible he had done the right thing? Hayden was tough, but he couldn’t handle Camila, Dutch and Matthias on his own. Their experience against Brute and Grace had proven that. Isaac was leading them away, back into friendly territory. They would be easier to manage there.
But what about Shurrath? The Relyeh wasn’t going to give up on his plans so easily. Without Isaac in his possession, what came next?
Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but either way they needed to be ready.
Isaac eased off the gas, the whine of the engine softening somewhat as the motorcycle decelerated to a more normal speed. He looked back over his shoulder, searching the darkness behind him for signs of pursuit. He reminded himself it wasn’t only Shurrath’s followers he had to worry about out here. The trife could be anywhere.
The road had started out heading north but had begun turning east the further he went. Isaac had been blindfolded for the first part of the trip south and had never completely gotten his bearings, but he knew the United Western Territories was on the west coast. An intersecting road had promised to take him back west, a rusted and worn sign suggesting it was forty kilometers to Tijuana.
He had been to Tijuana before the war and had crossed the border on more than one occasion. He was relieved to be so close to the UWT, while at the same time dismayed by the same fact. Although Shurrath was operating just outside Sheriff Duke’s territory, neither one had known of the other only a few weeks earlier. The two opposing sides were like a pair of livewires lying in a pool of gasoline, ready to touch and spark.
The resulting fire could grow large enough to finish burning the world.
Isaac glanced down at the fuel gauge. It was at less than a quarter, but hopefully he had enough fuel to get him the remaining distance. He wasn’t going to stop in the formerly Mexican city, but rather turn north and ride up to Dego with the hopes of finding alternate transportation there. He knew what Brute and Grace had done to the smaller settlement, but maybe that meant a car, truck, horse or otherwise had been left behind. He wasn’t picky. Hell, he would walk if he had to.
The road through the barren landscape proved not to be a well-traveled route, at least not since the war. He passed an abandoned truck every so often. Trailers with doors hanging open had been picked clean a long time ago, ancient refuse scattered around them. Otherwise the path was surprisingly clean.
It took only another forty minutes to cover thirty kilometers, leaving Isaac closing in on the city. He worried a little when the road began to cut south again, but quickly overcame his concern when his headlight revealed an old interchange ahead, one branch of the road breaking off to the south, the other continuing west.
His moment of relaxation was short-lived. A few seconds more and his headlight revealed a building in the center of the interchange, a metal and stone construct, windowless and cold. Scaffolding rose from the top of it, dirty and rusted, a ladder built into the side. His eyes traced the metal bars to the top, to a metal platform lined with antennae stretching another dozen meters into the darkness.
Even thought Isaac couldn’t see anyone, he knew someone had to be perched on the platform, looking down at him.
It didn’t take long to get close enough to see people emerging from the building, all carrying guns. An engine rumbled, and a spotlight hit him from the top of a large modded pickup truck that had been hidden in the darkness to his right.
The red eye of a laser targeting system came to rest on the motorcycle headlight. A shot rang out and the headlight shattered. The laser quickly moved to Isaac’s chest, painting him as the next target.
Isaac didn’t need another warning. He eased off the throttle, bringing the motorcycle to a stop a few dozen meters from the checkpoint. The guards were already rushing out to meet him, weapons raised and ready to take him down if he resisted.
Resist? With what? He
had the microspear, but he didn’t even have a gun.
He climbed off the bike and raised his hands.
Were these people with Shurrath or someone else?
Did it matter?
He was caught.
Again.
Chapter 32
Cyrus slid his finger through the dirt, tracing the slight depressions made by the motorcycle on its way past. He knew from the shape and depth of the tread that the machine was moving north, away from Walton. Comparing it to the second motorcycle the justice had in her stock, he was sure it was Isaac.
His mouth extended at the corners into a slight smile. He had always respected Sergeant Pine, while at the same time had often found himself questioning why a man with such obvious abilities limited himself to guard duty. What he had told Camila was true. Isaac could have been a Ranger if he had put the effort in. But he was a family man, dedicated to his wife and children. In all honesty, he should have died with them, all of those years ago. But something, some twist of fate, some curse, some luck of the draw had made him special. Immune to the Axon Intellect. Immune to the one weapon that held the Hunger at bay.
For now.
The Axon was a dying race. Shurrath believed, and so Cyrus believed, that the few remaining organic Axon knew it. The number and volume of their attacks had diminished, their strategy reduced to sending torpedos through wormholes and into the sides of the Relyeh masterships in pathetic attempts to destroy the massive vessels. They couldn’t win the space war. Once the hallucination problem was solved they would also lose the ground war. Shurrath understood how valuable that solution was. How valuable Isaac was. He was the key to expanding Shurrath’s resurgence beyond a single planet and restoring the ancient Relyeh to his place at the table with his brothers and sisters. Fortune had favored him, first in allowing him to escape to this world and then providing Isaac.
For Cyrus, it had been a long wait. For Shurrath, hardly any time at all.
He had told Shurrath he should be the one to recover Isaac. Camila was loyal, and she had done well with her training, but she wasn’t a natural warrior. She was too emotional. Too compassionate. Orsk was the most compatible khoron to her, but that only compounded the problem. Shurrath believed Alexander would keep Camila in line.
But Alexander was gone. Dead, though they weren’t sure how. Was Sheriff Duke responsible?
Cyrus hoped he would have a chance to meet the sheriff. Duke reminded him of himself.
Shurrath wanted Cyrus on the hunt for signs of his brother’s coming. The rumors had been in the wind for some time. Nylarth had designs on Earth and was making preparations. What Cyrus had discovered was limited in usefulness. Yes, Nylarth knew of Earth and had some level of interest in taking the planet and its people as his own. No, there were no immediate plans to interfere. It was a benefit to Shurrath that Nylarth was the most cerebral of his siblings. He rarely acted without considerable forethought, treating the Hunger’s expansion more like a game of chess than a tidal wave.
Camila had failed, as Cyrus feared she would. And here he was.
He stood up, glancing back at Dutch and Matthias. “He cut west here, heading for the road. I’m going to follow him. I want you two to continue north.”
“North?” Matthias asked. “Why?”
Cyrus was on Matthias before the other man could move, grabbing him from behind and throwing him roughly to the ground. He fell on the man’s back, putting a microspear over his khoron.
“Why are you questioning me, Matthias?” Cyrus asked calmly. “Was Camila truly so lax that you believe you have any say in anything?”
“I…I’m sorry, sir,” Matthias said. “Forgive me.”
Cyrus stood up, returning the spear to his belt. He flashed his attention to Dutch. “You’re both fortunate to be alive considering the extent of your failure. You have one option. Go north, find Sheriff Duke and kill him, or die. Either by my hand or his.”
“Sheriff Duke killed Alexander,” Dutch said.
“Yes.”
Dutch didn’t say anything else, but Cyrus knew what he was thinking. “At least you have a slim chance,” he said. “I’ll give you none.”
“Yes, sir,” Dutch said. “Thank you.”
“Why are you still standing here?” Cyrus asked. “Get back on your horses and go.”
“Yes, sir,” Matthias said, looking at Dutch. They retreated to where two horses stood grazing, each taking one and climbing into the saddle. They both glanced back at Cyrus and then began riding away.
Cyrus closed his eyes, reaching into the Collective.
Don’t even think about changing course. We’re watching you.
He opened his eyes. Matthias and Dutch were both looking back at him with pale faces.
Cyrus turned away from them. Shurrath had been with him for nearly a hundred years. Shurrath had changed him. He was still human. At least, he still thought of himself as human. But the changes to his DNA were impossible to refute. Having a god living inside him had given him enhancements he would never have imagined before Valentine sent him through the portal.
Direct access to the Collective was the least of them.
He reached up, rubbing at his suddenly tear-stained eyes. He could never put his mind back to Valentine, back to Dugway, without some part of his subconscious thinking of Grace. He knew what Shurrath had tried to do to her. It was the one thing he would never agree with. It was the one trace of humanity he refused to let go of. He knew Grace would attempt to kill him if they ever met. After all, that’s what he had told her to do. That’s why he had tried so hard to stay out of her way.
Because when they did meet again, when she did try to end his life, he would have no choice but to murder his own daughter.
Chapter 33
“I’ve been waiting,” Max said.
Hayden turned his head, glancing down at the Intellect from Zorro’s back as it walked beside them. “Waiting for what?”
They had left the Pilgrim two days earlier, maintaining a southwest heading over the mountains. Like before, they hadn’t spoken much, save for the occasional question from Hayden regarding the operation of the Skin or the rare statement from Max that he believed they were headed in the right direction. Hayden didn’t know why Max had chosen to try to talk to him now. Nothing had changed in the last two hours.
“Waiting for you to tell me about the device in your pocket,” Max replied. “Hahaha. Haha.”
Hayden raised an eyebrow, realizing the Axon AI was referring to the key he had taken from the portal. His hand slipped over the pocket, feeling for the device.
“I don’t have to tell you a damn thing, Max.”
“Understanding. However, I require confirmation that you understand what you are carrying.”
“I don’t have to confirm a damn thing, either.”
“Hahaha. Haha. Sheriff, the device contains a piece of an Axon Quantum Dimensional Modulator. A superconducting nano-nodule.”
“English?” Hayden said.
“The QDM is composed of billions of nodules, which store the power generated through the modulating rift by instantiating nth dimensional pockets.”
“I said English, Max.”
“Simplification. It is an extremely powerful battery.”
“Okay.”
“It was collected from a larger energy unit.”
“Okay.”
“The detachment of the nodules from the main QDM and its associated safeguards threatens the integrity of the battery. It is possible the nodules are destabilized.”
Hayden considered the statement for a moment. “Wait a second. You’re saying I’ve got a bomb in my pocket?” Was that why General Haeri had kept the key on Earth?
“Affirmation. With enough potential energy to level a thousand-kilometer radius from the detonation point. Hahaha. Hahaha.”
“And you waited two fucking days to tell me this?”
“You are difficult to speak to.”
Hayden narrowed his eyes, st
aring angrily at the Intellect. “I’m only difficult for you to speak to. If you wanted me to be nice, you shouldn’t have beaten Rain to death.”
“Agreement. It isn’t advisable to allow Shurrath access to the battery.”
“Probably not, but it’s a little late for that. If you had told me back at the Pilgrim, I would have left it there.”
“Perhaps. I have been processing. It occurred to me that if I were to take the battery from you and detonate it, the probability of destroying Shurrath is over ninety percent.”
“You’ve been thinking about taking it from me?”
“It is the logical course of action.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Uncertainty. I’m not convinced the logical path is the correct one. Hahaha. Haha.”
“Ninety percent sounds pretty good.”
“Agreement. However, not only would I also be destroyed, but all opposition to the Relyeh would be destroyed as well.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“But the battery would be more secure in my possession. I can ensure its stability.”
Hayden laughed. “I see. You want me to give you the key for safekeeping.”
“Affirmation.”
“And why would I trust you with what is essentially a massively powerful explosive?”
“That is my dilemma as well, Sheriff. Hahahaha. Haha.”
Hayden looked ahead again, riding in silence.
“Sheriff?” Max said a few minutes later.
“I’m thinking about it,” Hayden replied.
“I require your trust.”
“No, you don’t. If you wanted my trust, Rain would still be alive.”
“It was Shurrath I attacked. Shurrath I subdued.”
“Not in the end. You killed Rain, not Shurrath.”
“It would have been Shurrath again. A trick, Sheriff. A deception. A mistake. I’m trying to rectify it.”
“How is it with Intellects, Max?”
