Fox nodded. Good. This was good. There were only two hundred humans on Earth. If Fox could negotiate with these creatures, maybe even forge peace, he could save his colony.
"What do you want?" Fox said.
The basilisk chuckled—a sound like snapping bones. "Your … death."
Chapman began to howl.
"Damn you!"
The spindly private finally managed to pull his trigger. His bullets rang out, and Chapman charged, roaring wordlessly, firing on the beast.
The basilisk leaped into the air, moving with remarkable speed for its size, and vanished into shadows.
"It's in the trees!" Fox shouted, pointing his flashlight upward.
His beam fell upon hundreds of blazing red eyes.
"Oh God, they're mucking everywhere!" cried Chapman.
Fox had seen enough. He raised his rifle and fired on automatic, spraying the canopy of basilisks. Blood rained.
The creatures laughed. Scales clattered. Fangs shone.
"You sons of bitches!" Chapman cried. He lowered his rifle, grabbed a grenade, and tossed it into the air.
"No, you idiot!" Fox shouted.
He dived and covered his head.
The explosion boomed above.
Broken branches hailed down. Snow thudded all around him, thick with shrapnel. A metal shard dug into his shoulder, and Fox bellowed.
He struggled to his feet, ears ringing. Fire was spreading over the branches, melting the snow, consuming damp leaves. The snakes were gone.
Chapman stood in the melting snow, laughing hysterically. Half his face was gone, burnt away, but still the madness gripped him, and his laughter rang through the burning forest.
"That's right, assholes!" The private raised his rifle. "Run! Run, cowards! We are humans! Mess with us and burn!"
Fox's head spun. His heart pounded against his ribs. His leg and shoulder screamed in pain.
Calm yourself. You are a hunter. A hunter. Get a grip. Get a grip.
He pointed his flashlight above. Nothing. Broken branches. Dying flames.
The serpents were gone.
"They're scared of fire," Fox said, lowering the flashlight. "They're—"
A red lump in the snow caught his eye.
Something cold and hard filled his chest.
Fox stepped forward, rifle raised, eyes narrowed. His heartbeat wouldn't slow. He approached the red lump, nausea growing inside him.
He pointed his flashlight at the mound.
He stood, frozen, staring.
Chapman trudged up to him, still laughing. "We got 'em, Sarge, didn't we? We showed those bastards. We—"
The private stared at the red lump, then doubled over and gagged.
They had found Karin.
The basilisk had spat her out. Her skin was gone, her flesh half-digested, her ribs exposed. Clumps of her hair rested in the snow, sticky with blood and digestive acids.
Fox lowered his head.
"Poor girl," he said. "To die like that, eaten by a snake …" He shook his head, eyes stinging. "It ain't right. It—"
"Sarge …" Chapman said, voice choked.
Fox raised his eyes.
She was moving.
Karin was moving.
"She's alive," Chapman whispered. "Oh God. Oh God! How can this be? She's still alive, damn it, she—"
Fox could hear no more. A ringing filled his ears. The forest spun around him. The thing that had been Karin raised its arm, the fingers gone, and she begged with no mouth, and Fox was weeping, sobbing as he fired his rifle, as he emptied a magazine into her, as she died in the snow, as his soul shattered.
Above them, the basilisks were laughing.
The creatures covered the forest canopy. Thousands of them. They formed a sky of scales and fangs.
Fox and Chapman ran.
They ran through the darkness, through the storming wind and shards of flying ice. Fox fell, and pain stabbed him, but he rose and ran again. Basilisks swarmed in the shadows, filling the forest, hiding behind every tree. Staring. Laughing. Hissing.
"Die, apes." They cackled. "Die."
Chapman drew another grenade. With blinding speed, a serpent lunged from a tree. Massive jaws closed around Chapman's hand before he could pull the grenade's pin. The jaws opened, revealing a gushing stump. Chapman screamed and fell to his knees, clutching the stump, trying to hold in the blood.
"Chapman!" Fox cried.
He didn't know what to do. If to fight. To run. To treat his friend's wound.
Fox stood, trapped. The snakes all around. Above him. Everywhere.
And he was their prey.
"Sarge," Chapman whispered, staring at him from the snow. Tears flowed down his cheeks. "I miss home. I miss my mom."
A serpent descended from the trees, dangling like a noose. The alien's jaw widened. The toothy mouth engulfed Chapman's head, his shoulders, his arms, gulping him down. The serpent began to rise back into the canopy, carrying its quarry. Only Chapman's legs were visible now, still kicking.
Fox screamed and opened fire.
His bullets hit the serpents above. Blood showered. A basilisk shrieked. Severed human legs thumped into the snow. The rest of Chapman followed, slamming into Fox, then sliding down, pawing at him. The private was cut in half below the ribs, whispering, grabbing at Fox's clothes, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
Fox ran, leaving him.
He ran through the trees, ears ringing, eyes blind, his flashlight forgotten in the snow.
He ran through the blazing decks of his starship.
He ran through the ashes of the gulock.
He ran as his family cried out to him, raising burning hands from the snow.
The basilisks descended all around him, countless dangling from the trees. The red eyes stared. The tongues flicked. The jaws snapped. Fox tried to run between them, knocking them aside. They snapped their jaws at him. Grabbed him with their claws. Pulled him up from the snow.
He roared, tried to shoot them, but they pulled the rifle from his hands. The serpents coiled around him, squeezing, silencing his cries. They pulled him higher into their nests of scales, thousands of them covering the treetops, spreading across the night.
The creatures hissed and clattered, tongues flicking. Talking amongst themselves. Fox lay among them, crushed in their grip, waiting for his death. Waiting to see his family again.
I failed you, Earth, he thought. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
But the basilisks did not devour him that night.
They pulled him through the forest. Their tails coiled around him, crushing him, leaving only his head exposed. They dragged him across a frozen lake toward a starship—an ugly, elongated machine coated with patches of armor-like scales. The snakes slithered into the craft, carrying Fox, and they laid him in a pit of vipers. Young serpents squirmed, slick and soft, filling the ship, wrapping around him, their scales smooth and warm.
The starship engines rumbled.
They rose from the forest.
Through a porthole, Fox saw the stars.
For a long time, hours or days or weeks, they flew. The serpents held his limbs, coiled around his body, hissed into his ears. They regurgitated a sweet, sickly milk into his mouth. They kept him alive. They licked his tears. And Fox envied Karin and Chapman. And whenever he closed his eyes, he still saw them begging.
The stars streamed around them.
After what seemed like eras, they reached a world. A dark planet orbiting a red sun. The starship descended toward mountains and plains. Mist floated over barren landscapes, and geysers belched fumes into a murky sky. The starship flew toward a mountain, entered a tunnel, and plunged into darkness.
They landed in a hellish, underground world of snakes.
They pulled Fox out of the starship, and they dragged him through their domain. The basilisks had hollowed out their mountain, filled it with tunnels, with caverns the size of cities, had constructed massive towers and plunging canyons. They toiled in deep holes,
melting metal and building great machines. Gears spun and chimneys pumped out smoke. Holes peppered the walls, filled with staring eyes, and quivering eggs rose in hills.
Millions of basilisks filled this underground kingdom, scurrying, hissing, mocking.
They carried Fox into a vast chamber in the center of the mountain. It was a place so large starships could have battled here. Lakes of fire swirled, and lava poured down the walls. Metal spikes rose everywhere, impaling the skulls of a thousand alien species.
I'm in Hell, Fox thought. I died in that forest. This is my punishment for living so long while my family lay dead. This is my punishment for hunting when I should have fled.
The serpents carried him across rickety bridges as the lava gurgled below. An island rose ahead, and a tower rose from it, carved of white stone. It reminded Fox of a bone rising from wounds. The tower's top flared out, and a great fiery heart hovered atop it, blazing like a sun, casting heat and red light.
This was the heart of the mountain. This was the heart of their empire.
They entered the tower, a tube of shimmering bone. While the city outside was all blazing red fire and black shadows, this was a place of austerity, of white light and smooth walls. The tower was almost clinical.
Three basilisks were still wrapped around him. They carried him toward the center of the hall, where rose a marble dais, pure white and gleaming.
The snakes tossed him down. Fox hit the tiles, gasping for breath, his blood dripping.
"Mistress!" the basilisks hissed. "Oh, blessed Mother of Serpents! These ones bow before you. These ones bring you a gift. He is here. The ape we captured. One of those who invaded your blue world."
A voice sounded above, feminine, seductive, a voice like silk and sex and secrets. "You have done well, dear pets. You have pleased your goddess."
Fox took a shuddering breath and raised his eyes.
My God.
An ivory throne rose from the dais. A creature sat there, as sweet and wicked as sin.
She had the lower body of a serpent, sensuous and coated with shimmering scales like mother of pearl. It flowed down her throne, draped across the dais, and curved to the floor, the tail lazily flicking. But her upper body was that of a woman—her hips rounded, her waist slender, her breasts large and tipped with red nipples. Her lips and eyes were the same red, a deep crimson like wine and rubies. Her face was young and fair, her skin the color of milk, and golden bracelets encircled her wrists. Her fingers were delicate and fair, adorned with rings, yet tipped with claws, long and sharp and the color of blood.
Human skulls and bones lay around her throne. She herself was not human. Nor was she basilisk. She was goddess. She was mother. She was mercy and vengeance. And Fox could not help it. He bowed before her.
"Rise, ape. Let me see you."
Her tail flowed toward him, hooked him under the arms, and lifted him to his feet. Her scales were so soft, so warm. That tail pulled him gently, and there was no pain, only mercy. She slithered off her throne, and she swayed closer to him, her eyes deep and filled with secrets, her lips full and lush and dripping milk. He could not look away. Her eyes trapped him more tightly than her tail, and her tongue emerged, thin and forked, to lick those plump lips. He felt ugly before her, a hairy ape, filthy, foul, a wretched being before an angel.
"What are you?" Fox managed to whisper.
She pulled him against her, wrapped her arms around him. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest. She placed her lips against his ear, and her tongue flicked.
"I am Xerka," she hissed. "I am your goddess. And your world lies within my domain."
She placed her hands on his cheeks, her claws cold against his temples, and she kissed him. A deep, passionate kiss, a kiss of lust and hunger, and her tongue flicked in his mouth. She tasted like milk and sex and honey over rot.
Worship me.
She spoke in his mind.
Fox could not breathe. She was still kissing him, deeper now, more passionately. Painfully. With a lust like a storm.
Enter me.
Her hands tightened around his head. Her claws pierced his skin. He screamed into her kiss. Desperate for air.
Become me.
His eyes were bugging out. Hers were deep red, mocking, alien. Hearts burned deep within them.
Her mouth widened. Her kiss deepened. Her tail wrapped more tightly around him, pressing him against her naked flesh.
Her jaw distended. Her kiss engulfed his chin. His nose. His face. He screamed as her claws dug deeper, as her body coiled around him, tightening, constricting.
Her delicate, pale jaw widened still. Her kiss engulfed him. Wrapped around his ears, took in his entire head, welcomed him into her. She lifted him with her tail, shoving him deeper, her tongue still flicking, her jaws working as she sucked him in. His shoulders entered her mouth, and she tossed back her head, guzzling him down, devouring him alive.
He slid through her. Deep into the red warmth. Deep into the welcoming womb of the goddess. And he worshiped her. And he became her. And the world was red walls and a flaming heart. And they were one.
CHAPTER TWO
Bay never wanted to leave his bed. It was cold outside the blankets. There were responsibilities, nagging privates, overbearing officers.
And most importantly—there was a very beautiful, very naked woman here in his bed.
A woman Bay loved with all his heart.
"Bay, for muck's sake, roll over!" Rowan elbowed him hard in the ribs, then shoved him. "You're hogging the blankets, and your knee keeps poking me in the ass."
Bay sighed.
Well, with most of his heart at least. Maybe not all four chambers.
"Row, I'm already on the edge of the bed," he said. "Look at you! You're what, four foot eleven? A hundred pounds soaking wet? And you're taking up more space than a sumo wrestler."
"It's not me." Rowan said. "It's my snacks!"
She gestured at the bed. There were piles of potato chip bags, gummy worms, juice boxes, cookies, and an assortment of other junk. She reached across the blankets, grabbed some chocolate covered almonds, and began to munch.
Bay groaned.
"First of all, how the hell do you stay so skinny?" Bay said. "Second—where the hell do you find old Earth snacks in the ISS Jerusalem, a spaceship that has never been to Earth?"
She patted his cheek and spoke with her mouth full. "Never underestimate how industrious a hungry girl can become during a six month flight through space. I did a lot of research on confectionery making. I made these snacks myself!"
He reached toward her gummy worms. "Share."
She slapped his hand away. "You didn't earn them!"
Bay frowned. "Rowan, you do know I saved your life in the Battle of Aelonia, right? And a few times since then."
She grinned, wriggled closer, and playfully bit his nose. "That's not how you earn snacks, silly!" She pressed her naked body against his. "You earn snacks by making sweet love to me."
Bay's jaw dropped. "You mean, I'm …"
She nodded. "A snack whore." She kissed him. "Besides, I have some new tricks I want to try out on you." She began kissing his neck and chest, then looked back up into his eyes. "I've been doing research. And not just about how to make candy."
Ra above, her lips felt good on his body. The blood flowed from Bay's brain, leaving him woozy.
"You don't need to … research … sex." He closed his eyes. "You just do it."
"But I want to be really, really good at it!" Rowan said. "An absolute expert. I've read a bunch of books about it, and I learned a ton. Now be quiet! Let me practice on you."
They made love.
Again.
Over the past six months, stuck on this starship on its long voyage to Earth, they had made love many times. Each time was better than the last. And this time was no exception.
The first few times, Bay had felt awkward. He was no stranger to sex. He had slept with women before Rowan. But he had also lost his left
arm in the Battle of Aelonia. He had felt self-conscious at first. During the day, he wore his prosthetic, a contraption of wood, gauges, and gears. It looks impressive enough, and it drew appreciative looks from the younger privates. But in bed, with only his stump? Yes, at first Bay had felt shy. Felt ugly.
But Rowan had soon put those fears to rest.
"Bay, you are the sexiest man alive," she had told him that first night. "Well, after Aragorn. And Indiana Jones. And maybe Han Solo. But you're definitely fourth! Third if you count Indy and Han as one person."
That had been good enough for him.
Rowan too had grown in confidence. When Bay had first met her, she had been a meek little thing, cowering in an airflow duct on a faraway space station. Over the past three years, he had watched her grow into a woman, a soldier, a true warrior of humanity. Both their lives had been painful—running from war, losing so many friends and family to the alien claws. But here, right now—this was happiness. This was as pure as the sacred memory of Earth.
"Well?" Rowan said when they were done.
"That," Bay said, "was amazing. You're an excellent student."
She mussed his hair. "You're an excellent project. These past six months, here with you in this cabin …" She leaned her head against his chest. "They've been the best days of my life, Bay B."
Bay stroked her short brown hair. "I thought your nickname for me was Pancake, not baby."
"I said Bay B, not baby. Your last name is Ben-Ari, right? So your proper name is Bay B." She kissed him. "My Bay B."
He thought for a moment. "I prefer Pancake. Less risk of the troops picking it up."
"Fine, Bay B Pancake."
She snuggled against him.
These are the best days of my life too, he thought, holding her.
Yes, perhaps they both deserved some joy. Both had been fleeing and fighting all their lives. But the war was over now. The alien scorpions were dead. And the survivors of humanity—a thousand starships—were flying toward Earth, their lost homeworld. Bay had always dreamed of seeing Earth, but he never wanted this flight to end.
Rowan rose from bed. She stepped across the small cabin toward the porthole. She stood, naked and beautiful, watching the stars stream by outside.
"We're almost there," she said softly. "Almost at Earth. Almost home. I'm scared, Bay."
The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4) Page 2
