by J. F. Halpin
Asle turned to see the now concerned-looking woman Summers had called the “Colonel” pacing in front of Nowak. She was, by Asle’s estimation, very much on the brink of panic.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. From my best estimation, we’re all that’s left. Like I said, our assignment with Rhodes was . . . unique.” Nowak looked at the woman, clearly uneasy. She’d heard him explaining their situation for the past few minutes, and the conversation wasn’t going well.
“Your assignment’s the last thing on my mind right now, Sergeant. You were in Alaska, then. What about the gate?”
“The . . .” Nowak looked at the woman with a bit of confusion.
“The gate. The machine that made the portal.”
“It’s . . . it was destroyed, ma’am. It’s probably still back at the base.”
“Goddamn it . . .” The woman rubbed at tired eyes.
Asle watched as her gaze drifted over to Summers for a moment.
The medics were working on him properly now. Her teacher had done everything she could, but neither she nor Nowak were true healers. The men ran a small device over his back. Every few minutes, she’d hear the sound of metal clattering to the ground. More often than not the “scalpels” the men used were broken on Summers’ odd gray skin.
“I’d hoped you’d have some good news for us, Sergeant.” Rivers ran a hand through her hair.
“I’m . . . sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure what . . .”
The colonel watched Nowak, considering.
“Not like these creatures don’t know. . . . Sergeant, we’ve been cut off from base for about a month now. Some of us were holding out hope that the portable unit would be able to take us back home.”
“Cut off?” Nowak’s eyes widened. “You mean to tell me we’re still stuck here?”
“Welcome to my world, Sergeant. Now, I can fill you in on the details later . . .” She eyed the half-destroyed bunker.
She was doing that a lot. Since Nowak had explained that the “leader” of their attackers was trapped inside, the entire group seemed to be on edge.
Now, a handful of soldiers were outside, arguing. Asle noticed they were giving Summers a wide berth.
“Your man”—the colonel indicated Summers—“you said he’s stable.”
“Ma’am, he’s himself. I know you’ve probably been dealing with . . .” Nowak glanced at the field of dead that surrounded them. “Some difficulties, but I’d trust him with my life, and I think he might have some insight to make sure none of this happens again.”
“Insight . . . ?”
“A fix, or close to one.”
That definitely got the colonel’s attention.
“That’s—”
“It’s him, Colonel!” A shout from the soldier Asle thought was Jacobs interrupted the conversation. “Confirmed ID, ma’am. It’s Wendel.”
Rivers perked up at the declaration, heading toward the group.
“Is he alive?”
“Mostly,” Jacobs answered, still looking back at the bunker.
Rivers thought for a long moment before answering.
“Sedate him and the aberration.” She nodded to the medics at Summers’ side. “We need to get back to the base. We’ll treat your people there.”
She watched as the medics nodded, pulling a bag of some kind of chemical out from a pouch. Summers wasn’t doing anything. He was going to let them put him to sleep.
He was an idiot.
Asle moved to the colonel, standing in front of her.
“You can’t do that.”
Rivers looked down at Asle, confused for a moment.
“Wait, I recognize you,” the colonel said with sudden realization. “You’re General Hawkin’s kid, aren’t you?”
Asle nodded in response. She only vaguely recalled the general’s name, but he was the man who had taken charge of her all those months ago.
The colonel watched Asle a moment before kneeling down to her eye level.
“How in the . . . never mind. I understand you’re worried about your friend, but this is a temporary—” The colonel started to say something, but it didn’t sound like agreement, so Asle interrupted her.
“No. We captured him. We have information you want. If we are your allies, we should be treated as allies. If we aren’t . . .”
That earned Asle a hard glare.
“And why is this important to you?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” Asle said flatly. “I do not want him to be asleep.”
The woman sighed before turning to Nowak.
“Sergeant . . .”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I agree with our, uh . . . translator.” He gave Asle a small nod. “Summers was the one who took that thing in there down. He is by and large one of the main reasons we survived that last engagement. If something goes wrong, I want him awake.”
The colonel considered that, watching as Summers was helped to his feet by one of the medics.
“And are you willing to take responsibility for your man? Is your team?” The colonel turned to Nowak.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.
She considered the two a moment longer before gesturing to a nearby vehicle. Asle thought it was called an “APC.”
“Like I said, we’ll get into the details once we’re safe. For now, we need to get the prisoner secured. And seeing as your team is still combat effective, I’m leaving the guard detail in your hands.” She hesitated as she looked at Asle. Asle noticed the faintest flicker of sadness on her face, but it was gone just as quickly. “Load up.”
Nowak nodded in thanks.
Asle watched as she shouted for her men, gesturing to the medic that was beside Summers now. Nowak walked to the group, explaining the situation.
After a moment, Asle’s attention turned to those handling the thin man. Somehow, the group had decided bundling him in several sleeping bags was a suitable way to restrain him. It had clearly worked, but that didn’t make it any less odd.
This was not the same army Asle remembered leaving.
In any case, it seemed they were going to have a guest for the trip. That was fine. But she still had something else she needed to do now that everyone’s attention was elsewhere. Even if she really, really wasn’t looking forward to it.
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“I have no idea where the fuck I’m going,” Cortez said simply.
Summers had noted that their vehicle was in the lead, despite the group having no idea where the supposed base was.
“They gave us a map,” Nowak countered.
“Don’t think that’s the point, Sarge.” Summers looked back, a movement that hurt far more than it should have.
Behind them was a small cadre of the most heavily armed Humvees Summers had ever seen. Whatever custom-made, overpriced crap the army had mounted to these things was one-part intimidation, one-part compensation. They weren’t turrets; they were cannons. And they were all pointed directly at their back.
Asle and Synel sat beside Summers. He looked at the other vehicles with a pit in his stomach. “Did we do something to piss them off?”
“No,” Asle answered, a little faster than she probably should have.
“They don’t trust us. It’s natural,” Nowak interjected. “Look, we’ve been through some shit. I think they have, too. Just keep it together until we sort things out.”
Summers took one more look at the Humvees. He had no doubt they’d packaged his group with their “prisoner” so they could keep an eye on all of them. And possibly so they could take care of all their problems at once, if the need arose. Considering the size of the cannons, he could guess what would happen if they thought something was wrong.
“Why the fuck are we doing this?” Cortez asked. “If they can’t get us home . . .”
“We always knew this was a long shot,” Nowak replied. The tension in his voice was clear. Out of their entire group, he was probably the one who’d wanted to get home
the most. Having finally gotten to the finish line, only to be told that chance was gone, had not gone over well.
“I know.” Cortez softened her voice. “I’m just saying, what’s keeping us from taking off?”
“Besides the guns . . . ?”
“We can help.” Summers gestured to the Humvees. “I pulled this thing out of my brain. If there are more like me out there, then we might be able to help them figure out a real fix. And they can help us. We still don’t know what’s really going on back home. Or how they got us here. This is the only way I see us getting answers.”
“Plus, they’re our people,” Nowak insisted.
“Maybe . . .” Cortez glanced in the rearview as another turn came up. “I just don’t like the idea that our own people have a gun on us.”
“We’ll sort it out . . .”
Summers took a moment to look around. Their group was tired. He was tired. Cortez was barely able to keep her eyes on the road as they drove. From what he could tell, they’d only gotten a few hours of rest before they’d been forced into what was essentially a loaded march.
“How’s the passenger?” Cortez looked at the thoroughly restrained thin man at the back. “We should be able to see something soon, and I don’t want that shit in him wearing off.”
The thin man lay at the back of the APC, absolutely still as the vehicle rolled along. Nowak poked him a few times with the barrel of his rifle, not lightly.
“He’s fine,” Nowak declared. “Hasn’t moved a muscle.”
According to the medics they’d spoken with, the man had been pumped up with enough anesthetic to kill an elephant. And it was on a constant drip to his neck.
Then Summers noticed something interesting.
“Why do I smell rotten meat?”
It didn’t escape him that Asle immediately tensed.
“Asle?”
“It’s me.” Asle slowly lifted her head, looking up at Summers. She pulled a small bag from behind her, a bag filled with meat. A lot of it.
What Summers could only assume was dragon meat.
It then occurred to Summers why she would have something like that, much less hide it.
“Tell me you didn’t eat it.”
“Not yet. I wanted to, I just . . . couldn’t yet.” Asle actually looked a little ashamed as she spoke. Even so, Summers couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
“Why would you think eating this was a good idea? Whatever it did to you, we might not have been able to fix it. Do you remember what happened to me?” Summers pointed to his head. “I grew horns.”
“I liked the horns.”
“Not the point!” Summers turned to Synel. “Tell her.”
“It’s not a terrible idea . . .” Synel must have noticed Summers’ expression, because she continued. “If she’s already . . . affected, then perhaps it would be best to make use of it—for her safety, if nothing else.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Asle sat in silence for a long moment.
“I want to be useful.” She looked back at Summers. “You don’t need me. You tried to leave me because you thought I’d die. If I’m like you, then it won’t matter. I’ll be strong. Enough that I won’t lose anyone again.”
Summers paused at that. He watched as Synel laid a hand on Asle’s head.
“I take back what I said. It’s a terrible idea. If that’s what this is about, then I’d suggest you try harder in your lessons.”
“And you don’t need to do anything for us. You don’t owe us anything. Besides which, that colonel out there might shoot you on sight if she thinks you’re like . . . like I am.”
“And now that I’m thinking of it, it was controlled by those . . . things,” Synel reminded. “The gods only know if it would make your . . . condition worse.”
That gave Summers something else to think about. Even Asle seemed surprised at the realization.
Synel considered another moment before reaching over and grabbing the bag without another word. Asle looked as though she’d pout, but did nothing.
“Keeping options open is fine, but this is too much of an unknown.”
Asle looked away, seeming a little embarrassed.
“Fine.”
Summers sighed as the bag was tucked neatly behind Synel.
In truth, he’d been pushing Asle’s condition to the back of his mind for the last few days. Now, knowing that she’d likely have to deal with everything he was going through, he was less than comforted.
He’d come to terms with what was happening to him. Even if he’d bought himself years when he’d torn the hamr out of his brain, it was a losing battle. As long as he was alive, it would eventually win. He didn’t want that for Asle. If nothing else, he didn’t want her to have a constant reminder of it.
They’d have answers soon, at least. And maybe, if they were lucky, something that could help them. At the very least, he could trust the army to put him down before he hurt his friends.
“I can see something up ahead,” Cortez called over.
Summers craned his neck to see the easily recognizable silhouette of a base up ahead: concrete watchtowers framing a base with high walls. As they got closer, he could see there were holes in it, visible even at this distance, with entire sides that looked to have collapsed.
Then he saw something he wasn’t expecting. Angled directly at them was the unmistakable shape of two missile transport trucks, their payload looking pointedly toward the road they were traveling.
“Son of a bitch . . .” Cortez muttered.
Summers was sure the army would put him down if he was ever a danger to them. He’d just have to hope he lasted that long.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
“Jesus Christ,” Nowak murmured as he looked through a slit in the APC’s side.
They’d seen a few odd sights on their final approach to the base, most of which was the perfectly cut, geometric debris in their way.
“Just like the portal back at base . . .” Cortez muttered, staring at the wreckage.
Cortez rounded a spherical chunk that looked as though it had been scooped from the land. Something in the back of Summers’ mind noted the fact it was about as large as a tank.
Now that he was thinking about it, the army had built a machine that tore a hole between worlds. They’d seen what happened when that portal failed. It made sense there would be signs of their “practice runs.”
But this was too messy, too deliberate for some experiment.
“Am I supposed to just drive us through the, uh, gate?” Cortez eyed the open hole in the base’s walls.
“No need.”
Summers turned at the familiar voice behind him.
The voice of the thin man.
“We’ll be cutting this trip short.”
He lurched to the side as Cortez slammed on the brakes.
Then the world around them shifted.
Chapter 42: Trust Issues
Summers heard the report of a rifle. At the same moment, the APC lurched from some kind of impact.
He felt a body slam into him, and then, suddenly, everything was spinning.
Before he could recover, the still mangled arm of the thin man grabbed his head. And in an instant, a black, inky substance washed over him.
The thin man had likely chosen to take out the biggest threat first. Considering that Summers was tired, and still very injured, it wasn’t a terrible plan.
Fortunately for Summers, it was still a mistake.
Summers gripped the black mass, his world lighting up as every part of the thin man’s body became an extension of his own.
Then, he willed it to stop. Every muscle, every nerve, anything he could sense. Summers could smell burning skin—whether that was the thin man’s or his own wasn’t important.
The world stopped for just an instant. He looked up at the frozen form of the thin man, inches away.
“Guys—?”
Summers looked for the others, on
ly to realize that he wasn’t in the APC anymore. A strained glance showed that he was, in fact, about thirty feet away from it.
He must have been slow on the uptake, because a handful of soldiers were already pointing their rifles at him.
“Hold fire! Hold fire!” the colonel’s voice shouted over the others.
Summers would have thanked her, but the strain of keeping the thin man still was taking everything he had. He was fading fast.
The barrel of a gun pressed against the thin man’s head.
“You’re going to stop whatever the fuck it is you’re doing to my friend, or I’m putting more than a few holes in your head. You got that?” Cortez held a finger on the trigger.
He saw Pat and the others beside him, their own weapons raised.
Summers felt secure enough to tear away from the thin man’s arm, moving back as quickly as he could. The thin man, thankfully, didn’t follow.
That was good, as Summers was beyond exhausted. He could only watch as the other man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
All with the most alien smile still painted on his face. He was looking directly at Summers.
“We were right to watch you . . . you’re quite the treat.”
“Get one of those suited fuckers.” Cortez nodded to Pat, who ran for the Humvees in the distance.
Summers got to his feet a bit uneasily. Everyone in their group was more or less unharmed. Their APC was on its side, though, a group of soldiers staring at the partially caved-in front.
It seemed like one of the Humvees had somehow run headfirst into the vehicle. Something told Summers the thin man may have had something to do with that.
As he watched the soldiers approach the thin man, something occurred to him. None of the others under the hamr’s control had hesitated to throw their lives away. Hell, that might have just been a way for the infection to spread even further. But the thin man was different. He was willing to surrender if it meant protecting his own life. And it was clear he had some kind of connection to the colonel and the others, enough so that the woman hadn’t killed him on sight, despite the risk. It was also doubly clear he didn’t want to go back to them.
Summers managed to catch his breath, looking up to find Colonel Rivers just a few feet away, more than two dozen of her soldiers behind her. To his surprise, she wasn’t looking at the thin man, even as her men manhandled his already twisted form to the ground. No, she was watching Summers.
