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No other words followed. What could she say? There were millions of angels in the world, with millions more just arrived. Even with more AKs, to kill the creatures singly could take generations. Humanity would be destroyed by then; the angels would have moved on to leech off some other world.
God, why hadn’t he attacked sooner? He’d been so positive he was right – but what if he’d done what Sam had wanted instead? They could have forgotten about recruiting new people and only picked off angels that were hunting solo. They might have done it that way.
They really might have done it.
Slowly, Alex scraped his hands down his face. Through the windshield was a piercing blue sky. The dirt road sliced through a grassy field, heading up into the mountains.
Willow took one of his hands and pressed it against her chest. “Alex, please don’t blame yourself! It’s not your fault. ”
“Yeah? Whose fault is it?”
“No one’s!” Her tone was pleading. “Fate. Life. You’re an amazing leader. And if you had it to do over again, you’d make the same choice, you know you would. ”
He’d never been less interested in hypotheticals. He’d screwed up – end of story. And, yeah, big comfort to know that if he had it to do over again, he’d still screw up.
A long pause wrapped around them. There was the sound of birdsong and the faint ticking of the engine. “Should we call the others?” Willow suggested finally.
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and didn’t answer for a minute. “I can’t tell them this over the phone, Willow,” he said in a low voice. “I just can’t. ”
He hated the sympathy in her green eyes. Softly, she said, “All right, but we need to let them know we’re okay, at least. And that the next Wave has arrived. ”
“We will, but just—” He broke off and gripped her hand, not looking at her. “Just give me a minute. ”
How the hell was he supposed to tell the base this when they got back? Exactly what combination of words could he use to break the news to his team that their efforts had been for nothing and the world was doomed now…and all because they’d trusted him?
After calling in, all Alex wanted to do was get away from this place – head for home and get the announcement over with. Willow shook her head. “We need to get some rest first. ” He could see her own pained shock, her worry for him. “Neither of us has slept in over a day, Alex. ”
He started to argue; the thought of crashing the truck with Willow in it stopped him. He’d made enough cataclysmic mistakes already. He pulled the truck farther up the road, concealing them in a grove of trees.
Though he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, a bone-aching weariness claimed him once they’d spread out their sleeping bag in the back. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled thankfully into its soft haven, where he drifted off with Willow nestled against him.
He awoke abruptly several hours later, unsure where he was. Then it came back in relentless detail. The truck’s windows were misty with condensation; he reached over and wiped one clean. Moonlit fields and a clear starlit sky. No sign of flying angels – those who weren’t staying nearby must have already moved on. Or were in their human forms now, merging seamlessly with the rest of the population.
Except for their eyes. You could always tell an angel by its eyes.
Alex took in the peaceful landscape, seeing instead a country full of Edens – a world full of them, for ever, because of what he’d done. Willow was curled asleep against his chest; he absently rubbed her shoulder as his thoughts pummelled him.
But was there a chance Willow had been wrong?
His hand stilled and stopped. His heart quickened despite itself. Not that he actually believed it – Willow was an excellent psychic. But come on, wasn’t it at least possible? Okay, so maybe the odds were only one in a million…yet that still meant there was a slim hope this wasn’t true.
And if there was any hope at all, he had to know.
Alex hit the display button on the sat phone. Almost midnight. The newly opened Golden Eden was about five miles away – he could jog there, check things out, and be back by two.
Just having a plan was a relief. Alex eased his arm out from under Willow – she murmured and turned to her side. With a hasty groping in the darkness, he found his clothes and rifle. He slithered out of the sleeping bag and climbed silently to the front of the truck. He squeezed open the door.
Cool night air sent goosebumps across his chest. Alex got out and guided the door shut behind him, pressing it hard so it would latch. He yanked on his jeans and T-shirt, then crouched down quickly to tie his sneakers. As he checked his rifle, moonlight glinted on the barrel.
He could just see Willow through the window he’d wiped clear. He knew she’d be fine – no one would venture up this remote road after dark – yet for a second he found his fingers resting on the door handle. But there could be no debate, none – he had to find out, and the sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back. He let his hand drop and turned away.
When he was far enough away down the dirt road, he broke into a run.
Alex had been to Golden before: a small town high in the Rockies where tanned, perfect people shopped at specialty grocery stores. Now it had been made into an Eden to deal with the Denver overflow and a concrete wall girded it, with fresh barbed wire glinting at its top. As Alex approached from the hills, he could see new housing had been thrown up, nestling among the ten-million-dollar homes like poor relations.
Lights were still on, even at this hour – people were savouring having electricity again. Alex grimaced; many of the lights were blue and flickering. Raziel had a depressingly firm grasp of American psychology all right: offer them TV, and they’d come.
Finding a good spot was harder than he’d imagined; he was acutely aware of time ticking past and of Willow left back in the truck. Finally he settled on a hill to the north near what looked like a service entrance. He could see the dark shapes of army trucks just inside the gates.
Not many angels were out, but enough. Lying on his stomach, Alex held his rifle to his shoulder and forced himself to be patient as the creatures swooped across his crosshairs. For at least a quarter of an hour, none gave him what he needed.
Then his chance came.
A small cluster appeared, circling together. Alex began tracking them closely. “C’mon, c’mon,” he whispered, his muscles relaxed even if his mind wasn’t. “You can’t stick together all night…”
As if overhearing, one angel peeled away from the other two; in the magnified lens, Alex could see the fiercely beautiful male face. He followed the angel as it started to dive, focusing only on the halo’s pure white centre. Not yet…not yet…now!
The crosshairs exploded into light. As white fragments twisted in the moonlight, Alex jerked his head away from the lens and looked for the other two. There they were, still close by. Ordinarily, an angel would feel another’s death intensely – react at once.
The angels kept gliding away, great wings calmly stirring at the air.
Alex lay without moving as he stared after them. It was true then. He hadn’t really believed otherwise. But now, faced with proof, for a second he wanted to just go berserk and start gunning down every angel he saw, whether it gave away his position or not.
Angel Fever Page 15
