by K. D. Mattis
“That’s not the question,” Harris said turning his gaze to his feet.
“As far as I can tell, you and I are one in the same, now. Your goals are my goals. My goals are yours. There is no me without you, and there is no you without me.”
Harris groaned. “So, I’m stuck hallucinating for the rest of my life?”
The Symbiant’s projection disappeared. “Is this better?”
Walking toward a clearing, Harris looked toward the sky to find the sun and get a better bearing on his location.
“It would be,” Harris said, “if you’d ever shut up.”
“No chance of that,” the voice in his head said.
“Figures. How much farther to the beacon?”
At his desk, Commander Gibbs hunched over, staring intently at a tablet. He could read the print on the screen just fine, but he convinced himself that he had somehow missed something. Maybe with a keener eye, he could see it, whatever it was. His phone rang, and he plopped it on the counter and put it on speaker.
“Hello,” Gibbs said.
“Commander Gibbs?” asked a weak voice on the other end.
The commander perked up and looked at the phone. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“Your Symbiant friend. I’ve found him.”
“Who is this?” Gibbs asked, his voice rising.
“Another friend. I hope.”
“What does that mean?” Gibbs asked. His fingers flashed over the screen as he scrambled to record the call.
The man on the other end of the line continued a hushed conversation with someone in the background. Gibbs strained, unable to make out anything but garbled words.
“Hello?” Gibbs pressed.
“We’re still here, Commander. Your friend is in bad shape. You should come see him.”
“Where?”
The call disconnected. He stood and slapped the desk in frustration. Grabbing his phone, he ran out the door and down the hall. Signs flew past as he ran, and uniformed men and women jumped out of his way. Just as he made it to the outside of the admiral’s office, his phone vibrated with a text message.
“Coordinates,” he whispered to himself.
After catching his breath, the commander ran his hands down the front of his uniform in an effort to improve his appearance. With his shirt partially untucked from running, it didn’t have much of an affect. He knocked on the door.
On the other side of the door, Asher hurried to move the stack of papers back into their envelope. She didn’t bother to hide it, but she pressed her hands firmly down upon it to protect it from prying eyes.
“Come in,” she said.
The commander walked in and took the risk of ignoring formalities. The glare from his superior officer cut through him, but he wasted no time.
“Sir, I have a lead.”
“On?” Asher asked, her expression softening.
He looked up as he searched for the right words. Coming up empty, he placed the phone on the admiral’s desk with the coordinates displayed.
“It’s our Symbiant friend, sir. Supposedly he’s at that location.”
Asher stood with her fingertips remaining on top of the envelope.
“Then why are you still here?”
Gibbs stepped back and looked carefully into his friend’s eyes. Where he usually saw warmth and optimism, he only saw a cold calculation. He took another step back and looked around the office. The bare walls and desk told a story, but he didn’t know what it meant.
“Asher?”
The Admiral didn’t respond, but Gibbs decided not to press his luck and dropped the familiar tone.
“Admiral, I heard what happened to Reynolds. I—”
“Stop,” Asher said flatly.
“No.” He took note of the admiral’s furrowed brow and doubled down. “I’m not going to pretend to know what he’s going through. I’m also not going to pretend to understand how much you—”
“What do you know?” Asher hissed.
The man shook his head and picked up his phone.
Asher stuck her chest out and put her hands behind her back. “Do you know what they said? The police, I mean. They told him it was a botched burglary. Nothing’s missing, and that’s the best answer they could come up with.” Her eyes drifted to the envelope as she spoke. “I’m standing here knowing full well that family of my people was murdered by a Symbiant. I can’t prove it, no officials know it, but I’m certain. I was warned a while back that we were in the middle of a war. I knew it, but I never thought it could be so… uncivilized.
“Of my senior staff, four have had family murdered in their own botched burglaries. What are the odds? How many more until we stop it? And isn’t that assuming a lot? Thinking that we can stop it?”
The envelope pulled away into the admiral’s arms.
“Sir?” Gibbs asked.
“Ryan,” Asher said, “your orders were to gather any information you could about the Symbiants. I asked you to do it because I trust you above everyone else on this base.”
“Sir—”
“Everyone else, Commander.” Asher took her seat and leaned back. “You know better than anyone else that whatever these things are, whatever they want, they pose a threat to us. Take care of it.” After a pause, she added, “If this lead gets you what you need, then take it.”
The pair exchanged nods and Gibbs left the room. It wasn’t obvious, but Asher was certain he intentionally slammed the door. She jumped back to her feet and considered calling him back. Were he anyone else, she would have.
Asher sighed and eased back into her chair once more. After rubbing her temples, she pulled out her phone and called Reynolds. The phone rang until it kicked over to voicemail. His voice sounded so pleasant and professional that she almost forgot that he was sharing a tragedy. When the time came for her to leave a message, she sat there in silence until an automated prompt told her that she was out of time.
33
On a lone stretch of highway in the middle of Texas, a single truck flew along, leaving a steady dust cloud in its wake and disturbing the otherwise pristine air. Cow pastures spread out as far as the eye could see. Aside from a few vultures and the cows, everything else but the truck stood completely still.
Inside the truck, Gibbs glanced nervously in the rearview mirror. One hand gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The other rummaged through a paper bag, fishing for any fries left lingering behind.
A windbreak of trees marked the edge of the property. Gibbs’s navigation system alerted him to the coming stop, and he shoved the two remaining fries in his mouth before patting the holster under his jacket. After wiping his mouth with a free napkin on the dashboard, he patted the holster again, just to be sure.
The vehicle rattled over the cattle guard and continued in a dusty cloud up the long drive. The driver rode the brake to keep the vehicle moving slowly as he scanned everything around him. Despite the open fields, there were plenty of blind spots. Behind a tractor, a tree, a hay bale. For a third time, the driver patted his holster. Once he reached the house, he circled the outside. A few weeds and a rusted swing set were the only things that made any motion at all. The route ended with him parking next to an old, rusted out Chevy.
Commander Ryan Gibbs swung his foot out of the truck and circled the old Chevy. He looked inside, around, and underneath the vehicle before moving on. His clean, black blazer over a gray shirt and sharp, pressed pants stood out in the background. Subtlety wasn’t on his agenda today.
With a few more cautious glances around the property, the commander ran up the steps to the front door, his feet barely making a sound. He strained to see inside the windows while slamming his fist on the frame of the door, knocking loudly. When no one answered, he wrapped his fingers around his pistol and grabbed the doorknob. The door pulled open with no resistance, and he threw his body inside.
His eyes struggled to adapt to the darkness. He pulled the gun
from its holster with one hand and pulled on the curtains from over the door, letting in more light. He hated feeling exposed, but he didn’t have the time or the resources to control the situation properly.
The man snapped into an old mindset, one ingrained in him many years ago, as he cleared room after room in the house. With only two bedrooms, , the farmhouse wasn’t large, and it didn’t take long to clear. Everything was old, handmade, and entirely unremarkable.
“Hello?” Gibbs shouted to the empty house.
He honestly didn’t expect anything from the call, but he listened intently for a response just the same. Satisfied that none would come, he moved back into the kitchen and listened closely. Moving to the refrigerator, he placed his hand on the door, expecting to feel the quiet vibration of the compressor. He felt nothing, so he opened the fridge and stuck his hand inside. The scent of rancid milk assaulted his nostrils, forcing him to turn away. The refrigerator wasn’t running and hadn’t been for some time.
The man slammed the door and stepped outside, desperate for a clean breath of air. He breathed deep several times. It was foreign to him, in a way. The air felt clean. Natural. Strange. A cow bellowed in the distance and drew his attention away. If something caused the cow to call out, Gibbs couldn’t see it.
He returned to his truck and verified that the navigation system had taken him to the correct place. Satisfied that it was correct, he threw the system onto the passenger seat and turned toward the barn.
In the matter of a few steps, a fine dust covered his boots and drifted up the bottom of his otherwise clean slacks. Every step worsened the problem.
Despite its peeling paint, the barn had a certain charm. It matched what he saw in books as a child, complete with the small window on the second-story loft. As he looked into that window, he came to a stop, feeling completely exposed.
Suddenly aware of his path, he began moving in a zigzag pattern. With no cover between himself and the barn, he picked up the pace and moved into a light jog. His pistol led the way until he made it to the door. He pressed his body into the frame, making himself as small as possible as he looked around one last time and tried to determine the next step.
Kicking the door, he shouted, “Is anyone in there?”
No one answered. Throwing the door open, he spun around and charged into the room, again with his gun leading the way. At first, he couldn’t process what he saw and threw his body behind a support beam off to his side. As his eyes adjusted, he grew bolder and stepped out of the shadows.
Light filtered in through the open door and through the window at the top of the barn. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to reveal the massacre.
He saw too many bodies. He rushed from one person to the next with his gun still drawn as he checked each person for a pulse. Each person bore large, black and red bruises over their bodies. The swelling in their faces distorted them, making them look like monsters.
Kneeling beside a man with a pulse, Gibbs looked the man over carefully and noticed a small hole in his temple. Every breath came with incredible effort.
“Hello?” Gibbs asked, trying to draw the man’s attention.
The man’s eyes wouldn’t focus on anything. Gibbs eased him back into a resting position, knowing the man would be dead soon enough. He couldn’t save the man, but he didn’t want him to suffer more than necessary.
“Over here,” said a familiar voice.
Gibbs turned and studied the faces behind him. A hand lifted above the pile and drew the commander’s attention. He ran over and pulled the familiar face of a Symbiant up toward his own.
“What the hell happened to you?” Gibbs said, desperately searching the man for wounds.
The Symbiant’s injuries were the same as everyone else. The Symbiant moved his hand to grab at the commander and blood poured from his head. Realizing the error, he stuck his hand back in place to stem the blood loss.
Gibbs tried to lift the man up, but the Symbiant pushed away and rested his head on the chest of another body. He struggled to talk and swallowed heavily a few times, licking his lips to make it easier.
“The parasite’s gone.”
“What?” Gibbs asked. He studied the Symbiant’s face hoping to see some sign of a sense of humor, but he could only see the pained expression of a dying man.
“They took me from the hotel that night. They gathered us up. Questioned us for days. Tortured us.”
Gibbs looked around at the carnage around him. “Who? Who questioned you?”
“I don’t know, but they knew how to find us. They didn’t care about the people. Just the parasites. They tried to pull information from them. It didn’t work, so they killed them and left us to die.”
The man’s eyes opened and closed erratically. The more it happened, the longer the eyes stayed closed and the less the man said.
“Please,” Gibbs begged, propping the man up again. “I need information. Anything you can give me.”
“The parasites…”
The man’s voice trailed off and restarted several times before falling silent. Gibbs shook him and pressed his ears to his chest. He silently prayed for an answer, but the man stopped breathing, and his hand fell to the side, a stream of blood running down his face.
Gibbs sat back on his knees. He became acutely aware of the sweat running down his nose and used his sleeve to wipe it away. He looked around the room and didn’t see anyone else moving, so he stood and walked toward the door. He placed every step carefully, doing his best to respect the dead by not stepping on their extremities. He shook his head, disappointed in himself that he couldn’t do more.
The light coming in from the open door hit the commander’s feet. The sensation sent a surprising chill down his spine. He welcomed it and hurried out into the sun. Dropping his guard, he closed his eyes and breathed in the clean, country air.
Footsteps to his side caught the commander by surprise. Ripping his pistol from its holster, he stepped back through the door of the barn. This time, knowing the cause, he couldn’t ignore the smell engulfing him. The bodies were too fresh to stink, but the smell of blood baking in the Texas heat encouraged him to charge back out and directly face the footsteps.
In front of him stood Robert Harris. His clothes hung loosely from his emaciated body.
“I need your help, Commander.”
Gibbs lowered the gun but didn’t put it away.
“What are you doing here?” His head jerked toward the barn. “Was this you? Is it your idea of revenge?”
Harris shook his head and fumbled for the right words. “No, but there’s something you should see.”
34
The pair drove with the windows down. As the sun faded beyond the horizon, the air cooled significantly, a welcome respite from the day. Harris sat in the passenger seat doing his best to focus on the moment, but his eyes wandered, and his mouth moved incessantly, tied up in a conversation only he could hear.
“You have to stop that, man,” Gibbs said, slapping the steering wheel. His tone was light and friendly, but there was a serious edge to the words.
Straightening up in his seat, Harris said, “Sorry. I’m sure it’s annoying. Imagine living with it.”
“No thanks.”
They continued down the road in silence until the stars lit up the sky. They both kept looking over at each other, looking for the right words to start a conversation, but neither wanted to put the other out by making it happen. The silence continued until they reached a fork in the road.
“Which way?” Gibbs asked.
Harris talked to himself again, mostly under his breath. He never actually answered, but he pointed off to the right.
“Do you feel that?” Harris asked.
“What?”
Harris held up his hand and inspected it carefully. He ran his fingers along the top of his hand and traced out the lines made by his veins.
“That. You don’t feel it?”
Gibbs shook his head.
&n
bsp; Smirking, Harris said, “It’s incredible. Electric. Not far now.”
The truck rolled through a small town. They passed by a few houses with neatly painted picket fences. The largest building in sight had two stories, and Harris perked up. His hands twitched and shook. He tried to speak but only managed to sputter. Instead, he pointed.
Gibbs turned the vehicle into a large field and continued to the edge of the woods. Once he stopped, his passenger jumped out and ran into the trees. The commander watched on for a few seconds, shrugged his shoulders, and followed.
Harris moved effortlessly as they ran through the unlit woods. Gibbs moved with considerably greater difficulty. Every branch that caught his face and every root that caught his foot brought forth another string of curses until they came upon a sidewalk. In the middle of a clearing was a picnic table under a gazebo.
Letting out an excited yelp, Harris ran forward and jumped up one of the columns. He grabbed at something hidden on top of a beam and held it with both hands as he landed on his feet and adopted a squatting position. Gibbs thought he looked feral.
“Are you ready?” Harris asked with a large grin.
Even in the moonlight, Gibbs could plainly see the creases on the edge of the man’s eyes. It was pure joy.
Harris twisted the ends of the cylinder and stared intently, just waiting for something to happen. When it didn’t, he ran his hands down the edges of the device. Frustrated, he slammed it on the ground. It rolled a short distance away and came to a stop. Then it jumped. First once. Then twice in a row. Then it began to dance.
The cylinder melted into a puddle, spreading wide across the ground. Its edges sharpened into a perfect square, and the whole thing lit up in a faint blue.
“Watch,” Harris whispered, rocking back on his heels.
Gibbs didn’t need the instruction. He couldn’t take his eyes off the device.
A pyramid rose out of the puddle and flashed vibrant green and purple hues. When those faded, so too did the pyramid. In its place rose several columns, each flashing with a speed and intensity that forced the commander to blink his eyes forcibly. The show continued for some time. When it finally ended, the pool silently pulled back together until it was again a single, solid cylinder.
