A sudden thrill shot through him. This might be action. Not just another endless day of watching nothing much.
“Say again, tower 8?”
“Sir, the truck’s going to ram the fence!”
Millard was half right.
The truck didn’t brake or slow down. It went even faster. But even as Millard waited for the order to ready his weapon, he could see something odd about the front of the truck. It had a large blue glowing light strapped to it by duct tape. The light shone around the strands of tape, and flared out of the top and bottom of the grayish cylinder the tape made. It was like someone had taped a rock to the truck. But as the truck got faster and faster, the rock started to glow brighter and brighter.
“All perimeter, you are clear to-”
The truck hit the fence.
Millard gaped.
The fence remained standing.
The truck kept going. But now it was driving through the manicured, well ordered buildings of Fort O’Neill. Men out for their morning physical training dove out of the way, while officers shouted and enlisted scrambled for cover. The truck blared its horn as it struck the wall of the officers mess. This time, Millard was able to see as the truck phased through the wall as if it was nothing. The only hint of any interaction at all was a flash of pale white light ringing the truck. It burst out of the far side of the mess and hit a turn hard enough that it nearly jackknifed into a roll. Somehow, the driver kept the truck from toppling. The crystal stopped glowing.
Men sprang out of the back. They wore Guy Fawkes masks and black jackets. Several had red armbands around their forearms. Gunfire started to pop and crackle. Some officers went around armed. Some had also either heard the go ahead for the use of their weapons, or they were so frazzled by this sudden attack to fuck the regulations and start opening up. Millard worked the safety on his rifle, his heart hammering.
The fucking anarchists – or whatever they were – didn’t seem to give a shit about being shot at. One stood in the open, laughing. Millard blinked.
His clothes were ruffling.
Bullets were hitting.
But he wasn’t dying.
“All towers, this is Commander Eld, weapons free, weapons free!”
Millard hefted his service rifle. He sighted, making sure that the firing lines were clear. The anarchist in the center of the quad was walking towards an officer who was backing away, emptying a pistol into his chest. Millard squeezed off a quick burst a fraction of a second before he realized that he was doing what he’d always grumbled about in movies.
The anarchist staggered as the rifle slugs hit his chest. Millard, his eyes focused on the man’s center of mass, could see the tiny glint of bullets rebounding into the air. Unlike the small 9mm rounds of the pistol, his rifle rounds ripped great gashes in the jacket, revealing unblemished pale skin beneath. But the effect was still the same.
He had done nothing.
The anarchist clubbed the officer down and lifted his baseball bat over his head.
His friends were busy too. They had quickly rushed the armory and had strapped what looked like five pounds of fertilizer and some chemical additives to the door. It wasn’t a patch on some of the bombs that Millard had seen used in the artillery range. But it didn’t need to be.
The door to the armory exploded inwards.
Smoke roiled.
The men in Guy Fawkes masks emerged, carrying explosives, rifles, boxes of ammo. They shoved them into the truck. Millard emptied his weapon into them, hoping to do something. He wasn’t sure if it was one of his rounds or someone else’s that set off a freaking artillery shell that one of the looters was carrying out. But he knew that everyone swore in the same tone of voice when the looter picked himself up, adjusted his half-shattered mask, then sprinted his now mostly naked ass onto the truck.
Finally, the order came.
“Cease fire, towers!”
He saw men with batons rushing forward. Someone had gotten a fucking clue. But it was too late. By the time the MPs with batons and shields rushed up against the anarchists, they had pulled back to their truck. The truck roared and actually drove towards the MPs, who had to scramble out of the way to avoid getting crushed. The last of the anarchists scrambled into the back of the now heavily laden truck as its engine roared and its horn blared.
It drove.
Some enterprising soldier came out of the armory with a Stinger missile launcher. She knelt down, aiming at the truck as it struck the fence. The crystal flared and the truck vanished through the fence with a flash of white light. Millard ducked and watched as the stinger missile arced from the sky and smashed into the truck. It hit the ground underneath the cab and filled the air with dust and smoke. When the bits of debris fell to earth, the truck was already half a mile away.
And before Millard’s eyes, the truck drove up a hill, down a hill, and into the ground.
It was gone.
Millard looked back at the relatively undamaged base. Men who had been hit by crossfire groaned and screamed. A few who had gotten the stuffing beaten out of them by the anarchists were groaning. Others were simply standing around in shock, waiting for officers to tell them what to do. A few NCOs, hiding their shock under decades of experience, were already shouting orders.
Alone on his watchtower, Millard had the privacy to say exactly what was on his mind.
“What the absolute fuck?”
***
Brax Junior narrowed his eyes as he peeked around the corner of the hallway. He glared down the hallway at the impostor. He knew, in reality, it was not an impostor. But it was more fun to pretend. He grinned, then drew back and away from the corner. To give him the slip. The impostor, that was. He grinned, then sprang out of cover. He charged, hissing. The impostor charged right back at him, hissing as well.
Brax smashed into the mirror.
He hadn’t realized it was so close.
The mirror shuddered and then fell from its hook. Since it was as tall as Dad was, this meant it had quite a way to fall. Brax squeaked and threw up his hands to try and knock it aside. But before it could squash him flat and break and get Grandma mad at him, a hand lashed out and caught the edge of the mirror. Swinging it back up, Auntie Liv looked down at Brax.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, Auntie Liv,” Brax said, grinning as he leaped to his feet. Looking at the mirror, he saw that there was a pretty big crack in it now. He hissed. “Dang...”
Liv glanced down the stairs that led to the first floor of the house, then back over her shoulder at the corridor that led to the various bedrooms that everyone was staying in. She looked at Brax, then touched her thumb to the crack. She started to slide her thumb along the crack and as she moved it, a pale glow flared. Once she was done, the crack was gone. The mirror was whole once more. Brax oohed.
“How did you do that?”
“I dunno,” Liv said, shrugging. Her nose started to gleam with red. She sniffled and wiped at it, muttering a bad word under her breath.
“Are you okay, Auntie?” Brax asked, his tail lashing nervously.
“Fine,” Liv said. Then, grumpily, she held up her finger. “One second.”
When she had emerged from her room, she had something weird jammed into her nose. It looked like a tube of white cotton, with a tiny string connected to a tiny ring at the base of it. The ring bounced against her chin and she sighed slightly as she stuck the cotton up her nose even more.
“What’s that?” Brax asked.
“Liam’s Mom gave it to me,” Liv said, shrugging. “She called it a thing for soaking up girl blood. At least, I think that’s what she meant.” She shrugged again. “Liam said Earth people have a weird thing about saying some things are girl shi... stuff. Girl stuff. And some stuff is boy stuff. So I figure it’s just a bandage for girls that’s priced ten times more than a normal one is. And it’s a stupid shape.”
Brax cocked his head.
Mom walked up the stairs. She paused, seeing th
e two of them. Her tail twitched. “Liv, why do you have a tampon in your nose?”
Liv’s brow furrowed.
“Come on, Brax! Dad wants to take us to the park.”
“Yay!” Brax clapped.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Liv asked, frowning.
Fizit snorted. “With Meg, me, you, Tethis and Liam there?”
Liv frowned even harder. Then she grinned. “Good point.”
***
Lucy and Liam sat next to one another, watching as Brax ran around in excited circles. Tanbark flew under his feet as he squealed and flailed.
“I’m not sure if it’s the park he likes, or that jacket,” Liam said.
Brax was wearing thick gloves with extra bits of tape to prevent his claws from having any accidents. This hadn’t stopped him from excitedly doing up and undoing every single zipper the jacket had several times. He had also tugged each pocket out and was now trying to make the pockets flap like he was a bird. The whole effect was that it made him sound and look like an entire thrift store being shaken in a paint mixer.
Lucy rubbed her hands together. “Is, uh, Tethis okay?”
Tethis and Meg were both walking together around the edges of the park. Meg was adapting fairly well to California. Her eyes were locked on the sky – the bright blue of it spread in every single direction. Liam found his own eyes dragged from his son to that sky. He had spent so much time on Earth in houses, in cars, being shuttled from place to place. Now? Now he had time to really grasp what it was to see sky. Not the enclosed bubble world of Purgatory. He blinked away tears.
“I mean, she’s wearing four layers,” Lucy said, not noticing Liam’s tears. He wiped at his face, trying to hide them. “It’s only fifty eight degrees, it’s barely jacket weather.”
“S-She’s smaller,” Liam said.
Lucy looked at her son.
Liam smiled. “Sorry, just...” He wiped at his nose again. “I haven’t seen sky in years.”
Lucy slid her arm around Liam’s shoulder.
Simone walked over to stand behind them. “Vanderbilt,” she said, her voice hard. “Just got a call from my CO. We need to get packed.”
Liam rubbed at his face. “Why?” he asked, standing. “The press release isn’t for days.”
“Things have come up,” Simone said. “They didn’t give me any details, but...” She paused. “Listen, I’ve heard enough orders over the years. I can recognize when someone is scared shitless.”
Lucy gulped. “Should I pack too?”
“Yeah,” Simone said. Liam stood, shocked at that.
“Do you think we’re in danger?” Liam asked, gesturing to Fizit. Fizit, who was watching Brax like a hawk, pushed the stroller that had Marion over to the playground pit. She scooped up Brax with her normal efficiency.
“I figure it’s better to be too safe,” Simone said.
Lucy couldn’t argue with that.
***
Liam sat next to Brax, whose nose was practically glued to the window. Across the aisle, Fizit had closed the window shut and was trying to pretend she was on the ground from her set, concentrated expression. Tethis and Liv had been a bit sky-sick as well. Meg paced up and down the central aisle of the jet, her wings folded tight behind her back.
“I could fly faster than this,” she said, grumbling.
“We’re going five hundred knots,” Simone said, looking up from her firearm. She had carefully disassembled it and was putting it back together again. She had set up a small tray on her fold down table and was taking advantage of the open spaces of the private jet. Not only was she fiddling with her gun, she also had room to let her legs hang out. It was weird to sit on an airplane and not have the normal spiel telling people to buckle their seat belts.
Marion started to fuss and whimper in Liam’s lap. He shifted in his seat and started to rock his legs up and down. Marion’s face started to turn increasingly red and she screwed up her face.
“Ah dang,” Liam muttered. “Mom, help?”
His mom, who was seated in the row ahead of him, reached up and tugged her sleep mask ever so slightly off. “She might be fussing because of the change in pressure, honey.”
“What do I do?” Liam asked.
“Hmm,” Mom said, turning to face him. She leaned against the window and smiled. “You can hold her until its over. And repeat after me: No matter how much she cries, it is only temporary.” She smiled as Marion started to upgrade from fussing to wailing and screaming.
Liam frowned. He started to rock Marion back and forth as Brax gasped and wriggled his tail in excitement. He had seen another cloud that looked impressive to him. Liam craned his head back. A row behind him, looking utterly dwarfed by her first class seat, Tethis was sitting cross legged with the family laptop sitting on her green thighs. She was wearing huge noise canceling headphones which were plugged into the laptop and had several blankets wrapped around her, giving her the appearance of a messy pseudo-burrito.
“An army of Anubis?” she muttered. “That’s more of a Set thing. And why would Anubis be offering deals to would be rebels? This Scorpion King should have beseeched Set!” She clucked her tongue.
“Tethis,” Liam said.
Tethis gasped. “Look out, Rick!”
Liam juggled Marion until she was sprawled against his shoulder. With his arm free, he reached out and slapped Tethis’ shoulder. Tethis jerked her head up, blinking at him. She took off her noise canceling headphones and slapped the pause button on her laptop.
“What?” she asked.
“Magic?” Liam asked, grinning as he held up his whimpering and crying infant.
Tethis smiled. She pulled out her crystal foci and the small power source she had brought with her from Purgatory. The tip of the foci glowed and when she touched it to Marion’s forehead, the baby’s whimpers started to slow, then stopped. She sniffed, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Liam smiled, then set his child back down in his lap.
Mom glared at him.
“What?” Liam asked.
Mom glared harder.
Liam grinned, slightly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
Mom slowly slipped her sleep mask back on and then turned wordlessly forward.
Fizit looked away from her screen. “I’ve been worrying about something.”
“Like that’s never happened before,” Brax muttered to Liam, grinning. Liam shushed his son.
“What about, Fizit?” Simone asked, clicking another piece back into her gun. Meg leaned against the back of the chair next to Simone, peering down at her firearm. Meg had gotten a taste for handguns during the battle of the Endless Mine. It turned out that having superhuman strength turned ‘kickback’ into a problem for other people. And when you never had to correct your aim between shots, you could be damn accurate.
“Are we sure that Ares cannot move through the portal without us being aware of it?” Fizit asked.
Liam frowned, his hand going to Marion’s head. He gently caressed her hair. It was growing thicker and thicker these days, and feather-like scales were beginning to appear between the strands. The effect was... odd. But not ugly or unseemly. And Liam was fairly certain that that wasn’t entirely based off his opinion, being her father. “The gate’s guarded and on watch, warded by the best spells we could make, blessed by several gods of secrets, and only on for a few seconds every few weeks.”
Fizit nodded.
“So, why are you worried?” Meg asked. “Also, what’s that?”
“It’s the action,” Simone muttered.
Fizit sighed. “I was reading some of the news stories. The revolution in that southern state...” she waved her hand.
“Chile?” Liam asked.
“Colombia, I think,” Simone said. “If you’re talking about the communist revolution. If it’s the drug thing, you might be thinking of Mexico.” She paused. “Technically, Colombia too.”
“Holy shit, what the fuck happened to South America?” Liam asked.
>
“It doesn’t matter,” Fizit said, shaking her head. “What matters is the news report I read mentioned that the revolutionaries are calling on Purgatorian gods. They specifically made note of that.”
Liv, who had been radiating with a nervous tension for the entire flight, snorted. “Good luck.”
Everyone turned to look at her. Well, everyone save for Tethis, Brax, Marion and Mom, who each had their own more interesting things to contend with. Liv sighed at their curious looks.
“When I was born, Granddad – that’s Zeus, Simone,” Liv said, nodding to Simone. Simone got that expression that meant ‘oh right, my life is fucking weird now, isn’t it?’ Liam recognized it well. He had worn it more than once. “He said that when the gods were banished to Purgatory, they lost contact with all their followers who weren’t banished.”
“I thought they banished everyone who didn’t convert,” Simone said, snapping another part of her handgun together. Liam wanted to say it was the chamber, but he knew that he was likely wrong.
Liv smirked at him.
“...and lots of people don’t convert that easy,” Liam said, shaking his head. “And the Manchians couldn’t banish everyone.” He frowned. “And the aliens would want to control the experiment. That’d mean ensure that it could be isolated from external contaminants.” He rubbed his chin. “I wonder how many places in the solar system they tested Purgatory to see how far a connection between a god and their worshipers can stretch.”
Liv nodded. “Which is why Ares mucking around on Earth? No biggie. He’d have to give up his entire power base on Purgatory to come here. Then what’s he gonna do?”
Simone pointed at Tethis. “What about her power crystals?”
“Those are arcane magic, not divine magic,” Liv said, shrugging. “Different shit.”
Simone frowned.
Liv smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ares would be cutting off his nose to spite his face if he tried to start a ruckus on the Earth.”
“Earth has a population of almost eight billion people,” Liam said, his voice soft. “If he convinces even one percent of them to worship them, then he’d effectively have replaced and doubled his original power base on Purgatory. And, holy shit, we can’t even remember which revolution or undeclared civil war that Fizit was even referencing. That’s not even getting into the USA’s weirdo militias, the far-right movements in Europe-”
Grapeshot Pantheon Page 6
