Artifact

by Vaughn Heppner

  That told Marcus several important things. Engines and electronics still worked. Wires could carry electrical power for short distances even though the long-distance lines didn’t work right now.

  Behind the headlights, a man shouted at him.

  Marcus understood the language. He raised his hands in the air.

  A man with a cloth wrapped around his head stepped into view. He cradled an AK-47. He shouted instructions.

  Marcus lay on his stomach, putting his hands behind his head.

  Soon, three men stood nearby. Each likely aimed his assault rifle at him. Marcus didn’t believe these three were villagers. They had a rough edge to them and they seemed nervous that he had friends.

  One of them poked the back of Marcus’s head with the barrel of an assault rifle.

  “Who are you?” the man demanded.

  “I’m a Frenchman,” Marcus said. “I’m here to help restore the electricity.”

  “What happened?” the man demanded. “Why doesn’t the power work anymore?”

  “The Americans have a new weapon,” Marcus said.

  “That is a lie!”

  “It is true,” Marcus said. “The French government has sent aid—”

  “Why are you alone?” the man demanded.

  “An American drone shot up our convoy,” Marcus said.

  The three men whispered among themselves. Marcus could hear every word with his keen hearing. They debated the idea among themselves. Two believed Marcus. The leader did not. The leader suspected this was a French trick, come to rescue the villagers.

  That’s when Marcus realized he was right. These were bandits or terrorists, taking advantage of the chaos. It gave him the direction he would take with these men.

  “Can you fix radios?” the leader asked.

  “I can, indeed,” Marcus said.

  “Then get up. You will fix mine. Then…then we shall see.”

  Marcus climbed to his feet, marching ahead of the three. Someone ground truck gears. The vehicle paced him, lighting the way to the biggest building. It might have been a post office. Several other trucks were parked in the small lot.

  The running truck stopped, keeping its headlights on as the motor idled.

  “The radio is inside,” the leader said, poking Marcus in the back.

  Marcus turned around and plucked the weapon out of the man’s hands. It astounded the leader. Marcus knew how to move fast. He shot the leader through the heart. He shot the other two as well for good measure.

  The lesser men had such dulled reflexes, nothing like Jack Elliot.

  Moving fast, Marcus fired above the headlights. When he reached the truck, the driver was slumped over dead at the wheel. The corpse had a bullet in the brain.

  If there were other bandits or terrorists in the village, they must have been asleep. Marcus threw the dead man onto the street, climbed into the truck and put it in reverse. He had almost a full tank of gas. That was good.

  Marcus braked, put the truck into first gear and roared out of the village. No one gave chase. He hadn’t expected they would.

  At that moment, he decided to head for Tripoli in order to pick up more gear. Once he had what he needed, he planned to head to the nearest underground station. Speed could be critical. Whatever had happened to the world, he planned to take advantage of it. For that, he needed a disciplined organization and high tech. The stations could well contain both.

  Marcus tightened his grip of the steering wheel. Later, he could capture Selene. She might be the smartest person on the planet now. She would help him figure out his next step. And Agent Elliot—

  Marcus scowled. He had a score to settle with Jack. Mother, Frederick and Hela had all learned what it meant to make him an enemy. Jack Elliot was going to learn that soon enough, too. On that, Marcus vowed.

  -97-

  3 DAYS LATER

  CENTRAL MEDITERRANEAN

  The Libyan coast fell away to the south as the dhow headed for Italy. The boat was of an ancient design, propelled by sail alone.

  Jack stood at the prow, watching the waves. He had seen the Northern Lights in the Libyan night sky. Selene had explained their significance to him. Every night the lights had seemed a little brighter and the stars dimmer. What did that mean for humanity? Was there a way to reverse what Mother had started with the Earth’s core?

  Jack sighed.

  Marcus had escaped. That troubled him. He had a feeling they hadn’t seen the last of the supposed superman. It was good to know Mother wasn’t coming back. There was no dimensional portal, not until someone built something like the underground pyramid again. Jack hoped the hound had won the fight between them.

  As Jack stood at the prow, his eyes grew heavy. He hadn’t been able to sleep well ever since the soldier had slunk away. He had expected Marcus’s return and had been extra vigilant because of that. Under those conditions, Jack had slept like a wild creature, jerking awake frequently, aiming a heater at the slightest stir of air.

  We should be safe out here, at least.

  Jack closed his eyes, and jerked awake some time later. He turned. One of the crew was several feet from him. The Libyan smiled, although the man had one hand behind his back.

  Here we go. Jack stared at the man.

  That made the Libyan nervous. The man finally asked, “I wish to know if everything is satisfactory?”

  Jack didn’t answer. He just watched the man. What did the Libyan hold behind his back?

  A clunk sounded. The man shuffled his feet, kicking a rope over something, a knife, a sap, something.

  “That’s a good start,” Jack said. “Now, back up.”

  The Libyan bowed his head, smiling wider than ever. The other two Libyans in the dhow watched, one at the tiller, the other patching sail with a needle and thread.

  “Did you spot anything out there in the sea?” the Libyan asked.

  “I said back up.”

  The man hesitated too long.

  A heater appeared in Jack’s hand. The thumb hovered over the switch.

  “You understand that these are troubled times,” the Libyan said, licking his lips. “The world…is changing. I must feed my family. I must—”

  Jack moved toward the man.

  The sailor at the tiller pushed. The dhow moved sharply. Jack staggered because of that and went down to one knee.

  The Libyan standing before him must have been waiting for that. He scooped his hand low, coming up with a knife, a wicked little blade. He rushed Jack.

  Jack sighed inwardly. He’d had enough of death, of killing. The world likely needed everyone who was left. He let the Libyan close, and judged the knife thrust a practiced one. The man obviously knew how to wield a blade.

  It didn’t prove to be good enough, however. The knife and hand thrust forward. Jack shifted just enough to avoid the weapon and struck the man’s wrist. The knife fell a second time. The man stared at Jack, his eyes growing larger every second. Agent Elliot hit him in the face, catapulting the man backward.

  The crazy thing about all this was that Selene slept soundly throughout. She was exhausted just like Jack.

  Five minutes later, Jack had the three Libyan crewmembers backed up against a gunwale. The Libyan coast was still visible. It seemed that while he’d been sleeping, the crew had shifted course.

  “I should kill the lot of you,” Jack said.

  “Please,” the youngest of them begged. “We are—”

  “Shut up,” Jack told him.

  The young Libyan did. The other two watched with bitter eyes.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Jack said.

  “Oh thank you, merciful—”

  The Libyan shut up a second time as Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re going to swim, though,” he told them. “See the shoreline out there.”

  “It’s too far,” the oldest Libyan said, the one who had shifted the tiller.

  Jack shook his head, jerking a thumb at Selene. “She swam over one
hundred miles just a few days ago. This—”

  “It is too far. We will drown. If you wish to kill us…” the oldest Libyan shrugged.

  Jack studied the trio, the three who would have killed him without compunction.

  “Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll strike a deal. Show me how your dhow works and I’ll allow you to go near shore. Then, you’re going to swim the rest of the way.”

  The young one nodded happily. The other two watched Jack even more carefully.

  “Otherwise,” Jack said. “I’ll burn you down here and now, and push your corpses overboard.”

  Sullenly, the older two agreed. They showed Jack the tricks to the dhow and then headed back toward the coast.

  -98-

  CENTRAL MEDITERRANEAN

  Selene stirred at the sound of splashing. She thought she’d heard shouts. They dwindled as the dhow creaked in its ancient rhythm.

  Later, her eyes opened. She yawned, moving her limbs. It felt good to have slept so peacefully. She sat up, sipped some water and finally looked around.

  Jack was at the tiller. The wind made the triangular sail billow.

  “This is better than marching through the desert,” she said.

  “Yes,” Jack agreed.

  Selene sighed, laying back, putting her hands behind her head. The flashes no longer made her mind feel like an out-of-control top. She was woozy at times. But if she remained still, the feeling went away.

  Sitting up again, stretching, she had the feeling that something was off. That was too bad. She had—

  “Hey,” she said. “Where are the others?”

  “They left some time ago,” Jack said.

  “What? Why? How did they leave?”

  “Who can know why they jumped overboard and began to swim for shore?” Jack said.

  “Agent Elliot,” Selene said. “I demand you tell me what happened.”

  He did.

  “And you never woke me up?” Selene asked.

  “You looked so peaceful,” he said. “I didn’t have the heart.”

  She thought about that. After a time, she looked away. It had started for her on the high seas. Now, it looked like it was ending on the water. All the people she’d called friends were gone. Many others she’d just known as acquaintances might be…dead.

  Selene shivered. What a dreadful word that was. There had been too much death these past few days. It was incredible so much had happened in so short a time.

  “What do we do if…?” she left the question unasked.

  “We’re headed for Rome,” Jack said. “If the lights are going out of civilization, we’ll have to make our choices then. If not, I need to contact D17. They have to know what happened. Then, we have to see if any of the stations are left and go from there.”

  “That makes sense,” Selene said.

  For the next hour, Jack steered the dhow north. Selene got up and helped with the sail. She knew the sea and she knew boats.

  They ate later, and Selene became very thoughtful.

  “What are thinking?” Jack asked her.

  “The explosion,” she said.

  “Which one?”

  “The big one at the end,” she said, “the one that sent the underground pyramid into the sky. The destruction that made sure Mother was never coming back.”

  “What about it?”

  “Why did it go nuclear like that?” Selene asked. “I mean the giant mushroom cloud at the end.”

  “You said because of the lava world gushing into it,” Jack replied.

  “The more I think about it, the more I’m not sure that makes sense.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “That’s what’s troubling me,” Selene said. “What if…”

  “Yes?” Jack asked.

  “What if I let something alien onto the Earth? What if the alien thing was smart and it did something to the pyramid that blew it sky-high?”

  “I’d call that problem solved,” Jack said.

  “Or maybe just begun,” Selene said.

  Jack spit over the side of the boat, shrugging afterward. “Maybe, maybe, maybe,” he said. “Right now, I know that we’re alive. We beat Mother, got rid of her and stopped her from destroying everything at a blow. Maybe the stations are still spinning the core faster, but we’re going to stop that if we can. Therefore, now isn’t the time to worry about it. Now, it’s time to enjoy a few moments of peace and congratulate ourselves that we won this round.”

  Selene realized this was the longest speech she’d ever heard Jack make. “You’re right. Let’s enjoy these moments of peace.”

  Jack nodded.

  Selene had found a bottle of wine, which surprised her. Maybe the Libyans had drunk while out at sea. She now grabbed it by the neck and approached Agent Elliot at the tiller. She raised the bottle, swinging it suggestively from side to side.

  “How about joining me for some sips as we swap tall stories?” she said. “Then, we can see what happens afterward.”

  The slight grin appeared at the corner of Jack’s mouth again, and he nodded once more to let her know he understood her meaning. Afterward, he tied the tiller into place and went to join her for some well-deserved wine.

  -Epilogue-

  It took Jack and Selene longer to reach Rome than Agent Elliot had expected. It was chaotic in the city, although a few homes had lights. The Italian military supplied whatever order there was.

  Surprisingly, Americans still worked at the U.S. Embassy. Jack spoke to the CIA liaison there. The woman instructed him and Selene to wait.

  Three days later, Marine guards drove Jack and Selene to the airport. A U.S. Air Force bomber waited for them on the runway.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Jack told the CIA liaison.

  She shrugged. Maybe it didn’t make sense to her, either. It appeared, though, that she had her orders.

  Jack and Selene shook her hand and boarded the jet. Soon, they were airborne, heading for America.

  “Sir,” a Marine sergeant said. “If you would both come with me please.”

  The Marine guided them into a plush compartment. It had a wet bar with a man sitting on a tall stool, his back to them. Quietly, the Marine took his leave.

  “Secretary Smith?” Jack asked in surprise.

  The man swiveled around. He wore a black suit and tie with the sleeves a little too short. He had shaved away any hint of a mustache. He still had the same doughy face and pudgy hands, though.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Smith asked.

  Jack ushered Selene to the bar.

  She sat, saying, “I’d like a Bloody Mary, please.”

  Smith got up, went behind the bar and began to make the drink. After he set it on the bar, he looked at Jack.

  “A brandy will do just fine,” Jack said.

  Smith poured him one.

  Jack sipped, sighing afterward. It was good. “I don’t understand why you’re here, Mr. Secretary.”

  “Really?” Smith said. “You have no idea?”

  “I think I do,” Selene said.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Smith said. “I’m looking forward to hearing exactly what happened. I’ve only heard the briefing Jack gave the CIA liaison.”

  “What is this about?” Jack asked.

  “This,” Smith said, waving a hand, “is an indication of just how important you two have become. Just to let you know, we’ve stormed two underground stations so far. We took incredible losses doing so.”

  “Are you talking about D17?” Jack asked.

  “No,” Smith said, “the U.S. Army. We won in the end because compared to the station personnel we had an unlimited number of bodies. Some of the country’s top scientists have begun working on the enemy’s weaponry. We want to mass produce them for ourselves.”

  “Civilization is still hanging on?” Selene asked.

  “That’s an astute question,” Smith said. “The short answer is yes. The Earth has taken terrible damage, no doub
t about that. Many countries are mere shells of what they were. Disease and starvation are running rampant just about everywhere. That’s the bad news.”

  “There’s good news?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Smith said. “We discovered something incredibly important. The underground pyramid—”

  “You know about that?” Jack asked.

  “We learned about it several days ago,” Smith said. “That was after the army overpowered the personnel in Station Five. When the pyramid exploded, it began an automatic reaction in the various stations. They immediately began slowing the Earth’s core instead of repelling it.”

  “Ah,” Selene said, “interesting.”

  “Yes,” Smith said. “The magnetic field is already decaying from its intense setting. That means given enough time, we can rebuild what we lost. We know Mother almost destroyed civilization. If the spin had continued any longer…”

  “How do you know Mother’s name?” Jack asked.

  “I told you. We interrogated captured station personnel. They told us many interesting things.”

  Selene sipped her drink, staring at a bulkhead.

  “Maybe we can use their advanced technology to help rebuild faster,” Smith said.

  “We did it then,” Jack said. “We won.”

  “Well,” Smith said, “that depends on what exactly happened to Mother. We haven’t learned anything concerning her fate.”

  Selene told him the details.

  “Excellent,” Smith said after she was finished. “I think I should call Secretary King and tell her the good news.”

  “What?” Jack said. “You said King had a heart attack.”

  For the first time, Smith looked embarrassed. “We called it a heart attack. That’s what I told you over the satellite phone. In reality, Mother sent a special assassin to kill Mrs. King. The assassin simulated a heart attack in King but it cost him his life. King shot him before the simulated heart attack incapacitated her. Then, she immediately called me. We barely got her to the hospital in time.”

  Jack nodded in appreciation.

  “You just said something interesting,” Selene told Smith. “You claimed you can call the Secretary as in with a radio?”