by David Kernot
Myles just stared at the rifle. "How are you going to shoot with one hand? That thing kicks like a mule."
"I just will. Promise me, Myles, and mean it this time."
Myles closed his eyes and nodded. "Ok. Not happy about it, but yes."
"Good man," said Emerson. He stepped from the car, knelt down and gripped the rifle butt between his knees and cocked the weapon. He clicked the safety off and nodded to Myles. He crept across Amye's front yard into the house through the open front door as quietly as he could.
Inside the cool, dimly lit room, Emerson could hear movement in the kitchen. He held the SLR ready at the hip and strode inside.
Damien stepped behind Amye and put a knife to her throat. There were several Chthonian creatures standing nearby with Shudde-M'ell.
"How did you escape?" said Shudde-M'ell.
"He had help," said Damien. He frowned and glanced behind Emerson.
Emerson took a step toward Amye.
"Don't come any closer, Emerson. I'll use the knife. You know I will," said Damien.
Emerson gritted his teeth.
Amye's eyes widened. "Emerson—"
"Quiet." Damien pulled her back toward the outside door and used her as a shield. He looked over at one of the Chthonian. "Mzoambi," he said and nodded.
The chthonian stepped forward and made a humming noise. The sound burrowed itself in his head, and he couldn't help but look into its hypnotic eyes.
It would not happen again, not now that he was here with Amye. He closed his eyes and fired from the hip. The creature fell backward. Emerson opened his eyes and watched the thing fall lifeless to the floor.
Shudde-M'ell turned without a word and ran from the kitchen out the back door.
Emerson turned the rifle toward Damien, aware that he wouldn't be able to fire it until Amye was out of the way.
"Don't hide behind Amye like a coward. Release her, and I'll let you go free," said Emerson. "But you're not leaving with her. It's over."
Amye smiled, and Emerson could see the truth in Gram's words. Amye did still love him. Everything would be all right. It had to be.
"You make me sick," said Damien. "Both of you." He pulled Amye back against the outside screen.
Emerson raised the rifle, and looked for a way to shoot Damien in the leg, or the arm, anything without harming Amye, but there were no opportunities. Not yet. After everything Damien had done to him, to Dimples, he vowed he would honour his word. He would let Damien go. Amye was worth it. "I mean it. It's over. Whatever you think, you've won."
"I have," he said. He shoved Amye forward toward Emerson, at the same time slicing her throat open with the knife.
Emerson saw the life vanish from her eyes as she fell to the ground.
"No!" Emerson rushed forward.
He knelt down and covered her wound with his hand, careful not to strangle her, and he tried to stem the bleeding. But he couldn't. Nothing he did seemed to help. She never opened her eyes again.
"Stay with me, Amye! No!" But she was dead. Gone.
Rage tore through him like wildfire. He picked up the rifle and ran outside.
Damien was already halfway across Amye's back paddock. Emerson knelt into the hot red soil. He adjusted the rifle's sight and lay down onto the sunbaked soil. He took a deep, slow breath to still his rage-induced shaking. He pulled the rifle in tight against his shoulder, took aim at Damien through the sights, and pulled the rifle against his stump. He slowed his breathing and tightened his grip on the trigger. He held his breath and re-checked the sights and squeezed off two shots. It was enough. When he looked up, Damien had fallen.
Emerson scanned the horizon and could see that Myles had done his job. The bees were doing theirs, and the Chthonian creatures ran everywhere trying to avoid their toxic sting. Many of them fell down like skittles. But just to be sure, he lined as many as he could in his sights and fired. A hollow point round did a lot of damage before it exited the body, and neither Damien nor the creatures he had enlisted to whatever end would have known what hit them. It didn't give him any satisfaction. All he was, was a surgeon cutting out poison.
If Shudde-M'ell or any of his army made it to safety, they'd try to exploit the content of his arm, but they'd be in for a shock. It was so deeply encrypted it would take years to break it open. Who knew, by then he could be back in the army working on Myles' backup of the G'harne Fragments with a new cyber arm. He pushed that thought away and fired the rifle again.
He didn't stop until nothing moved across Amye's property. By then he could hear police sirens approach, and an ambulance. Myles would have called them. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Amye had gone. Dimples had gone. Nothing would bring them back.
He stepped inside and sat beside Amye on the kitchen floor. He stroked her hair and her beautiful face, and he cried until the tears blurred his vision, until the ambulance took her away forever. More than anything, he would have loved the opportunity to give her a hero's welcome.
◆◆◆
Chapter II
Suvarnabhumi Airport, Thailand
Colonel Andrew Stone climbed into the musty taxi outside of the airport terminal. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his body. His shirt stuck to his body in ways he couldn't have imagined and he tugged at it with frustration. The trip from Glastonbury in the south of England to downtown Ottawa for a special briefing, followed by a 30-hour journey from Canada, had left him drained and feeling flat. The oppressive moist heat was something else altogether. He could hardly breathe, let alone think.
"Where to, Boss?" asked the excited taxi driver.
Andrew's nostrils flared over the musty smell in the cab. He sneered. He couldn't help himself, and he tugged at his wet shirt and undid the top button. He'd been called 'Jack Sparrow' a dozen times already, and now 'Boss.' He didn't want to be here. Not now that Giselle was in England, pottering around in Glastonbury without him. He should have been with her, retired. They could have been sitting in front of a warm fire at the pub in Glastonbury. Instead, he forced a smile. "Millennium Hilton, Bangkok." General Cobb would pay dearly for requesting Andrew to fly three-quarters around the world. But a dirty bomb, a poor grade nuclear weapon in the hands of local insurgents, was not something he could turn away from easily. And he'd finally meet the Australian Sergeant, Emerson Ash, also caught up trying to quell the chaotic madness in the world.
"You Englander, boss?"
Andrew closed his eyes and shook his head. "Born there, but I lived in North America for a long time. In Canada."
"Ah… Americans all the same." The man laughed. "You military?"
Too tired to care, Andrew nodded and shut his eyes as the taxi twisted through the winding, overcrowded streets. It slowed and sped in a frantic, gut-wrenching whirlwind journey that couldn't end soon enough.
"Hey Boss, we right on time. Shangri-La Hotel."
The words spun inside his head. Are you military? We are right on time. This is the Shangri-La. The wrong hotel.
Andrew forced his eyes open, and the man was checking his watch. One hand on the steering wheel was white from being gripped so hard. The taxi driver looked up into the rear-view mirror, and the skin around his eyes tightened. Andrew glanced around at the almost-isolated street.
A woman strode toward them, camera in her hand. Even from that distance, she gestured to take his photograph. The taxi driver forced a grin. "She take photo, Boss?"
Something wasn't right.
"Drive, man, to the Hilton like I asked."
"She take your photograph first." The man lowered his driver's window and beckoned the woman over. His voice had risen. His eyes darted to the rear vision mirror once again.
Something was definitely wrong.
Andrew unclipped his seatbelt and twisted in his seat. Behind them, a car approached, driving slowly with blacked-out windows. Shit! Andrew opened the briefcase beside him and hurriedly pulled out the Glock from his diplomatic pouch. He cocked the weapon. "Drive." He yelled. "Now."
The man cringed and ignored him, gripped the steering wheel tighter with both hands. Bracing himself.
Andrew dove across the seat, pulled at the door opener and shoved hard, but the door didn't budge. He hit the window control briefly, but it was also disabled.
He leapt between the front seats, straddled the gear lever, and twisted sideways. The back passenger window disintegrated, and the inside of the cabin filled with shattered glass.
He leaned in front of the driver and fired two rounds at the woman photographer. He didn't wait to see if he'd missed, just yanked on the steering wheel. He planted his size ten military boot over the taxi driver's foot, pressed the accelerator hard, and zig-zagged down the road.
The car behind sped up for a moment and tried to draw close, and then it exploded. The rear window of the taxi shattered, and the back wheels of the vehicle lifted for a moment, losing contact with the road before landing and careening down the road.
Andrew kept driving for a short while, aware that it could be an asymmetrical attack. There still could be others involved. So far, a woman sniper, a vehicle-borne IED, but what else was next?
He drove, his eyes tearing up from glass fragments until his vision swam, and he could barely make out people and regular traffic, but everything seemed safe. All the while, the driver sat in silence, watching the Glock pointed at his chest. On his left, even with the gun in his left hand, and failing sight, Andrew would have easily pumped three rounds into the man without a miss.
He released the accelerator and jammed the brake pedal. The car lurched to a sudden stop.
"Get out before I shoot you." He waved the pistol around in the air, and the man took the hint.
Andrew reached in and calmly grabbed his briefcase, stepped out, removed the luggage from the boot. He used Siri on his smartphone to call another taxi and waited. The back and side of his head oozed with blood, where shards of glass had penetrated. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a half-finished bottle of water and rinsed his eyes.
Then he stood next to the curb, waiting for the taxi. Curse General Cobb and his wars.
Andrew stepped into the front seat of the taxi and lowered and raised the passenger window. Only then did he clip in his seat belt and return the Glock to his briefcase.
"The Millennium Hilton in Bangkok. Got it?"
The man nodded without a word and launched the taxi into a sea of cars vying for space on the busy highway.
Andrew overpaid the driver in English pounds and grabbed his bag. His head spun from the lengthy journey. Everything seemed to spin around him as if he was the centre of the universe for the briefest moment.
The entrance to the Hilton was as extravagant as most of the others he'd visited, and he chewed on his lip and wondered if they had Hilton girls ready to keep his mind off things.
"Sir. Mister Stone. You look exhausted." The young woman at the check-in counter sounded genuine. Her eyes widened as she studied him. "Would you like your room made up and get an early night?"
Andrew closed his eyes and nodded. "A doctor, I should think at first. But, yes, that would be wonderful." He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Tell me, has a General Cobb arrived yet, or a Mr. Emerson Ash?"
"Let me check… No General Cobb yet, sir, but I have a message from Mister Ash." The woman handed Andrew an envelope, and he ripped it open.
The note was short and concise. Corner of the Hilton at 8pm sharp. Be there.
Andrew checked his watch and grinned. It was five to six. Emerson had perfect timing. "Thank you, I'll get to my room and wait for the doctor. Thank you." He thanked the woman again and strode to the lift.
◆◆◆
Australian and now ex-Army sergeant, Emerson James Ash, grabbed a drink of chilled water with ice from the bar of the Hilton Hotel at Trafalgar and spun the ice around the glass. He stared at his left arm, where the military had replaced the sophisticated prosthetic arm with a new cybernetic upgrade—one without an alien device in it. It felt lighter. Less of a concern, but not as flexible. He missed that part. After Denna had disappeared into the Old Ones' device, and it had killed Amye, he wasn't really that interested in another arm. Reassignment to the reserve list had been the right thing to do, and thanks to General Cobb, a job offer as a cyber-analyst with the NSA had been a brilliant distraction. Still, when the General had called, Emerson saw it as an opportunity to look for Denna in person. Examining classified reports could only provide so much information. He'd failed Amye, but he would not fail Denna. With luck, he and Colonel Stone would find her.
◆◆◆
Andrew Stone stepped out of the elevator and strode over to the bar. His face stung from the antiseptic, and the back of his head was tender where the stitches were. He smiled on seeing General Cobb, and Emerson huddled together, discussing something. "General."
The General turned and stood. "Colonel Stone."
He shook the General's hand. "Good to see you, sir."
Emerson Ash stood. "Colonel." He held his hand.
"Emerson." Andrew stepped forward, shook Emerson's hand, then embraced him briefly. One soldier to another.
"What happened to you, Colonel?" asked Emerson.
"A welcoming party to this beautiful land. A VIED."
"Really, a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device? Out in the public?"
Andrew nodded. He sat down on a barstool and showed the barman he wanted a drink. "They got me out to a quiet part of town. Completely planned."
The General stepped closer. He was a sizeable man, tall, and he looked at Andrew's stitches. "Does it hurt?"
"Only when I smile, General."
"Okay." General Cobb waved his hands about. "These things happen. What's important is that you're here. You're fine. A few stitches, but nothing much else."
Andrew smiled. A gentle reminder that he was nothing but a tool in the General's battle plans. Had he known about the threat?
"I had one of my staff follow it up if you were wondering. Can't let the team suffer given I brought you all here. I'll take a rain-check on thank you until after we've saved the world from destruction."
Andrew had nothing to add.
Emerson glanced his way and raised his eyebrows. The sensible thing to do but hard not to react to Cobb's irritating mannerisms.
General Stone cleared his throat. "Did you bring your Geiger-counter, Colonel?"
"Yes, General."
"Then let Emerson know what's so special about this dirty bomb."
"Well. The device I found in Avebury in the United Kingdom was the same sort connected in your arm, Emerson. I used a detector tuned to a rare variant of uranium."
"Rare uranium?" said Emerson. "I thought all uranium is rare."
Andrew took a sip of his wine. "No. Uranium is abundant in its normal form. My device can find Einsteinium, which was discovered during Operation Ivy, the detonation of the first hydrogen bomb in the Pacific in nineteen fifty-two. It's a by-product of a powerful nuclear explosion and has a distinct isotopic signature. The ES two-fifty-two version they found in Japan had a half-life of about twenty days. The strange thing is the uranium that's powering the Old Ones' devices have a different isotopic signature. It isn't ES two-fifty-two, like a normal atomic blast, but ES two-sixty-three, which has a half-life of ten thousand years. Imagine the size and power of a blast required to create that. They haven't produced the isotope ES two-sixty-three yet, but it's here! We can use the Geiger-counter to find any alien tech. We should be able to find Denna."
"It is if we can get close enough." The general glanced around the room and lowered his voice. "The grave news is that intelligence shows the device and any dirty bomb is likely 100kms north from here in a cave complex in the area known as Chiang Mai."
Emerson said, "I'll be right back," and returned with a folded brochure from the front desk reception. "Chiang Mai sits in the mountainous north region once known as the Lanna Kingdom. The Old City is a square with a moat and defensive walls. There are lots
of temples, but one, the Great Temple, has giant serpents carved on all four sides."
"Serpents again?" Andrew thrust his chin out. "We'll be ready this time."
"When do we leave, General?" asked Emerson.
General Cobb checked his watch. "Down here at 6 am. We can have breakfast and head out."
◆◆◆
Emerson sat in the back of the 4WD vehicle with Colonel Stone. The General was in the front snoozing for what must have been three of the last eight hours. One of the General's aides, a First Lieutenant Williams, was doing a commendable job at driving in the mountainous countryside and avoiding cars driving in an invisible third lane down the center of the highway. Emerson wished that he could sleep, but he wasn't tired. Outside, the verges were thick with tall, vividly green grass or some wild vegetation. Fern-like plants dotted the edges here and there, and every so often tall glossy-leaved trees jutted out from the roadside. The air was scorching but not as oppressive as it had been in Bangkok. He was thankful for the car's air-conditioning. Outside, higher up the mountain range, black storm clouds filled the horizon, and rain threatened. He hoped that wasn't a sign of things to come. The Colonel's Geiger-counter sat between them, strapped tight in the sash belt. Another car headed straight for them. Andrew closed his eyes as their car hugged the road's edge. He'd heard that the road from Chiang Mai to the caves at Chiang Dao was an hour and a half. Views of Chiang Mai could wait until their return.
In his mind's eye he adopted the horse-riding stance and thrust his right arm and then his prosthesis out. He imagined that he twisted his wrists. Thrust each arm out as he formed a fist with each hand. Crossing each hand, he counted as he withdrew and thrust his hands five times before lowering himself deeper into the horse-riding position. Now he was ready for them. Like a taunt arrow ready to fly into the face of its adversary. Sometime soon he would take his revenge for the wrongs of the world.
As far as Emerson was concerned, if they could recover Denna, then this mission had some reason. If it was more about saving humanity against itself, he didn't really care. But the General was clear. Emerson would sit and wait it out, take stock and see. Make his own assessment and response. He didn't trust anyone anymore. He might have left the army. He might have joined an NSA team of analysts, but he was still at his core Army.
