by J. E. Taylor
His grip on her hair loosened and he studied the consistency of her blonde locks before returning his red-eyed gaze back to hers. He swept her shirt open, staring at the black lace bra with interest.
“Don’t touch her!”
The emperor turned his head toward the soldiers and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Katrina felt the death of each soldier as they fell to the ground and with each one, a little piece of her sanity shattered. They were doomed and she shut her mind off, not allowing her thoughts to drift to Sam. Maybe he could survive, if she didn’t slip up and let this bastard know he existed.
Maybe.
His gaze landed back on her, driving all thoughts into a black hole of despair.
A sadistic smile graced his lips. “André’s wife.” His eyes narrowed and he again swept her shirt aside, running his fingertips from her lips down her neck, approaching the crest of her cleavage.
“Get away from me.” His touch was like a hundred spiders slithering over her skin and she shuddered, revolted, but she couldn’t break the invisible grip.
The sound of ripping fabric filled the hangar and Katrina gasped as her camouflage drifted in shredded tatters to the floor, leaving her standing in black lace panties and matching bra with her army boots. The hunger etched in the emperor’s face struck terror in her, heightening her powers and she broke the spell holding her in place and took a step back.
The emperor licked his lips and said the words again, but this time, they were laced with disgust and hatred. “André’s wife.”
She tried to take another step away but the grip tightened, pulling her forward instead. His hand shot out, the back of his knuckles connecting with her cheek and dropping her to the ground at his feet. Pain bloomed like a hot iron branding her skin and she blinked back the blinding flickering haze in front of her eyes, refocusing on the bastard before her.
Acute agony assaulted her head, his mind scan prodding but she held the wall to her memories intact. She cried out, the paralyzing sting reminding her of when André broke her psychic barrier.
The emperor smiled. “You will give me what I want.”
“No,” she said between clenched teeth, keeping him from controlling her mind. The sudden exit of his influence left her muscles rubbery and weak, and she collapsed onto her side, the cool floor welcoming in comparison to the hostile enemy standing over her.
The emperor crossed his arms, gnawing on his bottom lip in a familiar habit she had seen André do a thousand times when he contemplated what to do next. For the first time since they walked through the door, she really looked at the emperor, blinking back tears of shock at the similarities between this psycho and her husband. She glanced at the other Zyclonians guarding the entrance, waiting for their next command. None of them had the same features. Different shapes and sizes, just like humans. But this man, this monarch, he could have been André’s father.
The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t sire that abomination.”
Katrina clamped down on her mind again, shaken that the emperor had read her train of thought. “André’s going to kill you.”
“If he survived, all the better. I’ll finally have his head mounted on a trophy plaque over my mantel. But before I kill him, I want him to watch you and his ‘father’ die.” He made quotation marks with his fingers as he said the word father along with a distasteful smirk. He turned and nodded at his men. They converged on Katrina and Matthew pulling them to their feet and escorting them into one of the Zyclonian fighters. The emperor took a seat facing the two of them. “The world is going to watch you die on live television.”
Chapter 24
André pulled Cal onto the shore. “You okay?”
Cal nodded. “Just having a bitch of a time breathing,” he said.
“Slow your metabolism down,” André said as he looked around for anything that had survived the Zyclonian attack and his counterattack. “We have to get back to the base before it’s too late.” He put his hand out to help Cal up.
Cal accepted his hand and stood beside him. “How?”
André sighed. “I don’t know.” He looked back at the ocean. “I don’t think there’s anything left.” He looked inland. “There are a few trails that way.” He pointed to a couple distant plumes of black smoke. “Think you can make it?” he asked.
Cal nodded and they began walking.
“Thanks,” Cal said after a couple of miles.
“For what?” André asked, keeping his eye on the target ahead.
“For saving my ass.”
André shrugged. “You were lucky enough to be in the jet with me.” He glanced over at his friend. “I wasn’t able to save anyone else.” He blinked back the red film covering his eyes, the weight of the words slamming into his chest hard enough to stop the breath in his throat. He stopped, closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He’d be no good to Katrina and his father if he died out here in the desert. When he opened his eyes, he scanned the horizon, his eyes homing in on a hunk of metal. “What the hell is that?”
Cal cocked his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What is it?”
“It looks like one of those antique solar trucks.”
André didn’t understand. He looked between the vehicle and Cal. “What does it do?”
Cal ignored André and jogged over to the vehicle, opening the door.
André followed, skirting around to the other side of the cab and opening the passenger door. The smell that wafted out of the cab made him gag. In the back seat lay an old human skeleton lying on some blankets that had been infested and long deserted by all manners of creatures.
“This is an antique.” Cal ran his hands over the big round wheel in front of him and dropped his gaze to the push pad on the dash. “We’re in luck. Hop in.” His breath wheezed and he smiled.
André saw the light of possibilities in his friend’s eyes and the excitement rattling his heart. “Easy, Cal, you have to conserve oxygen.”
Cal nodded and closed his eyes, gathering his wits and doing as André said. When he opened his eyes, they focused on the gearshift. “This could get us there if it still works.” He reached for the pad and pushed. The truck lurched forward. “No way,” he said, looking at André.
“Do you know how to work this thing?”
Cal studied the gears and the pedals. “I drove one once when I was in high school. They had it at a fair in Kansas.” He pushed the clutch in with his left foot and turned the ignition. The truck made a screaming noise as the gears that hadn’t moved in two hundred years were asked to move. “Shit.”
André opened the glove compartment and pulled out the manual. He flipped through it quickly and then put his hands on the dash. “Try again,” he said and closed his eyes, concentrating on what he read, breathing his power into this behemoth of a vehicle.
The engine turned over and Cal let out a whoop.
“Hang on,” André said, jumping out of the cab. He looked at the pin holding the cab to the rusted-out trailer and pulled, releasing the cab and making it lighter for travel. He jumped back in the passenger seat, smiling. “Do whatever you do to make this thing move.”
Cal shifted into first gear, released the clutch and pushed the gas pedal. The cab rumbled forward. “I don’t know how far we’ll get,” he said, as he shifted the gears. The engine screamed again, but kept going. Cal looked at the instruments. “At least there seems to be a charge.” He tapped the solar charge indicator to make sure. The needle stayed put, showing the vehicle had half of its battery life. Cal got through the ten gears and had the vehicle flying down the road at a lumbering hundred miles an hour.
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” André asked.
“To be honest, I didn’t think it would go faster than fifty. It had to have been sitting there for a couple centuries.” He glanced at André. “It’s a miracle it’s moving, never mind going close to a hundred miles an hour.”
“Just drive,”
André said, closing his eyes and concentrating as he gripped the door handle. His breath came in the same shallow rasps as Cal’s, his lungs burning from exertion and lack of oxygen. He lowered his head and the engine revved, pushing the truck faster. He opened his eyes, watching as the needle on the speedometer buried itself beyond the one hundred and sixty mark.
“Don’t use all your strength, André,” Cal said, taking a quick glance in his direction. “You’ll need some juice when we get there.”
André nodded, dialing back a little. The wheels spun on the empty highway, going over a hundred and fifty miles an hour between the actual mechanics of the truck and André’s silent mental strength.
“How much longer?” André asked, his energy level tipping toward the empty mark like the energy needle on the dashboard. He knew he should conserve, but he needed to get home to make sure Katrina and Sam were safe.
Cal’s hands were on the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. They could see the dome in the distance now. “Less than a half an hour.” He glanced at André. “Don’t exhaust yourself to the point that you can’t recover. We’re gonna need you as strong as possible.”
“I need you alive in case I get into trouble.” André glanced at Cal. “And we’re pushing the limit on that.”
Cal took a shallow breath. “I’ll be fine,” he said more to convince himself than André.
André closed his eyes again and pushed. The truck lurched faster, now making noises in protest of the speed André was making it go.
The next fifteen minutes seemed to take forever.
“Ease up, André,” Cal said as they approached the outside of the outer base.
André pulled the power back inside and the truck sputtered, stalling a few hundred yards from the door.
Cal sat back in the seat, wheezing and staring at the hangar. “I think someone’s inside.”
André closed his eyes, concentrating, putting feelers out there and coming up empty. He glanced at the crease between Cal’s eyes and the worry lines etched in his face. “If they are here, I can handle them.” He took a small breath. “Can you make it to the door?”
Cal nodded. “I think so,” he said as he looked at the cameras.
“They aren’t working at the moment. Haven’t been since we hit the horizon,” André said with a smile. “Come on.” He tumbled out of the cab. They met in front of the truck and started walking toward the door.
“You look like shit, André.”
André chuckled. “You don’t look much better, buddy.”
“I’m serious. You look like the walking dead, like you haven’t slept in months.”
André shrugged. “I’m a little tired, but I’ll manage.”
Cal stumbled.
André caught and steadied him. He kept his arm around Cal’s waist for the remainder of the trek.
“Thanks,” Cal hissed as André leaned him against the wall by the door.
André put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated, trading a glance with Cal and steeling himself for a battle. “If they are in there, they’ll know we’re here the minute this door opens. Get in and get behind me, understand?”
Cal nodded.
André mentally unlocked the door and turned the doorknob, swinging it open. The rush of air pushed him back a step as he entered with Cal in his wake. The door shut behind them.
It took a second for André’s eyes to adjust and comprehend the two sets of red eyes running in their direction. His heart tripped into overtime, running adrenaline through his tired body, fueling the sudden fury etching his skin. André lashed out, the power exploding from him and eviscerating the intruders like he did to the meteor so many years ago. He sucked in a huge breath of oxygen, shaking from both the rush of relief from his lungs and the power expenditure.
Stepping farther into the hangar, his gaze rose to the screen and his heart dropped. “Oh God,” he whispered and broke into a run.
Chapter 25
The Zyclonian fighter jet blasted through the hangar walls and into the dome, traveling faster than any earthbound vehicle, arriving at the Dallas football arena within a matter of minutes, crushing the crafts it settled over. Inside the stadium, the clueless fans cheered as the Dallas Cowboys advanced on the Denver Broncos.
Katrina traded a glance with Matthew. The chains binding her wrists dug into her flesh with every yank from her captors. The emperor led the procession, killing anyone who dared intercept his march. Katrina had time to study the machines they rolled in with them and it took a few minutes, but then she understood their use and a cold fear plunged into her stomach, turning her bowels into watery fire.
They were death machines, instruments of torture meant for her and Matthew.
The band of Zyclonians converged into the stadium, unchallenged, even with their torture chairs within clear eyeshot. They stopped at the entrance to the field and the emperor turned to one of his subordinates. “Keep us on the air,” he commanded.
Katrina clenched her teeth, knowing Sam was home watching the game. She prayed for André, for him to be alive, to find a way back, to get to Sam before this madman did.
The emperor turned and stared at her and a crease appeared between his eyes.
Katrina shut down her thoughts, closing his small window of opportunity.
He swung his gaze back to the spectacle before him and marched their band onto the turf, disrupting the final minutes of the first half.
Katrina had a moment to smile, this arrogant bastard’s entrance diluted by the crowd’s screams as Dallas’s quarterback launched a Hail Mary toward the end zone. Her smile vanished when the ball burst into flames in mid-air, stunning the crowd into silence.
“What the hell?” the announcer’s voice filled the stadium.
Chapter 26
Sam stared at the television, his mouth open in shock at the sight of his grandfather and mother dragged onto the football field in chains. Panic throbbed through his bones and he scanned the room, his gaze landing on the key rack, stopping on the single set for the craft parked in the driveway.
After a moment of hesitation, he glanced toward the kitchen and his grandmother lost in the process of preparing dinner, trying to forget what lay ahead for her family. It didn’t take a genius to understand why she was so engrossed, and he took advantage of the situation.
Sam flipped the television off, peeled the keys from the peg and headed out of the house.
Guilt made him pause at the door. “Grandma, I’m going out for a little while,” he yelled. “The game’s a blowout. I’ll be back before dinner.” He closed the front door and bolted across the lawn, jumping into the hovercraft before she could intercede.
Without another glance, he sped away, praying the cops wouldn’t pull him over and the usual Sunday drivers would stay the hell out of his way.
“Come on, you piece of shit,” he muttered, pushing the craft to its limit, driving much more aggressively than he ever would with his parents in the craft. But the thing was not fast enough and he gave it an added mental push, catapulting into hyper-drive, the sonic boom shaking the craft and everything in its wake.
Chapter 27
Katrina struggled against the soldiers holding her in place, but she was no match for four men, each with strength equal to André’s. One grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.
“I will enjoy seeing you torn apart,” he whispered in her ear.
“Fuck you!” she growled and the emperor sent a glare over his shoulder. With it came an invisible gag, silencing her.
The emperor took the microphone from the official. “Ladies and gentlemen. I am Viktor, the Emperor of Zyclon, ruler of the known universe, including this secluded galaxy.” He gave a nod to the soldiers with the chairs and they dragged the machines to the fifty-yard line and parked them side by side.
With another nod, the soldiers surrounding Katrina each grabbed a limb, carrying her to the first of the two machines. She twisted in their grasp but couldn’
t break free. As the gag was lifted, her screams and curses echoed in the stadium. She freed one of her hands and scratched a soldier’s cheek, drawing blood. Her moment of satisfaction ended with a hard smack that left her dazed enough for the men to strap her to the table. She glanced at Matthew and his cool demeanor as his wrists and ankles were bound, wondering how in God’s name he could remain so calm. He met her gaze and the muscles in his jaw jumped, giving away his fury.
“I am looking for a traitor from my planet,” the emperor said, looking into the cameras, touching the scar on his face. “His name is André, and I will kill anyone who gives him safe harbor.” He turned toward Matthew and Katrina.
Katrina let out a wordless roar, pulling against her bindings, her anger too much for her to contain. “You exiled a six-year-old, you bastard! He wasn’t a traitor. He was a child!”
Matthew didn’t fight; instead he glared at the emperor. “My son is not a traitor.” He projected his voice above Katrina’s wild shrieks, loud enough for the microphone to pick up his words, and the emperor spun on his heels, matching Matthew’s glare.
The wound in Matthew’s shoulder split open and he gritted his teeth but did not cry out. “You can go to hell.”
“You both granted him safe harbor and this world will see what happens to those who open their doors to this traitor,” the emperor said, crossing toward Katrina. “This whore not only opened her door, she opened her legs, so I’m offering a treat to anyone who wants a piece of this filthy bitch.” With a nod, the table split, stretching her legs wide and she cried out in pain. He smiled, waving toward her, opening the invitation to the entire coliseum.
“You bastard,” Katrina screamed and her gaze darted to the crowd. At first no one moved, but then she saw a group of Hells Angels glance at one another. The feral smiles that surfaced slammed the fight right out of her, replacing it with the memories of the brutality visited on her years ago, and with it came the debilitating fear.
