Aegis League series Boxed Set

by S. S. Segran

  Ice-cold claws sunk into Gareth when he realized what it was.

  A blazing inferno engulfed the single-floor building. Three guards outside worked with a hose attached to a fire hydrant, but when the Sentry looked closer, his face twisted gruesomely. They’re not really trying to put it out! He saw the handguns tucked in their holsters. And I can’t go through the front or they’ll kill me. Damn it!

  He reversed the car until he reached the intersecting road behind him and went around to the back of the fenced office. The fire had eaten away part of the roof and smoke billowed through the gaping holes.

  The Sentry pulled out a bandana from his bag, drenched it in water from his bottle and tied it around his mouth and nose, then raced toward the wrought-iron fence. He scaled the ten-foot tall barricade and vaulted over, landing in a crouch.

  Three windows, no guards. He sprinted over to the centermost window, untouched by the fire, and slammed his elbow through the glass. Tightening his jacket to protect himself, he climbed into the burning building, ignoring the glass shards scraping his head and hands. Fumes rushed out of the broken window, temporarily blinding him. He dropped to all fours where the smoke was less dense and, blinking rapidly as scorching heat stung his eyes, kept still. His hearing left him temporarily as he concentrated on activating his powers.

  A compressed sensation spread throughout his body and a glacial cool unfurled under his skin until he no longer sensed the fire’s fury. The chill radiated from him like an aura; the flames could not touch him. He grunted as what felt like frozen spikes pierced his chest and abdomen. Still he pressed on, lowering the kinetic energy of the molecules in his body as much as possible while maintaining the functions of his internal organs. Within moments, most of the pain ebbed.

  Through gaps in the wall of smoke, he saw flames licking the stairwell to his right. Fire must’ve started from the lab . . . Think, Gareth. She said the server room was at the back of the building, on the right. Which means my left.

  The ground beneath his feet suddenly gave. He cried out, plummeting. At the last second his hands shot up, grabbing onto the edge of the hole, and he dangled above the burning laboratory. Bloody wooden floor! The fire’s eating right through it!

  Just as the flames below jumped to meet him, Gareth heaved himself back onto the main floor. Hurry, hurry . . .

  He could just make out a fortified door, slightly ajar, to his left. The Cyrillic writing on the plaque read ‘Server Room’. He dragged the heavy door open and entered.

  What the—no. No. No! There’s nothing here!

  Every single server rack in all four rows had been cleared out. The fire had worked through half the room, melting the empty shelves in its path.

  Gareth’s knees weakened. They knew. They were on to her.

  He darted ahead of the flames, nearly slipping on the steel-coated tiles as he checked each row for Ina. If the fire started in the lab, how did it get into a fortified room like this? And why hasn’t the fire suppression system kicked in?

  The likely answer terrified him.

  “Ina!” he shouted. “Ina!”

  The Sentry rounded the last row of racks and froze. Ina lay on her side, hair covering her face. He ran over and dropped to the ground. No, no, no . . .

  He delicately turned her over. Her eyes were closed, her face blank. Gareth shook her, called her name, but she didn’t respond. He brought his cheek to her mouth and nose but felt no breath. With trembling fingers he touched her neck, praying for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  No. No. Please. No.

  The fire slithered closer. Gareth lifted Ina into his arms and escaped the room. He carried her through the smoke and dodged the flames, shielding her from the blaze as support beams and walls crashed and burned around him. He found an office room near the front of the building, still unscathed. Inside, he laid her down, unzipped her jacket and started chest compressions. “Come on,” he muttered. “Come back, Ina. Come back. Please.”

  He pulled his bandana down and tilted her chin up, placing his mouth over hers, and gave repeated breaths. As he readied himself for more compressions, he caught sight of a small puncture at the base of her neck. He pushed her hair away and moved closer. His throat constricted.

  Hypodermic needle. He pressed his knuckles against his lips. His eyes stung again, but not from the fire. She was dead before the fires were lit.

  He stared at Ina’s lifeless form. Most of the color had left her face, yet it seemed as though she was just resting. He shook his head, chest tight, before breaking down completely. He gathered her into his arms. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I should have left the moment I thought something was off. I . . . oh, God. Ina, I’m sorry. He pulled her closer. I’m so sorry.

  Through the open doorway, he saw the fire surging toward him. He picked Ina up, her body a heavy mistake he knew he’d have to carry for years to come, and left the room, finding his way to the front of the building.

  The three guards outside dropped their charade with the fire hose the moment Gareth stepped through the doors. They whipped their pistols out, demanding he let go of Ina’s corpse. The Sentry fixed the men with a venomous look, honing in on them as he prepared to unleash the full extent of his ability. He felt the frenzied rise of kinetic motion in every element in his body and released a searing stream of invisible current at the first guard.

  The stocky man dropped his gun and bellowed, contorting as though possessed. He fell onto the frozen pavement, ripping at his jacket and shirt as a wave of thermal energy pierced through him. The second guard flung himself into the spray from the fire hose and drenched his body as wisps of smoke rose from his skin and clothes, but the nozzle turned a glowing red and the water evaporated at Gareth’s command. The last man had collapsed, shaking uncontrollably. Gareth reveled. Letting the fury take over felt good, liberating.

  “One of you murdered her!” he roared. “And this—this is what you get!”

  He pushed further, intensifying the vibration of their molecules. The guards had stopped fighting and lay spread-eagle on the ground, twitching.

  Something inside him suddenly thundered upon the realization of what he was doing. Wait! Stop! You’re killing them!

  Gareth let go of his abilities completely. With one last disgusted look at the guards, he carried Ina around the block to his car just as the wailing of ambulances and fire trucks came into earshot. By the time the emergency vehicles arrived, he was already gone.

  39

  Tegan stirred, opening her eyes slightly. In the darkness, she heard someone speaking as though in a whisper but couldn’t make out the words. The voice went on for some time, then fell silent. No movement followed, piquing the teenager’s curiosity.

  She carefully tiptoed around her friends as they slept, and crept past the small dining room into the kitchen. She found Marshall hunched over the sink in the dimness, his back to her. The Sentry’s phone laid face-down on the countertop.

  “Marshall,” she said softly.

  The Sentry turned around. His cheeks were gaunt and his usually perfectly-styled hair disheveled. “Tegan. You startled me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s three in the morning, night owl. Why are you awake?”

  The side of Tegan’s mouth cocked up. “What, are you my warden now?”

  “Never been, never will be.”

  “I know.” She leaned against the fridge beside her. “I just kind of woke up. Thought I heard someone talking back here.”

  Marshall spun his phone around with one finger. Hollowly, he said, “A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I just got off the phone with Gareth. He found Dr. Deol. She was in a really bad place, teetering between darkness and light. Gareth showed up at the right time. And when she spoke to him, it was all the nudge she needed to join us.”

  “That’s awesome . . . but you don’t look happy.”

  “We were so close, Tegan. So close.”

  Tegan�
��s limbs went heavy. Oh, no.

  The Sentry dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. “They murdered her. They murdered her and took away everything we needed. And I mean everything. Formula for the cure, future plans, Marauder kill switch. Everything.”

  Tegan slowly slid to the ground. She couldn’t decide what she felt worse about, the slain woman or the lost goldmine of information, and felt guilty. Whichever way you look at this, it really sucks, she thought.

  “How’s Gareth?” she asked.

  “Not good. He’s blaming himself. Big time.”

  “How can he? It’s not his fault.”

  “They had a plan in place to get everything on a computer hard drive. Well, she did. Her office was ablaze by the time he got there. He found her in the server room but she was already dead via some kind of lethal injection. Gareth thinks that if he’d listened to his gut and moved in sooner, she’d still be alive. And a six-year-old girl would not be an orphan.”

  “That’s awful,” Tegan whispered. “Something like that can really mess with your mind.”

  “It does. I’ve seen it in the military, I’ve seen it with other Sentries.” Marshall lowered his head. “He buried her on the outskirts of Moscow.”

  Tegan screwed her eyes shut.

  The Sentry pulled her up and they left the kitchen, taking a seat across from each other at the dining table.

  “What now?” Tegan asked. “What do we tell the others?”

  Marshall looked past her at the teenagers asleep on the couch and newly-bought air mattresses. He didn’t offer an answer. Tegan grabbed Aari’s laptop from the other side of the table and opened it to scroll through Moscow’s local news.

  There it is, she thought. Fire at an office. Bio lab completely burnt to ashes. Man, this bites.

  Tegan and Marshall remained at the table in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, even as the sun rose a couple of hours later. Mariah, the first one up, acknowledged them groggily, her hair in a messy bun. Jag limped out of his room, looking peeved about his cast-wrapped leg. Aari joined them half an hour later. Kody remained burrowed in his blanket from head to toe, snoring softly.

  “It feels more doom and gloom than usual this morning,” Jag noted warily. “I sense bad news.”

  Marshall didn’t lift his gaze from the tabletop. “I’d rather talk about it once everyone’s awake.”

  Mariah went over to Kody and prodded him with her foot. “Get up, you sloth. It’s nine. Rise and shine.”

  “I hate mornings,” Kody moaned, untangling himself from his blanket.

  “You don’t hate mornings,” Tegan said. “You just don’t like waking up.”

  “Like you’re any different.” Kody joined them, taking the last vacant seat beside Marshall. He saw the Sentry’s dark look. “Oh boy. What worse thing has happened today?”

  As Marshall recounted the events of the night, pensive dreariness met his words.

  “Are the Elders aware of what happened?” Aari asked.

  “Yes,” the Sentry said.

  “And?”

  “As wise and knowledgeable as they are, they’re not all-knowing. We’ve hit a brick wall.”

  Their host, Daniel, walked out of his room, yawning, and saw the faces of his guests. “Whoa,” he said. “Who died?”

  “Someone who could have stopped the spread of the disease,” Jag said flatly.

  Daniel halted, then gawkily retreated back to his room. Kody left the table, muttering something about checking outside for their unseen pursuers. Jag and Tegan flopped onto a couch despondently and turned on the television. They increased the volume just as the anchor warned viewers of the graphic imagery that was about to be broadcasted.

  Mariah, Aari and Marshall joined them as a shaky video from a Moscow train station unfolded. Screams and gunfire blasted through the speakers as armed personnel in military hazmat suits gunned down infected men and women. Some of the footage had been blurred but a few of the friends still turned away. Aari stumbled toward the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

  “Gareth said he was there,” Marshall said hoarsely. “He witnessed that.”

  Tegan looked away. As much as she tried to forget, the dead Dema-Ki villagers from the Battle of Ayen’et still lurked in the recesses of her mind; their bodies strewn lifelessly in the dirt, the rest of the villagers having to carry their fallen brethren home and bury them. The massacre at the train station brought the raw images back to the surface.

  Her eyes welled up but she quickly blinked back the tears as the images on screen switched to drone shots of civilians being taken into quarantine zones around the world, some even at gunpoint. One zone in Indonesia had gotten out of control, and as in Moscow, the infected were all gunned down.

  A voiceover recited portions of press release statements and statistics throughout the photo and video reel. “. . . Dozens of countries have officially declared a state of emergency with many grounding all flights to and from their nations. Urban centers and transportation hubs are most affected and many quarantine zones, as you can see on your screens, have been set up around the globe in an effort to contain the disease. Governments have also begun closing their borders as the death toll continues to rise. According to the World Health Organization, at least four-hundred thousand mortalities have been reported. There is no indication that this disease seems to be slowing down as the world frantically searches for a cure. We have to hope that a breakthrough will come soon. Back to you, Lara.”

  The camera cut back to the anchor but each time she opened her mouth to speak, only shaky breaths came out. “I, um . . .” She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids.

  Mariah sank onto the couch beside Jag, who put his arm around her. “It’s happening,” she whispered. “It’s really happening. The world is spiraling out of control, just like Reyor wanted. And we’re supposedly the ‘Bearers of Light’, the Chosen Ones. Look at us.”

  The anchor managed to compose herself. “I apologize. Thank you, Thomas. Continuing on now, a recent report about the ongoing conflict between the Indo-Sino forces and Russia bears no suggestion that the war will end anytime soon.”

  “You’d think,” Tegan said, “that an outbreak like this would slow down this stupid war.”

  Marshall shook his head. “They’re just soldiers following orders, doing what they think is necessary for the survival of their country. Besides, most of these skirmishes are taking place in farmlands away from populated areas. They probably haven’t seen the effects of the outbreak up close.”

  “Which means small villages and rural areas could still be safe?”

  “Potentially, yes. And they might put up fences and security along their borders to keep away people fleeing the big cities.”

  On the screen, the anchor attempted to perk up. “In other news, a new phone app has started to make waves in Korea, Japan, Singapore and Hong Kong, and is steadily being downloaded by countless users around the world. The app, Soteria, allows people to remain safely at home while government-sanctioned delivery mechanisms for food and other essentials are coordinated to minimize public exposure to the virus. This is a very helpful addition to the Israeli-provided test kits that help detect the virus in your system.”

  Jag breathed in relief. “That’s good. It’s like Uber Eats on a global scale. If we can minimize people’s movement, it’ll help slow the spread of the disease and buy us more time to find the cure.”

  “Maybe,” Marshall said. “But there are always more than a few morons who’ll jack this up.”

  Tegan glanced at the front door, then passed the remote to Jag and headed outside. She found Aari and Kody sitting together on the steps in the cool morning and plunked herself beside them. “Found anything, Kody?” she asked.

  Kody’s head moved as if on a swivel. “Maybe, but I’m not gonna jump to a conclusion just yet. Also, if you’re wondering why Aari looks like he might puke, I’d recommend listening to what he has to say.”

  Aari did indeed l
ook nauseous. Tegan squeezed his shoulders. “Hey, Brainiac. Talk to me.”

  Aari pinched his eyebrows between his fingers. “Ugh. I wanted to ask Marshall that night on Masada, but then he nearly got killed and ever since then we’ve been busy, so I just put it on the backburner.”

  “Put what on the backburner?”

  “On Masada, I picked up this old broken stone that I think might have been an arrowhead. When I did, I looked around and saw . . .” He clenched his teeth, pressing his palms to his face. “. . . I saw hundreds of people, all dead. I could smell the blood soaking the air, feel the wind in my face. It’s like I was there, Teegs. It’s like I was there right after the mass suicide happened. It’s just been festering in the back of my mind ever since, but when they showed the Moscow massacre on TV, it all came rushing back.”

  Tegan turned his head toward her and searched his face. “You’re shaking, Aari.”

  “I told you. It’s like I was there. No, I was there. I don’t know how.”

  “You saw into the past, then?”

  “You believe me?”

  “I would be stupid not to after all we’ve seen and experienced.” She hoisted him up. “Come on. Let’s talk to Marshall. You joining us, Kody?”

  “One sec,” he said. “Gotta get my vision back to normal.” He blinked a few times, then followed Tegan and Aari inside.

  “Marshall!” Tegan called.

  The Sentry looked up from the couch, startled. “Yeah?”

  “Aari thinks he saw into the past when we were in Masada. Possible, yea or nay?”

  “You what?” Marshall jumped up, grabbing Aari’s arm as everyone crowded around them. “Are you serious?”

  Aari seemed to wilt. “Is it bad? What’s going on?”

  “No! No, it’s not bad. I’ve just never heard of anyone being able to do that.”

  “So either this is really cool,” Kody said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “or the dude’s a freak.”

  Tegan pushed him away. “Oh, go brush your teeth. Marshall, Aari said it happened when he picked up a really old arrowhead. My guess is that maybe this ability activates by touch.”