Revelation (Shadowmark Book 4)

by Alex Bratton

  True to his word, Doyle kept Mina close while he casually talked to the others. If anyone thought it strange that Mina followed Doyle around, they didn’t mention it.

  Once, a red-haired man watched her as Doyle conversed with the same burly man who had shouted at Jones yesterday. But he had done nothing except eye her, and Mina felt foolish mentioning to Doyle that someone was looking at her, so she said nothing.

  Rumor had it the Glyphs had been less successful at stopping resistances from forming in the mountain forests, and this group planned to join a larger one rumored to be in West Virginia. How or when the report came to them, no one could say. In fact, the upcoming vote mainly hinged on this idea. Tensions between front-runners and their followers had caused fights all over the valley. A large faction of several hundred people, led by a man named Thompson, didn't want to go to West Virginia and planned instead to hide and stay out of trouble. Thompson had quite a following of both military and civilians alike. By contrast, the other candidate, Halston, wanted to push on to West Virginia. Where they would go from there, no one knew, but bigger numbers meant a greater chance of success in a fight against the Glyphs.

  “…or a greater chance of starvation,” Doyle said as they sat on the ground by the fire that night. The dusting of late spring snow had melted, but the air was still cold.

  “What can they do, really?” Mina asked.

  “Probably nothing except slow the Glyphs down a little. If they had plenty of ammo and could fight the Glyphs on the ground outside the protection of their ships, they might do some damage. Not enough to win, but they would be a little more evenly matched.” Doyle shook his head. “But it’s all theoretical. We are completely outmatched in terms of technology. They’ll defeat us every time.”

  “So, why are we still here? Let’s warn them and leave.”

  Doyle shrugged. “Just because we’re outmatched doesn’t mean we should give up. I thought you would understand that.”

  Mina sighed. “I do.”

  As Mina had become stronger and more self-sufficient, her anger toward the Glyphs had returned. Somewhere along the trail, she had allowed her relative comfort to lull her into a false sense of security. Seeing the camp reminded her of the devastation beyond the mountains. Perhaps that had been Doyle’s purpose in bringing her here.

  The thought of the Glyphs attacking the camp terrified her, though. Her unease had grown throughout the day until she was weary by nightfall. As Mina contemplated crawling into the one-person tent, Doyle straightened in his seat and moved his hand closer to the knife on his belt. Mina looked around. The red-haired man who had watched Mina earlier was climbing the slope to their campsite. Unperturbed by Doyle’s unwelcoming demeanor, the man crouched with his hands outstretched toward the fire as if they had invited him over for dinner.

  “Name’s Williams,” he said without preamble.

  Doyle nodded. Taking her cue from him, Mina didn’t say anything.

  Williams pressed on. “I saw you walk into the camp yesterday. Jones seemed to think you were some kind of military. Came to offer you a welcome drink.” He pulled out a flask and offered it to Mina, who declined with a wave of her hand. Williams smirked and passed it to Doyle.

  Doyle put his nose up to it for a whiff then swirled the flask without drinking as he looked at Williams. “What can we help you with?” His accent did not change this time.

  “Seen you walking around today asking questions, and I came up here to make sure you got all your facts straight.”

  “Which facts?” Doyle asked.

  “Y’all will have heard about the vote. I just came to warn you there’s some here who are screwing around with the facts. Got everybody in a sweat over what’s going to happen after.”

  “I thought the vote was to decide what happens next.”

  “Wouldn’t count on it.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I got friends.” Williams scrutinized Doyle.

  “Someone is planning a coup?”

  “Well, now, I wouldn’t take it that far. Let’s just say my buddy Thompson has ways of persuading people to do what he wants. I reckon you want to make sure you’re on the right side and all, being new like you are.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  Williams shrugged. “Just being friendly. Come ‘round tomorrow and meet Thompson. He’s decent folk. Trying to keep people from committing suicide against the Glyphs and everything. That’s what this madness about fighting them is—suicide.” Williams smoothed his hair with his hand and caught Mina’s eye. “You could come, too. I could help you get settled in.” He looked back at Doyle. “Pretty woman like that will mean a lot around here.”

  Mina’s face warmed with anger. “I’m not… Doyle doesn’t speak for—”

  Doyle glared at her when she said his name. Sensing she’d blurted too much, Mina bit her tongue and fumed in silence.

  Doyle stood up to toss the flask back to Williams. “She’s here with me.” Doyle’s voice carried an edge, but his face looked perfectly smooth.

  Williams stood as well. “Sounds like she don’t know that. I expect you’ll think about it and get back to me. I have other commodities to trade if you don’t like whiskey.”

  “She’s not for trade for anything, and I better not catch you staring at her again as you did earlier today.”

  Williams’ face turned red in the firelight. “Could be you won’t have a choice with that pretty face and all. Lots of guys around here think so, but we’ll see. We’ll see.” He turned and stomped off as fresh snow flurries drifted down.

  Mina’s heart beat erratically in her chest, and she turned to Doyle. “What did he mean by that?”

  “He’s bluffing,” Doyle said smoothly. “Just wanted to see if he could bully us. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t—of course I’m going to worry about it!”

  “Mina, something like this was bound to happen. Keep your head, and don’t do anything to make them doubt what I just said, okay?”

  “I really don’t like this.”

  Mina’s skin crawled at the way Williams had looked at her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so guilty about not warning the camp about the Glyphs.

  A second later, she burned with shame. They all wanted to survive, too.

  Doyle walked over to sit beside her. For one ridiculous moment, Mina thought he might put his arm around her shoulders, but he merely sat in silence, staring into the fire. She smiled a little, appreciating his small attempt at comfort, but her worries persisted. The Glyphs could be above the clouds right now, waiting to strike while these men milled around below, oblivious to the danger while they played at politics and bargained for women. Despite Doyle’s assurances, the old feeling of despair loomed over Mina’s head, looking for a sign of weakness.

  “Interesting, huh?” Doyle asked. He so rarely initiated a conversation that his words startled Mina out of her thoughts.

  “Yes. Why did Williams tell us all that?” she asked. “He doesn’t know anything about us.”

  “Means Thompson still needs supporters. He wants to manipulate us into thinking it’s pointless to vote for the other guy because it won’t matter anyway. And, of course, he wanted an excuse to ask about you. Politics at its finest.” Doyle peeled the bark off a small twig.

  Mina’s face turned red again. “As if we care which way the vote goes. It doesn’t concern us.”

  Doyle’s answer was a noncommittal sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

  Mina raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you want to vote.”

  “I’m interested in seeing how things play out. That’s all. I think I’ll go check out this Thompson guy tomorrow.”

  “What for?”

  Doyle shrugged and threw the twig into the fire, watching it incinerate.

  “What if Williams is hanging around?”

  “So what? He’s a pawn. Someone to do Thompson’s dirty work.”

  “He’s a pig. Do you thin
k he meant what he said about those other guys?”

  Doyle took his eyes off the fire to look at her. “Probably, but there’s not much we can do about it right now.”

  “Except leave.”

  “Not yet,” he said, staring at the fire again.

  They sat in silence for the rest of the evening. Mina had resolved to sit up and keep an eye out, but more than once, she drifted off to sleep in the warm glow of the fire. The last time, she jerked upright to stop herself from falling over.

  The corner of Doyle’s mouth twitched. “Get some sleep,” he said. “There’s no need for both of us to be awake.”

  “Are you sure? What if he’s still nearby?”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  Feeling awkward, Mina crawled into the tent behind her but left the flap open. Despite having dozed minutes before, she couldn’t make her eyes close. Doyle sat with his back to her, still staring at the fire. Mina struggled with herself for a moment, remembering her inner promise about asking personal questions, but her curiosity won out.

  “Doyle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How do you change your accent so easily?”

  Doyle replied over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the fire. “I moved around a lot as a kid. It helped me blend in to new places.”

  Picking up a new accent took time, and to retain old accents and recall them perfectly from memory was no small feat.

  “Which one is real, then?” Mina asked.

  “Whichever one we need.”

  “Hmph. And you were in the Army? Is that your secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You never asked.”

  “As if you would have told me.”

  Doyle glanced over at her and absently rubbed his chest. He shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

  “We’re in the middle of a freaking alien invasion. How can it not be relevant? Weren’t you fighting off the Glyphs? What happened? You must have seen things firsthand.” When Doyle didn’t say anything more, she prompted, “Anything else I need to know?”

  “About me? What do you think you need to know?”

  Mina sat up, bumping her head on the top of the tent. “Anything! Where are you from? What did you do before all this? What about your family?”

  “And you need to know this because…”

  Mina rolled her eyes. “Humor me. Please.”

  Doyle didn’t answer her right away. “I don’t have a family. I don’t claim any one place as home. I’ve traveled most of my life.”

  It was the most unsatisfying answer she could imagine, worse than if he hadn’t said anything at all.

  “What about the Glyphs? You told me you saw them up close. What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. I got away and fled to the mountains, same as you.”

  “All right, don’t tell me, then. Goodnight, Doyle.” Frustrated, Mina yanked the zipper closed and pulled her blanket up to her chin.

  “Goodnight,” he said to the fire so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

  Chapter Six

  Janie woke to the sound of a baby crying. She lay near a tree, her body twisted with one arm underneath and her jaw digging into the wet earth, but she couldn’t remember why. Night had turned into a dim, misty day, and a strong smell of acrid smoke moved through the air.

  She was alone.

  Pushing wearily to her feet, Janie put her hand to her hairline, and it came away with blood. Pain shot through her head, through her jaw, and spread to the rest of her body.

  Flashes of more blood and a golden monster. A man jerking away her daughter. Emily? No, a different daughter. A different name. It escaped Janie at the moment. Was the man going to hurt the baby? She thought he might, but her head hurt too much, and she couldn’t remember.

  Janie stumbled through the trees without any clear sense of direction or place. When she found a road, she took it and followed it south. Was it south? Her head pounded now, making her brain fuzzy, slowing her thinking. The fog turned to frustration and more anger. Why was she so angry? Whatever she had forgotten had made her sad and angry at the same time. She was like a child, unable to deal with the emotions running through her mind.

  A child. Her problem had something to do with a child. Her child.

  A mile down the road, Janie found a brown, fluffy teddy bear laying in the wet grass near the shoulder. She picked it up and brushed it off. One eye was missing. It looked lonely, like Emily. It reminded her of Emily. She’d lost Emily—

  Or was that her name? Yes, that was right. Her name was Emily. The baby’s name had been Eve. Eve was her daughter.

  She had to find Eve.

  She clutched the teddy bear to her breast and began walking. Her bare feet left a bloody trail on the pavement, but she didn’t notice.

  Eve was the only one who mattered.

  Chapter Seven

  THE NEXT MORNING, MINA AND Doyle woke early and slid down the mountain in a cold rain that seeped into Mina’s bones. At the bottom, they found a crude election setup. Two groups stood by to watch the process. At the center of each stood one candidate. Voters walked by and threw a branch in front of the candidate they wanted to win. One stick equaled one vote.

  Mina and Doyle stood off to the side. She anxiously examined each voter, looking for Lincoln. A few men voted in groups, eyes darting around, afraid of retaliation for their vote. Some had black eyes and bloody noses. Thompson’s group stood quietly, the only real noise coming from Halston’s group, which had gathered farther down from Thompson. Doyle kept his eye on Halston.

  “They seem confident,” Mina said. She ran her tongue over her teeth. In their haste to leave the cabin, she had not thought to grab her toothbrush.

  “Yes.”

  Doyle occasionally stopped someone to ask him what he knew. A couple of Marines told them they had been ordered into the cities at the first sign of the invaders, but their ranks were quickly defeated with heavy firepower. These two eventually reached the mountains, intending to join the fight again if they could find it. If the new commander did not go to West Virginia, they would set out on their own again. Doyle gleaned little else from other voters. Most were stragglers enticed by the protection a large group afforded.

  An hour passed, and Halston’s crew seemed less enthusiastic. The two piles of branches grew at the same rate. For every vote Halston received, someone else came over to vote for Thompson. Men clapped Thompson on the back. Williams brought him something to eat. While Thompson talked and laughed with Williams, Mina noticed them look over at her and Doyle. An inexplicable desire to leave nagged her, but she followed Doyle’s example and pretended not to notice the two men.

  “They’re coming over here,” she said a minute later.

  “Don’t stand like that,” Doyle said before Thompson and Williams reached them. “Square your shoulders. Otherwise, you’re more of a target.”

  “Should I give them the evil eye while I’m at it?”

  Doyle bit back his retort as the two men approached. Thompson strode forward first as if to introduce himself with a handshake but stopped short a few feet away. A thin man with thick eyebrows, Thompson matched Doyle in height, with a smaller build. He scratched the stubble on his chin and frowned, his eyebrows furrowing into one. Doyle’s face was impassive, but the mood between the two men immediately grew tense.

  “Heard you’ve been asking around,” Thompson said.

  “Just checking things out,” Doyle replied. He never took his eyes off Thompson, who stood up straighter.

  Williams, who’d been smiling at Mina when he walked over, stood next to his candidate with a frown. Mina tried to look like she knew what was happening.

  “Weren’t planning to vote, were you?” Thompson asked. “Having just arrived?”

  “I don’t feel the need to vote, no. Thompson, is it?”

  “That’s right,” Thompson said coolly. “And you would be Doyle?” He looked a
t Williams for affirmation.

  Williams nodded curtly.

  “Yes,” Doyle answered.

  Thompson seemed to overcome whatever was bothering him because he laughed as he said, “You’re welcome to join our little party after we win today. We’re planning a celebration. Bring your friend.” He winked at Mina. “Could be fun.”

  Doyle ignored this. “And if you don’t win?”

  “I’m confident folks here see things from our perspective.”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” Doyle asked offhandedly as if he had tired of the conversation.

  “Yes, I suppose we will.” Thompson motioned to Williams, and the pair walked back over to the growing piles of branches.

  “That was odd,” Mina said. She shook her head and muttered, “Men.”

  At midday, rain still misted down, and Doyle and Mina moved to a more sheltered location. Mina sat on a large boulder under dense trees, longing for a warm campfire. With numb fingers, she struggled to pull her jacket sleeves down over her hands.

  Were they racing against time by waiting for this vote? Despite Mina’s unease, Doyle remained adamant.

  “If we try to warn the camp before the election finishes, we could start a riot.”

  “I don’t see why they’re so hung up on this vote, anyway.”

  Doyle shrugged. “In the absence of government, survivors are looking for security. And most people don’t want to make their own life and death decisions. They want others to do that.”

  “That’s an extremely cynical worldview.”

  “Is that a rebuke?”

  “An observation.”

  Mina felt Doyle was stalling, but why? Did he want to stay? If he decided to, Mina needed to consider her options.

  Her idea of helping against the invaders did not include joining an army, but then, what else had she expected? Peace talks? The aliens didn’t seem too interested in peace.

  “I don’t think these guys will vote to go to West Virginia,” Doyle remarked after a while. “They’re more preoccupied with surviving than fighting.”