by Chris Fox
“If you’re successful,” the Old Man shot back, apparently unfazed by Jordan’s new form. The fury was still there, but the Old Man had reigned it in. A smart move, as it made him appear more reasonable in front of his underlings. “I will not trust the weight of the world on your shoulders, Commander. Not a second time. Not after the monumental disaster in Peru. That was our chance to hold onto South America. Do you know where that is, Jordan? In the middle of the green belt least affected by this disaster. The place where power grids weren’t utterly destroyed. The place where we could have re-established civilization.
“You cost us that. If I trust you a second time it will jeopardize the little we’ve been able to save,” the Old Man continued, tone scathing. Jordan remained unbowed. The Mother represented a powerful ally, one with a knowledge of their enemies gathered over millennia. Waking her had been the right thing to do, though admitting that here would mean a swift trip to the lab. He wasn’t sure how he’d avoided it thus far.
The Old Man weighed him for a long moment before continuing. “Commander, your new friends view us as an evil corporation. One hell bent on world domination. You know better. You know the truth. Am I a tyrant? You’re damned right. But my duty is to safeguard as many human lives as I can. I built this company to prepare for this day. We have to find survivors and get back on their feet. We have to save what can be saved.
“Even if Irakesh becomes a major threat, it will take him months or possibly years to solidify his hold on the west coast,” the Old Man argued, his gaze now taking in the whole room. All eyes were once again focused on him. “By that time we will have restored order to the east. We’ll save everything that can be saved and we’ll get humanity back on its feet. If I let you risk a strike and you fail he may come for us much sooner.”
“He already knows about us,” Jordan growled, taking strength from his lupine form. That got their attention. All eyes settled back on him. “He stole one of our planes, the plane with a nuclear asset you meant for Peru. Deathless can ingest memories when they consume brain matter. There was only one way he could have known about Panama. He killed and ate one of our officers. He’s coming for us. The only question is do we do something about it while we’ve got the upper hand, or let him become a threat we can’t stop?”
“We used one of our skyhammers to knock his bird out of the sky. He got up and walked away from that with the asset intact. It’s still broadcasting,” the Old Man replied, unmoved. The rest of the room was shaken, whispers rippling through their ranks.
“That’s why we have to stop him,” The Director’s clear voice rang through the room, silencing everyone as he rose to his feet. He allowed the silence to stretch before speaking again, ever the master showman. “Leif, I’ve served you loyally for fifteen years. During that time I’ve backed every play, done everything to advance your agenda. I’ve done that because you’ve always been twelve steps ahead of me. Because you’re the finest strategist I’ve ever seen. But you know what? Even you make mistakes once in a while and it’s my job to call you on them. You’re wrong. If we take a swipe at the bastard and miss, at least we’ll have tried. If you don’t want to risk Object 2, don’t send it. But give the Commander a team and send him on his way.”
“I’m sorry, Mark,” Mohn said, though his eyes said the words were a lie. They smoldered. He was clearly incensed at having been contradicted in front of so many, but was careful not to let his composure slip. “Ingesting brain matter? Even if it’s true, all this monstrosity knows is that Mohn existed and has installations all over the globe. He has no intel on which ones survived, because whoever he ‘ate’ in Peru didn’t know. I can’t risk that changing, not without a guarantee of success. You can’t give me that and you know it. This Irakesh is an unknown quantity. We don’t know what he can do and we do not want to be his top priority. Permission denied.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Old Man’s gaze. This wasn’t over. He would exact retribution on both Jordan and The Director. The question wasn’t if. It was when and how.
Chapter 55- A Plan
Blair picked his way up the last few feet of the trail, wiping sweat from his brow as he leaned against the damp bark of a coastal redwood. Being a werewolf gave him a lot more strength and endurance, but the duffel had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and he’d carried it all the way up Mount Tam, down into Muir woods, and back up into Mill Valley. It was exhausting.
Highway 101 stretched below him, running north to south under the steel grey sky. It was flanked by hills to the west and a view of the Richmond Bridge to the east. He’d driven it often coming home from the city. For just a moment he pretended the cars clogging it indicated normal rush hour traffic, but only for a moment. Every last one was eerily still.
“Can you feel him?” Steve asked, pausing on the bike trail next to Blair. He carried a smaller duffel and didn’t seem the worse for wear, despite their trek from the coast. His eyes were sharp, calculating. As always.
Blair turned to glance up the trail, about fifty feet down the hillside where it met a bike path paralleling 101. Bridget sat on a large rock, both duffels tossed absently beside her. She’d been avoiding Steve even more than she had on the flight, despite the fact that she’d found the courage to tell Blair he was plotting something. If only they didn’t need Steve for what was about to come.
“Yeah,” Blair replied, staring up at the low wall of clouds dominating the bay just beyond the freeway. “He’s east of us, probably somewhere in Oakland. Coming closer from the feel of it. The Ark has got to be close, though honestly I haven’t the faintest idea where. Could be under water, for all we know. The coastline was three hundred feet lower thirteen thousand years ago.”
“Blair, listen,” Steve said, setting his duffel on the ground next to him. He shuffled back and forth, wrestling with whatever he was about to say. Blair stared hard at him. This wasn’t at all like Steve. He didn’t dither. He said what he meant. Steve looked up at him, eyes searching. “I have to ask you a hard question. I don’t want you to think of it as an attack, okay?”
“Whatever you’re going to say, just say it,” Blair snapped, eyes narrowing. Bridget’s warning lurked in the back of his mind.
“You’ve fought Irakesh twice now. Both times he’s handed you your ass. You’ve also said our only chance against him is the access key, because that puts you on even footing with him, right?” Steve asked. The words thrummed in Blair’s ears somehow. It was the oddest feeling, like standing too close to the speakers at a concert where you felt the sound more than heard it.
Somewhere in the back of his mind the beast gave a low growl, then a whine.
“Yeah, I haven’t fared so well, thus far. I’m still learning,” he shot back. It came out more defensive than he’d intended.
“So why not let me do it? I’ve got more experience with shaping. I was able to draw on the Mother’s memories. I have the best chance of beating him,” Steve said, resting a hand against a neighboring redwood. Blair felt light-headed, more than the hike should have justified. It was difficult to think. “Besides, he won’t be expecting it.”
“Steve, I’m genuinely glad we found you and that you decided to help us against Irakesh,” he said, resting his weight against the same tree. God but he needed some sleep. “I’m not giving you the key, though. To be blunt, I don’t trust you. Even if I did, the Mother entrusted me with it. This is my responsibility.”
Brief irritation flashed across Steve’s features, then his face was all compassion again. The expression looked so out of place.
“Blair,” Bridget called from down the trail. He glanced down at her. She was pointing towards the bay. He couldn’t make out what she was indicating.
“Let’s find out what she wants,” Blair said, shouldering his duffel and starting down the trail. He still felt light-headed, but the feeling was receding. What was wrong with him?
He reached Bridget quickly. She looked more excited than she had in days.
“I can smell Cyntia. I’d recognize that scent anywhere,” Bridget said, pointing at the bay. Her finger indicated a spur of land just beyond the wide arc of the Richmond bridge. Somewhere on the edge of Berkeley, from the look of it. “They’re coming closer. I’m betting they’re going to cross the bridge.”
“That would put them on the other side of Larkspur, somewhere right around San Quentin,” Blair replied, nodding towards the prison perched on the far edge of the bay. He’d passed by it many times when taking the ferry into the city. “Fastest way for us to get there is to hike down 101 to Larkspur, then head east up the 580.”
“I don’t like it,” Steve said, shaking his head slowly. He frowned at Bridget just as she was about to speak and she subsided. Blair wondered what she’d been about to say. “Not during the day, at least. They’ve got all the advantages. We should wait for nightfall.”
“I agree,” Blair said, nodding towards the dock in the distance. Several massive ferries were tied there, but also an array of smaller boats. Beyond it lay a small shopping center next to a stop light. “They’ll have to come up Sir Francis Drake Boulevard if they come this way and we’ve got a perfect vantage. I say we find a good hiding spot and wait.”
“What if they stop before they get here?” Bridget asked.
“I can feel him getting closer. If that feeling stops it means he has, too. When that happens, we go to them,” Blair said, clenching his fist as he gazed at the Richmond bridge.
“Won’t he feel you coming too?” Steve asked, eyeing Blair sidelong.
“Yes, but I’ve got a plan about that.”
Chapter 56- 24 Hour Fitness
Trevor had been to the bay area a few times, but he’d never been to Larkspur before. The place reeked of money. The machines lining the gym could have arrived from the factory the day before. The TVs in front of the ellipticals were massive. There was even an olympic-sized pool. He stared out through glass at the luxury cars in the parking lot. There wasn’t a used truck or a beat up Toyota anywhere.
“Why’d you pick this place, Trevor?” Tom rumbled. The tall redneck leaned against a squat rack next to a mirrored wall. He was a bit more dusty than when they’d first met. Dark circles marred his eyes. Yet he was still alert, his right hand inches from the .45 holstered at his side. This man was a killer, whatever he looked like. “I don’t get it. This place is opener than a squaw’s asshole.”
“That’s why I chose it,” Trevor answered, gesturing at the wall of glass covering the entirety of the south wall. “See those boats and that big blue and white structure? That’s the ferry building. We’ve also got the 580 and the 101, so we can run in any direction if we have to. That might save our lives.”
“Okay, I git that,” Tom admitted, stroking a grey mustache that drooped over his mouth. “But why this place? There’s a Starbucks around the corner. We could've had coffee and been a hell of a lot safer. This place has got two full walls of glass. Someone with a weapon comes up and it’s gone, we’re pissing right into that cock-shrinking breeze. We’re gonna get wet.”
“You have no idea what we’re dealing with,” Trevor said, turning the full weight of his gaze on Tom. He gestured through the glass on the western side. “Somewhere out there is a group of killers every bit as nasty as us. You see how Irakesh is pacing over by those dumbbells? He knows what’s coming, and when it gets here, we’re going to want that commanding view. Brick walls wouldn’t even slow down what’s coming.”
Trevor patted his rifle, a brand new .308 he’d pilfered from some redneck who hadn’t quite escaped the zombies chasing him. That could have been him. Hell, it was him, even if he was also a scientist. Fitting that he should take the guy’s rifle. It wasn’t as high caliber as he’d like, but not even a werewolf would enjoy being shot in the head.
“I’m gonna get fucked like a one-legged girl at prom,” Tom said, giving a snort that might have been a laugh. He withdrew the ragged end of a cigar from his flannel jacket, rolling it around between his fingers.
“You know Cyntia hates that smell,” Trevor cautioned, glancing to the corner of the room where the massive female was lounging. She’d accumulated a pile of perhaps two dozen spandex-clad corpses. She was slick with gore, about half way through the stack. A ragged popping made him wince as she tore loose an arm, and it made Trevor wince. “I’d strongly suggest you not light that.”
“Bitch doesn’t scare me,” Tom protested under his breath, hastily stowing it back in his pocket.
Cyntia’s ears twitched. Then her muzzle swung in Tom’s direction. “Bitch, is it?”
She gave a low growl as she barreled through the room, knocking an exercise bike out of the way with a casual swat as she came down on top of Tom. Trevor winced, expecting her to terrify the man. Instead she lunged, tearing out his throat and wolfing down a large mouthful of bloody flesh.
Trevor took a slow step backwards, then another. Putting distance between them seemed wise, no matter what her feelings for him might be.
Movement from outside the windows drew his gaze, along the path paralleling the 101 maybe a mile distant. It was only for a moment, but there’d been silver fur. He only knew one werewolf with silver fur. His face became a stone, as devoid of emotion as he could make it.
You must convey this to the master. His Risen whispered, deep and low and powerful. It had been absent since he’d fallen from the plane.
You’ve been silent for days. Why are you suddenly talking to me again? Besides, in the past you’ve encouraged me to screw him over. Why are you suddenly on his side?
He must be told. You are all in danger. The voice continued, as if it couldn’t hear his thoughts. Or didn’t care. The Ka-Dun will kill you. In this your purpose should be united with the deathless you serve.
An incredible pressure built in the back of his skull, heavier than any migraine he’d ever dealt with. Spots danced in his vision and he sagged against the rack, catching himself against the cold metal. An urge to reveal Blair’s presence spread like fire on a hillside, raging through him. It demanded obedience, demanded he confess.
“Trevor?” Irakesh called. He ceased his pacing, apparently oblivious to the fact that Cyntia had slaughtered a servant mere feet from him. His gaze was even more calculating than usual. “Are you all right? You seem to be in pain.”
Tell him. The pressure intensified, curling his toes inside his boots. Cramps shot through his limbs.
“I probably just need to eat,” he said, through gritted teeth. He forced himself to relax, forced back the pain. “Seems like I’m always hungry, no matter how much I consume.”
“Feed then, and quickly. I feel the Ka-Dun in those hills,” Irakesh said, nodding towards Corte Madera, the equally rich town directly south of Larkspur. “He was approaching, but has stopped. He can feel me, as I him. He knows we are awaiting his arrival and no doubt suspects a trap. It won’t take long for him to send one of his females to scout this place. Then he will attack.”
A low growl rumbled from Cyntia and she bared her fangs at Irakesh’s approach. Irakesh merely raised a dark eyebrow. Trevor still couldn’t believe how large she’d become. She had to be twelve feet tall now, perhaps even larger. She looked like an adult sitting in a child’s treehouse. “I am loathe to interrupt your feast, but our enemies approach. There will be females of the purest blood for you to feast upon. Your strength will continue to grow, if you are able to slay them.”
A deep booming howl rolled from her, surging through the room and thrumming through Trevor’s chest. The windows began to vibrate. The howl continued, still lower. Glass exploded outward, showering the sidewalk like lethal caltrops. Maybe they’d annoy their attackers.
Cyntia rolled to her feet, rising into a crouch. Her back brushed the ceiling and she was nowhere near her full height. “I will feast on her while she still lives. I want to see the light in her eyes go out.”
Trevor’s eyes widened as he realized who she meant. Trevor loved Liz. Cyntia didn�
�t want him to love anyone or anything but her, so Liz had to die. Something smoldered in his gut, begging to be released.
Kill her. Feast on her corpse. Gain in strength and remove the threat.
This time the voice was making a suggestion. It was insidious, slithering through his mind. Yet it had none of the demanding pressure that had come when he’d tried to hide information from Irakesh.
“Ra’s breath, you crazy beast,” Irakesh roared, glaring up at Cyntia. “Anything within twenty miles heard your challenge. There is more than just the Ka-Dun and his pack in these lands.”
“Let them come,” Cyntia sneered, leaning closer to Irakesh. She licked a piece of gore from the fur around her mouth. “I will kill them all. I’ll kill you too, if you get in my way.”
Irakesh was shaking, his face splotchy. Trevor had never seen the deathless exhibit such a reaction before. “Be ready to carry the bomb, Cyntia. We may have to flee. You’re welcome to gamble with your own life, but will you risk Trevor’s? Can you protect him from a dozen champions? Or free-willed deathless?”
Cyntia’s ears lay flat against her head and she turned a worried glance at Trevor. It made him sick to his stomach. She loomed over the silver case in the back of the room, as if protecting it meant protecting him.
“Good, you can see reason. The Ka-Dun has not come any closer, but—” Something huge and silver flashed through the west window, vaulting over a nautilus machine and barreling into Cyntia’s even larger form with a meaty thunk. The two bodies rolled into the wall, shattering mirrors and knocking weights flying. Trevor was still reaching for his pistol when a set of claws slipped around his throat, shredding flesh and sending a gout of black blood down his chest. A foot was planted against his back and he went sailing into a curl machine, his left arm snapping with the brutality of the impact.
By the time he rolled to his feet, his black-furred assailant was gone. Where the hell had he gone? Trevor knew it was a male, knew it was one of the men who’d accompanied Blair back in Panama. But there was no sign of him.
