by Dan O'Brien
“Methias said they did not survive.”
“That is incorrect.” He allowed the energy free once again. The thick, pulsing waves of energy crested like waves, white tips of gnarled power radiating over Roth. “This was not the first one that he let go, Dr. Crowne. I did not need him to tell me this. He was a sentimental fool.”
She shook her head, her voice pleading. “No, they turned up dead in the city. They were on the waves all the time.”
Armon used his free hand to touch her face, his broad hand covering her cheek. He looked at her thoughtfully. “For five hundred years has this been done. For many centuries has Orion stood, and you want me to believe that every subject has fallen. That only this girl out of thousands, tens of thousands, in centuries survived?”
She swallowed hard.
“I don’t know. I swear to you I don’t know.”
Armon moved toward her, still holding the writhing Roth in his hands. He knelt next to her. “Do you smell that?”
She nodded sickly.
“His skin is boiling. His organs will soon liquefy. Would he have the answers I sought? Who killed our brothers and sisters?”
She nodded weakly.
If she spoke, it would have been a desperate sob. Armon tilted his head in acquiescence. Roth dropped to the ground in a motionless heap. Susan was immediately at his side, cradling his disfigured features. “I don’t believe that he knows what you are talking about either. What do you hope to gain?”
Armon moved closer to them.
“Insight into the truth, my dear.”
Roth floundered.
His eyes opened slightly, mouth opening enough to release a groan. Susan leaned close as he tried to speak. She nodded her head with his words, the tears in her eyes trickling down her face.
“Is he indeed innocent of this plot?” asked Armon with a smile.
Susan rose from beside Roth. Her face had blanched, her head shaking. “It can’t be true….” she whispered.
Armon nodded solemnly, his hands joined behind his back once more. “What did he say, Ms. Crowne?”
Susan had backed all the way to the wall. Her left hand covered her mouth, eyes screaming. Her words came out labored, as if she were out of breath. “Roth had them killed, as many as he could oversee. He wanted Orion for himself. He wanted them dead.”
Armon seemed pleased by her response.
“It appears we have found our monster.”
Susan flashed an angry look at him. “He says that he wishes he hadn’t betrayed his people. That he was sorry for his actions.”
“As are all men who are caught in their little deeds. I’m certain he is only sorry that his betrayal has been unearthed. And he now fears for what is left of his life.”
Susan fumbled with the panel at the door once again. Her breath was ragged as she desperately tried to escape. “I can’t be in here, I….” she cried in panic.
Armon crossed the room, lifting the body of Roth once more. He was like a rag doll in the assassin’s grip. “Would you like to see the price of betrayal, Ms. Crowne?”
She turned, pressing her back against the door and sliding down. Her voice was a whimper as she tried to reply. She shook her head: face in her hands, tears welling as she watched Roth lifted.
“The children of Babylon are a family older than time. We do not betray,” echoed Armon, his voice suddenly filling the room. The energy roared across his forearm and then over Roth. The crimson display of his power encased the fading doctor, the man’s last scream caught in his throat.
Susan watched fearfully. The sight was so repugnant that she felt as if she would faint and vomit simultaneously. This proved to be false as all she could do was look upon the scene in horror.
Roth had ceased to exist, disintegrating back into the folds of time. Armon seemed to materialize across the room, kneeling before Susan. “That was a sad sight. To destroy a brother of Babylon pains me greatly.”
She reached out, her slender hand a piston.
He caught her blow, but smiled all the same.
“You sicken me,” she snarled, her face wet with tears. Her makeup ran from her eyes like thick, purplish blood.
Armon smiled his sweetest smile. “I fear that you may yet be of use, my good doctor. Would you wish to be of use?”
She bit her lip.
She felt like she would wail if she opened her mouth.
He waited, his head tilted in anticipation.
“Well, Ms. Crowne?”
She nodded weakly.
Armon rose, satisfied by her answer. “That is good to hear. We have much work ahead of us. Marlowe evades us, but I believe very soon he will come to us. There is nowhere in Orion that he may hide that we cannot find him.”
Susan remained curled, her back against the wall. “What…” she started, but stumbled, her voice a sob. “What do you want me to do?”
He moved across the room, the massive view afforded the vista of a city alive. “Marlowe is disconnected. We need to reestablish that connection at all costs. His very existence threatens our balance.”
Susan stood back up.
She had broken a heel. Looking down, she removed both shoes. This made her substantially shorter, adding to the horror of the assassin who moved about like a gentlemen. “That may prove impossible.”
Armon tapped on the glass, feeling its construction. He disliked creations for he could not feel the life in things that were not alive. “Nothing is impossible, my dear. I believe you told the late Dr. Roth that the hardware was still intact and that the software simply needed to be revived. I believe you should get on that as soon as possible.”
Susan nodded nervously, holding her heels in her hands. “As you wish, sir.”
“Only Armon,” he corrected with a finger raised.
She swallowed.
Her throat was like sandpaper.
“Yes, Armon. Immediately.”
The indicator light of the door panel beeped. The light faded from red to green. “You may leave, my dear, but I will be in constant contact.”
She nodded and turned.
A face almost collided with hers. She fell back, her scream drawing the attention of Armon. A CDCC soldier looked at the fallen figure of the doctor as well as the shrouded form of Armon across the room.
“Where is Dr. Roth? I have an urgent message,” reported the armor-clad man. His face was hidden by the visor, body covered in blackened gear.
Armon moved out from behind the desk. His voice was suddenly very militant. “I am in charge now,” responded Armon.
The soldier hesitated.
“I am a member of the 1st Congress, you peon.”
The solider looked at Dr. Crowne, who nodded.
“He is in charge,” she reiterated.
Saluting curtly, the solider continued. “There is an unidentified gravibike approaching the Cerulean Dreams compound.”
“And?” Armon queried with an eyebrow raised.
The soldier fidgeted uncomfortably. “Long scans have confirmed that it is being piloted by the fugitive Alexander Marlowe. Dr. Roth and Dr. Crowne ordered that all longer-range scans constantly search for any sign of Marlowe, sir. I believe that he is coming to us.”
Armon smiled ferociously. “Very well.”
The soldier stiffened, his chin raised. “Orders, sir?”
The assassin looked at Susan.
“You knew that he would attempt an escape?”
Susan nodded slowly.
“We believed he would attempt to flee the city.”
“Interesting,” commented Armon as he paced across the room. “Where does he think he is going?”
“That we didn’t know,” replied Susan.
The soldier remained impassive. “Sir?”
Armon looked at him, eyeing him carefully. “Let the gravibike within thermal net range. Open a bay door for him and let us see where this goes.”
The man clicked his boots and spun, exiting the room without another wor
d. Dr. Crowne watched his departure and took a series of quick steps toward the door.
“Ms. Crowne?”
She stopped mid-step, her heart thundering.
“Yes, Armon?”
He did not turn from the window.
“I believe you should greet our guests.”
She swallowed hard. If she didn’t die by his hands, it seemed he was intent on her perishing by the hands of yet another lunatic. “Of course, Armon.”
He returned to his view from atop the world.
His prey had come to him.
XII
M
arlowe watched the gauges of the gravibike. He saw that they had opened an outer bay door. Reeling back on the propulsion, he suspended the pair of them atop the gravibike in the air. He lifted his hands from the controls and flexed them. His joints ached and his hands felt like vise grips from holding so tightly to the controls.
It had been too long since he had flown.
He turned to look at Dana and had to stifle a laugh.
“What happened to you?”
Her hair was deranged. Hair blown and plastered into a punk wave, her clear gray eyes watched him with impending anger. “You happened, you ape,” she retorted with a sniffle.
He nodded. “Guess I should have warned you.”
She cast him a mock dark glare. “Free air travel does not agree with me it seems.” She ran her hands through her hair a few times, smoothing it out as best she could. “I guess that will do,” she mumbled half-heartedly.
“They are opening a door for us,” he spoke, humor dissolved.
She looked panicked, her eyes wide, hair forgotten.
“They knew we were coming?”
Marlowe nodded, feeling for his weapons unconsciously. “I had hoped it would have been longer before we were noticed. They must have been looking for us with the deep scans, which we’d evaded by staying on the ground.”
She fidgeted on the bike, which disturbed its balance and made them teeter. Dana screamed and clutched Marlowe as the bike swerved in neutral. “Sorry,” she spoke, her face reddened, abashed.
Marlowe dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Question is: Do we plunge headlong or do we abandon this route and try something else?”
She lowered her head against his back. “I really thought we were going to get out,” she said in a low voice, suddenly seeming very adolescent again.
He looked over his shoulder as she hugged against his larger frame. Marlowe regretted in that moment having never married, never having a child. Comfort was something for which he searched, something that he wished to give.
“We’re going to get out, Dana. I promise.”
She nodded in response at his back.
He sighed, looking at the runner lights of the Cerulean Dreams building. He had to ignore the mass of crawling forms that skittered across the surface. His eyes narrowed as he saw something larger.
“Oh damn,” he whispered.
It rose from the roof of the building slowly.
Powerful wings freckled with veins and scaly claws reached out into the air, pulling at it for speed. The scream of its ascent was deafening, horrifying. It was a feral screech from the beyond so distressing that Marlowe had to shield his ears with his hands.
Marlowe shook his head, grabbing a hold of the controls once more. “It looks like we go. Hold on, Dana,” he called as he engaged the gravibike, sending them in a spiraling decent.
She screamed, but the force of their plunge sucked the exclamation from her throat. Gripping tightly to Marlowe as they swerved and duck-tailed, she closed her eyes. The gravibike reacted to every movement of his hands.
Pounding its massive wings against the air, it lumbered toward the pair. Fibrous wings were paper-thin. Its jaws were a series of spiky protrusions that dripped with lingering saliva. Snapping its mammoth jaws a second too late, they passed between them and dove toward the Cerulean Dreams building.
Thunder rolled.
Lightning struck––its tendrils purplish.
Marlowe blinked several times as the world shifted. He saw patches of luminance on everything. The building, cracked and worn, appeared in gold blotches like splattered paint along its walls. A storm brewed in the sky, a cornucopia of colors intersecting with one another as clouds curled tumultuously.
Marlowe craned his neck over his shoulder to see the huddled Dana. Her exposed skin radiated in a plethora of colors, vibrant reds and oranges littered across her skin.
He swallowed hard.
The screech of the creature and the undulating dip of its long, slithering neck were a horrific image as it changed direction to pursue the speeding gravibike. Marlowe lunged forward, his full body weight negotiating the bike into a deathly drop.
His voice was hoarse as he tried to talk over the whistling wind of their decent. “I’m letting you off,” he howled as he swerved left and right. Twisting, he dodged pieces of architecture broken loose by the creature’s pursuit.
She looked at him, her eyes wide.
“No,” she whispered.
Marlowe grimaced as he cranked hard on the controls, bringing the gravibike level once more. “I can’t do this and worry about your safety. If I put you on the ground, then we stand a better chance against this creature.”
She shook her head.
“No, I want to stay with you.”
“I will come back for you, Dana. I promise.”
She was shaking at his back. Her small face seemed more petrified than it had before. “What if you die? What if you can’t come back?”
“Then you keep going. Get through the gate any way that you can.”
She hugged against his back, her eyes closed.
“I don’t want…”
Marlowe saw the building in front of them rush into vision and pulled the gravibike up, the red blinking lights of the imminent collision flashing angrily at him. They screamed vertically up the building, shattering windowpanes as the gravibike struggled to stabilize.
Dana had buried her face into his back. Her voice was muffled as she answered once again. Her vociferous declination was lost.
Marlowe rolled the bike again, taking them into a controlled spiral. Weaving beneath an overpass and through an open garage, it provided them a moment’s reprieve from the creature. He reached around and grasped one of her slender wrists, turning her so that she faced him. Her body was very nearly off of the bike.
“I’ll leave you under here. I’ll catch up to you.”
She lowered her eyes, glassy reservoirs that struck at the heart of him. “No….”
He grasped her chin in his rough hand, making her face him. “I’ll come for you, Dana. I promise that I will find you no matter what.”
She nodded, a tear tracing down her cheek and dropping on his long, dark coat.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded weakly.
“Then trust I’ll make it back to you. We have come this far. I will see this through. I will keep you safe. But in order to do that, you have to let me do this.”
He lifted her from the gravibike. Setting her down on the ground, he gunned the bike, sending him shooting back out into the volcanic night. She gazed up at him, her windswept hair obscuring her vision as he jetted back into the midst of battle. Dana could still not understand what creature it was that Marlowe was seeing.
She saw only a helicopter hidden in the night.
*
The air had grown heavy.
Wind sliced against him.
Rain ripped across the open air in sheets.
He looked out across the city.
Deep pools of purple and crimson filled his vision.
No longer did he see the world as gray and dark.
It was illuminated in a haunting rainbow of surreal shades and colors. The creature had perched high above Marlowe. Its wings were coiled around itself, polished and locked as if it wore a black slicker. White eyes, like beams of light, stared down at Marlowe.
Louder than the crackling thunder, it assaulted his mind. He thought of Dana: cold, wet, and scared. She waited for him to return. Lightning crawled across the blackened sky.
It was yellow and white, emerald and shadow, as it flickered. He drew the blade from his back. The edge was acid-etched, sharpened to a killing blow. Replacing his handgun at his waist, he gunned forward.
The gravibike’s screaming turbines woke the creature. It uncoiled with a screech, its massive body lifting from its perch and thundering toward Marlowe. The rain pelted against him as he craned his head back, welcoming the cold slap of the elements. He held the blade in his left hand, maneuvering the bike with his right, watching the piercing gaze of the serpentine creature in flight.
Thorny scales covered its underbelly.
Vicious claws glistened in the rain. The tips were a glowing green. Its beak was the fore of a torpedo––blackened––and gnarled ears laid back against its misshapen skull. Each flap of its grotesque wings grew ever louder, like a monumental thunderclap.
Marlowe ducked right, pulling the bike with him. The blade lashed out, digging deep into the underbelly of the creature. It howled and reared, exposing its underside. Bluish liquid poured from the deep gash, covering Marlowe as he pulled the gravibike from underneath the frenzied creature.
He could hear screams and shouts from below, but he did not dare take his eyes from this winged beast that sought him. They hovered horizontal to one another, the creature agonizing and writhing in the rainy night. Marlowe wiped his free hand across his face.
The creature’s blood was viscous and rank.
It faltered, floundering for a moment.
Marlowe roared, his head thrown back. His laughter was lost to the thunder and lightning. He flashed forward, the world around him suddenly seeming so slow. The creature’s movements, as well as the rain and the thunder, were in slow motion.
The gravibike felt sluggish beneath him.
He lashed out with his blade, plunging it deep into the beast; slaying the mythic dragon of a digital age like a warrior of the Round Table. Collapsing upon itself, it began a swirling death dive. Wings flaccid, spiraling as it crashed into the earth, it dug deep into the cement and metal of Orion.
