“It is not only the most convenient, or easiest, time to kill him,” Nanook said, “it is also the morally right time to kill him. Given what he’s doing out there every morning, it would be my pleasure to take the shot myself.”
“What do you think he’s doing?” Afon said.
Nanook turned to Fyodor. “Let me ask you brother, does Mortterra have any expression on his face when he’s out there in the morning?”
“Yes,” Fyodor said, “yes, he usually has his brows kind of pinched together, the way you do when you’re having trouble seeing something in the distance. Then, on days when, I don’t know, days when it seems a little darker, or like it’s taking longer for the sun to rise, he smiles a bit. Not a big smile, not like he did that one morning …”
“Go on,” Nanook said.
“Well, a couple of months ago, after you all had left, I was told to deliver a report to Mortterra that his science advisors had drawn up. I pushed the report through the slot on the front of his door, but the first page fell out of the folder and landed at my feet. It was a summary of data indicating that the bee population had dropped to a low enough level that total honeybee extinction would occur in months. The hives will not bounce back after this winter,” Fyodor shook his head and swallowed. “The report was saying that the bees are done, and everybody knows that means that we’re next. Anyway, my hands were shaking as I slid the top sheet through the mail slot, hoping that Mortterra wouldn’t notice my clumsiness. He scares me even more than what I’d just read.”
“Go on, Fyodor,” Afon said, a look of concern on his face as he tried to puzzle out what it was that Nanook wanted Isi’s brother to say. What could make it the morally right time to kill Mortterra? Isn’t any time a good time to kill a dictator?
“In any event, I was assigned to Mortterra’s personal guard that morning. About half-an-hour after I’d dropped off the bee extinction report, Mortterra went outside and conducted his normal morning routine, sitting quietly, and watching the sunrise. But on that day, he didn’t remain quiet.”
“Did he say something?” Afon said.
“No, he didn’t speak, as such, it’s just that he, well, he …” Fyodor fumbled for the words. “Well, it doesn’t make any sense, but he laughed. He actually sat there and laughed to himself the whole time that the sun was coming up. By the end of it, tears were streaked all over his face, and he was happier than I’d ever seen him. But he was out there all alone, and I’m not the only soldier who thought that was some kind of madness, slipping through his mask … to laugh all alone like that, and for that long.”
“He is not mad. The word for it among my people is tornuaq – he is evil,” Nanook said. “You know why Mortterra was laughing Fyodor, you know it, deep in your heart.”
“He was laughing at the sun,” Fyodor said. “I can’t imagine a reason that anyone would do that.”
“When you were a boy,” Afon said, finally realizing Nanook’s point, “do you remember that friend of yours who trapped a hummingbird? I think you were seven, or eight. I was home from the military academy for a visit. I was upstairs with Isi when we heard you screaming from the other side of the farm. We ran to you, quick as we could. You were standing next to a tree, pointing and crying, soundlessly, with no air left in you to scream. Your friend had hit a hummingbird with his slingshot, when he had been roaming the woods earlier during recess. He’d stunned it and, while the bird was unconscious, he’d nailed its wings onto a tree. He showed you the bird, a few hours later, while you two were walking home from school. That’s when you screamed. When your sister and I got to you, the poor little guy was trying to flap his wings … still. He’d probably been at it for hours. His feet were covered in wounds, and pieces of bark, that he’d chipped away from the tree while he was struggling to hold his weight up. Isi told me later, that just hanging there was snapping all of the bones in his wings. Anyway, you were crying, and your friend was laughing. He laughed harder every time the little bird struggled, laughed when he tried to beat his wings, laughed when he tried to dig his talons in, laughed when the bird opened and closed his beak, noiselessly, no longer able to summon the energy to cry out. Why was Mortterra laughing at the sun? For the same reason that bully from your childhood laughed at the bird.”
“Mortterra was laughing at the sun …” Fyodor said.
“Mortterra was laughing at the sun, and at the report that you’d just given him,” Nanook said. “The death of the bees means that the death of all of us is inevitable. The whole human race, gone. And Mortterra will be able to watch as species after species wages a battle for survival that’s impossible to win. We will all be like that little bird, nailed to the tree. Afon is right. We will try to dig in our toes, and we’ll kick bark up the whole time, as evidence of our struggle, but the death of the bees means the death of us. And that makes people like Mortterra very happy.”
Harland had been trying to follow along, but staying quiet for too long had a way of derailing his train of thought.
“I’m sorry mates, I think I missed something,” Harland said. “What wound up happening to the little bird then? We could always make a stop in our time travels and get that bird bullying bastard, couldn’t we?”
“That we could Harland,” Nanook said. “Good to know you’ve still got a soft spot to your soul, after all you did in London.”
“Guys …” Fyodor said, and was ignored.
“I did what I had to do to survive,” Harland said. “What I did was natural, survival of the fittest, predation, the whole Darwinian pie, but killing for sport, enjoying a death because of the suffering of the dying one, that’s unnatural. We can take care of Mortterra chaps, and then let’s get rid of the bird bully as well. I cannot very well hear a story like that, and not do something about it.”
“Um, guys,” Fyodor finally spoke loud enough to make it impossible to ignore him. “Just wait a second here, the bird lived.”
“What?” Nanook and Harland exclaimed in unison.
“The hummingbird lived,” Fyodor said. “Remember Afon? Isi had you ease the nails gently out of his wings and then she caught him, and took him home with us. The little guy curled up in her lap like he belonged there; so capable of trusting a human after what another human had just done to him. A small moment of grace – not in a religious way, but the grace of nature, repairing the body and the soul at the same time, sending a human to heal the destruction wrought by another human, healing the birds body and showing him that it’s okay to still trust – that kind of grace.”
“Your sister has taught you well, Fyodor,” Nanook said.
“So, the bird lived then, did he?” Harland persisted.
“Oh yes,” Fyodor said, “he lived. He lived and followed my sister around for the next three years, right from the moment she brought him home, until he died in his sleep, in her room, the night before the great flood.”
“He followed her around, right from the moment that she brought him home?” Harland said. “But, surely the poor bird couldn’t move, after what had just happened to him.”
“Don’t worry, he could move alright,” Fyodor said. “I used to tease Isi about it, actually. One touch from her, and the little guy was up and taking water out of an eyedropper. Crazy bird whisperer of a sister, I’ve got.”
“One touch, and he was fine?” Harland asked.
“Well, one touch and he drank some water. He stayed in her lap for a few hours, I went to bed, got up the next morning, and the little guy was hopping around behind her,” Fyodor said.
“Oh my god, the Countess is …” Harland said.
“Isi is not what we should be talking about right now,” Afon said. “Dawn will be here in a few hours, and we all need to get some rest, especially you and I, Fyodor. We are the ones with military experience here, so I suggest that we be the ones to take aim at Mortterra tomorrow, while Nanook and Harland watch our backs.”
“Yes, Afon, I agree,” Fyodor said.
“Oh come on, chap
s,” Harland said. “Can’t we stay up just the bit later? I am enthralled by the stories of the Countesses power.”
“Harland, not now,” Afon said with a hint of menace to his voice.
“But Afon, really now, you must be quite proud of her,” Harland said. “To be dating a witch, I can only imagine!”
Afon leapt through the air at Harland, fangs extended. Harland stepped to the side, moving faster than the speed of light, and Afon stopped his lunge just short of smacking into the tree behind where Harland had just been standing.
“I … I don’t understand,” Harland stammered, shaking with fear. His powers were the same as Afon’s, but they were new to him and, even on a level playing field, the fierceness of Afon’s desire to protect Isi would still put Harland in danger. “What did I say? I only meant to complement the Countess.”
“Let it go, Harland,” Fyodor said. “My sister does not speak of these things, has not spoken of these things in a very long time.”
“But why?” Harland said. “She is so special, I knew it from the moment I saw her.”
Afon grabbed Harland around the throat, pinned him to the tree, shut him up, and forced him to listen.
“Because, you fool, the more special she is,” Afon said, “the more people will want to kill her. If they can’t have what she has, if they can’t be what she is, they don’t want her to exist at all. Why do you think people used to hunt lions? Because we were clawless and fangless, defenseless against such a majestic predator, but we had guns, so we could make a game out of killing the jungles king, a game out of the death of something beautiful and superior to us. That’s what humans do Harland. That’s why we don’t talk about Isi. Now … go … the fuck … to sleep,” Afon said, with his hand still around Harland’s throat, and smashed Harland’s head into the tree three times, in rhythm with the cadence of his words. Then Afon released Harland, and he fell to the forest floor.
Harland brushed himself off, rolled over, and looked up at Afon.
“I am so sorry, please forgive me Afon,” Harland said. “I have the nastiest habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Mum’s the word, from now on chap. I will not speak of the Countess again.”
Afon fixed Harland with a steely look, and didn’t respond. He walked away a few feet, and sat down with his back to a tree.
“Let’s just all get some sleep,” Nanook said. “I’ll stand guard, the rest of you, lie down and rest up for tomorrow. Anger will not help us be centered for all that we could face in the morning.”
Afon nodded, and put his head back against the tree. The bark was rough, at first, against his neck and the bare skin on the backs of his arms. But then a softness came; he felt the warmth of the sun radiating out from the core of the tree, where it had been soaking in all day. The muscles of his back leaned into the tree and found a ready hammock, weightlessly supporting him. He fell asleep thinking that tomorrow, when he took his shot at Mortterra, he would remember to picture this tree, remember this moment. He would not smile at Mortterra’s death, he would not kill for the sake of killing – he would take one life tomorrow, in the way nature intended, and in her service.
TWENTY SEVEN
The first rays of sun trickled over the land surrounding Thule Airbase. Ignis Mortterra was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, the cold morning dew soaking through his pants. He stared at the horizon, willing the sun to move even slower up the wall of the sky.
“Hah! There it is,” Mortterra said, and clapped his hands together. The sun had stopped its ascent briefly and quivered, hugging the horizon, shaking, and briefly dimming. The Earth’s life force was five minutes slower rising today, then yesterday.
Everything was slowing down and preparing for death. The grass was brittle and brown, uninterrupted by any splash of color. The pollinators were almost gone, and they had taken all of the color of the world with them.
Mortterra smiled; it was almost time for him to go. He’d stayed in this time period for far longer than he’d intended to, after the Immortals botched execution, but now events were beginning to force his hand. The death of the Earth was moving along at a much quicker pace then he had foreseen. He needed to get out of this doomed time while he still could.
A few days then … I’ll talk to the engineers and make sure that someone who knows how to fix the Infinmachine comes with me. Need to bring most of my computer setup as well; its functions should still work one hundred years in the past. And I’ll need George Murphy in good enough shape to travel with me. He knows the basics of Nizienko’s nano-technology, so I’ll need him around to build the nanobots I want to sell, since that damn Isi wouldn’t go along with the plan. I swear, I’m still going to track that bitch down, no matter where, or when, she is …
Almost as if he could hear Mortterra’s thoughts, Afon timed his first shot for that moment.
Boom, the sound of the rifle ricocheted across the airbase. From the other side of the base, in the tree line opposite from Afon, another explosion quickly followed, sounding like an echo of the first shot. Fyodor had fired as well.
Two red circles, half an inch apart, bloomed on Mortterra’s shirt on the left side of his chest. Two direct hits to the heart.
Mortterra fell backward onto the grass. If he could still see, he would have noticed that the sun was only half way up the sky, still slowly rising, and he would have seen a shadow crossing the low-lying sun, as Afon leapt through the air to Fyodor’s side.
TWENTY EIGHT
Fyodor was looking through a pair of binoculars, focused intently on the spot where Mortterra had gone down, when Afon landed on the ground next to him, the early fallen leaves crunching under his feet.
The forest was still dark, hiding them with her embrace, but Thule Airbase had come alive with the sound of the shots. Every light on the base was blazing, burning through precious electricity. A general alarm had sounded, and every soldier of the AmEur Alliance on base had assembled in the area that they’d been previously drilled to guard. Every inch of Thule was in lockdown.
Afon knew the drill. Now that the interior of the base was secured, troops would fan out and search the land outside of the fence – from the ground, and from the air. Searchlights already combed the sky, making sure the airspace above Thule was clear – clear enough for the AmEur Alliance heliplanes to deploy. As fast as a military jet, and able to take off, and land, without a runway, these fighter planes were what kept Thule impenetrable. And they were what made Afon want to leave as quickly as possible.
“Fyodor, what are you doing? Put those binoculars down and come with me,” Afon said. “We’ve got to get back to the other side of the tree line, meet up with Harland, and get out of here. Where’s Nanook? He is supposed to be here with you.”
“Just a minute … let me see …” Fyodor said, still cupping the binoculars to his eyes.
“Fyodor! I can see much better than those damn tubes you’ve got, but none of us can see through the bodies of the soldiers who’re encircling Mortterra. We know he’s hit, and we know we need to get out of here. Drop those glasses, grab Nanook, and let’s go,” Afon said.
Fyodor reluctantly lowered the binoculars, sighed, turned around, and whistled, “Chit-chitit,” a few times into the surrounding woods.
“What is that?” Afon said.
“Nanook and I arranged a signal. He’s guarding my shooting position from a hundred yards away, through that thicket,” Fyodor said. “It’s the call of a ruby-throated hummingbird. I figured that would be appropriate.”
“Chit-chitit. Chit-chitit,” Fyodor called again, receiving no answer from the still dark forest.
“One hundred yards away, you said?” Afon asked.
Fyodor nodded.
“In which direction?”
Fyodor pointed north.
Just then, from the direction that Fyodor had been pointing, a huge tree limb, flying as fast as a missile, whistled between Fyodor and Afon, and blasted into the earth ten feet from them.
“Take cover,” Fyodor yelled, falling back on his military instincts. He wrapped his arm around Afon’s broad shoulders, and brought him to the ground alongside him.
Afon pushed himself up, but motioned for Fyodor to stay crouched down.
“We’re not under attack, that’s Nanook’s version of a birdcall,” Afon said. “He is under attack … Fyodor, stay here and wait for me.”
“No, you can’t go after him by yourself,” Fyodor said. He picked his Captain’s hat up off of the ground, where it had fallen when he dove for cover, brushed off the leaves that were sticking to his hair, and put his cap carefully in the center of his head. “You can’t go out there alone,” Fyodor said again, and turned north to help Afon seek out Nanook.
“Brother,” Afon said and wrapped his hand around Fyodor’s arm, grabbing him just above the elbow. The skin on the top of Afon’s hand made contact with Fyodor’s side. Through the young mans stiff AmEur Alliance dress coat, Afon could feel Fyodor’s heart, pumping away mightily beneath his skin.
So mortal … still such a fragile boy.
“Brother, you must stay here. Nanook may make his way back to us. Besides, can you imagine what your sister would do to me, if I let you put yourself in danger like that?”
“I’m stronger than I look, Afon.”
“I know Fyodor, I know, but Nanook and I can’t really be harmed, no matter what happens. I’m sure we’d have a better chance with you there, but in this case, us impenetrable and less skilled tanks are what’s needed, not your precision sniping. We all contribute what we can, Fyodor. Do you understand?”
Fyodor nodded.
“Stay here, and wait for us. We’ll all transport back together, soon, okay?”
Fyodor nodded again, and looked as sad as a dog being told that his master would be home soon – soon could be an eternity.
“Listen brother, I’ve got to go. No matter what you hear,” Afon said, “stay here and wait for us. My transporter will bring anyone within a five-foot radius back with me; so if you see Nanook and I running for you, brace yourself. We might have to leave quickly. You’ll just feel a jolt, then like the world is lurching out from under your feet, and then you’ll be in Detroit, with your sister. Okay? I’ll be back soon.”
Immortal Earth (Vampires For Earth Book 1) Page 14
