Worlds Collide: Sunset Rising, Book Two

by McEachern, S. M.

  Between those who had died and the group of men who left to fight, the number of people waiting for us in the forest was considerably smaller than I had originally anticipated. Some were wounded and moaning in pain.

  “Sunny!” my mother exclaimed. She ran toward me. “There was so much gunfire. I was terrified you wouldn’t make it out.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her. I had fared a lot better than most. “We need to get everyone to safety. There’s a cave close by.”

  My mother shook her head. “I’m not hiding in a cave. The men had the right of it—this is our fight.”

  Those who were still able-bodied were bristling at being left behind by the men. They wanted to fight too. It was obvious none of them were going to be led into a cavern to sit and wait it out.

  “What do we do?” Jin whispered to me.

  I was divided between honoring my duty in our plan and joining the fight myself. How many years had we put up with the bourge beating us? Killing us? We were finally fighting back. I didn’t blame them for not wanting to run and hide while someone else fought their battle.

  “Nothing,” I said. “They’re free. Free to make their own decisions.”

  The wounded were our biggest concern and we decided to send them to Dena’s barangay for help. A small group was put together to get everyone there safely. The rest of us went in the direction of the corrals.

  Crouching low in the brush, we observed the women’s compound. The dead littered the ground. Movement caught my eye—someone was moving among the dead soldiers, collecting rifles. I pointed to him and Jin-Sook nodded. He was one of us. We all crept down to the corral, under the fence, and started collecting weapons, too.

  One of the men approached us. “We got here right at the tail end of the fight. Any bourge left alive got into a jeep and took off. Both places are empty,” he said, pointing to the men’s corral. “The fighting’s moved to the city.”

  “The city?” I echoed. I thought our plan was to free everyone, blow the armory and get out.

  He motioned toward Jin-Sook. “Their army has the bourge pinned.”

  That was news. Big news. “Do you know where Jack Kenner is? Is he in the city?”

  He nodded. “Last I heard he was.”

  We finished collecting as many weapons as we could. With the rising sun, someone was thoughtful enough to grab a bag and collect sunglasses from each bunk. When we had everything we needed, we set out in the direction of the city. There were about eighty of us, mostly women. Terran and the other men had already made their way to the front lines. We skirted the residential area, where the houses stood empty and untouched by conflict.

  We passed a group of archers standing motionless along the tree line before we found Jack, Dena, and Naoki in the forest, deep in conversation, with only the archers to protect them if the bourge opened fire. They were so close to the city.

  I wasn’t expecting my knees to go weak when I saw Jack. Irrationally, tears sprung to my eyes and my hands started shaking. I noticed the side of his pants was stained with blood.

  “Jack!” I called.

  At the sound of my voice, he spun around. I ran to him, threw my arms around his neck, and felt my feet lift off the ground as he squeezed me tight. I buried my face in his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered in my ear. “Your arm’s bleeding.”

  “I’m fine.” He pulled away to look at my injury. I had felt the searing pain during the battle, but forgotten about it. “A bullet grazed me, that’s all. You’re hurt too,” I said, motioning toward his leg. I bent down to examine it, concerned by all the blood.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, pulling me back up. “I’m fine now that I know you’re okay. I was scared to death when I heard all the gunfire at the corrals.”

  “The corral was full of soldiers. They were using it as the center of operations for the search for us. The armory blowing drew them away. That was quite a bang.”

  He nodded. “It turned out that’s where they were building the drone. They had the gasifiers in there for the replicators.” He hugged me close. “Someone told me the tunnel collapsed. God, I’m happy you’re okay.”

  I pushed away so I could see him. “What happened to the plan? Free everyone and go back to the barangay to remuster?”

  He hesitated before answering. “My people are creatures of habit. They’d never miss cocktail hour, which lasts most of the night. So I knew the mess would be packed and, when the armory blew, they’d come running out.”

  “Oh my God, Jack.” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of emotional struggle went into making that decision.

  “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “They behaved exactly the way I thought they would. As soon as they ran out and discovered they were under attack, they ran back inside. The mess is still full. Some of the other buildings have soldiers in them too, and they’re firing at us if we get too close. Dena’s army has taken up strategic positions around the city. No one’s moving.”

  “So we’re in a standoff with them.”

  He held up a communicator. “I’ve been talking with Powell about a ceasefire. I’ve asked him to come out and meet with me personally.”

  “Tell him to bring Gaia.”

  He looked out of the corner of his eye. “Sunny—there’s a woman staring at us. Do you know her?”

  I looked in the direction of his gaze. My mom was trying to appear as though she hadn’t been watching us. “That’s my mom.”

  His eyes widened and he loosened his arms. “You could’ve told me she was there before I started making out with you.”

  “Do you want to meet her?”

  “Now?”

  I stepped back, taking his hand in mine, fully prepared to get this awkward introduction out of the way. My mom had always been very vocal about how much she hated the bourge. Having a daughter in love with one probably wasn’t going to sit well with her. But before we could reach my mother, Jack’s communicator came to life. He looked relieved. Stepping away from me, he answered.

  Dena and Naoki both started toward Jack when they heard his communicator. His conversation lasted less than a minute. He clicked off the device and looked at us.

  “Powell’s agreed to meet with me.”

  It was more than a little intense walking onto the city streets. We both knew there were snipers in the buildings with weapons trained on us. Dena’s archers took up strategic positions around the meeting area. If anybody got trigger-happy, bullets and arrows would start to fly with us caught right in the middle.

  There had been a lively discussion about who should be the one to go with Jack. Dena felt it should be her, but Jack was right when he said her presence could complicate things. Better to let us go and smooth things over with Powell before they met for the first time.

  Powell and Gaia came out of the mess at the same time we emerged onto the street from between two buildings. He was holding his arm where an arrow was sticking out of it. He paused on the step of the building as two soldiers came out and set up a table and two chairs in the middle of the street.

  “Guns on the ground!” Jack called out. The soldiers stopped what they were doing, showed us that they were unarmed, and completed setting up the table. The four of us walked toward it at the same time.

  Jack gave the man a curt nod. “General Powell, sir.”

  “Sir, is it?” The general smiled. “Always the diplomat.”

  Jack motioned to the table and chairs. “What’s all this?”

  “No need to be uncivilized, Jack. Have a seat.” Powell sat down heavily. His forehead was slick with perspiration. He looked to be in a lot of pain.

  “I think you’re missing a couple of chairs fo
r Sunny and Gaia,” Jack said.

  Powell raised his eyebrows. “Two more chairs,” he called out. “And a bottle of scotch!”

  Jack refused to sit down until Gaia and I were seated. I tried to gauge how she was reacting to all of this, but she was wearing glasses and her eyes were hidden. The only thing I had to go by was the thin set of her lips.

  A bottle of scotch and four glasses were put on the table. “Do you mind doing the honors, Jack? I’m not feeling so good.” He indicated the arrow sticking out of his arm. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a bandage underneath. I wondered if it was for the bullet wound Jack had given him.

  Jack poured the general a glass of scotch and set the bottle down.

  “I hate to drink alone, Jack.”

  “But you will.”

  Powell picked up the glass and tossed it back. “Gotta get some pain relief somehow. Unless you’re willing to let Doc come here and take this damn arrow out of my arm.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Gaia,” Powell barked.

  I curled my lip. It irked me that he thought he was still in control. “You ask her nicely or that arrow can stay right where it is,” I said.

  His head snapped toward me in a flash of anger. I returned his scowl. After all I’d been through, it was no longer in me to cower from a bourge. He looked at Jack, perhaps waiting for him to correct me. He didn’t.

  Powell rolled his eyes. “Gaia,” he said in an overly sweet voice. “Would you please get Doc for me?”

  Gaia didn’t even look at him. “No.”

  “Great,” he muttered. Turning slightly in his chair, he yelled toward the mess, “Someone get Doc!” A soldier ran out and headed toward the medical center. Powell leaned forward and slopped another drink into his glass. “So Jack…” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “We seem to have a situation.”

  “It would appear so, General. I’m hoping you’ll see reason and lay down your weapons.”

  “Just one question.” He stared down at his drink, twirling the glass, then looked at Jack. “Why? Why all this fighting, Jack? Because you fell in love with your urchin, and you’re pissed at me for wanting to hold her accountable for her actions?”

  Jack looked confused. “I assumed you’d been in touch with President Holt by now.”

  Powell shook his head. “No. Communications are still out.”

  “Huh,” Jack said, drawing his eyebrows together. “Has he been silent for this long before?”

  “Routinely. We only speak about six times a year. You know Damien. He’s so damn paranoid someone’s going to find out about this city and expose his plan that he doesn’t risk opening a channel very often.” Powell shifted his injured arm and grimaced. “I really wasn’t concerned about communications shutting down this time until you showed up. I figured Damien sent you out here to spy on me. Or maybe your wedding went better than planned, there was a full-on war being waged in the Dome, and you were here to get things ready. Now I don’t know what the hell is going on. Why are you here, Jack?”

  Jack frowned. “I thought you knew.”

  Powell shook his head, looking at a loss.

  “If you didn’t know, then why were you so determined to find me? Why did you capture children and kill two of them in an attempt to get to me? Why did you start this damn war if you didn’t know?”

  Powell looked incredulous. “I started this? You shot me and took off with her!” he said, glaring across the table at Jack. “Jesus, I’m not going to fault you for falling in love with your urchin—it’s not the first time in the history of the Dome that’s happened. But you’re the goddamn president’s son-in-law! Damien would flay me alive if he discovered I let you take off to live out some teenage wet dream. I needed to get you back, get rid of the girl, and sweep this all under the carpet before he found out about any of it.” Powell sighed heavily, looking around at the empty street. “But it looks like we might’ve passed the point of no return. He’s gonna find out about this.”

  Jack laughed. Not a funny kind of laugh, but the kind you do when you realize the irony of something. “You killed children just to save your own ass?”

  “I killed heathens to save not just my ass, but yours too! And don’t look so damn surprised. You and I both know that once Damien comes out of the Dome, their days are numbered.”

  “Oh, that’s right—Holt’s plans for his master race.” Jack leaned across the table, leveling a hard stare at Powell. “And you support him.”

  A disgusted snort erupted from Powell. “Look who’s accusing. You knew about his master race and you still married Leisel. I have to say, Jack, given that you’re a Kenner, I was real surprised you went through with the marriage, knowing it. You gave Damien exactly what he wanted.”

  “What the hell does marrying Leisel have to do with Holt’s master race?”

  I was confused too. I thought Leisel was the one who had orchestrated the marriage—conned her father into accepting a Kenner as a son-in-law, then framed him for treason.

  It was Powell’s turn to look puzzled. “You don’t know?”

  Jack slammed his open palm down onto the table, making the rest of us jump. “What the hell was he up to!”

  Powell nervously looked around. They weren’t visible to the eye, but we all knew there were weapons trained on us. “I’ll tell you everything. Just calm down.” Powell scanned the area one more time before he continued. “We all have family heirlooms, Jack. Priceless mementos passed down through the generations. I know the Kenners do.” He directed a conspiratorial smile at Jack. I wondered if he was referring to the videotapes the Kenners protected—the tapes that exposed Edward Holt. “One of my family heirlooms is a bunch of scrapbooks. My ancestors were into breeding dogs—a certain kind called golden retrievers. Retrievers come in all different colors—from light to dark—and if you want the offspring to be a light color, then you choose a bitch and sire with light colored ears. If you want a dark coat, then you look for dark-colored ears. So you see, Jack, in order to achieve the right color, you need to breed the dogs according to their ears. Of course, both dogs need to have the right pedigree as well, which was a bit of a problem.”

  Jack’s hand was still open, facedown on the table, but with Powell’s anecdote his fingers drew into a fist. “What does that have to do with me?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Powell.

  “Because when it came to eligible bachelors in the Dome, you were the fairest of them all. A perfect match for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Leisel Holt,” Powell said. His lips curved into a satisfied smile.

  Jack sneered. “Are you telling me that the master race is the Aryan race? That Holt is some kind of Nazi?”

  Jack looked about ready to jump across the table and grab Powell by the throat. I put my hand over his fist and squeezed, hoping it might calm him down. There were too many weapons around to start a fistfight. And the revelation that Holt might be a Nazi didn’t really change anything. It just explained that his insanity wasn’t random—there was actually a reason behind it.

  Powell nodded. “Now you’re getting it, Jack.” He downed his scotch and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Although the Holts don’t call themselves Nazis, they do claim to be direct descendants of Hitler.” Gritting his teeth, he shifted his injured arm. A new sheen of moisture broke out on his forehead. “The story goes that Adolf Hitler had an affair with his niece, and she ended up pregnant. It happened during his campaign to become Chancellor of Germany, and incest wasn’t a stain he wanted on his reputation. So the girl was locked up, she had the baby, and it was taken from her. It was public knowledge that his niece lived with him and there was already speculation about an affair, but when she committed suicide, it got tongues wagging and almost ended Hi
tler’s political career. He knew he had to get rid of the evidence but couldn’t bring himself to kill the baby—a son—so he had the child smuggled out of Germany and into the United States. They changed the child’s last name to Holt to protect his identity. But everyone close to the Fuhrer knew about the child and when Germany lost the war, hundreds of war criminals immigrated to America incognito, in search of Hitler’s legacy.” He paused to study Jack’s reaction. “Or so the story goes. Could be it’s all just an elaborate lie made up by someone who was delusional. Point is, the Holts believed it and so did the Nazi Party.”

  Jack seemed to be in a mild state of shock. He was staring at Powell, his mouth slightly agape. After a few moments, he sat back in his chair and studied the general thoughtfully. “You know about the videotapes my family protects, don’t you?”

  Powell nodded. “I’m aware of their rumored existence.”

  “They exist. I’ve watched them. And I’ve read Theodore Kenner’s diaries. He uncovered evidence that Edward Holt convinced President Taylor that North Korea had already launched so she would input her codes to retaliate with nuclear warheads.”

  “Are you asking me if Edward Holt started the war three hundred years ago? Yes, Jack!” he yelled. “World War Three wasn’t an accident. General Edward Holt was privy to a lot of information, including the existence of the Dome. The planet was in dire straits from climate change, people all over were suffering, and every leader in the world had their fingers on the button. The timing was perfect to annihilate humanity—to get rid of the vermin and repopulate the Earth with a worthy race. We just didn’t expect anyone would survive the holocaust.”

  “And killing everyone in the Pit figures into the plan how? What if some of them turn out to be blonde?”

  I thought of Goldie—her dark hair with a blonde streak. Would that make her eligible for Holt’s race?