Merciless

by Robin Parrish

  Daniel knew it was a rhetorical question, but he watched Ethan's expressions carefully, and for a moment he almost thought Ethan was going to answer her. But the moment passed.

  Ethan had already explained the mission the Appointed had sent him on, to infiltrate the Secretum's underground city in the hopes of stopping Grant Borrows from entering there should he ever attempt to. It was to Ethan's great shock and horror that Grant and his friends had already beaten him to the place by the time he got there. He then told them of Grant's fate.

  The part about the underground city, Lisa had the most difficulty swallowing. Daniel, meanwhile, rarely said anything, unless it was to clarify something Ethan had told them. But he never released Lisa's hand.

  "And Grant's dead? You're sure about that?" Lisa continued. "And some ... thing ... called `Oblivion' has taken up residence in his body? And his being here is somehow causing the world to undergo this drastic physical change? And it's caused time to disappear too?"

  "That's more or less the size of it," Ethan replied.

  "So what do you expect us to do?" Lisa asked. "And why can't these Appointed do something to stop Oblivion?"

  Ethan let out an impatient breath. "My understanding is that their entire focus was on keeping Oblivion from coming into being, at any cost. I didn't get the impression that they had a contingency plan for what to do if it ever actually happened."

  "This is all just so big," Lisa sighed. "What are we supposed to do?"

  "We do what we always do," Ethan said, sounding almost offended that she had to ask. "We help Grant. We finish what he started."

  "How?" asked Lisa, incredulous.

  "The Dominion Stone," Trevor spoke up, surprising everyone with these words. Daniel turned to face him, and the others did the same. But Trevor's attention never wavered from the television set in front of him. "I heard them talk about it loads; they were always intent on keeping it as far away from Oblivion as possible. As much as the Secretum reveres it-I think they're afraid of it too."

  "I think we could work that," Daniel said softly. His mind was spinning, and he didn't miss the expression on Ethan's face either. This was clearly news to him as well.

  "We have to get to Los Angeles, now," Ethan said. Daniel nodded in agreement.

  "You're both crazy!" Lisa cried, nearly jumping up from her seat and pointing to the TV. "Have you seen the news reports? It's the end of the world, and you two think you're suddenly action heroes! According to your own words, Oblivion is allpowerful. He'll squash us or suck out our brains through our noses or-"

  "If Grant really is dead," Daniel interjected and Lisa fell silent, "and his entire team is out of the picture, then it falls to us to take action. There's no one else."

  "But it's hopeless!" she nearly shouted. Daniel was beginning to realize that she had changed since their experiences in jail. Where she once would brave the unknown, something about their shared time together, the things that had been said, and nearly losing him again had caused her to become much more apprehensive in the face of danger.

  Lisa collected herself and then spoke with more calm. "Daniel, you've been through a second terrible ordeal in less than a year's time. I'm not sure you're thinking clearly ..."

  "No, I am thinking clearly, finally," he said, turning loose of her grasp and wobbling precariously to his feet. It was meant to be a gesture of bravado, but his broken body couldn't quite pull it off. "We have to do this because it's what Grant would do. It's something he tried to teach us through his actions."

  "What did he try to teach us?" Lisa asked, and he had Ethan's full attention now too.

  "On principle alone, evil must be fought," Daniel concluded. "The line between right and wrong has to be held. Good has to stand up to evil and not back down. Even if there's no chance of success, and there may not be for us-that fight, the struggle against darkness ... it matters. It matters beyond the here and now."

  In the silence that followed, Trevor turned up the television volume a bit, and the room's attention turned toward the latest report.

  " . . . and though government officials are staying mum on the subject, it seems that there can now be no doubt that an international coalition of military forces is gathering in southeastern Turkey. We have no information as of yet regarding what the military buildup intends to do there, though there have been rumors that the devastating changes to the environment have their origins somewhere in Turkey. But as one eyewitness to the mass troop mobilization put it, `They have enough weapons to take on God himself."'

  "They're doing it," Ethan whispered, and it didn't escape Daniel's notice. Daniel looked at the blond man and noticed that his entire body language was changing. He was sitting forward in his seat now, more alert. His eyes were focused on something far away, and his expression was grim and determined.

  He suddenly stood from his seat. "I have to go."

  "Go where?" Daniel asked.

  "They're going to try and take on Oblivion with military might. I told them not to, but ... they won't listen ... So I have to go. I have to go where they're going to be-to the battle."

  "But what can you do?" Daniel asked, logic racing to the front of his mind. "You already said they won't listen to you. You're just one man, Ethan."

  "One man without superpowers," Lisa chimed in.

  "I'm a trained, highly skilled federal agent, and I'm not going to run the other way while American soldiers are about to engage in a fight they have no chance of winning."

  "But how do you know that?" Lisa asked. "If the TV report is right about how many troops are being sent, what makes you think they don't have a chance against Oblivion and his army of-what, twenty Ringwearers? At most?"

  "You don't understand!" Ethan said, rounding on her with a fiery expression. "Everything I've been told by the Appointed has come true, and the one thing they told me repeatedly was that nothing can stand in Oblivion's path. If this coalition army gets in his way, he will mow them down without even slowing down."

  He knows more than he's saying, Daniel thought, wondering just what these Appointed had told him of Oblivion's capabilities to make him so adamant about this.

  "You haven't answered my question," Daniel said, and now he stepped around to block Ethan's path. "If Oblivion and his army are as powerful as you say they are, what can one mortal human hope to accomplish in opposing him? If you're determined to do this, I think at the very least, Lisa and I should come with you."

  Lisa blanched at this suggestion; Ethan shook his head violently.

  "Not a chance. No offense, Doctor, but neither of you have any training for armed conflict."

  "I know how to fire a gun," Daniel said, intentionally not letting his gaze wander to Lisa, who alone among them would understand the significance of this. "I'm a good shot too."

  Ethan examined Daniel carefully. "Are you good enough of a shot to kill your teammates-your friends? Because that may be what we're talking about here. I promised Alex I would save her and the others, and killing them may be the only way to do that. Could you draw a gun on Alex and put a bullet through her heart?"

  Daniel frowned and finally shook his head.

  "Look," Trevor said quietly, and for the first time he wasn't staring at the television. He was staring out the attic window behind them.

  In the distant horizon, the faint but unmistakable edge of dark boiling clouds were visible. The clouds seemed to be holding back an inferno of flames that wanted to dance upon the planet's surface. And they were coming this way.

  Ethan grabbed his small pack of belongings, then took Daniel's hand in a shake. He uncharacteristically placed his other hand on top of the two already clasped and squeezed tightly. "You two find that Stone. It may be humanity's only chance. If I make it through the fight, I'll find a way to meet back up with you in Los Angeles. Good luck."

  Daniel turned loose of the handshake. "And to you."

  With nothing left to say, Ethan stepped past them and made for the kitchen door.

&nbs
p; "Hey," Lisa called, her voice curious.

  Ethan turned back, pausing.

  "These Appointed people ... did they tell you what Oblivion is here to do, exactly?" she asked.

  "Not in specific terms."

  "I'll settle for nonspecific."

  Ethan's expression was firm and rigid. "If he can't be stopped, Oblivion will systematically exterminate every living thing from this planet, until nothing-not a single bacteria-is left alive. He has the power and he has the will, and he won't stop until it's done. The Bringer brings Oblivion ... and Oblivion brings all-encompassing death."

  He grasped the door handle and turned away from their faces, which were filled with shock and fear as they looked after him, and he summed it up for them. "He's here to kill us all."

  "THINGS ARE FALLING APART, aren't they?" Grant asked.

  "Why do you say that?" the other man replied.

  "I'm not sure. I just ... Things are unraveling somehow. I can feel that they are. War is brewing . . .

  "Things are unfolding according to plan, yes. But why do you care about what's happening to the world, Grant Borrows? You've left it behind. Your earthly troubles are over."

  "I care about my friends. Are they all right?"

  Mirror Grant shrugged. "They've had better days."

  "Then I need to get out of here. I need to help them," Grant said slowly, adding weight to each word.

  His doppelganger shrugged again. "You know as well as I do that they are not my-that is, ourconcern. They never really were. What can I say? We're that selfish."

  Grant took a step backward, examining his double. "Then what is our concern?"

  "Now we're getting somewhere. Why don't you tell me what our concern is."

  Grant wasn't breathing, so he couldn't sigh. He frowned instead. "I'm not sure I can. Right now, my main concern is helping my friends."

  Mirror Grant watched him closely as if reading his thoughts. "No, that isn't true. And I'll prove it. Take a look, here's something you'll probably find interesting .. .

  Mirror Grant made no gesture at all as he stepped to Grant's left, and in the dark space there formed a scene inside a three-dimensional box. It was like watching a live play, only in miniature, and Grant could walk around it and look at the stage from all sides.

  Inside, a lovely woman was in a great deal of pain on a hospital bed. Her legs were in stirrups and she was crying as she bore down and tried to push. A man stood next to her, gently telling her to push harder, holding her hand and drying her brow with a towel.

  "Come on, sweetheart, you can do it!" the man said with conviction. His expression was a mixture of emotions ... He was watching over her with great tenderness, but also trying hard to be strong and reassuring. There were traces of pain on his face as well, but he was doing his best to hide it. It seemed that watching his wife endure so much was deeply agonizing for him to watch.

  She collapsed backward on the bed, spent. She was covered in sweat and tears, her face red from the exertion. "I can't!" she cried.

  Grant looked closer at the room they were in. It was sparse but tidy, and he realized this was very likely a military hospital room.

  "Yes, you can!" the man replied, squeezing her hand harder. "You're strong."

  She opened her eyes and a flash of love and gratitude crossed her features before the pain of childbirth consumed her again, and she squeezed her eyes shut and bore down hard.

  "Come on, just think about the baby ... Our little girl's brother or sister is counting on you!" the man coached his wife.

  She pushed harder, and with two more pushes, an older man wearing a surgical mask and sitting at the far end of the gurney announced, "It's a boy!"

  The woman fell back onto the bed again and released her clenched muscles. She even began to laugh as the sounds of a baby's cry suddenly filled the room.

  "Here we go," said the doctor kindly, handing the baby off to a nurse. The nurse carried the screaming infant to the next room over, where he would be wiped off and swaddled before returning him to his mother.

  "Go," the mother said softly to her husband, who was looking longingly in the direction of the other room yet still clutching his wife's hand. "It's okay. He needs you."

  The man smiled and gently kissed his wife on her forehead. "I'll be right back," he said.

  She smiled in reply and squeezed his hand once more before he left.

  The doctor, who had lingered in the background, watched this scene unfold, and then once the husband was gone he removed his surgical mask.

  In the darkness where he watched, Grant's jaw tensed and he moved around the large box to get a look at the man from a different angle. He recognized the man at once, though he'd never known this person had ever been a doctor. His hair was already salt-and-pepper, but his face was full of charm and warmth. A stark contrast to the person Grant remembered.

  Without a word, the doctor casually walked around to the side of the woman's bed, withdrew a silenced sidearm from somewhere deep within the folds of his garments, and shot her through the head. It was so calculated, so casual, so unremarkable ... Grant hadn't had time to turn away from the image and had seen the whole thing.

  He slowly closed his eyes, and ripples of fear and awe shuddered through his system.

  She had died just like his sister. Just like her daughter.

  A single bullet to the head.

  When he opened them again, the scene had vanished and only the darkness and his mirrored companion remained.

  "Well," the other man said, "that was a defining moment, wasn't it? One that would shape the fates of everyone in the world, as a matter of fact."

  Grant was in shock, struggling to put words together. "That ... that man-the doctor who delivered me-that was ... my grandfather?"

  "Of course," mirror Grant replied. "Maximilian Borrows murdered his daughter-in-law, right after delivering her son-his grandson. You."

  Grant could only shake his head. He was still quivering all over, fighting the urge to launch himself at his double for making him watch that. "I didn't-I had no ... I never knew," he finally got out.

  "That your grandfather conducted your delivery?" his doppelganger replied. "Surprising that you never deduced it. You knew he killed her immediately after your birth. How else could he have gained such easy access to her at that time?"

  Grant continued shaking his head. "Why did you show me this?"

  "You needed to see it," the other man replied. "You've always wanted to. One choice by your grandfather set into motion every single thing that's happened to you throughout your entire life. It made you into the man you are. A selfish, self-pitying whiner who grew up hating everyone, because his mommy died before he knew her."

  Grant was clenching his fists at his side. Through gritted teeth, he replied, "That's not true. I don't hate people. Not anymore."

  Mirror Grant cocked his head sideways, watching him closely. "You hate me. And our time together has barely begun."

  Death.

  It was everywhere Payton looked. It was Oblivion, living inside of Grant. It was Alex, whose every movement was an exercise in torture. It was visible on every surface their feet trod on this senseless forced march.

  It was in the faces of those he'd just been forced to kill in Oblivion's name.

  Death to Oblivion. Death to Devlin. Death to every last member of the Secretum of Six. How he dreamed of it. Fantasized about dealing out death to everyone who deserved it. And how he longed for it, for himself. But not before he'd killed Oblivion and the Secretum.

  As the walking caravan continued on its eastern progression across the desert mountains of Turkey, his sword, sheathed within the scabbard on his hip, dripped with the blood of about two dozen innocents he'd been forced to slay. Two miles behind them lay a small, rural village that was now little more than a mausoleum for nine hundred and fifty-six corpses they'd left behind. The majority had been wiped out by Oblivion himself, with his terrible energy blast wave. Payton and a few of the
others were sent to mop up the leftovers. Women. Children. They'd spared none. Oblivion wouldn't let them.

  They were slaves. Machines with superpowers. Lifeless rag dolls to be put to use, played with, or cast aside at Oblivion's whim.

  The silent march continued through the darkened desert. Black earth, dark skies with fire licking the edges of the violent clouds, and incredible heat given off by Oblivion's presence; this was the nature of the new reality created by Oblivion. Robotically, Payton's feet shuffled beneath him, the soles of his boots already wearing thin and beginning to shred. He could only imagine what this was doing to Alex's bare feet.

  The Secretum members, including Devlin-curse himhad acquired a trio of Jeeps from the military base and were driving them slowly off to the side of Oblivion and his army. It seemed that their taste for following Oblivion on his relentless quest extended only as far as their own comfort could tolerate.

  How Payton hated them. It was a sensation so strong, so much more than emotional or physical, he often wondered if they could feel it pouring off of him. He hoped so.

  Hate was the only thing keeping him alive now. Hate was what made him refuse to block out any of the blood he was forced to spill in Oblivion's name. He knew this was far from over, but he would sear the faces of his victims into his brain and never let one of them be forgotten. And he would make sure that, in the end, Oblivion and every person belonging to the Secretum understood the error of their ways in all that they had done to him.

  How much better it would have been had he died in that cave-in so many years ago in France. And how fitting that it was another cave-in that birthed him into this wretched new existence. The warrior he had become from that experience, the lies he had been told by the Secretum in tricking him to hunt down Grant Borrows-all in an attempt to ... what? To unleash Grant's powers? To further him on this path to becoming Oblivion?

  Is that why they made him into this deadly assassin, revered all over the world as "the Thresher"? Was it merely a part of their machinations for Grant's destiny? Was his destiny to always be a fist to be used by others-first by the Secretum, and now Oblivion?