Merciless

by Robin Parrish

  Daniel's line of thought was interrupted when her lips pressed into his, and if time hadn't already stopped, he would have sworn that it had been bottled just now, just for the two of them, wrapped inside this perfect moment ...

  He was startled out of the kiss and pulled away from her suddenly. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

  She was grinning from ear to ear, giddy. "All I heard was my pulse racing past my ears."

  "It sounded like hammering, or maybe some kind of crash-"

  He heard it again, and this time Lisa's eyes grew at the sound too. It sounded as if someone had picked up a bunch of debris off the ground and tossed it out of their way. They both searched for the direction the sound had come from.

  "What was that?" Lisa whispered.

  "Someone beat us here."

  Ethan couldn't believe it. His eyes were showing him a vision that couldn't be real. It was impossible.

  But the world was now a place where the inconceivable had become reality.

  Flat on his stomach at the top of a hill over three miles to the south of the battlefield, Ethan surveyed what was left of the site. Oblivion and his army had marched through the region and leveled everything in their path, in what Ethan felt had been only a moment.

  Weak from running so far and carrying a grown man over his shoulder, Ethan could not keep going. Lying down on the ground seemed like a perfectly rational option. Adrenaline would take him no further. He had actually managed to doze off for a few minutes after collapsing on the ground, but the unconsciousness brought no real restoration, and soon he was awake again.

  After unlocking his cuffs, he'd rolled over onto his stomach to take a look at the destruction Oblivion had wrought. From what he could tell from this distance, there seemed to be little if anything left of the coalition forces. Every tank, every weapon, every human being-it was all gone, swept clean by Oblivion's upturning of the ground as he marched. Even the fighter jets and bombers had crashed to the ground, mostly plucked from the sky by Oblivion's immense power.

  Sorrow flooded into him at the reality and magnitude of the loss of life. This was no longer a battleground; Oblivion had transformed it into a mass graveyard. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers-possibly up to a million brave men and womenall dead. He'd tried to warn them. He knew he'd done everything he could.

  He could only feel pity for Director Stevens and General Davies and their ilk. They'd brought this on themselves and all of the men and women under their command. True, Oblivion would have tracked them all down and killed them off eventually anyway, just like the rest of the human race, but they'd basically offered up a not small percentage of humanity to him, allowing him to kill so very many all at once. The fools.

  This train of thought was stalled when he heard faint grunting sounds to his immediate right. Sergeant Paul Tucker was stirring awake at last, having passed out not long after Ethan slung him over his shoulder.

  "What?" he slurred, opening his eyes. Back to the ground, Tucker startled himself awake, jerking back to reality. "Where ... ?"

  "Relax," Ethan said, pushing himself up onto one elbow, "the battle's long over, Sergeant." Ethan gestured with his head in the direction of the battlefield.

  Tucker pushed himself up slowly, painfully until he was on his knees. Ethan was pleased to see the residual effects of Hector's pain attack seemed to have been only temporary. The effects of what his eyes were absorbing right now would last a lifetime.

  Tucker tried to mouth a question, starting with the word how, but no sound came out. He merely stared, eyes wide open, unable to speak.

  "I'm sorry," Ethan said. "They're gone."

  "My men. . ." Tucker whispered, his demeanor unchanged. Tucker took a deep breath, his features still in shock from the devastation spread out in front of him, the loss of life.

  "I'm sorry," Ethan said again.

  The sergeant began getting to his feet. "Survivors ..."

  With great effort, Ethan stood to block the other man's path. "Oblivion wouldn't have left any."

  Ethan's jaw cracked when Tucker sucker-punched him, and Ethan staggered backward until he partially fell to the ground, bracing himself with one arm. Tucker moved forward, blood in his eyes. "You dragged me away from the battle-from my men! And now they're dead! They are good men, loyal soldiers, hardworking ... They deserved better than ... And I wasn't even with them ... !"

  Ethan wiped the blood from his lips. "There's nothing you could have done. And I mean nothing."

  "I should have been with them . . ." Tucker muttered, looking far off to the plains, a stricken look on his face. "Command ... I have to report in, the Army has to know!"

  Again, Ethan took up position in front of Tucker, but this time he was ready to duck. He'd let the soldier have his moment, but the longer they stayed here, the more people Oblivion would kill.

  "Sergeant," Ethan said slowly, bracingly. "You really think there is an Army anymore?"

  Tucker's arms fell to his sides, his shoulders and head going limp. He closed his eyes.

  After a long moment of silence, with his eyes still closed, he asked, "What's happening? What is Oblivion? What's all this about?"

  "The human race is being eradicated," Ethan explained, massaging his jaw again. "Utterly and without mercy. You want to help stop it, then help me. Now."

  Tucker opened his eyes and raised his head, flashing Ethan an angry look. "I never asked you to drag me away from the battle! I'm a deserter!"

  Ethan struggled to maintain his patience, trying to see the situation from the other man's shoes, but able to think only of Oblivion's rampage. "First-you didn't desert anything. Second-I didn't drag you, I carried you. Unconscious, over my shoulder. And third, there may be a way to end all of this, but I have to get back to my friends and help them. You want to stay here and mourn the dead, be my guest. I'm going to try and help the living ensure that this doesn't happen again."

  "Who are you?" Tucker asked.

  "I'm one of the good guys," Ethan replied. "So are you. We're fighting the same enemy. But guns aren't the way to do it. There's still a chance to save everyone who's still alive on this planet, but we could use all the help we can get."

  Tucker seemed to consider this. "Why should I believe you?" he asked. "You were in handcuffs the last time I saw you."

  Ethan sighed, his mind racing, trying to think of a way to break through the walls between them. "You have any family back home, Sergeant?"

  Tucker's eyebrows knotted together as he looked Ethan up and down. "I have a son. He's with his grandparents right now, but he lives with me on the base. Fort Bragg."

  "All right then," Ethan replied. "Do you want to go back to your son and watch him become the next dead body in Oblivion's wake? Or do you want to give your son, and the rest of the world, a fighting chance?"

  Tucker looked down. His head rose to survey the dead battlefield once more, his eyes moving slowly across the miles of mountainous plains set out beneath them. Ethan found it nearly impossible to read the weathered soldier's expressions.

  Finally, he turned to face Ethan again.

  "What would I have to do?"

  "Bring your gun," Ethan replied. "And consider yourself drafted by a higher power."

  The source of the sound seemed to rise from the very heart of the ruined complex.

  Without a word, Daniel began working his way in that direction, ducking around debris and climbing over where possible. His damaged foot, which had never been fully restored after the severe beating he took shortly before meeting Grant Borrows the first time, barely let him get on and he leaned on Lisa for extra support. She didn't protest for once, even though he knew she must be thinking this was foolhardy.

  He didn't care. He was on a mission. He felt alive-truly alive-for the first time in a long time, and it felt good.

  They had only gone about fifty feet before, to their far right, they discovered a pre-made pathway that appeared to lead directly into the heart of the destroyed building. It was
as if the wreckage and remains and all of the boulders from overhead that had fallen in this area had made room for a narrow path that led far inward.

  There was just enough room along the path for one person to maneuver through, so they had to walk single file. Daniel took the lead. Slowly, they worked their way deeper inside, until the rubble reached higher than their heads and the path became more like a canyon, very dark and towering well above them. There was a dim light source somewhere far ahead.

  The sound still seemed to wait ahead of them, but it was definitely closer now. They heard it every few seconds, echoing throughout the tiny corridor and growing louder the farther they went.

  "With our luck," Lisa whispered from behind, "it'll be Grant's grandfather back from the dead."

  Daniel's mind focused only on what lay ahead. The ground beneath his feet didn't escape his notice either, his eyes periodically glancing down in the dimness to search in case they should stumble across fragments of the Dominion Stone.

  They made it to within fifty feet of the light source when Lisa grabbed his arm from behind.

  "Wait," she whispered, barely audible. A slight urgency and panic was in what he could hear of her voice. "What if it's, you know ... somebody bad?"

  Without looking back, he let the backpack fall off of his shoulder into one hand and pulled a black pistol from inside. He held it up just high enough over his shoulder for her to see.

  She gasped. "Where did you get that?" she whispered, a little louder than he was comfortable with.

  He stopped and turned to face her. "Ethan had five of them. And a whole bunch of ammo."

  Her eyes grew in shock and disapproval, but Daniel didn't linger to watch her reaction turn to scolding, as he knew it would. He resumed his approach toward the end of the tunnel, now creeping slowly, his bad foot throbbing with the effort.

  Twenty feet away, he made out another sound that accompanied the banging, a guttural grunt. It was the kind of sound a gorilla might make upon exerting itself especially hard. Daniel cast a quizzical gaze back at Lisa before continuing. He released the safety from his pistol and extended the weapon straight ahead, edging slowly forward until he reached the end of the tunnel.

  There, he mashed himself back against the tunnel wall, and held out his right arm, pressing Lisa against the wall too. Daniel held a finger to his lips and then peeked his head out from the tunnel into the larger open space beyond, where the sounds sporadically continued. But his view from this vantage point didn't encompass the whole room, and the banging and huffing were coming from a spot around the corner that he couldn't see without being seen.

  This central chamber was the same large inner room where Grant and his grandfather had faced off against each other, not so long ago. Only it was mostly turned to garbage now.

  Daniel held out a hand toward Lisa to signal her to stay put. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a calming breath. He tried to imagine what Ethan or Payton would look like, and swung himself fully out of the tunnel and into the room, gun extended with both hands in front of him.

  He blinked.

  An old man with a bald spot and gray hair was hefting wreckage in the center of the room and slinging it onto a large pile. He stood fifteen feet from Daniel, facing sideways relative to Daniel's perspective. He didn't look up when Daniel approached.

  The man appeared more or less harmless; he was easily in his mid-sixties, with a slightly hunched back, leathery skin, and...

  And he was missing a hand. His left hand to be exact, which instead bore a functioning, but quite obviously prosthetic replacement.

  Something about this felt familiar, but Daniel couldn't quite sort it.

  Slowly, Daniel lowered the gun until it was at his side. He put it back into his jacket pocket and waved Lisa to come out of her hiding place.

  An expression of confusion and hesitation on her face, she stepped out and followed Daniel's gaze until her eyes landed on the old man. In barely a second, she registered the same shock and recognition that Daniel had.

  "That's not Grant's grandfather," she whispered. Turning to look around them, she added, "And he's been here for a while."

  Daniel saw that a camping tent had been erected off to one side in this wide open space, and a large backpack containing food and other supplies lay open on the ground next to it.

  He looked at Lisa, eyebrows raised high. She shrugged, then took a step forward.

  "Uh, hi there," she called out conversationally, as if talking to a child.

  The old man looked up at last. He appeared a bit surprised that they had snuck up on him and appeared so close. He seemed to size them up for a moment, and then the moment passed. He grunted roughly and motioned for them to come closer before returning to his task.

  "What's your name?" Lisa tried.

  The old man merely grunted again without looking up.

  Lisa said, "I don't know if he can speak."

  Daniel nodded, his mind still searching for an echo of something he couldn't quite grasp.

  "Oh," Lisa gasped. "Oh, wait! Didn't Grant say something during the L.A. riots about meeting a man with only one hand who couldn't talk?"

  That was it! Of course! "Yeah, yeah . . ." Daniel muttered. "He somehow told Grant about the Three Unholy Acts-"

  "-which were counting down to something," Lisa finished. "Guess now we know the big countdown was T-minus Oblivion."

  Daniel nodded at the memory.

  "So, uh," Lisa continued, but turning now to the older man, "you know Grant Borrows, don't you? Are you the man who met him at a nursing home during the L.A. riots?"

  The old man grunted again and gave a barely perceptible nod.

  "Was that a yes?" Lisa whispered.

  "Grant said the man he met that day had damage to the speech center of his brain," Daniel whispered back. "If this is the same guy, then that's probably the best yes he's capable of. But why is he here?"

  Lisa shrugged again and walked closer to the man. Daniel followed.

  "We're friends of Grant's," Daniel said, deciding that this was not the time to mention that Grant was dead. "I'm Daniel and this is Lisa."

  As they cautiously approached, the man waved them forward again, more urgently this time.

  They rounded the pile of rubble and saw stacked neatly at the man's feet a collection of more than two dozen brown stone fragments.

  "Those are fragments of the Dominion Stone!" Lisa cried, unable to stop herself. Her outburst echoed throughout the room and into the cave beyond.

  The old man stopped his work at once and looked straight up at the barely attached boulders and stones hundreds of feet above. He watched closely until the echoing sound of Lisa's voice faded, then let out a shuddering breath. He threw her a nasty look of warning and returned to his work.

  "Might want to pull back on the loud noises," Daniel whispered at Lisa. "I just wish he could tell us who he is."

  The old man ignored this while continuing to sift through the rubble at their feet.

  Lisa gasped again.

  Daniel jumped at the sound. "Stop doing that!"

  She pointed at something over his shoulder.

  Daniel turned. Fifty feet behind him, sprawled upon the ground, was the body of a man with perfectly groomed saltand-pepper hair, wearing a crisp suit and an expensive gold watch.

  Daniel was certain he knew who this was, but he couldn't resist checking it up close. He had to be positive. Together, the two of them walked closer to the dead body.

  The dead man lay face up, and the two of them were nonplussed to see that the man's wrinkled eyes were frozen open, staring directly ahead in shock. He had one arm on his heart, clutching it hard. He looked for all the world as though he'd suffered a heart attack and collapsed in shock. And stayed in that position at the moment of his death.

  His body had already entered decomposition. It wasn't so much that he was unrecognizable, but it was more than enough to give off the distinctly sickening odor of rotting flesh.


  "That's who I think it is, right?" Lisa asked.

  Daniel inspected the body closely. "It's Grant's grandfather. But it looks like he's passed something on to the next Keeper."

  He pointed and Lisa followed his direction. The silver Ring from his right middle finger was gone.

  "So this is how Devlin retrieved it," Lisa observed. "Interesting that he came all this way to get the Ring but left the Dominion Stone fragments behind, don't you think?"

  "Lends credibility to Trevor's suspicions about the Secretum fearing the Stone," Daniel replied.

  They left Maximilian Borrows where he lay and walked back toward the handless man.

  "Huh," Lisa remarked, shaking her head in wonder as the old man came into view again.

  "What?" Daniel whispered.

  "What are the odds," she whispered back, "that we venture down here to this destroyed Secretum base looking for the Dominion Stone, only to find some weird old man with one arm already digging it out, like he's waiting for us to arrive?"

  "Add it to the List of Crazy," Daniel replied.

  Daniel stepped up alongside the old man, who grunted at him again. This time the man precariously lifted a stack of Dominion Stone fragments off of the ground with his one good hand and tried to hand them to Daniel.

  "Oh!" Daniel exclaimed. "Um, okay.. ." He fumbled, opening the pack on his back and allowing the old man to drop the fragments inside. Another couple of handfuls and Daniel had every piece the man had recovered.

  "Have you found all of it?" Daniel tentatively asked, scratching his hand again.

  The old man grunted and gave a halfhearted shrug, which Daniel took to mean, I don't know, but what I found is probably enough.

  Without a word, the old man turned from them and began exiting the way they'd come in, through the narrow tunnel in the rubble.

  "So . . ." Lisa stammered, "are we supposed to follow him?"

  Daniel almost laughed at the absurdity of this. "I have absolutely no idea."