Black Onyx Duology

by Victor Methos

  Sitting on the floor, leaning against a chair, she put her hands over her face and sobbed.

  16

  Daniel R. Green trekked through the snow on Mount McKinley with the crampons his grandson had given him for Father’s Day. The cold was biting, and though wrapped up tightly in arctic gear, he felt its sting on his face, hands, feet, and pretty much everywhere else.

  The place was beautiful. The trees were coated with white, and the mountain was a deep blue, capped with white and rust-colored dirt and stone underneath the snow.

  As he made the turn up a trail heading back to camp, he spotted something black half buried in the snow. He veered off the trail for a closer look and lifted his goggles up onto his forehead.

  Two legs were sticking out of a snowdrift. They didn’t look like any legs he’d ever seen. They were covered in some sort of black metal, and large swaths of the metal had been broken or burned away, revealing seared flesh beneath.

  He reached down with his gloved hands and dug out some of the snow. The figure appeared to be massive. He tried to move it by shaking it, but he wasn’t strong enough. He continued digging until he found a young man’s face, which was burnt and blue from the cold.

  “Hey, bud, you okay? Bud, can you hear me? Hello?”

  The metal covering the man hissed, and Daniel jumped back. The casing opened, and the man inside flopped out onto the snow, either unconscious or dead.

  The trek back to camp took about fifteen minutes. Daniel retrieved two men and a stretcher, along with the camp doctor. McKinley was North America’s stop on the Seven Summits Tour, the world climbing event where mountaineers ascended the highest peak on each continent. The base camp was a full day’s journey to the road below, so in case of a medical emergency, a chopper would have to be called. But the storms were raging, whipping snow and frost around the mountain, and taking anything that wasn’t nailed down with it. The chopper couldn’t risk a flight.

  “What the hell is that thing?” the camp doctor, a woman named Natalie, asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s what he was inside of, and then it opened up, and he dropped out.”

  Natalie ran her hand along the suit. “Let’s get him back to camp.”

  They carried the stretcher back and set the man up in the medical tent. He was dehydrated, so the first thing Natalie did was give him an IV of fluids. Daniel watched as she checked his wounds.

  Purple-black bruises covered his ribs, and Daniel was worried the man might have internal bleeding. Natalie searched for head wounds but only found some burns along one side of his face. In fact, burns were all over his body.

  “Infection’s the greatest risk,” she said.

  She cleaned the burns with Betadine and bandaged them then gave him another IV of isotonic saline solution. After wrapping him in a sleeping bag and turning on the portable heater, she went back to her laptop, leaving the man to sleep.

  “Thanks for doing that, Danny.”

  “Hey, I’d want someone to do it for me. Let me know if you need anything. Or if he dies.”

  17

  Tyler rode the elevator to the top floor of his building. He searched for Atlantis but didn’t find her. One of the secretaries told him she was probably on the roof, so he headed up the stairs.

  He had offered her his home, one of the most luxurious in Bel Air, but she had declined, informing him that she didn’t require sleep. Instead, she wanted to read history online in his office.

  He knew she’d heard a lot while in her catatonic state. The march of centuries, she called it. But she hadn’t heard everything. She didn’t know what a cell phone was and thought that the television was the greatest invention ever. She liked rock music, of all things, saying that it was barbaric in an intellectual way, so Tyler had given her an iPod loaded with rock and hip hop music.

  He stepped out onto the roof and spotted her sitting cross-legged at the edge of the building, earbuds in her ears. He walked over and sat next to her.

  “We’ve found one,” he said.

  “Which?”

  “Miami.” He pulled up a US map on his phone and pointed out Florida. “Here.”

  “That was a garrison. I have an entire legion there. Two thousand warriors.”

  “With suits?”

  “No. There are but a hundred armors left. The rest were destroyed during the Great War.”

  “What caused the war?”

  “There were some that felt I had ruled for too long. They wished to overthrow me, and war was declared. Unlike your wars, that one was fought everywhere. When it was finally over, I had defeated the rebels, but there was nothing left to rule. All my cities had been destroyed, and there were not enough of my people to repopulate the earth.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I buried my remaining soldiers and retreated to my chamber. The fluid you gave me, we called it M’shu Cara. It means ‘one who falls from the sky.’ If ingested, it prolongs your life indefinitely, giving you great power. In small doses. In large doses, you become… a monster.”

  “Is that what happened? You all became monsters and killed each other?”

  “Yes. But the Cara only reflects what is already there.”

  “When we dig and find your soldiers, what should we do with them?”

  “I will be there. They need to see that their queen lives. And I shall wake them.” She looked at him. “But there is something else.”

  “What?”

  “The young one in the armor lives. I have felt him.”

  “I saw him turn into a fireball. There’s no possibility he survived that.”

  “And yet he did. You must destroy him. He has power he does not yet recognize. I see him among cold and ice. He is weak but alive.”

  “It’ll be done.”

  18

  Dillon saw the slaughter of millions. The entire planet seemed to be on fire, the sky black with smoke. And death was everywhere. Mothers huddled over children were turned to ashes, buildings collapsed to rubble, and cities were wiped out in an instant. And the screaming was so loud, he thought his ears would bleed.

  He woke up and sucked in breath, feeling cold sweat sticking to his skin like glue. Every part of him hurt, and his head pounded. He raised his arm and felt the tug of an IV. He ripped out the needle.

  “You still need fluids.”

  He looked to his right and saw a woman sitting at a portable desk. He was lying in a tent. “Where am I?” He gasped, his ribs screaming in pain from the effort of speaking.

  “You’re at base camp in Mount McKinley. You seemed to have taken a rather nasty fall. Do you remember anything?”

  “A fall?”

  “Yes.” She came over and placed her hands on his neck then put a stethoscope on his chest. “Deep breath, please.” When he complied, she listened for a moment then asked, “Do you have any inclination to vomit?”

  “No.”

  “Any headache or loss of vision?”

  “Lady, do I look like a guy without a headache?”

  “Stupid question, I suppose. Would you like something for the pain?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She grinned and reinserted the IV. Once the needle was seated, she injected some medicine into the tube. “Demerol. This will take off the edge.”

  Almost instantly, Dillon felt lightheaded, and the fiery pain grew to a dull ache. “Oh, man. That’s the stuff.”

  “You don’t remember falling?”

  “No.”

  “You were in some sort of casing. Like a metal suit.”

  Dillon paused. “Where’s the suit?”

  “We couldn’t budge it. It was too heavy.”

  “It’s here? On the mountain?”

  “Yes. About a fifteen-minute hike from here.”

  He tried to sit up, but his muscles wouldn’t respond to his thoughts. He collapsed back onto the pillow, a sliver of pain coming up through the thick haze of the drug.

  “You need to rest. You’re not going anywhe
re. As soon as this storm clears, I’m having you life-flighted out of here.”

  He studied the woman’s face. “What’s your name?”

  “Natalie.”

  “I’m Dillon. I guess a thank you is in order.”

  “It was nothing. But I’m scared about infection with those burns.”

  An image flashed in Dillon’s mind: a red glow and the intense heat of pain, blinding red pain, as though he were flying into the sun. “You don’t happen to have a phone, do you?”

  “We have a satellite phone, but it’s out because of the storm.”

  Someone poked his head into the tent. “Doc, we got a broken ankle, I think. Kichi-something. One of the Japanese guys.”

  “Be right there.” She checked Dillon’s bandages and the IV before standing. “Stay warm and sleep. When you wake up, you can have some ice chips.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  She grinned then pulled on gloves and a coat and left the tent. When Dillon closed his eyes, the images of death and burning cities were fresh in his mind. And a woman with eyes like fire.

  19

  Tyler Edgar puffed on a cigar. Three men in suits, muscles bulging through the fabric, stood around the conference table. Their leader, Michael Cobin, was the shortest with a buzz cut and Ray-Ban sunglasses hanging from a tether around his neck.

  Tyler liked military men and their ability to follow orders even if it meant their own deaths, but the men before him weren’t military. They were mercenaries for sale to the highest bidder. Though they were probably better trained and certainly better equipped, something about them fomented distrust.

  Michael laid a map on the desk. Someone had put a black circle around Alaska. “We think he’s there.”

  “Alaska?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “Well, we got some reports from local law enforcement of a meteor shooting over Anchorage. There were no meteors last night. It’s got to be him. So he’s past there. But there weren’t any reports in Fairbanks. The likely place is Denali National Park. Really mountainous region. He could’ve taken shelter anywhere there.”

  “Can you find him?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll need more men. At least fifty, or else this is gonna take us a month.”

  “Fine. Get however many you need. Just find him and terminate him.”

  The men glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable.

  “What?” Tyler asked.

  “We can only terminate him if he’s a threat. If he surrenders, we have to take him in.”

  Tyler stared at them blankly for a moment then shook his head. “All the scumbag mercenaries in the world, and we got the only ones without balls.”

  “I didn’t say we wouldn’t terminate. I just said he’s got to be a threat.” Michael looked over at the other two. “Of course, certain arrangements can be made….”

  “Oh, there it is. That’s what I was waiting for. How much?”

  “Triple the fee,” Michael said.

  “I could hire two hundred other mercs from your rival company for that.”

  “You could. But they won’t get him. You want the best, you gotta pay for the best. A man like you knows that.”

  “I also know that if you pay for the best and they fail, it’s on the house.”

  “That’s agreeable.”

  “Good. And just out of morbid curiosity, find out who he is before you kill him.”

  “Ten-four.”

  They saluted, and Tyler rolled his eyes as they walked out of the conference room. Atlantis had gone somewhere, insisting on flying herself rather than taking a plane. She had lain still for six thousand years. He couldn’t imagine the claustrophobic isolation she must’ve felt. But the power that ran through her was more than even he had imagined.

  The black fluid, Cara, gave her that power. And once she granted it, the Cara would give him that power, too. The substance—not really an apt term since it responded to stimuli and was probably conscious on some primitive level—didn’t bind with just anyone. Cara was selective in whom it chose. Tyler had attempted to make Cara bind with him the last time he had been to the city in Queen Maud Land, but it had just covered his skin like a lotion and easily washed off during his next shower.

  But Atlantis could command it to bind with him, and he would be immortal.

  20

  Atlantis dipped low enough to place her hand in the sea. She then rocketed upward, past the clouds, and twirled, the puffy whiteness swirling around her like a storm. She saw mountains, buildings, fields, and forests. Cities fascinated her. The structures and layouts had changed, but life among the buildings had not. They preyed on each other. A dark energy emanated from the people.

  She came upon a city of lights with buildings that towered to the sky. She glided down behind one of the structures and walked to the entrance. She looked inside as another person entered. Noisy machines took up every available space, and though it was still daylight, people were inebriated on fermented drink. The pungent odor of the alcohol made her stomach churn.

  She walked over to a young man seated on the curb.

  “You’re not wearing shoes,” he said.

  “I have no need for them.”

  “I like your dress.”

  “Where is this place?”

  “LVB.”

  “LVB?”

  “Yeah, Las Vegas Boulevard. You’ve never been here?”

  “No.”

  “Well,” he said, “it’s a good place to get drunk, bad place if you like to gamble.” He took a drink from a bottle stowed in a paper bag.

  “I can… smell the desperation. The vileness of it. People come here willingly?”

  “It’s not that bad. If you don’t gamble, it’s actually kind of fun.” He rose. “I’m Jacob. Why don’t you come back to the pool with me? All my buddies are there. We can get wasted.”

  “A pool?”

  “Yeah, a pool. It’s like a big bathtub you swim in. You sure you all right? Did you hit your head or something?” He gazed into her eyes, and his expression softened. “Look, ah, come on back. You’ll have fun.”

  When she agreed, he led her into a building with trees surrounding it. The air was stale, but the space was clean and well decorated with lights at every turn, but it had no windows. They crossed a small bridge and went through a door in the back. A rectangular body of water that she assumed was the “pool” he had referred to was set into the ground. Several people were swimming or lounging in it.

  She followed Jacob to where a group of young men were gathered by some chairs, drinking colorful drinks out of transparent cups. Atlantis could hear them speaking before she got near them.

  “Who is that?”

  “Holy shit. She’s fucking hot.”

  When she and Jacob approached, Jacob whispered to one of the men, “Get me two of ’em.”

  The man covertly slipped two white pills into Jacob’s hand.

  Jacob placed one of the pills in a red-colored drink and smiled as he turned around and handed it to her. “For you. You’ll like it.”

  Atlantis took a sip and grinned. “You wish to harm me with this?”

  “Harm you? No, it’s just a drink.”

  “Clever boy. I’ll kill you last, I think.”

  She grabbed the man to Jacob’s right, put one hand on his throat, and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Pulling up, she ripped his head from his body.

  A long silence fell before a girl screamed, then people panicked and ran.

  Atlantis grabbed Jacob’s two remaining friends before they could get away and slammed their heads together, cracking their skulls. Another man tried to run past her, and she clawed at his throat, ripping it out. He fell to the ground, a wet, gurgling mess.

  She looked up to see Jacob backing away with his hands raised. She smiled as she rushed him. He started to turn to flee, but she caught him easily. She reached underneath his ribcage and tore out his heart. His eyes went wide, and he gasped o
nce before dropping.

  She tossed the heart into the pool and shot into the sky.

  21

  By the third day, Dillon no longer needed the pain medication. He was able to stand, though he couldn’t put on a shirt without his skin stinging. He wanted to check out the camp, so he stepped out of the tent wearing only the thermal pants Natalie had loaned him.

  The air was so cold, the mucus in his nose froze instantly, and he folded his arms across his chest as he started shivering. Multi-colored tents randomly dotted the plateau like confetti on a white floor. Several people in thick parkas were out, and lines went up a nearby trail, presumably leading to the summit of Mount McKinley.

  “What are you doing?” Natalie asked, coming up behind him. “Get back in there this instant.”

  “Y-You w-worried all the other w-women in the camp are going to see my h-hot b-bod?” he asked though chattering teeth.

  “I’m not playing around, Dillon. Right now.”

  He turned and went inside the tent without protest. When he was lying back down on the cot, she came over and checked his bandages.

  “Storm’s completely cleared,” she said. “I’m having the chopper come. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

  “Really? I was kinda thinking we had a thing going. I would whine, and you would pump me full of drugs so I could be a space cadet for the rest of the night.”

  “Yes, well, as enjoyable as that was, I think it’s time you went to a real hospital. But I have to tell you, this has been a bit strange.”

  “What?”

  “Some of your burns have healed. I mean… some healing is expected, of course, but I’m talking about skin growing back. Skin, especially over a burn, doesn’t grow back that fast. And the bruising on your ribs is gone. When you got here, I was certain there had to be some fractures, but broken bones don’t heal that fast, either.”