With jets of water, he batted them away, but the strikes were coming too fast. He started walking backwards, hurling water from side to side. The barrier above him faltered and began to dissipate.
He ran for the safety of his castle. Tripping and falling to his knees as lightning exploded on the sand behind him. He staggered up and ran past the beach bar, its roof on fire and walls collapsing.
Along the sandy path, he sprinted until the ground became smooth rock. The rock path ended with colossal granite block doors. Logan threw himself against it and risked a look back towards the beach. The ocean barrier had divided and was falling back to earth.
The right hand castle door swung open and he staggered inside. Breathing hard and blinking away sand, Logan leant against a granite wall, cheek resting on its cool surface.
He turned and surveyed the bright white entrance hall. Heavy wooden doors to either side opened into libraries. To the left was a collection of his entire life and family history. There were stories, images and movies of parents, Cate, the boys, friends and enemies. To the right, his knowledge of the world, books on science, math and engineering.
An impact smacked against the granite doors. They bulged inward then flexed back into position.
Logan ran for the white staircase, spiraling up to his defensive towers. Glass shattered from windows above, raining down spiky shards towards him. They shattered on the stone floor, sending out shrapnel splinters. Logan threw himself to the side and rolled into a ball. Flinching and scrambling away from the projectiles.
At the foot of the stairs there was a new opening in the granite wall. It glowed with a faint light. He darted towards it and hopped down a black marble staircase. Taking the steps two at a time until he reached the smooth grey floor of an arched passageway. It was a semi-circular channel, carved into the rock with a single black door at the end.
The sounds of breaking glass ceased as he crept along the corridor. Replaced by a gentle hum behind the door, drawing him forwards like a magnet.
Logan gripped the door handle and a current ran up his arm, ticking his neck. He pushed it open and scanned the room. Grey stone floor, rough chiseled walls and low black ceiling. In the centre, a steel column supported a black reclining chair.
Logan jerked back out of the room. It was an alien construct. He turned to run for stairs but collided with a solid wall of stone. It appeared instantly to block the passage. The wall pushed back, forcing him into the room. Logan smashed a fist against it as he stumbled backwards.
His other self appeared like a mirage, misting out of nowhere to stand in front of him. The being reached out, grabbing his arm. Logan tried to draw back but their hands were fused together. The rocksalt figure fell and spun away into the corner.
Haarp lifted him like a piece of paper, legs kicking and free arm flailing, until he was dumped onto the chair. Black leather straps flew around his arms, legs and neck, holding him in position.
Logan thrashed his arms and legs against the bonds. Every time he moved, the straps pulled tighter until he was held rigid. He could only gape at the ceiling, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. The chair rotated and he rose to a sitting position.
Haarp stared at him. It had his body, his face, but there was no humanity. Logan pulled again at his bonds with all his strength but he was trapped.
Its mouth opened wide and made a discordant screeching noise. It grew louder and louder. Its eyes grew brighter and brighter. Trapped in his own mind, Logan began to scream. He closed his eyes and fought against the restraints, his jaw locked open.
The noise suddenly stopped and Logan sagged in the restraints. He could still hear the screeching as an echo and see the light burning in his eyes. He blinked and focused on the room.
A man stood facing Haarp. Tall and lean in a black suit with black open neck shirt. Dark skinned with slicked back hair and a stubbly jaw. He glanced at Logan and bowed.
Haarp’s left arm shot out but the man caught it with his right. His left hand plunged into Haarp’s chest. Its body shimmered and in a flash of light it was gone.
The stranger turned towards Logan and lifted a hand. The restraining straps disappeared and Logan scrambled from the chair. He backed away from the man, flicking his eyes around the room to find an escape.
“I’m here to help you.”
The voice was rich and deep, each word like carved mahogany. Logan forced his eyes to meet the strangers, but before he could ask a question, the man spoke again.
“My name is Kadigan.”
The end
About the Author
Marcus Wearmouth is a former army engineer, specializing in surface to air missile systems. He has a degree in Engineering and serves on the board of two private consultancies. He is the co-author of the best selling First Activation and Second Activation. His new novel, Eximus, takes the world again into apocalypse where nothing can be trusted, even your own thoughts.
A self confessed sci-fi junkie and epic fantasy nerd who constantly dreams of other worlds. In this world, he lives in Harrogate with his fiancée, children and dogs.
www.marcuswearmouth.com
[email protected]
Eximus Page 32
