The ladder bent but didn’t break. He took another step and then another. Almost across, he felt the creaking in the metal and froze. Glancing down, he wondered if the crevasse fell all the way to the center of the earth, because he couldn’t see anything.
Slowly, he lifted his leg, moved it over the last two rungs, and placed it on the icy surface of the trail. When he shifted his weight, the ladder groaned and began to give. He jumped, stretching out with both arms, his fingers digging into the snow and ice as he slid backward into the crevasse.
Holding on with one hand, he looked down again and watched the ladder get swallowed by darkness. He didn’t hear it hit the bottom. Swinging up his other arm, he gripped the ice, but it wasn’t enough to give him leverage to pull his body to safety. Static, he held himself there, panting, each breath more difficult than the last. His lungs felt as if they were going to explode from the subzero air.
Let go.
The thought sent a shiver up his back.
He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t anybody’s champion. He was a kid who had grown up on the streets, bouncing from foster home to foster home and orphanage to orphanage. Already, he had lived longer than he had ever dreamed he would as a kid.
James had made sure of that. And for his efforts, he had been killed.
Maybe the blackness was where he belonged. His hands slipped, and he didn’t fight it.
He closed his eyes, imagining the shattering pop of hitting the ice hundreds of feet below and then the quiet nothingness afterward.
But another image came to mind—Jaime’s smiling face. She kissed him and smiled as she buttoned his shirt. He saw her so clearly that the image seemed to have been painted on the inside of his eyelids.
Jaime.
They were in a room somewhere. Sunlight cascaded through windows. Behind them was… a crib, where Dillon saw the smooth chubby face of a boy lying on his back. Dillon turned to the boy and kissed his cheek.
My son. My son….
He reached up, planting his hand on the ice to pull himself up.
26
The room was a dull gray, but its windows looked out over Los Angeles. The federal courthouse was across the street, and next to that were offices for various state prosecution agencies. People hustled in and out: lawyers with briefcases, law enforcement officers with badges and guns, members of the public in their best Sunday dress.
Tyler watched it all from the gray room until two men opened the door behind him. They sat down at the table. They looked alike in their dark suits and crew cuts.
“Please join us, Mr. Edgar,” Agent One said.
Tyler turned and pulled out the chair. He sat quietly and waited for them to speak.
Agent Two slid some color photos across the desk. “Who is she?”
The pictures were of him standing nearby while Atlantis tore apart a city block in Beverly Hills. “I think the more appropriate question is, what is she?”
Agent One leaned forward. “How did she take out a hundred National Guardsmen? What was the weapon she was using?”
Tyler shook his head. “She didn’t have a weapon. She is the weapon. And you’ve made a horrible mistake.”
“Really? And what is that?” Agent Two asked.
“She’s coming for me. In fact, she’s almost here.”
“Why would she come for you?”
“She needs me. At least for now.”
Before the men could speak again, a loud crash echoed from the street below. They looked at each other before Agent One got up and went to the window.
“What is it?” Agent Two asked.
Agent One pulled out his sidearm. “You better come with me.”
They both ran out the door, shutting and locking it behind them. Tyler heard dozens of footfalls down the hall. He rose and went to the window.
On the street, Atlantis’s soldiers had formed a line, like bouncers trying to keep someone out of their club. Police ducked behind cruisers as agents swarmed out of the building. He could hear more sirens farther away, probably the SWAT teams.
Within a minute, a man in a business suit arrived with an air of authority. He went to the front of the officers as more police cruisers poured into the city block.
The man with the suit took a megaphone and shouted, “Surrender now, and no harm will come to you.”
One of Atlantis’s soldiers dashed forward in a blur of motion. He ran up a cruiser, took off the suited man’s head with one blow, and was back with his brothers before anyone could react.
“Open fire!” one of the officers yelled.
Bullets pinged off streetlamps, cars, the sides of buildings… everything but the soldiers. The rounds weren’t even coming close. They were bending away from them.
Another soldier sprinted into a cruiser shoulder-first, sending it flying into the air. Two other soldiers bounded over it and, using their knees and elbows, crushed several policemen. Tyler saw one of them grab an officer and fling him by his legs so hard into a cruiser that the car turned onto its side.
The soldiers were quick and had the ruthless efficiency that came with killing so often that it was routine. They ripped out hearts, tore away limbs, and gouged out throats, silencing the screams.
People on the street soon realized there wasn’t going to be a showdown between police and a band of outlaws. It was going to be a slaughter. The civilians screamed and ran. Atlantis’s soldiers mostly ignored them. One woman did try to cross the street, and a soldier swiped at her, sending her flying through the window of an office building. SWAT vans pulled up, the military no doubt close behind.
Tyler smiled when Atlantis slowly drifted into the street.
27
Dillon raised his other hand and gripped the ice. Using both hands, he pulled himself up onto the ledge with a groan and rolled over onto his back. He had a fever and felt the numbness of frostbite over his face and torso. He would be dead soon.
Slowly climbing to his feet, he stumbled up the trail, holding his arms up against the fierce wind that seemed to take bits of skin with it. The trail became steep, and he had to crawl on his hands and knees. But as he turned a corner, the moonlight lit the mountain brilliantly, and he knew he was near the summit.
He hadn’t planned on the thin oxygen of the higher altitude. But the mountain was only eleven thousand feet or so, not high enough to make him pass out but enough to make him miserable. His head pounding, he continued along the summit until he found the opening.
No larger than a manhole, it led straight down into the dark. The dark. How was he going to see when he was down there? Then he realized that it didn’t matter. He had nowhere else to go.
Without gear, he would have to take the fifty-foot fall. He crawled in feet first and hung on to the ledge.
Jaime, if I don’t make it, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the life that should have been ours but wasn’t.
He let go.
Pulling at every fiber of muscle, his tendons crackling, he shot out a final burst of energy. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it did slow him down just enough that he wouldn’t be killed by the fall.
He slammed into the ice. He screamed, his voice echoing in the chamber. He was pretty certain he’d broken his shoulder.
Then he noticed the warmth. He had forgotten the place was warm. He lay still for a moment, savoring the heat. Thoughts of Jaime got him moving again.
He struggled to get to his feet, his arm limp by his side. The path out of the chamber was clear. As long as he followed the wall, he would be fine. He hobbled into the darkness.
28
Atlantis stood over the carnage as her soldiers decimated the SWAT teams. But they were child’s play. She was waiting for the military. And they didn’t disappoint.
Several jet fighters flew past overhead. Humvees and jeeps dumped soldiers into the surrounding streets. That was what she wanted—to show them that their best wasn’t good enough.
The jets made another pass. She vaulted into the air. One of th
e pilots panicked and twisted his jet away.
Another fired. The missile detached from the vessel and sped toward her. She swiped it with her hand as if knocking away an insect. The device fell to the city below, destroying a building.
Propelling herself forward, she extended her fists, aiming for the jet that had fired. It banked right, and she mimicked the move.
She smashed a wing with one fist, sending the jet into a tailspin. The aircraft plummeted to the streets below. Feeling the burning energy building inside her, she released it. A beam of crimson fire tore another jet in half.
Several more of the vessels flew toward her, and she grinned, waiting patiently for their arrival.
29
Dillon felt a draft against his skin. He was actually surprised he could feel anything. His arms, legs, toes, and fingers were mostly numb. His face and torso were completely dead. The only place he still had feeling was in his thighs since the suit hadn’t been damaged there.
An airy warmth hit him, and he felt the draft stronger than before. He had made it to the bridge. Planting his feet firmly, or at least as firmly as he could without being able to feel them, he shuffled, taking one small step at a time. He felt the incline of the bridge toward the middle and then the descent onto the other side. He breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped back onto solid ground. Walking away from the precipice, he saw the outline of the city before him.
No strength was left in him. If he sat down to rest, he knew he wouldn’t be getting back up, so he kept walking.
Finally, he came to the tower, a spiral of smooth ice with symbols engraved across it. Dillon stood in front of it as he had more than a year ago. He closed his eyes and walked into it.
Passing through the exterior as though it weren’t there, he found himself on the bottom floor with stairs leading to the top. In the ground was an opening he didn’t remember being there last time.
He climbed down and found a well-lit chamber, though he didn’t know where the light came from. Onyx suits, both black and brown, sat frozen in the ice-like transparent material.
30
Atlantis destroyed the fighter jets and came back to the city streets where her soldiers were still killing with impunity. They were so fast that they seemed to disappear and reappear somewhere else. Fists and knees crushed steel and bone.
Tanks were heading down the street. She flew over and stood in front of the first one. The tank stopped, holding up the line behind it. She could sense the debate as the men inside discussed what to do. And then the decision was made.
The boom echoed off the buildings as a bulky piece of steel was hurled at her. She caught it between her palms and flung it back at the lead tank. The explosion ripped into its hull, setting fire to the occupants inside.
She crouched and sprang. Ramming into the first tank, she sent it flying then did the same to the second and the third. The tanks lay on their backs like helpless turtles. She sprinted through them as though running through a field of wheat, bending and breaking the massive machines.
At the last one, she paused. A man came out from the top with his hands up.
“I give up!” he shouted. “You win. I give up.”
She smiled. Grabbing the tank from the bottom, her fingers digging into the steel, she flung it into the sky. The machine twirled in the air, and the man fell out and smacked against the cement.
Turning back, she saw her army dealing with the last of the resistance.
31
Dillon touched the ice. The last time he had been there, the coating had slid into the ground and allowed him to retrieve the suit. But it did nothing.
He hit it with his fist, yelled at it, and went around the chamber, pounding on all of them. He hobbled from room to room, but none of them would open. Resting his head against one, he felt the last bit of strength leave him. He knew he would not survive. So he went to the wall and sat down, waiting for the moment to come when he would close his eyes and not open them again.
From his lower vantage point, he spotted small puddles of black fluid beneath the suits. One puddle crawled out of its space and made its way across the floor to him. He pushed against the wall, unable to move, bracing himself for what was coming. The fluid came within inches of him then bubbled and shifted before extending up about six feet. It smoothed and cascaded over itself, and a figure appeared.
An exact replica of Dillon stood where the black fluid had been. The doppelganger looked down at him, a curious expression on its face.
“You are the one who came before.” Its voice echoed but had a calmness to it that was almost soothing.
“What are you?”
“We are beyond your comprehension at this time.”
“Where did you come from?”
“We came here for your race.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The galaxy that you believe lifeless is filled with civilizations. These civilizations have banded together and waited for you to grow and learn, to join us when you were ready.”
“You’re watching us?” he asked.
“That is correct.”
“But you touched me last time. You made me see things.”
“What you saw was the destruction of this civilization.”
“You destroyed them. I saw the suits. I saw you clinging to them, creating monsters.”
“We are a reflection of what is already there. This civilization used us for nothing but war.”
Dillon thought for a moment. “You’re a test.”
“That is correct. We gave ourselves to you and had the ability to teach you to sail the stars. Instead, you used us only for war. You are not ready to join us.”
“That woman, the woman who did this to me, who is she?”
“She was the ruler of this civilization and, consequently, the ruler of earth. She conquered all she came across and, in the process, destroyed everything she had built. She has waited here for a time when she may rise and rule again. She has absorbed our power.”
“That’s all this is about? She wants power?”
“Your species has an affinity for power and will generally kill or die for it.”
“Why did you let her do it?”
“It is not our place to hold judgment. We provided the tools to see how you would use them. You used them poorly.”
“She wants to destroy the earth. It’ll happen all over again.”
“Yes.”
“You have to help me stop her.”
“You cannot stop her. She has absorbed our power.”
Dillon was growing faint. “Then let me absorb your power.”
“We are a reflection of what is there. If what is there is aggression, you will aid rather than impede her.”
“I have to try. Please. Our species has faults, but we have a good side, too. I have to stop her.”
The figure was silent for a long time, and Dillon got the distinct impression it was communicating with something else. “We will join with you.”
His doppelganger disintegrated into a puddle. The pools of fluid beneath the suits oozed out and crawled to him. His eyes went wide as the black enveloped his feet then his legs and moved up his torso. The stuff covered his chest, arms, and neck. He screamed just before it flooded into his mouth and eyes.
31
Tyler paced the room for a few minutes then went back to the window. Fires raged across the entire city. Once the soldiers were done with the police and the National Guard, and Atlantis had taken out the best the Air Force had to offer, they moved on to the rest of the city.
The wall in front of him groaned and crumbled to dust, revealing the street below. The wind hit his face, and Atlantis hovered before him, as much terror as splendor.
“Your soldiers are destroying the city,” he said.
“So they are.”
“We shouldn’t destroy them. We want them to surrender. What’s the point of ruling over dust?”
“I will rule how I see fit, servant. And I wou
ld expect more gratitude.”
He nodded quickly. “Of course. I’m very grateful. But this is pointless. These people are ants to your men. You should crush the military. The United States military is the greatest that has ever existed. If we can destroy it, all other nations will fall in line.”
“The second greatest military that has ever existed. And what is the status of the rest of my army?”
“I have crews working around the clock. We’ll have all the sites you gave us excavated within the month.” He glanced down at the overturned cars and the smashed buildings. “And what will you do when you have your army?”
“We will crush this society and use it as manure to grow the beauty of Atlantis.”
Tyler locked eyes with her. That wasn’t what he had anticipated. That wasn’t what his grandfather had written about. She was to be the savior, the one who would end corruption and politics and gather the world together under one regime. She was supposed to establish a society where those with merit would rise to the top, while the weak and infirm would exist on scraps. She would establish order over the chaos… with him at her side.
Instead, she would repeat the same mistakes of six thousand years ago.
“Yes, Queen,” he said meekly. “Whatever you command.”
She nodded and held out her hand. He took it, and Atlantis glided him gently down to the sidewalk.
“Burn this city and kill every man, woman, and child.” She drifted upward.
Black Onyx Reloaded - A Superhero Thriller (The Black Onyx Chronicles Book 2) Page 7
