by C. E. Martin
Jason started to laugh, but the Colonel's face was as grim as before. He clearly wasn't joking. "There's no such thing."
"They've cloned sheep," Laura said. "And I hear the Japanese are working on cloning a wooly mammoth."
Jason looked back and forth between his three visitors, waiting for the punch line. "My dad was almost forty. They couldn't clone people back then."
"Really?" Kenslir asked.
"Jason, it's true, " Josie said. "I know it's a lot to believe, but it is true."
"A lot to believe? It's crazy!" Jason said, his voice rising. "Next you're going to tell me little green men gave us the cloning technology!"
"Not quite," Kenslir said.
"Jason," Josie said quietly. "Your father was a clone.... just like mine."
Jason looked over at Josie, surprised. "What?"
"My clone- in a manner of speaking," Kenslir said. "It's older technology than you think."
Jason had to stand up. He noticed Laura shift her weight, as though she were about to do something. "So he's one of you!"
"No. But we need your help stopping him," Kenslir said. "You have the same abilities he does, it would appear."
Josie held out her hand. "Please."
Jason looked back and forth again at the trio.
"I need to study your abilities," Kenslir said. "Find out exactly how they work."
"You want me to be a guinea pig?"
Kenslir was about to speak, but his cell phone rang. He answered it immediately. "Kenslir."
The Colonel listened intently for a few minutes. "Prepare to move out immediately," he finally said, then ended the call.
Kenslir stood, his face impossibly more grim than before. "This will have to wait."
"What is it?" Josie asked. Even Laura seemed alarmed at the change in the Colonel's posture.
"He's hit Washington."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The team was in the air again- on board the large MC-135 Josie had first flown on just a few months ago when she had left Arizona for the first time.
The stone soldiers and their leader were all in gray and black combat fatigues and assault vests, packed with gear and weapons, and huddled around a briefing table with Colonel Kenslir. Jimmy stood to the side, wearing an Air Force flightsuit and his tactical visor, listening intently to the briefing the Colonel was giving. Agent Keegan and Dr. Olson stood with Josie on the opposite side of the table.
The meeting was taking place in a conference room and command center onboard the aircraft, located just behind the main passenger compartment. It was equipped with monitors and fold out workstations, all displaying live feeds from various agencies and departments of government.
"So what did he want at the monument?" Jimmy was asking. Even though he was once again flesh and blood- a scrawny nineteen year old dwarfed by the stone soldiers and the Colonel- he had kept his mind on the mission.
"The Washington Monument is more than a tower of marble and stone," Kenslir explained. "It's the focus for an energy-gathering network built into the very heart of Washington."
"What kind of energy?" Dr. Olson asked, worried.
"Etheric energy- drawn from the people within the city."
"To what end?" Victor asked.
"That's a topic of debate in the research circles," Kenslir said. "No one really knows who was behind it, but the monument and many of the structures in Washington seem to form some kind of focus that draws energy and concentrates it. The speculation has been that some secret society engineered the construction, but then vanished before they could use it."
"When you say it draws energy," Josie asked. "What do you mean? From where?"
Colonel Phillips now looked up from the report he had been reading. "The people. It's like a great leech, siphoning off the smallest amounts of energy from the people coming and going."
"How's that even possible?" Keegan asked. "How do you build something like that and no one notices?"
"The Masons," Jimmy said. He'd read a lot off theories about the monument and Washington's design on the internet.
"No, the Masons didn't plan this," Kenslir said. "In fact, some theorize the Masonic symbolism was put in place to hide the true nature of the whole project."
Josie shook her head- she was more concerned about what the monument did now than who built it. "So it leeches energy from people? How does no one notice that?"
"It's a slow process," Kenslir said. "And it's more of a static charge... imagine a nail and a magnet. If you pass a nail through a magnetic field, electrical current is created in the nail."
"Electromagnetism," Victor said.
Kenslir nodded. "It's the basis for pretty much all modern technology. The monument and its attached structures work the same way- living beings moving in and around Washington generate etheric energy that is somehow drawn into the monument. It's a gradual process but overtime it undoubtedly builds up."
"And there's no way to stop it?" Josie asked.
"So far, it's seemed harmless. When the phenomenon was first discovered in the early 1900s, no one could figure how to tap it," Phillips answered. "Meaning no one else could either."
"We're getting off track, here," Kenslir said. "The point is, it's the strongest singular source of energy in the country, and this clone of Clint Kerrick has tapped into it. Making him even more powerful than he was in Georgia."
"How do we stop him?" Jimmy asked.
"First we need to find him- so far satellites haven't been able to locate him."
"Could he still be in Washington?" Laura asked.
"I don't think so," Kenslir said, turning his attention back to the maps layed out over the table. "He obviously wanted all that power for something. If his target was the capital, he'd have already struck."
"So what now?" Josie asked. "Where do we go?"
"We're headed for D.C.," Kenslir said. "We'll stay airborne- all military units in the country are on alert. Once Kerrick is located, we'll move to intercept."
"You mean to kill him?" Laura said, smiling.
"Or orders are to stop him- by any means necessary."
***
The raw power he'd taken from the monument was enough to perform miracles. But Clint Kerrick was only one man. In his former body he'd accumulated energy like this over time, and had been undefeatable. But he couldn’t be everywhere at once. To bring America to its knees, he would need help.
For years he had calculated and planned- even before his death. He had envisioned many plans for toppling the government and leaving the country ripe for the taking. Nuclear weapons. Biological weapons. Plagues. Each had advantages and disadvantages, but they all worked toward a similar goal- forcing the population into doing something they didn't want to do. Surrender.
But there were no assurances America would surrender when faced with overwhelming force. The Japanese had determined that in World War Two. If faced with a foe, no matter how powerful, Americans clung to a belief they could fight back.
The only real way to beat America was to make them want to surrender. That meant making them love him, or fear him. And after so many years as a disembodied spirit, Clint Kerrick had decided fear would be most effective.
The humans would expect him to go after his ten remaining clones- his original army for defeating America. But they were just flesh and blood. Defeatable- as Clint had so painfully learned himself in the arctic circle. No, to instill sheer terror he needed an unstoppable army. And army that could not be killed- because they were already dead.
It hadn't taken long to fly from Washington to his ultimate goal. He arrived late in the afternoon and touched down on the wide open fields and immaculately cut lawns of the park.
Even in the daylight, he could see his new army. Like in Georgia, most were deep in the ground, or existing as formless entities in the bright sun. Unlike Georgia, there were not just a few hundred.
The Battle of Antietam was the bloodiest battle in the American Civil War. Over twenty-two thousand
men had died in the fighting. Even with less than one in one hundred failing to pass on after death, he still had over a thousand souls that had chosen to linger on earth. A thousand angry spirits that died with hatred in their hearts, and a thirst for blood.
They would follow him against the living. Across this modern landscape they would march. A mighty fighting force that could not be stopped. They would march southeast, destroying everything in their path. Then they would destroy the nation's capital- and it would all be televised to the world.
Kerrick didn't need to tell the hundreds of souls barely clinging to existence any of this. The dead did not communicate with one another with words. They felt what he felt, simply because he willed it. They began to come to him- drawing the energy barely contained within his clone body.
Despite the powerful sun shining down on them, they began to manifest. First as shimmering ripples in the air, then as faint outlines and finally appearing as solid as any man of flesh and blood.
Just over a thousand specters formed around Kerrick- and not all in the gray uniforms of the confederacy. Those who had died for the North were angry too. In death they realized the futility of the War between the States. They no longer cared for causes or morals. They only seethed with rage that their lives had been cut short by men who had lived in comfort long after the war had ended.
For the living visiting the National Park at Antietam, the scene was a nightmare. Soldiers appeared out of thin air and formed into ranks. They saw weapons materialize in the hands of the shimmering soldiers. They watched as friends and families were cut down by sabers and spectral bullets.
Many escaped simply by fleeing in the right direction. The army of the dead were not interested in anyone except those that stood between them and their goal. Marching silently, they began their long trek toward Washington.
Clint Kerrick flew above his new army, just dozens of feet off the ground, drifting lazily in the air. He had used most of the energy he had drawn to manifest the dead, but there was still plenty for him. Guiding the resurrected soldiers, he steered them east.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They were all over the news now. A massive army of what appeared to be Civil War re-enactors, marching slowly east, away from Antietam. The army had progressed steadily, slowing for nothing. Fences, walls, even roads with traffic had parted before them. What they did not trample beneath their boots they seemed to pass through, wraithlike.
Emergency Responders had been the first to arrive at the Antietam National Battlefield- finding dead and injured everywhere. Survivors were seemingly insane, reporting the strange army had formed from thin air, then hacked, slashed and stabbed their way through the park before disappearing to the east.
The army hadn't taken long to find. Once out of the National Park, they had marched due east until they reached a major road. They then turned northeast, marching boldly along the road toward a town called Keedysville.
Oncoming traffic had been stumped by the soldiers marching side by side, shoulder to shoulder, up the road, taking up both lanes. The first few cars had even stopped, their drivers exiting to see what was going on. Volleys of spectral shot had torn the drivers to shreds, prompting those in their cars behind them to turn around and flee.
Traffic behind the formation had similarly been confused- several vehicles coming right up on the marching formation and honking horns loudly. When the army continued on, ignoring them, drivers had cursed and sworn then turned around and headed back.
The first police car to arrive also approached the formation from the rear. Officer David Gent had radioed in, asking if some kind of reenactment had been scheduled he wasn't familiar with. When dispatch had been as stumped as him, the Officer rolled right up behind the marching men, sounding his siren to get them to part for him.
Seeing that was ineffective, the Officer stopped his car, the lights still flashing, and jogged up on foot behind the marching formation.
"Hey, buddy," " Gent said, reaching out to pat a soldier on the shoulder.
Gent was surprised when his hand passed through the shoulder.
The Confederate whirled at the touch, revealing a face that seemed almost translucent. Gent couldn't see more as the soldier thrust forward with his rifle, stabbing Gent with a large bayonet, right through the stomach.
The officer gagged and dropped to his knees, the bayonet, now wraithlike, passing harmlessly up and out of him. He clawed feebly at his pistol as blood poured down his pants. The ghost that had stabbed him then turned away, fading and breaking apart like smoke. The wisps of gray swept back to the formation quickly, then reformed into a soldier- marching in step with his comrades once more.
Officer Gent fell to the pavement, trying to reach for his radio before he blacked out.
***
Onboard the Detachment's jet, anxiety filled the air. The huge aircraft had suddenly diverted course, swinging northwest, away from their goal of Washington.
"It makes sense," Victor said, "Antietam was the bloodiest battle of the Civil War. Thousands died in one day."
"Thousands?" Josie asked. She could feel a cold chill creep up her back.
"We don’t need to worry about the ghosts," Colonel Kenslir snapped, looking around at his team. "They'll eventually run out of energy and fade away. We need to take out their leader- the source of their power."
"Take out an indestructible, flying man who can move from body to body?" Laura said sarcastically. "Sounds easy."
"She's got a point, boss," Captain Smith said. "Even with four of us and you, all we did was succeed in driving him away."
"Leave Kerrick to me," Kenslir said. "I've stopped him before- I'm sure I can do it again."
"What about the ghosts?" Pam Keegan asked, looking up from a report she'd been reading. "They slaughtered nearly a hundred people at the National Park. We can't just let them wander around 'til they run out of steam."
Kenslir looked around at his three remaining stone soldiers. "You men will directly assault his forces. That should tie them up and draw him out for me."
"What about us?" Josie asked, indicating herself, Jimmy and Laura.
"I'm going with them," Laura said. When everyone seemed surprised, she crossed her arms. "You're a man short- and I'm every bit as good as any man."
"Can you fight a ghost?" Victor asked, surprised.
"I'm an etherical being too," the Doctor said. "I can hold my own with them."
Kenslir nodded in agreement. "Fine. Josie- you, Jimmy and Pam will stay aboard and watch over our guest."
"Can we use the kid?" Smith asked. "He does have the same powers as Kerrick."
Kenslir frowned, clearly against the idea. "He's a kid- and he has no training or experience with his abilities. He'll be safer here in the air."
"Keep on your toes," Kenslir added. "If Kerrick touches you... you've seen what happens." He nodded to Jimmy.
"Maybe I can drain him- like I can the boy," Laura suggested.
"No." Kenslir looked around at the team with a stern, warning look. "This is an opponent you cannot defeat. He can see and hear with his mind. He can move faster and is stronger than any mortal creature- and most immortal ones. He can heal any wound, nearly instantly, and he has a form of pyrokinesis that may be able to even burn you stone soldiers."
"How did you ever defeat him before?" Josie asked, worried.
"I have one advantage- Kerrick can't sense me with any of his extrasensory abilities. My own ability to cancel out etheric energy puts me on an even footing with him- provided I can get the drop on him."
"How do you plan to do that?" Phillips asked. "He'll be expecting us, won't he?"
Kenslir checked his watch. "We're about thirty minutes out from the drop zone. Everyone double check their gear. Olson- with me. Let's get you suited up."
Laura smiled and fell into step with the Colonel as he led her toward the rear of the plane.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The first helicopters to reach the ghost army belonge
d to local news stations that had intercepted the police and ambulance radio traffic at Antietam. The press had quickly theorized this was some kind of terrorist attack and sent their teams out in force.
They located the army as it was marching out of Keedysville.
The small town was on fire now. Bodies lay in the streets and in their cars, stabbed and shot by the spectral army that had moved through the center of town with unyielding force.
Military helicopters soon arrived- three Blackhawks carrying soldiers ready to deploy. They circled the marching army cautiously then fired warning shots. But the spectral army continued on, undaunted.
Door gunners in the Blackhawk helicopters opened fire next, raking the marching troops with streams of lead from mounted, multi-barreled, vulcan miniguns. But the streams of bullets passed harmlessly through the spirits, tearing up only topsoil and pavement.
Finally, one gunner spied the flying man, hovering just over the head of the long formation of marching forms. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the bearded, muscled man looked different from his ghostly army. He didn't shimmer or sparkle in the sunlight, and seemed somehow more solid. The gunner sighted his multi-barreled minigun and let loose a stream of lead.
Clint Kerrick frowned when the stream of bullets splattered against him like hard rain. He had been intent on keeping his forces moving ever eastward. Having them use their energy to move more swiftly would have been possible, but the slow march was more likely to instill terror in those who knew they were approaching. Especially after the massacre at Keedysville.
Kerrick now swept up into the air, leaving the marching formation behind. He closed with the first helicopter, smashing through the tail boom and removing it like a human missile. The helicopter began to spin wildly out of control without a tail rotor to counter the rotational force of the main rotor. The aircraft spiraled to the ground and exploded in a great fireball.
Kerrick now moved to the second helicopter- a blur of flesh and bone that smashed through another tailboom and sent the second Blackhawk also spiraling down to earth and its destruction.
