by Kyle Noe
The light was folded and compressed into one palm and then flung toward the ceiling of the room where it burst apart, birthing a bonfire bright light. Swimming in the field of light were images, figures, scenes of carnage, of battles that were, and were yet to be.
General Aames’s eyes nearly leapt from their sockets as he watched Syndicate soldiers and drones wading into battles on distant planets. This was not the army of an aggressor, however. He could instantly tell that by the way the army broke after being fired upon.
He witnessed things, biomechanical monstrosities, the creatures of nightmares, charging down through the Syndicate lines, laying waste to anything that fell before them. Syndicate soldiers fell by the tens of thousands, blasted down and torn apart until their blood and fluids sloshed at the knees of the attackers.
The images changed a final time, a flash-storm of imagery, figures pulsing like the gelatinous umbrella on a jelly fish, bombarding the General and Marin. There were scenes of Syndicate vessels being blasted apart in space, of whole cities obliterated by munitions that seemed to set the air on fire, of a vast bone-yard filled with the flesh-ragged skeletons of humans and animals, stacked to the heavens and stretching to the horizon.
“ENOUGH!” the General shouted, covering his eyes.
And then, as quickly as the images appeared, they vanished. Hadrian flanked the Potentate, peering down at General Aames and Marin who bore the shocked expressions of a couple who’d just emerged from a cave that had collapsed.
“You have seen a fraction of the truth,” the Potentate said, softly. “The shadows of the past and the future. That which has been, and that which might be.”
“I saw our armies defeated,” Marin replied.
“Indeed,” the Potentate offered in response. “Yet, the things that wait for us will have no mercy. They will give no quarter. They will sift us like wheat and suck dry every planet and lay waste to anything that is living. None of our kind or yours will be left alive.”
“Don’t we have enough to fight back now?” General Aames asked.
The Potentate’s head dipped. “I wish it were otherwise, but no. Our only hope lies in confronting those that escaped from us.”
“The Marines,” Marin said under her breath. “But they’re inconsequential. They need to be captured and executed to set an example for betrayal. And they have no real power.”
“If we can reach them, we may have a chance to avert catastrophe,” the Potentate replied. “Their power is not so obvious that you can see it at first glance.”
“I still don’t understand,” General Aames said. “Why the hell do we need them?”
“You have said that to me at least thirty-eight times.”
General Aames stood in silence and the Potentate moved toward him.
“I alone have the ability to sift and bend time,” the Potentate said. “We have been reliving the same events, over and over. Temporal fissures, loops.”
“Time travel?” the General whispered, in astonishment.
The Potentate nodded. “Things are changing. The enemy is evolving. It seeks to defeat all of us. In the past we would win the battles but lose the war, and still, I see a way to win the bigger war.”
“So we’ll work harder then, we’ll develop more powerful weapons and—”
The Potentate screamed loud enough to jar the fillings in the General’s mouth. The shriek was a meld of an animal being butchered and metal rubbing against metal. The Potentate raised his hands up as if offering a benediction.
“We’ve tried all of that! Don’t you understand! Can’t you see that we will cease to be unless we take a different tack?!”
“What do we have to do?” the General said, cowering.
“Our only hope lies in manipulating those that escaped from us. We’ve gathered intelligence, we’ve been here before. The Marines have a map and will use that to find the location of the ship that allows us to maintain our power.”
“I beg your forgiveness, Potentate,” General Aames said, “but I do not see the way forward.”
“But your other selves did. And they gladly sacrificed themselves to give you another chance to do better than them.”
Recognition finally gripped General Aames. He slowly realized that if what the Potentate said was true, he’d been here before. He’d stood in this very place and likely uttered the very same words and ultimately made the wrong decisions. Still, there were so many unanswered questions.
As if sensing General Aames’s unease, the Potentate turned to him and said, “I want you to know that our only hope lies in manipulating them that escaped from us. We’ve gathered intelligence, we’ve been here before. The Marines have a map and will use that to find a way to strike back against us. It will not be easy for them, I will make certain of it. Now go and make ready for what is to come.”
5
Family
The atmosphere of uneasiness that had permeated the silo ebbed by dusk. The Marines and the resistance, having seen no sign of the Syndicate, decided to barbecue topside in a hangar before readying for the next morning’s training and operations planning.
Hayden and Comerford were manning a long gas grill, while Milo and some of the resistance fighters heaped food on a pair of card tables to create a kind of crude buffet. Somebody had taken the outer casing from a missile and filled it with beer and water bottles, wedging down in a smattering of ice cubes, while Renner fiddled with his battle helmet, trying to download some satellite radio tunes. He found a station playing some old funk R&B songs and turned up the volume, grooving along to the music.
Milo made sure that everybody got heavy servings of what was left down in the silo’s freezer. Lots of veggie burgers and hot dogs, repurposed MREs and lots of canned sides. Somebody had found an old bag of applewood chips which were dunked in a bucket of water and added to the grill to improve the flavor of the food.
It was the very best they could come up with. Milo looked up to see Xan and Mira, still sporting their omnipresent sneers. He ladled some food onto Xan’s plastic plate as she snatched it away and continued down the line.
“The hell is her problem?”
“She hates your fucking guts,” Mira said.
“A blind man could see that,” Milo replied, plopping some grub on Mira’s plate. “Question is why?”
“Might have something to do with the invasion. Specifically, how many people you lost in those first few days,” said Mira.
“Nobody thankfully.”
“She lost everybody. Her mother, her father, three brothers and sisters. All of them were in Denver back when the aliens were still carpet bombing the populace.”
“Geezus. How the hell was I supposed to know?” Milo asked.
“Would it have made a difference?”
Milo’s gaze smoked into Mira’s. “You think we’re a bunch of cold-blooded killers?” Milo asked.
“No, I just think you don’t understand that this fight means different things to different people. Some people don’t want glory. They just want payback.”
And with that, Mira grabbed up her food and melted into the crowd.
Giovanni watched the exchange between Milo and Mira and strolled on by, inspecting everything like a maitre d’, ensuring that everyone was being cordial and having a good time. He looked sideways at Hayden who turned from the grill. The big man reached in the ice and grabbed a beer that he tossed to Giovanni before striding forward and throwing a hand around his shoulder.
“Brings back memories, don’t it? I mean, remember all the times we were given celebrations and parties much bigger than this for saving the world?”
Giovanni shook his head. “I don’t remember any of that, Gunny.”
Hayden frowned. “Really?”
Giovanni nodded. “Yeah, I mostly remember us getting by on shitty government pay and takeout while we risked our necks for people who mostly didn’t give two hoots in hell about us.”
Hayden took this in. “Shit, I guess that’s ho
w it was, huh?”
“You miss those days?” Giovanni asked.
Hayden thought about this and then smiled. “Only every day of my rotten little life.”
Giovanni raised his beer and clinked bottles with Hayden.
Down at the end of the card tables, Samantha was seated on a pallet, munching on a veggie burger (which resembled a hockey puck) recently thawed from the silo’s freezer, and some beans which were well beyond their expiration date. At her feet were her rucksack, a knife, and a small whetstone.
“That seat taken?” Eli asked, pointing at the other edge of the pallet.
She shook her head and he plopped down next to her. The two sat silently eating their veggie pucks and beans.
“How’s that burger?” Eli asked.
“Partially frozen,” Samantha answered.
“Them beans?”
“Mushy.”
“But given our current predicament…”
“They taste like the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life,” Samantha said, with a slight smile.
Eli laughed and looked across at a gaggle of children playing with bubbles, that a boy Samantha’s age was blowing at them.
“How come you ain’t with your peers?” Eli asked.
“Bubbles lost their importance right around the first time a robot tried to kill me.”
“I suppose they would,” Eli replied, nibbling on his burger. “You hear that there’s a mission in the works?”
Samantha nodded.
“You know the specifics?”
“Nope,” she said. “You?”
He shook his head. “I ain’t exactly getting up-to-date briefs if you know what I mean.”
Several seconds of silence lay between them. They both set their food down and Samantha commenced rubbing her knife across the whetstone while Eli pulled out a gnarly-looking cigarette from his shirt pocket.
“You mind if I fire one up?” he asked.
She stared at the cigarette. “Should you be smoking?”
Eli struck a match on the side of the pallet. “Should anybody?”
She didn’t object and so he touched the match to the smoke and silently took a long drag, his eyes closed, a serene expression on his face. For a moment he looked utterly at peace.
“Those things are gonna kill you,” Samantha muttered.
“If the Lord had wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now,” he replied, exhaling.
Samantha snorted. “You still believe in God?”
Eli ashed his smoke. “Got no reason to disbelieve.”
“Putting aside the issue of the world ending, how about a complete lack of evidence?”
“That don’t bother me at all, kiddo. I mean a God who’d let you prove his existence ain’t a God at all. That’s an idol,” Eli said, with a wink.
He tossed his smoke down and undid a loop of string that was tied to his wrist. He held it up and tied it around Samantha’s wrist. “I want you to have this.”
“Wow, Eli, I don’t know what to say. It’s … a piece of string,” Samantha said.
“It’s Buddhist.”
“The string?”
“Nah, the guy I got it from about six months back. A doctor. Fella broke down on the wrong side of town and I showed up in the nick of time towed him away. He gave me that in return.”
“What’s it mean?” Samantha asked.
“Well, the guy said it meant that no matter how bad things get in life, sometimes that’s all you need to survive. Something as insignificant as a piece of string.”
Samantha stared at the string and smiled, the two sitting quietly, watching the children rush past in a cloud of bubbles.
Quinn stood on the other side of the hangar, beer in hand, watching Samantha, Eli, and the others shoot the shit and mingle. For a moment it looked like any other time before the invasion. A summer block party back when she was a child in Ohio, a going away celebration for one of the Marines in her old unit.
Cody waved and moved over, standing alongside her. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“Just watching for the storm,” she replied.
He frowned. “What storm would that be?”
“The one that’s sure to come after all this calm.”
“Relax, Quinn. You deserve a break. I mean after that speech you gave back there to rally the troops? Not many people could do that. If I didn’t know you I’d ask for your autograph.”
“You’re probably not gonna want it after I tell you I can’t go tomorrow.”
Cody blanched, turning, trying to hide his shock from anyone that might be watching. “What? Why?”
“Because I was separated from Sam for four months, that’s why. I’m already way down the list for mother of the year, and I can’t let that separation happen again. You don’t know what it’s like. She’s the only thing I have in this world.”
Cody gripped Quinn’s shoulders.
“Do I need to explain to you how important this is?”
“Yes, I’d really love it if you’d mansplain the obvious to me. And be sure to use a really condescending tone while doing it.”
He turned his head, frustrated. “This isn’t a joke, Quinn. Jesus, you know we can’t do this without you.”
“The others are more than capable of carrying out the mission.”
Cody shook his head. “They admire you, Quinn.
“So get someone else to admire.”
“You can’t do this, Quinn,” he said. “I won’t let you.”
She glared at him. “You know what I like about you, Cody?”
“I’d like to think you thought I was super cool and had a really large penis, but I’m probably off the mark about that, huh?”
She held his look. “You weren’t like the other guys. I immediately sensed that you were … delicate.”
He sighed. “Just what every guy wants to hear a lady say about him.”
“Toughness doesn’t matter to me, Cody.”
“Not exactly helping your cause here,” he said.
“I used to be attracted to the super macho, muscle bound type. But not anymore.”
“Nope. Still not helping that cause.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders.
“There was an old song back in the day with the lyrics ‘swag don’t pay the bills.’ Do you understand what that means?” she asked.
“I literally don’t understand a word of what you just said.”
She leaned in close enough to kiss him. “I’ve had the dudes with swag, okay? Sam’s father was like that. I don’t need a cowboy on a horse or a knight in shining armor anymore. Turns out a shredded body doesn’t block incoming missiles much, but a brain might find a way out. So, a dorky, delicate guy in glasses will suffice. Especially one that respects me and, most importantly, doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“So you’re saying the only guy who deserves you is the one who thinks he doesn’t?”
She thought about this and smiled. “Exactly.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, I get you. Whatever you decide we’ll live with it.”
She smiled again and kissed him on the forehead.
“Since we’re quoting songs, can I just say that you are the right kind of sinner to release my inner fantasy, Quinn.”
She giggled and kissed him again, this time long and hard on the lips and it felt right. Then they turned and watched the others continue to drink and make merry, Quinn willing away the bad thoughts, hoping like hell that everything would work out.
That’s when Mackie flipped on his own music, classic rock. Smooth but upbeat.
Just then, Giovanni grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her up close to dance. “Come on, pretty lady. Let’s make them all jealous.”
Quinn smiled as Giovanni swung her around. He tried a couple of fancy moves and a spin. But it didn’t really fit the music.
“Let’s just rock it out,” Quinn said.
They made some space between their bodies and danced and, within seconds, ot
hers were joining in.
Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn noticed Samantha sneaking away. Almost everyone was up and moving now, so Quinn took advantage and slipped out herself. Pushing her way through, she grabbed Cody’s hand. “Come on, doctor,” she said. “Show me what you got.”
Cody shook his head, but followed her lead. He was a terrible dancer, lots of energy, but no rhythm.
“When we first met, you made that crack about writing a book,” she whispered to him. “Remember that?”
He nodded. “The one about brothels.”
“That was bullshit, wasn’ it?”
Another nod from Cody. “How could you tell?”
“By the way you dance.”
“Am I that bad?”
“No, you’re like a young stallion that needs to be broken.”
“I … I need to be broken?” he mumbled.
She grinned and nodded. “Would you like me to break you?”
He gulped. “Yes please.”
Quinn laughed, and they continued to dance. She couldn’t help but chuckle at just how bad Cody’s moves were. Not a natural, definitely no rhythm. But she didn’t care. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing that could pull his mind out of his calculations, that was enough. Maybe even the reason for his always thinking of the next step, even when there was no work to be done and they’d already figured out their next move. And for a brief moment, this all felt like it wasn’t so bad, making Quinn wish it could last a bit longer. Then she took over and began piloting Cody around the dance floor, busting some moves as the others looked on and cheered.
A while later, Quinn snuck away and hunted for Samantha. She found her fiddling with a junked piece of metal from a prior battle past one of the outbuildings.
“How come you’re not back there having fun with the other kids?” Quinn asked.
Samantha shrugged. “All they want to do is play games and talk about dolls and comic books and stuff.”
