Deathless (The Shadow Wars Book 12)

by S. A. Lusher

  Hauling her up into the air by the leg, it grabbed her foot with its other hand and gave one hard yank. A scream beyond pain, entirely beyond sanity, filled the cavern as her leg came away in a spray of blood and the cracking of bones.

  It tossed her and the leg aside, then reached out and snatched Drake up, wrapping its long, metal fingers around his neck.

  * * * * *

  how could this possibly be happening it made no sense it couldn't even be real there was nothing like this in the entire universe that could possible be he missed Kyra so much why did she leave him and what would happen to him now the pain his neck he could feel the blood draining out of his body could feel his fucking body over there separated from his neck from his head this wasn't even close to he should be dead why wasn't he dead and who was he where was he why was this happening pure bloody dismal chaos

  They need my help. I must help them.

  screaming echoing hell misery suffering twitching godforsaken why was this happening why had Hawkins let this event occur why how where and he could remember Kauffman and Baker and Cage and the others all the others who had died before him left him alive for what for the only woman he'd ever loved to leave him but his memories were gone and they were never coming back and he couldn't even remember his own parents

  Focus. Fight through it. I can do this. Roll over...there's my body. I can see my own body. Oh god how am I going to

  it hurts so much why was this happening to him why was he alone where was Eve where were his friends he couldn't even cry for his mother because his mother was just a woman he didn't know and a hole in his head

  Body is coming close now. Okay, up. Stand up. Please, I can do this. I have to do this. I can hear them screaming. Gunfire. Okay, yes, up, hands and knees. Closer. Come closer

  impossible blood screaming ripping shattering bones torture beyond measure a universe composed entirely of blood and shrieking and undying

  Touching my head now. Okay, hands, careful. Hands picking me up. This is this hardest fucking thing I've ever had to do in my life. Grasping my head, okay. Up now, UP, standing UP now. Okay, I'm up, fuck if I still could puke I'd be doing it right now. I'm holding my own fucking head in my own fucking two hands

  and oh god the pain was eating him alive he remembered the rains of Dis wastelands and scant peaceful seconds with Kyra and then no please why zombies eating him alive

  Walking now. Okay, I'm walking. It isn't far. There's the entrance. I can do this. I have to do this. More screaming now. Closer. Closer. Closer. Oh god no Jennifer. Her leg coming apart. Drake is in its grasp. Pistol my pistol in my hand

  misery pain torment torture

  raising my pistol now. So fucking hard to aim like this, my fucking point of view is shit. I only need to just get this one shot off. Big thing's fucking ugly head. Aim. Come on fingers, fucking work. Squeezing the trigger…

  * * * * *

  Jennifer couldn't believe her eyes.

  Through the haze of pure agony that was making it difficult to form even semi-coherent thoughts, she saw a headless body stumble in through the opening in the cave wall they'd come through. She'd been groping for her pistol, still miraculously in its holster, thinking it to be a Deathless. But it wasn't, she realized, recognizing the armor and then, impossibly, the head being held in one arm. It was Greg. Somehow, someway, it was him.

  Then he raised the pistol and shot the demon thing through the head.

  It was just one shot, but he must have hit something critical, because suddenly it let go of Drake, who dropped heavily to the ground, coughing raggedly. Then Greg had collapsed, dropping his head, which went rolling away.

  “Kill it!” Drake cried.

  Jennifer snapped her gaze back. The pain was unbearable now, it was like her whole body was on fire, everything hurt and she was half-blinded. Insanity almost seemed like a kind of release now. But they were close, they were so fucking close. She groped for her pistol, finding it still in its holster and she pulled it out.

  Aiming at the metal demon, she added her gunfire to Parker's and Drake's. The huge metal beast twitched and jerked violently, then froze up and toppled over, slamming into the ground with a resounding crash.

  A few seconds of silence passed.

  “Parker! Now!” Jennifer screamed as the pain slammed down on her like a fucking hammer. She screamed, grabbing at her leg. The fucking thing had ripped it, ripped it off at the knee. She had felt the bones inside of her snapping and the flesh and meat tearing. She'd even had a view of the leg coming away in stringy bits of gore that stretched like a slice of particularly cheesy pizza when you tried to separate it from the rest.

  Parker didn't reply. She just hurried over to the device, staring up into the darkness. Jennifer would give anything to make the pain end. She looked over briefly as she saw Drake collapse to the ground, no doubt being overwhelmed by his own agony.

  She looked back over just in time to see Parker disappearing into the device.

  It snapped close. Silence fell, broken only by their agonized groans.

  Three seconds went by. Then five. Then ten.

  Pure mindless terror consumed Jennifer. What if it never ended? What if Parker couldn't do it? What if she was stuck like this? What if-

  She passed out.

  EPILOGUE

  –Hell & Back–

  “Hey, Eric, how you doing?”

  Eric looked up from his meal, feeling his heart leap briefly into overdrive. As he saw that it was Drake, he felt the fear become replaced by guilt. He shrugged and looked back down at his meal: meat and cheese enchiladas.

  “I'm okay,” he replied.

  Drake sat down across from him. For a moment, they simply sat there in the mess hall in awkward silence. It had been two weeks since Ash. His stomach was still sore.

  “I just came back from checking on Jennifer,” Drake said, trying to start up the conversation again. “She's doing fine. Her new leg is good.”

  “How's your arm?” Eric asked.

  “Pretty much back to one hundred percent,” Drake said, holding his right arm up. He clenched and released his fist. Eric did have to marvel at that. It looked like the real thing, not like they'd grown a cloned arm and sewed it back on.

  Another moment of silence passed. Eric picked at his meal, then suddenly felt resolution come down on him. He had to face this.

  “About what happened on Ash...” he began.

  “It's all right,” Drake replied. “It was a very trying experience.”

  “I don't remember much after that psychic assault. I know now, based on what you told me, that I failed whatever test was there, failed to defend myself. But I do remember trying to stop you...in bits and pieces. And I remember shooting you. And I'm sorry.”

  “It's fine, Eric. I forgive you. You weren't yourself.”

  “I was weak,” Eric replied, sighing heavily. “I remember thinking...that I was being punished. That I deserve it. I don't know why but it made sense at the time, it made perfect sense.”

  “It's understandable,” Drake said quietly. “Based on what you've told me...well, when you get hammered on enough by life, it's easy to feel like it must be for a reason. That you must have done something to deserve it.”

  “I know it's not true...that the universe doesn't care and shit just happens. But there's always that part of me, probably a part of a lot of us, that finds it easier to believe in something bigger than they are. Even if it means damnation. I guess damnation feels better to some people than shit just happening,” Eric replied.

  “Yeah.”

  “So...what about Greg?”

  “He's still recovering in the infirmary. He'll make it.”

  “Good...I still can't believe they managed to get his head back on.”

  “Medical science has come a long, long way...”

  Again, they descended into silence. Eric found himself feeling better now that he had actually faced Drake. Most of him felt at least somewhat sure that the man would
n't bear any bad feelings for what happened on Ash, but then, there was always that part that asked What if on worst case scenarios. He remembered what Sierra had said when he'd asked about how he should handle how to ask Drake out. Her logical response.

  He remembered Sierra talking to him after he'd woken up in the infirmary aboard the Dauntless, and he remembered crying when Drake had brought Luna to visit him in the infirmary. It had been a rare moment when she had actually laid down on him, since she was normally so against cuddling. She'd gone to sleep purring. It had been like coming home.

  Fuck it, he thought.

  “I've been meaning to go on a vacation after all this crap...you want to come with me?”

  Drake smiled. “Yeah, definitely.”

  * * * * *

  Greg slowly opened his eyes.

  Everything felt sluggish and distant. Wherever he was, it was dark, but it was deeply comfortable. Where was he?

  “I don't want him awake for very long.”

  “I know. Just give me ten minutes with him.”

  “Fine. Ten minutes. No longer.”

  Slowly, the world slid into focus. Eve. He saw Eve standing over him, smiling gently. She reached down and carefully took his hand.

  “Eve?” he asked. His voice sounded ragged. “Where-”

  “Don't try to talk,” Eve said. “You're onboard the Dauntless, Greg.”

  Suddenly, he remembered Ash. He remembered the Deathless. He remembered...his head coming off. He jerked at the memory.

  “Greg, no! Don't move.” She put her hands on his shoulders, firmly but carefully. He felt his body relax at her touch and some of his logic came back. Obviously the plan had worked...but how long had it been? Who had survived?

  “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have had them wake you yet...I'll keep this brief, Greg. Your plan worked, but I'm afraid that Parker died in the process. I read the report and talked with the others. Parker managed to keep the field going for nearly three days. Hawkins arrived on the scene with several emergency medical teams within ten hours of receiving the call. Drake, Eric, Jennifer and Keron are all alive and well. They've already recovered for the most part. It's been two weeks since we recovered you from Ash.

  “The crews managed to save about sixty percent of the local population. The others were either too damaged to be repaired or died when Parker's body finally gave out and the field dropped. It was a near thing, but the medics managed to reattach your head. It took almost an entire day of continuous surgery and you've been put into a chemically induced coma ever since. They're saying that you should make a full recovery. They're using some high-tech gear to accelerate the healing. They're going to wake you back up in a few days to begin some physical therapy.”

  “Ash?” he asked softly.

  “They took the device and threw it into the local star. It's gone forever now. They're in the process of cleaning up the planet, salvaging what there is left to be salvaged.”

  Somewhere else, a door opened.

  “Your ten minutes are up.” He realized he recognized the other voice now. Another familiar face appeared next to Eve. It was Mertz. He grinned down at Greg. “Hello, Greg. Sorry to cut it short, but I really have to put you back under. It's dangerous having you awake like this.”

  “Okay,” he rasped.

  Eve leaned down and kissed him gently. “I'll be here when you wake up again. I'll be watching over you.”

  He felt a horrible twinge of guilt at that because, as Mertz administered the drugs to put him back under, his last thought was that he wasn't sure if he could ever face another mission again. And then all was dark and silent.

  THE BLIND WAR

  CHAPTER 01

  Allan opened his eyes to a gunmetal gray ceiling.

  He was lying on his back. It was something he wasn't used to doing. Normally he slept on his left side, but since he'd started his recovery several months ago, regularly visiting a trained professional and taking some mood stabilizers and anti-depressants, he found himself sleeping on his back more often than not. He'd been thinking it over and the closest he'd come to an answer, at least for himself, was that when he slept on his side, it was almost an unconscious, natural defensive posture. Sleeping on his back meant he didn't feel threatened by…

  Well, by everything.

  It also coincided with the fact that he was sleeping better than he had in his entire life. He was actually feeling well-rested. It was honestly really nice. He hadn't realized what it was like to have a series of decent, full nights' rest.

  He was feeling better than ever before.

  Consequently, he wasn't really having nightmares anymore. Or, if he was, he wasn't really remembering them. They still popped up from time to time, (he knew he would never get over the harrowing experience on Lindholm, the killer or the decision he had been forced to make), but they were much more manageable.

  Someone shifted in the bed beside him.

  Startled, Allan glanced over. He saw Callie laying there, facing him, still asleep, her breathing smooth and regular. What was she doing here? Last night was supposed to be her night with Greg. According to the plan, Eve was going to spend the night in someone else’s cabin and Callie was going to spend the night in Greg’s cabin. Allan had briefly considered going and seeing if anyone else was up for some sex with him, but he'd been training hard all day and he was exhausted by the time 'night' had fallen on the Dauntless.

  So he'd just gone back, showered and fallen into sleep almost immediately.

  What had gone wrong then?

  Although the relationship had been going on for a couple months now, both Callie and Greg, (mostly Greg), were still occasionally weird about it. Allan always did his best to smooth it over. Technically, most of his experience with open relationships was the kind where both people just had sex, either one-night stands or consistent friends-with-benefits sex, with other people. Sometimes separately, sometimes in threesomes, (or foursomes). But he'd also had experience with the other kind, where either he or his partner, sometimes both, had a more serious relationship with someone else beyond just sex.

  Despite all his trouble growing up, all his misgivings towards life, for some reason, jealousy had just never really been a problem with him. And since he was able to push past that with extreme ease, it was simple enough to assess whether or not he trusted his current partner enough not to leave him for the other person. And he trusted Callie. He liked both her and Greg, and wanted both of them to be happy.

  God knew that all of them had been fucking miserable for enough in their lives, so why not find happiness wherever you could?

  But he knew things weren't going well for Greg right now, either.

  He wondered if that was what had led to Callie's unexpected presence. He rolled over and glanced at the clock on their nightstand. It was just past seven in the morning. Well, Allan knew he wasn't getting back to sleep. He'd hit the hay early last night and now he felt rested, refreshed and recharged, ready to face the day and whatever it had to offer. As he sat up and stretched, feeling a few joints pop, Callie woke up.

  “Hey,” she said softly, still very sleepy. She reached out and ran her warm hand up and down his bicep. “How you doing?”

  “Fine. How about you? Thought you were going out for the night,” he replied, smiling at her and taking her hand. He brought his thumbs to her palm and began to massage it. It was something she'd taught him and she really enjoyed having it done to her.

  “Mmm...well, I hung out with Greg for a little while. We had dinner, then went to the observation room. He was really distracted and hard to talk to. Which...well, I don't blame him. I mean...he got his head cut off.”

  “Yeah...”

  “So, anyway, we eventually went back to his room and Eve was still there and it got kind of awkward because it seemed like they really needed to talk about something. So I just ended up leaving them to it and came back here.”

  “Any idea what they were going to take about?” Allan asked.

&
nbsp; “Probably the fact that Greg has been contemplating leaving Anomalous Ops. I can't imagine it being about anything else,” Callie replied.

  Allan nodded, falling into thought. He'd hate to see Greg go, but...well, like Callie said, he couldn't really blame him for freaking out. He wasn't sure how he'd handle something like that. His life was a lot smoother now but honestly he knew that a lot of extreme emotions were still there, not far beneath the surface of his psyche, waiting for the right event to unleash them. Getting more mentally healthy and putting your life back together didn't mean that the bad emotions or the instability just went away, it simply meant that they were easier to deal with. Allan still had bad days and he knew there was still a lot wrong with him.

  “How are you?” Callie asked, bringing him back to the here and now.

  “I'm good, actually. I slept heavily and well,” he replied.

  Callie smiled and shifted closer to him, hugging him tightly to her. “Good. I hate it when you can't sleep well. I'm way too familiar with that.”

  He hugged her back. “Yeah. It's been nice...so you feel like getting up and having some morning sex in the shower?” he asked.

  “Have I ever said no to that question?”

  * * * * *

  Over breakfast, Allan could feel something coming.

  He was never entirely sure how he knew when something big was approaching. It was a little like smelling rain on the air or seeing lightning on the distant horizon, but significantly more subtle. After their shower, he and Callie had headed for the mess hall, grabbed some bacon and eggs and sat down. Probably the first clue was how empty the place was. The Dauntless tended to operate on a fairly regular schedule...for the most part. There were almost always at least some people in the mess hall in the morning.