Evolution of Angels

by Nathan Wall

  “What was that?” Reznor asked. The purple aurascales and silver armor plating retracted from his face.

  “I'm not sure.” Hershiser finally stood on his own and pressed a few buttons on his wrist pad. It was acting crazy. He tried to get a few readings, but the numbers he was receiving couldn't be right. He tried summoning the drones, but they weren't responding. “This is strange. The location sensors...”

  “Help me,” one of their friends’ screams echoed not too far from where they were standing.

  They sprinted toward the call for help. The aurascales sealed over Reznor's face. A gruesome scene, in which a half-dozen dismembered bodies lay strewn along the ground, unfolded before them. The blood swirled along the grass. In the center of the chaos stood a beast, taller than a Cyclops, with the head of a bull and soulless blank eyes. He was covered in animal-like hair, though it seemed the rest of his body was human in nature. Lewis was in his grasp. The agent’s body was small enough for the Minotaur’s hands to go all the way around and then some.

  “Put him down.” Hershiser knelt and took aim at the Minotaur’s face, turning the dial of his weapon up to full strength. “I won't ask again.”

  “P-Please help me,” Lewis cried, his armor retreating against his will. The Minotaur nodded, ripped off Lewis’s arms, and crushed his skull with a foot as he charged Hershiser and Reznor.

  Reznor ran up the side of a tree and back flipped, using his momentum to drive a knee into the side of the beast's head. The force of the blow diverted the Minotaur’s path and sent the two of them crashing through several thick trees twice the size of redwoods. The bark and trunks exploded into shards of flying bullets. The trees crumbled in on top of themselves.

  Reznor clenched his fists and blades shot out from the top of his wrist pads. He jumped at the Minotaur, leaving behind a sizable crater. His right blade dug into the back of the Minotaur’s neck, while making several slashes along the beast’s face with his left blade. Hershiser followed down the small slope, unleashing his own version of fury by repeatedly shooting the same spot around the Minotaur’s kidney.

  “I will destroy you,” the beast yelled. Its shriek seemed to split between a man's voice and the indecipherable roar of a beast. He grabbed Reznor by the waist and broke his back in two. He turned around and threw the purple rag doll. Hershiser was barely able to duck in time. His friend flew through a few trees, until the fifth trunk stopped Reznor's momentum, snapping the spine in a second location.

  Several other energy blasts joined the calamity as the rest of Hershiser's squad ran to his aid. From all directions the purple energy bombarded the beast, burning off hair, corroding their way through his thick skin. The beast let out a terrible cry and fell onto all fours. The sector squad's fury refused to relent. Blood seeped from the Minotaur’s eyes, mouth, and ears as he dug into the ground with one hand and pierced the thick trunk of a slumped over tree with another.

  “He's biding his time,” Hershiser said to himself. He stopped walking forward and raised his hand for the others to do the same, but they didn't pay him any mind. They continued to walk closer to the beast, holding down their triggers, pummeling the Minotaur with plasma blasts. He yelled once more, “Stop in your tracks now.”

  Christian grabbed hold of Travis and yanked him back, but once again no one else paid any attention. The expression on the Minotaur’s face went from desperate agony to one of sadistic joy. He stood once enough men were within his radius. He swirled the tree around like a baton, crushing the men.

  “Fall back,” Hershiser yelled, running up the hill, sporadically shooting behind him. Travis, Christian, and a few others weren't far behind. They reached the plateau of the hill, standing at the precipice of a river bank on the edge of the tree line. Across the river, built into a large mountain side—jetting up into the clouds—was a fortress. Thousands of winged creatures soared down from the clouds. The Minotaur and Cyclopes stormed from behind the sector squad. As the swarm of bat-like demons swooped in from above, and the lumbering giants reached the river front, a pink light formed on top of the water. A boat drifted through.

  Standing on the bow was a hooded ghostly figure. His eyes were covered with a piece of tattered cloth. His frail hands clung tightly to a large staff which was driven into the calm waters. The gray cloak draped over his entire body. He raised his right hand. The forces which approached Hershiser and the others halted.

  “The princess has asked for them to be kept alive,” he said with a whispered hack. The rickety old boat slowly turned around and backed up onto the shoreline. The old man slightly turned and offered his large staff to assist the men onto the boat. “Lady Maya desires your company.”

  “And if we don't want to go?” one of the men yelled out, aiming his gun.

  The hooded figure nodded. The beasts from above dove down like a swarm of locusts, zooming in through the group in a cloud of confusion, and retreated just as quickly as they came. When all settled down, the man who questioned the boat's guide had vanished.

  “She is an impatient one,” the frail man rasped as Hershiser grabbed hold of the staff and climbed aboard the boat.

  * * *

  Jarrod walked into what was widely referred to as the “situation room.” He wore a gray hooded sweatshirt with his arms placed in the front pouch, and looked around the room. No one bothered to return his gaze, except the strange Asian girl who followed Sanderson around—Lian. She acknowledged that Jarrod noticed her looking him over, but didn't avert her eyes. His curiosity peaked, so he decided to talk to her.

  He meandered his way through the hundred moving parts of the situation room. People zoomed by with tablets, or spun around on chairs as they moved from station to station. He didn't take his gaze off of Lian, finally standing next to her chair. They silently analyzed one another as if on equal footing, attempting to figure each other out.

  A chair rolled in Lian's direction. She stuck her hand out and stopped its movement. She gestured with a slight tilt of her head and Jarrod sat.

  “You've been freaking me out,” Jarrod said, still gazing into her brown eyes.

  “Feeling has been a mutual one,” she said, gazing back into his blue ones.

  “What have I done to freak you out?” Jarrod laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back and scoped out the room. He looked back to Lian. “What's with these guys’ affinity for younger kids?”

  “I'm not sure I follow?” she asked, looking down at her hands and at the way her thumbs were twiddling. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to think back to when she was younger. Though she couldn't tell which voice inside his head was asking the question that was about to come out of his mouth, she took a guess. “A purer soul.”

  “Say what?” He looked at her, confused. “I was going to ask about all the kids you seem to have running around this military complex. Seems like kind of a human rights violation or something. At least I would assume so. You can't be more than fifteen—”

  “—I'm sixteen,” she snarled at him, talking through her teeth.

  “Ok, chill out.” He grinned, holding his hands up. “You're sixteen, all these little kids they got wandering around healing wounds, and the hundreds of other ones I've seen being marched in and out of what looks like classrooms... it's all very odd, and that's saying something when you've already shown me glowing Agents with second skins, stones which are called stars that create limitless power, and some guy who can control dirt and stones with his thoughts. To take the cake of weirdness in a group like that is not a small feat.”

  “And you didn't even mention the ones who can read minds.” She smiled, staring forward.

  “Who can read minds?”

  “The blonde at ten o'clock, dressed in blue with her nose buried in the stack of papers, not paying any attention to where she is going,” Lian said.

  Jarrod looked around and found the woman Lian was talking about. “I see her.”

  “In ten seconds she is going to turn l
eft to go down those stairs just a foot too early, topple over the rail and into the lap of the bald man who has been ravaging her with his eyes. They'll share a laugh, he'll ask her for coffee, and she'll walk off disgusted, but with a smile on her face, politely accepting the invitation out of some misguided obligation to not devastate his feelings.”

  Jarrod shook his head in disbelief and counted with his fingers. When all ten digits were pointed toward the ceiling, the woman toppled end-over-end and into the bald guy's lap, straddling him face-to-face with a leg to each side of him. His hands were awkwardly placed on her thighs as he went pink and asked her a question. The woman stood, adjusted her blouse and skirt, and gave a half-faced smile as she nodded and then turned around, rolling her eyes.

  “You must suck on Valentine's day.” Jarrod winked at Lian, nodding with fascination. “Pretty impressive. Do me.”

  “I'd rather not,” she said in a sassy tone, hoping he'd let the test go. She noticed in his eyes that he had no intention of dropping it. “I need to focus on what's coming up.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded. “So how does it work? Can you see the future?”

  “Yes and no.” She rubbed nervously at her legs and then popped her fingers. “The best way to explain it is that I can see free will...”

  “That makes absolutely no sense...”

  “It does if you really think about it.” She looked at him and laughed as he made goofy faces.

  “You didn't see that coming.” He puffed his chest and smirked pretentiously.

  “I wasn't looking for it.” She moved some hair behind her right ear, her green sleeves hanging down to the middle of her palms. “I don't think there is anyone who can really see the future because that would mean absolutely everything is set in stone, which would defeat the purpose of free will. But I do believe people can see choices, which are heavily influenced by who a person has become through their past.”

  “I'm sure not everyone believes in free will.” Jarrod crossed his legs and slouched in the chair.

  “Free will, cause and effect, or predestination. It all has to start with someone's will, doesn't it?” Lian looked around the room and stared at the back of Sanderson's bald head. “People can't see past the choices they don't understand...”

  “OK, Morpheus.”

  “But at any given moment, along any choice you're presented with throughout the day, you're offered multiple options.” She looked at her hand, curled her fingers, and then looked at him as she shook her fist. “If I were to try and punch you, what would you do?”

  “I would grab your hand and twist it, countering your blow.”

  “That would be the most logical choice for someone like you to make, probably based off of your past experiences. Not everyone would have the same reaction.” She unclenched her fist and rested her hand on her lap. “Someone who grew up in a critical family, been picked on their entire life, relegated to the shadows of every social circle, probably has a chip on their shoulder, and goes hard at everything they do in life as if they have a point to prove, may be a bit angrier than a normal person would. If they were beaten as a small child, that anger might turn into subdued sociopathic tendencies underneath a layer of squeamishness.”

  “And the point is?” He grinned with a challenging gleam in his eye.

  “The point is that person might allow themselves to be punched in the face because they haven’t been conditioned to actively stand up for themselves in the moment.”

  “But they would probably come back with a gun and shoot the place up.” Jarrod gave her a crooked skeptical look, slightly shaking his head.

  “Now you're starting to get it.” Lian gave a slow and sarcastic applause, forcing a wide-eyed smile as she nodded. “So I can see into a person's emotions, the past, the choices laid out before them, read their thoughts of the moment, and figure out what they're going to do before they blink their eyes. Since nature is built up with a defined set of laws, there is only ever one outcome to any unique set of circumstances and choices. Therefore, I don't see the future; I see the person's free will.”

  “Are you ever wrong?”

  “Rarely.” She looked at the floor.

  “They're approaching the Noshaq region now,” the grating southern accent of a man—with his face locked in on a computer screen—called out.

  “Lian, we need you.” Sanderson snapped his fingers at her. His eyes fixed on Jarrod just for a second before snapping his fingers once more at Lian. “I didn’t mean later.”

  “Jeez, can you tell me what that look meant?” Jarrod chuckled, nodding his head at Sanderson's expression.

  “It's best if I left that one up to your imagination.” She winked at him before skipping over to Sanderson. “I'm ready.”

  “I need you to establish psychic connection with Hershiser. I need up-to-the-second perception of what he is seeing.” Sanderson gripped his cup of coffee tightly, rubbing his right thumb up and down the handle of the mug.

  Lian nodded and signaled for a chair to be brought over to her. She sat down, placing her palms over the armrests. Jarrod walked slowly to the chair and stood behind her, watching the numerous monitors which showed various satellite images and camera feeds from the aircrafts.

  Lian's breathing slowed, but became more methodical. A strange energy filled the air. Jarrod could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His focus went from the monitors to Lian and then briefly to Sanderson, who he noticed was gazing back.

  “Should I go?” Jarrod asked, but Sanderson simply shook his head in reply.

  “Hershiser and I are one.” Lian opened her eyes and they were pure white. “We are disembarking now.”

  “We need to know what's in the area thirty-six meters northeast. It looks like he has a little bit of a climb.” Sanderson pointed at the monitor. He leaned in closer to the man running the computer. “Can you clean up this image a bit?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Drones up and operational now,” Lian replied. Jarrod noticed that whenever she said something that weren't her own thoughts, the veins in her neck slightly bulged through. About a minute passed by when the veins bulged again. “What is that?”

  “We're unsure of the reading. We will pull up a closer look with the satellite,” Sanderson replied.

  “Hold on. I'm getting random drops in temperature in the surrounding areas.” The man at the computer quickly scanned his fingers across the keyboard. “It seems like a rift, but it's far too small.”

  “It's a rift alright.” Jackson looked at Sanderson and let out a brief sigh. “They've got company.”

  Jarrod looked over at the drone feed and noticed they were flying close to the mountainside, laying down suppressing fire on the random flashes of pink light. His eyes scanned back over to the satellite images as the camera zoomed in for an extra close look. One of the men, he couldn't tell who, was grabbed from behind and dragged down the mountain.

  “There's quite a few of these bastards,” Lian yelled, her temple throbbing. “Take them out.”

  “Mr. Sanderson, sir, the area temp is dropping rapidly...”

  “It's a second rift,” Jackson said under his breath, shaking his head as he left the room, marching with intent.

  “Hershiser, we're picking up a strange heat signature in the area. The heat map is going cold. What's going on?” Sanderson said, frantically yelling at Lian. “Our images are...”

  “They're gone, sir.” The man at the computer looked at Sanderson.

  “Oh my God.” Lian fell forward, pressing the palms of her hands tightly onto her face. Jarrod grabbed her before she hit the floor, slowly pulling her onto his lap. He looked her over, noticing her temples and the veins in her neck pumping furiously. Her skin was as cold as ice. “I could feel him being ripped away.”

  “Find them right now.” Sanderson slammed his fist into the table top and slouched over. “I knew this was a horrible idea.”

  “They're gone?” Jarrod looked at Sanderson, his
heart racing. “You have to find them. You've gotta. My friends...”

  “I understand we have to find them, kid, but your friends are at the bottom of the priority list.” Sanderson rubbed the top of his head, pacing back and forth. “Bring up every satellite we have. Hack a few that aren't ours. Scour the globe and find them.”

  “You won't...” Lian tried to sit up on her own, but collapsed back into Jarrod's arms. “They're... I dunno. I've never seen it.”

  “Oreios has,” Sanderson said under his breath. “Where's Jackson?”

  “He just stormed out of here,” Jarrod replied.

  “Any bets on where he's going?” Sanderson shook his head, running out the door. “We have to stop Jackson before he kills him.”

  * * *

  Oreios sat on his small cot, propped against the whitewashed brick wall with his legs and feet flat on the cot. He stretched his toes, feeling the soft linen along the arches of his feet tickle his skin. He put his half blown off limb up to the wall and could feel the earth on the other side of the thick barrier. The gears to his door cranked open and he knew what this visit was going to be about.

  “Hello, lover,” he teased, looking up at Jackson's fresh face. He thought hard, trying to remember the last time he'd seen Jackson's remade blue eyes and sandy blond hair. A look he knew the features were not uniquely Jackson's. “Does it ever get old looking into the mirror and seeing someone else's face?”

  Jackson grabbed Oreios by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and then slung him onto the floor. He leaned on top of Oreios, pressed a knee down on his neck, and slammed several blows into his face. Jackson stood, grabbed his prisoner by the hair, and flipped him onto the cot. He pulled a blade from the side of his belt and held it to Oreios' neck.