by LC Champlin
“It makes sense.” Albin spoke to the world in general as he stared into the distance. “Of course. It all makes sense. I didn’t think him capable of doing such a thing, but it makes perfect sense.”
“I know it’s a bit of a shock, but you’re about to have another,” Ken went on, jovial. “Are you someplace where you can see the arena?”
“Yes.”
“This is why you were supposed to stop that broadcast.”
In the field and on all three levels of stands, the cannibals went still. They stood to military attention. Then as with one mind, those in the stands each sat in a seat. The horde on the field moved into lines like an army. They took a knee.
“They did it.” Nathan braced himself against the seat. “They can control the cannibals.” Static hummed in his mind. “They can rule the world.”
Chapter 82
Touched
Not an Option – Wild Fire
The revelation about Crevan’s betrayal of humanity should come as a surprise to Albin, a shock with more force than an avalanche, an erupting volcano, or a tsunami. It should leave him speechless save for a stammered no, a denial that Neil Crevan, the man who during Albin’s teen years acted as an uncle could do such a thing. Not the man whose daughter grew up with Albin and who had married his friend. But instead, it made perfect sense.
Albin slowly shook his head. All the pieces fit, more tightly than any jigsaw, indeed, the edges fused as one slotted into another. Now they appeared only the seamless image of a man fixated upon growing his power and forwarding his vision of life.
“He wants to destroy you, Mr. Serebus. Then he hopes Janine will marry me.”
The dark man turned, his face full of righteous anger and his eyes glinting with fury. “Then why did he not simply kill me?”
“Revenge?” Albin again shook his head, the only response he could provide in the situation. “It is something you will have to ask of him, it appears.”
A ferocious smile carved across Mr. Serebus’s face. “If the other dark-god wannabes are going to visit Mercury, so will he. And if he’s not there, I will hunt him down.”
“And then?”
“I’ll provide the rope; he can hang himself.”
Albin clasped his hands behind his back. “Let us hope he knots the noose well.”
“He will. If there’s one thing the man does, it’s boasting in his own righteousness.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Mr. Serebus swung back to survey the ranks of cannibals. “What became of Josephine, Marvin, and my engineers? And the Musters, for that matter?”
Albin cleared his throat. The truth would not please his friend.
Stiffening, Mr. Serebus looked over his shoulder in disbelief. Then he stalked toward the attorney. “Please tell me they are safe. And tell me they did not come along on this mission of yours.”
“Shukla and Kuznetsov should by this time be in New York. But . . .” Albin glanced away, then met the man’s desperate gaze. “Neil Crevan supplied them with a flight to New York. I was supposed to be aboard as well, but I declined. As a favor to me, he deigned to transport them.”
“I see.” Jaw set, Mr. Serebus snapped a nod. “There was no way to know at that point. That was the best choice.”
“As for the others, you may ask them yourself soon enough. They freely made the choice to accompany me.”
His countenance relaxing, the other man dropped to one knee before Judge. “You’re blessed to have loyal friends.” As he spoke, he scratched the Shepherd’s neck.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Serebus stood. “Now, I think it’s time we took our leave, wouldn’t you agree?”
The confident smile he gave Albin lifted the weight from the adviser’s shoulders. The old sense of relief and security returned. “I do.” Bringing the Glock to high ready, he joined his employer at the door. Mr. Serebus would die rather than surrender. And whoever attempted to kill him would have the Devil’s own task doing so.
With his AR-15 raised, Mr. Serebus opened the door a crack. “Clear.” They swung into the hall, Albin going left while Mr. Serebus went right. Still clear, they trotted to the glass doors. And halted. Beyond, squads of cannibals knelt in rows. They imitated the abominations on the field.
Mr. Serebus stepped outside. The cannibals appeared not to see him. He approached them with measured tread. Albin trailed at his left. Eerie dread as if walking through a dreamscape permeated the atmosphere. Would the cannibals suddenly leap up and slaughter the interlopers?
Mr. Serebus passed between two columns, studying the infected subjects. At the center of four divisions, he too dropped to a knee, mirroring the cannibals. Intense interest on his face, he lifted his hand.
“Mr. Serebus—”
The hand flicked up, palm rigid—a signal for silence. Then it reached toward the cannibal, a Soldier with blood soaking the side of his neck and torso. Mr. Serebus’s fingertips brushed the victim’s forehead. The touch elicited no reaction from his subject. “Kraus?” No reaction. Slow, deliberate, Mr. Serebus rose. He shook his head.
Albin kept his distance as he circumvented the cannibals.
Ahead, Mr. Serebus broke into a trot. “Sophia and Birk are waiting at Gate 4.”
An explanation of Sophia’s identity and why Birk joined the expedition would wait.
The trio dodged between cannibals, side-stepping pools of black drool, the monsters’ only threat now that the broadcast rendered them immobile.
Down the steps the men jogged, to the gate and its steel bars. Mr. Serebus pushed it open as he reached for his walkie-talkie at his belt. “Sophia, do you copy?” He paused for the reply in his earpiece. “See you there.”
With a glance about, he led the way out into the car park. They darted along the walkway. No Soldiers or FBI agents accosted them. Had Rodriguez truly kept her word and allowed them to escape?
Ahead, a crossover SUV waited.
“Where’s your vehicle?” Mr. Serebus enquired.
“Behrmann is waiting in the Jeep Renegade a short distance away.”
Mr. Serebus slowed to a halt at his vehicle. He opened the rear passenger door, then waved Albin in. “Sophia,” he addressed the driver, “I brought a friend, Albin Conrad.”
As Albin slid inside, Mr. Serebus took the opposite seat. No arguments over who would drive began.
The woman at the wheel glanced in the review mirror. “Hi. Well, Nathan?”
The front passenger seat’s occupant whipped around. “Wait, I thought you were dead!” Victor Birk stared, jaw slack like a country yokel in a sitcom. “He said you were dead. Are you going to tell me you two just happened to reunite here of all places? This is ridiculous. This is all some elaborate trick. Or—”
“Shut up, Birk,” Mr. Serebus and Sophia snapped as one.
His mouth clicked shut. “Well, excuse me. I guess these kinds of things happen to you people all the time. It’s deus ex machina in my opinion—”
“Dr. Birk.” Albin’s diamond-hard tone cut him off as Sophia pulled out of the car park. “If you would be silent long enough, we would explain. We are not calling in the gods. Quite the opposite, in fact. We are attempting to exorcise the gods and the ghosts from the machine.”
The researcher snorted as he sank back into his seat. “Oh lovely, we’re off on another mission impossible.”
“Do you want me to hand you back over to your sister?” Mr. Serebus retorted while belting in.
“Your abuse is no worse than my every day, I suppose.”
“Every day at prison, Mercury, or Doorway?” This received no reply.
Claiming victory, Mr. Serebus turned to his attorney. “Albin, this is Sophia, who is a magnificent sniper and has helped me during a number of crises. Sophia, this is Albin Conrad, my adviser and primary ICE contact.” He smiled, proud and grateful as he patted the attorney’s shoulder.
Sophia nodded. “Good to meet you.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Sophia.”
Mr. Serebus leaned toward the driver’s seat. “Sophia, we need to go back to the Garden of the Gods, Mercury’s headquarters in Colorado Springs. It’s our last hope of stopping them. They’ve succeeded in controlling the cannibals.”
“What?” She twisted around to stare at him. “I—You mean—”
“I failed, yes.” He looked down. Then he sat tall, resolute. “Now it’s time to truly make amends.” Sincerity burned in his eyes.
“True courage is to receive defeat without losing heart,” Albin murmured.
Mr. Serebus turned to his adviser as he spoke: “Give Sophia the location of the Musters and Marvin. Have Josephine meet us there. As much as I hate to put them near danger, I can’t guarantee their safety if they remain here, either.”
“Yes, sir.” They would die together, or they would die separately. Or perhaps they would all survive. Only time would tell.
Chapter 83
Sinners to Repentance
My Fault – Imagine Dragons
Josephine pulled into the driveway a heartbeat before Sophia guided the Escape in to the safe house’s location. The reporter remained in her vehicle until everyone had exited Sophia’s.
“Victor Birk?” She gawked at him. Reporter mode would soon follow. “And . . . Nathan?” She drew a breath, but caught herself and shook her head instead. “Albin actually found you. Ken was right!”
Albin had filled Nathan in during the drive. Sadly, none of it proved as surprising as it should have. The revelation about Neil out-shone all else.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Josephine,” Nathan responded. Albin had said the rest of the pack joined him. Damn, that meant an apology tour. Perhaps he should simply climb on top of the nearest vehicle and declare his remorse. But that would lack the personal touch they deserved . . . and that he needed to render for his own healing. His heart ached as if burned when he remembered the look on Amanda’s face when she confronted him during their last minutes at Redwood Shores.
The house’s front door opened; Amanda Muster waited, half in darkness. A good idea, turning the lights off, thus avoiding silhouetting herself in the doorway.
Pushing his hand through his hair, Nathan strode toward her, Albin at his side. They needed to get into cover before anyone spotted them. Already a drone might hover overhead, or a satellite peer down.
Amanda ceded the entry. He stepped into the domicile on Albin’s heels. Sophia and Birk followed. They cast wary glances around the dark interior. Amanda closed and locked the door after Josephine brought up the rear.
A lamp clicked on, illuminating Marvin Bridges’s stony expression. “Nathan Serebus. I thought you were in prison. I didn’t believe Ken.”
“Marvin.” Nathan swallowed. Memories returned of siccing teenagers on the man, then prying him out of their clutches before they could kick him to death. Next came scenes of him sitting on the garage floor, half out of his restraints. And of Nathan telling him to leave. He didn’t need Marvin anymore, for Nathan thought Albin dead. No need for bait when he had no quarry.
Looking Marvin in the eye—“Marvin, I never apologized to you. I deeply regret what I did. I don’t expect or even ask for your forgiveness, but know that I accept the guilt for what I did. I was wrong.” The words tore free from him with pain like what a fish must feel when an angler tears a multiple-hook lure from its throat. At least his voice didn’t break.
The disgruntled expression on the economist’s face lapsed, surprise taking its place. Then confusion.
“Nathan.” Amanda stepped forward, yet stayed closer to Albin than anyone else. Interesting. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” Her neutral tone and expression left uncertain whether seeing him here represented a good or ill outcome. Likely the latter.
“Nor I you. I owe you an apology as well, Amanda. While I truly did intend to help, I realize I overstepped my bounds and became what I fought against. I am truly sorry. I also apologize for the damage my betrayal did to your daughters. I hope they will be able to trust leadership again. And I hope this experience will make them wiser, as it has me.” He bowed his head. She had no reason to accept his apology.
“I . . .” She sighed. “I know your heart was in the right place. You are a good leader. And . . . Albin has faith in you.”
Faith . . . in him?
“Can we come out?” The small voice that emanated from deeper in the house belonged to Denver.
“Shush!” Taylor.
“Yes, girls,” their mother responded.
The sisters crept out, wary as deer at evening. When they saw Nathan, they halted. Denver sucked on her lower lip for a minute. “Nathan, I . . . I forgive you.”
His throat tightened. “Thank you, Denver. Truly.”
She looked from him to Albin, then back to him. A smile chased the gloom from her features. “You guys are friends again?”
Nathan turned to his adviser. The blond nodded. “Yes, Ms. Denver. We never ceased to be. We merely needed to resolve a disagreement.”
“And I,” Nathan added, “needed to say ‘I’m sorry,’ just as you suggested.”
“All right!” she exclaimed as she pumped her fist.
Taylor stepped forward, evidently emboldened by her sister’s exuberance. What verdict would the older girl give? “Nathan, I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but—” She gulped. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. I just . . .” Hugging herself, she turned away.
“I understand.” Shame needled his heart. Perhaps in time she could forgive him for her own sake.
A sour look on his face, Birk surveyed the assembled before unfortunately breaking his silence: “What on Earth went on with you people? Why can’t you just be normal? You know, stay with the government and eventually go home? But”—he smirked, self-righteous— “it touches my heart to see you reunited. And it’s just so nice that almost everyone accepted your apology, Nate. You’re sorry, and everything is fixed. I don’t know what you did, but it sounds like it was pretty heinous. Knowing you, I don’t doubt it.”
“Dr. Birk”—Albin fixed him with a sub-zero glare—“Mr. Serebus evidently has a reason to suffer your presence. I suggest you express gratitude for this, as it seems your alternative was not enviable.” Hands behind his back, head up, eyes slightly narrowed in the way of a leopard contemplating its prey, Albin made it clear he would take no shit from this twit.
“I happen to have intimate knowledge of LOGOS’s plot.” Crossing his arms, Birk puffed out his chest like a territorial sparrow.
“Actually,” Sophia put in, “we have the data, and Nathan is no amateur in dealing with technology. You’re here because you’re valuable to Lexa and LOGOS, not because you’re valuable to me.”
Nathan cleared his throat. No need to have the allies at each other’s throats. Not yet, at least. “I think introductions are in order.” He led, naming his colleagues and former comrades in order of appearance.
On with business: “Now, we have a meeting of the gods to attend.”
Chapter 84
Time to Seek
Good Fight – Hyper Static Union
The two vehicles set off for Colorado Springs, taking the long, scenic route along streets that only locals traversed. After some discussion, the passengers had distributed themselves with Albin, the Musters, and Bridges in the Renegade, while Mr. Serebus, Behrmann, Birk, and Sophia chose the Ford Escape.
Sophia led, guiding them to a dilapidated mobile home on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. Though the neighbors fell somewhere between local color and methamphetamine-lab owners, no cannibals or armed men appeared.
The vehicles’ passengers disembarked, then hurried into the safety of the domicile. They found it empty save for what one would expect in an assassin’s hideaway: fold-up cots, a cooler, and a table.
At Mr. Serebus’s behest, the groups had removed the batteries from their phones to prevent
anyone tracking them by the covert “stingrays” law enforcement often used to monitor suspects’ movements.
The group settled around two card tables that Sophia had pushed together. He opened a laptop that displayed the Garden of the Gods area. It resembled the standard technological- or pharmaceutical-research area. Hardly Mount Olympus, but one only judged from the exterior.
Sophia opened an image of the building’s blueprint. “There are two levels above and two levels below.”
Birk nodded along with her words. “That’s right. I stayed mostly in the two basement levels. But from the traffic that went through, I believe there may be more to the building than we think.”
“A bunker, perhaps?” Albin suggested
The researcher shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out, huh?” Contrary to all expectations, Birk had taken in stride and even seemed to relish the idea of venturing back into his former prison.
Mr. Serebus looked up at his adviser. “Is there any way you can contact Ken?”
“I will attempt to reach him by his satellite phone, but I met with no success when I rang him earlier.”
After taking the satellite phone Sophia provided, Albin exited via the rear door. Before him stretched the dark, desolate Colorado landscape at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. The pole light nearby flickered.
He dialed. The telephone rang once, twice . . . At the tenth ring, he pressed End.
He glanced over his shoulder; Mr. Serebus watched from the doorway, silhouetted against the light from within the domicile. “No response from our dark god?” He wore a wry smile as he moved into the pole light’s illumination. “I’m not surprised. If he gets involved too much now, he could implicate himself. Or rather, he could call down upon himself the wrath of his fellow gods.”
