He put the car in reverse and pressed his foot on the pedal. The car shuddered as it hit a desk, pushing it aside. He stepped his foot harder, driving the car through the glass doors, shattering it into a thousand pieces, the grind of concrete against the bottom of the car causing it to bob up and down the outside steps, until it finally leveled out onto the street.
Drew put it into drive and pressed on the gas, immediately pushing both feet on the break. The car skidded to a halt. A tank was twenty yards in front of them. He went to back up, but a throng of foreign soldiers were running at him from that direction. He glanced down at Mya, her head in her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
He yanked the wheel, and floored it.
23
J-Quadrant, Solar System
East Rise, Callisto
Bogle read the vid screen in front of her. “Two minutes until impact. We apparently are entering East Rise, another city on Callisto.”
Rivkah shot her a look. Being given a play-by-play by an anxiety ridden co-pilot wasn’t her cup of tea. She felt like opening the bottom hatch and dropping Bogle through the vast cloud they were only two minutes from. And, “impact?” How do you impact a cloud? How did Bogle ever become a captain in the first place? She didn’t seem to have the stomach for adrenaline or chaos.
An ion bolt zoomed past them, slamming into the ground, continuing to churn up the dust cloud in front of them. Another and another whizzed by, blowing up more dirt, rock, and ice.
Rivkah pulled on the control stick again, wanting to get a bird’s eye view of what these thousands upon thousands of bolts slinging past them and erupting on the ground were for. Was something trying to get through, yet this shielding technique kept it at bay?
“One minute until impact,” said Bogle.
Rivkah wanted to rap her on the head. Instead, she remained silent, narrowing her eyes to what might be coming after the dust. The craft made a sharp incline and headed straight over the debris cloud.
Rivkah leaned forward, wanting to grasp the scales of the half human, half reptile Kelhoon below and fling them across the smoking hills in front of them. “Fucking fuck.”
The Kelhoon swarmed over the hillside, destroying everything in their path. As far as the eye could see, cities were engulfed in black, thick plumes of smoke. The Kelhoons must have hit these people quick and hard, an assault that the inhabitants of East Rise were utterly unprepared to fend off.
Thick, smoldering ashes billowed upward into the graying sky, then fell to the ground like snow. It was a blood bath. Dead Atlanteans, in golden armor, holding three prong trident spears, were sprinkled across the land. Others ran toward the north, blasting Kelhoon pursuers with laser-like beams shooting out of each trident prong.
Hundreds of children were being led to one of the many pyramids in East Rise, energy bracelet restraints on, tied together with an energy chain. A young girl, maybe ten or so, was in the back, a Kelhoon whipping her. A lash struck the girl in the face, and she fell to the ground, motionless.
Rivkah unstrapped herself from her chair and stood. She wanted to break every bone in that asshole’s body. A man harming a girl? The Kelhoon might as well be Rivkah’s father and she the girl in the back of the pack, getting whipped like a sick puppy, then lights out.
Rivkah grasped the control stick, then pressed several buttons on the holographic display console. She had to take over this ship, had to turn on weapons and blast that mother fucker where he stood. Hell, maybe they could rescue the children. She kicked the console, her foot going through the hologram. “How do you override this thing?”
Bogle held her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “Why is Morning Star allowing this? Why is Liberty letting this happen? They aren’t helping the fight.”
“Because they are assholes, now – ”
A squad of angry Kelhoon Starfighter LL-class 4’s appeared over the lip of the hills and Rivkah held her breath. Yes, this Liberty character had led these two nitwits – Rivkah and Bogle – to slaughter and they had fallen for it.
“We call those starfighters, Leaping Lizards,” said Bogle, her words barely audible.
“Yes, I know what they’re called. Now, help me re-wire this ship, so we can have a nono-second of a chance of survival.”
Vzzzshooo! Vzzzshooo!
Dozens of wide, almond-shaped starfighters zipped by them, quickly reaching the lip of the hills and meeting the Kelhoon starfighter’s head on, hammering the Leaping Lizards with ion fire. Explosions, falling debris, and fires lit the hilltops, ending the Kelhoon squadron before they even had a chance to engage.
“That won’t happen a second time,” said Rivkah. “Kelhoon learn from their mistakes.”
The almond-shaped starfighters cut left, banking wide, strafing the Kelhoon chasing the Atlantean warriors. Kelhoon infantry dove to the ground, many being ripped to shreds by the tracer fire.
Rivkah glanced down at the handcuffed children, the one young girl in the back being dragged along. For a moment, Rivkah’s heart went out to her. No child should be treated in such a way. If she could jump out, take out the Kelhoon soldier, and release those children, she would without a thought.
“Is there a communication link on this thing?” inquired Rivkah. “We need to let them know about the children.”
Bogle unstrapped herself and leaped up, scouring the craft for anything that might be a comm unit. She pressed a button. “Captain Katherine Bogle here. Does anyone read us? Clear.”
No response.
“Anyone?”
Again, silence.
She pressed more buttons, repeating her questions. No one responded.
Rivkah rummaged around the cockpit for anything that might be a comm device, opening a long, oval chest in the rear of the craft. Tridents, armor, helmets, boots, and odd lightning-shaped guns were scattered in the chest, asking to be taken.
When she brought her eyes to the kids, she jumped back. The girl in the back, the one that was being pulled along like a rag doll, was uncuffed, a swarm of Kelhoons around her, ripping her flesh from her bones.
Rivkah wanted to throw up, to tear their throats out and feed them to the wolves. Never in her long years had she seen something so harsh, disgusting, and evil. Was the child alive when the Kelhoon started eating her? God, she hoped not. She glanced at Bogle. The captain hadn’t seen what she had seen. There was no need to alert her to the horror below.
The craft shuddered, then shifted to the right, zooming in over a pyramid’s golden apex. A flash of white light engulfed the transport and a static sound erupted throughout the cockpit.
Rivkah looked down at her feet, plugging her ears. Bogle did the same.
The white light faded, the static sound disappeared. Rivkah sat and looked up. They were back in the forest they had taken off from and Liberty was next to a tree. She dipped her head and bowed, her eyes full of sadness.
24
J-Quadrant, Solar System
Flood of Dawn, Callisto
Rivkah stepped down the ramp, her forehead low, eyeing Liberty. “Was that a figment of our imagination, or is that what’s really happening at this very moment?”
“The pyramid’s golden apex teleported you back here. That was not your imagination. The Kelhoon are here in full force. That is why we need you.”
Rivkah’s heart skipped a beat. The child did in fact die, eaten by some sick fucks without a conscience.
“Get me over there,” Rivkah growled.
“I wish I could, but we have to wait.”
“Wait for what?” asked Bogle, now standing next to Rivkah.
“Wait for the other two. Captain Fox and Lieutenant Kaden Jaxx. They are here now.”
Rivkah stood more erect. “Where?”
“You will see them soon.”
∞
Fox had his fingers around Jaxx’s neck, squeezing, lifting Jaxx off the ground and above his head. Jaxx imagined Fox as Darth Vader.
The thought quickly changed when he could
n’t take a breath. He felt the blood drain from his face and his eyes bulged in their sockets. He brought his hands up, scratching and tearing at Fox’s steely grip, trying to break it lose from his neck. It didn’t work. He kneed Fox in the chest with all his might. Fox moved back an inch, but squeezed tighter.
“Where the fuck are we, Jaxx?”
Jaxx wanted to shake his head, but in his current predicament, he was bound by the law of physics and the law of someone choking him. All he could do was shrug.
“You don’t know?” He threw Jaxx across the room.
Jaxx landed with a thud, his back hitting hard on the floor. He rolled over, taking in much needed air, then coughed.
“Where have you brought me, Jaxx?” Fox kicked Jaxx in the ribs, not waiting for an answer.
Jaxx let out an “Oomph!” and curled into a ball, covering his head. Another kick landed on Jaxx’s stomach and Jaxx lost his breath entirely, gasping for air, the wind being knocked straight out of him, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head.
Fox tittered, widening his stance, then brought back his leg for a more intense blow.
For the umpteenth time, Jaxx’s emotions gathered in his belly and welled. The kick came swiftly and he caught it, shaking with frustration and anger. Enough was enough. He transferred all of the energy he had and threw it outward, flinging Fox head over heels onto the floor, his face taking the brunt of the fall.
Jaxx stood, hands in fists by his side. His face screwed up with emotion.
Fox wiped his lip and spat out a tooth, then stood slowly, eyeing Jaxx the entire time. “You made me bleed Jaxx. I like to bleed.”
Jaxx lowered his gaze. “I’m not a weakling like you think. If you come any closer, you’ll understand the power I yield.”
“You act like a pussy, Jaxx. I’m not scared of pussies.” He took a step forward, then lunged for Jaxx, swinging his arm around for a nice fist to Jaxx’s face.
Jaxx crouched and brought his hands up, grasping Fox’s punching arm and spun Fox off his feet, throwing him across the room again. Jaxx ran toward Fox as Fox slammed against the floor and took a flying leap, landing a knee on Fox’s chest and a fist to his nose, hearing the snap of a broken nose penetrate the air. Fox’s nasal bone shifted to the side, clearly broken in a couple of places, covering his mouth and cheeks with more blood.
Jaxx backed up, observing a beaten-up Fox. Something he’d never seen before, something he thought he’d never witness. He put his hands up. “Don’t try anything else, Fox.”
Phsssst!
A door slid open. The smell of roses filled the room. Startled, Jaxx spun on his heels, readying himself for whatever else was to come. A woman stood at the door. “Who are you?”
He dropped to one knee, clutching his hand to his heart. Rivkah was near, his mind raced to find her. He caught a glimpse of her in a ship. A ship he’d never seen before. She was with another woman.
He glanced up at the woman at the dome’s opening. She was his height, toned, wearing a white dress with a metallic rose pinned at the shoulder. Trees, purplish-pink in color, were behind her.
He narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”
The woman motioned with her arm to somewhere off in the distance past the trees. Somewhere he couldn’t see. “She is here.”
Fox rose.
Without looking, Jaxx pointed at Fox. A strange wind kicked up and the translucent dome vibrated.
Fox was lifted into the air where he hovered, paralyzed.
Jaxx lifted his chin. For some reason, he was more powerful with this woman in view. “Take me to Rivkah.”
“As you wish.” She gestured to Fox. “But first, you must find a truce between you and your brother.”
Fox dropped to the floor and Jaxx tilted his head, his jaw slack. “My brother?”
“You are blood.”
Fox shook his head violently. “No. We’re not. I met this son of a bitch in the Secret Space Program.”
“You had two different parents who weren’t your blood parents. You aren’t who you think you are, Jaxx. You and Fox aren’t human.”
25
Charlotte, North Carolina
Drew about pissed his pants. The tank’s turret turned, the cannon lowered, aiming directly at Drew and Mya and the car they were stopped in. He glanced in his rear-view mirror. For a second time in this car, foreign troops were behind them, running in their direction, getting closer. Buildings were on their right and left. No escape.
An enemy troop took aim.
“Duck!” He threw an arm over Mya, pulling them both below the dash.
A shot rang out. Cannon fire. Machine guns cracked the air. Another cannon. His car shook. He looked at his hands, seeing he was still alive. He looked at Mya. She was still alive too, leaning her head against the door’s armrest, blankly staring at the sky through the windshield.
He looked around, half-expecting his car would be riddled with bullets, a hole through it from cannon fire. It hadn’t been touched. He peeked above the steering wheel. The tanks turret had shifted and shot another round over their car. He looked behind him. The man who had aimed at them was on his side, the rifle resting against his body, and blood oozing out of his head, the foreign troops racing around to take cover.
He put the car in reverse and put his foot on the gas. The tires spun, then took hold, and he gripped the wheel, veins bulging on his hands, his knuckles turning white and steered the fastest way out of here – the only way out of his predicament – straight through the battle.
A thud and his car bounced up and down, driving over the dead soldier that tried to make Drew “dead” only moments before.
His heart raced, something he was getting all too used to without the weed soaking through his body. He hadn’t had a bong hit in days.
He turned the wheel, pressed the brakes, spinning the car around, and shifted his car into drive. Mya closed her eyes and a tear streaked down her face. Drew wanted to console her, tell her everything was going to be alright but he’d be lying.
He pressed the pedal to the floor as bullets sparked against the street and sidewalks all around him, enemy soldiers falling like dominoes. He sped forward and turned down a street, then floored the breaks.
He went flying forward, the car honking from his chest’s impact against the wheel. “Whoa! Back up, back up, back up.”
He reversed it, foreign jeeps with gunners coming his way, shooting this way and that. He checked Mya. The seatbelt kept her strapped in. Safe.
He spun the wheel, putting himself on a different street, then zig zagging around abandoned cars, shot to shit, some burning, some already half rubble. A dead, burnt up corpse was in one.
He bit his lip. He – no, Mya and he – would be like that person if they don’t get out of here fast.
He hung a right on West 4th Street, never in his life thinking he’d be driving this fast down any inner city.
Jikoooosh!
Jikoooosh!
Two jets flew low, way too low. A black one in the lead, a gray, United States military on its tail. Then the world shook. The black jet became a fire ball, splitting in two, a wing splintering off, a poof of smoke and debris billowing toward the sky behind several buildings.
The other half careened toward Drew.
“No, no. You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
He put his arm in front of Mya. The jet fell faster, toward them. He took a right on Gesco Street. The earth shook from the Jet’s impact, a cloud of fire sucking in the air behind them, a plume of smoke blowing outward an instant later.
He hung a left on State Street, skidding out, nearly hitting a parked-car, no doubt abandoned. A right on Tuckasagee Road, then curling around the long bend, an inner smile overtook Drew. I-85 was in view. Once on that, he’d be heading out of town and to Michael Anderle at Lookout Mountain, Tennessee.
For a minute, everything was calm, except him. He looked down at Mya. She was asleep, no doubt from trauma, and was resting her cheek against h
is arm. He placed his knee at the bottom of the wheel, keeping the car straight and turned on the radio.
To his surprise, someone was talking.
“...they aren’t sending help, people. To any of those listening to me, then listen to my words very clearly. They aren’t sending help. Really, you think they are? Then, tell me, where is are our allies? Shouldn’t they have been here by now? Didn’t they see the Chinese coming? We’re losing a piece of our country every single day and the rest of the world sits idly by, laughing their asses off. Our interim President, Jefferson Kennedy, says he is still in communication with our allies. He suggests they are sending their forces, but I’m saying if they aren’t here already, they ain’t coming.” It was Bob Larson, the neo-con, racist asshole who claimed he wasn’t a neo-con or a racist. He was still on the air?
Drew merged onto I-85, not a driver in sight. Hopefully it would stay that way until he got into Tennessee. He didn’t want lines of cars with freaked out people slowing him down.
“The Chinese and the North Koreans are making mincemeat of our military. Half of our guys are on bases overseas, no doubt trying to get to us right now. That’s what I was saying for years. The United States isn’t here to police the world. We were supposed to stay out of foreign entanglements and affairs, just as our first President, George Washington, practically yelled at our nation to do. And, what are we up to? Crapping all over his intentions, over his genius, and over his years of service to bring us freedom...”
Drew clicked off the radio. He checked his gas.
“Half-full?”
That wasn’t going to get him to Tennessee.
26
J-Quadrant, Solar System
Flood of Dawn, Callisto
Jaxx stared open mouthed at the woman before him. She was lying. She had to be but he couldn’t get a read on her if she was. He shook his head. “That asshole is not my brother and I’m human. Plus, this guy has been trying to kill me for I don’t know how long.”
Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Page 12
