by Minton, Toby
He hadn't been allowed out at night since the first creature attacked Nikki, but that wasn't enough time to make him lose his familiarity with these woods. No amount of time would do that. This was his training ground. This was his home.
Crouched at the edge of the clearing, near the inky darkness under the thick, needle-covered boughs, Impact keyed his watch to check the time. Then, by force of habit, he checked the rest of his equipment, even though he'd already done so several times.
Besides his watch and the night-vision goggles on his forehead, he had only half a liter of water, which he'd barely touched, three packets of energy gel, and a compact first aid kit in his pack. The small, dome-shaped pack fit snugly between his shoulder blades, held securely in place by straps crossing his chest. He was geared out for an extended run, far more than this op called for, but Elias wanted this one to go by the numbers. He'd insisted on every precaution.
Under the pack, Impact wore his custom version of the team's night op uniform—fitted, lightweight fabric in a dull black with compression bands every few centimeters across his torso and legs. His tac boots were custom pieces as well, with cutouts for greater ankle mobility, increased heel padding for the pounding he put them through, and aggressive soles for maximum traction. The custom work was expensive, according to Ace, especially considering the rate at which Impact wore out boots. He burned through at least four pairs per year, on average, and three times as many soles. But Elias said the expense was justified.
Thinking of Elias coaxed Impact's lips into the closest approximation of a smile they'd assumed in days. Elias had always taken care of him. Always. He was more of a father to Impact than Savior ever had been, more than he ever could have been. Nikki didn't know how lucky she was.
The smile flattened out, and Impact looked over at the dark trunks beside him and the faint line of the path disappearing into the deeper shadows of the woods.
"Rabbit—Command," Mos said over the com in Impact's ear. "Give us another round, kid."
Mos was coordinating the op from Kate's command center, so he'd chosen the code names. Impact's was supposed to annoy him, he was certain, but he wasn't letting it. He was a key part of this op. He didn't want his focus to waver, even though his task was painfully simple.
He lowered the goggles into position and switched them on, transforming night into day for his eyes. Then he uncoiled from his crouch and tapped his earpiece as he started to run. "Rabbit en route."
Impact accelerated onto the trail and into the dark woods, every smooth trunk and rustling fern clearly visible thanks to his night-vision specs. The goggles were useful but not necessary. He could have done this without them, despite the cloudy, moonless night. He'd run the island's trails so many times he knew every twist and turn, every raised root and hidden depression like they were part of him. He reacted to them instinctively now, even at his steadily increasing speed.
His charge built quickly, the kinetic envelope forming around him as he ran, enabling the incredible speed that fueled it. The power swelled as he raced down the trail, banking around every turn as smoothly as he could to keep the charge building steadily. He itched to manipulate the strengthening field surrounding him, to push the limits of what he'd learned, to take the turn onto the trail spur that would lead him to the bluff so he could try yet again to master the impossible, but he resisted the urge. He wasn't out here to test his limits. He was out here to test Gideon's theory.
He was out here as bait.
So far being bait meant running circuit after circuit of the island, building a charge and then stopping to let it dissipate gradually while Mos and Padre watched for signs of activity from their respective perches—Mos from the command center, Padre from the church steeple. He'd made three circuits already with zero response from their visitors across the water.
Movement on either side of the trail competed for his attention as he ran, but at this speed he barely had time to register the motion before he was dozens of meters past it. It was just the wind, he knew. His imagination was the only thing giving it dark claws and murderous intentions. But that knowledge didn't stop his gaze from darting back and forth at every swaying branch and leaf.
He left the woods as he neared the southern bend, crossing a broad clearing in the space of a single breath before racing into the sparse tree cover on the other side. He was pushing hard this time, harder than he had on his previous circuits. He may not have the time or luxury to test his own limits on this op, but that didn't mean he had to be idle. There was one thing he could test without sparing any focus at all. All he had to do was build his charge high enough and listen.
He'd tried to draw out the voice on his previous circuits with no success, which told him what he needed was a bigger charge. Every time he'd heard the new voice in his head, the voice he suspected was Kate's, he'd been pushing himself to the breaking point.
Impact rounded the southern tip of the island where the trail left the woods to trace the edge of the rocky shoreline, his tension level spiking as he raced across the open ground. He put thoughts of Kate's newfound ability out of his head and hardened his focus to a razor's edge. This was where he was most exposed. This section of the track was in one of several sensor dead-zones on the island where Mos couldn't track him, and the forested hills rising unevenly between the water and the church blocked Padre's line of sight. On this back section of the trail, Impact was on his own.
Keeping his speed steady and his eyes on the path ahead, Impact fought down his imagination as he ran, reminding himself fear was a weakness. Besides, he was invulnerable at speed. Even if something was waiting to pounce from the green-tinted landscape streaking past, it couldn't hurt him.
He covered the back stretch quickly and started accelerating again as he neared the clearing that would give him a brief view of the church again.
That's when the attack came. Not from the side, where a sudden movement drew his eye, but from the front.
A tree dropped silently into his path, too close for him to avoid, and he crashed through it, sending a spray of splintered wood out into the night as he blasted through. He barely felt the impact, but it still cost him. The envelope absorbed the force, but the loss of energy caused him to stumble, nearly losing his footing entirely as he tried to adjust to the sudden change in speed. He'd trained for this, however. He regained his balance quickly and started accelerating without looking back, trying to build up his speed and resistance before—
He saw the hunched form streak toward him from the front, and he pushed hard for more speed, but it wasn't enough. The dark figure slammed into his side, slashing at his back and sending them both careening into one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. This time Impact gave instead of the tree. He hit hard as the weak envelope crumbled, caroming off the thick trunk to tumble and skid into the clearing in a cloud of loose dirt and stinging pain.
Ears ringing, Impact took a steadying breath and felt something wet running down his side from his back. He didn't feel any pain there, which scared him.
Shock. You're in shock, he told himself.
He lifted his head from the dirt, but he saw only blackness and felt a sharp burn over his left eye. The goggles.
He pulled the crushed goggles from his head, grunting at the stab of pain where they'd cut into his brow, but his vision didn't improve much. The darkness was heavier to his eyes after the unnatural night vision. He could barely make out the dark shape of his attacker lying on the torn earth a few meters away.
"Rabbit, report," Elias said over the com. His tone said this wasn't the first time he'd called for a response. "Talk to me, son. Can you move?"
"OK. I'm OK," Impact said after a tap of the earpiece. "I—"
STOP! God, make him stop! A voice thundered in Impact's head, obliterating his train of thought.
It was the voice. It was Kate. It had to be.
Kate? he thought. He didn't know if she could hear him, but he tried anyway. This is Impact. Who are you ta
lk—
Impact? The surprise was clear in her voice, which sounded so different in his head. No wonder he hadn't recognized her before. You—run. You have to run. He's not alone. They're coming. Run! NOW!
He started to question, but then he heard it. Something was moving through the woods toward him. Multiple somethings—and they were moving fast.
RUN!
Impact pushed off the ground but froze halfway to his feet. A hunched figure was crouched right in front of him, a figure he barely recognized in the darkness.
"Gideon?"
Gideon's hood fell away as he twitched his head to the side, his red eye glowing in the darkness toward the woods. Then he threw back his head and roared.
"Incoming! Multiple contacts," Mos barked over the com. "Rabbit, move!"
Impact forced his eyes away from Gideon and lurched into motion. From the corner of his eye he saw Gideon move at the same time, but he didn't look to see which way the man was leaping. He forced his legs into a run, tensing in anticipation of the attack he knew he wouldn't be fast enough to avoid.
No attack came as he accelerated across the clearing and into the darkness of the trees on the other side. His feet knew the path he couldn't see, and they didn't fail him as he navigated the sharp dips and curves of the last copse before his destination. He sensed more than saw movement in the woods around him, but he kept his focus on the church he could finally make out through the trees, and on outpacing whatever was chasing him.
He broke from the trees and raced toward the church where Elias and Coop were waiting with weapons raised. He slowed as he approached them, knowing he'd left any pursuit well behind, but they opened fire with their suppressed rifles as soon as he passed between them.
Impact skidded on the slick grass near the garden as he stopped, looking back to see a dark shape crash to the ground halfway across the clearing, cut down by the nearly silent combined fire from the two men on the ground and the one on the church roof behind him. Back near the tree line, another dark shape lay motionless near the mouth of the trail.
"Alpha—Command. Multiple contacts at your eleven and two," Mos said over the com. His tone was steady and measured, which meant he was all business, which was not an encouraging sign.
"Friendly or tango?" Elias asked, his tone matching Mos's, his focus and sights fixed on the dark tree line.
"Unknown."
"Padre?" Elias asked.
"No visual."
Impact scanned the tree line but saw nothing.
"Padre, call it," Elias ordered, dropping to one knee and settling back into a more stable position. Coop followed his lead.
Impact twitched to do something, anything, but his orders were clear. When and if they made contact, he was to hold behind the line. If Gideon was right, the fight would come to him.
He reached back to feel for the wound causing the blood to run down his back, but he found none—just his slashed pack and water bottle. He let out a relieved breath that stuttered when a figure burst from the tree cover directly ahead.
The dark creature moved with disturbing speed—nowhere near Impact's own, but still far faster than he'd anticipated. It charged from the trail mouth into the clearing, closing on them rapidly.
Impact looked to Elias and Coop, who shifted their aim—
"Hold fire!" Padre snapped.
Impact looked back at the creature just in time to see it lose its footing and crash into the ground. Only then did he see the second figure right behind it.
"Command, now!" Elias ordered.
The heavy floodlights on the corners of the church snapped on, bathing the kill zone in light.
The second creature stood all the way up, its half human side markedly pale in the harsh light. Then it lunged forward in a brutal blur, slashing its alien claw across the first creature's legs as it tried to rise.
The wounded creature's howl was an ear-splitting mix of fury and pain, but it wasn't done fighting. It threw itself toward its attacker, snapping powerful jaws on empty air as Gideon smoothly stepped aside, caught the creature by the back of the neck in his alien hand, and—
Impact looked away, but the grinding snap was clearly audible, as was Gideon's ripping roar as he continued to tear at his beaten opponent. Impact swallowed hard and made himself look back at the sickening scene. He wouldn't be weak. He couldn't be.
Gideon eventually slowed then dropped to his knees, his back to the light. He knelt there, his bowed form casting a spell of silence that didn't break until Mos spoke over the com.
"Friendly approaching—ten o'clock."
Elias and Coop let their rifles dip slightly as Cole strode from the trees, a dark body draped over his shoulder. His casual gait as he crossed the kill zone said clearly that he believed the danger was past. He passed Gideon, barely glancing over at the carnage, and crossed the field to Elias and Coop. He dropped the alien body on the ground at their feet without a word and rolled his neck, producing a series of pops loud enough to be breaking bone. He was bleeding from a gash running the length of his forearm, but he didn't seem to care. Why would he? The gash would be nothing more than a scar within the hour, thanks to his ability.
Impact fingered the cut over his own eye, wincing at the sting. Not for the first time, he envied the power Cole seemed to take for granted.
Elias stood and spoke into the com. "Command?"
"All clear."
"Clear," Padre added from the roof behind them.
"Two more in the woods," Cole growled. "One the boy did. The other…" he nodded over his shoulder toward Gideon, who was approaching slowly, pulling his coat closed as if to conceal the blood covering his clothes.
Impact stepped closer, his gaze drawn to the sharp, vicious lines of the alien creature's body. Even in death it looked dangerous. The silence from the others told him he wasn't alone in his fascination.
"I appreciate your restraint," Gideon said, his low voice sounding raw and pained. "I would not have laid blame had you fired on me."
Elias nodded in acceptance. "You were right. Your alien side wasn't concerned with us. It wanted them." He tipped his chin toward the creature on the ground.
"As relieved as I am, that information pales in comparison to tonight's other revelation," Gideon said. "Like the one inside me, these creatures are indeed drawn to genesis energy. It drives them to frenzy."
Impact felt an involuntary shiver knowing he'd been the target of the creature at his feet.
"Not enough," Cole grunted, still ignoring the blood dripping off his fingertips.
"What do you mean?" Padre asked. As usual, Impact hadn't heard him approach. He hadn't even heard the darker man climb down off the roof.
"Lot more than these four have been gathering across the water," Cole said, spitting on the dead alien before looking out over the trees to the east. "If the boy was whipping them into such a frenzy, where'd they go?"
"We need to find out," Gideon said. He met Cole's eye, and after a second Cole nodded and headed back toward the woods.
Gideon looked to Elias. "We need to warn Ace."
Elias was moving toward the church before he finished, tapping his earpiece. "Mos, do you copy?"
Padre fell in beside him, leaving Impact with Coop and Gideon.
Impact pulled his earpiece out and frowned, sharing a look with Coop that told him he wasn't the only one confused.
"These things are fast, but not like me," he said. "They couldn't keep up with a shuttle."
"No," Gideon replied. "But they don't give up a chase easily."
"They would be heading here, though," Impact said. "If they're drawn to the energy, they're coming to me. Nikki doesn't generate it anymore."
Gideon looked up at him, and Impact got a cold feeling in his stomach from the look in both the man's eyes.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, she does," Gideon said, holding Impact's gaze for a second before looking to the east. "She has changed though. Now that her brother has no body to absorb it, the greater
part of the energy she generates has nowhere to go."
"And that's bad, I take it," Coop said.
Gideon looked over at him, and Impact was glad that gaze wasn't directed his way. "I'm afraid it is worse. Much worse."
Chapter 27
Nikki
Nikki had seen a few pre-Event movies, the kind made with cameras, digital effects, and actors, and she was less than impressed, mainly because of the unfathomable waste that went into the making. She'd heard the stories, but she still had trouble imagining a Hollywood overrun with endless studios, labs, companies, and agencies all devoted to making movies, each with their own specialty. And, worst of all, actors—people who were paid fortunes just to dress up and play pretend for the cameras.
The waste was mind-boggling. Nikki just couldn't wrap her brain around it. Every time she tried, she started thinking about all the good that money could have done spread around the free zones. Granted, there hadn't been any free zones back then, but she'd bet her unbeatable seat for the show tonight that there'd been plenty of down-and-outs who could have benefited. That's just how the world worked. If you had a lot of something in one place, then somebody, somewhere, didn't have enough.
If there was one good thing to come out of the Event, it was the collapse of the greedy old behemoth that was the movie-making industry. Of course, the towns that relied on movie money were some of the hardest hit in the days following the Event. They had a surplus of people with high-dollar skill sets who were about as useful as nipples on a chicken when survival was on the line. No surprise most of those people ended up in the first free zones.
Hollywood didn't drop off the map completely though. Instead it adapted. It evolved. One of the smallest studios—known for a series of snoozy science documentaries—took a single piece of experimental research equipment and remade the industry. They were the first to attempt to record a story directly out of someone's brain—and they were laughed at by the big dogs. But as theaters Stateside emptied, or morphed into shelters, the major studios realized overseas markets alone couldn't support them, not when it cost the price of a small island—and took the population of one—to make a single flick. Meanwhile, the little guy started cranking out feature films from a one-room office with a handful of people and a microscopic fraction of the budget. The laughter stopped, and the movie world changed forever.
