The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  “I can’t talk in detail, but there was an incident,” he replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he helped program the launch protocols into the Quantum Ares workstation. “But don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  Kat stepped away from the console. “Finish up here. I’m going to the Nandi chamber. Parks and Perry are on their way.” She left the room.

  “No, don’t give me that crap,” Luke protested from the other end of the line. “It’s all over the tellies here; they say someone was shot in Zenith—someone important!”

  Lucius had to stop working. “What do you mean on the tellies? How the hell did they find out?”

  “I don’t know! They haven’t said much, but they’re making a big deal over here. Please tell me it wasn’t that little guy’s mother—the director.”

  “No!” Lucius said and looked out the chamber window at the chest of the enormous Quantum Ares. A sudden ring in the computer told him there was someone in the bay below. “Hold on.” He put his phone down on the console and picked up the handset connecting him to the bay.

  “Barnes?” Garros was at the other end. “I don’t know if they told you but Governor Heath is on his way to Zenith. Someone told him about Dr. Logan and he wants to blow us open.”

  “Who the hell did that?”

  “Lucius?” Luke’s voice bled from his phone. “Lucius!”

  “I don’t know. We’re launching this very instant. Erin’s down here but we can’t find Ezra. He was supposed to—”

  “Garros, we are ready to launch. Is Ezra down there with you? Who else is coming?”

  “Blanchard is not here!” Garros said. “Go to the Atlas’ chamber, unlock the Creux and open the gates. Erin is climbing into the Egg as we speak. We’re launching right now.”

  “What about Ezra, and the other one?”

  “If Ezra isn’t there when Erin and I are outside, he’s not coming,” Garros said, and Lucius could tell it was hard for him to say those words. “Here’s what I need you to do: I don’t know if Jena or Poole are coming with us, so prepare both of them for launch right now.”

  “Dammit, Jade and Rose aren’t fully programmed yet—neither of them have an aural link set up!”

  “I don’t give a damn, Barnes, just make sure the blasted things can be piloted! Same thing with Nandi; even if Ezra doesn’t make it, I’ll drag Nandi out of here and hide it somewhere outside—it’s extremely important that Governor Heath doesn’t see that it’s still here. Tell Kat to go look for Ezra. He has five minutes. I’m out. Thank you, Barnes, and take care.”

  Garros hung up. The blood had rushed to his head, making it ache. He felt acid bubbling in his stomach, and sweat beading on his bald head. He was so dizzied by frustration, he didn’t hear Luke say “Lucius, just talk to me when you can. I love you,” before hanging up.

  Ю

  Ezra no longer cared whom to choose. Not being able to say good-bye to his mother had drained him in unexpected ways. Taking the arguably unnecessary detour back to Administration only to find his mother’s office locked again had been a huge mistake, and it wasn’t until he found Tessa back in the pilots’ lounge that he finally understood how much it would cost him.

  “Ezra, where were you?” Ignoring her, he ran up the stairs. “Ezra! Erin and Garros are already gone! You’re too late!”

  He stopped so suddenly he almost slipped. “What do you mean?”

  Tessa caught up with him halfway up the first flight of stairs. “Kat came looking for you five minutes ago—she said Erin and Garros had just taken off. Where were you!”

  His throat tightened to choke him. The skin around his nose ring began to itch again. “What do you mean—?”

  “You were supposed to be in your Creux ten minutes ago!”

  He shook his head and ran back down the stairs. Ezra no longer cared about the choice, or about being accompanied by Jena or Poole; all he wanted was to not be left behind. He had been given a chance to save Zenith, to save humanity; he wouldn’t let it slip away like this.

  “Ezra, they’re gone!” she yelled, but he ignored her. Even if he had to break Nandi’s chains himself, even if he had to teach a giant how to fly, he’d make his escape.

  They wouldn’t leave without me, he repeated in his mind, trying to convince himself that Erin had been bluffing. Ezra’s legs were ready to collapse, and he could taste blood with every deep breath he took.

  Hope has to be the last thing to die.

  He could still make it.

  Ezra reached the junction between the main building and the Compatibility labs. He was only a few rooms away, he was only—

  His eyes suddenly caught sight of a large and very loud group of people—outsiders, as he hadn’t seen any of them before—making their way from the main hallway. Many of them held cameras and microphones, all pointed at two central figures:

  One was his mother.

  The other was Governor Heath.

  Tara Blanchard suddenly looked at Ezra with eyes that told him she didn’t expect to see him. He only had a moment of sinking realization, understanding that the last thing he’d remember of his mother was that expression of surprise and deep disappointment.

  Before Governor Heath could recognize him as the pilot he had publicly humiliated one day earlier, a hand grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him away from the scene.

  Kat’s grip was extremely strong, as were her words. Ezra had never imagined he’d hear a voice like hers distorted so much by anger. “You’re the last one. Again. As always. The other three are gone! Where the hell were you?”

  “I was—”

  “Shut up, I don’t care. You damn idiot. You goddamn idiot! Governor Heath is out there! You may have just blown the entire thing!”

  Ezra couldn’t breathe. What did it all mean? Had they really left him?

  Kat shoved him against the wall and called the elevator that would take him to the docking bay. “Listen to me. The door of the bay is open. I’m going to unlock Nandi in one minute. You go down there, you get in the Egg, and you run. Understood? You get the hell out of here and you save us all.”

  The elevators door opened. She pushed him in.

  “Thank you, Kat,” he said weakly, feeling a strange kind of relief in knowing that maybe he had not blown his one chance to really make a difference. She only nodded, and the elevator doors closed.

  He stepped inside the enormous docking bay. There was a notable difference this time: there were fewer Creuxen, and there was a huge opening at the far end of the bay followed by a ramp leading up: the gate to the outside, open for him.

  Ezra ran towards Nandi. Even the Minotaur seemed to have been desperately waiting for him. There were no beats or hesitations this time. Ezra took the platform up to Nandi’s navel and into the Apse. He climbed inside the dry Egg and closed the door. He saw the white dot blinking between his feet and tried to synchronize.

  He couldn’t.

  He was too tense. He was too tired. He couldn’t relax and let his mind slip into Besoe Nandi.

  It was so quiet. The aural links with Zenith weren’t open anymore. He couldn’t hear anything except his heavy breathing, could only smell the stench of his sweat in the capsule. Come on, he told himself.

  You’ve done this a million times. You’ve done it. Show everyone you’re not a child. Show everyone even someone like Ezra Blanchard, a mediocre mind and a mediocre body, a shame on his family, a useless fool, could transform into something big—into something capable of reshaping the future.

  “One: I am not my Creux. Two: My body is not in danger of infection or death. Three: I am not a killer: the laani is not a creature of the Earth; Four: I am fighting for humanity’s future, and I’m both its first and last lines of defense. Five: This is what I was born to do; for every body a soul, and for every Creux a pilot.”

  . . .

  . . . not every labyrinth has a way out . . .

  . . .

  Then, he was looking at the world through
the eyes of Besoe Nandi, fifty feet above the ground, encased in an indestructible body of red.

  It is time to fly, Nandi said.

  Ezra looked at Barnes and Kat desperately working on the console inside the docking chamber. Something in the machines told them he had finally synchronized. They couldn’t talk to him, but they knew he was watching. Barnes gave him a thumbs-up and typed into the computer. They only needed to unlock Nandi so he could run out and join the others—

  A third person entered the room.

  It was Tessa.

  He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see surprise clear in Kat and Barnes’ eyes upon the unexpected arrival. Barnes walked towards her as Kat continued typing into the computer.

  Tessa reached back as if to grab something from her back pocket.

  She pulled a pistol from her waistband. A gray pistol. Dr. Yuri’s pistol.

  Ezra wanted to scream when the gun went off the first time, and Barnes fell dead, a hole in his forehead creating a pool of blood on the floor.

  Nandi still couldn’t move.

  He couldn’t do anything but watch as Tessa pointed the gun at Kat. There was a moment of clear hesitation in her, but she chose to give Tessa her back and liberate Nandi. The moment Ezra finally felt Nandi’s body unlock, releasing all of the Creux’s weight on him, Tessa pulled the trigger.

  Kat was looking at Nandi’s eyes when the bullets hit her in the back, and her blood splattered on the glass window.

  Ezra screamed, and he could almost hear Nandi roar in unison.

  It’s time to fly.

  “Blanchard!” Garros screamed into the aural link. “Ezra, where are you! We need to leave—”

  Tessa looked at him through the glass and shook her head as if disappointed in him. He didn’t know what it was that held him back from punching the window with Nandi’s powerful fist, and crushing the traitorous bitch in the rubble.

  It’s time to fly.

  Then, it was like the surreal wake of a nightmare. Ezra had to turn away from the scene and run. Nandi’s heavy footsteps made the whole bay tremble. The Minotaur ran through the threshold and up the ramp. It was like he was floating—flying—when he ran up and up for what felt like miles.

  Then, there was light, and the figures of three Creux waiting: silhouettes against the burning day outside.

  Leaving behind chaos that was not likely to ever settle, Besoe Nandi escaped Zenith holding inside it the frail body of Ezra Blanchard, who would never really recover.

  Ю

  The sights and sounds and scents were not unfamiliar, but decidedly new. He opened his eyes to the sky of a new day, the smell of grass bathed in cold dew, an icy wind, and the song of a bird. A setting red sun showered him in sweet heat, and looking up at the colorful sky, he knew not one of these stimuli were caused by a man-made dome.

  These things were nature. Real nature he had never truly known.

  A few feet away from him he saw Besoe Nandi, a red horned giant lying flat on its back as if dead.

  In this oasis of peace, Ezra finally realized that he had escaped from one life, and then from another. The future that lay before him was a mystery, but at least it was there. Through death and through loss and through chaos, he had been placed at the start of a new path: one he knew was darker and more winding than anything behind him.

  Soon, he would take the first step, but for now, all he could do was experience this nature, and hope that maybe one day, thanks to him and the people around him, the rest of humanity would be able to do the same.

  END OF BOOK ONE

  THE STORY CONTINUES IN

  ‘THE UNFINISHED WORLD’

  Epilogue

  For Every Creux A Pilot

  In a world ravaged, one that would never be recognized as the land that it had once been, deep within the earth, far from a diseased and destroyed crust, a group of men and women were hard at work on what had been deemed an impossible task: keeping hope alive.

  “The progress has surpassed my expectations,” a woman said, looking down through a window at the monster being created below.

  “You’re not an optimist, doctor,” a man replied. “It’s understandable, of course.”

  “It has really grown,” she said.

  The thing lying on its back beneath them was a man only in shape. A giant, its skin was gray and thick. She could see the enormous creature breathing heavily, as though its enormity was a handicap and not a strength.

  “It duplicated in size since you saw it last,” the man said. “Its bones are far from settled, so if the dosage continues as planned, it will reach its full size in five weeks. Its muscles are still growing to keep up with the shifting bone structure, so the poor thing is too heavy and still too weak to move.”

  “Is that why it appears to have trouble breathing?”

  “Yes,” the man said. “It will need the machines’ help until the rest of its tissue mutates. The mask is keeping it alive for now.”

  She looked at the mask covering the creature’s face. If it was meant to help the monstrous creature breathe, its design was poor; it seemed protective in nature. More than a mask, it was a helmet that covered its entire head, and it was far too big for its current size. It would grow into it, she knew.

  “Why give the mask such a frightening appearance?” she asked.

  “It is meant to be frightening,” the man said. “Even creatures as dull as the infected can feel fear if confronted with the features of a large predator. Monsters recognize monsters. Of course when it reaches its full size, we will cover him with armor and give it weapons. When Codename Lazarus becomes what he’s destined to become, the laani will tremble.”

  “Project Lazarus . . . ,” she repeated, like the words tasted bitter in her mouth. “I don’t like that name. It implies rebirth. It doesn’t seem appropriate, given our situation.”

  “That’s precisely what we’re trying to achieve with it, isn’t it, doctor?” he said. “Humanity is dead, and Project Lazarus represents its rebirth. But its name isn’t our concern—the creature will likely be renamed.”

  “By whom?”

  “By whomever finds it, once we leave it for the others to wield.”

  A Word from the Author

  I was just sitting down to write most of the companion book when I realized I was missing this final segment—which I was reluctant about writing at all—so here I go.

  If you conform to the basic rules of reading (you square), you’re hopefully reading this section last, and the story is behind you. In the Acknowledgments, I thanked you for taking the risk of giving this book a chance, and now I must thank you for finishing it. I can only hope you’re here, at the end, because you were enjoying yourself, and that the story was to your liking.

  Writing any story is hard enough, but writing a good one sometimes feels like an impossible task, and as the author, an insider in this crazy universe, I cannot tell if I have a winner with The Armor of God. All I know is that I loved writing it, and that knowing that some of you enjoyed it, and maybe thirst for more, makes all the effort and anxieties worth it.

  So . . . are Ezra, Garros, Erin, and Someone Else going to make it to Kerek? Are they going to complete Milos Ravana? What is going to happen with Zenith, and will humanity ever win back their world? Will someone give Tessa a much deserved bitch-slap?

  Nothing can ever be certain, but I’d like you to know that I have every intention of writing The Unfinished World, the sequel, very soon—maybe as soon as 2015. Yes, even if this book is a flop, I’d be happy to finish this story as long as there is one person who wants to know what happens next.

  I shouldn’t ask for more of your help, as you’ve done more than enough for me by finishing this little monster, but if you liked the book, and would like to offer me a little boost, tell your friends about it! Help me out by tweeting about it, sharing on Facebook, writing a review on your blog, writing steamy Ezrandi fan-fiction, making a glorious bonfire in its honor . . .


  It’s all marketing!

  Hell, you can share this very copy if you like; I’m more interested in knowing people are enjoying it than in the greens (though you should know that if I make a ton of money I’ll make a to-scale replica of Besoe Nandi to guard my front door, and that’d be super rad).

  I guess what I’m really asking is: I want to know what people think about this book. If you loved it, write to me and tell me! If you hated it, tell me why . . . and then you go to your corner and think about what you did.

  Once more, thank you so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed The Armor of God, and look forward to the continuation of the story.

  - Diego Valenzuela

  About the Author

  Diego Valenzuela was born in Mexico City in February 1986. He grew up in a bilingual school and spent one year abroad in Dublin, where his passion for reading and writing took flight.

  Even through high school and college, he’s been writing incessantly, and has authored several full length screenplays and two novels. He also runs the pop culture website Wolf in a Gorilla Suit and sings in progressive death metal band Watercolor Butterfly.

  His next novels, Reverie of Gods, Numen, and The Unfinished World (The Armor of God, Book 2) will be published sometime between 2015 and 2016.

  Connect with me online!

  Official Site: diegovalenzuela.org

  E-Mail: diego@diegovalenzuela.org

  Twitter: @TheDamnBeast

  Facebook: /TheDiegoValenzuela

  Facebook Fanpage: /TheArmorOfGodBook

  GoodReads: /TheDamnBeast

  My Blog: wolfinagorillasuit.com