by Jacob Whaler
“I said they deserve a chance. Some of them may find a way to survive.” Qaara looks east, in the direction of the City. “If my theory about the Cloud is right, the attack-helis are going to fall out of the sky in seconds. Higher electronics will no longer function. This army is the perfect way, the only way, we’ll ever get safe passage back into the City. No Peruvian Mafia or Fringe thugs will bother us if we’re riding down Fifth Avenue atop a tank. It’s the only chance we’ll get to let the world know what’s coming. The only chance to save civilization on the world's terms, not Mercer’s.”
“Lots of ifs.” Jedd slips his fingers into Qaara’s hand and grabs Ricky's arm, pulling them both close. “I don’t care about saving civilization or the world. I don’t care about Moses. I just want to save my friends.”
Qaara turns and pulls him close until their foreheads touch. “Then stay with me.”
On the left flank, a cargo truck full of ordinance erupts in flames with multiple secondary concussions. Cries of terror rise from the field.
Moses appears behind them. “You’re not going to desert me in my hour of need?”
“Whatever gave you the idea we’d do that?” Jedd surveys the crowded vehicles behind him. “Now, let me give you some advice.”
Moses nods, suddenly meek.
“Tell everyone to spread out. Get the anti-aircraft trucks and tanks into position and ready to fire. The assault is about to begin.”
“I won’t forget your loyalty to our cause.” Moses squeezes Jedd’s shoulder, slaps Ricky on the back, turns and runs to his truck, speaking into a large black radio he presses against his lips.
More explosions rock the field.
“When does the light show begin?” Jedd leans in close to Qaara. “If we’re going to survive, we need that EM scramble effect you were talking about.”
Qaara turns to face west. “The sun has dropped below the horizon. Dusk is upon us. If it’s going to happen, it will happen soon.”
“And if not?”
“Then at least we know we tried.”
The low-frequency sound of rotors once again resonates deep in Jedd’s chest cavity. His heart picks up the rhythm, and it beats in unison.
And then a swarm of attack-helis pops above the horizon, arranged in four groups. The two outer groups break away. The two inner groups spread.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” Ricky consults his jax, its holoscreen winking in and out, “that’s their classic tactic. They’ll spread out, enclose us in a ring, interlink targeting vectors. And then unleash the plasma lasers. The good news is, we have a few more minutes before the final blow.”
The outer edges of the army fan out on the plain. Massive barrels of anti-aircraft guns slowly rise from truck beds. Hundreds of men and women in assorted army fatigues take cover behind scattered tanks.
“Shouldn’t we find something to hide behind?” Jedd points at a transport truck ten meters away.
Ricky shakes his head. “Ever seen plasma lasers?”
“Nope.”
Ricky waves his hand over the field. “Veins of liquid lightning drop from the sky, searching for the shortest path through human DNA to the ground. Hiding won’t help.”
“Good to know,” Jedd says. “So all we can do is watch and wait.”
“Pretty much,” Ricky says.
The four groups of attack-helis separate.
Jedd slides off the gyropod and moves to Qaara’s side. “Sorry for the mess I got you into.”
“I was just about to say the same to you.” She takes his hand in hers and squeezes.
“Hey, what about me?” Ricky fakes a glare.
“We both owe you an apology,” Jedd says. “And our lives. If we escape."
The attack-helis fly in a pattern, taking positions in a wide ring around the army. Jedd estimates the ships are two hundred meters off the ground.
“Fire!” Moses yells.
There’s a deafening roar as two dozen antiaircraft guns mounted on the back of trucks start blasting.
“What are the chances they’ll hit one out of the sky?” Jedd says.
“Not likely,” Ricky says. “I’m guessing they've already engaged their anti-proximity algorithms. Bullets and shells are relatively slow-moving objects, easily dodged.”
As he speaks, the sky is dotted with tiny black explosions close to the attack-helis, bouncing and bobbing from side to side.
The sky darkens. A few stars appear.
One by one, green grid lines light up on the undersides of the attack-helis. A low-frequency whine mixes with the thump, thump, thump of their rotors. Slowly, blue tubes protrude from the sides of each ship, the sizzle-pop of static electricity dancing around their open mouths.
“Here it comes,” Ricky says. “Thirty seconds to go.” He pulls out his jax and points it in the air. “I’m going to try to stream this on my Mesh-site, for posterity’s sake.” His jax takes on a red glow.
The low-frequency whine builds to a crescendo. Antiaircraft guns flash in all directions. Green ships dance like hornets in the sky, avoiding the projectiles. Neon lines of blue light jump from the tubes on the sides of the ships, connecting each to its neighbor, tying them together into a single ring of fire.
Ricky drops to his knees, still holding the jax aloft.
Now or never, Jedd thinks.
He turns and pulls Qaara closer. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” Qaara looks up through long eyelashes.
The red glow of Ricky’s jax starts to blink and fade.
As Qaara stares up at him, Jedd pulls in a deep breath, finds his courage and starts. “I just want to be certain you know how I feel. About you.”
“What do you mean?” Qaara’s head cocks to the side.
“It’s hard to put into words, but I want you to know—”
Qaara’s eyes wander from Jedd and stare past him into the twilight. And then they grow wide.
The dark sky glows blood red.
“Hey, what happened?” Ricky shakes his jax. “I lost the connection to the Mesh.” He looks up at Jedd, sudden understanding in his face. “I think—”
A massive explosion rocks the battlefield.
An attack-heli bursts into orange fire and crashes to the ground trailing blue smoke.
The cheers of the army can be heard through the chaos.
“Keep shooting!” Moses yells.
Two more ships fall. The blue ring of fire sputters out. Lights fade on the ships. The low-frequency whine suddenly stops.
And then, in unison, all the ships fall to the ground, like marionettes cut from their strings.
47
SLEEP
They leave Rika’s curry uneaten on the table.
After the horror of the evening, Luca and the girls don’t have the energy to give the five bodies a proper burial. The best they can do is drag them to an indentation in the ground and pile a covering of boards and tarps over the top. Escaping north, they travel through the night along the only road out of the town, necks sore from staring up at rivers of light in the sky.
And then, as suddenly as they appeared, the lights die away, leaving the girls in darkness and wondering what it all means.
Their feet drag as they walk all night, driven to get away from the scene of so much killing. With the first light of dawn, Luca stops by the side of the road.
She listens for voices but hears nothing.
The Voice in the sky is closer, much closer, but it says nothing, as if it’s sleeping. The other girls don’t speak or share thoughts. They keep together in a group, following her at a distance. Even the small animals and plants have abandoned her, not speaking in the rich textures of color and sound she craves.
Are they afraid of the monster she has become?
And worst of all, Rika’s voice no longer floats in Luca’s mind. The loneliness prompts Luca to switch off the part of her mind that listens, something many of the other girls in the group have done long ago.
&n
bsp; For the first time in her life, Luca is bathed in utter silence.
Desperately hungry but unable to eat, nausea fills her belly. Luca tries to avoid thinking, but thoughts force their way onto the stage of her mind, demanding answers, refusing to leave.
What have I done? Am I a murderer?
She had no choice. Killing Rika was the only way to save the others. Luca saw it in her friend’s mind. After Rika killed Zero and Giraffe, it was her plan to kill the whole group, one by one, until none remained but her and Luca.
She was forced to destroy a life to save many others.
The image of Rika’s Core, floating in Luca’s hands, comes back into her mind. A shimmering ribbon of light floating in the darkness. Luca remembers the warm feel of it in her hands as she ripped it apart.
Was it right to take Rika’s life?
Should I have left Rika alone? Simply walked away and let her keep killing?
And the most difficult question of all:
Why was the instant of Rika’s death so incredibly . . . satisfying?
The questions are too deep. The answers too hard.
For hours, Luca follows the old road out of Rika’s village with no idea where it goes or whether she will be able to find food or shelter. It winds north, close to the ocean.
Behind her, one of the girls in the group drops from exhaustion. Others sit down, too tired to move. They look to Luca, their eyes awash in fear and confusion.
One of them breaks the silence.
“We’re tired. Can’t we rest?”
Kneeling beside them, Luca nods. “Sleep now. I’ll wake you later.” Before she can say more, the girls slump to the ground, falling asleep as their heads hit their backpacks.
Another question arises in Luca’s mind, one she hasn’t even thought about since the rush to leave Rika’s house.
Where are we going?
For the first time in hours, she reopens her thoughts to the outside world and listens, afraid there will be nothing but silence.
Voices bombard her mind like bullets fired at close range. Thousands of them churn over, around and through each other like scared children. And they’re in Fukushima, having just arrived by air transport from all parts of the world. Luca digs into the chaos and sorts out a few threads of thought.
When does the conference start?
When is Mercer coming?
What were the rivers of light in the sky?
Is this the end of the world?
Luca has no idea what the voices are discussing.
One thing is clear. The voices aren’t worried about food and shelter. They have plenty of both. She sees buildings, mostly round domes, arranged in a circle to form the shape of a wheel and spokes. Somewhere near the ocean.
Over and over, she hears the words Facility and Cloud.
If she keeps travelling in the same direction, will they find the people? Luca doesn’t know. But it feels like they are getting close.
Maybe the people will share a bit of their food. Maybe the people won’t hate them.
Finding comfort in this thought, Luca lies on the grass.
Sleep overtakes her.
48
THE PROPHET
Fine ash rains from the sky.
Jedd stares into the chaos.
Twenty-four attack ships lie on the ground wings and rotors at odd angles like broken bones, some in flames, others belching black smoke.
The tanks immediately open fire, pummeling the metallic carcasses on the ground.
In a moment of delirium, old habits take over. Like ants spewing out of their nest to consume an abandoned peach, the men and women of Moses’ army pour over the spoils of battle. Eight living crew members in bright red jumpsuits are yanked from the wreckage.
All the prisoners are collected in the center of the battlefield and made to stand in a firing line to be shot by machine guns. Moses eyes them, a smirk on his face and the barrel of his long rifle resting in his hand.
Jedd and Ricky hold their breath. They don’t move, flooded by memories of the day they first met the old man.
“I’m not going to stand here and watch them kill the survivors!” Qaara yells.
“The whole army is in a killing frenzy.” Jedd reaches for Qaara’s arm. “I’ve seen it before. Try to stop it, and they’ll kill you, too.”
“This is war.” Ricky shakes his head. “It’s the way things are done in the Zone.”
“Not if I can help it.” Qaara breaks free and sprints for the firing squad before Jedd can stop her.
He runs after her. “Qaara, don’t do this!”
Genetically altered muscle strength gives her an unfair advantage. As Jedd lags behind, she’s already in front of Moses and the rest of the firing squad, raising her arms. Moses slowly brings the stock of the long rifle up to his chin, points it at her chest and looks down its sights.
By the time Jedd arrives, Moses’ finger rests on the trigger.
With eyes focused only on Qaara, he ignores the danger, runs to her side and turns to face the old man.
She looks into Jedd’s eyes and smiles. Her hand squeezes his.
“What are you doing?” Moses looks down the barrel.
“This isn’t the way to fight a war, Moses. Not if you want to win.” Qaara takes a step forward, pulling Jedd with her.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the sky, Moses.” Qaara points up.
Moses lowers the rifle. A crimson dome shines above his head. Ash floats down like cotton.
“I see it.” Moses lifts his long rifle back to his chin. “These people are from the City. They came here to kill us. I intend to kill them as the first payment for the millions of lives the City people took from us.” He turns to speak to the men next to him holding the machine guns. “Get ready to fire. If these two don’t move, then shoot them, too."
Jedd swallows hard and casts a glance at Qaara. “Moses doesn’t play games,” he whispers.
Qaara shakes her head. “Don’t you understand, Moses? It’s here."
“It?”
“The Cloud, Moses. It’s alive.”
His stares at the sky. “What do you mean, alive?”
“It’s a living entity, and it’s watching. You. Me. All of us.”
Moses’ eyes narrow. “I’m just giving these pilots what they deserve. Justice. Now, for the last time, out of my way.”
“You’ll have to kill me.” Qaara opens a palm to the tiny flakes of ash floating down. “These are the probes, sent down from the sky. To decide who will live and who will die. The Cloud isn’t going to like it if you kill innocent people.”
“They’re not innocent.”
“They’re unarmed and completely under your control.” Qaara glares at the old man. “If you kill them,” she looks up at the sky and back to the firing squad, “the Cloud won’t forget.”
“Ready!” Moses yells.
The soldiers lift their guns.
“Aim!”
The soldiers sight down the barrels.
Qaara doesn’t flinch. Jedd closes his eyes.
“Fire!”
Bullets rip through the air.
Nobody falls down. Moses stands with his mouth hanging open, glaring at the line of soldiers. “I ordered you to kill them all. Why do you disobey?”
One of the soldiers lowers his gun. “Because she’s right.” His eyes go up to the red heavens above. “As soon as the lights appeared, the ships fell from the sky. It’s a miracle. A sign of approval. We got to listen to her, Moses. Like she said, it’s wrong to kill these pilots.”
All the soldiers drop their guns on the ground and turn to look at Moses.
“Lock up the prisoners. Prepare to move out.” Moses walks away.
*******
“Incredible.” Jedd shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him do that before.”
“Do what?” Qaara says.
“Back down. Especially to a woman.”
“He didn’t back down.” Qaara look
s at the dead jax in her hand. “He simply saw the truth and accepted it.”
“You have him wrapped around your little finger. Not just Moses. All of them.” Ricky laughs. “This is going to be interesting."
Jedd folds his arms across his chest. “You made all that stuff up, right? About the Cloud being alive and all these little snowflakes of ash being part of it, watching us, deciding who will live and who will die?”
“OK.” Qaara smiles. “Maybe I exaggerated a little. For dramatic effect. But there was something on the memory cube that Mercer gave me. A reason to believe the Cloud might actually be a living entity.”
“That’s absurd.” Jedd’s palm opens to catch a flake of ash. "From what you told me, it’s just a bunch of space dust.”
“And DNA.” Qaara glances at the red sky. “And don’t forget what it ultimately produces.”
“The LUCA?” Ricky says. “Last Universal Common Ancestor?”
“Life begets life,” Qaara says.
Jedd brushes a layer of ash off his sleeve. “But the part about the Cloud deciding who should live and who should die? What was that about?”
“That’s the part I made up.” Qaara lowers her voice and laughs. “To give Moses a reason to stop killing. To play on his superstitions.”
“But what do you think?” Jedd lifts his hand. A speck of ash floats down to rest on his open palm. “Is the Cloud watching us? Looking for something?"
“It’s possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it.” Qaara scoops a handful of fuzzy ash off the ground. “The Cloud moves through the galaxy. The same thing must be happening to other planets, maybe millions of them, in its path. Could be just making the rounds, checking each planet to see what sort of life has appeared since the last time it passed by. If it isn’t happy about what it finds, it wipes the slate clean.”
Ricky draws a circle in the dust. “And the same thing keeps going on, over and over, until the Cloud finds what it’s looking for.”
“Exactly,” Qaara says.
