Eradicate
The Ravagers - Episode 5
Alex Albrinck
Fabinarium Publications LLC
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Southwestern Coast, Eastern Territory Subcontinent
Every cell of his being focused on the man he fought, the man called Wesley Cardinal. He lost touch with his traditional senses as his mind stabbed and sliced at his opponent; he was vaguely aware of Wesley’s fear, his abject terror, the realization that he would die. Roddy only knew that he’d pried the gun away when the man’s emotion of hope, dwindling as it was, vanished into nothingness. He felt a primal sense of triumph at that, some deep feeling that he’d thoroughly defeated an opponent, and now all that remained was moving that man from the temporary sleep of unconsciousness to death’s permanent slumber. This man was a threat to those Roddy cared for, and for that, he deserved to—
The ear-shattering report of a gun firing brought him back to his traditional senses outside the mind of his opponent. He sensed his own body for the first time since… well, he didn’t know how long as he’d been so thoroughly engaged. He could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on his exposed neck, could feel the warmth from the rays emanating up from the ground and the sweat dripping from his body, one particular droplet sliding down the bridge of his nose to fall upon the man below. He felt his opponent beneath him, straddled and pinned down, a man of average height but a wiry, surprisingly muscular and powerful frame. Cardinal had been brave to charge him, fearless in the way of men who are confident in their physical prowess.
But Wesley could have no idea that he didn’t stand a chance against Roddy, a physical freak built by years of bizarre medical injections and insane exercise regimens, swollen to levels of bulk and muscularity beyond what ought to be considered normal. And even if he weren’t so physically dominant, Roddy had full command of his growing mental power, a weapon that let him shred the interior resolve and focus of any opponent.
It took only seconds, after the gunshot brought him back, to realize he’d nearly murdered an unarmed man. He lifted his head to look around… and his heart broke.
Mary stared at him with utmost horror, tears streaming down her face, barely able to get the words “Stop, Roddy, please!” from her lips through the sobs. Her steps carried her toward him, slowly… and Roddy understood why.
She was afraid of him. Terrified of what he might do to her.
Or to the two children standing behind her, pale, looks of fear, of disappointment, even embarrassment on their faces.
He’d been around his family only a few minutes and the only thing he’d done was let some hidden monster inside emerge to destroy someone who, obviously, meant far more to them than he could have known.
Something he could have known if he’d stopped long enough to ask.
Behind them all stood another man, one who looked vaguely familiar. That man lowered his arm, and Roddy could still see a small bit of smoke, still smell the residual scent of the powder used to propel the bullet into the sky. The man’s eyes never left him, and Roddy felt in that gaze a protectiveness.
He came to his senses enough to piece it together. One of the men—instinct told him the one who’d fired the weapon—had been with his wife and children for some time, acting as a protector. Perhaps the man had learned of the powers the twins had likely developed and wanted to add himself as another layer of defense to keep the special children safe. The other, whom he hadn’t met, was Wesley Cardinal, a man who had joined them later. In his calls with his parents and Micah, the General had indicated that two men were seen with his family, and he said one of the men looked like a long-time employee of his. Probably Wesley.
Which meant he’d nearly murdered not just an innocent, effectively unarmed man, not just someone who’d worked to keep his family safe and had tried to protect them from a perceived new threat… he’d also nearly killed an employee of his and his parents’ most trusted ally.
Hell of a day, Roddy.
He turned his eyes back to Mary, and the sight of her both melted his heart and crushed his spirit. Seeing her again—even with the new look—resurrected in him the powerful love he’d felt since the day they’d met. The look of terror on her face, the shame at what he’d just done, the fear…
He crawled off the man beneath him and checked his breathing and pulse. Alive. Not great, but still alive. But he’d learned something about Wesley Cardinal in the one-sided brawl just terminated by the sound of the gunshot: the man was a fighter. He’d pull through this. Roddy felt the guilt begin to swarm, the realization of what he should and could have done instead. He should have used his power to make Wesley back off or lower the weapon. He should have realized that Wesley—hell, both of the men who’d charged him in recent minutes—were those spotted on Micah’s security camera network, filmed helping his wife and children escape from the Enclave aboard the giant yacht.
People to thank. Not hurt. Not kill.
The self-doubt kicked in, doubling down on the guilt. Was he a monster?
He bent down and picked up the gun he’d pried away from the unconscious man, fully aware of the eyes on him, vaguely sensing that the one who’d fired the warning shot was slowly leveling the gun at Roddy, ready to fire if necessary.
Roddy safetied the gun and placed it in the man’s waistband. Then he stood up straight and met the angry looks of the four sets of eyes watching him warily. Roddy dusted the mud off himself in an absent-minded gesture, then stopped and stood still, accepting their visual condemnation.
The weapon aimed at him slowly dropped; the man holding it flipped the safety and slid it away. He looked a bit disheveled, dirt on his clothing, and moved unsteadily toward Roddy. Roddy realized their collision, prior to his tangle with Wesley, had left this man wobbly… but still sharp enough to fire a gun to get Roddy back in his own mind. “You about done there, Roddy? We need to get out of here before the truly dangerous threats arrive.”
Roddy heard them in the distance, the rumbling sound and ground-shaking reverberations as the Ravagers toppled old growth trees, the looming, deep silence just beyond, where they’d left nothing alive.
He nodded and moved aside, leaving the path clear for the others. The message, he hoped, was clear: they should go first. If the Ravagers had to catch one of them, it should be Roddy.
The other man and the children started jogging away from the Ravagers, back down the path. But Mary stood there. She shook her head and pointed to Wesley, who remained unconscious on the ground near Roddy’s feet. “Carry him.”
“You’re kidding, right? We’re trying to outrun Ravagers, and they’ve had too much opportunity to gain on us while I was fighting Wesley, and—” He paused; the determined look on her face told him exactly what she thought about her estranged husband being inconvenienced by carrying the man he’d just knocked out cold. “Okay, you’re not kidding.” He sighed, bent down, and picked the man up easily
, hoisting him so as to balance Wesley across his shoulders. He saw the others moving along, noticed the man snag Wesley’s pack as he moved by. He glanced back at Roddy with skepticism, uncertain if the giant man could be trusted. The twins paused and looked back as well, staring at him without making eye contact. Their frightened and confused faces broke his heart. They’d only known him as the man who’d left them behind as babies, from whatever stories Mary might have told of him, and as the man who’d broken their mother’s heart. He felt Wesley’s weight on his shoulders a bit more now; this man had been a better father figure than Roddy, helping them survive this Ravager infected world.
He had a lot of work to do to repair the damage he’d done in just a few minutes.
Mary sprinted past him, and John let her go by, letting her be by her children, no doubt inserting himself between Roddy and the others. It hurt, but Roddy bottled up the emotion. There was no time to grieve now, no time to process emotions, no time to apologize. They could do that later. If they survived.
He ran.
He kept pace despite the extra weight he hauled, pounding along the path the five had made through the brush and tree line on the way in. They slid along smoothly, the scant familiarity with the route and openings in the branches and brush letting them move quickly, staying ahead of the deadly swarm chasing them down. Roddy’s boot hit a rock and his ankle twisted slightly. He pushed through the pain, grimacing, demanding that his ankle work to keep him alive. He tried to ignore the branches, grunting as the limbs brushed against him and scraped against his arms. He shifted Wesley around to make sure the unconscious man experienced none of that, leaning to one side of the path and accepting extra scrapes and scratches to keep Wesley’s skin unblemished.
He was in good shape; his mental and emotional state needed work, but he could keep going at this pace for some time. He listened intently, and he recognized that at their current pace—the best they could hope for—the Ravagers were gaining on them. He didn’t know if they’d make it to the water before they were caught.
Then he remembered the ship he’d flown in on, the highly intelligent ship set to track him from above. He slowed his pace and reached down to grab the remote, then moved back to a slow jogging pace as he raised the remote to his face. “Hey, ship? Come to my location and pick us up!”
The man in front of him sensed the slowdown, heard Roddy talking to some unknown entity, and slowed down long enough to yell back at him. “Roddy, what the hell are you doing?” He turned sideways and skipped along so he could see Roddy. “We don’t have time for th—”
The silvery sphere burst through the tree canopy above, the force snapping limbs and dropping them on the path ahead. The children and Mary pulled up, dodging back to avoid being hit by the thick branches falling from the sky. John nearly collided with them as they retreated, and they all stopped and stared as the sphere hovered silently above the debris, ignoring the deafening sounds as the growing Ravager swarm closed in on them.
They all turned and stared at Roddy. Their eyes asked one question: Where did you get that?
“Get in!” Roddy shouted, and he watched as the ramp dropped from the seamless side to the dirt-and-branch covered ground below. He waved them forward. “It can get us back to the boat faster than we can run. And it can get us above the Ravagers.” That was useful, he thought; Ravagers were a ground-based menace.
Then he remembered that they’d been blown through the air to Micah Jamison’s private island, and realized they’d need to get as far away as fast as they could.
They all raced up the ramp and inside the gleaming sphere, trusting him enough to board without question; perhaps they were simply too frightened to worry. Roddy sprinted, still trying to keep the bouncing to a minimum to protect Wesley, then decided Wesley would forgive him for moving quickly rather than smoothly in this case. He reached the ramp and took care to keep Wesley’s head safe, listening to the sounds of deep, gasping breaths ahead of him, the thunderous sounds of the giant, old growth trees falling behind him. He didn’t turn to look. “Ship, get us back to the boat, quickly!”
Of course, Roddy.
The others jumped, wondering where the voice came from, as the ramp snapped shut and the ship burst back through the tree canopy, leveled off, and accelerated away from the Ravager swarm.
Roddy turned to look through the clear, panoramic walls, dazed. He saw it all: the wide swath of destruction, the all-too-familiar dark oily ooze so easily visible in daylight hours. As the ship rose, it became clear just how widespread the devastation was, and his mind struggled to comprehend that everything alive had been scraped off the surface and reduced to nothing.
He recalled his parent telling him of the weapons humans built before the Golden Ages, bombs dropped from flying machines that leveled everything for several miles in every direction. There was some residual effect outside that range—something called radiation—but the destruction, though massive, was constrained to a few miles’ radius. The Ravagers? Their limitations came only from those included in the code generated by programmers controlled by the Thirty.
Those limitations weren’t readily apparent in the miles and miles of barren terrain on display before him.
He swallowed, horrified, then resumed the deep breathing that would help calm him and bring his pulse back to a more normal rate. His mind whirled. How could someone dream of something like this, create it, understand just how thorough the destruction would be, how devastating they’d be to all living things… and still give the activation order?
Then he remembered he’d married one of those someones… and that her parents were far, far worse.
He turned and looked at those with him. They were dripping with sweat; he could smell the terror in the odor somehow. They, like Roddy, looked out the panoramic windows, and it was telling that they were mesmerized by the destruction to such a degree that none of them seemed to notice that they were flying along without any human being manning controls that didn’t exist.
Roddy felt the weight on his back. Wesley. He moved to one of the cushioned benches in the center of the cabin and carefully peeled the injured man from his back. He set Wesley down with care, ensuring that his head remained supported until the rest of his body rested on the cushion. He felt eyes on him. He looked up and saw Mary’s face. The hurt and fear weren’t quite gone, but her eyes registered approval, a hint that what she saw in him now was the Roddy she remembered, the one she wanted to see more of as they continued their efforts to survive.
He caught her looking at him, felt her eyes lock on his, and to his surprise felt his face flush.
He licked his lips. “Hi,” he said. Inwardly, he groaned. After everything that had happened, years ago and just now… and that’s all he could come up with?
“Hi, yourself,” she replied. Her tone was softer, gentler, still confused and hurt, but less so than before. Her eyes looked at him, taking in every inch, as if she’d never seen him before.
Which made no sense. He frowned. “You seemed surprised to see me looking like… this.” He motioned at his frame. “If you didn’t know what I looked like, how did you know about… her?”
“You aren’t the only one who erased memories,” she whispered, tinged with anger. “I forced your parents to wipe the image of the new Roddy from my mind so that I could pretend the real you had died, so I wouldn’t know you even if I saw you. That didn’t work very well. I knew about her, still knew you were with her. I avoided any of the shows on the view screens; too many changes to see the two of you, to remember the pain.”
He nodded; it made sense. Don’t forget why he wasn’t there, but help the illusion that he hadn’t really left. He took a deep breath. “Look, Mary… I want you to know that I had no idea, but even so, I won’t make excuses—”
“Shh,” she whispered. Her finger touched his lips, silencing him. Her face softened again. “I know the truth. I know you didn’t know; even if I didn’t, the fact that I didn’t recognize you unti
l you spoke words only Roddy could proved it. I’m angry about what happened, but in going through the process myself, I knew you couldn’t possibly know about me, know what you were doing, know how deeply seeing you with her hurt me. I don’t blame you, Roddy. Not anymore.” She wiped a single tear from her eye. “But it doesn’t hurt any less.”
He moved his hands toward her, hesitant at first, then with greater confidence when she didn’t move away. His hands touched her upper arms, slid up to her shoulders, reached behind her, and gently pulled him to her. She let her face fall against his shirt, and he felt the moisture as her tears emoted everything she’d gone through since that fateful day he’d ceased being the man who’d been her husband, until that man returned today. He slid one hand up her back and into her hair, running his fingers through locks matted by the dirt and mud and twigs they’d encountered on land, resting his chin atop her head. He lifted his chin once and planted a gentle kiss on her hair, then rested his chin there once more and pulled her in even tighter.
Time stood still. He forgot about the Ravagers. Forgot he was in a sphere that flew itself, that shielded him from turbulence, that made pilots like him obsolete. Forgot anything other than the woman in his arms, the scent of the hair reminding him of days gone by.
He eventually felt the eyes on him. Focus came back. He turned his head. Saw his children for the first time if you excluded moments when they weren’t running for their lives and he wasn’t trying to murder their friend. He lifted his chin from Mary’s head and pulled his fingers from her hair, letting the fingers wave his children over.
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