by Jacob Whaler
Little John marvels at the deep trust the children put in him. With nothing more than a brief conversation between them, they are turning their lives over to him, a stranger.
How can he be sure they will even survive?
It doesn’t matter. Death is better than this living hell they are suffering. The children understand this and are willing to risk it.
Little John decides to start with the boy and waits until the surge of mind-shattering awareness has passed. When his hands and feet stop shaking and his eyelids drop down halfway, it’s time.
Positioning himself squarely in front of the boy, he places the soles of his feet on the kid’s chest. He thinks of the Allehonen in his dreams and looks up in the darkness.
If you can hear me, please spare this pure soul from the agony I am about to inflict upon him.
Pulling the dagger-tooth cut from the monster, Little John steadies himself and thrusts the tip through the two foot section of the worm hanging from the boy’s mouth. It bites easily into the worm’s flesh and passes through to the other side. He grabs it with both hands like the handlebars of a bike.
There’s an immediate reaction.
The worm springs to life, twisting violently, its skin turning to thick metallic scales and spikes. Sharp needles burst out where Little John stabbed the beast.
He can only guess at what violence is being done to the boy’s internal organs. As Little John watches, the boy’s stomach and abdomen shake and quiver. The outline of the worm’s head appears below the flesh and then turns away. For an instant, the boy’s eyes shoot open, suffering and agony replaced by terror and bewilderment.
The little girl’s face stirs.
It hurts him. Please kill it. Please make it stop.
Little John pulls on the dagger-tooth, not with jerky or sudden movements, but slow and steady, the way you might extract an earthworm from its hole in the ground. Inch by inch, the body of the worm slides out of the boy’s mouth, bathed in blood and needles.
When he has pulled out a full meter of the beast, it twitches in his hands. His feet slip off the boy’s belly, and Little John loses his grip on the dagger-tooth. The worm’s outer skin instantly changes to slippery silk, and it slides back down the tender throat, stopping only when the dagger slams into the boy’s front teeth, shattering the top row.
Please forgive me, Little John thinks.
It’s time to try a new approach.
He takes up the dagger-tooth again and drags the worm out of the boy’s mouth several inches. Then he pulls out the dagger-tooth, moves it forward and stabs the worm again. Stabbing and pulling, he repeats the process inch by inch, foot by foot.
Finally, Little John sees the back of the worm’s head come up out of the boy’s throat. He wants to do whatever he can to prevent it from tearing out the boy’s tongue. Sliding two fingers along the top of the worm’s head, he cups them over its mouth and holds it shut as he pulls the grisly beast out.
The boy’s arms and legs collapse into a trembling ball, and he falls silent.
Little John ties the twitching worm around his own waist, reaches a hand out and pats the boy on the head.
The boy unwraps himself and stares up.
“Thank you,” he says, with a suggestion of a smile on his face. “I’ve healed my internal injuries. It’s much easier to do here.”
Little John’s lips move, but he’s unable to do anything but moan a few sounds.
“Let me heal you. Close your eyes.” The boy touches Little John on his forehead.
Warmth flows out from the boy’s fingertips into Little John’s head, down through his neck and shoulder into his torso and abdomen. It feels as if the jumbled pieces of a puzzle inside him are coming back together. He relaxes into oblivious surrender until he hears the voice.
“Finished. You can open your eyes.”
The boy’s face beams up at him.
“Incredible,” Little John says. “You have a gift.”
“My name’s Leo.” He turns to his side. “And this is Yarah. I have an idea.” He moves behind the little girl and places the palms of his hands on her back. “I’ll be inside healing her injuries and easing her pain as you put it out.”
“Good idea,” Little John says. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Ready.”
Working quickly and silently, Little John stabs the dagger-tooth into the worm’s body. It shudders and twitches, thrusting metallic spikes and needles out of its body as he pulls and twists, using the same method he perfected on Leo.
Blood pours from the little girl’s mouth. Tears fill Little John’s eyes as he extracts the beast from the tiny body with all the love and tenderness he can muster.
Through the entire process, Leo shudders and convulses as much as Yarah.
He is sharing the pain with her.
Little John’s eyes scan the two children, and he knows the meaning of love and courage.
At last, the worm head clears Yarah’s throat and thrashes around wildly inside her mouth. Her eyes roll back into her head. He slips the dragon-tooth into its body on a diagonal that passes through its upper and lower jaw, pinning them in place. Working its body back and forth, Little John finally extracts the beast.
The moment it cleared Yarah’s lips, her arms and legs stop shaking wildly and collapse into her body. Blood oozes from her torn lips, and her chin drops down onto her chest. She closes her eyes.
Leo’s hands stay on her back. Sweat pours from his forehead as he slumps over. The pain is visible on his face.
Little John ties the worm around his waist, adding it to the other two already there.
When Yarah looks up from her horrendous ordeal, she has a weak smile on her face.
The pain is gone. Thank you, Little John.
A few seconds later, Leo straightens his back.
Little John looks down on the two children like a proud father.
“Where are we?” Leo says.
“I think it’s a kind of alternate reality that takes over your mind when Ryzaard attaches one of those green implants to your brain. To be honest, I’m not sure whether anything here is real or not.”
It feels real.
“I couldn’t agree more, Yarah. You two are the bravest kids I’ve ever seen. Ryzaard is going to be sorry he ever messed with either of you.” For the first time in many days, a grin plays across his lips. It feels good. But then Little John’s face grows serious again. “I’m going to send you back.”
“Back where?” A hint of fear touches Leo’s face.
“Back to Ryzaard,” Little John says.
“No, please.” Leo turns to look at Yarah and at Little John. “Don’t send us back to him.”
Yarah’s words run through Little John’s mind.
Ryzaard is bad. He will hurt us again.
“Listen to me,” Little John says. “If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s for either of you to get hurt any more. You’ve already been through enough pain and suffering to last several lifetimes. But as long as you stay here, Ryzaard will keep using your Stones, like he’s using mine, making him stronger.”
Yarah nods her head up and down.
We have to fight the bad man.
“You need to get your Stones back.” Little John unties one of the worms from around his waist. “And this is the key.” Holding the creature in one hand just behind the head, he lets it dangle and squirm like a fish on a hook in front of them.
Leo draws back.
Yarah slaps the beast’s head so hard that Little John almost loses his grip on it.
“So, what should we do?” Leo says.
“I’ll try to explain,” Little John says. “Any idea why Ryzaard didn’t just kill you and me?”
Yarah and Leo shake their heads.
“I think I know.” Little John grabs the tail of the worm and stretches it out in front of them. “The Stones are incredibly stronger when Holders join their Stones together. So Ryzaard came up with a way to force o
ther Stone Holders to unite with him.” Little John looks down at the worm. “If I’m not mistaken, these worms are like wires that connect our brains to the little green implants. It’s how he controls us and uses the Stones through us.”
Leo’s forehead wrinkles.
“How can a worm be a connection? How can it be anything other than a worm?”
“Good question,” Little John says. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. The Stones give us access to a reality beyond what we see in the real world. Part of us is here, the thinking part, floating in space, while our bodies are laid out on a hospital bed in Ryzaard’s lab. Whatever happens in the lab, whatever happens to the Stones, has a counterpart here.”
“So, what do we do?” Leo says. “How do we get back to the lab?”
Yarah’s voice is strong and clear in Little John’s mind.
We break the connection.
“Yes, Yarah, you are exactly right.” Little John holds out the worm and stretches it. “If I break this connection, you should wake up back in the lab.”
“Then what?” Leo reaches out for Yarah’s hand. “Ryzaard will put us right back here with another implant. Or kill us.”
“There’s only one solution.” Little John’s voice quivers as he speaks. “One of us has to distract him.”
“How?” Leo says.
Little John looks down at the children, first focusing on Yarah, and then on Leo.
He decides he’s going to miss them both very much.
“I’ll stay here and—”
They all fall silent as a wave of awareness and clarity crashes over them, causing their eyes to open wide and minds to race, amplifying any thoughts in their consciousness to the point of pain.
When the main thrust of the wave has washed through them, Little John unties another worm from around his waist. He holds each of them just behind the head like a snake handler.
“Now listen carefully,” Little John says. “We don’t have much time. I’m going to tell you everything I know about the Stones. When the next wave hits, you’re going back.”
“And then what are you going to do?” Leo says.
“Don’t worry about me.” Little John swallows and fights back the nausea that is beginning to build in his stomach. “I’ll be just fine.”
Yarah looks up at him.
Little John knows she has read his mind. He can feel her presence in his thoughts.
Tears stream down her cheeks, and she speaks in a whisper meant only for him.
You are going to die a second time.
CHAPTER 140
Matt stands tense, looking around, expecting Ryzaard to reappear at any minute in any location. After five minutes of silence, he relaxes and turns around to face Jessica.
“He’s lying,” she says.
“About what?”
“The two children. They’re not dead.”
“How do you know?”
“Easy. The tone of his voice. Body language. He’s smart, but not a good liar.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Jessica places her hands on his blue chest. “Those kids are still alive.”
Matt drops down to his knees and looks at the grass. “We have to go after them.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” Jessica says.
“Let’s take care of these bodies before we leave,” Matt looks at the remains of his dad, surprised at his own lack of sorrow. “He’s not here. I know that for sure. This is just a shell he left behind.”
“It’s something I’ve always knownn.” Jessica’s hand goes onto Matt’s shoulder. “How did you finally come to understand?”
“Long story, Jess.” He reaches for her hand. “I saw Mom and Dad together. With the Allehonen. You were right.” Matt stands up and holds his Stone in both hands. “Stand back.” A wide blade of gray energy comes out of his Stone, and he lowers it to the ground, scooping out a square hole, deep and wide.
They place the remains of both Kent and Jake in the hole and cover it with dirt and rocks. When they are done, Jessica stands still, hands in front, head bowed, lips moving silently.
“No need to say goodbye, Jess.” Matt pulls her away. “I already did.” He picks up his dad’s backpack, rummages through it and pulls out a new shirt and pants. They go on quickly.
“A bit small,” Jessica says.
“I might fill his clothes, but I’ll never fill his shoes. Dad is the only reason I’m still alive.” Matt takes Jessica’s hand. “Now let’s go get those kids.”
“Any idea where?” She wraps her fingers around his.
“An idea? Yes. But not much more.”
They walk together across the field of grass. On the way, they come across a pile of soldiers’ bodies. Matt bends down and fishes out two pulse rifles, handing one to Jessica and slinging the other over his shoulder.
She takes the rifle and runs her fingers down the black stock and the long silver barrel, giving it an appraising look.
“Can you handle one of these?” Matt says.
Without a word, Jessica reaches down and picks up a rock the size of a baseball, tossing it high in the air. In a blur, she pumps the gun, rams the stock against her shoulder, lays her cheek behind the sights, looks down the barrel and brings it high up in the sky. Her finger squeezes off the trigger.
The rock turns into gray mist just as it reaches its apex.
“Does that answer your question?”
“Good to know.” Matt says.
He finds a dozen extra pulse cartridges and drops them into his backpack.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 141
It takes forever for the next wave to hit.
As soon as he feels it coming on, Little John winks first at Leo and then at Yarah. “I’ll keep Ryzaard busy while you two get away. Understood?”
The children both nod.
“I’m sending you back first, Leo. Get ready.”
Little John brings Leo’s worm close to his face, forces its mouth open and grips the upper and lower jaws. With a surge of energy, he pulls his hands apart and rips the head in two, tearing open its body along the spine like unzipping a zipper. Spikes explode from its skin. Black blood gushes from its gut and collects in spherical globules that float in zero gravity before their eyes.
It comes apart clean, and Little John flings the two halves in opposite directions far out into the darkness.
Yarah sees the torn flesh and exposed bones and tendons on Little John’s hands.
Who will heal you?
Without trying to answer, Little John grasps the other worm from around his waist. As his strength begins to fade, he rips it apart before Yarah’s wide eyes, ignoring the searing pain that bites into his arms and hands. The two dead halves float out and away.
Then he grabs the Stone floating at his side and turns downward, swimming through darkness.
When he looks back up, both of the children are gone.
Using his Stone, he wills himself to go faster. After a journey of only a few minutes, the dark planet hangs suspended in space below him. Shooting through the outer layer of floating shark heads, he dives down into the forest of cables, finally coming to rest on the smooth glass surface of the planet.
He bends down and stares through the glass where blue, green and red streaks of light fill the interior like billions of falling stars.
No turning back. Are you ready to do this?
He doesn’t try to answer.
Kneeling on the glass, Little John slips the tooth-dagger out of the worm around his waist. He unties the worm and holds it close to his face where he watches it squirm and wiggle. The tendrils around its mouth flail and wave inches from his face.
Holding the creature in his left hand just behind the head, he lets it dangle down to the planet’s surface. Then he steps on the worm’s tail and pulls, keeping its body taut. With his right hand, he thrusts the tooth-dagger through the body near the tail until it protrudes from the other si
de.
He picks up the Stone. He wills a twelve-inch blade of white plasma to rise out of its tip.
With the Stone in his right hand, he squats down and plunges the blade through the glass surface of the planet. It slides in without resistance. Swinging his hand in a circle, he cuts a large hole.
The circular piece of glass comes off, exposing the interior of the planet. The smell of burnt sulfur drifts up into his nostrils.
Here goes nothing.
He positions himself over the hole with the head of the worm close to his face. Its eyeless head writhes in his hand.
My connection.
Bringing the head up to his open mouth, the creature senses the opening and tries to swim vigorously toward it. A spasm of convulsions strike his stomach. Bile rises up through his throat.
Closing his eyes, he lets go of the worm.
It darts into his mouth, the skin of the head smooth as fine silk on his tongue. He feels its head disappear down the back of his throat. As it rushes in, he runs his fingers along the length of its body until both hands catch hold of the tooth-dagger piercing its body near the tail. The worm comes to an abrupt stop.
Bolts of pain surge through his muscles and nerves as the worm pulls against the tooth-dagger and fights to go deeper. Its skin turns to sandpaper and sends out merciless spikes and needles that tear through the tender lining of his mouth and throat. The jaws dig and rip their way through the organs in his abdominal cavity, searching for the connection.
When it clamps down on his spinal cord, it’s like explosions of lightning down his chest and legs and out the soles of his feet.
Bombs away.
His eyes roll up into his head and he tumbles backward through the hole into a sea of color.
CHAPTER 142
“Dr. Ryzaard, the trading algorithm just suffered another catastrophic loss of power!” There’s a sense of panic in Elsa’s voice.
Ryzaard looks down at the face floating in the holo above the jax on his desk. “What do you mean, Elsa?”
“The two new Stones have gone offline. Predictive power has plummeted by three orders of magnitude. We’re back to only three Stones. I’m trading over five million positions completely blind right now.”
