Prescott slapped Jon on the back and said, "It’s gunna be fun."
"Stonewall’s mortar teams will be in the south with you, Shep. As long as Nina is okay, she’ll be in an Apache and so will Bragg."
Jon asked, "What about you? What weapons you using?"
Instead of explaining, Trevor walked onto the balcony. They followed and listened as he said, "I’ll have the Apaches first. What I really need is ground transportation for my army."
Below on the front lawn under the fading sun of an early June evening assembled Trevor’s army of Grenadiers: Rotties and Huskies, German Shepherds and Dobermans and even several gigantic Irish Wolfhounds. Nearly three hundred K9s.
"I’m going to lead this army against the Red Hands to the north. We will be outnumbered, but we will fight like the devil. If we get it done the Apaches, me, and the K9s will transfer to other fronts. If Stonewall does his job, then the Vikings will be the last to be engaged. But make no mistake, the Roachbots may be fewer in number but they might be the hardest. Jon, I leave their destruction in your hands. Is your plan ready?"
"Omar has been using that matter-maker thing to crank out Redcoat blasting powder all day. We’ll be ready."
Dante spoke out of the blue: "The Battle of Five Armies."
"How’s that?" Shepherd, like the others, did not recognize the reference.
"Oh, c’mon guys," Dante rolled his eyes. "Tolkien, man. The Hobbit. The big battle was between five different armies. Well that’s what we got here, right? Humans, K9s and three big groups of hostiles. Five armies, right?"
Trevor nodded. It sounded as good a name as any.
"Good luck to you all, gentlemen. If we win, I will see you again soon. If not, let the universe know that humanity went down with a fight."
– Trevor and Shepherd walked into the observation area of a CAT scan lab on the first floor of General Hospital. In the interest of conserving energy, the room was lit only by the fluttering screens of computer terminals. Reverend Johnny and a middle-aged spectacled man in a white coat named Dr. Maple waited for them.
"Where is she?"
"She’s resting in a room with Lori right now," Reverend Johnny answered Trevor. "We've thrown every test I could think of at her. Some of the results are still pending, but I think we've got a handle on the problem."
Shep said, "Spell it out, Rev."
"It’s been there all along. I’ve never seen anything like it. But tears of Jesus it wouldn’t have mattered because I didn’t have this kind of equipment."
Johnny tapped the image of Nina’s brain displayed on one of the computer screens.
Trevor’s library of knowledge did not bestow him the ability to read x-rays or CAT scans or whatever. Nonetheless, he immediately spied a foreign object attached to Nina’s brain.
Dr. Maple adjusted his eyeglasses and joined the conversation: "Ah, it’s like a film just inside the skull. It appears to have some sort of roots reaching into specific, um, areas of the cerebral cortex."
Johnny explained, "When I ran a chemical analysis I found that the devil had not been entirely burned at the stake."
Trevor growled impatiently, "How’s that?"
Shepherd offered an answer: "It’s from The Order. Left over from what they did to her."
Johnny nodded and said, "I’ve now found how they implanted fake memories. This patch worked in conjunction with the more traditional-looking implant. My sincerest apologies, Mr. Stone. I simply had no way of-"
Trevor ignored his apology and jumped, "Can you save her? Can you stop it from hurting her? I…can’t lose her… I can’t…"
Shepherd squeezed Trevor’s shoulder.
Johnny told him, "It is merely an implant. If I can get the correct enzyme I simply inject her and it will shrivel and die."
Trevor breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the floor.
Shepherd cocked a suspicious eye and wagged a finger at the image.
"Tell me something, doc. What exactly is this thing doin’ inside my girl’s head?"
Dr. Maple answered enthusiastically, "You know how a, ah, computer works?"
"A little."
"Right," Maple pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "When you…say…save a, um, program or load software your computer writes that information to a hard drive. Think of the hard drive, in this case, as the part of Ms. Forest’s brain that stores memories. Well, what The Order has apparently done is-for sake of an example-they’ve rigged an external floppy drive. They were able to, well, have her brain access that external drive-this patch of film-where it found false memories."
Reverend Johnny joined, "I see this metaphor despite my disdain for those monsters of megabytes. To put a fine point on it, this ‘floppy drive’ became her primary memory storage area, although she still could call up older memories from her hard drive."
Jerry Shepherd scratched his chin and remarked, "Well, ain’t that clever."
"The problem is, um, that-to continue to use the, ah, metaphor-her floppy drive is getting, well, it’s getting full. It just doesn’t have the same capacity as the main brain. That’s why she’s been passing out. Over load. We can give her stimulants to keep her going for a while. But, well, eventually this could lead to, ah, severe brain damage and, well, um…"
"What? Whoa. Hold on a moment," Trevor alternated his eyes from Johnny to Maple to Johnny again. "But she’s going to be okay, right? I mean, you can get this out?"
The Rev calmed, "Yes, Mr. Stone. We will need to return to The Order’s abandoned base in Allentown. There I’ll find the correct enzymes. I inject her, and a minute later it disintegrates."
"Thank God."
Trevor wiped a hand of relief across his brow but paused when he spied Reverend Johnny and Dr. Maple share glance.
"What? What is it?"
Johnny licked his lips.
Shepherd said, "Seems to me there’s a cat you haven’t let out of the bag."
"Mr. Stone…Trevor," Johnny proceeded delicately. "I don’t believe you’ve followed the metaphor to its fullest extent. When I say Ms. Forest will be as right as rain, I mean physically."
"But?"
"This…this ‘floppy drive’ as we’ve been calling it…this is where she’s been storing all of her memories since its implant. When we destroy it…when we inject the counter-agent and remove it, then she will…"
Shepherd finished, "She’ll lose all her memories going back to the helicopter crash."
Trevor's comprehension came slowly. The dots connected one by one.
"All her…memories…"
He collapsed his weight against a counter top.
"All of her memories of me. Of the two of us…she-"
In a soft voice Shepherd said, "She won’t even know who you are. She won’t know anyone around here ‘cept me. She won’t know about the estate or what she went through at The Order or the Redcoats or whatever happens between now and when the Rev here kills that thing."
Trevor mumbled, "Everything…the person she has become since then…that person won’t exist anymore."
– "Show yourself! Show yourself you son of a bitch!"
Trevor pushed through the forest. Bats scattered and an owl raced for cover. Tyr trailed at a discrete distance but even the K9 trembled at his enraged master.
He ran out of curses and let loose a howl of anguish that roared through the night.
Then Trevor collapsed and rolled over. His limbs felt weak and worn and for the first time since the day Armageddon had descended upon humanity, he felt completely at the mercy of the universe.
The branches above reached toward the stars with indifference.
"Wasn’t my doin’. I can promise you that, Trev. This is just one of them, oh, what you would call it? Coincidences. Irony. Shit like that. I dunno."
Trevor gasped, "Why?"
"You deaf or sometin’? I had notin’ to do with it. But I see a chance for you to part ways easy enough. She won’t even know she ever knew you. Easy way out."
&
nbsp; "Easy? Easy way out? For such an all-knowing entity you don’t know shit, do you? You have no idea what she means to me. You want me to fight this fight? Then help me keep her. She’s my strength. Don’t you get it? She gives me the strength to keep going."
"Naw," the Old Man countered coolly. "You and I both know that’s a lie. In fact, I get the feelin’ you’re gunna be a much better fighter without her. You’re going to go through the rest of your life with nothing else but the ‘cause.’ You’re gunna be so pissed off at this world for takin’ her away that you’re gunna kill all that more easy. Slaughter them all, Trev. Maybe if you kill enough of ‘em you’ll feel better."
"I hate you. You know that? I hate you for what you made me."
The Old Man chuckled.
"You ain’t seen nothin’ yet."
– A pair of kerosene lamps on the fireplace mantle filled the living room with an oily, smoky scent. Nina sat on the floor in the soft glow with her knees pulled to her chin and a blank expression painted on her face.
"I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back to who I was."
Trevor eased to the floor next to her. Outside, early birds spread the word that a new day would soon dawn.
He told her, "Memories. Memories and experiences shape us, I guess like a river can cut out a canyon over time."
"Take away my memories for the last year and I’m just a Philly police officer thinking the only way to survive is to keep moving. Not to get tied down. Not to get attached."
Trevor remembered the shy girl with the icy cold eyes. Since then…so much.
Nina struggled, "I can’t do it. I think I’d rather…I’d rather…"
"No. I won’t watch you die."
She spoke in words that were angry, sad, and scared all at the same time: "If we do this then you have to fight to win me back. Do you promise? You get through to me. You tell me about us and everything. You break through…you break…through."
He whispered, "We should do this as soon as possible. I don’t like the risk to you."
She shook her head.
"We might die in the next day or so. I’m just saying, if that’s the case then I want to die the person I am now. If we survive this battle, then we talk. But not before then."
He nodded acceptance of her terms. He knew the doctors could give her stimulants to stave off the problem for a while.
– The sun climbed the horizon and glared across the lake. Overhead clouds drifted on a sea of blue while a light coating of dew sparkled on the grass.
Nina left the estate and walked with her eyes staring at the ground and Odin alongside.
She could not remember ever feeling so afraid for the future. After how far she had come- how far she and Trevor had come — after all these months. To lose him now…she might as well lose an arm or a leg.
She rubbed a hand against the side of her head but felt nothing there. She had never felt anything there. They hid it well.
A curious sight interrupted her thoughts: a white dog.
No. Not a dog. A wolf. A white wolf waiting near the stairs to her apartment.
"What..?"
To her surprise, Odin trotted toward the creature.
The wolf headed into the forest. Odin followed.
Nina stood still.
Odin stopped.
The wolf stopped.
Both animals gazed at her.
Nina, although she did not know why, followed the beasts into the woods and over a ridge. There she saw something more puzzling: an old man sitting at a campfire.
He raised a hand and waved to her.
Nina cautiously approached. The wolf sat behind the man and Odin relaxed by the fire.
"Come on now, honey, nothin’ to be worryin’ ‘bout. I’m a friend. Sort of."
"A friend?"
"Now ole’ Trev didn’t go tellin’ you ‘bout me? With how close you two been ‘n all. Thought he woulda shared."
Trevor had dropped hints about a mysterious entity that saved him in the early days. Nina never pushed to find out more. She did not need to know all the secrets.
He took a long gander at her.
"So you’re Nina Forest, mm-mm. I can certainly see why he finds you so alluring."
Nina fidgeted, both uncomfortable and on guard.
"Now don’t you go getting yourself all worked up. I’m just passin' time. Besides, you’re the one with the big gun, right?"
She felt the weight of her M4 on her shoulder and calmed.
"That’s all right and good. That’s the way of you, ain’t it? The feel of that rifle…makes you feel invincible. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that these days."
"Who are you?"
"Seems to me the world coulda done pretty damn well if you had been the other half of all this. Now that woulda been somethin’ to see." The Old Man hooted a laugh. "Oh dear goodness, that woulda almost been unfair. The two of you runnin’ over the baddies like a hot knife cuttin’ through margarine."
"You’ve been helping Trevor all this time."
"No, no, don’t go takin’ credit away from him. Fact is I helped him a lot less than he thinks. Just sorta pointed him in the right direction. He’s got a-what would you call it? — a natural pre-dis-po-zi-shun to what he’s doin’. It’s in his genes."
Nina blurted, "I love him."
The pronouncement dampened the Old Man’s mood. He appeared sad or disappointed.
"Yessir, that’s comin’ across clear. And you wanna know something? He’s all ‘bout you. That’s why I’m so scared. Me! Scared! Ain’t that just to beat the band? A little old emotion could go breakin’ that chain Trevor’s on. Breakin’ it and causin’ everything to fall ‘part."
"What are you saying? Look, I’m not really good with doublespeak."
"Nope, that’s true. I could see that right off. That’s why I like you so much, little lady. That and I got a soft spot for Trevor and I’d like to see him happy but that ain’t in the cards."
Nina slung her head.
"Then you know about this memory thing. You know what it means to me and him."
The Old Man corrected, "Best thing that ever happened. Hell, old Voggoth tried to pull a fast one and it’s come full circle and bit him in the ass. If he hadn’t put that in you, who knows if I’d be able to stop this? Something tells me Trevor would rather see the whole ball o’ wax die off than say goodbye to you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Like I said, I like you. I damn well respect how much of a soldier you are, too. Lookin’ ahead, I can see some big things for you. Because I like you, I’m gunna do something I’m not supposed to be doin’. Don’t matter none, though. You’ll either be dead or this will be forgotten."
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
The Old Man smiled and said, "Sit by the fire for a spell and I’ll tell you a story."
31. Contact
The army approaching from the south-the "Vikings"-spent the night camped on the side of a mountain overlooking the neglected farms around Drums, Pennsylvania. At dawn, they resumed their northbound march along Interstate 81.
Stonewall split his forces into two brigades and maneuvered to engage the aliens. The General personally led "First Brigade" with Kristy Kaufman and Benny Duda, the 13-year old trumpeter, at his side. Dustin McBride once again commanded "Second Brigade" with the aid of Woody "Bear" Ross and Cassy Simms. Each formation included twenty-five mounted fighters.
Stonewall spent the first hours of his mission reconnoitering the enemy. When he garnered enough information, he found a safe spot atop a grassy slope, unpacked a heavy transmitter, and radioed his findings.
Miles away, Eagle One sat silent in a parking lot between the western banks of the Susquehanna and Route 11. Trevor and Dante, in the cockpit, listened to Stonewall’s report.
"The enemy can be considered humanoid in that they have two arms, two legs, a pair of eyes, and the like, and they are most certainly not barbarians. The 'Viking' name assigned to them i
s quite misleading. In terms of appearance, they’ve got big, puffy cheeks with wiry hair, a kind of whiskers I suppose. Their heads are mainly bald. Indeed, as I look at them I recall the fancy creatures of a Dr. Seuss book in that their outward appearance is almost peaceful. Alas, I regret to report their nature to be far more militaristic."
Trevor radioed, "What do you mean?"
After a patch of static, Stonewall answered, "They wear a battle suit resembling a poncho with a hood and goggles and a kind of rough trousers beneath. Their wardrobe displays a rather interesting attribute in that it changes colors to match surroundings, like a chameleon. These ponchos will turn green when walking through the grass, brown or rusty red in the forest. It was our misfortune to realize this ability when one of my riders found himself ambushed."
"Okay. I see what you’re saying."
"This group appears to be the most, um, capable of the forces we’ve faced to date. They use scouts and pickets and guard their flanks. They’ve broken their marching formation into smaller ranks to better conceal their number. Indeed, I invested many hours of scouting before gleaning the most basic information."
"What about weapons?"
"Their main armament is a kind of rifle. It fires fairly silently, therefore I suspect no powder cartridge; perhaps a magnetic mechanism that projects a pellet that kills more with speed than size. I suspect their guns to be at least as lethal as our own."
While Trevor mulled that information, Stonewall emphasized the bad news: "It is my opinion we are facing the best fighters we have seen thus far. They are not going to fall easily into a ruse in that they exhibit a degree of battlefield awareness lacking in the Redcoats."
"Weaknesses?"
"I have not spied any air cover. Considering Mr. Dunston was struck by ground fire it is fair to assume they are capable of defending against air attack. Furthermore, I saw no artillery, but there are several carts or wagons pulled by what can best be described as reptilian elephants."
Trevor asked, "How many?"
"As I have indicated, they go to great lengths to hide their numbers. My best estimate is somewhere between three and four hundred."
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