When Ashley returned from her trip through time, she found her fiancé a changed man. Instead of clumsy and misguided Richard, she met Trevor. Cold, distant, and focused. She did not need to know of Nina to know she no longer held his heart.
Nonetheless, in this new world she found a new role, too; the strong and quiet companion to the Emperor.
While they never married, they shared the same bed and sometimes shared their bodies. Even then—even in the midst of passion—they mainly felt alone.
As Trevor often told himself, there were worse fates. In a world that confined him to the prison of his mission, living with the beautiful Ashley was the least of his sorrows.
"Full council meeting today?" She asked as they passed what used to be a dining room but had long ago morphed into Lori Brewer’s office.
"No, just military. Dante and Eva are in Washington in front of Evan’s sub-committees."
"You mean the Senate’s sub-committees."
"That’s what I said, didn’t I?"
"Freudian slip. Well, enjoy your meeting," Ashley gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Oh, I’m sure it will be a laugh a minute."
---
Several days each week the den changed from playroom to classroom for a half-dozen children of officers and administrators, including Catherine Brewer and Jorge Stone.
With a backpack slung over his shoulder, JB paused outside the door when he saw 'Reverend' Johnny, a stocky black man on his way to the military meeting in the basement.
"Greetings and salutations young Jorge," Johnny boomed and grinned.
JB replied, "Good morning Mister Reverend Johnny, sir."
The sound of children chattering carried out from the makeshift classroom.
"Today is a school day? When I was your age, Saturday was a day for shenanigans."
"Wow, that must have been a long, long time ago."
"Why yes, Master Stone, it was most certainly a long time ago. Now you run along and mind your manners with your teacher."
Jorge took one step toward the den but stopped. He turned to Johnny again with his eyes cast down and his head tilted, as if struggling with a thought.
"Do tell, JB, is there something else today?"
The young boy found the solution he sought. He told the Reverend, "My father will need you. You can see things more clearly sometimes."
"I do not comprehend your meaning, Master Stone."
"You should be with my father when he goes. He’ll need you."
"Goes? When your father goes where?"
Jorgie’s answer came nonchalant as if—duh—everyone knows what I am talking about.
"Away."
JB walked into class leaving Reverend Johnny standing in the hallway, perplexed.
---
Trevor convened his military council at the conference table in the basement. There sat General Jon Brewer; his wife, Lori, who was Chief Administrator; Omar Nehru; Omar’s wife, Anita, who served as "Chief Analyst Hostile Information and Tracking"; Brett Stanton; Gordon Knox, Director of Intelligence; General Jerry Shepherd of Army Group Center; General Thomas Prescott of Army Group South and, of course, Reverend Johnny who held the position of "Chief Analyst Hostile Biotechnology."
Ironically, they waited for General Hoth, the last person anyone expected to be late.
Lori Brewer hung up a phone and reported, "A shuttle from Army Group North landed on the pad upstairs. General Fink is making his way down here."
"Fink?" Stone said. "Where is Hoth?"
Lori shrugged. "How the Hell am I supposed to know?"
Moments later Casey Fink descended the stairs into the basement. Jon Brewer intercepted him before he could reach the table and grilled him as to Hoth's disposition. Fink responded with a whisper in Jon's ear while handing him a note. A moment later Jon came to Trevor's side and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Could I speak to you for a moment?"
Brewer led Trevor to a corner and carried on a hushed conversation. The others at the table shared concerned glances but otherwise waited.
After several minutes, the two men returned to the table but something was wrong with Trevor; his eyes glazed over and he sort of stumbled as he walked, almost zombie-like.
"Okay, um," Stone coughed and started the meeting. Instead of making eye contact with the others as he always did, Trevor stared at his hands clasped in front of him on the table top. "Let’s go around and get updates from everyone. Let's, um, Shep, let’s start with you."
Instead of reporting, Shepherd said, "Seems to me we should be waiting for Hoth, right?"
Jon answered for Trevor, "He’s not coming. Casey here is standing in for Hoth today."
"That's rather unusual, isn't it?" Shep did not really ask, he more demanded.
Trevor conceded, "General Hoth did not want to leave his post at this time. He did not want to, um, leave because he has a group of missing soldiers out there."
The room waited for more.
Trevor swallowed hard and finally looked up.
"The Dark Wolves failed to report in from a mission. They are considered M.I.A."
Trevor turned his eyes to Shepherd. Nina was like a daughter to him. Trevor understood that Shep deserved an answer.
"Nina Forest is missing."
---
The runes emitted a vibration of energy, like static electricity filling the cavern. The nature of that energy—in fact everything about the runes—befuddled Omar, Reverend Johnny, and everyone else who tried to understand the strange objects.
Made of something resembling rock, the two jagged pillars stood six feet tall on a shared base, each crowned by a silver orb permanently stamped with the handprints of Jon Brewer.
Symbols were etched into the columns, seemingly placed randomly and resembling just about every form of alphabet Earth had ever known, yet remaining undecipherable.
After Jon Brewer and his team had returned home from their expedition to the north, Trevor blasted out a cave in one of the rocky mountains behind the estate. Massive iron doors, a complex security system, and a cadre of both humans and K9s stood guard.
Hundreds of aliens resided at the "Chase" prison a few miles away in Jackson Township while they waited their turn through the runes or, in some cases, diversion to the Red Rock research facility for scientific examination.
At any one time the prison held a hundred Hivvans and a few dozen Platypuses'. Plenty of room remained in Chase but humanity rarely sought surrender from the invaders; Trevor and mankind spoke of liberation but beneath that noble cause simmered a dark desire for revenge.
On that particular Saturday afternoon, a line of ten Hivvans—bipedal reptiles—moved through the cave guarded by Doberman Pinschers and Internal Security officers. They marched toward the runes on the far side of a round chamber illuminated by portable lights.
Trevor sat in a dark corner on a pile of boulders. He watched as the aliens, one by one, stepped between the pillars. Each time the letters on the runes glowed as the alien dissolved into molecules that faded away from Earth ostensibly to reassemble on their home planet.
He watched, allowing his eyes to grow mesmerized by the sight while his mind considered that morning's meeting.
Prescott's Army Group South planned an attack on the last two Hivvan colonies of any size at Little Rock and Shreveport. Prescott faced the challenge of knocking out the enemy's defenses without harming the nearly ten thousand slaves at those camps and doing so fast enough that the Hivvans could not exterminate their slaves if they chose that route.
Army Group Center slowed its westward movement due to the poor condition of infrastructure in the Tennessee Mountains as well as the need to disperse Stonewall's 2nd Mechanized Infantry into smaller units to support Hunter-Killer teams liquidating extraterrestrial monsters in the region.
However, they found a significantly higher survival rate in the Smokey Mountains. Shepherd's Army Group kept finding enclaves of people ranging in size from extended families to
small villages, all hardened by six years of survival but eager to join the expanding Empire.
Casey Fink reported on behalf of General Hoth that Army Group North remained in place, stuck outside of Washington Court House. This time the delay did not come from supply problems or sick soldiers. Instead, Hoth held back his advance for a reason that could not be explained on a map or in a report: instinct.
"General Hoth is planning limited operations in the near future and will focus on intelligence gathering until the situation in Ohio becomes clearer," Fink had reported.
Trevor and the others at the table easily read between the lines. While losing Special Forces operators did not qualify as an unusual occurrence, the circumstances around the Dark Wolves' disappearance suggested something larger at work. A trap? A ruse?
On top of that, a sizeable force of crazy 'Roachbots' threatened Hoth's southern flank. Until he dealt with that, major thrusts westward could not be contemplated.
Nina is missing.
And there it was. The gigantic elephant in the room of Trevor's mind. He listened to the reports at that morning's conference but could not hear well because his mind—his heart—focused on the fate of the only woman he ever truly loved.
Time had not healed the wound. How could it? She had not left him but had been taken; her memories—the person she became during that year with him—wiped clean. Time had merely dulled the pain; time and distance.
Could he go back to his office and push pins around a map not knowing her fate?
He knew—he accepted—that Nina would most likely meet a warrior's fate one day. Her purpose was to fight. She knew who she was—a natural born soldier—even if she did not understand the why. The result? A shy woman; an outcast. Yet she never gave in. She refused to change for the sake of acceptance.
Armageddon gave her skills a noble purpose and eventually Trevor unlocked the lonely person hiding inside. He found the compassion in her. He found the warmth. He helped turn the shy little girl into a complete person just as she allowed him an escape from his burdens when the weight grew too heavy.
If she died in battle, her body flown home for a soldier’s funeral, then it would be over and he could grieve the loss. But her fate remained a mystery.
Years ago Trevor fell into the hands of The Order, arguably the most dangerous entity invading Earth. He suffered horrible torments at their hands to the point that he wondered how he remained sane.
What if Nina suffered a similar fate? Could he sit in his office pushing pins and signing orders—doing nothing!—with that possibility? Even now, was Nina covered in Bore Bugs or in the clutches of one of The Order's Torture-Spiders?
Trevor knew he could never be with her again. The woman he loved no longer existed. Yet that did not matter. He could not—he would not--abandon her.
For more than six years he followed the Old Man's orders; he selflessly lived for the cause even when it cost him the love of his life; even when it cost him his soul at New Winnabow. For more than six years he had been nothing other than a leader.
Not now. This time he would be something else; something he had not been in a long, long time.
A man.
---
Contrary to legend, Trevor Stone had not instantaneously turned into an all-knowing, all-conquering hero when the invaders arrived on Earth.
Indeed, during those first hours of Armageddon, Trevor pissed himself in fear, ran from every monster he faced, and would have been dinner for a Deadhead if not for Tyr and Odin, his pet Elkhounds.
Furthermore, he probably would have died of exposure in the middle of the forest had he not happened upon the Old Man. At that point the mysterious entity told Trevor of his destiny to survive, fight, and sacrifice.
The Old Man offered three gifts, although the visit by Trevor's crazed half-brother cast doubt on the origin of at least one of those gifts.
Nonetheless, the first gift had been a well-stocked estate, perfect for weathering the initial storm. The second, the camaraderie of the canines, giving him an instant army. Both of these gifts on display for all to see. The third gift, however, remained a mystery even to his close friends. Only Nina had ever seen it, and that memory was erased.
Trevor descended into the mansion basement, the conference table sat empty. He worked his way to a door under the stairs and opened it. Inside this utility closet he found a hot water heater and a cabinet which he shoved to the side revealing a small gray door.
He wondered if the door really existed. After all, the key that unlocked it hung on a chain around his neck yet was never visible unless he needed it, as he did now.
With a dull click the door unlocked. Trevor snapped on a flashlight and descended a dark staircase to a small chamber framed in earthen walls, smelling of damp air, and filled with a soft hum.
Against the far wall waited a table holding the type of cliché treasure chest that a Hollywood Blackbeard might seek.
Trevor opened that chest. A round object drifted out bathing the chamber in soft blue light. Inside the sphere hovered a double helix; the representation of human DNA.
"Time to recharge," Stone mumbled to himself as he reached toward the glowing orb as if warming his hands in a campfire. As he did, a bout of lightheadedness caused him to stumble, nearly fall to the dirt floor.
He did not understand exactly how it worked. He did not feel some flood of knowledge or visions, just a sense of dizziness. However, in the hours ahead he would find new memories in his mental library. Memories of soldiers and scientists, professors and politicians. He knew there were limits but the only boundary he had truly hit was one of medicine; his skills in that arena remained limited to basic first aid.
What puzzled him most, however, was that the knowledge of how to fly the alien Redcoat shuttles—renamed 'Eagles'--came to him from this source. If this was a sphere of only human genetic memories, then why did the memories of an alien pilot exist therein?
Trevor backed away from the sphere as the dizziness grew. As he did, the glowing orb returned to the chest. He then quickly shut the lid, locking it in until he might need it again.
---
Trevor read the title of the Sesame Street book JB selected for his bed time read: "The Monster at the end of this book…starring lovable furry old Grover!"
Of course Jorge could easily read the book himself, but Trevor knew JB enjoyed hearing his father do the reading and, as usual, adding dramatic flare to the words. So Trevor lay on the small bed with his son—dressed in fire engine pajamas—curled close.
As for the book, it depicted the friendly monster Grover attempting to stop the reader from turning the pages in order to avoid the monster at the end of the book, as per the title.
Trevor read to his boy but his mind raced in other directions. His bags were packed and he had ordered his personal Eagle pilot—Rick Hauser—to prepare for a morning trip. Most important, he formulated a plausible lie for Ashley about a surprise visit to Ohio to boost morale.
In truth, he planned to recruit a handful of Hoth's men and duplicate Nina's path. If she lived, he aimed to find her. If not, he would bring her body home. She deserved as much.
He did his best to concentrate on the plan instead of his doubt. No, not doubt, guilt.
For more than six years now, Trevor served only one mission. He played the role of a link on the Old Man's "chain" without straying. He had fought, sacrificed, and even murdered in the name of the cause. Now he risked everything to find a memory that existed only for him.
Trevor matched the guilt with anger and determination: I don't give a damn.
The conclusion of the book neared and Grover feared the looming confrontation with whatever creature waited at the end; the cartoon character begged the reader not to turn the page.
Suddenly, Jorgie's hand slapped down on the book, achieving what Grover could not: stopping Trevor from turning to the final page.
"No father! Don’t turn the page! Don’t turn the page!"
Trevo
r, surprised, asked, ""What’s wrong buddy? We've read this a dozen times."
JB visibly trembled and cried, "There’s a monster, father! There’s a monster!"
"Hey, easy does it, look, it’s not really a monster…"
Trevor turned to the last page where Grover stood alone and realizes—to his embarrassment—that the 'monster' at the end of the book is lovable, furry Grover himself.
"See, it's only Grover. He was the only monster in the book all along."
Unconvinced, JB snorted, "Grover turned out to be a monster. I don't like that book. I don't ever want to read it again."
Trevor decided not to fight the battle. "Well, next time we’ll read Green Eggs and Ham. But I have to go out to see the troops for a couple of days. Maybe mommy can read it to you."
Trevor scooted off the bed and pulled the covers to his son’s chin. Then, as per their ritual, he took JB's stuffed bunny and wrapped it in a tiny blanket.
"Snug as a bug in a rug," dad handed the wrapped bunny to his boy and then planted a kiss on JB’s forehead.
"Father, could you promise me that while you’re gone you’ll think of me every day."
"Oh, Jorge, I think of you every day anyway. You know that. But yes, I promise."
"Good," JB sounded satisfied but did not look it. "That way I know you won’t forget me."
---
Trevor gave his map with the push pins one last look over. He wondered if the Old Man possessed a similar map. Maybe Trevor played the role of a red or blue push pin. How many other pins did the Old Man have on his map?
He shook away those thoughts, slung a heavy duffle bag over his shoulder, and left his office for downstairs.
First light struggled to rise over the mountain wall surrounding the lake, meaning that most of the support staff working at the mansion had not yet begun their day. Nonetheless, he heard Lori Brewer typing away on her computer. That did not surprise him. Between raising a daughter, keeping her husband in line, and serving as "Chief Administrator" Lori always had something to do.
He decided not to disturb her; she had a tendency to see through his words so even a simple "goodbye" might open the door for more questions than he wished to answer. Yet while he managed to slip quietly by her office, he found the front door blocked by her husband--Jon Brewer—waiting in ambush.
Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels Page 5
