5 Onslaught

by Jeremy Robinson

  She sees Kainda as a threat, like she did me before her memory was restored. Thankfully, her offer to protect me is probably the best thing she could have done.

  I look up at Kainda, and she at me. We maintain our straight faces for just a moment, but then break out laughing. Our voices roll through the cavern, echoing back to us. It’s ten seconds before either of us can control ourselves, but when we finally do, and I look at Mira again, she just looks annoyed.

  I sit up and hold up my hands, much like I did when Mira had the knife to my throat. “It’s okay, Mira, she’s with me.”

  “I’m with you?” Kainda says, her tone revealing that she has not forgotten about the shower of kisses.

  I get to my feet, clear my throat and motion to Kainda. “Mira, this is Kainda.” I shift my arms toward Mira. “Kainda, meet Mira.” I turn back to Kainda. “You know who she is and what she is to me.” Back to Mira. “Mira, Kainda and I are, you know...together.”

  She looks at me, not understanding, but then her eyes go wide and she smiles. “Ohh, she’s your girlfriend.”

  I start to nod, but then Kainda says, “I still do not know the meaning of this word. Girlfriend. I do not like it. It sounds weak.” She steps closer, into the light cast by a collection of blue stones. Her beautiful face, strong body and scant hunter’s garb are revealed. “I am his passion.”

  Kainda speaks earnestly, naïve to the meaning the word might convey to an outsider.

  Mira doesn’t miss it. She gives a lopsided grin and says, “I bet you are.” She lowers the knife and ribs me with her elbow, “Not bad, Schwartz.”

  “Schwartz?” Kainda says the name slowly. She’s never heard the nickname before. And I have no intention of explaining it now, not just because it embarrasses me, but because I’d have to explain the Spaceballs movie to someone who has never even seen a television. Winning the war against the Nephilim might be a simpler task.

  “Never mind that,” I say. “What we need—”

  “Wait,” Mira says. “I want a few answers, the first of which is, what—exactly—am I to you?”

  “Huh?”

  “You might have a perfect memory,” Mira says, “But mine is pretty good, too. You said, ‘you know who she is and what she is to me.’ So I would like to know who I am and what I am to you.” She crosses her arms. “If you don’t mind.”

  This could take a while, but we’re safe here and I get the feeling that I’m going to have to spill the beans to fully gain Mira’s trust. I might be Sol to her, but she is no doubt rattled by her recent experiences. I rub my hand through my hair, trying to think of the best way to start. Do I begin with my kidnapping and do the chronological thing? Do I jump to recent events? I slap the side of my face a few times, lost in thought.

  Kainda makes up my mind for me. She answers in her blunt way, delivering the truth like a missile. “You’re Hope.”

  Mira scrunches up her face. “Actually, I’m Mira.”

  I sigh. “That’s not what she meant.”

  “Then what did she mean?”

  “You’re...” I wander away, crossing my arms as I remember those years spent underground, in hiding, with nothing but a Polaroid photo of Mira and me for company. “You’re my hope.”

  She looks even more flabbergasted when I turn around. “You might want to sit down, this is going to take a while.”

  I start at the beginning. My birth. I tell her about her mother and the words she spoke to me at my birth, “You are a precious boy.” I do my best to summarize our trip, my kidnapping, breaking and transformation into Ull. I’m not sure she’s buying it all, but there are tears in her eyes. Even Kainda looks sullen and I realize she hasn’t heard me tell the whole story, starting from my birth and moving forward.

  When I get to the final test I faced as Ull and reveal that I was the person who took her mother all those years ago, the tears disappear. But when I quickly relate what happened next, how her mother saved me and how we’ve been allied since, the tears return.

  “You were just a kid,” she says, after I tell how I swallowed the physical body of Nephil, escaped from Asgard and killed the Nephilim, Ull, son of Thor—my master. “That you survived at all is a miracle.”

  I’ve always been too busy feeling guilty about my failures to consider that most people would have died. I was strong without ever knowing it. But part of that strength came from the memory of the woman now sitting across from me.

  I relate the rest of the story, trying to focus on major events, but I find myself talking for almost an hour. By the time I’m done, she’s heard it all. The photo. Tartarus. The Titans. Cronus. Hades. Kainda, Em, Luca and Xin. Everything. Including the angel’s proclamation about faith, passion, focus and hope, and my subsequent revelation that those qualities were, in fact, people—Em, Kainda, Kat and now, Mira.

  To finish things off, I retell the story of her rescue and how we ended up in a cavern several hundred feet below ground.

  After hearing all of this, most of which I fully admit is ridiculous to say the least, her response is to lean back on her hands and says, “Huh,” like I just told her the Red Sox traded Wade Boggs.

  I assume she’s just trying to digest everything I’ve told her, or maybe trying to figure out if I’m nuts and whether or not she should make a run for it. After several minutes of silence she says, “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were kidnapped, turned into a hunter—” she points at Kainda, “by her father, Ninnis, took my mother, caused the crustal displacement event that killed billions, all because the Nephilim want you to be the vessel for the spirit of Nephil, aka Ophion, their leader. And now you’re leading a group of rebel hunters, the U.S. military and a pack of Crylos against them in an attempt to save humanity as we know it. Oh, and you have powers because you’re supernaturally bonded to the continent. That about sum it up?”

  I look at Kainda, then back to Mira. “Yeah, actually, I think you’ve got a handle on the situation. But...you’re okay with it? You believe it? All of it?”

  “I’ve seen the Nephilim with my own eyes. And the dinosaurs, though I have a hard time believing they’ve turned nice, and I even kind of remember your seal buddies saving me. But...” She shakes her head. “My father sees patterns. He’s grown blunter about it since you knew him. Calls it the fingerprint of God. I normally think he’s nuts, but everything you’re saying... I don’t see any other way around it, especially given the fact that I’m here at all.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask.

  “When the crust shifted, I was at home.”

  “In Portsmouth,” I say.

  She nods. “I watched as the water slipped out of the bay.

  I cringe inwardly, knowing what will happen next.

  “And I watched it return. The wall of water slid through the city. It killed everyone, including my friends. And then, it rolled up the hill.”

  “Prospect Hill,” I say. “Two hundred feet tall.”

  “The water rose to the foundation of my house. It took my neighbors, and nearly took me. I was knocked unconscious, but I survived. And when I woke up, the world was frozen. The house was no longer at the top of the hill, it was the only building still standing on a plain of ice that stretched to the horizon. I survived in the basement for months before heading south, where Wright, Kat and Cruz found me in a church. The point is, I was the only survivor in New Hampshire. The only survivor. And somehow I ended up here, with you, and am now told that I’m one of four women you need to save the world. What are the odds of that happening by chance?”

  “Probably zero,” I say. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with, too.

  “It’s crazy. Borderline stupid. Hell, I spent the last few weeks arguing against the idea with my father. But now, after everything I’ve seen, and what you’ve told me, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be here. Just like you are.” She looks at Kainda. “And you are.” She shrugs. “I don’t know about you two, but that is what gives me hope.”

 
; Kainda chuckles and says, “Adoel was right about this one.”

  I smile so wide it hurts.

  Hope has arrived.

  8

  Now that the three of us are a little better acquainted, Kainda lets her guard down a bit. She had been pacing during the retelling of my story, arms crossed and brow furrowed, but she looks more at ease now, as relaxed as she allows herself to get while in hostile territory, at least. She sits on the cavern floor next to me, unclipping her battle hammer and laying it beside her.

  I’m sure she still feels threatened by Mira, so I put my hand atop hers and lace our fingers together. Mira sees the gesture and frowns.

  The part of me that is an average young man wonders if Mira is actually interested in me still, after all these years. Things like that happen, I think. The idea makes me nervous and uncomfortable, and I’m a little surprised that I hope that is not the case. Without meaning to, Mira became a central figure in my life, but the part of me that bumped feet with her, clung to that photo and checked off a box in the note she left behind has grown up.

  “I was married,” she says, and all of my worry melts away.

  “Mirabelle Whitney,” I say.

  “Did my father tell you?” she asks.

  “Remember when you took the boat down the river?” I ask. “From the citadel? Before you killed Enki?”

  She nods.

  “We were in the trees. On our way to help. You passed just beneath us and I overhead someone call you Whitney. Just put two and two together. Is he...”

  “Alive?” she finishes for me. “No. But don’t worry, he wasn’t, you know...it wasn’t the crustal displacement. He was shot, by a robber who wanted my watch. Just over a year ago, actually. Tried to defend me. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “What was his name?” Kainda asks.

  “Sam.” Mira’s head dips toward the floor. “His name was Sam. Well, Samuel, but I never called him that.”

  I’m more than a little surprised when Kainda lets go of my hand and puts two of her fingers under Mira’s chin. The touch is gentle and caring in a way that was never modeled for Kainda, so this is all her. She lifts Mira’s face so they’re looking eye-to-eye. “If he died defending you, and you believe you were meant to be here, then it was not a stupid thing to do. It was brave. That’s how you should remember him.”

  Mira sniffs back some tears and gives a nod. “Maybe, except that he was more like Sol when we first met. Kind of a nerd. Clumsy. Never really stood a chance.” She looks at me. “But that’s not exactly true either, because look at you now. You’re like Tarzan or Ka-Zar, or something.”

  We smile together.

  “Seriously, do you swing from vines?” she asks with a sniff, signifying the conversation about her past has come to a close.

  I chuckle and say, “I can sort of fly, remember? Don’t really need the vines. But I probably could.”

  Kainda is once again lost by the pop culture references and looks resigned to wait for the shifting conversation to end. But then Mira pulls her back in. “Can I see that?” Mira points to the hammer lying beside Kainda.

  “My hammer?” Kainda asks. I’m not sure she’s ever let anyone hold her hammer. Not even me. Not that I’ve asked, but I think I’ve always assumed it would be a bad idea. They seem kind of attached.

  “Yeah,” Mira says. “Looks intense.”

  “Intense,” Kainda says slowly, thinking on the word. “It has tasted the blood of human, Nephilim, crylophosaurs and countless other denizens of the underworld. ‘Intense’ is a good word.” She lifts the hammer as though it weighs little more than a dead branch, and holds it out to Mira.

  As soon as Mira has the handle, Kainda lets go and the hammer yanks Mira’s arm down. The stone head clunks against the cave floor. Mira laughs and takes the handle with two hands, grunting as she lifts it up. “Holy damn, woman. You’re strong.”

  Kainda beams with pride. Maybe its that the legendary “girl in the photo” is giving her such high praise, or that she could clearly take Mira in a fight, I don’t know, but she’s enjoying the moment.

  But then Mira goes and steers the conversation into a telephone pole. “This looks like Mjölnir, but smaller.”

  Kainda and I both stare at her, unmoving.

  “Mjölnir,” she says again. “You know, Thor’s hammer. You’d think you two would know this since...”

  I can see her mind working. She’s figuring it out.

  “Since what?” Kainda asks, her face grim.

  “You knew him?” Mira asks. “The real Thor, I mean?”

  “Yes,” Kainda says, taking the hammer back. She stands, clips the weapon in place and starts walking away.

  Mira looks to me for an explanation.

  “Hunters are trained to use the preferred weapon of their masters,” I say.

  It takes a second to sink in, but then Mira’s eyes go wide with understanding. “She was Thor’s...but...” She stands quickly, shouting, “Kainda, wait!”

  I know for a fact that chasing Kainda down when she’s just stormed away to be on her own is a bad idea. I jump up and head off after Mira, but she’s running now and has a good lead.

  Also, Kainda has stopped walking. She turns and faces Mira with a look that could make a Nephilim warrior squeal in fright. She’s about to say something, but Mira beats her to the punch—luckily, not an actual punch.

  “You must have just missed it,” Mira says, oblivious to Kainda’s dark mood. “Back on the river, when we escaped in the boat, Thor was one of the Nephilim chasing us.”

  “Then you are truly lucky to be alive,” Kainda says and starts to turn away.

  Mira puts her hand on Kainda’s arm, stopping her.

  “Mira,” I whisper, but before I can finish my warning, Mira finishes her story.

  “Kainda,” she says. “We ran Thor over in the boat. The water washed right over him. He drowned.”

  Kainda whips around toward Mira. “Drowned?”

  Mira nods. “Thor is dead.”

  I have seen the transformation a hunter goes through upon learning his or her master has died. It’s like an invisible bond is severed and all the tension and hatred created by the connection is released. I saw it with Tobias, Em’s foster father, when he learned that I killed Ull, his former master. But his reaction is mild in comparison to what Kainda experiences.

  Her hammer slips from her hand and lands with a thud. She falls to her knees beside it, arms shaking. She looks up at her quaking hands for a moment, clenching them tightly, probably frightened by the intensity of her own emotions. Then a sob escapes her lips and I’m by her side, on my knees, wrapping my arms around her.

  Kainda’s powerful body wilts under my touch. Her muscles go slack. Her back shakes with each sob and tears, bona fide tears—from Kainda—drip onto the cave floor.

  I have no idea what to say. Or even if I should say anything. Kainda is more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words type, so I decide to stay quiet. My presence and physical contact are enough.

  When I open my eyes and lift my head, I surprised to find Mira kneeling down on Kainda’s other side, one hand around her lower back, the other holding their heads together like they’ve known each other their whole lives. I can hear Mira whispering. She speaks about pain and loss, strength and courage, and about love. I only catch bits and pieces, but I hear my name in there a few times.

  When Mira pulls away, all of the tension is gone from Kainda’s body. She’s no longer shaking and her strength has returned. She sits up, takes a breath and looks at me. Nothing physical has changed, but she looks different somehow. Not exactly a softness, but something...wonderful. While the Jericho shofar freed her from the Nephilim corruption, some part of her must have still been bound to her former master, maybe not physically or supernaturally, but mentally. Perhaps she feared facing him someday. Who knows what tortures he performed on her. Or maybe she feared realigning with him if he commanded it. Whatever the case, that part of her is gone. Sh
e is really and truly free.

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. Then she’s on her feet, clipping her hammer to her belt and acting as if nothing at all happened.

  Message received, I think, don’t talk about it.

  I’m pretty sure Mira picked up on the cue, too, because she moves on to a new topic without missing a beat. “So what’s next? We need to get to the FOB, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Your parents will be happy to see you.”

  Mira gets a concerned look on her face. “Have...you heard about your parents?”

  Fear grips my chest. Adoel didn’t want me to know, one way or the other, about my parents, but that was right before I was to face Ophion in battle. Maybe it would be alright to know now? But I already know, don’t I? If what Mira described about the crustal displacement event is accurate, and I believe it is, then the coast of Maine where my parents lived wouldn’t have fared any better than New Hampshire. “They’re dead, right? They must be.”

  “Actually,” Mira says. “I have no idea. But...they moved to New Mexico a few years back. From what I understand, the climate is pretty nice there now.”

  “Oh,” I say. “That’s...good to know.” Once again, Hope delivers. And that’s where I’m going to leave it. No more wondering, speculation or worry. If I dwell on the fate of my parents, I’ll never be able to focus on what needs to be done next. “We should get going. The FOB is three days from here and we have no idea how long it will be before—

  The floor shakes beneath my feet.

  I stop and listen.

  The shaking returns, this time with an audible rumble.

  “Maybe this is a dumb question,” Mira says, “But what is that?”

  I look at Kainda and see my fears reflected in her eyes.

  I sigh.

  “Footsteps.”

  9

  “You said we were hundreds of feet underground.” Mira glances around the dull blue cavern. I can see a good distance in far less light than this, but she probably can’t see more than fifty feet, which is probably disconcerting. “Is something down here with us?”