5 Onslaught

by Jeremy Robinson

  As the gnawing, tearing and crunching becomes sickening, I turn away. Nephilim blood has no effect on the dinosaurs. They’re natural enemies—opposing giants of the underworld, and the cresties relish the chance to feast on the purple flesh. I suspect they might get some sort of kick from the blood, like an energy boost or euphoria, which would explain their hankering for Nephilim, but if they experience any adverse symptoms from eating the supernatural meat, it can’t be more substantial than gas, which for a dinosaur, is always bad.

  With the chewing and slurping behind me, I look down to clip Whipsnap to my belt. A pair of bare feet stop in front of me. They’re feminine, but strong, lacking any decoration beyond scars. Kainda. I smile and finish clipping my weapon in place.

  I look at Kainda and see a facial expression I wasn’t expecting. I look beyond her and find Em, Kat and Mira just behind her and to the sides, all wearing the same expression—a one sided smile and a cocked eyebrow that says, “Showoff.”

  “I had to know what I could do,” I say defensively. The eyebrows inch higher. “Seriously.”

  “You almost killed us,” says Kat. Her words make me see the blood trickling down her face from a gash on her forehead. I look at Em. She’s holding her side. Mira has a hand on her opposite arm. They’re all wounded because of me.

  My smile slips away as I remember the darkness that had consumed me. I became a monster, and not for the first time. With a gasp of dread, I reach for my hair and pull it in front of my face, inspecting it like an OCD chimp mother checking her baby for flees.

  “You’re fine,” Kat says. “Your golden locks are back.”

  When I confirm this for myself, seeing no trace of red remaining, I look up at my four friends and find them smiling. “Was that—? Were you all teasing me?”

  Kainda claps a hand on my shoulder, and I haven’t condensed any atoms or anything like that, so it hurts. I wince, but smile when she says, “You fought well.”

  From Kainda, that might be the highest praise ever.

  Em says, “Nicely done, Sol.”

  My smile widens.

  “Wright would be proud,” Kat adds, trying to make this sap of a leader tear up.

  But Mira rescues me, saying, “I think he’s a freak of nature, but that’s just me.”

  We all have a good laugh, letting the tension of the past days seep away. “Are you all okay?” I ask. “Really okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Mira says, and if it had been any of the other three, who are more battle-hardened, I would have doubted it, but Mira doesn’t have the same kind of tough pride that can’t admit injury. She’d say something.

  I hear a particularly gruesome bite and swallow behind me. Kat and Mira both cringe. Em and Kainda have seen it before.

  “We should go,” Kat says.

  I nod. “Once they finish eating, we’ll leave. They can carry the five of us without any trouble. We’re just fifteen miles from the coast. We can make it by sunset.”

  “And the Nephilim?” Mira asks.

  “They’ll arrive tomorrow.” I say. “Probably in the morning. They feel about ten miles to the west.”

  “How many?” Kat asks.

  I pause, trying to think of a gentle way to break the news. Mira does it for me, not so gently.

  “We’re pretty much screwed,” Mira says.

  Kat looks to Kainda, who shrugs and nods.

  Kat grunts. “Great intel, guys.”

  Despite the dire revelation, I smile. “I’ll fill you in on the way.” I tap my head. “I have all the numbers, sizes, weapons and capabilities up here. When we get to the FOB, you can help General Holloway make sense of how to respond to it.”

  With a rekindled sense of urgency, I turn around to the eating dinosaurs, intending to disrupt their meal and get us moving. Kainda stops me with a hand on my arm. “Could I speak with you before we leave?” Her eyes flick to the side. She wants a private conversation.

  “We’ll, ahh, we’ll be right back,” I say to the others. Kainda leads me away, rounding a large tree. The backside of the tree is lined by thick ferns that come up to our thighs.

  “Could be a pack of turquins in here and we’d never know it,” I say.

  I meant it as a joke. Something to break the nervous tension I’m suddenly feeling. But Kainda doesn’t laugh.

  Instead, she whirls around and lunges at me. She gets a hand behind my head, grips my hair tightly and uses the surprise to sweep out my legs and drop me onto my back. I cough as the air is knocked from my lungs.

  I’m beneath the ferns, looking up at a ceiling of luminous green. Kainda crouches down, sliding through the growth. As she descends, I can’t help but notice her more feminine features. Her skin, though mired with mud and her own blood, gleams with sweat in a way that draws my hands. As she slips beneath the thin covering, her eyes lock onto mine. She looks almost predatory.

  I smile broadly, but a little sheepishly, too. We haven’t really had much time alone since we first kissed. Our intimate moments consist mostly of gentle touches in passing. And before Kainda...I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to interacting with members of the opposite sex. There was that foot bump once, but I don’t think that qualifies as a genuine encounter.

  “Hi,” I say dumbly.

  Kainda smiles back, and I swear I feel my insides turn to liquid.

  “You fought well,” she says.

  “You already said that,” I reply.

  “Should I kiss you, or not?” she says.

  My gut churns. “Yes, please.”

  Her smile looks almost sweet. It’s a different kind of look for her. “So polite,” she whispers, leaning down. “We’re going to have to work on that.”

  Then her lips are on mine.

  We remain still, our lips interlocked. My chest loosens. My mind relaxes. This is bliss.

  She leans back slowly. The skin of our lips sticks for a moment, not yet willing to let go. Then she’s sitting atop me, leaning over me with her hands on the ground, to either side of my head.

  “Whoa...” I whisper. “What was that for?”

  “To thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything,” she says. “And...I’m relieved you’re unharmed.” It’s a moment of rare vulnerability. It makes me adore her even more. “I thought...when the madness had you. I thought you were gone. When I looked into your eyes then, I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t—”

  I raise my hands to her face, holding her soft cheeks. “What do you see now?”

  As she looks into my eyes, a single tear falls free from her face and lands on my cheek. At the moment of impact, I feel its warmth. I can’t normally feel any temperature, hot or cold, and I’m unaffected by the results of their extremes. I can’t be burned, nor can I freeze. But I can feel the warmth of Kainda’s tears. There is power in them.

  A coolness covers my back. I can feel the earth beneath me!

  “What is it?” Kainda asks.

  “I—I can feel temperature,” I say. “I can feel the ground.” I look down and sense the warmth of Kainda’s bare legs over my waist. “I can feel you. More than I could before.”

  I hadn’t realized how much I missed feeling temperature. There is pleasure in a cool drink or in the warm touch of a woman. In the Antarctic, and the underground, not feeling was largely a blessing. There were times I should have died from exposure, but I was immune to the effects of below-freezing temperatures.

  She smiles at me. “It’s a gift.”

  I start to agree, but then wonder if my powers have left me, too. The ferns shake as a breeze of my creation wafts over them. I relax again and lean my head back on the cool, soft earth.

  “Shall I thank you now?” Kainda asks.

  “I thought you already did?”

  She smirks and leans back, reaching for her belt.

  The nervousness I felt before explodes through my body. “I know you’re my passion, but I’m not sure this is the best time to—”

&
nbsp; She draws a knife, and strangely, it puts me at ease. Like I said, we haven’t had much time to get...familiar with each other. What I thought was going to happen would have been a leap forward.

  “Relax, Solomon,” Kainda says. “Even hunters are not without their traditions. Marriage comes before any coupling.”

  Coupling. Of course hunters call it coupling. There’s no romance in the word. Still, that hunters actually get married is strangely heartwarming. I’m sure they don’t have elaborate ceremonies, rice throwing or a reception with dancing, but that the institution even exists shows that some part of them retained a notion of purity, even though they might kill someone for suggesting it.

  She lifts the blade to her palm and draws it across. The cut is neither deep nor severe. Just enough to draw blood, which drips over her hand.

  She hands the blade to me and it’s clear she wants me to do the same. I sense that this is meaningful to her, so I take the blade and place it against my palm. I simultaneously feel the warmth of her blood and the chill of the metal, then a sting as I cut my hand.

  She takes the knife from me and stabs it into the ground beside us. She holds her hand up to me, opening her fingers. When I reach out with my wounded hand, she nods. I’m doing it right. We interlace our fingers, squeezing our hands, and our blood, together.

  Kainda makes sure I’m looking in her eyes. “Say what I say.”

  I nod.

  “Blood to bind.”

  “Blood to bind.”

  “Flesh to join.”

  “Flesh to join.”

  “Man to woman.”

  “Man to woman.”

  “Woman...to man.”

  “Woman to man.”

  “Forever.”

  “Forever.”

  She separates our hands, leans down and kisses me again. The sensation is accentuated by the fact that I can now feel the heat of her lips and the warmth of her breath. I’m kind of dazed when she sits up again.

  “We have a tradition like this in the outside world,” I say, trying to hide what feels like a swoon. “We call it blood brothers, though that doesn’t really make sense for us.”

  She scrunches up her face. “No. It doesn’t.”

  “What do you call it?” I ask.

  She leans down again, smiling in a way I have never seen before. She whispers her reply in my ear. “Hunters call it ‘the bond’.”

  “Oh,” I say. Not sure why she thought blood brothers was so outlandish. The Bond has kind of a similar tough vibe.

  She whispers in my ear again, her breath tickling me “You would call it marriage, husband.”

  22

  I scramble out from under Kainda and stand bolt upright, exploding from the layer of ferns like a breaching whale. I turn to walk in one direction, change my mind and turn around, but find I can’t bring myself to move at all. My heart races as my mind tries to comprehend Kainda’s revelation.

  Marriage!

  Husband!

  The bond!

  I don’t know what to think. Or say. Or do. Where is Nephil when you need him?

  I spin around hoping to be discovered by a Nephilim. A good fight would distract me. It’s not that I don’t love Kainda. I adore her. But I don’t know what to do with the emotions I’m feeling. I’ve never felt like this before, and honestly, it terrifies me. Everything up to this point has been temporary. I was broken and then healed. I was split in two—Ull and Solomon—and rejoined. I will fight Nephil and one of us will be defeated. They’re obstacles. I can face them, and then move past them. That’s what my life has become—a struggle against finite roadblocks, all of which will one day be a part of my past. Or I’ll be dead. But this...

  Blood to bind. Flesh to join. Man to woman. Woman...to man. Forever.

  Forever!

  I’m not used to dealing with forever.

  “Solomon,” Kainda says. I turn back to find her rising from the ferns. Flickers of sunlight, filtering through the canopy, dance across her tan skin. “Are you okay?”

  She looks vulnerable. Worried. Beautiful. When I look into her eyes, all of my nervous energy flits away like dust caught in a breeze. I see her with new eyes, feeling the connection between us.

  “My wife...”

  She nods.

  “Forever.”

  She nods again. “Forever.”

  I wade through the ferns until I’m standing just inches from her. My mind is still reeling, racing through concerns and scenarios, like worrying if such a marriage is legal, but then I remember I’m technically the sole heir to all of Antarctica and to many, a king. I can write the law. Plus, Kainda and I are both hunters and the laws that govern their culture, as brutal as it might be, are no less valid than those of the United States, a country that is still in its infancy compared to the nation of hunters.

  I place my hands on her bare arms and feel her warmth again. All of my fears and concerns are forgotten. None of it matters. I pull her to me and hold her tight. “My wife.”

  When we separate, I say, “Does this mean you’re going to shave your head and walk behind me? That’s the hunter tradition, right?”

  Kainda shoots me a scowl, but can’t hide the humor in her eyes. A year ago, she wouldn’t have understood the joke. Still, she lands a solid punch on my shoulder. “Don’t push it. We might be married, but—”

  A loud gasp cuts off Kainda’s words. “What did she just say?”

  We turn to find Em standing by the tree that shielded our hasty nuptials, a hand raised to her mouth. Despite how her still-short hair, now something of a bob, makes her look cute, the knives criss-crossing her chest and waist look positively dangerous. But right now, she’s neither cute nor dangerous. She looks ready to burst, like a happy face balloon with too much air in it.

  In response, Kainda lifts her hand, revealing the self-inflicted wound. Em’s eyes grow larger and shift to me. I smile and hold up my hand, showing her the identical wound.

  The balloon pops with a squeal of joy unlike anything I’ve seen from a hunter. She hops into the ferns, clapping her hands and then dives at us, throwing her arms around our necks. She squeezes tightly and then leans back, looking at me. “Brother,” she says, and then turns to Kainda, “And now, sister.”

  Perhaps performing another ritual I am not aware of, the two women lean their foreheads together, hold for a second before separating.

  “Sister,” Kainda says.

  “Sorry to break up the huggy time,” Kat says, stepping around the tree, “but we really need to go.”

  Em whirls around, beaming. “They’re bonded!”

  Kat scrunches her face. “Not sure I need to know that.”

  “Married,” I say, clarifying for Kat.

  “Married?” Mira says, stepping around the other side of the tree. For a moment, I worry about what she’s going to say, but then she smiles and laughs, and says, “Could have picked a nicer location.”

  “Or a better time,” Kat says.

  “Hush,” Em tells her and then waves her into the ferns. “Come here.”

  Kat resists. “We need to go.”

  “This is important,” Em says.

  Kat looks dubious.

  Em fills her voice with conviction, raising her arms at the group. “We are a family. We must complete the bond.”

  Kat stares at her for a moment, looks over her shoulder and then enters the ferns. She stops in front of Em.

  “The bond is a tradition among hunters,” Em says. “It is one of the few. But it is important. Blood binds so few in the underworld, but the bond is a declaration that replaces it. You are my sister by birth, but there is a different kind of bond that makes Luca and Solomon my brothers, and Tobias my father. And now Kainda my sister.”

  Kat doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t leave, either.

  Em puts her hand around Kat’s head and pulls her down. Kat seems to understand her intention, probably from having witnessed Em and Kainda doing the same. She puts her hand on the back of Em�
��s neck and they press their foreheads together.

  “Sister,” Em says.

  “Sister,” Kat repeats, though a little more quietly.

  Em steps back and points to Kainda. “Now you two.”

  The two warriors stare at each other. Both women are hardened by lifetimes of battle and death. They no doubt see this in each other and the compulsion to resist vulnerability increases. But then Kainda steps forward and Kat follows her lead. The put their heads together and say, “Sister.”

  Kat turns to me. She steps forward, but then stops. “My husband gave his life for you. But...what I’ve learned about you since... I understand it. And I know he would have no problem doing this himself, so...” She steps forward, takes the back of my head and pushes her forehead hard against mine. “Brother.”

  I actually have to reign in my emotions when I say, “Sister.” My voice cracks. When I lift my head, I notice Mira standing nearby. Her eyes reflect a sense of pleasant wonder, but also of longing. I lift a hand in invitation.

  “What?” she says, confused. “Sol, I’m not—”

  “You have been with me from the moment I stepped foot on Antarktos, in person or in my heart. When I was lost, you saved me with a memory, with a photo and with a note.”

  She’s surprised by this. “You found that?”

  “You have supplied me with hope whenever it was needed and though we were separated by space, and even time, the small gift of confidence you gave a scared fourteen year old boy, might have been what saved my life and led me to this very spot.” I shrug. “So we’re kind of bonded already, whether you like it or not.”

  With a laugh, Mira accepts my invitation. She walks right up to me, puts her hand on the back of my neck and grins. “Which box did you check off?”

  “Huh?”

  “On the note.”

  I know exactly what she’s talking about. Every word of it flashes through my mind, perfectly recorded:

  Solomon,

  I am new to this and I’m not good at writing so I’m going to get right to the point. I like you. A lot. I’m not big on romance. Or flowers. Or girly things in general. So if that is okay with you, I’ll overlook the fact that you are clumsy. And smart. And kind. We will always be good friends. I knew it from the moment I picked you up off of my driveway. But maybe, if you’re lucky, we can be something more? I’m debating about whether or not to give this to you, because the idea of you turning me down makes me sick to my stomach. Actually, I’m pretty sure that this will make you sick to your stomach, too. So to make this simple I’m going to do something I swore I would never do.