5 Onslaught

by Jeremy Robinson

  Of course. They wouldn’t have headed inland. They would lose the support of the Navy if they did. And there is only ocean in the other direction. “Assuming they didn’t retreat.”

  “They didn’t,” she says.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Holloway knows I would hunt him down and put him in a hurt locker.”

  We leave the husk of a building and split up to search every inch of the camp. On my way to the outer wall, I spot Mira standing still and looking down at a patch of earth. A lump forms in my throat when I realize what she’s looking at—Xin’s grave.

  I find myself walking to her, the wall a distant memory. The earth covering Xin’s body no longer looks fresh. It’s as dark and muddy as the rest of the ground inside the base. If not for the stone, still in place, there would be nothing to distinguish it as a grave.

  I step up next to her, looking at the stone. A single word is inscribed on it, carved by my hand with a knife: Xin.

  “The body buried here looks just like you?” Mira asks. I told her the story just once. She has a good memory. Although it’s not exactly an easy story to forget.

  “We were twins,” I say.

  “But not at first?”

  “At first, he looked like a gatherer. White, scaly skin. Yellow eyes. Moved through the underground like a snake. Nearly killed me.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  “I saved him.”

  She lets out a laugh. “Seems to be the story of your life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All the people following you—” She motions to the gravestone. “—giving their lives for you. They all wanted to kill you, but in the end, your mercy and forgiveness saved them.” She motions behind us with her head despite there being nothing there. “Including your hoochie mamma wife.”

  “What’s a hoochie mamma?” I ask.

  “Never mind,” she says. “The point is, well, I don’t know what the point is. I guess I’m just glad to know you.”

  I stand in silence for a moment, absorbing the compliment. I’m about to dismiss myself and continue my search when Mira asks, “What’s the arrow for?”

  I scrunch my forehead. “What arrow?”

  “On the gravestone,” she says. “Did Xin use a bow and arrow?”

  I kneel down and inspect the gravestone more carefully. It’s really just a basketball size hunk of granite I pulled out of the ground. It’s smooth, but not polished. I find the arrow etched into its gray surface, near the bottom, almost covered by mud. I didn’t make this. Why would someone else? What does it mean? I look in the direction the arrow is pointing and see nothing but ruins and the ocean beyond.

  Mira crouches down next to me. “Maybe you’re supposed to flip it over. You know, like it’s a piece of paper?”

  My response is to lunge forward, grasp the stone and flip it over. The other side is devoid of anything interesting, but it’s also covered in mud. With a thought, I condense water from the humid air and force it beneath the mud, souring the stone clean. Two strings of numbers are revealed, each with a single decimal point.

  Mira and I look at each other, eyes wide and say the same thing, “Coordinates!”

  25

  As it turns out, they headed south. But there isn’t a single tank tread, wheel groove or boot scuff to show their passage. Kat thinks they took helicopters and ships. It would have been a massive troop relocation in just a few days, but doable. The question is, why move at all?

  Knowing our answer lies roughly an hour to the south, we head out, rejoining with Grumpy and Zok on the far side of the mine field. With the sky dimming to a deep purple hue, we ride fast and in silence, keenly aware that just hours separate us from a desperate battle for which we are not yet prepared.

  But there is one more obstacle in our way. A cliff, rising from the coast and stretching far inland creates a natural barrier that not even a behemoth could force his way through. We stop a half mile away, craning our necks up at the towering cliffs. I see no sign of human defenses at its base or at its top.

  “I’m just going to put this out there,” Mira says, “just in case any of you tough-as-nails types are thinking it. I’m not climbing up this cliff.”

  No one argues.

  “Heading inland will take us too close to the Nephilim,” Em says. “Their scouts have no doubt discovered the ruse and have changed the army’s course.”

  “I could try flying us over,” I say.

  Grumpy lets out an uncomfortable roar and four women, five if you count Zok, turn to me with looks that say, “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Word to the wise, kid,” Kat says. “When you’re talking about flying five people and two dinosaurs half a mile up into the air, don’t use the word ‘try’. Besides, none of that will be necessary. The military is running the show. They wouldn’t leave us a way to find them if reaching them was impossible.”

  “I could open a tunnel through the cliff,” I say.

  “Save your energy,” Kat says. “You’re going to need it. And we don’t know how thick the cliff is. Could be a mile across at the top.”

  “Where to, then?” I ask.

  She points to the left. “Where the cliff meets the ocean.”

  Grumpy turns in the direction Kat is pointing, but doesn’t move until I give him a gentle nudge with my heels. Then we’re off and running, but not for long. The jungle growth here is new and thick. The cresties have a hard time walking through, so we have to dismount and clear a path. Again, I could use my powers, but Kat is right, any unnecessary use of my abilities will drain me some, and we have no idea how long it will be until I need them in a big way.

  By the time we reach the base of the cliff, the last light of day is struggling to stay above the horizon. Where the stone wall rises from the sea is cloaked in deep shadow, black as night. Despite the darkness, I have no trouble making out the ledge jutting out over the sea, which is roaring a hundred feet below. It’s just eight feet wide, barely big enough for the cresties to pass single file. It’s wide enough for a band of humans or a line of Nephilim, but they would be easy targets. And since Nephilim are prone to dying when they drown, the wingless variety would likely avoid this route.

  “I can’t see a thing,” Mira complains. She takes out her glowing blue crystal, but this isn’t the inside of a cave, where the light can reflect. It lights our party’s faces in dull blue, but that’s about it.

  “Let me see,” I say, taking the orb from her. “The crystals glow because the molecules are active. When they collide, they glow. The color is determined by which elements are dominant in the crystal.” Suddenly, the sphere blossoms with light, illuminating the ground, the cliff and the ledge. It’s so bright that it hurts to look directly at it.

  “What did you do?” Mira asks.

  “Sped up the molecules so they collide harder and more frequently.”

  “It’s not going to explode or something?” she asks.

  “I don’t think so,” I say.

  Kat laughs. “You really need to work on your declarative statements. Even if you’re not sure, sound sure.”

  I start to sigh, but she cuts me off.

  “I’m not kidding. You’re going to be sending men to their deaths. If you don’t sound confident about the benefit of their sacrifice, or the chance of their survival, they’re going to head for the hills. Armies are only as brave as their leader.”

  “No one is braver,” Kainda says, stepping between Kat and I. “Do not insult him again.”

  “I have no doubt about his abilities,” Kat says. “But whatever army we have waiting for us doesn’t know him beyond the rumors they’ve heard, or the show he put on at the FOB. Beyond that, he’s just one man. And he hasn’t earned their confidence yet. If he’s not exuding confidence in the way he talks, or even walks, they’re going to see it.”

  I put a hand on Kainda’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s right.”

  “So let me hear it,” Kat says.
“Are we going to win this war?”

  “Yes,” I say quickly, but it almost sounds like a question.

  Kat grunts. “Going to have to work on your lying, too.” She heads for the ledge, stopping at the edge. The cliff is two hundred feet thick and the ledge stretches the entire distance. But I see nothing to indicate a human presence on the other side.

  “How far are we from the coordinates?” I ask.

  “Almost on top of them,” Kat says, then raises the radio to her lips. “This is Katherine Ferrell looking for General Kent Holloway, does anyone copy?”

  There’s just a moment of static before a deep voice with a thick Russian accent answers, “Da, we read you. Please state business.”

  Kat switches to speaking Russian and the conversation flows much more quickly. After a brief exchange, Kat lowers the radio. “This is the place.”

  “This is where my parents are?” Mira asks.

  “Da,” Kat says. “Welcome to Mother Russia.” With that, she steps out onto the ledge and starts toward the far end. Grumpy and Zok take some coaxing, but eventually follow us onto the ledge. I really don’t know if the stone will hold their several ton weight, but if we fall, I have no doubt I can catch us all, despite how insecure my words might sound.

  Halfway across, Em says, “This seems too easy. Too undefended.”

  “There are bombs under the ledge,” Kat says.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “They told me,” she replies. “Said they would blow us up if we did anything funny.”

  “And you’re telling us now because?” Mira says.

  Kat smiles. “That aghast look on your face never gets old.”

  Before Mira can retort, the same deep Russian voice, no longer distorted by the radio, shouts out. “Is far enough. State your business.”

  “I already did,” grumbles Kat, and I can tell she’s about to volley a string of angry Russian in their direction.

  “Let me handle this,” I say, stepping forward.

  “You sure you—”

  I shoot her a look that shows how serious I am, and then reach a hand out to Mira. “Light, please.”

  Mira puts the crystal in my hand. I give Kainda a wink, which makes her smile, and step forward.

  With every step I take, the light grows brighter. The end of the ledge is lined with thick brush hiding the Russian from view.

  “That’s close enough!” the Russian says again, sounding angry now, almost like he’s in pain.

  “They’re wearing night vision goggles,” Kat hisses from behind. “The light is hurting their eyes.”

  I stand my ground. “Are you in charge of this outpost?”

  “Da,” says the Russian.

  “Can you see me?” I ask.

  “Da,” he says again.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Silence.

  They’re either obstinate, unsure or unconvinced. “You know the name, Katherine Ferrell?

  “Da,” the man says again, “But we also know of the shifters.”

  They’ve been educated. This is good. “Then you know that shifters can’t do this.” A wind picks me up off the ground and I float closer to the end of the ledge. I set myself down again, encouraged by the fact that I haven’t been shot at. I’m just ten feet from the brush when I say, “Show yourself.”

  To my surprise, the brush stands up. And it’s not just one man, it’s twenty, each sporting a high caliber weapon. The largest of them, a man who looks like a bush, whose face is painted black, steps forward and removes a pair of night vision goggles. His eyes are bright blue, the kind of eyes I picture women swooning for, but they also look deadly.

  He raises an assault rifle at my face. “Your name?”

  I speak calmly and confidently. “I am Solomon Ull Vincent, the last hunter and your leader. You will let us pass now.”

  His bright white teeth flash with a grin. He steps to the side and the other camouflaged men pass. They watch us pass with intense stares, but give the dinosaurs a wider birth. Once we’re past, the men resume their positions, becoming the forest once again.

  Kat slides up next to me. “Good job.” I start to say, “Thanks,” but she speaks over me. “Lucky they didn’t shoot you, though. Spetsnaz aren’t known for their patience.”

  Spetsnaz? While I don’t know much about the details of military weaponry, I do know about the major military units. Spetsnaz are the Russian special forces whose training regimen isn’t that dissimilar from the breaking of a hunter. It would make Rambo cry like a little girl. In fact, hunters might be the only fighting force on the planet whose training is more grueling.

  “Well, I say, if I can impress Spetsnaz, maybe there’s hope for me ye—”

  I stop in my tracks. We’re standing at the top of a hill leading down to a massive clearing where a mind-numbing sight awaits us.

  Mira says, “Holy—”

  “Now this is more like it,” Kat adds.

  Kainda says nothing, but she’s smiling, and takes my hand in hers, our still fresh bonding wounds pressed against each other.

  It’s Em who notes the one detail that is less impressive, but perhaps the most strange. “I’ve never seen that flag before.”

  She’s right. There are several flags billowing in the wind, all lit by a variety of spotlights. They’re not any of the most likely subjects: American, Russian, Chinese or any European nation. The first aberration from standard nation flags is that they’re mostly white, which normally is a sign of surrender. But there is a splotch of green at the center of the flag. The shape is hard to make out, but there is a single yellow star at the core. A stiff breeze directed by my thoughts holds the flag straight out long enough for me to discern the shape: Antarctica. “It’s an Antarctican flag.”

  26

  While the rest of the base is impressive, the Antarctican flag and the unity it reveals makes me beam with pride for my fellow man. It’s hard to believe that soldiers from different nations could come together under a single banner, but there it is, waving in the breeze, a symbol of our resistance against the monsters that would not just dominate us, but erase our presence from the planet.

  But I don’t linger on the flag for long. The base is a beehive of activity and my eyes flash back and forth, taking in every nook and cranny. The strangest thing about the base is that is appears to be a combination of modern fortifications and ancient. It’s surrounded by tall, twenty foot walls. Some are gray stone—granite, I think, now braced with steel beams, and some are massive steel plates welded together. There are men across the top, and more halfway down, aiming their weapons through long windows. Several watchtowers overlook the base, once again a mix of old and new construction. I see snipers, so many snipers, keeping watch from the tall lookouts. Within the massive base are a group of modern buildings similar to what we saw at the FOB, but they’re surrounding what looks like a Mayan pyramid, beneath which runs a tunnel. Just beyond the buildings are two lines of artillery—howitzers, I think, all aimed toward the distance, their crews nearby and ready to fire.

  Closer to the ocean, on a flat stretch of grass, is an array of attack helicopters laden with armaments. I recognize a few, but most are more modern than anything I’ve seen, and the variety suggests they belong to numerous nations. I quickly count fifty. They’re not up and running, but I assume the pairs of men waiting by the open cockpits are the pilots.

  My eyes travel further to the left, out to sea, where I see the silhouettes of so many Navy vessels they look like one massive ship, covered in flashing lights. Their numbers are impossible to count in the dark, but at least a few of them are aircraft carriers. I can tell because the air roars with the sounds of patrolling jets.

  Looking back to the base, I observe the front lines. Beyond the front wall, which will slow a Nephilim, but not stop it, there is something far more formidable. Tanks. Nearly a hundred of them. Lined up side by side, all aimed toward the west. And more are rumbling into place, arriving in a stea
dy stream from transports at the coast, which gently slopes to the water. In front of the tanks are several long trenches filled with men and weapons. Before the trenches, a field of razor wire, and before that, a clearing that is no doubt laden with mines.

  Perhaps the strangest thing about this force lies on the opposite side of the base from where I am now. Cresties. Maybe three hundred of the dinosaurs, lying on the ground, just waiting for the fight to begin. As creatures of violence, hunting and killing every day of their lives in an environment far harsher than this and filled with hunters and Nephilim, this is just another day. They might live. They might die. But either way, they’ll fight the Nephilim like they always have. Despite the fact that they can have a taste for human beings, these creatures have done more to reduce the ranks of the Nephilim over the past few thousand years than any man. I’m glad they’re here, and I send Zok and Grumpy off to join them.

  It’s an impressive army. Enough to conquer nations. But while this powerful army of perhaps a hundred thousand, bolstered by the strength of modern weapons, can wreak havoc on a scale of Biblical proportions, they face an enemy numbering a million of genuine Biblical proportions, who can heal from any number of wounds and who enjoy the pain. If the two behemoths make it to the base, they’d just have to fall over and much of it would be destroyed beneath their girth.

  Still, it’s a far better defense than the previous FOB, and our chances of survival are higher, if just by a little. Deep down, I know that the size of the base and number of tanks isn’t going to affect the outcome of this battle. That will come down to me. And Nephil.

  Solomon!

  The voice in my head makes me flinch.

  Kainda tenses next to me. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I say, and then smile. “Luca caught me off guard.”

  I’m vaguely aware of Mira asking about Luca and Em giving an explanation as I focus on my thoughts and reply. Luca! Are you in the new base?

  Under the temple, he thinks. It’s where the leaders are. General Holloway is here. So are Merrill and Aimee.