When darkness began to fall Willie had the driver pull to the side of the road, and called another young man forward from one of the two vehicles behind them to drive through the night.
Willie ordered the man who had been driving to head back to one of the other trucks and get some sleep as he would be taking over again come morning.
The would be replacement had started to protest about how he hadn't gotten any sleep, and how he wasn't so sure he could drive through the night, when Willie had pulled a small nine millimeter pistol from his waist band and emptied the clip into him. As he shoved another clip into the pistol he had asked if anyone else wanted to bitch about sleep. No one had, and he had selected someone else to drive, and also made sure that the other drivers were replaced in the trucks behind his.
"You should've fuckin' thought about sleeping before," Willie said as he kicked what was left of the man’s head before he turned and climbed back into the truck, "stupid ass-hole."
Willie managed to get some sleep himself during the night, and when he awoke just before dawn they were entering the Oswego city limits. He knew about the railroad bridge, after they had stopped and once again switched drivers they slowly trundled over the bridge and continued onward. Later that day, almost nightfall really, they skirted around the exit for Webster and headed towards Fairport and then Rochester.
Alien
Far away, in a desert that was so much like any other on earth, but yet was not, and in fact was older than the earth itself, two large armies faced each other across rolling dunes of sand as cold moonlight spilled upon them from the star-less heavens.
A shining golden sword quivered where it stood protruding from the sands, separating all but two of the assembled thousands in the desert night. The two stared at each other across a space of bare inches, and their steeds, both large and magnificent; one white, one darker than the night they stood in, faced each other almost as if they too were staring at one another. The masses of silent armies stretched away farther than the desert itself, which was without any real end.
Separated from the mounted pair by a vast ocean, a white robed figure sat silently upon a heavy gold throne studded with jewels of all manner, and stared across the waters at the two riders where they faced each other in the desert.
The ocean, although perceived as vast, was not so to the figure. If the figure had so desired, it would have only to stretch one hand across the water, and sweep all from the desert with one small swipe. It had no wish however to do so. The figure only sat and watched the two riders with seemingly great interest... Waiting.
As if by some unseen signal the two riders dismounted, and faced each other in the dim light. Their steeds reared and galloped off into the desert night, snorting fire and steam as they went. Their massive muscles worked beneath their lathered coats, and soon they were out of sight. The stillness of the desert once again bore down upon all within it.
Neither man carried any visible weapons of any kind, and although they continued to stare only at each other, seeming to block out all else, both were careful not to be perceived as threatening by the other. It was more as if they were studying one another.
One was known by only two names that could be pronounced with a human tongue, but several that could not, and would never be. The first name was Michael, the second was The Protector. He was a tall and powerfully built young man. His magnificent golden hair was pulled back and bound at the nape of his neck with a leather thong, his deep and expressive eyes held no single color, but instead seemed to shift constantly between shades of red, blue, sometimes pausing and seeming about to settle on one, and then just as suddenly returning to their previous shifting phases of colors. His powerful body seemed as if it had been carved from stone, and somehow seeded with life. Individual muscles flowed smoothly, yet powerfully, beneath the white leather and golden armor he wore. His bronzed arms were bare to the night and the leather tunic ended just above his knees, exposing his powerfully muscled legs and sandal clad feet. He carefully studied the other rider as they circled one another.
The other young man had several names, but was most often referred to simply as The Defender, because of the position he held as speaker for the evil one. He was dressed similarly, only black leather replaced the white, and silver replaced the gold. He was almost as tall as Michael, falling only an inch shorter than Michael's six foot seven inches. His hair was black, almost blue in its intensity, and his eyes were the green of the deep sea. His muscular bulk nearly matched that of Michael's as well, and it seemed despite their differences that they were similar enough to have been brothers. Their rugged faces were similar, even the style in which both had tied their long and curled hair behind them. Their eyes, although vastly different, were nearly equal in the expressiveness they held, and they seemed almost able to communicate with them alone.
The night was absolutely silent. No winds swept the dunes, no wolves howled in the desert night. All was totally and completely silent. Even the crowds that were separated by the golden sword and the two men who faced each other were silent. Nothing moved, save the two that continued to circle one another as all eyes watched, and waited.
They had been brothers once, but that was long ago, and so far away from this world that it meant little to either of them. In truth they both would have been hard pressed to recall it, and if they had it still would have been meaningless.
Although it may have seemed to any unknowing watcher, that they were only perceived as good, or evil, they did not perceive one another in that way. Both understood the concept of good and evil, but neither thought of themselves, or each other, in those terms. When they had chance to meet, such as now, only the figure in the distance could perceive their purpose, or even understand it. They were only good and evil, in the human minds that inhabited the earth, which was far from this barren desert. That was the only medium humans would be capable of considering them in.
The moon traveled slowly across the dark sky as they continued to circle one another, and was replaced by two fiery suns that crossed the sky, only to be once again usurped by the greenish cast of moonlight. Still, they made no move, seeming to speak instead with their eyes, and their bodies, as they circled each other. Even during the day, when the two suns had traveled across the sky baking the desert sands, and causing shimmering heat waves to rise from the surface, no sounds of any kind broke the silence that held the desert scene.
When the suns were once again rising from opposite directions to travel the alien sky once more, they stopped and faced each other. They nodded almost imperceptibly and clasped their muscled arms together, hands gripping the elbows of the other. The contact was brief, and when both had withdrawn their hands from the other, they drew back a few steps and paused.
They spoke aloud for the first time, but not with anything that resembled words, or any type of language. A guttural utterance, more felt than heard. When they finished they both nodded once more and stepped even farther apart.
Far in the distance the sounds of hoof beats began to pound in the strangely lit morning air. They grew louder until the two steeds suddenly appeared and pounded into the small clearing of sand in which the two young men stood. Foam dripped from their open mouths, and their flanks ran with sweat. Their eyes rolled as they slowed; each approaching the rider for which it was intended, and once there waiting to be mounted.
Michael turned, and walked to where the golden sword still quivered in the sand. His muscles bunched and stood out, as he pulled the sword from the rock that it lay buried in beneath the sand. A similar beaten silver sword swung from the side of the dark steed, in a long leather sheath. The Defender turned, and withdrew the sword from the sheath and turned back to face Michael.
Michael hefted the sword only momentarily, and then slipped it into a leather loop where it hung suspended from his side. The Defender followed his lead, and then, nodding once more, both remounted their steeds and sped off in opposite directions through the desert sands.
> Those assembled seemed to melt, rather than actually move, slowly backwards into the desert. Within seconds, miles, instead of feet, separated them.
Minutes later sounds began to flood into the still desert, almost overwhelming in their intensity after the deep silence that had held for so long.
The pounding rhythm of steel against steel rang out from both directions assaulting the previously still air, and the sounds of thousands upon thousands of whinnying and snorting mounts filled the air.
Great clouds of dust began to form in the distance from both directions the riders had galloped off to. The twin suns continued their relentless travel across the sky, and presently the moon once again cast its cold light upon the desert.
Fires could be seen burning in the far distance, on either horizon. It almost seemed as though the suns had set the edges of the desert alight as they had sunk in the sky.
Much later the twin suns seemed to rise out of the fires, and began to sweep across the sky. The clouds of dust in the distant rose higher, and the ringing of metal against metal ceased, only to be replaced by the sound of thunder produced by the hooves of the thousands of steeds that were now racing across the desert floor towards one another.
The steeds reeled and reared as they once again met where the sands still bore the scar of the sword that had been plunged through them into the rock below. Behind each of the young men, thousands of warriors sat on their rearing and snorting steeds. Michael and the Defender faced each other across the sand.
The warriors behind each withdrew beaten iron swords from where they rested in the sheaths suspended from their steeds, and held the flame blackened weapons at the ready.
Michael looked across the vast ocean towards the figure who now stood in front of the golden throne. The eyes showed the sadness the figure felt, but no sound came from the figures mouth. The figure lifted its arms slowly into the sky, and apart, as though each hand was pointing towards the opposing armies. When the arms reached their highest arc, they began to drop back down to the figures side. Once the arms were once more at the figures side, it sat back down on the throne, staring across the ocean briefly, and then nodded its head decisively.
The battle began in earnest.
Michael's steed whirled and those behind him followed as he charged towards the Defender. At the same instant the opposing group charged. The golden sword gleamed in Michael's hand as he charged, and the Defender withdrew his own sword as he came. The battle began, and blood rained down upon the sands.
The figure on the golden throne sat and watched, as tears traced their way across its cheeks and spilled to the white robes. The sounds of the battle reached far across the ocean, screams from dead and dying horses seemingly almost human in their pain and panic; the ringing of metal against metal, so much like the sounds when the swords had been forged and then hammered into shape.
This was a battle that would last without time to mark it, on this strange and alien world. The fallen would be trampled as those that still lived rushed forward to engage whoever still stood or rode.
On a world far away, the figure knew, another battle was beginning. That battle could influence this battle, just as the battle here could alter the battle that had begun on Earth.
The concept of time was only an earthly thing. Here on this world there was no real time, there only was. Days, months, years, none were counted. Here the battle would simply continue until it was finished.
SIX
Joe and Becky
Becky awoke long before Joe, and now sat outside the small tent, watching the last rays of light fade from the sky. It seemed to seep slowly away, and darken the sky above the pines. The wind kicked up briefly, blowing the dead leaves across the ground. They scratched and rattled as they went, making her think of small skeletons rattling in the wind. She felt afraid, and had since she had awakened earlier. She couldn't explain it to herself, but she knew in some way that they were not going to make it to New York in time. She wasn't even sure why they needed to be there, or what sort of difference it would have made if they had arrived in time, she just knew that they wouldn't. She had been tempted to awaken Joe, but had decided after twice starting to do so, to wait until he awoke on his own.
She could tell now though, by the change in his breathing, that he would soon awaken, and she walked to the small fire she had built earlier to start some coffee brewing.
She was still not entirely used to Joe calling her Becky. The first couple of times she had almost not responded when he had, thinking that he must be speaking to someone else, although there was no one else. The name felt good to her now that she was becoming used to it, she thought, as she placed the small tin pot on the coals next to the fire.
She was sitting by the fire wondering how to approach the subject of New York, when Joe slipped his hands around her from behind. He turned her around to face him, and she saw the sadness etched into his face. He already knows, she thought, and before she could complete the thought he proved her right.
"It's too late, Beck," he said, "it's already started... Do you feel it?"
She nodded her head in reply, and then said, "What do we do now?"
He seemed to think for a minute, and then replied softly. "We go anyway, Honey, or at least as far as we can go, I guess," he seemed unsure as he spoke, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly when he finished.
Becky poured coffee in the small tin cups for both of them before she spoke. "I think you're right, Joe. I mean we should go, at least as far as we can. Do you think we can make it all the way?"
He shrugged his shoulders again as he responded. "I think we can make it at least to the water, and then we can decide from there whether to try to cross or not. What do you think?"
"I guess so, I... I don't know. It certainly can't hurt, and where else would we go?" she stared into the fire as she spoke. "I think we should be a lot more careful though. I get the feeling that those people we ran into aren't the only ones around who would just as soon kill us, and I'm not kidding myself about it, I think it was pretty clear. They didn't want to talk, or even to just take us prisoner or something, they wanted to outright kill us. No sense pretending about that like I was at first." She paused.
"I mean, I really thought there, for a second, that they were just scared or something, or maybe saw me and... Well, you know. But that wasn't it. I guess I knew then that it had started, and I think maybe you did too."
When she finished he nodded silently, and then sipped from the cup before he spoke. "You're right, and you're right that I knew, I just didn't want to think about it, Hell, I couldn't think about much of anything except getting as far away as possible, and, I kept thinking about the truck too. Did they do that before they tried to kill us, after, or was it someone else? There's no real way to tell I guess, but even if they were alone I'm not kidding myself that there won't be others just like them. We do have to be careful," he paused, thinking. "In fact I think we need to get off the main road. I don't think it's safe... You agree? I mean, there are lots of other roads that parallel the main highway. I guess it just seems like the smart thing to do, and it feels like the right thing to do. What do you think, Honey?" he asked.
"I think you're right. I've been sitting out here thinking about pretty much the same thing for quite a few hours, and you're right, we have to be careful, and you're also right about the main road... It just doesn't seem safe, or the safest way to get there anymore."
"Well," Joe said, "if we're going to take side roads, we're going to have to get another map, and that means we're going to have to go into the next city to get one. I'm not thrilled about that, but we're also going to need to pick up more ammunition too. Either way, we have to at least follow 90 into the next town down the line. No way around it," he almost seemed as though he were hoping that she would come up with some alternative as he spoke.
"No other way," she said, "so... I guess we better get moving?" She allowed what she had meant to be a statement to rise at the end a
nd turned it into more of a question.
"No," Joe said immediately, "no way. It'll be dark soon, and I really don't think that would be a smart move at all. No, I think we should wait it out here tonight, and get on the road early in the morning. We should be able to make the next town without a map. I don't even know what the next place is, but it can't be too far, can it?" he didn't wait for a response; he had asked more of himself than her. "No, I'm pretty sure it won't be far. We've been running into lots of small towns every twenty, thirty miles or so, and most of them at least have gas stations. We should be able to get a map fairly easily. After we do though, that's it. We get off the main road, and stay off it."
Rochester, New York
Frank and Jessie
Far to the east, in the city of Rochester, Frank Morgan sat on an overturned five gallon bucket talking to Gary Jones.
Frank had spent most of last night, and all of today at the makeshift barricade pulling his shift of guard duty, plus some. Something, no one knew quite what, had changed on the north side of the city yesterday morning. It seemed to Frank that almost nothing was easily explainable any longer. He had known somehow that something had changed, and it seemed that everyone else had known at the same time. Just known? Yes, just known, he assured himself now, as he listened to Gary. It made absolutely no sense at all to him, but he had accepted it as genuine.
That also was an oddity for him, he realized. Being a reporter had taught him to never just accept, or settle for any one explanation, but he had. He had not questioned it at all.
Earth's Survivors Box Set [Books 1-7] Page 188
