Salvation

by Caryn Lix

  Hallam, Matt, and Priya instinctively took the lead, and no one argued with them this time. They were the trained soldiers, and it made sense for them to take us into a military facility. Jasper, Cage, and I brought up the rear, keeping a careful watch over our shoulders in case an alien suddenly dropped from the ceiling. I shuddered, remembering how they’d done exactly that on Sanctuary, and Jasper and Cage moved a bit closer to me.

  Alexei used to do the same thing. Whenever anyone seemed nervous or frightened, he’d instinctively shift a little closer, sheltering them with his bulk. The memory made my eyes swim and, to my horror, this time I couldn’t blink back all the tears. A few spilled over my cheeks. The boys must have noticed, but they didn’t say anything, and I quickly wiped the tears away, furious with myself. I had to focus on the here and now. This was our last chance to get away from this dead world and maybe save our own.

  Speaking of … I closed my own eyes, seeking out my alien connection. That part of my mind seemed strangely empty, though. It was still there, just … dark. Misty. Frowning, I opened my eyes.

  Cage caught my gaze. “Anything?”

  “I think they’re hiding,” I replied, my heart sinking.

  Jasper shook his head. “Who the hell knows what sort of powers they’ve absorbed? If they’ve taken Mia’s invisibility, they could surround us and we’d never even know.”

  I shuddered. “They could have taken abilities from anywhere, anytime. This isn’t the first dimension they’ve demolished. Karoch is their center, their core, but the creatures are its limbs. It sends them to a dimension, lets them expand, grow, and then they destroy. And once they have, Karoch follows, and the creatures occupy that dimension while a few move to the next. That way Karoch is always safe, always one step behind them.” I looked between them. “You get what I’m saying? We’ll never see Karoch on our Earth, not until it’s too late. If we’re going to destroy it, we have to do it here and now.”

  Cage nodded grimly. “Then we’d better not fail.”

  Right. No problem. I swallowed.

  Ahead of us, the others stopped at a circle lift. “It’s working,” Rune assured them as they regarded it dubiously.

  “And if it stops halfway down?” Hallam demanded.

  “It won’t.”

  “You can guarantee that?”

  Rune sighed. “Not guarantee, no, but the other choice is fifteen flights of stairs.”

  “I thought we were in a hurry,” said Mia, pushing past the others to get onto the lift. Legion exchanged glances, then shrugged and followed her. Rune packed in beside them, rendering the lift about as full as it could get.

  “We’ll meet you downstairs,” Reed promised as they disappeared. Almost instantly, another lift formed. Jasper, Reed, Imani, Cage, and I squished into it, and it dropped. As usual, the claustrophobia got to me, but this time it was tempered by a sense of wonder that our technology matched this dimension’s so completely.

  Reed’s thoughts must have mirrored mine. “Everything here is so familiar,” he said as we dropped into darkness. “And yet …”

  “And yet,” Imani agreed.

  “Do you think we exist here somewhere?” asked Jasper softly, and I knew he was thinking about his family as much as us. “Other versions of us?”

  I shook my head helplessly. I hadn’t even considered that. Was it possible? Was there an Alexei somewhere running around, alive and well? Another version of me, maybe with parents to care for her?

  But … “If we ever did,” said Cage, in a gentle tone, “we probably don’t anymore. Most of the population here didn’t survive the alien attack.” He reached past me to squeeze Jasper’s shoulder. “All the more reason for us to get home and take care of our Earth, our people.”

  Jasper nodded, his face grim in the dim illumination lining the circle lift. Our descent slowed, and a brief moment of panic assailed me as I recalled Hallam’s fears. What if something happened and Rune couldn’t maintain the power? After all, the building had been dark for ten whole years. If we were trapped here, wedged against one another in this tunnel in the black … I’d rather face the aliens. At least it would be quick.

  But we were slowing because we’d reached our destination. If the lift ever had a vocal function, it wasn’t working anymore: we simply stopped without fanfare or announcement.

  The others had gathered right outside the lift, blocking my view. I stumbled after them and stopped short. “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  Rune met my eyes, her jaw working but no sound emerging. The others didn’t move, only stood there, and eventually I let out a huff of annoyance and shouldered past them. Whatever it was—a sea of aliens, a gaping pit, who the hell knew anymore—I needed to see.

  Then I stopped too.

  Rows and rows of what could only be missiles. Probably hundreds of them. They were lined up in orderly, stacked columns. More firepower than anyone ever possibly needed, enough to destroy a country a dozen times over. “My God,” I said, my voice thick.

  “This isn’t going to work,” said Jasper flatly. “We activate one of those, and it’ll cause a chain reaction. It’ll destroy everything for miles.”

  Eden and her people intruded on my mind, the children in their little tent city. Wendell with his broad smile at the promise of chocolate. “Nowhere will be safe,” I agreed quietly. “We have to find another way.”

  But Priya shook her head. “There isn’t another way,” she said. For once her voice wasn’t ringing with authority and self-righteousness. Instead, there was a thread of sadness.

  Matt nodded. “She’s right,” he said, appealing mainly to me and Cage. I must have looked dubious, because he took a step closer. “I’m not saying I like it. It’s horrible. But think about the alternative, Kenzie. We have the chance to destroy those aliens completely. We might take Eden’s city with us, but how many lives will we save? Everyone’s back on Earth, for sure. Anyone else still alive on this planet. And how many other Earths will never have to deal with the creatures because we stopped them here?”

  “It’s the aliens on the ship all over again,” said Imani, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “We killed them, and the creatures descended on us in search of revenge. Actions have consequences.”

  Rune rubbed her hand over her face. “I know. I fought harder than anyone against killing the aliens. But Imani … not acting is an action too. If we do nothing, then we aren’t personally responsible for anyone’s deaths. Eden and her people, whoever’s left on this planet, they might live a little longer. Until the aliens kill them. Until they run out of supplies again. We’ll die, though, all of us, and probably our entire planet. Our families. Our friends. And any other dimensions the aliens head to next.”

  “You don’t know that!” Imani snapped.

  “I do.” I swallowed, the edge of the alien consciousness brushing against mine—only a memory, at least for now. But I was close enough to know this much for certain. “They’ll keep spreading like a virus until they’ve destroyed everything in their wake, until they’re all that remains. It’s what they do.” I took Imani by the shoulders. “I was never sure about what we did on the ship, about killing the aliens then. But as much as I hate it, I’m sure now. I have to be. If we don’t stop those things here, we’re going to be responsible for a lot more death. Maybe not directly. Maybe we won’t have pulled the trigger. But it’s going to be our fault just the same.”

  Silence met my words as everyone studied their feet. The explosives sat around us, seeming to taunt us, and my knees went weak. Was I actually willing to go through with this? The faces of those kids kept swimming in front of me. Eden and all her people. Dead. Dead in an instant if they were lucky.

  Or left to suffer until the aliens came calling.

  I raised my head and looked from one of my friends to another. Legion and Cage and Mia were easy. They’d clearly already decided, their faces locked in determination. Jasper was still staring at his feet, but the set of his shoulders said he�
��d also thrown his lot in with us. If it meant preserving his own world, his own family, he was willing to make the sacrifice. And Rune … Rune was a healer at heart, and it was clear how much this decision pained her. But her arms were folded and she was resolute in what had to be done.

  Imani and Reed, though … I read the indecision written across their features. And me? Once upon a time, I’d have been on their side. Wendell wouldn’t leave me alone, no matter how hard I tried to blot him out. That should have been enough to dissuade me. Would have been, once. But I’d come too far and seen too much, and touching the alien hive mind gave me a core of utter certainty.

  I couldn’t save everyone. Given a few weeks, maybe I could come up with a better plan, a way to eliminate the aliens without sacrificing this whole planet. But I didn’t have weeks. I didn’t even have minutes. It was save some or save none, and that was the cold hard truth staring me in the face.

  But I didn’t say anything. There was nothing more to say. This entire awful plan hinged on Rune. We couldn’t do it without her, and it was a hell of a burden to ask her to bear. If she refused, the plan halted and everyone died. We’d have to take as many of them out with us as possible and pray we somehow disabled Karoch, prevented it from continuing its interdimensional rampage. And right now, Rune seemed content to wait for Reed and Imani to speak. She wore an expression of serene resignation, as if she’d come to peace with something truly terrible. I would have taken the burden from her if I could. She wasn’t the innocent she’d been on Sanctuary, but she was still herself: strong and courageous and obviously willing to do what it took to save us all. She caught me watching and gave me a soft smile, as if to reassure me that everything would be okay, and I forced myself to smile back. If Rune could face this decision with such composure, I could too.

  We all stood in silence, until finally Reed raised his head, his face wet with tears. “I don’t want to carry this,” he said helplessly. “I don’t want this responsibility.”

  Instinctively, Imani wrapped her arms around him, leaning into him. “No one does,” she said softly. “But Reed … we both have family at home. My parents. Your moms. We can’t abandon our entire planet because we don’t want to take on the burden.”

  “Victory comes with a cost,” Priya told them, not unkindly. “You’re young. You haven’t been in enough battles to realize that. I wish I could say the same. But I carry a thousand burdens like this one … well, maybe not quite like this one.” She made a face. “It’s never an easy choice. But it’s always a choice. Doing nothing is a choice too. You get that, right?”

  “We get it.” Imani wiped at her own tears. “All right. I’m in. Let’s murder a bunch of people. Why not?”

  I sighed, wishing I had something, anything to make her feel better.

  And then something inside me gave a sickening, horrible lurch. I dropped to my knees, the world spinning around me, my head rushing. Images assailed me, the alien world rushing over me like a waterfall, surrounding me and swallowing me and threatening to wash me away with it. The power swelled inside me, assaulted me, battering my defenses.

  “Kenzie!” Cage had me, turning me in his arms, shaking me. “Kenzie!”

  My vision refocused slowly, Cage swimming into view, and I caught at his shoulders, gasping for air. “We’re out of time,” I whispered. “Karoch is here.”

  FORTY-THREE

  “WHERE?” PRIYA SNAPPED TO ATTENTION, leveling some sort of rifle against her shoulder.

  I shook my head, grabbing Cage’s arms and half climbing him to drag myself to my feet. “I don’t know. Close.”

  “Can you access its powers?” Mia growled.

  My head swam. “I can’t even think right now,” I whispered, struggling to keep the room in focus. Karoch’s power was so strong, so compelling, it was all I could do to keep from falling into it and vanishing.

  “Kenzie!” Matt’s voice had taken an aggressive tone, sharp enough to jolt me at least partially back to myself. “If you can’t use Karoch’s power, we’re all going to die here.” A startled silence met his words, and he glared from one of us to another. “Well? I assume we’re still going through with this whether we can escape or not. Or was all that talk of sacrifice and cost contingent on us getting away with our own lives?”

  Rune drew herself taller, eyes flashing, as if the very notion of self-sacrifice solidified her resolve. “No,” she said. “We’re going through with it either way.”

  “Yeah, great,” said Hallam. “But Kenzie, it’d be really nice if we didn’t have to die here, you know?”

  I laughed in spite of myself, my teeth chattering, my limbs shaking. Cage still had a grip on me, as if he could physically keep me centered, and actually it was helping, the physicality of the connection locking me in place. I closed my eyes, tightening my hands on Cage’s arms and focusing all of my attention on that point of contact, my anchor to the real world. With the rest of my mind, I reached out, searching for the aliens.

  Searching for Karoch.

  I didn’t have to look hard. It hit me with the force of a meteor, its sheer presence a massive overwhelming collection of rage and aggression and sheer, malevolent hunger. “Oh, God,” I whispered, my shoulders hunching as I slumped against Cage’s arms.

  “Kenzie.” Imani crouched beside me and laid her hand on my back. Healing energy flowed from her and, even though there was nothing physically wrong with me, it seemed to help, stabilizing me, connecting me. “You’re not with them. You’re here with us. Everything’s okay.”

  “We’ve got you,” Reed added as he joined his energy to Imani’s.

  Kneeling there in the triangle of Reed, Cage, and Imani, I found myself strengthening. Something in my core pulled tight and I managed to straighten. The massive weight of Karoch’s presence settled physically against my shoulders. It was on the edge of my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. Wanting to overwhelm me, I realized with a sudden burst of determination. These creatures had taken my family. They’d devoured my friends. They’d killed and sliced their way through everything I held dear. They were not going to get my mind—not without a fight.

  I drew myself to my feet, filling my lungs with a painful, shaky breath. Having done so once, I found it easier to do it again. “I’m okay,” I said.

  Cage tilted his head, examining me. “Are you sure? Your eyes don’t seem right.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. What was wrong with my eyes? “I’m sure,” I said, putting aside the latent fear Cage’s words had awakened inside me. Thanks, Cage. “I’m going to see if I can forge a connection to Karoch and draw on its power.”

  I didn’t wait for a response. Instead I closed my eyes and turned inward.

  Karoch swirled around me, the alien mind enveloping my consciousness like a cloud. I kept my breathing steady. The image of my mother was foremost in my mind, for whatever reason. I fixed my attention on her and all of the bewildering, infuriating, contradictory emotions she awoke. I made myself imagine, in vivid detail, the body of my friend Rita Hernandez, coated in alien goo, her eyes blank and white and empty. Imani, clutching her sister’s limp body. Tyler, hoisted in the air above a screaming alien. My father, if anything shocked to have his life cut off so quickly. And Alexei.

  Those were my people. Karoch had no hold over me.

  I latched on to Karoch, feeling its shock as I surged into it with my own consciousness, leaving the hive mind far behind. Any allure it had once offered became repulsion. I wanted nothing to do with these creatures.

  I wanted them dead. I’d have ejected every last one of them into space myself.

  And I wanted Karoch’s power.

  I visualized my friends’ abilities in colors. Karoch’s powers were colored too, but they were a swirling, muddy mess, like staring into a swamp. Brief glimmers of reflected color surged to the surface, instantly swallowed by eddies of darkness and sludge. Somewhere in this mess was the power to shift between dimensions, and the only way to find it was to plun
ge inside.

  I didn’t hesitate. Not anymore. I dove in, letting the repulsive sludge wash over me. It hit me as if I’d leaped into a swamp. There was no physical Kenzie left, not anymore. There was just me, one central being immersed in a cold, slimy clutter of foul-smelling mush.

  I opened my eyes. The sludge burned, but I let it flood over me. Somewhere, Karoch roared in fury, but I tuned it out. I opened my mouth and swallowed the rank mess. I let it course through me, filling me.

  Power exploded beneath my skin. It slithered through my stomach, pierced my lungs. It was agony and terror and something else, something much more frightening because it was so compelling: the ultimate edge of strength. If I opened myself a tiny bit more, let the hive mind weave its way through me, I could be part of this. I wouldn’t merely have the power to move between dimensions. I would have all the powers, all of Karoch’s abilities. I would be fast and strong and smart, and no one—nothing—would touch me or the people I loved again.

  Except I wouldn’t have the people I loved, would I? Because I wouldn’t be me.

  I would be Karoch.

  I threw my head back against the rush of power and forced it into a steady stream, raising my hands to the slime. I pressed my arm to the right, carving a path for myself. As the sludge cleared, I felt power sliding away from me, leaving an almost physical ache in my chest. But there was a clearing, too, a return of my earlier strength and resolve.

  I pressed with my left hand, clearing more of the gunk. What remained separated into more distinct colors, less repulsive, more seductive.