“Saul mentioned another idea, a place an hour north of Savannah,” Evan said. “Big estate. Off the water. Says it was on the books for the Believers, but he’d never seen it.”
“They’re sure that Black was here? In Georgia?” I asked.
“Yep. They passed the motorcade a few days ago. One of the sentries logged it. Had to be him.”
I stared up. The redness was thicker. “Saul’s right. The Believers are on the coast.”
Veronica turned and watched me. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“What other option do we have?” I tapped Tripp on the shoulder. “Go to our ship. If we drive, we’ll be too late.”
“Dammit, Rex, that’s at least an hour from here.” Tripp started the engine.
“You guys can’t leave. If you drop down in a spaceship, we’ll…” Evan stopped as Roger casually approached. His slow gait spoke volumes. Maybe he was relieved there wasn’t going to be a real fight today.
“We’re in a bit of a jam,” Roger said.
“Did Saul give you the address of our new target?” I inquired.
Roger scrawled it down on a notepad and handed the yellow sticky to me. “It’s a good four hours. Three if we haul ass.”
“We’ll meet you there. Stick to the plan. We’re going to be late, and I don’t like the looks of that.” I pointed to the horizon.
“If today’s my day to cross into the afterlife, so be it. But I’ll be damned if I don’t bring the devil there with me.” Roger spun on a heel and spoke into his radio. “Everyone. Change of plans. Get on the 75, and take it to 16. If anyone tries to stop you...” He frowned at me. “Kill them.”
5
The air was denser as they descended the valley. The ground was damp; small shrubbery brushed against his leg, leaving wet streaks.
“It should be here,” Opor told him.
They’d been circling the region for hours, and Dirk sat on a felled tree, his legs unable to go on. “We need a break.”
She looked at him with panic in her eyes. “Dirk, this was our chance to make a difference.”
“And your opportunity to see your beloved Mezpa again,” Dirk reminded her.
“Yes. That too.” Opor dropped to the log beside him and hung her head. Sweat dripped from the back of her neck. “I was so positive there was an access point.”
“Things change. I presume there wasn’t supposed to be life here either.” Dirk indicated the greenery around them.
“We drained this entire area. The Zalt know that once consumed, life will never return.”
“But it has,” Dirk said.
Opor stared at the ground, plucking a weed to its roots. She ran a finger over the leaves. “We were lied to.”
“Did you expect your leadership to be honest?” Dirk found the energy to chuckle. “That’s your first mistake.”
“We are not humans. The Zalt do not deceive—”
“Didn’t you trick them when you left for Earth early? And by trying to find the Bridge, and refusing to return to your true form to trek to Earth on your Exodus?” Dirk could have kept the questions coming, but it felt like he was berating her.
“You’re right. Dirk Walker, you offer a generous viewpoint.” Opor grinned, but it was half-hearted.
“Do we give up?” Dirk asked. “Will you leave Opor so we can live out our lives together on Rimia?” This wasn’t his first choice, but if he couldn’t get to Earth, head to Kabos, or make the trip to the Objects, what was left?
He watched Opor and thought it wouldn’t be so bad. With Rewa vacated from her body, she would be his old love. She might be upset with him to start, but she’d come around. He knew this without a shadow of a doubt.
“No.” Opor opened her pack and began to build a fire. “Gather some firewood. We will perform an ancient ceremony.”
Dirk’s legs protested, and his back ached as he rose, dusting his hands off. “What kind of ceremony?”
Opor removed a bottle and shook it.
“You brought that?” Dirk didn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved.
“I did. I’m going to attempt connection with Mezpa,” Opor said.
“There’s enough for both of us.” Dirk saw at least two fingers’ worth in the bottom of the bottle. It was dirty brown and didn’t look very appetizing. From memory, it didn’t taste great either.
“I should take it all.” Opor seemed desperate.
“No. I have to use it. I want to link with Rexford.” Dirk wasn’t positive this was possible, but he needed to try. Their plan had failed.
Opor stared at the bottle’s contents and swirled them around. “Fine. But only after I’ve consumed enough.” She unscrewed the cap, and before he could comment, Opor drank from the opening. Her lips pursed as she swallowed, and she hesitantly passed him the remaining liquid.
Opor’s pupils dilated, and she spoke in the Zalt language. She lowered to the ground and slumped into a heap.
Dirk eyed the drink and drank the rest. He pictured Rex, his son: the strong man he’d become, despite not having a father figure to emulate. Rebecca had done such a wonderful…
He drifted… Rex.
Dirk sensed his son. The stress of a tense situation. He was flying. Dirk spotted the ocean in the distance, and a terrible crimson horizon. Then it was gone, his vision spinning, like he was circling a drain.
He took a step, and it was solid. Dirk glanced down, seeing blood-stained brown shoes. The room he was in had twenty-foot-tall red ornate drapery, with gilded curtain rods.
Dirk tested his voice. “Je m’appelle Dirk,” he said, trying to convince himself he was Dirk. But he wasn’t.
The voice that returned was in French. “Claude, are you okay?”
Dirk struggled to remain calm. This was the first time he’d been in full control of the Believer from Paris. “What news?”
The woman sauntered over to him, her hips swaying like a palm tree in the breeze. She had jet-black hair and striking blue eyes. He doubted they were naturally that color. She was possessed by one of the Zalt. “News? The world is nearly ours.” She tugged at the drapes, pulling them to the side.
Dirk walked to the window and let out a baffled sound when he saw the skies. It was raining into the Versailles courtyard, but hundreds, maybe thousands of people were outside regardless. They had their arms raised into the air, chanting the familiar phrase.
“It’s happening,” Dirk whispered.
“Yes. Soon.”
Dirk had spent enough time in this man’s head to understand he had big aspirations. There was a Zalt leader, a being named Yeral. Dirk recalled what Rewa had told him about finding Hunter. That Hunter Madison was the strongest mind to link to forty years ago or so, when he’d first visited Earth in search of a vessel.
Claude Giroux had attempted to be that lightning rod, only he’d attracted Dirk instead. Now it all made sense. Why he’d been drawn to Claude in his dreams. He was like a beacon on Earth, bringing attention to himself. All those strategic moves behind closed doors. The slow progression up the ranks. Then the recent killings. He was powerful.
But Dirk was stronger.
If it was possible to take over Yeral, Dirk would find a way. Let the Zalt leader come to him. He’d be prepared for his arrival. The irony of the thought made Dirk smile, and the woman beside him wrapped her arm under his.
“This is going to be special.”
Dirk glanced at the clock. It was eleven PM. If that was the Atlantic off the US coast he’d seen, Rex was five hours behind him.
“What are we waiting for?” Dirk asked, feeling electricity in the air. “Let’s go to the people.” He left the room, heading down a wide set of stairs. The woman followed, jogging to catch him. Despite his tired legs in Rimia, Claude’s were well-rested. He was strong. Dirk would use that.
The foyer was filled with armed guards, and Dirk strolled up to the largest. “I need a gun.”
The man assessed him from behind his tinted sunglasses. “Of
course, sir.” He unstrapped his piece, and Dirk took it, quickly concealing the weapon inside his waistband.
“What’s that for?” the woman asked, but he ignored her. He was in charge.
Two guards opened the exits for him, and he didn’t pause, just walked into the rain. For a moment, he thought it might be drizzling blood, but it was regular water. The people cleared a path for him. Dirk remembered the tale of Moses and the Red Sea.
He stopped in the center of the courtyard and raised his face toward the angry sky.
The entire area had gone silent, and he spoke loudly and crisply. “Dreen allono reespenlen.”
____________
We came in low, wishing there was more cloud cover from the north. We’d made good time, and I suspected the rest of our army was a solid hour behind us, taking the interstate. I was grateful for the few hours of sleep the night before, but I was running on fumes. We all were.
Veronica had promised me she was good to go, but her actions proved otherwise. As I watched her shoulders slump in the pilot’s seat, I felt the craving for a strong cup of coffee. I supposed we’d be fueled by our bodies’ adrenaline the moment we faced the Believers.
She landed the Rodax vessel in a field, as far from the nearest town as she could. We stepped into the late afternoon heat. It was too warm for this time of year. Insects fluttered to my face, and I swatted them away.
“I always loved this part of the country,” Tripp said.
“I’ll be happy when we leave,” Veronica told him.
“Are we ready for this?” I looked to the east. The mansion owned by one of the cult’s corporations was two miles or so from here. The terrain would be easy to cross. I reached for my satellite phone and dialed Saul’s number. No answer.
Lewen held a snub-nosed gun, and Tripp had a duffel bag. Veronica and I were clutching our 9MMs in holsters across our chests, and Evan Young still had his under his suit jacket. The rest of us wore borrowed clothing from the Freedom Earthers, and Lewen had donned a black hat. She looked human: a tall woman, but one of us nonetheless.
“How’s Gren holding up?” I asked her.
“They’ll be in position soon,” Lewen assured me.
“Good.” The property was lined with giant oak trees, their trunks sheathed in a vibrant green moss. I inhaled, appreciating the humidity. Veronica’s hair frizzed with our proximity to the ocean. I looked to Tripp to lead.
“We’ll keep along the trees the entire route. This side. I guarantee they’ll have scouts. We’ll have to kill them.” Tripp met my gaze.
“No problem.” So much death, but it would be far worse if the Believers managed to bring the Zalt.
We began our hike, sweat already forming on my forehead. Evan and I hung at the back of the group, keeping our eyes peeled.
“What happened with you?” I asked him. Evan had heard our story, but hadn’t shared all his details yet.
“I went on their trail as soon as I could, but it was dry.” He puffed out a breath of air. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
I had to believe Bev and her kids were alive. “It’s not your fault.”
“I tried to contact Marcus initially. When I checked on the house, it was clear they’d been taken. I reached out to the Freedom Earthers for help.”
“What about the Bureau?” I asked.
“It seems they were infiltrated from the top. No wonder my investigation attempts into the Believers went ignored. I’m surprised they didn’t kill me.”
I brushed my fingers on drooping leaves and hurried after Tripp. He was pushing a fast pace. “Do you trust Roger?”
“Yes. At least, to help with this threat. I don’t know if he’ll stop when it’s dealt with, though,” Evan told me.
“He wants to take over? Is that even possible?” I asked.
“Depends on what kind of support he can rally. The militia leader that saved the world? Might be enticing.” Evan coughed and patted his jacket.
“No smoking. Dead giveaway,” Tripp said from ahead.
Evan lowered his voice. “How does he do that?”
“Tripp? He never stops listening and watching.” I grinned. This was a good team. Great people. I chuckled, thinking about the first time Hunter had introduced me and Tripp in the Hamptons. Now we were like brothers. Crazy how things could change in such a short span.
Tripp raised a fist, and we all stopped, crouching behind thick tree trunks. A bird fluttered from a branch above me while Tripp unzipped his duffel bag. He quickly put together a sniper rifle. He wasn’t even looking at it while he assembled it. He stared ahead, his hands recalling years of practice.
A minute later, the weapon was loaded, and he lay in the dirt, aiming the gun at a twenty-five-degree angle toward the end of the property. Evan and I watched, and I finally saw the man. There were two, walking toward one another, holding automatic weapons.
The bullet rang almost at the same moment the first target dropped. The second man aimed his weapon in the wrong direction and went down easily.
“Two for two,” Tripp mumbled, and hefted the gun onto his shoulder. “Keep going.”
Five minutes later, we could see the beginning of the mansion’s border. A huge cast-iron fence ran along the road, leading to the tallest brick gates I’d ever seen. This wasn’t going to be straightforward. Even from this far, I could hear the noises from inside. People talking. It sounded like a party.
We continued on and found another pair of sentries. Tripp wasn’t willing to shoot them out in the open this close to the house. A black SUV was parked near the gates, facing out. The Vice President was inside that fence, as were a lot of Believers, likely the highest-ranking from this hemisphere.
Tripp waved me over. “We have to head to the side.”
“This fence goes on forever,” Evan said, pointing to the left.
“They won’t be guarding every section,” Tripp assured me. He sniffed the air. “Smell that?”
“The ocean,” Veronica said.
“Exactly. That’s our way in,” Tripp told us.
“Okay.” I took his word as testament, and we began our hike around the property. Before we lost sight of the gates, I saw the truck arrive. “Saul’s here.”
“That man must’ve driven like he stole it,” Evan said.
Tripp used his rifle’s scope, aiming at the truck. “It’s Saul, all right. The guards are talking to him. Using the radio.”
The gates started to open, and I smirked. “He did it.”
“Let’s hope he’s not spoiling our plan,” Tripp whispered.
“You think he’d lead us to the wrong place in Atlanta, then tell us about it? Not a chance. Saul’s here for the Book.” I watched him drive onto the property, and the gates closed behind him. We set off.
____________
Swarms of people arrived outside the hub’s shield. Marcus was nervous.
“Don’t mind them, Marcus.” Jessica’s hair was wild, her makeup smudged. It had been five hours since the barrier had shot out from the hub, and she was growing tired of his delays.
Glen neared, bringing a bottle of water. Jessica took it and drank deeply. Marcus licked his dry lips. “Nothing for him until this is completed,” Jessica said.
Glen gave him an apologetic look.
It was hot with the sun scorching down on them. He’d figured out the link issue hours ago, but he’d been pretending to work on it ever since. In the last half-hour, Jessica had hovered by his shoulder, goading him on.
“I never should have brought you.” She shoved him aside, and he fell off his makeshift seat. Jessica aimed her gun at him, motioning for the tablet. “Give it to me.”
Marcus climbed to his feet and almost lunged for her. His jacket contained the gun but wasn’t within reach. If he did shoot her, he was a dead man. Why had Glen even given it to him? The soldiers loitered around the area, some of them playing cards on the house’s front porch. He peered past the barrier, which was nearly invisible now. It shimmered sli
ghtly, reminding Marcus of the separation between him and the thousand or so bystanders that had gathered around this spectacle.
“All we need is to connect this damned hunk of metal to the other Umir. Why is this so difficult?” she asked. Her fingers moved over the screen, and Marcus prayed she wouldn’t find the window in which he’d hidden the programming.
Her eyes widened, and she smiled, baring her teeth. Her hand shook while she pressed a button. The Umir hub vibrated and lifted higher, spreading at the waist.
The weapons rose, only they were different. They weren’t guns at all. Marcus saw them for what they were: antennae.
The twenty localized Umir unrolled simultaneously, springing to life. They beeped in a coordinated effort, in time with the lights flashing on the hub. Marcus lunged for his jacket. His hand went into it, grabbing the gun’s handle. This was it.
A blast shot from the hub, propelling Marcus into the air. One second his feet were planted; the very next he was twenty feet high, the breath rushing from his lungs. He landed outside the barrier. The Umir were back in sphere formation, and Jessica was sprinting for the helicopter. The soldiers picked themselves off the ground, shaking their heads.
Marcus found the deputy and fire marshal beside him, staring at the event with fascination. “We have to do something about this,” Marcus told them.
“Ueer ereepol quinali venda,” the officer said.
Marcus looked around and caught glimpses of their new world. Everyone here had been inhabited by the Unknowns. They all spoke the language, cheering and celebrating their arrival. He rubbed his head, unsure of why he’d been spared. Maybe because he’d been so close to the mechanisms.
The Umir hub had been activated.
Jessica was at the helicopter, waving the soldiers in. She met his stare and smiled. “Are you coming?” she shouted.
Marcus assumed she must have been talking to someone else. He pointed to his chest.
She nodded.
Marcus crossed the area past the hub, which had planted into the ground with long spikes protruding from its legs. The Umir were disbanding, each heading in a different direction. One of the robots went into the helicopter, climbing up before spinning into a ball.
Lost Hope (The Bridge Sequence Book Three) Page 17
