Pestilence Rising

by Lea Ryan

  Chapter 15

 

  Celeste returned from her flyover the same time our boat arrived. She reported that she hadn't seen Llewyn and her guardians. The canopy was too thick for her to search every inch of the river, but there were no forks. They could have only gone so far because fallen trees had created a dam a couple of miles down. Finding the spot they disembarked was just a matter of looking for their boat, assuming they hadn't elected to carry it with them.

  “What's wrong?” She asked as we watched them haul our boat down the part of a nearby ramp that wasn't submerged.

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you upset because of Bree?”

  “That and other aspects of our cooperation with the Center.”

  Owen and the others were too far away and too occupied with the boat to hear us. Like the Center fleet of trucks, the boat was a shiny, midnight black. No credentials or markings of any kind interrupted the paint job on what looked like a glorified fishing boat. It wasn't huge, but it looked big for the river.

  I changed the subject, “Love the wings. They look very handy.”

  She beamed, “I missed them. Not having them was devastating, not to mention painful.” She winced at the memory.

  “What's flying like?”

  Celeste took a deep breath, “Free. The earth feels like a shackle. Walking, even driving, are so slow, obstacles everywhere. Nothing slows me down in the sky. I can move as fast as I want, go as far as I want.”

  “Where did you go last night?”

  “Over fields and meadows, into the clouds. The world is much bigger than what you see on the ground.”

  “When will you go back? If the wings are in, that means your job is done, right?”

  “The remedy of my affliction wasn't my sole purpose in being here; I know that, now. I won't leave until you no longer need me.”

  “At this rate, I might need you for a good long while. I'm not sure how this issue with the Center management and me is going to play out. They aren't going to let me walk away.”

  She looked at the ground, “Very true.”

  Owen signaled for everyone to come over, “The boat seats eight. I'm going. Hunter, you're on. Celeste. I have five more spots. Gideon?”

  “No way am I letting that crazy chick get away. Nigel.”

  His partner was already behind him, waiting to board. Owen chose three of the stronger looking enforcers on the boat ramp.

  “The rest of you finish rounding up the anomalies. You know what to do if they resist.”

  I felt an ache in my gut as we pulled away from the shore. I was leaving my people to the dogs - my brother, Bree, the others.

  Owen glared at the GPS on the console, “I can't tell where the edge of the river is because of the damn flood. I'm going to have to rely on the system to keep us on course.

  Fantastic. What were the chances I'd end up having to swim? Wading through the field hadn't been a big deal because I was too out of my head to be as afraid as I should've been. I was perfectly conscious on the boat, on a river growing ever wider and angrier, and this setting was too similar to the day my brother almost drowned me.

  Owen piloted the boat expertly around trees that looked as though they'd grown out of their own reflections. A couple of meters too far to our left or our right, and we could run aground. He grumbled about that fact from time to time and cursed whenever the riverbed scraped the hull.

  Gideon was equally annoyed with his men. He was irritated to be on the boat, in nature, his target eluding him. He kept smacking his neck to crush mosquitoes, which made my skin crawl.

  “Aren't you supposed to fly away home now that your wings have grown back?” He asked Celeste out of nowhere, his voice dripping with venom.

  Everyone in the boat turned to look at her.

  “I mean you're supposedly an angel, right?” He added.

  “My condition upon arrival was the result of a punishment for not seeing the value in human life. I have since discovered that at least some of you are okay.” She smiled at me, then turned back to him, “Not all, unfortunately.”

  “Are you implying that I'm one of the bad guys? That's preposterous.”

  I butted into the conversation, “Aw, come on. Even Gids has his bright spots.”

  “Not many.” She said.

  Owen and some of the other guys laughed, which made Gideon's face darken to a vivid shade of red. Even Nigel chuckled.

  “What about you? I thought angels were supposed to be good. You killed several of my men back at that farmhouse.”

  We stopped laughing. Tension settled over the boat as we all remembered what we really were to each other. We had probably killed or injured their friends. I suddenly feared they might not let us live to return.

  “That was self-defense.” Celeste remained defiant. “You attacked us. Like you, I had a mission to carry out.”

  “And there's the common ground. You're just as 'bad' as I am.”

  She fiddled with the gun in her lap. I could tell the comparison bothered her, but she was a soldier, a very effective soldier.

  A crack from ahead broke the quiet. We dropped from our seats and took cover. The only sound was the lap of water against the boat. We saw no guardians lurking, no sign of Llewyn's boat. After a minute or so, Owen set the boat into motion once more.

  “Look.” Celeste pointed as the bow eased the corpse of a guardian from our path.

  A gunshot wound gaped in his stomach. His eyes were filmed over. A memory of the Maructe in the stars pushed into my conscious mind. He was with them now, the Sidera, if Llewyn's Divine Ones were still able to draw the souls of the deceased without their statues.

  I would never go, no matter how long I had left to live, I would fight assimilation with every last spark of coherence I possessed. If my soul was sentient, I would fly it as far from Maructe as I could.

  Near the fallen trees Celeste had seen during her flyover, we came to a tall chain-link fence. Plastic wreaths and flowers drifted amidst the debris where the river had overtaken the grass.

  Llewyn's boat floated there, abandoned by its occupants. They hadn't bothered to tie it down.

  Owen positioned our boat next to the fence. Without need for an order, an enforcer hopped out and secured the boat to a fence post.

  “You cannot be serious.” Gideon groaned.

  “What's the matter? Afraid to get that pretty suit of yours dirty?” I asked as I followed the others into waist-deep water.

  He snarled at me, “No, smartass. Nigel, stay here and guard the boat in case they try to come back this way. Don't let these two run off with it, either.” He motioned to Celeste and me.

  Nigel saluted, “Happy hunting.”

  Gideon winced as he eased himself into the water, “This is so disgusting. I'm shooting if I see any snakes. I would appreciate if the rest of you did the same.”

  Freakin' pansy.

  We passed through the broken gate, holding our weapons over our heads. The ground sloped upward the farther into the cemetery we went, up to a hill we couldn't see past. The air was eerily still.

  Rows of tombstones jutted up from the water into clouds of mosquitoes. Angels folded stone hands in prayer or they wept. Celeste eyed these solemn renderings of her kind with a passing curiosity. I wondered what it was like for her to see them like that, watching over the dead.

  She shook the water from her wings like a dog when we reached an elevation where the flood only reached to our knees. Gideon blocked the drops she sent flying his direction with his hand.

  “Watch it.”

  Owen leveled his gun at a tomb. We reacted accordingly, his men backing him up. Celeste and I covered the other direction.

  The crack of a gunshot echoed throughout the cemetery, flushing a flock of birds from the trees outside the fence. Everyone but Gideon ducked.

  “Damn!” He was looking down at the front of his jacket. Owen yanked him down with the rest of us. A spot of blood bloomed across the river water
soaked white. “Do you know how infected this is going to get?” The bullet had caught the left side of his rib cage.

  “Shut up.” Owen told him.

  A guy swung around the side of the tomb to squeeze off a couple more rounds at us. I recognized him as one of the guardians who had helped Vic drag me into the temple. He had kicked me in the back.

  Owen's skin paled to a sickly grayish color, and he fell into the water, into Gideon and the two enforcers exhibiting similar symptoms. It was the sickness, the ravager doing his thing. They wheezed and coughed. The blood on Gideon's jacket spread faster.

  “Keep their heads out of the water.” I said to Celeste, “I'll get this asshole.”

  The guardian poked his head around the side of the tomb long enough for me to see the smug look on his face. I fired the gun as I ran, which didn't do much for my aim. Bullets ricocheted off the stone wall and the tombstones between me and him. I rounded the side of the tomb, gun first.

  Ready for me, he fired from a couple of feet away, his bullet chipping stone inches from my face. I shot twice more and hit him. He stumbled backward into the floodwater, dead before splashdown. He wouldn't brutalize anyone else. Blood clouded the water around him.

  A hard blow to the back of my head sent flashes of light into my periphery. I whirled around as a second guardian swung the butt of a rifle at my face. I lunged beneath it to shove him away. He drew back for another swing. A bullet from the direction of my team clipped off a piece of his skull, and he joined his friend in the floodwater.

  I wiped his blood from my forehead with the back of my trembling arm and rested against the tomb for a moment to catch my balance. I shut my eyes to breathe, thankful that breathing was still an option to me. The submerged ground seemed to tilt. My gun felt like it had gained weight.

  I asked, “Everyone alright?”

  Owen responded, “Fine.”

  “Maggots are probably burrowing into my innards as we speak.” Gideon complained.

  “Make sure he gets back to the boat and wait there.” Owen ordered the man next to him. “You, too.” He pointed to the other enforcer, “I don't like the way that went. The three of us will take it from here.”

  They slogged back through the water toward the boat. Gideon slowed as he moved. Blood loss was finally getting to him. The wound didn't appear to be fatal, but he would feel the effects later.

  When he was out of earshot, Owen let out an exasperated sigh, “Thank God. I hate working with him. He's about as useful in a battle as marshmallow bullets.”

  Celeste and I exchanged a smile.

  “You won't get any argument from us.” I said.

  We continued our hike up the slope, among the dead and the buzz of mosquitoes. Vic was somewhere on the other side of that hill. I could feel his animosity hanging in the air like humidity. He couldn't wait to kill me.

  I heard singing, faintly at first, and I thought maybe it was my imagination or her voice in the back of my mind, the way it started. Llewyn's song reached us as we neared the crest of the hill. She sang in that other language only she seemed to know. Strange words mingled with humming in a disjointed melody that carried over the memorial garden in the valley below. Wide paths made a grid pattern between flowers and extravagant, black granite grave markers with gold lettering.

  “This must be the first class section.” I said.

  Across the valley of graves and flowers, a long staircase led up to an open tomb where a copper dome roof sheltered a sarcophagus. The threshold revealed daylight on the other side. A shadow clad in a dress twirled past the sarcophagus. Llewyn.

  “I see her.” A knot formed in my stomach.

  Owen stopped, “This looks like a trap. Two guardians are left, right? Where are they?”

  I told him, “You'd better stay up here.”

  “You must be joking.” I had offended his delicate sensibilities. “You two can't take them on by yourselves.”

  “Vic is a ravager. The other guy probably is, as well. I can't save myself and you. Stay up here and cover us.”

  He crossed his arms over that barrel of a chest, “Since when do I take orders from you?”

  “Since you want to live.” Celeste interjected.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, “Fair enough. You're probably right anyway. There comes a time when even greatest soldier must accept his limitations.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He situated himself next to a stone bench, lying on his stomach and aiming a rifle at the path we would take into the garden.

  “I'm ready to get this over with.” I held out my gun, watching for signs of movement as we descended the stairs on our side of the valley. Celeste remained close behind.

  Llewyn's singing sounded calm. The language came fluidly, her voice unbroken by the stress of the situation, the loss of her precious compound, the souls she'd gathered, and the statues of her Divine Ones. The song had an unhinged quality, like a disconnection between her and reality. I resisted an urge to try and make sense of it.

  The paths on the valley floor weren't flooded like the section from which we'd come, however, about an inch of water gave them the appearance of rivers reflecting the sky and monuments placed along their borders.

  A bullet chipped a granite sphere to our left, sending chunks into the air. Celeste and I ducked beneath two more shots to hide behind a nearby sarcophagus. She peered around the side.

  “Is it Vic?”

  She shook her head when she pulled back, “Not him. This man appears to be alone.”

  Another bullet grazed the corner of the tomb where her head had just been.

  “This would be a good time for Owen to use that vantage point.” I said.

  “He likely can't see the guardian where he's hiding. The shooter is among trees, and there's a shrub between them.”

  Llewyn's singing paused, then she laughed and began again, this time with a livelier melody. I wondered what the hell she was laughing about. She only had Vic with her, and he wasn't exactly a barrel of monkeys. Maybe trauma had pushed her over the edge after all.

  I suggested, “Maybe if I run by, he'll let his guard down. You or Owen can pick him off.”

  “I should do it. I'll heal fast. You won't.”

  She was right. I nodded. Up the hill, I saw Owen still poised with the rifle.

  Celeste took off down the walk, water splashing at her ankles. I saw what she was talking about, the trees and the shrub. I waited until she was almost there before going after her. She ran by the guardian. He stepped out and shot at her. I fired. There was a shot from Owen, and before the guy could take two steps, he was on the ground.

  I waved at Owen. He waved back.

  “I heard gunshots. Update.” Gideon squawked into my ear. I tossed the earpiece into the water and blood. Celeste followed suit. I didn't need any distractions.

  I scanned the graves and paths. No one else emerged.

  We approached the rich man's tomb. Above, Llewyn still sang her song. It was about triumph; I decided. I could tell by the tone.

  As we ascended the steps, Celeste kept watch over the garden behind us. Vic wouldn't be there, though. He wouldn't leave Llewyn's side. I reached the entrance to the tomb. Llewyn stood on the other side of the sarcophagus, her back to us while she looked out over whatever lay beyond. The dagger she used to murder her followers hung from her hand.

  Vic stepped out, trained a gun on my face at point-blank range, fury raging in his eyes like a fire. His forehead was battered and bleeding and every inch of his skin was crusted in grime from the river.

  Celeste grabbed the back of my shirt and flung me aside. She reached for him as he fired and spun him around to hurl him down the stairs. A bullet punched a hole in her newly restored wing, sending a clump of feathers into the air behind her.

  She went after him, into a hail of gunfire coming from Vic, coming from Owen on the ridge. They fought their way down the stairs, kicking, punching, shooting where they thought they had a chance. I h
ad to stop myself from going after her.

  By putting herself between Vic and Llewyn, she had given me an opportunity. Taking care of Llewyn had become my responsibility and mine alone.

  Llewyn stopped singing. I turned to find the mother just behind me.

  She smiled, “Hunter.”

  My vision blurred slightly. I put one hand on my head to quiet the beginning of a painful throb and leveled my gun at her with the other hand.

  “I have communed with the Divine Ones. We forgive your betrayal.” The tattoos covering her skin writhed and formed what, for a second, looked like the alien face of Maructe. Ink trailed down her arm like black blood.

  The physical proximity of her to me caused the mental wall I'd placed between us to crumble. I had a vision of her in a hazy forest with the lion statues walking on either side of her like living beasts. I resisted. She drove it farther into my mind.

  “They told me that you are to be forgiven, that you are such an important part of them. We're all integral, but your star shines brighter than most, my sweet boy.” She kissed me on the lips. “They will spend a decade gathering the Sidera we lost, but they told me you're worth it. You'll free us all.”

  We stood together in the trees with Ekash and Maructe circling us. Next would come the blade of her knife, sliding into my gut. I arrived at that certainty so easily. It caused me no panic. I didn't recoil from her as I should have.

  The sound of shooting reached me in the forest. I remembered, then, where we really were. The dream flickered and faded into tunnel vision centered on her face, and I felt the gun in my hand. She drew back the knife. I tilted the barrel up into her sternum and pulled the trigger once.

  Llewyn didn't move at first. She remained there leaning against me long enough for me to question whether I'd actually shot her. Maybe the gun didn't fire properly or I hadn't pointed it the way I thought I had - a result of emerging from the dream. The lock of her gaze on mine wavered, then she slumped over onto her side, the dagger clanging across the stone floor as she lost her grip.