by Chris Fox
Blair’s consciousness swelled to fill the beast, and suddenly he could see through its eyes. He flexed its fingers experimentally, tasting the air with enormous nostrils as he observed the world around. Only a few moments had passed, and the combat flowed around the gorilla’s feet. Trevor had returned to the fray, grappling with one of the larger deathless. Jordan battled two more, a pair of women that were comically short, but devilishly fast. These two knew how to blur, even if some of the others didn’t.
Three of the remaining deathless were bounding up over the hill. At first Blair feared they were fleeing, but then he realized they were heading for the militia. The crack of gunfire sounded around them, and the deathless saw a threat they could deal with. Blair forced the gorilla to lumber after them, crushing the spine of a deathless as the beast split the gathering evening with a thunderous roar.
The remaining deathless spun to face the gorilla, clearly confused. They scattered as it charged them, nimbly dodging as the beast launched a few clumsy swipes. The creature was large and powerful, but ungainly. He couldn’t catch the deathless, but it might be able to keep them occupied.
Ka-Dun, be wary. Something stirs within the Ark.
That was all the warning Blair had. He was dimly aware of something stirring within the Ark’s deepest systems, and then enormous power flowed through the entire structure. The bay was lit like noon, as a trio of clear white pulses blasted into the sky. The energy draw made him dizzy, and Blair lost hold over the gorilla’s mind as he caught himself against a stunted tree. He felt weaker than he had in months, and a dozen alarms competed for his attention as systems failed all over the Ark. What the hell had just happened?
He tried to focus, tried to make sense of the conflicting demands the structure placed on his consciousness. Blair was barely aware of the approaching roar. He could feel the ground shaking as heavy footfalls sent up puffs of dust. His vision focused in time to see the gorilla, its putrid gaze focused hatefully on him as it approached.
“Oh, crap,” Blair said, staggering behind a larger tree. He wanted to blur, to leap away with the agility his form normally granted. But he couldn’t. His body was sluggish, his mind thick as molasses. It pissed him off. Why the hell couldn’t he ever get a straightforward fight? He was supposed to have the Ark on his side, not have it hamstring him at a critical moment. It wasn’t fucking fair.
He cringed as a giant, hairy fist snapped the tree into splinters and continued into his gut. Ribs shattered as he was launched skyward, tumbling end over end into the dirt a good fifty feet away.
“Oww,” Blair said, struggling to regain his footing. The gorilla was already charging again.
3
Hesitation
Liz stumbled forward, staggered by the blow from behind. Claws ruptured her kidney, hot pokers jabbing into her again and again. She gritted her teeth, rolling onto her back to see her attacker.
The man standing above her had been an athlete in life, maybe a boxer or football player, judging by the broad shoulders. He had long, stringy, black hair, with a thick beard to match.
“Not so tough, are you, little puppy?” he growled, eyes flaring toxic green as his grin widened.
Liz considered a witty response, but settled on kicking a spray of gravel into his face. He winced, knocking the stones away. That bought her a moment, which she used to swing her sword in a low, tight arc. It hummed through the air, meeting brief resistance as it sliced through both his legs just below the knees.
She rolled to her feet, planting the blade in his chest, and willed the weapon to drink his essence, bracing herself for the cold shock as the pulses of light flowed up the weapon and into her. Each one was like a shot of espresso, bringing strength and clarity, along with a small portion of the host’s memories.
The latter were troubling, but she shrugged them off. She needed to focus on the combat. Being a female werewolf meant she was the only combatant on the field without the ability to blur. She was strong and she was stealthy, but she was also the slowest one here.
“Liz!” Jordan roared from somewhere off to her right. “The militia’s in trouble. They need immediate support.”
She glanced in the direction he was pointing, up the hill to a cluster of rocks just off the path. About a dozen men and women had taken shelter there, and were firing their weapons into a trio of deathless.
Those deathless appeared unfazed by the assault, and all the militia had accomplished was drawing attention to themselves. She watched in horror as a deathless bounded into their ranks, disemboweling a woman with a wicked slash. It snatched up her rifle, and brought the stock down on the man next to her. His skull cracked in a spray of blood, and he collapsed onto the ground next to his companion.
Liz was about to charge, but the ground began to shake. She darted a glance to her right, noting the massive undead gorilla charging at Blair. She’d expected him to have already dealt with it, but he wasn’t even looking in the creature’s direction.
He was focused on the Ark, and a moment later she understood why. The entire surface glowed white hot, then a burst of light shot from the tip into the sky. Another followed, then a third. Liz had no idea what they were, but she was more concerned about their effect on Blair.
He collapsed into the dirt, trying to pull himself to his feet as the gorilla approached. The creature shattered the tree he was sheltering behind, sending him flying through the air. Blair’s silver fur was matted with dust and blood, and he didn’t rise. She knew the blow hadn’t been enough to kill him, but he was clearly in serious trouble.
“Liz,” Jordan roared again. She darted another glance his way. He was squaring off against two more deathless, who were driving him steadily backwards toward the water. “The militia. Now! People are dying.”
She looked their way again. The trio of deathless assaulting them had done hideous damage. Over half the militia was down, and the rest were fleeing. Liz steeled herself, committing to the decision. She slipped into the shadows, charging the closest deathless.
It was completely unprepared as she launched a two-handed swipe at its neck. Her blade sheared through bone and flesh, severing its head in a spray of gore. The creature’s headless body tumbled to the ground, but Liz was already cloaked in shadow once more.
The second deathless had noticed the fate of its companion, and was spinning slowly in an attempt to find her. It apparently hadn’t learned to command the shadows, or it would already be hiding. That was good, because as long as it was looking for her it wasn’t killing militia.
Liz bounded after the third deathless, who was chasing down a teen with an old carbine. The deathless blurred, darting forward and ramming a fist through the girl’s back. The carbine tumbled to the ground in a clatter, and the deathless gave a cackle any Disney villain would have envied.
Liz saw red, baring her fangs as she leapt into the air. She came down on the deathless’s back, crushing its spine and grinding it into the concrete. She drove her sword through its throat, pinning it to the ground as she leaned in close.
“I hope the last thing you feel is the same terror you inflicted on that poor kid,” she growled. Then she twisted the blade, and drank the deathless’s essence.
She rose to look for her final opponent, but it had fled back into the water. It disappeared from sight, wisely fleeing from her wrath. Liz turned to face Jordan, but either he’d dispatched his foes, or they too had fled. He’d already moved to assist Blair, who’d regained his footing and was dodging clumsy strikes from the gorilla.
Liz cloaked herself in shadow, sprinting up the hill in Blair’s direction. By the time she arrived, Jordan had already entered the fight. He darted in close, disemboweling the gorilla with wickedly sharp claws, then dancing backwards when it tried to retaliate. The blow didn’t faze the creature, but it did keep its attention.
She used the moment to launch herself into the air, timing her strike with all the precision she’d earned through dozens of hours of practice in the
ring. Her blade came down on the gorilla’s skull, splitting it cleanly in half and continuing down the spine. The blow continued all the way through the beast’s body, which collapsed into two separate piles. The right half twitched once, then lay still.
“Blair, are you all right?” she asked, moving to his side. He looked dazed, his gaze glassy and unfocused even in wolf form.
“I think so,” he said, cradling his head with one furry hand. “Something’s happening with the Ark. Systems are failing all over. We need to get inside and find out what the hell is happening.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Jordan snapped, grabbing her shoulder. He spun her to face him, and she let him. She was far stronger in wolf form, but she didn’t resist. “You’re a battlefield commander. You can’t afford to hesitate, Liz. Out here you aren’t Blair’s girlfriend. You aren’t a woman, or a friend. You’re a leader. People died back there, people you could have saved. You came up with the plan. Next time you need to goddamn follow it.”
“I know,” she said, gritting her teeth. She wanted to yell at him, to say that Blair had needed her. But Jordan was right. Blair had been fine, and her hesitation had cost lives.
4
Escape
Steve sat up abruptly, cocking his head. Something thrummed through the Ark, deep and powerful. None of the driblets of information he’d pilfered from the Mother’s sleeping mind suggested a cause, but he sensed it was unusual. What was Blair up to?
He rose from the bronzed bench, peering through the crackling blue energy net between him and freedom. Nothing stirred, not even the air. His companion hadn’t moved; the white-garbed deathless sat motionless on the bench on the far side of the cell.
His dark skin suggested Nubian ancestry, something that tugged at the anthropologist in Steve. Perhaps his kind had been the ancestors of the Africans who had given rise to ancient Egypt, and its rival, the mighty Nubia. Of course those descendants lacked the putrid green eyes and razored fangs that revealed just what kind of predator Irakesh was.
“If we go,” Steve said, breaking the silence for the first time in nearly two days, “we go now.”
“Now?” Irakesh answered, uncoiling languidly. He rose from the bench, folding his arms as he peered at Steve. His expression was unreadable, probably a survival trait in the world he’d grown up in. “For thirteen days I have railed at you to keep your promise. We could light walk from this cell at any time, yet you’ve whined about caution and the right time. What has finally caused your cowardice to ebb?”
Steve took a long, slow breath, schooling his features to conceal the surge of rage. Those had come often since his change, a legacy of the beast within him. “I can see why you lost, Irakesh. Why a half trained Ka-Dun that I manipulated easily was able to best you.”
Irakesh staggered backwards as if struck. He caught himself on the wall, mouth working as if seeking the right insult to hurl. Then he straightened, jaw clicking shut. “I will not allow you to bait me again. They caught you just as easily, if you remember.”
“Yes.” Steve smiled, knowing he was about to win another verbal sparring match. “But I came away from the encounter with an access key. I achieved my goal of becoming an Ark Lord. Did you?”
Irakesh blurred, crossing the cell in the space between heartbeats. Steve could have matched his blur, but chose to conserve his energy. Let the deathless grandstand. A fist connected with his jaw, sending a jolt of pain through his face as he was hurled back into the wall.
Kill him, Ka-Dun. Why suffer such an affront from this wretch? You could tear him apart. He has nowhere to flee, his beast roared, its outrage clear.
Steve didn’t answer directly. He didn’t need to. The beast could hear his thoughts, and it knew why he didn’t fight back, why he affected the posture of a beaten dog as he rose to his feet. It knew why he hadn’t killed Irakesh, though he could have taken the deathless unaware days ago.
“Do not push me, Ka-Dun,” Irakesh growled, chest heaving as if from exertion. Odd, that. Deathless no longer breathed, so the gesture was nothing more than a vestigial response from Irakesh’s days among the living. “You have dangled the carrot of freedom for too long. I’ll have it now, or this mockery of a partnership is at an end.”
“Very well,” Steve allowed, wiping blood from his lip. “I’ve waited until now, because we need Blair to be distracted. I can light walk to the central chamber, but from there we have to reach a light bridge in order to travel to the Ark of the Cradle. If we are not careful, he will intercept us before we can escape. If I reveal that I can light walk, Blair will close that route and we’ll be truly trapped.”
“So what is it that makes you think he is now distracted?” Irakesh asked. His expression was dubious, but curiosity lurked there.
“A few moments ago a tremendous surge of power rushed through the Ark,” Steve explained, turning to face the lattice of energy bordering the cell. He took a step back from it, just in case. If he was too close, it might interfere with light walking. “I don’t know the source of that energy, but either it’s something Blair doesn’t expect, or he’s busy with something massive and delicate. That kind of shaping will take focus.”
“Ahhh,” Irakesh allowed, giving a shark-toothed smile. “Either way, he will be distracted. Clever, Ka-Dun Steve. Perhaps I have underestimated you.”
“Perhaps,” Steve said, extending a hand and grasping Irakesh tightly on the shoulder. “Come. Let us be away from this prison.”
5
Imprisoned
Mark came to by degrees, gradually returning to consciousness. The room was bright, but he couldn’t close his eyes for some reason. Couldn’t blink. In fact, he had no motor control at all. His body lay limply on something cold and metallic, and he was staring upwards at a chrome ceiling. It was cold, but whatever muscle relaxant he’d been dosed with prevented him from shivering.
A door to his right hissed open and a figure entered. He saw the movement, but couldn’t make out anything specific. It was frustrating, but he willed himself to stillness. If they wanted him dead, he already would be. If they wanted to interrogate him, they wouldn’t have used a muscle relaxer, because that would dull any pain they’d inflict. So they must be here to talk.
“Good morning, Mark,” came a familiar voice, pleasant and cultured. Leif Mohn, the Old Man himself. The victor of the brief civil war Mark had instigated at the Syracuse facility. He had no idea where he was, but he knew it wasn’t Syracuse. He knew that installation, and this room wasn’t a part of it. “I trust you’re feeling more like yourself. It will probably take some time for the grogginess to fade. You’ve been in a medically induced coma for three and a half weeks.”
“Why?” Mark tried to ask, but it came out as little more than a croak. He swallowed. Damn, but his throat was raw.
“Here. Drink some of this,” Mohn insisted, moving into Mark’s field of view. He pressed a straw gently into Mark’s mouth. Mark sucked greedily, not caring about the water’s metallic taste. “Not too much now. Just a little at first.”
Mark cleared his throat, then tried speaking again. “Why am I alive?”
“Because you are Mohn Corp.’s most senior surviving director. The rank and file all but worship you, and in this new world that makes you a very, very valuable commodity,” Mohn explained. He dragged a plastic chair close to Mark’s bed, sitting with exaggerated care. He folded his trench coat over his knees, the grey fabric beaded with drops of rain. So a wet climate, wherever they were. “We’re facing threats most men can’t bring themselves to accept as real. Without strong leadership, the men will break, and mankind’s last shield will shatter. I cannot allow that to happen.”
“You can’t possibly believe I’ll help you and whatever monster you work for,” Mark replied, trying to turn his head to face the old man. A strap held his forehead in place, but at least he could move his eyes now. “I rebelled for a reason. I’ve seen what these things can do. We need to fight them, not give them the fuc
king keys to the kingdom.”
“I can understand why you’d believe that,” Mohn said, leaning back in his chair. He removed an ornately carved wooden pipe from the pocket of his trench coat, and a leather pouch from another. “When he first took me as a servant I believed much the same. I rebelled repeatedly. In my limited understanding, I thought he was some sort of demon, that he was trying to bring about an apocalypse.”
“But at some point you sold your soul instead?” Mark replied. A thousand tiny pinpricks were making their way up his limbs as feeling began to return.
“In a manner of speaking,” Mohn admitted. That surprised Mark. “It took three decades. During that time, I had the briefest taste of immortality, saw the world in a way few men do. I came to realize my master was guiding the fate of our species. Doing so requires many short-term sacrifices; it means individuals matter not at all. It has to be that way, if we expect to survive in this new age.”
“Can you even hear yourself?” Mark snapped. “You sound like a Bond villain, justifying his poorly conceived plot.” He immediately regretted the loss of control, not because Mohn didn’t deserve it, but because right now his wits were his only tool. “What is it your ‘master’ wants?”
“One of the many titles he wears is the Guardian of the West, the protector of mankind,” Mohn explained, adding a pinch of tobacco to his pipe. “It’s a responsibility he takes seriously, one he’s borne for a very long time. When the first pyramids were built in Egypt, he was there guiding them. Imhotep, they called him. When the Mayans built their civilization three millennia later he was there, guiding them. Cambodia. Stonehenge—my master was there shaping humanity, preparing us for this day.