“Perfect,” he pronounced. “A clear shot, a good target.”
“Yeah,” said the driver, fidgeting at being once again shrouded in his own flesh-suit. “But once we do it, we’ve got to get out quick. They catch us, and the whole plan blows up. I don’t get why we have to trigger this thing manually. Why not a remote?”
Lee gave the driver an annoyed look, as one might give an ignorant child. “That would leave the device vulnerable to jamming. The orbiting generators will all be triggered manually when the time comes. Foolproof.” He turned his attention back to the village below. “Peaceful, quiet . . . we’ll fix that,” he said.
“Yeah, the street lights will be an indicator,” said the driver. “They’ll go out. And it’s quiet, so we’ll probably hear something, like maybe car crashes.”
“Not good enough. I’m going down there for some ground-truth data.”
“A stranger in town? When the place goes blooey? You are insane.”
“I’ll just say I’m passing through, doing some hunting. I’m a senator, a celebrity. They won’t connect the effects with me. Besides, it’s a full moon. I deserve some field time. I’ve got some nice chunks of bloody meat in the truck. After the test, I’ll come back up here, take off this suit, and do some prowling, enjoy some meat.”
“You’re still crazy. But when we finish this, I can go home. That’s all I care about.”
“Okay, give me an hour to get down there.”
“Fine, but I’m taking some of that meat.”
Lee had no problem finding a path down the mountain, given his werewolf’s keen night vision. He emerged on the two-lane road leading into the village and passed a gas station, an auto repair shop, and a general store. He reached the town square, seeing that the local bar was open. A perfect vantage point for his observation. He checked his watch. He had twenty minutes. Time enough to get in, order a drink, and settle himself.
The comfortably battered barroom, smelling of alcohol and fried foods, held a dozen customers, some sitting around tables drinking and picking at baskets of snacks. Amid the cheerful, boozy camaraderie, he took a seat at the bar, taking note of what the other denizens were ordering, before picking a drink.
“How’s the huntin’?” he asked the bartender amiably.
“Pretty fair,” the bartender replied. “Guy killed a big one last week. Up on the ridge.”
Lee took note of that fact. He hadn’t made a kill in a while. With all the commotion to distract the locals, he might be able to take a run in the forest and take down prey this night. He subtly checked his watch. Five minutes. He made sure to order another drink. Soon, there would be no drinks forthcoming.
“Well, I’m up here to do a little hunting, so I—”
Abruptly, the incandescent lights in the bar went out, wisps of smoke curled from the outlets, and the room was filled with the stench of ozone and smoldering plastic. Screams and shouts filled the bar, as the fluorescent lights and TV set over the bar took on a malevolent glow before plunging into darkness.
“OW! SHIT!” bellowed a young man at the end of the bar, who had been making a cell phone call. He pitched the phone away, staring uncomprehending at his burned hand. A woman at one of the tables pitched her smoking purse away. The electronic cash register popped and sizzled.
“What the hell is going on?” exclaimed the bartender, amid the cacophony of frightened babble.
Smoke began to fill the bar, and the patrons rushed the door, shoving aside a small woman. Lee finished his drink, suppressing a satisfied smile, and followed them into a darkened street. A grizzled man in a floppy hat jumped into his truck, turning the key. Nothing. Others tried their cars, but all were dead.
The bartender rushed from the bar, a fire extinguisher in his hand. “Get back!” he yelled. “Fire’s all over in there! Too much to put out!” Behind him, the orange flicker of flames lit the doorway.
Lee decided he’d seen enough. He edged away from the panicked creatures, starting his hike out of town and up the mountain. There, he’d strip off his flesh-suit and have a fine night running down some animal, any animal, to tear open its throat and gnaw at its warm flesh. He smirked in satisfaction at his new sense of freedom. He could go anywhere he wanted now. The test had gone well on two counts. It had proved the electromagnetic pulse generator as a weapon.
And as a bonus, it had almost certainly fried his coma chip, and even more fortunately, his termination chip.
• • •
In the darkness before sunrise, the main corridor of the convention center was deserted, dead-quiet. Jack managed to get in by discovering an unlocked service entrance at the back. He ducked into an alcove to avoid a janitor driving by in a sweeper, then sprinted to the North Hall. The blue archway was still there, evidence that the breakdown of the room hadn’t yet begun. And he knew that the Mythicals’ Convocation had run very late. He’d lurked outside the convention center until he saw what he thought were the last Mythicals leave.
The door to the hall was open, and he ducked through the empty, curtained antechamber that had held the nutrient vats and into the vast darkened hall.
He stood still, holding his breath, listening hard for any telltale noise that a Mythical had stayed behind, or that a cleanup crew had begun work. He heard only the gentle hiss of the ventilation system in the cavernous space. He peered upward. There might be some stray winged creature perched there. But the rafters appeared empty.
He pushed the button on his tiny key-chain flashlight and moved cautiously forward, feeling his way past tables, trying to remember exactly which one he’d been at. He guessed wrong twice, feeling under the table to find nothing. He stood up and reoriented himself. He had sat more to the right. Finally, he reached under a table to feel the fabric of his suit jacket.
He pulled out the coat, reached into the pocket and withdrew the digital recorder. He flicked it off and sat in a chair, deciding what to do next. He should really get out of there as soon as possible, but he had to know what had been so secret that the Allies had to be hustled out of the room.
He switched on the recorder, to hear the order to evacuate, the noise of the room being emptied of Allies. The sound was poor, muffled by the tablecloth and the coat. He recognized the deep, guttural voice of a werewolf. Must have been the werewolf Warden. He heard only snatches of what was said.
“We have . . . testing on a prototype . . . advocate . . . .” Now a cacophony of voices rose in the hall. Given that they were aliens speaking their own languages, he couldn’t know who was talking, or certainly what they were saying. But he had a sense that the deep snarls were the cheers of werewolves, and the higher, lilting sounds were fairies and pixies objecting.
He heard more fragments of his own language from various Mythicals Wardens. They seemed to emphasize one particular word. Was it “palpitation?” That didn’t make sense. No, it was “palliation.” He knew that “palliative care” was care that alleviated pain. But “palliation?” An abrupt buzzing in his head made it hard to hear the sound from the recorder.
Oh, no, no, no! He thought, realizing what it meant.
The hall was abruptly flooded with light, and he squinted and jerked his head around to see a line of Mythicals, all glaring at him. They all wore the large medallions that distinguished them as Wardens.
The werewolf’s medallion glowed red!
The vampire’s glowed red!
The ogre’s glowed red!
The angel stood with a downcast expression, slowly bringing his hand to his medallion. He touched three of the glowing spots on it. It glowed red!
Of all the Wardens, only the medallions of the fairy and pixie Wardens remained dark!
He was only two votes away from death!
“Fool, don’t you know that your chip enables us to track your movement!” growled the werewolf, stepping threateningly toward him. “You have violated our rules.”
“My coat,” said Jack weakly, holding up his jacket. “I just came back—”
>
The werewolf grabbed him by the neck with one claw, the talons digging into his flesh, and lifted him off the floor, snatching the recorder from his hand with the other. “This is what you came back for. Don’t lie!” He crushed the recorder into pieces and flung them away.
Jack struggled for breath, flailing and clutching the werewolf’s arm to try to support himself.
The buzzing stopped, replaced by the familiar hum of fairy wings. “Please, Wardens, he made a mistake!” It was A’eiio’s voice.
“Yes, a mistake!” It was Sam’s voice. “Please let him live! We will vouch for him!”
Still holding Jack aloft, the werewolf turned to the other Wardens, scowling. “He knows. We cannot allow him to live.”
Jack gasped for breath, his conscious waning, his legs flailing for some support. He saw the lights on the Wardens’ medallions begin to blink out.
The werewolf flung him across the table like a rag doll, and he tumbled off it, slamming to the floor, gagging.
“Very well,” the werewolf snarled and stalked away.
“You are very fortunate,” said the fairy Warden, as Jack managed to fill his lungs and drag himself onto a chair. “You have been the responsibility of this fairy and this pixie. Should you violate rules again, they will be punished, as well.”
The Wardens moved away, leaving Sam and A’eiio to tend to him.
“I am sorry,” Jack managed to gasp. “I just wanted to know . . .” but his voice failed him, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.
• • •
Senator Warren F. Lee sat in his office, watching the news coverage of the mysterious calamity that had befallen the small town of Bellamini. He smiled at the video of the burning buildings, the smoking power transformers, the horrified residents holding up ruined cell phones, the immobile cars and trucks with their hoods open.
He continued smiling, as his thoughts turned to the pleasant memory of a night spent running free in the cold darkness of the thick woods. Of the headlong flight of his panicked quarry, crashing away through the brush. Of the feel of its muscled body collapsing under his attack. Of his jaws tearing away its throat. Of the delicious taste of its warm flesh torn from its body.
“Senator?” asked his aide, interrupting his reverie.
He almost growled. He had to catch himself; senators didn’t growl. “Yes?” he answered. “I told you not to disturb me.”
“You have a call. He didn’t give a name, but he said you were expecting it. Will you take it?”
That would be his Warden. He would take that call.
“Lee,” he answered curtly. He knew to speak this planet’s language, even to a member of his own species. The telltale guttural language of werewolves would alert anybody who overheard.
“I am watching the news,” said the Warden. “What is your assessment of the test?”
“I was in the target region. Optimal radiation intensity. Full coverage. Complete destruction of the electrical and electronic infrastructure.”
“I don’t have a location on you. I don’t see any signal from your chip.”
“So, it was, indeed, destroyed?” Lee’s smile became a satisfied smirk.
“It appears so.”
“Am I safe from the other Wardens?”
“Yes. Since I am your Warden, I am solely responsible for monitoring you. They are unaware of your chip’s malfunction.”
“I need you to explicitly state what you are giving me permission to do . . . for the record.”
The Warden paused, likely working out the exact phrasing of the statement. “I formally give you permission as your Warden to take whatever steps you need to, in order to ensure the success of the Palliation.”
“It was no accident. It was an attack!” Senator Deborah Bright exclaimed to herself, vaulting from her desk chair, approaching the television screen showing the devastation in Bellamini. She paced back and forth, shaking her head, trying to figure out what to do next. Lee must know about this, or be behind it! She thought.
Within ten minutes, she had burst into Lee’s Senate office, swept past his receptionist and into his inner chamber. Lee was just hanging up the phone.
“Your Warden told us at the Convocation that a test was being conducted. This was it?”
“Yes,” said Lee, lounging back in his chair. “And a successful one.”
“And the device I saw your partner loading onto a truck at the last rendezvous. That was the device you tested?”
“Yes.”
“What are your plans?”
“Talk to your Warden. I’m not comfortable—”
“What are your plans?”
“I can only say that we are only preparing for the eventuality of the Palliation. Calibrating the equipment. We are at the service of the Wardens.”
“Who’s we?”
“Werewolves . . . and other species.”
“And this test? This disaster you caused?”
“As you heard at the Convocation, the Wardens authorized it.”
“This planet’s inhabitants need to know about the Palliation.”
“Why? There’s nothing they can do about it. Even if there was, they wouldn’t do what was necessary. You know that.”
“I don’t know that!” Deborah leaned forward over his desk, glaring at him. “It’s time. You know it’s time.”
“To reveal ourselves? To tell these primitive creatures everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
Lee chuckled with the deep guttural resonance of a werewolf’s voice. “That will cause quite a stir.”
• • •
Senator Deborah Bright had just walked to the lectern, as Jack sat down in the Senate gallery, overlooking the semicircle of desks beneath the high, arched ceiling.
All was routine—or so the gathering of senators thought, as they chatted among themselves or gave instructions to their assistants. Today, the Senate business consisted only of routine speeches on behalf of the nominee for some minor government posts.
After four solid days and nights of writing, Jack slumped tiredly in his seat. The senator, or rather A’eiio, had instructed him to produce the most comprehensive article possible on the Mythicals. So, he’d pounded out a thirty-thousand-word opus, which he knew would never see the light of day. After all, who would believe the lunatic writings of an out-of-work, semi-alcoholic writer who had claimed to see a flying creature flit away from a dinner party?
In any case, as A’eiio had directed, he had brought his computer to the session and switched it on. With a tap of his finger, he could send the article to his former editor at the Capital Herald. But that tap would bring death.
But then, his reporter’s instinct abruptly triggered him to alertness. Something indefinably odd was happening. Down on the floor, Senator Warren F. Lee appeared with two other senators, taking their seats. To his right up in the gallery, a distinctly motley mix of men and women entered and took seats.
They included a skinny guy in mechanics coveralls, a massive cop, a statuesque woman in clinical scrubs, a man in an expensive tailored suit, and an attractive young woman in a white silk dress.
Something about them, something in the way each of them moved, seemed familiar.
“Are you ready?” asked a feminine voice to his left, interrupting his puzzlement, and he turned to see Sam take the seat next to him.
She immediately riveted his attention. “Uh . . . for what?”
But Sam only smiled and laid her small hand on his.
Amid the murmur of routine business on the Senate floor, Bright went to the lectern and began to speak. “First of all, I assure you that you are all perfectly safe.”
Here and there in the chamber, Senators turned from their chatting to look at her, puzzled expressions on their faces.
“At no time during my remarks, or the extraordinary events that will accompany them, will any of you be in any danger.”
The presiding officer, William DeLucato, a slim, middle-aged sen
ator with a head of wispy white hair, leaned forward and asked, “Senator, what are you saying?”
“If my esteemed colleagues will bear with me, I will today reveal a momentous truth about life on your planet.”
Now murmurs arose across the Senate floor, as the senators whispered to one another about what their colleague might possibly be doing.
Bright took off her jacket, and began to unbutton her blouse, slipping it off. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, quickly shedding her bra, slip, and underwear.
A shocked clamor arose from the floor, and DeLucato exclaimed a shocked “Senator Bright! What are you doing?”
Bright stood only a brief moment as a naked, pale, plump, middle-aged woman. She reached up, pressed a spot between her breasts, and her skin sagged loosely from her body. She reached beneath her chin and pulled off her mask, revealing a smooth, young face framed by silken silver hair.
Screams and shouts arose from the floor, as Senators bolted from their seats, unsure whether to run or stay and watch the unbelievable sight.
Shrugging her way out of the fleshy shroud, she stepped out of it and extended her transparent wings, fluttering them.
“What—!” began DeLucato, before his voice failed him.
“RUN! RUN!” bellowed the nearest senator, falling back over his chair and landing with a thud on the floor. Similar exclamations erupted throughout the chamber.
A’eiio lowered her head for a moment, popping out her contacts and carefully setting them on the lectern. She looked up to reveal glistening sapphire eyes. She smiled benignly, but that did not quiet the clamor.
Nor did a sudden, bone-chilling howl echoing from the other side of the chamber. All eyes had been riveted on the alien creature that Senator Bright had transformed into. Now, heads whipped around to see a naked Senator Warren F. Lee, standing on his desk howling. He punched his chest and shed his skin to reveal a fanged, hairy beast out of their nightmares.
Now the screams became terror-stricken. The former Senator Lee, now a werewolf, bared his fangs and howled again, gloriously enjoying the moment.
Mythicals Page 10