by Platt, Sean
Cameron pushed at the cover. Dug his fingernails into the groove between key and plinth. But he couldn’t get the thing out until whatever needed to be done was finished.
Heather’s head perked up at a sound. Cameron followed it with his eyes. It was coming from the other passage: approaching voices now hitting them from two directions at once.
“Feet,” he said.
“Lots of feet. That guy Nathan Andreus. He’s outside with a bunch of soldiers. Maybe they’ve come to—”
Cameron shook his head, holding up a finger for quiet. The stone machinery whirred behind him, grit grinding like heavy sandpaper. He wanted silence, but his action betrayed the chamber’s quiet.
“It’s not Andreus,” he whispered.
“How do you know?”
“Clara said it would call them. Listen. Too steady. No rush.” He swallowed. “It’s Astrals. Titans.”
“So what?” Her face changed. Cameron didn’t think anyone had told Heather about the Titans’ shape-shifting trick, but she knew. He could see it in her sudden pallor, sharply visible in the flashlight’s glow.
“The light. Turn out the light.”
Heather had been holding the thing. She didn’t hesitate. She clicked it off, and it was if the black cloud had returned. Scant light bled from both passageways: the one where the Astrals were making their casual, no hurry way down, and the one from which Cameron could still hear Raj talking to … to someone who wasn’t replying.
The stone continued to grind.
“We have to get the key and go. We need it.”
“For what?”
“It’s a long story.”
Cameron couldn’t see Heather in the darkness but could sense her stare.
“Cameron,” she whispered.
“Shh.”
“You and Piper came back. Nathan told me about his daughter and someone named Charlie Cook. He talked a lot about your father’s research, in a way that makes me think he might have died. In the rebel raid we heard about from a few days ago.”
“Shh. They’ll hear us.”
Even more quietly, seeming to move closer, Heather said, “Where is Trevor? Where is my son?”
Cameron felt his skin crawl. Something had led her to this place, just as something had led him. He hadn’t spent much time with Heather before he’d taken Piper from the Axis Mundi, but he knew she was vastly different. Life had changed her. And there was more to it; he’d heard Heather updates from Piper, too. This was a changed woman. Just as Cameron’s guides had told him things he wouldn’t have known otherwise, maybe Heather’s had indicated certain unpleasant truths to her as well.
“He’s fine.”
“Then where is he?”
Cameron could sense a serious, strangely mature gaze that the darkness forbade him to see. Heather was inches away, her voice barely audible. If he’d seen her, Cameron supposed he would have seen the mask that crumbles when a person stops lying — to themselves, most of all.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?”
“Shh. He’s … okay. I’ll explain later.” The lies were awful, but she’d chosen the worst possible time to ask. The indigo light was still intermittently flashing, filling the room, leaving only Heather and Cameron, behind the stone plinth, in unbroken shadow. Something was on a countdown, and the slowly revolving disk above was hailing enemies like a clarion call. They couldn’t get out with the key unless they could remain undetected. And she’d cry if Cameron told her the truth. She’d yell. She’d throw one of her famous tantrums. Then they’d be dead.
“Meyer isn’t Meyer. There’s something wrong with him. Do you understand me?”
“What?” Had she bought it? It seemed impossible to believe.
“But whoever he is, he’ll turn. He turned last time, and he’ll turn again. I’d bet on it.”
“What are you—”
Hands grasped both of Cameron’s cheeks, palm to skin. He felt himself pulled forward, smelling the fresh scent of rich woman’s soap. Heather pressed her lips into his, far more insistent than sensual.
“What was that for?”
“If you ever find him, give him that for me.”
Cameron was about to ask more, but Heather stood and ran up the first corridor, toward Raj Gupta’s echoing voice.
Chapter Eighty
Raj blinked. Meyer was gone.
In his place was someone with long black hair. Someone he definitely didn’t want to talk to. Now or ever. But his head felt foggy, and as he blinked around Raj saw the strange dark pall had cleared. He was at the end of a downward-sloping stone passageway. Somewhere underground? It was so hard to remember how he’d got here, let alone how he’d found himself face to face with Heather Hawthorne.
She grabbed the front of his shirt. Dragged him farther down, toward where Meyer had been leading him. Although Raj was no longer sure about any of that. Had the viceroy really been here? It all seemed like a dream. There was something he was supposed to do. Something that would let him prove himself to Meyer.
They spilled into a dark chamber. In the intermittent blue light leaking down from above, Raj could see that there was some sort of a stone cradle in one corner. There was an altar or something similar in the middle, emitting a slow racket. The grinding stopped. Raj could see a circular depression in its top, with a round thing sitting inside it. Something seemed to move behind the altar, but he’d been jumping at shadows enough. It was a trick of the light, just like Meyer had been.
“You’re looking for me,” Heather said.
But Raj didn’t think so. Now that his head was clearing, he didn’t think he was after Heather Hawthorne at all anymore. He’d tried to arrest her once, and no one had cared. Nobody ever cared. Meyer certainly hadn’t because the viceroy had been in on it with her. Meyer had turned on them all and recently beaten the shit out of Raj.
He didn’t owe Meyer a thing.
The Astrals. That’s whom he’d come here to talk to. And he could hear them coming, down the opposite corridor.
Raj moved toward the disk set atop the altar. Heather pushed him back. In the azure flashes, he watched her smile.
“Get out of my way.”
“No way. We’re finally alone. I’ve been looking forward to this for two years.”
Again, something seemed to move behind the stone altar in the room’s center. Raj tried to steal another look, but Heather spun him again. This time, she was against the wall.
“I surrender,” she said.
He tried to shake her away. She held fast. The feet were coming closer, their echo through the stone corridors making them sound closer than they were, coming nearer still.
“Come on, Raj. You knocked up my daughter. Don’t you want to find out where Lila learned all she knows? Hit me with your licorice stick.”
Raj pushed Heather away. She held him tight, holding his hands. The blue flash came. Vanished. Came again. They were wrapped in black between flashes. During the blue interludes, he could see her face, as obnoxiously hectoring as always.
Raj pushed. This time, Heather gripped much, much harder. She’d been playing, but she had more in her than he’d have suspected now that she was trying. The light went out, and Heather dragged him back. It came on, and he found her staring hard into his eyes, almost through his head. He became aware of the chamber’s silence. Other than the slow trod of approaching Astral feet, there was nothing at all.
The lights went out. The lights came on.
“Fuck me, Raj. Come on. Prove that you’re a man.”
“Get away from me, Heather.”
She gripped Raj’s crotch. Too hard. He cringed.
“Sorry. I like it rough. I figured you liked it rough, too. Like linear algebra.”
He pushed again. This time, Heather pushed back so hard that his skull struck stone, bringing a dull throb of pain. Something skittered past in the shadows, like a rat.
“I’m not leaving until you teach me the secrets of your spicy recipe.”
&
nbsp; “What the hell are you—”
“Come on, Raj.” Her eyes flicked away from him, toward the room’s center, and a small smile touched the corners of her lips. She stepped back. “Fuck me like you fucked humanity.”
He stared hard. Heather didn’t flinch. Her sarcastic smile widened.
“Fuck me like you fucked Meyer. Like you tried to fuck Piper, before she and Cameron fucked you right back.” Heather moved back to the stone altar, leaned against it like a diva. She made her voice throaty, like gravel. “Oh, Raj. Fuck me like Terrence and Christopher and Lila have been fucking you for years.”
Raj’s eyebrows drew together. He was getting déjà vu. How many times had Heather messed with him over the years? He knew a distraction when he saw it. The last time, she’d been trying to let Terrence into the network center to plant the virus. But he’d seen through her then and could see through her now. He’d been led here under decidedly strange circumstances, but maybe this was why: to catch Heather trying to pull more of her usual bullshit.
He yanked her hard, and she staggered away from the altar.
The thing had stopped moving. Stopped grinding. Stopped turning.
And the stone disk, whatever it had been, was gone.
Raj heard sound from the far corridor: footsteps, running. Decidedly human, in a rush, getting away.
He scampered to follow whoever was escaping, but Heather was holding him back. With much, much more force than he would ever have thought possible.
Raj jerked his shoulder to free himself, but after one failed attempt, the footsteps from the other corridor finally arrived. He looked up, still held fast by Heather’s grip, and watched dozens of Titans spill into the chamber.
“Oh, thank God,” Raj said, puffing his chest as best he could with Heather pinning his arm. “I need to talk to whichever of you is in charge.”
The lead Titan looked at Raj for one semi-puzzled second. A few final wisps of the earlier fog seemed to have followed them into the chamber and was circling their waists like a stink. The Titan exhaled, and some of the stuff seemed to puff out like smoke from a cigarette. The big white man was somehow different than Raj had seen Titans before. His eyes were lit with emotion, almost like a human.
The Titan put a strong hand on Raj’s free shoulder and pushed him aside without any effort. The blue flashing overhead began to throb, its tempo and intensity increasing as something continued to come undone.
“I’ve located Cameron Bannister and several of his cohorts and—”
Raj stopped when the Titan looked down onto the stone altar. He touched the empty space where the stone disk had been. He looked up, and Raj saw disappointment. Irritation. Maybe anger. He inhaled. Exhaled. A stubborn tendril of black smoke went in and out with every breath.
Raj backed away. Toward the far passage. Still, Heather held his arm.
“You’re wasting your time,” Raj said, almost laughing at the absurdity. “After all, they’re only Titans.”
Heather smiled wider.
One of the white beings moved to block each of the passageways. Then there was a guttural sound like a Reptar’s purr, even though there were none in the room.
Raj tried again to flee, suddenly becoming decidedly nervous.
“Fuck me,” Heather whispered, holding him fast, “like you fucked Trevor.”
Chapter Eighty-One
“Five minutes,” Nathan said. “Then we go.”
Coffey looked around. The courtyard was empty. The Titans had either dispersed into the city when the fog had been subsuming them, or they’d all — every single one of them — entered the Apex. Their absence was eerie. Not one of the waiting soldiers was calm. All were fiddling, watching the sky, looking up at the four motherships and the still-circling shuttles. The black fog had entirely vanished to reveal a perfectly powder-blue Colorado sky. The Apex was throbbing in the now-intense daylight like a bomb, an electric hum now audible beneath every cycle.
“We should go now. While we can.”
Nathan shook his head. “It led us here.”
“Not directly.”
“Maybe it was allowing time. Letting the Titans have what they needed to clear the square and go …” Nathan trailed off. There was no obvious place to end that sentence.
Coffey looked at him, sparing Nathan the irritation of voicing the same thought. She looked up at the Apex.
“Shouldn’t we go inside?”
Nathan shook his head. At least some of the Titans had gone inside; he’d seen their white hides retreating into the shafts. The plan had been to somehow destroy the thing — that’s what Meyer Dempsey had implied last night, though he’d never specifically said it. At the time, his suggestion had seemed obvious: Go to the fence, let your people in, then go to the Apex and destroy it before it can make whatever broadcast it’s about to make. When he’d run into Heather Hawthorne, who’d come his way to breach the fence, the coincidence had seemed even thicker, and Nathan had become even more certain that this was his mission — again, as endorsed by the viceroy.
But Dempsey never mentioned the blackout. Or the strange dark fog. It was as if he’d had no idea after all. He’d implied that Nathan had his support. But how? Why? The details were missing. Nathan was used to following his gut, but now it said nothing. They were the opposite of trapped. Nobody was around to intervene, as if nothing mattered. And maybe, judging by what he was seeing, the Apex was having its fits just fine without him. Unless this was the buildup to broadcast that he was supposed to stop? There wasn’t any obvious answer.
He looked around. The area remained soundless and empty.
“Fine. We go in.”
A thrashing, wailing noise screamed from inside the Apex. To Nathan, it sounded like a man drawn and quartered — a phenomenon, interestingly enough, that he’d witnessed.
The sounds of running, rushing feet followed the screams.
Coffey’s hand settled on his shoulder. He looked over to see her profile, eyes wide, staring at something to their rear.
When he turned again, Nathan saw a pair of shuttles hovering inches from the ground behind them. Waiting. Silently floating like giant ball bearings.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Cameron entered the harsh daylight at a run then skidded to a stop as he found the two silver shuttles greeting him like a dour welcoming committee. His arms went wide as he paused, heart pounding. He could hear the Titans and Reptars coming up the passage behind him. The sensations were so overwhelming, he barely saw Andreus even though he was practically standing in Cameron’s way.
“What?” Andreus demanded. “What’s going on?”
“We have to run! Go!”
The shuttles moved forward. Pinching them in. Narrowing the small space between the small contingent of soldiers who, Cameron was amused to see, had brought black motorcycles. Every one of them looked terrified and useless. All eyes wide.
Instead of running, Cameron backed up. He heard the comings behind him and stepped forward again. There was only one reachable way into the Apex — the huge, open-mouthed, downward-sloping tunnel behind him. Cameron could hear the Reptars purring. The patient plodding of Titan feet. He didn’t know if they were the same Astrals who’d entered the room as he’d been leaving with the stone key — that he’d seen, peeking around the corner, when they’d entered to surround Heather and Raj. After that, Cameron hadn’t hesitated. Maybe running made him a coward, but there were no heroes in that situation. Survivors ran. They’d learned that lesson at Cottonwood.
Behind Andreus, Jeanine Coffey attempted to flank right. The shuttle followed, barring her way. A tall man on the other side tried to go around, but the second in the pair moved to intercept.
“Run through them. Run past them.”
Coffey threw Cameron a loathsome look. But he’d had enough. Cameron had watched his father die; he’d watched kids die; he’d just run away from another two deaths because he’d wanted to live — and, if he wanted to give himself a tiny slice of cr
edit, to keep the stone key whole and hidden. But what good would it do now? Staying alive was exhausting. The emotions hard to endure. Piper was probably dead. Same for Terrence, Christopher, Lila, and everyone else. Only Clara was for-sure alive; Cameron could feel her. Could sense her searching his mind, optimistic like stupid kids were as they turned their backs on the world’s truths. She would find Thor’s Hammer for him. But a fat load of good it would do anyone, now that he was about to die. Again.
“Do it!” Cameron shouted at the shuttles.
Andreus turned to look at him sideways. So did Coffey. So did all of the others — who retreated toward the group’s mushy middle, where they might be safe as Cameron drew the spheres’ fire.
“DO IT!” Cameron repeated, stepping forward.
The shuttles didn’t move. And Cameron didn’t skirt. He walked right up to them and, knowing how irrational, stupid, and end-of-his-rope ridiculous he was being, shoved the one on the left like he’d push a stubborn person. The chrome-seeming skin was slick without being oily. It didn’t budge, and Cameron’s hands slipped across its surface, nearly slamming his chin and chest into its belly.
“Do it! Do it, you motherfuckers!” He turned, now seeing the shapes of Titans marching up the tunnel from behind. “You want to kill us, just fucking kill us!” He grabbed his satchel with both hands, feeling like the heavy thing was covered with blood: his father’s, Trevor’s, Danika’s, Ivan’s, and countless others. Cameron had been spared so the useless disk could survive. He wanted to pull it out now and smash it. To surrender in the loudest possible way. To show them he was through, that they could take their victory over Earth and shove it up their alien asses.
The giant chrome shuttle dropped three inches to the stone ground, leaving a crack.
Cameron stepped back.
It began to roll. Not naturally downhill, which would have been backward. But forward, with purpose.