Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy Book 3)

by Rachel Fisher

  “Yeah, Asher. You point it at people and kill them. I get it.”

  Asher started to say something, but Gary waved him off. “Don’t worry. I’ll show her.” He nodded toward the open door, distant screams still drifting in the pre-dawn air. “Lead the way.”

  Boom!

  “Jesus!” Gary snarled. “What the hell is that?”

  Asher swallowed. “That, Gary, is the shit we didn’t plan for.”

  ------------ Sean ----------

  Sean stared in horror at the battlefield. Growing flames lit the smoky air, jumping from treetop to treetop. Reds and ochres stained the darkness as figures wrestled and screamed…and fell.

  He desperately wanted to help, but his “Great Wall” was barely holding it together against the herd of terrified Truthers. The bravest and strongest bore the SWAT shields, holding the most forceful back. Elsewhere, only the joined hands of the Army kept the Truthers in check. Occasional scuffles broke out at points, but so far, the line had held without bloodshed. It was a non-violence as fragile as a soap bubble. He prayed that it would hold.

  “Let us go!”

  “Please, don’t hurt us! We have children!”

  The cries rose and fell. Initially the Truthers’ pleas for mercy had nearly destroyed the entire plan as Army members had responded with rage. But Sean and Luc’s urging and constant reassurance had kept the Army under control.

  “We only want you to listen!” Luc ran along the edge of the circle, urging the Army members to repeat the mantra. “Tell them!” he cried. “We won’t hurt you. We only want you to listen!”

  After an initial exodus of terrified Truthers, the remainder had settled into sobbing huddles. With each explosion from the invisible but massive gun, the entire group would throw themselves to the ground, but so far the shells had fallen mostly to their north.

  “Sean!” Luc shouted, waving from twenty yards away. “Look!”

  Sean turned where Luc was pointing and saw several of the Seekers rushing onto the battlefield from the east. Asher’s platoon must have succeeded! Relief flooded him, followed swiftly by dismay when a skeletal Gary emerged and ran shakily into the fray with an AK-47 in his hands. He stopped to help a fallen Seeker to his feet and they disappeared into the trees.

  Dammit, Sean thought, this wasn’t the plan. They needed the Seekers to fight. His heart pounded as he wrestled with his desire to follow them onto the battlefield. He was needed!

  “Sean.” Luc was beside him, his voice low. From the look in his eyes Sean could tell that he’d seen the same thing. “Go. I’ve got the Army.”

  “Are you sure, Luc?”

  “Yes, I’ve got it. Go, Sean!” Luc shouted, turning back and running to a section where new screams had arisen. “Hey! Hold the line! Hold the line there!”

  There was no more choice. Sean took a deep breath and raced into the clash, his staff ready. He got no farther than fifteen feet into the mass of seething combatants when he heard a rapid staccato of gunshots and hit the ground. A blood-covered Lobo stood laughing as he emptied his magazine into a retreating Seeker, who made it ten feet before falling.

  “No!” Sean jumped up and ran at the Lobo, his staff above his head. The Lobo whirled but Sean closed the gap quickly and caught him in the side. The man’s ribs crunched as his staff connected. The Lobo howled and swung his weapon. Just as he fired, his face exploded. Blood and brains hit Sean in the face as the Lobo crumpled. In the Lobo’s place there now stood an emaciated woman gripping a pistol.

  “Georgina?”

  She stood, shocked, her gun still pointed, only now it was at Sean. He approached her carefully. She was still as a statue. “I killed him, Sean. He was going to kill you, and instead I killed him.” She erupted into a wild laugh.

  Sean put his hand on her shoulder. She startled, dropping the gun.

  “Jesus!” Sean jumped back, but the gun didn’t go off.

  BOOM!

  “Get down!” Sean shoved Georgina to the ground and threw himself on top of her. The air and ground became one and they were showered with mud. His ears popped, and sound became muffled, but he could hear what sounded like crying. He looked down. Georgina was sobbing beneath him. “C’mon, Georgina,” he said, trying to help her up.

  She fought him, curling into a ball. “Just leave me here, Sean. Please.”

  A Lobo came running toward them and Sean dragged the melting woman behind a tree. He had to do something or she was going to get them both killed! He hoisted her onto his back and stumbled back toward the Army lines. She was limp and weeping. When he reached his Army, he set her down as gently as he could.

  “Take care of her guys,” he gasped.

  “Is she hurt?” The nearest woman asked, concerned.

  “Yes.” Sean stared at the hysterical woman with deep sadness. Georgina had basically been his boss. She was a woman he respected and admired, with a one-of-a-kind mind. What had these animals done to her? “She’s hurt pretty bad,” he choked.

  -------------- Darryl -------------

  Darryl’s hands ached from holding the line against the Truthers in this twisted do-or-die game of Red Rover.

  “Let us go! Please, we don’t want to die!” The Truther was just an elderly woman, but her panic made her strong. She ripped at his arms, tugging desperately.

  He tightened his grip on his neighbors. Their eyes met and they delivered their line in unison. “We only ask that you listen.”

  BOOM!

  Everyone crouched as the shell exploded to the north, but the Army of Eden held fast. The Truther sank to her knees, sobbing. “Why do you keep saying that? Listen to what?”

  “Little help?” Luc shouted from down the line and Darryl’s head swung around. “Little help here?”

  Darryl turned to his neighbors, a man and woman he’d just met who hailed from the Philadelphia NET. “I have to go.” The couple nodded and grabbed each other, stepping together and releasing him from the human fence. Darryl raced toward Luc’s voice, his mind humming. He was definitely a new sort of Darryl…the sort of Darryl who would wear black greasepaint and carry a knife…the sort of Darryl who ran toward danger rather than away from it.

  As he made his way around the rings of the Army, Luc waved him to the north and he saw Commander Julius crouching over someone. He raced to his side. Julius was covered in blood, his hands pressed over a wound in the soldier’s chest.

  “Can you help him, Darryl?” Julius asked. We need someone to get him to the med tent, but…” his voice trailed off.

  BOOM!

  A crater blew open twenty yards to the north.

  “Dammit!” Julius shouted, his head ducked. “We better find a way to stop that thing fast.”

  “I’ve got him, Commander,” Darryl said, pulling the soldier’s left arm over his shoulders. “You have to go!”

  Julius nodded and took one last look at them before disappearing into the smoke. Darryl cradled the soldier’s lolling head against his shoulder as he stood, groaning. He pressed his hand over the gurgling wound in the man’s chest. He wished he could remember this soldier’s name, but he was one of the General’s guys and he hadn’t really met them. “C’mon, soldier. You’re gonna be ok.” Darryl strained as he guided them, stumbling across the cratered, body-littered landscape toward the med tent.

  It probably took only minutes to find the charred tarp that was serving as their field hospital, but it seemed to take hours. His charge grew closer to deadweight with each new spurt of blood from between Darryl’s fingers. He half-lunged, half-dragged the flagging soldier beneath the tarp and screamed, “I need help!”

  Three heads turned from their work, their faces hidden behind masks. One raced to help Darryl, falling to his knees beside the soldier. He pressed his hands over the soldier’s chest and turned to look back at the others. “Jonas, get over here! I need you!”

  Darryl backed away, panting, as the men went to work. His legs quivered with the effort of hauling the larger man here, but
he was grateful that he’d been able to do it. His logical mind understood that the soldier’s chance of living was extremely slim, but at least he’d given him one.

  BOOM!

  He ducked and then swung his head as he heard a shriek of terror. A medic was struggling with a female patient. She cried and batted at his arms. Her hands were cocooned in bandages, giving the impression that she was boxing. Darryl raced to help.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Let me die…just please, let me die…” The woman dissolved into wracking sobs and curled into a ball as the medic released her. “Just let me die.”

  “You’re not going to die, ma’am,” the medic was saying, his voice muffled by his mask. “I promise, you’re going to be ok.”

  “No. We’re all going to die.” She rolled back to face them and Darryl gasped.

  “Georgie?”

  She stared back at him with dead eyes. “We’re all going to die,” she repeated, curling back into a ball.

  His stomach turned and his hands began to shake. He turned to the medic. “What did they do to her?”

  The medic sighed. “Her physical condition is not life-threatening, but we’re pretty sure that she, uh,” he slowed, staring at Darryl’s reddening face. “We’re pretty sure she was tortured.”

  Darryl choked and fell to his knees beside her. “No! Georgie, no!” He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes.

  The medic shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. For the first time Darryl noticed the man’s youth. He couldn’t be much more than a teenager. “They choked her, man. And broke her hands and fingers. Who does that? Who chokes a lady?”

  Darryl’s heart shattered. He’d thought he had already died, but he was wrong because he was dying all over again. All he could imagine was that Lobo. Cecil. He’d reached for her. He’d wanted…

  Darryl turned away and retched, dry heaving the nothing in his gut, trying to choke up his soul so that he could be parted from it once and for all. She wouldn’t look at him. They tortured her because she was on the Council. Because of his big Goddamned mouth. This was his fault. All his fault. “Georgie,” his voice shook. “Tell me who did this to you.”

  She squeezed her eyes and shook her head.

  “Tell me. Tell me who did this.” The burn in his chest wouldn’t leave. He wanted to choke again, to heave it away, but it was lodged, stuck and growing, licking at his ribcage and searing his heart. It pushed into his brain, to the back of his eyes, pouring out in hot tears like lava rising to the surface.

  She opened her eyes, swimming with tears. “The Ghost. It was the Ghost.”

  Darryl nodded, his own tears dripping from his nose. She didn’t even stir as they spattered onto her cheek and hair. “I’m going to make it right, Georgie,” he whispered. “I promise.” He kissed her cheek and raced from the tent.

  Behind him a small voice called, “Mr. Darryl, wait!” but he ignored it. His pulse was roaring in his ears, drowning out the noise of the battle: the screams and explosions, the crackle of flame and splitting trees. All of it pulsed into a single black hum like the dream that had haunted him for so long.

  There was only one thing. Only one aim. Only one person left in the world. And if he still draws breath, Darryl thought, I’ll make it his last. As he stumbled across the battlefield, he searched the bodies for weapons. When he found a machete, he charged at the nearest Lobo, screaming. “Where’s Silas?”

  The Lobo whirled away from the frantic arcs of Darryl’s weapon. “What?” He ducked as Darryl swung again. “Are you crazy, man?”

  Darryl roared and lunged at him, knocking him onto his back. He jumped on him and jammed the machete against his throat. “Where is Silas?”

  The Lobo wrestled with him, grunting. “I don’t know, man. I think he’s up against a tree or something.” Darryl pressed down and he choked, pointing. “Over there, man! Over there!”

  Darryl jumped up and gave the Lobo a vicious kick in the ribs before tearing off. “Silas!” he screamed. “Silas! Where are you?”

  He stumbled over a body in the darkness and stopped when it cursed. The firelight wavered in a gust of wind, lighting Silas’ chalky face. The Ghost must have gotten a good look at him as well, because he barked out a laugh. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Shoulda guessed you’d come back to haunt me, Darryl. Like every-fucking-thing else.”

  Darryl panted, standing over his enemy. “Get up, Silas. Get up and fight like a man!” He kicked his leg. “Or do you prefer to beat up women?”

  Silas raised an eyebrow and coughed, his breath wheezing. “Ahhh, is that what this is about? Your nerdy little girlfriend? Don’t you think she’s a little old…aaaaaaauuuuuugggh!”

  Darryl’s strike found its mark, the machete biting deep into Silas’ thigh.

  “Motherfucker!” Silas screamed. “You don’t have to kill me. I’m dead anyway, man. And for the record, I’m not the one who touched her.”

  Darryl crouched over Silas, finally noticing the black stains soaking his clothing and torso. “Yeah? Well that’s not what she said.” He raised his machete.

  “Are you going to kill a dying man, Darryl?”

  Darryl stopped, blinking.

  “A defenseless man…”

  “You’ve never been defenseless!” Darryl’s snarl steadied his limbs and he lunged forward, his machete falling. His blade thunked as it bit into Silas’ neck, the hot blood spurting into Darryl’s face. A spike of white-hot agony slid into his chest and he gasped, his eyes falling in shock to the knife in his chest.

  “You’re right,” Silas choked, gurgling. His hand still gripped the blade running through Darryl’s heart. “I’ve never been defenseless.”

  Darryl’s torso was engulfed in flames, his breath rattling. He fell onto his face beside the growing pool of Silas’ blood. The Ghost’s eyes twitched, fixing, and then went blank. The dirt puffed beneath Darryl’s nose. His lungs begged for air, but the breath passed through him as if he were the ghost.

  “Mr. Darryl?”

  He blinked. Black streaks tore at the edge of his vision. A little girl crouched at his side. She had a shock of white curls and wide eyes…blue, maybe.

  “Help!” she screamed, rolling him onto his back. “Somebody help me!” She leaned over him, her voice sweet like an angel. “Stay with me, ok? Please, Mr. Darryl.”

  The world went black and came back again. Something wasn’t right. He was so tired… A shadow snarled and flashed above him, slamming into another shadow. The little angel screamed.

  Don’t cry, angel…

  The black streaks melted together.

  Don’t cry…Georgie.

  The Big Gun

  --------------- Fi ----------------

  Fi, Sara, and José surged up the hill toward the settlement with the handful of armed colonists. They ran through a cloud of what she thought was smoke until her eyes and nose began to sting. Ugh. She pulled her bandana down to filter the tear gas, but her eyes streamed and everyone coughed until they’d reached clearer air.

  Sara pointed. “Look, Fi. The Army’s got the Truthers separated. The fighters are all up there.”

  Fi followed Sara’s gaze. She was right. Most of the combat was to the north, along the cliff. Below, the Truthers were corralled by the Army of Eden. Good, she thought, at least some of the plan was working.

  BOOM!

  A chunk of tree to her right blew apart, sending branches the size of steel girders crashing to the ground just behind them.

  “Get down!” A deep voice shouted.

  BOOM!

  She and Sara dropped and a crater of soil erupted twenty feet to their right as the Truthers and Army members screamed and cowered.

  “Shit! What the hell kind of gun is that?” Sara shouted over the din.

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t in our plans,” Fi replied. Or their armory, she thought, terrified to think what else they might have missed. They raced north, toward the battlefield. When they reached the edges o
f the combat, they ducked behind trees, searching for Asher and Sean. Fi saw the grey t-shirts of Eden’s Seekers and was relieved that they’d been freed.

  “Look!” Sara pointed. “Those must be the General’s forces!”

  The dawn sun was starting to break through the haze and along the cliff Fi saw the Seals, pulsing shadows in head-to-toe black. Many appeared to have exhausted their ammunition and were now fighting the Lobos hand-to hand.

  A bloodcurdling shriek rose from the east and a Lobo stumbled out of the smoke clutching a gaping wound in his chest before falling.

  “Asher!” Fi ran in the direction from which the Lobo had come. The smoke cleared and there he was, his sword coming around and taking another Lobo down.

  “Why won’t you just SURRENDER?” he screamed.

  “Asher!”

  “Fi!”

  His face erupted into a hundred emotions as he ran to her and hustled her behind a tree. He was covered with blood, but she was relieved to see that it mostly wasn’t his. With the exception of a nice slice to his left forearm, Asher was in one piece.

  “What are you doing here, Fi? Where’s Luke?” His voice was panicked.

  “He’s safe, Ash. He’s with Lucy. We heard the big gun and saw the fire. We had to come back, to help.” She gestured at the twenty “armed” fighters they’d brought.

  His eyes darted over the crowd and he exhaled. “Hey, everyone. José,” he nodded.

  The younger boy bowed his head. “Ash. How can we help?”

  Asher sighed. “We could definitely use some help. A few things haven’t gone according to plan. Like the big gun. And the Seekers. Mostly the big gun.” Nearby, cries drew his attention and he peered around the tree to check on it before turning back.

  “What about the Seekers, Ash?” Fi said.

  “Let’s just say that they weren’t in fighting form,” Asher answered, craning his neck for a better view.

  “What?” What the hell did that mean? Was he losing it?