Arnot gasped for air, terrified, with each step it was becoming harder and harder to hold off the vortex that would reunite his two halves.
‘I won’t be coming home!’ Arnot’s mind yelled at him, and quite clearly he knew the thought to be true. His resolve weakened for a moment, and his control wavered. The momentary lapse cost him and his projected hand slipped from Avi’s; once the connection was broken a massive vortex opened and flung him back to his body which was only about fifty yards behind him. He slammed together and was thrown onto his back. Suddenly the wind howled and tore at him like a wild thing. He was roughly pushed along the ground, bouncing over the rocky terrain. When he finally got control of himself he was flat on his stomach perhaps another twenty yards farther behind the three women. He forced his head up and into the teeth of the windstorm. His eyes watered profusely but even so he couldn’t help but see the massive bridge that led to the other side. The power of the feat was astounding and he felt a sudden awe for his sister. As he watched, a body flew out of the bridge and through the air. The unfortunate passed over the heads of the three female Travelers before it landed and rolled along the boulder strewn field. Arnot turned momentarily and followed the progress of the body as it bounced and spun along the ground before finally coming to a stop perhaps twenty feet in front of him. Arnot shifted his attention back to the bridge. On the other side it was night also, but a well lit building appeared clearly through the opening. The scene hung before him for just a moment, then the three women stepped through and into the other world and without warning the bridge snapped closed with a thundering boom! The night grew quiet and still, the only sound coming from the pounding of Arnot’s heart.
“NO!” Arnot yelled after his sister, but she was no longer in a world where she could hear him.
XVI
“God is not a busy body.”
Galen Dawkins
May 6th 2015 Old Earth
Adam only froze for a split second when Dr. Paula Ratner’s head disintegrated then his military training took over. Out of pure reflex, he dropped to the floor just as the group of professional looking men scattered to find cover. His low center of gravity helped immensely when the freak storm suddenly opened up. The wind howled through the archways as if it were trying to blow them all the way to hell. The blast of wind was at his back, pushing him toward Galen, who stood calmly in the center of the pavilion floor, hands outstretched, covered in Paula’s blood and topped with bits of brain and bone. Instinctively Christine rushed toward Paula with a look of pure horror on her face, but it was obvious her friend was dead…very dead.
The terrific force of the wind pushed Adam forward until he was within a few feet of Galen, but he dared not try to reach for him for fear of being blown out of the pavilion. Adam shouted but Galen apparently could not hear him, and just continued to stare out to the north, a look of shock on his face.
“Galen!” Adam yelled with all his might, but the boy still did not respond. Adam slowly shifted his head and he caught sight of….of something utterly impossible, a large round window burst into view just outside the north wall of the pavilion, inside there was only darkness but the lights of the pavilion lit a large section of what looked to be a flat, rocky field. The field appeared in the middle of the outside patio where nothing but concrete and stairs should be, and in the forefront were three women, two were dressed in gray slacks with a white shirt, but what was truly odd was that the two sported flowing gray capes trimmed in blue. The youngest of the three however, was clad in a pair of jean shorts and a white St. Louis Cardinal t-shirt. She would have looked almost normal except for the pair of swords she had strapped to her waist.
‘Angels!’ Came to mind and Adam’s eyes grew wide. He slowly climbed to his knees, carefully bracing himself against the wind, and looked wildly over at Galen. The boy was standing in the center of the storm, happily smiling at the three newcomers despite his gruesome toppings. He stood effortlessly holding his bag of peaches, despite the fact that the torrent of wind and noise buffeted those around the perimeter. Apparently he was standing in the very center of the storm where it was calm, not a hair was out of place and his clothing hung undisturbed on his body.
“Galen!” Adam yelled again, just as one of the federal agents lost his battle with the storm and was blown completely off his feet. Adam watched horrified, as the man sailed through the window and into the rocky plain beyond. The three women ignored the man as he flew overhead and stepped forward. After a long struggle Christine finally managed to reach Galen; as she did, her hair, which was whipping around behind her suddenly fell about her shoulders. She’d entered the calm of the storm, but then she suddenly spun and fell to the ground. She landed on her side, facing Adam and he could a see blood already beginning to darken her powder blue blouse. Galen looked down at her, his face stricken.
“Help!” He cried to the three strange women.
“Christine!” Adam yelled at the exact same moment but his voice was carried away with the wind so even he could barely make it out. He crouched lower. Someone was firing on them. The federal agents perhaps, but he didn’t think so. He’d heard the call to cease fire. No federal agent he knew of would fire on unarmed civilians and certainly not after a direct order to hold fire.
As Adam struggled forward he could see that Christine was conscious, her eyes were open and looking his way, but he felt sure that she was not seeing him. There was no pain in her expression, just shock and fear.
With renewed strength, Adam scrambled crablike over to his sister’s side. The wind howled in his ears for a moment and then suddenly all was quiet. He glanced up and the window was gone. The three women calmly stepped into the pavilion and were moving toward Galen, who dropped to the ground at Christine’s side. “Help!” He yelled to the women once more.
“Halt!” One of the agents shouted and drew his handgun in one smooth motion. He swung the barrel quickly toward the approaching females.
“No!” Adam yelled, but before the word was even fully formed one of the women sprang forward faster than he would have thought possible and swung a gleaming silver sword and the agent lost his hand, gun and all. He screamed and went down, holding up the stump of his arm in disbelief. The wounded agent only had a moment to ponder the loss, because his head soon followed his hand, bouncing along the pavilion floor. Another shot cracked in the night air, this time from a pistol, and then another pop from much farther away. One of the women went down and then all hell broke loose.
The remaining two women were everywhere, drawing swords and killing agents. Adam could only look on in disbelief. It was not possible for anyone to move so fast, another pop sounded in the distance and then the younger of the two angels turned and looked to the south, her swords dripping blood and gore all over the whitewashed floor of the pavilion; a split second later she was gone, tearing out of the building. When Adam finally regained a bit of his poise, he realized that there was a hand gun lying on the pavilion floor not five feet from him. He moved away from Christine for a second and retrieved it and then quickly returned to her side, somehow feeling infinitely better now that he was armed.
“Avigail!” Galen yelled after the running young woman, but Adam paid the boy no mind as a pair of agents suddenly appeared from behind an archway. They slowly moved apart, nervously pointing their pistols in the direction of the most beautiful woman Adam had ever laid eyes on. She was older than the runner…middle-aged perhaps, but with a youthful, pixie face highlighted by shoulder length blue black hair and large dark eyes. The woman, who was perhaps twenty feet from the nearest agent, stood very still, and looked calmly into the barrel of his gun. For a long moment no one moved, the woman remained so still Adam would have thought time had stopped but for the blood slowly dripping from the tips of her swords.
“Hold it!” The closest agent ordered and to his credit his voice wavered only slightly. It was an impressive feat of control, what with the severed head of one of his men not three feet away. “Do
n’t move! You bat an eyelash and you’re dead!” He added as the other agent continued to circle around until he had the woman safely boxed.
The woman appeared not to understand; nevertheless she didn’t move, at least at first.
“I’m Special Agent Armstrong, just calm down and no one else has to get hurt,” the man promised. The woman did not answer and even closed her eyes for a brief moment and then in an instant she was next to the agent, whose hand dropped along the pavilion floor with a clatter, the pistol still clutched tightly in the palm. Agent Armstrong stared at the woman, confused for a moment, but then he glanced down at his stump of a wrist and let out an agonizing scream. Instinctively he pulled his wounded arm toward his chest and slumped to the ground. His breath hissed loudly between his teeth as he waited for the woman to remove his head. In his heart he knew the woman would not spare him, he could see it in her eyes. She was no stranger to death and wouldn’t think twice about killing him.
“Shit!” his partner yelled and brought up his weapon. The woman raced toward the new threat but it was just a bit too far. Adam however turned and shot just a split second before the agent, hitting him in the right kneecap. The man went down with a scream, his pistol clattering on the stone floor. Vio quickly kicked away the weapon and stood above the wounded man, pointing her right sword directly at his face. The agent continued to cry out until suddenly he noticed the sword and then his protestations came to an abrupt end. She gazed silently at him for a second longer and must have decided he was no longer a threat because she turned and stared hard at Adam. He held her gaze, reminded of the men he knew in Afghanistan; professional fighting men; men unafraid of battle; men unaffected by killing. It was a hard, cold look from such a beautiful face, which made it all the more terrifying.
Agent Armstrong groaned as he removed his necktie. He attempted to wrap it around his wound as a tourniquet but froze as the woman eyed him coldly. But again she did not approach him. Instead she moved to the south side of the pavilion.
“Avigail!” She yelled and the young woman in the cardinal shirt reappeared instantly. The younger of the two…Avigail, said something in a language Adam could not understand and then moved to Galen, a look of awe on her face. The boy grimaced at her and spoke in the same foreign tongue, motioning toward Christine. The girl nodded and knelt before Galen. Slowly she reached out and grasped his hand. She brought it to her mouth and brushed her lips against his knuckles before turning her attention to Christine. Everything was quiet for just a moment, but then the older woman let out a sob.
“N’dori!” She cried and rushed to the lone woman who was down. She knelt by her side and began to inspect her wounds but as Adam looked on he knew there was little hope. The prone woman had been shot in the chest and was clearly dead; her eyes stared blindly at the ceiling above. Watching her, Adam remembered his sister, and glanced down. Christine’s eyes were closed and for a brief moment Adam feared she was also dead, but when he touched her she was warm, and he could feel her heart beating frantically in her chest, but she was losing a lot of blood.
‘We have to get out of here. We have to get to a hospital,’ Adam thought wildly.
“Galen, we have to go!” Adam shouted far louder than he intended. The older woman spun on him, swords still drawn and stared at him with wide expressionless eyes and like Agent Armstrong, Adam saw his death in them.
Galen held out a hand to the woman and smiled. He said something and the woman frowned, but then nodded. Her gaze briefly returned to Adam and he saw her features soften and her beauty returned. Adam stared at her, wide-eyed and captivated then suddenly he felt foolish. But the woman ignored him and closed her eyes and after a brief pause she began to move her arms gracefully about in the air as if she were beginning to dance.
Despite his worry for his sister, despite his fear, Adam found that he couldn’t take his eyes from the graceful lines of the woman’s back. He could see her arms flowing through the air and had the sudden desire to know her name.
‘Who was she and where did she come from?’ He thought, but his sister suddenly groaned and his attention returned to her. As the strange woman continued to weave her arms about before her, Galen scooted closer to Adam and began to gather up the spilled peaches which were strewn about the floor of the pavilion. When he was finished Galen reached out and touched Christine lightly on the forehead.
“Bring her Adam. We’re going,” Galen told him and then looked sadly down at Dr. Paula Ratner’s body. After a moment the young man stood and turned back to face the woman with the dancing arms.
Adam nodded blankly without truly understanding. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and carefully lifted his sister in his arms. She was light…far lighter than he’d expected and he abruptly realized just how fragile women were, how graceful and insubstantial…and yet as he looked at the two strange women he now knew just how deadly they could be.
As he moved toward the three of them he could make out something strange forming before the woman. There was a shimmering in the air, a growing haze of darkness. As he watched, the haze solidified quickly and became a forested landscape.
“Adam Dawkins!” Agent Armstrong said sharply and Adam glanced over at the man, who was still on the ground, white-faced and clutching his wounded arm. “I know who you are!”
Adam stared at the man, suddenly horrified by all that had happened. Federal agents had died here tonight…a lot of agents. It didn’t seem possible; the night had turned to chaos so rapidly, but at the moment he cared only about the well-being of his sister.
“We’ll find you!” Armstrong promised and something in his tone made the younger woman turn. She moved toward the downed agent, swords twirling menacingly. Armstrong’s eyes widened slightly in fear but then Galen spoke to her. She answered in her strange language and Galen nodded.
“Take care of her friend’s body Cord,” Galen told the man simply, “and take care of Dr. Ratner’s. She says she will find you if you don’t,” he said, passing on the threat that showed clearly in the younger woman’s eyes.
“This didn’t have to happen,” Galen added sadly but then paused as the older woman said something unintelligible to him. Galen nodded and Adam felt the lightest touch on his right elbow. He glanced down at the younger woman…a girl really, clearly a teenager. She smiled at him shyly.
“Hello Adam; my name is Avigail” she said in halting, heavily accented English. “What’s up?”
But before he could answer she smiled at him again and said “Travel!” When at first he didn’t move the girl urged him forward and together he, Galen and Avigail, moved out of the pavilion and into a dark, forested night.
†
Nico Torres smiled as he fired his M21 sniper rifle, he reveled in the recoil of the weapon and less than a heartbeat later he saw Dr. Paula Ratner’s head explode all over the boy who was the primary target.
‘I deliver thee onto Jesus,’ Nico thought and mentally crossed himself. He had no real wish to kill the doctor, but she had the misfortune to wander into his line of fire. From Nico’s vantage point he could see the feds were moving in and would have custody of the boy within a matter of seconds. If that happened it would greatly hamper his ability to complete his assignment. But Nico was not about to let the feds get the glory and kept his eye glued to the sight, waiting for another opening. When the red mist that was Ratner’s skull and brains died away, he quickly honed in on the boy.
Nico’s finger slowly tightened on the trigger, the boy’s right temple lined perfectly in the crosshairs. Nico smiled but then, with no warning at all, the wind began to howl, tearing at the bushes surrounding him, causing the thin branches to whip to and fro and rake across the assassin’s face and arms, disrupting his timing. The gun fired but the shot went well wide. Nico cursed and was forced to drop his head down for protection, his face only inches from the pungent mulch used to protect and decorate the park landscape. He was being pummeled unmercifully by the surrounding foliage and wa
s forced to keep low as the sudden storm abruptly intensified. For several long moments Nico could do little but hunch down and protect himself. The wind grew so strong that Nico’s face and arms were soon covered with tiny scratches and even though he was lying flat on the ground he could feel himself being pushed forward by the force of the wind at his back. Despite the fact that he would lose his cover, Nico realized he couldn’t stay put and crawled quickly out of the line of bushes. He glanced up briefly, thinking to see lightning from the storm but the sky remained dark and even more puzzling, it was utterly clear. Nico could just make out a few stars shining overhead before he turned his attention back to the pavilion and the boy.
He raised his rifle, caught sight of the target. Surprisingly, despite the torrent of wind and noise that engulfed the area, the boy was standing calmly beneath the lights…a perfect target. And though the boy apparently had little trouble resisting the raging storm, Nico struggled against the wind, fighting to keep his rifle steady as he attempted to line up another shot. Finally, after several frustrating seconds, he managed to center the boy once more in the crosshairs. Without hesitation he squeezed off another shot just as Christine Dawkins moved in front of the target. The bullet struck her high on left shoulder. She spun around and went down immediately. Nico refrained from prayer, knowing in all likelihood that it was not a kill shot and shook his head in amazement. The boy had unearthly luck and the thought that his target was blessed by God flittered through his mind. He dismissed the idea quickly. Nico was absolutely positive that he was the only one in this park blessed by God. He had complete faith in the notion, so he fought the wind, searching through the telescopic sight for the boy, but for the moment his bearings were lost. Instead of the target he caught sight of two oddly dressed women and a young girl who unexpectedly appeared within the pavilion. They came out of nowhere; two were dressed in long flowing capes, which reminded Nico of Zorro. ‘Who in the hell wears a cape anymore? He thought crazily and to complete the illusion, they each had a pair of swords strapped at their waist, and as they moved forward they drew them…one in each hand!
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 23