Edge Walkers

by Shannon Donnelly

  “They seem to communicate with sounds,” Carrie said, her tone dry, her coffee half gone. “High frequencies. Some of them are probably above human hearing. Temple and his people wouldn’t have noticed because they don’t have obvious auditory senses. The Walkers also give the appearance of acting like an organized pack—which means a higher level of intelligence than you’d expect from something that appears to be energy-based. That also showed up in what I saw last night from the rings.”

  Jakes nodded. “Yeah, Gideon mentioned those last night.”

  Carrie slanted a glance at Gideon. Gideon stared back, lifted a hand in a ‘go for it’ gesture. She turned back to the others, drank the rest of her coffee, and slipped into what Gideon was starting to think of as her teaching voice.

  She’d have made a good teacher. She had patience, and she watched Jakes and Shoup, alert for subtle shifts in eye movement and body language that gave away their interest or their growing boredom. She tried to phrase things in layman’s terms, but Jakes kept shooting narrow-eyed glances over to Gideon—and he caught the challenge embedded in those looks. Jakes wasn’t happy with any of this.

  Shifting back to the main topic, Carrie said, “From what I’ve seen of the initial crossings, I don’t believe we’re drawing the Edge Walkers in—we’re not inviting them. We’re not opening doors for them. They’re punching through on their own wherever they find a weakness they can exploit.”

  Alert now, body tensed, Gideon turned to her. He caught the implications behind her words, but he couldn’t believe them. Not after so long. “Not my fault?” he said, the words so quiet only she would hear. She flashed a tight smile at him, muted sympathy and her own regret in her eyes before she faced Jakes and Shoup again.

  “It’s possible the Edge Walkers even created the Rift. Or it’s where they’re from. From what I’ve observed, they have to be tied to it in some fashion. In their discharged state, they almost appear to be made of the same substance as the Rift, but that’s where I’m heading into pure guesswork. What I do know is that they’re pulled back into the Rift when they lose an anchoring body. That’s why they need us. They need to inhabit a physical form to keep them in a physical world. We also know they feed on electrical power and use EM fields as a way to track food sources. What I don’t think anyone’s realized is just how good they are at that tracking.”

  Gideon nodded—this fit with what he knew, but Shoup had gone blank faced and Jakes frowned. Placing her empty coffee bowl in front of her, Carrie began to drawn in the dirt.

  “If this is a planetary body, imagine invisible fields around it—electromagnetic fields.” She drew lines around the bowl that curved around the bowl’s round edges. “We have polar magnetic lines—”

  “Ley lines,” Gideon said.

  She glanced up at him, nodding. “Exactly. And underneath that billions of smaller, natural EM fields. Get enough power going—”

  “It’s going to show up. It disrupts the other fields,” Gideon said.

  “Exactly. And electromagnetic fields extend infinitely through space—hell, probably through dimensions as well. I think Edge Walkers can sense every field fluctuation. They’re out there, in the Rift, just looking for changes.”

  “Smoke signals,” Shoup said. “They see ‘em and come running. Barbecue’s on.”

  Carrie took up her bowl, scrubbed out the lines. “If I’m right, when they find the right kind of field changes—something like from my experiment, or Gideon’s—they’re able to generate some kind of feedback loop that spikes an overload that tears open the Rift. Then they come through. And…well, I think it’s possible there are a lot of them out there. Maybe even more than one Walker inhabiting any one body.” She glanced at Gideon, held his stare for a heartbeat before she looked over to Jakes. “What we’re now seeing, the Rift opening on its own, over and over, that could be a symptom from Walkers tearing apart the fabric of every reality.”

  Hands cold, face chilled, Gideon turned to her. “That’s why it’s getting worse? It’s not us?”

  She nodded, dug a finger into dirt. “This is speculation, but…well, I can’t help but think something must have happened—a catalyst. A population explosion maybe and the Walkers needed more space, more food. Or maybe they just got greedy. However, I can’t shake the feeling that if we don’t figure this out soon, we might not have a home to get back to. The connection between myself and Gideon—it’s taking less and less to open a Rift, which I think means the Rift itself is being destabilized.”

  Jakes shifted his stare to the fire bowl, scratched his thickening beard, looked back to Carrie, eyebrows flat, his frown tight. “But you don’t know.”

  “You want facts?” Carrie said, her chin coming up. “Get me a Walker to study and a containment field to put it in. Until then, we’ve got observation from a distance and pure theory—and we can’t afford to ignore worse case scenarios. Like the one where the barriers between realities become so shredded from so many crossings they collapse. It’s like poking holes in a dam—sooner or later, it’s going to give.”

  Picking up his gun, Jakes pushed to his feet. “Not my orders, not our problem. We get back home, you can figure this out with the other brains.”

  Gideon stood as well. “Weren’t you listening?”

  Reaching out, Carrie touched his bare foot, stopped the rest of his words. She climbed to her feet and dusted her hands on her trousers. Even after having slept, she had dark smudges under her eyes. But she had her mouth set in a line and Gideon knew that look.

  She faced off against Jakes, her words clipped and tense. “There’s another issue to consider—what if we do open that door home? It’s going to be open for the Walkers, too. Maybe that’s what they want.”

  Carrie glanced at Gideon and he met the look, saw the worry darkening her eyes. Fear feathered down his spine—and he knew what she’d left unsaid. “That’s why they were hanging around where you crossed. They’re still looking for a way into your lab. A way across.”

  She met his stare. “One thing I saw from the rings, during Gideon’s crossing, he pulled what I think was their main anchor to Earth through to this world. That one action might have given us time back home. But the Walkers want out of this place worse than we do—they’ve drained this world so they need new feeding grounds.”

  Muscles going slack, Gideon fell back against stone. Jill had been meant to be the Walkers’ anchor to Earth? His arm burned from where the things inside her had grabbed him—they’d been trying to sink another Walker into him. He knew that, knew because he could still feel the spark of something trying to crawl into him. But he’d been dragged into the Rift and had crossed over to Temple’s world. And he had hold of Jill’s wrist. He’d pulled her reanimated, inhabited corpse, and whatever was inside, with him. Christ, if they felt anything, they must hate him for spoiling their plans. Blinking, he rubbed a hand over his eyes. He let out a breath and tried to focus on what Carrie was saying. But his world kept spinning.

  Not his fault—in fact, he might have done some good by getting himself stranded here, by pulling Jill’s body with him. He shook himself, pushed off the wall and rolled his shoulders to set them right again.

  Carrie was still talking.

  “…can’t really control it, but they ride the Rift like sharks riding an ocean current. I have to infer they have senses we don’t even begin to understand. As I said, this is all highly theoretical, but we seem to be dealing with intelligent energy that consumes energy. They’re rapacious predators that don’t know the definition of enough. But they know how to use us like we’re tools—like we’re…smart food.”

  Face numb, chest hollow, Gideon stared at Carrie. Her words echoed through him, struck, hard and heavy, and set off the warning instincts he’d honed over the past two years. When he put everything Carrie had been saying together with what he knew, he didn’t like where it led.

  Grabbing the edge of Carrie’s sleeve, he started for the door. “We have to go. Now.”r />
  Eyes narrowing, Jakes stepped forward to blocked the way. “Thought you said this place was safe?”

  Gideon ducked around the man. He grabbed Temple’s spare boots from the floor and grabbed the edge of Carrie’s tunic. She pulled free to lean down and pick up the laptop. He took hold of her sleeve again, pulled her with him. He threw his words back at Jakes and Shoup, “I’ll explain outside.”

  He got back sour stares that he ignored. He glanced back once more to send Temple an image, a quick warning. Fear flashed back, a wave of it that staggered him—okay, Temple had got what he’d sent. At the entrance, the reality of his fears waited for them.

  Walkers, pricks of bright, crawling flashes in the pre-dawn, flickered near the city edges.

  Glancing over his shoulder at Carrie, Gideon told her, “They never hit the sanctuary before you came. They’ve never come out of the city before, either. They’ve never hunted anyone like this.”

  Carrie nodded and her throat worked as she swallowed. Fear lay stark in her eyes. He wanted to take her hand, but he couldn’t. What if their connection opened the Rift now? What if it drew the Walkers? He didn’t dare touch her, but he moved closer, put himself between her and the things that wanted her.

  Wetting her lips, she looked at him and said, “I think they’re hunting me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It’s amazing what you can do when you have to—of course, having a Swiss Army Knife with a screwdriver helps. — Excerpt Carrie Brody’s Journal

  Carrie stared out at the dark land that lay under a sullen gray sky. Erratic sparks slipped between buildings, bright white flashes that disappeared and reappeared. Walkers. Sniffing the air, maybe the ground, picking up traces of something—an electrical signature, perhaps. Something that marked her specific EM field. She had almost opened a doorway to Earth, and she still might be able to open it fully. Which meant they wanted her, or wanted her knowledge. Could they get that from a body they had drained of life? Could they still access memories the way she was looking to access a dead computer—just apply fresh power to see the stored data?

  Her stomach twisted. Pulse kicking up fast and quick in her throat, she swallowed sharp bile, pressed a hand over the knot twisting her guts.

  Behind her, boots scrabbled on dirt and Jakes muttered, “Goddammit, I’m getting tired of being the rabbit. Shoup, you got eyes on you?”

  Shoup’s weapons shifted, clattered as he pulled out a pocket telescope. Glancing at him, Carrie’s fingers itched for the scope, but did she really want to see the faces of the Walkers hunting her? She fisted her hands at her sides until her knuckles ached. Damp, cold splatters struck her face and wet her shoulders. Jakes fit the palm-sized rectangle to his eye and scanned the city, lowered the scope and held it out to her. “That’s gotta be part of the why. Brody, tell me if that’s not your last guy.”

  “What?” Head snapping around, shock chilled her skin. “It couldn’t be. They’d all…in the lab, I saw…”

  Grabbing the scope, she put it to her eye, and took a deep breath. She went thought the memory again. She’d shoved the tech to the floor. Hadn’t he been left on the other side? And Thompson—bloody, eyes glazing…she knew he was dead. She didn’t want to see him like Chand. God, Chand. She’d seen him die with his eyes glowing and light spilling through cracks in his skin. Gulping down another breath, she forced her hands to steady. Through the telescope, she glimpsed a flap of white coat. She changed the focus and the blur sharpened. Zeigler’s pony tail stood out, ragged and frizzy from his bent head.

  “God—Zeigler.” She breathed out the words. She’d heard his scream, but she…she hadn’t seen him die. Was she even remembering how events had happened? Or had her mind started to fill in the blanks with images it had created? It didn’t matter, not when compared with what she was seeing.

  Zeigler staggered forward, surrounded by Walkers. She couldn’t focus tight enough for a glimpse of his eyes. Was he still human?

  Lowering the scope, she glanced at Gideon. “Walkers—do they ever take prisoners?”

  Gideon shook his head, slow and sure. “We’re food.”

  “And they’re desperate for a new source,” Carrie said. “Desperate enough to do things they’ve never done before.”

  Hand clenching on the hard edges of the scope, she ignored the cut of the metal. She’d thought herself tired, exhausted, but urgency sizzled under her skin as bright as those Walkers’ eyes. She’d never understood her dad—how he could sacrifice his life and the lives of others. How he’d thrown his own life away at the very end, and she was still angry with him for that. But sympathy for her dad flashed through her—this wasn’t going to be fun. However, she knew what needed to be done. She knew too well the price of inaction—and of failure.

  Heart thudding in her throat, she glanced at Gideon’s profile, pale in the faint light of early day. She thought of his wife, already dead. Her body taken. She thought of Temple and his family—his last living child. She heard Shoup and Jakes behind her, chambering rounds. She remembered Chand’s face, those ungodly white-lit eyes, and she looked back to where Zeigler staggered between Walkers. God, please let me get this right.

  Jaw clenched, she nodded. She put it into blunt words for herself and the others. “We have to go after him.”

  “We do,” Jakes said. He shifted his weapon into an easier grip, propped the butt on his hip. “You don’t.”

  She swung around to face him. “Like hell—”

  “The only way we’re going to out-flank those things to see what’s what with your guy down there is if you go one way, we go another. They head after you. Shoup and I come up behind. We need you as bait.”

  Shoup offered an easy grin. “Papa’s goin’ huntin’.”

  Gideon thrust a hand out to the flashes of light. “He’s dead already. They all are. You want a plan? We ambush them at the base of the foothills. Put everything walking to rest. Then we run.”

  Hefting the laptop in her arms—she needed Temple’s bag right now—Carrie glanced at Gideon before she looked back to the city. “Run where? I think we...” The words faded and she had to blink, to brush the stray drops of pending rain from her eyes and refocus. She stared at the ruins spread out below, the towers, the winding streets, the half fallen structures. Flashes of memories from the rings echoed and settled into firm knowing.

  That open square had been the civic center and that space to the left a park; the scent this time of year should be the spice of flowers blooming, and to the right she recognized the tall double-spikes of the Sky Tower. Temple had set up his world’s last effort to stop the Walkers there, in what was his equivalent to her lab. Memories not her own, left from the rings, shifted, merged and began to fit into an idea.

  Wetting her lips, she crouched down to draw in the dirt. “Okay, if we’re doing this, here’s the plan.”

  Jakes spoke her name the same time as Gideon, one man taking her given name, the other her Christian, both voices loaded with warning. She glanced at Jakes, saw his mouth tighten and his glare shift to Gideon. She looked to him as well, already knowing the arguments he’d make. She knew because she’d seen his memories—she’d felt the shattering loss from his wife’s death as if it were her own. And she knew what it was like to watch someone you love die.

  Keeping her stare steady on Gideon, she said, “Gotta trust me.”

  The words were for Jakes, too. Both men shifted on their feet. Gideon’s mouth pulled down and stubborn, and he shook his head. He turned and strode back into the cavern. Carrie bit her lower lip and tried to not care about the sharp jab in her chest left by his departure.

  If Gideon wanted out, he had that right. She would not call his name, and would not show the hurt welling. She had her own tasks ahead of her.

  Turning back to the dirt, she began to map the city. “Here’s where I crossed by the old quarry. Here’s Temple’s lab—” She looked up at Jakes and Shoup. “No, don’t ask how I know. I know.”

  “G
oddamm rings,” Jakes muttered. “Least it’s intel. But how is it you think you’re running this show?”

  She sat back on her heels. “Because I’m the one who does know. We don’t have time to argue, or for you to get the memories I have. So here’s what I’m thinking.” She laid out most of her plan, held back the parts she knew they wouldn’t like. She hadn’t grown up a colonel’s daughter without learning something about ‘need to know.’ Half way through, Gideon returned. She glanced at him, and had to hang onto the ground to keep her crouching balance on her heels. He kept his distance until she rose, the laptop clutched like a shield over her chest.

  She didn’t say anything, but she offered Gideon a wary glance. Lifting her eyebrows, she sent him unspoken questions—ones she couldn’t ask in front of Jakes and ones she just couldn’t voice.

  The faintest smile twisted one side of his mouth, as if he knew she’d been worried—and that he was sorry for it. He held out her running shoes with one hand and a bag like the one she’d seen on Temple. “You’ll need these.”

  She nodded, gave him back half a smile. Sitting down, she slipped on her shoes, kept her stare on the laces, so she wouldn’t embarrass herself or Gideon with anything like relief that he wasn’t leaving her side. Jakes kicked at a rock and Shoup stood guard and Gideon said nothing.

  When Carrie stood again, Jakes said, “Don’t like it. Bad enough we’re splitting up.” He started tapping his trigger finger on his gun, the beat an even staccato.

  Gideon folded his arms. “She didn’t ask if we liked it. The question is will you do what she asked?”

  Bending down, Carrie slipped the laptop into the bag. She straightened and the crystal shard in her pocket pressed into her hip from the weight of the non-working laptop. She shifted the bag to lean it more on her butt and looked out at the city and the lights dancing closer. This distant, the Walkers almost looked pretty. A dry wind scoured her face. Sharp ozone stung her nose and she caught the faint stench of rotting flesh.