Green Lantern - Sleepers Book 2

by Unknown Author

  Malvolio emerged from the tunnel. He looked calm and centered, made whole by his regenerated power.

  he soldiers, Japanese and American, slowly got to their feet, dazed by the force of the blast. Instinctively they focused on Malvolio-the will of his presence overrode any previous thought to wipe each other out. They knew they were in the presence of great power, and Malvolio relished it. As he stepped forward, the soldiers inched back, some crawling, stumbling away from his evil.

  The first man motivated to act was Brenenthal. Lying wounded, his hand inched towards the nozzle of a flame thrower. The tank of the device was still attached to a dead marine, cut down before he could fully engage his monstrous weapon.

  T

  Brenenthal was stealthy. The air was charged with the promise of destruction.

  Malvolio heard a scream and turned to see a Japanese officer charging at him with a samurai sword. The officer was wounded but still he mustered the will to stumble to Malvolio, sword arched behind his back and ready to slice down. The officer was intent on Malvolio’s thick neck, particularly the jugular. If he hit him right

  the sword would cut the spine as well and the evil man would be dead before his body hit the ground.

  But the soldier never got that far. Malvolio thrust his hand forward and the officer froze in mid-stride, hanging with both feet in the air, as if he were a statue or a life-size toy soldier.

  Malvolio walked to the petrified warrior, who tracked Malvolio with only his eyes. Malvolio touched the blade of the sword, admiring its sharpness.

  “Very good. You’ll make an excellent minion.”

  Brenenthal leapt to his feet and pointed the nozzle of the flame thrower at Malvolio. Thankfully, he saw that the pilot flame was on. Squeezing down on the trigger, Brenenthal felt a back-blast of heat as the liquid flame poured from the nozzle onto Malvolio and the Japanese officer.

  Brenenthal could hear screams as neither body moved as he coated them with fire. He continued on spraying the two, yet neither moved. Peering through the flame, he saw that the fire was flowing around Malvolio like a water current around a stone. But he could also see that the Japanese soldier had no such immunity, yet could not move from Malvolio’s entombment. It was his screams filling the air, but that soon stopped.

  Brenenthal released the trigger. Malvolio stood before him unscathed, staring. Behind him the burnt corpse of the Japanese officer stood in mid-air, the samurai sword above him still in tact, but the muscle and flesh holding it burnt greasy and smoking. With a flick of his hand, Malvolio released the corpse to fall to the ground with a sickening thump, the flesh breaking apart like so much overcooked meat.

  Malvolio glanced at the smoldering corpse and shook his head. “Pity. He would have been a nice conscript.”

  Malvolio then turned his attention the Brenenthal.

  “You did an excellent job of being stealthy, Captain, but I’m afraid your fire-breathing machine can do me no harm.”

  Brenenthal was petrified from fear. Willing himself, he clamped down on the trigger once again as Malvolio walked toward him. Once again the flame danced around Malvolio, this time, as he moved towards Brenenthal, it behaved like water pushing away from the bow of a mighty ship.

  A distant roar grew louder as the soldiers around him rose to attack, firing every weapon they had, but nothing could penetrate his energy shield. Bullet slugs bounced off the shield or simply got stuck and fell to the ground. A grenade rolled to Malvolio’s feet and he picked it up, admiring it. It detonated in his hand, sending him back a bit startled, but the explosion and shrapnel had no effect—his energy shield was too potent.

  The men were exposed now, instinctively channeling all their killing energy at the man before them, unaware of the exposure, uncaring for themselves. Eveiy one of them knew that they needed to stop this power before them and eveiy one of the soldiers did everything they could to do so.

  Malvolio watched them as they tried futilely to kill him. He nodded in approval.

  “Good... good! You’ve giving an excellent audition!”

  Malvolio spread his arm. The shield of energy protecting him spread like liquid, wrapping the thirty soldiers, sealing them so that they became immovable, frozen in action. Fingers could no longer pull triggers, heads could not turn. One soldier, about to throw a grenade, found that he could not move, the grenade in one hand and the pin in the other. The grenade exploded, shearing off his head and arm in an instant, yet the rest of his body stayed in place, held by Malvolio’s energy.

  That explosion was the last sound anyone made. Malvolio strolled among the soldiers as if he were in a sculpture garden. He stepped over corpses, dropped weapons, wounded men writhing in pain. He stood before them.

  “Yes. You’ll do.”

  Then he walked to Brenenthal. Brenenthal could feel the flamethrower canisters lifting away from his back and the nozzle being taken from his hands but he could not see what Malvolio was doing with him or where he was going.

  The coolness of the cave was soothing. Malvolio stood before the massive wooden chest, holding the flamethrower.

  “I stand before you with the key.”

  Malvolio pointed the nozzle of the flamethrower and squeezed the trigger. Flame spewed from it, engulfing the chest. It began to bum fiercely in the coating of fire.

  He could see the wood weakening.

  The beach resistance had slackened off—the Japanese had moved toward the foot of the volcano, into coconut log bunkers and caves blasted from volcanic rock. They readied themselves to exact as much of a toll in human pain that they could before the Americans overwhelmed them.

  The Marines on the beach ran forward bent low, making an effort to present a harder target to the snipers harassing them. But even through the snipers and the occasional mortar round impacting on the beach, the Marines were beginning the next phase of the invasion: bringing in men and materiel to make the beach a fortress, an anvil of might that would prevent any counter-attack that would throw them back into the sea.

  Green Lantern moved against this surging tide of Marines, halfcarrying Paul, who had his arm around Scott’s neck. Green Lantern helped his dazed friend to an aid station at the edge of the jungle and sat him down amidst other wounded and dying men.

  He crouched down and looked Paul in the eyes. “You’ll be safe here—I’ve got to go back.”

  Paul reached to grab his savior, but Green Lantern gently pulled his hand off his sleeve and went back to the war. He made his way past the milling troops, men carrying boxes instead of rifles. He spotted the man he was looking for and made a bee-line toward him.

  Corporal Tills considered himself a patriot, but he didn’t want to be in this war, and certainly not with the Marines, who seemed as thirsty for their own blood to spill as the enemy’s. He joined up with his MIT classmates in a spasm of patriotic fervor. He had wanted to kill Japanese, and the Marines were the likeliest outfit to accomplish this.

  But because of his training in theoretical physics, someone much less intelligent than him decided to make him a radio operator, which for Tills meant being in harm’s way all the time, and with an outstanding target strapped to his back. Next to an officer, the radioman was a favorite target of snipers. He had been through actions all over the South Pacific, and he had yet to fire a shot in anger.

  He lay as low as he could in a shell hole, faming at his fate and tiying to ignore the dead Marine lying nearby. He had seen many Japanese corpses, but something about seeing a fellow Marine lifeless-shot, drowned or blown apart-was too much, too close to permanently shattering what was left of his youthful misconception that everyone else in a war is susceptible to death but not him.

  Just before they boarded the LST he’d heard that a fellow fraternity brother had been killed by a sniper. He could barely picture his face, but just the knowledge that they had shared the same experiences—attended the same fraternity mixers, walked the same campus paths, struggled through similar class work, cheered at the same bal
l games-made him pressingly aware that out here death cares nothing about your social standing, allegiances, intelligence or philosophies. Out here, clean living was a pain in the ass, and heroism was a very bad joke. These thoughts cycled endlessly through Tills’ fevered mind as he lay waiting for the battle to end for him one way or another.

  Tills felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see the Green Lantern, an expression of great intent on his face. To Tills, the sight of the super-hero looked like nothing but trouble for him.

  “Soldier, I need you to bring that radio with me.”

  “Where, sir?”

  The man in the cape and mask gestured inland. “Up there.”

  Tills glanced up to the thick jungle encroaching the beach.

  “Is that really necessary, sir?” Tills asked.

  “Soldier, none of this is really necessary, but as long as we’re here we might as well make the effort. What’s the problem?”

  “Sir, my brother just died on this beach.”

  “Your brother?”

  “My fraternity brother.”

  The Green Lantern stared at Tills. “What’s your name?”

  “Tills, sir.”

  “Tills, what are the odds of two fraternity brothers getting killed in the same action? You’re good with numbers, right? Think about it. But while you’re doing so, move your ass.”

  For Tills, what Green Lantern had said was like a dawning sun to the darkness of his thoughts.

  “Good lord, sir, I think you’re right... ”

  “Don’t think about it —just believe it.”

  Tills smiled at the idea. “I can’t get killed. I can’t!”

  Tills thought about it, and the more he did the more sense it made to him. He found himself on his feet and following the masked hero through the gunfire to the jungle. And at each step, he felt more invincible. What were the odds? Tills thought he knew and he liked them.

  Tills followed Green Lantern down the path, snipers’ bullets kicking at his heels. He didn’t care—he was in his own movie now, made possible by the death of dear old what’s-his-name, who hedged enough to allow him this moment.

  Green Lantern and Tills came to the edge of the camp. They could see soldiers lined at attention. Remarkably, they saw that the soldiers were both American and Japanese. Something in the way they were standing showed them that something was wrong. In the peaceful

  stillness of the clearing, the men stood in rank, prisoners of their own bodies.

  There was no sign of Malvolio.

  Tills tugged Green Lantern’s sleeve, “What’s going on, sir? Did they call some kind of truce?”

  “They’re prisoners of a greater enemy, Tills. Be ready to contact fleet for a fire mission.”

  “Where?”

  “Here. On those men. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” Scott raised his binoculars to look at the men. He recognized some as the Marines from the first wave. The Japanese soldiers looked haggard but still fit. Where they stood, the Green Lantern could see discarded weapons at their feet, near the wounded and fresh dead from their melee.

  He focused on the faces of the men—their expressions were neutral, yet he could see great fear and animal confusion in their eyes. As he scanned along the row of men, he saw that some were frail—American POWs. Among them was Captain Brenenthal-stand-ing at full attention, his uniform ripped and bloody. He appeared to be incapable of moving: trapped in his own body. The Green Lantern could see Brenenthal’s eyes searching desperately for help.

  Tills was startled as the Green Lantern jumped to his feet and was about to run into the clearing. He got to his feet as well, ready to follow, when they were both thrown back by a roar of fire that belched from the opening of the cave. The flames shot from the cave mouth again, long and sustained, black soot and smoke curling from the orange fire. The fire went on for a long time, then just as suddenly stopped.

  The Lantern and Tills stood, watching. Coming to his senses, Green Lantern pulled Tills back down into the brush.

  Malvolio walked from the smoking cave, smiling triumphantly. Green Lantern saw that Malvolio was carrying a large, burning box. He turned to the radio operator. “Get me fleet, Tills. Now.”

  “But those men, sir—they’re Marines and POWs.”

  Scott hesitated and turned to look at the men in the clearing. He could see Brenenthal clearly, his eyes large in his petrified face. “Give me that handset, Tills.”

  Malvolio threw the smoldering box on the ground in front of the line of soldiers. Kicking open the half-burned wood, Malvolio reached in and pulled out a handful of Sleeper rings, still glowing hot from being blasted by the flamethrower. The box held hundreds of them.

  Malvolio threw the rings into the air, where they froze. Malvolio willed them into a line that matched the soldiers before him, until each man had a ring floating before him.

  Green Lantern waited. He had memorized the coordinates, and they were ready for his call. The general had seen to that.

  Tills broke into the frequency the Lantern had given them. Pryne and the general were standing by on the Eldorado.

  Green Lantern read the coordinates from the map to Tills, who relayed the fire data over the radio. The Lantern grabbed Tills’ arm and said in a whisper, “Tell them to hit it with everything.”

  On the Eldorado, Pryne passed the coordinates to the general to read. The general handed it back, and said, “Throw everything we’ve got at them.”

  The soldiers, frozen in the green energy, felt themselves moving. Malvolio had control of their bodies, and he moved them like chess pieces, arranging them in ranks. The men found themselves at attention, lined and stock straight. Oddly, each had his hand held forward at the waist, palm down.

  Malvolio walked down the ranks of the thirty-odd men, admiring them. He turned at the head of them, and their heads swiveled to face him, although they couldn’t control this.

  “You’ve proven your fierceness in battle. You are ready for the highest honor. To serve under me and become the core of a mighty army. You will help grow my forces and I will lead you to triumph, to greatness and eternal glory.”

  Then Malvolio moved down the ranks, and stopped before each man, Japanese and American, and placed a ring on each man’s finger. Bewildered, the men’s eyes searched for a hint of their fate.

  Malvolio walked to the head of the two columns and raised his hand. From his ring came the energy that moved out in viscous path through the air, towards each man's ring.

  Every ring began to glow, and the men’s eyes grew wide as they felt the power surging through them. They could feel the power making them stronger, denser, more massive. Although they physically appeared the same, the muscle took on the density of steel battleship armor, and their skin was as coarse and hard as granite.

  The confusion and fear that occupied them was pushed out by single-minded, pure will: the singular desire to express themselves in violence against any and all humans. They were happy now, because they felt the plan and the means to accomplish it. It would be the same purpose that a shark has, or a praying mantis. Morality ceased to exist for them. They were now human killing machines in the purest way.

  This was Malvolio’s gift to them. It was his greatest pleasure and the state he had striven for since avenging his mother. These men were his family now, and as he enabled the first of his Sleeper soldiers with his power, he told them so.

  The Lantern watched Malvolio speaking to the men, and muttered, “Good. Stay long-winded, you pompous nut.”

  Malvolio continued to speak. He gestured, and the glowing rings slowly slid in unison onto the outstretched fingers of the soldiers. Green Lantern could see that the metal was burning their flesh. He could see the agony in the men’s eyes, yet they remained stock-still.

  Then Malvolio put his hands in the air, and green energy poured forth from his ring, tendrils of energy moving like smoke towards each man’s ring.

  The Green Lantern swallowed. “C’mon... ”
r />   The tendrils touched each ring, causing them to glow faintly.

  The muzzle blasts from the enormous 16-inch guns of the battleship were capable of bursting a man’s eardrums. Firing in quick succession, the guns created an unbelievable thunder of man-made destruction. The shells moved through the sky with the rumble of a freight-train, making the men on the beach stop their work and listen as the huge rounds arced over them, thankful that they weren’t the intended target.

  The ominous moaning of the first rounds from the battleships’ guns were approaching the camp. Malvolio laughed richly.

  Green Lantern and Tills threw themselves to the ground as the first shells came pounding in. Green Lantern used his power to form a dome over the two of them. The slap of concussion was terrifying, and the roar of one shell after another drowned any other sound out. The impact of the shells on the ground bounced Green Lantern and Tills off the jungle floor. All thought became animal—pure survival and the clear, fervent wish to have it all end.

  Round after round of the huge shells slammed into the area, annihilating the huts, the cave mouth, volcanic rock disintegrating, sending tiny pieces flying like millions of tiny knives. As the ground was churned by the explosions, enormous trees went flying like straw in a storm. Minutes passed as round after round slammed into the area.

  The navy was accurate. When Tills and Green Lantern pulled themselves out from under the debris, the clearing was unrecognizable from what it had been just minutes ago. The ground was churned, and huge craters littered the area, the foliage blasted and scattered from the man-made typhoon. The huts were either flattened or simply blasted to kindling.

  Small secondary fires burned, adding to the dust and haze from the bombing. As it all cleared, Green Lantern and Tills saw that the men that were standing before them were still there, in the same position.

  Tills was stunned by the sight. “It’s not possible—they couldn’t have just stood there through that.”