Aegis Desolation: Action-Adventure Apocalyptic Mystery Thriller (Aegis League Series Book 4)

by S. S. Segran

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that in the months to come,” Reyor said. “What was that about?”

  “I got Ekene from Admin to send me the live feed from the trackers we put in the other four. It also gives me an update every hour, which is what that was.” He faltered. “I, uh, hope that’s okay.”

  In truth, Reyor was bemused, and grudgingly impressed by his initiative. “Run it by me next time. Did Ekene input your name on the list of those who have access to that information?”

  “Yes.” Jag’s device beeped again. “Huh, looks like some of the SONEs from the Vanguard want me to join them for lunch. Do you need me to—”

  “No. Go. You will be leading them soon. Best for all of you to know each other better.”

  Jag dipped his head and took his leave. Reyor watched him disappear, some of her anxiety departing with him. He has the potential to be a truly formidable weapon. With the additional training he’s being given and with me at the helm, and if his friends are repurposed correctly, then choosing to tread this new path as allies might be my greatest idea yet.

  She turned back to the cryogenic pod where Mokun rested peacefully in his death. As for you, Mentor . . . For millennia you walked the planet to help humanity find its way. You have seen things and experienced events no one alive today could justly fathom. You embraced me and allowed me to expand your plan. And then you wavered. Twice now I’ve had to use the forbidden root from Boro-Ki to readjust course. There is nothing more you can do but watch over me. I will stay committed to finishing your—our—vision. That, I promise you.

  Colback! Answer me, damn it!

  Victor’s voice, slightly jumbled and bone-weary, came through. Don’t yell.

  Marshall released a massive breath, gave Nadia an OK sign, and disembarked from the plane. You went black. I’ve been looking all over the novasphere for you until you showed up again. What happened?

  Last thing I remember was trying to get back to Valencia. Some of the locals apparently found me passed out on the road in the middle of the city. They’ve been tending to me.

  Passed out? Did you get hurt in the fight?

  Victor grunted. I’m alive, so it’s fine.

  Marshall bit back an exasperated reply and gave his surroundings a sweeping inspection. There was a splatter of dried blood by a wrecked truck. I’m at the airport, on the tarmac. This your ride?

  Yeah.

  And the blood?

  Also mine. The kids were only tranquilized.

  Marshall tried to imagine what must have happened, his insides twisting at the thought that Reyor now had all five of the Chosen Ones. Where were they? What had happened to them? Were they even alive?

  Nadia trudged around the plane, their new backpacks in hand, and patted the aircraft’s nose. Fatigue had carved its mark on her face, her cherry-red hair was dirty and tangled, and her dusky skin and clothes were begrimed. Marshall was certain he looked equally haggard. He admired the way Nadia had relentlessly pushed on after a few hours’ rest in Vietnam, determined to get to Victor.

  When they’d received his message a day and a half ago, they had already landed in Ho Chi Minh City and passed the queen and the massive woven basket with its food supply to Lei, who’d arrived in a government aircraft. She had helped them secure a long-range amphibious plane: a Beriev Be-12, also known Chayka, or Seagull. The reliable maritime workhorse, introduced in the sixties, was one of a handful owned by the Vietnam People’s Air Force.

  Now, as the sun began its descent on the horizon, a pall of fiery hues infusing the Spanish city, the two of them picked their way out of the airport and took a road leading to the city.

  “It’s so quiet here,” Nadia said. “Did Phoenix really clear this place out just to make it easier for the Chosen Ones?”

  “It’s likely. Would have been nice if they’d done it earlier so Valencia wouldn’t be bathed in blood.”

  Most of the corpses had been removed by the few remaining residents, some of whom were now working to scrub away the stains left behind on the streets and exterior walls. Earlier, as Nadia brought them in for landing, Marshall had gotten a broad view of the city from above. Dead vehicles were gradually being cleared from the streets. Citizens had raided local authorities’ armories and formed into groups to keep watch for trouble from the rooftops.

  Marshall and Nadia waved up at one team as they passed, and the group waved back, wearing grim smiles of defiance at the hell that had been unleashed.

  “Disculpe!” A young girl scampered out from a building to intercept the Sentries. Her black hair was chopped at the chin, her olive utility jacket tattered. “Disculpe! You are looking for Victor?”

  “Yes,” Marshall called. “Is he with you?”

  The girl motioned for them to follow. “Come!”

  They entered a restaurant, its interior completely upended—tables were overturned, chairs wrecked, expensive tablecloths ripped and sullied, glass shards everywhere. A path had been cleared toward the rear of the building. The girl led them past a sturdy door that had been left ajar and into a dry-storage room. Inside, the only light came from a few battery-powered lamps. Victor reclined against a wall as he lay on the floor, an older woman seated beside him. Both of them chuckled at something that was said, smoke twisting up from their cigarettes. When she saw the newcomers, the woman pushed back the stray curls from her gray bun and invited them over in broken English.

  When Victor’s gaze landed on Nadia, he grimaced. “Hello, Ms. Dekker.”

  She grinned. “Hello, Mr. Colback. Long time no see.”

  “Hrm. Don’t worry, I’m not about to unload my personal crap onto you again.”

  She sank to the ground beside him and patted his arm. “It’s okay if you do. What happened?”

  The mirth Victor had shared with the old woman slid from his face. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag so long that Marshall felt the pain in his own lungs. As he blew out smoke, Victor began to relate what had transpired. The dispassion of his monotone delivery was punctuated by weighted pauses as he coughed, which became more frequent as he got closer to the end of the account. Finally, he held up the cigarette and glared at it. “Would be nice if these things weren’t so disgusting. I’m gonna step out for a bit.”

  He took the old woman’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and pushed himself up with great effort, waving away any help she and the Sentries offered. As Victor limped out, Marshall swapped uncertain looks with Nadia before following him out to emerge under a twilight sky.

  Victor was throwing the stub into a public trash can before lighting another. Marshall stood upwind of the smoke. “So much for kicking the habit, huh?”

  “Didn’t realize I was asking for a lecture.”

  “Not lecturing. Losing the kids hit us all hard, and it’s especially painful for you since you were the one tasked to watch over them. Do what you have to do to take the edge off.”

  Victor pulled another drag, then looked at Marshall out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve really never tried one?”

  “Nah. Mom was the smoker in the family till throat cancer got her.”

  The cigarette, on its way back to Victor’s mouth, was promptly pinched out and returned to the pack.

  “I didn’t say that to stop you.”

  Victor fiddled with the collar of his utility jacket. “Doña Paloma was nice enough to share her stash, but if I’m being honest, my body isn’t favoring the stuff the way it used to.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a pigsty. Get yourself cleaned up. There’s a makeshift bath with boiled water in the kitchen.”

  Marshall sighed. “That sounds nice. It’s been a long few days.”

  They let their gazes drift out to the two-way roads, taking in the palm trees and a plot of land beyond them that hosted a garden. A couple of locals were taking a break from clearing the city, leaning on useless lampposts and conversing wearily. One of them enfolded the other in a hug, swaying s
lowly, and they held onto each other for a long while.

  “Have the Elders said anything about what our next move should be?” Victor asked.

  “Not really. They’re at a loss too, though there’s even more urgency now in locating the Heart. That compass you mentioned earlier—”

  “Tegan was the last one holding it. I checked the truck and all their bags, but it wasn’t there.” The last traces of light faded; in its place the glow of fires warmed the city, driving away some of the shadows. Victor shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So this is life now.”

  “Seems like.” Marshall grinned wryly. “I don’t think the magnitude of it has properly hit me yet.”

  “You and me both.”

  A shrill tone disrupted their fatigued exchange, clear and indelicate, not unlike the metal whistles Marshall had heard so many times during his Marine training. The tone sounded three times, paused, then sounded again, continuing its pattern without stopping.

  Marshall tried to locate the source. “What’s that about?”

  The girl who’d found him and Nadia earlier came bounding toward them, hysterically waving the men back into the restaurant. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for them to join her behind the opaque plastic sheet that had been strung up in front of the broken windows facing the street. The Sentries crouched beside her. Nadia appeared at Marshall’s shoulder, and all four of them peered below the fluttering tarp.

  Hideously familiar abominations descended from the firmament, gliding toward the city on silent wings. Nadia’s fingers clenched into the ground, and Marshall had to stop his own from curling. The raw umber of the creatures’ skin, pulled tight over their bodies, was awash with the murk of dusk. Their sickle-like jaws opened sideways every now and then as they passed between buildings, clicking at intervals.

  Nadia pressed up against Marshall’s consciousness. That sounds a bit like the bats back home, she said once he opened up. Maybe these things use echolocation to find people?

  I think I remember reading something about that on Bertrand’s laptop, he said. They can sense body heat as well. There was also a lot about the stinger at the end of their tail.

  Paloma and her granddaughter mentioned that the people have teams in place to keep an eye out around the clock. Everyone goes into hiding the moment they hear the whistle because they haven’t been able to fight these things off. They’re too fast in the air.

  Marshall tracked one of the creatures as is swooped over the buildings across the road and out of sight. To think, these things are all over the world along with the Scourgers. I hope Lei’s contact can find the off button on the queen, otherwise, short of setting the skies on fire, there might not be a way to defeat them.

  A hand touched the small of Marshall’s back. The old woman had his shirt fisted in one hand and Victor’s jacket in another, giving both of them sharp tugs. Taking the hint, all three Sentries picked themselves up with painstaking care and, avoiding anything on the messy floor that would make a sound, treaded their way back into the dry-storage where they sat for another hour until they heard two long whistles.

  “Hm.” Paloma’s grizzled face wrinkled in surprise. “Not so long this time.”

  “Doña, how often do they come?” Victor asked.

  “Not . . . not very . . .” She made frustrated hand gestures and looked helplessly to her granddaughter.

  “They come after hell monsters,” said the girl. “We thought they gone, but they come back next night. We don’t know, um . . . schedule. Tonight is first time since monsters left that they come.”

  Victor pressed his thumb between his eyebrows. “So we don’t have any kind of reliable pattern to go on. That’s going to make moving around a huge pain. But when the kids and I were driving toward Gibraltar, we didn’t see these things for the entire two days. At least, not until we got out onto the bay.”

  “Sounds like you were lucky,” Marshall said.

  A derisive sound rolled from the back of Victor’s throat. “Right.” He dropped his hand. In the most defeated tone Marshall had ever heard, he muttered, “Does any of this feel real?”

  Paloma cupped his chin and raised it. “Food. Sleep. You are very weak, very tired.” With her free hand, she wagged a finger at Marshall and Nadia. “Smelly. Catalina!”

  “Sí, abuelita.” The girl scampered over to the door, waiting expectantly. Marshall and Nadia, not wishing to argue with the elder of their hosts, went with her.

  Nadia hooked her arm through his, using him to remain upright. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, and the sight of her stumbling over her own shoes put Marshall into a protective posture.

  “Stay awake a little longer,” he told her softly. “Then you can knock out properly. You deserve it the most.”

  Her head fell onto his shoulder. “I’m trying. But, Marshall, where do we go from here?”

  “I’m not sure.” He hated his answer, but that was all he had. “I’m really not sure.”

  Kody was fried.

  How long had it been since they’d started their assault, attempting to loosen his bolts and crowbar the floorboards of his mind? They’d blitzed his walls, bombarded his defenses, flayed his willpower raw.

  But still, with his spirit bruised and on its knees, he resisted. Out of seething defiance. Out of chest-clenching terror. He would not lose himself, not again.

  What had become of his friends? On the minimal occasions Reyor’s goons let him out to relieve himself, he could hear nothing from behind the walls. Most likely they were sedated while the scientists worked on them, like he constantly was.

  The door across from him swung open. Jag strode in, wearing the same uniform as before, his hair parted to the side.

  “You look like a Muppet,” was all Kody could utter through his lethargy.

  Jag pulled up a chair beside him, laughing quietly. “Don’t ever change, Kode-man.”

  “Sorta out of my hands at this point, isn’t it?”

  “There’s a difference between pointless change and a metamorphosis.”

  “Whew. What kinda nonsense are they feeding you in the cafeteria?”

  Jag rolled up one of his sleeves and tapped a thin display on his wrist. The high-definition screen above Kody’s head went from a peaceful sky to a wide-angle view of what appeared to be a training ground. Dozens of teenagers in garb similar to Jag’s ran drills, barked orders, and sparred.

  An unpleasant tingle snaked under Kody’s skin. “You know,” he croaked, “I’m a military brat. I stand with the folks in uniform. But this ain’t it.”

  “They’re training,” Jag said. “When we return to the world, they’ll be the law-and-order unit. We call them the Vanguard. I’ll be leading them.”

  “Come on, Jag. There’s no way they broke you, not with that stubborn head of yours. If you’re playing the long game, blink twice.”

  Jag’s eyes remained open. “Honestly, I should have given in sooner. You need to do that too. Don’t waste their time. The sooner you stop fighting it, the sooner we can all be together again, on the same page, doing what we were meant to do.”

  “Do me a favor—come closer so I can smack some sense into you.”

  Jag stretched back in his chair, legs splayed out. “No wonder we’re all friends. You guys are just as difficult as I was.”

  “So the others are still fighting, then. Good.”

  “Please just make it easier for everyone.”

  Kody snorted. “Buddy, I love you, but screw you.”

  Jag rose to his feet. “Since you want to do it this way . . .” He retrieved the wheelchair from the corner of the room.

  “We goin’ on a field trip?”

  “Something like that.” Jag undid Kody’s bindings and slid him into the wheelchair, fastening him securely to it, then pushed him out of the room and down a long hallway. “All I want is what’s best for us. You’ll see it clearly soon.”

  They passed several doors. Arriving at the last one, Jag swipe
d a card through a scanner and the device quietly beeped. “The lighting’s dim, so give it a few moments. You ready?”

  Kody eyed the door. “What is this place? Why are we here? What are you gonna do?”

  “Shh, shh. Let’s go. Keep your voice down.”

  Jag wheeled him into a low-lit room, letting the door shut silently behind them. Kody’s vision adjusted a few moments later. On three single beds, side-by-side, lay his friends. They looked to be fast asleep with tubes hooking them to nutritional packs. Above each of them was a holographic display of a pale pink, life-sized brain.

  Kody’s mouth worked uselessly. “What . . .”

  “You outlasted us all, Kode-man,” Jag said. “We gave in by the end of day three. Welcome to day four. You’re the last one standing.”

  The room tilted and the floor fell away. Kody stuttered. “No . . . no, that’s not—”

  “After a successful breach, we’re put into stasis for a bit, to let the mind heal after the bruising. Sort of like working out and giving your body time to recover after. See the front of the brain, right there? Soon, it’ll start to change color. When that area—the prefrontal cortex—is completely blue, they’ll be woken up ready for their new roles.”

  It was as if Kody was seeing everything from outside of his body. How could this be happening? How was he the only one who remained?

  This is a trick. They just want to break me. He looked up at Jag, who observed their friends with a softened gaze, arms crossed. No. There’s no way this is real.

  “It really is just you now,” Jag murmured. He glanced down, a smile curving the side of his mouth. “Reyor would probably congratulate you if she were here, though she wouldn’t be happy about it. Dr. Nate might look at this as a challenge and tweak his methods to get quicker results. He’s pretty obsessive, from what I’ve heard. Anyway, now that you’ve seen this, let’s get you back to your CUBE so you can finally let go. In a couple of days, we’ll all be ready to lead our echelons. Together.”

  As Jag carted him out of the room and up the corridor, the fatigue that had claimed Kody constricted its hold. He still couldn’t process what he’d seen but despair settled firmly inside him, taking root and pushing out tendrils, causing aches to pulse everywhere in his body.