Heart of Annihilation

by C. R. Asay

  I blinked at the face of the frightened Rethan, his mouth a grimace of fear. A good ten or eleven Rethans still needed to make it through the portal. They wouldn’t all survive at this rate. To emphasize the point, the portal flickered and went out with a distinct hum.

  Don’t bother, said the voice.

  With stumbling fingers I pulled the coin from my pocket, rubbing my thumb across the letters. Rannen said it was a catapult that would open a portal through to Retha. Would we all be sucked through? Would there be other Rethans who could help fight off the commander? Would Dad be there?

  Will you cry like an infant if you see him?

  I closed my eyes to block out the voice, and searched through my mind and body for the energy the coin needed. A certain type of voltage, Rannen said. A certain type. Different from what I had used on the portal. Different from anything I’d used before.

  I felt it. Like an element hidden within the energy from the storm. As though we were finally speaking the same language, the coin between my fingers called to it and drew it from my body.

  The coin flew from my hand with a deafening zap. I wrenched my eyes open as a jolt of electricity exploded from the coin and shot toward the sky. The electricity grew and expanded, almost directly in front of the other portal. The new portal solidified into a perfect circle, taller and wider than what was left of the scrapped-together version. But unlike the portal on the tower, there was nothing to see on the other side. Just blackness, like a void. No weapon-wielding Rethans. No Dad.

  I collapsed onto my side, my body an exhausted, empty shell. A bitter taste filled my mouth.

  Officiate Lafe appeared beside me. Her eyes and mouth were wide as she stared at the newest portal hovering before us. She recovered in an instant and gestured the last of the Rethans forward.

  “Into the portal now, everyone!”

  Rethans leapt through the circle of lightning one at a time and vanished on the other side. A tentative touch on my shoulder startled me. I knocked the hand away before looking up. The older Rethan who’d reminded me of my dad recoiled a step.

  “Are you all right?” He held out a hand to me. “Can I?”

  With hate exploding around us, the innocent helping hand seemed like a foreign object. He must have sensed my trepidation because his fingers curled over his palm.

  “Th-thanks,” I said, lifting my muddy hand for help.

  His hand felt brittle, the translucent skin papery thin. He helped me to my feet and assisted me the few yards to a safer spot behind a crate, not far from the tower. I collapsed and rolled onto my side.

  Here, in a subconscious realm of thought, things were so simple. There was nothing I could do, so I would do nothing.

  Get up! the voice shrieked. Don’t just lay there. Go through the portal before you get us killed!

  My head ached so badly I almost moved to get away from it. Rain hammered my face, a not-so-gentle reminder that I was still alive, if only just.

  “Miss?”

  Only two Rethans remained. Officiate Lafe and the one kneeling in front of me, a syringe held between two fingers. The older Rethan patted my face. “Miss? Would you like help with this? I can if you want me to. I don’t think you’re going to last much longer if—”

  I blinked at him, trying to speak.

  “Please, I’ve got to go.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the portal where Officiate Lafe was beckoning to him, her expression incensed. “You did us a big favor here, and another personal favor for me years ago. I want to help you, if I can. A story to tell my grandbabies, how the DCC Slayer saved—”

  An explosion rattled the crate at my back. The Rethan ducked, cowering next to my leg.

  “Do you want the injection, miss?” He was breathless.

  “Rose.” Such a small word and yet so important.

  “What?”

  “M-my name is Rose. Kris Rose.”

  “Oh, okay. Um, Rose.” He nodded, seeming to understand.

  I nodded back and closed my eyes.

  There was a soft touch to my chest, a stab, and then agony burst through my heart. My limbs stiffened in a torturous spasm. Vivid splashes of colors, emotions, thoughts, memories—

  Dad tossing me a dinner roll from across the table, two already on his plate . . . the chow line overrun by a group of overambitious lieutenants . . . Xander’s head thrown back, laughing at his nephew’s childish joke . . . irritation turning to worry that Dad wasn’t home yet from police work . . . annoyance that Drill Sergeant Williams wouldn’t let the smudge on my uniform go . . . the Rethan drones’ contented smiles, like a lifetime of brainwashing could actually have made them happy.

  I gasped and pried my eyes open. Energy pulsed through my body in such strong increments that I couldn’t bear to sit still.

  My eyes lingered on the portal for a second. The elderly Rethan was gone. Only Officiate Lafe was left. Why hadn’t she gone through yet? I pulled the rifle’s strap over my head so I could hold it better and dragged myself through the mud until I was beside her behind a barricade of crates. She didn’t even glance at me.

  A grenade exploded inside the circle of buildings. We ducked toward one another. Mud burst outward. When it settled I rested the barrel of the rifle on the crate, sighting down the length with my finger on the trigger. My pulse pounded in my shoulder. I watched for movement.

  A particularly brilliant flash of lightning illuminated a camo-clad figure racing past building twelve. I lined him in my sites before I recognized Thurmond. In one bound he disappeared behind a barricade of crates.

  The firing stopped. An oppressive silence pressed on the camp. The pinging of the rain on the roofs of the buildings, the watery splashes in the puddles made the uncanny hush downright frightening.

  Where were they?

  A dark figure materialized next to Thurmond’s position. The white patch on the nose identified Luginbeel. A limping figure appeared a building over, had to be Sanderford.

  The way Luginbeel strutted in, his rifle weaving back and forth for a target, was so primetime SWAT I would have shot him myself if I’d thought he was worth my round. But this was not the moment. Of that much I was sure. Luginbeel passed Thurmond’s location. Thurmond rose up from behind the crate, slashing out. His knife caught a flash of lightning and disappeared into Luginbeel’s shoulder. A boom of thunder muted the cry. Luginbeel disappeared into the muddied shadow of the building. Thurmond wrenched the rifle out of his grip, and it rose and fell twice against Luginbeel’s head.

  The officiate shifted beside me.

  “I need Deputies Boderick and Hoth, and Marshal Rannen.”

  That’s why she was still here. I couldn’t help feeling grudging admiration toward her. We hunched low as bullets pinged off the barricade, some zipping through the openings between crates or spraying up small funnels of mud. Rifle fire answered from Thurmond’s location thanks to Luginbeel’s stolen rifle.

  “Where are they?” The officiate hissed.

  The militaristic bulk of two Humvees roared from between buildings. One slowed to a stop twenty feet from us. The headlights beamed blinding eyes on our location.

  Thurmond sent bullets pelting into one side of the Humvee. The passenger door of the Hummer was thrown open. A red-haired figure rolled out and scrambled for cover behind the back tires. Justet lined up nicely in my sites, and I wished I could have stitched my initials in his scrawny rump. He seemed to decide Sanderford’s location was his best shot, and he high stepped away. Bullets from Thurmond’s rifle threw up mud at his heels.

  “Attikin’s ass! I need those three now!” Officiate Lafe pushed me to the side and peeked between the crates.

  “You should go, Officiate Lafe,” I said. She snapped me a look. I held her gaze. “I’ll hold this position until they get here.” I wished I had anywhere near the confidence in myself I was trying to express.

  She turned away, glaring between the crates, and suddenly her mouth fell open in a formulaic, shocked expression. Slowl
y she stood, a hand going to her gaping mouth.

  “What are you doing?” I tugged at her pant leg. “Get down!”

  My brief glimpse between the crates showed a single figure standing within the circle of buildings. The commander’s tall, angular body and stern-cut hair was instantly recognizable.

  From behind her, Justet’s white hand launched a grenade toward us. The spoon disconnected from the top and flipped away. The automatic count started in my head. The grenade arched. One thousand. I dropped the rifle. Two thousand. I grabbed both the officiate’s legs and yelled, “get down,” trying to pull her behind the crates. Three thousand. No time. Four thousand. I buried my face next to my arm, curling my legs up to protect my abdomen.

  The grenade exploded on the other side of the crates. Thousands of bits of shrapnel tore into the crate, smashing it into me. I bounced once before coming to a stop, a crate resting on my back. Stinging, oozing warmth melted across my face. I touched a jagged gash on my hairline.

  I threw the crate off my back. My vision fuzzed. It took a moment to locate Officiate Lafe. She had been blasted against the crooked leg of the tower but was, unbelievably, still standing. The light from the portal lit her hair from behind. Her arms still shielded her face, but the fabric was shredded away. Shards of metal glistened in an enormous amount of red, very human-looking blood. Blood also flowed from gaping wounds in her chest and mingled with the rain. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, finding it so peculiar that a Rethan could be just like a human inside.

  Adrenaline in a tube was nothing like the natural adrenaline flowing through me now. I dashed water and blood from my eyes, rose onto my knees, and pulled up my rifle.

  Thurmond fired over and over again from the eastern end of the camp. The rest of the commander’s crew ducked out of sight. I pushed painfully to my feet, using Thurmond’s cover fire to get me over to the officiate.

  “Come on ma’am, you’ve got to go back to Retha!” I yelled, my hand going around her waist. With a painful wheeze, she locked her knees, refusing to move. Silent words fell from her lips.

  I didn’t have the strength to force her and took a knee, motioning with my rifle for Rannen and Hoth to come. Thurmond held back the soldiers with his cover fire. I didn’t see Boderick. Marshal Rannen ran at a crouch toward me with Hoth behind him, Rannen’s head moving side to side as he watched for a target. He had a Rethan weapon wrapped around his hand and fired blue electrical bolts toward the enemy to keep them down.

  Five, six, seven shots from Thurmond and silence descended again. Thurmond ejected the magazine, looked at it, and cast it aside. He wasn’t holding a Rethan weapon anymore either.

  Marshal Rannen passed the first Humvee, a mere twenty yards away. Hoth paused and rose from his crouch. What was he doing? Water dripped from his ponytail. His lips became a thin line. A Rethan weapon glimmered in his hand. He aimed at Rannen’s back, blinked, and squeezed the trigger.

  The bolt curled into Rannen, wrapping around his torso and throwing him forward onto his face into the mud. He didn’t move.

  “No!” The scream tore from my throat.

  I brought the rifle to my hip, forgetting everything else, and fired at Hoth. The trigger clicked the firing pin into place, but no bullet exploded from the end. I smashed my fist on the forward assist and fired again. Click.

  Hoth gave me a cursory glance and leaned over Rannen to touch his neck. Red, bleeding rage eclipsed any fear or pain.

  The commander stepped from the shadows. She made no attempt to crouch or hide. The corners of her mouth lifted in amusement. Her boots sloshed in the mud and water. Rain dripped from the brim of her hat. Lightning illuminated her face, leaving her eyes black holes of shadow. She eased a 9mm out of a drop-leg holster and tapped it against her thigh.

  Deputy Hoth rose from his examination of Rannen. He turned his head and opened his mouth to say something. In one fluid motion, the commander raised the pistol to his head and squeezed the trigger.

  My whole body jerked in revulsion. The crushing sound of Hoth’s collapsing body sent waves of nausea through me. My fingers numbed. The rifle dropped from my hands and splashed near my feet.

  “What are you doing?” Justet yelled. His dripping white face arrived at the commander’s shoulder. He couldn’t seem to look away from Hoth’s body. “I thought you said he was working for us?”

  “No loose ends.” The commander stepped over the corpse.

  “We just need to get the portal, right? We don’t actually have to kill them!” Justet’s voice reached a high note.

  The commander ignored him. Sergeant Sanderford and over a dozen other soldiers came out from behind the buildings. The rain, wind, and thunder beat a metronome against the weighty quiet.

  I spotted a glistening white object on the ground near one of the overturned crates and dropped to my knees. This wasn’t over. I rotated the Rethan weapon, trying to remember how Rannen held it. Egg thingy in palm. Snake thingy around wrist. Thumb on trigger. With a zinging sound, energy was drawn from my body into the weapon. Easy, peasy. I aimed at the commander . . . lemon squeezy . . . my thumb squeezed the trigger.

  A blue bolt zipped out, hitting Lieutenant Justet in the hip. He was thrown back with a yell and landed on his butt. His feet went up over his head, and he belly flopped into the mud. I adjusted my aim and squeezed the trigger again. It hit another soldier on his elbow and sent him spinning. Everyone else split.

  The commander alone stood her ground. I squeezed the trigger again. A spark fizzled from the muzzle. I pressed the trigger several more times, and then chucked the weapon at her. It only flew a few feet before landing with a squelch of finality. The commander raised the berretta and pointed it between Officiate Lafe and me.

  The last of my energy leaked quietly away. My legs weakened. I leaned against a crate. A whisper of words from behind and I finally understood what the officiate was saying.

  “My men first . . . my men first . . . my men first . . .”

  I thought about her simply stepping backward through the portal. Surely someone on the other side would be able to heal the shrapnel wounds with their highly advanced technology. She rubbed at the blood flowing from her abdomen as though if she brushed enough away it would clear the problem. Her eyes never left the commander.

  How Officiate Lafe remained standing so long was a mystery, but whatever it was suddenly deserted her. She dropped to her knees. The commander shifted the aim of her weapon to me.

  A revving motor shredded the night. Headlights bore down on me as one of the Hummers raced forward to cut me down. I only had time to cover my face with my arm.

  “Rose! Get out of the way! Get out of the—”

  A blur of Thurmonator sprinted past the commander just as a bullet exploded from the muzzle of her pistol.

  CHAPTER 22

  Blood sprayed from Thurmond’s head, misting my face. His body slammed into my chest. I landed on my back. Thurmond’s body was heavy and limp on top of me. All the air went out of my lungs. Jagged shards of pain ripped through my shoulder.

  With a gasp and a desperate grunt of effort, I rolled with Thurmond. The Hummer hurtled over the top of us, the front tires barely missing my face, and smashed into the tower. It jolted up on its front wheels where it balanced precariously long enough for me to throw Thurmond off my chest.

  With a groan of Kevlar on metal the Hummer dropped, the back wheel landing its crushing weight onto the back of my thigh. I cried out as my leg, chest, and the side of my face pressed deep into the sludge.

  I gave one weak effort to free myself and fell still. Mud seeped into my ear.

  The light from the dimensional catapult portal vanished, laying a blanket of darkness on the battlefield.

  The commander stood dimly in my line of sight, one hand rested on her hip, the other holding the pistol at her side. The rest of the camp was a smudge of movement behind her, unimportant worker ants scurrying to do the queen’s bidding.

  The Hummer door creaked
as it opened, and a pair of boots dropped down next to the vehicle. He limped toward the commander while offering me a smug glance. Sanderford’s thin, sandy hair was plastered to his head.

  In a quick, rough movement, the commander grabbed his collar and dragged him toward her. His expression changed to surprise in the second before only the back of his head was visible.

  “If you’ve damaged the portal, you’ll pay for it with more than your life.” She put her face right in his, snarling with such venom I felt as though my skin were crawling with spiders. “Now go get the others to help disassemble it.”

  The commander shoved him. He stumbled away from her, and disappeared from my line of sight.

  “Specialist Rose.” The commander approached with languid steps, like a dorsal fin gliding above bloody water. She crouched next to me. A long finger traced through the blood from the gash on my hairline and made a wide circle that ended on my chin. Then she touched the tip of my nose.

  “But it isn’t really ‘Specialist Rose’ is it?” She exhaled an almost nostalgic sigh. “It’s a pity you don’t remember anything. There was a time when your brilliance was infamous throughout the entirety of Retha, with a flashy title and everything. Now you are simply irrelevant.”

  She took my chin in her hand and pulled her face close to mine, looking at me with molten silver eyes.

  “There was a time when I thought I’d like to be the one to finish you, Caz. Pull the trigger or wield the knife. But then I realized I’m not you.”

  She pushed my head back into the mud. He finger hooked around the chain of my dog tags and she yanked them from my neck.

  “You kept the key.” She raised it to eye level and examined the pendant. “You had no idea what you had here, and yet you kept it. Fascinating.”

  She pulled something small from her pocket. Lightning flashed on a tiny, silver object not unlike a ball bearing. Holding my half-circle pendant between two fingers, she placed the silver BB next to it. With a zap it snapped together, and she released the pendant. The BB hung suspended, somehow, where the center of the half-circle should have been.