by C. R. Asay
“I see a huge mess created by my own very powerful self.” Half-truths were almost as good as full ones. The ache was starting up in my head again. “Not to mention how I nearly made your scrawny ass a permanently fried resident of the couch.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” The commander laughed. “Let the Slayer come out and play, Specialist Rose. There’re some things I’m dying to ask her.”
The pressure built. I panted for breath. I shook my head as much as in response to her request as trying to deny Caz total access to my mind.
“Fine.” The commander dropped her playful pretense and worked her way across the massacred room toward Thurmond and me in Rethan-quick strides. She grabbed a pistol from Sanderford’s hands. Thurmond retreated, using his shoulder to push me with him until my back hit a nearby column. The commander raised the pistol as she approached. Her aim was not at me but on Thurmond.
“Fine!” I shouted. “You’re right. Fine. Fine!” I tried to step around Thurmond. He jabbed me back with his elbow. “I’ll take you to your stupid Heart in—in exchange for the freedom of your prisoners.” I nodded in the direction of the stairwell where I’d last seen Rannen. He was still there, on his knees now, rifles pressed into his ribs. “Me and the Heart for them. That’s not such a bad deal.”
“Oh no, Caz. You see, I don’t trust you. I have the hostages. I have the weapons. I have the power. You tell me where I can find the Heart, and I won’t kill your friend right in front of your eyes. How’s that for a deal!”
“No! Take my deal. Take it. Take me! Take the damn deal!” I shoved Thurmond out of the way and put my face right in the commander’s.
Her lips lifted in a tight smile. She took a step back, which I mistook for retreat. A second later she was in my face, grinding the pistol into my bandaged shoulder. She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place.
“You destroyed me,” she whispered in my ear. I struggled, but she clamped her nails into my skin. She was so strong. “Back on Retha. You set me up to go down with you. But I’m not going to kill you. Oh no. I’m telling you right here and now Caz, that there is nothing more important to me than letting you live long enough to witness your precious Heart of Annihilation sold off to the highest bidder. Or maybe we’ll set it off somewhere. Retha? Would that bother you? How about Earth? You like this slag heap, right?”
She shoved me away. I staggered, but found my feet in time to watch Thurmond’s fist catch the commander on her jaw. Her head snapped to the side. Thurmond followed his first strike with a roundhouse kick to her gut that made her stumble but not fall. She righted herself in fast-forward. Her Rethan speed compensated for being caught off guard, and her pistol took Thurmond on the side of his face with a blinding crack. His head smacked against the nearest marble column and he slid to the floor. His eyes were wide but unfocused. Blood flowed from his mouth.
The commander was over to him in a single stride. She pressed the pistol against Thurmond’s forehead, her mouth a thin line.
“Don’t!” I gasped.
Her eyes bore into Thurmond rather than me.
“Tell me where I can find the Heart, Caz!”
“It’s here. Upstairs.” I couldn’t breathe.
“No it isn’t!” Corded muscles stood out on her arm like she was struggling not to pull the trigger. “I already told you. I would be able to feel an energy source of that magnitude. Where is it!”
“I-I-I . . .” The replica was a no-go and nothing else in my arsenal could save Thurmond’s life—except the truth.
“Caz!” the commander shouted.
“I can’t!” The realization struck me as I said the fatal words. How could I tell someone as unstable as this Rethan where to find a weapon of mass destruction, even if I did know where it was? The desire to scream clogged my throat. I lurched to her side, wanting to weep out my helplessness and screech out my rage—destroy the world myself rather than have to suffer any more loss because of my bull-headed obsession with finding the truth.
A memory scorched through my mind and drew me away from Xavier’s once elegant penthouse.
The bright blue of the sky, the hot wind scented with eucalyptus. My feet brushing through dry grass and then meeting the crunch of gravel. A building rising before me, long and low with dozens of white, scalloped arches. The entrance sitting below an old, southwestern triple bell tower.
Caz had committed this moment to memory long ago. I felt the rawness of her throat, the cold from the portal room still deep in her core, the warmth of the Heart of Annihilation tucked under her arm. Her mind rattled around in circles and then scattered before coming back to the center.
Pain erupted in my cheek. The vision vanished. I stumbled back. The butt of the commander’s pistol cracked against my jaw. I fell to the side, but was up when the pistol came swinging down again. I threw up my arm to block her. Our wrists crashed together.
We stared at each other past our touching arms. Her other hand swung around, striking toward my nose. I blocked her again, and then again. I retreated under the force of her blows. Jab to the jaw, elbow to the temple, fingertips to the throat.
I may have had a chance if I’d possessed full use of both arms. She snuck in a fist to my chin that drove my back into the counter, and followed with the pistol across my bruised cheekbone. Pain ripped across my face. My hand went to my cheek, feeling the hot and swollen skin. A warm trickle of blood oozed from a gash.
“The location, Caz!” The commander twisted the fabric of my shirt until it cut into my neck.
Hatred burned my throat. My head was a pressurized knot of tension. I pressed my lips tight to prevent any inadvertent information leakage. A particularly sharp prod to my brain, and I saw the scalloped arches and bell towers again. Towering Japanese holly hovered like a proud parent over the expansive squat building.
“Don’t you see it, Caz?” The commander’s voice eliminated the vision before it could fully materialize. “Can’t you feel your loss; your utter aloneness on this dimension? You are nothing now—but you could be again. Tell me where I can find the Heart, and we’ll find a place for it. A place where it can fulfill its full potential. Like you always wanted.”
A laugh echoed from the knot in my brain. Caz wormed forward.
“We? There is no ‘we.’ There never was a ‘we.’”
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. I shook my head in a desperate attempt to dislodge Caz’s hold. The commander gave an incredulous scoff. With a hard shove against the counter, she released my shirt. In a few quick steps she was back to Thurmond. He was on his knees now, his arms held behind his back by Sanderford and another soldier. The commander ground the pistol into Thurmond’s forehead.
My head exploded in pain, and a flash of blue light shattered my vision. I saw, as though in a dream, the light from a portal pulling out the detail in the eucalyptus trees and sagebrush, making it glow even against the brightness of the sun. The sculpted arches and triple bell towers stood as the background for a simple man in simple clothing, tools in his hands, a wooden cross at his feet. I felt the sphere cradled to my stomach, its warmth and pulsing energy warping my brittle mind.
The vision vanished, leaving me disoriented and blinking at all the figures around me. I knew that place. I’d been there before. Me, Specialist Kris Rose. I’d lived there and trained there as a soldier.
The skin of Thurmond’s forehead puckered around the muzzle of the pistol. His eyes squeezed shut. His jaw muscles created ripples under the skin. The moment seemed eternal. The trigger of the pistol was depressed so far I couldn’t understand how it hadn’t fired yet. I pictured the brass casing housing the gunpowder that would release the bullet. The spiral within the chamber to give the bullet spin and momentum. I imagined the bullet racing down the chamber, not even meeting light before bursting into Thurmond’s head. His eyes would deaden, and I would never be able to tell him about Dad, or how much I cared, or how sorry I was.
“Hunter-Li
ggett.” The words exploded from my mouth like a grenade—small enough to hold in the palm of your hand but with far-reaching consequences I couldn’t begin to comprehend. “The Heart’s at Fort Hunter-Liggett, here in California. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you right to it. Don’t kill him!”
Horror settled in my stomach and overwhelmed the tenuous relief that the information was out. All I could think of was what it cost Dad, and Thurmond, and Rannen, and Wichman, and everyone else who had the misfortune to stumble across my path.
“Excellent!” The commander lifted the pistol with a jerk.
Breath went out of Thurmond. He rubbed the depression in his forehead. The commander took a step away from him, her head cocked, studying my face for deception.
I placed a hand on my mouth to hide a nonexistent tell, letting my eyes express my truthfulness. The shrill wail of distant sirens. Our little circle of drama expanded past ourselves to the soldiers, and then past the soldiers to the world around.
“Let’s get moving before those cops arrive, shall we?” the commander sounded downright cheerful. She grabbed my arm. I allowed her to drag me across the room.
Soldiers muscled Thurmond to his feet. Rannen was being ushered out the stairwell door by Sanderford and Burrows. Rannen forced them to stop for a moment and looked over his shoulder at me. He seemed puzzled, his eyebrows knotted, and he opened his mouth to say something only to close it. Shaking his head, he allowed Sanderford to push him out the door.
I listened to the echoing thunder of boots descending the twenty-five flights of stairs. The commander paused at the door, pinching my arm to stop me. She leaned over me like a drill sergeant trying to hammer information into a difficult private and forced me to look into her inhuman eyes.
“If I find you’ve lied to me, Specialist Rose, or you have something else up your sleeve, I swear to you there will be no more restraint. No more mercy or second chances. Give me any excuse. I would like nothing more than to decorate my clothes with the blood of your friends.”
CHAPTER 34
I rested against the cold wall in the back of the small U-Haul moving truck. Blackness pressed hard on my eyeballs, until I closed them to make the darkness feel more natural. I buried my hands in my hair, trying to block out everything but the sound of the freeway. The whizz-whizz-whizz of the tires was soothing. Such an ordinary sound, normal to billions of people the world over, to the point of being imperceptible white noise. I focused on it to the exclusion of all else. Miniscule rattles and seams in the pavement broke it up on occasion, but for the most part the steady whizz-whizz-whizz could go on forever.
Except the driver had a much closer destination in mind.
“Damn padlock.” Out in the darkness Thurmond kicked and swore at the door, damning the commander, Retha, U-haul, the state of California, and everything in between. The venting went on for a good ten minutes, after which there was nothing but the steady sound of the road. His boots tromped unsteadily in my direction as the truck swayed.
“Rose?” His voice was now soft, cajoling.
I dug my nails deeper into my skull. I didn’t want to hear anything that might connect me to reality. Reality sucked. I had sacrificed the entire world to keep Thurmond alive. And for what? He was still dead. I was dead. Rannen was dead. Just because we were all still currently breathing didn’t mean we should make any long term plans.
“Rose.” Thurmond’s voice was more insistent this time. The truck rattled over a series of bumps. Warmth from his body leeched into my shoulder as he sat by my side.
“Dammit, Rose. Talk to me.”
I grunted, it being far easier than saying, “shut up, I would prefer to spend my last moments on Earth wallowing in self-pity, if you don’t mind,” or even, “go away.”
The realization that self-pity was exactly how far I’d fallen only succeeded in making me feel lower, if that were possible. His strong hands found mine and untangled my fingers from my hair. Thurmond pulled my hand onto his lap, intertwining our fingers.
“How’s your face?”
Throbbing. Oozing. I grunted. It was less than I deserved.
Thurmond continued, “Mine’s fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
A wisp of concern worked its way past my pity party. I pictured myself reaching out and finding the spot on his face where the commander had pistol-whipped him. I would touch it softly and express heartfelt appreciation that it wasn’t much, much worse.
“That was a pretty amazing show you put on back there,” Thurmond said. Then, before I could think about responding his voice changed to a higher pitch. “Thanks, Devon, I’ve been saving the good stuff for our first real date.” His voice went back to normal, “A date? Is that what you call it? I liked the car service and escort you sent. Very urbane.”
An uncharacteristic giggle unfurled from my throat. I covered my mouth to stop any more inappropriate lightheartedness.
The weight of the truck shifted, and I felt as much as heard Rannen approach. The thudding of his big feet and the enormous weight of his body should have flipped the truck, but we rumbled on. He settled on the other side of me, rubbing his wrists. I’d burned through my ropes the second the commander’s men had thrown us into the back of the truck, and then untied Thurmond and Rannen before sinking into despair.
No one spoke again for several minutes. Our breathing skipped in and out of sync. Then, a deep sigh and the smell of ozone.
“I hate to say this under the circumstances,” Rannen said, “but it’s really good to see the both of you.”
“You too.” Thurmond spoke over my head. “They give you a rough time?”
Rannen made a movement next to me that felt something akin to a shrug.
“Is the Heart of Annihilation really at this Hunter-Liggett place?” Rannen’s voice echoed a quick, tinny repeat.
I didn’t speak. My mind was galloping alongside the vision of the old mission with the triple bell towers, searching for the specific spot the destructive, soccer ball-sized sphere was hidden.
“Yes.” I rubbed the sudden ache above my ear.
Rannen’s large, cool hand pulled my hand away from my head and laid it on my lap. The image shattered. Caz retreated. With a little squeeze Rannen released my hand. “How do you know?”
“I saw that Caz . . . well, I remembered when I . . . when she hid it there.”
“You hid it there?” Rannen’s voice became deeper than normal, with a curious lilt to it.
“I guess. At least that’s what I saw. It’s there near the mission, somewhere. Mission San Antonio de something or another.”
“What is this Heart thing anyway?” Thurmond asked. “Why does the commander want it?”
“Uh—” It’s a device capable of destroying an entire dimension. Retha maybe, or how about—dun-dun-dun—Earth? I was saved the trouble of answering.
“Caz Fisk was developing a weapon before she was sentenced to RAGE.” Rannen’s voice was almost lost against the noise of the road. “There’s not a lot known about it, because she destroyed her lab before she went to the DCC building that day. What is common knowledge, though, and correct me if I’m wrong, Kris—”
“How would I know if you’re wrong?”
My surly interruption made Rannen pause, and when he went on there was a detachment in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“What is common knowledge to most Rethans, Devon, is that this device is capable of absorbing all the life energy from an entire dimension. She developed it initially to combat the Thirteenth Dimension. It was supposed to simply be added to the Rethan arsenal as a deterrent. But that was before the Thirteenth Dimension obliterated a dimension her husband was visiting.”
It was as though he was voicing my memories, although more like the memory of a memory, piecing themselves together in my head.
“Wait, she was married? You were married?” Thurmond sounded surprised.
I tried to pull my hand away from his grip so I could cover my ears. He
held me fast.
Rannen didn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretched out long and awkward. He went on.
“After her husband died, she sort of went off radar. She’d show up occasionally, but then the government pulled her funding.”
“Funding for what?” Thurmond asked.
“She was a brilliant munitioner. I guess on this dimension it might be called a gunsmith or a munitions expert. But with Rethan-grade weaponry, of course. I guess the government thought she was too unstable to continue her work. The Rethan you keep calling the commander, and the man she was about to marry, were the only ones Caz had any contact with those few months before she committed the crime. You know him, I believe. He calls himself Xavier Coy, now. He’s Caz’s brother.”
No one can choose their relations. Caz’s whisper came as a surprise. Like she’d been eavesdropping and couldn’t pass up an opportunity to malign her brother.
“Xavier’s your brother? You’re kidding!” Thurmond sounded amused.
“Yeah,” I said. “I wish he was kidding.”
“Well it sort of explains a lot.”
“You mean about why he’d rather see us all die than hand me his stupid gun?”
“What are you talking about, Kris?” Rannen asked. Shadows of anger colored his voice.
“Xavier—Xander, whatever you want to call him, was hiding behind the counter with a gun while the commander and her freak squad beat the snot out of Thurmond and me.”
“He was behind the counter?”
“Bastard,” Thurmond said.
“That means he knows where we’re going,” Rannen sounded hopeful. I didn’t think he should.
“Fat lot of good that’ll do us.”
“Your brother has a great deal of money, Kris. He can buy an army and be there when we arrive.”
“He’s not going to be there. He hates me!”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just angry with you right now. And a little scared of Zell.”