No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2
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“Always full of surprises, aren’t you Blair?” Bridget added. They disengaged as Jordan approached, leading the men and women who’d helped him defend.
“Casualties are bad. At least a hundred were killed, maybe as many as twice that. We’ll have to see how things ended up with Dr. Roberts and Dr. Galk,” he said, voice revealing more emotion than Blair would have thought the man capable of.
His joy turned to ashes when he turned to see the sea of corpses littering the parking lot.
Chapter 33- Consequences
Mark woke up with a start, the tablet tumbling from his chest to thud on the thick grey carpet. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as another knock came at the door. The digital clock’s numbers read 2:38 AM. Who the hell would bother him at this hour? An emergency might prompt a phone call, but someone knocking at his door? He’d have their ass scrubbing air ducts for the next month. He lurched to the door and tapped the lights before opening it. The door slid open to reveal the Old Man’s platinum hair.
“Hello, Mark. I’m sorry for waking you. Can I come in?” he asked, plunging past Mark and dropping into the tiny room's single chair without awaiting an answer.
“What can I do for you?” was all he could muster. Mark sat heavily on the bed, the only other place to sit. Even being The Director only afforded him so much space in a facility like this.
“You can explain your actions. I wanted to hear it for myself rather than call a formal inquiry,” the Old Man said matter of factly. He crossed his arms, gaze boring into Mark.
There was only one thing he could be talking about. Mark had known the instant he’d ordered the extraction in Panama that it would come to this. The Old Man was far too paranoid not to have him watched, and he kept himself apprised of everything that happened in the facility. He’d probably learned about the mission moments after the bird had launched, though clearly he’d waited until Mark was off balance to broach the subject.
“We’ve worked together fifteen years, Leif,” he replied, taking a chance with the Old Man’s name. No one was on a first name basis with Mohn. Not even Mark. “In that time I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I haven’t questioned off-the-books activities you refused to explain, not even Project Solaris or your work with Object 3. I never once asked you for the whole picture even though I was well aware you knew things you had no right to know, things about some sort of ancient civilization and about the impending end of the world. I haven’t questioned you, because up until now I haven't had reason to.”
“You feel that’s changed?” the Old Man asked, brows furrowing as he studied Mark. His gaze held a dangerous intensity.
“We can’t leave a nuke sitting in Panama. I don’t care if we have twenty-one others. Besides, we need to know what’s happening in South America. You and I both know that’s the green zone. If we can reclaim Panama we have a chance at an outpost there. Even if we can't, it’s irresponsible to leave a weapon like that lying around.”
“So you disobeyed a direct order. You had to know I’d find out. What did you think would happen after that?” the Old Man asked. He leaned back in the chair, though Mark knew the apparent relaxation was a ruse. The Old Man never relaxed.
“I guess that depends. If the mission is a success I expect I’ll be reprimanded,” Mark replied. He forced himself not to break eye contact. “If it fails I expect you’ll remove me and put someone else in charge. Higgins maybe. He’s the most experienced section chief.”
“He’s nothing but a sycophant and we both know it,” the Old Man shot back, fire in his eyes. Here came the anger. “I need you, Mark. I need you because I have no one else. You’re the glue holding this place together and I can’t have you questioning me, not this late in the game. We’re close to the realization of everything this company was founded to do. You have to trust me, Mark. Can you do that?”
Mark considered for a long moment before answering. The pragmatic move would be to play the dutiful soldier and say yes. “You know I’m just as connected in the systems as you are. You had to know I’d find out about the phone calls to London. There’s nothing there that matters, not that you’ve told me about. Yet you seem to be orchestrating a massive operation, one you haven’t bothered to tell me about.”
“I knew this would come up sooner or later,” the Old Man said, heaving a sigh as the fire died. He withdrew a ruby pendant on a gold chain, fingering the stone as he spoke. The same eye of Horus he’d used during his demonstration back in Panama when he’d announced the end of the world. “I can’t tell you what’s going on in Europe yet, not until I’m certain we’re secure. I see how my actions could have caused you to question my authority, but that has to stop now. You need to trust that I’m doing what’s best, both for this company and for humanity. If you can’t do that you become a liability and as huge a loss as that will be I’ll have to deal with you. I know you know that.”
“I know,” Mark said. The room was a constant 67 degrees, but it felt like a sauna. “So where do we go from here?”
“I overlook your lapse in judgement with Panama and you ignore my phone calls to London,” the Old Man said, rising from the chair. “I know you don’t like being kept in the dark. Neither do I. Let’s not let this become a habit.”
“Understood, sir,” Mark said. “I’ll keep you apprised of the situation in Panama. In the meantime you might want to study the reports from the vault.”
“I read the first one. The objects we brought up top absorbed radiation from the CME as expected. What else is there?”
“The lesser objects in the vault also picked up traces of energy. Even the ones we thought completely inert,” Mark explained. The Old Man was smart enough to see the significance in that.
“You were right to bring it to my attention. I’ll go over the reports,” he walked to the door and it slid open. The Old Man turned, already half outside the room. “Get some sleep, Mark. The next few weeks are going to be even worse than the last few.”
Chapter 34- Sunsteel
Irakesh was pleased. The dead ruled the tarmac below, thousands of zombies. Nascent deathless he would soon turn to his will, roaming about in little packs as they sought sustenance. He stepped away from the roof’s edge, still baffled by the strange black substance they stood on top of. It bubbled and sloped, uneven from years of rain no doubt. It was a flimsy material, ill suited to the task. The black substance clearly kept the rain from leaking into the building below, but it would have to be re-applied every decade or so. It lacked the permanence of stone.
Metallic craft littered the runway, most lined up near several other large buildings. Terminals, that was the word. His new memories supplied many such things, though the words still tasted strange.
Irakesh glanced to his right where Cyntia and Trevor stood. The champion was falling fast, much to his delight. She fed indiscriminately now. Deathless, human or even her own kind. It had made her strong, perhaps the equal to the powerful Ka-Ken who’d so very nearly slain him back in the Ark. That would be critical when the confrontation came. It would come, of course. He could feel the Ka-Dun somewhere behind him along the road leading to the metropolis they’d so recently passed. So much metal, so little stone.
He faced Trevor, his unwitting ally and very first thrall. The man was more promising than Irakesh could have dreamed, but that fact also made him exceedingly dangerous. For now Irakesh could dominate him, but in time his thrall would gain strength enough to resist.
You risk much, my host. Perhaps he should be sacrificed during the confrontation with the Ka-Dun. There will be other thralls, more pliable and less troublesome.
Irakesh ignored his risen, studying Trevor instead. The man knelt next to the narrow lip at the roof’s edge, rifle cradled in one hand while he shaded his eyes from the midday glare. The gesture was reflexive, muscle memory left from his time among the living. That would fade in time, as both mind and body accepted his new abilities. Trevor bit his lip, eyes narrowing as he scanned the terminals.
“You’ve driven us relentlessly to reach this place. What’s so important? You have to be after something,” Trevor asked, direct as usual. That part of his demeanor was quite refreshing. There was no subterfuge to the man, a near impossibility in his own age. Direct men died.
“The first of the cattle I devoured knew a great many interesting things,” Irakesh replied. He decided to be magnanimous. Perhaps it would increase Trevor’s loyalty and if not, it cost nothing. “There is a device here that I desire. A bomb of incredible power that will discharge a fantastic amount of energy.”
“Why?” Trevor demanded.
Irakesh’s hands balled into fists, but he resisted the urge to chastise the man. If he wished Trevor’s cooperation, he needed to treat the man closer to an equal, no matter how much it galled him.
“Unlike many of my contemporaries, I will allow you to ask such impertinent questions. Your curiosity is natural. Yet if I must explain my motivation behind every action I will have no time to act,” Irakesh said, forcing honey into the words. “You must trust me. If you prove yourself, as I have no doubt you will, then you will earn my trust. Until then I must ask your patience.”
“I get that you don’t want me questioning every decision, but this has to be an exception. That bomb could annihilate a city. That concerns me. Humor me, why do you want it?” Trevor said, voice as dispassionate as ever.
Cyntia loomed behind him, eyes burning with feverish intensity. A subtle reminder of where her loyalties lay.
“I cannot. That knowledge could be used against me, should a Ka-Dun pluck it from your mind. In time I will teach you the proper mental defenses to prevent such an act, but for now it is enough to know my will. We have come for the bomb. Then we will find a craft to take us north. One you will fly,” Irakesh said, moderating his tone as much as he was able. “However, I do not wish you to feel you are being ignored. You may ask another question and I will answer it. Surely there are things you must be curious about.”
“All right. How about an easier question, then. Why is your sword gold during the day but silver at night?” Trevor asked, stroking his goatee with a free hand. Such a casual gesture but it penned volumes about the man.
“A clever question. Very few recognize the true nature of Sunsteel. I will give you a worthy answer,” Irakesh said, impressed again by his pupil. He eased his sword from its sheath, offering the na-kopesh to Trevor. “See how the blade is curved? That makes it excellent for decapitating an opponent. Or, if you wish to prolong their agony, you may disembowel them just as easily. A singular weapon, even during my age.”
“Yes, but why does the blade change color?” Trevor asked, hefting the weapon experimentally. He gave a tentative slash, the air humming as he sliced it.
“It reacts to the sun or the moon, absorbing energy from whichever light it basks in,” Irakesh explained, extending a hand. Trevor handed the weapon back, a bit reluctantly.
“It absorbs light?” Trevor said, gawking at the blade. “How? Can you tap into that as a power source?”
“Yes,” Irakesh replied, considering how much he dared reveal. All in this case. “The blade can draw on energy wherever it is found. Including the energy you or I possess. If you stab a foe with Sunsteel you can feast upon their life force, growing stronger through the act.”
Be wary, my host. Imparting such knowledge will cause him to covet the blade.
“If you wish, I will teach you to wield it,” Irakesh offered, slamming the blade home in it’s sheath. “Once we are in the air I will give you your first lesson. We will practice every day afterwards. Someday these skills may save your life.”
“I…don’t really know what to say. I’d love to learn to do what you do with that thing,” Trevor said, a glimmer of eagerness leaking into his tone. He feigned a disinterested expression, of course. Trevor was eager for this knowledge, enough that he might even cooperate in the short term. “If we’re going to get this bomb, let’s do it. You said that Ka-Dun is behind us. I’d rather be out of here before his pack arrives.”
“I know who it is,” Cyntia said, hackles rising as she bared her fangs. The fear was sharp. Pungent. She backed a step away from Trevor. “Liz. Liz and Blair are coming. They’ll bring Bridget and Jordan.”
Irakesh covered his smile with a tiny cough. It was rare for Trevor to show emotion, and in this case it revealed much that he guessed the man would regret.
“Jordan? As in Commander Jordan? The guy from Mohn?” Trevor asked, turning a sharp eye on Cyntia.
“Yes, he was a soldier with Mohn. Do you know him?” she asked, pursing her lips.
“He tried to kill us. Repeatedly. He chased us from San Diego to Peru and the last thing standing in our way when we were trying to wake the Mother,” Trevor said. His eyes narrowed, flaring green as he placed his hand on the barrel of his gun. “I owe that son of a bitch. He gutted my house with fucking missiles. He blew up my Mustang. I spent three years restoring that thing.”
“Then I will gut him and feast on his innards,” she hissed, eyes narrowing in unconscious imitation of Trevor. The fear was rivaled by anger, sharp and acrid. “But Liz is strong. Bridget, less so but still more potent than I.”
“Than you were,” Trevor gave, shaking his head. “You’re stronger now. A lot stronger.”
“Trevor is correct, but the Ka-Ken is not the real threat. The Ka-Dun, this Blair. He is the threat. You must kill him before all others,” Irakesh demanded. They must not allow the Ka-Dun to get too close. He’d proven resourceful with his shaping, and that made him a threat.
“There’s no way I’m doing that. That, you cannot force me to do,” Trevor said. He turned to face Irakesh, crossing his arms and glaring defiantly. Yet there were cracks in that defiance. Uncertainly. Fear that Irakesh could force him to do this act he so despised. “I won’t kill Liz, either. She’s my fucking sister, Irakesh. He’s a friend. Don’t make me do this.”
“I can compel you, you realize that?” Irakesh asked, removing his hand from the hilt of his blade so he could cross his arms in imitation of his thrall. He felt less as his hand left the warm metal.
“Maybe, but I’ll fight you,” Trevor said. A low growl came from Cynthia’s chest as she stepped next to him. The meaning was clear.
“You will lose, both of you,” Irakesh said, matter-of-factly. “But if I force you to do this, you will never trust me, never work with me as a proper thrall should. Tell me, if I spare your sister and the Ka-Dun will you agree to serve me without question? I’ll have your loyalty or I’ll have your sister’s pelt for a cloak.”
Trevor’s eyes grew thoughtful.
Give him a moment, let him mull this. If he ascents this one will likely keep his word, so long as you take care not to push him too far past the demands of his conscience.
“If you leave them alone then I’ll serve you, but the moment that changes I will plant that sword in your fucking back,” Trevor growled, eyes flaring again. Cyntia coiled like a spring beside him, claws flexing.
Should he strike now? Irakesh retained the advantage, but that would eventually change. No, he had time yet. He would use Trevor then find a clever way to dispose of him, if need be. Cyntia would have nowhere to go, and her loyalty would almost certainly transfer to him. Assuming she retained some part of her sanity.
“A bargain, then,” Irakesh said, extending his hand. It was the gesture of trust used by most cultures in this new age. Trevor hesitated. “We will get what we came for and be away from this place. If we do encounter the Ka-Dun and his pack we’ll delay them and then flee. There will be no killing unless we are forced to it. In fact, I have an idea. I will show you how to shape an Anakim. This creature will be powerful enough to delay your
friends, but not so strong that they cannot overcome it. I will include a small horde to further delay them, so that we might avoid a direct confrontation. Does that suffice?”
If he detects the lie, you must stand ready.
Irakesh tensed as Trevor raised a hand, but it was merely to take his. His grip was firm and powerful, a shadow of Irakesh’s own.
Chapter 35- Captain Douche
Jordan trusted Steve even less than he liked the smug bastard. The man in question lounged in a blue canvas camp chair, leg up over one side and a plastic water bottle in one hand. A douchey smile ran counterpoint to the unquestioned superiority in his gaze. This despite the sea of carnage around them, hundreds of bodies that had recently been friends and family to the people who called this little sanctuary home. Or had called it home. All that had changed in a matter of minutes, but this guy was above it all. He was alive, so clearly that was all that mattered.
“We’ll have to rebuild, but I don’t think we can do it here,” Doctor Roberts said, shoulders slumped and voice impossibly weary. A marked contrast to Steve. “The survivors won’t trust this place. Besides, with fewer of us we’ll need a smaller location to defend.” He removed his battered fedora, wiping the sweat from his brow before replacing it.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news on that count,” Steve said, pausing dramatically to sip from his water bottle. This one liked being the center of attention, just like he had when he’d first shown up at the Ark with the original science team. The famous Doctor Galk. “I’ve decided I must accompany Blair. I hate to desert you, Doctor Roberts, but this Irakesh is a serious threat and must be stopped. As Blair and his friends have had trouble thus far it seems clear that they’re in need of my help.”