by Chris Fox
Even if he did free himself, it would occur after he was embroiled in combat. By that point, it shouldn’t matter. He’d betrayed the Ka-Dun and his pack, and they’d pull Trevor down without the slightest hesitation. He had no choice but to fight.
“Prepare yourselves. We make for the bridge above. An impressive structure, that. It seems your world has produced feats nearly as great as my own,” Irakesh said, turning back to face the water. He raised his arms, channeling energy from the Ark’s dwindling stores. The water parted, revealing a narrow passage that threaded across the ocean floor towards the bridge’s central pylon. “Tell me, Trevor. Why do they call it the Golden Gate Bridge? It is neither golden, nor a gate.”
“It’s the gateway to the bay,” Trevor replied. He gave no further words, merely stalked up the muddy trail a few feet behind Irakesh. Yes, his death was for the best.
“Cyntia, walk with me,” Irakesh called, pausing until she was even with him. She was back in werewolf form now, dirty blonde with deep green splotches. The corruption, they called it. It was thick upon her and grew thicker each day. Madness wouldn’t be far behind. Not the aggressive behavior they’d seen, but an all-consuming rage.
She quickened her pace, drawing even with him as he stepped over a curved white chunk of metal. The keel of a boat perhaps. It was hard to know, since he’d devoured few memories of ships in this age.
“What?” Cyntia growled, looming over him as she shifted the silver box to the arm farthest from him.
“What comes next is critical. I can feel the Ka-Dun somewhere to the north. A short distance,” Irakesh explained, lifting his sandal as he stepped over a wide puddle of cold sludge. “He will bring whatever allies he has left. They are not strong enough to kill us, but when they try I want you to slay them and devour their corpses. Keep Trevor and I safe. Will you do that?”
“Blair tore off my leg,” Cyntia roared, claws flexing. She bared her fangs, eyes wild. “I’m going to eat him, piece by piece. I’ll keep him alive, so he can watch me get fat from his flesh.”
“Excellent. Visit the same fate on his pack, if he brings them,” Irakesh demanded. He expected some sort of protest from Trevor, but the fiery-haired deathless simply watched. Cold. Patient. That was a bad sign. He was marshaling his will, waiting for Irakesh to show sign of weakness.
Just a little longer and neither of his companions would be a threat. No one would be a threat. He’d have the strength to dominate the entire continent, building a necropolis to rival the Cradle from his own lost age. By the time his mother learned of his existence he’d be a powerful rival, not an insignificant vassal.
They continued through the sludge, still a shock to Irakesh. In his own time the oceans had been lower. This would have been a well-protected valley on the edge of a calm port. The perfect place to build an Ark that could both dominate the continent and enable passage to other lands. The Builders had chosen an incredible location.
Now that it lay underwater it was even more so, for none of the interesting technical marvels produced in this time could remove the water. That made getting inside the Ark that much more challenging. Assuming it had the power to keep the ocean from flooding it.
A sleek grey form, long and deadly, swam by in the wall of water to his left. The shark sensed that gap in the water and was curious. Excellent predators. He’d need to harness them in defense of this place in case his enemies found a way to plumb the icy depths and reach the entrance of the Ark.
“You’re going to blow up San Francisco? Why? There can’t be any possible benefit to you,” Trevor said. The words dripped acid. Irakesh noticed Cyntia’s ears twitch, but she didn’t glance back. The madness was close, if even Trevor no longer motivated her. He’d been the lifeline to which her sanity had clung.
A corrupted on the verge of the change. A powerful vassal on the verge of becoming a true deathless. Yet by the time the sun sank into the waves Irakesh would be the most powerful being to walk these shores in an age of the world. He must focus on the prize, not the risk.
“What makes you think I intend to blow it up? This is the capital of my new empire, the necropolis from which I will rule this continent,” Irakesh stated. It was so, a certain future. He would allow no other possibility.
“Then what is the bomb for?” Trevor asked, slapping the side of the case Cyntia carried. She glowered at him, baring her fangs and giving a low, menacing growl.
Irakesh stopped, turning slowly to face Trevor. His next words were critical. He must allay at least one of his fears or Trevor could attack before the compulsion was even triggered. “Very well, you’ve earned an explanation. We’re going to detonate that bomb. I will use the Ark to harness that energy, drawing it in and filling the vast reservoirs that the ages have drained. It will become the most powerful Ark in the world. The others are all constrained by the weak sun. It will be centuries before they can draw fully from it and in that time I will use this Ark to dominate a continent. Neither Isis nor Ra will be able to unseat me. They’ll be too busy sniping at each other, as always.”
“Are you sure you can control that much power? What if the Ark overloads?” Trevor asked. Irakesh was generally impressed with Trevor’s complete lack of emotion. If the enormity of Irakesh’s plan impacted him in any way, he didn’t show it.
“If that occurs then the Ark will detonate and the land will be blackened for hundreds of miles,” Irakesh said, looking Trevor directly in the eye. “But it will not happen. The Arks were designed by The Builders to withstand the full fury of the sun at its peak, a state of the world you cannot even comprehend. Their reservoirs are nearly limitless.”
“Do you know exactly how much power is released by the bomb you’re about to detonate? It was designed to annihilate cities,” Trevor protested, shaking his head. “Why do I bother? Even if that were a risk, you wouldn’t listen. Even though it’s your own life at stake. What do you think will happen to you if your plan fails and the nuke destroys this city?”
“I will die,” Irakesh answered, again a simple statement of fact. He started back up the path. The wide copper pillar was just a hundred yards distant, its concrete base covered in thick algae. He glanced back at Trevor. “Yet if I succeed, you will have the ability to help shape the future of this land, second only to me. If we fail, then you will no longer have to endure this hellish existence. Look around you. I know the prospect of destroying so much pains you. You are a product from a world that pretends nature isn’t horribly vengeful. Yet look what’s happened. Those few who cling to life here are huddling in fear as their world gives its last gasp. Surely they’d welcome the freedom oblivion would bring.”
Trevor opened his mouth to reply, but then his jaw clicked shut. He shrugged, glancing away from Irakesh. Was that a sign of acceptance? Or that he no longer regarded Irakesh as worthy of communication?
They finally reached the massive pylon, extending hundreds of feet into the air where it met the odd bridge these people had somehow constructed. It rivaled any of the architectural marvels of his own age. How had they suspended so much metal over such a vast expanse of water? The genius required was impressive.
Irakesh focused on his inner reserves, drawing deeply and infusing his entire body with energy. He began to vibrate, faster and faster until he achieved the proper frequency. Then he enacted a change on every molecule, every fiber of his being. He became a cloud of charged energy, a sentient representation of his will. He drifted skyward, admiring the sunset over the ocean.
Cyntia seemed to sense what was required of her, leaping thirty feet up to catch the side of the pylon with her claws. She vaulted again, then a third time. Each leap took her closer to the bridge itself, which bulged above him from the weight of the countless minions he’d used the Ark to summon.
Trevor paused behind him for a long moment. So long that Irakesh thought he might have to offer aid. Then he felt the change in Trevor, watching warily as his protege shifted into a similar cloud. He drifted after Irakesh,
following him to the main body of the bridge. The pylon extended into the sky above, wide sweeping cables hanging between it and the next one. They were the color of clay from the deep desert. The builders had mixed copper in that metal. How much of that precious substance had been mined to create so large a structure?
Irakesh allowed the waters to close beneath them once they were above sea level, drifting steadily skyward until he had a vantage of the bridge’s main causeway. Excellent. It was thronged with corpses, thousands upon thousands of writhing bodies pressed tightly between abandoned vehicles. There were so many that one was occasionally knocked from the bridge, plummeting to the icy depths below.
“We’ll set down near the center, closest to the Ark,” Irakesh called over the low wind. He drifted towards the asphalt, willing the milling zombies back and creating a clearing.
Trevor settled on the ground next to him, heavy pistol holstered at his side and a much larger rifle strapped to his back. Irakesh was still growing used to the weapons of this time, much preferring his na-kopesh. Even had it not been forged from Sunsteel, it would still be a weapon he’d wielded for decades. He’d spent countless hours dueling and still more honing his skills in battle.
Cyntia’s ungainly form bounded over the side of the bridge, smashing a pair of zombies as she scanned around until she located them. A single bound brought her within the narrow ring Irakesh had created. She looked crazed, still cradling the silver box like her long lost pup. Unease crept up his spine, a cold spider seeking prey.
“Cyntia, the time has come for you to gain your revenge. The Ka-Dun will approach soon and I need you to stalk them,” he said, hoping to appeal to her all-consuming rage. “Leave the box there in the center. I will have these minions tend to it while you deal with our foes.”
She glared hard at him, no sign of intelligence left in those bestial eyes. Then she finally gave a low growl, setting the box in the center of the ring. She leapt to a nearby cable and scampered up into the fog. Trevor leapt a moment later, scurrying up a cable on the opposite side of the bridge.
All was ready. In a few short hours he would be undisputed master of everything he surveyed.
Chapter 67- Set Us Up The Bomb
Blair’s purpose had never been so clear. Cyntia needed to be put down, just like any other rabid animal. He leapt to the top of the hill, peering through shrubs down at the Golden Gate Bridge. The dead clogged the wide structure, so thick they covered abandoned cars like maggots on rotted meat. A dense patch of fog wreathed the top of bridge and part of the bay, but its familiar red spires poked through.
“Any sign of them?” Liz’s disembodied voice startled him from the patch of shadow to his right, between a mossy boulder and a small tree that had been shaped by the wind into a skeletal hand. The sun sank toward the ocean in the west, just an hour before twilight.
“Near the center of the bridge. Do you see that mound?” Blair replied, gesturing towards a massive pile of bodies. It had to be thirty or forty feet high, a writhing mass that drew the eye. Putrid but fascinating.
“I see them. What the hell are they doing?” Liz replied. It was eerie not being able to see her, but Blair had grown used to it. Her presence comforted him, though recent events had left him numb.
“My guess? Irakesh is using them to protect the bomb. He knows we have to go for that first, and if it’s buried under zombies we’ll have a tough time getting to it. That will give him and Trevor time to strike from the shadows when we approach,” Blair said. His hackles rose as another figure blurred into existence next to him, but he was relieved to see Jordan’s familiar bulk.
The heavily muscled man was still in human form, shrouded in that strange black armor. The woven fibers could swell to accommodate his wolf form. They even allowed his claws to poke through without damaging the material and included a harness for the arsenal he’d equipped for this fight.
Jordan scanned the bridge and then gave a tight nod. “Blair’s right. That pile is where we’re likely to find the bomb. Or it’s a damned cunning decoy. Could be we search there and find nothing, leaving ourselves vulnerable without Irakesh ever risking the real bomb. Either way we don’t have a choice. We have to take his bait.”
The high-pitched whup whup whup of Yuri’s craft sounded from behind. Blair turned to see it rising over the tree line, zipping between the canopy of two giant redwoods as it zoomed parallel with the hillside. The sleek craft was just large enough to hold one person, with rotors embedded in the front and rear like bicycle tires turned on their sides. A sleek black mini-gun was slung under the cockpit, with two boxy missile launchers to either side. The perfect one man fighter.
Steve blurred into a crouch well behind the group, at the edge of the animosity emanating from Jordan and Liz. His midnight fur ruffled in the wind, amber eyes dangerous. It was exactly the sort of look grad student Bridget would have sidled up against, but warrior Bridget would have found disgusting. She’d changed so much in the time he’d known her, become great by the end. Blair clad himself in her loss.
“Jordan, you’re the tactical expert,” Liz rumbled from the shadows. “How do you want to do this?”
“There are a lot of unknowns, so we’ll have to be fluid,” Jordan said, still eyeing Steve with scorn. “We’ll send Blair in as bait. He'll head straight for the bomb. Either Trevor or Cyntia will attack him, maybe both. When that happens, I engage Trevor and Liz engages Cyntia. At that point, Irakesh may choose to engage. If he does, that’s when Steve makes his move. You attack Irakesh. We finish off our respective opponents and help you finish up yours.”
“That’s acceptable,” was all Steve gave back.
“What about Yuri?” Blair asked. He eyed the craft, trying to figure out what the best use might be.
“Yuri will use the fog to hide a strafing run,” Jordan replied, gaze growing distant as he spoke. It was a familiar look, but one he’d never seen on Jordan’s face. He was touching Yuri’s mind. Blair was astonished. Yet proud. “He’ll focus on the pile of zombies, knocking off as many as possible.”
“Doesn’t that mean firing a machine gun at a nuclear bomb? Are we that stupid now?” Liz’s voice came from over Blair’s shoulder this time. He could almost picture furry hands on her hips.
“The casing was designed to be carried in an airplane,” Jordan replied dryly in Liz’s direction. “It can withstand a fall from several thousand feet. Crashing. In a plane. A fifty caliber bullet might knock it off the bridge, but it won’t detonate it. The best thing that could happen right now is for that bomb to end up on the bottom of the bay. If it’s not armed he won’t be able to use it, and if it is I’ll take any protection I can get before it detonates.”
“Can’t we disarm it somehow?” Steve asked, taking a step closer. He was still in a crouch, just below the rise shielding them from the bridge.
“This isn’t a movie, Steve,” Jordan growled. His hands tightened around the body of his rifle, fat black scope affixed to the barrel. “You don’t arm a nuke unless you’re planning to detonate it. If he’s armed the thing a chemical reaction has already started and that thing is going to blow up in the next half hour or so. Nothing we can do about it.”
“Shit,” was all Blair could muster. “Let’s hope he hasn’t armed it. The guy is obsessed with power. I can’t imagine him blowing himself up or even risking the possibility.”
“One way to find out,” Jordan said, stepping to the crest of the ridge. He was in plain view for anyone looking up from the bridge. “Liz, if we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”
“Then let’s do it,” Liz growled, hands balling into fists as she joined Jordan on the ridge.
Jordan’s eyes took on that glassy look for a moment, then Yuri’s strange craft accelerated up over the ridge with a high-pitched whine. It hugged the hillside, dropping low along the grass as it zoomed towards the bridge. It was still nearly a mile distant when the gun slung under the cockpit began to spin. A hail of bright streaks lance
d into the mountain of corpses, flinging body parts in all directions as they bored through flesh more efficiently than any drill.
Blair blurred down the hillside, vaulting a boulder and landing near the tunnel entrance leading further north into Marin. The vista point, where countless tourists had snapped photos of the Golden Gate Bridge, was deserted, with not a single car or even a zombie. The latter were all on the bridge. Blair took his bearings and then knelt to blur again. He stopped when he spotted movement on top of one of the bridge’s arches. A figure drew a rifle to bear, sighting down a scope towards Yuri. He could make out a shock of almost orange hair and a battered camouflage jacket. The rifle bucked and a gout of flame erupted from the muzzle.
There was a scream of metal as the front rotor of Yuri’s craft exploded. It spun wildly out of control, careening away from the bridge towards the Marin side. A second shot punched through the cockpit, shattering the glass just before the copter slammed into the side of the hill. Blair winced, expecting a Michael Bay-style explosion. There wasn’t any, just a scream of metal as the frame buckled and slid out of sight.
Blair couldn’t see what happened to Yuri and didn’t have time to find out. He blurred into motion, leaping on top of one of the cables and running up it until he neared the middle of the bridge. It amazed him how quickly he crossed the distance, wind tugging at his fur as he entered the mist. Then he leapt, falling towards the mound of bodies.
It had diminished considerably after Yuri’s attack, but still rose a good twenty feet. His feet sank into the shattered ribcage of an obese man, cushioning his fall. Blair rolled backwards, landing at the base of the mound. Then he began to hurl body parts away as he tunneled towards where he hoped the bomb lay.
Chapter 68- Jordan Versus Gregg