by Sean Platt
That would be a proper way to go out, fighting, doing what he did best. Of course, he’d be putting the sanctuary at risk. And as the sole guard working it, he couldn’t be that selfish.
The church served as a refuge — a place for rebels to go if they got lost in the field. It was usually manned by one person who kept lookout in the belfry and radioed the bases each morning with an update. Yeah, we found your guy. Come and get him. The rebels would send Luca and Boricio to make sure the rebel hadn’t been compromised, or infected. It was a decent system that protected the hidden locations of rebel camps in The City. Keenan couldn’t leave the job empty without risking the lives of others.
The last guy working the belfry had gone stir-crazy and requested reassignment. Ed had gladly volunteered to take the open spot, even though his talents were wasted.
He thought working at the sanctuary would give him some desperately needed alone time. Ever since Jade’s death, he’d found it harder to be around the others and stay civil. The church gave him space to rebuild what was left of his life.
But since he’d taken the position three months ago, Ed found that the solitary confinement had only hollowed him further. He felt scooped out like a gourd. And with that emptiness came a bleaker series of thoughts:
Why go on?
What was the point of fighting an impossible battle?
Weren’t they all just delaying the inevitable?
Ed had no answers, and saw little reason to go on. At least not for himself. Maybe for Brent and Teagan. They had children to protect. And in a way, Ed felt responsible for their safety. But at the same time, how long could they delay the inescapable? Someday, death would come for the kids, for Brent, for Teagan. Death would come for them all.
The enemy was too many, and there weren’t enough people to fight it. No matter how many aliens or bandits they managed to kill, there always seemed to be more.
There was no way around it. The end was as inevitable as the night.
And Ed didn’t want to be there when it happened. He couldn’t stand to see another situation where he was helpless to prevent the unpreventable.
As he sat there, gun in hand, an idea found shape. Ed would call home base tomorrow, tell them to send someone new, because he needed to follow a lead — he’d figure the specifics later. Then he’d go off, somewhere where he wasn’t compromising their network’s security, radio home one final time to let everyone know they shouldn’t come looking for him, then he’d end it.
On his terms.
For the first time in two years, Ed smiled.
Soon, it’ll all be over.
**
From his makeshift hunter’s perch in the thick tree line, Ed scanned the slaughterhouse grounds, watching the alien shuttle land on schedule.
Once a month, the shuttle dropped off fresh workers for the slaughterhouse, one of the mainland’s few structures with working power. The rebels had been wanting to hit the slaughterhouse for a while — to interrupt The Island’s food supply. But following rebel attacks on factories and farms, the aliens had beefed up their security. Now the place was a fortress, turning any attack into a suicide mission.
Which, of course, was why Ed was here.
There were four towers, one in each corner of the high-gated perimeter. Three of the four were occupied by Guardsmen, with black helmets but no visors. The men closest to Ed, on the west side, were staring ahead. That left the man in the rear free to eliminate without Ed being noticed — hopefully.
He lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger, hitting his target with the first suppressed bullet.
The guard fell in the tower, thankfully not out of it. Ed scanned the other two towers, ensuring that neither man was alerted. Both were oblivious to their fallen comrade. Ed lined up his next shot, taking out the farther of the two men. Again, he hit his target with a single bullet. This Guardsman, however, fell forward and plunged to the ground.
Shit!
Ed swung the rifle’s scope to find the final guard. The sentry’s movements were panicked, raising the rifle and scanning his surroundings in search of the shooter.
If the operation had any sort of decent protocol, the man would be signaling for backup in seconds. Ed had to eliminate him before then. He planned to die, but Ed didn’t want a wasted death. He intended to do some damage before going out in a blaze of glory.
He lined up his shot, fired, and missed.
The man spun around and fired blindly. Unlike Ed, the man’s gunfire wasn’t suppressed. Shots screamed in the twilight.
Well, so much for going in quiet.
Ed fired twice more and brought the guard down.
Seconds later, an alarm blurted out, a droning ring punctuated with two seconds of silence before its return.
Several Guardsmen flooded out of the main gate, racing toward his general direction. Ed considered picking off a few of them, but they were fast and erratic. Some wore the visored helmets, equipped to identify heat signatures, making Ed an easy target before he leveled major damage to the facility.
Ed swung his rifle strap over his neck, weapon dangling against his back, then scrambled down the tree.
Gunfire cracked behind him.
Debris spit up in front of him.
Shit. Shit.
Ed had nowhere to run. He cursed himself for not thinking through his plan more. He’d gone in rashly rather than deliberately. Now he was about to be shot dead like a dog in a field outside the slaughterhouse.
He swung the rifle around and fired, eliminating three of the Guardsmen before pain splintered his right shoulder.
Ed fell back, somehow managing to stay on his feet. He used his left hand to raise the rifle, but his right refused to cooperate, pain rendering it useless.
Fuck!
At least a dozen Guardsmen stopped ninety yards away, guns aimed at Ed, holding their fire, recognizing that he was injured, no longer a threat.
An amplified voice yelled out, “Put the gun down!!”
Ed shook his head. “Fuck you!”
A gunshot shattered Ed’s right kneecap.
He fell to the ground, on his back, in blinding pain.
Ed winced, trying to raise his rifle and tag at least a few of the fuckers before he died.
He looked down at the gun and his useless hand, willing it to cooperate.
Thundering footsteps approached, as if in a herd.
Ed reached down with his left hand, finding grenades on his belt, ready to do what had to be done.
And then a flash.
He felt the grenade fall from his hand, but the explosion never came.
Suddenly he was back in the belfry, with Luca.
“Dammit!” Ed yelled, “What did you do?”
“I saved you,” the young man said. “Now please, let me fix your wounds.”
“Did you ever think maybe I didn’t want to be saved?” Ed pushed the healer away.
Luca laid his hands on Ed’s chest, warmth pouring from his palms, melting into Ed’s body.
Ed tried to push him away again, but somehow Luca had him immobilized. Perhaps it was part of the healing process.
“Please,” Ed begged, meeting Luca’s eyes. “Please, don’t fix me. I don’t … I don’t want to go on.”
Luca stared at Ed then shook his head. “No.”
“No? No what?”
“I’m not letting you give up.”
Ed tried to move again but couldn’t. He could feel the warmth repairing his wounds, in both his shoulder and his knee. The pain was still intense, but he’d seen Luca’s handiwork enough to know he’d be right as rain in minutes.
Ed stopped resisting.
He closed his eyes, lying back and letting Luca finish healing him.
Luca finally let go, but Ed kept his eyes closed. If he opened them, he’d cry. And Ed didn’t want anyone, let alone another guy, to ever see him crying.
Ed sat in silence until he felt like he could finally sit up and face Luca without breaking dow
n.
Luca was sitting across from him in the rays of moonlight bleeding through the belfry shutters, cross-legged, his usual serene self.
“Why didn’t you let me do what I needed to do?” Ed asked, his voice dry and raspy.
Luca stood, went to the supply box, and handed Ed a canteen.
Ed refused the water.
Luca set it down beside him then returned to his spot across from Ed and stared at him, as if disappointed.
“What?”
“Do you think Jade would want you to give up?”
“Jade’s dead, kid. Doesn’t matter what she’d want. Dead people don’t have wants.”
Luca nodded. “What about Brent? Teagan? The kids? I know you’re close to them.”
Ed shook his head. “I just can’t do it any longer.”
“Do what?”
“Watch people die.”
Luca nodded. “Fair enough.”
Ed expected resistance and felt tears welling from Luca’s kind response.
He closed his eyes again, tilting his head down.
“It’s okay to miss her,” Luca said.
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Would it help to know that the end isn’t the end?”
Ed looked up, glaring at Luca, despite his blurry eyes. “You gonna tell me there’s some Heaven or something?”
“No,” Luca said. “Not in the sense that you think of it, anyway. But our souls do live on. Your daughter’s is somewhere out there.”
“You talking about reincarnation?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“So this is supposed to be some kind of relief, knowing she’s out there in this wretched hellhole?”
A horrific thought hit him. That Jade was reborn as a baby, somewhere helpless, family struggling against bandits, aliens, and all the other predators running the planet.
“Is she out there now? Do you know where she is?”
Luca shook his head. “She’s not here.”
“Where the hell is she?”
Luca was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not everyone comes back here. There are many dimensions, multiple worlds, infinite timelines she can be brought into.”
“I want to be with her then. Can you do that?”
“We need you here.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“You are an important part of what’s coming.”
Ed hated when the kid started talking as if he knew the future.
“You can see these things, yet you couldn’t warn me that my daughter was going to die?”
“I don’t see everything. I only see some things. And what I can see, I can’t necessarily stop. Fate has an odd way of asserting itself.”
Ed laughed, unable to hide his contempt.
“So, what, I need to stay alive to play some part you’ve seen in your head? I don’t get a fucking say over my life?”
“This isn’t just about you. It’s about the ripples you create in the lives of others.”
“It’s my life!”
Luca didn’t respond.
Ed grabbed the knife from a sheath on his belt and brought it to his throat, sharp cold blade ready to slice. “I have free will. I choose when to die, not you. Not fate.”
Luca stayed infuriatingly calm. “You can do it, but I’ll bring you back.”
Ed glared at him again then let the blade fall to the ground with a hollow clank.
“Trust in fate. Everything happens for a reason.”
“Fuck fate. No reason can justify killing my daughter. None! How does killing her make for some greater good? And if that is the greater good, then fuck it, I could give a shit about the greater good.”
“I can make the pain go away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can make you forget her. I can erase her memories so you won’t feel the pain. If that would make things easier.”
Ed wiped the tears from his eyes, regarding the offer.
“How would you do this?”
“I can go in and pluck the memories from your head, make it as if she never existed.”
“No,” Ed said, feeling violated by the thought of someone stealing his memories of Jade. “That’s not right. I don’t want to forget her.”
“Why?” Luca asked, as if he didn’t understand why a father would want to remember his only child. Ed had always thought Luca was a bit off, and maybe more alien than human after all.
“Because I love her. I don’t ever want to forget her, no matter how much it hurts.”
“Then why are you so eager to end your life? How can you remember and honor her if you’re dead? Come on, Mr. Keenan, you’re stronger than this.”
Ed swallowed, wiping more tears from his eyes.
“I know it can’t be easy for you. To have lost your wife and daughter. To watch as all these horrible things happen to people around you, and to feel helpless. But these people need you. We need you. Like a rock thrown in the water, your actions cause ripples that affect everyone. Give up now, and all those lives will have been lost for nothing. And shouldn’t their lives count? Do you want that to be their legacy? That they caused you to surrender? Is that how you’ll honor them?”
Ed looked down, ashamed.
Luca stood, walked over to Ed, and extended a hand to help him up.
Ed ignored the hand, trying to stand on his own. But his knee was still sore and wobbly. He didn’t trust himself not to fall, or want Luca sapping another couple years from his own life to heal him, again.
Ed looked up at Luca, into the young man’s eyes. There wasn’t judgment. Only friendship, and the genuine offer of help.
Ed took his hand and allowed Luca to help him stand.
Once on his feet, and putting a bit of pressure on his wounded knee to make sure it wouldn’t give, Ed said, “Thank you.”
“No, Mr. Keenan. Thank you.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 1 — Edward Keenan
“Lock the door, and keep them from getting in here,” Ed barked at Boricio and Lisa. Radio Bob was dead, and they’d stepped into an ambush, trapped in the church belfry with enemies advancing below.
They had the firepower for a small engagement, but not enough to hold them off forever — especially if the aliens called for backup. Particularly if they called or attracted the attention of the aliens in the mothership. If Guardsmen in shuttles started appearing, they were done for.
They had to get out of the church, quickly, and retreat.
Boricio and Lisa pressed their bodies against the door in anticipation of having to hold it shut once the aliens made their way up the stairs. Ed looked at the wooden shutters running from floor to roof on all four sides, hoping they weren’t as strong as they appeared. He kicked at the bottom of the closest one.
The shutter didn’t break, but it cracked enough to let him know that if he kept at it, he could get through the belfry windows and lead the team out to the rooftop. It would be quicker to shoot the shutters, but the resulting cacophony would likely shatter their eardrums in such a confined space, so it would be best to break through without shooting.
“I’m going to make a hole, and I want you both to go through.”
Neither was dumb enough to ask what next. Both knew better.
Ed hated leading civilians on missions because they turned into jelly when shit hit the fan. They forgot their training. They asked stupid questions, like “What do we do next?” They often became more of a liability than an asset in the field. Lisa wasn’t a civilian, so he never worried about her. And while Boricio had no military or agency training, he was an experienced killer with instincts as sharp as a hunting knife. Both Boricio and Lisa knew that the plan right now was to be fluid, evaluate and adjust as required by the situation. Right now, their only priority was escaping the belfry.
Ed continued his assault on the shutters. The aliens must’ve heard him downstairs because his sounds were met with clicks, shrieks, and t
he thunderous sound of God knew how many aliens racing up the stairwell. No matter how immovable Boricio and Lisa attempted to be, they’d eventually get overwhelmed, and the door would come crashing down under the weight of a swarming horde.
“Fuckers are comin’ up fast,” Boricio said, as if Ed hadn’t realized.
He kicked harder, faster at the shutters, splinters of wood flying back at him, nearly hitting Ed in the face. He closed his eyes and kept kicking.
The door rattled in its frame, hard, Boricio and Lisa doing their best to keep it in place.
Come on!
The wood finally broke free. He kicked out the wire mesh screen and opened a hole onto the roof.
“Go, go!” Ed called out.
Lisa ran first, sliding to the ground then scrambling out of the hole.
Boricio was still holding the door. Both men knew it would burst open and the aliens would pour in the moment he stepped away.
“I got you.” Ed kneeled beside the hole, raising his AR15 and ready to fire low at the aliens’ legs to fell them.
Boricio nodded then counted.
“One, two, three.”
He scrambled toward Ed.
Boricio had made it halfway to the hole when the door exploded open.
Ed was afraid Boricio would hear the door blow off its hinges then turn, wanting to fight the enemy. But Boricio did as he was told and scurried through the hole.
Aliens loped in, four at once, stopping only long enough to fix their bulbous heads and black hole eyes on Ed.
Their mouths opened, full of flinty razor-sharp teeth, shrieking as one and creating an unholy echo like a knife in his brain.
Ed opened fire, aiming at their legs.
Aliens fell, but were nowhere near dead. The fuckers would crawl on their hands to reach him if he waited long enough. Ed had one hundred rounds in his high capacity magazine, but a hundred rounds went fast when spraying and praying. He couldn’t waste shots killing them when more were already rushing in.
Knowing there was no way to switch magazines before getting overrun, Ed had to plan on how the hell he could get out of the room — there didn’t seem to be a break in the influx of black beasties pouring through the doorway.