by Kenny Soward
Still smiling, she reached up to touch her head, mimicking a dumbfounded look. “Is there any more?”
“No. That’s it.”
“Good. Thanks.”
A sudden and annoying fear gripped her. What if her son hadn’t gotten it all? What if she turned around and there was another droplet of blood running down her cheek from her hairline? Maybe not so easy to spot from the seats but it would certainly be visible on every high definition TV across the land. She thought she’d checked herself thoroughly before coming out of the green room. It was just that she’d been distracted by that fucking hill witch.
The little bitch had actually kicked her!
It had been a mistake, really, a whim, that she’d tried to reach Torri at her pool. A nagging suspicion that her old nemesis was trying to wiggle free from her vice. She’d expected to catch the witch trying to escape, in fear for her life.
But as Azarah had looked down into the body cavity of the unfortunate victim that had become her scrying corpse, stirring around the entrails to make her own special looking glass, she’d caught the witch in quite a different frame of mind. Indignant, downright pissed off, and seemingly on a mission.
And then, right as Azarah thought to strike, the hill witch disappeared completely. Off the radar. Gone.
Had she crossed over to Hell to join the ECC in their attempt to sever her tether?
It didn’t matter. Azarah was confident in her defenses. And she had backup plans on top of backup plans. But what about her grandson, this Mardokh? What kind of person was he? What kind of power did he actually wield? Hard to imagine he was competent in the least.
Still, it was an annoying development.
Azarah turned toward the crowd, receiving an upsurge of cheers and whoops and hollers. She raised her hands, wiggling her fingers a bit while soaking it all in. A queen once, back during the rise in the Assyrian dynasty, she’d be a queen once more.
Up to the podium then, her eyes piercing the crowd. Now was not the time for worry or uncertainty. This was the time to be powerful and proud, to let the American people carry her to victory. First, Ohio, then the United States. And then…
Lindsey Walls used her hands to try and settle the crowd down, but they wouldn’t. The cheering kept on for another thirty seconds or more, and she could feel the power like a drum in her head. Another attempt to calm the people with some “Thank yous!” started to do the trick, and finally the crowd relented.
The seconds ticked by as Lindsey looked down at the tablet she’d prepped with all her notes. They weren’t entirely necessary, she knew her speeches by heart, but they gave her some reassurance that even if she got caught up in the moment it wouldn’t be hard to find her place again.
And then she began.
“Citizens of Cleveland, Ohio. My fellow Americans.”
Short bursts of hoots.
“We’re here today to talk about progress. We’re here today to talk about what we need to do to bring America back from the inevitable brink.”
Lindsey paused then, smiling out at the crowd. Particularly proud of this next little piece which she’d come up with all on her own. “You’ve heard of the Roman Empire, right? You’ve heard of their invincible armies, their wise leaders, and their progressive society, which not only capitalized on opportunities to attain greatness but sustained that greatness by balancing old values with new wisdoms. And now, that’s all in our history books. But why did they fail?”
Several shouts rang out, but it was clear no one really knew. Neither did Azarah, not truly, but it didn’t matter.
“They failed because they came to a day very similar to today—this day—and they failed to act. Yes, that’s right. They came to a place in time where they could have continued the progress of the most amazing society this world has ever seen, or sent it down the road to disaster.” She allowed the silence to linger before continuing. “Today is that day for us. It is the day when things come to a head. When the people of this great country won’t let what happened to those Romans happen to America.”
Azarah let the applause rise and fall.
“This is the defining moment when we all must put aside our differences to do what’s right. This is the moment when—”
She stopped mid-sentence, brought to a screeching halt by something that had just wrenched at her core. A quick and disquieting tug that had taken just a little bit of her breath away. Like indigestion, or a sudden bubble of air trapped in her stomach, it come up like a belch.
It felt like the start of something very, very wrong.
Chapter 28
The C4 detonations went off in perfect syncopation, their controlled explosions ripping into both ends of the machine and sending a jolt through the rock to Lonnie’s feet where the group waited safely outside the structure.
“Okay, scout team. You’re up again.”
Patty and Tuck charged back into the black temple and disappeared down the left hand passage once more. There was a moment of steady breathing through the headsets until Tuck came back with an all clear in the tunnels.
“Everything stable?”
“Yeah. Not a single structural crack in the building that I could see. The machines are still running. I can see the tether through the cloud of dust. It’s still up.”
“Damn. Hang tight.” And then to the remaining seven waiting out side. “Same team as before. And let’s move quickly. I have a feeling we’re short on time. You okay out here, Yu?”
“Affirmative, Commander. Nothing happening out here but the sunset… Well, suns-set.”
Lonnie left his mask hanging, still enjoying Hell’s atmosphere. He gripped his rifle and followed close behind Alex, who followed Bess. Elsa and Jeff were right on his heels. They were hoofing it, nearly a dead run to get there, their focus tight and aware, time already turning them into an efficient kill team.
And all that about being short on time was an understatement as far as Lonnie was concerned. With no one listening on the other side, who knew what they had to come home to? Best case, Torri had won out. Worst case, a slaughter on the hill, or they might not even make it home to find out. By now Azarah would certainly be aware something was happening on this side of her tether. He just hoped Missy Gray and her protesters could keep Azarah occupied until they could destroy it completely.
Every second counted.
At the end of the tunnel, they peered inside.
Tuck had been right. A fine layer of dust hung in the air. Nothing debilitating, though, although he could see it starting to cover his goggles. He wiped his finger across them, clearing his view for the moment.
Lonnie’s stomach dropped. The tether still hung there thrumming, yet Lonnie thought he could make out a slight weakening of its pulse, barely perceptible in the haze.
“How’s it going, Tuck? Patty?”
“Checking the detonation spots now. Sorry, Cap. Looks like there was very little to no damage. I mean, some scarring up the sides but other than that, nada.”
“Look at the pulse though,” Lonnie said. “It’s a little weaker. Not by much.”
Bess’s head turned toward them. “Another try?”
“Couldn’t hurt. This time, everything we have left.”
“All right. Let’s go get the rest of the charges. Let’s just hope we don’t need to go back to Earth for some serious TNT. By that time, Azarah would be putting her backup plan into action.”
Lonnie agreed. “I was just thinking the same thing—”
Tuck and Patty screamed into their microphones almost simultaneously. Their masks gave the sounds an eerie muted quality, like they were screaming from inside a box.
MP5 fire ripped through the chamber. The assault team pulled back as bullets flew everywhere. The sounds of pounding echoed in the chamber, like a mallet hitting something wet. The MP5 fire stopped immediately after the first of those sickening sounds.
And then even the sickening sounds stopped, replaced with a low moan. Something alive in her
e. Something big.
“Tuck. Betty. Report.”
No response.
Bess asked again, and then again. Each time her voice rose with insistence, as if she could will them to respond.
“They’re not going to report,” Lonnie said glumly, “because they’re dead.”
Bess stopped asking for the report and then just knelt on the dusty, black stone. Alex knelt next to her, laying his arm across her shoulders.
“Any more volunteers? I hear they’re offering overtime for this part,” Jeff said, still snarky although his voice shook with emotion.
“You ever shut up?” Elsa half-turned.
Jeff replied without a hint of fear. “Only when I have to. Talking helps lower my stress level, and levity is the best medicine. My psychologist told me that.”
“Shut up, dearie.”
“You’re not my commander.”
“I’ll eat your lips.”
“Okay then.”
“Hey,” Lonnie said, looking uneasily at Bess, who still hadn’t gotten up.
The commander’s goggles turned up to him. “What got them, Lonnie? Any idea?”
“Could be some sort of guardian. Something woken up by our C4 charges.”
Bess nodded weakly, and Lonnie saw her resolve eroding by small degrees. “Any ideas how we can handle it?”
Lonnie peered into the dust, eyes searching for any hint of movement. When there was none, he set his gun down and stripped off his goggles. Then he unfastened the rubbery middle of his body armor and removed the top part, lifting it completely over his head and dropping it on the floor. He left his mask hanging around his neck so he could maintain communication.
He flexed his hands and saw the runes pulsing along his skin.
“Elsa, come with me.”
“Am I getting overtime?” The whorchal snarked.
“Sure.”
The two stalked further in, left along the wall, each moment expecting something horrific to come barreling out of the gloom at him.
The machines continued to churn. The tether continued to pulse.
They’d gotten to the end of the chamber near one of the first machines when Elsa lay her hand on his shoulder and pointed up. “Look there. I see it.”
Lonnie squinted, his eyes clearly not as good as the whorchal’s. But there, up high. Yes, he could see them. What looked like tentacles waving around in the murky, dusty air. Each one was easily as wide as his arm at the tapered ends. Hard to imagine how thick the parts were they couldn’t see.
“Yeah, I see them.”
Alex’s gruff voice came through Lonnie’s ear piece. “What is it?”
“Looks like a nest of tentacles.”
“Like an octopus?”
“Sorta, yeah. I can’t see all of them, but moving in now to get a better look. It’s definitely some sort of guardian.”
Lonnie pressed ahead as quietly as he could, his eyes aching as they tried to penetrate the haze. The sound of the tether pulsed in his head. Sweat stung his eyes. He held his hands poised together in case he needed to use them to create a sweep.
Something slithered along the floor near his feet.
Lonnie froze in place, eyes sliding down to see what it was. It was a tentacle made of tarnished segments of overlapping metal.
“Some sort of gorework mechanic,” Lonnie whispered.
“What’s that?” Bess said.
“A machine similar to the ones in Xester’s bowels, made to do simple repairs. Ours were pretty small compared to this one. This one is huge.”
“Can we kill it?”
Lonnie shook his head. “Might be able to do something with that big ax Alex has. I doubt bullets are going to do it much harm.”
Lonnie brushed his fingers across the top of his left hand, drawing some defensive power to his arm, surprised at how easily it came. And it held its strength, waning just slightly as the seconds ticked past. It was like battery-less flashlight. He just had to turn the handle every now and again to keep it charged.
Creeping forward, keeping pace with the retracting limb, Lonnie peered back and forth from it to the gloom, hoping to get a better idea of how to proceed.
His foot bumped something. He kicked out a little bit and felt a long object in front of him. A shadow, really. But then a clear space opened in the drifting dust, and he saw what was left of one of the scout’s bodies. It appeared they’d been lifted and smashed into the floor several times. Lonnie noticed pieces all around now. Part of a face mask with some of the face still left in it. An arm right over there. The top half of the person was just pulp with a spine sticking through its center.
“I found someone,” he whispered. “Can’t tell if it’s Tuck or Patty, though. Moving forward.”
Lonnie brushed his fingers across his hand again. His arm tingled with power now, muscles swelling like a bodybuilder.
Three more paces, and two tentacles slid silently from the dust, the tips of them twisting and moving like worms as they swiped at his belly.
Lonnie slid deftly to the left, and then forward, slipping past the probing limbs while looking up and around the shadow of the machine. He counted other limbs branching and reaching out, feeling, machine sensors fully activated now and driven by some insentient need to kill.
“I’m stepping back. There’s too many.”
Something brushed his leg and slid back in his direction, but he was too quick for it, avoiding the swiping tentacle. He bumped into Elsa as he tried to backpedal, and they almost went down together. The tentacles became more agitated, starting to swipe back and forth in an effort to find something else to smash.
“Shit.”
“What is it Lonnie? Do you need an assist?”
“I don’t…ahg!” Lonnie leaned to his right in time to catch a downward swiping tentacle on his shoulder. It wasn’t meant to be a killing blow, fortunately, and that’s probably what saved him. But as soon as the thing felt him, it instantly coiled, the end wrapping around Lonnie’s waist even as Lonnie threw his arm over it to lock it tight against his neck. It tried to jerk him forward, but his power spread to his feet to keep him rooted to the spot, his entire body as solid as the trunk of Torri’s Rowan tree back on the hill.
It could not move him. It could not squeeze him.
The metal tentacle creaked and groaned as it tried.
Lonnie growled. Cursed. He could hear the others trying to reach him through his earpiece, but all he could focus on was holding this creature in place.
One problem. What the fuck was he going to do with it now?
Groaning with the effort, he locked down the arm tighter. Took a step back, then another. Tried to squeeze it and snap it in two, or at least disable it somehow. The metal squealed again, and he thought he might just pull it off, but then two more tendrils shot out, wrapping around his legs, trying to rip him apart.
“Elsa,” He called. And she was there, pulling and prying to free his legs. But she was more attuned to speed and agility, not brute strength, and she couldn’t budge the tentacle at all.
The pressure around his waist increased. His breath came in gasps.
He slammed his fist down as hard as he could against the segmented metal, imagining it was a mallet.
Crack…crack…
And then a huge blade sliced through the air and cleaved the spot Lonnie had been hammering. The tentacle split at one of the segments, bursting with tiny metal fragments and dousing him with steaming bloodoil.
Alex drew back the ax again and swung down, this time severing the tentacle through.
The big man started to hammer at the other two tentacles, but they released Lonnie and quickly drew away.
“Thanks,” Lonnie said, his voice nearly a growl as he unwound the dead tentacle from his waist, the rest of it slithering back into the gloom, leaving behind a trail of crimson.
“Hold on!” That was Bess, quickly followed by a prolonged burst of MP5 fire, an entire clip released in a matter of seconds. And the
n, “I’m coming to you.”
“No!” Lonnie focused on staying rooted until Alex could sever the other two limbs with that ax of his. “We’re coming back to you.”
“Okay,” Bess said. “We’ll stay at the archway.”
Alex, tearing the last tentacle away, leaned in. “You catch, I cut?”
Lonnie nodded, crouching and sweeping as he made his way back toward Bess and Jeff.
A tentacle swooped in from the left, this time with no intention of capturing. No, it wanted to smash them to pieces.
Lonnie turned and caught it, Elsa and Alex leaping back to avoid being struck by its whip-like tail, already wrapping itself around Lonnie, who drew his arms in and made himself as hard as a trunk again.
He was an oak. A steel fucking oak.
And then Alex was at it again, arms flexing as he brought the ax down again and again, so violently Lonnie felt the percussion through is limbs. He was free in a handful of seconds.
He noticed his body turning raw and tired, a consequence of focusing so much of his power into his frail flesh.
They reached the safety of the wall, where the tentacles seemed unwilling or unable to go. The team moved along it with their eyes peeled against the haze. The machine guardian’s arms waved and slunk around, twisting and slapping fervently at the ground where they’d been standing. One arm found the body of the dead commando, picked it up, and tossed it to the side where it landed with a meaty thunk.
“It’s really pissed off,” Jeff said, as they made it to the alcove where Bess and the medic were waiting.
“It’s blind. It can feel our vibrations but can’t really see us.” Alex seemed to be the most eager to get back into the fray, to take on the machine and kill every damn one of those arms until there was nothing left. “Let’s go back in.”
Lonnie gave a quick shake of his head. “We just got our asses handed to us.”
“Sorry, man, but I disagree. We can take it down. One arm at a time.”
“I don’t think so.” Lonnie held his hands up to show everyone they were shaking. Yes, using his power was taking a terrible toll on him. He hadn’t used it this way in probably centuries. “I’m wearing pretty thin.”