Surrogacy

by Rob Horner

  And there I stood, indecisive, torn between doing what needed to be done and my desire to be a part of the next logical step, though none of them knew what that step was yet.

  “Angie,” I yelled, “take my hand.”

  “What? Why?” she called back. She was standing next to Gina, using her power to strengthen the shield wall.

  Brilliant blue and white lightning shot out from James, hitting nothing but coruscating down the fourth hallway, forcing the advancing police back against the walls.

  Other streaks of light flew from Bradley’s hands, drawing blood if they hit a Dra’Gal, but otherwise having no visible effect on wood, brick, or tile.

  More gunshots sounded, this time from the direction of the double doors leading out. The glass shattered, letting in a stream of sunlight quickly blocked by the shadows of police moving into position.

  Chris stood between us and the doors, as normal looking as ever but as bullet-proof as the legendary Man of Steel, if the sound of rounds ricocheting away with high-pitched whines and pings was any indication.

  “I’m here, dude,” Jason said, grabbing one of my hands.

  “Me too,” Danielle added, coming up on the other side. “What do you need?”

  A small ball, about the size of one of those Super-Bouncy balls they sell in the quarter-machines, rolled along the floor, between Chris’s legs…

  “Dude, not so close to the fun factory!”

  …and out through the broken double doors.

  A second later an explosion lit up the doorframe, sending a shockwave inside that caused several of us to stumble. A dying police officer flew into the mall from outside, landing facedown—mercifully—on the floor, back literally torn to shreds by the force of the explosion.

  “Sorry,” Scott said. “Detonated it a little too close.”

  “Put your hands on my back and give me your power the same way you do Gina,” I said, not knowing if it would work, but desperate for something that might help me stay awake through the next step.

  Because everyone else was right.

  No matter what happened next, this had to be done.

  More gunshots and a scream of pain nearby, but my mind was finally clear. My doubts were gone.

  The power built inside of me, growing much faster than it had before. I poured my anger at the Dra’Gal into the power, fed it my fears, those brought on by my dreams and the ones created by the monsters when they attacked. I felt the Jason’s and Danielle’s hands on my back like miniature heaters, and I drew from them, pulled on their power, and felt my body come alive with light. I stoked the power coursing through me, filling every part of me, trying to focus it into my hands like I did in the Distilling Room.

  My hands glowed brighter than Gina’s wall when I gave myself to it, brighter than Tanya did in Crystal’s sight when she used her power. The white light in my hands became impossible to look at, the power within me became impossible to hold onto.

  “Hurry!” someone shouted as another scream of pain rang out.

  Gunshots exploded from in front of me, the soldiers doing their duty and standing tall in the face of the SWAT team’s return fire.

  Raymond’s head snapped backward, a bloody hole prominent in the center of his forehead, his body already falling.

  I brought my hands together.

  And the dam broke.

  The hands on my back steadied me, kept me from falling away like the last time, so I could see…

  Light so bright that each individual photon stood out in stark relief like the motes of dust kicked up in a sunny hallway blossomed from my hands, seeming to stand still for just long enough that their beauty could be permanently etched into memory, a moment of brilliant perfection while the world waited, breathless.

  Then they streaked away in every direction, a million million tiny suns, expanding outward in a ring like the computer-generated images often used to simulate the explosion of a star.

  The effect was soundless and yet all sound ceased, as if the movement of so much light somehow eclipsed hearing, perfect beauty drawing chaos away and leaving serene silence in its wake.

  “It’s gone,” Angie whispered, awed.

  “What is?” Jason asked.

  “It’s all gone,” she said again, and she was smiling and crying at the same time, spinning in a slow circle to take in the entirety of the mall. “All the red is gone.”

  “Are the cops down?” Fish asked. “I’m going to send Jeff in to start extracting—”

  “No,” I said as forcefully as I could. I hadn’t passed out this time, which was a blessing. But my knees felt weak. Danielle and Jason moved their hands from my back to my arms, ostensibly supporting me. From the drag I felt on either side it was obvious whatever they’d done to help had drained them as well.

  “After the last time—” Iz started to say, but I pushed on, unwilling to be talked out of my decision.

  “This is what the dream meant,” I said. “This is what starts the next phase.”

  “What dream?” Jason asked.

  “Okay, and we’ll be ready for it,” Fish said.

  “No, there’s another way.”

  Bart knelt next to Raymond, shaking hands reaching to close the staring eyes of the dead soldier.

  “If we purge all the cops, they won’t come to attack us,” I said.

  Angie moved from Gina’s side over to Michael, who nursed a bleeding arm. “It’s nothing,” the ginger-haired man said. “Go help Bradley.” He waved to a spot behind me with his good arm.

  Spinning in place, I saw Bradley standing three or four feet behind me. He stood for a moment like he didn’t understand what had happened to him. Then he sank to his knees as Angie moved to his side. His lean face was pale. His hands moved slowly to the hem of his shirt. Angie hissed when he raised the fabric, revealing a mess of blood pouring out of a hole in his abdomen.

  “Jeff, food court, now!” she said.

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” he asked.

  “It’s too much for me to handle,” the older blond answered. “But Ricardo can fix it.”

  Jeff appeared in the center of the court, already turning to get his bearings and find where he was needed.

  “Take him to Ricky,” Angie said.

  “God no,” Bradley whispered. “Already hurts enough without you—”

  They disappeared in a flash of light.

  “I don’t like this,” Fish said.

  “No, but it’s a good idea, and one we should have thought of,” Iz replied.

  “I’ll bet that’s where the other van is too,” Gina said, reminding us why we’d come to the mall in the first place.

  “Every cop in my dream was from Virginia Beach,” I said, pulling my arms gently away from Danielle and Jason. I was feeling better, though it was doubtful that I’d have the strength to do something else like that massive purge again anytime soon.

  “Brian,” Iz began, “you’re going to have to go back to Mandatum with Jeff and these other officers.”

  “But—”

  Iz held up a hand. “I know you want to be here, but you’re the only one who’ll be able to convince them we’re the good guys when they wake up. Especially if they’re from your precinct.”

  “I…all right.”

  “So, I need you to tell me how many precincts there are, and where they’re located. Michael, let Angie fix you up or you’re going back with everyone else.”

  This time the redhead allowed the older woman to place her hands on his arm.

  A light flashed in Brian’s hands, revealing a notepad and pen. He scribbled for a few minutes, then tore off the top sheet and handed it to Iz.

  “Fish, you’re going back with Brian too.”

  “Now wait a—”

  “You’ve risked enough coming out here with us, and I won’t have the one Quin I trust getting killed for no reason.”

  Heads began poking out of stores, voices calling back and forth, wondering if the shooting was over. Gla
ss crunched as shoes trampled shards that used to be a part of full displays just a few moments before.

  Jeff returned with a pop of displaced air and immediately ran to the shattered doors. A few seconds later he was back, again appearing out of nothing in the center of the food court. Without hesitation he turned and ran back through the doors to the outside.

  “Everyone else,” Iz said, “follow me.”

  Chapter 19

  Taking back the city

  We waited long enough for Jeff to finish transporting the unconscious police officers, Fish, and Brian back to Mandatum before loading up the vans and heading north on Independence Boulevard to our first stop.

  The 3rd Precinct of the Virginia Beach Police Department was a nondescript, low, brick building with a flagpole out front and public parking on the left side. Its facade gave the appearance of a small station, but it was a lot longer than it appeared, with the bulk of the building extending back and away from the road.

  With input from Brian coming in a steady stream through the Port-Comms, we had our plans made before we got close to the building. Some of us, like myself and Danielle, were as much liability as benefit. The Dra’Gal had a special hatred for us. It was a toss-up which one of us they hated more.

  None of us were safe. Not anymore. Even though I’d purged every demon in the mall, it wouldn’t change what the monsters had seen before being rendered unconscious. Every set of Dra’Gal eyes was a transmitter for every other alien. What one saw, all could tap into. We had to assume that everyone in our group was now as well-known as Ronald Reagan and would come under immediate assault if seen.

  Just a few days before, the Dra’Gal were content to Manifest, then use their superior size, strength, and speed when attacking. Something had changed, at least with the police, and they were now more likely to remain in human form and use firearms against us.

  That kind of change couldn’t be a good thing.

  “They’re learning from their human hosts,” Fish explained. “It happened with my people too, only much more slowly. Because of their mental network, they tend to live in and within each other’s consciousness, ignoring the subjugated minds of their hosts unless some vital piece of information is needed. There is a pride in their ability to dominate, which leads to a distinct lack of respect for the races they’ve conquered.”

  “So, we have to be smarter than them?” Iz asked.

  “Yes,” Fish replied in our ears. “Which means you’re doomed, Iz.”

  The humor was a welcome distraction, pulling me from my doubts and concerns as the vans parked a block away.

  “Don’t forget the two biggest advantages you have,” Brian said. “Their numbers are depleted. And they don’t know you’re coming.”

  “We’ve got Iz, too,” Chris said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Iz asked gruffly.

  “You’re uglier than a roadkill Dra’Gal rotting in the sun,” Chris replied, his voice dropping into a passable southern drawl. “No way they ain’t scared of you.”

  Brian’s assessment turned out to be accurate. Every Dra’Gal we’d faced at the mall appeared to have come from this one precinct. With the need to “Protect and Serve” disregarded, the aliens didn’t care if there were enough police left to patrol the streets or respond to calls for help.

  Iz described it as battlefield rather than police tactics. The forces at one station could be considered a troop of soldiers. If you moved a troop, you moved the whole troop. While there were exceptions, you didn’t routinely pull from multiple troops to make a new force.

  No one opened fire on us as we approached.

  Jason tore through the building as fast as only he could. He reported a single police officer in the building and several people locked in a holding cell.

  “Why would the Dra’Gal hold people in a cell?” James asked. “Why not just convert them and be done with it?”

  With Chris in front ready to be our shield and James and Michael walking on either side, we progressed through the police station at a slow pace, step by step and room by room. It wasn’t that anyone doubted Jason’s reconnaissance; Iz wasn’t going to take any more risks than necessary.

  The single Dra’Gal left in the building occupied the captain’s office, which was surrounded by thick glass that gave a view of the bullpen. He charged as we approached, transforming as he came, bursting through the glass. Before we could set our feet, he was down, twitching from a blast of James’ lightning, features already melting back into those of a human. I waited until the last vestiges of green tint left his skin, then banished the Dra’Gal inside.

  “I don’t see any red anywhere,” Angelica reported. “No other Dra’Gal. None of those statues or bracelets or anything.”

  “Maybe that’s why they have prisoners downstairs,” Gina offered. “If they’re out of statues, they can’t convert more people.”

  “After what we saw at the mall, you’d think they could just pick up a few items and bring them back here,” James said.

  “Maybe they don’t think that way,” Gina replied.

  Despite Angie’s assertion that no more Dra’Gal remained, Iz kept us to a slow crawl through the rest of the main floor and the upstairs before finally gathering us at the stairway down to the basement.

  “There is an elevator, ya know?” Chris remarked.

  “Death traps,” Iz replied.

  The staircase was wide, not a descent into a basement but a broad corridor into another active part of the station, well-lit and clean. The walls went from bureaucratic office decor to prison/public school stone blocks—you remember those, with the cigarette-smoke-stained yellow tint and little pockmarks like miniature craters--but otherwise nothing changed. Four double cells greeted us at the bottom of the stairs, small squares with bunk beds, a sink and a toilet, and nothing else. All four cells were empty.

  A right turn led past the cells to a much larger room with a single sliding door, the holding cell. Inside were thirteen people, a mixed hodge-podge of male and female, young and old, black and white.

  “Damn, it took you long enough!” one of the men said, jumping up from his place on a long, low bench and approaching the door.

  “You okay, Billy?” Iz asked.

  Billy was the driver of the van that disappeared while taking the purged people out of the Distilling Room. He looked like the other soldiers, well-built with short-cut hair, wearing the dark-colored clothes. He was a little older than Little Jack and younger than Raymond.

  “They’re clean,” Angie reported.

  “Find the van,” Iz said to Jason, who sped off, racing back up and through the station.

  James went to work on the door, using his electrical power to over-charge the magnetic lock holding it closed.

  “What happened, Billy?” Iz asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crackle and pops.

  “I got lazy,” the soldier said. “You know how it is. Make a couple-three runs to different spots. Don’t see no sign of trouble. So, I started the loop over again. Wouldn’t ya know it, the damn po-leece were waiting for us.”

  “Uh huh,” Iz replied. “You guys see any Dra’Gal?”

  A loud sizzle sounded as electricity arced across the metal plates connecting the door to the jamb, and suddenly the barrier was gone, the door sliding back along its track.

  “What was that?” a querulous voice asked from within the room.

  “Be careful what you say,” Gina cautioned in my ear. “The people inside will have been told as little as possible.”

  “No Dra’Gal,” Billy said, “but those cops were acting mighty off. Never saw them use a radio once.”

  Iz reached into a belt pouch, producing another Port-Comm for Billy.

  “Listen up, Billy.”

  “Oh hey, Fish.”

  “Jason found your van in the back. You’re going to load everyone up and head back to Pembroke Mall. It’s been cleared of Dra’Gal, and we’ve got a couple of guys on the roof watching t
o make sure no other police get in the way.”

  “Were the police—”

  “Yes. That entire precinct was compromised.”

  “I wondered why we weren’t converted,” Billy stage whispered.

  “The going theory is they were out of statues,” Fish replied. “We don’t know enough to be sure of that, though.”

  “Well, all right then. You sure the mall is safe?”

  “As safe as anyplace is. Get that load to the mall, then return to Mandatum for more. We’ll have another van ready to join you, start moving these people a lot faster.”

  “Roger that.”

  We headed south from the 3rd Precinct to the 4th, a long, low brick structure on Kempsville Road that looked more like a church than a state-owned police building. They were expecting us. Rows of infected police officers stood in loose ranks outside. We saw them early enough to stop and form up a line of our own. They began firing as we got closer, semi-automatic rifles resting on the tops of linked riot shields.

  We approached behind a shield of our own, powered by Gina and souped up by Angie and James.

  Chris stayed in front of me, hopefully blocking me from their view, while Danielle and Scott stood behind me, their hands on my back, flooding me with their energy.

  Communication came to an end as the air filled with the loud cracks of military assault rifles and shotguns. Grenades exploded with concussive blasts, peppering us with gravel and metal shrapnel, though nothing that could penetrate Gina’s shield. We stopped in front of the building, only a few yards away from the closest row of police, and I went nova.

  I woke up sprawled on my back, Danielle and Scott both unconscious under me. The police were down, and the precinct was clear, according to Angie, but it was the last time I’d be doing that particular trick for a while.

  We couldn’t stop now. If we hadn’t pissed off the police by defeating them at the mall, our blatant assault on two different precincts should have. We had two more precincts to cleanse, though I was grateful for the wait while Jeff teleported the police two by two back to Mandatum. It was a nice ability, to be able to purge a large area at once, but it was more costly in energy than just running through and manually getting the job done.