by M. C. Sutton
“Emma, I think I’ve…”
“… been here before?” she said without taking her eyes off the valley.
An ATV headed in their direction. As it came closer, Jon saw four men sitting inside.
One of them was former president Saundra.
“Jon,” he said with a smile as the ATV came to a halt in front of them. The four men hopped out. “I’m so glad to see you both made it here safely. Dr. March, you as well, of course,” he added as Sarah stepped out of the truck behind them.
Jon didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure where “here” was.
Saundra took Jon’s hand and pumped it vigorously. He smiled brighter than Jon had seen him smile in years.
“Jon, Emma,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Jon would have thought his behavior out of place if not for the unexplained excitement in his own chest.
“Welcome to Ammon.”
Jon looked at Emma.
She crossed her arms and turned her eyes to the ground.
At Saundra’s request, Jon handed the keys to his truck to the other three men, who would move it to a more “secure” location—whatever that meant. He, Emma, and Sarah then climbed into the ATV with Saundra and rode across the valley. Jon wanted very much to ask Saundra where they were going, but got the impression that none of his questions would be answered until they reached their destination.
Jon couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what that destination might be.
They climbed the opposite side of the valley, then started another descent. Jon noticed a structure in the distance. An old barn rested on the side of the hill.
They headed straight for it.
As Saundra pulled into the barn, the smell of old hay filled Jon’s nose. The ATV came to a halt, but Saundra didn’t get out. He just sat there, as if waiting for something. Or someone.
Jon scanned the barn, noticing the darkness of the loft just above. He suddenly felt as if they were being watched.
Saundra turned off the headlights and flipped on the dome light on the ATV’s roof, then said, “Alons-y.”
“Let’s go?” Jon asked quietly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness. “Go where?”
The floor beneath them started to move.
Jon took in a sharp breath as the ATV descended into the hillside beneath them, with all four of them still in it. He looked back at Emma, who hugged herself tightly, her hand sliding the pendant on her necklace back and forth with surprising vigor.
“Em,” said Jon, reaching back and resting a hand on her leg. Her shallow, rapid breaths echoed off the metal walls of the shaft surrounding them. “Honey, are you okay?”
“She’s fine,” said Saundra. “Give her a moment to get her bearings, she’ll be all right.” He turned to look at her. “Won’t you, Emmy?”
Emma shifted in her seat and dropped her eyes.
“Okay, Saundra,” said Jon. “I think we’ve all had just about enough of the secrecy. Where are we? What’s going on?”
Saundra smiled. “All in good time, my old friend. Soon we’ll be able to tell you everything. Or at least, everything we know.”
Jon felt the air around them change suddenly. It was no longer thick with the musty smell of old hay and dirt, but was instead fresh and clean, most likely piped in through some sort of filtration system. The walls of the shaft transitioned from metal to solid rock.
“How far down does this thing go?” Jon asked.
“As far as it needs to, for our purposes,” Saundra answered.
Saundra’s ambiguity was now borderline annoying. Okay, seriously, Jon was just about to say, when he noticed the soft glow around them brighten. Three walls of the shaft had vanished, and they now looked out across a massive underground bunker filled with people scurrying to and fro. The elevator lowered them to the floor, then stopped.
“Mike!” Sarah shouted. She hopped out of the ATV and ran right past the two armed guards standing beside the platform. She disappeared into a crowd of people, where, sure enough, someone who looked just like Mike was waiting for her.
What in the world would Michael March be doing here?
“Well, Jon,” said Saundra, stepping out of the ATV. “You wanted answers. Are you ready to accept what you’re about to see?”
No, Jon wanted to say, wanted to scream, into the hillside around them. The warmth in his chest had long since given way to an uncomfortable foreboding. If any of those answers involved armed guards and underground bunkers, then he wanted nothing to do with any of it. He’d just as soon take his wife and his truck, turn around, and head straight home.
“Jon,” Saundra said quietly. “It’s now or never.”
Jon looked back at Emma, question in his eyes, and reached for her hand.
It was sweaty and shaking.
She nodded.
“This way, then,” said Saundra.
Jon and Emma stepped out of the ATV and followed Saundra across what looked like some sort of service area. Men and women of all ages and ethnicities went this way and that, pushing dollies, directing forklifts, and staring down at clipboards. Some of them wore military fatigues, though Jon didn’t recognize any of the insignia patches. The uniformed ones saluted Saundra and mumbled Mr. President as they walked by.
“What is all this?” Jon asked.
“We call ourselves The Consortium,” said Saundra. “We’re an international organization, most of us Marked, a handful of us not.”
“You mean like the OGE?”
Saundra stopped in front of a set of double doors. “The Order of the Golden Eagle, the Shen Zi, the Bojownicy o Wolność, the Brotherhood of the Setting Moon, the Sons of the Jadi, they’re all no more than a face for the Marked. A way for us to blend in, to learn and grow, to fellowship, to contribute to the community. This—all of this—is where the real work happens. Here within The Consortium, we have one simple, solitary goal.” He grinned at both Jon and Emma. “To do what we were born to do.”
He pushed through the double doors, and the three of them stepped into a circular room much like the situation room at the emergency management department where Emma worked. Monitors covered the walls, and people sat stationed at desks all around the room, watching the monitors or their own computer screens. In the middle of the room the floor stepped down and was sectioned off by a floor-to-ceiling glass wall with three open entrances. At the center of that area stood a pedestal, and circling that pedestal were six people, including the Marches, the Dallins, and Ephraim.
“Ephraim!” said Jon, stepping around the glass and throwing his arms around him. “We’ve been worried sick about you ever since we left Dallas. Where have you been? By the time I came to see you before we left the hospital, you were already gone.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” said Ephraim. “As soon as Sarah got me all fixed up, I had to take off. Some work I needed to do.”
Saundra and Emma joined them. Emma kept her eyes fixed on the floor. There was a paleness in her cheeks so profound it looked as though she was about to throw up.
Jon took her hand.
“Deputy Grey, pleasure to see you again,” said Saundra.
“Mr. President.” Ephraim saluted him. He turned to Jon and Emma and lowered his voice. “You guys have any idea what this is all about?”
Jon shrugged.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get started, shall we?” said Saundra. He nodded around the room as he made introductions. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Captain Jon Grant and his wife, Dr. Emma Grant. We also welcome Deputy Marshal Ephraim Grey, Professor Michael March and Dr. Sarah March, and Professors Peter and Dianna Godfrey.” As he introduced Peter Godfrey, Saundra nodded toward a tall, curly-haired man with glasses who hurried over from one of the computers by the wall. He put his arm around the redhead standing next to Saundra and shot everyone a toothy grin.
“And last, but not least, we have—”
“Aaron and Rachael,” said Aaron, offering a h
and to Peter and Dianna. “No Professor, or Doctor, or Captain, or Deputy, just Aaron and Rachael.”
The Godfreys both shook his hand.
“Great, we’re all introduced,” said Jon. “So, are you ready to explain to us what in the hell we’re all doing here?”
Saundra turned to Godfrey. “Peter, why don’t you go ahead?”
“Sure,” said Godfrey. “The reason we’re all here…” He stepped up to the pedestal, removed a small brass sphere that was suspended in mid-air just above it, and carried it over to Jon. “… is this.”
Jon stared down at the object in Godfrey’s palm. It had strange markings on it, but otherwise it was just a round chunk of brass, not much bigger than an orange. “It’s a ball.”
“Yes, it is,” said Godfrey. “And it’s the only weapon we have against the GOG.” He held it out to Jon.
Jon glanced around the room. He offered Godfrey an open palm.
Godfrey dropped the ball into Jon’s hand—then waited, as if expecting it to do something. But nothing happened. Godfrey looked back at Saundra.
Saundra nodded.
“The problem,” said Godfrey quietly, his shoulders sinking as he took the ball from Jon, “is that we still don’t seem to know how to open it.”
“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” said Ephraim. “What is this thing supposed to do?”
“Well,” said Godfrey, with a sort of growling nervous laugh that seemed completely out of place, “you see, we don’t actually know.”
“Where did you even get it?” Ephraim asked.
“It was left to us by our ancestors,” said Saundra. “An ancient civilization of people who believed they existed before they were born. And that during that existence, there was a great war that nearly tore their world apart.”
Jon noticed Emma shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
“Their world?” said Ephraim. “And exactly what world is that?”
Saundra put a hand on Ephraim’s shoulder. “Ours,” he answered, nodding around the group.
“Excuse me?”
Saundra pursed his lips together. He turned to Jon and nodded.
Jon took a deep breath. “From what we understand, the world in which we existed before we came here wasn’t much different from this one. We lived, and learned, and loved,” he said, turning to Emma and smiling, “long before the Earth itself was even formed. But then, something… happened.”
Saundra continued from there. “There was a rebel force,” he said. “They called themselves the Kieran, the Darkness. That’s how the war began. Many of us were lost. Most of us weren’t. When it was over, the Darkness was banished to the farthest end of the universe, to the most distant world. We knew, of course, that eventually it would make its way back here. So those of us who were left became guardians, sent to Earth for such a time as when the Darkness would return.”
Ephraim was quiet for a long time before speaking. “So you’re telling me you think that’s what’s going on now? That this Darkness has made its way here, and Bennett is a part of it?”
“No,” everyone answered.
Except for Jon, who said, “Yes.”
“What makes you think Bennett’s one of them, Jon?” Rachael asked. “He’s not even Marked.”
Jon wrinkled his forehead. “Of course he is.”
Saundra and Mike glanced at each other.
No one else said a word.
“Wait. You’re telling me you guys can’t see it?” Jon asked. It was certainly possible. Pushers, who could make you see whatever they wanted you to see, could purposely hide their Mark from others. It made it much easier to Push someone if they didn’t know you were capable of it. But for someone like Jon…
“Are you absolutely certain of this, Jon?” Saundra asked.
Jon narrowed his eyes. “Do you really have to ask?”
“Marked?” said Ephraim. “What does that mean, Marked?”
Jon hated talking about this stuff as it was, but trying to dump all this onto someone like Ephraim, someone he cared about, made him a thousand times more uncomfortable. “It’s how we recognize each other. We’re all born with a Mark that only we can see. One of your kind, they can be under the influence of the Darkness without even knowing it. But for one of us, with what we know and our—” He glanced sideways at Saundra. “—our gifts… Well, let’s just say it makes the choice to cross over much more intentional.”
“And even more dangerous,” Rachael said quietly. “For all of us.”
“One of ‘my kind,’ huh?” said Ephraim. “So what you’re telling me is that the country is about to be taken over by a guy who is something like the Antichrist, right? And I suppose next you’re going to tell me the leader of the Kieran was Satan himself?”
Jon crossed his arms but didn’t answer. This wasn’t at all going the way he had hoped.
Ephraim’s jaw dropped. “Now hold on just a minute…”
“The truth is, young man, we honestly don’t know who he is, or that much about him at all,” said Saundra. “There are countless different beliefs and philosophies spanning the whole of human history, each of which has its own interpretations of good and evil, angels and ancestors, devils and deities. But what you must understand, Deputy, is that we remember very little of our lives and our world before we were born into this one. Most of what we do know has been passed down to us from parent to child, from generation to generation, over thousands of years.”
Ephraim rubbed a hand across his face. “So let me get this straight. You’re going to stand here and try to convince me that ‘my’ world is being taken over by some dark force that almost destroyed ‘yours,’ and you can’t so much as remember something as simple as the dude’s name?”
Saundra bowed his head.
“Torren,” Emma said quietly to the floor.
Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Emma looked up slowly, her face pale, her eyes bloodshot, and looked him straight in the eye. “His name was Torren,” she said, then turned and headed for the door.
Jon stared after her.
“So it’s true, then,” said Ephraim. “Every single one of you has completely lost your mind.”
Jon took Ephraim’s arm and pulled him aside. “Ephraim, look, you believe you have a soul, don’t you? That there’s some part of you that exists outside of human understanding? That we’re not all just random balls of matter floating freely in space, born only to pay taxes and die? That somehow, some way, there has to be something besides just this body and just this life? Like you were meant for something more? And that when your body dies, maybe all the experiences and all the energy and all the consciousness that makes you you will move on? Will keep going?”
Ephraim shrugged. “Yes. I suppose I do.”
“Well, so do we,” said Jon. “Except when our body dies on this world, we don’t just move on. We go home.”
“I’m sorry, Jon, but I don’t think I can take this,” Ephraim said quietly. “I need to get some air.”
“Ephraim, wait, please. Please, don’t. I know this is a lot to handle. Trust me, it was a long, long time before I accepted any of it myself.”
Ephraim narrowed his eyes. “Trust you? Don’t you get it, Jon? I do trust you. I have always trusted you. And God forgive me, I think a part of me may actually believe you. For no other reason than because it’s you! But that’s what eats at me the most about this. I’ve known you and Emmy practically my entire life. Or at least, I thought I did. You’re telling me in all the years that we’ve known each other, and all the conversations we’ve ever had, you couldn’t have once attempted to explain this to me? You had to wait until the entire world—my world—had gone to hell in a handcart?”
Jon looked at the floor. “I am so sorry, E. Usually the only time we’re allowed to tell people who aren’t like us is if they’re family.”
“You and Emmy are my family,” he said, then walked off after Emma.
Jon took a deep breath and ru
bbed a hand across his face.
“Jon,” said Saundra. “I’m afraid there’s more.”
More?
Rachael reached into the bag that hung across her shoulder, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to Jon. Inside were several pictures she had taken while they were in Dallas.
“I told you I was there to snoop around,” she said.
Bennett apparently hadn’t wasted any time in pushing his agenda. Most of the pictures included him privately chatting with other attendees, one of which Jon recognized as the Speaker of the House, who was with Bennett on TV right after the bombing. How’d the Speaker even manage to make it out of the building? As if that wasn’t disturbing enough, one picture included Bennett standing in a corner, talking to a man whose face still haunted Emma’s nightmares.
Mac.
“Mac was working with Bennett?” said Jon. Sam’s friend did tell Jon that Mac had mentioned a list just before gathering up a group of hostages. Jon knew Mac shot a few of them but wasn’t sure what he did with the others. Based on the Speaker’s unexplained survival, he now had a pretty good idea.
“I’m afraid so,” said Saundra. “Up until this time, we had very little evidence that Bennett was Kieran. I mean, we certainly had our suspicions, but…”
Jon came to the very last picture. Another of Stephen Bennett, this time emerging from a pile of rubble at ground zero, where the hotel once stood, his tailored suit torn and covered in pulverized concrete.
He didn’t have a scratch on him.
“Bennett was in the building?” Jon whispered.
Rachael nodded. “I watched him crawl out of that mess myself.”
“Jon,” said Saundra, putting a hand on his shoulder. “There are only three people we know of so far that came out of that bombing alive, and I think we both know how close Emma came to not being one of them.”
Jon’s hand trembled, his vision beginning to blur. There was something about Bennett’s face, covered in dust and smiling, a confidence in his eye that Jon knew he himself would never have.
It completely terrified him.