“So we can’t talk you out of this?” Paige asks with genuine sincerity.
Dia stares back and replies with an eerie stillness to her voice. “If that was your big plan today, to talk me out of this, then I’m sorry to disappoint you. But you can’t ask me to give up my destiny any more than you can ask a hurricane to spare a town in its path.”
Paige has nothing left to say. She pulls the metal case off the ground and lays it on the flat surface of a waist-high gravestone, typing in the security code. She presses her thumb into the tiny touch screen and the lid hisses open, revealing the transparent crystal tablet embedded into the foam casing.
Dia studies the object for a moment, and then glances back at her sister. “What the hell is this?”
“Akashic,” Paige replies flatly. “You asked for The Compendium, and now you have it.”
Dia blurts out a raucous laugh. “Oh my god Paige, are you becoming a shitty liar. There is no way that this is The Compendium.” She smiles and shakes her head. “We had a feeling that you’d try to pull something like this, so we’re going to initiate our back-up plan.”
“And what’s that?” Cole asks before he can think the question through.
“We detain the two of you and keep you for interrogation. Then we kill everyone who tries to stop us.” Dia looks around, motioning to the surrounding trees with both hands. “I’m sure that your ragtag group of idiots and drug addicts are watching right now, probably waiting to spring their brilliant trap. Did you manage to sucker anyone else into joining your little gang, or did you have a hard time convincing a stranger to commit suicide?”
Cole shrugs. “No, the convincing part was actually pretty easy...that’s kind of his thing.”
“Enough of this.” Dia replies without missing a beat. She jerks her sleeve back and jabs a finger into a small button on her watch. “Initiating code black,” she shouts into the device. “Move everyone in for extraction.”
He barely allows her to finish her sentence. Cole lunges at one of her guards and twists his head like a corkscrew, snapping his neck. Before the soldier’s corpse splashes into the wet grass below, Cole sprints towards the second man, disarms him, and tosses his body into a gravestone a hundred feet away, crushing it under his weight.
“You’ve learned some new moves,” Dia says, “But so have I.” She extends her palm and it brightens with energy. A white-hot pulse of pure electricity blasts from her hand and slams Cole in the chest. The tines of lightning wrap around his body as he spirals backwards, halfway across the graveyard, out of view.
Paige steps on the gravestone in front of her and leaps through the air, kicking Dia in the face. She unloads with a pair of stinging punches that crack her sister’s jaw, but Dia catches the third one and tosses Paige to the ground.
Dia rubs her bruised cheekbone. “Not bad,” she replies with a hint of admiration, “but as always, you’ve underestimated me.” Her eyes flare and she starts to elevate, rising ten feet above the ground.
Paige looks up in disbelief. Dia has regained the power – all of the power – that she possessed in the future. Whether the General is able to finish his new Large Hadron Collider or not, it’s just a matter of time before she figures out the truth: that she can tear open a portal through time without an external power source. And then the General wins.
A bolt of energy rockets towards Paige and she rolls to avoid it, leaving a scorched hole gouged in the earth beside her. She stumbles back to her feet but can’t avoid Dia, who sails downward and tackles her to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Impudent
New Orleans, Louisiana | January 28, 2012 | 1:46 pm, Central Standard Time
Brodie and Trent crouch in the darkness of a mausoleum, peering out through the rusted gates. From their vantage point they can see a number of Federation soldiers milling about just inside the perimeter of the fence, but there isn’t a lot of activity. As per their instructions, they’re holding their position until they receive the signal.
Behind them in the cramped quarters is Amber, looking not unlike a freshly deceased cheerleader, wandering listlessly back and forth as she twirls her copper ponytail around her finger.
“Is she okay?” Brodie asks, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Trent replies. “She’s kind of in ‘sleep mode’ right now. I’ll turn her on when we need her.”
Having witnessed some disturbing things in the last few years, Brodie is fairly certain that seeing the corpse of a young girl being psychically manipulated like a life-sized doll might actually be the creepiest.
“Brodie,” Trent says, nudging his arm. “Tell me everything, man. What have you been up to? I remember we had some good times back in school. I wish you’d stuck around – Cayden and Brody keep asking about you, and—”
“This is it,” Brodie interrupts. He points towards the fence and notices some sudden movement. “It’s time to get crazy.”
“Oh man,” Trent replies with excitement in his voice, rubbing his hands together like a sugar-shocked child at a birthday party. “This is going to be sick. I haven’t injected myself with a mysterious drug in almost a week.” He pops the protective cap off the syringe and levels it over his bicep, tapping his arm a few times in search of a vein.
“Remember, “ Brodie says, leaning towards Trent, “we need you at full power; the primer you’re injecting will get you started, and when I give you the signal, use your gauntlet by typing in your pass code. Save that until last, okay?”
Trent replies with an excited nod.
Brodie notices the perimeter rapidly shrinking as the soldiers close in on the graveyard’s core, and additional reinforcements seem to appear of out nowhere. Cole and Paige are about to be outnumbered twenty-to-one. “Shit,” he shouts, “they’re running out of time. We’re going to have to do our plan, only faster.” Brodie types the code into his gauntlet, injecting the potent green liquid into his bloodstream. The new and improved Plan B serum hits him harder than he’d anticipated; Brodie sways backward, nearly toppling over from the head rush.
Trent reaches out and grabs his arm for support, keeping his friend from collapsing to the ground. “Damn, you okay Hamilton?”
His pupils appear to burst like crimson fireworks and pillars of black smoke rise from beneath his eyelids. “Never better.”
***
The soldiers in black Federation armor assume they’re hearing another thunderclap resonate from overhead, but oddly, the ground beneath them is rocked by a tremor. The doors from every mausoleum force themselves open, and the lid from every sarcophagus levitates in the air, surrounded by a thick red haze. Hundreds of concrete slabs float upward as if they’re sheets of paper caught in the powerful winds of the hurricane. They suddenly fall, smashing to pieces.
Every guard stops to observe the phenomena, but the floating casket lids are not the disconcerting part; the feeling of shock and disbelief beings to set in when the occupant of each grave crawl from their resting place.
The soldiers level their weapons and open fire from every angle, blasting chunks of the decaying bodies away with each direct hit. The dead continue to amble forward, unfazed.
Realizing that firearms are nearly useless, the soldiers relinquish their weapons and begin to fight back using their superhuman abilities.
The scene is chaotic.
A soldier removes his gauntlets and a dark, oily liquid pours from his fingertips, coating several zombies in the process. They begin to sizzle and melt while they stumble forward, their flesh being eaten away by the corrosive fluid.
Other soldiers are not so fortunate.
A pyrokinetic lights a fire that blazes across the grass, igniting several of the walking dead in mid-stride. The flaming corpses continue to attack as if nothing had happened, wrapping their arms around the soldier and drag him to the ground. They tear relentlessly at his helmet until they remove it, and begin to gnaw at his face with their remaining teeth.
***
“I thought you said that only fictional zombies tried to eat brains?” Brodie asks, peering out the side of the mausoleum’s stained glass window.
Trent shrugs. “That’s true, but technically they’re just rotting meat puppets, so I can make them do whatever I want. I figured it would freak the bad guys out of the dead started biting their necks and faces.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Bromide
New Orleans, Louisiana | January 28, 2012 | 1:41 pm, Central Standard Time
Cole regains his senses and stumbles to his feet, still shocked at Dia’s newfound power. He’s alone on the far side of the cemetery, unaware of where the rest of the group is located. Standing in a walkway that separates two columns of tombs, he barely has time to register the sight of headlights flooding his vision through the heavy rain.
A military Hummer’s steel grill crushes his ribcage, racing at ninety miles per hour.
He rolls and bounces down the concrete path. Bones break. Skin tears. His skull bounces violently during the fall.
A moment later Cole lifts his head and squints through the storm at a man making his way out of the driver’s side door.
“Mister Cole,” the General shouts. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Sprezzatura
New Orleans, Louisiana | January 28, 2012 | 1:41 pm, Central Standard Time
Dia slams her fist into Paige’s temple, jarring her equilibrium. She topples, and the back of her head catches the edge of a gravestone as she falls.
With her sister temporarily disabled, Dia takes the opportunity to attack. While she lunges forward to strike, Paige kicks her feet in the air, catching her in the chin with a pair of combat boots.
They both take a moment to recover and scramble to their feet.
Dia wipes the blood from her mouth, dragging a crimson streak across her forearm. She runs her tongue across the small laceration. “Nice shot, sis – but that was just round one. Let’s turn this up a notch.” Her eyes pulse once again, filling with electricity. She curls her fingers into rigid claws and her palms begin to glow, threatening an attack.
Paige turns and leaps behind a gravestone just in time, tucking her knees and rolling into a somersault. The incoming plasma bolt smashes the structure to pieces as if it’s being hit by a wrecking ball. She scurries across the clearing and ducks behind a mausoleum, pressing her back against the wall while she catches her breath.
“I thought this is what you wanted: to go one-on-one with me? Isn’t that why you set up this elaborate plan?” Dia calls out as she strolls down the line of mausoleums, methodically searching behind each one. “Come on out and tell me what a bad girl I’ve been, Paige. Tell me all about how you can save me, and make me a better person.”
Paige sprints across the soaking grass to avoid being spotted, and momentarily loses her footing, slipping on a patch of loose dirt.
The white-hot plasma bolts come one after the other. The first blast of energy narrowly misses Paige’s head, and the second connects squarely with her shoulder. The pain is blinding. It tears a blackened hole through her muscle and cartilage, sending her spiraling to the ground with a painful thud. She presses her hand into the wound to stop the bleeding and regains her footing, running for cover as Dia recharges her hands.
Dia doesn’t run after her prey. She doesn’t need to. The cemetery is sealed off, and there are only so many places to hide. “Keep running, bitch,” Dia shouts with a maniacal glint in her eyes. “You have nowhere to go, and I can do this all day.”
Chapter Thirty – Mortify
New Orleans, Louisiana | January 28, 2012 | 1:48 pm, Central Standard Time
The gunshots from overhead startle Jens, and he instinctively drops to his stomach, covering his head with both hands.
Allison jams the point of her tennis shoe into his ribcage. “Holy shit Jeff, will you get your ass up off the ground already? You’re embarrassing yourself...even more than usual.”
He stands and dusts off his hoodie with both hands. “Sorry, I’m just freaked out at the sound of gunfire.” The small mausoleum is protecting them from the elements, and they remain undetected, but Jens is still terrified. Understandable, since he’s the only team member, aside from Amber, who doesn’t possess a single super power – and since she’s already dead, he figure she’s doesn’t have much to worry about.
Allison peeks out of a tiny crack in the wall and spots a pair of helicopters circling low towards the cemetery; their sharpshooters are sniping Trent’s reanimated corpses with terrifying precision. Explosive rounds blast their skulls to pieces and tear apart their torsos. Their army is falling. Without the corpses as backup, the General’s soldiers will overwhelm the team in a matter of minutes.
“You’re up,” Jens says, glancing at Allison’s tennis racket. “I see some copters hovering low...maybe you should start firing some of those flaming tennis balls?”
She exhales loudly and pulls a single ball from her satchel. “I don’t know if the timing is right,” she replies with a crack in her voice. “Maybe I should wait until they get lower to the ground.”
“Dude, if they get any closer they’ll be trimming the trees.” Jens pats her on the shoulder and makes his best attempt to fake an encouraging smile. “Look, I know you’re scared that you’re going to totally screw up and blow this entire mission, and there’s a ton of pressure on you because everyone is counting on you right now. But don’t worry – there is a really good chance you can do this.”
Allison glares back at him. “Thanks, coach. Hell of a pep talk.”
Jens waves his hands in the air as if to erase the last sentence. “Look, you’re not just Allison Smith, you’re Athena now; superstar tennis player by day, superhero by night. No one kicks asses and takes names like you do. You’re strong, you’re fast, and you can fire tennis balls at the speed of sound. Hell, you’re a goddess!” He points towards the exit, shouting boisterously. “Now go out there and destroy some helicopters so you can protect our gang of puppet zombies!”A sentence he never thought he would say in his lifetime.
She bounces a few times on the balls of her feet and shakes her head. “I don’t know...I’m just...I’m not feeling it.”
Jens turns his back and folds his arms. “Goto told me this might happen.”
“Told you what might happen?” she shouts, poking him in the shoulder with the end of her racket.
“That you’d choke. Like at Wimbledon last year.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” she insists, stomping her feet. “It was the surface – they made me play on grass! How stupid is that?”
Jens shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Well that’s not what they said on all the sports channels. They said you had a ton of potential, but that you always choke under pressure.”
“We’ll see who chokes.” Allison shoves her way past Jens, out of the mausoleum and into the open, standing exposed in the pouring rain.
A helicopter hovers just a hundred feet away, pivoting to put a sniper into firing position.
Allison tosses a ball into the air and poises her racket. “Choke on this, fuckers!”
The series of events happen in a blur – so fast that Jens barely has time to adjust his eyes. Through the stained-glass window of the mausoleum he spots a red streak blazing towards the aircraft, and the blinding flash that ensues. Chunks of flaming metal, rotating blades, and soldiers rain from the sky, littering the graveyard below.
The assault continues. Allison pulls one ball after another from the satchel slung over her shoulder, launching them like missiles at the surrounding helicopters. One by one they explode, bursting like fireworks.
As she continues to take down aircraft, Jens notices a single soldier on foot approaching from her blind spot, leveling their gun.
Chapter Thirty-One – Equivocate
New Orleans, Louisiana | January 28, 2012 | 1:44 pm, Central Standard Time
The moment that Cole is experiencing right now
– every sight, every smell, every physical sensation – is a crystal-clear reflection of his dream in Tibet; the guided meditation that The Messenger walked him through.
The General is framed by the bright yellow halo being cast from the Hummer’s headlights, standing steadfast with a weapon in-hand. He’s dressed for show, not for combat: his blue service military uniform looks more appropriate for a dinner function than a shootout in the pouring rain.
Cole’s first instinct is to leap to his feet, race down the pathway and beat the General to a bloody pulp. To pound and scream and make demands. But he knows that he lacks the control he needs – if he starts, he knows he won’t be able stop.
While he rolls the options over in his mind The General levels the weapon, firing a green bolt of energy into his chest. Cole sails backward, smashing into the trunk of an ancient oak tree.
General Davenport approaches with long, confident strides. “A man in my position doesn’t step on the battlefield anymore, so I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.” He fires again, blasting a bloody hole in Cole’s abdomen. “Like it?” The General asks, raising the shimmering silver gun to eye level. “One of the toys I got during our initial deal with the Collectors; Federation armor, some computer programs, and a couple of these. This blaster can slice through a diamond, and it never runs out of power. And technology like this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Cole grits his teeth, staggering to his feet. “You’re not going to run the world.” His wounds are closing, but markedly slower than usual. This weapon – whatever it is – is taking a toll on his system.
The General points the gun once again, sneering in disgust. “That’s the problem with the new generation: all sorts of confidence and these big, grand ideas. But you never act. You never do anything; you let the world rot while you make online petitions and send angry Emails.” He fires two more shots, blasting chunks from Cole’s shoulder at point-blank range. “You need a leader – you need someone like me to guide you.”
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