Many of the buildings around them were roaring up in flames, consuming the bodies of friend and foe alike, trapped within where they had been fighting.
The sweet, sickening stench of burning flesh was terrible and maddening.
Mason could barely move, but he did not black out.
A portion of his strength slowly returned to him. He sat up from his stretcher and looked around.
Fires were burning nearby where they had placed him in a shelter. He did not see Blondie, but someone outside suddenly called out for Captain Watkins.
Watkins had apparently been promoted for his actions that night.
Mason staggered out to see what was going on.
Troops brought in more than about two hundred men and women, a sad-looking lot. All of them had their hands bound in front of them with cable ties. Most of their armor and gear had been stripped off of them.
None of them had weapons.
The other troops bullied and spit on them as if they were all criminals.
But if so many were criminals, what was their crime?
Watkins called out to his junior officer, Lieutenant Avery. “Bill, what’s all this? Why have you brought these people here?”
“General Benton said for you to dispose of them as you see fit, Captain. These are deserters. No matter where we put them, they run and they keep running, every battle, every chance they get.”
Watkins snorted. “What of it? Most of the militia ran away at some point tonight. What am I supposed to do with so many of them?”
Avery frowned. “At the very least, I think Benton wanted them beaten and driven off. He even suggested that perhaps hanging a few of them might set a proper example.”
Watkins stopped. “Do you bear any direct orders to do any of that?”
“None, Captain.”
“If they won’t fight, then we won’t waste any further time or effort upon on them, Lieutenant. Disband them in dishonor and send them on their way. Nor will we waste food or drink on them.”
Some of the troops still serving volunteered. “Captain, if you please, the troops gathered in this area would happily give these cowards a drudging. Give us that pleasure.”
“No!” Mason croaked, getting up. “No, do not touch them!” he shouted. “Don’t you do that!”
He drew his pistols and dragged himself forward, even though his arms still flopped at his sides like noodles, and he no strength to lift them.
Time for a bluff.
“Captain Watkins, Lieutenant Avery, we can’t turn on each other like this. We can’t start doing this kind of thing to our own people. I saw everyone run tonight, including the general himself. By God, I swear it, if you abuse those poor people any further, I will start shooting in all directions, and I will not stop until someone cuts me down!”
“Mace,” Bill Avery said in shock. “Calm down. You can’t mean that.”
“No, you and the captain listen good. We can’t do this to our own kind. Everyone isn’t cut out to be a warrior, a soldier, or a fighter. But they are still human–they are still our people, worthy of respect. There are so few of us left; we can’t waste anyone. Find another way for them to serve with honor. They don’t have to be able to fight and kill to contribute.”
“Calm down, Mace,” Watkins said. “I just want to get rid of them. They can go their way.”
“That’s not good enough. Instead of beating or dishonoring them, give them all a choice. Some could serve in the medical corps or with the injured. There are children who need watching and educating, elderly who need to be cared for. Some people are good teachers or trainers. Some are good with animals. Others are good at sewing or fixing things. Some are good at building stuff. There are those who are good at logistics, or planning, or counting. They could work in the damn fields, if nothing else.”
Captain Watkins looked befuddled. “Mace, I’m listening to you, but you’re delirious.”
“Damn it, everyone’s good at something. So they’re not fighters. So what? Find what else they’re good at and let them do that.”
“All right. We will. I’ll do as you ask, Mace. You have my word. Why do you care so much what happens to these cowards?”
Mason laughed weakly.
He let his Spillers fall into the dirt.
“Because…we all know what it’s like to be scared out of our minds. Without my guns to hide behind, I might be right there among them.”
9
While they spoke, Jerriel got up and walked around the Blackwoods’ living room, systematically studying everything she came to. She looked at their gear and supplies, Belle’s’ plants and bird pictures on the walls.
She gasped suddenly, and zeroed in on an old globe on the dining room table.
She went straight to it, turning it over in her hands, and staring at the continents and the writing.
David turned back to his friends. “Jerriel told me that this region is part of a wild, unexplored continent on her world–the world of Tharanor. Her people are just starting to explore and colonize it, but the Wildlands, as her people call North and South America, are overrun with fierce creatures and these monster tribes that we are now fighting. We even saw a dragon by the river.”
Belle and Dirk looked at each other, then back at him. “Are you sure it was a dragon?” Belle asked.
David blinked. “Pretty damn sure. It swept right over us.”
“If all of that is true, and there are none of her people around here–then what was she doing here?” Dirk asked.
“She was using her magic to travel between one colony city state and the next when the Merge struck, disrupting her magic and dumping her here.”
The Blackwoods gaped.
“Did you say, magic?” Dirk asked.
“Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy, but I believe her. On Tharanor, she was a wizard, in fact. Only the Merge has messed up her magic, almost just as much as it has disrupted our technology. That cracked gem she wears on her forehead is magic, but it was damaged. Now it barely lets her understand us and slowly learn to speak our language. But she’s still getting better at it all the time. When we first met, I could barely understand her words.”
“And that’s proof of magic?” Belle said.
“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but then, all of this is crazy.”
Dirk smoothed his gray hair back and put his worn beret back on. “Okay, Dave. It’s just a lot to accept all at once. You said her people have colonies in this region...on her world? How far away are they from South Bend?”
“I’m not sure. I’m guessing at least a hundred miles or more to the east and west of us. She said it was a few hours travel between them, via magic. She was about halfway along her journey to what we call Toledo when the Merge struck.”
“Hmmm...so let me follow this,” Belle added. “If her people are as dependent on their magic as we are on our technology, then they’re going to be almost just as hamstrung. We might not be able to make contact with them for weeks, perhaps months. Just like our people in Chicago, Indianapolis, Detroit, and Toledo.”
David shook his head. “And we’re all in danger pretty deep. Jerriel says this entire continent is overrun with warring monster tribes and other dangerous creatures–especially this region.”
“That’s not very good news, Dave. People out in the small towns and rural areas are going to have a tough time surviving.”
David didn’t want to say anything, but it wasn’t looking so good for the people in the cities, either.
Belle pointed at Jerriel. “What kind of magic or spells can she normally do?”
David shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to ask. She just says her powers aren’t working because of the Merge.”
Dirk glanced at her, then back at David. “Maybe it’s just an act,” he whispered. “Could she simply be a little...you know. Whacko?” He shook his hands in the air for emphasis.
David’s eyes went back and forth. Jerriel smiled that smile of hers.
> Pretty, but not crazy.
“I considered that, but I honestly think she really is from this other dimension–this other world she calls Tharanor. That world is mixed up with ours now. Think about it; it all makes more sense than anything else. These monsters and the weird patches of forest had to come from somewhere. They aren’t from Earth.”
Jerriel rushed back in, clutching the globe upside down.
“This woorld. It is Tharanor. I recognize the coontinents, but the markings are all stra-hange. I cannot read them.”
“Your world must be an alternate Earth, similar to ours,” Belle said.
“Yes, a sister-woorld,” Jerriel agreed.
They spoke for a while, about Earth and Tharanor. Belle was smart enough to whip out a notebook and write as fast as she could whenever Jerriel poured out information about her homeworld, its peoples, and their cultures.
Dirk drifted off to sleep after about thirty minutes. He started to snore on the couch.
“Let him rest,” Belle said with a smile. “We’ve had a tough morning, fighting those scary things. Chills my blood to think about them coming back in force tonight.”
Jerriel looked as if she was ready to nod off, as well. David suddenly felt the same way.
“We’ve all been through a lot this morning,” Belle said. “And it’s going to be a long day and night.”
She pointed at Dirk snoring. “I’ll rest down here in my comfy chair with sleeping beauty. You two drag yourselves upstairs and use the beds in our room and the guest room. Or bed…if you’re so inclined.” Belle winked at David.
Jerriel stretched her slender, luxurious body, shaking her mane of dark hair. The elegant curves of her lips and her nose were so exotic. David kept catching himself staring at her.
“Thanka yoo, Belli,” Jerriel said. “A bed wood be verry nice. Are yoo coming, David?” She waited for him at the foot of the stairs, smiling.
David gulped, not sure what to think. “I sure am.”
They got up the stairs. Jerriel took the guest room. She smiled at him again as she closed the door behind her. “Wake me when yoo need me, Daeved. Sleep weell.”
“I will. You too.” David shuddered. What he wouldn’t give to–
He stopped himself from thinking in that direction. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to rest.
He left the other bedroom door open, threw himself onto the Blackwood’s un-made, king-size four poster and passed out in a few minutes.
#
David went downstairs after what he guessed was a nap of about two hours. Jerriel’s door was still closed. Let the pretty wizard girl rest.
Outside in the back under their gigantic hickory tree, Dirk and Belle got four bikes ready from their garage, two with carriers behind them for gear. Dirk had his loaded up with armor pieces and weapons.
David sat down on the loveseat in the living room and went through his backpack. Not much help there. He took out his textbooks and smirked. He wouldn’t be going back to class any time soon, he guessed. Smartphone. Still dead. His pad, also dead. Some notebooks, pens, and pencils. He might need them. Half a bottle of water, an apple, and a peanut butter granola bar.
Yep, ready to save the world.
He looked at his parents’ picture, touching their faces with his fingertips. David sighed.
“Mom, Dad. Stay close to me. I’m in a blivet full of trouble.” He put the picture back in and zipped up, gathered his weapons, and joined Dirk and Belle outside in the back.
“I got rides ready for you and your wizard gal,” Dirk said with his usual grin. “Yours has a trailer, an old kid carrier. You still have more of your gear at your place?”
David nodded, walking around the bikes, checking them over.
“The monsters burned my apartment building down, but most of my gear is still in my car’s trunk. Jerriel and I can fetch it before noon, once she wakes up. I don’t know if she can ride a bike.”
“I can learn,” Jerriel said. She stood stretching a few feet behind him.
“You’re pretty quiet,” David said. Not many could sneak up on him.
She smirked. “When I have to be.”
“Bring everything you can get your hands on,” Dirk told them. “We’re going to need it.”
David showed Jerriel her bike. “Let’s go have a little crash course in bike riding,” he said. Bad choice of words.
“Cra-hash?” she said, putting her staff down. “That does not sound soo good, Daeved.”
Within fifteen hilarious minutes she got the basics down and stopped running into cars, trees, and hitting the curb or falling over. She learned to brake, turn, and turn around.
The little bit of laughter they shared helped David relax somewhat. His muscles repeatedly knotted up with tension and worry over their situation. The threats they labored under felt like heavy weights bearing down on him.
But steadying Jerriel with his hands on her slender arms and waist took his mind off quite a bit, including the terror they faced.
Everything about this dang girl was pretty. She even smelled good. Getting close to her made it difficult to stay focused. It was hard to think.
Geez, snap out of it. He couldn’t daydream about girls like some teenage idiot. In less than a few hours they’d be fighting for their lives, against what number of monsters, they still didn’t know. From what Jerriel told them, it sounded as if they were surrounded by tribes of countless lethal creatures.
He clenched his fists briefly, watching Jerriel pedal away and then come back to him. Oh, man. Check that smile. If only they weren’t in such deep crapola. What he wouldn’t give to have things back to normal. To get to know Jerriel and spend time with her. Damn it all, straight to hell and back.
The monsters would attack again that night. They all felt pretty certain of that. They could all die.
There was still so much they didn’t know. It knotted his guts up all over again.
Jerriel came to a stop. She motioned with a toss of her dark hair. “Get yoor bi-hike, Daeved. I will get better. We need yoor armor and other supplies. I will follow yoo.”
Beautiful, and practical too, while he daydreamed and fumed. He needed to keep it together better.
They rode side-by-side from Cushing up to Portage to Angela, around patches of dark trees. At 933, David pointed out the ND Golf Course and many red maples, white oaks, and cotton wood trees that obscured the area, and across the street between the houses on the other side of Angela.
They had to cut through some of the back streets to get downtown and reach the Century Center. People already gathered in the parking lots and the open streets. There was safety in numbers.
More and more bikes filled the roads. More people walked, carrying bundles, pulling and pushing all kinds of carts–most of them shopping carts. Traffic passed in all directions.
David pointed to the Century Center parking lot, HQ for the city authorities now that the County City Building was gone. “This is where we need to meet Dirk and Belle in about two hours. They’re going to help organize the militia to defend the town tonight.”
“Where are we going again, Daeved?”
“To get some things out of my car, if it’s still there.”
They peddled a few miles and reached his ruined apartment building, back up near Angela and 23. The monsters had done a job on it–burning it to the ground. The wreckage still smoked and burned.
No signs of any weird glowing pools like the one he had seen earlier. And there wasn’t any way not to notice several bloody “kill-spots” in the area. Those got him angry again. The monsters had to go down.
At least the calamity struck during Spring Break. Otherwise, there might have been even more victims. But with many of the students gone, that also gave them fewer able-bodied defenders in town.
He could only guess what was happening elsewhere across the globe, but if they all died here in Michiana, all of that wouldn’t really matter.
At least his faithful old car still sat in
the parking lot–with all the other now-useless lumps. A silver 1992 Toyota Corolla four door, rusting out on both sides, banged up by fender-benders. All caused by others, of course. David’s car wasn’t much to look at. Just a worn-out heap, many would say.
Yet even with more than 200,000 miles on it, it still remained the greatest car David had ever owned. Or ever would. The engine still ran perfectly and got him wherever he wanted to go.
At least, it did before the Merge. Except for a cracked rear window, it was still the same heap he knew and loved. They got off their bikes. He dug out his keys. His keys jingled and his hands trembled.
David loved that old car. His parents had bought it new and then given it to him after they got their Sienna. Because the Corolla was silver-gray, they had nicknamed it Gandalf, and the name stuck. That car never let him down.
It cut him to the bone to think that he might never climb in and drive it anywhere–ever again.
He knew it wouldn’t work, but he opened the creaking rusty door, sat down in the comfy, threadbare seats, and tried to start it up.
No good. Not even a click from the starter. Nothing.
All over the planet, cars and vehicles no longer worked.
David couldn’t help weeping–at everything his world and his people had lost–overnight.
10
Birds sang. The air was cool and crisp, but Mason felt warm.
He didn’t have the strength to force his eyes to open just yet, no matter how hard he tried. He was either still too weak, or too deeply asleep.
But he took the sounds of the spring birds singing around him as hopeful sign.
At least he wasn’t dead. Birds meant morning. Daylight. The hope of another day.
Then he tried to move.
Big mistake. Everything hurt when he tried to move.
New strategy–don’t try to move.
But he was awake enough to make out voices now, out in the hallway beyond his room. He made out General Benton’s voice, filled with irritation, worry, and doubt–talking with Captain Watkins and Blondie.
B00M0CSLAM EBOK Page 8