Nemesis: Book Five

by David Beers

  And here he was looking at what might be his death. All to see her again.

  No one in the car said anything, and even the boy inside remained quiet. Briten thought they all knew what came next and he thought them all most likely more scared than he.

  Briten had faith in Morena. He had to, because otherwise, he came all this distance for nothing. If she didn't come through now, he could turn around and go back to whatever life this human normally had—which really wasn't an option. Or, he walked out on the white ground before him and died as it pulled him under. So, really, either he found Morena or he died.

  You're going out there, aren't you? Michael said.

  Briten didn't respond. He didn't mind the boy; the kid had something special about him, but Briten didn't have time to pay him any attention. No matter what he felt about him, this wasn't a relationship, nor anything that could ever possibly grow into one.

  But, yes, Briten was going out there. He would do whatever it took to see his wife again.

  He glanced up into the rearview mirror, looking at the two people in the backseat. He needed to be careful with them, because they both loved Michael deeply and neither one was stable. They didn't look at him as he studied each, but kept looking at Morena's work ahead. They would stop Briten if they could, pin Michael's body to the ground and do everything in their power to keep him from walking out into the strands they feared so much.

  If they try to stop me, I'll kill them, he said. I don't want to and I don't have to, but if they don't let me go forward, then they die here.

  He felt the boy thinking, deep in the library he built. Briten couldn't be in there and out in this world at the same time, but it really didn't matter what conclusion Michael came to. If the kid had something he wanted Briten to say to the two in the backseat, then Briten would say it if it might help keep them at bay.

  Just tell them to stay in the car. Tell them it's me asking them.

  Still looking back in the mirror, Briten said, "Michael wants me to tell you something."

  He saw their eyes snap to the rearview, finding his immediately. "What?" the father said.

  "He wants me to tell you both to stay in the car. That no matter what you see, don't get out."

  "Why? What are you going to do?"

  Briten could see his red eyes in the mirror, knew the sinister connotation they carried as they stared endlessly forward, and yet the boy's father didn't break eye contact. His voice didn't shake and his hands didn't quiver. Whatever happened to this man, the disgusting liquid that Briten saw a glimpse of through Michael's memories, it destroyed something that had once been strong.

  Briten owed him no answer now that the message was delivered, so he opened the car door.

  Wren watched the creature step from the car.

  Michael told him to stay inside, at least that's what the creature said. Of course Wren didn't know whether it was a lie or truth, but he saw that the creature was frightened of what came next. Wren didn't need to be a genius, hell, didn't need to be sober to understand that it planned on walking out into the white mess in front of the car. Even now, the creature stood with the door open, his arms propped on it as he kept gazing forward.

  It didn't want to go out there, and that meant danger waited in those white strands. Even for this thing with red eyes, it could die, and that meant Michael would die too.

  Which Wren wasn't going to let happen. It didn't matter what Michael said or this red-eyed beast thought; Wren would keep Michael alive. So if it went out there, then Wren followed. Plain and simple.

  "What is it?" Bryan asked from his left, the first words he spoke in hours. "It took Thera; it had to. What is it?"

  "Change," the creature standing next to the car said, still not shutting the door, still not ready to venture into that change, apparently. Wren watched the thing hiding inside his son's body, moving and sounding so similar, so familiar, but not Michael at all. He was frightened, but Wren wasn’t—even with the knowledge that his son might die, his mind focused.

  He said nothing, only waited for the creature to make its move, because if it tried to take his son out into that different world, Wren would stop it. He didn't know how, and understood that hurting the creature was the same as hurting his son, at least his son's body—but he would do something.

  Protect him, Linda said, and for once, they were in agreement.

  Change, the alien said.

  Bryan knew who the alien was, even though he hadn't told anyone. Michael probably knew as well, though he couldn't communicate it to Bryan.

  Morena's lost lover.

  Bryan knew of him, Briten, from Bryan's time with her. He brought them here because he was as obsessed with her as she was with him. Bryan remembered what Morena felt about this guy, even if he hadn't been able to find out what happened with all of them. Morena would burn worlds for him, and Bryan thought Briten would do the same for her.

  So he planned on going into the white, which was fine. Bryan had to go into the white as well, because Thera was in it.

  The alien wasn't sure about what to do, perhaps for the first time since they started this journey. The white shit would kill him, Bryan thought, but at the same time, the alien couldn't turn around. He wouldn't. Nothing would keep him from going forward, even if he didn't know how to keep himself alive while doing it.

  Go on, Bryan thought. Go on and get out there. She'll come. I know her; that bitch will show up and save you. She'll have to save us all, I think, if Michael is twisting your arm like I think he is. Then we all go into the white. So go on, you motherfucker.

  "Change."

  Briten wasn't long on words, that was for sure, and while normally Michael appreciated that, in this situation it helped nothing.

  Michael wanted more time. He knew what Briten was about to do, but the more time Michael could get, the more he would know. Even now, with his father and Bryan asking questions, Michael kept reading. The books were endless though, everything this alien knew, and so when Michael said he needed time, he needed a lot of it.

  He put the book he was currently reading in his lap, the pages staring back up at him.

  "Okay, okay," he said. He didn't want to meet Morena and definitely didn't want the two of them meeting without knowing more. Yet, when he looked out of his eyes, he saw that he wasn't going to get the chance to learn anything else. Briten was simply gathering his nerve, and as soon as he did, he would pass from Earth to whatever world Morena was creating.

  Michael stood up and placed the book on the chair behind him.

  He needed help but no one else lived in this place. Regardless of how many people surrounded you, in the end, you have to live in your own head—alone.

  But.

  How long had he been alone?

  Was his room at the trailer that much different than this room here?

  He could open the door in the trailer and look out into reality, see his father sloshed on his chair, hear the television continuously talking. He could call Thera or Bryan and talk to them, but even that wasn't much different from being able to look out of Briten's new eyes and see the world around him—because when he shut the door to his room or hung up the phone, he had always been alone. And what did he do then? He read. He thought. He never asked for help, though.

  Because it wasn't coming. Ever.

  When you grow up with an alcoholic parent, and only one parent at that, you quickly realize the world forgets about kids like you. Conveniently, because it's much easier to forget than to go to a shitty trailer and check in. All the people that showed up to Michael's mother's funeral didn't show up too many more times.

  "You didn't call them, either. You got through without them," he said.

  So he would now.

  Michael created this room even if Briten populated it with his mind, his history. If Briten ever decided to slow down for a second, he might be able to create his own room, and then Michael's mind would populate it. They both had complete access to each other, even if nei
ther could fully utilize that access right now.

  Michael certainly wasn't fully utilizing it.

  He was only allowing himself to see clips of this creature's life, a life that spanned millions of years. But … more lay under the surface, the connections that allowed them to live together in Michael's brain. He had to access those connections because they might lead him to the correct book.

  Michael closed his eyes, blocking out the fantastic library where books hung from the ceiling.

  As he did, he saw Briten's red mass. It ebbed and flowed, looking like peace—confident despite his apprehension in reality. Michael looked at Briten's essence again, not focusing on the black still growing in its middle; that didn't matter right now. Instead, Michael went forward, feeling instinctively what he needed to do. They had to connect, the mass needed to know what Michael wanted, and in that connection, Michael's own mind would lead him to the knowledge he needed.

  He didn't hesitate, but shoved his hand directly into the red, pushing up to his elbow but stopping before the black disease could reach out to him. If he touched that, it would invade him just as it had Briten. The red was what he needed, the black … that was something else.

  It only took a second, the connection near instantaneous. Michael felt it, his needs flowing to the red mass, as despite the resistance each felt for the other, the underlying relationship had to be symbiotic or neither would survive. The mass took in the information, grabbing readily for it, as if it had been waiting to learn about this new creature.

  Michael opened his eyes and the library appeared before him. The red mass gone, his own hand, once plunged deep into it, now resting idly at his side.

  He looked around the room, hoping that it worked. Hoping that somehow he would see what he told the mass he needed, and as his eyes scanned the shelves—he found it. Twenty feet above him, lit up with the same red hue he saw a moment before.

  8

  Present Day

  Someone was near, yet it seemed like forever since Morena's aura told her anything. She felt a presence now though, even with her eyes closed.

  She opened them, and at first saw the strange room she lay in.

  Where was she?

  "Var," a voice said from the other end of the couch she laid on.

  She moved her head slightly as her aura reached out to touch whoever was there.

  Briten, she thought. He's speaking.

  "Where am I?" she asked, that question more important than anything else. Where was she and how were her children.

  "You're near the core, a few miles away," he said. His blue aura clung close to his body, showing respect.

  "How are they, the rest of us?"

  "They're fine. They're evolving."

  "No attacks?" Morena asked, memories coming back to her, as to why she lay on this couch, as to why she had slept.

  "Nothing yet. It's only been a few hours, but the human says the world is probably in turmoil, trying to regroup and plan."

  Morena sat up, her own aura staying close as well, steadying her. She was still weak, though nothing like when she arrived at this house.

  "The human, where is she?"

  "On the porch."

  Morena stood and turned to Briten, her son now. Her first born. Her aura reached out to his, the green touching the blue. She wanted him to understand what she felt. The human outside would show these emotions differently, most likely crying, something that Morena couldn't do.

  "Why?" he said, understanding what she transferred.

  "Because you're here. Because I've waited millions of years to hear your voice, even if I didn't know I was waiting."

  She let her aura drop, breaking their connection. He looked taken aback; he hadn't expected the Var to touch him like that, to engage him so meaningfully. Yet, she was alone for years, and had she truly ever thought she would see this day? That she would see another of her kind in front of her?

  "The human is … peculiar," he said, after a moment, trying to regain his composure.

  "How?"

  "There's something not right about her, Var. Something dangerous."

  "She's the reason we're still alive," Morena said.

  "Yes, but that doesn't mean she's safe."

  Morena nodded. He was right, and if his assessment was right, then she would die the minute she stopped being useful.

  "It's not a physical threat that worries me," Briten said. "It's her contacting the rest of her species, telling them something, anything."

  Morena looked to the front door; the human sat out there alone on the porch. "Has she been by herself often?"

  "No. Not much at all. I only came in when I felt you waking."

  "Good. Keep her close."

  "Yes, Var," Briten said.

  Another moment passed, but Briten didn't move, so Morena waited. He knew their customs, the DNA running through him having shared everything by now. Already he broached too many subjects with a Var, especially one in her state. Yet he stood, his eyes lowered, his aura showing deference, but not moving.

  "Go ahead. It's okay. Normal protocols don't apply."

  "Are you worried?" he said.

  "Worried?"

  "There's so many of them, Var. So many children and all of them need protection."

  "No," Morena said. "I'll protect them all."

  "And the humans?"

  "What about them?"

  "They're coming," Briten said.

  Morena nodded and looked out the living room window. Rigley said they would come, and Morena supposed it was just about time to meet them—all of them. "Good. Let's get ready to welcome them."

  "More flow in every hour," Briten said. "They know you're here."

  Morena stood next to her son, standing on the porch and looking to the white world. She remembered seeing it when she arrived, but her exhaustion had consumed her. Now she saw it fresh, or much fresher than earlier, and the beauty was true. Hundreds of children. Her children.

  "There's so many of them," the human said from Morena's left.

  Morena looked over to her, seeing her for the first time since waking. Sweat beaded on the woman's forehead and upper lip, yet the air felt cool, and light breezes blew gently across the porch.

  Remember what mattered to her, when you talk about children. That's what brought her over to begin with.

  Morena didn't care a whole lot about the woman's psyche, not at all outside of what it could do to her species now born. She would kill Rigley if she needed to, but it would still be wise to keep her around if possible. The woman knew things that could help.

  "How long before your kind mounts an attack against us?" Morena said and looked back out to the yard.

  "I'm sure they're planning now. The whole world is planning, probably, because you're a known entity. Earlier you lived in the shadows, and even when all of that stuff out there started spreading, most people on Earth had no idea you existed." Rigley reached up to her forehead and wiped away sweat with the back of her hand. "Not anymore. They know. Everyone knows."

  The woman rambled without answering Morena's question. Morena didn't need to turn around and look at Briten to understand his thoughts; her aura picked them up easily. He saw it too, the sweat and the words that tumbled out like a million tiny pebbles. What was happening to the woman? Morena knew she wasn't completely intact when she first arrived, but she hadn't been this bad.

  "How long, Rigley?" Morena said. "How long will it take them to complete their plan?"

  "I don't know. It's hard to say. So many people are going to be talking, so many people wanting to be involved. People from overseas. I bet they're flying them in from across the globe."

  Morena couldn't handle it anymore; her aura snapped out and grabbed Rigley's wrist, tightening just before she brought pain. The woman stopped talking, her eyes doubling in size in under a second. Morena would make her hurt if necessary, but she thought that might break whatever fragile bridge connected this woman to reality.

  "I need you to
focus. You're nervous right now and I need you to calm down. There's nothing to fret about, but if you don't focus, the children out there will be in danger. Do you see them? Right now you're rambling, and I need you to help me protect them."

  She didn't release her grip on Rigley.

  "Now," Morena said. "Tell me how long, in units of time, before they come for us."

  Rigley was silent for the first time since Morena walked out.

  Let her think. She'll give you a number.

  "I think ten hours at the most. The absolute most. They've seen what you can do, multiple times. They're going to be scared, but if humans do anything, we kill what we fear. So within ten hours, you'll see some kind of attack."

  "Ten hours …,” Morena said to herself. She let go of her hold on Rigley. "Briten, how far along will they all be in ten hours?"

  "Half way, I think."

  That wouldn't work. Half way meant that a lot of Bynums died when humans returned.

  "You can speed it up," she said, not knowing if it was true, but feeling it might be. "You can go to them; let them feed off your aura, let it nourish what their own auras are trying to do. Then let them do the same with others." She turned around so that she looked at Briten. "When they arrive, the humans, we have to be ready, because they're going to try to annihilate us."

  "Yes, they will …,” Rigley whispered. Morena looked over to her and saw the woman combing her fingers through her hair. Up and down the shaky fingers moved, the woman having no idea what she was doing. Briten was right, something inside the woman was truly wrong, perhaps malignant.

  She looked back to Briten. "When they come, we're going to kill them all. Make your family ready."

  The ocean caused difficulties for the strands.

  For one, the water reached intense levels of cold as they moved down, though not quite enough to stop their movement. Still, none of them traveled as fast as their brethren on land. The other difficult part, especially when combined with the slow growth, was the amount of ocean floor they needed to traverse. All the strands knew those above had less area to cross; the gradual slope of the ocean created long, long miles.