by Ric Dawson
“You’re going to have a very manly scar, sugar. Get some bed rest, okay!” She winked at him.
“Like that’s going to happen with you around.” His eyes twinkled as he lurched to his feet.
Softly, we ran along the elevated walkway back towards the front of the building we had just left. Even with the fire alarms blaring into the electronic night, the thud of running feet and rustle of weapons could be heard below.
Jim held up his hand, fist closed. Everyone stopped. It was easy to hear officers barking orders below us.
“Jä-ä-ävlar-r-r-r,” Sven whispered. “Odin tests us this day,” he said grimly.
“Okay guys, we need to take out the tanks. Then, we’ll kill the rest of these swags,” Jim said.
“Right. How many could there be?” Mel smirked.
We traversed the length of the overhead walkway in less than thirty seconds.
“They haven’t checked up here yet,” Mel said.
“Hell’s pistoleros. Never question good luck,” Jim said.
The walkway had a thigh-high glass partition on the edge. It ended in an open stairwell leading down to the street right where troops streamed by. We hugged the building side so troopers wouldn’t look up and see us moving along it.
As we rounded the building’s edge, the tanks came into view below, plasma turrets pointing towards the front of the building. We didn’t waste time.
Jim leveled the TP gun at the closest tank while Kane targeted the second.
“Remember, hitting the target isn’t necessary. You only need to be within a few meters and bang-o suck-o there she goes.” Jim pulled the trigger halfway and started the prongs spinning.
“These guns take forever to spin up,” Kane said.
The gun hummed as the three prongs extended from the front barrel. A shimmering half-crescent shield appeared in front of the gun. You couldn’t move the gun onto a target once the prongs were spinning. A precession effect. It was a pain in the ass. The process of firing required charging, targeting, then spin-up and fire. All hard to do if you were dodging incoming fire. From our position, only the tank crew and troops out in the pavilion could see us.
“Jim, those tanks are too close,” Kane whispered.
“I know. Stay behind the shield,” Jim said.
We were never sure what to expect from the TP gun. If everything went according to design, a three-meter sphere would flash around the target. Hard radiation would lethally dose anyone exposed within one hundred meters. Everything inside the sphere would vanish. Without the gun’s rad shield, anyone firing the weapon at close targets would die.
Everyone hunkered down behind Kane and Jim as they fired.
The tanks had spotted us. Their turrets traversed on our position. Jim smiled as brilliant white spheres surrounded the tanks. Once the flash had subsided, the only thing left were smoldering holes where the tanks had been. Our guns shields flared cerulean blue as the radiation swept over us. How it stopped the gammas and neutrons we didn’t have a clue. The TP gun was a messy weapon and only good for places you weren’t expecting to come back to. It was almost as dangerous as the enemy. Almost …
Several troopers had moved up and ran for cover behind the tanks. They stumbled to a stop, shielding their eyes as white radiance surrounded the tanks. Within seconds they were down on the ground amid pools of vomit and diarrhea. Taking that many rads, that close, with no protection, they didn’t have a chance. “Die puking, you bastards,” Jim muttered.
Kane glanced at me, eyes cool. “You’re not getting all emotional on me are you?” Then a grin eased up his cheek.
“Dick,” Jim said.
“If you two love birds are done, we need to get the hell out of here,” Mel gasped as she stood up and scanned the walkway behind us. We heard puking and groans from below as we approached the stairs.
“The Wraith troops below us were closer to the tanks. Radiation exposures had to be high,” Jim said. For a split moment, he felt pity for them, then remembered the desolate ruin that used to be Colorado Springs.
Heads popped up in the underpass ahead. Bullets pinged off cement as we ran.
“We need to get off this walkway before they chew us to bits,” Kane said.
We dove behind the escalator. Glass, plastic, and cement chips fell in a constant rain. We had nowhere to run.
“Jävlig!” Sven exclaimed. The bullet barrage kept our heads down. Troopers poured onto the walkway behind us.
A loud whoosh and roar preceded an explosion that shook the escalator. Several more whooshes in rapid succession were followed by explosions.
“We don’t have smoke. If we can cross the pavilion, we can find cover in buildings over there,” Jim said. Then he looked each of us in the eyes and nodded slowly.
“Guns-blazin’, boss,” Kane said.
“Okay, alpha dogs–.” Jim stopped. We all heard the unmistakable sound of helicopters thumping the air. A cascade of whooshes were followed by more thunderous booms.
Large chunks of pavement flew into the air along with body parts of Wraith troopers. Then Gatling guns roared to life, sending hot-spike metal into exposed enemy positions. The Apaches were back!
The assault choppers maneuvered to keep the World Trade Center between them and the Wraith tower. Traversing down the street, they cut down the scrambling troopers who were now caught in the open with nowhere to run. The rounds tore flesh and armor into bloody shreds. Lightning arced in towards the Apaches but was quickly silenced as the massive armor-piercing slugs made quick work of the spheres. Without the heavy plasma fire from the tanks, lending support against the agile choppers, the rockers were no match for the Apaches.
# # #
Lane
I hadn’t felt right since we started running across the office plaza. Nausea, a strong impending sense of doom, and now this weird distorted feeling which starts when Wraith psi teams are nearby, all conspired to drop me to my knees.
Jim asked for intel from the astral after we had run up the escalator so I stretched out on the floor. I got as comfortable as you can on cold stone.
It struck me as odd that we hadn’t seen a living soul. Not one. Just abandoned cars, empty offices and shops, and the occasional charred bloody remains of the dead. Even the birds were quiet.
Power and lights illuminated the office building we entered. Surrounding buildings had power too as if someone forgot to turn the lights off when night fell. Neon signs blazed. Ads streamed by on billboards, while the colorful city blazed in a myriad of color. The giant Tokyo tower rose up in spectral glory beyond the World Trade Center, adding its golden fire to the montage of lights.
I slipped into the astral. My friends crouched behind the second-floor balcony. Muted colors emanated from them. The near-psi shifted from the real.
Moving to a hover outside the building, I spotted a dozen of the rolling combat spheres as they entered the pavilion. Behind them were several plasma tanks.
I looked towards the Wraith tower. A boiling cauldron of vapor draped the tower like a cloak.
More tanks moved in the distance. Scores of rolling spheres raced ahead of them. The city was dark in the astral. Some places darker than others. An ominous gray fog covered the ground.
Where were all the colorful streamers?
Tokyo Tower was pale, near lifeless. The sullen vortex above the city looked sooty. Thick smog churned with clumped eddies. On the far outskirts of the vortex an obsidian blackness ate the night. The blackness crept closer.
“Dear God. What is that, Audam?”
You know what it is.
Even as I watched, the far edges of the vortex winked out. Consumed. I knew, even as dread grew in my mind, that horror consumed thousands of agonized lives, snuffed out, with only death as their final witness.
The Wraith tower hid behind heavy dissonance fog. Sparks of reds and orange blossomed deep in the fog like eerie light bombs in a cloud sea. I sensed them. Psi teams. I could feel them, hidden in the mist. Waiting.
My guts clenched. I knew why we had been discovered so quickly. They could sense me. As clearly as I could sense them.
The awakening in the thought sea had increased my power. The egregors weren’t just out there somewhere in astral space. They lived in us. We drew their strength as part of our being.
The pavement bulged and bubbles of dirt the size of cars rose up. One by one, winged humanoids emerged from them like swarms of beetles. The streets filled with the creatures.
Something pushed me. I stood on a balcony overlooking a large crowd that stretched to the horizon. Spread-eagled on thousands of racks, people screamed as thousands more watched in satisfaction. Whips struck flesh. Hot iron burned. Disease rotted limbs.
A rumble turned to a primordial beat. Boom. Pause. Boom. Pause. Sound morphed into flesh. Desire raged with each push. The pulse quickened. The pitch faster.
Power coursed through my soul. Rich. Sweet. Destiny. They were mine. My control. My desires. I fed on their pain. My head lolled back and I howled in ecstasy. Droplets of yellow resin formed on my skin and a sickly-sweet odor filled the air. Such power. Absolute. Mine.
I raised my arms to chants of the masses. Lej’jin. Lej’jin. Lej’jin.
Black tendrils flowed from my body and engulfed those below me.
-You have always been one of us, Lej’jin.-
-Power is the only true God. Only the fittest survive. You know this.-
“I know.”
-Come. Join us. Take your place by our side. We rule here.-
“I’ve always known.”
A woman reached for me from the gloom. Her frail body shimmered, aglow in moonlight. She caressed my cheek.
“Fight them, my darling. You can choose your destiny. Your past is not your future.” She smelled of lilac.
“Mother?”
The knife in my hand dripped blood. It had been me. She lay in a spreading pool of sanguine. Her eyes filled with pain, and no … I looked away. Her love pierced me like a bolt.
-Forget her. Suul’jin whore.-
-You are a God.-
A red-haired woman, cuffed in chains, moaned in torment. She looked up at me as a tear pierced her blue eyes. Kai’rii. No.
-Your slave-bitch is ours, Lej’jin.-
-Surely, you do not wish to see her suffer.-
-You know what we can do.-
Memories flooded my mind. Cinnamon and nutmeg scented the air as she sat by the fire grinding flowers and resin. She grabbed a mixing bowl and added makko for her scented sticks. Her ginger hair glowed by candlelight and warmed my soul. Her hair, personality, humor, sexual scent. She reminded me of someone recent. Sam?
“Is it true, Audam. I am evil?”
You have already chosen. The future Is written.
-No. We write the future.-
A jagged crack of light appeared in front of me. The image exploded like glass. My heart filled with the divine as sunlight burst from the sky in torrents. Courage.
The egregor filled my soul. A golden rod appeared in my hand; a chunnel into the burning heart of the thought-verse. Fueled by compassion, courage, and hope.
A giant beam exploded from the rod like a stroke from heaven. My strength bent to steady the release of energy as the rod bucked and jumped. It smashed relentlessly into the fog. The beam blasted the dissonance aside and splashed in corpulent waves of prismatic radiance onto the hideous tower. Revenge wrestled sanity.
Winged beings covered the ground like roaches exposed in bright light.
Boiling out of the black tower, monstrous shadows swallowed the surging brilliance. I could sense him now, the Asian in the tower. It was he who chunneled the shadow primals … cruelty, desire, and fear. The Tokyo vortex blew outward as the torrential energies exploded across the astral.
-Fool. You cannot win, and while you try, your friends shall die.-
Kai’rii’s screams turned to choked gurgles.
“No. Audam, there must be a way. Help me.”
Energy has a cost.
“Just do it. We can save her.”
We cannot, bro. But, I obey.
The medallion spoke to me and whispered a name. A generation of voices blended into one.
I spoke the symbols aloud and the air sizzled as each letter appeared suspended and bright before me. Spectral rays jumped between the etymons like crystal bonds, and the word melted into mercurial liquid. The iridescent fluid spread onto the rod and wrapped it in a sheath of fiery glass.
The rod merged with my body and the near-psi vanished.
I soared high above twilit ground. My red-scaled wings beat a steady rhythm as my neck arched to look down. Black tentacles filled a pit below me. Jets of obsidian shards spewed from it and struck my chest. The suffering of countless millions seared my brain with each shard’s strike. The agony wrenched my heart. Flame and roars came from my throat. Pain enraged me. I dove onto that hideous construct. Vicious scaled claws struck black oily flesh. The pit hissed and spewed foul inks that burned when they touched. I leapt into the air, dragging chunks of black flesh skyward. Thrusting air behind me, I rose on leathery wings.
“I am the Dragon!”
You wish.
“What?”
I’m the weapon, you’re the vessel. Get it? Duh.
“Vessel?”
Seriously. We’re gonna argue or kill this thing, bro?
“Kill it!”
About time.
Black smoking gashes in the pit belched gouts of foul ichor. Fire sprang from my lips. I dove again and yelled as I flew low over the pit. A stream of flame lit a jagged line across the pit.
“Audam?”
Yeah.
“Compassion empowered me.”
True dat. But you haven’t figured that out yet. Right.
“Figured out what?”
What empowered means.
A tentacle lashed out and pinned my claws, pulling me to earth. Like a crab, the black, tentacled flesh scurried from the pit and enveloped my tail and back. Fire belched from my throat as the hideous flesh ate into muscle and tissue. I tried to get up. My hindquarters would not move. Paralyzed, I watched as the black ooze crept up my body and felt nothing.
-You cannot defeat us. You are us. We drove your father insane, killed your mother and your friends. We’ve tormented you for decades. We even made you think you had killed them, then drank your agony like exquisite wine.
You will suffer like no entity before, Lej’jin.-
“My name is Lane.”
The smell of old spice filled the ether.
“I can call compassion.”
You can pull a trigger, yo, but that doesn’t mean you’re the bullet.
“I helped the injured in Colorado Springs.”
You acted with compassion, bro. But are you being compassion? You know. As a way of being, not just some random act. Anyone can give a dollar to the prayer plate. Is it compassion, guilt, or something in between that drives you?
The ooze slid towards my neck, covering my chest. My thoughts spun in slow circles. The surge of forgotten power returned. Ages old, universal. I wanted it. Needed it.
“Audam. Help me.”
Baby steps, bro.
Step one: Gather your being to kill the demon.
Step two:
Step three: Collect underpants.
“What!”
Lightning arched across a silver blade and it plunged into the quivering ooze. Black ichor spewed into the air as the horror exploded. Silver plate mail adorned the figure as the image fluttered. Behind him, Diedra emerged. I’d never noticed how much she looked like my mother. Same black hair, same radiant smile. She bowed and faded. The image shifted and Steve’s visage appeared.
Paladin. He nodded to me in approval. Forgiveness in his eyes. It warmed my soul. He turned to smoke and vanished.
The blackness had died, no … was driven away. It subsided into the astral-ether like noxious gas dispersed by strong winds.
“We beat the demon.”
; I’m going to need therapy.
“Uh.”
You’re the demon, bro. And if you don’t figure it out soon, you’ll take me with you.
“My need for power?”
On the bright side, I look good in black.
# # #
Drone Commander Popol
Popol hung up the phone, the general’s command echoing in his mind. Without turning, he barked, “Launch the NX2s, Micha.”
The lieutenant stifled a gasp. “How many, Sir?”
“All of them, Micha, all of them. Set a two-mile safety perimeter around the tower.” Popol bit the inside of his lower lip then made a short squeezy sound with his tongue.
“That’s insane.” Micha paused.
“Do your duty, Micha. Launch them, now!” Popol snapped.
Popol watched as Micha walked over to the deployment stations and gave the command to the drone operators. Moments later, Micha typed in the launch codes for all remote stations around Japan with the text, “Full Dispersal NX2.”
Waves of drones lifted from specially designed launch pads on the tower roof. Similar clouds of drones lifted from concealed bunkers around Japan. Micha watched as each launch status indicator shifted from red to green. Nagoya, Nagano, Kobe, Kyoto, Fukushima, Sendai, the names continued to scroll for two minutes, until the last of the deadly nerve-toxin drones had slipped into the night.
Popol watched Micha. He knew his duty. Turning to a nearby status monitor, Popol requested a casualty estimate.
“Total Population : 127 Million
Est. Exposure : 20%
Max. Deaths : 25.4 Million
Expected Deaths : 14 Million
Parameters : Nighttime, Winter Conditions, Low Winds, Media Blackout”
Popol briefly closed his eyes. “The fool,” he said.
A clerk nearby looked up. “Sir?”
“Nothing,” Popol replied as he stepped into his office. He knew what needed doing, and quickly. NX2 was a binary nerve agent, harmless until mixed aboard the drones and the NX2 drones could be re-armed endlessly.
Opening a bottom drawer on his desk, he removed a long black tube. Popol screwed the cylinder onto the barrel of his pistol. Silenced.