Frost aimed her gun at him, first, then Griffin, then Winslow, then Dodge.
The man stopped. He stared back at them, as if uncertain what to say or do. Then he lifted his finger to his lips.
It was such a strange gesture that none of them immediately knew how to respond.
Frost said, “I’m Sheriff Helena Frost. Who are you?”
“Shh!” the man said, still keeping the finger to his lips.
Frost looked at Griffin, as if asking for help. Griffin didn’t seem to know what to say. Frost started to take a step forward.
The muzzle of the rifle swung up toward her.
“I said, don’t move.”
“Who are you?” Frost asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Goddamn it, lady, shut the fuck up!”
Rising panic in his voice.
Not good, Charley thought. This man was a soldier, one of the best, hired for his expertise. Soldiers like this didn’t scare easily.
Beneath them, the ground trembled again.
Frost lowered her voice and asked, “What is that?”
The soldier just shook his head.
Frost started to take another step forward.
“I’m serious, lady,” the soldier said, keeping the rifle aimed at her, “you take another step, and I’ll drop you where you stand.”
Griffin extended his gun at the soldier. “Not if I shoot you first.”
The soldier shook his head. “You people have no fucking clue what you’re doing. I’m trying to save your lives.”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” Frost said, and began to take another step forward.
Charley had had enough. “Frost, listen to the man, damnit!”
But she didn’t.
“Stop!” the soldier shouted.
Immediately his eyes went wide, fear filling his face. Nothing happened for a second, and then the ground trembled once again.
“What is that?” Frost asked again.
As if in answer, something shot out of the ground. It was just on the other side of the fence, maybe forty feet away. It rose out of the grass, stretching up, high into the sky.
They all turned and watched it, none of them saying a word, as they stared in silence.
“Dear Lord,” Dodge said.
It looked like a giant rope, twisting around on itself, fifty feet in height, but perhaps three times that in total length, hanging suspended in the air.
Only, Charley realized, it wasn’t a rope. Of course, it wasn’t a rope. Nothing would ever be that simple or mundane again.
In an instant the thing shot forward, right at Dodge. It struck like a whip, wrapping around the pastor’s legs and yanking him off his feet.
12
For a moment Frost didn’t move. She couldn’t move, stuck in place, completely shocked.
What is this? Dear God, what is this? she thought.
Dodge screamed as the thing wrapped around his ankles and pulled him away. Frost had the sudden realization that she had never heard the man truly scream before. Shout out, yes. Cry out, certainly. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to get excited at the pulpit. But his voice filled with sheer terror? Never.
Movement to her side jolted her from her paralysis. The soldier rushed past them toward Dodge. He had the rifle out, aimed at the pastor, and for one insane moment, Frost thought he meant to shoot Dodge in the head. It would stop the screaming, that was for sure, but it was unthinkable, and Frost couldn’t allow it. She took aim, but the bullets that tore through the air weren’t hers. The soldier opened fire.
But not at Dodge. The bullets tore past Dodge and chewed up the rope-monster at its base, where it emerged from the ground.
The thing paused briefly, as its base was torn to shreds. It released Dodge’s ankle, then rose up in the air again, wobblier than before. By then, the soldier and Griffin had reached Dodge. They grabbed him together, like soldiers who had worked together before, and dragged him back toward the rest of them.
The whole thing had taken place in the matter of only seconds. Frost knew she needed to do something—she needed to act—but she wasn’t sure what to do. The proper response to this kind of situation wasn’t taught at the police academy. Then again, she doubted the military trained for giant monsters and alternate universes either, yet here were Griffin and the unknown soldier reacting with trained efficiency.
Frost hurried toward them as the creature rose higher into the air. The soldier kept firing at the base of it, but with one hand gripping Dodge, his aim was off.
The thing snapped forward again, right at Dodge and the soldier. It wrapped around the rifle and tore it out of the soldier’s hand. Frost and Griffin opened fire at the thing’s base. What they lacked in automatic fire, they made up for with accuracy. The thing rose up in the air a third time, but Frost had the distinct impression that it was weakened and unsteady.
Now with both hands free, the soldier yanked Dodge to his feet. They turned and started running, all four of them, Winslow and Charley only yards away and watching them, when suddenly they stopped.
A smattering of white motes drifted toward them. From all sides. Frost recognized them as dandelion seeds—much larger than normal, but in this new world everything was bigger.
“We won’t make it,” the soldier said, more to himself than to them. Then, his voice rising to a shout: “Get in the SUV!”
They scrambled forward. After what just happened, they weren’t going to question the soldier, especially when it was apparent he knew more about what was going on than they did.
Winslow climbed into the front passenger’s seat. Charley slid in behind him. Dodge and Frost leapt into the back from the other side while the soldier and Griffin squeezed into the front, Griffin behind the wheel. All four doors slammed closed, just as the dandelion seeds reached them, tapping frantically against the windows. The seeds had actually chased them into the SUV!
The windshield became covered in soft white, like they were stuck in a blizzard. Frost turned to the window next to her, leaning in for a closer look. The large seeds had fluffy tops for catching the air, but also what looked like delicate fins, perhaps for steering or even propulsion. Extending down from the fragile looking top was a long shaft, at the bottom of which was a quarter-sized bulb...with a mouth...and teeth. Sharp teeth.
“We can’t stay here,” the soldier said. “We need to move.”
The key was already in the ignition. Griffin turned it and the engine struggled but did not turn over.
“Oh my God.” Winslow said.
At first, Frost thought Winslow was commenting on the failing engine, but then she noticed where he was looking—the bullet hole near the top of the windshield. The seeds had found the opening. They were trying to push through.
Winslow started to reach forward, thought better of it, leaned over and opened the glove compartment and started rummaging through it. He came back out with the owner’s manual and held it over the bullet hole.
“Here,” he said to the soldier beside him, “hold this in place.”
As the soldier kept the owner’s manual in place, Griffin tried the engine again. Again it struggled but did not turn over.
“It flooded earlier,” Winslow said. “I think because of the crash.”
Griffin tried it again.
Once more the engine struggled but didn’t fire up.
The soldier said, “We have to move.”
Griffin tried the engine a fourth time.
It struggled again, but Griffin kept the key turned, and after a cough, the engine rumbled to life.
Griffin flicked on the windshield wipers. They struggled against the weight of the seeds, some of which burst and smeared creamy white fluid on the glass, but it was enough to give them a view of the outside.
“Head toward the second building,” the soldier said. “The hanger on the left.”
Griffin threw the SUV into gear and punched the gas. They jerked forward. The sudden jolt caused several seeds
to disengage from the vehicle.
Keeping the owner’s manual against the windshield, the soldier reached over and leaned on the horn.
“What are you doing?” Griffin said.
“Just keep going.”
“The door’s closed.”
“Just keep going!”
They were moving fast, fifty yards away, forty yards, thirty, the soldier still leaning on the horn. When they were less than twenty yards away, the large door began to open. It wasn’t opening very quickly, though, and Griffin had no choice but to press down on the brakes to give it enough time so they could slip through.
Griffin slowed to a stop, threw the SUV into park. Behind them, the hanger door lowered, cutting out the sunlight. For a moment there was complete silence, all of them just sitting there breathing quietly.
Then the world turned to fire.
13
The flame came at them from the front of the SUV. For a moment, Griffin wondered if that creature in the sky really had been a dragon, and was now breathing fire over them. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for the sudden burst of flame—he no longer had the luxury of discounting anything as impossible.
The temperature in the SUV rose about twenty degrees. High pitched screeching filled the air. It wasn’t until the seeds began falling away from the windshield that Griffin realized the sound was coming from them. It was so high pitched it was barely even audible, but he could hear it well enough. He saw Winslow closing his eyes and turning his head away, and he knew the man heard it too.
The flame died out for a moment, and in that moment Griffin saw it wasn’t a dragon on the other side of the blackened glass, but a man holding a long hose out in front of him.
A flamethrower.
The fire started again, and the man began circling the SUV, coming toward Griffin’s side and working his way toward the rear of the vehicle, the whole time the seeds continued to scream and cry out as they burned to death. Eventually, the man had circled the SUV, and the flame had stopped long enough that they could all see him standing at the front again, the flamethrower now aimed toward the ground.
Winslow lowered the thick manual from the hole in the window. It was smoldering, a burnt crater nearly halfway through the text.
“Now what?” Griffin asked.
Beside him, the big soldier said, “Let’s get out.”
The doors opened, and they all stepped out, gingerly at first because some of the seeds were still alive and on fire. Their screams faded with the dying flames. Griffin hesitated a moment, then crushed several with the heel of his boot like they were ants.
The soldier pushed past Griffin and headed for his comrade, a tall black man with a bald head. After a quick exchange, the original soldier headed to a side room.
Besides the SUV, the rest of the hanger was empty except for two Humvees parked at the far end.
“Who are you?” Frost asked the man with the flamethrower.
The man grinned. “Who am I? Who are you?”
“My name’s Helena Frost. I’m the sheriff of this town.”
“And what are the rest of you supposed to be, the Three Amigos?” The grin lingered on his face for a moment, then started to fade as his eyes focused on the door through which his friend had left. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Frost said, “We should ask you the same question.”
The man looked at her again. “It’s none of your goddamned business what we’re doing here. Fact is, we tried to save your lives. We saw you coming and gave you warning shots. Tried to keep you away from this place.”
“Be that as it may,” Frost said, “that still doesn’t answer the question. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“The name’s Osterman,” the man said.
“You’re a soldier?”
The man sniffed. “Used to be.”
“What are you now?” Frost asked.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“This is my town.” Frost crossed her arms. “I can go wherever I please.”
Osterman shook his head. “You have no fucking clue whose town this is.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Winslow asked.
The soldier who had saved them outside exited the side room. “What are you telling them?” he asked Osterman.
“Nothing,” Osterman said, looking defensive. “Told them they fucked up, is all.”
The other man was nodding his head. “That they did.”
Frost’s voice was nearly a shout. “I don’t want to place you under arrest, but if you give me no choice, I will.”
“Arrest us?” Osterman snorted laughter. “For what?”
“Trespassing.”
“This is a National Guard Depot,” the second soldier said. “This property belongs to the U.S. government.”
“Not anymore,” Griffin pointed out. “We’re a long way from the good ol’ U.S. of A.”
“But for how long?” Osterman shrugged out of the flamethrower straps and placed the tank and thrower on the ground. He said to the other man, “So what should we do about this, Boyle?”
Boyle tilted his head back and forth, thinking about it. “I guess we don’t have much choice in the matter, do we?”
“No,” Osterman said, “I guess we don’t.”
The two men moved instantaneously, like they had practiced it a thousand times—pulling 9mm Berettas from their holsters, aiming them straight at the group, all in one quick, fluid motion.
Frost didn’t flinch. Didn’t go for her gun, either, though the instinct was hard to tamp down. “The hell do you two think you’re doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Sheriff? All of you need to drop your weapons and raise your hands, or we will drop you where you stand.”
14
Lisa didn’t hear the buzzing at first.
She was too preoccupied with thoughts of her parents, somewhere far, far away. Part of her wished she had taken them up on their offer and gone to Ashland, to watch the fireworks. That same part wished she had talked Radar into coming with her. If she had, maybe he would have agreed, and maybe the two of them would have been lying on a blanket, staring up at the sky, watching fireworks explode above them while the town disappeared. Maybe their fingers would have touched first, then their hands clasped together in silent union, but no more than that—not with her parents nearby. Would they have shared their first kiss in private, like they had in the bell tower? No, but maybe they could have sneaked away for a couple of minutes, using the excuse they both needed to use the restroom, and maybe they could have dashed into the shadows behind one of the buildings. Radar could have held her close and leaned forward and—
“Lisa?”
She blinked. Turned her head and found Radar giving her a worried look.
“You okay, Shadow Liar?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she forced a smile at his reference to the clever anagram he’d made of her name, when they had been in the church’s bell tower. When the world had gone haywire.
She nodded.
“Are you sure? For a moment your lip was quivering and you…”
He didn’t say it. Didn’t have to.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, and placed his hand on her back.
She closed her eyes at his touch. It made her feel at peace, despite her inner turmoil. After all, Radar was doing everything he could to help keep her mind off her parents. It wasn’t his fault she kept thinking about them.
“I just…” her voice cracked, “I just miss them so much. And not because it’s been so long since I’ve seen them, but...because...I might never see them again.”
Taking her into his arms, her whispered into her ear, “I know...”
“I don’t even think they realize I’m gone. Or that they’re gone. Or that—” She shook her head, knew she was on the verge of tears and tried to push them away. “Do you think they’ve even noticed yet? Like, not just my parents, but everybody else in Ashland? Or the world
?”
“It’s been like eighteen hours,” Radar said. “I think they’ve noticed.”
“Assuming time works the same wherever we are. What if we’re experiencing the same moment in time on different worlds? Then no time at all will have passed.”
Radar squinted at her. “Did...you come up with that on your own?”
“Don’t look at me like you’re surprised I said something smart.” She gave him a half smile. She’d actually overheard a conversation in the grocery store. It was one of Winslow’s theories. But she wasn’t about to tell Radar that now. She sniffed back her tears. “Asshole.”
His eyes shifted up to meet hers. The serious look in his eyes stole away what remained of her smile. “Do you really want to know what I think?”
Biting her lip, she nodded.
“I’ve been thinking…” He cleared his throat. “What if everybody else is gone? That it’s not just us—Refuge—moving from world to world. What if the worlds are moving to us?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He shrugged, tried on a goofy smile. “You asked what I thought. Though now that I’ve said it out loud, I think you’re theory is better.” He touched her cheek, wiping an errant tear away with his thumb. “Now come on, let’s check out this thing.”
They were in Mr. Herman’s private observatory, which proudly sat in the backyard. It wasn’t a very large structure—maybe the size of a giant shed—with a domed roof and an opening for the telescope. With Mrs. Herman’s permission, they had ventured out here to inspect it alone. Like many of the kids in town, they’d seen it on a field trip—it was the closest thing you could get to a science museum this far north—but they never really got to look at it up close.
The telescope itself was huge, much larger than the one Lisa’s parents had gotten her years ago for her birthday. Like a lot of kids, she had been fascinated with the moon and the stars and the distant planets. She supposed she was still fascinated to some extent—did that fascination with other worlds ever really go away?—but she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked through her telescope.
Refuge Book 3 - Lost in the Echo Page 6