Stone Soldiers 6: Armageddon Z

by C. E. Martin

  "Welcome to Argon Tower," Jimmy said.

  ***

  Once they'd docked, Kenji and Carol were checked over by a young Doctor, Farb, who cleared them both. Then they'd been separated.

  "Just in case it's not the end of the world," Josie explained. "We have to keep some secrets."

  Carol had been reluctant, but had finally agreed to be led away to the promise of a shower, clean clothes and a good meal. All under escort from two guards in black BDUs.

  Kenji noticed that about the building right away. Everyone in it was wearing black BDUs just like the stone soldiers he'd met in Texas. But only Josie seemed to have one of the sets of augmented reality goggles. She escorted Kenji through corridors patrolled by armed guards, into an elevator and up.

  Kenji saw from the control panel in the elevator that the building had three basement levels and twenty floors.

  "Are we still on the base?" he asked.

  "Nope. About two miles east of it," Josie said.

  When the elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor, she stepped off, followed by Kenji. The girl seemed surprised when Jimmy remained in the elevator.

  "Jimmy?"

  "He doesn't look so dangerous. I'm going to go take a shower and change clothes. Tell Gramps I said hi."

  The elevator doors closed and Kenji could see that Josie was a little upset.

  "Uh, everything okay?"

  "It's nothing," Josie said. "This way."

  She led Kenji down a long hallway, finally stopping at a door bearing a simple name plate. Kenslir.

  Kenji noticed that while the floor had plenty of security cameras, there were no guards present. That seemed odd.

  When he entered the office Josie led him into, the bright light made Kenji wince. He had been wondering if the strange building even had any windows. This office put that thought to rest.

  While the rest of the office was lined with mahogany wall panels, the entire southern wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a south-facing, breath-taking view.

  Kenji looked around the office with its old-fashioned, wooden wall panels. The east and west walls were covered in waist-high cabinets, also made of rich mahogany. At least a dozen shadow boxes hung on the walls—holding various military decorations and even weapons. In the center of the large office sat an enormous mahogany desk, bare save for a phone and banker's light. In front of the desk were two oversized, leather chairs.

  It reminded Kenji of something out of a Teddy Roosevelt documentary. All the office needed were animal heads.

  "Colonel'll be here in a few minutes," Josie said, taking a seat in front of the desk.

  "I'll stand, if you don't mind," Kenji said.

  "Suit yourself," Josie said. She unzipped her combat vest and tried to get comfortable.

  Kenji found himself drawn to the shadow boxes on the walls. They were like miniature trophy cases. He moved from one to the next, studying them to the last detail, committing their contents to memory. There were engraved, commemorative pistols, certificates, diplomas and awards from around the world. All for this mysterious Colonel Mark A. Kenslir.

  From the dates alone, some going back to 1950, Kenji guessed the West Point graduate he was about to meet was going to be very, very old—explaining Jimmy's referring to him as "gramps". Possibly too old to even still be working. Perhaps he was one of the infamous "men in black" so many conspiracy theorists talked about? Working in the background, hiding secrets like the stone soldiers from the public.

  The door to the office opened and Josie sat up straight in her chair. Kenji turned to see the newcomer, and his jaw dropped.

  Colonel Mark Kenslir was a huge man—towering well over six feet tall. He had broad shoulders like a football player, and thick arms that had to be from steroid use, wrapped in a tight, black, long-sleeved knit shirt. Like Josie, the Colonel wore a black combat vest, and he carried a large pistol in a thigh-mounted holster on his right leg. Also like Josie, he wore his tactical goggles up on his forehead.

  "Mr. Nakayama?" Colonel Kenslir said, extending a hand.

  "Uh, yes," Kenji said, taking the hand.

  If Kenslir was a day over forty, Kenji couldn't tell. The hulking soldier had smooth, tanned skin and looked freshly shaven. He appeared fully rested and healthy, unlike the haggard looks of nearly everyone Kenji had met over the past week. Jet black hair was cut close in an old-fashioned flattop like Kenji's grandfather had worn. And the Colonel had strange eyes—deep green, almost black, in color.

  "Mark Kenslir. Please—have a seat," the Colonel said, motioning for the chair beside Josie.

  Kenji shook his head, more than a little bewildered. Perhaps this Colonel was a Junior?

  "I hear you're a psychic," Kenslir said. "A pretty accurate one at that."

  "Uh, yes, sir."

  "What do you see in our future, Mr. Nakayama? Do we win this one?"

  Kenji gulped. No one ever believed him. He'd never gotten to fully explain this to anyone before. Not even his parents. He wasn't sure where to start.

  "Uh... it doesn't work like that."

  Kenslir cocked a black eyebrow. "Do you need something? A personal object? Meditation?"

  "No, that's not it. I've- I've never been this far before."

  Kenslir leaned back and opened a drawer of his desk. He pulled out a handful of candy bars—Snickers. "Candy bar?" he asked offering one to Josie and Kenji.

  "Yuck. You know I hate those things," Josie said.

  "I'm fine," Kenji said.

  Kenslir shrugged, and unwrapped one candy bar, then took a large bite. The large soldier talked around his bite of candy bar. "They tell me you were highly accurate with the S2Rs down in Texas. How'd you manage that?"

  "Look, I know this is going to sound crazy," Kenji started to say.

  Kenslir popped the remainder of his first candy bar in his mouth, then moved on to open the next one. "Crazy?"

  He reached down and pulled a bottle of water from his desk and nodded to Josie. As he held the bottle up, it began to cloud, a thin coating of frost forming on the outside.

  The Colonel unscrewed the lid and kept talking. "My granddaughter here can freeze things with her mind. She's dating a werewolf, and I have seven men in the field right now made of living stone."

  The Colonel paused and took a sip of his freshly-chilled water. "I've been fighting things you can't begin to imagine since 1950. And let's not forget, the dead are not only walking, but killing people. I'm more than used to crazy."

  Kenji swallowed. "This isn't real."

  Kenslir took another bite of candy bar. "Pardon?" he said after he chewed and swallowed.

  "This," Kenji said, motioning around the office. "It's not real. None of it."

  "I'm not following," Kenslir said, taking another bite of candy bar.

  Kenji swallowed nervously. Even to him it sounded crazy. "I used to think I was a time traveler."

  "Time travel's impossible—right?" Josie asked, looking at her grandfather.

  "So far as we know. Dr. King would be the better person to talk to about that."

  "No, I know that's not right. Now," Kenji said. He leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, struggling for the right words. "I'm not really here. This, this office, you, her—you're not real."

  Kenslir finished off his second candy bar then took a drink of water. "You ever have a psych evaluation, Mr. Nakayama?"

  "I'm not crazy. Lord knows I should be... I live the same thing, over and over again."

  "You relive the same day, week, month?" Josie asked.

  "No," Kenji said, shaking his head. "It's not really happening. This is like a vision— but it's more than that. And when it ends, I'll go right back to where I was before it all started."

  Kenslir opened another candy bar and began eating it, bite after bite, chewing quietly while studying Kenji's face. "So, how do these visions end?"

  "When I die."

  "Then what?"

  "Then I have to do it all over again. Until
I get it right."

  "Get what right?" Josie asked.

  "I've had visions that lasted for days— others that lasted for months. They all end when I do whatever it is I was supposed to do. When I don't die, I know it's finally over."

  "That's pretty extreme."

  "You don't believe me," Kenji said, leaning back in his chair.

  Kenslir scooped up the empty wrappers from his desk and put them in a wastebasket under his it. "That's not like any psychic we've got."

  Kenji perked up and opened his mouth to speak.

  Kenslir held up a hand, for Kenji to wait. "We call them Oracles. They see events in the future— experience them as visions as real as us talking. Then they wake up. We use those visions to stop bad things from happening."

  Kenji sighed in relief. He was not a freak. There were others like him.

  "Hold on," the Colonel said. "Our Oracles didn't see this one coming. They've prevented Presidential assassinations, terrorist hijackings and helped us ready for natural disasters. But not a one of them saw this coming. But you did?"

  Kenji considered for a moment. He'd had years to think about his abilities. He'd come up with many theories.

  "Maybe because this isn't real," Kenji said. "We aren't really here. When I die, I'll wake up, back in my parent's house in Chicago, two days before the infection hits. And I'll have to do this all over again."

  "Gloria!" Kenslir barked out loudly.

  The door to his office opened again, and a black woman in a dark powersuits entered. She was very dark skinned, with hair cut down almost to her scalp. She had a stern look on a face that could have been a model's. She stared intently at Kenji for a moment, then shook her head from side to side.

  "Sir," Gloria said as she closed the door behind her. "I can't read him."

  Kenslir seemed genuinely surprised.

  "Like me?" he asked.

  "No. It's... a jumbled mess. So many memories, so many thoughts. It's like he's got a hundred other people's thoughts in there."

  Kenslir turned back to Kenji. "Gloria's a telepath."

  "And he's telling the truth, sir. I do get that much, at least."

  Kenslir placed his elbows on his desk, and steepled his fingers together, considering.

  "What is it you think you have to do for this vision to end?"

  "I don't know," Kenji said. He felt nervous now, knowing the telepath was reading his mind. "I used to think I just had to survive. That I had to get somewhere safe."

  "This is probably the safest building in the United States, right now. How do you know this vision isn't over?"

  Kenji frowned. "There's one way I can tell. I need a book."

  Kenslir shrugged, then opened another desk drawer. He pulled out a Bible and set it on his desk, pushing it across, toward Kenji.

  "It has to be something I've never read before."

  Kenslir nodded, then opened another desk drawer. He looked around in it, then pulled out a slim, paperbound book with a tan cover. "You a firearms enthusiast?"

  "No, sir. I've never shot a gun before in my life."

  Kenslir pitched the small, paperback-sized book at Kenji. He caught it and read the cover. It was an Army Training manual—on the M82A1 Anti-materiel Rifle.

  "This'll do," Kenji said. He took a deep breath and opened the book. He let the breath out, shoulders slumping, as he rapidly fanned through all the pages.

  He set the book quietly back down on Kenslir's desk. "This is a vision."

  Kenslir picked the book up and read through the pages. "How do you know that?"

  "They're blank to me—the pages. My psych class in college said that's what happens in dreams—you can't read books. Your brain can't fill in all that information. That's how I know this is still just a vision."

  Kenslir put the book back in his desk. Then he drew his pistol from his leg holster and laid it on the desk. Josie and Kenji sat up a little straighter in their chairs.

  Kenslir turned the pistol around so the barrel was now pointed at him. He slid the pistol across the desk, toward Kenji.

  "Any other idea as to what you have to do in this vision, Mr. Nakayama? What kind of things have you had to do in other visions?"

  Kenji stared nervously at the pistol. "I... I've stopped things."

  "Like what?" Josie said.

  "Drunk drivers. Accidents where people died. I even got an ambulance to someone once in time for them to be saved from a heart attack."

  "And those visions—they always ended with your death?" Kenslir asked. "Until you got it right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Kenslir leaned back in his chair. "We're well past the point of stopping this. Estimates are that we've lost nearly twenty million civilians in two weeks. And that as many as sixty million more could be infected in the next few days. Our models predict that the entire world has less than a year."

  Kenji paled. He had thought as much—but hearing it made him want to throw up. If getting here wasn't his goal, he couldn't imagine what it could be. Nowhere was safe. It really was the end of the world.

  "If we had known where this started, before it started, we could have stopped it," Kenslir said. "That's what we do."

  Kenji leaned forward now. "Are you sure?" Once more, he felt a sliver of hope.

  "Absolutely. But as I said, our Oracles didn't see this coming. If your visions are accurate, you're the only psychic on the planet who did."

  Kenji looked down at the gun on the Colonel's desk. "Then I need to go back."

  Kenslir shook his head. "And convince me this all about to happen, before it does."

  "Can I see your wallet, sir?" Kenji asked.

  "My wallet?"

  "I can memorize the serial numbers of the bills, your credit card numbers—anything you normally carry, and tell you what you have in your wallet. I can describe your office, your people to you. I shouldn't know any of this back then, right?"

  Kenslir leaned forward and pulled out his wallet from a hip pocket. He pitched it to Kenji. "Your memory that good?"

  "Part of my visions," Kenji said, opening the wallet and going through it. "I remember everything I've ever seen. Every detail of every vision." He pulled out the bills in the wallet, surprised to see two thousand-dollar bills, a number of hundreds, some twenties and only a couple of ones. He fanned them and several credit cards out and began reading the serial numbers.

  When he was done, he put the bills and cards away and pushed the wallet back across to Kenslir.

  "Would you believe me if I showed up on your doorstep, two weeks ago and could tell you what you were carrying in your wallet? Assuming you were carrying the same stuff then?"

  Credit card numbers wouldn't be as impressive, but knowing the serial numbers of individual bills in someone's wallet? Surely that would work. In the modern cashless world, Kenji rarely used paper money. Most of the people he knew were the same.

  "I might," Kenslir said. "And I probably was carrying the same cash I am today."

  Kenji grabbed at the pistol suddenly. He lifted it and pressed the barrel against his temple. Josie grabbed at his arm, but the Colonel held his hand up.

  "You that sure of yourself, Mr. Nakayama?"

  "Yes, sir," Kenji said, finger just touching the trigger. He'd never done this before, so he hoped he was right. He squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened. The trigger wouldn't budge. Kenslir nodded, and Josie pulled the gun away from Kenji.

  "Safety was on," Kenslir said, taking the pistol back from his granddaughter. He re-holstered it. "But I can see you're dedicated."

  Kenji slumped back in his chair. "Now what?"

  "Well," Colonel Kenslir said, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen from a desk drawer. "If you do manage to go back to the beginning, you'd need to know a few things. First, a way to reach me. I'd recommend calling this number."

  He slid a piece of paper across the desk to Kenji. On it was a phone number that the psychic quickly memorized.

  "But how do I get
back? Are we going to wait for me to die of old age?"

  "If this is a vision, Mr. Nakayama, you can end it any time. You control your visions."

  Kenji seemed surprised at that. He'd tried many times to end his visions—only to be stuck in them until his death, and then to have to repeat them again. "I've tried that."

  "Gloria?" the Colonel said, looking at his telepath.

  "It's easy," Gloria said. "Just go back to the beginning of your vision—that last moment before it all started. The point you keep returning to. Think about that moment—tune everything else out. Be that moment."

  "But before you do," Kenslir said. "You need to know one more thing. You need to be able to tell me how to stop this. You need to be able to tell me where it all started."

  "Where?"

  "St. Louis."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  OUTBREAK, DAY 6

  High over the United States, a sleek black shape tore through the thin atmosphere. A long, dart-like triangle of black, the aircraft was pushed along at several times the speed of sound, massive engines producing flame like a rocket ship.

  In the cockpit, the pilot eased the nose of the aircraft down, following the waypoints on the head-up display in his helmet. As always, he was struck by how surreal it was. Modern avionics and next-generation helmet displays in an aircraft that was older than he was.

  The pilot lined up with his waypoints then watched as a beacon flashed green, indicating his payload had just been successfully ejected from beneath his MA-12 Raven. He swung the nose back up, easing the plane back toward the blackness of space. He had just completed his mission—his payload was on its way to St. Louis.

  Several thousand feet below the retreating Raven multi-role aircraft, a long metal cylinder steered itself along with small guidance fins, letting gravity and momentum carry it toward the ground and the large Midwestern city so far below. When the aerodynamic cylinder finally reached thirty thousand feet, a huge parachute billowed out behind it and the cylinder broke apart. Sections of the front half of the cylinder peeled away from each other—connected to the main body by strong cables.