by S. M. Nolan
Thorne smiled deviously. West clenched a fist, spit through his teeth, “What is this?”
“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Maggie whispered.
Reese crawled to the bars. Maggie helped her up. A cylindrical stone began to rise behind Thorne and West, slowly, silently. The console's screen sprinted through lines of Cuneiform.
“Thorne, what the fuck's going on?” West demanded.
“You wanted it on!” His devious smile widened.
“Uh sir,” one of West's men called beyond the barrier. He touched the field. His arm jerked backward.
“Thorne! What the fuck is this thing?” West barked, stepping toward the field.
Thorne's eyes hardened, “It's a magnetically-repulsive shield meant to contain dense matter.
“What the hell's—”
“You're stuck, asshole!” Thorne spat with satisfied hatred.
Russell watched the rising cylinder, “Maggie?”
West growled, whipped sideways, caught sight of the cylinder. It locked into place at the rear of the dais, half and again his height and slotted in-front. He examined it. A distant explosion shook the cavern.
He growled, “Alpha and Bravo teams move!”
The room gave a quivering tremble. West's radio clicked over, “L-T. Contacts!”
Gunfire blared over the radio, crackled in bursts beyond the chamber. West looked over the edge of the dais, through the console's display, “What the hell's going on out there? I want a report, now!”
“The rebels are here,” a voice radioed. Thorne remained fixed, his plans coming to fruition. “They're in force. Heavy weapons and vehicles. A whole goddamned pla—”
The radio went dead. West turned for his men. The cylinder's face slid away, released foggy air.
“Hold the tunnel!” West ordered.
Russell recognized a clever, deliberate maneuvering to Thorne's actions. There had been more to his earlier assertions than they'd expected. Thorne knew what was happening, what would happen. He'd tried to show Maggie he knew more than he let on, but didn't know how to.
Maggie's heart began to race as something stirred within the foggy cylinder. Heavy feet echoed in her head. The room emptied of all but a few technicians and the cage-guard. Thorne waited. Something clawed the fog; a webbed hand gripped the cylinder's open-edge.
Maggie blinked.
Thorne slammed all his weight into West. He was caught off-guard, hit the barrier. He rebounded to the next, hit at an angle, and launched at the floor. He lie unconscious as Thorne grabbed up his pistol, trained it on him. The cage-guard rushed forward, his rifle raised. Shapes stirred through the fog.
“Unlock the cage or I kill him! I told the rebels where to find us. Let them out or we all die.”
“This is madness! What the hell's going on here?” A blonde woman called across the room.
“Do you really want to die for him?” Thorne demanded, glancing at the cylinder.
The guard eyed Thorne, “How do I know you're not lying?”
“You can't let them kill us!” A black-haired man said.
“No-one cares about your stupid weapon!” A brunette said.
The guard cast a glance between Thorne and the door. He cocked the pistol's hammer with a yell, “Let them out or we all die, starting with West.”
The guard turned, scrambled for the cage key. Thorne ejected the pistol's magazine, threw the gun sideways to face the stone cylinder. The fog faded as a figure emerged.
A muscled, bony frame stepped out, revealed the Ha-Shan from the message. She stood two feet taller than Thorne. His body trembled with terror as her voice boomed in their heads.
“The time to sacrifice has come. Choose.”
“Sacrifice?” Maggie asked, the guard unlocking their cell.
She rushed the barrier to look upon the ancient woman. Russell stepped out after her, Reese on his shoulder, “Name?”
“Franks,” the guard said.
“Hi, Franks, I'm Russell,” he said with a strained breath. “Round up the others, we're leaving.”
Franks nodded. Russell helped Reese to the barrier.
The voice intoned, “What is your choice, Emissary?”
Thorne looked to his feet, took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes. Maggie called to him, “Wait, what choice? What's going on?”
“A sacrifice is required. The device is armed. Choose Emissary.”
“Thorne—”
“The choice must be made.” The voice's vessel looked down upon him.
“Thorne, what the hell—”
The Ha-Shan turned to her. Distant gunfire popped between its movements, “Your Emissary must decide; you or himself.”
Maggie's eyes widened, “But you're—why would you require a sacrifice? None of this makes sense. Thorne!”
The Ha-Shan stepped sure-footed to the barrier with a lengthy gait. She pressed her hand against it lightly, felt its repulsion. Her head turned in a reptilian manner to examine Maggie and the others.
It snapped sideways, cocked her nose upward to sniff the air, “Smells of death abound.”
Maggie swallowed, “Yes, b-but we just want to make sure the weapon isn't used.”
She tilted her head sideways, pressed her hands against the barrier, and closed her eyes, “Then the choice is clear.” She opened her eyes. “Yet confusion clouds you.”
“Yes! Why's there a sacrifice? Why can't we just shut it off? Why are you even here?”
The Ha-Shan's hand slid toward Maggie's chest. Reptilian movements shifted her head from side to side while her fingers trembled against the agitated field.
“Fear plagues you. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the loss of your Emissary.”
“He's my friend, why wouldn't it?”
She looked Maggie over, perplexity relayed eerily through her alien features, “The field cannot be felled until a sacrifice is made.”
“Why?” Reese wheezed at the barrier. “Why require a sacrifice? You were peaceful.”
She slid across the barrier to examine Reese more closely, “There is more death and deception in you than the others.”
Reese stared into the placid, ancient eyes, “We're all susceptible to error.”
“Your words speak the essence of the weapon's existence.”
Maggie countered, “But isn't it against your nature to—”
“What if I refuse?” Thorne interrupted.
“Then the weapon is released beyond the field, and you are rendered immune,” she replied, ascending the dais with a languid, floating grace. “A sacrifice of proper genetic material must be made.”
“Sacrifice West,” Russell said spitefully.
“No!” She said, suddenly caustic. They shivered from her cold glance. “The sacrifice must be made willingly or the weapon releases.”
Thorne looked to his feet, “The choice isn't about who dies, but why.”
“You understand.”
Tears welled in Thorne's eyes, “How does it work? Is—is it painful?”
Her voice warmed him sweetly, “The weapon will release its entire contents, but the organism will not have time to adapt. It will exhaust itself too quickly, killing its hosts in the process.”
Thorne sniffled with a deep, shaking breath.
“You can't make him do this!” Maggie yelled. “We came here to destroy the device, not use it!”
The Ha-Shan's eyes remained fixed on Thorne, “The weapon cannot be destroyed. It may only be triggered. It is the price we all must pay.”
Thorne stared up, the distant gunfire drawing nearer. Small explosions shook the cavern between noisy shouts.
“We can find some other way!”
“The choice is made,” the Ha-Shan intoned.
“No! Thorne!”
The field flared. A thunderous crack sounded. Streams of light shot from the conduits into the columns. Maggie yelled, lunged. Reese and Russell grabbed her. Tears streamed from her eyes.
Beams ruptured the air wi
th sonic booms, snaked crosswise at the barrier from the columns. They sparked, impacted Thorne, suspended him above the center of the dais with a blood curdling scream. His skin turned ashen gray, tinted black by his branching circulatory system. The beams dissolved.
Thorne dropped to his knees. Blood trailed from his nose and mouth, ran like a river. His body shook with violent spasms, teetered precariously in the center of the dais. The field fell away, Thorne slumped sideways into death.
The Ha-Shan knelt beside him, “Your sacrifice is noble, Emissary.”
Maggie felt hot tears drip down her cheeks, her body frozen by Thorne's death.
A second flash engulfed the room. The conduits' oscillating flow inverted. The Ha-Shan lifted Thorne's body, cradled him against her breast. Beams snaked back to the dais' center and into them. It grew to a ball of light, cast the two in silhouette, then flared to obscure them. Maggie reached out.
The light disappeared, the dais empty save a scorch mark. The room trembled as the conduits sank into the floor and the last of the light dissipated.
Distant explosions vibrated Maggie like far-off thunder. She ascended the dais to a pile of ash around the scorch-mark, knelt before it.
“All this time… I never wanted this.”
“Nobody did Maggie,” Russell said, he and Reese beside her. A burst of gunfire echoed in the passage to the surface. “We're not done here.”
She wiped her eyes. The other two hobbled down the dais. Out of sight, West charged Maggie as she stood. He tackled her forward, landed atop her past the steps. He forced her head against the floor with a growl.
“Maggie!”
Russell lunged, left Reese behind. West pummeled Maggie's injury with a fist, stifled her cries against the floor. Gunfire echoed at the chamber's mouth. Omega's soldiers spilled from the passage in defensive positions. Russell released his rage. He knocked West back, slammed his head into a step as he spit and swore. Maggie scuttled forward, rolled over beside Reese. She helped her up. Maggie pushed her into cover behind the dais. West struggled, landed random blows into Russell's body.
“Get the others,” Reese ordered Franks.
He rushed to a bank of computers, flipped over tables. Omega's soldiers fell one-by-one. Death rattles permeated the air through sulfuric gunfire. Something exploded, cast bodies and limbs through the air. Embers rained on the line of tents, ignited their fabric with thick smoke.
West threw his weight into Russell's' collar bone to a resounding crack. Russell yelped. Maggie lunged. Reese peered from cover, breathed deep to retain consciousness.
Maggie collided with West, toppled them the height of the dais. Bullets whizzed past. An influx of rebels appeared beyond the chamber. Russell clawed after Maggie, his right arm limp, useless.
West landed another blow in Maggie's side. He clutched her vest to force her still and beat her face. Maggie snapped, screamed with a vicious, spitting rasp.
A feral, bestial force consumed her. The fire inside her raged, blocked out pain. She struggled against West's grip. With a quick flurry of feet, West threw her off and scrambled to stand.
Russell inched away. Bullets impacted stone around him. He rolled to the edge of the steps, cried out as he crossed his broken bone. Reese fought a light-head to help him behind the dais. Maggie regained her footing, ignored the death flying past.
Omega's remnants fell deeper into the room. Maggie and West circled. West sneered, blood dripping from gashes in his face. Maggie was numb to the blood pooling on her shirt. Her side throbbed with the pulse pounding at her temples
“What now, girl?” West yelled, spitting blood. “You can't beat me!”
Maggie's blood boiled. She charged, slammed West into the computers monitors. They fell over the edge of the console and dais, crashed to the floor below. West grunted from Maggie's weight, his body splayed over crushed monitors.
Her fists unleashed a barrage. West stopped struggling long enough to unsheathe a knife at his side. Maggie jabbed him in the throat with a fist, shifted her blows upward. He choked, taken by surprise. She leaned her weight into an arm against his throat. West raised the knife, buried it in the first spot he found. Maggie smiled. West's eyes widened, his hands struggled. His face turned purple.
“My turn,” she hissed.
She freed the knife buried in her thigh with a hand. It dripped crimson, reflected West's terrified face. Her jaw tightened. The firefight shredded the air around them. Flashes of light and deafening booms fought to impose themselves.
Maggie ignored them, her senses attuned to West's terror.
Her blood dripped from his knife, her eyes narrow. She sank the blade deep into his side. His mouth opened wide to scream. The knife twisted, ripped out. Their blood mingled across steel, dripped over West's body as it slid to his throat.
“No. Mercy.”
With one quick motion, the blade sliced sideways.
The movement vanquished what life remained in West. His body went limp. Blood bubbled from his slit throat until his lungs were empty.
The gunfire died into a haze of smoke and fire. Arabic shouts rushed the dais as Reese choked painfully on hot-air. Russell called for Maggie from beside her. His voice dully impacted her, quickened her breath.
Movement caught her eye and she rose, knife ready. Her body shook with adrenaline and pain. A figure approached with a raised rifle. She looked up with a challenging expression, but he lowered the gun. Dirty, khaki-clothing framed a red bandanna around his mouth as he shouted in Arabic.
Russell and Reese weaved through the smoke, hobbled to the front of the dais to see the figure looming over Maggie. West's body was visible beneath her, a hand still gripping the bloody knife.
“Drop your weapon,” the man requested with a thick accent.
“Maggie,” Russell said as he approached. “It's over.”
“We are no mongrels,” the Rebel shouted. “But we will accept no more death on our part.”
The knife shook with Maggie's trembling body. Reese stepped around her to loosen her grip. Russell watched, caught the wetness of Maggie's shirt. Her soot-covered face was empty, streaked with gashes and cuts, her knee and sleeve soaked from West's blood.
“That's it, Maggie,” Reese wheezed, easing the knife away.
The man took a step. She inched back. He looked her over, “You are bleeding.”
Maggie looked to her side. Her knees wobbled.
“Are you going to let us go?” Russell asked.
“I am going to lead you to the surface,” he said slowly, his eyes on Maggie. “There we will discuss what is to be done with you.”
“You heard him Maggie. We're done. We did what we came to do.”
Maggie flinched, “The tomes. And my gun.”
“Of what does she speak?” The man asked, looking her over.
Russell explained, “Our stuff. We were captured. Not part of the incursion.”
“Then it may be returned if you are not foe. You have my word.”
Maggie's head shook. She fell sideways to a knee. Russell stooped to steady her and the man shouted Arabic orders. Other men rushed over, their weapons at-ease while he spoke to the them. They nodded and approached the others.
“My men will help you to the surface. If what you say is true, we have no quarrel with you.”
“It is. Our friend sent the message that led you here,” Russell said. “There was a group of people, one of them named Franks. They're with us. Not like the others.”
“I will inform my men.”
A group of silhouettes rushed through the smoke with fire extinguishers. The man looked to Maggie, “Come now, this is no place for us.”
The men led Reese away. Russell straightened to help Maggie up, “C'mon, Maggie.”
She stood long enough to collapse into him. He caught her with his uninjured arm, maneuvered her over a shoulder. The man stepped to her opposite side, helped to carry her up to the surface. They emerged into a blinding, full-blown daylight.
The sun baked the desert ruins with a stale stench of death. A line of Omega's unmasked soldiers knelt before a group of khaki rebels beyond the arch. Russell and Maggie were led past them, to a tent alongside a tank.
Cots lined its innards, several wounded men of both factions atop them. The man helped Russell position Maggie on a cot, called a soldier over. He turned away as the solider rushed to a field medic, pointed to Maggie and explained something.
“You have injuries and must be treated,” the man said.
“Is she going to be alright?” Russell asked, peering past him.
“I believe so. At least, her body will heal.”
The field-medic examined Russell's arm, “Why are you helping us?”
He gave Russell a wily eye, “What you've done here is more than it seems. This much I know.”
“What do you know?”
“Only that you have our gratitude…”
He turned away. Russell called after him, “Wait! What about us?”
The man disappeared around a truck. Russell yelped as his arm was lifted. The field medic spoke a steady stream of Arabic, forced him to a cot between Maggie and Reese.
“Who was that?” Reese wheezed. Russell shook his head.
A large troop carrier pulled up outside the tent's flap and a group of men dropped from its back to retrieve the wounded. The tent's occupants were loaded into it, Maggie, Russell, and Reese among them. Once loaded, its started forward and the ruins of Leptis Magna shrank into the distance.
37.
Closure
October 14th
10:45 AM
Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport
The next week passed in a hellishly introspective haze. Between their various states of medical inebriation, and the confinement in Kohms, it was hard to tell exactly how any of them were feeling. After becoming mobile, they boarded a flight to Cairo, met a short layover, then made for home. Maggie's mind was still stuck on what had transpired with West, but Reese and Russell's insistence on remaining light forced it elsewhere.