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Bermuda

Page 20

by Karim Soliman


  Heather? Where's she now? He realized, from Akmenios's mind, that the whole crew was taken by the Atlanteans to their camp at the mountains before the whole territory was bombarded. Almost half of the mountainous area was razed to the ground. That son of a bitch. No one Burke wanted to see dead like that Akmenios.

  But why bother? Do you think they thought about your fate when they left you here alone? To them, you were always an intruder, a weirdo.

  What if Heather was still alive?

  And why are you concerned about Heather in particular? You can't be serious, Burke.

  She's the most person to whom you bear positive feelings. The Shomrunk's image taking the form of Heather while saying so crossed Burke's mind.

  No, no, no. She was just nice to me. That's all.

  I tell you what, you'd better focus on how you're going to escape from this damned island.

  Burke stopped at a closed wide gate that led to the dock premises. Why don't I remember any closed gates when we came? The absence of guards, in addition to the closed gates, confirmed his doubts about what was happening outside.

  Unlocking the gate was not a problem for Burke. He knew how to handle that small white hemisphere in the middle of the gate. But he had no idea what was waiting for him behind it. It's all in. Burke decided to give it a shot. He moved two fingers on the surface of the hemisphere in a circular way. Yellow symbols appeared to him in the hemisphere, announcing the gate was now unlocked. Burke watched it open before he warily stepped in, trying not to make any sound that might draw the Griseos' attention to his presence.

  Seems I missed a lot while I was sleeping. Whatever happened to those humanoids, it would not matter. Every step forward was getting him closer to his salvation. There was no way he would back off.

  The wide yard of the dock was unexpectedly clear, and no one was guarding the two parked ships. The upper portal at the high gray ceiling leading to ground level was open. "The force is with you today, Burke," he muttered when he reached the closed craft hatch. As he did with the locked dock gate, Burke handled it smoothly.

  "Stop."

  The order coming from behind him was not in English, and the creaky voice was not Akmenios's. As Burke turned slowly, he beheld Akmenios's assistant surrounded by ten armed gray guards.

  "This is where your journey ends, hominum."

  35. Gray Hell

  With the greatest detestation, Burke glared at the assistant's face. If this gray humanoid had the ability to read minds like his boss, he would know that Burke wanted to beat him hard.

  "You heard me, right?" the humanoid asked in Latin. "I mean you understand what I say."

  Burke didn't have a plan in mind, but he decided not to reply.

  "What are you thinking?" the Griseo continued. "I watched everything you did, so stop pretending. It's pointless."

  He was watching? Then, why did he wait until Burke reached the dock? "Was that another investigation of yours?" Burke asked in Latin.

  The subordinate seemed to be thinking for a moment before he said, "We all know it's not about you, don't we?"

  "Is it the Shomrunk you mean?" Burke noticed that the humanoids made a small step backward when he leaned toward them. The guards tightened their grasp on their weapons. Their narrow eyes and small mouths barely showed any expression, yet Burke could sense a slight fear in their body language. With his back to the craft hatch, Burke was cornered by the ten guards. They kept their weapons held tight though, as if they were surrounding a band of armed soldiers. The real threat here is me.

  "We know you're not alone. He's with you. Inside," said the humanoid in his annoying creaky voice. "You're not that smart to learn Latin or memorize the structure of our tunnels network that fast."

  "So, it's a he," Burke scoffed. "Are you sure about that? He almost convinced me of something else."

  "You don't know what will happen if you run away, right?" The Griseo ignored Burke's last comment. "Assuming you find a way to pass the Storm Shield, the Shomrunk will guide you through your way back to him, without you knowing anything about it. He'll erase everything about your journey from your mind and will send you back to us. And you know what, this is your best scenario. Because I believe he'll get rid of you and find someone else to do the job you failed in."

  Burke wanted to mock what the humanoid said, but it made sense. It had already happened before. "Oh, please! Don't tell me you're trying to persuade me to stay here. I was starting to love the place. Leaving it would tear up my heart."

  "Stay?" the humanoid echoed. "I objected to the idea of keeping you in the headquarters, especially after the first mind-connecting session. It was obvious to me that your presence became a threat to us, but Akmenios saw something else. He believed he could use you to lead him to the Shomrunk, and insisted on not listening to me. Look at the mess you've done so far. Thanks to you, the Atlanteans have almost found our place. Adding to that, I have no idea what information the Shomrunk has extracted from Akmenios's mind about us—I'm sure he has done so; you're a clear piece of evidence. With such information, I'm sure the Shomrunk now is much better prepared for his next raid on us. And no one knows what sort of surprises awaits our people."

  Was it strange that Burke felt worried in Akmenios's absence? The conversation with his assistant didn't bode well.

  "For the first time, our presence on Earth is at risk because of you both, but I can rectify that before it gets worse." The assistant stepped back at the same time the guards advanced.

  "You can't do this without Akmenios's permission." Burke swallowed, looking for a way out.

  "As I'm the one in charge now, I can do anything I see it is for the good of our race."

  "You are the one in charge?" Burke stalled, trying to buy some time. "What about Akmenios? Where's he? What have you done to him?"

  "I did nothing. He left to finish off the remaining of your friends, if that reassures you."

  The remaining? Who were those remaining? Was Heather among them? "You should wait for your leader's return, still."

  "Whether he's back or not," the humanoid said, "he's no longer our leader."

  "Are you leading a mutiny?"

  "I'm doing what's right for our people. I won't wait to watch more men die from our side."

  "And what about those humans you killed?" Burke grunted.

  "I have wasted enough time with you already." Standing behind his guards, the assistant ordered them, "Kill him."

  * * *

  Something was flying nearby, Powell could tell.

  "Shit! Get down, everybody!" he yelled. "Hide in the bushes!"

  The white rays coming from the sky didn't give everybody the chance to abide by Powell's order. Two seconds after his warning, the field was ablaze, two Atlantean cannoneers falling dead.

  "An aerial attack!" Powell rolled on the ground. "Move! Move!" He crawled, trying to shelter himself behind a huge tree trunk from the white rays shower. He motioned for Heather and Jay to join him behind the colossal trunk. Daniel, Santino, and Susan buried themselves in the bushes opposite the tree. The three remaining cannoneers, who were trying to evade the aliens' shots, were not able to aim at their opponents.

  Powell glanced upward and spotted eleven flying scooters, like the one he had seen at the Atlantean camp with Tolarus. The major difference this time was the face color of their riders.

  But one face in particular boiled the blood in Powell's veins. "Akmenios." He bit his lower lip. "I'm done with this bullshit." Especially after he could smell the brine in the air. Failing to escape now, after getting this close to the shore, was not an option.

  Powell held the light cylindrical gun, trying to remind his hands of its weight. From his spot, he aimed at the first alien he saw, pressed the dotted part at the edge of his weapon—as Tolarus had taught him—and watched his shot hit the alien dead.

  "Not yet, bitches," Powell snarled. "Not yet." The marine sniped one more gray face before he ran from his huge tree to another one. He did not
want to drag the aliens' fire to Heather and her colleagues.

  The three Atlanteans struck three aliens dead before they lost a cannoneer. "Damn!" Powell gritted his teeth as he watched the scene. The remaining cannoneers took too much time to take cover from the aerial attack, making themselves easy targets for the aliens during their retreat.

  Five gray faces were down and now six remained against three humans. Taking into consideration the aliens' aerial superiority, the battle was still unfair. Powell hit one more alien, and immediately he changed his shooting spot. One second later, a white ray shower blasted his previous spot. "Where are you, son of a bitch?" Powell squinted, seeking Akmenios among his fighters.

  And at last Powell found him. The gray alien hovered in a curved route, making it hard to shoot him down. For a while, Powell didn't follow the battle and kept his focus on his target. I swear I'll kill you, even if it's the last thing I do in my life. Powell kept his patience, waiting for a clear shot to finish the aliens' leader. He didn't want to reveal his spot for nothing.

  And his moment was about to come. Akmenios hovered at a lower altitude, slowing down a bit, as if the alien was looking for something.

  "Take that." Powell pressed his weapon and watched Akmenios's scooter explode. The gray bastard was history now. Unless he is immune to fire.

  But the battle wasn't over.

  Powell realized he had dragged the other aliens' fire to his spot. He was late only by a second when he dove to dodge the coming white rays that blasted the bushes he was hiding in. He cried out in agony, his legs killing him with an unbearable burning.

  "Damn!" Powell growled, lying on his back. Somehow, he was still conscious despite the pain. Seeking the gray aliens, he gazed at the sky, but his supine position didn't allow him to watch the whole scene. All he spotted was the two aliens shooting, most probably, an Atlantean cannoneer. Were there still any survivors from his side? Only one fact he was sure of: there were two damned aliens still alive.

  Powell was unnoticed, and those aliens were busy hunting someone else. Considering his condition at the moment, he had only one shot to kill one gray face. Powell would be a sitting duck the moment the second alien spotted him.

  Unless the marine acted fast.

  This should work. It had to. Aim and press, then aim quickly and press, he reminded himself of what he was about to do. The key was to be faster than his second target. Otherwise, he would be undone.

  Aim and press. Then aim quickly and press. That was what he did. For a second, he forgot his pain when he saw those two fireballs floating in the sky.

  "Yes!" Powell was excited, ached, and infuriated. Now, he could have some rest. He let his eyelids close. Everything went black for a while.

  "Powell! Wake up!" a faint familiar voice called out to him. It sounded as if it was coming from a deep well.

  "He's still breathing!" he heard another louder voice, a hand slapping him on his cheek.

  The first face he recognized when he opened his eyes was Daniel's. He was the one slapping Powell, Heather, Santino, Jay, and Susan standing behind. "He is awake, thank God!" Heather exclaimed.

  Having no idea how long he had lost his consciousness, Powell strained his back to rise and check on his burned legs. "No need for that, Major." Daniel held him by both arms. "You'll be okay."

  The way Daniel said it made Powell feel worried. Were it not for the pain in his legs, the marine would think he had lost them. "What happened?"

  "Could be a third-degree burn." Heather hurried to him, and gently, she helped him lie on his back again. "Would you give me a hand here?" She turned to her crew. "He must get rid of those trousers first."

  "Tell me the truth, Dr," he said tiredly. "How bad is it?"

  Heather stared at him, probably thinking of a lie. "You will need a new pair of trousers when we go home."

  "Dammit!" Santino snapped. "I can't touch them with bare hands."

  Pressing her lips together, Heather peered at Santino before she turned to Powell, a forced smile on her face. "I told you."

  "Guys, guys." Susan's voice was nervous when she gazed at the bushes ahead. "I hear something."

  "I hear something, too," Daniel seconded. "We are not done with those Griseos, it seems."

  Unfortunately, Daniel was right. From the shrubs rose a gray figure. He was injured, his limp made it obvious. He should be dead, not injured, Powell thought, eyeing Akmenios who held a spheroidal weapon.

  36. The Last Warrior

  There was no way out for Burke. In front of him were the aliens, behind him the craft. Death by the lethal white ray was inevitable.

  "Get out of here!"

  A Latin holler came from behind the humanoids, who turned to face the intruder. Without a second thought, Burke complied, though he wasn't sure how he was supposed to get out of here that simple. He dove the same moment an explosion slammed his back against the outer body of the ship. The pain didn't make him bother checking what was happening to the damned Griseos, but their screams made him rest assured that their fate was way worse than his.

  Groaning, he got himself up on his feet. It must be his lucky day to receive such a nasty hit in the back without any paralyzed limbs or fractured vertebrae.

  His rescuer was a bronze-skinned guy wearing a weird astronaut suit. The arm cannon he held was surely the source of the missile that blasted the Griseos. "Thanks," Burke said in Latin, but his rescuer ignored him as he strode toward the aliens' bodies, drew a spheroidal device—similar to those aliens' weapons—from his belt, and started shooting each of the fallen gray-faced creatures.

  "Hey! That's enough!" Burke waved both hands, the glare on the shooter's face making him regret interrupting that maniac. "Ok. Never mind."

  His intimidating rescuer resumed his bloody work with the aliens' corpses, and when he was done, he returned his weapon to his belt and said, "Never turn your back to those devils until you make sure they're all dead."

  Now Burke was relieved. This maniac might be a friend after all. "You're one of those Atlanteans, aren't you?"

  The guy stared at Burke before he said, "I'm sure I am. But it seems, you're not, despite your fluency in Latin."

  "Burke is my name." He extended his hand to greet his rescuer, but the latter didn't move a muscle.

  "You're one of them." A smile spread across the rescuer's face as he extended his hand in return. "Tolarus is my name."

  "You've arrived just in time, Tolarus." Burke shook hands with the Atlantean. "How did you find me?"

  Tolarus sighed. "That's a long story, and I'm afraid we must move now. Maybe you should ask me where I'm taking you."

  * * *

  Half an hour ago,

  Atop the aliens' headquarters, Tolarus stood unarmed, waiting for the Griseo to finish him off with his spheroidal weapon. Dodging a white ray from such a close range was impossible, and his cannon was out of missiles.

  But that wasn't the case of another cannon.

  Tolarus was startled when he saw the Griseo blown by a missile coming from his right side. Petrified by the shock, Tolarus needed a moment to realize he was still alive, and all credit went to one heavily-wounded fellow cannoneer.

  Tolarus hurried to his rescuer, who laid his back to the ground, his chest blasted by the Griseos' rays. "You did it." Finding the right words to console a dying fellow was a hard task.

  "Only one missile remained." The wounded soldier handed Tolarus his arm cannon. "Make it count. I won't survive this shot."

  Tolarus held his soldier's shoulder until he passed away in his arms. Those monsters, he thought as he took a moment to look at the brave soldiers he had lost. Tolarus was on his own now, but he still had a mission to finish. Those soldiers didn't die in vain. No Griseo shall kill an Atlantean after today.

  Tolarus rose to his feet. From the ground he grabbed the very spheroidal weapon that was about to kill him. Tolarus had never held one before, but he had noticed how the Griseos compressed the spheroid to unleash their deadly whit
e rays. It's still working. Wishing the same fate for the drill, he blasted a spot on the field ahead to test his new weapon.

  He walked until he reached the hole the drill had made, but soon he was disappointed. Standing by the edge of the hole, Tolarus eyed the drill stuck in its way down. It was impossible from his spot to figure out what was hindering the machine. I must jump down to check the machine, he thought. But the odds of surviving that jump were not that high, if they existed at all.

  He gave the dead Griseos one last gaze. Those monsters must have come here in some way. Most probably, the route they had taken to reach him and his cannoneers had a near outlet; he could tell from how soon they showed up after destroying the defense tower.

  Tolarus strode toward the woods from which the Griseos had come. Following their fresh tracks could be the way to find their means to reach this spot. "Here you are," he muttered when he saw a small alien craft standing on the ground. Holding the spheroidal weapon, he cautiously approached the open hatch. Swiftly, he hopped inside, pointing his weapon at different directions, but no more Griseos were waiting for him here. It seems they were confident of defeating us. It was strange that the craft was left unguarded.

  It wasn't his first time to see a Griseo craft from inside, but he never flew one before. The control panel design was somehow similar to that of the Atlantean vessels, though. Tolarus had no choice but to use his intuition and touch that circular gray pad at the center. He heard the hatch close, and the Griseo craft started to move upward.

  It's moving in a preset route. Tolarus wasn't in control of the vessel, which turned slightly to the left and started to land after a couple of minutes without his interference. It didn't slow down. For a moment, Tolarus believed he would hit the ground with this vessel before a hatch in the ground hidden by the grass opened, and the vessel continued its flight inside. Having no idea whether he managed to break into the Griseos' headquarters or he was captured by this craft, Tolarus didn't try to mess with the control panel until the vessel landed at what looked like an underground dock, one Griseo craft parked beside his.

 

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