Lost Hope (The Bridge Sequence Book Three)

by Nathan Hystad

  We shut the doors and watched the cop car speed off before pulling a U-turn. The driver gave us a light tap of his horn.

  “Nice work, Tripp,” Veronica said.

  “You too. With the sign language.”

  “That accent was terrible,” I told Tripp, and he grinned.

  “Got the job done, didn’t it?” He laughed again, and we followed the gravel path to the fence. There was a chain looped over a locking device, but the padlock wasn’t closed. Tripp tugged the gate open, and we searched for signs of airport security. The place looked empty.

  “Every one of these airports has a helicopter tour business,” Veronica said, scouring the tarmac.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “A coastal town large enough for their own airport? You bet I am. Did you see that view from the beach? People pay big bucks to visit and go on a helicopter ride.” She smirked, and indicated the end of the lot. “There. Past the buses.”

  The rain had relented, giving way to a spattering of drops. We hadn’t seen any more meteors since the beach, and I took that as a good sign. I hoped the emergency responders didn’t encounter the Rodax hiding out near the destroyed Umir.

  There were ten biplanes of various sizes lined up, and Veronica slowed. “These might be better, but we have nowhere to land out at the island. It’s not very accessible.”

  “We can land a copter on those rocks?” Tripp asked, and she shrugged.

  “Not sure. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” She moved past a skydiving company’s building to the helicopter tour section. The “Coastal Copters” sign was blown over, and we had our pick of five flying machines.

  “Tripp, see if you can break in. I’ll need the keys.” Veronica surveyed the copters and pointed to the middle. “This is the best option. Since we’re on a one-way trek, we should be able to make it there, as long as we’re not bringing everybody. Seats six comfortably, but I’d prefer three max, for fuel consumption.”

  “We need a Rodax with us.” I stared at the white helicopter, finding the company’s logo on the side.

  “Then someone will have to stay back.”

  Tripp arrived with a bunch of keys. She sorted through them and found a match after checking a few.

  The wind let up, and the skies were lighter than before. That was a good break.

  We entered the helicopter, and Veronica went straight to the pilot’s seat. “We’re full. At least I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “What happens if we get out there, and the weapons and ships are inaccessible?” I asked her.

  “Then we’re stranded.” Veronica continued the powering up sequence.

  “Tripp, I’ll go with Veronica. You stay with the Rodax when we reach the beach. Keep them hidden.” Tripp and I sat on the bench together.

  “Fine. How fast does this thing go?” he asked Veronica. The cabin was getting loud as the rotors increased their speed.

  “It’ll take a couple of hours… maybe three, depending on the conditions.” She flipped another switch and told us to buckle in.

  I spied a man down the tarmac, and tapped her on the shoulder. “We’d better leave.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Veronica had been shaken by this experience, but she was in her element in a pilot’s seat. She knew how to fly, and that was clear as we lifted off the ground. I peered at the town below. People were on the streets again, now that the storm had subsided. With the power out, and the lack of communication, they’d probably thought they were doomed for an hour or so.

  Even from here, I could see another grocery store, its lot overflowing with cars and people. Somewhere in the distance, I saw a plume of smoke rising. I considered the Rodax’s warning to leave before another Umir arrived.

  When we neared the coast, we waited until we saw the emergency vehicles rolling north on the highway, and lowered near the water. Baska emerged from the lifeguard’s tower and bounded toward us.

  “We have to be quick. Gren led your people away, but they might return,” Baska said.

  Tripp left the helicopter. “Can you access the weapons out there?”

  Baska nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then hop in.” Tripp moved aside, and Baska clambered into the cabin. His height caused him to stoop until he was seated.

  “There are two craft out there. We’ll need another pilot,” Baska said.

  Veronica craned her neck and smiled at the alien. “You’re looking at her.”

  “Good luck, Tripp. We’ll be back,” I assured him, and he didn’t look convinced.

  “Stay safe,” he muttered, and closed the door, patting it with a palm.

  I glanced at the horizon. We were a couple of hours from reaching the first step in our pivotal mission to save Earth. Veronica lifted us from the sandy beach and flew over the endless ocean. One more bright flash materialized in the sky, implying another Umir had arrived. And judging from the direction, it was waiting for us.

  2

  Dirk Walker slept in the cabin on Rimia.

  The investment banker was activated. Dirk was Claude Giroux in this unconscious state. He smelled what the Parisian sensed; he tasted the cigarette and felt the longing for a glass of Bordeaux. This was the man he’d shared his nights with nearly every day during his time on Rimia. It seemed his return to this world connected the pair once again.

  The Objects were close. The attuning had begun.

  Claude walked through the alley and flipped his cigarette into a pool of water. His mistress was with him, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. They reached a black door, and he banged on it three times. A cowled man opened it, stepping aside. “Entrez.” Come in. They spoke French, but Dirk’s mind translated the words.

  The room was dark; flickering candles in archaic metal wall sconces sent shadows crawling along the white stucco. It had all come to this.

  Dreen allono reespenlen. He was prepared for arrival.

  “Where are they?” He shucked off his heavy wool jacket, overheating in the damp space.

  Their guide jabbed a crooked finger toward a wooden door.

  “Good. Watch our backs,” Claude told him. He clutched Emilie and half dragged her to the doorway. It creaked and groaned as he tugged the cast-metal handle.

  The people inside were terrified. One of them met his gaze: a young woman, maybe twenty. Her eyes went wide, as if she expected him to be their savior. He almost smiled. Maybe he did, because her expression shifted and she began to sob. They begged for their lives when he reached the tray with the knives laid out on it.

  He handed a weapon to Emilie, and she assessed the weight, using the tip to poke the end of her finger. It welled with blood, and she stuck the bleeding point into her mouth, licking it clean.

  “Which do you want?” she asked. There were four victims in the room, all wearing red robes, all young and virile. The attuning had to be perfect. Some of the Americans had attempted this too early, and he’d heard about the issues that had arisen. Believers going crazy. He wasn’t a fool. Not Claude Giroux.

  The door was closed, and he peered at it, making sure no one was watching. A floor to ceiling mirror leaned against the wall, and he caught Emilie’s gaze in it momentarily, before answering her question. “All of them.” He spun on a heel and jabbed his blade into her stomach. Her knife clattered to the wooden floor, and she gasped as her hands pressed to her wound.

  “Dreen allono reespenlen.” He said the phrase over and over, starting at a whisper. Emilie, his mistress for the last five years. His lover. His paramour. He walked behind her and slit her throat.

  Claude had read from the Book. Few were given access, but he’d been the previous leader’s right-hand man. He understood that to reach the full effect of the attuning, you must have four sacrifices. It helped if one was someone you loved, cared for deeply. He watched as her blood seeped from the wound and she collapsed to the floor.

  The chained victims were in a frenzy now. The man on the right was a strong specimen, and he test
ed his metal shackles, trying to either tear his arms free or break from the wall. It wouldn’t work.

  Claude repeated the phrase, and stabbed the man. He pulled out the wet blade and did it again, and again. “Dreen allono reespenlen.” The resistance stopped, and he wiped the blood with his fingers, streaking it over his brow.

  Claude continued his task, killing all of them. If four was an adequate number, five would be better. When the final victim took her last breath, and he had most of their blood on his face, he knelt in front of the mirror.

  He pictured his saviors, the Unknowns. He welcomed them into his head. Claude called for the aliens to take him—one in particular. Their leader.

  His eyes sprang open, and he was someone else, yet still himself.

  Claude felt a tinge of sickness at the carnage around him. The smell was awful. Blood and death were everywhere.

  “Who are you?” he asked, sensing this was not the Unknowns. The voice that came out of his mouth was not his own.

  “Dirk Walker.” His eyes were a different color. What was happening to him?

  “Are you an Unknown?” Claude asked out loud.

  There was a pause, and Claude felt the presence struggling to take control. “No. I’m here to kill you.”

  Claude held a knife, and it lifted toward his face. He tried to stop his arm, but he’d lost command of his motor skills. The blade moved slowly, and he sensed the other being’s difficulty at mastering Claude’s puppeteering. He fought this Dirk Walker, attempting to banish him with thoughts alone.

  He heard the voice grunting and groaning in protest, but the tip of the knife came closer. It scratched him under the eye, and for a second, Claude thought this was it. What a waste.

  Then the blade fell and his arms went limp.

  Dirk gasped for breath and sat up in his cot. A drop of blood trickled down his face, and he wiped it away. It was in the exact spot where Claude’s cut had been.

  “Are you okay?” Opor stood at the entrance, only it wasn’t his Opor. It was Rewa, the being that had once lived inside Hunter Madison.

  “I’m fine.” He got out of the bed and rubbed his temples. The headache was coming. He saw concern etched on Opor’s face and gave in. “It happened again. I was Claude. He killed his girlfriend and four innocents, trying to attune. I almost stopped him.”

  “This is interesting,” she said. He could only think of Opor as her, and not Rewa, or Hunter. “Maybe there’s a way we can use this to our advantage.”

  “Is that so? You told me we’d be preventing your people from invading Earth, and here we are, hanging out in the village at Rimia.” He almost wished he could go back and finish the job with Claude, but he’d have to save that for another night. So much blood. The ease with which the Frenchman had snuffed the lives from those people. It was disgusting. If all the Believers were like that, they were in for a world full of trouble.

  She pointed in the direction of the water. “We leave today.”

  Dirk stared at Opor, wishing she were here instead of this alien being. He’d shared this very space with Opor for several good years, before they’d parted ways. “Can you sense her? Is she inside?”

  Opor nodded, her hazel eyes looking so wrong to Dirk. “She’s here. I can feel her affection for you, and the sadness for her people.”

  “We’re using the lake?” Dirk asked as he walked to the window. The daylight was already growing, and it was calm and sunny.

  “The Zalt always leave an access point to each world they assault. It gives them the ability to visit if necessary. Clean up loose ends.” Opor left the room, and he trailed after her while pulling his shirt on.

  “Like at the Rodax Threshold?” he asked.

  “I suppose. I haven’t had the chance to see a Threshold.”

  “You were Hunter. You hired me all those years before. Why did you want to find the Rodax so badly?” Dirk asked.

  “Let’s save that for another day,” Opor said.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing too hard. He saw her wince, and eased up. “I want to hear it now.”

  They walked to the next building over, and Opor had two packs filled with water, food, and an assortment of other supplies. “I’m afraid I do not wish to discuss it yet.”

  Dirk could see she wasn’t going to be forthcoming on the subject. “We can get to Earth through this access point?”

  Opor grinned, her teeth bared. “No. Not Earth.”

  Goosebumps rose on his arms. “If not Earth, then where?”

  “You know them as the Objects.”

  ____________

  We flew across the ocean for what seemed like days. The water was settled here, and it was peaceful during our flight from the mainland toward the distant island. We passed various chunks of land piercing the ocean’s surface, but continued on over the islands.

  “We might have a problem,” Veronica said. No one had spoken in a while, and her voice was strained.

  “What is it?” I looked at her, and she indicated the fuel gauge.

  “Almost out. The headwinds have caused us some grief.”

  “How much farther?” I asked.

  “To Ball’s Pyramid? Ten minutes,” she replied.

  “Are we going to make it?”

  “It’ll be close.”

  “What’s that?” Baska startled me, and he was pointing to the water a short distance away.

  “That’s a lifeboat!” Veronica shouted over the noise. The passengers were waving in our direction. “We can’t help them.”

  It wasn’t easy to abandon them, but we didn’t have much of a choice. Fuel was running low, and our destination was nearly in sight.

  “If there’s a lifeboat, doesn’t that mean there’s a barge or cruise ship out here?” I asked, scouring the horizon for signs of a vessel.

  I saw Ball’s Pyramid, and a floating object a mile away. The cruise ship was sinking, the tail end dipping below the water.

  “What could have done that?” I asked. The answer came a second later. A bullet clunked into the helicopter, tearing through the door and striking the inner cabin. Another shattered the window.

  “Duck!” Veronica dropped the helicopter, dipping closer to the water. A couple more shots hit, and Baska opened the door, using his snub-nosed gun to search for our attacker.

  “It’s on the boat!” Baska let a few rounds fly, and I unstrapped myself, seeking to secure a better view. We were ten meters from the ocean, and Veronica steered the copter to the side, avoiding another flurry of shots. I attempted to clutch the seat in front of me but fell through the open door, plummeting to the water.

  My breath rushed from my lungs as I dove into the cold ocean. I swam up and poked my head from the water, spitting down my chin. The helicopter was lingering, and another bullet struck it. Baska locked gazes with me before looking away and firing toward the cruise ship. The helicopter went on, moving for Ball’s Pyramid.

  Veronica wouldn’t want to leave me behind, but she was doing what was necessary. We had to secure their weapons and ships to have any chance against the Zalt, and recovering me could cost us Earth.

  That did little to ease my mind as I floated aimlessly.

  The cruise liner wasn’t one of the behemoths. It probably had twenty or thirty cabins; I doubted one of the huge companies would come to this remote region. It was a couple hundred meters ahead, and I spied an object beside it, drifting in the waves.

  It was a boat. A rescue model: red exterior with a central steering column. From this angle, I couldn’t see anyone inside it. My arms were already tired, but I swam with all my strength, cutting through the water slower than I would have liked.

  The helicopter continued on, flying higher toward Ball’s Pyramid. It jutted from the water, reminding me of a stegosaurus. With what power I had remaining, I grabbed hold of a handle on the edge of the boat and hauled myself into it. I lay there, unmoving, while my chest heaved for a minute.

  “Come on, Rex.” I urged myself on
, and started the engines. Luckily, the keys were there. I wondered why they’d abandoned the craft, but the answer came as soon as I commenced forward. The boat was tied to the cruiser. I searched for the connection and found it off the starboard quarter. The rope was thick, and I tried to detach the clasp, but it was seized.

  I took my gun out, ensuring the safety was on, and bashed at the clasp with the butt end. It didn’t budge.

  The cruise ship was sinking. I heard a gush of air as the cabin started to descend into the ocean. A spark caught my eye, and I spotted the Umir on the nose of the boat, staring at the helicopter. Its head rotated in a three-sixty, and I sank to the bottom of the lifeboat. A few stressful breaths later, I peered up, and it was gone.

  My boat pulled backwards. The rope was connected to the cruise ship, and it was capsizing. If I didn’t detach this, I would drown.

  The ship was thirty meters away. I could do this. The helicopter was dropping near the island, so I had to hurry if I wanted to hitch a ride back to the Australian coast. I thought of all the people that were counting on me. Bev, Carson, and Edith. Marcus. Evan Young. Tripp Davis, and even Veronica Jones.

  I dove into the water and used the rope to pull myself at the sinking vessel. I devoured the length, swimming and pulling like my life depended on it. Because it did.

  The end of the rope did attach to the cruise ship, but that part was underwater. I didn’t mind swimming in the ocean but usually resigned myself to doing it along the beach, snorkeling and looking for colorful fish.

  I swallowed a lungful of air and lowered into the water, using the rope to go deeper. I found the edge of the ship and blinked my eyes open in the dark salty water. I felt along the hull, and there it was. The eye ring was thicker than my thumb, and the rescue boat’s rope linked onto it with the same clasp I’d had trouble with on the other end. I pressed the release, and relief flooded me as it unlatched. The rope bobbed up, dragging away as the lifeboat drifted farther now that it was free.

  I held on and swam up, finding I was deeper than I’d thought. The cruise ship was half sunken.

  With everything I had, I kicked and paddled, finally returning to the rescue boat an exhausted and shivering mess. When I managed to climb on board, I urged the boat in the direction of Ball’s Pyramid. I smiled when I saw Veronica’s helicopter landing on a flat location near the lower spine of the rocky island.