Jessica’s eyes were still the same color. “What is your name?” she asked Marcus.
“I’m…” He observed the soldiers. They were different. Glen’s eyes were such a pale green, they were almost white. The Unknowns surrounded him. “I’m Rewa.” It was the only Unknown name he knew, stolen from the device they’d found in Hunter’s basement.
“Get in, Rewa,” she said. Marcus was grateful she spoke English.
“Are we all here?” he asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Most of our people are still above. Exodus has not been completed. The hub has linked to these twenty Umir, so they must spread out, connecting to the other Umir around the world. Their distance is limited,” Jessica said. Gone was the fear, the nervous wreck of a woman. “Tomorrow. We will be prepared for arrival tomorrow.”
Marcus thought he understood. This hub allowed a portion of the Unknowns to drop from orbit. He was sure their Objects were now at Earth. Once the Umir reached their destinations, the network would be complete, allowing the rest of the aliens to take control of the population.
That meant there was still a shred of hope. “Where do we go now?” he asked, keeping his voice airy.
The large helicopter rose into the red sky. “Back to the coast.”
Marcus swallowed hard and strapped in. He was surrounded by soldiers occupied by aliens, and a madwoman. His gun jabbed into his side, and he left it there, not wanting to draw attention to it. One way or another, this entire fiasco would end tomorrow.
He didn’t think there was much of a chance to win this war, but as the old poker saying went, all you need is a chip and a chair.
6
Roger sped like a demon up the 95. Bill had ridden in some fast cars over his life. He’d once sat in a NASCAR, modified with a passenger seat, while the champ took him for a terrifying five laps. This was even scarier.
Their fleet had spread out, not wanting to draw too much attention. Some took the side roads, but Roger and his most trusted bunch stuck to the fastest path.
The worst part wasn’t the death-defying speeds as the Jeep rumbled along the interstate. It was the way the sky beckoned them forward. It was obvious they were heading into danger. If this was a movie, the music would have started out slow and ominous, and by now, the tempo would be quick, the violins scratching frantically.
“Half hour and we’re there.” Roger hadn’t spoken for twenty minutes.
“What’s that?” Bill asked, but it quickly became clear. A roadblock.
Roger grabbed the radio while slowing. “Freedom Earthers, we are five miles out of Ridgeland. The cult is trying to prevent our arrival. I am not requesting backup; I am demanding it.”
Bill found his pack of smokes and retrieved one with a shaky hand. He lit it and rolled the window down. “Might be my last.”
Roger glanced at him and shook his head. “Hell. Give me one of those.” Bill did, and lit the thing for the big man. He looked like a veteran as he inhaled smoothly.
“We are not going to die,” Roger said.
Bill saw twenty cars blocking their path. He grabbed a set of binoculars from the console and watched the cultists. They were at a stand off, with the Believers staying put. Bill imagined they were more than confident in the outcome.
By the time they finished their cigarettes, three Jeeps had arrived. One pulled up beside their vehicle, and Roger dropped his window. “Jerry. Do it.”
The Jeep’s roof was down, and a man rose in the passenger seat. He held an RPG. Bill almost crapped himself. “What the…”
“Relax, Billy. This is where our jobs get fun.” Roger’s eyes were wild, and Bill almost reached for the door handle.
“I thought we were going in for the second wave,” Bill reminded him.
“Plans change, my friend.”
Bill watched the Believers at the blockade and saw their moods shift. They must have seen the RPG aimed in their direction. Some started to run, but their vehicles remained in a straight row. It was two deep, making it more difficult to maneuver, but Roger just slammed his big foot on the gas and screeched forward.
“What are you doing?” Bill clutched the handhold and craned his neck to see Jerry pull the trigger.
The explosion was immense. The biggest vehicle was an old school bus, and it overturned, spinning on its side. Several cars spun across the roadblock, offering them a path.
Bullets thumped into the Jeep, and Bill ducked. Thwack. Thwack.
They drove across a bump, and Bill gained air before slamming back into the seat. The glass of their windshield shattered, and another explosion blasted from behind them.
“Nice work, team. Stay close. Make sure none of them survive.” Roger let go of the radio, and Bill finally had the courage to peek his head up.
“You’re a lunatic!” Bill shouted, but he couldn’t help but laugh. Adrenaline coursed through him, and his heart raced like a stallion.
“Tell me you didn’t love every second of that,” Roger dared him.
Bill looked back, seeing more explosions. The sound of gunfire penetrated the air. “I wouldn’t say every second…”
“We have company,” Roger casually said, and Bill spied the truck chasing after their Jeep. “Bill, you’re going to have to take care of them.”
“Take care?” Bill wasn’t sure he could.
“Shoot them. Or at least their tires.” Roger didn’t slow. “We’re ten minutes out. The others will be arriving from the north, so we should connect with them. Storm the blasted cult’s nest once and for all. But you”—Roger glanced over with a twinkle in his eyes—“have to shoot.”
Bill held his gun and noticed the truck was attempting to catch them. Black exhaust swelled from the gigantic pipes as the diesel vehicle sped down the road. It would be there soon.
He wasn’t a religious man, but he made the sign of the cross and climbed over the console, into the back seat. Roger unclasped the roof on his side, and Bill did the same.
“Release the rear one!” Roger shouted. Gunshots rang out from the truck, and Bill saw the man half sitting in the passenger window. Bill did as he was ordered and dropped as the wind caught the plastic top. It hovered in slow motion before plunging to the ground. The truck swerved out of the way, but it still clipped their enemy’s windshield. The man trying to shoot him ducked inside.
Bill rose, holding the Sig Sauer in two hands. He braced himself, doing his best to stay upright in the moving vehicle. He inhaled and closed an eye, taking aim.
Bill fired three times. The first two went wide, but the third struck glass, the area in front of the driver spidering out. He shot again. Missed. The Jeep lurched as they rounded a bend, and for a second, all Bill saw were the drooping tree branches along the edge of the road. He regained his footing, and leapt to safety as the man returned fire.
When he could only hear Roger’s heavy breathing and the screaming engines, he poked his head up. “Slow down. Get near them. I’ll take out the tire.”
“Good plan. I should have brought a backup bazooka.” Roger slammed the brakes on, startling Bill. He braced himself and stuck the gun out the side window’s opening. A tire came into view. The truck tried to stop as well, the brake pads sticking as it lurched, but they were going too fast. Bill shot the tire and finally hit it. The truck was already skidding into the ditch, and it flipped over three times.
Roger stopped the Jeep and quickly exited, rushing for the truck. Bill followed, his hands and entire body shaking.
One of the men had been thrown from the vehicle, and he lay there, his neck bent unnaturally. The other guy, a middle-aged man in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, crawled from the truck. He turned and raised his hands defensively. “Don’t shoot,” he whispered through bloody lips.
Roger pulled the trigger. The recoil from his giant revolver barely moved the huge man.
Bill looked at his own gun in disgust. There was going to be a lot more of this before the day was ended.
“Reload.
We’re going in.” Roger was in the Jeep a second later, and Bill followed him.
They were almost at their destination. Two of the Freedom Earther Jeeps arrived and honked as Roger took off, leading them to the Believers.
Bill glanced at the red sky and said a silent prayer.
____________
“Saul, we are happy to have you,” Alan Black told him. They’d met in the aftermath of their first attuning attempt, and Saul had used every ounce of his restraint not to throttle the bastard.
“Where else would I be?” he asked, even managing a smile. “Is the big lady present?”
Black’s lip twitched at the mention of Jessica. That was interesting. “She’s ensuring the network is operational.”
Saul thought he saw something cross the Vice’s face, but they moved on. Saul hated that he’d been wrong about the location. Of course it would be this house on the coast, not Black’s mansion near Atlanta. He blamed himself for being distracted by everything. There were so many moving pieces now, with the Freedom Earthers. He almost regretted telling them where to go, but in the end, he wanted the Believers dead.
They toured the grounds as the evening started to take hold. It was already chillier, and the dark red clouds weren’t helping. Saul wore the uniform of their elite soldiers, and a few of the cultists nodded to him in deference. Their soldiers were respected. They protected these rich and high-ranking members. But not today. Saul was turning his back on them and everything they stood for.
It was almost laughable. The men were in suits, fancy ten-thousand-dollar outfits, their shoes so shiny you could see your reflection in them. The women were in designer dresses, with bright scarves and red-soled pumps. It was ridiculous. They were letting aliens invade their minds. Did they not realize how senseless this was?
At the far end of the property, twenty feet from the thrashing ocean, were the seats and the stage. Saul thought it looked more like a pompous wedding ceremony than a landing ground for the Unknowns. The setting was complete with a string quartet.
Saul stopped at a table of refreshments and picked up a cracker, spreading a thick layer of black caviar on it. When in Rome...
“Saul, I’ve heard good things about you. I’d like you at my side when it happens.” Black squared off and faced him. Saul was a couple of inches taller and far stronger, but the man held an essence of power Saul could never duplicate.
“And when exactly is that?” Saul asked.
“In a few hours.” Black pointed at the clouds. “I’ve been in touch, and they’re ready.”
This surprised Saul, but he kept his expression blank. “I’m ready as well.”
“That’s great.” Black looked past him and waved at someone. Saul recognized her as a famous Australian movie star. “Please, try to relax a bit and enjoy the day. We’ll be part of something momentous in a few hours.”
Black left Saul alone, and he tossed the remaining food on the grass. He had work to do. He’d already wasted a half hour since arriving, and doubted there was much time to spare. Saul kept expecting gunshots in the distance, but so far, it was quiet on that front.
He peered toward the mansion. It was an impressive structure, the perfect blending of brickwork and wood accents. Saul guessed this place would stand another few hundred years if given the chance. His gaze ran along the lower section and settled on a top-floor window. It was small, but he swore there was a figure inside, looking out. Saul’s eyesight was good. It was one of the only things yet to crap out on his aging body.
He began strolling to the house and gave a few fake smiles to the other guests. He was packing enough heat to cause a scene, but these people barely noticed him. This was what they’d waited for since joining the Believers. They were doing something beyond themselves and the planet. It was celestial.
Saul almost choked on the thought. He hoped they all died before the aliens arrived.
Not a soul stopped him as he walked past the garden, with early-season flowers in pots running on either side of the stone patio. He continued through the white glass double doors and into the house before reaching for his radio. “Checking the interior now. On Black’s orders, yes. Why else would I be in here?” he asked no one.
A woman in a cleaner’s uniform ignored him as she tidied the space. He needed to hurry. Where was the Book?
“Where’s the Vice President’s quarters?” Saul asked the woman in the living room.
She was scared. Probably hired help, not sure what was happening. She said something in Spanish.
“Vice President’s sala?” He pointed to the stairs. He had no clue if he was saying it properly, but it seemed to do the trick.
She nodded, striding in front of him. Saul took the stairs, feeling every damned year of his life with each step. His knees protested, his back ached, and his hands were gnarled and tender. As long as he did his job, he could relax afterwards. Or when he was dead. Whichever came first.
She pointed to the end of the hallway. The house was quiet, despite all the guests around. Saul assumed being inside was prohibited. He told her to go downstairs, and she must have understood. A second later, he was alone on the upper floor.
The floorboards creaked as he went, and the end door was locked. Saul made quick work of the simple mechanism and entered, turning the crystal handle left. A suit lay on the bed, with three ties tossed over it. Saul almost grinned, picturing the Vice President worrying about his image on the day he was inviting an alien inside of him. The room was decorated with an antique taste, and Saul began rifling through his things. The drawers were mostly empty. He checked the wardrobe and couldn’t open it. Saul crouched, seeing the latch between the lacquered wooden doors. He used a thin tool, lifting the metal arm, and tugged on the pull.
A silk bag lay front and center. Saul peered at the exit and loosened the ties. He slid out the contents, and sighed heavily as the Book emerged. He’d done it.
Floorboards squeaked from down the hall, and Saul froze in place, listening. They were moving closer.
He shoved the Book into his jacket and closed the wardrobe. His hand settled on the crystal handle. A knock carried from the middle of the corridor. “It’s time,” a woman’s voice said.
Saul risked a glance and saw a woman at one of the bedrooms. He wondered who was inside.
____________
The lady was back. “It’s time.”
Bev shooed her children behind her and stood there, fists clenched.
The door opened, and the woman stepped in, smiling widely. “I think you’re going to enjoy this, Beverly. The Vice President will see you.”
“Why are we here?” Carson asked timidly.
She came closer, and Bev urged the kids farther away from her. “Because your mommy was supposed to be bait for her brother. The Sovereign wanted the Bridge, but I’m not sold that we need it any longer. Besides, your mommy is more important than that. She will house someone prominent.”
“What are you talking about?” Bev found her voice and was embarrassed by how weak it sounded.
“Have you been dreaming?” the woman asked. “I can tell that you have. I am… one of them. It’s quite clear , Beverly. You will be the perfect vessel.”
“Vessel?” It was hardly a whisper.
“That’s correct. The Zal… Unknowns have a hierarchy. There are certain minds that are easier to access, and they provide a better connection. The body will last longer.” She waved them to follow. “Come. They won’t delay forever.”
Bev saw a shadow in the hall, and it froze. Her heart raced. Was there someone waiting to hurt them, or were they there to help? “I won’t go.” She said this to distract the woman, and to let the stranger know it was her. “My kids aren’t going anywhere either.”
The moment the woman turned back, the man emerged, holding a gun and a pillow. Bev couldn’t believe it. Saul was there! Tears spilled from her eyes, and it made the woman cringe. “Humans are so dramatic.”
Bev knew her kids had seen Saul
too, and they started crying. She held their hands, squeezing tight. The Believer tilted her head, as if analyzing them. “What is it? Why the shift of moods?”
Saul lunged in, shutting the door behind him. The woman was fast, her movements a blur. She knocked Saul’s gun aside, and he swung with the pillow, striking her in the face. She laughed, and with inhuman strength, lifted Saul by his neck. He was bashed against the wall, crumbling the plaster. Pieces of it rained to the floor as his feet kicked out. He was turning blue.
“Stop it!” Bev shouted, and noticed the gun. The kids were already in the far corner of the room, cowering like she’d trained them to if a situation arose.
She ran for it, but the woman was quicker. Saul crumpled to the ground, and the alien-infused enemy picked up the gun a split second before Bev. Momentum carried her forward, and she tripped on Saul.
He started to move, his eyes unfocused. He saw Bev and gave her the smallest smile. The Believer aimed the gun at Bev, then before firing, shifted her target to Saul. She pulled the trigger twice, hitting the man square in the chest.
“No!” Bev shouted, not caring who heard her. Saul’s eyes closed, and the woman grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet.
“Seems like you have friends. You’re coming with me. Clean yourself up. The Vice doesn’t want to alarm our guests.”
Bev was dragged toward the door with strong hands, and she watched her children. They bawled, clutching one another across the room. “My kids…”
“You won’t care about that soon enough.”
The door closed and Bev stood in the hallway, the gun aimed at her head while the cultist turned the key.
7
“Were those gunshots?” Tripp asked. He paced near the rocks we hid behind. We could see the procession starting, and my gaze drifted to the looming estate house in the distance.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I admitted.
Lost Hope (The Bridge Sequence Book Three) Page 18