Heart of the Storm

by Michael Buckley

  “What?”

  “When an Alpha is with child, it is a call for celebration.”

  “You know?”

  “There is a smell—”

  “You people and your noses. It’s gross.”

  “If you were to announce it to the others, the empire would rise to fight for you. Your place as the prime would go unchallenged. Fathom’s royal blood gives the child validity as a future ruler.”

  “Were we at the same meeting? Someone called me a half-breed. No one is accepting me as the prime. If you hadn’t threatened to kill that Triton girl, you’d have her running this show and I’d be cut into a million pieces. I think most of the empire would be just fine with that.”

  “You must tell them,” Arcade says.

  I wander through the tents, past the fires where the Selkies and Ceto and Nix gather. The Sirena watch me warily. When I move through the Triton, they turn their eyes to the ground. They mutter words in their own languages. I’m a failure and human filth. They don’t know that I understand every word now. Their insults scare me, not because I can’t handle some shade, but because I know these people. Insulting a prime to her face is an open challenge that in the past would have resulted in a fight to the death. The Alpha don’t respect me. I’m weak and unproven.

  A call is made for them to gather once more, and by the time I stand on the little stage, it is well past midnight. Johar has set up some lights, but they just make me feel like a target. I’m afraid that Flyer and Arcade are wrong. I’m more afraid of how the humans will take it.

  My mother and father squeeze my hands and promise me it will be all right, but my dad has one of his hands on the hilt of his pistol. Husk escorts me through the crowd.

  “I am most pleased with your announcement and quite honored that you are planning to name the child after me.”

  I laugh. “Husk, you told a joke.”

  “I have heard that humor can relieve tension and stress in humans,” he says, then steps aside. “Perhaps you could use some of it at the beginning of this address.”

  “Do you know any Alpha jokes?”

  He thinks. “There are no Alpha jokes. Mine are serious people. Perhaps you should avoid humor.”

  Johar waits for me at the stage. He looks pleased with himself.

  “White Tower just signed a fifty-billion-dollar government contract to help rebuild vital infrastructure, train police and teachers, as well as take care of trash removal. It looks like the feds might turn over the entire electrical grid, too.”

  “Congratulations. I hope we win.”

  “That would help. Oh, and I heard the good news.”

  “He’s not a business opportunity,” I say.

  He laughs uncomfortably. I think he knows I’m not joking.

  “If you, or anyone at White Tower, ever think he’s a profit opportunity, I will kill you first,” I promise.

  He hands me the microphone, and I turn to the people once more. I tell them that I have an heir growing inside me and that their empire’s future is secure. I urge them to fight for that future with everything they have.

  For a long moment, there is only silence, and then a roar of approval. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it might be the only time in the history of the world that an unwed, underage girl has ever received a standing ovation for getting pregnant from unprotected sex.

  I can’t sleep. No one can. I’m restless and listless at the same time, drowning in responsibility and lack of confidence. I can feel these monsters getting closer. I can sense their numbers. I shudder at their strength and how they callously use it. More videos spread around the camp throughout the day. The images are grotesque and blood soaked. The Tardigrade have murdered entire towns. They’ve turned rivers and streets into blood. I know that when they are done here, they will go back and kill the towns next to them, until there are no towns, no cities, no people, but they can’t resist coming here first. They seem attracted to Husk and me, pulled toward the last connections they sense on this planet. He and I are the chum that lures the shark.

  When the Rusalka attacked, I never feared for the whole world. I just fought for Coney Island. When Minerva sent the Undine and its horde of tentacled babies, I never thought it would get all the way across the country. I drew a line, and we stopped it within ten blocks of the beach. But this time I worry for people in other places, other countries. Being inside of their minds, I know what a Tardigrade is capable of doing. I can feel the determination and the strength to accomplish the bloody work. Running was never an option.

  I climb up one of the mounds, slipping on sand until I get to the top. The same soldier I watched earlier in the day is up here. He’s young, thin, serious. He’s lying on his belly with his eye glued to the scope on his rifle.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” I say. “I just wanted to get a better look.”

  He shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says. His accent is a mix of French and something else.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Baton Rouge, or at least what used to be Baton Rouge before the killing started.”

  “Were you there?”

  He shakes his head. “I was on Louisiana Border Patrol. Stupid waste of time, obviously. The fight always comes from the water.”

  “Did you lose anybody?” I hold my breath for the answer.

  “Yeah.” It’s all he’s able to say.

  “I’ve lost a few too.”

  “You sound tired,” he says.

  “Tired of fighting.”

  I train my eyes on the beach. The Triton have picked up the militiamen’s strategy and are digging ditches to line with spikes. The Nix carve spears by the dozens. Everyone is working to the endless pounding soundtrack of the Atlantic Ocean. Funny, I once thought of this place as peaceful, especially at this time of night, when I would sneak out and plant myself in the sand to calm my achy head. My mother and I sat on that stretch of beach below and meditated, and talked, and made fun of my father.

  “Good luck,” I tell the soldier, then scurry back down the mound.

  I walk through the camp toward a little tent White Tower set up for me. It’s near the Red Cross tent, which, much to my surprise, is overwhelmed with Alpha waiting for treatment. Husk approaches. He’s brought fish for someone.

  “You should be sleeping,” he says.

  “So should you.”

  “They grow closer. They will be here sooner than expected. They will be onshore before dawn.”

  “I know.”

  “I must confess something to you,” he says. “They invaded my thoughts this morning. I was swimming along the curve of the shore, looking for ways we might slow the Tardigrade when they approach. They reached out to my mind. They told me terrible things. For a brief moment, I felt sympathetic to their cause. I wanted to help them kill. It made perfect sense to me that everyone needed to die. I believe that I might jeopardize our fight tomorrow. I worry they are capable of making me turn against our army.”

  “It happened to me, too,” I confess.

  “So our link may be used against us in the fight.”

  “When you have your visions, you see your father, correct?”

  He nods.

  “Mine looks like an old friend of mine. We called him Shadow. He told me that if they can invade our minds, we can do the same. Think about the time I went into your memories. You couldn’t get rid of me for a while. Do you think we can do that to the Tardigrade? You know, mess with their heads?”

  “We will have to try,” he says.

  Chapter Seventeen

  JUST BEFORE DAWN, I HEAR THEM. THEIR PRESENCE LIGHTS A slow fuse in my thoughts that snakes around my skull, popping and crackling, until their voices explode in the center of my brain.

  “WE HAVE FOUND THE BROKEN ONES. CLEANSE THE OFFSPRING. MAKE ROOM FOR THE NEW FAMILY.”

  I try to stand, but I’m overcome with dizziness and pain, and fall back to the ground.

  “Lyric? What’s wrong?” Bex asks. She st
ayed with me last night.

  “They’re here,” I whisper.

  Bex looks out of the tent flaps, straining her eyes against the rising sun. There’s nothing out there, but she doesn’t need evidence.

  “What do we do?”

  Husk. I reach out to his thoughts.

  I know is his response. A moment later, I hear the Rusalka thrum conquer the sky of Coney Island.

  I grab Bex by the arm. “You know where to go?”

  “I do.” She reaches into her hoodie pocket and takes out a pistol.

  “Where did you get that?” I ask.

  “The Big Guy gave it to me. I was hoping for a dress,” she confesses.

  We crawl out of the tent and see that activity is already underway. Soldiers are running in every direction. Alpha are rousing one another and beating on their chests. Behind us, the human army is waking and loading guns.

  I point to the top of one of the mounds where Baton Rouge is waiting and watching. “Get up there and don’t move unless he tells you something else—​and try not to shoot yourself.”

  She takes off at a sprint.

  Maggie races to my side with the children in tow: Finn, Sienna, Brady, Renee, and Jane. My parents are right behind them. Chloe’s hand is tucked into my mother’s.

  “Are they here?” Maggie asks. “We don’t see them.”

  “They’re here. Light them up, kids.”

  They all race in single file down the beach in both directions, spreading out as far as they can, a thin line of defense, but I have more faith in them than the rest of the army combined. The children ignite their gloves and lift them toward the sky.

  Husk and the Rusalka hurry to join us. Each one holds a spear. They know what they are supposed to do. They line up next to the children and watch the water. Husk stays by my side.

  “I think I asked you to join the others,” I shout at him.

  “My place is with you,” he says. There’s no arguing with him.

  I look up and down the beach, watching tanks roll into position and soldiers charging forward with rocket launchers on their shoulders. Infantry march into position with guns in hand. And the Alpha rush forward to fill in the gaps. Fathom raises his arm, and in one fluid motion, the Triton’s blades pop from their forearms. The Nix allow their bodies to morph so their hands become long, spindly claws. The Selkies roar and dig into their positions; the Sirena stand guard, many with bats and pieces of lumber. The tiny Ceto crackle with electricity.

  Riley is suddenly to the left of me. Fathom appears on my right.

  “Look what you did, Lyric Walker,” Fathom says.

  I glance back, beyond the tanks and mounds. There are hundreds of thousands of people with makeshift weapons and firearms. Johar said we’d get two million by morning. I think he underestimated. I have never seen this many people gathered in one place in my life.

  I look over to Riley. He rolls his eyes and gives me his oh-brother expression. “Let us take the lead, all right? You need to think about the baby.”

  Something massive hurtles itself out of the water. It lands with a crash only a few yards away, spraying sand and soil in every direction. The rising sun shines on its bloated body, illuminating its deathly white skin so that it radiates in my eyes. The creature shakes itself off, turns its head back and forth, and eyes those who stand against it. It sniffs the air and stomps a foot so hard I feel the thump in my feet, then it shoots its cone of teeth in and out of its horrible mouth. It blasts a huff of air at us. It smells like death and rot.

  “YOU STAND WITH THE BROKEN ONES.”

  The voice is directed at Husk and me. It’s so horrible and loud, made up of a hundred thousand individuals, each of them is angry and offended. The noise is pounding. Husk lowers his head, clearly suffering as much as I am.

  “We do,” I answer.

  “THE OFFSPRING ARE FLAWED. THEY MUST BE ELIMINATED TO MAKE WAY FOR A MORE PERFECT FAMILY.”

  “It’s you that are flawed,” Husk argues. “The nature of your children is to be individuals, free to make their own decisions and have their own feelings. We are not broken. We have rejected your voice.”

  “TO REJECT THE VOICE IS TO BE ADRIFT IN LONELINESS.”

  It’s trying to reason with us, again. I feel it tugging at my mind and manipulating my feelings. I can see the logic in what they are saying—​connection to one another is not an ideal, it is necessary. Without it, there is only sorrow. No! I push them out of my head.

  “TO DISCONNECT IS NOT WHAT WE INTENDED.”

  “Yeah, well, kids have a way of disappointing their parents,” I shout. “Go back to your volcano. There is no reason why we have to fight.”

  “YOU HEAR THE VOICE! YOU KNOW ITS BEAUTY! MOVE ASIDE FOR YOUR CREATORS. THE BROKEN CHILDREN MUST BE ELIMINATED.”

  The words hit me harder than a punch. I almost fall, but Fathom keeps me standing.

  “What’s happening, Lyric Walker?”

  “They’re not leaving. Fight.”

  The Alpha let loose a ferocious cheer. The Rusalka’s thrum rises high into the air. The soldiers let loose bullets and rockets in a thunderstorm of artillery. The Nix leap forward like frogs and slash the beast’s flesh. The Triton join in, then the Selkies, pounding on the Tardigrade with their massive fists. I’m stunned when it falls over. I never expected it to be so easy to kill. The bullets stop, the shouting quiets, and everyone turns to me.

  “This is the terror you warned us about?” Arcade asks.

  Tardigrade leap out of the water in the hundreds. They crash around us, sometimes on top of people, crushing them dead. Bullets burn through the air. I see a rocket slam into one, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it. The first hundred are joined by a hundred more, then another hundred. With their gigantic size and numbers, the beach gets crowded very fast, and their quick, bulky bodies crash into our lines and make massive holes.

  One monster races right at us. Fathom leaps off the ground, his blades extended from his arms, and he slices its head off. The carcass collapses, sending a spray of sand and blood right at us. It doesn’t dissuade the others. Another Tardigrade charges, only to have Riley command the ocean to snatch it off the ground. He throws it so far out to sea I can’t see it anymore.

  My father rushes to join us, loading and reloading his pistol, emptying bullet after bullet into the approaching horde. He manages to blast one in the face, and the beast falls dead.

  “Where’s Mom?” I cry.

  “With Chloe,” he shouts, pointing down the beach. I can see the little girl’s creations pulverizing the beasts as they stomp out of the water. My mother uses her bare hands to knock one off its feet. All the while the Tardigrade direct their numbers, managing them with one single voice that sends them into different attacks. I shout to the soldiers, ordering them to rush different parts of the beach, then calling others back. Husk does the same to the Alpha.

  “Lyric!” Riley cries. “I can hear them too.”

  “You can?”

  I look down the beach at the kids. Maybe they can all hear them.

  “Riley, you need to tell the others to listen. The Tardigrade announce every attack. We can stop them!”

  Riley nods and takes off running down the beach.

  A Tardigrade gets too close to me, and a soldier I don’t know opens fire. His weapon jams and the creature pounces, trapping him beneath his weight. The Tardigrade’s mouth curls open, and its circular jaw shoots out like a whip. I saw this in the videos, but it’s so much worse in person. The spike stabs the soldier’s chest for a split second, then recoils. A moment later, it lumbers off the man to attack someone else. Dumbfounded, the soldier gets to his feet, seemingly unharmed, but it’s only a second before he and I know something is terribly wrong. His body swells. He screams in agony, dying long before the metamorphosis is complete. When he is nearly three times his original size, his chest splits open and a grotesque white creature, a mixture of a tadpole and a maggot, slithers out onto the sand. Before anyone ca
n attack, it hops into the air and crashes back down into the sand, burrowing with such lightning speed there’s nothing left but a hole.

  My father fires his gun into the ground. “It’s crawling around down there.”

  “Everyone, get off the sand!” I shout, but I have no idea where they would even go. There is nothing but sand. This is a beach!

  We scatter, but not before there’s an explosion of earth to my right. I watch the Tardigrade’s creation shoot out of it and swallow a Nix whole. His friends claw at the baby Tardigrade’s side. It screams and tries to burrow to safety, but the Nix are all over it, cutting it to pieces.

  “What the hell is that?” a soldier shouts.

  I think that’s our baby brother.

  Another wave of Tardigrade charges out of the water; this time a thousand take the beach. The sudden arrival of so many overwhelms our forces.

  “Push forward!” a soldier shouts, as another row of military personnel rush forward with flamethrowers strapped onto their backs. They roast whatever gets close, but it seems only to anger the monsters. They tear into the men, stomping and ripping them apart, spiking their chests and causing nightmares to come out of the bloated victims.

  We run for the mounds, scampering up the sandy sides, struggling with every step. There, the kids can fire on the creatures from safety. They target their attacks according to what they hear in their heads, but there are far too many monsters to stop them completely. They use their numbers to rush between the mounds like cattle. Baton Rouge and fifty other soldiers like him fire viciously into the mutants. Many are killed, but there are so many more. They crawl over their fallen brothers. Tanks blast them with their guns, but the Tardigrade slam into them, knocking them on their sides. They’ve broken the last line of defense. There’s nothing between them and the humans.

  Husk barks at his Rusalka, and they race after the horrible beasts as they crash into the enormous crowd of people. Guns fire in every direction. A mass of thousands scream and trample one another. People are dying everywhere I look. Soldiers are in retreat. Ceto and Selkie lie face-down in the surf. Brady falls off one of the mounds into the mass of monsters. He’s gone. We failed. We failed.