She could feel her breath coming faster, the grip of her gun feeling slick in her hands as she waited.
She was blinded by a sudden flash of light as something exploded, blasting a fist-sized hole in the roof. She fired blindly, not having the time to wait for her sight to return. She was lucky. Her blind shot tore a tiny machine to pieces, and she could smell the rancid odor of burnt plastic and metal as it fell to her feet. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fired again, hitting another as it crawled through the newly formed hole. If they got beyond the puncture and could get airborne she was dead, but as long as they were crawling she had the advantage. Six, seven, three more, they kept coming and she kept firing, faster now. The echo of her SIG in such a small space was deafening, even with the earplugs. Then, she heard it again, the scraping of metal on metal. With a blinding flash panel in front of her exploded inward, staggering her and knocking the wind from her lungs. Breathless, she blasted the little monster trying to squeeze in from the new hole—that was fifteen. Time to reload! Rowen could feel sweat beading down her forehead as the clip dropped to the floor, and she slid the new one into place with a satisfying click. She drew a sharp breath as she heard the whine of propellers coming to life. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one dive toward her head, but she was a split second faster, her shot taking the flying drone down moments before it could explode in her face. She kept firing, counting, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, last clip. Nowhere to go, but each bullet was another second of life. She started counting down her remaining bullets, seven seconds, four seconds and it would be over, no bullets, no life...she would use the last bullet on herself, it seemed pointless, but keeping her head—
Then it all stopped. The drones froze mid crawl, their bright center eyes dimming to a dull red, the tiny machines falling lifeless at her feet. Rowen was drenched in sweat, arms shaking, blinking in confusion, too afraid to let her guard down. Was this some kind of cruel trick, and they would all suddenly come back to life and scatter her brains across the side of the van?
The rear door suddenly swung open, and they were there, Gibbs and her dad, unharmed and surrounded by a swarm of docile drones. Rowen’s finger twitched for a moment as she took aim. “What the hell is going on?” she asked, confused, as they piled into the back of the van with her. “Why didn’t you signal that you were coming back? I almost shot you!”
“Sorry, Rowen, couldn’t risk it. We’re barely holding this together as it is,” said her father over his shoulder, moving past stacks of comm equipment and squeezing into the driver’s seat, bringing the slumbering van to life with a flick of the ignition.
Rowen furrowed her brow while Gibbs busied himself with his tablet, pairing it with the van’s comm equipment. She screeched in frustration. “Can one of you tell me what the hell is going on! Why aren’t those drones attacking us?”
“Sorry, I did it! I mean, not all the way, but I hacked their network,” said Gibbs, cackling with excitement as he tapped on a sliver of colored crystal tucked in behind his ear. “It turns out I couldn’t hack the tower. It was way harder than I thought it would be—the Russians are way ahead of us tech-wise—but just as things were about to get really, really bad, and I was sure we were gonna die horribly, I figured out a way we could use their own comms to make the drones think that we were friendly. Voilà, our own little drone army.”
“Hold on back there,” said her father as the van lurched backward, heading out of the alley. Rowen placed a steadying hand on Gibbs, trying not to fall while the van lurched from side to side as they tore down the street, tires squealing. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly moved her hand from his shoulder, grabbing the back of the chair instead. Looking through the holes in the roof, she could see dozens of drones in their wake, forming a perimeter around their airspace. Rowen was taken aback when Gibbs powered the monitors. As far as she could tell, with the exception of Mary Beth’s team, they had lost everyone. The cameras in the park painted a horrid picture of bodies strewn around, laying in darkened pools of clotting blood. “Did we lose everyone?” she asked Gibbs.
“No, but if I don’t get this done right now, we will. Using this comm, I can control a few of the drones,” said Gibbs, touching the crystal behind his ear, his words spilling out in a torrent. “Once I figure out how to link it to the van’s satellite system, we should be able to control enough of those things that we can use them to defend what’s left of our people.”
“People? Are we looking at the same thing? Everyone’s dead!” said Rowen, pointing at the bodies on screen and grinding her teeth in anger.
“No! Some of them are hiding. Those things—the drones. They’re pretty stupid, and easy to trick. Ariel and Augusta are still alive, but down for the count from what I can tell. We can’t just leave them there, and Mary Beth’s team is still kicking... Holy shit, everybody. Hold on, it looks like I have reached the limit of what this thing can do. We got incoming!”
Looking out the dirt-streaked windshield, Rowen could see hundreds of drones swarming toward them. In the dark, their red sensors glowed like the eyes of a mythical beast, the high-pitched screaming of their propellers roaring like a monster. She turned back to Gibbs to find him furiously tapping away on his tablet, trying to control the incoming drones. “Gibbs, stop trying to control them all,” she screamed in his ear. “Just make them attack each other, you idiot!”
“What? Oh my god, Rowen, yes I can; that’s much easier, engaging!”
With a few simple commands, the drones in their wake tore past them, intercepting the larger force. Streaks of light and fire filled the air as their drones formed a barrier and began exploding, knocking the incoming machines from the sky. “Holy crap, it worked!” said Gibbs, smiling ear to ear. Watching Gibbs, she could see the crystal behind his ear flashing in rapid succession, going from brilliant silver to green, then finally to a deep, angry red. Rowen thought it looked oddly like the tower in the park as it cycled through its palette of colors.
“Got it. Holy shit, that hurts,” said Gibbs, clutching at the crystal as he closed his eyes, wincing.
“Do you even know how that thing works?” she asked, her forehead creasing with worry. She could swear that the strange piece of glass had grown. It had stopped alternating between colors and began pulsing between shades of deep crimson to black.
“I’ve hooked into the van’s satellite. I can control them now...there are so many...the network...it’s nothing like—”
“Dad, there’s something wrong with him,” said Rowen in a panic, her friend’s bright blue eyes glazed over, and his head rolled back, his hands strangely still moving faster than she could see on the tablet in front of him.
“Whatever he’s doing, make sure he doesn’t stop. He’s the only thing keeping us alive at this point,” said her father, pointing at the thousands of little nightmare machines surrounding them. “We’re coming up on Ariel. Good god, what happened here?”
Rowen glanced outside as the van slowed to see the entire area slick with ice, the floor covered in a sea of fallen drones and headless bodies, all frozen solid. At the center of the mess lay Ariel, covered in jagged shards of ice and melting snow, painful-looking welts over his compact frame.
“Rowen, Gibbs, stay put, and keep those damn things off me,” said her father, slowly opening the van door and making his way across the ice. After a moment, he shouldered his weapon and picked up the smaller man in a fireman’s carry, hurriedly bringing him to the back of the van and none too gently throwing him on the floor. Climbing back into the rear, he pushed past everything, placing a hand on Gibbs’ shoulder.
“Gibbs...Scotty, can you hear me?” asked her father, his strong voice calm and reassuring. The blond-haired man came suddenly to life, sucking in a lungful of oxygen and shaking his head.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir, it’s weird, sort of like being in two places at once,” said Gibbs, speaking quickly, adjusting his shoulders.
“Can you maintain this? Are we safe?”
“Yes, sir, positive. I’m in their network even now, and they haven’t detected me. I’m going to order the drones to return to base. Also, sir, I can track their chatter. The confusion from the attacks has pretty much thrown them into chaos, and no one is really sure what’s going on from their end. I think we did it—mission accomplished!” he said, his excitement infectious. Despite everything that had happened, Rowen couldn’t help but smile.
Nodding, her father gave Gibbs a smile and headed back to the driver’s seat of the van. “Ok, good. Rowen, send the all clear, and tell everyone who is able to meet at the designated rendezvous point. We’ll pick up any stragglers and anyone who needs assistance along the way. It was bloody, and we lost a lot of good people tonight, but I’ll count this one as a win.”
Rowen wasn’t so sure as she counted the dead on her screen. From what she could tell, a single attack had cost them more than a third of their fighting force. They wouldn’t be able to do something like this again. The enemy would be expecting it. As they raced into the night, watching the crystal on her friend’s neck pulse in tune with the one in the park. She could only hope it had been worth it.
Chapter 23: Iron Mountain
May 2076
Gwen awoke to shuddering sobs, a cool draft on her skin sending a chill through her, raising goose bumps and hardening her nipples. Curious, she opened her eyes a sliver, finding Arthur strangely curled into a ball on the floor, his back to the door of the odd room she found herself in. “What the fuck? Arthur what are you doing over there?” she said as she came fully awake.
She could see his face flush, his ears going a deep shade of pink. “Nothing...sorry...just...sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “They just left you here, covered in grime. I...thought I could help but…you were naked, and I didn’t know what to do”
Gwen groped for the blanket, sitting up with a grunt, her limbs moving sluggishly, her head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The dimly lit room she found herself in looked like something out of a forgotten century, full of heavy, old-fashioned furnishings and gaudy draperies, once fine, now left to decay, smelling of mold and mildew.
“Where are we? What happened?” she asked, trying to piece together her addled thoughts, gripping the blanket tightly like a shield. Arthur stood, pressing his back against the door. “And why the fuck am I naked?”
“That’s how I found you, lying in a crater, covered in dust and debris,” he said, his voice a trembling whisper. “The explosion you caused destroyed everything in its path. Most of D.C. is gone...including your clothes.”
“What do you mean, it’s gone?” she said, her stomach roiling. She couldn’t give a shit about the buildings, they were just things built by men who wanted to impress other men. “What about the people?”
Arthur looked apprehensive, as though considering how much to tell her. He was always blunt; she could always count on that. “Tell me,” she said. “I don’t really need bullshit right now.”
“D.C. metro area was home to six hundred thousand people,” he began, his voice clinical, detached. “Lots of folks got out at the start of the attack, but early estimates put the death toll close to fifty thousand from the initial shockwave. But there are almost seventy-five thousand missing, from the secondary damage of homes and offices collapsing, fire and whatnot.” The more he spoke, the more sick she felt, wanting to vomit. How could this have happened? She was doing the right thing, keeping her word. She was supposed to be protecting people. “The president and most of Congress are missing and presumed dead as well, not to men—”
“Stop, just stop!” she screamed, bringing her knees up and hugging herself under the moldy blanket, taking deep, ragged breaths. “Where are we now?”
“Iron Mountain, Western Pennsylvania,” he said distantly, voice hoarse. “The most secure data center in the country. It’s doubling as a bunker for the Council of Cardinals. With the president gone and no Congress, they’re in charge of everything now.”
There was something in Arthur’s voice. He wasn’t himself. Pushing aside her pain, she studied him. She could see beads of sweat running down his temples, and his eyes were red-rimmed and raw. He no longer looked like the serious adult that he tried to be, but more a nervous child waiting for punishment. His whole demeanor felt out of place, odd, at least more odd than usual. “Arthur, did something happen? You know you can talk to me. Did you lose your virginity or something while I was asleep?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Arthur flinched like he’d been hit, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words. She had never seen him this way, insecure, fidgeting with his hands. From the night she had met him, he had always been confident. “No, never,” he said, his voice a crackling whisper in the dark. “I’ve never been with anyone except the major bishop, but now, since yesterday...some of the cardinals too.”
“What,” she said, stunned, her hands covering her mouth. “How could they?” She knew about the major bishop—it was the worst kept secret in Divinity Corps—but she couldn’t imagine Arthur being passed around by those men like some kind of party favor.
Shrugging, Arthur looked downcast, wounded in body and spirit. “They were celebrating, drinking over the victory in D.C. I wasn’t paying attention... They gave me something—”
Gwen could feel her strength returning as he spoke, her anger growing with each word. “I will fuck up every last one of them—”
“No, don’t. I’ll fix this,” he said in a whisper. “That was the last time... I swear it will be the last time.” He stood, clenching his jaw. Looking directly into her eyes, he began wiping away tears. “I know you don’t like it when I talk like this, but when it was happening, the only thing I could think of, the only thought that kept me from losing my mind, was you.”
“Me?” asked Gwen, her heart sinking. She had known from the night they met. She was afraid this would happen, given the way he looked at her, and had done everything to put him off.
“I know now...that I want to be with you, only you... I think about you all the time, and I love you more than anything,” he said quickly, his words spilling from his tongue in a torrent.
Even though she had expected it, the revelation hit like a tank shell. The darkness in the room felt heavier with his words. How could she explain what she didn’t understand herself? She never understood men. Why did it have to be this way? She just wanted things to be simple, to be friends. She had liked Arthur from the moment she met him, but she was just not that kind of person. He was cute and had beautiful eyes, but... And now she was about to lose a friend. “I’m so sorry, but...it’s hard to explain. That is something I just don’t want right now,” she said, wincing as the words escaped from her throat.
“I thought you felt something: the way you act, touching me, holding my hand,” he said with a shrug, looking away, embarrassed. Gwen could see he was hurt.
“I do care for you. You make me feel safe, comfortable. I can just be myself around you. But I don’t want to be with you in that way. I don’t want to be with anyone in that way,” she said, trying to soften the blow. What she said was true. She had sex with the major bishop, but that was the deal they made: Sex for security, money, like with every man she had been with. She didn’t feel anything. She simply played the part the major bishop wanted her to play. Gwen shook her head, not knowing what to say, burying her face in her palms. She was just being nice, being herself. How could she make him understand without hurting him?
“We could run off from this place, this life, make a new one. With enough time I’m sure you would feel what I feel” he said suddenly, rising to his feet. Arthur reached under the bed and produced a uniform similar to his own, dark serviceable cotton with a high red collar. “We could leave now. I know it sounds crazy but—”
“Arthur...please. I can’t” she said shaking her head.
He rushed to the door suddenly, not looking back. “Ok, it’s—no,” he said, hesitating, refusing to face her. “I�
��ll leave you alone. I have things I have to do, and I may not get this chance again.”
She sat alone in the musty, old room with its overpowering darkness, suddenly very cold, replaying the moment in her mind. Arthur heartbroken, all those people. Dead because of her. “Fuck...whatever,” she said to herself. Shaking off the feeling of nausea growing in her belly, she dressed quickly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to cover herself and hide from everyone and everything.
***
Iron Mountain turned out to be an antiquated presidential bunker, located deep below ground in an abandoned quarry. Its rough limestone walls were cave-like, with cool, sterile lighting that barely pushed back the darkness. Its campus was massive and heavily guarded, with soldiers posted every few feet, bristling with weapons. Gwen was worried about Arthur. He was acting strangely, and he was doing his best to avoid her. When she finally cornered him, it played out as she expected. He was angry, eyes full of hurt, and she thought he might do something bad to himself. It had happened to a girl she’d known back in Detroit. Some guys had run a train on her, and a few days later...she was gone.
From what she learned from the doctors who took care of her, she had been asleep for almost a day. When Arthur had found her, covered in ash and blood, they had assumed the worst, fearing she was at death’s door, and he had hardly left her side. It turned out she had simply pushed herself too far and passed out from a lack of oxygen. Lighting the air on fire could do that. They told her that her defense of the city had been nothing short of spectacular, and that the shockwave she had generated had destroyed most of the invading forces surrounding the capital. Unfortunately, she had leveled most of the area, the White House included. A pyrrhic victory, but it was still a victory, the first major one of the war. The Council of Cardinals was hailing her as a hero even though she considered herself a murderer. They claimed she was a young soldier doing God’s work of protecting his chosen nation. They wanted her to talk to the press, do interviews with the cardinals smiling gleefully at her side. She could tell by their demeanor, the way they spoke, they thought she was stupid, little more than gutter trash. They would use her as a tool to insure their legitimacy, only to be tossed aside once the job was done.
Ascension: Children of The Spear: Book one Page 26