by Sean Platt
“I mean it,” Luca said, staring Desmond down. Though his body was frail and he hardly had the energy to speak, much less intimidate, he did his best to sell his sincerity. “I don’t know what you want, but if you kill them, you won’t get it.”
Desmond looked at Paul.
Paul nodded.
Moments later, the swooshing stopped, likely controlled by Desmond’s mind.
The machine was off, but everyone other than Boricio was still unconscious. Which was probably a good thing for their sakes. He hated that the others, particularly the kids, were here, being used as leverage for whatever plot The Darkness had.
The door opened, and a dead girl entered.
Luca stared at Paola, unable to believe his eyes.
She and her mother were marched in at gunpoint, both of their hands cuffed behind them, a Guardsman standing with a mean-looking rifle.
Boricio gasped. “What the fuck?”
Desmond turned, “Yes, when you all left poor Paola for dead, we saved her. Yes, that’s right, we saved her, the big bad Darkness, when your precious Light failed you. She’s been living with us, happily I might add, ever since.”
Boricio said, “What kinda beer-battered bullshit are you trying to pull?”
“Go ahead,” Desmond said, “tell him.”
“It’s true,” she said, nervously.
“It is.” Mary looked at Luca then Boricio. “It’s really her. She’s back.”
Luca tried connecting with Paola, the girl who had momentarily served as a vessel for The Light. The girl who had been the first life he’d ever saved. They had an unbreakable bond, yet he had failed to sense her. He’d assumed she was dead, and yet here she was.
But when he couldn’t connect, Luca wondered if maybe this was some sort of trickery — or beer-battered bullshit — as Boricio said.
Maybe he couldn’t connect for the same reason he couldn’t sense The Light inside him. Something about this room was dampening his abilities. Or … The Light was gone.
Please, answer me, he called out to anyone who might hear him — The Light, Boricio, Paola, someone to let him know that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.
“Now,” Desmond said, “this is what’s going to happen. I want you to connect with the Ferals and send them to the church you were all using as a sanctuary. You know the location, correct?”
Luca nodded.
“Good. You do that, and I will allow all to live. If you refuse, I will kill everyone you are trying so hard to protect, children first.”
Luca’s heart raced. Panic bloomed inside him. He couldn’t even connect with The Light; how on earth was he supposed to connect with the things he’d spread The Light into? He couldn’t even feel them.
“I can’t call them.”
“Please, Luca, don’t lie. I really don’t want to make you watch Paola die again. They say the third time’s a charm, right? Afraid it won’t be for her.”
“I’m not lying. I can’t feel The Light.”
“Guard,” Desmond said.
The Guardsman aimed his rifle at Paola.
“No!” Mary yelled, throwing herself between them.
Desmond reached out, grabbed Mary by the shoulders, spun her around, then threw her against the wall, hard.
Mary was down, faced away from Luca, blood pooling from under her long hair.
“Mom!” Paola screamed.
She tried running to her mom, but Desmond grabbed her by the hair, holding her in place as the Guardsman aimed his rifle at her head until she stopped trying to move.
“You fuck!” Boricio screamed, face boiling red, spittle flying from his mouth.
Desmond laughed. “Ah, not so big and scary now, are you? Just another insect with little brainpower and impotent rage.”
Desmond turned back to Luca.
“So, Luca, would you prefer to keep lying, or are you willing to do what I requested?”
Please, Luca cried out again, answer me.
And then he heard Emily.
Sixty-Nine
Will Bishop
When Will returned to the cabin, Charlie and Callie were sitting on the porch swing, arm in arm, deep in conversation, as happy as two lovers could be.
He hated what he had to do next, particularly when these people — Charlie and Callie; and Ed and his daughter, Jade — had barely reunited.
He passed Charlie and Callie, went inside and found Ed sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with Jade.
“Hey, guys,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Ed looked up, a wary look in his eyes that seemed to know that this thing — whatever they thought it might be — was about to end.
“What is it?” Jade asked.
“I’ll tell you all at once.”
Will didn’t wait for anyone to stand. He turned and headed out the front door, down the steps, so he was facing the home’s front when Ed and Jade emerged.
Charlie and Callie sat up straighter, sensing that their attention was needed.
“Guys,” he began, “I’m not sure how to say this, but we have to leave.”
“Leave?” Charlie said, “I just got here.”
“Me, too.” Ed hugged his daughter.
Jade, purple hair hanging over one eye, asked, “Go where, Will? I thought we were in Heaven, Purgatory, or something.”
“It’s not what you think it is. And we can’t stay any longer.”
Charlie stood up, “If it’s not Heaven or Purgatory, what is it?”
“It’ll be easier to show you,” Will said.
He retraced his steps to the tree, knowing the others would follow.
This was the first time Will had ever been conscious when he walked to the Black Tree, and was surprised how close it was to their cabin, even though he’d never seen it in any of his walks around the woods. Not that reality held any sway in this place.
He arrived at the tree to find the half-there, half-not girl with curly brown hair and big green eyes.
He knew her name even though he didn’t know her. He’d seen her in the vision.
“Emily?” he said.
She looked up, surprised to see him.
Will could hear the others, who had been slow to follow, finally arriving. He didn’t bother to turn. He knew that they were seeing what he was — this girl in front of the massive black tree.
The tree had no leaves, just thousands of blood-red roses.
“Are you Will?” She looked at the others. “Charlie, Callie, Ed, and Jade. I saw you all … in Luca’s memories.”
She looked around, saw the tree. “Why am I here? Am I dead?”
“Not quite,” Will said, knowing she was close but not quite there. He saw in the vision what had happened to her body. He also saw the room where Luca and the others were being held with the abomination.
Will swallowed. “You’re here to send a message to the others.”
Seventy
Luca Harding
As Emily’s voice spoke in his head, Luca noticed that Paul and Boricio were staring into space, eyes wide, as if they were receiving her words too.
Daddy, I’m dying. But whatever you do, don’t let Desmond know.
Desmond looked at Luca. “So, are you ready to do what I want, or are you going to watch these people die?”
He aimed the rifle at Paola’s head.
Mary begged him not to hurt her daughter. “Please, kill me. Not her.”
Emily’s voice told them each what they had to do.
Luca’s job was the hardest and easiest of all.
He only had to die.
Seventy-One
Paul Roberts
At first, Paul thought it was some sort of trick, but when Emily flashed a vision of herself lying on the elevator floor, bleeding out, it was too real to dismiss.
He thought back: What happened?
It doesn’t matter. All that matters now is that you do exactly what I tell you to do. And you can’t question it. The man said if you do this,
I’ll live. But if you don’t, we’ll all die.
Desmond was asking Luca if he was ready to do what was required. Paul was only peripherally aware, attempting to focus on Emily’s words over the sudden fear overwhelming his system.
Telepathic connections were difficult to maintain in even the calmest conditions. Having his daughter dying on the ship, telling him that he had to do exactly as instructed, only added to the choppy waters.
When Boricio distracts Desmond, you must kill Luca.
Kill Luca?
You have to. It’s the only way. Please, Daddy, tell me you’ll do it.
Paul stared at the old frail body. He had no qualms killing to save his daughter, particularly an enemy. But a small part of him was afraid that this was a trap — that Luca was somehow getting in his head, posing as his daughter. He could be walking right into a ploy that would get him and Emily both killed.
Boricio screamed, “Don’t do it, Luca! Don’t give this alien fuck what he wants. He’s just gonna kill us all anyway!”
Desmond turned, glaring at Boricio. “Shut up.”
“Or what?” Boricio said, “You gonna kill me? You can’t fucking kill me, and you know it. If you coulda, you woulda. But your bosses won’t let you, will they? Might wanna pull up your panties, Dez, your little pink pussy is showing.”
Desmond pulled back the gun, swung, hit Mary in the head, and sent her to the ground.
“You want to see what I can do?”
Boricio screamed, “Big fucking man, attacking a woman and her child! Why don’t you fucking come at me? I’ll kick your ass even with my body in this pod!”
Emily’s voice screamed in his head.
Now, Daddy!
Paul watched as Desmond and the Guardsman both went toward Boricio. It was time.
He slipped the blade from his belt and walked toward Luca slowly, uncertainty racing through him.
It’s a trap. Don’t do it!
They’re going to kill you both!
Paul crept closer.
He heard Desmond punch Boricio in the face.
Boricio laughed.
“Is that all you got? My grandmother hits harder than that, Twinkie, and that ole bitch is dead. Come on, give it all you got, Desmond Do Right!”
Paul looked up at Luca’s eyes.
They were soft and kind, a serenity in them that Paul had only seen in his wife’s.
Luca nodded.
Paul brought the knife up to Luca’s throat, sliding it under the mask designed to keep his soul inside him.
As the blade found Luca’s throat, Paul struggled to find the will to plunge it into the old man’s neck.
It was one thing to silence a threat. This was a helpless old man.
Or someone laying a trap.
Doubts screamed in his head.
Don’t do it!
Don’t do it!
Suddenly, behind him, he heard Desmond shout, “Paul!”
He turned to see the Guardsman aiming the rifle at him.
Paul froze, paralyzed by fear.
“Step away from him, Paul, or he will shoot you.”
Do it! Emily’s voice screamed inside his mind.
He saw a flash of his little girl on the elevator floor. Then another flash of Emily under the canopy a large black tree with bright-red roses rather than leaves. There were others there. None of it made sense.
“Drop the knife!”
Please, Daddy. I’m dying.
Paul swallowed, staring at the rifle aimed right at him, waiting to rip him to shreds.
He had to follow his instincts.
Had to follow his heart.
Paul plunged the knife into Luca’s throat.
Gunfire tore into his body a half second later.
Seventy-Two
Will Bishop
Lightning pierced the clear blue sky, striking the black tree in a cataclysmic clash, blinding them with brightness and deafening them all with its roar.
When Will’s vision finally returned, he saw light pouring through cracks in the tree, spreading fissures that seemed to be unknitting the branches before them.
Though his ears were ringing with a high-pitched whine, he turned and yelled, “This is it, folks! Time to go!”
Charlie shouted a muffled and barely audible, “I don’t want to! I want to stay here!”
“Here isn’t a place,” Will said. “We are inside Luca. And now he’s dying. It’s time to go.”
“Go where?” Ed shouted.
“Into the light!” Will pointed at the growing fissure in the tree’s center, where Emily had vanished.
Will marched forward, hoping they’d follow.
Seventy-Three
Boricio Wolfe
The Guardsman opened fire, riddling Paul’s body with bullets until it had an English muffin’s nooks and crannies, buttered in his blood.
A bright flash of light came from beneath the surface of the jelly of Luca’s pod. It looked as if the old man’s chest was ripping open and something bright was pushing its way out, growing larger as it came.
They all stared as the first light made its way through — in the shape of a man. Though the man was all light, Boricio thought he could sense features within it.
Ed Keenan?
Another light stepped through, until five human-sized and shaped lights shone from Luca, standing in front of Desmond, fists tight at their sides.
Desmond screamed, grabbed the rifle from the Guardsman, and fired wildly at the shapes.
The Light immediately shattered into a thousand brilliant beads, scattering in every direction, spinning and spreading in arcs like an electric spiderweb, countless streams blinking on and off, strobing: light, dark, light, dark.
Desmond, without a solid target, turned his rage on Mary and Paola, both lying facedown, hands still cuffed behind their backs.
He aimed at Paola’s back and fired.
Her body bounced in the hail fire of bullets.
Mary and Boricio both screamed, neither able to do anything.
Desmond turned to Mary and fired, shooting her in the back and head.
Every ounce of despair and anger coursed through Boricio, leaving his body in an unholy wail.
Desmond turned to fire at him.
Seventy-Four
Emily Roberts
Emily had never felt so alive.
The Light coursed through her, knitting and healing her flesh.
But as she stood, Emily also felt death. Not hers, but her father’s. She could feel his pain as the bullets tore through him. Could hear him cry out, I love you.
Emily had to save him. If The Light could bring her back, then maybe it could bring him back, too.
She was about to order the elevator to her father’s level, but a voice corrected her.
The old man, Will.
She couldn’t see him but could hear him as if he were right beside her.
Emily, your job isn’t done. You have one more thing to do.
She stood in the closed elevator and looked at the black metal walls. An image flashed in her mind of something behind the walls. The ship’s black flesh.
Get to it.
She clawed at a seam in the wall’s metal panel until her fingers found purchase.
It took every ounce of strength, but the metal loosened.
“Come on!” Emily grunted.
The wall went slack then fell to the ground with a clang. There, in the exposed space, Emily saw the elevator’s flesh.
Driven by instincts not her own, she thrust her hand into the wall. It was slippery and hot inside, as if she’d shoved her hand inside a living animal. Disgusting.
Lights under the ship’s skin burned bright red in response.
Emily closed her eyes, suddenly knowing what she was meant to do.
Seventy-Five
Boricio Wolfe
As Boricio’s rage left his body in one focused wail, Desmond opened fire on him.
Boricio felt the bullets pierce thro
ugh the jelly, straight into his flesh and internal organs with blinding pain.
This was it.
This was how he would finally die — helpless like a caged animal.
Then The Light coalesced into a mass of swirling tangled streams of blue-white lightning, hovering above Desmond’s head.
Desmond dropped the gun, staring in awe at his enemy’s form. Guardsmen ran from the room, scared shitless.
The room grew brighter. At least that’s what Boricio thought was happening, until he realized that The Light was coming straight toward him, gathering mass, sharpening itself into a point, before driving itself right into his wide-open mouth.
Boricio felt as if someone had turned his entire body into the Fourth of July. Except this wasn’t a pain so much as a jolt of energy coursing through his body.
He could feel The Light inside him. Not just The Light, but those souls collected by The Light: Luca’s, Ed’s, Jade’s, Callie’s, and even —
No, no way.
Well, fuck me with a corncob, it’s Charlie!
Boricio could feel his old friends flowing through him, becoming a part of him, making him stronger.
Turning him into a god.
He looked up at Desmond as the fucker’s gun went empty.
Boricio smiled and sent a blast of energy from his hands.
The jelly fell away from the pod, and Boricio stepped out, naked and covered in goo, but his body healing quickly.
He locked eyes with the enemy.
“You better run,” Boricio said.
Desmond turned and did exactly that.
Seventy-Six
Emily Roberts
Emily had seized the ship’s flight controls. She didn’t know how to drive a car, let alone a spacecraft, and yet was willing the craft toward the mainland.