Jon’s forces stayed hidden as a 'Chariot' eased into the air from the courtyard within The Order’s outpost, and soared away to the west. He could not imagine a less aerodynamic airship.
Essentially a big square, The Order's facility covered an area equal to four football fields. One large gate remained open on the north side to accommodate the influx of new recruits.
Inside that square waited two strange domes, several small buildings, and a main structure resembling a large shoebox with veins running through its green walls.
The fortress sat in the center of a massive parking lot. To the north, across from the open gate, stretched three hundred yards of dead cars and pavement followed by trees and grassland.
To the east and south lay nearly a square mile of empty blacktop so wide open that any attacking force from that direction would be dangerously exposed.
To the west, another fifty yards of parking lot then a grassy patch followed by squat, 1980’s vintage office buildings.
A sour, rotting odor emanated from the walls of The Order’s compound, cast about by blasts of a sharp, cold wind as if the facility caused a storm to brew, yet the white clouds in the afternoon sky suggested otherwise.
Three spider sentries patrolled outside the smelly walls and one inside. Nearly two dozen robbed figures roamed the grounds within the battlements; the Reverend identified them as ‘monks’, the lowliest of The Order’s ranks armed with small swords.
Behind the tree line to the north, Reverend Johnny checked his watch and announced, "The appointed hour has arrived, my friends," to Stonewall McAllister, Sanchez, and Simms.
With a helping hand from above, Johnny hauled himself on to the back of Stonewall’s horse while struggling with a heavy M240-B machine gun.
Stonewall remarked, "Your hands must be endowed with incredible strength."
"The Lord is my strength. Your hands smell like gasoline."
"Indeed."
"Let us begin this work in the name of the Father and deliver vengeance unto-"
"Tallyho!" Stonewall cut the sermon short.
The three horses galloped from cover screaming and whooping as they swerved between abandoned cars and trucks.
Sanchez and Simms fired shots from rifles in the direction of the compound. Stonewall deposited Reverend Johnny among the dead cars of the parking lot.
"But God will smash the heads of His enemies," the Reverend shouted as he rested the heavy weapon on its tripod atop the hood of a compact car. "Crushing the skulls of those who love their guilty ways!"
A heavy rat-tat-tat-tat and a rain of jingling shell casings broke the calm afternoon. Johnny took aim at a Spider Sentry near the main gate more than one-hundred yards away. His machine gun-chattering and shaking fiercely-blew apart tires, windshields, and skipped bullets across the pavement.
The Sentry counter-attacked, marching forward on its creepy legs and firing the Gatling-like gun embedded in its faceplate. Streams of hard spores aimed first at the Reverend and then at the other riders who galloped amidst the dozens of dead cars. Those projectiles struck Simms' horse, killing it and sending her tumbling to the pavement behind a burned-out mini van.
Stonewall harshly spurred his steed, tugged the reigns, and came about to her rescue. Shaken but unhurt, Simms climbed aboard his horse.
Sanchez closed on the Sentry and slapped its round head with rifle fire. Then Johnny found his mark as a bullet tore through a leg joint; the sentry wobbled in search of balance. The Reverend finished the creature off with one last burst.
"Feel my wrath, non-believer!"
A strange alarm erupted within the compound; it sounded like someone trying to speak through a mouth full of cotton balls.
As Sanchez incinerated another Spider Sentry with a firebomb, The Order’s main line of defense prepared to engage.
The domes inside the compound rose into the air…ten feet…twenty feet…forty feet…sixty feet high. They resembled building-sized mushrooms. Tendrils drooped from the undercarriage of the caps. A massive red and black eye hovered from a thick tether.
The dome-the mushroom cap above the dangling eye and the bush of tendrils-vibrated and then spun, releasing its own ordnance: a hundred flat discs-like saw blades-flew out from the monstrosity in a swarm of deadly Frisbees.
Stonewall, with Simms on his horse, ducked behind a toppled commercial delivery truck. He heard the sharp discs smack into the opposite side: thwang-thump; thwang-thump.
Sanchez galloped for the cover of an old Ford pickup with massive ‘monster truck’ tires. His horse made it. Sanchez’s body made it. His head did not.
Johnny-not in the creatures' initial target zone-ran into clear view of the two mushroom-like Guardians, some one hundred and fifty yards away inside the compound. He locked onto the solitary, massive eye of the lead monster.
"I will make my arrows drunk with blood, and my sword will devour flesh — the blood of the slaughtered and the captives, and the heads of the enemy leaders!"
He let the machinegun rip, hitting the lead Guardian: it was too big to miss. However, such relatively small projectiles did little damage.
The stems of both the Guardians coiled tight like springs compressing. Johnny dropped his heavy weapon and ran away from the compound as if the devil spit fire on his ass. Stonewall turned his horse and retreated with Simms still sharing the ride.
The first Guardian created the necessary energy and literally sprung through the air.
If it were not so huge…if it were not so hideous in appearance… then perhaps it would have looked humorous; like a person in a potato sack race leaping toward the finish.
And oh, did it leap.
The Guardian ‘jumped’ through the open gate and crashed to the ground a few yards shy of where the Reverend recently stood. Its stem, which had grown a sort of pedestal at the bottom, crushed several parked cars and sent another pin wheeling through the air. The impact caused an earthquake to ripple across the lot. Reverend Johnny stumbled and fell…
…Jon Brewer watched from a damaged office building on the western flank. He said to Shep, who stood at his side, "Can you handle that thing?"
"Practiced for half an hour this ‘morn," Shep tipped his head. "Want me to go get?"
"Haul ass."
"Seems to me there ain’t any other way to go on these babies…"
…The Revered staggered to his feet and looked up at the massive red eye as it stooped to study its victim. Tendrils reached toward the man.
Jerry Shepherd rode to the rescue on one of the mutant hovercraft bikes. Shepherd zipped in, slowed, used one free arm to hoist Reverend Johnny on board, and swooped from the Guardian's shadow.
The second Guardian leapt from the compound and landed next to the first. The impact, again, shook the earth; more cars tumbled away like kicked matchbox racers.
The eyes of the two mushroom-like monsters searched for targets. They watched as the hovercraft and horse-carrying humans-disappeared into the tree line.
The Guardians bent their "stems" again.
Something flew overhead: mortar rounds from behind the trees lobbed toward the outpost. The shells fell in front of the gate and exploded not with shrapnel but in white smoke.
The stems of the Guardians released, propelling them forward. The gigantic figures hurled through the air and somehow landed without tumbling at the north end of the parking lot.
Both domes whirled and flung deadly discs into the trees. Sliced evergreen branches fell like rain but the pine trees absorbed the volley.
Their attack frustrated, the Guardians bent their stalks again, waited for energy to build, then hurdled the tree line and landed in a field of dying grass and shrubs.
Reverend Johnny, on the far side of that field, dismounted Shep's hovercraft and steadied his stance as the ground shook. When the tremor calmed, he stared across the field directly at the two large red eyes.
He lit a torch.
A smell of gasoline permeated the field.
Johnny quoted Two Kings: "If I am a man of God, let fire come down from heaven and destroy you and your fifty men!"
He dropped the torch.
An inferno erupted, fed by fuel and dry brush.
The Guardians were nearly as flammable; their massive frames charred in chutes of fire.
– Jon Brewer and Boylen, riding hoverbikes, stopped at the wall of white smoke dropped from the mortars. The main gate waited on the other side of that smoky veil. Wind-seemingly growing in force-chipped away at the wall of white fast.
Behind them, beyond the tree line, rose two great pillars of black smoke announcing Reverend Johnny's success.
So far, so good. Trevor would be proud.
Jon pulled a radio from his belt and transmitted, "Whiskey, get up here!"
Brewer lifted the hinged seat of the hovercraft and surveyed the ping-pong sized grenades filling the storage compartment.
He asked Boylen, "You ready?"
Boylen brandished one of the plasma rifles scavenged from the platypus soldiers. "Aye."
Shepherd, also on a hoverbike, zipped to their side.
"The Rev took care of business." A gust of wind sent wisps of smoke trailing into the sky. Holes appeared in the white screen. "Reckon we’d better get moving."
The three rode through the smoke and entered the open gate, stopping inside the compound on one end of the courtyard. Robed figures-Monks-drew swords and raced to intercept. They retreated as Shep fired a burst from his assault rifle.
Across the courtyard, against the southern wall, sat the main building with a big sealed membrane: The Order’s equivalent of a door. Two spider sentries defended that door.
Jon dismounted his ride but kept a hand on the control panel.
Shep fired pot shots at scurrying monks and told Jon, "Do it fast before they realize there's only three of us!"
Brewer pushed a switch next to the handlebars of the craft and the rider-less hoverbike drove off like a cruise missile. The spider sentries opened fire but to no avail; the bike covered the distance in a flash and crashed into the door.
The platypus’ grenades exploded en masse tearing apart the spider sentries and sending chunks of the building's front flying across the compound.
The clatter of a horse-drawn wagon at speed came from behind. Whiskey-the older man originally from Stonewall's group-worked the reigns furiously. The wooden wagon bounced as much as rolled, nearly throwing Gruder and the Grenadiers who rode in the back.
Jon shared Shep's ride and followed Boylen to the blasted-open entrance, as did the wagon. As they neared, two monks-human faces overrun with green blotches-came out from within brandishing thin swords.
Boylen drove his hover bike directly into one, sending it sprawling with a body full of smashed bones. The Irishman avoided a jab by the second monk and blasted Voggoth's minion with his plasma gun.
Jon and Shep dismounted just as the wagon clattered to a stop among the ruins of the destroyed membrane. The cadre of K9s onboard leapt out, led by Tyr and Odin.
The ground shook. Jon spun around and saw another of The Order's defenses approach. This one stood ten feet tall, wore a cone-shaped shell of emerald and red, and moved on two thick gray legs. In some warped way, it resembled a walking Christmas tree, complete with a shiny gold star on top. In this case, the shiny star crackled with electricity.
Gruder-in the wagon-lit and threw a Molotov cocktail. The bottle smashed on the armor plating and spread fire giving the creature an amber glow but was otherwise ineffective.
A bolt of jagged lightning shot from the top of the cone-creature. Gruder jumped from the wagon for cover. The bolt caught him in mid-air. His body charred black instantly and broke into pieces when he hit the ground.
Boylen knelt near the front entrance and fired his plasma rifle at the beast. It responded with a bolt of lightning that slammed next to Boylen, stunning him for a moment.
Suddenly a stream of fire engulfed the cone-creature's legs. It wobbled frantically and then the shiny orb that shot lightning exploded in a fury of sparks. The cone toppled and Reverend Johnny-flamethrower in hand and Stonewall on horseback at his side-yelled, "I told you, they don't like a hot foot!"
Stonewall spurred his horse to the entrance where Jon asked, "Status?"
"Ms. Simms, Ames, and Mr. Tolbert are prepared to cover our retreat. Alas, Mr. Sanchez has fallen in battle."
"Hold here," Jon said. "We're going in."
"Like the rock of Gibraltar!" Johnny cried.
The Reverend, Stonewall, and Whiskey stood in a ring around the hole in the building.
Jon, Shep, and Boylen started in but the K9s moved quicker: Tyr, Odin, and the six other dogs poured through the gaping hole. Jon hoped their noses could overcome the horrid stink of the place and lock on to Trevor.
It felt as if they had entered a living creature, not a building. The corridors seemed more like arteries filled with humid, heavy air. A steady hum reverberated all around. Jon worried the building would gobble them up.
Light came from small orbs placed sporadically. Not bright, but enough to see.
The hall split into four directions. Monks approached from each. Bullets killed two; one ran away, the fourth fell to K9 teeth after skewering a Husky.
Tyr barked and Jon sensibly followed the dog's lead to a large spherical chamber with doors-membranes-spaced along the walls.
The Elkhound approached one, sniffed, left for another, stiffed, then scratched frantically.
"There! Boylen, punch through it!"
Plasma rifle in hand, the big Irishman took aim at the door.
"Move outta there, dog," he ordered and Tyr backed off as the blast hit. A circle of flames spread across the membrane and sliced open a small slit. "There's your hole."
"Let me give it a shot." Shepherd went to work carving with a hunting knife.
Pellets hit the wall near Jon's head.
A spider sentry approached. The drill bit on its face shot forward like a harpoon. Before it could pierce Jon's chest, a blast from Boylen's alien rifle disintegrated the round head and stole the power behind the shot.
"Ugly bastard, ain't it?"
"I'm through!" Shepherd shouted.
Before any of the people could enter, Try, Odin, and two Rottweilers bound inside the cell. Jon heard them bark and growl. The remaining Siberian Huskies stayed outside forming a loose perimeter of sorts.
"I'll hold here," Shep said as he raised an M4 and struck down a charging monk.
Jon went through the slit cut in the door and Boylen followed.
They entered a large, dome-shaped room shrouded in darkness save for a solitary light high in the ceiling. Trevor lay atop what looked like a wide, flat tree trunk made of green roots. The K9s circled him, barking angrily with their snouts aimed toward the shadows overhead.
"Boylen, cover me."
"Aye."
Jon approached Trevor, slinging his rifle and pulling out a sharp knife when he spied the ropes-or something like ropes-binding his naked friend to the surface.
Boylen warned, "Somethin' moving up there."
Trevor lay with his eyes wide open staring up. Jon could not tell if he were alive or dead until he saw the slow rise of his chest.
A brilliant flash lit the room and an explosion of heat erupted. Jon instinctively covered his head as he felt a mass fall from above. A black mass of tangled legs.
The torture-spider missed Jon by a foot as it collapsed to the floor; a big burning hole punched in its abdomen by Boylen's plasma rifle. The creature-attached to the ceiling by a pulsating thick tube-rolled and kicked, searching for balance. The Grenadiers moved in, tearing and biting with incredible ferocity.
"It almost had ya'," Boylen said. "Tried to slip down right on top of your 'ead."
He turned to Trevor again and hacked his binds. A shudder of pain echoed around the room with each cut and a sick puss oozed from the tendrils as Jon sliced them.
"Trevor? It's me, Jon. Can you hear me?"
Trevor did not move. He did not react.
Boylen helped Brewer move Trevor from the table and through the cut membrane.
"We've got what we came for," Jon said. "Let's get out of here."
Shepherd corrected, "We got one more to find."
Bangs and booms from the battle outside reached their ears. Jon felt the clock ticking.
"She put him here."
"I'm not arguing with you," Shepherd said.
Odin ran to the men and barked. Apparently, he had-yet again-found her scent.
– Nina paced under the solitary glowing orb lighting the small chamber. Her fists flexed closed and open. Her eyes darted around as if looking for something to fight.
Anger. Hatred. They burned in her but she found it difficult to remember why. Emotional energy without purpose, but the intensity of that energy took a physical toll: her muscles felt weak, her breath short, her thoughts unfocused.
She smelled something burning and spied a glowing spot on the door to her chamber. The glow turned into smoke and then a small hole formed. A knife poked through the hole and cut the membrane. A black and gray dog jumped through the opening. Jerry Shepherd and Jon Brewer followed.
Nina growled, "Get away from me. Get out of here!"
Plasma shots sounded from outside the door as Boylen fended off a threat.
"Oh, to hell with this," Jon had little patience for Nina Forest at that moment.
Nina saw a rifle butt. Then she saw stars.
– Trevor lay on a blanket underneath the cover of a white canopy, his eyes blinking occasionally but otherwise staring at nothing.
Jon Brewer stood overhead with Reverend Johnny at his side. Tyr lay at his Master's feet watching. Waiting.
"He hasn't said a damn thing since we pulled him out of there," Brewer mumbled through clenched teeth. "What the hell is wrong? You found some bruises and sores, that's it."
"I fear he endured an ordeal far greater than anything I might detect. Sometimes the greatest trauma is to the mind."
Jon turned sharp on the Reverend. "What the Hell does that mean?"
Reverend Johnny did nothing other than return Jon's stare. The latter finally bowed his head, patted the Reverend on his shoulder, and the two walked out.
Crisp twilight air greeted them outside the white canopy strung between a wagon and a barren tree. Another wagon and another canopy waited on the other side of the camp, a camp assembled on dying grass next to a parking lot and the vertical kilns of the historic Coplay Cement Company.
Jon walked at a fast clip. The Reverend tried to keep pace.
Horses stood tied to tree branches; supplies lay scattered about; Ames struggled to start a fire and Whiskey drank from a bottle of something while tending to a bloody ankle wound.
"We can only wait, Mr. Brewer. And pray."
"You pray, Rev. Pray I don't get my hands on Nina Forest. She did this."
"Ms. Forest is a victim in this plot, Jon," he grabbed Brewer's shoulder, spinning him around. "Your anger for what has been done to your friend is best directed at those responsible. Last I saw, those responsible were being consumed by the fire raging at their outpost."
Jon huffed a big, frustrated breath.
"You think they'll follow us?"
"Mr. Brewer, the blow we delivered unto their facility was mightier than we could have hoped. I believe they will abandon that outpost and start anew elsewhere."
Tolbert-the large black man who once worked as a prison guard and who had covered their retreat from The Order's compound earlier in the day-approached.
"She's not happy about being tied up, I can tell you that," he spoke to Johnny. "I'm not sure how much longer those ropes are going to hold."
"Yes, it's about time. I spotted the implant on her back. It should be easy enough to remove if the blasted girl will hold still."
Brewer's radio crackled to life. Stonewall McAllister's voice called: "I say, is there anyone about who could guide us?"
Reverend Johnny and Tolbert headed to the other tent. Brewer raised his radio and walked the opposite direction toward a main road adjacent to the parking lot.
"Hello, McAllister? This is Brewer. Where you at?"
First static and then, "We are in the parking lot of a super market. There are several pairs of hungry eyes watching from the confines within."
"Okay, yeah, look," Jon walked faster. "We're about a quarter mile-not even-northeast of you. Just follow Coplay Road and you'll see the parking lot and our camp to your right."
Brewer waited. First, he heard the clop-clop of the horses, then he saw Stonewall and Shepherd riding toward him.
"Anything?"
General Stonewall McAllister reported, "The rear guard is pleased to report nothing, Sir. Although we did see several scavenger-types heading toward The Order's facility. Still," Stonewall glanced at the fading sunlight overhead. "Sunset nears. No doubt, the nightmares will be out in full force. Perhaps we should endeavor to leave the city confines before then."
"Can't be helped. The team is exhausted. We're better off trying to defend a position here than keep moving."
"What about Nina?" Shep asked. "Did the Rev get that thing out of her yet?"
"He was just going to do that. He said it should be easy, though. Must've been some sort of sleeper implant that didn't balloon up until activated. He grabbed those enzymes he needed from the facility before we bugged out; took the shit right out of the walls."
Shep dismounted and handed the reigns to Cassy Simms who stood watch on that side of the camp. Like the others, her eyes sagged and she walked sluggishly. Pure exhaustion.
Stonewall split off to help Cassy with the horses while Jon and Shepherd approached Reverend Johnny's tent. They found Tolbert outside on his hands and needs coughing.
He struggled to tell them, "I never saw her coming."
Johnny stumbled from the tent with a hand grasping the back of his neck.
"I didn’t get it yet… ouch…blasted girl."
Jon glanced to his left and saw Nina running toward the rows of ninety-foot tall vertical red brick kilns.
Tolbert mumbled between hacks: "My pistol…she's got my side arm."
Jon muttered a curse and joined Shepherd in pursuit…
…Nina darted between the old vertical furnaces that resembled smokestacks, dashing in and out of the long evening shadows. Her eyes worked back and forth, the handgun wobbled nervously; she stumbled every few steps. Finally, she navigated the maze and emerged at the rear of the tightly grouped structures. A short patch of woodland that might provide cover beckoned.
Nina sensed movement behind. She turned and pointed the gun at Jerry Shepherd.
"Nina," Shep spoke with his hands raised palm-out. "You put that gun down, and get back here so we can fix you up."
Brewer stood off and watched.
"All I can feel is anger. Is hate! Why is that?"
Shep said, "It's that thing they put in you. We have to get it out."
"Is it? Are you sure? All I've ever known…all I've ever done is hurt and kill. Is that all there is to me?"
He stepped closer. Just a little. She backed off.
"They used that against me! Programmed me like some kind of robot!"
Shep said, "Once we take that thing out of you, you'll be fine. It will all be fine."
"I…"
"No. You do it. Now."
Nina batted her eyes and cast them to the ground in an expression of guilt, dejection, and embarrassment, like a contrite teenager accepting punishment.
Shepherd grabbed the hand holding the pistol. He slowly twisted her wrist. Nina did not fight but she did not willingly surrender the gun, either. She grunted as the older man forced the weapon from her grasp.
Nina staggered to one knee and held her wrist.
"Trust me, Nina. Whatever that thing has done to you, you still know you can trust me."
She stood again, sheepishly, and let Shepherd lead her away…
…Except for Tyr, Trevor lay alone on a blanket under the white canopy hastily hung between a tree limb and a wagon. His expression did not change. His eyes saw, but not the tent: they saw hours of torment. They saw the torture-spider and bore bugs. The instruments of anguish long gone but the feeling remained; ingrained in the memory of his skin and his nerves and the pain centers of his brain.
A visitor entered the tent. Tyr raised his head but lowered it just as fast.
The Old Man sat on the ground and crossed his legs.
"Dirty pool," he said in a hushed voice. "That’s what this is, Trevor. The rest of us have been playin' by those rules but it seems some think they don't need to be following the script. And that's how we got here, Trev. Nothing right about this. No, Sir."
Trevor did not respond.
"Can you even hear me? I 'spect not. Not over the sound of all them screams. Yeah, I can hear them. Not a scratch on the outside, but your insides are more scrambled than an omelet, ain't that so? Your soldier-girl, they're yanking that slug-thing out of her right now and she'll probably be right as rain. But what they put in you…well, ain't no cure for that."
The Old Man held his hands over Trevor's body, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath…but the breath sucked in something other than oxygen.
"A man can take a lot of pain, but what they did to you…you can still feel all of it, can't you? That was the point. Get to your mind through this body of yours. Trevor-you listen to me-this wasn't supposed to go like this. Ole' Voggoth pulled a fast one. Now I can go and cry about him breakin' them rules but by the time that gets all sorted out this thing would be done and over with you on the sidelines. So here's what we're going to do, Trev. We're going to right the ship, as it were. We're going to settle the score. Now I can't make the nightmares go away; they're a part of you from now on. But I can dull them a little. Make them bad dreams: old, old memories. Take away the bite, as it were."
The Old Man sat next to Trevor for several minutes, but before he faded away, Trevor's eyes slid shut and he slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.
– The raiding party traveled for four nights to reach home. Trevor spent most of that journey asleep in the rear of a wagon. For him, the trip took the form of flashes from explosions and flares, and sounds from gunshots and roars.
He did not see the statue-like stone soldiers, the flying flower things, or the hippopotamus monsters with eyes on stalks.
Late in the afternoon of November 22, Jon Brewer’s successful rescue party arrived at the main gates of the estate. There the wounded, bruised, but ultimately victorious group received a welcome deserving of heroes.
To the surprise of all-particularly the rescue party-Trevor stood and walked off the wagon under his own power. He had not spoken a word for four days; Reverend Johnny figured he was locked into a waking coma of some kind, or completely insane. However, when the wagon stopped in the driveway, Trevor Stone stood and walked-with a stumble-into the mansion.
Trevor offered no explanation because he had none; he did not know how he had escaped the prison of screams in his mind.
Eventually, however, night came. Trevor would spend those nights alone in his bed, haunted by images of spidery shadows slinking along dark ceilings; of sickly mouths gnawing; of deadly swarms creeping. More than once he woke with a scream muffled behind locked lips and sweat dripping from every pore on his trembling skin. Yet they were only dreams, and they held little power over him. As if, perhaps, he had imagined the whole ordeal.
While the people welcomed Trevor home as a hero they eyed Nina with suspicion, no matter how many times Johnny proclaimed her free of implants.
Nina slipped away quietly to the sanctuary of her apartment, and there she stayed for a long time.
20. Storm
Jon Brewer faced his biggest decision of the conflict. His next move would determine victory or defeat.
A field blanketed in dead leaves served as the battleground. Overhead a blue sky, but in the distance gathering clouds suggesting that the surprising warmth of the afternoon was a prologue to an evening of storms.
But that would be later. For now, all depended on Jon’s next move.
He shared his plan with his unit: Tolbert did not like the idea but Benny Duda (Stonewall’s 12-year-old bugle boy) and Kristy Kaufman appreciated the creativity of the strategy and felt certain the enemy would be taken by surprise.
Jon moved his troops forward and grabbed the oblong, air-filled weapon from the ground.
Across the line of scrimmage waited the enemy: Dante Jones in front of Jon; Dustin McBride guarded Benny Duda; Woody "Bear" Ross squared off against Tolbert; and Kristy had drawn coverage from Anita Nehru.
Jon shouted, "Hut one! Hut two! Hike!"
He pulled the football close to his chest and dropped three steps back.
Dante Jones counted fast: "One-Mississippi…two Mississippi…"
Kristy ran the perfect buttonhook, exactly as diagramed in the dirt. Jon fired the ball just above the outstretched arm of Anita Nehru. Kristy bobbled it but held on.
Dustin McBride abandoned his coverage of Duda and lunged to tag the receiver. Tolbert, downfield by the end zone, engaged the larger Ross with a blocking move.
Kristy feinted to run but-as planned-flipped the ball to Benny Duda.
The unexpected move left Benny clear to race for the end zone…except Woody Ross threw Tolbert aside and blocked the kid's path.
The freckle-faced 12-year-old gasped. Ross, a first-round draft pick out of the University of Miami and one-time starting strong side linebacker for the Washington Redskins, stood between Duda and the winning touchdown.
Bear played it perfect. He stomped his feet, snarled, then let howl a cry of battle.
Duda yelled, "Ooo…shhhhhh… iiiiiii…ttttt…"
Ross reached to make the two-hand touch tag and…swatted air.
Duda spun away and pranced between the two bushes marking the endzone. The resulting celebration included knocking knees then spinning the ball on the ground and shooting it with pretend guns.
Woody "Bear" Ross stood alone in the field, the subject of intense scrutiny from the handful of people who played the role of the roaring crowd.
"God damn it, I won a national championship." He shook his head and smiled in an "awe shucks" sort of way. "Hey Bugle Boy!" Ross yelled with false fierceness. "Let’s play tackle!"
Benny's eyes grew wide and frightened as Ross ran at him like a charging bull. The kid raced off through the woods and down the slope to the parking lot behind the Methodist Church.
Trevor and Lori Brewer, standing amongst the dissipating crowd of spectators, laughed at the sight as they walked across the field. Jon joined them.
"Here comes Coach Lombardi," Stone, limping, joked.
"Chuck Knoll," the lifetime Steelers fan corrected.
Tyr and several other K9s trailed Trevor and the Brewers. The dogs did not understand football. They did not understand Thanksgiving either, and they certainly could not comprehend how a feast and a sport were so closely tied together. However, they did understand that hunting parties had been under special orders to catch wild turkeys.
Three days had past since Trevor’s return. During that time, Omar worked wonders with the power systems and K9 patrols indicated the surrounding area lacked any major threats. Add in the stories of victory brought home by the returning heroes and Trevor could understand why confidence once again soared.
Only one thing felt out of place.
Nina Forest barely saw or spoke to anyone, spending most of her time hidden away in her apartment above the A-Frame’s garage. She even changed her schedule so that she often ate in an empty dining hall.
As the trio left behind the football field, Trevor’s thoughts turned to the missing woman.
"She won’t see me," Lori explained. "I’ve tried, but she won’t talk to me. She won’t even talk to Shep. I think the only one she talks to is your dog, Odin. I see him following her around everywhere but that’s about it."
Trevor nodded and, as if trying to convince himself, said, "She’ll be at dinner tonight. She’ll be there."
Two hours after Benny Duda scored the winning touchdown on the gridiron, the community gathered for a Thanksgiving feast spread out among the rooms of the mansion. The only ones missing were the residents of the farms and Nina Forest.
They dined on slow-roasted wild turkey, instant mashed potatoes, stale "Stove Top" stuffing, as well as cranberries and vegetables from cans.
Everyone loved it.
They uncorked a dozen bottles of wine and enjoyed a Champagne toast.
For a couple of hours things felt… normal. Not even the approaching thunderstorms could ruin the evening.
Dinner did not so much end as fade away. Some stayed behind, such as Danny Washburn who desperately hit on Cassy Simms, and Evan Godfrey who cornered a few of the new arrivals to discuss ‘politics’.
Trevor, with Tyr by his side, left the church basement and walked alone in the darkness toward the mansion. A cold breeze ruffled his windbreaker. A flash of heavenly fireworks illuminated the churning waters of the lake.
Odin the Elkhound intercepted Trevor at the main gate and presented his Master with disturbing news.
Trevor listened and then turned north on the perimeter road as fast as his wounded legs would allow. The dogs followed at a discreet distance. The lightning flashed again over the lake; a rumble of thunder shook the night.
He followed the black top driveway on the grounds of the A-Frame house. He stopped outside of the garage where a solitary security light generated a circle of illumination around a Jeep Grand Cherokee, the one Trevor had hot-wired to evacuated Shepherd from the helicopter crash long ago.
Nina, dressed in her tactical outfit, descended the stairs from her apartment. She carried a duffel bag over her shoulder and held a camouflage jacket in her hands.
"What are you doing?"
She threw the bag and jacket in the rear seat of the Jeep.
"I’m leaving. I figured no one had used this Jeep in a while so I thought I’d take it."
"No you’re not."
She sighed and retrieved her bag and jacket from the rear seat.
"Okay then, I’ll walk."
"Why do you want to leave?"
Nina stopped.
She placed the bag on the ground with her jacket on top. Her eyes scanned everywhere but at him and she gently bit her lower lip.
A flash of lightning strobed the area. Thunder followed two seconds later.
"I don’t belong here."
"What? What the hell makes you say that?"
"I’m not like everyone else. I don’t fit in."
He told her, "We need you to stay. I want you to stay."
"After everything I did? I can’t believe you mean that."
He took a hesitant step forward. She finally glanced-briefly-at him.
More lightning. More grumbles of thunder. The wind whipped faster. The storm prepared to break.
"Damn it, Nina, what are you afraid of?"
"Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything."
"Then why the hell are you running? That’s what you’re doing, you know. Running away. You belong here more than anyone else does."
"I don’t deserve to be here! You…Lori…all of you… you all had lives before this. You all had…had something else. But you said it yourself; all I know is killing. And you said that this isn’t about just killing; it’s about saving. Since I’ve been here, I haven’t saved anyone. I’ve just killed. It’s all I know." The first rain drops tap-tap-tapped on the blacktop. "And those sons a bitches, they were able to use me because of that!"
He slipped in, "That wasn’t your fault."
"After what they did to you…and I stood there and let them do it…and before all that, to think that I thought that maybe we-maybe you and I-" she stumbled about, paused, then threw away the thought. "That’s why I have to go. I can go and kill on my own, without putting you or anyone else in danger."
Boom!
The lightning and thunder struck simultaneously.
"Nina…"
The rain fell in sheets.
She looked at him and shouted, "What is it you want from me? I’m sorry, damn it. There, I said it! I’m sorry I betrayed you. Now let me go! Just forget about me!"
Trevor yelled above the roar, "I can’t do that!"
The rain poured over them: a chilling rain. Her blond hair soaked and drooped. Sparkling droplets covered his windbreaker. Puddles formed across the black top.
"I can’t do that. I can’t forget about you, Nina. And I can’t let you run away."
"I have to…I don’t fit in…I don’t know anything but fighting and killing."
"That’s not what you’re running from."
The rain became a veil of water hanging in the glow of the security light.
He told her, "You’ve been hard and tough all your life and you’ve never run away before. You’re afraid of finding that there’s more inside. What is it you feel now? Guilt? Have you ever felt guilt before?"
She did not answer.
"I told you once that you were looking for something. I promised to tell you when the time was right."
The rain slammed against the pavement in a sea of water explosions creating a constant, drowning roar. Trevor felt a cold shiver shake his spine as the deluge poured upon him. The two dogs sat on the sidelines, their gray and black hair soaked through.
Nina ran the back of her hand across her face to clear a splash from her cheek.
Trevor dared a step closer.
"All your life you’ve wondered why you were different," he held his hands palms up as he spoke. "Why didn’t you fit in? Why weren’t you like the other kids? As you grew up, you watched what the other girls did and you copied them. You imitated them so that maybe they wouldn’t notice how different you were. But it was a lie."
A bolt of lightning arced overhead. A crackle of thunder boomed in response.
"When you were a woman, you went out with the boys. Sometimes…sometimes you let them…let them touch you. Let them do things…things they wanted to do. You hoped that if you let them then maybe you would feel something. But each time it was empty. Just empty feelings that faded away as fast as they came. And all that made you feel more alone."
Nina bowed her head.
"The one thing you were sure of was that you knew how to fight. You had strength. Courage. Speed. And when people saw that in you… when they saw such a beautiful woman…"
She raised her eyes at the word ‘beautiful’.
"…who was so strong and tough, they wondered; they wondered what had happened to make you that way. Was your father abusive? Or maybe you didn’t have a father. Or maybe when you were young some man hurt you…forced you…attacked you."
Beads of water covered his outstretched palms. Wet curls of hair sagged over her eyes.
"They figured there had to be a reason because no girl would choos e to be that way. No girl was naturally like how you were."
Nina burst, "There wasn’t anything! I loved my parents! I had a good family!"
"You grew up feeling different from the beginning. It didn’t take some outsider to make you who you are. You were that way from the start."
"I’m not like other people. I’m a monster…I don’t belong."
"You’ve been waiting, Nina," he pushed on through the drenching shower. "You’ve been waiting all your life for now. There’s more to you than fighting and killing, but it has been bottled inside waiting for all of this to happen," he waved his arms in the rain in reference to the new world in which they lived. "You’re like me but I had everything else before Armageddon. I had a life and love and hope. But I wasn’t a fighter. I wasn’t a leader. All of that was in me but I didn’t know it. This new world released it so I could do what I have to do."
"You’re not making sense! I–I’m leaving," she took a step but he blocked her escape.
"You’re not running away, Nina. I won’t let you. You’ve been looking all your life for the reason why you are who you are. That reason is right here…right now. If you embrace it, it will release the rest of you. You can find the person- the woman — inside of you without giving up the fighter. You can be whole, Nina."
The storm matched light with sound again.
"You’ve been looking for a cause; for a leader to follow. I offer myself as that leader. It’s why I’m here. It’s my purpose."
She staggered in the downpour, "I betrayed you!"
"Nina… I forgive you."
"Don’t! Don’t say that!"
"We need you. I need you, Nina. I need you to help me remember who I am. I need you to make this whole thing work. It falls apart without you."
"That’s a lie!" She wiped a wet curl from her eyes. "You don’t need me. You’re strong. You’re tough. You know everything you need to know."
"No I’m not. I’m not the toughest. That’s Jon. I’m sure as hell not the smartest. That’s Omar. I’m not the strongest. That’s you, Nina. You’re my strength. Stay here and we can find out what else you are. I can help you. We can all help you."
She did not speak.
"I’m a Jack of all Trades; a master of none," he told her because he knew there were limits to what he could "pick up" and how well he could do those things.
Trevor slowly, deliberately, knelt in front of her, first one knee then the other.
He asked, "What more can I do?"
It shocked her to see him on his knees.
"Stop it! Get up! You’re the leader. Leaders don’t get on their knees!"
"That's what I've learned, Nina. Leaders do anything for the cause. It isn't about ego; it's not about strength. It's about sacrifice. So I'm on my knees because I need you to stay. What will it take? I will humble myself. I will do whatever it takes to convince you because without you, we fail. Without you, I fail."
The puddle on the ground soaked through his pants. The rain splashed on his shoulders.
She stared at Trevor. She remembered the feelings that had been rising in her before the parasite had taken control. She remembered wanting to understand him; wanting to catch a glimpse of him. How she felt funny when he walked in the room.
Of course now all of that was gone. The feelings remained but she could never share them after betraying him so. She could never have what she feared her heart wanted.
Nevertheless, at that moment she understood those feelings clearly.
He found strength when he had needed to be strong. He fought when he had needed to fight. He had made mistakes, but not let them stop him. He had been decisive when decisiveness was called for; other times he had sought advice.
And at that moment, he humbled himself on his knees. He would disgrace himself. Shame himself. Kneel in a puddle of cold rain all for the sake of the great cause. No arrogance, no sense of self-importance. Only an understanding that he had one purpose in life, the way she felt she had only one purpose in life.
Trevor said through the blinding storm, "You deserve to be here more than any of us, because you have been ready for this moment all your life. You were strong before, while most of us are just finding that strength now. Stay here, with me. With us. Stay here and I promise I’ll help you find out more about who you are. Nina, I…"
The word came out of nowhere. He stopped, pushed it back, and hid it. He should not feel that way. The ghost of Ashley would not allow it. He could not let Nina go but he could not say what he wanted to say, either.
"I need you to stay," came the new words.
He feared she would walk away at that moment. Walk away and leave him kneeling in the rain. None of the tortures of The Order…none of the monsters of the new reality…none of them scared him as much as the thought of her disappearing into the night forever.
But she remained.
Nina held a hand to him. He grasped it and she lifted him to his feet.
The rain drove with a violent fury. The hair on both their heads had long since turned to soaking wet mops.
She searched his eyes…then bowed her head.
"I will stay," she spoke softly but with surety. "I will follow you. Whatever you tell me to do, I will do it. I am yours to command. I understand, now. I understand why Shep wanted to stay. I understand why people come from all around to find hope here. They do it because of you. Because of what you are. I will die for you. I will kill for you. Because you are truly a leader. You are my leader."
They stood there, facing one another as the rain poured, the lightning flashed, and the thunder boomed.
The storm continued through, bringing change on its winds.