ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) (37 page)

I hadn’t penetrated.

Hadn’t harmed the thing in the least.

I lay prone, stunned and disappointed, on the ground.

The Phants closed. The slug remained motionless—I had the impression it was holding back, saving me for the alien mists.

I forced myself to rise, feeling beaten.

But I wasn’t going to quit. Not yet. Though I sorely wanted to.

I couldn’t, or Queequeg had died for nothing.

I activated my jetpack, zooming away from the Phants, and the slug.

I landed amid the crab horde, and I started slogging my way through the morass of mandibles and pincers. I felt like a helpless larva hurled into the center of an anthill, trying to make my way off the hill while the swarming ants relentlessly attacked.

All my limbs felt extremely heavy now. I don’t know if it was because of the crabs hanging from my body, or the consecutive damage inflicted by them. One of my headlamps winked out.

I just kept swinging my arms and lifting my legs, plowing onward.

I saw another slug at the periphery of my reduced light cone, blocking the rearward path, too.

More Phants edged past it.

So this was it.

My last stand.

I was hemmed in on all sides.

My only regret was that another human being would have to die with me. If there was a way I could’ve saved Fan, I would have gladly chosen that path. But there wasn’t.

Unless . . .

“Fan, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

A crab leaped at my face. I grabbed two of its legs, and pulled crosswise, tearing the limbs clean away. Then I gave the carapace a good kick, sending it tumbling into the next wave.

“How have you survived so long?” I said into the comm.

Fan chuckled. “I wedged myself between the jetpack and upper back of your mech. They do not realize I am here.”

“Way to fight like a man,” I said.

“I am an engineer, not a warrior.”

“Whatever. You’re military. I know that now.”

Another crab bit into my right arm. A big one.

I slammed it into the cave wall twice, cracking its carapace open. “Fan, I’m letting the mists take Battlehawk. The Yaoguai.”

“
What
?” The terror was evident in his voice.

I bashed a third crab aside. “It’s what they want. It’s the only way out. For you, anyway. I’m not sure if I’ll make it. Stay alive if you can.”

“They are demons. You will die. I will die. Hideous deaths.”

A fourth crab bit into my thigh.

“We’re dead anyway,” I told him. “Stay hidden, and you might live.”

I bashed the crab aside, and then I turned toward the closest Phant.

“Wait, Shaw Chopra!” Fan exclaimed. “You cannot do this! Just because you have lost your pet—”

I barreled through the crabs and leaped into the alien vapor.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rade

T
he universe had changed.

Humanity, once considered the dominant species in the galaxy, had abdicated its throne.

The galaxy, once our playground, was ruled by a technologically superior race, leaving us confined to the sandbox of our homeworld.

Subservience was not in our nature. Not in
my
nature.

But here I was, trapped on Earth, living a life that was not my own. A victim of circumstance.

“You’re a bit introspective tonight, Rade,” Shaw said.

“Introspective?” I dug into a piece of venison. “No. I’m downright pensive.”

“What’s on your mind?” she said.

“Ah, nothing.”

“Still miss the Navy, don’t you?” she said.

I was a hunter now. I caught and cleaned my own food. I lived a simple life. The only concern I had was feeding myself and my wife with what the woods provided. Gone were the days when I piloted steel monsters into battle against creatures from nightmare, fighting side by side with men closer to me than brothers. Gone were the days of endless drills and PT and carbohydrate-dense food. Gone was the camaraderie. The warrior spirit.

I’d given it all up. Asked the Chief to transfer me to a different Team, and shortly after that I’d quit. I was deported at the end of my deployment, and the war ended without me. Not in humanity’s favor.

As for Shaw, she had been a prisoner of war, but was returned by the enemy as a token of goodwill. We were together again, and living out our lives in peace.

I was happy.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Shaw got up and went to the window of the log house to stare at the countryside beyond. The setting sun tinted her face a winsome orange. She looked so beautiful standing there in the waning light.

I couldn’t believe I was contemplating leaving her.

She rested a hand on her belly, which swelled with the pleasant hump of pregnancy. “We moved out here to get away from it all, but you have too much time on your hands now, and all you do is sit and think about the past. Maybe we should go back to the city? Get a serving robot. Get food vouchers. Live the way everybody else lives.”

I shot her a look. “You know very well why we don’t live in the city. We’re safer out here.”

“The war is over, Rade. Humanity surrendered. We gave up our ships and agreed to reside on Earth. The cities are safe now. Humanity won’t be attacked again.”

I set down my fork. Maybe a little too hard. “There’s no way I’m moving out to the city, not with all those Burrowers under the surface. You know they’re attracted to populated areas. Sure, they’ve left humanity alone. For now. But as far as I’m concerned they could emerge again at any time. So no, we can’t go back.” I paused. “Not you and the baby, anyway.”

Shaw lifted her hand from her belly and turned from the window so that half her face was cast in shadow. “What are you saying?”

I couldn’t hold her gaze. “Nothing.”

I concentrated on the deer meat. Sliced a piece. Ate it. Methodically cut off another piece. I felt Shaw’s piercing eyes on me the whole time.

“If you want to go, then go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never held you back. And I won’t do it now. But believe me when I say this: there’s nothing for you out there.”

I slowly met her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

She opened and closed her mouth, like she wanted to tell me something, then she looked back out the window. “Such a beautiful evening. How warm do you think it is tonight?”

I sliced off another slab of meat. “I don’t know.”

“Check your Implant.”

“Fine.”

HUD on
, I thought.

The aReal built into my head, otherwise known as my Implant, overlaid a log-on window across my vision. A typical log-on session lasted two weeks, and it must have just expired, requiring me to reenter my access credentials.

Automatically, I started thinking my password.

Alejandro—

Something stopped me. I’m not sure what.

“No,” I said.

Shaw smiled patiently. “No?”

“Check the weather with your own Implant,” I said defiantly.

She came forward, and rested a tender hand on my cheek. “I had my Implant permanently removed. Don’t you remember, honey?”

“Well, I’m sure we have another aReal around here somewhere.” I don’t know why I was being so uncooperative. She just wanted me to check the weather after all.

“Sweetie, we gave all that stuff away before we left the city. The only way we keep in touch with the world and our friends is through your Implant. Speaking of which, I want to send Lindsay an e-mail. Would you mind?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

I started thinking my password again.

Alejandro has—

Again something stopped me.

I glanced at her. “Who’s Lindsay?”

She furrowed her brow. “Don’t play this game. Lindsay, my friend from bootcamp.”

“You’re talking Navy bootcamp? As in Basic?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “What other bootcamp would I be talking about?”

I thought back. Shaw and I took Basic together. We were in the same recruit division. “I don’t remember anyone named Lindsay from Basic,” I said slowly.

“You don’t?” Shaw said mockingly. “Are you telling me you knew the name of everyone in Basic? That’s what I thought. E-mail please.”

“Why don’t I remember you ever sending an e-mail to Lindsay before?”

Shaw frowned. “You’ve been having a lot of trouble with your memory lately. Tell me, what were you doing one week ago? A month? You don’t know, do you?”

“Of course I know,” I said. “Last week, I—” She was right, actually. “That’s strange, but I can’t recall . . .”

“It’s the accident,” Shaw said.

“The accident?”

“Look, do we have to do this now?” Shaw said. “I just want to send an e-mail.”

I crossed my arms. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Her face darkened and she turned away.

A deep rumbling came from outside, like the beginning of a long earthquake.

I heard branches and twigs breaking in the distance, followed by a familiar clattering.

“Get to the cellar,” I told Shaw.

My old-school rifle lay against the wall by the door. I grabbed it and hurried outside.

By the light of dusk, an alien crab approached the log house from the woods. It was a smaller one, about as big as my body.

I lifted my rifle, aimed at the place where an eyestalk joined one of its multiple heads, and fired. The thing splattered.

Another crab came. Another. I shot them too. Methodically, just as methodically as I had eaten dinner.

As more of them appeared, I began targeting the cords, which, when severed, killed them just the same.

But the things kept coming.

Shoot a crab. Aim at the next. Shoot. Aim. Shoot. Aim.

There were too many of them.

It was hard to see in the dim light. If I logged on to my Implant, I might be able to target them faster, because then the crabs and their cords would be outlined in red.

For some reason, I resisted that idea.

I was forced to retreat inside the house; mandibles and claws snatched at the air behind my back.

I slammed the door.

Shaw hadn’t gone to the cellar like I’d told her to.

Well, too late for that now. She was always headstrong.

“Barricade the door!” I said.

With Shaw’s help, I upturned the table and rammed it against the door.

A claw smashed through the nearby window, and I shot it. Another claw appeared. Then the window on the opposite wall shattered. Mandibles poked through.

The house was surrounded by the things.

“Rade, use your Implant!” Shaw said. “Call for help.”

I pulled up the log-on screen.

Alejandro has his—

I froze. I glanced at her. There was an eager sheen in her eyes.

“HUD off,” I said aloud, and the log-on screen vanished.

“What have you done?” Shaw said.

Abruptly the entire roof sheared off.

Above us, a giant slug slammed its body downward like a bludgeon.

I knew none of my bullets would ever pierce it, but I fired anyway.

That ponderous body continued downward unhindered—

I woke, drenched in a cold sweat.

A dream.

I sighed in the darkness, then I blinked away the mist from my eyes, trying to get my bearings.

I was in a bed. It felt frigid, though I was covered in multiple sheets.

The bed shifted as someone moved on the mattress beside me.

That same someone rested a hand on my forehead.

“The dreams again?” A woman’s voice.

Shaw?

Momentarily confused, I stared at her outline in the dark.

“I thought they’d stopped,” the woman said, sitting up. The room brightened slightly.

Yes, it was Shaw. She reached toward the nightstand beside her.

I rubbed my eyes, and accepted the glass of water she offered me.

I staggered sleepily from the bed and went to the bathroom. The lamps detected my movement and the light level subtly increased along my route, providing barely enough illumination to see by.

I washed my hands in the sink and splashed my face in cold water. I slapped my cheeks. Not a dream.

“What’s going on, Rade?” I said to my reflection.

I returned to the bedroom, and went to one of the windows. I stared at the darkened countryside outside; the house was surrounded by pines, willows, and other forest trees. My eyes drifted upward, to the starry sky.

Shaw came up from behind and embraced me. I could feel her baby bump press into my side.

“Shaw, tell me something,” I said. “Do you ever get the feeling humanity was meant for more than this?”

“Than what?”

“We’re restricted to our homeworld, yet we have the technology to travel to the stars. We should be up there, not trapped down here.”

“But this is where we belong,” Shaw said.

I didn’t answer.

“Do you love me?” she said.

“I do.”

“Would you do anything for me?”

“I would.”

“Then come back to bed. You have a family now. A wife who loves you. An unborn child who needs you. Humanity doesn’t want you to fight anymore.”

“You’re right,” I said. “But something just seems . . . I don’t know, off, somehow. Why is my memory so fragmented?”

Shaw’s face became grave. “You know you’ve suffered selective amnesia since the accident. Your memories will return someday. The doctor promised they would. Do we need to see him? Am I losing you again?” A slight air of hysteria crept into her voice.

I pursed my lips. “No, honey.”

She appeared relieved. “Good. Now come back to bed.”

She led me back, and I closed my eyes.

Shaw fell asleep first. I knew because of the shift in her breathing.

Except, it wasn’t
her
breathing.

I’d slept with Shaw countless times on the
Royal Fortune
. Heard her breathing beside me as she napped in the dark. Always her breath came in smooth, continuous patterns.

But there was nothing smooth and continuous about her breathing tonight: she paused briefly between each breath, like someone with a strange form of sleep apnea.

I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination. My memory wasn’t right. We’d just discussed that. Maybe her sleeping and breathing patterns had changed after the ordeals she’d experienced as a prisoner of war.

Still, before I drifted off, I couldn’t shake the uncanny sensation that the woman lying beside me looked like Shaw, sounded like Shaw, acted like Shaw . . .

Yet was
not
Shaw.

The next day I got up early and bid her a silent farewell as she slept. I noticed the apneic pauses again. Without sleep fogging my mind, those pauses seemed even more pronounced to me, and I convinced myself it wasn’t really Shaw.

I abandoned her and the house because I wanted answers. I didn’t really know where I’d go. In the dream, I’d told Shaw the cities were unsafe. Except that wasn’t me talking, but rather the voice of my nightmares.

So the city, then.

I’d find my answers there.