Authors: David Brookover
Neo Doss’ muscular six-foot-six frame rested against a post in the crowded Columbus International Airport baggage claim area. To the average traveler, he appeared to be waiting for his bags to arrive on the carousel, but to the discerning eye, Neo’s continual scanning of the incoming passengers betrayed his laid back performance. He was constantly searching for both trouble and his best friend, Nick Bellamy.
And he didn’t like what he saw.
Trouble arrived in the form of several NSA agents who melted into the crowd and continually scanned the area. Neo had a real good idea who they were watching for: Nick. Why, he had no idea, but he could always count on his friend to stir the pot wherever he went. This time, it was California.
Neo shifted his weight. He was anxious to learn the details of Nick’s investigation out there as soon as they returned to
Old Mother Hubbard’s
. In the meantime, they had the NSA agents to deal with.
Neo was mildly surprised to see Nick exit the nearby men’s room instead of filing into the baggage claim area from the airline gates. Nick jerked his head toward the exit, indicating he would connect with Neo outside along the curbside row of parked cars.
Unfortunately, an NSA agent loitering near the taxi stand spotted Nick striding through the exit doors. The agent spoke rapidly into his handheld walkie-talkie, and three other agents quickly joined the pursuit. After giving the holstered gun beneath his lightweight jacket a friendly pat, Neo waited to leave until all the agents filed through the doors ahead of him. Neo scrutinized the jabbering crowd as he searched for Nick.
Meanwhile, Nick caught sight of the flood of NSA agents spilling from the terminal, so he ducked into the closest taxi. Neo observed Nick’s quick movement, but none of the agents saw it. Neo jogged along the terminal car lane where it merged with the taxi and bus lane, so Nick’s taxi could easily pick him up. Two NSA agents hidden near the intersection spotted the big man heading for the only moving yellow taxi. The vehicle slowed long enough for Neo to dive into the backseat and then took off like a rocket. The two agents drew their guns and fired at the vanishing taxi, shooting out the rear window. The shattered window showered the riders with hundreds of safety glass chips.
The people nonchalantly loading luggage into their cars screamed and ducked for cover once the deafening gunshots rang out beneath the extended portico. Billows of bluish gun smoke drifted toward them, forcing the smoke-sensitive individuals to race inside the terminal.
The taxi driver wanted to stop and assess the damage to his vehicle, but Nick promised him a thousand dollar tip if he continued to drive away from the airport.
Once the driver agreed, Nick turned to Neo. “Where are you parked?”
“In the short-term parking lot.”
As soon as they cleared the portico and approached the Interstate 270 ramp, Nick tossed a thousand dollars on the front seat, grasped Neo’s big hand, and teleported them away. The driver was dumbfounded when he looked in the backseat and saw his fares were gone, but the tip beside him quelled his curiosity. He decided to take the rest of the day off and get his rear window repaired.
Nick and Neo reappeared next to a fastidiously washed and waxed white, turbo powered Mercedes-Benz GLA 250.
“Let’s get moving,” Nick urged, searching the garage for their NSA friends.
Neo gunned the Mercedes-Benz, and it roared through the parking garage maze to the toll booth. Neo threw the young man a fifty dollar bill and told him to keep the change. The liftgate was raised immediately, and Neo headed for Interstate 71 South.
“Why were those NSA agents so eager to hang your carcass above their fireplace mantels?” Neo asked with a deep frown. “You piss off the government?”
“It appears that way.”
“So what gives?”
Nick grinned despite the nerve-racking state of affairs. Jonathon Foster’s team wouldn’t stop hunting him until they put a bullet between his eyes, but Nick might beat Foster to the punch and put a bullet through his forehead first. “You might say my interviews got results … and our enemy is on to me, but that’s not the worst part.”
Neo glanced wordlessly at his friend.
“The criminals behind the
Final Scream
operation plan to eliminate Gabriella, too—and soon, and I don’t have a clue who’s coming after us.”
Neo winced. “Ouch!”
“No shit. For that reason, I’m changing our game plan.”
Neo arched a brow.
“Since she’s at home, we’re going to her place, where we can protect her.
Old Mother Hubbard’s
can wait.”
“Duneden it is, then.” Neo paused. “Why don’t you teleport over to Gabriella’s mansion?”
“Her would-be killer happens to be another necromancer, and I might teleport into a trap.”
“You’re a pretty damn powerful magician yourself. What makes you think he could stop you?”
“
She.
The necromancer’s a woman.”
“Jesus! Another witch. But I thought you didn’t know who she was?”
“I don’t know any specific details about her other than her sex. You see, I experienced a new magical ability on the plane and…” Nick went on to describe the information absorption incident.
“You’re always evolving, Nick. We just get used to you looking one way, and the next thing you know, your genes turn you into someone completely different. I wonder when those crazy genes of yours are going to call it quits.”
“Who knows? They’re scaring the hell out of me right now.”
“You and me both, brother!”
Nick dropped the subject and phoned Crow. The computer genius picked up on the second ring.
“I don’t have time for chit-chat, Crow. I want you to take your laptop to Gabriella’s place ASAP and be sure it’s linked to
Geronimo
. I have a feeling we’re going to need his help.”
“Sure. What’s this all about?”
“I’ll tell you when you get there.”
“Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. Arm yourself, and order
Geronimo
launch one of our warrior drones to track you in case you get ambushed on the way.
Geronimo
is to protect you at all costs.”
“This sounds serious. Why don’t we meet here, where it’s safer?” Crow asked.
Nick hesitated. “Because someone’s out to kill Gabriella.”
“Shut the door! Hey, hold on a sec,” Crow exclaimed before he muted the phone. He came back online a minute later, and his voice sounded strained.
“What’s the matter?” Nick demanded, fearing the answer.
“
Geronimo
ran a scan over Gabriella’s estate with one of the nearby military satellites and found the outer perimeter crawling with gunmen.”
“Probably Foster’s guys,” Neo muttered.
“What’d Neo say?” Crow asked.
“Never mind. The men aren’t inside the fence yet, are they?”
“That’s what I said, Great White Hunter.”
“Did he see Gabriella anywhere?”
“Yeah. She’s cruising Lake Griffin in her boat.”
Nick slapped his thigh. “Dammit! The gargoyles can’t see her out on the lake if she runs into trouble.”
Noah searched the violent scene for clues to Reese’s disappearance and discovered a damaged sniper’s rifle and shattered scope a few yards from her hideaway. The sunset torched the beach in fiery oranges and reds as it gradually sank into the western horizon. He absently watched the boulders cast increasingly long, irregular shadows.
Twilight grays washed away the colorful sunset, and Noah sat and studied the darkening scene. There was one set of tracks leading to Reese’s cave—human ones—and numerous scattered tracks that were definitely
not
human. The deeper four-clawed striding imprints revealed creatures—plural—that looked to be eight to ten feet tall and weighing in at three to four hundred pounds.
A startling ocean gust from the west chilled him to the bone, and he gazed in that direction. He recoiled in horror ! The icy breeze hadn’t come from the Pacific.
A flock of golden winged monsters hovered above the crashing surf in the fading twilight before deftly landing in a circle around Noah. His legs were too weak to run, and even if he did retrieve his REC7 lying beside the cave, he couldn’t shoot them all before one nailed him. And besides, he was too tired and hungry to attempt such madness.
Their brawny bodies were umber, and their golden leathery wings folded tightly against their spines so they didn’t interfere with the movement of their
four
arms—two joined at their shoulders, and two attached to their bony torso. Their lizard-dog muzzle faces wore barbaric expressions. High cheekbones bounded flat nostrils at the base of their muzzles, and their lips were retracted, showing menacing rows of brown teeth. The ears were short and spiked on either side of their broad, hairless skulls, and the outline of their ribcages thrust out from their slick-skinned chests like a sculpted six pack. The ends of their four knotted fingers looked like humanoid nails in contrast to their large feet and their four bronze-colored, spur-tipped toes.
So what next?
Their copper eyes studied him as if
he
were an alien from outer space, which he vaguely found ironic. The longer Noah stared at their unblinking eyes, he got the distinct impression that they weren’t hostile monsters. They looked intelligent.
Was he being foolish? Had his hunger finally taken hold of his senses and fired up his imagination?
Did they
spirit Reese away from Terror Island?
Noah’s stomach burbled wildly and started the beach spinning. He fell into the soft sand. He was sure his sudden movements would provoke them into an attack, but he was wrong. They stood around him like statues. He was faced with a Mexican standoff, and with the darkness growing deeper, he decided to go for the gusto.
What the hell?
He
was too weak to care much about dying.
“I am Noah Wright, and I’m searching for my friend, Reese Morgan. Have you seen her?” he enunciated for their benefit. They continued to stare at him.
Was he wrong about them being intelligent
? He hoped not.
The tallest alien was at least eleven feet tall, and it stepped forward, breaking the circle. It towered above Noah like a human parent standing over a toddler. Noah was close to backing off and begging for his life, but his waning measure of pride wouldn’t let him.
“Well, have you seen Reese Morgan?” he asked, displaying false bravado.
The monster grunted loudly, and the other creatures responded with answering noises. Noah merely sat and weathered the excruciatingly loud communication.
The aggressive alien bent and closely examined the seemingly fearless human. Its breath was akin to days-old roadkill and sickened Noah, but he didn’t flinch. At long last, it straightened and stepped back into the circle.
One of creature’s four hands curled into a fist and beat its burly chest twice. “Lothran!” it spoke in a thick-tongued voice. The others mimicked him by repeating that single word. Noah’s dazed mind debated the meaning of the word until it dawned on him. Lothran wasn’t the creature’s name—it was the name of their species.
Noah raised his hand, and the aliens ceased their mindless repetition. He addressed them like Johnny Weissmuller spoke to the natives in the old
Tarzan
movies. “Me, Noah. You, Lothrans.”
They looked questioningly at each other, and then the leader spoke again.
“Noah go with us now.”
Noah was amazed the winged beings could actually put speak in complete sentences! He was right all along. They
were
intelligent. He grabbed a handful of dry sand and let it spill out between his fingers. Conversing with the winged creatures was one thing. Trusting them was quite another.
“Why should Noah go with you?”
There was a prolonged and strained silence, and he presumed they didn’t understand the question. He was about to rephrase it when the island shook beneath him.
An earthquake?
Thin, pitch black smoky ribbons spiraled into the twilight sky from Terror Island’s mountaintop, and suddenly the quaking intensified and glowing red lava exploded into the air. More smoke. Thicker this time. And steaming lava streaming down toward the beach.
Noah cast an eye at the Lothrans, but none of them appeared surprised or frightened by the violent activity. Noah was the one taken by surprise. There was no indication of a volcano under the mountaintop last night,
so what triggered the eruption?
Did the Lothrans unleash the destructive force?
As farfetched as it seemed, Noah suspected they caused the volcano to persuade him to leave the island with them.
A rolling pyroclastic cloud belched from the expanding cone and rumbled down the steep cliff, devouring the lush jungle landscape. The 2,000 degree wave of gas and rock raced toward the group at 400 miles per hour. At that speed, it would reach them in less than thirty seconds.
The Lothran leader glanced down at Noah. “You go, or stay here?”
“I’ll go! I’ll go! Let’s get a move on!” Noah screamed above the thunderous pyroclastic flow.
The tall leader scooped Noah off the sand with its lower arms and released its wings. With the pyroclastic flow literally hot on their trail, the Lothrans flapped away over the Pacific. The powerful flyers were far away from Terror Island out to sea when the flow collided with the sea with a shrieking sizzle and billowing steam.
Were the Lothrans taking him to Reese? Or did they have an ulterior motive, like serving him for dinner with a tangerine in his mouth?
They banked hard and changed course toward the green mountainous island he and Reese saw that first night in the storm. The island they planned to visit the first chance they got.
Noah glanced back over his shoulder at Terror Island as the Lothrans veered north and was stunned to see the pyroclastic flow destroy three United States Blackhawk helicopters in the air above the cove. A U.S. Navy destroyer was anchored a mile offshore, and Noah’s spirits momentarily soared until he realized he and the Lothrans were flying away from the destroyer and below its radar level. His hopes for rescue sank when the volcanic smoke blocked the ship from his view. He couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see him.
The Lothrans abruptly dived into a valley between four heavily forested mountains.
Would he ever see Reese and civilization again?
He seriously doubted it … unless someone searched for him on this Godforsaken island.
But who was savvy enough to track him now that the volcano destroyed most of Terror Island?
Nobody.
He was as good as dead.