Nemesis: Book Five (2 page)

* * *

K
nox sat
in one of the bunker's rooms, alone.

The bunker itself was extensive; Knox had been in it for a day now, and he still didn't understand his way around. Rooms on rooms, clearly planning for the worst case scenario. He didn't know this place's history, but he imagined it started sometime during the Cold War.

All of those thoughts were from the past day, though.

Now, alone in this room, new thoughts erupted from the soil of his mind like huge beanstalks in a fairytale. They stood massive in his mind, crowding out all other growth.

Marks killed the President.

The thought ran through Knox's mind on an endless loop, circling around and around with no way to pump the brakes or throw it off its track. The act seemed unfathomable, but if he doubted, all he had to do was remember the President's dead stare, with his mouth slightly open and his pink tongue barely poking out from behind his teeth. Hayley hit the table with a thud, and then just lay there like he wasn't the leader of the free world. No blood, no noise outside of the small possible protest the President attempted before his brain lost all contact with the rest of his body.

Knox had seen a lot of dead people. Clearly, this wasn't his first.

However, he had never witnessed a President's assassination from three feet away, and more, seen it done so cooly. Marks' smile was burned into Knox's mind almost as deep as the President's stare, the shine from Marks’ eyes in direct contrast with Hayley’s dull lifelessness.

Knox had thought he somewhat understood the depth of Marks' psychosis, but now he realized it had no end, that it went down and down into an oblivion so dark that perhaps Marks didn't even understand its end.

The President was dead, Marks jailed, and Knox in charge—or as in charge as someone with his ranking could be. The Vice President, now President, Trone, didn't have a clue as to what had been going on, nor how to stop the creature.

And do you?

No, he didn't. They made inroads with the ice, but that didn't matter anymore. Every man down there died when lava poured from the sky like the Devil's own rain. From all the satellite images (which were available now, apparently the alien did not feel it necessary to hide any longer), the white cake was spreading like a steroid injected weed. Knox didn't think the entire world contained enough ice to stop its growth, nor enough men—and no one understood what she was capable of, whether more fire might fall from the sky if they did send people in.

Knox was in charge, but didn't have any idea what to do.

So he sat in this room, alone, not hiding exactly—yet not ready to face the world. He didn’t have much time for this self imposed quarantine though, because Trone called a meeting at half past.

What had Marks been thinking? Was it anger that drove him to murder? Knox didn't see it, not in the man's eyes or smile. He saw something else, something that scared him far more than simple anger. He saw cunning, an animalistic cunning, when Marks reached out and snapped Hayley's neck. He saw someone that thought their actions through, and now with Marks in a cage, Knox felt those outside of the cage were the ones who hadn't thought through what came next.

M
orena stood
in the middle of white fields. Fields looking like they stretched forever, Morena unable to see their end. She wanted this, all of it, and now she saw the reason for her struggle. Weakness still spread through her body like a cancer, but looking at the world around her, she knew everything had been worth it.

Her first born, her husband's namesake—Briten—stood at her side, his aura supporting hers, keeping her upright.

The woman, Rigley, was behind them, but close. While Morena felt completely at peace with the world, Rigley didn't and Morena could taste it through her aura—even weakened. To Rigley, this world was strange, something she didn't understand, and yet she helped birth it.

All around Morena, her children stood looking at her. None of them spoke, none truly even understood what their aura showed them, but even so, they knew Morena. Mother. Var. The one that brought them here, into existence, and Morena felt their love beaming all around her.

Hundreds of them spread out across the land, with even more beyond that, beyond the horizon. They were here now, alive, and Morena's struggle was nearly done. In a few days time, their force would be too great for all the weapons on Earth to curb, and Bynimian would return.

Morena's knees gave out, but before she could fall, Briten's aura tightened, holding her up.

"Shelter," she said, trying to get her footing back beneath her. She had seen her children and her mind forgot what she just put herself through, and if she continued forgetting, she would end up hurting herself.

She couldn't do anything for them, or anyone else, right now. She needed rest and when she woke, she could devote herself to this world and what it would become.

Briten said nothing, but walked forward, heading to a massive shape buried underneath millions of white strands.

He understood what Morena told him, and even in her weakness, she smiled as he helped her walk, because his understanding meant he was nearly fully developed. Morena looked forward at the shape, hoping that her son could somehow do something with whatever lay underneath it. He would find her shelter, because even in infancy, she felt the same love burning from him as the rest of her children.

* * *

R
igley followed the young alien
, not because she wanted to, but because what other choice did she have? The world around her … she couldn't quite grasp what she saw. She wasn't walking on Earth, but some far away planet, one that she must have traveled to even though she couldn't remember the voyage. Because Earth was green. Earth held humans. The Earth she knew grew trees and asphalt roads, Wal-Marts and movie theaters.

This world, the one in front of her eyes and beneath her feet, possessed none of that. White made up this world, even more white than existed when she first arrived. No humans living in houses populated this place, but alien creatures standing on white fields like some kind of mute, yet beautiful, versions of Rigley herself. They all stared at Morena, following her with their eyes while colors floated around them.

This is what you wanted. Her children to be born. Now you have it.

Yes. She wanted to save all those children in all those capsules, and she had. Rigley didn't know what that meant to the rest of the United States; she had no idea how the world fared outside this wonderland, but she knew that Morena's children survived and now looked to be thriving as well.

What does that mean?
she asked herself as they walked across the spongy strands.

That everything you ever knew is changing. That Morena and her children now rule this place. That your kind are in the past, even if they don't realize it yet.

What had she thought would happen? What did she think she was doing when she told Morena where to attack?

Shut up. Just fucking stop. You saved her children when you couldn't save your own. You saved her when you killed so many before. You did what was right, now help her raise them. Help her be their mother. You picked your side when you left the base, so don't start fucking doubting it now.

The thoughts continuously struggled for dominance inside her as the rest of the world focused only on the creature with the green aura. Rigley was too far inside herself to notice how far they walked, or the increasing number of creatures across the land. What world had she wanted?
What
had she wanted? Was this it?

Shutupshutupshutupshutup.

She didn't want to think about any of this—she only wanted to find peace.

And have you found it?

She didn't come back to reality until they stopped in front of a huge hill, one covered in the same strands she walked on.

Briten had stopped walking, Morena too.

Rigley's mind recalled Morena saying she needed shelter, but this place appeared to have none. Rigley could walk atop the hill in front of her and see for a mile, but she already knew that however far she saw, it all looked the same. Humans built houses. These creatures built … strands ….

Briten's pale blue aura spread, though not releasing Morena as it did. The aura moved quickly, ripping across the white field like a wind, encircling the mound. Rigley watched, her internal dialogue stopping for just a moment as the strange color wrapped around it.

Once the blue fully held the hill, the aura dripped down like thick syrup, long strings dropping to the strands beneath.

The white covering fell back, from the very top, an opening in the seemingly endless armor. As the aura kept dripping, the strands backed away, down the hill, revealing what they had covered: a house. No damage to be seen, it looked just as it had two weeks ago—before all of this.

The strands kept moving down, the roof peeking through, then the outer walls, and finally the yard, until the entire property stood alone, surrounded by white.

Briten's aura flowed back to him as quickly as it left and then both he and Morena walked into the house without turning to look at Rigley.

Rigley followed them into the house, her eyes wide as she stared at the furniture which had just been covered with an alien species, but now looked like it was bought off a showroom floor yesterday.

No one bothered closing the door as they crossed the house's threshold. Morena, with Briten's help, made her way across the foyer and into the living room. She sat down on one of the couches, and Rigley finally looked at her, pulling her eyes away from the house.

She was weak.

Vulnerable.

And Rigley was lost in the middle of it all.

Morena looked up at
Rigley
as Briten's aura lay her across the couch.

"How long before the humans are operational?"

* * *

"
D
o
you have any idea where you're going?" Wren asked.

Briten understood who this man was now—the father of the body he inhabited. Michael’s father.

Briten didn't even glance up from the road to acknowledge him. The man had been asking questions since they got into the car. He would ask one, and when Briten didn't answer, he would fall silent again—maybe for ten minutes or so—and then ask another.

Briten wasn't angry or annoyed at any of them; he simply didn't care enough to answer. Most of the questions centered around the man's son, this question was actually the first about their destination. Briten knew the answers to the
Michael
questions, but this one … well he wasn't quite sure. He knew where Michael told him to drive, but that didn't necessarily mean they were heading to the right place. Briten crosschecked Michael's directions with his internal guide, the one saying he was moving toward Morena, not away. Michael wasn't lying. Briten didn't think the boy would endanger his father or friend with a lie.

The truth? Briten had to trust this boy some. He couldn't make it alone on this planet, and he couldn't fully control the kid's mind, so when Michael told him to take a left, Briten took a left.

"Turn the radio on," Wren said. "Turn it on the news."

What's he talking about?
Briten asked Michael.

The middle of the car, in the front. He wants you to press the button with the red circle on it.

Why?

He wants to know what is happening.

What's happening?
Briten
said.

Yeah, like with the world. With Morena. What we're doing against her.

Briten reached forward and pressed the button, the idea that the entire species might be talking about his wife both startling and interesting him.

"Right there. Leave it," Wren said from the back seat.

Briten listened as the words flowed into the car, static coming along with them. This species was just so primitive, unable to remove noise from their airwaves … Makers, they still used airwaves.

Bryan gasped.

“Jesus…." Wren said, his voice a whisper.

What's it mean?
Briten said to Michael. He heard what the radio said, but couldn't understand the desperation in Wren's voice. The person on the radio spoke too quickly, matching the fever that Briten now felt in the car.

Hush!

The boy grasped it, though. Perhaps everyone in the car did but Briten.

"I can't believe it …,” Wren whispered.

What's happening?

Michael was quiet for a few seconds, only the words from the radio filling up Briten's head.

"The President has gone into hiding in order to make sure no other attacks can reach him…."

The world is ending
, Michael said.
She's ending it.

* * *

M
ichael stood in his library
, the book that he had held in his hand now on the floor, its pages open and face down.

He didn't even know he dropped it; when the radio's words began filling the library—coming in from the speakers above—he simply lost track of everything he was doing, unable to keep up with the paragraphs on the paper.

She dropped lava from the sky. That's what the radio said. She dropped lava from Grayson all the way to Washington D.C.. The President was in hiding, and the dead buried under pounds and pounds of rocks. The roads were no longer passable; no one could travel on major highways moving up and down the East Coast. Thousands of lives gone in an afternoon.

And she had pulled the lava from where?

But Michael knew the answer to that. She pulled it from the hole she opened up out there in the forest, straight from Earth's inner sanctum.

He was reading everything he could in this library, trying to understand as much as possible about what he now saw as two separate species. He wanted to know what they meant to do, and maybe what he could do to stop them. He didn't need to read anymore to understand the first part though; the radio told him all he needed.

They wanted to kill everyone. They would wipe out all of humanity.

He watched as Briten came to understand what the radio told him, what Wren's terror meant, and seeing that chilled Michael perhaps more than the knowledge of what actually happened.