Nemesis: Book Five (21 page)

She watched as his aura grabbed multiple people by their heads, picking them up as if he had ten hands, and launched them into burning buildings. She couldn't hear their shrieks, but she knew down there where he walked, their pain blasted as if on loudspeakers. Their skin burned like paper, their raw flesh dying under the hellish heat. He hadn't needed to do that, to throw them into burning buildings, but he did it as naturally as he breathed.

He could have let them run. They still would have died eventually, but perhaps less gruesomely.

Yet still, even with the cruelty, Morena felt pride. Her son was making way for his brethren, for his mother.

"It's beautiful," Briten said from her side, her aura supporting him. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were alive. Whatever thoughts troubled him on the ground—all were cast to the side now. Below was what he had been born to do, and he saw it for the first time, what should have been him. He felt none of the fear Morena did; because Junior and he both breathed the same air, all of it filled with death and smelling wonderful.

"I wanted you to see it," she said, not looking away from him.

"Thank you …," he whispered, his eyes staring down.

W
ater dripped
from Helos' body as if she just walked from beneath a waterfall. The white wrapped around her as Helos shivered. She knelt down, feeling the soft sand beneath her palms. She didn't try to dig in, though, because she didn't have the strength.

Her mouth hung open, and her lungs heaved in the air that they hadn't been able to find in the ocean. Her aura sustained her, but it hadn't been enough, not nearly.

Even breathing normally, she couldn't find enough oxygen, and fell to her side, curling up, her aura circling tighter.

Too much. Too much was happening here. Death shrieked from all around, yet not a single being inhabited the beach. Screams filled her mind like blind, flying insects—hitting everything and each other, becoming more frantic with each touch.

Air. She needed it, needed the cold to stop. Warmth.

And yet the pain around her—not Bynums, but other creatures—and why could she hear them? Why wouldn't they stop? Where were they all, if not here next to her?

She wrapped her arms around her legs, her body a tiny ball.

Helos died long ago, and then awoke. And now, on a distant planet, in a galaxy she couldn't even name, she would die again. On this beach, hearing the manic screams of creatures she didn't understand. Why? Why had this been done?

She understood none of it, but knew that to go on, to even get up, wasn't possible.

Death.

That's all she could hope for.

Helos closed her eyes, begging the fate that comes for all to take her.

It didn't, though. Time came and went, but fate stayed at a distance. Perhaps not a far one, but its fingers never touched Helos, and eventually she opened her eyes. Still cold, but no longer shivering. The voices rang in her head, but the intensity was diminished. Dampened.

She sat up, slowly, her aura not venturing far from her. She looked at the white of her skin, the white of her aura, all of it still so new. Helos, but yet not. Helos, but now she heard screams from some distant species—sounds that she never heard before, not even with her own kind. She looked at the beach stretching out into oblivion. No structures, no plant life, just beach as far as she could see.

Yet, Morena was here, on this planet somewhere. And the screams? They stemmed from her.

Helos struggled to her feet, her legs shaking but possessing enough strength to finally hoist her up.

She was brought here because of the echoes in her head. Because her daughter had to be stopped, if those echoes weren't to expand across the universe.

* * *

M
ore were born
every few hours, their capsules opening from the top and their bodies freed to the world. Bynums rooting from the white strands that had already wreaked so much havoc. Groups like these would continue to grow and birth as long as the strands expanded across the world.

The early ones, though, were nearing a different stage.

They were almost awake—their minds finally building to the point where they understood the world around them. Slowly, each one of them—at different times, but all within minutes of each other—started functioning at the level they were supposed to.

The strands beneath their feet communicated to them what they needed to know about their mother, about the one who helped evolve them—Junior—and about their place in this world.

The first group of Bynums recognized from the moment they awoke that this world meant to kill them. That even as they stood here amongst each other in peace, their Var was at war, and her first born was fighting it. This planet hated them and their kind, wanted to kill them all.

Peace lined their DNA, and as this knowledge passed through them—one by one—a physical reaction occurred. Their auras spread, high, low, and flowed out like an animal puffing up its body to scare predators. The reaction was automatic, something built out of fear, out of a need to protect themselves.

Protection.

They needed it.

Their mother needed it.

Their entire species needed it.

Just as fear ran through their body, a deep anger spread next, slowly overtaking the fear—and as it did, their auras retreated, wrapping around their bodies like armor.

War had come to all Bynums, and the first group alive prepared to fight.

* * *

T
his is a long fucking walk
.

Will stood in the middle of a small circle, with a perimeter of about five feet. He looked back at the path he had taken, but nothing remained of it. Nothing as far as he could see. This growth was resilient and fast. Nearly as soon as he and his suit of cold passed through them, they began growing again—spreading back over their lost space.

Will was thirsty. Hunger hadn't yet crept up on him, but he knew it would soon. He had supplies in his backpack but wasn't ready to start on them yet. Too many miles lay ahead.

Yet, at this pace, he would never make it to Grayson. The GPS in his backpack told him he was in North Carolina, and to make it down into Georgia would take at least a couple more days. Which he didn't know if they had, nor did he know any way to find out.

He and Knox hadn't thought this shit out at all. They simply saw the boogeyman in the cage next to Will and let Will loose, hoping that somehow he could get all the lights turned on in the house so that the boogeyman would disappear. Will made his choice to come down here, and was fine with it, but now he hated himself for rushing. Because what was he going to do? Keep walking in this endless white desert, hoping his water didn't run out?

He looked through the plastic helmet at the west horizon, seeing the sun going down. Luckily, he wouldn't have anything to trip over in the night, as the strands had created a mostly even platform.

"There's got to be a better way," he said, though that way remained hidden.

"Will." The voice filled up both his ears and helmet.

He jumped, his feet moving close to the circle's edge before he gained control of himself. The holes on either side of his suit were already dumping out ice slush.

"Will, it's me—Knox." And the voice
was
Knox's, somehow directly in his helmet. "You there? You have to be; I'd know if you were dead."

"What the fuck is going on?" Will said, taking a step back toward the center of his cleared circle.

"The suit, it's connected to us in the bunker. We set up comms in them."

"Christ, one more thing we forgot to discuss?"

"I suppose so," Knox said, "but there isn't time to worry about it. Where are you?"

"You can't track me with the suit?"

"There's no time, Will. Just give me some answers."

"About ten miles into North Carolina," Will said.

No noise came through the helmet for a few seconds.

"I know," Will said. "It's going to take too long."

"Yeah, it is."

"You can't bring a car through this; it'll latch onto the wheels the first chance it gets, and take the whole thing under. Unless you have a chopper that can come pick me up, I'm not sure what else to do," Will said. A few more seconds passed in silence, Knox clearly thinking about what to do because he had hoped Will made more progress. "Why did you call?" Will asked after a few seconds.

"Marks is out, and in near complete control."

"What's he doing?"

Knox sighed before talking. "He's got an idea, and I think it might work. He wants to infect the white strands with a virus, basically one that will freeze them, and thus kill them. Only, once he backs it up into Grayson, I imagine his tune is going to change, and by then, no one will be able to
not
listen to him."

Will fell silent, letting the words wash over his mind like cyanide.

"I think they're going to start it first thing in the morning, if not sooner. It just depends when the scientists can fully understand what he's telling them to do. And the west, it's not even a battle. Every country in the world it seems like is bombing America, and not a single bomb is stopping that thing out there."

Will heard the defeat underpinning his words.

He had called, though.

He hadn't given up. And hell, Will was down here in the midst of this.

"It can't be over," he said, maybe to himself, maybe to Knox.

"I'm going to get you a chopper. I don't know how yet, but I'm going to get it to you," Knox said. "Keep walking, and I'll let you know when it's on the way."

Will waited a few more seconds. No click. No 'over', just the dead silence of him and the empty space all around. Knox was gone and Will alone again.

He looked down at his feet and started walking, the strands falling back from the tiny defense his suit created around him.

* * *

N
o one left the bunker
, for any reason. Kenneth Marks was in charge of the operation, but apparently the rule about leaving was handed down from God. Kenneth Marks would have challenged it and won if this all had been about gaining or showing power. It wasn't though—far from it. He would stay in the bunker as long as necessary, except he would be the one deciding what
necessary
meant.

They brought the scientists to him, from all over the world. They shuttled them across the globe at the fastest speeds possible, because they believed Kenneth Marks would be their savior. And, he would be. For a time.

Four scientists, five if you included the American, though she wasn't on the same level as the foreigners.

"Hi, everyone," Kenneth Marks said. "I hope the flights weren't too awful, though I imagine you had the planes all to yourselves. Everyone fluent in English?"

All confirmed, either through nods or a simple yes.

"Great, that'll make this a lot easier. Behind you is your laboratory. I've walked through it, and though I'm not nearly as smart as you five, it appears to have everything you'll need. You've been briefed on what we're about to do?"

Another round of confirmations.

"What we need to do first then is to make sure you all understand the compounds we're creating. There are similar ones in existence already, but this has to be specific." He pulled the small piece of plastic from his pocket. It still contained the white strands, though dead now, cut off from their heat source for far too long. The small bulb was no longer filled with any color, but one could look straight through it. "We're going to dissect this, and create our compound based on what will kill it."

"Everyone ready?"

More confirmations.