Matt Archer: Redemption (30 page)

“We’ve spoken with top people at the National Park Service,” Uncle Mike said. “Captain Tannen has some items everyone needs to be aware of about Great Sand Dunes.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “There are two primary things. First, we’ll be at a high elevation. No time to adjust after being in Africa, so listen to your body. If you’re having a hard time breathing, see a medic immediately. They’re carrying oxygen. Wielders, be especially cautious.”

We all nodded. When Badass Aunt Julie went into instruction mode, no one dared to be caught napping.

“Two, the park rangers strongly advised against sending a vehicle up the dunes—they don’t allow visitors to do it, but even given the circumstances, they say it would cause more problems than it would solve. The sand is too soft and too steep. Unfortunately, we have to cross at least one dune to engage our target, so we’ll be in for a hike.”

“And when we get there?” Jorge asked. “What’s our plan?”

“We have no idea what it is. Satellite can’t get an accurate picture of it. A spy drone flew over and came back with zero readings. It’s like it’s
nothing
. Just a blank spot on the earth,” Uncle Mike said. “So, our only strategy at this point is to hit it with everything we have and pray we find the right combination.”

I pulled out my knife and laid it on the table. Its handle flashed blue. “I imagine that the second I set foot on the sand dunes, we’ll find out exactly what the shadows are.”

Because that’s what I thought they’d be—entities like the Shadow Man, infantry troops to thin out my forces before the big fight.

“Then there isn’t any more planning we can do. We’ll go now.” Uncle Mike looked at me, and his eyes were full of pain. “Chief, you’ll lead us out.”

I stood, sheathed my knife in my thigh pocket and went into the hall. Behind me, Ramirez said, “Now I am become death. And hell follows with me.”

Hooah. Hell and death, served cold to anything that kept me from my sister.

Davis waited by the main door, ready to hold it open for us. When I got there, he said, “Good luck.”

I shook his hand, not trusting myself to talk. Instead I raised my chin and, as soon as he opened the door, strode outside like a general leading his command team.

That thought turned out to be fairly accurate.

On the parade field, men stood in formation. When I passed, all of them snapped to attention—hundreds of them. Saluting
me
. An unranked soldier who’d come here only three years ago, a scrawny, scared boy. Goose bumps rose on my arms as I approached a group of men I knew.

Johnson, Lanningham and Blakeney stood next to the lead Humvee, and they saluted as well. I returned the gesture, feeling both sadness and pride. To the bitter, bitter end, the Dark Master had said. And I suspected it would be. Which of these men would be coming home? And which wouldn’t?

Blakeney held the front passenger door open. I climbed up and he shut the door and went around to take the driver’s seat. The window was open, so I rested my elbow on the door frame and leaned out to look for Will.

The early morning sun caught the silver ink of my pentagram tattoo, making it glow like metallic fire.

A dizzying sense of déjà vu hit. The vision I’d seen three years ago—of me leaning out of a Humvee with this tattoo on my wrist and fury in my eyes—combined with the present moment to leave me gasping for air.

“It’s all coming true,” I whispered to the wind. “All of it.”

I told you—you had a long way to go and it didn’t end in the jungle,
Tink said.

“No, it ends on desert sands.”

We’ll see. You have to play the cards—don’t give up now.

All I had to do was think of my sister’s tearstained face, the bruises on her arms and the raw shackle marks on her wrists to find the strength I needed. Then I thought about my mother sobbing on the kitchen floor over Brent’s dead body, and knew my rage would burn hot enough to see me through.

“Never, Tink. I’ll never give up.”

* * *

The highways, like I’d requested, were clear of vehicles. What I hadn’t expected were the people lining the side of the road holding signs, waving. Cheering.

“Incredible,” Lanningham said from the backseat. “Look at all of them. It’s like every person in Colorado is out here.”

I found it ironic, to be honest. In D.C., more than half the signs called me a psychopath, a murderer, or worse. These signs said things like “Thank you!” And “We love our Wielders!” and the obligatory “God Bless the USA!”

“It’s like a Michael Bay movie,” I said, suddenly angry about the expectations resting on my shoulders. “But this time, America and apple pie might not win the day. If it were my choice, I’d rather all of them be at home behind locked doors with every weapon they happen to have close at hand.”

“They care,” Blakeney said, quietly reproachful. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “This isn’t about their safety. It’s about yours.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whispered.

After that, we stayed quiet except for the regular radio calls between the vehicles. A hundred of them, each carrying between four and six passengers. My convey—which was what Uncle Mike had started calling it on his check-ins.

“Archer Convey, radio check,” he barked. “Blue team.”

“Blue Team accounted for, sir,” Ramirez answered, his low voice tight and grim.

This went on for three hours, the colonel calling out to Red Team (Julie), Green Team (Jorge’s command, which had been given to newly promoted Captain Nguyen), Orange Team (Johnson for Will). And White—my team, led by Uncle Mike himself. Each of us had fifteen to twenty trucks assigned to us. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point each time the radio crackled thinking about the number of souls I’d be responsible for today.

“We’ll be at the park entrance in a few minutes, sir,” Lanningham said.

It took me a moment to realize he meant me. “Okay.”

Blakeney reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “We’re gonna be right there, Archer. Ain’t anything you can say to change that. Me and Lanningham won’t leave you today.”

In spite of myself, I smiled. “Never doubted it for a second.”

“Good,” Lanningham said. “Because you’re acting like a man headed to his death, and we won’t let that happen. Understand?”

I did, but they couldn’t control that piece of the battle. The Dark Master had something in store for me, and it likely wasn’t anything we could defend against. Still, they needed hope as much as I needed purpose. “Understood, sir. And thank you both. Outside of Will, I can’t imagine anybody else I’d want with me out there.”

“We told Captain Johnson you’d want Cruessan nearby, so Orange will be with us,” Blakeney said. “That eased the colonel’s mind some. I think he was worried about splitting his time between watching you and Captain Tannen, while managing the artillery assault on top of it. Knowing Captain Johnson and Cruessan will be close seemed to settle him down.”

It was good to know I wasn’t the only one wound tight. “Good thinking.”

“We try,” Lanningham said. “Now, get your game face on. We’re at the gate.”

In the distance, the sand dunes loomed. From here, they were so tall they almost blocked the shadowed cloud behind them. Almost.

* * *

The Park’s director and the head of the National Guard unit stationed there met us at the service road that ran to the foot of the dunes. In the stark afternoon sun, the sand shimmered a light beige in the distance. The weather was chilly, about forty degrees, but the sand made it seem warmer.

“We’re making an exception,” the director was saying. “You can take the ranger track as far in as your vehicles will go. It won’t be nearly far enough because not even Humvees can take that sand, but it’s the best we can offer.”

“Thank you,” Uncle Mike said. “Any changes in temperature, wind or anything because of the entity?”

The man shuddered. “Entity. It’s alive, isn’t it?”

Uncle Mike nodded. “Seen anything that might help?”

“No, sir. Other than capturing the helicopter, it hasn’t moved,” the National Guard major told us. “Temperature has stayed stable, and it hasn’t changed position or grown. It’s sitting at the top of the dunes. Like it’s waiting.”

Everyone looked at me. I rolled my eyes. You’d think they’d stop doing that at some point. “Major, it’d be a good idea to station your men here, at the foot of the dunes. You’ll be the last line of defense.”

He grimaced. “Mr. Archer, if they pass you by, there won’t be much we can do. But trust me when I say we’ll try everything to stop them here.”

“Good enough.” I turned to Uncle Mike. “I want to talk to the wielders.”

We walked back to the Humvee. It seemed impossible evil would even come here, where we were surrounded by gorgeous scenery. The Sangre de Cristo mountains, lined with fir and cedar, made a regal backdrop, at least where they weren’t blotted out by the shadow. Medano Creek—where we’d cross to access the dunes—was dry, as the snow at the higher elevations wasn’t melting to provide runoff. The sky, too, was a perfect autumn blue.

Perverse to have a fight on a day, and in a place, this beautiful. I kind of thought the Dark Master wanted it that way. To show that he was stronger, he’d destroy it all on live television. Fear was a powerful tool, and he knew how to wield it as well as I wielded my knife.

The others met me at the back of my Humvee. Jorge looked impassive, but his eyes glittered with power. Julie and Ramirez wore matching grim, badass expressions. Will was about as stoic as I’d ever seen. If this was a poker game, nothing would have shown on his face. I wondered how they saw me. A strange calm had filled me as soon as I got out of the vehicle. I knew it was Tink, doing her best to keep me steady, but what did the others see?

Aware of the hundreds of eyes watching this meeting, I turned so no one could read my lips. I didn’t want anyone worrying that I didn’t have some grand speech prepared. Instead, all I said was, “This is it.”

Jorge stuck out his hand, and I shook it. Ramirez did the same. Aunt Julie dropped the hardass bit long enough to give me a hug and kiss my cheek.

And then there was Will. He watched me close, then leaned in to whisper, “We’ll do whatever we have to. Mamie’s worth it.”

I nodded and clasped his shoulder. “She always has been. Now,” I said, raising my voice enough for the soldiers close by to hear, “Let’s go hunt some monsters!”

“Hooah!” Ramirez shouted, startling Aunt Julie, who laughed.

This was a good way to start.

The colonel came over. “Ready?”

“Yes,” I said. “Here’s how this works. The wielders and their direct support staff go in at the vanguard. Station the rest of the team to the left or right flanks. Pump as much artillery into the cloud as you want to start with, but once we’re downrange, stop.”

He cocked his head. “You’re thinking knife work only? On a cloud the size of two city blocks?”

“A cloud that ate a helicopter and a couple of sidewinders. Unless you have spirit-bound shells, I don’t think anything but the knives will work—not even air support. Your team is a distraction. Showmanship.” I smirked—I’m sure it looked like a gravedigger’s smile. “If he can do it, so can we.”

“Then it’s show time,” Uncle Mike said. “Load up.”

“Hooah!” I shouted. Everyone in hearing distance answered in kind.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Humvees raced forward, throwing up clouds of sand. The pulsing darkness roiled like storm clouds up ahead. Like I’d expected, the second my Humvee crossed Medano Creek, the shadows had gathered together more tightly and started converging our direction.

Uncle Mike came over the radio. “That’s the last of it. We’ve stopped firing. It’s your turn.”

I pressed the button on my earpiece. “Understood. Wielders, we’re up.”

“May your blades cut deep,” Jorge said, from his Humvee.

“Planning on it,” Julie answered.

I unsheathed my knife, took a deep breath, then leaned my arm on the window sill. If this vision was going to come true, I was going to own it. I rose up in my seat so I could stick my head all the way out of my window and turned to face the vehicles following my own. As I did it, I let every ounce of anger I had show on my face. Will’s Humvee, driven by Johnson himself, flashed its brights at us.

Screeches and cackles filled the air. I slid back into my seat. We were getting close enough to see shapes in the shadows. Deformed things, like what you’d expect living in slime beneath a moss-covered rock, monsters of every shape and size. Every so often, I saw something worse—beings that could only be described as angels. Their skin was charcoal, their wings jet black, and their faces so beautiful, my throat constricted every time I looked at them. They carried dark swords, one in each hand, and ran with preternatural grace. One in particular, a female that looked a little like Ella’s photo-negative, held me in thrall until Lanningham smacked the back of my head.

“Don’t stare at them too long,” he barked. “Blakeney, put that out on the radio. Don’t look directly into the cloud. Focus on the rocks behind it until we hit the staging area.”

I blinked and shuddered, and the knife sent a sharp zing up my arm, setting my teeth on edge.

We fight soon,
Tink hissed.
To the death.

Her magic swelled inside me until the world went crystal clear with blinding light. I shook with the power of it, hoping I could keep her contained until the right moment. “Hold that thought. We’re almost there.”

The Humvee lurched and skidded across the loose sand. Blakeney’s arms were so tight on the steering wheel, the cords of his forearms stood out. “We can’t go much farther, sir. No traction.”

“Stop here,” I said. “Tell everyone to get ready to run in hard. We won’t have to go far—they’re coming to us.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Lanningham said. He engaged the radio. “Archer Convoy, Archer Convoy. Direct command from Archer actual: deploy on foot. Go in heavy.”

I didn’t have time to ask him what “Archer actual” meant because the second I flung open my door, the dark host exploded into motion.