Nemesis: Book Six (24 page)

Morena’s aura slowly snaked out to Kenneth Marks as they both looked into each other’s eyes, him feeling that same draw, an inability to break free. The aura wrapped around him, softly, caressing his skin.

Kenneth Marks opened his mouth to say ‘I’, ready to tell her what he discovered moments before—that which ensured his change.

Kenneth Marks never got the chance to speak about himself again.

His neck snapped, echoing slightly into the living room, but truly sounding like a small stick breaking. He had the chance to hear it, and then everything went dark. Forever.

* * *

T
he body dropped
in front of Morena, falling lifelessly to the floor. She was glad to be done with that
thing.

Morena walked through the living room and into the foyer, not dropping her head once, but holding it as a Var. She didn't know what comprised this creature, not fully. Perhaps The Makers themselves engineered him, but he held no title, and certainly not the blood that flowed through her own veins.

No, Morena? Did your own mother not fill that body moments ago?

Even so, she wouldn't drop her eyes. Not to someone she might kill in a second, regardless of how powerful he appeared to be.

They stood before each other, their auras dancing but not touching.

"You know?" she said.

He nodded.

His aura was already as powerful as hers in understanding the world around it. He knew the choice she faced, the reason Briten called her over.

"You know I can?" she said, neither of them needing to specify what she could do.

He nodded again.

"If I don't, if you live, what then?"

* * *

M
ichael heard
the question and understood that it was meant for the human side of him. The part that lived eighteen years in Grayson, Georgia, but now quickly assimilating to this new creature that it would only be a
part
of.

What would he do?

What was the plan, either from that void or from Helos?

The answer came to him easily and he saw the future stream out before him just as he had watched Morena's on another timeline.

"I'll leave here," he said. "This planet. You're not meant to be here and now neither am I. So I'll travel until I find somewhere empty, somewhere habitable."

"And then?" she said.

He knew what Helos wanted, perhaps what that void wanted too. All of it mixed together with his own thoughts and feelings, and yet, this new creature wasn't driven by any one of the parts that made him. He would leave this planet because he didn't belong. He understood intuitively that his life span had increased almost beyond measure, and thus he would eventually find another planet to inhabit. What would he do when he got there, though? Would he create a world as Helos wanted, a Bynimian reborn, but with this new genetic makeup? Did he want to rule …? Part of him, only a month ago, expected to make fried chicken sandwiches for the next ten years.

Now he looked at an alien with the decision to rule a species upon him. And if he said no, that he would live out this long life alone? Then he died.

"Michael …."

His father spoke from the side, his voice quiet, frightened, but unwilling to be silenced. With creatures he couldn't possibly ever understand facing off, Wren ventured to try and speak to his son, to try and connect.

Michael recognized turning to Wren at this moment might mean death, but he did anyway. Not just his head, but his full body, his aura automatically reacting, and forming a barrier between Morena and the horde now crowding both of them. He stood completely open to his father, none of his colors in the way.

"What is this?" his father said in that same low voice. He didn't glance anywhere else, though, keeping his eyes on Michael. A frail, old man without anything to protect him, yet the fear running through him didn't concern himself at all. The fear focused only on his son. "What's happening? How are you … in that body? You are, aren't you?"

"Yes," Michael said. "It's me."

"Christ Almighty," Wren said, those words even softer than the others he spoke. "We can fix this. I've thought about how, using those strands outside. We can transfer you from this body to another; we just have to get her to do it."

Tears filled Wren's eyes. Michael saw two things in them, hope and understanding. Hope that he might be able to get his son back and understanding that nothing would ever return to what it once was. The hope lay in his eyes and the understanding in the tears.

"It can't happen, dad."

"Why not? Everything else that's happened, why couldn't this?"

Tension grew behind Michael; the Bynums gathered there wanted action, and yet their leader stood next to this stranger without saying anything.

He didn't care, though, about the tension. He was thinking back to when his father found him, both he and Julie, in their shitty trailer neighborhood. His father stopped the car and ran to him, wrapping Michael in his arms. He had hugged Michael and Michael didn't have a clue how to handle it.

His father didn't know how to handle this, now. He couldn't see what Michael did.

"I have to go," he said, the words so simple, and yet he knew they would make no sense to Wren.

"No you don't, Michael. We can fix this."

His father was staring at oblivion, at a life with no one, and he couldn't see past that. He couldn't ….

Michael stopped.

Was that true? Was that why his father stood here with tears in his eyes? Scared of life? Or was it Michael's prejudices, a lifetime of anger and borderline hate dictating his father's feelings?

His mother once loved this man.

He once loved him.

"It's okay," Michael said. "It's okay, Dad."

He reached forward, putting his white hand on his father's shoulder and pulled him in. He wrapped both long arms around Wren and felt his father take hold of him as well.

"It's going to be okay," Michael said again.

"No, Michael. No. You can't leave. I need you. I'll stop. Drinking, all of it, for good. I'll stop, but you have to stay. Please."

Wren's head came to Michael's chest, buried in it, but Michael heard every word.

"I love you," Michael said. "I love you, Dad."

* * *

W
hen Michael said
those three words, Morena knew what his choice would be.

His father, without knowing it, saved his entire species. Morena didn't need to hear Michael's answer, because his aura told hers even as the two hugged.

Morena turned from the embrace, facing the crowd now watching in the foyer. She found Junior quickly, standing at the front and center. She walked to him, briefly touched his arm, and then moved outside, the others stepping out of her way.

Junior followed and Morena went across the porch and out into the yard. She kept walking, until they were clear of the rest of her children.

They stood on the white strands looking out at a world that they both somewhat understood. A world that they built together, the remnants of another place that existed long before. Dead now, though. They tried to recreate it here; they tried to live.

Morena knew she could walk back in and end Michael, probably could for a few more minutes. Yet she also knew she wasn't going to, that what she saw now was the last of Bynimian that she would ever see.

"It's over, Junior."

He didn't say anything for a while. Perhaps minutes, as they both peered far into the distance.

"Why?" he finally said.

"Because we were wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Maybe not," Morena said. "Maybe there is no wrong in this. Maybe things just are as they are."

"Then why would we stop? We're close, Var."

"She traveled the universe to tell me to stop. She came back from the dead to ask me to end the assault."

"You are Var, not her," Junior said.

"She was once the greatest Var Bynimian ever saw. If only I existed in this, I'd keep going. I don’t exist alone, though, and everyone I care about has asked for me to end it. I won't ignore them."

Another lengthy silence followed, only a light breeze creating noise between the two.

"And what of us?"

M
orena stood
with her husband to her right, and this new creature—Michael—to her left.

The three stood a hundred yards out from the hole which Morena dug in a time that felt so long ago. She dug the hole to ensure her species' survival, and now she would walk them all to their deaths.

Auras stretched out in front of her again, one final time. She had seen the same on Bynimian and she saw it again here on this planet. A deep, pervasive sadness ran through every part of her. She wasn't scared of the pain that came next; it would be brief and perhaps even a bit glorious. The sadness stemmed from the fact that all these Bynums in front of her were willingly committing suicide, simply because she commanded it. No revolt. No questions. They trusted their Var and would do as she wished.

They trusted their mother.

She reached down and grabbed Briten's left hand.

"You promise that you'll go on?" she said to the creature on her other side. "You swear to me that you'll make sure we have a home."

"Yes. If it's possible, I'll do it," the creature said. He paused a moment, Morena understanding that he had something else to say. "How ... How do I get off this planet?"

Morena smiled.

"The Makers stopped me; I trust they'll give you a jumpstart as well. If they don't, remember your promise, because this planet will work fine."

Morena stepped forward then, walking with Briten at her side. The ocean of auras in front of her parted as she reached them, each Bynum stepping away and making a path for her. The heat intensified with each step she took, her aura wrapping around Briten, protecting them both.

"Are you okay?" she said.

"Yes," he said, though the strain in his voice told something different.

The walk turned into a blur of determination and pain.

And before Morena fell to her end, her lover at her side, she thought briefly that determination and pain was a fine way to go.

* * *

F
ive hundreds yards back
, Wren watched an entire species simply drop themselves into lava.

All of this, the pain and death, only to watch the things that created it commit suicide.

Wren saw his son turn and begin walking back toward him, Bryan, and some other guy that Wren didn't know. Military, probably. Wren didn't care in the slightest, though. It was all over and Wren was done with anything to do with the military, forever.

You're done with Michael, too
, Linda said.

He didn't have a response because she was right.

Michael came to the small group, his long legs moving across the expanse easily.

The man to Wren's right stepped forward, and fear rose up in Wren. Not again, he wouldn't let anyone try to harm his son, not when all this was finished. Wren followed him, reaching forward to grab the man's arm--

"No," Michael said.

Wren stopped midway, his eyes refocusing on his son now a few feet from them both.

"Don't, Dad. It's okay. I promise."

Wren's arm fell back to his side; he didn't know what to say, had reacted before thinking.

"I'll answer whatever questions I can, but I don't know how many that'll be," Michael said, turning his attention to the other man.

"What's happening out there?" the man said.

"They're leaving in the only way they can."

"They're committing suicide? That's what you're telling me? They're all just willingly walking into that fiery pit?"

Michael nodded. Wren had never seen such calm in his son before, an ease to him that belied his age. Eighteen.

But is he eighteen anymore?
Linda asked and Wren didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know what all had changed inside Michael, only that part of him was very different.

"And what about you? What are you going to do? Just leave?"

"Yes," Michael said.