Nemesis: Book Six (3 page)

M
orena walked amongst the living
.

Though in the distance, and not far at all, she saw the dying coming for her and all those around her.

She stood on the strands, her feet relishing the life beneath her after having felt the death earlier. She let the strands communicate with her, not trying to shut them up, but allowing their pain and fear to roll through her body.

Morena saw the end result of the gray cloud sweeping down upon them all. Death, but not just death for her kind. That's what Kenneth Marks didn't understand, or if he had, he was indeed mad. The man sentenced his own kind to die, not just Bynimian. When that plague reached Grayson, it wouldn't stop at the strands. No, it would move all the way down to this planet's core, because now, the core
was
the strands. They intermixed early on, and the molten lava couldn’t exist
without
Morena's strands.

So when the plague killed her children, it killed the core.

The disease he sent forth would drop down and down and then the world would turn into a rock made of ice.

Everyone would die, not just Morena and her kind.

Did he know it, Kenneth Marks?

The gray death grew closer; Morena could see the changing color, moving from white, to ice, and then to that lifeless gray. Another mile or so and it would be where she stood—if it touched her? She would die the same as her children.

Junior was winning in spectacular fashion. But what moved in front of her said that none of his actions mattered, not how many cities he laid waste to, not how many humans he killed.

This man, this Kenneth Marks, had to be stopped. He had to understand what he was doing. Death simply to eliminate life? Insanity.

* * *

K
enneth Marks knocked
on the door. He stood, waiting, knowing that Knox would look through the peep-hole and grow angry at the sight of him.

Kenneth Marks smiled at the thought, knowing Knox would see that as well.

Finally the door opened, and Knox stood there in his fatigues, just like Kenneth Marks knew he would.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Have we dropped the sirs, now?" Kenneth Marks said.

"I no longer report to you. In fact, I'm not sure you hold any place in the United States military or government at this point. Hell, I'm not sure I'd even call you a U.S. citizen.”

“I understand. It's okay, I never liked the formalities anyway. Now we can just be ourselves, no?"

"What is it you want?" Knox said.

"Would you mind if we talked inside?"

Knox looked at him without speaking for a few seconds then finally took a step back, leaving the doorway open for Kenneth Marks.

He stepped through, taking in his surroundings quickly, the sparse accommodations the same as his own—to be expected, of course.

"Now, fast, Marks. What is it?"

Kenneth Marks turned around as Knox closed the door.

"I need to communicate with her."

"With who?" Knox said.

"The alien."

Knox laughed, moving from the door to his bed, sitting down on it. "Well, go see her," Knox said as he sat, looking back up at Kenneth Marks.

"I will, eventually, but we both know that's not a possibility yet. I'm being serious, general, and this comes from the president himself. I need to speak with her and I need you to set up telecommunications that will work."

"And how do you want me to do that?"

Kenneth Marks sighed and looked down at his feet. "Don't get in my way, General Knox. It's not wise when you think about your remaining timeline here on Earth. And before you get huffy, that's not a threat. Think about what's going on around you and think about where I stand in all of that. Front and center. The wind is at my back and if you try to slow me down, you're going to get flattened." He looked back up. "I could have the president come speak to you, but there's no time. So let go of your hate and, please, get a fucking link set up with her."

Knox stared back at him with a look that clearly wished Marks dead. It didn't matter. If Knox wouldn't toe the line, then someone else would replace him, and fast. He wasn't lying when he said the president wanted this—if for different reasons than Kenneth Marks did.

"I'm also being serious, Marks. How do you think I can do that? It's not like she has a cell phone, you understand?"

"I trust you'll figure it out. Just get me the link."

M
ichael wasn't dreaming
. He could still look out of Bryan's eyes, and though he only saw blackness from Bryan's closed eyelids right now—he could still do it. Michael could move back and forth from the desert inside to the reality outside.

So he wasn't dreaming, and he saw her again.

She no longer held a hand up to him, and now he longed for her to do so. At least then he could
wonder
what was happening. Now he saw it clearly. The creature was coming toward him. No doubt about it, she was much closer than the last time he saw her. Michael left her when he visited reality, but now he was back, and could see her feet moving. He couldn't see many details of her face, but it wouldn't be long before she was close enough for him to see her eyes.

And what then? What was he going to do when this alien stood before him, in
someone else's mind?

Why? The other pressing question. Why was she here? What did she want? Michael knew a possibility existed that she wasn't real and that his over burdened mind might be hallucinating in the only way possible. None of that felt right, though. This felt real.

Don't all hallucinations?

Maybe. He didn't know because he hadn't hallucinated before.

And all these thoughts didn't change the fact that she was getting closer.

* * *

H
elos lay
in the basement of an abandoned building. No lights shone inside, but her white aura glowed like a beautiful aurora moving through the dark sky. It filled the entire room, spreading out from her body where she lay in the center of the floor.

Her eyes were closed.

She found this place because she understood her vulnerability when going under like this. She opened herself up to attack from anyone, and while her aura would do it's best to both protect and pull her out of this state, it might be too late. So she hid and hoped that no one would find her.

She didn't know much about her location at the moment, had no real understanding of where she was in relation to Morena. None of that mattered too much at the moment though; she would find her daughter—she knew that for certain.

What Helos needed was her Knowledge; she needed it to help her understand this world and what was happening.

So she lay with her eyes closed, the dirt from the floor grinding into her skin.

She walked through the colors that her daughter struggled so much with, seeing them clearly, not fighting them as they whipped around her, intermixing with one another. She didn't struggle in this place, never had, and yet she could never truly explain to Morena how to navigate her Knowledge. Helos was able to do it, but not teach it.

She had seen Morena a few minutes before, watched her green aura both shrinking and expanding, understanding that something horrible was happening to her daughter. Helos would have stayed and studied her aura, wanted to actually—but then she saw the other and couldn't turn from it.

She didn't know what it was, only saw the color standing out from the rest—a beautiful creature in a sea of normalcy. It was the species native to this planet, she could tell that much, but different in very major ways. The auras she saw from the natives were small and nearly indistinguishable from one another, but this one…

Its aura looked like Morena's, like Helos' herself.

And yet, different from theirs too.

Three colors moving as one, and Helos was sure that they weren't separate auras. No, a deep blue, dark red, and a bright orange flowed together, all of them making up a single creature. And yet, native too.

Helos didn't know how it was possible, what she looked at. It shouldn't be. This was a crossbreed, a mixture of her kind and the kind that lived here … but genetically, something like that couldn't survive; she didn't think it could even be created.

Helos could tell that this new aura was close to Morena, just based on the proximity inside her Knowledge. Did Morena know? Did she understand what was happening with this creation?

Helos opened her eyes and saw the white wind floating softly above her. She had seen enough; she needed to move now.

* * *

B
riten stood alone
on the porch.

Being alone was his life now. He was beginning to understand that, beginning to understand that in this body, he could never be the being Morena needed next to her. She needed a warrior right now, someone like Junior. Briten couldn't even travel as she did, not unless she brought him with her.

And she hadn't this time.

No, this time she left without any announcement and Briten didn't understand why. He was alone, physically and mentally—none of the humans in the house having the capabilities to converse with him on any meaningful level.

He looked out at the yard before him. He couldn't remember what the humans called the life that once grew here, but it didn't matter—white strands spread everywhere. He could never do what Morena did with them, but it didn't mean he couldn't communicate. It didn't mean that they couldn't tell him things. This body might be a disaster, but his mind, his aura, all of that still existed.

Where had she gone, and why?

The strands could tell him.

He couldn't be there for Morena like he once was, but if the strands could tap into his aura, he could still use his mind to help her. She was rash, always had been, and Briten knew that whatever she was doing right now rested in that same vein. She needed him to slow her down. She needed him to help solve this problem, perhaps in a way that strength couldn't.

He stepped off the porch, walking down the steps and into the white strands. He undressed and left his clothes at the bottom of the stairs. The cold winter air surprised him, this body not made to withstand the elements of its own planet. Briten began shivering, but wasn't deterred. He walked forward until his feet touched the strands. He found warmth in them, as they sucked energy from the Earth's core, using it to grow. They would warm him.

He laid down so that he looked at the sky and immediately felt the strands growing over his body. They didn't burrow, didn't pierce his skin, as they knew him now. They covered him though, moving across his arms and legs, chest and neck. They left his face alone, giving their warmth to the rest of his body.

Tell me
, he said, hoping that his aura would translate through this flesh and into the strands.

They heard him. They told him what he wanted to know. They sang to him the song of their death, of the west's destruction, and Morena's own internal suffering. They told him everything as if they hoped that by simply making it known he might be able to help.

When Briten opened his eyes, looking up at the gray sky, the strands retreated. They moved away from his body and the cold replaced them, bringing goosebumps across his skin.

He stood and walked back to the house, dressing before heading inside.

And once there, he sat and started thinking. Morena needed him now, needed him more than perhaps ever before. She and all of her kind would die, and there wouldn't be a second chance. This time, when everything died, it died forever.

He had to find a way to stop it from happening.

* * *

J
unior didn't know
she was coming. No announcement nor communication.

He would have missed her had he not looked up into the sky when he did. She could have slipped into the city with the rest of his crew and he may have never noticed.

At least, until she landed. Then The Makers themselves would have noticed.

He did look up, though, away from the battle surrounding him. He looked up to see the smoke rising into the sky; he liked watching the effects of what they did on the ground floating up to the heavens.

His eyes didn't find smoke, though—or, rather, they didn't focus on the smoke.

Morena's green aura flared out like gigantic wings. It spread across the sky like a cloud, covering nearly everything, and in the middle was her body, looking so small amidst such huge power. Junior didn't know aura's could stretch to that distance.

Surely nothing more powerful had ever been born, not in this universe.

She looked like a god.

Morena moved down from the sky, her aura enveloping everything—humans, Bynums, and buildings alike. All action stopped, everyone looking at this magnificent being falling from the heavens. Even Junior didn't move, unable to pull away from Morena's glory.

And then her feet touched the ground.

Junior watched as speed he didn't know possible came alive in this world.

Morena's aura shrunk in a little, thickened, then whipped out to wrap everything around her. Large tentacles grabbed anything not of Bynimian, seizing humans and structures alike.

How many people did she have in her grasp? Junior tried to count, his eyes rapidly moving across her massive aura. A hundred? Two? He couldn't know, not so quickly, and Morena wasted no time with the ones she had. Necks snapped. Eyes popped from sockets, sticky red blood pouring down blank faces—from the pressure created by her aura . She flung some of them, not releasing their limbs as she did, and the force tore legs and arms from torsos, spreading a blooming mist of blood across the city.

Junior saw one of the bodies, the human screaming even as she flew through the air, before slamming into the side of a building. A window broke and the woman hung half in, half out. He could hear her screaming despite everything else around him. Screaming for help, for mercy, for life.

And then she slowly slid out of the window, back into the air, and fell to the ground where her screaming stopped and her body splattered.

Morena seemed to notice none of it. She turned, the tentacles grabbing new objects, new people, and ending them all with a ruthlessness that left Junior feeling both awe and fear.