Nemesis: Book Six (9 page)

Wren stood, nearly knocking the chair over as he did.

He backed away, unsure where he would go but knowing the man he saw was a killer, would kill him and Michael without hesitation.

The man brought a finger up, putting it over his mouth, and his other hand next to his face, palm out, making a stop gesture. The surprise on the man's face had died away much quicker than Wren imagined his own did.

The man shook his head slightly, and then made a come here gesture.

It's okay,
he mouthed.

Wren stopped backing up, but he didn't move forward either. He stood in between running and letting the man who nearly killed him inside the room.

The gesture again.
Come here.

Wren looked to Bryan who had sat up on the bed.

"Who is he?" Bryan said.

"No one good," Wren answered, though the words felt like he was speaking in a dream, barely in control of himself.

And then the man pushed up on the window. It opened, of course, because Wren never locked it after he'd stuck his head out earlier.

* * *

W
ill had
no idea what Wren Hems was about to do, but he saw fear eating his his face alive. Again, no time to beg the man to come to the window, no time to risk him running out the bedroom door, alerting whatever else might be in the house to Will's presence.

Blind luck and impatience, Will found the window unlocked and he pressed upward, opening it as fast as he could. A creak echoed out, but he couldn't do anything about it.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but strong. "Calm down. I'm not going to do anything. I'm here to help."

The man didn't run and Will saw a kid sitting on the bed. Bryan something or other—Will couldn't remember. The whole goddamn crew was here, apparently—and not a bit of it made any goddamn sense.

No one moved.

"I'm coming in, okay? I'm coming in and I'm not going to hurt either of you. There's a woman with me, you might have seen her here already. She's coming in too."

* * *

W
ill listened
.

He didn't speak much, just listened to the man and the teenager talk.

Their tale, the whole thing, nearly made Will's sound boring. He didn't doubt a word of it though, because all he needed to do was walk outside this room and find the three hundred pound beast that was once a hundred and seventy pound kid.

"So Michael—"

"My son. The one you kidnapped," the man, Wren, said.

Will didn't make any excuses, didn't look away. "He's inside Bryan?"

"Yes."

"And out there, the thing in Michael's body, that's Morena's husband?"

"Yes."

Will leaned back against the wall. He sat on the floor, his feet crossed in front of him. He put his head against the wall, too. Rigley sat across the room, staring out with her eyes wide. Lost, perhaps. If she heard anything going on, she gave no notice. But who was Will kidding? Rigley might not even know she
was
Rigley anymore. What sat across the room was the closest thing a functional person could get to being a vegetable, a shell.

Will was alone here, at least from a military perspective.

Wren, though, he wasn't the full-on drunk that Will nearly killed a few weeks ago. He might be able to help with what came next—though, Will knew it would be a tough thing for him to stomach. A very tough thing. What about the kid? He had been quiet much of the time they spoke, letting Wren do most of the talking. What could he do?

Things were dire, no doubt about that—but Will saw an opening here. A small one, perhaps so small that maybe even light couldn't fit through it. An opening though, nonetheless.

"What is your goal in all this, Wren?" he said, looking up at him sitting in the chair.

"To save my son."

Will nodded. Of course it was; that's why Will tried to kill him twice, because saving his son had been in direct opposition to Will's goal.

"To do that, we're going to have to capture the thing that's walking around in his body. Do you see that?" Will wasn't used to asking questions in an attempt to make people see the logic of his decisions. He gave orders and people followed them. He couldn't do that now, though. What came next, he wouldn't be able to do by himself.

"What are you going to do?" Wren asked.

Will swallowed. "It's going to sound a lot worse than it is, okay?"

* * *

W
ill closed
the door behind him, slowly. He held the doorknob, twisting it so that once the door shut, he let it go quietly, keeping the sound of the door latching from echoing down the hall.

He was alone, leaving the other three in the room. He no longer wore the astronaut suit, but had changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt he found in a dresser. The room must have been a teenager's, because the clothes fit okay—another small piece of luck, Will supposed.

He was going to need some big pieces here, though. He left the others in the room because if Will couldn't subdue this thing alone, they surely wouldn't be able to help much. Will held a knife in his hand; he wanted to bring the gun, but saw that even asking something like that meant he'd have to kill Wren before he ever had the chance at subduing this newest alien. Wren wasn't letting him bring a gun near his son's body.

If killing Wren could end this war, Will would have done it immediately. Instead, he was going to need Wren, and soon; so Will walked out of the room, ready to fight an alien only armed with a small knife.

Will walked down the hall, his eyes and mind focused in a way that most people would never know. The world turned into a single line. The periphery of that line only existed so that Will could make sure nothing got in the way of his walking the line. If he saw something about to enter, he would either adjust the line, or step out and slit whatever he saw.

The line went to the alien. A singular focus that lifted Will's mind and body above everything else in the world—above his past and future. He lost his humanity in that focus, turning into something more resembling a machine.

Will didn't know where the creature was, only that it hadn't gone outside the house again. Will crossed the foyer, moving slowly so that he could pick up everything around him. He stepped next to the wall separating the foyer from the living room, his knife held low, ready to jut up into someone's gut if necessary. If that happened, though, things were going to get even worse for humanity, and pretty fucking quick. He needed this thing alive.

He moved his head around the corner of the wall and looked into the living room.

The thing lay on the couch, its eyes open and staring up at the ceiling.

Will had hoped—the last refuge of the dying—that the creature would be sleeping. That he could simply give it a quick tap with the butt of his knife and all of this be done.

How quick was it? Clearly the strength edge lay with it, based on the size of the thing's muscles alone. Will needed speed and luck, or else … he would die.

Will glanced around the room. He saw nothing that would help him, and nothing that would hinder him, either. He did have the advantage of already being on his feet; the creature would have to rise in order to fight back.

So getting across the room to the couch, without waking the thing, was imperative.

Will took a deep breath, letting it slowly out of his mouth.

Then he moved. His legs launched into action and he crossed the room in three leaps; shock dawned on the creature's face, red eyes looking at him—no shock registering in them, though. What Will saw in those eyes nearly froze him, ending his life before he had any chance to attack. He saw rage in them, a twisted yet righteous belief. An almost unreal self-confidence.

He didn't slow, though—his body acting as Rigley's had outside, ignoring the wonder in his mind and doing as it was trained.

The creature rose, fast, faster than anything Will had ever seen in his life. One second it lay on the couch and the next it towered over Will like some giant in a fairy tale.

Will ducked, knowing instinctively that the thing would go for his head, and when he did, he brought the knife's butt down on its kneecap. The thing made no sound, but dropped slightly, both hands going to what Will hoped was a cracked knee.

Will stood back up, the knife flashing through the air, the butt again connecting but this time on its temple. He hit it with all the force of his body, leaning in like a tennis player with a racket.

It should have dropped. The creature should have fallen flat on the ground, perhaps breaking the goddamn table in front of the couch as it did.

Instead, its head whipped to the side, but that was it. Will flashed the knife forward again, certain that this connect would lay it low. Instead, his arm stopped halfway through its downward motion. The thing's left hand had grabbed him. Pain shot through Will's arm, his eyes flashing to his wrist where the creature squeezed down with force Will couldn't comprehend.

His bones were bending, and they'd break soon. The thing continued rising from the couch, its right hand moving away from its knee. Will understood once it reached full height, he was done. Will's left hand darted forward with almost the same force of his right. Open palmed, he smashed into the creature's nose, blood flooding out like water from a releasing dam.

The creature didn't stop moving upward though, rising like the sun—slow but with no thought of stopping.

Again Will's hand move forward, hammering the creature's throat.

It stumbled back, its left hand going to its Adam's apple. The pain in Will's right arm abated a bit, and Will twisted his arm, breaking the thing's grip. He didn't slow for a second, but brought the knife's butt down twice in rapid succession on the alien's temple.

It collapsed, falling backward on the couch, and then sliding slowly to the floor. Its eyes were closed.

Will bent over, his hands on his knees, wind heaving in and out of his lungs. He tried to swallow, but found no saliva in his mouth.

And that was the easy part
, he thought.

* * *

M
ichael looked
out of Bryan's eyes as the three of them worked.