The Revered (The Earth Epsilon Wars, Book 3) Page 3

Dan shrugged. “Well, like I said, apparently not this one.”

  Ally dropped her head and blew out a tired sigh. “Does this one look like him too?”

  There was a beat of hesitation before Dan responded. “Yeah. I’m afraid so.”

  “Where is it?”

  “We strung it up over the garbage pit. You want me to kill it?”

  “No, I want to see it first.”

  Three

  Matt was marched down a narrow corridor to a small area that housed a holding cell. The cell looked more like a cross between a rusted birdcage and an Iron Maiden. It was barely high enough for a man to stand, and barely wide enough for a man to sit. He shuffled along awkwardly, the heavy restraining bolts hampering his wrists and ankles.

  From behind, Dan held his chains like a dog leash, keeping a safe distance. Trey and Jensen kept their assault rifles trained on Matt’s head as they walked alongside him, fingers curled snuggly around their triggers.

  Jensen was a thick-boned bruiser with round eyes and a barreled chest. He probably played Linebacker in another life. Trey on the other hand was blessed with a slender, more athletic build. And while he looked like he’d just wandered off the farm in Nebraska, all wide-eyed and baby-faced, he was a ruthless, stone-cold killer.

  “What are you gonna do to me?” Matt asked.

  “Something bad if you open that mouth again,” Dan growled.

  As they steered Matt towards an open cell, Ally cut them off. “Hold up.”

  The caravan of chains halted. Matt was abruptly swung around to face Ally. When he saw his daughter, his eyes began to well. “…Ally… please…”

  Ally saw the pain in his bleary eyes, and it made her feel uncomfortable. Her encounter with the previous Infiltrator did too. She mentally suppressed it and flicked her gaze to Jensen, giving him a tiny nod.

  Jensen swung the stock of his rifle into Matt’s side with the velocity of a wrecking ball. The blow thudded against his rib cage, causing him to buckle over with a sharp wheeze. Before he could recover, he was wrenched upright again and pinned against the wall. They were not going to give him the luxury of collapsing to his knees.

  Coolly, Ally took a step forward, her eyes now hard as stone. “You will only speak when ordered to. Do you understand?”

  Matt nodded feverishly between violent gasps of air.

  Ally looked down at the Wraith dagger they had found on him and gently ran her thumb along the indent of its curved blade, careful not to venture too close to the serrated edge. Wraith steel could not only cut through bone with little resistance, it was also tempered with weaponized molecular properties that could inflict horrific long-term effects on the tiniest of wounds if not adequately treated. “Again, what were you doing out there?”

  With an expression of pure exhaustion and defeat, Matt sucked down another breath before responding. “Cromwell… Cromwell sent me here… from the year 2019.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit! Dan scoffed. “You lie to her again; I’ll make sure you die slowly.”

  Ally took the dagger and lifted the collar fold of Matt’s weathered jacket with its tip, pushing it aside to reveal a thin sliver of blood seeping through his t-shirt. Her eyes narrowed to a frown as she pulled the shirt collar down to reveal a neatly bandaged wound. Matt clenched his teeth from the pain as she did so. “How did you get this?”

  “An Infiltrator…” Matt said, his expression darkening. “She… it stabbed me clean through my shoulder…” He met her eyes before proceeding. “The Infiltrator… it looked like my wife, Karen… your mother, Ally.” Matt caught the flash of hesitation ripple across his daughter’s face before she looked away to Dan.

  Dan saw her faltered expression. “Ally, you know it’s lying, right? This is what they do.”

  “A word,” she said, before turning and swiftly marching out of the room.

  Dan wheeled to Jensen and Trey. “This thing moves an inch, kill it.”

  “Gladly,” Jensen replied, keeping his rifle level with Matt’s head.

  Dan followed her out into another small area that led into a larger sorting room. Other militia fighters brushed past them, hauling canvas bags filled with salvaged junk. Some of them looked gaunt and ill from a life of scavenging. Nevertheless, everything down here continued to operate like a well-oiled machine. It had to. They were still fighting a war. In the sorting room, dozens of people could be seen working at tables, sifting through the trash and debris brought in from the wastelands above. The women and children wore gloves and masks to protect them from any metal poisoning, while the men fed the sorted materials into shopping trolleys before wheeling them away, their rickety wheels squeaking over the muted din of idle chatter.

  “What do you think?” Ally asked, her arms folded into a tight knot.

  Dan snickered dismissively. “What do I think? I think we either send it to Wainwright, or we drop it into a trash pit with a grenade tapped to its fucking mouth.”

  Ally’s expression was troubled. If only it were that easy. Usually, it was, but not this time. This time something felt amiss. Her face contorted more, unable to accept what her heart was telling her. They were only vague whispers inside her mind, but they were loud enough to give her pause. “Did you see the bandage it had across its wound?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Dan, Infiltrators don’t bleed red. They bleed black. That’s a byproduct of their hemoglobin abnormalities.”

  “Maybe this one is different.”

  “That’s exactly my point,” Ally huffed with frustration. “The bandage on that wound was also clean. When was the last time you saw a clean field bandage like that? When was the last time you saw clothes like that?”

  “Ally, come on, it’s chipped. It has a shard. I’m sorry, but that’s a done deal as far as I’m concerned. The Wraith only chip their assets.”

  “Pike and his crew scanned its shard after they brought it in, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it came up dead. Nothing. No signal. I’m telling you, for whatever reason, this one has wandered off the reservation.”

  “Maybe it was meant to. Maybe it has some kinda new stealth tech on it.” Dan could see she wasn’t buying either of those theories. “Ally, surely you don’t think this thing is your father. You told me he died.”

  After a moment of silence, Ally looked up at him. Her eyes were restrained, but they held a heavy sadness. Inside, however, the doubt was refusing to stop tugging at her. She would have to fight it. “My father did die. A long time ago.” Before Dan could respond, she turned and walked back into the room.

  Matt wearily kept his head up, watching his daughter approach again. His eyes desperately searched for the hint of doubt he spotted only moments ago, but there was nothing now. Her face was a cold and featureless mask.

  Ally stood there; arms still folded as she studied the shackled man before her with a distant curiosity. Like the last Infiltrator Cromwell had sent her, his face was strong and tireless, just how she remembered it as a little girl. He was handsome too, but there was something more seasoned about this one. It went beyond age and the crow’s feet that were etched into each corner of his eyes. It was as if there was a darker understanding of this world coiled deep inside him. It felt authentic. It felt real. Most of all, it felt human. Ally also recognized the residual effects of war whenever she saw them. Whoever, or whatever this being was, it knew war and the pain of loss that accompanied it. As much as she hated to admit it, there were some things the Wraith could not properly counterfeit yet. “Put him the cell. Tomorrow we’ll find out whether he is what he thinks he is.” And with that, she turned and left the room.

  Matt kept his gaze on her as Jensen and Trey grabbed him roughly and shoved him into the cell, closing it with a heavy clang. Finally, Matt could collapse into the cold and hard embrace of the cell’s concrete floor. “Can I get something to drink?” he asked.

  Before Jensen joined Trey outside, he hacked up a ball of phlegm and spat it at Matt’s f
eet. “Enjoy.”

  Four

  In the chilly darkness of her room, Ally stared vacantly at the empty spot next to her in bed. It was a sight that would take a long time to get used to and only seemed to exacerbate her sense of loneliness and isolation. She had been curled up in Liam’s pillow, sobbing for hours. Exactly how long, she did not know, nor did she care. Aside from the faint and steady thrum of distant power generators, the only sound was someone snoring further along the tunnel. But despite her exhaustion and lack of sleep, it was still enough to keep her wide awake. As she rolled onto her back, her mind continued to flood with a muddle of thoughts. Mostly of Liam, but also this mysterious Infiltrator.

  Earlier, she found some old family photos she had kept after she lost her grandparents. They had traveled with her everywhere. These sixteen photos were digitally printed hardcopies. Dog-eared and faded, they were something of a rarity, even from the time when she was a child. Both her father and mother were featured in them, and all were taken before she was born. She had carefully spread them out like a mosaic on the floor, forensically examining them for hours, trying to find a single reason to destroy the Infiltrator. She knew how cunning and efficient Cromwell was, so she needed to notice something minor - just a single cosmetic flaw or discrepancy that would confirm his termination.

  She could not find one.

  The being downstairs was identical to her father, not just on the surface, but seemingly on the inside as well. The Infiltrator they had captured prior was easy to spot. Again, it appeared identical to her father, pleaded with similar cries, but a simple flesh wound was enough to betray its inhuman origins. This one, however, looked at her with something the other did not: empathy.

  Ally jumped up and threw her jacket on. She desperately needed sleep, but she also needed to know who, or what this being was. Before she left the room, she grabbed her blaster and tucked it down the back of her combat fatigues.

  Trey was on guard duty outside Matt’s cell, ensconced in an old comic book, its pages yellow and faded. His assault rifle was propped up on some cushions by his side, resting next to a portable LED lantern. With each turn of a page, he would glance up to check on the sleeping prisoner. Suddenly, he straightened upon hearing boot-steps clacking purposefully along the corridor. When Ally appeared, he dropped the comic and stood to attention.

  “Open his cell,” she ordered.

  Trey gave her an incredulous look before proceeding to unlock the heavy chains and padlocks.

  The sudden hard clang of metal woke Matt from a troubled sleep. Sluggishly, he sat up to see a powerful flashlight beam shining directly into his face. He raised his bounded hands to shield his eyes, wondering what new ordeal he would be forced to endure at the hands of his daughter.

  “Leave us,” Ally said, keeping the flashlight aimed at him. When Trey visibly hesitated, she turned to him with an unflinching glare. He quickly got the message and left. Once gone, she lowered the flashlight and stepped closer to the open cell.

  “Are you going to kill me now?” Matt asked.

  “That depends on how you answer the next question. How did you get that shard attached to your spine?”

  “I was captured on Epsilon and sent to an enhancement facility. Not long after I arrived, Cromwell had me chipped.” Matt could see the faint glow of the nearby lantern illuminating her silhouette. Her stance was guarded. “Ally, there’s so much I need to tell you— “

  “Don’t!” she hissed with venom. “Just don’t.”

  “Listen, I now know why Cromwell sent me to you.”

  She looked away briefly before responding and clenched her jaw, her temper threatening to explode any second. “And why’s that?” she queried; her voice still devoid of any warmth.

  “He wanted you to be the one to kill me.”

  From the beat of tense silence that followed, Matt knew he had struck something inside her. Every second he was able to keep her doubts alive, was valuable time he could use to reach her. He had to find a way through her defenses and reconcile with the little girl he once knew, even if it killed him. One way or another, she would know the truth. “Listen, Ally—”

  “I said, don’t!” she snapped furiously. “If I were you, I’d be real careful about opening that mouth again.”

  Matt ignored the threat and continued to press her. “Do you remember the last thing I said to you before I left?” Her silenced glare indicated that she did. “I said that I would always love you - today, tomorrow, and forever. You remember that. I know you do.”

  Ally could feel her eyes starting to soften. Tears were brewing inside her. She had to resist the lure of his words. “I also remember you telling me that whatever happened in the future, I should not be afraid. Well, I was afraid. I was very afraid. I have been ever since I heard those words.”

  “Ally, how could I have known what Cromwell was planning? No one could. Not even the USC knew.”

  She was done with this little stroll down memory lane. “I’m going to run a test on you. If you pass, I’m going to throw you into a cage with the Afflicted. If for whatever reason, they don’t try to kill you, I’ll grant Cromwell his wish.” She abruptly turned and headed out to where Trey was standing watch. “Get him ready. We leave at dawn.”

  Five

  Still shackled, Matt was marched Frankenstein-like up through the underground facility into a hangar-type garage constructed out of corrugated iron. An array of ultra-violet lights overhead bathed everything in a neon-blue glow. Roughly the size as a school gymnasium, he immediately pegged this as a staging area for their operations. He shuffled past militia fighters who glared at him while cramming extra plasma magazines into the pouches of their ballistic vests. Some continued checking their weapons while others sifted through crates filled with combat gear.

  Nearby, a small convoy of carbon black Humvees waited for them to mount. Each one bristled with long-range antennas and armored-nano-plating. The giant pneumatic tires fitted to each vehicle were designed to resist the effects of deflation when punctured. They reminded Matt of the enormous USC ground transports he used to ride in during his tour on Epsilon. “What is this place?” he asked.

  No one answered him, but when he narrowed his eyes past the hangar, he spotted the Capitol dome rising out of the pale gloom of dawn. It sat lopsided atop a mound of calcified rubble, and the dome itself was cracked like a chicken egg on one side, partially exposing the faded remains of the Apotheosis of Washington. But before he could dwell too long on what he was seeing, he was thrown into the back of the lead Humvee and strapped in tight.

  Now fully masked, Ally and Dan hopped in the front, with Jensen and Trey riding in the back. As they pulled out of the garage, three armored pick-ups trailed closely behind. These militia fighters wore exo-body armor while they manned gimbaled plasma cannons attached to the back of each truck.

  Trey and Jensen sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Matt, both men cradling their assault rifles between their legs. A ribbon of sunlight that crossed Matt’s face caused him to look out the window-slit on his right-side and take in the view.

  The scrub-ridden asphalt they were traveling on was once a major avenue, and although the landscape was vaguely recognizable, any prestige it once held had long since been eroded. Some of the Federalist buildings were still there, but their luster had been scoured away from the grime that now blanketed this city. The beams of sunlight that did manage to penetrate the clouds above, also made everything on the surface appear bleached-out and over-exposed.

  “Having fun yet?” Dan asked while driving, hoping to get a rise out of Matt.

  “Hate these fucking sardine cans,” Matt replied. “Feels like I’m back on Epsilon.”

  Dan snickered. “Does Cromwell tell you to say this bullshit, or is it already programmed into you?” When Matt did not respond, he turned to Ally with a smirk and shook his head. “Fucking Infiltrators, man.”

  Ally did not acknowledge his gesture. She leaned over and swiped the comms unit attach
ed to the dashboard. “Rear, how’re we looking?”

  A female voice crackled through the hiss of static. “Clear at this end. No activity.” It was the rear gunner from the very last truck in the convoy.

  Ally looked out her window at the broken city zipping by, anxious and tense, wanting this day to already be over. Bruised clouds churned above them in their perpetual restlessness - a daily sight she had long since grown used to. Yet, she could feel her unease growing by the minute. The thought of losing her partner yesterday, along with the trickle of sweat that started rolling down her face, only helped to exacerbate her unease. She could also hear her heart pounding through her chest. For a second, she wondered if the others could hear it too.

  Call it parental intuition, perhaps even a soldier’s one, Matt also sensed her unease. If this was an active war zone they were traveling through, that probably meant they were entering enemy territory without an adequate field of view. That would make any soldier jittery. Of course, the real question was, which enemy? In this future, there seemed to be no shortage to choose from.

  “They promised us this road would be clear,” Dan said, his eyes glued ahead. “Looks like they’re keeping their word.”

  “Who is?” Matt asked.

  Jensen turned to Matt with a stern look. “Did anyone ask you to—”

  “Another group,” Ally said, cutting Jensen’s remark down before it had a chance to land.

  “Another militia?”

  After a moment, she answered him. “They call themselves the Renewal.”

  Dan gritted his jaw while driving. He was not thrilled with the idea of divulging this information so openly to their prisoner.

  “They’ll never let us pass through here without trying to strike a blow,” Trey grunted from the back. “As a matter of pride if nothing else.”

  Ally shook her head dismissively. “Not if they think we have fresh cargo. They value that over anything else. They need our product.”