Apocalypse Crucible (23 page)

“You’re interfering with a CIA operation, mister.”

“I don’t see it that way. Holding this city, that’s a military operation—” Goose paused—“sir.” He counted on the polite and calm yet firm manner he maintained to get under the man’s skin.

“I’m here to take care of my operation.”

“And I’m here to take care of mine.”

“My operation—”

“Doesn’t take precedence over the 75th Rangers’ peacekeeping efforts at this moment,” Goose interrupted.

“Captain Remington wouldn’t have you stand in my way like this, Sergeant.”

Goose frowned. “I don’t know that, sir.”

“I did you guys a favor by hooking your captain up with Nicolae Carpathia to get you satellite access when you needed it.”

That was something Goose hadn’t known. Remington had never revealed his sources or how he had managed to pull the feat off. Until Carpathia had provided the satellite access, Goose hadn’t been aware that Remington had known the new Romanian president drawing all the media attention with his trip to the United Nations in New York. Remington liked rubbing elbows with the upwardly mobile, people who could do things for his career. But Goose didn’t know when Remington would have gotten the chance to meet Carpathia.

“We appreciate the favor,” Goose said. “Those satellites made a difference. Saved a lot of lives. Probably would help now if we had access to them again.”

“You guys owe me,” Cody said. “
Big-time.
If I hadn’t intervened, you might have all gotten killed.” He blew out his breath in obvious disgust. “You guys sure don’t have much of a spirit of cooperation, do you?”

Goose refused to be baited. “When the situation eases up, we’ll contact the captain and get his opinion. Until then, we do things my way. The way I think Captain Remington would want them done.”

“Then let’s contact Remington.”

“The captain’s busy, and this situation—for the moment—is contained. I’ll wait for him to contact me.”

“This is insane. You’re standing in a city filled with strangers, and you pick one man out of that city—
my agent
—to take into custody?”

“Fewer and fewer strangers all the time,” Goose pointed out. “We’ll get them down to a manageable level.”

The privates guarding the door looked at each other and silently cracked up just behind the three CIA agents keeping Cody under surveillance. The Rangers stopped laughing and straightened their faces when they saw Goose had noticed them.

Cody stepped away, put his hands on his hips, and paced three long steps away like a baseball coach who couldn’t believe the call an umpire had made. Then he paced back. He put his face closer to Goose’s, drawing himself up to take advantage of the handful of inches of difference between them.

“What would you do if I just took that man, Sergeant?”

“Won’t happen.” Goose kept his voice crisp and clean. He gave no indication of the tension or curiosity he felt, and he didn’t back away from the physical intimidation game the CIA agent was trying by invading his personal space.

Goose considered his options. Icarus was supposed to meet him here at the hospital. The possibility existed that Cody and his team had already apprehended the rogue agent. If they hadn’t, though, Goose intended to make enough of a scene that Icarus would stay away. Goose had no reason to trust Icarus, but his instincts about the younger man had been good, and his gut told him now that Cody didn’t have the young agent’s best interests at heart. As a career sergeant, Goose had learned to pay attention to his instincts.

Cody eyed Goose speculatively. “What are you saying, Sergeant? Would you shoot me if I stepped into that room and tried to take that man?”

“No, sir,” Goose said. “Not without first warning you that was going to happen if you chose that course of action.” He paused, leaned forward to invade Cody’s personal space, and stared deeply into Cody’s eyes. His voice was calm and polite when he spoke. “Just so you know, sir?
This
is that warning.”

Sunshine Hills Cemetery
Outside Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 2229 Hours

The creature that stood a few feet away at the edge of Terrence Harte’s partially open grave looked like a man, but Delroy knew that image was a lie. He’d seen something of what the thing really looked like at the Pentagon. He tightened his grip on the shovel and held it before him.

Lightning flashed and stripped away some of the human characteristics the foul thing chose to wear. The pale skin turned translucent and revealed the spiderwebbing of reptilian scales beneath. The corners of the eyes and the mouth drew back, elongating until they showed snakelike characteristics. The image blurred constantly, going from human to monster between heartbeats.

For the first time, Delroy realized that he stood almost three feet deep in the hole. He was in a barely defensible position; the creature that faced him had the advantage of the high ground.

“You’re going to believe in a rock that some lazy gravedigger could have thrown into that hole just because he dug it up and didn’t want to trouble himself to carry it away?” the thing demanded.

Delroy couldn’t speak, but he felt the rock he’d uncovered sitting solid and heavy behind him. He thought he’d finished with the creature back in Washington.
But you felt it coming after you, didn’t you, Delroy? You knew it had your scent. That’s why you’ve been looking over your shoulder for days.

A grin spread across the creature’s face. A forked black tongue played over its thin lips. “Isn’t that idolatry, Chaplain Harte? Worshiping an image of anything that isn’t the God you profess to believe in?”

“Get away from me,” Delroy ordered. Fear of the thing and what it might do filled him. The fear wasn’t for himself; it was for the final resting places of his loved ones and his family. There was no telling what the creature might choose to do to the graves. He stepped back farther in the hole, straddling the rock.

The thing leaned forward and smiled again. Another flash of lightning turned the head more wedge-shaped, stripping away the false humanity and exposing long teeth. “I have to admit, you surprised me by coming here. Didn’t think you had something like this in you. Thought you’d head on back to that ship once you finished your business in D.C.”

Delroy’s heart hammered frantically in his chest. When he’d last faced the thing in the Pentagon, the creature had tried to kill him. And it had been seen by a Joint Chief, the one man Delroy needed to convince of the Rapture.

“Going back to the ship could have been interesting,” the thing said. “Personally, I was looking forward to it. Your ship buddies are having a lot of problems there. The war effort—” it shrugged—“other …
things.
I would have enjoyed adding to those problems.”

“What do you want with me?” Delroy demanded. The creature’s words tore into him, making him feel even guiltier that he’d asked for and received permission from Captain Falkirk to check on his family before returning to
Wasp.
Under the circumstances, with all the disappearances around the globe and information slowly grinding through the communications channels about who remained, Falkirk had hesitated only a little before agreeing.

The thing grinned. Blue eyes glinted in the reflected flashlight beam, then lightning flashed and turned the eyes into fiery amber slits that ran up alongside its head. “What do I want? I want you to suffer, Chaplain. Then I want you to die.”

“Why?”

Coiling with a grace that was more than human, the evil being squatted down at the edge of the grave, resting on the knuckles of its left hand. Or perhaps it rested on a paw.

“Because that’s what I was sent to do,” the thing answered. “Because I exist to accomplish that.”

“Who sent you?”

The thing shook its head. “That would be telling.”

“You’re insane.”

The thin, brittle laughter that issued from the thing’s mouth ricocheted from the nearby trees. “Sanity and insanity and every degree between are human conditions, Chaplain. I’ve never been human. I’ve never been that vulnerable or weak. Only worn the flesh and got the T-shirt.” It paused to lick its lips with the forked black tongue. “I’m evil, and I glory in being that. I love wielding fear and violence, threat and half-truths. Those are the tools of my trade.” A mocking smile framed its lips. “Tactics not totally unlike those practiced by some of the leaders of your calling.” It took a deep breath through its slitted nostrils. “And I love the chance to walk the earth again. People here are … foolish … and frail. Easy to destroy or to kill.”

Delroy noticed that the thing wore a black T-shirt and khakis. People passing this creature on the street wouldn’t give it a second look. Though it got rained on, the creature showed no signs of being wet. Water rolled off its skin and clothing without leaving anything behind, like water from a duck’s back.

“Go ahead and open the grave,” the thing suggested with a coaxing, crooked little smile. It flicked a forefinger toward the hole Delroy stood in. “That’s what you came here for, right?”

Delroy stood and held the shovel like a weapon. Back in the Pentagon, the creature had told him that all the people who had been left behind after the Rapture were only prey, meant to be hunted by it and others like it.

“Open the grave, Chaplain,” the thing taunted. “See if that God of yours saw fit to pull your son’s remains from that box and take him to heaven.”

Delroy waited. He knew he could not run. Even if the creature had been human, he could never elude it in the brush. It moved too quickly. He was too tired and there was no safe place to run.

“Or maybe when you open that box, you’re going to find your boy still there.” The thing smiled. “Wouldn’t that be something if he didn’t make it to heaven either? if he was still stranded here? Like father like son, I guess.”

“Terrence was a good man,” Delroy said, unable to restrain himself, even though he knew the creature only baited him. “He gave his life to save the lives of other members of his squad.”

“Stupid bravery is going to buy his way into heaven?”

Delroy started to speak but couldn’t.

“Even I know that a hero’s death isn’t going to guarantee you a place in heaven, Preacher. I’m familiar with the childish ideology you follow. You believe you can get to heaven by simply believing Jesus died for your sins. I’m telling you now that He was nothing more than a scared man the day the Romans hung Him on that cross. You want to know who deified Him? Hawkers. Men who chopped up that cross and sold kindling as religious objects. Just men out to make a profit.”

“You’re lying,” Delroy said. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”

The thing raised an arched eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Your son was a good man, and he was a good soldier.” The creature raised its hands. “See? Is that a lie?”

Delroy forced himself to remain calm and watchful.

“If your son was such a good man,” the thing challenged, “why are you here? Why did he have to die if he was being noble and protective of his friends? Why didn’t God simply spare him?”

Delroy couldn’t answer. He didn’t know, and that truth was too hard to speak out loud.

The thing lifted a handful of mud and let it splatter from its palm to the grave’s edge. “Dead is dead, Chaplain. Is it really better to have a dead hero for a son instead of just having a dead son? I mean, what’s the upgrade in that?”

Delroy gripped the shovel more tightly and held his tongue. He moved carefully within the hole because the mud and the rain made his footing treacherous. He wondered whether he could trust the sides of the hole to hold his weight if he attempted to scramble out.

“Go ahead,” the thing challenged with a mocking grin and a tone that invited mean-spirited playfulness. “Open the box and let’s see what’s inside. I’m interested. Really.”

“No,” Delroy answered.

The thing opened its hand and let the remainder of the mud fall from its grip. Nothing remained behind to stain its flesh. “You’re pathetic.” It scowled. “You come here, desert your post in the greatest time of need the crew has ever seen, and you wimp out on testing your faith.”

Delroy waited.

Sighing, the creature said, “Maybe I should have waited. Maybe you would have convinced yourself to keep digging without any help from me.”