Nemesis: Book Five (4 page)

"
T
here aren't
a lot of options."

Knox watched as the new President leaned back in his chair. Probably not the one he was used to. Knox doubted anyone had time to gather the chairs from his office and bring them down here before the lava poured down on his furniture.

"The last plane we sent in dropped from the sky, and clearly bombs don't have an effect," Knox said.

This President was quieter, different than the now deceased President Hayley.

"Troops?" Trone said. Albert Trone. What a name.

"You know what happened the last time, right?"

Trone nodded.

"But the ice, that was working, right?"

Knox nodded. Worked great until the fucking bitch decided to create a traveling volcano. Now, all those men lay under layers of the white cake—if anything remained at all, if the molten core hadn't melted their very teeth.

"Well, that's where we have to go. We have to figure out a way to use more cold."

"And what if she brings more of that lava up?"

"If she brings up anymore, I don't think we'll have to worry about her. The core isn't inexhaustible."

"True," Knox said, looking away as he thought.

The problem wasn't that he didn't want men to die. He knew they would die. War's only creation was death, nothing else, and he understood that as well as any man to ever live. The problem was, he didn't want to send them to certain death.

"What other choice do I have?" he whispered, not realizing he spoke aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing," Knox said, snapping his attention back. "We can use ice, but it's going to be tough. It's not winter in Georgia, and if we drop it from a plane, it's going to be water by the time it lands."

The Vice President (
President, he's the President now
) nodded and kept staring directly at Knox.

"Then we send troops in, just like we did before, but more of them. The entire military."

Knox nodded, knowing that was the only thing they could do.

"We'll have help," Trone said. "I'm about to be on a call with basically the entire UN. We'll have unlimited men once they understand what's happening."

"Are they going to believe us, about the ice?"

"If they don't, they'll find out soon when they try some of the things we already have."

"We're going to allow foreign armies on our soil?" Knox said. It was unheard of, a tactic that third world countries used.

"There aren't a lot of options," Trone said, repeating Knox's words.

More truth. Foreign armies on American soil beat annihilation. And that's what they were dealing with here. Not a human war, not we install a government when we bomb your place to rubble. This was it. The Final Solution, only instead of Hitler's focused genocide, this time it would encompass the entire human race.

"Yes, sir," Knox said. "I'll start making our preparations."

"Good. Other generals are flying in now, and should be here within the hour," Trone said.

Somehow this man reminded Knox of Marks. He was too calm right now, leaning back in his chair with hands folded in his lap. And Knox, the one who had been to war, seen body parts scattered around grass like Easter eggs, felt the end in the pit of his stomach.

"Sir, how are you so calm right now?" Knox said, discarding propriety.

Trone didn't say anything immediately, only held that hundred yard gaze.

"I suppose," he said, "I've been waiting for this opportunity for a while."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not a politician, General Knox. We … all have dreams, I guess. The ultimate being the seat I'm now in. The Presidency. I've prepared my whole life for this, and I don't plan on squandering the opportunity we have. We're going down in history as the men who saved the human race."

Knox nodded, unsure how to respond. Politicians … he always thought they were scum, but he understood now. The man was calm because at least part of him wanted this to happen. A part of him wanted this threat under his watch, because in the end, they all want glory. Trone had never seen war, so he couldn't understand what it meant. He hadn't seen the alien's power, so he didn't understand the threat. Instead what he saw now was opportunity, a chance for him to make his mark on history.

Knox wasn't stunned. Nothing in this affair could stun him any longer.

"Yes, sir," Knox said.

* * *

E
ven now
, Will watched Marks smile. A cage trapping him just like a rat, and yet he stared directly at Will's catatonic body with that million dollar grin.

Will had stared at Marks for the past two hours, unable to do anything else. The alien was done here, Will felt that completely; she was no longer interested in Marks, but Will couldn't regain control. So he sat and stared, and Marks stared right back at him, blinking every now and then, but otherwise still and silent.

And then, as if struck by an idea from heaven, Marks spoke.

"Can you hear me?"

Only silence answered him.

"I think you can. I think you're the same as the kids you found out there. I don't think she murders you, just kind of pushes you to the side. Is that right?"

Marks stood up, lifting his arms into the air so that his fingers nearly touched the top of the cage. He stretched for a solid five seconds and then walked forward, closer to Will.

"I have a pretty decent plan lined up, though I don't think you're going to play a part in it, unfortunately. The difference between us, Will, besides the obvious intelligence factor, is that I'm indispensable. The world will spin without you, but if I step out, as I've done now, everything will come to a halt very quickly."

He looked to the door across the room.

"They don't realize it yet, that's why I'm in here. I never liked the sitting President. He didn't understand my indispensability, and when he didn't, none of his administration could either. So I took care of two things at once; I killed Hayley, and now I get to show them that they can't live without me. I don't mean that in a hyperbolic sense; they're going to discover quite quickly that everyone on this planet will die if I'm not let out of this cage and given control."

Marks quit talking and his words hung in Will's brain like light from a dirty bulb. The light didn't reveal Marks' whole plan because dirt clouded much of it, but it revealed enough. Hayley dead? A Presidential assassination? And the man who did it stood in front of Will, grinning.

"You're going to get to watch it happen. Or at least watch me leave this cage, though I doubt you'll be able to turn your head to watch me leave this room. A free man, I'm betting within five to six hours." Marks paused, and wet his lips. "What would you like to do to me, Will? I know it's something awful. Something for Rigley, perhaps? Maybe, but I think it's more about what I plan on doing for myself."

Marks turned completely to the door. His smile vanished and he stared, looking to Will like a robot. One that was waiting, and one that would continue waiting until what it was programmed for arrived.

Marks hadn't even cared if the alien was listening; that's how sure the fucking psycho felt.

Will couldn't listen to it anymore. He couldn't rest inside his mind and listen to this madness. He would lose his own sanity hearing Marks talk as if he could stop this thing, as if the entire world would bend the knee to him.

And what if they did?

Then the world ended. No other option existed, because Marks wasn't going to walk out of this cage and try to save anyone. When he left, he would try to gain control of Morena and then the human race would cease to matter.

Will went into himself, leaving the world behind, wanting to focus on the space he had carved out mentally. The alien left him alone for the most part, not caring one way or another what he did. And now she was gone, at least partially. His body was still locked down, but he saw nothing of her inside this place. Inside his mind.

And what if he walked out of this mental room he'd created? What if the door wasn't locked? What if he just left? He sat in here because he felt some kind of worse punishment awaited if he tried to leave; he knew if he tried to face Morena in his own mind, he would lose. But now he felt nothing.

Emptiness.

The worst punishment was listening to Marks. The worst punishment was watching him walk out of this place without being able to say a word. The worst punishment was that he would die anyway, most likely listening to this madman.

Will stood up and walked to the mental door, turning the knob.

* * *

W
ill thought
Kenneth Marks resembled a robot waiting, but the truth—as Kenneth Marks saw it, and what other truth mattered?—was that he waited like a serpent. Snakes wait until they're ready and everything around them is perfect, because when they snap, it's going to be once. No more.

Kenneth Marks would snap once, and his venom would kill all opposition.

He wanted to tell Will what he planned to do, because he knew Will now. Knew him the same as he knew Rigley. A deep connection with the human race ran through Will, and was the only thing that allowed him to do the deeds he considered awful for so long. He killed creatures from this world and others, all because in the long run he thought it meant humanity could push on for another day. Will would sacrifice anyone for that goal, including himself, even if he didn't know that yet.

So to tell him Kenneth Marks' plan … well, it tasted delicious. Because Will would sit in that cage without any ability to stop Kenneth Marks. He would fume and rage and look out on a world that he could no longer affect.

Kenneth Marks wasn't lying, either. No, the world would bend their knee, and very soon.

He stared through the cage’s bars into the open room, his mind rapidly working through formulas, ideas, and scenarios. When they came for him, which they would, begging for him to drag them out of the quicksand rising to claim their mouths, he would have the solution to his problem. Not the world's problem. The world had gone on and would continue going on whether or not humanity walked across it; Kenneth Marks would have the leverage to bend this alien when the President came and asked for help.

The solution wasn't easy though. Indeed, Kenneth Marks had been thinking on it for two days now, by far the longest time he had spent on any problem. He had six hours left, at the outside, and then they would be here. He didn't feel pressure, exactly, but he knew the risk he took by killing Hayley would only work if, when they came, he had something for them. His plan would solidify his place in this worldly hierarchy. But if he didn't have anything?

Then he would meet his death. Probably sooner than the rest of the world met theirs, as well. Those were his options, the corner he put himself in. He liked it though, in all honesty, couldn't be much happier given everything around him. He wasn't scared of death; but Kenneth Marks enjoyed life too much to die, and so he stared out of the cage's tiny bars and let his brain take over.

I
s this where it ends
?
Briten thought as he looked out at Morena's creation.

He put the car in park and looked out the windshield at the continuously growing white land. Briten hadn't seen anything like it before, but understood intuitively that this was Morena, that he had nearly reached her. How far had he traveled, all in hope that he could see her again? How many years had passed; how many people had died?

All of it almost countless.

And here he was looking at what might be his death. All to see her again.

No one in the car said anything, and even the boy inside remained quiet. Briten thought they all knew what came next and he thought them all most likely more scared than he.

Briten had faith in Morena. He had to, because otherwise, he came all this distance for nothing. If she didn't come through now, he could turn around and go back to whatever life this human normally had—which really wasn't an option. Or, he walked out on the white ground before him and died as it pulled him under. So, really, either he found Morena or he died.

You're going out there, aren't you?
Michael said.

Briten didn't respond. He didn't mind the boy; the kid had something special about him, but Briten didn't have time to pay him any attention. No matter what he felt about him, this wasn't a relationship, nor anything that could ever possibly grow into one.

But, yes, Briten was going out there. He would do whatever it took to see his wife again.

He glanced up into the rearview mirror, looking at the two people in the backseat. He needed to be careful with them, because they both loved Michael deeply and neither one was stable. They didn't look at him as he studied each, but kept looking at Morena's work ahead. They would stop Briten if they could, pin Michael's body to the ground and do everything in their power to keep him from walking out into the strands they feared so much.

If they try to stop me, I'll kill them,
he said.
I don't want to and I don't have to, but if they don't let me go forward, then they die here.

He felt the boy thinking, deep in the library he built. Briten couldn't be in there and out in this world at the same time, but it really didn't matter what conclusion Michael came to. If the kid had something he wanted Briten to say to the two in the backseat, then Briten would say it if it might help keep them at bay.

Just tell them to stay in the car. Tell them it's me asking them.

Still looking back in the mirror, Briten said, "Michael wants me to tell you something."

He saw their eyes snap to the rearview, finding his immediately. "What?" the father said.

"He wants me to tell you both to stay in the car. That no matter what you see, don't get out."

"Why? What are you going to do?"

Briten could see his red eyes in the mirror, knew the sinister connotation they carried as they stared endlessly forward, and yet the boy's father didn't break eye contact. His voice didn't shake and his hands didn't quiver. Whatever happened to this man, the disgusting liquid that Briten saw a glimpse of through Michael's memories, it destroyed something that had once been strong.

Briten owed him no answer now that the message was delivered, so he opened the car door.

* * *

W
ren watched
the creature step from the car.

Michael told him to stay inside, at least that's what the creature said. Of course Wren didn't know whether it was a lie or truth, but he saw that the creature was frightened of what came next. Wren didn't need to be a genius, hell, didn't need to be sober to understand that it planned on walking out into the white mess in front of the car. Even now, the creature stood with the door open, his arms propped on it as he kept gazing forward.

It didn't want to go out there, and that meant danger waited in those white strands. Even for this thing with red eyes, it could die, and that meant Michael would die too.

Which Wren wasn't going to let happen. It didn't matter what Michael said or this red-eyed beast thought; Wren would keep Michael alive. So if it went out there, then Wren followed. Plain and simple.

"What is it?" Bryan asked from his left, the first words he spoke in hours. "It took Thera; it had to. What is it?"

"Change," the creature standing next to the car said, still not shutting the door, still not ready to venture into that change, apparently. Wren watched the thing hiding inside his son's body, moving and sounding so similar, so familiar, but not Michael at all. He was frightened, but Wren wasn’t—even with the knowledge that his son might die, his mind focused.

He said nothing, only waited for the creature to make its move, because if it tried to take his son out into that different world, Wren would stop it. He didn't know how, and understood that hurting the creature was the same as hurting his son, at least his son's body—but he would do something.

Protect him
, Linda said, and for once, they were in agreement.

* * *

C
hange
, the alien said.

Bryan knew who the alien was, even though he hadn't told anyone. Michael probably knew as well, though he couldn't communicate it to Bryan.

Morena's lost lover.

Bryan knew of him, Briten, from Bryan's time with
her
. He brought them here because he was as obsessed with her as she was with him. Bryan remembered what Morena felt about this guy, even if he hadn't been able to find out what happened with all of them. Morena would burn worlds for him, and Bryan thought Briten would do the same for her.

So he planned on going into the white, which was fine. Bryan had to go into the white as well, because Thera was in it.

The alien wasn't sure about what to do, perhaps for the first time since they started this journey. The white shit would kill him, Bryan thought, but at the same time, the alien couldn't turn around. He wouldn't. Nothing would keep him from going forward, even if he didn't know how to keep himself alive while doing it.

Go on
, Bryan thought.
Go on and get out there. She'll come. I know her; that bitch will show up and save you. She'll have to save us all, I think, if Michael is twisting your arm like I think he is. Then we all go into the white. So go on, you motherfucker.

* * *

"
C
hange
."

Briten wasn't long on words, that was for sure, and while normally Michael appreciated that, in this situation it helped nothing.

Michael wanted more time. He knew what Briten was about to do, but the more time Michael could get, the more he would know. Even now, with his father and Bryan asking questions, Michael kept reading. The books were endless though, everything this alien knew, and so when Michael said he needed time, he needed
a lot
of it.

He put the book he was currently reading in his lap, the pages staring back up at him.

"Okay, okay," he said. He didn't want to meet Morena and definitely didn't want the two of them meeting without knowing more. Yet, when he looked out of his eyes, he saw that he wasn't going to get the chance to learn anything else. Briten was simply gathering his nerve, and as soon as he did, he would pass from Earth to whatever world Morena was creating.

Michael stood up and placed the book on the chair behind him.

He needed help but no one else lived in this place. Regardless of how many people surrounded you, in the end, you have to live in your own head—alone.

But.

How long had he been alone?

Was his room at the trailer that much different than this room here?

He could open the door in the trailer and look out into reality, see his father sloshed on his chair, hear the television continuously talking. He could call Thera or Bryan and talk to them, but even that wasn't much different from being able to look out of Briten's new eyes and see the world around him—because when he shut the door to his room or hung up the phone, he had always been alone. And what did he do then? He read. He thought. He never asked for help, though.

Because it wasn't coming. Ever.

When you grow up with an alcoholic parent, and only one parent at that, you quickly realize the world forgets about kids like you. Conveniently, because it's much easier to forget than to go to a shitty trailer and check in. All the people that showed up to Michael's mother's funeral didn't show up too many more times.

"You didn't call them, either. You got through without them," he said.

So he would now.

Michael created this room even if Briten populated it with his mind, his history. If Briten ever decided to slow down for a second, he might be able to create his own room, and then Michael's mind would populate it. They both had complete access to each other, even if neither could fully utilize that access right now.

Michael certainly wasn't fully utilizing it.

He was only allowing himself to see clips of this creature's life, a life that spanned millions of years. But … more lay under the surface, the connections that allowed them to live together in Michael's brain. He had to access those connections because they might lead him to the correct book.

Michael closed his eyes, blocking out the fantastic library where books hung from the ceiling.

As he did, he saw Briten's red mass. It ebbed and flowed, looking like peace—confident despite his apprehension in reality. Michael looked at Briten's essence again, not focusing on the black still growing in its middle; that didn't matter right now. Instead, Michael went forward, feeling instinctively what he needed to do. They had to connect, the mass needed to know what Michael wanted, and in that connection, Michael's own mind would lead him to the knowledge he needed.

He didn't hesitate, but shoved his hand directly into the red, pushing up to his elbow but stopping before the black disease could reach out to him. If he touched that, it would invade him just as it had Briten. The red was what he needed, the black … that was something else.

It only took a second, the connection near instantaneous. Michael felt it, his needs flowing to the red mass, as despite the resistance each felt for the other, the underlying relationship had to be symbiotic or neither would survive. The mass took in the information, grabbing readily for it, as if it had been waiting to learn about this new creature.

Michael opened his eyes and the library appeared before him. The red mass gone, his own hand, once plunged deep into it, now resting idly at his side.

He looked around the room, hoping that it worked. Hoping that somehow he would see what he told the mass he needed, and as his eyes scanned the shelves—he found it. Twenty feet above him, lit up with the same red hue he saw a moment before.