Prodigal (64 page)

Read Prodigal Online

Authors: Marc D. Giller

BOOK: Prodigal

10.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

Behind her, Nathan stood in awe.

“So the rumors were true,” he said.

“They couldn’t do it justice,” Lea replied. “The things I saw her do—you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Any chance of bringing her back?”

Lea turned away from the Tank—away from her past, toward a very uncertain future.

“We could spend a lifetime finding out.”

Nathan looked at the interface chair.

“I already have,” he said, and hobbled over to the medieval device. He slid onto the chair and settled in. “Anybody ever try it?”

“Once.”

“What happened?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Nathan drew a deep breath, then closed his eyes.

“I’m dying, Lea,” he said. “What could it hurt?”

Lea couldn’t think of a thing.

Dusk came early to the Aleutians, the island chain protruding like teeth from the churning waters of the north Pacific. Lea wanted to make use of the available light, pushing the hovercraft down on the deck and increasing speed until she arrived at her destination—a lonely, barren rock that tapered into a steep crater, one of a thousand dead volcanoes in the immediate area. She checked the coordinates Avalon had given her against the ship’s global positioning system: it was an exact match. This was the place she had told Lea about, where the
Inru
would make their last stand.

Lea transmitted a simple code sequence, the last secret Avalon had shared. Almost immediately, a locator beacon fired from deep within the crater. She followed it to a level area just wide enough for landing, easing the hovercraft down. As Lea shut the engines off, she could hear the gale-force winds howling outside—blowing through the jagged rocks, carving channels like the lava from so long ago, reminding her of another island where destiny changed.

Except there, she had arrived alone. Here, people rose up to meet her—dozens of them, hidden in every corner and crevice, surrounding the hovercraft in anticipation of some great event. They had heard the signal and understood. They had nothing to fear from her.

Lea popped open the canopy and looked out upon their expectant faces. They studied her in return: the mercs, the street species, the handful of
Inru
who had survived her pogroms and now welcomed her as one of their own. Avalon’s word had prepared the way.

As she climbed down from her ship, the
Inru
flocked to her—maintaining a cautious distance, saying next to nothing, but leading her across the crater and into a shallow network of caves. There, the liquid heat of geothermal activity infused the air with steam and energy—though an even greater power lay deeper within. With each step its influence worked like a narcotic among the faithful, causing them to swoon. They ushered Lea even faster, desperate for her to experience the source for herself.

But she knew. Since Chernobyl, she had known.

And in the belly of the caverns, the true scale of the
Inru
plan revealed itself.

Up from the depths, stacked as far as Lea could see, they were
everywhere.
Hundreds of extraction tanks formed a lattice of infinite complexity—a vast network of flesh and fiber, latent with a potential that had yet to be fully unleashed.

This was the future—
Avalon’s
future.

Bequeathed to Lea to protect and defend.

Lea awakened to a sound out of a dream, an insistent knocking at her door. She rolled out of bed in her apartment, oblivious of how much time had passed. Gathering her senses, she walked over to the window—if only to make sure that the world hadn’t changed again since the last time she left it. An incomplete skyline stretched out into the distance, towers obscured like dark matter under a new moon, a few scattered lights filling in the gaps of a seemingly empty space. Beneath that, flashing red and blue sirens prowled the streets in another endless caravan, lending a surreal glow to the landscape. At least while the fires still burned, the city at night had mass and substance. Now all Lea could do was hunger for the day.

The knocking came again. It wasn’t her imagination.

Lea walked over to her front door, half-expecting Eric Tiernan to be on the other side. In these hours, especially, it was easy to forget—a fantasy she welcomed more than she should. Clearing that notion from her head, at least until she fell back asleep, she called out into the corridor.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Lea.”

The voice startled her into full consciousness. “Nathan?”

In a rush, Lea opened the door to find him standing outside. He smiled broadly, as if intimating some secret, while she just stared—looking him up and down for signs of sickness. Hours before, he had slipped into a coma while she waited beside him. Lea had expected news of his death ever since.

“Are you okay?” she stammered. “I thought you were—”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Everything is fine.”

Lea shook her head, blinking several times to make sure he was really there.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll show you,” he said, taking her into an embrace. Lea felt the urgency in the way he held her, the intensity of his emotions—and a
familiarity
that frightened and comforted her at the same time. “But first, I need you to believe.”

“Believe?” she asked, confusion trumping fear. “What’s happening, Nathan?”

“I’m not Nathan. Not anymore.”

He then drew back, allowing her to see the truth of it for herself. Trembling, Lea touched the side of his face.

“It’s me, Lea,” he said. “It’s Cray.”

M
ARC
D. G
ILLER
wrote his first science-fiction novel at the tender age of sixteen, with the certainty of fame and riches before him. When that plan didn’t work out he went to college instead, earning a bachelor of science degree in journalism from Texas A&M University.

A year in the news business only increased his fascination with making up stories for a living, so he tried a few other genres—horror, thriller, historical fiction—when a script he wrote for
Star Trek: The Next Generation
earned him a chance to pitch ideas for the show. Though none of those stories aired, he fired off a few more novels and screenplays until
Hammerjack
finally caught the attention of Bantam Spectra.

Over the years, Marc has worked as a photographer, producer, computer trainer, and even had a one-night stint as a television news reporter. For the last several years, he has been manager of information systems for a Tampa law firm.

Marc makes his home in the Tampa Bay area of Florida, where he lives with his wife, two children, and a furry golden retriever. You can visit him online at
www.hammerjack.net
.

ALSO BY MARC D. GILLER