The Last Survivor (A Wilde/Chase Short Story) (13 page)

The lead agent snapped his light at Cross’s face. ‘I don’t want to hear one more goddamn Bible quote out of you, okay? This whole situation has gotten way out of control.’

‘I know what we have to do. We have to take the angel out of here.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Rosemont protested. ‘It killed Gabe, it killed Kerim and all his men! We’re not taking it anywhere.’

‘Putting it in water stops the smoke. If we find a container, we can transport it—’

‘Water, huh?’ Rosemont jumped into the crater. Before Cross could intervene, he had hauled the remains of the angel from the ground. The toxic gas swirled around him as he stomped back out of the pit, heading to the lake’s edge.

‘What are you doing?’ Cross demanded as he followed.

‘Making this safe.’ He drew back his arm – and hurled the statue out into the water.

‘No!’ yelled Cross, but it was too late. The broken figure spun through the air, a poisonous vortex spiralling in its wake, before it splashed down some sixty feet from the shoreline. Both men stared at the water until the ripples subsided.

Rosemont turned back to Cross. ‘Right. Now we radio in and—’

He froze. Cross had raised his gun and was pointing it at his chest. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said the Virginian in a voice that, while level, was straining with anger. ‘You’ve just interfered with God’s plan.’

‘God’s plan?’ said Rosemont, trying to control his fear. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The Day of Judgement. It’s coming. The first angel bound at the Euphrates has been released. The seals will be broken, the seven trumpets will sound, and …’ He paused, new realisation filling him with greedy wonder. ‘And the mystery of God should be finished …’

Rosemont shook his head. ‘You’re crazy. Lower your weapon, right now, or—’

Cross pulled the trigger.

A single bullet ripped through Rosemont’s heart and exploded out from his back. Eyes wide in shock behind his mask, he crumpled to the ground.

Cross stared at the dead man, then bent to take his radio. He set it to an emergency frequency. ‘Wintergreen, Wintergreen, this is Maven,’ he said, using the operation’s code names. ‘Wintergreen, this is Maven. Come in.’

A female voice responded. ‘This is Wintergreen. We read you, Maven. Sitrep.’

‘Mission failure, I repeat, mission failure. We were ambushed – the Iraqis had a gunship on patrol. Rosemont and Arnold are dead. So are our contacts.’

A pause. When the woman replied, it was with clear concern even through the fuzz of the scrambled transmission. ‘Everyone’s dead?’

‘Yes, everyone but me. Our transport was destroyed. I need immediate evac.’

‘We can’t give you evac with a gunship in the air.’

‘It’s been shot down. I need to get out of here before they come to see what happened to it.’

A long silence as the controller conferred with a superior. Finally, she responded: ‘Okay, Maven, can you reach Point Charlie?’ A backup rendezvous point some miles to the south. ‘If you hole up there, we’ll get an extraction team to you asap.’

‘I’ll make it,’ Cross answered. ‘I’ll contact you when I arrive.’

‘Roger that, Maven. Good luck.’ She paused again, then added in a softer voice: ‘I’m sorry about Mike and Gabe.’

‘So am I,’ said Cross, giving Rosemont’s corpse an emotionless glance. ‘Maven out.’

He switched off the radio, then surveyed the area. The cloud had now mostly dispersed, but he didn’t risk removing his MOPP gear; there were still drifting patches of haze in the air. Instead he returned to where he had donned the suit to retrieve his equipment webbing. There was a water flask attached; he took it, then went back to the crater.

The small sliver of the angel was still submerged in the blood-red water. He removed the flask’s cap, then carefully picked up the shard and dropped it inside before it started to smoke again. The thought occurred that he should find one of the dead agents’ canteens, as there was no way of knowing how long it would be before he was rescued, but he dismissed it. He knew he would find what he needed to survive. ‘“For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them unto living fountains of waters …”’ he said quietly as he firmly secured the cap.

His cargo secured, he set out into the wilderness.

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