Thirst No. 5 (6 page)

“Hell, I’m grateful. But you know the only reason I’m back in this body is to help you and your son and the other seven billion souls on this planet. I could be with Krishna right now, but I chose to come back.”

“Then be happy with your choice, and finish your task.”

“I’ll do that just as soon as I figure out what it is.”

“One hint, Sita, then I’m going. All right?”

I hesitate. “Okay.”

“Since the last world war, everything you’ve done for mankind has been amazing. Yet it all would have been unnecessary if you hadn’t failed at Auschwitz.”

Her words hit like a blow to my solar plexus. I have to struggle to respond. “How dare you. I was lucky to get out of that hellhole alive.”

“Yes, you were,” Paula says, and for the first time there’s warmth in her voice. But it’s small comfort because a moment later she practically hangs up on me. “Good-bye, Sita.”

She is gone. I’m left alone with a dial tone.

“Bitch,” I say.

Frankly, I have no idea what she’s talking about. What did I do wrong in the concentration camp? Is she judging me because I failed to destroy the place? It makes no sense. I told her enough about my time at Auschwitz for her to know I was
in bad shape when I escaped from the camp. But the way she talks it’s like she thinks I should have done a lot more to save the prisoners there.

“She’s so full of shit,” I mutter to myself.

Yet I wonder why I suddenly feel so guilty.

I place another call, this one to Mr. Kram, one of the last surviving Telar and an ex-member of their inner circle. I met him not long before I destroyed what the Telar called the Source, a group of their most ancient leaders. With the help of Brutran’s Cradle I was able to wreck the Source’s psychic shield—a form of protection that made them virtually invulnerable. But it was Mr. Kram who launched a barrage of missiles at the last stronghold of the Telar and wiped out their physical bodies.

He did so because I offered to spare his daughter, Alia.

Unfortunately, Alia turned on me and I had to kill her.

I spared Mr. Kram instead and held him to a promise to help me destroy his leaders. He did so because he feared me, but also because he hated the Source as much as I did. He had seen what they were capable of.

I have kept Mr. Kram’s number just in case.

He seems surprised to hear from me and wants to know why I’m calling. I put my question to him bluntly.

“I want to know why the Telar referred to Yaksha and Umara’s son, Matt, as the Abomination,” I ask.

Mr. Kram is slow to respond. “May I ask why you need to know this?”

“Personal reasons. Answer me.”

“There’s the obvious reason. Matt is the product of two powerful bloodlines. He’s the only child of a vampire and a Telar. It’s no surprise he’s as strong as he is. It’s as if the two most potent qualities of both races blossomed inside him.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing. Yet the Telar feared Matt.”

“Of course. He killed so many of us. It’s no surprise we should fear and even hate him.”

“Still, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Haven’t I?”

“The Telar’s fear of Matt went far beyond his strength. The name you gave him—the Abomination. It’s as if you granted him legendary status, but not in a good way.” I stop to let my meaning sink in. “I want to know about the legends surrounding him.”

Mr. Kram hesitates. “That’s not something we talk about, even among ourselves.”

“Fine. But you’re going to talk about it now.”

“Or else?”

“Or else I will find you and force you to tell me to my face. And that, Mr. Kram, is not something you want to have happen.” I pause. “Talk.”

Mr. Kram is a long time answering. “The legend of the Abomination existed before Matt was born. It came into existence thousands of years ago when the Source was almost solely focused on attaining the supreme reality. In those days the
Telar’s inner circle was in daily contact with celestial beings of almost infinite power and creativity. It was these creatures that warned that if the Telar was not careful, one of their own kind would give birth to a man who was not a man at all. Someone who was never supposed to be born at all. These beings called this no-man the Abomination.”

“And when Matt was born to Umara, an ancient Telar, and Yaksha, the first and greatest of all the vampires, the Source assumed that he must be this Abomination.”

“Correct. As you know, a vampire cannot reproduce, and yet Yaksha did with Umara. That alone made us think that Matt was a man who was not supposed to be.”

“Did you have any other reasons?”

“Not long after Matt’s birth the Black Death—what you probably call the bubonic plague—struck Europe and Asia. You were alive during those days. You know that half the world was wiped out.”

“The Telar blamed Matt for the plague?”

“I suppose we needed someone to blame.”

“What other legends surround the Abomination?”

“The worst one, the strangest one, also came from our contact with celestial beings. They warned that if this man was born who was not a man, then at some point in the future, all mankind’s history would be lost.”

“Lost? How?”

“The legend is vague on this point. I don’t know what
it means. But the legend does say that the Abomination will destroy our history for the love of a witch.”

“So you’re saying that when the Abomination meets this witch, this catastrophic event will occur?”

“Yes,” Mr. Kram replies.

“Does the legend point to a time? When is it supposed to happen?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Mr. Kram’s voice drops to a whisper. “Any day now.”

I force myself to laugh. “Do you honestly believe this nonsense?”

“I’m afraid I do, Sita.” He pauses. “Kill him, before it’s too late.”

“What?” I begin. But Mr. Kram has hung up.

It’s just as well, I was about to do likewise. Of all the crazy legends I have ever heard, this one has got to be the strangest. Of course it’s pure nonsense, it has to be.

How could Matt personally destroy history?

W
e’re attacked a hundred and fifty miles west of Raleigh, where we planned to land. We’re so near the city that Matt has already dropped us down to ten thousand feet and begun to decrease our speed. Fortunately, he doesn’t overreact in the crisis. He quietly calls me into the pilot’s cabin and points to the two objects on our radar screen.

“They’re fifty miles behind us and closing fast,” he says.

“Can you ID them?” I ask.

“Not specifically but they’ve got to be military jets. They’re traveling faster than the speed of sound. We have to assume they’re armed.”

“And that they have orders to shoot us down,” I add.

He nods grimly. “It’s possible they won’t bother to try to take us alive. Whoever’s after us clearly knows we’re hard to
handle. We should assume they’ll fire on us when they have a clean shot.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I have a few ideas.” Matt nods to heavy cloud banks not far in front of us. “Those might give us cover we need to make an escape.”

“Are you kidding? The clouds won’t block their radar.”

“I’m not talking about staying in the plane.”

I shake my head and smile. “How did I know you were going to say that? What should we do?”

Matt glances toward the rear of the plane. “We have parachutes for all of us, although I want Cindy and Jolie to jump in tandem. They can bail out when we reach the clouds, along with Seymour. Then you and I can take down the jets.”

“How?” I ask.

“They’ll want to look us over before they shoot us down to be sure they have the right target. They’ll come up on our rear. That will give them an easy shot with their missiles. That’s when we should strike. If you can time a jump precisely, you should be able to grab hold of one of their wings.”

“I’ll need a little luck to pull off a stunt like that.”

“Sure. But we all know you were born with more than your fair share. When you catch the wing, keep things simple. Rip the canopy off the pilot’s cockpit. Once he’s exposed to the howling wind, he’ll have no choice but to eject. You let go the second he does.”

“How are you going to take down the other jet?”

“I’m going to ram it.”

I reach out and touch his arm. “You’re not talking about a suicide strike, are you?”

Matt frowns as he studies the approaching dots on the radar screen. “It’ll be tight but I should be able to bail out just before the collision.”

“You’ll be playing tag with a heavily armed jet that has twice your speed and ten times your maneuverability. I doubt their pilot will let you near.”

Matt acts confident. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve even Top Gun pilots don’t know about. You take care of your end and I’ll take care of mine. Now get the others ready.”

I stand. “Just one thought. I should be the first one to jump. If I’m able to grab one of the jets, it’ll cause a distraction for both pilots and give the others more cover to complete their jumps.”

Matt nods. “You’re right. But don’t jump until you’re sure you can catch one of them.”

“Understood.” I stop and lean over and kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you on the ground.”

“It’s going to work, Sita,” he says.

Brutran takes the news calmly when I explain our situation, and so does Jolie, but Seymour is another matter.

“What is it with you?” he complains, not bothering to hide his fear. “You’re always having us jump out of something.”

“True. But this time you’ll be wearing a parachute.”

“Great. And I suppose it makes no difference to you that I’ve never worn a parachute before.”

I smile. “A kid can do it. All you have to do is be sure to pull the rip cord when you reach a thousand feet.”

“I’ll pull it the moment I jump,” Seymour says.

“Listen to Sita,” Brutran warns. “Your chute will be easy to spot, even with the clouds. You want to get as close to the ground as possible before pulling the cord. A thousand feet is good. That way their pilots will have less chance of calling in your location.”

“Exactly,” I say. “It will do us no good to escape the jets if they’re able to radio their people where we’ve landed.”

Brutran has already taken out a parachute and is fitting it over her shoulders. She puts one on her daughter as well, but—following Matt’s advice—she has no intention of allowing Jolie to use the chute. She only wants her daughter suited up so she can buckle onto her and perform what’s called a tandem jump. Despite what Hollywood movies would have people believe, it’s physically impossible for a human being to hold on to someone else when they pull their rip cord. The jolt is too strong. But Jolie will be safe if she is locked on to her mother.

“You and Matt are glossing over a major problem,” Brutran says as she preps her daughter, who looks excited at the prospect of jumping out of the plane. “You’re assuming the jets will
line up behind us, in classic attack mode. Remember, these guys have been briefed. They’ll know you and Matt are to be treated with extreme care. They might fire on us as soon as they come into range, which could be any second. Their missiles can hit us from thirty miles out.”

“Matt feels they’ll want to eyeball us before firing,” I say. “Also, if they fire too early, our radar will alert us, which will give us a good chance of bailing out. Matt doesn’t think they’ll risk that. That’s why he’s pretty sure they’ll come in close and go for a kill shot.”

“Why don’t we wait and see if they’ll let us surrender?” Seymour asks. “If they do, then you and Matt can overpower them.”

“That ain’t going to happen,” I say.

Seymour looks miserable. He glances out the cabin’s windows. “I hate heights,” he mutters.

Matt and I have guessed right. Minutes later the twin jets come into view, but they make no effort to contact us by radio, nor do they fly up beside our cockpit and wave us down. Instead, they take up a position behind us, two hundred meters away. I have my parachute on but am still doing a last-minute check on Seymour’s equipment. I worry he hasn’t fastened all the necessary buckles. He can’t stop trembling.

“I wish you were coming with us,” he says.

“I’ll see you on the ground, don’t worry,” I say as I finish checking his chute. I stride toward the side door, which is
located near the front of the main cabin. The door has a locking mechanism that prevents it from opening in midair, and I have to call out to Matt to override it. Just before I yank it open, I give the others final instructions.

“We’ve dropped to eight thousand feet, so oxygen isn’t going to be a problem. But we’re cruising at two hundred miles an hour. The instant I open this door, it’s going to feel like a hurricane in here. Grab on to something solid and hold on tight. After I jump, wait half a minute, then follow me out the door. I want to give them time to react to the fact that I’m hanging on to one of their wings. But don’t wait any longer than that. They can shoot us down at any moment. Understood?”