Slowly, the beholder shifted its weight and rolled onto its behind, and then it pushed itself to a stand with the help of its good arm. Stone, wood, cement, wire and brick fell away, contributing to an expanding cloud of dust surrounding it.
The beholder stomped in the direction of the main Barnyard building, crushing a utility shed with its foot in the process. With a noise like a thunderclap, it brought its working fist down to tear a great rent through the middle of the main roof. Then it rotated its arm to and fro in the interior, sweeping away structural components in the process. The building began to collapse in on itself.
The enforcers who had remained now reconsidered, fleeing from the maelstrom caused by the beholder.
Some of Nobura’s men began taking aim at the fleeing enforcers.
“The time for killing is over for us,” Nobura announced, pressing hard on his neck to stabilize his vocal cords. “Lower your weapons.”
They looked surprised but did as they were told.
A lone Adherent who had arrived with Cecile was on his knees beside them, in a trance. He was gawking at the beholder, but also mouthing Credo gospel in fragile whispers. He said, “blessed be he, the son of the Sentinel has returned.”
Nobura and his men watched as the beholder stomped out several more guardians and proceeded to crush or dismantle the remaining guard towers. Then it began focusing on the buildings in the interior, on the more solid bunkers.
It simply stomped on the first two bunkers with its feet, then pulled apart the remainder with its hand. For the next bunker it tore the roof off and pounded on the interior with its fist, stamping out whatever machinations Gail had created inside.
The next building exploded when it pulled the roof off, throwing the beholder again onto its back. But the beholder seemed undeterred. It awkwardly regained its footing and then moved on.
It returned to the main Barnyard building. After it had cleared away some of the remaining freestanding structure it reached deep into the rubble and ripped off the roof of a bunker deep in the interior. This one was like a hornets nest. Hundreds of drones flew out in all directions, some of them assaulting the beholder and chorus larks. The beholder thrashed about, swatting them like flies, but most of the drones escaped its reach and flew out in all directions across the city.
Nobura began to wonder about his troops to the east and west, and those stationed out of town. The sight of the beholder in action was awesome to see, but they were doing nothing here, and the weight of those dying around him began to press on his conscience.
“This is not our fight any longer,” Nobura wheezed. “Our job here is done.”
Their squad began gathering what wounded they could, collecting weapons and supplies as well. They formed a column to move out through the aperture in the Barnyard wall. The ground trembled as the beholder continued its systematic demolition of the Barnyard area behind them.
THE STADIUM
The disabled helicopter spiraled down, faster, and faster, farther and farther. There was no way to control it. Axel tried to get out of his chair, to get to the cargo bay so he could jump, but the g-forces were too strong. They were plastering him to his seat.
As the land and sky shuffled before his eyes, he thought this was it. After decades of work, after countless warnings, Axel had failed to save the one thing he truly cared about. Now, with the Detonation in full bloom, his family would perish with billions of others, and so would he.
Yet another violent blast impacted the chopper. A missile had exploded just to the rear. But how? Was it Gail, or Nelly, or something else? The force of the impact countered the spin, righting the chopper temporarily.
No longer a prisoner to centrifugal force, he jumped out of the pilot chair and headed to the cargo bay. Immediately he could feel the chopper listing again, heading into another slow revolution. Without hesitation, he pulled the cargo door open and jumped, yanking his parachute cord in the same fluid motion. The chute pulled him forcefully up, away from the chopper. It was briefly ensnared by the motionless chopper blades above him, and then broke free.
Only a moment later the chopper crashed to the ground, and seconds after that his chute glided into a copse of trees. His chest smashed through one tree limb and then was stopped short by another. He fell backward and nearly hit the ground before the cords snagged on some of the branches above him.
The tree branches had knocked the wind out of him. He tried to gasp for air. He tried to climb up his own chute strings, but he had no energy. The world spun, and he lost consciousness.
He wasn’t sure how long he was out. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. His head pounded, each wave bringing a crescendo of pain.
The limbs of the tree swayed above him, its leaves rustling in the breeze.
The tree was… alive.
He was alive.
He was still hanging from the tree by his chute cords. He tried to climb up to the nearest branch using the cords. With each exertion his chest ached. With each exertion the blood also perfused into his tormented cranium, giving his neurons cause to flex with pain.
It would be too hard to pull himself up in his state.
Instead he struggled to remove his pack. He took out a utility knife and began cutting the cords. He avoided heavy strain and abrupt movements. Mercifully, when he cut the second-to-last cord the remaining cord extended down further, lowering him to only a few feet from the ground. Cutting the last cord dropped him neatly below the tree.
An image broke through the torturous waves of pain, resolving in his mind’s eye. It was the five of them, on the beach in Long Island, in front of his old house. It was his family.
His family. That’s why he was here.
“Nelly, which way?” he croaked.
No one responded, of course. His communicator had been fried by the nuke.
His only reference point was a faint trail of smoke he could see through a gap in the trees. It could be the chopper. If the chopper was there, it meant the stadium would be close by.
He jogged forward, his teeth clenching at his body’s objections.
After moving a few yards, he was assailed by a wave of nausea. He stopped, drank some water, and took some pain and nausea meds from his pack. Then he pushed on, this time pacing himself more slowly.
He didn’t walk long, maybe ten minutes, until the forest broke into a clearing.
He could see the stadium. Vultures circled above it.
The ground rumbled under his feet. He paused. It abated, so he continued.
He heard other distant noises, but they were faint, unintelligible. He desperately hoped to hear human voices, but there were none.
Droids of various shapes and sizes littered the area in front of the stadium. None of them showed any signs of activity. There was also a slew of buses, one of which had crashed into a telephone pole. A car nearby looked flattened into the ground. On one part of the stadium, a large borehole had been created. Smoke slunk around the edges of it, as if a giant laser had recently blasted through the side of the stadium wall.
Aside from a barricaded door, it looked like the borehole was the only way to enter the stadium. He knelt behind one of the buses in the parking lot and made sure his assault rifle was loaded. He also loaded a grenade launcher and strapped it to his back.
He heard another loud rumbling noise in the distance. The sky flickered with light. It was another nuke, but much farther away. He stayed down and closed his eyes until he was sure the light wasn’t the precursor to a more devastating shock wave.