Moments later three negative forms materialized from the fog. They were the darkest black Davis had ever seen. Their outlines swallowed light, as though they were living silhouettes.
Cotton covered his head with hands and cowered in his orange body armor. “Oh God! Morrison, it wasn’t me…”
Davis, Falwell, and McAllen opened fire with pistols, while the staff sergeant fired short bursts with his M4. In the confines of the Stryker the gunshots were deafening—spent cartridges bounced all around them—but they fired repeatedly until their clips were empty.
As she reloaded, Davis focused downrange, through the gun smoke into the dark fog. The three negative forms stood unmoving.
Finally a voice like that of God spoke: “Deputy Secretary McAllen. I bring a message from the director of the BTC.”
McAllen scowled as he lowered his gun. “What is it, you bastard?”
A tearing sound ripped the air again, and before Davis’s eyes, a white-hot fire swept from inside the tip of McAllen’s outstretched hand and down within his arm as he screamed in agony. It was as though some chain reaction was turning his body into fire. He started to burn like the glow moving down a cigarette. He barely got a second shriek out before his face and torso were consumed by the wave of glowing embers—the heat bursting forth from him singed Davis on the other side of the cabin. By the time the blinding flash ended, his form had collapsed into ash, his undamaged pistol clattering to the steel deck.
“Oh my God!”
Davis had reloaded, and she and Falwell opened fire at the dark forms again, but to no avail. When their guns were empty, they stared at the figures still standing, unaffected.
And then Davis heard the ripping sound again. Falwell turned back toward her as he burned. “No!” She grabbed his outstretched hand and screamed in agony as her skin burned along with his.
The unnatural fire consumed them both.
CHAPTER 23
Harvesters
Jon Grady stared, unbelieving, as Agents Davis and Falwell blew away into ash. He then turned toward the dark silhouettes at the mouth of the wrecked Stryker.
“Aaaahhh!” He charged at them. But one of the forms held up a hand, creating a force that swept over him, Cotton, and the staff sergeant, hurling them against the rear bulkhead. Dazed, Grady felt gravity shift, and they “fell” out to land roughly on the pavement—as if a giant had upended the Stryker and shaken them out like candy. Every loose object in the Stryker came along with them—including the remaining half of the captain, tools, and rucksacks. Grady and Cotton then floated up a couple of feet above the ground. Spent shell casings and trash levitated around them.
Several more dark forms floated down from above to join the first three, and they now stood staring at the floating men.
Grady turned to see that the staff sergeant was still breathing but unconscious. Apparently someone had noxed him—something Grady had seen many times before.
The fog was already dissipating as the summer breeze continued to blow over them, and now Grady could see just how many marines were lying unconscious in the parking lot.
Cotton was babbling toward the jet-black center figure. “Morrison, I wasn’t working with them! Scan me! Go ahead and scan me!”
The same wrath-of-God voice spoke from the ink-black human outline. “How much did you tell them, Cotton? You piece of shit.”
“I didn’t tell them anything!”
As Grady floated in the air, helpless to move, he concentrated on the dark forms. They were menacing in a way he’d never felt before. Like demons from hell.
Morrison aimed his arm. “I don’t feel like scanning you, Cotton.”
A female voice spoke from the sky. “I’ll take the prisoners.”
The BTC warriors looked up to see Alexa descend wearing a black tactical suit of her own—although hers appeared much simpler. It was clearly not assault armor. She had a matching helmet as well with a crystalline visor across her blue eyes. Grady couldn’t help but notice a belt similar to the Morrisons’ woven into her outfit, and he assumed it must be the gravity mirror he’d invented—shrunken to absurdly small size and perfected.
As Alexa descended into Grady and Cotton’s gravity field, they joined her gravitational well, and now seemed to move along with her.
Morrison shouted, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Alexa?”
“I’m taking these prisoners back to the BTC.”
Cotton looked over at her. “Thank God! Alexa, tell them I haven’t said anything.”
She eyed him. “Perhaps not, but you are going to tell me some things.”
She then glanced at Grady.
Grady looked to her. “They killed Davis. They burned her alive.”
Alexa looked visibly disturbed by this news, and she turned angrily toward Morrison and his gathered sons. “An XD gun? You didn’t have to kill anyone, let alone split their water.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Sometimes examples need to be made of people.” Morrison made no visible motion, but loose rocks and debris floating around him started to “fall” with him as his “down” edged toward Alexa and her new charges. “You’re not going anywhere. Hedrick ordered me to deal with Cotton just as soon as I learn whether he betrayed us.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Cotton was floating sideways, trying to get his spin under control. “What does he mean ‘deal with’ me?”
Morrison’s armored black oval of a face remained focused on Alexa’s. His voice came across now at a more conversational volume. “This isn’t your field of expertise, Alexa. You should be back at base. Hedrick has been looking for you.”
“I don’t report to you.”
His voice grew impatient again. “Neither do you have the right to come here and interfere with my operation.”
“You’ve already captured the prisoners. I’m taking control of them now. Don’t even think of ordering me around.”
“Ah, I forgot. There’s only one person you report to…” He paused and then looked upward slightly. “Get Director Hedrick on a q-link to me immediately.”
Alexa apparently wasn’t waiting around. She extended her booted feet, and then she, Cotton, and Grady began to fall upward, slowly at first.
Grady felt little acceleration as he rose into the night sky, and now he could see how many marines were lying unconscious all around them in the moonlight—hundreds.
Morrison’s voice shouted after her, louder now. “Alexa, I’m not letting you take those prisoners!”
“Don’t follow me, Morrison. I mean it.”
They ascended faster, rising above the trees, and now Grady could see the vast expanse of farmland stretching beyond. And the fallen army around them.
His synesthesia made even this horrible vista beautiful, as the stars above were wondrous.
Morrison popped his visor with a hiss, revealing his weathered, scarred face. There were now six of his sons around him in full diamondoid armor, and they likewise popped their visors.
“What’s up with Granny?”
Morrison covered his microphone and hissed, “Go after her. Get the prisoners back while I get Hedrick on q-link.”
The sons exchanged worried looks and covered their mikes as well.
“Fuck that…”
“Iota’s right, Dad.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of a fight between Granny and Hedrick.”
“She’s supposed to be ‘priceless intellectual property’ or some shit.”
“She’s his goddamned girlfriend.”
“What if she fights back?”
“That bitch is dangerous.”
Morrison aimed a diamond-hard black finger at them. “Get your asses up there and follow her.”