head. Why now? He finally had time to spend with his son and that damn Old Man summoned him.
“Jorgie,” Trevor said, still looking out the window. “I have to go for a bit. Why don’t you stay here and finish your drawings?”
“Uh-huh,” came the mumbled reply.
He patted his son on his blonde hair then left the den, leaving behind a black Doberman Pincher named “ Ajax ,” JB’s bodyguard.
Trevor moved along the first floor of the crowded mansion. One time dining rooms and guest bedrooms now served as meeting chambers and offices; the basement held the primary conference room and nerve center. The Stones kept the second floor as personal space.
He heard Lori Brewer’s voice from behind a half-open door.
“What? All riiiggghtty then, if that’s the attitude you’re going to take maybe we’ll just move you into the old warehouse on eleventh street . You know, the one where the Mutants entertained their guests. What’s that? Good. Now you’re being reasonable.”
Amused, Trevor shook his head as he exited the front door of the mansion. He did not even notice how Tyr had caught up to him. They walked side by side out the front gate, and then swung north. A few steps later and they entered the woods. The white wolf had circled around the grounds to meet them on the north side. Trevor and Tyr followed the beast into the forest.
Stone saw less and less of the Old Man in recent years. As long as Trevor freed people and killed aliens the Old Man rarely showed his face. The mysterious entity appeared to be most pleased when Trevor did the most killing. Indeed, the thing that looked like an Old Man wanted Stone to purge every non-human creature from the planet. No mercy. No prisoners.
At the same time, the Old Man often knocked Trevor down a notch. When his forces had cleared Pennsylvania , the Old Man pointed out that there were forty-seven more states to go in the continental U.S.
When they captured Washington D.C. the Old Man scoffed, “You should leave Washington a ghost town as an epitaph to the morons who had tried to rule from there.”
As for Ashley and the others who ‘rode the arc,’ Trevor’s mentor said nothing. He either kept a secret or did not know the answer.
Yes, the Old Man could be quiet when he did not want to share, yet very loud when he had things to say, such as the time he told Trevor he could not be with Nina because she did not share the path he walked. Or when Trevor had announced his grand plan to secure a thermonuclear warhead. The Old Man had been loud with laughter that day.
The weapon would not detonate. Nor the next one, or the one after that.
“They aren’t allowed,” the Old Man eventually revealed. “Against the rules. No—what do they call em’?—oh yeah, no wep-uns of mass destruction. You best be thankful for that cause lemme tell you, there’z stuff on the bad guys’ side that makes a nuke look like a water balloon.”
Stone pushed his way through the brush and tree limbs until he found the Old Man sitting by a campfire with his butt planted on a chunk of red rock.
“Sit down, Trev. We got to talk shop.”
Trevor stepped into the glow of the fire light. His K9 companion, Tyr, rested on the ground by that same fire while the wolf took its usual position next to the old timer.
“What is it?” Trevor said in a short burst like a teenager reluctantly reporting to dad for his daily chores.
“Oh, no nice little howdy-do? I ‘spose I went and pulled ‘ya away from more pressing matters? Gee-whiz there Trev, please accept my
“Jorgie,” Trevor said, still looking out the window. “I have to go for a bit. Why don’t you stay here and finish your drawings?”
“Uh-huh,” came the mumbled reply.
He patted his son on his blonde hair then left the den, leaving behind a black Doberman Pincher named “ Ajax ,” JB’s bodyguard.
Trevor moved along the first floor of the crowded mansion. One time dining rooms and guest bedrooms now served as meeting chambers and offices; the basement held the primary conference room and nerve center. The Stones kept the second floor as personal space.
He heard Lori Brewer’s voice from behind a half-open door.
“What? All riiiggghtty then, if that’s the attitude you’re going to take maybe we’ll just move you into the old warehouse on eleventh street . You know, the one where the Mutants entertained their guests. What’s that? Good. Now you’re being reasonable.”
Amused, Trevor shook his head as he exited the front door of the mansion. He did not even notice how Tyr had caught up to him. They walked side by side out the front gate, and then swung north. A few steps later and they entered the woods. The white wolf had circled around the grounds to meet them on the north side. Trevor and Tyr followed the beast into the forest.
Stone saw less and less of the Old Man in recent years. As long as Trevor freed people and killed aliens the Old Man rarely showed his face. The mysterious entity appeared to be most pleased when Trevor did the most killing. Indeed, the thing that looked like an Old Man wanted Stone to purge every non-human creature from the planet. No mercy. No prisoners.
At the same time, the Old Man often knocked Trevor down a notch. When his forces had cleared Pennsylvania , the Old Man pointed out that there were forty-seven more states to go in the continental U.S.
When they captured Washington D.C. the Old Man scoffed, “You should leave Washington a ghost town as an epitaph to the morons who had tried to rule from there.”
As for Ashley and the others who ‘rode the arc,’ Trevor’s mentor said nothing. He either kept a secret or did not know the answer.
Yes, the Old Man could be quiet when he did not want to share, yet very loud when he had things to say, such as the time he told Trevor he could not be with Nina because she did not share the path he walked. Or when Trevor had announced his grand plan to secure a thermonuclear warhead. The Old Man had been loud with laughter that day.
The weapon would not detonate. Nor the next one, or the one after that.
“They aren’t allowed,” the Old Man eventually revealed. “Against the rules. No—what do they call em’?—oh yeah, no wep-uns of mass destruction. You best be thankful for that cause lemme tell you, there’z stuff on the bad guys’ side that makes a nuke look like a water balloon.”
Stone pushed his way through the brush and tree limbs until he found the Old Man sitting by a campfire with his butt planted on a chunk of red rock.
“Sit down, Trev. We got to talk shop.”
Trevor stepped into the glow of the fire light. His K9 companion, Tyr, rested on the ground by that same fire while the wolf took its usual position next to the old timer.
“What is it?” Trevor said in a short burst like a teenager reluctantly reporting to dad for his daily chores.
“Oh, no nice little howdy-do? I ‘spose I went and pulled ‘ya away from more pressing matters? Gee-whiz there Trev, please accept my
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