in forever, looking at the world behind him. Darkness and sand and nothing else. Where could he go? Back there, into more of the nothingness that made up Bryan's mind? He turned back and looked at the creature. Could he go to her? Would he? Bryan went to something made of white once, and now Michael no longer had a body and Thera was dead. Not to mention the world would probably end soon.
The only other choice was to sit here or try to run, but how could he run from something like that? Where would he run to?
Michael stood up. He didn't walk forward, but not because he felt fear. He didn't. The creature in front of him wasn't here to hurt him. Whatever else it wanted, violence wasn't part of it.
"What are we doing?" he said to the alien.
10
Present Day
W ill spoke to Rigley an hour ago. She sounded like a lunatic, but she didn't sound like holes lined every inch of her body.
He looked at her through binoculars. She sat next to the porch, staring at the white cake in front of her. Another person … though, that wasn't completely accurate. Will recognized him, or what should have been him. The boy stood a few feet away from her—Will wracked his brain for a few seconds remembering the name—Michael Hems. It wasn't the boy though, not really. It was a grotesque caricature of what was once a teenage kid. Muscles bulging, bones bristling against the skin that was supposed to hold them in. Even his eyes seemed ready to pop straight from his skull, landing on the white cake with a bloody, wet, smack .
Will brought the binoculars back to Rigley. He could worry about the boy in a bit. Right now he needed to understand what was happening to Rigley. She breathed in the air around her perfectly fine, and God bless, Will wanted to take the fucking helmet off. He couldn't, though—not yet, at least. It was Knox's only connection to him.
The air wasn't hurting her, but the white cake had, and pretty bad from the looks of it. She was crying uncontrollably, and the rest of her? She looked like a holocaust victim, one that had been locked in solitary confinement and lost her soul as well as her body. The conversation they had, her calling him and it being tapped into his helmet, left him feeling a bit soulless himself.
Looking at her, crying, with pock marks all over, perhaps he was.
Because you know you're the reason she's here, don't you? Because of Bolivia. There might be more, but even so, it doesn't minimize your role in this.
The words might as well have been written on stone tablets by God's own finger. Will couldn't consider them anything but truth.
And does that make you soulless? Or does it make her weak?
He saw the girl again, a picture rising in his head, one that he couldn't discard no matter how hard he tried. The girl he saw when she opened the door, her body controlled by the same creature that forced her way into him.
She's dead now. Does that make you soulless? Or does it make her weak, too?
Will swallowed, his eyes wet. He couldn't reach them, though, to wipe away the tears. They would either dry or fall onto his face.
He had to focus on what was in front of him.
He looked back to Rigley, deciding that he had to get to her. It had nothing to do with any sense of regret; only she could help him understand what was happening. Help might be too strong a word, given what she looked like right now—but maybe she could give him something .
Could he get to her, though?
He was five hundred yards away, lying on his stomach.
She wasn't getting up any time soon; he felt pretty confident about that. She looked wrecked and out of breath. If the big guy went in, she would be alone, and he could get her then.
Will got to his feet, and while crouching, started jogging toward her.
* * *
K nox watched the president click his mouse. He couldn't see the computer screen, but didn't think he needed to.
Marks' voice filled the room. Marks and the woman, Rigley. Knox listened to them speak, leaning forward on his knees
The only other choice was to sit here or try to run, but how could he run from something like that? Where would he run to?
Michael stood up. He didn't walk forward, but not because he felt fear. He didn't. The creature in front of him wasn't here to hurt him. Whatever else it wanted, violence wasn't part of it.
"What are we doing?" he said to the alien.
10
Present Day
W ill spoke to Rigley an hour ago. She sounded like a lunatic, but she didn't sound like holes lined every inch of her body.
He looked at her through binoculars. She sat next to the porch, staring at the white cake in front of her. Another person … though, that wasn't completely accurate. Will recognized him, or what should have been him. The boy stood a few feet away from her—Will wracked his brain for a few seconds remembering the name—Michael Hems. It wasn't the boy though, not really. It was a grotesque caricature of what was once a teenage kid. Muscles bulging, bones bristling against the skin that was supposed to hold them in. Even his eyes seemed ready to pop straight from his skull, landing on the white cake with a bloody, wet, smack .
Will brought the binoculars back to Rigley. He could worry about the boy in a bit. Right now he needed to understand what was happening to Rigley. She breathed in the air around her perfectly fine, and God bless, Will wanted to take the fucking helmet off. He couldn't, though—not yet, at least. It was Knox's only connection to him.
The air wasn't hurting her, but the white cake had, and pretty bad from the looks of it. She was crying uncontrollably, and the rest of her? She looked like a holocaust victim, one that had been locked in solitary confinement and lost her soul as well as her body. The conversation they had, her calling him and it being tapped into his helmet, left him feeling a bit soulless himself.
Looking at her, crying, with pock marks all over, perhaps he was.
Because you know you're the reason she's here, don't you? Because of Bolivia. There might be more, but even so, it doesn't minimize your role in this.
The words might as well have been written on stone tablets by God's own finger. Will couldn't consider them anything but truth.
And does that make you soulless? Or does it make her weak?
He saw the girl again, a picture rising in his head, one that he couldn't discard no matter how hard he tried. The girl he saw when she opened the door, her body controlled by the same creature that forced her way into him.
She's dead now. Does that make you soulless? Or does it make her weak, too?
Will swallowed, his eyes wet. He couldn't reach them, though, to wipe away the tears. They would either dry or fall onto his face.
He had to focus on what was in front of him.
He looked back to Rigley, deciding that he had to get to her. It had nothing to do with any sense of regret; only she could help him understand what was happening. Help might be too strong a word, given what she looked like right now—but maybe she could give him something .
Could he get to her, though?
He was five hundred yards away, lying on his stomach.
She wasn't getting up any time soon; he felt pretty confident about that. She looked wrecked and out of breath. If the big guy went in, she would be alone, and he could get her then.
Will got to his feet, and while crouching, started jogging toward her.
* * *
K nox watched the president click his mouse. He couldn't see the computer screen, but didn't think he needed to.
Marks' voice filled the room. Marks and the woman, Rigley. Knox listened to them speak, leaning forward on his knees
Similar Books
