Ghost of the Gods - 02 (35 page)

The world was silent and still except for a ringing in his ears. No one was advancing on their position. The explosion had destroyed an entire house and damaged several others. Mark no longer felt the singularity pulling on his mind. The bomb site looked like a smaller version of what Noah left behind when he exterminated a hive.

For some reason, Mark’s attention was drawn to a vacant lot. He saw the shadowy form of a man standing outside in the storm underneath a huge tree. Mark squinted through the rain-smeared glass. Sarah had also spotted something next to the same tree. Before a medical assist could verify if anything was there, the shadow had vanished like a ghost.

All of Mark’s instincts were screaming
drive, get out of here now!
He heard Sarah unlatching her safety belt. A weaponized memory capsule entered him, defeating all his defenses and detonated like a starburst. The memories that flooded into him were ghastly. He was reliving the death experience of a hive member that had been exterminated sometime in the past. The hybrid’s brain was alive in a hopelessly wrecked body. The enhanced capacity to stay alive with barely functioning biology gave the seeds time to affect repairs, but the consequences were hideous. Suddenly the agony for the hybrid stopped and he was free. He floated up into a world of lucid dreams but then was yanked back into the wrecked body and unrelenting pain as the seeds affected barely sufficient repairs. The vicious cycle of release and return continued for hours until the energy store of the body was gone and the brain stopped working. There was no final death experience recorded. Whatever had happened, it was a journey from which the hybrid did not return. The memory capsule ended. The entire experience, spanning hours, had been relived in less than a second. He knew from his mental connection with Sarah that she’d experienced the same terrible cycle of repeated deaths. Why had they been attacked with this memory capsule?

“It was just like my near-death experience,” said Sarah. “Only in the end he didn’t come back!”

“It was death pornography,” said Mark. “I need a shower.”

“Don’t you get it?” said Sarah. “This explains why we haven’t shared any death experiences when a hive is destroyed. Memories of the experience are only uploaded into the god-machine if the brain survives. So we only have memory capsules of near-death experiences, never the final death experience.”

Mark knew Sarah was right but was troubled by her callousness. He studied her and soon felt lost swimming in her emotions—then he found his answer. She was not callous. In her mind, this hybrid had suffered, but what was that suffering when compared to his astonishing destination? He was now an immortal in a world of lucid dreams… or so she thought.

Mark Freedman – Arizona – March 1, 0002 A.P.

The Humvee appeared unharmed from the shockwave that had sent them careening from the road and into the yard. Mark had pulled onto Interstate 40 several miles ago. He was driving as fast as weather and road conditions permitted, which was well below the generally ignored speed limit posted on rusted signs. The windshield wipers were slapping furiously. Mark hoped the weather would let up soon. An assist projected the vital stats of a weather forecast into his vision. They were nearing the edge of the weather front and conditions should improve. He was baffled. The god-machine had never been able to provide weather data before. It could display temperature because seeds were in the environment, picking up ground temperature. A weather forecast required wind speed and direction, barometric pressure, radar, and god knows what else. How could the god-machine have access to that kind of data? The forecast almost looked like something from the Internet, which was impossible. Maybe the god-machine was pulling information from the mind of a meteorologist?

“You look distracted,” said Sarah. “Let me drive for a while.”

Mark pulled over and stopped. He was calming now that Flagstaff was behind them. The explosion had commanded the full attention of the Flagstaff force. Mark had slowly driven away from the scene of destruction without attracting even a glance from the police. He knew there would have been no good explanation for an old man with handcuffs and a pillowcase over his head on the floor of their car.

Sarah buckled herself in and they were soon under way again down Interstate 40. Mark was eating his second Kashi nutrition bar. The highway was dropping in altitude and the clouds clearing. The roads were dry. In a few more miles it looked like it hadn’t rained at all.

“That bombing had to be Noah,” said Sarah. “He’s following us.”

“What’s he up to?” said Mark. “Why all these games?”

“Ever wonder if Noah is the only betrayer?” said Sarah.

“I don’t know… maybe?” said Mark. “But I do know we have to stop these hives.”

“We should try to work with Noah.”

“I think we need to bring in the government,” said Mark. “I hate to say it, but we should try contacting McKafferty. I want him dead, but I’m willing to help him kill hives in the meantime.”

“It’s too risky for us to get McKafferty involved,” said Sarah. “But maybe that’s exactly what Noah’s accomplishing with his bombings. Draw attention and force the government into investigating.”

Mark thought about what Sarah had just said. With all the bombings that had already occurred, the USAG should have been using every domestic security agency they had at their disposal. He felt a growing anxiety.

“What if the government’s already involved, but on the wrong side?” said Mark. “Think about it. The hives are clearly not acting alone. They’re receiving help from somewhere. Noah warned us Mustafa was an influential, wealthy man. The hives have enough money to buy any politician they want. People in high places must know about the hives by now. Why no action against them?”

Mark glanced into the back at the passenger. Once they had left Flagstaff, Sarah had helped Mustafa up into the seat. Mark climbed into the back and pulled off Mustafa’s pillowcase. The old hybrid looked like he was in one of his alert moods.

“Okay, illuminati,” said Mark. “Do I have to start hurting you? I want to know the hive’s plans.”

“Ask your psychopathic savior,” sneered Mustafa. “Why did he tell you nothing? Doesn’t he trust you? Why should I trust you when your friends do not? You and your mate are as responsible for killing guides as the betrayers. You have helped destroy sources of paradise, and you want me to help you do more of that!”

Mark recalled an implanted memory from when he was being subsumed by the guide. The hives were elegantly engineered machines modeled after nature. There were plans for a short hibernation of some kind. The guide had explained they were burrowing in to survive what was coming. The lifting of the veil would bring chaos to the breeders and from that chaos—the hive’s new world order—the way of twos would arise and flourish.

Mark stared at the ancient hybrid. Noah had said Mustafa would provide all the information they needed. So far he had provided nothing. To have any chance of stopping the hives they needed to know their enemy’s plans and what they were capable of doing. With that kind of information Mark knew McKafferty would be forced to act even if others in the government worked against the general. Mark despised McKafferty, but he knew the man was a true patriot. McKafferty had to be very troubled by what America had become.

Mark stared at a defiant Mustafa as two ideas came together in his mind out of nowhere and collided. Mark relived in his photographic memory what Noah had told them.

Take this illuminati, Mustafa, with you. Critical information you need will be provided by this creature. Without him you do not stand a chance. Take the nexus too. It will be of use. It can retrieve data from places the goddess cannot reach.

“Could it be that simple?” thought Mark. Could the key to unlocking Mustafa be the relic? Why was Noah being so cryptic? Why clues instead of answers, unless maybe all Noah had to go on was guesswork… or maybe the answers were things he wanted to keep from them for now? Mark climbed into the front seat and fished around in the backpack for the device. For safe handling, they’d started keeping it in a glass jar. Sarah switched on Air Truth.

…We have a report that sounds like a kill-zone. I don’t know what to believe, so here is what we know. Everyone in St. Petersburg, Florida, within a half-mile radius of the epicenter has died at the same time. Sixty-two people are reported dead and the number is expected to climb. People in cars, people in stores, people on the beach, all dead. Animal life has also been affected. Pets were found dead as well as wildlife, which was never the case in previous kill-zones.

Local authorities are investigating. The area has been sealed and a gag order has been issued for the media, who are at this time reporting the party line that this attack is some kind of horrific hoax.

Sarah looked visibly shaken. Mark turned off the radio. He knew if this kill-zone was real then it was just the beginning.

“Why didn’t we have any warning or a remote view of it when it happened?” asked Sarah.

“Maybe it is a hoax?”

“What about Darwood? Maybe that report was also a cover-up?”

Mark looked at the relic. They needed to know a lot more. If kill-zones had started happening with no warning from the god-machine and not even a clue that one had struck, then something new and very scary was going on. It could not be a coincidence that the hives were proliferating and at the same time this started happening.

With no clear plan of action, Mark got into the back with Mustafa. He removed the relic from the jar and held the device close to Mustafa’s face. He could sense discomfort in the ancient man. That reaction meant he could be on to something, but Mark still had no idea what to do. He knew how to turn it on, but then what? He was getting no help from his new, entangled thought-interface. An assist was showing the same runic warning symbols displayed over the device as before. He had been hoping for something more. Mustafa licked his lips, which looked parched. Mark squeezed the nexus, turning it on. The silvery mercury screen expanded to fill the flat surface. A second assist showed the n-web warping around the nexus as if it were a tiny black hole. He heard a collection of beeps, indicating their phones and tablets had lost signal. The device was definitely hungry and communicating with everything. The runic icons on the screen appeared, then disappeared to be replaced with what looked like paragraphs of runic text with images. When the screen filled, the content began scrolling off to the left in pages. Going on intuition, Mark took Mustafa’s hand and forced the nexus into his palm. Mustafa tried to drop it, but Mark shoved it back into Mustafa’s fingers.

“Hold on to it or I am going shove it into your mouth,” snarled Mark. “Your choice. I guess I could also shove it up your ass!”

Mustafa stopped fighting. The runic text on the screen changed to what looked like a subtly different language. The content was now scrolling too quickly to examine. Mark’s entangled interface began translating some of the text captured by his photographic memory. Mustafa was sweating. Mark could sense fear radiating from the hybrid. Mark learned from an entangled memory what was happening. The nexus was displaying some of Mustafa’s thoughts. These were not thoughts that leaked from his subconscious onto the n-web. Mustafa did not leak, and if he did, Mark would have picked up on it long ago. The nexus was capturing the faint, local electromagnetic emanations of Mustafa’s thoughts from within his nanotech nervous system and displaying a reconstruction. The nexus truly was a promiscuous communicator, and Mustafa was just another piece of electronic junk for it to hack. Mark wondered at the amount of computing power contained inside that small black box. The runic text that was translated did not seem relevant to Mark’s questions. It was clear Mustafa was trying to control what he thought about. There were bits and pieces about ancient times and an image of a cylindrical device that filled a room about the size of basketball court. The device was partially recessed into the floor and had thick cables snaking out of it every few feet. The results were both curious and disappointing. Mark realized he’d have to somehow force Mustafa to think about the specific things he wanted information on. Sarah swerved wildly. The tires screeched as the Humvee fishtailed and then was back under control. The nexus tumbled from Mustafa’s fingers.

“Sorry,” shouted Sarah. “Road junk.”

A large, handmade wooden sign for Meteor Crater went by, announcing a turnoff in only five miles. Mustafa’s eyes were closed as if he was trying to prevent himself from thinking. Mark’s immediate intuition was that something Mustafa had just seen was threatening to bring up memories he did not want revealed. It had to be the image of that cylindrical object on the nexus.

Mark retrieved the nexus. He could feel the cold surface extracting its price from him as he stared at the scrolling text, which had to be his own thoughts. He understood why the nexus had not done this before when he or Sarah had held it. This mental hacking only worked on near fully hybridized nervous systems. It didn’t work on biological systems at all. He forced the nexus back into Mustafa’s fingers. Mark glanced out the window. Another handmade sign for Meteor Crater went by, announcing a turnoff in only four miles. This sign looked like it had been hit by a car and was partially flattened. It was synchronicity. The pieces started to fit together perfectly. Mark somehow knew there was a connection between Meteor Crater and the cylindrical device. It was all part of what Mustafa was trying very hard to suppress at this moment.

“Sarah, head toward Meteor Crater.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Mark Freedman – Meteor Crater, Arizona – March 1, 0002 A.P.

Sarah pulled to a stop in the parking lot for Meteor Crater. Mark was surprised the place looked like it had been abandoned decades ago, instead of at most two years. A high solid fence topped with razor wire blocked the crater from view. The entrance looked like it had been blown open with a hand grenade. With only two ways in or out, Meteor Crater was an ideal spot for an ambush, but how many victims would wander into this spider’s web? It did not seem like a bountiful hunting ground for predators of the two-legged variety. Neither Mark nor Sarah could sense any presence other than their own.

Mark kept a firm grip on Mustafa’s upper arm as they headed down a trail leading to the edge of the crater. Ralph was roaming far ahead of them. Sarah was several yards in front of Mark, wearing body armor and carrying her M4. She looked like a special forces operative. Her M4 assault rifle now had a 40mm grenade launcher, which she had installed under the barrel last night. Mark pitied anyone that got in their way in this isolated place. Any aspiring predators would soon find themselves the prey.