Matt Archer: Redemption (29 page)

As soon as Blakeney was settled behind the wheel, I said, “Airport. Go.”

Blakeney didn’t even confirm the order with the colonel; he put the vehicle in gear and took off, not bothering to check if the others were behind us.

“Sir?” Lanningham asked. “Want to tell us why we’re bugging out without even cleaning up the scene? We’re leaving those things to rot.”

“After what happened to us in that cave, if Matt says go, we go,” Uncle Mike said. “I’ll have the general’s office coordinate a clean-up effort with the local security forces.”

“Are you all right?” Jorge leaned forward and peered at my face in the failing light. Sunset had begun. “You shouldn’t be moving around so much. You need to recover.”

“I know I died, but—”

“Died?” Blakeney stared at me in the rearview mirror.

“Long story. I have some important things to tell everyone first and I need to do it before the memories fade.” Even now, the whole trip seemed blurry. “The best place to start, I think, is at the beginning.”

For the next twenty minutes, I told them everything I knew. About the dark hall, the Master, Mamie-Supreme, and how I’d moved between worlds. How Dr. Burton-Hughes was right, and we were pawns in a game between cosmic players. I didn’t tell them about the Master’s bargain—none of that mattered. I was going to fight, even if he said I’d die. That decision was made.

I did, however, reveal the most important thing: my vision in Peru.

“A dark army,” I said, “Plowing across bright desert sands, with us racing toward them in Humvees. Here’s the thing, though—every desert we’ve visited had red sand, not yellowish or white. So, I wondered if it was the Sahara or the Gobi, someplace we’d never gone. Then the Dark Master said something about being ‘under our noses the whole time,’ and I figured out exactly where they’ll strike.”

Not one of them questioned the validity of my vision, or if I’d been brain damaged while I was dead—a testament to everything we’d been through together, everything we’d seen, and how the power of the knives was to be trusted.

“Where?” Uncle Mike asked, urgent and angry.

“Colorado.” I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. I was exhausted. Being dead had tired me out. “They’re hiding in the Great Sand Dunes.”

“The national park where I took Brent climbing for his fifteen birthday?” Someone punched the car door. “That means they’re less than two hundred miles from Fort Carson.”

“Right on both accounts,” I said, as the last of my energy burst slipped away. I would slide into unconsciousness soon. “Tink? If they need anything, talk to Jorge.”

I will. You gather your strength. It’s time.

I rubbed the pentagram tattoo on my wrist. Soon I’d find out if my worst fears for the future would come true. As sleep swallowed me up, I hoped we wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

I slept until we were somewhere over the Atlantic. Consciousness came in stages, but I finally woke up to a raging post-magic hangover. Ignoring the headache, I sat up to stretch muscles cramped from lying across a row of airplane seats. Out of nowhere, a flash of a mission with Schmitz popped into my mind, with his dog tags swinging toward my face. God, I missed him. I missed all of them. Instinctively, I reached for my own tags and clutched them in my fist. Would this be all anyone remembered me by? Would Ella forget me after I was gone?

Most of the team was either asleep or playing cards, but Ramirez, Aunt Julie, Uncle Mike, Jorge and Johnson were huddled around a laptop a few rows over.

Murphy came plodding down the aisle and saw I was awake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, all better now? Cardiac arrest aside, a nine-hour nap is excessive, especially when we had to carry your heavy ass onto the plane.”

He was smiling, so I knew he wasn’t mad, but it was like he read my mind. Enough wallowing—I had work to do. “What’s up with them?” I pointed at the officers. “They’re staring at that laptop like their lives depend on it.”

His smile faded into a scowl. “Our lives do depend on it. You should get over there and take a look.”

Wondering what fresh hell was in store, I joined the group. “Everything okay?”

Uncle Mike’s eyes met mine. “Not even close. You were right.”

“About?” I asked, getting a bad, bad feeling.

He sighed and moved to one side so I could see the laptop screen. “This is a live feed from Great Sand Dunes. The President ordered a state of emergency and put the park under National Guard control until we can get there.”

Great Sand Dunes park, at least from the pictures Brent had brought home from his trip, was a wildly beautiful place. Where else would you find a mix of mountain hiking, a river to play in and giant dunes all in one place? It was like a mini-desert dropped into the middle of a ski resort.

Now it was shrouded in darkness. “Where are the mountains?”

What we were watching was a CNN live simulcast of the park. The dunes stretched out in the forefront, but behind it, where a view of the mountains should’ve been, was a dark haze that stood out against the sky. Haze wasn’t the right word, though, because the fog writhed and changed shape too much.

It was my vision from Peru. Only real, and worse than I ever imagined.

“Here they come,” Johnson said, his deep voice tense. “See? There.”

“God, I hope they know what they’re doing,” Julie said.

Before I could ask what they meant, a pair of fighter jets streaked into the frame. Small projectiles shot out from them into the dark mass and the planes veered sharply away.

A second later, the projectiles disappeared into the haze. I waited for some kind of detonation, an explosion or something.

Nothing happened. It was like the mass had swallowed the missiles whole.

“Has it done anything aggressive yet?” I asked.

“Overcame a middle school camping trip and some hikers. One of the kids got a text out before it went completely dark.” Uncle Mike gripped the headrest of the seat in front of him. “All it said was, ‘God, Mom. They’re here.’ And that’s the last anyone heard from them.”

“Those poor kids,” I whispered.

“Then there was that news crew,” Ramirez said. “They flew too close in their helicopter. This black tendril shot out of the cloud, wrapped around the aircraft, and dragged it in.”

“
Wait!”
The anchor at CNN said, pulling our attention back to the screen. “
There seems to be a message coming from the disturbance. Let’s put it on audio.”

There was some static, then a low, dull voice said, “
Archer, you have until sunset tomorrow, or every life is forfeit. You struck the bargain. We’ve gathered here to collect. Come pay in full.”

The anchor and his cohosts went nuts, speculating what the message meant, but I knew. I’d told off the devil and now he wanted payment.

My dark brother always was one for unnecessary drama. Case in point? Black holes. I mean, honestly, who invents soul-sucking gravity wells for entertainment?
Tink said.
If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight we’ll give him. But the theatrics? Please.

Her sarcasm helped curb the mounting fear chilling my blood. Which was good, because the officers were all looking to me, as if I held the answers to this puzzle.

“How long until sunset tomorrow, Mountain time?” I asked.

“Off the top of my head? Twenty-six hours, give or take a bit,” Julie said.

“How much longer until we reach Peterson Air Force Base?”

“Eight hours,” Mike said. “And a three hour drive out to the park.”

“That gives us some time to prepare. Call ahead. Tell them to have a battalion—combat tested soldiers only—ready to roll out from Fort Carson in the morning.” I wasn’t sure the mobilization of hundreds of soldiers was necessary, but given the size of that dark mass, I wanted to ensure we had enough backup. “Also, make sure they shut down the highways along our route. We need to move fast.”

Uncle Mike nodded. “I’ll call the general right now.”

“There’s something else. Every hot spot we were monitoring reports back clear,” Julie murmured. “All of them. Not a single report of supernatural activity.”

Jorge sighed. “The voice said they’ve gathered. Have all the monsters in the world descended on Colorado?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Julie said. “And they’re waiting for us to show up.”

Ramirez, who continued to stare at the laptop, said, “It’s been an honor to serve with all of you.”

We shared grim glances. The enormity of what we were faced with wasn’t lost on anyone.

This was a one way trip.

* * *

We had a police escort—both civilian and military—from Peterson to Fort Carson. They drove us onto base around two a.m. and headed straight to a large conference center. Despite the hour, light shone in nearly every window and a pair of guards waited at the door for us. They saluted until every person on the team made it inside.

Davis met us in the lobby. He’d stayed behind to maintain operations, and I was glad to see him. He always took care of every little detail, and we needed that.

“Is everyone ready?” Uncle Mike asked. “I should meet with command as soon as possible.”

“Sir, yes sir. Four hundred men, armored vehicles, fuel, supplies, ammunition, all ready and waiting,” Davis said.

“Has the disturbance gotten any bigger?” Ramirez asked.

“No, sir. It’s like the voice said—it seems to be waiting.” Davis shot me a nervous glance. “For Archer.”

“Then we’ll deploy at oh-nine-hundred. That will give us a little time to decompress before we leave.” Uncle Mike rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Davis, make sure everyone gets something to eat. Good stuff—not MREs. Wake up the kitchen staff if you have to.”

Will smiled. I wished I could bring myself to be excited about food, but I wasn’t hungry. I was too angry and wound up. In less than twenty-four hours, I would either have saved my sister, or doomed humanity to death in the dark.

Kind of hard to care about my next meal with that kind of pressure.

“Is there a place to clean up?” I asked, more as an excuse to be alone for a while. The stares, the whispers, all of it was getting to me in a big way. I needed time to focus on what came next and I couldn’t do that here.

“There are bunk rooms set aside for each of you upstairs,” Davis said. “You’re in 203.”

“Meet in the command room at oh-six-hundred,” Uncle Mike said. “Until then, don’t leave the building. Dismissed.”

“I’ll be in the chapel,” Ramirez murmured. He had a set of rosary beads looped around his wrist.

Johnson laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You need anything, you know where to find us.”

I nodded and followed Ramirez to the stairs. On the second floor, he went left and I went right. Room 203. My last stop.

Unlike most barracks, this one was more like a hotel, because civilian contractors stayed here while meeting with base administration. Better, there was a private bathroom in each room. I wouldn’t sleep, but a hot shower would do me some good.

Before I could do that, though, I had three texts to send.

To Dad:
I know where she is and I’m going to get her back.

To Mom:
I love you. Don’t watch TV for the next twenty-four hours. Promise me.

To Ella:
You’ve been my reason for breathing. I love you more than life itself.

I closed my eyes, knowing what this would do to her, but she had to know. If I had the slightest opportunity to free my sister so she could end this war, I would do it. Even if it meant dying to save her.

So I added one last word to Ella’s text:
Goodbye.

Messages sent, I turned off my phone and left it in the nightstand. I didn’t need it anymore. Then I stood in front of the mirror and took off my dog tags. I’d leave them here with my phone.

Today, the war ended. And, most likely, so did Matt Archer.

Chapter Thirty-Four

At oh-six-hundred, I stood at the window of the conference room, watching the sun struggle to rise above the horizon. I’d come in without saying a word to anyone and the look on my face must’ve discouraged questions, because they left me alone. Instead, I watched the haze of dawn burn away under the growing sunlight. It was a miracle for the sun to come up like this, day after day, century after century.

A shadow darkened the windowsill to my left. “Chief?”

Uncle Mike looked like he hadn’t slept, either. There were dark smudges under his eyes and his beard had gone from stubble to scruff. His BDUs were fresh, though, and I noticed that his wedding ring shone. He’d polished it sometime overnight.

Once, when I was eleven and being a complete jackass at home, he’d told me a man had to have priorities to make something of his life. His priority was plain to see and his whole adult life had mirrored it. He took care of his family, no matter what he had to do. Over his shoulder, Aunt Julie sat up straight, with her usual severe, businesslike attitude. But I could see the strain she felt, too.

“Hey,” I said. “You all right?”

He smiled sadly. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“I do, though. We haven’t talked much the last few days, other than planning. How are you?”

“I’ll manage,” he said. “But I owe you an apology. I should’ve been there for you, instead of wallowing in my own grief.”

“You don’t owe me anything, because you’ve already given me all you had. I want you to know … ” I paused and stared out the window again so I wouldn’t have to see his face. “You’ve been the most important man in my life and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your little girl has the same opportunity I had—to grow up with you.”

He put a hand on the back of my head, like a priest blessing someone. “Being part of your life has been the greatest privilege of mine. You’ve been my son in every way that counts, and I couldn’t be more proud of the man you’ve become.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He let me go and faced those gathered at the table. “Attention. Time to get started.”

After a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, I joined the team at the table.