Nemesis: Box Set: Books 1 - 3 (6 page)

Not yet. The entire state would need to evacuate, but most would die before that happened. Florida, South Carolina, and any other surrounding states would get fall out. She would be looking at a fifth of the population removed overnight.

“Two days,” she said aloud, talking to the empty room. “Two days, then we reassess.”

B
ryan didn’t sleep anymore
. He didn’t know how, and that was a very, very weird feeling. At first, panic had gripped him, a panic that consumed him. He hadn’t been able to think a single coherent thought—the world, for a few hours, became a haze of crippling terror. He realized now he had fully shut down,. There were no memories from the time his body raised off that orb, his clothes little more than rags, and now he was in his bed, and the…the what? The being? The thing? Whatever the fuck had somehow possessed him, it was finally sleeping.

The thought of sleep made Bryan wonder about his own existence. It took a long time to get to this point, hours of maniacal screams, followed by him screaming purposefully at the thing, then trying to coax it. Now, while it slept, Bryan’s body missing school, he could think some. He felt himself, quite often, heading into that same panic—reverting to a place where he had no control at all—and he immediately reined himself in. He wouldn’t go back there, wouldn’t go to whatever world awaited him in that darkness. Because if he went there, he might not come back out, and if he didn’t come back out, whatever possessed his body would remain inside it forever.

Bryan thought he knew why the thing was sleeping: it seemed to be capable of hyper regeneration. When Bryan left the field—or rather, his body left—he was littered with holes. Tiny red dots that dripped blood down the side of his face and the whole front of his body. He could feel his body still, had a sense of what was happening, and he looked on as the holes covering him healed. What should have needed hospitalization and a month to completely heal, would be closed over and scarless within the next hour. Whatever the thing was doing, it did it to make his body whole again.

It was alien. Bryan didn’t know if that meant it was an alien, only that this goddamn thing wasn’t from Earth. Foreign and invasive. That’s what he had categorized it as when he finally calmed down some, trying to take a cooler look at it. There was intelligence, too, though it hadn’t conversed with him during his screaming fit. Perhaps it hadn’t heard him; perhaps it placed him in some kind of isolation, keeping him away from its consciousness. Bryan didn’t fucking know but it mattered a great deal. If he was isolated, kept from talking to it, then there wasn’t any chance of reasoning, of having a conversation about just what the fuck was happening. There wasn’t any chance of freedom.

He tried searching it while it slept. A large animal slept inside his mind (or was his mind
its
mind now?), so massive that if he tried to pierce its hide, it would feel nothing at all—less than the tiniest scratch to something so huge. He couldn’t penetrate its hide, though. Couldn’t find out a single fucking thing about it.

Maybe when it woke up, then its defenses would come down some.

So Bryan waited. He waited and let his mind think, unable to really control his thoughts. The all consuming panic had subsided, but the underlying current wouldn’t—not until there was some resolution here. Some goddamn knowledge of what was happening. Still, the current grew large as he waited, racing him down that short corridor which led to madness. The whys, the whats, the hows, all of it unanswerable because
THIS FUCKING THING HAD TAKEN OVER HIS FUCKINGBODYANDHECOULDN’TDOANYTHINGABOUTIT
.

Calm down,
he thought.
Calm down. You’re here, inside your mind.

That in itself, was something he couldn’t fully understand. Inside. His. Mind. Bryan couldn’t believe anyone had ever felt like this, because one didn’t go inside their mind, one
was
their mind. No longer for Bryan, though. He wasn’t sitting in some captain’s chair, controlling everything. He was in a corner, a dark one, looking out at the beast now in charge. His mind wasn’t his; he still had access to his memories, but so did this other thing, this entity. He was a guest in his mind now, and perhaps an unwanted one. Maybe this new thing could get rid of him, discard him like a bug inside a house.

Bryan was given this mind, this body, when he entered this world. He didn’t know if he ever truly possessed anything else, but this mind and body had been his. No one else could lay claim to them, and that was the way the world worked. The way the whole goddamn universe worked.

No longer, though.

It took him time to fully calm down, but eventually the panic subsided, and for a while he sat alone, watching the huge animal sleep.

Until it woke.

All at once, coming to life like a car hooked to jumper cables.

Bryan thought he knew fear before she woke. He thought he knew panic. But what he saw controlling his body, what he saw possessing his mind—he quickly realized everything he had felt was a single grain of salt in the ocean.

Bryan Yetzer,
she said, savoring the words like wine.
I enjoy your language
.

Bryan had no response, had no idea what it even meant that the being was a female and that she was talking to him. Fear paralyzed him.

Stay quiet, Bryan Yetzer. There is a lot to be done yet.

M
orena walked down the steps
, the hand she controlled reaching out to the bannister. This body wasn’t tough to get used to; it was a primitive thing, and that meant it lacked the capabilities of her own body. She couldn’t resurrect her own body yet, though she desperately wanted to. The risk was too great right now, using all of that energy to sustain her life, especially given what she might have to do here. If this planet didn’t work out, she didn’t know if she would have the energy necessary to leave this place.

So this body would have to do.

She reached the bottom of the steps and smelled…sustenance. The creature inside her knew what the sustenance was called—bacon and eggs—and his body was already reacting to it. She paused, not moving until she understood exactly what was happening. The body was hungry, meaning it wanted to consume the sustenance.

Makers be blessed, this thing was ancient. The need to consume outside sources to continue living. Morena decided right then she wanted to understand the history of this species, to understand how long this evolution had taken. Depending on the time, she might just wipe out the entirety of them. They might not be worth the sustenance they consume if their genes were that weak.

Still, she would have to eat, if for nothing else than to keep this creature’s body going.

Morena plotted out her way to the kitchen inside Bryan’s head, wanting to be sure where she was heading before she started walking. Once she felt confident about what was expected of her in the next room, she moved forward.

“Good morning, honey,” a female said from the left of the kitchen. Morena didn’t understand, but knew that she didn’t want to stop right here and try to figure it out. She continued walking, making her way to the table where Bryan’s memory told her she should sit. What did it mean, these words—
good morning, honey
? Communication. That’s what was happening, this woman was talking to her, and she was…showing affection? Yes, that’s what Bryan’s memories relayed to her, though he was in no condition to actually tell Morena himself.

The woman expected Morena to speak back.

“Good morning,” she said as she sat down at the table. She heard someone else coming down the stairs, and continued her rapid assimilation of Bryan’s memories. This was going to be tougher than she thought. When she arrived at the house early in the morning, she was only concerned with healing the holes she made, not with getting a firm grasp of the social aspect of this species. They were social, though, intensely so according to Bryan’s memories.

In this body, there was little she could do to protect herself against an attack. If this body died, it didn’t mean Morena died, but it did make everything else she had planned that much more unlikely. She needed to keep this body safe, at least for a time, and that meant she needed to understand the social structures these creatures lived under.

A male figure, Bryan’s father, walked into the kitchen and Morena turned around to look at him. “Good morning,” she said, trying to mimic her earlier words.

“Hey,” the male figure responded.

Morena looked at the garbs covering her own body and then looked at those of the father. Completely different. Jeans and a t-shirt on the host while the father wore a collared shirt and tie. Her mind was a constant search and a constant observation—trying to match up the things she saw with the things Bryan knew. She had never attempted something like this before, never needed to.

She ate the sustenance, what Bryan called breakfast, while the two other people spoke. She kept quiet, listening, and trying to give answers when they spoke, but mainly just trying to understand. Understand what all of this meant, because Morena needed time. She needed to understand more about this world before she could attempt to bring Briten back.

She would need this Bryan creature to regain some form of consciousness soon. She would need him, though she didn’t like it. She needed him to direct her through this world, at least for a few days.

M
ichael opened
his eyes before he could identify the noise. He didn’t move, just opened his eyes and stared off the side of his bed.

“Michael, you up?” His father called from outside the locked door. He probably wasn’t happy about Michael locking his door, but it sounded like he needed something, so he wouldn’t mention it. When his dad wanted something, a lot of Michael’s transgressions could be overlooked, praise God.

“I am now,” Michael said, still not moving.

“I’m hungry. Do you want to drive me to Burger King? I’ll buy yours too.”

Michael looked down at the watch on his wrist, and saw that it was nine in the morning. His father either had started drinking pretty early or was still drunk from last night. He sounded okay though, if a bit slurred, but that was to be expected. He wasn’t angry and that was a blessing Michael couldn’t discount.

“Okay,” he said, knowing that if he said no, hell would break loose in this trailer.

“
T
he Packers are
gonna have a good year this year,” his dad said, looking out the front window. Michael could smell a slight odor of booze, but nothing too strong. It meant Wren probably had a few drinks this morning, but at least he wasn’t trying to drive. Sometimes he’d get in his truck regardless of how many vodka Gatorades he’d drank, and no one could stop him.

Today he’s making smart choices, asking me to drive him and all. Haha.

“You seen the defensive line they put together?” Wren asked.

Michael didn’t look over at him, just kept his hands on the wheel. Of course he hadn’t looked at the Packers’ lineup. He didn’t have the time or inclination to look at it. He couldn’t care less about the Packers or football in general.

“No,” he said.

Wren went silent for a few moments.

“How’s school going?”

And then Michael understood what was happening here. He had thought his dad was just really excited about the Packers’ upcoming season, but this was so much worse than something that simple. His father was trying to hold a conversation. He did this from time to time, and it always pissed Michael off. The every-once-in-a-while check-ins, as if his father actually gave a damn. Most of the times their conversations were just Wren talking up a storm about whatever went through his mind, and Michael acting like he was listening, though none of it mattered to him at all. Either that or his dad was screaming.

Michael didn’t want to do this now. He didn’t want to talk to his dad, didn’t want to talk about school, didn’t want to talk about football, didn’t want to talk about a single damn thing.

And yet, Michael couldn’t say any of that. Not if he wanted peace.

“Not bad. I’ll probably have all A’s this quarter.”

“Really?” His dad asked, looking over to him now, genuine surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding.

“Wow, Mike. That’s…that’s something. When will you know for sure?”

“Another couple months.”

Wren was quiet for a few more seconds. “Will you bring it home to me when you get it?”

That was different. Unexpected. Bring it home to him? Did he realize that Michael got one of these things every few months, and had for the past thirteen years? Bring it home to him? So they could, what…hang it up on the fridge? Frame it? What the fuck was he talking about? This wasn’t The Brady Bunch, wasn’t Leave it to Beaver.

“Sure. I mean, I guess,” he said, trying to keep the heat in check.

A few more seconds passed in silence.

“That’s really something,” Wren said, almost to himself, his eyes looking out the passenger window.

Minutes went by in silence, which is what Michael needed, that and no more attempts by his father to buddy up.

“How’s Thera doing?” Wren asked, still looking out the window, his voice much quieter than when they began this trip.

“Thera?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. How’s she been? I haven’t spoken to her in a long time.”

He couldn’t be more right. Michael didn’t know the last time that his father had spoken to any of his friends. He didn’t know the last time any of his friends had even seen Wren. Thera asked about him, but never the other way around.

“Why haven’t you talked to her?” Michael asked, not looking over at his father, raising his left hand up to the steering wheel so that both held onto it.

“Just been busy, I guess,” Wren said. His voice was soft, the happiness of the Burger King trip completely gone. He had been busy, and that was why he hadn’t had the time to ask Thera how she was doing over the past few years. There wasn’t any way he could actually believe that, that he’d been too busy drinking to talk to someone. It might be something that he said now, but he had to know how stupid it sounded, how he was anything but busy.

Was it pity creeping into Michael’s thinking? He didn’t feel that emotion much for his father, and it felt strange on this random Monday as they drove to a fast food restaurant. His father couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t say—
because I’m drunk all the time, and anything that happens outside of my television doesn’t matter to me. Truth be told, I really don’t know why I’m asking right now; I guess because the TV isn’t here to keep me entertained.

They drove along, the truck moving smoothly over the paved road, neither speaking. As the Burger King sign appeared on the horizon, Michael wanted to say something. But, he didn’t know what. His father had made this bed, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. There wasn’t anything Michael could say to alleviate the guilt weighing on his father’s mind.

So Michael stayed silent. They ordered. They ate. They went home.

W
ren knew what Michael thought
, though he hadn’t said anything. The boy had kept quiet and Wren was thankful for it, Lord was he. He didn’t want to talk the rest of the time they were together, and he was thankful that Linda didn’t either. Wren didn’t know if he would be able to take her chastising him, bringing up what he already knew to be true while he sat there eating with Michael. It would have been too much.

And what he knew was that he was a horrible father. There wasn’t any other way to put it, not with his buzz wearing off and the sun shining above him. He might be able to dodge that little fact at night, might be able to lose himself in TV, but not right now. Not after the questions he just asked.

They got out of the truck and walked inside the house, Wren going to his chair while Michael went back to his room. God bless the boy, because he could have said any number of things, but he hadn’t. He’d given Wren a kindness and Wren couldn’t say a word about it, couldn’t admit it.

Why not?
Linda said as he leaned back in his chair, finally deciding to comment on the situation.

He couldn’t admit that to his son. He couldn’t admit that he had no idea what his high-school grades were, not anymore than he already admitted it with his question in the truck. He didn’t even want to admit it to himself right now, but he didn’t have a choice. Or, he hadn’t had a choice—he did now. He was home and he could make it go away.

He waited for Linda to speak again, but nothing came. Everything inside him was blessing the decision, the choice to have a drink and then another, so that he could forget the whole car ride. Forget the question about Thera, forget his answer about being busy, forget even asking the fucking questions. Wren did what he had to do. To keep going. That’s something Linda couldn’t understand—

But can Michael? s
he said, whipping her voice in again.

Yeah, Michael probably could. Michael probably understood what it meant to go on, no matter what. He went on in different ways, for sure, but he went on. Without Linda. Without Wren.

What about him, Wren? Does he have any addictions yet to help him cope?

Wren stood up with that, throwing the question from his mind the way he would a rattlesnake in his bed. He walked into the kitchen, green cup in hand, ready to silence everything.