torg 01 - Storm Knights (14 page)

41

Captain Ondarev drove the truck through the fields and forests outside Gor'kij. His concentration was split between the road and the young woman seated beside him. On a particularly straight portion of the road, he risked a longer glance at the woman.

Katrina Tovarish sat straight backed, her sightless eyes staring out at the horizon. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, as though she was listening to something. Ondarev could not help but notice how beautiful she was, especially now that she was in real clothing and not hospital garb. Still, the blouse and pants were simple, plain, but on Katrina they outshined any ball gown he had ever seen.

They had not spoken since earlier that day, when Katrina directed him north toward Kirov. Now he simply followed the roads, winding the truck through empty fields in search of something Katrina knew was out here. What it was or where, that was still a mystery. He only hoped she could locate it in time.

"Stop, Captain Ondarev," Katrina said in her haunting voice.

Ondarev, caught by the surprise of her sudden outburst, slammed on the brakes. He turned to ask her what was the matter, but she was already stepping from the truck. He joined her outside.

He walked around the front of the vehicle, moving to lend his arm and eyes to Katrina. But she didn't need them. She rested the long, slender fingers of her hands on the hood of the car, feeling the warmth and vibrations of the engine, as she slowly scanned the horizon to the left of the road. He imagined he felt her mind reaching out, searching with senses that Ondarev hoped were as real as the reports he had read indicated.

"I know you doubt that I can really help you, captain," Katrina said, "but if it makes you feel any better, I am not actually helping you."

"Then who are you helping, Katrina Tovarish?"

The young woman hesitated, for the first time since he met her she showed a sign of uncertainty. "I am not sure, but I hear its pain and fear calling to me. It is so afraid of these invaders. That is who I am helping, captain, a voice that is not a voice, a cry for help that only I can hear."

Ondarev did not understand what the young woman was saying, but the way she said it convinced him that she was not a charlatan or a faker. She was sincere, and as dedicated to fighting her prophetic storm as he was to defending the Soviet people. At least in that regard he could agree with her — stop the storm, and the voice that Katrina alone could hear and the country that Ondarev was sworn to protect would both be saved.

"Out there, captain," Katrina said, pointing toward the open field that stretched before them. "That is where we will find it."

"Find what?"

Katrina hesitated, searching for words to describe what her mind was seeing. "The ... alien thing. It is out there, waiting to guide the storm here. It is ... a marker of a sort, or perhaps an idol. It resists my efforts to examine it closely. It tries to hide."

"Then, my young friend, it is time to bring in searchers," Ondarev said as he reached for the radio in the truck.

He made the call, noticing that the horizon had filled with dark clouds.

42

Father Christopher Bryce watched the mass of people that filled the streets and sidewalks as Alder navigated the van through Philadelphia. Watching people, he decided, was much better than watching the falling rain, even if the people were drenched to the bone.

Philadelphia was a city of refugees, Bryce thought, and we have come to join them in this crowded, dirty, beautiful bastion of civilization. The trip down had been a slow one, as the priest forced them to stop time and again along the way to help other travelers on I-95. Bryce was dressed in black, still wearing the uniform of his station as Jesuit priest. With everything that had happened in recent days, he wondered why he still wore his cassock. Then he smiled wryly. It was because of everything that had happened that he still wore his collar.

Everything. That had happened.

He had witnessed the destruction of New York, had escaped dinosaurs and madmen, and now traveled with a New York cop, two street kids, and a renegade edeinos lizard man. What else could possibly be more natural?

Bryce reached down to his mass kit on the floor near his feet. As he bent, fatigue from lack of sleep and praying at the sides of too many deathbeds made his vision dim. It had been seven days since the beginning of the invasion of New York City. Seven days since the storm clouds opened and the rain began to fall. He and his companions had spent much of those days tending to the wounded and the dying as they fled south into New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Precious few hours of those days were spent in rest.

"Even God rested on the seventh day," Bryce jokingly muttered.

"Did you say something, Father?" Alder asked.

Bryce did not respond. After all, they were tired and wet and unsure of their next step, and humor suddenly didn't seem appropriate.

God rested on the seventh day.

The words swam up in his mind and Bryce studied them for some meaning. God had only created the world, so time to rest was available, he mused. Bryce, on the other hand, was trying to save it. After God had allowed it to come tumbling down, Bryce was trying to fit the pieces back together, the way they were supposed to be, even if all he could touch and help were small bits of it here and there. Just like all the king's horses and all the king's men, he imagined. But like them, he didn't think he could put Humpty Dumpty — or the world, for that matter — back together again.

"What does Christopher mean, Father?" Tal Tu asked from the back of the van. His command of the English language was remarkable after so short a time, but the edeinos had explained that he owed it more to conditioning by his former High Lord than to any natural ability.

"Christ bearer," Bryce said, and the words conjured images of days past.

In the midst of refugees fleeing the madness of New York, he had carried Christ down the New Jersey Turnpike, through Trenton, and into Philadelphia. He knew that his trip was not quite like the trip Joseph and Mary made as they bore Christ to Bethlehem. There was no star to follow, and he doubted if there were any wise men waiting for him at the end of the road.

Christ bearer.

He had already carried Christ to more dying souls than he would have thought possible in his entire life as a Jesuit. And here he was, in Philadelphia, on his way to who knew where to send who knew who to whatever waited on the other side of this fragile veil called life.

His thoughts continued to jumble on, but his mind registered the actions outside the van. Bryce saw a blue Ford jump out of the intersection at a speed that was more suited for a highway than a city street. He heard the van's brakes squeal, heard Alder's call to hang on. He watched the Ford fly past them, barely missing the front grill and throwing up great flumes of water as it cut through deep puddles. He heard screams and a sickening thud, and then he heard the Ford peel out, its engine's roar fading as it moved farther away.

Neither Bryce nor Alder moved, too stunned as they were by the sudden happening. But Rat and Coyote had the side door opened almost instantly. Both leaped to the sidewalk and ran over to see what damage the car had caused. It was their action that roused the two older

men.

Alder moved to restrain Tal Tu, as he was certain that exposing the lizard man to a crowd would result in panic, violence or death for someone involved. Bryce simply grabbed his mass kit and followed the boys.

The three pushed through the circle of people that had gathered. The object of attention was a woman lying on the cold, wet pavement. Her body was bent in unnatural ways, and blood matted her long, dark hair.

"It was a hit and run, Father," Rat said sadly.

"It might be a D.O.A. if we don't do something," Coyote shouted, moving to examine the victim.

Bryce prayed to God that this wasn't another person he would have to send on her way with a taste of salt and sweetness, the substitute ingredients for his own brand of last rites, and the staples of his much-used mass kit.

43

Andrew Decker waited for the lights to dim in the House Chamber. Today they would see footage from California that could provide Congress with facts to work with instead of speculation. The Congressman watched as Jonathan Wells entered the hall and took his spot behind the podium. The podium was the traditional platform from which the President addressed the House and Senate on such occasions as the State of the Union. Decker hoped the union was in better shape than it appeared to be.

"Members of Congress," Wells began strongly, but it was still strange to see the Speaker of the House at the podium instead of in the seat behind it. "The United States is under attack. Earlier today, the area around Sacramento, California was invaded by the same creatures that have been reported in the Northeast. The footage you are about to see was taken by Captain Eugene Johnson of the Air Force from the reconnaissance camera mounted on his A-10 close air support aircraft. Captain Johnson will provide some narration as the film progresses. Please watch the monitors."

The lights dimmed and television monitors that had been placed throughout the chamber snapped on. The first scene to appear on the screens was a dark, cloud-filled sky. The clouds exploded with bursts of silver as jagged lightning bolts jumped among them.

"I was on my approach to McClellan Air Force Base when I noticed the storm building on the horizon," explained Captain Johnson. "It was intense, powerful, and I figured the boys in the lab would be thrilled with some actual footage, so I flipped on my camera."

Huge crackling bolts struck the ground over and over. The wind picked up, shaking the plane and blurring the action for a few seconds. Then the camera showed the clouds roll back. And from that break in the clouds, a swirling wave of energy fell to the Earth, followed by an expanse of mutated jungle.

"At this point, I became confused and, I have to admit, more than a little frightened. This wasn't an ordinary storm anymore. But I didn't have time to stay scared, because this was when I lost power."

The image on the monitors dissolved to static, then to black. The black image was frozen momentarily while the pilot spoke.

"I fought with the controls for about twenty seconds, trying to get the engines and instrumentation to respond. The aircraft was falling, and all the while the storm raged outside my cockpit. I knew this because of the booming thunder that shook the craft, and the flashing lightning that provided me with light to see by. Otherwise, my attention was riveted to trying every trick I knew for jump starting a jet engine."

The image on the monitors began moving again, changing from black to a field of static to a close up of the mutated jungle. The image showed that the plane was very close to the jungle, and flying at a weird angle.

"I regained power after dropping some two thousand feet. Now, with working engines, I could concentrate on what was happening around me. The image you are seeing is an extreme close-up of what I have come to term the "jungle bridge." It dropped out of the opening in the clouds to strike the Earth just outside McClellan. It was over a half a mile at the base, and the vines and plants grew to form a pathway down to the ground."

The camera spun around as the plane leveled off, then it panned around the bottom of the bridge before swinging over the top for a better view. What it showed was a mass of giant lizards, what Decker identified as dinosaurs, parading down the topside of the jungle bridge. One of the lizards of the flying variety launched itself from the bridge and headed directly for the camera. On its back sat a smaller, humanoid lizard that appeared to be directing its flight. Before it got closer, the aircraft's nose-mounted Gatling gun fired a series of bursts that chopped the lizards to pieces. Then the monitors went dark and the house lights were turned back up.

"We had been briefed on what was known about the New York incident, and I decided that this manifestation was of a related nature," Johnson continued. "I released my payload of bombs over the bridge and proceeded to fly south. I eventually exited the zone of silence and made my initial report to officials at the Lemoore Naval Air Station."

The crowd began to talk at once, asking questions, demanding action. Wells called for order, then said, "Now you've seen what we are up against. Like on the east coast, all communications within a three hundred mile area of California have ceased. We must assume that the footage and eyewitness testimony of Captain Johnson reflects what occurred in New York seven days ago. I have already ordered the armed forces to mobilize."

Wells paused to let the new information sink in, then he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm open to other suggestions."

44

Swinging doors slammed open. A doctor and nurse administered to the young woman on the gurney while Alder rolled the wheeled table through the halls of the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. Bryce kept up as best he could, trying to match the police officer's quick strides but failing miserably.

They had left Coyote, Rat and Tal Tu with the van, parked behind the medical facility and out of sight of casual observers. Alder had ordered them all to stay with the vehicle while he and Bryce rushed the victim into the hospital. Both had known that moving a patient with possible back and head injuries was dangerous, but they decided she had little chance lying in the street. Now they were wheeling her into an operating room and praying that their actions would not prove to be wasted.