Read Psion Delta Online

Authors: Jacob Gowans

Tags: #Children's Books, #Action & Adventure, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Children's eBooks, #Science Fiction; Fantasy & Scary Stories

Psion Delta (29 page)

“What—uh—what
do you say when you pray? You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal, but I’ve
seen you do it, and—”

“I
tell God thanks for the food.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But
you pray at other times, too, right?”

“Yeah,
I do.” Al seemed slightly uncomfortable discussing the subject, but Sammy was
curious and ignored the tone of voice. “I tell him what I’m grateful for, and I
ask him for things.”

“Doesn’t
that make you feel like a kid? I mean, asking for stuff and saying ‘thank
you?’”

“That’s
the way I look at it. He’s the parent and I’m the child. He watches out for
me.”

“Do
you believe it was God who saved you when Wrobel and Katie got us?”

“Yeah,
I do. Not to belittle what you did, but I think God helped you to help me. I
hope you don’t take offense to that.”

“No,
I don’t,” Sammy was quick to say, even though he wasn’t sure it was true. After
all, Sammy had
saved Al. Not anyone else. Another question tickled the
back of his mind, but he didn’t say the exact words he wanted to ask. “How do
you know if something good is from God or if it’s from coincidence or someone’s
generosity or—or . . . luck?”

“Or
when something bad happens?” Al answered right back. Somehow, he knew exactly
what Sammy had been getting at.

Sammy
closed his eyes. The image of Stripe appeared very fresh in his mind and he
could hear the Aegis’ voice going on about the wonders of pain. For a small
moment, the dull ache of a crocodile’s biting jaws returned to his leg. His
heart went from calm to pounding in an instant. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “If
God is there, why would he let me suffer like that for two months?”

“I
don’t know, Sammy. I just say thanks whenever something good happens no matter
what. Bad stuff happens to everyone. I lost my mom, you lost both your parents,
but none of that even compares to what happened to you in Rio. You have a lot
of reason to wonder if anyone is watching out for you.”

Sammy
still didn’t want to open his eyes. He wondered why his parents hadn’t given
him answers to these questions.

Al
continued speaking, his voice unusually gentle. “You could also ask yourself
how you got that knife in your hands—the one that enabled you to break out of
the torture room. Or how did you survive Baikonur with a gun pressed to your
head? I hope that doesn’t sound trite because I don’t know the answers. I don’t
know if there’s a God. I believe it and feel it sometimes. I think all the bad
stuff is a product of the world we’ve created for ourselves. Some people see
all the negative and ask ‘How could God let this happen?’ Others see the good
stuff and say, ‘How can people not see God in this?’ A person has to decide
which type they are. Once you decide—”

Deet
deet deet! Deet deet deet! Deet – Deet deet deet!

“Is
that two alarms?” Sammy asked, getting to his feet.

“Yeah.
This could be serious. We’ve got one going off in grid one-delta, another in
one-kilo.” As he spoke he touched his com. “Anna, we’ve got two signals on our
grid. Yazzie is still out on the bug. Berhane and I are checking them out. Can
you send over air support?”

Anna’s
tired voice came over the radio. “No problem, Kolomiyets is sleeping and
Dinsmore is fueling up. Shouldn’t be but a few minutes. Keep me posted.”

“I’ll
take the one in delta,” Sammy said, checking his weapon and putting in night
vision contact lenses from his pack.

“Keep
the com line open,” Al reminded him. “Whisper. No lights.”

“Okay,”
Sammy said.
And thank you for saying that every time I check on the sensors
,
he thought as he grabbed his gear, slung his assault syshée over his shoulder,
and activated his night vision. He loved the contact lenses. Everything was as
clear as day, only slightly greener. He also enjoyed being the hunter and not
the hunted.

The
rain pounded down and filled the air with an endless rattling sound. Each step
was followed by a sucking noise as he pulled his boot from the muck that grew
sloppier every minute. Sammy couldn’t believe that after two days of this
crummy weather, the rainfall was actually getting worse.

The
walk to sector delta one was long and arduous. He wasn’t as familiar with the
delta sector as he was with the nearer ones. As he grew closer, the terrain
became rocky and slick, and the elevation increased steadily.

“Sammy,”
Al’s voice said over the com, “you okay?”

“Al,
I’m not your little brother,” Sammy answered in a whisper as he crouched to the
ground, “and I’m not going to announce my position. If I need help or I see
something, I’ll let you know.”

“Sorry.
I’m sorry. You’re right, that was stupid.”

Sammy
shook his head. “It’s a good thing I’m not Marie or you’d be checking up on me
every five seconds.”

Al
snickered. “Roger that.”

Sammy
climbed upward. The map on his com told him he was now in sector four-echo. The
ground leveled off at the top of a steep hill, but there was almost no cover.
He kept low to the ground as he walked. In his peripheral vision, something
caught his eye. He headed toward it.

A
shoe.

Yay
, he
said to himself,
a shoe.
He picked it up by the sole, but it was much
heavier than he’d suspected. When he turned it over, he realized why.

The
foot was still inside it.

Sammy
gasped as he tossed it.

Just
then a loud
CAW-CAW
to the south startled him as several annoyed birds
took flight. He watched them until they were only inky dots on a dark
blackish-green background.
Carrion crow
. He didn’t know how he
recognized the species, but he knew he was correct. His focus left the skies
and turned to the spot where the crows had taken flight. As he walked south
toward it, he retrieved the shoe.

Not
a shoe
, he realized as he gave it a second look,
it’s a
boot—an Elite boot
.

The
birds had taken off from a spot about thirty paces away. He pushed on toward
it. The rain still poured. The terrain was now downhill and steep. The mud grew
slicker and soupier as the rain hammered the earth harder than ever. Waterproof
though his clothes were, it didn’t stop the water from getting under the suit,
irritating him each time a few drops ran down his back. Not far from where he
guessed the birds had been, he found a leg. What disturbed him most was that
birds weren’t the only animal that had eaten chunks out of it. Some of the
bites looked like human teeth marks.

“Anna,”
he said over his com, “I’ve found . . . remains. It’s an Elite boot and leg and
it’s been cannibalized.”

Buh-ROOOOOM!

The
entire world exploded in light as lightning rent the air and shook the ground.
Blinded, Sammy grabbed at his face as the sky belched an ugly roar. Forgetting
himself, he stumbled as he rubbed his eyes. The mud under his boots gave way,
and he slipped and slid down the hillside. He tried to grab something, digging
his palms and heels into the earth, but even blasting wouldn’t slow him down.
The mud—and everything in it—was sliding with him.

“I’m
in trouble!” he yelled into his com. His vision was still blurry from the
lightning, but getting better. The base of the steep hill rushed up at him. Mud
covered his body, covered his legs. Only his head and neck were free.

“What’s
going on, Sammy?” Anna asked.

“I’m
caught in a mudslide!”

“Use
your—”

“I
can’t use my blasts!” he yelled. “They aren’t helping.”

The
mud washed Sammy into a small cave under the rock in a deep valley, probably
near or along one of the more commonly explored trails through the area, but he
couldn’t be sure. His guns were gone, but his com had stayed on his head. The
fissure in the rock, now rapidly filling up with mud from the slide, was low
and went at least four meters deep into the earth.

His
hand reached for the ground to push himself up. What it found instead was
another human leg. Sammy looked back.

“LIGHTS!”
he cried. The light on his com burst to life, automatically deactivating his
night vision contacts. Four dead bodies occupied the shallow space with him—a
woman, a man, and two kids. The mud continued to pour into the cramped cave.
These bodies’ faces would soon be covered.

If
this family was killed by our targets, we’ll need pictures.
He
glanced back again at the opening.
I don’t have enough time!

For
all he knew, it could take days to uncover the bodies with all the mud coming
in. His team didn’t have that kind of time. But if he didn’t get out
immediately, he’d be buried with them.

Mission
or mud, Sammy?
he asked himself. He took a deep breath and
made his choice. “Camera!” he shouted, activating the feature on his com. “You
guys better find me or I’m dead!” he said to his team.

“Got
a solid read on your position,” Anna told him. “Help is coming!”

He
took four pictures, one of each face. Satisfied he’d gotten what his team needed,
he turned and tried to plow his way out. The ceiling of the cave was too low to
stand straight up. Blast jumps were out of the question. He tried using light
foot blasts to get his feet moving, but the torrent of muck was powerful. His
legs buckled under the force, knocking him to a sitting position. The onslaught
of rain made it worse as water swirled around in puddles on top of the sloshing
mud.

It
took great effort to get back to his feet, only to be defeated once more as the
weight of more mud slammed into his chest. Sammy swore into his com as he stood
a third time on exhausted, shaky legs. “Where are you guys?”

The
mud nearly reached his neck and still it gushed into the cave. Drowning had
always seemed a terrible way to die, but drowning in mud? He couldn’t think of
anything worse.

“Almost
there, Sammy!” Dinsmore yelled. “You hang on!”

“Hang
on to what?” He had to keep his chin up so the mud stayed out of his mouth. The
flow pushed him toward the back of the cave where the bodies of the four
victims were now completely covered. He sealed his lips tightly shut as the mud
covered his mouth, tickling at the base of his nose. Crying out for help was
impossible unless he craned his head back and pressed his face against the
ceiling of the cave.

With
nothing else to do, he said a prayer.
Please not like this. Not in a muddy
cave with other dead people. Let me die in combat, not like this.

“Grab
hold of the line!” Dinsmore’s voice shouted into his ear. “If you can hear us,
you have to grab hold of that line!”

“Where’s
the line?” he tried to say, but it came out like a wet splatter. He waved his
arms back and forth through the thick muck while trying to keep his nose above
it. His legs could hardly move despite how desperately he needed them to.

Several
voices yelled his name and instructions over the com. He heard Al, Justice,
Anna, and Dinsmore. Each of them urged him onward. Finally he felt something,
but it was impossible to know exactly what. He pulled on it several times and
it didn’t give. He wrapped it around his hands as best he could and felt a
powerful force yank him through the filthy swamp of the cave. Sammy held his
breath as his head went under, now realizing how horribly cold he was. His
movement came in jerks. His lungs burned for air.

I
HAVE TO BREATHE!
he screamed in his mind. His legs kicked and
kicked but nothing happened. And then as every thought started to seem far away
and quiet, his brain forced him to breathe, and he sucked down pure mud.

 

 

 

 

19.
Birth

 

 

 

Monday July 29, 2086

 

 

 

The
Queen waited
in line at the information desk in the
Johannesburg Hall of Records. In front of her stood three geriatric women who
smelled like perfume and body powder. Behind her were two police officers armed
with their electric guns. The Queen smirked at the NWG’s stupidity with its
naïve anti-gun laws. Even after all these years, they still hadn’t repealed
them.

The
old women wanted access to a set of volumes for their genealogical research.
“We came here last week,” one of them explained in a high, breaking voice, “but
you gave us volume twenty-E. We asked for twenty-F.”

“Do
you have the required paperwork?” The middle-aged lady behind the counter
peered over her spectacles at the three elderly women, unimpressed by their age
and plight. “You need to submit forms three-four-six M and Z thirty-nine.”

“We
submitted those last time!” the middle elderly lady answered. “You gave us the
wrong volume.”

“I
didn’t!” the employee replied indignantly. “Perhaps someone else did, but you
still need to follow the policies.”

The
three women heatedly discussed the situation amongst themselves and then
requested the forms to complete. None of them looked happy as they marched off
muttering about their woes.

The
lady behind the counter next turned her attention to the Queen. “And how may I
help you, Miss?”

“Treze.
I’m Kathy Treze.” The Queen smiled prettily. “I have a request for the personal
effects and belongings of Samuel Berhane, Jr. They are currently being held in
the city archives until his release from incarceration.”

“And
what is your relation to Samuel?”

“Legal
counsel holding power of attorney,” the Queen answered. She slid a folder of
forms over the desk. The packet represented several days’ work and expensive
forgery.

The
lady looked over the packet. “These forms will have to be examined and verified
by our notary public. We will contact you once that’s been completed.”

The
Queen quelled her anger by imagining digging out this woman’s eyes with the
shards from her hideous glasses. “Very well. It’s taken me two weeks to compile
all this for you. What’s a few more days?”

The
lady at the desk scratched her temple absentmindedly, as though she wasn’t sure
if the Queen meant that as a sign of patience or sarcasm.

She
turned to leave, but one of the officers stopped her. “Did you say Samuel
Berhane?”

The
Queen gave the officer a cold expression. “It’s none of your business if I
did.”

“That
little prick shot me with my own gun a year and a half ago. Keep him locked up
as long as you can.”

“I’ll
see what I can do, Officer.”

“Yeah,
you do that.”

She
memorized the name on his badge as she walked past him to the doors. Someone
else was coming inside. A huge man with swirling and dancing tattoos running up
his arms in a colorful sleeve. They even went up his neck and circled his
cauliflower ears. He nodded at her with a leering grin as he held the door for
her, but the Queen didn’t see him anymore. She remembered Leviathan.

 

* * * * *

 

April
2058

 

Leviathan
was not the nightmarish monster that Katie had allowed herself to imagine, but
he was still an impressive mass of muscle and skin who made even Schuller look
like an average-sized man. His bald head and cauliflower ears gave the
impression he was more troll than human. However, his eyes were bright with
intelligence and lacked the arrogance of most of her other opponents. She
detected in them shrewdness and a methodical calculation, similar to what she
expected to see in her own eyes if she could somehow get hold of a mirror. It
thrilled her to be tested to such a degree.

After
two years of fighting, Katie’s body had developed and toned in ways it might
never have otherwise. She had grown a couple of centimeters since her first
arrival. Most girls stopped growing before sixteen, but Katie believed she had
willed herself to be taller. Her face, once beautiful, bore many scars, small
and large. Her muscles were firm. The locks of hair she had been so proud of as
a young girl had been shorn off to prevent her opponents from using them to
their advantage and to prevent further scarring of her scalp. She took no joy
in her appearance. It had been replaced by the ecstasy of victory.

Leviathan
stood at least half a meter taller and was about three times wider than her own
body. She instantly noticed that fat composed very little of his body mass.
Every last centimeter was built for causing traumatic damage. She thought she
had shut out all the taunting from other inmates over the last several days,
but now she remembered what some had said.


Leviathan
was a professional cage fighter before he got sent here, girly. Killed someone
in the ring on purpose
.”


Ripped
a man’s arms off and then beat him to death with them
.”


He
crushed a man’s skull with his bare hands. I saw it!


I
was in the yard when he did it!

Katie
doubted the veracity of these tales. The mammoth man couldn’t be more than two
or three years her senior despite his own impressive set of scars.

There
was no pretense of spectacle to the fight, even if it was for an imaginary
title. No one introduced fighters or carried out other familiarities. Leviathan
spoke with a couple of the guards, shifting his weight as he did so. Katie
noticed his deftness, and how it defied his size.
He must be quick, too.
She wished she could stare at him longer and admire his form, but she was told
the whistle would soon blow.

It
began like every other fight, only louder. The moment the whistle blew, the
voices of men in a frenzy roared for blood.

“Kill
her! Kill her!” one of the guards screamed.

“Get
him, girl!” shouted an inmate.

The
air was saturated with similar cries, urging the fighters to war with one
another. If Leviathan noticed the crowds, he gave no sign. He stalked
delicately toward Katie, his step as light as she’d guessed it would be. Katie
refused to give up ground, instead moving sideways, her shoes sinking slightly
into the spongy earth. When he was within range, Katie tested him with a swift
kick to the groin. He dropped his hand and knocked her foot away.

Then
he bull-rushed her. Seeing him move with such speed astonished her, even
catching her off guard.
He’s as fast as me, but three times my size!
His
body plummeted into hers, throwing her back with all the force of a small car.
She used her legs and his momentum to roll him over her.

The
moment they hit the ground, both fighters got up and went after the other. She
wanted to attack his head, but his large arm struck out, blindsiding her with
the back of his fist. Bright lights exploded in her vision and she reeled
sideways, staggering to regain her footing.

Leviathan
tripped her with a sweep and tried to trap her with his legs, but Katie slipped
out of his grasp before he could lock her. They scrambled over the ground to
obtain the better position over the other, but Katie got there first, climbing
on his back and trying to put his head into an armlock. Using his massive
weight, Leviathan stood up and fell onto his back, forcing Katie to abandon her
idea before getting crushed underneath him.

And
the crowd roared through it all.

Leviathan
rolled over to his feet as Katie tried to kick him. He caught her leg and
twisted it. Katie hit the ground hard trying to wrench her leg free from his
grasp. When that didn’t work, she flailed, catching the toe of her shoe into
the side of his knee. He winced and loosened his grip, allowing Katie to yank
her leg out.

They
faced each other again, circling, watching, waiting. The air between them was
like an undulating ball of energy, pushing and pulling at them, willing one to
move forward at the other. Leviathan threw a haymaker at Katie, but she dodged
and countered, slipping under his defense and throwing an uppercut. Leviathan
barely pulled his chin back in time. Katie followed with another kick to the
groin, again deflected. He leapt at her as though to kick her, she reacted
accordingly, but then he jerked his leg back mid-air and caught her with a
brutal punch.

The
crowd loved it.

Katie
stumbled backward, stunned. Her vision blurred until she saw two Leviathans
coming at her with a follow-up punch. She blocked his arm with her left hand
and threw a punch with her right, aiming for the space between the doubled foe.
It connected with his jaw. Then he countered and connected with her skull.
Katie stumbled back once more and knew that her defeat was imminent unless she
could turn the tide quickly. However, Leviathan pressed his advantage with a
second punch, this one only glancing. She grabbed the arm and jerked him
forward, sliding him in the soft earth. He didn’t move much, but it was enough
to get her right arm over his shoulder. As she slid it around his neck, he
elbowed her in the gut. Katie grunted and locked her legs around his stomach,
driving her fist into his head and neck again and again and again. The punches
weren’t powerful enough to do much but annoy him.

Leviathan
tried to break the grip of her right arm around his neck, but couldn’t. Then he
yanked on Katie’s leg to pull her off his back, yet she remained immovable and
continued to punch him. Finally, he grabbed her foot and twisted it. Her blows
increased in intensity as she tried to keep her ankle stiff. His head began to
bleed as she both felt and heard an awful crack.

The
pain in her broken ankle was distant and dull, nothing that could stop her from
beating this giant. He clenched his fingers around her locked arm and pulled.
Katie responded by twisting one of his cauliflower ears. He went to his knees
and slammed his back down, rolling from side to side like a baby in a cradle.
Dirt and grass and small rocks dug deeply into Katie’s cheeks. She gritted her
teeth and squeezed his neck tighter with the right arm until he began to
sputter. His face turned into a massive blood blister ready to pop and the
bleeding in the back of his head slowed. Reaching around she began to pound on
his face.

Madness
rang out around her from the guards and suits.

Leviathan
tapped the ground to signal his submission, but no one could see it because his
bulky body blocked it from view of the guards. Katie wrenched her good foot out
from underneath his body and pinned his arm down with her leg. She had other
plans.

She
hissed into his ear. “Call me the Queen or you die.”

Leviathan
stopped struggling for a moment as though he wasn’t sure he had heard her
correctly. Her arm tightened again around his neck cutting off air into his
windpipe. Purple crept up his face in place of the redness. She loosened her
grip and repeated the order.

“Queen,”
he croaked out, but even Katie could barely hear him.

Her
lock around him became vise-like, and she resumed the punching of his face.
Leviathan could do nothing but lay there and absorb her punishment. His energy
was sapped and her mercy was all he had to depend on. Meanwhile the frenzy of
the audience grew in intensity.

“Scream
it!” she shrieked at him, loosening her grip once more.

“You
are the Queen!” he bellowed. “You are the Queen! The Queeeen!”

The
crowd went silent for a moment and then roared with tumultuous approval.

“QUEEN!
QUEEN! QUEEN! QUEEN!” the masses cried out again and again.

Katie
relinquished her grip on his arm so Leviathan could tap once more, this time in
view of the guards. Katie relaxed her arms and fell back in bliss. Immediately
guards rushed forward and pulled them apart. Both she and Leviathan required
help to stand. Someone came out with wheelchairs for Katie and her defeated
opponent.

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