Armageddon (11 page)

“ ‘Then another horse came out, a fiery red one,’ ” Bob ranted, recalling the ancient text. “ ‘Its rider was given power to take peace from the Earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a large sword!’ ”

My turn to nod. I had seen Number 2’s sword, too.

And if this really was tomorrow, I had lost more than a day.

I had also lost Number 2. The second-most-lethal alien outlaw on Terra Firma (or what was left of it) had at least a twenty-four-hour jump on me.

I needed to talk with Xanthos. After all, it was my spiritual advisor who had advised me to be on the lookout for a red horse. Maybe he could drop me a few more hints. Like how to end Number 2’s world by giving him his own personal Armageddon.

“Nice meeting you, Bob,” I said. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“When? There will be no more tomorrows!”

“Well, then maybe I’ll see you
yesterday
, because that’s where I’m going.”

Hey, I may not know how to pull a fast-forward without someone sucker-punching me in the chin, but I’m an old hand at time-traveling
backward
!

IN AN INSTANT, I was back in Kentucky—and back in time.

In fact, Mel had her cell phone out.

“Wow,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”

Apparently I had picked up a few extra minutes and landed in yesterday
before
Mel had gone into the horse barn to make her phone call to me in New York. If I had yet to save the world from the wrath of Number 2, at least I was saving Mel some minutes on her dad’s monthly phone bill.

Mel threw her arms around my neck and hugged me like she never wanted to let me go—
or
to let me go anywhere ever again. To be honest, the idea of mucking horse stalls with Mel for the rest of my life sounded like the most totally awesome thing I have ever imagined and, as you know, I can imagine some amazingly incredible stuff.

I savored the moment. For a full five seconds.

“So, how about you don’t do that again,” Mel said as we
came out of our embrace. “
One
Daniel is hard enough to keep up with.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“You mean other than being worried sick about a certain Alien Hunter?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fine. Dad says we’re totally safe here. His whole squad is camped out in the house, in the barn, out in the fields. And they’re decked out with all kinds of ray guns and junk they’ve confiscated from extraterrestrial outlaws.”

I had a hunch I had already seen most of the alien weaponry they were armed with at some point in time, when it had been aimed at
me
.

“I need to check in with Xanthos,” I told Mel.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Joe.

Yes, my “squad” was in Kentucky, too. Joe was chowing down on a bucket of Extra Crispy KFC, a box of Colonel’s Crispy Strips, and a tub of Popcorn Chicken. Emma was over in the paddock, petting a pony. Willy and Dana were in the barnyard, standing beside Joe.

Holding hands.

“What’s next, Daniel?” Dana asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

I knew Dana wasn’t just asking about what was going to happen next in our battle against Number 2. She was wondering what came next for
us
.

Before I could answer, she said, “Think about it. In the meantime, Willy and I are going for a walk.”

“We are?” Willy looked pleasantly surprised.

Dana cuddled up closer to him. “You want to see what’s behind that horse barn, don’t you?”

Willy’s face went beet red. “I guess. I mean, if it’s okay with you, Daniel.”

“Sure,” I said. “We have time. I need to check in with Xanthos, work up a plan.”

“A plan might be good,” Dana said, giving me a look. Then she leaned up to whisper something in Willy’s ear.

His face went from beet red to I-just-ate-a-pound-of-jalapeño-poppers red.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked as I watched Dana and Willy, strolling hand in hand, disappear behind the barn.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You don’t mind Dana and Willy’s nonstop PDA activity?”

“That? Nah. I’m cool. I couldn’t care less about them. Hey, I have a world to save, remember?”

Mel faked a smile and acted like she believed me.

Heck, I didn’t believe me, either.

XANTHOS WAS LYING down in his stall, his head fully erect, his eyes locked on mine.

I was sitting yoga-style with my legs crossed in a corner.

Our minds were totally linked.

Tell me about Number 2
, I said telepathically.

What is it you would know, Daniel?

Anything and everything.

Xanthos snorted a horse-sized sigh through both of his nostrils.
What have you learned, my brudda? What have you seen?

Um, in case you don’t watch TV, Number 2 is out there destroying the entire planet, and from what I’ve seen so far, I don’t think he’s giving free passes to horses. So if you don’t mind, can we do this a little more expeditiously?

Do you mean faster?

Yes! For starters, how about you don’t answer every question I ask with another question!

Do you think that would help your cause?

Yes! Who is Number 2?

He is one who calls himself Abbadon. The Destroyer. He is known in some sacred texts to be the king of tormenting locusts and the angel of the bottomless pit.

Okay, I’ve seen the locusts. But trust me, this Abbadon is no angel.

You speak true. You see, Daniel, you, your father, your mother, and even your friends outside, you came to this planet to protect it. Abbadon, on the other hand, came here to destroy it.

Wait a second—did my dad and Abbadon come to this planet at the same time? Is this some sort of yin-yang cosmic balancing act? Is the universe somehow trying to keep things even-steven by tossing in one creator and one destroyer?

Xanthos shook his head.
No, my yute. Abbadon has been around for a long, long year—stirring up trouble, fomenting chaos, turning humans against one another.

I remembered the people mauling one another in New York City. The street gang in Moscow. The Chinese stampeding to board the subway trains. All those humans were seriously lacking in kindness, compassion, and goodwill. In other words, Abbadon had successfully stripped them of anything resembling humanity.

I stood up, dusted straw off my jeans.

Okay—what do we do next? How do we destroy The Destroyer?

Xanthos closed his eyes. This time when he sighed, I felt his sadness.
Why do you wish to do as the evil one has
done? Don’t bury your thoughts under his vision. Flee from hate, mischief, and—

Wait a second. So far, this Abbadon has totally wiped out New York, Washington, London, Moscow, Beijing, and just about everywhere in between! And you want me to flee?

No, Daniel. I want you to be true to who you are: Create where others destroy. Build up what they tear down.

Fine. I’ll work on that, right after I tear down this Abbadon.

Very well. It is your river to cross, brudda.

Suddenly I had a thought.
Is this why The List is so sketchy on Number 2? Did Abbadon destroy all the intel we’d gathered on him during his centuries of troublemaking here on Earth?

Perhaps.

Thanks. That’s really, really helpful.
I was being sarcastic.
Some advisor you turned out to be.

For your spirit, Daniel. Your soul. We each have our role and must play it as written.

I took a deep breath. Counted to ten, then to twenty. I knew I was letting my anger get the best of me, and when I’m about to lose my temper I can’t create anything, not even those cheap, flavorless globules that cost a quarter in gumball machines.

Truth is, I was mad at the situation, not at Xanthos.

Okay. As my spiritual advisor, what would you suggest I do next?

Xanthos rose up on his sturdy legs. When he whinnied merrily, I knew we were still “bredren”—brothers in unity.

Perhaps dinner with your friends, yah, mon?

What? Number 2 or Abbadon or whatever he calls himself is still out there, still knocking down skyscrapers, and you want me to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight?

Abbadon has gone underground.

You’re sure?

Do not worry, Daniel. You will face him again. When the time comes.

And when’s that?

Ah, this I do not know. However, the next time you will have no need to hunt Abbadon down. When all is in readiness, he will come for you!

I DID AS Xanthos advised: I sat down to dinner that night with Mel, Agent Judge, Joe, Emma, Willy, and Dana.

And by “Willy and Dana” I mean
Willy-n-Dana
, like you’d see carved into the bark of a tree or graffitied on a small-town water tower.

They were sitting side by side, their chairs pushed a little closer together than all the others around the knotty-pine farmhouse table. From the grin on Dana’s face and the giddy bewilderment on Willy’s, I think they might have been playing footsie under the table, too.

As if that weren’t bad enough, I once again noticed the slender white line running from Dana’s eye to her chin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make that scar disappear!

Mel reached over to touch my hand. I guess she’d been watching me watching them.

“Is everything okay, Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“You look like you’re here but your mind is off somewhere else.”

“Yeah, buddy,” said Joe. “You look a little out to lunch, which is too bad, because this
dinner
is awesome. What do you call this soup, Agent Judge?”

“That’s Kentucky Burgoo,” replied Mel’s dad.

“It’s so thick, I could stand my spoon up in it—if I wasn’t busy using my spoon to eat it. What’s in it?”

“Mixed meat. Beef, lamb, pork, chicken. Tomatoes and celery and a couple of potatoes. Spices and Worcestershire sauce.”

“Don’t worry,” Mel said to Emma. “I made yours and mine with just the vegetables, and none of the chicken or beef stock.”

“I appreciate it,” said Emma. “As do the cows, the lambs, the pigs, and the chickens.”

We all had a chuckle over that.

“Well, don’t blame me, Emma,” said Agent Judge. “It’s my late wife’s recipe.” When he said that, his eyes looked a little sad.

“So, Daniel,” asked Willy, “what did your horse say we should do next?”

I gestured toward the dinner table, laden with plates and serving dishes. “This.”

“You’re kidding,” said Dana. “He told you to eat Kentucky Burgoo?”

“Basically.”

“Best spiritual advisor ever,” proclaimed Joe. “Did he also suggest the Derby pie for dessert? Because it looks
amazing
. Like a chocolate-walnut candy bar wrapped inside piecrust!”

“He also told me that when the time comes, Abbadon will bring the fight to me.”

“Abba-dabba who?” said Mel.

“Abbadon. That’s the name Number 2’s given himself, so I did a quick Google search on it.” I tapped my head, indicating my built-in Wi-Fi access. “In the Book of Revelation, at the very end of the Bible, Abbadon is described as the king of the bottomless pit and the leader of a legion of beasts with locust wings and scorpion tails.”

Dana put down her spoon. “Like those things that attacked us on the bridge back in D.C.?”

“And probably would’ve torn us all to pieces,” said Emma, “if Mel hadn’t blasted them with those ultrasonic waves.”

Mel shrugged. “I improvised. You guys would’ve done the same thing.”

Dana was looking uncomfortable, so I figured it was time to change the subject. “Agent Judge? I’m a little worried about security. If Abbadon is going to bring the fight to me, he and his troops could come here.”

“Rest easy. My men have set up an impenetrable perimeter around the entire property.”

He gestured toward the matrix of high-tech security screens built into the dining room wall. We could see FBI agents armed with heavy alien weaponry patrolling the white fence line of the horse ranch.

The hulking navy cook came in from the kitchen, sporting a hand blaster strapped on under the strings of his stain-splotched apron. “You guys still have room for dessert, right?” said the chef.

“You bet,” said Joe.

“Always,” added Mel.

“Good,” said the cook. “Because an army marches on its stomach.”

“And retreats on its butt,” said Joe.

We had another laugh and, somehow, everybody at the table, including the cook, who sat down to join us, managed to find just enough room for a slice or two of Derby pie.

Things stayed pretty quiet until Joe scraped the pie plate clean with his fork and the rest of us leaned back in our chairs to digest the feast.

“Was the pie your wife’s recipe, too?” asked Emma.

“Yes,” said Agent Judge softly. “It was.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Emma said to both Agent Judge and Mel.

“Thanks, Emma,” said Mel.

“Did she pass away recently?”

Mel shook her head. “No. A long time ago.”

Agent Judge didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he turned to me. “I guess that’s something else you and Mel have in common.”

“Sir?”

“You both lost your mothers at an early age.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t ready for what he said next.

“And they were both murdered by the same beast.”

“Number 1?”

Mel nodded.

“When he was finished at your house,” she said, “he came to ours.”

TO MAKE ABSOLUTELY certain Agent Judge and Mel didn’t suffer any more losses because of me and my presence under their roof, I took the gang on an after-dinner stroll around the ranch.

“I love taking a long walk after dinner,” Emma said, drinking in the cool night air. “The sky is so crisp and clear. Look at all those stars.”