Awakening: The First Tale of the Trine (Trine Series Book 1) (20 page)

Aki’s bladed disks had reemerged, and he was using them to slice down any of the hovering drones who came near them. Their bulbous bodies splattered around the parking lot as Aki trotted over, cramming his bulk into the back of the car. Orak climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door and looking into the back.

Tyler was in the middle, with Aki sprawled across his lap. “Man, I thought my legs were numb before,” Tyler muttered, laying the arm with the green-tubed bracer across the dog. “You are really fluffy, you know that? I’ve never asked a dude to do this, but you wanna sleep with me tonight?”

Aki chuffed out a laugh, then sniffed at the air as Katie started the car. “It smells like alcohol and whores in here,” the dog said. “Do all human cars smell like this?”

“Only the best ones,” Tyler replied. “How do you know what ‘whores’ smell like?”

“He’s a good wingman,” Orak quipped, as Katie revved the engine, and pulled the car into the exit lane. The spider-Abbadon who had been caught in the explosion were either dead or injured, their bodies struggling fitfully amongst the wreckage of the burning vehicle and cannons. She guided the unfamiliar vehicle slowly past the debris, smiling back in the rear-view as they made it into the sunlight.

“Thank you,” Katie said. “All of you.”

“Don’t thank us,” Delmont said. “We would have been bug-food if you hadn’t helped me with that gun back there. You’ve got more stones than some soldiers I know. If you’re going to thank anyone, let it be this guy,” Delmont continued, reaching up to slap Orak’s shoulder. “Tyler and I were down and out when he came to us. These two fixed us up, and saved all three of us.”

The downtown streets near the FBI building and connecting jail were empty. In the distance, they could see blockades set up with military vehicles to seal the main roads. Delmont pointed to an alleyway near the courthouse building across the street and said, “Cut through there, to get up to another main road.”

Katie turned down the alley, and guided the car through a series of dumpsters. Coming out onto a side street, Delmont pointed over her shoulder to guide them to another road, where a line of traffic was slowly being evacuated. “Merge in with those cars, and we will slide right out of here,” Delmont said, leaning back into his seat.

“Where are we going to go, though?” Katie asked. “I mean…where do any of us go now?”

Orak turned around in the seat again, staring at Tyler. “How are you feeling?” Orak asked him.

Tyler was shivering in the seat, even with Aki’s bulk draped over him, and he was sweating. “I got the vertigo bad, man. What did you do to me back there exactly? What is this thing?” Tyler asked, lifting his arm gingerly so the needles in the bracer didn’t dig into his flesh.

“You’ll get used to it,” Orak assured him. “It’s a standard part of all Elvahn armament. The tubes contain a symbiote we derive from an algae in our oceans. They bond to chemicals in the blood and feed off of the waste created by a bodies cellular processes. In return, they respond aggressively to any trauma the host suffers, stabilizing the body and restoring the system.”

“Man, you know I appreciate this, but…don’t you kind of need it?” Tyler asked.

“I made you a promise,” Orak said. “Don’t be too quick to thank me. The colony in those tubes was mixed with my blood. You’ll be all right, but you’re not going to feel very well for the next few hours, until your body adjusts.”

“I’m not gonna get some space AIDS or some shit am I?” Tyler asked with concern.

“Space AIDS,” Aki chuffed, looking up at Tyler. “That will go well with your galactic gonorrhea and herpes constellation.”

“Et tu, Doggy?” Tyler sighed dramatically.

“You’re going to be fine, we promise,” Aki wheezed at him, before laying his head back down. “While you’re just sitting there, scratch my ears though, will you?”

Orak stared at the line of traffic thoughtfully, then turned back to Tyler. “You mentioned yesterday when I showed you the ‘deathnote’ that your home contained a gun. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, man. My dad was a big collector. We’ve got enough guns for an…apocalypse...” Tyler trailed off.

“Good,” Orak said. “Guide us to your home. We need to rest, and find out the entirety of our current situation. Aki and I must figure out what happened to Zion, and how widespread the Abbadon presence is on your planet before we can make any kind of plan.” Turning his gaze to Delmont, Orak continued. “We will need those weapons, too. I just hope there are enough guns in your world for what comes next.”

Saturday, August 4th 09:40 EST

President Clark, Washington, D.C.

A red hologram of the entire Earth was being projected over the counsel table in the Situation Room. The globe was peppered with green markers that continued to appear, as new reports of Abbadon activity were received. President Clark considered asking the aides to change the color scheme, as the current lighting was entirely too festive for the destruction that it was denoting.

Before he could make his request, Scott sat down beside him at the head of the table. “We’ve got more updates, sir,” Scott said without preamble.

President Clark put down the tablet that was still loading the previous reports. “I haven’t been able to reach Helen. How is my family?” he asked.

Scott blinked in surprise. “They’re fine, sir, secure at South Bunker. The Pentagon has taken over cell and satellite communications for our current military needs. We will get a direct line set up to them immediately for you.”

The President nodded wearily. “Thank you, Scott. What updates do we have from the states?”

“Sir, we have verified reports of these Abbadon appearing at state and federal prisons in every state and territory. We have unverified reports that every country in the world is being targeted the same way.” Scott waved a hand towards the cheerfully glowing globe spinning lazily over the table. “We’re adding new sightings constantly.”

“Have we regained any of the ground they have taken? Have our efforts to coordinate a response been effective at all?” The President asked.

“Yes, sir. Local police and SWAT teams were able to respond to every appearance at the prisons in every location. Unfortunately, as you know, their initial attempts to secure the prison facilities were met with heavy resistance by a variety of unknown life forms. Our military preparations were effective, however, and even now we are getting updates as our troops make contact.”

“What are they finding? What kind of resistance are they encountering?” President Clark asked. “Do we have any footage, any information about these creatures?”

“Very little, sir,” Scott replied. “When our troops responded, in almost every case there was no further resistance. These ‘Abbadon’ had already withdrawn. Sir, it appears that their plan was never to hold the facilities where they made their initial assaults. Instead, from all the reports we’re receiving, the prisons have been completely abandoned.”

“Abandoned? These creatures just appeared and then left? Did they do anything, take anything?” the President demanded.

Scott grimaced in chagrin. “I should have phrased that a bit better, sir. The prisons are
completely
abandoned. The Abbadon are gone, as are all of the guards…and every one of the prisoners.”

“All of them…?” the President said incredulously. “Scott, there are over two million people incarcerated in the United States alone! Where the hell are they?”

“We don’t know, sir. Also, when you include the guards and all the support staff in the prison system…we estimate the number of missing to be closer to two and a half million.”

“Two and a half million…” President Clark whispered. “That’s more than the number of dead from the wars.”

“Which wars, sir?” Scott asked.

“All of them, Scott. Every damned one America has ever fought. On the first day…” the President trailed off, staring again at the infuriatingly merry globe hanging over them.

“Remember, sir, it’s not just us…the entire world is in this with us.” Scott said. “While these Abbadon have already withdrawn from every other prison, General Hubbard reports that they are still in contact with them in Greensboro, where this began.”

“How are they faring there?” President Clark asked.

“The only county jail the Abbadon assaulted was the one located across the street from the FBI Headquarters in Greensboro, sir. General Hubbard reports that he had a squad stationed with Director Spencer in order to assist in guarding the Elvahn, and the three civilians that had been targeted. When the Abbadon attacked, FBI Headquarters was overrun. The Elvahn named Zion was secured by our troops, and General Hubbard reports that he was instrumental in helping our forces organize a coordinated retreat, minimizing their losses. This Zion showed them how to attack the creatures, and helped rescue most of the staff on site. Unfortunately, sir, the three civilians who had been targeted, as well as the other aliens, the pair called Oraki, are unaccounted for at this time.”

“Sir!” an aide said, rushing over to Scott and President Clark. “We’re receiving a call from the FBI Director in Greensboro on the secure line.”

“Put him through, now!” President Clark ordered, turning to the screen on the near wall. He pulled his chair closer to the camera, and motioned Scott out of the frame.

A moment later, the screen turned blue as the call connected, and then Director Spencer came into frame. Or at least, the President thought, it resembled the Director. His face was too close to the camera, so that his head filled the frame. His eyes were glassy and he stared at it slack-jawed before he slowly stepped back, bringing his naked torso into clear view.

Director Spencer’s clothing had been stripped away. He was covered only by a three pronged metallic brace clamped onto his badly shaven head, which stretched down his spine to wrap back up around his genitalia. Metal bars forming a cage wrapped around his torso from the spinal brace, the entire device ripping at his flesh with every motion.

The Situation Room fell silent as everyone present took in the Director’s ghastly figure. A collective gasp resounded from the assemblage as one of the towering, spider-Abbadon appeared beside the Director on the screen.

“Mr. President,” Director Spencer said in a strained voice. “We are the Abbadon. We have appointed your Director Spencer to act as our translator. Please forgive his appearance. He was unwilling to accept the post without reconditioning.”

Regaining his composure, President Clark stared at the creature lurking on the edges of the screen, and addressed the Abbadon directly. “I am President Christopher Clark. Humanity has long dreamed of the day when we would finally encounter other residents of our vast universe. Now, you have come. You have come to us not with a hand extended in friendship, but with your fangs bared like filthy scavengers, snapping at our flanks and retreating. What do you want from us? Where have you taken our citizens?”

The Abbadon scuttled around behind the body of the Director, as he once again began to speak in a pained voice. “You mistake us, President Clark. We have not ‘retreated.’ When you humans are hungry, you go to a store to pick up your needs. You do not live at the store, and neither shall we. We picked up our needs, and have taken them to our home.”

President Clark gritted his teeth and snarled, “Our people are not a commodity for you to dispense with as you will!”

“Then why do you treat them that way?” the former Director snarled back. “With the barest of effort we have captured
millions
of your kind…because you had already herded them for us. They serve no purpose as they are, other than to feed your system that profiteers off their captivity. Now, they will feed
us.
Understand this. There is only one crime amongst our kind. Non-compliance with the Will. There is only one punishment for non-compliance. Reconditioning. Every one of these prisoners we have taken has been found guilty of non-compliance. Now, we shall take them for reconditioning.”

President Clark was taken aback by the creature’s tone, and its condemnation. “What do you mean, ‘reconditioning’?” he asked. “Like what you have done to Director Spencer?”

“No,” the former Director said. “Director Spencer has knowledge that will be useful as our ambassador to your people. The others will be reconditioned to serve the Will of the Abbadon. If they will not
serve
the Will, then they will be reconditioned to
feed
the Body.”

“Our people will not stand for this monstrous act of aggression!” President Clark roared. “We will rise against you, not just America, but the entire human race! You have no conception of what you have done, or the beast you have awakened!”

The former Director chuckled, as the spider-Abbadon swam in and out of focus behind him. “We
do
have an idea of the beast we have awakened. It is a treacherous beast, this humanity. It is self-serving, ignorant, and
toothless
. Which is why we contact you today, Mr. President. We have done your society the greatest of favors! We have emptied out your prisons, globally, and taken all those you have deemed worthless and discarded from your tables…to take to ours. We have withdrawn entirely, except here, at our ‘embassy.’ Here, we will remain, and with us we will have a Bore.”

Holding up a hand to forestall the President’s questions, the former Director continued. “We will hold a presence here at our embassy, with the Director here as our voice. The Bore we will leave will be a portal to our world, and to all of your people that we have taken. We leave you this gift, with a sincere invitation. Come to us, if you dare. Tell every leader of every country in your world that you Americans, within your sovereign borders, have a portal to the enemy. Tell all the world to come to you with their armies, and their weapons, and land them on your shores. Assemble the greatest military excursion humanity has ever seen…and send them through to us. Bring your supposed ‘best of the best’ to come and rescue those you have deemed the worst of your kind. We welcome you, with open arms,” the former Director threw his arms wide in a grotesque mockery, as the spider behind him did the same.

President Clark stood speechless, flushed with rage. The former Director began to laugh, a high, screaming cackle forced from him by the torturous frame enveloping his body. “We will speak again, Mr. President, to see how the other leaders of your world react to your plight. We leave you now, with one last request. Please tell the Elvahn ‘Zion’ we send our warmest regards for his assistance.”

‘Transmission terminated,’ flashed briefly as the screen flickered blue, then faded. President Clark sagged back into his chair, feeling as though he had aged a decade in the last ten minutes. “Scott, you said that this ‘Zion’ had been rescued in the initial evacuation, correct?”

“Yes, sir. He is with General Hubbard’s forces now.”

“Get them both on the line immediately,” President Clark said. “This ‘Zion’ told us that his people never had the heart to finish eradicating these monsters. Humanity might not have fangs, Scott…but heart, we have that in abundance. While I speak with the General, I want you to request a special session of congress. We’re going to need a formal declaration of war.”

To Be Continued
…