Haywire (45 page)

Exhausted and bloody, Shawn dragged himself over to Artemis. The infection sizzled through him as he slumped beside her.

Her head turned toward his slowly, and when she looked at him her eyes and lips were pale. “I’m sor-r-r-ry this happened,” she whispered. “You wo-would have made a hell of a Titan.”

He touched her face and brushed her hair back. Her skin was cold, and chips of metal fell from her cheeks. “I am a-a-a Titan,” he said, smiling.

When she laughed, flecks of blood peppered her lips. “I g-guess you are, Shawn. You earned it. We all-all did.”

“
You’re the he-he-hero,” he told her. His eyes burned with the tears that wanted to spill down his face, but he didn’t want her to see that. He wanted her to know his strength, to feel it in that moment they had together. “You sa-a-aved humanity, Arte… Rachel. You saved humanity twice. You d-d-did damn good.”

Artemis smiled, patted his hand, and then closed her eyes. He felt her last heartbeat pump through her body, and then she was no more. His tears fell after that, and he was glad he still had enough of his senses left to feel them. He wept for the Titan at his feet, for the warriors that had fallen, and for himself.

When he closed his eyes he thought of his mother, his father, and then he thought of Ilona. He hoped she would understand. The future they had talked about having together would have to be with someone else, but he was okay with that. He’d done what he’d had to do, and because of it they all had a future to look forward to.

As Zeus flowed across the floor and over his body it felt like cool water, and he smiled as it washed him away into darkness.

Everything was in ruin. For as far as the eye could see, buildings were reduced to rubble, homes were little more than blasted craters, and the streets that ran between them were broken and pitted. Even the sky, which historical records indicated had once been a dome of blue and white perfection, was now red and scared with dark clouds that floated like claw marks overhead. It was a scene of utter devastation.

“
This is where it happened, Daddy?” a small voice asked.

Shawn looked down at the little three-year-old boy standing next to him, a boy with almond shaped eyes a familiar shade of blue, and he couldn’t resist tousling his child’s soft red hair with hands clear of metal thanks to the Zeus that had returned him to normal.

“
Yes, Ethan. This is where the Hezrin War ended.”

Rocks crunched under slow moving feet, the steps shaky but constant. A second set of steps echoed them, these more steady and sure. Their paces were synchronized from long years of marriage.

“
I knew Crucible was going to be terrible to see,” his mother said as she came to rest a few meters away, “but I never could have imagined… this.”

“
Better here than on Earth, though, right?” Alex asked, gripping his wife’s shoulders.

His mother nodded, but then shook her head in slow swings. “So many ruined worlds. So many deaths.”

Shawn took another look at the blasted landscape before turning toward her “As terrible as it is, people need to see it. The Hezrin are to blame for what happened here, but we have some weight to bear too. People need to see it.”

“
They will,” his mother replied. “It’s taken a long time to make our way to this place, following one ruined planet after another, but we made it, and future generations will know what it is we found. Hopefully it’ll never have to happen again.”

“
I sure hope not,” Ethan said, his blue eyes wide and unblinking as he looked around. “This place is
dirty
.”

Shawn laughed. It was probably the first happy sound the wind of Crucible had carried in a long while. “It sure is. Come on, let’s get you back to your mother.”

He bent to pick his son up. The boy was a little heavier because of the large planet’s increased gravity, and as he lifted him a sharp pain ran through his abdomen. It was an old pain, but one that never ceased to take his breath away.

“
You okay?” Alex asked. His step-father walked over and lifted the toddler in his arms, but he didn’t hand him over until Shawn nodded.

“
Yeah, I’m used to it.”

Alex smirked. “A wound like that is something you never get used to, no matter how many years go by.”

His mother shuffled over, her legs not as strong as they once were, her hair with more gray in it than red, and she hugged her son and grandson both. “I’m just glad to still have you. I was so scared that Zeus would… would…”

Alex wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders, and Shawn leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“
It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay.”

But Shawn knew that, for his mother at least, it would never be okay. He’d nearly died on that asteroid. The doctors who later examined him said he was lucky the Titan nanites had been in his system for such a short time. Had he been a Titan for just a few days longer he would have been beyond saving. The years of physical therapy afterward had been tough, but he’d survived, recovered, and made something of his life. And now, with Crucible finally found, he could work toward the future, because frankly he was damn tired of the past.

“
Hey, Mommy!” Ethan yelled, his thick little arm up and waving furiously.

Down the hill to the south, Ilona stood next to their landing shuttle with a child in her arms. She returned the wave with equal energy and love. Rachel, their daughter, smiled and wiggled like a bug in her blanket.

Shawn’s mother opened her mouth to say something, but a science shuttle screamed by overhead, drowning her out. He didn’t know if it was filled with archeologists, anthropologists, or xenobiologists, but he was sure that whoever was on it was overjoyed at the thought of all the new discoveries they were about to make. They had reached the crown jewel of Titan studies, and no egghead was going to be left behind.

After the shuttle’s engines faded, his mother said, “Well, I think I’ve seen all I need to see for now. Let the young ones get on their knees and sift through the dirt. I prefer cataloging in the comfort of my desk chair, thank you very much.”

“
And not for nothing,” Alex said, “but I’m hungry.”

Ethan clapped his hands and bounced in his father’s arms. “Mom made lunch! Mom made lunch!”

Shawn’s mother laughed and pinched her grandson’s cheeks. The little boy moved his head to avoid it, but he still smiled and bounced.

“
Oh, and what did she make for us?” she asked. “If you say peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I’ll scream.”

“
PBJ!” Ethan shouted with a wide grin. “I want PBJ!”

Shawn’s mother sighed and walked down the hill. “You have got to teach your wife to make something other than sandwiches and soup. A person needs more than that, especially a growing boy.”

Her words drifted down the hill with her, fading into silence, but Shawn wasn’t in a hurry to catch up. He enjoyed watching her, enjoyed seeing Alex care for her, and enjoyed knowing they were happy. For one brief moment in his life he’d been prepared to die to make that happen. But he hadn’t died, and every breath he took after that was a gift. He worked hard to remember all that was wonderful about his life. He was alive, and so long as he could love he would love wholeheartedly.

Holding his son tightly to him, Shawn turned and walked down the hill to join his wife and daughter. Despite the heavy gravity, his steps were as light as air.

The End

There are a lot of people who’ve helped me on my path to getting this story in your hands, and I wish that I had room enough and time to list you all personally. Perhaps that’s impetus enough to get another novel written and published. Be that as it may, there are a few people I’d like to thank.

First off, the old Wing Commander Pilots Club from back in the day on AOL. You guys did more to push me and educate me about writing than any class or teacher ever did, and I appreciate all of it. I’m the writer I am today – for better or worse – in large part to you guys. Specifically I’d like to thank Jason Mack, April Nagy, Winston Crutchfield, and Robert Buckles.

I’d also like to thank Mark Larson. Once upon a time he and I worked in an office together, and often when I should have been working I was actually typing away at my stories, and he suffered through every loud keystroke and pondered thought. This novel was started in that office, its opening lines clacked into his ears, and I’m thankful that he put up with it and me. You’re a good guy, Mark, no matter what everyone else said.

I’d be remiss (and who wants to be that?) if I didn’t also thank Mike Hoover. Mike, you’ve got an eagle’s eye for catching mistakes, so I appreciate you taking time out to give the manuscript a once over so that I didn’t look completely incompetent. You helped make what could have been Frankenstein’s monster look seamless. Now if I could just get you to switch to a red pen instead of blue.

I’d like to also thank my editor and publisher, David Wood. Your edits made this book stronger, and your notes made me a better writer. Thank you for seeing something in it worth publishing. And thanks for being a damn nice guy on top of it. The publishing world is a strange place, full of pitfalls and perils, but you’ve been honest and fair with me at every turn. All writers should be so lucky to have you as their literary sherpa. I know I am.

Lastly, thanks to you, the reader. A book is just a bunch of words strung together on a piece of paper or on an electronic screen, but it becomes a story when you pick it up and read it. Thank you so much for spending your time with me. Hopefully you enjoyed it and one day we’ll get to do it again. I look forward to that.

Justin Macumber is an author of speculative fiction and horror. When he is not hard at work on his next story he co-hosts the popular
Dead Robots’ Society
podcast. He and his lovely wife live in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex along with their motley pack of dogs and cats that they think of as their children. Visit him online at justinmacumber.com and deadrobotssociety.com.