Holly knew the load, the same she’d flown the last sorties with. Military life, though, never double-check when you could quadruple-check.
It had to be posturing, she figured. A message to the Children of Darwin and all the other terrorists out there. Sure, you may be able to take out a few trucks, but can you do this? There hadn’t been a declared war since the Second World War, which meant that most of the time, military assets were more about communication than they were about offense. A way for the politicians to talk to one another, play their games of high-stakes poker.
Thing was, who were they talking to here? The Holdfast was a bunch of kids living in the desert, pretending it was a new world instead of a bunch of rocks. Fine with her, so why the full load? Each Wyvern carried enough ordnance to wipe out half of Tesla. Flying a full wing of them over the scrub town was like bringing an A-bomb to a backyard brawl.
“Any questions?”
Holly looked around. Wanted to raise her hand and ask, Sir, respectfully, what the hell are we doing here? She wouldn’t, of course, but maybe someone would. The nineteen other pilots in this room were among the best in the world, and that came with a hot-shot sense of entitlement.
If it had been Major Barnes giving the briefing, maybe one of them would have. But the vice chief of the air wing was another matter. They all sat ramrod straight and steely-eyed, ready to snap salutes and mount up.
It was only ten minutes later, as the cockpit windscreen closed and her HUD glowed to life, that it occurred to Captain Holly Roge to wonder if that was exactly why it had been Riggs giving the briefing.
CHAPTER 40
Soren drifted.
He couldn’t try for nothingness, not in a moving Escalade with the radio news in the background, announcers practically selling war bonds; not with three strangers checking their weapons and talking in rough voices. Nothingness would have to wait. For now, he simply leaned back in the seat and let his eyes go soft. Let the world wash over him, past him, a leaf on a river swept away in the current.
He understood John’s decision to send Bryan VanMeter along. The situation was fluid, and if Ethan Park had moved, they would need to hunt him. Better to have a team that could talk to people, could persuade and bribe and convince, things Soren could not do. Still, he felt the presence of the three soldiers, the testosterone charge and rough competence grating at him, making the moments longer.
You need to go back into exile. All this noise. You’re losing your nothingness.
Soon. John would have his war. The grand cause and glorious battle meant nothing to Soren, but he hoped that his friend was happy for it.
For himself, he hoped only that Samantha would come with him. There hadn’t been time to say good-bye, the kind of irony that had never amused him. The flight here had been on a military jet, as fast an option as existed, but with his time sense, he had perceived it as more than thirty hours long. A day and a half on a plane, and yet no time to see his love.
You are a leaf, and the current will carry you away.
VanMeter briefed his team, and Soren tried to ignore it.
“Cuyahoga Valley National Park . . .”
“No neighbors in sight, but . . .”
“Tactical advance, two front, one rear . . .”
Out the window, faded pines scraped at a gray sky. The wind stirred dead leaves. The knife was so light that he had to concentrate to feel it, a good meditative exercise. Be the muscles of your chest, be the skin against your shirt. He wondered how Nick Cooper had survived. Remembered the look in the man’s eyes as Soren’s elbow met his son’s temple, the raw agony in it, as damaging a blow as piercing his heart had been. Idly, he wondered what it would be like to have a child, to have created life. If that would be the thing that brought meaning to the endlessness, or if it would only make things worse.
“Okay,” the one called Donovan said, “but why all the trouble? He’s an egghead. Let’s just roll up, do the thing, get out.”
“You’re a hump, you know that?” VanMeter grimaced. “We flew here on a military jet. That pilot was a sleeper, an asset, and John burned him to get us here. Hell, can you even imagine the amount of influence he’s had to use to find this guy, with the DAR looking for him?” The soldier shook his head. “I don’t know how he did it, and I don’t know why John wants the guy dead. All I know is that he needs this done, so we’re going to do it right, we’re going to do it clean, and we’re going to do it completely. You get me?”
“Completely? You mean—”
“Orders are to eliminate everybody there. Wife and baby too.”
“Baby?” Donovan sucked air through his teeth. “Shit.”
“Makes you feel better, they’re normals, all three.” VanMeter turned to Soren. “Sir?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“We’re less than a minute out. Anything you want to add?”
The trees had grown denser, the driveways between them fewer and farther between. He could see the one where Dr. Ethan Park and his family waited.
Soren said, “You’re weak.”
Soon, this tiresome walk through the world would end, and he could return to his nothing.
“I’ll kill the child.”
CHAPTER 41
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .”
Late afternoon, and already the sky was starting to fade, cold clouds going fat and dim. They had a fire burning and news on the TV, an actual old-school television, not a tri-d. Ethan was splitting his attention between the horror show in Wyoming and the sight of his wife crooning lullabies to their daughter. It was a jarring juxtaposition, footage of soldiers and tanks and jets, of missiles being fueled and politicians thumping the podium, set against the two loves of his life, his daughter safe and warm and drifting off on a tide of song.
“You make me happy, ev-er-y day.”
They did a lot of singing to Violet. Sang the “Naked Baby” song as they got her into her bath (to the tune of “Alouette”: “Naked baby, naked naked baby, naked baby, naked baby time”). Sang free-form about toys and breakfast and pooping. And early on, Amy had declared that they would have their own version of “You Are My Sunshine,” one that addressed certain thematic difficulties.
Now the news was showing footage of Cleveland. If it hadn’t been identified, he wouldn’t have recognized it. Fire had swept through most of downtown, and what was left was all gray people in gray clothes digging through rubble, ragged families on street corners, and squads of riot police locking shields.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.”
Ethan’s eyes wandered from screen to family, family to screen, but a part of him, the part he would have pointed to as his real self if anyone had asked, wasn’t really taking either in. It was thinking about what Amy had said earlier.
The fact that she was right was so obvious it didn’t bear thinking about. He and Abe had rushed foolishly into places angels feared to tread, and while they had found answers there, they had also made enemies. Funny that the idea had never occurred to him before. Even when the DAR had shown up at his house about their research, he’d asked Bobby Quinn to leave like the agent was a census-taker. In hindsight, it was all so clear: the DAR must have been watching them, watching from before Abe disappeared. And they would never stop looking for him, never. Not with what he knew.