Dimly she heard one of them tuning in to a radio broadcast."…authorities report that a terrorist organization has gained access to the bioweapons. The White House has refused to comment on leaked reports suggesting that the virus did not originate in Antarctica, as first reported, but in Iraq. Nevertheless…"
Someone touched her shoulder. "You okay?"
Tall and strong and reeking of life that was oh, so sweet-if she could just reach out her hand and take what she desperately needed from him-
"Don't touch me!" she hissed, jerking back. Without conscious thought she was running down the ramp, past Teyla, and out into the forest. The path was clear, clearer in her mind than it had ever been before. The smell of life surrounded her, but she had to get away, away from the Marines, people-humans, because she wasn't entirely human, was she?
Hold on. Don 't leave. We're coming for you, to help you.
The voice in her mind that had plagued her for hours was growing stronger now. As much as she wanted to trust it, she couldn't hold on, couldn't wait, had to escape.
"Rebecca! "
Another voice-her radio-telling her to stop, to wait. She couldn't obey John, either. If she tried, she wouldn't be able to resist. She'd turn on him and feed..
Stumbling toward the parking lot, her gaze fell on a Land Cruiser: the rangers' vehicle, dusted with snow, window open. The keys were still in the ignition.
"Rebecca, damn it, wait!"
Rebecca, wait!
She ignored the voices in her mind-they were in her mind, weren't they?
Hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. Heat and strength and desire surged up in her so forcefully that she whirled around and aimed a blow directly at John's head. He fell, hard, and didn't move.
Control must keep control!
She threw open the door of the Land Cruiser and tossed his motionless body across the seat. Climbing inside, she turned the key and wrenched the vehicle into gear. The lights weren't needed; her eyes, or maybe her mind, saw everything.
Don 't leave!
Gravel sprayed up behind her as the tires nearly lost their grip. New voices joined the cacophony. More people, more food, coming for her. She ripped off the radio and heaved it out of the window, speeding down the dirt road lightly frosted with snow.
They were all around her. Soldiers and Marines, just kids, scattered through the bush, their lives bright and powerful- all right there for her to feed on if she just pulled over. Just one life would be enough.
She stomped down on the accelerator.
Wait!
The snow was getting heavier, the wipers shoving flakes back and forth on the windshield. She heard shots fired, car horns and a shouted obscenity as she slammed through the flimsy roadblock, manned by more beacons of life shining through the cool darkness, more food.
She had to get away, to find a place to hide until the burning need passed. It had to pass.
An innate sense compelled her to head north on the main road, then turn left, up into the mountains. Past farms, past still more lives like bright candles burning in the night, all pulling her, imploring her to share in their light, to consume it.
No! She pushed the vehicle harder, climbing higher into the mountains. An orange sign sprang up; she swerved around it, past the barrier. God, she was burning up! What had been done to her? She couldn't see, couldn't-
SLAM!
The vehicle hit a stump or a rock, a minor obstacle that failed to prevent her plunge down a lethally steep embankment. Images of cold and fire surrounded her; her head thrashed back and forth but nothing could dislodge the voices imploring her to wait. She should have felt fear, yet the need dominated all. Through the crushed windshield, snow poured in along with branches and rubble, striking her. The view outside spun wildly until everything came to a sudden, crunching stop.
Even in that moment she found no peace. She could hear her breathing, hear her heart pumping life through her veins and out through the gashes across her face and arms. She could smell the sweet, succulent warmth beside her. She released the seatbelt-when had she remembered to buckle her seatbelt? — and fell in a crumpled heap against the inverted roof.
Food. Beside her was food. She simply had to reach across and-
No! Fight it, and we will be there!
She crawled out through the smashed remains of the windshield, ignoring the fresh slices across her hands and knees as she pushed glass aside.
"Re-ecca?"
People will need your help, Rebecca.
John. It was John trapped inside the mangled truck, not some delicacy for her to consume. John-his name was John and he was human but more… so very much more, because he carried the blood of Ninlil, who had created them all.
He was talking to her, asking her for something. She could see his lips move in the darkness, see the blood that trickled into his eyes and the unnatural angles of broken bones. It would be so easy to take all that he was, all that he had left, into herself. The desire flowed through her, so overpowering that she screamed in denial. She lurched away from the vehicle and plunged face first into the snow-covered embankment, trying to force the shock of cold into her system, trying to quench the searing demand that she feed.
Hold on. We're almost there.
But they weren't. She could feel them miles and miles away, too far to help. Why were her palms burning? What have you done to me?
Something, some… vague glimmer of different life pulled her face out of the snow. There-a cow.
Anger surged through her. The animal had fallen down the ravine and the damned farmer hadn't bothered to search for it. Black and white stood out in sharp relief against the dirty snow. Why could she see it in the stygian darkness? Fire… around them was fire, reflecting light from the snow-filled clouds. Lying partly on its side, one leg a shattered mess, the animal bellowed pitifully when it saw her. She could taste its fear and pain, feel it begging her for relief
Her gun. She could shoot it, put it out of its misery. Her hands, slippery with blood, fumbled the weapon. She opened her palms to find them torn, and a memory of what she was briefly infiltrated her need. If she fired her gun she'd have to fill out a report explaining why.
A bubble of hysterical laughter slipped free at the absur dity. She pulled herself from the rapidly melting snow and staggered across to the cow. Kneeling, she placed a hand on its belly to reassure it and-
A scream tore from her throat. The relief from pain was as devastating as pain itself. Her vision flooded with images connected by a million threads tangling in the forefront of her mind. What did you do to me? Why now?
Finally, there was clarity and peace.
The watery snow embraced her, cool and comfortable, the damp ice a welcome friend. Rebecca turned and opened her eyes. Soft flakes danced between ice-rimed splinters that fractured her vision of the sky. Branches, cold and lifeless, and yet she was warm. A face entered her field of vision. Kind eyes, full of love and life and the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. And something more: joy.
Welcome.
The voice in her mind was that of a young man, speaking with a gentle Midwestern accent. Rebecca pushed herself onto her elbows and looked around. Three more people dressed far too lightly for the weather were seated close by, their faces radiating the same elation as the young man who'd woken her.
And at long last, just before she passed out, Rebecca understood.
Chapter twenty-seven
"Try it again." Rodney adjusted the gain on the receiver. "I'm getting interference."
Lee crouched down on the floor of Jumper Two in order to move closer to the microphone on the side of the unit. "Senoy, Sansenoy, Semangelof," he recited, enunciating carefully.