“I got it,” the cameraman said, lowering the camera. “I’ve got a burned-out CCD chip, but I got most of it. Damn.”
“I think you might want to watch your tongue there,” Toland said, looking up and blinking. “Seriously. Be careful how you speak.”
“Thank you, Lord,” the President said, his hands clenched together and tears streaming down his face. “Thank you for protecting us with Your divine hand. I pledge that this nation stands by Your side through all the trials ahead.
“And to the people of this great nation and all the peoples of other lands who joined us in prayer. Know that we have faced a great test and have shown that this nation stands by the side of the Powers of Good. Great trials face us in the future, but know that if we stand by our deity, whatever name we choose to use, that the power that watches over us will never fail. Thank you for your prayers, and God bless you all.”
EPILOGUE
Master Sergeant Attie wasn’t too sure why he got stuck as point on this particular recon, and he’d just as well have foregone the pleasure. But here he was, driving through downtown Maynardville anyway.
“Damn,” Struletz said, pointing to the left. “I think we’ve found where it was.”
The large building, probably an old factory, was partially demolished. Partially. About half of it was flattened by something, Attie was pretty sure what, but the rest was still standing.
“No real evidence of what got it,” Attie said, trying to make something out through the FLIR. “It’s just…gone.”
“Got a heat source on the right,” Struletz said, pointing. “Across the road. Looks human.”
“Go check it out,” Attie said, stopping the Humvee. He’d seen Struletz drive. “Command,” he continued, thumbing the mike on the long-range radio. “We appear to have survivors. Checking it out.”
“Target?”
“Target appears to have been neutralized,” Attie said. He could see the human figure Struletz had pointed out, and he or she appeared to be waving. Struletz had also stopped.
“What do you got, Jordan?” Attie asked.
“I’ve got one human female,” Struletz said over the squad comm. “She says there’s four more. They don’t know where they are, they don’t know how they got here and they don’t got no clothes, Master Sergeant.”
“Roger,” Attie said. “Wait one. Command. Survivor is human female. Report of four more. Absent clothing, don’t know their location or method of arrival.”
“Roger,” the TOC said. “Wait one. Determine if subjects are currently pregnant, over.”
“Jordan, any of them pregnant?” Attie said.
“Say again, Master Sergeant?”
“Any of them pregnant,” Attie said. “As in carrying the Devil’s spawn.”
“Oh, right. Stand by. Uh, that’s a negative, and they’re pretty pissed at the question. Any chance of getting some clothing up here?”
“Command, negative on the pregnancy query. We need some clothing and a medical team.”
“All of the girls who were in the sanitarium are totally recovered,” Randell said, shaking his head. “As are the five the recon team found. No bruises, no sores, the ones who were pregnant with skru-gnon aren’t. No psychological effects. Even the systemic effects from long-term malnutrition are gone. Some of them are a little underweight but that’s it. And none of them can remember anything about their experiences. The ones who were apparently kidnapped by the cult remember that, but nothing about the Gar or what happened to them. The doctors are openly using the term miracle.”
“Because it is,” Janea pointed out.
“Then there’s the bad news,” Graham said. “The teams have made it all the way up to the slaughterhouse, and a team has started an analysis of the material there. The actual reports are going to take months, but the hot-wash is bad enough.”
“How bad?” Barb asked. She knew that after channeling that much power, she should be a physical basket case. But instead she felt as if she had been reborn, a tingling throughout her body like a heady, pure wine.
She also knew she wasn’t the only one. Most of the people she’d run into on the way back to headquarters were walking around with grins on their faces. She wasn’t sure if it was just people in the region or across the nation or the world. But people had clearly been touched by God.
“Pretty bad,” Graham said. “The Gar had been growing for nearly three years. The slaughterhouse was bought by a new owner who summoned it and then fed it. He’d replaced most of the workers over time to keep it quiet. But it had been producing Hunters and Children for nearly two years. By a year ago, the company wasn’t actually producing meat. But they kept their trucks. And they were making deliveries.”
“Children,” Janea said.
“Hundreds,” the agent acknowledged. “Scattered all over the country. And then there are the ones in the mountains.”
“That’s a huge operation for one slaughterhouse,” Janea pointed out. “Where’d they get the funding?”
“We’re looking into that,” Graham said. “It wasn’t the owner. The slaughterhouse had been on the ropes until about two years ago when it was bought by an offshore company. That’s a nest of shell corporations. One did stand out, though.”
He pulled up a file on his phone and showed it to Barbara.
“Look familiar?” he asked.
Barbara blanched at the symbol.
“Trilobular?” she asked. “I thought that was shut down, hard, after the Osemi operation.”
“It was,” Graham said. “But it was involved in the purchase of the slaughterhouse. You can rest assured that there is going to be some high-level interest in the rest of these corporations.”
“So the fight isn’t over,” Barb said, shrugging. “No big surprise that there’s some sort of big corporate backing to the Other Side. We’ve got the same. Doesn’t matter. We know, now, that God is with us as we are with Him. His hand will protect and guide us. Compared to the trials that are coming, a few skru-gnon and corporate pirates are nothing. But we will prevail. God is by our side.”
“Amen,” Randell said. “You preach it, Miss Barbara. You go.”
“That sounded sincere,” Janea said, smiling.
“You know what they say,” Randell said, shrugging. “Comes a point when you just gotta give in. I’ve seen hell. Maybe there really is a heaven. Figure I’ll get me some of that Old Time religion.”
“Good enough for me,” Barb said.
Lazarus looked between the two of them and, for just a moment, appeared to shake his head.
“Mark?” Barbara asked as she came into the house. It was midafternoon and Mark’s car was in the garage. Unusual, to say the least.
She set her bags by the door and walked into the living room. No Mark. Kitchen. No Mark. No surprise.
She was halfway down the hallway when she knew, distinctly, where Mark was from the sounds from the bedroom. Just to make sure, she opened the door. And paused at the surprised expressions. Then quietly shut the door, walked to the dining room and sat down at the head of the table. Normally Mark’s spot. She steepled her fingers and waited. It took about three minutes for Mark to arrive.
“Barbara…” he said, in a choked voice. “You’re…home.”
“Yes,” Barbara replied, in a voice so totally mild it was slightly terrifying.
“Barb,” Mark said, carefully. “I…I just want to point out I have never cheated on you…with a woman.”
Author’s Afterword
Not a eulogy.
This novel has been a work in progress for a looong time. And during its writing real-life stuff has changed. Most of that relates to Dragon*Con which is, I assure my gentle readers, the most fun you can have with your clothes on. (And in some of the room parties, that’s optional.) During the day the con is aggressively PG-13 and I’ve been bringing my daughters since they were quite young. They’ve always loved the swirl of color and fantasy that goes on day and night. At this point the con has attracted so much attention that Disney World sends cast, mostly the various “Princesses” and the Dragon*Con Parade Sunday morning has become a feature of Atlanta’s Labor Day Weekend.