Through the glass window, Kane Adams watched the street below. Pulsating red and blue of emergency lights on the vehicles lit up the surrounding area. They filled the street, every type available packed tight. From this floor all the chaotic mess became a blur of lights and sound, too many to make out any true detail.
A flare of light from came from his right and Adams winced away. Another helicopter had joined the two already slowly circling the building. Their spotlights roving over the building, searching for any signs of survivors. Their bright light bothered his eyes. In fact, any bright light source caused his new eyes to hurt.
Adams turned from the window. His new solid black eyes...after the surgery and the concoction of drugs his eyes had been a side effect. At first it bothered him a great deal, when he looked into a mirror he would recoil, partly in fear and partly in anger. He was something...unnatural. He was something...new.
However, Adams grew used to his new eyes and began to like how he could cause fear simply by looking at someone. His black eyes would make almost anyone shudder and turn away. And he was a man used to instilling fear in others. Force through intimidation or strength into getting what he wanted were old familiar friends.
This was a truth Adams understood better than most people. A person did what they wanted, took what they wanted, until some force stopped them. It could be as simple as not taking your neighbors food because he had a gun. Or it could be as complex as one nation not invading another because the other nation had a larger army. Like air into a balloon, power filled a vacuum until it met resistance.
Turning back to the Quorum, Adams considered the parasites in the room. The Souls were excellent examples of his philosophy. For all of their moralizing about making the world better, the truth was they used the lives of other species because they could. They took whole worlds because no one stopped them. Any other explanation or justifications they provided were a delusion. They had not encountered a force which could stop them, so they did what they wanted. Until now...Adams was the force which withstood them. Their great strength, making the body and mind of their enemy their own, lay broken at Adams's feet.
"What more do you want from us?" asked Comforter Benjamin interrupting Adams's private musings. Adams shifted his view until he focused on the tall form of Benjamin. The Comforter eyed him uneasily. "You have threatened and derided us, your forces have killed many, but what can you possibly hope to achieve? The Seekers will mass and retake this building, you can't prevail against us, even if you are yourself are immune to our joining."
Adams's smile was broad as possible. He leaned in closer and the Comforter automatically retreated, sinking into his chair. "I'm sorry, Comforter Benjamin. We've had a few delays and I'm behind schedule." Marc and his little clan's arrival had been entirely unexpected. Their interference had already disrupted Adams's plan. But Adams wasn't alarmed. He still could complete his mission. He felt in his pocket for the detonator, felt the key ready to be turned and arm the bombs. 'Not yet,' he told himself.
####
Agent Gray pulled the night vision goggles from his eyes as he and Agent Williams made their way down the stairs. Williams followed Gray's example and pulled his set off as well. He likely wouldn't need them anymore. With the added illumination from the emergency lights they weren't doing much good. Before in the darkened building the night vision had let their small team have the upper hand with the far more numerous Seekers.
At this point, the Seekers in the building had been virtually wiped out, but now Gray and Williams had a new problem. Marc Walters and his small band of rebels had forced their way into the building, apparently intending to comfort Adams. From what Gray had been able to observe they had nearly all their people committed to the endeavor.
'And we're two men down,' considered Williams as Gray stopped at the door leading to the floor where Agent Kendrick was being held by Marc's people. Upstairs Agent Anderson remained in an unconscious slumber, still too injured to assist.
"Adams may have Marc," said Gray in a tight, angry voice. "But I want to get one or two of these little snots and make them tell me how they knew we were here."
Inwardly Williams cringed. Of course, he knew how Marc's people had found out. The girl Mia had apparently overheard them talking. 'And I let her go,' thought Williams. It was a stupid thing to do. He could rationalize that these human hiding in Chicago's sewers should have had the good sense to stay away, but he understood why they had come. The death of the boy cried out for revenge.
Williams sighed to himself as they moved into the corridor. Adams would find out soon enough Williams's treachery. Then Adams would kill him, this Williams was certain. And yet Williams found an odd sense of relief in this fact. He just didn't care anymore. In an effort to distract himself he said, "What is taking Adams so long? He's had plenty of time to pull the worms from the entire Quorum."
"I don't know," replied Gray. Anger and frustration caused his voice to rise above the man's usual low voice. "We should be working on our exit and getting back to the Facility. Instead, this whole mission is going pear-shaped."
There wasn't much more for the two men to say to each other. The Facility was the last outpost of humanity trying to find a way to take back their world. They were a handful of scientists, soldiers, and a few Recovered Humans against the alien horde. The mission was dangerous. Hell, everything they did now was risky. It was either time to stand or put their faces against the wall. Williams traced the cyanide capped tooth in his mouth with his tongue, he knew what to do if things went really wrong.
"Hold up," whispered Gray as they near an intersection and Williams pulled himself from his private musings and focused on his surroundings. Going silent both men listened and could hear inaudible voices coming from around the corner. Creeping closer to the intersection Williams could hear an argument taking place. Angry voices demanding to know where Marc Walters was held and Agent Kendrick's defiant refusal.
Silently they moved to edge of the corner. With a machine like precision they pulled their weapons and prepared to attack the unsuspecting rebels.
####
The doors to the meeting room opened suddenly and three people moved in from the dimly lit hallway. The first two, Marc Walters and Seeker Bright Moon on Fallen Snow, had their hands zip-tied behind their backs. A dark streak of blood mated in the Seeker's honey blond hair. The third, Agent Rebecca Taylor, held a gun trained on Bright Moon's head. Both Marc and Bright Moon stopped in surprise at seeing the assembled Quorum members sitting terrified while Adams stood over them like a waiting executioner.
Marc was the first to shake off his surprise of seeing the captured Souls and the black-eyed Adams. Glowering he turned back to Agent Taylor and said, "Well you got me up here." He nodded towards Bright Moon and continued, "Let her go."
Taylor sneered at Marc and then shook her head slightly in amusement. "Marc, you do like to play the big hero, don't you?" She turned to the Seeker and pressed the gun harder against Bright Moon's head. "Personally I'd shoot you both and be done with you. But Agent Adams wants to talk to you and you'll behave if I've got a gun to your little Seeker girlfriend."
Bright Moon's eyes widened in surprise and her mouth fell open at Taylor's comment. Marc's face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed him as he watched the blond-haired Seeker. Taylor noticed his worried filled eyes and her sneer turned to a smug smile. "This morning I saw the way you two looked at each other."
"Simple Sunlight," said Bright Moon as the Seeker forced down a rising blush on her face and addressed the Human. "It's Bright Moon on Fallen Snow, if any part of you can hear me if you have any control, please stop your host from harming anyone else."
Agent Taylor's face twisted from her self-satisfied smirk to one of barely controlled rage in less than a heartbeat. She pressed the gun hard against the Seeker's head and Bright Moon shrank back. "You just don't get it. You never met 'Simple Sunlight', it was always me!" Taylor watched the renewed shock on Bright Moon's face and continued with her voice swelling with cruel mockery. "Poor Bright Moon, always missing what's right under your nose. Couldn't see Calm Waters Below pining away for you, you were too busy looking for your Humans. All the while you had one working at the next desk."
"Enough Agent Taylor," said Adams in a sharp rebuke of the angry red-haired woman. He didn't need Taylor overreacting and shooting the Seeker. The months of undercover work had certainly taken a toll on the Agent. Her barely contained rage at Bright Moon seemed ready to slip into outright violence. The other parasites in the room grew fretful from the Taylor's wrath. For now Adams needed them calm, he had questions which he needed answering. After Adams had what he wanted, Taylor would be free to kill as many parasites as she wanted.
Agent Taylor's temper lessened at Adams orders, but an angry glare remained on her face. Adams noticed the other parasites were quite upset at seeing Agent Taylor. While the Quorum members greatly feared him, seeing Taylor with her silver sheened eyes deeply disturbed them. Taylor pushed Bright Moon roughly into an empty chair at the table. The Seeker sunk down slowly in the chair, her eyes never leaving Agent Taylor.
Educator Dry Sands on the Plain studied Bright Moon for a moment, her face twisted with concern for the injured Seeker. The young woman then shifted her gaze to the red-haired woman and asked in trembling voice, "Please Agent Taylor, what happened to the Soul Simple Sunlight?"
"Oh, my worm?" replied Taylor with a cold smile. "Bound and gagged in the back of my skull." She saw the horrified looks grow on the Souls faces. Her icy smile changed to hard glare at their distress and she added, "Karma's a real bitch...it's no worse than what was done to me."
Dry Sands and several other Souls let out a moan of despair at Simple Sunlight's fate. Agent Taylor ignored them and gestured at another empty chair for Marc. The tall man slowly sat down in the chair. His eyes had moved between Adams and Taylor while he'd listened in intense interest to the two humans. Once seated Marc asked Adams, "Who the hell are you people?"
"Isn't oblivious," replied Adams with slight amusement in his voice. "We're the Human Resistance."
Marc's eyebrows rose, "Really? You guys look in the mirror lately?" He dipped is head towards Taylor and said with a smile, "You look like you're a Soul with some serious anger management issues." Marc turned to face Adams. "And you," he began, but his smile faded as he stared at Adams midnight eyes, "You look like a damn nightmare."
Adams smile grew cold. Marc had fixed his gaze on him and he didn't look away as Adams's black eyes stared into his eyes. Marc wasn't a man to be easily intimidated reflected Adams as he replied. "I suppose I am a nightmare. But then being a nightmare is exactly what's it's going to take to fight the invasion."
Unexpectedly Seeker Skyward Into the Night straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. The small man had watched the three new arrivals sullenly, but now he spoke up. He twisted his head between Adams and Marc. "Nightmares...You speak of humanity becoming nightmares." The Seeker focused on Marc, "Do you, Marc Walters, look forward to this fate?"
"Oh for once in your life could you not be a complete jackass?!" snapped Marc as he faced the diminutive Seeker. "Don't lump me in with these people. Did I ever attack one of your buildings, shoot up the place, and take hostages?"
The muscles tightened in Skyward's face. With a scowl he replied, "I didn't accuse you of being in league with Adams, but it would seem his people are the ones who are trying to guide your future."
For the moment Marc ignored Skyward's question and turned back to Adams, "I assume the Soul spaceship I heard about up was your doing." Adams merely smiled and Marc had all the confirmation he needed. Marc's voice lowered into an angry whisper. "So you're a killer of children for both races."
Adams didn't bother to respond, he only gave Marc a disdainful smile. Marc shifted in his chair, bringing himself around to face Adams directly. It wasn't easy with his hands tied behind his back. "So Uncle Fester, what the hell do you want? Why did you drag me up here?"
Adams leaned back against the window, his big body blotting out the outside light and forcing the room deeper into shadow. "Well, not to play to your ego Mr. Walters but we're here because of you."
"Really?" sighed Marc.
"Oh yes. I think your reasonably smart man," said Adams. "You've figured out some of what's going on here."
"Because I was trying to reach a peace agreement with the Souls," answered Marc. "Whoever you guys work for really didn't want that happening."
"Correct," said Adams.
Marc stopped and shifted again in his seat, "You really didn't need to bother, Skyward was doing an excellent job of sinking that plan on his own. But..." Marc trailed off as glanced between the Souls seated around him and back to Adams. "Why kill Tim...Why set the Seekers up?"
"Penance Mr. Walters. You owed us reparations, you and your merry little band of tunnel dwellers," responded Adams in a voice empty of any emotion.
"The plague," said Marc in a whisper. "Your people made it, right?" At Adams nod of confirmation, the Souls around the table gasped in shock and alarm. "And my people cured it, stopped it from spreading."
"Yes," replied Adams as his voice grew terse and angry. He pointed at Marc and then the Souls around the table. "You had the audacity to save these things, to save their stolen lives. You would befriend and make peace with the parasites. "Adams pushed himself from the window and slowly approached Marc as he continued, "And what type of peace would you have? Would you be any better than a second-class citizens in your own world? Or more likely end up a pet in some zoo, to be gawked at by the invaders."
Marc shifted in his seat again as Adams stood over him. "When we learned of your little 'nuclear option' we saw an opportunity for you to repay your debt. If you and your people thought the Seekers responsible for the death of one of your own..."
"We'd go to war. Send out how to remove Souls to the world or die trying," finished Marc, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You would have redeemed yourself for your race," said Adams coolly. He continued to look down at Marc with his empty black eyes. Marc shuddered and looked away. Marc's gaze returned to Seeker Skyward and the Human said, "I don't believe it, I've finally found a bigger bastard than you." There was no humor or anger in Marc's voice and Skyward looked away.
A long silence followed and Marc finally muttered, "And now that I didn't? Now what?"
"Why are you here?" asked Adams in a low growl of a voice.
"Oh," said Marc with amusement rising in his voice. "You want to know why I didn't fall for it. Why I came here instead of running off to grab a radio tower to broadcasts the Souls' greatest hits."
"Yes," barked Adams.
Marc shifted in his seat once again. Leaning back, he stared up at the ceiling with a grin. "Nope, not going to tell you."
Adams roughly grabbed Marc by his hair and brought his fist down hard against the back of the man's head. The blow caused Marc's head to slam into the table. Around the table, the Souls paled at the brutality. Bright Moon and several other Souls cried together, "Don't hurt him."
Marc shook himself and blinked a little woozily. "Oh wow, Chris Brenner in the fifth grade hit harder than you."
Adams glared down at Marc. He stalked over to Agent Taylor and reached out with a big hand, palm up. She sighed irritably but turned over the gun to her fellow agent. Adams turned and pointed it the gun at Marc's forehead. "Tell me how you knew we'd come here."
"Stop this please," said Healer Long Rivers as he watched Adams's grip tighten on the weapon. "Has there not been enough death already? Enough destruction?" The bearded Healer pointed to Marc, "Marc and his people saved lives and tried to find peace with us. And for that you wish to destroy him?"
The gun in Adams's hand didn't waver at all, but he pulled back from pulling the trigger. Adams regarded the Healer with a patronizing smile. "Death? Destruction? Trust me Healer you've not seen anything yet. An army will arise like none you've ever seen before."
"They all going to be some black-eyed psychopaths like you?" interrupted Marc as he twisted in his chair to face Adams.
"Exactly!" bellowed Adams. "I'm just the first of many to come. All of us will be immune to you miserable little worms."
The room grew silent and still. Then Marc broke the stillness, "Then humanity is doomed."
"Oh, would you just shoot him!" screamed Rebecca Taylor at Adams as she flew into a frenzy. Her face contorted into a hate filled rage as she pointed at Marc. "Kill all of them! Kill every last one of these disgusting maggots! AGGGHHH!" Her face spasmed as she screamed and her body twisting unnaturally. Taylor's hands clenched and unclenched as if she had grabbed a live electrical wire. She let out a long cry and then went suddenly still.
Everyone, even Adams, watched in amazement as Taylor slowly straightened her body. Her mouth opened and a low moan came out. It was a dull sigh of despair. "She buried me..." said Taylor in a slow, thick voice. "She buried me in all her hate..."
Confused looks went around the table. Adams's eyes narrowed and he pulled the gun away from Marc. It was Bright Moon who first realized what was happening. In a hesitant voice she asked, "Simple Sunlight?"
Rebecca Taylor's body turned towards Bright Moon. The angry face gone, replaced with one of deep sadness. In a soft moan she said, "Please end this...it's unbearable..."
"Not a problem," answered Adams and shot her.
####
Gray went low while Williams went high. Both men swung around the corner at the same time and released a spray of bullets. This hallway opened up into a large space filled with office cubicles. People dressed in rumpled black clothing stood in a small circle near the center of the drab grey cubical walls. Their opening volley missed most of the rebels, but Williams did see at least one black form crumble from their attack.
Gray's and Williams's attack wasn't the most strategic of plans, but with their forces cut in half sometimes an aggressive response did more than any surgical strike. Some of the rebels dove for cover while other froze in place, temporarily stunned by the sudden attack. Williams refocused on the figures still standing while Gray lay down withering fire on the people hiding behind the thin cubical walls.
A big man standing in the center pulled a gun and began to return fire. Williams recognized the man as Odell Watson. Williams took aim at the dark-skinned rebel, with Marc captured Odell was likely leading these people. If Odell could be killed his people would fall apart quickly, Williams could end this threat quickly. As he pulled the trigger and the gun fired a small man rushed Odell and pushed him out of the way in the last second. The smaller figure took the hit and fell to the ground.
Williams tried to find Odell again, but the man had disappeared behind the small grey walls. The rebels were slowly responding, returning fire, but it was still disorganized. Williams ducked as several bullets hit the nearby wall. Twisting back to return fire something caught Williams' eyes. A girl with long blond hair sprinted away with the tall form of a black dressed rebel.
"Samantha?" said Williams as he focused on the retreating couple. Williams felt his whole body go numb. He nearly dropped his rifle as he watched the blond hair girl disappear out of sight. He was suddenly inundated with memories of Samantha. His little girl running into his waiting arms...pushing her on a swing set...holding her when she had a bad dream.
"What the hell!?" said Gray as he grabbed Williams and yanked him back behind the cover of the wall.
"It's Samantha!" cried Williams as he pushed Gray away.
The man eyes grew confused and then slowly refocused on his fellow Agent. "Williams," said Gray, "listen to me..." But Williams had turned and was already running down the corridor. He'd seen Samantha run down a hallway parallel to his current one and he ran for the next intersection with the hopes of seeing her. He could hear Gray still yelling, but he was beyond caring, had they not killed enough today? All he wanted to do was see his little girl.
Memories continued well up in Williams' mind, they increased with every step he took. He remembered their home on a military base. Remembered Samantha's birthday was in April. As the memories came back, Williams felt the dull pain behind his eyes again. This time the pain felt like something was slowly pushing and wiggling in his mind. There was no denying what was happening this time. The parasite in him, Pale Light Gleaming, was waking up.
Williams paid the newly rising alien conscious little attention. He turned at the next intersection and saw her. A tall dark-haired man was holding her protectively. Williams raced towards her and called out, "Samantha!"
Instantly the tall man turned and shielded his little girl. Her eyes were wide with fright as she saw him running towards her. Williams realized of course she would be afraid, he was still holding his gun. He dropped the weapon as if it was on fire as he came to halt in front of the couple.
Samantha's protector pulled out his own gun and aimed it at Williams. Williams raised his arms. "No, it's okay...Samantha its me...Its Daddy."
The girl's eyes remained impossibly large with fright and the tall dark-haired man didn't budge. His blazing blue eyes glared at Williams. "Get away from us!" he barked.
"Please," begged Williams as he stared at his little girl.
Without warning, a dark form jumped out the darkness. Samantha's protector spun to face the new threat but was too slow. Agent Gray slammed the butt of his gun down on the tall man's head, the force of the blow sending him to the floor with a hard thud.
A high-pitched scream tore from Samantha's throat, "Ian!"
Gray turned and smoothly shifted his weapon in his arms and aimed right for Samantha's head.
####
Echoes of the gunshot reverberated around the room. Deathly silence followed. Then an anguished cry came from Bright Moon as Simple Sunlight's body fell to the ground. Adams turned back to Marc. It was time to put all this to an end.
But Marc jumped out of his seat, his hands freed from the plastic bonds. His twisting back and forth in his seat had hidden his efforts to break the zip tie. Startled Adams took a step back and then brought up the weapon. It gave Marc just enough time to grab hold of Adams' gun. He yanked hard, trying to twist the weapon from Adams' grip.
Adams fought to fend off Marc. He punched out and hit Marc hard in the younger man's side. Marc let out a groan of pain but stubbornly held on to the weapon. Adams finger tightened on the gun's trigger and the gun fired, once...twice...both bullets hitting the empty far wall. But it had the effect Adams wanted. The recoil of the gun had helped loosen Marc's grasp on the gun. With a hard kick Marc's mid-section, he knocked the man loose.
Marc hit the ground hard. Adams kick to the gut had winded him. He started to push himself up when Adams brought the barrel of the gun towards Marc's head. "You deserve a much more painful death," snarled Adams as he pulled the trigger. Marc's eyes widened, the cold realization of his impending death struck him as hard as any blow. And then a blur of something dark jumped in between Adams and Marc, a small body with thinning hair – Seeker Skyward Into the Night.
The bullet struck Skyward dead center in the chest. His small body jerked hard from the impact but impossibly the little man remained standing, acting as a shield for Marc. "Monster," hissed Skyward as he faced Adams. The black-eyed man's lips twisted back to form a hideous grin. Adams brought the gun to bear on the small Seeker, right at Skyward's forehead, and fired.
The body of Seeker Skyward Into the Night simply dropped to the ground with a soft thud. Marc's eyes couldn't process what he saw, couldn't make sense of Skyward's body. He sat on the ground, unmoving in a daze. With the obstacle to Marc gone, Adams refocused his aim at the young man sitting on the floor. He pulled the trigger. And nothing happened, the gun was empty.
Time hung for a long second. No one moved. Then in an instant the room erupted into noise and violence. Souls cried out in terror from the bloodshed. Seeker Bright Moon hauled herself up on unsteady legs. Adams ejected the clip from the pistol and reached for a new magazine. And Marc leapt from the floor and smashed his fist into Adams's face.
Adams shrugged off the blow. Marc pivoted in smoothly on Adams' left side and landed another punch, but Adams barely reacted from the second hit. Instead, he pocketed the gun while a wide smile grew on his face. A small streak of blood ran from his mouth where Marc had hit and Adams wiped it away with the back of his hand.
"Good," said Adams as he faced down Marc. "A bullet is too fast for you." Adams' hands were large and as they tightened into two massive fists. Marc could hear the knuckles pop from the pressure as the fists squeezed tight.
Marc one again went on the attack. He threw a solid punch to Adams' side and then kicked vigorously at Adams' shins trying to put the older man off-balance. In turn, Adams twisted to his side and hit Marc solidly in the jaw. The blow staggered Marc and he nearly went to his knees but he forced himself to stay standing.
Adams straightened and saw Marc take a step back. Keeping himself distanced from the muscled man Marc swung out again. But the punches were too far out and too slow and Adams simply blocked the blows. Marc leaned in for a fast jab and Adams caught the man's arm. They struggled, but Adams was stronger and reeled Marc in.
Once...Twice...Three times Adams landed powerful blows on Marc's right side. Marc cried out in pain and Adams could tell he'd cracked the man's rib. With a hard shove, he threw the battered man to the ground and then kicked him in his right side.
A scream erupted from the younger man as he crumpled on the floor. Adams leaned back and growled, "Come on boy, show me what you've got."
Adams reared back to kick Marc again when Bright Moon staggered into him. The Seeker wobbled badly on her feet and with her hands still tied behind her back she wasn't able to offer any real resistance. But she pushed herself between Adams and Marc. Through clenched teeth, she fiercely spat her words at the black-eyed Adams. "You won't touch him!"
The ugly twisted smile again formed on Adams' lips. He moved to bat Bright Moon away when another body dived in behind her, Long Rivers. The Soul Healer joined the Seeker in protecting Marc. Soon other bodies were crowding in around Bright Moon and Long Rivers. Dry Sands, Ice Cleaver, and Vermilion formed a tight circle in defense of Marc. Their faces still terribly frightened, but they stood resolute as they faced down Adams.
Adams' sour smile remained as he surveyed the Souls. "Brave, but pointless." With a small nod of his bald head, he indicated Seeker Skyward's fallen form. "You can all join him."
"Get out of the way," said Marc from behind the assembled Souls. He was standing again and he slowly stepped away from the protective shield of Souls. They attempted to move to once again protect him, but he stretched out his arm and pushed them away. Bright Moon tried to force herself against the tall human. Without looking at her, Marc gently squeezed her arm and walked past. Marc's eyes locked on Adams as he stepped forward to face his enemy.
"No Marc," said Bright Moon in a whisper.
"Run," he replied with a growl as he approached Adams. The hideous black-eyed man with the long thin scar on his head watched all this with open amusement. He addressed Marc as his younger opponent approached him. "You'd fight for these worms?"
Adams got no further when Marc rushed forward and grabbed hold of Adams. Marc sudden burst of speed caught Adams of guard and Marc yanked forward and drove his knee into Adams' mid-section. The blow knocked the air from Adams' lungs and Marc drove his fist into the man's jaw with vicious smack.
Knocking his opponent back, Marc took the briefest moment to turn back to Bright Moon. "Go!" he yelled at the Seeker. He didn't have time to see her reaction as Adams pushed back and landed a ringing blow to Marc's head.
Adams and Marc both fought furiously, trading blow for blow. Dodging and weaving around each other they both looked for an opening to exploit and damage the other. But Adams was stronger and Marc slower from his wounds. All too quickly the older man gained the advantage. A quick strike to Marc's right side caused him to twist in pain. Another blow from Adams' wide fist dropped Marc to his knees.
"You do fight for them," spat Adams as he closed his distance to Marc. Dazed Marc tried to ward off Adams ineffectually. Brushing aside Marc's meager defense Adams wrapped his broad hands around Marc's neck. As he hand crushed down on Marc's throat, he added in a low voice, "Well then, you can die for them."
####
Williams stood over his former Agent. Gray's body was still alive, but not for much longer. When Gray had aimed for Samantha Williams' mind had snapped. He had tackled Gray and began to beat the man senseless. Gray had tried to fend him off, but Williams was lost in a mindless rage. His mind felt completely disconnected from his body and all his body wanted to do was kill Gray. Again and again he had landed blows on Gray's body. At some point, he'd pulled out a knife and began to stab the man.
Except for Samantha's sobs, everything was very still in the hallway. Williams still felt the strange vertigo of separation from his body as though he was floating nearby as a ghost. He could feel Pale Light Gleaming slowly becoming aware in the back of his mind. A dim and dull thought which was not Williams' trickled into his brain, 'What is happening?' For the moment, Williams ignored the alien in his head.
"You shouldn't have tried to hurt Samantha," said Williams.
A deep gurgling came from Gray's throat and blood splattered on his lips when he coughed. "It's not your daughter," said Gray in a faint quivering voice. "Your...daughter is dead."
And Williams' memories came back. They all came back in a sudden flood, like a log jam which suddenly cleared. The memories flowed through him and he remembered everything...
Craig Williams was finally leaving that God-forsaken country. Away from the stifling heat and the country's angry citizens, away from the constant worry of roadside bombs and constant raids, he was finally going home. He'd come home to Stacey and his little golden-haired Samantha. It would be for good this time.
He didn't bother to listen to the other officers complain how strange the upper brass had been acting lately. How old friends were suddenly turning into some sort of odd peace-loving hippies. Craig simply let it go. He didn't know and didn't care. He was going home. First thing he would do was tell Stacey he was done. He'd given the service enough years of his life.
But Stacey didn't meet him at the base's airport when he landed. Craig felt a weak punch of pain to the gut at her absence. He knew they were having troubles, but she'd never missed seeing him off or greeting him with Samantha when he came back.
Some part of him, the part shaped by years of combat, told him something was wrong as he walked to his home. But for the life of him he couldn't tell what. The street was clean, no hidden spots for bombs. Kids played in the yards, as tranquil as an episode from some 50's sitcom. But he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched as he stepped up to his door.
Stacey greeted him at the door. He pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. But she didn't return his kiss, instead going stiff in his arms. He pulled back, worried that their marriage was in worse shape than he thought. He'd asked her what was wrong, but she'd put him off. Saying she was only surprised by his early return. Stacey had never been a great liar and now she was downright awful.
Craig sighed to himself, he knew he'd not been the best of husbands, but now he'd be changing things. He'd be home all the time now, time for Stacey and Samantha. Putting his concerns about Stacey away, he went to find Samantha. He found his precious girl in her bedroom reading a book. She sat so upright and calm while she read from her small desk. He smiled to himself. She was growing up so fast, already acting like a miniature adult.
"Hello father," she greeted him in a crisp formal voice. So unlike the little girl he knew.
She had always called him daddy. "Sweetie, what wrong? When have you ever called me father?" asked Craig, beginning to worry about how everyone was acting.
"Nothing's wrong Craig. Not anymore," said Stacey from behind him in a soft voice. He turned and she sprayed something into his face. The strong scent of raspberries was the last thing he remembered. And then....
...He was Pale Light Gleaming, a recent first wave Soul colonist from the Mist World. He lived in a small home with two other Souls, Leaves Forward and Truthful Watcher. Leaves Forward had been his host's mate, but neither Soul felt compelled to carry on the partnership. However, they were both friendly to each other and dedicated to raising Truthful Watcher's body to adulthood.
They had a happy and peaceful existence, like all lives lived by the Souls. Almost every day Pale Light Gleaming traveled by automobile to the former military base where he helped to disassemble and re-purpose all the terrible weapons created by the planet's host race. He did his job well; his host body had a great deal of knowledge about how the weapons worked. But it was a job Pale Light Gleaming would be glad to be done with and move on to a better calling.
Beyond the unpleasantness of his current work, he loved his new body and his new world. He greatly enjoyed spending time with Truthful Watcher. The way her young body's blond tresses cascaded down her small face always made him smile. Every so often he would catch himself addressing her as Samantha. He always sensed odd feeling when he said her host body's name, but Truthful Watcher never minded being called by the wrong name. She told him occasionally she felt the urge to call him 'daddy.' He'd been struck by a strange but beautiful feeling in his chest.
Then late one night a man appeared at the door. He said his name was Gray. He'd been having trouble with his car and asked if he could come in to use their phone. He was friendly enough but seemed oddly nervous and hurried. Yet Pale Light Gleaming had no reason to distrust the man and let him enter. Gray had been there for only a few moments when the man roughly grabbed him and shoved a rag into his face. He'd inhaled the biting smell from the cloth and then darkness.
He awoke confused and in a haze to a nightmare. He was strapped to a table, unable to move, in a large white room. He saw men in white surgical masks looking down at him, their eyes were cold and...human. No silver reflection in those cruel eyes. Panicked he'd swung his head back and forth, looking for help. There were other bodies in place, men, women, children, the young and the old, all strapped to tables just like his.
There was a girl, young with short dark hair and an olive skin complexion, tied down and sobbing. One of the masked humans tried to comforter her, actually seemed concerned for the girl. He softly stroked her hair while telling her she was going to get better soon. For a moment Pale Light Gleaming lay stunned and confused, he'd never thought a human could be so gentle.
Another masked human approached the two. This Human appeared to be in charge. He held a clipboard and studied it for a moment. Looking down at the girl, he spoke in a commanding voice, "Subject 23a, Mia Cheng...the DNA profile looks like it's a match. Send her down."
The Human who had comforted the girl paled and began to argue. But the Human in charge didn't bother to listen. He'd already turned away and examined another body. Pale Light Gleaming gasped out loud when he saw the body now being studied, it was Truthful Watcher. Her body was limp and still, a small trickle of dried blood running from her nose.
"Gray reported It killed itself before he could capture," informed one of the Humans to the man with the clipboard. He held Truthful Watcher's small head, the blond hair spilling over the sides of the table.
A deep agonizing cry came from Pale Light Gleaming mouth. A stabbing pain moved through his entire body. His shout caused all the Humans in the room to turn to him in alarm. "Why?" he croaked out to the Humans.
The Human with the clipboard, the one in charge, came over to him to him and looked down at Pale Light Gleaming. His face hidden behind the surgical mask only showed his eyes. His human eyes weren't cold or angry, but instead happy...almost jubilant.
And his voice reflected his delight, "We're going to make you better Mr. Williams..."
Agony...utter soul-crushing agony filed Williams and Pale Light Gleaming. There was no real separation between the two consciences now. Thoughts, both human and alien, washed back and forth in the brain like a storm-tossed sea. Both minds lost in the despair of losing Samantha and Truthful Watcher.
Huddled on the floor, they sobbed out loud, large tears running down their face. Nearby Wanda held Ian's head in her lap, the unconscious man breathing slowly in and out while she caressed his face. Wanda's own tears trickling down her face and splashing on to Ian's still form.
Melanie ran into the intersection from the still dark hallway, her eyes wide as she took in Gray's dead body, then Williams sobbing, and finally Wanda and Ian. "Ian!" cried out Melanie as she dropped down to the small Soul woman and her Human lover.
"That one," said Wanda in a trembling voice as she pointed to the unmoving Agent Gray, "hit Ian hard. He's hurt..."
"It's okay," said Melanie uncertain if anything would ever be alright again.
"She's dead...Gray killed her..." said Williams in an odd broken voice. As though the mouth was unfamiliar with the words it was speaking. Both Wanda and Melanie turned to see Williams. The man was staring unsteadily at Wanda.
"You called me Samantha," said Wanda in hush. "I don't know that name, who was she?"
"Our daughter...We remember now." He blinked and seemed finally able to focus on Wanda. "You look so much like her, only older. You could have been sisters."
"We?" asked Melanie in some confusion, but then a spark of realization flashed in her eyes. "You're both in there," said Melanie as she pointed to his head, "Human and Soul. Whatever they did to you must be wearing off."
"We...I...Don't know," said Williams with an effort. Melanie gave Wanda a small tug. They needed to get out of here quickly. She did not trust this man who only minutes before was trying to kill them.
But Wanda only stared at the man, her face full of sorrow and compassion for both Human and Soul. She spoke in gentle and comforting voice in an attempt to soothe the broken man, "I'm so sorry."
Williams and Pale Light Gleaming both heard the words and the two minds shattered apart. Pale Light Gleaming heard the words as concern and solace from a fellow Soul. Comfort for all he had lost. But the Human heard the words differently, as trite and condescending. Empty words offered as some type of pathetic relief for all he had lost.
Something deep within Williams's heart broke and anger flared in his mind. He fought for dominance with the parasite in his head. The Soul would normally be able to take control of the body and mind, but it was weak. Only a faint echo of what it had been and it shied away from fury burning in the Human's mind. As Pale Light Gleaming was pushed back into the back of his mind, Williams felt a surge of strength and elation run through his body. He was in control...not the worm in the back of his head. His rage fed upon itself and he grew even stronger.
"You're...sorry?" said Williams in a deadly calm voice.
Wanda could hear the change in his voice and could see the anger and rage in his eyes. As she watched, she could see the silver flicker in those eyes begin to fade. She swallowed nervously while she felt Melanie stiffen next to her and Ian.
Williams stood up slowly, he glanced at his fallen fellow agent and then back to Wanda. His blue eyes locked onto Wanda's silver-gray ones. The blue in Williams's eyes was like Ian's, the same vibrate dark blue. But Ian's eyes, even when they had first met and he'd tried to strangle her, had never held such complete and utter hatred.
"What, exactly, are you sorry about?" said Williams as he slowly approached Wanda. "Are you sorry about my daughter?"
"Yes..s.s," stammered Wanda.
"Are you sorry about taking over my world? All the lives you've stolen?" Williams's eyes narrowed as he forcefully pulled memories from Pale Light Gleaming of the parasites conquests. "You've taken so many and for so long! Are you sorry for all that!?"
"We..." began Wanda but realized there was nothing she could say that wouldn't enrage the man further. She wanted to run, run as fast as she could, but Ian needed her and she stayed frozen to the spot.
Melanie's hands tighten into fists and she pushed herself forward in an attempt to block Wanda and Ian. She growled out, "Wanda and the Souls aren't the ones who did this to you. These people who sent you here did. They," and she slapped her hand out towards Gray, "killed your daughter."
"It was the worm in her head! It shredded my little girl!" screamed Williams as he launched himself at Melanie and Wanda. He shoved Melanie aside, sending the brunet woman sprawling on the ground, and then grabbed hold of Wanda's small form.
He lifted her small body with a contemptible ease. Wanda's legs kicked wildly in the air as she struggled. Melanie pulled herself up and went for Gray's gun. She grabbed the large weapon from the ground and fumbled with it as she attempted to aim at the man holding Wanda.
"Don't bother," snapped Williams as he spun and put Wanda between himself and Melanie's recovered weapon. He leaned in close to Wanda, his face red with rage less than an inch for her pale white lips. Williams locked his eyes again on Wanda. His eyes blazed with impossible hatred and his voice so empty and dark it was as if the void of space was pouring out. "There will never be a Hell good enough for you wretched worms. Never will a fire burn hot enough or long enough."
The sound of pounding feet coming down the hallway signaled the approach of more rebels. Williams held Wanda at arm's length and then threw her to the ground. Pain radiated through her body as she hit the floor. For a long moment Williams towered over her and then he began to retreat. His burning blue eyes never leaving her silver-grey ones as he slowly disappeared into the shadows.
####
The black-eyed monster of a man stood over Marc, crushing the life from his body. His eyes loosing focus on the world as a cold darkness pulled him down. Marc's life did not flash before his eyes as he was strangled. Instead, it came in slow, sluggish waves, one crashing upon another. An ocean of memories slowly draining away as his oxygen starved brain fought to stay alive.
A memory when he was a boy one rainy night, running to the door to greet his father, but finding a police officer with sad eyes instead...Trying to avoid the thuggish older boys of his new neighborhood coming home from school...His mother's sobs as Child Protection Services lead him away, promising him he was just going away for a short time while his mother got well...Running away from the abusive foster home...Of living on the streets with Kate and Jason...Hiding from the police and then the slow realization that the police were no longer the police...Watching the world transform into a strange parody of itself, where everyone was so very friendly and everyone's eyes had rings of silver...Meeting Autumn Gusting Wind...Meeting Sister Mary-Margret...Running from Bright Moon...Of Holding Autumn's hand as Souls died by the thousands...And Tim, the boy who would never get to grow up.
And something deep within Marc began to burn...
Painfully he forced his eyes open. The world was grey and the light fading. He focused on the demon before him...No, not a demon...Just a man, a man whose eyes were solid black...Soulless eyes...Dead eyes.
Slowly Marc brought up his two hands. He barely had control of them. His hands moved so slowly that Adams focused on strangling him, didn't even notice until Marc gripped the collar of his shirt. Marc latched on with the strength of a drowning man clutching a life-preserver. Then with the very last of his strength, some deep reserve he'd never known he had, he pulled Adams down at the same time as his legs pushed off the floor.
Marc's forehead slammed into the bridge of Adams' nose. There was a sickening crunch and suddenly the man's vice like grip released. Marc sucked in air and the world of grey retreated. Adams' hands went to his face, trying to stop the stream of blood coming from his broken nose.
Pulling himself unsteadily to his feet, Marc felt his head and right side throb together in misery. But the pain was slowly but steadily being burnt away by the smoldering fire within. A deep growl of came from Adams' chest, something animalistic and angry. Marc felt a growl grow in his chest as well, but it was one born from outrage, horror, and vengeance.
Adams let go of his broken nose. Marc's hands curled to fists at his sides. Adams flexed his arms, tightening his muscles into cords of iron. Marc brought his feet into a fighter's stance, his legs tensing. Both men glared at each other, Adams' coal-black eyes to Marc's brown.
All at once they flew at each other. Adams right arm streaking towards Marc's head, he expected Marc to counter and block the blow. But the younger man took the hit and the punch barely even slowed Marc. Now in close to Adams, Marc threw a right jab to Adams' middle and then brought his left fist squarely into the other man's jaw.
Surprised Adams spun away and brought up his left arm just as Marc threw a wide punch aimed for Adams' head. Adams blocked the blow and threw out another of his own. But Marc pressed in and side-stepped the hit. Adams struck again, a hard strike in Marc's right side, on his broken rib. Pain flared through Marc, but he pushed through the pain, he endured it.
Once again Marc's left fist swung in to hit Adams' jaw, this time Adams was ready and smoothly knocked away his hand. Only to realize he'd opened his left side to attack. Marc's right fist landed with a loud crack on Adams' broken nose. The cartilage crumbled and a large gush of blood erupted from the sack of skin that had once been the black-eyed man's nose.
Another snarl came from Adams, again animal-like and angry. But this time the growl was laced with pain. Now Adams reared back and charged Marc. He threw wide, powerful blows at Marc, both right and left swings. Marc blocked as best he could, but the sheer strength and size of Adams' punches forced the younger man back. Adams was relentless, forcing Marc towards the corner of the room where he could box Marc in and finish him.
Hit in the left Marc felt his whole body shake and he fell back. Adams shifted his weight and brought his left fist in for another blow on Marc's battered right side. But the blood from his ruined nose trickled into his onyx eyes. It mixed with sweat from the fight and Adams blinked as his vision blurred. His blow missed Marc by a hair's width, his fist hitting nothing but air. Too much of his weight was in his forward step and Adams stumbled from his flailing swing. And Marc was on him.
The fire in Marc was now a full blown inferno. White hot rage coursed through him and hit Adams with every bit of strength he had. Adams' head snapped back from the blow. He tried to recover, tried to bring up his arms to ward of the blow, but Marc batted it away and struck again. This time, the blow drove Adams to his knees. A wild cry exploded from Marc's raw throat as he arched back and then bashed Adams' head with all the strength in his right arm.
"This Is For Tim...You...Son... Of... A...Bitch." Screamed Marc, each word punctuated with a blow from his fist.
Feebly Adams tried to pull away, tried put distance between himself and the enraged man. But Marc was without mercy, and his left hand seized Adams and rooted him to the spot. Again and again Marc hammered away at man. Every bone broke in his right hand and still Marc pounded away.
With a strangled cry, Adams sagged as his head rolled back. His face was now nothing but twisted wreckage. His body drooped, and Marc lost his grip. Adams' body hit the ground like a heavy sack of wet rotten clothes. For long seconds both Marc and Adams were still, nothing but their labored breathing, both men utterly spent.
With a slow, jerky motion of his right hand, Adams pulled the detonator from his pocket. Marc hadn't seen the device before, didn't know its function, but had no desire to let Adams use it. He reached for it, but his right hand was already badly swollen, and he couldn't grab hold. Adam's trembling hand turned the key, and the detonator button lit up green. He reached for the button and Marc grabbed hold with his left hand.
Both men wrestled with the small box. Marc had only one hand on the control box while Adams held on with both of his hands. Both locked in a death grip on the box, Adams one last act of violence. Marc twisted to pull the device away, but Adams held fast, his fingers inching towards the trigger. Then Marc brought his foot back and kicked Adams in the head as hard as he could.
Then again.
And again.
Finally, the bald-headed, black-eyed monstrosity of a man let go of the detonator. Marc ripped it away. Marc studied it for a moment and then just twisted the key back to its original position and button's light went out. He tossed it away and looked down at Adams.
The man still breathed, his large chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm of unconsciousness. But the man's head was bent at an unnatural angle. If Adams' neck wasn't broken, it was at the very least horrifically twisted. His face beaten raw and his black eyes swelled shut. Blood leaked out Adams' mouth and the crushed remains of his nose. It was over.
A whimper, a hushed gasp, tearful noises caused Marc to turn from the broken man at his feet. In the far corner of the room, the Quorum members huddled in abject terror. Souls were not designed for such horror and violence. Unmoving they stared up at him with wide silver glinted eyes.
"Marc," said a hushed voice from beside him. It was Bright Moon on Fallen Snow. With an effort, he turned to her. Her hair matted with blood, her face very pale, and eyes still filled with horror at everything that had happened. But she looked beautiful to Marc. He tried to smile, tried to let her know everything was alright but found the world was gradually going dark. The darkness tugged at him, and he realized he was slowly falling, his legs no longer able to keep him upright.
"Marc!" came Bright Moon voice, thick with fright. But he didn't hear her. The darkness had already taken him.