James Axler – Gaia’s Demise

“Just the opposite,” Krysty said. “I can’t feel anything in those cursed areas. Absolutely and completely nothing.”

“Sort of like going blind,” Mildred suggested.

Krysty nodded and gave a shiver. “Very much so, yes.”

Glancing at a map taped to the wall, Ryan followed the ancient road to a lush forest of trees. Turning eastward, he started a long sweep around the obstruction until reaching a wide field. He braked to a halt, but didn’t turn off the engines, and for a few minutes, the companions studied the area carefully with weapons in hand. A few hundred yards ahead of them, the ground seemed to stop abruptly, and beyond was the limitless vista of the open sea. The sound of distant waves breaking on a rocky shore could be faintly heard over the rumble of the engines.

“Clear,” Jak said from the turret.

“Clear,” Doc agreed.

Waiting another minute, Ryan finally turned off the engines and silence filled the transport. Rising from the chair, the one-eyed warrior took his Steyer longblaster from the wall and worked the bolt, chambering a round for immediate use. “Jak, stay where you are and cover us in case of trouble. When we move out, I’ll be on point. Dean, stay with Mildred, Krysty, then Doc. J.B., take rearguard.”

Leaning the rifle against a stack of crates, Ryan worked the slide on his SIG-Sauer 9 mm pistol and holstered the deadly blaster. “Stay sharp,” he ordered, reclaiming his rifle. “This is just a recce, not a stand-up fight like at the caves. Keep a two-yard spread, and no noise. Overton’s blue shirts could be close, and we want to take them by surprise.”

“Ready?” J.B. asked, jerking back the bolt of his Uzi. “Go,” Ryan said.

J.B. unlocked the aft double doors and kicked them open. The armored slabs swung aside on squealing hinges, and a wealth of fresh air poured into the vehicle. Hopping to the ground, J.B. gratefully stretched his legs as he listened to the sounds of life. Crickets were chirping, and a bird sang softly. Good—their presence meant there were no big predators.

The rest of the companions watched from the blaster ports, the barrels of their weapons sticking out of the APC like porcupine quills. Satisfied there was no immediate danger, J.B. slung the Uzi over a shoulder and pulled the minisextant from under his shirt. Centering the mirror on the dim sun, he cut the horizon in two, adjusting the focus with tiny movements until satisfied. “This is Shiloh, North Carolina,” he stated, tucking the device away.

“Good.” Ryan stepped to the ground and the men moved away to clear the way for the rest of the companions. The last person exiting, Dean closed the double doors and heard Jak bolt them from the inside.

Sweeping across the field in a standard search pattern, the companions found nothing of interest, which annoyed and disappointed them at the same time.

“Any signs of military traffic?” Ryan asked, feeling the tension of expected battle flow from his body. “Campfires, spent shells in the grass, a used latrine?”

“No signs of anything,” J.B. answered, tugging his fedora down tight as protection from the wind.

Going to the edge of the field, Mildred found herself looking down at the ruins of a predark city partially covered with sand dunes. The beaches were festooned with driftwood and seaweed, and the ragged stumps of concrete pillions—the decaying remains of a once mighty seaport—jutted from the waves like the broken teeth of a sunken corpse. A telephone pole without wires rose from a sand dune, its crossbars filled with bird nests. Off by itself, a rusty stop sign waggled in the gusting wind.

Overhead, the purple sky was slashed with streaks of fiery orange, black clouds racing by as if moved by private hurricanes. Sheet lightning flashed, and distant thunder rumbled in natural majesty above the rattling stop sign.

The other companions joined Krysty at the edge of the cliff, and scowled at the ruins below.

“Son of a bitch. You sure this is the right place?” Ryan demanded gruffly.

Behind the companions, the main engine of the predark wag ticked softly as the metal slowly cooled. Then the top hatch of their armored vehicle squealed open on stubborn hinges, and Jak rose into view. Even with the armor and weapons of the Bradley APC surrounding him, Jak was clearly uneasy amid this desolation.