Exodus, page 12
The ship lay at anchor seventy or eighty yards from shore. Men stayed at their posts behind massive machine guns that had been bolted to her decks. Electric lanterns glowed in the darkness, as fragile as soap bubbles.
Seeing the light made Simon feel better. During the last hour, while he’d been shoulder to shoulder with men, he’d started feeling hemmed in, trapped.
After joining the crew in the lifeboat, Simon peered through the fog at the ship. He was constantly aware that an itchy trigger finger would give away their position and attract anyone looking for them.
The ship was long and narrow, a motorsailer that could be powered by gasoline engines as well as wind. It was painted a flat gray and only stood out against the dark water due to the running lights and the sunset. Once the night had turned full dark, Simon was certain that the vessel would scarcely be seen.
Not by human eyes, anyway. The thought was a sobering one.
“We’ve got guns aboard,” Patel told Simon. “Fifty-cal machine guns and two 20 mm cannons mounted fore and aft. And I managed to round up some hunting rifles. Those things will bring down an elephant.” The captain looked grim. “But at best, all they seem able to do against those alien creatures is slow them down.”
Simon didn’t doubt that. Once he was in England, in London, he’d have access to more and better weapons. He was looking forward to that.
Leah Creasey was already aboard Dauntless, which was what Patel’s men had renamed their ship. Their second choice had been Foolishness, but no one wanted to jinx themselves by using that name.
The young woman’s presence there surprised Simon enough that he hesitated briefly before heaving himself over the side. She wore winter clothing and had her arms wrapped around herself.
“My father wasn’t at the refugee camp,” Leah said. “I looked everywhere. I even found Mrs. Baird, she was one of my father’s neighbors. She said he helped get her out a few days ago. But he didn’t come himself because there were too many women and children.”
Simon nodded. Most of the refugees were women and children. “You should have waited,” he said.
She gave him a look that would have blistered paint, and he found that he liked her for that. “Like you waited?” she asked sarcastically.
One of the crewmen called for Simon, then started handing supplies up. Most of the supplies were medical—drugs and bandages, blankets and extra coats, and food. Just enough to help them survive the few hours it took to cross the Channel. Simon handled the boxes easily, stacking them on the deck for other men to carry away.
“We’re the only ones who are staying when this boat leaves England, you know,” Leah said.
Simon hadn’t known.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be over there alone.”
Looking at her, Simon wanted to tell her that there was no guarantee of safety even if she stayed with him. But he didn’t. “I’m sure there will be others there.”
“Perhaps. But how many of them do you think will be willing to go back to London?”
That was something Simon didn’t know. He kept loading boxes and didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to be involved. But he knew that wasn’t how his father had raised him.
“Do you really want to go into London?” he asked. “After everything you’ve seen?”
“I’m sure I don’t,” Leah answered without hesitation. Still, she couldn’t quite keep the quaver of fear out of her voice. “But I don’t have a choice. Not if my father’s still alive.”
Simon started to say something, then stopped himself, realizing that whatever he was going to say was more or less what everyone else had told him. And he wasn’t letting it stop him. Despite his Templar training, his feelings about losing his father—If he’s been lost—weren’t any different than hers. He wasn’t going because he thought he was braver than anyone else; he was going because he was frightened for his father. Just like Leah was.
“And if he’s not alive—” Her voice broke. “Well, then I need to know that, too.”
“All right,” Simon said, and hoped he didn’t live to regret his decision. She said thank you, but she didn’t look or sound like he was doing her any great favors. He didn’t blame her.
Hours later, a gray fog bank rolled out of the north, enveloping Dauntless. Simon stood on deck and stared at the swirling mass that seemed to disappear right before it enveloped the ship. But he knew that to anyone fifty feet or more away the ship would have been invisible.
As they neared the coastline, still using the sails so the diesel engines wouldn’t alert any creature that might be patrolling, Simon searched the roiling darkness. Patel had warned them that roving parties of the “aliens” hunted survivors as well as ships’ crews brave enough to come looking for them.
Simon held a .50-cal Barrett sniper rifle with an eleven-round clip. He wished he had one of the Templar weapons he’d trained with. Headed into battle, he was more accustomed to a pistol and a sword than a rifle.
Patel had control of the ship, handling the wheel with ease. He was stern and hard in the darkness, and occasionally the moon shined down through the fog to paint his features.
A few minutes later, one of the men called out when he spotted land.
Staring at the craggy shoreline, Simon’s gut clenched. Waves of cool air and warm air drifted over him, which was why the fog was so thick. He took a fresh grip on the rifle.
At Patel’s order, the crew furled the sails and they dropped anchor less than twenty feet from the shore. Dauntless had a shallow enough draw that they didn’t touch bottom.
A weak yellow light flickered in the darkness.
“There,” one of Patel’s crew whispered hoarsely.
“I see it.” Patel left the wheel in the hands of another man, then went forward to the ship’s prow. “I’m Captain Patel, of Dauntless. We’re taking on refugees.”
A small group of men, women, and children stepped out of the darkness and stood as shadows along the shoreline. “Thank you for coming, captain,” a man called out. “We’d about given up. There’s talk that the demons killed all of the men brave enough to cross the Channel.”
“Not all of us,” Patel said. “How many are you?”
“Nineteen, sir. We’ve got five children.”
“I can take sixty. Are there any others about?”
“They’re scattered up along the coast, captain. Every day the demons’ numbers grow. They hunt us constantly.”
“Let’s get you aboard. We’ll sort out what direction we want to go later.” Patel turned back to his crew and gave out orders. He crossed to Simon and Leah. “You have a choice to make, Mr. Cross, Miss Creasey. You can journey with us a while longer, or you can get out here. I don’t need the space yet.”
“I’m going to take my chances here,” Simon said. “If the demons haven’t found these people yet, then perhaps it’s safe enough for now.”
“All right. Miss Creasey?”
“I’ll stay.”
“Help us get these people aboard, then I’ll see to it you’re provisioned as we agreed.”
Simon helped row an inflatable dinghy to shore, then tied a rope to one of the nearby trees. Shouldering the rifle, his senses alert to the night around them, he helped load the dinghy with the survivors.
He was appalled at their condition. It was easy to see that they hadn’t been eating or resting enough. Even the children looked haggard and hollow-eyed, more like stick-people than humans.
The first group in the dinghy was quickly pulled in to Dauntless and helped aboard. Then the dinghy was pulled back by rope and the second group was loaded, leaving only three men on the shore with the security crew Patel had established.
The demons attacked without warning.
Simon felt them there in the darkness before he saw them. Wheeling around to face the thick copse of trees just back of the shoreline, he saw moonlight set fire to a half-dozen pairs of yellow eyes.
Then the demons vaulted into motion, hurling themselves through the trees without a sound. They were only vaguely humanoid, bipedal, but with tree trunk-like arms and legs and powerful bodies. Their heads were too large for their bodies, but they moved sinuously all the same. Three thick projections flared out from the top of the head and a circle of six eyes flared around a central orb.
Darkspawn. Simon recognized them at once from his lessons. They were Primus caste, driven by curiosity.
Simon didn’t bother yelling a warning. He lifted the .50-cal rifle to his shoulder, aimed by instinct, and fired. The heavy rifle thundered and the blowback from the blast hit him in a wave of warm air. His bullet sped true, though, slamming into the center mass of his target.
The Darkspawn tumbled back, hissing in outrage as it went down. Bright green blood showed in the center of its chest. It flailed its arms and pushed itself to its feet.
Squeezing the trigger again and again, Simon hit the Darkspawn twice more. One of the bullets actually shattered one of the spikes protruding from the Darkspawn’s massive head. But it wasn’t dead. It pulled out a weapon, threw its hand forward, and fired.
A beam of violet heat blazed by Simon’s head. If he hadn’t been in motion, the beam would have taken his head off.
Men screamed in pain as some of Patel’s crew met their deaths.
Simon ran behind the three survivors still on shore. He shoved them toward the water. “Swim! Now!” He considered jumping into the water, but he knew that they’d have no chance.
The three survivors ran into the water and started swimming when they couldn’t run anymore.
Leah, Simon was surprised to see, had already dropped to one knee and brought up the H&K MP-5 machine pistol Patel had equipped her with. She fired in controlled three-round bursts. He’d expected to see her frozen in fear.
Or dead.
Even though she was still alive, even though she was still fighting, Simon didn’t expect either of them would live through the next few minutes. Only two of Patel’s shore party remained. One of them died when the gunners aboard Dauntless opened fire, his body ripped apart by a 20 mm cannon shell.
The air suddenly filled with bullets and cannon fire. The 20 mm cannon left man-sized craters in the rocky ground and flaming trees.
Caught between the demons and friendly fire, Simon knew they couldn’t stay there. The water wasn’t safe either. From the corner of his eye, he saw two of the men burned to blackened husks then sink beneath the incoming waves.
He caught Leah’s arm. “Get up. Run.” He pulled her into motion, surprised at her strength.
Thankfully she recognized the vulnerability of their position. She fell in behind Simon as they skirted the approaching demon party and ran more deeply into the woods. If they had enough time, he felt certain they could lose themselves in the forest. Darkspawn were scavengers, used to trolling around in the remnants of cities, according to the books Simon had read and according to his instructors. In the wild, he believed they had a chance.
He ran, but he knew the Darkspawn were faster than they were. And probably not as hampered with the weapons they carried. The Barrett was over twenty pounds of serious hardware.
In seconds, the rendezvous point on the shoreline had become a conflagration. Flames twisted up through the branches, sending a steady rain of flames shooting up into the sky. Noise of machine-gun fire and cannon fire thundered along the coast.
Simon kept the Barrett in front of him, wishing he had his sword, wishing he had his armor. With those he at least stood a chance against his enemies.
Unless even those can’t make a difference. The stories he’d heard about the dead “knights” that had been seen in London led him to believe that maybe not even those Templar-created items would serve. They were outnumbered there. They didn’t use tactics. They were overconfident. But he didn’t know if he believed that.
Branches whipped at Simon’s face. He held the rifle up to ward some of them off, but the effort didn’t do as much good as he would have liked. Deadly violet beams from the Darkspawn weapon felled trees and started fires.
A dead tree filled the path in front of Simon. He placed a palm on the tree and vaulted it, pausing only long enough to glance back, leveling the Barrett automatically.
Leah leaped over the fallen tree like an Olympic athlete, never even breaking stride. Patel’s crew member scrambled and hit the tree all wrong. Before he could get over, one of the four Darkspawn that followed him grabbed his head in one massive hand. The demon closed its fist and blood spurted as the man’s head collapsed.
Thirteen
S imon fired almost point-blank into the Darkspawn’s face. He was aiming at one of the eyes and hoping that was a weak point even for the Barrett. The 50 caliber round smashed through the eye, pulping it. The demon staggered back into its mates, holding up the chase for a moment. The wounded one dropped its victim and roared in rage.
In the next moment 20 mm cannon fire raked the forest, toppling trees. Simon felt the vibrations climb through his legs as he turned back toward Leah.
The young woman stood with her back to a tree, peering back at the demons. She changed magazines on the machine pistol. Panic showed in her eyes, but she sounded almost calm as she yelled, “We’re not going to make it! They’re too fast!”
“Run!” Simon ordered, shoving her into motion. They didn’t have a choice.
Leah led the way through the forest, dodging trees and boulders, skidding down leaf-covered and snow-covered inclines that had turned to mud. They barely kept their feet most of the time.
And the Darkspawn pursued.
Without warning, another group came up on their right. Simon spotted them in the darkness, then Leah threw up a hand and shouted a warning.
“Left!” Simon yelled, surging past her and charging in that direction. His breath burned the back of his throat. The fog burned his eyes.
A purple beam blazed a trench in front of him. Unable to change directions, Simon tried to leap across it, but the side gave way and he fell before he could jump. He rolled, hanging on to the Barrett because even though it wouldn’t kill the demons, it was at least a weapon.
Something caught Simon’s foot and wouldn’t let go.
Controlling the panic that soared through him, Simon rolled over onto his back and gazed up at the Darkspawn. Simon kicked twice, trying to free himself, but didn’t succeed. His foot simply struck the demon’s chest and stopped. Simon’s ankle screamed in pain at the impacts.
The demon laughed while it maintained a crushing grip on Simon’s leg.
Thrusting the Barrett between them, Simon fired into its face. The bullet ricocheted, coming almost straight back and burying into the ground only inches from Simon’s head. He swung the rifle, hoping to use it as a club to break free of the Darkspawn’s grip.
The creature swept an arm out almost lazily. The impact ripped the rifle from Simon’s fingers and broke the Barrett into pieces. Fingers numb, Simon watched helplessly as the rifle bounced off nearby trees and finally fell to the ground twenty feet away.
“Die, hu-man!” the demon shrieked. According to the ancient texts, the Darkspawn had limited ability to speak, but they’d already picked up the English language. They served as spies and were quick-witted enough to be intuitive about prey and technology.
Simon gripped the Darkspawn’s powerful wrist in both his hands. Straining, Simon tried to break free of the inexorable grip. Unable to match the creature in strength, Simon searched for nerve clusters he could inflict pain to. The scaly hide seemed impenetrable, though. Black comets swirled in his vision. He tried to breathe…couldn’t.
Then the Darkspawn’s grotesque head leaped from its broad shoulders in a spray of green ichors. Simon thought he was hallucinating. He knew from experience that he was on the edge of blacking out.
A mailed fist, dark steely gray with a ruby undercurrent glowing beneath the surface, seized the thumb of the Darkspawn’s hand around Simon’s throat and pulled. The demon’s bones broke with loud snaps that penetrated even the cannon fire.
Simon sucked in a greedy breath that felt like fire to his lungs. He stared up at the armored knight standing over him. The Templar’s armor was so shiny while in Engaged mode—with the NanoDyne technology devoting so much of its energy to hardening the shields—that Simon could see his own features in the smooth faceplate.
“Simon?” The amplified voice sounded strange in Simon’s ears for just a moment. It also sounded surprised.
It took Simon only a moment to place the voice. He was helped by the fact that the armor couldn’t disguise the womanly curves of his savior.
“Giselle?” Simon said, surprised as well.
The Templar offered her hand. Simon took the hand and allowed her to help him get to his feet. He’d known Giselle Fletcher since they’d been children. She was his age and they’d been reared in the same Underground complex.
“Yes,” Giselle replied. For a moment she allowed her faceplate to “ghost,” turn translucent enough to permit him to see her features. She was a beautiful redhead with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Her gray eyes were warm, but they looked more tired than Simon could ever recall. “Hadn’t fancied on meeting you out here, love.”
“It doesn’t seem like the place to be.” Simon’s heart leaped and he took strength in Giselle’s presence. Looking beyond her, he spotted five other Templar battling Darkspawn with blades as well as sidearms.
A demon lifted its weapon and fired. Giselle blocked the deadly purple beam with her shield. The beam lit up the image of the tall cross with a hippogriff wound round it. Although Simon couldn’t see the image, he knew it would be there. He’d watched Giselle make her shield down in the Templar forge.
The energy beam reflected up and away, cutting through trees and dropping branches down.
