Prime, p.13
Prime, page 13
part #13 of Nathan K Series
In a whispery rush, a single word escaped Nathan’s lips. “No.”
Rearing back as if he had opened a package of spoiled meat, the Cardinal said, “The worm doesn’t comprehend.”
“I said No.” Though he spoke stronger, Nathan hoped it would end there. Any more speaking, he feared his voice would shake.
“But you are here now. There is no going back.”
A tremble formed in his hand. His pectorals constricted. Even his legs shivered. “It’s over? Am I permanently dead?”
“You can be. Or you can be with us.”
The Cardinal put out his hand. A pale, boney hand that looked every bit as frozen as the Darkness. Nathan wanted to push it away.
But he held still.
Take the hand, join the Darkness, join the Cardinal, never fear permanent death again, and have incredible power, too. Not a bad deal. Besides, what was the alternative? Float off into the nothing forever. Just another soul. Plus, if he joined, he would be able to help Robin for the rest of her life. Perhaps he could be good luck to her, or if the Cardinal spoke the truth, perhaps he could be Fate itself. Then again, Robin didn’t need him as some ethereal being, some insane mystic that appeared whenever and spoke nonsense prophecies. She would do better to spend time dealing with his death and be done with it. Yet to join meant Larkin would lose. Nathan would become the boss, and that could last thousands of years. Would he even care to rule? Once he joined, would he lose his desires, his aspirations, his ambitions?
Nathan turned his head to take in all the nothingness around him. He hated the shiver in his throat, but he pictured Robin and said, “No. If it’s time to face my death, then that’s it.”
The Cardinal closed his hand into a fist. He shifted as if hearing a voice — the Darkness, maybe? Nathan watched the Cardinal’s chin pushed outward. He shook his head, then rolled his body away. The unspoken argument continued until at length, the Cardinal nodded with obvious regret.
“The worm clings to its worminess. It is not ready to ascend to greatness.” His sullen sneer pivoted as he whirled toward Nathan. He bared his teeth like an animal. “You dare make me wait. You will regret.”
Nathan saw his own terrified face reflected in those mirrored glasses and braced for the Cardinal’s seething wrath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A blizzard bit into Nathan’s face. It shoved him hard, sent him twirling through the empty void. He flipped and folded, and the cold air blew his hair back.
That caught his attention.
Air. Wind. Not the Darkness.
He flopped onto the rooftop of Building Two, bruising his side and banging his head against the hard surface. The frigid Norwegian air attempted to ice over the sheen of sweat on his body. No longer tumbling, his brain needed a few moments to settle the world back into stillness.
He allowed himself three deep breaths. Each one reawakened his senses after being muted by the Darkness. When he finally pushed to his feet, he found everyone on the roof in the same positions he had left them. Even their expressions had not changed. He shouldn’t have been surprised — he had used the Darkness to attack with astonishing speed before — but the idea that all which had transpired with the Cardinal and the Darkness occurred in a fraction of a second shook him.
Or maybe I’m simply amazed to be alive.
“What was all that?” Robin said. “How did you do that? What did you do?”
“Um …”
“Where’s the Cardinal?” Octavia asked.
“You flickered,” Robin said. “Like you were here then not then you fell from where you weren’t. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Nathan regarded the rooftop, taking in the astonished gazes, and wondered how much to share. He opened his mouth twice but could not find the words. At length, he managed, “I think I made a choice.”
“About what?”
Larkin curled his lip and spit to the side. “He sold us out.”
“Nathan wouldn’t,” Robin said.
“Of course, he would. You’ve all seen how powerful the Cardinal is. Why wouldn’t Nathan want a piece of that?”
Surprised at how close Larkin had come to the truth of the offer, Nathan could only shake his head. His words would mean nothing. Larkin would never believe anything he said. Robin would never entertain any doubts she had. Octavia would search fruitlessly for some hidden meaning, and Anton would not care at all.
All like little worms locked in their wriggling paths.
Nathan wanted to throw up again, but he had nothing left inside.
Without a forthcoming answer, Larkin’s blast of bravado shriveled. Bordering on a whimper, he said, “Is the Cardinal coming back?”
All eyes lifted to the sky. A light snow started to fall.
“We should go.” Nathan headed toward the elevator. “Trust me on this. When the Cardinal returns, you don’t want to be anywhere near him.”
Larkin rushed over, grasped part of Nathan’s shirt, and yanked him back. With a desperate whine, he said, “What did you do?”
“I may have saved your life. Maybe everybody’s life.”
“From what? The Cardinal was never a threat to us.”
“Not until he changes his mind. But I put that off. Possibly saved all humanity from world domination. Hard to tell with the way the Cardinal speaks.”
“You’re a liar.”
Nathan put out his hand toward Robin. “We need to go.”
“Don’t leave me here,” Anton said.
“Wouldn’t think of it. Come with us. Besides, you humans only get one soul. Far too precious to waste.”
Nathan winked at Octavia as he wrenched his arm free from Larkin. He succeeded in taking two steps towards the elevator, two steps in which he thought they might leave this place with ease. He dared to consider the possibility that the Cardinal had remained in the Darkness. After all, the Cardinal had implied they would be waiting — in anger, but waiting. That could have meant an hour, a day, several lifetimes. No way to know for sure.
That all changed with one frightening sound.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
Ten feet above, he floated with his feet pointed down like a ballerina on toes. His head lowered, and though Nathan could not read the Prime’s thoughts, he knew them anyway. No doubt, the Cardinal looked upon them all as worthless and insignificant. Little worms, indeed.
Only now, Nathan had done the unthinkable. At least, unthinkable to the Cardinal. Centuries ago, the Cardinal had accepted the Darkness and its offer. He could not comprehend Nathan turning away from such a gift.
“This is between us,” Nathan said, pushing Robin to the elevator door. “You have no reason to hurt anybody else here.” He paused. Then: “Maybe Larkin.”
The Cardinal raised his arms straight overhead. “Live. Die. It matters not. Until you are no longer slithering in the muck, you are nothing.”
Larkin leapt forward several feet before dropping to his knees. “Please, I beg you. I’ve done all you’ve ever asked. Allow me to continue serving you.”
“This one grovels, the others stare with fear, and even her —” The Cardinal pointed a boney finger at Octavia. “I thought one day she might be worthy. But it’s the defiance in her eyes that betrays the weakness in her soul. Just like you.”
Nathan said, “You want to have this fight? Fine. Take me back into the Darkness. Take me and spare these people. Simple as that.”
“You’ve already chosen to be with them. So be with them.”
The Cardinal clapped his hands together and a burst of clear energy shot between his fingers, pushing the snow as a solid, translucent ball expanding around him. He breathed in deeply, and the ball contracted until it fell within his chest. He held that breath — just a second long, just enough to flash vengeful satisfaction at Nathan — before he plummeted straight down into the building.
Fast as a bullet, he slammed into the rooftop and disappeared within. Nathan dashed across to the edge and peered over.
A flash of orange light. A whomp of air. Glass blew outward, peppering the snow and startling the soldiers surrounding the entranceway.
The building started to shake. Cracks formed along the rooftop, spidering in all directions. The sharp odor of broken gas lines mixed with the oddly pleasant aroma of burning walls and doors. Shouting could be heard.
Larkin cried out, “You’ve forsaken us all.”
Nathan stumbled toward Robin, the building beneath them shifting and warping. He wrapped himself around her. “Not all,” he said.
The roof caved in beneath Larkin, and he dropped from sight. Nathan hastened to the newly-formed hole. When he peered down, he discovered Larkin hanging on the lip of the destroyed roof section.
“Please,” Larkin said, sweat and grime staining his suit. “Please, help me up.”
All the years, all the stress and suffering and fear that consumed his day, and now, Nathan simply had to wait — wait and watch. Larkin would tire. Lose his grip. He would plummet, and Nathan would watch.
But that was the way of the Prime, of the Darkness, of the Nathan capable of leaving Dr. Kempo in strips.
This Nathan could be better. He had to be.
Squatting near the edge, Nathan reached down. “Don’t even think about thanking me. You feel grateful — you thank Robin.”
Straining one hand up, Larking said, “Yes, yes, of course.”
“You know you’re done.”
“I know.”
“No more deals, no more missions, nothing.”
Larkin lunged upward and clasped Nathan’s hand. “I’ll give it all up. Just don’t let me get buried. Don’t let me die twice under there.”
Hauling the man halfway out of the hole, Nathan flushed with warmth. He glanced at Robin. She had been right. He had killed Larkin without killing. The old Larkin had been vanquished. This new version had the potential to —
“Bastard.” Octavia rushed forward and blasted four holes in Larkin’s chest. He fell back, flipping as he dropped away.
The rest of the roof followed. As Nathan felt the support beneath him disappear, he caught a final moment — Octavia lunging toward Anton.
Robin screamed, pulling her legs up into a ball while Nathan tried to cover as much of her as possible. They slammed into the floor below. Bits of ceiling, glass and carpeting, desks and computers, shards, slivers, and whole chunks battered Nathan’s back and head. As he shielded Robin, they fell through the dust and dirt. The splitting wood and sheering steel encased them. Floor after floor, they slammed into one obstacle, then another, unable to discern what they hit or where they were.
Acting without thought, Nathan reached out for the Darkness. To walk side by side with that power, he knew he could save Robin with ease.
But the Darkness was not there. He could not feel it in the background, either. Those abilities he had come to rely on were gone.
The building’s collapse lasted seconds, felt like minutes, and when they finally stopped, they didn’t move for what seemed like hours. They held still, listening to the rain of debris plinking against the rubble on the ground. When Nathan dared to peek over his shoulder, he spotted bits of sunlight cutting through the thick black and gray smoke. Sunlight. Resting atop the mound of destruction with only bits of the ceiling covering them, they had managed to avoid getting buried.
When he inhaled to speak, a hot poker stab in his chest promised that one lung no longer worked properly. Despite that scorching pain, he forced out the words. “Are you alive?”
Robin nodded. “I think I broke my hand, maybe a rib or two, but otherwise, I’m fine. I guess I’m going to owe you a big one for this.”
“Want to pay me back right now? I’m in a lot of pain.”
“I can’t really move until you get off me. What can I do?”
“This is a big ask, but if you kill me, I’ll heal. Then I can get us both out of here.”
She said nothing, but he heard her shocked gasp. He waited. If she couldn’t do it, he would understand. Eventually, somebody would help free them. Or he might simply die on his own.
“Don’t worry, Robin,” Octavia said as she pulled rubble away from them. “I’ll save you the trauma.”
With a swift motion, she pulled back Nathan’s head and ran a knife across his throat. The blood sprayed out, covering Robin, but nobody acted surprised or disgusted.
As his second soul left him, a shiver rushed up his spine. He wondered if the Darkness would abandon him completely. Let him die and die again. But then, thankfully, Nathan healed. He saw the Darkness on the edges of his vision. Whether it wanted to or not, it had to do its job. They were all trapped like that, and while the Darkness could refuse to take Nathan’s hand, it could never refuse to take a soul.
By the time the healing finished, Octavia had helped Robin to her feet. Anton stood close by. He had the dazed look of a plane crash survivor. But he had survived. The soldiers tasked with stopping Nathan from leaving had already jumped into rescue mode — organizing efforts to find the living and the dead while also putting out fires and limiting the spread of damage. They had no more time to spend on Nathan or the others.
Getting to his feet, Nathan rubbed his neck and arms. To Octavia: “Where’s Larkin?”
She gestured to the huge pile of bent girders, shattered desks, and busted water pipes that had once been the center of Building Two. Somewhere, underneath all of that, he would be healing. “I don’t know if anyone will get to him before he dies a second time,” she said.
“You sound like you’re going to let that happen.”
“I spent too many decades believing his lies.” She turned away and walked toward the tree line.
Nathan took Robin’s hand. “What happens to us?”
“Last time we talked about this,” Octavia said, as she watched the smoke drift into the trees, “you asked me to take over when Larkin was gone. I intend to do that. There are plenty of people in his organization, and without good leadership, this world could get awfully dark.”
“Doesn’t really answer my question.”
She looked at the two of them, her exhaustion masking other emotions. “Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”
He offered a short nod and turned toward Robin. They needed to leave before anybody changed their minds, but finding a fast route to transportation, then a city, and maybe an airport would take time.
Robin squeezed his hand. “I’m already on it,” she said.
“How do you know I was thinking —”
“Because I know you.”
As they walked away, Anton dropped to his knees and started screaming. The poor man would probably suffer PTSD for the rest of his life. At least, he got to live.
“I’ll take care of him, too,” Robin said. “Don’t worry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The hot sun burned through the morning clouds and heated the sand. Nathan lounged in a beach chair as he watched the gentle waves roll in. Their rhythmic rumble followed by the sizzle of bubbles at the end before the water sucked back into the ocean soothed him. The peace would not last. He knew that. Heck, by midday, he would be antsy to do something, anything — sitting on a beach doing nothing all day had never been his way — but as a starter to the day, he had to admit he liked the calm.
“Good morning,” Robin said, strolling over to the seat next to him. She held a tall glass filled with a fruity concoction that had a red straw and a tiny umbrella.
“Is that virgin or are you hitting hard this early?”
“I don’t think there’s anything virgin on this island, and after all we went through, I’m happy being buzzed nonstop for a few more days.”
“Then we’re not clear yet?”
She shook her head as she sipped on the straw. “No single person, I don’t care if they’re ten times as smart as me, could ever clear all mention of you entirely. There are always fragments of information left behind. Even if my genius could reach the level of erasing every last byte from every last computer, there are still human beings out there. People have memories, and I can’t do anything about that. Somebody might see something or read something that triggers a flash of you, and if that somebody is in law enforcement, a government spook, or just an overly-curious type, they could start poking around. Next thing you know —”
“Somebody’s knocking on the door. I get it. But you know what I meant.”
“You don’t quite get it. Because each time you start blowing things up, it increases the difficulty of erasing you. The big stuff, sure. That’s easy. But those fragments are harder to find. With more and more of them in existence, somebody or a well-designed program could sniff them out, maybe draw some connections. So, yeah, you’ll have to stay in this beautiful paradise a bit longer.”
“What about Clockwork?”
Robin bristled before taking a long pull on her straw. “He’s helping some. It’s the least he could do considering he put a lot of the mess online in the first place. But I’m just as good at this stuff, if not better, and I’m sure he’s finding it was far easier to frame you for stuff than unframe you. Frankly, if you’ll let me speak —”
“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”
“— I don’t trust Octavia all that much anymore. Now that she’s running the Larkin Group, or whatever she renames it, she’s going to be working against us. I mean I hope she isn’t like that, I hope that she turns the whole thing around and stops doing all that nasty crap, but hopes don’t get you far if that’s all you’ve got. Since Clockwork is her hacker, I’d be real careful of anything she might offer.”
