Nemesis: Book Four (7 page)

"I'll call you back," the President said and Kenneth Marks heard the line drop.

"Good bye, sir," he said before placing the phone back into his pocket. He looked out the tent’s flap for a few more seconds. He saw the growth he told the President about, could see a direct line to it, all the tents in front of this one purposefully placed to reveal how close it was moving. It looked beautiful in the night light. Peaceful.

"Bring me the bag, please. The bag with the piece of growth in it," Kenneth Marks said to whoever was listening. "Has anyone thought of a name for it? I'm not fond of calling it the growth."

"White cake," Knox said.

"White cake?"

"Like yellow cake. Whatever this is, it's as bad as anything nuclear."

Kenneth Marks shrugged. "Sounds good. Someone bring me the cake, then."

He didn't look up as the person approached, only took the bag handed to him. He had seen it through satellite images, seen it with the moon shining down upon it, but until now, he hadn’t seen it up close. The creature sitting in the cage created this. He had seen Sherman up close, but it was a different material than this. Sherman was a sponge, but these things were tiny wires. They looked hard, stronger than Sherman. Nothing like cake, except for icing perhaps—the purity of its white nearly startling.

"What's this?" he asked as he turned the bag over. A tiny orange bubble grew up from the wires.

"It appeared today, but we've been somewhat busy so I haven't looked into it," Knox said.

Kenneth Marks spread the bag out a bit more, so that the nonporous material flattened across the orange object. The bubble didn't move at all, but poked upward into the bag. It was hard, like glass or plastic.

He looked at it, wondering what it could be. He took in all the sensory data around him, even bringing the bag to his nose to smell its odor. Nothing he did though opened up any paths in his mind. This was something new, completely new, like the creature in the cage. The creature would have to tell him what it was, because although he could see the orange color inside….

Click
.

His mind found the track it wanted.

The color. Different than the creature's, but similar too. It wasn't opaque; Kenneth Marks could see through it just as he saw through the green surrounding the alien. Was it… one like her? Another one? And if so, were they growing out there in that field of white, growing like corn crops, populating everything that the cake spread over?

Possible.

Probable, even. And did that change things? If he held one of this thing's children, did that give him leverage? Or could it hurt him in some way, hurt what he was trying to do?

The majority of people on Earth, indeed the vast majority, would have jumped to a conclusion based on instinct. Kenneth Marks' mind traveled down multiple paths at once, but with one guiding factor underlying each path like asphalt under cars: his wants came first.

The paths led him to a certainty; this changed nothing. Not yet. He would still act as he had planned, and this might actually help his cause. Because if this orange capsule was actually one of
her
own, then he would kill them all. He would wipe out an entire species, just as she threatened to do with him.

They were similar, even if she didn't realize it yet. He saw it clearly and it was his job to make her see it, because when she did, the truth would be like staring into the sun, so bright it could blind.

His phone began vibrating again and Kenneth Marks brought it to his ear.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're sure about this. You're sure this is the only option we have?"

"I may have just found out something new that increases our need to use your pass-codes. It appears that this alien is multiplying, actually creating young." He let the words hang over the airwaves, wanting them to soak into the President's brain like marinade into a steak.

"Send me the information; if you're right, we'll strike tonight."

K
enneth Marks looked at Rigley
.

She was staring outside the car's window.

They were driving away from Georgia, getting out of the blast zone. He had already developed the plan, one that would drop a neutron bomb low enough so the wind couldn't catch too much of the radiation and throw it to neighboring states. As long as he cleared Georgia, nothing would die but animals and plants.

Rigley knew what was coming; Kenneth Marks made it known, had to so that Knox removed his troops from the blast zone as well. They were all traveling to the same place, moving headquarters to a new location, though none of that mattered much to Kenneth Marks. Will's body traveled with them, locked up in the same cage, and soon the neutron bomb would drop down and end much of the creature's ideas about the power she held here.

That's when Kenneth Marks would come forth, would let her know that they were kin—if not physically, than mentally, and that she would teach him, unless she wanted to die as well.

He was going to ascend.

First, though, he needed to deal with Rigley.

Because she wasn't getting out of this unscathed. No one sees the Wizard, no way, no how.

"Rigley," he said, speaking softly as he looked away, out his own window.

"Kenneth," she said.

She was mocking him. He heard it in her tone, heard it in the way she simply repeated his name. The only reason that Kenneth Marks had made it this far in life flowed from his consummate ability to control all emotions, to keep from taking the little bitch's head and smashing it straight through the window. He'd dealt with controlling these emotions since three years old, when he first realized that the people around him would never be anything more than objects for him to move.

So he would control it now.

And once he had his fun, he
would
kill her. Maybe an accident. Maybe not.

"It's time for you to make a choice," he said. "Whether or not we drop this thing."

She said nothing, just continued staring out the window, her body moving slightly with the car's motion.

"I told the President we needed to, but in the end, it's your call. You're in charge of this operation, not me," he whispered loud enough for her to hear, though anyone in the front seat wouldn't be able to decipher what he said. "I want to be honest with you, Rigley, because I want you to understand the moral peril that comes from both sides of the coin. If you don't drop it, this alien will spread. It's already moving into the surrounding towns, Loganville, Snellville, the larger Gwinnett County area. It's not just the white cake either, this isn't Bolivia redux. There's life out there on that white shit covering the whole county. Life like the one we saw flying around."

He turned to her, positioning his whole body so that it faced Rigley.

"If you decide not to drop it, people will die. I don't know how many, but it's going to be hard to stop the spread.

"And if you do drop the bomb…." He paused, taking in a breath and letting it out slow. "You're going to wipe out her species. This isn't like when you wiped out Sherman, a relatively unintelligent plant. These creatures, from everything we can tell, are much like us. Emotions. Intelligence—"

"I'll be committing genocide," Rigley said.

Kenneth Marks stopped speaking. He was laying it on thick, wanting her to really think about what it all meant, wanting her to make the connections between what she had already done and what she was about to do. Had it been too thick? Because she still stared out the window, adequately capturing exactly what would happen, but her voice wasn't shaking. Tears didn't cloud her eyes.

"And you're okay with that?" he said. "You're okay knowing you're going to murder a species, regardless of your decision?"

R
igley made
it across the white room.

She didn't realize until she got to the other side that she wasn't wearing shoes. She didn't know when she took them off—or if she had ever worn any at all—but when she looked down she saw her bare feet.

She didn't mind. The floor beneath felt cool and there was nothing to fear in here. This room was peaceful, more so than any other she traveled to in these corridors. A room of bright, white light, illuminating all fears and worries—showing that they didn’t really exist.

And now she stood in front of the worst fear of all. The one that inhabited the highest floor of her mind, the one that followed her through the other rooms, pushed her onward and onward, until she thought she outran it. In fact, she only ran to it. In this room, before her now.

Kenneth Marks looked straight ahead. He wore one of his suits, though she paid little attention to it. She concentrated on his face, looking at his skin, trying to understand if he was real or just a statue. It only took a moment, though, to see that this was the real thing. Kenneth Marks.

And he wasn't a creature from beneath.

He wasn't some dark force behind her, not letting her turn around, not letting her run.

He was a man, wearing a suit, and only a few inches taller than she. He was thin, not possessing any physical qualities that made him dangerous. His field training was probably nil—Rigley had killed before, but had he? She doubted it. She doubted he ever did anything besides direct others.

Rigley heard his voice now, but it was muffled, sounding like a loudspeaker outside of this room. Someone shouting into it, trying to tell her something. She knew it was Marks, and she could make out some of his words if she really wanted to, but the thing was… she didn't want to. This figure in front of her told her everything she needed to hear. It said he was just a man, and that when taken from the shadows of the rooms below, he was nothing to look on with either fear or awe. She didn't have to run from him anymore, didn't have to live her life hoping that he wouldn't come down on her. She saw him now, in full, and he could only use words against her. Everything else was just thoughts in her head, thoughts that she let dictate for too long.

What was he asking her? She would need to respond at some point. It's just that it really didn't matter, because now that she saw him in this white light, she realized she could kill him if she wanted.

"Genocide," she said, still looking at Marks' body. "That's what he's asking me to do."

By using the bomb, the hammer, she would wipe out an entire species. By not using it, she would sentence her own species to death.

But they didn’t have to take that path, not at all. Neither of these two groups needed to die; why couldn't they live together?

They could.

She knew it.

Rigley saw the alien attack, but what had humanity done to her first? They pointed guns and tanks and every other weapon the infantry possessed at her. They threatened her life, so what was she supposed to do? Rigley did the same, in Bolivia. Rigley faced down a group ready to tear her apart, and committed murder so that she could live and finish the job. That didn't mean Rigley wanted to do it, and it didn't mean this creature wanted to do it either.

It's what she had to do.

Rigley needed to find a way to merge the two species, find a way to bring them together. They could live in peace just like Rigley could inside this white room.

Yet she owed Marks an answer.

If she could navigate through this test, when she passed, Rigley would go to her—to the alien, and they would make things right.

Rigley didn't notice at all, but her feet were slightly warmer than when she first entered the room—the floor having heated just a bit.

"
W
hat happens
if it doesn't kill them?" Rigley said.

"It will. Nothing on Earth can survive that amount of radiation. It rips through DNA, the very structure of it," Kenneth Marks said.

"She's not from Earth, and neither is whatever she brought with her. Is there anything on Earth that can stand up to fire?"

Kenneth Marks watched as she stared out the window. She hadn't looked over at him since they started this ride, and she wasn't now either. Normally he would think her avoidance of him was due to fear, but even with these questions, Kenneth Marks didn't see fear in her. Was it hate? No, he didn't think there was any real malice associated with her. Apathy? Yes; he thought that would describe it best. She didn't look at him because she couldn't bring herself to care enough.

"It will kill them, Rigley, and even if it doesn't, what choice do we have?" Her apathy could be dealt with. She might feel it right now, within the protection of this vehicle and his grace, but what about when the choice was upon her? She wouldn't be able to feel anything but stark fear once the time came for her to murder again.

Let her have this right now. You don't need to worry about it, because in the end, she'll break
.

"What's it going to be?" Kenneth Marks said.

R
igley didn't feel panicked
, though a week ago she wouldn't have been able to function if Marks had said these things to her. She didn't have a choice in this, despite what he told her. She would have to order the bomb dropped and hope that it harmed nothing out there. She had to hope that what she did next would be forgiven when she went to the alien and gave her humanity's hand. Maybe in that act, she could be forgiven for Bolivia, too.

She had one more vicious act to do, and when it was over, she would leave. She would escape and go to whatever creature waited in that town, and together they would create a world where
everyone
could live. She had been waiting for this, even if she didn't know it. The rest of her life, the death of her child, what they did in Bolivia, all of it had been to teach her the importance of this moment. The importance of love. The importance of life. That's what she was going to do, give life, and in that, she would find forgiveness.

Rigley looked from the window to Marks.

"Let's do it," she said. "Like you told the President, we're out of options."

T
he black town
car parked in front of the tent. The same tent that Knox had been in for the past two days, with no idea when he would be able to leave. And, the black town car was probably the same one that always carried around the fucking psycho it now held. Knox didn't know how the woman could stand to ride with Marks. Knox thought he had hated the man before, speaking to him over the phone, but he hadn't known his skin could literally crawl across his frame until Kenneth Marks stood in front of him.

The General didn't know what happened when Marks went into the room with the creature. Knox refused to think of it as Will anymore. He had watched as they loaded up the thing's cage, and it only sat there staring straight ahead, like a vegetable with eyes. Something happened when Marks went in there though, because to come out and tell the president a bomb was needed—after so actively refusing to drop one—didn’t make much sense. Maybe it spoke to Marks, though he didn't seem scared when he exited. He possessed his normal calm, his sense of complete control… and yet, here they were, setting up camp far enough out to watch the fireworks.

Won't be any of those
, he thought.

Knox knew the US had used a neutron before, but always in very limited capacities. Drug dealers owning a small section of a South American country. Guerrillas in the jungle. Jobs where no one really cared what happened to the victims. Today’s drop was different. They planned on draping radiation across an entire American county, and hope to God that it didn't spread when the wind blew. If it did, public fallout would be nearly as bad as the radiation fallout. Yet, here they were, ready to do it.

He didn't know how things had gotten away from them. Since the moment this whole ordeal began, the creature had been a step ahead—from Will first arriving until now, and with this one bomb, they were going to try and play catch up.

Marks got out of one side of the car, Rigley the other. The second woman—Jenna—stepped out from the front passenger seat, and the driver stayed in place. He might have been the smartest person out of the whole lot, not getting involved anymore than he had to.

Knox watched as Marks approached, smiling that fucking smile—the one that said he was just so happy to be here, so happy to be around everyone, so happy
they
were
here
.

"If I get a chance, I'll kill him," Knox said, his lips barely moving and his voice hardly escaping his mouth.

"General, sorry, I didn't catch that," Marks said as he reached Knox. He stuck his hand out, ready to glad-hand. Knox obliged, though he did it slowly. Rigley offered nothing to anyone; her eyes searched the premises while the rest of the group met again.

What's she looking for?
Knox asked himself as he shook Jenna's hand.
She doesn't look scared, seems as calm as Marks, but her eyes are bouncing around the tents like ping-pong balls.

"Sorry, didn't come out as loud as I wanted. I said welcome, have you heard from the President?" Knox said, looking back to Marks.

"I did. We're ready to go as soon as Rigley is. They're watching from Washington, and will be in touch within five to ten minutes of it being over. Is everything set-up from your end?"

"Yes, sir. The plane is circling the county now, though not venturing over the white cake. We want to try to keep it out of harm's way, keep whatever happened to the other aircraft from happening to this one."

"Of course, of course," Marks said. "A horse, of course." He smiled at the little joke. Knox didn't. "Shall we go ahead and get started?"

He walked past Knox, heading into the huge tent.

K
enneth Marks could barely keep
from dancing. He usually didn't move if he could help it—his moving patterns more like a snake than a human, only moving when it was necessary or beneficial. Senseless movement was just that, without sense. Yet, right now his emotions were trying to take control, trying to force him out of his usual element. He was just so goddamn giddy. Things couldn’t be anymore perfect, because when he finished her—
finished
Rigley—then he could return to the business of the alien.

Break Rigley first, then the alien. Dry run before the live run.

Years and years he had waited for this, waited on Rigley to crack. Waited on what happened in Bolivia, on what happened with her child, waited for a situation in which those two things would culminate and he could watch a mind snap. And now it was time. Right here. In this tent. With these people surrounding him, soldiers and civilians alike, they were about to witness planning that they would never see again. They would witness it without even realizing it occurred.

Marks didn't look at Rigley. Didn't want to. Not yet. He wanted everything to be absolutely perfect, and it would be. God, it would.

The bank of computers was lined up on the tables, each table's end touching another's, so that it looked like a cafeteria—except for the million dollars worth of equipment on top. Marks knew what they were for, though he had no part in designing them. They were connected to the CIA, FBI, and NSA mainframes. These computers were the country’s brain, ready to spit out real-time data from every corner of the world. A row of techies sat right in front of the computers, too, because Lord knew the people under Knox wouldn't be able to decipher any of what the machines spat out. The computers were here to tell them what the world said after the bomb dropped in Grayson. The president had a set as well, though due to the lack of visibility into the town, the group here would use high-powered binoculars to see across miles, to see if the white cake died. The president would see anything that happened outside of Grayson, but the inside still looked like it had two days ago. No change, and everyone involved knew that simply wasn't true.

Kenneth Marks walked across the room to the end of the computers, and looked down at the techie sitting on the edge. "This is the one?"

"Yes, sir," the woman said without looking up.

"Rigley, will you come over here, please?" He still didn't turn to her, wasn't ready. He wanted to see her for the first time, anew, looking at the flat computer screen showing a code she wouldn't understand, but knowing what the code would do. He wanted to see fear dawn on her face.

"Rigley Plasken is going to be the one to launch the attack, okay?" he said to the woman.

"Yes, sir."

He listened as her footsteps moved across the floor; there were others too, but he didn't single those out. Only Rigley's.

He felt her standing next to him, and still he didn't look.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said.

"What does she need to do, ma'am?" Kenneth Marks said to the techie.

"She just needs to hit enter. The pass-code is attached," the woman said. "When she hits enter, a light will appear in the pilot's plane, and he'll have the clear to initiate." The techie didn't move, only stared straight ahead at the computer. Kenneth Marks realized that she was scared, that she understood what was about to happen. And if
she
was scared, then good Lord, Rigley was going to freak.

"Alright, Rigley, are you ready?" he said.

T
he screen was
full of green letters and numbers. It looked like something from The Matrix, though the computer screens were much further advanced than anything that existed in 1999.

Rigley only needed to press enter. After that, everything was over. The hold that Marks had on her would release, and she could go find the creature on the other side. Go find the creature and try to make peace.

As long as the creature survived. That was what mattered here. If she didn't, if she died, then….

Nononononono.

Her mind forced the thought away as day does the night. Ifs didn’t belong here, no place in her thoughts for the alien not surviving. She would live and that was all that mattered. Rigley couldn't contemplate what it would mean if the creature died. Rigley couldn't go down that path, because it surely ended in insanity. Survival mattered here—and she had to hope that the creature would live through this. Rigley's life depended on it.

Go on,
she thought.
Go on and get this part of your life over with. You press that button and Kenneth Marks dies, at least to you. You push that button and you're free. Stop thinking about it and make it so. You'll come out the other side of this perfectly.

Rigley looked down at the five letters: E-N-T-E-R.

She reached forward and pressed the button.

K
enneth Marks didn't look
at the screen, didn't look at anyone else in the entire room. He didn't care if the goddamn plane dropped the bomb, at least not in that singular moment. His whole world, in that moment, was Rigley Plasken.

And as her hand moved down, her face didn't change. Kenneth Marks saw it all in nearly slow-motion glory, or what should have been glory, but the
change
didn't occur. At that moment, when her finger touched the key, when her muscles extended just the tiniest bit of force, he should have seen her face twist. Should have seen the physical representation of wires inside her head overheating, breaking, fusing with those they shouldn't.

Instead, she pressed the button, and then simply put her hand to her side, watching the computer screen to see if anything happened.

People surrounded Kenneth Marks, perhaps a hundred. The inner circle contained he and Rigley, then Knox and Jenna, and outside that all of Knox's men. They all stared at the screen, stared at Kenneth Marks, stared at Rigley.

He
was the
only
one not staring forward. Because
he
stared at
Rigley
.

And everything, all the planning, all the thought, slipped from his fingers, the same as sand through a strainer. All lost in a single moment.

The emotions that had commanded Kenneth Marks to dance around the room died. A cold, cold rage swept through him. Not a muscle in his body moved, no inkling as to what occurred inside him showed—but in that moment, he decided he would kill her in the most painful way imaginable. He decided to flay Rigley. He would peel back her skin while she looked on, starting with her extremities. He would take his time. He would do it over days, making sure that she didn't bleed out. Moving up her body, peeling away the skin one strip at a time, trying his best to keep infection from growing, because he wanted to make her watch him peel her tits off. Wanted to feed her fucking nipple to her. And finally, when he was ready to let her die, he would peel her face right off her fucking skull, so she was nothing but a goddamn meat statue.

That would be fun.

Not as much fun as what she just took from him—stealing his dry run from him at the moment of ecstasy—but enjoyable, certainly. She owed him that, now, even if she didn't realize it. There had been an
agreement
here, one that she knew about even if only subconsciously. Kenneth Marks allowed her career to blossom, all the while knowing that she would break—and she had to fucking know it too. Her mental state was never created to withstand what Kenneth Marks put on it. And now, when the time came for her to pay up, she welched.

He saw her in his mind, raw, bleeding, and screaming. That image was the only thing that kept Kenneth Marks from losing his mind.

He had to wait, though. He couldn't do it now—God, no, not with all these people around him. But when this ended, she would understand how bad she just fucked up. She would see and see and see.