Halcyon's Wake: Faith

Stairwell to Purgatory

Beth lazed on the king-size bed, tucked in between no less than half a dozen pillows, one bare leg peeking out from the cream-colored, silk sheet draped across her. She sipped on her second Mimosa of the morning, idly nibbling on a chocolate-covered strawberry from the fruit-laden silver platter beside her. A sated, languid calm enveloped her, as gentle as the temperate, slightly salty breeze drifting through the open window, lazily stirring the sheer drapes in a slow dance of tranquil perfection that mirrored her own peace. Seabird’s trilled a southern lullaby from the skies over the mouth of the Savannah River; far enough away that she had to wonder if they were singing from the Georgia or South Carolina side, and she smiled knowing that was the only question she had to ponder today - and whatever the answer would be, she’d still be happy.

She heard the shower running in the bathroom, her husband Mark singing a Beach Boy’s tune way-off key as only he could — the seabird’s might’ve been sweeter on the ears, but they didn’t make her smile the way he did, and he’d given her multiple reasons to smile since well before the sun peeked it’s head above the coast this morning.

He’d truly shocked her the night before - not an easy feat after a decade of marriage - but nevertheless a delightful surprise. He told her that his early retirement package from the Marines was approved, and since she had been summarily drummed out of the space program, it was time for the both of them to begin the family they’d dreamed about years ago. The Air Force wanted to transfer her to the Academy in Colorado Springs - teaching ethics to aspiring officers, a position she’d secretly craved for years if the reaches of space seemed out of reach - and they’d bought a cabin in the black forest region three years ago, just a quick jaunt away from the Academy grounds. Life really couldn’t get any better, she thought. Almost as if I planned it this way.

The fact that she couldn’t bear children was a hurdle they’d overcome long ago, both fully engrossed in their military careers - hell, the fact that they had enough time for each other - juggling challenging billets between two different services had been a miracle - and now he’d arranged for the adoption they’d both dreamed about for years. She was going to be a mother - and that was all that mattered… wasn’t it?

A tiny hint of misgiving still reared it’s ugly head in the back of her mind. She’d always been fiercely independent - there was simply no way a woman in this day and age could clamber for her own role in this supposed man’s world without it - but she still felt a longing to continue forging her own path… and there was something else just beyond reach of her thoughts that seemed to slip away, something she was missing - but what was it she couldn’t put her fingers on?

The salt breeze and discord of her husband’s song banished the doubts in a smother of comfort - and she stuffed her fears away as golden sunshine wafted into the luxury suite. Why did it seem like such a long time since she’d seen the sun?

This afternoon she would meet the child that would be hers - Mark had warned her that the child would be different… challenged he’d said - but they’d overcome so much together, and there were so many children with special needs that needed good homes. Like Mark said - even if the child seemed beastly and foreign — that statement had alarmed her a bit — it would nevertheless be theirs to raise, and theirs to shape - no matter how different it seemed to the rest of the world.

No matter how different...no matter.

The message light on the phone beside the bed began flashing in an iridescent shade of purple - strange, I never heard it ring.

She picked up the phone but before she could put it to her ear the tiny speaker screamed like a thousand banshees in flight, and the receiver transformed into a writhing black snake in her hand - her grip just below the serpent’s neck, sickly-yellow venom dripping from bared fangs that easily sank deep into the soft flesh of her wrist. She tried to fling the snake off, but it held fast like a tightened vise, it’s muscled body wrapping around her forearm as she shook violently, sending the platter of strawberries skittering across the silken sheets.

Venom spread like fire through her upper body, and before darkness carried her away into oblivion she swore she heard Zack Dalton screaming out her name, and idly wondered why she would hear him of all people…

***************************

Strategos Andrex and Jacob stood with me at the base of the Buddhist Stupa below Thunder Mountain - West Sedona laid out in a sprawl before us, the once pristine horizon pock-marked with fingers of ugly black smoke chasing the purple, darkening sky. Nightfall was fast approaching.

Tracking the kilkenor wouldn’t be a problem - they left a trail even a deaf and blind city-slicker could follow. The greasy smell of burning corpses and rot carried on the breeze, but Andrex was more focused on my sword in his hands. He’d been pawing it since he saw the Kilkenor skull sizzle beneath it’s tip, caressing it like a newborn babe.

He hummed a barely audible single note so low in pitch that I felt it more than heard it, while gently running two fingers the size of bratwursts up and down the blade. The red aura emanating from his forehead shimmered in a vibrating pulse that seemed to match his tone, and faint tendrils of violet flowed from the sword through his fingers, up his arm and into the red pulse, as if he was communing with my blade on a spiritual level.

“Bemoroh AuOmonea de Kharashuotoa, Bikiapoa t-yo deam bhodea Bikhab, Zack Dalton,” he said, the lyrical Tunaki-Aramaic rolling off his tongue like silken sandpaper. “Master Craftsman of Magic, Stone is with this one,” my mind translated at once - still blown away that I possessed such an amazing skill.

“I would know more of this blade’s construction, Zack Dalton, this liland you speak of from your sky-skin is greater than you may know.” He handed me the blade back hilt-first, nodding in appreciation. “You toppers continue to impress - you’ve come a long way since my time. Were that the Tunaki and Cytheran’s had done likewise…” He shot Jacob a cool gaze, but Jacob was too busy intently scanning the sky to the south to notice - or he was a lot better under Tunaki reproach than I would be.

Hiro was approaching us with Mouse and his deadly trio of Tunaki after harvesting all of the bloodstones they could find for Angelicas, but so far the only thing the Sage Maiden could determine was that the bad guys were heading south toward some great pit - and there were more kilkenor scattered throughout the region. Thousands, she’d said - and likely more to come.

Smokey and a few other men I didn’t recognize trailed a little farther behind - all of them human with rifles slung at their shoulders, and all of them a bit wary of the Tunaki and Kenawak- in spite of having seen them in action against the formidable Kilkenor. Men could be some pretty close-minded dumb-asses more often than not. We’d best keep a close eye on the newcomers.

The horses and Kenawak grazed nearby on small patches of clumped desert grass, Smokey’s grandsons fawning over the Kenawak and Cytheran mounts, scrubbing their coats clean of kilkenor blood and gore, and singing what I guessed to be a Hopi song. The melody was haunting and dissonant to my western ears, but the animals seemed to find comfort in the ancient tune, and took to the boys like old friends.

“To quote the great Ricky Ricardo, I think you got some ’splaining to do, Zack - starting with just what the hell are we supposed to do now?” said Hiro, plopping down on the concrete base surrounding the stupa, absently scratching at his nether regions, his bravado seemingly restored back to banty rooster status.

“What makes you think I’ve got a clue, Hiro?”

He finished scratching himself and pointed in the general direction of Mouse and his entourage of furry killers.

“Your genius buddy over there with the sweet diamond blade told us all about your encounter with the glowing friend of Zeus’s - I reckon you been touched by the Olympians themselves - in any book I’d say that puts your happy ass in charge.” He smiled playfully and went back to scratching at whatever ailed his crotch - until Angelicas approached from the eastern path with two Tunaki warriors. Some things you just don’t do in front of a lady - no matter the species.

Smokey drew close with the other men, looking haggard and bone-weary, no doubt feeling the loss of his progeny, but there was a flint in his eyes of hunger for the ones who caused the pain. Age doesn’t seem to dampen a thirst for retribution.

“Major Dalton, I’d like to introduce you to the men responsible for helping you kick a lot of Kilkenor ass today” said Smokey, motioning to the armed men surrounding him, “This is Master Gunnery-Sergeant Eddie Killmore, his son Corporal Troy Killmore and a few of the more scruffy members of the ragtag Sedona Volunteer Militia.”

The Master Guns was a walking recruiting poster for the old-school Marine Corps. And how could you not love a jarhead with that last name? Killmore - I bet their drill instructors loved the hell out of that. He stood at least 6’ 5 easily hefting 280 pounds with smooth features chiseled out of ebony granite. His skin was the color of fine espresso, his son a carbon copy of the father, though touched with a faint dose of cream, and both with the hard eyes of hungry warriors who just endured an all you can eat buffet of whoop-ass, yet were cautiously ready for seconds.

The Master Guns sized me up as only a Senior Non-Commissioned Officer could, no doubt wondering why a Marine Major was wearing a kilt and a sword while sporting purple peepers - not exactly the uniform of the day as proscribed by the Commandant - no matter the circumstance.

“Nice to see a fellow Belleau Woodsman in the midst of all this chaos, Master Guns - and damn fine shooting,” I said, “You both still active duty by chance - whatever that means these days...”

“Yes, sir - you might say that, although neither one of us have seen a paycheck in awhile. I was on terminal leave awaiting retirement, camping way off the grid north of here with my son when all the stuff associated with Halcyon went down. We holed up with Smokey when the nukes started flying, and haven’t been able to establish contact with anybody wearing a uniform since. I guess we’re a couple squared away jarhead’s that happen to be UA due to circumstances beyond anybody’s control.”

I nodded to the Master Guns in understanding and pointed to the obviously non-military men he had with him. They looked like they knew their way around the woods - but didn’t have the disciplined air of those who’d stood on the yellow footprints of the recruit training depot’s at Parris Island and San Diego.

“More circumstance, sir - Sedona looked like Dodge City on free whiskey day for awhile after the radiation dissipated. Local law enforcement was nowhere to be seen, no Reserve or National Guard troops - my son and I sort of put together this group to try and keep the peace with all the refugees flocking to the red rocks. These men were mostly jeep-tour drivers, and represent half of our local defense group. We were just checking in on Smokey and Hiro when those fucked up scorpion things showed up - I met Major Hodgson and she briefed me on your story…” He balked a bit and I chuckled slightly, “...she didn’t mention the big fuzzy guys or the Clydesdale’s on steroids though, sir, although I was damn glad to see you all show up, for what it’s worth…”

He hesitated and looked over at Strategos Andrex like a surprised thief coming face-to-face with a pissed off pit bull in a darkened back yard.

“...I’m not sure how appropriate this will be, sir - but these men have families in Sedona they’d like to check on as soon as possible - any way some of these Tunaki could be persuaded to join us for a look-see?” I looked to Jacob and he translated the request to Andrex who nodded quickly, then barked an order for the Tunaki to mount up.

“Time to dance, Master Guns - let’s go check on your people... it’ll give me some time to figure out just what the hell we need to do next.”

**********************************************

Even the grim touch of Abaddon did little to prepare me for what I discovered when we entered Sedona. Bodies - or what was left of them, lay in viscous piles on every sidewalk and storefront. The few trees along the main thoroughfare held dismembered human remains within their branches, as if flung there by some powerful, shredding centrifuge.

Killmore’s militiamen looked ashen and hurried off in groups of two and three with Tunaki warriors shadowing them to different parts of the town - threading their way through patchwork tents that seemed to occupy every bit of free space across the landscape. No amount of optimism would let me think they’d be returning wearing smiles. Even the very air smelled devoid of life and hope.

The Kilkenor had obviously waded through here with a much larger force than we’d faced on the mountain, no way the locals could’ve stood up to the assault, even if Killmore and crew had been present.

Abaddon wanted me to see this. The fucker spared me just so I could get a glimpse of his power -

The big Marine was mounted on a Tennessee Walker, and led Andrex, Jacob, Hiro and myself to a strip mall just beyond the river - I remembered the place from my visit here years ago with my wife. We’d enjoyed a few pints and laughter with some hippy locals at a little Irish pub called Mooney’s and watched amazing sunset’s painting the red rocks to the west.

That seemed so freaking long ago and a world away.

I held the memory close inside like a cherished love letter, idly hoping the place was still open for business. A pint or nine of Mooney’s Irish Red seemed to be just what I needed.

Master Guns dismounted in front of the bar, the former glass front doors replaced with ¼ inch plates of welded steel - decoratively embellished with a four leaf clover etched in acid. Guess the place was still open - just not as accessible as it used to be.

Master Guns Killmore unslung his deer rifle and rapped out shave-and-a-haircut with the butt end of the rifle across the thick plate, a gap in the steel just above eye level quickly sliding open to reveal a pair of obviously terrified hazel eyes.

“It’s me and some friends, Nick - open up, okay? And don’t freak out about the big guy - I swear he’s on our side.”

The sound of sliding steel and chains carried through the massive door, then opened on well-oiled hinges to reveal the owner I’d met years before - although he’d been smiling warmly back then instead of looking horrified beyond belief.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie - what the hell is going on? What the fuck were those things? Did you see what they did to the women? It’s friggin’ apoc — “ Nick froze in mid-sentence as he took in the form of Andrex, his face paling enough that I thought he might piss himself or pass out - maybe both.

“Andrex has that effect on a lot of people, Nick - he’s a Tunaki - I’ll explain everything to you over a pint if you’ve got any… Zack Dalton - we met the first month you opened the place,” Nick absently took my hand but never took his eyes off Andrex, his mouth wide open.

“Breathe dude, breathe,” Eddie said, “Let us in and tell us what went down. The big guy is definitely on our side, okay?”

Eddie’s calming bass seemed to bring the bar owner back to earth, and he motioned us all in - quickly shutting the door behind us - but giving Andrex a wide berth and still looking pale as skimmed milk.

The place hadn’t changed much since I’d last been there, although the shelves weren’t quite as well-stocked as they’d once been, and two massive copper stills stood in the small alcove where the dart players and regulars hung out. A wall of signed dollar bills framed the bar, the one Laura and I signed still tucked up proud in the top-left corner. Seeing her flowing script and the oversized smiley face and rocket she’d crafted made me smile.

We bellied up to the bar - Hiro rubbing his hands and grinning like we were on a weekend poker run instead of having just rode through the streets of hell. Dude must really need a beer. Andrex remained standing, the barstools no match for his massive frame, but he leaned down on the bar with his palms flat - I swear I heard the wood creak. He took in the surroundings with a keen intent, sniffing the air appreciably.

“Is this the headquarters of Killmore’s local army, Zack Dalton?” said Andrex, his deep Tunaki voice booming in the small tavern - and this time I think Nick really did piss himself.

I noticed the aura of the men with me when Andrex spoke, and saw how their essence seemed to repel his red flow - except for Hiro. A few wisps of red seemed to slip into Hiro’s ‘stream’ of shifting hues of white light - and I understood why immediately.

I ignored Andrex for the moment and asked Hiro what he thought the Tunaki had said. Hiro looked a bit puzzled, but replied “Not much, Zack - something about Killmore’s head - or where he keeps it,” he shot Jacob a hard look and pointed an accusing finger - “Like I said, it’s been a helluva long time since I was in seminary in his class - I’ve slept since then, young man.”

“I want to try something, Hiro - and it might be a little weird,” I said. “Andrex, do me a favor and start talking - it doesn’t matter what you say as long as it makes sense - I want to see if I can get others to understand Tunaki the same way Amalek did for me and Director Salek did for Mouse.” He nodded and began droning on about the surroundings, picking things at random and describing them in detail.

The red hues still seemed to bounce back from the humans - with that occasional snippet of understanding slipping through Hiro’s aura. I reached out to touch Hiro and he backed up a bit giving me a wary glare. “Relax, Hiro - I think I know what I’m doing.”

I could sense the essence of Hiro, and when I touched him it came at me in a clarity of brilliance and understanding. Andrex continued to speak, and I saw and felt the waves that would make Hiro capable of ‘receiving’ what Andrex was saying.

If I touch him right - there - and shift this - here…

Hiro’s flows began to run brighter with the red Tunaki hues as I coaxed his essence into understanding, and his eyes opened wide and he stared at Andrex, dumbfounded. “Holy Shit - I just understood everything he said! Where were you in 1958, Zack - I could’ve got out of taking his whole damn class!”

I laughed along with him - and sensed an oddly genuine hostility and distaste from Hiro towards Jacob - it can wait - don’t intrude - the others looked puzzled, and I filed the thought away for later, while Andrex described the miniature garnish skewers in finite detail - “… the miniature swords are in bright colors of red, green and yellow - perhaps for cleaning of tiny Topper teeth or for marking out battle plans upon a map…”

I motioned for Nick to come closer, smiled and laid my hand on his forearm, and grasped Andrex’s arm, “Listen to him, Nick,” I said and had their flows in sync in under three heartbeats, then did the same for Eddie in short order.

My joy in discovering just a fraction of what I could now do was short-lived, snuffing out as soon as Nick began describing what he’d seen, and others began returning from their searches bearing equally grim accounts.