CHAPTER 45 - SABRA

The smell of coffee drew Sabra—shambling, not-quite awake, haphazardly dressed—to the kitchen. She heard the voices of the others before she saw them. Someone had cleaned up the blood, the vomit. The events of the previous night almost felt like they hadn’t happened. But only almost.

“Morning, Sab,” Fisher said. He looked like he had more grey hairs than he had a few hours before. He passed her a cup of coffee. Sabra took a long sip of it before she remembered she hated the stuff. She grimaced, swallowed it anyway.

“Morning,” she said. Leopard sat at the kitchen table with a pair of maps in front of him. Tiger was still out of it atop the counter, but someone had given her a pillow and a blanket. Revenant stood by the door, hands clasped behind her back.

“How’s everyone doing?” Sabra asked.

“Fine,” Fisher replied. “Jack was just telling us he’s got a lead on Promethea’s location. I think we should move on that immediately.”

“Okay, where’s she at?”

Leopard tapped a pen against his first map, that of Australia. “We should’ve thought of this sooner—sorry, I should’ve thought of this sooner. I plotted out the diameter of the field. The center of it is about two hours to our north-east. The map says it’s a national park.”

“You think she’s there?”

“Call it a hunch,” he said. “If there’s a source of interference, it’s there. If I was looking to lead a cult, that’s where I’d hide.”

Fisher said, “As he said, it’s only two hours away. Drive out there, see if she’s there, and call it in. A hunch isn’t much, but it’s better than anything else we’ve got.”

Revenant spoke, “The center of the null zone is classified as a class-one restricted site.”

“Is that a problem?” Sabra asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t have any other information. Either way, extreme caution is advised.”

“Sounds like another point in our favor,” Leopard said.

“Okay,” Sabra said. “Luckily, I like long walks through dark alleys. Pavel, what do you know about Promethea?”

“Very little,” Fisher said, setting his mug down. “Nothing I haven’t already said. She has a cult, she stays out of our little mortal affairs, and is powerful enough that no one brings those affairs to her. So, if she’s there, I suggest you walk in there, you get our answer, and you walk out.”

“Yeah, but what does she do?”

“Don’t know. But she’d have her reputation as an oracle-messiah for a reason. The more powerful a cape is, the harder their abilities are to quantify. Take Taurine for example.”

“Strong, tough, ramps up as the fight goes on.”

“Right. Compare her to someone like The Engineer. You don’t get any helpful phrases like super strong shapeshifter as shorthand. You get a long list of things he’s done, and the more you try to pin that list down to something simple, the less sense any of it makes. So, be very careful.”

“You said she wasn’t one of the Transcended.”

“She’s not,” Fisher replied, “but she’s closer to that than she is a normal cape. Back when she first showed up in the fifties, people thought she was number eight. Either way, if she’s there, then that park is her territory and you’re her guest, so, don’t put your feet up on the metaphorical furniture. She might not disassemble you with a point of her finger, but let’s not find out what she’d do instead.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Sabra replied. “When do we head out?”

“That’s another thing. We can’t all go. Sam’s still out of it, and one of us should stay behind to monitor her condition.”

“I’m not much of a nurse,” Leopard said. “And, besides, I need to be the one to meet with Promethea.”

“And I’m not missing the chance to see some sights,” Sabra said. “You coming, Revenant?”

“If only to indulge my curiosity,” she said.

Fisher sipped from his mug. “Had a feeling it’d fall this way. Fine, I’ll hold down the fort. The three of you should go suit up, then. Figure of speech, by the way—you’re going in civvies.”

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Sabra Kasembe was not going to kill again.

The two-hour drive was little more than an opportunity for her mind to return to the memories of the previous night. It was like she could still feel the motions of her limbs. Every strike, every combo, every maneuver.

Every kill.

Eight people. It seemed an absurd number. Sure, she had only directly killed one of them, but it was her actions that led to the rest of them dying. And it had been so easy. Besides, she’d given Arachnicide and his goons every chance to lay down their weapons and walk away, hadn’t she? But they hadn’t, they’d forced the issue, and they’d come up short. That wasn't on her. There was too much riding on it for her to lose.

But even that thought didn’t do anything to settle her. Everything sat uneasily in her gut, a roiling mass of shame, disgust and triumph.

She had killed. In defiance of every lesson she had been taught, every law she had followed, and every humanist precept she believed in. She had taken eight lives from people who were as human as she was, so she could save two.

Just because I can justify it doesn’t make it right.

But as the dusty Australian landscape blurred past her, Sabra wasn’t sure if she was truly upset because she had killed or, perhaps, that it was because, when she truly examined her feelings, she found she didn’t care at all.

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Whatever old signage the national park had, it’d been replaced by a bright blue IESA sign. CLASS-ONE RESTRICTED AREA, it read. PROBABLE NBCP RISK. SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED BEYOND THIS POINT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED UNDER THE GLOBAL SECURITY ACT 2051.

There was something grotesque about the sign. As far as Sabra could see, the dry landscape had given way to a thick forest. Great trees with ghost-gray bark, taller than any she had ever seen with her own eyes, stretched up toward the sky. Overgrown walking paths snaked around and between them. She glanced at the sign again.

“What’s NBCP mean?”

Leopard cut the engine. “Nuclear, biological, chemical, psychic,” he said.

“And I’m here in my jeans?”

“It’s standard IESA boilerplate. A modern-day ‘here be dragons.’ And, look, if there is something that bad here, then our gear wouldn’t help us, anyway.”

“All readings are nominal,” Revenant said.

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Leopard tapped a finger against his ear. “You getting us loud and clear, Impel?”

Fisher’s voice came through the bud in Sabra’s ear. “Getting some interference.” Static hissed and popped over his words.

“I’m getting it, too,” Sabra said.

“Then we’re on the right track, at least,” Leopard said. “I reckon we’ll lose contact the closer we get to the center.”

“You reckon, or you know?”

“Reckon,” Leopard replied. “Last time I saw her, we weren’t concerned with anyone listening in. We’ll stay off the comms until we’re done.”

“Got it,” Fisher said. “Good hunting.”

Sabra popped open the door and stepped out into the warm morning air. She raised her arms above her head and stretched, inhaling. The air smelt of dust and dirt and pungent foreign flora. It was enough to make her miss Asclepion’s homely mix of sea spray and urban decay.

“Smells like cough medicine,” Sabra said.

“That’d be the eucalyptus,” Revenant said. “It’s an oil in the leaves.”

“Koalas love it,” Leopard said, moving for the back of the SUV.

“Those are the little bears, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think we’ll see one?”

“Don’t care,” he said. “We’re not here to sightsee.”

Sabra turned to find Leopard and saw him at the rear of the SUV, a rifle in his hands—as if considering it, or considering bringing it along. “Hey,” she said, marching over. “Pavel said no weapons.”

Leopard nodded, set it down, and withdrew a handgun instead. He popped the magazine out, examining it. “He says a lot of things.”

“We’re not here for a fight,” Sabra said, feeling her voice edge.

“You’re right,” Leopard said and slammed the magazine home. “But I’d rather have a weapon and not need it than need it and not have it.”

“That’s a horrible way to look at the world.”

“Sure, but it beats dying.”

Revenant marched over, stood at her shoulder. “If you think a handgun will protect you against Promethea, Jack, then you are mistaken.”

“Then there’s no harm in me bringing it, is there?” He shoved the gun down the back of his jeans and covered it with his heavy jacket. “Let’s go.”

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Leopard led the way through the bushland, moving with a quick deftness that even Sabra had to double-time to keep pace with. Revenant was a ghost at her back, as quiet as Leopard was. No one talked, and Sabra listened to the birds.

Asclepion hadn’t had many birds. A selection of gulls, seabirds, pigeons, and little sparrows that’d found a niche on the island. Here, the musical calls were so different and foreign and full of life. The whole park was. If only there was an hour to walk it, breathe it all in...

“We’re getting close,” Leopard said. “I think, just over this ridge.”

He paused at the top of it.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

Once, Sabra had seen an old photo of some ancient meteor impact—thousands of trees flattened to the ground, like God had pitched a hammer at the Earth. This was worse. Before her, there was no sign of verdant life, and there were no birds. The ground itself was a charred grey and nothing existed upon it beyond rocks. Something crept across her scalp uneasily. She couldn’t even feel the breeze.

“What happened here?” Sabra asked. Was it a trick of the light, or did it feel like there was less sunlight here, too? She found herself thinking of what Fisher had said about Shanghai, about how the city was just gone.

“I don’t know,” Leopard said. “Revenant?”

“I’m getting very heavy interference,” she said, golden eyes scoping out the scene before them. “But I’m not detecting anything hazardous to organic life. You should be fine.”

“Should be.”

“I am not detecting any organic life. Not even microbes. The landscape is completely sterile.”

“So, it’s safe.”

“I can’t say for certain.”

Leopard took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. Then he stepped down off the ridge and into the wasteland. He waited there for a few moments, then gestured for them to follow him. Sabra followed. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Revenant sounded like she was a few paces closer.

The desolation continued all around her. The ridge led down into a valley, or crater. The rocky ground crunched under Sabra’s sneakers, and she had the thought that her footwear wasn’t appropriate. The rocks gathered in piles and mounds, growing taller with every step, until they gave way to singular monoliths. It was like someone had carved features into them, like outstretched arms, only to abandon the work. But the closer they got to the center, the larger the stones became, and the more humanoid.

“Jesus,” Leopard muttered. “Look at the sky.”

Sabra did. Up above, the clouds were whirling slowly, slate grey, like a storm threatening to erupt at any moment. Something about the sight made her head hurt. Sabra, remembering the sign, looked away.

“Anomalous atmospheric conditions,” Revenant said. “No immediate cause detected.”

“What happened here?” Sabra asked.

“Unsure. I’m still gathering data.”

Soon, it was like walking through a field of statues, and their features became more distinct. Each one of them with a head turned towards the heavens, where Sabra couldn’t tell the distinction between helmet, visor and face. All of them with their arms raised like they were clutching something, their mouths open in a silent scream. Each one of them an equal distance from the other, all of them facing towards the center. All of them large enough now that the three of them were standing in their shadows.

“These figures match the physical description of The Archon,” Revenant said. “I would say this was a battleground between The Archon and one of the other members of the Seven. I would not recommend touching anything.”

Sabra shivered. “It’s cold.”

“It appears the effects of the null field are much stronger here, and more exotic. Are you okay?”

“Hey,” Leopard called, before Sabra could reply. “Look at this.”

Sabra jogged to meet him. Leopard pointed to an imprint in the ground. A humanoid shape, like the imprint of a fallen titan, lay in the rock. Something hummed against Sabra’s teeth, and she thought of the statues, their clutching hands. An impression of a confrontation between gods, one of them left impaled, pinned to the ground, the fallen one drawing on all of their power, so much so that the effect was burnt forever into the fabric of the world—

“I can almost see it,” Leopard whispered.

“Don’t,” Revenant said sharply. “Do not.”

Sabra blinked, shaking her head. The sudden vehemence in Revenant's voice was more than enough to snap her out of it. The impression vanished like a monster into shadows. But whatever titan had fallen there was now gone, and whatever had impaled them was missing, too. They had to have been massive.

Leopard slapped himself, then drew his handgun, removed the magazine, and passed it to Revenant. “I’ve heard stories,” he said to himself or her or Sabra.

“Of what?” Sabra asked.

“Contamination.”

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They left the battleground behind, made for the far side of the desolate expanse. Just past the edge of it, where the birds could be heard again, there was a vast edifice of near-black stone. Countless hexagonal columns, staggered in various heights, all of them sleek and shiny. Jack stepped up to the closest of the columns, brushed his fingers against it.

“This isn’t a natural formation,” he said.

“What is it?” Sabra asked. “Obsidian?”

“No,” Revenant said. “Marble.”

“Like a temple,” Leopard murmured. “I think this is our spot.”

Sabra looked to the left, then to the right. The columns extended in both directions, like the formation was vaguely circular. There, to her right, the sunlight caught on the glossy black angles and there was a notch cut into the columns, a straight path into the heart of the rock.

“And there’s our entrance.”

Leopard frowned. “We’ll have to walk single file. And if we run into hostiles in there, we’re dead. No space to maneuver.”

“Since you’ve got the gun, tough guy, how about you go first?” Sabra said.

“It’s not loaded.”

“I’ll go first,” Revenant said, and entered the cave. Sabra followed, with Leopard just behind.

Inside, the hexagonal pillars became something like stairs. The dark columns loomed over them, and Sabra was glad to realize with absolute certainty that she wasn’t claustrophobic. Somehow, there was light—little motes of iridescent light, wafting here and there like fireflies.

Sabra didn’t dare reach out to touch them.

She paused, turned back to take one last look at the sunlight, but the outside world was so far away. Twenty meters had become twenty kilometers. Leopard paused, seeing her stop, and turned back to look, too.

“Try not to think about it,” he said.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “But I think she knows we’re here.”