Anthony DeCosmo - Fusion

Jon answered Benny, “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Then it should be easy to dig in. But sir, a Leviathan can level a city like this in five minutes.”

Jon pointed out, “The Nazis leveled Stalingrad with Stukas before they moved in. Soldier, bombed-out buildings make great foxholes. Now look, I’ve got to head to the estate for a big meeting. General Fink is organizing the withdrawal to these lines. His HQ is at McConnell Air Force base in Wichita but he’ll be pulling back before the end of the week.”

“How long ‘til we get hit here?”

A distant sound of glass breaking-just a soft tink — floated through the air from the riverboat. The music still played a soft rock song from the 70s. Sad Eyes or something like that.

Benny tried glancing over Jon’s shoulder but Brewer kept the younger man focused on the conversation. “Am I some kind of fortune teller? Why don’t you go ask Voggoth when he plans to knock on our door?”

“Of course, sir. I mean, um, of course not. I mean, you’re not a fortune teller. Sorry.”

Jon softened. He had not meant to be so hard but he did not want Benny worrying about the morbid party on that riverboat.

He remembered playing touch football with Benny back in Pennsylvania during that first post-Armageddon Thanksgiving. Of the group that played that day, Tolbert had died during the Battle of Five Armies less than a year later, Dustin McBride had disappeared-presumed dead-while leading his cavalry unit in pursuit of errant Red Hands, Dante Jones had killed himself in the face of Trevor’s return last summer, and now it appeared Anita Nehru had gone insane.

Benny, for his part, scored the winning touchdown that Thanksgiving by faking out Ross, a former NFL linebacker.

Just a kid.

“Sir?”

“Huh? Oh. It seems they’ve slowed down. They could probably get here in two weeks or so if they wanted, but it seems as if they might just take a little longer.”

Duda asked the question on many of the top brass’ minds, “Why would they slow down? We’re kind of in a bad spot.”

Jon ignored the question. “While I’m back in Pennsylvania you’ve got to oversee the set up here. Dig in, watch the skies, and get ready for what’s to come. I’m guessing that Shep will get back here first and take over operational command of this sector through First Corp.”

“Okay,” but Benny’s attention slipped again over Jon’s shoulder, toward the old style riverboat at rest in port. “Um-sir?”

Benny moved around Jon with his eyes focused on the riverboat. No more voices or laughter, just recorded music.

Jon closed his eyes and remembered a sign he had read on a front porch in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania long ago:

“Here hangs the South Side Suicide Club,

We couldn’t take it no more.

So we dressed in our best, stood straight and abreast,

And kicked away stools numberin’ four.”

“Sir, I think they’re all-they’re all…”

Jon turned around and shared the view with Benny Duda.

The party goers lay strewn along the decks of the riverboat, dressed in their best with a few still holding the spiked champagne glasses that had served as the final act of the celebration. A large banner strung across the bow said to the world, “Goodbye!” with a yellow smiley face punctuating the message.

Lori Brewer held her nine-year-old daughter’s hand as the pair left the cafeteria in the church basement and walked the perimeter road toward the estate. A few scattered gray clouds moved overhead threatening to sprinkle but nothing yet materialized.

As she neared the main gate she saw several usual sights: K9s walking the grounds, heavily armed human sentries, and support personnel in uniforms ranging from suits to tactical BDUs walking to and fro.

She saw something very unusual, too.

Just north of the main entrance to the estate ran a driveway that traveled a short distance to both the A-frame house where the Nehrus lived and the garage on their property which included an apartment overhead.

At the end of that driveway stood a blonde woman sporting a ponytail drooping to her shoulder blades and wearing a black beret over a green BDU/black tank top ensemble, not to mention a sword strapped to her leg.

Nina Forest? Here?

Lori bypassed the estate.

“Mom? Where we going?”

Lori ignored her daughter’s protest and approached the visitor from behind.

“Nin-I mean, Captain Forest?”

Nina turned around and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, taking Lori by surprise.

“Mrs. Brewer? Hey, hello.”

The events of the previous summer had drawn the two together for a brief time as Lori’s husband, Jon, came to Nina’s rescue. Yet it was the events of a decade ago that Lori missed most of all. She and Nina were friends in the early days. Then The Order’s implant stole those memories away.

“I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“You were?”

“Yes.” Nina gave her attention to the dark haired nine year old for a moment. “Hello, there, how old are you?”

“I’m nine years old!”

Lori remembered her manners and made introductions.

“This is my daughter Catherine. Cathy, this is Captain Forest.”

The captain bent over and told the girl, “Nina.”

“Nina?” Lori’s daughter jumped. “Hey! I’m Nina, too”

Lori shuffled uncomfortably.

“My middle name is Nina! Catherine Nina Brewer!”

Nina Forest considered that revelation with an air of suspicion and turned to Lori saying, “What a coincidence.”

“Um, Cathy, why don’t you head on up to the mansion. Go find a good book to read in the den or something. I’ll catch up.”

But Catherine’s attention focused on the sword strapped to Nina’s leg. Her eyes traced the weapon up and down.

“Cathy? Are you listening to me?”

“Oh, right. Okay, Mom.” zzz

The nine year old walked away turning around twice to study the blond woman with the pony tail and black beret before finally moving through the open main gates. Nina and Lori watched her go.

As Catherine left ear shot, Lori asked, “What brings you to the estate?”

“General Shepherd is on his way to the front so I’m hitching a ride with him. After the meeting tomorrow we’re both going to head west.”

Lori sensed that something weighed on Nina’s mind and she desperately wished she could share everything she knew. A promise made years ago kept her silent.

Nina said, “Listen, I never got a chance to tell you ‘thank you’. Sometimes I’m not so good with that.”

Lori felt a strong sense of deja vu and stumbled, “Um-for what?”

“For a bunch of things. For helping me adopt my daughter way back when. You pulled the strings on that. You and Jim Brock, that is. And also for last year. Things move so fast and all that, well, look I’m just saying that you kind of came to the rescue.”

A car drove by. The two women turned and walked together toward the estate.

Lori said, “You were the one who did the rescuing. If it weren’t for you and Gordon, hell, we never would have found out.”

Nina asked, “How is he?”

Lori shook her head as she answered, “He still can’t use his legs. They don’t think he ever will. A few months ago he returned to work but he sort of stays in one of the houses here on the lake and refuses to go out. I don’t know. A guy like that-”

“You’re thinking maybe he would have been happier if that bullet had killed him.”

“Maybe,” Lori said.

“Tell me something,” Nina switched subjects as they passed two sentries and entered the grounds of the estate. “You and I were friends once, weren’t we?”

That stopped Lori in her tracks.

Nina went on, “It’s okay. I don’t remember everything from that year. Not at all. But there are pieces coming back to me. And I’ve seen some old photographs and stuff.”