Anthony DeCosmo - Fusion

“Jorgie! That’s it! You did it! You pulled them forward through time to when they would be safe. But think about places closer to home. Think about your mother.”

Flashes of cities, mountain towns, seaside villas, campgrounds-they came and went in quick succession.

Wrigley field-thousands of fans and two baseball teams ceased to exist in the summer of the invasion-and reappeared in the streets of the Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago; a neighborhood teeming with alien wildlife.

Trevor gasped, “No…” but he already knew The Empire had found those unlucky time travelers torn to shreds.

Any confidence JB felt quickly dissipated with this failure.

“I have to stop-I’m killing them!”

“Listen to me, Jorgie. You can’t stop. You have already done this. You are a link on the chain. Hell, maybe it’s a whole new chain that those son of a bitches didn’t count on, but you’ve got to see it through. Keep trying. You’re in the right time. Don’t give up, son. Please. For your mother’s sake.”

The mention of his mother’s name re-energized the boy. His eyes opened and while Trevor could not see what his son saw, he c ould see a new sense of determination in his expression.

More images-random places-random buildings-people pulled from their lives days or hours before the onslaught of invaders. With each group, Jorgie’s skill at moving them through time improved. Only a handful arrived too soon. Many more began to appear in places that Trevor immediately recognized from those early years of expansion; places where they had found ark-riders.

As he watched his son work, Trevor had a revelation.

Whenever they had found batches of ark riders they had always found a scientist of some importance, or an engineer, or a brilliant mathematician or a fanatically brave soldier. At the time, Trevor had sensed a purpose behind the ark; as if some force had targeted the best and brightest of humanity and ensured their survival beyond the first days of Armageddon.

Not so. The groups Jorgie pulled from history were random groups. Yet someone of importance, someone of great value, someone who aided the cause did arrive in each batch because even the most random samples of humanity a lways produced such persons. The plan existed not in the power behind the ark, but in the nature of mankind.

Jorgie’s face grew drawn and tired. Working from the center of the energy spike-the vortex-put a great strain on his body and no matter how great his powers, he remained a human being.

“Father-something is-something is wrong,” Jorgie’s eyes searched the streams of energy; again seeing things not visible to Trevor. “I feel-I feel like I’m being watched. Like another door has opened.”

Trevor could not decipher what his son meant. He only knew what needed to be accomplished. And from what he could see in the spinning, flashing storm of energy, Jorgie’s skill at fishing the currents of time improved.

Trevor saw West Point along the Hudson. He watched as a cache of summer students and teachers-all across campus-vanished into thin air. Trevor knew General William Hoth-hero of the Wetmore battle-would be among that number. Trevor searched his memory. They had found the ark-riders at West Point less than a year after the Battle of Five Armies but before major expansion. Jon had suggested an expedition to the academy with the hope of finding materials for ‘teaching’ as part of his strategy to improve humanity’s burgeoning citizen-army. They had found much more than that: they had found hundreds of cadets and dozens of instructors; including Hoth.

“Jorgie-put them back in two years. No more.”

“I’ll try, Father,” and the boy grunted and the emerald sarcophagi re-appeared on the academy grounds. Trevor could not tell if the time was exactly right, but from what he saw no predators threatened the ark-riders.

“Father!”

“JB? What?”

Again, the child’s eyes searched the bands of energy, seeing something.

“They’re coming, Father! They’re coming!”

“Hurry, Jorgie! Hurry!”

In rapid succession Jorgie guided the Nyx’s energy across the world during the June days just prior to the full force of the invasion. Trevor fed him dates and places, but despite becoming better skilled at manipulating the power, Jorgie still could not be as precise as Trevor wished. Nonetheless, he grabbed thousands of people form the past and, with Trevor’s guidance, deposited them at times when they would awake in lands re-claimed by the expanding Empire.

Again Jorgie warned, “Something is happening-there’s another door open-to someplace different. Father-I’m getting so very tired.”

“Your mother, Jorgie. Find your mother,” Trevor had not pushed to pull Ashley from the past because he wanted his son’s skill to improve as much as possible. Of all the ark-riders, losing Ashley-and, ironically, baby Jorgie in her belly-would prove the most catastrophic. He wondered if his son-standing in the energy field-would simply vanish should Ashley find her green coffin deposited before the battle for Wilkes-Barre; before the Battle of Five Armies; before Northeastern Pennsylvania had been retaken by humanity.

His concern proved unwarranted. Ashley’s entire family and all of her neighbors disappeared from their homes, leaving behind singed clothing and empty rooms.

In the moment before the image changed, Trevor saw a silver Chevrolet Malibu with a badly-damaged passenger side screech to a stop in the half-circle driveway of the Trump’s modular home. He saw a person to whom he shared some similarity; he saw a young man named Richard Stone exit the car and bound up the stairs in search of his fiance. All this before the Old Man, before New Winnabow, before the journey to a parallel universe.

Trevor gazed at the fading image. The stranger pictured there-could that really be his past self? How he wished for a world where Richard had never become Trevor.

Then the image changed. Ashley and the others from her street rode the ark landing safely in secure territory not far from her home a little more than a year since her disappearance. For her the time past in the quickest of flashes. During that flash, his entire life-his entire person-changed.

Richard became Trevor.

“Father-I am so tired-and they are coming…”

The energy field waned. The image showed the grounds outside the temple. Voggoth’s monsters prepared for one last strike at the Europeans; one last surge to send them running.

“One more, JB. One more time and then you’re done.”

“I can’t…”

“You must! Armand and the others are dying. Send them help, Jorgie.”

The mention of Armand’s name grabbed JB’s attention. No doubt the thought of the gallant Frenchman-someone Jorgie had grown to admire-gave him one last burst of energy.

Trevor saw the scene change to a place he could not identify; an industrial town situated beneath a row of beautiful, towering mountains covered with green and surrounded by serene rolling hills. A formation of soldiers marched along a road outside of town, enjoying the sun of a gorgeous Russian summer day as well as a postcard view.

Trevor realized-Satka, Russia. This place. This very place before the infection of Voggoth came and tore it asunder.

Alexander stood at the open passenger’s door of a Sherpa military vehicle. He used a small flashlight to consult the map unfolded on the seat therein. A Royal Marine watched over the leader with his eyes aimed east at the battlefield raging just below the nearby ridge.

Explosions of red and orange-barrel flashes-streams of fire-and vehicle headlights created a shifting tapestry of light within the mass of combatants. The occasional lightning flash from the cloud-covered heavens revealed a morass of human fighters in close-quarters battle with the alien horde. A smoky haze floated above the slaughter.