SIXTY-TWO

AS THE GROUP of hybrids closed in around King, Queen, Sara, and the two remaining Death Volunteers, they formed a tight, twenty-foot circle, bringing the group of combatants, who just seconds ago were trying to kill each other, into close proximity. The closeness and orange glow from the giant torches lit around the city revealed Major General Trung as one of the two remaining soldiers.

Queen saw him and frowned. She still had a gun and knife strapped to her waist. It would have been easy for her to kill him using either weapon, but the sudden action might be misconstrued as an attack on the hybrids. And that would do them all in. She decided to rely on the weapons she found most reliable and least likely to trigger an assault from the enemies surrounding them. She walked around King and Sara, facing Trung.

He saw her instantly. His eyes went wide with the memory of the terrible things he had done to her, to the woman whose ferocity and fortitude dwarfed any man he’d ever trained or served with, himself included. The bright red brand on her forehead burned fear into him. His companion saw Queen, too, and stepped aside.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Trung said, his hand resting on his holstered gun. “You might set them—”

Queen reached out with both hands before Trung could think to draw his pistol. She took hold of him by the front of his shirt and yanked him to her. She simultaneously thrust the glowing red Death Volunteer brand on her forehead toward him. Her skull collided with his face, resulting in a loud crunch as his nose and cheekbones gave in to the powerful head butt. He fell limp, dead from the single blow. A bloodred, smudged version of the VPLA star-and-skull symbol was stamped onto his forehead.

She dropped Trung in a heap and regarded the hybrids closest to her. They stepped back for a moment before turning their attention to the last VPLA soldier. With a speed equaling Queen’s they reached out and snagged the soldier. He cried out, but a quick twist of his neck from one of the hybrids silenced him. The act was quick and easy, like unscrewing the cap from a Pepsi bottle. King drew his sidearm. Sara and Queen followed his lead, drawing their weapons.

A staring match ensued with neither side wanting to make the first move. There was no doubt that when the battle began, both sides would have casualties.

But the hybrids had numbers, strength, and speed on their side.

Weston stepped back, allowing Lucy to step in front of him. “I’m sorry, but the world will have to get along without you,” he said, moving farther back away from the impending fight.

The circle of hybrids closed in tight around them.

The attack would come soon. King knew that if the hybrids made the first move he and Queen might get off a few shots, but the fight would be over quickly. Their only chance was to act first.

“Shock and awe,” King said.

“What?” Weston asked.

Queen nodded.

“What does that—”

King and Queen took aim and pulled triggers. In a few seconds both had emptied their clips. Ten of the hybrids slumped over dead.

Lucy turned toward Weston. “Father . . .” She placed her hand inside the gaping wound in her chest.

The sudden act of violence shocked the remaining hybrids into stunned silence. They looked around at their fallen brothers and sisters, amazed at how quickly so many of them had fallen.

Weston’s jaw shook and his eyes filled with tears. Lucy slid from Weston’s arms and fell to the stone floor. Blood seeped from two gunshot wounds in her chest. “Lucy. My princess. No . . .” He became rage personified, his cheeks shaking as he shouted. “Kill them! Kill every last one of them!”

King took Sara’s pistol from her hand and grabbed her by the wrist. He fired and began running. Sara followed, watching as he blazed a trail through the bodies blocking their way. He led them straight toward the courtyard exit. A moment later they burst from the circle like a nucleus being withdrawn from a cell.

The hybrids snapped out of their daze and launched after the three. The hair on their backs rose up. Their teeth gnashed. Their voices growled. They became as inhuman as the mothers . . . or grandmothers . . . who suddenly appeared at the courtyard exit, partly concealed in shadow.

King, Queen, and Sara slid to a stop on the wet courtyard floor. King looked back at the temple as he stopped. They were still too close, though the inch-deep water already flowing quickly past their feet was a good sign. The problem was that they would be torn to shreds before his plan could come to fruition. Either way they would be killed.

Still, he thought, I may have to risk it. He pulled the wireless detonator from his pocket and held it tight.

The hybrids stopped as well, confused by the sudden appearance of their ancestors.

Without pause, the old mothers charged.

King took aim despite the situation now being totally hopeless.

But he held his fire. Something wasn’t right.

The wall of charging Neanderthal women wasn’t converging on their position. In fact, the wall of fur opened up as it passed by them. The mothers were charging Weston and the hybrids!

King spun, watching as Weston’s and the hybrids’ shock turned to anger. This fight had been a long time coming. The two forces stopped short, sizing each other up and calling out like a horde of angry apes. Weston stepped back, looking fearfully at the mothers . . . and his children.

A heavy hand took King’s shoulder. He spun and raised the weapon between a pair of blue eyes that hovered above a wide smile.

“What do you think of my cavalry?”

Rook.

He was shirtless and bore a bloody bite mark on his shoulder and three broad slices across his chest. King lowered the weapon and smiled.

A second large body stepped out from behind him. “We should go.”

Bishop.

The hooting reached a crescendo, but the mothers were still waiting for something. As King wondered what they were waiting for, Rook stepped forward and shouted, “Now!”

King watched in shock as the old mothers followed Rook’s command and launched forward, fifteen five-foot-tall demolition balls. Their hair raised up, shimmering with wetness, and bouncing with every confident stride. Their yellow eyes glowed in the wet orange light delivered by the crystals through the still-falling torrent of rain.

Some of the younger and smaller hybrids ran straight off. As did Weston. But the larger males stood their ground. The old mothers launched at them, biting, swiping, and leaping from the larger males as though they were trees. Screams of pain and roars of anger rolled up through the cavern and cut through the sound of the falling rain.

“C’mon!” Rook shouted. “Knight is waiting for us by the river.”

They climbed over the ruined balustrades and made for the large gate, its massive opening a beacon of hope.

As they ran, Queen looked at Rook, his bleeding chest glowing orange in the surreal light. She looked at the bite wound on his shoulder. “You didn’t actually . . .”

Rook looked incredulous. “Hell no! I just made all sorts of promises I couldn’t keep, blah blah blah.”

“Like most of your relationships,” King added.

Rook smiled and nodded. “What can I say? I’m a ladies’ man.”

They passed through the gate as the hoots of hybrids in pursuit sounded out behind and around them. The city was alive. Full of hybrids. They would never escape, even with the help of the old mothers, who would most likely die as well.

As they neared the fourth gallery gate, five hybrids launched into the street, stalking toward them. King led the group to one of the nearby houses, pushing the button on the detonator once. When the team was off the street and headed up the stairs behind him, he stopped and let the others pass.

He looked out at the amazing city, lost for thousands of years and home to a forgotten civilization. The beauty and history of the place made King cringe at what he was about to do. This wonder could not be duplicated. It couldn’t be replaced.

But neither could the human race. Seeing no other option for escape, he shook his head, closed his eyes, and pushed the detonator button a second time.