The Deadliest Earthling Page 13

  Two deep breaths steadied him and he made his descent. He crouched at a spot of loose dirt. The simple motion caused his head to swim, and the slope teetered up at his face.

  Chapter 32

  Johnny slipped in and out of sleep over the next twenty-four hours. Somehow he had ended up in a bed. An old woman loomed over him with wet cloths and bandages, doing things to his head and body. He heard Morris saying prayers in the background. The pain in his arm stretched across the hours, sometimes so intense it threatened to consume him. Other times it seemed nonexistent. Still, he couldn’t pinpoint the pain to any specific moments.

  Morris and a young boy came in the morning. A fog still lingering in his head, Johnny asked the obvious questions—where were they and what happened. Shushing him, the young boy offered him spiced milk.

  “Hot chai tea,” Morris said.

  Johnny sipped it and, little by little, his head cleared. The boy smiled and left.

  He felt an ache on his forehead and touched below his hairline to find a nasty scab.

  “You can thank gravity for that,” Morris said.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t you remember? You fell down the path, and this boy and his mom found you. They were gathering firewood.”

  Johnny’s heart skipped a beat. “Where’s the Conifer and the earring?”

  Morris opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet, revealing the items of interest. Johnny cradled the Conifer, then set it back next to the earring.

  “I’m sorry about Orun.”

  Orun… The memory of him sacrificing himself flooded back into Johnny’s mind. He wished that had only been a nightmare.

  “It’s okay,” Johnny said.

  “At least, they haven’t got her yet.”

  Johnny knew he meant the Eagle by the way he said it.

  “How do you know? How’d you know about Orun?”

  Morris frowned, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Orun taught me a few tricks. I managed to eavesdrop on a house with a radio. Heard the whole broadcast announcing his capture. They also said the Eagle would be next.”

  “The Anunnaki say that a lot. Doesn’t mean they will,” Johnny said to convince himself as much as Morris.

  Catching on to Johnny’s angst, Morris grinned. “They weren’t the only ones talking about her either. You muttered about her in your sleep.”

  “What did I say?” Johnny snapped.

  Morris laughed. “When did you become so anxious? Nothing in front of this family, if that’s what you mean.”

  Johnny turned away, noting the bumps and scrunches of his wool blanket. They’d already lost a day back to Kandrazi. And they needed five to get there. With Orun in their grip and time on their side, everything pointed to the Anunnaki capturing Dagos any day now.

  Morris picked at the sleeve of his white thobe. “We can start heading back whenever you want.”

  Even his cousin knew how urgently they needed to reach the Eagle. Johnny suddenly became aware of every second they were wasting here.

  “Just give me a bit.”

  Morris patted him on the shoulder, then stood up.

  “By the way, you sure you don’t want me to pray for your friends?”

  Johnny looked at him in confusion. If it didn’t catch him so off guard, he probably would’ve snapped at Morris.

  “You were saying their names in your sleep, too.” Morris winked.

  They trudged through the village’s main street, gnawing on flatbread topped with honey and cheese. A rucksack of supplies hung on their backs, compliments of the mother and son.

  The sun on Johnny’s skin felt like a strange substance, but he was glad to be on the move again.

  There was only one problem. They’d asked and searched throughout the village for a quick way of returning to Kandrazi. There wasn’t one. No horses, no cars, no Anunnaki ships to hijack. Meaning it was all on foot from this point.

  The whole idea of wasting five days heading back to Kandrazi seemed insane. Because then they’d only have two days left to take the Conifers to Zacharia.

  Chapter 33

  “So no hurt feelings?” Johnny said, lowering his mug of beer and watching Morris nurse his. He still felt a bit guilty over their argument at Fort Bloodhound.

  “Well, I wish you would’ve heard me out,” he grumbled.

  “On what?”

  “You know, the Ark and the Conifers and all that,” Morris said, his speech impeded slightly. Johnny scratched the spot where his jaw met his neck. His finger touched a toughened line. A scratch from Orun’s one-time warp gate throwing him across the mountain three days before.

  The men in the bar, a farmer’s converted living room, had no problem serving beer to teenagers who stopped in, but Johnny doubted they’d tolerate hearing Morris announcing his theories about connections between Anunnaki and the Bible. Going by their thick beards and hard looks as they lounged on couches and stood against the wall with drinks, this was the last place to get into a scrap.

  Johnny fished a few silver flakes from his jeans pocket and left it on the table.

  “Let’s go.”

  He and Morris cruised out of the house. They walked past a goat pen, the stench of straw and manure meeting their nose, and headed westward as their map said to.

  Johnny raised the issue again as they clomped over dry dirt hills of shrubs and jagged rocks.

  “What about the Ark, then? We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. Fill me in.”

  Morris licked his lips. “Man, that stuff chapped my lips.”

  “You’re dehydrated.”

  “I’ll say.” Morris pulled out his canteen, sipped, and replaced it in his rucksack. “Funny thing about my life as a deacon. I think I interpreted the Bible more figuratively than most of the worshippers every Sunday.”

  “How’s that?”

  “When your parents would visit my house, they’d always talk about Anunnaki. Their anti-gravity boots and their aircraft. I guess it stuck with me. First time I remember going to church, they spoke about angels descending and ascending into Heaven. I asked my parents if they did it with anti-gravity boots.”

  They shared a laugh. Morris ran a hand over his hair. “They didn’t take that too well. Thought I was silly in the head.”

  “Weren’t you only, what, six years old maybe?”

  “Somewhere around there. But they didn’t want me going on the wrong path. So they signed me up for Sunday school.”

  “And that’s how the story of Morris the deacon started, huh?” Johnny said with an admiring grin.

  “What can I say, when I learned what Jesus, Job, and the Israelites went through, the things bullies did to me didn’t seem so bad. Anyway, I asked Orun about our discussion about the Bible and the Conifers. He referred me to Samuel 1:5. Know what that talks about?”

  Johnny stared dully.

  “It’s about the Philistines transporting the Ark of God. Funny thing happened when they took it to Ashdod. The people there got tumors. Now, I don’t know as much about Anunnaki technology as you, but isn’t mannadium radioactive?”

  “Not mannadium itself, but a mannadium reactor is,” Johnny said, embarrassed by how intrigued this was making him.

  “Right. I’m thinking either the Ark of the Covenant helped power a mannadium reactor or it was some kind of mannadium reactor. That explains the tumors and the other story I told you. About the Israelites living off manna, just like the Anunnaki.”

  Johnny gave a contemplative hm, not sure what to think about these things. On the one hand, Morris’s connections made sense. On the other hand, it meant the Anunnaki had existed on Earth for a long time. But his instructors and the Eagle told him the first ones arrived as spies in the early twentieth century.

  “Isn’t it kind of a stretch?”

  “Oh come on, it can’t be that hard to believe,” Morris grumbled. “You’ve got a stone that can create holograms, for God’s sake.”

  They exchanged a grin. In his outrageous en
thusiasm, Morris had a point. Still, Johnny saw no reason his instructors would lie to them. And his parents had dedicated themselves to turning him into an encyclopedia on the Anunnaki. They wouldn’t just leave out the fact that the Anunnaki helped influence the stories in the Bible.

  Early a few mornings later they spotted the glows of torches in the distance. Johnny grabbed a pair of binoculars from his rucksack, climbed up a nearby ridge, and studied the smaller town that lay ahead. This wasn’t the same district of Kandrazi as the bunker. He tightened his hold on the binoculars until he felt a sharp pain. This district sat more along the outskirts. To make matters worse, he spotted flickers patrolling the streets, people lined up on their knees before them. There would be no saving them.

  Chapter 34

  “Damn,” Johnny said under his breath.

  The Anunnaki were probably searching for the Eagle. Letting his rucksack tumble to the bottom, he slid down the hill. They needed to stay clear of the Anunnaki until they were closer to the bunker.

  Though it was sure to delay them, they skirted around the town, trekking through a valley full of dark green trees and adobe-brick houses. The sound of running water and birds chirping almost put Johnny at ease. There was also the echo of a wild-voiced man singing a morning prayer in Arabic. When the prayer ended minutes later, though, faint but rapid crackles and pops replaced it. Gunfire.

  Passing by a mud-brick house, the distinctive whine of a radio caught Johnny’s attention.

  Static obscured the speaker, but Johnny recognized the voice at once. The Eagle. It seemed to be the middle of one of her speeches. Radio broadcasts she occasionally gave to intimidate the Anunnaki but also raise the spirit of resistance fighters and all those who opposed their occupation of Earth.

  “I’ve listened to the Anunnaki make threats of capturing me for decades. It’s only now that I can finally say I don’t care if I am defeated. Because any attempt on my life will be avenged. The Anunnaki have captured Orun, but humanity has a new hope on its side. I warn the Anunnaki that the deadliest earthling is out there.”

  The deadliest earthling. She meant him. He was the Keeper in New Bagram. Now, beyond Bagram, he was the deadliest earthling.

  So who is the deadliest earthling? a new voice said. A fabrication of the Watchers or a new threat to our way of life?

  Johnny’s eyes diminished.

  “You hear that? The Eagle is still alive,” Morris said.

  Johnny issued a long sigh and wandered off a few feet to a ditch and sat on the brim.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Morris asked, coming up to him with a cross look.

  Johnny sliced a line in the dirt with his hand, a loose layer tumbling free. “The last thing a person tells you is supposed to mean something, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Before he sacrificed himself, Orun reminded me of something he used to call me. The deadliest earthling. I thought he was trying to tell me that he’d always meant it as a pet name. Not in a mean way.”

  As the sunrise shattered the grey of the sky, the dirt path brought them to a ridge with a clear view of Kandrazi’s primary district. Trees, rooftops, telephone poles, distant mountains, and jet-black smoke hung over the city. Johnny couldn’t put a trace on the gunfire, but it played steadily somewhere. In the distance, maybe a few miles away, stood the twin hills, the bunker and Dagos inside one.

  “You remember my parents, right?” Johnny asked.

  “Vaguely.”

  “They weren’t…normal.”

  Morris nodded. “A bit rough around the edges.”

  “Exactly. Everything with them had to boil down to a purpose. To making me a super-soldier. When Orun took over, I kind of hoped he might be different. But he was exactly like them. All about continuing what my parents started.” Johnny bit his lip. “Maybe that’s all he was doing before he sacrificed himself. He was prepping me to embrace the new title. The deadliest earthling.”

  Morris shook his head. “Orun wouldn’t do that.” But he didn’t sound like he believed it.

  “He and the Eagle worked together a lot. And I know the Eagle has no problem turning me into her poster soldier.”

  “Well, there are worse things than being the hope of humanity,” Morris said quietly.

  A muddy path led around a rock quarry littered with crumpled bottles, cigarette butts, plastic bags, and a dozen other waste items. An empty playground of dead grass and rusting swings delivered them to a large river, the water gurgling as it cruised over rocks. Men and women were already flocking to both sides of the muddy riverbank, collecting water in plastic bottles or soaking dirty shirts and pants. He could smell the moisture. And also the rusty, overripe fruit stench of garbage.

  Morris glanced nervously at the rocky slope leading down to the riverbank.

  “Don’t worry, we’re not going swimming,” Johnny said. He’d only ever swam in the New Bagram pool a few times when Orun forced him, and he hated it. Instead, he eyed a blue-bellied bridge with yellow railing that stretched a few hundred feet ahead, complete with long-dead cars and streetlights. It could safely deliver them into Kandrazi’s main district.

  The problem was that Naga had apparently taken the job of the city’s new gatekeepers. Johnny stepped back as a group of people trudged off the bridge and away from Kandrazi, throwing the Naga dirty looks. Long stretches of dull, flat-roofed buildings lined the waterfront like some kind of medieval castle wall. There, Anunnaki had set up battery towers. The sight of Anunnaki soldiers dotting the road and dark interiors of shops and markets just below warned of a massive raid. He took another ten seconds watching two Anunnaki soldiers kick a crowd of five tired-looking men out of one store, then gesture to the bridge.

  Maybe this wasn’t a raid at all, but a citywide evacuation. Strange because more than likely the Anunnaki hoped to capture the Eagle. Did they think they’d find the Conifer with her too? That would explain the massive investment of manpower, or Naga-power.

  He gazed down the length of the river. There had to be a way through. But even at streets leading deeper into Kandrazi, the Anunnaki manned barricades of shields and various debris—oil drums, remains of cars, broken vendor stands. Occasionally a few people would drift out, an Anunnaki shoving them toward the bridge.

  Johnny let his chin sink against a patch of dirt on the ridge and checked the battery towers on the rooftops. Boulder-sized metal orbs. The only reason they didn’t collapse some of the buildings was that they were mostly hollow inside, where energy was conducted and stored. The Naga must’ve set those up a few hours ago. Meaning they expected to stay here for as long as it took.

  Bursts of heavy gunfire reminded him that analyzing the situation would only get him so far.

  He wanted to hit someone. They’d wasted five days traveling, only to end up with no way inside Kandrazi.

  “So how are we getting past all of that?” Morris asked between two loud blasts.

  Flickers skidded down the brim of the river, venturing across a shallow muddy bank where people were trying to stock up on water and clean their laundry. Shouting followed as the Anunnaki ordered them to leave.

  The only place the Anunnaki weren’t shooing people off was the muddy trash-filled trench that sat under a big, grated sewage pipe with brown liquid dripping out. Approximately two blocks down, it wouldn’t take too long to reach. And if they broke off the grate, it had to lead them somewhere into the city.

  Johnny didn’t want to think about crawling through the inside of the sewer pipe, but he saw no other choice. He’d crawled through mud at New Bagram, but never anything this outright disgusting.

  “Just follow me,” he said, cringing.

  They hopped through the hills of dirt that served as the locals’ backyards. When they were overlooking the spot, Johnny activated his Conifer’s cloaking. He climbed over the stone wall that led to the riverbank and let himself descend the slope. Wet sand and pebbles crunched under his boots. A whiff of sewage brushed
up at his nose. He snorted but knew it would only get worse.

  “Don’t tell me we’re going in there,” Morris whispered.

  “Okay, I won’t,” Johnny said, wading into the water. “Try to get to the other side on one breath. There’s less chance they spot us that way.”

  The drones, he meant.

  He gulped a deep breath and waded through, his knees and feet skimming the rocks of the riverbed. A strong flow of water threatened to push him off balance, forcing his muscles to pump harder than he would’ve liked.

  Upon emerging on the opposite muddy bank, he reeled at the pungent sewage stench. Fighting back a cough, he raised his kaffiyeh and tied it around his nose.

  His foot sank into mud and filth of the trench on his first step. Just a few more feet, he told himself, trying to fend off the urge to escape the cesspool. Lips tight, he sipped his first breath through his kaffiyeh. The air was moist and probably full of bacteria, but at least he spared his nose.

  Behind him Morris gave a muffled groan.

  Strained step by strained step, Johnny made his way to the sewage grate and heaved it up. Inside, they walked fast, but it was still slow going. Wet. Cold. Thick goop sliding past their feet. The air smothered them. Every few minutes, Johnny stopped, his stomach exploding with nausea, and gagged. Fortunately, there was nothing in his belly to spew up.

  He wondered how Skunk would’ve fared here. A common game they played as recruits under Ibdan’s orders was hide-and-seek. Sometimes you had to hide. Sometimes you were a seeker. Everyone knew Skunk liked hiding in pig mud pens. As a seeker once, Johnny found Skunk submerged in a fresh spread of manure on one of the fields.