The Deadliest Earthling Page 8

  Another pulse surge rattled past him, spurring him onward. Except he was already running so fast his heart could spontaneously combust. Cutting into the apartment complex, he maintained his speed. It occurred to him that at some point he needed to slow down or else—

  A hard surface knocked Johnny’s foot out from beneath him. He flew forward, the dark walls swirling around him. Then he slammed into a rough cement block on his way to the ground. Sharp pain shot up his left forearm. The impact left his entire body throbbing and his head pulsing. Intense enough that he didn’t even know he’d stopped moving for another couple of seconds.

  Blinking, he staggered to his feet. At an attempt to move his left arm, it went numb. Under the glow of his Conifer, he registered a hot-pink patch. Not a good sign by any means.

  He hopped behind a pillar and focused the Conifer’s light onto the wooden board he’d hidden his backpack and rifle beneath. With a nudge from his boot, he flipped it over, revealing dirt.

  “Son of a…” Johnny muttered, his insides liquefying in panic. He scoured the area and saw no signs of his gear. Had someone jacked his stuff?

  A new fear pierced him, and he checked the flash-bangs he’d strung up high. Only the strings dangled. The flash-bangs were gone. Old voices from his childhood told him not to panic. Fight back his body’s natural response. He took a deep breath and heard the Anunnaki lumbering toward him. They’d surrounded the complex.

  Chapter 22

  A couple of raw bent iron rods poked out of the wall like sinister fingers. He’d used them earlier to climb to support beams above. Now they might be his only avenue of escape.

  He scampered up, clamped the girder with his working arm, and heaved himself onto the platform there. It wasn’t much. The ribs of a second floor. There weren’t even walls or a roof. But for now it would buy him some time. He lay flat on his back, his latest motion filling his body with fresh aches. Staring up at the clouds, he couldn’t help but berate himself. Years of training, and this was what he’d achieved.

  Three deep-drawn breaths steadied his heart. Despite the sweat all over him, he didn’t feel exhausted. Only hurt. With a frown, he tried his arm again to find it still numb. Blood rushed in his ears. He leaned to the side and risked a view. Naga soldiers were spread out in the complex’s first floor, totally unaware of his spot.

  “Come on out, earthling,” one shouted. Earthling. A hateful slur from the Shroud War. The Anunnaki used “earthling” to make the humans they killed or abducted seem like mongrels deserving of the abuse.

  Of course they’d find him eventually. They knew they had him surrounded and that he could only go in one direction. He patted his chest pocket. A single stun grenade sat snug inside. Add the knife strapped to his ankle, and he might have a shot at killing one, maybe even two. But if he went that route, he’d probably end up in the ditch on the other street. Bloodied and broken.

  Part of him said not to worry. Orun would find a way to help him. True, he probably lurked close by. Maybe close enough to observe his predicament. He wanted to believe Orun could bend the rules enough to get him out of this, but deep down he knew Orun would never do that. He’d made no secret that there were limits to his patience and concern for Johnny.

  Due to Orun’s special armor, sparring between them ended up no holds barred. At least on Johnny’s end. He could punch Orun, kick him, stab him. Even fire a gun at him with no effect. Knives and bullets slipped right off his skin. But sometimes Orun delivered as much back. Nothing lethal. Still, Orun’s blows came accurate and unseen. And it was always the punches you didn’t see coming that hurt the worst.

  While Orun couldn’t take any hostile actions against the Anunnaki, he pointed out this all amounted to nothing more than training. Not acts of war.

  He’d leave Johnny’s chin aching for days after knocking him down. But worse were the liver shots. They sucked the wind straight out of his lungs, sapped the energy from all of his limbs, and speared agony through his gut all in one. He’d outright cried the first time Orun hit him with one of those. It took a whole week before he could even spar again. He begged Orun not to use one. Just to teach him to never point out his weakness to his enemy, Orun delivered it first thing in their next fight.

  Johnny’s eyes dimmed thinking about that. He’d stayed up for nights after those fights, dreading their next sparring sessions. Tormented by his own fears of Orun catching him with that shot. He hated him for putting him through that.

  Grunts from the Anunnaki soldiers forced reality back into his focus. His base instincts begged him to hide there for as long as he could. His learned instincts warned that he needed to run. Sooner or later, the Anunnaki would deploy another aerial drone to find him with infrared visors. Again, he mentally measured how far his knife and flash-bang could take him.

  The throbbing in his ears had quieted, and he heard the Naga soldiers. Either their pacing about or turning over debris as if he’d hidden underneath. Since the Anunnaki had him surrounded, they’d likely posted one flicker on each side of the complex. That left four to inspect the place. If he gathered those four Anunnaki into one area and launched the flash-bang, he’d stun them long enough to get outside. Then he could knife the one Anunnaki guard on his side and hightail it to a nearby house or shack. Anything to get him off their radar.

  Not impossible, but given the distance of this complex to other buildings, he’d have to make it at least a hundred feet. They’d shoot him long before that.

  Getting out of here was his biggest desire, but also the most predictable. Maybe he should stay here. The Anunnaki would’ve already checked the wooden board he’d hidden his gear under. If he pulled off his planned maneuver, they’d expect him to run. Under the wooden board would be the last place they’d look.

  In a quick motion, he sat up and extracted the knife from his ankle sheath. Setting it on his chest, he fished the flash-bang from his pocket. Now he only needed to get their attention.

  “Over here,” he shouted.

  Alarmed screeches echoed through the complex. He heard them crashing through the building. Tearing the pin out with his teeth, he tossed the grenade to the other side of the would-be room, shut his eyes, and planted his head against the platform. He’d barely covered his exposed ear with a palm when an intense bang sent the world spinning. That was his cue. His knife fit snugly between his teeth as he climbed down.

  A glance confirmed the flickers stumbling about. Then there was only the one outside to take care of. A lean out of cover, and he plucked the knife from his mouth. The Anunnaki extended his arm at him. At the same time Johnny launched the blade through the air. It lodged into the soft of the Anunnaki’s huge head. That’s for New Bagram.

  As the Anunnaki crumpled over, he bolted for the wooden board, grabbing a rock along the way. He flung the rock out of the complex and into the dirt. If nothing else, the Anunnaki would hear the noise and assume it was him running. A couple of seconds later, he reclined onto the dirt and replaced the wooden board atop himself.

  Slowly, the stunned Naga grumbled and moved out of the apartment’s skeleton. Yet he couldn’t leave or even fall asleep because one remained patrolling mere feet away. If he so much as coughed, the Anunnaki soldier would put him to sleep permanently.

  The hours passed slowly and miserably. Itches teased him. His mouth tasted stale. His limbs stiffened. Yet he didn’t dare move more than an inch here and there. He reminded himself that he’d trained for this exact situation.

  Eventually, the first specks of dawn arrived. As a distant but distinctly human conversation met his ears, his relief strengthened. He listened for nearby movement or breathing. Outside of their cities and bases, Anunnaki wore special breather devices, usually a flat unit over their chest. If one stood close by, he would’ve heard the faint hum of its breather. Nothing, though.

  A woman’s scream froze him in place. There must’ve been an Anunnaki nearby. Except the woman’s scream worsened to a sob. She began shouting in Arabic.
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  Distant murmuring heightened his curiosity. He pushed the board up and to the side. Not far away, a shaggy-bearded man and his son raced across the street. All around the road, people made a beeline for the spot where the woman was shouting. A couple of men setting up vendor stands and towing brown bags of goods stopped and followed the crowd.

  Johnny jogged over to the woman. She was kneeling by a body.

  His stomach tightened as he registered the dead man, face bloodied into oblivion, his clothes red-stained rags. The crowd broke into whispers and revolted groans.

  Johnny mentally traced the path he’d taken from the ditch to the alley to the complex that night. The man, he realized, collided with the Anunnaki as they were chasing him. Maybe he’d been returning to the apartment complex for an easy place to sleep.

  Orun materialized at the edge of the crowd.

  “I warned him to stay away, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  Chapter 23

  The oatmeal smelled stale, but Johnny didn’t care. In fact, he ignored the spoon on the table, grasped the bowl in both hands, and sipped at it, refusing to meet the Eagle’s gaze.

  Orun sat at the far end of the table, eyes blacked out. He’d finished giving his report and was searching the World Tree for updates on the Ascendi.

  “It might help if we heard your side of the story,” the Eagle said to Johnny. A debriefing worked out the kinks in a plan and exposed any details that one might’ve missed going into a mission. But Johnny didn’t want to relive the night or the dead man he saw in the morning.

  “It’s like Orun said, my gear was stolen and the Ascendi never showed up.”

  The Eagle sighed. “Hassan never could control his militia so well.”

  That explained why the Eagle didn’t enlist the aid of the local militia.

  “Were they responsible for frightening off the Ascendi too?” Johnny asked.

  “Was there any contact?” Dagos said.

  “I killed one Anunnaki and stunned a few.”

  It sounded much less of an accomplishment in front of the Eagle, who’d probably killed hundreds of Anunnaki. There was also the fact they had two less days to find the Conifers.

  “Nothing else, then?” the Eagle asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Johnny cast his head from side to side. I accidentally got a man killed, he thought. At least Orun didn’t tell her that.

  “Rest, then.”

  He stood up and dragged himself over to the main room. The couch didn’t feel as comfortable as he’d hoped. It felt hard and raw. And he’d spent the last six hours on dirt. He needed to find three Conifers to save New Bagram’s survivors. But how could he expect to save them if he was getting people killed?

  “Should I be asking how it went?” Morris said.

  “You kind of are,” Johnny said, shutting his eyes.

  “Well, I read something interesting, you might—”

  “I don’t care about a freaking book, okay?” Johnny groaned.

  He didn’t know if he cared about anything right now. He could’ve jumped off of an Anunnaki orbital satellite and felt less terrible. He thought about the Eagle wanting to debrief him. To go over his mistakes and better prepare for the future. But none of this had been his fault. If Hassan’s militia didn’t steal his gear, he could’ve at least captured an Anunnaki to interrogate. That was the frustrating part. He could only account for himself.

  Worse, the idea that Orun would’ve seen the militia enter the apartment complex but not warned Johnny. Of course he knew what his excuse would’ve been. If he’d approached Johnny while a drone scanned the ditch, they would’ve detected Orun. Even his advanced armor couldn’t cloak him Conifer-style. Still, getting rid of the bad taste of Orun’s uselessness proved difficult.

  Speaking of, Orun entered the room with a furtive exhalation. “Reports on the World Tree say the Ascendi missed an important meeting with the Sinsers. The Ascendi claimed they were too busy, suggesting what?”

  After a second, Johnny realized Orun wanted him to finish the sentence.

  “Orun,” he protested.

  “Suggesting what?”

  Johnny bit his lip. He dug into his memory on the Ascendi. The Sinsers had forced the Ascendi Major and Minor into combat. That neither appeared at a meeting with the Sinsers implied a lack of coordination and a lack of cooperation. Maybe things had gone sour behind the scenes. That’s what he sensed Orun was getting at, anyway.

  “The Ascendi are running their own show?” Johnny said.

  “It’s a big possibility and something we may be able to exploit later on,” Orun said.

  “And what about right now?”

  “How bad is your arm?”

  Johnny hesitated. He’d barely moved it since getting back.

  “It’s…”

  “I’d say we should spar, but that might be a bit unfair in your current state. Let me have a look.”

  Johnny watched Orun cautiously. The thought of sparring with Orun did not sit well.

  He didn’t know why he ever bothered offering his arm. Maybe Orun’s intentions intrigued him. He loomed over him and ran his hand over the purple patch of his arm. Like the bruises Orun left him with during their earlier days of sparring. All to teach him a lesson. A lesson that proved a worse punishment than the pain itself. Because he knew Orun could heal him.

  Once he and Orun discovered a hawk, fluttering pathetically in the middle of a New Bagram street, its wing bent at an uncanny angle. Someone with a BB gun had shot it. Orun had bent down beside it, and the next thing Johnny knew it soared into the air.

  In the bunker living room, a surge of the Khepers sprang from Orun’s rod, hovering in the air over Johnny’s fractured forearm. He blinked in disbelief, almost frightened by the unexpected act. The metallic dust swirled over the bruised patch of skin and disappeared into his pores. A tingling sensation replaced the numbing pain.

  But rather than gratitude, Johnny felt only resentment. Resentment at the way Orun tried to make light of their sparring together and overlook how hard he’d pushed Johnny. That he decided to finally offer his healing abilities now when he wasn’t even asking. As if fixing his arm might fix more than that.

  Orun released his arm. Johnny wiggled his fingers.

  “Good as new,” Orun said.

  Johnny’s face dropped. “Are you expecting a thank you?”

  Orun lowered his head, his words taut. “I have never asked you for anything except to train.”

  “And that’s what this is about,” Johnny said sharply. “You want me back in fighting shape to get me out there soon.”

  “All things considered, it might not be a bad thing.”

  Johnny folded his arms. Orun made a good point, but that didn’t mean his intentions were purely of kindness. “I don’t have a problem with it. Just know this changes nothing between us, okay?”

  “If nothing is different, why bring it up?”

  Orun left him with that question to think about. As he strolled away, Johnny forced the festering embarrassment from his mind. He wouldn’t let this get to him. But the question refused to vanish from his thoughts, so he composed some answers. Because you think I’m going to forgive you. Because I can see through you trying to manipulate me.

  But those only fostered his resentment. He felt a stupid tightness in his throat. Flopping back onto the couch, the ever-present mountainous design of the ceiling filled his view. An idea he’d hidden away in the recesses of his wants and desires confronted him. He wanted things to change between him and Orun. He wanted Orun to care.

  Chapter 24

  The room fell close to silent. Johnny listened to the hum of the bunker’s lighting. With no windows, they were dependent on it, candles, flashlights, or his Conifer.

  If he was bored, he could probably find a deck of cards to stack. Except that something more stifling than boredom plagued him.

  A book slapped shut. On instinct, he tilted his head over. Morris pushed down the metal door handle, walked
into the kitchen, and closed the door behind him.

  After a minute, a few labored footfalls and the thud of a cane alerted Johnny to the Eagle. She wore a grey shirt that must’ve been stored in the bunker and her classic bomber jacket. It accentuated the weariness in her eyes. In all the posters showing her and that jacket, her eyes shone with ferocity and determination.

  “I’d like to hear your part of what happened out there,” she said.

  Johnny shrugged. “What is there to say?”

  “That’s the question.”

  He felt awful about the whole thing. The fact that he’d failed in his mission. That Orun didn’t even warn him. That an innocent man lost his life. That the Anunnaki knew the Conifer existed somewhere in Kandrazi. And that the Eagle ever expected him to succeed in the first place.

  “My answer won’t get us any closer to finding the Conifers,” he said deadpan. “Not if we don’t have the right people for the job.”

  “I think we have the right person,” the Eagle said.

  “How can you trust me with all of this?” he asked. “How were you so sure I wouldn’t get myself killed last night?”

  “Do you ever wonder how your life would be different if you weren’t a Watcher?” the Eagle asked, her eyes hanging with a faraway look.

  Johnny stared at her in puzzlement.

  “I have,” she admitted.

  “But you’re…” But you’re the Eagle, he wanted to say. Then he caught the implication. She hadn’t always been the Eagle.

  “That’s the problem with a persona. No one ever sees beyond it,” the Eagle said.

  Johnny realized he was completely guilty of that. He tucked in his chin. “It’s funny. I never pictured you not wanting to fight Anunnaki.”

  She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, her back to him. “The point is that there were plenty of times I doubted myself. Those stories about me surviving a firestorm are true. And there’s the time a gravity generator almost killed me.”