Beyond Armageddon: Book 02 - Empire (5 page)

           
Nonetheless, they were obedient, fearless, and ruthless; an extension of Trevor’s will. They never questioned his orders, argued morals, or hesitated to obey.

           
As the number of human survivors grew, the importance of K9s in pitched battles diminished. They transitioned from front line fighting to rooting out alien predators as well as security, although more than a few Hivvans met their fate in the jaws of Trevor’s Grenadiers.

           
As far as anyone could tell, Trevor remained the only human who could communicate thoroughly with the K9s. Nonetheless, the dogs were born with an instinct for human commands.

           
The K9s numbered in the tens of thousands throughout the new civilization and provided basic perimeter and patrol security for almost every human community. While certainly intimidating to newcomers, people slept better knowing Grenadiers patrolled the streets.

           
His third gift proved the most puzzling of all, at least to those who had known him before Armageddon. Trevor’s close friends—like Jon Brewer and Dante Jones—could not understand how Stone knew how to fly helicopters or repair complicated equipment. How had he learned to be a good marksman or understand the tactics of war as well as any General?

           
He told them he had just “picked it up.” They never questioned further.

           
A collection of human genetic memories, this third gift remained stored in a secret room in an underground chamber beneath the mansion; a chamber only he could access using a key that was always around his neck but only visible when he needed it.

           
Those memories served as a library of knowledge and with that knowledge Trevor gained the courage and self-confidence to become the leader mankind needed.

           
Yet he did not completely understand the gift. Among those genetic memories came the know-how to fly the “Eagle” ships stolen from the Redcoat aliens. That information should not be accessible to him, not through his network of
human
memories;
human
genes.

           
It seemed the more Trevor learned about the new world the more mysteries he found.

           
In any case, as his Eagle approached the mansion, the deceleration woke Stone. With no windows inside the passenger compartment, he activated a view screen to look outside the craft.

Each time he saw ‘home’ he felt relieved; a part of him feared finding nothing but ruins overrun by hostiles; a fear that was a part of the responsibility he carried on his shoulders.

           
Surrounded by a tall black iron fence, the mansion sat isolated except for two neighbors: a silent A-frame on one side, a small white church fifty yards in the other direction.

           
 
A driveway climbed a slight grade toward the east-facing main house through a perfectly manicured lawn dotted with ornamental trees. A six-car garage with apartments on top rested in the northern quadrant of the grounds. Other, smaller buildings hid among the trees on the back half of the lot in the shadow of a mountain, including a barn that had been the original home for Trevor’s first army of dogs.

           
Standing two stories tall, the architecture suggested Victorian roots but lacked heavy gothic flavor. Thick pillars lined a big front porch while a second-floor balcony overlooked the front grounds with a breathtaking view of the lake.

           
The Eagle airship slowed to a stop in mid air and then descended onto a concrete helicopter pad built in the front yard.

–

           
Trevor pulled the sheets to his son’s chin. It was August, it was warm, but tucking Jorge in always meant literally tucking him in. No doubt Jorgie would soon toss and twist those sheets but Trevor followed the routine step by step.

           
“Tell me again, how fast did the Hivvans run?”

           
Trevor smiled at his boy’s desire to know about the world he would someday inherit. For such a young child he held an unusual grasp of the situation.

           
“They ran like a boy from a Jaw-Wolf,” he tickled JB’s nose. “Maybe even faster.”

“That’s pretty fast,” JB giggled. “I’m glad you’re home, father. Mommy is glad you’re home, too.”

           
Trevor kissed his boy on the forehead.

           
“Could you wrap bunny up?” JB asked before his father left.

           
‘Bunny’ was a fuzzy yellow rabbit given to the boy by Jon Brewer last Easter. JB had a small white and red blanket that always stayed with Bunny; the plush rabbit’s version of the covers Trevor pulled tight over his son at night.

           
Bunny always went to bed with JB and often times accompanied the boy on long trips. Most important, however, Bunny required wrapping, too.

           
When he finished, Trevor handed the bundle to his son who accepted it with a warm hug. Daddy then pulled those bed sheets snug again to his son’s chin.

           
“Sweet dreams, Jorge.”

           
Jorge, with his eyes closed, repeated, “…like a boy from a Jaw-Wolf…”

           
Trevor turned off the lamp on the nightstand and tip toed into the hallway. Ashley stood there with crossed arms.

           
“Like a boy from a Jaw-Wolf? Are you trying to give him nightmares?”

           
Trevor gently closed the door, but not quite all the way.

           
“I don’t think he gets nightmares.”

           
“Hmmm…” Ashley tried—unconvincingly—to sound annoyed.

           
They walked along the hall toward what had once been the second-floor ‘
Command
Center
‘. Now it served as Trevor’s personal office. The majority of official business and meetings took place in the basement conference room.

           
“So things went well?” Ashley asked.

           
 
“The bad guys are on the run.”

           
“You were
victorious
,” she said in a funny tone.

           
“Huh?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

           
The sliding doors to the balcony stood open and a soft breeze blew in. Outside, over the lake, an Eagle patrol ship flew through the night sky with spotlights searching the waters below and its running lights flashing like big fireflies.

           
He stood at the balcony and watched. The image of the ship floating over the waters with its lights flashing resembled a special effects shot from a movie; surreal.

In truth, so much of what happened at the mansion seemed surreal any more. He and Ashley, for instance. Their relationship felt more like a stage play. They never actually went through with the wedding they had been planning before the world fell apart. All the seating chart strategies and finely planned details were now faded memories of a dream life.

In truth, few people formally married in the post-Armageddon world. Those of strong religious beliefs went to clergy and received the blessings of their preferred church, but Trevor’s bureaucracy offered no official sanction of ‘marriage.’

           
Appointed regional judges settled “legal” disputes between people but had no time to stamp marriage licenses. More important issues—from food to alien monsters—vied for ‘government’ attention.

To Trevor, finding Ashley covered in the green goo four years before had been a surprise, but not a shock. Some how it seemed to fit. Of course. He could not be with Nina because he was supposed to be with Ashley. Why?

           
She was no fighter. Ashley had been somewhat of a whiny princess in the old days. Not a survivor at all. Ah, but what better reason for her to have been chosen to ‘ride the ark’?

           
Yet for her, no time had elapsed. She spoke to her fiancé in one breath, then gasped for air in the next as he pulled her from a gooey coffin.

           
Not so for him. Between the moment of her disappearance and the time of her reappearance, his entire person changed from a directionless young man to a single-minded leader equipped with the knowledge and burdened with the responsibility to fight a war against alien invaders.

           
His months with Nina taught him the truth about his feelings for Ashley: he never really loved her. Not the type of deep, open love he felt with Nina. With his true love stripped from his life, he did not want to return to that old-world lie.

           
For the first days after her return, he comforted her, awkwardly. He explained how the world changed. He did not need to explain how he had changed, she saw that for herself.

Then he found out why he was supposed to be with Ashley. She told him about her nausea and a missed period. Dr. Maple quickly confirmed Ashley Trump’s pregnancy.

           
After JB’s birth, blood testing confirmed his paternity and his humanity. Whatever force stole her away on the ark did not manipulate the child’s development, only postponed the birth.

           
Trevor understood. Jorge Benjamin Stone was the reason he had to be with Ashley.

           
JB needed a father, not merely a sperm donor. A father and a mother.
His
father and mother. Trevor and Ashley.

           
Perhaps JB would be the next link on the chain.

           
To her credit, it did not take long for Ashley Trump to change, either.

           
Ironically, her ride on the ark made her something akin to royalty in the new world. That and her being—for all purposes—the wife of Trevor Stone. She demonstrated a quiet strength in her husband’s shadow.

           
In many ways, she legitimately became the ‘princess’ Lori Brewer often referred to her as in the old days. Yet the uppity attitude that elicited that derogatory title dissipated.

           
Ashley did not know of Trevor’s relationship with
Nina
Forest
. Nonetheless, it did not take her long to realize she did not hold Trevor’s heart. Not firmly, at least.

           
They shared the same bed. Sometimes there was affection and there was always kindness.

           
It seemed Ashley had come to believe she played a role in all this, too. The role of JB’s mother. The role of Trevor’s supportive companion. A place for her in the world of nightmares she had awoken to. Like him, it was a role forced upon her.

           
Trevor watched the Eagle patrol ship move across the waters of the lake. Ashley stood next to him.

           
“Beautiful night,” she said. “I’m going to bed now. You’re welcome to join me.”

           
An invitation. Yet no matter how heated their embrace may become when they shared warmth, they both sensed a barrier between them. The same barrier imprisoning them in their roles in the new world.

Oh, it was not a harsh prison. She was beautiful. He had evolved into a handsome, chiseled man. There were worse fates.

           
Trevor looked out at the August night one more time. The lights of the patrol craft faded in the distance.

           
He thought he would accept the invitation. To feel her touch would be…would be nice.

           
Trevor walked away from the balcony…
      

           
…Through binoculars, a pair of eyes watched Trevor disappear inside the mansion.

           
The figure stood amongst the trees on the slope of the mountain. He had watched the estate for a long time. For days now.

           
At the same moment he watched Trevor move from view, the shadowy figure realized
they
had caught his scent.

           
Two Siberian Huskies abandoned their patrol route and raced toward the scent of the intruder. They came upon the shadowy man standing amidst the trees. They sensed he did not belong.

           
The shadow stood still as the angry dogs approached. He heard their snarls. He felt them prepare to strike, slowing as they circled the trapped quarry.

           
“Very good,” he patted his hands together in a quiet clap, cheering the dogs for their keen awareness. “You must be the best of the best,” he spoke as their nostrils flared. “What a shame.”

           
The Grenadiers stepped closer; snarls gasped from their snouts.