Once again, the monster seems to hear her words. Nemesis stands, stumbling to the side, her mind feeling the first effects of a bacterial assault. Then she’s up and moving again, headed toward the now nearby coastline.
From our position high above, I can see what lies ahead. The neighborhoods come to an end, which is a good thing, but in their place is a treeless path of earth absolutely covered in massive, white oil tanks. “What is that?”
“Chevron refinery,” Endo says.
I’m torn by indecision. If we let her go through the refinery, we’re going to have an ecological disaster on our hands, at best. At worst, the place will go up in flames and take half of the city with it, maybe more. But if we can somehow force Nemesis around the refinery, she’ll be once again storming through neighborhoods.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Silhouette says, ending my silent debate. He’s right. There are no weapons on board that she’ll even feel. We just need to hope the bacteria does its job in time.
But it’s clearly not. While Nemesis’s gait is awkward and stumbling, she never slows her pace or trajectory. She reaches the refinery, crashing through a field of oil tanks. One by one, they rupture and disgorge their contents like thick, huge, milk cartons full of black milk.
But nothing explodes.
That is, until the squadron of Air Force jets I called in when this began decides to take matters into their own hands. I see a group of five swoop around, heading for Nemesis. I call back to Collins, “Call the Air Force off! There’s no—”
“Too late,” Silhouette says, and the seatbelt digs into my chest as we rapidly decelerate.
Missiles streak out from the array of jets. The pilots are no doubt locals, or have lived in the area long enough to feel an affinity for it. Whatever the case may be, their bleeding hearts have led them astray.
As we decelerate to a stop, the missiles close the distance to Nemesis as she nears the far end of the refinery, and the coast just a beach beyond that. I take Maigo’s arm. She snaps out of a trance-like state and looks up at me. “Buckle up! Everyone buckle up!”
She leaps back into her seat, and I’m relieved to see that Lilly, still unconscious, is buckled in next to Hawkins, and the stranger next to Collins, all ready for what’s about to happen. I turn to Silhouette. “Mach 6, huh?”
He nods, punching buttons. “I’m setting the autopilot to disengage in sixty seconds. Any more than that and we’ll be paste.”
“Sounds fantastic. DARPA should open an amusement park.” The missiles are seconds away from Nemesis, who is coated in oil and standing in the world’s largest oil spill, surrounded by how many gallons of oil? Millions? More? Whatever the case may be, in a few seconds it will all be gone. “Better hurry.”
The missiles make contact, the first few striking Nemesis’s back, doing her no damage, but setting the oil coating her on fire. The flames streak down her back, but will they reach the refinery before she reaches the ocean?
I root for her, hoping she’ll make it three more long steps to the water before the fire streaking down her back reaches the ground. And then, in a flash, it doesn’t matter. A missile strikes and breaches one of the bright orange membranes, unleashing a force equivalent to a small nuclear strike. I catch a glimpse of light, Nemesis sprawling sideways, the oil refinery going up at once, and then, as quick as I can snap my fingers, it all shrinks away, growing smaller, and then dimmer, until there’s nothing left but darkness and the sweet relief of unconsciousness.
32
My senses return slowly, starting as a prickling in my toes and working upward as the blood flow in my body normalizes. The pins and needles stabbing my limbs wakes my mind. I open my eyes to a view of what used to be El Segundo and Manhattan Beach. The area is a smoldering ruin. A two-mile-wide black circle of earth surrounds the decimated refinery, of which there is now no trace. At the fringe of the circle is an ever-widening ring of fire, eating through neighborhoods, fueled by the ocean breeze.
I turn my attention to the now-glass beach just beyond the refinery. The burned black circle ends at the water, which is slick with burning oil, but nothing else.
“She’s gone,” Endo says.
I turn to find him sitting beside me in the cockpit. A glance back reveals Silhouette in the back, buckled in, gagged and bound at the wrists and ankles. Despite being stripped of his uniform, dressed only in black boxer briefs and a black T-shirt, he’s sitting calmly. Biding his time.
Endo glances back. “We can’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust you.” I look at the others. Hawkins and Collins are starting to stir. Lilly and the janitor are out cold. Maigo is wide awake, looking past us, out the front window. “Maigo.”
Her eyes snap toward me.
“You okay?”