Far away in a war room in the country’s capitol, generals seized with this inexplicable, overriding fear gave the order that nuclear missiles – along with dozens of other rockets – were to be launched in Henry Kyllo’s direction. But that order was moot, since the personnel who turned the keys to launch the missiles had already done so.
And it was the same in as many other countries as were in range.
Humanity acted as one organism under threat of extinction, throwing everything it had at the enemy. A colossal worldwide Hail Mary to try to save itself from eradication.
* * *
Adelina Palermo walked through the dark of the old subway tunnel until she heard the crash of the train ploughing into Henry. She found the tunnel joining the old subway line with the new one, and headed down it.
Behind her, with no light source to help them, Marcton, Cleve, and Kendul simply followed Adelina’s footsteps, watched for any shifting movements in the darkness that might reveal her changing direction.
When the sound of the crash reached them, rumbling through the walls, they picked up their pace, hearts in their throats – even though somewhere deep down, they knew they were running toward a lost battle.
The chaos aboveground had, to their minds, dwarfed their petty little revenge drama immeasurably. It seemed shockingly minor in the face of what was happening. All three men felt that this wasn’t even about the Inferne Cutis any more – perhaps had never really been about them.
But still they plodded on.
Just grist for whatever new mill was starting up aboveground, Kendul thought, and shivered.
Adelina and the men emerged from the side tunnel joining the subway lines, and saw the destruction Henry had caused. By the time they arrived, only Henry’s legs were visible, his upper portion having already burst through to the street above. They heard cars crashing. Sirens. Bombs. People were falling down through the hole Henry had created. Breaking their arms and legs from the fall. Bleeding. Dying.
Though she could not cry outwardly, internally, Adelina wept for her father. She wept for whatever was happening to the world above. She wept because she knew how this would end, had seen it in her mind well before events had progressed to this point, but was powerless to stop it, or even fully believe it could happen.
The possibility that she had, in fact, been one of the catalysts for it was something she consciously blotted out. There was no reserve of calm left in her body. What little of herself remained was focused solely on fighting whatever was taking her over inside. It wanted her to help Henry by leaving him alone. She had done her job, had kept Milo in the picture, which in turn helped keep Henry in the picture, away from prying eyes so that he could mature. Grow into exactly what he’d become.
She fought hard against what was inside her, even though she knew her efforts would amount to absolutely nothing of note. That nothing would change, no matter what she did.
As bombs burst above, tanks rolled down the street, firing on Henry. Helicopters and planes shot at him. People attacked with nothing more than balled-up fists.
Adelina strode toward Henry as quickly as her legs would take her.
Faye and Milo flattened themselves against a nearby wall, tried to hide from her sight as best they could. Adelina stormed right past, reached up, grabbed hold of Henry’s waist and tugged down as hard as she could, eventually securing a strong enough grip to pull him back down. Once his head and arms were mostly underground again, Adelina used all her strength to throw him down the tunnel. He flew headfirst about fifty feet, turned in the air, landed on his back, skidded another twenty feet, then stopped.
People and vehicles began to stream down the hole like lemmings off a cliff.
Milo and Faye ran away from the hole, toward Henry.
Henry sat up, looked at Adelina. When their eyes met, something incredible happened – something neither of them thought could happen, not any more. They genuinely felt something. Something of themselves – the selves they’d given up, the selves they’d relinquished. Some kind of empathy, perhaps. Recognition. A strange kinship that neither of them understood. A feeling that no others on Earth have had, nor would ever have again. Something singular.
Adelina Palermo saw the apology in Henry Kyllo’s eyes, and Henry saw and understood the pain, rage, and confusion in Adelina’s. Forgiveness passed between them then.
The last of Adelina was snuffed out at that precise moment.
Milo felt her go, feeling as though he’d lost something he’d never really had to begin with. It was a hollow ache, like the hole where a pulled tooth used to sit. He didn’t feel sad, exactly; he just felt a sort of slow, unnamable crumbling in his heart.
Henry was fully aware now that whatever he’d be battling, it was not Adelina. It was not that girl. It was not that woman. It was no aspect of anything he understood, or could ever understand. It was simply Other now – more Other than the world had even known.