Worlds War One

xix [Treyvon]

The other soldiers in basic training had looked at him sideways every night when Treyvon Fox went down on his knees and bowed his head. He had been doing it ever since his father had knelt beside him when Trey was barely old enough to make a word. His father said that Trey's second word was "Amen." His first was "Mama." Trey had wondered if those were the two words that mattered most—the beginning and the end. But then he'd realized the most important things happened between the two.

One night, another trainee pilot had asked him why he prayed.

"I give thanks for the wonders of the day."

"Weren't nothin' wonderful about that hotdish they served up in the mess."

"But there's something. Every day."

Every day. Trey gave thanks. Even after the killing, after the mission that had made him doubt if a soldier of God could be a soldier of America, he'd still gone down on his knees and bowed his head. There had still been something extraordinary—every day. Even the day his mama had died, he'd thanked the Lord for the twenty years he'd had her. There were many, many wonders in this world, thank you, Jesus.

Now the horror came from the shadows, reaching out for his face, and Trey was sure if he lived long enough to get down and pray tonight, he would thank God he still had a head to bow. Trey paused with the SIG-Sauer P320clutched in his hand and aimed at the thing fluttering from the darkness. He would not be the first one to shoot. Even if Trey saved himself by filling this foul fowl with a loose bullet, Lieutenant Robinson would gun him down for insubordination. He would rather die a hero than a disobedient soldier.

"Stop, or I'll cut your gullet and let you bleed out all over this Godforsaken nest," came a threat.

The figure in feathers, black pinions blending with the shadows inside this horrible place, stopped. The lieutenant had her Bowie knife with the green incandescent blade pressed against the neck of Trey's attacker. Airman Fox was face to face with the monstrosity, the cloak covering whatever the thing had for a head. He couldn't see past the shadows beneath the hood. Maybe that was what Trey would be thankful for tonight—that he couldn't see its face.

"That knife does not belong here," the Bird of Paradise cawed.

"It's going to stay unsheathed until we get what we came for."

"It is not of this world."

"We brought weapons in proportion to the threat," Saanvi said, stepping between Robinson and the attacking bird. The lieutenant backed off with the blade still pointed at the bird. "We will face Johnny Rotten to protect the rest of the Wider World. To do that, we need the Key. Therefore, we're not going to leave without the Key."

The Bird of Paradise clucked, a guttural sound like something clearing its throat. Reaching its hand, the creature took the mask and twisted it aside. Trey wanted to look away, but the bird was still in his face, too close. The Bird of Paradise pulled down the hood, and Trey squinted, ready to see something that might give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

But it was a she.

Human.

And as beautiful a woman as Trey had ever seen.

"You're no monster," Ji exclaimed, surprised.

"You need to get to know her, Seaman Choi," Saanvi warned. "I assure you, she is despicable."

"You still judge based on appearances, soldier?" the gorgeous Bird of Paradise chirped. "You should have learned by now that all is not what it seems."

"You're only Human," Quest said.

"Only?" the bird replied. "Humans are uniquely qualified to protect Artifacts. We have none of the self-righteous piety of other tribes and yet retain an appreciation for duty over loyalty."

"Does that mean you would turn on one of your Flock to serve your agenda?" Lieutenant Robinson asked, her blade still bared.

"It means our loyalty to the mission supersedes our commitment to one another. Humans have the willingness to sacrifice for the greater good. Other entities would never betray their own to preserve the Key. Humans would."

Trey knew there was only one way this was ever going to go. The Flock would die before they gave up the Key. Thus, the Flock will die.

Shadows shuffled all around them. The Birds appeared out of the darkness from every direction. Trey still had his finger on the trigger of his handgun. He checked with the lieutenant. She nodded. Three Misfits all let loose at once, a split second after Lieutenant Robinson slid her blade across the neck of the first of the Flock. The beautiful Human was dead in an instant. Treyvon squeezed off three shots in quick succession, all slugs aimed right at the center of one of the black-feathered attackers. Quest used his pistol and took each shot with precision, making every one of the rounds count, then drawing his knife with the green blade to fend off his foes as the Flock continued to attack. Ji managed two shots from the hip with his own SIG-Sauer before the close quarters prevented ammunition, at which time he resorted to the Bowie knife hooked to his belt. Trey, without hesitation, found another target and stabbed at the shadows as they fluttered nearer. He sliced at the enemy with long, deep cuts.

The feathers acted as some sort of armor, protecting the Flock from the initial damage of the attacks. But the Misfits had seen the lieutenant find success at the neck, so the soldiers adjusted their attacks to the vulnerable part of the Birds. The attackers used talons made of titanium and sharpened like razors to hack at the soldiers, but the military had trained the soldiers well, and they deftly dodged the assault. Birds began to fall—five, ten, twenty. The soldiers were like hunters bagging their limit and not stopping. Feathers fell. The Misfits did not relent.

Then the chaos subsided. Ji and Quest were on Trey's left and right. Badia Robinson stood alone, a half-dozen dead Birds at her feet. Saanvi stood across the dark room. Trey thought he had noticed something else about her appearance for a moment. Horns? A forked tail? For a split second, he thought he saw the devil herself. Then it was Saanvi again, standing over the body of the lead Bird of Paradise. The big bird. Dead.

"The Key," she said, holding out a length of iron that resembled something out of an old haunted house story. "Let's go."

The outside wasn't any saner than the inside. Callie and Drill held a defensive position behind a felled cedar tree. Birds fluttered in the shadows beyond the Cathedral, the two soldiers picking off fowl like two talented hunters. Lieutenant Robinson ordered an evacuation, and the squad provided cover for an exit. One of the Flock fluttered forth in chase for another half a klick, then nothing.

Did the Birds give up, or had the Misfits killed every last one of the Flock?

Mission accomplished. No casualties among the squad. Key appropriated. Extrication was successful.

No casualties... for the Misfits. How many of the Flock died? Two dozens? More? It had been a massacre. And they were Human under the masks. People. They were trying to defend the Key. Trey's mission was to steal, and the Birds' purpose was to protect. They'd died doing their duty. Were they an evil enemy? A despicable foe on a dangerous jihad? Antagonists plotting harm to America? Or simply guards defending a sacred object with their very lives? For that, Trey had killed them. The soldiers had killed them all.

"I give thanks for the wonders of the day."

"Weren't nothin' wonderful about that hotdish they served up in the mess."

"But there's something. Every day."

But maybe not today.