Worlds War One

xxxiii [Treyvon]

Treyvon Fox had seen blown-up bodies. In Afghanistan, his truck followed a transport that rolled over an IED. Some soldiers had to be identified by their dental records and pieces that might have belonged to any number of bodies. War in the field was dirty and ugly and grounded. That was why Trey preferred being in the air. Above the blood and guts, where the dead were dots Trey didn't have to connect. Enemy fire could still shoot Trey out of the sky, or he sometimes traded artillery with enemy aircraft. But even if he died, he died flying high in the sky.

Like a bird.

Or an Angel.

Ji was an Angel. Half. Trey wondered if it was the half that had been chewed off or burned away. Ji-Sung Choi had lost both arms and a leg. His left eye had melted out of its socket and bubbled like molten stew on his blistered face. Smoke rolled off him like the first cake his girlfriend, Aliyah, had tried to bake him on the first birthday after they'd started dating. The smell had been sweet and sick, and Trey had gagged.

"Don't you dare, soldier," Lieutenant Robinson commanded. "Pull it together. I need you. This man needs you."

She was kneeling over Ji on the side opposite Trey, herself sporting scars and burns, the cuff of her jacket still smoking from being on fire. She ignored her ailments. Her medi-pack was open, and she was applying gauze and ointments to Ji's multiple injuries. The lieutenant had slain a dragon! She's saved their lives and countless others. Now she was trying to keep her soldier out of death's hands. Trey could only manage not to puke.

"My God," Quest whispered, standing behind Trey. He had gone to check on Drill. Drill had checked out.

"God is gone, Private," Saanvi said, approaching. "And this is what becomes of Angels."

"We need to get him to a doctor," Lieutenant Robinson hissed at Saanvi. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

"There isn't a doctor that can save him, Badia," Saanvi said.

Lieutenant Robinson moved fast. Faster than the Demon could react. Their leader was on her feet with the tip of the Bowie blade, still slick with dragon's blood, pressed against Saanvi's throat before the princess could recoil. Saanvi might not have flinched anyway. She stood calm and collected as the terrifying soldier stared at her eye to eye.

"You brought this upon us," the lieutenant growled. "What did you do to those witches? They were willing to bring ruin to this entire city to exact vengeance. You did something to them. They retaliated. Seaman Choi is suffering for your transgressions."

"This is my fault," Saanvi confessed. "But there was no other way. We must travel through the Lost City. We need a navigator. We need a gateway to the Forsaken Land. It was unavoidable that I might encounter enemies here."

"And now a good soldier is going to die," Lieutenant Robinson said through gritted teeth.

"Good soldiers are going to die, Badia. But not because of my folly. Not today. A doctor can't save him. But a scientist can. We need to get him to Edgar's laboratory."

"Heeee won't," Penina declared.

"He wouldn't," Saanvi agreed. "Unless our Ghost figures out how to possess someone. Posthaste."

Autumn flickered in and out of view at the peripheral of the Misfits. She stared at Ji, tears running down her face, more and more every time she flickered back into phase. Trey recalled the lessons of his preacher father about the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Were there A'aninin in the Bible? Saanvi had said God was gone. Had she been telling the truth? Or was that two twists from the telling?

"I can try," Autumn promised.

"Let's get him up," Lieutenant Robinson said.

They moved Ji as gently as they could manage onto the jacket Trey had spread out beside the nephilim. Trey took a corner, Quest opposite him, Lieutenant Robinson catty-corner, and Penina in front of him. Lifting, they could transport him quickly and carefully. Drill could have moved Ji by himself, but now that the lieutenant was safe again, Drill had checked out of this reality. He stared off into the distance as if he was a blind man, refusing to see.

"Take him to Edgar's laboratory and see what you can get out of Autumn," Saanvi told Penina.

The Golem watched the Ghost pulse in and out of existence with every breath she took. Penina nodded. Autumn agreed.

"Where are you going?" Trey asked Saanvi.

"I have to get something," Saanvi said. "I'll meet you there."

Penina led the way as the squad carried the comatose soldier through the streets of the Lost City. The buildings changed as they passed from one neighborhood to another. The building materials became shining silver, polished steel, bolts exposed, practical design. Lots of glass. Lots of LED lights. Holograms floated in midair near every front facade, marking marketplaces, noting journal suppliers, mapping GPS providers, designating sign shops. The road changed from cobblestone to a translucent luminescent surface that featured streams of colors moving in different directions. Penina followed a river of red that led them through a winding route.

"Heeeere," the Golem said.

The laboratory appeared as antiseptic as every other building in this part of the city. It was like Trey had wandered into a science fair enlarged to the size of a New York City neighborhood. Every other structure featured a Leyden jar on its roof, crackling with electricity and sending sparks along wires tangled this way and that.

"Where is here?" Treyvon asked.

"This is the neighborhood where the Geeeeniiiii live," Penina explained. "They are a race of mad scientists. Inventors and discoverers. There have been manyyyy who have passed themselves off as Humans—Einstein, Da Vinciiii, Faraday."

"Mad scientists?" Quest checked as they carried Ji through front doors made of steel, shining rivets, and large locks making it look more vault and less welcoming. "Like Frankenstein mad scientist?"

"Exactlyyyy like that," Penina said, leading them into the vestibule, antiseptic and utilitarian.

Everything was smooth and metal and sterilized. Trey examined the distorted reflections in the polished silver surfaces surrounding them, and he hardly recognized what he saw. Everything was twisted. Contorted. Changed into something he could have never imagined.

A woman entered the room. She exhibited the demeanor of a servant. No matter how weird the world got, there would forever be the hired help. She was old and bent over in half, a hunched back making a hump between her shoulder blades. The woman peered up at the group who'd entered the laboratory without invitation.

"Penina Margolis," the old woman croaked. "I suppose you have an invitation."

"You know I do not, Madam Modo," Penina said. "This soldier neeeeeds help."

"Does this look like a hospital?" Madam Modo quipped, her aged face twisted into a snarl.

"Does heeee look like heeee neeeeeds medicine?" Penina fired back. "Heeee neeeeeds a Geeeenius."

"The doctor doesn't perform the kind of procedure you need to save this boy," Madam Modo replied. "You need to leave, or I will call the Cogs."

Then the door burst open behind them, and Saanvi entered with a sack slung over her shoulder, dripping a steady and ominous trail of red. "Tell Dr. Frankenstein that Princess Saanvi is here to see him."