Critical Path

Denver paused for a moment, bringing his finger back to the trigger, but Layla stepped in the way, causing him to raise the rifle clear and free. He stood up and joined the others.

“Where’s the alien?” Khan asked as he looked at the tanks. It was pretty damned obvious.

“Yes, Gregor, where is she?” Layla asked, getting close to him. “You killed her, didn’t you? You couldn’t keep your damned hands off her for one moment, could you! She was important to us, to finding Charlie.”

Sneering, Gregor looked past Layla at Denver. “I shouldn’t be the only one you’re pissed at. Little Den here ain’t so innocent. Isn’t that right, Jackson Jr?”

Layla turned to Denver. “What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing. Look at him, the fool’s off his face on root. We can’t trust a damned word he says.”

“Gregor!” Layla said. “Tell me what happened. What did you do to her?”

Turning on Layla, pointing the glowing end of his cigar toward her, he shouted back, “You want to preserve the fucking aliens again, eh? What side you on, Layla? One minute you’re helping the bastards farm humans, the next you’re rebelling against them, and now you’re back defending them. You should be siding with us, damnit.”

As he jabbed the cigar in her direction, the glowing tip struck her in the face, burning her just below her eye. She screamed and turned away, clutching the burn with her hands.

Denver exploded forward.

He dropped the rifle and pulled his right arm back, ready to deliver a right hook to Gregor’s face.

The older man, high on root, saw it coming, though, and managed to sidestep out of the way. He bundled Maria over as he dodged Denver’s attack. Khan reached out to help Maria out of the way as the two men tangled and wrestled to the ground.

Gregor managed to get the upper hand, driving Denver’s back onto the tanks. The impact winded the younger man as Gregor reached for his head and tried to push him into the fire.

The heat burned Denver’s face as he fought against Gregor’s root-enhanced strength. His eyes felt like they were melting in the heat. Gregor screamed with effort, but Denver wasn’t yet done.

Feeling stronger from drinking Khan’s tea, he managed to twist away, breaking the older man’s grip.

Denver slipped out from beneath, got to his feet, and lashed out a kick to the Armenian’s exposed ribs. Gregor curled into a ball with the impact but held onto Denver’s foot and twisted, trying to snap his ankle.

Grabbing his knife from his belt, Denver fell onto Gregor, bringing the point to his throat. But Khan had grabbed him by the shoulders as Layla and Maria tried to hold Gregor down.

“Stop it!” Layla screamed.

“What did you do with Venrick?” Khan asked.

“Venrick?” the alien said, finally speaking. The words stopped everyone as they all turned toward it.

Denver let Khan lift him off Gregor.

Stalking closer, Denver approached the alien. “You’ve got something to say now, eh?”

“Venrick… my… sister.”

Gregor grabbed the knife from Denver’s hand and brought it to the alien’s throat where the air tubes entered its system. “You better start speaking. Tell us everything you know unless you want to join your sister in whatever Godforsaken afterlife you scumbags believe in.”

Under Gregor’s continued threats, the alien told them everything they wanted.

After twenty minutes of questioning, Gregor turned to the others.

“That’s how you get information from these bastards. Pack up; we’ve got a house party to go to. Oh, and, Den, thanks for the blade. I think I’ll keep this for when we meet up with your old man.”

Khan and Layla grabbed him before he could react, but he just sneered at Gregor, satisfied to leave his comeuppance for another day.

At the very least, they knew Charlie was still alive and where the aliens kept him.

“I’ll enjoy ending your miserable life,” Denver said.

“Likewise, Junior.”

With that, Denver turned his back and prepared to leave.

He’d given everyone enough time to rest and do things their way. From this point on, it was his show regardless of who wanted to go with him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Two hours passed. Charlie peered out of the cell, hoping Aimee would return. He decided to go with her and at least hear Hagellan out. Since she left, he couldn’t get the image of Earth exploding and shattering out of his head.

The alternative appeared bleak, but Aimee probably knew it and guessed he’d figure it out too. Augustus would find out about her visit as soon as he got back from his meetings. Things might advance at a swift rate from there, and not in Charlie’s favor. He’d be dragged to the arena or murdered by Augustus’ cronies. If that happened, there would be no bomb, no second chance.

Somebody thumped the gate three times. A guard slid across a large iron bolt, pushed the gate ajar and looked through the gap. Aimee hustled past him, wearing a full-length, brown monk’s robe with a black woven rope belt secured around her waist. A croatoan followed her, rifle slung, carrying a bundle of brown clothing.

“Open the cell,” she said.