The Rising(38)

The Tracker flailed wildly, struggling to pry what must’ve felt like icy rubber from his windpipe. He sank to his knees and keeled over face-first, with his hands trying to wedge their way between it and his skin. Then Raiff lashed it sideways, catching the legs of the Tracker who’d tripped over the stool and yanking violently. The man’s feet came out from under him and the back of his skull broke his plunge to the floor.

Raiff retracted the whip back into stick form, seeing no need to kill this Tracker or the others still crumpled on the floor. The force behind them had an army committed to the destruction of the Guardians and Watchers, so killing these four would make little dent in that army’s ultimate capabilities. Sparing their lives ensured they would talk, stoke fear and hesitance into the hearts of other Trackers who would follow them into this undeclared war that had so complicated the Guardians’ plight.

Because the Guardians had two enemies to contend with, one of which was committed to the Guardians’ demise while the other sought to destroy this world as it existed today. Stopping the latter from happening formed the true mission of the Guardians, a mission that just moments earlier had reached its own level of desperation.

THE DANCER’S IN THE LIGHT

Which meant, Raiff thought as he slipped the stick back into his belt, the only real hope mankind had for its survival was in grave danger himself.

Because the real enemy must’ve found the boy at last.

Raiff stepped back to the bar and finished his drink, then stepped over three of the four Trackers he’d dropped en route to the door, needing to find Dancer before more of them did.





37

THE SCENT

“IS SOMETHING WRONG, SIR?” Rathman asked, watching Marsh turn away after reading the contents of his latest incoming message.

Marsh clipped the phone back on his belt, containing his anger over the brief message from his team in the field that minutes earlier had reported a hit. Now they were reporting mission failure with casualties.

“How do you feel about failure, Colonel?” he asked Rathman.

“It’s unacceptable under any circumstances. I don’t think about the successes very long. I never stop thinking about the failures.”

Something about those words relaxed the tension Marsh was feeling. “It would appear I’ve chosen well.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet, sir.”

“Yes, you have, because you’ve done everything else. I’ve seen your file, Colonel, the parts of it known only to a very select few. You’ve taken on some pretty bad hombres, some of the worst anywhere, through the course of your career in special ops.”

“True enough, sir,” Rathman agreed.

“But you haven’t come up against the very worst yet, the most threatening, not by a long shot. That’s why you decided to sign on before we even met, before you even knew what we’re facing. For the challenge, a true challenge.”

“These Zarim,” the big man started, his bald head looking shiny under the harsh lighting of Marsh’s Memory Room.

“What about them?”

“I believe you said they appear exactly as we do.”

“I suggested it, yes.”

“So how do you track them down, take them out?”

“An excellent question, the answer to which was a long time coming,” Marsh explained. “Occasionally, we’ve been able to take them prisoner. Not often, and when we do they never talk about their origins, purpose, or mission. But we’ve still learned from them, learned plenty. Autopsies, and other scientific analysis have revealed them to be anatomically identical to us in all respects. We still haven’t determined if this is the Zarim’s actual appearance or a disguise they’re able to utilize in order to infiltrate our species toward eventual assimilation.”

“Assimilation?”

“A polite way of saying they’re out to conquer our world. But I digress. Getting back to your question, our researchers have managed to isolate the one primary factor that distinguishes them from us. You know all humans give off radiation.”

“I knew we gave off electricity.”

“Same thing in this case. Call it electromagnetic radiation, also known as thermal, or infrared, radiation. Thermal radiation only transports heat and indicates the temperature of its source. Different people at different times give off differing amounts of radiation. But these differences just indicate who is hotter, and not who is fatter, taller, sadder, or more saintly. Thermal images of a person captured using an infrared camera provide the temperature of the person’s skin.

“What we’ve done,” Marsh continued, getting to the point when he saw Rathman’s eyes drifting, “is take the principle of this infrared camera one step further. The Zarim, Colonel, give off electromagnetic radiation within a different, a higher bandwidth. Not very dramatic, but pronounced enough to be distinct and detectable to the cameras we’ve constructed. And they’re not so much cameras as sensing devices programmed to alert our Tracker teams in the event the presence of one is identified in the immediate proximity.”

“I’m picturing men driving in trucks with mini-satellite dishes on top.”

Marsh smiled tightly. “It sounds like you’ve seen them.”

“Have I, sir?”

“In all probability, yes. Everyone has. But our vans are always concealed in the guise of delivery, maintenance, or local cable vehicles.”