screamed and tried to shake it off, but it increased in weight and ferocity. Suddenly it shoved him to his knees. His head slammed against the ground. His back arched and the greasy hand slid inside the back of his head with an explosion of pain so great his jaws couldn’t make any sound.
Then his universe exploded like a sheet of black glass and fell away.
At that moment he could understand the voices. They’d been telling him to run. They’d been telling him to get far away. Most were sorry that he’d joined their ranks. But there were some who were happy to have his company. Locked inside the limitless mind of the grave demon, they were eager to live again. Jack represented a newness they could eat and consume, and they would take his memories and make them their own until there was nothing left of little Jackie Walker or until eternity burned away.
25
STARLIFTER. OVER THE PACIFIC OCEAN.
The peregrination back home had been one of tired solemnity. Fratolilio was laid in state in the middle of the Starlifter that had picked them up from Guam. It had taken six hours for the submarine that had recovered them to rendezvous with the aircraft carrier USS
Signal officers aboard the
Only the team and a few drunken revelers from the cruise ship knew the truth. One report of masked hockey players with a dog attacking the ship made it through the Internet lockdown, but that would likely die the death of a thousand spams as soon as the world read it, then dismissed it as a mad tweet from a drunken cruise passenger.
No one was in much of a mood to talk. The mission had left them numb. The constant adrenaline surge required to stay alive would send any normal person into a coma-like recuperative state. Even the SEALs with their hypermetabolisms found themselves leaden and exhausted, unwilling and partially unable to relive and recount the events that had just transpired. The electrolytes and intravenous nutrition provided on both the submarine and the carrier helped greatly, but no man-made drugs could ever repair the hole in their hearts and their idea of self, represented succinctly by the man lying in the middle of the aircraft.
Still, Walker had a lot of thoughts working in his mind, not the least of which was the reality that there were creatures and forces out there that had an intent to harm his great Red, White, and Blue, if not the world. He’d been preparing to fight other men only to discover that he was now fighting creatures whose existence could only be foretold in myth and legend.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Laws. “How you doing, FNG?”
“I’m not an FNG anymore,” Walker said softly.
“Why is that?”
“My first mission is behind me.”
Laws nodded. “Normally that would be the case. But you see, you’re the FNG until someone new comes to replace Fratty. Whether it’s a day, month, or year … until that happens, you’re the FNG.”
“Who made up those rules?” Walker asked.
“The great god of FNGs.” Laws leaned back and closed his eyes. “Now get some shut-eye. No telling what’s going to happen when we land.”
Walker remained silent for a long while. His head rested on a pile of cargo netting. Finally he prodded Laws in the shoulder. “Is it always like this?”
Laws opened one eye. “What do you mean?”
“Going out and fighting creatures that aren’t supposed to exist. All in a day’s work, right?”
“We don’t always fight creatures. Sometimes it’s the usual type of monster … the human kind.”
“But fighting the creatures … the monsters are a pretty common trend with Triple Six, right?”
“Sure.” Laws yawned. “Now get some sleep.”
But Walker was too wired to sleep. “I’m so damn juiced, I feel like Superman. I feel like I could fly if given the chance.”
Laws opened both eyes and propped himself up on an elbow. “Batman. Not Superman. You want to feel like someone, feel like Batman.”
“What?”
“Superman is bullshit.”
“What?” Walker asked, drawing out the word. “Superman is bullshit? What the hell does that mean? He’s the most powerful superhero ever created.”
Laws shook his head. “Nah, I call bullshit on the Man of Steel. Look … he’s so powerful because of Earth’s yellow sun, right? He doesn’t even have to try, as soon as he landed here, he was all-powerful.”
“And Batman has no powers. He had to do everything himself. Okay. I see.”
“Do you? Because the folks at DC went miles trying to hide the obvious.”
“Okay, now you lost me. What is this
“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. You’re the one who couldn’t sleep and had to keep talking.” Laws paused, flashing a menacing grin. “And yes, ‘conspiracy’ is a good word. It’s simple. The fact is that Superman should be
Walker laughed softly as he imagined that version of Superman. “Okay, man. You gotta explain that one. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Okay. Look at Batman. He’s buff, right?”
Walker nodded.
“And why is that?”
“Like I said, because he works out.”
“Like U.S. Navy SEALs, right?”
“Right.”
“Great. But when Superman bench-presses a Cadillac, he doesn’t even break a sweat. It’s like picking up a bag of feathers. Would Batman be buff if he bench-pressed feathers? Because that’s essentially what Superman does every day.”
Walker thought about it. The stronger you were, the more you had to do to keep that strength. SEALs weren’t muscle mammoths, but they were in elite shape, much like Batman. They went for strength rather than size. He did know that if he didn’t keep up the exercise, he’d lose it faster than it took to gain.
Walker thought on this for a moment. “Holy shit, you’re totally right. Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about this?”
“Conspiracy,” Laws whispered. “Now sleep.”
Walker laughed, then turned over and forced himself to close his eyes. Soon he was dreaming of Batman as a U.S. Navy SEAL, embracing old Stumpy with the rest of them.
26
SPECIAL OPERATIONS HANGAR. CORONADO.
They landed at 1 P.M., taxiing down the runway beneath an overcast sky. The Starlifter rolled to a stop at the restricted end of the base, where a formation of SEALs stood waiting. No sooner was the ramp lowered than six of
