Total Eclipse

“David’s more cheerleader right now than suited up to play, but that’s better than nothing.” I swallowed and clutched the phone tighter. “We almost didn’t make it, Lewis. I thought I was going to lose him.”

“I’m pretty sure he thought the same about you. But I knew you’d come through. You always do.” He let a second pass, then changed the subject. “I need you to do something for us.”

“Ready.” I already knew it wouldn’t be picking flowers, or even something easy that a lower- level Warden would do. He saved the worst jobs for his best people.

“I need you to distract the attention of the Djinn. I need something big, spectacular, and damaging that they’ll have to deal with directly. Do you think you can do that?”

My mouth went dry, and I sipped more water before I could answer. “What are we talking about, Lewis?”

“We need to hit her back,” he said. “We’re playing defense, Jo, and we’re getting slaughtered. Get her attention, pull her to your location, and the Djinn will follow. We’ll head toward you as fast as we possibly can. You won’t be alone.”

Actually, I would be, and he knew it. The Wardens could only travel so fast, and the Djinn could be anywhere they wanted, when they wanted. Not even close to a race.

He was asking me to do something that would make a significant sting to the Earth, and then he was asking me to stand still while the Djinn came to destroy me.

There was a name for that: suicide bomber. And me, sitting here next to a plant chock full of plutonium, uranium, and nuclear weapons. I could do the math, and the math divided by zero.

“Lewis,” I said slowly. “You understand what you’re asking me to do?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Believe me, I do understand. But they’re targeting our Warden network, and it’s folding. Once that’s broken, things will get worse again, very fast, and there’ll be nothing we can do to stop it. We’ve got only about another day, Jo, before they destroy every Warden on the planet. After that, it won’t even be a week before humanity is purged down to almost nothing. It’s extinction. This is the best move we have.”

“And better me than you,” I said. “I don’t mean that in a cruel way. The Wardens need a leader, and you’ve got us this far. I understand that you need to go on.” I gulped in an unsteady breath. “I don’t. I get it.”

“Jo . . .” There was so much torment in that one whisper, so much horror and frustration, that I wanted to reach through the phone and hold him, this man who was sending me to my death. “Only somebody of your quality could do this in the first place, and minimize loss of life. You’re my only choice. I wish it was—” His voice failed, broken, and all I heard was harsh, uneven breathing as he tried to get hold of himself again.

I felt a wave of resentment pass over me. How many times? How many times do I have to be the one who gives? It was a valid question. I’d worked my ass off for the Wardens, I’d saved them time and time again. Why did it have to be me, again?

One thing about waves: they pass. The emotion peaked, then receded, and in its wake I felt . . . calm. Oddly centered.

“I’ll get them here,” I said. “I’ll hold them here as long as I can. Lewis?”

“Yeah?” His voice was low and husky, choked with what he couldn’t say.

“Make it worth it.”

“No pressure.” There—some of his usual dark humor was back in place, armor against the world. I laughed.

“No pressure,” I assured him, and just before I pressed the END CALL button, I whispered, “I always loved you, just a little bit. Bye.”

I cut the signal before I could hear his response, if he could have managed to make one. I didn’t think David would have objected to me saying that. It was true, and it was the last chance I’d have to make that particular statement count.

Silence. I listened to the wind, which was blowing in from the north, bringing the bitter taste of sand out of Oklahoma. Red dust, filming the horizon. The sun was a fierce, hard ball in the sky, heading west, dropping on its predetermined course without any thought at all for whatever happened here on this complicated little oasis of life. I’d always wondered if other planets had some kind of vast awareness, too; maybe Earth got into neighborhood scraps with Venus and Mars, or yelling matches with big bully Jupiter. Maybe the sun had its own voice, its own life. Maybe the entire universe was alive with life, in forms we couldn’t recognize because we were too limited in our sight.

I finished my water, closed my eyes, and thought about God. My mother was a church-going woman, and I had grown up in Sunday school and after-school programs. It hadn’t damaged me, but it hadn’t altogether satisfied me, either. I wanted to know answers, and religion expected me to have faith.

Maybe religion had been right, and the answers were too vast, too complex, and too hard for me to begin to grasp, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stop trying.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please understand who we are, what we’ve achieved. How far we’ve come. How far we have to go. Please tell her to stop. Please listen to your children.”

If God didn’t stop her, I didn’t think the Wardens could, but I had to give them a fighting chance. Even if it meant doing something terrible. Something that I would never do under different circumstances.

I heard the car coming up the road—I’d know that throaty growl anywhere. I stood up, hoisted my pack, and looked around at the barricade.

The fire ants were swarming in a thick, unsettling sheet over the invisible shield, grimly determined to find something soft to kill. I also saw rattlesnakes, and somewhere beyond, a coyote paced, watching me with ravenous eyes. Overhead, birds circled, and as I looked up, a thermal-riding red-tailed hawk spilled air from its wings and began a smooth attack glide, clawed feet ready to slice.

I didn’t want to see him crash into the barrier; it would probably kill him at that speed. Instead, I heated a column of air and he flew right into it, lost control of his glide, and had to swing out and flap to regain altitude. Confused, he climbed again.

If only it was that easy all the time.

The Mustang pulled to a halt on the road, and the Djinn opened the passenger side with a wave of his hand. I took a second to think and ready myself, then dropped the barriers.

I felt the anger, then, the furious and baffled rage of the Earth. The ants collapsed in a wave as the barrier fell, and swarmed toward me from all sides. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled power out of the ground and jumped from a standing position to an area outside the swarms, and hit the ground running.

Behind me, I heard the coyote howl, and heard his jaws snap on air. Damn, he was close. I could outrun the ants and snakes, but that coyote . . .

His teeth sank into my calf. It felt like I’d been stabbed and squeezed in a vise at the same time, and I yelped and went down as his weight dragged me off balance. He was snarling, teeth locked into muscle, and shook his head to try to cause maximum damage. I reached for Earth power and flung a raw handful at him; it hit him like pepper spray, and he let go with a startled yelp, dancing backward as I lurched to my feet.

Ten more feet to the car.

A rattlesnake struck at me without any noisy warning. He was concealed in the shadow between the black- top and the dirt, and there was no way I could be fast enough to dodge; by the time I spotted his movement, he was already there, sinking his fangs into my arm. Jesus, that hurt. I grabbed the snake and pulled him off, flinging him as far as panic would allow, and kicked back at the coyote as he tried another grab for my calf. I got him far enough away that I dove forward, landed belly down on the seat, and scrambled to shut the door behind me.

The coyote got his head and shoulders in the way and lunged, snarling. I smacked him with my fist on the nose, and he backed up, shocked and hurt, just enough for me to get the door shut.

David’s voice was coming out of the radio, but it was just noise right now.

“Go!” I yelled. The Djinn floored it, and we left the angry delegation from Animal Planet behind.

I immediately turned my attention to the snakebite, which was going to be much worse than the coyote’s damage to my leg. Neither attack had hit any blood vessels, at least. The snake’s venom hadn’t found its way into my circulatory system yet, but it would soon if I didn’t slow it down—now. I kept the arm down, below heart level. The pain of the bite was bad, but it was definitely going to get worse; the area around the fang marks was already swelling and discoloring in shades of angry red and mottled white. In terms of bite intensity, probably a three or a