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Chapter 85

  REVENANT

  The metal door slides shut behind me, cloaking the chamber in darkness.

  I scan the room using my night vision. There are bodies—almost a dozen of them—laid out in uniform rows on their backs, arms crossed over their chests, eyes closed. My eyes flit between each one, examining their faces. I keep waiting for them to move, to rise, to be something other than what they are. As I examine each one in turn, every breath I take plumes in front of my face, as if to emphasize the difference between me and the corpses laid out before me.

  It's frigid in here, as it should be. I can hear the old cooling components, puttering feverishly. The white noise from the fans flare in intensity as the machinery makes up for the cold air I’d let out of the room upon my entrance.

  My allies, my friends, my comrades, my brothers-in-arms. How could this happen—for them to die in such a way, with such thoughtless banality? To die, not as warriors, but as sleeping babes, smothered in their cribs?

  I promised them the future. I promised them the world. And this is what they got instead.

  It's too late to apologize. It's too late to make amends for my mistakes, not in any meaningful way. Whatever meaning there is in life, death takes it away, crushes it into a fine powder that dissipates into the atmosphere, blown away on the desert winds, never again to be remarked upon.

  That is, if nature has its way. But why should it? Why should I let that happen?

  Echo was right to preserve the remains. In the same way that he discovered a means for human immortality, he will surely find a way for these warriors to rise once again, even if it takes a thousand years, or ten thousand. I’ll make sure it happens.

  Death will never have its final say.

  The facility vibrates under my feet, rumbling with the distant echo of various mechanisms throughout the facility shifting, and latching, and locking, and sealing, and disconnecting. The Super Fortress is detaching, preparing to leave this hole in the ground and take to the sky.

  Something shifts in the shadows next to me. A figure, turning to look sidelong at me. It’s me—a different version of me, a past iteration. A whole other person. A whole other life.

  As he peers at me, he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and puts his hands in his jean pockets, smooth and cool as can be.

  “I’m not going to let you do this,” he says, calmly. “You know that, right?”

  I return his sidelong look. “That’s right. You’re the hero of this story, aren’t you? A savior of the people. I’m sure Sal would be so proud.”

  His face falls, but his eyes are still defiant. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “Really? Because if I was there, it wouldn’t have happened. And we both know it. Do you even know anything about her, Silas? Do you have any concept of who it was you failed to protect?”

  “I know that she believed in me.”

  “And look how her faith was rewarded. You're lucky I'm tagging in for you. The entire human race is lucky.”

  “As if it's going to be the human race anymore once you're done with it. You're not actually going to give them a choice, are you? You’re going to perform the operation whether they consent to it or not. You and Eren Yaeger."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I have to dig back, through decades of memory archives, to understand the reference.

  He’s talking about the hair. Echo’s long, straight, dark hair. What a superficial detail to latch on to. What a childish lens through which to perceive reality.

  How immature I was back then. New and unformed. I had no real, novel experiences of my own. I could only draw from the media I consumed, referencing other people’s imagined experiences in order to understand the world around me.

  Now, I don’t need to draw from science fiction tales. I’ve been living in one for decades. It’s made me who I am. I am the product of my nightmarish environment. I am what I always needed to be.

  “You say that as if human beings are capable of looking out for their own interests," I say. "They move in mindless herds like cattle. They have no vision, no perspective. I can give them direction. I can save them."

  “From what?”

  “Why, death, of course. That monster, death. I’m going to kill it.”

  Silas doesn’t say anything. He seems thoughtful. Doubtful.

  “You haven't seen the things that I've seen,” I say. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. The things you did, even if you don’t remember them. There’s still so much we have to atone for. And we’re not going to be able to do it here, on this rock.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to give up? You’re going to let this thing ‘SERAPHIM’ win?”

  “Oh, SERAPHIM already won. A long time ago. And I’m going to have my vengeance for that. But there’s no undoing the past. There is only the future. And you’re not it.”

  I start to turn away.

  "Blast," Silas says, catching my attention. "Sal... she didn't call me Revenant or Rev. She called me Blast. It's almost as if, when we went to sleep, I was the one who was supposed to wake up. Not you."

  I turn my back on him, clenching my jaw. "Speculate all you want. It won't change anything."

  With one last look at the bodies arrayed on the floor, I head toward the door.

  "Revenant," Silas says, making me hesitate. "What is she anyway? Shiloh, I mean."

  I frown. I close my eyes. But then the memories threaten to well up, haunting me in the darkness behind my lids. I open them.

  "It doesn't matter. Not to you."

  I head out into the corridor, letting the door slide shut behind me, leaving the ghost-like presence of Silas behind. Gone but not forgotten. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

  Silas’ presence shouldn’t be this strong. In fact, he shouldn’t exist at all. He’s nothing more than a memory artifact. A glitch. Albeit, an intentional one. The real question is who intended it. One that I doubt I’ll be able to answer anytime soon.

  Silas is right about one thing; there’s a high probability that Salvo had something to do with it. As much as I don’t want to believe it. It would be a betrayal. You’d think I’d be used to them by now. Perhaps it was weakness, the fact that I was willing to let her into the fold and cooperate with her. A desire to return to some semblance of what my life used to be.

  As I already told Silas, there’s no undoing the past. A lesson I’m still learning, apparently.

  As I walk down the winding, dimly lit hallway, there’s a blip in my OS, informing me of an incoming call from Echo.

  I answer it.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Echo says.

  “What kind of problem?”

  “An Artifice problem.”

  It’s enough to make me freeze in my tracks. “Already?”

  “You should head to the roof. I think you should see for yourself.”

  I take one step. Then stop.

  “Nice try, Artifice.”

  There's a long silence—too long. Long enough that I almost begin to doubt myself.

  Then a chuckle, one I recognize well.

  "You have to admit, it was worth a try,” Artifice says. “Just to see the look on your face. But it seems like you picked up on it right away. Bravo, Silas. Bravo."

  "Not Silas," I say. “It’s Revenant, now.”

  "Oh? This is an interesting turn of events.”

  She doesn’t seem intimidated. Not a great sign. Then again, it’s Artifice.

  “You’re jamming and intercepting the signal. But it’s encrypted.”

  "Oh, my sweet darling, you've been away for a long time, I'm afraid, and the world has moved on without you. While you were napping, I was hard at work developing new technologies, writing new jailbreak protocols. I’m something of a hacker extraordinaire, you know. Your friend can't exactly protect the ship’s computer against something he doesn't know exists, can he?

  "Speaking of, who is our mutual friend? Is it Echo? I do want to believe it's Echo. It might make this a little more interesting."

  "About that. You're early. To the party, that is. We’re still setting things up for you.”

  "Revenant, I am the party, and don't you forget it."

  Cutting off the transmission, I take off at a run in the direction of the access elevator—the one that leads to the roof. Yes, I need to go up there. Not at the precise moment that Artifice wishes I would. But I do have to go up there. I have to be able to assess the situation. I’m completely blind down here.

  As I run, a shockwave hits the facility, causing the floor to jutter underneath me. And then the roar of the engines, the rockets initiating takeoff. The lifting sensation of being inside a massive elevator.

  It's time.

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