For the third time, the unwavering spirit circled the air in search of his family. Smoke and blaze and battle cries reached high over the plagued city where he flew, but for all the Na'vi's success, he had none in locating Neytiri. Every few seconds, he attempted contact, but his mate's voice did not return. He needed a clue, something, anything to point the way. As he cursed his uselessness, an infamous shriek stole his attention. He peered down and witnessed a span of orange soaring below. The incredible wings rose, climbing closer to Toruk Makto till his feet practically brushed the leathery hide. Jake bunched his lips in relief, then whispered, "Thank you, Tsu'tey," before unlinking from his ikran and stepping onto the flying platform. The predator pealed in approval, but as soon as Jake reached for the antenna, the approval ended by way of a neck thrust that nearly knocked off the passenger.
"Whoa! Jeez! Okay, okay. I guess Toruk Makto is just a one-time thing, eh?" Jake looked back at his abandoned ikran growing smaller by the minute. "Hey, how am I going to get back? You want me to just trust you?" A roar vibrated his body, and the predator banked away from the thick of battle towards the cape. The flight felt long, and soon, the gargantuan border wall was coming into view. Jake was beginning to fear he was being led out of the city when the toruk opted to glide over a calm, blue-lit beach. "What the hell you bringing me here for?" He slapped the neck, trying to get the beast's attention, but over his shouts came a succession of sharp whistles—The father stopped protesting. As soon as the toruk landed, Jake jumped off and sped frantically over the sand, for there, standing in the water, was his daughter, Kiri.
The overjoyed and completely drenched girl was lifted into the air for a twirl. She was back in the water again when her father dropped to his knees, clutching her like the world was about to end. Gasping his sobs, Jake cradled his Kiwi, there, on that white shore.
"How? How?"
Kiri could barely sign the words, for she was trembling with such happiness.
He stroked her face, wanting to memorize her every feature while he still had the chance. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but there was no time—His mate was in trouble, and before he could offer aid, he had to see to his parental duty to the very end.
Jake took his daughter by the arm and ran for the lingering toruk. Without warning, he plucked her up and set her on the swarthy beast. "Kiri," he spoke with every ounce of breath. "Listen to me very carefully. You're good with animals—I need you to fly as far away from here as possible, okay?" She was bewildered and signed for him to climb aloft, but he shook his head. "They're after you, Kiri. You have to get out—don't look back." She would not stop shaking her head, so her father took her face in his hands and spoke firmly. "I can't go with you. I have to go help your mother, okay? You don't need me anymore, Baby. You have what it takes. You can do this." He backed away, proud to have brought her this far and, with a push of his arms, authorized the toruk to fly.
Kiri reached down, begging through distorted cries to not send her off like this, but her father would not take her hand; instead, he stepped back and let the distance between them widen. As her sight remained fixated on his shrinking image, she witnessed him open his palms, cross thumb over thumb and push a "V" formation heavenward.
Jake held up his sentiment down to the last precious second he had his daughter in view. Tears moved down his face, for he knew, in his heart, this was a final goodbye, a weight balanced by the blessing of having been the one lucky enough to see her off. Eventually, all he could make out was the fading toruk; and, from the churning water, a mighty sea creature breached triumphantly. When it fell back into the dark swells, the Last Shadow was gone.
"I love you."
Bringing a hand up to his throat that detoured briefly to wipe off a salt flow, Jake pressed his throat mic. |"Neteyam, do you copy?"|
|"I'm here, Father. Have you found Mother?"|
|"No. Listen, I need you to fly south over the unfinished buildings and pick me up on the beach by the cape."|
|"What happened to Bob?"|
|"No time to explain. Just come,"| he urged, for he didn't want to risk sharing what happened over the airwaves and compromise his daughter.
Neteyam separated from the action and hailed White Flower; however, as he set off, he heard the portentous hum of gunship engines coming alive, their resurrection being the harbinger to the searchlights, which began popping up sporadically, piercing the night with their waving arms. |"Father, the Skypeople are gaining strength!"|
|"Then issue a retreat."|
|"What about you?"|
|"I can hold tight. But hurry."|
Reluctantly, the prince doubled back and shouted at his brothers to abandon the fight and take to the air. Those left standing, staggered to their brethren swooping down for them and were grabbed aboard by their winged comrades.
Jake was pacing for a long while on the sands when a string of bangs, rolling over the horizon, confirmed to him the changing tides. Anxiously, he waited when the welcome sight of a white blur came zipping over the construction zone. |"I see you, Neteyam! Look to your left. I'm—"| He stopped, for he realized a WASP gunship was dogging his son's tail. |"Neteyam! Get out of here! You're being followed!"| he hollered into his mic, but the son wasn't going to abandon his mission. He dived to port and swooped over his father, plucking him up in White Flower's backwing talons.
|"Hang on!"| Neteyam warned and bulleted his ikran over the waters. The rider executed sharp lefts and hard rights, but the WASP was unshakeable.
Gunfire sailed past Jake, each round dangerously close. He swung about wildly but managed to work up his free hand. |"Drop me! I'm too heavy!"|
|"I can do this! I'm not letting go!"|
|"You have a better chance if you do!"| he shouted.
|"Sorry, Father, but in the words of your kind—"|
Jake was making all sorts of facial contortions from the turbulence but dared to laugh anyway. "Never known you to swear..."
"Mother said I was too lukewarm," remarked the warrior, staring dead ahead at the plasma storm.
The father's eyes scanned the targeting guns. "They're locking in on you!"
Neteyam immediately nosedived and followed the lethal swelling waves, just barely escaping the barrage of bullets that dotted the water. Popping spume burned his eyes as he careened fast through the salt sprays, deliberately chasing the danger striking the sea. A quick look back, and he spotted his enemy turning away—his risky decision paid off. Neteyam raised his right arm, hooting victoriously, when a burst of heaven cracked overhead. The startling clap rushed through his core and exited through every limb, leaving him to fly temporarily blind with a persistent ringing in his ears. He regained his lost grip on the harness and trusted himself to White Flower, and his seeing-eye banshee veered towards the safety of the cape. Brightness was dispelling from his stained eyes when he sighted, to his great joy, his mother standing on a bluff.
|"Father! I see Mother!"| he cheered despite not being able to hear himself. With a loud holler, Neteyam caught her eyes, then quickly signed, "Take to your ikran! We must fly!"
Breaking into a run, Neytiri warbled for Snatanhì and flew after her son.
Elsewhere, on the north side of the cove, a recombinant breached. He gasped for air, paddling with one arm while using the other to keep his unconscious teammate buoyant. Tossed around in the swirling waters, a new wave engulfed them, but the determined man breached again, sputtering out salt and taking every moment of visibility to seek out land. Far off was a strip of breakwater—their only hope. The giant had his heading and kicked through the turbulent sea, each stroke zapping his energy. He was running on nothing when his limp body struck the tribars at last. After gaining purchase of the stone block, he hoisted himself and his burden onto the bumpy mound, then threw his rescue over his shoulders to clamber up the projecting concrete. Once he reached the flat surface of the jetty, he laid down his teammate and rushed to begin CPR. With all his girth, he thrummed his entwined fingers into the chest and damned himself for being too late with each inefficacious jolt. Not thinking twice, he switched methods to shoot breaths down the throat, all the while making petitions to Providence to please bring him back.
A gurgle.
Quaritch gasped, then twisted onto his side, hacking up sea water, blood and every vile thing that was festering in his body before breaking out into a shaky, uncontrollable wheeze. Someone propped him up and let him lean into their chest for support. When the colonel angled his neck to see who it was, he went very still.
"I already told you, sir…" Wainfleet smiled weakly. "I'll follow you wherever you go…"
Starring into those accursed eyes, the declaration triggered a round of haphazard coughs. "You took your—cough!—sweet time!—cough!"
Lyle was too exhausted to jest but tried. "Sorry, sir. But I had to get our team to safety first."
"Are they alive?"
"Believe so. The girl summoned some sort of whale that was going to bring them to the surface. I would've stayed to watch, but I had to come back for you before it was too late. Good thing you were cursing me so much. I was able to trail your echos."
Quaritch fidgeted in embarrassment with several loud and vulgar complaints. "Well, you deserved every one I shouted!"
"Yes, sir."
"You're still not natural, Lyle…" Miles leaned to make himself comfortable but broke into another nasty sputter.
"How do you feel?"
"Like s***."
As the two stationary men could do nothing, for the moment, other than recover, Lyle studied the fire raging across the marina. "What's happening out there?"
"Looks like the blackout was city-wide, and the Na'vi took advantage of it."
"We have to find Casey."
"She's dead."
Lyle went cold. "How do you know?"
His chest laboured to rise for the hard testimony. "I encountered Mrs. Sully…out there, on the bluff… She was disguised as her—hair…tattoos—cough!—and wearing Casey's bloodied uniform. She's gone, Lyle. And that b**** still walks." His sentence ended with another round of exasperated hacks as wretched as he was.
Wainfleet only stared upon the aftermath of The People's rage, for words escaped him. No flags could be lowered, no cannons sounded off, to bid his fallen sister a deserved salute. All he could do was bow his head in respect and offer her a moment of silence. Somewhere between the noise of crashing waters and uncontrolled fires, his voice returned. "She knew the risks, sir."
"No, Lyle. I am to blame. I asked her to stay behind."
"You didn't know."
He shut his eyes. That fateful, innocuous decision was born of pettiness, shame and cowardice—traits no leader should possess. He loved her, and now she was gone. His last memory of her—a far cry from what her greatness deserved and a fitting reminder of what he was. Lyle shouldn't have rescued him, but since he did, Quaritch was going to make good on his new directive. "Get me to my feet. We need to find your missus and get you out of here."
"Sir?"
"On my feet!"
The corporal swung a limp arm across his shoulders and brought Quaritch to a stand.
"Soon as I get you out of this city, I'm going to find Zhâng."
"You're going to need help with that, sir."
"Lyle…listen to me. You're going to fly off with your pregnant wife and leave Zhâng to me. Understand? It's not betrayal if I give you the order!"
The sniper acquiesced.
"Okay," Quaritch grumbled. "We understand each other."
From his direct, gruff and surly tone, Wainfleet knew full well this was his colonel's version of a blubbering apology. The kid brother readjusted his grip and helped his jerk hobble down the strip leading to the shore, but after several paces, Lyle learned even that was too much for Miles and took the initiative of tossing him up for a fireman's carry.
"Carrying me across the threshold, there?"
"Don't say that after we kissed, sir."
"Was it a big wet one?"
"Just the way you like it."
"God dammit, Lyle! Taking liberties—"
"Holy s***!"
"What? Something I said?"
The corporal set down his load and pointed. "It's Zhâng!"
"For f***'s sake!"
Going as fast as they could muster, the two fatigued recombinants limped towards their brother, and the elated amputee helped them onto dry land.
The comrade wasted no time for a hug. "What the hell, man?" Lyle laughed.
"Sup, Wainfleet. Sir." He nodded to both. "Did I pick a good time to finally wake up?"
"No!" The smiles were all around as Quaritch moved in to congratulate his recovery. "Well, if this ain't a damned coincidence. Guess we're all leaving together."
"I guess so," the corporal chuckled. "So, how do we get to Homestead?"
"With the help of our team, of course."
Quaritch's eyes followed Zhâng's hand and saw, past a lifting curtain of smoke, the gathered recombinants standing by their ikrans.
The second Walker spotted her colonel, she practically leapt onto him. He cried out from the wounds she reopened, but instead of an apology, she slapped him. "You bloody, stupid idiot! Why didn't you come with us? Leaving us to think you were dead…"
"I love you, too, Bridgette."
She slapped him again.
"I found them on the dock, sir. They say a whale brought 'em over."
"Yeah, in it's mouth. We paddled out and found Zhâng standing around on the shore playing valet for our birds."
"I guess they thought after spotting me, they'd find the rest of their riders."
"When we got to shore, we realized the girl wasn't with us anymore. I guess she preferred the company of the whale. Little hurt, but it's probably for the best."
"She must be halfway to Ninevah by now," Prager quipped, snugging into view.
Brown also joined them. "Sir, I… I want to apologize for earlier. You were right about the girl—We saw it firsthand. She's able to communicate telepathically with animals."
"What are you saying, Brown?" Quaritch accused.
Prager snorted.
"No, sir, that's not what I mean. Uh… S***."
"Well, she's gone now and headed off to who knows where," the colonel mumbled. He then craned his neck upon spying a small body lying on the ground and wrapped in an emergency blanket from a banshee pack. "Who died?"
Smiles faded, and heads were bowed in respect. "It's Parker, sir," the amputee revealed, and both Quaritch and Lyle stared at him hard. "He came for me in the ward, trying to help. We got out, but he had some sort of heart attack. Brown suspects he had too much excitement and…"
"He's gone?" Lyle muttered in disbelief, staring at the unmoving form.
"We were going to take him with us. No man gets left behind."
After a long look at the shroud, Quaritch nodded in approval. "Then let's stop dawdling. We need to get to Homestead."
"Don't forget Casey," Walker added. "She's probably pissed with us for taking so long."
He blinked once and said nothing; they hadn't the luxury of time to be disillusioned; instead, Quaritch walked over to Gloria, who had been circling the chaotic city for hours, searching for her rider. When the man finally had the decency to show, she growled in anger, and he patted her disapproving head. "Okay, Gloria, okay. Papa's back now. You can stop being so worried." Responding with a hiss, she supported him with her neck and helped nudge him aboard.
With their leader back in the saddle, the recombinants set out for Homestead one last time.
Farther away, at the edge of the kill zone, Neytiri landed ungracefully just past the perimeter. Lungs working hard, she searched for her son whom she had overtaken during the flight. She found him, hovering White Flower in the air and performing the action of dropping someone, after which Neteyam catapulted off the great neck and linked arms with his mother.
|"Could you not find Kiri?"| he panted.
Silently, Neytiri set a palm on his cheek, and the speckling of her wrinkled chin did the answering. The son tapped his forehead to hers.
She pulled away and breathed deeply. |"Where is your father?"|
He stared at her curiously, then turned around. Looking upon the vacant spot, every ounce of colour leaked out of his frame, and his legs locked to the ground.
"Neteyam…" Her voice creaked. |"Where is your father…?"|
The prince faced her, but instead of replying, what the woman saw were pinning eyes on a head that slowly began to tremble.
"Neteyam?" Her hands reached out, touching and cinching his arms. |"Wh-where is Jake? Where—"| The pleading fingers unintentionally dug into his elbows |"Where is my mate? Where is Rider of Last Shadow?"|
The head could not stay raised any longer.
|"No…"| The body wavered in shock, and the heart palpitated. Her eyes swelled. |"No! He is not gone… He is not gone!"| she shrieked. Neytiri ripped away from Neteyam and moved towards the kill zone, but a grab stopped her.
|"Mother, you can't!"|
|"I'm going back for him!"|
|"It's too late!"| The startling announcement seized her body, and when she managed to turn her head around, his face, strewn with pain, whimpered, |"We've lost him…"|
The woman's legs gave way, and the son dropped with her. Rocking together, the widow wrung her wrists as she broke out into a heart-wrenching caterwaul—the demon king's curse had befallen her.
Piles of ash, billows of smoke—all that they had to consider home—utterly destroyed: this is what the tribe returned to. They landed before the charred cabins, not wanting to believe their eyes and, with feet dragging across the dirt, the team stood before what was left of Homestead.
When it hit Lyle, he ran over, screaming his mate's name. He leapt up the weakened porch steps, but they collapsed under his weight, and he fell into the remains of his kelku. The desperate husband freed his leg and waded through the rubble, diving his hands into the ash, where he clawed away until reality finally slid its hand onto his shoulder and broke it to the man.
Zhâng was the complete opposite as he quietly dismounted Lyle's ikran and walked over to her former cabin. He stood at the smouldering porch like a statue serving as a monument to a grave. "I can't forgive you for this one, Z-Dog," he whispered. "You knew I didn't want to wake up if you weren't going to be there..." The quivering lips clamped, and the eyes squeezed before anything else could come rushing out.
Not one recombinant denied the mourners a bow of the head. As for the sniper, he did not linger; a sour dullness took over his mind, allowing him to operate his body from a semi-dead state—his heart so overwhelmed, it couldn't emote anymore; and, like an animated corpse, the widower drew up. His body wobbled a bit as he returned to his team, his eyes staring at nothing and a face smeared in the paint of his mourning. Miles took a step towards him, flowed an arm across the back, and brought him in with each firm pat. Without speaking, Lyle bobbed his head in answer to that silent request of his colonel to just hold out for a little longer.
Only after Zhâng returned did their leader address them all. "Tonight, we lost four. Parker. Lyle's wife and child, and Casey. I said once before that if our numbers change, it could only go down. But what matters is how long we make that number last. This…" His hand encompassed the crowd. "This is what we defend, no matter what Bridgehead or Sully or any savage tries throwing at us. We are not human, we are not Na'vi—"
"We are family," they answered in unison.
A limb reached for a limb or a head or a back; and, once more, the team huddled in a hold that could not be broken. After mourning the loss of one and cherishing the return of another, the recombinants mounted their banshees and flew out of Bridgehead. The night had tested them, and while none left it unscathed, they forever owned the knowledge that they had one another to lean on—a beacon that would guide them through the darkness and back into the light. This was the real Pandora Effect. It was not a condition but a treatment—the healing power of the moon that lay in the bond. Whether between family, friends or the flora and fauna around them, every connection made served to bring the soul back home.
End of Volume 1
