Free Armageddon's Children by Terry Brooks Page A

destructiveness. Bad and good alike will be consumed. Most of the demons will perish, too.”
    “That part sounds pretty good. But the morph can prevent all this in some way?”
    “No one can prevent it. Nothing can stop it. But the morph has the means to survive it, the means to transcend the destruction and allow a handful of the world’s inhabitants to start anew.”
    “How is it going to do that?”
    The Sinnissippi rocked backward slowly. “By opening a door that leads to a safe place.”
    “For a chosen few?”
    “For a scattering of men, women, and children who will find their way to you.”
    “The remnants of humankind.”
    “Some. Not all will be human.”
    Logan hesitated on hearing that, but decided not to pursue it. “Where will the child find this door?”
    “The child will know.”
    Logan felt a keen sense of frustration. Nothing about any of this seemed very clear. “One problem. If you can’t find this child, how am I supposed to? I don’t have the skills for that.”
    “You won’t need them. You will have its mother’s help.” He climbed to his feet. “Come, Logan. We will walk some more.”
    He led the way through the trees and past the burial mounds toward the remains of a wire fence that had long since rusted away into orphan posts and twisted ends. Logan followed the Sinnissippi in silence, but his eyes kept scanning their surroundings. He was still unconvinced that they were as safe as the big man seemed to think. He had spent too many years looking over his shoulder ever to think of himself as being safe. The habits of his lifetime could not be put aside easily.
    On the other side of the fence, they found the cemetery. Rows of stone markers in various stages of decay poked up through heavy weeds. Some of the markers had fallen over completely. Many had been vandalized, their inscriptions so badly defaced that they were unreadable. Logan didn’t know how cemeteries were supposed to look. No one had used cemeteries since before he was born. But he could envision how this one would have appeared if it had been kept up. It made him sad, thinking of so many lives forgotten. Still, he supposed, you carried your memories of the dead in your heart. That was the safest place for them.
    Two Bears took him onto the bluffs, into a smaller section of the cemetery that was divided from the larger by a cracked and buckled blacktop road. They walked through the weeds and grasses and marble and granite stones to a pair of massive oaks. A plain, unadorned marker sat by itself in front of the trees.
    The big man stopped and pointed at the marker. Logan stared at the writing. It read:
     
    MARION CASE
    Born September 2, 1948
    Died March 21, 2018
     
    “Who is Marion Case?” Logan asked.
    In response, Two Bears swept his hand in front of the stone, and the old writing melted away to reveal new.
     
    NEST FREEMARK
    Born January 8, 1983
    Died July 29, 2062
    FAST RUNNER
     
    “I disguised it after the wars began, to hide it from those who might do damage even to the dead,” the Sinnissippi said quietly. “Even in her bones, there is great power. Power that should not fall into the hands of the wrong creatures.”
    Logan glanced over. “What does the inscription mean? Fast Runner ?”
    “She was an Olympic champion in the middle-distance events. She won many times. Even though it wasn’t her most important legacy, it had special meaning for her. I came back after she died, buried her, and set this stone in place. I knew her work wasn’t finished. But this is where she belongs. Sit with me.”
    He lowered himself to the ground over the grave site, crossed his legs, and folded his arms. Glancing about first, Logan followed. “What are we doing?”
    O’olish Amaneh didn’t answer. Instead, he put a finger to his lips to signal for silence. Then he closed his eyes and went very still. Logan watched him, waiting to see what would happen. After a moment, the big man began to chant softly in a tongue