Read In Makr's Shadow - Book One: Symbiosis Page 51

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  "Nobody knows the age of the human race, but everybody agrees that it is old enough to know better." - Anonymous

  From the hover-car high above, the city looked relatively untouched. The two comrades flying above wreaking as much havoc as possible were showing no gains for their efforts. They each wore the look of defeat.

  "It should look like a battlefield. Why doesn't it look like a battlefield, Winston?"

  "How should I know? Makr doesn't want it to look like a battlefield? Maybe SensaVision is hiding the damage from the Shadow soldiers."

  "You may have something there. After all we've done, how can Makr still be doing that? Surely the others must be making some headway. All the explosions, destruction, diversions, confusions, misinformation, none of it seems to be doing any good."

  "If this city continues to look the same, the battle is lost." Greg Jackson, for the first time, seemed ready to quit.

  "Maybe it's only this city. Maybe the others are having success elsewhere. We are one group in millions. Surely others will have fared better."

  "We strike at the heart of Makr. This is where the most Shadows have died in the fight. This is the only place where Makr can be defeated. I know it. He's won. If we can't see where we've wounded the enemy, how can we finish him?"

  "Maybe we can't."

  "He's won, then, hasn't He? How can we see Him? How can we..."

  Greg was thinking out loud, but Winston offered an answer anyway. "He is everywhere where things seem rosiest."

  "So how do we know he's hurt? Hey, wait a minute. What did you just say?"

  "Nothing important."

  "Let me be the judge of that. What did you say?"

  "Nothing really. I just said Makr is where the city looks the best—something like that."

  "Rosiest. You said 'rosiest'."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "Where this city looks the best—the cleanest, most pleasant, has the most beautiful scenery, artwork—that's where Makr has concentrated his hardware—and created the illusions of places we wouldn't touch. Human sentimentality and all that."

  Winston was delighted to see Greg's passion was back. "Does this mean we're still in the fight?"

  "I say let's take inventory and go to work," he said, slapping Winston on the back.

  The friendly blow knocked Winston forward, causing him to hit the hovercar's controls. As the floating vehicle lurched downward, Winston could see, people, lots of them. They appeared to be wandering around aimlessly.

  "I hate to tell you that your plan may be flawed," he told Greg.

  "Not my plan, buddy. 'Our' plan."

  "Okay, 'our' plan, then. Look down there."

  "People, so what? One of Makr's tricks."

  "I don't think so."

  "Go on."

  "Well, when Makr creates an illusion, it's perfect. We understand totally what's happening because the illusion is complete. What are they doing down there?" He pointed to the crowd he saw below.

  "I don't know. Walking around?"

  "Why?"

  "I see what you mean. Those people are real. But they're responding to Makr's illusion and we aren't!"

  "There's the glitch. Makr has created illusions to hide all evidence of His work, but here He's not made it as perfect as it should be. My guess is Makr's damaged."

  "The big explosion?"

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  "Whatever caused it doesn't matter. What does matter is our next target. And, Winston, you did it! You found it for us." He went to slap Winston hard on the back again, but Winston pulled back. Instead, he grinned, "Thanks."