The Edge of Oblivion: A Military Sci Fi Epic

By E.F. Skarda

The rebellion brought to its knees. Their only hope neutralized. With his Celestial abilities gone, can Kyle Griffin still save the galaxy... or will he die trying?

The Commander has never felt so mortal. Defeated by his longtime nemesis and taken captive, the superhuman soldier struggles to cope with the loss of his divine powers, even as he is forced to witness his brothers-in-arms suffer under their enemy’s savage torture. Imprisoned and alone, Kyle is forced to fight his way free, knowing that finding refuge with what remains of the Splinter may be their cause’s only hope for survival.

But when a shocking revelation makes him question his very existence, he begins to fear his seemingly inevitable descent into the depths of his own rage. Will he be able to rise above his stunning discovery to return to the fray?

Find out in The Edge of Oblivion, the explosive third book of the epic Infinity Chronicles saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.F. Skarda
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781734624939

E.F. Skarda

I am not a writer by trade. I actually eschewed the creative thing in college for some hard science. I graduated from college with a major in biology and a minor in kinesiology with an eye on going to medical school. When I got talked out of that (by an orthopedic surgeon, of all people), I settled on going to physical therapy school. That’s where I met my wife, Taya, which made the whole decision worth it. I’ve been a physical therapist for almost 13 years at the time of writing this, and I’ve gotten a lot of distinctions in the profession. I’m a registered Orthopedic Clinical Specialist, a certified manual therapist twice over, and a Fellow of the American Academy of Orthopedic Manual Therapy. I also teach hands-on courses to other therapists, most of whom are older and more experienced than I am. I am a national examiner for manual therapy certifications, and am a Certified Fellowship Instructor through a post-graduate institute. My business card looks really good.So why turn to writing? Because it’s always been the dream. And I’m at the point in my life where dreams mean more than credentials. If you’ve ever felt strung out at your job, you know what I’m talking about.I’ve got an almost-eight-year old son, Ryder, who is the center of my entire world. He’s slowly following his dad into the underground cult that is hockey, which is oh-so-much fun for me. He’s smart and strong, and his laugh is enough to turn even a vile villian’s heart into slow oozing butter. He hasn’t quite developed the compulsive love for the Broncos that I have, but I’m confident that he’ll get there. Wink, wink.So that’s it. That’s me. If you’ve ever felt like you’re missing your passion in life, whether that’s for writing or anything else, post a comment. I’m always happy to talk about it.Cheers!

Book preview

The Infinity Chronicles:

Edge of Oblivion

EF Skarda

Copyright © 2020 E.F. Skarda

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Prologue

Am I dead?

The thought was odd. Like the uncertainty meant it had to be true. But still that uncertainty felt infinite. He felt no body, no exterior, no interior, no self or surroundings. All that existed was a void, like the cosmos were tumbling around him, oblivious to his consciousness.

Until his senses suddenly returned.

What the hell is that smell? he wondered.

It was jarring, enough to snap him out of his stupor. The noxious scent climbed up his nose and shook his brain awake. It was a combination of soured yogurt and burning swampland. A smell that made him want to smash his sinuses with his own fist.

That's when a headache stampeded from the front of his eyes to the vertex of his skull. His temples pounded like they were about to split open at the sutures. Or maybe it already had. He felt blood dripping out of his right ear.

The slow trickle tickled the skin on his ear as each drop fell. Amid the thumping inside his head, it was all he could think about. He tried to find his hand to wipe it away, but his eyelids were too heavy and all his limbs disjointed. By the time he swam through the fog, he realized his hands were bound with metal restraints pulled back above his head.

Suddenly, he could feel all his wounds again. One gunshot in the thigh. The second in his scapula. The cramp in his chest. The split in his chin. It all came rushing back. But it wasn't the pain that opened his eyes. There was a noise in front of him. It sounded like a growl.

He blinked furiously and the blurry image cleared. It was the horned hell-spawn that had ended his fight in the compound. Its fangs were still bared. Its scalding iron fists were still clenched.

It stomped forward, its breath reeking of bile and brimstone.

The beast plunged a pair of talons under his ribs. He screamed.

And that’s when Kyle Griffin realized he wasn't dead yet…

Chapter One

The bridge of the Gemini was bedlam. Panic wasn’t enough to describe it. This was pure, unadulterated chaos. People were screaming, people were crying…people were bleeding. It felt like the end of the world.

As if they’d be running from anything else.

Jay yelled for everyone to be quiet. He wailed until his voice went shrill, but the others just wouldn’t shut up. He couldn’t even hear the ship’s impact alarms or its proximity sensors. If he could get everyone to pipe down, he’d be able to focus. To get them out of there. Get them to safety.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

The booming grind of old, heavy gears announced the gates were opening. The bridge started shaking as the hydraulics shuddered around the Gemini, and it finally shocked everyone into silence. Jay ignited the electromagnetic engines and turned to the stricken crowd behind him.

Jacks, the gates are opening! he yelled. Get everyone buckled in downstairs! This is gonna be rough!

Outside, the courtyard had split wide open. A wash of blue telekinetic energy was crackling through the air. Kyle was doing his best to buy them some time, and he'd done a hell of a job. The rush of Fury foot soldiers had been swallowed up by his efforts, but it cost him. A Dominion Predator rifle fired three shots through their commander’s chest. Kyle crumpled onto his back.

Jay’s scream startled Jenna as she climbed into the navigation seat next to him, but he had no time to explain. He spun his chair toward the munitions controls, and quickly fired a plasma round from their cannons. The Predator burst into a shower of debris.

Jackson clamored back onto the bridge, his eyes in an unfamiliar panic.

What happened? he demanded.

Jay leaned on the thrusters, and the ship darted forward, arcing upward into the black night of the canyon.

Kyle… Jay gushed, his teeth chattering. Kyle’s hit…I think he’s down…

Jackson leaned toward the window, but by then Jay had the ship nearly vertical in their ascent.

You’re sure? Jackson asked.

Jacks, I saw it, Jay answered. Three sabre rounds to the chest. Goddam it…

The proximity alarms lit up their console. Their sight lines filled with more Predators diving down from the crest of the canyon.

Shit. Jacks, buckle in and arm the guns, Jay said. We've got company.

Jackson moved slowly, seemingly stunned by the thought of Kyle going down. Jay had more pressing issues, like the swarm of warships barreling toward them.

Jenna, put up the shields, Jay ordered. "And keep a bead on that Destroyer. If we manage to get by these Predators, we'll still have to do something to get around it."

The shields shimmered to life in front of them, and Jay raked the controls to his right. The ship spiraled backward, plummeting back into the depths of the canyon. A spray of gunfire followed them, illuminating their path like a shower of fireworks.

Jay pulled up sharply and the Gemini darted to the east of the colony, toward the pyres where Mac was laid to rest. The Dominion ships were pelleting the city streets. Buildings shredded like paper in a hailstorm, geysers of fire billowing from each impact.

Their left wing took a heavy hit, and the ship dipped precipitously between the buildings. Jay grunted as the walls closed in on them, but he couldn’t slow down. The streets started whipping by, blurring the whole colony in a haze of fiery rain.

Jay, we’ve gotta lead these things away from the colony! Jackson hollered.

You’ve got the guns, buy me some space! Jay shouted. I can’t maneuver while we’re pinned down!

Working on it! Jackson said. Keep us steady!

The ship was trembling from the onslaught behind them. Jay felt each shot through the controls. The ship was vibrating like a coiled spring. Their own aft cannons raged in desperation, trying to cut a window wide enough for Jay to get them out of the city.

Finally, a volley of Jackson’s shots hit their mark. The explosion split their pursuers in half, giving them a slim window. Jay took the chance, looping back above the rooftops before screaming beyond the city limits. The darkness opened in front of them, and Jay let loose the throttle.

The ship banked right then left, spun like a bullet riding a tornado. Plasma missiles and kinetic stellar rounds screeched past the windows, crashing against the rocky canyon walls in blazing conflagrations. It sounded like a train bearing down on them, but still they couldn’t pull away. Not while they were forced into such evasive maneuvers.

Jay, we can’t keep this up! Jenna insisted. There’s more inbound.

Jay bit his lip. He counted the ships in pursuit on their display. Sixteen total. Too many to out-duel in a dogfight. He’d have to lose them. He just didn’t know how. The canyon cut off their options. As did the Destroyer above. They needed more guns. Or a miracle.

Fuck it, Jay said finally. Hold on.

He flipped the stick, and the Gemini did a summersault, spinning back toward the colony. Jackson and Jenna both let out panicked screams.

Jay, what are you doing? Jackson demanded.

Gonna try and split ‘em up! Jay hollered. Put it all in the forward guns. And don’t miss!

Jackson peppered the on-rushing squadron with shell after shell. Several went up in flames, and the others scattered.

They cut through the herd, ducking and dangling around their attackers. Jay could see the edge of the colony behind them. On the walls above the compound there were automated turrets with enough payload to buy them some time. That is, if they activated.

You’re taking us back to the colony? Jenna asked.

Jay nodded fiercely, like his neck was clamped down. We gotta hope the wall-mounted turrets come on, he muttered."

What about the people in the streets? Jenna asked. We’ll bring these ships right over them.

Jay glanced briefly at Jenna, then looked back at Jackson. The captain breathed heavily out of his mouth as he looked over his crew. Jay didn’t want to say that they were already lost, but it’s what he was thinking. Jackson knew that. And he knew Kyle’s directive, maybe the last one he would ever give them: get Bryan off this moon. At all costs.

Get us out of here, Jay, Jackson ordered finally. Whatever you’ve got to do.

Jenna’s eyes dropped, but she didn’t argue. There was blood on her cheek. It clumped her thick hair together. She was run ragged. First, she lost Mac, now her home.

Suddenly, a lancing round pierced the shields over their left wing, and the exterior punctured. The damage alarms went wild, though Jay didn’t need them to know they’d been hit. The controls veered hard to their left, dragging them toward the canyon wall. Jay overcorrected, and another lancing round drilled through the aft storage compartments. The rear of the ship lurched downward as the city approached.

Jay leaned on the throttle to get some altitude. The belly of the wounded ship gouged the roof of a building near the outskirts like a rake through sand. The damaged shields held, but the building wasn’t so fortunate. It crumpled like cheap cardboard onto the crowded streets below.

The impact bounced them back toward the courtyard. By then it was teeming with Fury grunts. They were scaling the walls. The fight seemed over. And it would be for them soon as well if they couldn’t find a way out of the atmosphere.

Jay, we took some hits, Jackson stated. How’s she doing?

Engines are still at full capacity, Jay answered. A lot of drag on the left. Shields are down to sixty-seven percent. He grunted as another volley splashed against the shields on the right, though this time they held. Won’t make a damn difference if we can’t get off this fucking rock!

What the hell else can we do? Jenna asked.

Jay shook his head. There wasn’t anything else. If only the ordinance would switch on…

Then, miraculously, it did. The cannons ignited like a clap of thunder, tearing into the Predators from every angle.

Jay jumped and quickly looked above them. He saw a path out of the canyon. So he took it.

The Gemini screamed upward, toward the Destroyer waiting above.

Holy shit, what just happened? Jackson asked.

I don’t know, Jay answered. The cannons came on. I have no idea how, and right now I don’t really care. We’ve still got to get past that Destroyer.

What’s the plan? Jenna asked.

Jay had an idea. But the others wouldn’t like it.

Prime the warp engine, Jay said. We’ve gotta make the jump now.

"What?" Jenna asked, her head snapping toward their pilot.

Now, Jay repeated. We’ve gotta do it now.

Jay, what the fuck are you talking about? Jackson asked. We’ve gotta clear the atmosphere. Otherwise it’ll tear the ship apart.

It can take it, Jay insisted. Mac always thought it could.

Mac’s not fucking here! Jackson screamed. The hull is damaged. We’ll be ripped to shreds.

The shields will hold us together, Jay persisted. Mac knew they could. I believe him.

Jackson didn’t reply. He just sat there shaking his head. Jay looked over to Jenna again. She paused.

It’s our only shot, Jay repeated.

Jenna nodded reluctantly and punched in some coordinates in the warp drive. Jackson unsnapped his harness and rushed forward.

No! he screamed. It’ll kill us all!

Jacks, you’ve gotta trust me! Jay yelled back. For once in your fucking life, just trust me!

Jackson shook his head and pulled Jenna’s hand away from the warp drive controls. I can’t let you do it, he said. We don’t even know where we’re going.

She’s got coordinates for a safe drop point, Jay said. Let her go.

No! Jackson shouted. It’s not safe!

"Fuck that, trying to outgun a Destroyer is not safe, Jay replied. Jenna, hit the switch."

Jay, I’m ordering you to cut the shit! Jackson bellowed.

Jay spun and drove his left fist into his captain’s nose. Jackson’s eyes welled up and he fell backward. Jay pointed at the warp drive.

Do it! he said.

Jenna hit the switch and the warp drive abruptly pulled them forward through the worm hole. They darted through the massive ship lurking over their heads, leaving the crumbling colony behind in their wake.

Chapter Two

Kyle’s eyes opened slowly, like they’d somehow been glued together. His eyelids felt like sandpaper grinding over his pupils. He tried to lift his head, but it felt like there was an anvil on his neck. His face was bloated, as though all the blood in his body had rushed into his cheeks. It was a miserable feeling. At least he thought so, until he felt the jarring pain in his side.

The right side of his trunk was on fire, like it had been punctured with a railroad spike. Then he remembered the hell-spawn impaling him with those claws. He thought it would rip him in half, but here again he found himself still alive. Or, mostly alive anyway.

It took several minutes for his eyes to focus. Might have been an hour. When they finally did clear, he could see the wound in his belly. It was wide, probably a foot long or more, and jagged like it had been cut by a blind man. There were staples holding the edges together. Dried and crusted blood painted his suddenly stark white stomach, following the definition of his muscles down to his waist. A thick metal vice rose out of the floor and encased his lower half like he’d been squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste.

Finally, he found the strength to look around. He was in a wide room, the walls a shale grey and covered in sprawling components. They converged over the wall behind him, which sprouted his restraints like a vine from the soil. In front of him was a wide sliding door, thick and rugged, with a round window viewing out into a towering open assemblage. He saw rows upon rows of other cells like his stretching down the expanse. It was enormous, covering hundreds of meters, and rising stories above what he could see through the small window.

The dark walls, the towering cell block, the coiled, almost organic metal…he was inside Fury Headquarters.

He felt tingling in his arms, pins-and-needles that danced all the way down to his fingertips. They had been pulled over his head and strapped down by metal sleeves, extending above his elbow. He pulled against the restraints meekly, but they were stout. With each exertion the shackles squeezed tighter, the living metal of Fury Headquarters countering his effort. It made his hands tingle and thundered his heartbeat across his arms. Even on his best day he couldn’t have broken those bonds.

Several hours passed. He could hear others outside his cell. People and mutants stalking around. They echoed miles away at times; others just outside his door. It made him no more at ease. With each moment his senses returned, and with them he heard distant screams. Torture being administered. It made his stomach turn. He wondered which of his friends it might be.

He repeatedly called for his powers, but got nothing in return. It made him feel empty. And helpless. He still felt the lumps in his shoulder and thigh, the ones made by the serosa chloride bullets. They were still inside him, buried in his flesh. They sapped him of his Celestial strength, leaving him very much mortal. And vulnerable.

But…his captors had kept him alive. Why? Why risk keeping him here? Perhaps they wanted to torture him. Drain him of all his defiance and zeal before finally putting an end to him. That was a definite possibility. But he wasn’t convinced.

His endless thoughts were broken as the door to his cell slid open. Kyle expected soldiers, maybe Fury grunts. What he saw was something entirely different. Two beings entered, but they weren’t men. And they weren’t mutants either. One was floating a foot above the ground like a specter, a swirl of wind seeming to follow his every move. The gusts whipped against Kyle’s bare chest, forcing him to turn his dry eyes away. The other was cloaked in black, and his hands sizzled with blades of Vaughn’s black flame. He looked like a walking razor blade, but dark like a collapsed star.

Kyle knew immediately what they were: charmed conduits just like Captain Jones. the Vicars, as they were called. Donovan must have bestowed an enchantment on both of them. Kyle anticipated there would be others, but he wasn’t expecting this. They looked menacing, the enchantments having made their faces pale as the color seeped from them like water from a drain. He sensed the power they wielded as soon as they entered the room. It made his skin bristle. Vaughn was building himself some horsemen.

Well, Commander Griffin, the floating ghoul started. His voice sounded hollow, like it was echoing from a mile away. How does it feel to be home?

Home? Kyle choked. His throat was as dry as his eyes. This isn’t my home.

Oh, come now, the ghoul persisted. You know what this place is. It’s the mutant’s sanctuary. It’s their play-pen, really. And that’s all you are now, a mutant. This is where you belong. Among your own kind.

Is that why you brought me here? Kyle asked. To taunt me?

Don’t you wish it were so simple, the ghoul teased. No, unfortunately for you, our Master has far more planned for you.

"‘Master?’ Kyle huffed. You call that son of a bitch ‘Master?’"

You will as well, in time, the second conduit said. He sounded like a bolt of electricity.

Kyle shook his head. You don’t know me at all, do you?

We know Vaughn, the razor blade replied.

Kyle couldn’t hide a sarcastic laugh. It stung the wound on his stomach like someone had poured salt on it. He tried to hide it, not wanting to give these two the satisfaction. He grimaced anyway.

Then you know that whatever he has planned, it’s got nothing to do with you, Kyle sneered. It’s all about him.

We are well aware of our Lord’s plan, specifically when it pertains to you, Commander, the ghoul said. That is why we are here.

There was a reason they had kept him alive. If he kept them talking, perhaps he could discern what it was.

Who are you? he asked finally.

You don’t remember us? the ghoul asked back. I would have thought your mutant memory would help you. He shrugged, whisping off to his right. We remember you. We spent some time with you in the Infinity Protocol when we were boys. You ended our time there with a beating at the feet of the Gentry.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. He tried to look past the cowls, the blanching paleness, into the details of their faces. Finally, he saw the dent in the razor’s cheek caused by the heel of his boot, and the excavated chest on the ghoul caused by his fist. The memory was cast in front of his eidetic memory as though it had just happened. They were the last two cadets to fall to him on his first day in the combat arena when he was twelve. He’d tried to spare them by walking out, but Dr. Preston insisted he leave no man standing. He didn’t. And now these two were the emissaries of his captivity.

Vaughn had really gone all out to find men that would hate him.

You have names, Kyle said. Or did he take them from you too?

Our mortal names are of no meaning, the razor answered. My name now is Asger. My friend is called Nyx. We’ve come with a proposition from our Master.

He wants to make a deal? Kyle asked, shocked. With me?

Indeed, Asger responded. His terms are this: give us what you know of the remaining Splinter cells. Help us find your friends and your uncle. Do that and he will cease the torture of the people who came here with you.

Kyle paused. Who did they have? He had to think for a moment, the blow to the head and loss of blood blurring his photographic memory. He counted them off in his head. The two Provost soldiers. The corporal. Cullen. Mrs. Preston and the doctor. Angel. Dan. And Ellie. Oh God, they had Ellie. If they knew who she was, and what she was to him she would become a walking target. But they didn’t. They couldn’t. That was his only comfort.

Of course, it just meant they’d go after someone else he cared about.

Well, Commander, Asger continued. What shall we tell him?

They’d drag his friends in front of him one by one. They’d kill them. That was inevitable.

Commander? Asger asked again.

His friends would die. He couldn’t save them. He knew that. But he’d be damned if he’d help these bastards win.

You can tell him to go fuck himself, Kyle said.

Defiant as ever. Who said he’d been beaten?

The floor abruptly started shaking, and Vaughn Donovan appeared at the door. His old nemesis was massive, having to duck under the header just to enter the cell. He had nothing covering his face, which had withered away even more since their last in-person encounter. Kyle always thought he looked like a gargoyle, even from the day they first met, and the way his skin was peeling back against his skull made the comparison even more appropriate.

The two conduits bowed out of the way. The black flame swept across the floor, darkening the already grim room. Kyle felt its heat, like he’d suddenly stepped into a volcano. It felt like it would melt the skin off his bones. He never realized how much his powers buffered the world for him, until they were gone.

"You still have no respect, do you, Griffin? Vaughn grumbled. Even when you have so much to lose, you still can’t admit defeat."

You know what we were taught, Kyle answered, his lips curled into a snarl. We’re never beaten until we’re dead.

"And you still believe that?" Vaughn chuckled, spreading a vile, rotting grin.

I know you still believe it, Kyle replied. How else would you have crawled off the palace lawn and found the Eye? Kyle eyed the Celestial amulet embedded in Vaughn’s chest. You certainly looked beaten when I was done with you.

Vaughn sneered. "You should have made sure I was dead."

Kyle laughed. Again it hurt the gash on his side, making him cough. That just made it hurt worse.

You’re right, Kyle said finally. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.

This time Vaughn started laughing in earnest. The two lackeys chimed in on cue. The flame danced around like it was joining in the hilarity. Kyle could have bit through a diamond he was so charged.

"I don’t know what’s funnier, Vaughn cackled. The fact that you said that, or the fact that it’s actually true!"

A few days ago, Kyle would have singed the entire room with a bolt of blue lightning. Today all he could do was stew in his own inadequacy.

After a few moments, Vaughn finally stopped laughing. He turned back to business.

"Tell me where the others have gone, he insisted. Save yourself the heartache. How many of your friends do you think you can lose before you crack?"

You wouldn’t touch them, Kyle quipped, hoping his bluff wasn’t so clear. You’d lose your leverage.

"You know better than that, Griffin, Vaughn said. One luxury I have in spades is time. If I can’t get it out of you, one of them will tell me."

Kyle shook his head vehemently. They would never help you, he insisted. They’d rather die.

"I believe you, Vaughn replied. For most of them anyhow. Some, however…I think they’re already in my corner."

Kyle couldn’t hide a quizzical look. There were more footsteps outside the door. Big ones. But it was the shuffle of smaller feet, with the clank of shackles, that occupied his ears.

The demon mutant from the bunker appeared in the doorway again, this time herding Dr. Preston into Kyle’s cell. His old mentor was bound by electromagnetic restraints on his hands and feet, and was bent forward. The bruises under his eyes and across his chin had magnified. His breathing was shallow, and the hunch in his posture seemed to suggest that he had broken ribs. Blood was strewn across the flank and rear of his tattered shirt and had dripped down the back of his pants. He’d been flogged, probably with a plasma-whip. It was a brutal torture, like being raked with a soldering iron. It peeled off the skin and left the wound exposed and festering. Clearly, they’d been working on him for days, waiting to parade his battered body in here under Kyle’s nose.

Vaughn grabbed the doctor and forced him down onto his knees.

"Your mentor and I have spent the last several days talking, Vaughn said. Just like old times."

He doesn’t know anything, Kyle said. You’ve been wasting your time.

Vaughn smirked. "You don’t give the doctor enough credit, Griffin, he huffed. He’s always been a very enterprising spy. And we have his family. You don’t think he farmed for information that could save their lives if he was captured? How do you think we found you in the first place?"

Kyle leveled his stare at the doctor. His head was dangling on his neck like a loose thread. He barely reacted as Vaughn spoke, like he was hardly conscious enough to make out the words. But Kyle was suspicious. He remembered seeing the doctor in the bunker back on Aranow with Angel and the others, and feeling like he had dragged that Armageddon down on them. He wanted to kill his teacher himself in that moment.

Still, there was something orchestrated about Vaughn’s speech. Something pre-planned. It didn’t add up.

He brought you to us, and you beat the shit out of him anyway? Kyle asked. Sounds like a pretty rotten deal. David Preston doesn’t do rotten deals.

"You’re certain? Vaughn taunted. Even for the lives of his family?"

If he brought the Fury to Aranow, he could have killed his family, Kyle replied. They don’t discriminate. He knows that as well as anyone.

"You seem awfully confident for a man who was ready to kill him yourself, Vaughn said. That is what you told him that day in the bunker, is it not?"

Kyle paused. There were only a handful of people who could have