I’m the contracted bride of the billionaire

Chapter 65: Cambel’s Return

As constant pounding on the bunker door sent ripples of tension through the group, Heart pounding, Philip moved for silence as he reached the door.

He headed for the survey port quivering hands, ready for anything terrible that might lie on the other side. His breath seized in his throat as he pushed open the small metal cover.

Calmly among the anarchy of the changed city was Cambel. His stepmother had well groomed hair and a spotless expensive dress.

She seemed to find the post-apocalyptic environment all around her to be only a small annoyance. “Philip, sweetheart,” Cambel’s voice came through clearly across the obviously heavy metal barrier separating them.

“Won’t you be asking me to visit?” Philip stood still, his mind failing briefly. Her arrival method was And why did she seem to be bored with everything? He turned slowly toward the others.

Their facial expressions varied between disbelief to pure mistrust. Speaking little above a whisper, he said, “It’s Cambel.” Amanda stepped forward, her brow wrinkled. “Your stepping mother? In what ways might that be? The city is in ruin. Philip shook his head since he couldn answer. He turned back to face the review port, where Cambel stood still, a small smile playing all the fury.

She complained not once. “Cambal, what do you wish?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Her smile extended. “Why, of course, to help? Will you let me in? It’s shockingly dirty over here. Philip delayed; his senses alerted him to something being somewhat off-target.

But he wouldn’t be able to just leave her there, either. Drawing a long breath, he began to open the bunker door. Gradually opening it, Cambel entered as if she were attending a corporate conference instead of a frantic hideout. “Well, this is cozy,” she said, noting the nervous looks on the survivors’ faces. Philip: “I see you have gathered rather a small resistance movement.” Philip watched her closely and noted she seemed quite relaxed in the dark bunker.

“How would you find us? And in this sense, how are you doing? He gestured to her perfect looks. Cambels’s laughing rocked Philip to his very core. “Goodness, darling. Did you really find that there were just one path of action for every imaginable scenario? even one as… deviates from the norm as this?” Dr. Reeves moved forward, his wariness abandoned by his logical curiosity. “Mrs. Waller, have you ever visited any of the agencies? Knowing what they are, do you find yourself Philip couldn’t quite match the feeling Cambel’s eyes conveyed. ” Entities? That you’re phoning them? How captivating. Philip’s stomach grew comfy under a sense of dread.

The simplicity with which Cambel moved and spoke about this new world… She might have some link to the alien intelligence, too. “Cambel,” he continued slowly, “what do you are familiar this?” She turned to meet him and kept smiling nonstop. “Philip, I know change comes natural. Nobody is free from evolution. Those that are flexible last. Those that are tenacious…

She trailed off, letting the consequences linger palpally. The room went silent as her words sank in weight.

Philip’s mind flew in an attempt to make connections. Knowing the invasion, Was Cambel? In whatever sense did she help it to happen? Amanda spoke before he could voice his doubts. “Mrs. Waller, people are disappearing there with all the appropriate respect.

Cities are changing. How do you stay so calm in the face of this? Cambel’s attitude confirmed momentarily, a flash of something frigid and alien in her gaze. But it disappeared so fast Philip nearly thought he had created it. “My dear,” Cambel murmured, her voice tumbling with false compassion, “demise and transformation are two of a type. Others could see your devastation to be development.

Philip sensed a cold slink down his spine. He glanced quickly at Amelia’s sketchbook, still safe in her jacket. Would Cambel know about its strange qualities? Regarding Amelia’s connection with the insight from the outsider Turning to study the tiny bulge in the sketchbook, Cambel seemed to be reading his ideas. “Philip, you have been silent lately.

Thought of sharing with the class? Philip instinctively put his hand over the book out of sight. “It’s nothing,” he remarked fast. too soon.

Cambel narrowed her eyes, but she did not bring up the matter. She turned to speak to the whole gathering instead. “Presently therefore, at that moment, I agree at least for now that you’re all trying to track down a means of’retaliate’ against this claimed attack. Still, have you considered perhaps that barrier is useless? That this might, just maybe, be the next human evolutionary step? Her words hung thick with implication, almost tangible. Philip looked at the faces of his bunch of manufactured opposition.

Their expressions started to reflect uncertainty replacing determination and skepticism. He answered strongly, “No,” then moved forward to face Cambel. This is not development in evolution. annihilation here. We will pause it as well.

Cambel grinned savagely. “Goodness, Philip; Dreamer always by nature. But tell me specifically how you plan to stop something you don’t even understand. The lights in the bunker seemed to be flickering on demand. Outside, they could hear the dull, throbbing hum of the alien constructions increasing louder. Dr. Reeves dashed to one of the set-up work stations. “Mr. Waller, you need to see this,” he said, his voice tense with eagerness. Philip joined him at the screen as he watched; his blood froze.

On the map, the impacted areas had clearly changed. Philadelphia’s red spots pointing to extraterrestrial activity were no longer radiating outward. All else equal, they were joining and structuring difficult cases that seemed to pulse with an unusual intensity. Amanda said, staring behind Philip, “it resembles they’re imparting.” “Action cooperation.” Philip turned back to see Cambel observing the event with a priggish contentment. He asked, “What’s going on?” “What do you know here?” Cambel sighed, clearly unhappy at his ignorance. “Philip, it’s only beginning. the notable shift.

The old world will shortly only be a memory. She said and the outside buzzing got louder and more forceful. The force of it gave the bunker walls seeming vibrational movement. Philip’s psyche danced, trying to solve the puzzle.

Cambel’s unexplainable serenity, her mysterious remarks, her look to be more informed than she actually was… All of it suggested a terrible ending. “You’re working with them,” he remarked, and the insight struck home. “You have always belonged here.”

Cambel’s smile grew wider, and his teeth suddenly seemed to be too flawless and straight. Along with them? Oh, Philip. Still do you not get it? I am not in touch with them. Me are them. Like a mirage in the desert, her figure started to glitter as she spoke. Her fancy clothes and immaculate hair disappeared into light and geometric patterns that looked awful straight-forward.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

Philip held his ground as the survivors responded in terror, even though he struggled to understand what he was seeing. “How have you managed Cambel?” he insisted, knowing the response in part but not exactly. The laughter of Cambel seemed to be resonant simultaneously on several frequencies. “Cambel was us, Philip. a long-standing seed waiting for the proper moment to blossom from long ago. As the thing spoke, tendrils of light started to slink through the bunker walls via the fissures.

The air itself seemed to bend and twist, and reality seemed to change beneath the weight of something outside human comprehension. As though it were reacting to the alien’s presence, Amelia’s sketchbook pulsed against Philip’s breast.

He removed it and watched in wonder as the pages started to radiate brilliantly, the shifting patterns serving as a counterpoint to the alien geometry growing in scope.

The inhuman Cambel-entity stared at the book with a flickering of something like dread. that murmured, “What does it mean?” connecting with a ring of light. Philip grabbed the sketchbook hard when he abruptly understood it was their only hope. It’s Amelia, he added, his voice growing louder. And she is retaliating. The sketchbook’s patterns seemed to answer his words in a breathtaking show of light and color.

Their interwoven with the external computations created a whirl of competing genuine factors. Two incomprehensible forces collided and the bunker erupted in a thunderous roar.

Philip and the other survivors gathered close and stared in wonder and horror as the planet they knew seemed to be disintegrating. Among the whirling patterns in the middle of the anarchy Philip sensed something or someone. For a fleeting instant, he saw Amelia’s face; her eyes locked with a ferocious will. Then everything went dark at that last, ear-parting split.