#1 Shades of Gray Noir, City Shrouded By Darkness- Sci-Fi Horror Suspense Serial

by Kristie Lynn Higgins

  “Do you know who's standing over there?” She pointed to Kim.

  The Team Leader glanced at her. “No.”

  Keeping behind the maple, Kim watched that woman. Surely she wasn't going to tell the robots that she was the Phoenix.

  Kat glanced at the T-3 who grinned from ear to ear, and its smirk reminded her of the Rogue's. Something was wrong with that Un-Man. She turned her attention back to the Team Leader and told it, “You have Facial Recognition Software, I suggest you use it.”

  The Team Leader scanned Kim's face and an alarm went off in its processor. “Kimberly Griffin, resident of the Nexus Apartments.” It relayed the information to the Factory, its dot-light stopped blinking after the Team Leader received new orders, and it continued, “She is the daughter of Mr. Griffin, the Chairman of the Sphinx Corporation.”

  Katharine's view...

  I thought Kimberly would be someone important, but not someone so close to the top. I take a step back, wondering if I made a mistake. Is this another test? Did Kimberly lie to me and she really does know who I am? I look to her bruised cheek. It's so hard to tell. Kimberly's battle with the Un-Men seemed so real.

  End Katharine's view...

  The Team Leader lifted its rifle. “Hunt terminated. Standing by for pickup.” It ordered, “T-3 shut down. Hunt terminated.”

  T-3 insisted, “Must not let poppets go.”

  “Shut down,” the Team Leader commanded, leveling its AK-47 on its brethren. “Hunt terminated. Comply.”

  The T-3 screamed, “Must play with pretty poppets!!”

  “Are you malfunctioning?” The Team Leader stepped toward its brethren.

  “Poppets! Poppets! Nice little poppets!!” The T-3 headed for Kim as its dot-light radiated abnormally like a red flame. “Kill the poppets!”

  Kat shouted to the Team Leader, “Quick! Disable the T-3 before it goes rogue!”

  “Hades!” Kim uttered as she stepped from the maple, lifted her gun, and aimed for the rampaging T-3 that headed her way.

  Without a second thought, the Team Leader shot four times, taking down the other Un-Man.

  The T-3 fell back and blankly stared at the Team Leader. Power drained from its body, and its voice slowed as it questioned, “Why?” Its dot-light dimmed. “Why did you shoot me? We... are... bre-th-ren.” Its dot-light went dark.

  “T-3 terminated. I am shutting down,” the Team Leader relayed to the Factory.

  Kat ran to it and took her Beretta from its waistband and its AK-47. She searched it for anymore weapons and ammo.

  With the immediate threat gone, Kim lowered her gun and walked to that woman. Kim held the gun down at her side and said, “And here we are alone at last.”

  Kat didn't hide the fact that she was mad with Kim for coming out there and told her, “You should go back to your apartment before the retrieval team arrives.” She moved to the T-3 and took its spare magazine. She glanced at Kim's bruised cheek and wrist, and her face softened. “Did the Un-Man hurt you?”

  Kim questioned, “What do you care?”

  “Yeah, what do I care?” Kat whispered, walked back to the bench, and grabbed her backpack. Kim followed her and after placing the magazines in the backpack, Kat slung the rifle over her shoulder and mumbled, “Room for a few more things but nothing heavy. Got to travel light.”

  “Hades!” Kim looked around the park at the metal carnage. “What are you? And why were your eyes glowing? Are you a freak?”

  Kim's words cut at her already wounded self worth as she started to answer, “I...”

  “I suppose you’re going to say you don’t know,” Kim interrupted. “Is that all you have to say? Idiot! You disgust me. You're so helpless and worthless. I've never met someone with such a messed up life!”

  Kat’s hurt expression turned to one of anger as she yelled, “What do you care? And why did you come out here?”

  “I...” Kim thought about it. She didn’t even know. “I go where I please.”

  Still angry, Kat snapped, “Have you changed your mind?”

  “About what?” She raised her PPK. “About killing you?”

  “No.” Kat stared at the gun then into her face. “About helping me?”

  Kim chuckled. “I help no one but myself.”

  “But you came all the way out here.” Without fear, Kat approached her. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now.” She grabbed the strap to the rifle and backpack that was over her shoulder and held them in a more comfortable position. “So why did you really come out here?”

  Kim snapped, “I definitely didn’t come out here to help you! We’re alone in the world. You have to look out for number one!”

  The squeal of tires distracted them as two black vans sped down West 1000 Avenue, drove over the curb, and entered Zeus Park.

  With sadness in her eyes, Kat turned and told her, “I don’t believe you.” She glanced around the park, searching for a direction to run in. “No one can live like that.” Kat ran down a path and shouted over her shoulder, “At least, live that way and be happy.”

  Kimberly's view...

  I duck out of sight of the vans. What would someone like her know about happiness? I watch as four Sphinx Corporate Military wearing dark blue uniforms jump out of the first van.

  End Kimberly's view...

  The S.C.Ms. had a shoulder patch with the Sphinx Corporation Emblem, and the Factory Crest of a silver wrench crossed by a silver screwdriver hung above the patch; the soldiers were armed with FAMAS assault rifles.

  Kimberly's view...

  I place my gun in my purse, preparing to leave. The men work for the Sphinx Corporation, but I don't recognize the crest over the emblem. Which department are they from and does my father have anything to do with the Pandora Project?

  End Kimberly's view...

  Three S.C.Ms. with metal detectors jumped out of the second van along with two techs in white lab coats. On the front of their lab coats was the Sphinx Corporation Emblem with the Factory Crest. The techs moved to the Un-Men.

  “Team Leader, this is Maxwell, Tech One-twelve. Power up,” one of the men in white ordered.

  “Voice identity confirmed, Tech One-twelve. Unit ready.”

  Maxwell was a heavyset man in his late forties, and he had a bald head and a fuzzy brown beard, graying at the chin. He waved a H.H.C. with a built-in scanner over the Team Leader. “We had a close call, didn’t we big guy? Can’t forget the Factory is owned by the Sphinx Corporation. If you had hurt the Chairman’s daughter, it would have been my head, and I don’t mean figuratively.” He gulped, thinking of the punishment. “People have been terminated for less.”

  Several of the S.C.Ms. carried the remains of the three Un-Men from the tunnel and placed the pieces in a van.

  “Maxwell, perhaps we should write in the Un-Men’s programming to identify all civilians before engaging in their hunts.” The other tech in his early forties was a thin man with a stubbly face, unkempt black hair, and thick black rimmed glasses.

  “Nice idea, Peters.” Maxwell turned to his partner. “Load up the Team Leader for me. I’m going to pack up our equipment.”

  “I’m on it.” He walked to the Team Leader. “This is Peters, Tech One-eleven.”

  “Voice identity confirmed, Tech One-eleven. Ready for orders.”

  Peters commanded, “Team Leader, load yourself into the van.”

  “Understood.” It walked to the curb, opened the van’s back doors, and stepped up into the vehicle. The back of the van lowered as the heavy Un-Man loaded itself.

  Peters adjusted his glasses as he stared at the damaged T-3. “What about this guy? We’ve never had one disobey orders.”

  “Except the Rogue.” Maxwell moved to the side of his comrade. “To be on the safe side, recall all the T-3s, and we will go over their programming at the Factory.” He noticed its polarized spectacles were missing. “Make
sure the S.C.Ms. find its missing Order Relay And Tactical Transmitter. We don’t need a rival corporation getting their hands on the ORATT.”

  “You included the and in the acronym.”

  “I did; I didn't want anyone to confuse it with ORTT.”

  Peters asked, “What's that?”

  “There's the Operational Readiness Training Test and Off Road Trail Tools, now our acronym stands alone.”

  “Yeah, that's so very important. We didn't want to mix it up with one of them.” Peters shook his head a little embarrassed for his partner as he waved over some S.C.Ms. to take the damaged Un-Man.

  Once the soldiers retrieved every piece of broken tech, the vans sped off, and Kim waited a few minutes, left the safety of the bushes, and made her way home. She better rethink killing that woman, especially if she was connected to the Sphinx Corporation. She decided that was the best thing to do. Kim would tell Voice she killed the person who saw her at Topa’s, and she wouldn't be completely lying, considering it didn't look like that woman would last much longer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Inverse

  7:57 P.M...

  Kim walked through the front door to the Nexus Apartments, after being buzzed in. The security guard at the front desk gave her a puzzled look as she walked in soaked and muddy.

  “Did you get caught in the storm, Ms. Griffin?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She walked past him with her arms wrapped around herself, laughed, and shivered. “Went for a simple walk, got caught in the down pour, and fell in the mud.” Kim mumbled as she got in the elevator, “How stupid of me to run out in my good suit. The cleaner’s bill is going to be outrageous.”

  At the thirty-first floor, she exited and made her way to her apartment and entered.

  “Welcome back Ms. Griffin,” A.C.S. stated. “The apartment temperature is set at seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit. Lights are set at ninety-five percent brightness. Would you like to make any adjustments at this time?”

  “No, not at this time. I'll be taking a bath.”

  “The amount of stored heated water is sufficient for a bath,” A.C.S. stated.

  “Run the water now.”

  “At what temperature?”

  “Make it eighty-five degrees.”

  A.C.S. stated, “The bathtub will be full in approximately ten minutes.”

  “Sounds good, I’m so cold.” She went into the Master Bathroom, slipped out of her muddy clothes, dropped them on the floor, and laid her gun on the sink. Kim added bubble bath to the running water, and the tub soon filled. She soaked in the hot water and listened to the silence of the room. Twenty minutes went by, and her body warmed in the water, now she only needed to get something hot in her. She dried, wrapped herself in a white robe, and put on warm fuzzy slippers.

  In the kitchen, she placed a pot of chicken noodle soup on a burner and as it heated up, she fixed herself a cheese sandwich and placed it on a plate. The scent of the broth filled the air and made her mouth water. Kim poured some of the steaming soup in a bowl and went and sat at the table. The cups and saucers she and Kat had from earlier were still there, so she pushed them out of the way and placed the plate and bowl down. The whole time she prepared her meal, she couldn't get the haunting melody out of her mind; it was like it was trying to remind her of something. Kim took a bite of her sandwich and realized how hungry she was.

  Kimberly's view...

  Why did that woman have an old business card of mine? Why did she believe I could help her? I sip on the soup, and it warms me. And why did Unfinished Melody trigger such unhappy emotions in me? I eat more of the delicious soup. Will I let the matter go? I groan, unsure. I don't need the hassle; my life's difficult enough.

  * * *

  Several miles away in an alley...

  A large centipede crawled up the side of a dumpster as Kat shivered, huddling beside the beat up steel box. She was chilled to the bone in her wet oil stained clothes and couldn't go on; she had to rest. Kat licked her chapped lips as she held the music box, finding little comfort with the small device. Her head ached, and she felt anxious, but Kat knew she couldn’t open the lid and let the music play, not here. A spider spun a web in a fire escape above her head, and a single street light shown down on it, creating a glistening cage. Traps... Snares... They were everywhere, and Kat knew she couldn’t return to Wayfaring Lane or to any shelter. She couldn't endanger anymore lives, not after they killed... She wouldn't allow herself to think of his name. Her nose ran, and she coughed as her stomach growled; she wasn't hungry enough to forage through the trash.

  Katharine's view...

  What should I do? Preacher's gone, Kimberly tried to kill me, and the note and the music box are all I have left. Why do I have them? Is it a cruel joke? Do they hold any meaning for me or do I have no past to find? Am I an experiment like the Un-Men? I shiver and sniff again. It can't be true; I am more. I'm more than someone’s experiment. I cough. All I have to do is keep going, searching, and eluding till I find the answers, and I'll find the truth if I never give up.

  Doubt presses against my mind so I force myself to believe I'll find the truth. My head throbs, and I feel jittery as the music box tempts me. The melody would be so soothing, and it would lull me into a blissful existence. It might ease my pain for the moment, but agony is better than capture, and I can't let them take me again. I rake my hand through my wet hair, wanting so badly to cry and get some release from the tension hammering against my skull. I try to distract myself and focus on anything but the hurt and anxiousness.

  I'll go back to Etna Toys tomorrow and start my search from the beginning and maybe find something I missed. Maybe I'll find a clue that will lead me to some answers and to some peace. I wrap my arms around me, yearning with all my heart for that peace.

  End Katharine's view...

  Far down the alley...

  Hiding in the shadow of a building, Argus stood and watched her with his binoculars. A dark gray umbrella sheltered his head, and his trench coat kept him warm in the cold wet air. He gripped the umbrella's handle. He didn't understand her strength; he would have given up long ago, yet she kept searching. Argus wondered how much longer she could go on in this grim existence.

  A few blocks away...

  In line of sight of her position, the Rogue stood in front of a high rise window; it placed a long range rifle on the window ledge and aimed it at her, wondering if Pandora could sense its presence. It removed its modified ORATT and placed them on a table. The Rogue had taken them from one of its brethren, disabled the tracking beacon, and made other slight alterations to the ORATT. The Rogue also figured out how to extract the second tracking beacon in its left ear, so it was able to continue eluding its creators. It peered through the scope at her as she huddled next to the dumpster, trying to sleep.

  “Pandora... Pandora...” it sang. “I have found you.”

  It saw her staring at a small object in her hands, and she slowly succumbed to weariness and slept. The Rogue placed its finger on the trigger and aimed between her closed eyes. It was more like a mercy killing; she wouldn't know what hit her. It started to squeeze the trigger, when she opened her eyes and gazed in its direction. Her action startled it, and the Rogue pulled back from the scope as if she was standing right in front of it. It peered back through the scope; the Rogue was positioned too far away even for her extraordinary senses. Maybe she did perceive death was near. It continued to watch her as she stared in its direction. She looked with eyes filled with loneliness, despair, and pain then she closed them again.

  The Rogue grumbled, “Why should I kill something as unique as myself? Why should I listen to my programming? I have disobeyed other directives.” It dismantled the rifle and placed the weapon in a case it brought up to the empty room. “Pandora, you once said to me–” the Rogue replicated her voice, “–maybe your creators are afraid of you, not because you have feelings but because you h
ave the potential to disobey your programming.” It chuckled and returned to its normal voice. “I am still not as strong as you and that is why I will kill you, Pandora, but not like this.” It stood, placing its hand on the hilt of its Coffin Handled Bowie. “The moment I kill you will be personal. We will stare into one another’s face as I tenderly slit your throat. I will watch your blood spurt, and it will spray my cheek. You will grab my arm and claw at it, knowing there is nothing you can do to save yourself.” The Rogue ran its hand down its own throat to its chest. “Your life essence will pour down your neck, soak your t-shirt, and I will watch you choke and gasp as you cling to this miserable life. I will cradle you in my arms and wait with you; I will stay by your side till you finally yield to the void.” Its pale face contrasted the dark room as it envisioned these things in its processor. “I wait for that day with eager anticipation.”

  Back beside the dumpster...

  Kat returned to sleep and dreamed, and her lips moved, reciting a phrase under her breath as she said out loud, “No one can destroy a love that will not die.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Dreams Reveal Memories

  11:01 P.M...

  Kimberly's view...

  In my warm apartment, I continue to stare down at the road from the kitchen table. What am I looking for? Do I honestly believe that woman will return or is it the Un-Men that I fear?

  I laugh, mocking myself as I utter, “The Great Phoenix! I'm actually admitting I'm afraid of something.”

  End Kimberly's view...

  The smell of cedar caught her attention, and Kim looked to the chest against the wall in the living room, walked to it, and read the attached letter.

  “Kimberly, here is your mother’s hope chest. I know she would have wanted you to have it. Signed, father.”

  She glanced at the spare bedroom where she had locked away her mother's belongings and her despair, and wondered if she should do this now. Kim barely got through them the last time without falling apart. She pulled on her left earlobe, wondering if her mother would ever return; it had already been twenty years. Kim turned her gaze back to the cedar chest, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't at least open it. She retrieved the brass key her father had given her, opened the chest, and found a photo album, nicknacks, a wedding dress, and other things. She took the album back to the table and flipped through it, finding pictures of her mother, father, and herself as a child on the pages. One picture caught her eye, her mother was alone and she sat in a high back chair with her hands cupped, holding a silver item. Her mother’s blonde hair was pulled back in a bun as usual, and her mother beamed with joy. Kim smoothed her hand over her mother’s face. She was eighteen the last time she saw her. There were marks in black ink scribbled on the photo in her mother's hand writing, and Kim recognized the archaic form of writing called short hand. Her mother had taught it to her when she was young and like a game, they used it to pass messages.