Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  “What are you doing here? They’ll see you. There are cameras everywhere.”

  “We’re getting you out,” Zanzi said. “Don’t worry about the cameras. Those have been taken care of.”

  “I can’t go anywhere. They’ll just track me down again.”

  Zanzi took Josie’s hand. “Listen,” she said softly, “we think we can end all this. All of it. Do you want to avenge Harriet, or keep helping these psychopathic assholes?”

  Josie pulled her hand away. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “We all have a choice. This is the most important one of your life. All those bad decisions you made. This can atone for all of it.”

  Lahm slumped against the door and slid to the floor. “I don’t know myself anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do this. Come with us. For Harriet, and the billions of other lives that have been stolen.”

  Whatever Josie said next was drowned out by alarms, old-fashioned bells, clanging. They were loud at first, but the decibels diminished as the seconds dragged on.

  “Shit,” Ebony said. She stepped over to Adam’s body and shoved her hand inside his stomach cavity to pull the plastic bag free. “Someone must’ve seen us.”

  “It’s just a test. The guards have been playing around with the fire alarms, trying to get them to work without setting off the sprinklers,” Lahm said hesitantly as if she wasn’t sure.

  “That’s stupid,” Zanzi said.

  “We need to go,” Ebony said. She opened the blood-coated plastic bag and threw Zanzi one of the Glocks and a spare magazine. Next, she grabbed Josie by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “You can contemplate later; right now, you’re coming with us. Now, where’s the morgue?”

  Josie gestured to a set of doors on the opposite side of the lab. “Through there and to the right.”

  The alarm died as boots thumped down the corridors.

  “Hurry,” Zanzi said. She lifted her weapon and shoved open the adjoining door. She gasped at what she saw.

  The room beyond was just as brightly lit, but considerably cooler, almost fridge-like. Rows of metal gurneys, three deep and wide, lined the space. Most had sheets covering human forms, while some were empty. But there was a cluster of gurneys near the middle of the room that were uncovered, next to a workbench that housed a computer and surgical equipment. Rabids lay on these gurneys in varying stages of autopsy examination. The one nearest Zanzi was on its stomach, skin peeled back so that its spine and ribs were exposed. The back of its skull had been removed. Zanzi could clearly see the half-formed cluster of nanites, looking for all the world like half a crab, complete with spiny legs, entering the brain. And, like the tick-shaped nanite she had seen through her microscope all those days ago, these were a charcoal color.

  “What the hell have you been up to?” Zanzi said.

  “Trying to figure out what causes the Rabids,” Josie said flatly.

  Another Rabid lay on its back, head removed, and muscle and tissue pulled away from the spine. Another, with a sheet covering its body, had its skull sawn in half. The brain sat in a metal dish next to the head.

  The doors to the lab behind them banged open. “Doctor, where are you?”

  Josie jumped, looked at Zanzi and Ebony and pointed at two empty gurneys. “Quick. On there,” she whispered.

  There was no time to argue. No other way. They had to hope Josie didn’t expose them. Without another word, Zanzi lay down on the cold metal table and Josie covered her with a sheet.

  “In here,” Josie said once both Zanzi and Ebony were covered.

  Seconds later, the doors slammed open and boots slapped on the concrete floor. “You didn’t hear the alarms?” said a voice. Zanzi presumed it belonged to a Black Skull.

  “I did. I’m much too busy with my work, though. Is it a fire or another one of your tests?”

  “Yes, it’s a test, but the evacuation drill. Remember? I told you yesterday.”

  “Mullens, as I explained to you before, my work is extremely important. I’m under direct orders from Killian to perform these autopsies and figure out the reason for the rabid behavior. For the last time, kindly stop interrupting me with petty drills. I’m a doctor, not one of your soldiers.”

  “Fine. Sorry for caring about your wellbeing,” Mullens said, and snorted. “That dead guy smells ripe.”

  “Yes, I know. He’s in the next room. Gunshot to the jaw.”

  “What happened to the two females covered in blood?”

  Josie let out an audible sigh and dropped something with a crash. “Really? Why would I know, Mullens? Now please, let me work. I still have all this data to log.”

  The Black Skull’s feet scuffed next to Zanzi. She held her breath, willing him to move on.

  “Umm, about that drink, Doctor, how about tomorrow?”

  “Yes, what? Oh, fine. If it means leaving me to my work, then yes.”

  The Black Skull loitered around for another minute until Josie shooed him away. That was all they needed, a lovesick soldier hanging around.

  Josie pulled the sheets off Zanzi and Ebony. “Through there.” She pointed at a stainless steel door with an old-fashioned refrigerator handle.

  As she opened it, Mullens returned, banging back into the autopsy lab. “Lahm, what time…”

  Zanzi drew her weapon as she spun around, but Ebony was faster. Much faster. She leapt across the space and throat-punched him with a quick jab. Mullens clutched his throat and dropped to his knees. Zanzi stared in shock. Not at Mullens gasping for breath, but at Ebony’s speed and proficiency. It was inhuman. Ryan had mentioned they had found Ebony in Yamada’s lab. She snapped back to the present as Ebony twisted Mullens’s neck, breaking it, and pushed him to one side.

  They hurried through the steel door and into the darkened hallway beyond. Automatic lights blinked on. The smell of ammonia and chemicals hung in the air as Josie led the way.

  At the end of the hallway, they entered the morgue which, like the autopsy lab, was frigid, so cold that Zanzi could see her breath. Three of the walls contained slide-out drawers, and at the back was a fire exit, the doors painted bright red with a quick release bar. Zanzi hurried to it and cursed when she spotted the two large padlocks jammed into the mechanism. She wiggled them as she scanned the room for something to break the locks but came up short. Ebony grabbed one and tried to rip it off. The release bar sagged but held.

  “Why would you lock a fire escape?” she muttered.

  “That’s why they’re doing the drills,” Josie said, shaking her head. “To get everyone going where they want them to. Pity if you’re in here.”

  “Dammit,” Zanzi said. She knocked lightly on the door. “Ryan, can you hear us,” she said, as loud as she dared.

  “We can hear you. What’s the hold up?”

  “Fire escape is locked.”

  “What the hell? Okay. Go to the south side and up one floor. We’ll cause a distraction while you sneak out.”

  “Got it.”

  “You’re doing great, Zanzi. Keep focused.”

  Zanzi turned to Josie. “Which way to get upstairs?”

  “Back, and then into the main corridor. There’s a stairwell opposite the ER, next to the elevators.”

  They went out into the corridor and retraced their steps to the autopsy room. Ebony disarmed Mullens, heaved his body onto a gurney and covered it with a sheet. They didn’t have long to wait for Ryan’s distraction. Gunfire erupted, echoing down the hospital corridors. It sounded like it was coming from all directions. Some small bursts, others constant. Zanzi glanced through the small windows on the door, waiting for the response.

  Black Skulls burst out of rooms and down the stairs. Some were dressed and ready, while others were scrambling to pull on clothes and clip on gun belts. How many Black Skulls were posted here?

  “Clear,” Zanzi said.

  It was a short dash to the stairwell, maybe three meters, but it wasn’t enough. Luck, like anything, runs out. Zanzi had mad
e it to the first step, with Josie close behind, when the elevator doors pinged open, dispensing four heavily armed men.

  “What the fuck?” Zanzi said.

  Rifles swept up and Ebony launched herself at the men like a tight end going for the ball. The four Black Skulls crashed back inside the elevator, grunting and cursing. Ebony pivoted and sprinted up the stairs. Zanzi peeked over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time.

  So much for a Green Op sneak in and out.

  They burst through another set of double doors and Ebony wedged a fire hose through the handles. “That should slow them down,” Ebony said.

  They couldn’t see anyone on the first floor. Someone had tried to clean up the ash remains here, but some were still visible in the wards as outlines of those who had lain in the beds. The machines had been switched off. A couple of the wards had been converted into makeshift barracks, the Black Skulls having wheeled in extra beds and lined them up in neat rows.

  They hurried on as the same four men burst from the elevator.

  “Go!” Zanzi shouted, urging her legs into a sprint while praying their feeble barricade would give them enough time to escape. Movement in the last ward caught her eye. The doors had been shut and bolted at the top. Rabids. Dozens of them. They banged on the walls and slapped at the door as the gun fire whipped them into a frenzy.

  Zanzi skidded to halt and waved to Ebony. “Hold the fire escape open. I’ve got an idea.”

  She turned back and unbolted the first door. It shook and bent. Straining with the effort, Zanzi reached over and unbolted the last door. The weight of the Rabids pressed against the door, releasing them like a broken dam. They flooded into the corridor, tripping over each other, then scrambling up, heads jolting, looking for their next meal.

  Zanzi didn’t wait around to see what was going to happen. She sprinted through the fire escape and down the stairs following Ebony and Josie.

  Nineteen

  Portland, Oregon

  Milo shifted in the armchair he had pulled up to the third-floor window. It was early morning, and the streets were as quiet as they had been since curfew. Milo stretched and rolled his shoulders. Even with all the high-grade nanites, he still got tense. It suggested to him that the nanites were only programmed to repair damaged tissue and cells, not to stop fatigue.

  Were tense muscles caused by damage? He shrugged and looked back down at the empty streets, his thoughts turning to his orders. Offenheim had instructed him to locate Daniel Kummerow and return him to The Eyrie. The first part had been easy. Milo had made it his objective to learn everything he could about all OPIS’s top scientists and executive staff. His time as a Stasi operative had taught him to always be prepared, and to know everything about your staff. Through a series of private investigators, he had learnt of Kummerow’s cabin tucked away in Idaho.

  For the first time in his life, Milo had lied to Offenheim when he said he hadn’t located the scientist. Milo needed the brilliant coder to exact his revenge. His wife Amelia’s death at the hands of Offenheim had changed something in Milo. The rigid belief he’d had in OPIS had melted away alongside her life. For the first time since he was a boy, Milo saw things clearly. And he didn’t like what he found. He had become the very thing he had rebelled against.

  He shut his eyes, remembering that awful day, over forty years ago now, when the body of his sister, Eva, swayed in the breeze on the end of the hangman’s rope. Her body, rotting in the sun, being picked at by crows. He had failed twice now to protect the women he loved. Now he had no one.

  But what he did have was hope. He had seen it in LK3 and what they did. What they fought so hard for. To protect not only the people they loved, but humanity.

  Milo pushed his thoughts aside and glanced at the other occupant in the room. “Daniel?”

  “What? I’m working.”

  “Is it ready?”

  “You interrupted me for that? I told you. When I’ve finished the coding, I’ll tell you.”

  Milo raised an eyebrow and sighed. He made a show of removing his knife and twirling it in his fingers. Daniel Kummerow, a former OPIS coder, was helping him to deactivate the tracking ability of his alpha nanite. Offenheim and Daniel thought they had been secretive in their project, but Milo had access to the servers. All the servers. He took another look at the empty street in case The Nameless had returned from wherever they had gone to, before crossing the room to its third occupant – Daniel’s wife. Milo had duct-taped her feet and hands and had to gag her when she wouldn’t stopped yelling.

  He sighed again and stabbed her above the right knee. Tears ran down her cheeks, accentuating her muffled screams. “Do we have to go through this every time, Daniel? I don’t want to hurt your wife; I just want you to answer my questions. Am I clear?”

  “Okay. Fuck. I’m not used to working like this.”

  Milo twisted the blade, earning more muffled screams. He pulled out the knife and sliced some of her hair off, then walked over to Daniel and released the hair to float down onto Daniel’s keyboard.

  Daniel stopped typing and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Please, just let her go so she can go back to the cabin. To our children.”

  Milo stabbed his knife down hard, narrowly missing Daniel’s hand. “Forty years I’ve given that man. Forty years, and he killed my wife in front of me as if she was a pesky mosquito. He didn’t even have the decency to approach me and voice his accusations.”

  “Please. It’s not an easy program. I just need more time.”

  Milo scoffed. “When I was your age, I was rotting in an East German prison. Do you want the same for your family?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Milo softened his tone. “What about the other names I gave you? Can you switch them off?”

  “Yes. I want to reiterate that once I turn off the tracking, Offenheim will presume you’re dead because the nanites use us as their power source. You’ll have an hour, tops, before he comes looking for your corpse.”

  “I’m aware of that. I have a plan.”

  Daniel rubbed his eyes. “I’ve only done this once before. My team designed the elite alpha nanites to block updates, but I wrote a back door in for changes. Offenheim insisted.”

  “Who did you do it to before?” Milo asked as he tucked away his blade.

  “Amelia,” Daniel said, his head dropping to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  Milo considered hitting him to release some of the anger, but he had to put aside his emotions for now. “Get back to work.”

  “Can I check my Annie first?”

  Milo turned and looked back out into the empty street and the shops across from them. He waved his hand dismissively.

  Daniel nodded a thank you and checked his wife’s wound. The nanites did nothing for pain, and to the sadistic they opened new and exciting opportunities for torture. Sadists like Alba. The nanites had been a gift to her, giving her free rein to maim and cause pain, repeatedly.

  Milo watched in the reflection of the window as Daniel gently caressed Annie’s cheek.

  “All I want is to atone for my sins,” Milo said returning to his chair.

  Daniel finished checking Annie and sat back down at his computer. “Something you need to do?”

  Milo chuckled. “Why do you think I brought you here and not to The Eyrie?”

  “You want to atone using me?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want any of this. I should have died years ago. OPIS offered me a second chance, but at what cost?” Milo gestured with his head out the window at the quiet, dark streets.

  Daniel coughed and spat, “Screw your atonement. Our children are alone in the cabin. Just let Annie go to them, please.”

  “They can look after themselves. I checked. There’s enough food there to last months.”

  “You’re an asshole,”

  Milo chuckled again. “I’m an asshole? I’m just a product of your work, Doctor. You, your wife, and all the others who created the nanites. Wh
o’s the biggest asshole? Frankenstein or Frankenstein’s monster?”

  Daniel coughed again and turned away, ignoring his last question.

  Milo was enjoying the debate. On the many lonely nights he had spent doing Offenheim’s dirty work, he had contemplated such questions.

  Was he the monster, or OPIS?

  Nights spent sitting in silence on musty beds. Days spent on the long open highways. Always, this thought stayed.

  Am I evil?

  “How did you end up working for OPIS?” Milo said, looking at Daniel.

  “Much like you. Offered an opportunity. Annie and I were part of a team at Caltech exploring nanites and the possibilities for their use in the medical field. As technology shrank, our field grew. OPIS, or ReinCorp, I should say, came to us and said they would provide us with unlimited funding if we came to work with them. Who wouldn’t? All our dreams of being at the forefront of a new and exciting field.”

  “But you ran?”

  “Of course. We had no idea what they had planned until it was too late to change anything of significance. I tried. Those freaks were the result. I didn’t have enough time. Those with the older nanites suffered.”

  Milo gawked. “You’re telling me those suckers are your fault?”

  “Not entirely, but yeah, mostly.”

  “And you guys call me an asshole?”

  Milo’s heart thumped harder. He had once been certain that the combusting was right. That it was for a just cause. Too many people, too many problems, too far gone. Everywhere he turned, he had seen the reasons why. But now his heart beat a different rhythm. He saw how wrong he had been. He saw how, no matter how much bad there was in the world, he had to fight with everything he had for the good.

  “Can you rectify it?” Milo said.

  “It’s too late now. With the right people, I could program a data burst and give the suckers a merciful end.”

  “Then you will. Once you’ve made me and my friends invisible to Offenheim, you’re going to atone for your own sins, Doctor Kummerow.”