Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  “Who said that?” Zanzi said.

  “Barko, Alba, the other people in white coats. I always believed everything they told me. I put up with the pain and the discomfort because I desperately wanted to go home. To my real home in Wisconsin, to see my friends again and play on the tire swing by the river.”

  “I’m sorry, Tilly. Those things never should have happened to you.”

  “I’m so afraid to go back to that place, but I know I must. I need to find my records and find out where my sister is.”

  “She was at The Eyrie too?”

  “For a while. Then they took her somewhere else.”

  “I’ll help you. Whatever it takes. Me and you, together, we’ll find those records,” Zanzi said. She had suspected that there was more to Tilly’s story. The young woman was growing more confident every day, showing her true strength of character.

  They hugged, holding each other for several moments, enjoying the comfort, the love, the shared bond they had. At length, they broke the embrace and headed inside the operations center.

  Twenty-Seven

  Ryan stood in front of the stacks of monitors. They showed a live feed of the valley where the satellite installation was situated. The Eyrie itself wasn’t visible, but Ryan had a perfect view of the only road leading in. It was mostly empty, apart from a semi-trailer lying on its side in one of the culverts. A lone trucker on his way with a delivery, a journey interrupted by madness. As he gathered his thoughts, Ryan glanced around at The Nameless. Cal, Sofia and Booth were all watching him, ready to take it all in, process the information and act accordingly. They had trained for this, done a thousand jobs before. Now they had their biggest mission yet.

  Zanzi, Tilly, Reid, Ebony, Sam the dog, and Allie. New, worthy additions. Lisa, a friend and mentor. Avondale, one of the smartest people he knew. Not only that but, humble and loyal. Keiko, thoughtful and analytical, just like her mother. Josie Lahm, whose daughter Harriet had alerted them to the pending crisis, wanted to atone for what she had helped create.

  Ryan considered them all to be part of the team now. Any sane person would run away and hide, not try to face down the organization responsible for the atrocities that had befallen the world over the last few weeks. But in difficult times, those willing to rise and fight against evil, no matter how bad the odds, were to his mind, the right ones to attempt it because they had the will to succeed. The Allies had faced down the might of Nazi Germany. Now it was LK3’s turn. Stand up, ignore the odds, and kill their enemies.

  “I never imagined I would be going back to this place, let alone for the reasons we’re going now.” Ryan paused and shuffled his notes. Avondale slid him the PowerPoint clicker and Ryan brought up the first photograph. “As you can see, this is an old satellite image of The Eyrie, taken about three years ago. Cal?”

  His wife used a laser pointer to indicate where she was talking about. “It’s mostly the same. OPIS has added a helicopter pad here, and additional communications aerials.” She moved the pointer, highlighting the main building. “The Eyrie is constructed like an iceberg. What you see here is just the tip. The main complex lies underground. At least ten floors down.”

  Reid raised his hand. “What’s in there?”

  “I never saw all of it. What I did see were labs, workshops, stores, armories and dorms. Enough that two hundred and fifty people could survive for years in there, cut off from the world. It has its own water supply. It has independent power, using both solar and hydro, so cutting the power is out.”

  Reid whistled and shook his head. “Why are we attacking it again?”

  Lisa pushed back her chair. “Because it’s the communications hub for North and South America. We shut this down, we stop OPIS operating in this part of the world.” Lisa stood, clasping her hands behind her. “Our science team here.” She pointed at Avondale, Sofia and Lahm. “They’ve figured a way to broadcast a command. A command that will hopefully take out all the guards, all the workers, anyone below elite level. Maybe even elite level if they have enough time. Using Cal’s information on how their hierarchy works, I’ve concluded that in doing so will render Offenheim vulnerable.”

  “Surely they’ve defended themselves against such an attack?” Reid said, his eyebrows raised.

  Ryan didn’t blame him for being skeptical. They had all been through so much, just to get to this point.

  “Exactly, Sergeant. Ryan will explain.”

  Ryan clicked the PowerPoint remote. The image behind him changed, showing the same road but at the other end of the valley. It was full of US Army vehicles, moving west toward The Eyrie. He turned and watched it for a few moments, observing as some of the vehicles from the convoy broke away and began assembling a camp. Machine guns were set up, barricades placed across the road. Defenses were dug in. President Ward’s troops come to guard Offenheim. He counted four helicopters moving through the valley too.

  “As you can see, any direct ground assault would come under heavy fire.” Ryan grinned. “But we have an advantage. They’ll be expecting another force like theirs. Tanks, armored vehicles, soldiers. Not individuals sneaking in. We split into three teams and do it the way The Nameless always has – in the shadows. In, cause havoc, and retreat.”

  Lisa handed out blue mission folders. “General Munroe is going to provide a distraction for us. Give these traitors something to worry about while we complete our mission.”

  “Offenheim will be expecting us,” Cal said.

  “I’m counting on it,” Lisa said. She jabbed her finger at one of the screens showing the Army setting up anti-aircraft guns. “Does anyone know what Ruperts are?”

  “Apart from being some fancy boy’s name? Nothing,” Booth said.

  Allie chuckled next to him and punched him lightly on the arm. “How did you get into spy school? You’re a dumbass. Ruperts were used during D-Day.”

  Lisa smiled. “Allie is correct. Ruperts were used by the Allies to fool the Germans into thinking the paratroopers were landing somewhere else. They were dummies dropped in by parachute. And we’re going to do the same. Munroe will scatter Ruperts all through the valley. Ryan.”

  Ryan stood again, gathering his thoughts. “Right. In front of you are your assigned teams and missions. Alpha team is me, Cal, Booth, Zanzi and Tilly. OPIS jams outside signals, so our job is to destroy their ability to do so. Then Control, which is Avondale, Keiko and Lahm, can broadcast our knockout command. This must be completed before the reset of wave two. Beta team – Allie and Reid – will be waiting to extract us and give air support if needed. Allie, I need you to select a suitable position.”

  Allie acknowledged that she understood.

  Ryan coughed before continuing. “Sigma team, led by Lisa and Sofia, will kayak down the river, climb the cliffs to the satellite field, and set charges.”

  “I’ll need to align one of the dishes to receive Avondale’s signal before we blow anything,” Sofia said.

  Ryan stared at the images on the screen. “In that case, Alpha team will protect you. Are you certain their jammers are here on the main roof?” Ryan highlighted the structure.

  “Hundred percent,” Sofia confirmed.

  For a moment, Ryan could be forgiven for thinking all was normal, that The Nameless were planning a normal infiltration, not preparing for a last-gasp effort to stop Offenheim. “Ebony has agreed to stay here with Sam and guard against any potential threats. I have no doubt that the Black Skulls are still hunting us.”

  Ryan plonked back down in his chair and let out a slow breath. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt so nervous about a mission. Maybe nervous wasn’t the right word to describe the sense of impending doom. It was like he was on Death Row the night before his execution and everyone was watching, waiting for him to breakdown. Maybe it was the memories he had of The Eyrie. Of Offenheim’s smirk as he and Cal were cornered on that roof. Of their desperate dive into the churning river. Of his helplessness as his wife was torn from his grasp and washed away. />
  Yes, she was back by his side, but like a ship of fools, they were returning.

  Lahm cleared her throat, her eyes darting around. “I…” She hiccupped. “Avondale and I think we have solved the tracking issue. The alpha nanites attached to our brains use a system like modern smartphones. I’m certain that we have isolated the correct code. Now all we need to do is figure out a way to change it without affecting anything else.”

  “Keep at it and liaise with Doctor Monica Johnson at Fort Lewis. We need everyone working together. She needs to update Munroe and everyone to elite status,” Lisa said.

  Lahm nodded, but said nothing further.

  “Good. We all know what’s at stake.” Lisa shoved back her chair and jumped up, gesturing to the images on the screen. “You know what we’re up against. Never in all my years did I think I would be fighting fellow Americans. But that’s our reality now. Maybe these troops are innocent and just following orders. If you have doubts, like I do, you must push them aside. Not only is the future of the United States at risk, but that of the world. Offenheim is just one of four. This is everything we’ve trained for. One week. We have one week to prepare. Team leaders, I’ll leave it up to you to train your own members. Make good use of your time because if we fail…” Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know. If we fail, they win. They get their warped version of humanity.”

  Ryan stood and saluted. He was joined by the other members of The Nameless. And one by one, the new additions saluted too.

  “For the many,” Ryan said.

  “For the many,” everyone repeated. Maybe it was cliched, but the often-spoken motto galvanized the team.

  Ryan beamed as he looked around. Some were hardened professionals while others could hardly shoot a gun, but they all wanted the same thing: to save humanity.

  Twenty-Eight

  Lake Timothy, Oregon

  Milo smashed his fist over and over into the windshield of the Ford Escalade. Harder and harder, until the glass was opaque from the thousands of tiny cracks. Every bone in his right hand was broken, but he ignored the pain, slamming it into the glass until it was a bloody mess.

  Track them, Offenheim had instructed. If they separate, follow the director.

  Easier said than done. LK3 were no amateurs. They had left the safe house in several vehicles and changed them regularly. Milo had taken a gamble and tracked the minivan. Now he was in the Oregon wilderness, overlooking a summer camp. He had crept in under the cover of darkness and found only children. Children, sleeping soundly in their cabins like they really were on camp. He didn’t kill the kids. Nor the four adults looking after them. He smashed the windshield one more time.

  “How are you going to drive now?” a voice said from the back seat. Daniel Kummerow. Annie was next to him, bound and gagged.

  Milo turned and snarled at Daniel. “How about I shove your head through and you shout me directions.”

  “I’ve seen some tempers, but yours is a doozy.”

  Milo ignored him and kicked a hole through the shattered glass with his leather boots. He kept kicking until he could see enough of the road. Grunting, he started the SUV and headed north toward Portland. Common sense told him to return to the last spot he had seen the director and then figure out what to do after that.

  “Keep working on that program,” Milo said.

  “I’m finished,” Daniel said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Daniel held his finger above the keyboard. “Do you want me to do it?”

  “Yes.” Milo pulled over, stopping on the shoulder of the road.

  Daniel pressed the button.

  Nothing happened at first. Then agonizing pain erupted behind Milo’s eyeballs before spreading over his skull. Just as suddenly as it had started, it ceased. Clarity returned.

  Milo blinked, trying to rid his eyes of grit. “What the hell was that?”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention the excruciating pain part? I could have left it on for longer,” Daniel said.

  Milo growled. A deep growl, full of anger and menace. His patience with Daniel had run out. Lightning fast, he turned and jabbed the man with a quick right. It connected with Daniel’s jaw and knocked him out. He hurriedly checked the man’s pulse to make sure he hadn’t accidentally killed him. It was steady under his fingers. Annie began squirming and shouting something through her gag. Milo tasered her a few times until she was still. He needed some peace and quiet so that he could figure out his next move.

  The four hours it took Milo to drive back to where LK3 had separated went by in a blur, his mind a whir of conflicting thoughts. For the last forty years, his sole focus had been on helping Offenheim with any little problems he had. The problems were always people. Some he killed, others he silenced. Investigators, police and FBI that got too close. OPIS scientists that suddenly grew a conscience and tried to run. He’d tracked them all. Some he killed with his favored blades; others, he made it look like an accident. A house destroyed by a gas explosion. A vehicle sliding off the road. A mugging gone bad. Killing someone was easy. Getting rid of the bodies was the hard part. Again, OPIS had provided the means. Cremation was the preferred method, and through hundreds of shell companies, they owned dozens of crematoriums.

  The streets were quiet as he made his way into the small town of Boring. Looking around, Milo couldn’t see why the founders had named it that. Sure, it was small, but it was nestled amongst hills and mountains. Lots of wilderness areas to explore. Maybe at the time, in the 1800s, that was considered boring. No theatres to watch a play or musical, no concert halls, no opera. A dream for today’s cluttered world, but not for the first European settlers making their way west.

  He pulled over when he spotted another SUV. It had come to a rest on the side of the road at an odd angle. Milo checked to see if the battery was okay, brushed the ash remains from the driver’s seat and said a prayer he remembered from long ago, apologizing for disturbing the victim’s resting spot. As he turned back to transfer Daniel and his wife to the new vehicle, he heard an engine roar up the road. It was close, coming from the other side of a lumber yard. He checked his weapons and shut both his and the new vehicle’s doors before ducking out of sight.

  Milo didn’t have to wait long. Three beige Humvees, each with M240s poking out the back, soon turned into the street, a man dressed in black fatigues manning the machine guns. He recognized them immediately, Black Skulls, as LK3 called them. The question was, what were they doing all the way out here? As far as he knew, they were only meant to be patrolling Portland.

  As they drew closer, he walked out into the middle of the road, arms hanging loose at his sides. The lead Humvee eased to a stop, the M240 trained on him. But the gunner didn’t utter a word. Milo waited silently as the passenger doors opened and three M4s pointed in his direction.

  One of the occupants moved forward to stand in front of Milo. “Sir, we’ve been ordered to bring you in.”

  “Gentlemen, you’re a long way from Portland,” Milo said.

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t ‘sir’ me. Get back in your vehicle. I’m running an operation and I don’t need you messing it up.”

  Another passenger moved forward to stand next to the first. “That’s the guy,” he murmured. His voice was low, but Milo’s superior hearing caught every word.

  He was used to this kind of reaction. People talk. Gossip gets around. The Black Skulls were no different. He was Offenheim’s assassin. What was different was the way these commandos were acting. Normally they said hello and let him pass. Apparently not this time.

  “Is there a problem?” Milo said. “Any disruption would make our boss unhappy.”

  “Yeah, there is a problem,” the first man said. “We were sent to look for you.”

  “Well, you found me.”

  “And that’s the problem.”

  Milo took a step forward. The Black Skulls tensed as one, and rifles followed his step. “Look. I don’t have time for games. You know who I am
. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  A third passenger exited the vehicle and took up a covering position. The two other Humvees moved up, one moving behind Milo to fence him in. He let it happen. He was confident his skills would get him out. If he kept away from the M240, he would survive.

  The first passenger spoke. “Call went out three hours ago to search this area. Milo Ragalla is either dead or gone rogue. Our orders were clear: find out either way.”

  “You can see for yourself, gentlemen, that I’m neither dead nor gone rogue.” Milo glanced at the SUV with the shattered windshield parked a few meters away, praying that Daniel and Annie were still unconscious and wouldn’t give him away.

  “We’re to bring you in,” the first Black Skull was saying.

  “On whose orders?”

  “Parker’s.”

  “I answer to one man and one man only. Offenheim.” Milo slid his hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone. “Why don’t we call…”

  The Black Skulls, wound tighter than a piano wire, opened fire.

  Milo dropped to the ground, taking several bullets to his arms and legs. He rolled away, sprang up, and leaped behind a crashed delivery truck. More rounds followed him. Chips of concrete and chunks of earth flew into the air.

  It all happened in less than three seconds.

  The reason Milo preferred knives to guns was that a blade in the right spot forced the victim to take the time to remove it. He popped up and sprinted for the next vehicle. Knives flashing, he struck two of the Black Skulls in the throat. More knives flew, striking commandos in wrists and legs. He kept running, zigzagging and throwing knives.

  The M240s roared to life, punching holes in the abandoned cars as if they were cardboard. Milo ran down into a culvert and into the lumber yard. The Humvees spun, tires screeching, and gave chase. On the far side of the piles of wood, Milo spotted what he was looking for – a vehicle with a bit of grunt. The late-model Dodge Challenger was parked next to one of the giant saws, the trunk open. Grinning, Milo jumped in and gunned the engine. The throaty V8 turned, roaring as if begging to be set free.