Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  ***

  Reid flinched and took shelter behind a radio telescope dish as pieces of metal rained down around him. He had just spotted a huge Black Skull standing over Lisa. He counted to three and sprinted from his position, firing his M4. One burst, then another. Each round appeared to have no effect on the giant of a man. The commando spread his arms as if welcoming the pain. Reid fired another burst and switched his aim. The commando fired his own weapon before swinging a huge, meaty fist at Reid. Reid ducked and slashed up with his knife. The giant barely acknowledged the deep cut in his torso. He growled and swatted Reid aside with a blow to his head.

  Pinpoints of orange and yellow danced in Reid’s vision. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. First, he got up on one knee, then he stood. The giant, standing a couple of meters away, made a show of tossing the pistol away and removing his shirt. Flexing his muscles, he looked like a real life He-Man.

  The colored lights were still dancing in Reid’s vision when the giant bellowed and charged. Reid dropped to a crouch and protected his head. One blow pummeled him, and then a second, quickly followed by a third. New pain invaded his senses. Pain he had never experienced before. Sharp, hot needles stabbing his skin and bones.

  The giant laughed, a surprisingly high-pitched sound. “You LK3 operatives are pathetic. Puny and weak.”

  Reid gasped and looked up. He had no clue how to defeat this behemoth of a man. “I’m not LK3. I’m U.S Army, asshole.” He gasped again, surprised at the struggle it took to speak. He adjusted the knife he clutched behind his back.

  The giant grabbed Reid by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to a standing position, his dinner-plate-sized hands squeezed around Reid’s throat. Reid knew he had one chance, and one chance only. He risked a glance at Sofia; she was hunched over her laptop, ignoring the battle raging around her.

  As the giant began to squeeze, his putrid garlic breath washed over Reid. He mustered as much strength as he could, then plunged his Ka-Bar deep into the giant’s chest, aiming between the third and fourth ribs, right where the heart would be.

  The giant’s eyes glazed over, and he released Reid. He looked down at the knife, his face confused. Reid wasted no time and pulled the knife free. Screaming, he leaped as he slammed it into the giant’s skull, below the ear.

  The giant blinked once and toppled forward, pinning Reid to the ground with his massive bulk.

  Reid lay, sucking in breaths of mountain air. All around there was death and destruction. Multiple Black Skulls lay dead. Some, still alive but severely injured, crawled toward the U-shaped building. The Black Hawk was a burning wreck of twisted metal, flames licking at the satellites and gray smoke billowing in plumes. Reid winced at the pain from the giant’s blows, then shoved the dead giant’s body off him. Standing, he drew his Glock and shot the giant in the face, just to be sure he stayed dead.

  Reid checked Lisa’s pulse, his heart skipping a beat when he felt nothing. He activated his comms. “Lisa is down. I repeat, we’ve lost Lisa.” He turned and waved to Sofia. Beta team had achieved what they had set out to do – give Sigma a chance. Give everyone a chance.

  ***

  Booth rejoined Ryan on the flat roof of the building and reloaded his MP5, taking a covering position a few meters away. Booth spoke into his throat mic. “Did I hear that right?”

  Ryan nodded in answer. He had no words to describe the emotions that were boiling inside. Lisa had been more than a friend to him and his family, she had been a mentor, a confidant, a champion to The Nameless. Defending them at every turn and she always had their backs. Ryan clenched his fist at his side. It was time to end this.

  There were still dozens of Black Skulls around, he was certain. They had taken care of the commandos in the satellite field, but they knew The Eyrie had at least ten squads.

  Ryan checked Sofia’s position again and was satisfied that Reid was protecting her flank.

  “Alpha team. Realignment successful. Signal strong,” Sofia said. “Informing control.”

  “Copy that. Proceed to the rendezvous,” Ryan said. “Secure Lisa if you can.”

  “Wilco.”

  Ryan gestured to Booth to stay where he was as the crack of a rifle rang out. On instinct, Ryan ducked below the air conditioning unit and, raising his sub machine gun, scanned all the high spots he could see.

  “You see anything, Booth?”

  Silence.

  Crack!

  The concrete centimeters away from his foot exploded in chips and dust.

  The silence returned.

  “Booth?”

  The only response Ryan received was the white noise of the radio hissing in his ear. His heart sank as all his fears and anxieties returned in a tidal wave of emotion.

  Hands shaking, he tried the comms again. “Booth?” Silence. “Cal?”

  Nothing. He was on his own. Ryan risked a peek, searching out his oldest friend. He choked back a sob when he saw Booth slumped over, blood pooling from the huge hole in his head.

  He squeezed his eyes closed and pulled his knees to his chest. For fifteen years, The Nameless had operated with no casualties. In a matter of minutes, they had suffered two.

  Thirty-Eight

  Near Portland, Oregon

  Milo wasn’t convinced he was doing the right thing. If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure of much anymore. The world Offenheim and Alba had promised him in that wretched prison cell didn’t exist. Instead, he had been part of an extinction. His mind said genocide, but how many had OPIS killed. Three billion? Four? Five? Various reports said more than five, but with the constant infighting, who really knew?

  He pulled the car off the road and parked it under the fir trees that dotted this part of Oregon. He had been here only once before, the headquarters of LK3, when he led the raid nearly a month ago. Doctor Kohli, the idiot, had nearly exposed everything, and he and his team had been sent in to make sure secrets were kept. Then Offenheim had moved everything forward anyway. Why?

  Milo turned and looked at his passenger. “Are you sure this will work?”

  “Yes. If LK3 are doing what you suspect, I can help them.”

  “By switching off everyone’s nanites for good?”

  Daniel fidgeted with his seatbelt. “In theory. They’ll naturally flush out of your system.”

  “And the reset of wave two?”

  “It will have no effect.”

  Milo sighed and stepped out of the vehicle. He opened the trunk and checked his weapons. Even though they were going in peace, he knew OPIS would have Black Skulls hunting for this location too. He had neither seen nor heard anything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around. He looked skyward. It was partly cloudy, and the moon was showing its full face. OPIS liked to use spy drones. He was certain there would be one in the area, which was why he’d taped a survival blanket over the hood of their vehicle.

  Milo and Daniel wrapped themselves in survival blankets, painted a mottled gray on the outside, and slipped silently into the trees. Milo kept the pace fast and direct, hugging the road but staying below it in a creek bed. As they walked, Milo cast his mind back to when it had all begun for him in East Germany.

  A young Stasi officer, he had thought he was set for life. That he could provide a better life for his sister, Eva. But Milo had soon learnt how paranoid and monstrous the Stasi and the Party really were. For his crime of not capturing or killing the smuggler, Felix, the Stasi had executed Eva, leaving her body to rot, swinging from the gallows, outside his cell for him to see. To see her decay. To watch as the crows feasted on her flesh. The guards had laughed and taken pot shots at her body. One particularly mephitic guard, Franz Belsen, fat and pasty, always sweating, even when snow had fallen, after making sure Milo was watching, would grab Eva inappropriately and tell him of all the ways he was going to defile his sister.

  Milo shivered. He never knew what happened to Belsen. He could only hope that karma was fair and Belsen had been brought to justice.

 
Offenheim and OPIS had offered Milo a new life, a chance to right the world’s wrongs. Milo scoffed at his stupidity. Instead, he had been brainwashed, like thousands of others.

  He brushed away the awful memories and led Daniel deeper into the forest. They followed the creek for another thirty minutes before stopping at a two-meter-high fence. The guardhouse and gate had both been destroyed, the gate lying in a twisted heap on the road. A second barrier, the swing arm, had also been sheared off.

  Milo checked the vicinity, looking for hostiles, but came up short. The easy option would be to walk in through the gate, but Milo knew the Black Skulls; he had trained most of them. The gate would be the perfect ambush site. Rather than risk a fight, he bypassed the front entrance and headed west, following the fence. Signs were dotted along its length, warning people away. Government property. No access.

  “How much farther?” Daniel whispered.

  “I’ll know when I get there,” Milo said. He held a finger to his lips to silence any follow-up questions.

  On an earlier scouting mission, Milo had circled several weak spots in LK3’s perimeter. The one he was looking for now had been discarded by the Black Skulls because it meant entering in single file and was a possible choke point if they were spotted. But for a two-man team it was perfect.

  A small creek flowed under the electrified fence. Mesh had been attached to stop anyone climbing under, but over the years, Milo surmised, logs had torn holes in the mesh big enough for humans to fit through.

  Milo spent several minutes watching, waiting, listening. Everything was still, apart from the water flowing in the creek. He wriggled through, flinching at the chill of the water before helping the struggling Daniel.

  On they walked, clambering over rotting logs, scrambling through loose rocks and undergrowth choked with climbing plants. After another forty minutes, the headquarters for LK3 appeared, the moonlight enough to show the burned-out wreckage. Most of the complex was three stories in an L-shape, with a four-story section at the top of the L. The director’s office had been on the top floor, and that had been Milo’s mission all those nights ago: capture Lisa Omstead and Zanzi Connors. He had failed.

  The distinct odor of burnt chemicals and building materials hung in the air. Milo detected wood, paint, oil and fuel.

  “Where would you hide an operations room?” Milo muttered to himself, making a 360-degree turn as he scanned the burnt-out ruins.

  “My question would be why come back here at all?” Daniel said. “There’s nothing here except that.” He pointed to the skeletal remains evident in the ashes.

  “That’s precisely why. They have to be here somewhere.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because it’s the smart thing to do. Go where your enemy least expects. In this case, the HQ we’ve already destroyed. Now, where would you hide an operations room?” Milo said. He kicked his foot through some of the ash, sending plumes into the air.

  Daniel shrugged. “Underground, I suppose.”

  “My thoughts too.”

  Milo shouldered his HK416 and walked briskly away from the destruction. He crossed the visitors’ car park and entered a two-story parking garage. Behind the garage was a copse of trees, but their shape was odd, their branches rectangular. He went in closer and discovered a disguised cell tower.

  Back in the garage, cars remained where they’d been parked. Waiting for owners who would never return. Milo gripped his carbine tighter as he crept forward. It was dark in here. Too dark. He was heading toward the back of the parking garage when his ears detected a strange sound: toenails clicking on a hard surface.

  “Not another inch,” a voice commanded. The accent had a strange lilt to it. The speaker bounced the last consonant, trying to sound menacing.

  Milo turned slowly. She was tall, perhaps six feet, and had red hair. She wore gray Army fatigues and had both him and Daniel covered with a Glock 19. At her side was a golden labrador.

  “You,” Milo said.

  “You,” the woman said, “come for another round?”

  “We mean you no harm,” Milo said.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “I need to speak to Director Omstead. I have important information.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. This man, Daniel, can help. I’m Milo.”

  The woman cocked her head and frowned. She sniffed the air. “Ebony,” she said.

  The dog let out a low growl and hunched down. Ebony cursed and, with surprising speed, sprinted past him. She stopped a few meters away and held up a tablet, showing Milo and Daniel an image from a thermal camera. Seven blobs of red and orange were walking through the trees, moving on their position. It was clear they were armed.

  “Friends of yours?” Ebony said.

  “I swear they’re not ours. We’ve been avoiding them for hours now.”

  “You led them right to us.”

  “I’m sorry. Please, we can end this. If you just let me speak to Omstead.”

  The dog growled again, echoing Ebony’s angry expression.

  Using the Glock, she waved them in front of her. “Move now. Head to those propane tanks and stop.”

  Milo and Daniel did as they were asked. Ebony made them face the wall while she activated some hidden mechanism. Unseen motors whirred and the tanks disappeared inside the wall. A thick concrete door swung open and they hurried through. Ebony checked the tablet again and closed the doors, locking them in.

  Milo whistled. The space they were in was huge. There was a fully equipped workshop for vehicle repair, and through a partially opened door he spied a shooting range. More doors exited the garage but were shut. The scent of old oil and diesel hung in the air. It was musty too, like the complex had not been well used. Ebony directed them into a stairwell and down a couple of levels, all the while muttering and looking at the screen. She was still muttering when she opened the door to a control room and pushed them inside. Avondale turned his chair, eyebrows raised but remained silent. Ebony secured them, handcuffing Milo’s hands behind his back by first looping the cuffs through exposed metal tubing jutting from the wall. Daniel resisted for a few seconds, but Milo shook his head.

  “I fought you in the safe house,” Milo said.

  “Yes, Milo. Lisa explained how you helped them. Why attack us?”

  “Offenheim had ordered me to eliminate the threat, so I had to make it look authentic.”

  “Had a change of heart recently?”

  “Correct, which is why these cuffs are unnecessary. I only want to talk.”

  “Funny. I’ve heard that before.” Ebony shoved Milo down into an office chair and covered him with her pistol. She left his cuffs on. “Now, why do you want to speak to Director Omstead?”

  Milo breathed out, picturing his sister as he liked to remember her: smiling as they threw rocks at a floating log on a bright summer’s day. The image always calmed him. And right now he needed to be calm to explain why he was risking everything being here. The Black Skulls had already tracked them. They wouldn’t stop until they were all dead, unless they did something first.

  “This is Daniel Kummerow. He was the Head of Programming for OPIS. Before the purge, he disappeared. I was sent to locate him and return him to The Eyrie.”

  “So?” Ebony said.

  Daniel coughed. “I can switch them off. The nanites.”

  “Everyone’s?” Ebony asked, switching the Glock to her left hand.

  “Yes. If I switch them off, when OPIS launch another wave, it will have no effect.”

  “Avondale?” Ebony said.

  Avondale was watching them, hands in his lap. “I’m listening, but we have our own plans.”

  “This could stop everything.”

  Avondale cracked his knuckles. “What do you need to do it?”

  “A transmitter powerful enough to reach the main satellite. The Eyrie has one. I’m sure a military base would have one. Maybe a few private places,” Daniel said.

 
“We have equipment here.”

  “I also need access to my computers at The Eyrie.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  A dull thud sounded. Ebony whipped her head around, searching the monitors. “Avondale, what’s happening?”

  “They’re using explosives on the parking garage, probing.”

  A strange hissing sound replaced the thuds. Ebony and Milo frowned. Daniel sucked in a sudden breath and, clutching his throat, collapsed to the floor. Avondale tried to move, but only made it a couple of meters before collapsing. Milo twisted in his bonds to stare at Ebony.

  “They’re using X4…gas…” He sank to the floor, eyes fluttering closed.

  ***

  Ebony detected an odd taste at the back of her throat, noted the tingling and burning in her lungs, and registered that gas was being dispensed into the silo. At first, she hadn’t believed the muscular man with the strange tattoo above his left eye. When she had fought him back at the safe house, she had realized his abilities were the same as hers: superior speed and strength. If he hadn’t fled, she wasn’t sure she could have bested him.

  She pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth and sprinted from the room. The infirmary, with its gas masks, was a few doors down. She stumbled and slid along the concrete floor, fighting the pressure in her head. Struggling to her knees, she gasped for oxygen as she yanked the cupboard open and pulled a mask over her head. In seconds, she felt better. Her next-gen nanites whirred into action, repairing the damage.

  She grabbed a bundle of masks and ran, first to Avondale, then to Lahm and Keiko who had collapsed on their bunks in the sleeping quarters. Lastly, she put one over Milo and Daniel each. Sam appeared unaffected. He followed Ebony around, tail wagging and licking the faces as they went.

  “You’re a good boy, ain’t you.” Ebony ruffled the dog’s ears.

  The gas masks began to do their work immediately. Instead of breathing the noxious gas, Keiko, Avondale, Lahm, Daniel and Milo began to breathe in the normal mixture of oxygen, nitrogen and the other trace gases. Argon, carbon dioxide and methane.