Unbreakable Storm

by Patrick Dugan

  She looked at me. Normal Abby couldn’t pick me up, but Gifted Abby could do a lot more. I heard a growl of assent as she found purchase on my torso and left leg. She sped into the fight, throwing me in an arc as we neared. I flew, stifling a scream that would earn me constant harassment from Abby and Marcel for months, and landed on the monster’s back. The ridges made excellent handholds as it ferociously shook to dislodge me. I crawled along the back, searching for an opening. Dad and Abby darted in and out, distracting the beast, keeping him from concentrating on me.

  At last, I found what I’d hoped to find. At the base of his skull where the armor plates came together was a gap large enough for a knife. I’d practiced with Blaze in Castle and hoped this would work here. I focused the swirling energy around my fist, willing it into the shape of a fist dagger. The power flowed between my middle fingers, forming the thick base and tapering down to a pointed end. I plunged the dagger between the plates into the behemoth’s brain. It roared as I forced the blade deeper, pumping more energy into it as it tore through flesh. Blood and ichor sprayed out of the wound as I put my weight behind the blade. The alligator twitched as the point hit home.

  I let go of the stream of energy that fueled the knife, slumping against the still form of the beast. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Marcel’s shrill voice sounded in my ear.

  I grinned. “Just getting Captain Hook’s hand back.”

  10

  After the fight on the riverbank, the walk into Atlanta was quiet. Luckily, we all still had the ordnance cases we’d need for the meeting. It had been touch-and-go with mine; it now bore deep grooves where the underwater fence had scored it. Abby’s looked in better shape. We saw signs of passage as we followed the abandoned train tracks through the outskirts of the city. Old tanker trucks labeled Georgia Gas sat unused behind a derelict chain linked fence as we left the tracks to move to the gate. The waterworks greeted us as we ghosted through the cold night, and we passed unseen. I heard howling off in the distance and shuddered. I would be thrilled to conclude our business and return to Castle. I’d had enough of destroyed cities.

  More abandoned buildings and the remains of wrecked vehicles stood silently as we made our way toward tomorrow’s meeting place. We turned the corner onto what had been 7th Street and saw the Millennium Gate. A brown and tan apartment building with rusted metal rails around the balconies was off to our left; that would be our home for the rest of the night. A dilapidated minivan provided an entrance, having crashed into the building, sending the patio door into the living room.

  “Radio silence until we’re settled,” Dad said then shut off his link. Abby and I followed suit.

  Climbing over the hood, all the while avoiding the damaged portions, challenged our agility. Well, mine at least. Balancing the box attached to my back didn’t make this any easier. Abby finally leapt over, grabbing the top of the opening and swinging in. The rifle case slipping messed up her landing, forcing the Asian Zone judge to score her a six for the stumble. “Terrarium” might have been a better name than apartment with all the weeds grown in and around the rotted furnishings. Something had torn apart the kitchen cabinets at some point, probably in search of food. The large bite marks on the discarded cabinet doors didn’t soothe my nerves any. We found the front door of the ground floor apartment still locked, the owner having been disintegrated instantly in the attack.

  Dad unlocked the door, peering up and down the hallway. He showed the thumbs-up, and we moved out, closing the door behind us. Spider webs clogged the hallway, and a thick layer of dust on the floor assured us there hadn’t been activity in a long time. I silently thanked Mr. Fix-it for the sealed combat suit; the thought of spiders—mutated spiders—creeped me out. We reached the stairway, and Abby and I started up. Dad sent a light breeze along the hall to obscure our tracks. The concrete stairs were in good shape, and we made the climb to the fourth floor through the homes of every insect ever created.

  We entered the abandoned hallway, checking for signs of anything passing before us, none of us wanting to tangle with the wildlife. Dad gave the signal. Slowly we made our way to the last door on the right that looked out over the Millennium Gate. Abby twisted the door handle, breaking the lock and opening the door. She silently slid into the room, checking for other signs of entry. Dad and I followed her in, flanking her. I stepped into the master bedroom, the bed unmade, women’s clothing scattered on the floor. Mold covered the bathroom, make-up, lotions, and clothing laying around. The former occupant either left in a hurry that morning or was a colossal slob. I hoped for hurry, since many of the cities started evacuating before the second wave of attacks hit.

  I stepped back into the main area; Dad flashed the all clear. He went to the apartment’s front door, retrieved a piece of metal from a pocket and welded it into place, effectively locking the door. I clicked on the comm-link; I hadn’t realized how stressful knowing I couldn’t talk to anyone would be.

  “Find a spot and get some rest. I’ll take first watch. Abby, I’ll wake you in three hours. You wake Tommy after.”

  Abby’s helmet nodded. “You want the rifle? The scope has night and heat vision.”

  Dad shook his head. I wondered what we must look like to an outsider. Three aliens in black exoskeletons wandering around an abandoned building in the middle of the night. “My visor is fine to keep watch on the meeting location. We just need to know if they are up to anything.”

  I scanned the room, seeing the moldy furniture, and decided sleeping on the comparatively clean tile in the kitchen would be my best choice. I unhooked the banged-up case I’d carried into Atlanta and set it next to me as I tried to get comfortable. Under no circumstances would I remove my helmet in here. Abby peered into the bedrooms, thought better of it, and joined me sitting on the floor and resting against cabinets.

  I drifted off to sleep, wondering when my life would ever be normal or if that would even be possible. Way too quickly, Abby shook my shoulder to take my shift. The chrono display in my HUD displayed one in the afternoon local time. Abby held out her hand and pulled me to my feet. She took my spot on the floor as I stepped over Dad and headed to the window where I could best see the Gate.

  The Millennium Gate must have been beautiful at one time. Now vines grew up the walls and cars had smashed into the lower level, destroying the ring of pillars in places. Just like the simulation, two cars stood sentry on the median leading to the meeting area below the arch. The cloud cover held, but rain hadn’t fallen, and I wanted it to stay that way. Slick surfaces didn’t make for much fun. I spent the next three hours watching nothing happen. The HUD flashed at four o’clock, and I went to wake up Dad and Abby so we could finalize the plan.

  Dad unsealed his helmet and removed it, a grimace crossing his face as the smells assaulted him. Abby and I did the same, and I regretted it. The air was thick with mold and decay. I fought not to throw up. Dad pulled out a packet of jerky and carefully opened it so his gloves did not touch the meat directly. “Better eat quick, it will be a long time until we reach the car.”

  I grabbed my packet and chewed the dry jerky. As soon as it was all in my mouth, I reseated my helmet and resealed it. Unfortunately, the stench clung to my skin, but it was a vast improvement over smelling the room.

  Dad pushed his helmet back on. “Player, once it gets dark, you can jump over from the balcony and slide down the lamppost to the ground floor. Make your way to the gate and get set up. Everything looks on the up-and-up, but let’s not take any chances. Mr. Wizard, can you access everything remotely?”

  Marcel’s voice boomed in my ear. “Affirmative, Maverick. I’ve got a link to a satellite in geosynchronous orbit over your location. I’ve bounced the signal off three—”

  Abby cut him off. “Have your nerdgasm some other time; we just need to know if you can back us up if things go south fast.”

  Marcel’s voice had a sulking tone to it. “Yes. Goose. I can access everything.”

  “Go
od job. Once everything is set, Goose will cover Player with the sniper rifle, and I’ll set up on the balcony in case I need to move in quickly. We need to set the deal and then head out. Unless its life or death, no Gifts. We don’t want to announce who we are. If for any reason we get separated, return to the old apartment buildings next to the wall. We don’t cross the wall until we are all together. Understood?”

  We both nodded our agreement. Abby retrieved her case from the kitchen, opened it and assembled the rifle. She snapped the scope on and loaded the weapon. According to Blaze, the rifle had an effective range of half a mile. The bullets had been designed for use against Gifted and would punch through just about any material this side of Carbinium. She set the rifle on the floor and retrieved a suction cup and glass cutter from the bag. She secured the cup to each window in turn, cut out the window, then placed the glass on the old couch.

  Dad exited the room through the balcony door. He carried a device that looked like an electronic grasshopper. In reality, the field generator would provide camouflage by mimicking the surrounding area. Once established, the scene wouldn’t change, regardless of what happened behind it.

  Abby laid on the living room floor, the tip of the rifle just inside the window frame. She adjusted the scope, moving the dials until she grunted her satisfaction. I headed for the kitchen, grabbing the case I’d carried in. I popped the lock and checked to make sure no water had gotten in, and all the contents were secure. The case held eight shaped charges and a remote detonator. I verified each one sat correctly in the foam insulation and that the detonator turned on. I switched off the detonator, carefully pulled one of the charges from its protective cradle, and activated the device. “Mr. Wizard can you see package one?”

  “Affirmative, Player. Package one is ready for delivery.”

  I switched off the detonator and reseated it. We repeated the process for the other seven charges; Marcel saw each of them, and he could remotely detonate them if needed once they were in place and active on the doors below. I finished my tests and secured the case. I stepped out on the balcony, which I swear groaned slightly. Dad sat in an old rusted patio chair, surveying the area with his helmet off.

  I pulled my helmet off; the cold, fresh air tingled on my face. What a relief after the offensive odors of the apartment. The generator ensured no one could see us, but I felt exposed out in the open. We still had a couple of hours before it would be fully dark. The ominous storm clouds left the city a stark black and white.

  “You know this used to be a beautiful city at one time.” Dad scanned the view, but I doubted he saw what stood before him. “People lived here; the city had a rhythm, a music all its own. In the summer, families would take their kids to the parks, stop for ice cream. We’ve lost so much.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Until Grim Reaper had driven us to DC, intent on selling us to the Protectorate, the largest place I’d ever been was Granite Falls. The world had been this way my whole life. I pulled over another chair and dropped into it. Part of the rusted seat crumbled under my weight, but it held. I tried to imagine what the city would look like with people in it, cars streaming past as we watched. I thought it probably had been a sight to behold. At some point, Abby joined us, and we quietly watched the thickening storm clouds dance as night rolled in. A portrait of vivid reds and greens painted the horizon.

  Dad stood after a long while, putting his helmet on. I did the same and headed to grab the case. Dad helped me secure it to my back as Abby returned to man the sniper rifle.

  “It’s go time. Mr. Wizard, you ready?” Dad asked, adjusting the chest strap to his liking. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I grinned nervously inside my helmet, though he couldn’t see it.

  “Maverick, we are go. Call the ball.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to calm my nerves and keep my voice calm. “Player calls the ball.” I walked out to the patio, gave Dad the thumbs-up, and jumped across to the streetlight. The pole swayed but didn’t break as I slid to the ground. I ducked behind a van with a donut logo and the slogan “Hot Now” in large letters on the side panel. I weaved between the cars, staying low. Panic screamed through my nerves as I kept a lookout for giant rats, alligators, or anything else that might want to eat me. Luckily, the run didn’t hold any surprises.

  I passed the last of the abandoned cars on the median, peeking with heat vision to make sure they were empty, and sprinted to the gate. I felt an itch as I crossed, fully exposed for anyone to see. I knew Abby followed me with the scope, but anyone else could be doing the same. I skidded to a halt under the dark shadows of the structure. I needed to work fast in case anyone showed up early. I pulled each charge, primed it, and activated it. I pushed one into the center of each door where it affixed. If anyone opened those doors, they were in for a loud and painful greeting.

  I pushed the dented case between the wall and marble statue at the front. If things went bad, I didn’t need to be tripping over it. “All set, Mr. Wizard.”

  Marcel’s whispered words reached me. “I call the ball, Player.” I wasn’t sure why he whispered since he was in the control room in Castle, but that’s Marcel for you. Now we waited for the Underground to arrive. I laid prone in the middle of the arch, surrounded by the dark like we were playing hide-and-seek. I might have dozed off, but my head jerked up as Abby said, “Player, you’ve got three headed up the median toward you.”

  “Player, let’s keep this short and sweet. Who they are, what do they want, and do they know where the Commander is? Then we head for base.”

  I nodded in the dark even though I knew they couldn’t see me. I got to my feet and moved to the opening of the middle of the arch. I could make out three silhouettes in the entrance. One kept moving, but the other two stopped, stepping to the sides. A soft, yellow light clicked on, revealing the Underground’s representative, or at least I hope so.

  My visor adjusted to the light source so I could see. A woman holding a shuttered lantern stood before me. Long, wavy red hair dipped past her shoulders, framing a pretty face and a guarded expression. I’d guess her to be around my mom’s age; her posture and stare reminded me of Mom in full lawyer mode. I’d learned long ago to never judge a person by their size.

  “Thank you for meeting with us. I’m Warden, leader of the Underground here in Atlanta. What should I call you?” Her voice held a note of authority, not mean, but business-like.

  I thought frantically. I couldn’t use Enforcer since they would probably know it from Saturday Night Showdown. Player didn’t sound right either. I blurted out the next thing I thought of. “Sparky.”

  “Sparky?” Three voices said in my ear at the same time.

  “Seriously, Sparky is the best you could come up with?” Abby asked in exasperation. I groaned inwardly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

  Warden cocked her head as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly. “Um, Sparky it is.”

  The figures escorting her stepped toward the circle of light. “You might as well call him murderer.” A flat voice I knew all too well reached me as he walked into the light, bow drawn and aimed at my head.

  Jon Stevens had joined the party.

  11

  Silently, I wondered who I’d pissed off to have such horrible luck. How the hell did Jon Stevens end up with the leader of the Underground? I broke my eyes away, noticing the second person who stood to the left of Warden: Turk. I hadn’t seen him since I’d left the Secret Lair. Jon must have freed him of his collar. Asking if today could get any worse would have to wait since I had an arrow pointed at my head.

  I heard a growl over the comm-link. Abby sounded as happy as I did. “Can I shoot him?”

  Dad’s calm voice answered. “No, let’s see how this plays out. I don’t want to bury anymore Stevens children unless it’s unavoidable.”

  The words hit me like a bucket of cold water. I slowly raised my hands. “I came to talk, not to fight.” The last thing I wanted to do was hurt either of them.
Both had lost a person close to them, but they didn’t realize those losses hurt me as well.

  Warden turned on Jon, her face flushing red. “Put it down. We don’t have time for this.”

  The bow tensed as Jon pulled hard on the nocked arrow. “He killed my sister.”

  “I said put it down, NOW!” Her voice cracked like a whip. The string relaxed as the bow lowered, all the while murderous revenge raged in his eyes. “We can discuss this later, but I’ll not have you ruining an opportunity we sorely need.”

  Turk barked a harsh laugh. “We’ll deal with Sparky here another time. We’ve both got scores to settle with him.”

  Warden’s eyes shot skyward. “I’m sorry.” She stepped closer as she spoke. “The boys told me about the Syndicate taking your friend. I know how it feels; they captured my daughter. We’ve heard rumors they established a new base of operations in the South Western Region. We haven’t found out where yet, but odds are good it’s one of the no-go sites.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. You mentioned you needed help?” I tried to focus on Warden, but my eyes kept checking on Jon and Turk.

  “Player, you’re playing in lunatic mode down there. You could use some power-ups.” Leave it to Marcel to turn this into a video game. If it were, I’d have rage quit after seeing the two of them. It made sense they paired up, seeing that they both blamed me for deaths I had little control over, however much they haunted me.

  Warden sighed. “Yes. We are in desperate need of weapons and tech. Between fighting the drug cartels, the mutants, and the Protectorate, our numbers have dwindled. We can trade information or assistance in other matters.”

  “Tell her to leave a list of requests in the drop, and we’ll see what we can do,” Dad said hesitantly. “Ask her what their plans are and why they need weapons.”

  I repeated what Dad asked and was rewarded with a laugh. “Plans? We plan to survive. When we fled to the no-go sites after the attacks, we had planned to overthrow the Protectorate. Now I have children to feed and enemies on every side. Even if I pulled all my fighters together, we couldn’t overthrow a city, much less the global Protectorate.”