Lover

by Valerie J. Long

  “Well. Come, in the meantime my men have improvised a shooting range.”

  “Sure.”

  The improvised shooting range consisted of a dozen cardboard targets in letter size, each with a coin-sized circle in the center, which were stuck in the ground upright. Every hundred yards, small sticks were drilled into the ground.

  Another man from his team held a linear rifle ready for me, the barrel pointing downward. “Charged one hundred percent, fifty rounds, part load, safety on.”

  I took the weapon, briefly checked the safety switch and kept it pointing down. “Charge one hundred percent, fifty rounds, part load and safety on. Okay.”

  “We’ll start at two-hundred yards, prone position,” the Captain said. “You should hit at least three targets. Then we’ll try again at one-hundred.”

  “Pardon me for objecting, Captain. You want to know what I can do, so I should start at four-hundred.”

  Astonished, he raised his eyebrows. “If you like.”

  “I like. Standing position. May I?”

  “Please. Fifty rounds single fire, load and commence. Good luck.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with luck,” I corrected, loaded and raised the rifle to my shoulder. The recoil wouldn’t be a problem, but I didn’t know how well the rifle was sighted.

  For the first shot, I aimed very carefully, to adjust my body movements and the weapon’s weight. So, Ghost, now help me. We’ll cheat a little.

  Safety off—slowly pull the trigger, breathe out, shoot!

  The first cardboard, the leftmost, sailed away. I already had the second in my visor, breathe out, shoot, to the right, breathe out, shoot, and rhythmically continuing—after the twelfth hit, I found no further targets, lowered the rifle, and secured the rifle.

  “Not bad,” the Captain admitted. One of his men took the rifle—“Charge eighty-eight percent, thirty-eight rounds, fully loaded, safety on”—whereupon he declared the shooting range as cold and sent two men on the hunt for cardboard.

  “You’ve used a rifle before, have you?”

  “I had to, yes.”

  “Why did you have to?”

  “To hit first. A battle with a Cartel gang, thirty-five men.” I hadn’t better talk about the Denver police station.

  “And there you hit the same way?”

  “No, kneeling or prone. Twenty-eight hits with twenty-eight shots.”

  “Are you a pro?”

  “At shooting? No.”

  “What’s your job then? Alan didn’t want to tell.”

  “My education? Whore.”

  That knocked him for a loop. Meanwhile, his men returned with the cardboard targets. They didn’t say a thing, but watched me very attentively while handing the targets to their superior.

  The Captain took the twelve cardboards and browsed through. Then he placed them on top of each other and put a little finger through. “Twelve times perfectly centered? And you’re not a pro?”

  “I’m a pro when it comes to holes.”

  His punitive glare should have intimidated me, but I withstood. He was taller than me, as were all the others around, but otherwise he wasn’t above me.

  “We’re not making silly jokes here,” he tried again, but I let this rebuke bounce off again.

  “Only because you don’t understand a play of words, it’s no silly joke yet. I’ve only stated a fact.”

  “I don’t need amateurs who endanger my team’s success.”

  This didn’t lead anywhere. Who called me an amateur here? I simply left him and ambled around a group of trees—where I became invisible.

  From my hideout, I watched the Captain’s puzzled face.

  “Where did she go?” he asked.

  His men stood around him, clueless. Some shrugged.

  “Damn bitch. Find her.”

  I pulled myself up at a strong branch and found a place with a good view. A pity that I hadn’t brought popcorn.

  Soon the search focused on my group of trees—there were no other suitable places to hide in the vicinity.

  “She’s gone,” one of the Marines finally stated.

  “Bring the spy,” the Captain ordered. “I need to talk to him.”

  Then he briefly buried his face in his hands. He was worried—I could see that in him.

  Alan already was on his way—I decided to not put them on the racks. As soon as the spy had come close, I jumped down the tree and became visible again. Then I stepped around the trunk and joined the two.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  “Where’s the problem?” Alan asked and looked straight at me. “Jo?”

  The Captain still gave me angry glances, which I ignored with a smile. “I don’t have a problem. I’m no soldier��as a spy, I need different skills. I’m helping voluntarily and free of charge, and I respect every other member, but I don’t mince my words and won’t knuckle down.”

  “Captain?”

  “The lack of discipline of a single member can endanger the mission and the entire team. I bear the responsibility, so I must ensure that everything goes according to the plan.”

  “Mm, okay. Yes, Jo?”

  “The Captain’s statement is correct, but it doesn’t match the problem. The team could be endangered by someone unveiling their position or fulfilling an assigned task too late or insufficiently. I’ve already proved several times how well I can hide my presence. All tasks I’ve voluntarily accepted so far have been fulfilled completely, correct, Alan?”

  “Significantly exceeded would be correct. Your results are extraordinary.”

  “Thank you. Today, I’ve not only proven my athletic fitness and my qualification as marksman, I’ve also done it in a quiet and disciplined way. There’s no indication that I’d endanger the mission—but the Captain didn’t mention my name, did he?”

  “What do you want to say?” the Captain grumbled.

  “That it’s not about qualification and discipline on the mission, but about a personal problem between the two of us. This may partially be due to the fact that I absolutely respect the Captain’s qualification, but only conditionally recognize his claim to lead—I’m not his subordinate. In return, I do not feel myself and my skills respected by the Captain, and I feel concerned about his accusations put in the third person, even doubly concerned because I don’t know why he doesn’t address me directly. And that’s sad, because in my opinion, I’ve clarified frankly enough how much I’m interested in this mission’s success.”

  “Okay. I can’t be sure that you’ll follow my orders in a decisive moment, that’s the problem.”

  I would object, but Alan came first. “You can be sure that Jo will do the right thing in a decisive moment—considering your orders. Fiona and I owe our lives to this fact. I think I should tell you how we first met.”

  “So. Should I know that?”

  “It might have an effect on your judgment. It also might be interesting for you to know that this woman’s been successfully evading the Cartel’s best killers for years and at the same time walks all over them.”

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  With a wave of his hand, the Captain advised us to advance. The remnants of the bridge where the Crosby Freeway crossed the river, blown up during the Invasion, were hard to climb, but in exchange not under surveillance. That’s what I had found out returning from my scout mission, and that’s what the Captain had now verified himself, too.

  He insisted on avoiding unnecessary noises, so we didn’t talk, although this history-charged place, where Stormy Sylvie had initiated the counterattack against the millions-strong invaders’ army, surely would have been worth a few words. Somehow it seemed appropriate that we’d initiate the first military strike against the Cartel in this same place.

  However, so far, nothing decisive had happened. I focused on keeping my position near the Captain. He had insisted on being able to reach me anytime, and, to me, this idea made sense indeed. Perhaps there’d be a situation where I’d have to tell him some
thing.

  Nick had been detached to play my nanny. But his Sergeant had soon found out how futile this task was—he had a hard time even keeping an eye on me, because I used every shadow to become practically invisible without the aid of my nanos. In return, my night vision was much better than the dim green image that his special goggles relayed. I had refused the goggles with the argument that I wasn’t used to this kind of display, so that it would do more harm than help. Probably this admittance had even scored with the Captain.

  I had also rejected the camouflage dress—my matte black was camouflage enough.

  I only had accepted the rifle, although that heavy iron rather troubled me so far. Sadly, I’d need it later.

  The small village of Barrett had suffered heavily from the battles. I tried to imagine how it must have felt to storm into the heart of the opposing invasion army with a handful of comrades—invisible or not, it had to result in a hit eventually! The few still-erect walls with their countless molten or scorched holes bore witness of the Jelly plasma guns’ fierce barrage.

  The Captain let his men only scout our immediate path, thus confirming my statement that the village wasn’t secured—I had spent two hours checking it—and then he waved us through. Once we had reached open country on its eastern side, he made the sign for a break and waved Nick and me close.

  “So far okay,” he whispered, “and your description of our route was extraordinarily precise, Jo. I’d like to send you and Nick forward to the advance party. Nick, how’s she doing?”

  “Captain, if she didn’t now and then show me where she is, I’d have no chance to see her. She’s way too good.”

  The road from Barrett to the southeast was barely recognizable. Jelly tank chains had left their traces as much as the artillery. Here and there, we found an intact piece of track. Where and how would you install surveillance in this case? On my way out, I hadn’t spotted anything and hadn’t been spotted, but as the Captain stored great value in letting his men cover our flanks to both sides of our advance, my findings didn’t suffice.

  I had told him so, and he had waved my objections aside. His men would find the stuff once they knew what to watch out for, he had said.

  I had my doubts, so I had to cover the entire width from my place in the advance party, scurry left and right and then briefly show myself to Nick in the center again.

  The trouble here wasn’t primarily possible traps—to the side of the scouted route, there were some hot spots with dangerous radioactivity. The ZONE wasn’t avoided for nothing.

  Several times, I had to warn the flanking men or urge them to hurry. Their Geiger meters each time confirmed my warning, before I assumed my place in the lead again.

  However, we were left with the few hot spots. Until we reached the safeguard behind Cove on the Interstate, we didn’t find any warning installations—and we removed that one.

  The Captain said, “Once we’re there, they’ll know about us anyway.”

  So we might as well destroy the sensors and prevent any warning signal. That was easier than to sneak around the sensible tremor detectors.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  My strength lay in stealthy intrusion. I had no idea of the planning for a military approach. That had been the Captain’s business, who had assigned his men to the individual machine gun emplacements and further neuralgic spots.

  My task was clear—the two camouflaged guards at the main entrance. I would only have a chance to get them both while they hadn’t fanned out yet, so I had to initiate our attack. Only then should the other teams strike.

  To that end, I had to enter the ring of defenders unseen, and this time without the aid of my camouflage. That should remain my secret, but first of all I carried the heavy gun.

  Quietly, I scurried from shadow to shadow, Nick always some way behind me to cover my back. Only one more block, then the corner of the house, and then I’d have a clear view of the main entrance. But I waited for Nick’s sign that the Captain and his men were in position.

  A poke at my shoulder—okay, I could start.

  In fact, I felt somewhat queasy. So far, I had actively participated in three large-scale shootings. Once, I had only been the target, but this time, I’d start the hostilities—and injure a man without warning. Could I really do that?

  It’s a bit late for such thoughts, Jo, I chided myself. You’ve got two targets, and then you’re done, so see it through now. Two assholes, who’re helping the Cartel build weapons for the oppression of the American people and the killing of its soldiers, don’t deserve your sympathy.

  I went down on one knee and moved forward to the corner with caution. Nick couldn’t see it from his position, but I had adapted my face color.

  The two guards were still standing where I expected them to be, and the warmth of their breath was clearly recognizable. My innocent targets. My innocent, but armed and armored, targets!

  Armor-piercing linear projectiles with amplified acceleration should theoretically be able to penetrate an armor suit if I hit well. I’d have to manage with the amplified recoil.

  Cautiously, I leaned back, raised the gun and released the safety. Once I leveled the barrel and stuck it out of the house corner’s cover, I could be spotted. Then I had better be quick.

  A dim chirp sounded from the house next to me, then a suppressed curse and the rustle of clothes. Someone had triggered an alarm.

  Dragon shit.

  Nick held one hand to his ear, listened. Had the Captain just relayed what had happened? No matter—what did the two guards do? I had no time left!

  In one flowing motion, I leveled my rifle and leaned forward around the corner. The rearward guard—seen from my perspective—was just turning to leave, and the closer one looked about my direction. I had no choice. I pulled the rifle deep into my shoulder, aimed and pulled the trigger.

  The rearward guard flinched and dropped with flickering camouflage.

  His colleague jumped sideways. I sensed the air draft of his movement and followed with my visor. On the edge of my vision, I noticed two windows of the school building spring open and unveil metallic barrels training in my direction.

  Now it’d be better to take cover, as they probably had already spotted my weapon and me. But I still had a task, and I’d finish my fucking mission.

  There was movement behind me, too, which shouldn’t distract me now—aim, shoot!

  Scored. The second invisible man dropped. I sent a second bullet after the first, as I wasn’t sure how well I had hit.

  A flash came from one window. A burning pain shot through my forward-placed leg!

  A reflex triggered by my Analogy let me drop backward and roll off. More heat shot past me, no direct threat. The pain made black veils and colorful lights dance before my eyes. What?

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  “Jo! Jo?”

  A shaking at my shoulder. “Jo?”

  The voice belonged to Nick. Around us, the bellow of shots, the hiss of plasma weapons, the quiet plop of our linear rifles sounded.

  “I’m—okay. Do—your—job,” I pressed forward.

  “Fine.” There were multiple knocks next to me. Nick’s gun.

  Diagnosis?

  —Severe burns at the left lower leg. Bone intact, low loss of blood. The suit was damaged.—

  Can the leg be used?

  —Negative.—

  Initiate provisional healing. How long?

  —One minute.—

  Minimize. Then suit repair.

  —Running in parallel. The suit will be able to support the injured leg until the healing is completed.—

  Okay. Ouch.

  —Prioritize pain relief?—

  No priority. Where’s my gun? Here. Target acquisition?

  —Negative. Step pattern of Captain quickly approaching.—

  “Nick, status?”

  “Secured.”

  “Stay with her. We’ll go in.”

  “Captain—”

  “I k
now. Don’t worry, we won’t leave her behind. ‘Til later.”

  Nick only had a brief wink for me, and then he focused on the surroundings again. Except for muffled shots and brief cries from the school building, there was nothing to hear anymore. The pain rolled over me in waves.

  —Emergency healing completed. Suit reconstructed.—

  Go on. Mute pain now.

  The feeling in my leg faded. Now it only hurt, but no longer threatened to pull me into darkness anymore.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s breathing. Brave girl—I didn’t hear a sound.”

  The Captain leaned over me. “You should have taken cover.”

  “Not before my job was done.”

  “Damn—your task wasn’t playing the hero.”

  “Captain—”

  “It’s okay, Nick. Jo, you’ve finished your task in a darn disciplined way. I’m glad to have you on my team, and you should know that. But now we’ve got a problem, as we have to get you away from here somehow.”

  “What about the others?”

  His features dimmed. “We’ve lost Arville. A plasma hit, beyond help. You were extremely lucky that you weren’t hit directly.”

  “That was a full hit,” Nick objected. “The leg should be gone!”

  “Then we’ll need to be very careful—”

  “Forget it.” I grabbed his shoulder and pulled myself up, first on my healthy leg, and then I cautiously burdened the injured limb. “I can walk.”

  “How’s that?” Nick exclaimed in surprise. Then he squatted for a look at my leg. “Damn, there’s nothing to see! What kind of material is that?”

  “Frostdragon nano armor,” I admitted the obvious.

  The Captain pushed his breath out with a hiss. “You’re wearing an armor suit?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No wonder you didn’t want our camo suit. How did you get that?”