Strands of Fate

by R F Hurteau

  “Eli?”

  Linus had appeared beside him, his arms clutched against his chest in a tight hug, shivering beneath his thin white tunic.

  “They want to bring light to this place,” Eli told him quietly. “They want to brighten the sky and make it into a paradise.”

  He looked up at the stars. “How can they bring light to a place as dark as this...where they have allowed so many bright lights to go out?”

  “We should go back,” Linus urged. “There’s nothing we can do. And there are going to be consequences for what you did back there. Don’t make them worse.”

  Eli shook his head. “I don’t care.”

  A familiar voice called out from behind them.

  “They said there was trouble, but I wasn’t expecting you. Good to see you again, Corp Orp.”

  Eli had no interest in engaging with Miles, though a small part of him longed to finish what he’d started that day at the park.

  He cast the briefest glance back at the recruit, who was approaching with a rifle held lightly in his arms, cradling it with an almost maternal familiarity. Then he continued speaking to Linus.

  “I’m going to go for a walk,” he said. “Go back to the ward. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Hey!” Miles said, getting closer. “I’m talking to you. You aren’t going anywhere except straight back where you belong.”

  “You sure?” Linus said, ignoring Miles completely.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey!”

  “It’s cold out here,” Linus noted, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “Don’t stay out too long. I wouldn’t like to think what they’d do to you if you caught a cold. Something foul, I imagine.”

  Linus began walking back toward the facility, and Eli turned to watch him go.

  Miles was staring back and forth between them, slack-jawed indignation illuminated by the cool light of the lamps. He stepped back as Linus passed, and watched him enter the building. Then he turned back to Eli.

  “You too,” said Miles, regaining his voice. “Let’s go.”

  Eli turned his back on the recruit and began to walk away.

  “You need to come with me right now, or I swear...”

  Miles did not finish his threat. Eli didn’t care what the recruit wished to do to him. Miles was no concern of his. The snow crunched under his feet, an almost pleasant sound that would have delighted him in the past.

  Now he only thought about how Reggie would never hear this, or any other beautiful sound, again.

  “That’s it!”

  Miles came at him at a jog, his boots hitting the earth with a heavy, rhythmic sound that drowned out the crunching snow. Eli frowned, listening to the rapidly approaching recruit with indifference. He continued walking.

  Miles’ hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and tugged.

  “I said, you’re co—”

  Eli brought his arm forward and then drove his elbow back, digging it into Miles’ gut and causing the recruit to double over.

  Eli watched the pitiful sight for a moment as the winded recruit struggled with his gun, evidently struggling to find the safety. Reaching down, Eli plucked the weapon from Miles’ hand with ease.

  He studied it for a moment, unsure how to get the bullets out. When the answer did not become readily apparent, he grasped the magazine and pulled it sideways.

  It came away with a satisfying crack, and Eli tipped it upside down, giving it a little shake so that the rounds tumbled to the ground, tinkling against one another as they landed.

  Then he tossed the gun aside, where it skittered across the ice and out of the reach of the floodlights, lost in darkness.

  Eli left Miles there, still gasping and choking, and walked away.

  He wasn’t sure where he was going, but it didn’t matter.

  After a few minutes a large outcropping of rock caught his eye. He climbed up and sat atop it, gazing out toward the invisible horizon, wondering which way was home.

  Wondering what home even was.

  He didn’t hear anyone approaching, but someone had appeared on the ground beside him. He turned, irritated and ready to tell Linus that he just wanted to be alone for a while. No one else would have been able to sneak up on him like that.

  The masked man, not Linus, stood beside Eli’s perch.

  “May I join you?”

  The voice resonated against the mask, distorted. Eli considered this for a moment, then shrugged.

  “Sure.”

  The Mask did not climb up beside Eli, but rather leapt, settling down beside him in such a relaxed way that it seemed as though they were just two old friends, lounging by the seaside.

  “I thought you were a figment of my imagination,” Eli said in an off-hand sort of way.

  Eli had been in too much pain during their other encounters to really take a good look at the mask. He studied it now, noting how it was not really black, as he’d first believed. Instead it shimmered with a rainbow hue…like the crow had.

  The Mask chuckled.

  “Ah, if only it were so. I expect being a figment is much less of a burden than being an actual person.”

  A day ago, an hour ago even, Eli would have had so many questions to ask The Mask.

  None of them seemed to matter anymore. Reggie was dead. More would follow.

  What good would it do to know more than that?

  “Sometimes, the end justifies the means,” The Mask said after a time.

  Eli cocked his head at the man, brow furrowed.

  “My friend just died in there,” he said bluntly. “Is that the ’means’ you’re talking about?”

  The Mask gave an almost imperceptible nod and a short-lived burst of rage flared up in Eli’s chest. But all that came out was a scoff.

  “Val Int must love you,” he said, disgusted.

  The silence wore on until Eli could no longer contain the accusations he felt inside.

  “He was just a little kid. He didn’t deserve that, none of us deserve that. He died for the sake of some stupid experiment, and I bet you and your kind don’t even know what his name was. We’re all just numbers to you.”

  “Subject designation, W3V2-12,” the Mask supplied, confirming Eli’s suspicions. But then he continued. “Reginald Phillip Clark, aged nine years, known to his friends as Reggie.”

  Eli’s mouth worked soundlessly. He had no reply. The Mask sighed again.

  “Come. I wish to show you something.”

  Too stunned to argue, Eli found himself moving away from the rock and walking beside the strange figure in silence. It seemed an eternity before they came to a halt, just short of a precipice that looked out over a pool of blackness so thick that it might have been a still body of water. Yet Eli’s senses told him that it was empty.

  “This is where they found me,” The Mask said after a long moment. “I searched for the way home, but it was gone. It took me quite a while to accept that. I’m not sure how long I wandered, alone, through the dark and the cold, before they came upon me. Sometimes, I wish they had not found me at all. That I’d been allowed to die here, and not have the weight of the future thrust upon my shoulders. They were not built for such a burden.”

  Eli turned his stare from the emptiness to The Mask. “Who found you? The Cedar Grove people?”

  The Mask shook slowly back and forth. “No, Eli. Captain Ross and his crew.”

  This elicited a disbelieving laugh from Eli’s lips before he could stop it. “Are you trying to tell me that you are...that’s impossible. That was hundreds of years ago.”

  The Mask nodded. “Yes.”

  “And I suppose you went back to England with them and founded Values International?” Eli laughed again in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  Eli’s laughter died, and he felt his jaw clench. “Why would you even joke about something like that? Why would you even want to take responsibility for the corporation that is destroying our world? Devouring its resources, ravaging its species, killin
g its children?”

  He shook his head, disgust writhing in his gut. “To even pretend such a thing, it’s sick.”

  “Tell me, Eli Harper,” The Mask said, tilting back to look at the stars. “What would you do to ensure your continued existence?”

  The question was odd, but seemed sincere. Eli found himself replying without thought.

  “I sure as hell wouldn’t destroy everything in my path, that’s for sure.”

  “Ah, but that is simply a matter of perspective. Where you see destruction, I see the birth pains of something greater. A new world, a better world.”

  Eli shook his head in disgust. “You don’t get to decide that.”

  “And yet, here we are. It’s already been decided. You yourself are the proof of that. As am I.”

  “You still aren’t making any sense,” Eli told him. He could not feel the cold any more. It seemed as though a fire was burning in his soul, staving off the wind’s bite.

  “Let me ask it a different way, that you would perhaps better understand. What would you do to ensure Mabel’s continued existence?”

  Eli stiffened. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

  “Not at all. Merely an honest question.”

  “I don’t know,” Eli said after a moment. “Anything, I guess.”

  “Then I say again,” The Mask concluded, “the end justifies the means. I have done what is necessary to make certain that what has been, will be. I have heeded the call of destiny, and in doing so hope to ensure that my life, and the lives of those I have cared for, are not forgotten to the whispers of what might have been.

  “I am tired, Eli. My path has not been without its challenges...or without its regrets. There has been much to atone for, and yet more still each passing day. But I draw closer to the finish line with every breath. Each day I wake up and find the drive to continue on, knowing that in the end, it will not have been in vain. I must go forward, because I cannot go back, no matter how hard I have tried.”

  Eli took several steps back, shaking his head. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m pretty sure you’re insane. I’m going back.”

  He turned and began the long trek toward Cedar Grove.

  “Destiny comes for us all, Eli Harper,” The Mask called over his shoulder. “It will come for you, too, soon enough.”

  Twelve

  Into the Belly of the Beast

  OLLIE’S expression was appalled.

  “I most certainly will not get caught! I wish you’d have a little faith in me, Gavin. I mean, I know Onyx thinks I’m incompetent,” at this Onyx shrugged, tilting her head a little to the side to indicate that it was true, “but I thought that you—”

  “You’re not getting it, Ollie,” Gavin said. “I want you to get caught. That’s our way in.”

  “You...want...?” Ollie looked mildly confused even as he nodded. “Oh. Okay. I can do that.”

  “So, Ollie makes a commotion and we slip inside during the confusion?”

  Onyx leaned delicately against the arm of a red velvet sofa with an approving look on her face.

  “It’s risky. Really risky. Once we find the Weaver, how do you expect to force our way back out through a bunch of Envicti and clone soldiers?”

  Gavin offered her the hint of a grin. “Pluto.”

  Cyril’s head looked heavy as he regarded each of his disheveled guests in turn, swiveling on his shoulders to fix each of them with a wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

  “You’re all mad. You can’t honestly be considering this. What idiot would get himself captured on purpose? This is a terrible plan.”

  “No one asked you, Cyril,” Ollie quipped, seeming pleased to be a part of something which Cyril was not.

  Onyx’s eyes flashed with fiery enthusiasm. “We’d need to be fast. We have to get in before Nero arrives. If he gets there before we’re out, we’ll be under a spotlight. And how certain are you that you can pilot Pluto?”

  Gavin shrugged noncommittally. “About as certain as I am about this idea in general. Ambrose showed me around the cockpit. It seemed simple enough.”

  “But it was damaged. It wasn’t capable of flying.”

  “They would have fixed that.” Gavin’s reply was confident.

  At last, it felt like they were making headway. “I’m sure they would have fixed it so that they could study it in action.”

  Ollie’s eyes went wide with alarm. He’d begun to pace back and forth across the room.

  “Won’t they lock me up? How will I get out if they lock me up?”

  “Let me worry about that.” Onyx flashed him a grin. “I never met a door I couldn’t open. I’m willing to bet they have a lot more security focusing on the entrances than on the interior.”

  Cyril gave an exaggerated eye-roll. “This is insane. How can you even consider such a reckless course of action? This is Tapestry, for Thera’s sake, not a suicide task force. We think things out, we plan each move. We don’t barge into the one of the most well-guarded facilities on the planet and expect to come out again! Your ’plan’ is all based on conjecture! If the ship will fly, if you can get Ollie out, if security is lighter inside...”

  “First, there’s no ‘we’, Cyril. You’re staying here. And we don’t have time to think of a better plan. Nero will be here in a matter of days, and then it will be too late.”

  “It will be too late for all of you.” Cyril’s reverence was gone now, and his anger radiated off of him like a wave of heat. “Or haven’t you heard? The First Order has been rescinded.”

  The silence in the room was absolute.

  Ollie had stopped pacing, and all eyes were now on Cyril, who drew himself up importantly with a curt nod.

  “That’s right. I only just heard. Nero has declared that in the interest of Thera’s continued security, anyone deemed an enemy of the state will be subject to summary execution.”

  He looked pointedly at Ollie. “If you get taken into that facility, they will kill you.”

  Ollie swallowed hard. “I don’t believe it. The people will never allow it. The First Order is sacred to some for Thera’s sake. They view it as if it were a divine commandment.”

  “It’s true,” Gavin confirmed. “I heard Nero’s speech myself.”

  Onyx glared. “And you didn’t think to share that crucial piece of information?”

  She was right. Gavin couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

  “I didn’t mean to...in the rush to get away…I mentioned it to Wendell. I thought you heard. But Cyril’s right, of course. What’s wrong with me? I can’t believe I’d forgotten… we need a new plan.”

  “No we don’t,” Ollie said quickly. “The plan is fine the way it is. Anything we do is going to be a huge risk. We at least have a chance. More than we’ve got if we sit by and do nothing.”

  “We’ll do something,” Gavin replied. “But we can’t use you as bait. I want to believe that they wouldn’t just kill you without so much as a trial, but we’re in uncharted territory here. I can’t guarantee your safety. You’re a wanted fugitive, after all.”

  “Well I didn’t ask for a guarantee.” Ollie crossed his arms and raised his chin like a stubborn child. “I don’t need your permission.”

  Gavin stood up, looking down on Ollie with a serious expression.

  “This isn’t a game, Ollie. We are talking about a life or death situation. The stakes have changed, and I don’t like our odds.”

  Ollie returned his stare, his eyes full of unwavering resolve.

  “I’m willing to take the chance,” he said in a low, determined voice. “It’s the right thing to do. We don’t have a lot of time, Gavin. Make the call. You know he’d have done it for us.”

  Gavin looked from the young man, who not so long ago he had written off as a hopeless scatterbrain who would turn tail and run the moment things got heated.

  How wrong he’d been.

  He looked at Onyx, who nodded despite the concern etched on her face. Regardless of her constant complaints
about Ollie, Gavin knew she had no desire to see him killed. But Gavin had allowed himself to get so caught up in his emotions, he’d forgotten about Nero’s changes. And if he could forget something as important as the kill order, even for a moment, what else might he have forgotten in his plans? What other risks was he overlooking?

  “Are you certain about this?” Gavin asked Ollie after a long moment. “You understand what you’re offering here? Really understand?”

  Ollie nodded without the slightest hesitation.

  “All right, then,” Gavin said, feeling his stomach clench. “Let’s do it.”

  Cyril threw his hands up in defeat and stormed out of the room.

  The tension hung heavy in his wake.

  ***

  Gavin scanned the military factory as they waited in a nearby alley.

  They’d picked the spot because it was as close as they could get without running into a patrol. It faced a secondary entrance, one that didn’t have as many guards as the front gate.

  There were only four here, and Ollie would have to distract all of them for the plan to have any chance of succeeding. They couldn’t risk knocking the guards out or killing them; the next patrol to come around the building would be alerted to the intruders as soon as they saw the unguarded doorway.

  He wondered what the Weaver would have thought of their reckless plan. He wouldn’t have approved, but then again, the Weaver wasn’t here.

  That was the whole problem. This was Gavin’s mission. His idea.

  He only hoped that it worked.

  Ollie appeared, coming from the opposite direction and stumbling along the middle of the dark street, a large brown bottle swinging in his hand.

  Gavin had felt it would have been better to wait a day, scope the place out, but Onyx had convinced him that it was now or never. They did not know when Nero would arrive, and the plan would be even trickier if they attempted it during the day.

  As he’d expected, two guards materialized from beneath the arch of the doorway, facing Ollie.

  “Stop and declare yourself,” one of them said in a loud, clear voice. “It’s past curfew.”