“Shit,” Reid says. “I am worried.”
“Why?” Benji laughs.
“You were my hero until this moment,” Reid answers. “You made it to your late thirties without any wife, kids, or baby mamas. Now you’re gonna just throw all that away.”
“You talk a big game, but I know you love Rose.”
Reid smiles. “I do. I’m happy for you, Benji. You and Claire. When you gonna do it?”
“I’m thinking next Saturday night. A buddy of mine has waited for me to get the custom ring before asking his girl the same question. This way we can do it on the same night.”
“So, Carlos is finally gonna make an honest woman out of Karen, too?”
“Damn you, Reid. I wasn’t supposed to divulge that. I forget that you’re almost as good a detective as I was. Promise you won’t disclose to anyone else what I’ve said.”
“I can wait eight days.”
“I can’t,” Benji admits.
He dunks his sandwich into his soup and takes another bite. He washes that down with a long slurp of soda.
“This AC is growing on me,” Benji states.
“Two words,” Reid says with upmost sincerity. “Strip club.”
“Obviously.” Benji laughs.
“I just wanted to make sure,” Reid says back.
The two friends finish their lunches and throw their trash away.
Mitch opens the front door of his small house. Smith stands there in a blue pinstriped suit. He holds a bouquet of roses and a wrapped gift behind his back.
“Is it my birthday?” Mitch wonders aloud.
Smith gives Mitch a kiss and hands the flowers over.
“No, but you deserve to be treated, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Mitch looks at his dingy house clothes and tries to cover up.
“I’m not ready for this. I look a mess.”
“You look great, baby.”
“If you insist. I won’t argue the point.”
Mitch leads Smith into his living room and places the flowers onto the coffee table.
“I’ll find a vase later,” Mitch mentions.
Smith hands the small package to Mitch.
“What’s this?” Mitch asks with intrigue.
“I hope you like it.”
Mitch tears the kangaroo wrapping paper off the package and finds a paperboard box. He opens it and discovers the dot painting Smith purchased in Perth. Mitch holds a hand to a quivering lip.
“Oh my, it’s beautiful,” Mitch says as he tears up.
Smith also becomes emotional. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a flake lately. I promise I’ll explain it all soon, but for now, just know it isn’t another man, and it isn’t possible for me to lose interest in you.”
Mitch plants a soulful kiss on Smith’s lip. Smith returns in kind.
“Follow me,” Mitch whispers. “I’ve got this neat trick to show you in the bedroom.”
Smith grins and begins to take off his suit jacket.
“No, leave it on. My trick requires me to do that for you.”
Smith moves a little quicker to follow Mitch to the bedroom.
“Comms check,” Nick says into his headset.
Standing next to him are Ibbles and Aaron.
“Hot Box here. I’ve got the suspect in sight forty meters southeast of me.”
“Flashbang checking in. The suspect just passed me.”
“This is Moon Glare. I’m watching from the second floor. He seems calm.”
“This is Beast Mode. I’m in the changing room in the department store across from the food court.”
“Good,” Nick says. “My guys have the exits surrounded and are ready to engage when you give the sign.”
Nick turns off his hot microphone and turns to Ibbles.
“Are you sure about this one? He’s a murderer.”
“He’s effective. It’s taken us a long time to find him, and we’re lucky he decided to come back to Yama.”
“That mall is full of civilians. If he resists, we’re gonna have collateral damage.”
“That’s my problem, not yours. You just have to worry about crowd control.”
“Let it go, man,” Aaron says as he gives Nick’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Whatever,” Nick mumbles.
“Operation Cut the Fuse is a go,” Ibbles orders.
OP contemplates purchasing a cinnamon and sugar pretzel. He notices an attractive woman standing in line behind him while looking at the reflection on the display case. He feels cold and decides that he’s no longer hungry. In fact, he no longer wants to shop at all. He just wants to go to his hotel room and hang out on the couch watching television.
OP works his way through the mall to the entrance closest to his parked rental car. As he passes out the door he rubs a hand along the door frame.
“Shit!” the woman curses.
She stops pacing him and dives behind the directory display just as the entrance to the mall explodes. The woman pulls a sliver of shrapnel from her arm and grabs the wound. She looks down and touches another long metal splinter sticking out of her leg.
“Are you okay?” a short man asks as he rushes to her side.
“I’m fine,” she answers. “Get him before he escapes.”
This exchange confirms OP’s suspicion that The Enterprise is trying again to capture him. This time they’re using augments.
OP runs through the parking lot. Bullets explode all around him as they try to end his life. Occasionally he spots soldiers aiming at him. OP takes delight in making their weapons explode in their faces. He counts the numbers of screams he hears and tries to keep track. He thinks he’s killed at least three, but innocent bystander screams may affect that guess. He finds it odd that the attackers wear American Army uniforms.
OP turns down a random aisle in the parking lot when a pair of energy spheres land in front of him. OP is unconcerned by them and instantly regrets the decision when they explode and blind him. He falls to his knees as his head pounds from tinnitus. He tries to force himself to stand when he feels a powerful, large hand pin him to the pavement. OP prepares to charge the offending arm when he has a mask thrust in his face and feels a mist. Within a second, he feels nothing at all as sleep overtakes him.
Chapter 7
Lottery and Patrick stand in front of a half-dozen cardboard targets. Ice-like shards are strewn at Patrick’s feet. Abel approaches Votary.
“How goes the training?” Abel asks.
“Lottery’s trying to help him find a way to control his augmentation better, Father.”
“I see,” Abel muses. “Where are the other recruits?”
“Compel and Seal Pup took them on a climb of Kilimanjaro.”
“Without any workup? How bold,” Abel says. “Does DJ need your help?”
“I’m always available for you, Father.”
“Good. I need you to pay a visit to Miss Gallery. It’s time we try to get her to join us.”
“She told Shot Caller she wasn’t interested.”
“He sometimes doesn’t understand that he needs to approach people differently and can’t treat them all the same. Now it’s your turn to try.”
“Yes, Father. I’ll go immediately to prep the Eden.”
Votary walks away. Abel turns his attention to Lottery and Patrick.
“I think I’ve got it,” Lottery announces.
“I hope so,” Patrick says.
“You fire beams from your hands, and they turn the air solid as they travel to your target.”
Patrick looks at the frozen air shards by his feet.
“You figured that out all by yourself, did ya?”
“Try and concentrate on lobbing orbs of energy instead.”
“Bonney idea, but how do I do that?�
� Patrick asks.
“Just think of doing it that way. Imagine the energy swirling around your hands instead of spreading from your fingertips and throw them. It should allow you to control your impact on the environment. We can’t use you if you remain such a collateral damage risk.”
“Well then, let’s bloody well make sure I’m not banjaxed. I want to help you fight the Malignant.”
Patrick looks at his hands. He sees a light blue energy swirling around his clenched fists. He throws them at the two nearest targets. They both turn into a soupy mixture and spill to the floor.
“That was simple,” Patrick says with surprise.
“You’re a natural, Paddy,” Lottery compliments. “It makes me wonder if you were just trying to get out of a little hike up a mountain.”
“I’d never spurn my load,” Patrick says. “But I’ll admit to not feeling too left out.”
Lottery slaps Patrick on the shoulder. The blow moves the old man a step forward.
“Sorry,” Lottery says. “I forgot you didn’t have your armor yet.”
“Any word on when we’ll get it?” Patrick asks as he rubs his shoulder.
“Have they already asked for your designs?”
“They have. Although I had to change it after all the shite the others put me through.”
“What do you mean?”
“They begged me to pick green and use shamrocks in my design.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I don’t care that much. If they want to make sure I’m the Irishman, I’ll bloody damn well be the Irishman.”
Lottery rubs the Vishnu emblem on his own armor.
“I totally understand.”
Gallery is on the set for a music video shoot. The night air is gradually becoming cool, and she stops to have a cigarette next to her trailer. She looks for her pack and lighter, forgetting that her revealing outfit of bra, panties, and devil wings doesn’t allow for pockets. She opens the door to her lavish on-set trailer and steps inside.
The moment the door closes behind her, she sees a shimmering purple wall cover it.
“Don’t be alarmed.” Votary’s synthesized voice startles her.
She turns around and looks at him, but not with terror. She points her hands at Votary and threatens the original Templar.
“What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!”
“I’m here to talk to you.”
“Then go through my agent.”
“You know who I am.”
“So? I already told your friend that I wasn’t interested. I’m not going to kill people because you tell me to. I don’t believe in the death penalty.”
“The Malignant do.”
“Who the hell are the Malignant?”
“Get dressed, come with me, and I’ll tell you.”
Gallery laughs at Votary. “Well, that’s a first. Normally people demand I take more clothes off.”
“Please just come with me. Father needs you.”
“Who’s Father? Is he that Abel guy the nuts worship?”
“Father isn’t a nut. He’s the only person who can save us.”
“From the Malignant?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know they’re coming back?”
“Because Father told me.”
“And you believe everything your parents tell you? I guess Santa Claus must be an augment, too, huh?”
Gallery attempts to shake the door, but the barrier doesn’t allow her fingers to wrap around the handle.
“Let me out of here. You’ve had your peep show. Take a pair of panties if you must, but let me go.”
“We aren’t done with our conversation.”
“I say we are.”
Gallery points her fingers at Votary, put nothing happens. She grunts and shakes her hands, but still doesn’t get the results she desires.
“It’s not your augmentation; it’s mine.”
“What did you do to me?”
“Try again.”
Gallery follows the direction. Two beams of solar energy fly straight toward Votary and disappear six inches before hitting his torso.
“What the hell?”
“There’s always someone stronger. Come with me, and I can show you how to take him down anyway.”
“Help!” Gallery screams. “Help me!”
“Please don’t. You know they can’t help you, and I’m not a threat. You can stay if you want, but I beg you to come.”
“I hear that daily. Why do you think that plea will work?”
“Are you alright?” a security guard asks as he bangs on the door.
“I have a lunatic in here with me. Get me out!”
The handle jiggles, but the door remains closed.
“Ma’am, please unlock it!”
“I can’t!”
Votary stands with his arms crossed while Gallery panics.
Karen walks into Miss Ery’s in her police uniform. Claire flags her over to her booth with Brock. Karen waves at Claire and stiffly walks over to her. She passes Reid as she goes and bumps into him as he picks up his lunch order.
“Hey, Karen. Great minds think alike, huh?” he says.
“Sure, I guess,” Karen flatly responds.
“Where’s your partner?”
“Maria had to take a sick day,” Karen answers.
“Okay. You meeting up with someone?”
Karen motions toward Claire and Brock. “Claire needs my help with something.”
“Oh, really,” Reid says with immense interest. “I thought he was waiting.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It was a prank that Benji was talking about. Mind if I tag along?”
Karen shrugs. “No, the more, the merrier.”
Claire watches as Karen has her conversation with Reid.
“You tense, baby?” Brock asks.
“Shhh. Don’t say things like that around here. People could hear you.”
Claire feels Brock nonchalantly rub her inner thigh from under the table. She kicks her leg up and bangs the top of his hand into the bottom of the table.
“Ow,” Brock says. “Okay, I’ll wait until we get back to your place. Or how about your office like last time?”
“Shut up. She’s coming,” Claire warns.
Karen walks over with Reid.
“He invited himself,” Karen states.
“I hope it’s okay,” Reid adds.
Claire is actually relieved to have another alpha male at the table. “Sure. Where’s Maria?”
“She’s sick. Why is that such a big surprise?”
Claire throws up her hands. “Okay, no big deal. Anyone want to order anything to eat?”
“I thought that was the whole point of coming here,” Brock says.
Claire looks for a friendly face to wave over. “Where’s Carlos?”
“I don’t know. I may be his boss, but I’m not his keeper,” Karen answers. “Mitch is over there.”
“Hey, Mitch!” Reid shouts after taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Can we get some menus over here?”
“Sure!” Mitch shouts back. “Let me just drop everything.”
“I appreciate it, buddy!” Reid exclaims.
Carlos enters Miss Ery’s with both hands tucked inside the pockets of a baggy jacket. His cane isn’t present. He walks without a limp to Claire’s table. A table near Carlos is inexplicably pushed to the side. Claire is certain Carlos didn’t come close to touching it.
Carlos reaches the table and stands before the diners. His eyes quiver with what looks like terror, but the rest of his buddy is cool and collected.
“Hey, baby–” Karen starts.
It’s as far as she gets before Carlos pulls out two futuristic
pistols from his jacket. He levels both at Karen’s face and pulls the triggers. Two large caliber bullets explode from the barrels and collide with Karen’s head. The remaining diners at the table jump from their seats out of instinct. Reid is able to clear his pistol from his holster. He’s shot in the arm by Carlos and drops his weapon to the floor. He grabs his arm and puts pressure on the bleeding.
Brock also pulls a pistol. Carlos shoots him twice in the chest from each pistol. His body is thrown over the back of the booth and crumbles in the one behind Claire.
Miss Ery’s explodes with chaos. The lunchtime crowd plows to the door. Many escape, but some stop moving. Claire struggles, but her body refuses to obey. It seems others are trapped, too. They include Mitch, Claire, Reid, and two waitresses. The cooks and dishwashers also march into the bar from the kitchen. In total, there are ten apparent prisoners left in the bar, as well as the bodies of Karen and Brock. All the assembled are somehow mute, despite their souls screaming in terror. Only their eyes betray their emotions.
Carlos finally speaks, but his voice sounds different. The words come out like he’s in a trance. “Everyone calm down. Please look at Officer Karen Whitmore.”
Claire finds she can move her head. She resists the urge to vomit and looks at Karen’s body. It’s slumped over the table. Claire notices something odd. There’s blood spilled across the table. It slowly flows across the flat surface and begins to spill in Claire’s paralyzed lap, but it’s not as much as she expected. Claire takes a closer look inside of Karen’s head, despite the revulsion in her stomach, and sees gears spinning.
“This body is a clone drone. Something that the Templars use to fool you,” Carlos says. “Karen is actually Compel. Now march.”
As one, each of the hostages grabs a chair from a nearby table and line them in two rows of five. They then sit in their seats.
“Claire,” Carlos says, “I would like you to film what is about to take place.”
“What’s about to take place?” Claire finds she is able to ask.
She wills herself not to fall apart in another life and death situation.
“Claire, I am going to give you back control of your body. Use it to do anything except report on the story and I will start killing your friends. No one else here is a clone drone. I checked with Detective Reid’s arm. Perhaps he will not bleed out before this is over.”
Sleepers and Scouts Page 19
