That wont come out, he thought.
Terrance’s heavy figure appeared through the hole in the wall, with heavy fists ready to break any other bones that he needed to.
Then there was a pleasant surprise, a man in the adjoining office grabbed Athan under his arms and lifted him to his feet.
“I’ve got him, Mr Floyd!” the man yelled triumphantly.
Terrance thundered toward him and Boothe appeared through the hole with wide eyes.
Athan smiled with relief as he sunk back into the body of the man who had been holding him.
It was like the world was in slow motion.
Terrance stepped forward and yelled at the man even as Evan Boothe raised his gun and fired…
Athan rolled onto the soft fleshy ground between two pillars of bone.
It was beautiful.
Too close. And they have Cal…
He looked up into the dark metaphysical sky and tried to breathe deeply.
While he was in this place his body would heal very quickly, but he couldn’t stay, he needed to get out and warn Brad, who was still on level 13.
A few moments were all he could afford.
Athan forced himself to stand and looked about at the bony towers around him, he needed a doorway.
There.
Just over the next rise.
He shambled along clutching at his bleeding arm and cradling his aching chest.
He could feel tears burning in his eyes. Not from the pain, but from the guilt of knowing that his friends were being imprisoned to lure him into a trap. They could kill them at any time.
Kiranda would be losing her mind, and Deadfall would have lost her temper and made things worse for herself. And Cal! He was working for the enemy. He was helping them catch his friends.
Cal didn’t even remember him. They hadn’t been as close as he and Ian, but they were friends. This was more than a choice at stake here. Cal was being controlled somehow and if he can be, what about Kiranda, or Deadfall? They would become obedient weapons of the enemy.
Eventually he found the spot.
A familiar mind, close enough that he could communicate with Brad.
Athan stepped back out into the physical world through the security guard he had seen leave the elevator earlier. The man had been about to sip his coffee when Athan stepped out of his body into the kitchen in front of him.
The man shook for a moment and dropped the cup that broke on the tiled floor.
Athan pressed the receiver on his earpiece. “Out now. You hear me? No questions. Out!”
“Affirmative,” was all Brad said in reply, and that was all Athan needed to hear. He turned to the terrified security guard and stepped back into his body as if it were nothing, and the man sunk to the floor sobbing, he had never been so frightened in all his life.
***
Brad pulled the decryptor and hard drive loose from the computer and shouldered his bag.
Athan had sounded serious.
He pushed open the door; saw that no one had triggered his motion sensors so he threw them straight into his bag and then he ran back to the stairwell.
He nearly made it to the ground floor, but with only three more flights to go, there was a crash.
One of the doors in the stairwell swung open just down the steps from him and a security guard looked up and spoke into his earpiece.
Before the guard could raise a gun a sedative dart punched into his chest leaving him crumpled on the landing.
Brad struggled to reload as he jumped down the steps two by two, and over the fallen man.
Finally the corridor that led to the outside door was in front of him, and the work experience boy stood looking dumbly at the man with electrician’s bag running down the corridor.
“Why are you…” He began to ask, then ran too, probably thinking the building was collapsing down behind them.
There was a flood of light as the boy opened the outside door and stumbled outside.
A security guard threw him to the concrete.
The guard looked down at the boy, then up at his fellow guardsman confused at the age and size of the perpetrator they had caught.
The distraction was enough. The first guard had only just looked up as Brad leaped off the steps and kicked foreword at the guard, hitting him square in the face. This knocked the guard to the ground where he hit his head, the second guard looked stunned a moment, then caught a dart in the neck and collapsed next to his comrade.
The boy stayed on the ground holding his head.
He’ll be fine. Just a few bruises.
He needed to get out fast.
The electricians van was gone, and he stood at the edge of the street about to make a run for it when a motorcycle pulled up along side him.
Aadi lifted the visor. “Quick my friend!”
It was all happening so fast that Brad didn’t have time to think about where Athan might be.
He leapt onto the back of the bike behind Aadi and held on. They didn’t have far to go, but he knew they would have to lose prying eyes first.
He desperately hoped they had what they needed.
Chapter 18
Six months ago.
TWIGS SNAPPED UNDER Terrance’s feet and low hanging eucalypt leaves slapped at his face as he ran through the undergrowth.
He was exhausted.
He had been on the run for hours.
The sound of motorbike engines screamed behind him like a pack of wolves chasing down the kill. It sent him forward with renewed fear and vigour.
He took a moment to catch his breath and look up through the treetops at the sky. The low position of the sun told him that it was evening, not long till dark. He would move more effectively in the dark.
Terrance had been living a quiet life in rural Victoria, away from cities and people. He loved the peace and quiet and he enjoyed the simple labours that earned him his income. Some days he helped put up fences, some days he’d repair a shed or plough a paddock. The people out there didn’t ask questions about where he had come from or who he was before. He was just Terry, the hard working farm hand.
Everything changed when a man from Melbourne turned up at the pub and apparently recognised him. The man asked about him and left quickly to make a phone call. Terrance Floyd didn’t realise his shitty luck. He was too preoccupied with socialising with the local farmers.
The man was PHC.
Terrance had grown careless. He still looked the same. Wore the same flannelette shirts and had the same shoulder length hair, even the short beard. He hadn’t bothered to disguise himself. He wasn’t good at this stuff. He was always the muscle, not the brains.
Terrance didn’t waste any time.
He packed a small bag and left the shearers’ quarters just before the PHC arrived. They arrived in two trucks and a brand new black car. It glittered in the light beneath the gum leaves as it rolled up the driveway, kicking up dust.
Terrance was already halfway up the hill behind the property when they pulled up at the farmhouse. He squatted on the hill and watched. A dozen men in khaki uniforms disembarked from the trucks with firearms and spread out around the house and the surrounding outbuildings.
This wasn’t fair on the farmer and his family.
This was between them and him.
The owner of the farm and his wife were being dragged from the house. She was screaming.
Terrance unzipped his backpack and pulled out his trusty little binoculars and watched. He couldn’t help himself.
There was discussion.
Pleading.
Lies.
The farmer had deemed Terrance trustworthy and a friend, he wasn’t going to sell him out.
Then a short bald man in a dark blue suit got out of the black car. Terrance sensed he was in charge. He seemed to be negotiating with the farmer.
There was a gesture from the bald man and one of the officers aimed a gun at the farmer’s wife. The farmer was a good man, but he wasn’t going to let his wife die. Afte
r some discussion the bald man sent two officers over to the shearers’ quarters.
Shit.
He had a hunch about how this story would end. He jammed the binoculars back in his bag and started running toward the bush. He hoped he could lose them in the national park behind the property.
Bang, bang!
He heard the shots echo through the hills that surrounded the property. They were too close.
Two bodies crumpled to the dusty ground.
Screaming motorbike engines cut through the trees.
They weren’t far behind him now. They must have raided the sheds back at the farmhouse. He recognised one of the motorbikes as the vehicle he would use to bring in the sheep. And he remembered filling the fuel tank.
He cursed under his breath.
It was one of the few times he actually remembered to do it.
As dusk filled the bush with shadows he began to hear voices calling out to one another. Torches flashed amongst the trunks of trees.
He was exhausted.
His plan was to get into the rocky part of the hills and then he could double back, or even attack them in the dark.
As he scuttled up the hill, he cut himself on a rock jutting out, hiding in shadow. It caught Terrance in the shin.
His head swam, and he heard himself yelp like a kicked dog.
Then came the sting.
He didn’t even hear it.
It spread like fire in the back of his leg. It was like he’d been stung by a whole nest of bull ants at once. But it wasn’t an insect. It was a bullet.
“What?” he stammered.
A second bullet hit him in the back.
“Surrender, big guy, or we just keep pokin’ holes in ya.” An American voice, somewhere behind him.
Terrance looked about frantically for some cover or a way out, but he saw none. He could feel the hot blood sticking his shirt to his back and running down his sides. He was pinned and he’d done it on his own. He dropped to the ground and decided to stay low. He hoped the tall brown grass or the spiky shrubs would hide him.
His leg was warm.
Bleeding, he thought.
He couldn’t run.
He had to fight.
The motor bikes halted and the voices grew louder. They had him now, but they wouldn’t take him alive.
He heard the crunching of twigs to his left and saw a figure in the dark and another came from the front.
He used all the energy he had for a last bout.
He launched himself at the man on his left, grabbing the rifle by the barrel and bending it in half, the metal folding like heavy gauge wire.
The man fired in panic and the firing mechanism exploded in his face sending him reeling back in pain.
The second man came fast at Terrance, and squeezed off two shots: one whizzing passed his head, the second imbedding in his shoulder.
Terrance lunged forward and grabbed the gun and the man’s arm. He wrenched his opponent quickly downward, the force breaking the bones in the man’s arm and neck when he hit the ground.
The bullets stung Terrance, but it took more than that to take him down. He was Post-Human.
Terrance could manipulate his body to strengthen or reshape his bones and repair breaks or injuries. It made him difficult to kill and gave him one hell of a right hook. He wasn’t invincible however and every bullet hurt. It’s why he called himself Cal, after his mother always telling him that he needed calcium for strong bones.
Another bullet glanced off his skull.
Blood rushed down his face and matted up his long hair.
Gunshots were ringing out from the dark now and bullets were hissing through the air like angry dragonflies.
He was surrounded.
Trapped.
Stinging erupted in his legs.
Searing pain.
They were shooting him in the legs.
Blood gushed and pain clouded his vision. He fell to his knees. He took a deep breath and tried to force down the pain.
“Hold your fire!” The American voice called out.
Figures began to emerge from the trees, rifles levelled at Terrance’s head. He knew one or two bullets wouldn’t do much damage, but more would kill him.
“I take it that this is a surrender, Mr Floyd? Or should I say Cal?”
The bald American man in the dark blue suit stepped through the deep grass and twigs so he could face him.
Terrance was out of breath and in pain; he didn’t have the energy to raise his hands.
“We have been looking for you and your little friends for quite some time. Imagine my surprise when I get tipped off that you are posin’ as a farm boy?”
The bald man came fearlessly close.
Two officers approached from either side. Like khaki ghosts.
“We gonna need you to come with us…” the bald American said as he nodded to the officers.
They stepped in and pushed the rifle barrels into his neck.
The bald man stood arrogantly in front of him lighting a cigarette. His dark blue suit appeared black now that the sun was gone. The man had said ‘Your little friends’. Terrance assumed this meant that they were hunting the members of The League. They were the only true friends he had ever had.
They won’t use me to find them!
Terrance brought up both elbows hard and fast into the bodies of the officers either side of him. The men’s ribs smashed to pieces under the impact, they were no longer a threat.
He wanted to kill the arrogant bald man.
He got to his feet and lurched forward on his ruined legs, leaving the two officers to collapse behind him.
A kick to the head from his left distracted him, but he grabbed the foot and snapped the leg in half. Then there was a thump of a rifle butt to the back of Terrance’s head.
Then another hit to the back of the head.
Finally he was shot in the wrist, followed by the other wrist.
The officers shoved him, face first, to the ground and he could taste the blood on the grass.
Someone pulled his bleeding hands hard behind his back, binding them in some kind of wire handcuffs. He could feel the metal biting his skin.
They rolled him onto his back and he strained to see what was happening through the blood that was sticking his eyelashes together.
“Now, you’re just a brute, through and through, ain’t ya?” The American man aimed a tranq-gun at him and fired. It was silent, but he felt the effects. Bright lights burst in front of his eyes and he felt like he was going to vomit.
“Boys, get some o’ that there rope and tie it round his feet. Tie it to the back o’ the bike.” The bald man chuckled. “Achilles is gonna drag his Hector back to the farmer’s castle.”
***
Terrance blinked away the urge to sleep. He had no idea where he was or how long he’d been there. He lay on a table where his limbs were stretched out and bound.
He tried to move.
It didn’t work.
He was drugged somehow.
He could see and breathe, but he couldn’t move or speak.
“Subject’s awake, Sir,” said a man’s voice, from somewhere to the right.
“Good, stand him up.” Another man. “I want him to see his new master.”
The operating table made an electronic whirring sound as it rose. When it was fully erect it clicked off and Terrance could see around the room. There were other operating tables, computers and typical laboratory equipment.
In the centre of the room was a curious figure dressed in a long black cloak with a hood. Beneath the hood was a shiny white mask. It had no features except two horizontal eye slots.
The figure stood with arms outstretched, long black vinyl gloves covering his hands.
Terrance was confused by the costume.
The last thing he remembered was being shot and beaten in the forest by PHC officers and an arrogant, bald, American man.
Who is this? Where am I?
“Be
hold! I am the future.” The figure lowered his arms. He was Australian. “I am your new master.” He stepped closer. The silent footsteps beneath the cloak made the man look as if he was drifting across the floor like a ghost.
An Angel of Death.
“N… No,” Terrance muttered through the pain and the drugs.
“Terrance Floyd, formerly of The League. Alias: Cal. Your body has a marvellous ability to transform your bones and heal your flesh. You’re an extraordinary specimen.”
The figure lifted his hand, drew back the hood and took off the mask. He was a man in his late twenties. His hair was professionally cut and styled and his features were immaculately clean-shaven and chiselled. He was a handsome man about his own age.
“Terry… Can I call you Terry? I know you don’t know where your friends are.” The man smiled showing perfect teeth. “It’s a great joke that you will now work for me. And when we do find the rest of your band of merry men, they will too. You see, I don’t need to worry about people like you anymore. We have much bigger fish to fry. And you are going to help us cook them.” The cloaked man stepped back. “Shepherd, bring me the serum.”
Another man crossed the room holding a plastic case. He was dressed in a suit and tie and had red curly hair. “’Ere boss.”
“Thank you. You can witness the birth of an era.” The man in the black cloak grinned as he opened the plastic case and brought out a silver contraption. He clipped a vial containing a brown liquid into the top.
“When you wake up, Mr Floyd, you won’t remember Cal, The League, or your friends. You will be working for me.”
Terrance watched as the silver injector was raised to his neck and felt a sting as the contents filled his bloodstream.
As he drifted back to sleep he watched the figure in the black robe standing in the laboratory.
There was a wide grin on his perfect face.
Chapter 19
Now.
ATHAN HAD BEEN shot.
He could feel the sting, like a red-hot coal dropped onto bare skin. He stepped out of the mind of a male nurse doing his rounds at the Melbourne hospital. He knew the mind of the nurse because he had been here before. It was at this hospital that he had freed the first of the coma patients.
The Post-Humans (Book 1): The League Page 18
