by SF Benson
Not this again. “He did everything we asked him to.”
He tapped the steering wheel. “It doesn't matter.”
I glanced at him. “You just don't like my dad.”
“Oh, I definitely don't like him. He's too damn arrogant. He thinks no one else can keep you safe.”
“Why would you say that?” I stretched and rolled my shoulders.
“Hate to disappoint you, but I understood everything you and your dad said.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Okay, so how many languages do you speak?”
He flashed a cocky wink and a confident smile. “Five. English, Korean, Hindi, Spanish, and Portuguese. I’m not fluent in Farsi.”
I laughed.
He frowned. “What's so funny?”
“You and my dad are a lot alike.”
“Huh?”
“My dad speaks English, Spanish, Portuguese, and French. Both of you are multi-lingual, temperamental, and you care so much for those around you.”
“Yeah right.” A smile parked on his face.
“When I first met you, I thought you were arrogant. Not someone I’d care about.”
“So you care about me?” He arched a sly brow.
I shrugged. “You’re growing on me.”
“Ouch. Make me sound like a fungus or something.”
“Or something.” I winked. “My dad is worried about me. That's all.”
“He doesn't have to be.” Zared squeezed my hand. “Y’know you've got me.”
“Are you all the protection I need against the CHA?”
“No, and we're taking care of that.”
“You’re talking about my dad’s gun?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d rather not.” I didn’t like guns. Yes, I carried a knife. That was different. How many times have you heard reports of my knife went off by accident?
“Would you like to have a fighting chance against the CHA?” He regarded me.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. This is about keeping you safe.”
We exited the car at a field near our hideout. Trash, abandoned car parts, and concrete blocks from demolished structures turned the area into a dump yard.
Zared set up some old bottles and cans on concrete blocks for targets and removed my dad’s weapon from his jacket. The thought of handling a gun unnerved me. Guns weren’t toys and came with responsibility.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked.
Rivulets of sweat ran uncontrollably down my back. It’s not as if I had any other choice. “What do I need to do?”
“First, know what you have. This is a Glock G30S. It’s a .45 caliber pistol. A semi-automatic.” Zared held the gun pointed to the ground. “Always assume your gun is loaded. Don’t point at anyone unless you’re going to use it.”
“Isn’t there a safety lock or something?”
“On a Glock, it’s all internal. There’s a trigger safety. If you don’t press it and the trigger at the same time, it won’t fire. But still, it’s better to be safe. Keep the gun pointed down. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”
“Got it.” Zared may not have been a fan of Riza Corps, but they rubbed off on him. He stood taller with his shoulders pushed back. His eyes flickered with authority. Everything about his stature demanded my attention.
He pressed a button behind the trigger and removed a long, black rectangular piece from the bottom of the gun’s grip. “This is the magazine. It’s where your ammo is stored.” He pulled back on the top half of the gun. “This is the slide. You pull this back to check for ammo.” He shoved the magazine into place.
I flinched at the loud click.
“There’s a proper way to grip a gun. Don't do that one-handed crap. You'll miss your target.” He stepped closer to me. “You’re right-handed?”
“Yes.”
Zared placed the incredibly light gun in my trembling hand. He placed his hand over mine and adjusted my grip. My muscles quivered. Personally, I never liked guns. In my mind they were weapons of mass destruction, something I wanted no part of.
Once again, my body was at war. My brain said, Pay attention while my hormones kicked in their own message. The warmth radiating from his body distracted me from his lesson.
He exhaled loudly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Give me the gun.”
“Why?”
He extended his hand. “I’ve never taught anyone how to do this. It would help if you paid attention.” He took the gun from me. “You’re a Creative. Watch what I do.”
He gripped the gun and placed his feet wide. “Aim at your target. Sights are on top of the gun. The target is in the center of them. When it’s lined up, you squeeze the trigger.”
“I thought you pulled a trigger.”
“Just do what I said. Remember to exhale. Before you inhale, shoot.”
The first time I fired the gun, I panicked and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Tru,” Zared yelled at me. “You have to keep your eyes on the target, or you’ll kill one of us.”
The second time the kick back stunned me. The muzzle raised, and I flinched.
I practiced for what felt like hours. The skin on my hand, rubbed raw from the slide catching it, stung. After I hit a few targets, I removed the empty magazine and handed the gun back to Zared.
“No. It’s yours now. Remember I have my own.” He glanced at the gun. “Oh, one more thing…”
“What?”
“Never put the gun away without checking the slide. There could always be another bullet in there.”
I pulled back on the slide, confirmed it was empty, tucked the gun in my waistband, and slipped the magazine in my front pocket. Having the gun may have made Zared and Dad feel better, but it repulsed me.
“Thanks for teaching me, but I hope I don't need to use it.”
“That makes two of us.”
I trailed behind him on the way to the car. He rested against the car waiting for me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shrugged. So much had happened in a matter of days. Ko’s leaving, reconnecting with Zared, Cris’ death, Mom’s arrest, and discovering Eden was with Riza. I hadn’t had enough time to process it all. “I guess. I just want the nightmare to be over.”
He scrutinized my face. Was it obvious I lied?
“You’re not having your regular nightmares anymore.”
You don’t have nightmares, if you don’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares returned. Now they included my parents and Cris. I got a few hours each night before the disturbing images invaded my slumber.
“Tru, are you sleeping?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.
“What?” I responded curtly. He couldn’t know the truth.
Zared lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Of course I’m sleeping.” I studied the dirt on the ground. He didn’t need to worry about me.
The silence between us grew thick, unbearable. He stroked my cheek. “Don’t lie. You, of all people, shouldn’t lie.”
I glared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
He dropped his hand. “Nothing. Get in the car. We’ve spent enough time in the open for one day.”
We both knew what he meant. He didn’t have to throw it in my face. Fortunately, my phone buzzed with a text message from Dad. The plans were delivered to Motown.
“Z—”
“I know. I just got a message from Motown. We’re to meet him near the Academy.” He leaned his head back. “Tru, you need to sleep. You can’t—”
“I’ll be fine, Z. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You should try.”
He cupped my cheek. His smoky, dark eyes lingered on mine reflecting my heart’s deepest desires. “I don’t want to help it. I—”
“What?” My heart leaped. What was he going to say?
He removed his hand. “Nothing. We have to go.”
My father came through for us with the floorplans. We spread them out on the dashboard.
“Do you still doubt my dad?” I asked with a lackluster smile.
“I do.” Zared clenched his jaw.
“If he wanted to pull something, these would be on a handheld. Then we’d be easier to track.”
He nodded. “I still don't like the man.”
“I know, I know.” I clamped my lips together.
Well, there was one thing Mom didn’t invent. She once told me girls tended to prefer guys who reminded them of their fathers. Zared and Dad were both stubborn, opinionated, and wanted to protect me. She might be right.
I continued to study the plans. “The day I went to RMA, I entered through the main door here.” I pointed out the entrance. “I went up a set of stairs, opened a door, and entered some sort of reception area. Here's the door to the right of the stairs. Those stairs led down to the basement.”
“These plans are old dating back to 1995,” he said. “And this building used to have classrooms, a theatre, and a planetarium.”
The age of the floor plan wasn’t important. We simply needed a basic layout. “Well, I didn’t see any of that. There's a lab down there now. I remember seeing touch screens, too. Plus, there's something behind double doors on the left side of the basement. I couldn't see through them, though.”
Zared pointed to another area of the floor plan. “The first floor has another entrance on the east side. If it’s not heavily guarded, we enter there.”
I shook my head. “But it’s not a direct route to the basement. We can’t avoid the cameras that way.”
He rubbed his neck. “You mentioned computers?”
“Yes, touch screens.”
“I’ll hack into the network. I need to contact Motown. We're doing this right in the open.”
I cocked my head. “Aren't we trying to stay undetected?”
“Yeah. And I plan on us blending in with everyone else.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry. Y’know, Motown can get us whatever we need.”
He leaned over and kissed me. The butterflies made a repeat performance. Well, more of an interlude instead of a full act.
“What was that for?”
“Just because.” He wrapped me in his arms.
I needed this mission to be over soon so that we could have a future together. It was imperative that I avoid the CHA. Tomorrow marked my deadline.
“The New Order has the right to secure any dwelling to house Riza military whenever it is deemed necessary.”
—Bill of Trust, the American Republic, 2020
Motown snagged us Riza recruit blue uniforms. The street criminal also picked up a foldable handheld for Zared. We sat in the car about a mile away from RMA while he uploaded a self-replicating virus into Riza’s private network, R-Net.
“I’m in. The virus is loaded. Do you remember the plan?”
“Yes.” I stared out the window. Of course, I remembered the plan. I didn’t like it, but I remembered it. If we got caught, what next?
He scrutinized me. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Why?” I adjusted the brim of the military-style cap.
“You seem a little distracted.”
We shared a weird connection, like he sensed when something was wrong with me. I needed to distract him. “Well, you are sitting next to me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
What a lame comment! “Just go. We don’t have all night.”
He exited the car and headed for the rail station. I watched him board an approaching car. The train pulled off, and I drove off. We were to meet at the Academy rail station.
I yawned. The sleepless nights needed to stop. If I faced my demons, the nightmares might go away. Right. I wouldn’t put too much hope in that happening. The demons tormented my mind with images that scared the crap out of me. I was desperate for a good night’s sleep. Maybe Motown had something for that.
We were so close to getting the proof needed to expose the New Order. I thought the journal was enough. His father detailed everything we needed to know. But Zared wanted physical evidence of the experiments. What happened once we got it?
If I took another look at the card, I might find the actual program on it. If accessing the info alerted Riza, however, logging on again might earn us the same fate.
I cut the motor and waited for Zared. The car door opened, and he jumped in. Time for action.
“Any problems?”
“No. I left the device underneath a seat for a crew member to find.”
“Now what?” I leaned against the car door.
“We wait. Y’know, the virus should be showing itself about now. Riza security will scramble to stop it, and hopefully remove the guard detail off the doors.”
Hopefully.
“When do we go inside?” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Patience. We're just waiting for Motown to do his thing.” Zared checked his weapon as the lights went out around us. “That's our signal. You ready?”
I loaded Dad’s gun. Something worried me right down to my soul, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I leaned over, threaded my hand through Zared’s hair, and kissed him, breaking away right before we lost control.
“Now, I am.”
Beep-beep-beep. An alarm echoed around us, the only sign something was off. I figured there’d be security teams to dodge, but there were none. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. My ever-present little voice screamed, danger ahead. We plodded through the lobby cast in an eerie red glow, past the empty front desk, and down the stairs to the basement. Quiet. Dark. Cold. Something was very, very wrong.
I hurried to the set of double doors, put my hand on the knob, and…click…the doors opened. Maybe hacking the system removed the locks. My heart hammered against my chest. I reached for Zared’s hand, and we entered the room.
The small, rectangular space had a wall of black metal file cabinets. On the opposite wall were large silver drawers, like in a morgue, with clipboards attached to them. Ice water ran through my veins. My mind created wild scenarios of dead soldiers in varying states of decay.
Zared lifted a clipboard and read it aloud: “Cadet #24852 Cardoza: DNA Type 2. Cadet #35772 Nakamoura: DNA Type 1.”
He opened the drawer. I bit my lip. Instead of a body, the refrigerated drawer contained test tubes. I exhaled. A file detailing data from experiments on the two cadets rested next to the vials.
“Bingo! It's the proof we need.” My heart did back flips. This nightmare would soon be over.
Before we could move, a bright light shone behind us.
“Drop your weapons now.”
Crap! I recognized the cold voice. My heart plunged. “Would you really shoot us, Eden?”
Zared mouthed, “Your sister-in-law?”
I nodded.
“Care to find out?”
The overhead lights flashed on. We lowered our weapons and faced a team of five men with guns pointed at us.
“Take them into custody.”
“The purpose of the Worldwide Genetic Engineering Advisory Board is to oversee the human genetic and reproductive technologies developed by the nations. These technologies may create immeasurable challenges by their creators.”
—UN Worldwide Genetic Engineering Advisory Board, 2020
I squirmed in the rear of the vehicle, taking in the changing landscape. Gray concrete and steel replaced the buildings of New Jefferson. We were on the bridge to New Belle Isle. Families used to enjoy the state run park—a zoo, an aquarium, and even a nighttime light show at the marble fountain. Ten years ago, the government required citizens to purchase park passports, attempting to decrease crime and homelessness. The New Order took over the island and made it the headquarters for the New Detroit branch of the CHA. Access was granted to employees, the security squad, and those scheduled for th
eir Inoculation Day.
The sedan made its way across the long, desolate bridge lit up against the dark sky. We stopped briefly for the driver to flash a badge at the security gate. The vehicle rolled past the guard, made a quick right, and approached a stone and shingle old-world farmhouse. The car screeched to a stop, knocking me into the front seat. I struggled to sit up, but the restraints holding my wrists behind my back made it difficult.
Where was Zared? I felt another panic attack brewing. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. I wouldn’t give Eden the satisfaction. That bitch separated us, possibly thinking we’d talk if not together. Or she just wanted to torment me. Either way, she wouldn’t win.
My throat burned from unshed tears, but I had to stay strong. Stay focused in order to see Zared and my parents again. My survival…no our survival depended on the right decisions, not the place nor the time for self-pity.
I remembered my blade inside my boot. Useless. The car door jerked open, and a large, ruddy man dragged me from the back seat. He shoved me from behind. I stumbled and fell. The man yanked me to my feet. Another guard opened the wooden door. I glanced over my shoulder. Every nerve in my body twitched, begging me not to enter the building. The guard didn’t care and shoved me into the lobby.
The New Order had a thing for sterile environments. Even the interior of the CHA headquarters was antiseptic—white walls, white tile floors, and chrome. Just like the RMA lobby. Security team members rushed me through the hall to Eden’s office on the upper level.
Our apartment would fit into Eden’s palatial office with room to spare. Expensive antiques, a black leather sofa, and a pair of white suede chairs outfitted the space. Eden sat behind a glass and chrome desk at the opposite end. A team member forced me to my knees.
“Leave us,” she hissed.
Eden tossed her horse’s mane of dark hair and twisted her mouth. “You don't know how long I've waited for this day.”
She infuriated me more than I ever thought possible. My body tensed. I wanted to kill the bitch. If it weren’t for the restraints, I would have gladly ripped her heart out and fed it to the vultures outside our apartment. This woman killed my brother and arrested my mother. All I needed was one chance, just one opportunity and I’d bury her.
