by Siegel, Alex
Carlos limped into the arena. One of his feet had grown back, but the other was still in the process of regenerating.
"Still working," Norbert said. "Don't go anywhere."
Smythe shook his head in disbelief.
He and Odelia sprinted around the arena as they tried to avoid Carlos while also fighting off the four lunatics. It was a ridiculous situation. Smythe hoped he would live long enough to remember this moment and smile.
Odelia got her feet tangled and fell. Carlos immediately rushed towards her. Smythe threw himself at Carlos in an attempt to knock him away from her. Carlos turned, and for an instant Smythe felt his deadly touch. The pain was extraordinary.
All the televisions turned bright white at once. The unearthly glow coming from every direction was the most amazing thing Smythe had ever experienced. It was like floating on heavenly clouds. The light seeped into his mind and filled him with total peace. All his thoughts came into crisp focus, and he began to remember things from his childhood.
Carlos staggered backwards. He took off his sunglasses, revealing bony eye sockets. All the lunatics collapsed to the ground and twitched as if they were having a seizure.
Smythe still felt pain in his chest, and he realized his heart wasn't beating properly. Carlos had come very close to killing him.
"Odelia!" Smythe gasped. "Help me."
Odelia crawled over with eyes glowing like burning coals. She kissed him passionately. It wasn't her normal technique, but it worked. The pain in his chest quickly faded.
Breaks began to form in Carlos' skin and clothes. The white light streamed through the cracks, prying them open. He slowly shattered into thousands of pieces. They shrunk and evaporated like morning dew in the sunlight until nothing was left. Carlos was finally gone.
The white light turned off.
"We have to help these people," Odelia said.
Smythe realized the four lunatics were no longer lunatics. Now they were just confused, scared, and injured victims. They didn't seem to remember what had happened to them. The healers went to work without answering any questions. These people didn't need to know the truth. It would be safest if they just went on with their lives in ignorance.
Norbert's voice boomed from above, "Come to the control room. It looks like a big water tank. Everybody else is meeting here including Aaron. I'll give you directions."
Smythe smiled grimly. He was looking forward to the conversation between Aaron and Wesley. It promised to be very entertaining.
Chapter Sixteen
Aaron stood in front of the fake water tank with his arms crossed. He was waiting for everybody else to show up. He wanted to be the last person to enter the room so everybody would hear what he had to say.
Smythe and Odelia finally arrived. They looked tired and a little disoriented, but they had no obvious injuries.
"You're limping," Aaron said. "Are you hurt?"
"There is a story behind that, sir," Smythe said.
"Save it for now. Just tell me if you're hurt."
"Both of us are fine."
"Good." Aaron said. "Go up the ladder. Now we're just waiting for Carlos."
"He won't be coming. I think he's dead, really dead."
"How is that possible?"
"Another story, sir," Smythe said.
Aaron sighed. "Tell me later. To be honest, I'm not sorry to hear about Carlos. He didn't belong in this world, and he knew it."
Smythe and Odelia went up the ladder to the hidden control room.
Aaron was the last to enter. The room was crowded. Wesley, Yvonne, Atalanta, Charles, Norbert, and Tawni were already there. A number of dead men who had obviously killed themselves were also in attendance. Their blood and brains had splattered the walls.
Aaron pointed at Wesley and said, "I'm done with you."
"No, please." Wesley shook his head.
"It's one thing to be a stubborn, whiny pain in the ass. It's another to be a pain in the ass that disobeys orders, interferes with a mission, and puts his teammates at risk. Words like childish, irresponsible, and unacceptable come to mind. There are other words, too, but I'll keep those to myself. If I were really your commander, I'd kill you here and now."
"I was just trying to do my job."
"You're not a legionnaire!" Aaron roared. "That's not your job."
An awkward silence filled the room. He caught Charles smirking.
"I just..." Wesley said.
Aaron cut him off with a wave of his hand. He walked over to Tawni and grabbed her shoulder.
"Do you see this woman?" he said. "There is death in her eyes and blood on her hands. She has been with us for only a few days, and she's already racking up a healthy body count. She is a real legionnaire. I'm proud to be her commander. You couldn't be more different from her."
Tawni smiled. Atalanta looked at her with new interest.
"I don't want to go back to my protection team," Wesley said.
"Why not?" Aaron said. "What's wrong with them?"
"Look at them!" Wesley walked over to Charles. "This man doesn't know how to have fun. All he understands is duty. He's old and burned out. When we see a movie together, he watches me instead of the movie. He's very boring!"
Charles lost his smirk. He pursed his lips and appeared a little sad.
"That one is even worse." Wesley pointed at Atalanta. "She can't remember her childhood at all. She has the emotions of a robot. God made her into a perfect killing machine and took away almost everything else. She can't even feel love. The most important emotion of all, especially for a woman, and it's gone!"
Atalanta looked down. For once, she seemed vulnerable.
"And Yvonne runs around like a hyperactive gerbil that drank too much coffee. She never sits still. She breaks things all the time." Wesley looked at Yvonne and shook his head.
Aaron had to admit the kid had made some good points. That didn't change the facts though.
"Maybe you should help them instead of just complaining about them," Aaron said. "Teach Charles how to have fun. Help Atalanta remember her childhood. Work with Yvonne until she gets control of her behavior. This is exactly the kind of thing you were born for. You're supposed to bring peace and sanity to the people around you, not treat them like garbage."
Wesley turned away.
"You can visit Chicago if you want," Aaron said, "but you can't live here. I have a team to manage and a large territory to protect. Your presence compromises those responsibilities. I shouldn't have to explain this stuff to the Voice of Truth."
Wesley looked at the floor. "I was just trying to change my life." He wiped his eyes. "I wanted to make decisions for myself."
Yvonne came over and knelt down to give him a hug.
He pushed her away. "No. Atalanta needs to hold me."
Atalanta had a horrified expression. She stiffly walked over and put her arms around him. It was one of the most awkward gestures Aaron had ever seen. Clearly, she had no idea how to hold a child.
Wesley looked at Aaron. "Let me help you finish the mission, please."
"No," Aaron said.
"I'll be good. I'll follow orders."
"You betrayed my trust. That's unforgiveable."
"It won't happen again," Wesley said, "ever."
Aaron believed he was telling the truth because it was physically impossible for Wesley to lie. Still, Aaron had reservations.
"I'll think about it. What else is going on? Did this massacre produce any useful leads?" He looked at the faces in the room.
"Yes, sir," Norbert said. "A man named Ernie Rascher was in charge of this place. We're assuming he escaped." He nodded towards a dark, narrow tunnel in the wall.
Aaron crouched down and examined the tunnel. He guessed it led to a secret exit on the east side of the building. The suicidal guards were an interesting and informative detail. Apparently, Rascher hadn't wanted any company for his escape.
Aaron took out his phone and called Bethany.
"Sir?" she sa
id.
"Locate a sicko named Ernie Rascher. He was running the show here."
"One moment." There was typing in the background. "I found police reports in Germany and Poland. Rascher is a psychiatrist, a surgeon, and a serial killer. There are international warrants for his arrest."
"That's the guy."
"We'll find him for you, sir."
Aaron smiled. "Great. I have something special in mind for him." He closed his phone.
Nobody spoke as he continued to examine the control room. It was surprisingly clean and well organized. Rascher had created an island of order in a sea of chaos.
Aaron noticed a paper map of the facility and studied it for a long moment. The chaotic layout was the product of an insane mind or a true anarchist. He found the place where the fuel for the backup generator was kept. That was useful information. With so much flimsy wood in the building, a fire would spread quickly and burn hot.
Aaron took a wallet from one of the dead guards and examined the contents. There was an employee badge for Clear Path Cable and Internet. Aaron also found a membership card for an exclusive Chicago health club and some gold credit cards. For a security guard, the man was very well paid. Aaron kept the driver's license.
He noticed a white phone on the wall. The style was old-fashioned and he didn't see any buttons. It was like a courtesy phone in an airport. He scratched the stubble on his chin as he contemplated the possibilities.
He picked up the phone and put it against his ear. The call went through automatically.
"What's your status?" a man answered quickly.
"Dr. Rascher ran off, sir!" Aaron said in a tone of panic.
"That snake! I knew he was weak and untrustworthy."
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"Calm down," the mysterious man said. "How is the battle going?"
"I think we're slowly getting things under control, sir. We killed two of the intruders. Three more are still loose."
"Reinforcements will start to arrive very soon."
"Reinforcements?" Aaron raised his eyebrows.
"Rascher didn't tell you? I sent all the Nonsectarians your way, at least all the ones I could find."
"How many?"
"I don't have an exact count," the man said. "Maybe a hundred and twenty. They'll be armed."
Aaron allowed that number to rattle around in his brain.
"Are you still there?"
"Yes, sir," Aaron said. "I'll have a couple of men meet them in the parking lot."
"By the way, who am I talking to?"
Aaron read the name off of the dead guard's driver's license.
"You're a good man. You can expect a nice Christmas bonus."
"Thank you, sir," Aaron said. "I'll call back if there are any more updates."
"Bye."
Aaron hung up the phone and went back to the map of the facility. He stared at the paper. Nobody interrupted his train of thought.
"We have company coming," he said finally. "A lot of it. Smythe, Odelia, and Wesley are on medical detail. You have twenty minutes to find and heal as many of the surviving victims as you can. Get them out through the hole we made on the north side."
"Twenty minutes, sir?" Smythe said. "That's not much time, and doesn't Wesley need more protection? There might still be a few enemies lurking in here."
"It's as much time as we have. Yvonne, go with them."
Yvonne looked to Charles. He nodded.
"Norbert and I will go outside dressed as guards," Aaron said. "We'll guide the new arrivals into a trap. Tawni, Charles, and Atalanta will start big fires here and here." He touched two spots on the map. "Note the location of the fuel storage. We're going to burn this whole place to the ground and kill everybody inside. Don't get caught in the fire. Questions or comments?"
He looked around. Nobody spoke. Charles' silence was implicit acceptance of Aaron's leadership.
"Then let's get started," Aaron said.
* * *
Roger Gains stared at the line of identical white phones on his white desk in his white office. He was furious at Dr. Rascher. The doctor had demanded enormous cash payments for his unique knowledge. Building and staffing his research facility had also been costly and risky. Gains had paid the doctor's price without complaint, but apparently, that had meant nothing in the end. At the first sign of trouble, Rascher had fled.
Fortunately, the doctor was no longer strictly necessary. Gains had the finished designs for the wave generators. He intended to build thousands of units and plug them into every cable network on the planet. The flames from the burning cities would scorch the heavens. It would be glorious.
Gains picked up a phone.
A man answered in a deep voice, "This is the Housekeeper."
"Dr. Ernie Rascher. Wanted for murder in Europe. Recently employed by me. He's probably trying to leave the country."
"If I have to chase him, my travel expenses will be added to my bill."
"You'll get double your usual fee if you make him suffer at the end," Gains said.
"Done." The phone clicked.
Gains wiped his hands symbolically.
He noticed a fleck of dried skin on the floor. It had probably fallen off his body. Now he would have to mop the entire room with distilled water.
* * *
Aaron and Norbert stood in the parking lot on the south side of the building. They were wearing green uniforms taken from dead guards. Hopefully, the small blood stains wouldn't arouse suspicion.
A steady stream of cars was pouring in through the gate. As men stepped out of the cars, they looked around with puzzled expressions.
The Nonsectarians were an eclectic group. Many wore the green uniforms of Clear Path Cable, but most wore civilian clothes. Prominent, poorly groomed facial hair seemed to be the rule. Apparently, being an anarchist meant not shaving. Dirty, worn clothing was also common. Just about all of them had a gun either in plain view or under their clothes. The gun bulges were embarrassingly obvious.
Aaron waved his arms and yelled, "Who is in charge here? Is anybody in command?"
One man separated from the rest and approached. He wore a security guard uniform with white stripes on the cuffs. His green cap was threadbare on the corners. A bristled, gray mustache covered his upper lip.
"That would be me," he said. "I'm Perkins."
Aaron shook his hand firmly. "What's going on? Who are all these guys?"
"We're the reinforcements. The boss said you were in trouble."
Aaron shook his head. "You can't come in. We have the situation under control."
"That's not what we heard. We were ordered to drop everything and run straight over here. There was some kind of attack."
"Who ordered you?" Aaron gave Perkins a challenging stare.
"Roger Gains. Is the name familiar? Last I checked, he owns all of us."
Aaron widened his eyes. "Oh."
"We're not leaving until we get a good look around," Perkins said. "I need to know the situation is actually under control."
Aaron frowned.
"What's the fucking problem now?"
"We do a lot of secret shit here," Aaron said. "Dangerous shit. I don't want guys wandering off. They might see something they shouldn't. Mr. Gains would not like that at all."
"Fair enough. We'll stick together."
"You'll follow me, all of you."
Perkins nodded. "Give me a few minutes to get everybody organized."
"Take your time." Aaron made a generous gesture with his hands.
Perkins walked off.
Norbert leaned over and whispered in Aaron's ear. "As usual, it's a pleasure to watch you work, sir."
Aaron didn't react. "Call the girls," he mumbled. "Tell them Roger Gains is our next target after we catch Rascher."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
Tawni and Atalanta were rolling a fifty-five gallon drum of gasoline through the building. The drum weighed hundreds of pounds and was giving Tawni
a lot of trouble. Atalanta had to do most of the work to keep the bulky load moving in the right direction. She was impressively strong.
"That was some serious business in the control room," Tawni said.
Atalanta nodded.
"Was that stuff Wesley said about you true?"
"He never lies. He can't."
A dead body was blocking the way. Atalanta dragged it to the side like a bag of garbage. She and Tawni grunted with the effort of getting the drum rolling again.
"You can't remember your childhood?"
"No great loss." Atalanta shrugged. "I was just a weak, little girl then."
Tawni frowned. "Wesley called you a perfect killing machine."
"The Society has seven divisions, each commanded by a legatus legionis. If they aren't the most powerful people in the world, they're close. Each legate has one personal bodyguard. For a true warrior, getting that job is the highest honor. The life of the legate is in your hands. The entire division is relying on you for his protection. Charles used to be the legate of North America, and I was his bodyguard."
Tawni hadn't known that story. It cast a different light on a lot of things.
There were more bodies ahead. It looked like six men had been attacked by a food processor with very sharp blades. Arms and necks were surgically severed.
"Your work?" Tawni said.
Atalanta nodded. "The sword is my preferred weapon. It's quiet, precise, and never needs reloading."
"Could you give me a lesson when we get back to headquarters?"
"If there is time."
"Thank you." Tawni smiled. She realized it was a great privilege to get a lesson from Atalanta.
"Carlos' death will create an interesting situation. For the last thirty years, he was the deadliest fighter in the world. Number one on the list. Now there will be real competition. I'm curious to see who comes out on top."
"You keep a list?"
"Yes," Atalanta said. "I'll show it to you later."
"Are you on it?" Tawni said.
"Of course. So is Yvonne. Did you think ordinary legionnaires would protect the Child of Destiny? He's even more important than a legate."
