Waypoint: A Game of Drones

by C. F. WALLER

  “But if the United States has satellites that can see the bottom of the Indian Ocean they will want to know what else we can see,” I mutter, recalling him telling me that he could see me at Brittany’s apartment.

  “Yes,” he exhales as if he’s given birth. “We couldn’t expose that technology.”

  “But you had to do something when the smallpox went missing?”

  He nods.

  “Your tyrannical abuse of power aside,” I accuse. “We did get the smallpox, did we not?”

  Hal rubs his eyebrow, then wipes his mouth. Before he can speak, I hold up my hand.

  “So, we didn’t intercept the smallpox?”

  Whoa there, cowgirl,” he whispers, scanning around the bar. “Let’s keep our voices down.”

  “What about John? I thought you got everybody?”

  “We got some of them,” he admits. “Something went sideways at the exchange. The Bombardier went missing. We got the crew and —.”

  “John, you got John?”

  “We got everyone but John,” he exhales. “Listen, I don’t even have a full report on that yet. We have been kind of busy trying to keep the peace. It’s not like—.”

  I put up a hand to quiet him, then light a cigarette. I need to think. What happened to poor John? Who has the small pox? Who am I working for?

  “I am going to sort this out,” he assures me.

  “Good luck with that,” I shrug, tipping up my beer. “At least tell me I’m working for the good guys.”

  “I promise we aren’t the bad guys.”

  “Doesn’t really answer the question,” I chuckle, then recall my earlier conversation with Katz. “By the way, how about you stop talking to Katz about my sister. Let’s start with that.”

  “Did she say something to you?”

  “Yeah, gave me a whole lecture about the attorney needing me to appear at the hearing to help.”

  “She isn’t in possession of the particulars.”

  “You can say that again,” I laugh. “She thinks Vicky’s lawyer was asking me to show up as a character witness.”

  He nods.

  “I decided not to tell her it was the State Attorney calling for me to show up to speak for the injured parties.”

  A silence falls over the table, then his phone rings. He puts up a finger and takes the call. I’m happy for the diversion. I have no intention of going to a parole hearing and if I did go it wouldn’t be to help my sister. Vicky deserves whatever happens to her. I excuse myself and step out the back door onto a patio. The roof is just a series of boards with gaps, allowing me to see the blue sky. Can they see me from their satellite?

  Chapter Thirty-one

  My cell rings, startling me. Why is it even on? Plucking it off the bedside table, I turn it over and find the battery still removed. Why is it working without the battery? I don’t see a battery on the nightstand, but lean over the side of the bed and check the floor just to be sure. The un-powered cell rings again, vibrating in my hand. Scanning the dingy room, I find no one. It would appear Kara has gone out. With no one to ask, I flip it open and answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Lydia,” Johns voice surprises me. “Long time, no see.”

  “John, where are you?”

  “I hope it’s not too forward of me to call,” he plows ahead as if he isn’t listening to me. “But I did invite you to come visit.”

  “John, where are you,” I demand, sitting straight up.

  “Hold on,” he answers as if he isn’t hearing me, then mutters something to another party on his end. “I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

  “You hold on—,” I stammer, but am interrupted.

  “Stacy, I am so sorry,” my late husband Glen’s voice crackles, as if the connection is bad. “Please forgive me.”

  “Glen?” I cry out, but find myself looking at Kara instead.

  “Wake up,” she barks, drawing me out of my own twisted dream. “You’re having a bad dream.”

  I roll away from her as she leans over the bed. It takes me a moment to stop shaking. Why was I having this dream? Kara badgers me until I sit up and wipe the sleep out of the corners of my eyes. My fingers come back wet, as if I was crying in my sleep. I roll over and lay there for an unknown period of time, thinking about Glen. It’s not the first nightmare I have endured with him apologizing for his suicide, but John’s appearance disturbs me. Am I feeling guilty about sleeping with John? In my mind, have I equated it with cheating? By the time, I poke my head out of my nest, Kara is sitting on her bed watching the television.

  “Look, look, look,” she blabbers, pointing at the screen.

  I blink my eyes, trying to bring the picture into focus. When this fails, I slip my feet onto the floor and walk around the end of the bed. I drop down next to Kara, who sits, legs bent, her feet under her on end of the bed. She points the television remote and the yellow bar for volume clicks across the screen as Anderson Cooper speaks. She was watching with the volume down while I slept. Or in this case while I suffered through a horrific nightmare.

  “Listen,” Kara begs, bumping me with her shoulder, then pointing the remote at the television.

  “—claims North Korean jets crossed over its borders early this morning. After refusing to answer all attempts to contact the Korean pilots, China’s own Airforce intercepted them and ended the confrontation by shooting down the invaders. North Korea is claiming China incited the incident, but currently a state of war is in play between the two countries.”

  Kara hops off the bed and lays the remote on the desk.

  I turn, looking back at the nightstand. My cell lays untouched next to the battery. Under it a roughly torn open pack of smokes. The clock radio glows 7:34 AM. Relax, It was just a dream.

  “Wakey, wakey,” Kara complains, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

  “How long has this nonsense been going on?” I cough into my hand.

  “Just after three, but the war isn’t why I woke you up.”

  “This is four hours old? Hal hasn’t called? Does he know?”

  “Everyone knows,” she groans. “Stifle yourself and listen to me.”

  I cough again, then nod for her to continue.

  “If we assume Darius did this—.”

  “That’s a safe bet,” I groan.

  “I agree. Then the Drone had to be geographically present, right?”

  “To control the Korean planes?”

  “Yeah, it would have to be close?” she waves her hands as if she’s preforming Jazz Hands in a dance recital. “It can’t just catch a Wi-Fi signal at a San Diego Starbucks and start stealing fighter jets halfway around the world.”

  “That seems logical.”

  “Then we know where he is.”

  “Fine, whatever. Why does that matter?”

  “Where was Darius two days ago?”

  “I don’t know,” I start, but then realize what she’s getting at. “He was in Carlsbad two days ago.”

  “Right, and it took him two days to fly across the Pacific Ocean to China.”

  I nod understanding, but can’t seem to find an application for this new information. How does this help us stop him? Kara seems annoyed when I don’t join in her jubilation. I stare blankly at her, then she snatches up the phone, holding it out for me to take. When I don’t, she plucks the battery up and begins to insert it back into the phone.

  “Whoa,” I shout, reaching out to grab it, but miss and stumble off the bed.

  “What are you worried about?”

  “Are you mental,” I complain, standing up straight and wincing at the onrushing headache. “Turn on that phone and prepare to receive incoming fire.”

  “He can’t touch us,” she exhorts. “He’s too far away.”

  It takes a split second for the gravity of her statement to sink in. If he’s on the other side of planet Earth, it’s doubtful he could get at us for the moment. She holds out the phone and battery and I accept, but don’t a
ssemble them.

  “You’re suggesting that I text him?”

  “Call, text, just pull the plug when you’re done.”

  “You’re forgetting that we would need to get far away from here.”

  “Take him a day at minimum, but that’s also interesting,” she smirks, a finger to her lips. “You could turn it on to draw him into a trap as well.”

  “Let’s talk to Hal first,” I shake my head. “Let’s say a shower, coffee, then Hal.”

  “You’re no fun,” she pouts.

  “What were you doing up all night?”

  “Picking at him,” she discloses, pointing at the laptop glowing on the table.

  “Any luck?”

  “Yeah, just before three I managed to take one of his cities.”

  “Which one?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she wrinkles up her nose. “He took it back an hour ago.”

  “Tough break,” I sigh, pausing in the bathroom doorway, one hand overhead on the frame. “Wait a minute.”

  “See, you’re starting to get it,” she teases, watching me thinking it over. “Taking over airplanes must be hard work because he stopped paying attention to me.”

  “So, in addition to your insightful deduction on his location,” I hang on the frame and turn back. “We might be able to predict a new attack by his reaction time on the game?”

  “Maybe.”

  I start to go, then have another thought.

  “What scenario did you use? When you won the ten grand.”

  “None,” she shrugs. “The last guy tipped over his king.”

  “Huh?”

  “He quit, stood up and walked out.”

  “Why would he do that? Was there any runner-up money?”

  “Yeah, everyone who made the final game got a thousand dollars, but only the winner got the big prize.”

  “Tell me?” I demand, hanging off the bathroom door frame with both hands now. “What type of victory were you going for?”

  “Technically speaking, I won a Domination Victory, but he quit after thirteen hours.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess he needed a nap,” she mutters, turning her attention back to the television.

  I wait, but she doesn’t offer anything more on the subject. I slip in the shower and run water on my hand, waiting for it to get hot. Kara’s thoughts on the Drone’s location based on the incidents are solid, but we need to ask Hal what it’s range is. How fast is it? How far can it transmit? There are too many unknowns to turn the phone back on yet. Not to mention, I don’t want to get anyone staying here two days from now killed. Steam bleeds out the curtain as the water warms. Shower, coffee, Hal.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  We travel a mile north on the Pacific Coast Highway to a Waffle House, but can’t get a table. Katz gets the order to go and we walk across the street and eat on a battered picnic table. We are surrounded by rocks and a few tall patches of grass. The salt air is strong and the beach runs a quarter mile to the north, before hitting the foamy surf. A group of women are lined up in neat rows doing yoga, or some healthy thing, in the sand to our distant left. Three would-be surfers muck about on tiny waves just past the point where the blue water turns into white caps. It’s not a fancy public beach, but the locals are going about their day, unaware of the impending disaster set in motion by their government. As is almost always the case, ignorance can be bliss.

  I’m more interested in the large foam cup of coffee than the pancakes offered to me, but force a smile. Kara explains her discoveries between bites, but Hal isn’t too impressed, forbidding me from activating the phone.

  As the conversation grinds forward, I get the faintest impression that Hal is getting ready to disband our merry group. Kara senses it too, eyeing me with a worried glance. She has the most to lose, given her day job. I can’t shake my nightmare about John, which takes the conversation in a new direction.

  “Is it possible that Darius sank the Gulfstream to get at the smallpox?” I propose. “Maybe he sunk them all looking for it.”

  “That’s not why,” Kara interrupts before Hal can speak. “He took all the other ones as part of the game.”

  “To what end?” Hal asks, sipping his coffee.

  “He was collecting assets. In the game, you can choose to convert your captured enemy weapons into building materials or reassign them to your own military.”

  “How does sinking them in the Indian Ocean reassign them?” Katz mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes.

  “Yeah, that makes no sense,” Hal waves Kara off dismissively.

  “Hold on,” I cut in, then look at Kara. “Why do you think he did it?”

  “One of two possible motives,” she advocates, tapping a finger on her nose. “Either he’s trying to create the impression that air travel isn’t safe or—.”

  “If that were the case he’d have crashed them headlong into populated areas to incite the most fear,” Hal interrupts, looking frustrated.

  “Let her finish,” Katz orders, wrapping up her plate and plastic utensils in a bag.

  “Thank you,” she bobs her head at Katz. “Possibly he did that before his program was fully expanded.”

  “Your suggesting that he wasn’t able to form a complete strategy until recently,” I ask.

  “Yeah, there wasn’t any real texting back in 2004 when he was born, but—.”

  “Born,” Hal scoffs.

  “Yes,” Kara plows forward. “The game rewrites itself, expanding as it goes. At some point, it evolved enough to take on the persona of Darius.”

  “Evolved?” Katz smirks. “Like Darwin for the 21st century?”

  “Or the Chaos Theory in action,” Kara suggests. “He took the planes, but didn’t know what to do with them initially. He probably wanted to reassign them, but it’s not like he could land them anywhere.”

  “Not without being seen,” Hal confirms, looking in my direction to indicate the super-secret satellites.

  “So, back to the initial question. Did he take the Gulfstream to get the smallpox or not?” Katz grumbles.

  “What happened to the sea plane?” I press Hal. “How’d you lose it?”

  “The seaplane took off on its own at the refuel?”

  “Did you get any more details?”

  “Not really.”

  “The impending war might be drawing some of the sunshine off a missing seaplane,” Katz remarks, rolling the top of the bag over and lobbing it at a trash can closer to the beach.

  “What if Darius took the seaplane to get the smallpox?” I propose a second time.

  “Are we saying his plan is to cause an extermination scale event?” Hal shrugs. “And please stop calling the Drone Darius.”

  “If he’s still playing the game, then no,” I reply, aware that’s not one of the winning scenarios.

  “Oh crap,” Kara barks, swinging her inside leg out from under the table. “No, no, no.”

  “What now?” Hal exhales deeply, but she’s up like a shot.

  When she starts away from the table, the top of her knee sock catches on a sliver of wood, unraveling it. Unaware, or preoccupied, she races off to the road leaving a trail of thread. Hal and Katz stare momentarily, then go back to the conversation.

  “Where too now?” Katz inquires. “Assuming we are still working this mess.”

  “You don’t think the Drone took the smallpox to use it?” Hal asks, but I don’t answer. “Hello, is anyone home.”

  “Just a second,” I mutter, holding up a hand.

  Hal frowns, then I start toward the road. The sand isn’t deep, but it’s slow going at first. Kara is already across the street with her laptop on the hood of the car. She fidgets, pacing in a tiny circle as it boots up. I light a cigarette while I wait for a half dozen cars to pass.

  A guy who’s too old to wear spandex, but doesn’t seem to care, also pauses for traffic. A large dog with what looks like a blonde perm all over its body stands obediently next to him on a red leash.
It looks like one of those hypoallergenic breeds. Glen wanted to get one for Jessie, as my poor baby was allergic to just about everything. I should have been more supportive of the idea. Jessie would have loved a pet.

  “That a Labradoodle?” I inquire exhaling smoke away from spandex guy.

  “No,” he bristles. “Obviously not. It’s a Goldendoodle.

  “What’s the difference?”

  He starts to answer, but pauses with his mouth open searching for a reason his dust mop is superior to the breed I suggested. Possibly the tight bike shorts have impaired his ability to think.

  “Nice shorts,” I add, as the traffic clears.

  Before he can process the offending remark, I cross the road. Kara is white faced, wearing a look of fear. What is she afraid of?

  “What’s up?”

  “It didn’t even occur to me,” she frowns, shaking her head. “The game was already running when we got in.”

  “Calm down, what didn’t occur to you?”

  “The game mode. I didn’t think to look.”

  “Slow down,” I beg, taking her by the shoulders to stop her pacing. “Tell me about the game mode.”

  “Most people just play the single player game. In tournaments we played against each other,” she explains, pulling back so she can watch the laptop boot up. “But the game also has a Scenario menu.”

  “Scenario?”

  “If you play all the time it gets pretty boring. There was a menu that allowed you to play historical scenario’s,” she explains, but notices I may be lost. “You can play the American Revolution as King George. If you want to be Adolph Hitler, you just choose WW2, then pick the Germans.”

  “How is that different than just being the Germans in the first place?”

  “The map is preset with all the troop locations from some history book. The Allies all play according to actual strategies.”

  “And as Hitler you can do whatever? Talk about the ultimate despot,” I snort.”