Red

by Ryan Rinsler

  He placed his hand on Kate’s lower back as they walked, causing her to turn and smile sweetly as he did. A friendship was building between them, but also a tender sense of attraction that he could see in her eyes. It was going somewhere, he knew it, but wasn’t in the right state of mind to take it to the next step. They both knew where it was going, but neither spoke of it. Until the elevator.

  As soon as the doors closed Kate grabbed him and smacked her lips on his, grabbing his head and pushing her fingers through his hair as she did. A flash of electricity ran through his body as they shared a passionate kiss, which she stopped as abruptly as she’d started as the doors opened to Connor’s level. She brushed herself down and stepped into the small entrance hall to his apartment, and stood, staring forward at the door, waiting for him to open it. His heart rate showed no signs of slowing as he smiled and pressed his thumb to the keypad, and he stared at the side of her unmoving head as the doors swung open. She was playing it cool, purpos—

  She gasped, raising her hands to her face. Connor swung his head around — lamps were smashed on the floor, doors were hanging off kitchen cabinets, glasses smashed, drawers open — the apartment was trashed.

  They stepped in, glancing around, taking in as much as their eyes would let them. Furniture had been thrown out of place, as had most other things, and there were some notable items absent. The huge television had gone, the replicator, receivers for HALO, all gone. These he didn’t really care about — it was just money — what he really cared about was their safety. It looked like a simple robbery, but he couldn’t be sure. The fact only Silk products seemed to have been taken could have been indicative they were after any data they could glean from them, or it could just be the fact they were the most desirable and expensive things in the apartment.

  Kate placed her hand on his back, mouth agape. “Oh my god, Connor.”

  “It’s OK,” he said, picking up a lamp and placing it back on the table.

  “All your stuff.”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s just money.”

  “Yeah, but, your stuff, Connor.”

  “We should get outta here,” he said.

  “We can go to my place.”

  Suddenly they heard the elevator ping behind them. They both swung around to see a man stood in the doorway, grey hair, casually dressed. He looked muscly, like a retired boxer.

  “Who are you?” snapped Connor. He didn’t answer. He was a couple of steps into the apartment at this point, and just stood there, staring at the two of them. Connor was on high alert — the man’s calm gaze and lack of response being all the warning signs he needed. Despite the man’s lack of visible emotion he seemed as surprised to see them as they were him.

  I don’t like this.

  “Who are you?” he asked again. The man didn’t answer, instead taking a couple of steps forward, further into the apartment. Kate took a step back, and as she did the man lifted the front of the hoodie he was wearing. Remembering Jacob’s situational awareness lesson, and what to look for when concerned about a deadly encounter, Connor immediately reacted by drawing his pistol from the holster and holding it out in front of him. He cupped the bottom of the grip with his second hand and flicked off the safety. The man stopped, seemingly taken aback by the fact Connor had a weapon. Kate was too, now backing further away from both the man and Connor at the same time.

  “Who are you?” he asked once more. His hands were shaking, so he consciously made sure his finger was not on the trigger — he wanted no random, unintentional discharges of his weapon turning this scene any worse than it already was.

  The man sighed, his head tilted to one side as he looked at the gun. “Put the gun down, Connor,” he said, his deep voice rumbling like thunder.

  Suddenly the man began striding toward him. Connor backed away, but he was approaching fast.

  BANG! The sound of the gun echoed around the apartment, followed quickly by a squeal from Kate.

  Connor opened his eyes. He was as shocked as any of them – it was a reaction, and a fast one at that. Without even thinking, he’d pulled the trigger. His eyes were now wide open, almost as wide as his gaping mouth, as he saw the man clutching at his shoulder. His knees were buckled as he stood there, holding his injury, until after a few moments he righted himself, stood up straight, then turned his body toward Connor once more, his expression deadpan. He lifted his hand from his shoulder and looked at his palm, which was glistening with a thick layer of blood, then scowled.

  “Get on the ground,” Connor said, trying his best to disguise the quiver of fear and adrenaline in his voice. His hands were shaking violently, the tip of the pistol wobbling from side to side as he attempted to keep it fixed in the direction of the attacker.

  The man dropped to his knees with an angry look about him, still clutching his wounded shoulder.

  “Hands out.”

  He stretched his good arm out in front of him, his wounded arm staying down by his side, and lay on his front. Connor placed the tip of his pistol on the back of his head and straddled him, and as he pulled the man’s good arm down and around his back, he pointed to an electrical wire on the floor nearby.

  “Bring that here,” he said to Kate, who obliged immediately. “Tie it around his wrists.” He twisted the man’s injured arm behind his back, which was met with a growling grimace.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” said the man through gritted teeth.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” asked Connor. “You steal all my stuff then, what, you’re back for a shower?”

  The man began laughing sarcastically.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve no idea,” he said.

  Connor panicked. I’m not being paranoid. His fears were confirmed. He’d begun to admit to himself that this guy wasn’t merely here for his electronic goods, and he really was looking for him, but it was apparent now he had a darker agenda. Kate had finished tying the restraint and had stepped back at least six feet from the two of them.

  The man laughed again. “You’re just going to tie me up?”

  He flipped him over onto his back, lifted the front of his hoodie, and sure enough there was a pistol tucked into his jeans. It was a modern-style, and after withdrawing it, it took Connor at least twenty seconds to find the switch to drop the magazine out, much to the amusement of the intruder. Connor pocketed the magazine and threw the gun across the apartment, not wishing to risk him being followed with a loaded weapon.

  He rifled through the man’s pockets, pulling out just a BlackBook Mini, half the size of a normal BlackBook, and a credit card with no name on it.

  The man looked at Kate. “Is Connor your boyfriend, Kate?” he asked, with a menacing grin.

  Her face dropped, as did Connor’s. How does he know our name? Did I say it? Have we said it while he’s been here?

  “OK, let’s get outta here,” he said, climbing to his feet.

  They walked swiftly from the apartment and headed down to the lobby. Kate watched as Connor holstered his pistol in the elevator on the way down.

  “This is crazy,” she said, her eyes wide. “He knew our names.”

  The elevator doors opened, but instead of there being a receptionist, whom he planned to ask to book them a Gyro, the lobby was empty.

  “Come on,” he said, marching toward the desk. He jumped around it and sat down, and with a few taps and swipes on the screen he’d booked a GyroSuite. A small receipt popped out of a slit by the desk, which he ripped off as he stood up, and as they both made their way to the front door, Connor slowed. He placed his hand on Kate’s shoulder to slow her too, and through the tall windows he checked the street to the left and right. Nothing out of the ordinary. No cars.

  They stepped out cautiously, and glancing around frantically, began their short walk to the Gyro station. Every car that passed was a threat, every face an enemy. They kept their heads down, marching without looking back. After a few more minutes they arrived at the G
yroStation to find their GyroSuite waiting for them on the other side of the station. Their pace quickened, and once they reached it, and with a flash of Jacob’s card against the keypad, the door swooshed open and they hopped in.

  Connor waited for the door to fully close before stating their destination — Silverthorne, Colorado. Kate glanced at him as he said it, but he ignored her; he just wanted to get them both out of there. As they set off the two of them went from corner to corner, checking through the windows to see if anyone saw them, or were paying them any attention at all.

  After a few minutes they settled down. In the GyroSuite there was just a bed and a sofa, an X-Vision TV and a replicator. Connor sat on the bed and rubbed his face. Kate sat beside him.

  “Holy shit,” she said. “Who the hell was that guy?”

  “I don’t know. Something to do with me.”

  Kate looked at him. “How did he know our names?”

  “I’ve no idea, but it’s not good.”

  “Uh, no!”

  “We just need to get to my dad’s place. I presume you’re OK coming?” he said with a ‘whoops’ expression on his face.

  “I’m glad to,” she said. “Hey I can’t believe you shot him!”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe it myself.”

  “What the hell did you have a gun for anyway?” she shouted, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “Because of shit like that I guess.”

  “You knew someone was going to be there?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Not really. Like I said, some weird stuff is going down at the moment. I don’t even know myself.”

  “Well you’re not gonna be able to go back to your apartment,” she said, taking off her shoes. “What if he keeps bleeding? You know, where you shot him?”

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure how it works. He could get up though, we only tied his hands.”

  “And no one will know where we’re going?”

  He raised his hands. “No idea. Nobody was around and I’ve been using my dad’s card, so we should be OK. You saw the guy’s face, he had no clue we’d be there.”

  “But he knew who we were.”

  “That’s what I mean — he obviously went there looking for me. The fact he knew who we were but was still surprised to see us tells me they’ve no idea where I’ve been the last month.” He took off his jacket and unclipped the holster, dropping it to the floor with the pistol still inside it. Kate kept glancing at it while he was doing so, flicking her eyes back and forth to his face.

  “It doesn’t feel real,” he said. “It’s that damn simulation, or, whatever it was.”

  “Pure Reality?”

  “Yeah, it feels like that did. I feel separate from it, like it wasn’t really me or it didn’t really happen.”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” she said. “How long will it take to get there?”

  “Um, about eight hours,” he replied, climbing onto the sofa.

  “You can take the bed,” she said quickly.

  “Na, it’s OK.” His eyes were dropping as he spoke. “Have a play with the virtual windows, they’re g… great.”

  And then, sleep.

  31

  Stanley walked briskly in front of the two agents. As he passed through the lobby of the Pure Reality center, people looked up from their devices to watch him being escorted from the building.

  It was clear the Scouts had no idea who Connor was — Stanley had covered his tracks meticulously, making sure there was no record of Connor’s brain patterns or any kind of link to his Person of Interest file. His BlackBook, the one which flagged Connor as a POI in the first place, had been ‘bricked’ by Ella, meaning it couldn’t be located by any device remotely. The only way they could get their hands on it would be to physically see it, and right now it was in the bunker, safe from prying eyes.

  As he walked, guided by the Scouts, he felt nothing but pride. I’ve done it.

  He was resigned now to the fact that this was likely the end for him. His family was safe, or as safe as they could be, and he’d done what he could. He was now at the mercy of the regime he’d been actively fighting against, but was calm in the thought that he’d done everything in his power to help bring an end to the tyranny. He’d only played a small part, and the largest was yet to come, but at least he’d put the wheels in motion for that to happen. The effect Connor could have on their plight was unknown, but he would surely affect the balance. A mind capable of such calculated and efficient atrocities must be as capable of undoing them.

  Nothing was certain, however — even if Mana did manage to get in contact with him, he would still have the job of convincing him of the cause behind their world being as it is, let alone setting up some form of long term communication between their two timelines. The official resistance in Black Alpha, Stanley and Connor’s world, was long since disbanded — there were still resistance fighters dotted about, like Stanley and Ella, Neil and around twenty others in Silk Corporation alone, but the organization was gone. There was no safe house, no leader. Nolan, their only tech, had either died or gone into hiding, and no one was actively pushing the resistance from Black Alpha. Now Connor’s identity had been discovered, Stanley had an inkling all this was about to change.

  They stepped outside into the murky drizzle of a dull day, and after being escorted to a nearby SUV, he was ushered into the back and squeezed between the same two Scouts that brought him there. He sat there, pressed on either side by muscly suits, casually gazing out of the front window at his life disappearing ahead of him.

  He smiled. He pictured the uprising of the resistance in this world, with Connor at the helm. He imagined the army Connor could build, his following of techs and soldiers taking down Silk from both the inside and out. Butterflies tingled in his stomach at the thought of Connor covertly recruiting half of Silk Corporation’s staff into his army and, one day, pressing the button to bring the whole lot down. His smile dropped slightly as the realization set in he would miss it all. It felt like a huge party he’d organized, which everyone was attending except him. But he wasn’t bitter — he was happy it was a possibility at all.

  The car turned a corner and they headed underground, beneath the Pure Reality building. This was it — he was about to find out what going downstairs really was.

  Everything went dark, with just a series of small white lights on the road leading their way. Up ahead he could see a security checkpoint, and as the car slowed, the driver opened his window and simply drove straight through, without the even slightest communication with the guards as they past. They stopped beside a double glass door in the center of a moderately well-lit entrance area, and as the Scout to his left exited the car, the one to his right gave him a prod. He slid across and dropped his feet to the floor, and with one Scout guiding him by the elbow, they made their way inside.

  “I can walk by myself,” he said, snatching his arm away as they walked down the dark, grey corridor. The Scout snapped his head around so fast Stanley thought it was going to keep going all the way around. He grabbed a handful of Stanley’s lab coat and pushed him hard against the cold metal wall, staring at him just a few centimeters from his face. Stanley was on tiptoes, his clothes pushed high up under his chin, his eyes wide and flicking from eye to eye as he stared back at him.

  “You do what I say, when I say it,” he said. He withdrew something from his belt and hit Stanley in the gut, immediately sending a painful shock throughout his whole body. His legs kicked violently, his feel scrabbling on the ground as the scout held him, and after a few seconds of pain and panting, he caught his breath and relaxed.

  “Walk.”

  The Scout dropped him to his feet where he immediately buckled, but, managing to stay somewhat upright, he staggered further down the corridor. These guys weren’t playing. He’d never seen a Scout react that way — they’d be almost subservient, easily confused with scripted responses. Violence was something he’d never witnessed, but
then they were in a different environment here.

  His abdomen burned, his muscles contracting as they entered a small box room. The walls were as grey as the corridor’s, all apart from the back, which was jet black. In the center sat a single, uncomfortable-looking chair, and after one of the Scouts pushed down hard on his shoulder, forcing him into the seat, they left and closed the door behind them.

  He sat staring at the black wall. It reflected nothing. His knees bounced up and down, his hands together, tucked between his thighs. He had no idea what to expect, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

  “Chen, Stanley R.,” came a female voice. A white dot appeared in the center of the black wall, which grew quickly to fill what was now obviously a screen. The face of a female appeared, as big as the wall, dimly lit. Her eye sockets were as black as the screen, her mouth completely obscured by shadow. She was looking down at something. He sat, waiting, for what seemed like minutes as she read, or typed on, whatever it was she was looking at, until eventually she looked up.

  “Confirm your name.” Her voice was loud and resonant, thumping in Stanley’s chest.

  “Dr. Stanley Chen.”

  “Code.”

  “245 dash 54 dash 60.”

  “Your title.”

  “Head of Neuroscience and Data Analysis.”

  There was a pause as she looked down again. “State your whereabouts in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “I was out walking.”

  “Destination.”

  “I’ve been out for days. I’ve not been myself.”

  “Explain why your location device was not on your person.”

  “I’ve, umm, I’ve been having some troubles at home. I didn’t want to be contactable.”

  “Evasion. Again.”

  “W—what?” he stammered.

  “Explain why your location device was not on your person.”