Hope's Return

by Jay J. Falconer

  Lipton resumed, “I can also reasonably conclude that your man would have run through a set of secondary checks next, eliminating each of the parts that were working correctly. Otherwise, he would have been nothing more than a complete incompetent.”

  “Well, he wasn’t,” Summer said. “In fact, if he were still alive today, he’d give your sorry ass a run for your money in the intelligence department.”

  “So you claim, my little squirrel.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Do you want me to step in, boss?” Wicks asked Krista, wondering if he might receive the green light to step forward and pummel the man until he stopped flapping his gums.

  “Stand down, Wicks,” Krista said, using a look that said, “I’m with you, but we can’t.”

  Lipton continued, not skipping a breath. “With that as a basis, I scanned the box of components, looking for something we might use, something that would solve a more obscure problem with the transmitter. Something your man probably overlooked.”

  “Wow, that’s a huge frickin’ leap,” Krista said after a roll of her eyes.

  “Actually not. I find that lesser minds are often too close to the problem to see the solution. They become obsessed, almost myopic, in their reasoning, missing a critical piece of data that reveals the solution.”

  Krista threw up her hands, shooting a glare at Wicks, then at Summer. “My God, does this man ever stop talking?”

  “Get to the point already,” Summer said.

  “When I inspected the back of the unit, I noticed a number of screws were missing from the casing. In fact, there’s only one still seated in place. Morse must have decided on a partial reassembly, to save time during his repeated attempts to triage the problem. Since that leads us to know he dug into the internals, looking for the cause of the transmission failure, we can begin our diagnosis elsewhere.”

  “What do you mean by elsewhere?” Wicks said, not able to contain his words.

  “Elsewhere, as in not inside the case.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Krista snapped. “Of course, the problem is inside. Where else can it be?”

  “You think far too one-dimensionally,” Lipton said.

  “One-dimensionally?” Krista asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I would suggest listening to my words more carefully, just as I chose them.”

  “I am listening, but you’re just being the pompous ass that you are.”

  “In the world of science, every word matters, especially how they are used in context. It’s how we distinguish theory from fact, after the research has been done.”

  “He’s just stalling, boss,” Wicks said to Krista, wanting to help lessen her obvious frustration.

  “Bottom line it for me, Lipton. Can you fix it or not?” Summer asked.

  “Yes. But I’ll need a few things first.”

  “Name it,” she said. “Because we don’t have time for this.”

  “Let’s start with pen and paper. Then I’ll make a list, assuming you all can read.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Dice moved past a trio of men loading out with tactical vests and combat boots for today’s op, his heart full of expectation. His feet seemed to be on a mission of their own, pounding at the floor with purpose. After months of planning, the time had come. And not a second too soon.

  This was always his favorite part of a rollout—the sound of eager men and their equipment clattering. Especially the mil-spec weapons and related gear, adding to the anticipation filling the air in Frost’s compound. Wait, check that, Fletcher’s compound, even though the new boss hadn’t had a chance to put his own spin on the place.

  It’s hard to break old habits and coin new terms when you’ve been indoctrinated for years under a single command structure. One bolstered by the color red and a blade-first mentality.

  After Dice passed a bank of empty lockers that used to be full of gear and personal memorabilia, his mind connected to a set of memories related to the ambush he’d helped orchestrate.

  In truth, it was Fletcher’s assassination plan, but one that was needed to cull the men loyal to Frost. It was a tough step, but he was on board with the operation. Leading it, in fact, something he’d have to reconcile in the days that would follow. He knew he could handle the guilt, but only after a few ghosts paid him visits in his sleep.

  When he landed a step in the next hallway, he ran into Fletcher marching in the opposite direction. “Hey boss. Got a minute?”

  “Sure. But make it quick,” Fletcher replied. “We’ve got a mission to complete.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not exactly. Just wanted to be clear about the objectives today.”

  “It’s simple. We shoot anything that doesn’t surrender.”

  “That’s my point. Why not shoot everyone? End it once and for all, instead of these half-measures. I worry they’ll come back to bite us in the ass.”

  “I thought of that initially and it would certainly be easier, but there is tactical value in keeping some alive.”

  “Assuming our advance force doesn’t wipe them all out. They’re not exactly a well-trained army.”

  “True on both counts, but a few of the enemy will certainly take refuge during the invasion. Count on it. There’s zero chance they won’t have fallback positions already established, where they can hunker down and ride out an assault like this.”

  Just then, a new thought penetrated his mind, taking Dice down a new path of thinking. “Oh, that’s why you’d been syphoning off all the explosives when Frost wasn’t looking.”

  Fletcher slapped Dice on the back. “You catch on quick, my young friend.”

  “Just doing my part, sir.”

  “Once we’ve liberated the holdouts, we’ll interrogate them. Someone has to know where they’ve stashed their advanced technology. And you know there will be plenty of it. That compound has to be full of it.”

  “Too bad Lipton isn’t here. We could use his eye for the better stuff.”

  “We’ll make do. I’m sure the valuable stuff will be easy to spot.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “We leave it behind.”

  “Especially with the limited space in the transports.”

  “Our primary goal is to find something to help with the refinery issues.”

  “Or someone.”

  Fletcher nodded, his eyes full of determination. “In the end, no matter how this plays out, we’ll adapt and overcome. Like we always do.”

  Dice pounded a closed fist on his chest, amplifying his voice. “Together, victory is at hand.”

  Fletcher made the same gesture. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop us now. This is what we’ve been working for.”

  “And sacrificing.”

  “Roger that. Let’s roll out. Time to finish this thing.”

  * * *

  Wilma Rice walked the remaining steps to Craven’s private kitchen and went inside, where she found her boss standing at a prep counter with a meat cleaver in his hand.

  The smear of red across the front of his pants caught her attention, running vertically from just above his knee to the front pocket on his right side.

  The cutting board in front of him held a stack of sliced meat about the size of a shoebox, each slice with a precise width no wider than a quarter-inch. It appeared Craven had been at it for a while, taking his time to prepare every portion, almost as if the carvings were a work of art.

  Craven brought his eyes up from the cutting surface, stopping the work of the blade. “Report?”

  Rice took a seat in a high-back swiveling stool. She brought her legs around to face him, keeping her feet in tight to avoid smacking into the cabinet. “Commander Stipple’s runner just arrived. They’re almost in position.”

  “Excellent. He made good time.”

  “Stipple or the runner?”

 
“Both,” Craven said, running his fingers down the blade before bringing them up to his lips. He opened his mouth and stuck the tip of his thumb inside, licking off a drip of red.

  Wilma cast her eyes downward and didn’t respond, acting as if she hadn’t noticed his lack of sanitation. Or his culinary decision.

  Craven brought the knife back to the slab of meat, continuing his work. “It’s good to know the training worked. I was wondering if he could convince a Scab to stay on task and not get distracted on the way here.”

  “The man works wonders. You chose him well, sir.”

  “Now we’ll see how well the latest enhancements perform in the field.”

  “My guess is the success rate will be far superior than the last.”

  “For us, it better be,” Craven said, pointing the tip of the knife in her direction. “Otherwise, questions will be raised. And we both know what that will mean. Especially now, heading into the next phase.”

  Rice agreed, but chose not to further his line of self-reinforcing paranoia. He was obviously looking for validation. “Stipple has been working the troops hard, so to speak.”

  “I swear, that man never sleeps.”

  “It comes with the job, sir. Though I do worry about that heart of his. Word has it, he passed out again the other night. I think his condition is getting worse.”

  Craven scoffed. “He’ll be fine. Nothing he can’t handle.”

  She nodded, but didn’t respond.

  Craven turned to the wash sink on his right, running a stream of water over the knife. The new coating of blood rinsed off and disappeared into the drain, along with a wedge of meat that had been clinging to the glistening edge. “I’m sure you’ll agree, Wilma. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought we’d be here right now, about to share a meal on the eve of our greatest accomplishment.”

  “Actually, boss, we did discuss this. Four years ago. Don’t you remember? It was right after that incubator suffered a meltdown, nearly taking out the lab. You turned to me and said that it wouldn’t always be like this. That one day, we’d be raising a glass to toast our success.”

  Craven held still for a few moments. “Oh yes, that’s right. What a long night. How could I forget?”

  “I’m sure the lack of sleep didn’t help with your memory at the time.”

  “For any of us,” Craven said.

  “I think you sensed my doubt that night, about whether I was the right woman for the job.”

  “Sometimes setbacks happen and I didn’t want you to lose confidence. Especially when we were breaking new ground.”

  “I’ll never forget how that made me feel, sir. That one statement really made a world of difference. I was about to tender my resignation.”

  A smile took over his face, then it vanished a moment later, almost as if her gratitude had struck a nervous tone within him. Or perhaps it was her admission of almost quitting.

  Craven put the knife down next to the edge of the sink. “Actually, the time period I was referring to was just after graduation, when I was still struggling to make a name for myself. If it weren’t for a few lucky breaks back then, I never would have landed that first job.” He smirked, then laughed again. “It’s amazing how life unfolds.”

  “That’s an interesting comment, given all we’ve been up to.”

  Craven seemed to ignore her reference, his eyes now focused on the meat waiting for him on the counter. “Think about what that really means, Wilma. One simple decision to apply for that first job affected the flow of history. And not just mine, either. For the entire planet.”

  “What’s left of it.”

  “True, that did help narrow the possible outcomes a bit.”

  “That it did, sir.”

  “But it still doesn’t change the fact that we are here, right now, together, on the eve of sheer greatness.”

  She nodded, but chose not to respond.

  He picked up the cutting board and held it out in front of her.

  She studied the enormous size of the slices leaning against each other, but never put her hand out. “How about a smaller piece? I’m watching my weight.”

  His eyes scanned her figure before he put the board down and picked up the knife, hacking off a sliver of meat from one of the corners. He used the tip of his finger to tilt the piece up and onto the flat side of the blade. Then he held it out in her direction.

  She took the quarter-sized portion and put it into her mouth, beginning to chew.

  Craven picked up one of the full-sized slices and slid it into his mouth, folding it over with a stab of his finger. His words ran together into a garble. “I couldn’t imagine sharing this with anyone else. You’ve never let me down, Wilma. Not once. And I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  When he turned his head away, she opened her mouth and let the hunk drop to her lap, landing in the palm of her hand. She managed to stuff the mangled piece into her pocket before he brought his eyes back to her. She continued her chewing, hoping her simulation rang true. “Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Krista took a step back in Morse’s lab as the snot-nosed recruit, Simmer, appeared with Sergeant Barkley on a leash, the two of them cruising past her on their way to Summer’s position by the radio.

  For some reason, the animal had decided to stare at her with his tail low, making her wonder if Barkley had forgotten who she was, or if he was in the process of sizing her up for a skin sandwich.

  She thought they had been getting along okay, even after her initial apprehension about a vicious dog who used to do Frost’s bidding. Trust is hard-earned, even for a canine whose recent bath had made him far less menacing.

  Her new boss had managed to tame the beast, but like all creatures, you could never be sure what was boiling inside their brain.

  That was true for the two-legged varieties, as well as the four-legged, but Summer seemed to have a special connection with the mutt, able to control him when nobody else could. Or wanted to.

  When the boy passed by Lipton, the animal lunged and snapped its jaws at him.

  Lipton stopped his work in a twisted lurch, pulling his feet, legs, and arms back at all once. “What the hell is that thing doing here?”

  Simmer leaned back and tugged with his arms, straining to control the dog. “Down, boy. Down.”

  Barkley reared on his hind legs and began to bark as if Lipton were an intruder, spit flying from his mouth.

  Lipton pushed the rolling chair back with his feet. “Keep that mangy animal away from me!”

  Summer rushed over, taking a position between Lipton and the dog. She knelt down, holding her hand out to the animal. “It’s okay, boy. He’s our friend.”

  “You’re damn right I am,” Lipton said. “At least until I get this radio working, which won’t happen if that fleabag doesn’t watch itself.”

  Krista laughed. “Yeah, right, Lipton. If Simmer let go of him right now, you’d probably scream like the little bitch you are.”

  “Might be fun to watch,” Wicks said from his guard position, breaking his silence.

  Lipton shot a piercing look up at Wicks, then over at Krista. “Trust me, all of you would scream, too, if that thing was trying to rip you apart.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Summer said in a light tone, wrapping the dog in one of her hugs. “He probably just got scared or something.” She brought her attention from Lipton to the fur bag. “Right, boy? You don’t want to hurt anyone, now do you?”

  Lipton scoffed as he scooted his chair back into position. “Actually, this isn’t the first time. That dog has had it in for me since day one.”

  Krista understood why. “I knew there was something that I liked about that dog.”

  Lipton peered at Barkley, then at Krista. “Spoken like the true caveman you are—”

  “Cavewoman,” Krista quipped.

  “Like semantics matter at this point.”

  “I thought you pref
erred accuracy.”

  “On things that matter, not when classifying another species of the lowbrow community.”

  Krista held out her hands. “So who exactly put you in charge of that task?”

  “I did,” Lipton said. “Nobody more qualified than me.”

  “So you say.”

  “Yes, I do,” Lipton replied, his focus on the antics of Barkley and his display of teeth. “As I was saying, you and Cujo over there would make a good husband and wife team. All fangs, stench, and temperament. None of it good, by the way.”

  Summer held out a turned-down hand and shot Krista a look that told her to stand down.

  Krista decided to honor Summer’s wishes and keep her lips silent as she folded her arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. Under normal circumstances, she’d never back down from any man, especially one like this whose only weapon was his arsenal of verbal jabs. Jabs bolstered by a self-anointed sanctimonious viewpoint that made her want to rip his face off and feed it to the dog.

  Summer may have had command over her, but not over the instincts of the dog, whose chomping teeth demanded attention of their own. Certainly Lipton’s.

  On one hand, she enjoyed watching the dog get the better of the man who thought he was superior to everyone.

  On the other, she knew the constant threat of a bite would be a distraction and slow the work down.

  Right on cue, Lipton turned to Summer. “Look, if you want me to finish this, then take that rabid mongrel out of here. I won’t spend another minute on this repair until you do.”

  Summer held for a moment, then turned to Simmer. “Why don’t you take him for another walk?”

  “And miss all the fun?” Simmer said, a smile beaming from his lips.

  Summer stood and touched a hand on the young man’s arm. “I know how you feel. We all do. But all kidding aside, we need to finish this.”

  Lipton crossed his arms over his chest, matching Krista’s pose, then raised an eyebrow. “Which I won’t, until that Canis lupus familiaris is outta here. It’s him or me.”

  Simmer looked at Krista, his eyes waiting for approval.

  “Go on, like she said,” Krista said to Simmer, wishing she could have selected Lipton as the one to be hauled away on a leash, instead of the dog. “He really doesn’t need to be in here anyway.”