Cray has to clear his throat several times before his voice will work again.
“I didn’t intend to attack him,” he says. “I lost touch with reality.”
I lean over and snuggle close to him, wrapping my arm over his waist and pulling him into myself. He turns his head and meets my eyes. I can see the swirling confusion behind his stare, the burden of things he wants to say, but I place my finger softly on his lips.
“Shh. We’re both safe now. There will be plenty of time to talk later. For now, just rest.”
And in that moment, he relaxes. I feel the remaining tension leave his body, and he lets out a small sigh. He musters his strength and nestles his head under my chin, and after a couple of minutes, he begins to snore.
A small insect skitters across my toe, and I flick my foot, tossing it aside to relieve the tickle. Say what you want, I love going without shoes. It makes me feel connected to the world around me. Even as a child, I hated wearing shoes. Eckert was always getting onto me for running around barefooted.
A sad smile stretches across my face at the thought of Benjamin Eckert, my father, brutally murdered by a man we thought to be our friend, Cedric Archer.
I understand why Cray was willing to kill him. I’m glad he didn’t, but I understand. I know what it is to kill in cold blood. I know how it feels to sit in a hide, bear down on someone through a telescopic lens, pull the trigger, and watch their head explode. It was part of the job, but it haunts me every day. I would never wish that on Cray, even for someone as evil as Archer.
Damian came by earlier to check on Cray, who is sleeping the sleep of the drugged. Even though he’s out of the chamber, he’s been asleep for twelve solid hours.
Damian wants me to be the one to tell Cray everything. He thinks it will be best coming from me. I am sure of it. I assured him I would when the time is right. He also apologized again for the fifteenth million time since I came out of the chamber myself. I’m still angry at him for manipulating Cray the way he did instead of being honest, but even that I understand, even if I don’t like it.
Movement catches my eye, and I shake off my dark thoughts, again entranced by the new changes in my perception. Like my sense of smell, and everything else, my eyesight is as sharp as an eagle's. I wonder if this is how Cray perceives things. He doesn't have my strength, but his senses were always far above mine. Since Damian’s patch up, I’m better than ever before.
Through the thick trees covering the floor of the dome, I catch a faint glimmer of movement again, easily three hundred yards away. I continue to watch, just enjoying my new abilities, when a face becomes visible for a fraction of a second. Ming.
I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little annoyance. I know it's stupid, but I’m finding I can't help feeling a pang of jealousy every time I see her. It’s subtle. I didn’t notice it at first, but the more I’ve been around her, the more awkward I’ve felt.
I'm angry with myself for being so petty. It's not like me, and I try to “think” my feelings away. It's not that she's pretty, which she is. I believe the way I feel unsettled around her has more to do with the fact that she and Cray have been through a deep, profound experience together. They fought together for life. Struggled against death and overwhelming odds. That always creates a bond between people. She was there for him when I wasn’t.
I know instinctively, intuitively, that it has nothing to do with romance, but I'm just jealous of the fact that such a bond exists between them. I'm reminded of the same bond Cray and I share due to our experience on the island. I guess I just feel like it's a part of him that someone else has that I never will.
I realize my fists are clenched, and I again want to kick myself. I glance over my shoulder into our room where Cray sleeps peacefully. I make a quick decision. Rather than stew about something so ridiculous, I'm going to face it, and the best way I can think to do that, is to go to Ming and offer my sincerest thanks for saving the life of my love.
Throwing another quick look at Cray, I grab the handrail with my left hand and vault easily over the side, dropping thirty feet to the ground below, landing silently. I can't lie. After months of being for all intents and purposes crippled, it feels good to revel in my strength and agility again.
I move off at a quick jog, my feet padding silently on the ground of the dome, still damp from the watering sprinklers an hour or two before. The freedom is liberating, and I giggle stupidly like a child and do a couple of cartwheels and handsprings. One thing is for absolute sure, Damian knows his craft.
Chapter 25
Ming
“Hey.”
I half jump out of my skin and turn to see Mira striding up to me. I swear she moves like a ghost. I had no idea she was close. I nonchalantly try to move the small box in my left hand behind my back without drawing attention to it, but can't help feeling like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
She gives me a slightly funny look, and I try to smile.
“Sorry, Mira,” I say chuckling nervously. “You startled me.” Well, that's true enough.
She makes a small laugh and I relax a little. Perhaps my ruse worked.
“So, what are you doing out here?” she asks. The question seems innocent enough.
“I wanted a little fresh air,” I say, making a pretense of rolling my eyes. “If such a thing as fresh air exists in a place like this.”
She looks around us at the trees. My eyes follow her gaze and I see that we're close to the main clearing in the center of the dome. Not ideal, but time is ticking, and I have to work with what I have to work with.
She speaks. “I know what you mean, but it's kinda growing on me.”
Behind my back, I click a few buttons and enter the relay.
“So how do you feel?” I ask as she turns back to me.
She starts talking and I'm suddenly starting to sweat despite the chill in the air. I try to pay attention to what she's saying, but my mind is wandering.
Mira is several inches shorter than me and has the physique of a high-school cheerleader, but I know the truth. She's extremely dangerous, and not just because of her deceptive strength and speed. No, she’s also an excellent agent, extremely lethal, and smart.
She gives me another quizzical look, and I realize I must have missed something in the conversation.
“Are you okay, Ming?”
“Um, I'm sorry. I'm not feeling too well.”
“Oh.” She says. I try to read her expression, to figure out what she's really thinking, but if she's hiding anything, she's really good at it. “Well, I won't keep you,” she continues. “I...uh...” now she seems genuinely nervous and the change in her demeanor throws me off a little.
She takes a quick breath. “I just wanted to say thank you. For Cray, I mean. You were there for him when I couldn't be. You saved his life. That's something I could never repay you for.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, resisting the urge to fidget. I’m going to have to act. It’s coming any second, and if I don’t surprise her, I may never make it.
Chapter 26
Mira
I turn to walk away, feeling better about myself. But still, I shake my head. Ming is a weird character, but I guess she deserves to be weird after everything she’s been through.
The thought has no sooner crossed my mind when something slams into my back like a wrecking ball, throwing me several feet forward and facedown into the grass of the clearing. At first I'm confused, but all of my training and life experience kick in after a heartbeat and I realize what happened. The tramp kicked me! I know the feel of a foot in the back. What the heck was that for?
I push myself to my knees and spin on her, ready to attack, unable to make sense of the sudden strike. My eyes focus on her, but she's already thirty feet away, running like a coward, or so I think.
All of that suddenly changes when she abruptly dives to the ground in a ball and throws her arms over her head. I'm still trying to process this new strange behavior when a
n explosion rocks the ground, piercing my ears with a roar, and knocking me back down again.
The dome overhead implodes and glass rains down on us like a hurricane torrent, pin pricks scratching at my exposed skin and filling my hair. Ming gets up, and charges back at me, and she's on me almost before I have time to react. She throws a massive kick and I manage to move out of the way just in time, but she spins without stopping and begins lashing out with a furious onslaught of hands feet and elbows.
The clearing is suddenly caught up in a swirling blizzard as snow and ice pour into the dome like a waterfall. The pipes from the sprinkler system in the ceiling of the dome were broken from the explosion, and now water flows out unchecked, instantly turning into a wintry mix when it hits the frigid atmosphere. Mixing with the snow from the sky now also falling into the opening, it's getting hard to see more the a few feet in front of my face.
As if in response to my thoughts, Ming catches my cheek with a punch, and I see stars.
So far I'm reacting defensively, my mind still reeling, and I realize I need to get a grip or this will go badly for me. Ming is several inches taller than me and nearly as strong as most men judging from the power of her strikes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the fact that I'm still barefooted, and glass is digging into the soles of my feet and toes as I dodge and parry her attacks. The sharp pain helps me get my focus back, then I instantly shut down all pain reception in my body.
Going on the offensive, I throw a lightning jab at Ming's midsection. The blow would have ruptured internal organs if it had connected, but Ming is an experienced Sweeper with years’ worth of battle honed senses. She's moves like a leopard, and though my blows are powerful, she manages to block them soon enough or move quickly enough that none of them connect with the pulverizing force I'm trying to land.
I decide to use it to my advantage and throw an obvious haymaker that she can see coming from a mile away. But that's exactly what I want. She throws up her left arm to block the blow from doing serious damage, but I use the momentum to push her off balance, twisting her body to the side.
In a flash I'm in the air and spinning, the bottom of my foot connecting solidly with her right cheek. Not a knockout blow, but she still falls heavily backwards, several streaks of blood running down the side of her face where the glass embedded in my foot raked across her skin.
I notice that the snow all around me is stained dark red, the blood from my feet, but I don't have time to worry about it. Ming grabs something in the snow. I dive towards her in an attempt to pin her down, but she rolls and I feel a sharp pain in my stomach.
Popping back up to our feet, we face each other down, for the moment, neither of us making a move. I grab at my abdomen. My hand comes away bloody, my shirt slashed through. Ming too is sliced and bloody from being thrown to the ground, but in her right hand something glistens. She cradles a long, thick shard of glass from the ceiling. I can see where it has cut into her flesh, but she holds tight anyway.
I curse under my breath, a fresh surge of rage pouring through me like fire. I notice again the streaks of blood on her face and an idea hits me as she starts to charge, emboldened by her momentary victory. I drop to my knee and slam my fists into the ground feeling an intense but fleeting sting that manages to flare past my lowered senses as dozens of pieces of glass bury themselves in my fists. She’s on top of me now, the blade arcing downward at my face
I arch backwards and her swing misses, but it’s close enough that the blade passes through my hair. Now I have her off balance, her back to me from the follow-through of the swing, and I throw a sweeping kick with my right foot against her shins. I don’t get as much power behind it as I would like, but it’s enough to knock her feet out from under her and throw her hard onto her stomach.
She’s already rolling away from me and back onto her feet, but it costs her. As she comes back up, a dozen new gashes begin to ooze blood across her legs, chest, and back. I leap at her. She attempts a weak backhanded slash, but I block it with my right hand. I turn with the block and gouge my left fist across her side, feeling a sick satisfaction as the shards in my hand dig deeply into her ribs…
Chapter 27
Ming
The problem with Cray is that he's always been too trusting, and therefore, a bit naïve.
Back in the days when we trained together, I liked him well enough as a person, but we were never good friends. It wasn't that I wouldn’t have been his friend, but he was always stumbling over his words around the girls, and he was so far advanced above all of us that he kept mostly to himself.
About the only things he ever said to anyone were wisecracks, but I think even that came from insecurity. I mean, he was comfortable enough around the guys, but he was never “chummy” with any of them.
Most of what I told Cray is true enough. I really did love being a Sweeper. But I had another skill set that eclipsed even my fighting skills – a skill set that Archer found to be of particular use to him at the time.
When he first approached me with the opportunity, I was a little dubious and nervous, but he was convinced that I could pull it off.
It came as a serious shock to learn that he was secretly in control of the government, but I completely understood. It made perfect sense.
What greater act of selflessness than to hide in the shadows, taking the burden of leading without any of the limelight? Of course, he was well known as the head of The Organization, but that was different. In public, even that role was subject to The Council. No, I thought highly of him. To me, he was the epitome of what a leader should be. He was never afraid to get his hands dirty and even let others take the credit for his sweat and blood.
I understood the need for his secrecy. The old government before The Virus was broken. It took an idealist and man of true drive and power to change the tide.
I still don't get why Cray can't see that. I understand his sense of morality, but history is overflowing with examples of having to sometimes sacrifice things, and often people, for the greater good. To me, I see Archer as no different than a great general who sends his troops into battle. Sure, people get hurt. People get killed. But we're fighting for the survival of our nation.
In the years leading up to my faked death, Archer began to realize that the only true threat of revolt that existed for our rebuilding nation was the black market. Often, revolts rise from the ranks of those who are already predisposed to eschew authority, and the black market was a breeding ground for such people. Not only that, but they had the money and power to back it up.
Obviously, it would have been better to eliminate them, but resources were tight and things like Prohibition proved eradicating criminal organizations is near to impossible. So Archer decided on another course of action. We would keep tabs on them from the inside.
Archer devised a plan, one that like his own hidden life would need to be kept secret. To free me from my public role as a Sweeper so that I could infiltrate the black market effectively, he staged my death and shuttled me off to New York City, the main black market hub.
For months I worked small jobs, building a reputation as a hacker. Archer helped me ferret out these jobs and provided support. He gave me everything I needed. And slowly, I started to gain the notice of influential people. Giving myself the code name Raven, I worked my way up in the black market as someone of reliability.
Like the mob, the black market is ultimately controlled by a handful of powerful people. Per Archer's instructions, I did whatever jobs were needed until I gained the trust of that inner circle.
Interestingly enough, what really helped me secure the trust of the powers that be wasn't just hacking. It was my first big job for Terrance Tippin, one of the big five as I came to call them. He was the head of a particularly ruthless black market clan, the kind of guy who made the Godfather look like a kind-hearted soul.
Through various channels, Tippin contacted me with a proposition. He had a client that had shorted him on a deal. It
just so happened that this person was a high ranking official in the government, a regional sub-councilman under the High Council named Lester Hobbs.
He had set up a party with some prostitutes for himself and some of his pals. The prostitutes were Tippin’s. When it came time to pay the tab, Hobbs complained that one of the girls bailed and told Tippin he wasn’t going to pay full price. Tippin said he wasn’t notified and would have rectified the situation, but the original price stood. Hobbs only paid what he thought he owed. As revenge, Tippin wanted me to hack Hobbs’ accounts and take all of his money.
I talked with Archer, and he saw an opportunity. If I could pull off the job and go above and beyond what Tippin was asking for, there was a chance I could get brownie points in the trust circle. Hobbs became our unwitting fall guy. He wasn’t a complete loser. In a way, his sacrifice helped protect our government by getting me closer to those who could oppose it. I paid him a visit and put a bullet between his eyes. Then Archer gave me a couple of hundred grand in cash, appropriated from the government’s slush funds of course.
After that, the story was easy to fabricate. The meet was set for me to follow up with Tippin and make the final transfer of Hobbs’ accounts. When I showed up, I was carrying the cash. I told Tippin that I found out Hobbs kept large amounts of cash in his house, and since he paid me to get all of Hobbs’ money, it seemed only fair to include the cash. I also showed him a picture of Hobbs’ head with all the gory details – a death later confirmed by the news. Tippin was ecstatic, and as a result, started throwing business my way and recommending me to the other Four as someone who went above and beyond the call of duty. That deal sealed my credibility as the Raven and got me into the most powerful corners of the black market. The rest was history.
After years of hard work, anyone in the underground knows that if you need information, if you need records changed, if you need anything requiring a computer, you come to the Raven.
The Night Sweeper: Assassin: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 2) Page 17
