Discarded

by Mark A. Ciccone

  Hunter had sprung back at Greg’s lunge, letting the guards move between him and the fight. When neither Golem broke free, he stepped forward again, looking even more pleased. ‘Well – up and about again! I was starting to wonder if I could keep turning my back.’ The genial air faded fast. ‘I’m guessing that’—he pointed to the screen, where the dot was now approaching the Sound’s eastern rim, near Tacoma—‘is something you were waiting for? Backup from your friends down south, maybe?’ When Greg and Leah stayed silent, he moved back to Garrett’s side, wordlessly placing the knife at the Doctor’s throat.

  Despite the pain and situation, Greg felt a chuckle forming in his chest. ‘You might as well cut our throats,’ he growled instead. ‘Not going to help, any which way.’

  ‘How’s that, exactly?’ Hunter asked, dubious but also curious. ‘Even assuming your friends know where to look – and they don’t, since we’ve had enough time to confirm you’re not carrying trackers, or anything else readable through the storm – they’ll never get inside. The storm’ll take care of them, or make them easy meat when we leave.’

  ‘Didn’t say they needed trackers,’ Greg replied. ‘And I never said they were friends.’ Now his lips began to quirk, in a vestige of a smile. ‘Although given what Costa’s probably shared with Colonel Flynn, by now, I’m sure they’ll consider this a working partnership.’

  Hunter narrowed his eyes. ‘Costa?’ The eyes went wide, then shrank to slits. ‘No bodies,’ he muttered, half to himself. He shook his head, letting the blade drop a bit. ‘Knew from the start that little shit’d be a problem. Hadn’t figured he’d turn, if you did grab him – or just not so fast.’ He eyed Greg with a touch more respect. ‘Patrick turned, too, after he saw the details you must’ve gotten on his men, I’ll bet.’ His head shook again, in annoyance. ‘Never send a Ranger to do an Agency job; they’re always bound to let conscience get the way, somehow.’ He craned his head around, studying the dots again. ‘And unless I miss my guess, a whole company of that bunch’s flying out here, complete with air support. Flynn didn’t strike me as the type to do things halfway, and Costa’s whispering in his ear would only add to that. A terror cell, with top-level classified data and unknown weapons, hiding in the world’s biggest rad-zone; anybody would buy it.’

  Slowly, his anger faded. A new, cold pleasure replaced it. Still watching the screen, his neck fluttered. One of the guards let go of Leah, made an about-face, and walked to the end of the row of offices. Disappearing around the corner, he returned a moment later with a large, boxy black case: the one from the training room gallery, Greg realised, when it came into his line of sight. He set it on the platform, between Greg and Garrett, then stood not far away, hands crossed in front of him.

  Hunter knelt before the case. He snapped open the clasps, and lifted the lid back, almost reverently. With his back to Greg, the Golem couldn’t tell what was inside. The other man let out a slow whistle. He looked to Garrett, with momentary respect. ‘Still can’t figure how you kept this quiet, even with the Turmoil. Guess Barsamin went native, after so long liaising between you and the Agency.’

  Barsamin… The name clued Greg in right before Hunter stood up, giving him a clear view. A bulky cylinder, about three times the size of the canister they’d carried from D.C., sat in the middle of a foam inset. A tiny keypad and readout screen were fixed in the middle of its shiny metal surface, and several cords and other accessories – including what looked like a remote trigger – were placed around it. A small symbol was painted above the keypad, in yellow and black: the symbol for radiation.

  Absorbed in this, he almost missed Garrett’s voice. ‘He left it because there was nowhere else.’ The Doctor shifted against his bonds, more in unease than pain, although he tried to hide it. ‘He knew how chaotic things were Upstairs, even better than me. When the order to disperse came through, he obeyed – but he didn’t trust it. He suspected somebody would try to hijack the bombs en route, or that the order was the hijack. So he left one with the most secure operation on earth – the only one he thought he could trust, to equalise any threat.’

  ‘Very sweet,’ Hunter jeered. ‘I’m sure D.C. would’ve loved to hear that excuse for clinging to a WMD, once the operation was done.’ He stepped closer. ‘And you never came forward, did you? Not even once you heard about Drew’s demise – and theirs, supposedly.’ He waved to Greg and Leah. ‘No; you just went ahead with the programme.’

  Garrett remained silent. Hunter’s grin became frigid and shark-toothed. ‘And when you knew the other bomb was in play – when you knew it was bound to be coming straight for Seattle – you still didn’t do anything. You didn’t call in the threat, or warn anybody local – and by the time you did, it was halfway set off. Instead, you abandoned your post, and pulled the dirt in after you – just before burning every digital bridge on the planet.’

  Greg grasped his words a heartbeat before Garrett did. His chest constricted, making him draw breath in sharper gusts. By the dawning shock in Leah’s face, she saw the same. The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, to black spots of fury. Hunter smiled, even wider. ‘The Pulse was a smart move; that one’s, I’m assuming?’ He waved to the Gaia screen. ‘“Greatly Advanced” is right, if it managed to crash the planet and bury the Project, all under the cover of the largest nuclear terrorist attack in history. Have to see about makin’ my own, when everything here’s said and done, thanks to this.’

  He nudged the case with his foot. ‘Didn’t take much to get hold of the right group to raid the transport – a little discretionary cash waved around, and you got guns aplenty, when the Turmoil was at full steam. Then a call or two here and there, and every trace gets cleaned up by the ones you ripped off.’ He sighed, in annoyance that didn’t hide the simmering anger beneath. ‘But Barsamin turns out to be a bit more suspicious than expected – and here we are.’

  Garrett’s fists were almost bone-white. The tendons stood out on his neck like knotted cables. The chair creaked; he must be nearer the snapping point than ever. ‘What the hell are you after, Sam?’ he said, in a rage-choked whisper. ‘What the fuck is all this for?’

  Hunter pursed his lips, in a parody of deep thought. ‘Payback’s a big one, like we’ve already talked about. But that’s a little cliché, all on its own. Money’s no object; Agency pays well, even when it’s waist-deep in the red – and those Advent shares they doled out are still worth a fair amount.’ He bent forward, placing both hands on Garrett’s wrists, bringing his face less than an inch from the Doctor’s face. ‘So what else could it be?’ he half-whispered. ‘Come on, Rich. It’s staring you right in the face. Has been since the day you and I started working on it – and you’ve kept your eyes closed to it the whole time.’

  Garrett just glared back. Hunter smiled again, plainly expecting nothing else. He backed away, hand on one chin like he was studying the tableau in front of him. His gaze suddenly turned to Greg. ‘How did it feel, when you were out there?’ he asked, out of the blue. ‘When you were on missions, doing recon or right in the middle of killing somebody? How’d it feel, watching every enemy go down, or even just stroll by, knowing they were less than you?’

  Greg didn’t answer. Where’s he going with this? His mind was still tipsy with all he’d heard, but the confused thought rose above it. ‘Powerful,’ Hunter answered himself. A strange sort of glow came into his eyes – not too different from the kind Greg saw in every mirror. ‘Not just the kind of power that comes from any battle rush, or to a predator when it hunts and kills prey. The kind that only comes when you, a superior being, tracks and takes down a lesser one. The ones have the smallest chance of getting away or fighting back, they’re the best of all. But any time you use that skill, any chance you have to prove it – that’s true power.’

  Greg didn’t say anything; he couldn’t think of anything to say. Hunter faced Garrett now. ‘You did good work on this pair, and all the others, once you got the process right,’ he said. ‘But like I’ve said – here, an
d a thousand times before – you never wanted to go farther. To find out just how much better you could do. Not just with the Project – with all humans.’

  He walked in a slow ring around the Doctor’s chair. ‘Think about a world with ARC set free – truly free, and truly utilised. No serious injury, anywhere in the world, and hardly any death. Minds and bodies raised to new heights of strength, and intelligence. Every human finally equal, and more powerful than they’ve ever been in the whole history of humanity.’ He paused, significantly. The glow in his green eyes grew stronger. ‘And the ones with the greatest knowledge and strength, previously held back… they’ll be sitting in the halls of true power.’

  Hunter let out a dramatic, peeved sigh. ‘But you didn’t think of that. Or you plain refused, thanks to ethics. So I had to take steps, to show the people who supposedly glimpsed this new world that it could be realised.’ He waved to his men, who were watching with the same dour expressions, though Taylor still looked vaguely confused. ‘Obviously I didn’t go far enough in opening their eyes.’

  Irritation flashed in his look, and a deeper hatred. ‘First my work is sidelined, “kept in reserve” as they loved to call it. So I arrange for one of these, to drive home my point’—a wave to the nuke—‘and show them how halfhearted your pet Project really was. It does exactly that for about a day – and then you unleash the Pulse. I try to get ahead, make the new, blind idiots in power see the value of everything I’d done – and I’m dumped on the sidelines a second time. When the canister comes up, I set out to try a third time – and here we are.’ He looked to the screen. The glow in his eyes was burning hot now. ‘With plenty more of the nearsighted crowd soon to be dropping in. Ready and willing – eager – to make sure a new world never sees the light of day.’ After a short pause, his smile bloomed again, in the same cold manner. ‘So I suppose we’ll have to let the light in some other way.’

  Garrett’s glare bored into Hunter’s. ‘You’re insane,’ he ground out.

  Hunter shrugged. He knelt and pressed the main power button on the nuke’s keypad. The little screen lit up at once. Hunter spared a look back to his long-ago colleague. His smile was calmer, almost regretful. ‘I’m sure some back East’ll wonder about a second nuke going off in an already-contaminated zone. But the confirmed destruction of the Project – along with a number of Rangers – should convince the new crowd in the Pentagon and the White House of the threats still out there.’ The coldness returned. ‘Threats for which they’ll need the best brainpower and tools. Ones their predecessors shunned, but now stand the best chance of saving them, and the country – and will bring about the changes the world needs.’

  He stood up again. His blade danced from hand to hand, and spun in circles too fast to see. ‘In order for that, of course, all the tools have to be accounted for.’ The hilt smacked into his palm, and his fingers wrapped around it, tight. He held out the knife, caressing it against Garrett’s jaw. ‘One last time.’ He pressed the tip deeper, drawing a bead of blood. ‘Where– is– the– canister?’

  Garrett didn’t respond. The only sound in the room was the beeping of the tracker program: the dot was now past Tacoma and over the Sound, though slowing – perhaps due to the storms. When close to half a minute had passed, Hunter lowered the blade. ‘Fine,’ he growled. He turned and nodded to the guards holding Greg and Leah. They shoved the two Golems several feet closer – enough for arm’s reach, if either of them could pull free long enough for it.

  Hunter stood between them. Raising the knife, he pointed it first at Greg, then Leah, then back and forth. His lips moved silently: Eenie– meenie– minie– At moe, he stopped, the knife aimed at Leah. Smiling, he took a step closer – and slashed downward, with one sharp stroke.

  The fabric at Leah’s collar parted at once. Red splashed the front of her clinger. She shrieked in pain, and tried to tear loose, but the guard held her down. Greg lunged, only to be yanked back to his knees. Garrett pulled against his bonds, with the same lack of result. Leah tried to tug free one more time, then subsided, panting and grimacing, eying Hunter with new hatred. The wound stretched from her collarbone to the right breast. Not deep – but the edges were barely closing, and the clinger along with it.

  Still smiling, Hunter faced Greg now, the blade dripping. He paused, as if in consideration – then made a swift jab, aimed at the Golem’s left shoulder. Agony tore through his frame, from head to toe; he tried and failed to keep a scream from escaping. Gradually, the pain died to a slow burn. He made a subtle flex of his arm, and was rewarded with a new, deeper jolt; the blade must have reached nearly to the bone. Angling it up for a better view, he saw the same splatter of blood, the same slow closing, and the even slower clinger repair. A few more cuts and stabs in the right places, and he wouldn’t be able to lift his arm more than an inch, much less fight.

  Less amused now, Hunter turned to Garrett. The Doctor stared back with a burning rage, hotter than any Greg had ever considered he had in him. Hunter held the knife out at his old partner. ‘New rules,’ he said, even colder than before. ‘Every second you stay quiet, starting in the next five, they’—he twitched the point in the Golems’ direction—‘go through more of the same. You try to help them, you take the cut, and double for them. I’d prefer to be leaving now, everything wrapped up and ready to fly – but some things you never leave without making sure of them.’ He put the point to Garrett’s face, between his eyes. ‘Your choice, Doctor.’

  ‘Not much chance of flying.’ The words echoed in the vast chamber. ‘Weather’s a bitch out there.’ Hunter was on his feet in less time than it took to blink, knife at the ready. The guards spun toward the sound almost as quick; Greg was wrenched around, so that he faced the stairway. Blinking away the sudden jolt of pain from this, he refocused – and saw a single figure, standing at the top of the stairs. Hope flared in his aching frame. Cayden’s voice rang out again, flat and purposeful. ‘Step away from them. Now.’

  Chapter 27

  Greg could barely breathe. The pain in his shoulder was a distant thrum, and growing more remote. He stole a quick look behind him. Leah was watching Cayden with the same hope – though not without tiny glances at her captors, and Greg’s. Garrett was staring up at the older Golem with an odd look. Pride, definitely – yet also a deep sadness. The kind of look a father would have, watching a son in his prime going into danger.

  Hunter’s bemused chuckle broke the silence. ‘Ah. Now it’s a proper reunion!’ He let his blade hand drop, and stepped forward, though still within reach of the Doctor. His face gleamed with admiration. ‘It’s Cayden, isn’t it? The first one, in every way. I’d always hoped we’d have the chance to meet.’

  Instead of answering, Cayden moved down a step. Hunter was behind Garrett’s chair again before he took the next, knife at the Doctor’s throat. ‘Careful,’ he warned, back to business. ‘Too close, and the party gets a lot rougher.’

  Cayden didn’t appear to be listening. He came down the rest of the stairs, halting at the bottom, and looked to the guards. Something like warmth cracked through the unreadable mask. ‘Hello, guys,’ he rumbled. ‘Been a while.’ He sounded almost sad, not angry. ‘Thought Michael would’ve made it, too; nothing ever seemed to stop him.’ His gaze shifted, to Black Hair. ‘Had my doubts you’d go down that easily at the airfield, Drake. Nice to see I was wrong.’ The older Golem’s look moved to the two holding Leah. ‘Same goes for you, Joey, and you, Fred. We all went through worse, right from the start; not surprised to see you coming out the other side. Didn’t expect you to wind up like this, though, once you did.’

  The guards stared back, hostile and primed. Hunter chuckled again, with a nastier edge. ‘Don’t waste your breath. They don’t answer to you – or to him.’ He pressed the blade to Garrett’s collar. ‘And unless you want that to be permanent, keepback.’ His smile grew wider and harder. ‘Although if the rumours way back were true, I’d think you actually would.’

  ‘I don’t care about him
,’ Cayden didn’t sound angry, only certain. His fingers were slightly clenched, the sole sign of his tension. ‘Tried just walking away before – it wasn’t enough. Now… I just want all this over and done with. Doesn’t matter how.’

  One of Hunter’s brows cocked. ‘Really?’ He moved the knife away. ‘Then allow me.’ With no further warning, he twirled the knife once, and stabbed it into Garrett’s right thigh. The Doctor jerked and shouted in agony. Before he could draw breath to scream again, Hunter pulled the blade free, bringing a spurt of red – thankfully not the fountain that would’ve meant a severed femoral – and slashed it across the older man’s chest in a short, vicious cut, spattering more blood over the front of his shirt.

  Greg pulled against his captors’ grip, but only wrenched his arms painfully. ‘Stop it!’ Leah shouted. Hunter ignored her, slicing another wound in the Doctor’s stomach. He kept up a steady rhythm of slices and jabs, drawing blood almost every second, the cuts alternating from shallow to deep, from collar to waist to wrist. Garrett was panting hard, grunting or moaning with each strike, crying out when they cut deeper. Cayden’s face was rigid, though his eyes twitched at every cut, as if he were taking all of them himself. He took an instinctive step forward. One of Leah’s guards – Joey, at a guess – let go and blocked his path, the double blades dropping from both sleeves. He halted, never taking his eyes from the gruesome scene. The faint tremble at the tips of his weapons was his only movement.

  After maybe a minute of this torture, Hunter stopped, and brought the knife back to Garrett’s throat. The Doctor’s breathing was ominously slow, although his eyes stayed partway open, moving from Hunter to the others in the room, and back. He was practically drenched in blood from the neck down; his shirt, now in red tatters, barely hid a quarter of the abuse. Greg tried not to look, and failed. He couldn’t understand how the old man was still alive, let alone conscious. Cayden was a statue, without even the faintest twitch. Greg could see the readiness in his poise, though, and the hatred and anguish behind his eyes.