Discarded

by Mark A. Ciccone

  For a split second, Greg didn’t follow him – then he did. The unspoken meaning struck him like a freight train. The world turned grey and hazy at the edges; he had to plant his hand flat on the ground to keep stable. The control returned, a fragment at a time. His pulse sped up to a jackhammer, pounding at all parts of his body. He glanced at Leah. She was staring back at him, ghostly-white from shock. Cayden was staring at Garrett – but in a different way. Almost satisfied – like he’d had a question he’d carried for years, decades, and finally had his answer.

  Greg forced his gaze back to Garrett. The Doctor was watching him and Leah, a sad yet proud tinge to his smile. His face was becoming steadily greyer: the colour of ‘Tacitus’. ‘Now you know,’ he murmured. ‘All the secrets, all the truths.’ His hand leapt out again, grabbing both of theirs. ‘Go. Take them, all of them – and live.’

  Dreamlike, Greg slowly climbed to his feet. Leah matched his move. In a small, halting voice, she asked, ‘Where’s… the canister?’

  Garrett’s smile returned, relieved and pleased. One finger made a jerking motion, toward the platform. Looking to it, Greg saw the case containing the second nuke, resting top down on a nearby wreckage pile, battered but intact. Head still whirling, he went to it, turning it right side up. The nuke was intact when he raised the lid; nothing looked out of place. At first he didn’t understand – then he saw the tiny, almost invisible gap between the padding and the sides of the case. He wedged his fingers underneath this, and lifted the entire chunk of packaging away. The nuke was lighter than he’d thought; forty pounds, not much more than the heaviest equipment load he’d ever carried. Beneath this was a mesh of canvas webbing, and another space, nearly empty – except for a small metal stand. Even in the bad light, Greg could tell it was the same as the one back at the Advent Tech vault. The canister rested atop this, secure and undamaged.

  He tore away the webbing and pulled the canister free. The faintest rattle from inside said it held the thumb drive. Stiff and precise, he handed it to Leah. She looked at it, her expression somewhere between terrified and awed, then put it to her waist, below the small of her back. The clinger clasp snapped into place over it.

  The two of them looked to Garrett again. The Doctor nodded at their unspoken question. ‘Everything you need, it’s on there,’ he rasped. ‘All Project details, from names, to tools – to the ARC itself.’ He tried to make another finger twitch, toward the blue-eyed screen, and only partly succeeded. ‘Along with a full backup of her. Jorge shouldn’t have any trouble opening the files now, with her help.’ A third twitch, to the nuke. ‘All the knowledge you need – and all the protection for it.’

  For the first time in his life, Greg could find no words. He knelt by Garrett’s side, and squeezed the older man’s gnarled hand in his, gently. Garrett’s hand gripped back. He held it for perhaps an eternity, then got up, not taking his eyes from the Doctor’s. Leah knelt and held Garrett’s hand in turn. New tears were dripping down her cheeks. He smiled, grasping her hand even tighter. Cayden made no move to join the silent homage. The satisfaction from before was gone. His new expression now was strangely knowing – and shot through with an odd finality.

  A new alarm sounded. On the screen, the timer started counting down: 14:59, 14:58, 14:57. Snapping out of his funk, Greg grabbed his knife and new blade, plastering them to the clinger sheaths. Then he carefully lifted the nuke back into the case, and locked the lid closed. Leah moved to help him, but he motioned her away, grabbed one of the handles, and swung the case onto one shoulder. She nodded, and went to retrieve her own weapons, hiding a wince from the pain of her wounds, which were almost closed. He wouldn’t have any trouble hefting the case to the surface, or through the forest. What they’d do with it afterward…

  This thought came to a halt when he saw Cayden, standing in the same spot as though rooted to it. He was staring intently at Garrett, still emotionless. In a low, serious tone, he said, ‘We all weren’t just soldiers, were we? We were family, after the first one was gone. From birth through training, all the way to the end – we were the closest thing you had to a second chance.’

  He paused. ‘But it was closer with me, wasn’t it? Right from the start, I could tell there was something different – about me. It made you look at me different, every day; made you act different, too. Always the best gear – and the most challenging missions. Whenever I came back in a team, you always went straight to me, even when I wasn’t leader. When I went out solo, you were the first face on the helipad, or coming off the elevator. Didn’t think much of it at the time; you were Project head, and I was the best of the First Five. Made perfect sense, on that alone. More so, when you finally owned up. But there was more to it. Even when I was out there, trying to decide between running away, staying behind – or jumping off a cliff or drowning myself – I knew there was more.’ Another weighty pause. ‘Now I’m sure of it.’

  Garrett was silent, save for his slow, heaving breaths – which were growing ominously slower. Keeping eye contact with him, Cayden reached down beside him, and pried an object from the rubble. It was a warped, broken picture frame; at a guess, it had been on the Doctor’s desk in his lab office. When Cayden wiped away the dust, Greg saw a pair of faces staring up through the broken glass: A woman, and a young boy. The boy’s face was closer to the camera, and turned slightly to the left. When the older Golem held it up, Greg saw them in profile, side by side. It was only for the briefest of seconds – but that was all the time in the world, for him.

  Someone’s hand dug into his arm, nails cutting like knives even through the clinger: Leah. The shock vibrated into him through this grip. He hardly noticed; he couldn’t tell if he was still breathing. If someone had pushed even a little, he would have tipped over, and maybe shattered like a porcelain figure. Cayden bent closer, bringing the picture and his own impassive face within inches of the Doctor’s. The same calm gravity laced his next word. ‘How?’

  Garrett remained silent for a time. There was a new, stranger peace in his features – that of a last burden being lifted away, after years or decades. Finally, he drew in a long, powerful breath, as though saving up to get out every needed word. ‘Gwen and I, we’d tried for years, the natural way,’ he said, in a voice as hoarse as sandpaper. ‘Nothing happened. We went to every kind of specialist… they said nothing was wrong. We wanted it to happen, so badly. I could have done it myself, but Gwen… didn’t want my work to be part of it.’

  The unaffected part of his mouth turned down, in a self-reproaching way. ‘I couldn’t take the waiting, and the constant failure. So one day, I… acquired some of Gwen’s eggs… from one of the specialists’ offices, and brought them to my lab. When I was sure they were healthy, I implanted my sperm and started the test regimen. One way or another… I was going to succeed.’

  His mouth turned up, in a smile both pleased and rueful. ‘Then, the very next day, Gwen calls me at work. Seems the last time turned out to be the charm.’ The smile grew; even the paralysed half seemed to be responding. His right hand, still dotted with half-healed cuts, lifted high enough to brush the bottom edge of the photo, then fell back to the floor. ‘Nine months later, we had Aidan. A perfect, healthy son – the natural way, like she’d wanted.’ The smile faded, back to a sober look. ‘The day after we came home, I hid the eggs, in the deepest part of the CellWorx freezers. We were both getting older, so naturally wasn’t certain, if we wanted to try again. Until then… she couldn’t know.’

  The Doctor stopped to draw another breath. None of the three Golems spoke, their breathing near-silent. On the screen, the numbers kept ticking down: 13:45, 13:44. ‘I’d almost forgotten about them, even after the Project started. I had my work, and a family to get me through.’ Bleakness spread across his still-working features. ‘Then came the accident…’ His eyes found Cayden, who was staring back intently. ‘That night – the other man, the one responsible, walked away.’ A bleak grief like none other entered his voice. ‘When it happened, th
ough… he couldn’t. Not at first.’ His head sagged. ‘He was left scarred, limping, for the rest of his life, though he should have died, that night… along with them.’

  He went quiet. Greg could only stare, dumbfounded. Leah’s eyes were wet and glimmering. Cayden’s face was rigid, with the tiniest hint of shock and fear. A tear beaded in the Doctor’s good eye. When he resumed, the words came out in a near-inaudible whisper. ‘I couldn’t bear the loss – the loss I caused.’ His hand formed the shape of a gun. ‘I was staring down into God knows which number bottle, hoping the next would be enough… to do the trick.’ The hand relaxed. ‘Then I remembered the lab – and what I’d saved.’

  The reproach came back. ‘I hated myself for thinking it. Part of me wanted to pull the trigger, just for that. The only thing that stopped me was wanting back the life I’d destroyed.’ He locked eyes with Cayden. ‘So I chose to remake it, in body – and give it a strength I would never have. The Project might be its purpose – but the mind, and soul, would be all its own.’ His smile returned, warmer, prouder and happier than at any time since their arrival. ‘And it has been.’

  Cayden set the picture down. He didn’t look angry. There was almost no emotion in his look at all, in fact, a one-eighty from the near-insane rage not that long ago. Rather he looked… satisfied. Like he’d gone his entire life with a question hanging over him, too afraid or too unwilling to explore it – and had finally gotten the answer, which counted for more than any pain or joy it brought. He brushed aside several bits and pieces of concrete and metal, and knelt down beside the Doctor. Watching this, Greg could suddenly see the telltale signs: the hair, the jawline, the shape of the skull. Even the facial muscles moved in much the same way. The effect was dumbfounding – and mesmerising. All this time… One quick flick of the eyes, to the Gaia screen. And where else could that voice have come from, if not from her?

  This look made him see the countdown timer again: 12:30, 12:29. He stole a glance at Leah. She was still crying – but the set of her body was firm, and ready. She stepped up to the two men, and knelt before them. Delicately, she leaned forward and kissed Garrett on the forehead. The Doctor smiled in thanks, eyes also wet. She rose, made a slow about-face, and began walking to the stairs. A faint trembling rippled in her shoulders; other than this, she gave no sign of any emotion.

  Greg looked to the two other men himself, the unspoken question plain. Garrett’s disfigured visage dipped in silent reply. Cayden made the same wordless motion, and got to his feet. One hand moved to the grip of his knife, still in its clinger sheath. He slid it free, studying the well-worn hilt and near-pristine blade. Instead of hurling it away, as before, he let it fall from his grip, to land with a clatter amidst the rubble. Looking quietly pleased, he held his hands out in front of him. Greg glanced at his own as well. He understood perfectly what Cayden saw. For the first time, they felt truly empty. Like they were finally free, to do far more than they’d been made for.

  Cayden lowered his hands. He looked to the old man – in every way, Greg thought with an inward smile. ‘I found the cabin,’ he said, almost out of the blue. ‘Wasn’t sure I would, at the time – wasn’t sure of a lot of things, then. It was rough, some ways – but it was happy, in most.’

  Garrett nodded, the only movement he could manage. ‘Found it on a trip with Gwen, not long before we got the news. She loved to hike, more than anything; said she wanted to hit every park in the country, before… ’ He fell silent. When he resumed, it was in a more plaintive voice. ‘I would like to see her there, one more time. Her, and… ’ He broke off again, from shame or grief.

  One of Cayden’s hands drifted. It found the Doctor’s still-working right, and squeezed. He shifted, turning his head in Garrett’s direction. The Doctor’s look locked with his, tears welling. A low rumble reached up through the floor. Cayden didn’t close his eyes, or look away. He felt no sadness, no fear, no anger, nothing – just a profound peace. Softly, he said, ‘We all will, one day… Dad.’

  The intact side of Garrett’s face bloomed in a smile. Cayden smiled back; his first real smile. He held out his hand to the Doctor. Straining with effort, Garrett managed to bring his arm up, and grasped it. The moment stretched; even the countdown seemed to pause. Then Garrett let go, swinging his arm in Greg’s direction. Greg seized his hand in turn. gripping tight. The world blurred in front of him. He blinked hard, until a semblance of clarity came back. Slowly, stiffly, he released his grip. He, Cayden and Garrett all stared at each other, without sound or movement. Then Cayden turned, and started after Leah. The set of his shoulders showed how hard he was keeping himself from looking back. Greg followed, trying to match the poise. His legs wobbled, now and again, but he stayed upright, and moving. The nuke case, impressively light before, now seemed to weigh him down more and more with each step.

  Leah was waiting beside the elevator, standing at perfect attention. Before they stepped into the car, she took one last look toward the lab. Greg and Cayden mimicked her. The Doctor was out of sight, of course, but he could still sense the man’s eyes on the lobby – and them. On the screen, the timer showed a little over ten minutes left. Plenty of time to get to the surface, get clear of the compound, and back to the beach, with the right speed.

  Leah moved into the car, and pivoted, finger hovering over the button. Greg followed suit. He stared at the lights above, keeping himself from one final look by sheer force of will. Just for a microsecond, his foot twitched, ready to propel him back out and drag the Doctor along with them. He’d have gladly carried him, along with the nuke. All that’d been said, and done, before Hunter and his crew showed up – all that he’d learned, and come to hate, since coming here… it all seemed distant. Not unimportant, by far – but far more different than anything he could have imagined.

  The closing of the doors cut this impulse short. The lift shuddered into motion, rising up at a rapid clip. He lowered the case from his shoulder, carrying it by the handle. His arm seemed to sag under the weight, to where it almost touched the ground. Illusion – for the most part. He was right, the Golem reflected, with a new flare of sadness. The canister – and the nuke – were the keys to the Sanctuary’s future, and that of every other Golem, still out there, in hiding or on the run, completely in the dark on why. After tonight, the doors’ll open– for all of them. What would come next, he couldn’t even begin to guess. His eyes went to the floor. Thanks to him, we’ll have the chance to see it.

  *

  The darkened forest began to thin out: fewer trees, more ferns, tall grass and other brush. Up ahead, Greg could just make out the shoreline. Out over the glittering waves of the Sound, he spotted a trio of blinking lights, and heard the soft humming of ‘Wraith’-upgraded rotors. He slowed his pace, until he was down to a brisk walk. They were already far enough; no need to force it, not anymore. He didn’t look back, only tightened his arm around the case on his shoulder, stepping or hopping over the occasional root, stone or fold in the ground. Leah kept up the same pace, hands floating above her weapons. Her face was calm, and dry of any tears – though the hurt was easy to see in her eyes.

  The humming grew louder; the Black Hawks must be at full throttle, sacrificing stealth for speed. Greg walked past the treeline, into the clearing that fronted the beach. The centremost set of lights grew larger and brighter, aiming for the same spot. The other two branched off to north and south, likely to set down at flanking sites. Greg halted, ignoring the steady wind off the Sound and the gusts from the chopper buffeting at him. Leah did likewise, watching the approaching lights impassively. Cayden didn’t even glance up, only stared straight ahead, not registering anything.

  Twin searchlights stabbed out, focusing on them. Greg didn’t blink, or pull his hood. Gracefully, the Black Hawk set down on the flat stretch of earth and grass, beams still trained. Half a dozen men in NBC suits tumbled out, laser markers already centred on the three Golems’ heads and chests. They fanned out in a semicircle, keeping a fair distance. When ne
ither Greg nor Leah made any moves, one of them put a hand to his ear, then waved to the chopper. Three more figures climbed down at once. Two were in the same NBC gear, masks off; the third wore a clinger, hood thrown back. Even through the glare, Greg had no trouble discerning Costa, Patrick and Hiroshi’s faces.

  The three new arrivals stepped past the firing line. Costa looked pleased; Patrick and Hiroshi determined. ‘You made it!’ Costa called over the whirring chopper engines. His smile grew when he saw the case in Greg’s grip, and spotted the canister on Leah’s belt. ‘Looks like you found some answers, too!’ When neither Golem said a word, he gestured, a little awkwardly, to his companions. ‘Managed to convince D.C. to have us be the military and Agency point men for the Zone, given the sensitive aspects! Shouldn’t have any trouble sorting this fucking mess out for good, soon enough!’ He pointed behind him, eastward. ‘Sanctuary’s got the word; they’re prepped to help in any way! More choppers are inbound from Yakima and near Portland, to assist in securing the area! Soon as that’s done, we’ll—’

  A crackling roar to the west cut him short. A bright flash of yellow-orange light burst through the clearing, rising and expanding in all directions. Costa and Patrick each threw up an arm; Hiroshi pulled his clinger hood up for a few moments, then let it drop again. The Rangers flinched away, cursing and grabbing at their night vision goggles. Greg didn’t move; nor did Leah or Cayden.

  Two or three seconds after, the shockwave rippled over the scene: strong enough to rock him a little, and make the new arrivals stagger and reel. In the Black Hawk’s main window, he saw a spreading cloud of fire, dust and smoke. The blast had surely levelled the entire Facility, as promised – and incinerated the naval base, and all the land for miles around it, too. How many thermobaric bombs had there been? Plenty – that was all that mattered. Burning bridges… every last one. Now they were on the other side for good – and for better or worse.