by Mark Eller
Eric looked strangely at Aaron. "Women are hard to understand, Storeman. She doesn't know if she's going to be dead before the day is over, and she still insists on modesty. She has to make a fuss. I really don't understand women. That's why I like them properly dead."
"Maybe she likes the idea of preserving her dignity," Aaron said.
"Even more senseless. Why bother making all this trouble when she will be cold meat shortly?"
"I thought you were going to let us live if we transferred you back."
Eric laughed. "Get real. You live. She dies. I promised Melissa."
Aaron looked toward the house and watched Sarah open the door. Turning to speak to the Gargoyle, Sarah held out an arm and then suddenly lunged with blinding speed. The Gargoyle cried out in rage as she stumbled back. Gathering herself, she righted and then leaped for Sarah, but Sarah had already darted into the house.
"The bitch!" Eric growled. He raised his hand and then lowered it only when he realized Sarah was out of sight. The Gargoyle screamed and plowed inside the house.
Taking advantage of the moment, Aaron hauled back and punched Eric in the nose. It broke with a satisfying crunch. Eric fell back and raised his hand angrily but then changed his mind. A shield sprang up around him just as Aaron tried to hit him once more. Aaron's fist slid smoothly off the shield.
Nose bleeding, Eric laughed. "I won't kill you, Storeman. I need you too much." The shield flickered, and Eric's fist lashed out, catching Aaron in the stomach. Aaron doubled over, gagging even though there was no special Talent behind that punch. Eric was just strong and very well trained.
"We could have done this easy." Eric deliberately straightened Aaron with his left hand and slugged him once again in the stomach. Lungs straining for air, Aaron fell to his knees. Far away Melissa screamed with impotent rage and pain.
Eric's foot caught Aaron in the face. Aaron's cheek split open, and he flipped onto his back. His vision wavered until it finally focused on the smiling, bloody face leering over him.
Far above Eric was a thin layer of high-flying clouds. Gaps of blue showed frequently through their powdery white.
Eric's mouth twisted evilly. His shield glimmered. "You know, I think the bitch actually did for sweet Melissa. Doesn't matter. I'll go take care of her. Maybe I'll remove her legs. That way she can still do her part of moving me back where we belong."
There was no way Sarah could defeat this man, not when he had that shield. Fighting to catch his breath, Aaron tried to pull himself erect.
Eric stomped on his stomach.
"Arrrghh!"
Mouth gaping, Aaron fell back once more and curled around his pain. He rolled slowly to his back. Far above him, the lowering sun stared accusingly from its western horizon. Wispy clouds formed mocking faces. The sound of Eric's steps grew fainter.
Damn it, he had to do something or the monster would hurt Sarah.
Unnaturally quick or not, Eric would maim and then kill her after he got what he wanted. From the sounds of it, Sarah was having trouble dealing with Melissa. The battleaxe still screamed. Melissa was one hard, tough woman.
Moving slowly, Aaron sat up and pulled himself to his feet. "Eric."
His voice was a hoarse whisper, far too faint to be heard far away.
"Eric!"
This time Eric heard his call. He turned to look back as Aaron fought for breath and staggered toward the madman.
"She lied to you," Aaron gasped out brokenly. "I have all the power. She is nothing. She cannot set you on a mountain. She--" A thought struck him. Sarah had said something to him.
Laughing, Eric raised a hand and wiped at his bloody face. A smear of red pulled across his cheek. More blood trailed from his nose. "Is it all you then, little man? Are you the one to move me? Why then, now I really have no reason not to kill the rank bitch."
"I can only put you places I have seen, places I've memorized." Aaron gathered his thoughts around him. He would move them both someplace where Eric could not reach Sarah. Someplace high. Sarah had mentioned mountains so she must have wanted him to put Eric someplace high. Aaron looked up at the clear blue sky.
Another scream sounded from the house along with a crash of glass. "Did you hear that?" Eric asked conversationally. "Dear Melissa is still trying to play. I thought she was dead, but she must have just found the wit to shut her mouth for a change. I hope she leaves your sweetheart's body in good enough shape for my enjoyment. Goodbye, Storeman. I'll see you soon." Shield still glistening around him, Eric turned away.
From inside the house, Sarah cried out.
Aaron focused his thoughts, gathered Eric into them.
He struck.
Flicker.
White spots swirled through Aaron's vision. His limbs turned weak, and his body struggled uselessly to remain erect. He staggered and then fell to his knees.
In all, it was a long time before he managed to pull himself back to his feet. He straightened just as a blue car pulled into the farmyard, hesitated, and then drove towards him. Stopping a few yards away, four car doors opened, and four men holding strange guns stepped out. One of the men looked familiar. Sergeant Aimes.
Aaron could not bring himself to care. He raised his eyes to the clouds. There, a black dot descending.
His arm stung. Looking down, he saw the protruding end of a pneumatic dart.
He looked back to the sky. The dot grew closer as Aaron's vision began wavering, but he was still able to make out the shape of a man tumbling through the air. The body fell limply, uncontrolled. Smiling contentedly as his vision blackened, Aaron fuzzily wondered if he had sent Eric high enough. He had looked at the gap in the clouds and into the deeper blue above. He had sent Eric as high as he could see. Hopefully, it had been too high for Eric to breathe the thin air. Hopefully, it had been too high for Eric to remain conscious for long, too high for him to remain awake and aware and able to maintain the shield that could possibly save his life when he finally hit the ground.
When it arrived, the impact was impressive and quite final. Aaron closed his eyes, satisfied and tired and wanting nothing more than to sleep as drugs coursed through him. He felt content and whole. He had not failed. This time he had gotten it right. He had not failed.
Chapter 24
General Field was not a pleased man. Even with the drugs running through his body Aaron was able to tell that much. He tried to pull his thoughts together, but they remained a jumbled mess. He tried to transfer, but the drugs or his tumbling thoughts or something else kept him from succeeding. No matter how hard he tried, he could not form a proper image in his mind. He could barely even think of forming a proper image.
Of course, matters might have been easier if his arms did not ache from the ropes fastening him into the interrogation chair. More than anything else, he wished he could scratch his face. It itched where bandages and stitches held his split and broken cheek together. His face itched and hurt, and the mixed sensation drove him crazy in a distant sort of abstract way. Even to his fogged mind it was obvious that they had not bothered to glue his broken bone or to seal his wounds.
Gods, it seemed like all he did lately was break bones and bleed over things he should not be bleeding over.
"So," Field said simply, "you went and turned traitor." He shook his head sadly. "We raised and trained you. We gave you back your body, and you chose to repay us by turning traitor."
Aaron tried to focus on the wavering face, but he could not make out the details of Field's eyes or nose or chin. Then, fuzzily realizing that they must have given him truth drugs, he concentrated on pulling his thoughts together, but it did no good. He could not lie. He could not even think of a lie. His vision wavered again, and then it firmed up enough for him to make a few details, create a plan.
"Sir," he said, his voice straining, "Not traitor. There are--here--though." He tried hard to maintain his plan. He had a plan. He knew he had a plan. He just wished he could remember what that plan was. Damn, but his head felt so t
hick he barely had room in it for a thought. They had dosed him too high. Aaron remembered Aimes saying that. The drugs given him had been measured out for a much larger man.
Suddenly aware of another presence, he jerked his eyes to the side and saw Sergeant Johnston. For some unknown reason, Johnston was the only person in the room his wavering vision could actually make out.
The Sergeant stood tall and confident. His face was chiseled handsome. It was the kind of face women swooned over. It was a face that made Aaron want to puke, or maybe that was just the drugs.
Wearing a faint, superior smirk, Johnston winked. "I told you I'd have a chance at you."
"I want pri--cy, sir. A--Aimes stays--John--go. Have in--in--fo--mation. Stow--way. Ki..naa. Gov."
"What is he talking about?" Field asked Aimes.
Uncaring, Aimes shrugged. "The drugs make him tell the truth as he knows it."
"Turner," Field demanded. "Are you saying we are compromised? Keep your answer simple."
"Yesss."
"Johnston, you are to leave now. Turner, does the government knows of our plans?"
"Yesss," Aaron answered as Johnston left. Short true answers were easy to get out.
"From you!" Field's anger hit Aaron like a shovel across his face.
"Sssome," Aaron told him. "Me some--some here."
"You told them something about the project while you were here?" The General sounded frustrated. A small part of Aaron felt sorry for him.
Aaron bobbed his head in the semblance of a nod. "Yesss. You--too. Shipment. Spy."
"Oh for God's sake. Aimes, this is going to take forever. How can we speed this up?"
"We can't, sir," Aimes said. "His thoughts work very slowly and not very well while he is on the drug. We have to plan on a long session."
"The hell we will. Turner. Look at me."
Aaron did not understand the order. He'd never stopped looking.
"Aaron Turner," Field demanded, "are you a traitor?"
Aaron's thoughts turned to the other side. That was his home. He had been a traitor to it, but he wasn't any longer. Now he defended it. His mind mulled over the question. Was he a traitor? The question seemed to ask if he was one now, not if he ever had been one.
"No," he slurred.
"Sir," Aimes interrupted. "Perhaps I should question him. Your questions are open to interpretation."
"I am the one in charge here," Field snapped. "I will ask the questions. Turner, did a government agent slip over to the other side with our last shipment? How did he manage to overcome your restrictions? How did it affect you?"
"Sir! One question at a time," Aimes protested.
Aaron struggled. His head felt slightly clearer. "Agent under--tarp. Changed shipments. Stronger. Makes--blood--a' over."
He wondered if he had answered correctly. His answers were true. The time frames differed but the answers themselves were true.
"This is too slow," Field complained. "The man said he is not a traitor. Sergeant, give him the counteragent to the truth drug but not to the one that suppresses his ability. Since he said he is not a traitor while under your drugs, he must be loyal. I want to have a real conversation with the man."
"Can't tran--fer. Tried."
"Sir, I don't think--."
"That's correct," General Field said. "I'm the one who thinks. That's why I have all these bars on my shoulder. I wouldn't have made myself a general if I counted on you to do the thinking."
Aimes' face was a disjointed study to Aaron's eyes while Aimes reluctantly shoved a needle into Aaron's arm. His features seemed filled with doubt, and resolve, and several other things Aaron could not discern. The injection burned Aaron's arm muscles terribly, probably an indication that the fluid should have gone into his butt since there was a great deal more muscle to absorb it there.
Field waited impatiently for a full fifteen minutes before the counteragent took full effect. "Report, private." he finally ordered.
Aaron weakly wondered what had happened to his promised promotion to Corporal.
"Sir," he said shakily, "the last time I left you I had a bite to eat and then went straight to my supply room to transfer out. The supplies had been covered by a tarp since I last saw them. Later, a day or so after I transferred over, I discovered that the original supplies had been removed and empty boxes had been put in their place. Still, transferring was difficult. I arrived at my destination very weak and covered with blood. Before long I fell over, unconscious. When I woke I discovered the switch in the supplies. Then, a few days later I was struck in the back. A wound was opened in it by a knife, and I had stitches put in. It was only afterward that I realized my wound was somehow affecting my performance. When I transferred over here, during a time when I was being assaulted, I ended up in an area I had never been to before. Several of my attackers and the government infiltrator were brought along with me." He paused for breath. Neither of the two men looked very convinced.
"I was captured by the government. Soon a man came to talk to me. I recognized him as someone I had first met inside this complex a few weeks ago, a Captain under the command of General Mays. He told me part of what he knew, and then he had me taken to be interrogated."
Aaron tried his best to look ashamed and grieved. It was easy. He thought about his Sarah, wondering what had happened to her. He thought of Perk's broken body lying in the parking lot, and he thought of Kit being lost in a city where she did not know how to survive.
"Sir," he whispered through tears, "they learned everything I know. I am so sorry. I tried not to tell but--" He let his voice trail off.
"Continue." Field's voice was unyielding.
Aaron's voice firmed. "Yes sir. I did learn some information from them. The Captain is a black man named Aybarra, Major Samuel Aybarra. He works for National Intelligence. While being questioned I discovered that National Intelligence has several operatives placed in our organization, the same as Aybarra had been infiltrated into General Mays' Militia."
Aimes looked less skeptical. "I have a file on this Aybarra. His name has come up in more than one report."
"He is a Major in Intelligence," Aaron helpfully supplied.
"Maybe there is something to this," Field speculated. "The transmitter could have been tampered with. Turner, how did you get to that farmhouse?"
"I don't know," Aaron said. "I kept trying to transfer and trying but nothing happened, and then I was at that farm. I wanted to find a number in the phone book so I could contact you, but I was scared to go inside until I was sure nobody was in there."
"How much later was this?" Field asked.
Aaron thought quickly. "Maybe two or three hours. I had to wait until the owners left."
"Yes," Field said. "That makes sense. The government initially found you the same way we did. A beacon is implanted in your right thighbone. It puts out a signal that is too weak to be captured inside a vehicle or near a city, but it shows up pretty clear once you get into the more open areas. The city has too much interference, I am told. It has too much EMF or some such thing. Fortunately, a technician who was cleaning his equipment saw your signal flashing on his monitor. He was, I am told, rather surprised."
"He wasn't nearly so surprised as I was when that man fell out of the sky," Aimes supplied. "I listened to the news earlier today. They say he fell out of a plane. Said he made one hell of a mess when he crashed through the farm roof."
Aaron tried to not look alarmed. "I suspected there was a trace on me, sir. Honestly, the thought gave me comfort since I knew you could find me if I someday became lost. I'm not sure I could survive for long in this world without your support. I no longer have any idea how a person operates here." He paused for a moment. "I'm not sure I understand about the EMF, sir."
The General harrumphed. "I don't understand it either, private. I believe it actually has something to do with all the power lines and the magnetic flux in the vehicles or something like that. But you and I don't need to be concerned about it. We pay
educated soldiers to worry about the details on such matters."
A light-bulb suddenly flashed inside Aaron's head. Breath shallow, his hands began trembling. Of course! That was it!
"Where did you get the money and the other items you carried?" Aimes asked.
"I stole the stuff I didn't carry with me from the Isabella side. Some of it I stole from the government place. Some of it I stole later."
"Untie him," the General ordered Aimes. "Kill the beacon. I want this man to get some food inside him. Give him a chance to get his head straight before we cut on him later today."
* * *
They put him under the knife that afternoon. When he woke the bandages were gone from his face. The broken bone had been glued and his wound sealed.
His left arm curled up to his chest. His fingers formed a claw, and his legs ached fiercely.
Tossing the dice of probability inside his head, Aaron was willing to bet that a small explosive once again nestled near his spine and that a certain electronic device had been reconnected. A few moments of internal testing proved that the drugs preventing him from transporting still ran through his veins. That fact, and Corporal Benson standing guard over him, showed he was still not fully trusted.
Later, word came to him. Field was having everyone associated with the project investigated. Private Gore had been found dead with the side of his head caved in, and Private Hill was missing. The word around the compound was that both men had far more money in their accounts than was justified by their wages and investments. Even their well-known scams and grafts did not account for the large amounts they had amassed.
Once Aaron's accusations were seemingly justified Field became more openly friendly toward him. Aaron was not yet restored to his position of being the golden boy, but he was treated with a bit less distrust. However, Field still ordered that Aaron's ability stay suppressed until a governor was installed into his hardware. When called, General Mays assured Field that the initial design for the new transferral machine was finished. The actual hardware should be completed in three weeks, but there was a hitch. Apparently his organization had been infiltrated. Aybarra was not the only traitor.
