Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA

by Conway, Melissa

  He made a quick detour past his cubicle to grab his leather jacket, putting it on over his vest. When he opened the door to the stairwell, he was greeted by darkness. He switched on the flashlight clipped to his utility belt to illuminate the steps and began to take them rapidly. Halfway down, he heard panicked voices echoing up the stairwell. When he reached the second floor, he saw why no one had come up – the first flight was gone. The moving-type truck he’d seen in the background of Shasta’s holocall had smashed through the wall and torn the lightweight biopolycrete steps completely away from the second floor platform.

  Scott knelt on the unsteady platform and peered over the edge. The cab of the truck was directly below him and the back of it was blocking the hole it had created in the wall except for a chunk of missing along the right side. Through that opening, he could see water from the fire sprinklers raining down in the lobby.

  In the corner across from the truck, near the closed door to the parking garage, a cluster of people were hunkered down behind a hastily constructed barrier composed of the remains of the staircase. The low light coming in from the lobby made it hard to see exactly who was had taken refuge there, but he assumed it was people from the building.

  Someone from the lobby fired a shot into the stairwell that ricocheted off something. The bullet thudded into the wall not far from Scott’s head. He unslung his rifle and aimed, but from this angle, he could only see a patch of the lobby flooring beyond the hole.

  To his relief, he heard Shasta’s voice. “Is that you, Agent Harding?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You got any ammo for a standard-issue weapon?” It was Alton.

  “Plenty.” Scott set the printer down, took four clips out of a pocket and called out, “Heads up!” before lobbing them one by one into the group of people.

  Just then, Nicola and Bob arrived, hesitating on the lowest step above the platform.

  “Doesn’t look safe,” Bob said at the same time Nicola asked, “How are we supposed to get down?”

  Scott didn’t answer. The cab of the truck was only maybe a five-foot drop, but at least one of the xenos in the lobby had a gun. Someone, Scott thought it sounded like Chief Joe, shouted, “We got you surrounded! All we want is Lupus and you can go.”

  “Yeah right,” Scott muttered. He looked down as something occurred to him. He’d worked with Chief Joe on the job to recover the panda from the ARA. They’d used a ten-foot decommissioned U-Haul truck, and unless he was mistaken, that same truck was right below him. It was armored and had honeycomb bullet-proof tires. Chief Joe had been an ex-NASCAR mechanic, so Scott knew the truck would have been running fine before the crash. Whether it was running now was the question.

  For the driver to have gotten the truck to its present location, he would have had to drive it up the wide, shallow cement steps in front of the building in order to crash through the aluminum-framed glass doors. The fact that he’d also curved to the left and smashed into the far wall indicated one of three things: he’d panicked and lost control, overestimated the speed required to get the job done, or the truck had been damaged.

  Scott leaned over the far side of the platform. It creaked ominously, but from that vantage point, he could see the front of the truck, which looked banged up, but didn’t appear to be totaled. The driver’s side door was open and the keys dangled from the ignition.

  He turned to Bob and Nicola, who’d stepped out onto the platform but were hovering near the door leading to the second floor. “Wait here, but be prepared to jump when I say.”

  Bob looked terrified, but nodded.

  Nicola said, “I’m not jumping.”

  “Oh, really?” Scott strode across the platform and before she realized what he was doing, yanked the birdcage out of her hands.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed.

  He ignored her, walking back to the edge of the platform. With his free hand, he held up a concussion grenade. “Shasta?”

  “I see it. We’re ready,” she replied.

  He pulled the pin, bent down, and with his best high school baseball sidearm throw, sent the grenade flying through the hole in the wall. As soon as the blast went off, he stepped into thin air, one hand holding the birdcage and the other the printer.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Maddy looked down her nose at Fournier, her lips twisted in a grim approximation of a smile. “Padme told me you would move the program, but even I didn’t think you’d be so foolish as to let it fall into XIA hands.”

  “I’d rather they had it than you,” Fournier replied. “Or your father.”

  Maddy frowned. “My father? How is he relevant? No, don’t answer. I’m quite sick of everyone bringing him up.” She paced to the kitchen and back, hands folded in the small of her back.

  “Assuming for conversation’s sake I believe you, who exactly in the XIA has it?”

  “By now it’s possible my people have gotten it back.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Padme filled me in on the details of your little rescue attempt. Quite bold of you, I must say, but unfortunately for Lupus, I arranged to have a few of my people blend in with the mob as a favor to her. She’ll rest easier knowing that sadistic bastard is dead.”

  Bryn wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying, but it sounded like Fournier was attempting to rescue Lupus. She didn’t know where he was being held, but assumed it was some place like Rikers. No matter where it was, arranging a prison break seemed ambitious even for Fournier.

  Maddy clapped her hands, producing a sudden pop of sound that made Fournier jerk like he’d been shot again. She reached out and snatched the holopiece from his ear, and then removed the gun from his waistband. “I’ll take those. We’re going on a little field trip. That arm looks painful. I much prefer you take us to the control room under your own power, but if you try to run, Dillo will shoot you in the knee next time. Is that clear?”

  Fournier nodded.

  Maddy tucked the gun into the inside pocket of her jacket and turned her attention to Bryn and Mia. “You two present a bit of a problem, but for the time being, I’m going to take you with us. If what he says is true,” she gestured to Fournier, “you might come in handy.”

  Bryn scowled. She knew exactly what Maddy meant: if the XIA did have the nanoneuron program, Bryn would once again be Maddy’s leverage to force Scott into doing what she wanted. A crushing sense of helplessness swept over her. She was sick of being treated like a pawn on a chessboard.

  Maddy put her sunglasses back on and said, “Shall we?”

  She led the way towards the door, the female xeno a step behind. The bald xeno grasped Fournier’s uninjured arm and jabbed the short barrel of the shotgun into his side before marching him down the hallway. Dillo waited to escort Mia and Bryn. Mia picked up her purse and wrapped her arms around it, daring Dillo with her eyes to take it away from her. He seemed unconcerned, however, and simply waved for them to precede him. Bryn stayed close to Mia’s side as they left Fournier’s quaint little farmhouse.

  They traveled on foot, passing the motionless body of Dundee in the driveway. The surgical mask, still attached to one of his ears, fluttered in his face from the cold breeze off the Hudson. Bryn stared in revulsion at a blotch of half-congealed blood in the blonde hair at the back of his head. If he was dead, she certainly wouldn’t mourn him, but despite the amount of violence she’d been exposed to lately, she wasn’t immune to it. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed against a rise of bile.

  She glanced over at Dillo’s impassive face as they walked past Dundee’s truck. When she’d met him, he’d seemed almost kind underneath the frightful surface – but since then he’d proven to be completely loyal to his queen. With a little shiver, she remembered what he’d told Maddy in yesterday’s standoff: “I’ve got her in my sights. Just give the word.” He’d been referring to Bryn and the fact that he was willing to kill her at Maddy’s whim.

  Near the barn, where earlier it had been quiet, now it seemed as if there we
re animals everywhere. A goat stood behind the picket fence, a clump of purple and white pansies hanging from its mouth. A pink sow with black spots on her rump suddenly ran squealing across the lane and disappeared into a box hedge.

  Fournier walked resolutely along the drive next to the bald xeno, blood dripping from his knuckles into the gravel. His head turned this way and that as if he was looking for someone who wasn’t there. His soldiers, probably, Bryn thought. Maddy had arranged for some kind of diversion. Had her men killed them?

  They passed the barn, and the white doors that had been closed on their arrival were open and swinging slowly in the wind. The animals must have come from there.

  At the top of the hill, Bryn looked around and realized what Maddy’s diversion had been. She’d arranged to have all the animals on the farm released. The cows and sheep Bryn had seen earlier had been joined by several other species, some of them quite exotic, all running loose in the fields. A deer-like animal, she thought it was an impala, bounded along the fence line, chased by what could only be a cheetah. A man on horseback headed the cheetah off and attempted to shoot it.

  It occurred to Bryn that Fournier’s men weren’t dead; they were out chasing down his livestock.

  “If you’re wondering how I did it,” Maddy said, addressing Fournier, “it was pathetically simple. A few shots fired into the air, and while your brilliant soldiers went running to investigate, Padme remotely unlocked every door on the property.”

  “I didn’t know she could do that,” he mumbled.

  “You severely underestimated her,” Maddy said, finishing with an upbeat, “to my benefit!”

  At the bottom of the hill, the tall chain link gate was wide open. They walked through it unchallenged and continued on down the road towards the abandoned manufacturing plant. Bryn hadn’t seen any vehicles other than Dundee’s truck, so she assumed Maddy and company had arrived on the yacht’s outboard. Mia seemed winded, so Bryn offered to help her, but she shook her head, either from stubbornness or because she didn’t want to be touched.

  The men Bryn had seen patrolling the plant were still on the job. When the closest one caught sight of his boss he reached up to his head. A moment later, a tone sounded from Maddy’s coat pocket. She pulled Fournier’s holopiece out and held it up for the man to see.

  “I suggest you tell them to stand down,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Scott landed on his feet on the cab and immediately dropped down behind the lip of the back of the truck. From there, through the sheets of sprinkler water, he saw a circular scorch mark surrounded by broken tiles, which told him his grenade had rolled into the middle of the lobby. There were no bodies nearby, but he spotted some of the xenos hiding behind the body scanners and x-ray belts, while others had taken refuge in the elevator alcove. He couldn’t see much beyond the alcove, but he got the impression the food court had been trashed. He presumed the counters at the various establishments there were also providing cover for the xenos.

  What had started as a mob appeared to have dwindled to maybe twenty determined men and women. Most, if not all, would be Xbestia. He set the birdcage and printer down and called, “Cover me!”

  As the others responded with a hail of bullets, he jumped off the truck, retrieved the cage and printer and ducked inside the cab. He shoved the cage onto the passenger seat so he could shut the door. Perky screeched in protest at the rough treatment.

  He grinned when the truck started right up, thinking, something’s finally going right.

  He backed up over the debris into the lobby. Water rained down over the windshield, so he turned on the wipers. Bullets began to hit the exterior of the truck with dull, metallic thunks, and broken glass crunched under the tires as he performed a three point turn. When he backed the truck into the hole, Chief Joe appeared from behind the closest x-ray conveyor belt and, even though the xeno knew the truck was essentially bullet-proof, emptied his clip at the windshield. The Native American xeno’s mouth worked as he shouted obscenities Scott couldn’t hear in the cab. Chief Joe would undoubtedly recognize him, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

  Once he’d angled the truck so it blocked most of the hole, he shifted into park, removed the keys and slipped between the seats into the back of the truck. As soon as he opened the back doors, he tossed the rifle to Alton, who said, “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  Alton dropped flat to the ground and army-crawled under the truck. Scott knew he’d been a sniper in the war, so from behind the front tire, he’d be able to target xenos as soon as they raised their heads to shoot. With Alton providing cover, Shasta shuttled the survivors into the truck.

  Scott went around and looked up at Bob and Nicola. The back of the truck was higher than the cab, but the truck was no longer directly under the platform. Bob stood frozen with his hand on the handle of the second floor door.

  Nicola scowled and shoved past him. She made the jump easily, sat down, flipped onto her belly and dropped to the ground. She gave Scott a look that was both triumphant and filled with disdain. Then she started for the driver’s door, clearly planning to get to Perky’s cage. Scott grabbed her arm and said, “Get in the back.”

  She frowned, but he didn’t hear what she said over the thud of Bob’s feet hitting the top of the truck – only when Scott looked up, he saw it wasn’t his feet. Bob was lying flat on his back, and at first, Scott thought he’d just slipped on the wet roof of the truck. He’d landed with one arm sticking out over Scott’s head and it took a moment for Scott to realize he hadn’t just botched the landing – he’d been shot.

  Chief Joe would have known the instant Scott began backing the truck into the stairwell that Scott’s intention was to rescue his trapped coworkers and escape in it. With the truck blocking the hole and Alton providing cover, any shots fired towards the stairwell were unlikely to hit anything. Unfortunately, one of the xenos had gotten lucky and hit Bob.

  Scott swore, shoving Nicola out of the way before grasping Bob’s arm and pulling the prone man down into his arms. Bob’s eyes were shut tightly, his mouth open in shock. The bullet had missed the vest completely; his khakis had a hole in them not far below the beltline. There was blood, but not much.

  Bob was heavy and didn’t seem capable of standing.

  “I need some help here!” Scott called.

  Shasta glanced around the back door of the truck. “Alton! Let’s go!”

  Alton took another quick shot before rolling out from under the truck and springing to his feet. He took one look at Bob and said, “I’ll get his legs.”

  Between them, they got Bob into the crowded truck. The XIA and security staff inside were quiet and hollow-eyed. Several were injured, with bloodstained, makeshift field dressings. Nicola was sitting cross-legged on the floor. When Scott backed in, she held her hands up, so he lowered Bob’s torso in front of her. She pulled the tech’s head and shoulders onto her lap, cradling him gently.

  Shasta was waiting for them behind the protection of the rear tire. “Last one.” She lifted her chin at a figure slumped in the corner behind the barrier. “I gave him an extra dose to keep him compliant, so moving him will be a challenge.”

  Bob had been heavy, but Lupus was much taller, a big man with dense muscles. He was dressed in a short-sleeved, prison-orange jumpsuit and was conscious, but barely responsive. He had no shoes, just white socks with dirty imprints of his feet on the bottom. He smelled awful, a combination of human body odor and wet dog. Scott thought at first he wasn’t even aware of what was going on, but when Alton helped him haul Lupus to his feet, Lupus’ shaggy head swung Scott’s way. Eyes at half-mast in his hairy wolf face, he slurred, “Going to kill you.”

  Scott turned away in disgust. “What, with your breath?”

  Lupus dragged his feet most of the way to the truck, making the short journey as difficult as possible. Not far from their goal he suddenly went limp, head lolling forward. The sudden weight of his body as
he sagged to his knees jerked his wrist out of Scott’s grasp. As Scott turned to prevent him from crashing to the floor, he felt a hand at his belt and knew the collapse had been a trick.

  “Grenade!” he yelled as he clamped both hands around Lupus’ forearm, digging in with his claws and forcing the arm backward. Almost simultaneously, Alton knelt and clasped Lupus to him, pinning his free arm and getting him into a headlock. Scott knew in a close fight Lupus had the advantage, but not against Scott and Alton both, and not while under the dulling influence of whatever drug Shasta had given him. The grenade itself was no threat as long as Lupus couldn’t pull the pin.

  “Let it go,” Scott said through gritted teeth. His claws were deeply embedded in Lupus’ flesh, but even as rivulets of blood began to trail down his arm, Lupus kept a death grip on the grenade.

  A gun barrel appeared against the grey and black fur on his temple and Shasta said firmly, “I will do it, Agent Quinones. You are not worth risking my people.”

  Lupus abruptly relaxed, but before Scott could retract his claws and retrieve the grenade, it dropped, bouncing off Lupus’ right calf and rolling a few inches away from his stockinged foot. Scott barely had time to register the danger when Lupus shifted his weight onto one knee and swept the other foot out, shooting the grenade on a trajectory that sent it under the truck and into the lobby.

  “Present for you, Joe!” he howled.

  Chief Joe now had a high-powered concussion grenade, courtesy of the man he’d come to rescue.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Maddy left the female xeno, whose name was an unxeno-like ‘Rose,’ guarding Fournier’s six soldiers. Those men watched warily as Maddy forced their leader to march towards the abandoned manufacturing plant. Other than the steady plod of their footsteps, the only sound was the wind whistling mournfully through sagging utility pole wires, and the clatter of dried leaves swirling in the space between two rusty smokestacks. To Bryn, the site seemed more than just neglected; it felt like a ghostly, sinister presence lurked here.