Chess Players: Atlantis and the Mockingbird

by DeVaughn, A. P.

  During our two weeks in between suspension, Neiala and I grew fond of each other. It was inescapable. Her beauty and aggression overwhelmed my manly instincts, and my impulses took over. My efforts to keep this a secret have gone well thus far, yet my love for Lara hasn’t faltered.

  “Location?” I ask the rest of the team, whispering into the microphone located in my shirt. Everyone chimes in, notifying me that they are set in position.

  Neiala and Lara are at a coffee shop directly across from the building. Kim is in a high-rise hotel room in sniper position a few blocks from the target building, on the same side as the room that the Spider is suspected to be in. Steve and Keebo are in a utility van a few blocks from the building, with all of our communications equipment of audio and video feeds and a few spare gadgets. Our second getaway vehicle, which Rotiart is in, is parked directly behind the van. Ron is already inside the target building, posing as a businessman from England. He has a meeting in three minutes with a group of bankers inside of the building, on the fifty-third floor, where he’ll negotiate buying a large number of shares of a start-up software company. But he’s really there to implant a device to disrupt all electronic equipment. Rokie and I are on the subway headed toward the building, and we will enter through the maintenance crawlspace inside the subway tunnel as soon as the train stops one exit from the building. We’re dressed in business suits to blend in with the Wall Street geckos, with our utility uniforms underneath, and all of our gear and weapons are intricately concealed inside of our briefcases.

  “Neiala, Lara, you’re up,” I say.

  Lara’s job is to distract the lecherous guard at the valet parking booth with her beauty, long enough to let Neiala enter the side of the building to access the elevators’ power.

  Ron is already in the business meeting as Rokie and I are entering the tunnel. Ron’s special device inside of his briefcase—courtesy of Keebo—will be turned on as soon as I signal him. The device sends out a high-frequency jamming signal and shuts down all communication within a hundred-foot radius. Anything within that foot-jamming bubble cannot send or receive any signals of any kind, either through wire or wireless. However, the signal is so intense that it drains the battery very rapidly. The battery can’t be any larger than a few square inches so that it can fit in the briefcase. We only have about a three-minute window until the signal dies.

  The room that the Spider is suspected to be in is just two floors up from Ron. We will have a two-minute window after we enter the elevator to get to the floor and take out the Spider.

  Kim is keeping a lookout for Chimera activity from his sniper position, and Steve and Keebo give me real-time info of the positions of all of the team members. They are also intercepting any emergency calls going to or from the building if we trip any alarms.

  “Keebo, status?” I ask.

  “You have ninety seconds,” Keebo replies. “Neiala is in position, and I have Ron on standby for the signal. No signs of first responders.”

  “Copy,” I whisper. “Forty-five seconds until we reach the elevator.”

  We make our way through the utility tunnel and up into the utility crawl space beneath the elevator. “Neiala, lift it,” I say, and she lifts the elevator enough for Rokie and me to crawl through the doors and onto the first floor. We put up an out-of-order sign, grab the utility bag that Neiala brought with our video headsets and wrist monitors, and start up to the fifty-fifth floor. We take out our small arms from the false sides of the briefcases and begin to assemble the pieces rapidly. We have a few handguns with suppressors, small full-auto rifles, combat knives, and a small wireless electronic eavesdropping portable, or SWEEPer, for short.

  “Keebo, give Ron a call,” I say.

  “You got it,” Keebo cheerfully replies. “Ron, my man. Yeah, I know you’re in a meeting. No need for name calling. How’s mom? Good, tell her I said hi.” I hear in my earpiece. “It’s all set. You have three minutes. We go dark in ten seconds. You won’t be able to contact anyone for three minutes. Happy hunting.”

  We hit the fifty-fifth floor and send out the SWEEPer.

  “I’m getting the feed from the SWEEPer,” Neiala says while looking at the screen on her wrist. “There are two at the door around the adjacent corner. They appear human. It appears that there are also two signatures in the room—one female and one male.”

  “Good, that’s our target,” I say. “Gas the two outside the room and we’ll apprehend the male inside after we neutralize the target. No need to harm innocent bystanders.”

  Neiala rolls two black and shiny spherical devices the size of ping-pong balls onto the floor. The balls careen around the corner and pop open like a jack-in-the-box and emit a sleeping gas. We hear two bodies hit the ground, and then we proceed around the corner. I check the door, and it’s open. We cautiously walk in with our rifles pressed tightly against our shoulders and we see a desk with a young woman sitting at it.

  “Orb,” Neiala says with malcontent.

  “Well,” Orb speaks while standing to her feet. She begins to walk toward us, showing no fear. “It seems that my reputation precedes me. It’s been such a long time, Rotiart. The last time we met, I think your mother was in the way of a bullet that was meant for your father. And you’ve met my doppelganger in Sudan, yes? She was pretty crafty. Just a slave, of course. Expendable, just as you all are, mere pawns. She lured you in and alerted me to your presence by clicking on a live feed microphone before you killed her. We heard your entire conversation. Thanks for bringing our experiment back to us, old friend.”

  “We know of the Chariots plot, and now it’s over! Now, give us the termination code for Cerberus,” I say, pointing my rifle at her.

  “Cerberus?” she laughs. “You cannot stop the sun from rising. You cannot stop the earth from spinning. The horses will ride forever. Your attempts are futile. Isn’t that right, my lord?”

  A voice calls to me.

  “No, it can’t be,” I say in confusion.

  “Dwight,” a man says as he walks into the room from behind a hidden door, “you have done well, my friend. You’ve reached your full potential, just as we’ve calculated, and now, now it’s time to reap the harvest.”

  “Mire?” I shout in disbelief.

  “You know this man?” Rotiart says.

  “Mire?” says Mire with a sigh. “Such an unpleasant and outdated name. The name of a mere mortal. A shroud. I have a more suitable name now. You can call me Black Horse.”

  “Black Horse?” Rokie shouts. “Impossible. This is not him. This man is lying! Do not listen to him!”

  “Please, no need to deny the truth,” Black Horse nonchalantly says. “This will all be over very quickly. I just need Dwight to come with me, and that’s all. Now, let’s end this meaningless assault. Slowly drop your weapons, and I will make sure that your deaths are swift and painless. Resist, and you shall pay dearly.” Four Chimera enter the room, and Black Horse rolls up his sleeve and twists some sort of round device on his arm that looks like a large jewel. It glows a soft red. Orb Weaver does the same with a device hanging around her neck.

  “Do you remember, us, Dwight?” one of the Chimera speaks in its reptilian voice.

  “A Chimera that can talk?” shouts Neiala. “Dwight, how does this thing know you?”

  It laughs and steps closer. “You see, I told you that we would be gods,” the Chimera says.

  “No way.” I pick up my rifle and point it toward the four. “The Dead End? Tom?” I say.

  “Yes. We’ve made some, improooovements, Dwight,” he says, hissing and brandishing his new, hideous face and body. “Now, come, with, us.”

  “I won’t give up that easy. You’re not the only one with help, Mire.” I look at my wristwatch and notice that it’s flashing zeros on the timer. “Three minutes are up,” I say looking to Rotiart. “Kim, drop ‘em.”

  Bullets begin to rain in through the window in rapid succession and take out all four of the mutant Dead End, while Black Hors
e and Orb are unharmed from the flurry of rounds. Neiala and Rotiart take aim with their full-auto weapons. They aim at Orb Weaver and I at Black Horse. I fire at close range and not a round hits its mark. I continue to fire until my gun is empty, watching the bullets hit the wall behind him. The same thing happens to Rotiart and Neiala as they unload on Orb Weaver. We look at each other in disbelief.

  “Why so puzzled?” Black Horse says, slowly walking toward me. “Is it that hard to deny absolute power? Impossibilities are for the naïve.” He opens his clenched hand, and out of his palm fall smoldering bullets. “We were once naïve. But now we are far more than knowledgeable. You are looking at a god. We have acquired power unfathomable to unworthy humans. We have a right to this power, the power of the Chariot!”

  He and Orb Weaver run at us, and we pull out our combat knives. Slashing at them both relentlessly, we hit nothing but air. We are soon disarmed by the quick hands of Orb and Black Horse. We begin throwing kicks and punches that are either blocked or dodged with little effort. Then we all are dismantled and brought to the ground with kicks and punches from Black Horse and Orb Weaver.

  “What in the hell is going on?” I say, bleeding from the mouth as we all stagger to our feet, ailing from the punishment received.

  “It is destiny, Dwight,” says Black Horse. “Your efforts are futile. Now you must watch as your friends die. You are powerless to do anything. My dear, finish them off quickly. We have other arrangements to tend to.”

  Orb Weaver starts to pummel Rotiart and Neiala.

  “Dwight,” I hear in my earpiece. “Duck.” The door blows open with a loud clap. I look up through the smoldering opening and it’s Ron as he starts to shoot at Orb Weaver and Black Horse.

  “Well, don’t just stand there! Let’s go. I don’t have all day!” Ron says as he drops two grenades to cover our escape. We hear explosions behind us as we run to the elevator.

  “We have two minutes to get out and away from this building,” Rotiart says. “Let’s go, now!”

  “Kim,” I say, “get to the vans now!”

  “The power has been shut off. I have a quicker way down,” says Ron. Prying open the elevator door with a heavy crowbar, Ron lines the bottom with yellow explosive cord. “Close your ears, chaps.” He yanks an ignition line, and the bottom rips out of the elevator with a flash and a loud clap, cutting a hole a few feet in diameter. We clip descending devices to the elevator cables, ignite two phosphorus flares, drop them down the shaft, and we make a fast descent down through the elevator shaft, lightly squeezing the descending device as the wheels start to smoke and turn bright red from the friction.

  I look at my detection watch, and the needle is jumping furiously. “There are Hot Heads on the way,” I say. We get to the bottom and start our way out of the shaft.

  “Steve, hit the panic button.” Steve trips the fire alarm, and we pour out with the panicked people to the van and the other getaway car.

  I get into the van with Keebo and Steve. “What in the hell happened up there?” Steve asks.

  “We’ve lost,” I reply, looking at him with concern.

  Just then, I see an airplane flying low through the city.

  “Wait a second,” says Keebo. “Why is that plane flying so low?”

  Rotiart is silent and looks at Keebo. “Oh no,” Keebo says as he watches the large passenger plane. The plane then slams into one of the towers. The tower rocks and groans as flames from the crash burst out of the sides of the building. Glass and burning shrapnel rain down moments after the crash.

  “Neiala, what in the hell is going on?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. But we need to go now,” she says.

  Suddenly we hear pinging sounds outside of our van. “Hot heads!” I say, seeing them run at us, shooting their pistols. “Steve, drive!”

  The rounds from the Hot Heads smack the armored car, feathering the glass until the onslaught of rounds makes the passenger-side window explode.

  We peel off, laying a long streak of burning rubber on the road and careen around the corner, heading for the docks. Pedestrians and cars are all piled up in the busy metropolitan streets, attempting to flee the tragedy that has just happened. The upper half of the skyscraper is completely engulfed in flames, turning the horizon smoky gray, illuminating the asphalt with a reddish-orange as the intense light from the flames bounces off of the windows of the nearby buildings.

  We follow Rokie’s lead as his car dips, dives, and weaves through narrow cracks in the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  “Police cars!” Steve shouts.

  I put on the thermal goggles. “Those aren’t police officers. Shoot to kill!”

  Two squad cars are hot on our tail with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Ron and Neiala are firing at the squad cars with automatic weapons, trying desperately to stop their pursuit. More squad cars join the pursuit and attempt to flank us.

  “We’re four minutes from the docks!” yells Keebo.

  “It seems like half the freaking city is after us,” Ron yells, firing his weapon.

  “We’ll never make it,” Neiala says. “There’s too many of them, and ammo is running low.”

  “Keebo, where is it?” I say.

  “It’s in that box, but I haven’t worked out all the kinks yet. One percent is pushing it,” warns Keebo.

  But we have no time for caution. I put on the Predictr, which gives me super perception, and crank it to five percent. A tingly feeling starts up my arm and creeps to the back of my neck. I close my eyes. Flashes of light followed by fragments of pictures scroll through my mind and I see our path.

  “Rokie, follow us,” I say in the radio. “Steve, turn into the tunnel ahead.”

  “The tunnel is always jammed. We’ll be dead if we go there,” Keebo says.

  “Just do it!” I yell.

  We turn into the tunnel, and it’s packed, as Keebo predicted.

  “Do you see the construction zone?” I ask Steve with my eyes still closed, hand clenching Steve’s shoulder “Drive along the wall.”

  With my eyes shut, I can see hazy visions of construction workers as they dive out of the way. We take out side-view mirrors of cars standing in traffic. Out of the tunnel, we are blocked by squad cars ahead of us forming a roadblock.

  “What now?” Steve shouts.

  “Turn left into the park,” I say as screeching tires and cop cars smash into vehicles behind us.

  “Two minutes from the dock!” says Keebo.

  “Dwight, it will kill you!” Keebo screams as I vomit. “Turn it off!”

  “No, we can make it!” I say, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.

  Squad cars get close to our van on both sides, and the Chimera begin to crawl out and leap onto the hood, collapsing it.

  “Keep them off of us,” I say to our tailing car, and Ron and Kim pick them off with rifle fire, doing the best they can. “Stop!” I yell, just as we are about to enter the street ahead. We stop and both squad cars continue, slamming on their brakes, leaving a fifty-foot skid mark into the intersection ahead, where they are smashed to bits by a speeding semi.

  “Neiala, front of the van, two o’clock,” I say.

  “What? I don’t see anything,” she says.

  “I’ll be your eyes.” I grab her shoulder. “Point your rifle. A little to the left. Hold. Fire!”

  She shoots into the distance. We see a car skid off of the road and flip over as a squad car slams into the railing.

  “Amazing,” Neiala says.

  “Let’s go!” I say.

  “Oh no, what the hell is that?” Keebo says as an armored car is on our tail, smashing cars out of its way like toys. I can hear the familiar chopping of a helicopter in front of us, hovering over the dock.

  “We won’t make it!” Steve shouts.

  “Yes, we will,” I say as I turn the dial up to fifty percent. It feels like my body is on fire. I’m writhing in pain as my bones feel like they are splitting apart.

  “Dwight, no!�
� Keebo screams, trying to turn the dial back down. I push him off of me. The helicopter begins shooting at the van, and the armored car behind us opens a hatch on its roof. Out comes a man with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher aimed right at the trailing car that contains the rest of our team.

  “Is that a freaking bazooka?” I hear Ron say through the earpiece. I open my eyes, and it seems that everything around me has frozen. Raising my hand to the helicopter and my other to the armored car, it feels like my fingers are wrapped around them.

  The helicopter wobbles, starts to spin, and then loses altitude. “Turn right, now!” I scream, as things around me begin to slowly creep back to normal speed.

  The RPG is fired, and it feels like it is tethered to my hand. I guide it, and it curves out of the way of our vehicle and hits the helicopter, causing it to burst into flames. The helicopter falls and tumbles, coming straight for us. I turn toward it, hold both of my hands up, and it feels like I’m pushing a wall. “Aaaarrggghhh.” The strain on my body is unbearable. The helicopter bounces over our car in a fiery roar, narrowly missing our vehicles as we break hard right. Then the chopper hits the armored car and creates a massive explosion.

  I turn the Predictr dial back to zero, yet the pain lingers, and I can barely sit upright. I cough, and blood splatters from my mouth. Wiping my nose, the back of my hand is smeared with blood as it streams from my nostrils.

  “Dwight, are you all right?” Keebo asks.

  “I’ll be fine. But we are not out of the woods,” I say.

  The dock is just ahead of us. Leaving the vehicles, we hear more sirens approaching. Everyone scrambles down the dock ramp to an awaiting speedboat.

  “Dwight, let’s go!” Lara shouts. She runs up to me and grabs my arm, trying to drag my ailing body away.

  “No. They want me. I can draw them off. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you back at the base,” I say, grabbing her and kissing her as a second plane hits the second tower. The bystanders at the dock gasp in a panic. “You must go now. They’re coming. I love you.”

  I turn and get into the car and look into the rearview mirror. Seeing my reflection, my eyes look like red marbles with green and blue dots from the hemorrhaging capillaries that couldn’t take the brunt of all of that energy from the Predictr. Then I see Lara being pulled away, kicking and screaming, but I cannot hear her cries. I can only see the reflection of what was once a beautiful thing as my eyes begin to weep blood.