by Hanks, Greg
Seconds after we were safely inside, a torrential noise exploded into the night.
A motorcycle.
I protectively snatched the rifle and peered out through the wooden slats using the scope. Sure enough, a sleek bullet bike revved its engine a few yards from where we had been sitting. A soldier sat atop his stallion, while two others approached the sidewalk.
“What are they doing?” Tara wondered, trembling with every breath.
I tapped the top of the scope to zoom in. “I can’t hear them.”
One of the men bent over the bench, searching for something. His hands were scanning the surfaces. He noticed something on the ground where I had been sitting. On one knee, he crouched, touching a shiny surface with two fingers. Then it dawned on me.
My blood!
They exchanged glances and started pointing. In a dedicated formation, they spread out. Each soldier held his rifle up, locked into place, torchlight ablaze. They were hunting.
“Tara, they’re coming!” I whispered.
“What do we do?!” she asked, looking around in the darkness.
My mind tripped over itself. We didn’t exactly have a ton of options.
“We hide.”
I checked their positions again before heading into the suffocating pit of the building. I was sure we could lose them in such an enormous skyscraper—as long as I hadn’t left a trail straight to us.
Tara tried to sate her confusion and fear. “Mark, why are they following us?! We had nothing to do with anything!”
But it really didn’t matter why. Three soldiers were on our tail, ready to kill. I was past wondering if this was just some big misunderstanding.
We were in the dimly lit foyer of a building that looked like it had been a bank at one time. Light crept into the shadowy entryway through the boards, creating an eerie stencil on the floor. Dusty desks and kiosks flooded the chamber, linked by spider webs.
“Wait.” I stopped and probed the barrel of my MLM. “They’ve got lights on their rifles. Maybe this one—ah, there it is!” A white beam shot across the room with elegance.
Tara’s voice was hoarse as she spoke. “Let’s just go to the top—they wouldn’t spend all night checking every single room, would they?”
I didn’t want to fight anyone if I didn’t have to—Tara’s idea sounded perfect. How could they find us in this thing?
We zigzagged into the back of the foyer, looking for any sign of a staircase. The shaky light bounced off of every object, revealing elongated shadows and shades. We broke apart just enough to cover more ground.
“Over here!” she whispered, her voice cutting the tense air.
I spun and followed her down a small corridor.
“Oh no,” she said. I shined the torch upon a door next to a staircase symbol. It was covered in boards. Our escape was blocked. A dreadful realization overcame me. If they traced us to the building, we were gonna have to fight.
A large crunch came from the entrance of the foyer. I tapped my light off and we hid ourselves behind a teller’s desk. Adrenaline was spewing out of my ears and Tara was shaking beside me. More cracks and shattered wood echoed.
They were inside.
Lights from the entrance danced across the foyer. Footsteps thudded toward our location.
I cupped a hand to Tara’s ear and spoke as low as I could. “Tara, listen very carefully to me,” I began. “We can do this. We have the advantage. I’ve got enough ammo—but I need some eyes.”
She answered with forlorn silence.
“Do you see that hole where the cords are feeding through?” I gestured to the circle that gave entrance to computer cords and wires. “If you can tell me where they are, I can try and pick them off.”
She just stared at me. I knew she hated every second of this, but we were out of time. Eventually, she nodded, the water in her eyes reflecting the invading lights, rebounding off the back wall. She bent low and peered through the hole, her fingers wriggling as she pushed the cords aside.
After an excruciating five seconds, she groped for my ear and mumbled, “Three of them—two in the front, and one is still way far back. One is at least twenty yards away, by the couches.”
My bones quivered. I held the rifle in my hands, listening to the words Tara was saying. I could do this. I needed to trust myself. I took a deep breath and slowly got into position.
I waited until she gave me the signal.
She tapped my knee.
In a fraction of a second, I sprang above the desk and aimed the rifle toward the couches. I followed the assassin’s beam of light and connected the trail.
The rifle emitted two short gaps of air as the bullets travelled through the suppressor.
I heard a cry of pain, masked in scratchy vibrato. The other two soldiers swung their lights around, causing chaos within the foyer. Panting, I returned to my position. Tara was looking back at me, wide eyed.
I used my hands to direct her back to the cord hole. She resumed her station and peered out of the rat’s nest.
She came a second time, making sure her hand sealed the words within my ear. “Two more. Closest one is near the left pillar.”
I steeled myself, poked my head out, and scanned the area. A bright light began to cross over my position and I ducked back under the table. Too damn close.
She held a hand to her mouth, trying not to gasp.
I caught my breath angrily and returned. I brought my rifle to my eye again, squared up, and fired.
“Ack!”
My target continued to gurgle. I must’ve hit him in the neck. What was all that armor for anyways?
Before I dropped, the final light glared upon me with rage.
Silenced bullets mutilated the desk’s exterior. I pushed Tara around the back of our nest and we escaped with our flesh intact.
“Go! Move!” I said, realizing our chances of survival had just been thrown out the window. We scuttled to the next desk, hidden in the shade of a giant marble column. The assassin had us locked in his sights. Another barrage of well-aimed bullets dashed the marble pillar, sending chunks of it to the floor. The gunfire rattled our skulls. He was probably trying to scare us out. He knew we weren’t prepared for war.
He turned off his torch. I shuffled around the edge to try and catch his position. Nothing moved. No light was visible. Tara was shaking by my side, trying to get as low as possible. Everything slowed down. I looked at her, wondering if she would live through this night. Bullets continued to zip by, knocking wood chips and flakes of marble into the air.
This couldn’t be the end. After everything I’ve been through. After things actually had started to look better.
I felt a hard pinch; Tara was giving me a look of death and urgency.
The spell of denial broke. I kneeled out of cover and flicked my light on. I gasped as the soldier stood only two feet away from me. I pulled the trigger so hard I bruised the tendon. Six automatic rounds later, his staggering body fell to the floor followed by a plume of dust. Two bullets had punctured the ground only inches from my hip.
“Tara! He’s down!” I sort of laughed at the miracle before me.
I spun further out, hesitant to approach him. Then I realized Tara hadn’t answered me.
“Drop it.” The voice curdled my blood. The scrambled tone, the false reverb.
I turned to see a fourth guard holding Tara by her neck with a pistol to her skull.
“Okay!” I tried. “Please—”
“Do it!”
I set the rifle upon the floor, light still sending its beam toward their feet.
“Now,” he began softly, “you’re going to answer for the deaths of my—”
A huge, earsplitting gunshot echoed throughout the lobby. I covered my head and waited for death.
A few seconds passed without a second shot.
I heard light breathing; it wasn’t altered. I opened my eyes. My torch was glowing upon Tara’s limp body, crawling away from the dead soldier. The ligh
t barely captured the black helmet, blown halfway open with pieces of flesh and bone spilt upon the floor.
“Tara!” I snatched the rifle and scampered to her position.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. He’s dead. He’s—”
“It’s okay,” I cooed, pulling her into a hug.
The safety and warmth of our bodies comforted me. But the fact remained. Someone else had shot that soldier.
“Who—who did that?” she asked, breaking away.
“C’mon.” I held the rifle close and sidled around the marble pillar. When I focused on the entrance, there was nothing but broken boards and debris.
I was startled by another sound coming from the couches. My light darted to the area and I saw one of the soldiers lying on his back, kicking around like a baby.
Without confirmation on the mysterious shooter, I was reticent to do anything else. But there weren’t any more shots fired. It couldn’t have been him, could it? Was Tara the intended target? Or was someone trying to help us?
Tara spoke with revenge in her throat. “He’s still alive. Let’s get some answers.”
“Wait a second,” I said.
I cantered after her as she boldly moved toward the squirming soldier.
“Why are you following us?!” she screamed, about to kick him. “Why are you trying to kill us?!”
I restrained her while the body remained silent.
“Answer me!” she continued.
The man below me wiggled a little and, astonishingly, he started to laugh. His cackle was muffled and filtered.
That ticked me off.
“Hey!” I drove my foot into his side, causing him to squirm and groan in pain. Then I saw where the bullet had pierced him. In the small space between his shoulder piece and his chest piece, maroon mucous issued out like a gutter during sprinkler season. I knew we didn’t have much time before he bled out.
“We’ll ask you one more time,” I said. “Who are you people?!”
His laughing stopped and his arm moved. His right hand crossed, reaching for something. Out of sheer terror and reflex, I pulled the trigger.
Our only answers lied on the cold, dark floor. And I just killed him.
“Mark . . . you . . .” spoke Tara, barely understandable.
I dropped the rifle. Fear and horror started to take over. What had I done? Four people with individual lives and goals and agendas. Dead. All of them. All the emotions from earlier were starting to erupt from my core.
“M-Mark?” Her voice was like a pickaxe to my ears.
“Tara, what did I just do?” I asked, eyes on the floor. A headlight from his helmet brightened a tiny area around us. I couldn’t stop looking at his corpse.
“Mark, you were protecting us . . .”
I glanced up at her, seeing the apprehension in her eyes. They were shimmering with tears. She couldn’t have said anything to calm me down. I had just killed three people. She was never going to understand.
As soon as I felt her hand on mine, I exploded.
“No!” I yelled. “Tara, it’s not okay! There are people trying to murder us! They followed us all the way out here, just to kill us! Then what happens?! Another mysterious person helps us?! What the hell is going on?!” I ended my rant with a furious kick to a piece of wooden debris.
Tara remained silent, a fearful, hurt look upon her face.
“Slate’s probably dead. There are probably more of them coming for us. Oh, and let’s not forget the damn virus that’s slowly killing our bodies! You were right, Tara. Our lives are truly screwed!”
“Mark,” she pleaded, “someone’s out there! Maybe . . . maybe they can help us know where to go?”
“No—there’s nowhere to go!” I yelled, and found my back against a marble pillar. I slid down and put my head into my palms, stewing in my own shame and wrath.
Tara’s silence was just another spike on the mace. The more she stood there, the more I wanted to scream. She knew I wasn’t going to talk, so she walked toward the entrance like a wounded cat.
Before she left, she turned. “There’s always somewhere to go, Mark.” She padded over to a stray rifle and picked it up. “We survived Edge this long. We can figure this out, too.”
She exhaled, wiped her eyes, and trudged away.
14
Most days I thought I was an idiot. Tonight, I knew I was.
I sat in the darkness, reveling in my “inspiring” outburst. There were no screams or gunshots, so I figured Tara was okay. Maybe she just left. I had probably ruined any chance of anything ever happening between us. I liked Tara a lot, but killing that last soldier—it really set me off. I grew frustrated each time I thought about her little comment. What did she know? Did she kill three people?
The heavy weight of unanswered questions still burdened my mind. No matter what kind of depressing attitude I had, there was still the fact that Tara and I were on some sort of hit list. What were we going to do? Continue running? Where would that take us? If these soldiers planned as professionally as they looked, we had a lot of running to do.
And what about the mysterious shooter? At the very last moment, someone had saved Tara. Who could have pinpointed a shot like that? Through the darkness and all the way from the entrance, too. Not to mention the blast sounding like a sonic boom. Who would help us, and then leave without a trace?
Nothing made sense.
One thing’s for sure, though—Tara was exceptionally brave. I couldn’t believe her attitude toward all of this. Granted, my finger pulled the trigger, not hers. Her composure was still very admirable. It was her courage that motivated me to stand up.
My legs were a bit wobbly, but I managed to get my bearings. I winced as I stepped forward, posting a mental sticky note to adequately fix my shin as soon as possible. I grasped the MLM-GR by the barrel and made my way to the broken boards covering the window, picking up as much extra ammo as I could.
What was I going to say? First of all, would she still be out there? I was still a little put off by her retaliation, but sulking wasn’t going to do any good.
When I emerged from the abyssal darkness, I was extremely relieved to see Tara sitting atop a sedan parked in the middle of the street. Her back was turned to me as she stared at the stars, most likely stewing about my little episode.
Nevertheless, she was still here.
I dragged my feet to the car, racking my brain with appropriate phrases to say. I stopped and observed Tara’s petite body, the way it looked as she sat, gazing so peacefully at the heavens. The moon illuminated the street as if we were in a deep-sea trench. I took a seat on the hood, our backs facing each other.
Her voice broke the brittle glass that was the atmosphere. “I have no idea what you’re going through.”
My spine electrified. I was not expecting her to speak so quickly. I turned my head, seeing her lighted visage gazing upward.
She paused and swiveled on top of the car, facing me. “I’m sorry . . .”
“I’m the one who needs to apologize—”
“No you’re not,” she said, sliding from the roof to set next to me. “We’ve been through hell. Let’s just forget it. You had to make a choice back there, and you did. And we’re alive because of it.”
I tried to grasp the breadth of her compassionate resolve. I slowly agreed and looked across the road to the boarded window. “If it happens again . . . I’m not so sure we’ll be as lucky.
“Then let’s stop worrying for a minute,” she said, which surprised me. “Can we just . . . sit here for a while?”
I felt warm flesh against my hand. I looked down at her fingers snaking their way through mine. A pyroclasm of blood rose up my arm, rounded my collar, and permeated my entire body. Without another word, Tara set her head lightly on my shoulder and it seemed like the weight of everything wrong about my life had vanished.
The next space of time seemed to drift on as if we were locked inside of that street indefinitely. Feeling Tara’s weight on my side was
comforting—the kind of comfort felt when I knew I could sleep in on a Saturday morning. I closed my eyes and slowly sucked air as if through a straw. With so much darkness, both mentally and emotionally, a moment to deflate was definitely needed. I knew it couldn’t last, but it was nice to step away, even if for a small sliver of time. Eventually, we were going to have to make a choice. I just hoped that it wouldn’t result in more dead bodies.
“Hey,” mumbled Tara. “What do you think happened to Slate?”
The question didn’t tear me away from the ethereal sphere, but wrapped around my brain like a warm towel. I pondered what could have befallen the CEO of GenoTec. I shook my head, reluctant to think he was still alive.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I hope he made it out. He’s kind of the only link we have to this whole situation.”
“What if he did die? What happens to GenoTec?” she asked again.
“I imagine someone else would replace him. I’m not so sure.”
“Sorry,” she replied, “I’m just thinking out loud.”
“If I started thinking out loud, we’d be here all night,” I said, while Tara scoffed.
After another five minutes of recovery, Tara stirred.
“I think we should keep moving, Mark.”
I paused while she got to her feet and grabbed her weapon from the sedan.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said, about to admit a truth that I did not want to accept. “I think we should stay away from the inner city for a little while. At least until we figure out what’s going on.”
Tara became silent and slowly finished shouldering her new MLM. She looked toward the ground.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t rule that out just yet.”
Her statement was so predetermined, as if something else other than soldiers were blocking our path back home. I furrowed my brow, awaiting her next reply.
“Okay,” she said, shifting her eyes, “I wasn’t completely honest with you before.”
What on Earth was she talking about?
“When I came outside,” she began, reaching into her pocket for something, “I didn’t see anyone. But I found something else. I found this.”
