The Chess Pieces
Page 7
In all of a single second, she tackled her way through the men, knocking them to the ground with broken bones. The last of them was met with a kick so powerful it launched him through the glass and into the lobby on top of a table. Those who were laid out on the steps were either dead or barely alive, either way no longer a factor.
In the lobby, she was met with another dozen soldiers, most on the balcony overlooking the elevators. Bullets went wild as body after body hit the violet carpet. They tried hiding behind columns, but Mari quickly circled around the room picking them off. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the elevator heading up.
One soldier sneaked in with a M203 grenade launcher equipped M-16. He was crawling alongside the base of a fountain, in its center a bronze statue of a harrier hawk. Close to the elevators and far from the columns by the reception desk, he was sure the cyborg was oblivious to him. That and the fact that she was currently wiping out every other soldier in the room. He waited no longer.
The soldier fired a grenade at her back, but the shot was too high. Instead of hitting Mari, the explosive hit the column she was next to, sending dust everywhere. The man fired more grenades as Mari now darted between the columns. Chunks of them landed everywhere, but not a single shot reached its target.
He attempted yet another shot, but this time there was no grenade to fire. The soldier was now left alone in the lobby-turned-killing field. His fellow men were all slumped against the walls or face first where they had fallen. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing and the gun fight outside.
“Come on, FACE ME!” he yelled in his native tongue.
“At your request,” a voice echoed back.
The soldier whirled around only to feel Mari’s hand grab him by his terrified face. Before he knew it, his feet were off the ground and up into the air, Mari smiling at him. He fired his weapon one last time just as she brought his head down on the wing of the statue. Blood sprayed as the metal form donged from the blow. The soldier fell into the water, spreading a crimson cloud within it.
Mari picked up his M-16 knowing the grenades would be useful. The lights shut off, leaving the only light the sun’s from outside. The stairwell it is, little man. I’m going to give your soldiers quite a show.
***
The Dragonfly came back around, this time focusing its fire on the second-to-top floor of the parking structure. The targets were far trickier to hit but, all the same, most enemy fire was directed at the aircraft. Down below, Carson and his forces began to close in on the last of the opposition. Having fallen back to the lobby, it was now the UNR in the courtyard.
“Begin the mop up operation,” the lieutenant commanded. Several of the soldiers alongside the local police started to swarm the building.
***
Mari heard the confirmation in her ear piece: reinforcements had entered. They would pick off the stragglers, so now she realized this was it: the Big Finish. An hour into this and she’d surmised their strategy: each floor, a wave of children would come at her and in the ensuing fight the remainder would run off. She didn’t care if there were a few pockets hiding out on the floors she left behind. All that mattered was battering way through to the head of the snake. Running up the stairwell, she could hear the last of the resistance running down to meet her.
The biggest horde yet she observed. Indeed, forty or so men were bearing on the cyborg. Her scans showed very few on the remaining floor above, so this was it. Her guns dry and all out of grenades, she went to the only weapon she had left.
Mari rounded the corner and used her still-sheathed sword to strike a man in his neck before actually drawing it. The body tumbled down the stairs, and she ran into the disorganized pack. The gleam of her neoartium blade was the only beauty amongst the bloodshed she left in her wake. Cleaving through men like a scythe through wheat, she felt warm blood splash her face. She did not always arch the sword into the flesh for a killing blow, only what was most expedient to get past the throng and find her desired target.
She finally reached the uppermost floor, leaving behind in the stairwell forty-two men hacked to pieces. She knew it’d be hard for the number-runners to count it themselves, seeing as they would find mostly severed limbs, disemboweled innards mixed with the innards of others, and the many beheaded who it’d be near impossible to match with their bodies. It was a bloody mess they’d probably try to dismiss and add to the general body count, but she’d tell them the specific number. It had to be added to her records, and she’d be willing to go over every last detail in her report.
***
“We’re just about wrapped up here, Captain,” Carson reported over the phone, “and a damn clean op at that. Still, the Hayford Building hostile count was pretty high. This was part of something bigger, sir.”
Carson was standing next to a bench outside. Things had grown considerably quieter, though he was surrounded by bodies. It was nothing the cigarette in his mouth couldn’t ease, though. He was unaware that a gun’s iron sights were locked onto him.
***
The super soldier kicked the door open, in effect snapping the hinges off the fragile wood. Mari cleaved the sword into a troop’s chest, laying him out sloppily. The other two people in the room watched in horror, unable to move.
This room appeared to be a large office, complete with a mini-fridge and file cabinets. A wall of glass was to her left, giving one a nice view of the building opposite. Sitting at a cluttered mess of a work station table was the man she sought, his back to a glass sliding door.
His remaining cohort stood in front of the desk with long hair down to her quivering shoulders. Her aim was erratic and if she had been firing, the room would have been pelted with the bullets from her weapon. The cyborg walked up to her; the woman took steps backward in turn, almost against the desk herself.
Mari used a single hand to grip the woman’s throat and only then did she fire, the bullets eating away at the floorboards. With not a smidge of effort, the super soldier hurled the woman into the glass doors, over the head of the ducking man. The soldier flew right through and right over the balcony rails. Marisol took in every millisecond of it, watching the woman flail her arms and legs as she dropped out of her sight.
The leader stood up now, hands up in the air.
“Please, please,” he whimpered in broken English, “I am unarmed.”
Mari heard the round pop off and knew it wasn’t exactly a fifty caliber. Still, it caused her body to jerk when it made contact with her neck. Blood spurted on to the carpet, the man’s gawk one of stupor.
Despite the gaping wound now in the side of her neck, Mari still stood. Her eyes turned toward the now-gone window, only fragments of the glass still in the corners. Her focus went beyond, to a sniper at a window the building across. She met his disturbed gaze and watched him prepare for another shot.
She picked up the dead man’s small firearm and turned her weapon in his direction, lowering it slightly. Lucky shot, you prick. Let’s see you under pressure. Her HUD magnified the proper distance before letting loose with a single shot. She heard his gun go off only a second or two afterward. Her shot ended up between his eyes while the sniper’s blew a hole in the cabinet across the room.
In the fury of the moment, the leader leaped on top of the small table and bounded for the door. Not three steps into his sprint, he felt a tug on his shoulder as if the jaws of a wild animal had come clamping down on it. He let out a yell as the bear trap-like hand hurled him right back onto the table.
The man was trembling, awaiting death as the being stood over him. The small smile was gone, but his eyes were more drawn to that gaping neck wound. The lack of eye contact angered her. In one swift blur of motion, her sword hacked off the four fingers of his right hand, the blade stopping at the table.
The reaction was a blood-curdling yell, but a slight tap of her fist on his chest ended his ruckus. Mari was pondering whether to kill the bastard.
No, too easy, far too easy.
“Even with your losses, I know you have other factions in the area, other cities,” Mari said as she leaned close to his face, pressing the blade ever closer. His body stiffened despite his hyperventilating. “The Crusaders are coming, and we spare nobody. Especially those who butcher the innocent and string them up in trees.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you forgot, pardon me. Don’t worry, you’ll be remembering soon enough.”
Something caught her eye on the wrist of his right hand. It was a bracelet, dangling from it a crescent moon. Her gloved hand ripped it from his wrist, placing it within her armor. She placed her sword back into its sheath, now walking past the table. The man rolled off the wooden structure, letting himself hit the floor. Sergeant Mangham stepped into the room accompanied by police officers who scooped up the sobbing leader.
“We need to check that building thoroughly,” Mari said, pointing across from them. “That’s how I got this little number.”
Surprisingly, Mangham wasn’t staring at the hole in the cyborg’s neck.
“Lieutenant Carson was hit. He…” the soldier fumbled, “the medics are trying to save him as we speak.”
Mari felt her face go numb.
***
The cyborg pushed past the soldier, heading under the tent. The cots were lined up not too close to one another, maybe ten or so in all. She paced down them all, intent on finding him quickly. The cyborg spotted the sniper crew at the end of the row standing over someone. That had to be the one.
Her breathing steadied as she slowed her pace to a nearly abrupt halt. The soldiers standing with their backs to her turned around, teary-eyed. The rest of the younger members of the platoon were a distance away, watching in silence.
The veteran soldiers made room for Mari as she entered the circle. Her gaze lowered to the man on the cot, itself stained with blood. She saw the soggy attempt to patch up the wound, right in his neck. Her own blood had run cold, staring at his silent face and shut eyes. She felt her mouth move to speak, but there was nothing she could say. Go on, ask how. Ask why. She fought this off, fought to keep her eyes dry. Just then, Leroy nudged her arm. She collected herself as best as she could before facing him.
“Mari, he said to give you this.”
The soldier handed her something of decent weight, wrapped in Carson’s bandana. She closed her fingers around it tightly. Mari looked at her friend’s still form one last time before walking away from the circle, tears in her eyes. She strode past the rest of the platoon as well and few of them watched as she passed them. Davies did, however, watching as she sat down on the sidewalk a few blocks down.
The cyborg sat against a light pole, indifferent to the bodies all around her. What she wanted was solitude. The chatter of the others, the sound of spare shots finishing off the wounded enemies, she blotted it all out till she heard absolutely nothing.
She carefully unwrapped the object. Mari felt the almost painful gleam of the sun’s reflection at her eyes, but, more importantly, she couldn’t grasp the situation. It was a silver necklace and dangling from it was the Virgin Mary. Mari felt her eyes now fixated on the face: the stillness and depressed look it had.
Chapter 8 - An Invitation
October 9, 2065 – Chicago, Illinois
Alyssa walked past the table, turning the heat up. She ignored the plate of steaming pizza and walked over to her bedroom. She was due for a change of clothes at long last.
Out of her jeans and into pajama bottoms, and out of her t-shirt and into a tank top, she returned to her small dining room. Now to enjoy this day off in style. The young woman seated herself at the table again, finally settling to eat. As she took her first bite of pepperoni, a rush of cold brushed through her. Her frizzy brunette hair was thrown in her face, and she felt a tinge of anger.
As she stood up she saw the open window and the figure in front of it: a tall silhouette against the various city lights behind it, silent and staring. Alyssa felt a razor-edged tingle go down her spine. She saw its head turn to her left, and she followed its gaze. Of course, to her right on the counter was her charging cell phone. She went for it.
Though she’d been much closer than the intruder had, it was as if he had dominion over time and grabbed hold of her wrist. Before she could even scream, a hand was over her mouth. All she could do now was let out a muffled whimper. The figure’s shadowed face leaned in close. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus…
“Alyssa Viramontes?”
She struggled briefly, but the man’s grip was stronger. He put Alyssa’s arm behind her back. She felt tears in her eyes, though not of pain, but of terror. Her muffled whimpering continued.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I need to know if you’re who I’m looking for. I want to be absolutely sure.”
She gave in, knowing her resistance was pointless, and nodded. With that she was released. Alyssa was more than a little shaken, immediately placing her back against the counter. She was hyperventilating, and her instincts told her to reach for a knife but the man’s voice seemed so docile and tired. As the disturbed lamp swung back and forth over the kitchen she got a glimpse of him.
“I’m here about your father. I knew him and worked with him.”
“My father? But how did you even find me?”
She now saw, in the light, the familiar body armor, though this armor had been through hard times unimaginable. Despite that, it still looked form-fitting. Her eyes were also drawn to the red bandana across his forehead.
“Don’t worry, this will be my only visit. I wish to make amends,” he said, bowing his head slightly as he unstrapped one of the sheaths from his belt, leaving one other on his waist and another on his back.
He handed the sheath to her, and she slowly reached out and grabbed it. Alyssa held it with both her hands, admiring the weight of the object. Down the length of it was an inscription, reading S.S.C. Unit 18. She felt herself quiver, not just because the fact this sword was indeed her father’s, but what it meant about the unexpected giver. She looked back at him, but he was already walking toward the window.
“That means you’re the one. You did it.”
Unit 21 paused, knowing only a coward would flee now.
“Yes. I am.”
“Then the least you can do is tell me why!” she demanded tearfully.
Will trudged over to her, back into the light. The small woman in front of him was barely five foot tall, give or take an inch. It was hard to believe she was in her twenties. She had Luis’ eyes. Had and didn’t have, Will corrected himself. Her eyes were the same shade, but had the stillness his lacked, at least in his fleeting moments. He could never forget his eyes, so full of rabid malice.
“It had to do with sides. I was on one side, and he was on the other. To be quite honest, we both should have died but he let me live for a reason I still don’t fully grasp.”
“But you two were supposed to be on the same side. I don’t understand.”
“It’s ancient history, things that go so far back I’m not even sure they’re real at times…”
“Well, it’s still early in my book. By all accounts you owe me a debt, and in turn I guess I should tell you about my family; my mother and my father. Maybe I can help you understand why he did what he did.”
Will felt surprise and wondered what to do. He could decline and be on his way. Or even easily use the excuse he was on the run and he couldn’t stay in any one spot for too long. After all, it was the truth. Staring into those eyes, he could not leave though. All he could do was nod. She smiled weakly and seated herself at the table, back to her plate of pizza.
“I’m sorry for frightening you, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m not dead yet, so that’s a start. Now have a seat, please. Guests al
ways do.”
***
As dawn approached, Will placed a blanket on the dozing child. She was knocked out on the couch, a few beer cans on the coffee table and more on the floor. The soldier took the time to pick each one up and place them in her recyclables receptacle. On the telescreen, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert were trying to hitch a ride, but Will gave the P.E.C. the shutdown command. He’d done what he could to tidy up the place and there was no more time. He took one more glance at her before departing by use of the fire escape.
Sunlight was fast approaching, and he needed to get back to his temporary refuge. He wouldn’t be able to move as freely as he could at night. Will leaped to the other building parallel to the apartment, his fingers digging into the brick as if it were dirt. Scaling the side of the building like a gecko, he was soon on the rooftop. The tips of his gloves were scuffed, but he had long dismissed damages to his uniform. The city of Chicago had grown drastically over the years and for a second the cyborg marveled at the sea of enormous buildings around him.
He’d left out some of the grimier details, but he’d been truthful. Will would not have been able to live with himself if he had lied his way through the long exchange. For a brief instant, he wondered if she had truly listened with ears of sympathy. He told everything as far as his own losses. No time for contemplation. Now was the time to run. He took off, leaping from roof to roof, trying to outrun the sun.
***
Baltimore-Washington International Airport, Maryland
Kearney hadn’t felt someone hold onto him this tightly since Janet had delivered Venloran’s son into the world. However, his physical discomfort was not even a pinprick in contrast to the torment he suffered inward. The sobbing woman clung to him like an infant, and all he could do was hold her. The tinted windows assured that no passerby could see the woman in her weakness. Time was not as empathetic.