by LC Champlin
“Do you mean you?” The comment lashed from the rear of the crowd. A short Asian woman, her graying hair pulled back in a braid, pushed to the fore. She wore simple but professional attire, as if she planned to attend a social mixer after the memorial.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wong.” Don’t let her goad you.
“Are you denying you shot her, and that you doomed Eduardo to become one of the affected?” Her eyes sparked with hatred as she pulled to her full height of five feet.
“Red Chief killed Carolyn.” Calm, steady voice despite the outrage that struggled for release.
“You shot her first!” Wong pointed a rigid finger at him. “He only finished it.”
“My pistol discharged when Eduardo’s partner Loto tried to attack me.” Careful wording indeed.
“Loto was protecting Carolyn from your gun!”
Fools, Wong and Loto both! “Did you fail to notice Eduardo holding a knife to Carolyn’s throat? As for Loto, he would have injured Amanda if I hadn’t subdued him.”
“He’s right,” Amanda asserted, moving between Wong and Nathan. “When I attempted to pull Loto away, he tried to hit me.”
“Hah!” Lip curling, the malcontent crossed her arms. “You are this man’s little servant now, aren’t you.”
Nathan put a hand on Amanda’s shoulder before she could close the distance to Mrs. Wong. He pulled her back. “When you insult Amanda, you are also insulting Carolyn, because Amanda was her second-in-command. Amanda and Jeremy”—and that traitor Bridges—“helped stop the Goats. As for Eduardo, he and his group couldn’t even deal with a few cannibals.” Thankfully, the cannibals had quelled Eduardo’s rebellion against Carolyn and Nathan.
“Eduardo wanted us to be free.” Wong looked about at the people, who shifted in discomfort. No one enjoyed a fist fight at a funeral. “But you”—pointing at Nathan—“were in league with the devils from the start.” She and Eduardo shared the cynical—and accurate—mindset.
“If I wanted to take over,” Nathan responded, tone level, “I would have gotten rid of you, Eduardo’s second-in-command, wouldn’t I?”
“Prideful—”
“Tell me, how much say did you have in Eduardo’s decisions? Or perhaps you didn’t have a say.” He looked down at her, head cocked in suspicion. “Maybe that was your plan all along: have Eduardo killed so you could take over.”
“You almost killed my Loto, my son-in-law!” She stepped forward to glare up at Nathan. “Now the government has him.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd at the mention of familial ties.
“Your son-in-law? No wonder you’re taking his side against all reason.” Folding his arms, Nathan nodded at the revelation. “If Eduardo died, Loto would take over.”
“Not true!”
Camera up, Josephine moved to the front of the crowd.
Amanda stepped out and to the right, flanking Wong. “I won’t allow you to cause any more trouble here. Because of Eduardo, the other half of the neighborhood was almost destroyed by the affected.” She looked around the residents for support, and received anxious glances. “It was Eduardo who led them to that. If Mrs. Wong is anything like Eduardo, I want no part of her leadership.”
“I don’t want to lead; I only want you people not to,” Wong retorted. “You will destroy us, mark my words.”
A few audience members stepped forward but stopped just short of laying hands on her.
Nathan regarded her. “Let’s return to our memorial for Carolyn before we make a complete mockery of it.”
No move from Wong. “You are only using her memory. You are nothing but a parasite.” She spat the last word.
“Don’t mistake me for Eduardo or your son-in-law.”
As Nathan took a breath to dismiss her, she sprang at him. Pain knocked the air from him as she collided with his body. She tried to shove her hips in to throw him off balance, but he dropped his center of gravity and turned in front of her, putting distance between them.
His left hand caught the back of her skull, while his right cupped her chin. Lifting her chin, he stepped back and spun her. Body followed head.
She grabbed at him, but her heel caught on the edge of the dock. Over she plunged, landing with a splash in the brine.
With a growl at the delayed kick of pain, he put a hand to his flank.
Sputtering, shaking water from her eyes, she paddled to the sea wall. “You’ll regret that, leech. And you people will regret following him.” A path opened in the center of the group for her as she stormed from the yard.
No need to avert a crisis when he could use it. Wong’s outburst had allowed him to make points that would stick in the minds of the residents. To Amanda’s credit, she had seized the opportunity to not only reassure the populace, but also to strengthen the current leadership.
“I think I speak for all of us,” he began, his voice carrying, “when I say I’m sorry for everything that happened. But Carolyn wouldn’t want us to be fighting one another. I won’t abandon Redwood Shores, and neither will Amanda. You all have family and friends here. I count you as my friends as well.” With a nod of thanks, he returned to his place in the spectator section, beside Josephine.
Clearing her throat, Amanda looked over her shoulder at the ocean. “I don’t know where Carolyn’s body is, but I know her soul smiles on us when we work together. Now, who else has a memory or a good thought they’d like to share about her?”
While the mood eased back to a funerary tone, images of Carolyn’s death played in the theater of Nathan’s mind. His jaw clenched.
Then golden eyes opened in the darkness of his thoughts, dissolving the footage of the previous leader. Evolve, attack, dominate. The howl in his ears drowned out Carolyn’s eulogy.
Chapter 15
Fumus Boni Iuris
Keep Your Head - Ben Howard
Albin stood before a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window in one of the unused domestic terminals. Outside, the city smoked like the remains of a bonfire on All Saints Day. He, Mr. Serebus, and the others had escaped the deathtrap, but countless others had not.
Albin dropped to one knee to drape an arm around Judge’s neck. She ignored him, watching the people outside.
He followed her gaze. “I know. We’ve both lost people we cared about. At least yours died in the line of duty. What are we going to do, girl?” He rested his temple against her muscular shoulder.
Ears erect, she looked behind her.
“Quite a sight out there, isn’t it?”
Albin pushed to his feet and turned to face Lieutenant Colonel Wozniak, who stood with his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the city. Despite the disorder about him, he maintained an aura of calm that attracted respect. The fact that he had saved Mr. Serebus’s life and possibly Jeremy Nelson’s only added to the relief that filled Albin upon the man’s arrival.
“It is a sight I never hoped to witness, sir.”
“You and me both. I’ve been to the Middle East, the Far East, and the Northeast. I have never seen anything as hellish as this.” Lips pursed, he clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing we can do for those creatures. They’re not acting of their own volition, I’m sure, which makes it harder to shoot them, but you gotta do what you gotta do. You can’t help them.”
Reaching into the satchel that hung over his shoulder, Albin withdrew a liter bottle of Mountain Dew. He proffered it to Jim.
With a laugh, the officer accepted it. “Thanks. These are hard to come by. How did you manage to get your hands on it?” The soda hissed as he cracked the seal.
Half smiling, Albin shrugged. “Bribe, barter, and steal, as they say.”
“I thought it was beg, barter, and steal.”
“I do not beg.”
“No, you don’t. And neither does your friend Nathan.”
A moment of silence as somber as that at a graveside passed. Then Albin sighed, turning to face the window. He could talk
more freely if he did not meet the officer’s penetrating gaze. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
“Sure. So, tell me what happened with Nathan.”
Albin inhaled, marshalling his thoughts. “He tried to murder a semi-rival to take over his residence under the auspices of protecting us. In Redwood Shores, he used cannibals to quell civil unrest. He may also have assassinated a woman to facilitate his leadership of the community, but that is questionable. He is sacrificing everything for the sake of files that the mercenaries and terrorists desire.” He paused, head down. “He is taking over Redwood Shores for his own gain. He will use them and throw them away, just as he used me.”
“He used you?”
“He relied on me to clean up after his irresponsible acts. It was necessary for me to destroy a cannibal who was once a young boy’s mother. Then I was forced to explain to the child that his mother would not be returning.
“Mr. Serebus instructed me to direct the police so as to allow the mercenaries an escape. Yet he did not tell me this was his motive at the time, because he knew I would object. He then excluded me from a meeting with the DHS because he knew I would advocate for the residents evacuating, while he wished for them to shelter in place.”
“Did he offer any kind of explanation? This all seems a little off the deep end.”
“He maintained that it was what needed to be done, and I should accept it. He was remorseless.”
“What happened then?”
“I came here.”
“So, you just walked away? After all that? You guys faced down terrorists and risked your lives for each other, right?”
Fireworks of pain burst behind Albin’s eyes, sparking into his temples and frontal lobe. With a grunt, he reached up and massaged the troubled areas. “I . . . I shot him, Jim. I shot him in the chest. He was wearing a bullet-resistant vest; I was not aiming to kill or even injure. I had attempted to reason with him. I wanted him to see the truth. He was risking the people’s lives by encouraging them to stay in Redwood Shores. He only wants them to facilitate research on the files, which he believes will give him control of the cannibals.”
“Will it?”
“I do not know. He activated a frequency broadcast that he believed would control them, but it failed.”
“I see. Let’s back up, though. You shot him? Did he go for a weapon first?”
Silent, Albin focused on the seal between glass and steel.
“I’ll take that as a no. What did you say to him in the end?”
“He has a delusion about wolves. He believes that as a teenager, he was hunted by the legendary amarok, the giant wolf spirit that stalks lone hunters in the Arctic night. He thought the wolves spared him but took the life of his mother as a trade or sacrifice. It was this guilt that caused him to attempt suicide at the age of sixteen. It was mere days ago that he came to terms with this belief. Unfortunately, he decided the spirits of the wolves hunt with him. He made them his totem.”
“Not the most stable person mentally, huh.”
“Under normal circumstances, it is not only a pleasure to work with him, but also an honor. He is among the most capable leaders I have ever met.”
“I got that impression—that he’s used to being in charge, and is pretty good at it, too. But you were talking about what happened before you shot him.”
“I enquired if he still considered himself the alpha wolf. When he responded that he did, I said that I was not a fellow wolf, I was a hunter.”
“What did you mean by that?”
“I . . . I am not entirely certain.” The truth flowed, Jim’s calm drawing it like blood from a wound. “Director Washington of the DHS tasked me with gathering evidence against Mr. Serebus.”
“And are you?”
Albin placed his palms on the window. He let his head hang between his arms. “Jim, my position at Arete Technologies was as his adviser more than as his attorney. But now he will not listen to me. If I do not stop him now, he will grow to be a tyrant who will destroy the people he rules.”
A large hand settled on his shoulder. “Even if you’re not his adviser, you’re still his friend. Now you gotta decide what a friend would do. Nathan’s been through a lot, and so have you. Neither of you are the men you were a few days ago. He has his demons to battle, whether they’re wolves or delusions of grandeur. You have your struggles too.
“One thing I’ve learned during my time in war is that men don’t fight for a country or creed. They don’t even fight for their family at home. They fight for the guy beside them. Your buddy on the battlefield is the only thing between you and death.”
“One cannot help someone who does not wish to be helped.”
“True enough.” Jim sipped his Mountain Dew before resuming, “But sometimes people need to be convinced they need help. Sometimes that help isn’t what they believe it is.”
“Meaning I should not hand him over to the authorities?” Pushing from the glass, Albin regarded the man. “Do you suggest I attempt to reason with him again?”
A shrug answered. “Just because I had my hand in Nathan’s chest doesn’t mean I have an intimate understanding of this heart.” Jim grinned, which drew a smile from Albin. “Just remember the Golden Rule. Do unto others.”
“Before they do unto me?” The attorney’s smile remained.
“It all depends on the situation.”
“Thank you again, Jim. It is helpful to speak with someone who is objective. My companions have taken sides.”
After taking a long pull on his soda, Jim gave him a thoughtful look. “If what you say about the files is true, we might all have to take sides soon. The government might find a way to use them, or they might not.” He shrugged again. “Never underestimate the power of a determined warrior, and Nathan is definitely that.”
No reply presented itself, so Albin merely nodded, returning his attention to the activity outside.
“Well, break’s over. If you need me, you know where I am. By the way, your friend should be getting out of the infirmary later today.” After giving Albin a light backfist to the shoulder, he sauntered down the hallway. “Don’t hesitate to call.”
“I shan’t.”
An employee-access door in the hall opened to reveal Kuznetsov. He gave the surgeon a nod as he passed, then hurried up to Albin.
“What is it?”
“It’s Badal. I-I can’t find him.”
“San Francisco International Airport is rather large. A man can find privacy if he so chooses. Either he will return, or—”
“I think he’s gone to find Mr. Serebus.” The blood rushed to Kuznetsov’s face, making him appear feverish. “He’ll never make it on his own, though. We have to do something.”
All emotions seeped from Albin, numbness as if from Novocaine replacing them. “His life is not in my hands.”
“Perhaps not, but if you don’t do anything, his blood will be on your hands.”
Chapter 16
Grand Theft Auto
Trouble - Imagine Dragons
“It is Mr. Shukla’s decision if he wishes to leave,” Albin snapped as he stalked down the concourse. “It is ridiculous to say we are his keepers. He gave no indication of his destination?”
“I left for a time. When I returned, he was gone. Mr. Bridges didn’t know either.”
“That is hardly surprising, given his state.”
“I searched our terminal and the next two. I asked some of the guards, and they said they didn’t remember seeing him. But there are so many people . . .”
They headed in the direction of the airport security entrance. If Shukla ventured outside the terminals, he would pass through the main doors. With the shuttle train disabled due to the failed electrical grid, the airport grew smaller: they could not reach the international terminal or long-term parking without passing through restricted areas.
“Do you really think he’s going to Redwood Shor
es?” Kuznetsov’s shoulders hunched as if against winter’s cold.
A thought dawned. “Does he have keys to our vehicle?”
“I don’t know.” The import of the question widened the engineer’s eyes. “Would he take the truck and leave us?”
“I fail to see why not. He is singularly selfish when pursuing a goal.”
“That’s why we can’t let him—”
“I know, Mr. Kuznetsov. Let me think in silence.” In truth, the situation required little thought or discussion.
They exited the security area, proceeding toward the front doors. Soon the wall of glass loomed before them, shining in the afternoon sun. Yellow caution tape blocked off most of the exits, while guards paced before the few doors that functioned.
“Excuse me, sir,” Albin addressed the nearest uniformed authority, “did a disgruntled Indian pass this way?”
“He went outside.” The DHS officer twitched his elbow toward the drop off zone, not sparing a hand from his rifle.
“Thank you.” As Albin moved toward the door, the guard stepped in front of him. “You are aware that if you go beyond the secured zone, you can’t re-enter the perimeter without clearance?”
“I will address Director Washington of the DHS if the situation arises.”
“I . . .” The guard looked uncertain. “It’ll take time for her or one of the commanders to give you clearance.”
“Of course.”
Outside, Albin broke into a trot, moving toward the Toyota Tacoma. He had left it in the rear car park in deference to the government personnel and service autos that filled the closer parking slots.
“There he is!” Also jogging, Kuznetsov pointed ahead to a dark figure of middle height. Shukla wore a black T-shirt and jeans as if he planned to attend a casual funeral. If he continued, he would soon attend his own.
