Weir Codex 1: The Cestus Concern

by Mat Nastos

  While they waited their turn to leave, Zuz did his best to fill Kristin in on what had happened—as much as he figured Mal would be okay with. He told her about finding Mal the day before and being on the run for most of the day. For her part, Kristin sat back and tried to take it all in.

  When the woman asked about her husband and what the real story behind him was, Zuz sputtered and rolled his window down, using the distraction of having to pay ten dollars for thirty minutes of parking as an excuse not to answer her question. The bald man decided that Mal would have to take care of that can of worms himself.

  When the lot attendant raised the tiny exit gate, revealing freedom beyond, Zuz began the turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard, wondering where Mal had gotten himself to and if the man was okay. Before he could complete the maneuver, the pair was startled by a downpour of glass and stone debris from overhead. They were even more surprised when Mal shot out into the empty air space above them, followed by the sound of enough automatic gunfire to make it sound like the 4th of July.

  “Mal!” shrieked Kristin in shock and worry as gravity reasserted itself on Mal’s body, dragging him down with enough force to crash through the top of a city bus unfortunate enough to be driving by at precisely the wrong time.

  Zuz started to comment that it was okay, Mal seemed to be jumping out of things a lot lately, but was cut off when a trio of the Project: Hardwired GMR units Kristin had been dining with a few minutes earlier jumped off the mall’s second level overhang in an attempt to pursue their target. None of the government agents had the power or velocity of Mal’s Olympic-beating leap with all three crashing to the road directly in front of Zuz’s escaping Nissan.

  Smiling to himself and in the mood for some payback, Zuz slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal, bowling throw all three men with a satisfying thud and shudder of his car.

  “Did you just run over those men?!”

  “Yeah,” grinned Zuz, pleased with himself. “It was pretty cool, huh?” Noticing the look of concern on Kristin’s face out of the corner of his eye, Zuz reassured her they weren’t normal ‘men’ and would survive the hit-and-run with his car—if anything. Heck, they probably did more damage to it than it did to them.

  But it sure did feel good was his only thought as the car zoomed away at high speed, disappearing quickly into the distance.

  *****

  Recovering from his less-than-stellar landing on—and then through—the ‘out of service’ Beverly Hills bound bus, Mal climbed to his feet, proud of himself. All of the GMRs were either dead or disabled, and their boss was too far away to harass the cyborg during his getaway. Yup, thought Mal, heading for the front of the bus to get off, things were finally going his way.

  That is until the elderly Hispanic bus driver yelled something about ‘oh, no, we’re going to die’ in his native tongue—Mal had gotten a ‘C-minus’ in Spanish back in high school, so he wasn’t positive about his translation—banged open the vehicle’s folding doors and hurled himself away from the bus. Although his mastery of the Spanish language was iffy at best, the driver’s action were universal in nature, causing Mal to rush forward to gaze out the bus’s large front window and see a fiery plume of super-heated exhaust gases illuminate Morrell, thirty feet above street-level, as the government operative fired a FIM-92 shoulder-mounted Stinger at him through a gap in Westwood Mall’s second floor security railing.

  Arms and legs pumping furiously, Mal had nearly reached the rear of the empty bus when the miniature missile crashed into its front, detonating on impact and sending flames rocketing back after him. He was followed through the rear window by huge tendrils of fire and smoke as he drove himself headfirst through it and out onto the black asphalt road behind. An instant later he was forced to pitch himself to the side in order to avoid being crushed as the force of the rocket-powered projectile exploding flipped the bus end-over-end to land upside down, collapsing under its own weight.

  Mal used the flames and subsequent second explosion from the bus’s gas tank to escape from the wreck unseen by his foe, contacting Zuz’s cellphone with the wireless connection provided by his internal computer system to arrange a meeting spot a few blocks away.

  Zuz and Kristin were already waiting when Mal arrived thirty seconds later and climbed into his usual spot on the passenger’s side. The car was in motion, zipping through traffic, before the cyborg could get the door closed. With everyone safe, Mal could tell Zuz wanted to get the hell out of dodge before anyone else jumped out to try and kill them…again.

  Mal leaned around his seat and smiled warmly at Kristin, trying to reassure her with a pat on her leg.

  “It’s all going to be okay, Kris. We’ll get you somewhere safe. They’re after me, not you or Zuz. You two can lie low until I get it all sorted out.”

  The car cut through the late afternoon traffic, aimless, just trying to get as far away from the government agency so desperate to capture Mal they’d risk shooting up a crowded public place like the restaurant and mall. Hundreds of civilians had seen the attack that time. It was insane.

  After a few minutes of driving, Zuz finally asked Mal where they were going.

  “Take Coldwater Canyon over Mulholland Drive. The hills should help throw off anything they might have to track us with. When we get over to the Valley side, I’ll see if my sensors can find any bugs or tracers they might have on any of us.” Looking back at Kristin, Mal said, “I’m sure that bastard Morrell must have planted something on you, Kris, just in case we got away.”

  The woman in the back seat nodded her head weakly. Mal and Zuz exchanged glances—they could tell it was quickly becoming too much for her. They needed to get her out of sight and protected, fast.

  As Zuz turned the Nissan onto the long, winding street lined by trees and houses built precariously up on steep hills, Mal told Kristin to get some rest. It would all be OK once she woke up.

  Kristin laid her head back, struggling to keep her tears from falling. She wasn’t sure if she should be furious with Mal or glad he was there, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t make sense of what had happened to Marc. What was he? Was their marriage even real?

  Her eyes closed as the woman ran the day’s events through her head, exhaling deeply in a sigh. She listened as the car sped over miles and through the mini mountain range that bordered Beverly Hills, heading towards the San Fernando Valley and the ‘somewhere safe’ Mal promised.

  Somewhere away from the husband who tried to kill her.

  “Oh, Marc,” she whispered, this time unable to hold back the tears.

  A buzzing almost soft enough to escape notice caught Kristin’s attention, sending the exhausted, confused woman rummaging through the handbag she’d kept clutched tightly in her grip during their escape.

  The shootout at the restaurant had to already be all over the news, she thought. It was probably just her mom or her best friend, Lynda, calling to make sure she was okay.

  Kristin’s call ID revealed a number she’d never seen before but something about it click somewhere in the back of her mind, causing her to push “answer” and hold the bright green phone up to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  The well cultured bass voice on the other end of the call spoke one word before breaking the connection. “Galatea.”

  The phone fell lifelessly from Kristin’s hand and the orbs of her eyes glazed over as she reached into the side pocket of the Kate Spade purse, extracting the dull black Smith & Wesson SW99 pistol hidden within. Silently, Mal’s ex-fiancée raised the weapon and fired pointblank into the driver’s side seat at an unsuspecting David Zuzelo, sending two .45 caliber rounds into the center of his back and a third at his head.

  CHAPTER 17

  The first two shots took everyone in the car by surprise, blasting gaping holes through the padding in the Nissan’s seat and taking Zuz square in his back. His left lung was collapsed by the first bullet and half of his right kidney burst with the second. Mal had recovered in th
e quarter second it took Kristin to readjust her aim to base of the bald man’s skull and was able to deflect the third out through the top of the car.

  The car’s horn bleated miserably, pressed solidly by Zuz’s head slamming down onto it as he blacked out from pain. Pandemonium reigned inside the vehicle, with Mal having to split his attention between fighting Kristin as the suddenly insane woman tried to unload the rest of her clip into Zuz, and trying to keep the still moving car from rolling over into oncoming traffic.

  “Kristin?! What did you do?” shouted Mal while Kristin fought against him like a trapped lioness, kicking and striking as if a tornado had been released in the backseat of the car. Her attacks were so vicious she was able to force the car off the side of the road, causing it to hop the curb onto the sidewalk, and run headfirst into a light pole. The car spun uncontrollable for a minute, sideswiping a number of parked vehicles before coming to a complete stop just inside the parking lot for a large pharmacy and grocery store.

  At the last instant before impact, Mal tossed his body across Zuz’s, protecting the man as much as possible from additional blunt force trauma. The choice caused the cyborg to lose hold of his ex-fiancée, who used the commotion to make her move. Before he could stop her, Kristin dove out of the backseat and avoided Mal’s attempt at subdual. Three steps later, she spun on her heel, firing three more rounds into the nearly junked car, blowing out the tires on its passenger’s side.

  “Zuz, I’ve got to get you out of here,” said Mal, worried about the vast amounts of blood oozing from his friend’s midsection. Faster than the blink of an eye, Mal kicked open the bashed in, unresponsive door at his side, slid over the hood of the car and pulled Zuz from the vehicle, cradling the man in his arms. “Hang on, Zuz…I’ll get you to a hospital.”

  Mal’s eyes darted around the area, taking in every piece of information he could, trying to figure out how to save the dying man’s life. A bullet shattered what had to be the Cube’s last remaining piece of unbroken glass, forcing Mal to keep is head down. Nearby, the sound of the automatic doors of a large local pharmacy opening and closing caught Mal’s attention. Immediately, the man was in motion, with Zuz held tight against his body, heading across the large open parking lot and into the awaiting air-conditioning of the store.

  Five bullets chased his mad dash across the charcoal-colored asphalt, gouging chunks out of its surface in a tight line behind the fleeing super-soldier.

  “Unit Galatea reporting,” said Kristin into her phone as she ejected the spent magazine from her pistol and replaced it with a loaded one. “Target David Anthony Zuzelo has been injured and his vehicle incapacitated. Designate Cestus is attempting to flee the scene on foot. Back-up required near the corner of Van Nuys Boulevard and Cedros Avenue in Sherman Oaks.”

  “Confirmed, Unit Galatea. Designate Gauss in route. Keep eyes on target and standby for backup to arrive,” responded an emotionless female voice over the cellphone’s speaker.

  “Affirmative.”

  Sprinting across the parking lot, high heels flying off in her wake, Kristin headed for the threshold of the shop only to be blocked by a mob of people, terrified and screaming, rushing out directly into her path and slowing her down.

  Mal’s own entry into the large, brightly lit emporium had been as loud and violent as he could make it, in hopes of using the turmoil to get some time to stop Zuz’s bleeding. He scoured the wide, quickly emptying aisles, looking for bandages. Mal knew the only chance Zuz had was at a hospital, but he also realized there was little hope the man would make it to an emergency room without a field dressing to staunch the flow of blood from his wounds.

  The urgency of the search was reinforced by a series of gunshots from the front of the building announcing Kristin’s arrival, and continued general mind-controlled attitude, inside the commercial establishment. The screams and commotion had gone quiet, with only the store’s security alarms blaring filling the otherwise vacated building.

  The quest for gauze and sterile pads led Mal on a mad rampage up and down what seemed like countless aisles containing foodstuffs, make-up, office supplies, and a million other things that were of no use to Mal. A trail of Zuz’s life’s blood spread out in a crimson river as they went.

  Near the east corner of the store, next to the pharmacist’s window, the cyborg found what he was looking for, stacked neatly on a half-sized block of shelving-units. Mal made quick work of tearing through a box of gauze and surgical tape, going to work on stemming the tide of gore leaking freely from Zuz, all the while keeping an ear open for the ever approaching footfalls of his pursuer.

  Before he could complete his work, a cold sweat broke out on Mal, rolling down the back of his neck and following the curve of his spine, as Kristin’s voice, monotone and emotionless, rang out, reverberating throughout the store and filling the cyborg with heartbreak.

  “Designate Cestus,” called the voice, sounding more like an unfeeling recording than the woman Mal had loved so dearly. “You are hereby ordered to power-down and await the Project: Hardwired sanctioned retrieval team.”

  Licking his lips, Mal finished his makeshift battle dress and darted down a back hall heading for the loading dock, trying to get as far away from the cruel voice as much as from the mind-controlled woman hunting him.

  The voice followed him.

  “Failure to submit will result in immediate termination for you and Citizen Zuzelo.”

  A living metal arm punched through a wall-mounted fuse box, showering the cyborg in a torrent of sparks and killing all power within the drugstore. Aware of Zuz’s rapidly degenerating condition due to constant updates on the man’s blood pressure and heart rate from his cybernetic senses, Mal stopped with his hand inches from the back door and freedom. He had to save his friend—the man who had saved his life more than once since he escaped from the lab—but what about Kristin? She needed him, too.

  He wouldn’t just leave her. If he could incapacitate her, they could put her somewhere safe while Zuz got medical attention, and Mal could figure out how to break whatever conditioning she’d been put through. Pushing open the door to a darkened back room lined with broken-down boxes stacked chest high in some places, Mal made up his mind, deposing the unconscious body of his friend, blood already seeping through the make-shift bandages wrapped tightly about his abdomen and chest.

  A minute, he thought. Maybe less. That was how much time he had to take Kristin down and get the three of them back on the road and to a hospital. Any longer and Zuz was as good as dead—there’s no way he could hang on beyond that.

  “If Hardwired took control of Kristin, her files should be in my head somewhere,” thought Mal as he stalked out of the near total darkness of the ‘employee’s only’ area of the shop. Kristin was trying her best to operate in stealth mode but she was still human and no competition for Mal’s cybernetically-enhanced senses. As Mal turned from hunted to hunter, he ordered his computer to pull up all information on his ex-fiancée. He wanted every bit of information Project: Hardwired had on her.

  “Records for Kristin Julia Meyer, now Meyer-Morrell, located. Access denied,” responded the computer embedded into Mal’s cerebellum.

  “‘Access denied?’” came Mal’s nonplussed reaction. “How the can files in my head be ‘access denied?’”

  “Records sealed by Project: Hardwired Director, Gordon Kiesling. Executive order Alpha-nine-one-seven-two-beta-five.”

  “‘Sealed?!’ What kind of super computer are you? Can’t you just open the damn things—hack them or whatever it is you and Zuz do?”

  “Negative. Encryption encoded with a 512bit key. Only Project: Hardwired Director, Gordon Kiesling, possesses the key.”

  Mal shook his head, annoyed, and ducked down to remain out of Kristin’s line of sight as she hunted the darkened store for any sign of him.

  “So, I’ll have to make him give me the key,” thought the cyborg grimly, edging his way closer to the woman, deadly silent.

  M
al’s internal systems chose that rather inopportune moment to deliver news that brought the amount of crap the cyborg was in to a whole new level.

  “Four Apache AH-64D helicopters inbound to present location, heading north-northwest at approximately one-hundred sixty-five miles per hour. ETA thirty seconds.”

  There was no way he could take Kristin down and still get away safely with Zuz before the cavalry arrived. Mal swore to himself, more loudly than he had intended. A pair of bullets struck uncomfortably close to where he knelt in the shadows. The cyborg was forced to tear through an eight-foot high steel shelving unit filled with assorted bread products, all labeled as ‘fresh baked,’ to avoid taking three more bullets to his chest from Kristin who barreled around the corner gun blazing in response to his poorly-timed exclamation.

  Turning to see where his ex-lover had gone, Mal took a thrust kick to his stomach, toppling him over amongst the damaged baked goods. He barely recovered in time to avoid another series of shots to the flesh portions of his body, swinging his living metal arm up to deflect the bullets. A quick leg sweep sent Kristin flopping on to her back, but the woman was able to hold on to her gun and fired again, nearly taking Mal in the temple.

  The two squared off, Mal dropping into a low defensive stance to protect himself, with Kristin thrusting her gun nearly into his face.

  They were at a stand-off that ended as quickly as it began.

  Mal cursed again as the sound of approaching helicopters was now audible to his human senses. They were close—too close—and the cyborg knew his time was up. He had to do something fast or they’d all be captured and Zuz would die.

  Evading a pair of shots that emptied Kristin’s clip of rounds, Mal flipped himself over the woman, knocking the gun out of her hand along the way, and landing on his feet in a full run. Lurching around the corner, Mal stared down a row of frozen goods, smiling as he trotted to the opposite end and waited.