The Face of a Rogue

by L T Anderson

  Silver pressed herself back into her chair. “What security?”

  Levi sat back down. “You are…” He looked around the conference table. “…or were, head of security, correct?”

  Silver’s eyes narrowed. “Up until now, I thought I still held that position. Why, Levi? Why would you take that away from me?”

  Levi stood again and surveyed his top leaders and commanders. “Ladies and gentlemen. I have made an executive decision with regard to security. We recently experienced the worst breach in the history of our organization. I’m sure you all remember the defector, Krystal Peterson—”

  “Ha!” Silver mock-laughed. “That wasn’t my doing. I suspect Dr. Yaz had a hand in that.”

  Levi turned to Silver, expressionless. He blinked slowly once before turning back to his commanders. “As I was saying, Peterson escaped the Underground right under our noses. This would not have happened under a competent security chief.”

  “Dr. Yaz is your inner circle, Levi,” Silver said. “Your accusations are misplaced.”

  “I am addressing the Dr. Yaz angle with our new head of security.”

  Silver raised an eyebrow. “Who’s your new security chief? And where’s Yaz now?”

  “This is not question-and-answer time, Long. But for the sake of those present, I will say that we have a lock on Dr. Felix Yaz’s position as we speak. Of course, he is still in the Underground, and security personnel are en route to apprehend him for questioning.”

  Silver persisted. “Who’s the new security chief?”

  “I can assure you, you will not approve of her—”

  “Her? Oh that’s rich. Has to be a woman, right, Levi? You couldn’t handle things without a strong woman to hold you up.”

  Levi’s ire rose. “Enough!”

  Silver surveyed the Changers at the table. “You know I wear the pants around here, Levi. You’ve never made a move without consulting me first. It’s time everyone knows how weak you really are.”

  “Weak?”

  “Sure. This has nothing to do with any security breach. This has everything to do with your pride. Your ego has been damaged by Krystal Peterson. You can’t get over the fact you were outdone by a woman.”

  “Let’s be honest, Long,” Levi said. “It was a woman—you—that allowed Peterson to escape the Underground. So you yourself were outdone by that same woman.”

  “She couldn’t have done it without Felix. I feel it in my bones. I may have been outsmarted, but it wasn’t by Peterson. I’ll give the nod to Yaz.”

  Levi smiled. “However you choose to look at it, my dear. Peterson got over on you.”

  “But she never completed the simplest of assignments,” Silver said. “She never absorbed a high-ranking Punk.”

  “As if we need that now,” Levi said. “My Chybrid project damaged the Punks adequately. Need I say more?”

  “Sir.” Marvellus raised his hand. “Long has a point. Peterson failed her assignment. However, would it not be beneficial had she completed the task? As crippled as the Punks are, surely the loss of a high-ranking official within their organization would reap great benefits to us now.”

  Silver leaned forward. “I could have completed that assignment with one hand tied behind my back—”

  “But you couldn’t complete your own assignments or fulfill the obligations of your position as head of security,” Levi said.

  “At least I remained loyal. You had a defector in your inner circle. Dr. Yaz is your man.”

  Levi shook his head slowly. “Look around the table, Long. Who else is missing from here?”

  Ivan raised a hand.

  “Never mind,” Levi snapped. “I’ll tell you. Garrison and Dennis. Those two Rogues were under your authority in lockup.” He pointed at Silver. “They were your responsibility.”

  Silver swallowed. “I blame Dr. Yaz for that as well.”

  “Always deflecting, Long. A good leader accepts responsibility and takes action.”

  “Then you accept responsibility for Peterson, as well as Garrison and Dennis?” Silver asked.

  “I do. And I am taking the necessary actions to correct the problem. That’s why you’re out as security chief. And nobody cares.” He pressed a button on the table’s surface. “Lift the high-security alert.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Silver stared at Levi. “I don’t need to prove anything to you or to myself. I know how good I am. And I am loyal to the Changers’ organization and to our cause. You’ll regret all of this.”

  Chapter 5

  Outsider In

  Behind the Perimeter Wall, inside the Depot at Checkpoint One, Ryker studied a flat-screen monitor. “Hey, Dion. She’s at the walk-through.”

  Dion stepped across the room and stood next to his best friend. “That’s her, all right. Do we have audio?”

  Ryker pressed a touch pad to power up the voice-activated communication system at the main gate.

  “Krystal?” Dion said.

  “Long time, no see, Dion.” Krystal’s voice was crisp, clear and strong.

  Dion looked at Ryker and shrugged. He mouthed, Now what? The two Punks stared at Krystal’s image on the monitor.

  Krystal surveyed the exterior of the imposing thirty-foot-high structure. Dried mud mixed with blood accentuated the heavy gouges left by Chybrids in the wall’s surface. The marks and scratches extended to the top of the wall. Damn, she thought. Almost made it over. She glanced at the intercom by the walk-through. “Well?”

  “Krys, it’s Ryk. Stand by a sec.”

  Krystal swung the two rifles off her shoulders and leaned them butt-down against the wall. She turned around and faced the combat zone. A cold gust of wind rushed between her back and the wall. What a loss, she thought as she fastened the two middle buttons on her duster. She scanned the terrain, the hunks of metal and debris, the bodies. Wind against numerous communications antennae atop the destroyed vehicles whispered a disconcerting tune. Even sounds like death, she thought. Her ears prickled at a faint sound—distinct from the wind noise. She turned her head ever so slightly, her left ear to the battlefield.

  Slluurrpp. The sound was weak, vague and distant. Slluurrpp. But there it was again.

  Krystal held a hand to her ear to determine the direction of the sound. “Hey,” she shouted.

  “Help,” a voice whispered.

  Krystal turned toward the voice. Or was it only the wind? She squinted and panned the area. Her eyes locked on a swollen mound of mud about fifty yards from the wall. The blob seemed foreign against the flattened ground around it. But the blob moved.

  “Hey,” Krystal shouted again, her eyes on the blob.

  The intercom speaker by the gate popped. “Hang on, Krys.” It was Ryker again.

  Krystal ignored Ryker and ran toward the voice on the battlefield. Her steps were deliberate and firm as she pivoted between the seemingly endless debris over the muddy ground. She used a free hand to assist the occasional vault across oversized wreckage as she made her way to the location of the voice. A few feet from the mud mound, she slowed her approach. “Holy shit,” she said. “You’re alive.”

  The atmosphere inside the Depot had devolved from exhilaration to pandemonium. With the highest-ranked Punks, two Rogue Changers and a number of agitated, low-grade loyalists present, the debate raged about how to handle the arrival of Krystal Peterson. Punks from the compound outside forced the door open and crowded in.

  Dion stood with his back to the communications console facing the door. He grabbed a wad of sleeve on Margot’s leather jacket. “Go out there and get a handle on the troops. This has gone beyond crazy.”

  “You got it, boss,” the level three commander said as she pushed her way between bodies.

  “And lock that door behind you,” he shouted.

  Unconsciously, the crowd had loosely segregated itself into four groups. The smallest faction was in favor of Krystal’s current sentence—allow h
er to live, but only outside the Perimeter. Two groups were equally divided between those in favor of allowing her back into the Punks’ organization and those advocating an immediate death sentence. The largest group consisted of the undecideds.

  Dion looked at Ryker. “Shut down the monitors.”

  The array of flat-screens across the wall above the communications console displayed real-time video from outside the Wall. Ryker took one last glance at Krystal kneeling in the distance and tapped the power button on the video control panel. As the monitors flashed black, the crowd in the Depot erupted.

  “No!” came a voice from the back of the room. “She’s scavenging parts!”

  “We can’t let her go,” another said.

  “She could be setting traps for us.”

  “We need to keep an eye on her. We can’t trust her!”

  “Let’s bring her back so we can put an end to this!”

  Pops made his way to the side door leading to the Hangar. “If she’s coming in now, we can let her in through the Tunnel. It’d take a while to move all those trucks away from the main gate.”

  Raymond stepped between Pops and the door. “Hold on a sec,” he challenged. He placed a hand on Pops’s shoulder and looked at Dion. “We’re not teaming up with Peterson, are we?”

  Pops took a long look at Raymond’s hand on his shoulder, then stared him in the eye. His posture stiffened.

  Raymond held firm. “Dion?”

  Dion had a hand in the air for thirty seconds before the din began to decline. The Punk leader glared at Raymond. “Everybody listen up. I hear you. You all know this isn’t the way we do things.”

  “But—” Raymond protested.

  “Back down, Ray,” Dion said.

  Krystal held the injured Punk behind his head and wiped the mud from his face. “I don’t know you,” she whispered.

  His eyes were slits, his face swollen and red. “I…I…”

  “Don’t try to talk right now.” The mud was cold on Krystal’s knees. She felt the man’s forehead. You’re freezing, she thought as she glanced to her left at the remains of a nearby BearCat. “I’ll be right back,” she said, laying his head gently onto the cold mud.

  She jumped up and hurried to the vehicle. Its doors had been completely detached from the body. The tires were gone. The truck was tilted to the right, half its body buried in the muck. She hurried around to the back and hopped inside. Yes, she thought, grabbing a titanium canteen from the floor of the vehicle. She snatched a large first aid kit off a side shelf before backing out.

  Krystal rushed back to the prone Punk and lifted his head again. She trickled the water from the canteen over his eyes before holding it to his mouth. “Try to drink.” Most of the refreshing liquid drained out of the Punk’s mouth, washing away the mud and gunk from his cheeks. But he drank.

  “Where are you injured?” Krystal asked.

  “My…legs. I was pinned…under my truck…” His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes.

  Krystal opened the first aid kit and unwrapped a temporary thermal blanket. She spread the blanket over the Punk and tucked the sides down into the mud. “Now hang in there. I’ll be back.”

  Ryker refused to allow the tension in the room to seep into his psyche. “Look,” he said to the crowd. “You’ve all trusted us in the past to lead you. We make decisions based on all the information we have. Sometimes we miss, but we always put the safety and survival of all of you first. This can’t be a free-for-all. So trust us now.”

  Dion stood next to Ryker, arms folded across his chest. “He’s right. Now, I want everyone who’s undecided on what to do about Krystal to raise your hands.”

  The undecideds raised their hands.

  “Winter, Jimbo.” Dion nodded to his two top commanders. “Escort these people outside to the compound. All of you, report to Margot when you get outside. She’ll have your assignments.”

  Shadows on the battlefield disappeared as the morning wind shoved the clouds back over Checkpoint One. Misty silver and blue highlights from the rising sun changed to a soggy gray, and the carnage blended back into the muck. Krystal re-shouldered her rifles and pounded a fist on the intercom button at the walk-through gate.

  “Ryker!” She turned to eye the fallen Punk in the distance as she pounded the button again. “Ryk! You got people out here!”

  “Stand by, Krys. Pops is gonna open the tunnel hatch. Head east about fifty yards and stay near the wall. You won’t miss him.”

  Krystal looked east and spotted the hatch, already open. She trotted toward the opening, her gait smooth and firm across the slippery terrain.

  Pops stood on the thick concrete shelf inside the tunnel opening, his arm in the air. “Come on in, girl.”

  Krystal descended the small ladder to the shelf and hopped onto the tunnel floor.

  When Pops closed the hatch behind her, he couldn’t help smiling. He hustled down the ladder and turned to face Krystal. “I gotta say I’m happy to see you, Krys.”

  “Last time I was allowed here, there was only one person glad to see me.”

  Pops glanced toward Checkpoint One. “There’s more than that now. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  Krystal followed the old Punk through the four-person-wide corridor. “You guys have at least one person out there on the hill, still alive. There could be more.”

  Pops stopped to wait for Krystal. “Damn, Krys.” He studied her face for the first time since he’d participated in her expulsion from the Punks’ organization.

  Krystal gazed at the senior Punk. He looked older than she remembered. He needed a shave, and his clothes looked like he’d slept in them for a week. Eyes are weak, Pops, she thought. You look tired.

  “You know,” he began. “I’ve always regretted not going to bat for you that night.”

  “The past is passed, Pops. I’m not the same person I was that night. I suspect none of us are.”

  “Me and Geezer always loved you. You have to know that. We—”

  Krystal waved her hand. “That’s enough. I know who’s on my side, and I know why. Right now, you have a man down out there. He’s going to die of exposure if we don’t get him out of that field.”

  Pops turned. “C’mon, walk beside me, Krys.”

  The two locked eyes.

  “It’ll make me feel better,” he said.

  Krystal’s heart softened ever so slightly. “Let’s go.”

  The pair walked swiftly toward Checkpoint One.

  “I gotta tell you, girl. There’s still some of ’em want you dead.”

  “Yeah, well, they’ll just have to get over it.”

  Pops smiled to himself. “You know we got a couple of your old friends at Checkpoint One?”

  “I didn’t know. What old friends would that be?”

  “Some Changers. Names are Fred Garrison and Thomas Dennis.”

  Krystal raised an eyebrow, suppressing her genuine surprise. “Been a long time. They’d be about the only friends I think I’d be able to count on today. So how’d they end up with you guys?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a long story. But I can tell you they came willingly. Had a lot of help from our people gettin’ ’em outta the Underground.”

  Krystal stopped walking. “They won’t last long on the surface, Pops. Not without having to absorb someone. You all know that, right?”

  Pops squinted under one of the tunnel lights. “You know, Krys. We gotta rely on the fact they know what they’re doing. We don’t know all the ins and outs of the Changers. We just know these two guys don’t want to be Changers anymore and they offered their help to us.”

  “So you helped them get out of the Underground? Now what?”

  The two resumed walking. “Well, a lot of that’s up to them. I can say they weren’t much help when the battle was goin’ on outside the Perimeter. But they’re willing. Maybe we’ll see what they have to offer now that it seems to be settling down some.
”

  “Fred and Thomas are good men,” Krystal said. “With good hearts.”

  Geezer waited in the inspection pit inside the Hangar. He gazed through the tunnel opening while he held the hatch up. “They gotta be comin’ pretty soon, Dion. Don’t take that long to walk fifty yards.”

  Dion stood next to Ryker, arms folded across his chest. Ryker leaned against Pops’s pride and joy—a classic boattail Buick Riviera—thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. Jimbo and Winter stood adjacent to the inspection pit. Jimbo mirrored Dion’s stance. Winter paced, her hand resting on the 9mm pistol at her waist. Lace and Jasper sat atop the main workbench next to Dion.

  Fred Garrison and Thomas Dennis stood on the other side of Lace and Jasper.

  Raymond leaned against the door that led to the compound outside. “So are we gonna make a decision before she gets here?”

  “Hang loose, Ray,” Dion said. “We’ll make the decision when I say.”

  “Sounds like you’re wussing out on us, man,” Raymond said.

  Jimbo spun a quick one-eighty to face Raymond. “Care to back that up, dude?” He unfolded his arms and dropped them to his sides.

  Raymond took a step forward. “You know this is all bullshit, Jim.” He pointed at the tunnel opening. “That bitch is a Changer, man, just like those two assholes.” He pointed at Fred and Thomas. “She’s got no place here.”

  Geezer propped the hatch open. He took his spectacles off and snatched a rag from the back pocket of his coveralls. “My money’s on Jim, Ray.” He motioned at Jimbo with his glasses before rubbing them with the rag. “He’ll kick yer ass.”

  “Nobody’s kicking anyone’s ass,” Dion said. “Both of you settle down.”

  Geezer glanced down into the pit. “Hep.” He put his glasses back on. “Here they come.”

  Pops trotted up the ladder from the tunnel opening inside the inspection pit. Krystal followed. The two stood side by side and looked at Dion.

  Dion nodded once. “Krystal.”