The Face of a Rogue

by L T Anderson

  Krystal slowed her BearCat as she and Ryker entered the undeveloped east end of Old Town. “Foot traffic is heavy,” she said.

  “All the homeless,” Ryker said. “They can’t be too far from here. Charlie’s House is coming up on the left.”

  “I see it. Adam said they’re about fifty yards down, my left.”

  The passenger window was down, Ryker’s elbow rested on the sill. He pointed across the cab through the windshield. “There.”

  Krystal braked the armored truck and stopped in the center turn lane. She left all the vehicle’s lights on, set the parking brake and turned off the ignition. The two Punks dismounted and walked swiftly across the street.

  A small crowd of people had formed a loose semicircle around the Three Amigos and the dirty-blond guy in their custody. The detainee was sitting on the sidewalk, hands secured behind him, his back against the brick building. Ryker pushed through the pedestrians and lookie-loos, making a pathway for Krystal.

  “Hey,” Ryker greeted. He glanced at the man on the sidewalk. “So, this is the guy?”

  “Yeah,” Will said. “He had a partner, but we sent him to Charlie’s. We figured it was best to separate ’em.”

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” Krystal said. “Ryk and I are going back to headquarters. We’ll send Fred, Thomas and Silver back to pick this guy up. It’ll be a good first assignment for them. I know it makes for a long shift for you, but we need you to hold this guy till they get here.”

  “No problem,” Will said. “One of us can grab something for us to eat. We’ll manage.”

  “Good. I’ll have Fred make contact with you when he gets close.” She glanced at Ryker, then back at the Amigos. “One more thing. Keep your eyes peeled for Raymond. We heard he made it to Tremayne, this side of town.”

  Chapter 33

  Manufacturing People

  The winter air was seasonably cold in the Southern California desert. The stars appeared early in the crisp clear sky.

  Felix pulled on his white lab coat and absentmindedly patted his top pocket to confirm the presence of his stylus. He repeated the check of his cell in one side pocket and his tablet in the other as he gazed into the mirror on the wall beside the transport cube portal. He smoothed a hand over his thinning hair and smiled. I have chosen the good side.

  The doctor waved his palm over the sensor next to the door. Stepping into the cube, he turned and gazed up at the stars through the glass ceiling in his quarters. He folded his hands behind his back as the door swished closed. I have been in this place too long. I miss the fresh clean air. I miss nature. One day, I’ll be out of this place, and I will stand on a mountain, and I will view the stars directly. One day soon.

  Ivan Duncan stripped off a pair of disposable synthetic gloves and tossed them into a small stainless-steel-lined hole in the countertop. He pressed a button adjacent to the hole and watched the gloves disappear down the vacuum tube. “Sucks we’re relegated to manual labor like this, partner.”

  Marvellus Macey pushed the last of eight high chairs under a wide counter on the opposite wall. He turned and looked at his friend. “Yeah.” He surveyed the brightly lit all-white room and placed his hands on his hips. “Cleaning the lab technicians’ break room. Who’d have thought?”

  Ivan leaned against the countertop and crossed his arms. “You ever think about getting out of here? Like Fred and Thomas?”

  “All the time. I never imagined we’d be cut off the way we were. I mean, look. We dedicated our lives to the Changers. It’d be tough starting new out there in the Bystanders’ world.”

  “I agree,” Ivan said. “It’s enough that we step out of the Underground every so often to absorb a Bystander. But living with them? I don’t know. The Underground is our home.”

  Marvellus frowned. “But what is there for us here? I mean, it’s not like we can work our way up anymore.”

  “I guess we could find other jobs here in the Underground,” Ivan said.

  “Like what?” Marvellus pulled out one of the chairs he had just pushed in and sat down. “Baristas, waiters, taxi drivers?”

  Ivan shook his head slowly. “I don’t know—” A flashing green light above the door caught his attention. “Heads up.”

  Marvellus hopped down off the chair and quickly placed it back under the counter as the door swished open.

  “Greetings, my friends.”

  “Felix!” the two said in unison.

  “Get changed. We have work to do.”

  “But, we’re clocked in here,” Ivan said.

  Felix waved his hand. “I have adjusted your schedules. Your supervisor is loyal to me. Now get changed. We’ll be visiting a high security lab to view the Changers’ latest technology, so look appropriate. Just don’t look like yourselves. There are some lab coats in the dressing room.”

  The two former scientists hurried to the small room and selected appropriate-sized coats. Felix pulled two small credit-card-sized devices from his pocket and handed one to each man. “Put this card in your pocket. I am carrying one as well. They will override our implanted chips to facilitate access.”

  The trio had changed their outward appearances by the time they exited the break room. Felix led them down a familiar white corridor to an elevator. He pressed the number ten when they entered. The number ten button flashed in sync with a red light over the elevator’s doors.

  “Ten’s top security,” Marvellus said.

  Felix turned and looked up at Marvellus. “Of course it is.” Felix passed his override card over an adjacent panel. The light above the door flashed green three times, and the elevator began its descent. “When we arrive, follow my lead.”

  Four security guards were stationed outside the elevator on the tenth level. Felix nodded to them as the three stepped off. Ivan and Marvellus followed the doctor to an unmarked door at the end of a short hallway.

  When the trio stepped through the doorway into the wide corridor, Felix was surprised to see armed guards lining the walls. Estimating a total of 100 guards, he did his best to appear unfazed at the display. A distant humming sound, accompanied by a clicking, pricked his ears. The clicking seemed to follow a one-sixteenth note rhythm. The sound increased in intensity as the three approached a set of double sliding doors on their right. Felix stopped and turned to face the doors. He glanced further down the hallway and estimated an additional 100 guards on the other side of the doors.

  The two guards on either side of the double doors nodded at Felix. He placed a hand into his lab coat pocket and pushed his override card against the sensor. The double doors slid open, revealing a small anteroom with a single door opposite the entrance.

  A technician in a white lab coat greeted the trio from behind a console that supported a computer monitor and keyboard. “Good evening,” the man said. “Welcome to SOUL Central.” He scanned his monitor, looked back at the three, then scanned his monitor again while he tapped his keyboard. His eyes narrowed as he looked back to Felix. “Uh, you’re here for?”

  “Progress and quality control inspection,” Felix said without missing a beat.

  “Ah.” The technician smiled. “Go right ahead.” He tapped his keyboard once more, and a loud click sounded from the single door.

  Felix led Ivan and Marvellus through the door into a spacious room, two stories high. The humming Felix had heard from the hallway intensified in this room. Multiple robotic arms—the source of the clicking—tapped busily onto circuit boards. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when he saw the glass pods—hundreds of them—with bodies inside. The pods were suspended in rows from the ceiling at four levels. The largest were chest-high from the floor. The smaller pods landed approximately four feet below ceiling height. Felix counted silently to himself. Ten, twenty, forty, eighty…multiplied by… He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

  “Oh my God, Felix,” Marvellus said.

  Felix stood still, eyes closed, and held up a hand. He exh
aled and opened his eyes. “There are 2,400 pods in this room.” He looked up toward the ceiling at the stainless-steel scaffolding with ladders to each tier of glass containers. Technicians in white jumpsuits viewed numerous holographic monitors next to each enclosure.

  “But who, or what, is in them?” Ivan said.

  “These aren’t Chybrids.” Marvellus looked wide-eyed at Felix. “Are they?”

  Felix approached a technician monitoring a display next to a pod in the main aisle. “Excuse me,” he said to the man. “Progress and quality control.”

  The technician paused and turned to Felix. He smiled. “Oh, yes. How may I help you?”

  Felix pulled his tablet from his lab coat pocket. “Tell me about this project.”

  Technical personnel on high security projects were acutely aware that an audit or quality control inspection may include inquiries regarding the technician’s knowledge of the project.

  The technician stood at attention, hands to his sides. “This is Engagement X. That is, its designation, X, represents the ancient Roman numeral ten. Hence, this is the tenth major engagement by the Changers North America organization targeted toward elimination of the Punks to control North America, with an eye toward the Changers’ world domination—”

  Felix had begun waving his hand halfway through the man’s spiel. “Stop, stop, stop, young man. The fact you have memorized a manual verbatim means nothing to me. It does not tell me you understand what you are doing. Tell me about this project in your own words.”

  The man folded his hands in front of him. His smile was relaxed. “Well, sir, these…” He turned and motioned to the pods. “These are SOUL Chybrid children. They have sprung directly from the mind of the eminent Dr. Xander Rasmus.” He looked up. “The upper tier of pods are occupied by the infants and toddlers. These SOUL babies, when placed in strategic locations with families in Tremayne and other major cities throughout the region, will be used as containers. Once they effect absorption, they will store the captured enzymes we require for life extension.”

  “And who will be absorbed by an infant?” Felix said.

  The technician appeared puzzled. “Why…babysitters, daycare professionals…you know.”

  “Excuse me,” Ivan said. “Is there a danger of an infant absorbing a family member?”

  “Of course there is,” the man said. “But we tightly monitor and track all SOUL babies and SOUL children. In the event they absorb the family they reside with, we will retrieve the baby and return it to the Underground. Here it will live a perfectly normal life with a Changer family.” He held up a finger. “For, as you know, a Changer will not absorb a Changer.”

  “What about the other tiers here?” Felix said.

  “Ah, these are key in our takeover of the Bystanders. The other three tiers are, from the bottom up, high school, junior high and elementary school age SOUL children. We will use these to infiltrate and influence the Bystander population to hate the Punks and love us.”

  “How do you plan to place these older children?” Marvellus asked. “You can’t just flood the cities and towns with hordes of adolescents and expect them to be taken in by someone.”

  The technician smiled again. “Another good question. We have built, and continue to build, new subdivisions and housing projects within Bystander territories that are capable of receiving the large influx of new people. We have devised entire SOUL Chybrid families.” He pointed toward the end of the main aisle. “That room houses the pods that contain the SOUL Chybrid adults.”

  “But—” Ivan began.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Felix said. He nodded to the technician. “Good job, young man.” He turned to Ivan and Marvellus. “We must go.” He turned abruptly and walked swiftly to the exit.

  Ivan and Marvellus fast-walked to keep up with the doctor. “Felix, what’s wrong?” Ivan asked.

  “I must contact Krystal immediately.” Moisture pooled in Felix’s eyes. “I was not prepared for this.”

  Chapter 34

  Oh Baby

  Raymond stood silently in the thrift store entrance as foot traffic on the sidewalk thinned. The shadow cast from the brick outcropping that formed the alcove cut his face down the middle. He kept one eye in the light, weighing his options. He studied the scene on the concrete walkway—the Three Amigos standing around the shackled homeless guy sitting on the concrete.

  Three putrid-green electric taxi vans moved quietly down the center turn lane toward the four. The vehicles stopped in the middle of the street in front of the Punks and their prisoner. Raymond watched the passengers exit the vans and move swiftly to the sidewalk. He squinted through the mist. One, two, three, four…seven, eight…ten…twelve! Those guys have rifles. His lips curled into a scowl as he watched a dozen men dressed in dark blue jumpsuits. Looks like someone else is going to do me the favor of eliminating those little jerks.

  Distance and the heavy night air muffled the voices. Raymond bent his knee and propped a foot against the wall behind him. He pulled Slade’s butterfly knife from his pocket and flipped it around in his hand. Your chickens are comin’ home to roost, you little fucks. He watched the men disarm the Amigos and frisk them against the building. The homeless man remained seated while the armed men placed handcuffs on the three friends.

  A thirteenth person stepped out of the lead vehicle. Raymond’s eyes widened. He dropped his foot from the wall, stuffed the knife back into his pocket and stood up straight. Oh, baby. What have we here? The woman wore a black formfitting pantsuit and black boots with four-inch heels. Her long black hair was slicked back and tied in a tight French braid. Raymond watched her bark orders at the twelve blue suits. She stood with her hands on her hips in front of the homeless guy. What are you saying? He decided to move closer.

  “Where’s Logan?” Angelica said. “And stand up. I thought you were stronger than this.”

  Joey looked at Will. “Changers.”

  The Three Amigos stood facing the brick wall of an old abandoned warehouse, their backs to the street. “I can’t believe we had our guard down,” Will whispered.

  Adam studied the reflection of the street behind him in the dirty glass doors. “Who is that woman?”

  Will shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s just hope Fred and Thomas get here soon.”

  Curly stood and looked at Angelica. “Angelica, these guys forced Johnny to go to Charlie’s.”

  Angelica didn’t bother trying to hide her irritation. “What the hell is Charlie’s? And where the hell is it?” She nodded to one of the blue suits. “Cut those things off his wrists.”

  Joey turned his head slowly to the left. He did a double take. Ray?

  The disgraced Punk had made his way down the sidewalk and sat down on the concrete one door away from the Amigos. He did his best to look homeless, not realizing it wasn’t much of a stretch. His jeans and boots were caked in mud, his hair tangled. Traces of Slade’s dried blood streaked his once-cool leather jacket and the back of his hands.

  Joey motioned to Will. “Raymond,” he whispered.

  Angelica pointed at a blue suit. “Get that door open. I know the perfect place for these dregs.”

  The blue suit slung his rifle around his back and approached the dirty double glass doors to the warehouse. He stood for a moment, eyeing the entrance. He raised his right leg, took aim and slammed his boot into the aluminum-framed structure, dead center between the doors. The door frames swung inward as the safety glass shattered. One frame lost an upper hinge.

  “Follow me,” Angelica said. “And bring those Punks with you.”

  Four blue suits followed Angelica into the warehouse. Three others grabbed the Amigos by their collars and shoved them roughly through the newly created opening.

  Light inside the warehouse was nonexistent. Will strained his eyes to follow Angelica. A shove on his back caused him to stumble forward. His boot kicked something hard. He pitched headlong into the darkness, and his feet left the
floor. He raised his chin as high as he could as his chest hit the cold concrete floor, and he slid. Dammit! His chin slammed into something else. He tasted blood as his lip went numb. A hand on the collar of his parka hoisted him to his feet and shoved him forward again.

  Angelica stopped at the back wall of the warehouse. She lifted a huge bar from its resting place across a heavily rusted steel door. She used both hands to pull the door open. Years of non-use had taken a toll; rust partially fused the door’s hinges in place. Angelica’s strength was more than enough to break the weld. The door creaked open and she stepped back. “Get in the hole.”

  The stench of mold and decaying animal permeated the Amigos’ nostrils. Adam retched, suppressing a gag and forcing his dinner down. Will and Joey were not as strong. Their stomachs emptied quickly in front of them, adding to the nearly unbearable odor.

  Angelica was unfazed. She pointed at Curly. “Get him in here, too. This’ll hold him till we can fetch Logan.”

  “That makes no sense,” Curly said. Two blue suits forced Curly into the room with the Three Amigos.

  The four captives stood motionless in the dark and listened to the heavy bar on the outside of the door slam back into place. When the sound of Angelica’s boots clicking on the wet concrete floor of the warehouse faded into the distance, Will exhaled. “Hey, guys.”

  “We’re here,” Joey said.

  Adam scuffed his feet on the floor. “What the hell is down here? Feels like mush on concrete.”

  “I don’t know, besides my barf,” Will said.

  Joey squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide. “Mine, too.” He strained to look around. “Damn, it’s dark in here. I still can’t see you guys.”