by L T Anderson
Curtis looked up. His body was restored to perfection, tight, muscular and toned. His eyes narrowed. The once bright blue irises faded to gray, then black. You should have killed me, Krystal.
A red strobe light over the door caught his attention. He stepped through his bedroom into the living area, stopped at a black glass-topped desk and tapped a touch pad. A monitor on the opposite wall lit up and displayed details of the red alert.
EVENT: MAJOR EXPLOSION
LOCATION: LEVEL 3 CORRIDOR 3-101
STATUS: AUTOMATIC SECURITY DOORS ACTIVATED
INGRESS/EGRESS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
EXECUTIVE PARKING/RECEIVING TEMPORARILY CLOSED
CASUALTIES: 20 CONFIRMED EXPIRED / 1 MISSING
CAUSE: INTRUDER / FOREIGN ENTITY
DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: IN PROGRESS / FORENSIC DETAIL ON SITE
Curtis shook his head. “Thought you people had your act together.” He tapped the panel to extinguish the monitor and went to his bedroom to dress. He selected a formfitting off-white jumpsuit with matching shirt and dress boots. He pulled on a coordinating waist-length tapered sport coat with dark blue buttons. He checked his look in a full-length mirror and smiled. I kinda like the bald look.
Two armed guards greeted Curtis as he exited his quarters and headed toward the elevator. The lead guard nodded. “Good day, sir.”
“And good day to you, too,” Curtis said.
The guards followed him to the elevator and stopped outside.
Curtis stepped into the elevator, pressed number ten and waved his palm over the security pad. When the doors opened on Level Ten, he walked swiftly past the two guards and proceeded solo down the wide corridor. A newly installed body scanner flashed orange and back to blue as he passed through the door to the War Room. He bounded up the stairs to Levi’s conference room.
Silver looked up as the door swished closed behind him. “It’s about time, Dyer.”
Levi glanced at Curtis. “Mr. Dyer. You are in time for the update on the security breach on Level Three.”
“I checked the alert,” Curtis said as he approached the conference table. “Something about an explosion?”
Johnny smiled. “It was awesome. Yaz blew the lid off this place.”
Levi shot a look at Johnny. “I would hardly call it awesome.” He looked at Curtis. “The traitor, Felix Yaz, has caused some minor damage on the third level. The damage is contained to a small area.” He glanced at Silver. “Cleanup will be complete soon, correct, Ms. Long?”
Silver backed away from the table and pointed at the monitor above the bar. “Sure, Levi. You can call it minor. But we’ll have crews working all day and into the night to restore basic functionality to that section.”
Xander stood by the bar under the monitor. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Dyer?”
“Sure,” Curtis said. “Pour me some mineral water.”
Silver leaned back and crossed her arms. “My, my, Levi. What have we here? This man acts like he has not been taught the pecking order.”
“Mr. Dyer is a valuable member of our team, Ms. Long. Please accept him as—”
“I don’t need to be defended, sir,” Curtis said. He stepped up to Silver and leaned into her ear. “Stay on my good side and I’ll make sure you stay on the team.”
Silver’s eyes widened. “Why you little shit.”
Levi held up both hands. “Enough. Rasmus, get this man his drink.”
“Seriously, Levi?” Silver said. “You’re having the head of development and technology step and fetch for this newbie?”
Johnny laughed.
Curtis took the glass of mineral water from Xander and turned to Silver. He held up the glass toward her and smiled. “Don’t forget what I said.”
“Dr. Rasmus,” Levi said. “How long until all systems are 100 percent on Level Three?”
“The latest report estimates eight hours.”
Johnny stepped up to Curtis and whispered into his ear. “What’d you say to her?”
Curtis sipped his water and tilted his head toward Johnny. “None of your fucking business.”
“Whoa, dude.” Johnny held up his hands. “No need to be hostile. So what’s up?”
“This place is disorganized,” Curtis said. “Something like this should never have happened.”
It was Levi’s turn to cross his arms. “Let’s hear it, Dyer.”
“Okay,” Curtis said. “From what I gather, Ms. Long here located Dr. Yaz. Am I correct?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“And if Dr. Yaz is truly the genius I’ve heard he is, why were guards sent in to apprehend him with nothing more in the way of protection than Kevlar vests and helmets?”
Levi looked down at Silver. “That’s a good question, Ms. Long.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Curtis said. “You would have to have approved of the operation, correct?”
Silver smiled and raised an eyebrow to Levi.
Levi uncrossed his arms and straightened up. “Don’t try to put this on me, Ms. Long. You were fully in charge of this operation.”
“And why is he here?” Curtis asked, pointing at Johnny. “I thought he was supposed to be in charge of assimilating the new SOUL Chybrid children in Tremayne.”
Johnny’s face fell. “Well, I was called to be here.”
“That’s my point,” Curtis said. “You shouldn’t have been called in. You need to get your butt to Tremayne and do your job. Your services aren’t needed here. It’s a waste of your talent.”
It was Xander’s turn to smile. He held his lowball glass of whiskey in the air. “Here’s to Mr. Dyer.”
“At least I did my job finding Yaz,” Silver said.
“And you sacrificed twenty members of an elite security force attempting to apprehend him,” Curtis said.
Silver snorted. “A small price.”
Curtis took a long sip of his water and placed the glass on the table. He turned to Silver. “So where is Yaz now?”
Silver cleared her throat. Unwilling to admit she may have lost Dr. Yaz yet again, she opted to keep her knowledge of the teleportation device to herself. “Well—”
“We believe we will find his body in the rubble inside the room he destroyed,” Levi said. “We are certain this was a suicide mission.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Curtis said. “You’ve always underestimated the doctor.”
Chapter 41
Bird to the Monster
Jasper sat inside the small guardhouse at Checkpoint One, one mile outside Punk headquarters. He snugged his black bandanna up over his nose and pulled his beanie down to his eyebrows.
His partner paced outside by the boom gate, occasionally warming himself at a smoldering burn barrel. “Hey, Jasper,” he shouted. “You need a heat up?”
“Nah, I’m good. Sun’s coming up. It’ll break through the fog pretty quick.”
A dilapidated mid-1970s pickup turned off the paved highway onto the damp dirt road leading to the first checkpoint into the Punks’ compound. Rusted steel panels on the truck—precariously bonded to the vehicle’s mostly intact frame—flapped in the breeze.
The dirt road was slick. The driver smiled as the pickup fishtailed on acceleration. He reached down to the dash and turned the music volume up as high as it would go.
Jasper peered into the mist up the dirt road in front of the guardhouse. What the hell?
Headlights on the old pickup fluttered in the fog like two out-of-sync strobes. Jasper heard the roar of the engine when the driver pressed the accelerator. He watched the truck veer into the mud shoulder, then back to the road as the driver spun two full 360-degree donuts in the mud.
Jasper heard the music over the driver’s laughter. Promised Land? Guy must like Elvis, he thought as the pickup skidded to a stop thirty yards from the guardhouse.
The music stopped when the driver turned off the motor and stepped out of the creaky truck.
; Jasper motioned to his partner. “Heads up, dude. Foot traffic.”
It was definitely a man. His silhouette sharpened from fuzzy gray to black as he moved through the murk toward Jasper. The man’s gait was smooth and confident. His black wool fedora tilted left and forward. His matching black suit appeared clean and pressed.
Jasper exited the guardhouse, swung his AR-15 forward off his shoulder and approached the man. “Good day, sir.”
The man stopped and bowed slightly. He removed his hat and held it belt-high in front of himself. “Hello. I am here to see Krystal.”
Jasper took a step back and aimed his gun at the man’s chest. “What’s in the briefcase?”
The man looked down at the case in his left hand. “These are my personal possessions,” he said, not looking up.
Jasper’s partner approached the two slowly, his AR-15 also pointed at the stranger. “I’ll get hold of Ace, right?”
“Yeah, do that,” Jasper said, keeping his eyes on the man.
The man looked up at Jasper and smiled. “Please. Contact Krystal. Tell her Felix is here.”
Krystal stood, arms crossed, in Fred and Thomas’s room at Punk headquarters. “Looks like they issued you two the smallest guest quarters we’ve got.” She surveyed the room. “A hot plate? You guys ever use that?”
“Nah,” Thomas said. “But there’s good food here. We’ve been pretty well taken care of.” He glanced at Fred. “At least in terms of feeding us.”
“I’m getting you guys top-notch accommodations,” she said. “You can kiss this place goodbye.” She looked at Fred. “You’ll move into Curtis Dyer’s old quarters.”
“Thanks, Krys,” Fred said.
“There’s an empty suite next to that. You’ll set up there, Thomas.”
“Awesome,” Thomas said. “We do appreciate it.”
Krystal put her hands on her hips. “You two are important. We need everything you have inside those heads of yours—experience, intellect, technology.”
Fred held a hand to his forehead.
“You okay, Fred?” she said.
He rubbed his head. “We’re timing out. I hate to say it, but we’re gonna need an absorption soon.”
Krystal gazed at her two friends. “You don’t need to absorb anymore. You both need what Felix gave me.”
Fred looked up. “Do you realize the technology that’s required for that?” He glanced at Thomas. “I mean, we brought all that information with us. But we don’t have the means to set up any of the computers, the machinery, the whatever.”
“We’ll come up with a way,” Krystal said. “Punks always do.”
Thomas shook his head. “You couldn’t devise anything that would match up to Felix.”
Krystal smiled. “For starters we have you two. I’d say that’s a good start.”
“I like your enthusiasm,” Fred said. “But—”
“Look,” Krystal said. “Right now, this place we’re living in is one huge black world. Every evil force you can think of is against us. We fight till the end, whatever the end is. I’d rather go down with all my friends standing beside me flipping off the monster, than give in to it.”
Thomas couldn’t help laughing. “I like that. So, we’re literally flipping the bird to the Changers.”
Krystal held out her fist. The three Rogue Changers exchanged bumps.
“Now, get your stuff packed up.” She turned to leave. “I’ll have your new quarters ready by the time you’re done.”
Fred rubbed his forehead again and frowned. “Hey, Krys.”
She held the door open and looked back at Fred. He flipped her off.
Krystal smiled. “Bird to the monster.”
Levi and his elite inner circle wandered around inside the burned-out shell of a room that was once Dr. Felix Yaz’s quarters.
Levi gazed up at the opening where the glass skylight had blown out. “How are we so close to the surface, Rasmus? We entered that dreadful little supply room on Level Three. It looks like we’re at ground level.”
Xander smiled. “The doctor truly is a thinker, Leader. You see, this hallway we entered is on a pressure-sensitive adjustable platform. It rose ever so gently as we walked through. From what I can tell, the floor throughout this tunnel senses when weight is applied—such as when someone is walking on it. As a person progresses through the tunnel, the floor rises. This tunnel is specifically programmed to rise from the third level to here, however high we are. The motion is so subtle, you hardly notice you are actually walking uphill.” He turned around to the group. “Ingenious.”
“What’s so ingenious about it?” Johnny said.
“That should be obvious. When we discovered the entrance to this tunnel system was on Level Three, we all assumed Dr. Yaz’s quarters were on Level Three.” He gazed at the four other Changers. “Correct?”
“Yes,” Silver said. “But you said Dr. Yaz is a thinker. From the looks of this place, surely you mean he was a thinker.”
“You’re delusional,” Curtis said. “There are no bodies here.”
“He is right,” Levi said. “I see nothing but charred debris and twisted metal.”
Silver scoffed. “And you think a human could have survived this destruction? His body probably disintegrated in the blast.”
Xander folded his arms and looked at Silver. “I’m beginning to side with Curtis on this issue. I’m not convinced we should count the good doctor out just yet.”
Ryker reclined on the leather sofa in his quarters, his long legs stretched across his polished wood coffee table. He started at a knock on the door. “Come in!”
Dion stepped in and quietly closed the door behind him. “Hey.”
“Hey, bro. Grab a beer and come check out the news. It’s crazy.”
The Punk leader stepped behind the small bar and grabbed a cold bottle from the refrigerator underneath.
“You’re looking badass,” Ryker said. “Special occasion?”
Dion’s bleached-blond hair had been freshly cut. Numerous spiked tips had been dyed bright red. “Nah, just routine maintenance.”
“So, only a vest?” Ryker said. “Isn’t it cold outside?”
Dion shrugged and popped the top on his bottle. “Conditioning. You know.”
Ryker sat up, boots to the floor. “All righty, bro. I know you better than that. What’s up with you?” He motioned to a matching leather chair adjacent to the sofa.
Dion walked around the bar and sat down. He looked intently at Ryker over his bottle as he triple-chugged.
Ryker picked up the TV’s remote control and turned the volume down. He looked at his friend. “Well?”
“We’ve been doing this a long time, Ryk,” Dion said.
“Fighting Changers?”
Dion lit a cigarette. He clinked his lighter shut and placed it on top of the pack on the side table. “Yeah.”
“I agree. So…what about it? It’s been our lives ever since we were old enough to fix a cocktail.”
Dion smiled and stared at the soundless images flickering across the flat-screen. “Yeah, those Molotovs. We were badass little guerrillas.”
Ryker sucked a drink from his beer. “Thought we were. That’s how it all started with you and me, bro.”
“Sometimes I just get tired of the whole thing. Tired of this fucked-up world.”
“I hear you. I feel like we haven’t progressed in years and the Changers just keep on moving up in the world.”
Dion blew a smoke ring. “Yep. It’s like all we have is what we have, and it’s the same as we’ve had for the last twenty years, you know?”
“Technology-wise?” Ryker said. “Yeah. But we’ve done surprisingly well in spite of all that.” He leaned forward, elbows to knees. “Look, their tech power increases and we keep shutting them down, right?”
“I guess that brings me to the real reason I’m here.” Dion took another swig of his beer. “Krystal.”
&nb
sp; “What about her?”
“Think about it, Ryk. She brought some high-tech weapons against our high-tech enemy. Without her, Punks were done.”
Ryker sat back and rested a boot on his knee. “Right. And your point?”
Dion raised his voice. “My point is, Krystal has all the contacts now. She’s connected to some very badass people.” He smashed his cigarette butt into an ashtray. “High-tech people.”
“Contacts are one thing,” Ryker said. “We still have the personnel and ingenuity.”
Dion stared into the darkened hallway leading to Ryker’s bedroom. “I kind of feel like she’s taking over.”
Ryker gazed at his best friend. He lit a cigarette. “You gave her authority, bro. She’s proving she’s a leader. I think she’s doing a good job so far.”
“She was literally giving me orders, right?”
“Yeah, but she’s making the right moves, Dion,” Ryker said. “What would you have done? Did you have a plan? Did you even know what the Changers were doing? Could you have known without Krystal?”
Dion leaned forward and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “You’re right. With me in charge we were sitting ducks once again.”
Static crackled from the ceiling speaker. “Hey, Ryk. Ace here. Do you copy?”
Ryker pressed a button on the side table. “Go ahead, Ace.”
“Yeah, Ryk. You seen Dion? He’s not in his quarters.”
Dion tipped his chin up to Ryker. “Yeah, he’s here with me. What’s up?”
“Yeah. Jasper called from the checkpoint. Some guy walked up that’s asking for Krystal. Says he’s Felix.”
The two Punk leaders stood quickly.
“Copy that, Ace,” Ryker said. “Have you notified Krystal?”
“That’s a 10-4, Ryk. She grabbed Jimbo and Winter and headed out. She wouldn’t wait for me to notify Dion.”
