Logan took off his back pack, feeling instant relief on his shoulders. He opened his jacket to let in some air onto his sticky back.
“I’m whacked,” Sean said, red faced and stripping off his jacket.
They both drank water and ate an energy bar. The familiar fruit tasting chewy bar was only bearable when eaten with water. As he chomped down the food, the air became charged with electricity. Like the earlier whistling noise.
“I hope there’s a cafe down here,” Sean said.
“I’ll have steak and fries,” Ortiz replied.
“Cheeseburger then chocolate ice cream,” Rodgers said.
There were shouts for pizza, hot dogs, fish tacos, ribs, chili and meatloaf. Logan’s mouth watered as the list continued. If he were to choose, it would be a Philly cheese steak, a sandwich so greasy that he’d need to wear a bib. Then Key lime pie with coffee, strong and hot.
Ortiz approached and leant towards him. “Scout says the road ahead is clear, no one in sight.”
Ortiz was waiting for an order. Face blank but a slight pinch to his eyes.
The surrounding environment didn’t appear to have changed. Logan glanced at the sky, fields, roads and ground at his feet. With the exception of being overgrown and littered with intermittent, abandoned cars, he could be home.
“Belhurst Castle?” Sean said.
Ortiz barked a laugh.
“The Greenidge plant should be on our right in a few miles,” Logan said. “Save Belhurst for the way back.”
“Stay alert. Everyone up, let’s get going,” Ortiz said.
After another hour walking, they could all see pylons poking above the trees. The Greenidge power plant was fuelled by natural gas and biomass. Logan had read the plants history and kept an eye on their operations. In a professional capacity and also in case Barney ever decided on a change.
If the plant was operational then there was some hope of normality. If not they would carry on to Geneva then turn back and discuss their next moves at the mine.
Scouts ran forward to the chain link fence, cut a hole and darted through. Logan watched their progress from a copse of trees. The men skirted around the cluster of pylons then disappeared behind an outbuilding.
“Not a real plant,” Sean whispered, his red face grinning
Logan turned to smile at Sean. “Diet power.”
He squatted then leant back and sat against a tree, loosening his pack and splaying out his legs. Sean threw down his pack, earning a hiss from Ortiz. He flopped down next to Logan and titled back his head.
“It’s like a junkyard down there.”
Logan grunted in agreement, the whistling noise boring into his ears. He rubbed them and opened his mouth to lessen the pressure. Sean spoke again but he didn’t hear the words. A hand slapped his cheek and he opened his eyes.
“Not again. Stay awake,” Sean said, leaning over him.
“I’m okay.”
There was a commotion in front of Ortiz as he counted in four soldiers then turned towards them. They had a brief exchange of words.
“Time to set up camp,” Ortiz said.
He led them across a bridge and into woodland, heading towards the lake. They reached a clearing with the lake opposite them and Ortiz called a halt. He positioned sentries at cardinal points and sent out two scouts.
Sean threw down his backpack and sat against a tree.
“On your feet Sean. Get the camp set up then we can all sit down,” Ortiz said.
Logan fished out his small tent. It was a green waterproof tarpaulin that could be hung between trees. Inside the makeshift tent, he laid out a sleeping bag on top of a waterproof sheet. Not a comfortable bed, but it would be all he needed.
He pulled out all four food pouches to inspect them on the ground. Chicken Stew, Spaghetti Bolognaise, Meatballs in Marinara Sauce and Vegetable Lasagna. It was more variety than they were used to in the mine.
“They’re flameless bagged military rations,” Ortiz said, walking over and squatting. “Built into each bag is a separate water compartment containing a vial. When you rupture the vial it cooks the food.”
“Anything’s better than Fox’s rehydrated mushrooms and jerky,” Sean said.
Logan sat against a tree, eating the surprisingly tasty chicken stew. Sean devoured Spaghetti Bolognaise by his side.
“What happened earlier and don’t bullshit me?” Sean whispered.
Logan related the details of what happened in his stronghold. He left nothing out, wincing at the strange nature of the tale. Sean sat back, chewing a mouthful of food and considering the information.
“You feel physically okay?”
“I’ve been spaced out all day, like I’m distracted or confused.”
“I suppose we’ve all been under pressure for the last year, you most of all. A breakdown can’t be ruled out.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ve started talking to myself.”
“We all do that.”
“But this was different. It was real. I mean we didn’t have a conversation.”
“Your subconscious is trying to tell you something.”
“What?”
“We can’t ask the right question when we don’t know the answer. Is a square still a square if it doesn’t have four sides?”
“That’s pseudo philosophy.”
They were interrupted by a soldier who briefed them on the sentry roster for the night. Sean leaned in close and pulled Logan towards him. “Just don’t let it become a problem that festers in its own vomit. Know what I’m saying?”
Logan gave him a nod and smile. No one ever knew what Sean was saying.
They rejoined the group before daylight faded, Rodgers brewed tea on a small fire. Logan sipped the sweet tea and sat in companionable silence. As darkness settled around them, the group seemed to shift uncomfortably.
Big fat unfamiliar drops of rain began to fall. Logan let them hit his face for a moment before climbing into his makeshift tent. He lay listening to the patter of rainfall on uneven bumpy ground, replaying the day’s events as he drifted to sleep.
#
He stood on golden sandy beach, calm blue water stretching away in the distance. Above him was an azure sky and bright sun. The scene vibrated and shifted as though it could disappear at any moment. Logan reached out pointing, hoping to puncture the air.
His other self was stood at the beach bar, dressed in a combat suit and staring with a blank face. He raised a hand and placed it over his eyes. Then dropped it back to his side.
“Are you my soul?” Logan asked.
The man stared back, no recognition on his face but green eyes sparkling bright. Logan reached out and prodded his chest, shoulder then face.
“Who are you?” Logan breathed.
The man opened his mouth, seeming to force a word out. Logan‘s own mouth moved in unison. They both spoke a word together. “Haarp”.
Chapter 23
Matos lowered his pistol to the ground and stepped back.
“Who are you?” The central figure spoke, his voice muffled behind the mask.
“We came from a military bunker not far from h-”
“Who are you?” he repeated.
His cloak changed shade with a slight shift of position and movement of his arm. There was a density to the garment, like a flexible solid fabric. Its color was either grey or brown or charcoal.
“You’re Ghosts.” she said.
His black rifle pointed in her general direction despite still being held at the hip. “Why did you leave the bunker?”
“I escaped. They were going to,” she said, struggling for the words. “Condition me.”
“How do you resist nano control?”
“I don’t know.”
Matos hadn’t said a word. He stood in an alert position with feet shoulder width apart, a slight bend at his knees. He was ready for a fight. Avery gestured with her hand to stay calm.
As she turned back, the Ghost threw a red ball towards h
er. She twisted too late and it thudded against her, splattering a red fluid over her chest and neck. The muscles of her entire body went into spasm. She fell convulsing on the floor, clenching her teeth and screwing up her eyes. Moments before losing consciousness her body relaxed.
She pulled in a lungful of air then spat blood and snot onto the floor. Staring at the sky and cleansed in a strange way. The calmness quickly gave way to fury as a fire built inside her. She rolled over, tensing to spring at the Ghost. They formed a horseshoe around her, silently watching.
Matos appeared in front of her, holding out a hand, a glint of apology in his eyes. Gripping his hand, she launched herself up to standing. He over balanced but corrected himself by pivoting behind her.
“Matos knows the rules,” the Ghost said.
She spat at Matos’ feet. “So you’re a one of them?”
The Ghost gave a snort.
Matos offered her a half smile. “Need to explain. But not here and now.”
He walked slowly towards the lead Ghost then shook his hand. Avery could see a show of strength in his grip was returned by the Ghost. She clenched a fist and estimated how quickly she could reach them.
“Commander Avery, this is Tracker,” Matos said, placing a hand on the lead Ghosts shoulder.
“We haven’t got long,” Tracker said. “Bloodhound drones will be back in numbers.”
“What happened?” Matos asked, throwing out an arm.
“At least a thousand missile strikes in the US.”
Matos gave an exaggerated look left and right. “Bullshit”
“Washington, New York, Chicago, LA, Dallas. They landed all over the country.”
“Where’s the dust clouds, survivors. Where’s the Nuclear winter?”
“I’m not here to debate what happened.”
Avery moved away from Matos, stretching her arms and legs. New priority was a pair of trousers. She watched him talking to the Ghost like an old friend. First the Holo suite, then the bunker, and now Ghosts. Who the hell was this guy?
“Without power, medicine or food,” Tracker said. “People died. Millions died because they relied on a rotten world. An army of drones and cimices targeted thousands of refugees. It was so devastatingly effective that people didn’t even put up a fight.”
“Can someone tell me what’s going on? What are cimices?” Avery asked.
“Bugs,” Tracker replied. “Machines created for the clean-up. If you see one, run.”
“So what are you doing skulking out here?” Matos asked.
“Waiting for your report.”
“Need to speak with Kadigan.”
Matos moved away with Tracker and they began whispering. The remaining Ghosts were statuesque, cloaks flapping silently in the breeze.
“Couldn’t you stop it?” she asked.
There was no reply or any acknowledgement she had spoken.
“So what now? Hide for the rest of your lives?”
She ignored the static Ghosts and walked towards Matos and Tracker. They were in a heated whispered argument.
“Is this a private party?”
They both turned towards her, Matos frowning in annoyance. “This is Colonel Avery. She was Commander of bunker twenty two. If that doesn’t get me an audience with Kadigan then what will?”
“There’s no way you get to see the top dog. There’s a reason we have cells.”
“Look around,” Matos shouted, throwing out his arms. “It’s past the time for secrecy. Get me to Kadigan and we can work out a plan.”
“I told you. No way. Report to me and we’ll see what happens.”
Matos shook his head. “No Kadigan, no report.”
“For Christ’s sake man.” Tracker said, moving towards Matos, hands up to show they were empty. “It’s not a game, we need to work together.”
“Tired of playing by your rules,” Matos said, eyes level on Tracker.
“Can you tell me anything?”
“The nanos can’t control everyone. Avery broke the connection three times. There’s hope we can strike back. But we have to do it now.”
Tracker stalked away from Matos and regrouped with the remaining Ghosts. They stood in the horseshoe facing, muzzles still visible through their cloaks. Avery spread her feet, moving her weight back to spring forward.
“I’ll pass the message to Kadigan. If he says no, I’ll rip the information from you myself.”
Matos stretched out his arms and rotated his shoulders. “Looking forward to it.”
“Are you heading for Rochester?”
Matos nodded.
“RV there in seven days,” Tracker said. He turned to go then paused. “Stay out of the cities.”
Shapes distorted by flapping cloaks, Tracker and the other Ghosts sprinted in differing directions. Before Avery could shout another word they disappeared.
She glared at Matos. “You’d better start answering some questions.”
“Explain everything once we’re safe.”
“How are we going to outrun Bloodhounds?”
“Look for a boat, canoe or anything that floats.”
They split apart, running towards the lakeside houses. Avery kicked in a front door and ran inside looking for a garage door. There were two cars inside, each covered with a thin film of dust. Cursing, she ran outside to the next house. This garage was filled with machine tools and a workbench.
There was a low whistling sound and she ran outside. The remaining daylight had disappeared in the short time she was inside. She could make out Matos pulling a trailer with an inflatable rig. Faint moonlight shone across the lake, ready to silhouette them on the water.
They dragged the craft to the lakes edge and Avery unbuckled the harness. The blue vessel slipped soundlessly into the water. Matos waded in after and folded himself over the side. Avery splashed into the water and Matos pulled her up onto the boat. He passed her a paddle and they began to row.
“Any sign of drones and we go over the side,” Matos said.
She thrust the paddle into the water and rotated the handle. After a few attempts, she found a rhythm and the craft jerked forward.
They were visible for miles in all directions, vulnerable to drones using thermal detection. She couldn’t help feeling that Matos was leading them into some kind of disaster. Head down, she continued paddling. “We need to get across quick smart.”
Avery glanced back to the shore every other stroke. Eventually, she stopped looking back and concentrated on the effort of moving. Her body’s energy levels were depleted. And almost every part of her ached. Her stomach cried out in gurgles for food and her parched mouth demanded water.
“Bloodhounds.”
Without another word, Matos leapt from the boat and splashed into the water. Avery braced herself then rolled over the side. Freezing water struck her as she grabbed for the boats hull. As she came up for air, her breath was taken away. With a hand hold on the side, she kicked her legs and adjusted to the temperature.
The boat began to circle and Matos cursed. Avery kicked hard underwater until it straightened and drifted forward. Using breaststroke legs, she kicked and pushed until her strength gave out. She shouted at Matos and slowed to a stop, hanging on to the side of the boat. Matos swam around to her and grabbed the boat beside her.
“Okay?” he said.
“I need to take a break.”
In the darkness, she could see nothing but water around them. The shoreline behind them was gone and the one ahead still out of sight. Avery held tighter to the boat.
“Let’s get back on board,” he said.
Using Matos’ body as a ladder, she climbed over the side and flopped on the deck. Water pooled around her stiff cold body. Matos hauled himself over and slapped down next to her.
Breathing hard, she lay shivering with waves of fatigue rolling over her. The boat rocked gently on the water and for a moment she dozed. Matos shook her and pushed an oar into her hand. She took her place at the starboard bow and began
to paddle.
There was a scrape of hull against land and she blew out a breath. Matching Matos’ frantic paddling until the boat wedged onto land. He jumped out and began pulling the boat to shore. Avery rolled into the cold water and pushed.
They slapped onto the shore and staggered into the trees. There was no trace of pursuit on the water or lights on the far bank. She followed Matos between the trees until he stopped in front of a house.
“Anywhere under cover,” she said.
A rotten smell belched out towards them as Matos kicked open the door. Avery covered her nose and shook her head, dragging herself around the house towards a detached garage.
She pulled open the door and gave a gentle sniff. Flicked on a torch and scanned the interior. The garage was rectangular shaped with a battered grey SUV filling half of the concrete floor. Garden furniture, boxes and tools lay scattered on the remaining floor space. Matos came up behind her and closed the door.
Shivering and sniffing, she searched the boxes for clothes. Thick brown blankets and white sheets were wedged into a large box. Normally she would have thrown them in the trash, but tonight they were heaven sent.
She stripped off her clothes and hung them on plastic chairs. Dried her body with an old towel then wrapped around a sheet and blanket.
The SUVs rear seats folded down and created a double bed. They emptied the trunk before Avery threw down the remaining blankets to form a Mattress.
Matos stripped off his jacket and T shirt, drying himself on the used towel. Kicking off his boots and peeling down his combat pants. He climbed in beside her and pulled down the door. They huddled together shivering, sharing body warmth under the blankets.
“Damn,” Matos breathed. “That was close.”
She gave a grunt of acknowledgment then drifted off to sleep.
A beam of light woke her, shining through the roof and onto the vehicle window. A throaty pigeon warble, gentle flapping and a spinning ventilation fan made the garage seem alive. She opened the passenger door and rolled to her feet. Muscles aching and stiff, her body screamed for more rest as she stood.
Matos stood framed in the doorway, staring out across the lake.
“Any movement?” She asked, climbing into her cold damp tracksuit. Its pungent aroma would be good camouflage in abandoned houses.
Eximus Page 23
