by A. G. Taylor
“You won’t do it,” Hack replied. “You need us for something. You won’t let May die.”
“Do you really want to put that to the test?”
The beeps increased in speed. Hack held Good’s gaze, trying to work out if he was bluffing or not. The beeps started to come so close together, they were almost a continuous tone…
Hack snatched the collar and placed it around his neck. The device locked shut with a magnetic click at the back. The collar gave the activation sound and in response the device around May’s throat ceased beeping. Hack breathed a sigh of relief. Marlon Good regarded him with a triumphant little glint in his eyes.
He likes to play cruel games, Hack thought. And he likes to win.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Good said, giving Hack a slap on the shoulder. “You should feel privileged. You’re wearing a prisoner containment system that cost about half a billion dollars to develop. State of the art. How’s that for expensive neckwear?”
Hack ran a finger around the edge of the collar. The device was lightweight, but he could tell that over time the heat of the island would make it intensely irritating to wear. He felt round the back to the box-like protuberance. His fingertips brushed the magnetic lock.
“Few things you should know about the collar,” Good said conversationally as he closed the case and put it back in the cabinet. “Don’t even think about tampering with it – either with your mind or your hands. Try to take it off, or trigger one of the thousand anti-removal sensors, and the countdown begins. For both you and May. Two seconds to boom-time.”
Hack lowered his hand from the collar.
“You might think you can bypass the security,” Good went on, “but bear in mind it’s been designed to hold someone with just such a skill as your own. Don’t feel self-conscious about wearing it, soon everyone will have one. Anyone who needs one, that is.” Good giggled, as if at some private joke.
“So how do we take them off?” Hack asked.
“You don’t,” Good replied. “Ever. Wherever you go, it goes. The collars work worldwide. I have my own dedicated satellite network in place to monitor them.” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a rectangular silver object on a chain. “This is the only key. It’s also a trigger.”
Good pressed something on the side of the key and both Hack’s and May’s collars started to beep. He pressed it again and they stopped.
“Get the picture? You do as you’re told or it’s goodbye, sweet neck.”
Hack regarded Marlon Good with real hatred as the man replaced the key in his shirt. The collar was a massive complication to any escape plan. Hack’s mind raced. What were the odds of rushing Good right now? Blow up the electronics, grab the key, get the collars off. He glanced around at the two soldiers, barely visible in the darkness at the edge of the square. Take them out somehow. Then he remembered the snipers above.
Impossible.
Then another thought occurred to Hack. Marlon Good had become even more animated than normal when describing the collars and how they worked. He wanted to show them off. Like a child with a new toy. And Marlon Good clearly enjoyed playing with his toys. He might need May and Hack for whatever plot he and Major Bright had hatched, but eventually he would want to see the collars in action. He’d trigger them before he took them off his prisoners – Hack was certain of it.
The realization made his blood run cold.
“One last thing,” Good said. “The collars are linked wirelessly. If they ever get more than a kilometre apart… boom! Should give you enough wriggle room to move about the camp, but don’t think about taking any solo jaunts around the island. An extra incentive in case one of you decides to make a break for it alone.”
Hack shook his head with disgust. “I’d never leave May with you monsters.”
“Very admirable,” a new voice said.
Both Hack and Marlon Good turned as the towering figure of Major Bright walked out of the darkness. He wore a pristine black and gold uniform – the same colours as his old HIDRA special forces, but a new design for a new army. One of his own making. An insignia on the side showed a serpent coiled around a Kalashnikov rifle. Hack recognized the hard, angular features and cropped hair revealing a network of old skull scars from the pictures Jonesey had shown him. Now, however, the lower right side of Bright’s face was covered with scaly, black skin – like something was spreading over his body. If anything, it made his appearance more threatening and Hack found himself taking an involuntary step back. Even the crazy Marlon Good seemed to shrink a little in stature as the monolithic military man entered the light.
Major Bright smiled, as if pleased by their reaction. He clapped his giant hands together, creating a sound that echoed through the darkened hangar.
“Right. When do we begin?”
15
Two hundred kilometres from the island of Oshino, Sarah engaged full stealth mode. The jet, always invisible to radar, switched on anti-detection systems designed to cloak its heat, motion and electronic signatures. Light distortion cells built into the fuselage became operational, making it all but invisible to the naked eye as well. Autopilot disengage, Sarah ordered and took the stick. She needed to be in full control for the final approach.
“Let’s take a better look at where we’re headed,” Commander Craig said as he eased himself into the co-pilot’s chair. He touched a series of controls and a blue-tinted holographic image of the island appeared between them. Craig reached up and tapped the image with his index finger – it responded with a slow spin, revealing a jungle terrain peppered with a few mountains and rivers. Robert appeared at Craig’s shoulder.
“There’s Major Bright’s camp,” Craig said. He touched the area around the camp and it zoomed in, revealing buildings, fences and a runway to the south.
“How accurate is this?” Sarah asked.
“Modelled around existing maps and real-time satellite data fed directly to the jet,” the commander responded. “Pretty accurate, I’d say.”
“Well, there’s a runway,” she said, “but it’s too close to the camp to land without drawing some attention to ourselves. Even in the stealth jet.”
Craig nodded his agreement. “Let’s look for another point of entry.”
He pinched and the holographic model zoomed out. He gave it another flick and it spun again.
“There!” Robert exclaimed, pointing to an area on the other side of the island as it came round.
Craig stopped the image and zoomed in. There was a cleared area in the jungle near the beach and a flat strip of land that looked very much like another runway.
“Good spot, Robert!” Craig said as he examined the site. “Must be a backup landing strip. No evidence of current use. The runway’s short and it might be in serious disrepair. Could be a dangerous landing.”
“I guess we won’t find out until we try,” Sarah said. “I’d rather put down there than on Bright’s doorstep. How far do you think it is from the camp?”
Craig rubbed his chin. “A few kilometres through the jungle.”
“Not too far,” Robert said.
“Maybe not for someone who can teleport across the island. For the rest of us it could be a hike through some very rough terrain.”
“It’s our best option,” Sarah said, settling the matter. “I’m putting us down there. Robert, go back and make sure Louise and Wei are strapped in. We land in fifteen.”
Her brother nodded and disappeared into the cabin. Craig locked the location of the second runway into the jet’s instrument landing system and a marker beacon appeared on the HUD. He closed the holomap, dimmed the cockpit lights and strapped himself into his seat.
“Great flying, Sarah,” he said. “You handle this jet like you’ve been at the stick for twenty years.”
She glanced over at him. “I had a good teacher.”
In the instrument-illuminated darkness, Craig’s face was serious. “When we reach that island we’re in the combat zone. If I say
we abort the mission, we abort – no questions asked. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They sat in silence after that. Sarah took the jet down to the deck – flying less than fifty metres above the ocean. Through the window the water raced by, blacker than the night sky. A shadow appeared on the horizon – an irregular lump that could only be Oshino. The appearance of the ILS beacon, flashing on the HUD, confirmed this. Sarah sent the jet round the island in a wide arc, steering clear of the side on which Bright’s camp was situated. As the beacon came round, she angled the nose in for a direct approach, perfectly lined up with the angle of the disused runway in the jungle.
Jets, fifty per cent power down, she ordered and the plane slowed, beginning to descend…
The island approached at speed. In the darkness it became possible to make out beach and jungle…
Undercarriage.
Landing wheels extended. Suddenly they were passing over the tops of trees, dense and impenetrable…
The beacon symbol flashed on the HUD, rhythmically tracing the outline of the unlit runway, which was otherwise invisible. Sarah pushed forward on the stick and…
The jet touched down, bumping and jolting violently against the broken surface of the landing strip…
Airbrakes engage. Full reverse thrust.
There was an amazing pull as the jet came to a sudden and definite halt less than fifty metres from where the wheels had first touched – a feat impossible in any normal plane.
Engines power down, Sarah ordered. All flight systems, standby mode.
Craig touched another control and a scan showing a kilometre radius around the jet opened up. It showed no life-signs big enough to be a person in the area. Satisfied, the commander unstrapped himself from his seat, picked up the machine gun and moved to the cockpit door.
“It’s clear. Let’s not hang around.”
Sarah followed him through to the dimmed interior of the main cabin where Robert, Louise and Wei were preparing to exit the plane.
“Okay,” Craig said, looking round them all with a don’t mess with me expression, “when we set foot outside this jet you follow my lead. Walk where I walk. Stop when I stop.”
Robert protested, “Why can’t I just teleport directly into the camp? I can grab Hack and we’ll be out of here.”
Craig shook his head. “Too risky. We don’t know the kid’s exact location or enough about the camp defences. You could teleport right into a group of guards.”
Sarah nodded. “He’s right, Robert. We need to be careful.”
For once her brother didn’t argue. They each grabbed their backpacks. Louise and Wei were already at the exit door, eager to get outside after being cooped up in the jet for hours. Craig walked over, operated the hatch and went out first.
It was approaching midnight, but the air was still amazingly warm and humid. Sarah felt the sweat prickling her skin within seconds of stepping off the jet.
“Let’s move,” Craig ordered, and started off across towards the treeline at a half-run, closely followed by Robert, Louise and Wei. Sarah paused only to give a final command to the jet.
Defensive systems engage.
The ramp retracted into the jet and the door closed. Sarah moved away as motion detectors linked to gun turrets concealed by the undercarriage went operational. In the darkness, the jet was practically invisible up to a few metres away, but anyone who did go snooping around would get a nasty shock. Satisfied their way off the island was as safe as she could make it, Sarah ran off after the others.
Running, as it turned out, was not an easy task in the intense humidity of the island night. By the time Sarah reached the trees, she was panting as if she’d run a full kilometre. She looked at the jungle ahead – uneven ground, vines draped at head-height and roots underfoot – and understood that a few kilometres’ hike was going to be quite an undertaking. Maybe Robert’s instinct about teleporting to the camp hadn’t been so bad after all – at least they could get closer. She mentally projected ahead, scanning for the camp to the north of the island and sensed…
Nothing.
With a frown, she tried again – attempting to make contact with the minds of the soldiers in the camp or anything that would give them a handle on their target.
Again nothing.
It was as if a blanket had been thrown over her psychic senses, and she didn’t like it. It was like going suddenly deaf or blind. The closeness of the night and the jungle pressing in around them seemed instantly more threatening…
A low chuckle echoed through the back of her mind, like something she had heard before but couldn’t quite remember where…
“Sarah?” Robert said, placing a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
She came back into the moment and gave him a smile. “I’m fine. I just felt…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. There was no point in worrying him just because she got spooked by the jungle. “Just feeling a little light-headed from the heat, I guess.”
“This level of humidity will do that,” Craig said. “You’ve all got water in your packs, so keep hydrating. Walk steadily, no unnecessary movements. We’re all about conserving energy. Sarah, I take it you’ll be able to sense any enemies hanging around in the bush?”
She felt sheepish as the eyes of the others fell upon her. “Uh, maybe not at the moment. Feeling a little bit off my game. Sorry.”
If Craig was worried by this information, he didn’t show it. He removed a set of night-vision goggles from his belt and put them over his head. “Okay, I’ll take point,” he said. “Robert, bring up the rear. Louise stick close to me – be ready for action in case I need you.”
She gave him a little salute. Wei put up his hand like a kid in a classroom. “What about me?”
“Maybe not such a good idea to start a fire in a jungle,” Craig said, referring to Wei’s pyrokinetic power. Then, when he saw the boy’s face fall, added, “You can light up the camp before we leave.”
Wei grinned. Craig turned and started forward into the jungle, machine gun at the ready, brushing aside vines and moving almost silently despite the carpet of leaves and debris on the ground. The others followed, a little less expertly. As Sarah brought up the rear with Robert, she had the feeling of a presence out in the jungle once more…
Something watching…
And drawing them in…
16
“How much longer is this going to take?” Major Bright demanded as technicians weaved around the cameras and other equipment packed into the lit square. Bright regarded them with contempt – they were Good’s people, nerdy, nervous types, not soldiers. And as such, they’d needed paying ten times a soldier’s wage just to get them out of their air-conditioned offices in California and to the island.
Marlon Good, who was poring over a computer screen, didn’t look round. “It will take as long as it takes. You want to get this right, don’t you?”
“I want to get this done.” Bright began to pace the centre of the lit area.
Have patience, the Entity warned in his head. This is why we need Good. Let him do his job.
I’d like to break that runt’s neck.
The Entity chuckled. Eventually you’ll get your chance. But not tonight. Think of our plans. Think of the future.
Bright clenched and unclenched his fists. I don’t like waiting.
Don’t worry. There will be plenty for you to do soon enough.
Meaning?
The Entity chuckled again. I’ll leave it as a surprise. Something for later…
Before Bright could press further, one of the technicians gave Good the thumbs up from a computer on the other side of the square.
“Excellent,” Good said. He walked over to the medical cabinet and removed an injection tube.
“What are you doing?” Hack said, rising to his feet.
“Giving sleeping beauty something to perk her up. Just a little stimulant.”
He jabbed May’s arm with
the tube. The effect was instantaneous: with a gasp, she half-rose from the chair, eyes wide, hands gripping the armrests. Her entire body was shaking, muscles taut. Hack placed his hands on her shoulders and gently eased her back down.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said.
May looked at him wildly, but then some recognition came into her eyes. “Where…are…we?” she asked, barely able to talk because of her racing heart.
“In one of the hangars,” Hack explained. He gave her a bottle of water to drink from. “Just try to breathe. You’ve been given a shot.”
May nodded. She touched the collar around her throat and looked at Hack with alarm.
“Don’t try to take it off,” Hack warned, pointing to his matching collar. “Explosives. Mine too.”
Again May nodded her understanding. She bent forward and stared at the floor between her feet, trying to get herself under control. Hack looked up at Marlon Good accusingly.
“You’re going to kill her like this.”
“She can take it.” Good tossed the injection tube back in the cabinet as he walked to the computer, neglecting to close the cabinet doors. Hack considered for a split second – everyone at ground level was occupied with the cameras and computers, but were the snipers watching him every second? The chance had to be worth taking. He moved round so he was crouching on the other side of May, then reached back with his hand, shielding the motion as much as possible with his body. His fingers brushed the smooth metal of the injection tube. He grabbed it and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. For a moment he didn’t breathe – expecting the report of a rifle, or the heavy hand of Major Bright to close on his shoulder.
Seconds passed.
It didn’t happen.
Hack had to stop himself from laughing with relief. Now he had a weapon.
“What are they doing?” May asked, her voice barely a whisper. If she’d noticed him grab the stimulant, she didn’t show it.
“I don’t know,” Hack said, looking round, “but I think we’re about to find out what all this is about.”
