Deadland Drifter: A Scifi Thriller

by J. N. Chaney

  The two had taken their disagreement as far from the farmhouse as possible, most likely to keep the rest of the organization from learning of their dispute, though there was no question that Cypher’s voice carried to the farmhouse and probably a distance beyond. Burner had to be careful not only to not be discovered by the men in front of him, but also by any of the terrorists who might come from the farmhouse to investigate the noise. He found a spot at the edge of the barn that was well covered by shadow and disappeared into it.

  Cypher was stomping his feet like a child throwing a tantrum for not getting to play with his favorite toy. “You had no right. Chain of command exists for a reason!”

  Killington’s face was passive, like that of a parent who had seen the tantrum before and was not impressed. “Well, you’re not stepping up. You’re not adapting to the changing circumstances. It’s my job as the second-in-command to pick up the slack.”

  Suddenly, Cypher’s shouting and stomping stopped. He looked Killington dead in the eyes, then he lowered his voice and in an icy tone caused the large soldier to show more nervousness than all the screaming had. “You’re saying I’m unfit to lead.”

  The sound of the shouting outside was enough to rouse all the sleeping guys inside the farmhouse. They ambled over the windows to try and get a view of what was going on, but there was nothing in sight.

  “Is that Cypher?” Reginald asked as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Who’s he screaming at?”

  Eggie looked around and did a quick head count. “Maybe Stack came back and Cypher is chewing him out for being out all night. Only other one not here is Killington, and I don’t think Cypher would talk to him like that, do you?”

  Cade did. After all, he was partly responsible for the situation that Cypher was so furious about. He just hoped Killington kept that part to himself.

  He buried his head back in the analysis he was working on.

  “Say it.” Cypher began to pace, circling around Killington like a predator closing in on a wounded animal. “Say that I’m unfit to lead.”

  Burner could see the muscles in Killington’s arm’s flex as he prepared for the possibility of violence. “That’s not what I meant. But I’m your second. It’s also my job to lead.”

  “Is it your job to second guess me?” Cypher’s voice cut through the air. “Was it your job to plan things without running them by me? Was it your job to send Stack, our most valuable asset, back into certain death if he’s discovered? You think he won’t talk if he’s caught? And then what? Where does it leave us? The mission? Did you even think of that? What makes you think it was worth finishing the admiral under those circumstances?”

  Burner had to stop himself from shouting an expletive and giving away his location. Stack must have gone back to assassinate the admiral. That was the secret mission that Killington had sent him on last night. Stack would not only have access to the admiral’s schedule, he would have access to the admiral himself. What was stopping him from slipping poison in his tea, or tampering with the wiring on his vehicle? The admiral was completely unprepared for it. And they had just let him go.

  Killington squared off, planting his feet firmly. “’Finish’ implies we even got close. The last plan was a complete failure.”

  The older man growled, his stature tense with rage. He launched violently at the much larger soldier.

  At first glance, this seemed to be an incredibly poor choice on Cypher’s part. He was not only smaller and older, but Killington carried himself with the assurance of someone at least proficient in hand-to hand combat. Burner expected the fight to be resolved quickly.

  He was right about that, but wrong about the outcome.

  Killington backed up a step and slipped to the side as Cypher charged. Then he leaned back, formed a fist, and arced his arm in the form of a perfectly thrown right hook. A single shot like that would lay flat most opponents, and this one had the proper aim to connect directly with the left side of Cypher’s face.

  Instead of bowing or crumpling from the impact, Cypher charged into it, through it, shaking it off like he had been slapped by a small child. He rushed until he was close enough to Killington for them to feel each other’s breaths. Then he laid into him with a furious assault of punches and jabs.

  Cypher attacked without mercy, striking Killington repeatedly in the face, chin, stomach, and chest. The bigger man tried to retreat and get himself back in a proper fighting stance, but within moments he had been knocked again, this time into a daze. His attempts at defense devolved into trying to protect his face with his arms, all pretense of fighting back completely forgotten.

  A punch to the gut doubled the soldier over, forcing him down to Cypher’s height. Cypher used the opportunity to crack his forehead against his subordinate’s face. The surprise headbutt sent Killington sprawling to the ground. His eyes glazed over as his mind fought to maintain consciousness. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose, and swelling was already appearing around his eyes.

  A knife appeared in Cypher’s hands so quickly that Burner wasn’t positive where it had come from. He leaped atop the other man’s sprawled form and brought his knife down to his throat.

  Burner grimaced as he prepared for the spray of blood. He had seen plenty of death in his day. There were few methods of execution that produced the spray of blood you got when you pierced the carotid artery.

  He blinked and then realized that both men were still.

  No arterial spray.

  Burner saw that Cypher had stopped the knife right before it had pierced the soldier’s throat. He held it there, pressed close enough that it was probably drawing blood, though Burner couldn’t be sure at this distance.

  “Explain it all to me,” Cypher commanded.

  Killington spoke softly, weakly, so low that Cypher had to lean even further in to make out what was said. The soldier’s position on the ground, mixed with the blood around his mouth, coupled with the half-light, further impeded Burner’s ability to read his lips.

  He managed to pick up only a few things from the mumbled explanation that Killington gave. Something about Stack “going back to the ship” in order to get the job done. At the end, he declared, slightly louder, that “a well-placed missile means we don’t even need to show up there.”

  Cypher shook his head while rising, removing the blade from Killington’s throat. “No, no, no. That defeats the point. We need to show up to make the video. That is the key to all of this! The message, not the action, and without the video, how do we spread that message?”

  The knife disappeared and Cypher turned back to his beaten subordinate, seemingly in control of himself once again. He did not, Burner noticed, offer to help Killington as the large man struggled back to his feet. “Call it off, Killington.”

  Killington flinched, nervous about defying the violent man in front of him. “I can’t. It’s too late. There’s no way.”

  Cypher didn’t seem bothered. “Yes, you can. You just need to be properly motivated.” He moved toward Killington again, causing him to flinch, but only put a hand on the beaten man’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.”

  He turned and spat, decorating another patch of ground with red. Cypher wiped the remaining blood from his mouth. “Damn, think you chipped a tooth. Perhaps we should have kept that dentist around after all.”

  With that he began to walk back toward the farmhouse. Killington hesitated, unsteady on his feet. Then he followed.

  It had been a chilling display. Nobody actually died, but it had become clear that the man he was dealing with was not stable. This was not the kind of terrorist you could defeat by making it clear that their goals could not be accomplished. He would continue, heedless of his life or the life of those who work for him. The Pharbis station could be wall-to-wall Union military and he would still try to fight his way to plant the explosives.

  For him, it was more about power and control than about the mission. His s
peeches were just a means to end, a justification. What Burner had mistaken for passion was actually an expression of dominance. He beat his second-in-command bloody and made him certain that he was about to be killed, just to reassert his authority, to let him know what happened to those who screwed with him.

  There was no trick for dealing with this kind of man. No section in any training manual that advised a proper course, no lesson he could pull from his years of experience, no instinct he had developed that would subconsciously lead him in the right direction. This type was unpredictable, and no two ever responded the same way.

  He would just have to use his best judgement and hope that was enough.

  Sticking to the shadows of the early morning light, Burner crept back to the barn to confer with Sara.

  FARM HOUSE, TRION CITY OUTSKIRTS, DEMETER

  Shortly after the shouting stopped, Cypher returned to the farmhouse. He was looking disheveled and sporting a new shiner on his left side, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. Killington followed shortly after, looking much worse. He was bloody, dirty, and generally seemed off-balance. He excused himself to the bathroom to clean himself up.

  No one dared to ask what was going on. If anything, they just avoided eye contact as they went about their morning tasks.

  Cypher walked back to the others, not even bothering to straighten his suit, and took a seat at his station. He got back to work as if nothing had happened. From his own station, Cade couldn’t help but steal a glance at their leader. Cypher didn’t seem to be paying him any mind, which Cade hoped meant that Killington had kept his role in the plot secret. Cade quite disliked pain and did not want to take a beatdown of his own.

  Killington returned a few minutes later in a fresh outfit and with the cuts on his face freshly bandaged. For a moment, it seemed like normalcy was going to return to them and this dark chapter was going to be left in their past. People were going about their jobs, professionalism was restored, and no one seemed ready to cut anyone else’s throat.

  That all lasted until Eggie, who’d always had a bad habit of bringing up the worst topics, brought up the worst topic. “Where is Stack? Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

  Cypher sent a steely glare in Killington’s direction, who did his best to pretend not to notice.

  Reginald took up the foolish topic. “That is strange. You think he’s selling us out?”

  Eggie snorted. “Wouldn’t put it past the rat bastard. We hit a rough patch, and the traitor turns traitor. It’s no surprise. He’s probably telling his Union buddies all about us right now, framing it like he’s the big hero who bravely infiltrated the terrorists.”

  To Cade’s surprise, Cypher snapped at Eggie. “I sent Stack on a special mission, one that was need-to-know only, and you did not need to know. All you need to understand right now is that he is still working with us on an important task.”

  Cade couldn’t help peeling his eyes from the screen and glancing up at Cypher. He knew the truth, because he was the one who had helped find the next window so Stack could take it. And that had all been behind Cypher’s back. Was Cypher taking responsibility now because he thought it was a good idea? Based on the state of Killington’s face, and Cypher’s glare at him, that didn’t seem to be the case.

  Maybe Cypher didn’t want to admit that someone had defied him. It might inspire others to do the same, and that was a lot of faces to beat in. A lot of face to lose too.

  Perhaps Cade should show up to work in a suit next time. Just to be respectful.

  There was still some muttering about trusting this Union guy to not betray them to his friends, but it seemed nobody wanted to voice that loud enough for Cypher to hear.

  Cade managed to take his eyes off of Cypher and focus them back on his screen just as the leader looked over in his direction.

  Cypher and Killington still had to refine the details of the plan. Now that Stack wasn’t there to do his original job, a fact that still made Cypher’s blood boil, things needed to change. Fortunately, he and Killington had all morning to rethink it. The others already knew their roles, and the first steps at least would be the same.

  They spent the better part of their morning discussing possible changes to the plan, with Cypher kindly reminding Killington every few minutes that every change they had to make was entirely his fault. Killington was smart enough not to react. Cypher was adequately satisfied that order had been restored.

  The broad strokes of a new plan were ironed out—a plan that would function no matter what Stack did or fools like Burner tried to accomplish. All that was left was to enter the changes into the master plan datapad.

  Today was the day. Nothing could get in their way now.

  25

  Barn, Unknown Location, Trion City Outskirts, Demeter

  Back in the relative safety of the barn, Burner recounted to Sara everything he had seen between the terrorist leader and his second-in-command. Sara was as disturbed as he had been about the implications of Cypher’s true character.

  He exhaled in frustration as he shifted his feet on the sandy floor. “I was hoping the small hours of the dawn would be our best to sneak around the farmhouse unobstructed.” Burner didn’t have to explain that a night of heavy drinking was usually followed by a deep sleep during the dawn hours. “But that argument probably woke the whole house up. I don’t think we’re going to get a better chance before they put their plan in motion, though. If we’re lucky, the fact that they’ve been forced to get up so early will make them too groggy to notice our presence.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You want to go into a house filled with dangerous and heavily armed terrorists while they are awake… and snoop around?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  After thinking about it for a moment, Sara sighed and shook her head. “Damn, I don’t. Guess sneaking around a terrorist stronghold while it’s occupied it is.”

  The first problem was going to be avoiding any cameras. They had kept clear of any entrances to the farmhouse thus far, so they hadn’t been a problem, but Burner had noted several others around the property. He might be able to disable them, but if anyone was monitoring the feeds, they would notice the interruption.

  He determined a power flicker was their best bet. This far from civilization, all the tech in this place must be powered by private generators, and small spikes and dips were common occurrences with generators, particularly when a heavy load was placed on them. Based on the tech he had seen from the terrorists so far, he was confident that was the case.

  All he needed was to find something outside that the generator was powering that wasn’t in the view of the cameras. Then he remembered the barn was hooked up with lighting. That was even better. Since the lights in the barn seemed old it was likely that the terrorists hadn’t installed them themselves. That meant it wasn’t likely to have the same redundancies to protect the generator.

  Burner cut a hole in the wood next to one of the lights and carefully disconnected one of the wires. He stripped the edge of the wire and changed a few of the inner bits around. A spark provided by his knife and the battery of one of his devices was all he needed to create feedback that would cause a surge in the connected generator.

  They would have to be quick now. The power would only flicker for a few seconds, just enough to cause the security systems to have to reboot. If the person who set them up knew what they were doing, the boot cycle would take less than a minute. Unfortunately, that meant that Burner couldn’t be that stealthy on their way to the farmhouse. They kept low and hoped that no one chose to look out the window at that moment.

  It was that rush that nearly caused them to bump right into one of the terrorists. Burner and Sara walked through the back door, assuming there would be fewer people back there, and found the frizzy haired man they had named Blabbermouth standing with his back to them. He turned just as Burner and Sara ducked into the next room.

  “Hey, Eggie, did you leave the door open again?”
They heard Blabbermouth walk to the back door to shut it. “Dickhead! Cade says it sets the whole security system off.” His words were slurred. At least that meant that he was likely not going to be up for much longer.

  The one they called Horndog walked past the room Burner and Sara were hiding out in. “I don’t know. Maybe. What’s the big deal? It’s always cold as balls in here, Reggie. Wouldn’t hurt to get some fresh air.”

  “Reginald.” The half-drunk man’s voice had an edge to it.

  “Eh?”

  “Reginald, not Reggie. Don’t call me Reggie, man. That was the name of the street punk who dealt drugs and wasn’t going to accomplish anything besides winding up in an early grave. I put that person behind me. It’s Reginald now.”

  The other man sniffed. “Seems a little fucked up that you all can call me Eggie but I can’t call you what I want.”

  As enthralling as the ensuing argument about nicknames would surely prove to be, Burner and Sara had more important things to accomplish.

  The room they had ducked into, some kind of storeroom for spare electronic components, had another exit, which they took into a narrow hallway. There was no real way to tell what direction they needed to go, or how what they were looking for would manifest. They would know it when they saw it. So, they took a methodical approach to exploration. While keeping a careful eye out for any of the farmhouse’s occupants, they scanned each room they came across for anything that might tell them something.

  There was nothing in back rooms, which seemed to be mostly storage, so they would have to take the gamble of heading closer to the front of the building.