by Tasha Black
Could he do that?
There was only one way to find out, and the hollow feeling in his heart had him not caring what would happen if he failed.
West walked slowly away from the fence, pulling the balaclava into place over his head. After a dozen steps, he stopped and turned.
He took a deep breath to focus, then he ran at top speed toward the fence. An instant before crashing through it, he leapt.
Tucking his knees, West watched the razor wire sail by below him, barely scraping the sole of one shoe.
He hit the ground and rolled, coming to rest on his back.
The night sky had a pinkish cast through the infrared eye.
He tried to sit up.
Nothing happened.
He was glitching again, unable to move any of his enhanced limbs, and right on the heels of the last time.
It was getting worse.
One day, he would glitch and never move again. Maybe today.
He stared back up at the stars as a low growl rumbled a few feet away, followed by the rustle of something moving toward him in the deep grass.
32
Jessica Cross sat at the dining room table, putting the finishing touches on her gift to West.
The Cross family was poor, like, epically so. Coming up with money for presents wasn’t exactly an everyday thing.
But West had thrown her his credit card the other day and told her to hook him up with some superhero stuff.
Then he’d stopped and said over his shoulder that she should spend a couple hundred bucks on herself too, since she was working for him now.
“Thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” she’d volleyed back. “But, I’m pretty sure you’re working for me.”
He’d only chuckled on his way out the door.
Jess had never had so much money at her disposal before.
Of course, she had gone straight to the internet auctions for old comics and began writing down lists of what she could get. God, West was awesome! Everything was so much fun now because of him.
As a kid in a chair, Jess didn’t exactly have the madcap social life you’d expect for a girl her age. She didn’t even go to school anymore because her mom was afraid of a kid “with your challenges” being on the streets to get there, now that crime was so rampant. She had to take internet high school classes like a shut-in. On the plus side, she was going to graduate way early.
Jess tried to enjoy things as they were. But it was hard to live the boring indoor life, day in and day out. Being locked up in the tower wasn’t as busy as the Rapunzel chick in that animated movie made it out to be.
But now…
Now she was in a constant rush of plans for West. For an old guy, he was really funny, too. It was good to have a friend, even if he was her sister’s quasi-boyfriend.
Briefly, Jess allowed herself to wonder if they’d done it. But just as quickly, she knew that of course they hadn’t, Cord would never. And the whole idea was repugnant, so she pushed it out of her mind.
She thought of West again and how hilarious it had been the day she’d seen him on TV, crashing through that store window. Unlike most grown-ups, he hadn’t tried to deny it was him, or tell her she didn’t understand or that she’d better not say anything to anyone. In fact, West had never given her the speech about how no one could know about his nighttime activities, and how important it was for her to keep the secret they shared.
He had just… trusted her.
He was great, totally great.
Except…
Except for the part where he hadn’t given her back her legs.
And why? His worked great. Better than great.
If West wanted to, he could give her back a normal life.
And he would eventually. Wouldn’t he?
Suddenly, Jess felt guilty.
If West didn’t want to spend a hundred million bucks on legs for her yet, he didn’t have to. He already made her laugh, and he’d given her a dream job, helping him become a superhero.
More than anything, she just wanted to be good at that job.
Which meant her “found money” would have to be used as a gift.
She’d shivered a little with glee she first thought of the idea, and how he would react when he saw it. It took patience and coordination. She’d started with the research, then acquired the materials and found some artisan online to put it all together.
But now that it was completed, and in far less time than she’d first anticipated, she was trembling with excitement.
She was also anxious to finish wrapping it before anyone came home.
And at the same time, she didn’t know how she would wait even one more minute to show it to West.
She was tying the bow on the top of the box when the door opened.
“Jess?” Cord called out from the front hall.
“In here,” Jess yelled back.
Cord popped her head in.
“You shouldn’t have,” she teased when she saw the gift.
“It’s not for you,” Jess said, returning her attention to the bow, which was nearly, but not perfectly, even. “It’s for West.”
Cord sat down next to her.
“You’re really… into West, huh?” Cord asked sympathetically.
What the—oh.
“Ew, gross, Cordelia! He’s old,” Jess replied immediately. “I just think he’s cool to hang out with. You’re the one that’s supposed to be into him that way.”
“I am,” Cord said, sounding relieved and confused at the same time.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Jess retorted.
“It’s complicated,” Cord sighed.
Everything always was with Cord. She tried too hard to please everyone, and never left time for herself.
“It won’t be complicated for long,” Jess warned her. “If you keep pushing him away.”
“You’d like him to stick around,” Cord observed. “It seems like you two are thick as thieves,”
Jess considered.
She didn’t want to tell Cordelia about their new hobby. That was probably West’s call. She knew he would, eventually. But for now, she was happy to have it be just between them.
Was that selfish?
“We have some laughs,” Jess said. “I like that he doesn’t treat me any differently because of my disability, or talk down to me like I’m a kid, or try to avoid stuff by saying it’s complicated.”
She raised an eyebrow at Cord, who frowned at the jab.
“I just…”
“What?” Cord asked.
“I just thought I’d be going to Med Pros for new legs by now,” Jess admitted, hating herself for bringing it up, and for making the delay real by acknowledging it. “I mean, I get it. He doesn’t have any control over how long it’s going to take to get the place up and running again. And I’ve waited this long. I just wish I had a better timeline than ‘not yet.’ But West doesn’t want to talk about Med Pros at all. He gets kinda weird whenever I mention it.”
She looked up to check in with her big sister, who was a level-headed person and had always protected Jess - sometimes even from her own bad ideas. She expected Cord to smile and pat her shoulder and explain that it was normal for such a thing to take this amount of time, and that West would never let her down.
Instead, Cordelia said nothing. But she had that telltale stubborn set to her chin.
“Set your alarm,” Cordelia said sternly. “You’re coming to work with me tomorrow.”
33
Dalton sat on the metal table with the beast prickling just under his skin.
This would be his only chance. He struggled to hold himself in check until the time was right.
His limbs began to shake under the strain. Just a tremor at first, growing into violent spasms within the span of a few raspy breaths.
His mouth hung open, a single bead of drool stretching its way down his chin.
“Dr. Castillo,” the freckled tech quavered. “We need a sedative here!”<
br />
The doctor dropped the tablet on the stainless steel counter and grabbed a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. He loaded the contents into the syringe as he approached.
“Hold him steady!” he instructed the tech.
Dalton figured he had one minute before the tablet timed out and needed a passcode to be opened again. He had to be quick.
The tech held Dalton’s left arm down with both hands, trying to keep it steady. He could have tossed the tech across the room like a rag doll, but he let the kid think he was in control.
As the doctor leaned in with the needle, Dalton reached across with his free hand and grabbed the doctor’s wrist hard enough to make him gasp.
He redirected the incoming needle into the arm of the freckled tech, and depressed the plunger.
The poor kid’s eyes went wide in shock, then immediately glazed over.
Dalton felt the hands holding him down go limp.
Immediately, he yanked on the doctor’s arm, pulling the man on top of the pile, and sending all three of them tumbling off the far side of the table.
Out of view of the security camera.
Thirty seconds.
Dalton secured a choke hold on the doctor, stripping off the man’s white coat as he faded from consciousness.
As soon as the tension was gone from the man’s body, Dalton slipped on his lab coat.
It was too small. For terrible moment, he thought it wasn’t going to fit. Then at last, the fabric tore a bit and slid on.
Ten seconds.
Dalton stood, snatching the glasses off Dr. Castillo’s face and slipping them onto his own as he did.
He darted for the tablet, trying to keep his back to the camera as much as possible. His makeshift disguise wouldn’t fool anyone up close. Dalton was counting on the low quality image of the security camera to help.
He picked up the tablet and had a moment of panic. It was off.
He touched it. No, the screen had just dimmed. It came to life in his hand. He backed out of the medical program and started searching, apps flashing past a mile a minute.
The intercom popped.
“Everything okay in there, Dr. Castillo?” a tinny voice asked.
“Ok,” Dalton answered, doing his best to imitate the doctor’s island accent. “Patient is sedated. We’re good here.”
“Roger that,” the voice said. “We’ll send a clean-up crew your way.”
No, no, no.
Dalton wanted to argue, but that would raise flags.
“Thanks,” he replied unhurriedly.
He would just have to work fast.
He’d finally uncovered the collar control protocol. To his frustration, it seemed the good doctor didn’t have the security clearance to access it.
He moved on quickly.
Medical records.
Dabney, Daden, Daemon, there it was, Dalton… .
He selected his own file. Delete all.
Poof.
There was so much more he wanted to see. But he needed to move, before the cleaning crew arrived.
One more thing. A long shot.
Deployment orders.
He held his breath, wondering if that kind of access was really here in his hands.
The app opened in a flash. The doc’s clearance held up. It made sense. The doctor would need to know what he was preparing his patients for.
The folder popped open to reveal a map and a tentative timeline.
Edward Dalton was not a man who was easily shocked, but what he saw hit him like a bucket of ice water.
He stared for a second, making sure he had the right document.
There was no mistake.
Shuffling boots in the hall outside snapped him back to himself. He heard two soldiers, talking casually as they approached. So he hadn’t raised any suspicion.
That was about to change.
One of the soldiers swiped a security card and the door beeped and unlocked. A swirl of familiar scents identified the men before the door could open.
Of course, both of them had been put on clean up duty as a direct result of their over-exuberance dealing with him.
The beast inside Dalton howled in satisfaction.
“Heard you had some excitement in here, Doc,” the first man said as he stepped in, bladed metal prosthetic clicking on the tile floor.
Gibson, the bastard that had attacked him in his own apartment. The one who had brought him here.
Before Gibson had even spared him a glance, Dalton smashed the man’s head with the tablet, shattering the device.
It wasn’t like he could take it with him anyway.
Gibson collapsed unceremoniously.
His partner stepped in.
“What the hell?” boomed a Russian accent.
The big bear. Anatoly Rostov. The one who shot him.
Rostov’s eyes went wide at the sight of Dalton.
Dalton felt an involuntary smile spread across his face.
“And here I thought I was going to have to leave without saying goodbye,” he said.
The man didn’t have his shotgun this time. Instead, Anatoly’s hand went for the stun gun on his belt.
Dalton struck like a snake, delivering a nerve shot to the man’s inner arm, just above the elbow.
Anatoly’s big hand spasmed, as the stun gun tumbled to the floor and landed with a loud clatter.
Angry now, Rostov swung wildly with his other hand.
Dalton sidestepped and parried the blow with his right hand, redirecting the force of the punch as he brought up his left elbow.
He could hear the small bones of Anatoly’s hand crunch as they made contact with the larger, stronger bones of Dalton’s elbow.
Both of Anatoly’s hands hung at his sides now, limp and useless.
Dalton could see the rage building in the Russian’s eyes. There was no more time to fool around. Dalton needed to end this.
“What’s it gonna be?” he teased the bigger man. “You can try to kick me if you want. Just be sure you pick your least favorite leg. It’s not going to work right for a while when I’m done.”
His goading worked.
Rage overcame Rostov, and he lowered his head to charge. If he tackled Dalton, it would all be over. Anatoly would hold him there until backup arrived.
Dalton didn’t even consider moving out of the way, the Russian would be expecting that. Instead, he thrust forward, bringing his knee in front of him and pushing hard with the other leg.
The shock as his knee made contact with Rostov’s head reverberated through Dalton’s whole body.
But even that wasn’t enough to stop the big man’s forward momentum.
For a scary second, Dalton waited for them both to go tumbling down.
But Anatoly was out on his feet.
Dalton let the enormous body slump to the floor.
Before the dust had settled, he bolted for the door, pausing briefly to grab the walkie-talkie as he stepped over Gibson, still lying in the doorway.
In seconds, he was in the open air, running toward the perimeter and freedom.
A voice squawked on the walkie.
“Lt. Sterling, Ma’am, we have a situation in medical.”
“Report,” she replied coolly.
“It appears Sgt. Dalton has taken out a few of our men and made a break for it,” the voice explained.
There was a static-filled pause.
He thought he heard a fraction of a sigh from Sterling.
“Gather a detachment and pursue,” she ordered.
It wouldn’t matter, Dalton was seconds away from the fence.
“Proceed with caution,” she continued, expressionless, “non-lethal force only. He won’t get far, if he comes within five feet of the perimeter, his collar will activate.”
Dalton skidded to a halt, the fence directly in front of him.
Did she know he was listening? Was she bluffing to scare him back? Or was she warning him to give him an advantage?
Dalton c
ouldn’t risk it. He took off toward the cover of the tall grass field.
He needed to regroup and formulate a plan.
34
West had to count out the seconds to almost two full minutes before the sensation had come back into his legs, allowing him to stand.
The worst glitch yet.
He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Part of him thought he might have been better off motionless on the ground. At least then he wouldn’t have seen them coming.
Seven, maybe eight of the biggest dogs he’d ever seen had taken up a perimeter around him. Their heads, almost as tall as his own, easily cleared the tall grass. They waited, black shadows in the darkness.
Of course, he could see them just fine, thanks to his new eye, but he was pretty sure they didn’t know that.
They were taking no real pains to hide among the tall grass and flowers.
Instead they had fallen into a sort of…
If West hadn’t known any better he would have said they had fallen into a formation.
He was in a tough spot.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, but this was not it.
The other night, something had slashed at his leg, with a blade. He’d been thinking that he’d be up against something along the lines of guards with night vision goggles.
He wasn’t prepared to fight enormous animals.
Dalton is in one of those buildings. I’m not leaving without my friend.
At least the first part of his plan should have the same effect, regardless of species.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, canister-shaped object.
A flash grenade.
It really was amazing what you could order online these days. Jess had handed a box of these to him with a pretty smug you’re welcome look on her face.
Now his mind was screaming the thank you she had richly deserved.
The dogs fixed their stances. They were equidistant from one another in a V-shape around him.
Jesus.
West pulled the pin and rolled the grenade toward the apex of the beastly formation.
Mallory had assured him that the new eye would filter out any sudden spikes in light level, but West didn’t want to put that to the test.
