Laura’s eyes glimmered ever so slightly. She was surprised by the serious answer and the strong emotion she could see in his eyes.
“The eyes never lie. I stand corrected, Zackary . . . you aren’t a complete fool,” she said while holding back a small grin. She still wanted to put his face through a wall.
Zack let out a small chuckle. He couldn’t figure out if he was being complimented or insulted, but for some reason, he felt a little tension in the room lift ever so slightly.
“The pain of loss isn’t something one should lie about. Am I right?”
Laura smirked while she closed her eyes. “So, you want to know why I killed all those people?”
Zack lost his relaxed expression as it turned rather grave. “You don’t have to take pleasure in saying it. Murder is still murder.”
Laura ceased her smirk as she opened her eyes. “Those men were responsible for what happened to my parents.”
Zack wasted no time in getting to the point. “What happened to them?”
Lambda felt a shiver run up her back as she listened to the conversation. After all, she already knew the answer.
Laura’s lips curled into a snarl. “They made my parents commit suicide.”
Zack’s eyes shivered as his mouth fell slightly agape. He didn’t know what he found more disturbing: the horrifying reveal or Laura’s glaring eyes.
“The people I ended got what they deserved. It was only fitting for them to be turned into vegetables after what I experienced,” Laura said, acting smug.
Zack didn’t know how he wanted to respond to this. He knew that this subject was delicate. He couldn’t just let his own opinions overpower him here. Regardless, he felt sorry for Laura.
“How old are you?” Zack asked carefully.
A little puzzled by the simple question, Laura replied with little hesitance. “Twenty-one . . . why?” she asked curiously with folded arms.
Zack shook his head. “You became a murderer at eighteen.” Zack held a hand to his face. “To think you were still that young during that time,” he mumbled.
Laura’s eyes sparked with suspicion. “What did you just say?”
Zack’s eyebrows perked as he laughed halfheartedly, realizing his thoughts leaked out of his mouth. “N-nothing . . . I tend to mumble my thoughts sometimes, think nothing of it.”
Laura didn’t back off. She took a few steps toward Zack. “I know what I heard . . . you know me, but not through my record.”
She leaned over and peered into Zack’s eyes deeply. She stared so intently that even Lambda was unsure of what to do. Laura was deep in thought.
I know these quivering eyes . . .
Lambda put a hand in front of Zack’s face. “Whatever you are doing . . . I don’t like it,” she said coarsely.
Laura backed off as she stood upright again. Her thoughts were still spinning.
“You’re a curious one, that I will give you. However, I would be careful . . . too many secrets kept balled up are only destined to be unraveled,” she uttered ominously as she took her post of leaning by the door once more.
Silence hung in the room for quite some time, leaving the three individuals to their own thoughts. Had they known the truth then, perhaps some misfortune could have been avoided.
* * *
[January 7th -Washington D.C. - Cyber Research Plant (Ext) - Day]
Dead Eye grinded one of his sweet delicacies to dust between his teeth. The normal satisfaction he got from the effort was lost in festering irritation as he stared at a hologram being displayed on his Com-Linker. The image was a large grid, mapping a 3D model of Washington D.C. with flashing red words that read ‘CONNECTION LOST’.
Dead Eye rolled his eye, dropping his wrist with a grunt. He took to staring up at the clear sky. “Clever little rodent,” he muttered viciously. He tapped his Com-Linker as he began to move. He didn’t have to wait more than two rings before his call was picked up.
Dead Eye didn’t give the other end time to respond. “I hope you are handling this as per our arrangement?” he purred devilishly.
The person on the other line was not quick to respond. There appeared to be a lot of hesitance in the person’s words.
“I thought you said you would-”
“Circumstances have changed, and I’m left little time to deal with a pest of this nature given what is on my plate now. I trust you can get the job done?” he asked threateningly.
“As if I have much of a choice.”
Dead Eye smiled unpleasantly. “I’m glad you understand. I hope for a favorable outcome.”
The voice on the other line vanished without another word. Dead Eye only snickered, but his laughter was quickly stifled when his gaze fell upon the research facility he stood just outside of. As the noon sun crashed down on him, he stared on, deep in thought. Both the server meltdown and the escape of his target weren’t of as much concern anymore. He already knew, a bigger threat had appeared.
“Epsilon’s release threatens everything,” he said out loud. “At the least, this simplifies things,” he added with a sneer.
Dead Eye made another call and patiently waited for his contact to answer. He never lost his sneer as a deep voice answered on the line.
“I trust you have good news for me, Dead Eye. The Twelve haven’t been quite happy with your performance and continued delays,” boomed the deep voice.
Dead Eye put on his best voice and smile. “An unforeseen problem has arisen. The Epsilon unit has been tampered with and is in danger of escaping, just as the Lambda unit did.”
The man on the line didn’t seem to take the news well. “This . . . isn’t what I wanted to hear, Dead Eye. Am I to believe this problem has grown out of your control? Do I need to send in another of the Three-”
“That won’t be necessary. I have a good idea of how to proceed,” Dead Eye interrupted with confidence.
The voice darkened. “The Twelve’s patience is being held together by tissue paper, Dead Eye. We have a Network to run as well as our own plans. More setbacks like this-”
“I can bring in the Lambda unit and close the deal. I only need your authorization override to get what I need,” Dead Eye chimed.
The man on the line groaned, clearly unhappy as he rolled over what Dead Eye was getting at. With a sigh and aggressive tone, the man replied. “What is it you want?”
Dead Eye sneered wildly. He couldn’t help but add a little flare to his declaration.
“An army!”
[19]
Shatter
[January 7th - Washington D.C. - Lincoln Memorial - Day]
Margret was starting to regret not packing her running shoes. As she blazed past surprised groups of people with little concern for how distressed she looked, she could only keep her eyes set on her goal.
Please still be there, Marcus!
She reached her destination moments later, heaving for air and feeling like she was about to collapse. Wide-eyed tourists and locals looked at her with concerned and worried expressions. No one dared to ask her for the reason of the intensity and urgency she displayed. Everyone carefully avoided her like some kind of outcast. They were smart. There was no telling what Margret would do if anyone tried to approach her at this point. If the person wasn’t Marcus, she would see them as a possible threat. Right now, she couldn’t trust anyone.
She was still trying to catch her breath when a passerby brushed against her shoulder with considerable force. Her worn-out state made it hard for her to lash out, but when she looked up at the person’s back, she noted the familiar cut of hair.
Marcus!
Marcus didn’t stop walking, but glanced back. He lightly jerked his head as he faced forward again, urging Margret to follow.
Margret didn’t hesitate as she increased her stride subtly to catch up to him. Once alongside him, Marcus spoke. Margret didn’t like his rigid tone.
“Do you have any idea what you got m
e into?” he said harshly but quietly.
Margret felt his strong words run up her body. Marcus was never one to get angry easily, but it looked like he was one push away from a killing spree.
“I didn’t know things would turn out like this. You have to believe me,” she replied back in a low whisper.
Marcus shook his head, unsatisfied by her remark. “I’ve been one of your informants for nearly three years now, but never have I experienced this type of backlash. The amount of heat coming down on me is beyond anything you can understand. I imagine it is only catching up with you now?”
Margret nodded, not making eye contact. She felt too ashamed to look into Marcus’ eyes. It was, after all, her fault that they were now in this mess.
“I know what happened three years ago. I know who Rachiel is,” she said gravely.
Marcus’ eyes grew in surprise. “You have learned far more than I was able to dig up in the report I gave you. Where did you find this information? Who actually talked to you?”
Margret bit her lip as she thought about Karen. She tried to hide her contempt for the injustice Karen did to her, but Marcus saw through her expression quickly.
“I see. We were set up . . . weren’t we?”
Margret nodded as they passed several smiling couples with cameras. The joy in their eyes and expressions made her feel ill.
“Unlike you, Margret, I have a family that expects me to come home every night. I don’t plan on dying to protect or hide the information I know.”
Marcus’ coarse tone worried Margret. “I don’t expect you to. However, I want to find a way out of this. Surely there is an angle we can play. We could threaten to spread the information-”
“That won’t work,” Marcus said sternly. “Dead Eye and Babel are far more clever than that. Sifting information on the Network is one of their strong points. Even if we had a copy of the data, there would be no way for us to upload its content to the Network or the Web without alerting them. We could go to news channel outlets directly, but Babel’s influence runs deep. There isn’t a place they don’t have eyes these days.”
Margret clenched her fists, unsure of how to move forward. “Then what am I supposed to do?” she said desperately.
Marcus stopped and sat down on a nearby bench. Margret followed suit and watched the people come and go, unaware of her plight. Even the warm rays of the waning afternoon sun couldn’t ease the cold shivers she felt. She simply stared at the ground as she tried to think of a solution.
“Babel and the Three are resourceful, but they will surely delegate the task of dealing with you to someone else now that you have escaped,” Marcus said bleakly, not once looking over to Margret.
Margret’s heart skipped a beat. Marcus’ words created a strange tension in her chest. Still, she managed to speak with an unbroken voice, direct and forthright.
“Marcus, how did you know Dead Eye was coming for me?”
Marcus didn’t answer. Instead he moved closer to her on the bench, quickly closing the gap between them. His eyes locked with Margret’s as he stared intently into her brown irises.
“For now, you are going to have to die for me,” he whispered sharply.
Margret couldn’t get out a gasp as she felt a sudden prick on her thigh. She snapped to standing like a viper, still unsure of what just happened. Her face was contorted with confusion and anger.
Marcus was surprisingly calm. “Don’t make too much of a scene. It will be over soon.”
Fear and rage clouded her mind as Margret tried to deduce what was happening. Her whole body suddenly felt like it was on fire as her vision began to blur. With drunken steps, she rushed away from Marcus, now completely filled with fear.
She cradled her leg as she frantically rushed past people, completely disoriented. Everyone stepped away from her as if she was some lunatic as she heaved in breaths violently. She couldn’t believe how fast her heart was beating.
Am I . . . having a heart attack?!
Margret’s head went blank as she collapsed to the ground. She struggled with all her might to rise, but her body wouldn’t respond. She could feel her entire body going numb as she watched her vision slowly fade to black.
Is this it? It ends here?
Slowly, she embraced the shadows growing stronger around her. However, in her final moments she was able to gain enough clarity to reflect on what Marcus had said.
For now . . . he said. For now . . .
* * *
[January 7th - Abingdon, Virgina - Stigma’s Underground Facility - Day]
Cecilia paced back and forth nervously. In such an extreme situation, she couldn’t begin to put together the end game goal, nor could she think of any way out of the mess she was in. She was trapped. Even worse, she still had no idea if Zack was alright.
They left so suddenly. I hope nothing has happened.
The door to Cecilia’s “cell” opened, causing her to jump in alarm. Once she saw the person on the other side, she eased up, but not completely.
“It’s you again,” Cecilia said with a slight pause.
Nerine smiled cheerfully and entered the room with a little skip in her step. Cecilia found it a little unnerving how she always seemed so cheerful.
Cecilia didn’t waste any time getting to the heart of what was deeply bothering her.
“Is my brother okay?” Cecilia asked with urgency.
The door behind Nerine shut as she sat down on the bed with Cecilia. Her smile faded slightly.
“Cecilia, right?” she asked while looking at her feet.
Cecilia nodded, unsure of how to respond to the familiarity. She wanted to push the issue with Zack’s safety, but something held her back. It was the look in Nerine’s eyes. She seemed, apologetic in a way. There was just something different about Nerine that Cecilia couldn’t ignore. Deep down, Cecilia wanted to trust her, but couldn’t whole heartedly. She was working with that man, after all.
“Cecilia, how old are you?”
Again, Cecilia was not sure how to react to her questions.
What is she getting at? Did something happen to Zack?!
Nerine started clicking her heels in a nervous act as she played with her fingers. She did seem rather disheartened.
“I see . . . you don’t trust me still,” she said, sounding defeated.
Cecilia’s mouth hung open. She didn’t know how to convey the things that she was feeling, but what Nerine said was true. She didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust anyone that worked for a shady person such as Corson. The only person she had ever trusted was her brother. There was no one else she ever relied on. She loved him. Until she saw him with her own eyes and knew that he was safe, she wasn’t going to talk easily.
“Where is my brother? I want to see him.” Cecilia spoke as strongly as she could.
Nerine sighed as she coiled her finger around a strand of her hair.
“He is fine. Don’t worry-”
“I do worry! He’s my brother! What are you guys planning?!” Cecilia yelled with tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She leaned into Nerine hard as she glared into the girl’s sky-blue eyes.
“Calm down. Nothing is going to happen-”
“Like I’m going to believe some terrorists!” she bellowed.
The last comment struck a chord in Nerine. Her passive nature quickly vanished and was replaced with an overwhelming presence of contempt.
“You ought to learn the full spectrum of the reality you live in before you start labeling people you don’t have any understanding of,” she whispered vividly.
Cecilia quickly recoiled as she saw the look in Nerine’s eyes. They were stone, fierce. She looked like a completely different person now. The look she was giving Cecilia sent waves of terror up her body. Her eyes looked so much like Corson’s.
“Have you ever wondered why someone like me follows Corson?” Nerine’s eyes didn’t change as she spoke.
Ce
cilia shook her head slowly as she fought to keep her body from shivering.
“Everyone here, all of Stigma, has a reason to follow Corson. Most follow for his grand plan and pursuit of change, but there are several who follow him for a much greater reason, myself included.”
Cecilia swallowed hard. “A-and w-what is that?”
Nerine took to standing. Her looming gaze never once faltered.
“He saved us. He gave us something when we had nothing left. We were given a chance when no one else would hear us. To me, Corson is like. . .” she paused as she broke eye contact. Her bottom lip twitched as her intense eyes began to soften.
In that pause, Cecilia could sense a strong pain in Nerine’s watery eyes. She looked to be fighting back tears while struggling to remain strong. Cecilia thought of Nerine’s question from before, which made her wonder just how old Nerine was. Her pained expression as she bit her lip made Cecilia see that she didn’t understand anything. How could she? All her life she was neglected and betrayed. She was spoiled by her brother’s protection and did nothing but complain. She was nothing but a spoiled brat . . . desperate for attention.
I-I don’t have the right . . . to judge anyone, she thought while hanging her head in shame.
Cecilia looked up at Nerine, who still looked like she was fighting back tears as she clenched her fists tightly.
“H-how did Corson save you?” she asked softly.
Nerine’s lip ceased quivering, but her eyes still remained foggy. She still wouldn’t make eye contact as she looked at the center of the bed rather than Cecilia.
“I was an orphan, living in one of the many Limit Zones constructed around the country. You privileged people don’t even know what Limit Zones are, much less know they even exist, I bet.”
Nerine was right. Cecilia had never heard of such a thing. But the way Nerine spoke of it with such resentment made Cecilia wonder just what it was. The rage that was evoked in Nerine’s stance made Cecilia worry if she really wanted to know.
Nerine noticed Cecilia’s confused look, which only served to anger her further. However, she knew that Cecilia wasn’t the person she should be mad at. It was at times like these that Nerine recalled the words that Corson had said to her back then. She closed her eyes and remembered the moment when her life finally shifted in the right direction.
The Genesis Code 1: Lambda Page 30
