Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1)

by Adams, Nicholas

  They crawled through the round metal duct, one after the other, as they backtracked the same route she took to get into the detention area. The darkness vanished as the power system was restored. The female agent feared someone below might look up and notice two dark masses crawling through the duct. The pandemonium below seemed to increase with the return of the lights and they took advantage of the noise to move faster toward their final extraction point above the station.

  The female agent knew from experience that their escape route had to be different from her ingress. Not only would it have been impossible to sneak among the furniture and cubicles with the lighting restored, but also there was no way to tell if someone had stumbled upon her trail. Forward, not backward, was their only course of action; onward and upward through ducts, ceiling spaces and – if lucky – an unutilized stairwell to the roof.

  She startled when Campbell’s voice barked into her earpiece.

  “Progress report!”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Zipping along on the maglev Evangeline’s mind drifted between the bizarre and horrific events of the past two days. The adolescent Angel wrapped in a filthy blanket and buried alive under a tomb of steel. Daryl’s accident on the landing field, and his near-fatal condition as medics rushed him to the base clinic. The cloaked attackers in the arena, and the brush with death she and Jack shared.

  Daryl’s grotesque condition in the crisis unit maintained its demand for the center stage of her mind. Evangeline pulled open her jacket and rubbed the tender spot on her shoulder. The growing bruise resulting from her collision with the doctor, and two nurses, she bowled over while escaping Daryl’s room. She winced, trying to remember the doctor’s feeble explanation for Daryl’s outburst.

  He had introduced himself as Dr. Saul Abraham, the chief pathologist of the crisis unit. When Evangeline told Dr. Abraham what Daryl said, the doctor waved it off. “The combination of the trauma to his system, the pain he’s undergoing and the cocktail of chemical’s we’re utilizing to manage his condition, he’s most likely in a state of drug-induced paranoid schizophrenia. Once we find restore his skin with a transplant, and find the right balance in his medication, you won’t even remember he ever acted out like that.”

  The comment made Evangeline feel like she he gave her a proverbial pat on the head and dismissed for recess. She did not believe his answer, and she could tell from his eyes that he did not believe it either. The nurses standing with Dr. Abraham cited similar cases of pain-induced dementia and other forms of hallucinations brought about after severe trauma. They said his mind had simply written a story to explain how and why he was experiencing such agony.

  In other words, no one, not the medical personnel nor the security officials, put any credit into Daryl’s claims that he had been poisoned. It was no more than a delusion.

  The maglev hummed to a stop and Evangeline got up from her cozy window seat and stepped onto the platform. She took in a lungful of unfiltered air wafting in from outside the station. Scents of dust, flowers, open fires, and vehicles filled her nose, evoking an involuntary sigh. Feeling the weariness of a long train ride, she shook her body awake and descended the monumental staircase down to the southwest industrial section of the LTZ. The platform was not far from the scene of the vehicular collision she had witnessed, where Daryl had encountered the strange man with the water. It was the only starting point she could think of.

  Evangeline was not convinced Daryl was deluded. She had witnessed him take a drink from the man’s flask. The gesture had appeared harmless at the time, but in the light of Daryl’s condition and her own attack in the arena, she felt she owed it to Daryl to investigate.

  Evangeline was still ignorant of the fact she was not carrying her communicator about with her. She had slipped into patrol-mode. When she was on-duty she was not permitted use of her personal communicator, and in her frame of mind, she did not notice its absence.

  The intersection where the accident with the pipes had happened was less than two miles away from the maglev platform, so she began walking toward the scene of the accident in lieu of taking a shuttle. Evangeline could run a mile in under six minutes - she enjoyed the exertion of walking. She had been sitting or standing on public transportation all evening and it was a blissful relief to move her muscles.

  She was weaving her way through a market district adjacent to the industrial complex when the wafting aromas from the food vendors made her stomach growl. Her mouth watered for something to eat; the tilapia and rice suddenly seemed ages ago to her hollow belly. She permitted herself a few minutes to inspect the different vendors selling cooked meat, fruits and vegetables, bread and soups, and just about every other form of food you can prepare, cook, and sell from a small handcart on the street. She settled on one vendor who sold chicken kebabs with slices of roasted peppers and onions.

  Although she was still determined to reach the scene of the accident before dark, she could not help herself from watching the people as she devoured the kebabs. She could tell by their clothing who was from Olympus and who was an LTZ native. The ones from Olympus were unspotted, to use Jack’s term., Olympians were too well-dressed and out-of-place. LTZ attire was modest; nothing drab or ragged, but less manicured and tailored than the fashions from Olympus.

  She observed people laughing, engaged in energetic debates. The security officers paid no mind to two neighboring shopkeepers in a heated argument. As she passed, Evangeline witnessed the neighbors resolve the spat on their own. She mused to herself that if such a conflict had happened in Olympus, the security officers would have been involved at once. The laid-back vibe of the LTZ was at odds with the Olympic traditions taught to her as a youth.

  Walking through the market, she heard the all too familiar roar of the engines of a TRTV patrol. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to it as it arced across the sky, but the people almost seemed frustrated by the intrusion of an Olympic patrol in their airspace. Evangeline even overheard a man whispering to his wife, “Those damn patrols. I wish Olympus would keep their nose out of our business.”

  She finished her kebabs and came across a young boy sitting with an older girl, who she assumed was his sister, selling bottles of water and juice from a bucket filled with ice. The apparent age of the girl, and her lighter hair color brought up the memory of the adolescent Angel. Evangeline could not help but wonder if the girl selling drinks would look as peaceful and serene if she had been found in a metal crypt wrapped in a blanket with a hole in the back of her skull.

  Evangeline shook the horrible image from her mind and bought a bottle of water from the girl. Charmed by the little boy’s ear-to-ear grin, she bought a bottle of juice as well. She thanked them and continued toward the scene of the accident with renewed energy, now well-fed and focused.

  Within a minute of finishing her bottle of juice, she had reached the other side of the market. She resumed her usual brisk pace, completing her trip to the intersection of the accident. She was amazed at how different it looked two days later. The area appeared no different from the dozens of intersections she had passed to get there. If she had not known there had been a collision there the previous day, she would have never guessed two freight transports had been overturned on that same spot less than forty-eight hours before.

  Evangeline spotted one or two mangled pipe fragments scattered at the edges of the street. Evangeline assumed they had been considered unsalvageable scrap and left behind to be collected by anyone willing to make the effort. She found small pieces of debris that looked like they could have belonged to one or both of the freight transports.

  Her most prominent observation was the lack of corn. There was not a single kernel of corn anywhere in the streets.

  “It seems food,” she mused to herself, “is more precious than steel down here.” She could understand that. There were times off world when they had enough ammunition to fight their enemies ten times over, but food rations had been limited to one meal a day.

  She re
membered something she had learned early in school that had always stuck with her: the rule of threes.

  “There are three things you don’t think about until it’s happening to you,” her teacher began with a mischievous grin. The class only offered him blank expressions in return.

  “Suffocation, dehydration, and starvation,” he urged. “Who can tell me why?” Not one student raised their hand.

  “Hmm,” he muttered, turning around to the board. “Okay.”

  He wrote three lines in chalk.

  You can live without _____ for ___ minutes.

  You can live without _____ for ___ days.

  You can live without _____ for ___ weeks.

  “Fill in the blanks!” he said as he smiled around the room. No one took the bait.

  After a few seconds tiptoed by on the clock, a single had risen toward the ceiling, and the teacher’s grin doubled in size. Evangeline seemed shocked to discover the hand was her own. The teacher motioned to her and she cleared her throat.

  “Well, you already said it yourself… sort of…,” she “Air, water, and food. You can only live without these for a certain amount of time before you die.” The teacher nodded with such vigor Evangeline wondered if his head would roll off his shoulders.

  “Very good!” he cheered. “But, can you tell me what is the order and the duration of each to make what I’ve written accurate?” This teacher was one of the few among the faculty who did not treat Evangeline like a pariah for her parents’ actions - his warm encouragement filled her with bravery to answer him again.

  Olympic citizens rarely worried about the necessities of life, what sustenance the body required to survive. Food came from the store, water came from the tap, and air was all around them. Scarcity was not a concept they had dealt with in several hundred years. The concept was intuitive to Evangeline once she thought about it, but most Olympians never thought about such trivialities. These concerns were for the simple residents of the LTZ.

  Evangeline cleared her throat a second time before answering. “You can live without air for three minutes, you can live without water for three days, and you can live without food for three weeks,” she responded, now brimming with confidence.

  The teacher beamed and walked into the center of the room. “Very good!” he crowed. “Now, who can tell me why?”

  A figure approaching from down the street caused Evangeline’s mind to retreat from her childhood classroom. She scanned the area surrounding her. The industrial complex had appeared abandoned when she first arrived. There were no signs of residences nearby, so she dismissed the idea that it was a local on their way home. She thought someone must be using the area as a shortcut from one part of the LTZ to another.

  The sun sank behind the horizon, leaving the area washed in a dusky haze.

  The figure moved at a slow, but determined pace. As the form drew near, she noticed it was not one, but two people walking in an offset single file.

  Their formation reminded her of days in basic training. She could still hear the voice of her drill instructor resonating in her head. “Do not walk single file. That way a sniper can’t get more than one kill per shot. Do not walk side by side, either. You can get in each other’s way if you’re too close together and you need to find cover quickly.”

  A peculiar thought crossed Evangeline’s mind, which was that few people without special combat training would walk in such a formation. Her shoulders tensed as she recognized the formation headed straight in her direction.

  Evangeline made eye contact with the figures stepping between the shadows. They responded with a change in their pace. The one in the lead was leaner, of a feminine build. She slowed a half step and reached behind her to her companion. The second individual had a tall and stocky frame, and he took an extra half step and reached forward, taking the hand of his companion.

  When they were a block away they leaned in towards each other and looked like any another couple out for an evening stroll. They turned the corner and their faces were illuminated as they passed under a streetlight. Evangeline’s breath caught in her lungs.

  It was the woman, the retired TRTV pilot. The couple was wearing simple clothing that could blend into crowds in Olympus or the LTZ, but her face was unmistakable. And the man beside her fit the description she remembered in her after-action report. He kept his eyes on Evangeline as the pair crossed the street, headed in her direction.

  The woman looked at Evangeline as she pulled the man to the right, disappearing behind the corner of a building. Evangeline broke into a sprint to follow. She rounded the corner to find they had increased their pace and had already reached the midpoint down the block. She was sure that the man she pursued was the same one who offered Daryl a drink. If not, they were her best lead to finding the man who did. She was determined not to lose their trail.

  The couple continued on their hasty stroll, taking a frequent glance behind them to see if Evangeline was still on their tails. Their pace was steady; they were not hastening to shake her off, but neither were they slowing to permit her to catch up.

  Evangeline had not bothered being discreet about her chase. “Excuse me!” she called out, panting. “Can I talk to you for a moment, please?”

  The couple turned another corner and she sprinted ahead to try to catch up to them. They seemed to have done the same, and Evangeline called out in desperation.

  “Can you help me?” her voice echoed down a narrow alley. “I have some follow-up questions about the accident around here the other day. I just want to ask you a few questions!” The couple turned their heads to look but their gait never wavered as they turned around yet another corner and out of her line of sight.

  Evangeline quickened her pace again, frustrated at their obvious disregard to her requests.

  “I know you were the woman inspecting my TRTV at the scene of the accident!” she screamed as she made her way to the next corner.

  Evangeline had chased after them for over four blocks when she recognized the figure eight route they had taken among the dilapidated buildings. Their behavior seemed to confirm their intentions - they either wanted to get her disoriented before they fled from her or they were ascertaining if she was alone. Either way, she regretted that she had not brought her sidearm.

  She reached into her pocket to call the local station for backup. When she found the pocket empty, it dawned on her she had left her communicator at home on the kitchen counter. Jack would be upset she left it behind. Even worse, she was alone in an abandoned part of the LTZ with nothing to defend herself but her wits and training. She was in a vulnerable position, but she still needed answers. She hoped that her apprehension was unfounded.

  About thirty yards ahead, they stopped and paused under a streetlight at the next intersection. They scanned the empty streets, made eye contact again with Evangeline, and bolted around the corner. They were baiting her. Evangeline knew she was caught up in the game of cat and mouse. She did not know how close she was to getting her answers, so she ignored the danger and ran after them.

  She never saw the arm swing around the corner and strike her throat, knocking her off her feet. The impact of her body against the concrete sidewalk knocked the wind out of her lungs. She tried to force her body to inhale a desperate gulp of air as a stun baton struck her in the chest. She thrashed on the ground as a fish caught in a net.

  Her violent convulsions ceased with the current. She felt herself slipping past the blurred edge of consciousness. She fought to hold onto her fuzzy vision, and she spied two people emerging from the door on her right. One grabbed her under her arms and the other wrapped his hands under her knees, and together they carried her into the building. She then spotted the couple whom she had been following enter the same building through another door down the block.

  A small freight transport was idling in the open space of what appeared to be a vast storage warehouse. They placed Evangeline in the back of the transport, resting her on a thin mattress. From her positio
n on the floor of the transport, she could see a man sitting in the operator’s seat. She thought she had heard him utter the words “jam” and “cameras.” Her mind was in such a fog, she was not sure of anything she saw or heard since she had begun her pursuit through the shadowy alleyways.

  The men who had carried her stood close the open rear doors of the vehicle. One of the men who had carried Evangeline spoke as the couple approached the transport. “Felicia, Garrett, we need to move her out of here,” he said in a panicked voice. “B.B. said she wasn’t supposed to be contacted yet. It’s too soon.”

  The other man nodded. “I agree,” he said, breathing at a nervous rate. “It’s not safe for her here. If they find her here, they may discover more than we can afford right now. I say we smuggle her back to Olympus and drop her off at a little clinic. We could say we found her passed out near a pub.”

  “I say we just dispose of her.”

  This remark came from the man Evangeline had been chasing; the one she suspected had given Daryl the poison. All eyes turned to him with looks of surprise.

  “She’s one of them, now!” Garret spat with disdain. “She’s one of the enemy. And we don’t play nice with the enemy.”

  Felicia’s hard eyes studied the three men one by one. The two who had lifted Evangeline off the street wore anxious expressions. Their eyes darted back and forth between Garrett and herself. They felt uneasy about his morbid suggestion. Garrett glared between Felicia and the other men with contempt. He knew what they needed to do to win the war. He was willing to make the hard choices. But at the moment he was outnumbered.

  Felicia gazed down at Evangeline with concern. Her instructions were to find out what had happened to the Angel found at the accident the day prior. She was not to initiate contact with Evangeline. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes as she had an internal debate with herself.