Thursday Midnight

by Zachry Wheeler

  The man sighed and shook his head. “Pity. And here I was thinking that I gave you plenty of leeway.”

  “Our agreement with the transient stipulated—”

  “With the transient.” The man snarled his reply. “How comfortably distant. Do not soften his treachery by making him a thing.”

  The agent stiffened his posture before proceeding. “Our agreement stipulated a clean severance.”

  “And you gave it to him.”

  “Yes.”

  The man grimaced like a disgruntled employee. “Then it appears that you have a remarkable problem.”

  “How so?”

  “What time is it?”

  “What does it matter?”

  The man tilted his head in obvious offense, then glanced at the one-way mirror. “Because you spent the last few days chasing a ghost. A ghost, mind you, that just embedded two axes into your reception desk. So what makes you think that my requests do not warrant regard?”

  Korovin leaned back into the chair and crossed his arms. After a moment of contemplation, he reached into his breast pocket and checked his phone. “2:13 a.m.”

  “Then you have 46 hours to find Jonas and bring him to me.”

  “What happens then?”

  The man blinked in response, then slogged his gaze over to the one-way mirror, letting the question linger. His eyes landed on Jemison, albeit accidentally, but the weight of his conviction infected her with a sudden angst, forcing a shift to the other side.

  “I asked you a quest—”

  “That will be all for now, Agent Korovin.”

  The agent opened his mouth to reply, but conceded the conversation. He glanced at the one-way mirror and caught the man observing him through the reflection. Callous eyes refused to look away, locking onto the mirrored image with the full weight of a hidden conviction. The agent rose to his feet and left the room without another word.

  Agent Jemison emerged from the observation room and met him in-between.

  “Get him into solitary,” Korovin said with a stern voice. “Manage it yourself. Have him monitored through the AI. No guards, understand?”

  She nodded.

  Korovin patted her shoulder, then spun away and leapt into a jog down the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” she said.

  “I need to make a phone call.”

  He rounded a corner and disappeared.

  CHAPTER 8

  A maglev tram sailed through an underground passage in near silence, bound for the Fremont district north of Seattle. The widened eyes of everyone aboard remained glued to the screens of mobile devices, creating the unsettling image of a train invaded by mannequins. Reporters continued to spin their gossip from the base of Zenit Tower. Nothing new had emerged since the initial reports, but passengers consumed every recycled word.

  Doren also stared at his phone, but only to blend into the surroundings. His mind’s eye gazed through the device and into the unknown, locked onto a much bigger problem. The occasional bank and turn prompted him to revisit the screen in order to make sure the report was still running, but given the nature of the situation, he could ride the tram for days and nobody would notice.

  Most news feeds had transferred reporting duties to the next region, as Seattle was prepping for lockdown. The first chime of impending sunrise had sounded within the tram, giving Doren plenty of time to return to his Fremont abode. The ping of arrival yanked him and several others to their feet. The tram hovered to a stop and flooded the platform with a horde of zombie commuters. They bumped walls and shoulders, content to let muscle memory guide them home. A dull hum filled the station as the tram rushed to the next stop, muting the patter of footsteps. Doren eyed the train as it disappeared into a tunnel mouth at the far side. For once, the sound was deafening.

  After a short stair climb, Doren emerged into a morning mist near a small shopping corner. Entry signs were flipped or powered down. One manager had already shuttered the front while others geared up to follow suit. Doren tromped along the sidewalk towards home, a dime mine complex on the next block. His gaze fell to the pavement and remained there for the duration, a far cry from his usual chatty self. His neighbors may have sought an explanation, but on this particular day, his silence went unnoticed.

  The reticence continued through the lobby and into the elevator foyer. Even the concierge failed to glance up from his own device. Doren pushed to the rear of a crowded car and started his descent into the bowels of the complex. His blank stare locked onto the metal doors, which parted every so often to lighten the load. As a successful business owner, Doren could afford the more expensive units near the base of the complex. Thus, he was usually the last person to leave the car before it returned to the surface.

  He strolled down an empty hallway towards his unit. Intricate wall sconces filled the corridor with pleasing light. Marble tile and contemporary art created a luxury vibe that the upper floors lacked. After all, the lower residents paid handsomely for that distinction. He arrived at his unit and pressed a thumb to the external plate. It pinged in response and unlocked the entry. A shoulder bump opened the door and he slipped inside.

  The lights illuminated of their own accord, bathing the posh apartment under a warm sheen. Angular furniture and bold patterns extended the Art Deco themes from his office, or perhaps vice versa. Dark wood floors and a checkered rug completed a vivid period vibe, but Doren failed to emit his usual sigh of contentment. He pressed his back to the door and plunked his head against the pane, lifting his gaze to a blank ceiling. His mind raced in circles, cycling through the consequences of what lay ahead.

  With a waning courage, he reached into his pocket and withdrew Korovin’s contact card. He studied it through the squeamish gaze of a battered victim. His thumb traced the raised seal of NExUS, arousing a rush of painful memories. His eyes began to tear as he recounted the narrow miss of extinction, but none of it mattered. The drums of a new war pummeled his mind.

  Doren eyed a small table beside the entry, a rosewood piece with thin legs and a flush drawer in the center, a rare find that blended seamlessly into the design. He hooked the handle and opened a cubby, revealing a smattering of junk items. A thick layer of black felt covered the interior, which any casual glance would dismiss as protection for delicate contents. However, Doren had installed the lining himself, using specialized material designed to block mobile signals. He dropped his phone inside and slid the drawer shut.

  As he stepped towards the master bedroom, an array of motion sensors illuminated the abode and cued a selection of jazz. Doren enjoyed the automation and often hummed along, but his mind blocked it out as he marched through the living room.

  A flick and shoulder roll dropped the suit jacket down his arms. He grabbed the collar with a practiced hand and stepped into a spacious walk-in closet. After returning the garment to its proper place, he proceeded towards an access panel at the rear wall. A pinch and pull opened the cubby, revealing bundles of wires and breakers that powered the home. He reached inside a hidden compartment above the panel, careful not to dislodge any fittings. His face cringed as he fished around the grimy interior, hoping not to spook a spider. Soon after, he withdrew a black pouch covered in drywall dust. A blow and swipe revealed a faint shimmer, the same blocking material used in the entry table drawer. He stared at the bag for a pensive moment, then sighed and closed the panel door.

  Doren returned to the living room and tapped a control panel along the wall, powering a standard access point for lights, music, and general connectivity. He entered a series of commands that opened a custom interface, a hack packet provided to him that overrode NExUS protocols to disable sniffers. A final sequence disconnected the local hub while pushing a phantom signal to the main network. The music stopped and all lights reverted to their default hues. It was as close to a rift site as anyone could get within city limits.

  With the shroud enabled, he returned to the living room and proceeded over to the kitchen table. He placed
the card and pouch on the surface, then fetched a cold beer from the fridge. One sip led to another as he slowly built the courage to complete the task ahead of him. He downed the rest of the bottle and snatched another before returning to the table and settling into one of several stylish chairs. His hands twisted over each other as he studied the card and cloth. With a final weighted breath, he lowered his palms to the surface.

  One hand gripped the pouch while the other reached inside and pulled out an old mobile device. The screen was smaller than average and the body a bit heavier, but the unit was solid and dependable. Doren was often tempted by the latest and greatest, but he also knew in the back of his mind that durability mattered far more than novelty. The device pinged to life when he pressed a power button, even after months in a dark hole. He had recharged the unit earlier in the year, enough to keep it readily available should the need arise.

  Today was one such need.

  The pouch also contained a small slip of paper with three lines of alphanumeric codes. The screen showed three icons, one for each. Doren tapped the first icon, which opened an executable script that required a passcode to authorize. He entered the first code, using an offset calculation that he had memorized long before. The app accepted and searched for an adjacent signal within the complex. After a brief scan, a checkmark confirmed acquisition. He tapped the next icon and input the second code, instructing the app to hijack the connection. A checkmark confirmed the task. Doren paused for a needed breath, then tapped the third and final icon, which opened a simple video-chat interface. He input the last code and hesitated before submitting. The conversation with Korovin replayed in his mind, forcing his finger to the screen. With a final tap, he lowered the device to the table and folded his hands in wait.

  * * *

  The harsh clacks of keyboards needled an air of distress inside the computer den. Jonas and Anna sat to either side of the console, lobbing intel back and forth as they uncovered it. The whole of humanity was online together, trying their best to make sense of a dire situation. Multiple feeds babbled in the background, tossing out buzzwords of despair that hit like anvils around the room.

  “Tamar has eyes on everyone in Vaasa,” Jonas said.

  “Good,” Anna said. “Who’s left at this point?”

  “That should be everybody. The entire network is above the 60 latitude.”

  “Then this guy has to be an eternal, likely a faction thug or something.” Anna scrunched her brow, then spun to face Jonas. “Here’s a thought. This lunatic walked into a NExUS outpost and carved it up like a goddamn reaper. Maybe he’s a holdover from the Rogue Revolts.”

  Jonas shifted his gaze between a mess of feeds and chat windows. “Good guess, but four centuries is a long time to hold a grudge.”

  “And yet, they still tiptoe around the Savies.”

  Jonas grinned. “True. What are the crawlers saying?”

  Anna switched focus to another monitor and refreshed an output stream. “At this point, they have scanned every NExUS backdoor. Twice. I got nothing.” She groaned with frustration. “If they know anything about this guy, they are playing it very close to the chest.”

  “Maybe we should reconfigure our search params,” he said while typing.

  “To what? We have the core covered and then some.”

  “I dunno, just spitballing.”

  “I even added axe murderer to our index lists. That’s a phrase I never thought I would type.”

  Jonas paused for thought. “Huh, there’s an idea. What if we add the names of infamous serial killers to the indexes? Maybe NExUS will compare his exploits and give us a hook in the process. Hell, you know the press is already doing it. I bet Tokarev has been mentioned a dozen times already. We could even create a new index, see what it snags.”

  Anna grunted and nodded. “We would likely snag old profiles and analytics, but it might be worth sifting through. Tell you what, let me run a test with a few comparables and see what it catches.”

  “That works.”

  Moments later, a hailing ping broke through the chaos. The foreign tone halted them both mid-keystroke. They eyed each other with confusion before honing in on the source. A proxy icon flashed on a central monitor, hooking their focus. The rush of realization infected their minds, paralyzing them for a fleeting moment.

  Anna gasped, then whipped back to her current screen and muted the outputs, blanketing the den in silence. Jonas repositioned himself in front of the monitor and expelled a heavy breath. He moused up to the icon and hovered over the connection link. His anxious gaze turned to Anna, who nodded and positioned herself off-camera. Jonas steeled his mind, then clicked the icon.

  A video stream connected, showing a blank ceiling with a smattering of can lights. The image jerked about as Doren lifted the mobile device from the table and refocused on his face. Jonas maintained a glacial stare as he cycled through some hand signals.

  [Jonas] Safe?

  [Doren] Yes.

  [Jonas] Alone?

  [Doren] Yes.

  [Jonas] Scan.

  Doren rotated the camera around the room with a slow pan, then refocused on himself.

  The exchange was cold and vacant, as practiced.

  Jonas smiled. “How the hell are you, bud?”

  Doren grinned in response. “It’s damn good to see you, brother.”

  Anna leaned into frame. “Hey, D.”

  His smile morphed into a toothy chuckle. “There she is. How are you, hon?”

  “Much better now that we see you.”

  Doren wiped away some welling tears.

  The smiles faded, as the call carried an ominous weight. The pleasantries of a long awaited reunion mutated into the raw task of dissemination.

  Doren sniffled and glanced away before launching into the discussion. “Okay, so, I assume that you two have been monitoring current events.”

  “Yes,” Jonas said. “Our intel has been limited, though.”

  “What do you know?”

  “They call him the Axeman. We saw the tunnel footage and the latest incident. We keep digging through the feeds, but have yet to uncover anything of use. The only thing we know for sure is that he’s not one of ours.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “Yes, everyone has been accounted for. Why?”

  Doren glanced around the room, then lowered his voice and returned to the camera. “Because he’s human.”

  The immediate shock stole their breath. Jonas and Anna met eyes, mirroring states of disbelief.

  “Wha—how do you know that?”

  Doren raised the contact card up to the camera. “Here, screenshot this.”

  Jonas captured the image, but also sighed and shook his head at the unfortunate reveal.

  “I know, I know,” Doren said with an open hand. “Just hear me out.”

  Jonas started to reach for the mouse, but Anna grabbed his arm.

  “He’s busy with the fallout and you can clearly see that I’m veiled. You both need to hear this.”

  Jonas glanced at Anna, who reassured his mind without saying a word. He retracted his hand and nodded.

  “He came by the store after the tunnel incident. No call, no warning, caught me flat-footed and cock-out. Hell, even Nadia thought it was some sort of shakedown.”

  Anna smirked.

  “Korovin ghosted after you two left the city, so I thought it was all played out. The only confirmation I got was when you contacted me the following month. Complete and total silence, until today.”

  “Does he think that we’re involved?” Anna said.

  “No. Not directly, at least.”

  “How do you know?” Jonas said.

  Doren paused for weight. “Because the killer wrote your name at the crime scenes. Fucker spelled it out in the ash of the victims, like some sort of call sign.”

  Jonas could feel his throat tighten.

  “Wait a minute,” Anna said. “Crime scenes? This meeting was before the station, right?”
>
  Doren sighed and nodded. “The tunnel wasn’t the first. Korovin showed me the pictures, all of which showed your name. You’re not a suspect, but you’re on the killer’s mind. They want to know why.”

  “I don’t recall anything like that from the stream,” Jonas said with a hint of skepticism. “And I’m pretty sure I would have remembered seeing my own name. The agents could have written it themselves.”

  “I thought that too, but I doubt it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You know me, and I know people. I dealt with Korovin for long time, learned all his ticks. But this was different. He was muddled, derailed in a way. It was an odd exchange, like grasping at straws. Then he called me after the station massacre, all cryptic and frantic. That’s when I learned the Axeman was human.”

  “Jeez,” Anna said. “That’s a PR apocalypse. No wonder he was frazzled.”

  Jonas nodded in agreement. “I imagine that NExUS will try to control the narrative. They would have a lot to lose if this went public.”

  “Which brings us back to the point of this call,” Doren said. “Korovin is trying to find you. He wants to bring you in as leverage.”

  Jonas huffed into a cynical chuckle. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

  “It’s not about you, bro. I doubt that NExUS even has a bead on you. But, the Axeman has demanded to see you.”

  “And he can go fuck himself.”

  Doren grimaced and bowed his head.

  “But they have him in custody,” Anna said.

  “Exactly,” Jonas said. “Why would they heed anything he says?”

  Doren exhaled a heavy sigh before returning his gaze to the feed. His fingers rapped on the table as he weighed his next words. “Korovin is old guard,” he said with a solemn tone. “Seasoned, deliberate, always in control. This is a man who oversaw more stronghold assaults than anyone else in history, and never lost a battle. But today I heard fear in that man’s voice, and it rattled me. I think he sees something on the horizon. And I also think that he sees you as an ally in the fight to come.”

  Jonas sighed and lowered his gaze.