by Nathan Wall
“Whether or not we catch him alive is up to him,” Sanderson replied. “Usually, these types of screw-ups don’t like coming back in one piece.”
Elliot and his two men left the room. Lian put her right hand back up to her temple and focused.
“He’s heading out the north end.”
“Communicate with the team. Tell them—”
“Already done,” she interrupted.
* * *
Edward ran through the sewage corridor. Steam filled the air and metal tubes protruded from the ground, walls, and ceiling. His heart didn’t beat and his blood was as cold as ice. He stopped and crunched over, trying to hold in the pain as his ribs shifted.
“What is happening?” His voice sounded like it was splitting in two. His hair color shifted from a dark tone to silver with a soft bright shine and his skin turned smooth as glass.
He heard the voices and footsteps of those following him. “Scanners are picking something up two hundred feet around the corner.”
He stood straight and proceeded forward. His senses were all running on overdrive. Every little click made by the water rushing through the pipes was an hammer on an anvil. The cologne of the soldiers pursuing him was ripe on his nose. Their blood seemed salty on the tip of his tongue, pleading with him to stay just for a moment.
It doesn't have to be a large taste, he thought. Just a little bit. They won't mind...
He fought the urge to stay and feast, pushing forward.
Suddenly, several rounds shredded through the air and bombarded him. The rounds tore through the metal and concrete around him, even piercing through his skin, muscle, and bone. He jumped up to the ceiling and evaded the bullets, swinging in a circular motion as though gliding through the air.
His body repaired itself while his skin quickly sealed. His eyes locked onto one of the soldiers, and with just a thought, he was on top of him, clawing through armor and flesh. The soldier died before the synapses of pain reached his brain. A few men piled on top of Edward, using all their might to hold him down, only to be thrown off like they were little children. He drew his gun and quickly put them down.
The night sky glowing through the dome at the top of a long cavernous shaft snared his attention. He jumped from wall to wall, climbing up from the underground toward the ground level of the complex. Once on top, he spotted Lian and a few more soldiers advancing in the distance.
He turned around, looked across the deep hole he had just climbed from, and without a running start, leapt a good forty feet to the other side. Upon landing, he sprinted, quickly putting distance between him and Lian.
“He’s going to make it to the outside,” Sanderson said to her as they both watched Edward tear through the dome.
“That’s ok. Jackson will meet him there.”
Edward smashed through to the outside, the frigid desert air not slowing him down. The mountains weren’t visible in the distance, but he knew they were there. He decided that would be the best place for him to hide.
He got no farther than three hundred yards from the complex when a bright flare headed his way. It wasn’t burning, but moved at an intense speed. The light was quickly brightening, so he opened fire.
His clip emptied. The light crashed right in front of him, kicking up sand and rock, knocking him back. As the dust settled, a man in purple and silver armor stood in front of him. Edward knew it was Jackson, wearing what was widely referred to as the “aurascales.”
The purple armor appeared to be alive like a second skin—shifting as Jackson moved—reacting to Edward’s every subtle twitch. The silver plates were rigid and bulky, growing from the aurascales like an exoskeleton.
Jackson’s silver shoulder and chest plates covered the upper half of his torso, while another plate ran down the center of his stomach. His silver boots were knee-high. From elbows to knuckles, he was covered with the same silver alloy. Up the back of the neck the exoskeleton covered the ears, circled around the cheeks and mouth, and covered the nose. His two solid purple eyes grew brighter, and then dimmed, but never lost their purple glow. His face was that of an armored knight.
“Going somewhere?” Jackson asked.
“I was trying to.” Edward swiped at him, but he was too fast. He kicked, but Jackson grabbed his leg, twirled him around, and slammed him into the ground. The dry earth around the impact cracked open, throwing dust into the air.
Edward flipped up and landed a lucky swipe at Jackson’s side, tearing through the purple and exposing his real skin underneath. However, it was no softer than the thick metal plates as it ripped off his fingernails. The purple aurascales formed back together to protect its host once again. Jackson stepped back and waited for Edward to make his next move, which didn’t take long.
Edward lunged forward with a right jab and a left hook, missing both times. Jackson grabbed the second swipe, twisting the hand end-over-end so fast that it snapped the bone apart. He punched down on Edwards’s elbow, bringing him to the ground. He grabbed Edward by the hair and slammed a knee into his face. A large blade shot out over his right wrist as he knelt, pulling Edward forward.
“Jackson. Sanderson needs him alive,” Lian interrupted the fight, communicating telepathically.
The silver plates on his head collapsed one into another and fell back into his shoulder plate. The aurascales retracted, revealing Jackson’s real face. He bore a striking resemblance to Edward's changed features. Except for a few minor differences in the color of their skin, hair, and eyes, they looked like they could be twins. The wind and dirt blew through Jackson's short sandy blonde hair as his warm breath created a cloud around his face.
“Understood.”
* * *
It was yet another miserably hot day. A dry heat, some would say, not that it made Jarrod feel any better. One could only keep their skin so lathered up and shielded from the sun's harsh rays that loomed overhead—without a cloud to impede the rays’ growing power—before feeling bogged down and greasy. If there was one benefit Jarrod found from baking in the sun during the long treks over the side of the Afghan mountains, it was that it left his body more noticeably chiseled.
His normally fair complexion was now a post-burn tan which one could surmise from the sun lines that formed on the back of his neck. The usual collection of stubble covered his narrow, square face and his dark brown hair was unreasonably long and bright. The many streaks of sun-bleached hairs outnumbered their naturally dark counterparts. He was always a sporty and fit individual, but the past several months in the Rangers, the three years of military service, and the daily training exercises turned his swimmer’s build into a more defined figure.
He rubbed some more standard-issue sunscreen on his arms and flipped the tube to Austin, his best friend. As he rubbed the pasty white lotion deep into his skin, slicking the small hairs down on his arms, he looked at the watch Aunt Liv gave him for his birthday a few years back. He smiled as the once blinking red and blue face stopped working again, yet still gave perfect time.
“What's got you smiling?” Austin tossed the tube back to Jarrod. “Might as well be putting Crisco on yourself. I don't want that crap.”
“Thing still works. Runs on solar power.” Jarrod shoved the tube into his backpack and stood. “The mechanism that works the blinker has been spotty at best. It runs on a battery. Things just don't hold a charge in these mountains, it seems.”
“My watch is battery charged and it works just fine.” Austin tapped his index finger on the face of the watch. “I think it's just you.”
Jarrod fell back in line behind Austin who was a few inches taller and about twenty pounds of muscle bigger. His skin was a light brown and boasted the ability to tan without burning first. His blonde hair was neatly trimmed with sideburns running down his jawline, intersecting with the thin goatee he was growing.
Jarrod slowed his pace and turned his gaze past the crest of the rocky skyscraper they were trekking on and toward the sun perched neatly at the top. Thin str
eams of shadows elongated from the barren trees, boulders, and fellow Rangers.
“Another day, another dollar,” Austin sighed, dripping the last bit of water from his canister onto his tongue.
“I got another letter from home today.” Jarrod picked up his pace and stood shoulder to shoulder with his friend. He glanced at Austin out of the corner of his eye just in time to see his buddy look down at the ground, expressionless and biting his lower lip. “I'm sorry. I know it's not the same for you. I'm an ass.”
“No, you shouldn't have to censor yourself on my behalf.” Austin looked over to Jarrod and grinned, nudging him with an elbow. “Go on. It's been three years since it happened. I'm over it. I like hearing what the folks back on the other side of the planet have to say.”
“It’s from Claire.”
“Is she still talking to you?” Austin laughed, shaking his head. “You must have something really good to keep a smart, smoking-hot girl like her waiting like a lap dog for your return.”
“You've seen me in the shower; you know what she's hooked on,” Jarrod laughed, drawing a few jeers from his company. He ignored them and kept talking. “Look, I know you said you'd never go back during your leave, but honestly, it's time. She's trying to put something together to honor the people from the town, both past and present, who have been in the service. It'll take place during the town centennial. She really wants us there.”
“You can go. You've always liked the attention.”
“You're the one they really want to see.” Jarrod stopped in his tracks and grabbed onto Austin's arm, turning him around. “You can stay with me and Aunt Liv.”
“You know what it's like to go back to that. To condolences, the pity parties, the people constantly asking how you are and how life’s treating you, just so they can feel like they're sharing in your misery all for the sake of having something to boast about to their friends.”
“Will you guys shut up and get back in formation?” Christian grunted as he passed by. He shot Jarrod an evil look and Jarrod replied with a middle finger. “Really, Jarrod, huh? Really? Real mature.”
“Christian, take the pliers from David's tool kit. Pull down your pants, bend over, insert the pliers up your ass, and remove the stick he inserted up there last night while y'all cuddled.”
“What are you trying to say, asshole?” Christian turned around and took two quick steps toward Jarrod, squaring his shoulders.
“I think it's pretty obvious what I'm saying.” Jarrod rolled his eyes. “‘Don't ask, don't tell’ has been repealed. I ain't gonna dance around it anymore. And neither do you... We both know how you love dancing around on it... Be loud and proud, my friend.”
“You are disgusting.” Christian turned his chin up, pointing his noise in the air, and turned around on a dime.
“You know, you just hurt David's feelings when you say things like that.” Jarrod faked a frown and pounded his chest with his fist. “It hurts him here, man. Right here. Time to accept who you are.”
“Oh my God, now you're annoying me.” Austin rolled his eyes and turned around, marching on his way. Jarrod sped up and stepped back in front of Austin. “Please move. I really don't want to have to scrub the commode with a toothbrush again.”
“Oh, shut up. That's only happened twice.”
Austin crossed his arms and dropped his head, tapping his left foot on the ground.
“OK, eight times. Whatever. The point is you need to man up. You're always barking advice my direction, and to my credit, I haven’t yet murdered you in your sleep.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know. I've got a real knack for patience and keeping cool.”
“First I've ever heard of this...”
“The point is, it’s time for you to take some advice from me. Let's go home and not allow those we fight beat us here and where it matters.”
“I am manning up, Jarrod. I'm here, fighting, so that no one else has to endure what happened to me.” Austin brushed Jarrod aside and continued his way.
“Yeah, well, I'm right beside you. Always have been.” Jarrod replied. Austin stopped walking, facing the ground. “And if you don't take a break, I don't take a break. That's how it's been for both of us since before I can remember. But I can tell ya, the mind can only go so far before it wears down. So what'll be?”
Austin looked back up and kept on his way, not saying a word.
* * *
Three Years Ago
Jarrod and Austin sat next to each other, taking turns shooting the rifle at the targets about fifty yards away, and drank the beer Austin's dad stashed in his home office before leaving on a business trip. The two looked at each other, dizzy from the amount of alcohol they'd consumed, and laughed.
“I think you're in deep shit when your parents return home.” Jarrod fell to the ground, holding his stomach as he emptied his lungs in laughter.
“I'll just get someone, I dunno who, to replace it. It's all good.” Austin sunk back into his folding chair and shut his eyes. Jarrod picked up his friend’s rifle and unloaded the rounds into the bottles set up as targets.
“Looks like I win.”
“You cheated.” Austin half-heartedly swiped his hand at Jarrod, not bothering to open his eyes. His cell phone rang and he looked to see if it was his parents. Not wanting to deal with his mom's numerous questions and concerns, he hit the ignore button and wandered into the bushes to urinate.
“You know she's gonna keep calling 'til you answer.” Jarrod lay flat on the ground with his legs propped up on the ice chest. He spread his arms and rubbed his hands into the soft green grass, swiping them from above his head all the way down to his waist. “It'll just ring, and ring, and ring. It'll drive you crazy.”
“I'll tell her I went out without it,” Austin replied from behind the bushes as he released a cathartic grunt.
A car horn blared out twice and Jarrod shot up. Austin's phone continued vibrating. He put it in his pocket and chuckled when he thought of how frantic Austin would be looking for it. He meandered toward the parking car and leaned over the hood, smiling at his girlfriend.
“Don't dent my hood,” Claire said, putting her hands to her hips and tilting her head while she sat in the car. Jarrod slowly opened her door and smiled, causing her to roll her eyes. “I see you guys wasted no time getting drunk.”
“We waited all morning.” Jarrod burped.
“It's ten; you didn't wait long.” She pushed him aside and stepped out of the car, walking toward their campsite. He turned, watching her hips sway side-to-side and focused on her well-formed behind flaunting itself from underneath the form-hugging jeans. She turned around with a closed-lip smile, glancing at him with her russet eyes. She brushed her shoulder-length dark hair behind her ears and bit her lip.
“Mind your manners.” She teased.
“I'd like to mind something.” Jarrod slammed the door and walked over to her. He stood a good foot taller than her. His arms wrapped under hers. He picked her up and twirled her around.
“Don't go over there now. It stinks...” Austin walked toward his chair and froze.
“Why does it stink?” Claire laughed.
“You ass-hat.” Austin shot death rays at Jarrod. “You should have said someone was here. You make me look like an idiot.”
“No, you did it to yourself,” Jarrod laughed.
“Where's my phone?” Austin walked over to the back of his tailgate and started moving the blankets and pillows around.
“No clue.” Jarrod playfully dug his elbow into Claire's side and pulled his pocket open so she could see inside. He brought his index finger up to his lips and shook his head, winking at her. “I thought you brought it into the bushes with you?”
“Oh yeah.” Austin stumbled around and headed back to the space he used as a toilet.
“Will you guys ever stop playing jokes on one another?” Claire asked. Jarrod ran over to the bean bag collection and grabbed the prime spot to view the television they had h
ooked up to a generator. “I see you guys camp the right way. You're really roughing it out here.”
“Probably not,” he leaned in and kissed her as she sat by his side, “and you have no idea how much we're roughing it. The porno is all grainy out here.”
* * *
The journey along the mountain continued for another hour until the company reached a pass overlooking a town snuggled away in the valley between two close parallel hillsides. The Captain ordered everyone down while he and his First Lieutenant charted their progress.
“Doesn't make sense,” Jarrod heard the Captain say. He turned his attention back to Austin, sitting next to him with his back propped up on a rock that dug into the slope.
“Come on, big guy. Give me a hug. You know you can't stay mad at me.” Jarrod leaned into Austin but was quickly pushed away. Jarrod snapped his fingers and pointed at his friend. “You better check yourself before you wreck yourself.”
Austin, without moving his head, briefly shifted his focus to Jarrod before gazing off into the distance with a worried and speculative pain in his eyes. Three large black jets screamed overhead, barreling toward the town below in the valley. The aircrafts reformed in mid-air. Their wings slightly retracted, exposing small turbines inside each wing. The tail blew air toward the ground, allowing them to hover in place. A propeller sprouted up-top of each aircraft, balancing them.
“That can't be our ride, can it?” Austin sat forward, watching the choppers soar through the air.
“Not likely,” Jarrod replied, hopping to his feet and over to the edge of the cliff in one swift motion. Two of the aircrafts circled around the town and laid waste to an unseen enemy with heavy machine gun fire. The third lowered to the ground just outside the city wall, dropping off foot soldiers. Jarrod peered through his binoculars and adjusted the settings. A painted-on American flag came into focus on the side panel. “They're our guys for sure, but they're not dressed in any uniform I've seen.”
