H.A.L.F.: ORIGINS

by Natalie Wright

  “Early reports indicate that as many as three thousand people have been killed.” Frank shook his head in disbelief and wiped sweat from his upper lip. Officials say it could be weeks before power is completely restored in England.”

  While the events were certainly a shock to most, they were all expected—predictable even—for William Croft. The Conexus had told his father years before that a warrior species would arrive to harvest the Earth’s most plentiful source of protein. The Conexus had been vague, however, about the date. The Conexus were from a far-off future, and the knowledge of an attack was from their past. Details had been lost to time. What remained in Conexus archives was more legend than clearly detailed history.

  “So it has begun,” Croft said. His voice was a low whisper meant more for himself than for Frank.

  “Sir?”

  Croft waved him off. “It is not important. Carry on.”

  Frank hesitated, his hands clasped in his lap, and he rubbed his right thumb nervously over his left hand. “Sir, what shall I tell the crew? Are we to be on standby to return to London at your command?”

  Frank had no way of grasping the truth. They were likely never going back to England. Croft decided against telling him. If the British and US governments wanted to spread the lie of a terror attack to prevent widespread hysteria, he would not interfere with their disinformation campaign.

  “Yes, remain on standby, Frank. I have some business here in New York, but be ready to leave at any time.”

  “Yes, sir.” Frank hurried down the aisle toward the cockpit.

  William had, as his father before him, spent his life preparing for the very events that were unfolding. Two lifetimes of preparation lay nearly in ruins, thanks to Lillian Sturgis and his daughter. Sturgis had let that teenage hybrid escape. Somehow, he and his friends had ended up with the antivirus the Conexus had promised to William. Rage filled him, and he pounded the armrest in frustration.

  Croft gripped both armrests in his hands and took deep breaths. Losing his temper would do no good. The antivirus would be his again. He had simply to steal it back. It was, after all, promised to him.

  Once he properly scolded Lizzy, they would head to Arizona. His lip curled at the thought of it. He detested the heat and dust and lack of green in the place. He would have much preferred his underground city to be built nearly anywhere else on the planet. Once underground, though, it would not matter. A mile beneath the surface was the same, the world over.

  He had unfinished business there—one hybrid to rid himself of rather than risk it destroying what he had worked toward, another hybrid to recapture. This time I will see personally to her reprogramming.

  6

  JACK

  The hour was well past noon when Jack finally woke. He was shocked Anna had let him sleep so long. They’d lost nearly eighteen hours of driving time.

  Thomas wasn’t in the room, and Jack was relieved to have a bit of time to himself. He stood under the spittle of lukewarm water coming from the lime-encrusted showerhead and tried not to see the faces of the men he’d killed. Whenever he tried to think about something other than death and hell breaking loose in Europe, his mind drifted to Anna. Those thoughts weren’t much better. Inevitably, he’d imagine running his hands through her silky hair and kissing the divot at the base of her neck. Then he’d feel guilty for daydreaming about making out with Anna when he should have been worried about Erika, Ian, and his mom.

  His stomach hurt. He couldn’t remember when they’d last eaten. After what had gone down at the Croft penthouse, none of them felt much like eating. Jack skipped shaving and shoved the blood-spattered “Steve Harper” work clothes to the bottom of his duffel.

  He walked to Anna’s room in search of Thomas. Before he even knocked on the door, he heard the TV blaring from inside. Found Thomas.

  The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened. Jack’s heart quickened at the sight of Anna. Her freshly washed hair was hanging in blond curtains. Her face was cleaned of dried blood. Even the scar across her eye seemed paler and less angry though the iris in that eye was still milky. Her face brightened at the sight of him, and she forced a small smile.

  “You sure do clean up well, Jack Wilson.” Her voice was a breathy, hushed whisper.

  He bowed slightly. “As do you, Anna Sturgis.”

  She blushed, and he flashed her a mischievous smile as he entered, leaving her standing at the door.

  Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes glued to the television screen. Alecto was again curled into an upright ball with her back against the headboard, her head tucked to her knees.

  How long is she going to do that?

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved,” Jack said. “Anybody want to go to the diner across the street for some grub?”

  Anna answered by tucking her room key and a small black wallet into a back jeans pocket. “Let’s go,” she said while putting on her jacket.

  Thomas answered by gesturing for Anna to get out of the way of the TV screen. For her part, Alecto remained a motionless blob, her head a shiny dome over her knees.

  Jack was glad of the chance to spend time alone with Anna. He’d grown accustomed to her company on the trip to NYC and their days of stakeout. That seemed like months before even though less than a week had passed, and his life in Ajo seemed like a hazy dream or perhaps a movie he’d seen once.

  The diner was nearly empty, but they asked for a booth in the back corner. They drank hot black coffee and avoided talking about Anna’s dead father, men Jack had killed, battle wounds they nursed, and the threat of world war looming in Europe.

  Steering clear of topics that would allow their open wounds to fester left them with little to talk about. They downed enough greasy-spoon food to feed four people without saying much more than “pass the salt,” but the silence between them was not the uncomfortable, awkward silence of a new relationship. Jack felt as though he’d been with Anna for years instead of weeks. Only we’re not really together.

  Anna finally pushed a plate covered in syrup and pancake crumbs away from her. “I can’t believe I ate so much of this horrid food.” She looked disgusted.

  Jack stuffed another large forkful into his mouth, thinking he’d had worse. “What’s our plan for the day?”

  Anna glanced around as if making sure no one was listening. She leaned across the table slightly and whispered, “I should contact Mr. Sewell.”

  Jack washed down the pasty pancake with a long draw of coffee. “Probably a good idea. With all that’s happened.” He hoped Sewell had more information about the Miramar prison than he had given them about Croft’s penthouse. Since Sewell still had one foot in the door of the Croft organization, he should be able to fill them in on what the Crofts had been up to since leaving NYC.

  Anna wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and stared at the black liquid inside as if the mug was a scrying bowl and she could divine the future by staring at it.

  Jack pushed his plate to one side and touched her hand. Despite the warmth of the mug, her delicate hand was still cold.

  “Anna?”

  She looked up at him. Her eyes glistened.

  Jack’s voice was low and soft. “Talk to me.”

  She put her cup down, their contact broken. Anna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she took a deep breath, and within seconds, she had put on a mask of calm. The false smile she plastered on would have fooled most people into believing that all was right with her world, but Jack knew better. He was a bit disturbed by how quickly she could go from looking as though she was on the edge of losing it to the picture of serenity.

  “For Christ’s sake Anna, your dad just got killed. Your brother was shot, you were kidnapped and tortured by your friggin’ cousin, and your mom—”

  “I know what happened,” she hissed. As quickly as she had put on a mask of calm, her face was a storm of anger.

  Jack put up his hands in a conciliatory don’t-shoot gesture. “I’
m just trying to help. You shouldn’t keep stuff all bottled up.”

  Anna took a last swig of coffee and rose, grabbing the check to pay. “Don’t presume to tell me what I need.” She walked toward the register before Jack could say anything else to piss her off further.

  She was acting as though he’d been an asshat to her, but as far as he could see, all he’d tried to do was help. Rich girls from NYC were no less a mystery to him than poor girls from rural Arizona. He seemed to be in perpetual hot water with both despite wanting nothing more than to see them smile.

  Anna paid the bill and got several dollars’ worth of quarters that she stuffed into her pockets. Jack followed as she pushed through the door. He had to practically run to keep up with her.

  She hurried to the pay phone up the street as she pulled the collar closer to her neck. Winter had finally arrived in Missouri.

  They were still off grid, which still sucked. Jack would have preferred making the call on a cell phone in the relative comfort of the grungy hotel room rather than freezing his nads off at a payphone. He blew on his cupped hands and wished for gloves. Anna pulled the door to the pay phone closed, putting a glass wall between them, her back to him. He watched her feed quarters into the antiquated public phone.

  He tried to listen in on Anna’s conversation. Her back was toward him, so he went to the other side so he could see her face. Her left hand was to her ear so she could hear better. She looked up when she saw him. The look on her face was indecipherable.

  Jack couldn’t hear much of what she said. She mainly listened, and at one point she shook her head and said no. The crease in her brow was back.

  Anna finally hung up. Her gloved hand lingered on the receiver, and she stared at it as she’d stared at the cup of coffee. She swung the glass door open, gave Jack a curt nod, and walked back to the hotel.

  Jack was the hired help, but Anna had never treated him as such—until then.

  He ran after her and tugged on her arm. “Hey. What’d he say? Or am I too lowly to talk to now?”

  Anna stopped and stared at him, her upper lip curled in disgust.

  He was ashamed that her look of repugnance was directed at him.

  “Really? You think now is a good time to be needy?” She shook her head and continued her walk away from him.

  A part of him begged himself to let it go. It was the part of himself that avoided conflict and that played along when girls said things like “Just friends, okay?”

  Jack was tired of playing along and keeping his thoughts to himself, though. It wasn’t “needy” to want to know what Anna and Sewell had planned for them. Their plans would affect his his life too after all.

  Jack caught up to her easily and pulled her again, that time more forcefully. “Stop, Anna.”

  She stopped and shot him a look that could melt glass.

  “It’s not needy to want to know the plan for my life. I was conscripted into this, remember?”

  Her look remained fiery. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that your torture will soon be over.”

  Jack was afraid to ask the inevitable question. Their original goal had been to free her Aunt Lilly from prison. If I’m being cut loose, does that mean her Aunt Lilly is dead?

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “My Aunt Lilly has been set free.”

  7

  ERIKA

  A statue of the Virgin Mary wobbled back and forth on the dash of the Olds Cutlass that Erika and Tex had hijacked. The driver clasped his hands at his chest, his head bowed as he mumbled prayers. Tex drove the car from the back seat.

  Erika no longer heard helicopters chasing them, which was little comfort. She’d thought they were free before, only to have something hunting them around the next corner.

  “What’s your name?” Erika asked.

  The man shot her a furtive look. “Gary.”

  “We’re going to switch places, Gary. You scoot across, and I’m going to skittle over top of you. Got it?”

  “But we’ll… I’ve got to steer, or—”

  “You’re not steering now,” Erika said.

  Gary’s eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears.

  “Do as she says.” Tex’s voice was cold and ominous from the back seat. He could be so boyish and naïve at times that it was difficult to remember what he was capable of. Please Gary, just do what he asks.

  Gary scooched across the seat while Erika climbed over him. They were a tangle of limbs. At one point, she was awkwardly stuck with her butt in his face, but finally Erika was behind the wheel.

  “I can take over now,” she said.

  Erika made eye contact with Tex in the rearview mirror. His face was so calm and pale that he looked like a statue.

  “You need to rest.”

  “I need to stay awake. The copters still search.”

  Erika didn’t doubt that. If Croft were anything like Sturgis, he wouldn’t easily give up the effort to find Tex. The exploding truck was evidence that Croft no longer cared about taking Tex alive. If they find us in this car, they’ll kill us all.

  Erika pressed down on the accelerator, but it was already to the floor. Tex still had control. “Look, if I hear or see the choppers, I’ll wake you. Besides, I know the location of Dana’s house. You don’t.”

  Tex didn’t say anything, but the car slowed and started to veer off the road. Erika hurriedly grabbed the wheel and pressed the accelerator to the floor. They were on I-10, headed east. In another hour, they’d be to Tucson, and if she continued on main roads, they’d make it to her Aunt Dana’s place in New Mexico in about seven hours. Their only advantage was that Croft’s men had no idea where Erika and Tex were headed. We’ll find a place to let Gary out after we get north of Tucson.

  Erika adjusted the seat so her feet more readily reached the pedals. The pistol she’d jammed into her waist pressed uncomfortably into her back. She pulled it out of her waistband and placed it on the seat next to her. Gary’s eyes grew wide.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you. This is for protection only.”

  Gary didn’t look relieved.

  “I’m just caught up in a bad mess, but I’m not a bad person,” Erika said.

  “Said the girl who carries a gun, hijacks cars, and kidnaps people,” Gary said.

  Erika averted her gaze from his eyes. He was right. She didn’t feel like a good person, at least not anymore. She’d never tried to be goody-goody before, and no one was likely to have accused her of that before the she got involved in the mess with Tex, but she had never considered herself a bad person. And I’ve killed a man too, Gary. Don’t forget to add that to the list.

  Tex took Erika’s suggestion and withdrew into himself. His eyes shut, and he pulled into a tight ball in the back seat. Gary sat silent and still on the seat next to her, his eyes glassy and fixed forward. Erika drove in silence.

  They hit Tucson before morning rush hour and breezed past it with little traffic to slow them. Though the speed limit was seventy-five, she kept the speedometer needle pushed past one hundred. She hoped she wouldn’t get pulled over for speeding. She didn’t want to see what Tex might do to a hapless cop who tried to give Erika a speeding ticket.

  After two hours of driving, they were well east of Tucson and less than an hour from the border of Arizona and New Mexico. Even when they’d hit Tucson, she hadn’t slowed down. She’d seen no more signs that the Makers pursued them and she hadn’t been pulled over. No one has luck that good, especially not me.

  Erika remembered how Tex had immobilized police cars that tried to chase them that first night Jack drove his Jetta into the night. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Tex was as still as a stone. He didn’t appear to be paying a bit of attention to anything going on in the world around them, but she had no idea where he went when he withdrew. Maybe he’s aware on a level humans don’t understand.

  The sun was well up, a bright October day. Erika pulled some cheap, wire-frame sunglasses from the visor. They w
ere so large on her small head that they covered her face from above her brows to mid cheekbone.

  Erika had put the car on cruise control set at one hundred. The road was smooth, flat, and straight. Without anyone talking, she had nearly dozed off when she came upon signs announcing a border-patrol checkpoint.

  She slammed on the brakes and slowed the car. “Border patrol. Gary, you’re not an illegal alien, are you?”

  Gary glared at her.

  Tex’s voice, low, soft, and muffled came from the back seat. “He may not be, but I am. We cannot go through that checkpoint.”

  Erika tore the large sunglasses from her face and attempted to hand them back to Tex. “Here. Put these on and your hat, and—”

  “No,” Tex said. “Black uniforms, Erika.”

  They were still far enough away that Erika couldn’t tell the color of the uniforms the men wore, but Tex’s senses were keener than hers. If he said the uniforms were black, she believed him. The Makers men had worn all black. Her dad had never worn black in all the years he was with border patrol.

  “You must turn around. Now.”

  They had nowhere to go but across the wide median covered in desert plants and high, scrubby grass. Erika turned sharply to the left, and the car bounced over the rumble strips and hit the median. She was going so quickly and had turned so sharply that the car nearly rolled, but Erika got the steering under control and sped across the median.

  She checked the rearview mirror. Black-clad men that had been standing by orange cones funneling cars to a central checkpoint were scrambling toward a patrol vehicle. Erika pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  “Looks like they’re in pursuit,” she said.

  Tex did not respond.

  Gary grabbed the gun from the seat and pointed it at Erika. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re runnin’, but I’m turning you in. Get back to that checkpoint.”

  In normal circumstances, Erika would have been terrified of a gun pointing at her. Even though Gary’s hands trembled visibly, she had no doubt that fear would just as easily urge him to pull the trigger than prevent it.