Deep State Stealth

by Vikki Kestell

  On the other screen, from deep within the shadows a woman’s voice spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Cruz. I’m so glad to make your acquaintance in person—at long last.”

  She moved into the camera’s view: the mystery woman.

  She was a tiny thing, her age not easy to guess, but her eyes! I knew them. They gleamed gold and amber in the low light.

  “Gemma Keyes. You have led me on a merry chase this past year and a half, I must say.”

  The accent, although faint, was still there, of Asian extraction, coupled, perhaps, with a British inflection?

  “Please. Do not be alarmed or concerned. I have no intention of harming either of you.”

  Neither Zander nor I answered her.

  Jayda Cruz, “Enemies disguise themselves with their lips, but in their hearts they harbor deceit. Though their speech is charming, do not believe them, for seven abominations fill their hearts.”

  “Yeah, Nano. She has no intention of harming us? Right. We’ve kind of got that one figured out.”

  Zander asked, “Nano? Can you piggyback on her feed? Get word to Gamble or Mal where we are?”

  Zander Cruz, the monitors are surrounded by a field of fluctuating electrostatic discharge that we cannot penetrate. The cabling to the monitors is encased in a similar field that runs outside this house and extends beyond our reach. We have already lost many members in our attempts to reach her feed. Given enough time we could—

  “Wireless access?”

  The entire facility is shielded. No wireless signal can penetrate the shielding.

  The woman cleared her throat. “I invite you to give your attention to the other screen.”

  The camera on the babies zoomed out of the car, looked down the street, and stopped on the Uumbanas’ house.

  “As you can see, the children are not far from their home. When both of you enter the cage, my people will return the infants to their parents. You have precisely sixty seconds to comply. If you choose not to, my people will reenter your friends’ home and take hold of the three-year-old boy.

  “Listen carefully: At that point, no matter what you do, my people have orders to slit the boy’s throat in front of his parents. The clock starts now.”

  A counter reading 00.60 appeared on the woman’s monitor. It began counting down.

  00.59

  00.58

  I started to panic. “How do we know you’ll return the babies?” I shouted.

  She shrugged. “I am not a monster. I have no reason to harm them.”

  I gasped. “Not a monster? Not a monster?”

  “I have seen many children die at the hands of this nation’s military. Does that not make this nation monstrous?”

  Zander tugged at me. “Jayda. Forty seconds.”

  “I know, I know—but the babies—”

  The woman’s voice, sing-song and melodic, continued. “After the boy dies, you will realize that I am a woman of my word. I will give you an opportunity to save the infants before my people slit their throats—one at a time, just like their brother.”

  “No! You wouldn’t!”

  “Jay! Thirty seconds!”

  I shook off Zander’s hand and stuck my face into the camera above the monitor.

  “Anyone who would harm a child is a monster,” I hissed, “a monster who needs to be destroyed. If you harm those children, I will kill you.”

  I knew I was wrong, that my thirst for “right” was really vengeance masquerading as “justice.” Right then, in my anger, I didn’t care.

  I marched to the cell and climbed through the little door, sensing as soon as I stood how claustrophobic its dimensions were. Zander followed me in, headfirst, the hatch harder for his larger frame to crawl through. When he stood, the top of his head brushed the ceiling—and the counter ticked down to fifteen seconds.

  Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven.

  The entrance to the cell did not close. I clutched at Zander’s hand.

  Lord! Not little Daniel! Please protect him!

  Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

  The cell still remained open.

  Six. Five. Four. Three.

  A metal mesh screen flashed across the entrance and clicked into place. An acrylic panel crossed from the opposite side, completing the inside acrylic cube. A second acrylic panel slid into place completing the outer cube.

  Then the cage hanging from the ceiling descended to the cement floor. Its bottom edge locked onto the metal rails in the floor of the pit. Across the basement, the electrical panel came alive and a thrum of current crackled through the cage.

  The counter hit zero.

  “Keep your word!” I screamed. “Give the babies back!”

  “Watch.”

  She spoke into her phone and the second monitor went dark. A minute passed, then several, before the screen came back to life. Denzel and Deshaun were lying on Darius and Macy’s front porch. The monitor again went dark, and Zander and I waited, hoping it would light up and would show someone opening the front door.

  From far down the street, the live feed reengaged and focused on the Uumbanas’ house. Even at a distance, we could see the outlines of the babies. The temperature was warm, but I worried for the newborns lying on the cool cement porch without a blanket to cushion them.

  Oh, Macy, I urged her silently. Open your door!

  The feed was without sound, but we saw the moment someone cracked the front door. It was little Daniel who stood there, gaping. Throwing the door wide open, he ran back inside. Moments later, Macy and Darius appeared. They scooped the babies up and disappeared inside.

  The monitor went dark.

  “Thank you, Lord,” I breathed.

  The golden-eyed woman smirked. “Thank you, Lord? Oh, that’s right. You are both quite religious.”

  “No, we are not,” Zander answered, “but that’s neither here nor there in this moment. What do you want with us?”

  The woman feigned a little moue of surprise. “Why, the nanomites, of course.”

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  “Hmm. Yes. I’m operating on many suppositions—not that my suppositions are uninformed or baseless. I derived them from the data General Cushing provided, from her first-hand experiences with Gemma, and from my own observations.

  “I am,” she said with a modicum of modesty, “a student of the sciences myself with interests in physics, engineering, and material science.”

  “Bully for you. Won’t get you the nanomites.”

  She chuckled. “Perhaps. My assumptions could be in error, but I am rarely wrong. Shall we test them, my assumptions? Let’s see. First, the nanomites require electrical power to function, and they can draw it from any ready source such as the sun and nearby electrical wiring. Even from you. Am I correct?”

  We didn’t answer.

  “Your silence is confirmation enough. Thank you. Second, your wonderful weapons—I assure you I was both astonished and delighted by your demonstrations—require electrical power, too, although my calculations tell me that, to wield such powerful weapons, you must have a strong power source on which to draw. Is this right?”

  She leaned toward the camera. “Please do me the kindness of testing my theory? I really must know if you can blast your way out of my little structure.”

  I slid my eyes toward Zander. He had a hand cupped behind his back and was attempting to pull current into his palm. The harder he tried—with no result—the farther down his mouth turned.

  Zander Cruz, the Faraday cage prevents electricity from passing into this box. As you surmised earlier, we are unable to access the house’s electricity from inside this box.

  The woman nodded slowly. “May I deduce from your vexation, Mr. Cruz, that you have attempted to draw current into the cage and are unable to? Excellent.”

  “If you know so much about the nanomites, then you know they can easily penetrate the walls of this acrylic/metal cage and escape.”

  She spread her child-sized hands. Something about the
sight seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “If they can escape, why have they not done so? Why haven’t they left the cage, drawn current from the house’s wiring, and broken you free? Is it, perhaps, that the nanomites are susceptible to static discharge—and that they comprehend that the outermost cage is fully charged?”

  “Nano?” I whispered.

  Jayda Cruz, she is correct. Ordinarily, if threatened by static discharge or an electric pulse, the nanocloud would propel a stronger layer of current ahead of us to shield ourselves and you. We cannot do so in these circumstances. If we were to penetrate the acrylic and mesh layers, we could not draw enough current from the charged cage to shield ourselves before the cage’s discharge damaged us.

  Chittering to themselves, they added, This woman has devised a very clever trap.

  The woman sat back and tapped her chin. “I believe Colonel Greaves shot you with a Taser, did he not, Jayda? Or do you prefer Gemma? General Cushing was convinced that the Taser destroyed a large number of your nanomites and rendered you powerless.

  “My third assumption, then, is that the charged outer cage has trapped the nanomites within the cell just as you are trapped. Do you see that panel on the wall over there? I had my electricians bring a new 220-volt service into the house, one separate from the house’s other service, to supply the outer cage.

  “All this leads me to supposition number four: The nanomites cannot survive without electricity, and you, as their host, cannot survive without the nanomites. I’m most interested in knowing the validity of this assumption—because I am counting on them leaving you to save themselves.”

  “You won’t get the nanomites. We have . . . a relationship with them. They will not leave us,” Zander insisted.

  “Oh, I believe they will, given the right circumstances. You see, General Cushing provided us with a number of Dr. Bickel’s programming algorithms, and I have studied them. The good doctor encoded the nanomites with the mandate to survive at all costs, and no source of electricity exists within the cage—except for you and your lovely bride, of course.”

  She mocked us with her next words. “The nanomites will be obliged to drain you to survive, and you cannot feed them forever, can you? Do you know what will happen when they have used you up? I am convinced you do.”

  My first experience with the nanomites’ drain came roaring back. I’d woken up because something was stinging me, because my right hand felt on fire. I was disoriented and weak, unable even to sit on the side of the bed without falling to the floor. I’d crawled a few feet to the door and used the doorframe to pull myself up. As I’d reached a little higher, my fingers had encountered the light switch—and my palm had fastened to the switch plate. The nanomites had glued my hand there while they “fed” from the current inside the switch box.

  If the nanomites hadn’t awakened me, I would have died in my sleep.

  Yes. I knew what would happen when they used us up.

  “When your bodies have failed beyond recovery, the nanomites will leave you willingly and enter the human hosts we will provide. By my calculations, twenty-four hours should suffice for the nanomites to use you up. By then, they will be inclined to adopt new hosts.”

  The woman lifted a phone and pressed a contact’s number. “You may approach the house now.”

  Jayda and Zander Cruz, what that woman says is true. Our programming requires us to survive. That being said, we do not wish to drain you, to kill you. This would not please Jesus, nor would it please us.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Nano. Are you certain you cannot reach outside this . . . this enclosure?”

  We are certain, Jayda Cruz. We sent Delta Tribe members through the walls: They did not return. Therefore, to maximize the length of time we can survive without damaging you or us, we will initiate our emergency shutdown protocols and send all tribes but Alpha Tribe into sleep mode.

  I sat down. “I suppose we should enter ‘low power mode’ ourselves.”

  That would be wise, Jayda Cruz. “The path of life leads upward for the prudent, to keep them from going down to the realm of the dead.”

  “You’re so edifying, Nano.” Not.

  Zander plopped down next to me. “Nano, I am going to give you an order, and I expect you to follow it to the degree that you can. Do you understand?”

  We will do our best, Zander Cruz.

  “I want you to put me into a deep sleep.”

  I went from desperate to furious in a blink. “What? No, Zander!”

  “Nano? I will use less energy while asleep, won’t I?”

  This is true, Zander Cruz.

  “Then knock me out. Do it.”

  Zander laid down and tried to stretch out; the best he could do in the four-by-four cube was roll to his side and pull his knees up.

  I took his hand and held it in mine. “Sweetie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “You know that I love you, too.”

  I gripped his hand. “I’m sure the Lord has an answer. We just need to trust him. Call on him.”

  “I trust him, Jay. I do. And if we don’t make it out of here alive? I’ll still trust him, and I’ll . . . see you . . . in . . . heav—.”

  “Zander?”

  He is sleeping, Jayda Cruz. May we suggest that you lie down and rest, too?

  But I couldn’t do that while that evil creature, from a safe distance, observed us like bugs under glass. I curled up to Zander’s back, but I kept my eyes on her. Soon I started feeling sort of “funny.” Hollow inside. Empty-ish.

  Oh. The tribes. Going off line, going into survival mode.

  That warmth in my lower abdomen where I’d taken the round intensified momentarily, then faded to less than I’d been accustomed to. But it was still there.

  “No sense wasting resources on my wound, Nano. Send those nanomites into sleep mode, too.”

  They didn’t answer me.

  I blinked, my eyes suddenly heavy, and wondered if I was already feeling the drain. Then I heard footfalls overhead and pushed myself up to sitting. Four booted men clomped down the basement steps.

  The woman noticed, too. “You have arrived. Good.”

  She spoke to me. “I do apologize, Jayda, but I have pressing duties to attend to, so it’s goodbye, I’m afraid. When I return, I anticipate that both of you will be drained.

  “At that time, we will open the box and insert two human hosts of our choosing. If you are not yet dead, we will dispatch you quickly. Out of necessity, the nanomites will migrate to the new hosts who can offer them the electricity they need to sustain themselves. When the nanomites have moved to the new hosts, we will allow them to leave the box.”

  I pushed myself up to sitting. “I want to say something to you.”

  She smiled. “Last words?”

  “No, a warning.”

  She laughed low in her throat. “Please, say on.”

  “Earlier you said we were religious. Well, we’re not—because religion is a box very like this one that only serves to separate people from the living God, the Creator of the universe. We aren’t religious because we know the living God and because he dwells within us through his Son, Jesus.”

  “Fables. Myths. Religious claptrap.”

  “I said I had a warning for you, and I meant it. Zander and I belong to the Lord of heaven and earth, which, according to the Bible, makes us his children. God Almighty does not take lightly the ill-treatment of his children.”

  “I see. Should I be worried?”

  “Yes, you should. On the day of your death, you will come face to face with God Almighty. If you stand before the Lord without Jesus, you will face his righteous justice. I’m warning you now to confess your sins and turn to Jesus—before it is too late for you.”

  “How considerate of you, Mrs. Cruz, but I will take my chances. In the meantime? It is you, not I, for whom it is too late.”

  I turned my face away. I’d been obedient. I’d warned
her. Now I refused to give her the pleasure of seeing the tears running down my face.

  Lord?

  She must have dialed her phone again and not felt it necessary to move away from the camera. I heard her whisper, “Everything is in order. Yes. Proceed as planned.”

  Then she addressed her men. “I will return tomorrow evening. Until then, set and maintain a perimeter about one hundred feet out. I charge you with protecting this house and, most importantly, the contents of this cage from any outside intrusion.”

  The contents of this cage.

  She meant the nanomites, not us.

  She already considered us dead.

  THE WOMAN’S MONITOR went dark, and the guards went upstairs and outside to take up their posts, leaving us alone. I laid down against Zander’s back a second time. That warmth in my abdomen reminded me that I had asked the nanomites to stop worrying over the wound.

  “Nano? Don’t you need to conserve as much power as you can? Please send the members around my wound into sleep mode.”

  We have sent all we can, Jayda Cruz. Members of Alpha Tribe have taken their place and will maintain their position until it is no longer possible.

  I drew in a shallow breath, sensing a creeping weakness stealing over me. “I don’t understand. Why? What’s . . . so important that you can’t let it go?”

  I should have automatically known the answer to that question, but I didn’t.

  The nanomites were hiding something.

  When they didn’t respond to me, I probed the nanocloud and found a sliver of Alpha Tribe’s library that I was unable to access.

  It wasn’t the first time the nanomites had hidden things from me. When they had blocked me in the past, their actions had resulted in all-out conflict between us. But today, in our desperate situation? I didn’t want to fight with them. If Zander and I were going to die here, I didn’t want to die with contention between me and the nanomites. Instead, I just continued to ask them.

  “Nano? What are you keeping from me?”

  No answer.

  “Nano?”

  Nothing.

  “I’m not going to let this go, so you might as well spill it.”