by LC Champlin
A comfortable moment of silence passed. “Now,” he resumed, “we should all obtain what rest we can. I have a feeling tomorrow and perhaps the days to come will offer little in way of respite.”
She turned to meet his eyes. Her palm slid along on his left trapezius, toward the still-numb scar. She stopped just inferior to it, yet held his gaze. “Albin, I . . .”
“Go to bed, Amanda. Sleep well.” He graced her with a gentle smile.
Chapter 68
With Your Shield
Carry Me Back Home – Blues Saraceno
June 6, 2016—
The next day passed with the tense air of an army before a pitched battle. The Musters kept watch and also searched the Internet for news and information. Many of the servers remained down. Google, with its offices in Silicon Valley, had suffered a significant blow. Taylor reported with much gravity that many social-networking sites experienced outages.
After gathering what intelligence he could, Albin watched Kenichi-san’s video for the final time. The plan sounded simple enough: enter the stadium, turn off the power, and wait for the authorities to arrive. Kenichi-san had evidently alerted them. The identification and uniform in the duffel bags would see him past the security checkpoint. Judge accompanying him would increase his credibility.
Although Behrmann and Bridges—and Denver—volunteered to accompany him, and the tense smile on Amanda’s lips indicated she would have done so as well if not for her maternal obligations, he declined their company.
He explained, “Kenichi-san provided a plan that I see no reason to change. It is a mission I am capable of handling alone. I would prefer to endanger as few people as possible. However, a driver would be—”
“I’ll go.” Behrmann bolted up from where they sat around the dining room table.
“Well then,” Bridges responded, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’ll stay here and hold the fort down with the Musters.”
Amanda folded her arms as she sat back in her chair. “You don’t have to sound so excited. But if we need to escape, you’re the best man, from what I’ve heard, to help us.”
“Maybe.” His gaze, however, remained on Behrmann. It held the longing of a schoolboy pining for a sports car.
“I need to scout the area.” Albin pushed back his chair and stood. “I will remain in the area, keeping a low profile until darkness falls.”
“I don’t like this,” Amanda responded as she frowned up at him. “I know Ken has done a lot for you, but I can’t help thinking of what he did to you at his Fortress. What if this is another trick?”
Valid thoughts, and ones that had haunted him since the message at the Walden airport. “Kenichi-san has good reason to wish LOGOS stopped. If they gain control of the cannibals, his underworld fantasy will evaporate.”
Now Behrmann frowned in disapproval, as if he chose the worst of many acceptable options. “What about when we want to stop the affected? Then we’ll be his enemy.”
Obviously. “At the moment, he has no reason to wish us dead when we can do more for him alive. Do not forget, he considers us his players.”
“I suppose we don’t have much else to go on,” Amanda sighed as she stood. “We haven’t heard from the authorities.”
Taylor looked between her mother and Albin. “If it means stopping LOGOS from taking over the world, then it’s something we have to risk.”
“That’s right!” declared Denver, springing to her feet from where she had sat cross-legged on a chair. “This could be the final moment. If they take over, we’ll probably all be dead meat anyway.”
This earned her a sharp look from her mother. “Denver!”
“No,” Albin interceded to forestall the maternal argument. “She is correct. We must not turn back in the face of difficulty. To do so would be to surrender, and I do not surrender.” Not without a purpose, rather.
Gathering their equipment, Albin and Behrmann prepared to depart.
“Be careful,” Bridges advised Albin, reaching for a handshake.
“I will.”
The economist turned to the reporter, placing his hand in her arm as he gave a lopsided smile. “Josephine, watch yourself out there. Don’t be too much of the story if it means getting yourself killed.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She grinned.
Judge licked Bridges’s hand.
“You’ll be back, girl!” he encouraged.
Meanwhile, Amanda approached Albin, worry on her features but courage in her eyes and posture. “Come back with your shield, not on it.” She took him by the shoulders, holding his gaze. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
Behind her, Taylor and Denver shuffled their feet, evidently uncomfortable at the farewells. The children had lived as privileged members of an elite society, but in the last few weeks, they had experienced more hardship than most Westerners suffered in their entire lives. However, they did not carry the haunted expressions of refugees in the Middle East or Africa; they reflected the indomitable American spirit.
Albin smiled at them, then shifted it to Amanda. “Invictus. I will complete the hunt that others may live.” His hand rose of its own will to cup Amanda’s cheek.
The second-in-command of Redwood Shores regarded him, hope lighting her face, replacing the anxiety. “Where there is life, there is hope,” she murmured.
And hope sprang eternal.
Chapter 69
Ant Society
This is War – Thirty Seconds to Mars
June 6, 2016—
A choking sound from Nathan’s left—Birk. “They’re all cannibals down there. I never thought . . .”
“What,” Sophia grunted, “feeling guilty? They would have done this without you. It’s not like Doorway Pharma’s research was the only data they used.”
The cannibal sea continued to dominate Nathan’s attention. “What did you think would happen, Doctor?” A question he could apply to himself after his actions in the past few weeks. What had he expected? To become ruler of San Francisco, then the surrounding areas. All for the good of the people, of course. Birk, on the other hand, did it only for profit.
“We have to get out of here,” Birk muttered. “We can’t do this. You are insane to even think—”
“Enough.” Nathan’s hand snaked out to seize Birk by the collar, but diverted at the last instant, landing on the twit’s shoulder. A gentle touch might serve their ends better. “Focus. Where are the satellite transceivers?” Give Birk’s stalled brain a mission.
“Wh-what?” The researcher blinked as if awakened from a nightmare. “Oh. See those thicker supports that jut out over the stands, under the lighting?” He pointed up at the rows of dark discs that blotted out the stars: stadium lights. They ran along a railing and walkway several yards above the highest seats. At intervals, square supports roughly three feet across met the lights.
It looked painfully high in person.
++++++++++++
June 6, 2016—A few hours earlier . . .
Albin drove while Behrmann navigated to the Broncos stadium.
“Thank you for letting me come along,” Behrmann commented as she looked out the window at the passing residential buildings.
“Are you certain you trust my judgment?” Of the people who traveled with him, only she had followed Mr. Serebus despite knowing his sins. Did she consider this loyalty? Loyalty to the all-consuming Story, no doubt.
“Of course!” She blinked at him in confusion. “Why would you think I don’t trust you?”
Logically, he should have broached this topic earlier, but the situation never seemed appropriate or . . . private. “You thought I was experiencing stress or was deluded when I said we should leave Redwood Shores.”
“I was trying to help you and Nathan.” She looked taken aback. “You were both worked up. You admit that, right?”
“For good reason, but yes.” No shame lay in confessing the truth.
“And will
you admit you made the situation at least a little worse by what you did?” Righteous assurance burned in her words. She rested one arm on the Jeep’s window as she regarded him.
“I have already admitted we both acted in ways that were uncalled for.” Eyes locked on the road, he guided the vehicle along the course the GPS highlighted. “That is partially why I am undertaking the mission that I am. However, I wish to be certain I have your full cooperation.”
“You mean, will I run out on you?”
“If that is how you choose to word it. You offered me no assistance when I attempted to reach Mr. Serebus at the apartment complex in North Redwood Shores—”
“No assistance? You’re wrong.” Her voice barely rose above the ambient hum of the motor and road. “If I hadn’t tried to rein him in, he might have murdered you and Mason then and there.”
Tapping his index fingers on the wheel, Albin responded, “We each have loyalties to our own purposes. The story you worship is here, at least for the time being. I know you will not desert it.”
Instead of the cutting response for which he braced, Behrmann looked out the side window. “There’s more than a story here. There are people. And I am a part of the story with them.”
“Your fondest wish has been realized, then: you are helping create the story you are reporting.” This differed little from the mainstream media as a whole. “I hope you win the Pulitzer or whatever other prize your colleages have invented to congratulate one another.”
“What’s gotten into you? What—”
“I have neglected this issue for too long.”
“Are you looking for an apology?” Genuine curiosity filled her voice and expression.
“Why should I look for the living among the dead? You have nothing for which to apologize. You were ‘doing your job.’ I understand. Now I am doing mine.”
“I know.”
Silence as heavy and uncomfortable as a hair shirt descended. Let her consider her actions as they appeared to him rather than in the unrelenting glare of her self-righteousness. Perhaps she would learn what it meant to truly “make a difference,” as she put it.
Albin sniffed. “I am capable of performing this mission alone, but I feel more confident with backup nearby.”
“I don’t know how much I can back you up, especially if I’m not in the building.” The words held all the emotion of a PhD thesis.
He shook his head, dismissing her doubt. “It is enough that you drive.”
“I can do that.”
“Tell me, Ms. Josephine, did you truly believe in what Mr. Serebus was doing at Redwood Shores, or were you simply following the most dramatic player in the story?”
“I . . .” She squinted at the brightness of the question. Then she released a breath. “I did believe in it. And in him. I wanted to believe things would get better—I still do—and that he had things under control. I really did want to bring peace between you two. He never mentioned that he tried to kill you that last time.”
Albin glanced at her. The omission indicated either Mr. Serebus knew she would not approve, or he did not feel pride for his action.
“When Amanda told me what he did,” she pressed on, “after you spoke with her right before the evacuation, I didn’t believe it at first. In fact, not until he admitted it later did I see the truth.”
“Now we move on. If we stop LOGOS, what will you do with your story?” If the organization ruled the world, no one would care about Nathan Serebus’s story. At best, LOGOS might use it as propaganda for their people. Then again, what need had they of propaganda when they could easily infect even their own members?
Behrmann shook her head, lips pressed into a line. “I’m not sure yet. There are a lot of options, like a tell-all, or a broadcast series. I guess we’ll have to see how the story ends, eh?”
“So it appears.” A pleasant if not happy ending, preferably. Though as the strife wore on, any ending would come as a relief . . . and a release.
Chapter 70
Duty Calls
The Orginal – Oh The Larceny
June 6, 2016—
Nathan came prepared: he pulled a nylon climbing harness from his drop pouch. Might as well gear up while he had a modicum of safety. “I’ll attempt the one above us.”
Sophia’s glare swept over the cannibals. “I can take one of the other exits. It shouldn’t be too hard to slide past the oil-pukers and get into the other side.”
Jaw pulsing, Nathan scanned the arena. “I don’t like it. If there are cannibals in the halls, they’ll attack you.”
“Not if I’m quiet. Remember our secret weapons?” She smirked.
Birk the perpetual optimist snorted. “Ridiculous nonsense. Wrapping yourself up like a baked potato? It isn’t going to help.”
Sophia regarded him with a bored expression. “Let me do my work, and I’ll let you do yours. It’s the best idea we have.”
“It is until we reach the satellite transceivers,” Nathan replied. “Assuming, Birk, you’re not lying to us about them giving off a weak repellent signal.”
Birk’s nostrils flared as he stuck out his chest. “I’m here too, you know. Why the hell would I lie about that? I’m dead meat if those things get loose. The transceivers have the repellent frequency to keep them safe from cannibals.”
“A shame you couldn’t whip up a frequency generator for us.”
“A shame you couldn’t either. From what I heard while I was at Mercury, you did a surprisingly effective job of that in California.” He crossed his arms, smug. “You must have used my and Doorway’s data.”
“Among other sources. The files Lexa provided were the key.” Ah, the small cuts.
Birk bristled, then composed himself. “Are we going to stop them, or are we going to exchange pleasantries all night?”
Nathan finished the adjustments on his harness. “By all means. Do you want to lead the way?” Arm out toward the door.
Reddening, the researcher held his ground. Victory.
Nathan returned to the door. Leaving the safety of the Club suites did not appeal, but duty called—and soon the satellite would too.
“One,” Sophia counted, “two, three!” She swung out first, with Nathan behind.
No cannibals in the hall.
“Once we get out there, take the escalator,” Sophia instructed, gesturing with her pistol at the rear of the stadium. “It should put us past the cannibals.”
“Sure,” Birk muttered, lip curled, “we won’t have to fire a shot.”
“Shut it.” Her hand on the glass doors leading to the concourse, she turned to Nathan. “Get to the top floor as fast as you can. Radio me if you need to change skycam towers. Otherwise, signal when you’re at the one above us.”
“Be careful.” Nathan clapped her on the shoulder. They might have played for different teams at first, but now they all played for the fate of humanity. Damn, that sounded dramatic.
++++++++++++
June 6, 2016—A few hours earlier . . .
Albin and Behrmann rode in silence for the remainder of the trip to the stadium, less than ten minutes. Albin parked a block west of the Broncos field, behind the shuttered El Patron’s Sports Bar.
After glancing about at the location’s plethora of deserted fast-food-product chains and finding the area secure, he proceeded to the rear of the vehicle. There he produced a drone that could fit into a shoe box. The machine resembled the craft Kenichi-san had supplied when he sent Albin, Bridges, and Kuznetsov against Redwood Shores.
Albin powered it on as Behrmann joined him. She watched it ascend into the afternoon sky until it vanished in the blue, at which point she came to his side to watch the drone’s camera feed on the handheld controller. The view also streamed to the glasses Kenichi-san had included. Like Google Glass, they provided the wearer a display that would recognize hand gestures and track eyes movement.
The drone sped toward the Coliseum-like stadium.<
br />
“Albin, what are Amanda’s plans?” enquired Behrmann, attention on the screen.
“You must ask her that yourself.” No doubt the reporter had, and she wished to ascertain his level of knowledge.
“She seems to have a lot of concern for you. Do you feel the same for her?” The question did not sound as if it sprang from a reporter’s tongue.
“I feel concern and a certain amount of responsibility for all my traveling companions.” Why did she choose now to bother him with this nonsense?
On the camera feed, the inside of the stadium came into focus. Tens of thousands of people filled it, milling in the stands and on the field. No, not people but cannibals. Kenichi-san had spoken the truth when he said the city of Denver sequestered the infected subjects here.
Behrmann gasped.
A catwalk encircled the top of the stadium like a crown, behind the lights that could turn night into day. Black discs resided at the end of a number of support pillars: the satellite transceivers LOGOS planned to activate.
“You’re aware,” Behrmann cut in on his thoughts, “that she likes you in more than a friendly way?”
“Mm.” He eased the drone closer to the transceivers.
“It’s just—I don’t know how aware you are when people make advances,” she finished the sentence in a rush. “Most people like you are too focused on work to notice.”
His brows knit, half from the concentration he required for the flight, and half from amusement. No doubt she felt obliged to inform him of these developments because he may not return from his expedition. “Ms. Josephine, I hardly think this is the time—”
“Then when is a good time?” she demanded as she stood back and spread her arms.
