by M. R. Forbes
22
Detective Lyle tapped the panel in front of Evelyn Shine's door, sending a signal into the apartment.
"The resident of this unit is not currently present," came the canned response. "Please remove yourself from the vicinity of this door or law enforcement will be notified."
Lyle looked back at Mitchell again, rolling his eyes.
"I know you're in there, Evelyn," he shouted. "I'm not as dumb as I look."
There was no response.
"Please remove yourself from the vicinity of this door or law enforcement will be notified," the computer repeated.
"I am law enforcement," Lyle said, tapping his badge against the panel.
"Please state the warrant number and case number for proper search of this unit."
"Come on, Evelyn. I'm not looking to make trouble. I need your expertise."
"You're sure she's home?" Mitchell asked.
"Positive. Evelyn, we can help one another. You know it never hurts to have a cop on your side."
"Please state-"
"I don't have one," Lyle snapped. "Evelyn, don't make me enter illegally. It won't turn out well for you."
Mitchell was surprised. He had pegged the Detective for being completely honest, but that didn't seem to be the case.
"Evelyn," Lyle said again.
The door opened.
The woman behind it was pencil-thin, with pixie hair and a sullen face bathed in dark eyeliner and lipstick. She didn't look happy to see Lyle.
"Detective. Sending me to prison once wasn't enough for you?"
"You did that to yourself," Lyle replied. "Don't crack user accounts, don't go to prison. It's simple."
"What the hell do you want?" she asked. She noticed Mitchell. "Who's your friend? He's handsome."
"Can we come in?" Lyle asked.
"You promise you won't bust me again?"
"I'll tell you what. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. The next time I've got evidence, I'll tell you, and then I'll lose it. One free pass. One. Got it?"
She smiled and stepped aside. "Come on in, Detective. You, too, handsome friend."
Mitchell entered the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, the floor covered in boxes. A bag was laying open in the center of it, some clothes already piled in.
"Going somewhere?" Lyle asked.
"I was. Maybe I won't now." She noticed the top of one of the boxes was open, and she hurried over to close it.
Mitchell glanced at Lyle. It was obvious she was doing something illegal. Would he call her on it?
"So, what's your name?" she said to him.
"Re - Mitchell," he replied.
"Re-mitchell? Is that like some New Anglican thing?"
"Just Mitchell."
"You have a girlfriend, just Mitchell?"
"Mitchell's in intelligence. Military intelligence," Lyle said. "I'm helping him work a case."
Mitchell took the data card from his pocket. "I'm looking for someone who can extract the data from this."
"Military intelligence, eh?" Evelyn said. "A bit of a misnomer." She laughed at her bad joke. "Can I see it?"
Mitchell handed her the card. She held it up to the light, clucking her tongue as she did.
"Hmm. I haven't seen a card like this since I was in grade school. I may have something that can open it." She gave it back to him. "What's in it for me?"
"We had an agreement," Lyle said.
"No, our first agreement was to let you in. This is a separate deal."
"Damn it, Evelyn."
"Sorry, that's how the game is played."
"How about, you open the card, I don't bust you for the four hundred pounds of narcotics you have in those boxes?"
"You can't prove that."
Lyle grabbed the top of one of the boxes and pulled it open.
"Hey, you have no right," Evelyn said. "Illegal search."
"You invited me in."
Lyle tipped the box. IV bags were stacked inside, filled with a brownish liquid.
"Fine. Whatever," she said. "I'll be right back."
She stormed from the room, through another door. Mitchell could hear crashing and pounding from wherever she had gone. Then she returned with a small black box with a wire that reached up to her AR glasses.
"Give it here, hotshot," she said.
Mitchell handed the card back. Evelyn shoved it into a small slot on the box. Her right eye starting flicking back and forth a moment later.
"It's encrypted," she said.
"We knew that," Mitchell replied. "We need to get in."
"Where'd you get this from, anyway?" Evelyn said.
"We're not at liberty to say," Lyle said. "Why?"
"Data cards exited the market for good seven years ago. This box?" She shook it in her hand. "It's a convertor. I made it myself. It bi-directionally parses the data on the card into a more modern format."
"Great," Lyle said. "So?"
"It's responding too quickly. I don't think it's parsing anything."
"Talk to me like I'm an idiot," Lyle said.
"I already am, Detective," Evelyn replied. "But if you need it mentally-challenged-style, the data on this card is written in a format that didn't exist when it was created."
"So the data is newer than the card?" Mitchell asked.
"No. Whoever wrote this must have invented the format. That's why I was curious where you got it from."
"Who invented the format?" Mitchell asked, curious.
"Some super-genius at Nova Taurus, I would guess," Evelyn said. "The latest specs came out of there."
"Nova Taurus?" The name sounded vaguely familiar to Mitchell.
"They're a tech company," Lyle said. "Massively profitable. They do a lot of work for the military. Most new stuff is coming out of their labs nowadays. It isn't surprising."
"What is surprising is that whoever wrote this didn't expect you to try to read it for quite a while," Evenlyn said.
"Twenty years," Mitchell replied. "What about the encryption?"
"Give me a couple of hours, I'll have it cracked."
"Don't you have a delivery to make?" Lyle asked.
"No. This is the drop point. I wasn't just packing for you. I was leaving anyway. Damn justice system. They gave me two hundred and told me to have a nice day. You can't live one week on two hundred. There's beer in the fridge if you're interested. If I ignore you, it's because I'm working."
Evelyn vanished into the back room again, returning a moment later with a full-size pair of AR glasses with opaque lenses. She plugged the box into it, vanishing into the tech.
"You hungry?" Lyle asked. "I can go get some food."
"You're willing to leave me here alone with her?"
"Why, you want to jump her bones or something?"
"I think I would break them all, but no. I guess I didn't expect you to trust me."
"In general, I don't completely. With her? Why not? I'll be back soon."
Detective Lyle slipped out of the apartment. Mitchell looked back at Evelyn, and then found a spot on the floor to sit and wait.
He was good at that.
23
Mitchell leaned back against the wall of the apartment, staring at the ceiling above him. The place was new construction, the wall above a new material that emitted a soft spread of light that was only barely noticeable. It was a nice effect. So much more comfortable than the cold, bare metal he was used to looking at.
He sat up, closing his eyes tight. Bare metal? The idea of it had come and gone too quickly to grab it. Damn. He leaned back again. Where had the thought originated? Who had he been before?
Questions without immediate answers. Maybe if he were able to relax, it would come to him.
"Hey, Buzzkill," Evelyn said. He found her on the sofa. She had lifted the AR glasses from her eyes.
"Are you in?" he asked.
"No. It's a little trickier than I expected. It's been an hour. Where's Lyle?"
"Why?"
"I'
m hungry."
"You don't have anything to eat in here?"
"I wasn't planning on still being here. Could you go over to the clubhouse and get me a candy bar?"
"I'm not leaving you here alone. You'll be gone by the time I get back."
She smiled. "I have a reputation for being bad, don't I?"
"Yup."
She stood up and stretched. "Fine. I'll go get the candy, you stay here."
Mitchell jumped to his feet. "I don't think so."
"What am I, a slave? I need to eat. My blood sugar is low, and I'm getting shaky and cranky. Who can work like that?"
Mitchell glared at her. He didn't trust her. He also wasn't going to hold her hostage. It was better to give her what she wanted to get what he wanted.
Answers.
"Give me the data card. We'll go together."
Evelyn smiled, tapping the black box and extracting the card. She handed it to him. "Here you go, hot stuff."
Mitchell pocketed the card. Then he took her hand in his.
"I usually like at least one date before I hold hands," Evelyn said. "But I'll make an exception for you."
"This is to keep you close."
"I'm not going to bolt if that's what you're worried about. All of my stuff is in here, and it's too pricey to leave it."
"Then you won't have any problems holding on. Let's go."
They stepped out of her unit and walked together through the hallway and outside.
"Where's the clubhouse?" Mitchell asked.
"Around the back of Building Four," Evelyn said. "That way."
They started walking. They had only gone a few steps when Mitchell noticed a soft hum in the air, growing louder with every second. He looked up, scanning for it, gripping Evelyn's hand tighter to keep her from trying to slip away while he was distracted.
"Ouch," Evelyn said. "What's your problem? It's just a drone. They fly around and image the buildings, looking for damage. Preventative maintenance, you know? Fix the problem while it's still small."
Mitchell kept his eyes on the sky. Evelyn's words made sense, but he still didn't trust them. There was no harm in being cautious.
A second soft whine appeared to his right. A third joined it a moment later, together creating a noise he couldn't pinpoint.
Evelyn tugged at his hand. "I'm hungry. Come on. Geez."
Mitchell tightened his grip. "Just wait a second." He thought he caught sight of one of them, dropping vertically in front of Evelyn's building. "There it is."
Her hand fell limp in his. He turned to look at her. "Are you okay?"
"That's not a maintenance drone," she said, her voice hollow.
Fire lit the sky, pouring from the bottom of the drone. Two seconds later, the side of the apartment building exploded.
"Shit. That's my unit," Evelyn said.
A second belch of flame came from further back, the missile a visible streak that slammed into the already burning building, sending a second shower of debris out onto the grass.
A sudden light appeared above them, a spotlight on a third drone picking them out. It was angled and sleek. Military-grade.
"Run," Mitchell said, gathering his legs and pulling her along.
The drone followed, keeping the light on them as they raced across the grass. The noise had attracted attention, and people began turning on lights and coming out of their buildings, only to run back inside when they saw the chase.
"Where are we going?" Evelyn said.
The other two drones backed away from the building and started heading their way. The first continued to follow, remaining at a constant distance. Mitchell didn't know if this one was armed as well as the others.
He heard approaching cars in the distance. Had the police arrived? Mitchell changed direction, angling toward the street beyond the complex.
A figure appeared around the corner of one of the buildings, wearing light body armor. He looked like a soldier, probably sent to stop whatever was happening. Mitchell turned again, heading right for him.
He raised a small rifle to his shoulder and started shooting.
Mitchell pulled Evelyn to the ground as the bullets whipped over their heads.
"Stay down," he said. What the hell was going on? Didn't they know he wasn't a bad guy?
The shooting stopped. Mitchell glanced up. The soldier was face down in the grass. Detective Lyle was standing behind him.
"Come on," Lyle shouted, leaning over and grabbing the soldier's rifle.
"Move as fast you as you can," Mitchell said, bringing Evelyn back to her feet. They resumed their run while Lyle opened fire on the drone behind them.
More popping followed, bullets whizzing across the courtyard from their left, passing so close that Mitchell could almost feel the heat of them. The spotlight vanished behind the sound of cracking plastic, dimming the area. Lyle changed targets, spraying bullets toward the new arrivals.
"I'm going to die," Evelyn cried, tightening her grip on Mitchell's hand.
"No, you aren't," he replied. "Keep moving."
He heard the scream and the thump before he finished speaking. He felt the warm blood splash the side of his face. Evelyn's hand went limp in his. A single moment of burning, frightening agony washed over him. Death and destruction. The world seemed to slow. He looked back. Her head was caved in. She was already dead.
He let go of her hand, letting her body tumble to the grass. He threw himself forward, reaching Lyle and the cover of the building.
"Whoever you are, Mitchell, you brought a damn war with you," Lyle said.
Mitchell looked back at Evelyn.
War meant casualties. Too many casualties.
Billions.
The thought sent a cold shiver up his spine as he realized the stakes.
Everything.
Everyone.
24
"We need to get out of here," Lyle said. He threw the rifle to the ground. It was spent, and the dead soldier didn't have any extra magazines.
"How?"
The drones were closing in, the soldiers moving carefully along the buildings toward them. There were a half-dozen or so, all in the same black fatigues and light body armor as the one Lyle had killed.
"I tried to call for backup," Lyle said. "Nothing but dead silence."
"They're jamming the signals. We need to move."
Mitchell ran again, past Lyle toward the other side of the building. The Detective followed, staying close. Mitchell peered around the corner. More soldiers were positioned behind a pair of cars, waiting for them.
"Back the other way," Mitchell said.
"There are bad guys that way."
"There are bad guys this way. We passed an emergency access door."
"Good idea."
They ran back to it, the drones staying tight overhead and helping the soldiers keep a bead on them. Lyle tapped his badge against the lock to open it, and they made their way inside.
They entered a small, dimly lit room with a small generator on the left and a second door behind it. Mitchell knew from Evelyn's building that the stairs were on the other side.
"Okay, now what?" Lyle asked.
"We need another way out," he replied, crossing the room. He had his hand on the door when he heard screaming and gunfire in the hallway right outside.
"Too late," Lyle said. "They knew which way we were going to go."
"Herding us," Mitchell said. "We have to go back."
"Back? They have missiles and a lot more men."
"If they had more missiles they would have used them already."
"Then we can stay here. Try to defend the doors. They can't send in more than one at a time. Maybe the cavalry will show up."
"They're not letting anyone get a communication out, which means nobody is coming to help us, and if we stop moving, we die."
Mitchell thought he might feel afraid of the situation's gravity. Instead, he welcomed it. Embraced it. He didn't feel scared.
He felt like he w
as in his element.
He heard boots outside the door and swung over to the right of it. There was no time to prepare, only react.
The door swung open a moment later, and he grabbed the leading edge of the soldier's rifle, taking him by surprise. He pulled hard, using the shoulder strap to bring the soldier closer, and then hit him hard in the face with a left hook. The soldier fell backward while Mitchell maneuvered the rifle away from him.
He swung back behind the wall as the gunfire started, bullets tearing into the falling soldier. They were shooting their own to get to him? That was crazy. He found Lyle in position near the back door, ready for the soldiers to come through.
The gunfire stopped. Mitchell leaned his head to peek out. Four of the soldiers had remained by the doors. He drew back as the attack started again, before re-entering the fray with return fire of his own. The soldiers were wide open, not even trying to defend themselves from his attack. He hit two of them in the knees and watched them topple over, only to crawl forward to get back in position.
What the hell?
He kicked the outer door closed at almost the same time the inner door opened behind them. Lyle shot the first soldier point blank before slamming the door closed again, leaning against it while bullets pounded into the metal. It was an emergency door - fire retardant and apparently bulletproof.
Mitchell turned around, aiming at the inner door. "Open it," he shouted.
Lyle fell away, and the door flew inward. Mitchell's rifle belched another volley, tearing into the soldiers, dropping them before they could react.
"There are too many," Lyle said. The wounded soldiers were still moving, still trying to fight.
Too many? Mitchell didn't accept that. Would never accept that. He suddenly felt a cold chill wash over him. Death. Destruction. Silence. Loss. Billions.
He approached the outer door. The soldiers beyond it were silent. Waiting. There had to be more coming from inside, looking to push them out or keep them trapped and easy to kill. He checked the rifle, noting the counter on the side of it. Fifty rounds. He would have to be judicious.
Four gunshots rang out behind him, Lyle finishing off the wounded soldiers at their backs.
