I don’t think it will come to that. Paragon’s team is good, despite my initial trepidation. They’re consummate professionals.
Without further deliberation, we leave the hangar. We’re all piled in a cliched jet black van with the seats removed. I wonder if the van’s cargo could be more obvious.
Everyone is quiet as a grave. Minds are turned inward, and spirits are prepared for violence. My eyes go to Paragon as she stares out a dirty window, neons sliding over her face like a strange disease. I slowly rub my sweaty palms together. I look away when she looks at me. I look back to find her staring at me through the dark, her expression hard. Whatever flared between us in the lounge is dead.
I realize my heart is pushing hard against my throat as we draw nearer to the city’s heart. I lower my head and close my eyes for some meditative breathing. It doesn’t work at first, but eventually, it does.
A half-hour later, we come to a stop in an abandoned parking lot just outside the industrial district. A lone streetlight remains standing among the shattered pavement and swaying weeds. The pole is bent in two places and coated in rust. Its light is a sallow gold behind a haze of dust.
The sliding door of the van roars open, and Saber hops out, dropping a pair of black duffel bags on the pavement. We all follow after him, myself last. Much of the asphalt has been reclaimed by waist-high grasses and choking weeds. I drag on an offered full face mask, despite knowing it provides little protection for the night’s heavy radiation bombardment. The glass around the eyes is infused with lead and stifles the chronic burning from wind-blown dust.
“Just a mile out, stay low,” Saber says for all to hear. He slings one bag over his shoulder and hands Talos the other.
“Surveillance is still down?” Saber nods to Nightshade.
She replies with a returned nod. “I bought us fifteen minutes. Time to move.”
We wade into the sea of dead grass, cutting a solitary path. Broken grass crunches beneath our feet and whispers an impotent desire for peace against our firearms. A harsh wind kicks irradiated dust into every unprotected crevice. Another year has been stripped from my actuarial table.
The silence out here is striking. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so far from the drone of the city. I can’t wait to get back to civilization. Somewhere, a stray dog barks. Sounds carry here, I remind myself.
It feels like only seconds pass before the dark outline of a long rectangular building comes into view. A quick read of my AR confirms it is twelve minutes from the van. The building is nondescript and the picture of boring symmetry. Every window is the same size and evenly spaced. The fact that not a single pane is shattered is a clear indicator that the facility is being used.
“Stop,” Saber hisses and raises his palm at us. “Snips,” he commands. Talos hands him the tool and a razor-thin tripwire is cut.
My eyes go wide as the glint of the wire falls away. I’m again forced to question my presence here. A series of life choices made wrong. There is no turning back after I cross that wire.
I’m not given any chance for contemplation as Paragon barks, “Run! To the wall!”
We sprint the last five hundred meters or so, and everyone slams into the wall, backs pressed flat. I detect no reason for the alarm in her voice, but I’m not dumb enough to question her command. Today, I’m grateful for my AR’s insistence that I exercise every day. It tastes like I’m breathing dirt. A bead of sweat slides along my jaw.
My curiosity fails me. “I thought the surveillance was down?” I ask Paragon, behind me.
She gives me a look that an exhausted parent gives an annoying child. “I invised us, but I can’t do it for long with so many of us.”
“Wait. As in invisible? I was invisible?” I try to hide the amazement from my voice. I felt nothing out of the ordinary. I expected to at least feel something.
She ignores me and double-blinks, looking at something on her AR. “We’re on track,” she says with a steely breath. She lays a hand on my shoulder. “Stay close as we move, all together.”
“Right,” I say with a forced smile. These guys are good. Really fucking good. And I’m a genius for hiring them. We move as one line, snaking along the brick facade toward a wide-double door. I can see the illumination of lights from the deeper hallways, but from outside, it looks dark.
We reach the double doors, and now we wait. The other team should be on course to penetrate the building from the other side, the one where security will know they’re coming because I told them. All eyes settle on me, then exchange nervy looks between each other.
The burden of responsibility settles heavy on my back. If the other team fails to show up and die, then this job will be exceedingly difficult. Paragon’s team knows Wolf has heavy security. If the other team doesn’t produce, they’ll likely abandon the gig.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I breathe.
Saber turns from the door to glare at me. Somehow his hatred for me burns brightly in his mechanical eyes. I think he wants to shoot me. He’s probably thinking about the other team, how they all could’ve been him and the others had the dice been rolled differently. “Well?” he grates out.
“Wait. Give them another minute,” I hiss back.
“They’re already two minutes late,” Nightshade says to Paragon with a grimace.
Every breath I take seems to last minutes. Where the fuck are they? It feels like Saber’s hands are inside my belly, twisting and squeezing my insides. Paragon’s manicured fingernails start to tap on the brickwork, roaring in my head like crashing symbols. Heat claws at my throat.
“Just give them another minute,” I seethe both at the team and myself.
Doubt is an infectious boil latching onto my mind. It’s very possible that someone above my pay grade in Erinas killed the distraction job. How could I have missed that? Shit. It’d be the prudent thing to do after my death, a way to tie up loose ends. The Dark Oil likely cataloged my signature when we hacked the Erinas’ String network. They know I’m still alive. It was sloppy. I’m out of control and unraveling.
The roar of distant gunfire brings a smile to my lips.
14
Inside
A muted bark of gunfire resounds from behind the doors. A crescendo of gun shots calls over the night air, echoing over the parking lot. Someone distant screams in agony. An explosion bellows at the wind. On the other side of the building, war rages.
“I’ll be damned,” Saber mutters while nodding. Gunfire is terse. A quick burst is followed by deafening silence. Another voice yells, calling for help maybe.
“Now, we—” Paragon gasps. A red sun rises behind the building. Heat warms my cheeks. A shrieking explosion rips the silence asunder. She drops to the ground, dragging me down with her. We hit the ground hard, and I grin. Bits of glass rain around us and fingers of debris tickle my back.
Paragon is beside me, one arm draped across my back and the other gripping the shoulder of my combat armor. She shakes her head at me while I meet her eyes. “See what a little patience can bring?”
She tears away from me, growls, and pushes herself off my body, driving to her feet. “Everyone okay?” she asks the team.
“What?” I ask, playing dumb, but I know.
“Fine,” Talos grunts, brushing plaster bits from his neck.
“Mhm.” Saber nods.
“Yup, always good.” Nightshade smiles, sharing in my enthusiasm. She pulls a wire from an entry panel, the other end connected to a small gizmo in her hand. The entry panel’s screen flashes from red to green.
I peer up. The afterimage of the explosion remains in my vision as the sky fades to black. A hint of amber remains, and with it arises a thin plume of smoke. The smoke swirls on the currents of time. Within its mass, transient demons writhe in a strange ballet. For an iota, I see an impeccable shape of the creature from my dream, the one who called itself Prodal.
My jaw falls open, and I frown. “How?” As I whisper, the smoke seems to shift as if the figu
re is turning to face me. The smoke parts where its eyes should be, and the amber light of the sky fills them in.
“Move.” Paragon gives me a hard elbow. I startle and get my legs going, following after Talos.
“Did you see…?” I trail off. She wouldn’t believe me. Who would?
“See what?” Paragon prompts at my back.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, hopefully clearing whatever hallucinogenic cobwebs are in there. I wonder if Paragon’s chems were orally transmissible.
The door slides open with an alarm crying behind it. No one within comes or seems to care. Nightshade urgently gestures for us to pass.
Sirens shriek like the damned from every corridor. Talos and Saber dart through the doorway. Muzzles flash, and guns thump. Shouts are cut off.
“Wait. Hold it!” Paragon points at one half of the door while she grabs the other. I grip the door’s edge with two hands, fingers curling over a notched surface where the two doors intersect and seal. Servos grind to life behind the wall. My palms burn in protest, but the door remains open.
Nightshade is outside, fingers tapping at the entry panel’s keypad. This is a rare moment and a chance to prove myself useful. They’re trusting me like one of their own. All I have to do is hold this damn door open. Some of the alarms go off, but distant others still scream. Nightshade marches through the entryway ten seconds later.
“Good, good,” she mutters in a tone I find disconcerting. Paragon doesn’t seem to notice. We release the doors on a three count and let them snap to a close behind us.
The entryway forks into two hallways, between them a security desk. The desk is gleaming polished metal with a short, illuminated pane of glass that vertically stands along its perimeter. On one edge of the desk is an orchid in bloom with bright ivory flowers, its petals speckled in blood.
Paragon points for me to follow Nightshade as she sweeps past the security desk, following after Talos and Saber, who are leading the infiltration.
I peer over the desk to see two dead guards on the linoleum floor printed to look like wood. They both have two weeping holes in their chests and one in the center of their heads. Both are wearing navy blue pants and white polo shirts. A pair of shock batons lay discarded at their sides. It was a bad night to work third shift.
I think I should feel some sense of remorse about their deaths. There is nothing. Nothing but the overwhelming urge to live. The sight of the dead brings a jitter to my legs. I know I’m dealing with an adrenaline dump. I need to focus on breathing.
Inhale. Exhale. It’s all I need to do. And follow Nightshade. I marshal all of my focus into Nightshade’s ass, watching its curves wiggle as she marches down the hallway. She has a great ass. How did I miss this gem before? Just keep following her ass, I tell myself. I wonder how it looks naked.
Moments pass, and I don’t know where we are or where we’re going. It’s all a fucking maze to me. I dumped the mental labor of remembering where we’ve passed. I hope the others know.
Why am I following her? Why am I here? How did I let them talk me into this? My hand goes to the pistol on my hip, touching the hammer, reminding myself of its presence. I’m not cut out for this shit. I shake my head and try to press the thoughts down deep.
My legs are still moving. That’s good. I take a long blink. We reach the end of the hallway, and there are concrete stairways leading to an upper and lower level.
We go down. The pop of silenced firearms resonates up through the stairwell. We pass more blood. Blood on the walls. Blood on the stairs, the handrails. There are two, maybe three more dead guards. It all blurs past me. I can’t focus. My right hand is warm and wet. I frown as I lift it from a handrail to inspect it, finding it coated in bright scarlet.
“Damn it.” I frown and drag my hand down my leg. It’s sticky and gross. Something about the gesture is steadying. I see the world again. The LED lights lining the stairway’s ceiling are harsh and bright. I see Nightshade before me, her head turning to and fro around the edges of a door before she steps through.
We emerge in what appears to be a basement where old research equipment goes to die. The walls are packed in electronic artifacts that likely haven’t been booted up in decades.
Saber and Talos are poised on either side of a magnetically locked door, firearms drawn and pointing down at their sides. They watch Nightshade as she approaches. Paragon paces about the room while Nightshade goes to work on the door’s computer. She can apparently reach this one via their network now that we’re inside because she’s only staring at it, not using her pocket computer.
Nightshade’s face twitches for a few moments as she traverses the Net. Paragon watches her, fists clenched as she marches around the room like a trapped animal. Saber starts rocking from side to side as if itching for more killing. His titanium arms glisten with blood.
A buzzing emits from the door’s lock. Talos raises his arm to grip the wakizashi slung over his back, fingers curling tight around the leather-wrapped hilt. Saber takes a step back.
The door whispers open to reveal a stunned guard, his mouth hanging open in shock. A curl of dark hair hangs from the side of his hat. “Shit!” he shouts and drops a shotgun with a clang.
Talos draws his sword, and in the same deft motion, slices a red path through the man’s neck. Blood sprays from his throat, and he slumps to the floor, voicing a gurgle.
“Ugh.” I screw up my face, and the urge to vomit takes me. I cover my mouth with both hands. Bile burns up my throat, and it’s the kind that can’t be reasoned with. I turn to the side and puke hard.
Talos lets out a rumbling laugh. “Again?”
I wipe my face and give him a deadpan glare. “Seriously? Did you have to fucking nearly decapitate the guy? Fuck, man.”
He shrugs, wipes his blade on the dead man’s shirt, then sheathes it.
“Fucking Mercs,” I say with a mad chuckle, shaking my head at nothing in particular. I notice Paragon and look at her. She eyes me with a mocking eyebrow. Her lips work like she’s going to speak, but says nothing. Something draws her eyes, and I follow her gaze.
“What the…” a voice shouts. “Hey! Charlie!” Another guard rounds the corner of the hallway beyond the door brandishing a rifle with a tactical sling.
Paragon’s eyes glow with a whitish brilliance, her arms raising and fingers curling like claws. The guard is lifted from the ground before he can process what’s happening. His world is inverted. His firearm clatters beside dead Charlie’s discarded shotgun. Paragon lets out a grunt and slashes down with her arms, hammering the guard head first into the floor. He lands on the side of his neck, which pops like a bunch of torn celery.
I frown at the savagery. I want to say something, but no words are coming. The guard’s limbs settle into an awkward twisting that might be uncomfortable if he were still capable of feeling. I slowly turn to look at Paragon, and she gives me a look that dares me to challenge her, as if she’s about ready to do the same to me.
I’m reminded that she is a hired killer. I let out a slow sigh. The corner of her lip twitches in a semblance of a smile. She is pleased with my silence.
We march through the doorway, then take a right down what appears to be another forgotten hall. Lights flicker for a few seconds and finally stabilize. Boxes line the sides, covered in a thin layer of dust. We pass countless doors leading to parts unknown. A door creaks open, and without hesitation, Nightshade raises a pistol and blasts the person in the face with four brutal shots. Blood, bones, and brains paint the office wall behind him. He looks like a scientist, donned in a white lab coat.
“Fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Nightshade grins and laughs at me, enjoying my mental torture. Perhaps this is why they brought me. It’s a chance for them to exact vengeance on all the Strings that have screwed them over the years. No. I’m over thinking it. This is only business, and who should understand that better than myself? I do, and it all makes sense now.
Once again, I imag
ine I’m seeing the gore of the work from a vast distance, as if I’m still comfortable in a lounge chair in a nightclub. I sip my imaginary whiskey. I feel better. My stomach is relaxing, and my heartburn wanes.
I return Nightshade’s smile, big and joyous. Her smile falters with a quizzical frown.
Paragon is looking at me funny. “You alright, Desmond?”
I nod. “Wonderful.”
A muffled scream resonates throughout the hall, and a door rips open across from us. Without hesitation, I’m drawing, raising, and aiming my pistol. I don’t examine my target before pulling. Pull, pull, pull. My gun barks death. My arms jolt back at the recoil. My shots are accurate, two in the chest and one in the face. I’ve trained for this moment countless times in the virtual.
I’m wide eyed as the woman slumps dead, the side of her face a patch of red. There is a steak knife in her hand. Her lab coat has two large red punctures. She was young and attractive with shiny auburn hair. I took that from her. I took it all. I killed her.
There’s blood on the ivory white wall behind her. Blood on her stainless-steel desk. I try to blink it away, but her twitching body remains. The afterimages of muzzle flashes are burned in my eyes.
Paragon makes a sound, not registering as something comprehensible in my ears. She gives me a nod that I understand to be thankful. Saber and Talos are both looking at me differently, though I can’t place my finger on how. Is this acceptance? Respect? We move on.
We reach the end of the hall, and a soft buzz resonates through a set of heavy metal doors.
“This should be it,” Nightshade says with a backward glance.
“Good. We’re burning time.” Saber shoulders the door open then staggers back a step. Before I can react, his rifle shoots a staccato of bursts, belching flames from the tip.
Screams of pain wail from within. “Asshole shot me!” someone cries.
Backstab (Worlds of Deception Book 1) Page 14
