by RJ Plant
“How can you tell? You won’t even look at me.”
“You looked about like him, so yeah, I can tell.”
Even with all the aches from Felix and the virus at the surface, one distinct pain was missing. I started searching around on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Kaitlyn asked.
There! A little fleshy microchip. I picked it up, holding it between my thumb and index finger, and smiled at Kaitlyn as I crushed it.
“You were right after all, Kait,” I said. “Letting Felix out did fix the C-chip problem.”
Kaitlyn reached her hand down to me and I grabbed it, letting her help me to my feet. Which turned out to be a mistake, since as soon as I was up she used the momentum to pull me in and jab the tip of a scalpel to my throat. She was careful to avoid my Esposito-spattered clothes, even with the gloves she’d layered on.
“Well …” I said. “This seems unprovoked.”
“You’ve essentially killed Felix,” she said, her voice low, nervous, somewhat hostile. “You’ve actually killed Esposito. Why? Why did you do that? He could have helped us, or at least been useful. Jesus, Conor, what is wrong with you?”
I blinked, hard and slow.
“It’s very angry you sound, pretty little Kaitlyn.”
And the blade bit a little deeper.
“Stop calling me that,” she said.
“Yes, yes, fine. But technically, Felix killed Esposito,” I said through gritted teeth. “Believe me, I wanted to be the one to kill that sorry arse bastard. But we can’t always get what we want can we?” I tried to exhale my anger. “So I’ll take comfort in simply knowing that he’s dead. And you’re alive, which I’m assuming is what you wanted. I’ll take you to Rian and we can part ways.”
My right hand still held her left wrist from when she helped me up, so I tightened my grip. The scalpel began to shake as she fought to keep her composure against the radiating pain. I pushed the scalpel away with my other hand, then twisted it out of her grip and threw it aside. I started to wipe my hands against my jeans, trying to wipe away as much of Esposito as possible, but stopped when I noticed an industrial sink in the corner of the room.
“Are you slow?” she asked. “That’s not a solution. Conor, if GDI is trying to make a widespread weapon out of this, then we need to get rid of the virus completely. Any traces of its existence in GDI’s database, any files, anyone who would potentially try to reinstate Kazic in any capacity.”
I used my wrist to tap the soap dispenser’s lever, coating my arms up to the elbow before turning the water on.
“Says the one homicidal maniac to the other,” I muttered. The soap burned a bit. The water was bitingly cold. “Look,” I said, nodding at Esposito, “he made the virus, didn’t he?”
“He’d have been useful alive,” she said, her last word was almost a wail of frustration.
I turned back to her and the puddle on the floor behind her. We were both silent, staring at Esposito’s ruined body.
“Still,” she shrugged. “I guess he might be of some use. I need a tissue sample,” she said, practicality winning over her sentimentality. Or humanity.
Still staring at the body from a respectful distance, she shook her head. “It’s a good thing I can still tell one organ from another. Oh, wait! I can’t. Because he looks like he’s been through a goddamn food processor!” She sounded cheery and excited, which was more than a little unnerving. “You’ve really, truly, and royally fucked this up, Conor. Selfish, thoughtless—”
“I was fecking asleep,” I yelled.
She kept insulting me, but I stopped listening when the lab door swished opened. Seth came to such an abrupt halt that Agent Joyce almost knocked him over.
“Seth, Agent Joyce,” I said.
Seth immediately backed out of the doorway, the sounds of his vomiting echoing through the hallway like a grotesque whispering gallery. Agent Joyce stood still, assessing the situation. Kaitlyn and I watched her until the silence grew uncomfortable.
“There’s been a horrible lab accident,” I said.
“What exactly …” Agent Joyce started, unfolding one of her crossed arms to wave at Esposito.
“No time,” Seth called from the hall.
“Ah, yes. We should be going,” Agent Joyce said.
“Hurry up,” Seth gagged.
“I think I missed something,” I said.
“Rian’s source in GDI,” Seth shouted as Agent Joyce and I engaged in a stare down.
“Apparently my subtext needs a bit of work,” she said, nodding toward Esposito.
“I need samples,” Kaitlyn said. “I need something to put tissue samples in. There’s nothing in here.”
“Bloody hell,” Agent Joyce remarked. “Kaitlyn, you follow me. Conor, go with Seth to take care of our visitors.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
I stopped Kaitlyn as she moved to follow Agent Joyce, making sure to grab her where she was gloved.
“Uh …” I said, smartly.
She looked at me, brows drawn down and mouth kicked up to one side, then ran down the hall after Agent Joyce.
I stepped into the hall and found Seth, a little pale, but mostly composed. He flinched a little when I clasped his shoulder.
“Care to fill me in?” I asked.
Seth shrugged my hand off. “Brinly’s cover ain’t much of a cover anymore, so we now have to deal the problem of the current company upstairs.”
“How many?”
“Five already on base. Shaina and Rian have reported two GDI Raiders inbound.”
“I think it’s about time to get my guns back.”
Seth shook his head and gave me a faint smile. “How about something better?”
*****
29 October 2042, Stockholm, Greater Scandinavian Territory
“It’s no wonder Felix likes you,” I said.
A dozen or so gun lockers took up two walls—and I mean floor to ceiling coverage. Tables set against one wall bowed under the weight of explosives and ammo of all calibers. I grabbed a tin of 5.56 and started dumping rounds into a speed loader, making sure they all faced the right way. It took all of five seconds to load a thirty-round magazine. I repeated the process nine more times. It seemed like a good number.
I used my card to open all the gun lockers, then started browsing. I picked up a Rock River Arms LAR-15 X-1. From the look of the rifle locker, it was GDI standard issue. I turned to grab one of the magazines and ran into the bag Seth was thrusting at me.
“Since you loaded so many, it’d be a shame to leave them behind,” he said.
I slung the small bag into a cross carry and loaded one of the magazines from the bag into the rifle.
“Let’s go,” Seth said. A rifle slung over his shoulder and with a duffel of goodies in tow, he led the way to the lift.
“You can shoot that thing, right?” he asked as the doors closed behind us.
“Felix has experience with it, so … probably,” I said.
Picking up the mechanics of it from a position of consciousness as opposed to control was a hindrance, but muscle memory probably applied. Right?
I didn’t think that explanation would be comforting, so I didn’t say anything else. In any case, Felix hadn’t used this model before. Taking into account the differences in weight, rifling, and the like, this was essentially a whole new learning curve.
I followed Seth as he hurried out of the lift. He pointed down a hallway to my right, so I broke and took the hallway while he kept straight.
I hugged the left wall, moving slower now. I could hear footsteps coming. I kneeled and aimed where I thought the first agent would appear; once he came around the corner, I readjusted my aim and fired, catching him in the chest. Close range made it hard to miss.
The second agent backpedaled quickly, ducking back into the hallway.
Like in the GDI building in Dublin, there were no alcoves in front of the hermetically sealed doors. Which meant no cover. I walked
forward, slow and quiet, so I’d be able to hear any movement coming from Agent #2.
Shoe scuff.
Cloth scraping the wall.
I dropped low, took aim, and shot.
I hit Agent #2 in the neck as he rounded the corner. He fell back against the wall, then crumpled over on the floor. I walked to the bodies, taking a quick inventory and confiscating their warrant cards. I wasn’t so sure mine would work for much longer.
Agent #2 was still alive, which made collecting his card awkward since he kept groping for me with bloodied hands, which I had to keep smacking away.
“All right, all right,” I said.
I shot him twice in the head, then looked around. I could hear shots from Seth’s direction. I cleared the rooms down the hallway that the agents had come from, then headed back to the lobby. Seth was hunched over the front desk, staring at a monitor.
“Is that everyone?” I asked.
“Inside, yeah. But those two Raiders just landed.”
“How delightful.”
The lift chimed. Seth and I trained our guns on the doors.
“Settle down, boys,” Agent Joyce said. Though I supposed she wasn’t an agent anymore. I’d have to get used to calling her Brinly now.
She stepped out of the lift. Kaitlyn, still in her layers of gloves, was behind her with what appeared to be a thermos in her hands. Part of a latex glove was sticking out from under the lid.
“You’re just in time for our newest arrivals,” I said.
Brinly came around the desk and looked at the monitor. “We have everything we need,” she said. “We might as well take them down on our way out.”
“No,” Kaitlyn said. “We can’t leave anything about Kazic behind. Where do you store the files?”
Brinly jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the only door behind the front desk. I swiped Agent #2’s warrant card and pulled open the door. A single, lonely laptop sat on a cheap desk.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” Brinly answered.
“That can’t be it,” Kaitlyn said.
“Take it,” I said to Kaitlyn.
She looked at the thermos, then back up at me with a scowl.
“Fine,” I said. “Seth, stuff it into your goody bag.” I looked at Brinly. “Where are my guns?”
“Here,” she said, the wicked smile back on her face. She opened a safe under her desk and handed the pistols to me one at a time so I could holster them while still holding the rifle.
I walked to the front door. The immediate area seemed empty. I looked over at Kaitlyn, clutching her thermos. It seemed irresponsible of me to let her go out with biohazardous material and no weapon into a battle zone likely crawling with murderous agents. Leaving her here unattended seemed equally irresponsible.
Oh well, needs must. I pushed Kaitlyn into the room behind the front desk and shut the door. Then I broke the card reader.
14
29 October 2042, Stockholm, Greater Scandinavian Territory
The sun had set by the time we walked outside, and the temperature had dropped from uncomfortable to only just tolerable—especially since I’d left my jacket in the lab.
The three of us broke apart to hunt down the agents and put them out of our misery. That was my plan, at least.
I ran, low and fast, between the trees and underbrush toward the thwapping blades of the helicopter, then slowed and dropped into a crouch.
A large clearing spread out about ten feet in front of me, filled by the long black bulk of a Raider. Its counter-rotating rotors kicked up dirt and fallen foliage as they steadily slowed. Two agents paced along either side of it, outfitted in bulky black jackets—likely covering Kevlar or some other body armor—and heavy black trousers tucked into boots. They seemed alert, far more prepared than the agents inside. But I guess that was to be expected, since this lot had been specifically called in to deal with us.
I slowly made my way through the underbrush to the far side of the clearing. As I got into position, a shot rang out from behind me. I rolled away, then stayed flat on the ground until I saw a shifting in the light coming through the trees.
I crawled toward the movement. It was not the most tactical crawl. The noise got the shooter to investigate, and when he came into view, I shot. He dropped, making a lot of noise, mostly variations of “ouch” and “fuck” with some rather emphatic “goddammits” sprinkled in.
I got up and walked toward him in a crouched position. I’d hit him in the upper inner thigh. He pressed on his leg, which was releasing a gout of blood with every heartbeat, and looked up at me as I came closer.
He looked young. His continuous diatribe came out in harsh half-whisper-half-shouts, but he never cried out for backup or help. It’s not like the gunshots wouldn’t alert the other agents anyway.
“Well,” I said to him. “That went a bit arseways, didn’t it?”
I heard fast-approaching footsteps behind me. I shot the downed agent in the head and took off toward the edge of the clearing, toward the Raider.
Only one agent was with the Raider now. The second sounded like he was approaching from my right. I looked around for a tree large enough to hide behind, and it didn’t take long to find one along the perfect path. I ran for it and waited.
When the agent giving chase was almost on top of me, I stuck my arm out and clotheslined him. The impact forced a guttural, monosyllabic noise from him and he fell, clawing at his throat. I grabbed the man’s head in my hands and twisted hard.
I picked my rifle back up and turned to the clearing, lining up a shot on the last agent as he walked a bit warily toward my hidey-spot. I pulled the trigger.
“You have got to be fecking kidding me,” I said.
The agent had dropped to a knee. I broke from the tree line to rush him as he took aim. I dropped my gun as I ran, then grabbed the barrel of his gun, the heat from it stinging my fingers as his shot went wide. I wrestled it away from him, then I hauled him to his feet by his lapels. I held him with my left hand and used my right like a sledgehammer, slamming the bottom of my fist against the top of his head with everything I had.
The sound was sickening. I dropped him. He didn’t move.
I picked my rifle up off the ground and circled back beyond the tree line.
I waited a few minutes, until I felt reasonably confident that no one would shoot me in the back as I walked to the GDI building. A portion of that confidence may have come from my having walked backward the whole way, my gun leveled at the trees.
I didn’t hear any movement once inside, and when I hurried over to the reception desk I saw no movement on the monitors.
“I’m letting you out now,” I said to the door behind the desk. “You’ll probably want to stand away from the door.”
A muffled “okay” answered.
I kicked at the door. It took three attempts, but it finally buckled from its tracks in the ceiling and floor, sagging open enough to let Kaitlyn slip through.
“You …” Kaitlyn said. She looked away from me and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.” She punched me in the chest for emphasis.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Where are the others?”
“Having a picnic? I don’t know. But we have a clear exit.”
“You can’t just leave them.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“Conor,” Kaitlyn warned.
“You are a terrible influence,” I said.
I grabbed her gloved wrist and pressed her hand to the ammo bag’s strap where it lay against the middle of my back.
“You keep hold of that until I say otherwise. Stay close and keep quiet.”
We headed for the trees, this time in the opposite direction I’d gone before. Kaitlyn stayed so close that she ran into me every time I stopped. When I’d start moving again the strap of the bag would tighten across my chest before easing up as Kaitlyn crowded in behind me.
I finally heard movement several fe
et ahead of us. I dropped into a crouch, the strap yanking tight then loosening as Kaitlyn followed my lead. I surveyed the area, picking out different footpaths even in the dark. The strap tightened against my chest as Kaitlyn shivered. I looked over my shoulder at her and she mouthed, “Okay.”
The sound of movement came closer and I took aim, waiting for someone to appear. It was Seth who stepped into view, raising his arms when he saw the rifle aimed at him. I lowered the weapon and he came over, crouching beside us.
“How many left?” I asked.
“One or two,” Seth said. “Ain’t a hundred percent sure.”
“So much for keeping me from killing anyone, huh?”
“She’s still alive,” he countered, nodding toward Kaitlyn.
Shots rang out about ten yards away.
“Wait here,” I said to Seth as I removed the ammo bag. I moved quickly in the direction of the shots, slowing as I approached the clearing where the second Raider had landed. Brinly stood over two agents. I cleared my throat and she turned toward me.
“Is that the last of them, then?” I asked, nodding at the downed agents.
“Should be,” she said. “You made a bit of a mess on the other side.”
“User error,” I said. “But dead is dead, so.”
“A novice would say that. Now go get your mates.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’m going to blow the base up,” she said, smiling wickedly.
*****
29 October 2042, Stockholm, Greater Scandinavian Territory
We left the base and the dead behind for Brinly to handle. When we were about fifteen feet from the point where the parkland gave way to the city streets, Kaitlyn stopped me with a hand on my arm, then pulled quickly away.
Whatever she might have said stayed unsaid.
I handed my rifle and ammo bag to Seth so he could store them in the duffel. We trotted across the street, dodging shoddily made rickshaws and bicycle traffic and nothing short of full pedestrian overload.
I grabbed Kaitlyn by the arm and elbowed my way through the crowded street onto the more crowded pavement while still trying to be mindful of my status as a walking biohazard. We turned onto a side street blossoming with colorful tents filled with trinkets and baubles and other useless crap, tarps elevated by posts and filled with even more colorful clothing, bags, shoes. One of the portable structures was made mostly of corded rope. All manners of knives hung from the sides, fisherman netting and spearing poles attached to the roof, all easily dislodged for sale.
