by Thomas Locke
56
Brett came back from the second ascent feeling disconnected from reality. The intensity of bonding with Lena had overwhelmed his senses. He walked the empty street in front of the warehouse behind Charlie and Lena, struggling to draw the danger into focus.
He heard Charlie say, “Tell me about the monsters.”
“Again,” Lena replied. “Tell you again.”
“Sometimes it helps to remember if you repeat the story,” Charlie said.
“There were a lot of the beasts,” Lena said. She hugged her arms tightly around her middle. The night was cold, but Brett did not think that was why she shivered. “Too many to count. A couple dozen, maybe more.”
“You said they filled the street,” Charlie said.
“Because they were big.”
“And you said they kept shifting shape. Can you describe that for me?”
Lena hesitated. Charlie walked on beside her, matching her choppy stride, not pressing.
Brett liked being able to hang back. The slow pace down the center of the street suited him. Behind them, one of Charlie’s team lounged in the warehouse doorway, smoking and keeping watch.
Lena said, “It’s really hard to describe.”
Charlie nodded with his entire upper body. “I can imagine.”
“They were huge, and then they shifted into human shape. Then huge again. Like I was seeing two different groups, only they weren’t.” Lena shook her head. “I can’t describe it better than that.”
“You didn’t mention this before, about them shape-shifting.”
“Because it sounds crazy.”
Charlie touched her arm. “You’re with friends. We trust you and we believe you. There’s no telling what will prove important. Now, was there anything else?”
Lena pointed toward the east. “They came from out of the sun.”
Brett held back a couple of steps so he could watch Lena. Five minutes to two in the morning, they owned the night. The first ascent in over a year had rocked Brett in so many different ways he could not catalog the sensations. The shock of meeting Lena in the bodiless realm was . . . exquisite.
Charlie said, “You’re sure they came at dawn?”
“This is the third time you’ve asked that,” Lena replied.
“Waning light could also have meant sunset,” Charlie said.
“It was dawn.” Again Lena pointed to the east. “The sun was fully over the horizon, but still touching the earth.”
They walked on in silence. Three blocks to the south, a bevy of flags snapped in the night wind, surrounding the USS Intrepid’s spotlighted superstructure. The mothballed aircraft carrier was permanently moored at the pier by West 46th Street.
Finally Charlie asked, “You were seeing this from a height above the rooftops. Sunrise today is six thirteen. This is officially defined by the first sighting of the sun’s edge from sea level. So we’ll call it from six to six thirty.”
“Why is the precise time so important?”
“They’ll have watchers in place.”
“You mean—”
“Just like us. Looking forward. Our best hope is to be one step ahead of them. Which is why you need to keep ascending.”
“I can do that.”
“I’ll need to separate you and Brett. Watch-on-watch. From now until dawn. Bernie or Robin will serve as backup.”
Lena’s flat tone reflected Brett’s own disappointment, but all she said was, “What about you?”
“I’ll stay on constant watch here in the physical realm. That’s my duty station throughout.” He gestured toward the buildings and the shadows that swallowed their every sound. “I’ll be switching positions every few minutes. Making my pattern as random and unpredictable as possible.”
“So what you told Roger—”
Charlie pointed across the street at a blank window. “I’ve rented that room. But I won’t be there. Are you okay going without sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Brett?”
“Fine.”
Lena stopped. “What are we doing out here?”
“I need to establish optimal shooting sites. A kill zone is all about angles and distance.” Charlie might as well have been discussing a shopping list. “Knowing where I can be positioned and still—”
“No,” Lena said. “What are we doing here?”
Brett had difficulty hearing Charlie’s reply. The words crystallized in the darkness before his face. Kill zone. Brett sensed at a level beyond the physical that Charlie was both telling the truth and leaving a great deal out.
He heard Charlie say, “I’m not tracking.”
“Yes you are. You know exactly what I mean. Why are we standing here waiting for the bad guys to show up?”
“Where would you want us to be, Lena? In some crowded hotel where we put civilians at risk? Could you live with yourself?”
“How about a police station?”
“And tell them what? Sooner or later, we would be back on the street, only without the ability that we have now to control the terrain.”
“So we’re basically just waiting for them to attack.”
“No, Lena. That’s why you have me. That’s why I’m out here. That’s why in about ten minutes you and Brett are going back inside . . .”
Brett stopped following them. He turned and looked back the way they had come. The sunrise was out there somewhere, four hours and counting. But Charlie was not concerned about the exact timing so he could switch positions, and his actions would not be random.
Brett took a long breath. He knew what was happening. The logical linkage that dominated his life no longer held him. This night he had been taken beyond logic, beyond the physical reality, and shown a different perspective. And this outlook held him still. He knew why they were out here.
Charlie intended to sacrifice himself.
Charlie was going to plant himself as a target. Let the bad guys zero in on him. Give New York’s finest a reason to roll.
Lena called, “Brett?”
“Coming.” Brett smiled to the darkness. It all made sense now. This opportunity he had been given to ascend. The chance to witness the true power of selfless love. Despite everything he had done, all the shadows he had introduced into the world. Every possible reason to be denied these gifts. All this was life’s way of saying farewell.
Because Charlie Hazard was not going to sacrifice himself. Gabriella was not going to lose her life’s love. They deserved happiness. They deserved a future. They had a role to play in tomorrow’s world.
Charlie called, “It’s time.”
“Yes,” Brett agreed. It certainly was.
57
When Reese entered the lobby area outside the departures lounge, Ridley was talking as though it was only her and Carl. But the place was jammed with bodies, the entire voyager team swamping the sofas, the chairs, lining the carpet by the refreshment stand. Ridley was saying, “We got to come up with some tag that fits us. I mean, what we’re doing is totally world-class. We’ve got to have a handle.”
If Carl was even aware of all the others listening in, he gave no sign. For him, it was just his partner talking. “They talk about surfing the web. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“There you go.” Ridley started to punch his shoulder.
“No hitting.”
“I stopped, see?” She held her hand out for Carl to do the fist-on-fist thing. “We’re out there surfing the unseen winds.”
The waifish young woman was closest to the pair. Erin looked about fifteen, but Reese had heard from one of the other voyagers that she was twenty-eight. Erin said, “We need superhero uniforms. You know, over there.”
The man seated on the carpet next to her was named, of all things, Rupert. The others called him Rube. He said, “Something with a space-suit feel. All shiny with a flip-down visor for the stellar voyages.”
Ridley pretended to notice Reese for the first time. “Here she is, ladies and gentlemen.
Our very own launch director.”
Reese knew her team was frightened. Which was probably a good thing. It meant they had less distance to travel before they arrived at true terror. Which was bound to come as soon as she told them what was happening.
Ridley asked, “Is the boss okay?”
“Kevin is fine. Everything is . . .” Reese stopped. No false assurances. She finished, “Kevin is not the issue.”
Reese had phoned the security station before she left the café and asked the duty officers to round up the voyagers. They had been stewing here for over half an hour. They had heard about her little tirade when she couldn’t find Kevin. They knew something was up.
She began, “There is a second set of voyagers. Like us, but not at all the same. For one thing, they’re a couple of steps behind us.”
Erin asked, “Who are they?”
Reese liked how Ridley and Carl turned to her, asking permission. She liked that a lot. The impossible duo was hers. Which meant they might just survive.
Reese said, “Go ahead. Tell them.”
Ridley said, “The lady had us track them. They went to a place outside Havana.”
“So . . . they’re working for . . .” Erin’s eyes widened. “Oh wow.”
A guy on the sofa to Reese’s left said, “They’re working for the Cubans? Really?”
“Dude, wake up.” Ridley looked at Carl. “You believe this guy?”
Carl said, “We saw Russians all over the place.”
“No way,” Erin said.
Reese needed to be certain they all understood, so she said, “Ridley and Carl are our first team of perimeter scouts. Their objective was to track the midnight crew. The Russians are our backers. And they are developing a second team. We have to assume the group’s progress will accelerate now that they have the midnight crew as backup.”
The waif asked, “So where does that leave us?”
Reese nodded. “That is the question. And the answer is, it’s up to you. Anybody who wants out, you need to leave now. This is probably your last chance to walk away. Because if you stay, things are going to get hot.”
Rube asked, “What, they’re coming for us?”
“What do they need us for once they’re up and running?” Ridley said. “We’re as good as toast.”
“Ridley’s correct. Not this very instant. Maybe not today. But soon.” Reese pointed at the hallway leading to the front lobby. “The exit is that way. If you’re going, leave now.”
Ridley looked at her partner. “What do you say, big guy? We staying?”
Carl shrugged one massive shoulder. “What do I have out there that’s half as good as this?”
This time Ridley’s fist made soft contact. “My man.”
“Ow again.”
Reese laid it out. She figured some would take off as soon as they learned what was happening. But they had to know. Even when almost everyone showed fear long before Reese was done.
All but Ridley, who was grinning, and Carl, who showed no reaction at all.
Erin said, “This could be a total suicide mission.”
“Lighten up,” Carl said.
Ridley said, “My money is on the lady getting us out intact.”
Reese walked over and squatted down between the duo. She wrapped one arm around each of them. It wasn’t much of a thanks for having said the exact right thing at the ideal moment. Her two voyagers exploring the outermost edge, the pair who would face the greatest danger, were cool with it. They trusted her. Their example swayed the group. Reese could feel it happen.
Reese hoped she would find a way to tell the pair what that gift of trust meant. But for the moment, a one-armed hug would do.
She straightened and addressed the group. “From this point on, you do exactly what I say. No questions. No argument. We move in sync. And we get out of this. Alive.”
“Call it out,” Reese said. She stood in the lobby area, far enough from the two entries so most of the voyagers could see her. Sixteen were linked and ready. Even so, she did not need to raise her voice. The two departures lounges were that silent, the voyagers totally intent upon her. “Who’s on lead?”
Four hands went up. All were volunteers. Ridley, who was lead on the fifth and most important team, pretended to inspect the tats on her left wrist. Reese said, “Good. Now a show of hands from the first backup. Excellent.”
Reese ran them through the sequencing once more. She knew her voice was tight and that the words held a drumbeat cadence. She felt the old familiar adrenaline surge that had always sparked the moments before action. The rush was indescribable to anyone who had never known the kick of high-risk engagements. The strategy she had worked out was probably overkill. But the voyagers were scared, and they needed the assurance of knowing she was on their case. Taking them out, doing the job, bringing them home.
The four voyagers serving on the front line each had backup that alternated between shield and anchor. Erin and Rube were joined with Carl and Ridley, her forward scouts. Their task was to move unseen through the high grass, stalking the predators.
Reese entered the monitoring station. The ranks of empty chairs to either side of the entrance were occupied by all the fears and doubts she could not share with anyone. Now there was space for only one thing. Bringing her team home.
She slipped into the chair next to Karla and said, “They’re all in the green?”
“Barely.” Karla’s hands shook as she worked the controls. There were seven monitors on the wall above the long desk. Karla had split the screens so they showed a face and the rapid-fire heart rates and breathing rhythms. She switched back and forth, blipping through all twenty. Ridley and Carl were the only voyagers who appeared calm.
Kevin entered the room and declared, “The guy Jones just called it in. They’re going on the attack. Ten minutes.”
“From when you spoke to them, or now?”
Kevin slipped into the chair next to hers and pointed at the digital clock above the top line of monitors. “Nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds.”
“Okay.” She turned to Karla. “I get the four teams started, then we release the scouts. Just like we prepped. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Now listen carefully. You heard what I said to the team. No questions, no arguments. The same applies to you.” When Karla looked ready to complain, Reese stabbed her ribs with one finger, hard as a gun barrel. “Pay attention. I am going to count them up. Then I am handing the controls over to Kevin. You’ve worked with him before.”
Reese did not give the technician time to whine. She swiveled her chair around and said, “Give the four main teams thirty minutes. Either that’s enough or . . .”
Kevin watched her with a gaze hardened by years of smoke and cordite. “You’re going after him, aren’t you. Hazard.”
Reese slipped an envelope from her pocket and replied, “I don’t want you to open this until I’m hooked up with Ridley and Carl.”
“What’s in here?”
“Instructions for my crew,” Reese replied. “You give us twenty-five minutes and the directive you’ve been waiting a year to say.”
Kevin nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
Reese turned back to the controls, ignored Karla’s tremors, and said, “Here we go.”
She gave her four main teams their instructions, she watched the clock, and when it was time she sent them out. All but the four voyagers waiting in the other chamber.
She knew she left the monitoring station at a calm walk. She felt her feet tread across the carpet. But inside, where it counted, she felt as though she flew in a low-altitude orbit.
Ridley greeted her with, “I knew you wouldn’t miss the fun.”
58
Lena stood on the rooftop waiting for Brett and watched the fog silently unfurl. The river vanished, then the aircraft carrier. But the mist that drifted down the roads toward them was not so heavy as to blanket her vision. It was more of a gentle veil, an Impressionist renderin
g of a poor New York neighborhood.
The door opened behind her. Lena heard Brett say, “Aren’t you cold?”
“Basically all I feel is numb,” Lena said. “Too many late nights. Too many intense events.”
When Brett settled his sweatshirt over her shoulders, Lena snagged his right hand. She wrapped his other arm around her middle, like she’d been doing it for years. Like they were a couple. Brett moved in close enough that she could feel his warmth, feed off the masculine strength.
Lena said, “We need to talk about what happened.”
Brett freed his left arm so he could trace the line of hair framing her forehead and ear and neck. “I’ve wanted to do that for days.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, Lena. And I’ll talk about it whenever you want. But we’re watch-on-watch until dawn, remember?”
“How much time do we have?”
He moved in closer still. “Not enough.”
Lena resisted the urge to turn around and kiss him. It was silly in this day and age to give so much importance to such a simple act. But she did not want that moment to arrive on the rooftop of a warehouse before the monsters attacked.
So she asked, “Did you ascend again?”
“I did. Yes.”
“Are they still coming?”
“Let Charlie fill you in, all right?” He buried his face in her hair. “Please.”
She rewarded that request by closing her eyes and leaning back, nestling against him from heel to hairline. They were still like that, immersed in each other, when Robin came to bring her down.
Robin replaced Bishop at the camp table holding the laptop monitor as Lena entered the room. Brett stood in the doorway, observing her with a gaze that could only be described as electric. Robin waited until Lena fitted on her neural net, then asked, “Can you hear me?”
“Five by five.”
“Charlie says we’re supposed to fill you in. Nothing’s changed. They strike in about . . .” Robin checked the computer’s clock. “Forty-seven minutes.”
“Okay.”
“He says to tell you the guys downstairs are on high alert. You’re to focus on . . . you know.”
