by LC Champlin
“We have to make allies. This isn’t a situation we can successfully negotiate alone.”
“They are more mouths to feed.” She ignored the fact that her mouth also counted in the tally. “They will come here and betray us. They will eat our food, take everything of value we have, and leave us to the cannibals. They’re not like us. We don’t even know them.”
“Mrs. Wong, kindly return to your home, and take your friends with you.” He met their gazes in turn. “I don’t know how she convinced you into coming, but it was a mistake. Enjoy what we’ve built here rather than fighting us. We have to work together for the common good if we want to live.”
“They’re not going to help us,” asserted the female minion, a Caucasian in her forties, with shoulder-length brunette hair and a fit build. “We’re sick of letting new people in. We let you and your friends in, and look what’s happened.” She spread arms to take in the apparent chaos, failing to realize she included the desalinization tents, guard emplacements, and training field. “We have what we need here. We can gather supplies—”
“Go home.” Nathan pushed forward to tower over them from the porch steps. Did they think they could convince him? Idiots. “There’s no water to break your fall this time, Mrs Wong.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m pointing out a fact. Go home.” He moved to their periphery, between them and his researchers.
As the scientists took advantage of the escape route, jeers followed: “Are you his pets?”
“Can’t stand up for yourselves?”
“Is your science saving you?”
Nathan held his ground. “It’s only by the goodwill of this neighborhood that you’re still here after what you did. Your son-in-law caused Carolyn’s death. I wouldn’t be here advising if she were alive.” Of course he would be, but they didn’t need to know this.
“Come. There’s no sense wasting time with this fool.” With a harrumph, Mrs. Wong turned on her tiny heel and marched off with her minions in tow.
“What are you going to do about her?” Stacy asked from Nathan’s left.
What indeed? “It’s natural for them to feel restless. She’s correct about the number of mouths to feed increasing. She is, however, incorrect about them being a detriment.” He would make the alliance work. Somehow. Never let a crisis go to waste.
“We won’t have to worry about her much longer,” Nancy put in. “We’ll be going over to the research building soon.”
The scientists broke up, heading for their homes or tasks.
Josephine came to his side as the people dispersed. “It had to be the Red Devil Goats who left the box here, right?”
“Likely. The box must be why we had the unprovoked cannibal attacks. It may be on a timer. It may even be remotely controlled with a drone acting as a transmitter.”
She looked up into the darkening expanse with a shudder. “It’s almost like being in a sci-fi movie to think of eyes in the sky watching you.”
“Drones aren’t the only things watching. Satellites can see us as well.”
“I don’t know what’s scarier, the cannibals or the capacity of humanity to be inhumane.”
“Both.”
“Now that the meeting’s over, there’s something you’ll want to see. Badal and I found it.”
++++++++++++
“Now that you’ve eaten,” Kenichi-san greeted his visitors in the dining room, “it’s time for you to get on with your mission. I wouldn’t want you to lose time on the great hunt.” He grinned, squinting like the Happy Buddha. But an oni’s cunning flashed deep in his eyes.
Albin said nothing. Bridges and Kuznetsov gazed at the inventor, uncomprehending of their expulsion.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Resting his shoulder on the wall, he began toying with the mechanical puzzle.
His black clothing formed a blot of decay on the crimson wall. Above him, red spikes protruded from the ceiling like fangs. According to Bridges, it resembled a chamber from a level in the game Faithful Dark.
“Where are we to go?” Kuznetsov asked.
“You can go to San Francisco, you can go to Oakland, you can go to New York. You can go to Jesus!” Their host spread his arms. “I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here. Don’t worry, though, I’m not going to throw you out in the cold—much. I think you’ll find my office at Seaport comfy. You can’t take my yacht, but I did get another boat for you.” He threw a keychain onto the table. “On there is a memory card with the information you want. The virtual glasses system in my office is like the one in the Oshiro. It’s not quite as advanced, but it will let you interact with the system.”
“Thank you, Kenichi-san.” Albin bowed his head in gratitude. “We will put your resources to good use.”
“I’m sure you will. I would hate to see Nathan shipwreck himself. We dark gods must stick together, right?” He raised a brow.
“I could do without the god complex.”
“Or perhaps you could do with a god complex of your own.” This he followed with a grin.
Bridges gestured to the inventor’s puzzle. “What’s the solution to that thing?”
“This?” Kenichi-san jangled the metal pieces. “Simple.” He withdrew a key from his pocket. When he turned the blade in the padlock, the bar opened, freeing the chain and ring. “Like all things, it’s simple if you have the key.”
Chapter 44
Diary of a Mad Scientist
Twisted - MISSIO
Nathan and Josephine made their way to the house Badal stayed in, on the other side of Keelson Circle.
When she knocked on the door, Badal greeted them with a wide grin. “Buddy!” He threw an arm around Nathan’s shoulder and pulled him inside. “I’m glad you stopped by. This is about that thing we found, right, Jo?”
“Show him.”
The software engineer rubbed his hands together. “Looky here.” He pulled up an image file and opened it in the viewer: Victor and Lexa Birk in Chinatown.
A chill rolled over Nathan. Lexa Birk again. She played a role in this disaster. And I’ll find out what it is.
“Remember the steganography that hid the encryption keys?”
“Of course. We found the keys in photos of Lexa and Vic.”
“Check this out.” He opened the image in Notepad, revealing a block of text invisible when opened in the viewer. But instead of the random numbers and letters common to encryption keys, the King’s English appeared.
It read: Lexa is in a good mood, but I don’t think it’s because of my promotion or because she took her happy pills. More likely it’s due to her work.
Didn’t Birk have enough to do? No, he had to pour out his heart in secret image files like a teenage girl hiding her diary.
Badal snorted. “The 1980s called. It wants its journaling back.”
“I haven’t read much yet,” Josephine answered Nathan’s question before he could launch it. “But it looks like he talks about Lexa’s work and his thoughts on the world’s state.”
“Riveting.” But knowing Birk’s thoughts could provide insight about how to use his data. Then again, his research’s importance paled in comparison to the Goats’ files. Rather, the files they had torn from the poor bastards at the St. Regis, among other locations.
“Review them and let me know the highlights. I’ll also take a look.”
“It’s not just this picture,” Josephine added. “It’s every picture with Lexa in it.”
“What was his fetish with his sister?” Nathan’s nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Does my name start with Victor and end in Birk?” Badal quipped as he threw his hands up and leaned back in the chair.
“Good work, both of you.” They each earned a nod of approval.
Josephine’s shoulders twitched with a shrug. “We’ll just have to plow through them. It’s not like we can speak with either of the Birks.”
+++++
+++++++
“I’m almost surprised Ken didn’t make us build our own boat or steal it from somebody,” Bridges remarked from the stern of the watercraft, a vessel that fell between a speed boat and a skiff.
“This isn’t exactly a yacht, though.” Kuznetsov hunched on the bench seat on the port side.
Albin’s attention remained on the water ahead as he manned the helm. “We may yet have to do so, but for the moment, I will be grateful for what we have.” The boat measured only seventeen feet and lacked the speed of the yacht. However, it included a GPS and depth finder, as well as a radio that would serve as their communication link with Kenichi-san.
Defying expectations, the inventor also provided them with enough food and water for three days. While Kenichi-san had directed them to rations he stored at the office, he meant the location only as a temporary safety point in times of emergency. Thus, only three days of rations existed in the building, when one calculated the needs of three men and a dog.
Albin decreased the throttle as they approached Seaport. Rather than returning to Westpoint Harbor, they continued to the Sequoia Yacht Club on the western side of the peninsula, near the Port of Redwood City and a kilometer southeast of the ONI office. They would have to return to the Tacoma on foot, but they would avoid any police who investigated the deaths of their colleagues, or who continued their crimes. The gathering darkness would also shield the travelers.
As Albin guided the craft into a slip, Bridges and Judge leapt out to secure the moorings. The area appeared deserted. Sliding the keys into his pocket, Albin joined Bridges on the dock. Kuznetsov offloaded their rucksacks before joining the trio.
The journey to Seaport passed in tense silence. The men held their weapons ready, while Judge trotted beside them with ears erect.
The office buildings rose ahead. Albin adjusted his pack’s straps across his shoulders. “We should not require this place for an extended period. When we take Redwood Shores from Mr. Serebus, he will have no choice but to return with us.”
Trudging beside Albin, Bridges pursed his lips. “What if we left him alone until it’s closer to the time when he can fly out?”
Albin paused to glance about, but no cannibals prowled the area. “I am concerned that the more protracted his stay there, the more power he will gain. As you said, power will continue to corrupt. In that amount of time, he is capable of wreaking considerable havoc if he desires.”
“This is how the Communists came to power,” Kuznetsov declared.
“It’s not like he’s out committing genocide,” argued the economist. “Yes, he shouldn’t have attempted to kill Ken, and he shouldn’t have turned on the frequency broadcast—”
“Are you arguing for or against him?” Albin cast the man a skeptical glance as they approached the ONI office’s rear.
“Neither!” Hands out from his side, Bridges looked from Albin to Kuznetsov, imploring.
“If you wish to return to the command center and await a flight to Washington DC, you are free to do so.” It would diminish the group’s effectiveness, but lack of resolve translated to lack of force as well.
“I just want to understand the situation. If I can’t, how am I supposed to know what the points of power are or how to leverage our resources to best effect?”
“Believe me when I tell you he will only make things worse.” Jaws clenched, Albin produced the keys to the building, which Kenichi-san had lent them largely for the purpose of installing the men as guards at his property. “That is his modus operandi when left to his own devices. He will reach his ends by whatever means necessary.”
Chapter 45
Night Visitors
God's Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash
The four entered the ONI building, Albin locking the door behind them. No need to disable the security system, as it had expended its battery life. No one would respond to a burglary at this point anyway; the police had other matters to attend, such as stealing watercraft and murdering civilians.
They made their way to Kenichi-san’s office, torches lighting their way. The keys to this door also belonged to Albin. He entered with caution. The throne room of a Japanese lord greeted them. The wall bore two red Asian dragons curling along its length. A statue of an oni, resembling an ogre, occupied one corner, while a suit of samurai armor guarded another. The inventor’s desk, however, exemplified modern style: glass, with an executive chair behind and two flat-screen monitors atop it.
“Find the food stores.” Albin unshouldered his pack. “I will familiarize myself with the information Kenichi-san provided.” As he spoke, he removed a glasses case, then traded his wire rims for Kenichi-san’s sport frames.
“Hey, this is a window!” The last rays of day spilled into the room an instant after the economist’s discovery. What resembled a solid wall behind the desk slid aside to reveal a floor-to-ceiling window. It overlooked the Pacific Shores Club recreation center.
While the others set about making the office habitable, Albin studied Kenichi-san’s information via the glasses. He jotted down relevant points as the information scrolled past. When it finished, he sat back and massaged his temples. It did nothing to calm the ache behind his eyes.
“Did you get the cheat code to winning the game?” Sarcasm filled Bridges’s tone as he dropped into a chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“The information was not exhaustive.” He would have to act with a hunter’s circumspection, or else Mr. Serebus would win the day and perhaps even the city. What would that mean for the residents? He would protect them, but only as long as he could employ them for his benefit. In short, he would devolve into the end result of every government in history: a tyrant. But tyrants always fell.
“We will strike what he values most,” Albin resolved. “Without Redwood Shores, he will lack the ability to expand his power. Then he will soon lose interest in his game.”
Kuznetsov took a chair at the left of the desk. “What about the people?”
“Their leaders are capable enough.”
“So we hit the heart of the neighborhood?” Bridges asked.
Leaving his chair, Albin crossed to the backpack and withdrew a paper map. Then he unfolded it on the desk. An emergency lantern provided illumination. “We are here.” He placed an X with a pencil on Seaport’s peninsula. “This is Redwood Shores.” He marked the peninsula north of them, across Bair Island State Marine Park. “Note that it is divided by Belmont Channel. He is here.” An X for the southern half of the community. “When I spoke with him at the Coyote Point Recreation Area, he mentioned a building in which he planned to develop the cannibal control technology. It is in this area.” He circled the industrial park on the north side of Redwood Shores. “I have known Mr. Serebus for eight years, and I will wager my life that this is what he values.”
“How are we going to take it from him?” Bridges scratched his head. “Blow it up? Ken didn’t give us any explosives. Are we supposed to go in and ransack it?”
“None of that will be required.” Albin turned a cold smile on his colleagues. “We will unleash the truth, and it will set us free.”
++++++++++++
Albin, Kuznetsov, and Bridges spent the evening in preparation. They explored the building as much as the fading daylight and their torches would allow, and familiarized themselves with the map. In the morning, they would search the harbor’s watercraft and the nearby offices for more supplies.
As night deepened, the trio and Judge climbed into the skiff. Three poles accompanied them to facilitate silent running.
“You know,” Bridges began, “I guess it’s good we didn’t have the yacht. This thing draws so little water that we can pull right up to shore. It sucks for long distance, but we don’t have to do that much. The sloughs don’t give it any problem.”
They followed Redwood Creek—a channel, in truth—northwest until they reached the Silicon Valley Clean Water facility. A shallow bay a few hundred meters sou
th of the complex provided a landing place. Bridges and Judge stayed with the skiff, while Albin and Kuznetsov set off down the paved coastal trail. Two kilometers passed in enforced silence, bringing them to the heart of the neighborhood.
“You know your task,” Albin confirmed with Kuznetsov.
“I do. Good luck.”
They approached along Redwood Parkway, pressing against the fence that bordered the sidewalk. Under the shelter of a copse of trees, Albin offered his hands as a stirrup to Kuznetsov. Then he pulled himself over the fence.
Darkness shrouded them as they made their way onto Keelson Circle.
“They will have a curfew,” Albin reasoned, “but they lack the manpower and technology to provide adequate surveillance. Their attention will be largely on the outside. Now that we are inside, our task is simplified.”
They split up, Kuznetsov moving down the street and Albin targeting the Musters’ residence.
The shadows seemed to crawl with him as he crept toward the house. Only three days ago, though it felt like decades, he had taken this route when they first encountered the Musters.
As he neared the Musters’ domicile, he collected a handful of gravel from a flowerbed in a nearby yard. With a last check of his surroundings, he entered their front garden. The area appeared devoid of life as the two-story loomed over him. Waxing gibbous, the moon washed the house in charnel gray.
He pressed on, careful to remain near the wall. He eased to the first window with his weapon at high ready. The window correlated with the game room, Mr. Serebus’s chosen accommodation. A crack in the blinds provided a view. Nothing. Perhaps the residents had realized Mr. Serebus’s true nature and exiled him.
Albin continued around the wall. Amanda’s room, the master suite, boasted a sliding glass door. He darted across it and reached the guest bedroom, formerly Albin’s room. It now belonged to another.
