by Jacob Whaler
For the first time since they met, Rachel looks squarely at Kent. “So you think it was MX Global that took Little John away and killed the other Children. How can you be so sure?”
Clearing his throat, Kent folds his hands in his lap. “We found the company logo in the wreckage.”
“Anyone can paint a logo on a piece of metal. I don’t think that proves—”
“I can think of several reasons.” Jake picks his teeth with a piece of dry grass. “But it’s just a hunch, really.”
“Tell me,” Rachel says.
Kent leans forward, observing the conversation, Jake on his left and Rachel on the right.
Jake takes a long drink from a water bottle. “It required massive resources to mount an attack like that. The financial cost alone is staggering. Black Harpies run about 500 million IMUs each. They vaporized four of them like disposable cups.”
“True,” Rachel says. “But the U.S. government has hundreds of choppers. They could afford to throw a few away.”
Kent clears his throat. “I agree with Jake. A raid like this might cause a huge political scandal if it became public. The government wouldn’t risk it.”
“Anyway,” Jake says. “There’s another reason. Little John showed me some raw video from the Spider raid.”
Rachel moves forward and puts her elbows on the table. “What did you see?”
Leaning in, Kent keeps his voice low. “The head of the Company, a man named Ryzaard, has a Stone, just like Little John.”
“What?” Lines appear on Rachel’s forehead. “There’s more than one?”
Jake nods. “We know of at least four. Little John and Ryzaard. A Japanese man that Ryzaard killed. And of course Kent’s son.”
“So now Ryzaard has two of them?”
“Looks that way,” Kent says.
“How did so many Stones surface at once?” Rachel says.
Jake reaches a long arm across the table and touches her hand. His voice becomes a whisper. “Little John told me something about the Stones. He said they attract each other. If you have one, you can find others, if you know how to do it. I think that’s what Ryzaard is doing. Somehow he located Little John. Anyone with a Stone is now at risk.”
As they speak, Kent feels his dinner turn into a rock in the pit of his stomach.
CHAPTER 25
“So, what’s the plan,” Jessica says. “How are we going to find your dad? He’s a master at living off grid, under the radar.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Matt leans back. “As much as I hate say it, we’re too vulnerable to go after Dad right now. I wouldn’t know where to start looking. And Ryzaard is far too powerful.”
“So we need more power.”
“Which means more Stones.”
Jessica nods. “Isn’t that what Naganuma said to do? It’s time to gather the Stones.”
Matt runs the tip of his tongue back and forth across his cracked lower lip and looks down at the table. “It won’t be easy.” He speaks in a quiet voice, like he is talking to himself. “Ryzaard has a way to find the Stones. That’s how he found me. Now that he has Naganuma’s Stone, it will only go faster. He’ll be talking to all these same people.” Matt picks up the small leather book and begins to thumb through it again. “He’ll give them the same sales pitch he gave me. What if they choose him instead of me?” A bead of sweat runs down his forehead off the tip of his nose and lands on the middle of a page, leaving a dark mark.
Jessica shakes her head. “Matt, what if they don’t? What if they’re just like you and don’t want to sign up for a lifetime of involuntary servitude?” Her voice begins to rise. “The people in that little book are in grave danger. He’ll try to kill every one that refuses him, just like he did with you.”
A sudden weight pulls down on Matt’s shoulders. “But what can I do? I can’t force them to reject him. He has so much to offer. I don’t have a chance.” He buries his head in his hands, body trembling.
A warm arm reaches around his back and another one circles around his chest. “You have a Stone.” Jessica’s voice is soft and reassuring. “You have the book. You have the truth. You have the Allehonen. And you have me. I’d say that’s quite an army.” Her eyes go down to the table, and she picks up the book. “I wish I could read it. Where does it say the Stones are?”
“The eleventh Stone is in Rio de Janeiro. It’s the most recent.”
“Brazil,” Jessica says. “Are there any more in the United States?”
“Let’s see.” Matt turns the pages backward, working to the front. “Yes, right here. There’s a U.S. Holder listed. It looks like he’s moved around a lot. It starts in Los Angeles, and then Seattle, Reno, Phoenix and a bunch of other places. The last one listed is out on the eastern Colorado plain. The GPS coordinates are here.”
“Colorado? What’s his name?”
Matt sounds out the letters written in Japanese katakana script. “John McIntosh.”
“And the rest?” Jessica leans back and draws her legs up under her chin.
“Canada, Egypt, Thailand, Greece, Congo, Russia.” Matt sighs. “They’re all spread out.”
“Where should we go first?
“Somewhere easy,” Matt says. “Where they understand English.”
“I guess that means we’re heading back to Colorado. To find John McIntosh.”
Jessica frowns. “Not so fast. Won’t Ryzaard be able to track your Stone as soon as we arrive?”
“He didn’t find me when I went to Naganuma’s shrine to get this little book. I slipped in and out without a trace, thanks to my cloaking box. If we’re careful, I think we can do it.”
“All right. Back to Colorado.”
CHAPTER 26
“I heard you have something to show me, Jerek.” Ryzaard bursts through the open door of the science lab. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s set up.” Jerek walks to an open space in his office. Electronics equipment is stacked on rolling racks and litters the room. Power cables snake across the floor and out the door. “Excuse the mess. I threw it together as fast as I could.”
“A mess is a sign of true genius.”
Jerek stands next to two bluescreens. “The left screen shows the data sample taken from the shrine grounds at the moment the kid vanished.” He touches the glass. A mass of charts and graphs appears in red, green and yellow. “I’ve fed all the data points from the sample into the field generators to replicate the electromagnetic energy patterns right here in this room.” He picks up a slate on a nearby table and makes fine-tuning adjustments. “It’s as if you were standing next to the kid when he jumped away. Can you sense it?”
Ryzaard places both hands loosely on the two Stones attached to his chest harness. He closes his eyes. The seconds pass in silence.
“Yes, I feel it.” He moves a few paces to the left and back one step. “It’s strongest right here. I think I have it.” A relaxing sensation rolls through his mind. The air around his body flashes white.
Jerek stares at the slate. “Interesting. The instruments just detected a slight—” His eyes jump up and move around the room. “Dr. Ryzaard?”
There is no answer. Ryzaard is gone.
CHAPTER 27
“Shall we begin?” Dr. Small stands a few inches from the right shoulder of the patient. Below him, the chest on the table rises and falls in deep, rhythmic motion. He looks up at the young woman directly across the patient. “Please confirm status.”
She turns her head crisply to the left and glances at a bluescreen near the patient’s feet. Lines of red, blue, yellow and white snake across its surface. “Breathing is normal, heart function optimal, no brain anomalies.”
“Excellent,” Dr. Small says. “Begin site prep.” The index finger of his gloved hand touches a bluescreen suspended horizontally over the patient’s abdominal section. A panel opens on the box-shaped machine to the side of the patient’s head. A multi-jointed stainless steel rod moves silently out. The laser scalpel at its t
ip gently presses against the patient’s skin just below the right ear and inscribes a red line in the shape of an egg one centimeter across. A tiny pair of forceps removes the skin, exposing the raw flesh underneath, and withdraw back into the panel. A clear plastic tube comes out and sprays a mist of blue liquid on the wound site.
“Site prep complete,” Dr. Small says. “Begin bio interface sequence.” A flexible, clear tube emerges from the machine. A structure of interwoven black and red filaments fills its center. The tip of the tube slowly penetrates the wound site. Blood oozes around its edges as it plunges deep into the area behind the patient’s ear. Dr. Small looks down at the bluescreen. “Careful, now. Approaching medulla connection.”
The patient’s mouth opens wide, exposing perfect rows of white teeth. His breathing is suddenly erratic.
“Confirm vitals,” Dr. Small stares at the screen.
The assistant throws a glance sharply to her left. “Pulse rate surging, but still within parameters. Blood pressure below program levels. Respiratory count dropping. Oxygen levels approaching critical band.”
“Initiate triloxial injection,” Small says.
“Confirmed.”
A round sphere the size of a ping-pong ball opens near the patient’s left wrist, and a silver tube with a needle tip emerges and slides into the skin. The patient’s breathing slows.
“Pulse dropping back to optimal. Blood pressure stable. Oxygen level restored to median range.” The assistant looks up at Dr. Small. Beads of sweat rise on her forehead.
Dr. Small smiles. “Good work, Amanda.” His index finger slides across the bluescreen and slows to a stop. “Medulla connection confirmed.”
The tube withdraws from the patient’s head and disappears back into the machine, leaving a small tail of black and red filaments protruding from the wound site.
“Prepare neural implant,” Dr. Small says. “Time to hit the homerun.”
Amanda turns to her left and reaches out to a small table where a black box is suspended inside a glass sphere. She brushes a green dot on the sphere with her finger. The top of the black box opens like a miniature coffin, and white vapor pours out of its interior and over its sides, revealing a brilliant green jewel in the shape of a tiny claw. She reaches through an opening in the glass case with long tweezers and gently lifts the jewel out of the clear solution in which it is submerged.
Dr. Small turns to observe her. “Careful, Amanda. We only have one of those. It must be worth billions.” He holds out a white tray no bigger than the palm of his hand.
With trembling fingers, Amanda places the green jewel on the tray. It makes a crisp clinking sound on contact.
“Thank you.” Dr. Small holds his breath as he passes the tray from his right hand to his left. “From this point on, we’ll be doing it the old-fashioned way.” He takes a small pair of forceps from a side table and picks up the jewel, turning it in front of his eyes. “An exquisite piece of technology. I’ve never seen anything like it. Revolutionary. Other-worldly.” He places it neatly on the wound site below the patient’s right ear, just touching the black and red filament helix. “Almost done.” He looks up at Amanda. “Initiate final site architecture.”
She brushes the glass screen below her. A mist of blue liquid sprays from a tube onto the jewel. A silver arm extends out of the machine and places a protective covering, like a small dome, over the wound site.
“And now for the final touch.” Dr. Small drops a finger to the bluescreen below him. The protective covering closes around the wound accompanied by the sound of suction. The black and red filaments protruding from the skin touch the jewel and attach to its underside. The covering fuses with the edge of skin around the entire wound site, leaving only the jewel exposed.
Dr. Small exhales and looks at Amanda, nodding.
“Shall I do the connection integrity diagnostic?” she says.
“Proceed.”
Her fingertips play on the bluescreen near her waist. Multiple green bars push in a line across its surface. “Connection integrity confirmed.” She looks up. “The implant should be fully functional.”
Dr. Small inhales long and deep. He stares up at the ceiling and lets the air escape slowly through his lips.
“This is a historic moment,” Amanda says. “The first fully functional mind-control implant. I’m sure Dr. Ryzaard will be pleased with the results.”
“Indeed.”
CHAPTER 28
“That was incredible.” Jessica’s chest still heaves from the exertion of the ski run. Giant ferns bend down to touch the warm snow just a few feet away.
Matt leans on his poles and twists to eye the summit of the mountain behind them. “Shall we head back to the house and get ready to leave, or do another one.”
Jessica closes her eyes and takes a gulp of air. “I don’t think I can top that last one.” She glances at the trail through the jungle back to the house. “Let’s quit while we’re on top.” Her water bindings drain away, leaving bare feet standing on the skis.
They walk down the trail, hand in hand, each balancing skis and poles over their shoulders.
Jessica suddenly stops. “I want to remember this moment.” She pulls his head down to hers and presses her lips against his. After counting to ten, Matt breaks away, takes a deep breath and starts to straighten his neck, but she grabs his head and pulls it back down. “I’m not done yet.” Her skis drop to the ground. She drapes both arms around Matt’s neck and brings his face close to hers again. Her lips brush against his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The seconds pass as she shops around. Finally, her eyes drop down as her lips find his.
Matt lets his skis fall to the ground and puts both arms around her.
Never forget this, he thinks.
After a long time, Jessica opens her eyes and looks up. “So, we’re going back to Colorado?”
“Sounds like a good place to start,” Matt says.
A tremor runs through Matt’s body like a silent shockwave. He looks around, a worried look on his face.
“Anything wrong?” Jessica says.
“I think—”
Something hard slams into his chest, taking him to the ground. The world around him goes black.
CHAPTER 29
“So this is the Freedom Express?” Kent looks up at the transport truck parked at the side of the road. Eight sets of silicon tires taller than a man run down each side of the platform behind the cab. From end to end, it must be a hundred meters long.
The words WARNING: EXPLOSIVES are printed in human-sized red letters running its full length.
“That’s right,” Jake says. “It’ll take us as far as Idaho. We’ll catch a transfer from there.”
Kent scans the transport. He’s almost afraid to ask the next question, but he does anyway.
“Where do we ride?”
Jake snorts. “In a concealed compartment back with the cargo. Unless you want to ride in the cab and go through an identity check at every weigh station.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“It’s not so bad,” Jake says. “It’ll give us time to talk. I got a lot to tell you.”
“Sounds like we’re going to be on the road for a while. Are you sure this is the quickest way to find my son?”
Jake turns his face up to the sun. “I know you’re worried and want to find him now. You’re thinking this long ride to a freedom camp is going to be a big waste of time. Am I right?”
“Yep.”
“But neither one of us has any idea where he is or what he may be doing.”
“As much as I hate to admit it.” Kent lets out a long exhale. “You’re right.”
“OK, then.” Jake brings his face down from the sun. “You got to trust me. The quickest way to find your son is to get to the freedom camp outside of Vancouver. And the quickest way to get to the freedom camp is on this transport.”
“What do we do after we get there?”
“Find out more about Little Joh
n’s Stone.” Jake starts to walk away. “Some people at the camp were pretty close to him. They may have information that will lead us to your son. It’s all we got right now, unless you have a better idea?”
“Nope.”
“Look, I know it’s hard. A madman is on the loose looking for your son. But I need you to relax. Show me a little patience. We’ll find that kid of yours.”
“OK. I’ll be patient. Let’s go.” Kent follows Jake around to the back of the transport where a house-sized door stands open. They climb a ladder and enter the cargo area. A sweet smell hangs in the air, reminding Kent of maple syrup. Huge round bins are lashed to the insides of the truck and run its entire length. Before Kent can protest, the door swings shut behind them and gets bolted down from outside, leaving them standing in the pitch-dark interior.
“Now you know how I feel with no eyes,” Jake says. “Just hold on to my shoulder and you’ll be fine.”
They move forward into the darkness. Kent senses the large bins on either side. After traversing the full length of the cargo area, Jake stops. “Just give me a second to find the door knob.” He moves his hand up a wall. “It’s different every time.” His hand slides back down and diagonally to the right. “Here it is.”
A door opens on squeaky hinges.
“I’ll find the light,” Jake says.
When the light comes on, Kent looks around the small room. It smells like an antique bookstore Kent used to go to in midtown Manhattan. Two comfortable chairs are placed close to the wall on the left. A small refrigerator and sink are on the right. A shelf full of old books stands by the open door behind him.
Jake shuts the door and points straight ahead to another door. “Bathroom’s right there. Nothing fancy.” He sits down in one of the chairs and exhales. “We got all the necessities. Food, water, books and a bathroom. And lots of time.”
A tremor ripples through the floor. Kent falls back against the door as the transport truck lurches forward. He finds the empty chair next to Jake and lays his head back. “Can I ask you a question?”
