by E. R. Torre
“It’s a real shame about them,” Robert said, referring to the people below. “We can’t afford any leaks. Whatever’s left needs to be sterilized. Completely sterilized. No loose ends. Understood?”
Nagel nodded once again just as a muffled roar filled the corridor. The two turned to see the burly Security Guard opening the door leading to Nox’s cell. The man entered the corridor and put away his still smoking gun before approaching the duo. There were drops of blood and gore on his green jumpsuit. The Security Guard wiped the stains and said:
“It’s done. Nox is dead.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
A single weathered cargo truck tore along the desert road. A sudden windstorm flared up in its path, sending waves of sand into the vehicle’s windshield. The truck sped on, cutting through the haze and uneven terrain. The storm grew stronger, until the truck’s drivers reluctantly slowed down. They wanted desperately to move on, to finish this particular delivery. They had a feel for the land and the extreme weather conditions the desert threw at them. What they weren’t used to was their grim cargo.
While the drivers moved their truck cautiously forward, they chatted, laughed, drank, and ate. Their laughter was nervous, their conversations stilted. It seemed every action was forced.
They didn’t talk once about cargo.
Instead, memories of it lingered in their minds. Just a couple of feet behind their seats and in the truck’s cargo bay were some three dozen bodies, both male and female. They were spread about one on top of the other. Many of the corpses were pristine. They looked like they were only sleeping, a sure sign of poisoning. At least half of them, however, sported ugly bullet wounds and blood. Plenty of blood.
Loading them was the worst.
When the drivers were first called in, they found the bodies lying at the base of a rock valley in the middle of nowhere, ready to be carted away. A single Octi Corp. pencil pusher waited for the drivers to arrive. The first thing he did was have them sign the standard non-disclosure forms.
“Load up,” the pencil pusher said after the paperwork was properly dealt with.
“Where should we take—”
The pencil pusher stared deep into the drivers’ eyes.
“Somewhere very far away and very. very deep. If your…cargo…should ever reappear, and inquiries are made, it’s your asses.”
One of the drivers pointed to the bodies and said:
“Are they contaminated? Should we wear some protection?”
“Do you see me wearing any protection?” the pencil pusher said.
“What happened to them?” the other driver asked.
The pencil pusher lowered his clipboard. Once again he stared at the drivers. As before, his eyes were ice cold.
“You’re paid to do a job, not ask questions. If you don’t want to do this, we can always find someone else.”
It took them an hour to load the bodies. At first they counted them, one at a time, but after a while they lost track and decided it was best to simply hurry up and finish. By the time the bodies were in the truck, the drivers were tired and hungry and knew their work was only half-done.
The pencil pusher nodded in satisfaction.
“We never met and you never did this,” he said. He gave the drivers their money and simply walked away, disappearing into the rocky hills.
“Goodbye to you too,” one of the drivers called out as the other counted the cash.
“It’s all here,” the driver counting the cash said.
“Then let’s go.”
The trip to the pits normally took three hours. Their slow trek became a crawl, until the fierce storm forced them to stop. The drivers popped open their coolers and had some beer.
They still did not talk about what they were hauling.
In the cargo bay, the twisted corpses lay still. Most wore researcher uniforms or casual work clothes. At least three corpses wore Security Guard uniforms.
Nox lay next to one of them.
She was pale and deathly still, a minor element in a grisly plateau. There was a considerable amount of dried blood on the right side of her face.
The cargo bay lurched with the growing winds. One of the hands before Nox’s face shifted. Cut razor wire was wrapped around the hand’s wrist. It was her own.
Nox’s left eye opened and she let out a low moan before closing it again. Her body became still for several long minutes. When she once again came to, the storm was dying. Faint slivers of light broke through the cargo bay’s walls.
Nox looked around, surprised to be alive and confused by her new surroundings.
“What…the hell?”
It took her a while to fully comprehend what she was seeing. Her last memories involved staring into the barrel of a gun without any possible escape. She had slipped into unconsciousness and reluctantly welcomed her end. She was finished.
There was no way the Octi Security Guard missed that shot. There was no miraculous salvation. Nox examined her arms. The razor wire was cut to free her from the metal chair, but strands remained tied around her wrists. She unwound the wire and moved her body. The limbs of the other corpses shifted as she did. It took her a while before she was on top of them all. She felt her arms and legs and stomach and back.
She had taken a severe beating and lost her right eye, but there were no gunshot wounds on her.
What exactly happened back there?
There was only one possibility: The Security Guard rejected Robert Octi Jr.’s order and decided not to kill her.
Why?
Nox tried to find some reason, something that made some kind –any– kind of sense, but couldn’t.
No use thinking about it. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.
With each passing minute, Nox felt more strength return. Despite the beatings, despite the torture, her conditioning was good and she knew in time she would recover.
But first she had to get out of here. Now more than ever she had to finish what she started.
The truck’s engine once again came to life and the cargo bay lurched as she moved forward. A body flopped beside Nox. Familiar eyes stared up at the Mechanic. It was Rebecca, the woman who Robert Octi Junior hit and the very same woman who turned Nox in.
There was a single gunshot wound to the side of her head. A kill shot, the exact type of wound Nox should have received. The back of Rebecca’s head was a hollowed out mess. Nox reached forward and gently closed the woman’s still open eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Despite her actions, Nox could not fault Rebecca for what she did. She had become, like the members of the Octi survey van and the researchers in the hidden base, another victim of Octi Corp.’s Desertlands project.
Whatever the Corporation was involved in here, it was something they wanted kept secret at all costs.
Nox crawled to the back of the truck’s cargo bay. She searched for a latch or handle, anything that would open the rear door, but found nothing. The door was securely bolted down and, without any tools, there was no way she could force it open.
Nox leaned back against the cargo bay wall and waited. Where ever they were going, they would reach their destination soon enough. By then, Nox hoped, enough of her strength would be back.
She’d need every ounce of it.
For over an hour the sound of clashing gears intruded on Nox’s sleep. Finally, brakes were engaged and the enormous truck shivered and stopped. Moments later, its engine died. Nox heard laughter and the sound of casual conversation coming from the driver’s cabin.
Nox guessed there were only two of them, as she heard only two distinct voices. The drivers stepped out of the truck and, for a very long time, their voices were muffled by distance. Nox heard the sound of shovels biting into dirt. After a while, one of the drivers said:
“That’s deep enough.”
They approached the back of their truck and opened the cargo bay. Brilliant sunlight bathed the interior of the cargo bay and the full scope of slaughter to the O
cti staff was clear. Nox kept perfectly still, yet found it hard to believe the carnage surrounding her. The last time she saw something like this, she was in a small village in Arabia. The memories screamed at her and Nox fought hard not to shake.
One of the truck’s drivers grabbed the legs of the nearest victim and pulled him down.
“I think you did the right thing,” he told his partner. “The Delta medical insurance is far better than that shit the boss was peddling, even if it costs a few more bucks each month.”
“Tell me about it,” his partner responded. He grabbed a lady’s arms and pulled hard.
“If it were up to them, we’d be performing surgery on each other to save them a credit or two.”
“For sure. If you don’t ask questions, they’ll stick you where they want to. Did I tell you how many forms I had to fill to get some fuckin' aspirin last time I got sick?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to tell them about the loose cap. I—Man, it’s starting to smell real bad.”
The two pulled the corpses across the desert floor and to the freshly dug hole. A pair of shovels stood to the side, thrust in the sand in front of the pit.
“If you hold your breath and shut your mouth, we get this done a lot quicker,” the first man said. He rolled his body into the hole.
“Wish they were paying by the hour.”
“In that case, we’d make the job last all day. Smelly corpses? I don’t smell nothing. Far as I’m concerned, we’re working in a fucking rose garden!”
They laughed and turned back to the truck to retrieve another pair of corpses. Neither of them noticed that the two shovels they left behind was now a single shovel.
“When we get this done, we should head to the Cross-Town bar,” the first man said. He was a few feet ahead of his companion. “I’ve developed a powerful thirst. How ‘bout you, Bobby?” He took a few steps. “Bobby?”
When his partner didn’t answer, the man spun around. His face turned deathly pale. His partner lay face down on the sand, the back of his head crushed and bloody.
Standing over the corpse was a vision from a dark nightmare: A bloody and bruised dark haired woman holding a bloody shovel. The woman’s right eye was sealed shut. Her left stared forward, directly at the truck’s remaining driver.
There was no pity in her one eyed glare.
No pity at all.
Nox wiped the sweat from her face. Behind her were thirty five individual graves. Only one of them was marked, for Nox knew the name of only one of the victims. She used a loose wooden board she found in the truck’s cargo bay and a tire iron to write that name.
Rebecca.
When she was done with the burials, Nox disconnected the cables that held the truck to its now empty cargo container. She was exhausted and her body was racked with pain. Fortunately, the truck drivers had plenty of rations and a canteen. She drank and ate and searched some more before finding a first aid kit.
It was filled with salve, gauze, and a bottle of Go! pills. Their label stated they were “the anti-biotic/anesthetic of choice for the man on the Go!” Nox was familiar with the drug. During the Arabian Wars, Republic soldiers used experimental medication similar to this one to fend off disease or injury. Not only did they heal your body, but they were also good stimulants. The last thing any army needs in time of war is a tired, injured soldier.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Nox muttered.
She wrapped the gauze around her injured eye and used another roll to patch up the most significant cuts on her body. She then took four Go! pills and, after some fifteen minutes, felt the old, familiar rush of adrenaline. She rooted around the truck’s cabin some more and found a map in a compartment behind the driver’s seat.
Nox was pleased to find the drivers marked the areas they traveled. This gave Nox an excellent idea of the direction she needed to take from here. When she had her bearings, she examined the compass mounted to the dashboard.
Ready or not...
Nox felt the blood pounding in her temples. She turned the ignition and the truck’s engine roared to life. Nox shifted the truck into gear and tapped on the accelerator. The truck lurched forward and Nox curled her lips into a fierce snarl.
…here I come.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The ride back to the Demon’s base was bumpy and taxing but Nox made good time.
Now and again the Mechanic stared at the map or the compass or both, but by and large her route across the monotonously flat desert was straight and due south.
After an hour or two, Nox spotted familiar rocks and small valleys. She also saw, in the very far distance, an inky black smoke rising into the sky.
She knew what it meant.
Nox arrived at the entrance to the buried base by late afternoon. The specific rock formations that formed the outer walls of the base were gone, replaced by an enormous black hole. The sliding roof was collapsed and heavy black smoke dissipated into the air. Overhead came a buzzing, and Nox spotted a single helicopter approach the area.
Nox ignored it and walked to the edge of the enormous pit. Dying sunlight illuminated the ruins below. The remains of each of the ten floors were ripped apart and the smell of spent explosives was heavy in the air.
There was nothing left to see. Robert Octi Junior made sure of that. Nox returned to the truck. The helicopter was much closer now, and Nox recognized the blue and white colors of Tower Corporation. Nox waved to them as she drove away.
“It’s all yours,” she said.
Nighttime fell slowly, and Nox fought off waves of fever induced chills. Her temperature spiked, so she took another four Go! pills. They cleared her head and reduced her fever while waking her right up. But the beatings and injuries had taken their toll, and even with the stimulants, she knew she couldn’t keep driving much longer.
Nox searched for a place to hide her truck and found it in a rocky crag. She hadn’t seen any other helicopters in the sky, but worried Tower Co. personnel pursued her.
Either that, Nox thought, or the stimulants are making me paranoid.
Nox fought back a smile.
That’s why the army discontinued the drug’s use. Worse than a tired, injured soldier is a wired, paranoid soldier looking to frag anyone near them, friend or foe.
Nox’s hands trembled when she parked and wild thoughts filled her head. She didn’t want to face Tower Co. She had enough problems with Octi.
The thoughts lingered even while Nox drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, Nox was ravenous.
The fever, for the moment, was gone. Her injuries, wet and oozing yesterday, were almost all dry and healing today. Nox removed the wrapping around her right eye and examined it in the rear view mirror. Her eyelid was sealed with dried blood and horrifically inflamed. She felt along the eyelid’s edges and a spurt of yellow puss drizzled out from within.
Nox gnashed her teeth as a fresh wave of pain flooded her body.
In time things calmed down. Nox used some canteen water to rinse the dried blood but was very careful to not touch the most sensitive wounds. She laid some salve around the eye and re-wrapped it before eating breakfast.
She then took another four Go! pills and drove off.
After several hours of driving, Nox spotted the three mesas she was looking for. She recognized their shapes and in particular recognized the one that held the Octi Corp. sniper a few days earlier. Nox corrected course and aimed the truck at that mesa. She rode around it and eventually found the dirt road she had traveled a few days before. She also spotted her wrecked chopper.
It lay exactly where she left it, untouched except for a fresh layer of sand over her body. She also spotted the boulder behind which Ellis had fallen and died. Nox walked to the boulder. Ellis’ blood was long gone, blown away by the wind. She looked past it, along the side of the road.
Ellis’ grave was there, but its shape was different than how Nox left it.
Nox frowned. She stu
mbled forward. A look of horror filled her face. Someone found Ellis’ grave and dug it up.
Nox jumped into the shallow grave. Her bare hands furiously pushed away the accumulated sand and her breath grew ragged with the effort. Despite that, she continued on, digging several feet before finally giving up.
Ellis’ body was gone.
Nox got out of the hole and brushed the sand from her clothes. For several long seconds she stared down. A sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.
“Natalie.”
The words escaped her mouth as a silent whisper. If Octi Corp. found Ellis’ body and identified it, they must surely know about his daughter.
Nox ran to her chopper and, with great effort, lifted it out of the freshly accumulated sand and onto the rear of the truck. She tied the motorcycle down hastily before running to the truck’s cabin.
Within seconds the truck’s engine roared to life and the rear tires skidded in place before gaining traction. Dust and sand flew in all directions as she pulled away.
She rode for an hour straight without once easing on the accelerator. After a while the engine whined in protest. It was not used to such constant strain and would not be able to take it much longer.
Nox didn’t care.
By the second hour she was closing in on Octi Desertlands Base 6. There was no way she could enter the base with this stolen vehicle, nor did Nox try. She found a hill to the southeast of the base that was sufficiently high enough to hide the truck from any guards’ eyes.
Nox made the rest of the trek by foot.
She retraced her steps from days before and found the entry point she cut in the electrified fence. The metal rods secured to the ground were still in place. In all this time, no one noticed or cared to find out how their intruder from days past entered the base.
Nox pushed the cut wire aside and crawled into the base’s perimeter. She hugged the warehouse wall and listened for any sounds.
