Hard Wired

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  She drove around for what seemed like forever, steadily heading the direction her EB’s GPS told her to go, and only crashed twice. Well, maybe three times, but she wasn’t counting the time she actually managed to stay on the ATV when it hit a log at the bottom of a small ditch.

  It was just after midnight when Kasumi had decided to give up and take a break. She was freezing, the stupid terrain was getting rougher, and her butt really started to get sore. She found a slightly raised clearing near three intertwined trees and when she was getting off the ATV, she accidentally twisted the throttle. It jumped forward and, just as she fell off, it took a sharp turn and tipped over to roll down the hill. That’s when she had decided to make a small campfire and wait for morning to get going again.

  If it would have been any other night, she would have enjoyed her very first camping trip. But, unprepared for the frigid temperature and stuck with a definite lack of supplies to make s’mores, Kasumi slept fitfully, every hoot and howl in the darkness making her inch closer and closer to her little fire.

  The grey wash of predawn, accompanied by a chill gust spilling around the intertwined trees at her back, woke her up. Body sore and mind sluggish, she managed to right the ATV and got herself going again.

  Until the stupid thing ran out of gas.

  Luckily, as the sun was fully coming up, Cherry and two men had appeared out of nowhere to show her the way to The Ranch. Kasumi could have made it on her own, but she guessed this way was much easier — both on her butt and on her patience.

  Cherry was still looking at her, a questioning look on her face. Remembering that the woman had asked her a question, Kasumi decided to change the subject. She asked the questions she came here ask. “So, what is this place? What do you guys do here?”

  If Cherry caught on to Kasumi’s attempt to avoid answering any questions, she didn’t let on. She replied, “Whatever we want, really. We’ve got an expansive ranch, several farms, two lakes and a stream for fishing and sunning ….”

  “TV? Games?”

  “Of course! We’re not savages.” Cherry winked, adding, “Plus, we have a small movie theater in the residential level. The movies are a little out of date, but they’re still good ones.”

  “That’s a relief. Thought you guys were bored out here, away from everyone else.”

  “Nope, we do have normal lives. Which brings me to ask, what were you doing out here all by yourself? If someone hadn’t mentioned hearing your ATV early in the morning you could have gotten lost out here. Luckily Jeffery wanted to send some people out to investigate, make sure no one was hurt or lost. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t freeze to death last night.”

  Kasumi doubted The Ranch was concerned with people’s safety. More like they didn’t want people spying on them. Either way, Kasumi didn’t really need their help, and she made sure Cherry knew it by saying, “It’s not exactly rocket science building a fire. I stole some matches when I left the house and one thing you guys have out here is plenty of firewood.”

  Then she pulled out her EB and held it up. “And I wouldn’t have gotten lost, anyway. I’ve got my GPS turned on. See?”

  She showed the screen with its digital depiction of the surrounding area. What she didn’t say was that by the time Cherry showed up, she was indeed hopefully lost.

  Cherry noted that The Ranch was starred on the map. “You came out here on purpose?”

  She didn’t have an elaborate backstory, in fact she couldn’t really come up with one, so Kasumi simply said, “Yeah. I wanted to see what all the talk was about.”

  “Oh,” Cherry said in response. She didn’t look over as she carefully asked, “What talk?”

  Uh-oh. That was probably the worst answer Kasumi could have given. Secret societies probably liked being secret. It was in their name, after all. She racked her brain, ignored Cherry’s question, and instead blurted out, “You said you like it here?”

  Cherry slowed her steps again, letting the men up front get a little bit further away. “I do,” she said softly. Then, after a quiet moment she asked, “Did he send you?”

  Kasumi figured she was asking about her father, the sheriff, and she answered, “Oh, no. He has no clue I’m here. If he did, I would have had him drive me.” She made a show of rubbing her sore backside.

  Laughing gently, Cherry said conspiratorially, “We’ll get you a nice cushion inside.”

  The men up ahead unhitched a section of a wood and wire fence, letting Kasumi and Cherry through not too far from an old red and white farmhouse. They walked on for another ten minutes and finally approached the main entrance to a plain concrete building, which reminded Kasumi of a boring office or maybe even an old hospital. Cherry led her inside, through the polished sliding glass doors.

  “Come on,” Cherry said invitingly. “I’ll let Jeffery know you’re here.”

  “Who’s this Jeffery guy?” she asked, looking around at the large waiting room which looked like a hotel lobby, with chairs and tables along the walls, televisions in a few corners, and even what looked like an unattended coffee shop near the back wall. The smell of fresh-cut flowers drifted on the temperature-controlled air and a hint of either ham or bacon seemed to be coming from the left side of the lobby, where she could see a pair of metal double doors along the wall.

  “Jeffery,” Cherry said, drawing Kasumi’s attention, “is probably the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. You’ll adore him, Kasumi.”

  Cherry left Kasumi standing there as she walked off to the right and through a plain door, through which Kasumi noticed a large sitting room done in wood paneling and shelving before it closed behind her. Now that she was left alone she looked around the lobby, this time paying closer attention to the people, and not the décor. The first thing she noticed was all the smiling faces. No matter if they were playing cards around a foldable table, lounging in heavily cushioned chairs, reading books or watching television, almost every single person — close to twenty of them were in the huge lobby — had a smile or at least a soft, peaceful glow about them.

  They were all happy … Sickeningly happy, Kasumi thought.

  But someone here was a cold-blooded killer and likely using a kid for their evil purposes, whatever those were. Which was why she was here. She was going to ferret out the killer, or killers, and find out what their ultimate plans were. She would meet this Jeffery character that Cherry liked so much, find out what she could, even force the information out of him if need be. Maybe she could get away from prying eyes for a while, sneak away to, as Dent would say, gather some intel on the place. Then, she would get out and get back to Dent, and tell him everything she’d learned.

  Then Dent could come in here with a reasonable mind and a plan of action. Her work here could save the lives of many people, because when Dent did things his way, he didn’t give a crap as to who might get caught up in the violence that he dealt out.

  Easy as pie, she told herself.

  But why didn’t she believe it?

  XXXII

  It was just past noon when Dent and Bobseyn returned to the house.

  “I’ll have to fix the damned door,” Bobseyn muttered as they walked inside.

  Dent shrugged at the obviousness of the comment.

  Catching the scent of slightly burnt coffee, Bobseyn said, “I need a cup of coffee before we get into details about how we’re going to go about getting into The Ranch.”

  “If Fifth hasn’t drank it all,” he called to Bobseyn as the man walked straight for the kitchen. Dent had stopped in the living room, replaying last night’s events in his mind.

  He heard two mugs being set down on the countertop. “Guess the young miss didn’t want coffee.”

  Looking at the blood stains on the rug and wood in front of what used to be the television, Dent let the sheriff’s comment sink in. His head shot up.

  “What?”

  “I said Kasumi wasn’t in the mood for coffee this morning. Probably finished off the chicken and the last of my mil
k though ….”

  Dent was in the kitchen in ten quick steps.

  He looked at the coffee he’d left for Fifth. The pot was full. He went to the fridge, threw it open, ignoring Bobseyn’s comments to take it easy. Something was wrong. Everything was in perfect order. The milk wasn’t pushed off to one side, and plastic containers of food were left stacked perfectly, just as he’d left them last night before falling asleep on the downstairs couch.

  Dent slammed the fridge door closed. Bobseyn must have sensed something was wrong.

  “What?” the man asked.

  Turning on his heels, Dent left the kitchen and rushed upstairs. He threw open his bedroom room, found it empty. He went to Fifth’s room.

  Empty.

  He turned and almost ran into Bobseyn.

  “What’s going on, Dent? Where’s Kasumi?”

  “She’s not here.”

  “What do you mean she’s not here?” Bobseyn repeated moronically.

  Dent’s fist tensed at his side in response.

  Seeing Dent’s urge to punch something, possibly even Bobseyn himself, the sheriff took a step back for safety. “You didn’t check on her before you left?”

  “She told me to leave her alone last night. Said not to bother her.”

  “For the love of … When your kid ends up telling you that, Dent, it’s all the more reason for you to definitely go and check on her.”

  Again, Dent resisted the urge to punch Bobseyn, this time for making absolutely no sense.

  Bobseyn put a hand to his chin and mumbled to himself, “Where would …?” He pushed past Dent to look in Kasumi’s room, as if Dent could somehow miss seeing a fourteen-year-old girl sitting in there. Dent didn’t stick around for the man to make sure the girl wasn’t there.

  “No. No, no, no,” Bobseyn muttered.

  Dent was already at the stairs.

  “Dent! Wait!”

  “She’s gone to The Ranch, Bobseyn.” He took the steps two at a time.

  “We don’t know that for a fact, Dent!”

  Dent could hear the man coming down the stairs behind him.

  “Dammit! Wait!”

  Dent pulled his gun from under the couch cushion.

  “Dent!”

  A hand on his shoulder forced Dent to spin, ready to knock the man down.

  Bobseyn wisely pulled away, putting his hand in the air before him. “We need to talk this through.”

  “I’ve seen what talking gets you.”

  Eyes going from Dent’s face to gun and back again, Bobseyn said, “No. We need to talk about a plan.”

  Dent held up his gun. Plan enough for him.

  “You think you can do this on your own?” Bobseyn snapped.

  “No. But I’ll do it anyways. And you said you were going with me.”

  “I will. I am. But not like this. We need to be level-headed about this.”

  “I’m always level-headed.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Dent’s arm itched to raise the gun.

  “You want my help, Dent, then you’re going to talk. Whatever’s going on up at The Ranch, they wanted Kasumi for a reason. Which means they want her alive. Probably to get to you. She’s no good if—”

  Bobseyn suddenly shut his mouth and his eyes went wide. After a few seconds, Dent lowered the barrel of his gun from the man’s forehead.

  Bobseyn let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Look. You know you need me, and if I have any chance of getting Cherry out of there I need you.”

  Dent was almost impressed at the sheriff’s firm and steady voice.

  “So we go,” Dent said.

  “First, I’m getting a cup of coffee and you and I are going to sit down. I know how you feel, but it won’t do anybody any good if you go blazing in there.” In a show of what Dent thought of as stupidity, the sheriff put his back to Dent and walked to the kitchen.

  Dent stared after him. Two people would make an extraction easier, he had to admit. He followed the man into the kitchen. He’d give him five minutes. Then, with or without him, Dent was going to The Ranch and getting Fifth back.

  In the kitchen, Dent scraped a chair across the floor and dropped into it. Bobseyn put a mug down in front of Dent before seating himself, if a bit quieter than Dent had.

  “Who are you?” Bobseyn asked after a sip.

  The question was blunt. Good. No long-winded conversations. Quick answer: “Marion Dent.”

  The sheriff rapidly balled then opened his fist. A small grunt escaped his throat. “Who do you work for?”

  “Independent contractor. Former DUUP agent.”

  A slow nod, like the man expected the answer. “And Kasumi?”

  “I’m her guardian.”

  “And she needs guarding from?”

  “People who would stop at nothing to use her to circumvent current laws on the use of eTech.”

  “So,” Bobseyn leaned back. “She does has something to do with eTech. I knew I hit on the head. Does she have an implant?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can she do what she does? I know she forces emotions on others.”

  Dent shrugged. “She just does.”

  It took a moment for Bobseyn to understand. His eyes flashed and his jaw dropped. “But that’s … not possible.”

  Another shrug. This was getting nowhere.

  Perhaps the man sensed something in Dent and quickly asked, “What does The Ranch have to do with you? With her?”

  “They’re using eTech. I’m here to stop them.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Bobseyn took a deliberate sip of coffee. “Sorry, but I don’t believe that’s all of it, Dent.”

  “Grant Chisholme is funding The Ranch,” Dent said. “If he’s behind it, I’ll bring the place down.”

  “So this is about him?”

  “No.”

  Bobseyn stood up, began to pace the kitchen.

  Dent checked his watch. Four minutes had passed.

  “You and Kasumi,” Bobseyn said when he stopped pacing. “What is she to you? A contract?”

  “No.”

  “And yet you feel the need to protect her at all costs.”

  Shrug.

  “How does a man who … acts the way you do get attached to someone like that?”

  Shrug.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how it all ties in.”

  Dent had had enough. “Is this coming from your personal knowledge of being such an exceptional father?”

  Bobseyn rounded on him, shouting, “Don’t you dare, Dent!”

  Shrug.

  Bobseyn’s voice dropped but was as close to growl as Dent could imagine. “You have no right.”

  “And you have no right delaying me from getting Fifth back.”

  This got the sheriff to close his mouth and look away. When he finally looked back, Dent could see a slight change in the man’s posture. Shoulders slack, hands wide open at his sides, the toes on his right foot slowly moving up and down. The fight was out of him.

  “Fine.”

  That’s Dent wanted to hear. He stood.

  “One condition, though. We don’t kill unless it is absolutely necessary. Those people aren’t themselves and I won’t have you executing them because of some eTech’s control over them.”

  Shrug.

  The sheriff left the kitchen and headed into the living room.

  “Where are you going?” Dent called to him.

  “My gun safe in my office.”

  Dent decided to follow the man now that he was finally making sense.

  “Don’t get too excited, buddy,” the sheriff said over his shoulder when he saw Dent following him down the hall beneath the stairs. “I’m loading the guns with nonlethal rounds.”

  That was fine with Dent. He had a full clip and two more in the SUV.

  Bobseyn said to kill only when necessary. Well, necessary meant different things to different people.

  “Get a move on, buddy,” Dent said. Loud
ly.

  XXXIII

  Kasumi took the elevator up three floors with Cherry at her side, apparently going to speak with whoever Jeffery was. The blonde woman had left Kasumi alone in the lobby for less than five minutes, not enough time to go snooping around on her own, and when she’d returned she led Kasumi through the double doors to the right of the lobby, through the library-looking room with tall shelves stuffed with books new and old, a quick left at what looked like a dry food pantry, and into a small sitting room where the single elevator was situated between two narrow-eyed men.

  One of the men — Kasumi guessed him to be around thirtyish — held a metal clipboard and nodded in Cherry’s direction when she and Kasumi had walked into the room, and made a show of running his heavy-lidded eyes down whatever paper was clipped to the board. The other man, wide shouldered and as ugly as a wet gorilla, kept his eyes trained straight ahead.

  When the thirtyish-looking guy gave them the go-ahead nod, the two girls passed between the fleshy sentinels without a word. A quick glance to either side — not too obvious a glance, as Dent had taught her — revealed that neither man had a gun on him, or at least none that she could readily see. What she did notice, though, was the tiny earpieces they both wore in their right ears. They were black and had small blue LED pinpoint lights, indicating that they were active, and Kasumi wondered if they were some type of two-way radio or an open phone line to whoever ran security here at the compound.

  Before Cherry could push any buttons, the ugly gorilla turned and held out his hand.

  “What?” asked Kasumi. “I’m fresh out of bananas. Sorry.”

  “You can’t bring up your electronics,” said Cherry in an amused tone.

  “Fine.” Kasumi pulled her EB and phone out and slapped them into the man’s paw. “But I expect them back. Those are not chew toys.”

  The other guard turned away and stifled a laugh. Kasumi gave a bow.