CHAPTER TEN
It only took Zira and Tripp an hour to drive northeast to the small city where Trinity lived. They went around the block and past her house twice but saw no sign of activity. That could have meant any number of things, the most important being that law enforcement wasn’t there at the moment. It was as good a time as any to move in and check things out.
Just because the police weren’t there now didn’t mean they wouldn’t show up later, though. As an extra precaution, Tripp and Zira donned black ski masks to avoid being identified if something went wrong or they were caught on camera. Zira felt a bit like a bank robber in a children’s cartoon, but it was better than inadvertently alerting Ryku to the fact that she was still alive.
Tripp parked the car a few houses down from Trinity’s and left the key in the ignition. Thick clouds from the day’s earlier rain still hung in the sky and the sun had just set, plunging the world into the murky gray of twilight. They walked quickly up the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for any signs of trouble.
When they reached the door, Tripp glanced at the handle, then looked at Zira. She nodded and he twisted it. To her relief, it wasn’t locked, making their work a lot easier and faster. Tripp pushed it open and the two of them crept inside.
Zira pulled her gun out of its holster inside her jacket pocket and held it at the ready below her waist. She gestured for Tripp to follow her and moved down a hallway, knees bent as her feet flew soundlessly across the floor. Tripp was doing his best to stay quiet behind her, but his footsteps seemed to echo in the silence of the house. When she reached the end of the hall, Zira looked both ways. To the left were the kitchen and living room, both empty. To her right, a door was cracked open. She moved to it and pushed it with her toe.
A shadow darted in front of her, and she made a grab for it in the dark. Someone shrieked. Tripp flipped on the lights, and the woman Zira held by the arm tried to kick her. Zira took a step back, then knocked the woman’s feet out from under her with a well-placed sweep of her leg. The woman fell to the ground, wrenching her arm away from Zira as she fell. Tripp managed to pry a can of pepper spray out of her fingers before she could use it.
Zira kept her gun trained on the woman but didn’t flick the safety off; they just needed her to sit still and listen to what they had to say. A pair of fierce, round eyes peered up at them from a dark face. “Who are you?” she asked. She sounded more irritated than scared, like Tripp and Zira had merely inconvenienced her rather than broken into her house and threatened her.
“Trinity Jones?” Tripp asked.
She nodded. “What do you want?”
“We’re here to help you,” said Tripp. “You need to come with us.”
Trinity started to laugh, then glanced at the gun in Zira’s hand and seemed to think better of it. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d go anywhere with you.”
“Zira, put that thing away,” said Tripp. Zira nodded, held her hands up to Trinity, and put the gun back in its holster. Tripp crouched down on the balls of his feet and pulled off his mask. “Look,” he said, “I know this is hard to believe right now, but we’re the good guys. We’re sorry for breaking in. And for the gun.”
“And for the way that crazy girl attacked me?” Trinity asked indignantly.
“Yes, and that,” said Tripp. “It’s just instinct. She’s harmless—mostly.”
Zira rolled her eyes and walked to the window on the other side of the room. She peered out, but didn’t see any activity on the street.
“Please just go,” said Trinity.
Tripp shook his head. “The police could be on their way to arrest you right now.”
“For what?”
“For what you wrote about Chairman Ryku.” Trinity didn’t respond for a few moments, so Tripp got more specific. “You accused him of killing the other chairmen, and his father before that.”
“I didn’t write that.” The slight tremor in her voice was a dead giveaway.
“We know you did, and more importantly, Ryku probably knows you did, too. You’re lucky they haven’t come for you already. We can get you someplace safe, but we have to leave now.”
Outside, a car pulled onto Trinity’s road. A nearby streetlamp illuminated the markings on the side of the vehicle, and Zira turned away from the window. “They’re here.”
Tripp yanked the ski mask back down over his head and stood up. “We have to go. Are you coming, or not?”
Trinity glanced between them, nodded, and stood up. “We can go out the back.”
Zira pulled her gun out again and flicked the safety off. Trinity led them through the living area and kitchen to a small storage room with a door that opened out to the backyard. As they walked through the house, a thundering knock came from the entryway as someone pounded on the front door. “Mid Pacific police. Open up.”
Zira gestured for Trinity and Tripp to go on ahead while she brought up the rear. She didn’t even have a chance to shut the door before the beam of a flashlight hit them. “Stop right there!” a second officer called out.
Tripp and Trinity both froze. Zira brought the gun up and fired two shots. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was aiming at—the light was blinding—but it seemed to do the trick. The flashlight beam dropped and Tripp sprang into action. “Run!” he shouted and took off past the stunned officer at a full sprint across the yard.
“Shots fired! Shots fired!” the officer shouted. Zira turned just as he raised his gun. She put two rounds in his chest, or rather in the bulletproof vest covering his torso. It was enough to slow him down—at least long enough to let the three of them get around the corner of the house.
There were more officers waiting for them on the other side. Tripp flew by them with Trinity hot on his heels. Zira fired at the closest man and he went down with a bullet in his leg. She sprinted past him, ducking as a gunshot cracked behind her.
Tripp and Trinity had almost reached the car. Zira whipped around and fired in the officers’ general direction as she backpedaled, forcing them into cover. When her magazine was empty, she sprinted the last ten yards to the car.
Trinity and Tripp were already inside. “Go!” Zira said, diving into the back seat. The tires squealed as Tripp pulled away from the curb and sped down the street.
“You shot him!” Trinity said. “You just shot a cop!”
“Two cops,” said Zira. She rummaged through her backpack under the seat until she found another loaded magazine. Behind them, sirens began to wail.
“How’s it looking back there?” Tripp asked.
Zira turned around to look out the back window. The police were following, but they didn’t appear to be gaining on them. “If you speed it up, I think you can outrun them.”
“You can’t just shoot the cops,” said Trinity. “We’ll never get away.”
“Hold on, everyone,” said Tripp. He yanked the steering wheel to the right, and the car screeched around a corner. Zira’s body went careening to the other side of the seat and smashed against the door. As soon as the car’s path straightened, she put her seatbelt on.
“I never should have come with you people,” said Trinity. “This is insane. Just let me out.”
“So you can get arrested and sent to a labor camp?” said Tripp. “Or executed? No. Take off your CL. They can use it to track us.”
“But all of my files!”
“Just take it off.”
She did, and when Tripp rolled down the passenger window, she gave the device a forlorn look before casting it out onto the pavement.
“Zira, status report?”
One car was creeping up on them, but that information wasn’t likely to improve Tripp’s driving skills. “Just keep going.”
“Maybe if you would drive like a normal person, we could blend in with everyone else,” said Trinity.
“It’s a little too late for that,” Tripp replied. He glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. “How long has that guy been gaining on us?”
&
nbsp; “A few blocks,” said Zira.
“Why didn’t you say so?” The car lurched as he coaxed another ten miles per hour out of the old engine.
“I didn’t want you to have a meltdown.”
“Well I’m having one now!”
“Just watch the road before you get us all killed.”
“Maybe blending in isn’t such a bad idea. We need a busier street.”
“Take a right up here,” Trinity suggested. “Then the second left. That will put you on the highway.”
Tripp did as she had instructed. As they approached the highway, he glanced in both directions, ignored a stop sign, and pulled into traffic with another wild turn.
“Watch out!” Trinity shrieked as they were nearly slammed by a minivan. Its autopilot safety system kicked in and brought it to a stop just inches away from them.
Tripp whooped victoriously and flashed a grin that made him look like a little kid. “Gotta love modern technology.”
Zira turned back to the rear window. Their pursuer couldn’t find a clear gap in traffic. Between the near crash with the van and the emergency signal broadcast by the police car, it took a while for the autopilot systems of the surrounding vehicles to respond and make room. By that time, Tripp had zigzagged around at least a dozen cars across all three lanes on their side of the road and was now coasting smoothly in front of a public bus.
The sirens grew distant, then increased in volume again. Tripp made a sharp U-turn and got in the far-right lane going the opposite direction. The red and blue lights of two police cars flashed ahead on the other side of the road. Tripp decreased his speed to fall back next to a truck, shielding their car from the officers’ view as they passed. The sirens grew louder and sharper, then faded once more.
Zira watched the lights out the window, but the cars did not turn around. “I think we’re safe,” she said. “At least for now.”
“We’ll have to ditch the car later,” said Tripp. He gave the steering wheel a fond pat. “Shame, after all we just went through together.”
“Nice driving,” said Zira.
“Thanks.” He grinned again and looked over at Trinity in the passenger seat. “You okay?”
“Honestly, I don’t know how to answer that right now. Who are you people?”
“We’re with an organized rebel movement. We help people who need to get away from the Project. Like you.”
Trinity looked at him, then back at Zira. Her eyes brightened. “A rebellion? Really?”
Zira shrugged casually. Tripp nodded, and Trinity’s fear and anger seemed to melt away as a huge smile broke across her face. “I knew it!” she said. “I knew there was a big rebel movement out there somewhere. I tried to do a piece about it once, before they transferred me to that stupid waitressing job, but the station wouldn’t run it. Said it was nothing but a fairytale.” She laughed. “And I was right all along.”
“Yes, you were,” said Tripp. “Congratulations. It’s too bad you won’t have a chance to gloat now that you’re a fugitive and all.”
“Oh, I can wait,” Trinity replied, still smiling. “After all, it’ll be so much more fun rubbing their noses in it after I’m part of the rebellion that brings the Project down.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time Revolver arrived in the Mid Pacific Region, the reporter was long gone. Investigators had just arrived at the scene to gather evidence when his car pulled up to the house. There had been some kind of shooting when local police showed up to arrest her, resulting in the injury of two officers, one of whom required hospitalization. Trinity and two unexpected accomplices had escaped in an old pre-war vehicle that had had its navigation system completely stripped. The police had pursued them for a few miles but lost the car in traffic on the highway. They were still looking, but as the minutes and hours passed, their chances of ever finding Trinity grew slimmer.
Revolver got a full report from the police captain on the scene, then called Ryku to explain the situation. “I’d like to speak with the person in charge,” the chairman said. Revolver transferred the call to the captain’s CyberLink. He wandered away from the scene to hold the conversation in private, but Revolver could hear everything, even if no one else could. There was no yelling—the chairman almost never raised his voice—but his lecture on incompetence and disappointment seemed to have a profound effect on the captain. His posture reminded Revolver of a picture of a stray dog he’d once seen. His body was rigid, and he’d pulled his head in to his shoulders as if trying to make himself appear smaller. If he’d had a tail, Revolver was sure it would have been tucked between his legs.
The conversation ended, and the captain straightened his tie before walking back towards the house. Revolver’s CL lit up as Ryku’s call was transferred back to him. “Hello, Chairman,” he answered.
“I’ve instructed the captain to turn over every scrap of evidence they can find to you,” said Ryku. “Make sure they don’t miss anything. You are to bring whatever they find directly to me. Not to the police station, not to the analysts in unit A—only to me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. What are we looking for, specifically?”
“Anything you can find. I want to know who warned Trinity and helped her escape. We’ve gone through all the footage captured by cameras in the area, but we can’t identify them because of the masks.”
“I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Good. I’ll see you when you get back here.”
He disconnected the call and turned his attention back to the captain, who was now barking orders at his subordinates. Revolver strode up the concrete walkway and looked over the shoulder of a tall, soft-spoken woman who seemed to be the lead investigator. “Don’t miss anything,” he said.
She kept scanning the living area with the device attached to her CL and didn’t turn to look at him. “Of course not.”
He left her there and followed another investigator through the kitchen and out the back door. The man took photos of a footprint left in the dirt, still wet from the previous night’s rain. Revolver went back inside, down to the bedroom where he found a second man bagging a can of pepper spray that had been discarded on the floor. Nothing else in the room seemed to be especially significant, so Revolver took the bag and left him to his work.
In the entryway, the lead investigator dropped a cotton swab into a tube, then placed it in a bag which she’d written on in black marker. She passed it to Revolver as he walked by. DNA evidence—or at least the prospect of DNA evidence.
As he took the bag from her, he wondered briefly what his own DNA might look like, or how it compared to other people’s. The unit A researchers had studied it extensively, but Revolver had never actually seen the data himself. He’d been manufactured in a lab, designed to exact specifications that were supposed to make him superior to other people. And he was, it seemed, in all ways except for his inability to feel emotion. Was that because of his genetic makeup? Was there something missing in his DNA, perhaps some tiny piece that had been removed in order to give him an edge over ordinary people in other areas?
Chairman Leon and the others had never been able to figure out exactly why Revolver was emotionally deficient. They’d debated and argued about it for hours on end. Some said it was because they’d tampered with his genetic code too much, but to his knowledge, they never found any solid evidence to back that up. Others claimed he hadn’t been nurtured enough as an infant and had developed attachment issues as a result. The more superstitious among them speculated that he wasn’t really human because he didn’t have a soul—that a soul was something science couldn’t replicate.
It might be a combination of all those things. He doubted he would ever know for sure. It didn’t bother him, but it might be useful to have a clearer understanding of himself and other, ordinary people.
By the time the investigators finished their work, they had several bags of evidence for Revolver to take back to the compound. They’d also compiled a file of photos, notes, an
d a three-dimensional blueprint of the house, which Revolver forwarded to Ryku’s CL. “Please let us know if there’s anything else you need,” said the captain as Revolver got into his car. “We’re happy to assist the chairman however we can in this important matter.” Revolver gave him a nod and set the autopilot to take him to the airport.
The rest of his journey back to the compound was uneventful. It was late afternoon when he turned the evidence over to Ryku. The chairman wanted a full report of everything they’d found, then asked Revolver to deliver all of it to unit A for analysis. Revolver did so before heading to the cafeteria for dinner. Most of the seats were full by the time he got his tray, but he spotted Aubreigh at a small table in the corner alone. Knowing that anyone else he might choose to sit by would be uncomfortable in his presence, he went to sit with her.
She was looking at some charts on her CL and didn’t see him until he set his tray on the table across from her. “Oh—Revolver. You startled me.”
He gave the socially appropriate response. “Sorry.”
“Where have you been? I didn’t see you here last night.”
“Ryku had an assignment for me. I had to go to the Mid Pacific Region.”
Aubreigh smiled. “You finally got to leave the compound. How was it?”
“It was informative.”
“Did you like it?”
“It was beneficial to see and experience the outside world first-hand.”
“So…you had fun.”
“I saw what’s out there and learned a little more about the world. That is all.”
Aubreigh tilted her head to one side. “You really don’t feel anything at all? I still don’t understand how that’s possible.”
“I don’t know. The unit A researchers never had a solid explanation, and they never knew how to fix it.”
“Maybe it’s not something that needs to be fixed,” said Aubreigh. “Maybe it’s just who you are, and that’s okay. Anyway, emotions are really complicated and frustrating sometimes.”
Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2) Page 8
