“Hadi-” James said suddenly, looking to her with panic twisting his stomach.
“We’re looking,” Zephyr explained. “Admittedly, the details are a little lost on me. From what I’ve been told, he lost his shit, burned five city blocks, and fled. We’ve been waiting for you, hoping you might have better luck reaching out to him than a full A.E.C. manhunt.”
James remained quiet, taking things in. His arm was in a sling and he could feel the stitch and pull of bandages elsewhere on his person. The antiseptic smell he expected from a hospital or even medical center was oddly absent as were any tubes or wires that might detect heart rate or deliver oxygen. His right arm flexed absently, the muscles twitching terribly and then relaxing after a gentle breeze from above. Interesting.
“How long have I been here?” he asked.
“Three days,” Zephyr sighed. “How many languages do you speak, Falcon?”
He looked up at her, frowning. “What difference does it make?”
“Humor me,” she persisted, folding her arms beneath her breasts.
“Eight.”
She considered his answer, nodding silently, but said nothing more. Instead, she handed James his phone before walking out. The silence that lingered made his frown deepen. She had not given an order, only planted a thought. She was good. James glanced at his phone. On the back was a sticky note that said ‘Neuro likes your dog. She misses you. Karma won’t let her inside headquarters. Sorry.’
James sighed, leaning back on his pillows. It hurt to move, hurt to breathe, hurt to think. He remembered the transmitter Zephyr slapped on him and touched the back of both ears. There was nothing there. He looked at the phone again, and turned it on. It was singed on one corner and the screen was cracked, but it still worked. He had four missed calls, but no new texts. His thumb went to the circle with Hadi’s face on his contacts, hovering briefly before pulling up the text window.
ARE YOU SAFE?
It took thirty minutes for a response to come through.
R U OK??
James grinned. A surprising amount of relief turned his muscles to jelly, robbing him of all energy. He slept for a good hour before forcing himself out of bed. It didn’t take long to find clothes or an exit, though it took some creativity to find his way back to the city - and a borrowed motorcycle that Zephyr could fire him for later.
To her credit, the bike was rather exceptional. It handled well, auto-adjusting to his weight rather than hers. Several displays told him things like speed and tire pressure, battery level - yeah, one of those fancy electric things - and fuel reserve. But they also read off his heart rate, weight, outside temperature, and wind velocity.
“Nice,” he said into the helmet that had also auto-adjusted to fit him.
“Glad you approve, Agent Falcon.”
James nearly lost control of the bike. The panel that displayed his heart rate spiked, flashing bright red for a moment. Other vehicles sped by, honking at him for his erratic driving.
“If you crash my bike, you’re paying for a new one.”
“Do you get perverse joy out of invading a guy’s privacy, Agent Z?” James sighed, focusing on the road.
“You stole my bike,” Zephyr countered.
“Borrowed,” James corrected. “What’d you do, slap me with another sticker thing when I wasn’t looking?”
“The transmitter is in the helmet,” he heard Zephyr giggle.
“Of course it is,” he groaned. He sped past delivery vehicles and the lake shore knowing he was being monitored. He didn’t care. He needed to bring some closure to things, to undo the mess that he’d tangled himself in, to speak to Hadi man to man, not agent to Evolved.
“Care to share your destination, Agent Falcon?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” James snipped. He could almost feel the smile on her face. She had an unusual interest in him that he had yet to puzzle out. A problem for another time. As soon as James reached the city limits, he revved the speed and headed straight for Millennium Park. The Bean reflected tourists and locals alike, gleaming in weak sunlight.
“What day is it, Agent Z?” James asked as he parked.
“Saturday,” she answered just before he removed the helmet. He rolled his right shoulder, flexing his hand. Maneuvering a bike with one arm took skill regardless of how tech happy the thing was. James ignored the pain, walking around slowly until finding his target.
Hadi sat alone on a stone bench, looking at the Bean. He wore fashionably torn jeans - if such a thing were possible - a button down, and sneakers so white they were blinding. It was entirely unlike Hadi.
“If you’re trying to blend in, you’re not doing a very good job,” James said as he sat on the bench beside the young bartender. He sat calmly, keeping his distance so as not to spook Hadi into running or worse. There were too many people around for ‘or worse’.
“How’d you find me?” Hadi frowned. James shot him a flat stare.
“Despite what you might think of me, I do genuinely pay attention to what you say and do. Your two favorite places are the library and the Bean. Process of elimination did the rest. You’re taking a big risk being out here, Hadi.”
“I could say the same for you,” he countered. “New orders, or just visiting, Agent Kendall?” James winced. He deserved that. “How many of your new friends do you have around this time?”
James shrugged. “A few probably; one for sure. Please let us help you, Hadi.”
“Help me?” he crowed, turning slightly to face James. Rage filled his eyes, burnishing them a soft orange instead of the beautiful hazel they normally were. “Since I’ve been here, all you people want to do is kill me or arrest me. Why? What in the Hell did I do to any of you? This entire country is fucked up and I can’t even leave anymore! Not that you care…”
“Do you really think I’d be here if I didn’t care?” James threw back. He kept his voice low, watching everyone, but his temper was rising as well. ‘Yes, we fucked up; I fucked up, ok? I’m sorry. We’re human, Hadi. We make mistakes.”
“Ruining my life is a pretty big mistake, James,” Hadi said rising to his feet.
“Then let me help you f-fi - - fuck!” James cursed, feeling his arm twitch and words cleave to the roof of his mouth. He flexed his right hand again, shaking his whole arm out. He was aware of Hadi returning to the bench, and looked down when he heard the distinct rattle of pills. Hadi said nothing, holding James’ meds out for him.
“Lindy said we had to take care of Gen,” Hadi explained softly. “They were just sitting on the counter. I don’t know why I grabbed them. I doubt they have James meds at Superdouche Castle.”
“Thanks,” James mumbled, taking the bottle then frowning. “Zephyr said someone else was taking care of Gen.”
“Well they weren’t doing a good job,” Hadi snorted. “Lindy took her to my place.”
“Your place? Hadi, why the Hell would you go there?? People are looking for you you!”
“Cuz I don’t wanna wear stolen clothes, ok?” Hadi bit back. “Amir went with her, she’s not alone.”
James only sighed, swallowing two of his pills dry. He stuffed the bottle in his pocket and stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you home so you can get your stuff. I can get you a ticket out to Oregon or somewhere west. There isn’t a big A.E.C. presence in Oregon or Utah.”
Hadi looked up at him, skeptical and wary. He had right to be. James was done lying or begging though. He was done trying to walk the righteous path. There was no such thing. He walked towards the bike instead, hoping Hadi would follow. Eventually, the bartender trotted along behind him, hands in pockets, blinding shoes lighting him up like a neon globe.
“Don’t you need to take me to Superdouche Castle?” Hadi asked. James shook his head.
“I wasn’t given any orders, Hadi. I just want to help and, right now, that means getting you as far from here as I can.”
“Won’t you get fired?”
James rolled his eyes and
rounded on the poor kid behind him. “Do you want my help or don’t you? Yeah, I’ll probably be fired. I’m too old for this shit anyway. Not that it matters cuz you won’t actually believe anything I say. I get it. I messed up. Know that I care enough to get you somewhere safe, at least, so you don’t end up dead, or - or - ugh! Dammit! To Hell with it.”
James grabbed Hadi by the shirt and kissed him; hard. He let it linger just long enough then shoved away. “Get on the damn bike.”
He caught the slightest of grins on Hadi’s face as he slipped the helmet on and mounted the bike, glad when Hadi climbed on behind him.
“Interesting tactic, Agent Falcon,” he heard and glared.
“You shut up.”
“What?!” Hadi said.
“Not you!”
“Bring him in, Falcon,” Zephyr said as James kicked off and sped away from Millenium Park.
“Yeah…” James sighed, pulling the helmet off and tossing it aside. “Bite me.”
Hadi only laughed and squeezed a little harder around James’ middle.
12
Angelo Gustavo polished the barrel of the silencer on his favorite weapon with the edge of his shirt. Blood already soaked the carpet in the small apartment above the 13th Hour but that was neither here nor there for Angelo. He’d commandeered one of the tall barstools for his guest. The man sagged in his seat, head lolling to his chest. Blood ran from his temples and into the thick, salted beard growing on the man’s face. Angelo checked on him, made sure he was still breathing and all. Lonny failed to do his job, for sure, but Angelo still kinda liked the guy. He was mostly decent people with a good eye for business and a decent lack of morality. Like so many others, however, he suffered from an excess of personal attachment.
“And that’s where it got ya, Lonny-boy,” Angelo said to the unconscious man. “Now we have to kill the dimwit waitress too. Shame, that. She looks like she might be a good piece of ass to have. That’s why you kept her around, ain’t it? Usually is. That was Kendall’s downfall too. Sex is man’s greatest bane, Lonny.”
Angelo left the unconscious man be, double checking the few blinking devices that had been strategically placed around the apartment. Fourth floor, it wouldn’t take much to bring the entire building down. A nice bit of mayhem. He peeked out the front window, making a crack in the blinds. Across the street, the little apartment complex looked dead to the world, smashed between a dry-cleaner and a deli, and shrouded in thick fog that rolled in off the lake after the morning’s rain. Rain was good. Rain worked to Angelo’s advantage. He saw the shifting shadows in the alley too. PeaceKeepers. Assholes. They’d been around for the last hour. Well, he had a surprise for them too.
He walked back into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the refrigerator. Guinness. At least the kid had decent taste in beer. With a bit of time to kill, Angelo plopped himself down on the Ikea-esque couch, winced at how stiff it was, and channel surfed until finally settling on Die Hard. He kept the gun beside him, an extra clip in the leather holster he wore. This was the part of his job he liked the best: the anticipation right before the kill.
The phone at Angelo’s hip vibrated, making him glance down at it. It was time. He thumbed the alarm off and pulled out a pair of leather gloves that he kept in his back pocket. He slipped each finger into the glove, stretching it, relishing the feel of how tight it felt on his hand.
“Show time, Lonny-boy” Angelo said as he stood up. He walked over to where Lonny sagged in the barstool and snatched the iPhone off the counter in front of the other man. “Really, Lon? iPhone? Pussy.”
Very calmly, Angelo unlocked the phone, thumbing through the contacts while swaying to the score played during the action sequences of Die Hard. He mouthed some of the words, too, not hurried in the least. When he finally found the number he sought, he grinned and began reading some of the messages to get an idea of how the pyro-Evolved spoke. Once he had it down, he leaned against the counter to compose a text.
WE NEED TO LEAVE. IT ISN’T SAFE. PLEASE, BABY. I’M SORRY. I LOVE YOU. MEET ME AT THE BAR. - LONNY
“Such a sap, Lonny,” Angelo said, shaking his head. He pocketed the phone, collecting some things that caught his attention and proceeded to walk towards the bedroom with all the books and cocaine; he pocketed that too, feeling its weight in his coat. He adjusted the lapels on his coat, smoothed back his jet- black hair and counted to twenty. All things considered, the waitress wasn’t that dimwitted and probably a little more than upset at her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. At exactly twenty, Angelo stepped out through the bedroom door, raised the barrel of his gun, and fired. He ignored the little whines and sobs that preceded the high-pitched whir of the silenced bullet. It went straight through the girl’s skull. His other guest howled behind a dirty rag stuffed in his mouth, tied as the waitress had been, and sobbed. Prick.
“Patience, pumpkin,” Angelo said, leveling the barrel of his silencer at his other hostage’s head.”Your turn will come soon.”
Angelo untied the waitress and carried her limp body to the living room. Her eyes remained wide, confused, and frightened as he set her on the floor, a clean hole center mass right between the eyes. Angelo then untied Lonny, watching with sick satisfaction as the big idiot fell on top of his blond whore. He then went back to the bedroom, and hauled the Arab kid to his feet. Were they Arabic? Not that it really mattered, both were expendable just like the rest of their turban-headed relatives. Angelo dragged the kid to the back alley and stuffed him in the trunk, banging on it once to get him to shut up and stop kicking the inside of his car. He then, very calmly, walked back up to the apartment, lighting up one of the joints he’d pilfered from the room with all the books with just a snap of his fingers. So much good stuff in there. Part of him wanted more time to gather some of the stuff up but, he had places to be, people to kill. He stopped at the doorway to the apartment, taking one last drag, before flicking the burning ganja at the bodies on the ground. Lonny was beginning to stir, coughing slightly as he inhaled the pungent smoke. Angelo grinned slightly and shut the door with a grin, making sure it locked in place. He glanced at his watch, pulled his Ray-Ban sunglasses from his pocket, and practically skipped down the steps to the back alley to wait for the show to begin.
~
Hadi stretched after the ride from the Bean to the 13th Hour. While the bike was fast, he didn’t like feeling like he was about to fly off. It felt odd being back at the bar. So much had happened in such a short time. He went to the door on instinct, but James stopped him, shaking his head.
“We’re here for your brother and Lindy,” he said quietly.
“And my stuff,” Hadi added. What he would give for a hit of white powder right now. James only rolled his eyes, knowing how Hadi was, and leading the way to the back door. It was early enough, all things considered, for traffic to be calm. A few garbage trucks and taxi cabs, people going to and from local areas or running their weekend errands. Even on a Saturday, things were still a little too quiet. Many of the buildings were soot stained, some of them completely empty because of structural damage. Hadi had done that.
“Come on,” James said, peeking out of the alley. “We can’t loiter long. They are still following us.”
Hadi nodded and jogged along to catch James up. They took the stairs, silent but comfortable with each other. The tension that had built up between them was gone.
“Jesus, your whole building hittin’ the ganja today or something?” James asked. Hadi hadn’t noticed the smell until James mentioned it, but shrugged in response. The tenants above the 13th Hour were not the most upstanding citizens in the world. They weren’t the worst, by any means, but they knew how to relax. He fished his keys out of his tight pocket and unlocked the door. What he saw made his mouth drop and stomach roil.
Lonny Angram sat with Lindy’s body in his arms, blood oozing to the already stained carpet from a hole between her brows. Behind them, was the still form of a chocolate lab, her pink collar just barely visible behind Lonny
’s grieving form. The pyro-Evolved looked up when the door opened and snarled.
“Oh shit,” James breathed when he saw what Hadi saw.
“This is your fault,” Lonny growled as flames began to form along his arms and shoulders. “My Lindsay-Rae… She’s dead cuz of you!”
Hadi wanted to react, but froze. He felt panic and fear, worry. Why was this happening? Who had done this? Where was Amir??
“Hadi, move!” James cried, tugging Hadi away from the doorway as a jet of fire exploded out of the apartment. Not ten seconds later, the entire apartment blew up with an explosion so strong, both Hadi and James flew over the stair railing and down two flights of stairs, landing hard on their backs. Air rushed out of Hadi’s lungs, his body protesting loudly against what had just been done.
“Up! Get up!” Hadi heard as James pulled him to his feet with the arm not in a sling, the one that kept twitching despite the medication he’d taken at the park.
“Lindy,” Hadi grumbled as he coughed and stumbled behind James.
“You can’t help her!” James barked, shoving Hadi forward instead of dragging. They tripped down the stairs as two more explosions tore through the building. Hadi heard others screaming, crying, panicking. People moved out onto the stairwell or cried for help from above, all of them coughing or calling for loved ones.
“Amir…” Hadi continued in a daze.
“We’ll find him! Go!” James commanded. Hadi moved but didn’t register much until fresh air rushed his lungs. The weak sunlight was blinding compared to the burning building. He coughed, looking around lost.
“Agent Falcon,” someone said. Both Hadi and James turned to see the pyro with the bushy eyebrows pointing a gun at them. Hadi watched the man pull the trigger and flinched. His hands went up to his ears and knees flexed, but the bullet was not meant for him. Instead, it found purchase in James’ chest, knocking the other man to the ground in a startling bright pool of blood that soaked his shirt and spread out beneath him.
Hellfire Page 10
