by Alan Janney
At the very back we reached my unit. Natalie North bought this place for me about a year ago. I hadn’t visited since last summer. I release the lock and raised the door, which rolled loudly into the ceiling. The hideout was undisturbed. It contained a bed, a desk, lockers of supplies, a refrigerator, a television and other necessities.
Carter eyed me with respect. “Look at you, hero. Boy got secrets.”
“Everyone in.”
Carter hopped to the bed and collapsed. Russia unsuccessfully tried the lamp, but found a functional battery-powered lantern. I rolled the door down.
I spoke into my mouthpiece, “Okay, Samantha. Time to come home. Ready for directions?”
“No,” she panted. Her breaths came in blasts, distorting the sound. “I’m too far. Too tired. Completely gassed.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m not…not sure yet.”
“PuckDaddy has a plan!”
“Go ahead, Puck. I’m all ears.”
“Keep going east. You’re near the boundary. I’ll alert the military barricade. Maybe someone there will be manning machine guns.”
“Sounds good,” she puffed. “On the way.”
I sat on the chair, my whole body on fire, listening helplessly. Run Samantha. Run faster.
“That’s not the best part. Oh man, PuckDaddy is a genius!” he chortled.
“What’s the best part?”
“Your ride is almost there.”
“My ride?!”
Through her microphone we heard the pop of weapons. One machine gun. Maybe two.
“Barricade dead ahead! They’re shooting at me!”
“I told them not to shoot the hot girl!”
“Tell them AGAIN!”
I closed my eyes and prayed. Get out of there. Dear God, get her out of there. Russia and Carter were also silent, listening to the same drama. I wish it was me, not her.
“Okay, I’m past the barricade. They’re still coming. What kind of ride am I looking for?” Samantha wheezed.
“Richard Jackson’s squad car.”
“Richard??”
“My dad??” I yelped. Nothing would ever make sense again.
“Yeah, he’s been trying to help you guys for days. I alerted him an hour ago, concerning your status. He’s been circumventing the southern boundary.”
“There he is! I see him!”
“Hah!” I cried aloud in the confines of our small storage unit. “Good old Pops!”
We heard the squeal of tires. The sound from her mic changed as she got inside and the door slammed. Still panting, she told Richard he was the best looking man she’d ever seen. She might have kissed him, based on the audio cues. I rolled my eyes.
“Okay,” she reported. “We’re safe. Heading out of the danger zone at seventy miles per hour.”
I was so happy tears leaked down my face.
“Ah ha,” Russia said, his voice an expressionless rumble. He stood up with fistfuls of granola bars and bags of trail mix. “We are saved.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Saturday, February 10. 2019
Carter’s leg looked dead. Like it’d been dead for days, it was so purple and green. Martin shattered it with his stupid staff. He wrapped his thigh in a sheet and compressed it with his belt and a pillowcase tie-down.
“I don’t heal as fast as some,” he grumbled. He was sweating from the pain. “Won’t walk for a few days.”
Unlike Carter, I was a quick healer. But still, my wounds were gruesome. The neck wounds went deep, puncturing the shoulder and penetrating into my chest and narrowly missing heart and lungs. The rib slashes weren’t as deep, more like long vivid canals of exposed muscle and bone. I poured disinfectant all over them.
We consumed ibuprofen, though Carter said our bodies were too effective for them to work properly. Heightened metabolism burned the pills up or something weird. We ate handfuls anyway and slept.
* * *
I woke up at five in the evening, twelve hours later. My body screamed as new flesh and scar tissue strained and broke. I drank a bottle of water and ate two bags of dried fruit. Our supplies would last less than three days.
Russia was gone. He left a note on my phone.
>> going home
>> no longer fun
>> i will not forget my debt, outlaw
He’d never been my friend, not really. But first Shadow and now Russia. We were losing allies fast.
Against an enemy we couldn’t beat.
Still no message from Katie. I ground my teeth in anger and fear. Cold sick fear. Something had gone wrong.
Puck, any news from Katie?
>> no
>> sorry homie. that sucks
What about from Isaac? Talk to him?
>> i messaged him as soon as his boat returned
>> said he’d call puck after a meeting
>> should be soon
I beat the phone against my head and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Listening to Carter’s snores. He had a fever. He’d anticipated an infection, but said not to worry. Wouldn’t be lethal.
Lee texted me. I missed Lee. He was remotely piloting drones for the Navy. They have way more drones than pilots, bro! He was now a Navy Civilian Serviceman, whatever that was. He was a genius. The Navy knew it, and so they found a way to sneak him into their corp of engineers. His drone had been using recon cameras and night vision to track Carter, Russia and I during the helicopter escape, but we’d vanished out of view behind a tower. So dude really, he texted. Where’d you go??!
I’ll show you when this is over.
I waited still.
Waited some more. Got up and started pacing, unlocking stiff joints.
On a whim, I texted Natalie North.
Natalie, do you still use this number?
Her reply came instantaneously. >> YES!!!
>> OUTLAW!!!
>> I’m immensely relieved to hear from you! =) =)
Guess where I am?
>> I give up.
At the hideout you built for me. The storage unit.
>> Really??!
>> Awww, that’s so great. I’m useful!
It saved our lives today.
>> I have value! Hooray! Self-actualization!
>> I’m very glad I could help.
>> I should be rewarded with kisses. Hundreds of kisses.
Buuuuut…
>> I know, I know. I have a boyfriend or whatever.
And I have a girlfriend. Whom I love.
>> sigh I know. And she’s a knockout.
>> She’s got Hollywood legs. I’m envious.
>> Fine. No kisses. =(
I wore the mask you made. Wore it today.
>> I saw! There’s a couple videos on the news.
>> You’re jumping rooftops. So dashing!
>> The video is dark and jumpy, but…
>> It looks like you were bleeding heavily??
I was. But no longer.
>> The whole planet is FREAKING out.
>> I’ll tell them you’re still alive.
>> What happened??
>> News report said another helicopter crashed?
Long story.
Have you communicated with Isaac recently?
>> He texted that he returned, but that’s it.
>> His world is upside down now.
>> I miss him.
And then Puck called me.
I felt the incoming signal before the phone buzzed. Dreadful, brutal premonition. I’d been anticipating this call for hours. Days. Forever. I already knew what he’d say. Between the first and second vibration, my mind processed the heartbreak I knew waited. I shouldn’t have left her. It was my fault. I’d abandoned her, exposed her. My soul threatened to hemorrhage.
My thumb trembled. Pressed Answer.
I didn’t speak. But he heard me breathing.
“Chase,” Puck said.
I made a noise. A
miserable sound.
“Chase. I have…I have really bad news.”
“Just tell me.”
“Captain FBI is back. Isaac. He just called me. Pacific wasn’t at the rendezvous. The Coast Guard searched for hours but only found…he…Isaac had the FBI identify the body to be sure. It’s Cory. He’s dead.”
I closed my eyes, a motion which caused the overflow of tears. Not Cory too. Not Cory too.
What happened out there? Something terrible.
“Okay. What else?”
“Right before I called you? The Chemist phoned. He’s on the other line. Wants to talk to you.”
“Put him on.” I said the words mechanically. The Chemist. Of course the Chemist. Just hurry up. Just hurry up and tell me. I already know. Just tell me.
“You sure, bro? You sound…scary.”
“Puck. Put him on.”
“…okay. Here you go.”
The line clicked.
The Chemist spoke. I hadn’t seen the man or spoken to him in months. But his voice was carved into my ears, indelible grooves which only his timbre filled. The way a childhood nightmare could never be completely forgotten. He spoke with educated, measured syllables. He spoke like a gentlemen. He said, “Katie Lopez is alive.”
My legs gave. I fell hard.
“She is lovely, your girlfriend. A beautiful and intelligent nymph. We ate a small lunch together.”
I knew it.
Somehow I knew he had her. A gulf of sorrow swallowed me whole. I hurt all the way to my birth. He didn’t deserve to eat food with her. I folded at the waist, bending until my forehead rested on the concrete floor.
“I cannot let you speak to her, dear boy. But she asked me to pass you a message.”
I didn’t answer.
He said, “Would you like to hear it? Then you can trust she’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“She says…
This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within my breast.”
I wept. A sniffling mess.
He continued, “I knew the reference immediately. It is Juliet saying adieu to Romeo. Did you know?”
“Yes.”
“I believe Katie is telling you Good-Bye, Outlaw. And telling you not to fret, and that you’ll meet again. Perhaps in the afterlife. Such a remarkable girl.”
“What do you want?”
“Let me first tell you what I do not want. I do not want to harm Katie. Is her birth name Catalina? Or Katia? No matter. She is an angel. I want her to live a long, long time.”
“Go on.”
“I want to barter. I am willing to release the girl.”
“In exchange for me.”
“In exchange for you,” he confirmed. “You surrender tomorrow night. On top of the Wilshire Tower. I release Katie. And then I will execute you on live television.”
“I agree.”
“Don’t be hasty, Chase Jackson. The stakes cannot be higher. I do not hide your fate from you. You will die as the world watches.”
“I know. I agree.”
“Ah, young love. Never was a story of more woe. Does it matter that Katie does not want you to sacrifice for her? I know you will anyway. But her Shakespearian quote indicates she’s at peace. She wants you to live. She loves you and she’s ready to die.”
“She will not die.”
“You will surrender tomorrow night at…say, eleven? One hour before midnight?”
“Fine. You will not harm her.”
“You have my word. No suffering. Speaking of suffering, how is my old friend Carter? I thought we had him, and then he simply vanished. You assisted him, I presume.”
I hung up. The phone vibrated instantly with an incoming call.
“Dude,” Puck said. “Dude. I have no words. Whoa. I’m…I’m so sorry. I have no idea how he got his hands on her.”
“Not your fault.”
“You won’t actually…let yourself be executed. Right?”
It took me a second to recognize what was abnormal about this phone call. The absence of typing. Puck wasn’t working his keyboard. Only talking. I said, “I don’t know. But Puck. Don’t tell Samantha. Or Lee. Or anyone. Especially not Dad. Give me a chance to think. Okay?”
“Sure, Outlaw, you got it. Anything.”
“I want…I just need to…to process this. Okay?”
“Yes. Definitely. That computes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
I put the phone away.
And experienced a blast of raw loneliness. Pure existence, in all its terror and unfairness.
Not Katie. Anyone but Katie.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday, February 10. 2019
Samantha Gear
Richard and I sat on the hood of my truck and drank beer at dusk. From our view on the rise in his neighborhood, we watched the sun set behind towers nine miles distant. Chase was still in there. Somewhere.
Beer didn’t affect me like it did Richard. Or like anyone normal. My body metabolized alcohol as soon the blood stream absorbed it. I experience a slight lessening of tension, but that was the fullest extent. I drank anyway because the benefits went beyond corporeal. Cracking open full cans and crushing empty ones and the implicit lowering of defenses tended to bond humans in unseen ways. It acted as glue. So weird. But I doubted that’s why Richard bought a six pack. He drank because his boy was missing.
His phone buzzed a lot. It grabbed his attention briefly but he didn’t answer. It was never Chase.
“Don’t you guys have software that track each other’s phone?” he asked.
“Yes. But his phone is off.”
“Right,” he sighed heavily. “I keep forgetting.”
“Puck said he’s sleeping. I’m sure he’s fine.” Chase had to be fine. Because I felt great. Like a brand new human. I’d showered for the first time in…hell, I don’t know. Clean clothes. Clean hair. Clean teeth. The only thing missing was the Outlaw.
He continued, “No word from Chase. Or Katie. Or Special Agent Anderson. Or the bald guy.” He waved a hand vaguely indicating he’d forgotten the name.
“Carter.”
“Or from Carter. Something’s wrong. I feel it.”
I finished my second can and collapsed it in my fist until it shrunk to a small warm ball of aluminum. “His wounds are significant. They’ll take several days to heal.”
He lowered his head into his beefy hands and took several deep breaths. Oops. I forgot. Parents care about their kids. He said, “Describe them for me again.”
“Richard, probably better not to dwell. Besides, I-”
“Samy. Please tell me.”
I patted him on the back. Because that’s what nice people do. At least in the movies. “Okay. But remember, I wasn’t there to see exactly what happened.”
“Where were you?”
“On some rooftop, watching the helicopter disaster. Chase played defense. Have you seen the handheld blades the Chosen use?”
“Look like Wolverine’s claws.”
“Yeah, kinda. Based on his appearance, I’d guess Chase took a slash to his neck, and one to his abdomen. Near his…left kidney. Deep cuts, judging by blood loss.”
“And those will heal?”
“Yes. Should.”
“Why do these blades penetrate?” he asked. “Bullets burrow into your skin without piercing, correct? What’s the difference?”
“Small caliber slugs don’t pierce if they hit muscle. You’re correct. Assuming our skin is hard. I think the metal is sharp enough to slice through, while a bullet relies on impact and brute force. Skin and muscle can absorb and redistribute the force, but not so with a knife blade.”
He placed a trembling hand on my knee and squeezed. “You told me once he could…command them? The Chosen? Like they couldn’t think
straight, but they’d obey him.”
“Think of it like a momma bear with her cubs. She’s in charge, but…the cubs don’t always do as they’re told. And speaking of bears, when is the last time you shaved?”
He chuckled and ran fingers over bristles along his jaw. “Been a while. No time. Over half the force is gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“To greener pastures.”
“They just left?!”
“Look around.” He indicated the neighborhood. I hadn’t noticed before. Two cars and twenty empty driveways in sight. Zero traffic. No children laughing. “Everyone is leaving. More every day. We’re too close. Cops have families too.”
I protested, “Yeah, but they’re outside the barricade.”
“The barricade is mostly abandoned. A leaky sieve. Only one out of every three stations is manned. And have you seen what those…freaks can do?”
“I have.”
“Did you see the mall footage? The two Chosen that got into the shopping center?”
“Oh god. No. What happened?”
“Everything. It’s as bad as you can imagine.”
“How many people died?”
He shrugged, an unhappy bunching of his shoulders. “Still don’t know. The two Chosen had nails like razors, and…” His voice caught. “It’ll be months before all the carnage is cleaned.”
“Carter told me once about nails like those. Happens to girls with long fingernails in their late adolescence.”
“What now? How do we fight this?”
“I’m going back downtown in a couple days. Finish what we started. My hope is still in Chase. In the Outlaw.”
“If Chase’s still alive.”.
“He’s alive. I wish you knew how special he is, Richard. I mean, you know. But I know in a different way than you do. He’s light-years ahead of the curve. So advanced. He’s the only one of us that operates out of selflessness. The rest of us are mean and suspicious and live out of survival and greed. Not him. Only Chase is strong enough to resist the disease, to think about others, to protect the innocent. Chase is the eye of the storm, and we just swirl around him. He’s alive. Which means we’ve got a chance.”
