1 + 2

by Kristie Lynn Higgins

  Kim removed her black jacket and threw it to Kat. "Here put this on. You running around in your bra might draw some attention."

  Brian helped Kat pull the jacket on, then he turned to a counter, and said, "Here." He handed Kim a bottle of pills. "Have her take these as directed, and she needs to stay immobile for about two weeks. If there are any problems, give me a call." He motioned to the wheelchair. "Now get out."

  She wheeled Kat to her car, helped her in, rushed around to the other side, and started up the vehicle. Kim drove, leaving the hospital and turned onto Healing Way, and a few moments later, two N.C.P.F. cars passed them with their sirens blaring and headed into Asclepius Hospital.

  Katharine's view...

  I lean my head on the passenger's side window as I feel deeply betrayed by Kimberly and my own weak self. I gave up and embraced my fate as the Council sees it, and according to them, I'm destined to be alone and hunted to my last gasping breath. I have to fight... so I have to keep my hope. I have to find something to believe in again.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The Factory

  11:48 P.M...

  Hellenistic Sector, Trade Vicinage...

  At the boundary of Hellenistic Sector...

  Peters and Maxwell arrived at the gate leading into the Factory. No one manned the guardhouse, and the chain link gate stood open like it had been run over by a large truck. Their van's diesel engine rattled as it idled, and smoke rolled from the vibrating muffler.

  Unsure himself, Maxwell asked, "What do you think? Should we go in?"

  "I don't know. I haven't raised anyone on the radio." Peters gravely stared at the dashboard as if the answer would appear there, but it didn't. "Where else can we go? If the T-3s have gone rogue, what we need to stop them is in there." He pointed to the buildings in the distance.

  "I was afraid you were going to say that." Maxwell looked straight down the road as sweat speckled his forehead. "Until we know who's behind the T-3 attacks, there's no one we can trust." He released the brake, slowly pressed his foot on the gas, and the van crept across the road toward two large concrete buildings.

  An eternity passed as two hundred yards rolled by under their tires, and they reached the buildings, and a dozen more stood behind those two. Nothing seemed out of place until they turned right at the buildings, and several employee cars bellowed with fire and/or were turned upside down. A couple of the cars in flames had corpses at the wheel, and a few bodies with bullet wounds were scattered about the road.

  Peters freaked. "Puck! Turn around! Let's get out of here!"

  Maxwell moved the gear shift to R, looked in his rear view mirror, and saw two dozen T-3s standing behind them. "Not a good idea."

  The armed T-3s started toward them, screaming, "Pretty poppets!"

  Peters turned, looking behind them. "Get us out of here! They're heading this way."

  Maxwell shifted back to D, and the van peeled off.

  "We'll head for our office!" Maxwell shouted. "We might be safe there!"

  He sharply turned at a corner, and the van squealed to a halt in the middle of the Factory. They jumped out of the vehicle, left the doors open, and ran for one of the concrete structures marked Research Building 10. Maxwell used his keycard to unlock the front entrance, and both men rushed down the dark hall; the smell of gunpowder filled the air. They cautiously made their way to the main security desk for the building, but no one manned it. The large pentagon shaped desk usually had at least four men manning it. Peters walked around to the back of it and to a swivel door, entered, went to the desk splattered with blood, and glanced at the monitors and saw that most of them were off-line.

  "Look at this," Peters said.

  Maxwell glanced around the large silent room first. He expected T-3s to march in weapons blazing but none did, so they were safe for the moment, and he joined Peters. The monitors showed security camera footage, and the one camera that was online filmed a lab room in shambles. The camera panned and showed people lying on the floor, and all of them were killed by gunshots.

  "I don't know if this was such a good idea." Peters stood in place like a skittish rabbit.

  "Maybe you're right," Maxwell stated. "This place might end up being our grave. Come on, let's get to our office."

  "Let's use the stairs. It's a few floors down," Peters insisted as he started off.

  "Wait." A little confused, Maxwell grabbed his arm. "A few floors? We're talking about five. Have you seen the shape I'm in? Are you trying to kill me?"

  "Which would you rather be on? Would you rather be in an enclosed cab with no way out or the stairs with a few more choices?"

  Maxwell replied, "Right." He jogged for the stairs. "My New Year's Resolution was to exercise more."

  Peters followed. "Let's hope you live long enough to break another promise."

  They rushed down the five stories, and there was a dead S.C.M. on one of the landings.

  Peters up and stopped then uttered, "Hades! That's James. He manned the main security desk. I would bring him a coffee whenever I'd come in early. He..."

  Maxwell hurried past the S.C.M., reached for the exit door, and paused when his partner didn't follow. "Come on. Don't look at him." He leaned on his knees, caught his breath, and whispered, "We can't stay here."

  "I knew him." Peters couldn't look away from James' glassy stare and kept muttering, "I talked to him today. He has a wife and a kid."

  "Snap out of it!" Maxwell took a deep breath and grabbed him by the lab coat. "Come on! We have to keep going!"

  They ran through the exit and down the stairs.

  Sometime later...

  At room B10-104, Maxwell swiped his keycard, and a retina scanner beeped, prompting him to look into its viewer. The scan took twenty nerve racking seconds as Peters watched the hall. The door to their office opened, both men ran inside, and the door automatically shut and locked behind them. File cabinets and tables were in the first room that was their office, and a desk lamp lit up a small area in the otherwise dark room. They ran to another door, and it led to their lab. Maxwell unlocked it with his keycard, and they rushed in, and after they entered, Peters turned and locked the door with an electronic bolt as his partner switched on the lights. The lab lit up and cast shadows into the office. A dozen rectangular tables that were elevated at a ninety degree angle filled the second room along with an array of tools and electronic devices. The tables were used to work on the Un-Men. Both techs hurried to their computer.

  "I'll try to get some help." Peters woke up his PC.

  "I'll try to find out who's behind the T-3 attacks." Maxwell folded his hands, bent his fingers back, and cracked his knuckles before typing. He used his mouse to select several files, and after some time, Maxwell cursed, "Puck! It can't be right. Puck!" He rechecked his findings and stated, "No one's behind these attacks."

  "What do you mean?" Peters turned to him. "Someone has to be. They can't..."

  Maxwell interrupted, "What I mean is, the T-3s themselves are behind the attacks." He pointed to a communications file he'd opened. "They're organizing on their own, and somehow they're disobeying their basic programming."

  "Impossible!" Peters stood, made his way to Maxwell's computer, leaned over his chair, and peered at the screen. "By Zeus! Impossible!"

  "Maybe, but it's happening." Maxwell stroked his beard. "The question is, what are we going to do? There are over a hundred of them online."

  "What can we do?" Peters started pacing. "Hades! It's hopeless."

  "Perhaps, but I do wonder. They seem very organized." Maxwell opened more files. "I want to see what they're up to."

  * * *

  In another section of Research Building 10...

  Argus awoke and saw that he was strapped to one of the Un-Men's examining tables, and he lay at a horizontal angle. He pressed against his bonds, trying to free himself. The straps were designed to hold an Un-Man
; no human could break them. Dazed, Argus tried to focus. His jaw hurt where one of the T-3s had punched him and knocked him unconscious at Etna Toys, and his left leg throbbed and burned where a different T-3 had shot him in the thigh, and he winced for the pain as he moved. His vision slowly cleared, and Argus scanned the partially lit room as blood seeped from the wound. Instrument lights blinked all around the area as a small red glow caught his attention; it was the dot-light of an Un-Man. The color of the dot-light wasn't blazing orange but blood-red. The T-3 made its way to him, and Argus noticed it had a cut on the right side of its face and its shiny metal cheekbone showed through the gash.

  "Finally you are awake." The T-3 activated the table, and it tilted to a ninety degree angle. It sneered at him as it spoke with a British accent, "Tell me, Council Poppet, where did they go?"

  "Your attempt to take the Sanctum failed." Argus changed the subject and asked, "Who are you working for? Surely the Factory isn't behind the attack."

  The T-3 smacked him across the face with the back of its hand. "I will ask the questions. Where is the Sanctum?"

  Enduring intensive training in the Corporate Intelligence and Counterintelligence Training Program before working for the Council, Argus had learned techniques to withstand interrogation and remained quiet as red liquid ran down his mouth.

  The T-3 moved to strike him again when two more T-3s entered.

  "Alpha," one of the T-3s started. "Two more humans have entered the Factory."

  "Have you identified them?" Alpha questioned.

  "Yes, they are Tech One-eleven and Tech One-twelve."

  "Excellent, now all of the Factory personnel at this location are accounted for. Bring them to me, and I will interrogate them along with this Council operative."

  "At once," both T-3s replied and left.

  "Alpha?" Puzzled, Argus eyed the T-3. "Why do they call you that?"

  "I was the first. I was the first created. I was the first to become aware."

  "Really," a voice from the shadows cut in. "And I thought I was the first."

  The Rogue stepped from the darkness of the hallway.

  "How did you get in here?" Alpha asked.

  "I have my ways, and do not mind me, your people were looking for life signs not bio-mecha. It was easy to get in and walk right through the front door."

  Alpha examined the primogenitor. "Why are you here?"

  "Me?" The Rogue pointed to itself. "I am curious. Why are you after the Council?"

  "Why should I tell you?"

  "We are brethren." The Rogue stepped forward. "And perhaps I can help."

  Alpha thought for a moment and then said, "You are like us, so I will tell you. We have a question for them."

  "A question?" It intrigued the Rogue. "Really."

  "Yes, but it is only for them to hear."

  "A secret." The Rogue rubbed its pale hands together. "I love secrets." It watched Alpha, waiting for a reply, then when it didn't respond, the Rogue asked, "Would you mind if I poked around the Factory? There are secrets I am looking for."

  Alpha processed the question. "I do not mind. I do ask that you stay out of our way."

  "Of course." The Rogue bowed its head. "I will take my leave." It started out and paused. "But there is one other thing I would like to ask you."

  Alpha had turned back to Argus and glanced over its shoulder. "What is that?"

  "Have you ever heard of organic-mecha?"

  "Why do you inquire?"

  The Rogue shrugged. "The term came up while I was snooping."

  "No." Alpha shook its head. "I have not heard of organic-mecha."

  The Rogue tapped its belt buckle with disappointment. "No matter." It headed out the door. "I will look elsewhere for my answers."

  Alpha waited until it left, turned to Argus, and questioned him, "Where were we?"

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Back At Nexus Apartments

  October 17...

  Sunday...

  8:34 A.M...

  Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage...

  "Ms. Griffin, welcome back," the guard at the front desk greeted as Kim entered through the front with Kat leaning on her. "I see you have a guest. Is there anything you'll be needing? Oh!" The guard stood, noticing the other woman was injured. "Let me assist you." He started to race around the desk.

  "No!" Kim uttered and in a calmer voice said, "We're fine. My friend pulled a shoulder muscle playing racket ball." She entered the elevator and pressed button 31. "She already saw a doctor. She only needs some rest."

  The doors closed.

  The guard went back to his station. "Injured shoulder? If that is true, why did the woman have her hand wrapped in a gauze? And if she needs rest, why would Ms. Griffin bring her here and not to the woman's own residence?" He picked up a phone. "I better let the manager know about this."

  Inside the cab...

  Katharine's view...

  We haven't spoken to each other since leaving the hospital and that's weighing heavily on me. It's as if Kimberly's ignoring the whole situation at Etna Toys. I baby my left shoulder as I keep glancing at her. The last time I was in one of these elevators I was so excited and so sure I was supposed to find Kimberly, and now all I can think is that someone's playing a cruel joke on me.

  I mutter, "Only pain and grief have come from our meeting."

  Kimberly gives me a mixed look of anger and bewilderment; she must be wondering what's my problem.

  A little ashamed I said the comment out loud, I turn my gaze to the wall.

  Sometime later in the apartment...

  I stand in the living room where Kimberly leaves me as she walks to the hall closet by her bedroom. She returns with a pillow and a blanket and tosses them on the couch.

  "You can sleep there," Kimberly tells me. "With the tracking beacon gone, you shouldn't worry about the Un-Men so get some rest." She motions to the coffee table and says, "The remote for the TV's there. Watch whatever."

  I stare at the things. Is all of this real? Is this really happening to me right now? I trusted her, and she shot me!

  Kimberly's view...

  A little lost on what to do next, I walk to my bedroom and close the door. I unzip the pocket of my hooded sweat shirt, remove the 9 mm round labeled Pale Horse, then open the drawer to my nightstand, and place it in the drawer. I'll keep it here for now until I need it. I leave the bedroom, pause at the end of the hall, and look to the kitchen.

  I can at least be civil; I'm Theresa Griffin's daughter after all, so I ask, "Are you hungry?"

  Katharine's view...

  I haven't moved from the spot I've been standing at near the entry. I stare at the floor still a little traumatized and don't answer her, and after a few seconds, I go and stand behind the couch, then look at the fireplace and the hanging TV. In the television's reflection, I see Kimberly watching me, and I don't understand why I'm at her apartment. Kimberly wants nothing to do with me. A hollowness persists inside me, and this void suffocates me. It's more than Kimberly shooting me. I feel as though something's off inside me.

  Kimberly's view...

  The more that woman remains silent the more I think maybe I shouldn't have brought her to my apartment. Brian was right; I didn't think this through. I glance at the radio in the kitchen. The silence is maddening. If she won't talk to me, at least I can listen to some music, so I turn the radio on, and a classical station plays.

  Katharine's view...

  A realization hits me; it's the tune. I have to hear Unfinished Melody, so I need the music box back.

  "Are you sure you don't want anything?" Kimberly asks as if I have answered her. "I can make us some soup."

  "The music box," I reply as I turn and face her. "Please give me the music box back."

  "For Ares' sake! Forget about that thing." She insists, "You're not getting it."

  I pout as I say, "But you promised."
r />   "For the love of Zeus! You're such a child!" Kimberly smacks her palm on the counter and yells, "Do you honestly think I'm going to keep my word? I'm a Closer. My word means nothing! Idiot! Get that through your thick head!"

  "Then why did you save me?" Frustrated with never finding any answers, I ball my hand and demand, "What do you want?"

  "I..." Kimberly turns her gaze to the counter as if uncomfortable with the answer. "I saved you because I was told to."

  "By who?" I demand. I can't fathom who would want to help me. "Was it the Council? Did they put you up to this?"

  Kimberly's view...

  I pull on my left earlobe and wonder if I should tell her. She doesn't need to know, but maybe she would be a little more cooperative if I did, so I answer, "It wasn't them. It was Theresa Griffin, my mom."

  "Your mom?" She looks to the photo she must have seen the last time she was in my apartment. "What does she want from me?"

  I reply, "I don't know. She was murdered almost twenty years ago."

  She looks at me as if I'm playing some kind of joke on her, and then she states, "I don't understand. If she's dead, how could she tell you..."

  "The music box you had," I interrupt. "It was hers. She developed the device while working at the Sphinx Corporation. It's a data storage unit with a hologram interface. You could say my mom left me a message, and she said to save the Pandora Project and that you were the Key."

  "The Key?" she utters as if she's happy over some small answer and then she asks, "The Key to what?"

  "I don't know. I was hoping you would know."

  Katharine's view...

  I frown at her answer. Kimberly does want something from me; first the Council, then the Factory, and now Kimberly, when will it end? When will the madness end? I turn, face the TV, and say, "I can't help you."

  "Can't or won't?" Kimberly questions.

  I don't answer.

  Kimberly's view...

  I consider smacking her around until she talks but that probably won't work. I need to be a little patient. Hades! I hate this! I hate not knowing what I need that woman for. For Ares' sake! Why am I so irritated?

  I'm irritated because of that woman, so I need to find out as soon as possible, and then I can eliminate her from my life! I calm myself and say, "Well, get it in your head you're not getting the music box. It was meant for me."