by A J Jameson
Law stumbled backward, fleeing for the door. “I recommend you stay, Lawrence. I have a message you must send to your people.” The hovering face vanished and was replaced by the emblem of local law enforcement. Broadcasting was the radio transmission of a responding officer: “We have a 28 in progress, location 1809 Artifact street.”
Ivan’s head swelled to fill Yolanda’s monitor. “Give the order for your people to retreat, and I won’t kill Ivan.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Law said, his words so forceful they incited a coughing fit.
“Send me the right Axel, and I’ll return Ivan,” Little Eye said.
“I’m not going to repeat myself.”
“And neither will I. When the police arrive and locate the sniper you’ve posted in the building across the street, when they find members of your organization loitering in the area with lethal weapons, and find Ivan, a dead impersonator, inside the house of a missing person, how do you think that will pan out for you and the rest of C3U?”
“You’ll never see Axel again,” Law said.
There was silence. Yolanda always worked best in silence, and the pause in exchanged threats gave her time enough to reflect on Little Eye’s words. Give the order for your people to retreat. Little Eye was planning to disarm the communications disruptor. “Law, she’s right,” Yolanda said. “The trade isn’t worth it.” She waited for Law to make eye contact before winking.
His eyes narrowed, but he understood. Whether it be her observation or the simple fact that Yolanda had a plan, Law conceded to Little Eye’s wishes. “Fine,” he said. “Marek, it’s Law, you read?”
“He will hear. Continue the command,” Little Eye said.
“Marek, call off all squads—”
“Breach the front door and kill Little Eye,” Yolanda interjected. Ivan’s hovering face—it looks so similar to Axel’s—glared at Yolanda, then softened and addressed Law.
“Finish the command, and I’ll patch it through.”
You’re here, in our building. In our database.
“Marek, call off all squads and return to base, immediately. Authorities are inbound. I say again, retreat to base.”
“And I have your word no harm will come to Axel?” Little Eye asked.
Law snorted and left the room in disgust. “Yes,” Yolanda said, “no harm will come to Axel.” Not yet. Not until we destroy our own database and yours, and finally eradicate you.
“Thank you, Yolanda,” the hovering face said, smiling to show off Ivan’s bulky white teeth. For the second time in her life, for the second time in the past twenty minutes, Yolanda felt the impossible weight of utter defeat press inward on the walls of her mind.
After checking the rear of Axel Hoffmann’s home for alternative exits (and any assailants waiting in hiding), Marek made his way around the block to meet Eduardo. They were flagged down by Alpha squad’s computer tech.
“Yolanda sent me an encrypted message a little bit ago,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “It said the command center’s audio transmissions have been compromised, so she started broadcasting on a secure line on her cellphone and, well…”
“Spit it out, Hunter,” Marek said.
“Authorities are inbound. I tried to call it in as a false alarm, but they’re coming anyway.”
“They’re coming here?” Eduardo asked. “To Axel’s?”
“Across the street.” Hunter flinched as Marek smacked the dashboard.
“I’ll go help them pack up,” Eduardo said.
Law’s voice transmitted through the radio. “Marek, call off all squads and return to base immediately.”
“She’s making him say that,” Hunter said.
“Who? Wait, Eduardo. Stay here for now.”
“Little Eye.”
“You’re telling me that the artificial intelligence has Law under its influence?”
Hunter contemplated the question, then shrugged. “Yeah.”
Marek initiated his MET and gave the order, “All teams fall back to a secure location within a fifteen-block radius of target area and standby for further orders.” He turned off the transmitter. “Hunter, you’re our eyes and ears. We’re going in, pop the trunk.”
“That’s more like it,” Eduardo said. “Let’s get our boy back.”
“He shouldn’t have gone in there alone. Law made a bad call.” Marek almost said more but shook it off. Who was he to judge the actions of others? If there was a trail of breadcrumbs leading up to this point, it would begin with him botching one mission after another. And now I’m about to make bad call number five hundred and…no, he had to maintain confidence. You hesitate, you die.
Marek examined the contents in the trunk of the mini coupe: a variety of respirators, safety goggles, chemical resistant gloves, pest-control coveralls, and an assortment of hand guns.
“You guys should really get in there,” Hunter said. He was watching the evacuation van a few parked down the street, waiting for the members of Charlie squad to vacate the laundry room. “I’ll give you the all-clear after the cops finish their sweep.”
“All right,” Marek said. “Eduardo…” but Eduardo had already walked off. Marek turned back to the trunk. He grabbed three full-masked respirators, two silenced 9mm pistols, and a Telekinetic Voltage Amplifier. He dropped everything into an empty duffle bag and closed the trunk. Eduardo was returning with his own duffle bag in hand.
“For the locks,” he said.
Marek nodded. “Take the coupe to the end of the street. And Hunter…”
The computer expert, beads of sweat dotting his brow—he doesn’t fare well in the field, same as Yolanda—had one hand on the wheel and the other on the shifter, anxious to flee the premises.
“Be prepared to scoop us up if this thing goes south,” Marek said.
Hunter nodded and pulled off. Marek waited until he and Eduardo were at Axel’s front door to take out their breathing masks. “These will give us three hours’ worth of oxygen. I doubt we’ll need anything over forty-five minutes. We get in, get the mask on Ivan,” he flaunted the TVA, “and kill the AI.”
Eduardo nodded and prepared the automatic lock pick. In the far distance Marek heard the echo of police sirens. And then the front door gave way on its own. Marek reached for his 9mm but didn’t get a chance to arm it. Axel stood in the doorway, bleary eyed but awake.
“Ivan?” Eduardo asked.
Ivan nodded. “Little Eye called the cops. They’re almost here.”
“We know,” Marek said. “Let’s go, Hunter’s down the block waiting.”
Ivan shook his head. “She’s threatening to kill Sadie. She already cut Kyle’s life support for a short time.”
“What?”
“Come in.” Ivan stepped to the side and gestured for them to enter. “She wants to surrender.”
Looking down the street, Marek saw red and blue flashers. He bagged the 9mm in exchange for the TVA and entered Axel Hoffmann’s residence.
Chapter 17
The power at C3U cut out shortly after Kyle stopped trying to talk. He lingered on the fence of consciousness, griping with his inability to form a coherent sentence. Sadie, too, was bed ridden, half her face covered in butterfly bandages and her neck secured in a brace. She had yet to wake, and for that Zyta was thankful; she was still trying to process Kyle’s “wish.”
“I…I…I,” he had stuttered, his words slurred from nerve damage and his eyes darting from left to right, up to down.
Zyta took out a Snellen eye chart from one of the drawers. It didn’t have every letter of the alphabet, but it did have enough for Kyle to get his message through. “Blink twice when I hover my finger over the correct letter.” And he did, starting with the D. Next came an I. And, reluctant to lift her finger to the upmost and biggest letter, Zyta had guessed his wish. DIE.
He dismissed all ambiguity by repeating his earlier statement. “I…I…I.”
“You don’t mean that,” Zyta said. “You’re in
trauma, Kyle, but it will pass.” He kept his eyes closed, two tears slipping down his cheeks.
Victoria introduced a sedative into his IV drip and he drifted away. “I can ask him.”
“Ask him what?” Zyta filled a plastic cup with water from the sink.
“If he’s okay with, you know…” She nodded at Kyle.
Zyta nearly choked. “What? Him? His…?” She couldn’t find the right words. Was Victoria seriously considering killing one of her own?
“It’s his wish, Zyta. Can you blame him?” Victoria held Kyle’s cheek in one hand and caressed it as a person might do with a cracked trophy they’d recently dropped.
“He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s in shock!” Zyta went to refill her cup, but her hands trembled so badly that she ended up crushing it. “How can you say—”
“What if it were you? You can’t walk, move your arms, or say one word. What kind of life is that?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t just give up on him…we haven’t even tried…” she wanted to follow up with potential treatments. Ways to fix the problem, or at least mitigate it. But they had already taken the X-rays, CT scans, and MRIs. Imogen Ayton’s assault had severed the tissue just below the brain stem, between the C1 and C2 discs. “How would we?”
Victoria looked away as she answered. “We have lethal injections. Charlie formulated a remedy that leaves traces of drug abuse. It’ll be painless.”
“How do you know?” Zyta asked just as the room was plunged into complete darkness. Secondary power supplies throughout the facility picked up the electrical load, and the room was once again illuminated, but at half the watts.
“Give us a break, will you,” Victoria said to the ceiling.
“I’m going to check on the command center,” Zyta said, peeling off her latex gloves and dropping them into the contaminants waste bin. Victoria didn’t say anything, but Zyta could feel her heavy gaze.
The physical combat and hand-to-hand training room remained drenched in blackness with only two emergency lights to guide Zyta’s way. Voices drifted in from the command center but were quickly swallowed by the room’s wide breadth. Remnants of a conversation between Yolanda, Ray, and Law. Mostly Law. He was…anxious. It’ll be painless.
The command center was faintly lit. Two flashlights homed in on Zyta as she entered, blinding her vision. “Oh, hey Zyta,” Yolanda said, and angled her flashlight downward. Ray followed suit, pointing his light at the computer screen in front of Yolanda. It was rebooting.
“Kyle doesn’t want to be here anymore,” Zyta said. Ray whipped his flashlight back at her, then lowered it again, apologizing. “Law, we can’t euthanize him.”
Law pried his gaze away from the monitor. “That’s not my decision, Zyta. It lies with Kyle.”
Nobody said anything. They just stared at the computer screen, waiting for it to reboot so they could…what? Ivan should’ve been inside Axel’s home by now, his mission to destroy the AI and kill Imogen already completed. It’s all falling apart before your eyes, Zyta thought.
“All right,” Ray said—practically yelled. “His life is over.” He marched out of the room.
“Ray,” Zyta called. Then to the other two, “You can’t let him,” but the computer had finished booting up, Yolanda typing and Law watching. It was useless. They didn’t care.
Zyta stormed out of the room and caught up to Ray as he was about to enter the medical center. Except he didn’t slow down. Instead, he made a right…into the auxiliary room. “Ray,” she called. He ignored her. She glanced back at the medical center, unsure if she could stop Ray by herself. But Victoria wouldn’t leave Sadie’s side. She couldn’t, it was protocol.
Zyta broke into a sprint. She had almost reached the auxiliary room when the emergency lights cut out. She skidded to a halt in the pitch black. The entire floor was dead silent for only a moment, the complete lack of sound so foreign it tickled Zyta’s ears. Then an obnoxiously loud revving sound as backup generators churned to life, dousing the complex in red-tinted emergency lighting. For the first time since she was a child, Zyta tiptoed down the hall. “Ray,” she whispered. The door to the auxiliary room, barely visible in a shine of scarlet, flung open. Zyta recoiled, almost falling back on her butt.
“She cut the emergency power,” Ray said, panting. “We’re defenseless.”
“Who?” Zyta asked, steadying herself.
“Lock yourself in the medical center. The windows are bulletproof.” He ran off at a crouch.
“Where are you going?”
“Armory to get a weapon. It’s her, Banshee.” He disappeared into the darkness.
Zyta crept forward, inching her way to the auxiliary room. The thousands of tiny LED lights that once dotted the room’s control panels were nonexistent. They communicated with the perimeter cameras, the garage access doors, and…Law’s office.
The idea struck Zyta with such force that she almost bypassed Axel completely to make for the staircase. Ray was in here…Axel may not even be alive anymore. But she had to find out.
She pulled open the glass door, it’s gasket seal peeling from the metal doorframe. From somewhere overhead, near center room, its source hidden by the racks of I/O controllers, modules, and routers, spilled the dim red illumination of an emergency light. The shadows it cast stretched in every direction. When reaching Axel, it formed a pattern of red and black slashes that cut diagonally across his face. He looked still. Still as the moon or a tomb at the grave. But as she came closer she heard him. A strange throttling in his throat. His nose. Bloody and puffed up. He’s choking on his blood. The bastard punched him in the face while he lay unconscious.
Zyta reached in her pocket in search of anything that would help. She felt the ammonia tablets. Too cruel, she thought, with a subsequent thought so shocking it sent a chill down her spine. Why do I give a damn? Was it a tantrum aimed at Law for brushing her off when she asked about his missing DNA, as Marek had suggested? Or maybe Law’s inhumane suggestion that they scramble a prisoner’s brain before sending him back to his parents? Or the death toll that C3U had been inflicting on the innocent and guilty alike? Maybe the gnawing urge to live a normal life outside of C3U. Forget why, think about what. As in, what consequences would she face?
Her fingers brushed against a small bottle of hand sanitizer in her lab jacket, and then found something useful: scissors. She removed them from their casing and snipped the zip ties restraining Axel’s wrists. She felt the bulge of his hands as she did. His blood clotting from the ties.
“I’m getting you out and then handing you to my brother, then I’m gone,” she said, bending down to cradle Axel’s limp body. But even before the words left her mouth she knew it was a lie. If she took Axel to Marek, he’d bring him right back to C3U. Or just kill Axel himself. Just like Law, and why not? Law was like a father to him. To both of us. But Marek was always the favorite. She reached in her pocket for an ammonia packet. “Sorry,” she said, and flinched as it yanked Axel from his sleep like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. “I’m getting you out of here.”
A prolonged eeeeep howled outside the room. Someone had triggered the alarm. Zyta threw Axel’s arm over her shoulder and started towing him. Eventually he found his footing and began trudging along.
Eeeeeep. Blinding lights pulsated violently against the blackened atmosphere. Eeeeeep. “Come on,” Zyta said, opting for the scenic route that threaded through the physical training area. The other path would be quicker, a straight shot to the staircase, but it also exposed her to the medical center. Victoria would undoubtedly be there, and maybe even Law.
She guided Axel toward the punching bags. A slender 60lber greeted them first, followed by an average 130lbs. Farther still, falling invisible each time the pulsing lights cut out, was a fat black, 220lb bag. Zyta used it to hide herself and Axel during a wave of doubt that almost turned her around. This whole thing, your running away from home, is a child’s tantrum. And maybe it was. Except the consequences she w
ould suffer should never be put on a child.
She took a step, then retracted it. Eeeeeep. A step forward. A step back. Maybe I should turn around. Help Victoria with Sadie. Explain to Law my differences. And then he had to say something.
“Thank you for freeing me.”
Zyta examined her prisoner. He was rubbing his wrists while angling both arms up to block the glare of strobing lights. When he was unconscious in the auxiliary room, he looked young. But now, seeing him awake, crusty blood blocking his nostrils and face sleeked with sweat, Zyta saw that he was even younger. Younger than her, in fact. A minor. Can’t even buy a beer. Could he buy cigarettes? “Yeah, no problem,” she said, and in that single statement she knew there was no going back. Her consequences for leaving were different from his—his being life-threatening. I can’t have the life of a minor rest on my conscience.
“Stick close to me and be quiet,” she said, tugging Axel along from column to column. As a kid she had used them for cover when playing hide-and-tag and could travel between their ten-foot intervals blindfolded.
Zyta found a rhythm. Two eeeeeps and they darted to the next column, waited two more eeeeeps, and went again. They kept this up until they reached the briefing room. Zyta began opening the door slowly, inching her head through the crack. It doesn’t matter if they see me, long as it’s just me. And I can tell them that Law demands their presence, but no, they can’t use this door to leave. She pushed the door open and scanned the room. “Hello?” Nothing, it was empty. But better to be cautious and use the few columns in the room as a means of cover.
They had passed through the briefing room and gone down the stairs when their last obstacle, Law’s office, presented itself. He wouldn’t be in there, would he? Zyta pulled Axel to the nearest column and waited, shushing her (prisoner?) as she peered through the window shades, searching for the vaguest hint of a moving shadow. The office appeared vacant. The only sound was the beating of her heart and the reverberating ring of alarms.
Zyta approached Law’s office.
The thumb reader showed no sign of power. The doorknob—slippery in her sweaty palm—turned with ease. The door…gave way.
