by A J Jameson
“You’ll probably want to see this,” Shaved Head said from up front.
Marek left the rear cabin, cursing all the way. Axel considered pushing himself up from the floor. But for what, to get knocked down again? That seemed to be the current trend. No, he’d lay on the floor a while longer, where the cool steel soothed his aching body. Where he felt grounded, despite his nauseous head. Maybe he’d even go to sleep. Like Imogen. She looked so peaceful, despite the blood running down her chin. Yes, a good nap, and then they’d wake up at the club where he tracked her down and she offered him a cigarette.
“I’m sorry, Axel,” Little Eye said. Or maybe I’ll wake up at home, the carbon monoxide finally depleted. “The injuries you’ve suffered. The risky behaviors you’ve engaged in. When this is over, when we get you out of this…I promise to provide you with proper protection.”
Marek entered the rear cabin. He closed the gap in three strides and swiftly fell on top of Axel. But the hit never came. By the time Axel lowered his hands from his face, Marek had found what he was looking for—a scoped rifle released from the compartment above Axel’s head.
Marek smiled. “You’re the man, Pablo.” He exited the van.
A moment later a loud crack sounded from outside. Marek hurried back into the van and slammed the doors. “One drone down,” he said, smiling again. “Keep an eye out for the replacement.” He grabbed the overhead handle as the van rocked into motion. Then he glanced from Axel to the rifle, comparing the two. Or maybe considering giving Axel a rifle. I need to study more facial simulations.
“Eduardo, come back here and give me a hand looking through Ivan’s belongings. I think I just had an idea.”
“Phones,” Eduardo said, peering down at his.
A glitter of light shone in Marek’s hazel eyes. Then he revealed the screen of his phone for Axel to read. “Tracking chips have been fully disabled. Will remain so until all threats eliminated.” All threats eliminated… “Can you read it?” Marek asked.
Axel nodded.
“Good. Now you’re going to do everything I say, exactly how I say it, or your girlfriend or partner or whatever…” he glanced at Imogen. “Nah, you two aren’t dating. She’s too pretty and you’re too smart.” He turned his attention back to Axel. “But you do care about her life, there’s no denying it. And if you don’t listen to me, I will kill her. Ask your MI if you doubt me.”
Axel didn’t. Not because he didn’t doubt him, but because he didn’t want to know.
“So, what’s the plan, Marek?” Eduardo asked.
Marek put his phone away. “One thing about Law, he never fails to complete a mission. With the city’s clean water supply worsening enough to make local news, I’m thinking he’ll push forward with Laced Rain. And we’ll be there, waiting, when he arrives.
Chapter 22
Marek spotted a second drone flying around the farm houses that he had scouted weeks ago, during the beginning phases of Laced Rain. There were no occupants back then, and it seemed there were no occupants now, based on the drone’s proximity. I gave these farmers the benefit of the doubt, and now that’s going to bite me, too.
The drone vanished into the tree line, and then ascended through the brush to take a position high in the sky. Marek didn’t open fire. He waited, frozen like a mannequin in the same exact position for half an hour; the time it took the rest of C3U to show.
From the drone’s perspective, streaming a live feed to Hunter back at C3U, and to Yolanda, monitoring the feed from the armored SUV travelling to Laced Rain, it became apparent that the mission was compromised. At the tree line near the river stood a woman. Enhancing the feed provided the details of her outstretched arms, her wrists cinched to the trees on either side of her. Around her neck rested a noose.
“Target one in sight,” Yolanda transmitted. “Imogen Ayton. Unarmed, and restrained.”
“Very good,” Law said.
The SUV, carrying three barrels of highly concentrated pollutants, pulled off the dirt road and into the clearing, toward an enemy apparently dished-up on a silver platter. Marek came into view shortly after. He had been perched on a fallen tree that acted as a bridge to cross the river. His means of transportation remained unseen. (The medical van unlikely, since the rest of Bravo team would be close-by, and Marek wouldn’t risk them…unless they were hiding somewhere in the surrounding trees…and if they were, Sadie would surely scoop them up.)
Victoria parked the SUV twenty yards away from the tied prisoner.
“Nothing of the original plan changes,” Law said. “Hunter, anything suspicious?”
“Negative, sir.”
If the confrontation were aired on national television via the drone’s feed, the situation would strongly resemble a high-stakes trade for valuable personnel. Nobody would understand that the cinched woman held absolutely no influence over the two men approaching each other. In fact, a part of each of the men wanted nothing more than to see her die.
Law, dressed in a hazmat suit with a gasmask tied to his belt, slowly traversed the unkept grass to Marek’s position. Tension revealed itself in a staring contest between the two men, neither wanting to be the first to break eye contact. Marek brushed his palms over his thighs. Law ran a hand through his hair.
“You look surprised to see me,” Law said. “Yet here you are, at the one place you knew you’d find me.”
“I have a proposal to end this…feud, before we take it too far,” Marek said.
Huddled in their respective vehicles and listening to words transmitted through the wireless microphones attached to their leaders, each side reported poor reception.
“Tell him to move closer,” Zyta said.
“We’re not picking up his words clearly enough,” Victoria reported. “Move up some.”
Law did, as well as Marek. The drone overhead responded too, shortening the length between itself and them. Marek watched it descend, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. No weapon was clear on his person, and he reported back to Zyta that he didn’t suspect Law of carrying one, either.
“The cervical charges have been disabled,” Marek said, unsure if Yolanda had disclosed the information with those outside of Bravo.
Law smiled, and something in it provoked Zyta. “Make him come closer,” she said.
“They were never enabled, Marek.”
Marek turned his head, a hand cuffed around his ear.
Law understood the gesture and moved forward, repeating himself. In C3U’s vehicle, Hunter alerted the team of the object in Marek’s ear; a device bigger than their standard-issued METs. “He’s helping them,” Victoria concluded.
“Why on earth would I implant explosive devices in the necks of my operatives?” Law asked.
It took Marek a moment to answer. When he did, his words were choppy, as if he were fighting to keep reigned his train of thought. “We have trackers. In our necks. I remember them. When we were kids.”
“Only trackers,” Law said, smiling.
Dissimulation, Marek thought, spotting the change in Law’s enamel. His teeth were too bright, too white. And not to mention when’s the last time Law smiled?
“You forgot to cough, Ivan,” Marek said.
The smile faded. Law opened his mouth, then closed it. The rear doors of the armored SUV swung open and three bodies poured out. Two members of Charlie squad, each donning a submachine gun, and Law. The real Law, the weight of failed missions and old age working together to sag his flesh and dim his spirit.
So, where’s Sadie? Marek drifted his scope off target to scan the surrounding trees, but only for a few seconds.
“Surprised it took so long,” Law said.
“Zyta was always better than me at detecting imposters.”
Law chuckled, coughed twice, then continued with the business at hand. “What’s your proposal?”
Marek took a step toward Imogen. Both submachine guns raised in his direction. So did Law’s hand, and then it dropped, along with the gun
s. “Non-lethal, I assure you,” he said.
Marek positioned himself behind Imogen. He bent over and picked up the rope’s extra slack. Working hand over elbow, he pulled on the rope until it stiffened under Imogen’s neck. “I’m going to give you what you want…” he trailed off, his voice choking up.
“Get your shit together,” Zyta ordered.
“I’m going to terminate this enemy as a showing of my unwavering loyalty,” Marek finished. Then he fell to his knees, bawling.
“Dammit,” Zyta said, and then left the mobile medical van. She heard her brother calling for her to turn around, but so far this plan was going to hell, and they needed to know the truth about their parents.
Zyta saw a shift in the air as she hopped on the tree trunk to cross the river. The drone, thirty feet high a moment ago, was quickly descending upon her. She hastened her pace.
“He’s killed past operatives,” she screamed, drawing Charlie squad’s attention. “He’s killed our parents, operatives for C3U.” All eyes were on her, and so were the submachine guns. “He—”
“He had no choice.” It was Victoria. She, unlike the others, was outfitted in C3U’s standard garb. Navy-blue coveralls, her hair pulled up in a tight bun, and a headset. She hadn’t planned on exiting the SUV. “I was one room over when they injected him with a chronic, life-long virus. They did it as punishment for falling in love.”
“What?” Zyta said.
Law cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.
“What do you mean they injected him? Who?”
“Edison Able and Lori Hill. They injected…” Law trailed off, itching his throat.
For a time, the only sounds were those of the hovering drone and the running river. Eventually Law cleared his throat. “His name was Peter, and they injected him with the same virus. They…they separated us. Put us through a rehabilitation program. Thought I could be cured, that we both could be cured. But Peter didn’t see it that way and killed himself. Ingested 2000 milligrams of oxycodone. That’s when I killed them, and rebuilt C3U from the ground up. I rehabilitated it, Zyta.”
“But…your protocol,” she stammered. “No overnight visits, extensive background checks. How could you kill Umar after…”
“Protocol exists so we don’t repeat past wrongdoings. It was necessary.” Law waited for her response, but she had none. All she could do was stare at the small scar running horizontal on his cheek, a longer, yet similarly shaped scar etched on his left hand. He had always told Zyta and Marek that the scars were the result of a job gone awry, but he never elaborated beyond that. I killed them, and rebuilt C3U. “We do have a job that needs finishing,” Law said.
Two more members from Charlie squad exited the SUV, rolling out a 30-gallon drum of contaminants. Victoria returned to the vehicle and resumed her overwatch. Law lingered. Zyta, too. She wanted to sit down and have a lengthy conversation, covering everything from her first birthday—her authentic birthday—up until this point. She also wanted to scream, hit people, and find a hole to crawl inside.
“Two options, Marek,” Law said, glancing at the trees that held Imogen. Marek had recovered from his unreasonable breakdown and was standing in front of Imogen, apparently relinquishing his proposed deal to hang her. “Come with us, in peace, and participate in a comprehensive restoration process. Or be named public enemy of the state.”
“Wh-What?” Marek said.
Oh no, the voice modulator has stopped working, Zyta thought.
“A tell-all by C3U of how one of our most deadly squads suddenly went rogue,” Law said. The drone descended closer to Marek and hung suspended a few feet in front of him. “We have recorded footage of the erratic terrorists, seen here demanding assets in exchange for the life of an innocent bystander. Oh, and we pulled all public files on Imogen Ayton. As of now, she’s a saint.”
Marek felt his heart quickening. He wanted to scream at Zyta to run, to clear his line of sight and get herself out of harm’s way. But what would he do? Shoot Law, his father figure since his first formed memory? Shoot and injure Charlie to prevent them from dumping waste into the river? Maybe shoot the drums themselves, but then he’d be giving away his position. Just then he heard his avatar ask the question, “Will any harm come to the members of Bravo squad?”
“No,” Law said, stone faced.
His MET synchronized to Axel’s MI, Marek heard the interpretation: Dishonesty. Distress. “No,” he radioed Axel. “I don’t trust you.”
“No, I don’t trust you,” Axel said, still standing in front of Imogen.
“Very well.” Law lifted his hand and the two Charlie members wielding submachine guns lifted their weapons.
A single shot rang out from the brush north of Axel and Imogen’s position. The sound that followed was like a knife sticking a thin layer of ice. Imogen swayed from the aftershock, an unbroken stream of blood leaking from her face, down her nose, onto the soil below. The ropes cinched to either of her wrists kept her body upright.
“Nooo!” Axel yelled, his speech modulator deviating between his and Marek’s voice.
“I ordered nonlethal rounds only,” Law bellowed.
Sadie stepped out of the tree line. Her smile spoke of bloodthirst and her eyes reflected a black void. “We had a good run,” she said to Axel, “but I can’t let you—”
Her head whipped back with a force strong enough to snap her neck. And maybe it did, a loud crack echoing as her imploded skull burst in a spray of red.
Marek ejected the expended round and scoped out his next target. Ray, from Alpha squad, staring at his fallen leader in surprise. Marek filled his agape mouth with burning hot lead. Ray dropped his weapon and gripped his neck with two hands, trying desperately to levee the gushing blood. He dropped to his knees and fell backwards.
Marek ejected the rifle’s expended shell. “Do it now, Eduardo. And get Zyta the hell out of there.” He found his next target. Charlie’s squad leader, scrambling back to the armored SUV, the barrel of contaminants left sprawled in the field. Marek found the center of his chest but took his finger off the trigger as Law crossed his sights. Thick white smoke sprouted like clouds in the clearing.
“Moving in,” Eduardo radioed.
Marek stood from his prone position on the roof of the medical van. He slung his rifle around his shoulder and climbed down the vehicle’s rear ladder. By the time he stowed his weapon and hopped in the driver’s seat, Eduardo had returned with Zyta. They boarded, each without any obvious injuries. “Where’s Axel?” Marek asked.
“Go, we have to leave,” Eduardo said.
“He’s a liability,” Marek said.
Zyta threw the gear into drive. “They didn’t leave, Marek, they may be planning a counter assault. We have to go.”
Marek eased his foot on the accelerator.
Chapter 23
Smoke engulfed Axel and filled his lungs. He coughed, which in turn made him inhale more smoke. This continued until his eyes shined over with tears and he was forced to keep them closed. He crawled blindly, bumping into trees, spider webs, branches. He groveled on, crying, coughing, weakening…until the ground beneath him morphed into the cold rapids of a river.
He didn’t try to fight the current. Didn’t fight the unintentional gulps of water that cooled his esophagus but intensified the agony in his chest. He kept his eyes shut and floated along, eventually washing up on the riverbank. A sharp prick stabbed his arm. Warmth circulated his veins.
—
“Axel, can you hear me?” The voice spoke from the far end of a tunnel. “How do you feel, Axel?” It was closer now, just beyond the sphere of white light. “That’s it, easy.” Fifteen meters away. Five, and then it was on him, swallowing him whole. “Axel…”
Bright lights. A room. A woman, standing over him. Everything about her was slender. Her nose, her neck, the fingers reaching for Axel’s throat. Axel batted them away, and the woman retreated. A continuous beep beep beep echoed in the small room, its pace quickenin
g. More reaching hands, grabbing his shoulders and head. A small prick at his arm and everything faded. Everything except the woman’s words. “Axel calm down. It’s okay.” Little Eye.
—
Axel woke again in much the same way, but with less lights and less reaching hands. The slender woman remained. Her voice sounded just how he remembered. “You’re safe, Axel. I promise.”
“Little Eye?” he tried to say, but it came out as gibberish.
She didn’t mind. She stood over him, her edgy features somehow soft in the dim room. “I have a lot of explaining to do, but for now you need to regain your strength. And don’t worry, you’re not back at the Cyber Conflict Control Unit.”
“But how…where are we?” His voice was gooey, as if his mouth were full of Hazelnut butter.
“It’s okay, just relax. We’re taking care of you.”
“No.” Somewhat coherent. “Tell me where we are, Little Eye.”
She turned her head to look at something across the room. Or someone. “My MI,” Axel said, and Little Eye accepted the object from whomever it was she was looking at. She placed the MI in his ear.
“It’s programmed like your original. You have to sniff to get a response.”
Axel sniffed. Goodwill. Truthful.
Little Eye sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell you where we are.”
“Are you Little Eye?” Axel’s voice sounded thick again, but she understood well enough.
“Yes.”
Axel sniffed. Candid. Joyful.
“For now, this location is classified. But I can share with you the good news of C3U’s demise. The lid has been mostly closed on them. A few issues remain, mostly peripheral, and there’s a small group fleeing the city as we speak. But they’ll be dealt with soon enough.”
“Marek,” Axel said.
“Yes.”
He sniffed. Reliable. The continuous beeping grew louder and faster.
Little Eye eased her slender hand onto Axel’s. “It’s okay. We will get them, and when I say we, that includes you.” She waited for Axel’s heart rate to slow before continuing. “I would be honored if you gave us the chance to work together. We’d be at desks next to each other, doing what it is we have been doing for years.”
