The Phantom Chronicles BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

“Yes, Mikel,” came a modulated voice. “Do you have an update for me?”

  “I do,” hissed Mikel, rushing through the growing storm. “The Phantom is gone, but I have a lead.”

  “Gone.” The tone was abrupt, rebuking. Almost enough to give Mikel pause. Almost. “What happened, Mikel? You were right on her tail…”

  “I was, Master,” said Mikel. “She had help. Someone got to her first.”

  “Someone? Who?”

  Mikel’s lips curled up at the thought. His canines sharpened and stretched.

  “Ragan Hunt,” he growled. “He came in a car, helped her away. I will find them both, Master. I will not fail.”

  A short silence fell upon the line. Then the distorted voice spoke once more.

  “Agent Ragan Hunt,” it said. “Of the CID in New York.”

  “Yes,” whispered Mikel, his body tingling with an insatiable hunger. What a prize it would be to catch them both.

  “I see. And where have they gone?”

  “The Phantom was heading east,” said Mikel, “when Hunt took her in. I’m certain he’ll take her immediately to New York.”

  “He will…eventually,” said the voice. “And where are you now?”

  “Following,” said Mikel. “I have their scent. They aren’t too far ahead.”

  As he spoke, a series of lights began to bloom on the dark track. His eyes searched forwards through the gloom, taking in the form of a security checkpoint. He slowed, drawing up behind a couple of cars, their lights flickering in the darkness. Doors appeared to be hanging open, figures out in the pouring rain.

  “Something’s happened ahead,” whispered Mikel on the line. “Looks like Hunt took out a checkpoint.”

  He stepped out as he spoke, slipping through the rain and noticing the sight of the half dozen soldiers littered across the ground. A few people had left their cars and were trying to revive them. Mikel knew it was no use. Hunt wasn’t likely to leave them alive.

  He sniffed the air, sifting through the many scents, and a distinctive odour swarmed up his nose.

  “Hunt passed this way only recently,” he whispered down the line. “I must go.”

  “Then go,” said the voice immediately. “And don’t fail me again.”

  The comms link was severed, and Mikel felt a twinge of rage creep through his semi-synthetic body. He didn’t like being spoken to in such a way, but would suck it up for the sake of the job. His promised reward was significant, after all. Money was only part of it. The true prize was the Phantom herself.

  He moved quickly back to his stolen car, and worked right past the others parked ahead of him. People jumped out of the way as he went, running over bodies that refused to move in time. And behind, off in the distance, the sound of sirens came singing, the soldiers quickly alerted to the murders at the checkpoint.

  The fact that they were yet to arrive made it clear to Mikel that Hunt had passed through not long ago. He was close. Close enough to smell the nanites, the fear he induced. Oh how he adored the chase.

  It was, after all, what he was born for.

  What he was made for.

  The storm continued to swell, slashing now with violent shows of lightning and booming thunder. Mikel enjoyed every surge, every web of energy that came flashing from the skies, every thunderous explosion that followed.

  It was a merciless, chaotic force of nature. And in it, he saw a kindred spirit.

  His smile rose, teeth glinting. Pressing forward, the electric vehicle flew at speed, far quicker than the car Hunt had appeared in. His eyes searched forward, desperate to see taillights glow across the black horizon. With each new pulse of lightning, his gaze intensified, spreading across the wasteland in search of his quarry.

  For a while, nothing appeared. The roads were empty out here, no cars passing his way. Then, as the heavens sparked to life, a dark silhouette appeared on the horizon, way off road and half hidden amid the rocks. Mikel hit the breaks, and the car slowed. He sent his keen gaze forwards and waited for the skies to light up once more.

  As soon as they did, he was leaping from his vehicle, splashing across the sodden earth and towards the dark shape. It was a car, Ragan’s car. He could smell them both. The agent and the Phantom.

  They were close, so very close.

  He drew his gun, moving quick, yet low to the ground as his strong legs carried him forward. Slipping from rock to rock, he soon came up on the vehicle, leaping suddenly from cover and pointing his gun at the driver’s seat.

  A flash of anger spread through him at the sight.

  The trunk was open, and so were both the driver and passenger doors. He sped on and looked inside.

  The car was empty.

  Ragan’s chest was heaving, and his legs were pumping.

  For a man so augmented as he was, that really said something. He could go at full pelt for quite some time without having to stop. Right now, he needed every ounce of that energy as he sped across the desert, Chloe hauled over his shoulders.

  He wore her rucksack on his back too, quickly retrieved from the stolen vehicle right after he’d managed to knock her out. Rushing back to the car, he’d opened the passenger door, reached in to pick up the bag, and had noticed a light speeding from down the dark road ahead.

  Ragan hadn’t waited to see who it might be.

  Something told him he already knew…

  Springing back to the ranch, he’d scooped Chloe up on his shoulder and began moving further out into the desert, rushing through the wind and rain and disappearing into the darkness. His powerful legs had been working now for a good ten minutes, churning through the grit and dirt as he navigated across the tundra.

  It was luck, really, that his alternative transport had been stashed nearby. Only a few miles away, hidden in the wilderness, a far more appropriate vehicle lay in wait.

  It was a blessing out here in the wilds, so deep within enemy territory. He didn’t much like the idea of having to steal another car.

  He didn’t take long to reach it, his scanning lens constantly at work to both direct his path and watch his back. He’d altered the settings to pick up heat signatures big enough to belong to a human. If anyone came chasing him down, he’d have a fair bit of warning. The range, however, was admittedly limited.

  Soon he was coming up on a deserted barn, barging through the doors, and finding his getaway car inside, hidden under a tarpaulin. It was a sleek grey transport that ran on electricity, its motor almost silent and top speed quite impressive.

  Most important of all, however, was its ability to mutate, short wings spreading from its flanks to allow it to go airborne. Right now, he’d have to be careful when using that function. All civilian transports were grounded during the war, the skies owned only by the military. Unless he was certain he could go unseen, it might be smart to stay on the roads.

  Might be.

  Opening up the passenger seat, he dropped Chloe inside, before removing her bag from his back and throwing it into the footwell. Before doing anything else, he decided that it was best to restrain her, just in case.

  That done, he hopped behind the wheel, noticing Chloe’s little drone peeking out from her pocket. It seemed to have a mind of its own, a quite remarkable invention.

  He dropped a little wink at it and started the car up, before rolling out of the barn and into the storm. The large windscreen gave him a panoramic view of the world ahead, helped by the car’s onboard computer, interfacing with cameras at its flanks and rear to present a full, 360 degree view of the surrounding environment.

  The cameras had several settings such as night-vision and infrared. He flicked to the former and the windscreen took on a green hue, turning the wilderness ahead as clear as day. He scanned the world around him and, satisfied that no one was following, rolled a little out into the desert.

  He lifted his eyes to the sky. The storm was still in full force, and the airways would be quiet.

  “How about it, little man,” he said, glancing down at
the drone in Chloe’s pocket. “You fancy going for a ride up there?”

  The little drone sank back into the shadows.

  “Scaredy cat,” Ragan grinned. “But I’ll take it as a yes anyway.”

  With that, he turned the car east, activated flight mode, and waited for the vehicle to morph appropriately. The wheels turned in, replaced by jet propulsion spouts allowing for vertical take off, and a set of short wings extended from the flanks.

  The car-turned-jet began rising seamlessly off the ground, right up over the barn. Ragan’s eyes turned west, and down below, coming up fast, he saw a car bouncing over the tundra.

  With a black-cloaked figure inside.

  He smiled.

  “Too late, Mikel,” he whispered. “Better luck next time.”

  Seconds later, the jet was gone.

  Sitting in his car, Mikel watched as the jet rose from the ground before quickly pulling away. The tease was almost overpowering. The Phantom girl had another purpose before he’d be able to feed on her. But Hunt…oh, Mikel would have his nanites before long.

  His fangs tingled with anticipation, the chase put on hold.

  So close, he thought, yet so far.

  Stopping the car under the heavy rain, he activated his comms system again.

  As soon as the line clicked, he spoke.

  “Hunt escaped in a jet,” he hissed immediately. “He had a jet-car stashed out in the desert.”

  The line was quiet for a moment.

  Mikel waited patiently, wondering if the connection was intact. As he was about to speak, his employer’s modulated voice rose up once more. A voice that Mikel had never actually heard in real life.

  In fact, he didn’t even know the man’s true identity.

  “I’m…disappointed, Mikel,” came the weird, distorted voice. “But I’m not completely surprised. Agent Hunt is highly competent. He should never be underestimated.”

  Mikel, though he hated to, couldn’t entirely disagree. It was a large part of the reason why Hunt’s nanites were so attractive to him. The more formidable the soldier, the more satisfying the feast.

  “I agree, Master,” whispered Mikel. “I will find him, I assure you.”

  “Oh, I’m certain of it,” came the voice. “This may, in fact, present an opportunity. Head east, Mikel. Let me do the rest.”

  21

  Chloe woke to the sound of a muffled voice.

  It gradually seeped into her weary head, creeping from somewhere nearby, beyond a door. Her eyes opened and she took in the shape of a room. It was small and stuffy, windowless. Chloe got the immediate feeling that she was underground.

  Her mind swiftly re-engaged, as it always did. This time, she wasn’t in a trunk, nor hidden in the pitch darkness. She was set on an old sofa, lying there with her ankles and wrists fully bound. A brief struggle made it clear she wasn’t going to be able to break them.

  As the sound of blurred words swept back into her head, she arched her eyes across the room and saw a door. Beyond it, through a frosted window, a shadow was moving, left and right, side to side, as he spoke.

  She focused and heard the tone of Ragan Hunt. The agent who’d bested her once more.

  She grumbled at the thought. Chloe had spent three years getting the better of her pursuers. Now she’d been outthought twice in the space of a day by the same damn man.

  His voice cleared. She listened carefully to his words.

  “Yes, Commander,” she heard him say, his words just about discernible. “I apologise again for the lack of contact. I was in a chase…needed to extricate myself from it. My wrist interface was damaged…I’ll update you soon.”

  He went silent after that. No further words were heard.

  Then, suddenly, the door opened up. She glared at Ragan as he entered with a quickly rising smile.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” he said brightly, shutting the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

  He came forward, drawing a chair from the side of the room and sitting down before her.

  Chloe refused to answer. She stiffened and pulled back, turning her eyes again to her wrists, bound tight ahead of her and right up against her waist.

  “Precautionary,” said Ragan. “I don’t want you using those lightning powers of yours again. If you try, you’ll only electrocute yourself.” His tone remained fairly light, friendly. Chloe wondered if this was the start of some good cop, bad cop routine, with the latter ready to enter. “How about some water? You must be thirsty.”

  He stood from the chair and moved to a table at the side of the room. There was an old water dispenser there. He quickly poured a cup and returned to Chloe’s side. The sight of the clear liquid was greatly appealing, but she felt a real aversion at being given it by this man.

  She drew back and turned her head away.

  “Chloe, you’re no good to anyone dehydrated. Now come on, don’t be stubborn. I’ll help.”

  He reached out with the cup towards her mouth. In this stale, fusty room, the water’s scent was too enticing. She betrayed her natural obstinacy and let him pour, her dry throat swiftly brought back into good order.

  “Better?” Ragan asked, stepping back.

  Chloe returned to her stoic self, a glare crafted across her eyes.

  “OK, so you’re probably wondering just where we are,” said Ragan, retaking his seat. “Well…”

  “New York,” came Chloe’s quick response. Her voice was a little croaky through lack of recent use.

  “Ah, she speaks…”

  “You’ve taken me to New York,” she went on, her voice clearing, “because you work for the CID over there.”

  “True, I do,” said Ragan, nodding. The smile was withdrawing, though. “But, no, you’re not in New York. In actual fact, we’re in the neutral zones right now. The storm has passed and the sun is rising. It’s been a long night, Chloe, but it’s all over now.”

  All over. Chloe looked around, helpless. He was right on that front.

  But, being in the neutral zones didn’t make much sense. They were swathes of land officially un-owned by the various governments, where the war didn’t tend to spread. That didn’t make them safe by any stretch, but the vast region at the centre of the continent was certainly a decent place for hideaways and vagrants.

  Chloe, for her part, had spent much time wandering these lands over the years, though could never quite shake the attention of agents and bounty hunters and all the rest. These regions might be technically ‘neutral’, but no matter where she went, her pursuers would follow.

  Still, it didn’t make much sense for Ragan to be here. For him, there was nowhere safer than New York. And surely that was the final destination.

  “So, you just stopped for the night, then?” asked Chloe. “How the hell did we get this far anyway. Last I remember we were…”

  “Just outside LA. Had a little run-in with Mikel again,” mused Ragan, a glower briefly dominating his handsome, rugged visage before retreating. “I had a jet-car stashed not far from where you went running, actually. Good thing too. Mikel was right on our tail.”

  The thought of the nano-vamp swamped Chloe’s head. She’d been caught, sure. But something told her Ragan was a better man for that job than the sickly, dead-eyed freak who’d stalked her through that tenement block.

  “Right,” Chloe shuddered. “So you got away, flew here…”

  Her memory stirred, and her eyes swept down to her jacket. She saw Remus tucked away in there, reenergising, and let out a sigh of relief. Not that it really mattered now.

  “Quite an amazing piece of tech, that,” said Ragan, watching Chloe’s eyes. “Your dad was a genius beyond compare, Chloe. I saw first hand for the first time just what that little drone can do…”

  “Remus,” grunted Chloe.

  “Excuse me? Um…your father?”

  “My drone,” whispered Chloe, a feeling of desolation filling her. “My dad made him to keep me safe, watch over me. I…I named him Remus.”

/>   The room was taken by a short silence, a sad silence. With Chloe’s eyes diverted, she only heard Ragan stand and step forward, guiding his eyes towards Chloe’s jacket.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Remus,” he whispered to the sleeping drone. “You’ve done an amazing job all these years, keeping her safe. But you have an ally in that now. You’re…not alone.”

  The words were soft, settling upon the musty air in that small room. They took a moment to register in Chloe’s head, and when they did, her eyes moved up again and linked with her captor’s.

  He gazed at her again, and a warm smile worked upon his eyes and mouth.

  “Chloe, there’s a lot you don’t know,” he said. “And I’m not the man you think I am.”

  Chloe was consumed by a state of curiosity, nothing quite adding up. Not the man before her, nor his words. Not this place, this windowless room, somewhere out in the neutral zones.

  Chloe’s life had forced her to never consider anyone to be anything other than a threat. She’d been hunted so many times that she looked upon the whole world with suspicion. Even the likes of Dax, who’d proven himself time and again, fell under her distrust depending on her mood. So rarely did she step back from that particular state, that she never even considered that someone might harbour a different intention.

  So as Ragan gently took his seat before her, his rugged face kind and friendly, his demeanour equally so, Chloe had a difficult time believing his words. The ones he’d just uttered - there’s a lot you don’t know. I’m not the man you think I am - made no sense at all. This man was an agent for the CID, who’d almost caught Chloe once before. Oh, she knew full well who he was.

  Didn’t she?

  With her eyes crafted into a frown, she guided them to the man as he sat forward in his chair. He turned over his right wrist, displaying an interface. Chloe had seen them on others before. She knew they were the markings of control.

  “You know what this is,” said Ragan, looking at Chloe’s bright blue eyes. “It is a leash, really, and little more. Some men are given no slack at all, others are granted more freedoms. My place with the CID has earned me their trust. It takes a fair amount from me for them to lose faith.”