by Adrian Smith
Goro grabbed a gray wand, like an airport scanner, and approached Ryan. “Please, let me demonstrate.”
He moved the wand over Ryan’s neck, swishing it back and forth until the wand emitted a shrill beep. On the screen, a green IP number flashed.
“As you see, Mr. Connors, you are on the safe list,” Goro said. He moved around the table, scanning the rest of The Nameless. With each beep, the correlating number flashed in the green screen.
“What about you two?”
Goro scanned himself and Touma, showing the green numbers.
“Sofia?” Ryan said, glancing at her. “Is all this computer stuff possible?”
“Yes. Highly advanced, but possible. All this technology for such evil.” She shook her head as she stared at the screen.
“I understand how you and Touma are on the list, but why us?” Ryan said.
“I put you on there,” Cal whispered. “Not me personally, but someone friendly. A doctor at the Eyrie. She coded an update for your Alphas so its encrypted. No matter what, you’ll be safe. Now that your nanites are activated, you’ll heal at incredible speed. Be impervious to disease. Aging? All but at a standstill.”
“Why? I thought you worked for him?”
Cal’s eyes softened as she stared at Ryan. As she pulled her lips tight over her jaw, the scar on her head creased. “They said that if I didn’t join them, they would kill all of you. I was foolish to believe I could destroy it from the inside. Offenheim was always five steps ahead.”
“All that stuff you said back on the freeway?”
“I said most of it to fool those listening. They’re always listening. When you tasered me, I think you fried the bug, here.” Cal tapped her scar above her right ear.
“But not your tracking device?” Touma said.
“Obviously not.”
“Why didn’t you let me know you were alive? I don’t understand,” Ryan said.
“I couldn’t. It was too risky. After Liam, the thought of losing you all was too much. This was the only way I could think of to bring us back together.”
His head swam at his wife’s words. He wanted to believe her. So much. He searched her face, scanning for any hint of truth. A twitch of a lie. Anything that revealed what she was really thinking.
Cal smiled. “For the many,” she whispered.
Ryan turned his attention back to Goro. “All you want us to do is get you into these server rooms?”
“Yes, before wave two. After that, Offenheim could lock us out permanently.”
“Wave two?” Cal said. She looked genuinely concerned.
“We always knew there would be survivors. Wave two is the distribution of food, water, and medicines, all laced with nanites, to the survivors, before hitting the switch again.”
Ryan shivered, thinking of that moment in Umi’s room when the pain hit, when Umi turned to ash in front of him, the hallways filling with people in agony. “How long have we got?”
“I can only go by the schedule I knew,” Yamada said. “We have ten days. But I’d like us to do it immediately. We’re heading to Tokyo as we speak.”
Ryan looked at The Nameless again. Thanks to their training and expertise, they were all skilled in being silent. Get in. Investigate. Extract. Disappear.
Disappear, to only remain as whispers in the night. Nameless. Rumors spoken about in corners, in dark bars filled with smoke, in hurried voices in the corridors of power.
They were older. Had more scars—both emotional and physical. Some, like Peter Booth and Sofia, were dressed nicely. Some, like him and Cal, were shells of their former selves. But he also saw that hard edge of determination. Determination to fight to the bitter end.
All his life, Ryan had been searching for a purpose. When he’d joined LK3, he’d thought that was it. When he’d met Cal and had children, he’d almost felt complete. But always missing was that tiny sliver. He remembered his grandfather telling him how proud he had been after helping the Allied forces liberate the Netherlands. The sense of fulfillment it gave him. He had returned to an England broken by the war. Looking for a fresh start, he and his Dutch bride had headed to New Zealand, searching for a new life and a purpose.
He looked up once more at Touma Yamada. “I gather the tower is like a fortress?”
“Yes.”
“No secret exits built into it?”
“One. It connects to my private train.” Touma switched the view on the screen. The feed showed dozens of people congregating in a train station, talking amongst themselves. Some stood on the platform, waiting for trains. They had pulled barriers across the entrances—to keep Siphons at bay, Ryan surmised. “As you can see, there is no way we can access that entrance without being seen. Once we are inside, we need to get to my private elevator. We can use it to access the server room on the tenth floor and the data storage facility, which is three floors below the parking garage.” Touma pointed to the screen. “We can enter the elevator here, in the car park.”
“I suppose with all the protection. Biomedical scans and all that.”
“Correct, Mr. Connors. I have assurance that you’ll get us in and out, unharmed.” He clicked his remote, changing the screen to show Allie, Keiko, and Hogai sitting in a room. Armed guards watched their every move.
Sofia jumped to her feet and lunged at Yamada, hands extended like claws. Her eyes flashed with an anger and hatred Ryan had never seen before. “You son of a whore! You let my daughter go!” Sofia screamed.
Yamada’s men easily held her back.
“We are willing to help you. Why?” Ryan said.
Booth and Cal joined him in voicing their concerns.
Touma held up his hand for silence. “They will not be harmed. Complete the mission and you’ll all be free to go. I’ll have my men bring them to my train while we are inside. Then you can go and stop Offenheim before the end.”
Booth scoffed and threw a hand out, gesturing above them. “The end is already here, old man, in case you didn’t realize.”
Yamada sighed and pulled out a chair, sitting down. “I don’t know the figures. That would be impossible. We predicted phase one would only knock out sixty to seventy percent maximum. Phase two, another twenty to twenty-five percent. Phase three was to reduce unwanted cities and towns to rubble. Let nature take over. We figured anyone left in small pockets would not be a threat. Offenheim, of course, disagreed. He formed death squads to mop up unwanted citizens. I believe you fought some at Koya, though you got caught up in a war between Offenheim and me. So, Mr. Booth, the end hasn’t come. It has merely begun.”
Sofia scowled and remained standing. “You harm so much as a hair on their heads and I’ll personally test how fast your nanites can heal.”
“As I said, complete the mission and you’re free to go.”
The boardroom fell silent as each member of The Nameless mulled over what had to be done. Ryan knew them all, understood what they were thinking. They wouldn’t like the situation any more than he did, but it was an out. An opportunity to learn how OPIS operated, to see if Touma kept his end of the bargain. An opportunity to finish Offenheim for good.
Ryan took the remote. He scrolled through the blueprints, studying the structure of the building. He grinned and turned. “I can get us into the building and out again. We go in old school. No rifles. Just handguns and knives. Throat mics.” He clicked to a photo of the tower. “I assume you have all the gear we need. Cameras, NVGs?”
Yamada nodded.
“Good,” Ryan said.
“How are you getting us in?” Cal said, rolling her shoulders.
“You want to come?”
“She comes with us, Mr. Connors. We need her,” Touma said.
“No way. Three years you’ve been gone. How do I know they didn’t turn you? Now you want in on a mission. Not happening,” Ryan said.
Booth leapt up, knocking over his chair. “I concur. You know protocol, Cal. I’m glad you’re alive and well, but you need to be debriefed, taken
back home. Until then, you’re off the team.”
“In case you didn’t notice, things have changed,” Cal said.
“Still no.” Ryan shook his head.
“I’m with the boys, Cal,” Sofia said
“Cal comes with us or the deal is off the table,” Yamada said. “That is the final word on the matter.”
Cal smiled. “How are we getting in?”
Ryan grimaced and said, “We’re going to use Ryukyukan, the typhoon flood prevention system.”
Yamada began clapping. “Brilliant, Mr. Connors. It releases water right into the harbor. We can take the sub up to one of the outlets. It’s the dry season. We can walk right underneath Yamada Tower and out again. Offenheim won’t have a clue.”
“ETA?”
Goro picked up a phone and spoke rapidly for a few seconds. “Seven hours.”
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a few hours rest before cleaning up your mess,” Ryan said.
There were several grunts of agreement, and the briefing broke up.
Ryan watched as Goro uncuffed Cal, then turned and followed his armed escort. His body seemed to sense he was going to sleep. His limbs felt heavy, like he was walking through wet cement.
A guard pushed open a door and showed him his room. As much as Ryan wanted to interrogate his wife, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he drifted off to sleep.
Thirty-Seven
Devil’s Falls
Sierra Nevada Mountains
Zanzi pushed Tilly behind her, keeping her eyes firmly on the sightless old lady. At least, she thought the figure was an old lady. The dressing gown she wore was half torn. Her skin was wrinkled, though ivory-colored. Deep within the creases of her skin appeared to be bright red blood seeping out, lines crisscrossing her skin as though some crazed serial killer had slashed at her again and again.
Zanzi investigated the lounge and what she figured were the remains of the lady’s husband. He was on his stomach, his head at an odd angle. The stump of his spine poked out from his skull. Where his spine had been pried away from his back, it was licked clean, the vertebrae white. The backs of his ribs, where muscle and flesh were, had been ripped away.
The old lady had not consumed any of the flesh. From what Zanzi could deduce, she had concentrated only on the spine.
Zanzi backed away and risked a quick peek around the kitchen, hunting for a knife. Tilly cried out a warning as the lady charged, snarling. Zanzi pushed back into Tilly and, using her as leverage, brought her feet up to catch the lady in the chest, kicking her off balance. The lady staggered and stumbled, grunting as she hit the kitchen island. Desperate, Zanzi looked for a weapon. The old lady groaned, the sound coming out as a gurgle, like she was using mouthwash. Before she could right herself, Zanzi kicked her in the side of her head, swinging her hips to put in all the power she could muster in the confined space.
The rabid lady let out a pained howl and lunged.
“404! Anyone! We need help,” Zanzi shouted.
The constant sound of their carbines firing answered her pleas. Other gunshots echoed from farther away. They too were becoming more intense.
Tilly shouted another warning as she pushed past Zanzi and belted the old lady with a rolling pin. The hit must have rattled something because the rabid woman staggered, fell to the ground, and rolled onto her back, snarling.
Tilly shrieked and dropped the rolling pin. Finally, Zanzi spotted a weapon. A roasting fork sat in the kitchen sink, covered in roast chicken and gravy. Using her left foot, she pressed down on the old lady’s throat. She was grunting and swinging her legs, trying to kick back at Zanzi.
Zanzi dropped down on her left knee and plunged the roasting fork through the old lady’s throat. She gasped once and went still.
Panting, more from nerves than exertion, Zanzi stood, turned away, and retched. Yes, she had killed the black-clad commandos, but they were armed. She glanced over at Tilly and back down at the old lady. This was an innocent life, killed because of the madmen up on the mountain.
“Are you okay, Tilly?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone killed before in real life, like that. She looks weird. Well, there was that time when Barko had the clickers kill Isobel. So I’ve seen that. We all did. He made us watch.” Tilly stopped talking and shook her head.
Zanzi grabbed Tilly by the hand and ran out the front door. 404 and 405 were swinging their rifles from side to side. Using controlled bursts, they cut down any rabid person that advanced on them. There were now dozens, running in from all directions, howling. Countless more lay in piles on the street. Zanzi turned and looked behind the house. Alba, Lahm, and two of the other three soldiers were slowly back-pedaling toward their position. Dozens more chased them.
Above the sounds of the battle came a new sound, one that gave Zanzi some hope of getting out of this town alive: chopper rotors thumping overhead. High caliber rounds rained down on the mutated townsfolk, cutting them to shreds.
“404. I need a weapon!”
404 took down another sightless with a well-placed headshot and, unclipping his pistol, tossed it to her. Zanzi caught it and pushed Tilly behind her. Zanzi handed her the blood-coated rolling pin.
“Use this if you have to. Be brave.” She held the young woman’s gaze for a few moments, satisfied that she understood.
“Head shots are killing shots,” 404 shouted to her as he took a hunk of skull off an obese man dressed in a flannel shirt and overalls.
Alba, Lahm, and the others reached her group and together they formed a circle, firing and moving down the street, back toward the landing zone. It was slow going, but with the chopper decimating the bulk of the horde, they were merely picking off the stragglers.
As they reached the chopper, some movement caught Zanzi’s attention. Above the hair salon, two figures watched them. Women, one with red hair, the other a blonde. Poking out from between their legs was the face of a small child. The red-haired lady held her finger to her lips and let the curtain fall back across the glass.
One of the 400s hauled a struggling rabid man into the chopper. They had duct-taped his hands, feet, and mouth. The helicopter hummed and rose, then banked away. Keeping low, it hugged the valley floor, following the river. Now that the danger was over, 404 took the pistol off Zanzi, earning a glare from Alba. The vengeful, angry part of her wanted to snatch the gun back, leap across the hold, jam it under Alba’s chin and blow her brains out. But the sensible part of her noted that the soldiers would kill her, and probably Tilly, without hesitation.
No. She needed to stick to her plan. Follow orders and take this lot down from the inside. She thought of Harriet, somewhere within the facility, suffering from God knows what. Zanzi clenched her fists at her sides and watched the scenery whiz by.
It didn’t take long to reach the satellite installation Milo and the others called the Eyrie. On arrival, they had to go through decontamination. First, they were washed, fully clothed, the high-pressure water stinging any exposed skin. In the next room, they stripped naked and swam through a deep trough filled with pink liquid. The robotic, monotone voice instructed them to submerse their heads. The water tingled and made all the hairs on Zanzi’s body stand up. Finally, they had a shower and dressed.
Tilly giggled as she zipped up her plain gray jumpsuit. “That was naughty. Fun, but naughty. I don’t normally see other people with no clothes on. I don’t think I’ve even seen a boy. Girls look nicer anyway. One time I went to the blue lake near my house with my friend Sonya. We really wanted to swim because it was so hot. I said let’s just wear our underwear, but Sonya didn’t want to get them wet. So…”
“Tilly!” Milo said, from across the room. He lowered his voice. “That will do.”
The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as Milo ushered Zanzi into his office and waited until she was sitting down.
“Drink?” he offered, holding up the same bottle of scotch from t
heir last talk.
“No thanks,” Zanzi said, standing. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
“What do you mean?” Milo smiled.
“We nearly got eaten by a bunch of mutated people and you’re asking me what I mean. Really?”
Milo laughed and gulped down his scotch. “Just like Calwyn. Full of spirit.”
“You can start with that.” She folded her arms across her chest. Her heart was beating like woodpecker hitting a tree.
Milo poured himself another scotch. “We captured your mother three years ago, after your parents came snooping around. Plucked her straight from the river. After several sessions with Alba, she agreed to work for us. We promised her you and Ryan would be spared. But you, Zanzi, had to go and find a sample of Harriet’s blood. Yet, you survived that explosion. Kohli, the idiot, blew himself up in the process.”
“Dr. Kohli worked for you?”
“Naturally.”
“What happened to the townsfolk down in Devil’s Falls? The pathogen?”
Milo smiled again. Zanzi swore she saw a twinkle in his eye, like he was enjoying this. “Let me ask you something. Have you heard of any pathogen doing that?”
“Well, no. But I’m not a virologist. I’ve heard reports of all sorts of ancient diseases being exposed from the melting ice in the polar regions.”
“Okay, let me ask you another question. Have you heard of nanites?”
Zanzi frowned and sat heavily. She looked at Milo as a grin spread across his face. She reached out and poured herself a scotch, her analytical mind whirring. She had heard of nanites in the medical world. But it was just a wonderful idea. Science fiction. Wasn’t it? Microscopic robots that could be injected into a person’s bloodstream. Repair damage from the inside. No need for invasive surgery. Repair damage to the brain caused by dementia or Alzheimer’s. Zanzi knew of plenty of universities working toward this goal, but so far as she knew, it was still just a dream. “Are you telling me that nanites caused billions of people to self-combust? Turn to ash in agonizing pain.”
