by Russ Linton
Chroma had her own way of doing things, but even she left behind fingerprints, and he knew where she'd gone. First to the warehouse video feeds and from there, he had her scent.
Ember. She'd erased Ember for a reason. He charged into China's Ministry of Public Security, pixels blazing. He didn't care how much of a trail he left, or if the intrusion was detected. A smash and grab, virtual style. All he needed was one tiny hint as to where the supernova Augment might be tasked next.
"Got it!"
Chinese intelligence had been working with a recent tip from an unknown source. It all led back to Chroma. She'd picked up on a cellphone under the Collective's new expanded network in the middle of the Hindu Kush, Afghanistan. From there the calls went to a medical supplier or lab of some kind in Kashmir.
"Woah. Says here they think new Augments were being created there. They sent Ember to clean up."
Things were starting to make sense. Chroma convinces Spencer he's on to Vulkan. She lures Ember there... Fuck.
“She wouldn't hurt him? Would she?”
That's what Chroma wants. For whatever reason, she couldn't send Spencer directly. She's manipulating the situation; her interrogation training, her social engineering techniques, there has to be an underlying plan. Xamse probably doesn't care about Ember as long as she stays overseas, but he might care about whatever Hound and Danger are up to. That might get an okay from him to send the Black Beetle and in turn get the Augment killer near Ember.
She won't hurt him, Eric. Nobody is going to hurt my son.
We'll find him first, Eric thought. Or was it his thought? Christ, he didn't know, his head hurt so much. All he wanted to do was lie down. A throbbing pulse of a helicopter rotor rattled the exterior of the building. No time. No more time.
CHAPTER 39
JACKIE KEPT HER EYE open for any potential contacts in the village. The looks she received weren't welcoming. She'd begun to suspect they were in an extremist sympathetic area. Allegiances and even tribal leadership had probably changed dramatically since the Americans departed.
Hound and Danger stayed back. Whether this was their intention, or they were waiting for direction from her, she couldn't say. More traffic had come to the road with the dawn. Vans, trucks, and beat up compact cars trudged their way up the gradual incline.
There was soon no more room for even the tenacious mountain homes. Solid granite heights hemmed the road and sky, leaving only a matching distant blue trail. To their right, the river ran far below in an unkempt sprawl loaded with a mix of gravel, rocks, and the battered remains of rusted out vehicles. A retaining wall alternated on either side of the road. An official highway of sorts, the surface had been covered in asphalt but had no markings aside from the tar filled cracks and shattered dents where ice or falling boulders had scarred the surface.
A few miles out from the last house, they came to a blind curve where an unyielding chunk of rock narrowed the road, pushing traffic toward the low and battered wall which kept cars from plummeting into the gorge.
Checking the distance to her, Danger waved two fingers and crossed to the inside of the curve. Jackie and Hound followed closely. While the walk beside the drop had been unnerving, she didn't feel any more comfortable with the chewed-up rock at her side, scarred by tires and paint.
Within seconds, an open cargo truck with wooden rails came hurtling around the curve. Its tires chirped on the rippled surface, and it skidded several inches before bouncing off the stone wall where they'd stood, sending chunks of mortar and rock into the river. A tap of the brakes and the truck rumbled away.
Jackie felt the blood drain out of her face. She'd gasped as it happened and now choked, her mouth full of pungent exhaust and the fibrous stench of melting brakes. Before she could get a word out through the coughing fit, she heard a shout from around the blind corner.
"Asshole! Fucker of mothers!"
The voice was small, swallowed by the vast landscape. She and Hound exchanged incredulous looks and crept around the corner. Danger had already resumed walking.
In the middle of the narrow stretch stood a boy. He waved a crushed soda bottle after the disappearing truck. He couldn't have been any older than ten, maybe eleven years. He wore loose pants and a collared tunic over a dark mock turtleneck. Covered in grime and dust from the road, the mountain, the passing cars, he could almost blend with the asphalt if not for the maroon jacket he wore.
Jackie ditched her pack and rushed to the boy. She eyed the lanes wildly. When she got to him, she gently touched his arm "Are you okay? Come on, let's get you over here."
The boy smacked her hand with the bottle.
"Back off, lady!"
The action shocked her nearly as much as the runaway truck. She looked to her companions for guidance. Danger slouched, unimpressed just beyond the curve. Hound had stopped short on the other end, keeping an eye out for oncoming traffic. Their typical silent communications tuned in, the teammates were watching both approaches while she stood exposed in the middle of the road.
"Aw shoot! Trying to work here! Move along!" The kid continued speaking in broken English.
"Oh, sorry. I thought that truck—"
The boy cut her off with a vicious swipe of his bottle. "Fuck that truck! He never pay anyway." The boy waved a smartphone clutched tightly in his other fist. "Shoot. Needs his money for crashes."
Another car approached from up the road, near Danger. The boy strode away from her and slipped a little to the side. The driver slowed as the kid gave an exaggerated glance both ways and then waved his bottle above his head, flagging the driver onward. Half bowed, he held out his smartphone, and the driver slowed to tap his against the boy's. The boy returned to her side, scrolling through the screen on his phone.
"Hakim. Good man. Always pays."
Jackie almost laughed. His smooth brow furrowed and the tight seriousness with which he spoke made him seem like a stunted gangster.
"You collect a toll?"
The boy eyed her in disgust. "This road dangerous. Many cars," he said and finished the sentence by gilding the bottle over the palm of his hand and arcing it into the empty air with a slow, time-defying motion. "I make sure people get home." He said the last part emphatically and with a clear command of the phrase as if it had been specifically taught to him. His eyes narrowed. "You American?"
"Why do you ask?" She'd spoken to him first in English out of shock. Even if she'd used her spotty Pashto, he'd probably have guessed. It was obvious the kid had likely picked up his English from soldiers stationed in the valley. "Do you not like Americans?"
His face scrunched as though he'd just caught wind of the fumes. "No. No American," he spat. She waited to be reprimanded or to hear one of the stories she'd heard so often. His parents killed by bombs or his father dragged away in the dead of night. "They pay with candy."
"I see."
Another vehicle approached, a van, and the boy repeated his task. This time he earned a pat on the head and a smile from the driver which faded as he glanced first at Hound then her. The boy walked away dejected.
"Qader. He treats me like baby."
Jackie had an idea. "What’s your name?"
"Ubaid," he said proudly, straightening his jacket.
"Ubaid, I bet you know everybody along this road."
He sniffed and pretended to appraise her compliment. "Shoot. They drive this road, I know them. They don't stop? I know them," he said, tapping his head.
"Can you think of anyone nice enough to give my friends and I ride? Somebody going that way," she said, pointing uphill. "Maybe as far as Pakistan?"
"They soldiers?" The boy squinted suspiciously at her.
"I'm a reporter," she said. "They're my security detail."
He scratched his chin where a beard had yet to show any sign of emerging. Decided, he nodded briskly.
"Thank you," she said. He wasn't the best fixer perhaps, but he'd do. When she went on assignments in the past, she always had her guides referre
d to her. Claiming she could conjure one up out of the valleys and stones here might have been a little over-confident. She'd been running through a mental list of names since she'd made her verbal commitment to take charge. East of Kabul, she'd only had the military and Aazar, and he'd been shipped off before the Lady even showed up. She turned to tell Hound the news.
"Ahem." Jackie stopped at the reedy sound of kid's voice. He waved his phone.
"How do you get paid?"
"Salarium," he responded, almost offended. "Sometimes." He produced a can from his jacket pocket and shook it. Change jingled inside. But I'm telling you again," he wagged a finger but didn't continue.
"Of course," she said. "No candy, no head pats."
He signaled a thumbs up and wandered back into the road.
"This kid," she said, walking confidently toward Hound. "He can get us a ride. We just need to pay him." Jackie swept past and dug into her pack. "Any Salarium on you?"
Hound snorted. "Magic money made in the clouds or some shit."
"I think it all is nowadays," she said into the depths of her bag.
Her camera gear wasn't on offer. Nor could she afford to give away her solar charger which she desperately needed to use. She'd been given some Afghani currency at the start of her assignment which she hadn't touched. A wad of paper bills, she had no idea what the going rate could be.
Hound crouched beside her. He dug out the hand mike for his military radio which he'd hidden under the loose tunic. "Spence, you out there?"
In the lengthy wait for a reply, Jackie slowed her search through her pack. She hesitated with the money in hand, waiting to hear the Beetle's voice.
"I'm supposed to say 10-4, right?" came the unscrambled reply.
Hound gritted his teeth. "Good enough. We may be hitchin' a ride. I'll get the vehicle description to ya once we're loaded."
"About time. I was ready to haul you guys up, one in each claw and tie one on the back. Maybe the new girl. Think an Augment could survive high altitude, supersonic speeds? Maybe this lab we're going to could thaw you out."
"I'll pass," Hound grumbled. "Stand by."
"Doing a lot of that lately. I'm not any better at it."
Still crouched, Hound dangled the radio between his knees for a long time after the conversation ended. Jackie pretended to focus on rearranging her pack. This history of theirs, Hound and the Black Beetle, could be a problem. She hadn't been told the exact location of the lab either. Pursuing this lead on her own wasn't an option...yet.
"I still don't like him following us," she said.
Hound grunted. "Noted. Again. Trust me, it's a good thing he's decided to not go cowboy. And we could use an eye in the sky."
Jackie didn't push. She re-shouldered her pack and swung toward Ubaid gripping a wad of uncounted bills. Sternly, he raised a gloved hand. She held as he scanned up and down the road, only moving when he'd waved her toward him with the empty bottle.
"Is this enough?" She stuffed the wad into his can, and his eyes widened.
"Shoot, I get you good ride. Wait there." He directed her back toward the towering granite cliff. "Your friend, too." He indicated Danger who'd squatted beside the wall across the road from Hound.
"Don't worry about him. You do a great job, but he'll be safe."
"Shoot. His funeral party."
More cars gathered as the day wore on. Ubaid scurried between the lanes, hopping and shouting. At times he'd needed to stop oncoming traffic and let multiple cars pass. The drivers ignored the pilgrims on the roadside. As Ubaid gathered his payment, occasionally he would direct their attention to Jackie. Every driver a man, their eyes went first to Hound. Older and unshaven with a good layer of trail dust, he didn't look to be the intimidating Western weapon of war. For those moments, she played the part too with her scarf covering her face, demure, unnoticeable. None seemed interested.
Late in the day, she caught Danger on his feet with his eyes toward the thread of blue sky. A hawk, perhaps, or an eagle had caught his attention. She'd seen some amazing birds roosting in the crags. She followed his gaze while a knot of vehicles honked and revved around the tenacious Ubaid.
High above them, a figure leapt the gap. From this distance, it looked to be a shadow of a tiny man with glowing feet. Rockets. Danger stared into the space where the Black Beetle disappeared behind the mountain top, and a rumble like thunder followed.
No, she didn't like this guy one bit. She'd sensed a kindred pain at one time. The guilt she felt and believed he surely carried gnawed at him. She was consumed in her own way with this quest to confront her birth mother. She wondered if she had powers like those, would she have gone down a similar destructive path?
No, she'd use them for good.
"Come on," Hound tapped her arm. "Our ride."
Ubaid was waving them toward a pickup. The two-seater cab already filled, he banged on the rail of the bed. A couple goats tethered to a hidden anchor meandered listlessly. Jackie tried to get Hound's attention, but he was stooped over his bag furtively speaking into the radio. She grabbed her gear and went to join Ubaid.
"Got anything other than livestock class?"
Ubaid grimaced at her. "Best class. Goats keep you warm. Got milk, eh?" He offered a goofy grin, drawing a circle around his mouth.
Jackie laughed, making sure to keep her Hijab drawn while the driver scowled in his side mirror. "The driver is good?"
"Relax." Ubaid pleaded. "You with goats. He drive safe."
Danger had already vaulted into the bed to sit on the wheel well. Next came Hound, chucking his pack into the bed before clambering over the tailgate. Weapons stashed, the long rifles broken down and stored in their packs, neither looked menacing. The men in the cab seemed more impatient than wary. Jackie sighed and added her pack.
"Thank you, Ubaid."
"Shoot, lady. Anytime."
Using the tire as a step, she tumbled inside, disturbing one of the goats who shied away, split hooves clicking on rusted metal. Ubaid's face drew into one of utmost professionalism, and he stepped away, the boyish smile hidden as he flagged them on with the empty soda bottle.
Hound lounged against the tailgate, elbows propped on the edge, arms spread. He interrupted his relaxed pose to offer Ubaid a quick salute. Across from her, Danger rode atop the wheel well precariously high against the edge of the bed. She wondered if the position sent his senses into overload. Whatever internal triggers acted to warn him of peril, he didn't appear disturbed by his seating arrangement. But his eyes were still on the heights. It didn't make Jackie feel any better.
CHAPTER 40
ABOUT THE FIFTH TIME a goat stumbled into her lap, Jackie gave up and let it stay. Sure-footed, they maintained their balance well around the tight curves and cratered road.
They stank, an earthy musk soon lost under the fumes of burning oil and the cloud created by a ruined muffler. Jackie knew she smelled just as bad. Their attention was welcome for their soft fur which held back the biting wind. Ubaid had been right about that.
She hadn't been as brave as Danger who'd left his perch and invaded the goat's territory. He slumped, asleep, with his back to the cab and the other goat munching contentedly on his boot laces.
If she needed any better sign they'd have an uneventful journey, that should've been it. Danger, sleeping. Hound remained sprawled against the tailgate, his own head nodding. She'd gotten used to many things soldiers could do. The whole sleeping on the move, sleeping under the most adverse conditions, hadn't fully come to her.
They passed a cluster of people and a few cars, stopped incredulously in this no man's land of sheer cliff faces and dizzying drops. The men and women clenched their clothes in grief, their faces red, drawn into open cries of anguish. Jackie slipped her battery from the charger which she'd been filling using the scant rays of sunlight. Camera raised, she took several shots as they passed.
It wasn't until they'd wound their way up and above the scene that an unspoiled view of the gorge told th
e rest of the story. A vehicle burned below. Blackened and perforated by flames licking from a row of windows, the small bus could've held a dozen people, maybe more.
Jackie lowered her camera, unable to fit the entire story of grief and loss into a single frame. Hound twisted around to look and wagged his head. She searched the sky, the peak framed emptiness. Somewhere out there, a guy, a kid, in a flying armored suit imbued with superhuman strength, followed.
Had he seen the wreck? Even tried to do anything about it?
"Hard to say what could've gone wrong," said Hound.
Jackie stroked the shaggy goat stretched across her lap. She and Hound watched each other for a while, neither having much to say. Their driver continued up the snaking road.
As night fell, they began the long descent. Jackie was thankful for the darkness. Watching the headlights race toward jagged corners and disappear into an empty, unforgiving blackness, she didn't want to know what lay ahead. The truck seemed to hurtle into nothingness and squeal like a runaway mine car as it shimmied around tight corners and switchbacks. Even the steady goats had given up trying to stand.
Jackie used to ride a roller coaster at the tiny local amusement park. On days her father had held a job long enough to want to celebrate, they'd go. They'd head for the Blackout, a small roller coaster which seemed enormous to her. The twists and turns and stomach-yanking drops all took place inside a darkened warehouse.
"Pretending you can fly again?" he always shouted sometime around the second curve.
He didn't need to see her to ask, she'd have her arms spread like wings, one pressed to his chest. "Pretending to be her," she'd say.
But even the rickety roller coaster had been gentler than their current ride. Her ass hurt. Her leg muscles cramped from constantly having to brace herself to avoid skipping across the bed of the truck. Hound had mastered this by using his arms as support while Danger seemed oddly stable in the depths of his sleep.
She felt relieved when the truck pulled off the road. Darkness had swallowed them, and the trench of night sky above had tapered into a thin band between tall treetops.
