Resurgence

by Peter Hoole

  “Fine.” William replied, “I can direct you to the secondary checkpoint. The one the Sydney bound colonists were directed to.”

  “Well… that’s a good start.” Darcy smiled, “Where is it?”

  “It’s a nightclub in Sydney. I’ll show you.”

  “Where is it?” Dunleavy asked more forcefully.

  William became aggressive. He was not accustomed to being is such a perilous position.

  “I will show you!” he said with vigour, “I will not tell you. There is no reason for me to. Once you have the information, you’ll be able to kill me.”

  Darcy knew he was right. She also realised that Murphy was right. While Caleb had kept the others alive over the past few days, it was done out of compassion. Now, Darcy knew they had to keep the Englishman alive out of necessity.

  “Fine. You can show us.” Darcy said, “How long until we reach Sydney?”

  The question was directed at Casey.

  “We’re an hour or so away from the suburbs, but it will take a bit longer to get to the Central Business District. If I had to guess, I’d say we were a few hours out.”

  “Okay then,” Darcy responded, “I guess we better get going.”

  Casey turned the car on and pulled out of the lay way.

  Darcy continued to look over her shoulder at William, and occasionally glanced at Caleb.

  Caleb had still not moved.

  “Dunleavy, can you check him again?” she asked.

  Dunleavy leant over and grabbed Caleb’s wrist. “Still the same. There’s a beat, but not much of one.”

  “Any improvement?”

  “Not that I can tell.”

  Murphy spoke up from the back. “That’s good news Darcy. Normally he would have bled out and died by now. The fact he’s still alive is a good thing.”

  Darcy did not know much about human physiology, and even less about the effect of gunshots. But through some logic, she figured Murphy had to be right.

  “Just keep an eye on him, Mike.” She said to Dunleavy.

  Casey pulled onto the Castlereagh Highway, and made their way South towards Sydney.

  As they still had some time in the ‘Bat, Darcy decided to get some more information from William.

  “William,” she began, feeling her journalistic instincts kick in, “Who are we going after in Sydney? Anyone in particular?”

  William hesitated in his response, but eventually relented. He had to figure that Murphy already knew part of what he was about to say.

  “Well…” he began, “Most of them have probably scattered by now. But there are a few that have been ordered to lay low in the City.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t everyone just leave?” asked Dunleavy.

  “Part of the protocol was that, should the implosion and evacuation occur, a team will make their way back to Haven after a few days. Kind of to assist with any recovery of data.”

  Excellent, Darcy thought as she formed a plan for their next move.

  “So… who will be there?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you more when we arrive. Just for now… we need to get there.”

  Darcy was frustrated with his response, but she figured it was not in William’s interest to give up too much information at this stage.

  She decided to wait until they got closer.

  “What are your thoughts, Casey?” she asked the driver.

  A look of disbelief was strewn across the Sergeants face. It was apparent he was still trying to make sense of Murphy’s revelation.

  “I’m not sure Darcy. We need to do something. This is something, so maybe we should do it.”

  “I’m not sure we have another option.”

  “Agreed.”

  Darcy then turned her attention back to Murphy.

  “Now… it’s your turn.” She said

  “What do you mean?” Murphy asked.

  “We’ve got a drive ahead of us. It’s time for you to tell Casey and me the truth about who you are, and how you came to be in Caleb’s team.”

  Murphy looked back at Darcy, as though assessing her options. It was apparent there were none.

  “Fine.” Murphy began, “I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”

  Chapter Three

  The day had started well.

  Deanna had woken to a brisk spring morning in the nation’s capital. Having swung her legs out of bed, Deanna proceeded with her daily routine – a five-mile run, breakfast and a quick read of the paper.

  She then searched the internet for any potential work and checked her emails.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary - cheating spouse’s, runaway kids, insurance fraud - all part of her regular work as a private investigator.

  Currently, she was working on a half-dozen different cases.

  There were two men cheating on their wives in DC – not a completely unusual situation in a town full of politicians.

  Then there were a couple of runaway cases. One involved a young girl from the area. She had a history of running away from home, but so far there was no sign of her.

  As with most missing person cases, the families came to Deanna once they heard the fateful words from the police, “We’ve done all we can.”

  Often Deanna realised this was far from the case. It wasn’t that the police didn’t want to help; they just didn’t have the resources or staff available. As she was a private contractor, Deanna was able to determine which cases she took and when.

  She joined the profession not long after her thirtieth birthday. Deanna had felt she had outgrown first job – a paralegal at a small law firm.

  She had studied hard her entire life, eventually graduating with honours from law school. Once she had entered the working world, she found herself increasing frustrated with the happenings around her.

  As a paralegal, she found the work mundane and often found her morals compromised. So, she made the decision to leave and branch out on her own.

  The career of private investigation had always appealed to her sense of adventure, her sense of doing the right thing. And the major bonus, as far as Deanna could see, was that she could pick and choose her who she worked for.

  After a slow start, work became more regular, and she was often referred by former clients. It was this work that she knew she should be focusing on, but like the rest of the world, the events of the previous twenty-four hours had become more than a distraction – it had become the only thing people could talk about.

  Little did Deanna know that she was about to be dragged into the midst of it all.

  With everyone on high alert, she pondered her email, trying to distract herself from the day’s events.

  As she read the words on her monitor, she was startled by her phone.

  Normally, the upbeat ringtone would make her happy, but on this occasion it served little more than to startle her.

  Deanna looked at the screen, but only saw a blocked number. This often meant a call from one of her friends in law enforcement – usually the DC police.

  She swiped the screen and answered the call.

  “Hello,” Deanna said.

  “Deanna,” said the male caller on the other end of the line, “I’ve got something for you.”

  Deanna recognised the voice. It was from an agent with the FBI. She had made his acquaintance some time earlier, when she was in the throes of a missing person case – the case of a young girl that she had sought his help with about twelve months prior.

  “Dan.” she responded in recognition.

  “Deanna.” The agent repeated, “I’ve been getting the emails you’ve been sending.”

  When Deanna picked up a new case, she would often send an email out to all her contacts, often to fish out some sort of a lead. More frequently than not, the email would not result in anything.

  This time would seem to be different.

  As she had sent out several emails to Dan (and others), she was unsure of what the agent as referring to.

  “Great,�
�� she replied, “I’ve been looking for a distraction today.”

  “Well, I think you have one.”

  “Really? What can you do for me?” she asked.

  The agent took some time. It was a tough he was unsure if he should be speaking with her. In the end, he spoke, “You know the missing person you sent through a few months ago? The kid from Colorado?”

  Deanna immediately recalled the case. While she operated mainly in the nation’s capital, her reputation had crossed state lines, and she would infrequently get requests from out-of-state.

  “Yeah, of course.” She replied, “What can you tell me?”

  “I’m not sure if I should be talking to you about this, but we need to figure this out quick.”

  “Figure what out?”

  Again, the agent paused. Clearly something had rattled him.

  “You’ve heard about Seattle, right?”

  “Of course, it’s all over the news.”

  “Well, the plane was taken down by a missile. It was launched from the side of the runway.”

  “Yeah… they think it’s a terrorist strike.”

  “Yeah… that’s what they think.” Dan replied.

  “You don’t sound so sure.” Deanna responded.

  “Well… like I said, I think you can help.”

  Deanna had no idea what Dan was referring to. She had no information about the terror group that had caused the attack, nor anything that would lead her to believe the kid from Colorado could be involved.

  Deanna was confused, so she asked the obvious question, “Dan, what does this have to do with my email? What does this have to do with the kid?”

  “Deanna…” Again, the agent paused, “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Not much…” replied Deanna, becoming frustrated that Dan was holding back information, “I got a call a few months back. His mom and dad had exhausted all avenues with the local PD. He’d been missing for some time, and they reached out. They’d heard about some of my cases, and my record, so they asked me to see what I could find out…”

  “What did you find?”

  “As I said, not much. I met his family in suburban Boulder. Nice people. Normal lives. He was a contractor for the hospital, and she worked in the hospital’s emergency department. Frank and Jill. Several months earlier, their son went out one night and never returned.”

  “What happened then?” asked Dan.

  “That I can’t be sure of. I only got as far as the police. He met with a blonde man at a local diner. The diner owners said the man spoke with a French, maybe Canadian accent. They had a conversation and left.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “There was one thing. When I checked out the kid’s room, there was a note about the meeting at the diner on his study desk. And it also mentioned something that I haven’t figured out yet.”

  “What was that?”

  “It just said, “See you in the next life’,”

  “And you have no idea what that means?”

  “No Dan. As I’ve said a couple of times, I didn’t find much. After he left the diner, there was no trace of him. No social media, no cash withdrawals. It’s like he just vanished. To be honest, I figured he was dead. But, the kid’s parents were relentless. I mean, how could you blame them? Their boy had gone missing.”

  The agent didn’t speak on the other end of the phone, but Deanna could tell he was considering his options.

  “Why did you call, Dan? What does this have to do with what happened this morning?” Deanna asked after a few seconds.

  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell you this…”

  “Tell me what.”

  “This kid… was his name Matthew?”

  “Yeah… why?”

  “Deanna. He was the one that shot down the plane.”

  The statement took more than a few moments to process.

  Holy shit Deanna thought.

  After a time, she spoke, “Is he alive?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s been shot several times.”

  The agent let the news sink in. Eventually he spoke up.

  “Deanna, we’re gonna need your help.”

  ***

  He stood alone in the room.

  For so long he had only had to follow the instruction of his leader. Now his friend, mentor and inspiration was gone.

  All efforts to contact the Haven colony had been in vain, and it was now he that needed to make the decisions.

  It had always been planned that way.

  In the event of James’ disappearance or death, it was incumbent on Zach to take the lead in the Colonials operations.

  And the timing couldn’t have been worse. With Phase Two nearing completion, Zach had contacted John and decided that Phase Three needed to commence.

  That was, after all, James’ instruction.

  While the situation was not ideal, Zach knew it was the correct course of action, and he followed James’ orders to the letter.

  Just hours previously, Zach and John – his other colleague – had contacted their Zone Three colleague, Robert. It was Zach’s preference to keep Robert in the dark, and out of the decision-making process. He was of the view that Robert, while a loyal member of the Colonials, was too arrogant for his liking.

  The events of the preceding days had only reinforced this position, as they had been let down by the Minot colony on more than one occasion. It was Roberts’s team members – Pierre, Natalie – that had been tasked with dealing with the infiltrators.

  While they had been successful in taking down the plane in Seattle, Roberts’s team had ultimately failed to protect the Colonials plans.

  In fact, if the doctor had not currently been in Zone Three, Zach would have kept Robert out of the loop completely.

  Still, it was the situation Zach was faced with, and he would do his utmost to ensure the success of the plan.

  While trying to focus on the situation, Zach was distracted. While he was more than troubled that he had not heard from James, he was even more concerned for another member of the Haven colony – his daughter Helen.

  He thought of her, the day she was born.

  It had been one of the more joyous of his life, especially as he knew what kind of future awaited her. He knew then that he would have a long and prosperous life with her, especially once the plan had come to fruition.

  But Zach had yet to hear from his daughter.

  If they had followed protocol, the base would have been evacuated, and the various colonists shuttling to their various safe zones. After time, they would have then made their way to the other colonies.

  There were no restrictions on contact – that’s how Zach had been made aware of the evacuation and implosion. Unfortunately, no one was able to provide much detail on exactly what was happening.

  Though Zach was able to discern from the event of the previous days the probable situation.

  He had received communication from others, so he was especially concerned that he had not heard anything from Helen. He knew that he would have been the first one she contacted.

  If she was safe.

  The longer the silence, the worse Zach’s fears grew.

  He decided to contact John, to gather any further information.

  He wandered across his non-descript room. There was only a desk and a few chairs in his office. They were the only pieces of furniture he needed. James was always very specific regarding each colony. All the rooms were similarly designed, with only the required furniture in each room.

  James believed that the uniformity in design would enhance the feeling of belonging in among the Colonials. While each person had their designated tasks and designated work areas, the same features enabled the feeling of being one organism working towards a singular goal.

  Zach knew the purpose of James’ philosophy, and though he didn’t necessarily agree with his methods, they had proven effective. There had been very little, if any, dissention among the lower ranks.

  A
s he approached his desk, he turned the screen around.

  The communication program was already opened, as he had been talking to various colony leaders throughout the day.

  He pressed the Zone Four button. This would connect him with John, who was currently stationed at the Berlin colony.

  After only a few seconds, John answered.

  “Zach,” John responded quickly, “I was just about to contact you.”

  Zach was not surprised. They had been in regular contact for most of the past few hours. However, John’s announcement did give some hope to Zach. Had he heard of Helen? Had James made contact?

  Zach decided to let John run the conversation.

  “What is it?” Zach asked, his anticipation palpable.

  “I’m afraid it’s not good news Zach.” John replied, some despair on his face.

  Zach shifted his stance uncomfortably.

  “What?” was the only word Zach could muster. He began feared the worst.

  John paused, as though trying to brace his friend for some bad news, “We’ve received some footage from Haven.”

  “What is it? What does it show?”

  “Well… the infiltrators… they…”

  “They what?” asked Zach.

  “Zach,” John responded, “I hate to be the one to tell you this.”

  “What is it?” Zach asked, now frustrated by Johns pause.

  “It’s Helen…” John began.

  A wave of dread rushed through Zach.

  “What happened?” Zach asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Zach, Helen’s dead.”

  Chapter Four

  Deanna decided she needed to act. She was still in shock from the phone call she had received from the FBI. How could a quiet, normal kid from suburban Colorado turn into a mass murderer in a matter of months?

  Deanna knew that this case was now her only priority.

  The FBI had asked her to help, to contact the family and find out anything else she could.

  As such, Deanna had picked up the phone, and called Matthew’s home.

  It took a few rings, but eventually the phone as answered.

  “Hello?” said the middle-aged woman on the other end of the line.