Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  As to what caused the sudden combusting of so many, we don’t know. We have our best and brightest working around the clock to solve the mystery. This is a worldwide crisis; no country was spared. I repeat: no country was spared. This is an attack on the world, not just the U.S.A.

  At this time of our greatest need, I urge you to continue your prayers. We will get through this. We are proud, we are free, because we are America.

  Zanzi and Reid listened to the broadcast a few more times as it repeated. “Lying bastard,” Zanzi said. “‘We don’t know what caused the combusting.’ Bunch of bullshit.”

  Reid scoffed. “I don’t like the guy, but I agree with not telling the general public.”

  “Why?”

  “We had this question in ethics class. The professor asked us, if we knew that a giant meteor was on a collision course with Earth, would we tell the public if we couldn’t stop it? We had to write an essay on what we would do and why.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’d keep my mouth shut. Ignorance is bliss.”

  “Really? I’d want to know. If I knew I had, say, three weeks before it hit, I’d want that opportunity to do all the things I had neglected. Mend fractured relationships. Enjoy my favorite things. Nature, books, music. You?”

  “What would I do?”

  “Yeah. You have three weeks before the end of the world.”

  “Probably spend it on cocaine and hookers,” Reid said, grinning. He laughed, almost a giggle.

  “Idiot.” Zanzi glanced up. The traffic on the road had dwindled, but it was still too risky to leave the bakery. “Which university did you go to?”

  “Washington State. Go Cougars!”

  “Sports jock, huh?”

  “Yeah, athletics. You know something, Zanzi Connors?”

  “What?”

  “You’re a mystery. I heard Omstead say you were a scientist for LK3, but you’re extremely adept with that M4. You move and act like one of my team. Even better, in fact.”

  Zanzi turned and looked out at the street again, not wanting Reid to see the tears welling in her eyes. Even five years after Liam’s death, she still grieved for her brother. Any talk of her training brought back the memories, sometimes strongly, like now. She regained her composure and shifted her feet. “My parents are really outdoors people. We spent every summer of our childhood hiking, camping, fishing. When we were older, we hunted and did survival training. Eventually they taught us firearms and martial arts.”

  “And you became a scientist instead?”

  “I saw the looks in my parents’ eyes. They tried to hide them. Wear masks around us. But I saw through them. The pain; the horrors they’d seen. I saw it, and knew I wanted to help people, not kill them.”

  “From what I’ve seen of LK3, their core objective is to help. Sometimes killing is a necessity in our jobs. I volunteered for recon because I wanted to avoid killing, but you can’t always. It’s part of the job.”

  “For the greater good?”

  “Something like that.”

  Zanzi smiled inwardly, keeping her face calm on the outside. She liked Reid. If she admitted it, she was developing feelings for him. He was handsome. A skilled soldier. Quick-witted and cheeky in that endearing way some people had.

  She checked her rifle to distract herself from her thoughts and scanned the road outside. No vehicle had driven past in the last five minutes. “Let’s go.”

  She jumped up and jogged across the road, not waiting to see if Reid was behind her. His light footsteps told her he was there.

  Hugging the shadows, they headed north for two blocks, ears and eyes alert. Twice they had to hide as more cars cruised by. Most were heading into the city, but some, like the earlier Ford Bronco, were heading for the hills, camping gear piled high.

  The vet practice was in a smaller strip mall. Like most stores in the area, it had been looted, Front windows smashed, and pet food pulled off the shelves. It was a small place, so didn’t take them long to clear. Reid secured the back door and stood guard as Zanzi searched the consultation rooms. Whoever had looted it had been after one thing, drugs. They had ignored everything else. Cabinets had been smashed open, bottles and syringes taken. The idiots had even taken laxatives and worm tablets but left some antibiotics.

  Zanzi threw the drugs into her rucksack and grinned when she opened the last drawer. Just as Avondale had described them. The microchip readers were an odd shape: the top half a long tube about three inches in diameter, the bottom half flat, with a box housing a small screen for reading the numbers. She shoved two into her bag, along with some batteries.

  She activated her comms. “Found them. On my way.”

  “Copy that. We’re clear.”

  As Zanzi met Reid at the front door, three fighter jets screamed past. They both covered their ears as two more followed and disappeared, heading south. Four more gave chase, firing missiles.

  “What the hell?” Zanzi said once the noise had faded.

  “Those last four are Raptors. MacLeod had Raptors.”

  “Were the others foreign?”

  “They looked like F-16s, so I doubt it.”

  Another sound rumbled in the distance, this one lower in frequency, not the high-pitched scream of the jets.

  Zanzi’s radio squawked.

  “Connors. Do you copy?” Lisa said.

  “Here.”

  “I just spoke to your parents. They’re coming in. An amphibious plane. On the river.”

  “I think I can hear them.” Zanzi craned her neck and searched the sky. There was smoke to the north-west.

  “How close are you to the river?”

  “A few blocks.”

  “Get down there. Ross Island.”

  “Wilco.”

  Reid grasped her shoulder. Everything he needed to say was in the gesture. I’m here for you. Let’s go.

  He took point and angled out of the car park and jogged down the street. They had packed light, not wanting to be weighed down with anything in case they had to high-tail it out of the strip mall. The spirals of smoke became dark gray columns.

  Faster she ran. For the last few days, all Zanzi had thought about was seeing her father. Praying that he was alive. That he had found Keiko. Then she had learnt that her mother Cal was alive. Zanzi still hadn’t processed that.

  She urged her legs to speed up. Ross Island was on the other side of an open park and wooded area.

  She slid to a stop on the far side of the trees and gawked as a bright yellow and red water bomber landed in the river, sending sprays of water into the air. One engine was alight, and thick smoke poured from the other. From this distance she couldn’t make out the individuals, but she counted seven people and what appeared to be a dog leaving the plane. The figures turned and watched the plane as it became a fireball.

  Zanzi checked the vicinity and sprinted across the last grassed area. She could recognize them now. Her parents. Ryan. Tall with salt-and-pepper hair. His rucksack and the satchel he always carried. Cal, slightly shorter, and sporting a buzz cut. It was her. Her mother. The woman she thought she’d buried three years ago.

  Seventeen

  Portland, Oregon

  Something bright red from the fire shot out of the engine, hitting the wooden jetty with a sizzling thunk. Ryan came to his senses, jerking back to reality. The burning hulk of the plane had so enthralled him he’d failed to secure the area. He pivoted, brought up his carbine and ran up to the raised railway track that sat perpendicular to the river. Surely anyone with a pair of eyes would have seen their plane hurtling across the Portland skies, smoke pouring from the burning engine. OPIS operatives manning radar would know exactly where they were. Everyone would have seen.

  As soon as he crested the rise, he saw her. Zanzi. His surviving child. Though he couldn’t make out her features – her brown hair, her eyes – he just knew; a father’s instinct. She ran toward him diagonally across an open gravel area. She wore gray fatigues, complete with co
mbat vest and M4 rifle. Keeping up with her was another figure, a male, dressed the same.

  “Cal. It’s Zanzi,” Ryan said.

  His wife gasped and scrambled up the hill to join him. Ebony, Sam the dog, and the rest of The Nameless left the burning water bomber to follow.

  Ryan slowed to stop a few meters away. The words he had planned to say if he saw Zanzi again had vanished. Blood rushed in his ears, and his heart fluttered like a butterfly flapping its wings. The assured, staunch, confident man disappeared, replaced by a father. A father wracked with guilt. Guilt over running away, leaving his flesh and blood to suffer on her own.

  All other sounds, sights and scents vanished. Ryan’s entire focus and being was centered on the woman standing three meters away. As he took another step forward, he dropped his arms to his sides. Another step, and his eyes met hers.

  She smiled. Not just with her lips, but with her entire body. Her eyes twinkled and her posture changed, like she’d been bottling everything away and simply seeing him had released all her fear and anxiety.

  Another step forward.

  Zanzi squealed and leapt into his arms. He held her, fearful this was a dream. That none of this was real. That he had died on Mount Koya, along with everyone else.

  “Dad,” Zanzi said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ryan said. “I should never have left.”

  “None of that matters now. You’re here.” Her voice choking up.

  “It matters because I feel I betrayed you. You were suffering too.”

  Zanzi squeezed him harder and kissed his cheek. “I forgive you.”

  They clung to each other, ignoring the others. For a few precious seconds, the world was normal. OPIS hadn’t vaporized seventy percent of the population, and enemies weren’t trying to kill them.

  Ryan blinked open his eyes. The man who was with Zanzi had his back turned to them, watching their six. Booth and Allie had taken up similar positions.

  Cal stepped forward.

  Zanzi stiffened and broke the embrace. “Why, Mom?”

  Cal remained silent. Tears coated her cheeks as her blue eyes took in her daughter. “To protect you all.”

  “Protect us? From what?”

  “This. All of this.”

  “And how did that work out for you? We buried you in the ground. I… I…” Zanzi spun, turning, and looked at Ryan. “This is Reid.”

  The two men acknowledged each other with curt nods. Ryan quickly made introductions as Keiko ran forward and hugged her childhood friend.

  “I hate to break up this little reunion, but we got company,” Booth said. “Two groups coming in from the north and south-west. It’s our friendly Siphons.”

  Ryan shouldered his carbine and squinted through the scope. From the rambling way the figures walked, Booth’s assessment was correct. Just like in Japan, Anchorage and Prince Rupert. These were hairless, with the requisite ivory skin crisscrossed with red slashes. Some were naked. Some still had clothing on, suits, jeans, running gear. They were still four hundred meters away.

  “Siphons?” Reid said. He looked through his scope. “Ah. We call them Rabids.”

  “The safe house isn’t far,” Zanzi said. “We’ll have to be careful not to be seen, though. Lots of citizens moving about today.”

  “Our specialty,” Booth said.

  Ryan gave orders. “Reid, Zanzi, you’ve got point. Keiko in the middle. Booth and Allie, take up the rear.”

  The Nameless regrouped and took up their natural positions, a move made slick from years working as a unit. Ryan and Cal, normally the scouts, slotted in behind Reid and Zanzi. Ebony and Keiko, who had taken a shine to each other, came next, while Sam, tail wagging, trotted beside Sofia in the middle.

  Reid steered them south-east, back through a quarry and into a thickly wooded area. Once they were out of sight of the Siphons, they paused. Traffic noise filtered through the trees. First one Humvee drove past, then another, followed by several SUVs and other military vehicles. All heading for the houseboats and the burning water bomber.

  Once they were clear, Reid turned north-east and quickened his pace.

  Like all LK3 agents, Ryan knew the location of all the safe houses by heart. Some were just that – a house, hiding in plain view in a suburban street. To a casual observer, they were occupied by a professional couple. Others were in office buildings, disguised as accounting firms or data storage units. Weathertop, where they were headed, was something else. Not just somewhere to hide, it was a backup headquarters. The tech teams had kitted it out with every technological device needed, with Avondale making regular updates as software became more advanced.

  Reid waved them back against the side of the shop. “Roadblock,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  They backtracked, walked south-west for a block, and circled around to approach Weathertop from the other side.

  Another roadblock.

  Ryan crouched and risked a peek. The men wore National Guard uniforms, but their weapons gave them away: Heckler & Koch. Three Humvees were parked across the road, and six guards milled about. Every now and then, they would pause their pacing and chat amongst themselves.

  Ryan took point and they backtracked around another block, into a sprawling residential property. He took a seat on the back-patio furniture.

  “Damn,” Reid said. “Maybe they saw Zanzi and me earlier and are hedging their bets for our return?”

  “We were quiet, though,” Zanzi said.

  “Can I have your radio?” Ryan asked.

  Zanzi handed it to him.

  “Avondale. Ryan. OPIS have set up roadblocks. We can’t approach the normal entrances. We’ll have to come in through the private clinics. What can you see?”

  “One moment. Okay, they’re patrolling as well. If you cut across the park near the clinics, I’ll guide you once they go by.”

  “Copy that.”

  Ryan clipped the radio to his combat vest and looked at his daughter. “Has it always been like this?”

  “Nothing like this, but the president did make an announcement in the last hour or so for everyone to move to the city center. We saw some people leaving the city with camping gear. We were on a mission to a vet’s practice and the streets were empty. The burning plane you flew in on has probably spooked them too.”

  Ryan looked around at the group. He was sure they all felt as bad as he did: dirty, covered in soot and sweat, tired, hungry, and nerves frayed from the constant adrenaline flooding their system as they fought Siphons and Black Skulls. He shivered, his mind returning to the Tomari Nuclear Power Plant and the horrors Ando and his team had dreamed up; the wolf-like creatures and the poor souls locked away in the cells.

  With Avondale’s help, they managed to avoid the patrols and get into a building adjacent to the safe house. Here, the offices of dentists, plastic surgeons and optometrists were all owned by LK3 as a front. Only once they were in the safe house did Ryan relax. He slumped into the first chair he saw, shrugged out of his heavy gear and rolled his tired shoulders and neck. He looked up and focused on the gathered knot of people crowding into the common area, most of whom he didn’t recognize. Children and adults.

  A young woman with frizzy brown hair ran to Zanzi and hugged her. He smiled as Zanzi hugged her back. The pair walked over to him. “Dad, this is Tilly.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ryan said.

  “You too,” Tilly said. Her voice had a bounce to it, like she was forcing it to sound happy.

  “Zanzi. You made it.” Another woman hugged his daughter. She had long dark hair, almost to her waist, and he noted her face was covered in bruises, her left eye swollen shut.

  “Hi, Jolene. How are the kids?”

  “Resilient and doing well.”

  Ryan turned his attention away and glanced up. Standing on the stairs, hands on her hips, her graying hair tied into a bun, was Director Lisa Omstead. She walked down the last few steps.

  “Connors. You stubborn son of a bitch.”


  “Omstead. Sorry I’m late.” He pushed up off the chair, sighing from the effort, and embraced his old boss and friend. “I suppose you want a debrief.”

  “Aye. Rest first, eat something, and for Pete’s sake take a shower.”

  Lisa held him at arm’s length and turned her gaze to Cal. “And you. You have a lot of explaining to do. You’re lucky we’re not CIA. They aren’t so lenient. If we weren’t in a crisis, I’d have you locked up.”

  “You can relax,” Cal said. “My loyalties haven’t changed.”

  Lisa’s face was a mask. She stared at Cal for several moments before walking away to converse with Sofia, Booth and Allie. Ebony shook Lisa’s hand and caught Ryan watching. She nodded. They had made it back. Despite everything OPIS had thrown at them, they had made it back home. Now they just had to stay alive long enough to kill Offenheim.

  ***

  After The Nameless had rested, they met with Lisa and Avondale in the briefing room. Ryan caught Booth’s attention. Booth had styled his hair and was dressed in his favored jeans and shirt. “Any luck with Rita and the kids?”

  “Nothing,” Booth said.

  “She still taking your calls?”

  “We’re on good terms. She has family in Michigan. I’ll keep trying.”

  “Allie?”

  “Nothing either.”

  Ryan nodded. “If you guys need any help, let me know.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  Allie, Sofia, Cal, Ebony, Zanzi, Reid and Jolene all wore gray fatigues. They shuffled to their seats and settled in.

  Lisa accepted a PowerPoint remote from Avondale and turned to face everyone.

  “First off, I want to thank you all for committing to what I can only imagine is going to be a monumental task. I’m sure, like me, you’re still processing the magnitude of that Wednesday. The sheer audacity, the scope. Everything.” She coughed to clear her throat. “In the past, we always knew who our enemies were. During the world wars, it was Germany, Italy, Japan. Then it was Communism and the Cold War with Russia. Recently it has been terrorists, fundamentalists and extremists.”