Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  He felt it too. They were just a small group. Small, maybe, but sometimes the smallest of factors can make the biggest difference.

  Twenty-Five

  The Eyrie, Sierra Nevada Mountains

  Fine shards of dull glass littered the desk and the luxurious carpet, and tiny fragments were everywhere. In between the thick pile loops, in the potted plants, embedded in the drywall. Offenheim sat frozen, gasping for breath as he calmed down. How could LK3 just disappear? One moment, their signals had been blinking in Portland. The next…gone!

  He knew Milo hadn’t killed them or else the tracking app would’ve confirmed it. And Milo’s signal was active, blinking from across the street.

  LK3 was the proverbial thorn in his side.

  There was a light tap on his office door. “Sir?”

  It was Killian. Offenheim sighed and looked at the destruction. “Enter.”

  Killian ignored the pieces of shattered computer monitors and kept his eyes firmly on his boss. “We have made some progress with our project.”

  “Why didn’t you just phone me?”

  “I wanted to tell you in person and show you, but… I see that was a mistake. Problem, sir?”

  Offenheim waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing of your concern. What’s your news, Killian?”

  “I have a team with one of the subjects in a town down the valley. I’ve managed to control him the same as in the lab.”

  Offenheim raised an eyebrow. Maybe this day would improve after all. “Excellent, show me.”

  Ten minutes later, they were down in Killian’s lab. Killian adjusted the image on the computer screens so they could see his team, positioned in a parked van. The subject had been dressed in hiking gear, complete with sunglasses, hat and rucksack. From a distance, he appeared normal, just another lost soul who had wandered into the town, seeking refuge.

  OPIS had left this small town alone. No interference. The day after the combusting, the surviving townspeople had begun to leave their houses. A few days later they had banded together, moved into the same street and constructed defenses. Smart. Already they were preparing, thinking ahead. But nothing had come. No militia or bandits had attacked. Scouts had left to forage in bigger cities and returned with supplies. Offenheim had instructed that all flights to and from The Eyrie use the other side of the mountain. As far as the townsfolk knew, they were alone.

  “Proceed, Killian,” Offenheim said.

  The subject jolted slightly and changed direction, his pace quickening. A group of the townsfolk were welding steel plates onto a gate. A couple of armed men looked up and shouted something. There was no audio, but Offenheim could see their lips moving. When the subject failed to stop, they raised their rifles.

  He broke into a sprint, shrugging out of his rucksack. The armed men fired, spraying bullets at the subject. But he dodged left and right, gobbling up the distance between them in seconds.

  Offenheim had witnessed a lot of brutality during his life, but nothing prepared him for what he saw next. The subject slid under one of the armed men, jabbed a knife up under his chin, and wrenched it backward, taking the lower jaw with it. Arcs of blood spurted in a torrent. The second armed man shot the subject several times, but he shrugged the bullets off as if they were a mere annoyance. Using the same knife, the subject sliced that man’s stomach, sloshing his intestines to the ground.

  The men busy welding rushed over and jabbed the still-burning acetylene torches against the subject’s head. Again the subject shrugged them off, dispatching them with quick stabs to the sides of their necks.

  The attack was over in less than a minute.

  Killian clicked his mouse, and the subject ran off, heading out of town. Seconds later, the van followed.

  “How?”

  Killian swiveled in his chair to face Offenheim. “The issue was the alpha nanites’ ability to receive data packets. They were only ever designed to receive one command – to self-destruct or activate. But as you know, ours are different.”

  Killian brought up an image of an alpha nanite on the screen. At first glance, it looked like a spider with abnormally long legs. It was a fact that, in much of their work, OPIS had been inspired by nature. Insects, for example, like the army ants, that form living, moving bridges. Or fire ants that, when their nests are flooded, form rafts and float away, surviving to rebuild.

  Killian explained to his boss that at its core, the alpha nanite was programmed to behave in the same way. When the correct signal was received, individual nanites clustered to form a giant alpha nanite, which bridged the gap between the body and the worker nanites. Much like an insect colony works, a hive mind, where each member of the group has a specific job to form the whole.

  “Our nanites are designed to be updated regularly, but they still don’t have enough processing power to take the required data,” Killian said.

  “What did you do?”

  “We created next-gen nanites that fuse to the existing alpha nanite. They have the ability to receive the commands.”

  “Brilliant.” Offenheim stood and began pacing, his arms behind his back. He and Killian had discussed another idea many times over the years, the real reason for this research.

  “Will it be ready for the OPIS summit?”

  “Already started production. Sir, if we are to do this to the founding families, we’re going to need a powerful signal. And they’ll need the next-gen nanites.”

  “That can be arranged. The meeting is scheduled in Hong Kong in a month. You have three weeks. Carry on, Killian. Excellent work.”

  Offenheim left the lab and went straight up to the roof. Here, he could be on his own, escape the suffocating pressure he always felt. It weighed heavily on him, gnawing away at his sense of peace. He was focused on achieving his dream of ridding the world of overpopulation and creating a society where science and academia were valued more highly. It wasn’t a utopia. In his mind, it was how the world should be. All animals, even humans, living in harmony. He smirked. Perhaps the hippies had had it right, in a way. Offenheim still wanted to hunt and to fish. He still wanted humans to be the apex predator. What he didn’t want was for them to bleed Earth dry until it couldn’t support them anymore. If that was being a hippy, then so be it. For years he had struggled to understand why people ignored what was happening around them but, in the end, OPIS had used this to their advantage.

  He stood under his pagoda and smiled at the beauty of the mountains. It was his goal to preserve beauty. Yes, I suppose I am a hippy at heart.

  Now that his head was clear, he took out his phone and dialed a number. It was picked up after two rings.

  “Why aren’t they dead?”

  “I was surprised,” Milo said.

  “Surprised how? You’re infused with the best nanites available. We trained you in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. I’ve seen you take down Navy SEALs, Rangers, SAS operatives. Do I need to remind you that I hate failure?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then explain to me, so I can understand, how a retired woman and her tech support are not only still breathing, but their signals have disappeared.”

  “They had something. A woman. She was fast. Super-fast.”

  “Something. You mean with nanites?”

  “All I know is her fighting skills were exceptional. I stabbed her in places where normal people would die. She shrugged them off and kept fighting.”

  Where had this mysterious woman come from? Had she come in with The Nameless? That had to be it. Yamada! It was the only logical explanation. Somehow, The Nameless had found his pet project and convinced her to join them.

  He sighed. He knew about Yamada and all the rest. Everyone had attempted to create super soldiers. He had managed to eliminate most of them and shut down the projects. He’d always suspected Yamada of continuing to operate in secret. Now he had proof.

  Was she a liability? Maybe he should change tack?

  No, he wouldn’t do that. He had a specific plan for the Co
nnors.

  “Track them the old-fashioned way,” Offenheim said. “Keep out of sight. Do not engage. If they separate, follow the director.”

  “Understood.”

  “One other thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Daniel Kummerow’s cabin. It was empty when we searched it. Do you know where they could be?”

  “No. I was hunting for them when you gave me new orders. The cabin was where I was heading.”

  Offenheim hung up and watched an eagle follow a thermal high above the valley. First, Milo had failed to eliminate the director. Then the loss of Doctor Josie Lahm. Parker still had to explain why The Nameless could want Lahm so badly they risked an extraction.

  Offenheim looked once more at the mountains. He wished more than ever that he was seeing the mountains of his birthplace, the Austrian Alps.

  Twenty-Six

  Near Mount Hood, Oregon

  For the first time in over three years, Ryan sat at a table eating a meal with his family. Him, his wife and his daughter. Just the three of them. He had cooked his go-to meal, spaghetti bolognese. They had left the safe house in Portland twelve hours ago for the LK3 headquarters.

  Seeing the once-modern, stylish exterior of glass and concrete of the headquarters, now a burnt-out ruin, had shocked him. Debris had been shifted into piles on the lawn. The top three floors had collapsed onto the lower floors. Lisa had guided them inside the underground parking garage and shown them the hidden entry. It was brilliant. Tucked away behind fake propane tanks, the platform the tanks sat on slid away into a wall cavity, and the concrete door behind it swung open. They had driven inside the old Cold War silo and parked in the cavernous space beyond. It had a fully equipped workshop, storerooms and, deep underground, living quarters. Where the missile had once been was now a water reservoir, filled to the halfway point.

  Cal finished her meal and made them all green tea. “It’s time I addressed the elephant in the room.”

  “I agree,” Zanzi said. “Three years, Mom. Three years!” She blew out a breath, relieving some of her frustration. “How do you think I felt, what I went through?”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Cal said.

  “No, I don’t think you do know. How could you? You didn’t watch Dad crumble, give up on his work and retreat. You didn’t see me crying every night as I looked at your picture, or thought I saw you walking down the hallway to the bathroom.” Zanzi slammed her cup down and glared at Cal. “You didn’t see Sofia coming over every day to check up on us. You didn’t see her cleaning, putting away the dishes. Cooking, paying the bills. She had buried her best friend, but still she looked after your family while we grieved.”

  “I know you’re angry, Zanzi. Please, just let me explain.”

  “There is no explanation. I was in The Eyrie too. Alba tortured me, the same as you. Tilly, God only knows how long she was there and what she was subjected to. The whole time, my only thought was escape, how I could bring them down.”

  Cal shifted in her chair. “And didn’t you say Milo offered you a way out.”

  “Yeah, he did, but I still had to fight. I had to kill Alba, I…” Zanzi blinked as tears fell down her cheeks, and she sank her head into her hands. “I killed someone in cold blood. I went down to her lab with all the intention of murdering her, and I did. Me, the girl who wanted to save and help people, not kill. That’s what I did so I could escape and find Dad.”

  Ryan looked between his wife and daughter. He understood both points of view. He had been in the headspace Zanzi now found herself in – betrayed, confused, and angry. He had learnt over the years that you can’t change how someone acts, but you can change the way you react to them. Walk a mile in their shoes.

  “Hear your mother out, Zanzi,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

  “Fine.”

  Cal mouthed a “thank you” at him, then caught and held her daughter’s gaze. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. Only understanding. I figured that I could take down OPIS and that I had to be on the inside to do it. Offenheim wanted me to be an operative. When I refused, he demonstrated how he could have you all eliminated.”

  “How?”

  “Lisa’s husband.”

  “The plane crash?”

  “Right. It wasn’t an accident. Offenheim, the sick bastard, even had a camera hidden in the cockpit. He made me watch as Lisa’s husband struggled with the controls before crashing into the Alaskan wilderness.”

  “How did they sabotage his plane?” Ryan asked.

  “A local EMP device. It fried everything.”

  Zanzi looked up, tears still in her eyes. “Three years! Couldn’t you have least given us a sign that you were alive? A message?”

  “And then what?” Cal said. “You would’ve fought tooth and nail to find me, all of you. Booth, Sofia too. No. I knew the pain I was causing; my only thought was to take them down. Like Milo did for you, Touma Yamada offered me a way out. But he told me of the grand plan too late. I brought The Nameless in to help. Your father being in Japan worked in our favor. Somehow, Offenheim got wind of what was happening and brought OPIS’s plans forward by two years.” Cal sipped her tea and reached out, taking her daughter’s hand. “You see, I did it to protect you all until I knew that it was okay to approach you. It was me who made sure you were on the safe list. Your number, hidden amongst millions, buried deep in terabytes of data.”

  Ryan zoned out from the discussion and stretched his legs under the table. He hated being stuck underground, but until Sofia, Lahm and Avondale could figure out how they were being tracked, they were stuck here. The Cold War silo was painted in mustard green, which suggested to him the designers had wanted the men and women stationed here to go insane. Everything was the same color – walls, doors, ceilings, even the kitchen cupboards.

  “Dad?” Zanzi said. “Are you listening?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “I asked how you forgave Mom.”

  Ryan blew out a breath. “It was hard, I’m not going to lie. At the end of the day, I figured that I didn’t want to live in the past anymore. I’ve done too much of that. Since Liam’s death, I’d lived in the past. Your mom did what she thought was right. You’ve seen how OPIS operates, how ruthless they can be. Do you know how they broke your mother?”

  “She doesn’t need to hear that,” Cal said.

  “I think it would help her understand.”

  “Tell me,” Zanzi said flatly.

  Cal sighed. “Alba placed me in a clear Perspex tank and filled it with millions of ants. I held out for as long as I could, but the weeks of torture finally caught up to me. I gave in, but I still held a fragment of myself. I still had you and Ryan held firmly in my mind.”

  Zanzi and Cal embraced, tears flowed, and kisses were exchanged. Ryan bit the inside of his lip and hugged them both. Offenheim had caused his family so much pain. It was time to end it. Right the wrongs and stop his madness.

  The Connors finished their meal in silence. Later, Tilly, Keiko and Sam joined them, with the golden labrador moving around, sneaking any treats he could find. Ryan ruffled his ears as the group played cards. Laughter filled the room, smiles returning as Ryan taught everyone how to play Euchre.

  Tilly slammed down the Jack of Hearts, winning the points. She was a quick study. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  Ryan glanced at Cal and shrugged.

  “What?” Zanzi finally said.

  “Why is it called a murder of crows?”

  Keiko giggled and shook her head. “It’s a collective noun for them. I actually don’t know why.”

  “Maybe because people associate crows with evil or something?” Zanzi suggested.

  “Back in medieval times, crows were thought to be agents of witchcraft,” Ryan said. He liked Tilly. She had a natural inquisitiveness, and underneath the laughter and questions was a fierce intelligence. He smiled at Tilly. “Do you know what they call a group of rhino?”

  “No, what?”

>   “A crash.”

  Tilly chuckled for a few seconds before erupting into laughter that came from deep in her belly. “What about elephants?”

  “A parade.”

  More laughter from Tilly. She dropped her cards and they scattered all over the floor. Soon everyone was laughing, the game of Euchre forgotten.

  Ryan looked at Cal. She had a wide smile, something he hadn’t seen since they were reunited. The Nameless had a week to prepare for the mission. They needed this. Time out. Space to feel some semblance of normality.

  ***

  Zanzi and Tilly walked the halls and rooms of the silo. It was an impressive structure, though the paintwork was faded and worn. The walls were solid concrete and thick enough to withstand a nuclear strike. The pair ambled down long curving corridors, through sleeping quarters and stores. There were still waterproof containers leftover from the Cold War. Everything was clearly labeled and stacked neatly on shelves. Food, medicine, batteries and clothing.

  They eventually found themselves back in the communication center and paused at the door. Lisa had earlier called a meeting for 2100 hours to discuss the mission to The Eyrie.

  Zanzi glanced at her watch. They had ten minutes to kill.

  Tilly pulled back on Zanzi’s arm. “I’m scared to go back to The Eyrie.”

  “It’s okay to be afraid. In fact, it’s good to be. Fear makes us careful. You can always stay here with Avondale, Ebony and Keiko.”

  “What will they be doing?”

  “We call them Mission Control. They keep tabs on us, warn the ground teams of any enemy movements.” Zanzi shivered, thinking of the satellite installation. “You can be my extra eyes and ears.”

  Tilly shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. About how my parents died in Mexico and how I was put into foster care. More memories come back every day.” She looked away and sat down on the floor. “They promised us everything we wanted. Help us, and when the tests are finished, we’ll take you anywhere you want to go. That’s what they said.”