Masks of Ash

by Adrian J. Smith

  Milo glanced over his shoulder at the Humvees. He had perhaps twenty seconds to get away, but that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He knew the Black Skulls. They wouldn’t give up until he was either caught or they were ordered to stop. So he did what they least expected: he drove straight at them, playing chicken, confident he would survive any collision. Faster he roared toward the Black Skulls, closer and closer.

  At the last second, two of the Humvee drivers flinched and slid into stacked piles of lumber, sending splinters and planks flying. But the last Humvee kept its course. Ten feet out, Milo swerved and flew past. Bullets shattered the windows and thumped into the bodywork of the Dodge Challenger. He ignored them and kept driving.

  The Black Skulls chased him through town. From car park to car park, through empty lots, down abandoned streets. Still they pursued him. Milo needed the open road of the interstate, where he could exploit the Challenger’s superior speed. He threw the big muscle car around corners, going left and right attempting to shake the Humvees off. At last he spotted a sign for the freeway and floored the accelerator, urging the car on.

  As he sped past an electrical substation, he was blindsided by one of the Humvees, the force enough to shunt him into the air. When he hit the ground, the tires gripped the road and the car jolted, bouncing and slamming through the substation’s fence.

  The Dodge Challenger came to a crashing halt hard up against a transformer. Blue sparks zapped off the car and electricity coursed through Milo as he pushed open the door. He gasped. The pain was like a billion hot needles jabbing into his brain. Time had no meaning, sounds and sights blurred. Before he blacked out, he swore he recognized the tall, muscular figure shaking his head. But he couldn’t be certain. He didn’t know up from down. He shut his eyes and thought of the prison he should have rotted in years ago as the pain lifted.

  Milo rubbed the back of his neck and sat up. Several Black Skulls stood around him, guns ready but, crucially, not pointing directly at him. He shook the groggy, fuzzy feeling from his head.

  “Why did you go and do that?”

  Milo recognized the Black Skull now. Gabe.

  “You guys fired on me.”

  “Well, you went for your weapon,” Gabe said.

  Milo shook his head and held one hand up while taking his phone out of his pocket. “I was going to call Offenheim and clear up this whole misunderstanding.”

  Gabe stepped back so that he stood slightly behind the other Black Skulls. “Stand down, everyone. Oz, help Milo to his feet.”

  Milo accepted Oz’s help and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He rolled his shoulders and worked out the kink in his neck. Electricity still tingled over his skin.

  Gabe pulled him toward one of the Humvees and stared at him. “What’s going on, Milo?” He kept his voice low. “I’ve known you for ten years and never seen you act like that.”

  “It’s this mission I’m on.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s got me paranoid as hell.”

  “The faction?”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “You know how soldiers talk. After that hospital was raided the other night, everyone’s jittery. Orders coming from everywhere. Do this, do that. Stop doing that and do this. We’re all confused.”

  Milo nodded. “Look, Offenheim’s got me looking for those responsible for that attack. At the same time, I’m trying to infiltrate the faction, if it even exists. I don’t understand why he sent you looking for me.”

  Gabe sighed. “All I know is that we were told to find you. To bring you in. Parker and Killian are going to take you back to The Eyrie.”

  “Huh?”

  “That was my feeling,” Gabe said.

  “I’m close,” Milo said. “LK3’s around here somewhere. I can feel it.”

  “The group we attacked a few weeks back?” Gabe smiled. “Their HQ isn’t far.”

  As soon as Gabe uttered the words, Milo groaned. Of course that was where they’d gone. He had been so blind, so stupid. His failed attempt to talk with the director had thrown him off his game. Everything he had read and studied about her, and he had missed it. Of course she would have a bunker or hideout at LK3 headquarters. It all made perfect sense now. Hide in plain sight.

  He looked back at Gabe. “I could use some help. I have to keep searching.”

  “They’re not going to let you go. They’re loyal to Parker.”

  “I know.” Milo inclined his head with the slightest of movements.

  “I can’t do what you ask.”

  “Remember that favor you owe me? I’m calling it in.”

  Gabe cursed under his breath. “You wouldn’t. If I kill you, the secret dies with you.”

  Working for Stasi, and then Offenheim, had taught Milo that knowledge was a weapon. Intel on those you worked with was just as important as intel on your enemies. Gabe only had one sister. A sister with Down’s Syndrome. In the eyes of OPIS, not worthy to advance humanity. Gabe, with Amelia’s assistance, had made sure she survived the combusting and was safe in Denver.

  “Think, Gabe,” Milo said. “If I don’t log into my server every night, all my files go straight to Offenheim.”

  Gabe glared at him for a minute, then slipped him a Glock and turned. He walked over to the other Humvee and used the radio, speaking rapidly. The other Black Skulls kept their focus on Milo, guns ready, but again not aimed at him.

  Pop… Pop… Pop.

  Three Black Skulls dropped in quick succession, gunshot wounds to the head. The fourth commando dived to his right and landed on his side. He twisted and fired at Gabe. Milo ran forward, shot him twice in the leg, then scored with a shot to the neck. The commando dropped his gun to grasp at the wound. Milo whispered an apology, then shot him twice in the head.

  He jogged over to Gabe and helped him to his feet. Gabe had taken three bullets to his side. He grimaced as he glanced at the fallen men.

  “I’ll tell them the faction rescued you.” His eyes were downcast as he looked away. “We’re even now.”

  “Even,” Milo agreed.

  Gabe ignored him and began to pull the men off the road. Milo grabbed the legs, and together they hoisted the body into the back seat of one of the Humvees. They repeated the process with all the fallen Black Skulls.

  “What now?” Milo said.

  “Just get out of here before I change my mind about bringing you in.”

  “Having doubts?”

  Gabe shrugged. “Don’t we all?”

  “Every damn day.”

  Gabe pulled out a cigar and chewed on the end. “I grew up in a pretty rough area of Boston. Bunch of wannabe gangsters. Half the neighborhood was Irish, and the other half Hispanic. Never got on. To try and save me from becoming a statistic, my mother sent me to the Catholic Church to sing in the choir. Right from the outset, I knew something was off with the priest. I told my father about it. He said to trust my instincts.” Gabe lifted his shirt to check his wounds. “But I didn’t listen. My father was right, I should have. The priest was a pedophile. Other times since and now this time, I’ve decided to listen to my instincts. Complete your mission, Milo. I’ll take care of this mess.”

  Gabe hopped into a Humvee, waved, and drove away without another word. Milo watched as the Humvee shrank in the distance before he turned around slowly and tried to orientate himself.

  A calmness came over him. He now knew what he wanted to do. LK3 was the key.

  Twenty-Nine

  Near Mount Hood, Oregon

  The week preparing for their mission passed quickly for Zanzi. She and Cal were talking now, catching up, reconnecting. But it was tough. Her mother’s betrayal ran so deep that, just when she thought she might be able to move on, an old memory would surface and remind Zanzi of the pain. Not just her own, but what she had seen her father go through. How do you pick up the pieces? How do you return to the way things were?

  She couldn’t. Nothing was the same. She had grown up, moved on. For that matter,
the world had changed. Now, everywhere she turned, there she was – her mother, Cal, back from the dead. All this time, she had been working for OPIS.

  “Zanzi?” Tilly said. She jammed a fresh magazine into the MP5. “You okay?”

  “Sorry. Thinking about my mom.” Zanzi glanced up at the target, halfway down the firing range. Her focus over the past few days had been on training Tilly, who was determined to go to The Eyrie. Ryan had objected, but Zanzi had backed her up. She, like everyone, deserved her chance at closure.

  “Are you still upset at Cal?” Tilly asked.

  “A little, yeah.”

  “Almost every day I wish I could see my mother again. See her smile. Smell her hair. It always had the scent of frangipanis, like the tree outside my grandparents’ house in Jamaica. I would give anything to eat her weird food. Pancakes drenched in maple syrup and covered in powdered sugar and cream.” Tilly smiled. “She was always encouraging my sister and me to explore and invent our own adventures and games. Use our imaginations.”

  “She sounds like an amazing mother.”

  “What was Cal like when you were young?”

  Zanzi shook her head. She didn’t want to get into memories of her childhood with Tilly. Cal had been a loving mother. More than she could ever have wished for. She was firm but fair. Sure, like every teenage girl she’d butted heads with her mother over everything from music to the clothes she wore. “Finish your training session. Tomorrow’s the big day.”

  Tilly nestled the submachine gun into her shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The MP5 rattled as it spat out the three-round burst. She flicked the safety back on and pulled the paper target back along the wire to inspect it.

  “Not bad. A definite improvement,” Zanzi said. Tilly had managed to place all three shots in the chest area. They were spread but given that at the beginning of the week she would yelp whenever the gun fired, this was a massive improvement.

  “What about head shots?” Tilly said.

  “Forget about those. Always aim for the center mass. There’s a much bigger chance of hitting your target,” Zanzi said. “Secure your weapon.”

  Tilly complied, ejecting the magazine and the round that was in the chamber. She slung the weapon over her shoulder.

  “Better,” Zanzi said. “A few things to always remember. When we come under fire, stay down. No heroics. Watch your field of fire. When you must reload, do so from a protected area and do it fast.”

  “Okay. Stay down and no heroics. Got it.”

  Zanzi and Tilly left the firing range and returned to one of the workshops. They cleaned and oiled their weapons. Ryan had asked his daughter to train Tilly with the sub machine gun since their primary mission was inside The Eyrie and the MP5 was perfect for close-quarter fighting. After stowing them in their gear bags, they headed topside. The clean forest air, laced with the heavy scents of pine and fir, made a welcome change from the stale, filtered oxygen inside the silo. Two days ago, Avondale, Sofia and Lahm had successfully overridden the tracking ability of their alpha nanites, and Lisa had okayed short visits outside. Zanzi and Tilly found a mossy log to sit on and remained silent for some time, listening to the opera of nature. The birds calling to each other, insects as they buzzed past. The trees creaking as their limbs rubbed together. For a moment, Zanzi could imagine that this was how it must have been before the old world found the new. Nature, moving in its cycles like it had for thousands of years.

  Sam bounded over, his tail wagging as he sniffed the ground. He too was enjoying being back in nature.

  “I feel like my stomach is tying itself in knots,” Tilly said staring into the forest.

  “That’s a good thing.”

  Tilly clutched at her abdomen. “I don’t see how.”

  “Pre-mission nerves. That fear keeps you sharp.” Zanzi smiled, doing her best to calm her friend. She had to remind herself that this was all new to Tilly. She should have allowed for it in her training. “Talk it out. What’s on your mind?”

  “When we left The Eyrie, I hoped I’d never see that place again. Now, I’m going back.”

  “But this time you have a purpose. To find out where they took your sister.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s natural to be scared, Tilly. Remember, there’s no obligation for you to come.”

  “I know.”

  “When the Black Skulls were chasing Lisa and me through the forest, there were times when I thought the fear would overwhelm me but having the director next to me kept me going.” Zanzi grasped Tilly’s shoulder. “I’ll be there with you.”

  Tilly nodded. “I guess I’m scared of dying too.”

  “Hold on to that. Use it to keep going.”

  “What do you believe happens when we die?” Tilly said. “My mom said we go to heaven, but only if we’re good people. If we’re bad, then we go to hell, where the devil pokes our bottoms with a hot poker.” She giggled. “That’s where I hope Alba is. Getting her bottom poked.”

  “I don’t know, Tilly. I really don’t.”

  “You don’t believe in heaven?”

  “It’s not that I don’t. I guess I’m just not sure. It’s nice to think that after we die, we go to this wondrous place and see all our loved ones again, but the scientist part of me questions it.”

  “You can still be a scientist and have faith,” Tilly said.

  Zanzi blinked. This was the most profound statement Tilly had ever made. And she was right. One could have faith and pursue science. “I read a Buddhist theory once. It said to think of yourself like a wave in the ocean. You have form, structure, a purpose. Slowly you move toward the shore and crash against it. Much like death, you dissipate and lose that form. That structure and that purpose. Have you gone?”

  Tilly shook her head. “No.”

  “Exactly. You’re still there. You’ve returned to the place you came from. Become part of it again.”

  Zanzi and Tilly fell silent once more, each enjoying the other’s company. Lisa had scheduled a final debrief before they split up and pushed toward The Eyrie. A sense of peace cloaked Zanzi. Maybe it was remembering the wave story. Or maybe she knew that whatever happened next, they had a purpose. A mission to fulfill.

  Sam suddenly went still and stopped his incessant sniffing. His head cocked to one side and his tail flattened. Zanzi drew her Glock and swept the immediate area. Birds and insects still moved and chatted, but something had spooked Sam. He was still, unmoving apart from his nose twitching.

  Zanzi activated her comms. “This is Zanzi. I’m topside with Tilly. Are the motion sensors or cameras picking up on anything? Sam’s acting strange.”

  “Negative,” Avondale said.

  “Copy that.”

  Zanzi kept her eyes firmly on the tree line, her finger resting on the trigger guard. “Tilly, let’s go inside.”

  As the pair stood, a lone figure emerged from the trees. Zanzi recognized him immediately – Brock, the Multnomah Indian who had helped her and Lisa after HQ was attacked. Her heart leapt. Kamal appeared next and waved as the pair approached. Sam ran over, tail wagging but silent. Maybe he sensed they were friends.

  Zanzi closed the gap between them and hugged Brock. “Good to see you made it.” She embraced Kamal next. Using American Sign Language, she repeated her words.

  “Good to see you as well, Zanzi Connors,” Brock said.

  Zanzi introduced Tilly and switched on her radio. “Avondale. You need to improve your security system. Brock and Kamal are here.”

  Avondale chuckled over the airwaves. “Director said they were coming. I’m on it. Don’t want Black Skulls ruining the party.”

  Zanzi turned back to the two Multnomah Indians. “How are your people?”

  “About the same as out here,” Brock said. “We lost about half, maybe more. Those who survived left their houses and went into the forest. I suspected that if Lisa had survived, she would contact us, so Kamal and I hung around. C’mon. Inside to do the talking. Then we can go and catch bad
guys.”

  ***

  The briefing room was packed. Lisa, Ryan, Cal, Zanzi and Tilly sat on the left of the big table. Avondale, Keiko, Ebony and Lahm were at a cluster of computer equipment. Allie, Booth and Reid sat at the foot of the table, while on the right was Sigma team: Sofia and the two new additions, Brock and Kamal. Murmurs of conversation settled over the group.

  Lisa whistled to get everyone’s attention and clicked her PowerPoint remote. “This is the latest image we have of The Eyrie.”

  The picture on the screen showed the satellite installation, which looked pretty much as Ryan remembered it: a large square building nestled between the mountains, surrounded by dishes, radio masts and other telecommunication equipment. What was new was the presence of the Army farther down the valley, about five kilometers away. Ryan counted six Apache helicopters and a dozen Humvees with men walking around. The road that led off the mountain and down from The Eyrie had a roadblock across it, attended by several more Humvees. Their mission had become a lot tougher. Not impossible, but the room for error was next to nothing.

  “Despite what you see,” Lisa said, “we still go ahead. We have three days before OPIS flicks the switch again.” She paused and took a few sips of water. “We all leave at zero-four-hundred hours. Munroe is sending us a C-130. He has continued to fly sorties over the area as a distraction. So far, neither Ward nor OPIS have responded. Brock and Kamal are joining Sigma team and will guide us to the airfield. I’m going to hand you over to Sofia.”

  Sofia smiled as she stood and moved to the front of the room. She held up a black rectangular flash drive. “Everyone on Alpha and Sigma teams will get a copy of this. We need to access the servers. To do that, Avondale has written a virus. Install this on any computer you see inside The Eyrie. Then Avondale will be able to remote in, gain admin, and access the files we need. If we’re successful, Dr. Lahm has written a program that will knock out any elite OPIS member within a five-hundred-meter radius.”