Unbreakable Storm

by Patrick Dugan

  “Long enough for introductions,” Warden said, turning to her team. “You know Molecular Molly, Boulder, and Salvo from your last visit.” Molly waved enthusiastically; the two men simply raised a hand in acknowledgment. She indicated the Asian lady from earlier. “This is Izanami.” I’d seen statues more animated than Izanami. Warden then gestured toward the older woman. She wore a loose-fitting black top and pants that were pushed into her boot tops. Her graying hair held a myriad of barrettes and clips to keep it in place. “And Specter.” She smiled warmly at us.

  It was Dad’s turn. “I’m Cyclone Ranger. This is Snapshot, our sniper.” Mom nodded to the group. “and…” That’s when he realized Abby hadn’t picked a code name.

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Abby startled me with her abrupt entry into the conversation. “The Protectorate called me ‘The Butcher,’ of all the dumb names, or you can call me Abby.” She jerked her thumb at me. “He’s Tommy. Makes it a whole lot easier, and it’s not like we have a secret identity to protect.”

  And there you have it, the bull in the china shop. I’d been outed. Warden knew who we were, but Abby had just confirmed it for the rest of the Underground. Though she was right, Saturday Night Showdown had used our real names as part of the introduction. I pulled off my helmet since it seemed silly to hide our identities at this point. Mom and Abby did the same.

  The speaker above our head instructed us to stand still. I did as I was told. Lights whirled around us as metal circular rings rose from the floor, spinning ever faster until they blurred. With a slight popping of my ears, I knew we had shifted locations. The lights slowly dimmed to reveal the transport surrounded by men with rifles pointed at us. “Don’t move!” One of them shouted.

  We weren’t in Kansas anymore.

  30

  “What’s the code word!” yelled one of the men. With the bright lights, I couldn’t pick out who spoke.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Squad, you know who it is since we just radioed we were translocating.” Warden snapped at whoever had spoken.

  The lights dimmed down to normal level as the rings dropped back into the floor. At least thirty identically dressed men pointed rifles in our direction. Warden didn’t seem worried as she strode off the disk we’d been standing on, toward one of the men. “Knock it off, you’ll spook our guests, and you don’t want that.” She headed for the console where a guy in a helmet and darkened goggles sat behind the controls.

  Like an accordion collapsing, the men blurred as they combined into one man standing across from me. Molly whispered. “That’s Squad; he can make copies of himself. He thinks it’s funny to startle new people.”

  Great. We’re on a mission to save Waxenby, and we get a practical joker. He’s lucky one of us hadn’t fired. “Got it.” I looked around the room. Gone were the clean lines and metal fixtures from Atlanta’s bank vault. Dallas consisted of thick, stocky cement walls, whitewash faded from years of neglect. Power lines snaked across the ceiling and down to the translocator, metal brackets holding them in place.

  Dad looked around as well. “Warden, what was this before the war?”

  “Munitions bunker that the Reclaimers had built. Walls and ceilings have three layers of Carbinium plates encased in the concrete. There’s a certain justice in using it to defy them.” She hadn’t looked up from the laptop she typed on.

  “Good use for it.” Dad looked impressed.

  I followed Molly across to where Warden stood beside a projector. She had an aerial view on the wall of the greater Dallas region. Everyone gathered around it.

  Warden pointed at the image. “Here is where the Syndicate is holed up. According to the records, it used to be a bank. It’s constructed with bulletproof glass and reinforced walls. We are going to have to go in through a door.” She looked around for questions. Seeing none, she continued. “We can set Molly and Snapshot up on the roof of the old Prosperity bank building. It’s fifteen or so stories tall and has a good view of the area. It also has an access hatch to the underground if things go bad.” That was directed at Molly with “the mother” stare, which made you know she meant it.

  Molly nodded. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good. We need to scope the surrounding area and make sure things are what we think they are. We’ll send two groups. Ranger, Sparky, Abby, and I will scout the western side. Salvo, Boulder, and Izanami will take the eastern. Once we are secure, Specter will scout the building for us.”

  I glanced at Specter, wondering how she would penetrate and scout a building full of Syndicate goons. I think she read my mind. “I create a spiritual copy of myself. I’ll ghost through the building and get the general layout. I can’t see the small details, but it’s something.”

  Warden snorted. “She’s selling herself short. She’ll be able to tell us what’s going on in there. Once we have the intel, we move on the building, get your man out, and take down as many of the bastards as we can. Any questions?”

  There weren’t any.

  “Squad, get the rest of your team back to Atlanta. I don’t want our home base unguarded in case things go bad here.”

  He saluted crisply, as four more copies peeled off behind him. “Yes, Warden!” They all jogged out of the room.

  Warden shook her head wearily before leading the group out and through the underground town that held her people in Dallas. People called greetings to her as we walked, which she returned good-naturedly.

  Exiting through a steel portal, we entered the labyrinth of tunnels that connected the Underground to a good portion of the remains of the Dallas area. Large sections of the city had burned to the ground about ten years ago, making it even less hospitable. After half an hour, we stopped for a break while Salvo and Boulder went for a vehicle to quicken our journey. Specter slumped against the wall in exhaustion.

  Dad pulled Warden aside, talking in soft tones. Mom joined Abby and I where we waited. “I’m glad Blaze pushed us so hard in training,” Mom said, her tone light over the comm-links. The helmets provided thermal imaging that cast the world into shades of green. Aboveground, the night vision gave a better view, but not underground. “I hadn’t realized how out of shape I was being a lawyer.”

  I chuckled. “You were in great shape compared to me. I’d have dropped from exhaustion ten minutes after we started.”

  Abby chimed in helpfully. “He would have. I’d never seen someone so out of shape. Well, except Marcel.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. Normally, Marcel would have been monitoring the missions, but the Syndicate knew we were coming; no sense chancing them intercepting the long-range communications to boot. Loneliness crept in, knowing my best friend wouldn’t be riding shotgun.

  “I miss Mr. Wizard.” Abby sounded like how I felt. Abandoned. We were always together since we’d beaten Powell, even if it were on the comm-links.

  Dad joined our conversation. “We need to keep our eyes open; I don’t have a good feeling about this one.” He stood near Warden, but she spoke with Specter, who had regained her feet. “The Underground getting this tip, and the fact Grim Reaper is on site for a prisoner move is a setup. Reaper is spoiling for a fight.”

  Ever the pragmatist, Mom chimed in. “Of course he is. I’m sure he expected us to die in the Gauntlet.”

  “It would be great, but they’ve got something up their sleeves. Grim Reaper wouldn’t risk losing Waxenby if he weren’t positive he’d win this fight or get something of greater value.”

  “You think he could be after one of us or the Underground?”

  “Hmm. Could be. No one gets left behind. We can’t free one just to give him another pawn.” A click announced Dad had left the channel as he resumed his conversation with Warden.

  Lights came around the bend, and a beat-up old van pulled up next to the ledge we stood on. “Thank goodness,” Specter said with a delighted tone in her voice. “My poor old feet wouldn’t take the long walk.”

  We all hopped into the truck, and Salvo drove us to the exit poin
t. It only took about twenty minutes, though the van never got much over fifteen miles an hour in the tunnel. We stopped next to a flight of metal stairs that rose up to what I guessed would be the basement of the Prosperity building. Salvo and Boulder led the way, checking the door before opening it and inspecting the area beyond. Salvo gave the all clear. Specter headed up next, followed by Izanami and Warden. Mom and Molly went ahead of Abby and me. Dad brought up the rear. Nothing seemed out of place, though it didn’t soothe my nerves any.

  The Underground had stocked the basement in case of a forced evacuation or mission prep. The Underground team pulled weapons out, checking the condition before loading them. Molly grabbed a rifle that could have been the little brother of Mom’s HK G28. Once they were ready, Salvo and Boulder opened the hidden door carefully, but nothing waited for us. We climbed up a set of stairs to the lobby of the building. Mom paused on the landing. She hit her external speaker. “Do Molly and I climb to the roof?”

  Warden shook her head. “We have battery packs to operate the elevator. We keep some of the taller buildings accessible since the snakes here are enormous and extremely poisonous. I always hated snakes, but these are nightmare-inducing.”

  Good to know. Killer crocs in Atlanta, giant rats in D.C., and now poisonous snakes in Dallas. These cities were a biologist’s dream come true. Who said animals didn’t evolve?

  We moved across the wastelands of the lobby to the elevator bank that once had taken people to their daily jobs. Salvo eased a panel off the wall, connected two wires, and the door opened with a chime. He replaced the panel.

  “Molly, you two head to the roof and stay low. Keep your eyes open and evacuate at the first hint of trouble.” Warden turned to Mom. “This shaft has a working elevator. The last shaft is empty, but we rigged a rope system that will drop you into the basement with an exit to the tunnels. If things go bad, ALL of you need to escape and wait in the tunnel. Understood?” She directed the last word firmly at Molly.

  They both nodded. Mom gripped Dad’s hand, then Abby’s, then mine, before the elevator took her to her post. I didn’t like that none of us were there to protect her, but Molly had saved me before and would do the same for Mom. Specter followed Mom and Molly to the roof to do her work.

  The rest of the group split into teams and moved to scout the area around the Syndicate base. We crossed through the building’s parking lot, staying out of the deck, which didn’t appear overly safe. Across the street stood an expansive building. Warden had pointed it out as an old mega-mart. The back of the building held the loading docks; the bays looked like empty sockets in a skeleton’s skull. Vines emitted a strange scraping sound that set my teeth on edge.

  Three cars sat where they had collided years ago. Warden slid between two mangled bumpers, getting to a small clear area in the center of the triangle. We crouched behind them, hiding from any Syndicate watchers. “I need a few minutes to pull a storm up in case we need it. In the middle of a fight isn’t when I want to wait for the clouds to form.”

  I watched as she focused her Gift, but much to my disappointment, her eyes didn’t go all white or glow electric blue; nothing formed around her or anything. I’d thought a power as expansive as controlling the weather would have a show associated with it. I guess Mother Nature didn’t worry about being upstaged. I checked overhead as the clouds scudded together, increasing in quantity. They darkened as they formed.

  I saw Dad’s head tilted upward, watching the spectacle of summoning a storm from nothing. I switched to our private channel on the comm-link. “She’s powerful, isn’t she?”

  Dad’s head shifted slightly in my direction. “In certain ways, I guess she is.”

  I frowned, not that he could see my face since we had helmets on. “What do you mean? She can summon a storm from nothing.”

  “It is impressive to be sure. Before the attacks, she’d been support personnel.” He sat, his back leaning against the remnants of a blue van that now sheltered us from prying eyes. I flopped on the broken asphalt of the road.

  “Support?” I had thought all Gifted had been on teams. Waxenby and Tracy Stephens had shown me that not all Gifted used their powers to fight. As Marcel said, my concept was binary. You were on a team or not. Support was a new concept.

  The reflection of the cloud’s movement gave Dad’s visor a strange streaming effect, kind of like a lava lamp. “When the call came, you couldn’t wait fifteen minutes for someone to ready their powers; you had to go. A lot of times we leapt from planes to our target sites. Powers like hers aren’t practical in those situations.” He paused for a moment. “Having said that, I’d not want to fight her in Atlanta where she keeps the storms close by. Gifted like her usually went to drought areas to bring rain, or were flown over the oceans to break hurricanes before landfall. Things along those lines. Mr. Fix-it was support for a lot of teams.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.” There was a lot I didn’t know since history consisted of the Reclaimers winning the war and imprisoning us for being born with Gifts they didn’t like. As far as the Protectorate was concerned, time began with their rise to power. The rest had been thrown out.

  Warden signaled she was done. I switched back over to the team comm so I could listen in. “Ready?” she asked before leading us out and around an old shopping center. Vines crawled over the building, engulfing it in vegetation. We gave a wide berth to the plants as they writhed and stretched toward us when we moved past. I had no interest in seeing what would happen if I got too close. The Atlanta mold gave me a new healthy respect for plants.

  We reached the front of the building. Nothing moved. The parking lot held a multitude of rusted-out vehicles that had been parked when the Dark Brigade attack hit the area. We leapfrog advanced through the jungle of abandoned junkers until we could see the front of the Syndicate base. Warden spoke softly into her comm, which was linked up with ours. “Anything moving out there?”

  Mom’s voice came back. “No, everything is quiet.”

  Salvo agreed. “Nothing here, Warden, except those creepy-ass plants.”

  Warden nodded to herself. “Specter, give it a look-see.”

  “On it, Warden. Back in a jiffy.”

  Warden knelt next to where Dad and I had stopped behind the remains of an old station wagon. “I don’t like this. They should have people on the roof or patrolling the perimeter.”

  “Agreed, they are up to something. I don’t know what, though,” Dad said thoughtfully. “How good is Specter?”

  “The best. You think I’d drag an old lady out here for fun?” Warden smiled, but her eyes never settled in one place as she scanned the area for the trap we all knew would be waiting.

  The minutes felt like hours before Specter broke the silence. “Grim Reaper is in there with four others and the target. He’s tied to a chair in the middle of the old lobby. Three of the perps are on the far side of the safety glass of the teller line. Probably don’t want to taste any of Ranger’s lightning.”

  “Great job, Specter. Get to the bolt hole and wait for us.” Warden’s clipped tone freaked me out. We weren’t seeing something.

  “Will do, Warden.”

  “No sense wasting time,” Dad said, peering off into the darkness. Nothing showed on night vision or thermal. If Grim Reaper had only brought five, we’d have the advantage.

  “On my mark...”

  Mom’s voice over the comm-link cut her off. “Heads up, somebody is coming out of the target.” I pointed across the asphalt to where a figure, dressed head to toe in black, strode out of the Syndicate’s base. There was no doubt in my mind as to who that was: Grim Reaper. Four others followed in his wake.

  “Tommy, why you hidin’ over there? We are friends. Come, let’s talk.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but talking was the last thing on my mind.

  31

  As I began to rise, hands grabbed my arms from either side. “Don’t be crazy,” Warden hissed between clenched teeth. “He’s baiting
you.”

  I knew he was; I’d seen him do it to Jon in the boxing ring time after time. I relaxed, letting myself be pulled back out of sight. “What do we do then?”

  Dad tapped me on the shoulder, pointing back toward where Mom oversaw the terrain. “You guys got eyes on this joker?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Mom’s voice almost purred. She had a score to settle with Grim Reaper. “I’ve got the shot.”

  Warden smiled. “Take it.”

  I heard the report of the rifle over the comm-link. A bright blue flash flared in front of Grim Reaper’s face. “Oh, that’s low, Ward,” He yelled into the night. “Good thing we’ve got Commander Gravity at our disposal. So how about we talk now before I slash old Ollie?”

  I don’t think any of us thought we’d capture him so easily, but it had been a nice thought while it lasted.

  Warden glowered “Salvo, give him a bit of fire, and see what he thinks.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Streaks of fire arced into view from our left, crashing on Grim Reaper’s position. The shield held, until a stroke of lightning arced into the right side of the shield making it flash and disappear. Dad’s voice came over our secure channel. “This is why you never let people know your weakness.”

  I thought back to the night we fought the Syndicate. “But Waxenby held in Armageddon’s blast the night in the desert.”

  “Oliver can contain just about anything inside a shield, but they collapse if they are struck from multiple directions at the same time from the outside.”

  It made sense. Grim Reaper dodged the flames as he dashed for the safety of the doorway.

  I heard a satisfied chuckle from Warden. “That’ll teach him to run his mouth.” She signaled for us to move out. “Start the assault. We need to hit while they are disoriented.”

  We weaved between the vehicles in turn, keeping the hideout in sight. Salvo’s team moved in from our left, flanking the side of the building. I knelt behind a husk of an old SUV and waited, Dad to my right, Warden to my left. I saw Abby take up a position beyond Warden.