Reverse

by Steven Tandberg

  “Coyle?” My dad stared at me as I struggled against the goon’s grip. He slammed his fists against the barrier between the front and back seats. “Coyle!” he screamed.

  “Get… out… Dad,” I squeaked out. But, I knew he couldn’t. His cuffs held tight, and the doors remained locked. There was no way to open them from the inside.

  The goon squeezed harder, collapsing the vessels in my neck. My vision began to darken. Realizing it was futile, I released my hands from his legs. My right hand dropped between the seat and door and rested on something long and metal. A window hammer! I gripped it and yanked it from its holder then slammed it down on the goon’s knee. The blow sent blood and tissue spraying into the air. His knee shattered, and he eased off my neck reflexively. He reached up to grab the hammer, but I quickly rammed it down on his other leg. I adjusted to being on top of him as he writhed in pain, grabbing at his mangled legs. I raised the hammer from the right, and as he put up his hands to block it, my left fist rose and made contact with his jaw, knocking him out cold. I nearly collapsed onto him from the lack of oxygen.

  Shots rang out from behind us, but I could tell by the sound they were aimed at the van. I was about to push this goon out of my car as a last act of violence to him but then thought twice. Maybe we could extract some intel from this guy? I hit him once more; just to make sure he was completely out and then rammed down on the gas pedal.

  Because of my scuffle, I had driven further down the street than I’d hoped and had to whip a U-turn. More shots rang out and then silence. The carnage unfolded as I made my way up to the driver’s side of the van. One of the goons lay on the ground, not breathing, nor could I hear a heartbeat. Talon hung outside the cab, his seat belt tightly wrapped around his neck. His lips were a light shade of blue, but his chest rose erratically. I threw the car into park and looked for the remaining goon. Nowhere in sight or earshot. I jumped out and released Talon from his deathly stricture, careful to support his neck in case his vertebrae had fractured with the stricture. As I laid him down, I glanced up into the cab and saw a spray of crimson staining the roof. I knew the remaining goon had met his fate and likely lay within the cab, probably Talon’s last act before passing out. I looked down at Talon. His skin had taken on pale hue, and his lips had swollen purple. I nearly lost it. If Talon died... I thought. I squeezed his hand and rubbed on his chest, trying to stimulate something from him. His heart remained still.

  “C’mon, Talon,” I yelled at him and began compressions. Dad looked on with his mouth agape. After only a few compressions, I felt Talon’s heart quiver, and then beat regularly. The color returned to his face.

  “Talon!”

  He didn’t respond, but he did start breathing regularly. A rush of joy swept over me. Talon should be OK.

  “Dad, get out,” I said after running to and opening his door.

  “How can this be? Who are you? You can’t be my son.” He stayed inside the car.

  “Not now, Dad! I’ll explain as we go. More of these guys are coming, I promise, and they will kill us all. Come on out!”

  He squirmed out and collapsed to his knees with a better look at the carnage. I couldn’t help myself. A lump formed in my throat. My dad! Or at least, Coyle’s dad. I felt such love for him, a deep, all-encompassing emotion I couldn’t deny. I wrapped my arms around him and wept. He also started crying with tears now flowing down onto my neck.

  “Urrghh,” Talon tried to speak.

  I wiped the tears from my face and cleared my throat. “Dad, we gotta go now. Can you help me?” I looked into his eyes. The same tired eyes I knew from before. “Can you open the trunk while I get my friend in the back seat?”

  “Yes son.” He got to his feet and went to the driver’s side door.

  I gently lifted Talon, supporting his neck the best I could and placed him into the back seat. My dad popped the trunk open, and I retrieved some blankets. Using my belt, I wrapped the folded blankets around Talon’s neck and tightened it until it immobilized him. I attached the seat belts around him and cinched them down.

  My dad stood outside the passenger side door when I got out.

  “And him?” He pointed towards the unconscious man in the passenger seat.

  “To the trunk,” I said as my dad’s eyes widened. “Dad, a lot has changed since we last saw each other.”

  His eyes blinked twice, and his pupils dilated. “That’s an understatement; I need to call my work and Somatotech,” he said while retrieving his cellphone from his pocket.

  We weren’t far enough out yet; they still had some influence on him. “Not now, Dad!” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “We can call on the way.” I played along, hoping I could influence him as well.

  I ran to the other side and pulled the man onto my shoulder. He plopped down into the trunk just as I heard the sirens from the incoming police. From the sounds there had to be at least four cars coming fast.

  “Time to go!” I yelled to my dad.

  “I don’t think I can do that, Coyle,” he said and crossed his arms across his chest. “Somatotech wouldn’t want me to leave the scene of an accident.”

  “Somatotech wants you to be safe, right?” I felt like I was talking to a child.

  “Yes, Somatotech protects me.”

  “Well, the men who are coming, will hurt all of us. I need to get us to a safe place where we can call Somatotech.”

  He stood there. I could almost see the drug-influenced gears turning in his head.

  “We gotta go now, Dad. To say safe.”

  “I’m supposed to call Somatotech if I see you again. I see you now, I should call them.”

  “Yes, you should call them, but in the car.” I just about slammed my fist on the hood in frustration. I didn’t want to force him physically, but I would if I had to. Gratefully, he relented, walked to the passenger side, swept the glass off the seat, and buckled his seatbelt.

  Just another mile or two and we should be out of range.

  23 Free Flowing

  I lurched the car forward, the bumper scraping against the asphalt with a sound to wake the dead. I didn’t care as I knew the police or Somatotech goons would be on us soon. We careened past the Holiday Inn and made our way toward the C-470, the major highway that circumvented the metro area. I breathed a sigh of relief once we were on it heading toward Santa Fe Ave. My relief was short-lived. The sirens from the oncoming police cars blared out as they pulled out the highway behind us.

  I looked over at my dad. He stared at me. His eyes glazed over as if he wasn’t fully present. The shaking then started at his hands and spread like a wave up to his head and then down through his feet. I had padded the back seat in anticipation of my dad’s seizure, but Talon now lay back there. His head slammed violently against the passenger side window and seat. I reached over to his shoulder, trying to stabilize him, but his head slammed against the window once more, and with such force, a crack formed in the glass. Blood seeped from his hair and onto his shoulder. He shook for about a minute until his body went limp, propped up by his seat belt. Saliva slipped from his partially gaped mouth, and his arms draped down. They swayed back and forth as I turned the car. Blood continued to flow from his scalp wound and pooled on the seat.

  “Dad!” I screamed, but I couldn’t stop. The police gained ground behind us. My damaged car couldn’t seem to get over fifty miles per hour. Sputtering sounds came from the engine compartment as I helped the gas pedal down.

  “Roxanne, we need help now!” I yelled, hoping Talon’s ears still worked. “If you can hear me, we are on C-470 about a mile from Santa Fe Ave. The police will be on us in just a few minutes. Talon and my dad are out, and my car is shutting down.”

  I passed over South Wadsworth Boulevard, heading toward Santa Fe Ave. Cars passed me easily, and a few even honked. Bold people, bold, I thought. Honking at what at least looks like a police car. The real police cars were coming at me from the west and sounded about a quarter mile away.

  “I’ll
be on Santa Fe Avenue in just under two minutes. Hope you guys can help.”

  Just as I passed S. Platte Canyon Road., a semi truck pulled out behind me. The horn blared out towards me, and I looked in the rearview mirror. Striker and Jarom sat in the cab with wide grins. Dang they acted quickly, I thought. A little too quickly. I waved back at them.

  The police were now in view about a mile back. Two cars and a black SUV with sirens blaring gained serious ground on the semi and me with my dilapidated car. I reached the exit to Santa Fe Avenue before them and heard a loud screech of tires behind me. I looked back through the rearview mirror to see Striker’s semi flipping onto its side on the off ramp. The trailer on the back dislodged and slid into the retaining wall. The semi wedged into the single lane and caught fire almost immediately. With the flames growing larger, Striker and Jarom kicked out the windshield and jumped out. Blood streamed down Striker’s face, but he wiped it with his shirt and sprinted into the field bordering C-470. They gave each other a fist bump and split up, one moving west and the other east.

  I continued down the ramp and jerked the car to the right at the intersection with Santa Fe Avenue, ignoring the red light. The bumper finally released from the front end and skidded to a stop in the other lane, right in front of the oncoming traffic. One of the drivers gave me the bird and peeled out around it. I continued with my foot pressed firmly against the gas pedal. Someone’s horn blared out from my right. Roxanne and Red Cloud stood outside a large black van parked on a side street just off the avenue. I slammed on the brakes, whipped the car to the right, and just barely made the turnoff.

  “How did you get here so fast?” I called out to Roxanne, as I stepped out of the car and ran to the passenger side.

  She also ran to the passenger side and swung open Talon’s door. “We knew you were in trouble when Talon told us they weren’t normal agents. We organized right then.” She pulled out Talon by his limp shoulders and flopped him over her shoulder with ease. “Did ya like the semi? That was Striker’s idea.”

  “Pretty risky, and gonna bring a lot of attention.” I lugged my dad over to the van.

  “Party pooper,” she said and laid Talon down across one of the gurneys in the back. I did the same with my dad and sat down in between them. The police sirens stayed at the wreckage. The destroyed semi did its job.

  “Ready to roll?” asked Red Cloud.

  “Onward!” yelled Roxanne as she jumped into the cab.

  “Wait, I got one of the goons in the trunk.” I ran out to the car. “And, what about Striker and Jarom?” I yelled over my shoulder.

  Roxanne jumped out and slammed the trunk down before I could lift it open. “You need to leave him, Coyle.”

  “Why?” I said and tried to move her out of the way.

  “He’s dead,” she grabbed my shoulder and rammed me into the trunk as if I was a weakling.

  “How do you know?” I said, rolling off the trunk.

  “These new Somatotech thugs have a chip implanted in their brains. The company can flip the kill switch whenever their little plan is threatened. Listen, do you hear his heart?”

  I focused on the sounds around me. My ears localized on the trunk. Silence. He was dead; there was nothing I could do so I retreated back to the van with Roxanne. Another life on my hands; if I had left him maybe they would have spared his life. My chest felt tight as I stepped in.

  “What about our saboteurs back there?”

  Roxanne joined me. “Striker and Jarom will meet us back at your hacienda. We have cars planted all over.”

  Medital must have deep pockets, I thought. Sacrificing a semi, having many disposable cars, planting high-tech surveillance systems in people’s rooms, and keeping multiple hideouts, Roxanne and her team were definitely well funded.

  “Uhhgg,” my dad let out and opened his eyes. I jumped to his side and grasped his hand.

  “Dad, it’s Coyle.” At least a perfect copy of your Coyle, I thought. Definitely wasn’t the time to spring that bombshell on him.

  “Coyle?” His eyes searched my face and recognition flashed in them. He shot up and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Coyle! You’re alive!” I hugged him back. I hadn’t noticed it before, but my originator’s dad had a distinct smell. A dad smell. It was oddly comforting, and that’s when it hit me. I loved this man. I took a moment to consider the feeling. It felt deep, as if it came from within my heart itself. The feeling didn’t stem from my brain. In fact, knowing what my so-called dad had done I shouldn’t have felt such admiration. But I did, and it felt real.

  “I’m glad you’re safe, dad. I’ve missed you,” I said as we released each other.

  “I’m not sure where I’ve been.” He rubbed his temples.

  “Do you remember your seizure in the bathroom?” He shook his head. “Well, you had one and afterward you told me Somatotech had done something to you. I know what they did now. You’ve got an implant under your skin that communicates with your brain. The company transmits a signal to that implant using the new cellular data towers around the metro area. While you are under the influence you don’t remember how they’ve influenced you.”

  He furrowed his brow and looked down at himself, noticing his uniform. “I’m able to live and work normally with that in me?”

  “Work, yes. Live normally, no. Somehow they control only certain cognitive functions.”

  He opened his eyes wide and shook his head back a forth as if he was shaking out the confusion. “Where have you been, Coyle? I’ve seen you on the news. Everyone thought you were dead. I didn’t believe the sightings.”

  “You saw me on the news, recently?”

  He nodded. “Channel 9 showed a video of you beating up some football player.”

  Dang. So, they did recognize me on my mission at Dave and Busters. The public must have all sorts of conspiracy theories on how I could be alive.

  “Yeah, I’ve been around. We have a safe place now and a doctor who may be able to take out the implant.”

  A single tear slipped from my dad’s eye. “I’m a failure, Coyle. I put you through all of this. I’ve made you who you are.”

  “And who is that, Dad?”

  “They showed me what you did at Somatotech...”

  “Dad, they kidnaped Jamie. They nearly raped her. I had to get her out of there.”

  “You found her? Is she OK? They just called off the search this morning. They declared her dead.”

  “Yes, Dad, we saved her from Somatotech. She’s safe with us.”

  “Have you told her parents?” he asked.

  “Yes, they know she’s safe. But she has an implant just like you. We’ve had some freakin’ close calls and—”

  “Watch your mouth, Coyle.” He gave me that look, the one look every teenager knows.

  “Sorry, Dad.” I couldn’t help but smile. Not that I missed the censure, but it gave me a sense of home again, at least the little time I truly had with Coyle’s dad.

  We talked about the last couple weeks the entire way back. I left out certain details because I knew Medital listened through Roxanne and her crew. They didn’t need to know all my secrets.

  We arrived at the compound, but the gate remained closed as we approached. I opened the side door and stepped to the console.

  “It’s OK, Stefan.” I waved to the camera. The chain reciprocated, pulling the gate open.

  Stefan, Aedan, Jamie, Dr. B. and the Doña stood in the roundabout in front of the hacienda. Red Cloud pulled the van directly in front of them, the dust wafting over them. I opened the door and supported my dad with my shoulder until he felt stable on his feet.

  “Señor Murray, welcome to our home,” said the Doña as she extended her hand toward him.

  He took it and pulled her close. “Thank you for taking care of my son.”

  “Little do you know Mr. Murray, but he took care of us.” She hugged him then released.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Murray,” said Jamie.

  “Even bette
r to see you.” He choked up and a tear slipped down his cheek. “We all thought you were gone forever.” His tongue hung on the last word

  “Your son and his friends risked their lives for me.” She glanced my way and then gave my dad a hug.

  “Well isn’t this just swell!” said Roxanne as she came round the van. Stefan’s jaw tightened at the sight of her. Even the Doña’s heart rate picked up. “I love family reunions.”

  “Stefan, meet Roxanne,” I said, moving to support my dad again. Jamie stayed under his other arm.

  “Oh, we’ve met,” said Stefan stepping closer to her. “She sucker punched me on their way out.”

  “Sorry, ‘bout that, but you should never turn your back on a lady like me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Coyle vouches for you all, which is why we allow you to be here, otherwise we’d never...” He trailed off as he looked to me. “Well, please come in.”

  We all started moving toward the door, but Roxanne and Aedan (who hadn’t taken his eyes off her) stayed behind. Jamie caught me staring back at them and grinned. The first grin I’d seen since taking over this place. I smiled back and opened my mouth to say something, but she turned her head away and began walking into the hacienda with my dad in tow. I let her take my dad inside.

  “You OK?” asked Dr. Bartnev.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. But, Talon’s gonna need some work. He asphyxiated; one of the goons hung him from a seatbelt.”

  A grim look crossed his face. “Brain is fragile thing. I’ll do my best.”

  While he went in to get a gurney, I walked over to the van and looked at Talon. He lay motionless aside from the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He’d risked his life for Coyle’s dad and me, whether just to prove himself or not, he did it.

  “Thanks Talon,” I said, knowing he didn’t hear me, but I figured his crew did.

  In the kitchen, the Doña started warming some soup while everyone else congregated at the island. I came up behind Red Cloud and weakly punched his shoulder. “Thanks for coming to the rescue out there.”