Shadow Dragon

by wade coleman

  I wake up in a large tub filled with warm water set on a white porcelain floor. A man removes a tube from my nose and lays me on the table with my head tilted down. I cough fluid out of my lungs while he lightly pounds on my back.

  He sits me up and leads me to a shower, where I get cleaned up. Afterward, he gives me a robe and takes me to a room where I can change and wait.

  Soon, the door opens, and Dr. West walks in, sitting next to me. “We kept you in for three days. We removed the dead nerve tissue. Your body is having issues adapting to its new wiring.”

  “I get the shakes sometimes when I’m nervous, but it feels like things are getting better.”

  “How are you and Natasha getting along? Any arguments…fights?”

  “We’re great, doc, good friends, even…as long as I get to go to flight school.”

  The corners of her mouth turn up for a fraction of a second, then return to her poker face. “You’ll want to keep that appointment. Natasha has replaced the nerves in your spinal cord, arms, and legs. As of now, she’s replaced ninety-five percent of your nervous system,” Dr. West says, in a perfectly normal tone of voice. Like it wasn’t a big deal, getting rewired.

  “That should make flying easier, like having a built-in autopilot.”

  “Let me explain something to you.” She puts down her tablet. “It takes time for the brain to process information. From recognizing that man has a gun to be able to react to that threat takes time.” She taps on her tablet. “The synthetic nerves are a million times faster. That means your reaction time is less than a hundred thousandth of a second.”

  “Yeah…When the first shot was fired, time slowed down, and everything got quiet. When Mr. Fukui and his men pointed their pistols at me, I kind of went on auto-pilot.”

  She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “That’s because Natasha is connected to your medulla. She kicked into high gear when you were scared.” For the first time, I see the doctor smile, a genuine smile. She’s cute, for her age.

  “So, for the whole night, the only time you got scared was in Mr. Fukui’s office.”

  I give her a puzzled look, “How do you know about that?”

  “Kim told Beverly, Beverly told me. So, what happened in Mr. Fukui’s office to rattle the cool and calm Hermes Conrad? That is the question on my mind.” Another genuine smile and my cheeks get red.

  A shiver goes down my spine. I like to keep a very private life; the first rule of a thief is to leave no trace. People knowing my business makes me nervous. “Jesus…Kim is such a big blabbermouth.”

  The doctor looks at me waiting for an answer.

  “Behind a bar were three men with Tech 9’s in each hand. That was a new record, having six guns pointed in my direction.”

  “That’s when Natasha took control,” the doctor says. “What happened next?”

  “I moved around the room, and they shot and missed, their reactions too slow to keep up with me. Couch stuffing was motionless in the air. I took the Kukan and left.”

  “It’s all over the news, the dragon, vaccine and the Search and Rescue board meeting at the Broadmoor. They kept your name out of the paper to avoid embarrassing the Broadmoor Country Club. It seems their new lifetime member makes money in pornography.”

  “It’s better than saying I was a thief, and it’s believable,” I smile and whisper under my breath when the doctor looks down at her tablet. “Natasha, register the business name ‘underground-sex.com’ and set up an account.”

  “Hey, doc…can you set me up with a port so I can plug Natasha into a phone to access the net?”

  “I can set you up with a wireless device just behind your ear for a hundred thousand credits.”

  “No…I want to be able to control access. I want a hardware disconnect from the web. There’s a lot of nasty shit out there, some of it I wrote.”

  “A wise precaution, but hardly necessary. Your implant’s unique hardware and software will be unrecognizable by software floating the web. But if you insist, I can install an external port behind your ear for ten thousand credits.”

  “Yeah…let’s do that.”

  She picks up her tablet. “I’ll schedule it now and… a nurse is available to install the port. Prosthetics is on the second floor,” the doctor says and stands up.

  I get on the elevator and get off on the second floor. After asking twice, I find my way through the maze of hallways and find Prosthetics.

  I sit in a chair for an hour and then a nurse takes me back to a room with a dentist chair and I wait another hour.

  A man in scrubs walks in with a box. “Haven’t put in a light port in a few years, had to get the equipment from storage.”

  “So exactly what am I getting?”

  He opens the plastic box and gets out what looks like a tattoo machine. It’s a stainless steel large bore needle and a slot to put in an ink cartridge. The mutant takes hold of the device. His long fingers could easily palm a basketball.

  “I’m going to inject a light-sensitive ink behind your ear that will bond to your skull. The pigment is designed to turn light into an electrical impulse that your implant decodes.” Long Fingers removes a flesh-colored disk the size of a pea from the case. “Then I put this behind your ear. It’s a port that you can plug in a fiber optic line. It grows into the skin and permanently attaches.”

  He puts the disk down. “The Mark fives were made with the necessary hardware and software to accept a fiber-optic port. “They don’t make them for the new Mark 6 implants; everyone’s going wireless.”

  He slides in a cartridge of silver ink, “You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s do this.” I grab the arm of the chair, and he puts the needle behind my ear and pulls the trigger.

  “Fuck me, that hurts,” I twitch in the chair as the ink goes in.

  “Why don’t you get up and shake that off while I prepare your data port.”

  I stand up and pace and check the back of my head. I can feel a small lump.

  “Keep your hands off that, it will spread out on its own,” he holds a flesh-colored disk. “Come over here to the light.”

  I comply. The mutant with the long fingers puts the disk behind my ear, and I feel a slight sting as it bonds to my skin. “It has a magnet inside to hold the fiber optic line.”

  He shakes his finger. “No touching for five minutes while it grows into place.” He pulls his tablet computer and makes some notes, looking at me from time to time, making sure I’m not scratching my ear.

  “Okay, let’s take a look at you.”

  I sit in the chair. The nurse takes my hand and places it in a smooth spot behind my right ear. “That’s your new port.”

  He takes a narrow cylinder out of the box. One side is a USB port. The other side has a disc connected to a fiber optic line. He puts the disc behind my ear, and a magnet holds it in place.

  He hands me the USB port side of the fiber optic line. “Plug this into your phone.”

  I get out my cell phone and insert the device.

  “Darling, I’m accessing the web, I’ll set up your new pornography website immediately.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Long Fingers replies.

  Once we finish up, I head back Dr. West’s office. I wait again. Natasha uses the time to finish filling out the forms for my new business.

  Forty-five minutes later, Dr. West walks in and sits down. She hands me a bottle of four pills in it. “I found a drug to control your seizures. Put this under your tongue the next time it happens.”

  “Why so few pills?”

  “You want more, then come back. You haven’t been the best of patients.”

  I swivel on my stool. “Normally, I enjoy being probed in every orifice, but I have a lot on my plate right now, doc.”

  She smiles briefly and looks at her tablet. ““Your body was filled with toxins. You need the new mitochondrial upgrade.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Once y
ou’re over twenty-five, it’s all downhill for the cells in your body responsible for making energy. The new model is more efficient and resistant to damage from toxins. The way you burn energy, you need this upgrade.”

  “How much?”

  “Eight hundred thousand credits.”

  I nod and transfer the money. Checking my balance, I notice there are less than three hundred thousand credits left in my account now. The life of a thief is always easy come, easy go.

  Dr. West looks at her tablet. “I schedule a nurse and…. 1 PM. You can wait in the cafeteria until then.”

  I get up and look at my virtual, 11:15 PM. Almost a half day conscious in a hospital. This could possibly be the longest day of my life.

  I drink bad fake coffee made of seaweed and people watch until noon. I get a text to return to my room and find Pam waiting for me.

  I smile and she smiles back. Beside her is an IV with a bag filled with a pale amber fluid. I take off my shoes and sit on the bed.

  Pam sets up an IV. “I checked up on you. Your nickname is Spooky. She inserts the IV needle and asks, “What does that say about you as a person?”

  “Well, even for a thief, I’m really quiet.”

  “Is that how you stole the liquid nitrogen truck?” By being real quiet?”

  I study her face. She studying me studying her face. “Alleged stole, that means said without proof.”

  “One of your teachers calls you, he who must not be named.”

  “That’s because he thinks I’m Cthulhu or worshiper of Cthulhu, I don’t remember which.”

  Pam chuckles.

  The IV tube fills with the amber fluid and it enters my vein.

  “I haven’t written you completely off. But now that you’re not dying, I’m cutting you any more slack.”

  “You’ve been cutting me slack?” I ask.

  “Giving me a priceless star sapphire, what I’m I supposed to do with it?”

  I shrug. “It wasn’t for me, so I gave it to you. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But now, I see your point. Sorry.”

  Pam takes the needle from my arm. “No more slack.”

  I smile at Pam. “Tell everyone thanks for taking care of me.”

  She smiles back. “On Sunday, there’s a ceremony at the Broadmoor to give the Kukan back to the Japanese. I’ll get you an invitation.”

  Pam walks me to the front door and watches I get on my bike without falling over. We wave goodbye and I put my eyes on the road. After driving out the front gate, I enjoy the ride back along the bay highway.

  The front gate of Ceres is manned by two mutants with rifles. They let me through, and I drive home. The garage doors are open. Dad is at a workbench when I pull up, wiping grease from his hands. “So, you’re going to live?”

  “Doc says I’m fine and gave me some pills for the shakes, I say, “So…what happen while I was unconscious in the tub for three days?”

  “The Broadmoor Shopper has a million hits on the Kukan article. The picture of the dragon holding the vaccine made the front page of the Los Angeles Times. Governor Brown made a public denial that there’s a virus.”

  “The local government is the mouthpiece of corporations,” I say with my voice drips with contempt.

  “So, how you feeling?”

  I let out a long breath. “I haven’t felt this rested in weeks.”

  “Good, I have something for you to do.”

  While I’m sitting on my stool, he pulls out his computer tablet, displaying a map of the facility owned by Baron Enterprises several miles east of Frisco.

  “During the Bio-Wars, the Army took over the town of Granite Springs and made it into a base. Lots of bunkers, tunnels leading inside a hill. There are several new buildings. Somewhere in here, they’re making the virus and the vaccine.”

  I pause to absorb all this and nod. “I need access to personal records. Find out where the building superintendent and head janitor live. Find anyone who has a reason to be in any building.”

  I send Kim a text. Tonight, Virus hunting.

  Her reply, see you in 30. 

  * * *

  Kim and I drive our bikes up a ramp onto a flatbed truck, then hide our cycles under fresh cut hemp and lash it down with straps. I insisted we take a flatbed truck so our bike batteries would be fully charged for the ride home.

  Kim drives. “Are you alright?”

  “The doctor said I need to take it easy.”

  Kim winks. “Rest is for the dead.” She looks down at the gallon jugs of Clorox at my feet. “What’s that for?”

  “Clorox frags DNA. We don’t want to leave a trace of us behind. If this goes as planned, we’re going to make a billionaire very unhappy. That’s why we’re driving a stolen vehicle. They can’t trace it back to us.”

  We drive into the City of Frisco and keep heading south over the bay bridge. We follow the 101 Estuary Highway. Gradually the land rises, and the estuary gets narrower and ends around the old city of Modesto. That's about a hundred miles from Ceres plus another forty miles to the old army base.

  The base used to be Copperopolis, but the town was abandoned during the drought. After the war, the army liked the spot and took it over. Then the Feds budget was cut and the base sat empty for years. Last year Baron Enterprises leased the facility.

  All the old towns close to the foothills were plowed under and planted in square mile grids of hemp. The roots are genetically engineered to go deep to find water, so they never need irrigation. The farmers get two cuttings a year.

  As we get closer to the mountains, the hemp turns to almond groves. I turn on the GPS while Kim drives between rows of trees. We keep heading uphill until we encounter a dry creek bed. On the other side is a fence.

  I park the truck under a tree and set the brake. “It’s 119 miles to South Frisco,” I say and get out of the truck.

  Kim and I remove our bikes from the truck bed.

  I strap an extra battery to the back of my bike and Kim does the same.

  “Now I see why we needed a truck,” Kim says. “We couldn’t haul enough batteries for a round trip.

  “Yeah, a battery is good for sixty to eighty miles. Even if we recharge in South Frisco, we still need another recharge because its uphill all the way.”

  We finish prepping our bikes, walk to the dry creek bed and stop to look at the fence. “I bet that’s filled with motion sensors.”

  “I bet your right,” Kim replies.

  I check my pack one last time. Inside is a pound of C4 cord wrapped around twenty pounds of powdered aluminum and oxidant that made to turn into a fireball. I put on the pack and turn on a red LED flashlight. Using a tree, I make a shadow that crosses the stream and passes through the chain link fence. “Hold this.”

  Kim takes the light and holds it still. “Okay spooky, freak me out.”

  I feel the cold shadow edge. “You make it sound so… unnatural. It is not, there’s nothing more natural…” I let the shadow pull me in, and I think about the rock that glinted in the moonlight. In the next second, I reform and finish my sentence, “than moving through space.”

  Between Kim and me is the chain-link fence.

  She turns off the light and looks at me. “The spooky shit you pull, that’s why you can’t get laid.”

  “Oh yeah,” I say in defense and then around. I go uphill through an unkempt cherry orchard. With my goggles on low light, the ground is littered with overripe fruit.

  The main road into base has a gate and lots of lights with guards. That’s about a mile to the north. Soon I top the ridge and look down. Below I can see the roads from the old subdivision.

  When the army was here, the GI’s were put on a work detail to clear old buildings and plant trees. Half of them were fruit trees.

  I walk down the hill towards the main road, staying in the shade of the trees. At a thousand feet, the air is cooler, and I can see my breath.

  Among the trees are red LED lights. I stop, lean against a tree and ca
tch my breath. I'm not used to the altitude and wearing a pack. I peek from behind the tree and look out over a parking lot. Behind the lot are three-story concrete buildings. They were officer’s quarters: identical six hundred square foot rooms with a shower, sink and toilet.

  Now they’re apartments for the Acme Products Inc. employees. Natasha checked, and it’s a shell company. Acme Products employs two hundred people, most of whom live on campus.

  Between me and the building is a parking lot with four LED lights in each corner. I zoom in on the building superintendent’s room on the first floor. Nearby, a tree casts a shadow from a porch light.

  Walking towards the lot, the lights get brighter as the shadows deepen. Twenty feet from the lights, the shadows are strong enough to take me in. I think about the tree and the shape of the shadow on the grass, and in the next instant, I’m standing in that same spot.

  In a few steps, I’m at the superintendent’s front door. I try the handle and find it unlocked. A TV blares. The superintendent is passed out in an easy chair, a finished bottle of whiskey on an end table. A large TV lights up the room with a rerun of Lucy. This is going to be too easy, I think. Thank God for drunks.

  Next to the door on a hook is his pass card and key. Natasha displays a map of the facility. The super keeps an office in the shipping and receiving building near the main gate.

  I exit the apartment, find the tree shadow and return to the edge of the parking lot. From here I step into the orchard and walk towards shipping and receiving, located along the main road into this compound.

  In a half mile, I come to a fork in the road: straight ahead or right.

  “Natasha,” I whisper. “Show me the map.”

  A translucent screen appears. To my right is the superintendent’s office; it’s the old fire station.

  I watch the building. A patrol of two men in a jeep drives past every ten minutes. Waiting for them to pass the third time, I sprint towards the back of the building.

  The structure is of concrete block with a metal roof. The garage door is made of slats of metal. Gaps let in the shadows, and I slip through to the other side.

  With the goggles set to low light, exit signs illuminate the building. Looking around, I see no cameras or motion sensors in the loading area. I open the door to the super’s office, turn on the terminal and plug in my flash drive. It takes a few minutes for the program to find his password.