Shadow Dragon

by wade coleman

  I look at the clothes: a black suit with a narrow red tie and patent leather shoes. There’s no place to change, so I strip down in front of the blue-eyed elf, her gaze is like a laser beam.

  I strip down to my underwear, “Doesn’t seem fair…me getting naked while you watch. I’d feel more comfortable if you’d join me.”

  The two dwarfs in back stifle a laugh. The lieutenant says nothing and her face remains expressionless, which only irritates me. I use peoples’ reactions to my remarks to size them up; figure out what they are thinking. I put on my pants, “You must be my handler?”

  “If you are referring to the fact that I’m a liaison officer appointed by the US Navy who is sponsoring this mission, then yes.”

  I put on the white linen shirt and tuck it in.

  The lieutenant moves close and pulls the shirt out of my pants. “If you want to walk in the world of the Purebloods, you need to know their ways.” She holds up the tie. “Do you know how to use this?”

  I put my hands together like I’m wearing a pair of handcuffs. “Actually, I’ve never worn a tie… around my neck.”

  This time, the corners of her mouth turn up a little while the two mutants in back howl with laughter.

  She slips the tie around my neck and makes a knot.

  “I suppose they sent you because you’re attractive, and I respond better to women.”

  She cinches the knot. “Considering your history, yes.”

  I sit down and put on my leather shoes. “What do you know about my history?”

  “I know about your medical procedures.”

  I finish tying my shoes. Dr. West and I agreed she wouldn’t talk about my new nervous system until I was dead. At the time, I wasn’t expected to live more than a few days. I don’t like the idea that the military knows any of my secrets, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

  She opens up a case. Inside is a laptop attached to a fiber optic line. “Please sit down. We need to brief your implant.”

  “How do I know you’re not programming my implant into a killer?”

  She laughs and connects the line to the back of my ear where I have my data port.

  The lieutenant looks at the monitor, “You have a sophisticated machine in your head that rivals computers running research facilities. It’s guarded by an Artificial Intelligence that has a brain bigger than your own and operates a million times faster.” She removes the fiber optic line. If there’s anything to fear, it’s your implant.”

  “Her name’s Natasha, and I trust her with my life, and nothing you say will change that.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. Just a word of caution…you have a very powerful computer in your head.” She puts the hat away and closes the case. “Natasha is changing your appearance, so you look like Matthew’s neighbor.”

  The twin engines start, warms up and we head down the runway and lift off. After getting to altitude, we circle Frisco at five thousand feet. It’s dark except for cooking fires and emergency lights. The power lines into the city were cut by gangs to make looting easier, and no one has repaired them.

  The dwarf gets out a silk rug, kicks it with his foot and it unrolls down the central aisle.

  “Lie down,” the lieutenant says. “This is your parachute. It’s programmed to land on the roof of Matthew Clark’s apartment.” She hands me a briefcase. “Inside are some meds, a change of clothes, a baton and a radio. We’ll continue to circle the city while you’re on the ground.”

  The mutants drape the silk over me, and it curls tight, holding me snug.

  “Natasha knows what to do, so just follow her lead,” the lieutenant says.

  “What’s your name?”

  She looks at the dwarfs, and they pick me up, one at my feet, the other by my shoulders.

  “Why do you ask?” the lieutenant asks.

  “It doesn’t feel right, you calling me Hermes, and me calling you lieutenant.”

  “Lauren,” she pushes a button.

  The door opens. Suddenly, it’s too loud to talk over the rushing air, and two mutants toss me out of the Cessna.

  The wind rushes past my ears…after freefalling for what seems like an eternity, the parachute unfurls, silk webbing around my torso tightens, and I abruptly slow down. Suddenly it’s quiet, and I look over the city. It seems so peaceful from here. My chute is shaped like a wing, and it acts as an airfoil. I glide over the city guided by a computer with a built-in GPS.

  The silk wing changes shape, and I bank right.

  “Darling ahead is our destination. Tuck your arms and bend your knees.”

  Below and ahead is a twenty-story building made of carbon fibers and plastic. I touch down on the roof. The parachute harness automatically releases.

  “Before the wind catches it, roll the chute into a ball.”

  After securing the billows of silk, Natasha appears. “You look so handsome, you should dress up more often.” She points to the parachute. “Feel around until you find a hard piece of plastic the size of a quarter.”

  Feeling around in the fabric, I find a small button and press it. The parachute shrinks down, writhing on the roof like a snake. It turns into a rope six feet long and as thick as my thumb. Picking up the cord, I look over at Natasha, who’s wearing a strapless black evening gown that matches my suit and tie. “So, what’s next, my Russian princess?”

  “It’s so sweet of you to give me a pet name.”

  I smile. “You look great in black.”

  Natasha walks over to the roof-mounted air conditioner in high heels. “Wrap it around this.”

  “It’s not long enough.”

  “It’ll stretch.”

  Pulling it slowly, the rope stretches out around the air unit, and I tie a knot.

  “Now, darling, tie a loop big enough for your foot.”

  After I finish the knot, Natasha takes my hands and leads me to the edge of the roof. “Put your foot in the loop.”

  I put my foot in and grab the silk rope. Looking over the edge of the two hundred foot tall building, I say, “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  “You forgot your suitcase,”

  Reaching down, I grab the handle, and Natasha pushes me.

  I fall a few feet, and the silk rope grows taut. My weight slowly stretches out the rope, and I lower twenty stories to the bottom. Tugging once, the rope drops and I coil it around my waist. I strengthening my suit. “I’m keeping the rope,” I tell Natasha, as her image fades to closer I get to the front entrance.

  Dressed in a suit, I walk up the steps to the front. A doorman nods in my direction and opens the door for me. After riding up the elevator, I get off on the sixteenth floor and head to room 128.

  On the way down the hall, Natasha walks beside me. “Inside your briefcase is a container that looks like hairspray. Spray it on Matthew’s face.”

  The small bottle is small enough to hide in my hand. I knock on the door. “I love this job.” A few seconds later, Mathew Clark opens it.

  “Hi, you’re back early. What’s up?” Since I look like his neighbor, he seems pleasantly surprised to see me.

  Spraying the mist in his face, he stands there, looking confused, and then drops to the ground. I step inside and quickly shut the door.

  Dragging him to the couch, I open my briefcase. Inside is a vial mixed with two drugs, a hypnotic and a memory blocker.

  After injecting him, I look around, waiting for the short-acting anesthetic I sprayed in his face to wear off. His apartment is spacious, the kitchen appliances new. I take it all in, admiring his place.

  Soon, his eyes open.

  “Hi, Matthew, how about logging on to your terminal?”

  Getting up, he goes to his computer and logs on like he’s on automatic pilot.

  “Can you access the Baron’s accounts from here?” I ask.

  “No, my password only works on my office computer.”

  He pulls out his wallet and gives me his pass card and codes for the office. I poc
ket them. “Do you know where they’re keeping the virus?”

  “An auto body shop.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Matthew, why don’t you lie on the couch and take a nap?”

  After lying down, I give him a sedative so he can sleep through the night. While my face changes into his, I look into his accounts. Most of his wealth is in shares in Blue Algae Inc., plus two million in credits. My fingers itch, wanting to take it. My mission is to find out where they’re keeping the virus. I can’t risk leaving a trace and setting off an alarm with so much at stake right now.

  Natasha finishes changing my face, eyes, and skin to match the sleeping man. I head for the elevator and make my way to the lobby. Waving to the doorman, I leave.

  The night sky is filled with stars. Without the streetlights, they’re even more vivid. Moving through the deserted streets carrying my briefcase, I walk twelve blocks to Matthew’s place of work without being noticed, thanks to the shadows.

  The Kelly Law building has four stories of offices above ground, the two below filled with computer servers. The law firm has emergency generators to keep their computers running. The outside of the building is unlit except for a dim light on the third floor.

  Walking over to the building, I put on a set of gloves. Matthew’s card lets me in the front door. Exiting the elevator on the third floor, I head down the hallway and turn my ear toward a snippet of conservation coming from a corner office.

  “It’s safe,” a man in the distance says.

  I move closer, silently, trying to listen. Peeking through the doorway, the office is lit by the light of a desk lamp. Behind the desk is the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair.

  “Plan B will be ready in the morning. Yes, sir….”

  He hangs up, cradles his head in his hands and lets out a deep sigh.

  Opening the briefcase, I take out the syringe and fill it with meds. I step from the shadows, walk through the open door and into the office.

  “Matthew, why are you here?” The man behind the desk looks tired, bags under his eyes and his thinning hair disheveled.

  “Must be hard, working for a madman.”

  He stands up and gives me a look like he suddenly doesn’t recognize me. “Who are you?”

  Even though my face matches Matthew, he is taller and heavier than me. My disguise will fool a face scanner, but not someone who knows Matthew well.

  “The last count there were fifty thousand dead in LA. Would have been more, but we got the word out before you could spread your poison. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  He opens his desk drawer, reaching for what I assume is a pistol. Natasha accelerates me towards him and closes the drawer on his hand. Reaching into my vest pocket, I inject the meds into his neck, then sit him in a chair, his head rolling to the side.

  “Who are you?”

  “Gary, one of the partners in Kelly Law.”

  “How do I meet the Baron?”

  “At his home, when he celebrates the Roman ritual, Punishment of the Dogs.”

  I lay him down on the floor and take his seat behind the computer terminal. The Law firm attends to the Baron’s accounts. Two days ago he bought an auto body shop about two miles from here. I notice large purchases of compressed air canisters and metal tubing. The Baron’s fortune is in the billions. Natasha, using the senior partner’s administrator level password, installs a backdoor password into Kelly Law’s computer.

  When I finish, I put Gary back in his chair and place his head on the desk. I search his pockets and find a set of keys with a Lexus logo on it. It looks like I’ll be riding in style.

  Opening the briefcase, I put on my bullet-resistant clothes, running shoes, and change from my lightweight thieving gloves into my driving gloves. After changing, I descend to the parking level, find his car and get in. Nice. Plush seats, AC and leather interior.

  I start the car and head west for about twenty blocks, coming to a barrier made of spider-silk erected by the National Guard. The fence in place is to protect the business district from looters. Removing the fence without the right solvent is impossible.

  After parking the car next to a fire hydrant, I get out and look around. The moon isn’t up and with no streetlights, there’s not a shadow to be seen. Getting out of the car, a group of people approaches me. One man in the lead and four behind. I put on my goggles and adjust for low light.

  I toss the keys to the lead man, “How did you get through?”

  One of them shines a flashlight in my eyes and my goggles compensate, while another approaches me, holding a blade.

  The mutants make a ring around me. “Those are some nice goggles,” the man with the knife says.

  I unstrap my baton, extending it with a flick of my wrist. “I’m also loaded with cash.”

  He moves towards me, blade first. I accelerate, step to the side, striking him in the calves and thighs with the baton, then quickly decelerate. Within seconds, he’s lying on the ground in a ball, moaning.

  “Sir, we don’t want any trouble,” a young woman says. “We’re looking for a place to hide from the looters.”

  I turn to the man on the ground. “Little advice…attacking people in the street is a lousy way to hide. What’s going on out there?”

  “The power got cut to the city, so there’s no water,” the woman says. “And with the exits blocked, the city is running out of food. It’s like the Wild West. Religious folk thinks it’s the end of the world.”

  I knock the tip of the baton against the sidewalk, and it collapses down again. “How did you guys get in?”

  She points to a gap in the webbing. I nod, move to the gap and crawl under the fence.

  “Watch your step. You’re in Inner-City Gang territory now.” the woman says as I walk away. In a few blocks, I open my briefcase, put on my ear jack and take the radio. After burying the case in an overflowing dumpster, I turn the radio on.

  “Hello, Lee,” I announce myself to Lauren. I don’t use her real name, just in case someone is listening.

  “Yes, Michael.” The sound of the airplane engine in the background, the pilot is circling Frisco to keep in radio range.

  “I’m heading to an auto body shop where they are working on plan B,” I say and sign off.

  Passing the Super Store, I notice the lights are out and the front doors open. Mutants with flashlights are carrying out arms full of merchandise. Two women fight over a case of baby formula.

  Walking through the crowd, a few people look my way when they see my goggles. A man grabs my shoulder and spins me around. Grabbing his balls, I look him in the eye. “Can I help you?”

  “Sorry, mister, my mistake.”

  I smile, thinking of one of Daniel’s sayings, “If you got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow.”

  After walking several blocks, the crowd clears out, and I enter a light industrial district. The auto body shop is located next to a rental car agency. Two men lean against the shop wall, smoking. Creeping through the shadows, I wait for one of the men to turn around, and I step out, kicking him in the back of the knee. Down he goes, screaming and holding onto his leg. I accelerate and close on the other man, my fist smashing his nose. After Natasha slows me down, I throw the spider-silk rope on top of the two men, where it winds around them and binds them tight. I pull off one of the men’s shoes and socks, then stuff a sock into each of their mouths. “You know, I hope it tastes as bad as it smells.”

  They struggle against the restraints and try to yell, but their efforts are futile.

  “Don’t worry; this will be over soon.” I walk into the auto body shop. The counter runs the length of the room, three terminals spaced evenly. Behind one of the doors, a band-saw is running loudly. Cracking the door open, I see several men installing a compressed air tank in the trunk of a three-wheeled car. Another is drilling a hole in the trunk and inserting some metal tubing. They are installing a plastic bottle that contain
s the virus into the cylinder.

  Closing the door, I walk back to the lobby. Rooms with glass fronts line the hall, and one is lit by a computer screen.

  Stepping inside, I notice someone has left their computer logged on. I sit down and check the records. In the last two days, twenty-five vehicles have come and gone for a retrofit.

  I break out. “Lee, we have a problem. They’re retrofitting cars to disperse the virus. The last five will be done by morning.”

  “Ditch the radio and leave now,” she says urgently. “I’m calling in an air strike. Head to the safe house by the river. Your ride is waiting for you.”

  Hiding my radio in the bottom of a recycle bin, I walk to the door where the men are still tied up. “I hope there is a hell so that you can burn it. But just in case, you’ll burn real soon.”

  They fight against the silk, and I slip through the shadows cast by a midnight moon. Near the Super Store, I exit the darkness and head to the safe house by the river.

  The sky lights up with brilliant white glare, followed by an explosion. The crowd in front of the store drops their packages and scatter like ants.

  The mutants stampede downhill like a herd of cattle, and I stay with them. On the way, we pass Mr. Fukui’s restaurant. Several blocks north is a bridge that crosses the bay. Except for a section big enough to let a flatbed truck pass, it’s a makeshift barbed-wire fence. Four National Guard men are manning the gate with rifles.

  The crowd runs forward, and one of the mutants picks up a bullhorn.

  “Stop, or you will be fired upon!”

  The wind shifts, bringing the acrid smell of burning rubber. The mutants run faster towards the bridge, their instinctive reaction to head towards the water.

  The four men point their weapons at the throng of approaching people. The man who talked into the bullhorn lowers his weapon, and his men follow suit. He pushes down on a lever; the cross arm raises, and the mob comes rushing through.

  The weight of people pushes against the small opening in the barricade. Hundreds of people back up against the bottleneck. Some mutants try to climb the fence but get caught in the barbed wire. A troll runs up and rams his shoulder into the metal fence post, making it bend.