Helix_Episode 1

by Nathan M. Farrugia

  Nasira’s Chevrolet didn’t have bullet-resistant windows .

  She pumped the brakes. The Daewoo crunched into her. The shooter’s elbows slipped and he smacked his head on the roof. Damien lined the UMP’s sight and fired a burst through his windshield. The UMP was wonderfully accurate, each round catching the dazed man just below his throat. He slumped back into the Daewoo .

  The driver accelerated, ramming Nasira’s car. She couldn’t match his speed. The Daewoo pushed them in reverse along the freeway .

  ‘Let’s see if their car is armored.’ Damien squeezed off a round .

  It punched a small hole through Nasira’s windshield, but it hardly dented the enemy’s .

  ‘Armored.’ Nasira grappled the steering wheel. ‘Chute one of two .’

  Damien knew that even a small movement from the Daewoo would spin them out of control. Her rucksack was slim enough to wear while sitting, so he slipped it over both shoulders. This ride wasn’t going to last long .

  ‘Get us out of here,’ he said .

  ‘Where?’ Nasira yelled .

  In the rear-view mirror, Damien could see the white condominiums parting to reveal wider ground. He hoped that would give them some options. There was a marina on one side and thick fort walls on the other. He checked the side mirror. The leading white Renault dropped back and rode beside them. All they needed to do was open fire and the rounds would snip through the Chevrolet like it was made of tin foil .

  There was a large open plaza coming up on their left. It narrowed toward a clock tower. Underneath the tower were archways for pedestrians. Nasira saw it too. She accelerated suddenly, pushing the Chevrolet as hard as it would go in reverse. For a moment, her bumper separated from the Daewoo. She had the space. She turned the wheel sharply. Her Chevrolet peeled off, crossing to the next lane .

  The Renault dropped back, poised to ram them as they made their escape. Through his side window, Damien saw the Renault’s rear coming right for them .

  Nasira kept her foot to the floor, bouncing them onto the paved plaza. The Renault came after them, swerving off the road and onto the pavement. Damien covered his face as the Renault screeched along his door, tearing off the side mirror. But they weren’t quick enough to block Nasira’s escape. She scraped through .

  In their wake, the Daewoo overtook the Renault and accelerated across the plaza. She watched through the rear-view mirror and she hit her horn to scatter pedestrians .

  ‘Faster,’ Damien said through clenched teeth. ‘Faster .’

  Nasira tore the Chevrolet under the archway. It was barely wide enough but they scraped through, right into Cartagena’s old town. She spun the car around, switching to second gear and accelerating again. The Daewoo crashed into Damien’s door. It buckled from the impact and almost sent the Chevrolet straight through a shopfront. Damien felt dizzy .

  ‘You OK?’ Nasira yelled .

  ‘Yeah.’ Things moved past him in a sickening blur .

  He patted himself down, checked for injuries. No blood. Nasira turned hard and plunged the car into a cobbled side street, sending locals scattering. Nasira weaved around taxis, riding up on the sidewalks. The Chevrolet’s tires weren’t going to hold up for much longer .

  Damien peered in the rear-view and saw the Daewoo. It was momentarily caught behind a maneuvering truck .

  Nasira gripped the steering wheel. ‘This some crazy shit he got us into .’

  ‘Who?’ he mumbled, straightening up .

  ‘Jay.’ She almost choked on his name. ‘We lost the van.’ She hit the wheel with her fist. ‘We lost the goddamn van .’

  Colonial buildings streaked past in candy blue, orange, yellow, and aquamarine .

  The white Renault 4x4 appeared on one side, moving like liquid under the sun .

  ‘Shit,’ Nasira said .

  She accelerated, tearing from the side street into a large, open plaza. The Renault crashed into their rear and accelerated, pushing them forward .

  Nasira wrestled the wheel, but the Chevrolet turned, turned some more. The Renault eased off for a moment, waited for them to expose their side, then rammed them. Nasira’s Chevrolet skidded through tables and chairs toward a restaurant. Everything smeared around Damien as the car rolled onto one side. He hung from the side, his UMP falling past Nasira and clattering under her seat. The Renault’s engine was a low growl, approaching. That wasn’t encouraging. He pushed up at his door but it was jammed shut .

  Beneath him, Nasira kicked out the windshield. It came off in one fractured sheet. She gripped her pistol, but before she could climb out, the Renault rammed the Chevrolet’s underside. They both held on. The Chevrolet slid roof-first through the restaurant. Damien covered his face as metal screeched and glass shattered around him. The Renault finished its charge and backed off, probably so they could get out and open fire. An unarmored vehicle like Nasira’s Chevrolet offered no protection against even small calibers .

  Nasira was already out and running for the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. Damien had lost his UMP, but he still had the pistol and Nasira’s rucksack on his back. He wedged the pistol farther down his waistband before climbing out into the restaurant. He landed on broken tables and flatware .

  Gunfire erupted behind him, punching through the Chevrolet. Damien ran toward Nasira, through the kitchen and into another side street. Even in the shade, the air was warm. Nasira had stopped. The Daewoo with the tinted windows was barreling toward them. Nasira didn’t hesitate for long. She sprinted right for it, then darted sideways into the open doors of a luxury hotel. Damien slipped in behind her .

  He ran through a shimmering lobby, tracking Nasira into an open courtyard. She picked up a small marble statue on the way and held it against her as she pushed through a pair of spindly women in black skirts. Damien caught up with her and climbed the flight of stairs. He picked a front-facing room and sidestepped so Nasira could slam her statue down on the door handle. He pushed the door and ran through to the timber balcony .

  ‘They’re coming up now,’ Nasira said .

  ‘Which way?’ Damien asked .

  Without thinking, she pointed to their right .

  Damien took the lead. The balconies ran seamlessly down part of the street, and he sprinted along them. He could hear Nasira’s steps behind him, and shouts from the street below. There were three more balconies ahead, but no more. He took a running leap over the railing and landed on the next one. Nasira landed behind him .

  ‘Stop!’ she whispered .

  He turned to face Nasira. Her copper skin was flushed red. Quietly, she pointed under their feet, then launched herself into the street below. She landed right on top of the Daewoo and aimed her pistol into the sunroof .

  The gunshot echoed down the alley. The driver’s head splashed the windshield .

  ‘Well, that’s one way of doing it,’ Damien said .

  A small yellow taxi slowed behind the Daewoo, its driver confused by the chaos. More cautious than Nasira, Damien hung from the lip of the balcony and dropped neatly onto its roof, sinking into a crouch to absorb the impact. He slid off and moved along the sidewalk, close to the wall. As he reached the hotel entrance, he drew his pistol .

  A woman stepped out in front of him, an AK-108 in both hands, looking in the direction of the Daewoo. Right behind her, another armed man. They saw Nasira and raised their rifles. Damien kicked under her barrel, whipping it skyward. The rifle’s iron sight smacked her in the nose. Damien drove his foot into her stomach. She fell back into her accomplice. They both dropped to the marble floor, entangled .

  With his pistol, Damien shot the woman in the chest, then in the head. The man beneath her struggled to free his weapon. Damien closed the gap quickly and, with his knee, pinned his rifle to the floor. Damien kept his pistol on the survivor, but not too close .

  ‘Who are you?’ Damien asked in Spanish .

  He repeated in English just to be sure .

  The man didn’t reply, but tried to shift
from under the dead weight. Blood spread from the man’s stomach. Damien didn’t know whose blood, so had to act fast. He locked the man’s elbow and levered it up. The man winced .

  ‘Who are you?’ Damien asked again .

  The man stared at him, his chest rising and falling .

  ‘Who do you work for ?’

  ‘No one,’ he whispered in an American accent .

  There was a white armband around the man’s upper arm. The same armband those border control officers were wearing. Damien lifted the man’s elbow higher, almost to breaking point .

  The Daewoo reversed behind them. Damien turned to see Nasira now at the wheel .

  ‘Why are you after us?’ Damien said, his gun pressed into the man’s head .

  He could hear yelling in the distance, a vehicle accelerating .

  ‘What do you want?’ Damien shouted .

  He managed a weak smile. ‘You can’t protect them .’

  ‘Damien!’ Nasira called from the Daewoo .

  ‘Protect who?’ Damien shouted .

  The smile faded. ‘Aberrations .’

  ‘Don’t make me leave your ass behind,’ Nasira said .

  Damien leaned in. ‘What was your job?’ he asked. ‘Who do you think we are ?’

  The man’s chest stopped moving. Damien swore and climbed into Nasira’s new ride .

  She hit the gas. ‘Damien, if you’re going to interrogate someone, the key is not to kill ‘em first .’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Six years ago

  St Petersburg, Russia

  O lesya blinked snow from her eyes. Flakes fell from the sky and collected on the street lamps. The garden was empty, except for the monument of Catherine the Great. The empress wielded her scepter above her flowing gown and stared out over the treetops. She wasn’t scared, like Olesya .

  Underneath the empress, Olesya could see Ekaterina Dashkova, the first woman in the world to lead a national academy of sciences. She clasped a book in both hands and almost seemed to smile at Olesya .

  People walked the street of Nevsky Prospekt, but no one paid Olesya much attention. She wasn’t cold but her arms were shaking. She folded them, climbed the steps of the monument and crawled over the bronze sign. Using it as a foothold, she reached up along the smooth surface. She was just tall enough to reach Ekaterina’s feet .

  Removing a glove, she used her hand to check the folds of the gown while holding onto Ekaterina’s foot with her other hand so she wouldn’t fall off. Each fold in the bronze gown was hollow. But there was nothing inside. It was only after her second thorough search, when her fingers started to feel numb, that she discovered a fold she’d missed before. She reached as high as she could and her cold fingers brushed something that wasn’t metal. A scrunched ball of paper .

  She crawled back down off the monument, making sure no one was watching her. Her heart pumped faster as she unraveled the note. Sure enough, scrawled in faded ink, there was an address, one not terribly far from her old home. Her brother’s handwriting .

  Olesya scrunched the paper and shoved it in her pocket. She hoped he hadn’t given up on her .

  * * *

  I llarion found Yuri halfway through demolishing a sandwich of cold meat and salad. The security outpost smelled of hard-boiled egg .

  ‘Have you seen Olesya ?’

  Yuri raised an unruly eyebrow and picked lettuce from his black mustache .

  ‘The young one? She hasn’t been through here .’

  ‘The watchtower hasn’t seen her either,’ Illarion said .

  The phone on Yuri’s desk rang. He carefully placed his sandwich on the table and answered with spidery fingers. ‘Yes? I see. How long ago?’ He hung up, puzzled. ‘How could she make it so far without being noticed ?’

  ‘Because I trained her to,’ Illarion said. ‘Who was on the phone ?’

  ‘One of our drivers. He just found your gloves in his truck,’ Yuri said. ‘And the truck is in St Petersburg .’

  Illarion had given his gloves to Olesya .

  ‘Assemble your Spetsnaz,’ Illarion said. ‘I want everyone at the gate in five .’

  ‘Just for one girl?’ Yuri asked, reaching for his rifle. ‘Does she have superpowers ?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But your team isn’t to handle her .’

  Yuri hit a button, which Illarion knew would trigger the alert for Yuri’s team .

  Illarion walked out into the snow .

  ‘Her family are in St Petersburg, aren’t they?’ Yuri asked, calling out from the doorway .

  ‘It’s why she’s there,’ Illarion said .

  ‘Sure, but the whole team? What’s the worst case scenario?’ Yuri asked. ‘Her family find out she’s back? I’m sure they can keep it a secret. We can manage this .’

  Illarion turned sharply. ‘It’s too late to manage. The family’s ability to keep a secret is the least of our problems right now .’

  ‘You relocated every single one of those families,’ Yuri said. ‘They’re safe .’

  ‘No one’s safe .’

  * * *

  O lesya whispered into her older brother’s ear. ‘Wake up .’

  Zakhar rubbed his eyes. ‘What are you doing here ?’

  ‘Visiting is good, but home is better,’ she said. ‘I’m going to build a snow dinosaur, and I’m not doing it by myself .’

  He sat upright and poked her in the face .

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘You’re real,’ he said. ‘You’re here! What about your scholarship ?’

  ‘I know.’ She shushed him. ‘But I wanted to … I needed to see you .’

  ‘You never replied to any of my letters !’

  ‘You sent me letters?’ Olesya swallowed. ‘I never got them .’

  Zakhar had grown quite a bit since she’d last seen him. His face was longer and his hair was shorter. He smelled of toothpaste. Even though this bedroom was new, she felt at home for the first time in a while .

  ‘It’s the middle of the night,’ Zakhar said. ‘How did you find me ?’

  ‘Your note on the monument. Catherine the Great .’

  ‘I never thought you’d see it!’ Zakhar was speaking loudly again. ‘I put it there just in case .’

  ‘Olesya, darling?’ It was her mother’s voice .

  ‘Great. They know I’m here,’ she whispered .

  Zakhar leaned close. ‘You don’t want to see them ?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m just not ready. I need a second.’ She tried to calm herself .

  What was she going to tell them? Could she tell them anything ?

  ‘Can you come out, please?’ her mother asked .

  Zakhar walked to the door, but he waited for Olesya to open it. Something didn’t feel right .

  Always go through the window .

  Olesya opened the door .

  ‘Come in,’ Denton said. ‘Don’t be a stranger .’

  Her body iced over .

  Denton stood with four men in dark winter coats, overshadowing her mother and father. They were soldiers. Her mother sat in her chair by the window while her father paced .

  ‘Olesya,’ her father said. ‘We need to talk about what you’ve done .’

  The blinds were drawn and only a single lamp lit the living room, casting nightmarish shadows over Denton’s face .

  ‘We were very worried about you,’ Denton said .

  Olesya’s heart raced. She’d never heard him speak Russian before. He did so almost perfectly .

  ‘You’re the man from the scholarship,’ Zakhar said .

  ‘Yes, I am .’

  ‘I’m sure Olesya is very sorry for her actions,’ her father said, looking from Denton to her. ‘And she will do whatever it takes to resume the program .’

  ‘Luckily, we implanted trackers into all of our candidates.’ Denton eyed Zakhar as he stepped inside, beside Olesya. ‘Yours has been removed, but what about the children who weren’t selected for Project GATE ?’

  Denton glanced bet
ween the two of them. His smile vanished .

  ‘Since your disappearance,’ Denton said, ‘we’ve been keeping an eye on your family and anywhere you were likely to turn up .

  ‘Olesya, why did you leave?’ her father asked. ‘Zakhar would never have dishonored our family .’

  There was only one way to play this , Olesya thought. There was only one way out .

  ‘I was abducted,’ Olesya said. ‘They interrogated me and then I escaped .’

  Denton stepped forward, into the center of the room. The lamp lit him evenly, across his hooked nose and shaved head .

  ‘Children three that nestle near, pleased a simple tale to hear,’ Denton said .

  She didn’t know what that meant, so she maintained her confusion .

  Denton took another step forward and repeated the phrase. His hand reached for something under his jacket. ‘This is curious,’ he said .

  He nodded and two of his soldiers closed on Olesya. They reached down and grabbed her by both arms, holding her in place just below her shoulders. She could smell the leather of their gloves. The other two men seized her parents, whose shouts of protest drowned out everything else .

  ‘Let them go!’ Olesya shouted .

  Denton threaded a long tube-shaped suppressor to the barrel of his shiny black pistol .

  ‘What are you doing?’ her mother shouted. ‘She’s just a girl !’

  Denton shot Olesya’s mother. It sounded like a staple gun; polite and soft. Blood splashed on the window. She fell in front of the sofa .

  Olesya pried one arm free, but the soldiers grabbed it, held her fast. Blood trickled down the window pane. Olesya looked around, saw her brother standing there, inanimate. He didn’t move. But her father collapsed over her mother, screaming and sobbing. Olesya collapsed to her knees .

  Denton lowered his pistol. ‘You’re not a very good liar, Olesya .’

  This wasn’t real. She tried to breathe. Her mother lay dead on the floorboards and her father sobbed. This wasn’t really happening. She was in the wrong world and she had to get back. This was a nightmare she had to escape .