by In Churl Yo
The morning hour brought a cool calm with it. Caleb hoped whoever or whatever might be out there would continue slumbering till long after he made it to where he was going.
The city was never his favorite place to visit—too many nooks and dark corners, too much concrete and steel. With all the desolation and decay, it was like walking through a 10-kilometer cemetery replete with ghosts both dead and dying.
Caleb felt much more comfortable amongst the trees and greenery. The world made sense out in the wild. There were rules to survival. Nature abided by them. But here in the city nothing seemed right to him. In fact, it all felt very wrong. These days he found himself spending more time walking asphalt than the grassy fields of home, but that was a choice he made long ago.
Caleb stopped. In the distance he heard it, faint but clear—a warning? Or was it more like a challenge? It didn’t matter. He had to move. An overturned semi-truck was his only option, so Caleb ran over, climbed onto the sideways cab section and long-jumped to the disconnected upright trailer. He found the center of the flat roof and lay on his back as quietly as he could. Now the sounds came closer—a cacophony of yips and growls. There might have been a dozen in the pack, maybe more, but he dared not look. The slightest movement and they’d know where he was. If he were discovered, they’d never leave. He’d have to find the alpha and kill it. That was his best chance—one he hoped he wouldn’t have to try.
The clacking of claws on pavement told him they had surrounded the trailer after having caught his scent. No doubt confused as to his whereabouts, they circled below him searching. The feral dogs were on the hunt now. It took less than a generation for the once domesticated canines to breed out the kibble and doggie chew life they’d become accustomed to as pets and for their base instincts to resurface.
If Caleb was being honest, he preferred them this way. One of his earliest memories was watching a family of wolves take down a deer. Even then he had appreciated the purity of that act. Only at the moment he’d rather they were stalking something else instead of him.
The dogs continued with their sounds of confusion until they started off one by one, soon followed by the rest of the pack, down the road in the direction where Caleb had already travelled. He sat up and watched the pack sprint away.
The meeting site wasn’t far. A quick cut through a shallow marsh would put Caleb near the spot, so he double-timed it and made it with 15 minutes to spare. He knew the location well—the University of Washington campus, a school he might very well have attended, following in his father’s footsteps, had life gone a little differently. The area to the east of his position used to be a dedicated nature preserve. Since the pandemic, nature had been free to run itself rampant making once manicured walking trails obscured by overgrowth. Still, it afforded Caleb plenty of cover to take a safe look around. He activated his night vision glasses and slipped them on. Everything appeared quiet.
“Here we go,” Caleb whispered. Far on the horizon, a small craft was buzzing its way toward him. Ahead of schedule, to boot, he thought. He knew they’d have to make this quick, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be careful. The intramural parking lot was long and open but didn’t have the strategic problems of say, a mall or shopping center—here Caleb could still hide and watch, so here is where they’d meet.
The drone was noisy, but that couldn’t be helped. It was the only thing making any noise at all, and that was the problem. It was like sparking a flare in the darkness—you couldn’t help but see it or fall sway to its hypnotic spell. Someone was sure to come looking.
Debris and loose grass swirled about as the ship landed. The rear hatch dropped, and Caleb zoomed in on it. What he saw next was not at all what he was expecting.
# # #
The world waited. At the end of the ramp, just steps from where she stood, Zoah could see the pavement, the litter, grass. All of it and so much more right outside waiting patiently for her arrival, only she couldn’t get her legs to move.
She looked down at her feet. They were, like the rest of her body, encased in the soft pink glow of an emergency EVAC inflatable suit she had taken from home. It was meant to temporarily protect its wearer from the virus in the event their home’s environment had been compromised. She felt like she was walking around in a giant rubber bubble. Zoah felt dubious of the suit’s effectiveness and yet was thankful to have it on right now.
Heelo took the initiative, as he was programmed to, and flew out first to assess their situation. The parking lot was empty. The toy drone turned around and made a sound that Zoah interpreted as an all clear. She stepped down from the ship and into the world. Well, I’m not dead yet, the wayward girl said to herself. In minutes her confidence had risen to the point where she felt like exploring a little.
Zoah had only taken a dozen steps when Heelo buzzed in front of her sounding agitated. “What’s the matter? I’m just going to look around,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Heelo swiveled around as if to say look, then shined a spotlight at the far walkway. She saw movement—a lot of it. A small crowd was headed her way and had quickly formed a perimeter around her and the cargo drone. She stepped back toward the ship, hoping to take refuge inside it.
“Look at her shiny suit,” someone in the darkness said.
“There’s food in there. There’s food!” said another.
Zoah gathered her courage. “Do—uh, do any of you know Milton Lee?” she asked. There was no answer. Instead a thin man in tattered clothes ran at her only to be encased in an arc of powerful electricity shot from Heelo. The intruder dropped, knocked out cold. Zoah was impressed. “I didn’t…I didn’t know you could do that!”
Then a rock hit Zoah’s head, ricocheting off her suit, leaving her unharmed but off balance, and she fell away from the ship’s payload ramp. Another rock hit the vehicle’s windshield—cracking the glass and initiating the transport drone’s automatic emergency recall cycle. The ramp lifted and closed. The turbines powered up for liftoff, pushing the crowd back and kicking up dust in all directions. Soon the vehicle was gone, and Zoah was left stranded—surrounded by a bunch of scary-looking strangers.
The EVAC suit was cumbersome and left her vulnerable, but she managed to finally stand. Heelo flew slow circles around her to ward off another possible attack. As they drew closer, Zoah could make out their faces and some detail. They were thin and dirty, desperate. Their eyes felt cold. Were they infected? There was no way to know for sure.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Despite constantly maneuvering about, Heelo was going to be outflanked soon. Zoah picked up the nearby rock that had hit her and lifted it in defiance. What a world, she thought, ready for anything.
“BACK OFF!” a voice in the distance yelled.
Caleb stepped slowly into view, leveling a sawed-off shotgun in his hands for all to see. The crowd moved away from him as he approached the young woman.
“Hello, miss…” he said.
“Zoah,” she offered. “Zoah Lightsea. Thank you for helping. Your timing is awesome.”
“That’s fine, Zoah. I’m Caleb. Am I right to assume you were supposed to meet someone here this morning?”
“Yes. Someone who’s going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble when I see him again—Milton Lee.”
Caleb chuckled. “Fancy that. I was supposed to meet Milton here myself. You think maybe we should go somewhere and figure out where he is together?”
Zoah nodded an absolute affirmative, and the pair backed away into the pre-dawn darkness with Heelo following behind. Meanwhile the crowd—despite still being hungry and a bit miffed for having to settle for nothing—did not dispute this and let the two of them go on their way.
CHAPTER 7
Milton was in a hell of a lot of trouble, that much was certain.
He’d been stripped of all his gear and left in a concrete box wearing loose-fitting pajamas and a bad pair of slippers. Only a teddy bear would have completed the ensemble.
Maybe he’d ask for one later.
There was some good news. Milton had been able to erase all the data in his suit and the mini-drive so these guys had no idea who he was yet, but they’d find out soon enough. Until then, he could do nothing but bide his time.
If he could just get rid of his headache. When he had arrived to wherever this was, his abductors saw fit to administer a bit of knockout gas, the effects of which still lingered.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. They cast a gray-green pall over everything. The room consisted of a bed with a paper-thin mattress and accompanying metal toilet. It was all perfectly depressing.
The cell door clanged open, revealing a prim man dressed in a perfectly tailored, pressed military uniform. He entered carrying two chairs with him and set them down in the middle of the room facing each other.
“Please, sit,” he said. Milton thought about it then reluctantly took the seat he was offered. “You’re Korean, yes?”
“First-generation Taiwanese,” Milton answered. “My paternal grandparents immigrated from South Korea after the flu hit. Dad met my mom here and got married. She was Korean, too. I came along not too long after that.”
“Ah, so you’re a fellow native, then.”
“Yes, but then everyone here’s from somewhere else now. Isn’t that right?” asked Milton.
The officer laughed. “We’re all Ceres Corporation citizens now, I’m afraid,” he said. “I am Captain Taan.”
Milton offered him a slight wave. Taan held his smile.
“What were you doing in that drone?”
“Joy riding.”
“Really,” said Taan unconvinced. “You weren’t going very far or very fast when we caught you.”
“I know. I picked a bad ride.”
“It takes a skilled technician to gain access and control a drone the way you did today. Not to mention getting yourself outside the quarantine zone. I’m most impressed. Tell me, did you go to school and learn to do this or are you self-taught?”
Milton remained silent, a look of defiance on his face.
Taan stood from his chair, walked around it and leaned against its back. “Why don’t we make this easy? Tell us your name. We already have your fingerprints. We took a sample of your DNA.”
“Then you should know who I am.”
“Quite right. However, we could not come up with a match for either, but you knew that already, didn’t you?” Taan circled back and stood behind Milton. He came in close to his prisoner’s ear. “Even the most skilled are not infallible. Also, I tend to find that your kind does not respond very well to… PAIN.”
The officer struck Milton from behind, the punch landing on his neck just below the jawline, causing him to fall to the ground. Taan twirled the empty chair around and pinned Milton down with it, the crossbar pressed snugly against his neck.
Taan sat down backwards in the seat and leaned, applying pressure to Milton’s airway until he could no longer breathe. The military man observed with genuine fascination each contorted look, gurgle and futile flail Milton produced. Just as Milton was about to pass out, Taan stood and removed the chair.
“I like you,” the captain said, “even if you are a Kiter.”
The word made Milton pause from coughing and look up at Taan. That made the officer smile, then he delivered a vicious kick to Milton’s ribs. “Now we’re having fun!” Taan said.
Milton curled up into a ball. He really wished they could get this over with.
“I think soon we will have a real conversation, my young friend.” Taan stepped over and offered another kick—this one across Milton’s face, causing blood to spill from his nose and mouth.
“Stop! Just…stop. I’ll tell you the truth,” Milton wheezed.
“Do you know what this is?” asked Taan. He leaned against the far wall and pulled a smooth thin white cylinder from his pocket. Holding it up between two fingers, he presented it to Milton. “It’s a cigarette. They’re illegal. They aren’t even made anymore, but I discovered them recently and found a way that I could enjoy them. And I do enjoy them. I’m sure you’ve seen them in all the old movies.”
The officer lit the tobacco and took in a long drag, exhaling the smoke from his nose. He smiled. “There’s really nothing like it.”
“It smells horrible,” said Milton.
“Yes,” Taan agreed. With the cigarette dangling between his lips, he walked over and lifted the bleeding man and placed him back onto his chair. Milton slumped over with his legs splayed out. Taan again sat across from him. “Shall we begin again? I believe you offered me the truth.”
“Right. The truth. Here it is: brains aren’t everything. In your case, they’re nothing. I mean, are you actually this stupid or is today a special occasion?” Milton would have held his laughter a lot longer had Taan not produced a knife and plunged it deep into his thigh, leaving it there. His screams echoed against the cold concrete walls for several moments but soon turned into sobbing.
The man in uniform sighed. “You disappoint me,” Taan said and dropped his cigarette to the floor, killing the ember beneath the heel of his boot. “I expected more from you.”
Milton forced a bloodied smile. “Well, you know what they say, Taan. Life’s full of disappointment.” He grabbed the knife handle with both hands, pulled the blade from his leg and lunged towards the officer with it. The two tumbled onto the floor. Rolling now, they fought for leverage against the weapon, its tip pointed downward at Taan’s chest.
“You won’t escape,” Taan seethed.
Milton leaned hard downward, raising his legs off the floor and pushed the blade into his captor’s shoulder. “Watch me,” he said. Then as Taan roared in pain, clawing at the knife embedded in him, he struck the man’s chin, knocking him out cold.
Milton shuffled over and laid down, careful not to further distress his leg. “I really didn’t want to do that,” he said to the unconscious man next to him, “but you totally deserved it.”
He reached across and decoupled the cufflink from Taan’s arm. In a few minutes, he had hacked into the prison’s command and control systems. Milton smiled.
This is going to work.
He unbuttoned the officer’s jacket, ripped off a shirtsleeve and tied the torn cloth tightly around his wound. Then Milton did his best to bind and gag his captor, hoping it would be enough to keep him out of his way until he could escape.
Hobbling over to the cell door, he leaned against the wall for support and readied himself. While holding the knife he entered a code onto his cufflink and said a quick prayer. The bolt clanged open, and Milton peeked out into the hallway, the weapon high and ready to strike. No one was there. No one came running. Now he only had to decide: left or right.
He picked a direction and started walking.
After a few minutes, Milton already needed a break. His leg was throbbing. How big is this place anyway? Then he heard pounding and wondered if it was his head or something else. He craned his neck to listen. Someone was banging something against a nearby door. He went over and pounded his fist on it in response.
“Who’s there?” came a voice from inside. “Please, let me out!”
Looking up, he noted the numbers etched above the frame and found the corresponding cell location on his cufflink, but there was no indication of any occupant inside. A few keystrokes later, the door clanged open. A young woman ran out.
“It’s been days,” she said while hugging him. “I haven’t seen or heard anyone until you showed up. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. I’m Jack,” he lied. It was the first name that popped into his head.
“Katherine,” she answered. “How were you able to open the door?”
Milton raised his arm, showing her the confiscated cufflink. “I have keys.”
“Oh my God. You’re hurt!”
“Just a scratch, really.”
“You have to let me look at it. I’m a nurse—sort of,” said Katherine. She pulled him inside her ce
ll and sat him on her bed. The makeshift bandage was already soaked in red. “It’s deep. The cut needs to be irrigated and sutured.”
Milton fought the sudden nausea that had reared its ugly head and referred to his cufflink for help. “This looks like a first aid station,” he said and pointed to a room down the hallway on the map schematic.
“Well, I’d say it was a good thing we found each other then, Jack.” She lifted him up, wrapped his arm over her shoulder and led him back to the corridor. “Probably should hurry.” Milton wasn’t going to argue.
In no time, Katherine was attending the wound. “You’re lucky it missed the artery,” she said. “It’s pretty nasty though.”
“You should see the other guy,” said Milton. His fingers rubbed against the paper that had been rolled across the top of the elevated platform then tore it as a sudden jolt of pain ran up the side of his body.
“Just a local. Should make the throbbing go away,” Katherine said. “I’m not a doctor, but I think the muscle should heal okay.”
“Thanks for saving my leg.”
“I might’ve starved to death if you hadn’t set me free,” she replied. “The guards just stopped showing up. I don’t know what I would’ve done. Consider us even.”
Milton nodded, then inspected her work.
“There,” Katherine announced. “That should do it.” The injury had been sewn up and covered with a large bandage. “Just need to wrap this and we can get out of here.”
Gauze was wound around Milton’s thigh and after putting his pants back on he tested his leg. “Hey, that’s not bad,” he said. As Katherine cleaned up the supplies, Milton checked his cufflink for a way out.
“What does it say? Are we in luck?” she asked when she saw what he was doing.
“Does bad luck count? This map won’t even give a wide view of the facility. The best I can do is scan a couple dozen meters in either direction. Better than nothing, but it doesn’t do much to help our escape.”
“We should keep going in the same direction,” Katherine suggested. “It’s not like we have another option.”