by Bob Mayer
“Mac, you go with Scout,” Nada said. “Eagle, you go, too, and figure out the new old Snake. Shouldn’t take long—you trained on it. Mac, hook up with Doc and Ivar, leave the boxes on the Snake, and bring the other gear in SUVs we can park in here. Let’s play this like we did in North Carolina.”
“Except Scout can drive,” Moms said.
“Oh goodie!” Scout exclaimed, grabbing a set of car keys off the rack near the door to the house. “Do I get paid?”
The two lab rats down in the Can were just that. They’d found a flashlight and were groping their way toward the elevator, praying power for it wasn’t shut down.
They reached the steel doors for the elevator. There was no light behind the buttons, which wasn’t an encouraging sign.
The woman pressed the button.
Nothing.
At the Ranch, Ms. Jones listened to the reports that came in from Russia and Japan. Their Kamiokandes had picked up a Rift forming, but her own Can was silent. She turned to Pitr, who was seated at a desk next to her bed, bringing up the data being forwarded from the other two Cans.
“What is wrong at Area 51?”
“Power outage in the Can,” Pitr said. “Support is working to restore it.”
“At exactly the moment when a Rift starts to form.” It was not a question. But Ms. Jones followed the statement with one. “Where is the intersection from Japan and Russia?”
“Eastern Tennessee.”
“But we can’t pinpoint it,” Ms. Jones murmured. “We have a traitor. The question is whether it’s Mr. Doc or Mr. Ivar.”
“Ivar,” Pitr said without hesitation.
“Perhaps,” Ms. Jones said. “Perhaps. We must not overlook the obvious. Have the personnel on duty detained and send Mr. Frasier to interview them.”
“I will.”
“When will power be restored?”
Pitr looked at his screen. “Twenty-five to thirty minutes.”
“Just about the time the Rift will open. Alert the Nightstalkers.”
Neeley slid off the examining table and put her clothes back on. Her chest ached, but she was functional. All systems normal. She was a go as far as the Cellar’s physician was concerned. She had a feeling the bar wasn’t too high; breathing seemed to be the standard.
The doctor had left her the usual assortment of pills, carefully sorted into different colored compartments in the compact case she was supposed to slip into her pocket. There was nothing subtle about it: red if she needed a jolt. Blue if she needed to come down off the red without crashing. Green for crashing when she was safe so she could rest and be ready for the next mission that needed a red.
She tried to remember the last time she’d had a green.
She didn’t like using the red because it put a ticking clock on the mission, but she also accepted most of her missions had a ticking clock to start with. Once in a while she had to go red in order to beat it.
Neeley knew who was next: the Cellar’s psychologist, Dr. Golden, and that interview was going to be a different story. Just breathing wasn’t going to clear that hurdle. Neeley slid the double-edged commando knife into her boot. It had been Gant’s and years of sharpening had shrunk the blade. Neeley knew the time was coming when she would have to replace it. But it was a connection, one she needed. She was good enough with it that snapping the blade on bone with an awkward thrust or slice hadn’t yet been an issue. She always went for the soft tissue over vital spots.
She looped the belt, with the steel wire garrote hidden on the inside, around her waist. She attached the holster to the belt and then drew her pistol, making sure there was a round in the chamber and the safety was off.
“My finger is my safety,” she whispered to herself as she looked in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. The woman looking back was pretty ragged.
“You look like shit,” she said to herself, and then frowned. Talking to herself twice in a row.
She sensed someone sliding through the door behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dr. Golden reflected in the mirror. “What do you make of people who speak to themselves, Doctor?” Neeley asked.
“It’s not quite as bad when you talk to yourself in the mirror,” Golden said. “Those people in the airport with the Bluetooth, who look like they’re talking to no one until you see the little device, they freak me out sometimes.”
Neeley turned to face her. “I call those people assholes. I don’t want to hear their end of the conversation. Sometimes I just want to start an imaginary conversation just as loud and see how they react.”
“You seem the same,” Golden said.
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“How did it feel to die?”
“Cutting to the chase, aren’t we?” Neeley didn’t wait for an answer. “Did I see a long white corridor? Did I go to the light? It went black. Total black. Nothingness. Then I was back. Sorry to ruin your expectations.”
“Why do you think I have expectations of life after death?” Golden asked.
“You seem the type,” Neeley said.
“What type is that?”
“Always asking questions,” Neeley said with a grin, and Golden smiled.
“Those white corridors or going toward the light,” Golden said, “are more likely the random firing of brain cells as they either are deprived of, or overloaded with, power. Our brains work on electricity. So they’re most likely a hallucination.”
Neeley stared at the psychiatrist, wondering how she could have known about Burns turning into Gant and then realizing she didn’t. It was just a coincidence. But Neeley didn’t really believe in coincidences.
Golden opened the door and gestured. “We’ll meet in the interview room. I’ll be down there in a little bit.” She disappeared, shutting the door behind her.
Neeley stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths. Had she really seen Gant? Had Burns’s eyes actually turned gold? Was she losing her mind?
“Fuck it.” Neeley opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor that was part of the Cellar complex.
Nada spotted the convoy coming into the community. Scout was in the lead in her father’s SUV, followed by four big black SUVs behind her.
This wasn’t going to be easy to explain to the neighbors, but that was the least of Nada’s worries at the moment. They had the garage doors open and all four black SUVs rolled in as Scout parked outside. One of the SUVs was driven by a Support person, and after unloading the gear in the back, they carefully buckled Scout’s unconscious mother and father inside for the trip back to the field.
And their sorely needed rest, according to Scout.
Nada hit the close buttons for the garage as car doors opened and the Nightstalkers were finally intact as a team, except for Eagle.
“Scout,” Nada said, making the one introduction, “this is Ivar. Ivar, Scout.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ivar said.
“The same,” Scout replied.
“Doc, check Roland out,” Moms said. “He decided to do a high dive from some high power lines.”
“Roland,” Doc said in a tone that indicated his displeasure.
“I’m fine,” Roland insisted.
“He grimaced,” Scout said. “I never saw him grimace before.”
“You never saw him hurt before,” Moms said. “I have.”
“I’m fine,” Roland repeated. He lifted up an M240 machine gun with one hand over his head and twirled it. “See? Fine.”
“Let me check anyway,” Doc said.
“He’s got a couple of busted ribs,” Mac said. “Not that anyone respects my medical expertise.”
Roland sighed and allowed Doc to take a look.
“My mom would not be happy about this at all,” Scout said happily, taking in the piles of weapons, demolitions, and assor
ted gear scattered about. “Lucky you knocked her out.”
“It was mission essential,” Moms began. “We—”
“It’s okay,” Scout said. “Really. I can assure you she’s had worse nights.”
Nada stood on a plastic case full of something deadly. “All right. We’re—”
And then their phones all started ringing: “Lawyers, Guns, and Money.”
“What the frak?” Kirk said.
“We’re getting Zevoned on a Zevon?” Mac wondered out loud.
“Huh?” Roland said.
“This is curious,” Kirk said as he silenced his phone.
One by one the phones went quiet and the team turned to Moms. Scout was literally bouncing up and down. “Fireflies? Killer heavy equipment? Possessed pool?”
Nada held up a hand. “Technically, the first Zevon was actually ‘I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead,’ not ‘Lawyers.’ Didn’t you get it?”
“Someone had our phones,” Eagle said.
“The Loop?” Mac said. He turned to Scout. “From you?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Scout said. “Do I get a gun?”
“Yes, from Scout,” Nada said. “No on the gun.”
Moms had her finger pressed against her ear, getting an update from Ms. Jones. Even Scout fell silent as they watched her. She nodded and then pulled her finger away. “There’s a Rift forming near here, so the ‘Sleep’ was a good call.”
“Coordinates?” Nada asked.
Moms shook her head. “Ms. Jones says the Japanese and the Russians have got it located somewhere in the Knoxville area. Our Can is without power. Going to take them a little while to get it running and get us exact coordinates.”
Doc paused, in the midst of wrapping Roland’s ribs. “Our Can is down? That is most unusual. And very suspicious timing.”
Moms held up her hand, indicating silence, and spoke into her radio. “Eagle, bring the Snake in. We’ll load up and recon the area and be ready to shut the Rift as soon as we get a fix.”
“Inbound,” Eagle said. “ETA ten mikes.”
Moms gave a hand signal to Kirk to change freqs to the Ranch. “Ms. Jones, we’ll be airborne in ten minutes and monitoring for location. Did you hear back from Cleaner regarding the toothbrush?”
“He did not replace it,” Ms. Jones said. “He did scan everything and found nothing unusual.”
“Roger. He made a mistake or missed something.” Moms turned to the team. “Gear up.”
As they proceeded to do just that, Mac, as he was wont to do, asked a question. “If a Rift is just forming now, why were we alerted via the Loop earlier?”
Moms quickly explained the golden glow coming out of Scout’s toothbrush, the power outages, and the golden glow in the water.
“So something was still in that toothbrush even after we got the Firefly,” Mac said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Duh,” Roland said, and everyone on the team turned to look at him. Apparently pain had sharpened his wits a bit. Doc had wrapped his ribs tightly, about all that could be done for the three broken ones. He warned Roland not to laugh too much, which didn’t appear like it was going to be a major problem.
Doc spoke up. “The question is, if this glow wasn’t a Firefly, what was it? So far it’s apparently caused no harm other than shorting out the power for short periods of time.”
“It hurt my mouth,” Scout said.
“If it came through in North Carolina,” Doc said, “it’s been dormant a long time. Waiting.”
“That’s not good,” Roland said.
“How do we track this thing down?” Mac asked.
“It’s in the water,” Scout said. “And the water flows that way.” She pointed to the left.
“Out of the mouth of babes,” Mac muttered.
“Hey!” Scout was offended. “I’m not no baby.”
Moms interceded. “But if it doesn’t come to land like you say it did at the power line or affect something like the boat, we need a way to locate it. Whatever it is.”
“It’s power,” Ivar said, a split second before Doc said something, apparently the same thing, because he gave Ivar the fish eye. Ivar continued. “So we try to figure out what kind of power, most likely electrical, and we rig a device to track it.”
“Get to work on it,” Moms ordered Ivar. “You stay here while we take care of this Rift.”
Doc looked like he was going to protest and then just shook his head.
They could hear the Snake coming in, landing in the paved circle out front in the cul-de-sac.
“My neighbors aren’t going to be happy,” Scout said.
“I think we crossed the threshold on that when Roland landed in the power lines,” Eagle said. “His chute is still up there. Support will get it eventually.”
“Let’s move out,” Moms ordered.
As they moved out of the house, Nada sidled up next to Moms. “What’s with Ivar? Leaving him behind.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Moms said. “Someone shut down the Can. Doc and Ivar were just down there before the alert. I put my money on Ivar being the problem.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Doc, then,” Nada said.
The golden glow was now about three feet in diameter.
Burns checked his watch. He stood up. He could hear the muted sound of jet engines echoing across the river. Sound carried really well here, reflecting off the water, and with little to obstruct it. He recognized the sound of the Snake, which was interesting since he’d seen it crash back near St. Louis.
Ms. Jones was nothing if not persistent.
That could be an asset in most situations. But not all.
Scout followed the team up the ramp into the cargo bay, unnoticed among the loading of gear and mission prep. Everyone was checking off their part of the mission Protocol on their team handbooks, slightly out of sync since they were used to loading the Snake in the Barn back at the Ranch.
But not completely. “Oh, no, no, no,” Moms said, taking Scout’s elbow and leading her back down the ramp. Dust and dirt and mowed grass were swirling about, kicked up by the Snake’s engines. The sound was a high-pitched whine and a dog was howling somewhere down the street. Lights were on in several houses and Ms. Jones would have to get Support to work hard to keep video of this off the Internet while spreading a good cover story. A bunch of supposed FEMA personnel were on their way with some cover story.
“You’re going to leave me alone with that Ivar guy?” Scout asked. “He’s a little bit freaky. Big Bang Sheldon, sort of, but not so funny.”
“This is a combat mission,” Moms said.
“Let’s go!” Nada shouted from the cargo bay.
“Please?” Scout begged. “I’ll stay on the plane.”
“The last plane crashed,” Moms said.
“Then I’ll stick with Nada.”
Who was suddenly standing next to the two of them. “Sorry, Scout.”
“I’ve—” Scout began, but Moms held a hand up, silencing her.
Moms’s and Nada’s headset crackled with Ms. Jones’s voice. “I believe the young lady has earned a place on the team. What is being played out here came through her. Regardless of how we feel about it, she has a role in this.”
“This is going to be dangerous,” Nada said, knowing his words had no power.
“The stakes are high,” Ms. Jones said.
“Roger,” Nada said. He pointed toward the cargo bay. “Come on. Rules were made to be broken.”
They ran back on board the Snake and it lifted up into the night sky.
Burns knew exactly how they’d come in to try to seal this Rift.
Protocol. The hobgoblin of little minds. Burns began to giggle as the phrase passed through his own mind.
He looked up at the golden sphere, flickering i
n the air. It was five feet in diameter now. His face was bathed in the glow. He could almost see through. To the other side.
That was the whole point. The other side.
Burns giggled once more.
Then he clapped his hand over his mouth. This was no laughing matter, but he couldn’t stop giggling.
Nada grabbed Moms’s elbow and leaned close so he could talk to her off the team net. “We do it different.”
“Do what different?” Moms was staring at the screen of her iPad, scanning the Google Earth map of the area around them.
“The way we hit the Rift and the Fireflies,” Nada said. “If Burns is opening this thing, he knows our Protocols. He’ll be waiting. Plus, we’re going to be late. Odds are the Fireflies, however many there are, will already be through.”
“What do you want to change?”
“No HALO or HAHO parachute jump onto the target. He’ll be waiting for that. We come in fast and hard. Everyone fast ropes right onto the target.”
“And if it’s a trap?” Moms asked.
“Of course it’s an ambush,” Nada said. “And you know the only way to break an ambush is—”
Moms finished for him: “Assault directly into the ambush with everything you’ve got.” She nodded. “All right. Brief the team.”
She switched frequencies, going on the TACNET back to the FOB, getting their Heavy ready.
The lights flickered and then came back on. The two screen watchers ran back through the tunnel to their stations. Computers were rebooting, agonizingly slow.
Then the clicking alarm came back on, along with the strobe light.
“Yeah, yeah,” the woman muttered. “We know.” She slapped a palm down on the button that cut off the alarm as she adjusted controls with her other hand, zeroing in on the Rift that was forming.
“Got it!” she cried out as she forwarded the data.
Eagle had the Snake high, at five thousand feet, circling over Knoxville. They knew Burns was close—how close was the question.