She stopped breathing. With the transport destroyed, there was no reason to keep preventing communications unless they believed someone had survived. Suddenly the fire that had moments earlier been so logical to stay near now seemed hostile. After all, if it could guide rescue crews to her, it could also serve as a beacon for her attackers. She realized she needed to open up her distance from the crash site, maybe get out of range of the jammer or figure out another way to create a signal. Hell, her father’s forces would be scouring the area with infrared imagining technology, and theoretically, all she needed to be was exposed to the sky. So she had a plan, stay visible and move away from here. She took a much needed breath and calmed her nerves. She stood up and turned to walk away.
Only to come face to face with a black opaque visor similar to the one Toby was equipped with. Instead the grays and whites of her protector were replaced with black armor that seemed to writhe under the moon’s light. She tried to turn and run, but it was on her in a fraction of a second, a hand grabbing her mouth to stifle her scream. She used her good arm to bring her elbow back as hard as possible to strike her attacker in the stomach only to have it deflect off causing searing pain to shoot through her joint. A flash of pressure on her other arm alerted her to the injector being pressed against her skin. She tried to keep fighting but felt her limited strength slipping. For a brief second, she thought she smelled the musk from her earlier attacker, but it was just her mind playing tricks on her. This was a whole new fresh hell. Within moments, all that was left was darkness and dreams of the monster from the forest taking everything from her.
7
The park land below the Spire was beautiful today. The sun warm on her skin, the sweet smell of wild flowers growing along the sturdy path she ran on top of. The children were out playing, keeping up with her as she ran around the base of her family’s home. She was happy and free of burdens. She rounded a corner made of thick bushes and saw him. The children had vanished, the sun was fading. What light there was glinted off the whites of his eyes and patches of his yellowing teeth.
“I didn't get to send yo daddy that message that I wanted to."
“You’re dead,” she whispered, the desire to run gripping her heart and smothering her courage.
“How can I be dead when it was your robo friend that killed me and it's now scrap metal?" He pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt. “Now come here so I can finish what I started."
She turned and ran. Going around the corner again, instead of freedom she ran into a wall of fire, on the other side the black armored individual. The flames encircled her, burning her flesh. The person in black walked toward her, moving through the heat without harm. They reached for her and she dropped to her knees, head down and hands upon it. The fire disappeared, and she felt a gentle hand on her should.
“Jita, look at me."
She looked up and saw the smiling face of her father. She stood, throwing herself into an embrace with him. “Daddy everything has gone wrong."
He pulled back, placing his hands on either side of her face. “You're safe now. I’ll do anything to make that a certainty." She closed her eyes and wanted to stay here forever, and then she smelled the musk of her attacker. Her father pulled his hands away, covered in blood. She looked down, below them were the remains of countless people. Then she and her father were occupying the same space seeing from the same perspective, yet she was also detached, viewing from afar. Surrounding them were her attacker, the man in black, and the feral woman she had buried.
“Daddy, what's going on?” she pleaded hoping for an answer. They looked down and Mr. Miller was there kneeling at their feet. Her separate self stepped toward Miller and over the limbs of the mountain of dead, clawing her way over the cold, still forms of the deceased. Finally she reached them, the fusion of herself and her father.
“Why is this happening?”
Their hands snapped out and grabbed her, their eyes black and empty. They held her with iron hard grips. “You know why,” they whispered.
“No, I don't understand any of this.”
“Stop hiding!” the monster, man in black, and the feral woman all said at once.
“I’m not hiding. I just don't understand."
“Because you choose to be ignorant.”
“Of what?” she yelled trying to break their grasp.
“That all of this is because of you." Their voices all combined to shake the world and wake the dead at their feet. Their hands grabbed and clawed at her, pulling her down into them. She screamed as they ripped at her and crushed her under their mass.
___
She shot upright, her eyes flashing open and her skin covered in a sheen of perspiration. The room was dark and cold, illuminated only by a display beside her bed, on it were her vitals. Connected to a tall pole were several bags of fluid, with long clear tubes running into her arm. She moved to wipe the moisture from her forehead only to have her hand stop after a few centimeters. The harsh sensation of steel on the flesh of her wrist told her immediately that she was restrained to the bed.
She sat there letting her eyes adjust. She could have panicked, but after the turn of events her life had taken recently just being alive and breathing was reason for celebration and an opportunity to work the problem. Her free hand traced over the metal shackles holding her to the bed, searching for a potential weakness. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the low blue light given off by the display. She could make out simple shapes such as the dresser at the end of the room, the chair beside the bed, and a tall yet thin table with wheels.
A door opened and the lights jumped to life, flooding the room with their fluorescent glow and forcing her eyes closed.
“I see you're awake," a woman's voice said.
Slowly Maria opened her eyes as they yet again adjusted to the level of light available. She watched as the woman checked the fluid bags as well as the machine. “Who are you?”
The woman turned to look at her, her shoulder length blond hair swaying slightly as she did. “Nurse Collins."
“What are you doing?”
A frown creased Nurse Collins’ face and Maria got her first good look at her eyes. They were similar to her father and mother. They were the eyes of those who had lived far longer than their physical age indicated. “What all nurses do, checking vitals and making sure the equipment is in proper order."
“Why am I here?”
The woman stopped, looked at her and a flash of anger crossed over her face. She clearly wanted to say something however instead, smirked, and responded, “You were brought in by a squad of soldiers. You were pretty badly hurt, so they brought you here. They might have just saved your life.”
“I don't think that was on their mind when they were trying to kill me with two missiles."
The woman shrugged. “They must have changed their mind; otherwise, they could have just killed you and left your body for the ferals."
“Well, I'll make sure to shake their hand when I see them.” Maria made to raise her hand but stopped when she ran out of slack on the shackle. “Unfortunately, I can't."
“A precaution in case you try to escape."
Maria raised an eyebrow and inquired, “And where exactly and from whom would I be escaping?”
“Above my pay grade, you'll have to ask the CO." With that the nurse did one final quick check of her vitals, disconnected the IV lines and left the room. Maria sat there reviewing her situation. Whomever they were they were not from a Spire family.
The door opened and a tall, muscular man with black skin and short cut hair entered. He had the same look to his eyes that all the people with the longevity treatment had, old eyes in a body that was far too young for the experience it carried. The smile upon his face contrasted with the weight that his eyes held. His clothes caught her attention immediately. They shifted colors as he moved into the room helping him to blend in with whatever was behind him relative to her viewpoint. He walked right over to her bed and pulled up a
chair, his smile still present. He extended his hand, she didn't raise hers, and he looked down at the shackle and laughed to himself, “Well, that's unnecessary."
He placed his thumb on a black patch of the shackle's main body. With a hum and a click the locking mechanism released and she was able to move her hand freely again. He extended his hand again only this time she pulled herself away from him, her legs coming up to her chest. It wasn't so much because she was scared, though there was a degree of that. She wanted as much space between them to increase her reaction time in case of a possible attack.
The smile never left his face as he nodded and sat, groaning as he did. “Sorry, when you don’t age anymore, you sometimes forget that you still need to properly stretch before a work out."
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “My name is David, David Williams."
She continued to sit there, mute, and closely watching him trying to suss out his intent. He blew out his cheeks and said, “Tell you what, I'm going to keep reviewing a file,” he held up a paper thin tablet device, “and give you some time to adjust to your situation and me. You let me know when you're ready to talk."
He activated the tablet as he lifted up a leg and rested its foot on his opposite knee. He frowned a little as his socks were exposed when the ever-shifting pant material lifted. She watched, trying to gather enough information to determine what her current status was while beginning to be slightly amused at his innocent and befuddled nature. He tugged at the end of his pant leg, straightening it.
She let out a huff as she realized what was going on. “Neat trick."
He looked up from his pant legs, confusion plastered on his face. “Excuse me?”
“Unlocking my restraints, trying to shake my hand, and attempting to make yourself seem unthreatening by acting like a buffoon… You're just trying to disarm me so that an interrogation will be easier."
He smirked, “Actually, the buffoonery is courtesy of my parents. They had some unique personalities. As for the restraint, well, that was just me being nice."
She replied with silence and he shrugged his shoulders. “It's not a bad idea though. Next time I'm interrogating someone I'll be sure to use it, thank you Maria."
Her eyes went wide, disbelief coursing through her mind. “What did you say?”
“I said thank you."
She glared at him, not amused by his evasions. “My name, how do you know my name?” she demanded.
“I know quite a bit about you, Maria. After all, I’ve been studying your file since you arrived.” He held up the tablet, and she could clearly see a picture of her that was from her purple hair phase and most definitely not recent.
She sat there, stunned into silence while her mouth hung open. Her brain tried in vain to come up with a sufficient reply, all she managed was, “How?"
“You're a smart young woman Maria. Like me you gather intelligence for your family. You should know one of the cardinal rules of intelligence work, never reveal your sources. There is a better question though, one that I am free to answer."
“Why?” she managed in a low and slow voice.
“Because you are the daughter of Jacob Patterson and therefore are of incredible interest to people such as myself."
She hugged her legs tighter, not sure if his statement was intended to be ominous. “Look, I don't know who you are, but my dad isn't someone you want to screw with. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he came crashing in with a division of combat units right now."
“Your dad won't be coming."
“I wouldn't be so sure."
“Your contact lenses were removed shortly after you were encountered, and your body scanned for transmitters or receivers buried beneath your skin or deeper."
He smiled and said, “Your father won't be rescuing you because they have no way of knowing where you are or even if you are still alive, they will move on."
She shook her head vigorously, feeling the pain from her wounded shoulder. “Mom and Dad wouldn't give up looking for me."
He waved his hand and took on an apologetic tone, “I'm not trying to make you feel abandoned. Truth be told, your dad actually deployed two divisions of units and an entire air wing to your last known location on the Ocoee.” He smiled warmly. “Your parents are tearing that part of Tennessee apart looking for you."
She was about to make a snarky comment about him being bipolar when he continued, “What I meant by my comment is that your father is incredibly practical, and he's looking at a potential war with over half of the other Spire families and he has no allies. Whatever plan he concocted to deal with it likely included you. Now with you gone, he's going to have to hastily put together an improvised response or risk annihilation. So he's grieving for you, of that I have no doubt, but he's also already planning his next moves."
Her mouth dropped. This was obviously no small group of unorganized survivors. How could they possibly know all this? “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
He smirked, “I told you. My name is David Williams."
She leaned forward, no longer letting fear influence her. “Stop evading. Who do you work for? Which Spire are you affiliated with?"
His eyes rolled in an overly dramatic fashion. She was relatively certain that he was intentionally behaving in a way that was meant to encourage her to lose her temper, probably in an effort for her to also lose control over her judgment and potentially let free sensitive information. “So what, only Spire families are resourceful enough to be able to gather intelligence?"
“No, Spire families and their employees are all that's left period, except for slaves owned by the Asian families."
He nodded his head. “I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you."
He deliberately placed his tablet on the edge her bed, standing it up so that it was easily seen and the back was clearly visible. His finger tapped away on it making certain that her attention was drawn to it. She looked at it, examining its shape and features. Now that she thought about it, it did look odd. While it was as thin as her tablet at home, it was clearly nowhere near as flexible as the models that she and the other uppers were accustomed to using. Its surface was dinged and nicked, and she was certain that she saw what could have only been a coffee stain in the top right corner. This was a device that was in need of replacement. She looked at the monitors near her bed, only now realizing that they existed as physical displays and not holographic projections. The railing she had been shackled to was well worn in the areas where people had grabbed it repeatedly to move it from point to point. She looked back at the pad, her eyes sinking to the center bottom where she was barely able to make out the etched words: Property: USMC.
“It's not possible. You're all supposed to have died from the plague."
“Improvise, adapt, and overcome little lady."
“If the United States Marine Corps survived, then why have you been hiding?" her tone accusatory.
“The situation necessitated caution."
“Look, I know we started off on the wrong foot with you trying to kill me and all, but this is great news. You're the good guys.” Hope finally starting to percolate within her since Hawaii. “I'll talk to my father and convince him not to retaliate. It will be a hard sell, but I know I can do it. Then we can help each other. You don't know about the crap that’s about to fall on this continent!”
The smile faded from his face. “We weren't trying to kill you.”
She waved him off, annoyed. “You could have fooled me. My friend is dead because of you, but I couldn't give a rat’s ass about the blame game now. We have an opportunity to work together, and we all benefit. You can come out of hiding as well as ally with the most powerful Spire family on the earth, and we can get your knowledge of strategy and tactics. Just let me go, and I know I can get my father on board."
“We won't work with your father."
Her eyes went wide. She couldn't believe it. How big of a fool must this man be to not realize what an opportunity this w
as for both of them. “Why the hell not!” she demanded, exasperation taking hold.
“Because he was the one we were trying to kill."
Her heart skipped, the realization that this conversation was beginning to sound a lot like one from the recent past. “Why do you want to kill my dad?”
“Because he’s responsible for the deaths of nearly ten billion people. He’s the one that orchestrated the global chaos that overthrew our civilization, and he’s the one that created and released the virus that killed nine out of ten people.”
She smelled it again, that musk mixed with the stench of rotting teeth; his voice whispered in her ear and the hairs on the back of her neck rose, “You could say we worked for him."
She shook her head vigorously. “No, that isn't true. My dad is a great man. He tried to help you all. He tried to create a cure for the plague, but our Spire was attacked and we were all stuck in our safe rooms for weeks. When it was safe to come out, everyone was dead."
His head dipped. She wasn't sure entirely why. Maybe it was because he really believed what he was telling her and didn't like reliving the events of the collapse. Possibly he didn't enjoy being the one to tell her what he felt was the truth or just as likely he was attempting to manipulate her into believing he was sympathetic to what she must be going through with these allegations being hurled about. “Then where is everyone?"
“What do you mean? They became infected and died, seems pretty obvious."
The Spire Page 21