by Wesley Chu
“I think she’s cheating,” he said, perplexed.
Did Jill invent an invisibility cloak in her spare time?
He sped down the length of the wall, balancing on its narrow ledge. He still didn’t see her. He backtracked. “Where the hell did she go?”
Watch the language. I promised your dad. Here’s a clue. Look at the ground.
Cameron noticed it a second later. There was a footprint in the mud. He jumped down and checked the bushes. A pebble bounced off his shoulder. He spun around and saw Mom coming out of the opposite bush on the trail, a ghillie cover wrapped around her shoulder. She held up two fingers.
“You did cheat!”
She shrugged, a smile from ear to ear. “I’m triple your age. I’m allowed to cheat.”
She has a point. There is no such thing in reality as fair play.
They continued the game for another hour. Jill was able to rack up a four-to-one advantage before she began to tire. Cameron was eventually able to catch up before they finally took a break. Next, she worked on his balance, both on his feet and while standing on his hands. She had him jump from rock to rock, always landing on only one foot. Then, she had him do handstands while on the stone wall, knocking one of his hands off, forcing him to quickly shift his weight.
By the time they were done, he was exhausted. Cameron looked at his mom as they walked back toward the farmhouse. Even at her age, she was able to keep pace with him. How could he ever fight the Genjix? He felt that he should have put up a better fight. His frustration boiled up. He didn’t feel that he had improved much over the past six months.
She is in her forties. Hardly an advanced age.
“Well, relative to me. I should be in my prime.”
You are fifteen. Easily ten to fifteen more years before your prime.
He wasn’t convinced, though. He would have to just practice harder.
Maybe your father is right. I put so many expectations on you. I am pushing you too hard.
“Obviously not hard enough. I suck.”
You are starting to sound like your father more and more every day. Have a pity-party on your own time.
“Has Roen called in?” he asked.
She shook her head, looking a little distracted. “Not yet. Your father should have reached Ontario by now. I’m surprised he hasn’t pinged me yet. I’m sure he’s just running a little late.” She emphasized the “your father” part of her sentence. He took the hint.
“Mom, why does Dad push me so hard but doesn’t want me to join the Prophus?”
She sighed. “Your father has a very complicated relationship with all this.” She gestured all around them and then tapped his forehead. “Especially that alien in you.”
“He doesn’t like Tao?”
“Oh, he loves Tao. He had always just hoped for something more for you than becoming an agent.”
“Well, it’s not his decision.”
She nodded. “That’s true. It’s yours. Or is it Tao’s? In either case, his way of coping with your becoming an agent is to either make you the best agent possible, or dissuade you from becoming one altogether. Why do you think he bought you that cello?”
“I’m tone deaf.”
“Yes, dear, we are all painfully, painfully aware of that.”
They reached the house and Cameron rushed upstairs to wash off the grime. If he could get ready in the next twenty minutes, he could take the bus for once. He had tried to skip the shower, but Jill would have none of that. He guessed it was for the better. Most of the other kids thought he was weird already. Stinking up the class wasn’t going to earn him any more points. He rushed through the shower, and then rushed out, throwing on whatever clothes he had readily at hand. He came down with five minutes to spare and saw Mom staring out the window, coffee in hand.
“Okay, I’ll see you tonight.” He hesitated. “Mom? Everything all right?”
She tore her gaze away from the window. “Have a good day, Cam.”
Something has happened to Roen. Press her on it.
“What is it?” Cameron asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“I’m old enough now.”
Jill hesitated, and then exhaled before finally speaking. “A forest ranger found a bullet-riddled Oldsmobile on fire off the side of the road.”
Check for bodies.
Cameron’s heart skipped a beat. “Did they find anyone inside?”
She shook her head. “No. They also noted that someone had built a fire ring around the car.”
The site has been cleaned. The Genjix.
“We have to find him and Uncle Marco.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have anyone to spare at the moment. I just… I just have to trust that your father is all right.”
Cameron felt his heart slam against his ribcage, as if it was trying to break through his chest. His legs buckled, but Jill caught him before he could sit down on the floor. She looked at him with a renewed intensity. “Your father is fine, and you are going to school. Do you understand?”
“But Dad…”
“I will not operate under the assumption that my husband is dead until I have proof. For now, we have jobs to do. Yours is to go to school.”
“No way!”
“Tao, talk some sense into him.”
She is right. Anything could have happened. No need to jump to conclusions. A good agent continues his mission no matter what the cost.
“Get your butt to school, young man,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to the door. She looked up at the clock. “You’ve missed the bus. Bike to school and then bike straight home. I don’t want to get a call from Ms Federlin that you were late. Do you understand?” Then she pushed him so hard toward the door he stumbled.
Stone-faced and numb, Cameron turned around and looked at his mother. “Will you… at least let me know if you hear anything? I need to know.”
She shook her head. “Your mission today, as a Prophus agent, is to go to school. I will update you when you’ve completed your assignment and are safely home. Not before.”
Cameron curled his hands into fists. He felt his eyes well with moisture and his vision swim. “That’s so messed up. He’s my father!”
Jill kicked him out of the house before he could protest any further.
She is right. Otherwise, you will waste the entire day waiting for that message. Nothing you do right now will make a difference. Go to class. It is too early to panic. Now! Start moving your feet, Cameron Tan.
The rest of the day was a haze. He received a B+ on his History test, his first this year, but he didn’t care. He walked through the hallways like a zombie, numb and oblivious to what was happening around him. He didn’t notice the usual glances or the snarky laughs. When a group of the football jocks called him names, it didn’t register. All Cameron could think about was whether his father was alive or dead.
Cameron was sure this wasn’t the first time his father had been in danger. After all, the two of them had taken down the remnants of an IXTF squad just the other day. However, this was the first time that he could remember being unsure of Roen’s wellbeing. In all the previous missions, it had never even occurred to him that his father could have been injured or killed. Maybe it was because he was too young to realize it, maybe he thought his father was invincible, or maybe now that it had actually happened, all of a sudden it felt far too real. The waves of worry and fear were overwhelming.
Cameron, get ahold of yourself. Jumping to conclusions is the fastest way to drive yourself insane. What do I always tell you about intel?
“Three times a lady.”
Once you know she exists. Twice she has your attention. Three times a lady. Wait for confirmation of facts or lack of facts, and determine actionable items before you start to panic.
“I can’t help it, Tao. I can’t stop feeling this way. He’s my dad.”
If it helps, I am concerned as well. Roen is more than a friend to me.
�
�I don’t know how to deal with this.”
Focus on what you can control, and trust that your Roen is all right. In fact, I am sure he is.
“Really?”
Of course. I trained him.
Cameron was in gym class, standing far back in the outfield. No one ever hit the ball this far. It afforded him the privacy he needed to process all the conflicting emotions and try to tame his out-of-control imagination visualizing his father dying in a ditch or a prisoner of the Genjix. A hundred scenarios ran through his head, each one worse than the previous.
“Hey, Tan, heads up. Stop screwing around!” a voice yelled.
He looked up just in time to see a pop ball fly toward him. It made a lazy arc toward the center of the field. If he had been paying attention, he could have run and caught it. Heck, if he tried now, he might still be able to. However, this stupid gym class game was the last thing he could give a crap about. He stood there while the ball bounced off the grass and rolled toward the wall.
“You suck, Tan!” someone catcalled.
“Get your head out of your ass!” someone else joined in.
“Fucking loser!”
“Watch your mouth,” Coach Wannsik yelled. He looked over at Cameron. “Get the ball, Cameron. You’re not here to daydream.”
Cameron saw the white baseball poking out of the grass. What was he doing here anyway? This was all so stupid. His dad was missing! He had the urge to just walk away or kick the damn thing or throw it out of the field.
You are better than this. Get a hold of yourself. Find the calm.
Cameron closed his eyes and breathed. In. Out. Like how Tao had taught him, he tried to keep his wild emotions present, embraced them even, but still tried to find that calmness. Controlled. Manageable. This time, it didn’t work. He snarled and stomped to the ball. He picked it up and hurled it as hard as he could back at the group of students. The ball traveled long and fast, easily reaching the home base and bouncing off the back fence. Well, no one said his aim had to be good.
Nice throw.
“I surprise myself.”
Throwing a ball is nothing more than good t’ai chi.
“I could kind of see that.”
The rest of his day flashed by. All he could think of was getting home for some news about Roen. It wasn’t fair that Mom wouldn’t let him know. What if she had heard something by now? She was wrong. He deserved to know right when she found out. Well, nothing he could do about it now. He had to get home.
After the last bell rang, Cameron hurried to his locker and ran through the gym toward his bike. He bet he could cover the forty-minute ride in fifteen if he pushed himself. He nearly bowled over Coach Wannsik on his way out.
“Hang on,” Wannsik said, blocking his way. “Watch where you’re going, son. You’re going to hurt someone. Hey, Cameron, that’s quite an arm you have there.”
Cameron’s first two impulses were either to shout at Wannsik to get out of his way or to just bowl him over.
If I was cruel, I would teach you a hard lesson right now about spiting yourself with stupidity. However, knowing this situation, my advice would be to speak softly. Anything else will simply delay your trip home.
“Thanks, Coach,” Cameron said breathily. He tried to find the calm. Embrace it. Squeeze the calm. Truth was, he wanted to tear that damn calm apart into little pieces and stomp on it. However, he bit his lip and flashed Wannsik a smile.
“Why don’t you try out for the baseball team? With an arm like that, with a little work on control, we can use that. You know, a lot of Division One schools offer great…”
Cameron stood there for five minutes as Wannsik continued on about the merits of college scholarships. That wait hurt him worse than the one time Roen broke his collarbone when he was twelve years old in a freak sparring accident. Finally, when the coach was done with his sell, Cameron politely declined and bolted for the sports field.
When he got to the bicycle racks, he unlocked and pulled his bike out of the rack, and jumped on. He had already begun pedaling when he realized that something was wrong. He looked down; his tire was flat. He looked behind him. Both of them were.
Cameron jumped off and checked the treads. Someone had slashed them. With a snarl, he threw the bike to the side. Several mocking barks came from the field and he saw a group of those jocks laughing. He began to stomp toward them.
No, Cameron.
“I’m sick of them. I’m going to teach them who they’re messing with. I’m going to break –”
No. You will not.
“They’ve been picking on me since I moved here. I’m going to make sure they never pick on me again!”
You are more powerful than they. Direct your power up, not down.
“It’s not fair!”
Things rarely are, son. You have more important things to deal with right now.
Cameron shot them one more glare and stomped back to his bike. He picked it up and threw the frame over his shoulder. If he ran the entire time, he could make it back in about two hours. Three, maybe, with this bike.
Behind him, he heard those jerks throw more insults his way, taunting him with chicken noises and baby crying sounds. God, with humans like these, it sometimes made him want to be a Genjix.
Stop! You will take that thought back, Cameron Tan.
“Like hell I will, Tao. Those fucking kids are the scum of the Earth.”
Do not judge an entire species based on the actions of their worst few. That is the trait of the Genjix. The Prophus choose to look at the best of humanity. That is our difference. If you cannot learn this, then you cannot be my host. And watch your language; I promised your father.
At that moment, no matter how hard Cameron tried, he couldn’t stop it. He began to cry. Tears streamed down his face as he lugged the bike over his shoulder and jogged home. He was so embarrassed; he probably looked ridiculous too.
It is all right, Cameron. There is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling, though you are right about one thing.
Cameron sniffled. “Right about what?”
You do look a little ridiculous.
Cameron caught himself chuckling in spite of how he felt. A little of the pressure bottled up in his chest was let out. “You’re supposed to make me feel better, not worse.”
I know. I sometimes suck at this job. Now, get home and see if we can find some good news about your father. How fast can you run?
14
Ontario Region
Timestamp: 2712
Before the ESA passed, the Prophus depended on commercial air transportation to move around the world. We were getting our butts kicked financially, politically, and literally, so Command had decided to scrap our meager fleet and fly everyone coach.
Luckily for us, that crappy law damaged the Genjix far more than it did us. Ironically, as much as we despise it, it probably saved the Earth from total destruction.
* * *
Roen and Marco must have looked like a dirty pair of homeless hitchhikers by the time they limped out of the mountains to the outskirts of Ontario, Oregon. It had taken them a lot longer to cover those ten kilometers than they had originally planned. Both of them suffered several minor and not-so-minor bumps and bruises from rolling down the hill in the car. Fortunately for them, the antique heavy steel-framed Oldsmobile was built like a tank, and they had come out of the accident a little better than the casual observer would have expected just by looking at the wreckage.
Burying Ines and Hurley was a no-brainer. Neither Roen nor Marco even considered leaving their comrades unburied. Still, it took three hours to dig the two plots with their entrenching tools, so they didn’t start on their journey to town until well past dawn. Roen had wanted to call Jill, but both of them had had to go dark. Between the NSA, IXTF, and now confirmed Genjix involvement in this area, any use of a cell phone or Internet was an invitation to have a SWAT team knocking at the door. The only way to safely contact her was to utilize the crypto key, and they couldn
’t do that until they set everything up and got on-line.
What compounded the difficulty of their journey was the fifty kilos of gear they carried on their backs. Marco had insisted they bring all the weapons and ammunition they had had with them, and Roen did the same with the medical supplies and the cash. In the end, they decided to just suck it up and bring everything. Add the thick forest, the rugged terrain, and Mother Nature deciding to toss in a shower to boot, the two made a pair of miserable-looking dogs by the time they reached the Mountain Border Roadside Inn.
Roen checked in at the front desk where a bored attendant handed him two sets of keys. He paid with cash and came out a few minutes later to see Marco staring disapprovingly at the entire establishment. The motel was just a run-down two-story building with doors opening out to a parking lot through balcony hallways. The awning was a combination of lime green and brown, and the building looked like it was designed sometime in the early seventies to serve as a drug or prostitution house that charged by the hour.
“Well, it was only thirty bucks a night,” Roen said when he noticed Marco’s scowl.
“Thank goodness Mum isn’t alive to see this.” Marco shook his head. He held out his hand. “Very well, give me my keys. Were you able to get us adjacent rooms at least?”
Roen made a face. This might get a little ugly. “Well, actually, we’re in the same room. It’s a queen-sized bed, though.” If his heart had been any weaker, the look Marco gave him might have struck him dead.
The Brit’s face turned red and his eyes went all sorts of stormy as he threw his four bags over his shoulder, walked five steps away from Roen down the side of the building, and kicked the ugly brown-and-green brick wall. He walked another few steps, and then repeated the action. Again, Roen wasn’t sure if he should be more insulted or amused by Marco’s reaction to being stuck with him. In this case, he decided to be amused, so he grinned as he trailed after the pouting Englishman.