by T. C. Edge
She tore her eyes from them, and looked the other way. Running hard, she continued to the end of the street, her energy waning. She stumbled out into a wider road to find Ragan waiting, the others a little way off, and still moving. He took her into his arms in a tight, desperate embrace.
“I thought you were…” he started, eyes shadowed by fear.
“It’s OK,” she whispered, softly, weakly. “I’m fine.”
“Quinn?”
“Down. Maybe dead, I don’t know.”
A sudden noise beckoned from the north, and the east. More men were still coming, the NDSA soldiers still following. They grabbed at each other at the same time, and moved right off after Tanner and Nadia. Ragan reached Tanner’s side, speeding them along. Chloe’s legs burned, head starting to swim. Each step was becoming a struggle, each breath hauled into her lungs a pain.
And the falcon was still a way off.
25
Ragan felt a fear he’d never experienced before.
Seeing that lightning come down, the most violent he’d ever witnessed, right where Chloe stood…in that moment, he thought she’d been killed. It was the single most terrifying moment of his life.
The sense of relief at seeing her rush back out up the street was equally profound. The lightning had blinded him; he hadn’t seen her escape into the building just in time. But seeing her emerge, and hurry on towards him, filled his heart with a renewed radiance. He’d never felt such a contrast in emotions in such a short scale of time.
Now they were running again, hurrying southwards, inching ever closer to the falcon. It remained some way off, and Tanner was flagging, his step growing increasingly fragile as he continued to lose blood. His nanites would be working hard to cover the losses, but there was only so much they could do. And with their pursuers still bearing down on them, they had no time to stop and apply a temporary field dressing to his face to stem the flow.
That face…
Ragan grimaced, hardly able to look at it. He glanced over at Nadia on Tanner’s other flank, her lips drawn into a line, eyes strained and red, skin pallid and lacking its usual colour. She continued to whisper to Tanner, trying to keep him calm, trying to keep him going. It was a heartbreaking sight to witness them both.
Chloe looked weakened too by emitting that lightning strike. A spectacular thing to witness, even from as far away up the street as Ragan was. He’d watched from afar, seeing her hands light up and discharge a storm of lightning, the glow of white and blue so bright as to make her little form nothing but a black silhouette against it. It had worked to hold Quinn back, though may all have been in vain. As they moved onwards, it became clear that some soldiers were still in pursuit, still on their trail.
Panthers, most likely, Ragan feared. And if that were the case, they’d catch up fast…
He looked at Chloe, face whiter than normal, her usually bright blue eyes dulled. She’d taken a huge risk to hold back the tide of coming men, putting herself on the line to help her friends get away. Now she was spent, weakened. Her pace was slowing, a grimace appearing on her face as she tried to keep up, chest sinking and eyes blinking hard to stay focused.
Ragan took them all in - Tanner, Chloe, both weakened; Nadia devastated. They were too far from the falcon still, much too far. If they were caught, and had to fight off a unit of Panthers…they’d all get killed or captured. Tanner and Chloe were in no real state to repel anyone. They had become the walking wounded, pursued by an enemy that Ragan knew so well. An enemy he so recently called his friends, his brothers.
But why were there Panthers after them, or any NDSA soldiers? Commander Wexley had told Ragan he wouldn’t interfere in the hunt for Mikel. Had things gone beyond that now? Were they just trying to capture Ragan and the others, bring them in?
That couldn’t happen, Ragan knew. If they captured Chloe, Nadia, or Tanner, none of them would be safe. Chloe was an enemy of the state; Nadia and Tanner were known special forces operatives working for rival nations. Only Ragan himself - if he could somehow convince Wexley of his loyalty - might have a chance.
He hadn’t caught Mikel. He’d failed. Though their immediate survival had become of chief concern, there was still something much bigger at stake here. He needed to convince Commander Wexley to help. Mikel or no Mikel, he had to try. He had to…
He looked again at his friends, and his decision was made. This was the only way to help them escape, the only way of finding the secret facility in the MSA, destroying it before it was too late. He had to go back. He had no choice in that now. For Chloe, and Tanner, and Nadia. For the sake of the future. He had to go back.
He turned to Chloe, her eyes shaded, weary. He smiled at her, even as they ran, at that beautiful face, the warrior spirit that lay within.
“Where are the nearest chasers?” he asked her softly. “What does Remus see?”
Chloe blinked, as if needing a moment to think. A focused expression overtook her face, though she didn’t shut her eyes to look through the drone’s perception. She didn’t need to, really. He was quite adept at updating her without her looking for herself.
“There’s a group near,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re getting close. Right behind us.”
“How many?”
“About a dozen. Remus says…they’re closing fast. They’ll catch us soon.”
She seemed almost resigned to that fate. Her defiant spirit had been drawn back by her sudden fatigue, the expelling of all that energy. She shook her head again, running onwards, panting.
“It’s a Panther unit,” Ragan whispered. “And they will catch us soon.”
He didn’t say it in the way she did. She noted the look in his eye, and slowed her step at seeing it. She was intuitive enough to know…
Ragan liked that about her. He loved that about her.
She looked at him, expression growing grave.
“No,” she said. “You’re not thinking…”
“I have to, Chloe,” Ragan whispered. “If I don’t, they’ll catch us. None of you will be safe.”
“And you! You won’t be safe either.”
A new swell of emotion filled her, breathing in new life. Eyes flared, hands reached out and grabbed him, stopping him in the street. She held his arms as if unwilling to let him go. He smiled softly, as Nadia and Tanner continued on into the pouring rain.
Ragan glanced back down the street. He could sense the Panthers getting closer.
“Look at them, Chloe,” Ragan said. He turned to the others, stumbling into the mist, and Chloe followed his eyes. “They need you.”
“We need you,” Chloe returned quickly. “You can’t go. I’ll never see you again.”
Ragan dragged her into a hug, holding her tight.
“Of course you will,” he said, voice tender. “I have to try to make this right. I’m the only one who can.”
She pulled back, eyes visible through her visor. Ragan reached up and lifted it, revealing in greater detail her stark expression. He did the same with his own, two sets of blue eyes, locking together.
He reached into his pocket, placing a tiny orb into Chloe’s hand.
“Take this,” he said, handing over Dax’s earpiece. “Get Tanner back to the falcon, stitch him up. I’ll be fine, Chloe, I promise you. You can’t be caught. I can. Now go. They’re waiting.”
He looked up, Chloe doing the same. Nadia and Tanner were waiting away in the mist, refusing to leave their friends. They were alone, unprotected. Ragan saw Chloe’s eyes change. She knew she had to go.
She turned back to Ragan, nodding slowly.
“Don’t die,” she whispered, blinking away a burgeoning tear, repeating what he’d said to her bare minutes ago.
He smiled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, following the script. “I’ll sort things, and come back to you. I’m not leaving you, Chloe,” he said firmly.
“You better not,” she said with a smirk that defied the situation. “I kinda like having you around.”
He grinned, eyes dancing.
“Me too.” He looked up. “Now go.”
She hesitated, looking at him a final time, as if finding it impossible to draw herself away. Then Nadia’s voice came towards them on the wind, calling for them to hurry. Her words seemed to lasso Chloe, forcing her into action. She stepped - then ran - away from Ragan. And he watched them disappear into the fog.
He turned, knowing it was the right thing to do, and held his form in the middle of the street. He could see the black figures beginning to materialise in the distance now, the unique garb of the Panthers, his once-brothers, spreading up the street towards him. They worked as a unit, the dozen of them moving quickly but carefully, armed with high tech weapons and armour. A fight with them would be folly. That was not his intention.
He moved forward now, slowly, dropping his rifle to the floor. He lifted up his hands, raising them high into the air. The men continued onwards, forms growing clearer. Ragan glanced back again to see that the others had disappeared.
He sucked in a breath, calming himself, preparing himself. The Panthers slowed as they ventured on, cautious now, wary of this strange behaviour. Ragan gently reached to his helmet, pulling it away, discarding it to the sodden earth. His dark hair grew slick immediately, the deluge pouring onto his face, cold and stirring.
The Panthers stopped, taking positions along the street, rifles trained on Ragan. He raised his hands skyward again, hoping they’d recognise him.
“My name is Agent Ragan Hunt,” he called out, voice working through the downpour. “I need immediate transfer to the CID in New York. I must speak with Commander Wexley.”
The men hesitated, glancing at each other. Ragan couldn’t be sure how much they knew of everything that had been going on. They’d know Ragan by name, perhaps, and some may even have served with him once before, but it wasn’t likely that they were fully aware of his recent behaviour.
“I have been hunting the nano-vamp known as Mikel,” Ragan went on, hands still raised. “My job was to capture him and return him to the CID for questioning. He managed to evade me and get away. I must brief Commander Wexley immediately.”
The men closed in to his sides in flanking positions, with three coming forward towards Ragan from the front. Ragan held firm, arms still aloft. One of the approaching men - the one in the centre of the three ahead - reached up, pulling off his black helmet. Ragan didn’t recognise him.
“Agent Hunt,” the man said, stepping forwards. The men remained tense. “We know who you are. Now I’ll ask you to lower your hands, and place them behind your back.”
Ragan frowned.
“I’m no criminal, Captain,” he said, noting the man’s rank by the markings on his helmet.
“It is precaution,,” said the man, emotionlessly. “You understand our protocol.”
Ragan nodded, dropping his hands. He considered furthering the discussion to give his friends more time to escape, but didn’t push his luck, and didn’t have much of a choice. He’d made his decision now, and had no option but to follow it through.
One of the men to the captain’s flank moved behind Ragan, locking his wrists tight into cuffs. The men visibly relaxed once he’d been restrained. They were acting like he really was a criminal. Which he was, technically, but were they to know that?
The captain stepped forwards, closing the gap between them. He got up close, studying Ragan carefully, dark eyes narrow and intense. He drew a slight sneer, and shook his head.
“Commander Wexley will be disappointed,” he said, “that you let Mikel escape again.”
Ragan tensed.
“He’s a formidable adversary, Captain,” he growled. “Now let’s not loiter here in the rain. I need to see…”
“Yes, I know full well,” cut in the man, hair thin and short, chin sliced with a deep scar that his nanites had failed to fully fix. “The orders are to take you right to him. And to put you under to be sure of compliance.”
“Put me under?” balked Ragan. “I don’t think that’s necessary…”
“You don’t decide what’s necessary, Agent Hunt,” grunted the captain. He looked to one of his men, and nodded. Immediately, Ragan heard hurried footsteps and felt a stab in his neck. He grimaced, but the discomfort lasted a moment only. Within a second, his vision was quickly blurring, his limbs turning limp.
Men came forward to take the weight of his falling body, ready to haul him away.
And the last thing he saw, as the darkness closed in, was the face of the captain…regarding him with disdain.
26
Chloe didn’t look back as she rushed on, drawing upon the final shreds of her energy. Her visor remained open, drops of rain getting through and splashing onto her face. They met eyes and cheeks that were already wet with tears.
Stuck fast to Tanner’s left, with Nadia to his right, the trio continued on as one, Remus now guiding them down the shortest route. They wended left and right, seeking the solitude of quieter lanes, Remus navigating them past and around any blocked paths ahead. Chloe’s mind swam with a thousand thoughts and concerns, her legs pounding the sodden pavement, body operating on autopilot.
It said a lot that Nadia hadn’t even asked what Ragan was doing, why he was staying behind. She already knew that it had to be done, lest they all be caught and captured by the NDSA. Her eyes turned regularly to Tanner as they went, crafted in grief and horror. Even through her visor, the red around them was clear to Chloe, speaking of the tears that flowed.
Chloe looked at Tanner too, his head low, blood now clotting as his nanites worked hard to perform some early repair of his wounds. The longer they took to stitch him up and lay the foundations on which his nanites could build, the worse the scarring would be. That, however, was inevitable now. The deepest lacerations and cuts looked to have reached the bone, and that eye, that right eye, wasn’t going to be saved.
Tanner would be left half blinded, Chloe knew. Blinded and terribly scarred. It was strange, in a way, to feel such grief at the thought, given how many people were dying out there. This was only superficial, after all, and he’d still be able to see. But somehow, it seemed just as bad, a horrible fate for a man who took such pride in his looks.
Chloe felt a renewed fury and hate at the thought, the memory, the sight of Mikel scratching so ferociously at his flesh. This was precisely what the vamp had wanted for Cliff; to mutilate him, leave him deformed. He could have killed him if he wanted. He had the element of surprise, had him unconscious beneath him. He could just as well have sliced through his jugular, severing his carotid, let him bleed out there in the rain. He could have spared him this fate, and let him die. But no, he wanted him to live like this. It was vile cruelty, nothing more.
And yet, he’d gotten away. The creature had escaped again.
A grimace curled onto her lips as she ran, her breathing pressing out of her nose in sharp, rage-filled snorts. All of this was for nothing. Tanner was badly hurt, Ragan was gone, and Mikel hadn’t even been caught. Now what were they to do?
Get back to the falcon, a voice inside Chloe said, calming, yet authoritative. Get back there, do what you can for Tanner, and get the hell out of here.
She nodded to herself, her resolve reforming, and hurried on, turning her focus to immediate concerns. She commanded Remus to move higher, perform a wider check of the area behind them. He did so, confirming some rare good news - they were no longer being pursued. It looked like they’d gotten away. It looked like Ragan’s plan had worked.
Chloe didn’t relax, though. She couldn’t. Another concern bubbled, that of Mikel. Could he still be out there, lurking? Might he know where they’d left the falcon, and be waiting to greet them there when they returned?
She wouldn’t put anything past him, and though part of her ached for a reunion with him, now wasn’t the time for any of them to enact their revenge. They needed to recharge and recover. In their current state, with Tanner badly injured, Chloe exhausted, and Nadia so flustere
d, he’d see both the girls to the grave, and leave Tanner how he was.
They just had to hope that Mikel had fled from the NDSA soldiers. It seemed the likely move for a coward like him.
With Remus on high alert, they splashed their way on south, the storm still grumbling loudly. More lightning flashed and thunder bellowed, the heart of the storm passing overhead. Building by building, street by street, they ventured through the southern suburbs, passing the old picket-fenced family homes long since abandoned, the ghosts of a once vibrant conurbation.
Eventually, the underpass came into view right towards the outskirts of the city, the falcon hidden underneath. They hurried under and out of the pouring rain, opened up the jet, and helped haul Tanner inside, all dripping wet and shivering from the relentless pursuit, if not the cold. They moved him right for the briefing table, laying him down, Nadia scurrying around for medical supplies. She drew a syringe from a medikit, sinking it into Tanner’s neck, putting a temporary end to his incoherent mumblings as she applied the potent sedative and anaesthetic.
His left eye, curled in anguish, began to flicker and close. Nadia laid a hand onto his arm, whispering softly.
“Sleep now, darling. It’ll all be all right. I promise.”
She lifted his hand and kissed it gently, blinking away a growing tear. Then she grunted, firming up, and looked to Chloe.
“Stay with him a second,” she said. “I need to get us out of here.”
Chloe watched her as she rushed off towards the cockpit - she wasn’t aware that Nadia could fly - before turning her eyes to Tanner again, Remus landing on her shoulder in bird form, watching on, forlorn. The calm of the falcon’s interior, without the noise and gloomy shroud of the pouring rain, put his injuries into stark focus. There were dozens of gashes, some shallow, some deep, each of varying length and direction. Many criss-crossed one another, creating ‘x’ marks and junctions where the flesh opened up, blooming like red flowers. He was impossible to recognise without knowing it was him. Only his left eye remained untouched, his nose badly cut and askew, his lips split.