by C. R. Asay
“Stop right there!”
There was another door that exited into the side parking lot near the mess hall. I skidded, catching the corner of the door with my hand to keep my balance. The green exit sign glowed above the door.
Something struck me from behind, slamming me into the opposite wall. The side of my head smacked into corkboard. Papers and thumbtacks rained down. A heavy body held me in place, his forearm jammed against my throat.
“Who are you?” This was a different voice than Justet’s. An angrier, heavier voice to match the thick arm. “What are you doing here?”
“Get off me!” I slammed my elbow into his ribs, and brought my knee up into his groin.
Jackpot. The arm jerked away. I shoved him and the man fell against the opposite wall, groaning and cursing between breaths. A couple more steps took me to the door. A boot smashed into my lower back, throwing me against the glass pane of the door.
I caught the push-bar, throwing the door open against the brick exterior with a violent clatter. My thigh hit the edge of a step. Hip, elbow, and shoulder struck concrete before I came to rest on my face, unable to breathe.
CHAPTER 4
I gasped like a landed fish. A desperate roll put me on my back. I coughed, gasped, and coughed again before managing to catch my breath.
The abrasions on my hip, arms, and hands stung with astonishing pain. My head pounded.
Shadowy figures eased into my line of sight. I couldn’t seem to formulate a thought or a plan. I knew lying on the ground wasn’t a good idea. If I could only move. A boot pressed onto my collarbone, holding me in place. I grabbed the man’s ankle and tried to wrestle his foot off my shoulder.
“Specialist Rose,” said Justet with a grin. A hushed rattle of laughter echoed from the surrounding figures. “Are you following me?”
A shiver stole across my nerves like there was voltage racing through them. My muscles tensed.
“N-no. Of course n-not.” I shuddered out a breath. “Sir.”
I blinked and found myself staring down the barrel of an Army issue, 9mm handgun. It looked as beefy as a 50 caliber machine gun under the circumstances. Justet’s finger hovered near the trigger.
“Then what were you doing in my office?” His voice was sharp and loud enough to carry to the men behind him.
“I wasn’t in your . . .” I let the lie die on my lips.
A brief lilt of music echoed from the distant NCO club. A chatter of voices and smattering laughter rolled after the sound. Lieutenant Justet glanced behind him. Nothing said foul play quite like threatening a US Army soldier, on a US Army base, with a US Army-issued weapon. He hid the pistol in his belt, straightened his fatigues over it, and brushed casually at his sleeves.
“Talk, Rose.”
“Let me up first, sir.” I raised myself onto one elbow, expecting at least that much respect.
Justet leaned over me, resting his forearm on his thigh. His weight forced my elbow to skid painfully out from under me.
“Just answer the question,” Justet said.
The voices from the direction of the NCO club increased in volume. Several of Justet’s men shifted uncomfortably. I was surprised that I recognized most of them. A couple stood too far in the shadows for me to identify.
There were a couple of privates, including Private Luginbeel; an overweight staff sergeant from another company and, unfortunately, Sergeant Sanderford. Sanderford was a former drill sergeant, and there couldn’t be a worse person glaring down at me. He stood in a partial hunch, and I realized who I’d kneed back in the hall.
“What the hell were you doing in the armory?” Sanderford tore the wad of papers from Justet’s garbage can out of my hands. I hadn’t realized I still had them. He smoothed them out, studied the words with a rapid flit of his eyes, and then tossed them on the ground. “Who sent you?”
Sanderford grabbed for my lapel. Justet put an arm across his chest and heaved him back.
I opened my mouth to reply that the commander sent me—yes, that’s right, the Hornet herself. For a moment I enjoyed the thought of her sharp face and razor tongue coming down on Justet. And Sanderford. And every last one of them.
Or she’d just pat them on the head and give them a gold star.
Lieutenant Justet ground my shoulder into the asphalt. I wheezed, grasping his boot with one hand.
“What makes you think I didn’t have permission to be in there?” I barely got the words out.
“Did you?”
Our eyes locked. I pressed my lips together, breathing shallowly through my nose. The energy surging through my body was incredible.
He ground his heel into the soft spot between my shoulder and chest. I groaned to keep from crying out and dug my fingers into the laces of his boot.
“Get off,” I gasped, my teeth clenched.
“Just tell me who sent you.”
“Get off. Get off!” The energized tension spread throughout my body, threatening to tear me apart if Justet didn’t comply. I slammed my fist into his calf. The raw wound on my knuckle split my hand with pain. Justet grunted and then laughed.
“Get off me!” I shouted.
A metallic taste filled my mouth. Voltage-charged fire raced through my hand. I struck him again. A fierce electrical surge rushed from the open skin in my knuckle, into Justet’s scrawny leg.
A flash of jagged blue light and a violent popping sound severed the air. The back of my hand smacked into the ground, driving agony through my knuckles.
I barely noticed Justet’s foot releasing me from the ground or the long string of cuss words he was yelling. I rolled onto my side and stumbled to my feet, cradling my damaged hand.
Justet groped for the gun tucked in his belt.
My mind rode a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. I couldn’t decide what to do. Should I run? Fight? Justet’s pistol whipped around. Fear ate into any residual composure I might’ve had. I ran for it.
A hand grabbed my braid before I’d taken two steps and yanked me back. Several chunks of hair parted ways with my scalp. I stumbled, barely managing to keep my feet. Cold, heavy metal pressed against my neck. I dropped to my knees and stared up at the stars. Justet’s face hovered over me, his fist tangled in my hair. Moisture glistened at the corners of his mouth.
“Let’s get her inside,” Sanderford said.
I kept my eyes on the man with the gun at my neck. I watched in silent fascination as a drip of blood leaked from Justet’s nose and spread across his fuzzy mustache. Justet’s hand jerked to his nose, the gun still tight in his grip. He brushed his nose with the back of his hand and then stared at the blood there.
“Sir,” Sanderford repeated.
Justet hauled me to my feet by my hair. Several other soldiers moved in, grabbing my arms and shoulders. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, and barely struggled as they wrestled me back into the armory. They dragged me down the darkened hallway, the sound of their boots and harsh breathing thunderous, before shoving me to the floor in one corner of the company training area. I scrambled to my feet and stood at a half crouch, my hands partially raised. Blood pounded in my ears.
“Luginbeel, Lewis.” The staff sergeant’s voice made Justet jump. “Let’s get that ammo to the truck, shall we?”
The privates melted away into the darkness of the CTA, followed by the staff sergeant and the two unknown figures. Justet and Sanderford were all that remained.
“What the hell happened out there?” Justet said, wiping his hand on his pants.
Well, there was the gun. Boy, did I remember the gun. There was the shock of electricity powering into Justet’s leg—no, I couldn’t think about that.
Voltage, volted, volting, whispered a voice.
I looked up and around. The voice sounded familiar. But the only people nearby were Justet and Sanderford, black ghosts against the whitewashed walls. I inhaled and stood up straight. My dog tags clinked together. I reached for them, discovering that my jacket had torn sometime during t
he melee. My tags hung outside my shirt. I rubbed the pendant I kept on my tags that my dad had given me hours before he’d disappeared. Numbness bled through my extremities.
Voltage, volted, volting.
Justet fumbled in his pocket and a second later a bright light flared inches from my face.
“Rose?”
Voltage, volted, volting. Voltage, volted, volting.
Blue lights popped in my vision, courtesy of my blistering head.
“Rose!”
The mantra silenced, and I dragged my jacket protectively across my shirt.
“Sir,” I finally acknowledged Justet.
“At ease, Specialist,” Justet said calmly, as though he and his freak squad hadn’t just assaulted the crap out of me.
I mentally searched for an escape route or weapon of some kind. The door to the female latrine was several paces to the right, complete with a deadbolt and, if luck was with me, a toilet plunger I’d used a couple of days ago. I did the deer-in-the-headlights thing a moment more and then forced myself to move a single step to the right.
“What do you want from me?” I let the aggression smolder.
“Sanderford, could you give us a minute?” Justet lowered the light out of my eyes.
“I’ll check on the ammo and be right back. Take care of this.” Sanderford jabbed a finger at me.
He marched out into the hall. Justet waited until Sanderford had rounded the corner before speaking.
“Okay, Kris. I know you think I’m the bad guy right now, but I want you to listen for a sec.”
Kris again. My stomach did its traditional jolt.
His watchful eyes crawled up and down my body. A colony of creepers shivered across my skin. I exhaled an irritated breath and managed to take another step.
“We found aliens.” Justet didn’t seem to notice my progress.
I stared. “Say again?”
“Yeah. Out in the Sonoran desert, not far from Fort Huachuca.”
Cold swept my body.
“Fort Huachuca? Like in Arizona?”
“Where else?”
I swallowed. “So like—uh, Retha?”
“What do you know about Retha?” Justet remained completely still, aside from the gentle bob of the flashlight.
I shrugged. My hands curled into fists. “Just what I found in your office. That coin.”
“This coin?” Justet held the silver coin between two fingers.
I wanted to snatch it out of his hand, but I just clenched my fists tighter. “Yeah.”
“So?”
“So,” I said, trying not to yell, “a foreign-looking, silver coin was found at the crime scenes of over a dozen missing military personnel and police officers, stamped with those same five letters!”
“So?” he repeated.
“So!” I forced the anger back, closing my eyes for a brief moment and rubbing my hands together. “So I’d like to know what R-E-T-H-A stands for. And how you’re connected to that coin.”
Justet came closer. I retreated down the wall a few more paces. A partially-stable Justet in a room full of witnesses was one thing. A completely unhinged one alone with me in the armory was something else entirely. I was quite suddenly aware of just where my obsession had landed me.
“We tried. We called homeland security, the secret service, the CIA, the FBI, everyone we could think of. They didn’t . . . they don’t . . . It wasn’t a credible threat, they said. Not enough evidence. We’ll look into it. The shove off basically.”
“What?” Why did I think I was going to get actual intel out of him?
“You asked.” He shrugged.
“You’re a nut,” I said.
I hated him. His stupid, earnest expression and the way he leaned intimately toward me. I slid cautiously along the wall, trying to imagine an escape route besides the latrine, with its small, high windows and single door. I supposed I could make a break for the front doors, but that would leave me wide open to a bullet in the back.
“You think I’m the nut?” I froze. Justet’s voice sounded more like a threat.
“Meaning?” The door to the latrine was in reaching distance now. I could smell the ammonia.
“Meaning that you’ve put us in a tough spot.”
“I put you in a tough spot?”
“You saw the ammo. What do you think ammo’s for?”
“Firing ranges—?”
“Killing people, smartass.”
I was dead.
He pointed his pistol at my chest. I cringed and slowly raised my hands. If the military had taught me one thing, it was to respect a loaded weapon.
“We’re going after them. The Rethans. They’ve set up this thing on an electrical tower outside of Fort Huachuca. The question is, are they stealing electricity or sending something else through it? What if this is the first step to their take over?” Justet went on. “But we can stop them. We can stop all this before it’s too late! We even have a source that’s paying us top dollar to go down to the base and grab their stuff for evidence.”
I felt for the handle to the latrine. “Wait, this is about money? Noble.”
“No, it’s not about the money! It’s about,” Justet turned back, his voice taking on an oddly reasonable tone. “It’s about protecting all those people out there from the fancy big wigs who don’t believe a threat like this is credible.” His eyes locked on mine. “And we don’t need you screwing everything up with your big mouth and overdeveloped sense of morality.” Justet shook his head. “So the question remains: what the hell are we going to do with you?”
“Dammit, sir! What’s taking so long?” Sanderford suddenly appeared in the CTA. Several other dark figures eased behind him. Justet turned to look.
I thrust the latrine door open, lunged inside, and tried to slam the door behind me. A shoulder thrust it open, throwing me back. I scrambled for the plunger in stall three.
“Where does she think she’s going?”
“Grab her!”
A half a dozen men followed me into the latrine. I managed to get my hands around the splintery handle of the plunger before being yanked backward by my collar. My uniform cut into my neck, choking me. I tried to get my feet under me as I was dragged out of the stall. Sanderford shoved me against the wall. I coughed, running my fingers under the collar of my shirt. My tags clanked together.
The small room was cramped with so many bodies inside. The only light was Justet’s flashlight flickering across faces and walls.
“Quit stalling, L.T.” Sanderford said. His sandy hair looked thin and balding with the flashlight behind it.
“Okay, but I was thinking—” Justet reverted back to whining.
“Shut up, Justet. Give me the damn pistol.”
Justet’s flashlight strobed the walls and faces as they argued. I saw a flash of the pistol between them. I gulped oxygen and started to push myself to my feet. The handle of the plunger pressed into my palm.
Private Luginbeel suddenly leered over me. His half-rotted front tooth gaped against the black of his mouth. I fell back in surprise. “Should’ve let me buy you that drink, Rose.”
“Get away from me,” I rasped the words, and tried to push him away. He leaned out of my reach with a nasty laugh.
“Always wanted to know what it felt like to kill someone. Why else would anyone put up with years of this shit?” The words whistled between his teeth. He pressed two fingers gun-style to my forehead and pulled an imaginary trigger. “Kapow!”
I swung the plunger and it splintered against Luginbeel’s face. He went down with a howl. The rubber end of the plunger flew in the opposite direction. I pushed to my feet, clutching the small ragged end as another figure rose to my left. The other private leapt back, barely avoiding being impaled by my plunger stick. I chucked the stick after him. A solid clunk and a surprised “Gah!” told me I’d hit my target.
Luginbeel clamored to his feet. I smashed my fist into his nose. Cartilage crushed under my knuckles. My already mangled ha
nd seared with pain. Luginbeel squealed and collapsed on his side.
Arms wrapped me from behind, pinning my arms to my side. I kicked into open air, bashing back my head at the same time. The back of my skull connected with a face, and the arms released me. I shoved Sanderford away. He stumbled against the sink, hand at his cheek.
“Rose, stop!”
I whirled to face Justet, my fists raised.
He pointed the pistol at my face. “I said, stop.”
I opened my hands slowly.
“She hit me!” Luginbeel got to his feet, his voice nasal. One hand covered his nose.
Justet coughed. “Yeah, she does that.”
“Not quite like killing someone,” I said, searching for another avenue of escape, “but, yeah, it does sorta feel good.” The taunt surprised me with how true it was. “Hey, Private, have fun telling your pals how your nose got busted.”
Luginbeel pulled his hand from his mangled nose and looked at the blood on his fingers.
“I’ll kill her!” He sprang at me.
Justet caught Luginbeel by the arm and forced him back. The pistol was now pointed in the general direction of Sanderford. I raced for the door.
I didn’t make it two steps before pain shattered through the back of my skull in a flash of blue light. The floor rose before me. My knees hit the tile with twin thuds, and my hands felt weighted. My cheekbone smashed against the floor. A vapor of darkness congested the single clear bulb of light shining in my eyes.
“Hand me that pistol, sir,” the hollow voice bounced an echo into the distance. “No loose ends.”
My fingers curled, trying to drag me somewhere—anywhere but the painful now as a “loose end.” A foot jammed under my stomach and heaved me onto my back. Sanderford leaned over me, his face fading with the dimming light. He reached for me.
“What’s this?”
I felt a tug and the chain of my dog tags chafed my neck. The vapor solidified into blessed nonexistence.
CHAPTER 5
Caz
Retha
20 years pre-RAGE