by Riley Flynn
“Byrne, if you’re out there, this is Alex Early.”
Another murmur. Alex began to walk back toward the cliffs, aiming straight for the setting sun.
“Early. I know who you are.”
Alex knew the voice, even drenched in the robotic tones. It appeared in his ear, a direct route to his brain. He spun round, expecting to see Byrne behind him. No one there. He kept back towards the cliffs.
“I see you’ve been busy, Early.”
The forest was thick. Hard to concentrate on picking a path through, avoiding the traps, and trying to listen, all at the same time.
“How do you know who I am?”
Still too far from the cliff edges. That was the open space, the place where he could see someone coming. Alex knelt down beside a fallen tree trunk and pressed the earpiece in deeper.
“We know your name, Early.” Byrne was speaking in a flat, careful tone. Not mocking. Not goading. He didn’t need any of that. The arrogance of the man, Alex thought. Even at his most desperate, he was confident of taking his target alive.
“We need you to come with us.”
“There’s only one of you now.”
“Maybe. In which case, you will have to come with me.”
“You don’t care that I killed Root?”
“Ah, Root. A good man. Dedicated.”
Alex poked his head above the tree trunk. He couldn’t see anyone. No movement.
“If you still want those flash drives, they’re on the cliff. Go and get them. They’re all yours.”
Byrne didn’t respond. He’s closing in on me, Alex thought, trying to hear me speak. Keeping low, clicking his fingers for Finn, he moved to a new spot.
“You think we want those drives?” Alex could almost hear a note of pity in Byrne’s voice. Maybe he was just hearing things. “Did you even read what was on them?”
“I saw the names.”
“Yes.”
“You want the names and medical records.”
“Oh, Mr. Early. What have you done?”
Alex was still some distance from the cliffs. The quickest way back was along the paths which were littered with traps. Maybe if he could get Byrne to chase him, he could get the agent to run into one by mistake. Too risky. What if Byrne just shot him?
“You don’t want the flash drives, then?”
“Did you even read the names? Any of the records? Or did you just panic?”
“I read some.”
He should get behind Byrne, make it easy to pull the rifle on him.
“Did you happen to see your own name among the select few?”
Alex needed a distraction. Something to turn Byrne’s attentions in the other direction. Then his blood ran cold. His brain unscrambled the words.
“What do you mean, my name?”
A robotic chuckle.
“Early, you’re one of our lucky winners. Come out and collect your prize.”
“Won what? I didn’t enter anything.”
“You didn’t need to. In a way, you’ve always been a winner.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
Alex’s ear hurt, he was pressing the piece in so far. The rest of his body ached, his stomach still in knots.
“I don’t understand, Byrne.”
“I am sure there is so, so much you don’t understand, Early. If you come calmly with me, I’d be happy to explain.”
Don’t listen to him. It was Timmy’s voice, buried deep inside Alex’s mind. Don’t listen to him. Feds don’t talk. Fed don’t explain everything to you. He’s trying to trick you, man. He’s trying to keep you talking.
The pressure on the earpiece lessened. Alex listened to his own thoughts. He looked down at Finn. No wag of the tail. Even the dog knew this was serious.
“You smell something, boy?” Alex whispered. “Go find him. Go. Get!”
Alex waved his hands at the trees. Finn understood. He ran away, his black and brown coat lost among the undergrowth.
If Byrne wanted time, he could have time. Alex began to move, talking into the radio as he went.
“So tell me what I don’t understand, Byrne.”
“I’m afraid we simply do not have the time.”
“Test me. Tell me about the list.”
“You think you’re special?”
“I think you want me pretty bad. So that makes me special, I guess.”
“We don’t really want you, Early. You are very little by yourself. We want what’s inside of you.”
Alex moved slow and placed each foot with care. Not one slip, not one snapped twig. He lowered his shoulders, lifted the rifle. He could hear movement nearby.
“Like, my ideas?”
The laugh was more boisterous this time. Alex heard it ripple through the forest in his open ear.
“What is it then, Byrne? You think I’m a threat?”
“Boy, you don’t know what you are. You know nothing.”
“Enlighten me.”
“There’s nothing special about you, Mr. Early. You or anyone else on that list. You are all – quite simply - aberrations. Fortunate humans who happened across a specific strand of DNA which, in the present environment, is particularly valuable.”
“Is it my lovely eyes?”
No laugh this time. But Alex had moved closer. He could hear the movement clearly now. He could hear the words as they were spoken and the slight delay as they echoed inside his ear.
“A trick of the blood, Mr. Early. Immunity is about to be the most valuable commodity in the world. There’s a gold rush, boy, and it’s in your veins. We only need your blood, we don’t need the rest of you.”
Byrne stood with his wrist to his mouth and a pistol in one hand. Alex could see him. Thirty yards away, moving between the trees.
“Think about it, Alex.” Byrne’s voice suddenly took on a softer tone. “Think of how many lives we could save with just a few capsules of your untainted, untouched blood? You could save hundreds. Thousands. Millions. Billions.”
The last word was allowed to linger. Alex had spent every minute of his life these past weeks working hard to save lives. He’d put everything into keeping his friends safe. And now, this man was telling him how he could save so many more. For just a moment, he was tempted.
“I don’t trust you. You don’t seem the sharing type.”
Byrne sneered a smile.
“Maybe not. But maybe I can just take what I need anyway?”
“Put the gun down!” Alex shouted the words and raised the rifle. “Put it down now, Byrne.”
The man turned. His pistol twitched toward Alex but then his arms began to raise slowly into the air. Byrne released his grip on the pistol and it swung around, his finger still looped through the trigger guard.
“I said put it down!”
“Listen, Early, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. I-”
No quarter. Alex squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened. Just a clink of metal hitting metal and nothing else. Alex looked down at the rifle. Jammed. He knew it. Staring wouldn’t help. He didn’t know what else to do. It was like the bottom had fallen out of the world, leaving him hovering over the bowels of hell, waiting to fall.
Alex was scared. Terrified.
Alex ran.
Chapter 40
Alex ran as fast as he could.
Behind him, Byrne fired his gun. The shots flew past, forcing Alex to duck and weave. Crashing through the undergrowth, no longer worried about making noise, he just had to put distance between himself and the CIA man.
Alex vaulted over a tree trunk and paused, recovering his breath. He knelt, trying to listen for Byrne. All he could hear was his own throbbing veins. The man was still out there, somewhere. Finn, too. Staying still didn’t help anyone.
The sun was almost down. The terracotta light was left trickling through the trees, coating the world in a soft glow. Alex began to run again, watching the ground in front of him. The last thing he needed was to fall on one o
f his own traps.
Root’s body was on the path ahead. Alex had done a whole lap, circled back to where he’d started. That meant the cliff edges were up ahead.
Byrne burst onto the path, already swinging a fist. He hit Alex in the temple, knocking him to the ground.
The world exploded with pain, Alex tumbling and turning across the path. As he fell, he caught an arm on the sharpened spike he’d planted in the ground. The same one which had caught Root.
Alex looked up, his eyes blurred. Byrne stretched his arms, stroked his mustache flat with the palm of his hand.
“Byrne…” Alex tasted blood in his mouth. “Byrne, wait-”
Byrne didn’t wait. Alex was still tottering to his feet when the foot flew at him. He could barely dodge, taking the flat sole of the boot in his thigh.
“No waiting, Early. No pleading. No talking. No begging. No nothing. We’re done.”
Alex wanted Finn. The dog. They had trained him. Bite into Byrne’s arm. Leap out of the bushes and save me, Alex thought. Nothing happened.
Damn it, Alex thought. The instruction. What was it? He’d talked about it with Timmy. They’d worked on it. Then, he remembered.
“Strike!” Alex remembered the word, calling it out as loud as he could, hoping to see Finn leaping from the undergrowth to take down the assailant.
But nothing happened.
“Your wish is my command, Mr. Early.”
Byrne cracked his knuckles as Alex staggered to his feet. The man was enjoying this.
A gun. Alex needed a gun. The Savage was back on the forest floor somewhere.
But Root must have a pistol. Government issue. Still in the holster under his arm. Alex’s own pistol was gone. He didn’t know where. Fallen on the ground near Root. Another stupid mistake.
Alex’s thoughts tripped and collided with one another, the world still spinning around him. Root’s body on the ground, Byrne beside it, beginning to enjoy himself.
Stand up and fight back, Alex told himself.
Byrne walked forward. He had quick feet for a big man. With a quick shuffle, Alex dropped his eyes to the path. As he looked away, Byrne hit him hard in the neck.
Alex tumbled into a dead tree stump, the rotten wood cushioning his fall and collapsing under his back. Stand up and fight back. He teetered to his feet.
There was no need for Byrne to walk fast. He strolled across to Alex, walking entirely on his toes. Ready to move.
Alex tried to watch the motion of every muscle. Looking for the slightest indication – any warning – of where the next punch was coming from. Byrne raised his fists like a boxer, feinted with the left and planted a jab in Alex’s gut.
The world seemed smaller. Darker. The sun was setting. Or Alex’s vision was shrinking. The dark blurs at the edge of his sight inched inwards. Byrne was standing there, alone in the center of Alex’s eyeline.
The fists came up again. They didn’t need to do any defensive work. Alex stole a glance, a quick look, checking for Root’s body. The gun. That’s where he needed to go. Byrne didn’t bother following the flicker of his victim’s eyes. He was too busy picking his next blow.
Everything seemed to slow down. Alex saw the shoulder twitch. Ever so slightly. Just a fraction. The top of the right arm, preparing. When the punch came, he knew where to dodge. How to roll. It almost worked.
Throwing himself to the right, Alex missed the first hit. He wasn’t prepared for the second. Byrne’s other hand, following through on his ribs. Still a rookie, Alex knew, the pain exploding through his torso.
The blow knocked Alex to the ground. But it threw him closer to Root’s body. Not close enough.
Alex spat on the ground. A bubbling pool of red spit mixed in with the mud.
It took all the energy in the world to pick himself up, to prop himself on his hands and knees. He had to reach Root’s body. He had to. He began to crawl toward the dead man.
Byrne laughed.
“You’re going to make me a rich man, Early.”
He kicked Alex in the ribs.
Alex kept crawling.
“A very, very rich man.”
He kicked Alex again. The force of the boot sent Alex flying forward, onto Root’s body.
“Root would have loved all this.” Byrne was standing back, taking in a view of his handiwork. “Shame about him. Real pity.”
The body was cold. Alex was lying on top of the bloodied chest, face down. Quietly, subtlety, he tried to explore Root’s ribs, searching for the gun. It had to be there somewhere.
There was nothing there. Byrne was approaching. Casual footsteps.
Alex stared into Root’s dead eyes, his face level with the bloody stake driven into the man’s chest. He tried to raise his arm, trying to reach the other side. Any sort of gun. Anything.
Byrne was nearly upon him. Alex looked up, the dead man’s blood all over his face. He heaved himself forward, further on top of the dead man.
“You’re coming with me.”
Alex could feel the hands reaching down to grab him. Byrne’s grip on both his shoulders tightened. He allowed himself to be lifted away from the body.
As Byrne picked him up, Alex twitched his arm. He had one chance. It had to be perfect. He felt his weight lessen as the man lifted him up from the body.
Alex stretched out a hand. He tore the stake from Root’s chest. It slid out, already coated in blood.
The stake felt wet. Alex threw all his strength into one long, swinging motion. He brought the stake around, up, and into the side of Byrne’s body. The wooden tip ran straight through the fatigues, just above the hip and below the body armor.
Byrne screamed in agony. He stumbled backward, his hands searching for the stake in his side. Alex stepped back, trying to put space between them.
Grunting, breathing heavy, Byrne realized what had happened. He turned two burning, furious eyes toward Alex. He reached for his gun.
The man began to walk through the forest, his pistol back in his hand. He was in no rush, taking his time, eyes never leaving Alex. Blood poured down over his leg, pumping out of the wound.
Alex was exhausted. Broken. Everything he tried failed. Everything he attempted just resulted in more pain. Maybe he should just roll over and die. Maybe he should just let Byrne take him away, string him up and drain him dry. The sweet relief of death felt like a real option now. It would take the pain away, as well as the guilt and the regret.
The world seemed louder. Alex was sure he could feel the man’s breath on his face, even with the space between them. He could hear the birds and their evening lament, he was certain, and a rustle in the bushes to the side.
His skin could feel the rough, unwashed cotton of his T-shirt, his mouth could taste the regret of the jammed rifle and the blood between his teeth. He was sure he could see every single atom of the pistol muzzle as it began to point at him.
“Now keep very still, Early. I would not like to spill more than I have to. Though now you’ve removed my partner from the equation, I suppose my share just doubled.”
Alex could hear that rustle again, could feel the biting cold breeze on his cheek. If only he had more time. Byrne advanced, one arm holding the gun steady, the other trying to dam the rivers of blood.
There was no plan. Root’s gun wasn’t there. The stake hanging out of Byrne’s side wouldn’t kill him quick enough. Alex needed a miracle.
“You want me alive?” Alex raised his hands. “I’ll come.”
“That won’t be necessary, Early. We can do without you.”
“But my blood. You said you needed it.”
“Are you aware how much blood a laboratory actually needs?” His words were labored. “I assure you, it’s a surprisingly small amount. Why, we found traces of you in Rockton and look where it brought us. We peeled it off the fist of a fellow agent you left lying in an alley.”
“But more is better, right? More money?”
Byrne was almost upon him now. Alex could see the whites of
the man’s eyes. All the sounds of the forest, the rustles and the birds, played out like an orchestra behind the approaching man.
“I’m not sure there’s many people left to pay what I want. Supply and demand.”
“But you want me alive?” Alex could hear the fear and the pleading in his own voice. “I’m worth more alive?”
“Perhaps.” Byrne’s greedy eyes burned brightly. “But it’s not essential.”
Alex stepped backward, trying to escape. He’d played all his cards. Nothing else had worked.
“Well, what about your superiors? Surely they want to take me back for tests or something?”
“Superiors? Tests?” Byrne licked his dry lips. Alex could see the cracked pink skin. “I think you’ve misunderstood the situation, Early. We’re working very much off the books here. Too much blood would be too much noise, do you follow me? Scarcity has a value all of its own.”
Byrne was a few feet from Alex. Empty space between them. No more trees to duck behind. A gorse bush growing heavy on one side, a view to the setting sun on the other, glimpsed between the trees. Byrne took aim.
“Now, Early, please hold very still. I’ll try not to spill too much.”
Byrne looked down the short barrel of the pistol. Alex stood still.
Nothing else to do. No plans left. No last chances.
It was too far to dive at the agent. Nowhere to dodge.
The gorse bush too thick to allow him inside, too brittle to provide cover from bullets.
Alex watched the muzzle level with his eyes, saw Byrne flex his neck.
The gorse bush moved. The world slowed down. Byrne’s eyes turned toward the movement and the pistol wavered. Alex was sure he caught a glimpse of a familiar patch of fur.
It was a tiny chance. A hail Mary attempt. But he had to try. With every last ounce of energy he had, Alex called out.
“Strike!”
Finn leapt out from the undergrowth, his teeth bared and white.
The dog bit into Byrne’s arm, snapping down and pushing him to the ground. Alex ran across, his limbs struggling to hold him upright. He ripped the pistol from the flailing arm, pointed it at the whirling mess of man and dog.
Byrne kicked out and swung a fist. Finn flew across the path and fell flat. The dog didn’t move.