The Tide_Dead Ashore

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  He knew what she was thinking. Neither of them was new to intelligence gathering. They both knew that prying intel out of an asset under duress almost never yielded anything useful. And trying to get worthwhile information from a man who might be senile was like betting on a lame horse to win the Kentucky Derby.

  But he was tired of waiting. Tired of running into dead ends every time it seemed as if they had found an exit from this Byzantine labyrinth of conspiracy and nightmares. He grabbed the handle on the med bay’s hatch.

  “Dom!” Meredith called to him.

  Dom whipped around. He looked at Meredith with eyes narrowed. Heat flushed through his face—anger at being distracted from his mission. But he pushed the rage aside. Meredith was not his enemy.

  “Dom,” she said. “You have to think this through. We don’t know how many shots we’ll get at interrogating this guy.”

  “And we don’t know how long it’ll be until Spitkovsky releases the next phase of the Oni Agent.”

  “Which is why we have to do this right.”

  “We can’t sit around and twiddle our thumbs, talking about how to do this right.” He waved a hand. “Just like the CIA did. Just like the UN did. Just like our goddamned government did. Look where that’s gotten us. We need to act now.”

  “I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But don’t let your hotheadedness ruin this for us.” She gestured to the empty corridors. He knew what she meant. The ship. His crew. His family. Him. Her.

  Dom’s heart still pounded, fueled by an anger that thrashed like a fish on a dock, not wanting to die. He pushed at it anyway. His fingers slipped from the hatch’s handle. “I know.”

  Meredith nodded. She grabbed his wrist. “We have to do this the right way.”

  “I know,” he said again. “But we don’t have the luxury of deliberation anymore. This is Spitkovsky’s game. Not ours. We don’t even know the goddamn rules. I want something we can use when we reach Lajes. I want to know how the Oni Agent spread in the first place. Why they did it, and how they plan to finish the job they started.”

  “So do I. But we’ve got to be rational.”

  “You’re right.” Dom willed his breathing to slow. “And on any other mission, I would be one hundred percent on your side.”

  Meredith rolled her eyes. “Good God, Dom. Don’t tell me you’re still going in there.”

  “I’m still going in there.” The beast of anger still raged in him, but he had caged it. For the time being, at least. If he let his mind stray too far, back to Renee and Hector and... No, no, listen to Mere. “I’m going to talk to that piece of shit. But I’ll be as nice as I damn well can.”

  “That vein’s popping in your forehead again.”

  “And if Matsumoto is lucky, that’ll be the only thing popping.”

  “At least let me come with.”

  “I was never going to tell you not to.”

  “And even if you did, I’d still be in there.”

  “I know.” There was a beat of silence. Just Dom’s pulse pounding in his ears. “We going to do the old good cop, bad cop thing?”

  “Yeah, sure, something like that.”

  They entered the med bay. Lauren shot him a suspicious glance from the lab. She put down whatever she was working on, peeled off her gloves, and joined them.

  “You want to talk to Matsumoto, don’t you?” she asked.

  Dom nodded. “How’d you guess?”

  “I could see it in your eyes, Dom. You’d be a terrible poker player.”

  “So can we get to it?”

  “We can try.”

  He had expected Lauren to protest, but she seemed to have no issue with his plan. Maybe she was at the end of her rope, too.

  He looked at the man lying alone in a patient bed. IV tubes traced from plastic bags and into the leather of his skin. Other tubes snaked from an oxygen tank and into his nostrils. Bastard shouldn’t even be alive. From everything Lauren had told him, Matsumoto was more machine than human.

  “Can you wake him?” Dom asked.

  “I can try,” Lauren said. “Hold on.” She retrieved a syringe full of some clear liquid. She attached the syringe to a nozzle on the IV tube and pushed it in.

  Dom loomed over Matsumoto. The man’s breathing remained the same. In. Out. Painfully slow, assisted by the machines blinking and buzzing all around him. His eyelids fluttered.

  Dom held his breath.

  Matsumoto grumbled. His head lolled sideways, his lips open. Then he turned slowly. He said something in Japanese.

  Lauren sat on a stool behind them, watching Matsumoto’s biomonitors. Meredith placed a hand on Dom’s shoulder, half to reassure him and half to hold him back.

  Matsumoto’s eyelids fluttered again. This time they stayed open. He stared up at Dom. No hint of recognition or understanding. There was only a bleary-eyed, gray weakness behind his gaze. This wasn’t the visage of a man ruled by his hatred against the United States. Nor was it the look of a deranged sociopath yearning to conquer the world. There was something almost like...

  No, that can’t be.

  Dom recognized the look in the man’s face. Pity. Goddamn motherfucking pity.

  “You...you are the Americans,” Matsumoto said. His words were barely tarnished by a slight accent. “Pyotr warned about you. Told me...my work...”

  The man’s eyes gleamed with tears.

  The beast of rage within Dom fell back inside its cage. Confused.

  Matsumoto mumbled something in Japanese. His eyes seemed to lose their focus, and the babble of words slowed to a trickle.

  “Lauren, what’s going on?” Dom asked.

  “His lucidity does not last,” she said. “He was fading long before he got on this ship.”

  “Matsumoto,” Dom said, his voice chilled and smooth. It was hard to believe this man was supposedly still working in the Congo up until mere days ago. “I need you to talk to me. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  The old man’s focus came back. “My children. My wife. My parents. My family. Taken by American bombs. No chance to fight back. No honor in a death like that.” A veiny hand reached out and grabbed Dom’s wrist. “I couldn’t let the world fall like that. There’s a warrior in all of us. Everyone. It is better to die by the sword than be burned in our sleep.”

  “Did you drug him?” Dom asked.

  “Could be the sedatives,” Lauren said. “Or maybe this is just how he is now.”

  “The Amanojaku. Shinigami. The death gods are on earth,” he said. “We cannot control them. Only the shinigami control the shinigami.”

  Dom tried to follow the man.

  “The shinigami lords will stop the deathless.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Dom said, “I knew this guy was mad, but...is he talking about the Titans?”

  Meredith shrugged. “Damned if I know.”

  “Matsumoto,” Dom said, “I need to know what Pyotr has planned. More Titans? Did you help him do that?”

  “I work, a shackled man. Want to die,” he said. “But Pyotr does not let me.” Then his eyes blazed. All pity, all sorrow gone. “Men, women, children, they will no longer bow to the shameful emperor of the Americans. Because soon they will all be gods. And gods do not bow to men.”

  The man reached out, grabbing Dom’s collar.

  “Pyotr promised my honor would be returned to me. To my family. You will not stop him. You will not stop the shinigami. They have only just begun the march on mankind.”

  The knobby-knuckled fingers let go, and Matsumoto fell back against his bed. His eyes fluttered closed.

  “Matsumoto, what do you mean? When is this happening?” Dom demanded.

  But the old man was gone again.

  -3-

  Shepherd stood at the chart table on the Huntress’s bridge. Officer of the Watch Cliff Slaton’s face was buried in the instruments, while Dom’s first mate, Thomas Hampton, watched silently. Thomas was still moving with a robotic stiffness, evidence of the injuries
he’d sustained during the Huntress’s takeover several weeks ago, but the wrinkles radiating from his eyes made him look every bit like the salty sea dog he was.

  “Just another day, maybe two, depending on the weather,” Cliff said.

  “I miss weather reports,” Thomas said. “Could really use access to Doppler right now.”

  “It’s almost like we’re sailing in the time of wooden sloops and schooners.”

  Thomas laughed, rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers. “Boy, I was born in those days.”

  Cliff smirked, his bright-blue eyes still on the cresting waves ahead. “You wish, old man.”

  Gray skies were on the horizon, and the waters looked choppier than usual. “I’m not a sailor,” Shepherd said, surveying the ominous dark clouds. “But do you really need Doppler to tell you things are rough out there?”

  “We got a landlubber over here telling us how to sail our ship,” Thomas said with a faux pirate accent.

  “Truth is,” Cliff said, “a little rough water is one thing. But I’d like to know how rough. If we knew where this storm head begins and ends, we could see if it’s avoidable—and if it’s worth avoiding.”

  “Fair enough,” Shepherd said. He leaned on the chart table with his eyes still glued to the horizon. All these men and women aboard the Huntress seemed to worship the ocean. The real world lived and functioned and thrived on land, where human beings had created civilization.

  The call to land became greater with each mile he had put between himself and his garrison at Fort Detrick. Maybe a court martial was waiting for him when he returned. Maybe something worse. But the longer he spent here on the Huntress, the longer he delayed facing reality. He needed to get back to Fort Detrick, or at least Kent Island, where a refuge had been established for civilians weathering the storm of the Oni Agent. He knew the midshipmen on board, Rachel Kaufman and Rory Booker, were itching to get back to their stations there too. The two brave cadets had followed him across the ocean to fulfill their promise to Dom, but now all three of them wanted to get back to work.

  Thankfully, it seemed Dom needed them to go back, too. At least, he assumed that was why Dom had called their meeting today. Footsteps on the stairs—ladders, Shepherd corrected himself. That was what the crew called them. Footsteps on the ladders announced the entrance of the others for today’s conference.

  Meredith came first, followed by Lauren and Dom. The trio sat around the chart table, joining Shepherd and Thomas. The darkness sagging under Dom’s eyes gave away his exhaustion, and judging by the way he was clenching his jaw, his talk with Matsumoto hadn’t been as fruitful as any of them had hoped.

  “We’ll be at Lajes within a couple days,” Thomas began.

  “Colonel Ronaldo knows to expect us then?” Dom asked.

  “He does,” Thomas said. “Spoke to him not too long ago. He’s looking forward to it. Wanted to know if there’s anything he can do to prepare for our arrival.”

  “Warm up the grills and start the cookout,” Meredith said. “I hear the islands are nice this time of year.”

  “Anything’s nice that isn’t infested with Skulls,” Dom said. “Unfortunately, a beach bonfire isn’t going to solve the problems we’re facing right now.”

  Dom didn’t need to go over the litany of challenges facing them. Shepherd and the others were well versed in them by now.

  “I take it Matsumoto didn’t have anything useful to say,” Shepherd said.

  “Other than some cryptic warnings, no. At least his ramblings seem to support what Meredith and the others found in the data we recovered from FGL.”

  “Damn shame,” Shepherd said. “You planning to tell Kinsey?”

  Dom had initially held back on sharing everything they had found in the Congo. Shepherd understood why. General Kinsey’s people had put him through the wringer, taking him through his own “enhanced interrogation” to confirm their suspicions that Dom, Meredith, and the Hunters were somehow responsible for the Oni Agent. Dom wanted to be sure that Kinsey would believe the intel when they sent it, and he wanted assurances that Kinsey would act on it.

  As soon as they reopened communications with Kinsey, they risked letting the general and his cohorts know where the Huntress was and approximately where they planned to go. Dom had only just gotten his ship back from the US Coast Guard, and doing so hadn’t come without a cost—to both the Hunters and to the USCG.

  “I don’t think we’re left with any other choice,” Dom finally said. “Kinsey has to know Spitkovsky is planning something. Whether he thinks we’re involved or not at this point isn’t my concern. If Spitkovsky launches a new attack that catches them all off guard, then that will be my fault.”

  “I understand,” Shepherd said. “Look, I know we’ve discussed this before, but we need to revisit it. Your people can’t get me back to the United States. I understand that. The chopper only gets us so far, and resources and time are limited. When we get to Lajes, though, I think that’s got to be it for me. If Ronaldo can spare a plane, I want to return home.”

  “Are you planning on Kent or trying to get back to Detrick?” Dom asked.

  “I haven’t worked that out yet,” Shepherd said. “Neither really has the capacity to land and refuel a plane that can handle a trans-Atlantic flight.”

  “So you’re thinking about requesting a landing in a militarized safe zone.”

  “That would be correct,” Shepherd said. “I think it’s necessary.”

  “In that case, we’ll definitely need to reestablish comms with Kinsey,” Dom said. He didn’t look as pissed as Shepherd had thought he would. “I don’t want you getting shot down.”

  “You know, neither do I. I realize this puts you at risk, though, so if you would prefer we not connect with Stateside bases, I understand. We can also try to run things through Lajes.”

  Meredith tilted her head in bemusement. “And how are you going to explain a random trip to Lajes when you make that call?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Dom shook his head. “It’s high time that we reestablish a more formal relationship with the US government. I think we’ve come to a point in this mission where we need their support. If we don’t have that, we might as well keep shooting random Skulls while we wait for Spitkovsky to make his move.”

  “I think I can work with the data you have and serve as an emissary to Kinsey,” Shepherd said. “If I willingly go to him, he’ll have to see that as a sign of trust.”

  “Sounds damn optimistic for a man who was already tortured once by Kinsey’s people,” Thomas said.

  “You’re one hundred percent right, but what else do I have to lose at this point? I’m supposed to be the one in charge at Detrick, and I’m halfway across the world instead. This isn’t right for me—or for the men and women who are still serving there.”

  “I have a feeling the midshipmen might want to go back with you,” Dom said.

  “They’ve told me as much.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Dom looked toward Meredith. “And like you always remind me, we’ve got one shot at this. I want to do this right. We’re going to share absolutely everything we’ve found with Kinsey.” His eyes met Lauren’s. “That means everything from the Phoenix Compound to what we uncovered on Spitkovsky and the Titans. All of it.”

  “Understood,” Meredith said. “I’ll work with Chao and Samantha to write up some intel briefs.”

  “I’ve already documented everything on the Phoenix Compound,” Lauren said. “It’ll be no problem to share it. And you know as well as I do, we can barely produce enough for the whole crew. We need Kinsey and anyone else out there with access to pharmaceutical manufacturing resources to start churning out the compound as soon as possible. We can also provide template compounds to get them up and running much sooner.”

  “Templates?” Shepherd asked.

  “Physical samples they can reproduce to ensure they’re making the right stuff right away.”

  Dom tu
rned to Lauren. “Do you think Matsumoto can handle a flight?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose, if we can set up the equipment.”

  “It’s time we returned him to the States,” Dom said. “Show Kinsey we mean business. Lauren, I don’t mean any disrespect, but our medical resources are limited. Maybe they can do more for Matsumoto than we can.”

  Lauren nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll need to send someone to take care of him on the trip.”

  Dom’s eyes closed. Shepherd could tell he didn’t relish splitting his crew up. “Of course. We’ll do what we have to. Matsumoto must make it to the United States alive.”

  “I’ll make sure that happens,” Shepherd said. “As long as I’m breathing, that bastard is going to stay alive long enough to see what he’s done.”

  ***

  Kara’s hair whipped across her face and tickled her skin. Her hands tightened around the railing. Her father didn’t like her coming out onto the deck in weather like this, but she knew she could handle it. The ocean was a bit choppy, sure, but she couldn’t stand being cooped up inside the ship for days on end. There were only so many card games she could play with Kara, Rachel, Rory, and Navid.

  Even though her work with the FoldIt program had unlocked the Phoenix Compound, there was precious little she could do now to help out. All the other scientific tasks were beyond her meager experience, and she could appreciate the fact that Lauren and Navid hadn’t really had time to devote to training her.

  Still, she wanted to do something to help around here.

  I guess staying out of people’s way is something.

  “Kara!” a shrill voice yelled. Her sister, Sadie.

  Or more importantly, keeping Sadie out of the way. She smiled.

  “It’s so cool up here. Look at those clouds!” Sadie said, leaning against the gunwale.

  Kara grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. “Careful, there.”

  “But we’re not even on the outer deck,” Sadie said. “If I fell, I’d just hit that deck.” She pointed to the flat metallic surface. “No big deal.”

  “Remind me you said that after you knock yourself out with a fall.”

  Sadie grinned. “I think I’ll pass.”