Vile Machinations

by P. S. Power

  "Well, hopefully we can make the place smell a bit better before dinner time?"

  That seemed likely, since the air sucked out of the room then.

  Through vents in the ceiling. He didn’t know if that was normal, but as the air became thin for a moment, he thought he saw Doc grinning. More than a little bit manically.

  Chapter four

  The air replacement cycle didn't take him, or the tiny Doctor, down to the ground. It was close though, with a lot of gasping and panting in the thin air. Only for a few minutes, while everything inside the building was stripped out and purified. Then air rushed back in, with his new, probably insane, buddy holding her hand up. She spoke, but only briefly.

  "There are three." That was all she got out before the next round of air cleaning took place. That time the smaller woman had to sit, not able to get enough oxygen to keep going.

  On the third round Connor went down to the floor himself. What didn't happen was going all the way black, though the world had gotten a bit sparkly and dim at the edges. Everything felt electric by the end as well. The unpleasant kind of tingle that meant you’d done something terribly wrong. Thankfully in the wrong places. His fingers, hands and lips were buzzing. The whole place smelled of copper suddenly, as well. That might have been from a chemical used to clean the incoming air, of course. It could also have been from blood leaking into his nasal passages.

  He stood first, though didn’t talk, since there didn't seem to be any real reason for it at the moment. Bertie got herself up from the floor just as several dark suited men with oxygen masks on ran into the room. At first, for a moment, Connor nearly started fighting. It was only when the men spoke, showing that they were somewhat familiar, from that morning, that he managed to hold back.

  Not that he was in any shape at the moment to really put up a good struggle. It would be happening though, if anyone came at him too aggressively. His training had forced that kind of discussion out of his hands. Thankfully, no one had a firearm out. That would have been too much, he had to admit.

  One of the men, Babbage, spoke first.

  "Evacuation. We'll have exit vehicles here inside five minutes. Don't take anything with you. Nothing. Go to your designated areas for that. In five-minus. Go!" Instead of pushing them to run, the two men turned and jogged out, probably to inform everyone else of what was happening.

  For the first time since he'd met her, Doc stripped her white lab coat off and started walking toward the door, rapidly.

  She stopped at the door when she realized that Connor wasn't moving. The woman was clearly intelligent, so he didn't have to explain the obvious to her.

  "Crap. You haven't been assigned anything yet. I... Normally I'd tell you to get with your father, since that makes a certain sense. Kids travel with their parents. Even for us. Only... He'll be in the elite movement section. Worse, we can't really pack you into a bus filled with people. Especially under stress conditions." She grinned at him then, and relaxed, visibly. Her shoulders moved downward and there was a slow exhalation. "I'm being hit by you full out right now. Which means that your field grows under certain conditions. Ideally, we want people to run away while not being turned into zombies. I'm almost going down already and I'm over forty feet from you. Really..." Her words slowed, her body going still.

  As if he were touching her directly.

  Rather than stand there, trying to relax at the moment and figure things out like a rational human being, he started running, doing a bit of math. If he was taking people down at forty to fifty feet at the moment, it was possible that there were people over nearly a half kilometer from him that were suddenly only able to tell the truth. During a life and death crisis. That meant he needed to get away from them. Fast.

  That or calming down enough that the effects went back to normal. He was tense, so tried to let go of that, in case it would do anything at all. It didn't seem to. At least Doc Short was still stuck in the doorway, looking younger, without her official uniform jacket.

  Worse, when he got into the hallway, pressing his body past her. It was clear that people all up and down the hallway were already just standing in place. Not moving at all. Instead of getting away in their vehicles or whatever the plan was. While, for all he knew, a fresh attack was coming in.

  Jogging, he started to leave. After a moment, he just ran, as fast as he could manage, heading for the front door of the place. Which was a mistake, as it turned out. Honestly, it was two mistakes, both at the same time. First, because everyone he neared just froze, not moving at all. The second was due to a group of black clad, very well armed and armored men, who seemed to be trying to rush into the building. They weren't shooting anyone, so were possibly extra security, rather than an attack force. The problem was that he didn’t have any real way of knowing that. Their uniforms were real looking, but unmarked.

  They all froze in place as he saw them, then went still, as if they were two separate actions. Without even thinking about it, looking out of place in his blue suit and black tie, he ran toward the side gate, which was open, the men in the booth waving at him as he closed with their positions. One of them stepped out yelling.

  "Get in your exit vehicle! It's faster!"

  It really would be, except that it wasn't going to work, for the moment. Still, he managed to get much closer without the two men going totally still, which probably meant whatever he'd been doing inside the building had stopped already. On the good side, there was no sounds of shooting or screams from the people he'd abandoned dying at the hands of the new troops.

  He didn't stop, calling out.

  "My field activated. Too much. I can't ride in a car or bus right now. The driver would go down. I need to get away from here. Where... I can hide. Are there woods or..." He knew that the area had green spaces, since he could look over at the low hills and see that they were surrounded by trees and brush. Things that were heavy enough for him to survive in, even given the cool late fall they were having.

  Rather than doubting him, or pulling a weapon, which would probably force a fight at the moment, the man on the gate simply looked away, then touched his ear, and spoke. Too low for Connor to make the words out.

  After a moment, the man pointed, off to Connor's right, which was the back of the walled complex.

  "Back there. Go a mile out and don't let anyone see you, for a day. Then come back here, if you don't hear any explosions. It's not going to be a comfortable night." The man swallowed, as if that kind of thing was going to be impossible. Cold, since he couldn't afford a fire if anyone might be looking for him out there. There was no snow on the ground though, and he could survive it, even if there was. At least with the amount of clothing he had on. Not a perfect outfit for it, but close to what he’d worn a few times before in exercises.

  He didn't stop jogging though, calling out on his way past.

  "I have my orders. Twenty-four hours, then back here. If that isn't possible... Then I'll try again in a week." After that he'd need to do something else. There wasn't going to be anything to eat of note at that time of year. Not without having some kind of hunting gear. He grinned. "I didn't even pick up a pocket knife. Stupid of me."

  The man that had been talking to his upraised hand waved then. Getting him to stop.

  Then he dug in his own pocket, and tossed a small, closed, silver thing to him. It was warm when it touched his hand.

  The fellow rubbed at his face, his short hair not moving at all as mist fell on them.

  "I want that back, if at all possible. It was expensive."

  The folded blade wasn't huge, but did feel solid. Connor nodded at the idea, not letting himself get too close. He was twenty feet away, and the man didn't zombie out on him, which was a good sign that he wasn't going to be stuck, taking down anyone he was too close to for the rest of his life.

  "Understood. What's your name?"

  "Wallace. Go now. We're going to have this place cleared in ten minutes. Twenty-four and then back here, if it's saf
e. If not, then do what you said. I'll pass that on."

  Not staying to find out more, even if it was tempting, he just fled then. Not looking back. Not even wondering how Bertie had managed to lie to him about being his great-great-grandmother. That or she’d been truthful then and lied about it being a joke, later. After five minutes, he hit the tree line that had been in the distance. Then he kept going, since his thermal and I.R. profiles wouldn't vanish, just due to some bushes.

  Normally his first plan would have been to find a good camping spot. One with a stream or river nearby, if possible. Running water was generally safe enough to drink, as long as it wasn't too close to a city. Given it was falling from the sky at the moment, he was probably going to be all right that way, he had to figure. Anything that could make a water tight cup would be enough to make a collector. Not that he'd die after a single day without water.

  The trick there was that the instant you knew you didn't have water, you had to stop eating food. Setting up to hunt was a poor plan, which left foraging. Again, a day without wouldn't hurt him at all. He'd done more than that several times a year, for the last eight. That gave him two priorities. The first was a need to build distance from possible attack.

  That would probably need to be about five miles, unless whoever was coming had superior search technology. That or thousands of bodies to put out after him. In that case, he wasn't going to make it. They'd find him before the time limit was up, easily. All he could do in that case, was flee.

  As soon as he stopped for the night, he was going to need a survival shelter. One that could keep the worst of the water off of him, if possible. His suit jacket wasn't going to keep him warm, once it got soaked through.

  The trick would be to plan out how to be as invisible as possible, he decided. That kind of thing had been covered in his survival training. A lot of it had been dedicated to the idea that he might have to run away and hide out for a time. Just as was happening at the moment. He'd always figured it would be more personal, Connor had to admit. Kidnappers wanting to use him to get at ransom money. That or to kill him in revenge for something his family had done in the past.

  Really those had been the only reasons he'd ever come up with, as for why anyone would be after him, with a strong leaning toward the ransom one. At the moment it sounded a lot more like he wasn't even going to be an afterthought to anyone trying to find people from the compound. Not as someone to find in particular. The Harriman name would, no doubt, make anyone that found him probably think he was a young cook or dishwasher, if they associated him with what had taken place a few hours before at all. Jeans and t-shirt would have served him better than a suit, for that. Anyone might be out camping, or even lost in the woods. At least if they weren’t in a blue suit, with a black tie on.

  Even if he wasn't close to his Dad, the idea that the man might spend a few dollars to get him back probably wasn't all that wrong. If nothing else it would look bad in the news, if he didn't at least try to get his kid back from someone that had taken him.

  On the good side, if anyone got too close to him, he could probably get them to stop. As long as they didn't just stand back and shoot. Which meant keeping to the trees was the best plan. That gave him cover and concealment, as well as a chance to run, as long as whoever it was didn’t just bomb the area. In that case he’d be dead, of course.

  Given he was willing to die, that was fine. Not that he was giving up just yet.

  Three hours later, as night fell, he had a small shelter built up. Mainly of pine boughs over deciduous tree limbs. It was tied together at the top of the small lean-to, using his tie. That had been cut into strips, then twisted for strength. Then, almost burying himself in small pine branches, inside the little dwelling that was just big enough to look like a pile of detritus, Connor went still.

  He tried not to move too much or even breathe. Not that he feared that bugs, bears or bigfoot were going to come for him in the night. All of those things would be safe enough for him, given the time of year and the area. Bears were, interestingly, the biggest danger. If he had it right though, they wouldn't be thick on the ground. Bugs couldn't take the cold. Not that he was doing poorly that way, at the moment. His thick nest actually held the air still enough around him. Which would allow heat out, but slowly and if he'd built the thing correctly, slowly diffuse the pattern, so he wouldn't look like a man just lying there. Instead he'd seem like a deer or possibly just a warm spot on the ground. A large lump that wasn't really important.

  As far as he could tell, nothing moved in the forest that night. A few animals made a bit of noise. No Sasquatches tried to crawl in with him or take him away to be their new mate, so that part seemed to be working out for him. There was no sound of machinery or people calling out search orders.

  Which could simply mean that whoever was after him was just good, or working with tricks that he didn't know anything about. That was why he didn't even leave his little branch pile, until daylight came. Even if his bladder was threatening to rupture for the last five hours.

  He slept, of course. There was nothing else to do and he was used to doing that wherever he ended up. When he finally left the structure, he relieved himself quickly, barely able to see in the raining morning. That part, the rain, had held off through the night, thankfully. It was annoying to be wet during the day. Doing it at night was just miserable.

  After collecting his tie bits back up, making certain to scatter his nest, since it would be too easy to tell that someone had been there otherwise, he carefully jogged to keep warm. Moving from tree to tree, finding the pines and firs to prevent being picked up on satellite too easily. Or from a lower flying craft, which was far more likely. There were some of those, though, to the best of his ability to tell, they were staying closer to the castle like house in the distance. Circling it.

  Just openly flying over and around the thing. That could mean almost anything, of course.

  The day was tense. He'd slept, but was hungry and thirsty enough that he actually made a point of finding some water to drink. That was pretty much just licking dew off of some non-poisonous leaves, for the time being. Then he went back to keeping in motion.

  At what he figured was about twenty-four hours, Connor headed back. There was a large open area between the edge of the woods and the side gate that was his rally point. If anyone had remembered him at all. The low flying craft had left, so at least that part felt a bit safer to him. After watching the gate for nearly two hours, a large delivery style van drove up, and parked. Then, two men got out and stood there. Dressed in dark clothing.

  Feeling more than a little exposed, Connor left the woods, and walked, with his hands up, toward the two men who were waiting for him. They didn't draw down on him, simply waving from a distance. They didn't stop him at thirty feet or anything. The men also didn’t go down or freeze, even as he closed beyond that. Though, by that time, he could see it was Walker, the security guard that ran things and Wallace, the one that had lent him his silver pocket knife.

  Which he still had. The weight of it was comforting in his pocket. It really had helped, in making the shelter the day before.

  It was the slightly older, larger man, Walker, that spoke first, taking a few steps forward, before recalling that he couldn't really risk moving in too close.

  "You aren't injured?" That would be a mess, since no one could touch him to help, if he was. A thing that suddenly sent a thrill up his spine, when that idea hit him. If he were ever sick or hurt, he either needed to care for himself, or death would be the most likely outcome.

  It was a thing that had literally never occurred to him before. Not even when he'd had to give himself a shot, the day before. Which made him feel better, as soon as he thought about it. Sure, that didn't help if he got hurt, but he functionally shouldn’t get sick, until his immune system failed in twenty years. Not that Doc had mentioned that part clearly. She’d just told him that the nano virus hive would stop working. The rest just made sense.

&
nbsp; "I'm doing well, thank you. My field strength seems to have gone back to normal now. I think it was doing that yesterday, by the time I hit the gate here." Which would mean he was safe to ride in the truck they had there, if he tucked away in the back. Closer, if they didn’t mind sharing some of the secrets with him.

  Not that he knew the plan at all.

  Walker smiled at him. At least it seemed to be one of those. A movement of the lips that seemed cool and soulless. Connor wasn’t going to throw stones about it, since he couldn’t really do that one either. His eyes didn’t move at the corners when he grinned, even when he meant it.

  "It turns out to have been a false alarm. The reason we evacuated, not the original bio-attack. That part was real. Everything is fine here, that way, but we're still staying at other locations for the next seventy-four hours. Several of them. Mr. Harriman asked for us to come and bring you in. Actually, he suggested we send a full team for it, but Wallace here told them you had a tiny knife and a game plan. That got them to calm the fuck down after a while. Oddly enough when your father found out you were that well prepared. The man has faith in you. Which seems… Warranted, as it turns out." There was a grin from the big fellow then. "We have food and water in the truck. All in plastic, which will eventually kill us, but we can’t afford to be picky about it. Not if we want to reach the second location on schedule. Everyone else got to fly in, before you ask if they got deluxe accommodations like you’re getting. Still, we have sweets, just inside the door there."

  Connor nodded.

  "Sure you do. Come into the creepy kidnap van, little boy. We have ice cream and a fresh puppy for you to play with." His tone was a bit sarcastic, which he pulled back from at the end, even if he was tired, hungry and thirsty at the moment. Mainly due to fear of an electric shock hitting his back. Even without the harness on under his clothing. He could still feel it.