Vile Machinations

by P. S. Power

  Instead of making fun of him, or starting to bark orders, Wallace chuckled a little bit. Walker didn't, just nodding.

  The man in charge, his clothing looking fresh, compared to the wrinkled and dirt covered blue that Connor had on, actually seemed pleased.

  "No shit, right? We don't have a code word for you… If we’re not who we say we are, or have turned as part of the attack, then going with us is insane. On the other hand, it occurred to me on the ride over here that you can just ask us if we have good intentions or not." The man took four big steps forward, bringing himself about ten feet away. Wallace stood back, not doing the same thing, however.

  "I was sent to get you, by your father. As far as I know, this isn't a bad thing in any way. That could be a set up."

  Then he moved back and gestured for Wallace to do the same thing.

  "I have the same order and thoughts on things. We're headed to the charlie fallback position. There should be enough food and water in the van for a week, for all of us. We'll only be driving for about two days, though. We have fresh clothing as well. Disguises. That kind of thing. Oh, I also want my knife back." He grinned and moved away then. Not totally out of range.

  It was possible that they'd worked out a way to tell him the truth without it being the whole thing, of course. While they were men he recognized from the day before, no one had ever really explained their positions to him or anything. Still, at ten feet, they were going to be honest with him. That really did help, as far as assurances went.

  "Right. So, I just get in the back? On the floor?"

  That, the far back, had an actual seat in it, with a restraining belt in case of an accident, just inside the door. Past that was mainly open, with cardboard boxes and several large coolers lining the sides. The boxes were labeled, which was helpful. There were clothes, food and water clearly marked out.

  The two other men stopped before doing anything else and changed as well. Just into regular shirts and jeans. He got something similar, if in a smaller size. That and a heavy tan jacket that was warm, if not stylish or decorative. It seemed to be made of canvas, or a material similar to that.

  As soon as they were all dressed, their other clothing, what they’d been wearing, being packed away in a box for safe keeping, they took off, with Wallace driving for them. Walker, all the way in the front, nearly twelve feet away, called back.

  "The food isn't exactly gourmet. We do have plenty of it, so grab some if you want. Water as well. All in plastic bottles and wrappers, like I said, so try not to let that get you down. I'd like to keep the stops down to a minimum, if we can. We'll need to refuel and use the head. If you want something we don't have with us, there will be limited shopping. Don't use a credit card or debit for that. Those can be tracked. We have cash."

  Pulling one of the boxes that said water closer to him, leaning down to do it, instead of walking forward, he opened the plastic bottle up and drained it. Then did another, stopping after that, since he didn't need to be peeing every ten minutes if he could help it. Still, being dehydrated wasn't going to help him much either.

  As they drove, he sat, quietly. As he'd been trained to do for nearly a decade of his life when not required to speak and act normally. There had always been a strong division between the two times at Etain. A thing that had been strictly enforced, if with disapproval from the instructors and upperclassmen rather than physical punishment, for the most part.

  Finally moving a bit to get something to eat from one of the food boxes, Connor approached cautiously. It all looked strange to him, being filled with boxes that held some kind of sweet cakes, from the pictures. Things with bright pictures on the front to let him know what was held within and in some cases cartoon style characters. Cupcakes, Twinkies and Suzy Q-s, mainly. Also something called Honey-Buns. Those looked like breakfast rolls, which were a thing that he’d had on rare occasions at school. There were multiple large packages of the things. Instead of risking those, he moved to a box of military rations and started in on one.

  The thing wasn't good. On the great side Connor had eaten them before, a few times per year, since it really had been part of his training. They weren’t meant to be enjoyed, just good enough. It was filling though and had calories. His job at the moment was to make certain he was ready to survive. If that meant eating the cold paste like food from a well sealed package, then he would. It was already dead even, which was a step up, if not two, from some of the things he'd been required to eat, over the years.

  When he finished that treat, using the tiny moist towelette that came with it to clean his face and hands, it was time to wait again. He hadn't thought to bring anything to read, being new to living outside of the confines of his school. It was a rather clear oversight on his part. One he was trained to deal with, by reviewing the actions of the day before, in case he could glean anything from his memories of the events.

  Mainly it was about collecting data for law enforcement, so they could find the kidnappers, if at all possible. That wasn't really going to be needed this time, he didn't think. Not unless Wallace and Walker were trying to make a bit of cash on the side, suddenly.

  Having decided on that only after having talked to him, of course. Except that, at the moment, both men were still inside his field. About twelve feet away. Meaning that they could choose not to speak, but probably couldn't make themselves truly lie at the moment.

  Which could have been why they weren't talking at all. Not even to each other. Connor understood the need for operational silence in the woods, but it was a bit oppressive, riding in the far back of the truck, like he was. Isolating. Nearly as much as if he were simply locked in a tiny room for the same period of time.

  Going over the events of the biological attack meant starting in the dining room, working to figure some things out. For instance, even though he'd known at the time that both of the women with him, Bertie and Parker, couldn't really lie to him, he'd missed that it meant Parker hadn't strictly speaking been playing or flirting with him when she tried to use pheromones to strip his will away from him. So they could get married and she could worm her way into billions of dollars. Possibly something else.

  Then, later, after the attack, Doc had suggested that she was his great-great-grandmother. While standing inside of his field of effect. At a distance though, being about twenty feet away, which could mean that she’d been able to lie to him at that range. That some people could do that kind of thing was probably about right.

  Except, while playful, she'd only said it after he'd mentioned the Order. As if she were trying to distract him from that train of thought, instead of merely being a pill. It hadn't seemed that way at the time, to him, because it made sense for her to deflect away from sex with him. Regardless of what she'd said, odds were that a seventeen-year-old boy, one who she'd never be able to remember doing anything with, wasn't all that high on her list of people to entertain.

  He didn't doubt that she'd do it. It had come up too many times that she’d put out, while standing close to him. The sudden divergence into a claim that got his full attention like that had been a powerful way to get his mind off the topic he'd just been considering.

  Besides, if it was gross of him to hit on his great-great-grandmother, it was probably even worse for her to not mention that kind of thing, if it was the truth. Especially if she'd known when she'd agreed to have sex with him the first time.

  It also could have put a small crimp in any relationship they might have in the future. True, him not dating her wasn't going to make him act hurt or like she was evil, suddenly. There was a chance though that Connor might have taken offense at the supposed joke, or simply have decided that she didn't like him and refuse to be around her. He'd seen that kind of thing at school. More than once, now that he thought about the idea for a moment. It was a thing that he hadn't done, but some of his friends had, if their feelings were hurt. Going from liking someone to hating them wasn’t just possible, it was common, at least as far as he’d seen. />
  So, given everything and the tense situation at the time, it had probably been meant to do that distracting he'd been thinking of. Away from the Order, whatever that was.

  Not that he didn't have some clues. It was, he thought, the group of people that had been at his house. Working and living in the giant space. That wasn't totally normal, to the best of his knowledge. He'd had nannies when younger and house staff were a thing. That could be a lot of people for a place as big as the new castle like structure his father had purchased.

  Maybe twenty. Not a hundred and fifty or more.

  Also, while he was thinking about it, a very wealthy man might have security, and even a doctor on staff. What wasn't going to happen would be having his own mad scientist and a stone building that was designed to fight off biological attacks. They probably wouldn't have vast evacuation plans, either. Not past run outside and avoid heavy weapons fire. Oh, there would be plans for his father and possibly him or key personnel. That might be ten people, out of the hundred plus that had been there the day before.

  So, the people there, possibly up to and including the kitchen staff and security, would be at least part of this Order. If not the whole thing. No one had ever claimed that their secret society had to be large to be worthwhile.

  It was, he had to guess, a real secret though. Otherwise he would have been told about it, first thing. Even if only so he'd know which rooms not to go into, in case they had a human sacrifice or an orgy going on.

  Shaking his head a bit, he could only hope that, whatever the Order was, they weren't into that sort of thing. Human sacrifice. Connor had nothing against orgies, even if that seemed like it might well be a disease vector, if one weren't careful. Also like the type of thing he might not be invited to. Not past the first time.

  The two men up front eventually started to speak. To each other. Almost as if they'd forgotten he was there, in the back. For a moment he wondered if it had to do with the field he was putting out. Neither was a zombie at the moment, from what he could tell, so it probably wasn't that.

  Wallace, the driver of the moment made a muffled sound, like a laugh that had been half choked back.

  "Who do you think is good for this? High technology, but using a biological mechanism. Jason, maybe. Possibly one of the splinter transhuman cults?"

  The other man was the security boss, so might have more information about the whole thing. Connor eavesdropped shamelessly.

  Just in case he said anything useful. The man simply answered, after a few moments.

  "Both are good guesses. It feels wrong though. Off. Really, if you want my best guess... I think it was an inside job. One of us did it. Why, I don't know. Probably to get us out of the building. If so, that part worked. Right until the kill-bots get to them, if they try to enter the building."

  That they had robots that did that kind of work for them, killing, Connor hadn't heard before. For that matter, he reflected on the idea that he also hadn't heard that he was part of them, at all. Which would probably mean that he’d made the short list of possible suspects that might have pulled the thing off. A thing that was a bit ridiculous, but also nice. After all, it was good to be included.

  Rather than deny it, since that always just made people look guilty, he held his tongue. After all, he could, if there was a mole or plant who had betrayed them, possibly find out who they were.

  Just by meeting enough people and casually asking about it. That kind of thing seemed to be his strong suit, so far in life.

  As long as he wasn't taken out and shot for being the person who'd tried to kill them all. That might help him out, sure. It wouldn’t stop the guilty party though, leaving them open to more attacks later.

  Chapter five

  For some reason Connor had figured that the Charlie location would be an underground tunnel complex. One with heavy blast doors made of five-inch-thick steel, perhaps. That it could have been built into the side of a mountain came to mind, as far as having something secure enough to protect him from biological or nuclear attacks.

  When he got out of the truck, only the fourth time since they'd started to drive two days before, he wasn't just stiff, but baffled by what he was seeing. It was, from the look of it, a small gravel coated, packed dirt street, running behind four houses. Things that were close to each other. Behind him, there were the backs of three other homes. An alley, he supposed, having never actually seen one of those in person. There was a glimpse of paved roads off to either side at least.

  It was just turning to night as Walker waved him to move forward, closing the door of the white truck, then slapping the side of it gently, twice. That had Wallace starting the thing again, and moving off. Leaving Connor and the head guard standing behind a rather poor looking building. A garage, that seemed to need a coat of paint.

  What it had was chipping and coming off in places, which wasn't a thing that he was familiar with at all. As in, he couldn't recall having seen that kind of neglect at all in life. He'd read of it, in some works that had been given to him in school. That was all though. Mainly due to living in a world that only very wealthy people and their servants inhabited.

  His body felt stiff and even past that state. Swollen in the extremities, from lack of movement over the last two days. His neck had been left stiff from sleeping while sitting in the chair, though it didn't really hurt, thankfully. There had been enough room for them to stretch out, one person at a time, of course. Really, two men could have cuddled up and slept as well. That wasn't something that worked well in this case, since if Connor Harriman was the idiot doing it, he'd zombie out the man nearest him and the driver would be far too close not to be affected by his field. Possibly in a way that would harm his ability to drive safely.

  So, he'd slept sitting up, dozing on and off, feeling both tense and bored, for two days straight.

  No one had talked to him particularly the whole time, either. Enough to make certain he had enough food and water. They didn't bother to ask if he was comfortable, of course. A thing he understood fully.

  After all, it had to be clear that nothing they did would actually allow them to travel quickly enough, if they wanted to see to that. Stopping for a day or so, so he could stretch and go for a run and have a pleasant night in a real bed would have slowed them down. Also allowing them to be seen and noted by their enemies, at least possibly. Moving the whole time was a risk as well, if they were being tracked. It was less likely to happen if their faces weren't seen constantly. Especially his, since, in theory, someone might recognize him. At least a computer system might. No one knew who he was in the press or anything, other than as an abstract concept that his father had a child.

  Meaning he wasn't feeling all that wonderful when Walker waved for him to float forward. The large man moving smoothly, even if he'd been in the same rough conditions as Connor the whole time. Not wanting to seem out of place, or weak, he flowed forward himself, feeling clumsy. Without looking it, since that would possibly betray weakness.

  Connor could feel the ghost of his old Etain harness under his shirt. The nylon straps and battery pack heavy on his shoulders and back. It wasn’t there, since the school had no physical hold on him any longer. Only the mental portion remained. It was enough.

  Without speaking, the white garage door was pulled up. The ugly thing seemed old and like it would clank noisily. A key was needed to make it work. That and a bit of muscle, though it rose in near silence. Showing that it was well cared for inside. There was no light from the building itself. Just a black pit, showing under the half open wall as Walker ducked through. Not even waving for him to do the same. That part, he supposed, was simply expected. The kind of thing a normal person was supposed to work out for themselves, given the context of the situation.

  As soon as he ducked under the obstacle, hitting the left side of his head on the low thing, just hard enough to be painful, it was pulled down. Only then, with the space closed off, did a light come on. Showing that another man was standing ther
e, dressed in rather normal looking clothing. A t-shirt, tan slacks and work boots. The kind of man, Connor presumed, who would actually live in the house they were trying to invade. The one out front, at any rate.

  He got ready to fight, in case they were supposed to be taking it from him. A blitz attack was the best bet, for that. Almost no one was truly ready to fight off an all out application of force. Even good fighters would go down if that happened without warning, about eighty percent of the time. Before he could push his body across the space to stun the man with a barrage of fists, Walker spoke, his voice firm, but not loud at all.

  "Kelley. This is Connor Harriman. Connor, this is Ephraim Kelley. Just to enlighten you, Ephraim, Connor works with our organization. A V.I.P."

  The man at the far door, who had rather stunning blue eyes and a thin face that seemed almost haunted and gaunt, didn't smile or even nod at them in return. Instead he waved to his left, where there was a small wood working shop set up.

  Hopefully they weren't going to have to prove themselves by showing how well they could make a box or chair. Connor was going to fail if that was the case. Etain didn’t even have that kind of thing for the students to use at all. Some things were considered unimportant for their type of person. He’d learned a lot about psychology and a little about the mythologies of religion. Wood working hadn’t been mentioned, much less taught.

  A slightly raspy voice spoke at them. Seeming almost disinterested in what it was saying.

  "Under the band saw. Come and go only at night if you’re using this entrance. There are some shops in the area. Regular stuff. Groceries and clothing. No clubs or whore houses, so don't bother looking for them. If you need anything we don't have here, then suck it the fuck up." The words got a small grin to form then. Along with a direct look at Connor. "I know how it is. In the movies the spoiled rich kid is coddled and pampered, goes to the safe house to save his fucking life and then gets bored, so has to sneak out and then be rescued from being an idiot. If you do that, I'll shoot you in the knee. Your dad may need you to breed later, but that doesn't mean you can't do it with a limp. Understood?" The words were a little mean sounding.