Secrets of PEACE

by T. A. Hernandez

  Her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed, but it was hard to tell whether she was simply taken aback by the gesture or getting ready to put her guard up. “Why?” she asked.

  Jared shrugged. “Why not?”

  Zira took the box and pulled off the top. A black pocketknife lay inside, and around its handle, Jared had wrapped a necklace. Zira unwound the thin chain and held it up so the pendant dangled in front of her, a translucent, blue stone surrounded by a silver ring. She gave Jared a questioning look.

  “I bought the necklace first,” he explained. It had reminded him of her—the color of her eyes. “But anyone can buy a girl jewelry, and I knew you’d probably think it was stupid, so I got the knife, too.”

  Zira laughed and fastened the chain around her neck, then examined the knife. She pulled out the blade and turned it in her hands. “Well, I do like this better,” she said. “But the necklace is nice, too—even if it is a little cliché. Thank you.”

  She leaned forward to kiss him, and the thought struck him then that he loved her.

  The idea felt comfortable, relieving, and a part of him wanted to shout it out loud for all the world to hear. But he doubted Zira was ready to hear it yet, especially after her insistence that they take things slow and not assume any labels. She wasn’t the kind of girl who formed attachments easily, and saying the words would only complicate things if she didn’t feel the same way.

  So instead of saying it, Jared pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her deeply, trying to say with silent lips what his voice could not. I love you, Zira.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After an eight hour flight and accounting for the time difference, Zira arrived in Anchorage just past noon. She collected her bags and reluctantly walked outside; the late October air was frigid here compared to the warm southern climate she’d just come from. She stuffed her hands deep inside the pockets of her coat and stood on an icy sidewalk to wait for the man who was supposed to pick her up.

  The man was an informant, and though Zira hadn’t been given his name, meeting him would be a rare opportunity. Operatives almost never interacted with the men and women in the outside world who gathered the intel for their assignments. Their true identities were a closely guarded secret, but it was widely known among the members of E-2 that some of them were former operatives themselves, either too old or injured to carry out the physical demands of that work anymore. They were still able to assist their unit in other capacities, however. They gathered information about potential threats and passed it on to Chairman Ryku. In some cases—like this one—an informant might transport an operative through unfamiliar territory or provide weapons and other materials they might need.

  After a few minutes, a middle-aged man with a dark ponytail and weathered, russet-brown skin approached her. “Zira?”

  She nodded and they scanned each other’s CLs for identity confirmation. “Come with me please,” he said.

  As she followed him across the street, Zira noticed that he walked with a slight limp and held his left arm at an awkward angle. She wondered if he’d been crippled while serving the Project and hoped she would never share a similar fate, incapable of carrying out her own assignments and forced to become little more than a courier. Informants were a necessary and vital part of unit E-2’s work, but no one wanted to be relegated to such a position. The compound was home, and even the thought of being forced outside its walls left a bitter taste in the back of Zira’s throat.

  The man stopped in front of a white car and opened the back door, motioning for Zira to get in. He got in the front and punched a location into the navigation system. Once they were on the main road, he turned back to her. “I’m taking you to an old vacation lodge not far from where the radical group is hiding. Everything you need should be there, but we’ll go over it together when we arrive. Under no circumstances are you to leave the lodge grounds except to do surveillance and complete your assignment. There’s a small town nearby, and the people there tend to be overly curious about newcomers and strangers. They can’t know you’re here.”

  Zira nodded. “I understand.”

  He scowled and looked out the window, muttering under his breath. “Sending a little girl all the way out here on such a dangerous mission—I hope Ryku knows what he’s doing.”

  Zira smirked, but said nothing. Let him think what he wanted to. She’d learned to take advantage of the way people underestimated her.

  They drove for an hour through a landscape of ice, snow, and trees until they finally reached the lodge Zira would be staying at. A large log-style cabin stood nestled among frosted pine trees. The snow had drifted in perfect slopes at the base of the cabin. As the car rolled to a stop, Zira spotted a moose wandering lazily back into the woods. It was a beautiful scene. She could understand why people might have liked to take vacations here before the war had ruined any opportunity there might be for such frivolities.

  Zira took her bags and followed the informant to the cabin. It wasn’t much warmer inside than it had been standing in the snow. “No electricity, no heat,” the man said as he led her to a spacious kitchen, where a week’s worth of food sat on the table. “Your room has a fireplace. You can get wood from the shed out back. There’s some more food in the fridge—should be enough to last while you’re here.”

  They went up some stairs to a long hall lined with doors. The informant opened the nearest one, which had a fireplace as promised. A mattress took up most of the floor space and a tall safe stood in the far corner. The informant showed her the code to unlock it and they went through its contents together. There was a long knife much like the one Zira usually carried on assignments, several smaller knives and daggers for her to choose from, a semi-automatic rifle, and a few pistols of various calibers. There were also suppressors, extra magazines, ammunition, and a small drone similar to the one she and Jared had used on their last assignment. It was more than she could ever see herself using, but she was glad to have so many options.

  She nodded her approval and the man closed the safe. “Do you need anything else?” he asked.

  “No, everything looks fine. Thank you.”

  He started towards the door. “I’ll be back for you in two weeks. If you’re not here, I’ll return a week later. After that, you’ll have to find your own way back to the compound. I’ll remove anything you’ve left here and dispose of it.”

  “I’ll be here,” Zira assured him.

  He gave her a curt nod and limped back to his car. She watched him go through the window, and as the car disappeared around a bend, it struck Zira that she had never been so completely alone and far from home in her entire life.

  * * *

  Zira’s assignment file on the radicals had been dismally empty, so she planned on spending at least a week doing surveillance. She might not learn anything new, but she wasn’t about to let herself botch another assignment. If she’d learned anything from Jared in their short time as partners, it was to do her research, play it safe, and consider every option before taking action.

  The trio of radicals was holed up in an old resort similar to the one Zira was in now just a few miles through the trees. It was comprised of several smaller cabins rather than just one big lodge, surrounded by an equally stunning landscape of tall trees and pure white snow against a mountain backdrop. According to Zira’s map, a road ran right through the resort, though it hadn’t been used in so long that she couldn’t even see it under the snow. It wound down through the hills to a small town called Grayridge, then joined a major highway back to Anchorage about twenty miles out. Zira worked out how to follow the road to that highway in case she needed to get back to the compound on her own, though she doubted that would be necessary.

  For the next several days, she familiarized herself with the area so she’d be able to navigate with confidence when the time came to carry out the assignment. The hills where the resort sat were rugged and heavily wooded, providing excellent cover but also
making it a little difficult to move quickly and quietly. Once she felt sufficiently comfortable with the surrounding area, it was time to move in and survey the cabin itself and the occupants within. Using the drone and the scope of the sniper rifle from the weapons safe, she watched from a secluded hiding place beyond the tree line.

  There wasn’t much to see. The windows had all been boarded up, and the radicals never went outside unless it was to gather more wood for their fire. Whatever food they needed, they must have stockpiled inside already. They kept three old snowmobiles under some fallen branches just inside the tree line, though Zira never observed them using the vehicles. Each day, she saw all three of the individuals from her file as they took turns gathering and chopping more wood. There was a burly man with a thick brown beard and pale skin. There was also a stocky brunette woman who looked so similar to the man that Zira wouldn’t have been surprised if they were siblings. The third radical was a younger woman with olive skin and curly black hair. They all took turns carrying the same bolt-action hunting rifle whenever they went outside.

  Zira watched the cabin for days, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. She never went beyond the shelter of the tree line to avoid leaving visible footprints, and if the group suspected they were being watched or were concerned that they might be attacked, they showed no sign of it. A few days before the informant was scheduled to pick her up, Zira decided to make her move.

  As soon as night fell, she donned her usual set of black clothes and bulletproof jacket, then picked a few items out of the safe. She took a set of lock-picking tools, the long knife, and two handguns with suppressors and extra magazines. At the last minute, she slipped both the necklace and pocketknife Jared had given her inside her jacket. She could justify carrying the pocketknife for its usefulness, but she was bringing the necklace along for pure sentimentality and mentally kicked herself for it. She hated to admit how much she’d missed Jared since coming here. If they were still partners, he’d be here offering her some last-minute encouragement before the mission. She missed Aubreigh, too. She missed everyone. She wasn’t particularly fond of people in general and relished some time on her own, but being so totally isolated in this cold, deserted landscape with just her own thoughts to keep her company had gotten old after the first week. It was almost over though, and soon enough she’d be back at home, laughing with Jared and fending off Aubreigh’s incessant questions about the new developments in her romantic life.

  Zira walked to the cabin after midnight, camouflaged by the darkness. The sky was overcast, but what little light there was reflected off the snow and offered adequate visibility once her eyes adjusted. She hid in the same shadowed trees she’d used to watch the cabin over the last week, looking for signs of movement. All was still except for the steady stream of smoke that floated from the chimney. She made her way to the cabin’s front door, leaving deep gouges in the snow behind her. It didn’t matter; in just a few more minutes, no one would be around to notice. More snow and wind would erase the tracks from existence soon enough.

  She tried the door with a gentle hand. Locked, as expected. It was an old building though, and the lock was one of the basic pre-war kind that would be simple enough to pick. Zira knelt in front of the door and got to work.

  She slid the pick and tension wrench into place and began feeling for the pins. One at a time, she lifted them carefully. As the last one gave under the pressure, Zira twisted the knob and darted inside. She shut the door behind her before a draft of cold air could follow.

  The light from the low fire against the wall cast a warm, orange glow around the cabin. Zira raised her pistol and glanced around the room quickly. Three piles of blankets lay in front of the fireplace. She thought she could see the tops of two of her targets’ heads underneath two of the piles. The last target, she assumed, was buried beneath the third heap.

  She approached the blankets at a slow, deliberate pace, testing the weight of each step to ensure the wood floor wouldn’t creak under her. Reaching the nearest one, she bent to get a closer look. She squinted, sure she wasn’t seeing the person correctly. Short-cropped hair. Blond hair.

  None of her targets had blond hair.

  In the same instant that she realized there might be another person in the cabin, she heard a creak behind her. She whirled around and fired two shots at the shadowy figure taking cover behind a wall. In her panic, her aim went wide. The bearded man shot back. His bullet ripped through Zira’s right leg, and she cried out as searing pain radiated throughout the entire limb.

  The man was on her before she could fire another shot. He threw her on the floor and ripped the gun from her grasp. Zira fought to take it back, but the man flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head. He yanked her other gun from its holster around her leg and slammed it into the side of her skull. Zira’s vision shattered in a thousand painful colors.

  More voices joined the chaos, but the man’s drowned them all out as he screamed at Zira. “Who are you?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he struck her again, this time in the side. She gasped for air. “Get off of her!” someone else shouted. A different man. The blond man. The man who wasn’t even supposed to be here. He tackled the bearded one to the floor. “She’s just a kid.”

  Zira rolled onto her back and looked around. If she could just find her gun—

  Ah, there it was, staring her right in the face as the curly-haired woman aimed it at her head. “Alma, don’t!” said the blond man, scrambling back over to Zira.

  “Just making sure she doesn’t try anything stupid,” said Alma.

  Zira heard a whimper and turned toward the source of the noise. Two young children, a boy and a girl, stood in the doorway. Her third target, the brunette woman, stood behind them. Their wide eyes and gaping mouths were frozen in surprised terror. Zira’s file had said nothing about children, either. This was all wrong.

  “Liza—get the kids out of here,” said the blond man. The woman, snapping to her senses, quickly ushered the children away.

  Zira closed her eyes and squirmed, overwhelmed by the pain in her leg. She had been so careful. There should have only been three people in the cabin. This was all a big mistake, but how could she have known?

  The blond man turned to Alma. “Get that thing off her wrist, then go get the first aid kit.” Alma complied, using Zira’s own knife to cut through the thick plastic of her CyberLink. A quick glance around the room revealed that none of them seemed to be wearing one.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tripp?” asked the bearded man.

  “Trying to keep her from bleeding out.” He clasped his hands over the hole in Zira’s leg in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood that seeped through her pants and pooled on the floor beneath her. The bone shifted under the pressure, and Zira bit back a scream.

  “She was going to kill all of us!”

  “She was just following orders. She doesn’t know any better.”

  “Nate?” Liza came back into the room and stood beside the bearded man. Zira was sure they were siblings now; even with her vision blurring at the edges, she could see that they shared the same aquiline nose and deep-set eyes. “What happened?”

  “This murdering Project coward slunk in here to kill all of us in our sleep, and now Tripp wants to save her worthless life.”

  “I could use a hand here,” said Tripp.

  Alma knelt down beside him and opened a big plastic box. “Got it.”

  “Get me as much gauze as you can. And bandages.”

  “Are you two insane?” Liza’s voice was shrill. “She was going to hurt my kids!”

  If she’d had the strength to do so, Zira might have rolled her eyes. She would never harm an innocent child. If she’d known there were children inside, she wouldn’t even be here right now. She would have contacted Ryku to ask him how he wanted her to proceed; he probably hadn’t known about the children, either. This entire assignment had been doomed to fail bef
ore she even got here.

  “Look at her,” said Tripp. “She’s barely more than a kid herself. We kill her and we’re just as bad as them.”

  “Well we can’t keep her alive,” said Nate. “They’ll come looking for her.”

  “They’ll come looking for her either way,” said Alma. “And us. They knew we were here—that’s why she came. We can’t stay.”

  Zira couldn’t see her leg; she was having a hard enough time staying conscious as it was and didn’t dare look. All she saw were Tripp’s bloody hands flying back and forth to take gauze pads from Alma as fast as she could unwrap them. “We need to get her to Mei,” Tripp said. “We all need to get to Mei’s. We can hide out there until we have a chance to get to a new safe house.”

  Nate cursed. “You want to drag Mei into this?”

  “No, but we don’t have a choice.”

  “We should leave her. We go to Mei’s, but we leave her here. Let her bleed out and die for all I care.”

  “What if she doesn’t die?” Liza hissed. “She’ll tell the Project what happened and where we went.”

  “She’s not dying,” Tripp said. He looked into Zira’s eyes as he said it, like it was supposed to be some kind of reassurance. She wasn’t comforted. She was wounded and surrounded by strangers. Two of them wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her if Tripp wasn’t around to stop them, and she had no idea what his motives were for doing that. She’d failed her assignment and had no way to contact anyone at the compound. Her chances of even making it back there at all seemed to be shrinking by the second. She felt as far from reassured as a person could possibly get.

  “We could blow the place up,” Alma said. “We still have some of those explosives from the old Medvale factory.”

  Tripp considered this as he wrapped a thick bandage around Zira’s leg. He nodded. “Let’s do it. If we’re lucky, the Project will assume we died in the explosion. If we throw her CL in, they might think she’s dead, too. We’ll take her to Mei’s and hold her there until we can move somewhere else. By the time she makes contact with the compound, we’ll be long gone.”