Skin Trials

by S Y Humphrey

  Seren felt NG’s body stiffen underneath the blankets. He ends them down, slowly.

  “Actually, were headed into Mississippi to take her to her family there,” N.G. said. As the words came out, he drew his gun from his boots. Serena’s eyes widened. “Actually, Sir, we thank you. But could you let us out? We will be at that meeting in Atlanta.”

  “Afraid I can’t do that. Far too many search teams on the lookout for you there. I promised the Anthistemi I would get you folks to Florida.”

  As the man drove the boat and took a swig from a flask, N.G. shoved the blanket the rest of the way down. Then he rose to a sitting position while the man’s back was still turned. Quickly but quietly, N.G. aimed his gun. His finger squeezed, and pulled the trigger. The man’s back arched, and he reached for his radio. N.G. squeezed again, and the next bullet entered the man’s head. He turned to pull Seren up.

  “He wasn’t one of us,” NG said getting up to take over the driving of the boat.

  “But how did you know?”

  “Nobody who helps the Antistemi ever asks what the game plan is while making a delivery. He should have known.” He shook his head. "Apparently, your father was able to get one of our guys, and turn him.”

  “You don’t know that. It could have been my father. It could have been one of those Tier Twos a few nights ago. You trust too many people.”

  “We’ve got to get off this boat. I’ll tell my people to get us another option,” NG said, raising his closed-network phone to his lips. Before he could utter a word into the CNP, Seren stopped him.

  “I wouldn’t do that. Not until you find out which one of your people might have tipped this guy off.”

  Still far away, they could see a boat approaching.

  “If I don’t inform Max, my people will be waiting in Florida and get caught. I don’t think he’s responsible for this. Maybe one of the Tier Twos. But not Max. Your father murdered his. He’s dreamt of this moment for years, like I have. I can’t leave him exposed like that.”

  He held up his clink to his mouth. “Max, sidebar. Just you.” They waited a few seconds before Max confirmed he was alone. “Abort Florida. I repeat, abort Florida.”

  “Copy that. What’s happening?” came the response from the other end.

  “We had a dirty guy— the Coast Guard. Get us another route.”

  Max went offline, and then came back and gave them a couple of options. “Right where you are. Swim to shore while police aren’t looking. Lots of people to camouflage you. But far more VScans in the city. If there are problems, gangs will cover on your way to the Gulf. But if fighting breaks out, you draw attention, and they know where you’re headed.”

  “Second option?”

  “Sapelo Island. Remote and marshy. Hard for machines and vehicles to cross. Gullahs know all the traps and pathways. They’ll boat you down the coastline, and then Cubans will fly you to the Gulf.”

  “But the Island is wide open. Not too many hideouts, so they can find us by satellite or drones.”

  “Exactly. This will get nasty any way you look at it. You cover more distance riding further down the coast.”

  “But we will get the people of Sapelo Island in trouble once satellites show them helping us,” NG concluded.

  Seren watched NG think it through, weighing his own protection against the safety of the communities helping him.

  “The people are ready to fight for themselves if it comes to that, Jonah,” Max said from the other end, another person who knew him well enough to call him by his birth name. “You can’t protect them from it forever.”

  N.G. lifted the clink to his lips like it weighed a ton. “Okay. And Dr. Terry’s status?”

  “I don’t think they’ll have him in Atlanta. We’ve got eyes on Angola. Didn’t see anybody pick him up. You’ve still got twelve hours. We’ll stand them up in Atlanta, and send decoys, while you get to the Gulf. Time to create the distraction,” Max reported from the other end.

  NG then raised the clink to his lips again. “Pike?”

  “Yeah?” Pike replied, his voice drastically weaker now. They heard someone grab the clink from him.

  “N.G., this kid needs blood now!” Gloria, the busty waitress, snapped in frustration.

  “Check into the hospital,” N.G. instructed.

  A few minutes later, the dead officer’s cell phone vibrated next to him. N.G. picked it up and looked at it. Incoming text messages.

  Reports say Seren Jern just checked into hosp n South Carolina. You got girl, right?

  N.G. picked up the dead man's phone and texted back to the other end. No. Mistake. Not her. Still searching.

  They watched the boat that approached in the distance veer off. On the shore, they saw some of the officers move back, being reassigned to other areas with news Seren was somewhere else. Pike had given them the diversion they needed, even if it spared them just a few more minutes.

  N.G. tossed her a quick look. “Good idea… using Pike’s hospital check-in to throw them off.”

  “We don’t have much time before they learn he’s not me,” Seren said, looking down at the dead man’s cell phone. “Grab that. Search it later. Let’s see if my father turned him. Or one of your Tier Twos.”

  He gave her another impressed look. “Careful now, you might be rebel material.”

  His face gleamed under the rising morning sun, the color of maple wood, intense and taut, while he figured out the control levers on the boat’s dashboard. They saw a small fishing boat waiting for them ahead, driven by a small old black woman in a straw hat sitting in it. She raised her hand.

  “Morning, good folks. Don’t got much time,” she greeted them, between chews of something in her jaw. She motioned at the dead body in their Coast Guard boat. “I see he won’t bother us none. We best be getting on.”

  While exiting the Coast Guard boat, they heard its incoming radio transmissions: "Man using name Seren Jernigan has scanned into Holy Faith Hospital of South Carolina. I repeat: someone checked into the hospital with the VScan credentials of our subject."

  They crossed over into the woman’s faded blue metal fishing boat. Throwing up a tarp and fishing nets unveiled two sawed off shotguns, a flame-thrower, and a skinny teenage black boy. They lay down next to him as the woman turned on the motor and they began to ride away, toward the island’s maze of meandering land and water strips. They left the Coast Guard boat abandoned in the ocean.

  Seren turned to N.G. “Why do people call you NG? What does that stand for?”

  “Citizen,” Seren heard a familiar tone of an automated, robotic voice, from a speaker over their heads in the sky. “Stop that boat. We have reason to believe you have committed a crime.” Seren’s heart fluttered. It was the welcome automation of a Guardian.

  “Hold on, people. This ride’s going to get bumpy,” the old woman said.

  Underneath the tarp, NG pulled out the gun again, cradling it against his chest. “It stands for Not Guilty.”

  15

  Suns, Rise

  Seren hid underneath the tarp, as she heard the sound of a machine overhead proceeding to follow them. The skinny teenager next to them peaked from underneath the cloth, aiming one of the sawed-off shotguns right over the edge of the boat. NG joined him, peeping out as well with his gun. The water splashed around them and the boat sped onward.

  “Don’t shoot them,” Seren advised. “They shoot back.”

  “Citizen, I repeat, halt your activity. You are now under arrest for evading a peace officer.” Seren overheard the sound of the flying SkyPad with the Guardian atop it, along with the enlivening police siren. The boat twisted and turned in the shallow waters.

  “Citizen! The next step shall be justified use of force. Halt your activity,” the Guardian warned.

  “What are those things, grandma?” The boy asked, aiming his gun.

  “They’re called Guardians,” Seren answered.

  “We prepared for this,” NG said. “The fishnets. Grab them.�
�

  NG and the boy rose from underneath the tarp, while the woman continued to drive. The Guardian hovered only a few yards behind them now, following in pursuit. Silvery and smooth, its tough carbon fiber and black steel exterior was thinly shaped into lithe ligaments that somewhat resembled a high-tech skeleton wearing a slender helmet. It floated atop a more sophisticated SkyPad consisting of two skis that clicked together and formed what looked like water skis. NG waited until the machine hovered so close in the air that it nearly touched the boat, before they sprang up, tossing the fishnet over the machine. They held onto one side of the net, and the other side hooked onto one of the Guardian’s appendages. The men were able to give a hard yank, pulling it down into the green long grass, and then dragging it along the watery marsh.

  “Citizen, you have now used force, and force shall be returned,” the Guardian’s automated voice admonished, even as it was dragged through the long-grass.

  The old woman drove the boat so it twisted and swerved, entangling the machine and the net with the weeds. She continued to speed, and the weeds entered its crevices until the Guardian fought against net and long grass. They let the net go, and left the Guardian behind, as it aimed and shot into the air. As it went down, more Guardians appeared.

  Approximately ten approached them from different directions. At the same time, a helicopter emerged overhead in the sky.

  “Lawbreakers, this is the American Bureau of Investigation here. Halt your activity, or you force us to use severe counter-measures. This is your only warning,” came the voice from the helicopter.

  Right then, from inside the high spartina grass, Seren watched bodies rise from hiding. Bodies of all ages sprang up, of every race, standing half-submerged in the grassy water and wearing thick, rubbery coveralls. Some of them aimed their guns upward at the helicopter. Others carried fishnets, which they then began to toss in the air expertly, encircling the flying Guardians. The civilian fighters then worked together to yank downward. Guardians swerved, and began shooting. Some of the machines submerged into the marsh and high grass, becoming entangled. Four machines remained that swerved, and continued pursuing the little speeding boat through the marshy maze.

  Other bodies rose from the high grass, carrying nets and bed cloths, tossing them up while aiming for the Guardians, and working three or four at a time to bring the machines down. The Guardians fired off shots, and Seren heard screams and yelps as bodies fell, splashing against the watery high grass.

  “Were almost at the mainland, folks!” the old woman shouted.

  But even as she said it, more Guardians flew from the sky, descending on the area, coming toward them and raining gunfire onto the people standing in the high grass. More bodies splashed into the water. Seren heard the smack of bullets entering rubber coveralls, mixed with cries of pain. Seren could see shooters emerged from the helicopter ahead.

  “NG! The helicopter! Shooters!” Seren said.

  Right then, Seren watched or torpedo leave from the grass and shoot upward toward the sky, striking the helicopter’s side, and putting a hole in it. Black smoke began to emerge from underneath. Another torpedo flew up from the grass, and striking the helicopter causing it to spin around. Shots still flew out everywhere as it spun. Bodies continue to fall. Including the old woman’s. Her head hit the wooden board inside with a thud. The boat meandered, and while NG and the boy continued shooting at Guardians, and giving the people in the field cover, Seren jumped toward the steering wheel. Only about fifty more yards remaining until they reached what looked like solid land. She didn’t know how to cut across the many zigzagging strips of water locked in by equally puzzling strips of land. Gazing past the bodies that still hid or stood, she tried to calculate the best path through the land and water maze, even as she drove. The helicopter finally went down, causing a large explosion in the distance. More and more Guardians descended, and more bullets smacked into rubbery coveralls as bodies were shot. Seren desperately drove a path of shallow water that looked promising to reach mainland.

  “Seren Jernigan!” The automated voice spoke from a distance. “Seren Jernigan, please exit the vehicle, and make your way to safety.” It sounded like one of her father’s unmanned military drones had arrived.

  She ignored it. Steering the boat through more twists of water, she drove past dying people, pushing forward and closing the distance. Bullets struck the insides and outside of the boat. The teenage boy and NG had smartly covered themselves with scrap metal, as did some of the people still alive in the field. Only about twenty more yards remained. But suddenly, the boat ran into a surprise lock of land Seren had not anticipated in the maze, and thrust onto high grass. The boat’s speed was cut short, and they were flung from it, into the grass and water. They would have to run the rest of the way to land, where Seren saw rebel trucks awaiting them on the shore, from which hung rebel militia wearing space-age fatigues, and more civilians. Right then, the throngs of rebels shot past them, at their pursuers and giving cover to Seren, NG and the boy, against oncoming Guardians and drones.

  “Go!” NG yelled. We’re right behind you.” But the teenage boy was hit in the chest as soon as he rose from underneath the metal sheet that landed on top of him. He rubbed his chest and kept moving. He had been wearing a bulletproof vest.

  Seren jumped through the water at rising to her knees, amid the soggy spartina grass that rose over her head, thankful now for the diving suit she wore.

  “Seren Jernigan! Make your way to safety,” she heard again from one of the drones. Even as she ignored it, she dodged and ran, watching bodies fall around her. She heard the crash of machines, exploding against grass and catapulting water.

  A Guardian arrived at her side, and the machine reached out its arm toward her. “Miss Jernigan, take my hand, and we will escort you to safety.”

  Someone jumped up from the field and tossed a fishnet over it before yanking down hard. Seren kept running, unsure of where NG was now. She ran toward the civilians and space-age fighters on land, who reached out their arms to grab her from the marsh. Two of them fell. Suddenly, Seren was hit from behind by something. Sharp knives crushed into her leg and nearly flattened it. A trap of some kind clamped down into her calf, before she was lifted into the air. Seren turned to look behind her, finding a rough, scaly reptilian snout extending up her leg. An alligator snapped her whole body into the air.

  Her leg in its grip up to her knee, she gasped at its monstery ugliness. Then her hand shot out as it started to roll under. She managed to snatch as eye. Digging her hand into his socket it made an awful moaning yelp, as she snatched out the I, while its head rolled underwater. Its mouth open, and paying and she jerked her leg away. As it turned over again, she splashed away with her left leg, and hands pulled her onto more solid land. As the hands gripped her and pulled Seren’s body further inland, she saw bullets going to the alligator as it retreated, warms more Guardians descended upon the little island. The sky appeared to have a flock of locusts spraying out of it, as machined police headed toward them.

  Seren was pulled backward. She searched for NG and did not see him. Still being pulled, she looked behind her to see several trucks with the doors open, and several vehicles. Rebel fighters dragged her between the vehicles, and past them. Seren tried to stand up, as rebel militias wearing space-age brown suits helped her. A large group formed around them facing outward to shoot at the Guardians and drones in the distance. In a large huddle, they moved together away from the marsh and ocean.

  “Can you walk?” She heard a Keeper rebel’s young voice ask her. “Try to stand up and run!” the sure-footed female insisted.

  Right next to Seren’s head, trees lit up in the sky, firing ablaze. Expertly, the young woman was able to take down three Guardians and still drag Seren. She used a smooth carbon fiber weapon having no trigger that Seren had never seen. Explosions in the water deafened them. Stepping down on her right leg sent fire through the bottom half of her. No bone jutted out or broke her flesh,
but she must have had a fracture or tissue rupture. Since she could hop, other Keeper rebels half-lifted her, half-dragged Seren beyond the vehicles, through flaming trees and lots of bushes and shrubbery that led into a clearing of people’s yards. Old, rusted vehicles, dilapidated little swamp houses and humble vegetable patches surrounded them as they ran. Seren was dragged into many bushes, before being shoved downward into a long, narrow, vertical tunnel of dirt that must have extended six feet underground. Overhead, she could hear items being blown to pieces, and the screams of torture and death. She heard the vehicles and trucks above take off, driving in different directions along the ground inches over her head.

  The female Keeper fighter said to Seren, “You will be safe here until the fighting subsides and the Cubans come to fly you out.”

  “The Guardians will be able to see there’s a hollow space under the ground, as well as the heat of a body in it. My father has special technology,” Seren started to explain.

  “The Keepers outfitted these walls during their planning to ensure the hole was undetectable,” the young woman stated. She sounded just as young as Seren.

  “Where are you from?” Seren asked, her fascination now matching her terror. “How are you fighting for the Keepers? Where did you train? How did you know what to do?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I have an oath of secrecy and loyalty. Cannot disclose that information. Let me patch you up real quick. It doesn’t look like the alligator did much damage. You were smart to go for the eye, one of the few vulnerable spots on the creature. You move pretty impressively for a spoiled rich girl.” The girl pulled a first aid kit from a storage container and began cutting away Seren’s military fatigues she had been given, and then cutting off the bottom of her wetsuit. The Keeper then poured peroxide and other solutions onto Seren’s leg. She wiped it off the blood, and checked the puncture wounds where they saw bite marks. “Looks like you’ve got some pretty bad swelling here, possibly tissue damage to your calf or a fracture that you’ll need repair surgery for later. You go too long without treatment, may get infected. You got pretty lucky, like I said before, quick thinking before he was able to start his death roll and tear your leg off.”