Edge of Darkness

by Vikki Romano

  Watching the commotion sickened Sierra, lodged dread deep in her gut. What if he didn’t pull out of this thing he was in? What if it killed him?

  Letting out a shaky breath, she stood and wandered around his room. She had never been in there before, never had a reason to be, and this was the worst reason of all.

  It was neat. Not OCD neat, but neat for a guy. There were some clothes thrown onto a chair in the corner and his nightstand was a mess, but it was generally orderly.

  She realized as she poked around that there weren’t any pictures. No memorabilia from his past. Nothing, except one small photo taped to the wall next to his bed. It was the two of them standing at a bar, laughing. She remembered that night. It was their boss’s fiftieth birthday. She realized as she turned away that she was smiling. He always found a way to make her smile.

  He had joined the precinct three years earlier, and after a few months they were thrown together. She had been burning through partners, chastised for being too abrasive, and it got to the point where no one wanted to be teamed with her. Not that the other agents didn’t trust her; they just couldn’t deal with her attitude.

  McKenna was a new hire and a last resort. He was her last chance.

  They got along immediately. He didn’t treat her like a helpless female and they understood one another. Calder was a smart guy, and he valued her opinion and often asked for her advice about work-related issues. It was a new twist for her and not something she expected from a guy that looked like he did. And man, was he a looker. Tall, muscular, and distracting in the worst kind of way.

  And there was something intriguing about him. Something that always kept her attention from the start. He came off brooding, pensive, but in the next moment would be the life of the party, cracking jokes, making her smile so easily. He was, for all intents and purposes, an enigma. And it was annoying as hell.

  “We need to get him to the shop.” Cooper’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “The diagnostics are inconclusive. I’d need to use the other equipment to get a better read.”

  “Do what you need to do,” she said, handing him the data stick. “I’ll grab him a change of clothes and follow you down. We don’t need to be back on the clock for another seventy-two hours, so we have some time yet.”

  “OK, we’ll wrap him up and get him down there.”

  She nodded and watched as they shifted him onto the gurney, his large body looking so awkward and helpless. After strapping him down, Cooper engaged the board and it hovered off the ground at waist level. She brushed the dark hair off Calder’s forehead as they passed by. It was an unconscious action, and she pulled her hand away when Steven looked up at her. She really needed to stop doing that.

  Despondent, she wandered around his room for what seemed like an hour, cleaning, putting his things away, nervously tidying his life. Her mind was blank, but full of a thousand scattered thoughts and fears.

  They both faced death on a daily basis, it was part of their job, but she never thought they’d be separated. She thought they’d die together if they ever went at all. What did he always say? I’ll go out with my hair on fire, pissing on the devil’s head. It was his way.

  She pulled a shirt and a pair of jeans from a shelf in the closet. Instinctively, she held them up to her face, inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes as Calder’s scent soothed her. He had a distinct scent. One she couldn’t pinpoint. Like a mix of soap clean and engine-oil dirty, with a hint of expensive coffee. Sighing, she closed the closet, then headed out into the living room.

  She thought to grab his jacket, but remembered he was still wearing it. He never went anywhere without it.

  And then it dawned on her. His jacket could conceal a whole slew of weapons, and she was sure he had geared up if he was heading out to the range to meet her.

  Dropping his clothes on the couch, she tapped her ear and raced out of the apartment as she waited for Cooper to answer.

  But he didn’t. No one did.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The buzzing in his head was excruciating, like giant bugs chewing through his skull. He wanted to wrap his head in a pillow, insulate himself from the pain, but he realized rather quickly that he wasn’t going to be doing anything.

  His arms and legs were strapped down to whatever he was lying on. The bindings were tight and strong. Struggling against them proved futile. Squinting against the bright light, he saw shadows, figures moving around him.

  Then the panic set in. Was he in the hospital?

  The more he panicked, the more delirious he felt. Flashes of bright lights, sparks in his vision made him nearly black out.

  What the hell was going on?

  Voices around him sounded muffled. He tried to concentrate, tried to figure out who these people were, what they wanted from him, but the voices only got louder, distorted beyond recognition. And again, the pain.

  The backs of his eyes ached. He squeezed them shut in a futile attempt to relieve the throbbing, but it got worse. And the straps were getting tighter, cutting into his arms and legs. He could feel his pulse in his face, racing, skipping beats.

  Sweat trickled down his temple and into his ears. And just as suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, it all stopped.

  The pain, the sparks, the panic.

  Gone.

  Calder opened his eyes and watched the men as they moved around him with med scanners and pads. The shorter one came over to him, close to his face, and spoke.

  “You OK?” he asked, intermittently checking his pad, tapping it with his finger.

  Calder didn’t respond, didn’t know how. What do you say to someone when your brain just went through an electrical storm that just shut off?

  The man looked up from his pad again, leaned down close to him, tucked his pad under his arm, and lifted one of Calder’s eyelids.

  Calder jerked his head away and scowled.

  “OK, then,” the man said. “Do you know your name? What day it is?”

  Calder continued to glare. He could hear the man’s words, but didn’t recognize any of what he was saying. Everything was muffled.

  The guy went for his eyelid again and, without thought, Calder reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

  Realizing what he’d done, Calder looked down and saw the strap dangling off the side of the table, shredded. The man in his grip flailed. Calder was about to snap his neck when the other man jumped into the fray. He tried to pry his fingers away while slapping some type of metal cuff on his wrist.

  Calder let out a roar, incensed beyond reproach.

  “Let me out of this!” His voice came out low and primal.

  The short man broke away from him with a look of horror etched on his face. He slowly turned to face his worktable and fumbled through all the items there.

  There was a small silver gun in his hand when he turned back. A delicate thing that didn’t look like it could hurt a fly. Without a word, he came toward Calder and held it against his neck.

  As if a stream of cool water cascaded over him, the pain and tension washed through him and seemed to drain into the floor. The intensity softened and his entire body relaxed. His mind now numb.

  The man lifted his eyelid again. This time, he didn’t bother to react to it.

  “That’s better,” the man said. “Now, tell me what your name is.”

  Calder opened his eyes and stared at the man, taking in every feature of his face. Every crease, every wrinkle, every flaw. It was so clear, as if he were looking at his skin under a microscope.

  “Why do you want to know my name?” His voice came out as a croak.

  “I already know your name. I just want to see if you do.”

  “Why wouldn’t I know my own name?”

  “For many reasons--amnesia, for one. You’ve been through some serious trauma today and I just want to make sure you’re OK, that’s all.”

  “Sounds fair,” Calder said.

  “So w
hat’s your name?”

  Calder chuckled and was about to tell him, when he realized… he didn’t know.

  He didn’t know his own name?

  That’s absurd! It’s… What the fuck is it? Panic. It started again. The dizziness, the shockingly bright flashes of light. And the cuff they had put on him was getting so tight that it was cutting into his wrist.

  He’d had enough.

  Ripping the remaining straps free, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. The metal cuff was strong, but he was stronger. He grabbed the bolt holding it to the table and snapped it as if were made of glass.

  The men in the room scattered, ducking behind equipment, trying to get to the door, but he moved between them and their only exit. They weren’t leaving unless he left first, and that was exactly what he planned to do. Get away from these people and figure out what was going on.

  Calder turned to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He thumbed the print scanner, but it didn’t recognize him. No matter. He grabbed the corner of the small box and tore it from the wall, then pulled the cluster of wires free and twisted a few together until he heard the mechanism in the door click.

  The door opened into a dark alley and he rushed toward the lit street, his eyes scanning the area for an easy mode of transport. Cars were easy to track, and public transport had onboard surveillance. Running through the city like a madman would make him stand out.

  He stopped from a moment, took a breath, and looked around him.

  There, across the street. There was a bar with a handful of bikes conveniently parked outside in a neat row. Dashing across traffic, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked past each of the bikes, all the while looking at their ignition modules.

  Many riders, like himself, spent the extra money to upgrade their vehicles with a bio-locking feature to render their vehicle useless without first being triggered by their DNA. They can’t be bypassed or hotwired--the technology was too intricate. Too exacting. Most of the bikes along the curb were highly customized models. Street rockets and Yakazimas. Racers.

  But on the end, he saw it. An old cruiser. All leather and chrome. It didn’t scream fast. It whispered take me.

  He checked the area once more, took note of the people on the street, and nonchalantly straddled the bike as if he owned it. A few minutes fiddling with the wires and the bike roared to life. He put on his shades, engaged the HUD, and pulled away from the curb and out into the night.

  For the second time in as many hours, Sierra pulled her gun. She cautiously approached the lab door that stood wide open and could see wires dangling in the cool night air. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Her back against the wall, she leaned and peered into the doorway. The room was empty and stuff was scattered all over the floor like a storm had come through.

  “Coop?” she shouted around the corner. She heard a rattle and some shuffling inside.

  “Mason? You alone?” His voice was apprehensive.

  “Yes. Is Calder with you?”

  “No, he got out a few minutes ago,” he said, and she could hear him approaching. She dropped her stance and turned toward the door, going into the room cautiously. Cooper was visibly shaken, and she gasped when she saw the bruises on his neck.

  “Calder?” she asked, gesturing toward the marks. He put a hand to his neck and frowned.

  “He tried to kill me. Thought he was going to choke me to death.”

  She put her gun back in her waistband and stooped to pick up a tray and some scattered tools off the floor. Steven crawled out of the shadows as well and began putting things back to rights.

  “You OK?” she asked, putting a hand to Steven’s shoulder. He grumbled incoherently, but otherwise he was fine.

  “When did he leave? Where did he go?” she asked, handing Cooper the tray she had picked up. He took it and set it on the counter.

  “I don’t know, maybe five minutes ago. No idea where he went, but we need to find him. He’s lethal.”

  Sierra nodded. She knew he was lethal, but had no idea what to do about it. Not like he was the same guy she had beers with after work anymore.

  “Do you have any idea where he would have gone?” Cooper asked as they continued to tidy the room.

  Sierra let out a breath and took a stool. She needed to think about this.

  “He wouldn’t go home--at least, I doubt he would. He definitely wouldn’t go to the precinct, or to any of the places we frequent. Too many people.”

  “Does he go anywhere for vacation?”

  “Vacation? Calder?” She sputtered with a quick laugh. He wasn’t the kind of guy to just take time off and go away. If anything, he’d take a long weekend and just disappear. Go off to “clear his head,” and she had no idea where he did that, or even if there was a specific place.

  Sierra stepped off the stool and looked up at him, a bit defeated, and shrugged.

  “We’ll find him somehow,” Cooper said, but she knew they were grasping at straws.

  “Thanks for all this, and sorry I got you involved,” Sierra said.

  “Who else do you have that could help? Trust me, you’ve both covered my ass more times that I can count. I owe you both, even if he did try to kill me.”

  Sierra smiled and gave him a nod, but the smile quickly faded when she realized Calder was still out there and they had no idea where. Time was ticking and they needed to act fast. She hoped that Cooper could figure something out because at this point, she was at a loss.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The winding road began to fade and blur. Calder had been riding hard for hours, and the monotonous hum of the bike along with the never-ending lines on the road were starting to play with his exhausted mind. With heavy eyelids, he pulled off onto into the gravel and parked.

  In his drawn-out daze, thinking of everything and nothing at all, he realized suddenly that he did know who he was, he was damn sure of it, but for how long? When did he remember?

  Habitually, he pulled up his sleeve to look at his wrist, but the faint blue numbers still blinked zeroes. And he realized he hadn’t gotten any calls either, even though he knew Sierra must have tried a hundred times by now.

  His internal systems were definitely fried by whatever it was that he’d uploaded.

  Shit.

  He wanted to talk to her, apologize, but how did you apologize for something like this? He didn’t even know what he’d said or done to her. And then a blood-halting thought crossed his mind. What if he had hurt her? Maybe that was why she hadn’t called. What if he’d killed her? Holy fuck…

  Whether it was the harrowing events of the day or the sheer volume of adrenaline being constantly pumped into his system, Calder dropped to his knees, unable to fully process the thought.

  He pounded himself in the forehead, wishing he could just rip out whatever it was that was in his head, but he couldn’t.

  He fell back, sitting in the dirt with his face tucked into his knees and his hands clasped behind his head, his mind scrambling to grasp some thread of normalcy, but it was no use. This hell was his new home. His new reality.

  Scrubbing his face with his hands, he took the chance and tapped his ear pod, sending a call out to her, but it immediately went through to her messaging system.

  “Mason… it’s McKenna. Not sure what to say or if you’re even there to hear this, but… Shit.” He growled and struggled to remain in control of himself, blowing out a harsh breath. “I’m sure an apology is not only lacking right now, but probably pointless. So… I… I’m… Fuck me.” He tapped the pod. Kicking at the dirt and punching the air, he wished he could feel the pain of it.

  An ominous feeling surrounded him as he pondered what he was going to do. Would he ever see her again, or any of his friends, for that matter? Could he trust himself around another living soul ever again?

  Sitting in the middle of nowhere, though it was safer for the populace at large, wasn’t goin
g to help his predicament at all. There had to be someone who could help him figure this out, or even remove his augment, if necessary. He would risk permanent brain damage if he went that far, but it was better than waking up every morning wondering whom he’d murdered in his sleep.

  Getting up from the ground, he straddled the bike again and started the engine. The gauges jumped as the engine warmed and the stats blinked and came online.

  The console on the bike only offered simple navigation, an old-school digital compass that said NW, but that told him nothing.

  Leaning back, he thought for a second. Looked at the area around him. The sun had been setting in front of him during most of his trip. If he was heading west and out through Rockwood, he’d be near the NE3 border by now and should see a checkpoint soon. Once he got to the checkpoint, if he was on the right road, he’d gain his bearings and be able to go from there.

  Taking hold of the bike and gunning the engine, he headed down the road, kicking up dirt and leaves in a stormy spiral behind him. The exhaust was a haunting echo in the expanse of the huge black openness around him.

  Within a few miles, he saw the checkpoint and the big “NE3” marker.

  Now he knew where he was. Now he could get somewhere useful.

  Coming to a halt, he put a foot down and spun, heading back the way he came. There was a side road about ten miles back that he needed to find. It was his only option.

  It was eerily dark on the road. Enveloped by trees and a whole lot of nothing, Calder felt exposed. He was not entirely familiar with his surroundings and didn’t know what dangers crept in the darkness. He could feel his heart start to pound as his mind sorted through every nasty possibility he could face out here. His hand went to his jacket, and the weight of the weapons still hidden there gave him some comfort, but not much.

  There was a rusted, old collection box tucked back from the road, covered in moss and crawling vines. He nearly passed it a second time when he caught the glint of the metal out of the corner of his eye. Pulling onto the rough path that led back into the woods, he braced himself against the jolt as the bike bounced, passing over the rutted trail.