For Zeke.
“You know this city well.” Foster’s voice made the image of Zeke in the camouflage shorts and printed T-shirt he probably absconded from her best friend and neighbor, Ghared Timms, disappear.
“Lived here my entire life. All thirty-four years.” Twenty-something of those years had been amazingly wonderful. She’d had her parents who loved her abundantly, her brothers Deo and Dixon with whom she was a triplet, and Ghared who was like another brother. Then she’d become a cop like her father and had enjoyed every day at work. Her colleagues were wonderful to be with, whether catching criminals or downing beers. It was as if she’d had two families. When she’d found Zeke, her happiness climbed to a new level because she now had someone to take care of, someone who depended on her.
Things had been fabulous in the city she loved.
Then the Anarch—a secret group of techhead terrorists—fucked everything up.
Grinding her teeth now, she led Foster down a set of narrow stone steps to the underground railway, inoperable since the Anarch unplugged the entire globe. What she remembered most about that night was how dark and quiet it had been. Not a single light anywhere. Not a single mechanical noise of any kind. Just complete blackness and absolute silence, both so intense it hurt.
With so much of the world dependent on electronic devices and the internet, the phrase third world country became third world globe. Hospitals couldn’t run. Their generators only lasted a few days. Existing patients died and new ones couldn’t get the care they needed. NASA satellites dropped out of space, crashing to Earth and crushing anything they landed on. Those satellites still remained where they’d fallen, looking very much like tragic monuments memorializing the Anarch attack.
Businesses tanked with no technology to keep them operational and no patrons to keep commerce going. Money simply stopped flowing just as electricity and water had. Prosperous cities around the globe instantly became cement jungles where people did their best to survive to see the next sunrise. Without modern inventions, people had gone insane pretty quickly. They’d forgotten how to be self-sufficient.
They didn’t know how to live unplugged.
Savage behavior clawed at humanity’s hold on civilization. A new way of living emerged.
It was called survival.
Darina could admit to missing the conveniences, but she’d managed. Even after the Anarch had been caught, no one knew how to turn everything back on properly. The techheads had left a nasty virus in the system, and geeks were still trying to sort it all out. If you knew the right people, you could get access to working technology today, but that was all underground stuff. Maybe someday the world would be up and running at full power again, but Darina had her doubts she’d live to see it.
She hoped Zeke got to, though.
After several miles of scurrying in the shadows like feral cats, Darina ascended a set of stairs, motioning for Foster to stay below until she signaled to him. He nodded, surprising her.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I just expected you to be more trouble than you’ve been.”
“Punching you in the face wasn’t enough trouble for you?” He smiled, all perfect white teeth, and she wished he wouldn’t do that. That was a dangerous smile right there. One that made her forget she didn’t allow herself to have feelings for attractive men. Especially rich ones. Not anymore.
She’d had a few relationships in the past, but nothing that stuck. She didn’t need one that stuck. She had Ghared and Zeke for company. After the Anarch attack, pockets of fighting broke out; she’d lost her brothers who were soldiers and had joined the battle without hesitation. They’d fought bravely, as did Ghared, but only Ghared returned home. Returned to what was left of home anyway. He’d been taking care of Darina and Zeke ever since, and they took care of him. She only had room for two men in her life, and Ghared and Zeke were the chosen two.
She’d let another man get close to her once. At least she’d thought she had. A stupid move. One she wouldn’t be repeating.
This Dr. Foster Ashby was a job. A paycheck. Nothing more.
She climbed the last few steps slowly, scanning the open area at the top and holding out her weapon. Deeming it free of bad guys, she signaled Foster to join her. She watched all that black hair atop his head as he traveled up the steps. Her fingers got this wild notion to bury themselves in it, and she silently scolded those fingers.
Traitors.
She needed all her focus to finish this job and get back home to Zeke. The kid had endured one of his violent seizures right before she’d had to leave. Ghared had said he’d take care of it, but she’d hated leaving Zeke in that exhausted, confused, post-seizure haze. Every time he had one, she feared it would take him from her. Though he wasn’t technically hers to begin with, after ten years of acting as if he was hers, she couldn’t deny she loved him more than anyone on this screwed up planet.
After finding him under that pier and taking him home with her, the boy had obeyed her every word and clung to her like a magnet. Even now at sixteen, he preferred hanging out with her and Ghared rather than anyone his own age. He spent time with Ghared’s niece, Mareea, whenever she visited Ghared, which was often, but he was still mostly Darina’s boy, and she was totally okay with that.
She supposed he felt lucky to have been found by her and owed her something. Most genetically engineered castoffs—GECs—were imprisoned and scrapped for parts. Zeke had received the failed rating because of his seizures. Not his fault the DNA they combined wasn’t a good cocktail, but the companies working in genetic engineering took their failures seriously. They weren’t going to be responsible for putting substandard humans in the battlefield. Only the best test tube-grown soldiers were allowed to suit up and fight alongside enlisted men and women.
Zeke had not been considered the best so he’d been labeled a GEC as soon as he had his first seizure, but he’d escaped from the company that had made him to a life of living on the streets or under harbor piers. That had been better than being ripped apart for pieces to be used in other experiments. Dismantlement. If Darina wasn’t so busy trying to keep herself, Zeke, and Ghared alive in the city, she would have lobbied against dismantlement. What a horrible notion.
Thinking of it now sent a shudder rippling through Darina. She couldn’t imagine her life without Zeke. He was her reason for living.
Zeke was also her reason for traipsing around the city with a man who had a target on his back. And not just any target. Dr. Mikale Warres, famous chemist and current World’s Most Wanted, was after Foster Ashby. Darina had to be out of her mind accepting this job. She didn’t want to get tangled up with Warres.
But the money will keep us in the clear for a while.
Besides, getting behind the walls of Emerge Tech might get her some help. Help with Zeke’s seizures. She’d heard word of a medicine that eased conditions like Zeke’s. If she could get some of that medicine, maybe she could spare her boy the debilitating after-effects. He always said he felt nothing during a seizure, but when it was over and he wanted to do nothing but sleep, she knew the toll it took on his body.
Foster stood beside her now—a little too close for comfort, but she was supposed to be guarding him after all. Couldn’t do that if he was far away.
“See that busted up subway car over there?” She pointed across the street to the charred car tipped on its side. It had probably been in motion when the Unplug happened and vaulted off its tracks up to street level. Dead passengers were most likely rotting inside if the stench riding the warm, summer breeze was any indication.
“Yes.” Foster’s breath skated across the back of her neck as he replied.
She ignored the sensations whispering throughout her body. “Let’s make a run for that and reassess there.”
“Okay.” He took a stance, ready to run, and matched her pace perfectly when they took off.
Darina rather liked having someone beside her as th
ey picked their way closer to Emerge Tech’s walls. Nowadays, she was on the job by herself, seeking out low-life scum or, more recently, overseeing the removal of dead bodies from the streets. Unfortunately, the number of dead bodies had become too many to count.
Ever since Mikale Warres had unleashed his lethal plague while the world was still trying to recover from the Anarch attack.
A disease that devoured people from the inside out, this bit of fatal chemistry was worming through the globe’s population. If it wasn’t stopped soon, the pandemic would succeed in wiping out the human race, which was exactly what Warres wanted. He was obsessed with cleansing the planet and starting a new breed of humankind. Reports called him a “madman pursuing madmen,” which wasn’t altogether false. Lunatics wandered the wrecked streets of Boston every day. Some of them probably shouldn’t be allowed to run about, but that wasn’t for Warres to decide. He didn’t have the right to end their lives, and so painfully, no matter how crazy they’d become. The police were working on containing those people and getting them help. Eventually the technology would be back full strength—Darina had to believe that—and the world would need as many people as possible to rebuild. That was the correct strategy.
Not repopulation, but reconstruction.
Certainly people like Ghared, Zeke, and herself hadn’t lost their minds despite the lifestyle they were forced to endure. They were trying to help the cause. Ghared was a tech geek, working on rebooting, while she was policing the streets. Zeke often helped Ghared, and someday, she hoped he’d get the chance to contribute to society in whatever way he decided. They all deserved to live. And in a world where they didn’t have to worry about contracting Warres’s plague.
She shot a look over her shoulder at Foster. He was waiting for her next command. Ready to listen. Perhaps he deserved to live too. After all, the man was dedicating his life to finding a cure to the pandemic, but what were his motives? Fame? Fortune? The rich always wanted to be richer. Most likely he wanted to be the hero of the day.
Self-absorbed prick.
Huddling beside him behind the subway car, she said, “Emerge Tech is about three miles west of here. If we stay low and move fast, we can make it.”
“Low, fast. Got it.”
His eyes were an odd shade of pale green that reminded Darina of the plants her mother used to grow in her greenhouse before the Anarch attack. Before her mother, a robotics engineer, and her father, a cop, joined the search for the techheads and had lost their lives as her brothers had. Darina would have been there hunting or fighting at their sides, but she’d been injured in a hovercopter accident only a week before the world went dark.
Ghared still blamed himself for that accident, though she’d told him a hundred times it wasn’t his fault. Flexing the fingers of her left hand now, she fought off old memories and heartbreak over things she’d had to do make herself whole again.
Focus on now.
If she had any hope of getting Foster to Emerge Tech, Darina had to use all her cop skills. Reliving the past—and her mistakes—was not the way to do that.
They made their way west, sticking close to building remains and moving like phantoms. Foster kept up effortlessly, never complained about their pace, and didn’t question any of her decisions. The smart rich guys she’d encountered did not behave like Foster Ashby at all. They were all too eager to assume she didn’t know the first thing about anything and made it their duty to enlighten her. They were manipulative and believed the world revolved around them.
Well, maybe not this world. This world barely kept turning on its axis anymore, but whatever. Every wealthy male she’d had the bad luck to come across had treated her like an object, one they could do with as they pleased.
And yeah, she’d let that happen. Once. But she’d gotten what she wanted out of the deal too. Sort of. That was how life rolled sometimes.
Again she flexed the fingers of her left hand, watching the ring of stars tattoo waver under the movement of the muscles in her forearm. She’d always been a woman who did what had to be done no matter how much it sucked.
She glanced at Foster. Now she was doing what had to be done to keep this guy safe. She was always keeping someone safe. Zeke, sometimes Ghared and his niece, sometimes random people on the streets, and today, a genius doctor.
A damn sexy one.
The walls of Emerge Tech came into view before she had too much time to think about Foster as sexy. Distracting thoughts. Her line of work didn’t blend well with distracting thoughts.
“Thanks,” Foster said. “I can take it from here.” He made a move to walk past her to the gates.
She grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “My orders are to bring you to your domicile.” She reached into her pocket and produced the keycard the CEO of Emerge Tech had given her when she’d accepted the job.
Foster eyed the keycard then shook his head. “I don’t need an escort.”
“I didn’t ask if you needed one. You’ve got one, and that’s that.”
He pursed his lovely lips, all the muscles in his face tensing as he regarded her with those piercing green eyes.
A flash of heat zipped through her body. Summer temps and running through the city. That was all. It had nothing to do with the intensity of his gaze.
“You’re persistent,” he said.
“I’m thorough. This is my job.” She checked to the left, then the right, and led the way to the gates.
Foster followed, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. She was minutes away from collecting one of the biggest paychecks in her career, and she’d be inside Emerge Tech’s walls. She didn’t want to have to deal with Foster if he somehow ruined either of those end results. The money she’d receive for delivering him would go a long way in keeping her, Zeke, and Ghared fed and if she could get her hands on something to help Zeke’s seizures, that would please her like nothing else ever had.
To not have to see her favorite person in the world suffer… hell, she’d do anything for that.
Chapter Two
“How in Hell did we lose him?” Dr. Mikale Warres pounded his fist on the dashboard in front of him. What good was a cadre of R81 Podsters if you couldn’t catch one man with them? The sleek, single-person craft was bullet-shaped, fast, and should have been able to track prey like Foster Ashby without incident.
Yet, here I am. Empty-handed.
“Sorry, boss,” a voice piped into Mikale’s earpiece. “He isn’t showing up on any scans.”
“He didn’t just vanish.” Imbeciles. He’d probably have better luck ditching his associates and hunting Ashby on his own. “I’m heading to Emerge Tech walls. That’s where he’s going.”
“But their security field will zap you, sir. You’ll be fried.”
This was true. For most people anyway. But Mikale wasn’t most people, and he couldn’t let Ashby get into the safety of Emerge Tech’s defenses. The good doctor had been bold enough—or stupid enough—to come out into the city, and Mikale wasn’t wasting that mistake. Only one thing stood in the way of his plague reaching its intended goal—Dr. Foster Ashby. Mikale planned to take care of that little detail.
Today.
“I’ll go on foot,” he told his associate. “You and the rest of the team head back to the base.”
“But sir, you shouldn’t go anywhere near Emerge Tech. It’s not safe for you.”
Mikale let out a roar. His associate was right of course. He was a wanted man. “Fine.” No time for arguments. “Take a contingent and get Ashby before he makes it back inside ET’s walls.”
Flicking off his earpiece, he jetted his Podster to a former parking garage and landed. It may not be safe for him to go to Emerge Tech, but he could still comb the streets, hoping Foster was still wandering. He holstered his gun, attached two pepperblasts to his belt, and ran for the stairs. Most of them had crumbled to no more than a steep, bumpy ramp so he tested the iron handrail. Finding it still pretty solid, he straddled it and slid down. He use
d this system for four flights then jumped to the pavement of the bottom floor. A cloud of dust stirred up under his boots, and the crunch of rubble echoed off the remaining concrete walls of the garage.
Taking a moment to get his bearings, he headed west. With each pound of his boots, an image of Foster splashed into his mind. Being schoolmates together. Studying long hours together. Shooting to the top of their class together, Foster at number one and Mikale at number two. Emerge Tech hiring them both right out of school. Working side by side on perfecting prosthetic limb technology. Recognition. Awards. Wealth. They were golden boys.
Together.
Then some punkass techhead terrorists flicked the “off” switch and the world was plunged into the early 1900s. Fortunately, Emerge Tech had the means to build itself back up… and protect itself and its employees. He and Foster hadn’t changed their lifestyles all that much. They’d still lived in great comfort. They’d still had prestigious jobs, doing the work they loved. They’d had wounded soldiers aplenty, desperately needing prosthetic limbs after fighting broke out and the search for the Anarch stretched on. They’d still been golden boys, though the world was neck deep in pandemonium beyond the walls of Emerge Tech.
Then Mikale’s mother got sick. She lived on the outside, and he often visited her, but the city had become a place unfit for an aging woman. Mikale petitioned to have his mother brought inside the walls, but Emerge Tech refused.
“If we start taking people in, where do we draw the line?” they’d asked. “We have important work to do here. We can’t be distracted from our goals.”
“But it’s my mother,” Mikale had said. “I can’t leave her out there.”
Still, Emerge Tech wouldn’t bend, so he’d begun to take her supplies—food, clothing, medicines. When they’d caught him, they terminated his employment without a second thought. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Foster.
Safe (The Shielded Series Book 1) Page 2