Syndicate Wars: False Dawn (Seppukarian Book 4)

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  “Still talking about Syndicate here, right?”

  Giovanni chuckled. “Exclusively, yes.”

  “Not that…you know, numbers would bother me.”

  “Mine wouldn’t.” Giovanni glanced away, embarrassed, then looked back to Luke. “Is it weird that our minds are on this stuff, even during everything else?”

  “Considering the fact that there’s no time for this type of conversation otherwise, I’d say it’s a miracle we haven’t been worse so far.”

  Giovanni’s mouth went dry and he glanced over, wondering if that was somehow Luke’s way of saying he wanted to be more intimate. Not that he hadn’t thought the same thoughts, but his mind went back to the topic of distractions. Getting physical certainly would be a distraction, and likely change his mindset on a few things. For now, he decided, it was a topic best left alone.

  CODY AND HAYDEN were seated behind the controls of the glider as it swooped down over the plains. Hayden was manually flying the craft as Cody studied the glider’s air to ground radar, a system he’d nicknamed Skyview.

  Using a touch-screen, Cody was able to create an integrated multi-colored map of the earth. By using the system he was able to simultaneously track anything on the ground and in the air within ten miles of the glider. He tapped the glider’s console and subwindows propagated, providing overhead shots of a few vehicles moving down various roads. The system reminded Cody of a surveillance platform the military had once created many years before. It was called ARGUS-IX, a four point four gigapixel video system (made up of 368 individual sensors) that could resolve details as small as six inches from an altitude of thirty-thousand feet. Skyview had significantly greater capabilities and as Cody tapped each subwindow, he was able to zoom down and into the targeted vehicle. He was disappointed that Samantha was nowhere in sight.

  “Like finding that goddamn needle in a haystack,” Hayden said.

  Cody nodded. “They had an hour head start on us at least. No telling where they are now.”

  “Another six minutes and we’re circling back,” Hayden said.

  Cody slumped in his chair and listened to the sound of the wind buffeting the glider. For a moment he lost himself in the sky, which was powder blue and streaked with low cloud cover. “Tell me how this ends Hayden,” Cody whispered.

  “Who says it will?”

  Cody looked over. “Would it bother you if it didn’t? If the fighting continued?”

  Hayden didn’t respond and Cody added, “Renner said you left the service for a while.”

  Hayden frowned, looking straight ahead. “Renner flaps his gums too much.”

  “Is it true?”

  Hayden slowly nodded. “I binned out for a bit, yeah. I tried to settle down and do the one point five kids and white picket fence thing.”

  “How come you came back?”

  Hayden looked over. “You ‘member what Hawkins said before? All that shit about the circle being around since the dawn of time and how we’re on the inside of it looking out?”

  “I remember,” Cody said.

  “That is one of the truest goddamn things I’ve ever heard. When I left and went back to the world, it just didn’t make sense no more. I guess you could say I stepped outside of that circle. I mean, they can say what they want about war being evil and whatnot, but the idea of being part of something real, of sacrificing yourself for one of your people? Man, you just don’t get the same sensation cutting the grass on a Thursday night. You feel me?”

  Cody nodded. “So Quinn and the others—”

  “They’re my tribe, man,” Hayden said. “They are my fucking people.”

  “What about me?” Cody asked.

  “You know how there’s always one person who stands in the back and makes all the other people look really good. That’s you, bro.”

  “Was that a compliment?”

  Hayden smirked. “Close as I’ll ever get to one.”

  Hayden held out a fist that Cody bumped. Then Cody turned back to the console and quickly swiped away several vehicles that did not contain Samantha. There were no more vehicles anywhere in sight. He leaned back, wondering what the hell had happened to her.

  14

  Samantha was led out the back of the warehouse by one of Rane’s armed bandits and through an area that was a beehive of activity. She saw men and women in sheds churning out small machine parts and pumping and mixing fuel or tending to rows of wind turbines, while others powered up welding torches to fasten armor against the sides of trucks and SUVs. Still others were stooped over benches in greenhouses and a water station that lay beside a small forest of solar panels that Samantha was taken through, keeping her eyes downcast.

  She looked sideways to see tents where a mixture of people, of various ages and ethnicities, were sharpening blades and slotting bullets into ammunition magazines. She saw a peg board with what looked like animal masks hanging from it, along with what might be human scalps. An enormous Hispanic man holding a machete grabbed one of them from the board, a mask that resembled the head of a pig, and slid it down over his face.

  The armed bandit holding her wrist saw this and laughed. “The Lord created the world in six days. Only took five for it to fall apart.”

  They shuttled past all of this, Xan and Quarrels nowhere to be seen. Rane was suddenly visible up ahead, standing by his lonesome. He still had the tan scarf around his neck, but he’d taken off his jacket and had his dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, as if he was readying to go to work. His forearms were tanned and wiry and she spotted a few tattoos on his wrist.

  “Since when do judges get inked?” she blurted out.

  Rane smiled. “It was a midlife crisis thing. I’d just turned forty-five and thought it might be appropriate to get a motorcycle and a few tats. People I worked with thought it was a cliché, but there comes a time when you forget what it felt like to be young.”

  “Looking into the past?” Samantha asked.

  Rane nodded. “Nostalgia I suppose.”

  “My mom used to say nostalgia is like crack for old people,” Samantha said.

  Rane smiled. “I’d like to meet your mother.”

  “I’m pretty sure you will.”

  Rane’s smile slipped away and Samantha gestured to the bandits in the sheds. “You’ve

  got a nice little operation.”

  “Purely out of necessity. Who else would help us?”

  “The government?”

  Rane barked a nasty laugh. “Do you know the nine most terrifying words in the

  English language?”

  Samantha shook her head.

  “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help,” Rane replied, chuckling. “People say

  the aliens destroyed everything, but everything was already gone long before they came. I mean, you’re young, but what was coming out of D.C.? Gridlock, graft, scandal upon scandal, everybody looking out for themselves, putting party before people.”

  “Pot meet kettle,” Samantha said.

  Rane chuckled. “I assume you’re insinuating that I’m no different. That I’m some kind of brigand, right?”

  “Only if brigand means a guy who murders people and steals their stuff.”

  Rane smiled, his teeth as white as piano keys. “One man’s thief is another man’s entrepreneur, Samantha. And besides, I’m simply laying the foundation for what’s to come.”

  “Yeah. Hell on Earth.”

  “If the aliens wanted to destroy this planet, don’t you think they would have already done it?” Rane asked. “I think this is less about destruction and more about colonization.”

  “Love how you’re rationalizing the destruction of our world.”

  “I was forced to do the same thing literally every day I was on the bench as a judge. One of the few positive things you learn in law school is to understand your adversary. You think like them, you become like them, you are fully aware of every facet of their position.”

  “I’m pretty sure their posit
ion is a simple one: kill and kidnap.”

  “You’re wrong,” Rane said, staring up at the sky. “They’ve largely stopped the mass killing because they’ve realized they made a mistake. The first rule of any invasion is do not take more territory than you can control. You do that and you lay the groundwork for your own defeat. I think they know this which is why they’ve pulled back and started building bases out in the deserts. In time, I believe the Earth will be an outpost ruled over by something akin to the East India Company. Do you know what that is?”

  “I’m twelve,” Samantha replied.

  “It was a business that originally began in the Seventeenth Century and gradually expanded so that by the Nineteenth Century it had its own army, accounted for half the world’s trade, and ruled over large sections of Asia.”

  “You think the aliens are going to be like that?”

  Rane shook his head. “I think they’re going to need something like that to pacify and rule this planet.”

  “Does Xan know about this? Cause she’s kinda got issues with anyone she thinks might be in cahoots with the aliens.”

  Rane winked at her. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  “And so what? You’re planning on working for the Syndicate?” Samantha asked.

  “Why not?”

  “For starters, you’d literally be a traitor to your species.”

  Rane’s face darkened. “Let me tell you about our species. When the invasion happened I was leaving a judicial conference in Denver. I was heading home when I found that the National Guard had blocked off I-25 without telling anyone. I got out of my car and the street was alive with people and there was this sound in the air, like a billion knives rubbing against each other all at once. I looked up and there they were, those flying drones, the ones some people called Swans. One of them shot this metal whip, this lasso, down that looped around my neck and before I could even scream I was being pulled up into the air. Even now I can’t describe the level of pain, but I remember waving my arms and crying out and nobody, not one goddamn person, made a move to help.”

  At this, Rane removed the tan scarf to reveal a halo of ridged, welted flesh around his neck. He looked as if he’d survived a hanging, Samantha thought. As if someone had strung him up (which they had) and left him to dangle for hours, the rope gouging his neck.

  “I was all alone and I closed my eyes and somehow, by some miracle, that halo snapped and I fell twenty feet down to the ground and suffered nothing worse than this scar and a few bruises,” Rane said. “So it’s not that I’m turning my back on the species. The species turned its back on me a long time ago.”

  Before Samantha could respond, there came the roar of several engines. She looked up to see three armored SUVs being backed up toward them. In addition, the large object that Samantha previously saw hidden under the tarp was driven down a concrete ramp at the rear of the warehouse.

  “It’s time to go,” Rane said.

  “Remember how you said you’d like to meet my mother?”

  Rane nodded.

  “I think you’re going to get that opportunity really soon.”

  “And?” Rane asked.

  “And she’s probably not going to be in the best of moods,” Samantha said.

  Rane smiled. “Do you know why I’m not worried?”

  Samantha just stared at Rane who whistled as two men removed the tarp from the large object to reveal a titanic, weaponized dump-truck. The machine had metal baffles on the side for extra protection, a Gatling-gun like weapon bolted to the middle of the hood, several small rockets on either side, seated in metal canisters, and a giant yellow smiley face painted on the front grill. Four men climbed into the dump-truck while six more, including two men carrying what appeared to be surface-to-air missiles, entered several armored SUVs.

  Rane pointed at the dump-truck. “That’s why I’m not afraid of your mother,” he said. He laid a hand on Samantha’s shoulder and guided her toward one of the armored SUVs. She watched him bark a few orders in Spanish to the other bandits, after which he climbed into the vehicle with her. The SUV with Samantha inside jolted off, heading west while the dump-truck and several other SUVs, overflowing with armed bandits headed east … headed back toward Shiloh.

  SAMANTHA SAT IN THE BACK, sandwiched between two of Rane’s goons who were grimy and smelled of sweat and meat that had been left out in the sun to spoil. She saw that the SUV was driving down an industrial road, following the SUVs driven by Xan and the other resistance fighters. They were headed out across the scrub, driving toward the mountains.

  Rane was in the passenger seat up front, a pair of pencils in hand, drumming along the dashboard to the beat of a jazz song that was warbling from an old, portable music player. Samantha watched Rane grooving to the tune, eyes closed, following the beat, tapping out a high-hat on his knees.

  “Life is a lot like jazz, it’s best when you improvise,” Rane said. His eyes snapped open and he glanced at Samantha. “George Gershwin said that.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” Samantha replied.

  “But you understand the meaning of what I just said, don’t you?”

  Samantha remained silent and Rane gestured to the two goons. “Cut her straps,” he said.

  Samantha reacted and one of the goons unfolded a box cutter and cut the bindings on Samantha’s wrist. “Now you’re free,” Rane said. “Now you can show me what you’re capable of. Improvise a little.”

  Samantha stared at her hands and moved her fingers. Thoughts were swirling in her head. She closed her eyes and began focusing, concentrating on finding a way to do something, anything.

  “C’mon, c’mon, show me some magic,” Rane said.

  “It’s not magic,” she replied.

  “What is it then?”

  “You’ll see,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “You’ll see…”

  But nothing happened.

  Not a thing.

  Silence shrouded the SUV and then Samantha opened her eyes. There was a look of profound disappointment on Rane’s face.

  “I guess I was expecting something … significant,” Rane said. “Looks like you’re perfectly ordinary after all.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “I hope Alexandra and Mister Quarrels don’t disappoint me. If they do, you’ll have to answer for it.”

  Rane smiled again. Then he whistled and one of the goons brought out a pair of plastic zipcuffs and tightened them back around Samantha’s wrists. They drove on, Samantha listening to the sound of Rane drumming on the dashboard.

  SAMANTHA WAS SURPRISED when the SUV turned off the primary road and blasted across a strip of hard-packed earth that led toward the mountains. They motored across a floodplain and then glided over a bridge that spanned a roiling river. She noticed that Rane was staring intently at something in the distance as the SUV edged over a ridgeline. The SUV drew closer and Samantha peered out at the scattered remains of some abandoned government complex hidden in the scrub.

  She saw a fallen metal fence, a few curls of asphalt separating squat buildings that circled a partially camouflaged monstrosity of concrete and reinforced steel. The thing looked like a ziggurat, one of those temples in Central America that she’d read about once in an old magazine. Rane’s mouth peeled back in a smile when he saw the other SUVs up ahead, the ones driven by Xan, Quarrels, and the others.

  Samantha was led down from the SUV, the air hot and gritty. Xan, Quarrels, and several other resistance fighters that Samantha had seen before were studying the front of the ziggurat intently. The entrance was a slab of polished steel pinned with some kind of scanner. Samantha watched Rane walk up to the scanner and examine it. He turned and muttered something to Xan and Quarrels who shook their heads. Then Rane turned and gestured to a tall bandit with pierced ears and a pony tail.

  “Go back and grab the key,” Rane said to the bandit.

  The pony tailed bandit raced back to the SUV. He disappeared around the back and then re
appeared seconds later. A rocket propelled grenade launcher was positioned over his shoulder.

  “Open sesame,” Rane said, everyone standing back, Samantha ducking for cover.

  BOOM!

  The bandit fired the launcher. The warhead slammed into the entrance door, penetrating the metal just enough to tear it from its hinges. Xan and Quarrels were the first ones inside as a bandit jabbed Samantha in the back, urging her to follow.

  The interior of the ziggurat had originally been divided into sections. The warhead had changed that, the explosion having ripped a hole in a security zone just inside the doorway. Smoke hung in the air but Samantha could see the large space just on the other side of the security zone. She inched forward, listening to the hoots and hollers of the bandits as they peered out over row-upon-row of dust-covered, crates and containers. Samantha could see now that the building was some kind of armaments vault.

  Every conceivable weapon and totem of war was visible: machine-guns, rocket launchers, ammo, grenades, blocks of explosives, night-vision goggles, body-armor, tactical vests, and communications gear. And on the far side of the space, near a rear metal roll-up door, were several militarized machines: two motorcycles streaked with desert camouflage, a small ATV, and what looked like a multi-person kayak on steroids with some kind of motors attached to the sides. And beyond all of that were stacks and bundles of drugs with medical markings on them. Samantha saw Quarrels smile when he spotted the contraband, paying particular attention to the drugs and one of the motorcycles.

  Rane motioned to his men who began prying open the crates and containers like otters cracking open clams. Samantha recognized some of the weapons from her time with the resistance, including: old-school Javelin rockets (along with a single Hafnium launcher), ballistic grenades, squad automatic weapons, and cases of linked ammunition and chest racks filled with thirty-round magazines.

  She saw Xan, Quarrels, and the resistance fighters gather up a few of the rocket launchers, rifles, ammunition, one of the motorcycles, and grenades, leaving the bulk of the weaponry for Rane and his boys who eagerly began carrying it outside.