Shadows of Ash (The Nameless Book 2)

by Adrian J. Smith

  Yamada smiled and the screen went dark.

  No one spoke for several moments. Ryan shook his head; his suspicions had been right. “Let’s go.”

  Hounds prowled around the car park. As far as Ryan could see, there were ten of them. As The Nameless exited the building, the creatures’ heads lifted, wolf-like snouts pointing into the air, sniffing. Their red eyes locked on The Nameless. Ryan lunged for the door as it swung shut behind Sofia, locking them all out. He cursed and pivoted.

  Sam snarled and sprinted straight for the creatures. “Get out of here,” Ebony screamed as she took off, slamming shoulder-first into the nearest Hound. It flew into the air for several meters before hitting the concrete, rolling, snarling, grunting.

  Cal pressed the button on the key fob she’d found in a staff room. A Toyota SUV beeped, and its lights flashed. The Hounds howled and renewed their efforts to reach The Nameless, but Ebony fought them off with superhuman strength and speed. In a flurry of movements, she kicked and punched, grappling with first one wolf and then another, snapping their necks. By the time Ryan had ushered everyone inside the SUV and pulled out of the car park, only three Hounds were left. They had leapt on top of cars and surrounded Ebony and Sam. Both woman and dog had splashes of blood across their chests and around their mouths. Hound bodies lay at odd angles.

  Ryan gunned the engine and squealed to a stop next to Ebony. “Get in!” he yelled as a cacophony of howls filled the early morning air. The Hounds on the cars answered the calls with howls of their own. Ryan didn’t wait around once Ebony and Sam were in. By the sounds of it, Ando had built an army of wolf creatures and they were all loose.

  They’d only traveled a kilometer down the road when Ryan slammed on the brakes. The SUV skidded to a stop next to a crashed Humvee.

  “What the hell are you doing, Connors?” Booth yelled, gesturing toward the pack of Hounds tearing toward them.

  “Guns,” Ryan said. He reached inside the crashed vehicle and grabbed two HK416s and one Glock 19 and passed them to Cal.

  “Hurry!” Cal said.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later they’d left the Hounds far behind. Ryan drove in silence, taking directions from Allie as they slowly made their way to Chitose Airport. Progress was slow but steady. Like the motorways outside Osaka, vehicles clogged the roads. They had to stop several times and push cars, and even the odd truck, out of the way. Several times, Ryan spotted other survivors in the distance. Some drove, some walked, while others were on bicycles. They were all headed in the same direction. Curiosity getting the better of him, he clicked on the car radio. A prerecorded voice crackled from the speakers. He translated for the non-Japanese speakers.

  “Citizens of Hokkaido, please make your way to Sapporo. We have opened a center at Moerenuma Park. The government is providing you with food, water, and medical care. Please register so we can provide you with better care and put you in contact with family members. We are working on solutions. Do your duty for Japan.”

  The message repeated several times before Cal switched it off. “That’s how they’re infecting the survivors. Giving them nanite-contaminated food and water.”

  “I thought we stopped the second wave in Japan?” Allie asked.

  “No. We stopped Offenheim from taking over. Yamada has other plans. Even more reason we need to succeed,” Ryan said.

  He drove on past crashed trucks and rolled vans. Piles of ash had been scattered by the wind and rain. Mutilated cadavers, their necks broken and licked clean, lay over a barrier as he pulled into the airport, scattering a murder of crows.

  Allie pointed away from the terminal toward a cluster of hangars. Several FedEx jets were parked on the tarmac, next to a couple of cargo planes.

  “Eyes sharp,” Ryan said. He crashed through the barrier arm and, slowing down, entered the first hangar.

  He whistled at the sight. Three blue and white jets were neatly parked, red carpets leading to open doors.

  “No good,” Allie said. “Those are Honda jets. Max distance thirteen hundred miles. If you want to reach Dutch Harbor on the Aleutian Islands, that’s at least twenty-five hundred miles. We need a Learjet or maybe one of those FedEx cargo planes.”

  “Go with what your gut tells you,” Cal said.

  “Keep looking. I’d prefer a Learjet. Faster, more comfortable, better maneuverability in case we’re attacked.”

  Ryan drove on. Each of the hangers had a different company’s jets parked up.

  “Try the hangar over there.” Allie pointed to a second group of buildings. These hangars were much larger than the rest and had been painted in bright red and white paint. Matsuda Industries was painted across the side in large black letters. A Learjet sat inside. As in the other hangars, a red carpet led to a rolling staircase and the aircraft’s cabin.

  “Perfect,” Allie said. “Learjet 60XR. This will take us where we need to go.”

  As The Nameless loaded their gear, tires squealed on the concrete outside in the distance. Booth ran to the hangar doors and peered out.

  “We got company. Japanese Defense Force. Three trucks.”

  “Where?” Cal said.

  “They’re at the first hangar, beginning a sweep.”

  Ryan cursed and threw his backpack to Allie. “Get her ready. Does it need refueling?”

  “I’ll check. Normally when the planes are in this position, they’re ready for departure.” She disappeared inside the luxurious plane.

  “Ebony, when they come in here, let me do the talking,” Ryan said. Ebony raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing. He didn’t need to say anything to his team. They were well-versed in keeping the peace when they had to. The guns were tucked away, out of sight but close enough to act if needed.

  Cal threw Ryan a suit bag she’d found in the office. “Put this on. You’ll look more the part.” The bag contained a pilot uniform complete with white shirt and blazer. The arms and legs were a couple of centimeters short, but it was a much better fit than the overalls. Once he’d finished dressing, Ryan tucked the gun into his waistband and covered it with his shirt.

  “Here they come,” Booth warned. He jogged back and stood with the others.

  The Defense Force soldiers entered the hangar, rifles raised, eyes alert. Ryan turned and smiled, holding up his hands.

  “Whoa. Easy now, fellas. We’re American citizens trying to get home.”

  The lead soldier stopped a few meters away. He raised his radio and spoke in rapid Japanese. Ryan only caught a few words, but he understood the gist. We found some.

  He signaled Cal using sign language. Stay alert. Fuel?

  Fully loaded, she signed back.

  At least that was something going their way. After hearing the radio instructions, Ryan had purposely taken smaller roads. Maybe they had just been unlucky. He had hoped for the best, but as the old saying went, prepare for the worst.

  “Captain Jordan,” Ryan said, holding out his hand. The soldier ignored him and kept his rifle trained on the group. Six more Defense Force soldiers arrived. They blocked the hangar doors and made a show of clicking the safety switches off. One of the soldiers, a sergeant, approached Ryan.

  “Who are you and why are you here?” he said in English.

  “As I was saying, my name is Captain Jordan. Inside the cockpit is Richards. We’re trying to get back to the States to our families, using the company jet.”

  “You work for Matsuda Industries?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And these people?”

  “Tourists who were staying in the same hotel. They were here for the big sumo tournament.” Ryan smiled again, remembering the signs everywhere.

  “Why are they wearing gray overalls?”

  Ryan chided himself for forgetting a small but important detail. For a deception to be successful, it was best to base it in truth. He gestured at Ebony and Booth.

  “We found these two trapped inside the nuclear power plant. There was a fire, so we went to i
nvestigate. It looked like a battle had taken place. You may what to check it out. Be careful, though, those things are everywhere.” He paused and pointed to the Geiger counter. “I changed everyone into the overalls as a precaution.”

  The sergeant pivoted and conversed with the soldier behind him in hushed tones. The soldier walked back to the truck and spoke into a radio.

  The Japanese sergeant flicked his eyes between the members of the group. His face was difficult to read. The soldiers had relaxed their pose, their rifles now pointed at the ground rather than at The Nameless.

  “All civilians are to report to Moerenuma Park. Foreigners included. The radio transmission was extremely clear. Did you think you could just take a Japanese plane and leave?” the sergeant said.

  Ryan bowed deeply. “I’m sorry. We meant no offense. We heard the transmission, but it was in Japanese.”

  “It was in English too.”

  “We never heard it, and as a result, received no instructions. So we took matters into our own hands. If you let us, we could be on our way and out of your hair.”

  “Impossible. You will accompany us and be processed. Transportation will then be organized.”

  “Sergeant. We’re ready to go. Less paperwork for you.”

  “That is of no consequence to me Captain Jordan.”

  The soldier returned and spoke to his superior.

  “It would appear that you were correct about the fire,” the sergeant said. He clipped his heels together. “Please, come with us. We will take care of everything.”

  Ryan bowed for a second time. Behind his back he signaled for Booth and Cal to be ready. He ran through the odds in his head. The soldiers had grown bored while he and the sergeant talked. The Nameless had displayed a relaxed pose and acted like concerned tourists. Ebony had sat down on the stairs with Sam, patting his shoulders. Eight armed soldiers in total. Seven who’d be able to respond in seconds. One – the sergeant – would take longer. Ryan could take down two before they knew what was happening. So would Cal and Booth. That left a further two. As always, Ryan struggled with decisions like this. He was trained to sneak in and out of places, avoid entanglements at all costs. Killing fellow soldiers who were just doing their job wasn’t what he had signed up for. Protecting and serving humanity, however, was. For the many, we sacrifice the few.

  He rose from his bow. “Of course. I apologize for the misunderstanding.” At the same time, he held three fingers at a right angle, behind his back, and drew the Glock. He fired at the two soldiers to the sergeant’s immediate left. He hit them both in the throat. Blood sprayed out in a gruesome arc.

  Pop. Pop.

  He swung his pistol back in the direction of the sergeant. The soldier behind him fired his rifle, hitting Ryan in the upper left arm and spinning him around and down to the ground. Booth and Cal fired at the remaining soldiers while Ebony burst off the stairs and vaulted over the prone Ryan in an awe-inspiring leap. She landed in front of the sergeant and twisted his neck with an audible crunch.

  Less than five seconds had passed, and eight Japanese Defense Force soldiers were dead.

  Without being instructed, The Nameless spread out. Cal checked Ryan’s wound. The bullet had gone straight through the muscle and missed the bones. It hurt like crazy, but the nanites had already begun their work, repairing the damage. A few minutes later, it was just an angry red mark. Throbbing, but nothing more.

  They brought the two trucks inside the hangar, stripped the bodies of ammo and weapons and loaded them into the vehicles.

  The Japanese Defense Force trucks proved to be a goldmine of much-needed resources. Cold-weather clothing, more ammo, and food. They loaded it all into the Learjet 60XR and slammed the door shut.

  The engines were whining awake as Ryan took the co-pilot’s seat.

  “That was ruthless,” Allie said, flicking switches.

  “Not our usual style, but circumstances called for it.” He said a silent prayer for the soldier’s families. “Flight path sorted?”

  “Dutch Harbor course plotted. Get some rest. Five hours flight time.” Allie smiled. “It feels good to be in the cockpit again. Send Booth up when you’re ready. Now buckle in and please enjoy our in-flight entertainment.”

  Ryan grinned. He liked Allie and was thankful that out of all the people in Koya, she had survived and opted to come with him. “Thanks, Allie. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.” He left her there and took his seat next to Cal. Keiko sat with Ebony, Sam across their laps, in the seats opposite. The seats were wide and comfortable, covered in soft leather.

  “Booth. Captain wants your assistance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Try not to distract her too much.”

  Booth slapped him on the shoulder as he left the cabin. The movement caught Ebony’s attention. She looked between Cal and Ryan.

  “You know something. I ran away to Japan thinking I could leave my problems behind. Stupid selfish reasons. Now look at me. A freak.”

  “A freak?” Ryan said. “How so?”

  “You’ve seen what I can do.”

  “How long were you Ando’s prisoner?” Cal asked.

  “Depends. What year is it?”

  “Twenty twenty-one.”

  Ebony shook her head and stared back out the window. When she looked back, she had tears in her eyes and one tracking down her cheek. “I was a few hours away from being free. Ando drugged me. When I woke up, I was in a cell…” She looked out the window again. Sam whimpered and nestled his snout into her chest.

  “When did they take you?”

  “New Year’s Eve. The Millennium.”

  Cal whistled and shook her head. For twenty years, Ebony had been subjected to the horrors they had seen down in the lab. How many victims had been cast aside, preserved in tanks, before they figured out the right formulae? Ebony had the appearance of someone in their early twenties, not a woman in her forties.

  Ryan was eager to go through the plan with everyone but after the harrowing experiences they’d all had over the last few days, he left them to relax.

  Cal kissed his hand. “You okay?”

  “I can’t help but think that Yamada was just testing us.”

  “Maybe. Does it matter?”

  “This whole crazy situation. We’ve always been two steps behind. I’m tired of it.”

  The plane eased its way onto the runway and the engine noise rose several decibels as the jet shot forward. Within seconds, the Learjet was banking away and heading northeast. Ryan let his eyes wander over the disappearing islands of Japan.

  He had come to this country seeking solitude and reflection. To assess the next stage in his life. After so long fighting with every available resource to help keep the world safe, he had been burnt out. A hollow shell. His family’s sacrifice had been great – greater than most. For a year he had found what he sought but, like his mentor had told him many times: “You can leave the spy game, but the spy game never leaves you.” Ryan had thought it corny and ridiculous, but John Stapleton, as wrinkled and chain-smoking as he had been, was right. It never left; that desire to do what had to be done. Now they had a new mission, a vital mission. One that could either save the world or doom it to an even worse fate.

  “I’m tired too,” Cal whispered. “For three years I dreamt of seeing you again. Explaining why and how we could win. Have we underestimated Offenheim?”

  “I don’t think so. We know what we’re up against now.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Cal rubbed a hand over her head and rested it against his shoulder.

  Ryan looked out over the Pacific Ocean again. Despite his doubts, he was glad to be heading home. He kissed his wife on the cheek. “Whatever happens next, I’m happy I got to be with you again. I hope we get to see Zanzi soon.”

  He looked across the cabin. Sofia was busy tapping on her tablet, scribbling notes into her notebook. He reached up and dimmed the lights, hoping to get some rest before the operation ahead.
<
br />   Twenty-Four

  Portland, Oregon

  There was nothing in either the bedroom or the bathroom that could assist Zanzi to escape. The windows only had sheets of plywood screwed over them, but she couldn’t get enough force behind her kicks to dislodge the timber, and she had nothing to pry them off with. No tools, nothing. She even looked inside the toilet cistern, checking to see if it was an old ballcock system that had a small piece of copper, but it was a modern system, the mechanism made from plastic. The rooms were bare, only containing beds, musty blankets, and discarded food wrappers.

  Zanzi lay down, running through her mind all that she’d noted. The windows were out. What then? She eyed the hinges on the door but discounted them immediately – she had nothing to hammer the pins out with. The walls were sheetrock. A couple of well-placed kicks and she could make a hole large enough, but the biker standing guard would hear it. An idea sparked in her mind. Zanzi jolted up and went back into the bathroom. Yes. Above the shower was an extractor fan. It, like the drywall, was plastered in mold. She stood on her tiptoes and tested the ceiling. It was soft and spongy and gave way with minimal pressure. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the bundle of wet towels and placed them in the shower. Praying that the party noise would be enough to drown out her efforts, she punched the ceiling out around the extractor fan. Little pieces at first, then larger ones as her confidence at not being discovered grew. Five minutes later, she had a hole large enough to climb through into the ceiling cavity.

  “Josie?”

  The scientist stirred and rolled onto her side. She rolled her shoulder, testing it. She nodded, apparently satisfied that it had healed. “What are you doing in there?”