Metal clanged.
Scaffold sagged.
Screams echoed.
Several Black Skulls fell into the river below and a couple thumped onto the road with a sickening sound like a wet sack, their cries fading as the nanites healed them. The remaining commandos fired, but the latticework of tubing prevented their shots from reaching their targets.
Two minutes later, the tired group reached the construction office.
“Zanzi, Tilly, dress Reid’s wounds. Jacqui, find us a car. Something silent, like a hybrid. Quickly.” Lisa said. She pulled out her sidearm and aimed it back into the scaffold. The Black Skulls were moving carefully, testing each platform before stepping onto it.
Jacqui ran ahead, checking cars. Her figure flitted from one to another. It didn’t take her long to find one with keys in the ignition.
The group crammed into a Toyota Prius. Reid struggled but took the passenger seat. Jacqui slipped behind the wheel.
“Keep it under fifteen miles per hour,” Reid grunted, wheezing out breaths. “The petrol engine kicks in when it hits seventeen miles per hour.”
Roaring V8 engines pursued the Prius, and headlights stabbed through the night like guards seeking an escaped prisoner. They nipped down tight alleys, ducked behind wheeled trash bins, parked behind abandoned cars. All the while the Black Skulls searched, their spotlights probing. Another SUV joined, and another, pulling the noose tighter. Jacqui was driving in circles. Whenever they thought they had an opening, an SUV would appear, and they were forced to hide again.
“How do they keep finding us?” Zanzi said.
“Like they’re tracking us,” Lisa murmured. She looked at Tilly and Zanzi. “One of you has a tracking device. It’s the only way.”
“In there,” Reid said. He winced as he stretched out his right arm, pointing to a parking garage.
Jacqui pulled in and drove to the third level. She stopped in a space between two minivans and switched off the engine.
“Tilly and I will lead them away. There’s no use getting everyone caught. It’s us they want. They don’t want you guys,” Zanzi said.
“Maybe not before, but they do now,” Lisa said. “I lost you once, I’m not losing you again. Like you said on the bridge, we have to stay together.”
Tilly rubbed the side of her neck, just below her left ear. She looked at Zanzi and then at Lisa. “We used to have this cat called Pickles. He was lovely. All colors everywhere, and long whiskers that would tickle your face when you hugged and kissed him. Pickles and I used to lie in the sun and read together, but she was a fighter too. Any cat that came in the little cat door, and Pickles’ tail would go whoosh and puff out.” She rubbed her neck again, tracing the curvature of her spine.
“Why are you telling us that, Tilly?” Zanzi said.
The V8 engines roared through the parking garage, the sound reverberating off the cement walls and floor.
“Dad got sick of other cats coming inside and put in this special door. Pickles had to get a chip under her skin. Alba gave me one at The Eyrie. She said I was like a naughty cat that needed to be tracked.”
Zanzi felt under Tilly’s ear. She nodded at Lisa. “Tilly, we need to take that out. It’s going to hurt, but you’ll have to be brave for me.”
Reid, gasping in the front seat, passed her his knife. Zanzi held it up and Reid heated the blade with his zippo lighter.
SUV engines roared.
Tires screeched.
Zanzi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She focused her mind, pretending she was back in the lab and just taking a sample.
Tilly bit into the fabric of her collar as Zanzi made a small incision and pried the chip out. It was the size of a grain of rice. She handed the knife to Lisa and pulled back her brown hair.
“Now me,” Zanzi said.
Lisa found the chip. When that was done, she crushed both under her boot just as the Black Skulls’ SUVs squealed up the ramp.
“Out, go!” Lisa shouted.
Zanzi scrambled after Tilly, following Lisa, Jacqui, and the hobbling Reid into the stairwell.
Thirty-Three
Makushin Bay, Aleutian Islands
Ryan hated the cold. The older he got, the more he disliked winter. One would think, living in the Pacific Northwest, he would’ve grown used to it. But there were subtle differences to cold. Some climates had damp cold, others a biting cold that chilled one to the bone. Some, like the Aleutian Islands, were just nasty. It was the kind of cold that if you got lost outside, you’d likely die from exposure in minutes. It got through the thick layers, seeped into your bones, and made you shiver.
The wind had picked up to gale force while he was downstairs and it whipped around Ryan, buffeting his thick jacket. He jammed his hands deeper into the pockets and stomped his feet.
The communications equipment was a mess. The main radio mast was a twisted wreck. The top third had fallen over and smashed onto the chopper, bending the rotor blades.
Booth scuffed his shoes in the thickening snow. “That’s just great, man. That’s just great.”
Ryan agreed. The damaged chopper was a kick in the guts. After everything they had been through, now they had a long hike through unforgiving terrain to look forward to.
The pilots had been haphazard, placing the four charges on random dishes and aerials. The cell phone tower was unharmed, but all the dishes had suffered catastrophic damage. They lay in a heap of tangled metal. Wires and jagged shards of plastic peppered the snow.
Sofia had said she needed one dish, just one. They picked through the debris, turning over the twisted metal – some of which was still hot. Booth called out. He was lifting an intact dish. The wires connecting it to the transmitter housing had been severed, but other than that, it looked operational.
They set about rewiring it. Dudek had been confident of defeating The Nameless. If he hadn’t, he’d have blown the station and flown away. He’d had no reason to be pedantic about explosive placement, to The Nameless’ benefit.
“Where does this go?” Ryan asked, holding up the coaxial wire.
“In that housing. Haven’t you ever set up a dish at home?”
“That’s what the guy is for. I pay him money. He makes the TV work.”
Booth shook his head and screwed the thick wire into the board. He gave it a couple of tugs before screwing the weatherproof plate back in place. “That should do it.”
Ryan pulled the hood of his jacket tighter, trying to block out the howling wind. “How’s that, Sofia?”
“All good. We’re back in business. You’ll need to get the dish higher and point it northwest at an eighty-degree angle.”
“On it.”
Looking around, Ryan could only see one possibility. The satellite dishes had been grouped together on a raised platform, which was now a tangled mess of metal. Off to one side was a strange, white, domed shape. He had seen larger versions at Air Force bases in Nevada, and giant ones on a mission in China. “We need to get this up there,” he shouted over the wind, and gestured with his head.
“In this weather?” Booth grumbled. “I’ll look for a ladder.”
Ryan dragged the dish closer to the white dome, straining with the weight. He checked his satchel for duct tape, something he always carried. It had a thousand uses, and this was a perfect example.
“Ryan, do you copy?” Cal said. Her voice was faint as the radio hissed.
“Barely. Go ahead.”
“I got activity on the radar. Choppers, from the looks of it. ETA forty-five minutes.”
“Damn. Any idea who?”
“Identification transponders are off.”
“That can’t be good.”
“Probably Black Skulls.”
“Can you reach the Nimitz and see if they’re from there?”
“Avondale is trying, and Munroe as well, but with this storm, communication is going to be difficult at best. I’m afraid we’re on our own.”
Ryan turned and gazed out at the
Bering Sea. It was charcoal in color, boiling and swirling, whipped up by the storm. Did OPIS know exactly where they were? Had Dudek informed his superiors, or was he working alone?
As usual, too many questions with no answers. He stared at the damaged Seahawk. Surely it had some sort of transponder the Navy could home in on. Maybe he could alert the Nimitz that way? But first they needed to know who was friendly.
Booth returned with a ladder, and they hoisted the satellite dish onto the roof of the dome. Struggling against the wind and snow, Ryan used the entire roll of tape. As an extra precaution, they secured the feet with tie-down straps they’d found in the station.
“Satellite is up,” Ryan said.
“Good. Now adjust the transmitter until I say stop,” Sofia said.
It took a bit of wiggling, but they got the dish as Sofia wanted it. Ryan nudged his comms again.
“I don’t fancy taking on Black Skulls if that’s who’s in the choppers. We have limited firepower. I vote we barricade ourselves until we complete our mission.”
“What about the bodies?”
“I have an idea for that.” He turned to Booth. “We’ll have to set up a crime scene.”
They dragged the corpses of the pilots, the four marines, the agents, and the Siphons into the weather station. They placed the bodies in a haphazard pattern, doing their best to make it look like a fight had taken place.
Ryan gagged as he cut open the stomach of one of the marines and pulled his intestines out. He lay the body of a Siphon next to it. He hated to desecrate the soldier’s remains. It went against everything he fought for. But sometimes unpleasant tasks had to be done, and during times like these, this was crucial. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the deceased before moving to the next task.
“I don’t think the pilots should be inside,” Booth said. “It’s not logical. Why would they be in here? And where’s Dudek?”
“I dumped him outside the fence, near the Seahawk.”
The two men stared at each other. After working together for so long, each knew what the other was thinking. Without a word, they dragged the pilots back outside to the damaged helicopter, placed their sidearms in their hands, and positioned Dudek’s body a couple of feet away.
The scene wasn’t in any way perfect, but to the untrained eye it looked convincing enough. Ryan hoped it would give them enough time to complete their mission. He glanced at his watch: 0315 flashed back. A little under three hours. Thunder and lightning cracked in the distance, masking the thumps of the two choppers’ rotors. Ryan scanned the horizon, searching for them. With the snow falling in thick flurries, he hoped it would be enough to disguise their presence.
Allie was waiting for them as they exited the elevator. She opened a panel next to the call button and pulled a switch. It looked like an old-fashioned circuit breaker.
“Safety protocols. This locks down this level. We can’t leave, and no one can get in.”
“Perfect,” Ryan said. Booth and Allie embraced, wincing slightly at their still-healing wounds. With everything that had been going on, Ryan had ignored his own throbbing pain. Now that he stood still, the pain returned in waves. He sat down next to Cal and Sofia and swallowed a couple of painkillers.
“How are we looking?”
Cal pointed at a screen. She had the station’s cameras pointing toward the northeast. The choppers were now smudges against the strobing skies. “Let’s hope your ruse works.”
“It only needs to fool them for another couple of hours,” Ryan muttered. “Sofia?”
“I’m not liking our chances. Avondale’s tracked down all ReinCorp’s satellites. They have over a hundred in total, including the three main ones. He’s still working on YamTech. We focused on North America.”
“What’s this cluster here?” Ryan pointed on the screen.
“Weather satellites. Telecommunications for broadcasting sports, news, etcetera.”
Ryan tapped his finger against his chin. He gazed at the screen. Sofia had a red line showing the predicted trajectory of the LK3 satellite and its collision course with ReinCorp’s. They were going to be twenty minutes too late. There were dozens of satellites whizzing by that they had to avoid. Or did they?
“This is going to sound crazy, but what if we deliberately hit other satellites into theirs?”
“How’s that going to work? There are way too many variables.”
“Like a snooker shot, or eight-ball. We hit that cluster there and send it spinning off. We have a better chance of stopping the second wave that way. And we use our second satellite to take out the two satellites down here. If I’m reading this right. Ours are at a higher altitude?”
“Correct, but then we have no more satellites.”
“So what? If it means stopping this madness, we must take a chance. I mean, that’s what we all signed up for, isn’t it?”
“A slim chance is better than no chance,” Cal said.
Sofia sighed and rolled her shoulders. She had a chat window open, communicating with Avondale. She wrote their plan. His reply fired back in seconds. “Yes. Do it.”
It was now a waiting game for The Nameless. Wait and see if the Black Skulls would buy their staged scene. Wait and see if they had any success with, quite frankly, a ludicrous plan. And wait and see if, by doing so, they managed to stop the second wave in North America.
Thirty-Four
Portland, Oregon
On they ran through the abandoned streets, around cars that had mounted the sidewalk and crashed through shop windows. Past motorcycles lying in the street with piles of ash next to them. Past bags of goods scattered by vermin as they scavenged for food.
Zanzi ducked into yet another alley and risked a peek over her shoulder. Sergeant Reid had volunteered to lead the Black Skulls away, back toward the river. His sporadic gunshots echoed through the empty streets. She said a prayer for him and hoped he survived. She liked the tall soldier. His movements had been methodical and precise as he dispatched the Black Skulls on the bridge, but she had detected warmth in his eyes. She had been around military all her life. Some soldiers had that hard look, like they had seen too much death, too much evil. They had become desensitized to it all. Those men and women didn’t know how to switch off. It was with them all the time. Others, like Sergeant Reid, had something to live for, a life waiting for them after their service. Or perhaps he was just better at hiding the trauma. She brushed away her thoughts and refocused on the road ahead.
Lisa urged her on with a pull. “Don’t stop.” She pushed them harder, winding around strip malls, through parks, and deeper into the suburbs. After thirty minutes of running, she brought them to a halt.
“This is an LK3 safe house. I’m going to check the front,” Lisa said. She disappeared around the side of the house.
Tilly and Jacqui gasped beside Zanzi, sucking in breaths. Sweat glistened on their foreheads.
“I’m sick of running from these guys,” Zanzi said.
Tilly smiled in agreement, breathing hard.
“I’m ashamed to say that you guys are fitter than me. Flo Jo will be turning in her grave. And to think I was All State champion,” Jacqui said.
“You ran track?” Zanzi asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Oregon State Champ three years running. Eight hundred and the mile.”
The back door cracked open. “All clear,” Lisa said. “Keep it down. We’ll refuel and arm ourselves. We leave in ten minutes. Zanzi, with me.”
Zanzi joined Lisa in the garage. A gray minivan was parked inside. “We stocked the safe houses with these a couple of years ago. Best way to blend in. Look like your typical soccer mum taking her kids to sports.”
“Smart. If we keep our speed down and lights off, we might just make it to the tower.”
“That’s the idea. Do you think Tilly and Jacqui will be okay? I’m reluctant to put them in any danger,” Lisa said. She flipped the lid off a crate she had pulled out from the crawlspace and handed Zanzi an MP5, a combat vest,
and full magazines.
“After what they’ve both been through over the last few days, if they want to help, then I say who are we to deny them that?” Zanzi sat down and loaded ammo into her P229 and checked over the MP5. She looked up at Lisa. “Tilly comes across as a bit weird, a little eccentric, but she’s proven herself to be one resilient young woman. If it wasn’t for her, we’d never have escaped The Eyrie. Those bikers were sick bastards, matching Rabids against innocent survivors, people so traumatized that when I tried to free them they were frozen stiff. Unwilling to move. Jacqui survived in that den for days, using only her wits. I don’t think we’re going to find a more determined pair.”
“Good. That’s what I’d hoped. Avondale said Black Skulls attacked the bikers’ HQ?”
“I suspect it was to rescue Dr. Josie Lahm. She was with us. She was Harriet’s mum, and for a time she was going to help me infiltrate the Eyrie.”
“On your own?”
Zanzi glanced at her shoes, suddenly ashamed for her bold plan. At the time of making it, anger and hate had fueled her desire. As she had walked the halls with Tilly, she had discarded scheme after scheme trying to figure out a way to take down Offenheim, but her thoughts all had the same result. Black Skulls guarded everything. She would need help. That was obvious, but in the FEMA camp, Zanzi had nothing other than her plans. Perhaps now with Lisa they could achieve something. Together.
“I didn’t know who was alive,” Zanzi said. “I tried to do what my parents would have done. Lahm, I thought she wanted the same thing.”
“She changed her mind?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe had doubts? The gang made us watch one of their cage fights. It was brutal. We witnessed the Rabids feeding on humans. Josie is a nanotechnology scientist. She helped OPIS develop the nanites. Her expertise was finding agents they could bind to, construct the nanites from, so they bind to our cells without our bodies rejecting them.”
“I’d say she succeeded. We need someone like her,” Lisa said. “With an expert of her caliber, maybe we could develop a defense. Where would the Black Skulls take her?”
Shadows of Ash (The Nameless Book 2) Page 25