by Dan Marshall
Though he felt sick, Adam tried his best to keep a calm face. He was fairly certain LaMont was bluffing, that there was no way he was getting out alive at this point anyway. Adam looked LaMont straight in the eye and said, “You can take your offer and go fu—”
“We accept.” Pavel shouted, throwing both hands in the air. Adam noticed Pavel’s left hand came back to the armrest with three fingers facing downward. The old man continued, “But only if we shake on it, money man.” A finger flicked up on the last word. Two left.
“What did you say?” LaMont asked, his eyes wide.
“I accept your offer, but only if you shake my hand,” Pavel said. “You know, to seal the deal.” Another finger up. One left.
“But you . . . you called me . . . ” LaMont trailed off, as though unsure he wanted to continue before he went on, “Never mind. Yes, let’s shake on it. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I never really wanted to kill you to begin with. You can make me ridiculous amounts of money. You are on a short list of people whose lives are too profitable to end. Your buddy here is questionable, but I’m in a generous mood. Take those fucking zappers off first, though. I don’t need that kind of headache today.”
Adam took off the knuckles and dropped them. They hit the wood floor with a clatter. LaMont looked at Pavel expectantly, and the old man brought down his hand in a closed fist to push off against the armrest. Zero. Adam pushed against the armrest with his right hand, slid his left hand into his pocket, and flicked open Dej’s device. Then he thrust his thumb against the button.
The Blues surrounding them immediately seized, then ran about in panic. LaMont looked completely shocked. As soon as his eyes left Pavel the old man drew the pistol from his pocket, raised it quickly, and fired. The noise bounced roughly off the walls and floor, final and ominous. LaMont looked down at his chest, a mix of pain and surprise painted on his face. There was no blood. He was wearing a ballistic vest.
Adam didn’t understand why LaMont and Sera didn’t seem to be affected by Dej’s device. Pavel then drew the gun tucked in his waistband, the one he had taken from the Blue in the hallway, and pulled the trigger with a hollow click. He tried again with the same result.
LaMont laughed so hard his entire chest heaved, then caught his breath and said, “Biometric trigger. Gotta love ‘em. Did you only bring one shot in your own? How quaint. Then again, I know ammo isn’t easy to come by. Fuck, that hurt. I wasn’t expecting it to hurt that much. I’ve never actually had to use this thing.”
The armed guards still ran without purpose around the room, bumping into each other and everything else. Adam had to dodge one bouncing off the side of the desk, then pushed him back toward the wall. He turned back to LaMont and asked, “Why aren’t you like them? Why didn’t Dej’s device work on your Lightcap?”
The CEO spat at the sound of Dej’s name. “Little brown piece of shit. I should have known.” LaMont opened a drawer, pulled out a small golden pistol, and pointed it at Adam before he continued. “I should shoot you right now for doing this to our men. We’ll get it fixed though. The lady and I are fine because ours operate on a separate, dedicated frequency and use a different set of command functions. That’s the case for all Metra Corp execs. Your team helped build it, in fact. Shame you don’t remember, probably would have been useful information.” He clucked his tongue.
“Now it’s what’s going to get you killed,” LaMont said. “You, Adam Redmon, are going to witness just how powerful Lightcap technology is. Sera.” He turned toward the woman seated to his right. She looked at him. “I want you to kill Doctor Troyka.”
Sera Velim said nothing but reached into a bag slung over the back of her chair. She withdrew her hand, firmly wrapped around the handle of a knife, and looked to the floor as she stood. She started to walk behind LaMont.
“Sera, you don’t have to do this!” Adam shouted. She continued, then rounded the corner of the desk toward Pavel.
Pavel stood tall and looked Sera in the eye as she drew within striking distance. Her hand swung back, the knife blade pointed forward, and Doctor Troyka said gently, “Sera, you have a choice.”
Adam’s eyes darted to LaMont, who seemed completely engrossed in what his puppet was about to do to the old man, neglecting both his attention and his aim. Without thinking, Adam dropped to the ground and grabbed the electrodusters, slipping them over the knuckles of his right hand again.
A Blue ran by. Adam sprung up to grab the panicked officer by the uniform and turned him wide to LaMont, using him as a shield. Adam heard at least three shots but felt nothing. He steered the struggling Blue into position, then tossed the man’s body aside and threw himself across the desk. Adam is still not entirely sure how he did it to this day, but his right hand connected with LaMont’s dimpled chin.
The punch alone would have left an impression, but the added boost of the electrodusters caused LaMont’s head to pop back violently. The dusters’ loud crack preceded the bumps and thuds of LaMont hitting the floor. The gun also fell and slid away from him, coming to rest a few feet away on the polished floor.
Adam rushed to Pavel, who lay at Sera’s feet. She held a knife dripping blood, dark and arterial, her expression blank. “Pavel!” Adam cried, sliding to a stop next to the old man. “Are you all right?” Velim did not appear to notice Adam’s presence. She had stabbed the doctor in the armpit. Blood coated Pavel’s shirt, the vest underneath, and the floor.
“Adam,” Pavel gasped, “You have to take Sera and go. Don’t try to order her to leave. There may be some kind of latent command that will make her attack you. Just take off her Lightcap and get out of here. I’ll be fine; don’t worry about me.” As he spoke, his breath came in small starts. He applied pressure on the wound.
Adam knew he was supposed to be brave, to say he wasn’t going to leave Pavel behind, but the man was bleeding on the floor and couldn’t be moved. Adam knew he had to leave, then or never. He stood up and said, “Goodbye, Pavel. Thank you. Keep an eye on that knocked out bastard.”
LaMont lay slumped on the floor behind his desk. Adam went over, bent down and picked up the gun, then walked back and gave it to Pavel. Adam moved behind Velim and removed her Lightcap. She started to drop, but he caught her under the arms and transferred her to his right shoulder.
“I’ll shoot him if he moves,” the old man said with a pained laugh. Pavel had taken his backpack off and was using it to support himself. He had also trained the gun on the unconscious executive. The Blues in the room continued to run aimlessly. One of them tripped over the doctor and fell into a thrashing mess on the floor. Pavel winced.
Adam nodded in agreement. The last time he saw Pavel was from behind, the man’s bald spot slowly bobbing up and down as his arm rested on his bent leg, gun in hand, aimed at Roman LaMont.
Adam carried Sera from LaMont’s office, the hallway somehow seeming longer and uphill, until he reached the turn to the right leading back to the stairwell. He had taken exactly eight steps when a lone Blue rounded the corner, coming from the direction Adam was heading.
At first, Adam thought he might be one of the Blues confounded by Dej’s device, but his movements were too precise, too sure. The guard removed all doubts by drawing his weapon and commanding, “Put her down. Get on the ground,” in an authoritative voice. The Blue wasn’t wearing a Lightcap. This must be one of the mercenaries working for LaMont, Adam thought, men with murderous talent and not even a shred of conscience. Unsure of what else to do, Adam slowly lowered Sera’s limp form to the ground. After he had gently sloughed her off his shoulder, the Blue yelled, “Now down on the ground.” Adam complied, turning his view to the left as he spread his arms and legs out on the floor, face down.
Adam could hear the man’s heavy boots moving closer. Adam held his breath and waited for a gunshot, the final sound of his existence. He heard a muffled pop from LaMont’s office, then another. Pavel. LaMont’s gun. He heard the Blue say, “What the . . . ?” but his question ended with
a sudden crunch and a wet choking noise.
Adam looked up to see a blade stuck through the Blue’s neck. Beyond these Adam saw Aria’s set face, her jaw clenched and hand wrapped in a death grip around the grip of the katana. “Hi. You took too long, and there was no one left for me to kill. Let’s go. The chopper’s running and Dej is awake,” she said, unable to stop herself from smiling.
They lifted Sera, who seemed unaware her existence had just been threatened, and made their way down the hall around the corner, to arrive at the stairwell door. “Thanks for saving us,” Adam said. “Pavel didn’t make it. Did you have any trouble getting back to the chopper?”
Aria peered around Velim’s sagging head and gave Adam an incredulous look, but she said nothing in response. They made their way up the stairs to the hangar in silence. She kicked the next door open to reveal ten dead Blues strewn around the landing pad. The JMR’s rotors idled, cutting through the air with a low swoop sound. Angry grey clouds hung silent over the open roof. Adam was thankful to notice the rain and hail had stopped.
Dej sat in the passenger section of the chopper. He gave them a weak smile and a thumbs-up sign as they approached. Aria hopped through the open door and hoisted Sera up, then Adam. She put Sera in a seat and quickly buckled her in.
Aria pulled Adam close and said, “We have to go. Come on.” She dragged him toward the cockpit. She slid into the pilot seat on the left as Adam took the co-pilot seat on the right. Aria pointed to the headphones above his head, and he put them on. “We don’t have much time,” she yelled into her mic, the loudness of her voice from the speaker painful against his ears. “We’re under fire.”
Aria didn’t need to tell Adam, because as the words left her mouth there was a telltale double ping sound, then more such sounds, suggesting bullets were peppering the helicopter. Adam then saw Blues at the door of the stairwell, their guns blazing at the chopper body. Aria grabbed something that looked to Adam like a throttle and pulled it toward her. The chopper shuddered and started to lift from the pad.
Adam also saw movement from above. The roof began to close against the cloudy streaks in the sky, the metal teeth of the skyscraper like those of a giant threatening to crush them. Aria saw it too and yelled, “Hold on.” She pulled back and to the left on the stick as her feet worked the pedals in the footwell. The chopper pitched against the sky in the same direction and lifted higher, faster. Adam thought he heard the sound of metal against metal, but the teeth of the roof rushed past their view. They were free.
Aria pushed forward on the controls and took them southwest from New Metra City, issuing commands at Adam on the headset, providing him an impromptu lesson in basic navigation. She took the chopper to what Adam assumed was its top speed. After twenty minutes of the noisiest silence he had ever experienced, Adam asked, “Where are we going?”
“D.C.” She replied. “I know a guy.”
“Who?”
She gave no response.
Adam wanted more information, but her stony gaze did not invite further inquiry. He gave up and looked out the window, watching as several towns and cities of varying size passed underneath. They didn’t speak again until Aria began to bark more orders at him to help her find a specific structure. He recognized the District of Columbia from pictures, but several of its buildings were different from what he remembered. Some were in a state of disrepair and some were fixed up, conveying a hodgepodge of modernity and dilapidation.
As if reading his mind, Aria said, “Some of these places haven’t been touched in decades. Government got out in a hurry, whole place turned into a ghost town for a bit. But people came back. We always come back.”
Adam could not believe the large steel fence and familiar façade, the semi-circle overhang surrounded and supported by a half-dozen stark bright columns. It wasn’t until they’d passed over the building and he saw the large lawn that he knew. Adam turned to Aria, though it wasn’t necessary since his voice passed through the mic to her headphones, and asked, “The White House?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
Aria looked at him for an instant, then returned her attention to the craft, which she deftly landed on the South Lawn about ten meters from the stairs. Several men rushed from the building to the chopper. Adam was relieved to see they were unarmed. Once the craft had settled, Aria flipped several switches and Adam felt the thrum of the engines start to pulse with less urgency, its frequency dropping with each beat of the rotors against air.
Adam could not help gawking at the large house in his field of view. It stood, austere and imposing, but also marked with the scars of battle. The side to his right was charred, missing a large section of wall.
Aria shed her headset and got up. Adam followed. She stopped to kneel in front of Dej, who gave her a weak smile and mouthed the word, “Go.” Sera sat unconscious beside him. At least her eyes were closed, Adam noticed. She looked peaceful, and color had begun to return to her cheeks.
Aria heaved against the door, which slid open with a grind and locked into position with a clunk. A smiling man stood on the other side, tall and mischievous, two unhappier-looking men on either side beyond him. Aria caught Adam off guard when she jumped into the man’s arms and cried, “Nemo!” The man stumbled but caught her after his back leg anchored him on the grass. She hugged him for a long time, but eventually let go and looked to Adam, who waited uncomfortably. Aria said, “This is my baby brother, Nemo Hines.” She turned back to her brother and continued, “Nemo, this is Adam Redmon. He’s clumsy sometimes, but he’s useful enough.”
Nemo grasped Adam's entire forearm, placing his own against it. Adam felt obliged to reciprocate, and once he clasped Nemo's forearm, he found his own arm pumped with abandon.
“I am glad you could join us,” Nemo said. He looked at his sister inquisitively to ask, “Pavel?” Aria gently shook her head no.
Adam said, “He didn’t make it. He sacrificed himself to take down LaMont and save me and Sera.” Nemo turned to look at Adam, who felt his face flush with shame for not carrying both Sera and Pavel to safety.
“It’s fine,” Nemo said. “I’m just glad you got Aria and Dej out safely.” Adam wanted to tell him it had happened exactly the opposite way, that Aria had been the one to help them get out, but Nemo had already turned to her and continued. “And how is Dej? Let’s go get him and this Sera person.” It seemed to Adam that Nemo had said Sera’s name with thinly veiled distrust, but he lifted himself into the helicopter before Adam had a chance to question it further.
Dej was in better shape than Sera, who was still unresponsive. Aria helped him up, his left arm slung across her shoulder and neck, and they exited the passenger compartment. Nemo moved toward Sera, and Adam helped him pick her up, thankful to have someone to help. Nemo jumped down to the ground and took Sera from Adam so he could climb down to join them. Adam then grabbed Sera’s unsupported side. They walked together in silence, behind Dej and Aria, into the White House.
The two other men took Dej and Sera to the infirmary, where a doctor would examine them, leaving Adam, Aria, and Nemo alone. After several turns and a trip through a long hallway, they went through a door into an oddly shaped room.
Adam had seen the Oval Office in pictures, and he now found himself standing in a similar room in shambles. He remembered images of different desks, but folding chairs now sat in their place, cheap sheet metal resting on a blue carpet several feet away from an emblazoned eagle of Freedom. The eagle was covered in dark stains that were the color of dried mud. Four other men stood in the room. No one made introductions.
Aria and Adam spent the next several hours briefing Nemo on their time in the Lightcap project. Adam let Aria do most of the talking. He wasn’t sure what he could add, given he barely remembered anything, and what he could recall was dream-like, disjointed, as if he had been an observer and not an active participant. Adam recounted everything he remembered, but he left out the nightmares and events he still couldn’t discern as real
or imagined.
Adam tried to look interested while Aria spoke, but had difficulty stopping his mind from wandering. Would Sera recover? Had Troyka survived? What about LaMont? Jon had let them out of LaMont’s trap. Would they be able to find him, or would he fade back into the shadows he had called his home for more than a dozen years? What would happen to Adaptech and Metra Corp now that LaMont was gone? A part of Adam was afraid to learn the answers to these questions.
A sudden awareness that silence had settled over the room interrupted Adam’s thoughts. Two sets of eyes studied him, wide and expectant. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, can you say that again?” he asked, his tongue stumbling on his words.
Adam was fairly certain Nemo rolled his eyes before he said, “I asked if you had anything else to add to what you and Aria have already said.”
“No. Aria was pretty comprehensive,” Adam said, relieved the briefing appeared to be coming to an end. Curt handshakes were given, and Nemo excused them. Nemo and Aria left together, followed by the men who had stood silently by Nemo during their meeting. Adam was left alone in the Oval Office, quiet and oppressive with its centuries of history. He sat for what felt like hours, looking out the window and reflecting on the combination of luck, coincidence, and stubbornness that had got them to this point. He was amazed they weren’t all dead.
The exhaustion of the day began to catch up with him, and Adam found himself nodding off as he gazed beyond the window. He then mustered the strength to rise from the chair, fighting gravity itself, and walk out of the room, back through the hallways and up a set of stairs. Adam found himself next to Sera’s bed in the infirmary. She looked peaceful, as if she were dreaming pleasant dreams. He pulled a chair next to her bed, sat there, and lay his head next to her hand. He fell asleep within minutes.