by Adams, P R
He loved Molly more than anything. He thought of his child growing inside her. He thought of his career, of the integrity he embraced as a soldier.
When the shower shut off, he tensed.
She stood in the bathroom doorway, toned arms bracing her supple form in the frame. She could have been drawn from his deepest fantasies.
She crossed to the bed, trailing steam, and pulled back the covers. He started to ask her to leave, but she reached for him and pulled him to her. She kissed him, and he knew he was deceiving himself. She pulled his towel away, and her heat melted the last of his resistance.
Sunset cast long shadows as they turned off Casuarina Drive onto a dirt trail. Just outside the driver-side window, waves rolled onto the beach, then dragged themselves back into the deeps. The current tore detritus from the shore, then abandoned it to float aimlessly on the surface.
The HuCorp rental car bounced and shook, creaking in protest as the dirt trail turned onto a long-abandoned gravel path. Rimes wasn’t sure the little car would make it.
He stared out his window.
A security camera was partially hidden inside some scrub brush by the road. It was the first operational piece of equipment he’d seen for kilometers.
Rimes watched it through the rear window, risking a momentary glance at Kleigshoen. She looked at him triumphantly. Rimes looked away. Metcalfe remained focused on the narrow path ahead.
“I haven’t seen anyone for a good five minutes,” Rimes said.
“This section took the brunt of Cyclone Jonathan, and they never rebuilt it.” Metcalfe's voice was cold. “It’s a shame. It used to be so pretty.” He glanced into the rear-view mirror.
Kleigshoen looked away.
Rimes said, “There were some people in those shacks as we came into Nightcliff.”
“Immigrants. Squatters,” Metcalfe replied. “People move into your territory. If you don’t do something about it, they ruin everything. We did everything we could to help them, but … there’s not much use trying anymore. They made their choice, right, Jack?”
Metcalfe swerved around a corner, and a cratered parking lot came into view, empty except for an older, rust-red EEC sedan in the center.
Three buildings, one of them surprisingly intact, stood beyond the broken stretch of asphalt. The crumpled remains of an Olympic-sized pool lay in shadows across a ruined lawn.
Their HuCorp sputtered and came to a halt next to the sedan.
“Is this a secure facility?” Kleigshoen leaned forward. “Brent, are you sure about this?”
Metcalfe’s jaw muscles clenched. He exited the car without uttering a word.
Rimes got out of the car. His memories were a mess now, a tangle of the last few hours, the last few days, the moment. He wanted so badly to be with Molly in their modest little apartment. He wanted so badly never to have been with Kleigshoen, never to have been pulled into the whirlpool of passion, physicality, and political games he thought he’d escaped years ago.
“Brent, is this—are we using aggressive interrogation techniques? Is that why we're out in the middle of nowhere, away from legal authorities?”
Metcalfe thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “Careful now, Jack. We’re all sacrificing a small part of our souls here, aren’t we? What’s a little torture in the grand scheme of things?”
Kleigshoen closed her car door. “Brent—”
Metcalfe turned on her. “What, you think his hands are clean? He’s no better than me. Take a knife to someone, put a bullet in them, poke an eye out—we do what we have to do. Don’t we? Am I right, Jack? Whatever it takes for the mission?”
“That’s enough,” Kleigshoen said. Pain and anger played across her face.
Rimes rubbed the heel of a palm against his forehead. “Dana's right. This stinks. We need better security.”
Metcalfe stormed across the parking lot, nearly going head over heels as a patch of asphalt collapsed beneath his feet.
Kleigshoen started to run after him, but Rimes hooked her around the waist.
“Dana, wait.”
She glared at Rimes. “He’s not thinking straight. He could kill Kwon, and we’d lose everything.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Rimes said calmly. “I think he may be thinking straighter than any of us right now. I need you to talk to me.”
Kleigshoen pushed his hand away. “Talk to you about what?”
“This thing you’ve got going on with him. Do you even care that he’s in love with you?”
Kleigshoen recoiled. “Brent?”
“That’s why he’s been such a jerk.”
“He’s like a father to me, Jack. What you’re saying is … sick.”
Rimes sighed and lowered his head until his chin rested on his chest. “Dana, he doesn’t see you that way. He feels betrayed.”
Kleigshoen looked away, scanning the shoreline, the twisted, stunted palm trees covering the lawn. “I … it was never … supposed to be like that.”
Metcalfe had disappeared into the one standing building.
“When this is all over, you need to talk with him.” Rimes kicked up a piece of asphalt with his shoe and flipped it over. Beetles crawled away. “What happened can’t happen again. I’m married, Dana. Happily married, if Molly will forgive me. You and I had our chance a long time ago, and it didn’t work out. We need to move on.”
Kleigshoen stormed off toward the building.
Rimes almost laughed at the insanity of what he’d allowed himself to fall into, but the fear of losing the thing that mattered most to him in the world silenced that impulse.
What's a little torture in the scheme of things?
He scanned the shoreline and the road they'd taken in, then walked around the sedan and headed toward the building.
A plainclothes cop of apparent Indian descent met them at the door. “G’day.” He waved them through to a large common room, then closed the door behind them and casually leaned against it.
The room was empty except for an ancient but functional sofa and matching chair. Water bottles rested on an end table between the two pieces of furniture. Their hollow shadows stretched across a heavily scored wooden floor. The room opened onto a kitchen area partitioned by a long island.
A Chinese man with a pockmarked face and a burly Indonesian woman with spiked, gray-streaked hair stood in the common room across from a large bay window. The woman limped slightly as she stepped forward to shake their hands. Rimes noticed she had a thicker sole on her right shoe than her left.
“Sergeant Unu,” the woman said. She nodded toward the Chinese and Indian men as she spoke. “This is my partner, Constable Chang. Constable Desai brought you in. Your friend’s down there with Inspector Djerrkura,” Unu said, nodding down a dark hallway. “First room on the right.”
Constable Chang coughed into his hand, and Sergeant Unu gave him a look.
“He’s right, I should tell you. This guy—”
Gunfire drowned out her words.
25
7 March 2164. Darwin, Australia.
* * *
Automatic gunfire shattered the bay window; shards of glass sprayed across the floor. Rimes knocked Kleigshoen to the ground. Unu dropped into a squat, then Chang. They drew their weapons.
Desai spun. Another burst, and several rounds punched through the front door, taking him full in the chest. He staggered for a moment, then collapsed.
Rimes crawled forward to check on Desai. Unu and Chang crawled toward the far wall, Chang trying to avoid the glass shards covering the floor, but Unu staying low.
A loud crack sounded. Chang quietly gasped, fell, and stopped moving.
“Sniper,” Rimes called.
Desai was in shock, twitching and bleeding. Rimes pulled Desai’s pistol from its holster and searched for any spare magazines, then skidded it across the floor to Kleigshoen.
Then Rimes crawled to Chang, blood pooling beneath the back of his ruined head. Rimes pulled Chang close enough to grab his gun and spare
magazines.
“I’ve heard four shooters,” Unu called from the corner. She glanced out the shattered window then over at Rimes. “Chang?”
“Dead,” Rimes said. “And Desai’s not going to make it. Can you raise someone?”
Unu nervously dug her earpiece out of her shirt pocket and placed it on her ear. She tried a few messages then shook her head. “They must be jamming somehow.”
Rimes crawled back to Kleigshoen, who was now at the hallway entry. Djerrkura and Metcalfe were on their stomachs behind her.
“Four shooters, probably more,” Rimes said. “One sniper, three automatic weapons. The sniper and two others to the south, one to the north. We’ve got two folks down so far.”
Djerrkura closed his eyes and shook his head, muttering something beneath his breath.
Metcalfe crawled backwards, out of sight. A few moments later, something crashed to the floor. Rimes trained his pistol on the shadows, relaxing when Metcalfe returned.
“I knocked our friend’s chair over,” Metcalfe said. “Don’t want him taking a stray round.”
“We need to find that sniper,” Rimes said. “He’ll pick us off or keep us pinned down until the others are on top of us. Either way, we’re dead.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Metcalfe said grimly.
Rimes nodded, then looked at Djerrkura. “This place have a bathroom?”
“Down the hall. Take the first right, then the third left.”
Rimes crawled down the hall, stopping a moment to check on Kwon. Kwon lay on the ground with his eyes closed.
Bright-colored synthetic rope criss-crossed his chest and legs, and carbon fiber restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. He opened his eyes and glowered at Rimes, baring teeth. It was crude, but probably effective.
Those eyes. The amber coloring, the shape. Is that part of the alien influence?
Another round of automatic fire echoed from the hallway, and Rimes continued down the hall and into the bathroom.
The bathroom had a small window on the south wall. He belly-crawled across the floor until he reached it, then looked back toward the bathroom’s north wall.
A cracked and grimy mirror stretched over three sinks, reflecting the shadowy stalls, the sinks—and the window. It wasn’t perfect, but it let Rimes see outside.
Darkness was approaching fast. At least the attack had come at twilight rather than later in the evening; it might mean the attackers lacked experience and sophisticated gear.
However, the terrain couldn’t have been worse if he’d pulled it from a nightmare. Several twisted palm trees and clumps of weeds cropped up between the building and an embankment. He could make out the very top of the embankment, but not much beyond. The sniper could be anywhere.
Sudden movement caught his eye. Two men with assault rifles were sliding down the embankment, heading for the building’s northeastern side.
Rimes shouted a warning down the hallway. “Two Tangos coming in from the northeast.”
Metcalfe shouted back, “Got it.”
As the gunmen disappeared from sight, Rimes watched for any further flicker of movement, any glint of the dying sunlight off a sniper scope or rifle barrel. He saw nothing.
He shifted position.
Still nothing.
But as he shifted again, he saw it: the sniper was repositioning, moving along the embankment top. Rimes couldn’t believe his luck. He watched until the sniper settled into his new position behind a stunted tree, then returned down the hallway to Djerrkura and Metcalfe. They were pressed against opposite sides of the hallway, Djerrkura watching the main entry door, Metcalfe the hallway.
“The sniper’s behind the stunted tree to the west. Those gunmen are going to come in through the eastern side. Is there a door or an easy access point along the eastern wall?”
“Yeah, sure, the service door,” Djerrkura said. “Opens onto the kitchen.”
“Metcalfe, you and Djerrkura need to set up an ambush there.” Rimes handed Chang’s pistol and magazines to Metcalfe. “When the first one comes in, the other gunman will probably try the door we came through. We’ll deal with him.”
Metcalfe wiped sweat from his upper lip as Djerrkura jogged away in a half-crouch down the hall. Metcalfe looked at Kleigshoen, then back at Rimes. “Jack—”
Rimes nodded. “She’ll be okay. I promise.”
Metcalfe smiled ruefully toward Kleigshoen, who was staring out the shattered window, then squat-jogged after Djerrkura.
Rimes belly-crawled to Kleigshoen. “You catch that?” he whispered.
“It’s about to get fun,” Kleigshoen said with a quavering voice. She nervously brushed curls off her forehead.
Rimes studied her for a moment. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” Kleigshoen gave a quick nod. “It’s been a while since I've been pinned down like this, that’s all. Any idea who these guys are?”
“They’re not wearing any special gear,” Rimes said. “South Asian? They could be locals.”
“Mercs?”
“Probably.” He twisted around. “Unu, any metacorp field teams operate in this area normally?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Unu said, her voice shaking. “T-Corp, sometimes HuCorp. Mostly mercenaries, though. Brotherhood and the like.”
“Mercs it is,” Rimes said. Brotherhood of Arms. Not the threat they used to be, but bad enough. “They’ll probably come through any minute now. Cover the door and stay where the sniper can’t see you.”
“No worries,” Unu said. “I’m not moving.”
Rimes belly-crawled to the front door, hugging the north wall as tight as he could. By staying atop the embankment, the sniper had limited his view into the room. Unu was safe so long as she stayed in the corner, and Kleigshoen was hidden in the hallway.
As he crawled past the door, he saw that Desai had stopped breathing, although his blood continued to spread on the floor. Rimes stopped just beyond the door and sat up, his heels beneath his butt and his hand pressed against the wall for balance. He kept his eyes level with the knob. He would be the first thing the gunman would see when he came through the door.
Surprise was all he had going for him.
Suddenly, the knob twitched and started to turn. Rimes held a hand up and pointed at the door.
Gunfire erupted at the eastern end of the building. An instant later, the door opened, and the gunman stepped in, barrel lowered.
Rimes launched himself and grabbed the barrel, putting his whole weight into the maneuver. His momentum pushed the two of them out the door.
The gunman tried to jerk the gun free, squeezing off a burst in the process. The rounds thudded into the ground. The barrel heated up, and Rimes gritted his teeth in pain. He shoved the gunman back, straining to keep the barrel pointed away and down, pushing until the gunman lost his footing, then driving a shoulder into his face and neck until he released the gun and tried to push Rimes off. Rimes pinned the gun between them with his hip, then pummeled the other man’s face, breaking first his nose, then his cheek.
Rimes pinned the assault rifle to the ground with a shin, then scrambled onto the man’s chest and pinning him down, all the while punching and throwing elbows against ever-weakening attempts to fend off the attacks. Finally, the other man's arms went limp.
Rimes freed the assault rifle and squatted low over the unconscious form. Sporadic gunfire sounded from the east. Rimes hastily retrieved two magazines, a knife, and an earpiece, then he delivered a swift kick to the bloody head, and retreated to the front of the building.
He stopped at the front door, then slipped the primitive earpiece on, adjusting it as best he could and setting it to mute. He listened to the earpiece intently.
It was quiet.
“Jack?” Kleigshoen whispered from the front room.
“Dana, you two make your way through this door to the parking lot,” Rimes called. “Stay low. Don’t go for the cars. We need to eliminate the gunmen on the eastern s
ide of the building. Wait for me to engage the sniper.”
“O-okay.”
Rimes sneaked along the north wall until he had a view of the embankment. He scanned for any sign of the sniper, then squat-walked along the west wall.
He stopped at the sight of the stunted tree, dropped flat, and brought the assault rifle up.
He scanned the area through the rifle’s sights, waiting.
Suddenly, the sniper moved, tracking to Rimes’s left. Rimes fired. The sniper rifle sounded simultaneously.
The sniper pitched backwards. Kleigshoen screamed.
Rimes jogged for the front door, his heart racing wildly. “Dana!” The roar of an engine drowned out his voice.
Car. Approaching from the east.
Rimes rounded the north wall in time to see Kleigshoen collapse in the doorway. His heart skipped a beat.
He ran to her side.
Tears welled in her eyes. Blood—and clots of other matter—dripped from her face and hair. Rimes wiped her face. She was fine.
Next to her, Unu’s skull had been shattered.
“He shot her,” Kleigshoen sobbed in a whisper. “She was right next to me and he shot her.”
Rimes stood. Too many times to count, he'd survived a close call only to watch someone else die, and he'd never gotten past the survivor's guilt.
The engine was closer now. He could hear brakes squealing. Voices shouted over each other in the earpiece. Someone said something about movement.
The gunfire to the east had stopped. Rimes cautiously jogged east along the north wall, stopping at the edge.
He heard a weak choking sound nearby and attempted to sneak a peek, but a round thudded into the corner, spraying his face with splinters.
Two men were sliding Kwon into the back of a large HuCorp car.
Rimes looked again. A third man with a pistol squatted behind the front of the car. He fired at Rimes but missed.
The car’s engine roared. Blood trickled into Rimes’s eyes. He popped around the corner just long enough to fire a burst toward the gunman.
He heard a satisfying howl, but then the car accelerated away.