by S. T. Moon
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Fate of Frank Oden
Frank Oden turned off his brain and fled as quickly as he could crawl. He climbed to his feet several times but fell again and again. Twice he had to launch himself down a set of stairs just to get to the bottom. It hurt like hell, but he had so many injuries that new ones didn’t really matter at this point. If he didn’t get away from Monica, he was dead. If he got caught by a Death Angel, he was dead. If Victoria or Irene or Breaker or any of the rebels found him, he was dead.
The air cleared as the day grew warmer. He started to sweat. “Really? I have to be hot and miserable when I die?”
But I’m not going to die. Not today. Not until I kill everyone who did this to me.
He leaned against a wall and rested. His makeshift bandages were soaked with blood. He had vomit on his shirt and didn’t remember losing consciousness but was sure that he had. His head throbbed and he was thirsty.
Three men appeared at the end of the street, Samuel Abel and the brothers, Joseph and Uriah Randall.
“Now doesn’t this just suck?” Oden levered himself to his feet and staggered toward a building with a closed door.
It’d probably be locked.
He put both palms on the door and leaned; he tried to breathe without whimpering. Cascading stars interfered with his vision. His stomach convulsed. When he looked back, he saw the three men coming for him.
He wasn’t sure if they’d seen him yet, but they would. And then his day would get really bad. He laughed crazily. “This isn’t bad? How could it be worse?”
He knew the answer.
He turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. He pushed but something prevented it from opening. On a normal day, he would’ve shoved it aside with little effort.
“Frank Oden,” Abel said. “Stop right there. If you make us come in there after you, it’s going to get ugly.”
Oden leaned his forehead on the door, completely exhausted. He wanted to cry, but he wasn’t a girl. If he was going to die, why couldn’t it be at the hands of Irene or Victoria? At least they’d be easier on the eyes. He could hold visions of them in his imagination during his damnation.
“I’m not kidding,” Abel said. “A lot of my friends died today. Someone’s going to pay. Might as well be you.”
Oden shoved his way through the door. Inside, heavy furniture had been piled up to deter intruders. On the other side of the room several office workers, an old married couple, and a family of four cowered behind a counter. He struggled to understand what type of business he had entered.
Doesn’t matter. Can’t matter. What’s left for me? “What is this place?”
No one answered. He stepped forward; they retreated.
“Tear down the back door barricade, and let’s get out of here,” said a man in a suit.
The children started crying.
Abel, Joseph, and Uriah burst into the room, weapons raised.
“Get on the ground motherfucker!” Uriah shouted. A second later he winced at the young mother and her family. “Sorry ma’am. Listen, kids, sometimes grown-ups use bad language. Don’t ever say what I said.”
“It’s okay,” the middle child said. “Daddy says it all the time watching the sport holos.”
Oden tottered a few steps, trying to avoid losing his balance and collapsing. “The situation’s out of control. Let’s go someplace and talk. These people shouldn’t have to see this.”
“You’re right about that,” Abel said, glaring at Oden.
Oden knew when a man was working himself up to murder.
“What’s happening out there?” the mother asked. Neither her husband or the men in business suits said anything.
“You’re the spokesperson for these people?” Abel asked, turning away from Oden reluctantly.
“I suppose I am. We’re hungry and frightened. This has been going on for a long time and we can’t get any news. I thought there would be police to protect us. Some kind of public announcement at least,” she said.
“My name is Frank Oden, Special Agent in Charge of the Red-6 North American office.” He wanted these people to be witnesses. Maybe it would cause Abel and his goons to hesitate, maybe not. “There have been several incidents involving unlicensed war technology. We have Red-6 security forces working to contain the problem.”
“Where’s the military? Don’t our tax dollars pay for an army?”
“For foreign wars, yes.”
“But isn’t this an emergency? People are dying. Nobody cares who saves us, we just want to be safe. We want our children to be safe.”
“Letting the military run wild is dangerous,” Oden said.
“How is that different from an army of corporate mercenaries? If anything, I’d think that our government would have better control over the army than privately paid soldiers,” the woman said.
“She’s absolutely correct.” The businessman decided to enter the discussion. He stepped up briskly as though it had occurred to him letting the civilians, probably his clients, take the risks, might cost him in the long run. If there was a long run.
“We’re taking SAC Oden back to headquarters. He needs medical attention. When we get there, we’ll send a team to check on you,” Abel said.
Oden’s heart sank. He didn’t want to leave but didn’t have a choice. They escorted him outside and away from the civilians.
The street was abandoned.
“Whose headquarters are you taking me to?” he asked.
“The prisoner is running,” Abel said.
Oden stopped. “What the hell are you talking about, Abel?”
“I didn’t think he’d be this fast, with all of his injuries,” Uriah said.
Oden couldn’t run if he wanted to. “You told those civilians you’re taking me back to headquarters.”
Abel sneered. “Yeah, and thanks for dragging them into this. Having witnesses might make things difficult for us, but it won’t save you.”
Oden pulled against Uriah and Joseph’s hold. In his current condition, they were ten times stronger than he was. For the briefest instant, he wanted to quit, give up, let them kill him. They’d been fighting the Death Angels longer than he had and probably had at least as many injuries, but they’d had medical attention and they had a mission. And they knew they weren’t going to die before they killed him right here in the street.
It was hard to get motivated when all hope was lost.
He looked around for an escape route: an alley, a manhole cover, a building he could dart into. It was useless. His options were gone.
“You know why I did this?” he said.
Abel clench his fist, so enraged he couldn’t speak for several seconds. “Actually, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it? Why would you release all these killer machines into the city? Aren’t there other ways to justify your private army? You could’ve just staged a small incident, then pushed the propaganda until one of your political cronies had to give you a special waiver.”
“That was an option,” Oden said. He really didn’t care at this point. “Unfortunately, one of my competitors used it first. I had to do this or play second fiddle to him forever.”
“You killed all these people and destroyed the city, ended three hundred years of peace and prosperity just so you could be the top dog?” Abel was incredulous.
“We need to kill this guy,” Joseph said.
“I’ll do it,” Uriah said.
“There’s a patrol coming.” Joseph hooked a thumb.
Abel grabbed Oden by the front of his shirt and drove him into a doorway. The Randall brothers followed, keeping eyes out for the patrol.
“Stop! You can’t do this!” Oden screamed. “Help me! Someone has to help me!”
“It’s too late for that. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison than see you walk free,” Abel said.
“No need for that,” Oden said levelly.
Abel shook him by the shirt, slamming him against the interior w
all.
Oden snaked Abel’s backup weapon from his left hip. It was a small gun, but perfectly adequate to shoot Abel twice at point blank range and drive off the Randall brothers. He doubted he’d killed them, so he ran out the back door.
When he hit the street, he found himself in the middle of a… discussion between Victoria, Breaker, and Irene.
* * *
Hanson formed his volunteers into a column and marched them toward the highway running through the valley.
Long ago, civilians had been able to travel though these mountains on a whim. Now the multilane road was reserved for maintenance crews headed to the hydroelectric plant deep in the heart of the craggy range. Much of the region’s power was drawn from the old dam. There were others, of course, but this alone was big enough to illuminate hundreds of square miles of the grid.
Most of the troops had never seen the lights. They stayed in the valley or went deeper into the wilderness when they felt the need to explore. He’d come here every year since his son left. Jonathan had been an idealistic youth, but his principles hadn’t enabled him to take mainstream society by the throat.
Too stubborn for his own good. That boy was trouble. Hanson knew it and loved him for it.
“You thinking about your son?” Donnie asked.
Hanson nodded.
Donnie smiled. “Course, he’s probably the reason all this started.”
“Probably,” Hanson said. “Get back to the stragglers and see what they need to keep them moving. I don’t care if they fall out at this point. They’ll just go home. Make some excuse about how they couldn’t keep up or whatever to get out of this war.”
“Doubt that will happen. We’re all volunteers. This has been a long time coming.”
Hanson felt old. Yesterday he had carried a deer back to camp, just threw it over his shoulders after field dressing it and took it home. Now it seemed like too much just to walk a few miles with no load to speak of.
“I don’t disagree,” he said. “But I’d always hoped it would be a few generations down the line. It wasn’t what Quinn and Jenna told us that convinced me we need to do this.”
“Horrible stories. I’m worried they’ll never be right in the head. Is it wrong for me to say I don’t want them living among us?” Donnie asked.
“Ungenerous. But I know what you mean.” Hanson adjusted his backpack. “I went to the lodge and searched it. Their security was shit. They probably assumed no one out here can read or reboot a computer. That party that Irene Vail slaughtered was doing a lot more than having an orgy. They were celebrating.”
Donnie’s face blanched. “I’m not sure I want to know what they were celebrating, but I bet you’re about to tell me.”
“Expansion. Unless we want to move every village in the valley to Utah, this is our only choice. Guerrilla warfare, as old as humankind. No one’s going to win this war, but I think we can slow down their progress.”
“They underestimate us every time they come out here,” Donnie said.
“That they do, brother. Let’s go slow. Fight smart. Minimize our casualties and maximize damage to the enemy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Something Like Justice
Victoria saw Breaker’s fingers move, probably giving Irene some sort of “don’t kill me” signal that only fixers knew. Irene watched him hungrily, but with feline patience that frightened Victoria more than guns and knives.
Breaker said, “I hope you two are done arguing. I need to have these bandages looked at and check on some friends in the hospital. And by the way, I think I sprained my ankle, just to keep things fun.”
Victoria wrapped her arms around him.
“You shouldn’t let your guard down,” he said, wincing at the sudden weight on his ankle.
“She isn’t going to kill us. She has other plans for you, I think.” Victoria bent to look at his ankle, but he took her by the chin, raising it so they gazed into each other’s eyes. “She can’t kill us now that we’re together.”
Irene huffed. “You don’t think I could kill both of you?”
Victoria shielded Breaker’s body with her own. Her protection didn’t mitigate the threat to him at all, but her instincts demanded it.
Irene smiled, danger sparkling somewhere deep in her eyes.
Victoria saw compassion but there was also insanity in her face.
“I hate to interrupt your cute little showdown, ladies.” Breaker stepped away from the two women and drew his weapon. “But we’ve got company.”
Victoria and Irene pulled their guns and spread out from Breaker, triangulating Frank Oden as he approached looking like hellhounds had mauled him.
Ogden laughed maniacally. His sallow skin was beaded with sweat and blood and he stared right through them. Blood-soaked bandages attested to recent injuries.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Victoria asked. “You think this is funny?”
He shook his head, still laughing at something on the horizon. “I escaped three homicidal maniacs who were about to murder me, then ran into three who are worse. Are you all fixers now, or just Irene and Jonathan?”
“This isn’t a job for a fixer. You’ve got crimes to answer for. It’ll take me a while to build a case, but I will, no matter what happens in this war zone. Did you forget what kind of investigator I am?”
“Let me put restraints on him if you have to arrest him,” Breaker said. His tone suggested he thought her choice to detain the man in the name of justice was foolish.
Victoria nodded for him to do it. “I’m not sure where we’ll hold him or who will judge him, but it’s the right thing to do.”
Breaker advanced on Oden, plastic zip-ties ready in his hand.
“How much evidence of your expansion plans did you leave at the sex lodge?” Irene asked, cutting in front of Breaker. “You’re getting sloppy and reckless. You’re attracting the wrong kind of attention from powerful people.”
“Stay back, Irene.” Victoria said.
“There must be expansion,” Oden said, taking the conversation beyond Victoria and Breaker’s understanding.
“I don’t care. Expansion, no expansion, it doesn’t matter anymore. The world we built is gone.” He waved a hand at the smoking ruins of the city. “The last newsfeed I checked reported riots in every major population center. Paradise has fallen. Someone has to take charge, take control, bring humanity out of the new dark ages.”
Irene inched closer, her hand on her pistol.
“Irene, I’m warning you,” Victoria said. “Don’t go any closer.”
“You clawed your way over Victoria and all the others you believe wronged you in the corporate world, but you’ll never be in a position to control me,” Irene said. “I’ll kill you and all your friends before that happens.”
Oden’s brows drew together. His upper lip trembled as he spoke. “What do your special friends think of you, Irene? Do they know about the murders you committed for your ideals? Have you convinced them your cause is just?”
Victoria didn’t need to hear the man goad the blonde fixer. She understood what Irene was, and feared her, knew she was part of a power game normal people could only guess at. The world was falling apart, yet very little had changed for Irene Vail. She called her own shots and played people like chess pieces.
So why do I trust her more than I trust Oden and people like him?
“You’ve said enough, Frank,” Irene said, raising her gun.
Breaker blocked her aim with his body as he twisted Oden’s arm behind his back. “Don’t fight me, Oden. I’m trying to save your life. Not that I give half a fuck if she kills you.”
Oden yanked his arm free. Breaker grabbed him but still struggled to get the restraints in place.
“Not your decision,” Irene said.
“I’m taking him in,” Victoria said.
Irene leaned, looking for a shot.
“You’re a thousand times worse than me!” Oden shouted. “It makes sense now. Yo
u’re one of them! The power elite, the founders, the masters of all we do. How else can you still be alive? You should be begging me for mercy, giving me whatever I want, screaming to please me!”
Irene lowered the pistol but didn’t holster it. “Be careful what you say, Frank.”
“Be careful! Why? So you only kill me a little bit? If I’m gonna die it might as well be telling the truth.”
Victoria came in to help Breaker. Memories of Oden throwing Aikido students around and choking out Jiu-jitsu black belts reminded her he was a serious martial artist. Always had been. Her absolute faith in Breaker’s strength and determination didn’t make her blind. Breaker could take Oden but not before Irene shot one or both of them.
“I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve got nothing to lose…” Oden slammed one shoulder into Breaker, then dropped to the ground. Breaker’s grip was strong, but not strong enough to hold a well-muscled martial artist dropping straight down.
Oden twisted, rolled, and came to his feet in the same motion. Blasting forward like a sprinter, he was on Irene in less than a blink, slapping the gun down.
She fired, striking the ground.
Oden aimed a thrust punch at her throat.
Breaker drew his pistol and fired. Victoria fired a tenth of a second later. The two bullets struck Oden’s head from different angles, dragging bloody gore into the air as they passed through skull and brain with equal ease.
Irene jumped back, eyes wide.
By the time Oden’s body hit the ground, all three of them were panting. Victoria’s heart pounded in her chest. Adrenaline pushed blood to her vital organs, leaving her hands shaking. She was oddly pleased that the two fixers looked just as upset as she felt at the violent incident.
Irene slipped her gun into waistband at her back, smoothed her hair, brushed imaginary dirt from her clothing. She stopped when she realized she’d just smeared tiny flecks of Oden’s blood and brains. “You should have let me kill him five minutes ago. We can never get that time back. I’ll send you a bill for the dry cleaning.”