The Face of a Rogue

by L T Anderson

  Krystal opened the door and stepped out.

  “So what’s our move?” Winter asked.

  Krystal walked around to the back of the BearCat and opened the rear door. “Take a look at the taxi across the street,” she said, snatching her duster from a hook inside the truck.

  Winter peered around the front of the vehicle. She caught a glimpse of Johnny immediately before he ducked into the minivan. Her hand instinctively went to her waist. Her eyes glued to the taxi, she unsnapped the strap over the grip of her 9mm. “Well, well.”

  Krystal slammed the door and walked back to Winter.

  Silver stood with Fred and Thomas near the sidewalk in front of Krystal’s truck. “Looks like we hit the mother lode,” she said, nodding to the activity in front of City Hall.

  Ryker stepped up behind the trio. “So you guys saw Logan, too, huh?”

  Fred stood between Thomas and Silver with his arms crossed. “Oh, there’s more to see than John Logan.” He nodded toward the taxi. “Levi Aldrich is in that cab.”

  Ryker’s eyes widened. “No shit? Krys didn’t see that.”

  “He rolled his window down a few seconds ago,” Thomas said. “Then zipped it back up in a hurry when he saw the three of us.”

  “Nice,” Ryker said. “So what’s it mean that the Changers’ leader is in Tremayne?”

  Silver appeared amused. “Something big, my friend.”

  “Guess we should follow that cab?” Ryker asked.

  Krystal stood next to Winter and watched the taxi pull away from the curb as she buttoned her duster. “We’re gonna have to commandeer a vehicle. We can’t keep an eye on that van in the Cats. They’ll spot us eventually.”

  “Agreed,” Winter said. She looked across the high hood on the BearCat. “Hey, Ryk. Gimme a hand.”

  Ryker nodded and stepped past the three Rogues. He met Winter on the sidewalk. Traffic across the four-lane road flowed smoothly but almost nonstop.

  “They’re leaving, Ryk.”

  “Saw that,” he said, his eyes darting anxiously at the steady swarm of vehicles. “I see a limo coming up here.”

  “Too conspicuous,” Krystal said. “There’s a full-size van, white, a couple cars behind that.”

  The trio stepped into the street, stopping traffic in the slow lane. Krystal held her hand in the air as Ryker and Winter trotted on the dashed lines between the two lanes toward the approaching van. Vehicles in the fast lane began to slow. Winter stepped in front of the white van, her right hand in the air. Ryker rushed up to the driver’s door and yanked on the handle.

  The surprised driver pulled his hands from the steering wheel and backed away from Ryker. “Hey, man! What gives?”

  “Punk Security,” Ryker said. “We’re commandeering your vehicle.”

  “Hell you are.” The driver reached past Ryker and attempted to close the door. “We don’t want you Punks around here anymore. Why don’t you just leave!”

  Krystal turned to the three Rogues waiting by her truck and waved. “Let’s go,” she shouted.

  “Sir,” Ryker pleaded. “You will be reimbursed. We have authority to take your vehicle for official use—”

  “I got deliveries to make,” the man insisted.

  “Look,” Ryker said. “Walk on over there to City Hall and tell them your vehicle was commandeered by Punk Security personnel. There’s a short electronic form to fill out. By the end of the day, reimbursement for your trouble will hit your bank account. Trust me—”

  “Bullshit,” the man said. “Help! Help! Hel—”

  Winter reached past Ryker and grabbed the front of the man’s heavy sweater. “Undo the seat belt, Ryk.”

  Ryker clicked the button.

  Winter pulled the man out of the van by his sweater. She shoved him toward the back of the van. “Go to City Hall.” She turned around as Ryker hoisted himself into the driver’s seat. She slid open the side door and directed Silver, Fred and Thomas onto the bench seat in the way back.

  Krystal jumped into the passenger seat up front as Winter hopped in the back and slammed the side door shut.

  Ryker steered the vehicle into the center turn lane and pressed the accelerator.

  Chapter 27

  Looking for Lace

  Lace knew she couldn’t stay on the asphalt surface much longer. Raymond would figure out the keys were in the Humvee, and he’d eventually overtake her.

  She rubbed both arms briskly and thought of her parka lying in the back of the Humvee. Her feet were heavy and numb from the cold. Her run had slowed to a trot—her boots scuffing the grit on the old paved road. The sun had refused to break through the fog.

  She slowed to a fast walk and glanced over her shoulder before hurrying to the mud shoulder. I gotta take a break, she thought as she pulled her cell from a back pocket of her jeans.

  Raymond placed one boot between Slade’s legs and the other next to the dead Punk’s hip. He leaned down and pressed his hands against the front of Slade’s jeans. No keys, but he’s got something. He tried to slip his fingers into the two front pockets at the same time but only achieved one knuckle-depth with each hand. Damn, Slade. You need to go on a diet, buddy. He smiled to himself, knowing that was impossible now.

  He stood upright and looked around the room. No cutting tool around. He looked back down at the knife he’d used against his former comrade. Slade’s lifeless eyes were still open.

  “Whadda you looking at?” Raymond laughed out loud. “Gimme that knife,” he said, reaching down.

  The stubble on Slade’s cheek rubbed against Raymond’s fingers as he slid the knife up and out. He wiped the blade on each side against Slade’s hairy upper arm. “Now,” he said, grabbing the edge of the dead man’s pocket again. He sliced through the denim to open the pocket and expose the contents. “Brass knuckles,” he muttered. “Whadda you got over here?” he asked, moving to Slade’s left pocket. He repeated the procedure to reveal a sleek six-inch butterfly knife. “What? No keys?”

  He stood upright, tucked his bounty into his jacket pockets and stretched his back momentarily before exiting the guard shack.

  Felix finished dressing and walked back into the main living area of his quarters in the Underground. He tapped a light switch on the wall to extinguish the ceiling lights. He looked up through the glass to view the cloudless blue sky above. A holographic display indicated the outside temperature was currently fifty-five degrees.

  He glanced across the room. The video display on monitor wall number three showed Raymond sitting sideways in the Humvee at the remote outpost.

  Felix speed-dialed Krystal on his phone pad.

  “Hey, Felix. What’s up?”

  “Krystal. That young man, Raymond. He has killed one of your people at the outpost.”

  “Holy shit, Felix. I’m guessing there was no way for you to intervene. We had two stationed there. Who’s dead? And where is the other person?”

  “The man is dead. The young woman has escaped. But Raymond is attempting to use the vehicle on site.”

  “That whole scene sucks, Felix. I’m up to my ass in a situation of my own. Call Dion, please. Tell him what happened. He’ll get someone out there to handle that mess.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that. So sorry I could not prevent the tragedy. I’ll contact Dion. Goodbye.”

  The keys to the Humvee dropped into Raymond’s lap when he pulled down the driver’s side sun visor.

  “Ooh la la!” he said. “It’s party time.”

  Lace walked further away from the road, hoping to avoid detection by Raymond. She turned and looked back. The asphalt surface was out of eyesight now, but that didn’t matter—she knew where it was. She squatted down, facing the direction she thought the road was, and dialed Jimbo. She glanced at the time on her cell. An hour ago Slade was still alive, she thought.

  “Hey, Lace.”

  Jimbo’s voice was strong, comforting. Tears welled in her eyes, and she lost her
cool. “Jimbo, Slade’s…Slade’s…dead.” The words stuck in her throat and she cried.

  “What?” Jimbo shouted. “What happened?”

  “Oh, Jim. It was Ray. Ray killed Slade.”

  “That sonofabitch! Where’s Ray now? Where are you?”

  She could tell he was pacing, flexing. It was his way. She knew if he were here, Jimbo would tear Raymond up. She shivered. “I’m by the outpost road that goes into Tremayne. I don’t know how far. I started running about an hour ago. I guess I’ve been here about five minutes or so.”

  “Lace, where’s Raymond?”

  “I ran, Jim. I left him at the outpost. But the Humvee’s there.” She swallowed. “The keys are in it.”

  “Look, girl, you’ve been here before. You were promoted because you’re strong. Pull yourself out of this funk or whatever you’re in right now.”

  Lace’s ire outweighed her fear. “Don’t be an asshole, Jim. I was promoted two levels because you guys demoted Curtis. I’ve never been hunted down by some maniac. You can’t say I’ve been here before.”

  “That’s it. Get mad at me. But suck it up if you wanna live.”

  “Fuck you, Jim.”

  “Atta girl. I’m sending some trucks out there. I got you on GPS right now. Whatever you do, stay away from the road. Try to stay hidden in the fog.”

  Lace held the cell away from her head and strained her ears toward the direction of the outpost. Her heart sank, and a familiar weakness flooded her legs as she leaned forward onto her knees. She put the cell back to her ear. “Jim, I can hear the Humvee coming.”

  Raymond cruised the Humvee along the rough asphalt road faster than he should have in the fog. Got you in my sights, Lace. He’d rolled down the driver’s window—the cold air felt good on his swollen left cheek. “Maybe I’ll join the Changers,” he thought aloud. “Hell, Krystal did that and no one ever suspected her.” He shook his head. “She was the stupid one. She got herself caught. Dumbshit.”

  The Humvee dipped sharply when the front tires hit a nasty rut in the road. The vehicle swerved hard to the right, and the rear end quickly caught up to the front. Raymond spun the steering wheel against the slide. He hit the brakes—too hard. The Humvee spun around, completing the 180-degree trick. The truck’s engine died with Raymond facing the road in the opposite direction.

  “Woo-hoo! I just did a one-eighty!”

  Lace positioned herself far enough away from the road to Tremayne that she couldn’t see the asphalt. She moved as quickly as she could through the mucky terrain. Her direction was purely by instinct.

  She heard Raymond’s antics with the Humvee on the road but felt confident she was undetectable through the mist. Nauseating butterflies roiled her gut when the sound of Raymond’s vehicle stopped.

  He’s close, she thought. She knew she was the prey in a sickening game of cat and mouse.

  Six vehicles—four Humvees and two BearCats—sped southeastward toward Lace’s location. The dirt road was damp but not muddy. Twelve battle-hardened occupants had prepared for a fight. The windows were open to the brisk air. The Punks held their bare arms out or rested elbows on the sills, their skin warmed by adrenaline.

  The driver of the lead BearCat accelerated around a wide curve. He knew the dirt back roads connecting the Punk outposts like a brother. The fog parted in front of the armored vehicle, thrust forward and away by the rush of steel.

  “Cat One. You copy, Cat Two?”

  The driver of the BearCat at the back of the caravan smiled. “Cat Two. Go ahead, you sissy motherfucker.”

  “Yeah, okay,” the lead driver said. “I’m a sissy, but you’re at the ass end of this steel snake.”

  “Got that right. Dion put the sissies up front. You need us back here to pick your asses up after the battle.”

  The driver in the first Humvee behind Cat One flipped his mic down. “Vee One. Copy, Cat Two?”

  “Go ahead, sissy.”

  “Y’all need us in the Vees to keep you on track so y’all don’t kill each other.”

  “Go back to sleep, you country bumpshit. You’ll need all eight of you to take down the four of us in these Cats.”

  “Cat One. Copy, Cat Two?”

  “Yep, go.”

  “Speaking of taking somebody down—I love that Dion sent twelve of us to stomp out that pissant, Raymond.”

  “It’s Dion’s style, man. Ain’t it just like him to cure a case of lice by decapitation?”

  “I swear if he’s laid one finger on Lace…”

  Lace stopped walking. She strained to hear the sound of Raymond’s Humvee. A slight breeze stirred the mist in front of her. He can’t be up there. That Humvee was behind. She spun around and glanced toward the direction of the road. The fog had lifted ever so slightly, exposing the asphalt edge. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Jimbo’s words haunted her. Whatever you do, stay away from the road.

  “Ooh, noo,” she whispered. She listened again.

  The voice was small, distant. “Oh, Lacey! Where are you?”

  Lace ran away from the road. She kept her eyes trained in front of her as they filled with tears. The fog was lifting. “No, no, no,” she whispered.

  “Marco,” Raymond called. “I see your feet!” He laughed.

  “No, no, no, no.” Lace found a cadence. So what have you got? Slade’s voice gave her confidence, spurred her on.

  “Aw, come on, Lacey,” Raymond said. His breaths were long, deep and labored. “I’m coming, Lace.” He slid to a stop. “I’m coming, Lace!” he shouted.

  “Cat One. Copy, Vee One?”

  “I gotcha, Cat One.”

  “Comin’ up on the left, about a quarter mile, we got asphalt. Transition’s smooth, but watch your wheel. It’s damn easy to flip that buggy.”

  “Not a problem, Cat One. Worry ’bout yerself. I’m right on yer tail.”

  The Cat One driver hit the asphalt at an approximate 150-degree angle. The front tires on the armored vehicle left the earth, spun freely, then landed hard on the paved surface as the back tires followed the airborne arc. The driver accelerated when the rear end hit the road and quickly gained control of the ensuing fishtail. He glanced at his partner in the passenger seat. “Get the GPS on Lace. She can’t be far from here.”

  Chapter 28

  225

  Levi gazed out the taxicab window at a ground-level marquis as the van entered a new Bystander subdivision just inside the Tremayne city limit. “Cute little cracker boxes, Doctor. Are we touring the entire town? What inspires you to bring us here?”

  “This is where you will witness the most base demonstration of the new SOUL Chybrid child,” Xander said.

  Angelica turned around and grabbed the seat back to look at Xander. “Did you say ‘the most base’?”

  Xander smiled. “I believe I said ‘the most basic,’ Ms. DeMone.”

  Johnny turned from the front passenger seat to join the discussion. “You said, ‘base.’”

  “It seems I’m outnumbered.” He nodded to Angelica. “I misspoke. I meant basic.” He held a hand up to the driver. “The address is right up here on the right. 225.”

  “Pretty sure they headed up the hill here,” Ryker said.

  “They did,” Krystal agreed. “Turn right into that new subdivision.”

  Winter leaned forward from the back seat and looked through the windshield. “It’s a cute little area. But middle class, at best. You’d think these guys would be doing whatever they’re doing in a more affluent area of the city.”

  “Depends on what they’re doing,” Fred said.

  Ryker turned right and cruised slowly up the narrow street. “Taxi’s up there parked on the right.”

  “I see,” Krystal said. “Just pass by and we’ll get a look.”

  The five Changers exited the taxi van and moved across the park strip to the sidewalk.

  The driver closed the passenger door on the van’s curb side and
turned to Levi. He held a tablet out to Levi. “Pay here, sir. The tip is calculated in.”

  Levi looked down his nose at the driver. “You do know who I am.” He paused and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, yes sir,” the driver said, nodding.

  Levi remained still, staring expressionless at the driver.

  The driver froze, the tablet extended. He glanced toward the other passengers waiting on the sidewalk behind Levi. “Uh…”

  Levi raised the other eyebrow and folded his hands behind his back.

  The driver lowered the tablet and bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir. Please, do have a nice day.” He turned and walked back to his vehicle.

  “Right this way,” Xander urged.

  “Sit low, guys,” Krystal said, reclining the back of her seat.

  Ryker propped his arm on the van’s door and held his hand over his face as if shading his eyes from the nonexistent sunlight. “They’re ringing the doorbell at that house.”

  “We need to park somewhere and get over there to see what’s going on,” Fred said.

  Ryker pulled over to the curb five houses down from 225.

  A woman in a plaid dress answered the door and stepped back. She wiped her hands thoroughly on her bright yellow apron. “Welcome, friends.” She smiled.

  Xander stepped in and grabbed the lady’s hand. “Ms. Givenzy, let’s make some introductions.” He turned to his companions. “We have replaced Ms. Givenzy, the Bystander, with our own Ms. Givenzy, a SOUL Chybrid. The resemblance is uncanny if I do say so myself.” He smiled broadly, looked at Ms. Givenzy and winked. “Then, we’re anxious to see the baby!”

  “Yes, of course,” Ms. Givenzy said. She started with Curtis. “Mr. Dyer, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doris Givenzy.” She nodded to Johnny and extended her hand. “Mr. Logan, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doris Givenzy.” Levi and Angelica received the same greeting from Ms. Givenzy.