by L T Anderson
The top hatches on all ten BearCats in the hot zone popped open. Smoke bombs flew from the hatches—four from each truck—and landed approximately twenty yards in front of the vehicles.
“Now,” Jimbo said.
Winter led the Punks from the safe zone up a small rise toward the rear of the circle of earth movers. She stopped behind a large grader and motioned for the others to bypass her and continue around the rear of the machines. She fixed her first explosive device to the grader, stood quickly and hurried to the fourth vehicle in line. She set her second device and remained crouched as she watched the other four Punks make their way around the circle.
“All Cats are go,” Nico said.
Lace, Adam, Joey and the other Punk drivers in the hot zone each wedged a crowbar between the dash and the accelerator pedal in their trucks. When the engines revved, they dropped the gearshifts and the BearCats moved forward in ten different directions. The rear doors to the trucks swung open, and the Punks stepped down onto the smoke-filled dirt road.
The sound of rifle shots filled the air. Bullets ricocheted off the moving driverless BearCats.
Shooters in the dumpers continued their barrage, oblivious to the fact their targets were empty.
The Punk farthest from the street set his last explosive and began a sprint back toward Jimbo’s position.
Buster and Storm walked calmly but purposefully to the other two BearCats as Jimbo detonated the furthest of the explosive devices. The rifle shots stopped momentarily as shouts from inside the circle began.
The two Punks hopped into the trucks and backed them up to the subdivision entrance. Two graders were perched back-to-back, blocking the entrance.
Smoke from inside the subdivision drifted into the street and quickly covered the two Punk vehicles as Buster and Storm walked to the rear of their trucks and opened the back doors.
The gunfire started back up when Jimbo set off the second, third and fourth explosions.
The driverless BearCats continued their ghostlike treks toward the dumpers. Bullets bounced off the fenders and shattered headlights and windows.
Nico and his group sprinted toward the two back-to-back graders as Jimbo detonated the remaining devices. One by one, twenty Punks hopped and crawled over, under and between the two graders at the entrance.
Buster and Storm stood at the back of the vehicles and counted each Punk as they piled through the open doors into the back of the trucks.
Storm glanced over at Buster. “Ten!”
“Ten!” Buster said as the two rushed around and jumped into the drivers’ seats.
Winter sprinted to her waiting vehicle and jammed the gearshift into drive as the last of the four remaining Punks entered the open rear doors. She shouted into her mic. “Got ’em all!”
Simultaneously, the four trucks accelerated away from the subdivision as the bullets continued to bounce off the sacrificial BearCats in the hot zone.
Chapter 49
Promotions and Emotions
Levi sat comfortably in a cushy executive office chair behind his huge chrome-and-glass desk. His royal-blue custom-tailored suit was freshly pressed. He enjoyed the time spent in his private study on Level Ten in the Underground City. The prospect of becoming the Changers Global Supreme Leader was exhilarating. After the last conference call with the Changers Regional Leaders, he was confident he had the necessary votes to seal the position. Today’s call would be the confirmation of everything he had worked and fought so hard for. In his mind, the call was but a formality.
He tapped away at a virtual keyboard on the glass surface while gazing at the wall in front of him. The video on the wall displayed five grids, each representing a region of the world controlled by the Changers. One by one the grids illuminated the faces of the Regional Leaders—Europe, Asia, Africa, South America. Levi’s real-time image was displayed in the center of the screen with live feeds of the four other Regional Leaders positioned at the corners.
Levi smiled and pressed a button, opening the mic to all participants. “Greetings, Changers Regional Leaders.”
Each of the leaders acknowledged with a nod and a smile.
“Insomuch as the votes are finalized, I would like to take this opportunity to have recorded into the permanent record my election as the Changers Global Supreme Leader. If each of you would please enter your vote into the system now, my election, and therefore my title, will become official and immediate.”
As the number below Levi’s image on the screen grew from zero to four, so grew the breadth of his smile. He glanced down at the keyboard and pressed the all-important vote button. The image displayed a large number five, and the title above his name changed instantly from North America Regional Leader to Global Supreme Leader.
“Splendid!” Levi felt an adrenaline surge. He stood from his chair. “I would like to thank you all for this confirmation of your confidence in my ability to lead our organization. There could have been no other reasonable outcome. I will be in touch with you all individually. For now, carry on.” He reached down to the keyboard and terminated the connection.
He stood silent, staring at the display on the wall: a map of the world with all five Changer-controlled regions outlined accordingly. He stood tall and held two fists in the air. “I am Levi, Changers Global Supreme Leader!”
Dr. Felix Yaz stood, arms crossed, atop a raised steel platform in the plant at Punk headquarters. It had been seven days since the work on his expansive new laboratory had begun. He was more than pleased with the progress. The new plant was immaculate and near sterile. Felix insisted that everyone who worked in the plant wear white.
A row of twenty-four robotic arms—assembled using salvaged parts from mechanical Chybrids—clicked busily above circuit boards. Sydney stood at the front end of the row, scanning an electronic tablet. She glanced intermittently at a nearby monitor then back to her tablet, occasionally tapping the device with a stylus.
Drew sat in a barstool-height chair at a high desk in the corner of the plant. An array of monitors—two rows of four—was secured to the wall in front of the desk. He tapped expertly onto a keyboard on the desk while his eyes darted between the monitors.
Pops and Geezer hovered around a group of Punks who were assembling four large glass enclosures near the center of the expansive room. Wires and tubes extended from the glass enclosures upward to a second level adjacent to scaffolding attached to the ceiling and secured to the floor.
Pops walked over to the foreman’s platform. He looked up at Felix and removed his white bandanna. “I need a break, Doctor. I been six hours without chew or a cigar.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Geezer’s gettin’ tired, too.”
Felix nodded several times. “Oh, yes, my friend. Please take a break. I want no fatigue here. Fatigue leads to errors. We must all remain fresh.”
Pops turned and motioned to Geezer. “Let’s take a break, you old fart.”
Geezer looked across the room through grimy spectacles and waved a white towel at Pops.
“See that, Doc?” Pops said. “He’s surrendering.”
Felix turned to descend the five steps from the platform. He glanced toward the door and waved.
Krystal waved to Felix as she approached. “We gotta talk, Felix.”
“My, what is it, my dear?”
“Fred and Thomas aren’t doing so well.” She glanced around the room at nothing in particular. “I think your twenty-four-seven schedule has really taken a toll on them.”
“I do apologize for that,” Felix said. “But much of this operation is for their benefit.” He pointed at the four glass enclosures surrounded by the team of Punks. “Those are the conversion chambers. We are making excellent progress.”
“We all get that,” she said. “But Fred and Thomas look bad. I really think you should pay them a visit.”
“Yes, yes. By all means,” Felix said, walking toward the door. “I would hate to think my schedule has con
tributed to an acceleration of their demise.”
Krystal walked quickly to keep up with Felix. “I don’t even want to hear about their demise. They are extremely valuable. But more than that, they’re friends.”
Felix and Krystal walked through the door into the Hangar and headed to the exit. “Are they in their quarters?” he said.
“No,” Krystal said. “We’ve moved them to the infirmary.”
“Then lead the way, dear.”
Dion and Ryker sat side by side at the main control panel inside the Depot. Ace manned the comm console.
“I gotta hand it to you, bro,” Ryker said. “It took a while, but Rudie and Jas are really coming through for us.”
Dion smiled. “You bet.” He looked his best friend in the eye. “I made that call, you know? The one you said I should make. They took that call like true friends. They upped their minimum, sending at least 5,000 trucks. Each. Now you know why they’re taking so long.”
“No shit?” Ryker said. “Wow, 10,000 armored vehicles? Holy cow, I didn’t know they had that kind of firepower.”
Dion shook his head. “Me either. We don’t have five thousand left in our fleet. But I guess it stands to reason. They haven’t been dealing with the same shit we have.”
“Yeah. Changers have made themselves pretty manageable in their sectors. We’ve definitely taken the brunt.”
“Yep,” Dion said. “So with seven more days passed, the Changers have brought 700 more earth movers in. At least ten percent of those are war-ready offensive machines.”
“Ha!” Ryker said. “And we’ll have at least 10,000 in a few days to go up against them.” He looked sideways at the Punk leader. “Another case of curing lice by decapitation?” He held out his fist.
Dion pounded a fist down on Ryker’s. “Lice by decapitation.”
Will met Krystal and Felix in the main hallway inside the Punks’ infirmary. He supported himself on crutches—one leg braced and one arm in a sling. He tipped his chin at the two. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Hey, the third Amigo lives!” Krystal said. “We’re going to see Fred and Thomas.”
“I was just headed that way, myself,” Will said. “Let’s go.”
The trio walked down the hallway and entered a room three doors down from Will’s.
Fred and Thomas lay in separate hospital beds, each with an IV on a slow saline drip in their arms.
Felix grabbed a chair and positioned it between the bed. “My friends, how are you feeling?”
“Not good, Felix,” Fred said. “Please say your conversion chambers are ready. I’m so weary being a Changer. I so need to be real again.”
“We are merely days away, my friend,” Felix said. He placed a hand on Fred’s forearm. “Please stay strong. Please hang on.” He glanced up at Krystal then turned back to Fred. “Remember our friends, Ivan and Marvellus? They have been organizing a mass exit of technicians and scientists from the Underground.” His eyes widened in an effort to appear hopeful. “They are coming to help, and our work will progress so much more quickly.”
Krystal looked down at Thomas. “How’s it going with you, buddy?”
Tears welled in Thomas’s eyes. “I’m not sure I care to hang on.”
Felix’s eyes moistened. “Oh, my dear friend. Please don’t say that.” He placed his other hand on Thomas’s arm. “We have been through so much together.”
Thomas’s tears flowed from the corners of his eyes and soaked into the pillowcase.
Fred turned his head and looked at his friend in the other bed. “Thomas.”
Will tried his best. “Suck it up, you two. A few more days and you’ll be as good as Krystal.” He looked at her. “No offense.”
Fred turned his eyes to Krystal. “I want that scar.”
Krystal started. “What?”
“Get Geezer in here. Tell him to burn me the same way he burned you. I want to die with the face of a Rogue, not as a Changer.”
“I want the same,” Thomas said.
“You’re both ridiculous,” Krystal said. “This is a hideous scar. And you’re not going to die!”
“It’s a badge of honor, right, Felix?” Fred said. “Burn me.”
“Do it,” Thomas said.
Krystal looked at Felix and shrugged ever so slightly. “What do we do?” she mouthed.
Felix nodded.
Krystal turned to Will and jerked her head toward the door.
Will nodded once and turned to leave. “I’ll get him.” When he reached the door, he hobbled back around to face the two bedridden Rogues. “You guys are Rogues of the highest standard.” He fought his own tears. “No matter what happens.”
Chapter 50
The Face of a Rogue
By midnight the day after his election as Changers Global Supreme Leader, Levi lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. He reached to his nightstand and pressed a button, activating all lights in his quarters. He arose from his bed and removed his silk pajamas. Stopping at the full-length mirror, he admired his naked body and smiled. I do believe my royal-blue suit is still in order, he thought. And who would have anything to say if it weren’t? After all, I am Levi Aldrich, Changers Global Supreme Leader.
He changed into his suit and walked into the main living area. With the resources I now have available to me, I do believe a remodel is in order. Who would expect the Changers Global Supreme Leader to be crammed into a mere 2,500-square-foot apartment? He smiled at the thought and answered his own hypothetical question. Why, no one, of course! He walked to the bar and poured a lowball glass one-quarter full of bourbon. I like you, sir, he said, raising the glass to his reflection in the mirror.
When he finished his drink, he stepped into his private elevator and pressed number ten. Four security guards stood at attention when he stepped off the elevator.
“Good morning, Leader,” the lead guard said. “Your private study?”
Levi nodded at the guard, turned and walked down the short corridor. He passed his hand over the security pad on the wall adjacent to the door of his study. The light above the door flashed red, then green, and the door swished open. Curious, he thought.
He stepped inside and pressed the “all lights” button on the inside panel next to the door. He heard the lock on the sliding door behind him click. The outer foyer illuminated all lights. But only the desk lamp lit in the large room that housed his main office. He shook his head. “I’m going to have to take this up with our head of facility maintenance,” he said. He shook his head as he walked into the darkened office space. “Unacceptable. Just unacceptable.”
When he passed over the threshold into his study, the lights in the foyer extinguished. He stood still.
“Changers Global Supreme Leader, huh?” The voice was barely above a whisper.
Levi squinted into the darkness as he repeatedly tapped a button on the wall. “Who’s there?”
“It didn’t matter that the Regional Leaders voted to promote you, Leader. Your days were numbered long ago. You’re not the Changers Global Supreme Leader anymore. You’re not even North America’s Regional Leader.”
Levi stood tall and flexed his muscles beneath his royal-blue suit. “I demand you show yoursel—”
The needle sank into the Changer leader’s neck before his next breath. “Ow. Wh…” he said, flailing his arms as if swatting flies. “Where are you?”
“So much for the Felix Yaz skullcap you had placed below your skin. You should have asked for neck protection as well.”
The Changers’ leader felt the wall hit him in the back as he fell. “No,” he whispered. “Guards…security…help—”
“It’s a changing of the guard,” the voice said softly. “Die, Levi. Just die.”
Levi remained conscious as his large frame slid sideways down the wall inside his private study. His muscles were useless. He felt the presence of a hand on his head. Fingers dug deep into his neatly coiffed hair. He knew
it was messy now. He felt the pressure of his hair pulling against the skin on his scalp. Pressure against his neck.
As the long blade sliced through the skin on his neck, the faint light from the desk lamp blurred, then faded to black as blood from the big man flooded onto the blue carpet. Levi felt the pressure when the blade moved down on both ends, handle and tip. He lost consciousness when his severed head rolled to the side.
The assailant picked up the fallen leader’s head and walked to the desk. The head hit the inside of the wastebasket as the surgical-quality blade hit the floor.
The assassin unbuttoned a set of bloodstained white coveralls and let them drop to the floor. Stepping to Levi’s wardrobe, the assailant opened the double doors and selected a royal blue suit to match the one worn by the dead Changers leader.
The figure paused momentarily for a change of appearance before walking slowly out of the study and into the foyer. With a hand swish on the panel adjacent to the door, the assassin strode out into the bright white corridor.
At seven o’clock in the morning, Ryker and Krystal stepped into the Punks’ dining room at Checkpoint One. “There they are,” Ryker said, pointing at a table across the crowded room. The pair removed their dusters and hooked them on the wall by the door.
Dion and Jimbo stood when the pair arrived at the table.
Winter remained seated. “’Bout time, guys. I’m hungry.”
“You didn’t have to wait,” Ryker said.
Jimbo chuckled. “Like one pig waits for another, bro. We already ordered.”
Dion leaned back in his chair and held up both hands. “Heads up, everybody. I just want to let you guys know, Rudie and Jas have come through for us. There are several waves of reinforcements coming from the central and east sectors. They started last night and will continue to dispatch throughout the next week or so.”
“Awesome,” Winter said. “And it’s long overdue. Yellow machines are stacking up every day outside Tremayne.”
Jimbo reached across the table and fist-bumped Ryker. “Yo, dude. Yeah.” He eyed Winter. “Time to kick some Changer butt.”