“Damn,” Bender muttered. “For future reference, you don’t need to insert the entire dart into the body. The tip is enough.”
I shot him a look. “Are you critiquing my dart-injecting skills?”
“Just looking out for those of us within your proximity.”
The guy in the chair slumped forward, moaning lightly. We had to wait for Lockland before we could interrogate him, so it was better that he was out of it. I wasn’t interested in discovering any more tricks or death wishes he had, and it was clear he wasn’t going to talk until he got Babble.
Using the edge of the blade, I bent over his forearm and popped the cerulean ball out. It rolled in the middle of my palm, covered in blood and goo. I cleaned my knife on my thigh before sheathing it. Then I picked up the ball between my thumb and index finger. It had a small gap in the middle, and blood eased out of the crevasse, dripping down my fingers.
With effort, I compressed the two sides together, forcing the gap to close.
The effects were immediate. The medi-pod began to slow, and the lights began to flicker. I let go. Things resumed. I whistled. “That is a powerful magnetic pulse,” I said. “And all this guy had to do was pinch this together under his skin.”
Bender held out his hand, and I dropped the ball into his palm. He brought the thing up to his eye to study it. “This will definitely come in handy later.”
The guy in the chair made a few gurgling sounds, his eyes rolling back in his head as saliva dripped down his chin. He wasn’t making any sudden movements, so that was fine with me. I grinned. “Little does this bastard know he’s about to reveal all his secrets to us.”
“Yeah,” Bender said. “But now we’re going to have to wait for him to recover from that shit before he talks.”
“The amount in that dart lasts about an hour. I’m not worried,” I said. “We have to wait for Lockland to get out of the pod anyway. Let’s find that kill pill Maisie said he had on him and make sure we check him thoroughly, including inside his mouth. Maisie may have missed something. The tech is high military grade. Stuff that would’ve been rounded up immediately following the meteor strike and obviously kept under wraps.”
Case rummaged through one of the guy’s pockets. “Found it.” He held up a pill the color of the sky on my wall screen as Daze dragged a few more chairs into the room. The kid was making himself useful.
Darby came forward, and Case handed it over. Darby held it up to his nose and sniffed.
“Does it have a scent?” I asked.
Darby nodded. “Slightly acidic with a sour undertone. I’ve studied these before. Blue is the worst. It contains a chemical that instantly neutralizes certain atomic bonds. Everything in your body just stops working.”
“This guy doesn’t look that old,” I said. “I was expecting someone in Dixon’s age group, fifties or sixties. He looks like he’s in his thirties at most. That means they have to be actively recruiting if they’ve been around for as long as we think they have.” Roman’s notes indicated that the medi-pod project he’d been working on had been going on for years before he joined. He’d been down South for ten, so that meant the group started at least twenty, if not thirty, years ago. This guy would’ve been a little kid.
Case stood over the drooling guy. “The more I’m looking at him, the more he seems familiar.”
I inclined my head. “Was he in your former militia group? Someone who was out on a mission the day Dixon killed everybody?”
“No,” he replied with certainty. “But Dixon probably had dealings with him at some point. Sometimes I caught a glimpse of who he met with from afar. If I had to guess, he’s from the big militia down South, the powerful one trying to round up the tribes. If he is part of that group, we’ve got bigger trouble to deal with than just the Bureau of Truth. That means their scope is much, much larger than we thought.” Case didn’t have to stress the implications. If the bureau was connected to the powerful militia we’d encountered on our journey down South, it would be a hell of a mess.
Daze, done with the chairs, dragged in a large metal box he’d found. He stood next to it, staring at the bones on the floor. I walked over, settling a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to believe these women were missed and someone loved them.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
Together, we began to carefully set bones inside. Case joined us, and we worked to clear a small area. Once that box was full, Daze dragged it out of the room without a word.
Glancing at our potential tell-all captive, I settled my arms across my chest. “Whatever comes out of his mouth is going to change us.”
“I know,” Bender grumbled, coming to stand next to me. “But the way I look at it, it’s time for a change. We can’t keep living like we have. Our resources won’t hold out. We’re surviving on crumbs. These guys know that.” He gestured to the man in the chair. “They’ve known for a long time. I have a hunch this group stayed back from The Water Initiative on purpose. Maybe they struck a deal with whoever was in charge at the time, and since then, they’ve been actively building their troops and getting organized. A few defectors like Dixon managed to fuck things up for a while, but they’re not stopping their original plan.”
“Which is?” I asked. I had my hunches, too, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.
“A new world order,” Case said, answering first.
My gaze shot to his. “Possibly. But one that will be full of torture and violence. That’s all these militias know how to do. Inflict pain and agony on all who don’t conform to their authoritarian ways. They will massacre thousands of innocents who refuse to bend to their rule.” It was disgusting to think about, and my mind immediately went to Gia. Her existence had been abysmal. She’d been repeatedly sexually assaulted and beaten and then murdered and thrown away—discarded like trash. My life could’ve easily ended up just like hers had I not found my family before it was too late. Life in this world was just a set of near misses.
The outskirt crossed his arms, legs splayed. “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They value their survival above all else.”
“How are they going to survive? Do they have magical abilities we don’t know about?” I challenged.
“I’m sure they’ve been hoarding resources for decades,” he answered. “Whoever started this was likely in a position of power. By now, they probably have a precise calculation of how many souls they can sustain until they can build and develop new resources.”
My fingers went to my temples. “This is insane. If they’ve been hoarding resources for that long, they could’ve been using them for everyone’s benefit. The world would be a better place right now.”
“They don’t care about everyone,” Case said. “I lived it. The militia organization is completely secular. They believe they’re superior in both body and mind. That’s why these guys are so cocky.” He gestured at the man in the chair, who had begun to slowly move his head, the effects of the Quell lessening. “The ones they send on these errands are the most loyal. They’ve bought into their way of life and grew up working solely for the common good. Hell, he was probably born into it and knows nothing different.”
“If Dixon knew about this entire organization and the link between the bureau and the militia,” I said, “and tried to stop it, he could be considered a hero in some people’s eyes.”
Case’s expression dimmed. “Dixon was no hero. He cared about no one but himself.”
“That may be true,” I said. “But as he was selfishly looking out for himself, he inadvertently benefited all of us by staving off this overthrow attempt until now. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that everything happened after he died. They probably felt like they could proceed again once he was out of their way for good.”
From behind us, the medi-pod slowed.
Bender made his way over and, once it stopped, helped Lockland out. “Looks like it’s time to find out what this asshole has to say. No more fucking guesses.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the time Lockland was out of the pod and organized, the bureau guy, firmly secured to the chair in front of us, began to fully wake up. We agreed he should be alert before we gave him the Babble. I’d been content to wait a little longer, even though waiting was my least favorite thing to do, mostly because the look on his face when he realized what was about to happen was going to be worth its weight in coin.
As he came to and took in his surroundings, he sputtered, “Let me…go.” He tested his restraints, which were rock solid, finding no give. His head came up, and he contemplated us. Five adults and one kid all sitting in a semicircle two meters away. All giving him the same screw you face. “You’re going to perish,” he growled. “If you’re not going to let me go, just kill me. I welcome it.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said as I stood. “We’re dying to know why you’re so anxious to end your life.” I moved toward him, my hands clasped behind my back. The dart, the one that previously contained Quell but was now filled with Babble, was tucked in my grasp. He didn’t need to see it yet. I wasn’t expecting him to answer freely, but I was interested in learning more about his temperament to better figure out how he was going to handle all this.
“I’m not scared of dying,” he spat.
“That’s incredibly clear,” I said. “But that doesn’t answer my question. I asked you why you are so willing to die. Do you have knowledge of a greater force waiting for you on the other side? Will the sun be shining there? Please tell us.” Giving this guy a chance to proselytize might get him to talk. People who held such firm beliefs often couldn’t help themselves.
“You would never understand,” he said, ending on a whine.
“Give me a try,” I said. “I might be a woman, but I do have a working brain where the synapses fire regularly.” I gestured to my crew behind me. “And if I can’t muddle it out, certainly my friends will be able to help.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” he said, his mouth snapping shut, then opening again quickly. “Just know that your time is near.”
“I’ll have to disagree with you there,” I said, stopping next to him. “You are going to talk, and it just so happens I have the very thing that will compel you to comply.” I brandished the dart, rolling it between my fingers in front of his face, enjoying his expression as it flittered from bafflement to apocalyptic anger in less than three seconds.
“You can’t use that on me!” he sputtered, trying to kick out his legs, hoping to scuttle out of the way. Except, it didn’t work because his ankles had been shackled to the chair, and the chair had been reinforced with metal braces in anticipation of lots of defensive movements.
Everything held beautifully.
Bender rose and moved to his other side. “She can, and she will,” he said as he bent over the guy, his gaze narrowing. “And I have a feeling she doesn’t give a shit about how far the needle goes in either. You’re about to spill your guts and give us everything you have in that brain of yours.” Bender flicked his finger against the man’s temple. The guy shrank back, as most people did around Bender, even if they were trying to sell themselves as a cocky, self-assured pain in the ass who wasn’t afraid to die.
“We know about you,” the guy said through a clenched jaw. “We know about all of you.” His head rotated as he peered at each of us. “You’ve been prancing around this city, oblivious to us, but we’ve been watching you for years.”
“That was your biggest mistake,” I said, jamming the dart into his neck until his skin met my fingertips. His mouth gaped open and shut, but nothing came out. “You should’ve been doing more than watching us.”
Reluctantly, I slid the thing out, rubbing it on my pants before I stuck it back in my vest. My outfit was going to need a thorough cleaning once this was over. I had enough of this guy’s bodily fluids on me to warrant a biohazard bath.
The guy’s eyes rolled back in his head as his muscles began to tremble. Darby rushed over, repositioning his head and looking into his eyes.
“Is that a normal reaction?” Bender asked.
Darby shrugged. “I have no idea. When I came to after I had Babble, I didn’t remember anything, not even what happened before they gave it to me. His pupils are dilated, but not overly so.”
“So, do we just start asking him questions?” I asked, skeptical we’d get anything out of him in this state. “He doesn’t look like he’s going to do much talking.” Once Darby let go, the guy’s head fell completely backward, his mouth gaping open, his eyes nothing but whites.
“Again,” Darby said, “I’m not sure. I’ve never interrogated someone on Babble. I don’t know how people respond.”
Daze brought Maisie out. “How do we interrogate someone on Babble?” he asked the egg a few centimeters from his lips, which was his preference.
“An injection of the drug called Truth Serum 241, nicknamed Babble, will produce effects immediately,” she intoned. “The injected should be seated in a comfortable, conversational position, facing the interrogator. If needed, cold water can be used to counter sluggish behavior.”
Bender grabbed the guy’s head and pushed it forward. It fell limply, toward his lap. “We should’ve used a chair with a headrest,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure one doesn’t exist around here.” I glanced at Daze. “There’s a jug of water in the back of Seven. Go grab it.” Nodding, he shoved Maisie in his pocket and took off.
“If we take him out of the chair, we lose the restraints,” Lockland said, trying to hide a grimace. Upon exiting the medi-pod, he’d claimed he felt fine, but I could tell he was in pain. The data readout on his condition had stated that he’d need at least one more run before he was healed enough to move around. But he’d insisted we get on with the interrogation.
“Let’s slide his chair against the wall,” I suggested. “That will provide him with an adequate headrest.” I leaned over and tugged out the two metal rods that served as braces for the chair. Bender and I both grabbed the chair legs and slid it and the guy backward. “That should do the trick.” I positioned the metal rods against the front to give the chair some stability if he tried to use his head as leverage. But, honestly, he didn’t look like he was in any shape to act out. We would likely be fine.
Daze brought in the water. I took the jug and proceeded to splash a hefty dose into the guy’s face. He sputtered and coughed, shaking off the haze of the drug, just as Maisie had predicted he would.
I bent over to gauge his expression. It was slack, showing no emotion.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Reed,” he answered readily, no hesitation.
Darby and Case moved our chairs forward, while Bender helped Lockland relocate closer so everyone had a front-row view. “Where are you from, Reed?” I asked as I sat. I was going to ask the first few questions, but we’d all agreed to interject as needed. We had enough Babble, so there was no worry about timing. None of us was leaving this room until we were satisfied.
“Militia base S17,” he answered. His voice reminded me of Maisie’s monotone, but with a more human cadence.
“Where exactly is militia base S17 located?” I asked.
“Approximately three and a half hours south of here,” he answered.
“Is your militia base the biggest one south of the city?”
“Yes.” So he was from the big base we’d flown over that Case had been worried about.
“How did you get here?” Lockland asked.
“By craft.”
“Did you come alone?” Bender asked.
“No. There were three of us.”
“What was your mission?” Case asked.
“To take down the adversaries who threaten our agenda,” Reed replied.
“And who exactly are those adversaries?” I asked, knowing full well he was referring to us.
“A group in the city with increased power.”
“Does this group have a name?” I asked.
; “We call them Bender’s crew.”
I chuckled. “I forgot to tell you,” I said, addressing Bender. “The guys we ran into who were hired to do surveillance at the Emporium called us Bender’s crew, too. Did you know that’s how people referred to us?”
“Yeah,” Bender said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I never paid much attention to it. I don’t give a shit what other people think.”
“Works for me,” I said, returning my attention to Reed. “Reed, why does Bender’s crew pose a threat to your group?”
“Because they fight to protect defective humans,” Reed answered.
“And you don’t protect defective humans?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Defective humans deserve to die.”
“Why do they deserve to die?” Darby asked.
“Because they are weak,” Reed said. “They will die anyway, so it doesn’t matter. We must populate a new race. One that can last.”
“Last for what?” I asked.
“They will come,” Reed said.
“Who’s coming?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“The Flotilla will return. They will bring us new hope, and we will provide them with a new population.”
“How long have you known this?” I asked.
“It has always been known,” he answered.
“Were you born into this militia?” Case asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“What is the Bureau of Truth?” Lockland asked. It was the big question we all wanted an answer to.
“We have infiltrated the government,” Reed said. This time, there was a little infusion of glee in his voice, like the response to this question was hardwired with happiness. “They do not know what lies beneath their very noses.”
That sounded like a quote of some kind, maybe a common militia mantra. “Where did that saying come from?” I asked.
“My father,” Reed said. “The time draws near for us to regain our power.”
“Also a quote from your father?” I asked. “What was his name?”
Danger's Cure: (Holly Danger Book 4) Page 13