The Cleanway

by Tim Niederriter

  Within seconds, the checkpoint was overrun.

  With Damien stalking through the base, probably blind thanks to the network suppression banks situated throughout the facility, the cleans ran amok. He made a terrible sight, visibly spattered and streaked with blood in flickers and flashes of vision caught by the team leader’s insects.

  “Carol!” he called over the sound of the fray.

  She did not answer. The team leader could not see Carol but doubted very much she would be in any state to reply, even if she heard Damien. The memory theft by Ryan Carter appeared to have done some lasting damage.

  The purifiers arrived on the surface. Brakes screeched as response vehicles came to a stop. The pack of cleans left on the surface had not been idle since Damien descended, however.

  Mindless, but loyal, the cleans moved here and there inside the building, maddeningly out of the team leader’s view, for the most part. Until the purifiers breached the doors, she did not realize what they were doing. A spray of bullets and shrapnel stalled the breaching team.

  If the purifiers had not taken the usual precautions, they would have lost members for certain. As it was, they picked their way through the building with painstaking slowness. Below them in, in the black site, the slaughter went on unabated.

  Damien and a group of his cleans blasted their way into the site’s holding cells. The remaining defenders in the room fell to fists and sprays of buckshot. Damien disappeared from the team leader’s view as he went inside, searching for Carol.

  Above, the purifiers’ advance faltered as a group of cleans counterattacked. Despite being unarmed, the cleans dragged the forward members of the fire-team to the ground with vicious determination. Two of the four counter-attackers immediately fell to bullets from the other team members. The other two retreated around different corners.

  The purifier fire team advanced warily on the elevator shaft. The team leader watched through their eyes as they scanned the long room with multiple doorways down the barrels of their weapons. They approached the elevator doors.

  Cleans rushed into the room from three of a half-dozen different doorways. Each one carried a hand-grenade without a pin. The team leader could not bear to watch as they converged. Explosions rocked the room, and she lost all sight from the purifier team.

  Damien emerged from the cells below, supporting a limping Carol with an arm about her shoulders.

  Damn it, this is going south fast, thought the team leader. She sent a message to her private boss’ assistant but got no immediate feedback. Hope you’re happy, she thought bitterly, because people are dying here.

  Damien made his way back to the elevator. His few remaining cleans finished their bloody work in the rest of the base. The team leader could not tell if anyone had survived from the black site’s teams, but up above, the purifiers had formed a defensive perimeter, abandoning the relief effort for the time-being.

  The renegade soldiers made their way back to the elevator. Cleans surrounded them on every side, carrying weapons scavenged from fallen defenders. The team leader sent warnings to the purifier officers above.

  Warning, armed assailants heading your way from inside the base.

  No reply came to her, but given she had tipped them off from an anonymous network position, she doubted they would reply in the first place. A rusty bell chimed in the center of the building. Damien stepped into the comparative light of a room at the back of the building, still helping Carol along with him, and still guarded by a dozen armed cleans.

  Purifiers outside, spread thin already, retreated as a group of cleans opened fire with what sounded like a squad weapon. Bullets sliced through the air, and knowing the lack of value in their armor at the moment, the purifiers took cover.

  Squirrels and birds scattered at the sounds of guns and screams. The team leader only barely caught a glimpse of Damien and Carol emerging from a broken window in the back of the building. They slipped through a gap in the purifier perimeter, leaving their entourage of cleans behind to continue the battle.

  The team leader’s stomach churned at the views of death and bloodshed from the insects and spiders below. She sent word to her team that she would be going off-shift in an hour. Until then, though, her eyes remained fixed on the massacre.

  Cleans lay in spreading pools of blood, the same as their heavily armed and armored victims. Damien and Carol were long gone by the time the purifiers wiped out the cleans above. The officers sent messages to their higher-ups, reporting the disturbance and requesting security barriers and sentries from the public forces.

  They had yet to even get to the basement.

  The team leader felt her insides ready to spill by the time she went off-shift.

  This bloody spectacle had not moved her boss at all, but he must have seen it.

  How could he?

  Because he could.

  I have to tell someone.

  The cold rain intensified.

  I found Rebecca upstairs in the main lobby. She leaned against one wall, eyes closed, her stocking-clad foot propped against the fresh sheetrock. Her shoes sat beside her. BrightNet employees came and went through the big doors to the street outside as I approached her.

  Her eyes opened. “Jeth.” She sounded tired.

  “Rebecca,” I said, “is something wrong?”

  “It seems like I’ve been coming clean a lot lately, Jeth.”

  “It’s alright. Whatever it is, it’s alright.”

  “There’s been another attack. This time, the cleans killed people.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “I sensed them fighting, felt them dying.” She looked at me, on the verge of tears. “Cleans and normal people, in a building not far from here, and under it.”

  “You mean…” I leaned closer, “maybe a government site?”

  “I think so.” She sniffed, then gave me a hard look. “I’ve been looking into it. I think Carol was there.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  She nodded. “I don’t think there’s anyone left down there.”

  “You mean, he got her out?”

  “Yes. And he didn’t leave survivors.”

  “Holy shit,” I said under my breath. “How can you tell?”

  “I can feel the minds of the cleans. What they have instead of minds.” She set both feet on the floor. “Jeth, I’ve been able to feel them since I came back.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  I wrapped my arms around her, held her close, cradled her head to my chest. “It’s not your fault. It isn’t.”

  “You may be wrong. I don’t… I don’t remember what I did before Yashelia, before she cleaned me.”

  “Okay, but it’s what they did this time. Not you.”

  “I can’t shake this feeling. It’s because of me.”

  I pressed her warmth tighter to me, halfway hoping she could cure the cold doubts in my mind. I didn’t know what she had done either. I didn’t know what the renegades wanted. All I knew—I love her—I couldn’t say. It wouldn’t have been fair or right.

  She looked up at me, cheeks gleaming. “Say something, Jeth. Please.”

  “You didn’t kill anyone,” I said. “You didn’t hurt those people.”

  “But I saw what those cleans saw. I felt what they felt. I—”

  “You’re not one of them.”

  “But I could have been. This network, the one I feel them over, it’s empty except for the spots where there are cleans, but somehow they’re all connected, and I’m connected to them. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I put my forehead to hers. “But ask yourself, what can we do now?”

  She brushed my cheek. “I want to see it. With my own eyes.”

  “You want to go there?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Maybe we can learn more that way.”

  “I’ll ask Thomas. He’s on his way already, so he should be here to pick us up in no time.”

  “Thanks, Jeth.”

  “It’s nothing,�
�� I said.

  “No. It is something.” She pushed herself up on her toes. Her lips brushed mine, warm, inviting.

  I responded gently despite the hammer pounding fast in my chest.

  Our kiss felt brief, but when we were done, a few people nearby had stolen glances. Let them look, I thought, they’re only seeing us as we should be.

  Thomas connected vocally. “I’m outside, man.”

  “We’re on our way,” I answered mentally. I stepped back from Rebecca. “Thomas is here.”

  She put on her shoes. I took her hand. We went out into the rainy street.

  Rebecca and I explained the situation to Thomas on the way. We arrived on the same street as the dilapidated building while the purifiers set up their perimeter outside. The gray sky was fully open by that point, but the rain had yet to turn icy. Thomas parked.

  The three of us climbed out of the van. Rebecca found the perimeter the purifiers were working on was loose. Evidently, they had not been given security troops for guards, or the barricades usually dispatched by governing aeons for incidents involving rogue stars or other threats. I guessed someone higher up must be blocking access. Someone like Sudhatho.

  We circled around the building on foot. The rain was light, but I knew it would hide our footsteps. Rebecca’s defenses blanketed our minds, shutting them out from the larger network. We reached the broken back window of the building. A leather jacket was still draped over the bottom of the frame.

  “Someone probably escaped this way,” said Rebecca.

  “One of the renegades?” asked Thomas.

  Rebecca nodded, then put her hand on the jacket. “Good way in.”

  I stood watch as they crept through the window, then followed them inside the same way.

  The smell of blood and smoke assailed me as I entered. If I hadn’t already known there had been a battle here, the stench would have been a dead giveaway, even for my inexperienced nose.

  We stayed quiet and made our way to the elevator Rebecca had told us led down to the black site. Bodies and fragments of armor scattered the room. I held my hand over my mouth, and the others did the same. We took the elevator down. The network around us faded as we descended.

  “Something is still blocking regular access down here,” I said.

  “Defensive banks,” said Rebecca. “Damien left them to cover his escape.”

  “You know it was him?” I asked.

  “Explosives and guns. Those are his tools,” she said. “I remember from before.”

  Thomas glanced at her, then at me, questions apparent in his expression.

  “Rebecca remembers the renegades from her past life,” I said. “They used to do dirty work for aeons.”

  “Shit,” said Thomas. “This just keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

  Rebecca nodded, her face solemn.

  The doors opened, revealing the massacre within the site under veins of harsh white light.

  Thomas and I followed Rebecca through the halls of blood and bodies. The sights and smells made me sick to my stomach. I told myself what I’d seen in Yashelia’s garden was worse, but didn’t feel convinced.

  Dripping sounds echoed in the quiet hallways. We made our way to the central command. There, we found a broken barricade and a door torn off its hinges. I swallowed bile as we continued inside.

  The slaughter inside was similar to that outside. Cleans and officers lay scattered around the command center. Only the dull-eyed human-like memory banks on the far side of the room remained untouched. In the center of everything sat three bodies, propped against each other. One of them, a big bald woman, still cradled a submachine gun in her hands. A bullet wound bled from under her shoulder guard. The corpse of a clean lay across her legs, limp hands reaching for the woman’s throat.

  My wide eyes went wider as the woman twitched to aim her weapon at us.

  “You—” she gasped. “Christ, you’re not cleans.”

  “You’re right,” said Rebecca. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  The woman did not lower the barrel of her weapon. “Stay there,” she said. “How can I trust you?”

  “We just got here,” said Thomas.

  “My name is Jethro Gall,” I said, “I’m with BrightNet News.”

  “BrightNet? Never heard of it.”

  “We just started up,” I said sheepishly. “We’re here to investigate.”

  “Those bastards got away,” the bald woman said. She lurched forward, but couldn’t seem to stand. She set the machinegun on the concrete floor. “But if you’re with the news, I bet you already know that.”

  “No, actually,” I said. “Most of this is still a mystery to us.”

  “Tell you what,” she said, “Keep me from bleeding out, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  The bald woman pointed us to the location of the emergency medical kits. Thomas removed her armor, and then bandaged her wound. We helped her lie down, cushioning her head with our coats.

  “Off the record, first,” she said. “This base was holding just one prisoner. A woman calling herself Carol, who we confirmed was one of the terrorists behind the city-wide clean attacks. One of her partners led this attack on us. I don’t know how he found where we were. This place is a black site, completely secret.”

  “Someone always knows,” said Thomas softly.

  “Apparently,” said the woman. “And one of those people betrayed us.”

  Footsteps behind us, made me turn toward the doorway, suddenly terrified.

  The mask of the lone sentry greeted my eyes in the gloom. She stopped in the entrance of the command center, arms folded. “You again,” she said.

  Thomas turned toward her. “Yes, us.” He grimaced. “I’m not surprised you found this place.”

  “I know who betrayed the defenses here,” she said. “Sudhatho.”

  “Him. Again,” I said.

  “Damn it,” said the bald woman. “He authorized this base. Why would he betray us?”

  “His motives are shadowy,” said the sentry, “This has to end. And it will. Tonight.” She turned and marched out of the command center.

  “Wait!” said Thomas. “What are you going to do?”

  But she didn’t wait. She left at a quickening stride. Thomas scowled after her.

  Rebecca touched my arm. “We need to get her help.” She motioned to the bald woman on the floor.

  “Me?” said the bald woman, “Just get me to the elevator. I’ll do the rest.”

  I nodded. Rebecca and I helped the big woman to her feet. All four of us returned to the elevator and rode it upward.

  “Please,” I said, “Don’t tell anyone we were here.”

  “I can keep a secret. Get the one behind this,” she said.

  “I promise, we will,” said Rebecca.

  We left her by the elevator and went out the same way we had entered the building.

  The sentry was already gone.

  The van rumbled as it carried us away from the destroyed black site. No purifiers were onto us, as far I could see. As we pulled onto the high street, Thomas surprised me by turning north instead of southward to Lotdel Tower.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I know where the sentry is going,” he said.

  My jaw must have dropped because he gave a wry smile. “What’s wrong, Jeth? Surprised I figured something out?”

  Rebecca clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Please, Thomas. What do you know?”

  “She’s gonna meet with Sudhatho.” He scowled through the raindrops splattering on the windshield. “That means she probably already set something up with him.”

  “Okay, but how do you know where?”

  “Something clicked with me back there,” he said. “It’s not that Sudhatho is trying to get people killed. He could do a lot worse if he was, but he’s trying to protect someone. He’s got to meet with the sentry somewhere public but somewhere no one will be in this rain. I already ran th
e network. The place that seems most likely is Trinity Square.”

  “The one with the giant fountain?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Who would go there in this weather? And sure enough, there aren’t any minds in the square. Except…”

  “An aeon,” said Rebecca, eyes returning from a cloudy state. “There is someone waiting there, but no mind to go with him.”

  “Seems like a good bet,” I said.

  Thomas pressed a bit harder on the gas, and the van accelerated to the north.

  Unregistered Memory, Thomas Fenstein, The High Street

  It all made sense. At last, Sudhatho was going out on a limb. And finally, Thomas vowed, he would punish the god damned traitor of an aeon. He maneuvered the van into the fastest lane it could manage on the high street and put more pressure on the gas.

  Moving so fast, he concentrated on the road above everything else. Better safe than dead. Raindrops painted the windshield every second. Every other second, the wipers threw the water away.

  Celsanoggi’s hints seemed useless now, but once they caught Sudhatho, that wouldn’t matter. The right evidence could end the aeon’s corruption, Thomas felt sure. He guided the truck onto the exit ramp, decelerating as he did. The van bumped as they rolled onto an ordinary street.

  Rebecca and Jeth were talking when Thomas tuned back in to them.

  “…can’t be sure he’s alone,” said Rebecca.

  “Sure,” said Jeth, “but we still need to get there fast.”

  “We’ll need an exit plan. Aeons are a lot faster than we are on foot.” Rebecca turned to Thomas. “I think you should stay with the van. We can’t take it too close or Sudhatho will notice, but we’ll need the speed if things go wrong.”

  Thomas scowled. “You want me to sit this out? What if something goes really wrong and you can’t get back to the van?”

  “Then you can floor it and pull us out of there,” Jeth said.

  “You can’t agree with this, Jeth,” said Thomas.

  “Actually, I do agree,” he said.

  “Damn it, I owe the sentry. I need to be there.”

  “This isn’t a game,” said Rebecca. “Even so, we all have our roles to play.”