by S Mays
“I never said that! I don’t have anything to do with your physical training, so I am not at liberty to say. If you have questions about your chi training or —”
“Oh, I’ll never get any answers out of you,” she exclaimed.
“My girl, I don’t know what this is about, but please calm yourself. This outburst is not like you. What has happened?” he asked.
“I-I don’t want to talk about it. It’s nothing. I’ve heard that when I spar, my opponents are…taking it easy on me,” she replied.
“If you are doubting your abilities, let me tell you that you are one of the most capable fighters in the building, which is extremely impressive given your age. You should never doubt yourself, Jessica.”
“I…don’t know what to think. When I’m sparring, sometimes I see my opponents leaving openings that seem too obvious. When they strike me, it does not feel forceful. How do I know if I am as good as I think I am, Grandfather?”
The old man chuckled. “No one is as good as they think they are, my girl. And as good as you are, there is someone better. And as good as they are, there is someone better still. You can only do your best and hope for the best outcome.”
Jessica frowned and replied, “Grandfather, that is one of the weakest bits of wisdom you’ve ever spouted. Worse than that time you said eating several pounds of garlic would keep vampires away.”
“I swear that works. It’s just that the amount you have to eat is more than most people are capable of eating in one sitting!”
“I’m not going to get any straight answers out of you. Is Father still downstairs?” she asked.
Bilford rose, then crossed the room to one of the massive bookcases that lined the walls. He slid the book into the open space between two others. Or at least he tried to. The small tentacle returned and held on to the edge of one of the books to the side. Another electrical shock sent it back from whence it came. This time he murmured a minor locking spell at the book. The edges of the moldy, ancient tome were briefly outlined by slender neon blue lines racing around the edges, meeting in the center of the spine.
“It wounds me that you won’t tell me what is wrong, Jessica,” he stated, not turning around.
“There’s nothing you can do about this situation, Grandfather. I’ll have to handle it on my own. I merely need to know if you and Father are not training me to my fullest. I’ve tried very hard, but I’m only as good as my teachers will allow.”
The old man stroked his beard, instantly smiling. The girl was wise far beyond her years. If he hadn’t been staring at the form of a young girl, he would have thought he was conversing with someone ten or fifteen years older. Order members and their children could learn virtually anything through the Automated Learning System, or ALS, as it was called. The user only had to put on a virtual reality headset, and all subjects were at their fingertips. Jessica preferred physical books to the ALS system but used it when necessary.
Children raised within the organization were taught basic subjects all the way up to doctoral courses. Through special connections that could not be traced back to the organization, even college credits and degrees could be obtained through the system. Jessica had earned a bachelor’s degree in history from UCLA at the age of twelve, and was one of her father’s most capable research assistants. It was no wonder, since her father was one of the most brilliant scientists on the planet, and her mother’s medical research had been years beyond what the world’s top scientists were studying.
“I can’t speak for your other trainers, but I am training you to the fullest extent of my knowledge, my girl,” he assured her.
“How can I know if that is true?” she asked.
Bilford looked hurt. “Jessica, when have I been untruthful with you in the past? Why would you accuse me of lying?” He was feigning the extent of his indignation, but her mistrust did sting.
“You…you are right, Grandfather. I apologize. I let my emotions lead me. Blast it,” she said. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, it was as if all emotion had fled.
“Jessica, I’d like to help you, but I can’t if —” he started to say, but she interrupted him.
“Do not worry about it. I was wrong to accuse you. I trust you’ve trained me very well in your specific areas of expertise.”
Now he would get nowhere with her. Once she had put up her barriers, there was no point in pushing any further. “It’s okay, my girl. If you need me, I’ll always be here for you.” He held his arms open, waiting.
She sighed, then reluctantly crossed the short distance between them. Stiffly, she embraced him. “I’m getting too old for this,” she protested.
“My girl, you are just a baby. I’m over a…well, I’m much, much older than you, and I never tire of a hug from a loved one,” he said, smiling down at her. His long white beard brushed her face, tickling her nose. She waved it away, but it returned instantly.
“Stop it!” she said, pushing it away. Bilford chuckled. She returned his smile.
“Go ask your father if you want to know if he’s taking it easy on you. I’m not, and Sam isn’t, either. I don’t think Jake is, but we don’t talk of such things regularly,” he admitted, thoughtfully stroking his beard.
***
“Father, may I have a word with you?” Jessica asked. He was still obsessing over his nanite research, just as when she had left him.
“How was your workout?” he asked, not looking up from his microscope. She reddened at the thought of what had happened.
“About that — have you ordered everyone to allow me to win when I spar with them?” she bluntly said, a hint of accusation in her voice.
He froze, then slowly looked up at her. “What has given you that notion?”
“You aren’t refuting it,” she said.
“Young lady, I don’t think I like your tone. I asked you a question.”
“I…would rather not say. Let’s just say I heard a rumor, and leave it at that,” she offered.
“Jessica, you know I don’t have much tolerance for hearsay and gossip,” he replied, turning to enter data on a keyboard.
She stood impassively, unsure of how to proceed. Once her father had decided an issue was settled, it was best to not antagonize him. His reaction to her accusation indicated there was probably truth to the rumor. Perhaps a different tack was in order.
“Are there any new developments with the nanites?” she asked.
“You mean since I last saw you a few hours ago? I can’t say that there is,” he answered. “Is there something else I can do for you, or maybe you would like to actually start helping me today?”
She pondered for a moment before replying, “How long do you think it will be before you have a functioning nanite construct?”
“When I go to the Overseer meeting, I’m going to exchange notes with a scientist from the top Chinese research facility. They’ve been working on a similar technology. I believe I’ll gain valuable knowledge that will advance the project by months. I hope to have a functioning prototype within the year.”
“That’s much sooner than I expected,” she said.
“Yes. Now, do you intend on helping me, or do you have more things you’d like to accuse me of?” he asked.
Despite his assumption of victory, she wasn’t going to let this one go. She wasn’t going to allow her trainers to sabotage her aspirations. It was like everyone in the building was against her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Several days later, the time had come to depart for Pickens, South Carolina. The crew met in the Missions Briefing Room. There were five of them on the mission: Lyle, Jessica, Sam, Theresa and Vera. Theresa was a sturdy soldier who had been with the organization for over a decade. She was five-foot-nine, around one hundred and eighty pounds. Her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair was straight. Her face was hard, with permanent lines etched into her facial features. At thirty-nine, she was one of the older soldiers at the Farm.
Jessica greatly respected anyon
e who had managed to stay alive in the organization for as long as Theresa had. Although deaths were still common, through better training and technology, the survival rate of soldiers had gone up tremendously in the past few years. But Theresa came from a time before those advancements, meaning she was smart and tough.
Vera was a small, mousy woman with dark brown hair and large glasses. Meek and unassuming, Vera was a Medium. Most Mediums were rather quiet and kept to themselves, and Vera was no exception. Jessica theorized it was because of the things they heard and saw while speaking with the dead. Able to communicate with spirits, she would be necessary to guide any they found to the afterlife. It was the responsibility of everyone else on the mission to protect her while she utilized her special abilities, which required intense concentration. Mediums were not soldiers, so she would be extremely vulnerable.
“Okay, so, what we’ve got here is some idiot rednecks who say they’ve seen some ghostly visions or some such down in Bumfuck, South Carolina,” Lyle said, pointing out the satellite image of the area they would be visiting.
Boredom permeated his voice. He considered this mission below his talents.
“To make matters worse, we’re going down in a damn van because of the low priority of the mission, and because the Vulture is waiting on a part,” he said, his disappointment evident.
“Hey, now, that’s what I call a road trip!” Sam interjected.
Lyle sighed. Sam was one of the few people he knew not to hassle, but going on a long drive with Sam was going to test the young man’s patience. “Yes, a road trip. I don’t expect this will take long, so hopefully we’ll drive down, kick those spirits off our plane of existence and be back in time for a midnight snack.”
“We aren’t going to spend the night down there?” Sam asked.
“Not if I can help it. No, I don’t want to spend the night in some little flea-bitten banjo-playing podunk redneck town. I want to be back here in my own bunk,” Lyle said.
Sam’s face fell. Jessica patted him on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Sam, we’ll be able to hang out and see a bit of the countryside for a few hours, at least,” she said, comforting him.
“Yeah, we will. It’ll be fun. I got so many stories to tell ya, too,” he said, his face brightening. Jessica inwardly groaned.
***
Jessica was extremely grateful that Lyle had decided to drive the entire trip. Sitting on the wall-mounted bench in the back of the van, staring at his smug face for the entirety of the trip, would have been torture. She suspected the reason he had chosen to drive was twofold: he would speed, cutting down travel time, and he would also avoid Sam’s stories. Speaking of which, Sam hadn’t stopped talking since they left.
“So, there we was — me, with just a huge pipe wrench, my arm dislocated, bleedin’ from wounds all over my body, and a single V4 vampire left. Now, I gotta admit, a vampire of that level is just a little bit stronger than ol’ Sam, even back when I was in my younger days,” he said, his eyes wide. He looked to each person as he told his tales, attempting to pull them into his tapestry, whether they wanted to participate or not. Vera quietly watched him but seemed genuinely interested. Theresa smirked, casting glances at Jessica periodically.
“Now, dawn was just minutes away, but ain’t no way I was goin’ to be able to beat this sucker in that time. I had to think fast. He figured it was over for me, so he dove in, tryin’ to rip out my neck. That fangster was fast, too. But I’d seen it before. I jumped back, bringin’ that wrench right up to his face, bashin’ in his nose. He stopped, grabbed his face, and that’s when I hit him across the head, which dazed him for a few seconds. By the time he realized what had happened, I’d used that wrench to attach his arm to the bumper of a ’56 Chevy. He ripped and tore in a fury, tryin’ to either pull his arm off or that bumper, until he calmed down and figured he’d better undo the wrench. Just then, the most beautiful sunrise I ever saw came up over the hill and fried that vamp on the spot. See, sometimes you gotta use your noggin, although I wish I’d had an automatic shotgun at the time,” Sam said, finishing his third story.
Jessica smiled, knowing Sam had embellished his tale yet again. The last time she had heard it, the vampire was level V3. The next time, it might be a vampire lord. Although she sometimes tired of hearing his stories, today she was relishing them, because she could tell they were extremely annoying to Lyle. She peered out of the one-way rear window of the van, noticing they were in a small town.
“This is it, kids. Pickens, South Carolina. Not much to look at, is it?” Lyle said.
Jessica looked out the front and rear windows, observing the small town as they passed. As far as she could determine, it looked like many other rural towns she’d visited. The buildings were a mix of older structures with modern franchises like McDonald’s. A local café caught her attention. A chocolate sundae sounded wonderful. The van continued forward as the café faded into the distance, along with the small town. Their destination was down a dirt road just outside of town. There was rarely time for such luxuries for an agent of the Order. She imagined sitting around a table with friends talking about…something.
She thought again of the lives other girls her age lived. School, dating, and family vacations — it all seemed so mundane when you knew of the supernatural world that the Order was designed to combat. Sometimes she wished she could have just a taste of what others took for granted.
“Yo, look alive. We’re here, people,” Lyle shouted into the back.
The van pulled off the main road onto an overgrown trail. It bucked and bounced over the dips and rocky terrain. Fortunately, even the standard Order vans were equipped with four-wheel drive, as well as adjustable suspension. The chassis could lift above the ground an additional two feet if necessary. The tires were equipped with retractable studs and could also be inflated or deflated automatically. When there was an incident, agents needed to be able to get on the scene as fast as possible, no matter the location or the weather.
After fifteen minutes of crawling down the trail, they arrived at the field. Everyone exited the van, arching their backs and stretching their legs. An angry red sky erupted from the horizon as the sun set. Jessica and Sam both smiled, exchanging a glance.
“Pretty, ain’t it?” Sam said.
“Utterly gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve seen one like it,” Jessica answered.
“All right, people, enough of the chatter. That mound of dirt over there is our target. We are going to set up a perimeter around that. Vera’s going to set up her circle ten feet out. Sam, you stay with her. The rest of us stay spread out, equal distance. Jessica, you stay in the van,” Lyle ordered.
“I didn’t come all this way to sit in the van,” Jessica protested.
“I’m in charge, and —” Lyle started, but Sam interjected.
“Jess can stay with me. There ain’t nothing to worry about out here. An old burial mound ain’t no threat. I told her dad I would watch out for her.”
“Look,” Lyle said, but, noticing Sam was going to stand his ground, he relented. “Okay, but she’s your responsibility. Make sure she stays out of the way. You know anything can happen out here, Sam.”
“I do, but this ain’t nothing but a passing ritual. Nothing’s goin’ to happen,” the big man said.
“Let’s get the gear set up, people,” Lyle said.
They began unpacking the van. Lyle carried a katana across his back, along with an assault rifle. Theresa wielded the same model rifle as Lyle. Sam hefted a huge machine gun onto his shoulder. Jessica grabbed her katana. It was slightly smaller and lighter than Lyle’s blade. Lyle, Sam, and Theresa changed into their field suits. Each suit was a grey mesh, providing resistance to firearms, knives, and other light weapons. These suits had a polymer layer developed by her father that he hoped could repel spirits. Turning away from the group, she wondered when she’d get a suit of her own. Sam’s hand fell on her shoulder.
“Forgetting something, Peach?” he
asked, handing her a duffel bag. She opened it and was surprised by what it contained.
“Your father wanted you to have this. Figured it was about time you had your own,” Sam said.
She smiled, pulling the suit out of the bag. “He’s just worried something might happen to me.”
“There’s probably some truth to that too, but think of it as one more step of him thinkin’ of you as a field operative,” Sam replied.
She entered the van and changed, emerging a few moments later. She draped her katana scabbard, or saya, across her back. “The suit’s a little loose.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t have the exact measurements, so we went a little big. He figured you would grow into it. He said don’t get any ideas, though. You’re still not a regular field operative.”
“Yes, I know my father,” she said. She smiled at Sam, feeling more like one of the group now.
“Okay, people, if we are all done playing dress-up, can we finish establishing the camp?” Lyle shouted from across the field. He was standing waist-deep in wild grass. He pulled a softball-sized chrome orb from his sack and tossed it. It flew fifteen feet before pausing in midair. Two foot-long blades sprang out of the sides. It immediately began spinning, lowering itself down into the grass. It quickly made contracting concentric circles around the burial mound, cutting the brush and grass until the area was completely clear. It then returned to Lyle.
“Gotta love these things. Can you imagine the money we could make if we sold these?” he asked, admiring his reflection in the orb.
“Can you imagine the weapons military forces would make with those?” Jessica said. “There’s a reason we don’t let Order tech into the wild.”
Tossing the orb back into his bag, Lyle frowned. “Jessica, if you could just not open your mouth for a little while, that would be great. We’ve got real adult work to do. So, just go sit your little butt down by Vera and don’t bother her. Contacting the dead takes a lot of concentration.”
Jessica looked to Sam. He shook his head as if to say, “I know.” They walked across the field to where Vera was setting up her Circle of Contact. Vera had flown in from another facility to help on this mission because Maggy was out on another case. While Maggy communicated with spirits using her innate talent, Vera apparently relied on other methods.