Set Ablaze

by Teyla Branton

  “Still, cutting down trees hardly seems something the Emporium would waste time on. Why not just go somewhere else? With American companies pushing for GMOs, it isn’t really an agenda the Emporium needs to help along. Something else is going on. Something bad.”

  “Well, that’s what we’re here to find out.” Like most Unbounded gifted in combat, she had great instincts. I would trust her even if my gut wasn’t giving me the same feeling. “I already emailed Greggor a request for a population comparison with other towns to see if that brings up anything.” Our technopath in London could come up with the information we needed in a fraction of the time it would take us to research it.

  I gulped the hot tea and eyed the sandwiches, but my desire to eat had deserted me. I couldn’t push back the need for curequick any longer without endangering my ability to function. Besides, in a minute, Kenna would see that I was suffering.

  “You up for a bike ride?” I asked her. “Let’s see what they have growing in their fields now.”

  Kenna’s laugh was genuine. “Actually, I haven’t ridden a bicycle in fifty years.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s like . . . like . . .”

  “Riding a bike?”

  I laughed. I’d spent most of the last decade largely avoiding working with a single partner. Mostly, I was sent in alone, while a team worked the same op from another angle. My goal was to complete whatever missions I was assigned until I was too damaged or too exhausted to continue, and then I’d spend weeks in my flat recovering. That meant a lot of solitary moments. It felt good to be working with a partner again.

  “I’ll just change into some shorts,” I said. “Trifle hotter here than in London.”

  Grabbing my duffel, I headed to the smaller of the two bedrooms. I forced myself to wait until after I changed, my body flushed and sweating, my stomach cramping, to get the curequick from my pack. Curequick was a staple for all Unbounded regeneration, despite its addictive properties, and we usually carried it in both drinkable and injectable versions. Made primarily of sugars and proteins reduced to their most usable forms, it allowed us to regenerate at five times the rate of our already increased regeneration level. It also gave the user a pleasant buzz. The mixture had been designed by a scientist in one of our American Renegade cells, strictly formulated for use after taking wounds in combat. Unfortunately, Unbounded who used it too often found themselves victim to the severe withdrawal symptoms.

  Unbounded like me.

  For years, I’d told myself I was different from the new generation of Unbounded, who used curequick as a recreational drug, not as a way to heal after battle, but in the end it all boiled down to the same thing. Too many missions, too much curequick, and I was no longer reliable. The only thing left was to check myself into a certain hospital in London for treatment, and I’d be damned if I was going in that direction. No, I’d fix myself.

  After this op.

  It was always after the next op.

  I downed the contents of a pouch, and the warmth spread through me, at first a trickle and then a rush.

  I loved it—and I hated myself for needing it.

  Of course, if I had been reliable and not in the habit of avoiding extended meetings because of my dependence, I would have been in New York with the others when we were betrayed to the Emporium. I might have been one of those slaughtered. Instead, I’d have to live the rest of my two thousand years—twenty-five lifetimes of guilt—knowing I hadn’t been there to protect our people.

  A noise at my door had me reaching for my gun, but it was only Kenna, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the pouch in my hands. “Look, if you can’t do this . . . I heard about your . . . trouble.”

  “My addiction, you mean. It’s not a problem. I’m dealing with it, okay?”

  “Sure.” The firm line of her jaw told me if there came a time when I wasn’t handling it, she’d make sure I didn’t endanger the mission.

  “Anyway, right now we have a bigger problem,” she continued. “I was moving the bikes out to the path behind the house, and I found something. Remember those old people we were looking for? I found another one, but he’s dead.”

  THE MAN’S LEATHERED FACE POINTED upward, his eyes open and unseeing.

  “You sure he’s not just smashed?” I asked, kneeling to check his pulse.

  “Of course I’m sure. And for the record, he doesn’t even smell like alcohol.”

  “He can’t be older than sixty.” I rummaged through his pockets. “Wallet’s here . . . with money.”

  “No obvious signs of trauma, either. Looks too young to have died of old age.” Kenna glanced around. “We have to move him. Can’t let the authorities come to the house or think we’re connected.”

  “We’re not connected.”

  “No, but if the Emporium owns all the land around the city, I bet they own the authorities. This will call attention to us.”

  “I’ll get the gloves in my pack.”

  Gloves and a white bedsheet were all we needed to carry the man through the deserted grove of thin-leafed olive trees bordering the property. Tall bushes that were almost trees themselves often barred our way, telling me this particular grove wasn’t cultivated. We deposited the body far enough away from the villa that we wouldn’t be suspected, but close enough to a small grouping of houses that someone was bound to find him soon.

  “Careful where you step,” Kenna said as she folded up the sheet we’d used. We’d have to dispose of it later, not that I was expecting much from local law enforcement.

  “Poor guy,” Kenna added, staring down at him. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Taking a blood sample.” I inserted the needle into his calf, where the hair should go a long way toward hiding the mark. “How many other dead mortals have you discovered lying around on other missions? We both know something is going on in this town. It might be—”

  “Connected,” she finished. “I know—it’s just that I already took a sample before we moved him.” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s so peaceful out here. Hard to believe the Emporium chose this place.”

  “They’re everywhere.” I purposely made my voice hard. “Let’s go.”

  Back at the villa, Kenna tossed the sheet in the bathtub and filled it with water and bleach. Then she changed her clothes. She always did that after any kind of fight or op, as if changing wiped away the memories.

  Whatever she needed to do.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked, as she climbed on one of the bicycles.

  I dragged my eyes from the legs that emerged quite compellingly beneath the patterned shorts with the oversized pockets. I’d been attracted to Kenna for most of the past five years, but even if I didn’t have a problem with curequick, Renegade Unbounded were careful about their relationships—and for good reason. Our genes ensured that children would invariably result from almost any union, and there was no guarantee the offspring would be Unbounded. We’d all learned too well that having a family meant watching most of them grow old and die before we’d aged two years. It meant stress-filled years of actively protecting loved-ones from Emporium slaughter. I’d seen many of our people watching over their posterity for six generations with the hope that someone in their line carried the active Unbounded gene.

  No, even if Kenna was interested, a relationship wasn’t something I could risk until I got myself under control. I wasn’t reliable.

  I flashed her a grin. “I’m not staring. I’m just hoping we aren’t going to be climbing in the bushes, or we’ll both be uncomfortable.”

  “The satellite images show paths all around this area and most of the fields. We only have to get close enough to see what’s going on, and take a few samples.”

  Hopefully, not more blood samples.

  “Let’s check out the buildings last,” I suggested. There was only one set of buildings large enough to be of interest. “I bet we won’t be able to get too close.”

  “Probably not.”

  The first fi
eld was only ten minutes away, but the crop had already been cut down. “Corn,” I said, squatting down to examine the remaining stalks.

  In the next field, cabbages were being harvested by a dozen Portuguese who loaded them into a long, wagon-like trailer pulled by a truck that showed more rust than green paint. Only one woman glanced our way as we pedaled by. We waited until they were out of sight to gather a sample and put it in my pack.

  We passed fields of potatoes, carrots, and tomatoes before coming to wheat fields that went on as far as we could see. I took a sample as I had with the other fields and said, “I think we’ve seen enough here. Fresh daily bread is a staple in Portugal, so these probably go on for a while. I’d like to look at those vineyards and the olive grove we saw on the map. If the Emporium is behind those, they’ve been here for at least ten years.”

  “The buildings are near the vineyards too. We need to see those.”

  We reached the olive grove first, and the beautifully tended trees brought a lump of nostalgia to my throat. Olive oil was as common as water here, and I still used it whenever I had time to cook.

  Next came the vineyards, the sweet grapes beckoning to us on the vines. I was already experiencing the faint taste of grapes through absorption, as my body sucked in nutrients from the world around us, but I couldn’t resist stopping. Picking and eating grapes from the fields on the way to our swimming hole was straight out of my childhood. Hopping off the bike, I grabbed several bunches of the bulging fruit.

  Kenna settled next to me on the remains of a crumbling stone wall that had once encircled the field. “Don’t you think it’s stupid eating these without knowing what the Emporium is doing here?” she asked as I held out a cluster to her.

  I laughed. “I guess I’m too accustomed to being immune to everything. Besides, it’s not Unbounded who are dying here.”

  “Just because severing our focus points is the only proven method for killing Unbounded doesn’t mean another way isn’t possible. I’m fairly certain Emporium experimentation is how we learned about the whole lock them in a sealed room for decades until the body falls apart approach.” Taking a tube from a back pocket, she dropped in one of the grapes before adding a squirt of liquid from a vial stored in yet another pocket. Even Kenna’s casual clothes were especially designed for combat, and I was betting she had at least ten other pockets holding different weapons and tools. I used to order similar clothing, but more often than not, they ended up burned and unusable after an op, so I’d given up on them.

  Shaking the tube, she smiled. “No toxins at levels that should hurt us.”

  “Course not.” I threw a grape at her, intending to catch her off guard.

  Her hand, barely a blur, shot up to catch the fruit. “I didn’t say there aren’t any toxins. This test isn’t that sensitive.” She popped the grape into her mouth. “Mmm,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever they’re doing here, they haven’t compromised on taste like most of the genetically modified foods in the world today.” She shook her head. “I don’t even bother with strawberries anymore unless they’re straight from my own garden.”

  “You have a garden?”

  She shrugged. “I dabble. Just a few years now.”

  Right. And I’d been trying to stay away from her for at least that long. “It doesn’t make sense, all these different foods. I mean, there is no sign they’re exporting or even selling outside the region. They might own the land around the town, but in the scheme of things, it’s only a tiny bit of land. Really not more than enough food to feed this town and maybe a few more. They can’t be making money.”

  “We need Drew.” Kenna’s voice caught on the words, but her expression was even.

  Drew Gunnel was one of those we’d lost in the New York raid. I knew he and Kenna had been close, but I didn’t know how close. He’d also been a scientist who could do wonders in the lab. Normally, he would have come along on this op; now we’d have to send our samples to his mortal assistant in London.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “But I think our answer is over there.” I jerked my head in the direction where my GPS had pinpointed the buildings.

  Kenna nodded and brought up on her phone the notes we’d made earlier. “According to the records Greggor pulled, the original main building was built at the same time this vineyard was purchased ten years ago. But in the past two years, they’ve doubled its size and added a bunch of what might be large storage barns.”

  I swallowed the rest of my grapes. “Let’s go see.” The sun was low in the sky, but there were still several hours left of daylight.

  “Be careful. They’ll have cameras.”

  When I didn’t respond, she added, “Sorry, force of habit.”

  Combat Unbounded liked running the show, which was often annoying for the rest of us who trained just as hard and knew the rules. “I don’t mind. I’ll be careful.”

  Her smile sent heat curling through my belly, a burning sensation that had nothing to do with my ability and everything to do with how much I liked being with her. I hadn’t been in a relationship to speak of in fifty years, and I would be blind not to be attracted to Kenna.

  Leaving the bicycles, we wound our way through the vineyard, careful to keep the vines between us and the buildings that rose in the distance. Finally, there was only one row of grapevines left to shield us, and we squatted down to peer around them with our binoculars. The place was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped by razor wire. If that wasn’t a big enough clue, the uniformed guards standing at the gate and intermittently around the fence were a clear indication that this wasn’t your average agricultural company.

  I counted at least eight newer buildings, made from corrugated metal or wood instead of the brick and cement typical to the region—probably hastily constructed. There were also two crumbling brick buildings, and nearest the main gate, an older, squat edifice with fresh mustard stucco. Guards came and went from the yellow building, some strutting with an overt confidence that hinted at an Unbounded nature.

  “Well, look at that,” I said as the workers we’d seen earlier picking cabbages drove up with their wooden wagon full of produce. The guards let them through the gate, and I followed the wagon with the binoculars until it reached a wooden barn-like structure behind the main yellow building. The double doors opened wide to reveal stacks of crates.

  Before the workers finished sorting their cabbages into the crates, four other groups arrived with what had to be more produce. The workers looked happy and smiled as they waved to the guards. One of the female employees jumped down from a truck and ran toward a guard, who swept her up in his arms and kissed her, his hands eagerly groping her body. The other guards poked each other playfully and pointed at their comrade, goading him on.

  I wasn’t surprised. The Emporium always left a slew of abandoned women and illegitimate babies in their wake. Babies they’d only send someone to check on after thirty years, in case they carried the active Unbounded gene and Changed.

  “The workers don’t seem afraid.” Kenna put down her binoculars, fitting them into a zippered side pocket in her shorts.

  “The Portuguese are hard workers, and the economy here isn’t great. I bet they’re glad to have jobs.” I hadn’t seen any old people in the mix of workers, though I didn’t point it out. The Emporium would naturally employ people they thought could endure hard work.

  “Obviously, they’re not planning on making this a real business,” I said, returning to our earlier conversation. “Or they would have brought in more machines and purchased even more land. There’s not even enough wheat to supply more than the city with flour. Whatever they’re doing is localized.”

  “Testing, then.”

  “That’s my bet.” I suddenly became aware of how close we were sitting. My mouth felt dry as my gaze locked onto her face. Much of the makeup she’d worn was gone, and a trickle of sweat sliding from under her wig hinted at the reason. Usually we dyed our hair every other day during ops,
to account for rapid hair growth, but we’d expected this to be more of a reconnaissance than a combat operation.

  With the dead man outside the villa, all that had changed. Meaning the op was working up to be pretty average fare for Renegades. Most of our ops had casualties, though we tried to make them happen on the side of the Emporium and not the innocent mortals we protected.

  “I’ll text the courier to meet us at the villa,” Kenna said, drawing out her phone. The courier service we’d contacted this morning in Lisbon employed a driver in a nearby town who would come for the samples and fly them back to London. The exorbitant price tag on the remote pickup was more than worth getting the samples there before noon tomorrow, and they had promised to send the courier in civilian clothing so as to not attract attention.

  We zigzagged across the field, keeping low until the buildings dropped out of site on the horizon. At the bikes, I dug into my pack and took out the samples I’d gathered from the other fields. “Why don’t you take these and meet the courier at the villa? No sense in both of us waiting around. I’ll go into town and see what I can learn about the man we found.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, and I wondered if Greggor had warned her to keep me in sight.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said before she could speak. I had plenty of curequick in my pack, if I needed it. Being a native, I was the obvious person to snoop around, and getting the samples to the courier was vital, which meant it was Kenna’s responsibility.

  “I was just going to say we have company.” She looked past me as she spoke, shifting her body into a defensive stance.

  I adjusted my position casually, catching sight of two men coming toward us. The heat built inside me as I prepared for a fight.

  THEY WEREN’T DRESSED LIKE Emporium agents, and they looked Portuguese, though that didn’t say much. The Emporium had many mortal employees. These men didn’t look any different from the field hands we’d seen earlier.