Humans Only: A Jake Dani Novel (Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Book 2)

by Victory Crayne

  Ron got a tag from Gancha.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  Ron thought it over. She was a newbie on the team but Jake had told him of her skills.

  “Maybe you could. You haven’t finished your training but we could use more guns on this op.”

  “You have an op in mind? By the way, where’s Jake? Why am I talking to you instead of him?”

  “Jake is missing. That’s what the op is for.”

  “Oh-oh! I must help! Where do I go?” she asked.

  Hmm. Maybe it would be a good idea to get more firepower on this op.

  It would not be a good idea to give the location over a comm tag.

  So he said, “I’ll meet you at the corner of Main and University.”

  “How will I recognize you?”

  “Just be there. Jake has told me enough about you for me to recognize you.”

  They disconnected.

  “Vincent, I have to step out for a while,” he said, “to bring a new member of our team here.”

  “Who?” asked Vincent.

  “Gancha.”

  After leaving the ops center, he walked to the corner of Main and University. Ten minutes passed and he was about to leave when a car pulled into the nearby alley. A tall dark woman stepped out.

  “Gancha?”

  She nodded. “And you are?”

  He grinned.

  She didn’t volunteer any information and turned the question back to me. Just like a spy.

  “I’m Ron.”

  He got into her car. “Drive down Main. When you see Marino Suites on the left, turn into the alley beyond it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he piloted her past their security and into the planning room.

  “Gang, this is our newest member, Gancha Morentoss.”

  #

  While still immersed and able to see through a clear window, Gerhi’s cage tilted backwards and moved along rails. He focused on breathing in the fluid with his fingers wrapped around the bars of his cage.

  When his cage came to a monitor, it stopped. From the prior vid, he knew he was in the final position for the duration of the twelve hour flight─flat on his back. The ship would travel from an orbit above Earth to the jump gate at the L4 Lagrange Point sixty degrees ahead of Mars in its orbit around Sol. Without the special fluid in his lungs to help him breathe while under high acceleration, he would arrive with collapsed lungs.

  And dead.

  Over the next twenty-four hours, he tried to get as much sleep as possible, expecting he’d be sent on an op soon after he landed in Zor. Several times, an alarm rang and he’d wake. It usually interrupted a dream of his being wounded and left to die.

  “Snack time,” showed on the screen.

  He sucked on the tube on the right side of this face. The menu consisted of different flavors of shakes, each containing the electrolytes his body would need over the next twelve hours. He chose strawberry this time.

  Not bad tasting.

  Despite the fluid in his lungs, or maybe because of it, he knew when he slowed down on the way to the Jump Station.

  A voice came in his ear. “If you feel like throwing up after the jump, remember to put your lips around the round tube in front of your face. Otherwise, your barf will fill up your vision and you’ll smell it for hours. It stings the eyes, too.”

  Gerhi embraced the vomit tube in preparation and watched the animation of the jump on his monitor, but the nausea was not as bad as he had remembered.

  Then he sped up, endured weightlessness at the turn around point, and slowed down again as the small transport spaceship approached Rossa.

  He whiled away the time with one of his favorite daydreams, the one where he won the lottery, and with enough money, quit BIS, bought his dream home on an island in the Pacific, and spent his days on its beach. This time he met a female surfer. Of course, she was good looking. Loved to have him do it to her, too.

  It dawned on him how many times humans had nothing to do while waiting. They must all daydream, from the highest to the lowest of IQs. He wondered how much of his life he had spent daydreaming. Probably years.

  The last time he slowed, he received a warning.

  “We’ll soon arrive at Rossa.”

  Time to cough up the fluid and get back to breathing air.

  #

  I woke to find myself resting naked on a cot. You might call it a bed, but it consisted of only green canvas over a hard surface. But at least my hands and ankles were free of the shackles. The air was cold and I shivered.

  The room was tiny by any measurements, maybe six feet by six feet. I stood and found my head just under five inches or so from the ceiling. I saw a stainless steel sink and toilet on my right.

  Some jail. About as tiny as the one in the ops center.

  The small window, high up on the wall over my “bed,” was closed. I could not tell if it was daylight or night time.

  I wondered who had brought me here and the only one I could think of who had the resources to do this was YSA, the York Security Agency. Ash Getner’s organization. I had often wondered when I’d come face to face with my nemesis.

  I sat on the “bed” and rested my forehead in my palms.

  Who knows know many hours it would take for my team to rescue me, if they could. I braced myself for torture. And death.

  #

  Ron got the tag while in the ops center. Hoping it was Jake, his hands shook as he tapped his nostril to open the comm.

  “Gerhi here. I’m at Zor-Franken Airport. Who is this?”

  Ron sighed. “Ron. I’ll come pick you up. Are you ready to go on an op?”

  “I expected as much. How soon can you get here?”

  “I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

  The comm disconnected. Ron stared ahead. He’d have to get used to Gerhi’s abbreviated conversations.

  After telling his team where he was going, Ron looked at Gancha.

  Dressed in a brown pantsuit with yellow lace blouse, she said, “I can pick him up while you stay here and plan the op. Just make sure I have a spot on the team.”

  Ron nodded. “Okay. Take the van. Ruta, tell Chima Gancha is going to the airport.”

  When she departed, he tagged Gerhi to let him know.

  #

  Gancha asked, “Chima, why the two loops?”

  Her answer came back from the overhead speaker. “Possible tail. False alarm though.”

  She smiled at the efficiency of the van’s onboard computer system.

  Soon, the van slowed as it passed by Baggage Claim. Gerhi was easy to spot as the only big man and more muscular than anyone else waiting outside. He waved as he spotted her in the van.

  Ron must have called ahead.

  Gancha offered to help put his luggage in the van but, as usual, Gerhi declined.

  She asked, “How was your trip?”

  Gerhi shrugged.

  Ron had warned her he didn’t talk much.

  Right.

  #

  I lost track of the days as hunger gnawed on my stomach. I banged on the door.

  “Any food in this joint?”

  But only silence answered me.

  Two hours later, I couldn’t tell exactly when, my cell door opened and in walked three huge guys.

  “Time for a little pain,” said one. “Are you going the easy way, or do we have to drug you?”

  That’s when I saw the injector in his right hand.

  What the hell? The pain can wait.

  I stood from my bed and extended my wrists outward. Two of them put iron bracelets on me while the other placed anklets on my legs.

  The lead guard pressed his injector to my upper right arm. Much to my surprise. I thought I was cooperating and wouldn’t need it.

  In seconds, my brain wobbled.

  I walked barefoot and naked down a long hallway, walking as fast as my anklets would allow me. The air and the floor were cold. My cell was on the end and as I passed two other cells on each
side, I wondered who might be in them.

  We stopped in a small room with only bars on the door, all the better for my screams to be heard by fellow prisoners. The only feature was a chair with wrist and ankle straps.

  “Sit,” ordered a guard.

  After I took the chair, two of my guards fastened my forearms with leather straps. Then they secured my lower legs the same way. The three of them walked out to leave me alone and in suspense.

  I didn’t have to wait for long when in walked a short and thin man, dressed in blue jeans and a white dress shirt.

  Oh crap.

  The smaller guys had something to prove by inflicting pain on a bigger man.

  The Little Man carried a small briefcase, which he put on something behind me.

  “You and I are going to get to know each other. I’m going to get to know just how much pain you can tolerate before blacking out.”

  With that he presented a scalpel to the right side of my vision.

  Shit!

  Chapter 41

  In the planning room, Ron, Vincent, Zetto, and Gancha went over three plans for the op. Vincent would stay behind to act as the focal point if anything went wrong. It usually did.

  Since they were going to hit a YSA training center, they could expect lots of trouble, both as they went in and on the way out. So Ron decided to take Zetto, Gancha, and Gerhi.

  The more firepower, the better.

  Every plan included driving the van to the small town of Fairport on the western slopes of the Orca Mountains. The team packed a lot, including heavy clothing.

  Gancha drove the first shift. Snow peppered the roads, making high speed unattainable.

  Hang in there, Jake!

  They stopped at a gas station and restaurant on the nearside of the Seintz River. Gancha filled the van with gas while Zetto and Ron stayed inside. They couldn’t get very far on one tankful of gas because of the extra weight in the van. Gerhi went in the restaurant to order take-out food. Gerhi was the only one who could risk not being recognized. Ron couldn’t bear to have a customer of Stenno’s remember him this close to Zor.

  They drove off with Ron behind the wheel this time. He crossed over the bridge and slowed as the snow came down harder. They couldn’t risk an accident or Jake might never be rescued.

  Twice, they passed flashing lights behind cars and trucks parked on the side of the road.

  Nightfall came and Ron turned on the headlights, which only made driving more difficult. The flakes seemed to come right at his eyes.

  They stopped for gas and changed drivers. The rest of the team slept as much as possible.

  Ron had difficulty getting to sleep.

  I hope Jake isn’t suffering too much.

  #

  The pain in my thighs never ended as my torturer dragged his scalpel from my hips to my knees in parallel lines, going only deep enough to draw blood. And pain, of course. That was the whole point.

  At first I gritted my teeth and tried to hold my screams in. But the Little Man kept it up until I yelled out.

  Eventually, the pain got so bad I blacked out, only to come to in my cell and flat on my back. I didn’t dare touch my thighs. Once was enough.

  I never got to sleep because of the pain in my legs. Didn’t get any food either.

  The next day, the Little Man grinned when I was dragged into the small room. And dragged I was. I couldn’t walk.

  Every hour, after the Little Man cut two ridges in my legs, a second guard, dressed in dark green slacks and shirt, walked in with a bucket, which he proceeded to pour on my thighs to wash away the blood so my torturer could see where to cut next.

  I screamed with the pain from the salt water and pulled on my wrist straps.

  “I’ll kill you for this,” I said to the Little Man between gritted teeth.

  My torturer responded with a chuckle.

  “If you live through it.”

  On the second day of pain, the Little Man shifted to using his scalpel on my left thigh.

  “Remember, all you have to do to stop the pain is talk.”

  #

  I actually dozed off for a few minutes when I heard a hissing noise. I opened my eyes just in time to see a man in a green guard’s uniform holding an injector as he pulled away. Another frickin’ injection.

  Sleep eluded me as the pain in my thighs kept me awake. I had to lie on my back because any other position hurt.

  I wished they’d turn off that damn overhead light!

  This time, when they came for me my whole body didn’t want to cooperate. My knees felt weak and they had to lift me off my hard bed.

  What’s that smell?

  That’s when I realized I needed a bath. It’s amazing how much you can sweat when you endure pain. My guards didn’t seem to care much as they lifted me, one man under each shoulder. My feet dragged behind me on the floor as they carried me down the hallway to the small room with that stupid chair. I didn’t resist as they strapped me in. Couldn’t, as a matter of fact.

  My head bowed low toward my chest and I only saw the shoes and dark blue trousers of the stranger when he came in. My whole body begged to be allowed to fall to the floor and sleep.

  “I am your best friend,” said a voice in front of me. “The only friend you have. I can order the pain to stop. All you have to do is tell me your name.”

  I really wanted to and almost blurted out my name when it dawned on me that the injection I had received was truth serum. My tormentors were using the best tricks.

  I knew that if I spoke even one word about me that would unlock the dam in my head and I might blurt out something that could hurt those I love. After all, if one word was enough to stop the pain, why not give it to them?

  What did my BIS training say about this?

  Keep repeating a mantra over and over again in my head. Don’t tell them anything! Don’t tell them anything!

  It didn’t surprise me when the dark blue trousers left and the Little Man returned.

  Oh dear. Here we go again.

  The first cut flooded my brain with pain. I jerked my head up and gritted my teeth.

  Son of a bitch!

  I heard a voice say, “You will tell us everything before we’re done. Then you’ll beg me to kill you.”

  I swear he smiled when he made first cut of the day and I screamed.

  “After we finish your thighs, we’ll start on your manhood. I’m sure we can find lots of pain there. Remember: All you have to do to stop the pain is give us your name.”

  #

  Vincent sat at a table in the planning room with his laptop in front of him when he received the tag.

  “You’d better leave the ops center,” said the voice of Ron.

  “Got it,” said Vincent with a sigh.

  Ron must be taking no chances that Jake might blurt out the location of the center.

  Vincent closed his laptop and went into the dorm. His next meal might be several hours off so he returned to the kitchen and drank as much milk as he could and grabbed two sandwiches, which he put in a bag. Then he returned to the dorm and packed what clothes could fit into the one suitcase he had there.

  “Ruta, after I leave, can you sterilize all the rooms of the ops center, including the shooting range?”

  “Affirmative.”

  He had programmed the ops center computer to recognize his use of the word “sterilize.” From canisters stored for this purpose, Ruta would spray bleach in all the rooms to destroy any residual DNA.

  Not wanting to leave by the front door in case it was watched, he pressed the wall where the escape stair was located. The fit was tight as he climbed the spiral stairs with his suitcase and exited another door to come out on the basement parking lot.

  #

  The team arrived on the outskirts of Fairport on the western side of the Orca Mountains, and stopped before coming to the fence around the town. Fairport had maybe two thousand residents, in separate homes snuggled close together. Each was visible under a plum
e of white vapor.

  Ron sat in the driver’s seat and stared straight ahead at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Since it was daylight, he could see a long distance. He looked in the mirror and saw the van’s tire tracks were visible. Snow had stopped falling and he put on sunglasses to cut the glare from the white stuff on the ground.

  Gancha sat in the seat next to him and yawned.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Just outside Fairport,” he replied. “Chima, wake the others and get ready for driving off the road. Change your outside color to white.”

  The weather forecast said more snow in the next hour or two.

  Good. That should cover our tracks.

  Ron turned the wheel to the left and drove over rough ground. The van bounced as they traveled.

  Zetto was the first to respond.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Just outside Fairport,” Gancha replied.

  Ron followed the path that Vincent had outlined but even so, the ride was rough.

  It took two hours for Ron to drive with the fence on his right before he turned left again to head toward Fairport Base on a dirt road. Ron only knew the road was there because the tree line stopped and the land was flat. Snow fell on the van’s tracks.

  He followed the road as it climbed up the side of a mountain and stopped when he leveled off with the outer fence of the base visible ahead. There was a guard shack at the only opening in the fence around the YSA base but he could not see any vapors coming off its roof. Hopefully that meant no guards.

  “Chima, can you paint the outside toward the shack with camouflage to match the bushes and trees around here?”

  “Consider it done.”

  He drove off the road a hundred yards and stopped.

  “We park here,” he said to the others.

  He didn’t want to alert the base to their presence.

  Gancha and Gehri busied themselves putting up a tent on the side of the van away from the fence.

  Zetto and Gerhi carried their equipment to the tent. The wooden polished rails were the heaviest.

  The team slept and ate in the BIS van.

  Ron had trouble getting to sleep.

  I hope Jake can hang in there a little longer.

  #

  This time I felt the injection but didn’t move. I was so tired I didn’t want to move at all.