Shadow Memories: A Novel (The Singularity Conspiracy Book 1)

by Nicholas Erik

  “No, but they will. They probably figure we’re hiding somewhere else. But this place shouldn’t be too hard to find. Not for professionals.”

  “Yeah, it’s like we’re dealing with the CIA.”

  “Worse.”

  “Lovely. Today’s been full of surprises.”

  “Kurt—”

  “So how deep does this go, Cassie?”

  “I’ve been seeing him for a couple of months.”

  “I meant the Guardians. Although that’s a nice piece of information, too. Good for focus.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Deep, I guess. They’ve been fighting the Singularity for thousands of years.”

  “And how far have you gone with it?”

  “Pretty far.”

  “Good,” I said, “glad that all the cards are on the table, now. It’s refreshing, isn’t it?” Ames groaned. “See, he agrees.”

  “Don’t.”

  “The Beacon your buddy Bob told me to grab,” I said, flipping the dragon figurine her way. She caught it with jet-like reflexes, glowering at my nonchalance. “You know that was here? I mean, before I came crashing through the stained glass and told you.”

  “No.”

  “Wow, I knew something the great Cassie Atwood didn’t. What do you think of that?”

  “There’s only five of these left,” she said, getting on the floor, “Jordan, where’d you get this?”

  “…Auction.” He mumbled out.

  I was rifling through the shelves when I stumbled upon a bottle of whiskey. Aged 18 years. Not bad. I took a drink and held it up to Ames’ lips. He gulped at it.

  Don’t ever say I’m not a nice guy, ‘cause that about sealed the deal.

  “What auction,” Cassie said, pressing on.

  He whispered something, but it was pretty much gibberish. His eyes closed. I checked his pulse; still alive, just weak.

  “He tell you where to find a secret cave?”

  “No, he doesn’t fucking know anything,” Cassie said, “he’s innocent.”

  “My heart breaks for him. But let’s get back to the interesting stuff. You. Shadow. Guardians.”

  Now, that was a hell of a story.

  52

  Cassie’s Origin Story

  My dad, he’s a real fucker.

  But he’s still my father. Every little girl needs one, right? So does every big girl.

  He wasn’t always a fucker, just when it counted. Maybe I’ll forgive him at some point.

  I doubt it.

  Seven years ago, I made the SFPD. Right out of the academy. A rookie, on the beat. Nothing glamorous, but a good job, decent pay. The American way.

  My dad was there at graduation, near the front of the crowd. That’s the last good memory I have of him.

  Because after that night, he fucked everything up.

  And that’s how I ended up with you, Kurt. A small-time, decent-hearted, not-even-felon.

  The type of guy movies are made about, right?

  Back to the story, all right—enough with the barbs and the hatred. I’m sure you’re feeling those well enough right now, as it is. I fucked you up pretty good. But it’s what we Atwoods do to the people we care about.

  Just don’t care enough about ya to, you know, curb our shitty tendencies.

  That night, we celebrated. Some people from our class. A guy named Floyd Tyler, in particular. But I’ve told you enough about other guys for the time being, and I doubt you want to hear more. Nothing happened between us. Just for the story, he was kind of a pussy. Like he wanted to fuck me, but didn’t have the balls.

  If you’re thinking that women consider that cute, then you got another thing coming.

  We were slamming back the shots. We didn’t have to go to work until Monday, after all. That left two days for partying and breaking in our new, lofty titles. The things you do when you’re young. Or younger.

  I’m not that old. Don’t ever tell a girl that, either, Kurt. You would, so I’m telling you, fucking don’t. You’ll be jacking off for a month in the shower if you pull a stunt like that.

  “You’re pretty hot, for a cop,” Tyler said, the whiskey dribbling all over him.

  “You’re not bad yourself,” I said. What can I say, it was flowing. We were feeling good. The blonde haired kiddie shtick he had wasn’t looking bad. Just felt all wrong. Like not much of a man.

  What happened next is a scene out of any fucked-up family photo album. The sucker punch to the jaw, the young kid already two sheets to the wind, blown to the ground. Tooth on the counter.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” my dad said afterward, shaking out his hand. Like nothing happened.

  But I could forgive all that. It was sweet enough, in its own way, when the guy he goes Frazier on is wearing blue, a person of authority, and Shadow was just wearing a pressed suit, answering to an authority of his own.

  “This is bad, little girl.” That’s what he called me. Little girl. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ll understand when I have a kid. Can you imagine that, me with a kid? What about you and me with a kid—a disaster, right?

  “No shit,” I said, but smiling, because I was drunk and he was still my father, “you assaulted a cop.”

  “I’m talking about something else.”

  “No,” I said, “not this. Not now.”

  “Yeah now, little girl.” I shut up and listened. “I’ve made some mistakes in my life…” He pointed at the bartender and threw two fingers out, downing the drink almost as soon as it settled into the glass. “Bottom line, kid, is this. I’ve pissed some people off.”

  “Some tough guy you are,” I said, and chuckled, because I thought it was clever.

  My dad, though, he just shook his goddamn head. Like that damn dog you got, Fox, when you’re not around. Melancholy dripping from the mother fucker.

  “I need you to take this,” and that’s when he shoved that Beacon in my hand that you did such a good job of destroying, like a brain-dead cunt, “and whatever comes next, kid, keep it safe. From me. From all of us.”

  “You’re not making sense, Daddy,” I said, and I didn’t think it was the drinks at the time, and now I know it wasn’t the drinks, knew it right after I sobered up in the morning.

  “All in time,” he said, “all in time.”

  There was a scrum at the front of the bar. I figured it was just a couple of peckerwoods in a dick checking contest, but no, it was whoever was after him. My dad, he liked to gamble. Most people do, they just don’t all do it with money.

  He did it with money. And we didn’t have much, so he couldn’t lose much.

  But when you rub elbows with a criminal element, you can latch on to sleaze balls to protect you from the other sleaze balls. It’s all a fucking merry-go-round.

  That’s how he explained it, anyway, right as those guys were scrambling at the door, making their way over.

  Two clowns not much older than me, but big guys. Grown strong, whatever fucking patch of cabbages they were pulled out of watered with steroids and nutrition supplements.

  And they say to my dad, “Come with us. Like you agreed.”

  And he doesn’t knock them out or do anything like that, he just says to me, “Don’t forget what I just said, little girl.”

  And he left without even saying goodbye. No hug, no explanation. Just gone with those two assholes.

  But the gambling angle, that was bullshit. He wasn’t into someone deep for cash. Because now I hear my father’s name whispered with the Singularity. Through the Guardians, whispered on their network. I hear it all the time.

  Shadow, they say, Shadow knows things. Knows too much. He’s dangerous. He’s ruthless, won’t stop at anything to find the remaining Guardians. And he used to be one of us.


  And that’s why my dad is a real fucker. Because he gave me a job, didn’t explain it to me, then left me alone. And now he fights against me, against us.

  Which is what hurts bad, like whiskey on gash.

  And to make it all worse, to drive that stake through my heart all the way, now he’s coming after me, the closest things I have to family. You. The Guardians.

  He’s hunting me. My life.

  Not the one I chose. Not one I even like.

  But it’s mine now.

  Fuck him.

  Because he’s never gonna get it back.

  53

  Found

  There’d been no activity outside during the duration of the story.

  Not that I was paying attention to reality. Cassie had me fascinated, even if I wanted to scream at her and maybe boot her nice ass off a tall building.

  It was eerie, having the house this quiet, after it’d been blowing up around us.

  “Well,” I said, “that’s a hell of a story.”

  “Ain’t it, though?”

  “So you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t know until that day in the cave, Kurt. Just like I fucking said.”

  “And these other Guardians. How do we get in contact with them?”

  “You can’t, at least not person to person. It’s all encrypted, via the program on my computer. We communicate, but no names, no locations.”

  “Just in case someone like Daddy Shadow goes turncoat on the enterprise?”

  “Something like that.”

  “He’s not going to make it,” I said, throwing a thumb towards Ames, “we gotta do something.”

  “There’s nothing to do but wait.”

  “All these plans, and now we’re stuck in here without backup, without the cavalry?”

  “They’ll come,” Cassie said, turning her eyes back to the monitors, “someone will come.”

  “Let’s all hope. Pray. He should have put the panic room in the chapel, so we could have at least gotten some karma points there.”

  “It won’t be God that comes and saves us.”

  I threw up my hands, like yeah, she was right. There wasn’t anything much more to say. Outside, there was a tapping on the walls, like someone looking for a safe. A hollow core in something that was supposed to be solid.

  The taps passed over us, then redoubled.

  Muffled shouts. Excited.

  Found.

  54

  The Guy on the Left

  They couldn’t get in. Not with explosives, at least. But somehow I doubted that old Otto would give up—just shuffle off into the sunset and regroup. Nah, he played to win.

  A couple minutes passed.

  Then a drilling noise ground in from above, shaking the metal chamber.

  They were going to jackhammer in. Or whatever the equivalent was. I felt like a sewer rat waiting for the exterminator to drop a pest bomb on my head. Only a matter of time.

  I nudged up against Cassie and looked at the feeds. Movement, on the outskirts of the courtyard.

  On the inside, too, but that was nothing new. I could hear most of that.

  But outside, a couple black vans rolled up near the door, the good old cavalry coming in to save the day. Or get blown away. A stream of armored guards poured out from the back. These must have been the Guardians’ local security that Cassie was talking about.

  Some red and blue lights followed. SWAT. Things were looking up. That wasn’t even mentioning the half dozen regular cruisers. And ambulance.

  The commander had a brief, spirited discussion with the cop in charge, who threw up his hands in a screw it, this is way over my pay grade show of exasperation before allowing them to pass.

  “What do you think their chances are?” I asked, looking at the camera covering the front door. They were about to breach. Inside, the Singularity’s men had stopped milling around, and everyone—except for the few tasked with cracking the safe room—was hurrying into defensive positions.

  “Less than 50-50.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” I said. “There’s a shitload of them.”

  “Bullets?”

  I slid the clip out and checked.

  “Full.” I should have brought the .38 along. But Bob had been insistent about no weapons, no mess. First I was late, now this. He’d be one very pissed off Guardian if I made it out alive.

  “Make your shots count,” Cassie said, examining her own ammo stock with a grim look.

  “I don’t get it. How are we going to shoot anyone from in here?”

  “Kurt,” she said, “we’re going to shoot them out there. You get the guy outside the door.”

  “I’m not going out there.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” she said, pointing at the basement monitor, “because they’re coming in.”

  There was a guy at the central security box, tapping on a laptop, wires strewn all over the place. Oh shit. He was going to override the security, trigger the doors.

  And that was if the guy drilling in didn’t beat him to us.

  The panic room began to open, and I glanced back at the monitor. One guy out in the dining hall, gun propped up on the window. A high gunner. I saw him begin to cock his head, like a dog that knew something wasn’t quite right.

  The doors were opening too soon. Because Cassie had triggered them.

  A sliver of light shot in through the doors, and I fired, not knowing where I was aiming.

  I saw him drop on the screen.

  Cassie walked out, looking behind me with an arched eyebrow.

  “Nice shot. You been practicing?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, and followed her to the window. She took ammunition from his pack and shoved the oversized rifle into my arms.

  “You put your hand here,” she said, placing my fingers on the stock, “and the other one here. Then you aim. Got it? Bullets go in here when you’re done.”

  “Glorious.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Outside, dim flashes illuminated the night. But, thus far, it looked like the real firefight hadn’t yet begun.

  “What about him,” I said, looking back at Ames’ slumped form, blood edging around him.

  “We leave him be and hope that we clear everyone out in time. Let’s hope he can play dead.”

  I nodded, and followed her down the hall. From the monitors, most of the guys were entrenched around the stairwell facing the door, although a few of them were perched high, near our position on the second floor.

  I rounded the corner just in time for Cassie to fire off a burst, dropping a soldier at the end of the hall.

  “Where’d he come from?”

  “Guns make noise.”

  “Ah, I hadn’t noticed.”

  “And, on that note,” she said, “we should keep moving.”

  We scurried down the hall, stopping to once again pilfer more supplies from our enemies. From the monitors, there was still twenty, thirty soldiers left. These Singularity guys, they didn’t mess around. When they wanted something, they pulled out all the stops.

  Cassie held up her hand. I’d seen enough movies to know that this meant slow down and tread soft. I could do that. I’d broken into a house or two in my day. Our steps slowed into a silent shuffle as we crept by the doors—around the guest wing where we’d been holed up earlier—checking them for soldiers.

  Up ahead was the blackened maw—a few missing doors—where they’d tried to blow us out. Teach them to do that again, with those results. In the room opposite our old hiding spot, two guards stood, scoped rifles scanning the courtyard below.

  I peered at Cassie, who was on the other side of the door frame. She nodded to the one on the right. That was hers. I gulped and looked at the other one, steadying my gun against the frame. Sh
e shook her head and unsheathed her knife.

  Great. I had no backup silent-kill weapon. I glanced at my hands, wondering if they’d fail me. Not that I had lots of time to mull over my situation. Cassie’s fingers counted down three-two-one, and then we rushed in.

  I jumped on the guy’s back, trying to get my arms around his throat in a sort of bear hug. He grunted and yelled—a little loud, but then, it couldn’t be helped—bucking me like an untamed horse. I held on, and he smashed me up against the wall. I let go just as I saw Cassie fly into view, stab him right in the throat.

  He crumpled in front of me, gurgling and coughing. She knelt down and finished the job, wiping the blade on the carpet before placing it back in her boot.

  “Thanks,” I said, standing up and stretching out my shoulders. I took a look over to her guy; he was in the same place where I’d first seen him, only on the ground. Clean, quick.

  “Get your gun out again,” she said, “they might be coming.”

  I grabbed the pistol from my waistband and peered out the door both ways, like I was crossing a bullet-strewn street. Screw the assault rifle. The kickback on that thing would knock me out.

  I saw no one.

  “How many were up here?”

  “Five. So one more, if no one else comes to check things out.” She went back and yanked one of the radios from the fallen soldiers. “Radio silence. They’re afraid that our boys will intercept the bands.”

  “Right. Yeah, of course. Makes sense,” I said, even when none of it did. She was in hyper-cop mode. “Where to next?” As enticing as the aroma of charred drywall and bloody carpet was, I could do without hanging out in this part of Ames’ residence any longer.

  “The back stairs.”

  “Why not the front? We can sneak up behind them and—”

  “Two against a dozen? We didn’t do so well with even odds,” she said, which made my ears turn a little red. Not that I had anything to be ashamed about; it was clear that one of us had a lot more practice than the other.

  “Lead the way,” I said.