Erika stopped searching. “You’re joking, right? A light saber?”
“It’s very cutting edge. Or was cutting edge. For our time. It’s called a metal vapor torch.”
Erika didn’t want to waste time looking for something from a nerd-boy’s sci-fi fantasy. “Doc, we’ve got what we need. Let’s just go. We need to get that antiviral before the pipes burst and flood this place.”
Dr. Randall rifled through another locker. “We need this tool. How else will we get through locked doors? Unless you’ve developed telekinesis.”
“I figured that’s what the grenades are for.”
“’Nades don’t work that way. Now stop wasting time. Help me search.”
Erika opened another locker. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“It’s a metal cylinder about this long.” He held up his hands about a foot away from each other. “Looks a bit like a law enforcement flashlight. Black.”
Erika pulled doors off hinges and searched locker after locker. There were more rifles and grenades, blocks of C-4 now useless because the electronics that would detonate it were corroded. She tripped over a long box on the floor. Her toe throbbed. She cursed the box and was stepping over it when she decided she better take a look inside.
The top had been locked, but the lock and hinges were so rusted they disintegrated when she moved them. Erika reached her hand in and searched around. Her fingers touched something cool and metal. A cylinder shape. “Dr. Randall – over here.”
He knelt across from her and nearly tumbled trying to sit on his haunches. “I’m too old for this,” he said wryly. He reached into the rotting wooden crate and pulled the metal tube out. “Yes. This is it.” He held it up for her to see, and it did, in fact, look like a crude light saber. “I have no idea if it will work, but if it does, it will cut through steel. Can also cut through a limb, so we need to be careful with it.”
“Great. More dangerous things.”
He caught her eye. “It may be exactly what we need.”
Dr. Randall rummaged through the crate and came up with two more torches. He handed one to Erika, put one in his already-stuffed pocket and shoved the other into a ratty backpack he’d found. “Be very careful with this.”
“I will.” Erika wedged it into her bulging pocket.
“I’m serious. If they still work, it will shoot a jet of flame over 2700 Celsius at a mile a second.”
“Sounds to me like it could be a very effective weapon.”
Dr. Randall was still pillaging the crate. “Maybe. But we need to save them for the doors.” He stood up and held another smaller cylinder out to Erika. “That’s a refill cartridge. We’ve only got six of them. If they all work, that is. So we need to use them judiciously.”
As she exited the weapons room, Erika handed Xenos a rifle.
“What is this?” Xenos held the gun out from her body as if it smelled foul.
“It’s called a gun. It’s a weapon. You shoot it. Come. We’ll get away from the weapons room and I’ll show you. At least I’ll show you how it’s supposed to work. Don’t know yet if it actually will.”
Dr. Randall was already heading rapidly back the way they’d come. Erika had to jog to catch up. Xenos was soon at her side, still carrying the gun out and away from her body like it would bite her.
Erika trotted behind Dr. Randall as he wound his way through the halls. The floor was slick in spots from the water dripping through cracks in the ceiling. Erika slipped a few times and nearly fell but was able to right herself. The fear of falling on one of the guns she had strapped to her back was enough to motivate her body to find its balance.
Xenos had kept pace with Dr. Randall but soon lagged. She was about twenty paces behind.
“Dr. Randall, stop for a minute. Xenos.” She called over her shoulder to the Infractus, “Hey? Are you all right?”
Xenos caught up to her and breathed heavily. “I am – tired. The water makes me –”
“Sedated,” Dr. Randall said.
Erika had been worried that would happen. Though she felt bad that Xenos was adversely affected, it also meant that the Conexus were likely affected as well. In fact, because she had some human DNA, Xenos should be less affected than the Conexus. At least that was what Erika hoped.
“Come on. I know you’re tired, but you need to keep up. We have to get the medicine for Ian. Then we can try to get out of here.”
Xenos nodded and Dr. Randall resumed their journey. They encountered no Conexus in the halls, and Erika was glad of it. She hadn’t yet had the chance to test the gun in her hands.
But it also concerned her. Erika stopped and waited for Xenos to catch up. “Why haven’t we seen any Conexus down here?”
Xenos breathed heavily. “They … never … come this far from Upper … Tro. This area … off … limits to most.”
It seemed a strange rule to Erika, but she was glad of it. But it also meant that they would likely not have the same luck the closer they got to the antiviral.
The farther away from the weapons cache they got, the drier it became. While there was still hissing and groaning in the concrete ceiling above them, there was no dripping water. The floors were mostly dry. Maybe the water hasn’t found its way here yet? Maybe it never will.
Dr. Randall rounded a corner and nearly ran into two small beings that had been walking the hall toward them. In the same instant that Erika’s brain registered that they were Conexus, her head was filled with the piercing pain it had known before. Not again. She didn’t have time to think her way out of the problem or how to avoid bloodshed. Erika thought only that she wanted to make the pain stop.
She remembered Tex’s words. “Build a wall around your thoughts,” he’d said. Erika concentrated as best she could, and as she did, she realized some of the pain was from a subtle pressure, as though her head was being squeezed. She envisioned a force field around her head and pushed back. The pain didn’t stop, but it didn’t get worse either. I can do this.
Erika ignored the pain as best she could. Adrenaline hijacked her nervous system and she was on autopilot. She pulled a rifle off her back and raised it, her hands shaking. There was no red dot to help her aim. It was dark and she was exhausted. Her finger trembled over the trigger, but she pulled it. There was a pitiful click but no explosion of gunfire, no smell of burning gunpowder.
The pain swelled inside her head like a fiery lotus blossom opening. She pulled the trigger again, but it was no use. The gun was a dud. She dropped it to the ground and pulled another off her back. Erika pulled the trigger, and this time the sound of gunfire ricocheted off the concrete walls. She fired round after round, hoping that at least one of them hit the thing that made her head pound with pain. The rifle had wicked recoil. The butt of it jammed into her shoulder with each round fired. Her shoulder throbbed, but she kept the trigger pressed.
“Erika, stop!” Dr. Randall yelled.
Two more rounds were fired before Erika’s finger obeyed Dr. Randall’s command. The pain in her head was gone.
Dr. Randall put his hand on her shoulder. “You got them, my dear. No need to make mincemeat pie out of them.”
The smell of sulfur hung in the air and mixed with the smell of blood. Two small, thin bodies lay in a heap about five feet away. Their clothes were tattered by bullets and stained dark with blood. The hall was silent save for Xenos’ quiet crying, the overhead lights now flickering.
Erika would have liked to join Xenos in a good cry, not only for the two lives she’d just taken but for all of it. But there was no time to wallow in a puddle of tears. She pushed the feelings of sadness and guilt and the ones of anger too aside. Erika’s mind was on a single track. We’ve got to get medicine for Ian.
She didn’t look down as she stepped over the bodies she’d just killed to catch up to Dr. Randall. Erika called back over her shoulder, “Come on, Xenos. We still have a ways to go.”
Xenos walked so quietly that Erika wouldn’t have known she was behind th
em except for the girl’s quiet whimpering.
At least Erika knew some of the guns worked. She focused on that as she jogged behind Dr. Randall.
23
JACK
It took them another two days of hard driving to make it from Amarillo, Texas, to New York. It turns out Anna had worn herself out in the first couple of days. Once out of Texas, Jack ended up doing most of the driving. He was glad to have the wheel beneath his fingers and to leave the miles of open range behind.
They arrived at Thomas’ place in Brooklyn just after noon on the fifth day of their journey. Anna wedged the car into a space that looked too small even for a Fiat. It was clear she’d parallel parked into a tiny city space more than a few times. She drove like a cabby. Their beat-up car looked at home in the neighborhood of aging brownstones. Anna’s luxury car would have looked out of place.
“We’ll have to walk a few blocks. There wasn’t a space by his apartment.”
Jack was happy to stretch. The walk in the brisk late October air was refreshing. He was glad for the down jacket Anna had bought for him. He’d lived his whole life in Arizona and wasn’t used to the damp cold.
When she’d said a few blocks, Jack imagined walking a mile or so. Blocks in the west were larger, apparently, than New York blocks because they were there in less than five minutes.
Anna made her way through the double doors and pushed a button next to a handwritten nameplate that said ‘T. Sturgis’. After a minute or so, she rang again.
This time a gruff voice snarled, “I’m busy. Go away.”
Anna answered quickly before he had time to ring off. “It’s Anna. And Jack.”
“About time. I’ll buzz you.”
The buzzer sounded like it was broken, but the door lock clicked, and Anna pulled it open quickly. “Come on.” She trudged up the stairs.
Thomas lived on the third floor at the farthest end of the hall. The floors were covered in carpet that looked like it had been there about twenty years longer than it should have been. The walls were painted puke green and the plaster was peeling in spots. They passed at least six other apartments on the way to Thomas’, all the same nondescript dark, brown wooden doors. Either the building was mostly empty at the moment or the tenants were incredibly quiet.
Anna stood before the last door and buzzed the doorbell. A lock clicked and then another. A deadbolt pulled and a second. Finally a chain was undone and the door opened.
“Damn, Thomas, you’ve got more locks than Fort Knox,” Anna said. She breezed past Thomas like she lived there.
Thomas eyed Jack up and down as he entered. He pulled his lip up in a disgusted look. Jack didn’t know if the guy had taken an instant dislike to him or if he just wasn’t a fan of having people in his house in general.
Anna had said that Thomas was her twin, but Jack found it hard to believe. Thomas had blond hair, but that was about where the resemblance to Anna ended. His eyes were hazel, not sparkling blue. His face was long and gaunt. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his chin was covered in at least a week’s worth of growth. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in at least as long. He wore a grey T-shirt with an unbuttoned green checked flannel over it. His tan chinos hung on him like he either bought them a size too large or he’d lost weight. His feet were bare and his toenails needed a trim. He stared at Jack through thick glasses covered in fingerprints and dust.
“Hello,” Jack said.
Thomas grunted in reply. He closed the door and proceeded to lock all the locks he’d undone to let them in.
Jack walked into a small hallway large enough for only one person to stand in comfortably. He passed a galley kitchen on his left. It was littered with take-out boxes, newspapers and Coke cans. It might have been a nice kitchen, but it was hard to tell. No surface was visible beneath the piles of trash.
The hallway opened into a fairly large living area. There was a couch tucked into a corner to the left. It, too, was covered in piles of papers, legal pads and newspapers. The sofa had a small indentation in the middle. It looked as though Thomas had carved it out of the piles for a place to sit.
There was a wall of casement windows that looked out to a courtyard. The blinds were closed, making the room dingy. Anna pulled the cords and opened the blinds, allowing a cascade of bright light in through the bank of windows. The golden wood floors gleamed in the areas that weren’t covered in piles of paper and Chinese food boxes.
The bulk of the room was taken up by a large, crescent-shaped desk. The glass-topped desk was covered with six computer screens of various sizes arranged in a semicircle with a wheeled executive chair in the middle. The rest of the place looked like a dump that was probably lived in by a reclusive guy who lived off a social security check. But the computer equipment skewed the picture in another direction. Jack doubted that the allegedly brilliant but apparently mentally messed-up Thomas could be much help to them.
Anna wrapped both arms around Thomas and squeezed. He briefly put a perfunctory arm around her back and looked awkward doing it.
“I’m sorry I had to be incommunicado for the last few days. I couldn’t risk a phone call or email.”
“I know.”
“And speaking of incommunicado …” Anna’s eyes roved about the room.
“We’re fine. I did a sweep a few days ago. Only ears listening are our own.”
“Okay, a few days like the real world counts it, or a few days in your mind, which could be months?”
Thomas scooped stacks of papers off the couch and arranged them on the floor in the same order they’d been on the couch. When he was done, the couch was revealed to be beautifully worn black leather. Thomas gestured for them to sit, and they did while he cleared a space off an overstuffed chair facing them.
“I keep a calendar. You can check it yourself. I marked it off two days ago for a sweep.”
The more he observed of the Sturgis twins, the more Jack suspected they were both paranoid delusional. It must run in the family. They were like their aunt Lilly. The Sturgis family seemed to have a rogue gene for bat-shit crazy.
As if she could read his mind, Anna said, “I know this probably seems overly paranoid to you, doesn’t it, Jack?”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say overly, but –”
Thomas’ voice was defensive. “You have no idea what we’re dealing with.”
“Actually, I think he has some idea. Mr. Wilson spent a few weeks underground. The real underground with our aunt Lilly.”
Thomas raised his left eyebrow. “And lived to tell about it. Impressive.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think he’s feeling very lucky about the whole thing. He’s sort of stuck with our craziness for a while until we spring Aunt Lilly from prison.”
Thomas laughed a wry laugh. “You? And him?” He laughed some more. “Sis, you’re good, but not even you can infiltrate a federal military prison.”
Jack hadn’t thought of it that way. He was just trying to get through each day without thinking too hard about all he’d lost or what danger was around the corner. But hearing Thomas put it like that made it sound colossally crazy and doomed to fail.
“Well, I hope I’ll have your help, too,” Anna said.
He shook his head. “You know I don’t leave here. I’m no good to you out there.”
“I know that. I’m not expecting you to go with me. That’s why I’ve got Jack here. But we need you to do reconnaissance. Lend us your hacking genius when needed.”
Thomas stopped laughing. “Oh. Well, I can do that.”
“Yes, I know you can. And Jack and I won’t be alone. That’s why we’re here. We need to pick up someone essential to the success of our plan.”
Thomas sneered. “If you’re looking for Iron Man, he’s more of a West Coast guy. You could have picked him up on your way to Miramar.”
“This isn’t a joke, Thomas. We need Alecto.”
“You know you’ll never make it past the stupid doorman let alone Croft’s per
sonal security system and guards, don’t you?”
Jack shifted on his seat. Thomas’ doubt was infectious.
“We have to. And that’s why we came here. I need your help.”
Thomas’ eyes were wide and he shook his head vigorously. “No. You can’t ask this of me. And you can’t do this. It’s too risky.”
“Thomas, look at me.”
He pulled his knees into his chest. Thomas wrapped his arms around his bony knees and muttered, “No, you can’t do this. No, you can’t. I won’t.” His eyes were fixed forward.
Anna got up and knelt in front of him. She put her hands on his. “Thomas, stay with me and listen. Thomas.” She pulled his hands away and held them in her own. She raised her voice. “Thomas, listen. We have to stop them. If we don’t, they’ll kill Aunt Lilly and it’s just a matter of time before Croft orders us – all of us Sturgises – killed as well. Thomas, I need you. Help me become this.”
Anna put Thomas’ hand on the gold butterfly necklace she wore around her neck. His long, thin finger traced the outline of the butterfly and tears filled his eyes. A single tear streaked Anna’s cheek.
Thomas’ eyes met Anna’s. “I don’t … I can’t lose you. Without you, I’ll –”
“I know,” she said. “And I can’t lose you, either. But don’t you see? Alecto answers to our aunt Lilly. And Croft put Lizzy in charge of reprogramming. I know Lizzy. She’s not as persuasive as she thinks she is. I doubt she’s gotten Alecto to turn on Aunt Lilly. And with Alecto on our side, we can fight back. I’m not going to sit and wait for Croft to decide he’s had enough of arguing with Father and order us all killed like he did the Elliots. Father will push him too far. You know he will, Thomas.”
Jack was confused. Anna had led him to believe that she was on an altruistic mission to liberate Alecto and her aunt so they could steal the antiviral away from Croft and make it available to all instead of only those with enough money to secure their place in the New World Order. But now she was focused on saving the Sturgises’ butts. Is she a savior or a self-centered mercenary?
H.A.L.F.: The Makers Page 15