by A. R. Crebs
After traveling at almost top speed for so long, once the car slowed, the force nearly pulled Aria and Troy out of their seats. The sun had already moved across the sky and had lowered on the horizon, the temperature dropping on the outside. From what Aria could tell, they were far west of their territory, mountains stretching on the horizon.
“They’ve turned off the road,” Aren murmured. The beeping of the homing device quickened as they neared Camery’s position.
“Where?” Aria asked.
“Here,” Troy joined in, pointing at the GPS map.
Aren slowed to a halt. “They’ve stopped,” he informed.
Aria leaned to the side, inspecting the map. From where they were, a mile up ahead was a small mountain range. From the looks of it, Camery had pulled onto one of the sides of the mountains.
“That’s not right. There are no functioning cities out here. Why would he come here?” she questioned.
“Bathroom break?” Aren suggested.
“Quite the turn off for a bathroom break. I say we go in,” Troy suggested to Aria.
She was silent a moment, checking their surroundings. “Get your weapon ready. We have no idea what we can be walking into. Aren, pull as close as you can to their location, but stay out of sight. We’ll walk the rest of the way and search the area.”
Aren pulled forward, turning off the road toward the mountainside where Camery had traveled to. He kept his car straight, planting his tire tracks over the others. As they climbed the mountainside, the scenery changed to one of green grass and tall trees. The path became muddy, the car jostling as it ran over rocks and branches.
“Never seen anything like it….” Troy gaped out the window. “Not in real life, I mean, on the outside.”
“Look, snow on the mountaintops.” Aria pointed. “The water must flow just right where the sun doesn’t dry it out. Looks like this area gets lots of water.”
“Makes you wonder how many places in the world aren’t actually dead,” Aren said, glancing through the windshield at the mountaintops above.
“Looks like the running trails,” Aria said, being reminded of her afternoon jog at the rehabilitation center.
The car neared a bend. The tracer alarm called out. They were close.
“Park it here. We’ll get out and take a look,” she instructed.
Aren stopped the car, the engine rumbling to silence. Aria exited first with her Fernstal in hand. She pressed against the rocky mountainside next to the vehicle, waiting for Troy to join her side. He soon was with her, gripping his newly released Sub-Fernstal P20. His secondary mag was equipped with SABO grenades. She glanced at him and held up a fist, eyeing Aren as he dropped low next to Troy with his Air Force issued handgun with auto-aim.
Aria opened her mouth to speak, but Aren interrupted. “I’m not waiting in the car. I need to see what you see. If anything happens, I’ll be backup.”
“Don’t get yourself killed,” Aria whispered harshly.
With a press against her mental chip, an optical retina materialized over Aria's right eye. She tilted her gun; the camera on the tip projected the image from around the corner into her line of sight.
“I can see the car. It’s parked outside…a house. At least, it looks like a house,” she said quietly.
“Any watches?” Troy asked.
“No, none detected. I’m going to switch to thermal view.” She pressed on the tip of the weapon, changing the sight to thermal detection. “No one on the outside. I can see some figures on the inside, though. There appears to be three heat signatures. One is vague, perhaps in another room.” Aria continued watching. “Three male.”
Troy lifted his gun over her head, catching a sight of his own.
“There’s a side entry to the right. We won’t have to cross any windows,” Troy murmured.
“Any security devices?” Aren asked.
Aria glanced at the young man. Looking through her camera, she set off an Electronic-Sonar detector. There was a small hum, and multiple blips showed up in her vision. “Two to the left, one to the right. Another at the front door.”
“Camery is a bit paranoid,” Troy said.
“Or is it Walten?” Aria asked.
The woman pulled her weapon to her side. Kneeling, she dug into Troy’s pocket, the man not caring much as it was something she always did when she needed more ammo. Pulling out a few concussive rounds, she loaded the gun and aimed around the corner again, firing and shooting out the cameras. Her optical viewer switched back to thermal, and she could see the three men inside the home move into alerted states.
“Damn it, I think they noticed,” Aria heaved a heavy sigh. “Moving to the right. Cover me. Aren, stay low.”
She rounded the corner in a crouching position. The three heat signatures quickly faded.
“I think they’ve moved into hiding. Stay alert. Could be an ambush,” Aria spoke through her mental chip.
Staying close to the rock wall, Aria and Troy neared the door on the side of the house. Aren stayed behind a boulder, keeping a watchful eye on the front door with his weapon at the ready. Giving a couple of hand signals, Aria leaned against the house, crouching. Troy quietly opened the screen door and heaved forward, his foot crushing against the wooden entry. He rolled to the side as Aria took point with her Fernstal aimed. The two rushed through the home, Troy checking the side room, Aria searching the kitchen. There wasn’t a sound, and the house was in pitch-black. Aria turned one corner into the main living room and was blinded by a bright light, a loud siren disorienting her. Someone crashed into her, flipping her onto her stomach. She groaned, pushing against the man that held her firmly in place. The feeling of the cold barrel of a weapon pressed against her temple made her freeze.
“Move one inch, and you’ll be staining the carpet with your brains,” a harsh voice hissed in her ear.
“Same goes for you,” Troy said, pressing the barrel of his weapon at the back of the other man’s head.
“How about nobody moves, and nobody dies?” yet another voice sounded along with the cocking of a handgun’s slide, this time from behind Troy.
Troy frowned, debating his situation.
“Why doesn’t everybody just lower their damn weapons and we can avoid a potential massacre?” Aren called out. Aria could see the young man’s silhouette in the entryway of the home though her vision was moving in all directions thanks to the disorienting frag. “Come on, no one’s in a winning position. Why don’t we settle this over a cup of coffee or something, huh?”
“Just do what the boy says!” A frightened voice called out; this one was clearly Camery. “I don’t want any more people dying.”
There was a long pause before anybody dared to move. After a few grueling seconds, a small lamp illuminated the living area. Troy lowered his weapon first, raising a hand. Turning slowly, he eyed the man holding him up from behind.
“Grayson?!” Troy shouted.
The man in the black dress suit quickly lowered and holstered his handgun. At the same time, the man holding Aria hostage quickly released her.
“Aria?! Dear God! I almost killed you!” James Clarke dropped his weapon, helping the woman to her feet. She held onto his shoulders, trying to regain her balance.
“J, James?” she asked, trying to focus on his face.
“I thought you were dead!” he sputtered, pulling her into a tight hug.
Aria gave a muffled groan.
Aren quickly lowered his weapon, watching the baffling scene before him.
“We were banged-up pretty good,” Troy said. “We’ve been in the hospital all week.”
“I ran searches in all the databases trying to find you. I couldn’t get any hits on your DNAISs. There was no sign of you,” James said, finally releasing his squeeze on the woman.
“I had to burn them out for their protection,” Aren interjected. Clarke brought his attention to the young man. “Uh, Aren Hagar, sir.” He held out his hand.
“James Clarke. You�
��re the pilot I sent to Roma,” James said, gratefully returning the gesture.
“Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir.” Aren eagerly shook his hand.
“I assumed you were dead as well. There was a KIA file placed on you,” James said.
“My doing, sir.”
Aria watched the pilot. He certainly was good at covering his tracks.
“You have my deepest gratitude for watching out for these two. When I read your papers, I knew you’d be perfect for them.” Clarke patted Aren on the shoulder.
The President seemed slightly troubled, sweat lining his brow. He gave Aria a once-over and frowned. “And what are you wearing?” he asked in his fatherly tone.
Aria folded her arms, glaring at the man. “It’s called a sports bra.”
“Right, a bra. You’re running around in a bra, and it’s freezing out! Not to mention it’s not very tactical,” he lectured her.
Aria rolled her eyes. “With the right man, it could pose as a distraction,” she grumbled, gently tugging on her jacket sleeves.
“Troy, you let her walk around like this?” Clarke asked, looking over at the other man.
Troy shrugged, “Well, I…we….”
“Of course you do. You would let her gallivant around naked if she would,” James grumbled.
“I believe there is something more important to talk about than my attire, James,” Aria said in a seething tone. She noticed a bead of sweat drip from his forehead. “Are you alright?” she asked with a bit more concern.
“Fine, fine,” James stuttered.
“Sir, you should sit down and let Dr. Camery look at your wounds,” Grayson suggested.
“Wounds? You’re still not healed?” Aria asked.
Camery rushed to the President’s side, guiding him to sit upon an old lumpy ginger-colored sofa.
“No, he isn’t. He’s been running from place to place and not getting any rest. I brought him here a couple days ago so he could rest safely and beat the infection,” Camery explained, opening up Clarke’s shirt. “I was able to pull out a few more fragments, but the wounds had been untreated for too long. I needed more medical supplies. He left the hospital far too soon. Not to mention that little fall he took reopened all the wounds.”
“I had no other choice,” Clarke groaned. “It was either that or let that Sorcēarian and his dogs kill me.”
Camery pulled back the wrappings on James’ chest. It took some effort to remove the cloth; the blood and puss clung to the fibers. Reaching into his medical pack, the doctor quickly acquired and sprayed a disinfectant on the wound, the skin bubbling in effect. James grimaced in pain but allowed Camery to continue without much fuss.
“Speaking of Sorcēarian…” James began, “where are Dovian and Ivory?”
Aria and Troy exchanged nervous glances. “They are still in Ives.”
“Alive?” James asked, not sounding too surprised.
“Not positive, but I believe they are,” Aria said. “I’d like to go back for them at some point.”
“Not without a unit.” The President shook his head.
“And how do you suppose we go about that?” she asked. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but Feyette has the entire military out of Fountains. Walten has declared war on Cherno, Roma, and Saray. To top it off, we’re still public enemy number one, remember?”
“I’ve not forgotten that. I’ve got some friends trying to pull some strings. Once I hear from them, I’ll let you know. For now, we’ve got to work on regrouping and pull ourselves together.”
James gave a shout as Camery stapled a few of the larger wounds closed. He then smeared a transparent gel across some wide white bandages and carefully placed them over the wounds.
“Will he be alright?” Aria asked.
“I believe so if he stays here and remains under bed rest for a few days. I can’t imagine his tackle earlier helped in any way,” Camery stammered. A shaking hand brushed some graying hair out of his eyes.
“What is this place?” Troy asked, looking over the antique furniture.
Camery looked up at the man. “It is my family’s vacation home. It’s belonged to us for hundreds of years. A bit rough around the edges, but we’ve been able to maintain it. I haven’t been here in years.” The scientist buttoned James’ shirt and sat back on the sofa. “No one knows about it. It was built by one of my many greats-grandfathers. It’s a nice, quiet place to get away from the buzz of the city.”
“Walten doesn’t know of it?” Aria asked.
“No. At least, I can’t see how he would know. He’s never shown any interest in me until lately,” Camery said, his hands fidgeting on his lap.
“Why take care of James?” she pried.
“Well, because…” Camery lowered his head, “because I want to make up for some of the trouble I’ve caused. It’s not like I’m on Walten’s side.”
“No, but you did seem to equip him and Feyette’s team with some excellent gear,” Troy joined the discussion.
“I did the same for you!” Camery raised his voice. “Faze Shields, the ECRG weaponry, the upgraded armor! If it wasn’t for Walten wanting that Sorcēarian’s blood samples, you and Troy’s suits wouldn’t have been equipped with such fine medical enhancements.”
“Medical enhancements? You’re talking about the morphine in the suit?” Troy asked.
Camery scratched the bridge of his nose. “Not morphine…Sorcēarian DNA.”
“You mean you enhanced the suit with Dovian’s DNA? Is that how we survived?” Aria asked, shocked.
“I’d reckon so. Every step of the way, I wanted to counteract Walten’s movements. It was the only thing I could think of–enhancing your suits to better the chances of your survival,” Camery explained. “Sorcēarians have a fascinating technology within their weapons.”
“Speaking of….” Aria walked to the edge of the living room. There was something about the home that she didn’t like. Something felt off. “You know that frequency tuner that you provided us? Something that only a Sorcēarian would know how to use?”
“N-Now wait…I can explain that!” Camery stuttered. He seemed nervous as Aria edged toward the opposite end of the room.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Can you? Please, explain to all of us how you came across the ancient technology.” Aria looked down the hall. She noticed Camery’s gaze drifting to the same spot.
The room was quiet. Grayson stood with his hands clasped at his waist in front of the other exit to the room. Aren remained by the side entryway to the house just inside the kitchen area. Aria watched Troy as he sidestepped toward the front door; his eyes locked onto the back of Camery’s head. He firmly gripped his weapon. James stayed in his seat, looking upon Camery with interest.
“What’s down the hallway, Camery?” Aria asked.
“N-Nothing. There’s nothing. Just some bedrooms.”
“Just some bedrooms?” She turned to look with a hand on her waist. “So you wouldn’t mind if I took a look around?”
“I, I’d rather you wouldn’t,” the doctor whispered.
“You hiding something?” she asked tenaciously.
“It’s just…I have an important project I’m working on. I can’t risk contamination.” He tugged on his hands, one foot bouncing against the dirty carpet.
Aria lifted her weapon. “How about I go ahead and take a look around?”
“No!” Camery lifted from his seat but was abruptly tugged back down by James.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure I’m careful around your science project.” She walked slowly down the dark hall, switching on the mag light on the front of her weapon.
“No, please!” Camery pleaded, holding his hands before his face.
Troy rounded the couch, taking his place at the corner of the hall, watching Aria’s back. She carefully twisted the knob to one closed room, looking over her shoulder to see Dr. Camery’s reaction. He looked as if he were about to have a nervous breakdown. Frowning, she shov
ed the door open, aiming her weapon inside. There was a small candle on the countertop next to the sink beside the toilet and ancient bathtub. Aria slipped out, moving further down the hall.
“You can’t,” Camery whispered, tears welling in his eyes.
“Watch him, Troy,” Aria said with a stern inflection.
Carefully making her way to the second door, she pushed it open in a similar fashion. Another set of candles revealed an old bed with ornate pillows and blankets. Aria looked closely, shining her light on the closet and a small suitcase on the floor. Taking an uneasy breath, she moved back out into the hall.
“Just stop!” Camery rose from the couch, hurrying toward the hall.
Grayson was the first to the doctor, grabbing his arm. Camery shouted and flung his body in a crazed fashion. He certainly fit the mad scientist stereotype, his outgrown hair messing in front of his unshaven face. Aria moved to the end of the hall where long flowing curtains swayed in the howling wind from the open window. The scent of dead flowers wafted toward her from an old bouquet in a blue vase that sat upon a small wooden table. She gazed at the flowers, looking at the open expanse to her right. The dining room was full of elaborate china cabinets and a chandelier. The room connected back with the entryway that became the kitchen Aren had occupied. Her sight returned to the left where the last room of the house was still unchecked, and her eyes dropped to the eerie blue-green glow pulsing from beneath the crack in the door.
Aria looked at Troy, signaling for him to be on alert. Camery’s shouts were becoming more frantic as Aria grabbed the metal doorknob. Locked. Frowning, she glanced at the small tabletop with the blue vase once again. There was a tiny drawer. Aria tugged the drawer open and eyed the small decorative key sitting inside. Grabbing the item, she shoved it into the doorknob, twisting it with a loud click. The knob squeaked as she turned it. As she gave it a sharp push, the door gave a haunting moan. Aria halted. She aimed her weapon, her eyes wide as a strange light consumed her body.