Metal Deep: Infinite - Metal Wing: Episode 5

by GX Knight

  “That’s the Cake World truck.” She looked confused.

  “Okay?”

  “But that’s who I ordered your cake from.”

  “Maybe they have another delivery?” I said.

  “Could be?”

  We watched as the pink mini-truck pulled into the vacant spot left by the black van. A rail-thin lady with short, curly blond hair, and wearing a pink Cake World uniform hopped out staring at her clipboard. Between gum smacks she managed to form some kind of coherent wording, “I’m looking for the Wyld residence. You folks know which one that is?”

  “That’s mine.” Star said, still totally bewildered.

  Jeena, as her name badge said, kept smacking and talking, “Look, the cancellation for your cake order came too late. We already had it made. I hate to be Little Miss Sour Frosting, but we still have to proceed with the order. That’s the thing with these custom specials. We just can’t get anyone else to buy them.”

  “I didn’t cancel the order.” Star said.

  “You sure did,” Jeena popped her gum. “Got the message this morning.”

  Star got that annoyed look again. Thankfully it wasn’t aimed at me, “But you already delivered it.”

  “No ma’am, Sugar Britches. I’ve got your order right here,” Another pop of the gum.

  “If that’s your cake…” Star said to me.

  I picked up here sentence, “…Then what was just delivered?”

  We both turned to look at the building just as the wave of an explosion knocked us, and Jeena the cake lady, to the ground. I rolled over to shield them from the burning debris that fell on top of us.

  DARKNESS FELL

  Dead… My God they were all dead.

  I can remember ringing in my ears. The smell of sulfurous smoke and the vomit-inducing odor of burning flesh filling the air like a net you couldn’t get out of. I can somewhat recall stumbling around and seeing blood, lots of it. My dazed senses barely functioned as they were assaulted by yells, screams, sirens, and heat… more heat than I had ever felt in my entire life.

  When I awoke in a hospital I tried to replay the horrific scene over in my mind, but the images were all mashed up into swirls of incognizance. The only thing I could actively recall was the smell, and as I laid in the hospital bed, I wretched into a large plastic bucket the nurses had left for me. The scent of my own vomit was the only thing that was potent enough to push the other awful odor of my burnt, dead teammates away. The nurse tried to take my bucket to clean it. I threatened to kill her if she tried.

  The longer I laid there, the more images blinked through my mind like a blurry slideshow. Unfortunately, none of it cropped up in the corresponding order. To add to my frustration, every question I asked was deflected. Every time I started to wake up I was given something to make me sleep. The only things I was sure of was that I had been in some kind of bombing, and that most of my friends were dead.

  I learned to quit asking questions because they wouldn’t answered, so I sat and watched as the nurses and doctors moved around me during treatment. I felt as if they were afraid of me, but more than that, they all seemed sad. I’ve spent my fair share of time in hospitals with sprained parts and broken pieces. The obnoxious fake optimism the staff always feeds you when you’re writhing in pain was absent. These nurses were somber, sedate, and silent.

  I could only take so much. I had no idea where I was exactly, or how long I had been there. It was time for me to go. Before they could give me more sedatives, I yanked out the monitoring wires, both of my I.V. lines, and I walked past a gaggle of protesting nurses. They were all too afraid to discuss what happened, and I wasn’t willing to wait until the head-shrink could walk me down a recovery road of daisies and donuts. I had to have answers, and nobody was offering any. I had a choice: I could wait there, or I could leave. I chose to leave.

  One poor security guard tried to stop me, but I had been a natural when it came to my personal combat training. In fact it had become so ingrained, combat was all I seemed to be sure of at the time. The middle-aged pudgy man fell to the ground holding his windpipe. I left him there gasping. He just had to be still. He’d be fine in a few minutes.

  The air was cold, and there was nobody out on the street outside of Mt. Haven Hospital. That was one question answered. Ice pricked at my toes, and wind cut through my hospital scrubs, but the cold dulled upon the realization that the entire city had been put on lock down for the evening. I remembered my reading for military protocols in case of a terror attack. There would be a curfew enforced. There were still so many questions to answer. I had to keep moving and just take in the new facts a piece at a time. I didn’t want to stop, because when I did, I felt more pain from the bandaged burns on my left arm and upper chest. The movement seemed to help. I just wished the movement had kept the stitches that ran down my face, just beside my right eye, from itching as well. That was worse than the sharp ache of my burns.

  A couple of blocks passed quickly enough for barefoot burn patient. It was odd to see a city that never shutdown feel like a ghost town. Every cold step was taken with apprehension. I passed alleys and doors expecting someone to jump out at me. Even the thieves were in hiding. Just how bad had things gotten?

  Two patrol units approached from a side road I had already passed. They moved at a slow deliberate crawl. I ducked out of sight inside a closed newspaper kiosk as their search lights crept across every inch of every building. I wasn’t sure if they were looking for me, or just looking. Either choice had me nervous. While waiting for them to pass, I took the liberty of helping myself to that day’s paper. I also found some old copies of the previous editions inside a recycle bin.

  I had been in the hospital for almost a month. The bombings had happened in more than a dozen locations, and all of them had been at the homes of prominent government and military leadership. I breathed a relieved sigh as I read an old article that reported General Wyld’s daughter was alive despite unnamed serious injuries. In response, the general had been appointed to lead a newly waged war against the Calvarians, who had been blamed for the attack.

  There was no telling where Wyld would have Star stashed away. I had to find her, and I had to unleash a reckoning on those bastard Calvarians. Star first though. Going to any of the Wyld “safe” houses would be useless since they obviously weren’t that safe. My private home was too far away. The bomb sites had no doubt been combed-over meticulously by now, so that wasn’t going to help me find the Calvarian responsible. I needed to get back to base, but it was too far to walk. I would need transportation, but with no I.D. and a curfew on, the only place I’d get taken is the clink. I poked my head from the kiosk, saw the two patrol units down at the end of the street, and came up with a very naughty plan for catching a ride.

  TAXI

  I broke out into a run down the middle of the street toward the rear police unit. My feet slapped against the pavement and I felt every stinging footfall shoot needles of pain up my leg. I was sore, but I was determined. I had played Laser Ball while injured plenty of times. This was no different.

  They were too busy looking where their light shined to notice me behind them. I consider this to be a flaw, and I would take advantage of it. I was confident, but I had to hurry. The first patrol unit, a car, turned left at the T-intersection. The utility vehicle I was chasing was preparing to turn right, but a darting cat caught their attention. This caused the pause I needed. I pushed my body harder than I should. My side ached, my bandages were painfully twisting around my burns, and my stupid face still felt like I had a thousand crawling bugs nesting inside it. Despite that, I made it to the objective, and with a quiet leap just before the vehicle started moving, I managed to precariously find footing on the rear bumper. It took some of my crazy balance training to get on there without shaking the vehicle, and even more to keep from falling off.

  I crouched just under the window. I hazarded enough of a glimpse to see there was only the one officer. He was so intently focused
on his search light, I knew that he was going to be the baby, and I was going to make his ride the candy I steal.

  After we turned down another avenue, I held on to the bumper, and with my good arm, I hit the back fender as hard as I could. I pulled my arm back just in time to be missed by the light that darted toward the back of the vehicle. He slowed, but not enough. The light lingered on the corner for a just for a moment, and then it went back to scanning the streets. I couldn’t help but to laugh at this guy. He was looking so hard, but he was missing what happening right under his nose. I thumped the fender again and got the same response. He paused, looked, and then went back to his scanning. I gave him another two storefronts before I finally just yelled, “Hey!” If that wasn’t going to get him out, nothing was.

  Sure enough, the door swung open and I heard a very eager set of boots hit the ground. Feeling lighter than snow, I slid off the back, still crouching, and backed toward the passenger side of the vehicle. The guy was looking all around, but when he found nothing he went for the sidewalk. After he put a few more paces between us, I reached up, lifted the handle, and as quietly as I could, cracked the passenger door open. I was going to just borrow his ride. He could have it back when I was done.

  Little did I expect the small heavy boot that caught me right on the left cheek. I fell to the cold ground and groaned in concert the rippling waves of hurt that rolled from the epicenter of my face.

  A small female guard who had been crouching down in the seat, so that I couldn’t see her from the back window, stood over me. She had a weapon in one hand and an infrared scanner in the other.

  She made no attempt to hide her prideful smile. “Did you really think you could hide from us?”

  DEAD MAN

  “What is your name?” The male guard asked me after they had me handcuffed and placed in the back of their utility vehicle. We were driving to the nearest police station, but at a slow cruising speed. Their attention was half on me and half on the buildings along the rest of their route.

  “What’s yours?” I responded.

  “We’re not playing.” The guard explained, “Do you have any idea how long people are going to jail for the breach in curfew? They make the sentences in decades, not years. Cooperation would behoove you. Everyone is considered potential terrorists at this point.”

  “I just woke up,” I said. I didn’t like the curfew thing, but to hear of how the system was being abused. Sending violators away for decades? I knew the general liked his control, but that seemed a bit ridiculous. “I’ve been out of it for a while, but it sounds like you’ve got yourself a nice little empire here. So much for a free and democratic society.”

  The female officer with the iron boot chimed in, “Nobody likes it, but would you rather have more bombers out there on the street?”

  “No, I love them,” I said sarcastically. “How do you think I got so banged up?”

  “Me, kicking your face?” The female goaded.

  “Try an exploding cake.”

  The guy guard seemed like a genuine fellow, “I’m sorry, but we still are required to process you.”

  “Who are you?” The girl asked, “Why have I felt like I’ve seen you somewhere before?”

  There were times when being famous was handy. “Rayce Rycard,” I said flatly. “Of the Boom.”

  “Yeah, and I’m Queen of Indreni,” she mocked. She looked a little angry, “And I don’t think that’s very funny.”

  I laughed a dark laugh that brought the smell of dead friends back. My stomach churned, and I did everything I could not to expel my last horrific experience of hospital meat all over their back seat. “I don’t think it’s funny either. I’m the one who lost my friends and ended up unconscious in a hospital.”

  We screeched to a stop. The lady looked confused as the other guard jumped out, opened my door, and ordered me to get out. I had just started warming up when the sudden chill skittered across my skin like a giant stabbing spider. I did what the guy said, and the girl joined him as my back was placed against the vehicle. The both pulled their flashlights, shined them right in my eyes, and just stared at me for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

  “I saw every game this past season,” the guy said to his partner like I wasn’t even there, “I think it’s him.”

  “No way, he’s taller.”

  “I’m telling you it is.”

  “But he was reported to have died along with the rest of the team.”

  “Well that wouldn’t be the first lie we’ve been given from the administration since this whole mess started.”

  “You have a point there.”

  “What should we do with him?” He asked.

  “I don’t know.” The girl looked concerned. “Remember when Patrol Five got transferred and then disappeared the next day when Admin found out they were documenting inconsistencies over the reasoning for the extreme measures being taken?”

  “If we know that he’s alive…”

  I decided to finish this conversation about me that I had yet to be invited to join, “…Then they’ll likely have you reassigned to protect the information.” I decided to overplay things a little and bend the rules of my classified job, “I am part of the military, you know. Would you like to know you’re interfering with highly sensitive workings? That could be bad for you both.”

  They exchanged knowing glances and then immediately took me out of my cuffs. Not that any of that wasn’t true. If I had been declared dead it was for a reason. I didn’t want to damage whatever plan General Wyld was cooking with that particular piece of misinformation. At least I don’t think I do. I am not of fan of how he’s running the show. My only hope is that when I get back to base I can get some solid intel on what’s happening.

  They looked terrified, and I was finding it somewhat amusing. Not since the playoffs two years ago when we demolished the Wild Cards had I seen such looks of futility. I smiled at them and climbed back in the back seat. “Come on,” I said. “I like you, so give me a ride to where I need to go, and then we can all forget we saw each other.”

  They jumped in the vehicle and tore off in the direction I told them to drive as if their lives depended on it. I was going to enjoy being dead.

  POWER PLAY

  I told the guards to drop me off at field on the perimeter of the base. It was a well-known “sneak in” spot for troops who needed to get back to base late without checking in. Chances were good that it was monitored, but so long as it wasn’t overly abused, the powers-that-be were happy to allow the flexibility for those few in-the-know. That was the rumor anyway. Considering you had to traverse the base’s dumping ground, I’m sure they got a laugh knowing people had to sift and navigate through a sea of garbage.

  The base had been extra quiet. I could only assume everybody had been deployed for Wyld’s big crackdown on freedom. Getting some wheels from the motor pool was easy enough. Before long I was zooming down the “abandoned” road that led to Spec-Ops. I spent the drive wondering how I was going to get past that fence and guard, fortunately the question was answered when I found General Wyld, arms folded, standing in front of the gate like he had been expecting me.

  The old general looked tired and angry. Not angry at me, just mad at the world. It was a feeling we shared, and each knew it. I left my stolen motor pool acquisition there and followed him in after he nodded for me to join him.

  Before I left on leave, I had spent a huge chunk of my time in classrooms, when not honing my fighting skills. I had not seen any piece of the new experimental equipment they were planning on issuing me. To say that I was still untested was an understatement. General Wyld didn’t seem to care anymore as he rushed me past the training halls and took me back into the “Clockworks.” It was the inner workings of Spec-Ops. I was not supposed to be allowed to go into the Clockworks until I passed an array of proficiency exams. Apparently those had been canceled, because I stood deep in the heart of it all. I found myself trying to keep my extremely sore jaw fro
m dropping as we silently moved into the bustle of countless laboratories and testing ranges. This was where the deadliest weapons on the planet were being created.

  We stopped at the end of a hall and entered a pitch black room. The General said nothing until the door was closed and small light burned a dull blue up in the corner. “You’re dead,” he said as soon as the door was sealed. “Your hand selected hospital staff was cleared to know this. Those two patrol officers that brought you here were not.”

  Five thousand questions gridlocked at my mouth. I had no idea where to even start. The more immediate concern was for the two cops who knew the government secret. “They’ve already agreed to keep quiet.” I was learning what happened to people who came across government items of business that were not meant to be known. It never ended well for them.

  “For their sake, I hope they do,” Wyld said. “Regardless, it’s good to see you on your feet. I’m surprised you were spry enough to get back to base with minimal fuss. I’m feeling more confident concerning your selection.”