“I named her Thirsty,” the woman said. “Because that’s what it took to have her. Drinking hardly any water. What they put in it keeps a woman sterile. Controls the population. Unless you want to apply for a child; then you get some chemical that balances out what’s in the water. But once you apply for a child, you lose freedom. So I went thirsty until she came along. Then my husband died, and I ran out of choices. Please don’t hurt my little girl.”
Mason wasn’t against the begging that came with terror. He waited to see if she’d say anything else.
“What do you want?” she whispered. “Anything you want that I can give, it’s yours.”
Mason felt something warm on his fingers. For a couple of moments, he wondered if he’d pressed the knife too hard against Thirsty’s thin little throat. He glanced down, expecting blood. Instead, he saw tears that had streamed down the girl’s face, down her chin and onto his fingers.
“Anything?” Mason said.
“Anything.”
He smiled. “I came in here to cut your eyes. Make you blind the way you wanted me to be blind. But I’ve changed my mind.”
“Not her,” the woman said. “Whatever it is, put it on me.”
“I didn’t change my mind about leaving you blind,” Mason said. “Just how it’ll get done. You want this girl alive bad enough, then all you need to do is cut your eyes instead of me doing it. Then I’ll go.”
“What?”
Mason truly was enjoying this. “Remember when I asked what it was like? You’re the one who told me that you live blind or you die. So that’s your choice. Live blind. Or die. Along with your girl.”
SIXTY
Thursday morning
Pierce was having coffee at the pool in a hotel robe and a swimsuit he’d picked up in the souvenir shop for triple what it would cost anywhere else.
Early, but already hot. The brief weather front that had passed through was obviously not going to circle back.
Carson Pierce had had about three hours sleep but wanted a private place for the conversation he was waiting for. He figured it was going to be a long day. An hour in the sun was an investment in relaxation to keep his batteries charged.
Waiting for Holly he was thinking about the genetic makeup of the male species.
Other side of the pool was a blonde in a matching hotel robe, leaving enough of it open to show a bikini beneath. Just that phrase, blonde in a bikini, should have been offensive. She was a woman, another human being, with thoughts and feelings, but male genetics compelled him to reduce her to categorized object. He could blame his chromosomes for that rather than take personal responsibility.
She was maybe five years younger than he was and had just looked over at him. A second time. He was thinking he should walk over and ask her name. Otherwise it was dehumanizing just to think of her as a blonde. See, he told himself, a male person could and should fight the Y chromosome.
The importance of that fight was underscored when Holly walked into the pool area, dark pants and shirt, dark sunglasses. Fortunate, Pierce thought, that she’s not here to swim. Easier to keep it professional when a willowy and sassy brunette isn’t in a hotel robe.
“Morning,” Pierce said when Holly sat in the chair beside him. It gave her the same view of that blonde on the other side of the pool. “Coffee?”
“Sorry to interrupt your daydreaming. Surprised you’re not wearing mirrored sunglasses. Most guys do when they want to check out poolside babes.”
“Babe is a dehumanizing term,” Pierce said. “Besides, the point of not wearing dark sunglasses is that it lets you make eye contact. Shows confidence. Shows you’re not like other guys. And it’s part of my long-term goal of reducing said dehumanization. Making the world a better place.”
“Don’t let me cramp your style.”
“Hang around. It’s actually helpful. A babe like her sees a single guy by himself at the pool, she starts wondering what’s wrong with him. A drop-dead gorgeous woman like you shows up, and now she begins to speculate at all I have going for me. Especially with you dressed like you are. Makes you an accessory.”
“Accessory?”
“I’m in a robe. I’m the power guy here. Can’t hang out in a robe otherwise. So now she’s wondering if you work for me or are just coming by to say good-bye before you do something reasonably glamorous out there while I’m entitled to remain languid across the pool. Either way, in her eyes, I’m a winner.”
“Languid?”
“Languid.”
“This fantasy life ever work out for you?”
“Ask me again if you make the next pay grade. You can access a different level of intel at that point.”
“Not if,” Holly said. “When. You might want to remember it was 4 a.m. when you knocked on my door and wanted fingerprints off the badge you put in my hand.”
“Not to be dehumanizing, but you looked okay for that time of morning.”
“Well, not so much anymore. I’m not wearing these sunglasses to check you out. These bags under my eyes are part of the reason my next pay grade isn’t an ‘if’”
“Was doing you a favor,” Pierce said. “Knew you’d appreciate all the extra time I was giving you to get answers by now. Besides, you had full authorization to put Jeremy to work too.”
“I want all the glory to myself.”
“And?”
“I learned something about you. Only two sets of prints on your badge. Yours and hers. Was wondering if there’d be other women to find.”
“Discipline. I only have time for work.”
“The prints not yours belong to Jessica Charmaine. Forty-nine years old. Scientist, cleared for level-four military work.”
“Good work.”
“You might want to note 4 a.m. is when you handed me the badge.”
“You’re trying to make a point about not waking you up in the future.”
“Which you’ll ignore.”
“What kind of science?” Pierce asked, thinking of the blood vials and syringes in the woman’s purse.
“Genetic.”
“You’ve got her file?”
“Posted on the op-site. Your eyes only.”
“Let me try a long shot here,” Pierce said. If Charmaine was forty-nine, she would have been late twenties when Jordan Brown pulled the plug by destroying everything and leaving for Appalachia. “Before the Wars, she was part of the Genesis lab.”
“Yup. How’d you know?”
“Tut, tut,” Pierce said. This knowledge finally gave him a good indication why Caitlyn had come to DC. “Wrong pay grade. Not going to share.”
“Suddenly, old isn’t that attractive to me anymore. What I said yesterday? Forget it.”
“That’s fine. Makes room for the blonde across the pool. What did you learn about Swain?”
“Same thing. Former genetics scientist. Genesis lab.”
“You’re getting closer to the next pay grade,” Pierce said.
“Blonde in a bikini couldn’t come close to what I’m capable of.”
Pierce was glad his cell phone buzzed. He held up a hand of apology to Holly and answered. “Pierce.”
“Tell me again why I keep doing you favors.” Wilson’s voice.
“I’ve saved your life three times.” Pierce said from his lounge chair.
Wilson had not confirmed whether Pierce’s cell was crypt protected from electronic eavesdropping. Nor did Pierce ask Wilson. It was a given since both were in flagrant violation of agency policy. Given the subject, Wilson’s call to Pierce was definitely beyond authorization.
“Want to tell me why you asked for this favor?” Wilson asked. “You’re trying to pull something together, and it can’t be good.”
“How much deniability do you want to lose here?” Pierce had asked to make an unauthorized location check of private vehicles to find the one that fit the specific time and location of the car that had pulled up to Swain’s house the night before.
“Granted. But I don’t
like what I found.”
“Spill.”
“How high in the World United can you go?”
World United. The replacement for United Nations.
“You’re talking the top?” Pierce asked. “Like the very top?”
“Richard Dawkins. We both know his military background.”
“Yeah.” Pierce was quiet for a few seconds, giving it some thought. Then, “Run a cross-check and see if there’s any connection to Swain. Anytime. Anywhere.”
“Pierce.”
“Sorry. Please run a cross-check and—”
“No. I did it already. And what I got there is even worse. It’s the Genesis Project. He was on the committee that oversaw the budget and operations. You should walk away from this. Now. If that was Dawkins and he was visiting Swain, he’s going to know it was you inside when he passed by. Someone like him has a lot of juice. Like, unlimited.”
Pierce didn’t answer. The blonde in the bikini had just given him a third glance. More than a glance. A long look. Which was bold considering Holly was right beside him. It was more than bold. It was an open invitation. Did Pierce really want to leave the sun for a journey into the swamp of agency politics? Maybe he’d be better off poolside for the rest of the day. Or month.
“Pierce? You there?”
“I’m here,” Pierce said.
“You hear me?”
“Yeah,” Pierce said. “Thanks for your help.”
He snapped the phone shut.
“You should have worn mirrored sunglasses,” Holly said pertly. “She’s acting like I’m not even here.”
Pierce smiled back at the blonde, knowing that Holly was watching.
SIXTY-ONE
I’ve had time to think about this,” Caitlyn told Razor. “There’s more you should know. About the escape from Appalachia.”
Breakfast had been more bread. More cheese. More unfiltered water.
She had folded herself into a corner of the room so that the walls hid the hunch of her back. She sat with her knees up, arms across her legs.
“A week before, others made it outside. Friends who had helped me make it to the border. I was supposed to meet them at a safe house.”
“Stop,” Razor said. “Safe house?”
“There’s a network inside Appalachia. Working with the network here. Like a church, but without rules of religion. They help newcomers, get them work permits, find them a place to stay once they escape the official church of Appalachia. We were sent to Lynchburg.”
“They still there?”
“When I made it over the wall, a guy named Johnny brought me to Lynchburg. I was supposed to go to a place the next morning where a network person was waiting for me. But Billy and Theo found me first and—”
“Your friends.”
Caitlyn nodded. “Billy and Theo said the government had been asking questions.”
“NI.”
“NI. I decided to get out as fast as possible. Billy and Theo and I agreed to meet after I had my surgery, when we wouldn’t have to worry about my wings giving me away. But to do that, I needed to come here to DC. They said they’d go too, even if it meant living in a soovie park. We went at different times. Our go-between was the network woman who secretly helped us. I got her a message that I was working at the Pavilion. They got her a message that she passed on to me. Every two days, at noon, they would wait for me outside the city wall at the farthest east checkpoint.”
“You’re telling me this because that’s in a couple of hours, right?”
“Yesterday, I was trying to escape so I could meet them today. Billy and Theo. But your people turned me around.”
“Too dangerous,” Razor said. “Word is out. You’re worth a lot of money. You start moving around, it’s going to get someone’s attention. No way can you go out there and look for them.”
“I know,” she said. “But you seem to be able to go anywhere you want.”
SIXTY-TWO
Mason was in a bad mood as he followed Billy and Theo. Not just because of the sunshine that he was learning to hate.
They’d chosen not to return to the Meltdown, but were traveling down the paths as if on a mission. That should have put him in a good mood. Especially because Theo didn’t have his glasses and was stumbling so badly that Billy needed to guide him. That made both easier prey.
But something was wrong with Mason, and he was disgusted with his own weakness.
The night before, just as the whore had begun to press a knife against one closed eye with a trembling hand, Mason had ordered her to stop. He was still trying to figure out why he’d walked away from the woman and the girl, leaving both of them physically unhurt, clinging to each other and weeping with relief.
He was in a bad mood because, once again, he was indulging in introspection. And in a bad mood because he’d actually shown mercy to someone. Introspection was weakness. Mercy was weakness. The weak did not survive.
Had he shown this mercy because he’d been so affected that someone could love enough not only to face the terror of a lifetime of blindness, but also to cut her own eyeballs as a sacrifice of love?
Or was Mason so utterly terrified of the dark that he couldn’t handle inflicting blindness even on someone else?
Either way, he didn’t like the internal shift that seemed to be happening. Weak. Weak. Weak. Maybe his time of hell in the black of the cave and the near-death experience had not been good for him at all.
As he gnawed at those thoughts, he was maybe fifty yards behind Billy and Theo, blending in easily among the strays and scavengers that infested this seemingly endless shantytown.
Mason wasn’t worried about them noticing him, let alone recognizing him, so that gave him plenty of time to be alone with his loop of thoughts. Hunters didn’t think, he told himself. Hunters didn’t feel. Hunters hunted.
He tested himself by speculating about what he’d do to Caitlyn once he found her. No amount of begging for mercy would impact his actions there. He savored the emotions that came with his speculations and satisfied himself that he was still a hunter.
It cheered him slightly.
But not near as much as discovering, a few minutes later, near a checkpoint at the city wall, that Billy and Theo had left the Meltdown to meet with someone.
Following all three, no matter how long it took to find the perfect moment to strike, was going to be simple. Enjoyable. And rewarding.
SIXTY-THREE
Near the checkpoint, outside the city wall, Razor had no trouble identifying the two Caitlyn had described.
He sidled up behind them. The big one was really big. Twice as wide as Razor. A head taller.
The little one stood in front of Billy, in a protective stance. Neither bore face tattoos but were poorly dressed and did not have bodyguards, so they were obviously not Influentials. Or even Invisibles. The little one had huge bruises around his eyes.
The clear and correct assumption, then, was that they were Illegals, and this made them targets for vendors who would never dare to draw the attention of Influentials.
“No,” Theo said in squeaky, high voice, shifting to stay between each new proposition and Billy. “Not interested. Not interested. Not interested.”
Razor stepped to their side.
“How about a woman?” Razor said. He was enjoying this, messing with them as he tried to get a sense of who they were.
Billy ignored Razor, turning his head in different directions. Easy to guess he was looking around for Caitlyn.
Theo, however, frowned and squinted at Razor with full attention.
“Let me guess,” Theo said. “A woman who is pure and very athletic.”
“I suspect both,” Razor said.
“And what does that mean?” Theo was blinking hard. “Just once I’d like someone to explain exactly why that should be of interest, instead of laughing when I ask.”
His innocent seriousness was so intent that Razor understood why the question would be greeted with laughter.<
br />
Billy still ignored Razor. Among the people streaming past them, he was like a large boulder, impervious to water.
“No one ever offers me a woman,” Theo said. “Always him. I’d like to know why.”
“If you don’t understand, you won’t understand.”
“Then the answer is no. He is not interested. No matter how pure and athletic. He is waiting for someone and nobody else.”
“Would her name be Caitlyn?” Razor asked.
Razor had been focused on Theo, enjoying the boy’s naiveté. His peripheral vision caught movement, but before Razor could react, his world shifted. He was off his feet, shoulders firmly in Billy’s grasp, facing Billy directly, face to face.
“Where is she?” Billy said. No anger. But no mildness either.
“Put me down,” Razor said.
“Where is she?” Billy repeated.
Razor knew he could end the confrontation with a few reassuring words, but he’d survived as long as he had by never appearing weak. He’d answer Billy’s question, but only after dealing with Billy.
Billy’s legs were together, his groin protected, so Razor brought his knee up hard, into Billy’s stomach.
The big man barely grunted.
Theo, however, reacted by grabbing both of Razor’s legs.
Razor tried to kick him free. He noticed that he didn’t waver in Billy’s grasp, even with his struggle with Theo.
“Where is she?” Billy repeated.
“Tell the terrier to let go, and you put me down,” Razor said.
“Where is she?” Billy repeated. “I don’t like hurting people.”
“We’ll talk when I’m on the ground.”
Billy began squeezing Razor’s shoulders. It felt like his fingers had penetrated through layers of muscle to the bone.
“This is stupid,” Razor said, his eyes inches away from Billy’s direct stare. “All it would take is a head butt to break your nose.”
Billy pushed him away, moving Razor out to arm’s length. Although the additional strain to do this must have been tremendous, Billy held Razor totally motionless. And still those fingers dug deeper and deeper.
Flight of Shadows: A Novel Page 21