Unborn

by Daniel Gage

  He handed her the key to his apartment, and she gave his arm a squeeze as they parted ways.

  **********

  As he walked to the hover station, his hands buried in his pockets, Cam couldn’t help but wonder about Bambi’s flirting. Was it just part of her job? Or was she really interested in him? It was dangerous to think about, as the woman had sex with men for a living. But she was nice enough, and they were about the same age, so maybe she was just after something stable.

  He shook his head. He had to worry about his job, and now his mom, before he wondered about the motives of women.

  Cam noticed that both foot and street traffic were practically nonexistent. He checked the time and realized he was over thirty minutes early from his usual time he left for work. He never thought about it before, but it was surprising to see how much of a difference thirty minutes made.

  Another difference thirty minutes made at this hour was the time it was between trains. The digital signs read that he had to wait a good fifteen minutes to get a train going in the direction he wanted, as well as the station being void of other human life.

  Cam found a bench in the middle of the station and sat down, enjoying the quiet. With his mom staying with him, time to himself would become increasingly rare. And while before last night he would have dreaded being alone with his thoughts, he took this opportunity to let his mind relax.

  So when he was no longer alone in the station, Cam immediately took notice.

  Five men dressed in matching red and gold made their way down the stairs, stomping their feet and tapping the rails to announce their arrival. They wore colors Cam didn’t recognize as any particular street gang, but that didn’t mean much. He didn’t make it a point to keep track of the city gangs anymore.

  It didn’t matter. Cam kept to himself, so he figured they would leave him alone.

  He was wrong.

  Hushed whispers were exchanged as the quintet approached Cam, and before they formed a semi-circle around Cam’s spot on the bench, he knew he was in trouble. He tried to play it cool and didn’t react, but already, his defensive instincts were kicking in.

  Two of the men were clearly packing, and it was a safe assumption the others at least had knives hidden under their loose clothing. The fifth gave Cam some serious concern, however. He was a large man wearing a sleeveless shirt, exposing his massive, unnatural arms.

  Cam was certain artificial skin was covering cybernetic arms, which made him believe he was ex-military. Only plastic versions were available to the general public, and they were much more fragile and hardly intimidating. The only reason Cam knew that was because an old friend of his was also ex-military, and had lost his leg in combat.

  “This is our turf,” the one in the center said, making sure the gun in his waistband was obvious.

  “Sorry,” Cam said. “Just need to catch a train. I’ll be gone soon.”

  Any other day Cam would have mouthed off, insulting the punk’s manhood or something equally offensive. But his mom needed him to stay healthy and out of prison, so he chewed back his pride.

  “Sorry?” the punk asked. “Sorry? Oh, he said he’s sorry, guys. Guess we should let this go.”

  The five shared in a deep belly laugh, meant more to mock Cam than show any amusement in their leader’s joke.

  “Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” Cam said, standing up. “I’ll just go.”

  But as Cam shifted his weight to stand, the leader lunged forward, drawing his gun and shoving it in Cam’s face.

  “No,” the punk said. “You’re going to pay for this. With your life.”

  Cam didn’t need more of an invitation than that.

  As Cam shot to his feet, he struck, slapping the gun hand away from his face. A shot fired wide, and Cam rammed his shoulder into his would-be killer’s abdomen, driving him back. The momentum drove the gunman off the platform onto the hover track, the fall of several feet ending with a crack of bone.

  Landing in a crouch after his attack, Cam quickly stood and spun on the balls of his feet, to face the other four attackers.

  Sending the man off the platform didn’t have the desired effect Cam hoped for. It wasn’t the first time he had been jumped by more than one assailant, but usually, taking out the loudest, or the apparent leader, caused the others to back down.

  This time, it seemed to make them more determined.

  One drew a knife and jabbed, a quick strike targeted for Cam’s midsection. Cam spun, dodging the attack, and kicked low, hitting the man with the knife in the knee. He missed anything vital, but it still resulted in a grunt.

  The dodge put Cam within reach of the other man with a gun, who had drawn it and aimed it directly at Cam. Cam moved, faster than he thought it was possible for him to react, and struck the man in the gut with a solid kick. The air was forcefully expelled from the gunman’s lungs, causing him to stagger back.

  Cam turned and ran away from the gunman.

  But the fourth attacker kicked at Cam’s legs as he ran by, tripping him and sending him to the ground, skidding a good five feet along the concrete.

  The ex-soldier laughed as Cam struggled to get to his feet.

  “He’s not so tough, is he?” the ex-soldier said, who still hadn’t joined the fray.

  It took Cam a second to resume his run, but he knew that second had cost him his life. He ran a few steps to the safety of the corridor ahead, only to hear the second gunman return to his feet.

  Cam looked back over his shoulder and saw the man take aim.

  At such close range, he was convinced he was done for. If he didn’t die right away, it would be shortly after.

  But what happened next was the last thing he could have possibly imagined.

  Before the man even pulled the trigger, Cam could see the trajectory the bullets would take from the gun’s muzzle. It even accounted for the man’s grip to favor his right side, even though Cam knew next to nothing about guns or shooting them.

  He was able to react before the shots were fired, and the three bullets flew harmlessly by Cam’s right side and into the wall.

  The sudden shift sent a wave of dizziness over him, and despite his suddenly good fortune, Cam almost lost his balance again. He pushed through the spell and ran ahead, hoping his attackers were equally as confused and dizzy.

  “What the hell? Did he just dodge bullets?” one of them said.

  As he rounded the corner, he heard steps behind him. The corridor was long and narrow, and by the time he got halfway down it, he’d be back in the crosshairs with little chance of dodging bullets, even if that time anomaly happened again.

  No, he’d have to fight if he was going to have any chance of getting out of here.

  Cam positioned himself at the corner, pressing his back against the wall, hoping at least one of them was foolish enough to charge around the bend.

  One was.

  The attacker rounded the corner at a dead run, a knife in his hand. Cam reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, using his momentum to swing him around and drive him into the wall, head first. A sickening crack and a spray of blood was the result, and the second attacker went down.

  As Cam bent down to grab the knife, he saw it had somehow managed to slice through his jacket and sweater, and leave a nice cut along the outside of his forearm. He didn’t feel the pain, but he made a mental note to be aware of it.

  The knife itself wasn’t one he expected for a street punk to carry either. It was a fixed blade, and at least eight to ten inches long. It looked more tactical, not something a thug would stash in his pocket just in case.

  But the man with the smashed-in skull’s loss was Cam’s gain. He stood back up just in time for the gunman to make his way around the corner. Cam lunged as the man fired, the shot zipping by Cam’s ear.

  The knife penetrated the punk’s chest, but just barely. The gunman fell back, but before Cam could finish him, the fourth punk was on him, attempting to skewer him with his own military-style knife.
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  The knife-wielding punk dashed forward, trying to trap Cam’s knife hand. Cam pulled back, retreating step after step, the blade narrowly missing him each time.

  His attacker was fast. Too fast for Cam to do more than defend stab after slash, let alone mount his own offensive. And behind the punk, he saw the gunman get back to his feet and aim.

  Then it happened again.

  He could see the angle of attack before the knife plunged toward his throat, an attack that certainly would have meant his life. Instead, he now had the opportunity he needed to react, grabbing his attacker’s wrist and twisting it behind his back.

  As Cam dealt with the first attacker, the gunman opened fire. The bullets flew toward him, but Cam had already pulled the knife-punk in front of him to be used as a shield. Cam felt the impact of each round, and as he prayed none of them over-penetrated, he pushed ahead, closing the distant to the gunman.

  Shot after shot was fired, each one striking Cam’s human barrier. It wasn’t until he heard a loud, echoing click that Cam threw his shield to the side and sprinted forward, catching the gunman as he ejected the spent magazine and reached for a fresh one.

  The gunman wasn’t fast enough. The full weight of Cam and his knife collided with the gunman, this time the blade burying itself between his ribs. Both men fell to the ground, but only Cam got back up.

  With four down, Cam looked around for the fifth, the large man with cybernetic arms. But he stood where he was at the beginning of the fight, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Not bad, little man,” the man Cam pegged as an ex-soldier said. “Didn’t think you’d take out all four. Maybe one, sure, longer odds on two. But four? Impressive.”

  “Who are you?” Cam said, his breathing strained. He started to become aware of the cut along his forearm, along with a few other previously unregistered injuries. He didn’t risk checking them. All he could do was pray none were life-threatening.

  “The man who’s going to end you,” the ex-soldier growled.

  Cam knelt down as the man started toward him, grabbing the empty gun and magazine the gunman had dropped. He slammed the magazine into the pistol and aimed.

  And just like before, he could see the angles, the path his shots would take before he fired them. With confidence that his aim was true, Cam fired.

  His attacker seemed to anticipate his move and brought his arms in front of his torso and chest, the bullets ricocheting off his metallic arms. Cam got three shots off before the man was on him, swinging once at blinding speed to strike the gun from Cam’s grasp.

  Cam’s hands went numb as the gun flew off the platform. Stunned, he couldn’t react as the ex-soldier’s cybernetic grip grabbed his neck and lifted him off the ground.

  “Nice try,” the ex-soldier said as he held Cam off the ground. “But you’re not the first who couldn’t take me down.”

  As the vice-like grip tightened around his throat and started cutting off his supply of air, Cam kicked at the man in futility, his numb hands attempting to pry his attacker’s steel fingers from his neck.

  “Come on, you have to do better than … that ...?” the cybernetic man said as his face twisted into confusion.

  Cam pulled with all his might, and with strength he didn’t know he had, he started to pull back his attacker’s viselike grip from his windpipe. Gears and other mechanical pieces grinded and protested.

  Precious air filled Cam’s lungs as he fell to his feet, his vision again focusing.

  But it was too late. The attacker reached back with his free arm and punched Cam square in the chest, the force of modern engineering aided by solid titanium colliding into him.

  The impact sent Cam flying back several feet into a column, the tile cracking from the force. He fell to the ground, motionless.

  “Not bad,” the ex-soldier said, standing up straight and appraising Cam’s still body. “You put up a good fight. Too bad I had to kill you by shattering your chest and pulverizing your internal organs. No one survives a punch from me. It’s just the way it is. And since you took out my friends, well, it just means more for me.”

  The ex-soldier emitted a rumbling belly laugh as he turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks when he heard something move behind him.

  “How the fuck are you getting back up?” the ex-soldier asked, his voice dripping with disbelief and astonishment.

  Cam had slowly pushed himself to his feet, one hand clutching his chest. He looked up toward the ex-soldier, a half grin on his face.

  “I think you cracked a rib,” Cam groaned.

  Cam realized he should have stayed down and let the man leave, but something deep inside him pushed him to keep going. He thought it may have been pride, or maybe he just didn’t want to let this man go after thinking he took Cam out with one shot.

  And it didn’t help not knowing why his ribcage wasn’t shattered by the impact. It hurt worse than anything he’d been through, even with how he drove and wrecked cars.

  “Fuck this,” the ex-soldier said. “I’m turning you into ground meat.”

  The ex-soldier charged, his fist aimed at Cam’s head. Even without his new skill, he could see the strike coming, and at the last moment, Cam ducked, and the ex-soldier’s fist collided with the column, sending tile and concrete flying.

  Cam stepped into his attacker, catching him with a swift uppercut to his jaw. The ex-soldier staggered back a step, but quickly recovered and threw another large punch. Time slowed briefly, allowing Cam the opportunity to swing under it. He countered with two swift jabs to the ex-soldier’s ribs.

  The ex-soldier grunted but showed no signs that the strikes affected him, and he gave no ground. He swung again, but this time, Cam grabbed his arm and attempted to throw him over his shoulder. But Cam lacked leverage, and the ex-soldier flung his arm to the side. After his grip was lost, Cam was thrown free, and crashed against another pillar.

  The ex-soldier charged, and Cam slid to a crouch just in time for the ex-soldier’s shoulder to slam into the pillar, causing the structure to crack. Cam shouted and kicked out with his heel, catching the ex-soldier in the kneecap, knocking the leg out from under him.

  He grunted and fell. Cam lunged and took him down the rest of the way.

  A series of punches to the ex-soldier’s head would have stunned anyone else, but he just seemed to get pissed off. He grabbed Cam’s collar with one hand and threw Cam off of him.

  Cam rolled as he hit the ground, traveling a few feet before he could right his balance. The ex-soldier recovered and stood, only to lower himself in preparation to charge.

  Cam let him come. When the ex-soldier threw him, it put him next to the gunman Cam had buried a knife in, and as the ex-soldier charged, Cam ripped the blade from the corpse.

  When he was close enough, Cam dashed under the ex-soldier’s charge. As the man moved over him, Cam thrust the knife upwards, into the ex-soldier’s abdomen. The tip pierced through the shirt and into soft flesh. It sank several inches as the ex-soldier’s momentum carried him over Cam, causing the blade to eviscerate his lower torso.

  Blood poured out instantly, and as time resumed its normal speed, Cam was splattered by the ex-soldier’s entrails, and the knife was ripped from his hands. The ex-soldier’s legs tripped over Cam, and the he sprawled into a heap several feet later.

  Cam pushed himself slowly to his feet, his injuries starting to be felt. He watched as the ex-soldier twitched and coughed, red liquid rapidly pouring out of him.

  “Not … bad …” the ex-soldier said. “Didn’t think … you’d be … so tough … Your friends weren’t …”

  The ex-soldier then went still, but Cam watched him for several more seconds before taking his eyes from his attacker.

  He slowly surveyed his surroundings and saw all five of his assailants motionless on the ground, including the one on the hover track. Pain started to register, his injuries starting to ache more than he accepted as just damage done to his body.

  What did the ex-sold
ier mean, that his friends weren’t? What friends was he referring to? Did something happen with Lloyd last night? Cam had been expecting a text, or something, when the job was completed, since he was now in Lloyd’s debt.

  And as to what happened during the fight, why Cam could see the path of a bullet, react to the fast-paced attacks from his assailants, he had no clue. All he knew was that nothing was going to be the same, that within the span of a few days, his life had changed in ways he couldn’t imagine.

  Cam took two steps before he fell, his legs giving out on him.

  The last thing he remembered before he slipped from consciousness was the sound of several pairs of boots charging down the stairs to the platform, and someone yelling that the police had arrived.

  CHAPTER 7

  The sun had begun to set as Emma pulled up to the construction site. She had arrived in Boston earlier that day, but tracking this Unborn rumor had been more time-consuming than she had anticipated.

  She tried his home address first, but she only found a woman caring for her mom in a wheelchair. She was standoffish, didn’t even give her name, and as soon as Emma flashed her credentials, the door was slammed in her face.

  Then she checked the bar he had been in when his birthmark was spotted. The bartender said he hadn’t seen him before, but said he recognized the men he was with, and that they seemed like they all worked together.

  This tidbit led her to this construction site, the second to last of her leads. And she doubted she’d find him at his parole officer’s.

  She climbed out of her car as the shift whistle blew. Almost as if on cue, several construction workers flooded out of the entrance. Emma turned her walk into a trot as she called to the nearest worker.

  “Excuse me!” she called, waving her hand as she approached. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Cameron Briggs. Do you know where I can find him?”

  The large man shook his head. “He didn’t show up today. Ask Henry; he’s in the trailer.”