Second Activation (The Activation Series Book 2)

by Darren Wearmouth

  “The rules have changed again,” Jack said. “We take no risks.”

  Morgan scowled at me. “I’ll give you five seconds to take your hand off my shirt.”

  “Cast your mind back a few hours,” I said. “You know the consequence of not working as a team.”

  “What do you know about teamwork?”

  Morgan ripped himself away from my grip and strode purposefully toward the staircase. He stopped five yards short and looked down his sights.

  Footsteps descended. The man in shorts appeared, carrying a small hacksaw. He seemed in a trance, unaware of our presence.

  “Freeze! Put your hands up,” Morgan said.

  The man stopped and looked at Morgan as if he’d just told him he’d slaughtered all of his family.

  “Hands up or I’ll shoot. You’ve got five seconds.”

  “Bloody hell,” Jack said and raised his rifle. “What’s he got us into?”

  The man shuffled toward Morgan. “Do you hear the voices?”

  “Voices? What voices?”

  The man lunged forward and grabbed the muzzle of Morgan’s rifle. They spun as the man fought to gain control of the weapon.

  A shot split the air.

  The man staggered back. His back thumped against the magnolia-painted wall. He clutched the center of his chest. Blood ran through his fingers and dripped to the gray vinyl floor.

  Morgan swung his rifle butt into the side of the man’s head. The man collapsed and groaned, revealing a red patch on the wall behind him. His right leg kicked spasmodically before his body relaxed.

  “You’re such a tit!” Jack yelled at Morgan. “Every man and his dog will be coming here now.”

  “Really?” he said with a smug look of triumph. “Didn’t you hear other gunshots on our way here? If you’re not prepared to act, I will.”

  “You could have just let him go down the stairs,” I said.

  “I’m going to find out what he was doing.”

  Morgan turned and headed for the staircase. Jack raised his eyebrows and immediately followed. As soon as we locked ourselves in Bernie’s apartment, I needed a serious word with this annoying liability.

  On the next level, Morgan made for an open apartment door. He stood to the side of it with his back against the wall and spun to face the entrance with his rifle stretched in front him, a textbook clichéd move. I assumed his clearance training came from the TV. He cupped his nose with his left hand and entered.

  “Jesus Christ,” I heard him say.

  The filthy living area buzzed with flies. Severed heads lined an eight-row bookcase in lines of five. A stack of seven more leaned against it, like a grisly totem pole. Various bloodstained implements lay around: a bread knife, bolt cutters, and a coil of metal wire. In the kitchen area, three blackened heads hung like ugly lanterns from each rotor blade of the ceiling fan.

  Jack covered his mouth and immediately walked out.

  “Do you still think we should have kept him alive?” Morgan said.

  I shook my head and left the apartment, finding it impossible to comprehend the reason for such a grotesque collection. We’d witnessed some random and strange behavior, but this was the most calculated and horrific yet. I remembered the headless corpses in Elyria. The first activation had really screwed some people’s minds. If this was the real GA plan, its leaders were even more twisted than I’d thought.

  “Back to Bernie’s,” Jack said.

  “Yep, I’ve lost my appetite for surveillance,” I said.

  At this point, after everything that had happened today, I reckoned we could all do with being in a safe place to take a mental break and plan for our future.

  We descended to Bernie’s old apartment. I took the key out of my pocket and opened the door. The familiar place looked welcoming in our frazzled state. I stepped inside and my foot slipped on a piece of paper. It hadn’t been here when we’d left last Monday. I leaned down and picked it up. Morgan bumped me from behind.

  “Are we going in?” he asked.

  “There’s a note,” I said. “Delivered after we headed to Monroe.”

  I took the paper to the couch, sat down, and squinted at the untidy handwriting.

  Jack secured the door and rushed over. “What does it say?”

  “Same time, same place. My heart will go on.”

  “That’s the song you played in the parking lot, wasn’t it? Celine Dion?” Jack asked.

  My pulse quickened. This could be the kind of boost we needed. “It’s Lea. She must have put it here in the last two days. There’s no other explanation.”

  Morgan tore the note from my hand. “Who’s Lea?”

  “Do you think she means the Queensboro Bridge at eleven a.m.?” Jack asked.

  We’d arranged on Twitter to meet Lea a week ago at the Queensboro Bridge. She hadn’t shown because of the presence of a killer, but later fell into our trap at the parking lot. Jack’s theory made sense. Lea might have inside information for us if she’d managed to meet up with Martina.

  “We should go tomorrow morning, hide somewhere and stake it out,” I said.

  “It’s worth the risk. She might be able to help us—”

  “I need to be involved in this,” Morgan said, his voice rising over Jack’s. “Who is she, and how did she know you would be here?”

  “We came here before escaping the first time,” Jack said. “She went missing in Monroe.”

  I smiled at the thought of her being here and trying to contact us, but wondered exactly what she’d done to stay alive.

  At eight in the evening, Jack lit three of the half-melted candles on the table, providing us with gloomy light. He sat on the couch opposite Morgan. I checked the cupboards, remembering we’d left a few cans behind. After preparing three bowls of cold baked beans, I sat with the others.

  Jack and Morgan immediately spooned beans into their mouths.

  “She wanted to make her own way and try to find her partner,” I said.

  “I’d have thought the chances of that were pretty slim,” Morgan said with his mouth still full of chewed beans. Once a corporate ass, always a corporate ass. Being a corporate ass doesn’t instantly grant you good table manners, though. He could still be an officious buffoon and chew with a half-filled mouth.

  “Not when you consider that they both worked for Genesis Alliance, and the partner was the niece of the head guy up there.”

  He clanked his spoon in the bowl and placed it on the table. “You were with someone from Genesis Alliance?”

  “She wasn’t really one of them,” Jack said. “She had a job as an admin assistant or something, sorting out shipping and payments.”

  “You know they want to find you. They’ll be using her as bait.”

  “She’s not like that,” I said. “Lea’s pretty smart and doesn’t take any shit. She went back because of her partner, Martina. She won’t go along with GA.”

  “Suit yourselves, but don’t expect me to come.”

  “Fine by me—you can stay here,” Jack said. He threw his bowl in the sink and headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me when it’s my watch.”

  Jack had probably turned in early to avoid a growing temptation to use Morgan’s face as a punching bag.

  I spent the evening cleaning my rifle, checking the magazines, and thinking about the morning plan. Morgan fidgeted for an hour before reading Moby Dick, which he’d found next to the telephone. He kept peering over the book at me, humming to himself and clicking his tongue.

  “Are you going to sleep?” he eventually asked.

  “I will when Jack gets up. We like to keep watch.”

  He drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch and sucked his teeth.

  I swear he was trying to piss me off on purpose by invading the silence with his incessant noises.r />
  “Will you stop that?” I asked.

  He smiled at me and put down the book. “Sorry. Can you give me any more info on Genesis Alliance?”

  “Not much more than what we’ve already told you. They’re on Hart Island and are obviously still operating. Their Headquarters is coming after the locals messed up. Don’t know what they have planned, but we need to try and beat them to the control unit.”

  “You’re not going to beat them by sitting in here cleaning weapons.”

  I put down a working part and glared at him. “If we find Lea, she might be able to help. We’ll work something out tomorrow. I’ve got no intention of sitting around.”

  “You said they have a tech team and that Headquarters is in the UK, right?”

  “So what?”

  “Sounds like they’re organized.”

  I shrugged and continued to clean my rifle. It felt like he was being flippant with me.

  He continued to read and glanced over the book every few minutes. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something or offer his advice on what to do, but I thought it prudent to ignore him. The mere presence of him got on my nerves, and he had a funny way of making a room feel small.

  My temper bubbled to the snapping point over the next three hours as he continued to fidget and make noises. Thankfully, Jack poked his head out of the bedroom. “Harry, want to get your head down? Get yourself four hours before we head off.”

  I sighed with relief. “Cheers. I’ve cleaned your rifle—twice.”

  He gave me a knowing smile, and I headed for the bedroom.

  I didn’t need a second invitation to get out of the living area, but I expected him to send Jack into a rage. I tossed and turned for a few hours, gaining restless sleep, mixed with thoughts about the dead children on the boat, Lisa, Chip, Harris, and Rick. We’d lost a lot of good people over the last day, but Lea’s note had given me hope.

  The apartment door slammed shut. I scrambled up and headed into the living area.

  Jack sat on the couch reading a book. “He’s gone.”

  “Morgan? Gone where?”

  “He was being an annoying bastard all night. I kept telling him to shut up. He said he couldn’t take it anymore and left.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “Said he was getting a boat or something. To be honest, I’m glad he’s gone.”

  I had mixed feelings about Morgan leaving. I realized that if he’d stayed with us, it wouldn’t have taken long for an explosive situation to happen. But we were a man down, and that was something we couldn’t really afford at the moment.

  Morning sunshine seeped through the metal blinds near the top of the wall. We finished off two cans of beef stew from the cupboard and washed ourselves in the sink. Bernie and Linda’s twentieth anniversary porcelain carriage clock chimed from its shelf. Nine o’clock on Monday morning.

  Our understanding of the killers had changed since our last excursion to Queensboro Bridge. People suffering aftereffects were less predictable, but still highly dangerous. Above everything, the shadow of Genesis Alliance loomed, and could grow even larger today if their ship docked at Boston.

  We decided against taking a car. Things were quiet around us, and we didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention. We hugged a concrete railway bridge that ran along the center of the Queens Boulevard, staying away from the stores that lined either side of the road. Only the ones containing food had been looted. In the distance, Manhattan stretched into the sky. The faraway noises that had punctuated the silence yesterday evening had died down. I only heard two distant gunshots as we approached the Queensboro Bridge.

  We arrived with an hour to spare. I found a car with black tinted windows, pulled out its two inhabitants, and observed the area around us from the front seat. A large flock of birds flew across the broken Manhattan skyline, through tunnels of smoke rising from the ruined buildings. Lack of maintenance and violent acts must have triggered the fires.

  A city dying in front of my eyes, along with its inhabitants.

  9

  For the next hour, the only sign of life was a couple of dogs. The first skulked over the bridge, stopped to lick the face of a corpse, then ran as if startled by something. The other trotted around in the distance for a few minutes before disappearing down a side street. At least the twisted minds of Genesis Alliance hadn’t made animals part of their program.

  “Would’ve helped if she put a date on that note,” Jack said.

  “I’ve been thinking about it. We left Lea in Monroe and pretty much came straight here.”

  “We could always come back tomorrow if she doesn’t show.”

  Something moved in the rearview mirror. I slipped between the front seats and scanned the area.

  “Problem?” Jack asked.

  “Dunno. Might be.”

  Moments later, a woman darted from behind one car to another, moving in our direction.

  “Problem,” I said. “And she’s coming this way.”

  “She seen us?”

  She crouched by the side of an SUV, paused, and advanced to the cover of a red and white ambulance with FDNY plastered on the side. Nobody would ever forget the bravery of New York’s firemen after the previous terrorist attack on this great city.

  The woman reached a position within twenty yards, but she wasn’t concentrating on our vehicle. She pressed herself against the side of cars and kept advancing, clasping a carving knife in her right hand. We aimed our rifles and tracked her movement. She glanced around and continued along the bridge, stalking her prey.

  Before the activation, I’d disliked tinted windows and thought they were used by show-offs and wannabe gangsters. Today, they helped us avoid a dangerous confrontation.

  “How many do you think are still about?” Jack said.

  “Not many. The second activation’ll probably flush out most of the survivors.”

  A single gunshot rang out. The woman’s head snapped back, and she dropped to the ground. A woman stood in front of her, dressed in black with her hair in a tight black ponytail and her gun extended forward. Lea.

  Jack went to pull open the door.

  I grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. Let’s make sure she’s on her own first. Look at her clothes.”

  Lea advanced to within thirty yards and looked around before ducking into an abandoned gold Lexus. We waited for ten minutes but saw no other signs of movement.

  “It’s eleven,” Jack said. “Let’s go.”

  I slipped out, crept to the Lexus, and gently tapped on the back window.

  She sprang out and pointed her pistol at me in one movement before lowering it to her side. I resisted the urge to hug her but couldn’t hold back my smile.

  “Put the rifle down, Jack,” she said over my shoulder.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before any interested parties turn up to check out the source of your shot.”

  She returned my smile. “No ‘Hello, how are you?’ ”

  “That woman you shot walked right past us,” Jack said. “Might be others around here.”

  “Okay, I know a place. We’ve got lots to talk about and very little time.”

  “We could always go back to Bernie’s apartment,” I said. “Like the good old days.”

  She smiled again, although this time it looked false. “They know about that place. It was compromised just before I left this morning.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “What? How?”

  “We can talk while we walk. Come on.”

  This was the Lea I loved. Abrupt and to the point. She headed across Queens Boulevard. Jack and I flanked her and covered each side.

  “How did you know we’d go back there?” I asked. “And why has it been compromised?”

  “I didn’t know. I posted the note yesterday and planned on com
ing here for the next few days. You said you were headed back to New York, and I thought you might return to Bernie’s apartment. Where else do you know to go around here?”

  “That was a bit of a long shot,” Jack said. “Although it’s our nearest thing to home, I suppose.”

  “You’re more predictable than you think, Jack.”

  He frowned, but I knew what she meant. I would have done the same thing in her shoes.

  “What’s with the black gear?” I said. “You back with Genesis Alliance?”

  “It’s complicated. I have my life thanks to Martina. I had to make compromises.” She quickened her pace and headed for a side street. “GA have boots on the ground here, and we need to be careful.”

  “We know about their boots on the ground, boats in the water, and planes in the air,” Jack said, anger rising in his voice. “Why has Bernie’s apartment been compromised?”

  “Early this morning, just before I set off, Morgan arrived on Hart Island in a small boat. He told the guard he wanted to talk to the boss and was taken to see Anthony.”

  “That bastard. I knew it,” Jack said.

  The revelation didn’t surprise me either. Morgan probably thought he could persuade his way in with the dominant force and worm his way to the top. I should have suspected after his questions a few hours ago.

  “Anthony’s the boss?” I said. “I thought he broke away to track us down?”

  “Anthony runs most of it through radio comms. He’s got a real hard-on for you—”

  “Hold on; back up a minute,” Jack said. “What exactly did Morgan tell him?”

  “He didn’t have time to say much.”

  “Why?”

  “Morgan told Anthony that you two were in an apartment in Elmhurst and gave Bernie’s address. He said that he’d lead them back and make sure you were in when they arrived.”

  “That sneaky bastard! What else did he say?” Jack asked.

  “Nothing else. Anthony called him a treacherous piece of shit, dragged him to the shore by his ear, and blew out his brains. They dumped him in the sea.”

  “Anthony got that one right,” I said.