by Bob Mayer
“You’re a bitch,” Scout said. “Lara.”
“So be it.”
The Mission Phase V
ZERO DAY; ZERO YEAR
19:35
“Calm down, lad,” Angus said, “and tell me what’s ailing you so greatly?”
Ivar looked at Edith in confusion. “Who is this?”
“He’s a new teammate,” Edith said.
Ivar pointed at the screen. “The countdown. Legion uploaded an Israeli computer virus that will cause—“ he paused, trying to figure out what exactly to say to explain such a complicated scenario—“our civilization to crash.”
“Is that bad?” Angus asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “What’s the timer?”
“The computer virus is uploading to the ninth floor of the Western Union building,” Ivar said.
“Can you do anything?” Edith asked. “Stop it from here? Execute some sort of command?”
Ivar was already typing, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. “I doubt it. The software is encrypted and the program was developed by Unit 8200. They’re the best. We’re screwed. The virus is already in the system.”
“You’re talking software, right laddie?” Angus asked.
“Yes.”
“But software needs hardware, din’ it? ”
“Yes, but—“
“Easy, lad,” Angus said. “Ninth floor of what building?”
Ivar pointed at one of the monitors. “The old Western Union Building.”
“You mean right outside?”
“Yes.”
“Ninth floor?” Angus asked as he began opening lockers inside the van.
“Yes. What are you doing?” Ivar asked.
“If this is an Israeli vehicle,” Angus said, pulling boxes off the shelves that lined the side opposite the consoles, “then it’s rigged.”
“’Rigged’?” Edith said.
“For destruct,” Angus said. “Them fellows never do anything halfway.” He dropped the floor and ripped aside a piece of the thick, sound-proofing carpet. “Ah, here we be.” He hooked a finger through a metal ring and lifted a metal floorboard a tiny bit. Then he ran a finger along the lip of the floorboard. “Could be booby-trapped.”
“What?” Edith was trying to keep up.
“Seems clean,” Angus said.
“’Seems’?” Edith repeated.
Angus pulled the floorboard up and tossed it to the side, revealing several bricks of explosive connected with wires.
“A pretty boom this will make,” Angus said. He frowned. “It’s always the blue wire, methinks. Or is it the red?”
“Do you know—“ Edith began, but Angus beat her to the punch by ripping all the wires out and holding up a fuse.
He pulled a shiv out of his waistband and slashed through the wire. He handed the wires and fuse to Edith, who instinctively took them. “We’ll be needing that.”
Then he scooped out the explosives, dumping them into a box. “You want to take this?” he asked Ivar. “Or do you want to get us in the building? I expect there might be a fellow or two trying to stop that?”
Ivar took the box.
“Edith, my dear,” Angus said. “do you have a timer on your phone-thing?”
“Yes.”
“Sync it with that timer, would you please? ”
Angus kicked open the back door of the van and ran for 60 Hudson Street. Ivar and Edith hurried to follow.
It is Now. Zero Day in Zero Year. How we got to be here via the computer timeline?
2010: iPad.
2010: The “Iranian Cyber Army” disrupts the Chinese search engine Baidu.
2010: The US introduces Stuxnet to attack the Iranian nuclear program.
2011: Canada’s government and National Defense face a major cyber attack.
2011: It’s discovered that a worldwide cyber attack, dubbed ‘Red October’ has been operating since 2007, gathering data from embassies, military, energy, nuclear and other critical infrastructure systems.
2012: Facebook passes 1 billion users.
2015: Apple Watch.
2016: The United States Presidential Election.
“Anyone inside is innocent,” Edith began.
“There are no innocents in this world, lass, except a new-born babe.” Angus pulled open the door and hit the security guard who confronted them with an uppercut that lifted the poor man off his feet. He dropped to the floor unconscious.
“Stairs or elevator?” Angus mussed as he jogged through the lobby. He stopped at the elevator. “What floor was that now?”
As Ivar began to answer, he laughed. “Joking, lad, joking. I’m not that old.”
Angus punched 9.
The elevator began to go up. Slowly.
Angus began humming The Girl From Ipanema .
“Seriously?” Ivar muttered.
“Second most recorded song in history,” Angus said. “After Yesterday by some Brits.”
“Really?” Edith asked.
“I’d never lie to you, pretty lady,” Angus said. “Except if I have to,” he added as the doors slid open and a security guard aimed a gun.
“Hold it right there!” the young man yelled.
“Sorry, not today,” Angus said. He reached into the box Ivar held with both arms and extracted a block of explosive. “You shoot this, the entire place goes boom.”
The guard’s eyes widened .
“I suggest you be getting away,” Angus said, stepping to the side and indicating the elevator. The guard hustled on board, his finger jabbing the close button.
“The younger generation,” Angus groused as he surveyed the floor. “Ignorant.”
Rows and rows of servers, as far as they could see, fading into dimness.
“Where are the maintenance people?” he asked Ivar.
“On call.”
“Time, Edith?” Angus asked.
She checked her phone. “Ten minutes, twenty seconds.”
Ivar nodded down toward the box he was holding. “Will this be enough?”
“Has to be, so will be,” Angus murmured but he was walking forward, looking left and right, and up and down. He turned back to Edith, holding the wires and fuse, and Ivar, with the box of explosives. “Best you both put those down and leave me to the task. The elevator should be available.”
“Angus, we have to help you,” Edith said.
“Let me borrow your phone, if you might?”
Edith handed it to him. He glanced at the time.
10:00.
Angus reached out and cradled her face in both callused hands. “You already have helped, and it made an old man’s heart beat quicker that such a pretty thing as you spent time with me, especially after where I’ve been, but both of you get out now ,” he ordered as he took the fuse and wires out of her hands.
He pushed both of them toward the elevator, shoving them on board.
When the doors swished shut, Angus turned to face all the servers. He put the fuse inside the box, picked it up, then began softly singing the Colonel Bogey March , which most would recognize done by whistle from The Bridge on the River Kwai .
Angus knew the words and as he got to work, he sang them:
“Hitler
“Has only got one ball!
“Goering
“Has two but they are small.
“Himmle r
“Has something sim'lar
“But poor old Goebbels
“Has no balls
“At all.”
Angus glanced at the phone.
8:00
7:59
“This is right fine mess,” Angus muttered.
Zululand, Africa, 31 October 1828 A.D.
Eagle staggered to his feet. He distantly noted that Shaka and Jager had taken down another Grendel and were on to a third. An efficient human killing machine. Perhaps they could turn the tide.
But it would be too late.
A bolt of lightning hit the ridgeline to the left with a thundero
us clap and the sound of rock splintering. It was as if the planet itself were rebelling against this unnatural assault on the timeline.
A Zulu warrior had managed to break through the line of Grendels and Aglaeca and went straight for the newborn Grendel.
He died, stunned at the speed with which the newborn beast ducked under his iklwa and gutted him. They were not going to be babes for the taking.
And when there were more?
A second Grendel crawled out of the reeds.
The rain was washing a river of blood into the mud. Lightning helped the growing dawn illuminate the surreal battle.
Over two-thirds of the Zulu army was dead. Half the defending Grendels had been taken down. Both Aglaeca were still battling.
Eagle gathered himself. He sprinted toward Jager and Shaka who were taking on another Grendel.
Just before Eagle got to them, Shaka slipped in bloody mud and the Grendel slammed a hand, claws extended, into the Zulu King’s abdomen. The tips of the claws came out Shaka’s back as the Grendel lifted him into the air.
Jager used the moment to shove his spear into the base of the monster’s skull. It collapsed to its knees, with Shaka still in its grasp. The Zulu King struck with his iklwa into its mouth, driving with all his might, using the claws in his body as leverage, the tip of the blade going into the brain.
The Grendel collapsed forward, onto Shaka Zulu, killing the King.
“Give me your spear,” Eagle yelled to Jager, striving to be heard above the screams and thunder.
“What?” Jager was momentarily confused, pulling his spear out of the corpse.
Eagle tossed his Naga iklwa to Jager, who automatically caught it with his free hand.
“Give me the spear!” Eagle ordered.
Jager tested the balance of the iklwa and tossed his spear to Eagle. Jager turned and charged the next Grendel.
Eagle jumped over the body of the Grendel lying on top of Shaka Zulu and raced toward the water hole. A third ‘baby’ Grendel was crawling out of the water. Eagle dodged it, splashing into the water until he was waist deep. He felt something slither past his legs, but ignored it.
He knelt, the water to his chin. He held the spear up, the base of the iron blade in the water, the tip toward the sky. “Please!” he whispered.
A face poked out of the water, peering at him. A ‘baby’ Grendel. It’s mouth opened, reveling teeth already big enough to rip Eagle’s throat out.
That’s when the bolt of lightning hit the tip of the spear, soared through it, and Eagle, and into the water.
Salem Massachusetts, 31 October 1692 A.D.
“What do you say we try some trivia?” Lara suggested. “Or rock, paper, scissors?”
Legion laughed. “You’re going to die.” He spun the knife in his hand, faster than Lara could track. “Slowly and painfully.”
“Show-off,” Lara said.
“You are a bad man,” Unity said, in a surprisingly clear voice. She whispered something in Buddy’s ear and the Yeti stomped forward toward the chimera .
“Might want to—“ Lara began but fell silent.
Both she and Legion watched as the two beasts, Unity clinging on for her life, battled.
Chimera struck the first blow, feinting with snakehead while the scorpion tail embedded itself in Buddy’s right thigh.
That appeared a Pyrrhic victory as Buddy reached down and seized the tail with both hands. Buddy roared as he ripped the tail apart.
Chimera hissed and backed up several steps, the stub of its tail waving about wildly.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Lara said.
Buddy charged. The snakehead struck forward, but Buddy was faster, grabbing it. In not the safest way possible, one hand disappearing into the chimera’s wide open mouth, the other grabbing the neck.
Chimera bit down, fangs sinking deep into Buddy’s forearm. Which was exactly what Buddy wanted as it twisted its massive arm while keeping a tight grip on the neck.
The sound of the monster’s neck breaking was very clear.
Chimera dropped like a stone. After a few seconds, the carcass crumbled inward, leaving no trace.
Buddy dropped to his knees with a thud, poison from both scorpion and snake coursing through his system.
“No!” Unity yelled. She let go of his fur and slid off. She scurried around to the front of the Yeti. She put both hands on its chest. “Stay with me.”
Buddy whined, leaning his head forward, brushing against the top of Unity’s head.
Lara felt her chest seize, feeling Unity’s pain. She gasped for breath as Buddy crumbled to black dust and was gone, Unity’s hands coming together, touching nothing between.
Unity went to her knees, running her fingers through the recently fallen leaves. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Lara looked at Legion. “Let’s finish it.”
Everything went black for a second, and then Lara wasn’t in the forest any more.
I’m in the kitchen. The one I don’t want to be in.
A man stands there. Joey. Blood dripping from a blade in his hand. The blood trail leads through that door. The one I can’t go through .
But I am not alone. I know it through everything that is me, every cell of my being. That is more than me.
Nada’s voice is so clear. How the frak do I know it’s Nada? Never met the dude.
‘Here there be a monster’
I focus on the monster.
Joey.
Legion.
The face of the Shadow.
Joey looks about and shakes his head. “ Nice trick. No wonder they were killing you witches there. But you can die here just as easily.”
“ I don’t think so. I’m not alone.”
“ You said that before. Then you ran away. Are you Lara? Or Lily? Who are you?” He smiles, but it’s one of those smiles, you know, nothing nice at all about it. He lifts the blade. “ You want some pie?”
Funny guy he isn’t.
“ I didn’t kill my family.”
Joey shrugs. “ So?”
“ I’m not sure I come from a family.” Where did that originate?
Joey frowns. “ Let me end your miserable existence.”
“ I kind of like my miserable existence.” I walk toward him. It’s surprisingly easy after all the struggles I’ve had in this room.
Joey takes two steps back in surprise, then assumes a fighting stance. I stop, trying to remember some of the things they taught me. As if that’s going to help me take this guy?
But then his eyes widen, darting to my right. He takes another step back, toward the door.
There’s someone else here. Really here. On my right—Scout. Not quite real but not unreal either. Yeah, I know that don’t make sense, but something flickers in his eyes. He can see her too. So maybe actually here?
And he’s scared.
“ You can run,” I tell him, trying to sound magnanimous. Where the frak did that word come from?
“ We don’t retreat.”
“ You already have,” I says to him. The problem I got is whether Scout is real or just an image? If she’s real, I think we can take this jerk together. But if she’s not real?
“Scout?”
“ Yes?” That’s a voice. A real one. I think. But given my past, I’ve heard a lot of voices I thought were real.
“ You really there?”
“ Yep.”
Joes takes another step back, but he’s got nowhere else to go, unless he retreats through that door.
Which he does.
“ Let’s get him,” Scout says just as I knew that was she was gonna say.
“ I don’t—“ I begin but Scout doesn’t let me.
“ ’In every generation there is a chosen one... she alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the slayer’."
“ I’m not Buffy,” I mutter, but I know it doesn’t matter now. “ Come on.”
I stride forward, Buffy style, and shove the door op
en.
It’s not the living room. There’s no murdered family.
It’s a Gate and before I can stop, even as I try to stop, I’m in it and through.
I panic. Did she follow?
But Scout is there. My ‘Scooby’ gang.
Joey is fifteen feet away, facing us, daggers ready, looking none-too-happy.
We’re in a building, dark interior. Warehouse. Something big dimly lit with tall, narrow windows on the side, full of crap. It’s cold, very cold.
There are containers in neat rows all about. Not containers. Black pods. Rows and rows; except for two nearby, which are separate from the rest and red, not black.
“ Uh, Lara?”
“ Yeah, Scout?” I’m trying to figure out how the two of us can take Joey, because the way he’s standing, he ain’t backing up any more. He has that stance, that crazy look in his eye, the look I used to see on the Fourth Floor of the loony bin. From the worst of the loons, the ones who chop you up and—
“ Lara?”
I glance at Scout, keeping tabs on Joey out the corner of my eye. “What?”
“ Soylent Green is people.” Scout indicates the closest red pods. They’re made of glass or thick plastic but the surface is covered with frost. But, yeah. People, person, shaped thing inside.
There’s movement in the distance behind Joey. I look over my shoulder. The Gate is still there. I look forward. A cluster of guys dressed in black coming up behind Joey, knives in hand.
More Legion to reinforce—I blink, not quite believing what I’m seeing .
Some of them don’t have their faces covered and they’re all Joey.
I hear a squeaking noise. Scout is rubbing the frost off the glass of one of the red pods.
The Legions are with Joey now. A dozen Joeys. Frak me.
Enough is enough. “We gotta go, Scout.”
“You need to see this.”
I take a couple of steps toward her. She’s cleared away a six-inch circle. A girl is inside.
It’s me.
New Delhi, 31 October 1984 A.D.
“You will all die if you let her do this!” Neeley cried out.
All activity in the room paused for a moment, then went on as before.
Indira Gandhi walked over, shaking her head. “I truly would like to know who you are. Where you come from. I think that would be an intriguing story. But you are nothing. Nobody. I was giving you the gift of dawn and history, but you have rejected that.”