Hostile Territory

by Tom Andry

  My ears thumped with muted sound. Gale's power? Had the gun discharge been that loud? Or maybe just the emotions of the moment. It didn't matter.

  Gale's head rolled toward me, her eyes glassy. I begged her not to die. I stroked her hair. She was gone. No last words. No last kiss. No meaningful looks. Nothing.

  "See, Bob. Don't you feel better now that I've added some more pain to your life? Calmer? More focused?"

  "She was pregnant," my voice shook. I felt my cheeks and was surprised to find them dry.

  "I know," Siddeon sounded bored. "I was her doctor."

  I continued to stare at Gale. I pushed her eyes closed. It worked. I'd always seen that on TV and thought it was some TV thing. But it worked. I slid her head off my lap and gently set it down on the ground. I put my hands down to push myself up.

  Something metal touched the back of my head, "Slowly, Bob."

  It wasn't Siddeon, but I knew the voice. "You son of a bitch."

  My former assistant smiled cattily over the barrel of the gun, now in his hand, "Daughter, actually. I'm a girl. Leon...Noel...I can be either or both...or at least I could."

  I took a calming breath, glancing over at Siddeon, "I'm going to be cliché for a moment. I hope you don't mind."

  He smiled as if nothing had happened, "Understandable."

  "I'm going to make you pay for that." The threat sounded as impotent as I felt, but I had to say something. For once, I knew why supers spouted such nonsense. It was better than the alternative, which in my case, was crumpling to the ground in a fetal position.

  I just wanted to escape. To hide. How had this happened? I had everything under control. I was with Mind. She should have been able to stop this. What was going on?

  Siddeon motioned me to sit. I glanced over. One of Gale's arms was draped over the leg of the chair. I couldn't keep my eyes on her. My legs started to shake, my fists clenched. I felt like both running and collapsing. I had to turn away from her.

  She couldn't be dead. It was impossible.

  A giggle escaped. Oh, God, I even sounded like her. Like them. Supers. Impossible. What did that mean? I started laughing. I couldn't help it. The tension, the stress, the horror - it flooded out of me in a fit of inappropriate laughter. Leon...Noel kept glancing back at Siddeon, confused and nervous. Where Siddeon had held the gun with perfect calm, the gun in Noel's hand shook violently. When he...she...turned to Siddeon, I sprang.

  Too close. Amateurs always hold guns too close. I slammed into Noel and pushed her back into the wall. The gun clattered to the ground. I pounced on it. My back exploded in pain, Noel jumping on me, her claws raking though the thin T-shirt and my skin with equal adeptness. My anger, adrenalin, and loss pushed that pain out of my mind. I fumbled with the gun, finally getting it into my hand.

  A second fiery pain on my back, this one going the opposite direction. I cried out, pushing up and backward. Noel tried to hang on, but couldn't. I heard a sound of tearing that, moments later, was followed by a tug that released with a jerk. I turned and I could feel the blood run down my back as the pain blossomed across it. My former assistant was on the ground behind my desk. She had knocked my chair back. At the sight of that chair on top of Gale, I could feel my blood boil.

  "Get off her, you..." I couldn't think of an insult so I just fired.

  Noel jumped to the side, but the beam still caught her in the shoulder. She spun backward with a feline yelp and landed on top of my desk, skidding off the side. She crawled back toward her master. The gun's barrels rotated, placing a new barrel into the firing position.

  Siddeon looked annoyed, "If you two are done?" He nodded to me, "Well, Bob, you have one shot left. I'd suggest kitty here, but it is, of course, up to you."

  My former assistant was ignoring both of us, examining her wound. The beam had taken out a long line of flesh and muscle down her left arm. It wasn't deep though. The wound had been cauterized by the beam, but was tearing open and dripping blood from the movement.

  Doe reached down and started stroking Noel's head, "She was my cat, you know. Before." He put his hands up, "I know, very James Bond, but what are you going to do? I like cats." He bent down and put his hands on Noel's shoulders, careful not to touch her wound, "Do you know why? Because any cat, any of them, if they were big enough, they'd at least try and eat you." He turned to Noel, "Right?"

  She didn't answer and, instead, started cleaning herself by licking her hand and arms.

  Doe shook his head, "It worked at first, you know. The transformation. One of our early successes. But she started to revert. Such a shame." Doe ran a hand over Noel's head slowly. "She was supposed to get me information. Tell me more about the tippy who seemed to be everywhere. But then she started having problems with the transformations and had to come back for treatments. And she never did mention your wonderful apartment. Even when she let me in after my henchmen failed, she couldn't give me full access." He leaned forward and whispered into her ear loud enough for me to hear, "You know how I feel about failure, right?" As understanding dawned on Noel, he reached forward and grabbed her chin. Pulling hard, he spun her head. A loud crack. Noel collapsed in a heap.

  Siddeon laughed, "Whoops. Looks like I made your choice for you." He stood slowly, keeping his eyes on mine.

  I don't think my expression changed. Too much had happened for me to be shocked. The man could have pulled out two huge salamis and suggested a duel to the death and I probably wouldn't have blinked an eye.

  "You are one crazy bastard."

  Siddeon nodded, "I really don't see how this changes much. I still hold your friends' lives in my hands. If I don't make my calls, they will die. And there is nothing you can do about it."

  I closed my eyes for a moment, my brain spinning. I couldn't think.

  "Bob?"

  I wanted to cry. She had been here the whole time. She had known. She had watched it happen, but she hadn't done anything. The gun shook in my hand.

  "Bob, ask him to prove it."

  I opened my eyes. Siddeon was watching me guardedly. "Something's happened. What is it?"

  "Prove it."

  "What?"

  "You say you have my friends hostage? Prove it."

  Siddeon paused, "I see your point. I haven't been one to lie or bluff, but I could be." He nodded, decision made. "Fine." He put the metal box, still in his hand, up to his mouth. He pressed a button. "Unit Five. Capture target. Call apartment when complete. No fatalities. Yet."

  An acknowledgement rang back. We stood in silence for a few moments. My mind was racing and yet empty. It was like I was overloaded. Nothing but numb static. I wondered how Nineteen would have reacted to my current mental state.

  "Clones, huh?" Siddeon asked.

  For a second, I couldn't tell if he was talking or if I was still thinking about Nineteen, "Huh?"

  "Clones. That seems to be a pressure point for you. When you said the word, I could see how vulnerable you were. How much pain that word caused you. I was so surprised I couldn't believe it at first."

  "I don't know what you are talking about."

  "Sure you do. You may have a gun, but I have all the cards. The supers are trapped in the Super City, your friends and family, and now this. I'll make you a deal: you pick, your friends and family, or a clone of whoever is making you so vulnerable. Your daughter I assume. But maybe Gale given recent events," he laughed. "The supers? That's just going to happen. But I'll give you one of the others."

  I blinked, "You just killed my ex-wife. And your own creation. If your plan comes to fruition, you'll wipe out just about every other super on the planet. And you think I still want to deal? I could turn you over, they get out, and we find your cloning equipment and I'll get what I want anyhow."

  Siddeon shook his head, sadly, "Unlikely. They've been searching for me for years. They've captured me a few times but that was by my design. But it's too bad you have to feel that way. I'd like to say that I remember a time when death meant something to me, but hones
tly, I don't think it ever did. I'm just not wired that way." He sat down in my company seat.

  The phone rang. I picked it up. It was my father. He told me that some men had him and mom at gunpoint. I told him not to worry.

  Siddeon smiled, "Your move."

  I took a breath, "Over here."

  We went through the routine for transferring ownership. I insisted on keeping Privileged Visitor status so that he couldn't turn the defenses on me right away. A ruse, but a necessary one. Finally, we flipped the "kill" switch to reset the system and it was done. I stood across from him, he behind my desk, me in front of my guest chair.

  "Very good, Bob. Tell me, which did you choose?"

  I licked my lips. Nineteen. I'd worked for months to get her back. To find the next clone in the line and keep the promise I had made to Nineteen all those months ago. I wanted to touch her more than anything. Even now, even with all this death around me, the thought of her filled me with a longing I didn't think possible. I wanted her back. I needed her back.

  "Let them go," I heard myself say, my eyes closed.

  "Hmm...I wouldn't have guessed that. I was sure you would go with the clone. Though I suppose, family does count for something." He held out his hand, "Give me the gun."

  "Fuck you," I replied, my voice flat. "Call off your henchmen."

  Siddeon thought for a moment, studying me, "No. Give me the gun first."

  I paused, thinking. Mind was whispering into my ear, but I couldn't concentrate on her voice. He was right there. Right in front of me. All I had to do was pull the trigger and he'd be gone. Dead. I'd lose Nineteen for certain, but I'd already lost so much. Wouldn't it be better? Wouldn't I be doing the world a service?

  I tried to swallow on a dry mouth. Liz. Alan. Mom and Dad. He had them all and probably more. Could I kill him and still save them? Mind might know the supers that were still around. We could call them. Could it work? Maybe. Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk for my revenge?

  Doc Arts. I'd let my need for revenge cloud my judgment before.

  I exhaled, decided. I placed the gun on the desk and pushed it to the middle. "It stays there until I leave. Now call your men."

  Siddeon stared at the gun for a long moment and then nodded, never moving from his seat. He put the metal box back up to his mouth and rattled off a long series of random words. A few moments later, I picked up the phone and called my parents. They answered and confirmed that the men had left.

  I exhaled, my eyes drawn to the gun. What to do? Mind could capture him. Hold him for the authorities. Or I could grab that gun and finish it now.

  "I can see you're considering your options. May I remind you that, if you try to kill me, if the defenses don't stop you, there is still the matter of the clones. I'm sure you could find something in the future to bargain for what you want. Or, perhaps, you want to owe me one?" He smiled wickedly.

  I lowered my head, "Computer."

  "Affirmative." Mind obviously wasn't sure what I was going to do and was still using the male voice.

  "Define Privileged Visitor clearance."

  "No such clearance exists."

  Siddeon's eyes grew wide.

  "Computer," I continued, "define clearance: Bob Moore."

  "Owner, full access."

  "But," Siddeon sputtered, "but that's impossible!"

  "Yeah, you supers like to say that. But it doesn't make it true."

  Siddeon dove for the gun, but Mind placed one of her immobility fields around it. He pulled his hand back, his mouth turning up in a snarl, "You give it back! We had a deal! You give me the access you promised or I'll kill them all!"

  I slowly reached forward, picking up the gun, "Do you want to make a new deal? One that gives me everything I want and you get to live?" I asked, my voice flat.

  "Fuck you and your deals," Siddeon mashed down on one of the buttons on his device.

  "Signal neutralized," the computer intoned.

  Siddeon screamed in protest, his face flush with anger and confusion.

  I sighed, "I thought you might feel that way."

  I pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  "I'm saving people. That's what we do." Rod's accented voice cracked at the last word. He cleared his throat, "Those were her last words. And fitting ones. Gale was everything that was good about the Bulwark. She represented the best of us. And she died doing what she loved: fighting evil. Standing up for what is right. And..."

  Rod's voice faded off. He didn't start bawling or biting his fist or anything. He just stared off into space. Lost in his grief.

  "Man, he seems really torn up," Alan whispered into my ear. I nodded. "Is he going to be okay?"

  I didn't answer. Someone put a hand on my shoulder and said something. I winced at the pain from my bandaged back. My ex-assistant had really done a number on me. I'd taken a look at it in the mirror; it wasn't pretty. A minor super at the local hospital had been able to close up all the wounds pretty well, but they still ached and would probably scar.

  I looked over my shoulder. A masked face looked back at me. I didn't recognize him.

  A television camera panned toward me. I turned away again, hanging my head. They'd been trying to get a clean picture of me for the entire service. I was doing my damnedest not to let them.

  "Can I get you anything?" Alan had asked the question something like the thirteenth time. He didn't know what to say. For once. The reporter didn't know what to say.

  I suppressed a giggle.

  "A drink?"

  "Don't you think you've had enough?"

  I turned to him, my bloodshot eyes boring into his, "No. No, I don't."

  Alan frowned, but handed me my flask, which he had confiscated. It was new. I'd lost the other one in the Super City along with my dartboard and keychain. I couldn't remember where I'd lost the flask. Probably dissolved by that acid chick. I couldn't remember.

  I took a quick hit. Then another. I was about to take a third when Alan put out his hand. I huffed, but I passed it back. He tucked it in his jacket pocket, looking around.

  Some time passed. I didn't know how much. All I could see were my shoes peeking out from my pant leg. The comfortable ones that Gale had given me in the Super City. They still looked too small.

  Alan grabbed my elbow. "Bob, it's time."

  I stood, confused. The row of people was filing out. Where were we going again? It didn't seem like we were going out. I glanced around. The stadium was full to capacity. Thousands of people. Only those on the floor, the grass would be a better descriptor, were standing. And, of those, only a select few rows were being ushered up.

  Damn it. Viewing.

  I kept my face pointed, as best as I could, away from the cameras. I hated this. Hated it. And hated the man that made it happen.

  Before I knew it, I was there. In front of her. It wasn't an open casket. But there was a viewing window. Rod had put her in her costume. I blinked away my revulsion. She could have been sleeping. I kept expecting to see fog on the window from her breathing. It never came.

  I put my hand out. Placed it on the window. My breathing became erratic. It was like someone was shaking me. I closed my eyes.

  A felt a touch at my elbow. "We should go, Bob."

  It was Alan. How long had I stopped? I turned and headed back to my seat. I thought. I was a bit confused as to where I was sitting.

  "Bob." Rod's German accent was light, but unmistakable.

  I looked down. He was sitting in an oversized chair, reinforced to take his massive bulk. He wasn't fat. I imagined if you cut all the muscle off his leg and weighed it, it'd weigh more than me. I glanced at my belly. Well, maybe not.

  "Thank you for coming," Rod continued, his voice a monotone drone. He barely looked at me. His black costume was polished to a shine, his eyemask, a match to Gale's, gleaming as well.

  I nodded, "I'm sorry for your loss."

  I glanced around. Tippys. The stadium was full of them. Very
few costumes were in evidence, and the more colorful ones were covered in black capes or had black armbands on their left biceps. I wondered if they'd charged admission.

  "Bob?"

  I turned. Gale's parents. Oh, God, I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Angin." I stuttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

  Gale's mom reached out. I took her hand. It was trembling. Or maybe that was mine.

  "Thank you."

  I blinked for a moment. Had I missed something? "Thank you?"

  "I know you did everything you could."

  I swallowed.

  She continued, "We're having a...a gathering. Your assistant has the address. I hope you'll come."

  I answered without thinking, "Of course."

  Mrs. Angin pulled her hand back and wrapped it around her husband's arm. Her eyes were swollen. So were his, for that matter. Gale was their only child. This was hitting them hard.

  Alan came up behind me and led me away. Around me, people were whispering and crying. I didn't recognize most of them. But I wasn't looking. It didn't matter. Alan stepped in front of me and motioned to our row, but I walked around him. He turned and followed.

  "We really shouldn't leave yet. It isn't..."

  I turned on Alan, hissing, "Don't say it, Alan. Don't you dare say it. If I hear one more person tell me what Gale would have wanted or what I'm supposed to do, I'm going to lose it."

  Alan's eyes were kind. Sad. Understanding. They made me want to punch him. I bit back a scream and tried to keep myself from running out of the stadium.

  The upside of having Alan for a friend was that the other reporters assumed he was covering my story. It sometimes brought me a little extra attention, but as I walked out, the few reporters that approached took one look at Alan and they stepped back. He probably gave them some sort of super secret reporter hand signal or something.

  When we pushed open the doors and stepped out, I stopped, breathing in deeply. The air felt musty, damp. But it was colder and much farther away from that circus. I looked around. I had no idea where I was. I saw a bench and headed for it. I sat down with a plop. A moment later, Alan sat next to me.