by T. C. Edge
Ragan had, he’d told the group, made sure to not mention the likes of Tanner, or Nadia, or his involvement with Project Dawn, to Commander Wexley. He’d been quite careful in making sure his old boss truly believed he’d done this all for Chloe, and had no intention of destroying the data himself. That, now, might be their only option - but what would happen to Ragan if the truth got out?
Mikel was the problem here. If he was caught and interrogated, what would stop him from revealing Ragan’s true intention? The nano-vamp knew far more about Ragan than he wanted the CID to find out. If they captured Mikel, and Ragan escorted him back to New York…then what?
Surely they’d discover the full extent of Ragan’s duplicity, the truth of his betrayal? That would make him a traitor, punishable by death. If the only option for President Rashmore now was to sanction an attack on the Mid-States, to find and destroy the data, would he spare any pity for Ragan? This man, this double agent, who’d been complicit in all this trouble.
No, of course he wouldn’t. It had been Rashmore who’d commissioned and supported Chloe’s father’s work, Rashmore who’d forced him into such a desperate position as to take his own life, and send Chloe from the city. It was Rashmore who’d begun all of this, who wanted this data, this great and terrible prize, more than anyone else.
If he learned the truth…if Ragan returned to New York with Mikel…then Chloe knew, he wouldn’t be coming back.
The thought made her pulse spike. She looked at Ragan, crouching as he advanced down the street, the rain pattering down a little harder now. Did he know? Had he thought all of this through? Did he truly realise the risks of going back, or was he so blinded by his need to make amends, that he was willing to forgo all the rest.
Willing, perhaps, to sacrifice himself.
Chloe stopped, the others moving on ahead of her. She couldn’t let that happen. No, not him. Not Ragan. She’d sooner give up on all of this than let him go back there. Why had it taken until now for her to realise? Why…
She looked up, and saw that the others had stopped. She could see Ragan’s eyes through his visor, retracted up into his helmet. He looked at her quizzically, before hurrying towards her, eyes glancing left and right.
“What is it?” he asked, anxious. “Have you seen something? Has Remus?” He looked around again, eyes narrowing. “Is Mikel near?”
Mikel. This was all about him…
Her mind ran quickly on. She couldn’t let Ragan return to New York with the vamp. She couldn’t lose him now, after all that had happened. She’d changed this last week. Something had broken inside her. Or…had it been fixed?
By him.
She smiled, nervously, and shook her head.
“Nothing. It’s OK,” she said.
“You’re sure? Remus hasn’t sensed him nearby.” He studied her more closely. “You look pale.”
She lifted the side of her mouth into a crooked grin.
“I always look pale,” she said. “That’s just my complexion.”
“No, this is different. Are you…sure you’re OK? We can stop, take a break if you want?”
Stop, Chloe thought. Yes, stop and turn back. Leave this place for good.
She shook her head, a better plan forming.
“No, I’m really OK. I’ll just…check what Remus can see.”
She shut her eyes again, changing to Remus’ perception. A quick scan revealed nothing new. They were still some way off from the war camp, and a long way from the fighting in the city centre. A few more blocks of these semi-detached homes and they’d reach the tenement towers, the network of narrower streets and lanes.
She opened her eyes, and shrugged.
“Nothing new. Mikel isn’t in range. If he’s still here…”
“He’s here,” growled Ragan, searching. “I can feel it. He’s here…somewhere.”
He gave her another supportive smile, before turning to the others. Both were watching the nearby streets, glancing occasionally at the exchange. Ragan passed by Tanner, whispering an order to him, and retook the lead position. Nadia slipped in behind, with Tanner falling back to Chloe’s side.
“You OK?” he asked quietly as they continued on, the skies continuing to darken. A few crackles of thunder had joined the beat of war, the air shivering with each percussive blast. The accompanying strikes of lightning were still a way off, hardly noticeable in the distant skies.
Chloe reached to her visor, crept a hand into her helmet, and switched off her comms. Tanner frowned.
“What are you…”
She raised a finger to her lips, and looked pointedly at him.
“Just listen,” she whispered. “I don’t want Ragan hearing this.”
“Wh…”
She opened her eyes wide, demanding he stop. His voice cut off, meandering into a breath. Then he mouthed the word, ‘What?’ with a shrug and a frown.
Chloe glanced ahead at Ragan, a dozen metres away, with Nadia just behind. Both were facing forward.
She turned back.
“If Ragan goes to New York,” she whispered quietly. “Then he won’t ever come back. Mikel knows things, Cliff. He knows what Ragan’s intentions have been all along, even if the CID don’t. Going back there…it’s suicide.”
Tanner opened his lips as if to speak, then stopped. He reached up to his visor, flipped it open, and clicked off his own comms unit. He glanced furtively down the street to the others, before looking back at Chloe.
“What did you have in mind then?” he whispered.
“Mikel,” Chloe said. “We don’t capture him. We kill him. We do that, and we stop Ragan from going back to that snake pit.”
Tanner frowned.
“You know how much that appeals to me, Chloe,” he said softly. “I’d love nothing more than to kill that creep. But…if we do this, we may lose the support of the CID. If we don’t get them on our side soon, then…” He shrugged.
“Well, we find someone else,” said Chloe. “What about the WSA? Your people?”
“It’ll take too long to convince anyone else. Ragan has a direct line to the head of the CID. If he can’t make that work, then we’re on our own. Unless Dax finds evidence, which isn’t looking likely.”
“Cliff, you really believe they’re not going to look into this regardless?” whispered Chloe. “The CID, I mean. Of course they will. There’s no harm in them considering it, given the possible dangers, right? I don’t trust them. I don’t trust this Wexley guy. I think they’re just using Mikel as bait, dangling him on a line to get Ragan to bite. I’ll bet they’re taking what Ragan’s said very seriously. They’re just pretending they’re not to bring him in. We can’t let them happen. We can’t lose him. I can’t…”
Chloe was growing desperate, eyes widening, voice pleading. She saw Tanner look ahead once more, eyes darting to the side, then back again. He looked at her pityingly, but thoughtfully too. He was considering her words, eyes pensive, head slowly beginning to nod.
“Maybe,” he whispered eventually, face grim.
The gap between the two pairs was now growing, enough to have Ragan hissing an order down comms. Comms that were currently deactivated for them both. They quickened their step, catching up, feet splashing in the rain.
Ragan looked back at them, frowning. His lips whispered something inaudible. Something they should have heard in their helmets. His frown deepened, and he tapped the side of his helmet questioningly, marching back towards them.
“Did you hear me?” he whispered harshly. “Is something wrong with your comms?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Tanner. “Bit of interference.” He reached up and flicked the switch to reactivate the connection. Chloe secretly did the same. “All right, try again,” Tanner said.
Ragan spoke once more, and his voice filtered cleanly into Chloe’s ears. Tanner nodded.
“All good,” he said. “So what were you saying?”
Ragan scowled, suspicious of something, but didn’t appear interested in furtherin
g the matter.
“Nothing, just that you two had lost ground. We need to keep tight at a unit.”
“Sure,” said Tanner.
“Sorry,” said Chloe.
Ragan appeared unable to stay bitter at the latter. His expression softened and he turned back ahead once more, pacing off into the lead.
Chloe looked up at Tanner as Ragan moved off, a resolute grin rising up on the Californian’s face. He nodded to her, and mouthed something very slowly, and very clearly.
OK, he said, green eyes glinting with purpose. We’ll kill the freak.
78
Mikel’s eyes were staring forward, unblinking, unmoving, watching his prey.
He could see them through the falling rain, four shadows in the growing gloom. Two at the front, two just behind, dressed in black and with rifles to their shoulders. They were coming his way, moving from the family homes of the southeastern suburbs and towards the network of apartment blocks in which Mikel lurked. This would be a better hunting ground for him. Best to let them come near.
He needed to be careful now, his movements precise and well timed. Hunt, he knew, had a lens capable of scanning for lifeforms via infrared, though its range was limited. With this cold rain, however, Mikel was able to lower his body temperature, marking him as invisible to such scanners. The rain was an ally to him, bringing darkness to conceal him, noise to hide his step. A great boon in the hunt, if you were smart.
And I am smart, Mikel thought with a smile. My mind is my greatest asset.
He couldn’t stay here, though, not for long. Hunt’s scanner also had an X-ray setting, though really that was of little use. He could see through a wall or two, perhaps, if he utilised it, but Mikel never planned on getting quite that close.
At least, not until the very end.
What was of greater concern was that drone of the Phantom girl. He’d noticed it often over the previous few days, fluttering about, changing its form, mutating before his eyes. A remarkable invention, no doubt, and a troublesome one too. It seemed to have a large array of sensors of its own, feeding the information directly to its master. Mikel had wondered just how Chloe had managed to fire that lightning of hers at him at the farm when she was blinded by the sensory grenade; it was as if she could see where he was. Clearly, she had this drone of hers to thank for that.
He could see it now, hovering above the group about twenty or so metres in the air. It was ahead of them too, scanning the way forward, its view from up there far better than theirs down on the ground.
Seeing it, Mikel thought of another benefit of this falling rain - he could, in fact, see it.
That wasn’t always the case. Mikel missed little, and one thing he’d come to realise was the fact that this little drone also had a cloaking function. When used for infiltration, surveillance, or reconnaissance, it had the remarkable ability to turn all but invisible to the naked eye.
But not now. Not with this rain.
Difficult though it remained to see, Mikel could see it, just about, its outline visible by the strange manner in which the rain bounced off its otherwise invisible surface. The falling droplets splashed off it, rolling down the sides of the little orb, dropping back into the tempest. Most wouldn’t even consider looking up, let alone notice it.
But Mikel did. He knew what to look for, and he’d found just that.
It was close now, that drone, preceding the others creeping along beneath it. It would spot him soon if he didn’t move, and thus it was time to displace.
Retreating down his dark alley, he began working backwards, hidden by the tall side of the building. Flitting through the gloom like a spectre, he covered the ground quickly, his fleetness and lightness of foot barely causing a splash in the accumulating pools as he went. He reached the end of the lane, turning right, sweeping off down another narrow street, distancing himself from the group.
His aim, really, was very simple - get around then, get behind them. Sneak in and snare one before they knew he was there.
Of course, this group were tightly knit, working in tandem quite nicely, and so bagging his prize wouldn’t be quite so easy. Mikel had thought them useless by the manner of his recent escape, easily manipulating them to ease his passage from their grasp. He’d so enjoyed those moments until that cursed group of soldiers arrived, preventing him from feeding. So odd that they appeared to be of the Crimson Corps too.
Mikel smiled at the thought, finding all of this so humorous. The constant warring, the betrayals, the one-upmanship between individuals, groups, and nations. These people never appeared to be satisfied, ever seeking greater power, lands, money, weapons. They were just so…so complicated. For every one of them who valued human life, who desired peace, there would be another who’d be happy to sanction genocide, who revelled in war.
It wasn’t quite the same for Mikel, driven by his simple desires as he was. Of course, that might change soon. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d function in a new shell, his biological hunger gone, his lust for nanites no longer a concern. The thought was saddening to him, but at the same time exhilarating. A new chapter, a new challenge. Perhaps, he mused, I’m more complicated than I thought.
He continued on, circling his prey, quickly coming around behind them while keeping his distance. He lost sight of them as he went, but knew the path they were taking. Their nanites, that strange mix of Panther, Spectre, Southern Queen, were more difficult to detect in the rain, their scents masked by the shower. He drew nearer once more, and their scents rose up, signalling their proximity.
They were close.
He crept slower, more carefully, eyes crafted skyward. There…
The little drone swam through the rain two dozen metres up. It seemed to have stopped temporarily, holding its position. Mikel craned his neck around the side of a building and saw the group, a cluster of black figures, taking brief refuge behind the crumbling wall of a tenement block. They appeared to be in conversation, perhaps stopping to scan the area.
Yes, yes that was it. The Phantom girl was searching through the drone. It appeared his presence was yet to be noted.
He stayed where he was, watching, waiting, refusing to move an inch. They were a distance away, past an intersection where four streets met, this area of the city manifested in a grid pattern, the roads straight and rigid, the layout utilitarian. Around them, the apartment and office blocks grew taller now, some rising a dozen storeys high. Several had been badly damaged, the fighting clearly passing this way some time ago. The sight of battered walls, torn up by bombs and bullets was a common one here, elsewhere…everywhere.
Mikel watched on, considering his next move. Right now, attacking them would be difficult, even foolish. He needed to separate a weak lamb from the flock, and he knew just which lamb he wanted most. But how? How to force them apart?
They never seemed to move more than a few metres from one another. If one didn’t spot him coming, then another would. And any quick movement would be detected by that drone.
A sudden wave of doubt spread through the vamp. Was this necessary? He could get caught or killed if he wasn’t careful, and for what? His mind had been on Chloe for some time, those nanites of hers such a grand prize among his kind. But did they mean anything now? Yes, they were still unique, still special, but Mikel’s entire existence was about to change. Soon, his lust for her would be gone. This would all be a thing of the past.
But not yet. His desires remained powerful, his urges so difficult to deny. He couldn’t walk away now, no matter the possible cost. His instincts were too profound to allow for such a thing. He was an addict, staring his greatest vice in the face. His willpower would never be enough to draw him back.
No, he’d wait, he’d stalk, he’d enjoy the hunt as he always did. Before long, he’d have a chance. Before long, he’d…
His thoughts shut off, suddenly, unexpectedly. His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing. What was that? Some smell in the air. A strange collection of nanites…but not from Hunt’s
group ahead.
The smell was faint, but detectable, coming from the west. A more powerful grouping than the four ahead, suggesting a larger team. His nasal sensors sifted quickly through, zeroing in on the different odours - Panthers, Spectres, a couple of Southern Kings, a grouping of nano-enhanced that could only mean one thing.
The Crimson Corps.
Mikel started, the truth dawning. His eyes turned towards the west, where the budding smell was coming from, close enough to be detectable through the falling rain.
Could it be? He wondered. Were these the same soldiers from the farm? Had they tracked Hunt’s team here…or Mikel himself?
He gritted his teeth, fangs extending. He wasn’t going to be denied his prize again…
He looked again down the street at the huddle of black figures, the drone still unmoving up in the sky. They appeared calm still, unaware of the incoming threat. Mikel’s mind rushed on, wondering what to do.
And then the answer came, clear as a mountain spring - he didn’t have to do anything. All he needed was to let things play out.
The groups would soon cross paths. And in the confusion of the ensuing fight, he’d be able to strike.
Good, he thought with a devilish grin. What a stroke of luck.
Ragan and the gang hunkered down at the corner of an intersection, out of cover of the rain inside an old, ground floor apartment. The wall at this corner of the building had been partially blasted apart, creating a hole big enough for them to pass through. There was a bed in the corner, mouldy and soiled, which made clear the room’s previous intention as a bedroom.
Outside, the rain was now falling harder, coming down in thick, incessant sheets. The black combat suits they wore were, thankfully, waterproof, while helping to keep their core temperatures high. Such a thing was important in combat situations.
Right now, all eyes were on Chloe, whose own eyes were shut tight. They waited a few moments for her to scan the area, Remus maintaining his vigil above. When she opened her eyes, her first reaction was to shake her head, as she’d done several times already over the last hour.