by T. C. Edge
“Don’t die,” she whispered, blinking away a burgeoning tear, repeating what he’d said to her bare minutes ago.
He smiled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, following the script. “I’ll sort things, and come back to you. I’m not leaving you, Chloe,” he said firmly.
“You better not,” she said with a smirk that defied the situation. “I kinda like having you around.”
He grinned, eyes dancing.
“Me too.” He looked up. “Now go.”
She hesitated, looking at him a final time, as if finding it impossible to draw herself away. Then Nadia’s voice came towards them on the wind, calling for them to hurry. Her words seemed to lasso Chloe, forcing her into action. She stepped - then ran - away from Ragan. And he watched them disappear into the fog.
He turned, knowing it was the right thing to do, and held his form in the middle of the street. He could see the black figures beginning to materialise in the distance now, the unique garb of the Panthers, his once-brothers, spreading up the street towards him. They worked as a unit, the dozen of them moving quickly but carefully, armed with high tech weapons and armour. A fight with them would be folly. That was not his intention.
He moved forward now, slowly, dropping his rifle to the floor. He lifted up his hands, raising them high into the air. The men continued onwards, forms growing clearer. Ragan glanced back again to see that the others had disappeared.
He sucked in a breath, calming himself, preparing himself. The Panthers slowed as they ventured on, cautious now, wary of this strange behaviour. Ragan gently reached to his helmet, pulling it away, discarding it to the sodden earth. His dark hair grew slick immediately, the deluge pouring onto his face, cold and stirring.
The Panthers stopped, taking positions along the street, rifles trained on Ragan. He raised his hands skyward again, hoping they’d recognise him.
“My name is Agent Ragan Hunt,” he called out, voice working through the downpour. “I need immediate transfer to the CID in New York. I must speak with Commander Wexley.”
The men hesitated, glancing at each other. Ragan couldn’t be sure how much they knew of everything that had been going on. They’d know Ragan by name, perhaps, and some may even have served with him once before, but it wasn’t likely that they were fully aware of his recent behaviour.
“I have been hunting the nano-vamp known as Mikel,” Ragan went on, hands still raised. “My job was to capture him and return him to the CID for questioning. He managed to evade me and get away. I must brief Commander Wexley immediately.”
The men closed in to his sides in flanking positions, with three coming forward towards Ragan from the front. Ragan held firm, arms still aloft. One of the approaching men - the one in the centre of the three ahead - reached up, pulling off his black helmet. Ragan didn’t recognise him.
“Agent Hunt,” the man said, stepping forwards. The men remained tense. “We know who you are. Now I’ll ask you to lower your hands, and place them behind your back.”
Ragan frowned.
“I’m no criminal, Captain,” he said, noting the man’s rank by the markings on his helmet.
“It is precaution,,” said the man, emotionlessly. “You understand our protocol.”
Ragan nodded, dropping his hands. He considered furthering the discussion to give his friends more time to escape, but didn’t push his luck, and didn’t have much of a choice. He’d made his decision now, and had no option but to follow it through.
One of the men to the captain’s flank moved behind Ragan, locking his wrists tight into cuffs. The men visibly relaxed once he’d been restrained. They were acting like he really was a criminal. Which he was, technically, but were they to know that?
The captain stepped forwards, closing the gap between them. He got up close, studying Ragan carefully, dark eyes narrow and intense. He drew a slight sneer, and shook his head.
“Commander Wexley will be disappointed,” he said, “that you let Mikel escape again.”
Ragan tensed.
“He’s a formidable adversary, Captain,” he growled. “Now let’s not loiter here in the rain. I need to see…”
“Yes, I know full well,” cut in the man, hair thin and short, chin sliced with a deep scar that his nanites had failed to fully fix. “The orders are to take you right to him. And to put you under to be sure of compliance.”
“Put me under?” balked Ragan. “I don’t think that’s necessary…”
“You don’t decide what’s necessary, Agent Hunt,” grunted the captain. He looked to one of his men, and nodded. Immediately, Ragan heard hurried footsteps and felt a stab in his neck. He grimaced, but the discomfort lasted a moment only. Within a second, his vision was quickly blurring, his limbs turning limp.
Men came forward to take the weight of his falling body, ready to haul him away.
And the last thing he saw, as the darkness closed in, was the face of the captain…regarding him with disdain.
82
Chloe didn’t look back as she rushed on, drawing upon the final shreds of her energy. Her visor remained open, drops of rain getting through and splashing onto her face. They met eyes and cheeks that were already wet with tears.
Stuck fast to Tanner’s left, with Nadia to his right, the trio continued on as one, Remus now guiding them down the shortest route. They wended left and right, seeking the solitude of quieter lanes, Remus navigating them past and around any blocked paths ahead. Chloe’s mind swam with a thousand thoughts and concerns, her legs pounding the sodden pavement, body operating on autopilot.
It said a lot that Nadia hadn’t even asked what Ragan was doing, why he was staying behind. She already knew that it had to be done, lest they all be caught and captured by the NDSA. Her eyes turned regularly to Tanner as they went, crafted in grief and horror. Even through her visor, the red around them was clear to Chloe, speaking of the tears that flowed.
Chloe looked at Tanner too, his head low, blood now clotting as his nanites worked hard to perform some early repair of his wounds. The longer they took to stitch him up and lay the foundations on which his nanites could build, the worse the scarring would be. That, however, was inevitable now. The deepest lacerations and cuts looked to have reached the bone, and that eye, that right eye, wasn’t going to be saved.
Tanner would be left half blinded, Chloe knew. Blinded and terribly scarred. It was strange, in a way, to feel such grief at the thought, given how many people were dying out there. This was only superficial, after all, and he’d still be able to see. But somehow, it seemed just as bad, a horrible fate for a man who took such pride in his looks.
Chloe felt a renewed fury and hate at the thought, the memory, the sight of Mikel scratching so ferociously at his flesh. This was precisely what the vamp had wanted for Cliff; to mutilate him, leave him deformed. He could have killed him if he wanted. He had the element of surprise, had him unconscious beneath him. He could just as well have sliced through his jugular, severing his carotid, let him bleed out there in the rain. He could have spared him this fate, and let him die. But no, he wanted him to live like this. It was vile cruelty, nothing more.
And yet, he’d gotten away. The creature had escaped again.
A grimace curled onto her lips as she ran, her breathing pressing out of her nose in sharp, rage-filled snorts. All of this was for nothing. Tanner was badly hurt, Ragan was gone, and Mikel hadn’t even been caught. Now what were they to do?
Get back to the falcon, a voice inside Chloe said, calming, yet authoritative. Get back there, do what you can for Tanner, and get the hell out of here.
She nodded to herself, her resolve reforming, and hurried on, turning her focus to immediate concerns. She commanded Remus to move higher, perform a wider check of the area behind them. He did so, confirming some rare good news - they were no longer being pursued. It looked like they’d gotten away. It looked like Ragan’s plan had worked.
Chloe didn’t relax, though. She couldn’t. Another concern bubbl
ed, that of Mikel. Could he still be out there, lurking? Might he know where they’d left the falcon, and be waiting to greet them there when they returned?
She wouldn’t put anything past him, and though part of her ached for a reunion with him, now wasn’t the time for any of them to enact their revenge. They needed to recharge and recover. In their current state, with Tanner badly injured, Chloe exhausted, and Nadia so flustered, he’d see both the girls to the grave, and leave Tanner how he was.
They just had to hope that Mikel had fled from the NDSA soldiers. It seemed the likely move for a coward like him.
With Remus on high alert, they splashed their way on south, the storm still grumbling loudly. More lightning flashed and thunder bellowed, the heart of the storm passing overhead. Building by building, street by street, they ventured through the southern suburbs, passing the old picket-fenced family homes long since abandoned, the ghosts of a once vibrant conurbation.
Eventually, the underpass came into view right towards the outskirts of the city, the falcon hidden underneath. They hurried under and out of the pouring rain, opened up the jet, and helped haul Tanner inside, all dripping wet and shivering from the relentless pursuit, if not the cold. They moved him right for the briefing table, laying him down, Nadia scurrying around for medical supplies. She drew a syringe from a medikit, sinking it into Tanner’s neck, putting a temporary end to his incoherent mumblings as she applied the potent sedative and anaesthetic.
His left eye, curled in anguish, began to flicker and close. Nadia laid a hand onto his arm, whispering softly.
“Sleep now, darling. It’ll all be all right. I promise.”
She lifted his hand and kissed it gently, blinking away a growing tear. Then she grunted, firming up, and looked to Chloe.
“Stay with him a second,” she said. “I need to get us out of here.”
Chloe watched her as she rushed off towards the cockpit - she wasn’t aware that Nadia could fly - before turning her eyes to Tanner again, Remus landing on her shoulder in bird form, watching on, forlorn. The calm of the falcon’s interior, without the noise and gloomy shroud of the pouring rain, put his injuries into stark focus. There were dozens of gashes, some shallow, some deep, each of varying length and direction. Many criss-crossed one another, creating ‘x’ marks and junctions where the flesh opened up, blooming like red flowers. He was impossible to recognise without knowing it was him. Only his left eye remained untouched, his nose badly cut and askew, his lips split.
Chloe’s eyes grew wet at the sight, her insides knotting and coiling up tight. She turned to the medical supplies, set in metal cabinets to one side on the interior wall, and began rooting around for medical staplers. She found a pair and turned back, just as the falcon began to rise and drift slowly from beneath the underpass. She stopped, the jet’s motion making her unsteady, her trembling hand no help either.
What was she going to do? Start stapling his flesh together, alone, without Nadia to help? She had no experience of such things. She shook her head and placed the staplers down, feeling completely helpless.
The jet rose a little awkwardly - though whether that was because Nadia was inexperienced, or due to the storm, Chloe didn’t know - shuddering as it lifted into the swirling, stormy sky. Chloe held the table’s edge with one hand, and reached over to Tanner’s chest with the other, making sure he didn’t roll off or fall to the floor. The jet continued up, teetering a little from side to side, before the engines began to burn louder, as if set to shoot them skyward at speed. Chloe felt her chest tense at the sensation, hunkering lower and holding onto Tanner tighter. Then the engines suddenly calmed, and Nadia came rushing back down the passage, shaking her head.
“I’m not thinking straight,” she grunted, annoyed with herself. “We have to strap him down first or he’ll go flying off.”
They set about doing so, the briefing table clearly doubling up for this particular purpose. From underneath, straps extended, allowing them to shackle Tanner to the surface. Once done, Nadia told Chloe to take a seat and strap in, though didn’t indicate just where - presumably her normal seat for takeoff at the front of the jet. Chloe instead chose to take the co-pilots chair, rushing up through the passage to the cockpit with her friend, who dropped hurriedly into the pilot’s seat.
“I…didn’t realise you could fly,” croaked Chloe, nervously watching Nadia prepare the jet for skyward acceleration.
“I know enough,” Nadia said, flipping switches and tapping buttons. “The autopilot’s a good guide to fill in the blanks.”
Chloe took her word for it. Nadia was far too sensible a character to try to fly this thing unless she knew she could. Although, the storm was making things a little trickier, and she admitted herself that she wasn’t quite thinking straight…
Strapping herself in, Chloe sat back, holding onto her armrests as Nadia kicked the falcon into gear. The engines grew louder once more, the power thrusters used for vertical takeoff turning to the rear for regular, forward flight. Ahead, the stormy skies were blurred by the rain splashing wildly on the windshield. Chloe shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, and felt Remus’ clawed metal feet grip tighter at her shoulder.
The jet accelerated, pinning Chloe back. She held a breath as it went, pressing through the stormy skies, rising up at an angle as it fled from the heart of the tempest. It took a few moments only for the acceleration to level out, the pressure to equalise. Chloe let out a breath and opened her eyes again to find the falcon engulfed in cloud, the jet shaking and shuddering as it passed pockets of thicker mist, buffeted by the fierce winds.
After a few frustrating and rather frightening minutes, the shaking started to cease, and the falcon sped out of the dark grey clouds and entered into calmer surroundings, high up in the sky. Clouds remained, though lighter and less densely clumped, and the rain became a gentle patter. Chloe looked through the window and saw the large wall of dark grey storm clouds pressing on over the landscape, the city invisible beneath its bulk. She was glad to be free of it.
But Ragan…he was still down there…
Nadia put the jet into auto-pilot and hover mode, the thrusters changing position again to keep it steady. Then she unclipped herself and rushed back to Tanner, Chloe following right behind, Remus leaving her shoulder and fluttering through after them.
They found Tanner still in place, his straps enough to keep him fastened to the table. Chloe picked up the medical staplers and looked at Nadia. The Texan took them gingerly, her eyes nervous.
“Do you have any experience with that?” Chloe asked.
“Some,” said Nadia. “I’m…going to need your help.”
Chloe nodded, similarly nervous. She’d stitched up a scar or two of her own over the years, but nothing that compared to this. Her efforts had been poor enough, even with shallow wounds, to create uneven, unsightly scars. The one on her abdomen that the guard, Matt, had spotted at Sub-Tower 12, had been of her own doing.
She looked at Tanner’s face with trepidation. They needed a proper medic for this job, someone experienced at operating on such grievous wounds. Even then, the scarring would probably be bad - neater, yes, but highly visible. This was a very serious job, and needed a highly competent hand to limit the damage. Tanner didn’t have that luxury, and the longer they left it, the worse it would be. Close the cuts now, and his nanites would have an easier job healing and stitching the flesh together. They needed to get this done. They needed to be brave.
“I suggest we start with the worst ones,” said Nadia, looking up at Chloe, as if she wanted confirmation. Chloe nodded. “We can use the stapler for the deeper, larger cuts, and then suture the smaller ones with thread. I’ve done some of that before,” she added, growing in some confidence.
Chloe nodded again, and Nadia pointed out the worst of Tanner’s gashes. With trembling fingers, Chloe reached out and touched the torn, inflamed flesh, pulling it together. Very gently, Nadia positioned the stapler, and pressed down, binding the ripped flesh b
ack together. They continued the process, moving along the cut until it had been fully closed.
Chloe tried to block it all out as they worked, moving from cut to cut, closing them as best they could. Once they’d reached the limits of what the less delicate stapler could manage, Nadia hurried over and fetched precision tweezers and thread for the smaller wounds. She worked diligently, Chloe acting as nurse in wiping blood and helping wherever she could. To Chloe’s admittedly untrained eyes, Nadia appeared more adept than she’d made out, her focus becoming quite intense as she worked. That panic, that grief in her face, faded as she set about the task.
Chloe lost track of just how long they worked, the minutes flooding by as the storm outside dissipated. Bit by bit, Tanner’s face came back together, though there appeared to be nothing they could do about his right eye. His nose was reformed, his lips sewn back up, the jagged gashes knitted together. What remained was a patchwork of tracks dividing swollen and bloodied flesh. It was the best they could do. Both knew it wouldn’t be enough.
They applied antiseptic to aid his nanites in the recovery, covering the stitched cuts with dressings and putting a patch over his right eye. Almost his entire face was covered in white cloth, his left eye about the only part of him you could still see. That eye remained closed, and would be like that for a while.
Nadia administered an additional shot, one that would help his nanites to function at full capacity for an extended time while he remained unconscious. His wounds would heal quickly, and only time would tell of the extent of the damage. They’d have to be patient now, and wait. Wait to see how Tanner healed; wait for Ragan to get in contact.
Ragan…
Chloe felt a fresh pulse of grief, her emotions so drained. She dropped into a chair at the front of the jet, leaving Nadia alone by Tanner’s side, gently stroking his hair. It seemed both of them needed some space, some time alone, to process things.
Chloe slumped back, Remus dropping down beside her. He drew near, curling up and resting in the nook of her arm.