by Russ Linton
Ember had an Asian heritage, where Jackie had gotten hers. Jackie always secretly hoped the stereotype of youthful looks held true. She wasn't vain, but she needed to age well with the crazy stress she put herself under. While hunting the Hindu Kush for a rogue Augment probably topped her list, it didn't come close to the things Ember had done.
Wearing a supernova must have plenty of advantages. And flight—god what she wouldn't give for that right now. Haj would see her for miles of course, but she wouldn't care. She could melt the incoming bullets, detonate the rockets.
Jackie closed her hand around the pendant she wore. She was being a kid again, stupidly gushing over her idol. Now was not the time. Never the time.
Their course steepened, and she withheld a groan. They'd moved away from the luxury of a boot-wide channel to push further up an exposed slope. She struggled against the incline, doing her best to not send rocks skittering below. Hound slowed, though he didn't offer a hand like Jacobs or Donovan might. She respected him for that.
Danger moved noiselessly, both stealth and speed. He was a mystery. She'd never heard of him in all her Augment chasing days. With the sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, she pegged him for special forces perhaps. Or black ops. If the high-powered Augments, the heavies, operating in the open were frightening, he made her skin crawl.
She paused for a "Where's Waldo" shot up the hill toward Danger. The frame caught part of Hound's shoulder as he turned to face her. He didn't stop her, simply motioned to keep up. Jackie took a few blind steps, backsliding on the gravel while she thumbed through the photos.
She'd had Danger in the top right third near an outcropping where a stunted tree provided scant cover. As much as she could zoom in on the backlit display, she could find no trace of him.
Hound picked his way down the slope to crowd at her shoulder. "Whadya get?"
She glanced sidelong at him, his rough features full of mischief. "Nothing."
"He's shy. Won't get any glamour shots unless he wants you to have 'em. Leaves too much a trail as to where he's been."
"Extreme camera shyness powers?"
"You could say that. If he had any talent, I'd tell him to get in showbiz. Drive them paparazzi mad." He waggled his fuzzy eyebrows. "Come on, let's get movin'."
Jackie stowed her camera and followed, keeping her eyes fixed on Danger as he moved stealthily toward the rise. Lots of crazy shit she could buy, but a guy who could avoid her lens? Whatever the two Augments were up to, Ember or no Ember, she'd do her job.
ONCE THEY REACHED THE top, she nearly screamed across the valley for joy. There'd been so much to deal with in the past twenty-four hours, the forced silence grated her nerves. Her brief exchange with Hound hadn't been enough to release all the weight she carried beneath the crushing load of her pack. Moving on without the boys, escaping from a deadly trap which also meant leaving the only safe spot in the entire valley, combined with hints she could be close to meeting Ember, had all been too much.
"You ought to get yer picture here." Hound crouched near the ridgeline. Back straight, he showed no sign of fatigue while she stooped, barely upright, hands on her knees.
"I'll get right on it," she said.
They'd caught up with Danger, and he tilted his head as her heavy pack clattered to the ground. She detected more than a passing disapproval. Dropping nearly half her body weight without complete and utter silence, taking a break, leaving more than a boot print on the ground, who knew what had drawn his ire?
She wasn't much for landscape photos. As remote and unwelcoming as this place was, she could make an exception. She sure as hell wasn't ever coming back here. Camera in hand she joined them.
Outside a frequent hail of weapons fire and bombs and those freaky monkeys who'd wake her from a dead sleep with their horror movie chorus, the valley was genuinely beautiful. The view offered a unique picture unscathed by violence and time.
Three distinct villages nestled into the valley walls. Buildings rode the terraced steps, their stacked stone and rough timbers seeming to have grown there rather than been constructed. Verdant green shelves extended from the lower slopes where human ingenuity irrigated the land using both the higher elevation snowmelt and the river snaking through the valley.
Aside from the lush green fields, the villages provided their own hints of color. Vibrant streaks of paint outlined balconies, window ledges, and filled the occasional full wall. Drab stone and graying wood were brought to life with pinks, sea greens, and even a shade of orange paint which was her personal favorite.
On the western slope, she saw the burning glint of Landigal’s solar panel farm. And where the rest of the buildings grew out of the steep slopes, one shattered house looked as though the valley had grown into it. A tree had sprouted, impossibly huge, in the gap where the stray bomb had landed. The roof timbers rested in a fork of the trunk and bricks angled along the bent heights, up to the lower boughs.
"I know where we are," she said.
"Same here," Hound squinted toward her. "Only I got a map to tell me. What do you know?"
"Landigal. I couldn't have brought us back here myself. This was our last patrol before the valley was lost. Serious Taliban presence there, but the Captain had been working hard to turn them. A bad airstrike ended that."
"So, this lady's husband she was talkin' about musta died there?"
Jackie nodded grimly. "Her daughter, too. She'd been down at the river washing clothes with her sister when it happened. I got close and took some pictures if you want to see them. Some of those panels on the upper slopes are new," she said. She pulled up the photos of the house and handed him her camera.
"I figured," Hound grunted.
The idea seemed to offend him, and Jackie couldn't say why. Hound moved away from the ridge and settled against a boulder. He rotated the camera several times, drawing it away from his face before handing it to Danger. Danger browsed the photos, occasionally flashing the screen at Hound who'd nod with a thoughtful frown.
"What else can you tell me about the situation back home," she asked.
Danger spoke flatly. "Think New Orleans after Katrina in every city north of about Oklahoma."
"My god," she whispered. "Then why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate the rescue mission."
"Safer," said Danger. A wordless message passed between him and Hound and the quiet Augment slipped down the hillside.
It was obvious the two had worked together before. She'd gotten used to the freaky situational telepathy of tight-knit groups. Fellow soldiers, war reporters, she'd occasionally shared the same. Not all of them had survived, but Danger felt impervious. She wondered how many teammates he'd seen die when death itself shunned him.
"We're here because a rogue Augment program puts the entire world at risk," said Hound. "And home...she's vulnerable. Down, but not out. Any hostile nation comes along with a full-blown Augment program now? We're done."
"What about those already on the loose? Since Killcreek, half of them seem to be gunning for the U.S. anyway."
Hound's face darkened. She saw sorrow in his eyes, a deep pain, and her mind went reflexively to her camera, but she let the moment go.
"Oh, they got that all figured out." He spit to the side. "They reactivated the Black Beetle."
"What?" Jackie had to reel in her volume. "The whackjob responsible for delivering those Augments to Killcreek?" Speculation had run rampant in the days following the battle, but she thought she'd kept up with all the developments. "Isn't he dead?"
"Yep. First one's long gone. Wish it were him instead, though."
"Is he after them all? After Ember?"
Hound shook his head and examined the ground. "I don't know anymore. So far he's limiting his operations to the U.S." A tortured smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Don't think Ember wants to kill the kid anyway."
"What kid?" The moniker sparked her journalistic curiosity. Was Hound implying the feared and hated Black Beetle was nothing more than a ki
d with some dangerous toys?
"You best get some rest. Danger's going to scout things out. Tonight, we'll slip down there and have a look-see."
She tried again, and he wouldn't say any more. Whoever this Beetle was, he'd best stay clear of Ember. They had business, and she wasn't about to let some overgrown bug get in the way. Jackie fell asleep, back to her gear, and dreamed of melting tanks with her bare hands, watching Ember cook the Black Beetle, and flying beside her with wax wings.
CHAPTER 26
JACKIE PICKED HER WAY down the slope, moonlight her only guide. Danger was somewhere ahead with Hound following behind. They'd long since descended into the scrub and trees. The last light in the village had winked out. Any view of their destination was lost.
Danger had returned earlier in the evening with unsurprising news—the village was well armed. The whole of the countryside was, but the locals no longer had any need to hide their weapons.
She'd left her gear stashed among the rocks. She wouldn't be lingering with a tripod and a lengthy exposure time to try and get pictures. Her camera came with her, that was all.
Accompanying patrols was second nature, but she couldn't shake the rush. Nobody ever fully got used to this life, Jackie decided. A hidden fuse wired in the brain kept anyone from overstaying their welcome. It burned short and hot while deployed and then at a crawl, but even at home, the bomb was always there ready to blow you to pieces in your most vulnerable moments.
These two soldiers had her second-guessing her theory, though. Hound especially. Danger had his spooky way of walking between bullets, erasing his name from them in mid-flight. All Hound had was anything a good hunting dog had. Yet he'd become a fixture on battlefields since Korea, or even World War Two. Maybe there was a way to get used to the constant threat and horror.
The ground leveled, and she slowed her pace. Nothing ever flattened here unless man had shaped it. A thin screen of trees separated them from a spill of moonlight across a field.
Danger emerged from the shadows and held up his hand. She stopped, the surge of adrenaline coursing. She could just make out ghostly shapes of buildings across the flat stretch. They had a lot of ground to cover and a short wall on the far side hardly tall enough to crouch behind.
She reminded herself she didn't need to be scared. Running into known peril was better than the alternative. Since this unending War on Terror began, she'd had colleagues snatched out of taxi cabs on the way to the airport or abducted from their own hotel rooms. She'd seen them again on shaky home videos pleading for ransoms to be paid. The dangers you didn't expect were the ones to worry about.
Hound caught up fast. Another round of silent communication and Danger plunged into the moonlight. A tap on her shoulder and she did the same.
The sudden burst of movement after so much skulking was like bottling up a marathon and chugging. Cool mountain air seared her lungs. The fertile soil felt unbelievably soft and springy. Blood flowing, arms pumping, maybe flight wasn't so far away. By the time she skidded into a crouch on the far side, she was smiling.
When they'd each made the run, they pressed on at a crab's pace behind the wall. A shadow made long by the brightness of the moon concealed their awkward movements. Once, at a steep angle over the uneven stone wall, she thought she saw movement. Danger didn't pause so neither did she.
Legs aching, Jackie bit back a sigh of relief when the wall intersected with a building. Her thighs twinged as she straightened to a stoop. She had to soften her steps at the point the soft ground surrendered to hard packed earth. They passed darkened windows right off their shoulders. She heard snores through one and held her breath.
They slipped under a balcony and crossed a narrow alley. She stole a glance. The village looked like a medieval fortification with stone walls crowded together and stacked high into the night sky. Somewhere, water trickled. Chickens clucked in a sleepless rhythm. Not a soul in sight. She felt Hound's hand on her shoulder and quickened her pace.
From their roost above the village, the burned-out home had seemed so close. But they crept on and on through the silvery darkness. She kept her focus on the tree, the new one she'd seen right beside the house. Tall and straight, no others grew this high on the slopes. The Lady's powers could be the only explanation.
When they reached the tree, she saw another short, fuzzy sapling huddled at the base.
Danger slipped through the shattered wall and out of sight. Jackie followed closely. The larger tree formed an arched bower over blasted out bricks creating both ceiling support and a new door frame.
She paused for her eyes to adjust. The house was the single room she remembered. Across from her was the fireplace. The sturdy mantle which had somehow survived the blast supported a careful arrangement of dishes and heirlooms.
She realized she was likely standing exactly where the blood stain had been. Husband and daughter dead as they ate breakfast. She pushed further inside.
Able to see more detail, the floor looked clean. She recalled her photos. The freshly blasted hole had been mixed with signs of furniture, or maybe just wooden support beams blown to splinters. There had been metal bowls or silverware. Obviously, the Lady, or maybe her sister, had kept the place tidy while she wandered the valley exacting revenge.
She remembered when her father had told her about her mother. Spring break had been a good until then. Sporting her Ember orange hair, she'd even borrowed his electric razor while he'd lain too hung over to protest and completed the look, Mohawk and all. But Jackie had become a woman days later, and he was so far out of his depth, he stayed sober for a week.
The blood had shocked her at first. Enough her father had taken on the laundry. He was scrubbing at the stain on her sheets, a faraway look she'd now come to associate with soldiers returned home from combat, and he muttered, "I wish your mother was here."
He never spoke about her mysterious mother if he could avoid it. Drunken ramblings made up the patchwork of her family history. When he’d said those few words standing at the laundry room sink, somehow everything became clear to her.
The photos and magazine clippings he'd collected of the Augment which she'd rescued from the trash. His reluctance to let her color her hair the same vivid orange. His obsession with the Augment which he'd transferred to her. Ember was her mother.
They didn't talk about it. She just moved closer and helped work at the stain, blood coloring the water to rust like the dye she would later let dull and rinse out of her hair.
Jackie hoped the Lady had had help cleaning the blood of her family from the ground.
Hound was already at work. He was busy moving a couple of thin mattresses from the floor to cover a window. Once blocked, he pulled out a red-lensed flashlight and stuffed it in her hands.
"You're the reporter. Dig up a story for us." A pat on her shoulder and he took a position by the window while Danger crouched near the door.
A reporter? She did her best work when photos told the story, but at times she'd needed an interview. Editors always wanted facts. Whether they printed them or not, well, she didn't make it her business.
Jackie had seen this sort of search done many times. Soldiers would toss the place, overturning every little thing in a rush to get in and out. Translators weren't always right at hand nor was patience. But her job had been to record, never participate.
She looked pleadingly at Hound, but he faced the window. Danger wouldn't offer any sympathy. She'd have to perform the search, but she'd do it her way.
As close as she'd grown with the troops, as much as she understood their actions, she couldn't disrespect this house. She'd cleaned up after others most of her life. Besides, it wouldn't do any good to leave evidence they'd been here.
She felt her way carefully through the pillows. A rickety dresser leaned against a wall, and she sifted through each drawer. She ran her hands along the mattresses to make sure there were no hidden stashes. Neatly folded blankets and rugs rested in a nook, all empty. She scraped through
the dust on the floor and lifted the rugs there, rolling up each one, testing the floor. Nothing.
Hound caught her eye. He gave a hurried gesture. He'd led them here with his nose, but he could only say where his quarry had been. Too bad the old guy couldn't sniff out clues.
Her eyes went to the fireplace. Then to the sturdy mantle, a single piece of rough-cut timber as thick as her thigh. So much care had been taken to replace each item.
Skipping the collection of cookware and utensils, Jackie felt her way behind the mantle. Splinters clawed at her fingertips, and the jagged stone scraped her knuckles. At the far corner, her hand sunk into a cavity. She brushed against something cold and smooth as glass. With two fingers, she could tell she'd found a smartphone.
Jackie pulled several times, trying to navigate the blind space. Each time, she found a solid barrier and had to start again. She worked her hand deeper behind the mantle until she stood sideways, elbow buried. The contents of the mantle jiggled precariously.
Once more, Hound had her attention. He repeated the same gesture as earlier but more frantic. More than asking her to hurry, the first had been a warning.
Danger melted into the shadows beside the door. Directly across from it, the moon lighting the mantle, she was exposed. Her childish joy at their rush across the springy grass returned as she struggled with the phone. A monkey trap. She'd stuffed her hand right inside one. She almost giggled.
Sandaled feet clipped outside.
She could yank her arm free, but that would empty the mantle. She settled into a crouch beside the fireplace and waited.
A long shadow eclipsed the entry, sprouting from the tree. It held there. Her heart kicked inside her chest. By the door, Danger slid a knife from his boot. If he made any sound, she couldn't tell over the pounding of blood in her ears.
Surely she wasn't about to be caught. Danger would have known before the op went FUBAR, right? He would have known before now?