by Byrd, Daniel
“I was told to stop him, so presumed it was up to my discretion,” the man told her with a bit of cheer in his voice.
“Who is he…who, who are you?”
The man waved his hand at the falling dust as if to get a better look. “Well ma’am who may or may not be an enemy, I'm Zachary Jackson. That asshole is called Roman. You are?”
Lydia hesitated with an answer. Technically, she wasn't really on the list of wanted people, but she was still careful for her friends who were. “Um…”
“Hey, you don't have to say, but I will tell you that it doesn't help the case of the angry Russian here.” He thumbed to the still groggy man for emphasis.
“I’m called Wrench,” Lydia replied, frowning at her own paranoia.
Jackson raised an eyebrow at that, but still wore his grin. “Either your parents hated you, or this guy had a reason to be crazy. Look, if there's anything I've learned with all of this crap going on, it's that now isn’t the time to divide and conquer. Have a way out of here?” Lydia shook her head. “Okay, then you need to find one.”
“Jackson!”
Lydia and Jackson turned to see the younger American standing not far from them.
“Max?”
“She had someone with her over there,” he said as he thumbed back to where Aaron was. Jackson nodded and went back to his friendly interrogation of Lydia.
“Friend of yours?”
“Does he live if I say he is?”
“As long as he's not a zombie, sure,” Jackson replied.
“Then he's no friend. Shoot him if you want.”
Jackson didn't seem to take her seriously, which was probably a good thing. “So…should I ask?”
“What?”
“Lover or something?”
Lydia wished she had her gun. The guy may have saved her, but he was asking for a bullet.
“Judging from the death stare, I’d say I'm wrong. Sorry. Nice hair, though. The pink and gray looks good.”
Lydia shook her head to try and throw some of the dust off. “It's fine. Just don't kill the idiot. I don't want my effort to save his ass wasted.”
“Right.” Jackson acknowledged the Russian who had sat up and was rubbing the back of his head. “Mikhail wanted me to tell you that you're too hot-headed. Also something about calming down and stuff, but I just got excited when he said to stop you.”
“You will pay for that,” he grunted. Jackson seemed to take that as a compliment. Lydia had no idea who the hell she'd bumped into, but they honestly scared her. “Watch her.”
“Bite me,” Lydia mouthed back, giving him the finger.
“If I had not been shot in the leg earlier, you would already be dead. You were lucky.”
Lydia frowned. Of course she was only doing so well because of a handicap.
“We need to leave this area,” he continued as he massaged the back of his head. His eyes never left Lydia.
“Mikhail said he had that covered,” Jackson replied, “something about a friend nearby. I'm not sure, but then again he showed up out of nowhere in Berlin and saved my ass from those assholes, and he's gotten us out alive. Honestly, I'm not finding any reasons to scrutinize the guy’s way to handle things.”
“I am not surprised,” the Russian growled as he got to his feet. Suddenly, his hand flashed another pistol from beneath his coat that he aimed straight at Lydia. “Now, let me finish this woman off so we may get back to him.”
“Um…Jackson, right?” Lydia asked as she began to back away, eyes begging him for help.
“Put it away, Roman,” an old voice croaked from nearby. Everyone’s attention went to the silhouette of an old man leaning on a cane, observing the scene.
“Mikhail, she-”
“Roman, get the bags from the trunk,” the old guy asked politely.
Lydia didn't understand why, but the man who had been trying to kill her obeyed, albeit reluctantly. He was mouthing off a lot of words as he stamped away, but Lydia didn’t understand any of it. It wasn’t Russian at all. It almost sounded like…Latvian.
The old man approached, wearing a smile as one of his eyes scanned her up and down. The other remained fixated on the ground.
“Do you understand me?” he asked in her tongue. Lydia didn’t know why he wanted to keep the conversation secluded from the Americans, but she decided not to dig herself any deeper into the crater of a hole this city was around them.
“Yes.”
“Who are you affiliated with?”
“No one. My friend and I are just innocent victims in this.”
“Is that so?” That eye of his could see right through her.
“Yes.”
“Being in a city that is not too lenient on firearms, only you have one on you? A criminal, perhaps?”
He wasn't entirely wrong, sadly. “No. I…”
“You are independent?”
Lydia shrugged. “Sort of?”
The old man man looked her up and down once more with his one good eye. She was starting to think that the other was fake.
“Why are you here?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Lydia argued back. The old man’s smile vanished.
“I am just an old goon trying to prevent the end of the world as we know it. I am after the ones responsible, and I will not let anyone who holds that title get away with an atrocity such as this.”
The words were heavy with determination and threat. Lydia couldn’t afford to risk this guy trying to shoot her like the other. “I am not responsible. My associate and I were here on a tip to find someone who most likely did cause this disaster.”
Jackson cut in. “Can I get subtitles? I feel like I'm missing a lot of this.”
“The only thing you need to worry about is that we will be leaving soon,” Mikhail told him.
“Good, because I imagine this place will be swarming with authorities soon enough. That and the media.”
“Jackson,” Max uttered, “an entire city is gone. People are dead. This isn’t a joke…”
“Give me a minute to let the adrenaline finish wearing off,” Jackson assured the kid, “then the reality will get back to me.”
Max seemed lost to the world. Lydia didn’t blame him. After all, she had the fight for her life to take her attention away. It was all soaking back in now. The kid began to walk away. “I’ll help Roman with the bags…”
“Grab the unconscious one instead,” Mikhail ordered. The other Russian came back hauling gun bags and other pouches, and he almost dropped them all at that order.
“We’re taking them with us?” he asked, seemingly against the idea of taking what he considered the enemy with them.
“Well,” the old man began, “she either stays here and answers to whoever comes, or comes with us.”
“Why take me with you?” Lydia asked, desperate to know who this man was.
“I believe you are more than you are letting on. A tip? You were here for a reason that is tied to what is going on. I would like to know more about you, and them,” he said as he directed his cane at Jackson and the younger American.
Lydia weighed her options. Frankly, she was alone and scared without her friends around. The only other person who would share an opinion with her was still useless. These men didn't seem to want to directly kill her…minus the other Russian.
The old man checked his watch before directing his eye to her. “You have until our ride arrives.”
“I have some things I need to get from our car.”
“Weapons?” the man asked. Lydia’s mouth fell, but he just smiled. “As I said, I have a feeling you are something more than a woman with a gun. Go and get them. We will have your friend ready.” He looked out into the gray as more sunlight from dusk started to break through. “Such a tragedy. I had hoped to never see the horrors of war ever again.”
Lydia left him in his thoughts to retrieve the duffel bags from the overturned car. Over-encumbered by the weight of dozens of firearms and ammunition,
she heaved the straps up higher on her shoulders and made her way back. The helpless pleas of the innocent still carried through the air, sending shivers tearing down her spine. With the excitement over with, only the horror remained. They were supposed to just find Lewis and, at worst, kill only him. This wasn't what she expected when Aaron and her had set out.
The dust and wind threw itself at her as the roar of engines and the fluttering of rotors could be heard overhead. When she opened her eyes again, her view was much more clear than it had been over the past half-hour. A helicopter was settling down on the road amongst the rubble, and the others were approaching to load various bags, as well as Aaron’s motionless figure. Lydia sighed heavily as she reached them, though it couldn't be heard over the noise of the spinning blades above. A hand reached out of the compartment and offered to take the bags from her. It was Jackson. Reluctant though she was, she was a little happier to give up the weight. The shock on his face as he almost toppled out of the helicopter told her that he didn't expect them to be that much. She had to grin at that as she boarded, destination unknown as it began to lift off. She sat next to Aaron, who was across four seats and still out.
It wasn't until they were much higher above when she could make out the atrocity that had befallen the city. It was all gone. She couldn't make out a single building standing whole amongst the rising smoke, and didn't dare consider how many lives were still down there.
“Max, calm down!”
She looked over at the younger American. He was visibly shaking at the sight outside as Jackson yelled to be heard over the rotors. The Russian she had fought made his way over and slid the door closed. She was actually really grateful for that, but he still shot her a sneer as he went to sit back down. Now they were in their own little world.
“It's like America all over again…”
“I know, Max. I hate to tell you, but it'll get worse before it gets better.”
“At this rate, it won't get better anyway.”
Lydia could hear the emotion to his voice. She felt for the kid, but this wasn't the time to be weak.
“Where are we going, Mr. Mikhail, sir?” Jackson asked the old man. Mikhail had both hands on his cane, deep in thought still.
“A safe place I have set aside. We will discuss further action there.”
“Further action?” Lydia asked. Mikhail nodded.
“I have a lot to talk to you all about. Now, how about we rest for now, and appreciate what those below do not have.”
“Safety?” Roman guessed.
“About a thousand feet and climbing?” Jackson added. Mikhail frowned at them. Lydia concerned herself with the safety of Makoto and Alexis as she absentmindedly stroked Aaron’s hair. They had all been through a lot together, and it was looking more and more like this was going to be Tiamat Unbound all over again.
Chapter Twenty - Welcome Home
“Can you take the bag off yet?” Hamilton asked.
“No,” a gruff voice replied. It was the person who'd nearly broken his finger earlier. Ren was what Ruthven kept calling him. Granted, Hamilton may have deserved that treatment a bit.
“Then can I have some shoes? I'm afraid mine were left back in Berlin.”
“No.”
“How about a smoke?”
Ren growled. “I fucking hate you.”
Hamilton always shifted between patient and impatient, and being blind for a few hours while in a helicopter with someone that he assumed was more than willing to kill him if it wasn't for Ruthven’s word…well antsy seemed right to him.
“We’ll be touching down momentarily, doctor,” Ruthven’s voice announced. “Just a little longer. Ren, please ignore the doctor.”
Hamilton couldn't help but notice that Ruthven had been silent for quite some time. Still, he decided against bringing that up. “You guys are really lucky I don't have motion sickness.”
A very malicious voice whispered in Hamilton’s ear. “You’re really lucky that I don't have the authority to toss you from up here.”
“I'm being bullied,” Hamilton whined. There was a slight jolt as the helicopter began to change direction. Hamilton could actually feel the chopper circling, lowering. Then the nose went up a bit, before they hit something solid and the aircraft violently leveled out. There was a sliding sound, and Hamilton was ordered to his feet by Ren and marched off the aircraft. It was a tough step, and he ended up hitting the ground hard even with his arms free to stop him. The whining of the rotors never ceased, but as he was marched onward he could hear them growing distant. They began…echoing?
Where the hell are you?
The bag was violently ripped off of Hamilton's head, almost taking his glasses with them. He reached up to adjust them and got a good look at the place…as far as he could see. There were cables running down each side of the wall, with sources of light occasionally spaced out. The walls themselves were earth, and curved up towards a ceiling that was barely visible. The ground he stood upon was flattened out cement that proceeded downward. It was a tunnel.
What the hell?
“I will be taking my leave, Ren,” Ruthven spoke. “I trust you can deliver Dr. Hamilton to his destination?”
“Of course, sir,” Ren’s voice answered obediently. “I must ask, wouldn’t you rather I went with you instead? Abzu would-”
“I insist you take him,” Ruthven replied. “I trust you to not let him stray from the leash.”
Hamilton was still too busy taking in the new environment to notice the other two armed individuals flanking Ruthven before they set off down the tunnel, leaving him alone with the guy who was fortunately loyal to his orders.
“March, doctor,” Ren barked. Hamilton stopped his sightseeing and glanced back to his captor. Ren was actually fairly big. He was pretty pale, with distinguishing red hair and freckles that seemed spattered across his nose and cheeks. Still, big was the immediate part worth noting. Hamilton wasn’t very good at telling where people were from. People just fit into two categories: useful or useless.
Useless or not, no chance in hell of taking him down. Guess you’re his bitch now.
“Where's Ruthven going?” Hamilton asked.
“It doesn't matter, now march!”
Hamilton stared ahead at the lights running parallel down the passage, descending past his sight. Wherever they were, it went far under the surface it seemed.
“Fine,” Hamilton uttered in annoyance. One foot after the other, he carried on down the tunnel with Ren in tow. He kept his eyes peeled for just what lay hidden in this place. Extra tunnels had been carved into the walls every now and again. One on his left was sealed by a steel door. There were multiple mercs standing around it, all looking very spent and relieved at the same time. The nearby light was reflecting on something covering the front of one. It looked like blood, but judging from how he was still standing it probably wasn’t his. Hamilton couldn’t understand what the hell the group was talking about, but the high-fives seemed to indicate something was accomplished. Other doors were ahead on his left and right, all with two guards stationed at each. The place definitely felt like an evil lair.
“May I inquire now as to my whereabouts?” Hamilton asked.
Are you doing that to get an answer or annoy the guy? Wait, I already know.
“Quiet,” Ren warned him. “Almost there. Then we don’t have to deal with each other anymore. Sound good?”
Then began the descent. The decline of the path wasn't too steep, but it was definitely a prelude to the underworld below.
Afraid?
“No,” Hamilton muttered.
At least you’re not alone.
“Not my idea of company…”
The big guy wasn't a fan of this little man talking to himself. “Doctor, I suggest you stop giving me more reasons to request your execution, and keep on going in silence before I just drag you down there for my own sake.”
Hey, if you're forced to work with these guys then you should definitely request
him as a subject. Think it'll be allowed? Tell them he's ripe and ready for picking.
Hamilton grinned at that, but it didn't hold long as he noted that the tunnel kept going further and further down. Every now and again headlights appeared from ahead of him, and passed by on his right. Military vehicles. He wasn't an expert, but he recognized armored vehicles when he saw them. Then there were the large delivery trucks. Those were the ones that drew his attention.
“Expecting large shipments?” he asked aloud.
“We have merchandise coming in from everywhere. Hell if I know what.”
Well that’s a fucking lie.
“How much longer? I'd like to settle in and talk with your leader.”
Assuming you haven't already.
“We’re almost at the bottom level. After that we’ll head down the first path on your right. The lab is down there.”
Hamilton got a little excited. “A lab? Why didn't you say so?” He practically started skipping down the tunnel.
“Doctor, I will fucking shoot you.”
“Can you without being in trouble?!” he shouted back.
“It’s almost worth it,” he heard Ren reply with a growl.
“Just don't start a fire doing it,” Hamilton remarked, eyes wandering, “because I don't think this place is up to code. I don't see a fire extinguisher anywhere!”
“Wait for me or I’ll be sure to break your finger this time!”
Hamilton waited for the grumpy bastard to lead him down to where the tunnel leveled out and came to a stop. Up ahead was a massive steel wall that marked the end of the passage. It looked like it could open up, so Hamilton had to wonder just what was on the other side that needed that kind of secrecy. It would be too big an area for a lab. Ren shoved him with the gun and motioned for the doctor to go to the right. Ahead of them standing in the opening of another small passage was a brute of a man in the black and red armor. He wore a harness over that with all kinds of pouches and other tools attached. Hamilton noted…swords in sheaths? He was tall, wide, and something about his stance commanded respect from the others who tiptoed around him to get to their destinations. Oddly enough, he had a friendly enough face, but that wasn’t always to be trusted. His brown hair and blue eyes were complimented by his nice smile, but it didn't strike Hamilton as right on his face. He kind of seemed smug. Even his head was big, and not metaphorically.