“Enzo,” she called out. “You have been summoned. The plane leaves within the hour.”
FIVE
REUNION
Our crash sparked a chain reaction of destruction and climate change that wiped out the majority of life on the planet. Less than a third of the survivors lived through Earth’s transition as the planet underwent massive seismic shifts.
For millions of years, we struggled to stay alive, flitting from one dying creature to another. Eventually, we were scattered, all semblance of organization lost. And then we lost our way as sentient beings, eventually becoming nothing more than living mist, parasites that occupied hosts by instinct.
Tao
Jill’s car screeched as it turned down a ramp into the parking garage of an abandoned warehouse. They had made the three-hour drive in two, speeding down Highway 82 to the 66 at breakneck speeds. The entire time, Roen held the door rail with a white-fisted death grip. It wasn’t because he was afraid of driving fast, it was because Jill was the one driving. Her car making noises like a dying cow when accelerating didn’t help matters much either.
She admonished him several times for passenger-side driving, scolding him whenever he reacted as if they were about to die in a fiery blaze of automobile glory. It took a while, but he finally settled down into a quiet whimper as they sped through the night. Luckily, she had government plates, or they’d surely have been pulled over by now. He certainly didn’t remember her driving like this when they were together. By dawn, they reached the outskirts of the city proper and headed south toward a run-down industrial district.
The sun was just past the ridgeline in the east. Their lack of sleep coupled with the alcohol they had both drunk was taking its toll on them. Surprisingly, the dilapidated parking garage attached to the warehouse was filled with cars. She pulled into an open space and hopped out, gesturing for him to hurry. Roen opened his door and promptly nicked the side panel of an expensive-looking Mercedes.
Come on. Really?
Roen looked at the small scratch sheepishly. “I hardly got any sleep.”
And you smell like a cask of whiskey.
Jill gave him an exasperated look. “Still oblivious. You know whose car that is, don’t you?”
Roen shook his head. “Do I want to?”
“You tell the Keeper you scratched her car when you see her.”
“The Keeper?” he gasped. “You mean, this dump is Prophus Command? I thought it was just a safe house.”
The Keeper has a few character flaws and living in comfort is one of them. I blame that on her living in pharaohs for a thousand years. Things must be much worse than we thought.
Jill nodded and walked to a door at the end of the lot. “The Genjix has made it difficult to maintain a permanent base within the United States. Most of them now are in third world countries. We still need a heavy presence in the nation’s capital though, so this is it.”
Roen scanned the garage. This place would definitely not pass the sniff test. The mixture of cars was too strange. The Keeper’s car must be over a hundred grand while the car next to hers looked like a Jeep that might have rolled off the assembly line during World War II.
He hurried after Jill. By the time he caught up with her, she was walking through a dark tunnel that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, much less belonged to the Prophus command center. There were thick layers of dust on everything. Roen pinched his nose to stop from sneezing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she had a hit out on him. That sort of uneasy feeling was common among operatives.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Immediately, he regretted asking that. Of course she was sure. Sometimes, he just couldn’t help asking. She awarded his dumb question with a hostile glare before walking into a large storage room. She tapped on a hidden panel on the far wall and a retinal scanner appeared. After authorizing herself, the wall swung open.
“Get in,” she said. “The dust sprays kick on in thirty seconds.”
“Cute,” he grumbled as he went in after her. The wall swung closed behind them and they continued down a cleaner, better-lit tunnel. “What about all the cars out there? Looks a bit obvious, no?”
“Most in that lot are registered as DEA impounds,” she explained. “This is technically a lot for cars preparing for auction.”
They walked through another set of doors and turned right, going down a long flight of stairs. Two guards met them before they reached the end, where a rusty coiling door was rolled halfway open.
“Ma’am,” one of them said, “you’re clear. This one we have to take in.”
Early twenties. Seventy-five kilograms. Chest armor only.
“Not military by the way he’s holding the gun. Trigger finger off. Not expecting to use it.”
Second target. Even younger. Overweight. Same armor. Rifle at his waist.
“What the hell? Seems anyone can join the club these days.”
Sixty degrees right, cut off line of sight on second, disarm first, use as body shield, shoot second?
“These two cubs? No need to get fancy. I might as well just Hulk-smash them.”
How droll. How about control right barrel with hand, spin kick to chest on second. I would say face, but you are not quite that limber anymore. A groin pull would be unfortunate.
“It’s the jeans; they’re too tight. I can body check one, obstruct two’s line of sight…”
Jill snapped her fingers in front of Roen’s face. “Stop mentally masturbating. I know what you two idiots are thinking.”
Roen managed to look a little crestfallen, though if anything, it was an act to get the rookies to lower their guards. This exercise was one Tao used to hone Roen’s tactics during fights. Now, it was a game between them to see who could be more creative.
She put on a stern face and glared at the two young guards. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course ma’am,” the one in the rear said.
“Good. The jerk’s with me. Let us through.”
They exchanged hesitant glances before the one in front stepped aside. Jill thanked them and continued through the entrance. Roen followed dutifully, but as he passed them, he couldn’t help himself. He gestured to the skinny cub and flicked the boy’s trigger hand with his finger.
“Look, if you’re going to point a rifle at someone less than a meter away, keep your damn finger on the trigger.” Then he rounded on the fat one in the back. “And you, who do you think you are, holding yours at your waist? Are you in a Columbian cartel? Listen Che, up here.” Roen snatched the rifle and stuck it at shoulder level. He turned away and muttered. “You two schlubs have no idea how close you were to getting killed just now.”
That will endear you to the troops.
“I’m assuming we’re here on a temporary basis, right? We’re contracting this gig.”
Nothing like contracting for free.
They passed by the coiling door and entered a large open space teeming with activity. The current Prophus command center looked like someone started unpacking and then left for lunch. Roen’s eyes followed the cable lines that snaked across the floors to the corners and down the room to another that most likely housed the data center. There were half-unpacked crates everywhere and the entire room felt very makeshift.