CHAPTER 9
Neeley slid off the examining table and put her clothes back on. Her chest ached, but she was functional. All systems normal. She was a go as far as the Cellar’s physician was concerned. She had a feeling the bar wasn’t too high; breathing seemed to be the standard.
The doctor had left her the usual assortment of pills, carefully sorted into different colored compartments in the compact case she was supposed to slip into her pocket. There was nothing subtle about it: red if she needed a jolt. Blue if she needed to come down off the red without crashing. Green for crashing when she was safe so she could rest and be ready for the next mission that needed a red.
She tried to remember the last time she’d had a green.
She didn’t like using the red because it put a ticking clock on the mission, but she also accepted most of her missions had a ticking clock to start with. Once in a while she had to go red in order to beat it.
Neeley knew who was next: the Cellar’s psychologist, Dr. Golden, and that interview was going to be a different story. Just breathing wasn’t going to clear that hurdle. Neeley slid the double-edged commando knife into her boot. It had been Gant’s and years of sharpening had shrunk the blade. Neeley knew the time was coming when she would have to replace it. But it was a connection, one she needed. She was good enough with it that snapping the blade on bone with an awkward thrust or slice hadn’t yet been an issue. She always went for the soft tissue over vital spots.
She looped the belt, with the steel wire garrote hidden on the inside, around her waist. She attached the holster to the belt and then drew her pistol, making sure there was a round in the chamber and the safety was off.
“My finger is my safety,” she whispered to herself as she looked in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. The woman looking back was pretty ragged.
“You look like shit,” she said to herself, and then frowned. Talking to herself twice in a row.
She sensed someone sliding through the door behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dr. Golden reflected in the mirror. “What do you make of people who speak to themselves, Doctor?” Neeley asked.
“It’s not quite as bad when you talk to yourself in the mirror,” Golden said. “Those people in the airport with the Bluetooth, who look like they’re talking to no one until you see the little device, they freak me out sometimes.”
Neeley turned to face her. “I call those people assholes. I don’t want to hear their end of the conversation. Sometimes I just want to start an imaginary conversation just as loud and see how they react.”
“You seem the same,” Golden said.
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“How did it feel to die?”
“Cutting to the chase, aren’t we?” Neeley didn’t wait for an answer. “Did I see a long white corridor? Did I go to the light? It went black. Total black. Nothingness. Then I was back. Sorry to ruin your expectations.”
“Why do you think I have expectations of life after death?” Golden asked.
“You seem the type,” Neeley said.
“What type is that?”
“Always asking questions,” Neeley said with a grin, and Golden smiled.
“Those white corridors or going toward the light,” Golden said, “are more likely the random firing of brain cells as they either are deprived of, or overloaded with, power. Our brains work on electricity. So they’re most likely a hallucination.”
Neeley stared at the psychiatrist, wondering how she could have known about Burns turning into Gant and then realizing she didn’t. It was just a coincidence. But Neeley didn’t really believe in coincidences.
Golden opened the door and gestured. “We’ll meet in the interview room. I’ll be down there in a little bit.” She disappeared, shutting the door behind her.
Neeley stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths. Had she really seen Gant? Had Burns’s eyes actually turned gold? Was she losing her mind?
“Fuck it.” Neeley opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor that was part of the Cellar complex.
Nada spotted the convoy coming into the community. Scout was in the lead in her father’s SUV, followed by four big black SUVs behind her.
This wasn’t going to be easy to explain to the neighbors, but that was the least of Nada’s worries at the moment. They had the garage doors open and all four black SUVs rolled in as Scout parked outside. One of the SUVs was driven by a Support person, and after unloading the gear in the back, they carefully buckled Scout’s unconscious mother and father inside for the trip back to the field.
And their sorely needed rest, according to Scout.
Nada hit the close buttons for the garage as car doors opened and the Nightstalkers were finally intact as a team, except for Eagle.
“Scout,” Nada said, making the one introduction, “this is Ivar. Ivar, Scout.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ivar said.
“The same,” Scout replied.
“Doc, check Roland out,” Moms said. “He decided to do a high dive from some high power lines.”
“Roland,” Doc said in a tone that indicated his displeasure.
“I’m fine,” Roland insisted.
“He grimaced,” Scout said. “I never saw him grimace before.”
“You never saw him hurt before,” Moms said. “I have.”
“I’m fine,” Roland repeated. He lifted up an M240 machine gun with one hand over his head and twirled it. “See? Fine.”
“Let me check anyway,” Doc said.
“He’s got a couple of busted ribs,” Mac said. “Not that anyone respects my medical expertise.”
Roland sighed and allowed Doc to take a look.
“My mom would not be happy about this at all,” Scout said happily, taking in the piles of weapons, demolitions, and assorted gear scattered about. “Lucky you knocked her out.”
“It was mission essential,” Moms began. “We—”
“It’s okay,” Scout said. “Really. I can assure you she’s had worse nights.”
Nada stood on a plastic case full of something deadly. “All right. We’re—”
And then their phones all started ringing: “Lawyers, Guns, and Money.”
“What the frak?” Kirk said.
“We’re getting Zevoned on a Zevon?” Mac wondered out loud.
“Huh?” Roland said.
“This is curious,” Kirk said as he silenced his phone.
One by one the phones went quiet and the team turned to Moms. Scout was literally bouncing up and down. “Fireflies? Killer heavy equipment? Possessed pool?”
Nada held up a hand. “Technically, the first Zevon was actually ‘I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead,’ not ‘Lawyers.’ Didn’t you get it?”
“Someone had our phones,” Eagle said.
“The Loop?” Mac said. He turned to Scout. “From you?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Scout said. “Do I get a gun?”
“Yes, from Scout,” Nada said. “No on the gun.”
Moms had her finger pressed against her ear, getting an update from Ms. Jones. Even Scout fell silent as they watched her. She nodded and then pulled her finger away. “There’s a Rift forming near here, so the ‘Sleep’ was a good call.”
“Coordinates?” Nada asked.
Moms shook her head. “Ms. Jones says the Japanese and the Russians have got it located somewhere in the Knoxville area. Our Can is without power. Going to take them a little while to get it running and get us exact coordinates.”
Doc paused, in the midst of wrapping Roland’s ribs. “Our Can is down? That is most unusual. And very suspicious timing.”
Moms held up her hand, indicating silence, and spoke into her radio. “Eagle, bring the Snake in. We’ll load up and recon the area and be ready to shut the Rift as soon as we get a fix.”