SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON
S. F. English
SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON By
S. F. English
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SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON
S. F. English
© Copyright October 2006, S. F. English Cover art by Jesse Palon, © copyright October 2006 ISBN 1-58608-963-3 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
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Dedication I would like to dedicate this book to Jen L. Miller for her humor, her support and her love. And to Ed English, my husband, who is always an inspiration to me. I would like to thank Sara Lunsford for diligently going through this book to help me edit and improve it. And thank you to Linda Campbell for encouraging me to complete this book and submit it.
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Chapter 1 Chaos reined. Over a million people were dead. Detroit, as the world once knew it, was gone. Footage played on a television screen, which was located in Grace Sullivan’s head, behind her eyes. A slight glitch in the picture caused Grace to pull the 4-inch rod from a hole near the inside of her ear. Frowning at the new headset, she blew on the end of the metal rod, an old trick a teacher once showed her. Being unplugged from her headset was uncomfortable. Not that she was addicted to it, like most of America, but because she had ventured out into the city. Though most people in San Francisco worked inside their homes, there was still life on the streets. People moved without seeing each other because they didn’t know how to interact socially anymore. Sure, she was nervous to be out, but the thrill of it was an adventure. She had travel skills. And, she used them for personal reasons today. A funeral for someone she didn’t know. But the lure of being around a group of people, a group showing emotions and caring for their dead loved one, was too strong to ignore. Grace looked around the BART station. What was once a huge train station that carried thousands of commuters each day was now empty. The trains had been replaced by 2-person commuter pods. The need to commute replaced by a 4-inch rod that could be inserted into your head to watch television, listen to radio, go to school, order online, whatever you wanted. As she waited for the next pod to come, she inserted the rod and was plugged in. It had been ten years since the fall of Detroit. Ten years to the day. And every station she watched only wanted to highlight those horrific scenes of dead bodies and fear. A pod, across the platform, pulled up. Grace concentrated on the screen behind her eyes. She could see someone get out, but she preferred to concentrate on the television. The fall of Detroit to a bioterrorist weapon, a weapon that was still unidentified by American scientists, seemed so far away from San Francisco. Once, Detroit had been one of the grossly overpopulated cities, but not anymore. The bio-weapon had killed all living things; flora, fauna, wildlife ... people. The death toll was quickly forgotten by the nation’s leaders. Or so it seemed, by the quick government take over of the land, and the re-population of New Detroit. But the people, the American people themselves, didn’t forget. It was too frightening to watch, so she skipped around to a channel that wasn’t showing those terrible scenes. “Be in love … be in lust … be happy; Emotions in Motion can give you all you need.” The voice filled her head. “Plug in to 1-800-Emotionchip or www.emotionchip.com and you can feel your way to the top.” The voice was replaced by
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another, softer voice. “You must present your mating license to purchase love or lust chips.” The Emotion Chip was the hottest selling thing on the market, for those who could afford such luxury. In the year 2095, they couldn’t stop over-population, but using a chip to fall in love became serious business. Thomas Dane, one of the worlds most wealthy, most influential, and most talented men had designed the Emotion Chip. In Grace’s opinion that chip only caused a great rift between people and emotions, between socialization and hierarchy. If it weren’t for the fact that the man could sing so beautifully, and that he had the most beautiful brown eyes, she wouldn’t buy any of his inventions, records, or DVDs. A blast of air, cold and unmerciful, ran up her coat and she shivered. It was a sign that the pod was coming. As the wind died down, she heard footsteps coming her way. She had hoped not to have to share the pod. “Hold on!” His voice was sharp, but deep. The white pod stopped, the door opened automatically to let her inside. She really didn’t want to share the small space with a stranger. Her finger hovered over the HOLD button. Should she acknowledge the man or not? She had been taught by her teachers to say little and understand her position in life. The government trained her to be subservient, but she had always found subtle ways to rebel. She had been fighting it since she was a child. The government had taken her at the tender age of four from parents who were guilty of having a child without a mating license. They installed a hook-up and she started school--sitting in a lonely, sterile room. She was to be forced into servitude until she could pay the fines of her illegal birth. Sins of the father … She would not be ruled by a social handicap. Her finger depressed the button. It turned red. Her heart beat harder, faster, as she waited. She sought solace by concentrating on the television program. The pod shuddered and dipped as its new occupant climbed in. Her finger moved from the button as she stared out the front of the vehicle. Interest. Curiosity. She fought both inclinations as etiquette dictated. A dark figure in her peripheral vision. Even from the corner of her eye, she could see the man was large. It was too late to lock the plastic door that separated them without seeming rude. Etiquette or safety? The pod began moving forward. In moments they would be in the tunnels, in the darkness. She closed her eyes and reached up to adjust her headset. Television might be more distracting. Nine people, placed in a tic-tac-toe box, faced the talk show host as she sat in a chair, seemingly alone in the studio. “Do we genetically engineer our children so they are born with hook ups?” The talk show host waved a slim arm toward the upper right box. “How can you not?” an elderly scientific-type answered. “Technology demands it! If you want to be informed, or entertained, the only way to get that is through a headset. It just makes sense to genetically engineer a hook-up that you know will be needed, as opposed to putting a child through surgery.”
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“That’s taking away someone’s right to choose,” The young blonde at the bottom left corner interrupted. Grace knew her. Stephanie Rose, leader of the Freedom Society Movement. She was fantastic! “Parents should determine if and when a child has a hook-up installed. Right now, because the government has programs that can only be delivered through a plug-in, it’s practically mandatory, and it’s taking away basic rights. That’s my problem with it.” Grace read everything Ms. Rose wrote, from “Killing Society Through Technology” to “Genetic Altering--Technological Marvel or Ethical Debacle?” She’d even heard her speak once. It was a private talk, and you could go there physically if you knew how to travel. Grace wanted to go. She knew how to travel, but it was so far away. Courage had failed her then and she settled for the headset and a private channel. Things were different. She had so little to lose now. A thump against the plastic door startled her. Opening her eyes, she could still see the figures in the tic-tac-toe boxes, but she saw through them, to the man in the next compartment. His back was to her and there was little light in the pod. Who knew what he was doing? He wasn’t paying attention to her, so she ignored him. “Anything that will kill en masse requires covert operations. You’d have to be well-skilled in travel techniques. Anyone with travel skills will be stopped and questioned. It isn’t going to be easy.” The man on the screen wore a general’s uniform. “The threat of nuclear bombs, artificial intelligence maneuvering, or bioterrorism is going to be stopped by limiting travel skills?” The reporter wasn’t convinced. He wouldn’t be. It was Stephanie’s husband, Robert Rose. He was as daunting and unrelenting as she was. There was a glitch in her headset, or in her brain, she wasn’t sure, but the light magnified, blurred, and came back. The headache that had only threatened now bloomed in full force. If the pain in her head and the glitch in her headset were related to her illness, would the last stop be her last stop anywhere? The tumor wasn’t supposed to kill her right away. The doctors told her six months. Centuries of modern medicine and the doctors were still “practicing.” She lowered the volume on her headset and turned it to music. She recognized the soft melodic tone, bass, and sensuality. Boycotting his emotion chip didn’t keep her from appreciating his voice. The man made wonderful music, and its notes helped to relieve her aching head. The rhythm made her warm and she could imagine him singing. She concentrated on the music. Slow rhythm, a caress to the senses--something to make love to. Wrapped in the music, soothing her aching head, the influx of volume, static, then nothing, brought her eyes open in shock. There was darkness. Had she opened her eyes? Had the tumor caused her to go blind? Her lungs pulled in air for comfort, greeting the stale smell of the pod like a friend, a friend that said, you’re still alive. Her eyelids squeezed shut, opened, and blinked rapidly. Still there was only darkness. Her heart beat frantically. Confusion. Fear. She pulled off her headset, as though its removal could give her back her sight. It didn’t help. The headset swayed in her hand. She swallowed hard. Movement in the compartment next to her made her realize that the pod had stopped. Were they at the Embarcadero Street terminal? Would the man beside her think
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she had gone mad if she began to yell for his help? Her headset wasn’t working--she would have to ask him for help. Rapping on plastic startled her. He tried to open her door. Panic seized her. This was why her teachers told her not to travel if she didn’t have a need. She lacked skills. She knew enough to travel locally, but she didn’t have enough social skills to travel far. Interaction with live people was rare. You had to fear live people. “Can you hear me?” He tapped gently on the plastic and his voice was calm. “Yes.” “Is your headset working?” “Why?” She didn’t want to say too much. “Why do you think?” Sarcasm vibrated from bass tones. “Well, my headset isn’t working and there doesn’t seem to be any electricity.” She wasn’t blind. There was that to be grateful for. “My headset isn’t working.” The pod swayed as he moved about. A grunt in the darkness was followed by a soft green illumination. The limited light of his glowstick showed nothing of his features, but she could see him wave it across the window, trying to assess where they were in the tunnels. “It’s a five foot drop, nothing we can’t manage,” he said with his back to her. We? “Don’t you think we should wait for help? The electricity could come back.” He turned, but the light threw shadows on his face. “When was the last time we lost power?” Logical tone, still calm. She wasn’t blind and her tumor wasn’t killing her at the moment, but fear still crowded her mind. Power outages didn’t happen anymore. The fall of Detroit? Had war been declared? Were they under attack? “What’s your name?” He leaned toward the plastic door and his voice was louder. Could he see her? She still couldn’t see his face. “You have travel skills.” “My name is Grace Sullivan. And yes, I have travel skills.” “At least you’re not worthless.” It was said under his breath, not meant for her to hear. “What will happen now?” She couldn’t stop the panic in her voice. Be silent. Don’t let him know you fear him. “I’m going to get out and find my way to Embarcadero Street. It can’t be far. You can do whatever you wish.” The pod teetered as he pushed on the door. She didn’t want to be left in the dark. Like most people, she rarely ventured far from home. And she never ventured out in the darkness. Everyone knew there was much to fear in the dark. She didn’t believe everything she heard from her headset, but she did believe that. She felt the vehicle sway as he collected his things and prepared to leave. “Wait.” He stopped. She slid the door between them open. “Good girl,” he rewarded her with his rich, approving tone. “Take my hand.” She couldn’t see his hand.
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“Wait.” She moved her satchel from over her shoulder and placed her headset inside. He moved the light so she could see better. His hand looked green, foreign, alien. She took it. It was warm, his skin soft, and his grip strong. She gasped. A warm electric jolt passed through her at his touch. She seldom touched anyone. She had no mating license. No sex license. Did all men send such feelings with just a touch? “Are you alright?” he asked. He had heard her gasp. Had he felt the jolt? “I’m fine,” she whispered as she recovered her composure. “Just a little frightened.” What did he expect? His earlier comment about her usefulness, or more pointedly, her worth, led her to believe that he thought her simple. “Don’t be frightened.” He pulled on her hand and let it go. “I’ll help you down,” he said as he let go of her hand, and slid his up the outside of her long jacket. Large, slow hands, so warm she could feel them through the cloth. She let out another gasp as they stopped at her waist. He pulled on her and she stepped away from the pod, landing in front of him, in his arms. Her hands grabbed naturally at his shoulders. Though there wasn’t enough light to make out his features, she could feel the strength of his body, its warmth, the pounding of his heart against her chest. She could smell his cologne, musky, soft, divine. He was rich, or famous, or powerful. You wear cologne when you are around people. If you are social. If you could afford to be social. He stepped away and the cold rushed in to surround her. He picked up his things and the light. As he waved it in the direction they were to take, she caught sight of his profile. He looked familiar, but the light moved and cast him back into shadow. The large hand took hers again and they walked cautiously toward Embarcadero Street, and uncertainty. “It should be less than a mile.” His fingers threaded through hers and he pulled her along to speed their pace. A sewer was nearby. The smell of dirt and stale air hid in pockets they passed through, but the smell of the sewer was steady. He stopped suddenly and she crashed into the back of him. “Quiet,” he said. She strained to hear what had caught his attention, but heard nothing. A byproduct of advanced technology was the loss of some senses. Her hearing was not good and it took some seconds before she recognized the scuffling of footsteps coming in their direction. He pulled her to the side of the tunnel and pressed her against the wall. It was cold and wet and soaked through her jacket immediately. She wanted to protest, but he put his finger over her lips and his body covered hers. The light was between them and when he pressed into her the light went out, shrouding them in darkness. The scuffling became louder, and then there were voices. They echoed from a distance, but they were coming near. “Light another match, Barley.” The voice was gruff and slurred. Grace felt her heart beat faster. It was rumored that there were people who lived
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in the tunnels, people who had no hook-ups, no plug-ins, people who were savage. “Don’t waste them matches. They’s worth a lot on the market.” Another voice, another man. “If we find more cars we can get more to sell on the market.” “You ought not to have hit her so hard.” The second voice sounded uncaring for all the sympathetic words he’d used. Grace had never been in danger before. Urgency, fear, and the need to cry were overpowering. She wanted to run far away from those men. She did not want to be hit. Her breathing quickened as she fought back her fear. Tears stung her eyes, spilled over and ran toward her chin. They connected with his finger. His body pressed closer and his finger wiped the tears at her lips, where the errant wetness pooled. “Do you smell something, Barley?” The shuffling stopped. “The sewer’s all.” “Must be rich men up there today. Smells nice.” The silence gave way to a loud guffaw and both men began to laugh. The shuffling commenced and the two men walked no more than five feet away from where they stood. They passed, their echoing laughter giving their distance away. Grace stood motionless. He had stopped wiping tears only because she had stopped making them. They stood there for some minutes, being sure, being safe. He moved back and the light shone. It wasn’t as bright as it had been. It wouldn’t be much longer before the chemicals inside the stick no longer illuminated their way. The light came up suddenly beneath her chin. It put everything around her into darkness. He looked at her. Studied her. “You did well.” The light moved in front of him again and he took her hand. They hadn’t walked far when he stopped again. She didn’t run into him this time and immediately began to listen for sounds. He turned to their right and threw the waning light. It landed on the Embarcadero Street platform. She could hear no one. She could see no one. It was dark, but the light from outside spilled into the far corner of the terminal giving some relief to the darkness. He released her hand and she immediately wished for it back. He put his things on the platform and lifted himself onto it. His extended hand grasped hers and pulled her to him. The wetness of the jacket and the cold winds of the tunnel set her to shivering. The heat from his body was a welcome reprieve, but too short as he pulled away to walk toward the stairs. There was nothing to do but follow. The smell of the tunnel clung to her jacket. There was no escaping it. She pulled in a lungful of air as they reached the outside. It was a great deal better than the lemon antiseptic of the vehicle, or the dirt and sewer smell of the tunnels. The moon was full and half hidden by clouds. An eerie fog laid a carpet along the bare streets. He blocked the view directly in front of her and she moved to see around him. Swiftly he took her hand and pulled her down inside the fog. “What … ?” He hushed her before she could say more. Something was out there.
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He sensed it. She remained where she was and concentrated on listening. There was nothing. She was sure of it. This was crazy. She needed to get back to the safety of her home. “There’s nothing,” Grace whispered near his ear. “I don’t hear anything.” “That’s the problem. I don’t hear anything either.” Confusion. Cold. Fear. She couldn’t take much more. He pulled her along, low to the ground, back toward the terminal, back into the darkness. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back down there. She stopped and it caused him to pull sharply on her hand. It was impossible to see him through the fog, even so close as they were now. Before she could protest, a sound came out of the fog. The fog moved and grew, as though someone were kicking it about. No shuffling feet this time. Distinct, measured footsteps brought a dark figure. The man was dressed in military uniform. A zombie; a soldier. Grace had never seen anything like this before, but she knew what it was. An Artificial Intelligence Maneuvering soldier. Stephanie had accused the government of using AIM soldiers to do their dirty work. She said they did suicide missions, planting bombs and bio-weapons. No one would care, but the soldiers were made from prisoners. They were once human. Their hook-ups were altered and special plug-ins installed. Grace thought Stephanie was looking for good press with her military conspiracy tales. Fear was always a great way to get press. Why would an AIM soldier be walking around San Francisco? What could its purpose be? She wouldn’t get to know because she was pulled back into the terminal. Compared to the thing she saw outside, the terminal was not so frightening. They remained to one side until the thing moved down the street. Her rescuer stood and light from the moon streamed across his face. She recognized him. He put out his hand to her and she stared at it. Safety. Security. Warmth. There was little choice. She slipped her trembling hand into the hand of Thomas Dane.
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Chapter 2 “I’m afraid we’re about to find out about what really happened in Detroit.” Despite the calm of his voice, Grace felt cold with fear. “We need to get to my car. It’s in the parking lot at the back of the terminal.” Her gaze was caught by fog creeping in toward them. The back of the terminal meant going around the block. They would have to follow that creature. “No.” She couldn’t do it. It was too much. Nothing had prepared her for this. His finger lifted her chin. Searching eyes debated, but she wasn’t certain what he was looking for. “You can do this.” His confidence made her want to believe him. “How?” The trembling that seized her body found release in her voice. “There is no other way.” She couldn’t hide. She couldn’t remain where she was. She nodded, numb and frightened. He took her hand and led her into the fog. The air carried the cold and her breath was lost amid the white, billowy flow of the fog. If she got any lower to the ground she’d be crawling. She pulled the strap of her satchel up to keep it from dragging on the sidewalk. Running errands everyday at home didn’t keep her muscles from aching. As they turned the first corner and headed down Mission Street, her calves burned in protest to the awkward angle and strain. When Thomas stopped in front of her, all thought of aching muscles and cold air fled to be replaced by swelling fear. Her legs shook until one knee hit the cement. Her weight shifted and the cement grated into her skin through slacks and jacket. She put both hands out to steady herself. Her heart froze in her chest as her satchel shifted and fell from her shoulder with a soft thud. Thomas didn’t look back at her, but his body stiffened at the sound. A few short moments and he began to move. Instinctively, she followed. Placing the errant satchel over her shoulder and moving it behind her she ignored the protest of her legs, allowing the fear to diminish the pain. Wandering AIM soldiers on American soil, holding weapons in the darkness, looking for something, someone, caused her mind to race. These were a special type of soldier, with a purpose. What that purpose might be in San Francisco, she couldn’t guess. The fog grew thicker as they turned the last corner. The tall building and moving clouds cast everything into shadows. Movement across the street showed not one, but two AIM soldiers. She strained to hear, but they didn’t speak. They disappeared into the shadows for a moment, but the echo of footsteps grew louder. She thought Thomas would wait and let them pass, but he released her hand and moved on. She couldn’t move. The fear filled her heart as the cold air filled her lungs.
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He was gone. The sea of fog and darkness encompassed him and he was lost to her. Despite the cold air, sweat broke out on her forehead. Her lungs protested as she breathed, quick and shallow. Had Thomas Dane left her there to save himself? She remained frozen and quiet as the minutes ticked on. A loud noise, like metal falling on metal, caused the soldiers to stop. The soldiers moved in the direction of the noise, leaving Grace shaking from cold and fear. She heard a rumbling to the left, but it was too cold to move, to look in that direction. Her muscles refused to cooperate. Sleepy. Or was she preparing to faint? Trembling, cold, and confused, Grace fought it. She was supposed to die of a brain tumor. Six months they had said. She wanted her six months. Lights, like a pair of yellow eyes, low to the street, moved toward her. A low roar of an engine, tires on asphalt. She tried to stand, to move away from those lights. Six months. Not like this. The yellow lights washed over her, blinding her for a moment before Thomas Dane opened his car door and motioned her toward him. She gave a final glance in the direction the soldiers had gone and forced her legs to do her bidding. She moved around the front of the car and got in on the passenger’s side. The door shut, the car lurched forward, speeding toward Mission, then Main, then she lost track. She locked the door as if that alone could protect her. Being inside the small vehicle made her feel safe, but it was an illusion. Just like the safety in the headset is an illusion. Grace couldn’t stop shaking. The heater came on and it drew her attention back to Thomas Dane. His sidelong glance turned into a shaking of his head. “What will I do with you?” She leaned into the heating vent, her icy fingers itching as they warmed. “What’s going on?” She found the courage to speak. Her eyes focused on the heating vent, never straying to look at him. Remembering proper etiquette even at a time such as this; her teachers would have been so proud. “Those soldiers are planting bio-weapons to wipe out every living thing in the city.” His cold statement sent chills up her spine. “Why?” “Don’t they teach U.S. history in school where you come from?” he asked. He didn’t give her time to answer. “The government blamed the terrorists for Detroit and saved the rest of us from bio-weapons. And in return they got land. No survivors, but lots of land. You really believe terrorists killed all those people? With so many people in this country and so little space, it was not only necessary to make room, but it was economically advantageous.” “Are you saying that our own government was involved?” She wanted him to be wrong. “Do you really think a country other than ours could come up with a bio-weapon that only killed living beings but left the land usable? The air safe after less than 48 hours? If terrorists wanted to hurt us they would harm our resources, not help our overpopulation problem.”
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“How can you know that?” Silence drew her gaze to him, but his stare was reflective and thoughtful. “My sister knew they planned to kill her here in San Francisco. I don’t think she imagined it would be like this.” “Your sister?” “Stephanie Rose.” There was some surprise, but not a real shock. There had been links between Rose and Dane, but both parties refuted the stories that they were related. And, finding any information on Thomas Dane’s past was next to impossible. His mystery was part of what made him sexy. She’d always thought it was just a gimmick. The car picked up speed as they spoke. Her head ached again. Her mind wanted to reject what he said, but she believed in what Stephanie said. AIM soldiers were dangerous government tools. The fog began to lift and they passed a sign along the road. “Where are you going? We have to do something.” She couldn’t believe he would leave his sister in the city, knowing those AIM soldiers were going to murder everyone. Despite the heat of the car, everything inside her was cold. She hadn’t the skills to travel far. They taught her just enough in school to know how to use the train. She couldn’t drive--or fly. Access to maps was forbidden for indentured servants and the like. She only knew the train sites and those buildings nearest the stops. Glancing at him, she wasn’t sure what else to say. She had never had social training. She was a domestic servant for the owner of a computer company. She could fetch and carry, but she’d never been taught how to initiate a conversation with people of higher rank. She only knew enough etiquette as was dictated by her position in life. How could she help? She was startled by the chirping of a phone. Thomas reached down between them and pulled a phone out from a hidden console. She’d never seen a phone anywhere but on television. And then, according to the movies she’d watched, only the government, villains and those with secrets owned them. Most people just used their normal headset. If the phone worked, then perhaps her headset worked, as well? But, the cold kept her still and the fear kept her quiet. Thomas pulled the four-inch metal rod from the phone and inserted it into the small hole just inside his ear. She wasn’t sure if he could see images using that thing. Back when phones were still widely used they hadn’t fully integrated the visual aspect of the new technology. But the doctors, scientists and government put their collective heads together and soon anything audio and visual was delivered through a headset. The phone became obsolete, much like televisions, radios, and computer screens. The government gave contracts to the doctors to install the receivers and to the scientists to keep upgrading the technology. Soon, all government programs, including schools and training were done through a headset. A lonely, sterile, yet cost-efficient way to interact. The mouthpiece fell naturally into place once he had plugged in. “Stephanie?” She could hear a frantic female voice on the other end, but to her it was whispered
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panic and half-heard words. He listened quietly. He unhooked and put the phone down. Her heart beat rapidly and she watched him. His thoughts and his attention were elsewhere. “Stephanie is still in the city. She and Robert have killed one of the AIM soldiers. He had one of the devices they’re using to spread the bio-chemicals.” A determined set to his jaw flexed the muscles there. “It’s on a timer. We have twelve hours.” He stared straight ahead. A flash of light, the first Grace has seen since they started out of the city, caught her eye. It was there and gone. Something up ahead was waiting. Whether it was to help them or stop them, she wasn’t sure. The car stopped suddenly. She could see the water. Were they on the Golden Gate? She’d never seen it up close. She couldn’t see it now, but she could see beyond it to the bay. There were lights in the city, flickering candles, but no electricity. “That’s not the cavalry,” he said, looking in the direction of the light Grace had seen. “If I find the central command center for AIM, I can shut down the devices.” He wasn’t speaking to her. She was comforted by the fact that he, too, spoke to himself. His life was affected by the de-socialization of mankind. He should have to feel its effects. He’d helped to further the division of man and humanity. “We need to get weapons and then head over to get Stephanie at the Hyatt.” His meaning was clear. They had twelve hours to save the people in San Francisco and they were going back. Conditioning told her not to get involved. Not to care. But, conditioning hadn’t always guided Grace. “Is there somewhere I can take you?” He asked as the car pulled back into the lane, this time going toward the city. “No.” Thomas hadn’t expected there would be. She was a worker, a servant, her home no more a home than his car. She had enough travel skills to shop, to run errands, no more. Going back there now would be madness. Those people would send her into the night to do their bidding, into the fog. They would never venture out themselves. Then she would be alone. At least now, she had help. Grace wondered why a man like Thomas Dane would be willing to help her. She had thought he would be uncaring, unmoved, unless money were involved. When she looked at him, she found those beautiful brown eyes studying her. She couldn’t will herself to look away. His gaze, intense and thoughtful, softened and then looked quickly back to the road. The fog was building, but it wasn’t bay fog. Something about this fog was frightening. Within it were zombies, dressed as soldiers, the marching dead who took insane orders from uncaring gods. They were hiding in the fog. “The fog …” Too much cluttered her mind. She was overwhelmed. **** Thomas Dane looked out over the bay to the city. Flickering lights marked the homes of the well-prepared. Or the paranoid. How many people were huddled in the
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corner of their room trying to make their headsets work? Some of them were unable to function without the technology plugged into their brain, and without someone speaking to them through a 4-inch rod. How many would die because they had no travel skills? Because they didn’t know how to interact live? There was a lot more to worry about than the fog. But not for long. The fog would grow until it hid the soldiers, making them hard to see, and even harder to kill. He looked at the woman in his car. She knew how to move about outside. She even knew how to hold the BART pod for him. She was able to speak to him, although she continually looked away, as those of her class were taught to do. “I know,” he said at last. He was as interested in her as he was the growing fog. What would he do with her? Would Stephanie keep her? He felt responsible for her. Why? Because she had fought the conditioned impulse to let the pod go without him? In a world so devoid of courage amongst the sheep, this little lamb had surprised him. “Are you warm enough?” He watched her small figure tremble. Fear or cold? “I’ll never be warm again.” Her unguarded words tugged at something inside him and he wanted to take her hand again. “You’re going to be alright. I promise.” Why had he said that? Not that he’d meant to lie, but it was an empty promise. “I hope you’re right, Mr. Dane … for all of our sakes.” She knew him. Or of him. Who didn’t? If you owned a headset you knew of Thomas Dane. You either loved him or despised him. There was no in-between. “Dane--just Dane. And your name?” It was taught to all grade school children that you never spoke to strangers, not live. You never spoke to them and you most certainly did not give out your name. But she was no longer a child. And she certainly no longer believed in what her teachers told her. Still, years of social etiquette were branded on her character. “Grace Sullivan,” she whispered. An audible click sounded as she swallowed hard and spoke again, with more authority. “My name is Grace.” Her voice ceased to tremble, but her hands remained near the heating vent. “Grace.” Thomas let the name roll off his tongue as though experimenting with a foreign language. “You’re going to have to stay with me until we get to Stephanie. Once we’re there, I’m sure Stephanie will have a plan. We’ll send you with them.” She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Dane drove the narrow streets through the uncommon darkness toward his first destination. The Presidio Apartments, where Stephanie had a safe-house when she was in San Francisco, a place that would offer some measure of security. Not because they would be inside, but because there was an arsenal there.
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Chapter 3 “Physical laborers,” Dane pointed to the looters going in and out of the Presidio apartments. Grace watched as the familiarly dressed workers pushed on unlocked electronic doors to get inside. Some were coming out, arms filled with stolen goods. “What will we do?” She watched the workers ran into each other in their rush to run away. They didn’t speak to one another, but she didn’t think they would. They could travel, but they had little social skills. Less than she did. She worked for a large company and waited on important people. These were typical construction workers, street cleaners, and road workers. “They won’t stop us,” Dane slowed the car. Parking right in front wasn’t an option. He drove slowly around to the side of the building and parked among a bunch of cars that had already been vandalized. “Stay close to me.” “What if someone takes the car?” Her eyes were large as she stepped out of the vehicle and looked across to him. “What do you suggest?” Sarcasm. She shook her head and looked away. Did she expect him to be any different? “Grace?” His tone had changed. Unfamiliar. Soft. “I’m sorry. I know you’re frightened. Let’s just do this one step at a time. Let’s get in that apartment and hope no one has taken all of the weapons yet.” She moved around the back of the car to stand next to him. He was tall, authoritative, and masculine. Caution was all she had ever felt when around a man. To be comfortable when he was near was something unexpected for her. She followed him as he made his way to the front doors of the building. No one looked at them. No one spoke to them. Dane walked in like he owned the place and she followed him up the stairs. The door to the apartment was ajar, but no one appeared to be inside. Someone had come in and turned the place upside down, but only in the living room. Someone would be back to gather more loot. A sense of urgency to complete their task filled her. “We need to barricade the door. The locks are all electronic.” Dane scooted a heavy bookshelf across the floor toward the door. He put it securely in front of the door and began moving other heavy items in front of it. Grace looked around the room. There was little she could move. She was too small. But she wanted desperately to help. She wanted to be useful, worthy. She picked up dining room chairs and began putting them in front of the barricade Dane had created. Dane said nothing. All of the large furniture was in place in front of the door. She could feel his gaze moving over her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, intense, as though it had its own energy. “We need light.” Dane disappeared into another room. The strange energy ebbed and was gone.
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“My sister loves candles. She and Robert have them everywhere.” Dane stopped as he realized that he had shared private information about his sister. He admired Robert and loved him like a brother. And Stephanie was all the family he had left. Nothing would stop him from getting to her. “They smell nice,” Grace offered in response. He sat them on the dining room table that he had dragged in to help barricade the front door. She watched his every move. Thomas Dane had become important to her. She needed him. And, she hated that. For once she wanted to take care of herself. “You don’t smell so nice.” Dane offered a slight smile. “You’ve got some sludge from the tunnels on your jacket. And some of those AIM soldiers have heightened senses.” He looked at her from head to toe. “Let’s get you into some clean, dry clothes. Don’t use anything with a strong scent.” His gaze moved back up and he looked into her eyes. “I’d guess you’re about my sister’s size.” Dane picked up a candle and motioned for her to follow him into the bedroom. It wasn’t proper etiquette to follow him, but it was never mentioned in proper etiquette what to do in case AIM soldiers killed everyone in San Francisco. She’d have to wing it on this one. She moved, quiet and slow, into the bedroom where Dane was going through his sister’s closet. He pulled out a thick sweater and threw it on the bed. “Wear that. I’m sure it’ll fit. You may be just a little smaller than Stephanie, but that sweater will keep you warm.” He pulled out a pair of jeans and threw them next to the sweater. “If you need a belt I’m sure I can find one.” As he rifled through a drawer Grace picked up the sweater. It was woolen and thick with a turtleneck. A small woman’s t-shirt followed, then jeans. “I’ll need socks and underwear. I’ll wear my own bra,” she told him. As she said it his eyes moved over her breasts. He nodded. “There are washcloths in the bathroom. Make it quick.” Grace looked toward the bathroom where a candle light flickered. He must have left it when he first collected the candles. She walked in, pushing the door closed behind her. She quickly removed her clothes and wet the washcloth she found hanging on a rack. “There won’t be any hot water ...” Dane stopped before he’d come all the way into the room. She hadn’t locked the door, hadn’t even closed it all the way. Grabbing a towel to cover herself, she didn’t know what to say. Embarrassment burned in her. She was too afraid to look directly at him. But, when he didn’t speak and didn’t leave, she was forced to look at him. She watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Her gaze moved slowly up to his face. His jaw muscles moved as he clenched his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. His voice seemed lower, with bass tones meant for seductive music. “I thought you were waiting on these.” He handed her socks and underwear. As she took them, their fingers slid across each other, sending that jolt of energy back down her spine. Dane felt it too. An unexpected shock of something he couldn’t quite name. What was it about her? He let his gaze rake over her body. She was small, curvy, pale,
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beautiful. Short, golden hair framed her face. Her eyes reflected innocence. She stood there with obvious embarrassment, sexy as hell. And he was certain his eyes reflected something more primal. She was damn distracting and this wasn’t the time for it. “You’ve got to hurry it up,” he snapped, and took a step back. “I have enough to worry about. I don’t need you holding us back.” Grace looked at him, confused now. She was doing exactly what he told her to do. With such a lack of social skills and the incredible circumstances, she thought it best to follow his every order. Now, he was mad. She did what she was told and he was mad. If she was unable to follow simple instructions correctly, he would leave her. She would be of no use to him. Unworthy. “I’m going to get the weapons.” And he was gone. Grace ran the washcloth across her body along the same path as Dane’s gaze. No one had ever looked at her like that. Why did it have to be Thomas Dane? Why did he have to be the one to save her? Why did he have to be the one man who sent hot waves of electric energy down her spine? Energy that nestled warmly between her legs and left her wanting. And why hadn’t she known that Stephanie Rose was his sister? Because the gossip had originated in Hollywood, so she dismissed it outright. She forced her thoughts away from Dane. Away from his strong, warm hands and his full mouth. Survival was what was important. The process of accepting death had already started running its course. Every minute was precious, but to what end if you did nothing with those moments? Knowing you would die somehow made you more aware of life and of what you did, or didn’t, do. A sound, like moving furniture, came from somewhere within the apartment. Dane’s voice called out, “I’ve got the weapons. We can get out of ... ” and then his voice stopped. She opened the door from the bathroom to the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen. She tried to listen, but heard nothing, not even footsteps. She quietly got dressed and searched Stephanie’s closet until she found a short, white leather jacket and put it on. Black could hide you in the night, but white hid you in the fog. Walking out into the living room, Grace saw Dane listening at the door, and that’s when she heard it. The sound of metal jostling as the doorknob was turned, the sound of someone pushing on the door with their body. Grace moved closer to Dane. “I can use a gun,” she whispered to him. “A real gun?” “I’ve been trained with a simulation program.” Resentment gave her courage. How was she going to get out and use a real gun? Her employers had insisted she learn how because she helped take care of important people and important papers. They hadn’t given her a real gun yet, but she was almost through with the program and she would have had a real gun. A wrinkle creased his brow and she could only wonder at his thoughts. At this point, he would need her to be able to take care of herself. What if something happened to him? Simulation or not, she could most likely use a real gun. He gave her a quick nod and pulled out a 9mm pistol. He checked it, made sure the safety was on, and handed it
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to her. She took it, checked it again, and put it down the front of her pants. His gaze remained on her for a few more moments, but when the noise stopped, it drew his attention back to the door. “If we shoot, the AIM soldiers will come to investigate.” Shooting would be a last option. They didn’t need attention from the military. “I’m going to check the kitchen and see if there’s any bottled water, maybe some food.” She was determined to be useful. If she died here, fighting some great evil, at least it would matter. Her life would matter. But the tight feeling in her stomach told her that her determination wasn’t as concrete as she would’ve liked to believe. Whoever was trying to get in had moved on. They needed to finish up, find Stephanie, and get the hell out of here. Live to die another day. Grace found the kitchen untouched. She set a candle down and started putting food in her satchel. This was something she could do, something important. This didn’t require social skills. She gathered food they could take with them. There was no telling how long this would last and they would need their energy. She wondered about Thomas Dane. How could someone so bent on de-socialization by promoting the headsets, so bent on faking emotions, be so kind and caring? How could he be so brave and handsome and wonderful? Grace’s hands stopped in mid-motion. What was she thinking? What had Dane done to her? Had he hypnotized her with his sultry voice? She did not want anything to do with Thomas Dane other than what was necessary to survive this crisis. The whoosh of the kitchen door brought her around to face the object of her confusion. Dane wondered at the woman in front of him. She looked perfectly at home, packing food and water for them in the kitchen. For the first time, he saw her determination. She knew what to do here. “You look more at home with this.” he said. “Guns aren’t you, Grace.” “What do you know about me?” He had no right to judge her. No right to stereotype her kind to nothing more than servants. She was more than that! “We all have our strengths. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. He studied her eyes, her posture. No doubt she was terrified by what was happening outside, but it hadn’t paralyzed her. Good. “You’re beautiful, you know.” His gaze moved from her face to her gun and back. “My headset doesn’t take the emotion chip.” She struggled for the appropriate words. There were none. At least, none she could think of. Rejection was her only weapon. “I think your technology is the cause of all of this. No one cares unless they are told to care. No one questions because it might upset the delicate balance of things. All of these people are going to die because they’ve been told that they need to be rich or famous or special to have travel skills. You’re standing there judging me, wondering if I’m of any use to you, but you should be judging yourself! What makes you so great that you can escape this, while others,” her voice hitched just a little when she drew in a deep breath, “others like me, may be left here to die at the hands of these monsters?” She felt the warmth of his body before she even realized he’d moved. Standing so
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close, she was forced to look up into his red, angry face. She didn’t back away. She’d spent so much of her wasted life backing away when challenged, but not this time. What was there to lose now? “Regardless of what you think of me,” a small tremor moved across his right lower jaw line, “I would never leave a defenseless woman alone. Gun or no gun, you’re no match for what’s out there.” “And you are?” “More than you know,” he offered. “Because you’re not much more human than those things out there!” She took in large gulps of air as though she might drown in the emotions he stirred in her. He grew still and thoughtful. Something passed over his face so quickly she could hardly say what it was. Perhaps sorrow? Perhaps pain? She wasn’t sure, but he stamped it out before she could identify it. But, that one moment, that one look, caused her to reflect. She couldn’t punish him by hurting him. She didn’t have that kind of power. And hurting him, hurting anyone, was never something she would do willingly. “I’m sorry, Dane.” His gaze was still hot, but the fury that had lived there just seconds before was gone. The hard line from his pursed lips conflicted with the emotion that now lived in his eyes. Her heart broke for him, but she wasn’t sure why. She had gone too far and had hurt another human being, someone who was trying to help her. She didn’t think it was her words that put that look of pain and sadness in his eyes, but now she knew it lived there and something made her want to comfort him. Neither her anger nor her pity would get her anywhere. What was she thinking? She needed him, whether she liked it or not. For the first time she realized that without him she might die before her six months were up. A touch of fear reached into her heart. “You won’t leave me, will you?” “Grace--” A loud crash at the door stopped him. “Damn!” Grace picked up the satchel and followed Dane. The looters hadn’t found them, but an AIM soldier had, and shots rang out in the quiet of the cold apartment.
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Chapter 4 The soldier’s upper body crashed through the makeshift barricade, tipping the bookshelf over the things stacked in front of it. One large arm with metal fingers emerged, holding a gun, taking aim. Dane’s shot hit the soldier in the wrist, knocking the gun from its hand. It began speaking, an eerie metallic echo, into its modified headgear. “0 -- 7 -- 13 Alpha Omega Alpha region,” its voice frightened her. Its message frightened her. “Weapons …” It scanned the area to report what it was seeing. Blood rushed from the injured wrist, but it did not withdraw its arm. Dane holstered the gun, picked up his backpack, and grabbed Grace’s arm. The fire escape was through the window in the bedroom. Dane threw open the window and led the way to the streets below. There were people running now, frightened, dropping their loot, hoping to escape with their lives. AIM soldiers with silencers on their guns were silently taking them out. Fish in a barrel. The fog had risen and hit Grace at her knees. Dane pulled her down inside the fog. “We have to get to the Hyatt apartments. Stephanie and Robert will be waiting there with back-up.” Dane squinted through the fog. His gaze swept the area. “There’s no way we’ll make it back to my car. We’re going to have to make a run for it.” Bile climbed up in her throat. Her gaze followed his, seeing the zombie soldiers, seeing the death. Hadn’t she been on her way to a funeral? She’d seen dead people, but not dying people. As her mind registered what was happening around her, numbness settled in. Dead people make you reflect on immortality. Dying people make you reflect on humanity. One you accept and get over. The other haunts you all the days of your life. A soft whimper escaped her. Dane spoke, but the words were muffled and indistinguishable. Something inside her turned off. A switch that said, “I am human” shouted out. The light dimmed behind her eyes, deep inside her soul. Warm hands steadied her, then shook her and steadied her again. “Grace! The soldiers are looking for us now. We need to get out of the area. Grace! Look at me.” Her dark blue eyes settled on him, trying to focus. She blinked. Again. His face swam in front of her, handsome, with his chocolate-colored eyes and strong jaw. Those dark eyes looked into her soul as she drowned in terror and disbelief. Locked to his gaze, her heart stirred. There was panic there, but she couldn’t recall the reason for it. Why was she afraid? Her heart beat faster as she searched her memory. “I’m going to die,” she said in a whisper. Six months. “I’m going to die and no one will care.”
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“You are not going to die!” Dane took her hand and began walking backward. She moved with him, stiff and unseeing. “I won’t let you die. I promise.” He lied. A promise, you know, that you can’t keep is a lie. He could try to save her, try to keep her alive, but he really couldn’t promise. But he had. A man’s word, a man’s honor, a man’s promise. They kept moving away from the apartment building. Away from soldiers killing the unwary, the slow, the terrified. “I have no one to mourn me,” she continued, “no family left. No lover.” She could see him more clearly now. His face came into focus, still holding those penetrating eyes full of pity. Warmth stole over her as she realized that someone cared. Even if only for a brief moment, her feelings, her life, made someone feel something for her. Some part of her wanted to reach out and hold him to her as though it would personify the memory of his sadness for her. “I have no one.” “You have me,” Dane said. He stopped, his gaze darting in the shadows, looking for danger that was, most likely, following them. His concern was etched along his jaw as it clenched and unclenched over and over. It was in his eyes. They were willing her not to give up. She felt his desire for her to try to hold on. When he could easily save himself, he waited for her, and it shook the cold from her soul. Her hand reached out, bold and brazen for one of her class. Her fingertip caressed his clenched jaw. It unclenched. He would never understand. She wouldn’t know him long enough for him to understand that in that moment, he made her want to live for reasons she’d never considered before, to hold on and fight for one more chance to feel cared for, by anyone. The briefest memory of her cold, sterile upbringing tried to cut away at her new feelings. Her mind flashed on the thought of a lonely room, filled with only a headset, a bed, and a table with only one chair. Her parents hadn’t had a mating license and the state had taken her away. She was loved by no one. She mattered to no one. “We have to keep moving, Grace,” he lowered his voice and it vibrated like a caress down her spine. “You’re going to be okay.” Sounds came in loud and sharp as her mind swam to the surface of consciousness. She would never be ‘okay.’ Not ever again. Perhaps she never had been ‘okay’ in her lifetime. She shoved the memories of the dying men, the AIM soldiers, and the bio-weapons deep into the recesses of her mind. Those things didn’t matter now. Neither did sterile rooms and lonely beds. She was dying, and what mattered was making a difference in a world that hated change, hated difference. What mattered was holding on long enough, fighting long enough, to make someone see that she cared even though no one cared for her. And she didn’t need a chip to make her feel that way. For every life that she could help save would be one life that would care for her. One life that would go on when she could not, and she would be remembered for it. Those people who died had no idea that today was their day. She knew. No matter what she did, she was dead. There was strength in that knowledge if she allowed it. Acceptance of her fate slipped into her soul and found a woman there it did not recognize. This woman was a fighter. She couldn’t beat death for herself, but, perhaps, she could deny him the deaths of millions in the city.
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She pulled her hand from the warmth of Dane’s. His curious stare looked for some sign of what was going on inside of her. No one would ever know. She nodded at his questioning gaze and he turned to run, ducking down in the growing fog. She kept up with him. Her body would fail soon, but not now. Now, it was running as fast as he was and in a very uncomfortable position. They headed toward the sea, toward Lombard St., Van Ness, and Broadway. Dane knew exactly where he was going and how he would get there. She only had to follow. Two miles without any confrontations and her side began to ache. Her legs protested loudly over their awkward position. Cold lived inside the creeping fog. Dane’s glowstick s and the occasional light of the full moon as the shadows moved across it had gotten them this far, but the noises out in the white mist warned of others coming near. Maybe AIM soldiers. Maybe looters. Maybe she was losing her mind. They neared the Broadway tunnel. After the tunnel, it would be right on Embarcadero and left to the Hyatt. So close. Only the long, black, gaping mouth of the tunnel stood between them and safety.
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Chapter 5 Dane slowed as he took in the dangers of the darkened tunnel. Standing at the black opening, he couldn’t see inside. The tunnel was a mile long. And no, there’s no light at the end of it. Grace didn’t want to go inside. Something was in there, waiting for them. She could feel it. It was watching them. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. “Something’s in there, Dane,” she whispered. His gaze remained on the darkness inside. “I feel it, too,” he said as he turned his attention to her. “It could be looters. It could be people hiding.” “It could be one of those zombies.” She took an involuntary step back. The thought of going inside was too much to bear. Her legs hurt. If she needed to run, she might not make it. Her hearing wasn’t as good as Dane’s, her sight not as sharp. As a thousand reasons ran through her brain as to why this was a bad idea, she knew she would follow him in if he went. “Tired?” he asked. “Very. My legs are killing me.” As though to make her point, she reached down and rubbed them vigorously. “We passed a few stores along the way. We can take a break, but let’s get inside.” Dane searched the area quickly, walking in the opposite direction of the tunnel. That was good enough for Grace. Opposite the tunnel was a great direction to go, as far as she was concerned. They entered a store only a block away from the tunnel. The place specialized in repairing headsets. No electricity made it easy to get inside. Dane took out some candles from his pack. “Light these while I cover the front window.” He handed her the candles and some matches as he set out to cover the window, hiding the light from passersby. Dane scrambled to patch together a makeshift blind, so no one could see them inside. Dane took a candle to finish his work by. The store lit up, showing Dane’s great duct tape job with the store’s finer poster boards. Dane’s head was tipped to the side as he read a homemade sign that advertised an Emotion Chip better than his own. His candle followed the fine print as he read, although the light of the candle was almost enough to read by even that far away. “Can you believe that?” He stood straight and motioned toward the sign as though Grace should be incensed. “They’re ripping me off!” “What do you expect?” Grace found it hard to be sympathetic. “Are you complaining because they stole your idea … or your money?” Her voice mimicked his earlier sarcasm and caused his gaze to fix on her. The Emotion Chip was a sore subject.
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“What do you have against the chip?” Dane demanded. His slow gait toward her spoke volumes. His scowl of disapproval caused her heart to race as he neared her. Grace knew this wasn’t a good idea. Fighting was never a good idea. She had been taught never to argue with her betters. But, that was before the world turned upside down. That was before there was nothing to lose. “That chip is the final fall of humanity,” she said calmly, her chin upturned so she could look at his as he stood before her. “That chip is all that holds humanity in place,” Dane argued. “We take children and surgically insert a hook up so four inches of steel can tell them what to think and how to vote. Now,” she strained her neck to make eye contact, “it can tell them how to feel, as well. And for people who do fall in love, we punish them if they procreate without a license instead of celebrate the miracle of creation. It’s all about control. The government thinks they know what’s best, but they have no compassion, no mercy.” Her thoughts flashed to the last time she saw her mother. The begging her mother did to keep her and the cold merciless gaze of the agent who took her away was burned into her memory. “Men and women stay in their homes,” Dane’s voice called her back to the present, “afraid to talk to one another, needing lessons before they earn the right to make love, because it doesn’t come naturally anymore. Most people spend less than one year of their life outside their home. Did you know that?” Dane’s gaze became heated, impassioned. “They seldom touch or are touched. How can we expect them to feel?” “So you create synthetic feelings to match synthetic lives?” She asked. “You have no idea how wrong you are about people. People do find love naturally, and then people like the government step in and try to regulate it. Or, people like you try to distort it.” “No, Grace, you’re wrong. There are people who go their entire lives without feeling love. Who wants to live like that?” “Who wants to know what love is, just to unhook and find out it isn’t real at all? That it can’t actually be attained?” Grace felt the heat rising in her cheeks, her blood pounding in her veins. “I’d rather not know what it feels like if I can’t have it all the time.” “But, Grace, that’s the beauty of it. You can have it all the time if you can hook into it. For some people there is no other way.” Dane’s tone grew softer. “People learn to love. Look at Stephanie and Robert. Do they need that damned chip?” She felt triumphant, but it was short-lived. His face had fallen, turned dark and brooding. “No. Stephanie and Robert don’t need the chip. Stephanie is younger than I am. Our parents had learned their lesson with me. They let the government experiment on me. I was genetically engineered to take the plug in. But it didn’t quite work the way they planned. There were …, ” he searched for the right words, “complications.” Words escaped her. The heat of her anger held in check as she processed his words and their meaning. “Complications?” she managed. “I can’t have children,” he shared. His eyes told her more than his words did. He
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wanted children. “And, I can’t feel love.” He stepped away, away from his declaration, away from her pity. Her eyes weren’t brown like his sister’s, but they held that same look of sorrow for him and he hated it. “I’m …. ” Grace didn’t know what to say. “Don’t be.” His words were daggers. “I’m not the only one out there who can’t feel love, Grace.” His gaze raked over her body. “Have you felt love? You don’t even have a mating license. What do you know about love?” “Not much, I admit,” she said, “But I know what it’s like to care about someone, to appreciate something. I know that I want to love someone. I want to be loved by someone.” “Did you know your parents?” His question was meant to hurt. It worked. “Yes. For a short time. But,” she struggled with how much she should say, “I was an illegal-procreate. I was taken from my parents when I was young and sold as a servant to pay the fines.” She rushed on so that he’d not see her pain at the memory. “But my employers are kind. I appreciate my job. I’ve met interesting people.” Many of her class were given specifically for service to the government or associated corporations. There were no orphanages anymore, not for over a hundred years. You were educated, trained, and put into service like the indentured slaves of the 19th century. The pay was little, but eventually you would repay the government fines and strike out on your own. Not that people ventured far if they left their employer at all. She watched him study her. Compassion, perhaps even mercy lived in that look. His tone softened more. “So you appreciate things. You find people interesting. What does that do for you, Grace?” “It tells me that I have the ability to love. I can feel. If you’re generous and can appreciate people, you can love.” She felt desperate at his words. Dane’s gaze dropped. His shoulders dropped and he stepped away. “Then you’re lucky. If you’re right. And, one day, you’ll find someone to love and, if that person loves you back, if he appreciates you, if he likes you, if the stars are all in alignment with the universe,” he had become sarcastic again, “you’ll find love. Bully for you.” He turned, straightened his shoulders and pinned her with his dark gaze. “You’ll be in the minority. And while you’re enjoying the fact that you can feel love millions of other people won’t be. Would you deny them such a treasure, such an incredible feeling, because they aren’t physically able to feel love on their own?” Was he talking about himself? Were there so many others out there who couldn’t feel love? Would the Emotion Chip be their only solace if they were emotionally handicapped? Something wasn’t quite right with what he was saying. Something didn’t fit. “You love your sister!” Her eyes lit up at her realization. “It isn’t the same. You know that.” The problem was, she didn’t know. She didn’t have a sister. If you can love in one way, can’t you love in all ways? “But, surely you have the capacity to love if you can love one person.”
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“Romantic love is different, Grace.” He should’ve known she wouldn’t understand. “It’s different than loving a friend or family member. It’s different from lust.” “If you can’t feel it how do you know it feels differently?” Logic and reason were always her strong suit. “I see Stephanie and Robert together. I hear them making love sometimes. I hear what they say to one another. I can’t feel that. Not without the chip.” The discussion needed to end. He didn’t need to win her over to his side. He didn’t have a side. He did what he needed to do and he answered to no one. “How is it different than lust?” Grace was intrigued. “Why don’t you get a mating license and find out?” “I don’t have time. It takes six months to get a mating license. I don’t have six months.” “Six months is nothing. You’re young. It just feels like a long time. In six months, you’ll find someone on the mating list and, in no time, you’ll know the difference between lust and love.” The words were almost monotone, as though he felt the need to hide something. What? Why should it matter to him who she had sex with? “I’ll never know. I’ll be dead in six months.” Her tone was as flat as his. She’d never spoke the words out loud. Not even to the doctors. She’d been told. She’d been released to die. There was little pain, occasional headaches, numbness sometimes, but little pain. “Dead?” He didn’t know what to say. There were so few things that killed people anymore, other than old age. His life expectancy was well over 110, hers would be more. “How?” “Brain tumor. Too deep to remove. Located somewhere that medication would only make things worse. No therapy will work.” She imagined, sometimes, telling her employer this, letting her employer know they would need to replace her soon. She’d need to start training someone right away to take over. In her imagination, her employer would be sad to have her gone. They’d throw her a going away party, perhaps. They would all come to her funeral together and say wonderful things about her work. “I don’t know what to say.” He was speechless. His problem could be fixed with modern technology, but hers was permanent. A pain started in the center of his chest and radiated out to his fingertips. Was he ill? Was this a by-product of pity? It was painful and he rubbed absently at his chest. “There’s nothing to say.” She changed her mind. “Will you go to my funeral?” “Funeral?” This wasn’t going well. He wasn’t going to accept this. “That’s where I was going when we met on the conveyance. A funeral. I go to listen to what they say about those who have passed on. Sometimes people cry. Sometimes they say beautiful things about the person they loved. I want someone to say that about me. When I die. Something wonderful about my work … about me.” That slow pain grew in urgency. Dane rubbed his hands together, as though he could dispel it that way. It didn’t work. The heat of it caused his eyes to water and he had to blink hard to stop … tears. He’d never cried before. Not in happiness. Not in
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sadness. Not in frustration. What was she doing to cause such a strong physical response? “What else do you want?” Dane needed to change the subject away from funerals. He’d never attended a funeral in his life. Funerals were morbid, not beautiful. “Love.” Simple. Honest. Sad. “Then why not use my headset? Use my Emotion Chip. I have it with me.” This was something he could offer her. The pain in his chest began to give way to feelings of hope and strength. He walked to his pack and began digging around inside. “No.” One word. It floated to him on cold air and penetrated his heart. “Why not?” “Not like that. Not something … synthetic.” Would she change her mind in five months? Four? “It’s an answer.” “It’s your answer, Dane. It works for you, and I can see that it has its uses. Besides, if I felt love, what would I do then?” She smiled and rolled her eyes, as though to say they should have thought of that. “We’d think of something.” He wasn’t grinning. He had already formulated a plan. “No. No headset.” She cast her eyes to the floor. An opportunity, like so many others in her life, would slip by and be lost to her inability to perform, to understand, to learn. Embarrassment was overshadowed by the heat of unbidden visions in her mind. He was a large man. Muscular. Hard. As she forced the thoughts away, the quiet of the room brought her notice back to him. She felt his gaze from across the room. Quiet. Thinking. Deciding. He stalked toward her, slowly, muscles taut, body rigid. Her body went on full alert. No one had ever looked at her like that. Her pulse quickened. As he stood before her, she felt the heat radiating from his body. “Are you asking me to make love to you?” The low bass tone reminded her of his music. Something to make love to. Her mind went into fast rewind as she tried to recall the words she used that might have implied that. Did she want this? Yes. No. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. She didn’t know him. Not really. She needed him. She had already accepted that. She trusted him with her life, why not her body? But, her life was forfeit no matter what happened with Thomas Dane. She had nothing to lose that wasn’t already lost. Why not have sex with him? The answer floated through her mind with uneasy realization. She didn’t know how to have sex. “I can’t.” He didn’t seem to hear. His gaze fell to her lips and she wet them in response to her fear. Her eyes widened as his large hand cupped her chin. “You can,” he assured her as he lowered his lips until they hovered just above her own. “I don’t know what to do.” “I’ll teach you.” Peppermint. Coffee. Longing. His breath teased her lips. Heat.
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Soft. Electric. His lips touched feather-soft to hers. “Say yes.” His words were heated bass notes, playing music across sensitive skin. “Say it.” The demand brought warmth to her lips and wetness between her legs. “I can’t …” It was lost. The words were captured in his mouth as he slid lips across hers, devouring her words, her breath, her soul. No one had ever wanted her. Not for anything other than work. Certainly, not like this. She felt consumed, on fire, needy, but, for what, she couldn’t determine. Every cell of her body came alive. Every sense heightened. Aware. Alive. Screaming. She closed her eyes. The warmth of his hands running along her spine caused her to shiver. He held the back of her head to deepen his kiss. To teach her. To taste her. To master her. Large, warm hands caressed her, held her in place, caressed her again. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe, but she couldn’t remember how. She pulled in the smell of his cologne, musky, on masculine skin. His soft lips made demands and she responded. His tongue was tentative at first as it penetrated the recesses of her mouth. Incredibly soft, warm, caressing. “Dane,” she whispered his name as his lips burned a path along her jaw. “I want you.” This could be her only chance, her only opportunity, to know what it was like to have sex. The fact that she was going to have sex with Thomas Dane without the use of his Emotion Chip left her feeling as though she had won an incredible battle. She wasn’t changing the world through technology, she was gaining something miraculous by discarding it. “Let me get my headset.” He left her for just a moment. But it was long enough for the cold to replace her utter shock. “I said ‘no,’” Grace wavered as she attempted to gain control of her demanding body. “No headset.” “I need it.” Fact. Logic. Cold. The room stopped spinning. The world came back into view. Grace let her gaze rake over his hardened body. “You most certainly do not need it.” “Physically, maybe not,” he wouldn’t deny the obvious. The very obvious. “But I thought all women wanted their men to love them? Don’t you want me to love you? Don’t you want me to feel love for you?” A change of tactics was definitely necessary. His body told him so. Dane put the headset aside, putting his empty hands out in front of him as though that could give her peace and make her trust him. “We have little time, Grace.” His voice had taken on that familiar bass tone. “No, I have little time,” she corrected. “If it can’t be without the headset, I don’t want it.” “Why? What does it matter?” “I want to believe that you want me, for me.” It was silly. She knew it when she said it. They had just met. She had cried, gotten lost in the fog, done everything wrong. What could endear her to him? Nothing. She was the sum of her accumulated experiences. A servant. Poor. Frightened. Dying.
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Dane stood very still. That painful tingling radiated outward again. It wasn’t her words that wounded him, it was the look in her eyes, a look that said she believed he wouldn’t want her. “I think you’re beautiful.” The words were in his head, but were released into the air on a whisper. “ Never trust a man who says you’re beautiful.” The hurtful words of one of her employer’s guests came back to haunt her. Dane had said it twice now. Could she trust him? Should she trust him? Juliana had been the only woman to ever offer her any advice about men. The gorgeous brunette was a frequent visitor at the company house where Grace worked. The woman was an executive, but she had other talents that made her a frequent guest. Juliana had offered a great deal of advice, but Grace wasn’t so simple as to believe that any of it was meant to be helpful. “If you don’t give them what they want, you become expendable.” Grace had believed that little bit of advice. Dane was her better. Did he have the right to insist on her compliance just because he thought it best for her? “Will you leave me if I don’t have sex with you?” Her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, daring him to answer. Cold water couldn’t have worked better. “Where the hell did that come from?” Dane demanded. He’d never had to bully anyone into sex. He’d never had to ask for it either. It was always there, laying in his bed right next to his headset. “Will you demand me to,” she could barely say the last words aloud, “service you?” “Oh no you don’t,” he interrupted. “You would never be required to have sex just to pacify me.” He walked back to the headset. This was over. It was wasting precious time. “I’m sorry, Dane.” She wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. Misunderstanding him. Not having sex with him. Knowing he wouldn’t care for her without a headset. “I just want to know where I stand with you before I follow you into that tunnel.” “Let’s drop it. We’ve got to get going.” He shoved the headset back into his backpack. All the emotional electricity was gone, a shadow in her memory. “What next?” He was looking around the room as though he had lost something. “Let’s see if we can find something helpful here. Something we can use as a weapon.” Carefully, quietly he opened drawers and looked through cabinets. “But we have weapons.” “AIM soldiers aren’t human anymore. They’re part machine. A bullet may not bring one down.” The thought was terrifying. If a bullet didn’t stop them, what would? Dane stopped when he came across a cabinet with a lock. No electricity, but the presence of a lock made this cabinet special. “Look at this.” He motioned for her. “Altered Emotion Chips. Fake casings. And ….” He pulled out a headset that was large, with a six inch rod, “military.” Triumph.
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His smile sent butterflies in flight somewhere in her stomach. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him as he sat down and began to disassemble the headset. “What will we do with it?” Her body needed to be close to him. She sat down on a chair nearby. “If you fix the wires just right it will send an electric jolt into your brain when you plug in.” He was putting it back together. “Can we listen in to what they’re saying?” She stopped. “You mean it will kill them?” Dane put the tiny screws in place and his gaze snapped to hers. “It will kill whoever tries it out.” He shoved it in his pack. “It looks standard issue and you won’t know it isn’t until you plug in.” Grace wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It could kill a real person. “What if someone other than an AIM soldier tries to use it? Like a regular military soldier?” “Right now, there are two kinds of people in the world, Grace.” Dane stood and Grace followed suit. “Us and them.” His shoulder rested on the front door as he turned to look at her. “But, couldn’t we use it to track them, or listen in? Wouldn’t that be a better use of the thing?” A headset as a weapon was an atrocity. “They don’t work that way. A frequency is assigned for each mission. When the mission is over, the frequency is changed. It’s like a secret code.” Dane pushed the door open. There was nothing left to say. The headset wasn’t helpful unless it killed someone. The fog had risen, hitting Grace just below her breasts. The smell of burning wood mingled with the salt air. People were cold, scared and starting to think for themselves. Few people used real fireplaces, but that wouldn’t stop the need for warmth. They walked the streets alone. A city full of people and they walked down the center of the street like the last two people on earth. Sounds in the distance, screams, slamming doors, a few car horns. Why weren’t there more cars? Were the sheep content to wait for shepherds? In a city of millions, were there really so few who had travel skills? So many too frightened to move about the city? Or, had the AIM soldiers made their presence known? Doing their job, whatever that was, to keep the sheep fenced in. Grace stopped beside Dane at the mouth of the Broadway tunnel. The gates of hell. It yawned and swallowed them up.
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Chapter 6 Darkness. Blind to the horrors of the tunnel. Grace panicked as she realized she could barely see. Her fright, and Dane’s silence, kept her from opening her mouth. A green light, soft, but effective, flew in an arc about ten feet in front of them. The fog seemed to hold the light, reflect it, and make the illumination grow. Dane stopped, pulled out another, and they walked forward toward the light. Dane remained on the left side of the light as they passed it. It left little room between the wall of the tunnel and the green haze of light. “Take my hand if you need to,” Dane whispered. “If something goes wrong, and you can’t find me, follow the lights back outside.” She nodded into the darkness. Her head turned as they passed the second light. Behind them, the two lights glowed about twenty feet apart. She looked forward again as Dane tossed another light into the air. This one went further than the other two and she wondered how many of the sticks Dane had with him. “Can you see anything?” She strained to see in front of her, but even with the soft green light she couldn’t see much. Dane had better eyesight. Better hearing. Not better, genetically enhanced. “Try not to talk,” he instructed. Calm. Logic. “Give me your hand.” He blindly reached behind him and she found his outstretched hand. There had been some light from the opening of the tunnel, but they had progressed nearly halfway and blackness encompassed them. How far had they come? How much time was left? Would she ever get warm again? Dane’s hand was warm. And that warmth followed a path down her spine, sending chill bumps across her skin. Dane slowed down, but she couldn’t see in front of him. She moved to the side, keeping hold of his hand. There was a car next to the green light. It was dark inside. They moved slowly toward it, setting her nerves on edge. What if someone was inside? What if they were dead? Worse yet, what if they were alive? Would whoever was inside try to stop them? Would they be required to aid them? And, would that keep them in the dark tunnel even longer? Dane pulled his gun and let go of her hand. Alone. Empty. Cold. She filled her hand with her own gun. Safety off. Dane threw a light inside. Nothing. No one. He moved closer. The fog had settled inside like a ghostly passenger. “Damn.” He turned back toward her. “Electric.” His was a hybrid, and if they could find another hybrid, they could drive out and outrun any AIM soldiers on the street. Her gaze moved from the empty car seat to Dane. Something in him had changed. Alert. Aware. She followed his gaze to the path of lights behind them. Standing, between the first two lights he had thrown, was a man. A big man. A soldier.
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The rifle on his back, the stance, the outline of his clothing all screamed AIM. “Don’t run.” Dane moved slowly. “We’re nothing to him. No threat.” Dane put his gun beneath his jacket. “Put your gun away. Don’t let him see it.” They moved away from the car. Grace put her gun inside the back of her jeans and pulled the sweater down to conceal it. Dane’s warm hand found hers again and he pulled her forward. Grace stumbled as she tried to walk forward while looking behind her. Dane caught her and she looked at him. He was throwing the green lights again. But, this time, instead of throwing them in an arch, he threw them low to the ground directly in front of him. He was throwing them much farther away now and Grace feared that they were almost out. “Don’t stop. No matter what, don’t stop.” Dane’s voice was still calm, but authoritative. His longer legs took longer strides and she had to nearly run to keep up. Looking back was a bad idea. The soldier was still there, but not moving. Why wouldn’t he follow them? Were they not a threat as Dane had said? Or, would they find someone waiting for them at the other end of the tunnel? Or maybe some thing? Her heart pounded out a painful rhythm. The headache she’d had most of the evening came back to protest her lack of attention. The cold penetrated the jacket, her clothes, her skin, her heart. She could hear the drumming, like a tribal beat in her head and in her chest. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. She strained to hear. She stopped looking back. Another light thrown and they were closer to the end. She could see it, barely lit by the night sky. The fog rolled toward them as though the tunnel were sucking it in. To the left, a heavy footstep. Something being dragged. Thump, swoosh. Thump, swoosh. Thump, swoosh. Dane moved her to the far right with his body. He took out a light and threw it in the direction of the sound. They kept moving, slowly, steadily, forward. The light surprised the man. He moved slowly, dazed, frightened, and confused. He was covered in blood. Lacerations covered his head and neck. His left eye was almost swollen shut. He looked toward them, unseeing. Grace looked at the man’s hand as it extended behind him. A hand, male or female she couldn’t tell, was in his. He was pulling someone. Someone unconscious. Someone dead. She didn’t want to think about the person on the ground being pulled behind him. Her hand instinctively gripped Dane’s tighter as she considered the irony of the situation. The two people across from them held hands. One alive; one dead. One alive; one dead. The man across from them was making a mewling noise. It was sad and pathetic. She wanted him to stop. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t bring the woman back to life. She couldn’t even save herself. That sound he made! If he didn’t stop, Grace would go insane. The man looked at the light. He moved toward it, pulling the body behind him. Two steps and he bent to pick it up. As he stood, the light moved. It was brighter above the fog. And as he brought it near his face his shadow caused an eerie play of light and dark on the cement wall behind him. The darkness moved; not a shadow, but something else. A big man, half his face a metal cover, a headset plugged in, one eye glowed red
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with light. The scream caught in her throat and she choked on it. Her heart joined it there and she thought she would vomit. Adrenaline coursed through her veins with lightning speed and made her world spin. Her lungs pulled in short, quick breaths, but nothing came out. “No!” She tried to scream it, but it echoed in her brain over and over. Tears, warm and wet, spilled down her cheeks. The man looked out toward them, listening to them move, as he backed toward the wall. “Run!” Dane pulled hard and she had no time to think. There were no more lights to show the way, only the gaping end of the tunnel calling them out. A scream echoed in the tunnel. Silence followed it. Footsteps, sure and swift, were growing louder behind them. They passed a car that had hit the tunnel wall. The front was smashed in, the driver’s side door hung open. Blood. They kept running. The footsteps behind them picked up speed. The end of the tunnel was a gaping mouth, laughing at them. There would be no safety at the end. The nightmare was following them out into the night. Dane shoved her hard and she hit the wall at the entrance of the tunnel. He pulled his gun and looked around frantically. It was impossible to see more than ten feet inside the tunnel now. His gaze scoured the area outside. A noise came toward him. A click, so quiet she wasn’t sure she really heard it. Dane fired four shots into the darkness. The sound was amplified and hurt her ears. Frantically, she looked around the area for more AIM soldiers. A block away she saw them coming. Three of them. “Dane! We have company.” She looked at him, but he was still aiming inside the tunnel. She moved forward, but slipped and fell hard. As she grabbed the railing that ran along the footpath inside the tunnel, a large black box with red lights caught her eye. The numbers were working backward. Nine hours left. She moved toward it. The casing looked familiar, but there were no markings on it. “Grace, let’s get out of here.” Dane came up behind her. He glanced at the box, then down the street at the oncoming soldiers. “They don’t move very fast,” she observed. “They’re grunts. They’re big, they’re stupid, and they’re dead.” As though that really explained anything. “Where do we go?” Grace’s voice cracked under the pressure and its high pitch hurt her own ears. “The Hyatt Apartments are only a short distance from here, but we need to run.” As Dane grabbed her hand, she threw one final glance into the tunnel and saw a small red light coming toward them. A shot rang out and Dane’s hand slipped away.
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Chapter 7 Gunfire went off from every direction. Dane fired into the tunnel with one gun and into the midst of the oncoming AIM soldiers with the other gun. The soldiers pulled their weapons, but more gunfire from a different direction distracted them, taking the three oncoming soldiers down. Grace looked out into the growing fog, but saw no one. Dane kept firing into the tunnel, but the AIM soldier was less than ten feet away. One well placed shot took off the soldier’s headset and that stopped him. Another shot to the center of his forehead took him down. “Let’s go, Grace,” Dane said, as he grabbed her hand again and never looked back. “There’s someone else out here.” Grace could still hear the gunfire. “We should help them.” “We need to help ourselves first, Grace.” Dane turned to see all three soldiers were dead. His gaze scanned the storefronts and the fog. He owed someone. The fog was above her chest now. When it finally came to block her eyesight, she knew the fear would overcome her. She didn’t want to breathe in the fog. She didn’t want to see in the fog. The fog, like the black box, was ticking down the time. Soon, it would encompass the city and all within it would be doomed. More shots rang out. Rapid fire. Machine guns? Or were there just so many people shooting at once? Dane looked back but didn’t slow down. She started to turn her head, but his harsh tug on her hand brought her gaze to the back of his head. “Don’t look back.” She could hear his voice over the diminishing sound of the gunfire. “You won’t like it.” She didn’t want to look back. She wanted to keep running and never stop. Her side hurt for a short time, but once the pain subsided, she felt like she could run forever. One block. Two blocks. On the fourth block Dane stopped. Grace almost ran into the back of him, but her instincts were getting better. Dane moved them to the side of a building where they couldn’t easily be seen. He checked behind them, but there was nothing. Not yet anyway. She followed his gaze to the street and sucked in air until she thought her lungs would explode. Burning wood assaulted her senses. The ocean breezes. Blood. Her eyes saw it, but her mind didn’t. She wasn’t ready to recognize what was in front of her. It was dawning on her slowly, terribly, and when she saw it, she couldn’t un-see it. She would never be able to un-see it. Not now, not late at night when she slept, not ever. It would always be there. First, it was the yellow and orange glow of the fires in the street directly in front of the Hyatt Apartments. There were three big ones and several smaller ones. Large bonfires made of furniture and wooden doors. It lit the street in an eerie glow casting
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shadows between buildings. “What is that?” Was that her voice? She didn’t recognize it. It sounded small and confused. “People, Grace. It’s people.” Dane’s gaze saw everything. As he scanned the area again and again Grace could see the wetness in his eyes reflecting the light of the fires. “Stephanie.” The name was whispered like a prayer, pleading for mercy. There were no AIM soldiers here. There didn’t need to be. Everyone was dead. Eerie light flickered on dead bodies. They were everywhere, on top of cars, on overturned dumpsters, and one large mound of bodies in the center of the street. Blood murals on building walls told stories she didn’t want to know. This wasn’t just a simple fish-in-a-barrel shooting. These people had resisted. And the AIM soldiers ripped them apart. Dane moved out of the safety of the shadows, walking slowly in a trance, toward the pile of dead humans. Grace followed closely behind him, giving him space to walk, to think, to feel. She thought she’d be sick, but she had gone mercifully numb. Six months. It hadn’t seemed like a long time when they told her. Now it stretched out in front of her like a dream and she wanted it. Grace kept looking for AIM soldiers. No one had followed them. Had the shooter killed them all? Would the AIM soldiers have called for help? Were more coming? Dane’s straining voice brought her back to him. He was pulling bodies out of the pile. He pulled one body off the pile, then another, then another. Some of the men were big, but he didn’t slow down. Stephanie. Grace wanted to help. She walked closer to the pile. The smell of blood and urine brought bile into her throat. She turned away to empty the contents of her stomach. Dane kept moving. She kept looking for AIM soldiers. She kept retching, but nothing would come up. She moved closer. Stephanie. Grace looked to Dane, who continued to move bodies as though nothing else was happening in the world. She turned to the upturned face of a dead man. He was near the top of the side she was on. The fog was thick, but this close she could see more people beneath him. He had been shot in the neck and the blood ran down his shirt where it turned black. Gray hair announced his age. His teeth were perfect in his gaping mouth. He was lying on one arm and the other was thrown out away from his body. She followed the flannel sleeve down his arm to his ashen hand. Purple at the fingertips. Dead. Cold. A lungful of air was a bad mistake this close to the bodies. Her body said she would throw up, but then didn’t follow through. Saliva coated her mouth. She closed out all thoughts as her hand took his. A handshake between the dead. She pulled on him. His arm extended, his shoulder moved, then nothing. He was too heavy. She let go of the hand. She’d have to find someone smaller. A woman perhaps. Or, a … she stopped thinking of it. She took his hand again with both of hers and she pulled hard. When his body began to move she pulled harder, not letting up until gravity began working for her and his body rolled down the pile and onto the street. She let go and wiped her hand on her jacket to rid herself of the memory. “She’s not here,” Dane announced.
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Grace let out a high pitched scream of surprise. She whirled around. He stood directly behind her, so close she felt his warmth, his gaze intense searching her eyes. They flicked to the pile of bodies behind her, and to the man she had let fall to the pavement. “Stop.” His gaze pinned her where she stood. The softly spoken word was lost in the fog. “Don’t you want to know?” “She’s not here. I feel it. I have to believe that.” His voice, that beautiful voice that had thrilled her when they kissed, that sang of love and hope to a world that had forgotten those feelings, echoed sadness in her heart. “We have less than nine hours. This is the only other place she might be. Let’s go up and see what we can find before the soldiers come.” He cast a last glance at the pile and walked away. She never looked back. Death would find her soon enough. She left it behind and followed Dane into the Hyatt, into the blackness. **** Dane lit candles in the abandoned penthouse that his sister had once stayed in. The windows were broken, the sofa set afire and thrown out into the street. Why? For light? Did they know there would be a fight? Did they think they could possibly win? “Stephanie said she found a box with a timer. I’m sure it’s like the one at the tunnel. Let’s see if we can find it.” Dane soothed his grief with work. “I’ve seen a box like that before,” Grace told him, as she, too, began to look about the apartment. They didn’t bother barricading the door this time. So much glass and debris would make it impossible not to hear someone coming. Besides, it was the only way out unless you could fly. “Where?” He stopped. Remembering caused a scowl between her eyebrows. Where had she seen that box before? It was recently. “The company I work for,” she began, the scowl remaining, “Juliana had one in her car. She was going to pick up a client and bring them back to the company house where I work.” “Juliana? What company do you work for?” Dane made his way across the room toward her. “I work for Infinity, Inc. They make headsets. Just the outside parts, not the technology.” The day Juliana had sent her out to retrieve something from her car and she saw the box was the same day her original headset had been broken. Later in the evening, when Juliana returned, she was drunk and accidentally broke the headset. The company replaced it with a wireless one. She had been thrilled. “Juliana works for the company. She’s in research.” She does other things for the company, as well. Grace would never say that, though. She knew her place. Besides, what would it matter to Dane? “Juliana Miles?” His voice was flat. Unhappy. “Yes. Do you know her?” Grace couldn’t have been more surprised. “Stephanie was supposed to have a debate with someone named Juliana Miles,
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from Infinity, about their research into genetic alteration for headsets next month. Infinity got the contract for the genetic hook ups, but Stephanie had caused the law to be held up in court over ethical issues.” There had been a lot of talk about a government contract at Infinity, but it was all top secret. Not that people noticed her when they talked at the company house. There were always parties, drinking, drugs, Juliana. “I knew Stephanie was fighting genetic alteration, I just didn’t realize Infinity was involved.” “That’s why they agreed to the debate. They were trying to keep it all hush-hush until after the court case was settled. The case was actually against the government, not Infinity, but Infinity stood to lose a great deal. Everyone on the project was asked to join in the debate.” Dane searched his memories for information that might be of more use. Political intrigue was Stephanie’s life. “Juliana hates Stephanie.” The comment was said quietly as Grace thought to herself, but something wasn’t right about it all. Something was missing. Juliana had said horrible things about Stephanie one day when she came in to find Grace hooked in when she should have been working. She demanded to know what Grace was doing and when she mentioned Stephanie, she thought Juliana was going to have a coronary. “A lot of people hate Stephanie,” Dane said. “She gets death threats all the time.” It was a good thing both her brother and husband were well trained. “I bet she needs bodyguards all the time,” Grace said absently. How could she tell him that Juliana did more than just hate his sister? Juliana said she wished someone would kill ‘the bitch’. Juliana had also said that she didn’t want Grace listening to any more of Stephanie’s little speeches. She struck her. Juliana had never done that before. No one in the company had ever hit her. The shock of it, all these months later, still caused her shame. She thought of reporting Juliana to Mr. Miller, the company executive who managed the house. But a few days later she was told she had a brain tumor and six months to live. The news had been more than distracting and she forgot about the incident. Funny how everything in your life seems so important until someone says you have a brain tumor. “Stephanie had Robert to protect her. He’s former-military. A SEAL.” Dane’s admiration for Robert came out in his voice. It caused her heart to ache as she recalled the carnage below. “He must be very brave. And love her very much.” What else could she say? She felt drawn to soothe him. She’d never felt that before. She’d taken care of a little, lost kitten once, feeding it scraps and letting it in the house when it was cold. She had felt something for the kitten. She liked taking care of it. Then, Juliana started staying there a lot and the kitten disappeared. “He does.” “I had a kitten once,” she said softly. It was her only experience with love. “It was a stray and I took care of it.” “I’m sure it loved you for it,” Dane said. Something about her haunted him. Her shyness over telling him about a kitten she’d obviously loved tugged at his insides. She
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looked lost and a part of him wanted to say more, but didn’t know the words that would comfort her. The crunch of glass on the stairs outside the room brought their full attention to the door. Dane pulled his gun and stepped in front of her. She moved so she could see. She wanted to be ready for whatever was coming. Heavy footsteps. A large person. Or someone carrying something heavy. Whoever it was tried to be silent, tried to be careful, tried not to warn them. Grace and Dane stood frozen, watching the door, waiting for the handle to move, waiting for what was to come. Silence. It was worse than the crunching glass. There was no way to tell where the person was. The handle moved freely, but stopped, just as the door began to open. A slight crack, the door creaked, and the glow of a small red light landed on the floor and moved up the wall beside them.
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Chapter 8 “Dane?” The voice was masculine. “Robert!” Dane put his gun away as he approached the door. The man had a rifle with a laser sight on it, but he put it down when Dane opened the door. Robert Rose looked just like he did on television, only now he was dirty and there was blood on his clothes. He was stunningly handsome. Blond, like Stephanie. Robert closed the door behind him, nodded briefly to Grace and embraced his brother-in-law. “I thought you were ….” Dane couldn’t say the words. He let Robert go and stepped back to inspect him. “I almost was, trying to save your ass,” Robert said. His smile was weary, but genuine. “Was that you?” Grace looked again at the rifle. Robert had other weapons, she was sure of it. His pack was large and it clinked as he set it down. “Robert, this is Grace Sullivan. She’s with me.” No explanation. No story. She’s with me. “Grace.” He nodded again, this time in welcome. He removed black leather gloves to shake her hand. Warm hands. Sure and strong. “That was me. I had to take out a few more before I could join you.” “Where’s Stephanie?” Dane’s voice was hopeful, but Robert’s expression took that away. “They’ve taken her.” Robert nodded toward the broken window and beyond. “It was a massacre. We had some of the resistance fighters with us. We found this damn black box with some pretty awful stuff attached to it set to explode later tonight. More people came and it got out of hand. We were going to try and hole up till you got here, but those cyborg bastards ruined that idea. We tried to fight them off. Everyone in the building either fought or fled. We started fires as a beacon for help to the other members of the resistance, but it was over before anyone could help. “Stephanie insisted that I come back for the black box while she was held up on the street with some of our men. By the time I got back down, she was gone and they were dead.” Robert paused, fighting something only he could see. “I heard her scream.” There was a hitch in his voice. Haunted. Devastated. Sad. Grace was frightened to see such a capable man fight his urge to break down. “So she could still be alive?” Dane wouldn’t give up. “They took her. They must have had a reason or they’d have killed her with the rest,” Robert reasoned. “My guess is that they want her sources. Just shutting her up isn’t enough.” “Do you have the black box?” Grace wanted to see it up close.
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Robert and Dane turned to her. Robert nodded and picked up his pack. He pulled it out and sat it on the coffee table. They all stared at the moving red numbers. “Look at this,” Robert whispered. He pointed to a small black button. When he pressed it a portion of the box moved away to reveal wires neatly held together by plastic ties, a detonator, a glass vial full of a red gel, speckled with black and yellow. “What is it?” Grace moved closer, but Robert put his arm up, stopping her from getting too near. Her gaze found his looking at Dane. “Do you know what this is?” Robert asked, but it was more a statement. He expected Dane to have answers. “They call it Fool’s Gold,” Dane shared. “It’s a bacteria that can’t be killed.” “How can that be?” Grace asked, looking again to the vial. “Bacteria can be killed easily.” “Not this bacteria.” Dane moved closer to examine it. “It was genetically engineered to be resistant to all medications. It’s incredible and deadly. When it’s released into the air it attacks the respiratory system immediately. Your lungs swell, fill with fluid, and you choke to death.” Grace backed away, staring at it in horror. Dane kept talking to Robert. “But it starts to break down after 24 hours and becomes something more like a strep infection. Twenty-fours hours later, it’s harmless.” “So, if I can hold my breath for 48 hours I’ll live?” Robert’s sarcasm was surprisingly familiar. “How do you know all this?” Grace asked. Dane was an entertainer. An inventor. Not a scientist. The two men exchanged glances. Robert said nothing. Dane turned to her, resolve etched in his face. “I worked for the military for a while. Covert black ops. Research. The Emotion Chip wasn’t just my idea, it really was my invention. I created it.” She thought he would sound proud and was shocked by his sad tone. Genetically altered, working for the government. Covert research? Were these supposed to be black marks against him, or reasons to trust him? “I don’t understand.” Grace backed away from him. Her expression stopped him from moving forward. He wanted to assure her that he was one of the good guys. That mattered to him. It was important. “Grace, don’t be afraid of me. We’ve been through a lot together and you know you can trust me.” One step forward, slow. “I don’t work for the government anymore. Not since the chip.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” She didn’t move. She couldn’t. “It didn’t matter until now.” Another step forward and the distance between them began to melt away. “It mattered. It mattered to me. You kissed me.” It came out, unbidden. Her cheeks grew warm as her gaze darted to Robert, but he wasn’t judging her. “I kissed you.” Another step. “What does that mean Grace?” Confusion. Was he making fun of her? Kissing was nothing to a superstar. He was most likely kissed every night, by different women. She hated that thought.
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“It means that I should have known you better. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” This is why people got mating licenses. You got to know the rules. You were instructed by professionals. There was no guessing, no surprises. “It means that you wanted a kiss, Grace. That’s all it means. It could’ve been Robert, kissing you. It didn’t matter.” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t want anyone to kiss her but him. The thought of Robert kissing her made his blood boil, but there was no way in the world Robert would ever do such a thing. “It didn’t matter.” It was whispered so softly he almost missed it. Her thoughts turned inward and he couldn’t reach her. She tucked herself neatly inside the barriers her class was given. Don’t speak, don’t listen, and don’t get in the way. You don’t matter. She recognized that she was hurt by his words, but she couldn’t place the reason. She had no right to be shocked. She had no right to be hurt. Thomas Dane was not a man who needed a servant. He was not a man who needed an inexperienced woman. He was not a man to consider kissing a woman of lesser social stature to be important. It was only important to her. For that, she was angry at herself. “Of course,” Grace said as she felt the hurt, and accepted her fate. “It didn’t matter. You don’t owe me any explanations. I’m grateful that you’ve helped me.” She said all the things someone of her class was expected to say. Everything she was taught to say and to believe. And it pissed him off. “Grace!” His sharp tone caused Robert to stand on alert. “What I’m trying to say is that we haven’t had enough time to get to know each other. I don’t go around telling people about my involvement with the government. It could hurt Stephanie’s career, her reputation. We’re both reacting, not thinking. That’s the whole point.” Dane wanted to shake her. How dare she say kissing him didn’t matter? It damn well mattered! How had he gotten so close? She felt his body heat as he took the final step that put him directly in front of her. He still smelled wonderful. She wished he didn’t. “Nothing is the way it should be,” he said as he lightly caressed her jaw. “People shouldn’t be dead outside on the street. My sister shouldn’t be missing. I shouldn’t have to use a chip to feel love. And you,” he bent his head as his fingers threaded in her hair, “you should be kissed and it should matter.” His mouth claimed hers, sending an electric jolt from her lips throughout her entire body. His name echoed in her mind until it was a whisper across her skin. His full, sensuous lips moved in a slow, rhythmic dance from her mouth to her ear, burning a path down her neck. Her nipples tightened as his teeth grazed her skin. All sense of propriety was lost. She moved her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Leaning back gave him more access to the sensitive skin on her neck. Her sigh slipped out just before he claimed her mouth again. She opened to him and he tasted her. Silky, smooth heat invading her, devouring her, claiming her. His breath was uncontrolled as he whispered in her ear. “What are you thinking Grace?” he asked. “Tell me what you think when I kiss you. I need to know.” A cough, rough and loud interrupted them, bringing the world crashing back into focus.
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“I, for one,” Robert said, “don’t need to know. Sorry bro’.” He shrugged his apology. Grace stared into the most beautiful dark eyes she’d ever seen. Dane. His gaze was locked on her, shock and desire mingling there. She had the decency to blush. Robert had seen everything, but she couldn’t look away. “Two people couldn’t look more shocked,” Robert was teasing. “You would think you’d never kissed anyone before.” Dane looked at his brother in law. The shocked look was quickly replaced by a bad boy smile that could melt the heart of any girl … and probably did, routinely. “There’s a lot to do, and little time.” Robert’s voice turned serious. Someone he loved was out there, waiting for him to come for her. “We won’t have any outside help coming in.” “Why not?” Grace asked. San Francisco was a huge city. It was only a matter of time before someone asked why communications had stopped. Not many people traveled outside the home, but a lot of powerful people lived in this area, and they would have travel licenses. “It’s just like Detroit,” Robert watched the hope fade from her eyes. “I’m sorry. By now the military will have set up a parameter to hold back any incoming travel and you can just bet that the news is warning of a terrorist attack. Everyone in the country, maybe even the world, is waiting, hoping that the military can save us.” He gave a snort of disgust at the irony of it. “Do you have a plan?” Dane started to walk away, then paused long enough to take her hand. He pulled her toward the glass coffee table and they sat on the blue carpeted floor. “You won’t like it,” Robert promised. “I don’t like it already,” Dane smiled, trying to relieve some tension. “We need to find the command center and shut this down from there.” “That’s not so bad,” Dane teased. “We’ll need to kill a high ranking AIM soldier, take his headset and use it as a homing device in order to find the command center.” “You’re right. I don’t like it.” Dane grew serious. “But it’s a good plan.” “If they’ve taken Stephanie for interrogation, that’s where she’ll be.” Robert walked to the broken window. He stood to the far left, looking out without being seen. He was as tall as Dane, but not as muscular. Still, there was no doubt the man could hold his own in a fight. And he’d already proven that he was willing to kill to save the people he cared for. Grace liked Robert. He was loyal. He loved his wife and would do anything to save her. He would die for Stephanie. She wondered what that kind of love felt like. “We’ll find her,” Grace promised. What possessed her to speak to him she wasn’t sure. Yesterday, she never would have spoken to someone like Robert. Yesterday, she couldn’t make promises to herself. Now, she was making them to someone in a much higher class than she. Her teachers would punish her if they knew of such impropriety, such brazen disregard for her station. “I know,” he said. Sure. Sad. Lost. “Thank you.”
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She had no idea how to respond. She said nothing more. “We need to get Grace somewhere safe,” Dane said. He stood and left her there on the floor near the black box and walked toward Robert, careful not to be seen from the outside. “There is nowhere safe.” Robert’s thoughts were somewhere else. “She can’t come with us to fight AIM soldiers.” Robert’s eyes focused, his gaze finding her, then going to Dane. “We can’t leave her here. We should never leave her alone. Not for a moment. It’s too risky.” “I know you’re thinking of Stephanie, Robert, but this is different. Grace has limited travel skills. If we got separated, it could cost her her life.” Dane needed Robert to understand. “I’ll be fine,” Grace interrupted them. The fear of being alone, dying alone, was overpowering. “I can shoot, and I have some travel skills.” Cold weighed on her heart. Robert stepped away from the window. He leaned closer to his brother-in-law to make sure his point was taken. “You told her it mattered,” he whispered. “Now make it matter.” The men exchanged an extended glance. Robert was certain that Grace would be taken by AIM soldiers if they didn’t stay with her. His guilt over losing Stephanie had affected his logic. Dane wouldn’t be able to fight them both on this. Make it matter. “Come on, Grace,” Dane held out his hand to her as he came back to where she now stood. He wasn’t angry. He was determined. He would keep her safe. “We’re hunting AIM soldiers.”
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Chapter 9 “What do we do with this?” Grace asked as she picked up her satchel and glanced at the black box. “They’re all over the city by now. Leave it.” Dane picked up his pack and they followed Robert out onto the street. The fog hit her at her shoulders, but she could still see through it enough to walk. It would be quite some time before it would impede either Dane or Robert. Dane kept hold of her hand as though he might lose her to the fog itself. “Why do we need a high-ranking soldier?” Grace asked, trying to occupy her mind with something other than dead bodies. “They usually leave grunts to die,” Dane replied. “But they invest pretty heavily in the higher ranking ones. They want those guys back, so they have homing devices.” “The problem is,” Robert said, as he led them around to the ocean side of the apartment, “they’re also smarter, faster, and able to make decisions on their own within a relative framework of established rules.” “So they could outsmart us?” Grace asked. The thought of it turned her stomach. “Not us.” Dane squeezed her hand reassuringly. They walked toward the ocean and old Pier 39. The large city museum looked more like a haunted house tonight. The place had once been a popular tourist attraction full of life and children’s laughter. Now, it housed the memories of things, the history of things, and it could be seen every night on channel 11 between 1 and 2 AM. Her heavy jacket, Stephanie’s jacket, was no match for the cold sea air. She shivered and, feeling it, Dane turned to check on her. She offered a weak smile and he turned back to follow Robert into the shadows. “Why are we staying close to the ocean instead of heading into the city?” Grace’s teeth had started to chatter, so she spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “The command center will have to be close enough to control the AIM soldiers, but mobile, so they can evacuate before they blow it all to hell,” Robert said. He motioned for them to stand nearer the walls of the buildings near the piers as they walked by them. “The best way to be close and far away with little chance of getting trapped in the city? By ship.” He said more, but a strong wind came up and stole his words. A bell sounded from just offshore. They stopped. The wind that stole Robert’s words carried the sound of a motor to them. Robert signaled for them to be silent and hide between the buildings. Grace was tucked behind both men and could only see a small area of the alley. The bell sounded again, closer. Voices announced the landing of the boat. There was a sharp thump of a boat hitting the dock, and then footsteps. The footsteps made a hollow sound on the old wooden dock, and then a softer sound as boots hit cement. Grace’s hand crept up to take Dane’s. He looked back at her, brought her
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knuckles to his lips, brushed a kiss there, and gave a short squeeze of reassurance. He held on, defrosting her frozen fingers. Through the cold night air, the dense fog, and the fear, it warmed her. “Just do as you’re told.” A female voice, sharp, high pitched, pissed. Familiar. “My orders are to take you to the land base. No detours.” Male, authoritative, unaffected. “Check with the command center.” The woman wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Footsteps grew louder and distinctive as the sound of high heels hitting pavement gave away her position well before her voice did. They were walking by. Robert and Dane put their backs to the wall and hunkered down into the fog. Grace followed them, but her eyes never left the opening between the buildings. Two figures filled the space. Male. Female. Soldier. Civilian. Grace’s eyes widened with recognition. Juliana. Her heart skipped a beat, then leapt up into her throat. Her free hand covered her mouth to stifle any inclination to gasp. Juliana stood not ten feet away, facing the city. Her shoe drummed a rhythm of annoyance on the cement. The AIM soldier was calling into the command center. A brief exchange of information and the soldier turned to face her, putting him directly in line with Grace. She froze. Was she covered by the fog? Could he see her? She didn’t dare move and bring attention to them. “We’ll make the one stop. That’s it.” The soldier told her. No annoyance. No emotion. Orders from the command center were all that mattered. Following orders. He motioned and another soldier came into view. “Take her. Meet me back here in an hour.” The soldier nodded and Juliana followed him out of Grace’s field of vision. The AIM soldier stood looking into the darkness where Grace crouched. His eyes seemed to penetrate the dense fog. His head moved slightly to one side as though listening for something. “Yes, General. I’ll take care of her,” he said. He moved the mouth piece away and walked away. Footsteps receded back over the wooden dock. They sat there another ten minutes in silence. Be sure. Be careful. Robert tapped out something on Dane’s shoulder. Dane nodded and pulled on Grace’s hand. They stood and waited for Robert to check for danger. Robert walked to the entrance of the alley and peered, first to the left, then to the right. He motioned for them to follow, and he waited for them. “I know that girl,” Grace said. “That’s Juliana from Infinity.” “What’s she doing with AIM soldiers?” Dane asked. “Black box,” was Robert’s answer. Dane nodded. Infinity had ties to the military. Weapons. “Did you hear them say there was a land base?” Dane asked Robert. “What are we going to do? Stephanie could be there. She could be at the command center. We don’t have time to check both places.” “Let’s start with getting a military head set from our pal on the dock,” Robert pulled out a stun gun. “Then, we’ll find Steph.” “We’ll need to lure him off that dock without giving ourselves away. If he reports
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something suspicious then doesn’t check in, the command center will know to shut him out of communications,” Dane told them. Robert stopped at the side of the museum just before the turn that would put them in line with the dock. “Look out there,” he instructed Dane. The walkway to the end of the dock was 20 yards long. It was a good 50 feet to the wooden walkway. They could hide in the fog to get there, but there would be no disguising their footsteps on the antiquated walkway. Two red lights announced the soldiers out there, a grunt and their target. Even in the dark, the outline of their uniforms set them apart. “This is impossible. They’ll see us. They’ll turn us in. Let’s look in the city instead.” Dane shook his head. “The clock is ticking, Dane. This is our guy.” Robert’s single-minded purpose had more to do with his wife than the ticking of a clock. “What do you suggest?” Dane worried that Robert’s inability to think logically would have them running right into the line of fire. “Can’t you take them out from a distance?” Grace thought of the laser sight. Robert was a SEAL. This should be easy. Dane looked from Grace to Robert. Robert was a sharp shooter. But, if he missed, they would be on to him before he could get off another shot. Grace watched the two men communicate silently as they fell back into the shadows. Robert took out the rifle, but left the laser sight off. She looked away into the night. She recalled hearing Stephanie say something during a speech. What was it? Fear didn’t make you a coward, refusing to act did. Something like that. Stephanie was no coward. And, neither was she. She looked back at the men and their weapons. Robert was gone. She hadn’t heard him leave. Dane’s gaze went out toward the city, down the darkened streets, and she felt the chill of uncertainty from the inside out. She strained to see into the darkness. “What is it?” Short sentences were best when your teeth chattered. “The fog. It’s thicker.” Grace realized that it had risen to just beneath her chin. She had been able to see through it relatively well, but Dane was right, it was becoming denser. It crept along the darkened streets with purpose. Something about the fog wasn’t right. She shuddered and felt the warmth of Dane’s arm encircle her shoulders. He pulled her to him, warming her back to his chest. His heart was beating steady. She tried to concentrate on the sounds around them when the first shot rang out. She couldn’t suppress her gasp, and she moved with Dane to the corner of the building to see if Robert had hit his mark. She couldn’t see Robert, but the grunt was gone, lost in the fog. Straining to see if the soldier was dead, her heart almost stopped in her chest with fear as Robert’s form lifted in slow-motion from the darkness. He was halfway between them and the standing soldier. Dane pulled on her hand and they went down into the fog as another shot rang out. “Stay here, Grace,” Dane said as he let go of her hand.
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He was gone. She sat down in the fog on the cold cement. Fear caused the world to spin. He had left her. He wasn’t supposed to leave her, but he was gone. Another shot. Why would there be another shot? Was there another soldier? Did the soldier fire back on Robert? On Dane? She was frozen to the cement, paralyzed, breathing in as though the fog held little oxygen. Get yourself together. He didn’t leave you. He’s here. Don’t panic. Now isn’t the time. Wait six months. Panic then. She felt for her gun. If they were going to kill her, she wouldn’t go alone. She had six months and if someone cheated her of that they would pay a high price for it. The gun was cold, unfeeling, like the soldiers. Her fear was replaced by the numbness of knowing that she was, indeed, capable of using such a weapon. Something inside her clicked off. Her eyes searched the dense fog for movement. She had pulled the gun before, but Dane had been with her. The intent wasn’t there. The gun had been a shield, not a weapon. Dane wasn’t here now. This wasn’t a video game. This wasn’t a simulation. If she pulled the trigger, someone would die. She would condemn them to the fate she feared the most. She told herself she should feel something over that. Guilt. Sadness. Mercy. Anything. But, it wouldn’t come. A piece of her humanity slipped away with the knowing, but she would have to mourn it later. Alone. Footsteps helped her line up a shot. One in front, one behind. A piece of metal hit the cement behind her. Which was Dane? Which was death? If she chose wrong, Dane would die. Or, she would. The numbness held. The safety clicked off. She crouched down, one hand on the cement to steady her, the other holding the gun, pointing in front of her. Another shot rang out from a different direction. Three. There were three. Dane … Robert … “I have positive identification of subject Grace Sullivan,” rang out behind her. The almost metallic sounding voice caused her to scream out. She whirled around and pointed the gun at the six-foot four inch AIM soldier from the dock. “She is with two unknown male subjects. Armed.” “Grace!” Dane was in front of her, but she couldn’t see him. She looked away, then back to the soldier, but he wasn’t there. He’d disappeared under the cover of the fog. She willed her legs to move, but they refused. She willed herself to look through the fog, but she couldn’t do it. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she felt no emotion. Another shot rang out. It was to her right, close. “Robert, don’t shoot! Grace is over there!” Dane’s voice rang out. “Christ!” Robert was coming closer. “Call out, Grace. Let us know you’re okay.” She couldn’t do it. The soldier had seen her. Knew her name. He was in the fog. She turned slightly in Robert’s direction. She willed herself to speak, say anything that would let him know where she was. Her mouth opened, but all that came out was a scream as a large, cold hand grabbed her wrist and her gun.
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Chapter 10 The grip was harsh and she felt as though her bones would break. The gun fell to the pavement and fired into the fog. The soldier was much taller and when he lifted her she felt her feet leave the cement. He looked at her. One eye dark, the other a glowing red light encased in silver metal. The military headset was plugged in. The mouthpiece hovered at its lips. “I have the subject.” The voice sounded more human this close up. She was well above the fog and could see all around her. Where was Dane? Where was Robert? Had she accidentally shot one of them when she dropped the gun? She hung suspended in the air, her body rubbing against the hard, cold AIM soldier. She grabbed his arm to level out her body weight so he didn’t break her wrist. The pain was intense. “Dane!” “Shall I silence her?” He spoke to an uncaring, unseeing, all-powerful entity on the other end of his headset. How would he silence her? Why didn’t he just kill her? Was he going to? She glanced at the headset as she let go of his arm and hit at the mouthpiece. The rod in his ear came out two inches. She hit at the headset as the soldier attempted to capture her free hand. The piece came out, caught around his neck, leaving him unable communicate with the command center. She swung at the headset again, trying to knock it into the heavy fog, to buy time. Where’s Dane? As her hand came up again the soldier caught it. A shot rang out, she heard it pass by her ear and it hit him. She fell to the ground. She scrambled away as another shot came. It hit metal. The soldier stumbled backward. Grace stood to run. The metal side of the soldier’s head was coming apart, but he was still alive. What stopped her wasn’t the sight of blood, but the look on his face. Surprise. Shock. Fear. His human eye searched in confusion. He saw her. His hand reached out, but he fell back onto the cement. He lay still, the red light out. The sound of footsteps brought Grace around to see Robert running from the direction of the dock. Dane stood ten feet away, arm straight, gun out, still smoking. His arm fell to his side, his gaze on Grace. Her body began to shake. She ran to him, threw herself into his arms. The numbness was gone and in its wake came everything she wasn’t able to feel before, guilt, fear. Ssshhhhh …” Dane held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. He whispered soothing things to her over and over. “It’s going to be okay now.” His cheek rested on the top of her head. She thought she couldn’t possibly tremble more, but it wasn’t her, it was Dane.
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His breath came in short, quick spurts. His arms wouldn’t stop crushing her to him. He kissed the top of her head, her forehead, her cheek. “I’m so sorry Grace,” he whispered. “Never again. I promise. I’ll never leave you again.” Robert paced beside them, but couldn’t contain his rage. “You stupid ass!” Robert screamed, uncaring that the volume of his voice would carry for miles in the empty darkness. Dane set her away from him and turned to Robert. Dane was rocked back as Robert’s fist connected. “Stop it!” Grace yelled at Robert. “Stop it.” She lowered her voice. A warning that things were getting out of hand and they needed to calm down. Dane stared at Robert, rubbing his jaw. No surprise. No anger. “I know what I did was wrong,” Dane’s voice carried his regret. “No you don’t.” The anger was still there, still raw. “When you come back and she’s gone, then you’ll know. But, until then, you’d better keep your promise Dane. Cause from where I’m standing it doesn’t look like she matters much to you at all.” “Its okay, Robert,” Grace’s soft voice wasn’t enough to calm the man. He turned to her, looked at her, through her, seeing something she couldn’t see. “Its okay, Grace,” his tone turned calm, “because when you screamed he was here to save you.” The threat of tears shined in his eyes and the pain, the grief there caused her to look away. “He might not get so lucky next time.” She wanted to go to him. Comfort him somehow. Her heart broke at the thought if his grief. The love for his wife. She’d never seen anyone love so desperately, so completely. The thought of it drew her gaze to Dane, who stood alone in the fog, with his reflections and regret. A man who could feel so much, give so much, yet be denied the one thing he desired most. Real love. To feel real love. Robert walked toward the soldier. There was work to do. There was still hope, for Stephanie, for the people of San Francisco, for them. “His headset fell off,” Robert swore under his breath as he tried to see through the fog. “I’ll need some help over here.” It had become more and more difficult to see in the growing fog. Grace got on her hands and knees to feel around the cold cement for the headset. A faint high pitch tone, almost too faint to detect, caught her attention and she followed it. The sound brought her closer to the unconscious soldier, and she slowed her pace. Robert was near the head of the soldier, and Dane was behind her at the soldier’s feet. As she neared the large man she realized he had once been handsome. It was difficult to tell in the fog how old he was, but the outline of his face and her memory of that moment facing him caused a picture to form in her mind. Dark hair and eyes that had once been chocolate brown. One was still brown. His uniform was black, red numbers ran along the breast pocket. 013067. Did they call him that? Did he have a name? Her examination of the man brought her closer to the mysterious noise. The headset was under his neck. Grace heard a soft voice, whispering. Someone from the command center? “I don’t want to die,” the whisper called out for mercy, but not from the headset.
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With a gasp Grace realized the man was still alive. “What is it?” Dane was there beside her. “He’s alive.” Robert gun pulled, pointed at the man’s head. Retribution curved his lips into a satisfied smile. Revenge. It changed his handsome face into something Grace couldn’t recognize. “I don’t want to die.” Again the plea for mercy. Robert looked at Dane. “Get the headset. That’s what we came here for.” Dane nodded and picked it up. Grace looked at the soldier’s bloody face. His eye opened, the red light no longer worked, but his human eye moved frantically around until it found Grace’s face. Fear was set aside and a clear understanding transpired between them. She was all the mercy he would know. Somewhere, somehow, he’d been turned into a government experiment. Like Dane. A prisoner, a soldier, a volunteer, she didn’t know what had brought him to this point, but without that glowing red eye he looked like a wounded man, a wounded man pleading for his life. “Paul,” he whispered to her. He glanced at Robert, and then settled back on Grace. “My name is, Paul.” “Stop.” Grace placed her hand on Robert’s wrist. “No, Robert.” She looked into Robert’s eyes, eyes that said killing this man would make things right. “This won’t bring her back.” Grace’s simple words, soft words, caused Robert to hesitate. “We can’t let him go. This could be a trap.” Dane was behind her. Logical. Rational. “We can’t just kill him,” Grace said. “I can.” Robert hadn’t lowered the gun. “And what if he can help us find Stephanie?” Grace asked. “What if we throw away a chance at getting her back alive? Can you live with that?” Robert’s jaw flexed as he considered what to do. His gaze went to Dane, then back to the soldier. Paul. “Do you think that whatever controls him was destroyed when he was shot?” Dane asked. “He seems different,” Grace answered. She didn’t know. But there was something in the man’s eye that spoke of fear and humanity. No matter what it is, nothing wants to die. Grace knew that on an intimate level. Paul wasn’t just a soldier. He was a servant. Like her. A servant to the government. He was dying. She was dying. Perhaps there would be no mercy for either of them. No hope. “Grace is right,” Dane spoke as he scanned the area. More soldiers could be on their way. “We can use him. Check him for weapons and if he can walk, we take him.” “I don’t like it.” Robert lowered the gun to his side and began patting Paul down. There were more weapons, but they belonged to Robert now. “What if he can’t walk?” “We can’t carry him. We can’t let him go.” Dane’s voice held a note of finality to it. Robert nodded in acknowledgement. “Can you move?” Grace asked, worried that Paul would fall victim to his own
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inabilities. Like her. Paul didn’t move. His eye rolled upward to the sky, unseeing, concentrating. His entire body jerked in spasm. A grimace across his face told of pain. His left arm moved, his right leg, and slowly he sat up. His gaze moved with his body and he came close enough to Grace that their noses almost touched. “Grace,” Dane warned. She moved back. Mercy was best given with caution. “How do we know we can trust him not to try to kill us?” Robert’s tone was still menacing. Grace looked at Paul. She studied him as he did the same to her. Gratitude was etched in his face. His eye moved over her face as though he had never seen a woman before, had never been offered mercy before. “The command center knows you,” Paul said to her. “They’re coming.” The military had been warned before Paul was shot. They hadn’t killed him outright and he had found time to contact the command center. “He identified Grace, but didn’t know who you were,” Robert spoke to Dane. “Everyone in the world knows who you are. Hell, a lot of people know who I am. But he identified Grace.” Grace felt goose bumps crawling over her flesh. No one knew her. She was nobody. But, Robert was right. Paul had identified her by name. “Why did you identify Grace and not us?” `Dane’s voice was demanding. Angry. “What do you want with Grace?” “Good thing I didn’t shoot him?” Robert brought the gun out again and pointed it at Paul’s chest. “If he doesn’t tell us what we want to know, I’ll shoot him myself,” Dane said. “Oh? And where is your humanity now little brother?” Robert glanced to Dane. Dane was silent for so long Grace turned around to see him. His gaze fixed on her, then caressed her face. The softness was there and gone in a second as he looked at Robert. “With yours,” Dane nodded to Robert. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The goosebumps danced on her skin until she shivered. A sound in the distance brought them all around facing the city. The darkened streets were filled with fog. Red lights, hundreds of them, crisscrossed while soldiers ran toward them. It was a beautiful light show in the eerie fog. “They’re here,” Paul whispered. “We’re all dead.”
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Chapter 11 “Come on,” Robert said as he tucked his gun in front of his pants. He pulled out green glowsticks and gave Dane a handful. He handed one to Grace, and she put it in her pocket. It had been too risky for the chemical lights earlier. The ocean at Grace’s back blew cold air through the fog. The white-gray fog billowed, swirled, and dipped. To their left was the street that would take them back to the Hyatt, to dead bodies and no hope. To the right was darkness. More fog. Eerie winds that held the promise of fear. The red lines of light moved swiftly toward them. “Take my hand,” Grace extended her arm, and Paul took the offered hand. He pulled hard, almost pulling her down. “Leave him,” Robert told her as his gaze took in their fate. “I won’t leave you,” she promised as she pulled on the large soldier. Cold hand. Dead hand. What was he now? Grace wasn’t sure, but if he could ask for mercy she would give it. She would not leave him behind. Warm hands fell on her shoulder and pushed at her gently. Dane. He moved her aside and took Paul’s hand. He spread his leg slightly apart for leverage and pulled on the soldier. Paul stood, unsteady at first, but let go of Dane and took a step. His knees buckled, but Dane grabbed him. Paul leaned on Dane, wrapping his arm around Dane’s shoulders for support. “This is never going to work, “Robert said. “We have to outrun those bastards.” “No we don’t,” Dane answered. “We’re taking the big guy’s boat.” With a nod toward the dock he threw his arm around Paul’s waist and turned in that direction. The AIM soldiers were still a block away, but moving in. To the right of them a thin, red beam of light appeared from around a building. “Grace, go!” Dane yelled, nodding in the direction of the dock. “Don’t shoot until you have to,” Paul said. “They know our target is here. They want her alive. They won’t shoot until they’ve secured her. Or unless they’re shot at.” Grace moved up with Dane and Paul, Robert flanking her, watching her back. Robert grabbed her hand, pulled her in front of the two men then let go, so he could help Dane carry Paul to the dock. The wood creaked under their weight. The fog carpeted the path and faith brought them to the boat. It was small, but big enough for all of them. They lowered Paul. Grace started to get in, but Dane held her back, shaking his head. “Robert, you get in next. Help Grace in.” “Don’t want her in there without you?” Robert’s sarcastic tone had no humor to it. “Not alone with him,” Dane glanced at Paul. “Not even for a second.” Robert got in and helped Grace in. She sat in the center of the boat, with Robert and Paul at the rear. Dane got in, his heavy bulk rocking the small boat until he settled in
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next to her. He had untied the boat from the dock and the small vessel began floating away. The sound of the motor caused Grace to turn around. It wasn’t loud, but the boat lurched forward as Robert started adding speed, and Grace had to steady herself. Dane’s arm came around her, pulling her close to his warmth, which she was about to need desperately. “How is it the motor works? I thought all electricity was off?” Grace asked. “When all electricity began to be delivered through frequencies, they discovered that different frequencies could hold only certain amounts of electricity,” Dane explained. “Larger cities have a different frequency of electricity than your rural areas. So does the military.” “I knew different frequencies held different amounts of electricity, but I didn’t know the military had their own.” She’d gone to school and knew how electricity worked, but according to what she was taught, the frequencies had to be delivered to a stationary region. Military had always ‘tapped into’ nearby frequencies. If they could shut down electricity where ever they wanted, but still have it for themselves, that would be a powerful weapon. She had no idea technology had advanced so much. It was working in their favor now. The boat was a military. The boat picked up speed, heading out into the ocean. The waves were choppy as the wind picked up. The motor was too small, the waves too choppy, and time wasn’t on their side. Grace wondered how far they’d go on water. “Where we headed?” Dane asked. “Presidio apartments.” “There are AIM solders there,” Grace told Robert. “There are AIM soldiers everywhere,” he answered, glancing at Paul. “How long will that take?” Grace asked. “Good point,” Dane said, looking at her. “We need to get off the water fast. They’ll still be looking for us.” “Bayside Village?” Robert asked. “That’s good,” Dane said and turned to Grace. “One of my homes is there.” Robert turned the boat and they headed southeast. Dane owned a home. More than one. The thought of it was extraordinary to her. She knew he was rich, should have figured he’d own land and homes, but other than the company she worked for, she didn’t personally know a land owner. It was rare that individuals were allowed to own personal homes and land. The government controlled the land ownership and had for almost 75 years. Many large corporations rented land from the government because they couldn’t afford to purchase it. All of Detroit was owned by the government. Before and after the attack. Her eyes were drawn to the shore. Fog and darkness went by in a blur. They raced across the sea at break-neck speed. “The fog isn’t bad out here,” Robert said. “We control the fog in San Francisco,” Paul offered. Dane and Grace turned in unison to look at him. Grace had known there was something about this fog that wasn’t natural.
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“We have a lot to talk about,” Dane told him, then turned back around, bringing Grace with him by pulling her close to his side. They remained quiet the few minutes it took to get to Bayside village. The village had become a private area for the rich and famous, of which Dane was both. There was a single dock in the area and Robert pulled them alongside it. Dane tied the boat and helped first Grace, then Paul to the dock. “We’re close,” Dane told them as he took her hand and scanned the area. “Be alert, Robert.” “I’m always on alert, Dane,” Robert assured him. “People in this area are wealthy,” Paul offered. Robert was helping him move, resigned to needing the soldier for information. “They have travel skills.” He looked at Grace as she checked on him. “People with travel skills need to be stopped. Anyone able to move is to be exterminated by the time the fog reaches six feet.” Grace immediately looked down. It was level with her chin. In less than an hour it would swallow her up. At the end of the dock they turned left. Dane took his gun out. Grace felt the weight of her gun on her body, on her conscience. She’d hold on to it, but it wouldn’t be more than a way to frighten someone off if it came down to it. She couldn’t use it. She knew that. Killing someone would change her in a way she couldn’t live with. She thought of the kitten. That was the Grace she had been. Now, she wasn’t sure who she was, but she wasn’t a killer. She could never be that. They stopped in front of a tall metal gate guarded by watchful gargoyles on tall cement pillars. The cement pillars were attached to a ten foot brick wall that went on forever. Dane’ home was a variable fortress, and she was instantly glad that he was a celebrity, requiring him to protect his privacy. Dane approached one of the pillars. Without electricity he had to use brute force to move the heavy gates open. The four of them walked through the gates. Robert scanned the area one last time before Dane closed them in. The house was enormous compared to other homes she’d seen. It had to have five bedrooms or more. It was a Victorian replica, which was very popular in the area. There was surprisingly little fog here at all. The gate was solid metal, the brick walls ten feet high. Somewhere the fog was getting in, but very little of it. Grace pulled in a lungful of fresh air. The thought of the fog being so thick, getting into her lungs, had frightened her. It had no odor. She’d been able to breathe it without any problems or discomfort, but the eerie white-gray fog wasn’t like normal San Francisco fog. It had substance to it, heavy, wet. Breathing better was just in her head she decided, but she took in a lungful of air as though she could exhale the fog from her body. Flowers. She had no idea what kind, but she knew the scent. Juliana had received flowers once from a client. She thought it might even have been from Mr. Miller, but there had been no card that accompanied them. They had been colorful. She thought they might be tulips, but she’d not studied flowers in a long time and had never received them herself. Once, she went to a funeral and there were daisies and roses.
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She’d been tempted to take a daisy home with her, but was too frightened to take it. She was the last person to leave. The funeral had been beautiful and she didn’t want to leave. In the end, the flowers remained untouched. No one would smell them but the undertaker. A gazebo, white like the house, stood to the right between the house and the brick wall. Benches inside invited people to stay and be comfortable. A birdhouse, made to resemble the main house, stood six feet in the air next to the gazebo. She wondered, briefly, what the place looked like in the day. Home. The word came and felt right. This was nothing like the company house. The company house was beautiful, very expensive with glass and chrome furnishings, the latest technological wonders and climate controlled interior. But, it had never felt like home in all the years she worked there. It was functional. Like her. She was content there, but it wasn’t home. To the left there was nothing but thick bushes, a palm tree among them. That was where the smell came from. There were flowers in the bushes, and the smell was divine. She wondered what color they were and wished there was more light than just the moon and their glowsticks. Running a path along that side of the house she noticed the tulips. A cement pathway started at the side of the house beside the palm tree and disappeared out of sight along the house. Tinkling bells, light and melodic, drew her attention to the extended porch in front of the house. Wind chimes, small and metal hung out in front of the porch. There were three, strategically placed along the length of the porch, all moving slowly, making music. The sound made her think of Dane’s music and a smile curved her lips. “You like it?” Dane stood beside her. He seemed to hold his breath, waiting. “It’s beautiful,” she nodded and cast her gaze from him. His nearness was personal somehow and she was very aware of his large frame next to her smaller one. She became aware of her appearance, disheveled and in need of clean clothes. She became warm under his close regard and lost all ability to speak. Heavy footsteps called them out of their private moment, and Grace ran to help Robert with Paul up the few steps of the front porch. She offered her shoulder, but Dane gently moved her aside and put Paul’s arm around his neck. Robert and Dane carried the wounded soldier inside. Dane disappeared upstairs, and then came back with candles. They only lit a few, keeping the lights in the house to a minimum. But, Dane built a fire in the fireplace. With the growing fog and fires burning across the city, the smoke from the fireplace was less likely to draw attention and was worth the risk in order to warm them. Robert put Paul on the couch and went outside to check the area and find a way to bar the gates. It wouldn’t keep AIM soldiers out, but it would keep looters out. They hadn’t heard voices in the area, but it was only a matter of time until someone thought to come to the richest part of the city for loot. “There’s food in the kitchen,” Dane said. Grace stood next to Paul, trying to assess his wounds and determine what she could do. “I’m not hungry,” she said as she crouched down next to Paul, putting her arm on the side of the couch to hold her balance.
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Paul’s gaze never left her. His human eye held emotion. The other one was dark, dead and no longer of use to him. The metal had pulled away from his face leaving streaks of blood, like tears, drying on his cheek. Without thought she reached out to touch his face with gentle fingers. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. His skin was cold, but it was human. A light sprinkling of whiskers attested that he still functioned like a human. Like a man. His military haircut was in need of attention. His coal black hair was the same color as Dane’s. His eye was brown, but a deeper brown than Dane’s. Dane’s was a soft brown. Paul’s was almost black. His lips weren’t as full as Dane’s but looked soft. “Does it hurt?” She asked as her fingertips touched feather-soft beside the metal on his face. “You’re soft.” Paul didn’t seem to hear her question. Grace stopped her slow caress, and her hand hovered just above his skin. “Don’t stop,” he said. “She sure as hell is going to stop,” Dane stood behind her, tall and ominous. “Grace, get away from him.” “He needs medical attention,” she tried to sound unaffected by Dane’s harsh tone, but her hand went to her side, her gaze went to the front door, looking but not seeing. “Are you a doctor?” Sarcasm poured out of every note in his voice as he spoke to her. “I’m a doctor,” Paul volunteered. “Or at least I was once.” “You mean until you were put in prison and turned into a zombie soldier?” Dane was furious. Grace shouldn’t be so close to an AIM soldier. The man could be dangerous. What was she thinking? “I was never a prisoner.” “What?” Grace looked into Paul’s face. “So you volunteered to be AIM?” Dane asked. “Never.” Venom. Anger. Hurt. “Were you in the military?” Grace asked. “I was a military surgeon for four years. I was asked to work on a project.” He stopped, a line forming on his brow as he fought for a memory. “I don’t know how long ago.” His eye fell imploringly on Grace. Pain etched his once handsome face. “What project?” Dane wouldn’t let up. “Genetics,” Paul struggled again for the answers hidden deep inside of him. “They wanted me to do something with genetics, but I refused. It was top secret, I refused it, and to shut me up they did this.” His hand touched the metal on his face. Silence filled the room. Grace looked at Dane, but his face was a mask that hid his emotions. “I don’t believe you,” Dane told him. His voice was level, but his body had become rigid. “Why not?” Grace believed Paul was telling the truth. She could feel it. “Look at him,” Dane glanced from her to Paul and back. “He’s an AIM soldier, Grace. He would have killed us…you, if the government told him to.” “You can hear the difference in his voice. See it in his face.” Grace felt
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desperation creep into her heart. How could Dane be so blind? “I don’t know,” Dane shook his head slowly. Grace felt the heat of anger course through her veins. For the first time all day she was warm. It started from the inside, radiated outwardly and soon it would spill over into the room. “Because you can see what they did to him on the outside?” Grace tried to keep her voice level. “Is he so different from you? Look what they did to you. Do you want to be punished for something the government did to you?” Dane turned and one step put him so close to her she had to crane her neck back to see his face. “I am punished for it,” he said, his breath coming in and out so quick she could hear it. “Every time I go somewhere I have to report where I am. If it weren’t for Stephanie, they’d have turned me into what he is.” She couldn’t keep the shock from her face. There was so much about Dane she didn’t know. He was wealthy. He was famous, but who knew he was lonely? Who knew he was watched closely by the government because he’d been an experiment gone awry? What else didn’t she know about Thomas Dane? “I’m being punished right now,” Dane’s voice fell to a whisper, “I want to take you up upstairs, and claim you with my body, Grace. I want you more than any woman I’ve ever known. I feel the lust. Hell, I feel anger. But, when I take you,” his voice dropped lower, “And I will have you, Grace. What will I feel?” A tear spilled and ran down her cheek. The pain in his voice struck her at her very core. Did he want to love her? Or would anyone do? He spoke as though he were angry with her for what had happened to him. “It’s not my fault,” she whispered back. “No, Grace, it isn’t,” he assured her. “It’s not your fault, not mine and not his. But it doesn’t matter who’s at fault here. What matters is that the government changed us into what we are now and it can’t be undone. I will never feel love for a woman. And he will always be an AIM soldier.” He glanced at Paul, whose body had gone on alert at the tones he heard spoken toward Grace. “Look at him, Grace,” Dane continued. “He’d kill me right now if he thought he could. And no matter how much tender care you offer to either of us, it will never be enough to change what we’ve become.” She wanted to deny it. She wanted to scream at him, something that would make him understand her frustration, her desperation, to have life be different than what it was now. But there were no words that would work. He had hurt her with what he said, with the way he said it. With the truth of it. He could be wrong. He didn’t know everything. She needed to prove that to him. As she put her arm around his neck and brought herself up to his lips she thought he was wrong. His body stirred and a desperate moan escaped him when their lips touched.
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Chapter 12 Kissing Dane was all about senses, all about pleasure she’d never experienced before. He’d freshened up when he was upstairs looking for candles. His shirt, a soft flannel, smelled clean like air after the rain. He smelled of sandalwood, from a scented candle or cologne she wasn’t sure because it was so faint. Dane ate tiny spearmint candies that he had in his pack, and she loved the way it tasted. Her tongue ran velvet smooth across his, and she smiled inwardly, knowing her breath would now smell of spearmint. His warmth made her body ache. He leaned against her, his arms bringing her so close she could feel his need. The closer he was, the more her body ached for him. She waited for fear to overtake her. Fear of the unknown, fear of being inexperienced, fear of being told that he would have her, but it didn’t come. Instead the world fell away, the warmth was a cloud she lived in, and Thomas Dane was the center of the universe. The front door opened and a cold wind walked in with Robert. Grace pulled away, unaffected by the cold, or the intrusion. The embarrassment of being caught, of knowing Paul saw the whole display, was cast into the warmth of her desire for Dane, and it melted there like ice. Robert looked at Dane, rolled his eyes heavenward, then glanced at Paul. He went very still. Grace’s gasp brought Dane around to see Paul grasping a large hunting knife. “I thought you checked him?” Dane cast the question over his shoulder at Robert. “I did,” Robert replied. “He’s a stealthy bastard isn’t he?” “What are you doing, Paul?” `Grace kept her voice steady. “I was afraid he would hurt you.” `Paul lowered the knife, tucked it back inside a pocket at the side of his pants. “Oh no you don’t.” `Robert walked over with his hand extended. “Give that here.” Paul looked at Dane for a long moment. “I don’t like how you talk to her,” Paul said. “Like I give a damn?” `Dane had pulled his gun, as well. “Give it to Robert,” Grace instructed Paul. Paul pulled the knife out, all the while looking at Dane. He turned the sharp blade and gave the handle to Robert. Grace let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her shoulders relaxed. This night was far from over. “You said that the fog belonged to you,” Robert put the big knife into his pack. “What did you mean by that?” Grace walked away. The testosterone was stifling and she needed to be away from the men for a moment. She pulled a chair next to the fireplace and watched the flames dancing in the hearth. Their voices carried in the big house and she could easily
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hear each word. “We’ve put bio-weapons all over the city,” Paul began, “they’re filled with what’s called Fool’s Gold.” “We know that much,” Dane said. “We have machines at each post and within the city at central locations that make the fog. As it gathers it becomes heavier. It will encompass the entire city before it’s over.” “What’s the purpose of the fog?” Robert asked. “It holds the Fool’s Gold in place so it doesn’t affect other areas,” he explained. “The bacteria are contained there until it changes into something harmless.” “I remember someone saying something about fog at Detroit,” Dane said. “Yes. Here it isn’t so odd, but in Detroit it was obvious.” Robert took a seat in the rocking chair near the couch and Grace could hear him moving back and forth. She wondered if he realized he was rocking. She wondered if it soothed him. “Other countries use it, not many, but some of the more technologically advanced,” Paul told them. “What would happen if there was no fog?” Grace asked, continuing to stare into the fire. “It’s a delivery system. The cases that hold the bacteria explode, but the explosion won’t damage much. That wouldn’t be good for the price of the city,” Paul answered. “Without the fog they can’t control how far the bacteria will go. It’s too risky.” “How many of those machines are there?” Dane asked. “Ten. They’re the size of a train car. They’re heavily guarded.” Paul’s voice was guarded, almost monotone. “Do you know where they’re placed?” Robert stood up and began to pace. “Yes, but they’re too far spread apart. The four of us could never take them out.” “How much time do we have?” Robert asked. “Seven hours.” Grace stood, but remained by the fireplace. “Give or take. I think they’re set to go off at 3 a.m.” “That’s what I got too,” Dane said. “3 AM is correct,” Paul confirmed. “How are you guys keeping all of this under wraps? San Francisco is huge.” Robert took a seat again, rocking, then leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I was able to get a phone signal on the Golden Gate,” Dane shared. “That’s right,” Grace walked toward them. “I tried again at the Presidio, but nothing worked.” “If you’d kept going you would have found a check point at the end of the bridge. They must have been in transition of shutting down signals and installing their own. The government has already announced to the world that terrorists have San Francisco hostage. No one can call in, come in, or leave. According to news reports, San Francisco is already infected. No one really knows what’s happening, but they’ll not take a chance on getting infected,” Paul told them. His dark eye found Grace. “If you’d have gotten to the other side of the Golden Gate, they would have taken her and most likely killed you.”
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“Why? Why me?” Grace stood next to Dane. “I don’t know the answer to that,” Paul said, “But, it has something to do with that executive from Infinity, Inc. Juliana Miles. I know that much. They want you pretty bad.” “That’s all you know?” Dane asked. So close to him she could feel the tension. “I know she’s dying.” The comment seemed like a memory he had just pulled forth. His gaze went to her, troubled, sad. “Miss Miles knows something about your …” he struggled again to recall, “brain tumor. It has to do with headsets her company is making for the government.” “Anything else you’d like to conveniently recall?” Dane sounded angry, but his expression said nothing. “Dane,” Grace placed her hand on Dane’s forearm, “you shot him in the head. Give him a break. He’s doing the best he can.” She said it evenly, but her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if the men could hear it. “It hit metal,” Dane’s arm moved, his hand found hers. “It didn’t kill him.” “From what I’ve overheard Juliana and General Willis say, Grace was experimented on using her headset.” Paul looked from Dane to Grace. “That’s really all I can remember right now. If anything else comes back to me I’ll tell you.” Paul began rubbing his forehead. “Do you have something for his head?” Grace’s voice was so faint, so small, she wasn’t sure anyone had heard her. “Something for pain?” “You’re told that your brain tumor might be the result of an experiment, and you’re worried about his headache?” Dane’s voice was as quiet as hers, almost a whisper. His face displayed emotions she didn’t recognize or understand. “His headache can be fixed,” she said. “I’ll get something. I need some water,” Robert volunteered. “Don’t drink out of the tap,” Paul warned. “It isn’t safe anymore. It’ll put you to sleep.” “Bottled water in the fridge, Rob,” Dane told him. Robert disappeared into the kitchen. Paul closed his eyes, and rested his head on the back of the couch. Grace could only guess at the amount of pain he had to be in. He’d been shot in the head, his face was torn from metal, and he’d gotten some of his human memories back. It had to be hell. “He isn’t a kitten,” Dane’s voice was soft, but held a note of warning. “No, I know that.” She leaned against him and was rewarded as his arms came around to hold her closer. “But we can save him.” “We?” “I meant me,” she corrected, shaking her head, chastising herself. “I meant me.” Dane wanted to say something, but Robert came in with the water and pills and he knew he’d have to wait. “Paul.” Robert handed the pills to him and then the water. Paul took them and laid back to rest. “What do you know about Stephanie Rose?” Robert asked. “Not my assignment,” Paul answered, his eyes still shut.
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“That’s not what I asked.” The threat was there and Paul’s body went rigid at the tone. “I know she was a target. But that’s all I know. Like I said, she wasn’t my assignment.” “Whose assignment was she?” Robert wouldn’t give up. Not ever. “Charlie Team. They’re recovery. Grace was assigned to them, too. We all get pictures put into our headsets so we recognize targets, but Charlie Team was sent out to find certain…targets.” “What was your assignment?” Dane asked. “Juliana Miles.” Paul grimaced. “Transport and safety for Juliana Miles.” “You didn’t accompany her to her destination?” Dane asked. “Couldn’t stand her,” Paul answered. “AIM soldiers don’t have opinions,” Dane told him. “Yeah, well … I still couldn’t stand her.” “Where did she go?” Grace asked. If she found Juliana maybe she could stop the brain tumor, and buy herself more than six months. “Land base on Embarcadero,” Paul said. He turned thoughtful. “We should get her. Maybe she can help you.” Then he looked at Robert. “Stephanie Rose could be there. She could be at the command base.” “Where’s the command base?” Dane asked. “On a ship near Treasure Island.” “We’ve got to get going,” Robert said. “Where? To Embarcadero or Treasure Island?” Dane asked. “We can’t make it to both places in seven hours.” Robert pulled out Paul’s headset. “This might tell us more, but it’ll take me a few minutes to get it to work for us.” “I can plug in and make it work,” Paul offered. “Can they kill you with that?” Dane asked. “Not with a headset.” Paul paused. “But, they could find me with it.” “We can’t have that,” Robert said as he put the headset on the table next to him and began to work on it. “I can help,” Paul offered. “I don’t need your help.” Robert wouldn’t look at him. “If I help we can get it done faster. We can use it to listen in, and as a homing device.” “Let him help,” Grace said. “Please.” Robert nodded, and Paul moved slowly to the end of the couch so he could work on the headset. “We’ll get more weapons and supplies,” Dane told them. She followed him upstairs, with a last look back to Robert and Paul. Paul glanced at her, seeming to know her gaze had found him. He disappeared out of sight as she reached the top of the stairs. “Let’s get you one of my sweatshirts or sweaters, a scarf,” Dane slowed his pace, and she almost ran into him as she turned from looking at Paul. “What else do you
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want?” His voice had changed, alerting her. “Want?” she asked. Dane nodded and put his arm around her back. He pulled her close, but continued to walk slowly, backward. He leaned down to nuzzle her ear as they passed through an open doorway into a bedroom. The scent of sandalwood was strong in this room. “What did I tell you I was going to do?” Dane’s breath tickled her ear and sent shivers down her spine. He stopped long enough to shut the door. A single candle lit the room and Grace knew it was Dane’s room. The world spun, she spun, the light moved, the room moved and she found herself falling onto Dane’s bed, with him on top of her. He wasn’t heavy, but he was very warm. He filled her vision, her senses, her mind. The bed was the soft, and she sank into it. The blankets were thick and curtains hung from the four post bed. “We haven’t much time,” he sounded apologetic, “But we’ll not leave here until I’ve had you.” He started kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her jaw. “Not until I’ve heard you call my name.” The tone of his voice did something to her. Her insides grew hot, her mind couldn’t concentrate on any one thing. Wetness pooled between her legs. She was hot there and an ache she’d never known began to take root as he moved his hips, caressing her. All of her senses cascaded into one; touch. Her skin was alive and every molecule yearned to feel his touch. He left a path of heat and flame down her neck with his lips. His elbows rested on either side of her arms. His fingers ran along her scalp as he let them tangle in her hair. He grasped the hair in his hands and tugged gently, firmly, until her head came back, giving him greater access to the sensitive skin of her throat. He was everywhere. All around her. His large frame covered her. His hips ground into her. Slow. Rhythmic. Hard. He was firmly ensconced between her legs and her mind cried out over and over for release. Please. Please. “Please,” the chant inside her mind found a voice. Hers. “Please, what?” He spoke into her ear, kissed her lobe and let her go. He looked down at her. He was a big man. Over six feet tall. His dark hair and dark eyes gave him an exotic look. She’d never seen anyone so beautiful. So incredible. The evidence of his desire couldn’t be ignored. Or denied. Her gaze took him in as he sat up and removed his shirt. His wide chest, his heavily muscled arms and rock hard stomach called out to be touched. Something primal overtook her. Her mind in a haze, she sat up and reached out to touch him. Her fingers rested on his chest. His heart beat there beneath her touch, hard and fast. She’d never touched a man before. His skin was like hers, but somehow different. Harder. A light sprinkling of hair tickled her sensitive fingertips. She rested her palm on his skin and let her hand run slowly, smoothly, down his chest to his stomach. Lines and ridges defined his abdomen, and she took her time to feel each one. Her finger lingered at his navel then moved lower, to stop at the top of his jeans. “I’ve never touched a man before,” she whispered. She let her hand run over the soft material, over the bulge that claimed her curiosity.
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His hands came into view. Beautiful hands. Capable hands. Large hands. He unbuttoned the top of his jeans. He placed her hand there at the zipper, and slowly she unveiled him. Dark blue underwear stood in her way. She needed to know what he looked like. What he felt like. Her hand cupped him and he gasped. She removed her hand, unsure. “Don’t stop,” Dane whispered, “I like that.” Before she could touch him again, he moved away, looking into her eyes. “What do you know about making love, Grace?” His voice was calm, but she could see his heartbeat at the side of his throat, moving fast and hard. One hand rested on top of her thigh and caressed slowly. “I know the mechanics of it,” her voice dropped to a soft whisper. She knew so little. All about mechanics and nothing about pleasure. She was heady with a mix of heated passion and utter fear coursing through her. “This is going to be about you,” he promised as he leaned into her and brushed a soft kiss below her ear, “this time.” His lips pulled on her lobe, gently sucking. His tongue was heated velvet as it flicked across the sensitive lobe and trailed down below her ear to the pulse at her throat. Sensations overwhelmed her. Her nipples tightened. Heat between her legs called the wetness forth. Her legs parted, the tension rising, the need demanding. She gasped as he pulled her closer to his body, fitting her opened legs on either side of him. The scent of her need perfumed the air and she heard him breathe deeply. “I’m going to put my hands on you, Grace,” he whispered. “I’m going to touch you in places where no one has touched you before.” He nuzzled her neck, working his way back to whisper in her ear. His hand touched her breast, his breath exhaled slow and hot into her ear as his thumb caressed the hardened nipple. “I’m going to make you feel things. Things that will make you warm.” He gently pinched the nipple and her body bucked forward at the unexpected pleasure it brought. “Things that are going to make you wet.” His voice mesmerized her senses. His breath caressed her skin. A voice to make love to. It held her enthralled, cocooned inside a private world of pleasure. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. You should be kissed and it should matter. She burned to kiss him. Her hands brought his face up to hers where his gaze searched her own, looking for her need, her desire. His lips were inviting, calling to her. Her pink tongue wet her lips and she touched them to his. Soft. Experimental. Needy. She opened her mouth to catch his bottom lip between her own. Her tongue ran over the soft flesh, tasting him. She pulled away, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t move. His gaze held her still. His eyes focused on her mouth and a finger came up to caress, first the top, then the bottom lip. He kissed her, his finger between them, feeling the connection. He lowered his hand to grasp hers and brought her finger to their lips. He placed it along his lower lip as he pressed them to her. The heat of their mouths was liquid fire. Soft tongues caressed within the dance and she moved her finger to feel their mingling, coupling, his tongue moving in and out of her mouth. He slowly pulled away leaving her hand suspended in the air, longing for his to
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return. He took it again, placing it on his cheek, caressing her hand with his skin. His eyes closed for a moment. “You like kissing me, don’t you Grace?” Slowly his eyes opened. “You like it when I kiss you?” Her heart almost stopped as his velvet-soft voice conflicted with the fiery desire reflected in his eyes. She heard the click in his throat as he swallowed hard. The muscles of his hard abdomen clenched as though he could control his breathing there. Everything was held in suspense awaiting her answer. “Yes,” floated in the air. He let go of her hand, moving both of his to her face where he caressed her cheeks, jaw, neck He slowed as his hand moved over her shoulders, down to her breasts where they lingered, his gaze heating her there as he watched his hands move on her body. He took the bottom of her sweater and paused. He glanced at her just before he pulled it from her body. Her skin, so sensitive and alive, became acutely aware of the cold, despite the roaring fire in the living room below. Gooseflesh covered her skin in protest, but Dane’s warm hands began to move across her exposed flesh, warming her skin as he touched her, leaving her hot and wanting as they left. “You’ll be warm soon,” he promised as his hands caressed the length of her arms. She nodded, unable to speak. Heat. Cold. Alive. Her senses were confused, her mind overwhelmed. But, she didn’t want it to stop. A gasp escaped her as his hand cupped her left breast. His lips replaced his hand and he kissed her hardened nipple through the soft cotton material of her bra. An electric jolt of pleasure ran through her body and nestled between her legs. Her hands grabbed his hair. Pull or push? Stay or stop? He moved to take in the other nipple. Another jolt of pleasure caused a throbbing at the juncture between her thighs. She looked down at him when he stopped. His gaze found her, held there, searching before he spoke. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” he instructed. “What are you thinking?” “You.” A breathy whisper, a single word. It was all she could manage. A satisfied smile told her she’d done well with her answer. He rewarded her by moving his hand beneath the material of her bra and kneading her soft flesh. His gaze remained, watching her. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he promised. “Every inch of you.” His hands moved expertly to remove her jeans. He backed away so he could pull them off and he tossed them behind him. As he stood he peeled his jeans from his body, leaving the briefs in place. Grace tried to control her breathing as she watched him undress. She no longer felt cold, though she was sure it wasn’t any warmer in the room. The dark underwear clung to his muscular body. Her attention caught on the bulge there. Hard ridges were covered in soft cloth. Near the top of his underwear the head of his engorged penis protruded. The skin was so tight that it shined when the candle light flickered there. A small drop of moisture, a teardrop, sat in the very top,
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waiting to fall. The feeling of being outside her body was like a dream. Her hand touched the material of his underwear. It was warm. He was warm. The softness of the material was in stark contrast to the hardness beneath. Her hand started low on his shaft and caressed upward, toward the exposed flesh. The tip of her finger hit the small band of his underwear and hesitated. Her index finger moved away from the rest, upward, painstakingly slow until she felt the smooth flesh of him. The small droplet ran to meet the inquisitive finger, pooled where finger met flesh and she caught it. She brought the wetness closer to her face, into the light for inspection, rubbing it between index finger and thumb until it was sticky. His movement broke the spell and he was suddenly there kneeling before her. “Have you ever tasted a man before?” His fingers encircled her wrist and he brought her hand closer to him. He put her index finger into his mouth, heat swirled with his tongue, wet and inviting. Then he was kissing her. His tongue held the taste of him, salty, tangy, sweet. He pressed her back against the mattress, blanketing her with his large body. She felt him everywhere. His hands roaming the contours of her body, warming her breasts, traveling down to cup her bottom and pull her closer. Her legs were pushed to either side of his hips by his weight, by her need. The hardness of him pressed into her heat, begging for flesh on flesh, flesh in flesh. “Now it’s my turn to taste you,” Dane whispered in her ear. As he kissed a hot path down her body he stopped to nibble on each hardened nipple. His hands ran beneath her back to unhook her bra. He removed it, rubbing his face on the soft flesh of her breasts, suckling her. Bite. Lick. Heat. Moving lower he kissed the softness of her belly. His hands came up to the waistband of her simple white cotton panties. As he peeled away her underwear his mouth moved lower. He licked the tender skin above her hairline. His knees settled on the floor and he spread her legs wider to accommodate his shoulders. His hands caressed her body, her thighs. Grace held her breath as his head dipped lower to nuzzle the soft curly hair of her mound. The comforter of his bed was cold in her hands as she gripped it. Her teeth that had chattered with cold now clenched in hope of suppressing a moan. “Don’t be afraid, Grace.” Dane moved up to caress his cheek against her lower abdomen. “I won’t hurt you.” The pressure of his hands on her thighs caused her to gaze at him. “If it becomes too much to bear … say my name.” His tone was so low she felt it vibrate through her body. The melody of it echoed in her mind, soothing her. Say my name. The echo mixed with the sound of her breathing and it died away as he caressed the soft curls below. Time stopped and she lived inside a cocoon of heated pleasure as his large hands spread her wider, and his tongue pressed against the gentle lips of her passion with a long, slow caress. An electric rush of passion and heat centered where his mouth met her feminine flesh. His hands moved to stroke her abdomen, the soft curls between her legs, her thighs, all the while his tongue probed and caressed. Her hips moved as her need increased. His hands moved along the inside of her
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thighs. His finger slid through the folds of flesh to caress her and entered her slowly as his tongue became more demanding. Harder. Faster. Deeper. His tongue moved in circles at the pinnacle of her need. He deepened his kiss as his finger slid farther inside her. She felt the barrier there, the pressure, the pain. His mouth sucked her in, his tongue swirling in time with a slow rhythm of his finger, moving in and out, going deeper, against the barrier. The heat became the central point of her universe. The pleasure became unbearable, but she wasn’t ready for it to stop. Pressure built inside her body, building in time with her deepening breaths, building with the stroke of his tongue, of his finger. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. Pain. He moaned into her flesh and the bass notes vibrated through her, taking her over the edge, slicing through her in a single flash of light behind her eyes. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. A wave of overwhelming ecstasy rolled over her body again and again, causing her legs to shake and her heart to stop as she drew breath. Soft hair in her fists. Dane’s hair. When had she done that? She let go, panting, wondering if what she had done was appropriate. Was right. Was good. Her body still craved. Something. Dane’s body slid up hers until his face hovered over hers. She lay still, feeling the effects of her first orgasm. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his skin across her body. His heart beat hard against her chest. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet.” His smile was wicked and sent butterflies to flight in her stomach. “I still have to make you say my name.” Was she supposed to say his name? She felt unsure. She had fought the urge to cry out, afraid the others would hear her. Dane’s hair. She’d lost control, but didn’t remember it. Her fists had held the comforter, then she woke and they held Dane’s hair. She couldn’t trust herself to stay in control. “What if I can’t?” Fear of her vulnerability, her lack of experience, her need to be worthy, caused the room to feel cold again. His expression softened as his gaze searched her face. He planted small kisses over her face before kissing her long and deep. The cold vanished. The hardness of him surrounded her, the scent of him, the feel of him. His underwear was gone. Somewhere in the madness of her passion she missed him removing them. What if I can’t? Her fear warred with her need. He reached between them and opened the folds of her feminine flesh and placed his shaft just inside those folds. He removed his hand and began to caress her with his hardness. The sensitive spot he had ravished with his tongue came to life in an instant. The friction built heat and pressure within her. “What are you thinking, Grace?” He asked. His strokes were long and slow. The haze lifted from within her mind. She was still unsure, but she didn’t want it to stop. Say my name. She wanted to give him pleasure like he did to her. But her control was slight at best. If she were to say anything she would be lost in the insanity of the feelings he gave her. She wanted to fulfill his request, but she wasn’t sure she could. “What If I can’t?” She couldn’t say more. The rhythm of his strokes called to her senses. Her body wanted all attention to focus on what he was doing.
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His hips moved, the tip of his penis held still at her entrance. Slowly he moved the large head inside her. An inch at a time. Filling her. “Don’t worry, Grace,” he whispered in ragged breaths and buried himself inside her, “you’ll say it.” Her back arched off the bed. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. Pain. Her hips bucked forward of their own accord. The discomfort of her lost virginity was forgotten as his mouth claimed her breast. He filled her, he surrounded her. He was the universe. The thrusts became deeper, slower, as he concentrated, felt for something inside her. “I can feel it,” he whispered. He moved his hips, the head of his penis held at the entrance of her body. He lowered his hips and placed his left hand beneath her, to elevate her hip. “What do you feel?” She asked as her mind became lost in the sensation of his touch. “This,” he said as he surged forward, bringing her hips toward him. The feeling was incredible. He moved in and out, over and over that same place inside her until she fought back the scream. Nothing could prepare her for this. No amount of training. Her body was being consumed by its need for his. She would do anything to keep him inside of her. The building tension of pleasure throbbed each time he surged forward, each time he withdrew. No Control. Her breath caught in her throat as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Her shoulders arched and her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. Closer. Deeper. More. His breathing was erratic. Sweat beaded his brow. He kissed her neck, her ear, her lips. “Look at me,” he demanded. The desperation lived there in his gaze. The vulnerability she felt was reflected there as his control slipped away. The heat rose inside her, consumed her. She couldn’t breathe. A moan lodged in her throat as he drove deep insider her. Dane. He controlled the heat. Dane. It was too much. Too hot. The pleasure overflowed in a powerful charge. “Dane,” the name was called out into the quiet room. Her voice. Her need. Dane. A ragged cry, low in his throat joined her voice, echoing their pleasure as he spilled his seed inside her. Her body shook again and again. The waves of pleasure wouldn’t stop. She fought for breath, and in that moment insanity met with pleasure, leaving her vulnerable to the universe. His cheek rested against hers. His breath blew soft in her ear as he rested. His heart hammered against his ribs, against her chest. No one had ever touched her. No one had ever wanted to touch her. She’d loved a kitten once. It was the only love she’d ever known. Perhaps the only love she would ever know. Taught to ignore others, not to interact. No friends. No family. The greatest pleasure she would know came from a man who she’d always thought to hate. Life was
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full of surprises. And the tears that ran down her face were one of them. “Did I hurt you?” Dane’s soft voice only caused more tears. “No,” she whispered. How could she make him understand? Hell, she didn’t even understand. “Are you sorry?” The tone had changed and she looked at him. “Don’t be sorry, Grace.” The great Thomas Dane, inventor of the Emotion Chip, winner of every kind of award a musician and actor could win, held his breath as wetness pooled in her eyes. “I’m not sorry, Dane,” her whispered promise soothed her as it was meant to sooth him. “I could never be anything but grateful.” “Then why tears?” he asked. “It’s just that,” she couldn’t look at him as she whispered. “It was so beautiful. More than I imagined it would be. I’m being silly.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. “Tell me.” She turned her head to look at him. His beautiful face, his eyes shining in the candlelight took her breath away. “All my life I’ve tried to see the lies our society has grown to accept, to embrace. I’ve told myself that I’m different because I could see the lies.” A catch in her voice caused her to pause. “I thought someday I would be able to be like Stephanie, exposing the lies, and not living them. But I’m a coward. I know I have six months to live, and all those things that were so important didn’t matter anymore. But they do matter. My dying won’t change that.” “You’re not a coward, Grace,” he started, but she interrupted him. “I am. Because I sold out. I let Juliana scare me into hiding when I watched or listened to Stephanie. I’ve spent these last few weeks going to funerals, fantasizing that they were my funeral, my family, my flowers. I don’t have six months to die. I have six months to live. And I’ve been throwing it away, feeling sorry for myself. Letting myself believe the lies because they’re pretty. And just a moment ago I saw it happen again. I let it happen. I wanted it to happen. And Dane, I believed it.” “What? What lie?” He caressed her cheek and wiped her tears. “I believed that you loved me,” her whispered confession caused a pain in his chest. “I felt it. I let it be real. And it’s just another lie. Nothing has changed. I am a coward. I want the lie to be true.” Something akin to fear stole over him. He couldn’t love her. Somehow that harmed her, just as it had harmed him all of his life. If they survived this, she would go away. She would never agree to live a lie. The knot in his chest unraveled, letting pain flow freely through his body. When this was over she would be gone. In six months, she would be gone. And everything inside of him cried out to stop it.
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Chapter 13 She was warmer, but only on the outside. Dane had found some of Stephanie’s clothes in the guest room and she now wore a white, woolen sweater, much like the one she had on earlier. The scent of coffee and chocolate met her at the top of the stairs and her stomach protested her lack of nourishment. She took the steps at a faster pace, hoping the men hadn’t downed it all. Her body still felt alive from Dane’s lovemaking. Another lungful of air and she smiled at how something so simple, even at a time like this, could give her pleasure. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to see what the men were doing when she halted, frozen in her place. She wanted to cry out, to scream for help, but there was no one that could help her. The living room was full of armed men. Her gaze searched the room for her friends, for answers, for death. Ten to fifteen men stood before her. They were dressed in street clothes, some dirty and some wet. Many wore knit hats, black with three blue bars, vertical across the front. They were silent. Waiting. One had on sunglasses, and he moved forward, leaving a gaping hole in the cluster of bodies and she saw Dane sitting on the couch behind them. His hands were behind his back and blood had dried at his lip. His gaze warned her, but she could only look on in confusion and horror. Paul sat next to Dane, but she could barely see him. He was tied up like Dane and would have a huge black eye soon if the swelling was any indication. She couldn’t see Robert, but many of the men stood in front of the couch, blocking her view. She could only hope that he was alive. Her attention was drawn back to the man with sunglasses. He was big, his t-shirt too tight and torn, filthy, and wet in areas. His pants were military, but these weren’t military soldiers. Most of them were too thin, too dirty, and too haunted to be military. Rebels. She had heard of people who lived below the city, below the train system, but, until today, she’d never been close to one, and had doubted their existence. As he approached she could see scars on his face. He was different than the rest. The scars were jagged and long, white and thick. Dangerous. It wasn’t his scars or clothes or even his size that frightened her. It was the way he walked, stalking her, like a predator. “If you have a weapon, I suggest you hand it over,” he said. His voice was harsh, as though his throat hurt. “If I find any on you, I’ll use it on your friends behind me.” “I don’t have anything.” Her voice sounded small in her ears. A woman walked through the men to stand next to the warrior. Warrior. She knew that was right. Something about him reminded her of Paul. Paul was a warrior.
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Maybe he hadn’t been in the beginning, but they’d made him into one. She wasn’t much taller than Grace. Her dark hair shone streaks of red in black and it curled softly around her beautiful face. Her hair was the only thing that looked soft. Pursed lips and obsidian eyes gave her the look of someone jaded and ill used. Muscles on her bare arms spoke of labor and scars there and on her neck spoke of hardship. “Grayson,” she glanced at the man with the sunglasses. “Take her and let’s go.” Grace’s heart beat hard and a flood of anxiety raced through her. She didn’t want Grayson to touch her. She wanted Dane. She wanted to know what these people wanted and what was expected of her. “Dane,” she called to him, unsure if she’d be punished for it. “What do I do?” A feminine laugh, short and harsh, rang out. “Like you have a choice.” Grace glanced at the woman, but found nothing in her expression that would give away what she wanted. Contempt etched on her face took away the beauty. The woman looked Hispanic, or partially so. Grace tried to see something there she could relate to, something that might tell her that this woman could offer mercy or help. Nothing. “Get our …” A sharp jab with the butt of a rifle stopped Dane from finishing. Get our … ? Grace looked around the living room as she walked the last few steps to the door. On the coffee table were several items, with Dane’s and Robert’s empty packs. She hesitated. Grayson’s cold hand encircled her upper arm. The grip bit into her and he yanked her toward the front door. She tried to pull away, but his hand was a vice. “I need to get my gear,” she told him. She had to try. “Let me have my things.” She pulled her arm and was rewarded with a tighter grip. The bruising would be extensive. “Let her have her things,” Dane said to the girl. “You want some cooperation from us? Don’t hurt the girl. Don’t be an asshole.” “You’ve gone through our things,” Paul spoke out. “You know what’s there. Let her have what she wants. You say you’re the ‘good guys,’ so prove it.” Grayson brought her into the midst of the men. She could have reached out and touched Dane if she thought they wouldn’t punish her for it. Looking at the far end of the couch, she saw Robert, looking much like the other two men. Blood trickled from his nose and his knuckles were bleeding. “Lisa,” Grayson called her attention, “No time.” Grayson was used to giving orders, but, here, he didn’t seem to be in charge. His tone said he’d push the envelope. Lisa gazed at the tall man, her distaste for him on her face, but was quickly hidden away. She wrinkled her nose as though there was a foul smell in the room. Her face went slack as she turned her gaze to Grace. “Get your stuff. Hurry up.” Cold, dark eyes went back to Grayson, daring him to say something. The vice at her arm held for a moment and the tension was palpable in the room. Grace looked at Dane. His body was rigid, his eyes watching the interaction between the two.
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Grayson let go. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She grabbed the biggest pack, Dane’s. Many of the items on the table were foreign to her. Camping gear. Was that where Dane was headed when they met? Not to the graveyard, but to the airport? Grace had never personally known anyone who went camping. Not even the executives at Infinity could afford such a luxury. Not all of the items would fit. She picked up the half empty box of chemical lights, a lighter, three headsets, two of them military issue. She noticed her satchel had been dumped. Her meager belongings were of no use to them and she left it there. Candles, a watch that wouldn’t work without an electric frequency, but she took it, just in case. She threw in as much as she could until the pack was stuffed full. Robert stood to take the pack and was pushed roughly back to the couch. “She packed it,” Lisa said. “She carries it.” “Take some out,” Robert told her as he stood, this time being allowed to remain standing. “No time,” Lisa said, as she turned to make her way to the front of the group, “We’re out of here.” She made a circular motion in the air and the men gathered Dane, Robert, Paul, and Grace to an area in the center of the group. Grayson walked up next to Lisa without a thought to Grace and she was grateful. She struggled to put the pack on, but once it was in place she thought she could manage the cumbersome weight. “These are the good guys?” Grace looked at Paul. They hadn’t let them bring weapons. The men were tied up. “They seem to think so,” Paul answered. “But every enemy thinks they’re the good guy.” “Let’s keep it quiet,” Dane instructed. Paul nodded and they were shuffled out the door and into the fog.
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Chapter 14 Two Hummers and two vans waited at the end of the block. The rebels fell into three groups. One group remained with the prisoners, one went ahead to scout out the area and the other fell back into the shadows. Lisa and Grayson remained in front, watchful within the thick fog. It was difficult to see, but not impossible. The moon was huge in the sky and the fog moved like shadows across it. It was almost a full two feet above her, blocking out the smaller stars in the night sky. Lights came on in the vehicles. Lisa had a chemical light in her hand and waved it back and forth over her head. Another light came from a darkened corner between houses. As they neared the vehicles, the rebels separated them. Grace could smell chemicals around the hybrid cars. Gasoline. Robert was loaded into one van, and Dane into the other one. She felt his gaze on her until he disappeared inside. She and Paul were put into a Hummer, side by side, and surrounded by rebels with guns. One of the men took her pack and threw it in the back. Lisa and Grayson got up front, Lisa driving. They pulled in front of the other vehicles and led the way toward Embarcadero. They moved slowly down the empty streets. The fog seemed to be rising faster and Grace tried to recall what Paul had said about it. Six feet. “How high is the fog?” she asked. She glanced at Paul whose face was blank. He knew, but he said nothing. Why? Maybe she should say nothing, as well? Grayson turned in his seat to look at them. His hidden eyes and scarred face were in the shadows and Grace was grateful. “Well over six feet,” Grayson said, looking directly at Paul. “Wouldn’t you say so, soldier?” Paul said nothing. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the two men stared at each other. Animosity. Hatred. Acknowledgement. Did they know each other? “Just keep an eye out for trouble,” Lisa said. The rebel beside her checked his gun. He turned his gaze out the window. She could hear the others behind her rustling about. Had Paul already told them about the dangers of the fog when it got to six feet? Had she been in the shower that long? Had she heard them downstairs what would she have done? Her mind was so full that her head ached. “Why didn’t I hear you come in?” She asked Lisa. “We’re just stealthy like that,” she answered. Silence filled the vehicle and Lisa shifted, moving forward toward the windshield. “We saw the smoke rising above the fog. We were looking for supplies and answers. We knew we’d find one or the other in the village district.”
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“But why take us with you?” “It just seemed odd to us that you’d have your own pet cyborg,” Lisa said as she leaned closer to the windshield. “Shit! I can hardly see ahead of me.” “The fog is moving faster,” the soldier beside her commented. Grace looked at him. He smelled of sweat and dirt. His clothes were simple, functional, and dirty. The cap on his head displayed the three blue bars. “Your cyborg can help us,” Lisa continued. “Once he does, you can all go.” “You don’t need me,” Paul said. His voice was low but clear. “If you wanted to ask questions, you could have done it back at the house.” He looked at Grayson, then turned to watch the buildings go by outside. “We didn’t know we’d find something like you,” Lisa said. “We weren’t prepared. Besides, what we need help with requires your … presence.” “What do you need?” Grace asked, suddenly worried for Paul. She had helped to save his life. She had made a promise. What did these people want with him? “A map.” Grayson’s voice made her insides grow cold. “What kind of map?” Paul asked. His attention went back to Grayson. “A map of the city,” Lisa answered. “So we can get our people out of here. A map of the underground.” “Why do you need Paul for that?” Grace asked. “In order to download the map, he’ll have to plug in and retrieve the information from the command center,” Grayson told her. “As he downloads it, we’ll be backing it up in a computer I’ve set up just for capturing information from the command center and land base. The computer itself is too slow for gathering data, we need someone to plug in for that, but it can store the information once we have it.” Grace watched Lisa glance in the rearview mirror at Paul. She scowled, licked her lips and looked away. “Then, we can go?” Grace asked. “You can go. Or you can come with us,” Lisa told her. “This city is dead. You don’t have to die with it.” Grace sat silently thinking of the irony. The city was going to die. She was going to die. But, the city could be saved if she stayed and helped Dane. “I’ll stay with Dane and Paul,” Grace said. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me,” Lisa snapped at her. She looked again in the mirror and caught Grace’s confused gaze. “And don’t look at me like that.” “What did I do?” Grace looked to the soldier beside her, but it was Grayson who answered. “Our fearless leader is a little squeamish about killing your friend,” he said. “I don’t understand,” Grace’s voice held fear and her heart beat hard as she looked at Grayson and then to Paul. Both men wore no expression. “Now that I’ve been reported as missing,” Paul said, as he turned to look at her, “when I plug in, they’ll trace the signal and I’ll be terminated.” She couldn’t breathe. Paul was a warrior, a doctor. He could help people. His life would be a terrible sacrifice. He’d already suffered. It was unfair. He shouldn’t die. If you have something to offer the world you shouldn’t die.
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“You can’t do that.” Grace looked at Lisa. She tried to will the woman to look at her, but she wouldn’t. “Paul can help.” “He is helping,” Lisa said without looking back. “That map will save hundreds of lives.” “No,” Grace’s cry caught in her throat. “You don’t understand. He knows things about what they’re doing. He has human memories. He’s a doctor.” Silence filled the vehicle. Tension rose, from the rebels, from Lisa, from Grayson. Grace saw Lisa glance into the mirror. She looked at Paul, then at Grace. “He’s a doctor?” Grace nodded, hoping the tone in Lisa’s voice meant that Paul had a chance. Lisa looked at the soldier beside Grace. “Charlie.” With that single word, Charlie brought his pistol out in front of him, ready. He flipped the safety off and aimed it toward the back of Grayson’s seat. Grayson barely moved, but his body went on alert at the sound. “We found a high-ranking soldier,” Grayson’s voice was even as he spoke. “We knew there would be sacrifices.” He turned his head toward Lisa slowly. “You’ve spent the last hour telling yourself that one sacrifice for over three hundred people was acceptable. But, now, that changes because your sister is dying and you think this thing can help you?” “Shut up, Grayson, and let me think.” Lisa cast her gaze back at the fog. Lights from the vehicle behind them flashed on and off rapidly. Charlie kept his eyes on Grayson, but Grayson turned to look. “Trouble,” Grayson said. “Shit.” Lisa’s gaze searched as far as she could see. “Man the windows. Watch for them.” A rustling of clothing, the stench of sweat, and the sound of windows going down caused Grace to shiver with fear. The cold invaded the interior of the vehicle, leaving good bumps on her body. Wind blew her hair in her face and she grabbed it, tucking it down the back of her sweater. It wouldn’t stay. She held on to it with one hand as she tried to see outside. “What’s happening?” She thought she knew, but she wanted to be wrong. “AIM soldiers,” Paul answered. His gaze remained fixed on the fog as his arm came around her to pull her close. “Stay back from the windows. Keep low.” He tried to lay her in his lap, but she wanted to see what was going on. Dane. He was behind them. Had he seen the AIM soldiers? Had someone been hurt? She tried to look out the back window, but the rebels were in the way. Paul kept pulling her down, but she needed to see what was going on behind them. The car lurched and she was pulled back as they accelerated. The car lights flashed again. “They’re on foot.” Charlie said. More flashes from behind. “Someone’s been hit. But we’re all still together. Let’s get the hell out of here, Lisa.” A sharp turn to the right threw Grace up against Paul. He caught her before her head could connect with the window. They sped through the city the short distance to the Embarcadero train station. Lisa pulled into a parking lot that had three cars in it. She
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parked and Grace could see the other three vehicles pull in. The last vehicle was a van. The back window had been shot out. Dane. The tightness in her chest nearly stopped her breathing. Tears gathered, threatening to fall. The side door of the Hummer opened. Charlie got out, grabbed Grace’s pack and gave it to one of the other rebels. Everyone was moving. Something was very wrong. Were the AIM soldiers able to follow them there? Whispered shouts meant to hurry everyone were lost to her as she watched rebels pile out of the van. Where was Dane? Why wasn’t he getting out of the van? “Come on,” Charlie grabbed her wrist and pulled her out. Grace broke free and started running toward the van. Dane. He wasn’t coming. She screamed when someone caught her and her feet left the pavement. The world spun around and she couldn’t catch her breath as bands of steel crushed her. It was Charlie. Grayson came up behind him. “Shut her up,” Grayson told him, “Or I will.” “Dane,” she called out. A hand went over her nose and mouth. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to get away, but Charlie held her still. “Understand this,” Charlie spoke directly into her ear. “No one has a use for you. If you give away our position, we’re all dead. I don’t want to have to hurt you. Please don’t make me hurt you.” Tears spilled, the world wavered and Dane never came out of the van. Charlie moved his hand slightly and she pulled in air through her nose. Cold air filled her burning lungs. Charlie turned her around and set her feet on the ground. He removed his hand. Don’t make me hurt you. What did it matter? She was dead already. No one has a use for you. Was that true? With Dane dead it was true. All of a sudden six months seemed like such a long time. Too long. Her legs shook as Charlie let go of her. Dane. She didn’t want to go. Everyone was rushing to get things out of the vehicles and running toward the underground train station. She couldn’t hear anything. Not their voices. Not their footsteps. There was only silence. She saw Robert. One of the rebels was pushing him forward. He was still tied up. He looked at her. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him. It seemed like everyone was moving in slow motion. Charlie’s face swam in front of her. Her eyes moved upward toward the moon. She saw light … and then darkness.
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Chapter 15 Strong arms and a warm body cradled her. They moved through the cold fog toward the train station. Nausea washed over her as the world continued to spin. Shaking her head to clear it had been a bad idea. “Let me down,” she whispered. Briefly, she wondered if she’d actually said the words aloud. She looked up, surprised to see Paul carrying her. “Paul,” she started to say something more, but he looked down at her and set her on the ground. She wavered, her knees like rubber, but Paul kept his arm around the front of her waist to keep her from introducing the pavement to her face. She placed her hand on his forearm at her waist. She stood still. People were passing them. She couldn’t tell who they were. “Are you okay?” The caring in Paul’s voice brought tears to her eyes. No one has a use for you. The caring she saw when she looked into Paul’s face said that they were wrong. She had promised to help Paul. He needed her. She blinked hard in an effort to make the world stop spinning. The nausea subsided, but she didn’t trust it to stay away. Dane. The grief washed over her in an instant. She turned her head to see where the van had gone, but what she found was Robert carrying Dane’s body. She couldn’t look away, even when Paul tried to move her forward. His limp body was too big for Robert to carry, but Robert held on. He looked toward the train station, seeing nothing else around him. Grace tried to see where Dane had been shot, but she wasn’t able to before Paul blocked her vision with his large frame. “Grace,” Paul’s voice was tender and soft, “we have to get into that train station now.” “Dane is dead,” she whispered to Paul. “Not yet,” Paul glanced at the two men and frowned. “But, if we don’t get in there he soon will be. AIM soldiers are coming.” As he said the words, he waited for Robert to walk by. He stepped in front of him and stopped his progress. Paul took Dane and glanced in Grace’s direction. Robert nodded and walked to Grace. “We need to go.” Robert took her hand. Paul walked in front of them carrying Dane. Still, she saw no blood, but her legs moved of their own accord. The men in front of her were a magnet and she led Robert down into the underground. The rebels had already done a sweep of the area. A dead AIM soldier bled crimson onto the white tiles. Grace looked away. Grayson came into view. “Move it,” he said to Paul. “I told you, if he became a liability, we’d leave him. That goes for your other friends, too.”
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Grayson glanced at Grace and Robert. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to look at him. And certainly didn’t want his notice. Dane. She fought back her urge to look away from Grayson. Her gaze went beyond him to Paul and Dane. No blood. It gave her courage. Dane wasn’t dead. She needed to stay alive, to help him, to help Paul. “Come on, Grace,” Robert called to her. He was standing down inside the trailway where the conveyances traveled. Lack of electricity would keep them safe there, but she wondered where they were going and how much time they had left. She joined Robert and the rebels in the darkened underground. The rebels had lit chemical lights and began walking east. A loud noise behind her caused her to turn around. Paul had jumped down with Dane still in his arms. He shifted Dane’s body and glanced at her. “Let’s go,” Paul said. Grace turned and followed Robert and the rebels into the blackness of the train tunnels. They had only gone a few hundred yards when the lights stopped moving. Robert had her hand in his and he stopped near them. It was difficult to see, but, when Grace peered around Robert’s body a glimpse of a green light disappeared into a hole at the side of the tunnel. One at a time, the rebels lowered themselves into that hole. Robert pushed Grace forward to the hole, but her heartbeat and the threat of nausea returned. She couldn’t do it. Peering down into the utter blackness of the small opening, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to go inside. There were noises in there, voices. “We have to go, Grace,” Robert told her as he pushed her again toward the opening. “If we don’t go, they’ll kill us and you’ll go in that way.” No bodies. No trail. No proof. “We have to get Dane down there,” Paul stood behind them. Grace looked at them. Paul’s green chemical light cast shadows across Dane’s face. She thought she saw him move, but, in the eerie green shadows, it was hard to tell. This was the only choice. Putting her arms on either side of the dark hole, the cold concrete tunnel scraped her back as she slid forward. The tunnel took her farther down underground. Noises, footsteps, and voices awaited, capturing her in a soft green light as her feet hit solid ground. Charlie moved her as, one at a time, the rest of them came down the chute. Dane’s unmoving body slid into Robert’s arms. A moan, deep and full of pain, escaped Dane as he was gently set aside. Her hands trembled, unwilling to touch him, but needing it. His clothes were damp, holding the cold to his warm body. “Let’s get going.” A woman’s voice, Lisa, called from farther down the smaller tunnel. “He isn’t shot?” Grace asked, as she followed Paul. “No,” Paul answered. “One of the rebels was shot, but not killed, and Dane wouldn’t leave him behind.” As he spoke, they came to the entrance of another, larger tunnel and she followed Paul inside, standing straight and looking at the rebels as they gathered around Lisa.
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The smell of sewer and dirt wafted in the air. Were the two men she and Dane encountered earlier in the day here? The two that she and Dane hid from? Grayson came through behind Robert. Though he was a large man himself, Robert’s frame wasn’t sufficient enough to slow Grayson’s pace as he walked to the front next to Lisa, where the last of the men gathered. A ladder behind Lisa caught Grace’s attention. Another tunnel at the top. No time for this. Lisa motioned for them to go and stood next to the ladder, as one by one, the rebels climbed up and crawled inside. “Help them,” Lisa told Charlie and then climbed up to disappear into the tunnel. Charlie climbed the ladder and went inside the tunnel. A hand extended from the dark mouth. Robert climbed up and Paul passed Dane’s body to Robert and together they handed him to Charlie. Robert followed as Charlie pulled Dane inside. Grace took Paul’s cold hand and followed the men into the darkness of the smaller tunnel. Heavy breathing. Pushing. Pulling. Sliding. She followed the sounds of Dane’s body being pulled through the tunnel. Her knees grew wet as she crawled in the small space wondering how the larger men were able to get through. She struggled for air. Cramped inside the small space among a group of people it became hot. The smell of filth was a stain to her senses. A loud “humph” and a moan echoed from the bottom of yet another tunnel slide. A rat in a maze. Her muscles ached and her knees popped as she lowered herself. Familiar hands, a slight build, Grace could make Robert’s silhouette as he caught her. The soft light felt harsh to Grace’s unaccustomed eyes. Body outlines and shadows were all she could see at first. As she strained to see farther into the tunnel Robert’s hands fell gently to her shoulders to move her out of the way and help Paul up as he arrived. Dane lay on the cement floor, his head moving slowly. She swallowed hard and fought back tears as she kneeled beside him. Hard. Cold. Wet. The cement held an odor she couldn’t place and didn’t like. “Dane.” His cheeks were cold to the touch. She ran her hands over him and found a large bump on the back of his head. He winced. “Keep moving,” Lisa called. Paul was there, picking Dane up. He put Dane’s arm around his shoulders and Robert took the other side. Grace followed them, a thankful prayer echoing inside her heart as she watched Dane try to walk with them. The large tunnel opening fifty yards up was marked with a single line on the outside. Within makeshift huts, the weary faces stared in wonder at the strangers. It was a small piece-meal village that went back about two hundred yards. Fifty yards again and another opening, a larger recess in the tunnel with more huts and more staring eyes. Men, women, and children of all ages and in various stages of disarray and filth watched them. Outside the tunnel, two lines marked the opening. Fifty more yards and the outside of this opening matched the three bars on the rebel’s hats. It wasn’t as large as the second underground village they passed, but it was larger than the first. Two rebels stood guard outside the entrance. Lisa nodded to them as she led the way inside. The entrance opened up into a large cement cave that recessed
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over 300 yards back. Huts made of old car parts and metal garbage lined the back. Hive. Grace’s neck craned back as she took in the small cubicles stacked 50 yards in the air. Make-shift ladders led up and down the side of the rows. They were large enough to fit two adults each, but no one could possibly stand up straight in them, except for small children. There were no children in this place, only men and women with weapons. Other buildings lined the concrete tunnel on the side and up the middle. In the very center was a large cage made of rusted fencing and tall metal poles. The large square fenced enclosure proved to be a jail. A man stood in the center of it, filthy and wet, and obviously ill-treated. Grace’s heart pounded as they neared it. The prisoner’s eyes were large, but, as they stared at her she could see no humanity in them. Small breaths helped to stifle the odor. Ventilation holes lined the ceiling but did little for the smell. Cool air ran over her as she passed beneath them. She was grateful when they passed the prisoner and moved toward a large hut made of tires and old conveyances. Eyes that had become accustomed to the light had to readjust when they walked inside the darkened hut. Candles sat unlit and a string of tiny electric lights made a path around the single room inside. Three desks on three walls held computers and small weapons. The one opposite the only door to the hut was larger than the rest and there were papers scattered over it. An old couch, pushed up against the wall next to the larger desk, was an ugly green, but dry and welcome as Grace took a seat next to Dane who was able to sit up on his own. Robert sat next to him, his eyes taking in the situation. “Charlie,” Lisa said, “You stay. And Roger. Put Ramon on guard outside,” she cast a glance at Grayson then back to Charlie, “Just in case.” Charlie nodded as everyone left except for him and Roger. Roger was relatively clean compared the rest of them, and much smaller. Charlie leaned back against the black tire wall to keep a watchful eye on the prisoners. And Grayson. Roger sat at one of the computers, took out a large hunting knife and began to clean his fingernails. He seemed totally engrossed in his task, but Grace saw his gaze flick to Grayson again and again. “What happened to Dane?” Grace asked Paul, who stood between the couch and large desk. “Grayson told the men to leave a wounded soldier behind. Dane wouldn’t leave him,” Paul explained. “We don’t leave anyone behind,” Dane’s voice was strained, but Grace’s heart raced to hear it. She glanced at him, saw him struggle to concentrate. Her hand fell softly to his thigh. His larger hand covered hers, pressed down lightly, and remained. “What a luxury it must be to have such nobility,” Grayson said as he approached the couch. “Who are you to judge our sacrifices?” Grayson seethed. “Who are you to question my authority?” Grayson grabbed for Dane’s throat, but a hand caught Grayson at the wrist. Paul shoved at Grayson. As Grayson stumbled back he pulled a knife. Paul pulled out an equally large knife and Grace had just enough time to wonder how Paul got it before Lisa spoke.
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“I would stop right there, Grayson,” she said evenly. Grayson’s eyes first glanced to her, then, he held still as the muzzle of Charlie’s gun rested against his temple. “Did you give orders to leave one of my men?” Lisa asked. “He was going to die. He was holding us up.” Grayson made no apologies. “Did you know, Charlie?” Lisa’s gaze fell to Charlie. “No. We were already with you, doing a sweep of the train station when Grayson went to check on the men.” Lisa walked, craning her head to look into the eyes of the tall man. She took his knife. A crack in the air announced her fist connecting with Grayson’s jaw. Grayson was unmoved, but he looked down at her through those dark glasses, and a lightning bolt of fear filled Grace’s heart for Lisa. “Do it,” Lisa spat at him, “We don’t need you anymore. We’ve got him.” She glanced at Paul and back to Grayson. “He may not be able to do the things that I can do,” Grayson warned. “He may have different training.” Lisa nodded, but said nothing. She walked to Paul and took his knife. “I see that I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you,” she said to Paul. Her gaze searched his face, lingered there before she turned away. “Those aren’t candles,” Dane’s voice broke the silence. Grace turned to him and watched him as he shook his head and concentrated on the small string of lights around the room. “No,” Grayson said, but he looked at Lisa as he continued, “They’re lights. Electric lights.” Dane looked around the room, and the sound of power brought his attention to where Lisa stood at the large desk, booting up her computer. “Power?” Dane questioned Lisa, but it was Grayson who demanded their attention. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m able to tap into the military’s electric frequency without alerting them.” “How can you do that?” Dane asked. He rubbed absently at the lump on his head, but Grace could tell by the clarity of his gaze that he was fully recovered. Grayson walked closer again, Charlie’s gun trailing him. “Because,” Grayson said, as he removed his dark sunglasses. “That’s what I was trained to do in Detroit. Tap into electric frequencies.” Dane’s body was so close to her that Grace could feel his tension. She stifled a gasp, but her heart pounded in her ears as she looked in to the dead red light of Grayson’s left eye.
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Chapter 16 “The only way to save our people is to get the hell out of San Francisco before those black boxes explode.” Lisa remained in the center of the room, pacing. “Our people?” Grace listened quietly as Lisa spoke, her opinion growing softer toward the rebel leader. Lisa stopped, her gaze finding Grace and holding there. Emotions were thrown back behind a wall of nothingness and soft brown eyes. “I can’t save everybody,” Lisa’s monotone voice sounded factual, but an underlying anger threatened at the edges of her pursed lips. “We’ve only got a few hours. It’s going to take all of that time to get everyone organized to leave this place.” A mixture of heat, anger and sadness grew in Grace’s heart. There was well over a million people living in San Francisco. “When those boxes explode, and that bacteria gets into the air, everyone in the city will be dead in a matter of minutes.” Lisa’s mask slipped, and her eyes blinked back a thought that held the warmth of tears. “I hate those sheep-bastards,” her gaze moved to the ceiling and beyond, “but I don’t wish them dead.” As her gaze found Grace again they held only softness. “You have access to information.” Grace looked at the computer. “We can find out where their command center is and stop them.” Dane squeezed her hand, calling her attention. Pity. Sadness. Anger. His gaze mirrored Lisa’s, but held a warning. His thumb moved over the back of her hand, stroking softly. “They’ll only have enough time to get a small amount of information from the computer before the military recognizes what’s happening and sends out a signal to kill Paul.” Dane released her hand to rub at the back of his head. The shuffling of feet caught Grace’s attention and she looked at Lisa. Tension filled the air as the beautiful rebel moved to stand in front of Paul. Grace couldn’t stop watching her. “You can’t kill Paul.” Being angry in person was different than being angry to people inside your headset. Grace shifted in her seat. The anger was lined with fear, and Grace trembled as she spoke. “Paul isn’t one of your people. You can’t just do with him what you want. You can’t just kill him.” “That’s the point,” Dane said. “Paul isn’t one of their people.” Cold and heat wound around her heart, fighting for supremacy. She hadn’t been trained to interact like this. Speaking out to Mr. Miller or Juliana was unheard of, but she recognized the need welling up inside her to express her opinions. Her anger. Nothing stood in the way now. Six months. Nothing to lose. “You’re selfish,” Grace said to Lisa as she stood. Roger gave her little notice, but Grayson took a step forward.
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Dane was up, not steady, but up. His body moved between Grace and Grayson. He wavered, shook his head, but held his ground. The heat from his body called her closer to him. His back was damp and smelled of the cold, wet concrete of the tunnels. Somewhere underneath was the musky scent of his cologne, and that sent a memory into her heart. “You’re only thinking of yourself. Of your own people,” Grace felt stinging in the back of her throat. “You can help a lot more people than just yours, if you get the right information.” She swallowed hard, but the dryness caused her to cough. Lisa’s gaze dropped. She walked to the desk and poured a glass of water for Grace. Grace needed it, so she took it. The water was clean, cold, and soothed her aching throat. Lisa took the empty glass. “If you could save him, would you do it?” Lisa asked, looking at Dane. “Yes, of course,” Grace said without hesitation. “Why?” Hesitation. Why? A glance at Dane and her heart tightened in her chest. Early this morning she wouldn’t have cared at all if the news told her Thomas Dane was dead. Her life unaffected by it. Others would care, because he was a celebrity. People felt they knew someone if they saw them in movies, on television, heard them sing. Yet, in a week’s time Thomas Dane would be replaced by another celebrity. In a year, Dane would be reruns and classic oldies. Forgotten. Replaced. A victim of a moral, social disease he helped to create with his damned Emotion Chip. Looking at him, tears threatened to fall. His death would devastate her. When had that happened? Her eyes closed, no movie, no radio, only memory. No headset required. His touch, his taste, his body. All of those things kept her from wanting him to die. But something more warmed her blood, and caused the tears to caress her cheeks in their flight to the ground. He had told her something that changed her life, something that made her want to live. That same thing made her willing to do anything, everything, to keep him alive. You matter. He’d said it with that beautiful voice, that hard body, the taste of his kiss. “He matters,” Grace whispered into the room as she opened her eyes. Dane’s gaze caught hers. A moment. Private, stolen. He searched her face, held her gaze and couldn’t look away even when Lisa moved closer to her. “I have a sister,” Lisa said. Grace looked from Dane and into soft brown eyes. “And what you feel, right now, for him,” she glanced at Dane and back to Grace, “is what I feel for her. How can you ask me to take a chance with my sister’s life like that?” “We could save everyone,” Grace pleaded. “Could. But if we don’t, my sister dies. Right now, I can save her. I can save a lot of people I care about.” Grace tried to stop her anger and frustration. Dane wouldn’t die. He could go with the rebels. But lots of people in San Francisco had people they loved. She couldn’t leave them. Years and years of conditioning to turn away were lost on her. She would do what she could. She couldn’t speak as her mind processed what she must do. The air was thick from lack of ventilation in the closed building. Wet cement, sewer, so many smells it
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made her head ache. Dane stood there, her protector. Paul, behind her ready to die, but willing to heal others. Robert. Her gaze found him. He was fidgeting, trying to hold still, not seeing, not hearing. Stephanie. She’d never seen a man love a woman so much. “I’ll do it,” she whispered, and turned back to Lisa. “Do what?” Lisa asked. “I’ll plug in to the computer. I’ll get the map of the city, and if I’m not dead you have to promise to get the location of the command center.” “No,” Dane’s voice was clear and deep. It captured the attention of Roger, who closed his knife and pulled his gun. Grace felt the tone rock her body. She shivered. She couldn’t make herself look at him. She’d look at Grayson before she’d meet Dane’s gaze. You matter. Her fate was sealed by that tone. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t let any of them die. She looked at the shocked face of the rebel leader. “I’m dying,” Grace said. “I have a brain tumor.” Silence. Lisa signaled Roger, who aimed his gun at Dane as he neared. Grayson stepped closer to Roger, but his attention held on Grace. “If she dies, we still have the soldier,” Grayson’s voice raked at the inside of her mind. “Paul is a doctor,” Grace wouldn’t look at Grayson. Her gaze remained fixed on Lisa. “His life is worth so much more than mine.” Grace thought of the conversation in the van. “He could help save your sister.” “It’s not going to happen, Grace,” Dane’s voice was calm, but the tone was so low it vibrated in her ear. Roger put the muzzle of the gun to Dane’s head. Silence again. “You’re dying?” Lisa asked. Her mask was back in place. “Yes,” Grace confirmed, “and we’re running out of time.” Men came in from outside the building. Grace never heard anyone call them. They were just there. Lisa nodded. The men took positions by Dane, Paul, and Robert. When Lisa stepped aside, Grace moved to the computer. “No!” Dane moved, and three of the rebels grabbed him. Paul tried to move toward her, but several of them stopped him, as well. Robert was still. His eyes glassy, tears unshed, glistened. “Robert?” Dane yelled to the other man. “What choice is there?” Robert’s soft voice held Dane in check. Grayson moved to the computer and sat down. His fingers glided across the keyboard. Grace had never seen such a computer. She’d always had her headset. But the keyboard was the same. Instead of being plugged into a headset it was plugged into a box. She was mesmerized by it. Grayson plugged in a headset. The rod was six inches. She was fitted for four. Pain. Fear. Acceptance. The pain wouldn’t last long. “Don’t do it, Grace,” Dane struggled. A cold plastic headset was placed into her hand. Suicide. Death. Life. She shook, forced herself to steady so Dane wouldn’t see her hands. The rod was already pulled down. Another glance at Dane held her to this earth. A lifetime in a day. She placed the
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headset over her head. She positioned the rod. “I’ve never loved anyone before,” she said, looking into Dane’s eyes. He was her miracle. She was glad to know he might survive this. “Grace!” The rod slid into place. She was plugged in.
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Chapter 17 There was clapping. Not applause, but the sound of someone typing frantically on a keyboard. The pictures forced behind her lids, were foreign. Grace held still, waiting for the pain. More pictures. Things she’d never really see. Things she’d never know about. Far away a buzzing began. The pictures came faster. A map. Another map. The buzzing became a high pitched whine as it grew louder. A document she couldn’t read. Another, with pictures of AIM soldiers. The noise resonated in her head. Another map. The command center. The noise brought pain with it. It began to vibrate behind her lids, until she could no longer see the pictures. Her lids convulsed. No control. Pain. Noise. Someone was screaming. Her throat hurt, her lungs burned. Even in the darkness everything spun around. She recognized her voice as pain and cold spread, dropping her to her knees. She scraped her palms, as her body tumbled. White-hot pain intensified. Dying. Abruptly it stopped. The pain was gone, as though it were never there. The spinning continued. Nausea followed. Residual pain registered as she caught her breath. Her hands and knees were wet and cold. Lungs and throat still burned, but she no longer heard the screams. Breathing took all of her energy. “Grace.” The voice penetrated and her eyes opened. He knelt beside her, the headset in his hand. “Dane?” She focused on him, but the room spun, making it difficult to hold her gaze to any one thing. The warmth of his body as he enveloped her in an embrace pushed away the pain. He was sitting on the cold floor rocking her, his heart beating frantically against her cheek. How long had it taken to download the information? Did they get it all? Why wasn’t she dead? Her mind was full of questions, but her throat wouldn’t allow them to escape her lips. Her breath caught in her lungs, cooling her body. She trembled, but she wasn’t cold anymore. An audible click sounded in her throat as she attempted to speak, but nothing came. The coolness of a glass touched her lips, and water poured in a small sip at a time. The first sip hurt, but the second was soothing and then her body responded and she tried to take a bigger drink. The glass was taken back and she looked up into the concerned face of Paul. “Did I get it?” Her whisper came out on an exhale, and she wondered if anyone heard her. “We got everything,” Dane whispered in her ear, his embrace tightening for a moment. He pushed her away from him to inspect her. He frowned as he wiped away tears she had been unaware of. “How do you feel?” An internal inspection only brought more questions as to why her life had been spared. A headache, lodged between her eyes, was fading, leaving a dull heartbeat there. Her throat felt better, but it would be hours before it felt fine again. The tiny aches and
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pains from her fall meant nothing to her. Not now that she knew she would live a little longer. “I’m fine.” Looking around the room, she saw the questioning faces of those who had watched her ordeal. Mistrust etched many of those faces. A sudden jerk caused the room to spin, and the headache to flare, as Grayson’s large hands turned her to face him. He cradled her face in one hand as he tilted it back, to inspect her hook-in. As he let go he pushed her toward Dane who caught her, and steadied her in his arms. “You have a military hook-in,” Grayson accused. He looked around the room, halting his gaze on Lisa’s. “She’s a spy.” “No!” Grace’s blood ran cold at the accusation. Why would they think that? She placed her hand to her hook-in, expecting to find blood that wasn’t there. “Explain yourself!” Grayson’s harsh tones echoed in her ears. She turned to face Dane. His face mirrored that of Paul’s. Confusion. She dislodged herself and stepped back from him. A study of his face caused a distinct pain in her chest. “I don’t know why my hook-in can take a military rod,” she said. “Maybe the doctors did it when I had some of the tests done on my brain.” “And you didn’t notice something like that? An alteration to your hook-in?” Grayson had been joined by some of the other soldiers. “I was in a lot of pain for a while,” she stammered to explain as her mind reviewed the days before, and directly after, her diagnosis. “There were so many tests. I was unconscious sometimes. I just don’t know. But I’m no spy!” “She has a military hook-in, and a pet cyborg,” Grayson said as he looked at the soldiers and then to Lisa. “Now, she’s infiltrated our command center. What are the chances that the map we have can be trusted?” The soldier’s grumbling words coming from behind Grayson were jumbled as Grace tried to figure out what had just happened to her. Somehow she’d gone from martyr to enemy. She should be dead, no doubt, from the hook-up and download she’d just went through, so she could understand their mistrust. She just couldn’t do anything about it. “Grace is no spy and you know it.” Dane’s expression held less surety than his words. She looked at him, studied him, and knew he was unsure. How could he know? They’d only just met. It was long enough to make love, but not to earn trust. Grayson walked forward, but stopped a few feet from Lisa. His stern look went to the soldiers. “Your leader brought a spy in amongst you. Is this who you want to follow when your lives depend on it?” “Watch it, Grayson,” Lisa warned. “You brought her here, too.” Lisa’s soft brown eyes narrowed on Grace and held there. “I’m sorry Grace. I don’t think you’re a spy, but I do need an explanation about the hook-in.” “Maybe she was slotted to be a soldier when she was young?” Paul offered. “Lots of orphans, and other unwanted, were given directly over to the military.” “What? And the doctor who worked on her failed to mention that?” Grayson
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wouldn’t give up this line of questioning. Not this line of thinking. Not this opportunity to take command. “We need to act on this information now,” Lisa interrupted. “It doesn’t matter if she’s a spy or not. We’re running out of time. If the map is fake, we die. If the map is real, and we don’t try to make it out, we die.” “We have the cyborg,” Roger said. “Do we trust a cyborg or a spy?” Lisa asked. “Let’s take what we have, and make a run for it.” She turned to two soldiers who stood at attention near the entrance of the tent. “Give the signal,” she said and the two quickly disappeared. She turned back to those who remained. Her gaze fell to Paul. “Roger will take you to see my sister. She needs help before she can be moved. “Grayson, why don’t you send someone up to see if we’ve got company coming?” When Grayson only stared, Lisa took a position directly in front of him. Toe to toe. “No one here is going to trust a spy … or a cyborg, Grayson. That’s why you’ll never be put in charge.” “What are you saying? I’ve kept my end of the deal.” “And I’ll keep mine. For now, you check up top while I get people organized to move out.” Grayson nodded, brief, curt. He spun around, and motioned for two of the soldiers to follow him, and then he was gone. Paul approached Lisa. “You made a deal with the devil?” he asked. “Grayson came to us weeks ago,” Lisa told him, “he told us something was going to happen in San Francisco. He told me that the only way to save my people would be to trust him to help. We struck a bargain. He helps us survive, and we take him into our group as a military leader.” “And you trusted that? That he came all the way to San Francisco to ask a bunch of rebels for a job? I hate to tell you this, but Grayson is a selfish bastard, and whatever he’s really up to here has nothing to do with helping anyone but himself.” “He got us electricity,” she said. “He put that computer together so it could download military information. He got us the map. We’re getting out of here because he kept his part of the bargain. Besides, what military significance would our people have anywhere? Until he does something against us, he’s with us.” “That’s noble, Lisa,” Paul told her, “but it’s also stupid. Grayson isn’t someone to make deals with.” “Where else is he going to go?” she asked. “You saw his face. He’d never be allowed to live among the sheep. He’s a wanted man. It’s the underground or death. His motive is simple; survival. And, I think we can all relate to that.” Lisa ran her fingers through her dark hair. “We need to get moving.” She said it to herself, paused in thought, and then looked around the room. “Ramon. See that our guests are taken to the guest house. Give them their weapons. They can come or they can go. I don’t care. But, you,” her attention came back to Paul, “are coming with me.” “We won’t leave without Paul,” Grace spoke out, bringing the rebel leader’s
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attention to her. “Then you won’t leave.” With that Lisa nodded to Ramon and then to Paul. Lisa walked out, and Paul gave Grace a quick glance before he disappeared. Ramon followed orders like a good soldier. They were shown to a large tent behind the one they had just come from. Ramon handed them each a gun without hesitation. “Don’t try any funny business,” Ramon warned before he exited. “There’ll be enough death tonight.” Left alone, Robert, Dane, and Grace took seats around a table made of old tires and a car hood. “What do we do?” Grace asked. “We’re going to have to split up,” Dane spoke to Robert. “I’ll go to the command center on the ship and try to stop the detonation of the bombs. You go to the land center to try and find Stephanie.” “What about me?” Grace asked. “You’re going with the rebels, out of the city.” The finality in his voice made her angry. “I’m not leaving with them,” Grace told him and then glanced at Robert. “I’m not leaving with the rebels while you’re out trying to save everyone. I’m not leaving here to die. And I will die.” Her words caused Dane to shift uncomfortably. “She’s right Dane,” Robert spoke up. “She shouldn’t go with them. The military is looking for her. Where ever she goes, whoever she’s with, will be a target. She needs to stay with us. Besides,” he looked at Grace, “They want you. You have a military plug-in you knew nothing about, and this might be the only opportunity we have to find out what’s happening to you.” Grace silently thanked Robert for being logical. She hadn’t thought of the danger she might put Lisa and her people in. “Dane,” she said, “If there’s a way for me to save myself, I need to try. The chances that I’ll find out what they did to me after this is over is slim to none. I’m going with you.” Grace placed her hand on Dane’s shoulder. His hand came up to softly squeeze her fingertips. “I’m going to ask Lisa for the information they got. I’ll get the map to the command center. I’ll get everything.” She turned to leave and was greeted by Ramon. “I need to speak with Lisa.” The rebel soldier nodded and Grace was gone. Dane watched her walk away and pride overcame him. He looked across the table at Robert. “What are our chances?” he asked. “Not good,” Robert answered as he stood to pace the room. “But we do what we have to do, don’t we? For ourselves. For the people we love.” Robert’s gaze moved toward the place where Grace had sat. “I’ve never seen anyone affect you like she does.” Dane followed Robert’s gaze. Robert had no idea. Grace Sullivan had more than affected him. She got under his skin, into his soul. Watching her plug in, waiting for her
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to die, he had felt his heart short circuit, almost explode. When she’d survived, he was overcome by every emotion he’d ever felt. It was hot and cold all at once. It was something he’d never experienced before. “She’s different,” Dane agreed. “I don’t know if it’s the timing, or the fact that wanting her goes against the status quo.” Dane stood, walked to her vacated chair, and rested his hand on the back of it. “I do want her,” he said. “She moves me, until I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His imploring look brought his brother-in-law to his side. “I know you think the military took away your ability to feel love,” Robert said, as he placed his hand on Dane’s shoulder. “But, I’ve always thought you were wrong about that. You love your sister. Hell, you love me. And I’m telling you right now … you love Grace.”
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Chapter 18 The small bed lay against the far corner of the room. It was relatively quiet here, considering all the commotion going on around the compound. Paul stood in the doorway, watching Lisa gently wake her sister. “Amanda,” Lisa whispered, as she rubbed the little girl’s back. “Sweat pea, I need you to wake up.” Paul took a step inside. Stuffed animals hung on the walls. A preference toward animals that could fly was obvious. He reached out and plucked a unicorn off the wall. It had seen better days, but someone had taken care to sew the seams and place buttons for eyes. Paul would be willing to bet that the ‘someone’ was Lisa. The little girl rubbed her sleepy eyes, and smiled up at Lisa. Paul noted the strong family resemblance. Looking at the woman and child, a memory flashed instantly in his mind, and then it was gone. The image lost. But, the emotion brought on by it was staggering. Did he have a family? Somewhere out there? He shook his head as though he could clear it that way. “You okay?” Lisa was standing in front of him. It caught him off guard, and he frowned at her. “Fine. Do you want me to look at her?” He slipped on a mask of indifference to hide the turmoil running rampant in his heart. “Yes, of course,” she frowned back at him. “That’s what you’re here for.” Paul nodded and walked to the small bed where the little girl lay with wide brown eyes staring up at him. Those eyes remained on him for a moment, sizing him up, then they flicked to the toy in his hands. “That’s Rainbow.” The voice was small and soft. She reached out and took the unicorn, cradling it near her heart. She was wheezing, struggling for each breath. Paul petted the unicorn absently as he spoke. “Your sister tells me that you’re sick,” he said. She only nodded, saving her breath and energy. “You have a hard time breathing?” Again, a nod. “Have you not seen a doctor before?” Amanda looked at her sister, then back to Paul. Lisa came and kneeled down beside her. “Grayson knows of a surgeon who can help her,” Lisa told him. “He says that once we’re out of here, he’ll tell me where to find the doctor.” Lisa’s fingers ran through Amanda’s hair soothingly. Paul looked at them. All the strength Lisa owned lay in this tiny deathbed. Grayson was useful alright. The bastard. He was blackmailing Lisa, and she was blind to it. “What do you know about her condition?” he asked.
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“She was born with a heart defect. Our mother was told that she’d need surgery to fix it. A valve in her heart isn’t working right. But, that’s all I know. Our mother died when I was ten. Our father was a rebel soldier here. And doctors, reputable ones, won’t come here.” She looked at Paul. “Not even to save the life of a child.” His gaze moved from Lisa to Amanda. He had been a surgeon once. Not too long ago. But would he remember enough to do heart surgery on a child? A memory flashed before him. Blood. Instruments. Hands in Latex gloves, digging into someone’s body. Then it was gone. “Lisa, I don’t know if I can help,” he said. “Whatever they did to me,” he touched the metal that was still attached to his face, “they reprogrammed me. I don’t know if I’ll remember enough.” Amanda looked at her sister when the soothing touch stopped. The little girl hugged the stuffed animal closer to her. Paul moved his hand and rested it on the bedside. The struggling breaths of the little girl echoed in the silence. “Can she be moved?” Lisa held her breath … waiting. “I’m sorry, Lisa.” Damn! Wasn’t there something he could do? The helplessness of it made him burn. Those military bastards would continue to use him to kill. Only this time it wouldn’t be from a gun or a rifle, but from the knowledge they stole from him, a knowledge that could save this child’s life. Lisa smiled at Amanda as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Amanda took in a big gulp of air and reached up to wipe away the first drop that spilled over. “Don’t cry, sissy,” she whispered, “It doesn’t hurt.” Lisa swallowed hard, past the tears, and past the pain. Her hand began the soothing caress again, and Amanda closed her eyes. Lisa was nodding to herself. Resignation. Defeat. Grief. “We should go,” Lisa said. She kissed Amanda’s forehead, and pulled the covers up to tuck her in. An older woman, a nanny of some kind, came in. The women hugged, the older one looking at Lisa with hope that was extinguished with a simple shake of Lisa’s head. Another hug and Lisa walked out. Paul followed. “I didn’t think she would be miraculously cured,” Lisa said, as she turned to face him. “I was hoping there might be something we could do to transport her somewhere out of the city. But, she can’t stand being moved. The stress makes it hard for her to breathe. At least here, she would be at peace until ….” She broke off and turned away. “I wish there was more that I could do.” Paul approached her, but then didn’t know what to do. “If we had time and the right instruments, I might be able to help. But, even if I tried to do the surgery now, it would take longer than we’ve got to complete the procedure. That much I do know.” Lisa turned back to him, wiping the last of her tears. Her face was puffy, her eyes red rimmed. “I don’t want to alarm her. I’ll stay here with her.” Lisa’s resolve showed on her face. “No.” But wouldn’t he do the same if it was his sister? If he had a sister. Damn his memory for failing. “We can still try to move her. At least you’d die trying.” They stood in an alcove of Lisa’s home. They were still in the third hive, but this
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place was enormous compared to the other places. Where the shadows were pitch black, the light was almost too bright. The contrast threw startling lines across Lisa’s beautiful face. The smell of earth clung to her, to this place. Soon it would be a grave and they both knew it. “She can die here, in peace, where she has no idea what’s happening,” Lisa explained. “If I try to move her, there will be pain and fear. If she gets out of San Francisco then, what? We have to travel through tunnels to San Jose. We’ll be staying with people who are not our own, people who may require us to serve them. She’d not last long.” “What about Grayson’s doctor?” There had to be hope somewhere, even if it depended on that bastard, Grayson. Lisa worried her lip in thought. Her dark eyes were full of things he wished she didn’t know. “You and I both know Grayson can’t be trusted,” she said. “Then why did you let him in?” “Grayson was much like you. Something happened to him in Detroit, and he regained some of his memory. He helped save the Detroit rebel clan. They sent him to us.” “He saves a few,” Paul’s gaze studied her as he spoke, “but the city and everyone in it died.” She swallowed hard. She wasn’t stupid. Grayson had his own agenda. Lisa had hers. “The doctor’s in Michigan, she revealed, “He won’t come out until he knows we’ve secured his safety.” Lisa’s voice hitched, and she concentrated for a moment to get herself under control. “He won’t get here in time. You’ve seen her condition.” “Then I’ll stay,” Paul offered. “I can stay here with you.” A memory, vague, but heart-wrenching molded into his consciousness. He had a family somewhere. Or, at least, he used to have a family. A painful stab of guilt and shame caused a pain in his head. Dead. He wasn’t able to save them. Was that right? Paul’s hand rubbed absently between his eyes. The pain was mounting as he tried to recall the memory more fully. “If you want to help us,” Lisa pulled his arm down so he would look at her. “Stop the bombs.” A lifetime lived there between them as they gazed at each other. His lifetime. Her lifetime. And even more important was Amanda’s lifetime. She’d been cheated a full life. That didn’t mean it had to be over. Paul nodded once. She would stay here with the child. He would do what he’d been trained to do. Not as a doctor. But, as a soldier.
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Chapter 19 Grace waited at the front door. An alarm of some kind was sent out. A series of high pitched beeps had everyone running in an orderly panic. People had already packed. At least, Grace thought, some people were prepared. Lisa opened the door as Paul walked up behind her. Their solemn faces testified to the hopelessness of the night. “Your sister?” Grace wasn’t sure what to say. “Lisa’s going to stay here with her sister,” Paul said, as he moved through the door to pass Grace. “I’m going with Dane.” “I came to get the information that was downloaded,” Grace’s gaze remained fixed on Lisa. “We’re not leaving San Francisco.” “I’ll get it,” Paul said. “I’ll meet you and Dane in the tent.” With that Paul excused himself with a nod and a final glance at Lisa. Grace saw something flash across the doctor’s face that had nothing to do with saving lives and everything to do with determination. “Come in, Grace,” Lisa invited, “I want to talk to you before you go.” The large canvass home was amazing. Grace walked into a living area that reflected the life of the rebel leader. Organized. Sparse. Functional. The number of chairs in the far corner spoke of late night meetings. A gun cabinet, locked with a chain and padlock, sat near a drafting table. No flowers, no bright colors, nothing feminine decorated the room. Yet, there were scented candles on the meeting table and a stuffed toy lay abandoned on a chair. “We have something in common, Grace,” Lisa said as she indicated to Grace that she could have a seat near the drafting table. “We’re dying.” Grace watched her closely as she sat. Lisa had been crying. Grace could only imagine that it had to do with her sister. Lisa sat in front of her, back straight, eyes clear. She was a rebel leader again and this was business. “What do you mean?” Grace asked. “Unless someone stops those bombs I’ll be dead in a few hours,” Lisa said, her voice unwavering. “Unless someone finds out what was done to you, you’ll be dead, too.” “I find that dead people are the most honest people,” she continued. “There’s nothing to prove anymore. No one can blackmail you. No one can buy you off.” Her gaze held, then her eyes moved over Grace’s face as though she were reading it. “I trust you, Grace. I’ve lived by my instincts my entire life. I trust my instincts. I can’t go with my people. I’m needed here.” Lisa glanced briefly at a small compartment of the tent where the flaps there were closed off. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back at Grace. “I can’t go with the soldiers, even though every fiber of my being wants that. But
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you’ll go,” she nodded, then stood and walked toward the gun cabinet. She opened it, using a small key, and took out a pistol. “This is mine.” She handed it over to Grace. “Use it.” The gun was as cold as Lisa’s dark eyes. It was lighter than the gun she’d been given by Dane. Why Lisa would give such a gift to her was unclear. But she took it, checked the safety, and tucked it into the back of her pants. “I don’t know what to say.” About her sister. About the rebels. About the gun. “There’s nothing to say,” Lisa assured her. “Some women would have broken down crying when we stormed the house. Most would have been more concerned with themselves. You didn’t cry, and you wouldn’t leave a man behind. You were willing to give your life to save others.” Lisa paused in reflection, looked again at Grace, and nodded silently to herself. “You’re not going to wait here for them to return, and you’re not going to leave San Francisco, are you?” She knew the answer, but she wanted to know that Grace knew it. “I’m going with Dane.” Lisa nodded. “Of course.” “Isn’t there anything you can do to save yourself?” Grace asked as she stood and walked toward the other woman. Lisa’s gaze was piercing and calculated. “I just did it.” **** The men sat around the table, hunched over a multitude of papers. Grace entered quietly, hoping not to disturb them. “We can make it to the land control center in less than an hour,” Robert concentrated on the map in front of him. “This diagram …” he pulled another paper out from the pile, and sat it on top, “shows us where they have their land satellite and the most likely location for a jail or holding cell.” “They wouldn’t detonate from land,” Paul pulled out the map again. “The ship is located here, near Treasure Island. We’ll need to find a way to get to it. If we leave now it shouldn’t take more than an hour.” “This mission,” Robert looked up to stare directly at Paul, “is under my authority. We infiltrate the land center first. Our objective is to rescue Stephanie.” “Our objective is to save everyone in San Francisco,” Paul pointed out. “I don’t give a damn about everyone in San Francisco,” Robert’s voice had lowered an octave. His calm was a lie. His heart beat hard enough that Grace could see it in his neck. “There are children in this city,” Paul was unaffected, “Other people have wives … families here.” “And I suggest they take care of their own.” Robert stood erect. The tension in the room caused Grace to shift uncomfortably. “We work together. We save everyone.” Paul stood to face Robert. His metal face and dead red eye was all Grace could see. The doctor-turned-cyborg had no one here, yet he was willing to die to save these people. Grace wondered if that was the soldier in him or the doctor. “Dane,” Robert turned to his brother-in-law for support.
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“I understand,” Dane looked at Robert. “I do. There’s not enough time. We have to split up.” Robert glanced back at the map. His expression became a mask less human than that of the cyborg standing in front of him. Grace felt cold chills looking at him. “So be it,” Robert said. He pulled out the diagram again. Grace stood, ready to be noticed. Lisa was right, she hadn’t fallen apart so far, and she hadn’t given up. Warmth that only absolute resolve can give coursed through her. “What happens if Robert gets there, and the detonator is there, run by grunts?” she asked. She looked at Dane. “Didn’t you say that grunts are expendable?” “That’s unlikely,” Dane looked thoughtful. “But not impossible?” She asked. “No,” Paul said. “Not impossible. I’m a high ranking officer and I don’t know where the detonator is. It could be anywhere.” “Our best bet?” Grace asked. “Either the ship or the land center,” Paul answered. “Then we split up,” Dane said. “Robert and Paul to the land center.” His gaze found her. “Grace with me.” “You’re not coming with me?” Robert asked. His mask fell just enough for Grace to see the distaste there for Paul. Just as quickly the mask went back into place, but Paul had seen it too. “I won’t leave Grace,” Dane told him. “You should understand.” “Paul?” Grace needed to know where the doctor stood on this. They needed to be able to trust one another. Paul turned and his dark eye was as dead as the red light opposite it, a warrior’s mask. Like Robert. It wouldn’t matter where Paul was told to go, she realized, he would search for a way to save them all. Paul nodded once. The teams were chosen. A plan was set in motion. It was time to prepare to go back into the city.
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Chapter 20 She’d never shot anyone before. The gun was no longer cold against her skin, but had warmed to her. As she had to it. She would kill. It was inevitable, inescapable, fate. The woman who longed to make a difference had changed, her dream of being brave, hard-earned. And it wasn’t the romantic idea she thought it would be. She was still afraid. “Grace.” The sound of Dane’s voice as he stepped inside the tent warmed her cold heart. He glanced at the gun in her hand and whatever he saw on her face brought him next to her. They were finally alone, after all this time. After all that had happened. “Oh, Grace,” he sighed as he kneeled beside her, taking the gun from her hand and putting it aside. “Are you going to be able to do this?” Her shoulders straightened, lips pursed, eyes not quite as clear as she would have hoped. “We do what we have to do,” she answered. He nodded. “Yes, we do.” His gaze remained on her. She wondered what he saw there, studying her as he so obviously was. His finger made a slow caress along her jaw line, it held at her chin, tipping her head slightly, so he could press a gentle kiss on her mouth. It was almost her undoing. Regardless of the mantra she’d created for herself, that she could kill when pushed, she just wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the fear, she decided, but the taking of a life that gave her heart that cold hesitation. She let herself kiss him back. She would imprint this moment in her mind, preserve it. The soft unhurried kiss, so warm and full of something they might never fully realize. “You’ve undone me,” he whispered against her lips. She opened her eyes to see a face full of such emotion she found it hard to believe he couldn’t feel. Was it habit to show emotions, such as this, when he thought it was expected of him? Dare she ask? She wouldn’t. Nothing would entice her to break this spell, this lie. He was giving her something to live for. To fight for. She knew he couldn’t really love her, but he felt something. He was honorable. He would feel obligation, responsibility, perhaps even a kinship to her. Even if he could love her their social status would prohibit anything more than a causal friendship. All the time she would have with him was this moment. This day. It would be better to die living out this day beside him than survive the coming months alone. She had reason to fight. There was still hope that whatever caused this brain tumor might be reversed. She couldn’t deny that the presence of Juliana and the knowledge that the military had targeted her was more than coincidence. There were a lot of reasons to fight. For herself, and for the people who couldn’t escape San Francisco. And, she thought, as she looked into Dane’s handsome face, for one more
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moment, as brief and fleeting as it might be, with this man. “Do you trust me?” she asked, unexpectedly. Thoughts of his initial reaction to her military plug-in still haunted her. Something flashed across his face, regret. But his eyes were clear as he nodded. “I trust you.” The words caused relief to wash over her. Tears threatened behind her eyes. Dane would help her. If there was a chance she could be saved, he would help her find it. “When this is over,” he said, “we’ll talk this out. We’ll figure it all out.” A slight hesitation caused her to wonder if he meant to say more, but the flaps of the tent opened and their private world faded away. Grayson, pissed and armed, stood at the entrance. Grace grabbed for her gun as Dane stood to face the enemy. Grayson’s gaze flicked to Dane’s gun, then to her. The tall man’s stance was imposing and dangerous. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Grayson asked Dane. “We’ve done our part.” Dane moved and Grace had to look around him to see Grayson. “We’ve been given our freedom.” Grace watched Dane flick the safety off his gun. “I don’t answer to you.” “You are not going to sabotage this mission!” Grayson wasn’t afraid. He was angry. “I’ve had enough interference. You go with the rebels if you want to stay alive.” Dane’s body acted as a shield, but Grace didn’t want him to save her. She wanted him to know that she was capable. She moved back, to get a better look at what Grayson might have as a weapon. Once she could fully see him, a cold chill ran up her spine. “What mission is that, Grayson?” Dane asked. “Because, what we’re doing won’t affect the evacuation of these people.” A twitch, slight and quick, in Grayson’s clenched jaw muscles told Grace that he’d slipped up. He hadn’t meant to say so much. Grayson knew he’d been caught. It made him all the more dangerous now. “This is bigger than you know,” Grayson ground the words out slowly as he chose them more carefully now. “Stay out of it.” “I won’t stay out of it.” The line was drawn. “If you’re dead, you can’t help her.” Grayson took a calculated step forward. Grace wondered why Grayson would even care. Why not just pull the gun? The tension hung in the air like an electric currant. But, Grayson didn’t lift his gun. Not yet. “What do you want, Grayson?” Dane never moved. Grace could see his profile, and knew his eyes were locked on the cyborg. “What do you think you’re going to do?” Grayson shifted his body. Dane shifted. The tension rose. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Dane said. “Just walk away. Let us go.” “I can’t do that.” “So you’re going to try to kill us?” Dane’s body seemed to vibrate with expected violence. “I don’t want to have to do that.” Sweat broke out on her brow as she watched them. Dane moved, slightly, keeping his body always between her and Grayson. Screaming wouldn’t help. It might
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distract Grayson, but most likely it would distract Dane. The tent flap was closed. No witnesses to the violence within. She was too far away to run for help. It would put her too close to Grayson. She stood there feeling helpless even with her gun gripped so tightly is hurt her hand. Grace knew something had happened before all hell broke loose. She didn’t see Grayson move, but Dane brought his gun up so fast she didn’t have time to see why. Time sped up. Everything moved faster than she could think. Grayson threw his large body hard against Dane. Dane’s gun flew across the room, and the two men struggled on the floor. She couldn’t tell who was hitting or who was bleeding. Her gun was in front of her, pointed, waiting for an opportunity. She didn’t recall bringing the gun up. As the fight on the floor seemed to move in fast motion, the fight within her slowed, turned to ice. A break in the fight and Grayson would be a dead man. Through the cold that had turned inward, toward her soul, there was pain. She was focused on her target. But she had become a target. As the men struggled, Grayson’s gun went off. A scream ripped through her. Pain, first cold, then warm, spread. She heard Dane cry out. Her gun hit the ground. And so did Grace.
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Chapter 21 Everything was a blur at first. The pain was gone, but nausea began to attack her waking senses. Dane’s concerned face floated before her. Her focus, hazy around the edges, finally cleared. Dane’s lip was swollen, but he was alive. Adrenaline poured in and drowned out the nausea. “Drink this.” Paul’s voice seemed to echo in her ears. A hand, holding a glass of something liquid and yellow came into view. Dane took the glass and held it to her lips. The taste wasn’t bad, but her stomach lurched at the invasion. “Slow,” Paul commanded, still out of view. Dane allowed her to sip from the glass. Her stomach stopped lurching. The haze evaporated like fog in sunshine. The last of the liquid gone, she could now see Paul as he reached for the glass. “Grayson?” She asked. “They’re looking for him,” Dane said. “I hit him and tried to get to you. He took off.” Dane was safe. She was alive. Time was running out. Grace sat up on the makeshift couch. Robert was sitting on a backpack looking at her. He glanced at his watch, but said nothing. “How much time do we have?” Grace asked. More adrenaline. “Not a lot,” Dane told her. “Robert and Paul have everything ready to go. I think you should stay here.” “No!” She scrambled to stand. A wave of dizziness hit her and she reached out to Dane to steady herself. “What happened?” Confusion. Anger. Determination. Dane pulled her close until she could stand without his help. She looked down to where she had been shot, but there wasn’t any blood. No wound. “It was a tranquilizer gun,” Paul explained. The look on her face could only have been shock. “We don’t know why,” he answered. “It only nicked you,” Robert said as he stood and put the backpack on. “Paul’s little concoction is supposed to have you good as new by now.” He glanced at Paul. Grace wondered how these two would be able to work together. They were opposites. If they didn’t need each other, she thought, they’d kill one another. “How do you feel?” Dane’s concern warmed her. “Good enough to go,” she assured him. “I told you,” was all Paul said as he turned to pick up his own backpack. “Be certain, Grace.” Dane’s face was a mask now. No judgment. I trust you. She wasn’t certain of a lot of things. Would she be able to keep up? Could she kill? Is this how she wanted to spend the end of her life? But, of one thing she was certain. Whatever she did in these final hours would be done at Dane’s side. Live or die.
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“I’m certain.” He nodded once, turned and caught the pack that Robert threw to him. As Paul handed her a smaller pack, Lisa walked in with Ramon at her side. “Bad news,” she said. “Ramon says that Grayson came to him and his men saying that I’d given orders for a final mission. One that would help secure the escape of our people.” Lisa pursed her lips and looked intensely at Paul. “He took three volunteers and a whole hell of a lot of explosives.” “What’s he going to do with explosives?” Grace asked. “He didn’t say,” Ramon answered. “Volunteers?” Robert’s voice held something that caused Grace to look at him. His mask was in place. “Yes,” Lisa answered, but her tone, like Robert’s, seemed to hold more meaning than Grace could comprehend. The room had grown still. “He told them it was a suicide mission.” Paul studied the rebel leader. His gaze moved over her “What else?” he asked. Lisa’s eyes darted toward Robert and then just as quickly found their way back to Paul. “He left a message for Robert.” Robert continued to strap on the pack and check his weapons. He didn’t look up when he spoke. “What’s the message?” “He says you’ll find your wife in the Colonel’s quarters at the land center.” **** The fog was dense in some areas, thin in others. Sometimes she could see the men in front of her, but more often she had to rely on Dane’s steady hand to guide her. It was over six feet now. The orders to kill anyone out in the fog would have been given. They were all moving targets. Dane had given her a quick lesson in some of the hand signals they would be using to communicate. As the men ahead stopped near a dumpster, and then fell back into an alley, she wasn’t able to make out all of the hand signals. But she knew enough. Someone was coming this way. They remained with their backs against the wall as several people went past them. The fog wasn’t as thick here, and Robert squatted down, pulled out a penlight to look at the map. Paul moved forward to keep a look out. “We split here,” he told Dane. “I thought we were waiting to split at the pier?” Grace wondered why the change in plan. “It’s not safe ahead,” Robert answered. “But people are just roaming around the streets here,” she said, and nodded in the direction those few people had gone. “They aren’t roaming,” Robert assured her, “They’re running from something. Something up ahead. Something that probably saw them already.” “Robert,” Dane called his attention. “Paul has the frequency set so it changes every thirty seconds. But he’s using Grayson’s technology. So, Grayson may be able to
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hear us.” Dane checked his headset settings against Robert’s. “Keep communications short.” Robert only nodded. Grace wondered what was going on inside the silent workings of his mind. He’d not spoken to anyone, unless he had to. Something in his eyes spoke of things less than human. Savage things that could kill, and feel nothing. Those eyes moved to Paul, then back to Dane. “He’s just like Grayson.” Robert’s mask held in place. “One thing…and he’s dead.” Grace swallowed hard. Robert’s need for violence, for revenge, had a life of its own. She feared for Paul. But there was nothing she could say that would penetrate Robert’s cold heart. “Right now he’s on your side,” Dane reminded him. “Don’t make a mistake you may regret.” Robert’s cold warrior eyes moved slowly over Dane. Grace wondered if Robert even saw his brother-in-law. Shuffling feet brought her attention to Paul. He kneeled down in their little circle, and looked to Dane. “Timing is everything,” Dane said to everyone, but his gaze was on Paul. “We can’t give away that we’re trying to stop them, until everyone is in place. If they know, they might detonate prematurely.” “I’m getting her out of there,” Robert seemed to think Dane was saying more than just his words conveyed. “I won’t leave her this time. Not for anything, not for anyone.” “I’ll be waiting for your signal,” Paul answered. He seemed reflective for a moment, holding his own private counsel. Then his gaze found Grace. “Be careful.” Grace wondered how a face, once so stunning, now, nearly half metal, could still convey such emotion. Instinctively, she reached out and grasped his hand. She squeezed it, let the warmth of her own reach him. As she let go, she wondered if she would ever see him again. Robert tapped his forearm twice and gave the signal to split. Paul went back to his position, and signaled when it was safe to move out. Grace flipped out the metal rod of her headset. Six inches. They plugged in. It was time. **** A glitch in his headset caused Grayson to stop. He motioned his men behind him. He flicked the channel and smiled to himself. They were all hooked up. All he had to do now was get to his objective first. It wouldn’t matter if they stopped the bombs or not. Not now. He motioned to the men. They were on the move again. Dead men walking.
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Chapter 22 Grace wondered how Dane could find his way in the thick fog. He’d attached a 6-foot bungee-cord from his belt loop to her hers, in case they got separated. She missed holding his hand, but understood the necessity of being able to access weapons immediately. They inched forward at a rate that caused her to make an effort at not shuffling her feet. Dane tugged once on the cord to indicate she should watch her footing. The cord went slack and she stopped. Neither of them moved. She strained to hear. Waves lapped at tethered boats, rocking them gently in the water. The occasional red beam of light no longer scared her like it did the first time she saw one. Dane had pointed out that the light gave away the position of any cyborg. The light had become a tool for them. Grace thought of the conversation they’d had back in the tent as they readied to leave. Paul told them to expect the fog to become thicker around the bay. The fog was hiding a secret. A military ship, waiting there to detonate a bomb full of Fool’s Gold. Grace thought of a painting she once saw. She thought the artist’s name was Goya. He had lost his mind during the Napoleon invasion. A quiet artist that had painted beautiful landscapes until violence struck. The obvious evils of men had shown themselves, and his mind simply broke. After he died, they’d found a painting on the wall of the man’s kitchen. Saturn devouring his children. A god who was to protect them … had cannibalized them. The image of it stuck in her mind, gruesome and bloody. Its meaning somehow ironically connected to this day. Grace jumped when Dane’s hand grabbed blindly at her forearm. She forced herself to calm, when his hand slipped down her arm to take her hand. As they moved forward, the concrete turned to wood. She prayed that the creaking planks would blend into the sounds of the night. A quick squeeze of he hand and he stopped. Dane had a boat on a private pier. A small one he used when he went out on his own to dream up beautiful music and great inventions. The chance of hitting another boat was much less. Grace hoped Dane could find his way in the ocean as he had on the streets. Carefully they boarded, and untied the boat from the pier. **** Paul lost sight of Robert as they neared the Hyatt apartments. The man had a death wish. Reckless. The fog was heavier now that they approached one of the ten fog machines in the city. A red laser light show tapped out a deadly rhythm in the sky. Cyborgs. At least a dozen of them patrolled the area, securing the machine. Paul found that his headset enabled him to see through his dead zombie eye. It was hooked in to a control center. There was no telltale red, laser light, but he could see. No doubt Grayson had come up with a way to restore his own eyesight. Using Grayson’s
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technology, he’d wondered why the man didn’t wear a headset all the time. To let the rebels think he had a handicap? He couldn’t figure Grayson out, and that bothered him. You have to know your enemy. But what would make Grayson so willing to let someone die trying to gain data from a military hook-up, and then use a tranquilizer gun on those same people later? An unexpected sound put Paul’s attention on a nearby pile of dead bodies. Gun in hand, he moved in that direction. If it was Robert, he’d just as soon not have the man at his back. Faces, purple and bloated stared at him. How many times had he seen such atrocities without a thought to the stories behind those eyes? Before the unfamiliar emotion could be named he stamped it out. He turned off any feelings that might have taken hold of his soul. He wouldn’t think of them again. Perhaps he wasn’t as human as he’d hoped. From his peripheral vision he saw movement. Someone there, in the pile of death, hid a beating heart. As he moved forward, leaning closer to several faces, he scanned them. It registered that one face was still pink just before the eyes snapped open, and an arm came up to smash him in the head with a hammer. Paul stumbled back, his gun hitting the pavement behind him. The metal tore again from his face allowing blood to stream down his neck. The man hadn’t had enough room to get a good shot in, but as Paul cleared his vision and looked up, the man stood there, swinging again. Paul didn’t step back, but moved his body to one side. The hammer slashed through the air, missing him. When the man drew back again, another hand grabbed his arm to stop him. “Grayson.” Paul fought the inclination to take the hammer from Grayson, just as Grayson had removed the hammer from his assailant. “Soldier,” Grayson spoke to the man standing wide-eyed in front of Paul, “Stand down.” The words didn’t seem to register at first. Then, nervous eyes flicked toward Grayson. He didn’t so much relax, as he just stopped looking so damn terrified. “Get back to your assignment,” Grayson spoke low, but with great authority. No one would question him. The man took back the hammer, cast a last look at Paul, and scurried away into the fog. “How do you like having your full sight back?” Grayson wore a mask of indifference. Whatever lived inside that man’s soul was black, or void of all humanity. “It’s not safe here,” Paul stated. “Look again,” Grayson invited. Reluctant to take his eyes off of Grayson, Paul quickly glanced around the area. There was only the fog, which had started to thin out. “What’s going on here?” Paul wondered how Grayson had gotten rid of the AIM soldiers. “The data I wanted had nothing to do with a map for the rebels,” Grayson told him. “I’m taking out the fog makers.”
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“I don’t get it.” “If the fog doesn’t encompass the entire city, they can’t release the bombs. By daybreak, they’ll be caught with their pants down,” Grayson’s mask held, but something lived bright and ferocious inside his human eye. “It’ll leave witnesses to what’s happened. AIM soldiers. Military killing civilians.” “And what if they release the bombs?” “They might. But, I doubt it. It would spread so far, so fast, the bastards on that ship out there won’t have time to escape.” “That doesn’t mean the military wouldn’t sacrifice them,” Paul felt heat spread throughout his body. His gut clenched, and his muscles began to fill with energy. “You could be condemning all of northern California.” “It’s a calculated risk I’m willing to take,” Grayson moved, as though he could feel the heat of the other man’s anger growing. “Why not stop the bombs? Why not work with us?” Paul’s hands clenched into fists. “That was never my plan. And, I couldn’t be two places at once. You can’t think for a minute those rag-tag rebels could have pulled off something so covert it would fool the U.S. Military?” Grayson shook his head, as though he expected more from Paul. “I can take the fog makers out one at a time. I only need to take out five to destroy their mission. I’ve taken out two already.” “Why?” “I’m a simple man,” Grayson stopped, touched his scarred face thoughtfully. “Revenge.” “Revenge?” “I had a life once. Like you. I was a top technology scientist. Civilian. But Infinity Corporation got a government contract to make headsets for genetically engineered people, and my life changed. Infinity figured out how to assassinate people using a head set, but make it look like natural causes. When the military asked for the technology, Infinity wanted to renegotiate terms.” Grayson’s mask slipped and anger filled his features. “So what?” Paul said, unaffected by Grayson’s story. “You worked on a weapon for Infinity and when they wouldn’t hand it over the government turned you into a cyborg? My heart’s breaking.” “I had no idea Infinity was working on a weapon. The scientists were given small tasks, never told what the big picture was. But, you’re right, Infinity decided to put all the information together on a chip, hide the chip, and blackmail the government. That didn’t go over too well with Uncle Sam. To insure the technology couldn’t be duplicated, Infinity started killing scientists. It was a race. You were killed, or you were turned into a cyborg.” “It doesn’t give you the right to kill innocent people,” Paul tried to keep his voice emotionless. “Let me tell you about innocent people,” Grayson lost his calm, “Infinity got to my home first. It was my son’s fifth birthday. I was late to the party, but I recognized the van when I pulled into the driveway. When I got out of the car someone grabbed me,
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injected me with something. The last thing I saw was blood on the inside of the kitchen window. And then,” he paused, “I woke up in Detroit. Like this.” His hand found the scars again. “I don’t care.” Paul would worry about his loss of humanity later. He had a mission. And this walk down memory lane was over. “That’s too bad,” Grayson said, as he pointed his gun at Paul, “I’d hoped you’d see that we were the same. Between the two of us we could nail those bastards. You have knowledge of them, like me. But we had different…talents. Different resources. Between the two of us we hold a wealth of secrets. And let me tell you this soldier,” Grayson stepped back, but his gaze never broke from Paul’s, “You’ll dream. If you survive this … you’ll dream. When you do, you’ll come looking for me.” “I can’t let you do it,” Paul took a step forward, and was greeted by cold steel at his temple. “Then stop the bombs,” he suggested as he continued to move backward. Paul couldn’t see his weapon through the carpet of fog. There was no doubt that Grayson would kill him if he had too. Grayson was insane with his need for revenge. He watched the madman fade into the billowy fog. He saw only his outline, then he was gone. Paul searched until he found his lost gun. The land center was close. Grayson was a brazen bastard. Stopping the fog machines to expose the military was a good plan. But the stakes were just too high. Paul turned in the direction of his destination. He wasn’t like Grayson, he was still sane. But then again, he hadn’t had time to dream.
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Chapter 23 What seemed like a lifetime was only fifteen minutes. The further they got from land, the less dense the fog. That was great for navigation, but not when they lost their cover. It was a small boat, but with no one else around, it would be easy to spot. The darkness was a blessing, although Grace hadn’t considered it to be, until now. They used the paddles, quietly slicing through the cold water. The ship was easy to spot, once you cleared the wall of dense fog. It wasn’t as big as she thought it would be, but, it was sleek, dark, and as sinister as death itself. There were no boats around the ship, nothing that might help them blend in. It would seem that everyone on board was in place. The US Military, a smooth-running killing machine. Grace looked back to the city, but only the tallest buildings could still be seen. It seemed to her that the fog was a fist, closing around the city, choking it. High rise apartment buildings, billion dollar businesses, vying for one last breath. The wind was cold. It was always cold. It didn’t matter what time of year, the bay breathed out winter. It would take a half hour to get to the ship. Dane watched the area, watched for soldiers. But Grace knew it wouldn’t matter. If someone saw them, it was all over. The only thing to do now was to move forward…and pray. As they grew nearer, Dane signaled for her to put the paddle away. He moved, quiet and slow, to sit next to her. “They aren’t prepared,” he whispered, “They probably did an initial sweep of the area, never thinking anyone would approach the ship now. But there’ll be soldiers on deck. You can count on it.” Her teeth chattered from cold. She nodded as he looked down at her. His arms came around to hold her, to warm her. He continued to watch the ship, as she burrowed into his warmth, to steal a moment, to gain strength. **** The bastards had her! Robert had killed two AIM soldiers before he made it to the land center. He’d kill more before it was over. The thought did nothing to assuage the violence coursing through his veins, but there was satisfaction in it. It would take some time for them to find the dead AIM soldiers. He’d ripped off their headsets right away. There was no way of knowing how often they checked in, but the stillness of the building told him nothing had been discovered yet. The large hunting knife dripped blood on his shoes. The sound echoed in his ears like the tinkling of the glasses inside, as someone poured a drink. Grayson gave him information for a reason. Without knowing that reason Robert had to operate from the belief that he was being set up. Every nerve-ending was electrified, his senses acutely heightened.
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He had no choice. He had to look for Stephanie where Grayson had told him. Finding where the colonel’s room was had been easy. It was listed in black and white on the diagram they’d downloaded. He circled the side of the building, counting the minutes it would take for the patrol of AIM soldiers guarding the building to come back around. They were arrogant in their confidence, but why wouldn’t they be? They were experienced at this. Killing. Covert operations. Detroit. Robert moved, silent, steady, deadly. Beneath the window he crouched, listening and learning. Four men, not cyborg. They were eating, drinking and bragging. “I’ve already claimed half of Mission and Market,” a voice, deep with a southern drawl. “If this doesn’t get me a general’s star I’ll kiss Colonel Travis’ ass.” Loud laughs, more tinkling glasses. “Besides,” the southern colonel continued, “I was promised a bonus if I brought our lovely guest in alive.” The sound of someone getting out of a chair and walking filled the room. “Get your slimy, Big Brother hands off me.” Her voice made it difficult for him to breathe. Everything in him told him to buy a little more time, but he needed to see her. His life depended on seeing her alive. He moved cautiously, rising slowly to the balls of his feet. From the side of the window he could peer in. She sat in a plush, winged back chair. Her hands were tied in front of her, laying helplessly in her lap. The man in front of her moved away, laughing to himself. Robert’s heart ached. The right side of her face was swollen. Her lip had bled. What started as an ache turned to deadly calm. In his mind he replayed it. The sounds of her screams, the desperation he’d felt at losing her. Now there was white, hot hatred. He fought to keep his emotions under control. He knew he couldn’t continue to look at her. As he decided what to do next, he began to crouch down again below the window. But before he cleared it, he saw a reflection. Red. Light. Pain. Darkness. **** An increase in activity ahead told Paul he was near the land center. He ducked behind a dumpster, and turned the channel on his headset. Before he could bring the mouthpiece into place, he saw several AIM soldiers running toward the land center. He froze. One of them carried an unconscious Robert to the front of the building. A high ranking AIM soldier gave instructions. Two soldiers went at a fast pace around the building, and two more in the opposite direction. Two stood as sentries at the front door. Damn him! The mission was in jeopardy. If they had Robert’s headset, he couldn’t chance using it to communicate with the others. Paul scanned the area again. Think! He watched the soldiers patrol. He timed them. He’d have two minutes to get into the building if he were to follow his next plan. He checked his watch. Dane and Grace would be boarding the ship by now. They needed twenty minutes to find the detonation room. Paul wasn’t sure Robert had twenty minutes to live. Timing is everything.
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He would have to wait. And hope. **** Dane had timed the soldiers patrolling the deck. He waited, putting lifejackets between the small boat and ship to stay quiet. As he watched the soldier disappear, he pulled out the small harpoon gun. The hook on it was large, and he worried that it wouldn’t find a home on the metal ship. He took a shot, but it clanged over the railing, falling uselessly to the floor of the ship. Dane pulled in a long breath, let it out slowly. He had enough time to try once more before the patrol came back around. He pulled slowly on the rope, and cursed when the hook caught on something. He pulled harder, but it wouldn’t give. He tugged on the rope, getting a feel for it. He pulled himself up and out of the boat, but the hook came free, spilling Dane back into the boat, and sending the dangerous hook flying toward them. Dane grabbed Grace and covered her with his body. The hook flew by her and into the water. They both looked toward the ship. They stood still for another minute before Dane began reeling the hook back into the boat and reloading it. The next soldier was a big S.O.B. Dane figured him as nearly 300 pounds, about 6 foot 6 inches. Biggest grunt he’d ever seen, cyborg or not. He wasn’t someone Dane cared to do hand to hand with. It was less than a minute before the giant walked his round. Dane stood there thinking. Then he grabbed the lifejackets, and pushed the boat away from the ship. They floated away as the soldier came around the corner. “Grace?” Dane waited, “How much do you weigh?” He aimed, and before Grace could answer, he shot the hook through the large man’s chest.
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Chapter 24 She listened to struggled breaths in the darkness of the small room. No matter how hard she tried, Lisa couldn’t calm her nervous energy. All of those who could, left. A few older people, some ill, some injured, some unwilling, remained. Charlie stayed behind, and Rosa. Their sacrifice weighed heavy on her mind. Second guessing herself wasn’t something she was used to. It fed the nervous energy, which fed the second guessing. Could she have gotten Amanda out? She ran fingers through her hair, tucked a piece behind her ear and looked at the sleeping child. Amanda pulled in a large gulp of air, as though there wasn’t enough in the room. No, Lisa thought, this was the only answer. Footsteps outside her tent brought her around to see Charlie enter. A grim set to his mouth brought her to him. “What is it?” Lisa asked. “AIM soldiers,” Charlie’s expression told her everything before he spoke again. “They’re up top. They’re coming.” “Close the tunnel doors.” “It won’t buy much time.” Lisa looked beyond the soldier, through the open flaps where Rosa was helping an elderly woman sit down to eat. She closed her eyes, and could hear her sister’s breathing. “It’s okay Charlie,” she whispered, although it was no secret, “We don’t have much time.” **** Colonel Randal Travis walked into a mess. He’d gone out personally to see what had happened to one of their posts near the #3 fog maker. No one had checked in, so they sent a grunt out to scan. Grayson. He knew it had to be that arrogant bastard. The man had haunted him ever since Detroit. Now three foggers were down, and the mission was in jeopardy. Things weren’t going as smoothly as they had in Detroit. Then, walking in to a code three at the land center just topped it off. “What the hell is going on here?” Travis asked Colonel Sams as he came out of the interrogation room. “We got your report on the foggers,” he said, “Then, we found someone here on site.” “Grayson?” Travis was hopeful. “No. But whoever this guy is, he’s a professional. He took out some of men before we got him,” Sams said. “We think he may be the one who took out the #1 fogger.” “Then he’s one of Grayson’s. Where is he?” “Interrogation,” Sams nodded to the room he’d just left. “Good,” Travis said, the warmth of revenge caused him to smile. “I’ll be right
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in.” **** Dead eyes, still reflecting shock and pain, stared up at her. Grace’s arms ached from climbing, but the gloves Dane gave her had saved her hands from rope burns. She’d slipped several times before reaching the rail. She took the rope ladder Dane had given her, and secured it as he instructed. She glanced at her watch. Two more minutes and the next patrol would arrive. She held the ladder as steady as she could while Dane climbed, carrying both of their packs. He climbed over the rail and handed her a pack. “What do we do with him?” She asked. Dane looked at the heavy man, and all the blood. “There’s no time to hide him. And I doubt we could pick him up.” He glanced to the corner of the ship where they expected to see the next soldier arrive. Dane pulled out a hunting knife. Grace knew Robert had its mate. A gift, Dane had told her, from Stephanie to both men last Christmas. Dane motioned for her to hide. She crouched between a lifeboat and a crate, where she could see the soldier when he came. Dane disappeared before she heard the oncoming footsteps. Steps that echoed in her mind caused sweat on her brow. A black boot hit the deck, and then he was there. A tall soldier, black as night, lean but muscular, stopped dead in his tracks. She watched his eyes take in the scene, make sense of it. But, before he could speak his warning into his headset, Dane was there. She didn’t see where he came from, he was just there. The movement was swift, steady, and deadly. The cut was made before the shock registered. Bleeding and silent, the soldier fell. She swallowed hard. Dane’s expression, dark and full of violence, lacked humanity. He wiped the large knife off on the soldier’s clothing, and put it in a sheath at his side. She approached him, knowing she needn’t fear him, but unable to speak. The eyes that looked at her now, looked through her. Those eyes didn’t see a person. They saw a mission. For a moment she stood frozen looking at him. “Dane?” He blinked, recognition showing in his eyes now. No apology, no regret. He nodded in the direction of the rail where they’d come from. He walked to where his pack sat, put it on, and held out his hand to her. Lover. Killer. Savior. She took it unflinchingly, and they headed toward the stairs. They were going inside. It was time. And timing was everything. **** Paul watched the land center come to life. More AIM soldiers were added around the parameter. He’d recognized the colonel that’d just gone in. Couldn’t recall the name. Sadistic. He remembered that much. Paul moved out of the way of a scanning red light. He watched it crawl up the street behind him, and then it was gone as the AIM soldier turned the corner. Movement in the street forced him to move the dumpster, and get behind it. Two AIM soldiers carried the bodies of fallen cyborgs. Evidence removal. The soldiers went by, and Paul moved out. A glance, down the darkened street,
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then back to the land center, and he was on the move. Not toward the building where Robert and Stephanie were being held, but back to the fog maker, and the dead bodies. **** Dane stopped as they reached the inside. He pulled something out of his packet, checked it, and looked to Grace. “There’s electricity here,” he whispered. He brought a device up to show her. “A jammer.” He nodded to the video cameras at the end of the corridor. He threw a switch, the light turned green. “Let’s go,” he told her, “The jammer only works within 20 feet of us. If we’re lucky they’ll see the cameras come back on and think it’s a glitch.” He took her hand and led her down the corridor, and into a small room. He shut the door, looked around the empty cabin, and put his pack up on the table. “We might have five minutes,” he said, as he removed things from his pack. He threw a gun, another knife, another military headset and a map on the tabletop. He spread the map open. Grace watched him as his eyes and fingers moved across the map, deciphering, determining. He nodded to himself and glanced to her. “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of people on board right now,” he shoved the items back in his bad. “We just might make it out of here.” “Should we call the others?” Grace asked. The time had come. Live. Die. Survive. “We make our way to the room, then we call. We’ll have maybe another five minutes to shut it down before they can get to us.” Grace nodded. Dane put his pack back on, opened the door, and Grace screamed as a gun was shoved in his face.
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Chapter 25 The smell of blood, sweet and coppery filled Paul’s senses. Metal and flesh, such a waste. Laying there, among his own kind, he waited. Footsteps, measured, organized, echoed in the fog. Paul closed his eyes. AIM soldiers, grunts, had no need to speak to each other. They operated entirely from headsets. They were less human than the high ranking soldiers. The higher your rank, the more memories they could use and exploit. The more critical thinking options were allowed. The things that now approached were very much zombies. Electronics and skin, cold, thoughtless and obedient. Cold hands picked him up. He was tossed casually over a shoulder. Paul didn’t dare risk opening his eyes. He prayed his headset would remain in place. He hoped they would wait to do salvaging of the bodies. Pray and hope. That was all that was left to him, as he was carried and carelessly thrown upon a pile of dead, in a cold room. He was inside the land center. The two grunts dumped their load, turned and left. Paul waited, listened. He opened his eyes to see the face of a dead man. Half man, he corrected, half machine. He held perfectly still, as he looked as far as his eyes could see. Nothing. No one. Slowly he moved to take in more of the room. It was clear. Paul moved off a small pile of bodies, and took in the scene. There were at least twenty or thirty bodies. Grayson had been a busy man. Or, perhaps Robert had gotten enthusiastic. Or both. Paul searched his memory for the map of the land center. It came to him, like the stored data it was. Photographic memory, some would say. But, it was more than that. Because he was more than human. Without knowing where he was, he couldn’t get his bearings. He’d had to leave his pack behind. It wasn’t standard gear and would be noticed. He pulled a knife from a pocket in his pants. He put the gun in his waistband. There was only one door, only one way out. He stood where he was, listening. He looked to the bottom of the door where a small bit of light shone through. Nothing seemed to be moving. He was a ghost, silent and stalking. He stood to the side of the door, and leaned his head against it, hearing murmurs, far away. A loud slam of a door caused him to pull back. He put his back to the wall, gun drawn, waiting. Footsteps. “Juliana.” Paul didn’t recognize the man’s voice. More footsteps, clicking. High heels. They stopped right outside the door. “I want to go back to the ship.” She sounded haughty and petulant. “Things are getting out of hand here.” “Until you find that chip, you’re staying,” the voice was angry, strained. “So you might want to find it before the bombs go.”
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“It’s not my fault!” Juliana made an effort to keep her voice down, but from the tone, Paul could tell she was ready to scream. “The homing device malfunctioned.” “You should’ve had it replaced.” “There was no need! We had her in our sight at all time.” “Obviously,” he now lowered his voice, “Not all the time.” “This is just as much your fault as it is mine, Travis! This was your idea in the first place.” Rustling, footsteps and a loud thud against the door gave Paul the impression that Colonel Travis was growing tired of Juliana. He could hear the woman breathing hard just on the other side. “If anything happens to me, you won’t have the technology to reverse the tumor and she’ll die. If she dies, the chip will self-detonate.” Paul heard her move away from the door. “Then you better hope to hell we find her before the bombs go off Juliana. Because if she dies, you’re of no use to me.” Quick footsteps, purposeful and angry, walked away. Juliana remained. Her breathing was faster. A moment later and she, too, walked away. Paul stored the data. When he could hear no other evidence, of someone on the other side he quietly turned the doorknob. A crack, barely wide enough to admit light, allowed him to see into the hallway. He was at the end. Doors lined either side of the darkened hall. At the end of the corridor was the nerve-center of the operation. Men, and occasionally cyborgs, walked with urgency and intent back and forth in front of the open archway. The light reached to the center of the hallway, then began to fade. There was nowhere else to go, so he walked out. **** “Who are you, soldier?” The question, repeated for the tenth time, was followed by a hard fist. Blood flew in an arch across the table. Robert told him the same thing again and again. Nothing. A door opened behind him, and Robert could see her reflection in the window. She was followed by a man in his mid-fifties, in uniform. Robert’s blurred vision couldn’t make out the rank. “I’ll tell you who he is,” Juliana came around to stand in front of him. “Robert Rose. Captain Rose, if I’m not mistaken.” “You don’t get to keep your rank when you’re a traitor.” Travis moved into view. “Besides, he’s a civilian now. A real rebel-for-the-cause. Isn’t that right?” Travis pulled a chair over, and sat down in it. He pulled out a cigar, lit it and puffed quietly. The smell drifted into the room, took it over. “Come here to save your wife?” Juliana chose to stand. “I’m afraid the military may have use of her, Mr. Rose. Seems she has an inside informant that they need to…speak to.” “Want to see your wife, boy?” Travis leaned in, blew smoke, and studied him. Robert’s chin rest on his chest, but he raised his eyes, slow and full of death, at the colonel. The colonel grunted a laugh.
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“Yeah. I see you do.” “It’s simple really,” Juliana pushed something in front of his face. He tried to concentrate, to clear his vision. “You see this?” she asked. He blinked hard, and widened his eyes at the small square of light in her hand, but he couldn’t make it out. He blinked again, and saw that it was a portable video device. The same scene played over and over on a cyborg scanner video. Out at the docks, when they went after a high ranking AIM soldier, and came back with that freak of nature, Paul. It showed he and Dane, fighting to save Grace. It showed Paul go down. He saw himself, pointing a gun, then the video feed died. Well, he thought, there’s some satisfaction in that. He didn’t bother to hide a smirk. “Is that funny, boy?” Travis blew more smoke. Robert remained unaffected. “Tell us where that woman is Mr. Rose,” Juliana removed the video, “and we’ll let you see your wife.” When Robert said nothing, Colonel Travis stood, and moved Juliana out of the way. His meaty hand grabbed Robert’s chin, and soon Robert was nose to nose with Travis. “Continue like this, boy, and when you do see your wife, you’ll not like what we’re doing to her.” The sound that filled the room wasn’t human. It was rage and hatred announcing it had found a home. It filled Robert with an energy he’d never known. He lurched forward, and even tied to the chair, he took Travis down. **** Her wrists burned where they’d tied them together. Still, Grace struggled quietly as the two soldiers stood directly in front of her. Dane sat next to her. Their packs were emptied in a heap in front of them. Time was up. Grace wondered what Paul and Robert would do when they checked in, and got no response. Her gaze was drawn to the headsets. Their captors had removed them immediately. They were waiting. For whom, for how long, Grace didn’t know. But the city was about to die. She imagined that the fog had encompassed most of the taller buildings by now. A door opened bringing her attention to a young man in uniform. He couldn’t be more than thirty, but he was an officer. The others saluted him. “So, I hear that you were trying to escape the city,” he approached Dane as he spoke, “You saw the ship, and thought we might help you? Is that right?” “That’s right,” Dane answered. “Davis,” he called to one of the soldiers behind him. “Yes sir?” “Have we run a check on them?” “Checking now, sir.” The officer cocked his head, and frowned as he studied Dane. “I know you. You’re Thomas Dane. Rich boy. A real celebrity.” He smiled, seemingly pleased at his own intelligence. Dane moved a cold gaze over the officer. The officer approached Grace, and she could read his name on a gold badge. Tyson.
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“The real question is,” Tyson bent down inches from Grace’s face, “Who are you?” Grace remained silent. Unless she got some signal or word from Dane, she’d stay that way. Tyson came close enough that she could smell fish on his breath. She tried to will herself not to back away, not show her fear. But he knew. “You look like a sweet girl,” he whispered to her, “A worker, no doubt. Can tell that by your hands. Not a whore, no, you look too innocent for that.” He seemed to reflect, trying to solve the puzzle. “Are you a … ?” he glanced to Dane, and back to her, “a fan?” He smiled and pulled away. Grace was grateful. “You think I’m stupid?” Tyson’s mouth was tight lipped. “She has a military hook-up.” With that, he bent down, and picked up the head sets. There were three. Hers, Dane’s and one Dane had picked up earlier that evening. A special one, he had worked on. “Things aren’t looking too good for you,” he lost his smile, but the sarcasm held. “You killed two of my men.” He looked at Dane. “Pretty efficient for an artist.” He turned back to the soldiers. “See what progress we’ve made on identifying the woman,” Tyson ordered, sending one of the soldiers away. Tyson turned around so suddenly, Grace flinched as he approached her. She heard the loud crack before she felt the pain. The room spun as she fell backwards in her chair. She fell to her side, stunned. “Pick her up.” The world moved again, hands on her shoulder, on the chair, and she was sitting up. The taste of blood filled her mouth. The taste of fear. She couldn’t keep her heart from racing, her breath from coming in so fast it made her dizzy, but she would not talk. The Grace that woke this morning no longer existed. The old Grace would have cried. Would have tried to save what was left of her life. But that Grace, had nothing more important than her own life. Things had changed. This Grace swallowed her fear. This Grace looked at the heap of things on the floor, and saw her gun. Lisa’s gun. Her hand itched for it. Tyson grabbed her hair, and pulled it hard, bringing her face near his. “Tell me about this.” He pushed the military head set at her. She focused on it, nearly crossing her eyes it was so close. What she saw there caused her to smirk. Tyson watched her, and pulled again on her hair. “What’s so funny?” He hit her in the face with the head set. She didn’t want him to break it. “They’re coming,” Grace said, as she looked at the head set. “And you can’t stop them.” He let go. She almost tipped back, but leaned forward to balance herself. Tyson stared at her, and then glanced to the headset. He looked at Dane and her gaze followed. Dane sat there quietly his expression seemed to say nothing. But, not to Grace. Grace knew that look. She’d seen it less than half an hour ago. It fed her faith, her resolve. “There’s no one going to save you,” Tyson said, as he pulled his own headset off. “We’ll have them, tracked and dead, within minutes.”
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He flicked the rod down. As he studied it Grace felt her heart pound against her ribs. He pulled it over his head, the six inch rod slipping into place. The jolt that went through Tyson was slight. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he lurched forward. When Tyson fell, the soldier behind him immediately went to his aid. Dane threw his entire body weight into the kick. It connected hard with the soldier’s face, rocking him back, so he hit the wall with the back of his head. Dane was down. He scooted around until his hands reached the pile, and his knife. As Dane cut through the ropes at his wrists, Grace couldn’t take her eyes off the closed door. Seconds seemed like hours. Sweat beaded, and dropped into her eyes, stinging them. Dane was free. She was free. She grabbed the gun and followed Dane out. He stopped, looked around, and started moving quick and quiet up the corridor. He stopped again, by an open door, and peered inside. He threw the knife. She heard a noise. Dane signaled for her to stay, as he retrieved the bloody knife, and they moved forward. Noise, coming from behind them, moved them into the next room. Grace came around to see a soldier standing in front of a monitor. He moved, and she pointed the gun. He froze, and Dane took him out with the knife. “AIM soldiers,” Dane pointed to the monitor. A list of numbers, ranks and technology options, showed hundreds of AIM soldier’s positions in the city. Dane sat down, Grace quietly closed the door. “What are you doing?” she asked. “We’ll never make it to the detonation room. But, we can take those cyborgbastards out from here. And, we have to hope Paul and Robert can stop it from the land center,” he explained, as he began to read the screen. He pulled the headset off the dead soldier, plugged in, and pulled out the keyboard connected to the headset. A loud commotion outside caused Grace to look at the door. There was no lock. She turned back to watch Dane’s hands fly across the keyboard. Grace watched the small red dots begin to blink. One by one they began to go out. Footsteps outside grew louder. Dane turned his head as though he were listening. His eyes jerked toward Grace. “Kill on sight,” he repeated the orders he heard through the headset.
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Chapter 26 Anger made it hard for Robert to concentrate, hard to see clearly. Rough hands pulled him up and off of Travis. The colonel was fast for an old guy. A fist flew into Robert’s face before he’d registered that Travis stood in front of him. A sick snap echoed in his ears, and warm blood flew from his nose. “Put him in with his wife,” Travis breathed hard. “I’ll be in to attend to them, personally.” “We need the information,” Juliana said. “You’ll get it,” Travis told her. Robert watched as the colonel picked up his hat, and set it on his head. Then, the room spun. He lost sight of the colonel. His legs wobbled, but he moved. Or, more accurately, was moved, out of the room. They walked only two doors down the corridor before the door was opened. So close to her. As the two soldiers pushed him through, he cast a glance down the darkened hallway. Movement caught his eye. A lone soldier at the end, stood quiet and still. He lost sight of the soldier, as he was moved inside another room. As they pushed him into the corner and tied him to the chair, he saw her. She sat, as he last saw her, hands tied in front of her. Her cloths were dirty and disheveled. She’d lost one shoe. Her blouse was imprinted with smudges, some in the outline of handprints. Robert’s gaze took it all in, bruises on her neck, a cut that ran from her neck to her collarbone, disappearing behind the material of her blouse. As the soldiers secured him, and took their post beside the door, he steeled himself. Inside, the heat of violence bowed to the cold of his heart. He prepared, he breathed. He looked into her eyes. Her soul locked to his in that moment. The cold agony rose up like bile in his throat as he read her silent gaze. What had they done to her to put that look there? What had they done while he wasn’t there to protect her? Her steely gaze held him. He could read her. He always could. She appeared to be silent and still, but it wasn’t true. Her chest heaved, taking in short, quick breaths. Her nostrils flared as she pulled in those quiet breaths. She was talking to him. Her body was talking to him, with the shift of her weight, the set of her spine; her eyes. Her gaze said that she was afraid, for him. It said he shouldn’t have come. With all the intensity he saw living in those eyes their words tore through his soul. Helplessly, he watched her tears gather and fall. She’d made no sound, but she was screaming. Soldiers snapped to attention as the door flew open, and Travis walked in. Noises, panicked and loud filled the room. Robert heard shouting, running. One look at Travis, and Robert knew things were going badly for the US Military. The noises were dulled when the door shut, but they weren’t silent. The colonel
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pulled out a knife as he approached Stephanie. He stopped beside her, turned and faced Robert. Sweat poured down Robert’s back. Heat filled every muscle. Clenched teeth caused his jaw to ache. “It seems we have an emergency,” Travis announced. “And so we must make sacrifices.” The colonel glanced to Stephanie, his intent clear. “What do you want?” Robert asked, stalling, thinking. “Tell me where the woman is. The one …” Before Travis finished Juliana rushed in. “They’ve found her. She’s on board the ship.” “You’re sure?” Travis asked. “She was positively identified. They’ve lost sight of her, but she’s on the damn ship! We’ve got her! Let’s get the hell out of here.” Travis stood silent for a moment. Juliana’s excitement didn’t seem to reach him. He looked, first to Stephanie, then Robert. The knife, he’d held loosely, stood erect as he gripped it. With slow, measured steps he approached Robert. “Her, I can use,” Travis said, “But you … you I don’t need.” “No!” Stephanie screamed. “I’ll tell you anything. Anything!” Travis never hesitated, never looked back. “Yes, you will.” Three steps forward and Travis pulled back his arm to deliver the death blow. Despite the rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins, Robert saw everything move slowly. Stephanie stood. Juliana hit her. The door to the room burst open, and Paul opened fire. **** “They’ve breached,” Charles yelled, “They’re in!” “Go Charles,” Lisa grabbed him, shook him, tried to make him see through his shock. “I’m not going.” The man shook, tears of fear filled his eyes, but he stood there. “Come inside then,” Lisa told him as she pulled on him. “They’ll search each hive one at a time. Come inside so they don’t see you.” She led him inside. Her spacious room was filled. Rosa carried Amanda in her arms. Lisa looked from the sleeping figure, to the faces of the doomed. They were all silent. Waiting. Lisa watched as Rosa made her way through the crowd. As she stood next to her, Lisa ran her hand over Amanda’s hair. She bent down, kissed her head. Then her gaze went back to the slightly opened door. AIM soldiers filled the large tunnel. Thirty or more. Red lights reflected off the tunnel walls. Half went into complex one, half into two. From somewhere behind her, Lisa heard someone begin to cry. She was amazed and more than humbled that they’d remained silent this long. A small, organized group of AIM soldiers entered the hive. Two by two they spread out. A second group entered, then a third. Rosa’s hand took Lisa’s. Beside her, Charles pulled his gun. A large soldier, alone and obviously scouting, ran into the complex. He scanned
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the area quickly, but she couldn’t hear his report. He scanned again. Something was wrong. Two AIM soldiers approached her home. One stumbled. He righted himself. He began to move, and stumbled again. He fell. He lay there. He didn’t get up. The second one fell. Lisa stopped breathing, as Charles moved closer to the door. Her lungs burned. Another soldier fell. Charles opened the door slowly, just a little. Another one fell. Lisa looked to the high ranking soldier, but he was gone. He lay crumpled on the ground. **** It hadn’t taken long for Dane to put on the soldiers clothing. He put the body behind the door. As he took the man’s weapon, he paused and walked back to the monitor. Red blips continued to go out. His hand went to his headset, he frowned. Grace looked at him, waiting. Before he could speak she heard them outside the door. “Mission aborted,” someone yelled. “Code 17! We have a code 17! Fog machines are sabotaged!” The door flew open, almost hitting Grace. The young man’s eyes were wide. His breath was fast, panting and excited with fear. He looked straight into Dane’s eyes. “Mission’s aborted. Everyone’s falling back. We gather all equipment from the city, and we’re outta here! We leave in 30! With or without!” Then he was gone. The door stood open and Dane casually closed it. “Someone’s shut down the fog machines,” Dane said, nodding to himself in reflection. “Paul?” she asked. But it didn’t matter. “What happens now?” Dane was still listening, but he began to move. “They’re retrieving the bombs,” he told her as he took out a pair of handcuffs. “The AIM soldiers hold no country insignia. No evidence.” Grace’s mind spun with the news, and fear, and hope. The government would cut its losses and run? What other choice was there? She looked up as Dane approached. “We’re getting out here,” he told her. “Turn around.” They stepped out in the corridor. She was a prisoner again. Dane walked with purpose, fast and hard, toward the exit. His hat was pulled down to hide his face, but no one looked at him. Obviously, aborting the mission wasn’t something the military had planned well for. People pushed past them, barely acknowledging their presence. They turned, and headed up the stairs. Outside was pandemonium. Boats were coming in. Men, not AIM soldiers, were returning from land with equipment, evidence. Grace looked toward the city. The fog had receded, and the high rises took possession of the skyline again. The fog-line was lower than when she last saw it, before they boarded. And it was thinning. She could see the outline of the piers. “What are you doing?” A soldier had collided with Dane, and now looked questioningly at Grace. “The prisoner’s to be executed on land,” Dane told him. Private Rand only nodded, as he saluted Dane and apologized. “Where’s a boat I can use?” Dane asked. “Starboard.” He nodded, looked into the distance beyond Dane, and ran in that
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direction. Dane’s hand was cold as he took her by her wrist and moved her forward. They made the corner and saw soldiers unpacking equipment, some just arriving. Soldiers emptied boats and took orders. She watched Dane take it all in, could almost see him calculating. He walked her past most of the activity. When they reached a soldier just bringing up a ladder, Dane stopped him. “I’ve been ordered to return this prisoner to land for execution,” Dane told the lesser ranked soldier. “You’re gonna take her yourself?” he asked, eyeing them suspiciously. “You volunteering?” Dane asked. The man cast a look out at the city. His hand let go of the rope ladder, and stepped away. “No sir,” he said, respectfully, “I’m not.” Dane nodded and moved her forward. He took the cuffs off that he’d placed on her before they walked out. “Get down to that boat.” He pushed her forward and she began to descend. **** The two soldiers were dead. Paul held the gun on Travis and Juliana. Someone tried coming in through the door and Paul shot him. Another came, another shot. Voices screamed to evacuate. Lights, red and blue, blinked on and off, into the shadows of the hallway. Travis dropped the knife and went for his gun. As Paul turned from the doorway he froze. The gun was pointed at Stephanie. Travis kept his eyes on Paul as he moved, slowly, closer to her. “Stop.” Paul’s simple command worked. “I’ll kill her,” Travis warned. “She’s nothing to me,” Paul said. “You bastard!” Robert yelled. “No?” Travis asked. His gun moved, slightly and he took aim at Juliana. “We’ve got Intel on you,” he said to Paul. “We know who saved your life. Who you are willing to protect.” Paul was still. Of course they’d have Intel. There were videos from cyborgs, cyborgs who saw him rescued. “Stop,” he said again. Again, the colonel stopped. “Grace Sullivan saved your life, soldier,” Travis had little to bargain with, he was desperate. “If she dies,” he glanced to Juliana, and immediately back to Paul, “Grace Sullivan dies.” “I know your background,” Travis continued. “Who you were. What you were. Our analysts say you might have a sense of loyalty to Sullivan. Let’s test that theory.” Travis reached out and brought Juliana in front of him. He sidestepped around Stephanie’s chair. “Stop,” Paul said. He raised his gun and took aim. Paul calculated, zeroed in, and considered the odds. “Do you want her dead, boy?” Travis asked, as he put the muzzle of the gun to
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Juliana’s head. “No.” The shot rang out. Travis jerked once. Shock filled his face, then blood. He fell. Juliana fell to her knees crying hysterically. Paul glanced once at the door. No one was coming. Robert stood, and Paul walked toward him. He took out a knife and set Robert free. Robert grabbed Paul and pulled him close. “You’d have let him kill my wife.” “No,” Paul gazed into Robert’s hate-filled eyes. They stood there for a moment. “Robert,” Stephanie’s voice brought him back. “He saved us.” Robert blinked and nodded. There would never be a way to know if Paul was telling the truth. Robert thought, looking now at his wife, it didn’t matter. Robert took the knife from Paul and went to free Stephanie. As her arms came free they wrapped around his neck, and he felt the heat of violence leave him. The cold was gone now. There was only her. There had always been only her. He locked her in an embrace. Everything flooded in. Losing her. The scream. Not knowing if she was alive. His body shook violently. A sob caught in his throat. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, taking her in. And when she looked up at him, he kissed her. It was a hard, claiming, brand that ended in softness and love. “We need to find the others,” Paul had Juliana by the arm.
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Chapter 27 Bodies lay like a path into the city. Grace thought about all the red dots on the monitor, and figured there had to be at least two hundred AIM soldiers. Maybe more. “They’ve left a lot of evidence,” she said to Dane, as they made their way to the underground. His gaze took it in as they walked the path. “They have no insignia. No way to trace who they belong to.” “Who else could pull something like this off?” She asked. “There are five countries that come to mind,” he told her. “At least two that hate this country enough.” But there had to be more evidence. Witnesses. Something. She refused to believe there would be no trace. She prayed that Robert and Stephanie made it out alive. They’d expose the government. They’d know what to do. Grace gazed far into the distance. She thought they were near the rendezvous point. No one would’ve waited this long would they? But as they neared the turn that would put them near the entrance of the underground, Grace heard shuffling. Footsteps. Dane slowed, and his arm went out behind him, sweeping her the wall. She watched him. He scanned their immediate area. He leaned slowly to peer around the corner. His hand took hers. The other hand held his gun. Grayson. Grace felt the cold steel of her gun before it registered that she’d drawn it. He’d stopped when he recognized them. Two soldiers walked beside him, guns drawn. “Well, well, well,” Grayson said. His dark glasses were on despite the night. “Look who’s here. Better late than never I guess.” “What are you doing Grayson?” Dane’s gun aimed at the man’s head. “Don’t shoot,” Paul walked from the alley. He had Juliana by the arm. Robert and Stephanie appeared behind them. Grace’s throat went dry. Her heart pounded in her ears. Wetness burned behind her lids. She watched Paul walk cautiously around Grayson and his men. His gun was drawn, but not aimed. “Stephanie,” Dane whispered the name as though he couldn’t contain it. His warm hand found hers again, and they began to walk. But, Dane was aiming. Grace watched his steely gaze trail Grayson, as they moved to meet Paul and the others. Grayson never moved. Grace watched as Stephanie ran toward Dane, and embraced him. Robert took aim at Grayson. Dane nodded at his brother-in-law, holstered his gun, and wrapped his arm around his sister, still unwilling to let go of her hand. “Grayson stopped the fog machines,” Paul said. “He’s the reason they aborted the mission.”
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All eyes went to Grayson. The tall, imposing figure showed no emotion. Grace wondered how this had come to be. She watched as the rebel soldiers moved closer to Grayson. “I’m leaving,” Grayson’s gaze remained on Paul. “My mission isn’t over.” Grayson instructed the soldiers to go home. He turned and headed west, toward the water. No one moved. No one spoke. Grayson walked around the corner of a large building, and he was gone. The soldiers had lowered their weapons. “Permission to deliver a message sir,” the soldier Grace knew as Roger approached Paul. Paul stood, holding Juliana firmly. Roger moved slowly, carefully. Roger reached inside his jacket and Grace heard the cocking of a gun. Robert. Roger pulled his hand out, the other one already high in the air in an act of surrender. A piece of paper was handed to Paul. “What is it?” Dane asked. “Two contact numbers,” Paul said. “A doctor in Detroit.” He looked from the paper to the place where Grayson had disappeared around the corner. “And Grayson’s.” Dane leaned toward Paul. “What’s scribbled there?” He nodded in the direction of the paper in Paul’s hand. “A message for me,” Paul said, folding the paper, and tucking it securely in his pocket. “It says, ‘Don’t sleep’.” He looked then to Dane, his face a mask Grace had grown to recognize. “Grayson helped us?” Grace worried for Paul. “I guess so,” Paul said. Grace watched him glance again to the empty street. “What next?” Grace looked to Dane. “We have to get back to the rebel base until we know we’re safe.” “It’s not over,” Robert said. “People died. A lot of people. There’s no way to cover this up.” “You’d be surprised what they can cover up,” Stephanie pulled away from her brother to embrace her husband. “You’d be surprised what people will believe, if you put a story in their headset.” “Then you have to tell the story first,” Grace looked at the woman she’d admired for so long. Stephanie would know what to do. “They’ve removed all equipment,” Paul shared. “No black boxes, no traces of the bombs. Nothing. This was strictly covert.” “We have you,” Stephanie said. “One look at you and they’ll have to believe. When you tell them …” “No.” Paul interrupted. “Paul, we need to expose them,” Grace ignored Juliana, and moved toward him. “They’ll explain me away. Call me a terrorist, and find a way to kill me.” Paul looked at Grace and she watched that perfect mask slip. Regret. “Besides,” he pulled in a lungful of air and let it out in a rush. “I’m sure I have a family somewhere. Someone. Out there. If they know I survived this they may go after them. I have to find my family first.”
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“We have to do something,” Stephanie looked up, to Robert. Grace watched emotions play across his face, as he looked into the eyes of his wife. She’d never seen such devotion. Such love. Then Robert looked at Paul. Their gazes held, wordlessly they seemed to communicate. “Let him go,” Robert said, and then looked back at his wife. “He’s already a target, like you were. Like his family might be already.” Grace watched Paul’s hand come up to tap absently at the paper he’d put there. Her heart ached for him. It ached at the injustice of it all. Paul’s nightmare wasn’t over. And, neither was hers. That thought brought her attention to Juliana. “Did you learn anything?” Grace asked Paul, as her gaze remained fixed on Juliana. “Enough,” Paul said. “Enough to know that this woman can save your life.” Grace thought of the time that Juliana had hit her, and of the kitten she was sure Juliana had killed. Grace’s first brush with hatred was bitter and dark. She tried to swallow it down, but it stuck in her throat. She walked closer and looked Juliana in the eye. “You’re going to give me my life back,” Grace told her as her feelings caused her body to warm inside. “And if I die,” she looked at Dane now, and saw his heated gaze on Juliana, “You die.” Juliana brought herself up to full height. She stared daggers at Grace. “Same goes for you,” she spat. A crack echoed in the air, and Juliana went down. Grace rubbed her knuckles. “It won’t be the same,” she promised the woman who looked up from cautious eyes. She didn’t feel satisfied like she thought she might. What she felt was justice. But, she thought, weren’t they the same? Paul hauled Juliana to her feet. As they turned to walk into the underground, Lisa emerged with half a dozen men. Lisa stopped and looked up at the sky. Dawn was breaking. A natural fog would blanket the city. Grace thought it would keep people inside a little longer. The sound of machines coming to life brought Grace around to see a traffic light flicker. The city was coming to life. Electricity came with the sun. The city had begun to breathe. Grace watched as Lisa approached Paul. The beautiful rebel stopped in front of him. She cast a glance at Juliana, but it was Paul that held her attention. “I’m glad you made it,” she said. “I’m glad we all made it,” Paul told her. Grace saw his mask disappear. He frowned. “Amanda?” “We’re headed to the hospital before the mayhem. I thought you might come with us.” Paul continued to look at her wordlessly. He nodded once and glanced at Dane, but it was Robert who came to take Juliana. Paul and Robert stood there only feet away. Grace wondered what had transpired between the two men. “Thank you,” Robert said. Paul only nodded, as Robert pulled Juliana away. Paul looked at her then. Grace felt something cry out in her heart. Such a strong
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man, but so broken. She wanted desperately to help him, but she didn’t know how. When he stood in front of her, she threw her arms around him. “Be strong Grace,” he whispered, as he pulled away. “I am,” she answered. He looked at her, cupping her chin in his hand. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, and his eyes changed, brightened. “Yes,” he said as he studied her, “You are.” “We’re going to the underground base,” Robert announced. “Paul,” Dane called their attention. “The hospital. Whatever Grace needs.” Paul nodded. Lisa began walking and Paul joined her. “Wait,” Grace halted Lisa. “This is yours.” She handed the gun back. A changing of the guard. Lisa took it, held it for a moment, and handed it back. “You earned it,” she said. Before Grace could object Lisa turned her back, and walked away. Grace watched Lisa, Paul, and the rebels head east. When she turned back she found herself alone on the street with Dane. The sun rose, causing shadows to dance away. Cold nipped at her exposed flesh. Goosebumps crawled along her skin, and she rubbed her arms, as she looked at him. Grace watched his expression soften as he looked at her. They stood less than three feet apart, but Grace thought it was an ocean. Pain radiated from her heart to her fingertips. Longing. Need. Love. Grace wanted to say something, anything, do anything, to make him feel what she felt, but he couldn’t. He took a step forward, and her pain increased. The look in his eyes caused tears in hers. “I learned something from you Grace,” he said, as he took another step. “Not being able to love … only using a chip to love …” he stopped. She watched him struggle, but couldn’t help him. He put his finger beneath her chin and brought her face up. “I don’t need the chip. I never did.” “We have to do things sometimes ... I understand,” she began, but he shook his head and she held still. “No Grace,” he lowered his head, and her heart beat at his nearness. “I love you.” The warmth of his lips was felt throughout her body. And those lips told her it was true. She was accepted. She was loved. She mattered.
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Chapter 28 Everything was ready. The operating room wasn’t a sterile-white, but it was as sterile as a rebel base medical clinic could be. Grace looked into Paul’s concerned eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to find someone else?” he asked. “You said you remember enough to do this. Dane’s brought a private surgeon to assist. I’m sure.” She had assured him several times this morning, and even more last night. Thanks to Lisa, they had all the equipment they needed. Medical supplies, drugs, even the hospital gown she was wearing had been procured by Lisa and her loyal followers. Juliana was cuffed to a chair just outside. If things went wrong, they’d go wrong for her, too. There could be no state-of-the-art hospital care with the government looking for her. It was Juliana’s fault, her chip, her betrayal, and it would cost her dearly if the less than high tech accommodations cost Grace her life. Dane’s warm hand slipped into hers. His dark eyes penetrated her very soul, searched her and was satisfied with what was there. If he was uncertain of Paul, it didn’t show. “Any word yet on the news?” It was soothing to think of things other than her surgery. It was soothing to think of what was to come next. “Soon.” He squeezed her hand. Her vision was suddenly filled with Paul’s masked face. “It’s time,” he said. He nodded to Dane and the warmth in her hand fell away. “We’re going to count backwards from one hundred,” he instructed. “100 … 99 … 98 … 97 …” **** “Come on. You’re not going to start with that cover up theory again?” The reporter badgered Stephanie, but Stephanie was unaffected. A popping sound, then a slight glitch to the headset made her heart race. Everything focused. Grace willed herself to remain calm. Be patient. Think of other things. The headset was fine again. Grace had seen it too many times. They’d labeled Stephanie a whacko. They’d hurt her career. And her insistence that what happened in San Francisco was done by our own government, was labeled as un-American. Newspapers told of how American soldiers died stopping the terrorist threat. The country should be proud. We had won. San Francisco was saved. Grace unhooked. She couldn’t take it anymore. She burned with fury every single time. But she had to admit without Stephanie taking the heat in the public eye, they’d most likely be dead by now. As it was, they had to be very careful. Help the
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rebels relocate. Lay low for a while. Dane continued to make music and make money. It was all pre-recorded, so the government had a hard time tracking him. Dane was wealthy and he was smart. They would be able to live out the rest of their lives from his hidden assets. Grace sighed, as she stood on the balcony of the rebel safe house. She’d been in tunnels for so long the sunlight hurt her eyes. The sun warmed her skin, making her smile. It felt good to smile. The sound of running water stopped. Soon Dane was next to her, his water from his wet hair dripped down her neck as he pressed his cheek to hers. He held there, stealing her warmth. “Any word from Paul or Lisa?” she asked, as she soaked up the water, and the love. He pulled away shaking his head. He sat on the only chair in the room, pulling her down into his lap. “No. They should’ve made it to New Detroit by now,” he frowned. “Paul said they had enough medication to keep Amanda stable for a week.” She lay her head back against him. “I hope he gets his full memory back.” He kissed the top of her head. “Me, too.” “I had a glitch in my headset,” she admitted. His arms pulled her in tight, and he nuzzled her neck. She knew the removal of the chip had been hard on him. Now, they both waited to make sure the tumor would shrink and disappear as she used Juliana’s technology. Infinity’s technology, she corrected. The chip was destroyed. Grace thought of how angry Juliana had been at them as they did it. Now Juliana was screaming in a rebel jail, where she belonged. “I’ll check the frequency tonight, at the lab,” he promised. “Grayson left the paperwork on the unlisted frequency he created, but it’s new technology. There’ll be problems at first.” “You’ll figure it out,” she smiled again, as he started kissing her neck. “It’s your thing.” She gasped as his hand cupped her breast. His thumb made leisurely circles around her nipple before caressing over it, and causing her to writhe. “I love you, Grace,” he whispered, causing sparks of energy and joy to course through her veins. “Show me,” she breathed out the whisper. As he convinced her, slowly and thoroughly, out on the balcony overlooking the ocean, she tasted the fresh salt air. The warm wind caressed them. His words were music. Her body tingled. This was life. Her life. And everything in it … mattered.
The End
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S. F. English lives in Kentucky and spends a great deal of time in California. She completed her first full-length novel at the age of ten and has been writing ever since. As an international lecturer on clinical science, Mrs. English has utilized her scientific background to add to the realism of this book. She lives with her husband, daughter, son, nephew, a fish named Ariel and two very silly dogs. You can write to her at
[email protected] or visit her Web site at www.sf-english.com.
