Cammy stepped out of Banks in front of the Arlington Memorial Library. The place had always struck her as more like a portal to an ancient ruin than a modern library built in the aftermath of the war with the way the steepled entrance seemed dug out of the side of a massive hill and how the seamless smoky white marble sported way more curves than edges.
Mum, I feel I must remind you that our flight is in five hours.
“I know, Banks. We won’t miss it. I’ll come and find you in the lot after I’m done.”
Might I ask what we are doing here, mum? I thought you might be eager to get back to work.
“I need a place to unplug for a while, Banks. Not sure how many times you’ve died in the past few days, but, trust me, it leaves you a little on edge.”
I can't say I understand, mum. Nonetheless, I hope you find some measure of comfort here. I will be unable to accompany you.
“See you soon, Banks. Make sure to mess with the valet.”
It is the small things that bring light to my world, mum.
Cammy took the steps eagerly, two at a time. She didn’t lie when she’d said the multiple deaths in B-10-13 had left her on edge, but it was something else too. A feeling.
Inside, the library was all warm browns, low tech bulbs, and noise absorbent carpets. Colored arrows directed Cammy to the right where a sign read “No outside digital devices.” The woman at the desk, after a short greeting, took Cammy’s earpieces, wallet, and phone and was in the process of handing them to an attendant, but the phone lit up in her hand, the default ringtone blaring noisily from the little box.
The librarian turned to Cammy quizzically, the unspoken question of “do you want to take this” in her eyes. Cammy sighed and made a 'gimmie' gesture with her fingers.
-->Call from: Patty Maldonado: Answer?<--
Cammy frowned at the phone, her eyebrows scrunching together and her pulse quickening. She’d just been taken off this case… again. A record of communication with Patty was something she did not need right now. However, Patty was a nice lady in a bad spot, and if anything pertinent came up, Cammy could report it to the right people this time instead of going rogue.
She put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Patty. Good to hear from you.”
“Agent Johansen. I’m so glad I got a hold of you.”
“Yeah, that was lucky,” Cammy replied, walking away from the desk and keeping her voice low to be polite to the other library patrons. “I was just about to be out of touch for a while.”
“Oh! Sorry. I don’t want to keep you, but I also really want to thank you.”
Cammy blinked, her brain short circuiting at that. “Uh. For what?”
“Oh. Okay. You don’t know then. Wonderful news: Brian’s awake. He woke up at the perfect time too. The kids and I were here, visiting him, and suddenly there he is, awake and wanting his breathing tube out. He's weak, but he's back with us.”
“That’s amazing, Patty,” Cammy exclaimed as quietly as she could, a warm, sincere grin on her face, her first since the assessment. At least someone was getting their happy ending. “I’m so happy for you and your family.”
“That’s not all. Maybe 10 minutes after Brian wakes up, a Company rep, Mr.- Uh. I forget his name. Something like Smith. Anyway, he’s there with a job offer. Contractor work for the foreseeable future. That’s why I wanted to thank you. The hotel room. The hospital bill. Now this. You’ve been so good to us.”
“I- Uh-” Cammy stuttered, drawing a blank, her mind racing down pathways that looped around and doubled back to collide with one another. "I'm sorry?"
“It’s okay. It’s just that we’ve been struggling for a long time. Our situation had gotten a little better recently, but then Brian was attacked and then the house burned down. Now- Oh my God. Whatever you did. Thank you.” The mic on Patty’s end picked up a little sniffle, no doubt relieved tears were rolling down the beleaguered woman’s cheeks. “Thank you, Camilla.”
“I don’t-,” Cammy started, her mind racing to catch up. “You’re welcome, Patty. Not sure what I did either, but I’m so happy for you guys. Hug your boys for me.”
“I will. Anyway, I won’t make this weirder than I have to. Thank you. Have a great day. You're like my little, gun-happy angel. Remember that.”
Patty hung up on her end, and Cammy found herself passing the phone over to the attendant with numb fingers.
In a daze, Cammy walked the familiar route past the security station and into the library proper.
All around her there were books. The library was built like a missile silo or maybe a giant bore hole, cylindrical with a railed ramp going counterclockwise down and down and down. The only breaks in the spiral pattern were landings where sets of comfortable chairs and wooden desks awaited those that wanted to sit and read. The air was still but not stuffy, cool but not cold.
What purpose did hiring Brian Maldonado serve? He was a handyman from what Cammy had gathered from Patty, but that was it.
Paying the bill for the hospital visit, Cammy had no problem understanding. They’d just been attacked by a monster, then, again, by the mountain of man-meat that was Hugh. Paying the bill was just good PR.
Why this new thing? What did Brian have to offer the Company?
The Company’s mission statement “We work for the elevation of mankind“ came to mind, both vague and aspirational just like any good slogan.
Was the statement actually true? Maybe. Still, the Company didn’t just give people things, not without purpose.
Cammy had just gone through a day long torture session just for having the temerity to get into a firefight. If they were willing to grind her under their boot to get what they wanted out of her, they were certainly not above… what?
She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else there, a monster in the darkness outside her bedroom window. One that hid behind the glare on the glass. A monster that she couldn’t see unless she turned off the light. Despite how much it frightened her, she felt compelled to reach for the switch.
In front of her was an open air elevator with rails made of shining brass, a means of conveyance for those that knew what floor they needed and didn’t want to waste time with the walk.
She opened the gate and got in, pressing the button for A4.
The elevator silently descended to the bottom floor of the silo, past ten floors of comfortable alcoves and sturdy wooden desks behind which clerks pored over thick tomes and took handwritten notes. Near the bottom floor, the book shelves gave way to bare stone walls with several doors that led into the branching basement archive rooms that the library had to offer. Most of them just contained rows upon rows of periodicals and hard copy photos. The door she chose, however, was labeled “Archivist.”
Through the door, she entered a dark room, the only illumination coming from a wall of computer monitors turned to face away from her to cast a vibrant blue on the wall behind. Stacks of papers and cardboard boxes sat piled around the desk, reminding her of Firebreak's little storage room. The *click*click*click* of an unseen mechanical keyboard echoed in the air.
As the door shut behind her, someone called out, a high, raspy male voice that brought back fond memories of cheesy books and sunlight streaming in through dusty basement windows. “Can I help you?” It asked.
She seized upon that familiarity, using it to get her whirling thoughts back under control, to remember the reason this was her chosen sanctuary.
“It smells like pickled nerd in here,” Cammy replied, wrinkling her nose but unable to suppress a grin. “So, you live and work in a basement now?”
“C?” A chair squeaked from behind the desk and a rotund figure poked top half up and out of the clutter, the glow from the computers reflecting off of thick, rectangular glasses.
“Hey, Wade,” Cammy greeted him with a little wave. “How’s things?”
The overhead lights flickered and blazed white, forcing Cammy to squint, and by the time she’d regained her sight Wade was already out from behind the desk, his cargo shorts and wrinkly graphic t-shirt worn just the way he always did. He came in swiftly for a full body hug, which Cammy returned, finding the warmth a refreshing change of pace from the rest of her life in the past week or so. Her friend smelled like processed sugar, cheap cologne, and twice recycled clothes, but that was part of his charm.
When Wade pulled away, he brushed a little tear from his eye underneath his glasses then set about straightening a pile of folders that didn't need it, salvaging some semblance of masculine stoicism. Cammy pretended not to notice.
His man card still intact, Wade turned back to address his guest. “C. How've you been? Last I heard you were doing the Company thing, and your dad was pissed,” Wade said with a sympathetic wince.
“Yep. Agent Johansen, Liaison Extraordinaire. I’ve got a card and everything.” Cammy kind of wished she’d brought her I.D. to show off, but it, too, was electronic, prohibited in this library. She ignored the part about her dad.
Wade beamed up at her, fully on board with steering the conversation toward careers as opposed to family stuff. “Awesome. You get assigned yet?”
“I did.”
“To who?”
Cammy shrugged. “You wouldn’t know him. Not yet, at least.”
“Hah. Are you challenging me?” His voice dropped an octave, and his face took on mock intensity. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Far be it from me to challenge King Nerd, but my guy is pretty obscure,” Cammy placated. “No hero work yet.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Wade’s expression was dubious. “Did you know of him before you got assigned? Sure, I’m me, but you’re no slouch on super stuff either.”
“Not at all. Very private. Probably shouldn’t reveal too much.”
“Fine. Fine. I still maintain that I would know your guy, though, even if it’s just the codename.”
Cammy raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh, I’m sure you would. Honestly, I just came to hang out and maybe pick your brain about how to build up my super, but I-” Cammy paused for a moment, the Maldonado case swimming just beneath the surface of her thoughts. “There was this other thing too.”
“What do you need to know, and why me? Doesn’t the Company have, like, all of the data there ever was?” Wade asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“Probably," Cammy hedged. "but it would help to have someone less conventional to talk to.”
A smug smile spread itself across Wade's face. “You need a conspiracy nut.”
“I need a conspiracy nut.”
“I figured you’d have access to way more than I’ve got here along with some fancy AI to help you search it up. Again, why me?” Wade asked skeptically. He did everything skeptically.
Cammy winced. “Well, the Company doesn’t really want me working on this particular thing.”
“You’ve been on their payroll for, what, a few months, and you’re already bucking the rules.”
“Yes? Also, no. I didn’t plan on doing this, and anything I come up with, I plan to report.”
“Sure. Sure," Wade chided. "I’m not helping you commit a crime or anything am I? Are Company goons going to come put me to sleep?”
That was a dark place to go. “You think they do that?”
“Of course,” Wade said, a little pitying scoff escaping his mouth like steam from a kettle. “So naïve. Everybody's hands are dirty in D.C.”
Cammy found a clean corner of the desk to lean against and rested her legs. “I just wanted someone I could trust. If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. We can just hang out and catch up if you feel uncomfortable. Honestly, I’m just enjoying being unplugged for a while.”
“Not a big fan of the surveillance state, eh? Not going to say I told you so, but- Anyway. Why go against your employer so early in your career? It sounds like they want you doing other stuff.”
Cammy had to think about that one. If she had to lock it down, she’d say the whole situation felt wrong to her, like it was a puzzle with the pieces not only missing but painted over. There were some things she wasn’t meant to know, but what she didn’t know had already tried to kill her.
She did her best to explain. “Yes, they told me as much but it was- I don’t know. It was weird how it happened okay? And there’s a family caught up in the middle of it that I’d like to help, and these particular bad guys already tried to kill me. I just- I can’t stop thinking about it. Plus, I think my super won’t want to let it go either.”
“Okay!” Wade said in a sing-song tone, off to the races now. He cheerily rubbed his hands together and waddled back into his nest of papers and computer monitors, calling for Cammy to follow. As he sat down, he reached down into a backpack and slipped a drive blade into the computer’s swap port. “What do you have to go on?”
Cammy thought back to Hugh. “The guy I’m looking for has a distinct look to him. Tall. Caucasian. Bald, Funny shaped head. Super strong and durable. Probably an altered.
Wade’s fingers danced over the keyboard, commands popping up on his monitor in the upper corner only to disappear in a flash. “The bald thing is pretty common. Altered are mostly made using hormones and DNA splicing, and the hair is the first thing to go. Then there’s sterility too. Did you get a good look at-”
“No, Wade. Jeez.”
“Okay. Okay. Sorry.” Wade looked anything but sorry. He was in his element now. “What about his back? Specifically his spine.”
“No.”
“Hmmm. The funny shaped head thing. How funny?”
“It looked squared. Not grotesquely so, but it had some near right angles.”
“Super tough skin? Stamina?”
Cammy remembered back to the loading dock where she’d faced the super down. “He was burned pretty bad when I saw him last, so I don’t think so. As for stamina, he was breathing really hard, like he’d just run for miles, so not infinite.”
Wade typed in a couple commands and a sheet of photos popped up on the main display, all of them of men that fit Cammy’s description. “Any of these look like your guy?”
Cammy squinted and leaned forward, making her way down the list. All of them seemed so similar, their sloping foreheads and hard stares all seeming to shout ‘danger.' Hell, they all looked like Hugh.
“I don’t see him,” she sighed disappointedly.
“You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. They all look so similar to him though. How are you getting this anyway? I thought they didn’t allow outside connections in the building.”
Wade blinked, not seeming to understand the question for a moment. “Oh, you’re looking at stuff from my personal drive. Don't ever let your data touch an open connection if you like your privacy. This workstation is completely off grid. I have to bring in everything I use. If you want a complete database, go ask your corporate overlords.”
“Okay. Okay. Who are they then?” She asked, gesturing at the men on the monitor.
“These are all members of the Order of Longinus. If your guy looks like them, he probably went through the same or similar gene modification processes. If you really wanted to confirm, you’d have to check along his spine for sockets. That’s how they interfaced with their armor.”
“I think I’ve heard the name at least. Not gonna lie, these guys weren’t my flavor of super to geek out about back in the day.”
“Yeah, you were more of a Big Five fangirl if I’m remembering right. So mainstream,” Wade teased. A little slap on the shoulder from Cammy got him talking again though. “Ahem. They were a pretty big deal during the war. One of the first generation super geniuses invented the process for making them and their armor then turned them loose on the battlefield. Badasses, all of them. These photos are decades old by now, FYI. They’d probably all look older.”
“The guy I’m looking for was younger than that. Are they still making any of these?”
Wade put his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking thoughtful as he answered. “No, probably not. The tech is dated, and it was destroyed during the war. Or at least that’s the official story. Knowledge like that doesn’t just go away though. There’s recent photos out there of altereds like them, mostly mercenaries and muscle for hire, but that’s the life of an altered, right? I even bet a couple of them are coworkers of yours. Where did you see him, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Montana,” Cammy answered, her mind busy processing the new information. There was something there.
“Where it all began. Poetic.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cammy replied. Hugh could be a mercenary, someone on contract to kill. But for whom? He tried to kill Brian Maldonado but failed. Who wanted Brian dead? Did he anger the wrong people? Did he know something dangerous? Why do you kill someone like Brian?
“Right,” Wade said, drawing out the word. “I hear they’re doing rich people tours around the perimeter of the Scar. Armored cars and stuff.”
Do you kill him to keep him quiet? About what? What happens if your attempt to quietly kill him backfires spectacularly? Like, say, if a hospital caught fire and became the scene of a shootout. How would you keep Brian quiet then?
“Additionally, I was thinking of growing an extra head, so I had someone on my level to talk to.”
If you wanted to keep him quiet and not attract any more attention, you’d pay him. Better yet, you’d hire him. Have him sign a contract.
Cammy felt like she’d just been struck in the forehead.
Hugh worked for the Company.
Then Wade was there, eyebrows raised and an exasperated look on his face. "Hellooooo. Come back to us Johansen."
“Oh. Sorry, Wade. I was just- Yeah. The place is like stepping into a history book sometimes. I saw the Eckles-Cross Elementary sign just lying around in my super’s storage room, and I thought of you.”
Wade’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at her for a long awkward few seconds. “No way. Was your guy one of the Eckles-Cross kids?”
Still so many questions. Her thoughts were spinning. The theory fit. Hugh worked for the Company, and they didn’t want her looking into it. Not sure what to do with this new information, Cammy shook her head and reminded herself that conversations required two participants.
“Uh- Maybe? I can’t say if he was or wasn’t. Sorry, Wade.” Firebreak was certainly the right age to be an Eckles-Cross kid, and he’d said his mother worked there. If Firebreak’s mother worked at the school, it seemed unlikely that she’d keep her son home for his education. No need to give that kind of info to Wade, though. Cammy trusted him, but it wasn’t her secret to spill.
Wade picked up on the noncommittal answer right away and moved on. “Well, if he wasn’t: Holy crap. Lucky him to be one of the few homeschooled kids, right?”
Despite everything, Cammy was present enough that Wade’s words struck her as a strange inference. “What? Why?”
“Why? What?” Wade asked, tilting his head quizzically.
“That was oddly specific," Cammy observed. "Why would my guy have to be homeschooled?”
“Well, this is where I start to sound like a conspiracy nut, but you’re here for unconventional knowledge right? You cool with putting on a tinfoil hat for a bit?”
Cammy narrowed her eyes, considering. That was, indeed, why she was here. She'd need to be careful about what she revealed. “Uh. Sure, Wade.”
He nodded and turned back to type more commands into the computer. “So, after the incident, the authorities were all over that place. Rescue workers. Forensics. All that. Before the government had everything buttoned up, a local reporter got a hold of the attendance record for that school day and broadcast the list on the evening news in the hopes it would help find the unaccounted for children. The kids that weren’t marked as present. Then, after the government figured things out, they scrubbed the list and everything associated with the town from the internet. Understandable if you want to give your supers some level of anonymity, but, the internet being the internet, people in certain circles are pretty sure they’ve identified all the kids on the sick list as current or previous supers. That's why your guy had to be homeschooled. If he was on the list, he'd already be extremely famous or infamous. None of the confirmed names on the sick list have been anywhere close to weak or boring.”
“Confirmed names,” Cammy repeated, hoping to prompt further explanation.
“Well, it’s the ones we’re sure about like Derrick Eckles. The public ones. The list is still out there, only on private drives or hard copies, though. You have to understand that the government doesn’t really allow it out in the digital space. Their AIs are constantly scraping the internet for that kind of stuff and burning it down or replacing it with junk names to muddy the waters. So, you have to find a real super connoisseur to get yourself a genuine copy.”
“And are you one of those?” Cammy asked.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
She sighed, knowing what Wade wanted. “All hail the king.”
“Indeed.”
“Can I see it?”
Wade wore a satisfied grin as he complied. “Sure.” He typed a few commands and brought up a photo scan of a hand written grid notebook with separate columns for dates, names, and statuses, and he quickly scrolled through the contents to get to the page he needed. “See. It’s stuff like this that makes me confident I’d know who your guy is, or at least be able to narrow it down. I won’t though, because I love you.”
“Thanks, Wade. I love you too. I can’t confirm or deny anything, though. He just had the sign.”
“Okay. I don’t want to press. You know I live for this kind of stuff. Here.” Finally to the last pair of pages, Wade zoomed in to magnify the list of twenty entries. “There’s Tyrannis right there, and there’s Famine. Woof. To think that guy could come from the same planet as Derrick Eckles, much less the same town.”
Firebreak wasn’t here. Of the two pages of kids, Joseph Jaeger didn’t make an appearance.
“Hey, go back for a minute," she urged, her attention glued to the screen. "Please.”
“Uh. Sure. This is the part I kind of hate, pawing through lists of the dead like this. I feel like a creep. There’s a lot of speculation about what happened there that day, but I’ve never had the stomach to really go into it myself. I leave that to the weirdos online that can really turn off their empathy when it suits them.”
Cammy reached down and tapped the keyboard to scroll back through the images. Rows and rows of dead children’s names.
“What do they say happened?” Cammy asked as she worked, laser focused.
“I- I don’t like to guess on that subject,” Wade answered quietly, swallowing audibly. “The prevailing theory is that it was some kind of creature, a theory pretty well supported by evidence. From leaked hospital records and mortuary reports. Closed casket funerals and all that.”
“Sounds terrible,” Cammy whispered sympathetically. Whatever had happened at the school, it had been horrible and left no survivors. No one wanted to let their brain linger on that scenario.
She stopped scrolling at page six, reading and rereading the entry.
August 17 - Joseph Jaeger - 2nd Grade - Present
Firebreak-
No. Joseph Jaeger was at the school that day. He was there, and he should be dead