Mikael casually flips the cylinder of the revolver in his hand open, then closed, and open again. He stands with one shoulder leaning against the wall as he gazes out at the city streets below, visible through the shattered glass panes of the window next to him. His eyes trace the geometry of the dilapidated buildings and cracked pavement. An urban carcass: quiet, and not a trace of movement besides the swirling mist.
F-6’s lone observation post is a second-story studio apartment in a building full of peeling wallpaper, warped flooring, and stained furniture. The room they’re in has most of its decorations removed in favor of a few tables chock-full of CPC gadgets he couldn’t name even if his life depended on it, in addition to their tangled heaps of wiring. Otherwise, the place is sparse.
That is, aside from the fact he, unfortunately, is not alone.
Closed. Click. Open.
“Guys, I think this is honestly going to kill me.” Out of the corner of his vision, Lionel paces around by the front door. The slender man runs his hands down the sides of his neck with a dramatic sigh. “This is the most excruciatingly boring assignment Karim has ever given us.”
Click.
Therese sits on the floor, back against the wall opposite from Mikael. She’s hunched forward with a bulky, laptop-like device nestled in her legs. Her eyes diligently scan the monitor as her fingers dance over the keys. “You said the same thing three assignments ago, didn’t you?”
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” Lionel says as he kicks a small bit of rubble on the floor out of his path, “my point still stands that I feel like I’m going stir crazy in here. How many hours has it been now?”
“Just two.”
“Fucking hell. This is such a waste of time.”
Click.
Rani stands next to Therese with her arms crossed. She holds her shoulders high, but not at the same sharp angle that she usually does, and some of her hair hangs loosely from the tight bun she keeps it in. This situation irritates her as much as it does Lionel, but unlike him, she keeps it hidden. Cool, calm, and collected.
Her voice is level and clear: “The captain wanted us out of his hair while he took care of his business. We’d just be sitting around back at the outpost if we weren’t here.”
Lionel’s posture, on the other hand, is far too loose for a man with a loaded 50-caliber rifle strapped to his back. His overall attitude has been nails on a chalkboard to Mikael since day one. He’s aware the constant complaints and never-ending sarcasm are likely a coping mechanism, but that awareness unfortunately does little to make it any less grating.
Click.
“Yeah, but if I’m bored back there, I can just sleep.” Lionel finally stops pacing, but Mikael prefers the sound of his boots against the creaky flooring to the sound of his voice. “That’s kinda weird, actually. Don’t they usually have mattresses or something else to sleep on at these things?”
Rani shakes her head. “Not here.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve gotten a glance at some of the records here. Garrison units only ever stay for 12 hours at most. Sometimes a little shorter than that,” Therese chimes in, “they rotate groups of people entirely instead of doing shifts like we’re used to, including those stationed back at the outpost. No one ever seems to stay in this area for very long.”
Click. Mikael pauses, the chamber hanging out from the gun in his hand.
A quizzical look comes over Lionel’s face. “That’s...really weird. I mean, I know I’m still new to all this stuff, but I’ve never heard of anything like that. Any particular reason why?”
Therese shrugs, but even from across the room Mikael catches the twinkle of keen interest in her eyes. Not an unusual expression for her. “The documents that I saw didn’t have anything listed other movements and rotations. I’m assuming it’s on a need-to-know basis. It’s definitely strange, though. The mist here sure is thick, but there’s still minimal reports of activity.”
Rani shifts uncomfortably. Her eyes meet Mikael’s for a brief second, but she looks away just as quickly. CPC secrets are her least favorite conversation topic, as one would expect from someone in a leadership position, albeit hers is a minor one. He doubts that she knows any more than they do.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
This place isn’t much different than the other observation posts he’s been stationed at, but something here is...off. The air around them almost has a weight to it. It could be attributed to the mist being unusually thick, as Therese indicated, but he can’t name a time when he’s sensed it anywhere else. Not even when he was back home.
Click. Back in, the chamber goes.
Rani clears her throat. “Regardless, sleeping all the time isn’t exactly conducive to our training, Lionel.”
“Neither is sitting here and waiting for something interesting to happen, if anything even does,” Lionel retorts, “which is basically what we’re doing right now.”
“You could go out there and play tag with a phantom if you want something to do.”
“That might have less of a chance of killing me than the boredom at this rate.”
Click.
Mikael returns to looking back out of his window, but that doesn’t stop Lionel from glancing in his direction at the sound of the revolver’s cylinder popping back out. He pretends not to notice, but his jaw reflexively tightens with the knowledge of Lionel’s eyes on him.
“Dude, I can’t help but notice that you always have that thing on you wherever we go, but you never seem to use it. Not even at the shooting ranges or anything.”
His hand stops moving but he still doesn’t look back at Lionel. Someone was going to ask eventually, and of course it was going to be him, whose specialty has proven to be pressing people’s buttons.
“It’s broken.”
Lionel takes a small step towards him, head slightly tilted in curiosity as he inspects the firearm from a distance. “Well, you are the resident gun expert, right? You take them apart and put them back together all the time. Can’t you just fix it?”
Mikael decides to make eye contact with him then. He hopes there’s enough intensity in his stare and edge in his voice to get the point across: “It stays broken.”
“Oh.” He immediately returns the space that was between them. “Alrighty then.”
After that, Lionel seems to settle down, choosing to sit against the same wall as Therese and fumble with one of the belts on his uniform instead of filling the air with his continuous noise. Mikael allows the muscles in his jaw to relax as he makes a final attempt to resume his vigil by the window.
Click.
He leaves the chamber secure inside the gun and lets his hand go slack. A few minutes of blessed quiet pass, the only sound being the wind as it plays hollow tones through the holes and gaps in the city ruins, until Therese’s eyes go wide, and she jerks upright.
“Uh, guys, I think I’ve...got something.”
Mikael turns his head back towards the group. Rani steps away from the wall and leans forward to look at Therese’s equipment, which starts to emit a soft pinging.
Lionel perks up, eagerness in his widened eyes. “Whaddya mean by ‘got something’?”
“It isn’t a phantom. The heat signature appears to be that of a human,” she answers, “but it does look like one is in pursuit - er, two now.”
“Are they one of ours?” Rani asks.
“I don’t think so. It’s just one person. They ran into range from the northeast, and we don’t have any outposts in that direction. To my knowledge, there isn’t supposed to be anything in that direction, only forests, so...”
“So, there’s just some random person out there, by themselves, getting chased down by not one but two phantoms, and most assuredly going to die?” Lionel starts to get to his feet. “Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut earlier about being bored.”
You should have even if this wasn’t happening, Mikael would say, but instead, his eyes go towards the window again. For a moment, through one of the larger alleyways that come out into the street, he thinks he catches a glimpse of movement. It’s hard to tell for certain past the constant shifting of the mist, let alone if it’s human. Or phantom.
He stands up off the wall and holsters the revolver. Something wells up in his stomach that he finds difficult to put a name to. It’s a familiar feeling, but not one he’s felt in a while. Fear? No, he’s never felt fear when it comes to the phantoms. They aren’t easy to deal with, certainly, but he views them more as pests than anything. Perhaps that’s his own coping mechanism, perhaps not.
He breathes in, and his chest feels tight. The air’s ‘weight’ has gotten heavier.
Mikael turns away from the window and back towards his crew. The curiosity from Therese’s face has drained away, replaced by hard lines of concern as she continues pressing keys and staring hard at the screen of the device. I don’t think there’s supposed to be anything in that direction. There was an uneasiness in her tone of voice when she made that comment that tells him that he’s not the only one who’s aware of said ‘weight.’
Is this feeling...dread?
Therese looks up towards Rani. “What do you want us to do?”
Rani remains silent as she adjusts the strap securing an assault rifle to her back. Her hands are less steady than they should be, and her eyes are still locked on Therese’s device. She’s feeling it too, but quickly snaps herself out of it with a shake of her head. The gaze of everyone in the room follows her as she straightens herself and steps away from the wall with her chin held high.
“We have standing orders to help any survivors, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
Lionel’s eyes widen even more, so much so that Mikael can picture them popping out of their sockets. “Since when have ‘survivors’ been a thing in like, the past decade? Is one person we don’t even know the status or allegiance of worth the risk of two phantoms? We should call for backup first.”
These words are more grating on his ears than anything else that has rolled out of his colleague’s mouth in the past couple of months, but Mikael takes the strong desire to sock him in the face and tightly locks it away. He can take out his irritation in more productive ways, like on the phantoms, and the sense of what he can only label ‘dread’ in his gut that increases as the seconds tick past has him reluctant to speak or move.
“Risk is part of the job, and waiting for backup will require time that we don’t have,” Rani states firmly. “Therese, where are they now?”
She rapidly taps a few keys. “It looks like they ran inside that old department store that’s not too far from us. They’ve stopped moving, so I think they found a hiding spot. We don’t have much time, though. The phantoms are closing in fast.”
“Then we need to go now. Therese, stay put and inform the base of the situation, but we’re not waiting around for someone else to show or to get anyone’s approval. I’ll take point, Lionel comes with me, and Mikael...” She pauses as her eyes drag over to him, “...do what you do best.”
His only response is a curt nod. She shoots him an uneasy grin in response.
Lionel lets out another heavy sigh as he prepares his own firearm. “Rani breaking protocol,” he says, “What’s next? Flying phantoms? Karim’s gonna be thrilled.”
She waves him off. “I’ll take the fall for it. If there’s a person out there who’s trapped and helpless, it’s our job to do something. Now get a move on.”
At least she’s not too much of a teacher’s pet, Mikael thinks.
Rani, assault rifle readied in her hands, exits the room. Lionel drags behind her, his earlier enthusiasm for something to do no longer present, but he’s beginning to think it’s due to the bizarre, constrictive atmosphere. If Rani also felt it, that could explain why she’s eager enough to take immediate action, a fight response instead of flight.
He waits until they’re gone, turns back towards the window, and pops the latch that still holds steady despite the state of the apartment building. He hears Therese shuffle around before faint, crackling static cuts through the quiet.
“Foxtrot-6 Paragon, this is Lambda-9 Robin. Hostiles detected in pursuit of an apparent non-combatant. Unit is moving to engage--”
Mikael tunes her out as he slides the window open and looks down over the street below. There’s no trace of the movement he saw in the alleyway previously. The distance to the ground isn’t too far; he’ll drop from the window and roll through the landing for good measure. Simple.
Therese finishes her transmission, and the static fades out. Her voice is unsteady when she speaks up: “Rani’s right. We’re supposed to be rescuing anyone who’s in danger, but something seems...not right about this situation. This place. You feel it too, don’t you?”
“Yup,” he answers without turning back to her.
“What is it you’re planning to do?”
“What I do best.” Mikael braces his hands on the windowsill and presses the heel of one of his boots up to it. “Kill shit.”