Jake watched the Hawker, a bloody-faced man, and two other large men dressed in patchwork leather pace the sand-covered street outside The Dog House from the roof platform of the abandoned three-story building across the street. The flickering neon cast yellow and red shadows on their faces, giving them more of a circus clown appearance than angry drifters. He chuckled to himself as he listened to the men below curse the girl he was sent to find.
Four masked guards flanked him, armed to the teeth—back-up in case things went sideways—and to be frank, things almost always went sideways when it came to a Caladrius subject. The fact that one had gotten out after all this time… Well, Jake didn’t like to think too hard about how much he admired her tenacity. Those were dangerous thoughts that wouldn’t serve to keep him and his father alive.
Jake squinted up at the pale yellow moon as it peeked through a break in acidic tinged clouds before disappearing once again. He puffed out a breath, pressed the comm. button on his earbud transmitter, and waited for the beep.
“Speak, and make it quick,” Doctor Stanton’s voice growled in Jake’s ear.
“I have news, sir. We’ve locked in on her location.”
“Good.”
“From the look of things, though, we weren’t the only ones looking for her. She’s been a busy girl.”
“What makes you say that?”
Jake clicked his tongue. “Just a hunch. A Hawker and three of his associates just entered the location. One of them was badly beaten, and based on their colorful discussion, it was her doing.”
“This is no time for hunches, boy.”
Jake cleared his throat. “Of course, sir. Sorry. It seems our theory that someone took her was correct.”
“Under no circumstances can they leave with her. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir. Awaiting your word.”
“You have it. Now don’t disappoint me again.”
“Very well.”
Jake’s earbud clicked off. He nodded to the metallic black armored man standing next to him on the rooftop, carefully averting his eyes from his reflection in the tinted mirrored surface of the guard’s helmet face shield. He lifted his viewers and focused on the bar entrance. Jake lifted the viewers back to his eyes and listened to the beeps coming from the guard’s wrist keypad.
Jake weighed his choices. It definitely would be a risk going inside right now with all of those guns. The guards might be disposable to Dr. Stanton, but he didn’t particularly feel like catching a stray bullet today. Likely Stanton wouldn’t mind that either, so long as the guards returned with Subject ER.
Unfortunately for the doctor, Jake had plans to stick around past today. He still had a lot to do and he wouldn’t do that maimed or dead. If he didn’t bring the subject back, he might be as good as dead too. What a conundrum.
“Sir?” The guard to his right spoke, awaiting instruction.
“Send Team C to cover the rear of the building.”
“Team A and Team B?”
“We wait,” Jake said.
“But, sir,” The guard to his left spoke, his masked voice sounding eerily exact to the guard on his right. “Dr. Stanton’s orders.”
“I heard the doctor. He ordered we bring her back. Not how.” Jake said. “We can’t bring her back if we get caught in a gunfight inside that shithole bar, now can we? And would you like to be the one to give Stanton the news if one of those idiots down there hit the subject with a stray bullet?”
“No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.” Jake shook his head, “So we do as I say, and we wait, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” All four guards answered in perfect unison. Jake suppressed a shudder.
“If all else fails, we’ll use a drone.” Jake whispered to himself.
He hated those brutal things, but he’d learned long ago that sometimes he had to use tools he hated to get to the end he needed. His father raised him to know that the ones to survive were the ones willing to do whatever it took, no matter the extreme. He just tried to avoid the extreme until he was certain he had to.
***
Thad backed his way out of the storage room, pulling a long, slender roll cart stacked high with empty kegs behind him. He wedged the cart in the hallway opening, grabbed the towel from his shoulder, removed his glasses, and wiped his face.
Okay, time for the show.
"Hey Bob," he called, looking at the man behind the bar, "what do you want me to do with these things?"
The man behind the bar stood silent, looking at Thad with confusion. Thad glanced at the Hawker, blocking the front exit, and back at the barman. He cleared his throat. “Bob? The empty kegs. Where do you want them? Out back?”
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“Oh, right.” The bartender nodded. “Yeah, take them out the back door.”
“Thanks.” Thad turned, maneuvering the cart.
Just a little further…
“Hey, bar boy.” A gruff voice shouted. Thad turned.
The Hawker.
“Me?”
“No, the other fricken’ bar boy. Yes, you. Get over here.”
“Um, okay. But first, I need to run these out.”
“What did I just say? Get over here now!” The Hawker slammed his fist on a nearby tabletop, glasses shattering on the floor.
“All right. Take it easy.” Thad glanced over his shoulder at the open storage room door before he moved to the man flanked by two large men. The bloodied-faced man peeked around the Hawker. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“Have you seen a woman come in here?”
Thad looked around the room. “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of women come in here. But don’t most people go to you to pick up chicks?”
A few chuckles rang out from the back.
“Comedian, huh?” The Hawker grabbed Thad’s shirt. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Think carefully about what you say, or my friends here will give you something to laugh at.”
The smile faded from Thad’s lips.
“A woman with copper hair and blue eyes. She was with a man. Short blonde hair, leather jacket. I was told they came in here.”
Thad shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone matching that description.” The Hawker released his grip. “This girl, she must be worth quite a bit to you to go to all this trouble.”
“So what? She’s my property.”
“Sorry. Of course. I’ll send word your way if I see her.”
“You better.” One man leaned towards the Hawker and whispered in his ear as he stared at Thad. “What’s your name, boy?”
“John.”
“Why haven’t I seen you here before?”
“I just started.”
“A little old to be a bar boy, aren’t you?”
“My wife and I are expecting a baby. You know how it is. Gotta do what you gotta do.” Thad chuckled nervously. “And everyone tells me I look old for my age. I had a full beard at thirteen.”
“Mmhmm.” The Hawker rubbed his chin. “Then let me ask you another question. Why are you calling the man behind the bar Bob when his name is Thomas?”
Thad looked at the man at the bar and back at the Hawker. He stumbled back a couple of steps. “Oh, yeah. Thomas. Right. I’m terrible with names.”
“And why are you acting so nervous, John?” The Hawker and his men stepped forward.
Hunter watched between two empty kegs as his friend stammered.
Shut up, Thad!
He ripped the hard plastic off the red casing on the wall and pulled the white handle as the fire alarm shrieked to life. Water poured down from the sprinklers. He waited until the crowd surged forward, separating his friend from the Hawker, and then turned to Ella. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
They ran to the back and flung themselves through the rear door, nearly knocking over a man dressed in black. Hunter steadied himself as the neon blue-trimmed, mirrored face mask of a Republic Guard scanned him. He saw the reflection in the mask turn to Ella as the guard drew his gun. In one fluid motion, Hunter smacked the gun away, sending two stun prongs hissing into the wall next to him. He swung back with his metal left arm, his fist connecting with the guard’s helmet, shattering the glass.
The man crashed into the opposite wall.
***
“Sir,” one of the guards said over Jake’s shoulder.
Just as the guard had spoken, an explosion of movement spilled from the bar to the street outside.
“Shit.” Jake hissed as he scanned the faces below with his viewers. “Does anyone have eyes on the subject?”
“No, sir.” The four distorted voices spoke as one.
“We’ve got to move, now.”
Jake wasted no time as he slid down the ladder precariously attached to the side of the building, ignoring the heat from the friction of his gloves against rusted metal. He hit the ground running, Dr. Stanton’s clone guards keeping pace with him, then passing him.
Jake pushed himself harder. He wouldn't leave this down to their programming. It had to be him that brought Subject ER back. His father's life depended on it. His life depended on it. He’d come too far, sacrificed too much, to fail now.
The path was packed with street folk. The stench of stale urine and rotting garbage filled his nostrils. They glared out with black-ringed eyes from under dusty hoods and over strips of soiled cloth covering their mouths. Tired, hungry, angry. But he had four guards. No one would mess with them today.
***
Hunter looked down at the face behind the broken mask. It was less a face, more a grotesque caricature of one. Bone jutted through the hollows of his cheeks, sharp and wicked. Where a nose should have been, there were only two gaping holes. Branded on the man’s jaw, the number 761-4. Wires snaked from the empty sockets where his eyes should have been, disappearing into the shattered remnants of the visor. A high-pitched, agonized scream, mechanical and chilling, echoed through the air, making Hunter’s teeth ache.
Hunter heard Ella gasp behind him. He shifted to block her view, but it was too late. She was crouched against a wall, trembling, a hand clamped over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. "Michael?" she choked out.
Hunter held out a hand. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Ella took his hand, her grip tight. He pulled her to her feet. They reached the back corner of the building. Hunter glanced at the unconscious guard one last time before disappearing around the corner as sirens wailed in the distance.
***
“This way, sir.” One of the clones pointed down yet another alley after checking his wrist pad.
He followed them, panting, but determined to keep up. Alley after alley they ran down, always a few steps behind the woman’s tracker, until they fell behind. The signal jumped locations a couple times.
Damn it, they're moving fast. How is she doing this? Jake wondered. He knew the tracker was a small subdermal implant, usually easily detectable.
“What the hell is happening?” Jake asked, the stitch in his side burning.
“I’m not sure, sir.”
"Shit." There was no other choice now. "Send the drone."
He watched as one of the guards raised a small, sleek device. It unfolded into a hovering drone, about the size of a bird, its single red eye blinking ominously as it silently ascended. The red light pulsed, casting an eerie glow on the grimy walls. Jake had a bad feeling about this. Something was about to go very wrong. He could almost hear the whisper of the wind as it sliced through the air, carrying something unseen, something out of his control.