Copyright
Life After War 18
Let’s Go Back
by
Angela White
Title: Let’s Go Back
Life After War Book 18
Length: 600+ pages
First Edition: 2022
Author: Angela White
Copyright ©Angela White. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without prior written consent.
 
Would You?
If you could go back
Knowing each smack
The people who lacked
Each mistake that you sacked
Would you?
 
If you could redo
Honoring those who were true
This time seeing the clues
Of impending blues
Would you?
 
If you could repeat
And not accept defeat
No longer afraid to meet
Not tied to one seat
Would you?
 
If you could return
And finally earn
The life you yearn
Without the horrible burn
Would you?
 
If you could erase
Every moment of debase
Every damaging case
Every humiliating place
Would you?
 
If you could stop time
And go back on your dime
With only one horrific crime
And you’d control every chime
Would you?

Chapter One
Landing
Mission Day 9
 
1
“I think this is a trap.”
Shawn rolled his eyes at Greg. “Of course it’s a trap. We counted on that.”
“We shouldn’t have left him alone with her.” Biff didn’t trust Cerise at all. Marc’s moodiness had gotten worse with every minute he’d spent around the Australian killer.
Kenn agreed, but he didn’t say so. “Cerise Bunting is the least of Marc’s worries. He can handle her.”
Kenn’s tone implied Marc wouldn’t be successful in his mission to kill the UN boss. He didn’t take it back when people glared. He doubted the enemy would be easily fooled. Even this plan for the rest of the team to blend into the surviving population wasn’t likely to work. They had seriously misjudged their opponent.
Kenn hadn’t believed that when he and Marc had gone over the plan, but Marc had spent all eight nights since then getting drunk with Cerise and the submarine crew. Kenn’s faith had shifted into concern. Marc was in over his head. It’s happened before. We killed that old guy, back when Marc was my fireteam leader. He didn’t shoot like the rest of us, but he didn’t keep control and things got out of hand. That’s what I expect this time.
Shawn frowned. “Then you need to cover it–cover us.”
“I will.” The Eagles were just as important to Kenn now as the Marines had been to him. “Stick to the plan. We blend in and wait for the signal. Cerise acts like she’s turning him in and gets him inside.”
Biff made a face. “Yeah, acts like.”
Harry gestured. “I agree. She’s not acting. Marc’s in danger and so is this mission.”
Greg scowled at them. “I’m telling you, I feel a trap and I mean our landing.”
Kenn scanned the beach again as the RIB bounced along the waves toward the shore. “I see the vehicles Cerise said would be waiting. No signs of people.”
Greg wasn’t convinced. “It feels bad, man.”
Kenn nodded. “And that’s why we’re here. Just do your job and we’ll all come out in one piece.”
Shawn grimaced. He agreed with Greg. It didn’t feel right even though they knew they were going to be captured at some point.
The other men in the wide RIB didn’t add to the unease, but they felt it. All of them scanned the Australian shoreline in trepidation. Being closed up in the submarine with Cerise and Goldie had been hard. This was worse because it was unknown.
“No movement.” Kenn lowered the binoculars and glared at Greg. “Remember your training!”
Greg didn’t know what part of shooting classes and awareness lessons were supposed to prepare him for landing on foreign soil and getting caught on purpose.
Behind them, the submarine dove, displacing water and sending out ripples as it vanished from sight.
Kenn timed their speed and got ready to slow down. “Go straight to those hatchbacks when we land. Secure our ride and stand watch while we hide this RIB.”
Men nodded at the order.
Kenn wasn’t encouraged. Leaving Marc behind on the sub had been a bad idea, but he couldn’t go back now. They were almost at their destination and he had orders to follow.
The RIB slowed as they hit shallow water.
“Out! Out!” Kenn got everyone out of the RIB and beached it. He killed the engine just as it would have hit the soggy sand. The RIB jerked to a rough stop.
Kenn hurried to help Greg pull it away from the water while everyone else went to the three Toyota HiLux trucks that Cerise had claimed were fueled and reinforced. Kenn covered the deflating RIB with a net and quickly staked it down so the wind wouldn’t blow it away. Greg’s right. This is hinky.
Greg nodded from Kenn’s side, but there was no time to talk. They hurried toward the vehicles.
Gus slid behind the wheel of the sand-covered rear hatchback. He grabbed the keys in his pocket, hoping Cerise hadn’t been lying about them working.
The engine fired to life.
He grinned, starting to feel a little better.
In the lead vehicle, Greg scanned north; his stomach dropped. “Movement! We have movement!”
“Where?!”
“Behind those shacks! It’s a bulldozer!”
Kenn didn’t wait to see which way it was going. “Load up!”
Greg shifted into drive to be ready, but his attention stayed on the large group of men and women behind the bulldozer. “Are they attacking us?”
Kenn wasn’t sure either. The people were advancing slowly and they weren’t yelling like he would expect from attackers. He verified the others were in, then he took the open seat in Shawn’s middle HiLux, next to Biff. “Stay on Greg’s ass.”
“More movement from the south!” Biff yelled through the open window. “They’re running at us!”
“Get us out of here!” They had enough ammunition to cover it, but Kenn knew killing two hundred Australian citizens five minutes after arriving wasn’t going to go over well.
“They’re blocking us in! They have bats and pipes!”
Greg rolled toward the entrance ramp to the beach. The sand would slow them down too much.
“Shit!” Greg noticed the fuel gauge. “It’s at a 1/4 tank. She lied!”
 
The radio came on with Shawn’s angry voice. “Our low fuel light’s on. We’re not going far.”
 
“Same here.” Gus hated being in the rear. He willed them to go faster as the mob of people broke into a run.
Biff was also watching the mob. “Why aren’t they yelling?” Both groups were advancing, with some of them running and brandishing weapons, but there was no noise.
Kenn didn’t have an answer.
Greg drove onto the broken, sand-covered sidewalk and bounced the lead hatchback toward the grassy knoll next to it. He knew better than to take the obvious path.
Kenn held on and surveyed the mirror to be sure all three vehicles stayed together.
Greg saw more beach or a small town. He steered toward the town, hoping it was the right call.
Biff pointed. “More people!”
They saw hundreds of survivors lining the road with weapons, but no guns. Biff remembered Cerise’s words about only a few homesteads having guns before the war, but that didn’t make him feel better. The baseball bats would hurt just as much and only delay death in place of awful pain.
Shawn saw barricaded streets and alleys. “I think they’ve used this trap before.”
“Movement! Behind the trees at the park.”
 
The radio call made Biff flinch. He paled as he took in the newest mob of filthy, starving men and women now filling the sandy street. They were about to be trapped. “They’re blocking each street as we come to it!”
“Windows up! Doors locked! Vests on! Stay together!”
“West?”
“Not without explosives… East? Damn. Another bulldozer. Water to the south. No way out. Stand and fight?”
“If we have to. For now, weakest point?”
“River, mudslide… The bridge is gone. Bulldozers are rolling into place behind us! She said the sewers here are flooded.”
“We could drive through the houses.”
“Go north, around the mudslide!” Kenn used a curt tone to cut through the panic of his team. “How many bad guys are back there?”
Biff hesitated. Not all the faces in the shifting, herding mobs were bad. “A few hundred.”
“What’s the POP and ESR?”
Biff’s answer was quick. “Prewar population here was 55,000. Estimated rate of survival is 50% at three months and 33% at six months. We didn’t do it for a year.”
“Guess.”
“I’d say 25% at least.”
“That’s too many.” Kenn knew they were in deep shit unless they could find a way out.
Biff was still in the civilian state of mind that he’d carried across his dying country. “Avoid and evade?”
Kenn denied that. “They probably believe we’re a foreign government starting an invasion. They’ll hunt us down.”
Biff didn’t want to engage the citizens here. “That’s how we should play it. Maybe they’ll surrender.”
“And then what? We can’t guard so many.”
“We can sort them into groups and medicate the bad ones. We’ll add it to their drinks.”
“Wait.” Shawn’s voice broke through the debate. “I see sores. There’s sickness here.”
Kenn made the choice. “Lock and load, Eagles.”
Biff blanched. “He’s going to kill them?”
Shawn nodded. “We can’t treat them all.”
“But we don’t even know what it is yet!”
Kenn checked his weapon. “We don’t have time for this.”
“What about the healthy people hiding behind the others? I won’t be a part of this. It’s murder! Not all of them are bad!”
Shawn tried to reason with the rookie as he followed Greg’s hatchback. “There’s no other choice.”
“We agreed not to hurt the citizens here! This will violate the deal we made with Cerise!”
Shawn scowled. “Cerise is busy warming Marc up. She won’t care as long as he gives her what she wants.”
Kenn used his radio. “AKs on standby. Roll on my mark.”
Biff had to keep trying. “I have an idea.”
“I’m dying to hear it–maybe literally.”
Biff winced at Kenn’s jab. “Blow the bridge and sweep them out. The sick ones won’t survive. The healthy ones might.”
“Here they come!”
“On my call, Eagles!”
“No! Give them a chance!”
Chaos overtook them as the mob rushed forward, throwing sticks, stones, tools, and tree branches. They finally screamed in rage.
The vehicles rocked as the mob hit them with anything in hand to breach a window or a tire.
The drivers lowered windows so the others could open fire.
Filthy fingers grabbed the lowered window and shoved down, snagging Biff’s hat and then his hair. He was jerked against the door and pulled toward the opening window.
Disgust and fear became rage in an instant as he jerked back, leaving hair. He heard the window going down further and the other Eagles shouting orders, and then he began firing, too, killing people he was sure didn’t deserve it.
The gunfire died slowly. Piles of bodies surrounded all three vehicles as the mob retreated out of range but not out of sight.
Biff reloaded and kept his rifle in hand, cursing Marc and Angela. I’m a murderer now.
Shawn put the windows up. “It had to be done. They were a threat to everyone who came through here.”
Kenn reloaded. “He’s right. If they’d pulled you through the window, you’d be dead.”
Biff’s stomach lurched as he saw the scattered mob come back together near the beach park, but he controlled it. I will not puke. Not here.
“Reload, Eagles, reload!”
They were going to repeat their actions. Biff wiped his hands dry to be ready even as he mourned another chunk of his humanity.
Shawn tried to offer comfort. “The boss would have made the same call.”
“Kenn’s not the boss!”
Kenn called the other vehicles on the radio. “Get back to the RIB!”
Biff stayed silent as the mob remained by the park and Greg led them back toward their landing spot. These vehicles weren’t made for a cross country trip into hell, but he also didn’t want to be back on the submarine. He felt trapped. I want to go home.
Shawn understood what Biff was feeling, but there wasn’t time to keep comforting him as the mob they’d left behind at the beach heard them coming and grouped up for an attack.
“Cerise did this on purpose.” Biff was sure of it. “She split us up from Marc, and now we’re expendable.”
“Yep.” Kenn reloaded and automatically tugged to be sure the magazine had set in properly. “Open fire!”
Biff joined his team in clearing a path back to the beach, but he was certain it was the wrong direction. They’ve got us on the run now. We’re all doomed.
Bam!
Bam!
Two huge explosions rocked their small convoy and flipped the first two vehicles. Metal and flames shot into the sky.
“Who’s firing at us?!”
“Look out!”
“My eye! It hit my eye!”
A third grenade from the mob struck the rear vehicle in the side and exploded, flipping it into the mob of citizens.
In the near distance, two powerful engines revved up as they flew closer.
Half of the mob took off running away from the crash scene as a familiar, feared sound echoed above the chaos.
Two helicopters rose over the horizon and approached the burning hulks on the beach. Their guns scattered more of the mob that was attacking the survivors of the wrecks.
Biff screamed as hands pulled him through the window. He fired his handgun repeatedly, emptying his magazine into hearts and brains. He kept pulling the trigger even after it was empty. He didn’t hear the dry click of an empty chamber. He also didn’t know where his rifle had gone. He’d lost it in the flip.
All around him, the mob went down to carefully fired shots. Biff knew they weren’t Eagle rounds. We don’t use REMs with .223 ammunition. Our enemy does.
Biff fell over in the sand and waited for death. His body refused to obey him. A needle jutted from his neck.
Thick, dusty sand blew over Biff as the helicopter landed nearby. The other bird stayed in the air, firing bullets at the beach mob and darts at the mission team.
The mob finally scattered, clearing Biff’s line of sight. Faded black boots hurried toward him. All Biff could do was listen.
“We have survivors, sir.”
The boss man smirked through the radio. “Bring them all in.”
“We’ll have them loaded and be back within the hour, sir.”
“Very good. Reicher out.”
The few Eagles who were alert enough to hear the exchange celebrated even as they worried. Marc had said they would be taken along the route, not as soon as they landed. It wasn’t part of their plan.
“My eye! Oh, God! My eye!”
Biff heard Greg screaming. His balls drew up. But Marc’s not here to suffer with us, is he?
The drugs knocked Biff out.
Greg continued to scream.
 
 
2
“I can still hear them screaming.” Marc glared from the stool near the stack of gear they’d brought from the island.
Cerise didn’t stop working. She was handing gear up the ladder through the sub hatch to the crew who was loading their boat. “You knew they were going to be captured.”
Marc’s voice deepened into anger. “You didn’t mention the mobs on the beach or the helicopters.”
Cerise snorted lightly. “We came to your island in a nuclear submarine, but you didn’t think there could be helicopters?”
Marc was forced to admit that was an oversight on his part, but he didn’t do it aloud. He just kept glaring.
Cerise forced out an apologetic pitch. “I didn’t know the beach gangs had grown so big. They’ve been forcing survivors to join. It’s a horrible life after war for them.”
“You sent my team into that, blind.”
“I haven’t been here in months. I am sorry, but there was nothing we could do.”
Marc grunted unhappily. It had been part of the plan for the team to be captured; blending in with the population had been a good plan when he and Kenn came up with it.
Cerise gestured. “This would go faster if you helped.”
Marc leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t recovered from last night’s drinking session yet. But it didn’t matter, did it? I still heard every shriek and scream. He had hoped staying drunk for the last week would help him block it out when the team was captured, but that had failed. His team was now in the hands of the enemy and he wasn’t with them.
Cerise worked faster. “Don’t try to connect to them. We’re close enough to the lab that they might be able to track it.”
“No shit.” It was already a struggle for Marc not to order them to go back and help his team. Unsolicited advice wasn’t welcome.
Cerise grabbed another handful of gear and sent it up the ladder. Albert and Denese were on top of the sub. Both of them were coming to land, along with Goldie, who was in the bridge with Saul to relay instructions.
Marc scanned the stinking sub miserably. Now that their gear was stacked near the hatch, the submarine appeared empty again. It reminded Marc of leaving Safe Haven. Very few people had come to see them off and those few had expressed their displeasure in hard, cold glares instead of well wishes. Did they jinx this run?
Marc hadn’t spent the last nine days training his team in anything specific. He’d let them use the time to flush out bad memories and to remember what was important to them. Those were the things they would hold onto during their captivity.
Marc had hated every minute he’d spent here, but he had learned a lot about how to operate this machine. If something happened to Saul, there was a small chance he could sail it home. But not until my mission is complete.
Marc stood and began helping load the gear. The sooner I get this done, the sooner the rest of it will be over with.
Cerise gave him an approving nod, but she didn’t try to reach him on another level. She’d spent the last week trying to bond with Marc and she already knew it wasn’t possible. Not only did he not want bonds with anybody, he didn’t like her. He’d made that clear. Even during the nights where they’d shared the same bunk for space and warmth, he’d been an indifferent body to curl against. His team probably assumed they’d had sex every night, but sleeping had been all that happened.
The submarine crew also helped hand gear up the ladder, but they didn’t offer chatter. All of them were eager for Cerise and her little team to be gone. They had enjoyed not having rules or a boss.
In the bridge, Saul listened to Goldie’s instructions and promised to faithfully carry them out, but he also kept up a mental shield to prevent the man from reading his true thoughts. As soon as their passengers disembarked, Saul planned to get out of radar range.
Goldie knew the captain wasn’t listening, but he didn’t care. Saul and his crew were someone else’s headache.
“Is that everything?” Cerise strode through the submarine to check compartments while Marc went up the ladder.
The boat floating alongside the sub was heavily loaded with the gear they’d brought from Safe Haven. Marc carefully lowered himself into the captain’s seat to steer them toward land. He scanned the mysterious coastline, searching for the same dangers that had trapped his team. He didn’t spot anyone.
Lightwood trees and harsh brown dirt met his gaze. Even though he didn’t detect any threats, the land itself felt ominous. He wasn’t looking forward to trekking through it. He’d been here once during his military career. That brief training exercise had ended in two of his team being bitten by poisonous reptiles. They’d required a break for two weeks of recovery time after antivenom treatments. Australia was not friendly.
It was a balmy afternoon without a breeze to cool his sweaty skin. Saul had said it wasn’t good to run the air conditioning while the sub was idle, so it had been off since their arrival last night. They were all stinky and sweaty, with soot smudges from the walls and floors. It had been obvious upon boarding that there had been a fire. The chemical smells said the crew had cleaned, but it was impossible to remove all the soot. There were now prints and smears all over the ship from his team.
Cerise appeared the same as she had while talking to Angela on the island–tired, sad, and grimy from a long trip. Goldie was resplendent in his gold vest and red baggie pants. When he grinned, the gold over his teeth perfectly matched his ensemble. They had teased him about that at first, but it had changed to respect as they saw the effort it took when you were stuck inside a can for a week without the sight of the sun or a breath of fresh air. None of Marc’s team had put much effort on their appearance.
Marc didn’t look at the water even though the ride to shore would get him wet. The beautiful waves reminded him too much of Kendle’s death. That was the last thing he needed to be stewing on right now. I already see it repeating in my dreams; that’s enough.
Cerise and Goldie came up the ladder and joined him in the boat. Albert and Denese also climbed in carefully. Both of those bridge employees were unhappy to be leaving the sub, but Saul had refused to keep them on his crew. He had used the excuse that command would be happier with two traitors being returned.
Marc believed that to be true. He was also glad they weren’t staying on the sub while he was gone. Denese and Albert hadn’t been completely willing in the battle against Safe Haven, but they also hadn’t refused those orders and that made them enemies. The same was true of Cerise and Goldie.
Marc didn’t wait for them all to be seated. He tugged the anchor line free and quickly headed for shore.
The other people in the boat dropped down and grabbed one of the rubber handles on the sides to keep from being thrown out. No one protested. Marc’s mood was just as ugly now as it had been for the entire trip. No one wanted to set him off.
 
In the bridge, Saul waited for the RIB to get far enough from the sub to keep from being pulled under and then he began activating dive procedures. He wanted to get out of sight. When Cerise had said the lab could be tracking them, she was absolutely correct. He hadn’t received any incoming messages from command yet, but he was certain it was only a matter of time. What he wasn’t sure about was whether he would follow any orders that came through.
 
 
3
Denese and Albert watched the submarine sink beneath the water in longing. They knew they were being sacrificed to give the team a chance at a successful infiltration.
The rest of them surveyed the shoreline for threats. Unlike where Marc’s team had been captured, this landing spot was slightly wooded and well away from civilization. There were no towns in the distance, no city skylines, and no roads. They would be hiking through the outback for an hour to reach Cerise’s homestead. Marc had agreed to go there first so she could retrieve her hidden maps of the lab.
Neil had made maps for Marc from her mental memories, but none of them were detailed enough. She had clearer memories from other labs where she had been trained or been a trainer, but her Australian site recollections were fuzzy.
Having a map of this lab would be invaluable. Marc needed to know the layout before he went in. He had a bad feeling about going to Cerise’s house, however. He suspected it was a ploy to slow him down, though he wasn’t sure what she hoped to accomplish by that. Reading her for the last week had made it clear that she hated the UN and she missed her dead children enough to do anything to have them returned. Marc knew she was in favor of the reset, as were Goldie and a lot of the sub crew who had lost family members in the war.
If not for the awful price that had to be paid to initiate the reset, Marc would have been on their side. Everything he’d been before the war had been better than what he had afterward, even though he and Angela had become a couple and eventually gotten married. Kendle’s death had changed everything. If I could go back, I wouldn’t do it.
Cerise looked over with a frown. “Even though she tried to kill you and your wife?”
Marc refused to answer.
 
In the bridge of the submarine, Saul evened out the dive and slowed the sub. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go yet.
The communications alert beep coming from the console wasn’t a surprise. It also wasn’t welcome. Saul hit the button and listened to the order.
“United Nations member 1423564, you are to return to base immediately. Bring your ship into port A411. You have five hours to report.”
Saul felt the rest of the crew throughout the sub waiting for his response.
Saul ran through the options. If he turned over the sub, he might be spared because he had also helped Cerise complete her mission. A lot of this crew would be put into retraining, though some would be killed for failure to follow orders. Saul was valuable because of his skills, but there was a chance he would still be punished for helping Safe Haven win that last battle.
Saul thought that was likely. He could man a sub, a ship, or fly anything with wings, but at this point in the game, the UN didn’t need those skills. However, they would be holding a grudge about being denied an easy victory over Safe Haven.
“The game is almost over, but they haven’t won yet. We’ll wait and see if any other players join or maybe Marc’s smarter than his team believes he is. Until then, we’ll go somewhere warm and hunt for a cow. Our ration bars are almost gone and I can’t stand the taste of them anymore.”
A loud cheer echoed through the submarine. The crew knew there would be a punishment if they were forced to surrender after disobeying orders, but they were willing to take that chance on Marc and his team. Just because he was walking into a trap, it didn’t mean he’d lost the game.
“Pick a place where we can do some repairs…and find us some torpedoes. All we have left is nukes.”
The sub crew got out their maps and began scouring.

 
Chapter Two
The Offer

1
“We lost contact with the submarine, sir.” Joseph leaned aside to let his boss view the radar screen from his seat.
Reicher gave it a quick glance but didn’t dwell on it. He would have been surprised if the sub crew had returned after firing on their own troops during the island battle.
That fight had weakened UN forces so much that the entire system was now in the final stages of collapse. It wasn’t just from Saul’s torpedoes, but that had certainly sped things along. “Send the usual warning for disobeying orders.”
Joseph quickly typed the command into the master computer. He doubted there would be another order on this matter. They had little use for a nuclear submarine because they didn’t have enough troops to establish a new base anywhere. Many teams had been sent out for that purpose after the war, but they were all dead or unresponsive.
Not all of those were assumed to be deserters, however. Some of the lands they’d been sent to were harsh and unyielding, like South America. Others had been populated with wild, armed civilians, like the United States. Both of those zones were coveted targets for the ability to produce food, but they didn’t matter right now either. The UN had no workers to cultivate them or to provide security for that enterprise. Their reign is about to end.
Joseph resumed transferring lab test results into the computer. He and the boss did this daily, without exception. It was just the two of them in the 10 x 10 time-locked security room that only had one exit. This cubby opened twice a day for one hour. If they didn’t stay on schedule, they would be locked in until the next time it opened.
Joseph had brought along a kit of basic rations when he’d first inherited this position. Reicher had made him leave it outside. He said if they couldn’t stay on schedule then they deserved to be locked in.
The small flat held two long metal desks, two chairs, and a massive computer setup that covered two walls and needed constant air conditioning to prevent it from overheating. They kept the room diligently clean. Every shift started with dusting to prevent problems with the equipment. They didn’t have many people who could repair or replace it if the system crashed.
Reicher rose from his chair and went to the front of the security room. He stared through the two-way glass at the warehouse floor below, where new captives were being brought in. Many of them were injured, screaming, or fighting through the drugs they’d been hit with upon capture. The staff assigned to handle their admissions were already on the warehouse floor, waiting for the tired troops to get the captives into the small cages. This was the best time for Reicher to dig into vulnerable minds without them being aware of it.
This group of ten was more valuable than the others they’d brought in over the last year and they were obviously stronger, more battle tested. Marcus Brady’s team was about to be broken down, retrained, and then converted into loyal supporters. The UN reign was indeed about to end, but it didn’t mean this lab would close or the tests would stop.
The United Nations had been used as a cover for almost a century for coordinated global laboratories that searched through every city, town, culture, race, sect, and demographic for descendants. The leaders of these labs were generational–born and raised there. They never left, though they did procreate. They were required to have three sons and pick one to inherit their place when they died. The other two were put into testing. Reicher had never questioned this existence or his destiny. It was what he’d been bred for, and he was very good at it.
The sounds of the new captives didn’t penetrate the security walls. Reicher was able to tell they were making noise by their open mouths and the slight twitches of the fresh-from-training staff who were now shooting them with darts so they could treat injuries and strip them. There was no telling what the captives had in their pockets or body cavities. Everything would be removed and the staff would toughen up within a day or two.
The cage warehouse was four floors belowground and only reachable by the elevator in the corner. That elevator could only be activated from this security room. Many captives made the mistake of fleeing to the elevator with hopes of escaping. It had encouraged enough attempts that the computer had recommended building escape proof cages.
Reicher’s Blinkers had worked on that one for years before the war. The ten captives below wouldn’t be able to escape their cells even if they were able to use their gifts through the drugs. The material was titanium and opened only by computer command that went through chips inside the bars.
Joseph looked away as Reicher coughed up a bloody clump and spat it into the waste can. In the past, a leader would have hidden that, but Reicher was one of just two commanders still alive and actively running a lab. He couldn’t be removed because there was no one to remove him.
His counterpart in Hawaii, Corbin, was in the same situation with not enough warm bodies to keep it all going. Both labs needed to spend the next few years assimilating survivors to fill out their ranks. Reicher’s illness didn’t matter in comparison. The real problem it brought, beyond him growing weaker daily from the stomach cancer eating through his body, was that his surviving sons weren’t old enough to take over yet. The oldest one here was eight; the youngest was a toddler.
Joseph assumed he would be given the job when Reicher died, breaking the lab rules on inheritance for the first time. He didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. At 30, he would also be the youngest person to ever hold that position.
Joseph fought the urge to scratch his sweaty scalp. Despite the air conditioning, the hat he was required to wear always made him sweat. His uniform was often stained and wrinkled by the time they were finished, but Joseph didn’t mind. Having less residents meant more amenities could be used, like hot water. Joseph loved taking long showers while watching reality TV.
Reicher was exactly the opposite. He kept himself perfectly neat at all times and would stop whatever he was doing to fix the issue if something happened.
Joseph had only seen him deviate from it when dealing with descendants in training sessions. Reicher said that was the only time it was acceptable for the boss to look like anything other than what he was.
Joseph thought the older man was 20 pounds too light from his illness and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Reicher looked like an old man in his 80s, though he was much younger. He should be on a cabin porch in a rocking chair with a Life Alert button around his neck.
Joseph opened a new file on the supercomputer to be ready. He knew Reicher’s routine by heart. He’d been serving the man for ten years now. He knew everything his boss liked and hated in an assistant, as well as his feelings on the important parts of their jobs, but that was where it ended. They had no bond outside of this daily session. If I want to inherit, I should probably put in some effort on a personal relationship.
Reicher glanced over his shoulder. “There’s really no need. Our relationship is perfect as it is.”
The cold tone told Joseph his assumptions were wrong. Anger flared in his gut.
Joseph controlled it. Now I know which way I was hoping it would go.
Reicher rotated back to the window. “Subject One has a fire gift and a demon that’s tougher than all of the others in the cells around him.” Reicher dug in deeper. “A weak sonic gift, too. That could be useful.”
Reicher coughed into the waste can again and kept going. “Hybrid. Number One is a hybrid.”
Joseph peered over his monitor, trying to see that man. All of the captives below were close to middle-aged. Most hybrids died before they hit puberty.
Reicher studied the one-eyed man now being medicated by the silent staff. “He’s new. He hasn’t been a hybrid for long. In fact, I suspect he hasn’t been a descendant for long.”
Joseph was even more impressed now. Someone had been able to successfully share a gift with a normal. That was almost unheard of in the labs where none of them were willing to give up any small amount of power they had.
Reicher continued his evaluation. “Subject Two is also hybrid. I can feel it on them. They both received their gifts from the same alpha.”
Joseph made special notes on that. Alphas had become common after the war, but only a few of them had gifts to match the infamous title. Being able to share a gift with two normals made them someone to watch out for.
Reicher moved on. “Number two also has sonic and fire. I sense a healing gift, too.”
Reicher was surprised that Marc’s team contained a healer at all. Healers were rare among their kind. He would have expected all of those to remain with Safe Haven on their island. “Three is normal. As are Four, Five, and Six. All normal and novices.”
Joseph got ready to type in removal orders. “We don’t have a place for them unless you want to move them into lab training.” They didn’t have anyone to train low-level staff right now, other than putting them through the lab routines, but those slots were never wasted on normals. They had just enough staff and supplies to convert this batch of fighters. Then they would have to downsize and shift their priorities to training.
“I’ll let you know. Subject Seven is a doctor.” Reicher was stunned. “The man is also a descendant. We’ll get him working in a medical wing as soon as we reach a milestone in his conversion process.”
Reicher examined the four normal rookies trying to reach out to the doctor for help with their injuries. “Don’t remove the rookies right away. Use them for number seven’s conversion.”
Joseph considered that a brilliant idea. It wasn’t a complete waste of lives.
Reicher scanned the next cage. “Another rookie. Also normal… But he has potential. Assign Subject Eight to the dimension level. I suspect he’s Invisible. There’s a dark place in his mind. If I’m wrong, he’ll go into a security slot.”
Joseph agreed with that choice. That dark place was a clear sign of the person being Invisible. The only time that wasn’t true was when the person was a psychopath. Either was perfect for a security position in the lab.
Reicher controlled the need to cough again. “Subject Nine has the rage illness. It’s in an advanced stage. I also detect an ice gift and control over water.”
“Do you want him cured of the rage illness?”
“Negative. We’ll use him to further the conversions of the others. Assign him to security training as his starter.” They didn’t have enough security officers. The new man could be used to supplement that until the rage became too bad to control. If he became a convert, then he might earn the cure.
The computer beeped behind him. Reicher ignored it to finish his scan of the new captives. “Ten is military. Very angry but not infected. Telekinesis, and possible quake abilities. Make sure his training follows the lab schedule to the letter. Even if he can’t be converted, he can be used against the others.”
Reicher went to the communication pad next to his chair. He flipped the switch and searched the screen as the live camera centered on his target. “They made it faster than you assumed. Don’t forget to factor that into computations for the rest of this team.”
Joseph caught the disapproving tone. He had estimated how long it would take Marc and Cerise to reach her homestead, but he’d been off by half an hour. Reicher didn’t like mistakes, even small ones. “I’ll do better next time, sir.”
“See that you do.” Reicher sat down in the chair and was overcome by a coughing fit. He paused the live recording so his new prey wouldn’t immediately be aware of his presence.
The waste can caught another bloody clump before Reicher wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his dark blue uniform and then focused on the monitor. “It’s all about this moment, Marcus Brady. You can save us a lot of time and all of you a lot of pain by just agreeing to what I want. There’s absolutely no chance I’m going to go away. Just give in now.”
Reicher hit the button and reactivated the live camera and speaker system that was wired to every room in Cerise’s homestead. It had taken his engineers a week to get it all set up; he’d started gathering the supplies for it right after searching ahead to discover what future waited for him. That remarkable vision had revealed a destiny that would shape this time period in awful, incredible ways and lead to world domination for the winner. All he had to do was tame a wounded tiger that had escaped its cage.
 
 
2
Marc knew they were being watched before he left the shelter of the Acacia trees that bordered one side of the homestead. He was able to see tall gray paint-chipped columns of a long front porch covered in untouched red bottle brush flowers and Cape ivy that helped give the appearance of the home being deserted. The front door was wide open and the porch was covered in leaves and debris that had been blown there by the wind. The barn was also open, as was the entrance to the shed and the outbuilding next to it. Animal tracks in the dirt and filthy uncovered windows said no one was alive here. And it was all a lie.
Marc paused at the tree line. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
Cerise marched by him, wiping sweat from her neck. “Can we talk later? I want to get those maps.”
Everyone else followed her.
Marc stayed where he was and scanned again. He didn’t see people, but there were red dots all over his grid. He didn’t trigger the trap yet.
Marc tracked cables running down the side of the large house; they went in one of the open windows. It’s wired.
Cerise didn’t look at the corner of the porch as she climbed the stairs and entered the house but like Marc, she felt eyes on them. She kept her mind on her stolen maps and hoped things worked out the way she needed them to in the end.
Goldie and the others sank down in the chairs on the porch to get their breath back. They dropped the heavy gear they’d brought from the submarine.
The hike had drained them. Marc had refused to stop for breaks. They were all worn out except for him; he was barely showing any effects from the hike. He was clearly in better shape than the rest of them, not including Cerise. She looked the same as she always did. Nothing daunted her.
Marc reluctantly left the tree line and came into view of any number of cameras or satellites that the enemy might be using. He stayed ready to lift his shield as he examined Cerise’s ranch and her neighbors.
There was one other farm in the distance that belonged to Goldie’s family, according to what he’d been told. He spotted a small graveyard between the two properties but no fence line. He also didn’t detect any animals and the orchard trees were bare even though this was prime growing time here. The enemy had stripped everything. Marc assumed that meant the valuable people, too. Or those unlucky enough to be caught in the Draft.
He went up the porch steps and entered the parlor of the ranch house where he dropped his load of gear from the RIB. Long and shallow, the parlor curved around a grand staircase that went straight up for 20 feet and then broke off into several directions that led to other areas of the three-story home. It reminded Marc of expensive houses in the United States. The dusty backdrop of red mountains and rocky mesas through the windows provided the same impression. It made him homesick.
Marc followed Cerise’s footprints in the dusty debris to a rear office on the first floor. He surveyed her from the doorway as she dug through folders in an overturned file cabinet. She collected several papers and kept digging.
Marc quickly tired of waiting for her. He turned around and found Albert and Denese standing right behind him.
Denese looked at Marc in fear. “Don’t let them kill us.”
It was the first thing Denese had said to Marc, but it wasn’t surprising. The two crewmen knew they were in trouble. He had expected them to ask for help sooner. “I’ll do what I can.”
Denese wasn’t soothed by his noncommittal reply. “We can get you out of that lab, but you have to promise to take us to your island.”
Marc held out a hand, more than willing to make that deal. “Agreed.”
A staticky clapping noise echoed throughout the first floor. Marc and everyone else rotated toward it; a sarcastic voice overshadowed the clapping. “How touching. Kill them both.”
Before Marc could lift his shield around the two crew members, Goldie appeared in the hallway.
Denese tried to run.
Goldie shot her in the back.
He hit Albert in the chest.
Marc’s gun was out and his shield was up an instant later. He spun around, searching for the owner of the voice instead of killing Goldie like he wanted to. He couldn’t do that yet. Goldie was still valuable to the mission.
Cerise flipped the switch on the dusty desk monitor and turned it toward Marc. Then she resumed digging through the web-covered folders.
Marc waited for the static to clear, controlling his anger. He had already figured out whatever he promised would cause the opposite to happen. That would include vowing revenge for these two deaths. But I will get it. You can take that to the bank.
Goldie holstered and stepped closer to Marc.
Marc’s rage flared out through his shield and shoved the man backward. “I’m going to kill you before this is all over. If you get too close, that could happen now, while your boss watches and laughs about it.”
Goldie retreated. “They’ve got my kids, man. You’d do the same thing in my place.”
Marc shook his head. Cerise had obviously planned this. “That’s a hell of a mental shield you have.”
“It was a memory charm. I’m quite good with them, even upon my own.”
The monitor cleared, showing Marc an older man with haunting gray eyes, a neatly shaven face that clearly never saw sunlight, and a pristine security room with one staff member and one exit.
Reicher smiled politely. “Please, take a seat Mr. Brady. We have things to discuss.”
Goldie stared at the man whose face he’d never seen but whose voice he’d been hearing for a decade. Haussler had always been his main controller. So that’s the big boss. Huh. I expected someone more lethal-looking.
Cerise held in a snort. She was intimately familiar with Reicher; he was lethal in every way.
Reicher didn’t react to his stomach turning. He often felt ill while handling business. He didn’t let it interfere. “Mr. Brady?”
Marc didn’t reply yet. He was busy studying his adversary. At first glance, the old man appeared to be made of stone… Marc spotted a blood smear on his sleeve and blue lips that said his body systems weren’t doing well. “You’re dying.”
Cerise and Goldie both stared at the monitor in surprise.
Reicher clapped again, though not as roughly this time. “Sit, Marcus. That’s an order.”
Marc’s laughter echoed loudly.
Reicher’s eyes narrowed. “Sit or I’ll kill one of your teammates while you watch.” The camera view shifted to allow Marc to see the warehouse through the glass window. He stored all the details he could in the short view, but struggling captives gave him no other option. He reluctantly sat in the dusty office chair and leaned back with his arms across his chest.
“Excellent.” The monitor showed him the boss again. “My name is Carl Alexander Reicher.”
Marc mentally sighed at the formalities. “Sergeant Marcus Brady.”
“I am the Secretaries-General of the remaining UN forces. I’m also commander of the lab you came to infiltrate.”
Marc saw no reason to hedge his bets, yet. “I’m coleader of Safe Haven and the team leader who is going to shut you down for good.”
Reicher kept it going, curious how much Marc would give away during this first meeting. “I’m an alpha. I give orders and people follow them or they die. That includes your team.”
Marc shrugged. “Then you should probably go ahead and kill them. None of us are going to do what you want willingly.” Marc studied the man harder. “Is that why you split us up? Because you think I’ll turn on my team or that my team will turn on me?”
“Splitting your team was Cerise’s idea. She suggested you might be more amiable if you weren’t attacked and hurt before we had this conversation. I agreed because I want to make you an offer.”
That told Marc his teammates had been injured during their capture. He controlled his anger again, but it laced his tone. “Why me?”
Reicher studied Marc through the monitor. “You have most of the gifts of the others, plus an interesting tracking ability. Are you able to share that grid with someone else to help them?”
“Yes.” It bothered Marc that the man was able to read him over a distance. “Successfully.”
“And that sonic door, does it actually contain a full sonic gift?”
Marc kept a tight thumb on that door to make sure it didn’t open. “Yes.”
“You’re also proficient with fire, ice, pain spells, physical combat, and mental manipulations.”
Marc lifted a brow. “Why the gift recital? Recording it?”
Before Reicher could answer, the one staff member spoke in shock. “You’re giving it to the bünzli!”
Marc sniggered at the Swiss-German slang term for a goody-two-shoes. “That doesn’t fit me anymore.”
“I suspect it never did.” Reicher smiled at proof of Marc’s intelligence. “Yes, Joseph is recording my observations about you, Subject Eleven.”
Marc immediately fired back. “I only hear one flunkey and he’s disrespectful, which means you’re shorthanded or you’d never allow it. And even though you can track me over a distance, you’re not able to open my mental doors. You might be an alpha, but you’re nowhere near as strong as I am.”
Reicher shrugged. “And you’re not as strong as the alpha who created two adult hybrids.”
Marc twitched, then recovered. “That’s why I’m the coleader.”
“Yes, we may discuss Safe Haven’s iron ruler at some point if you accept my offer. For now, please read the document appearing on the screen.”
Marc wasn’t in the mood for games. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I’d rather you read the terms first.”
Marc snorted. “You’re buying time for your troops to surround me.”
“Not really, though a transport team is enroute to your location. I hope this will be a peaceful agreement between willing partners.”
His foe spoke with the cool cultured words of childhood instructors. It was hard for Marc to place a nationality. His flunkey was Swiss and had obviously been allowed to bond with his ethnic origins. Marc carefully pushed a button. “What do you want, Commander Reicher?”
Reicher’s graying eyebrows came together. “I’ll teach you to have respect for authority. It’s obvious the Marines weren’t able to do so.”
Marc didn’t rise to the bait this time. He could feel Reicher searching for his buttons and trying to make him do something rash.
Reicher pushed a button on the screen instead. The monitor showed a document on one side.
Marc began reading it.
Goldie read it as well, while Cerise resumed digging through the folders. She had a small stack of papers in her hand now, but she hadn’t found what she was searching for yet. “It has to be here somewhere.”
Marc’s attention was snagged as he read the document. “This is a contract.”
Reicher’s voice echoed through the monitor. “If you’ll agree, you can be brought down to join your team. The harsh methods used to subdue them won’t be necessary with you.”
In the background, the Swiss voice echoed again, “That’s why it isn’t necessary. You don’t need a bond with me.”
“Shut up, Joseph.”
Marc smirked even as he kept reading. “It’s hard to keep subordinates under control.”
Reicher’s tenor hardened. “All it takes is the right motivation. For example, Joseph here has decided he wants my job. He can’t have it because he’s too good at his own. Once he finally concludes that his position is more acceptable than mine, he’ll adjust and accept my answer. I hope you’ll do the same when you recognize the wisdom of what I’m offering.”
Marc got to the final sentences of the document and tensed. His mind refused to accept what he was reading. This has to be a bad joke.
Goldie stepped closer to finish reading the document over Marc’s shoulder. His mouth opened. “You can’t be serious!”
Marc dropped his shield and punched Goldie in the kidney. The large man fell to the floor, groaning. “I did tell you not to get close.”
Reicher’s laughter mocked all of them. “Once you sign that contract, you’ll have to let others abuse your subordinates. We don’t do things that way here.”
“I got it.” Cerise picked up the map and the dart gun that had been beneath it.
The contract vanished from the screen. Reicher’s gray face replaced it. He stared intently. “Will you take my offer?”
Marc sneered. “No. I don’t want your job! I want you dead.”
Reicher sighed in resignation. “If that’s the way it has to be, then that’s the way it has to be. Cerise?”
Marc lifted his shield again, but it was too late to stop the dart that was already flying through the air. It plunged into his arm.
Cerise lowered the dart gun, shaking her head. “You knew we couldn’t be trusted. I don’t understand why you let any of this happen.”
Marc didn’t fight the drugs; he let them pull him down. It’s all part of the plan.
Goldie got to his feet. He stared at Marc as the monitor went to static. “He let us capture him.”
“Yes.” Cerise used the dart gun to weigh down the maps she’d found.
“But we didn’t tell Reicher…”
Cerise didn’t verify that because it was obvious. They were playing a dangerous game.
Cerise helped Goldie pick Marc up. They carried him outside, where a transport crew was arriving. “It better be one hell of a plan, mate, cause you’re in deep shit now.”
Two blue and white transport jeeps pulled up as they got Marc outside. Cerise and Goldie did the heavy work while the short-staffed troops stayed in their vehicles.
Cerise didn’t recognize the transport drivers, but it was clear they did recognize her. Their worried gazes kept returning to the red mark of an outcast on her arm. They knew she was capable of disobeying orders and that it often ended in bloodshed.
A rear hatch rose on the first jeep.
They weren’t rough while loading Marc, despite Goldie having reason to be. Both of them liked Marc even though he didn’t like them. They placed Marc in the rear of the lead jeep and started to return to the ranch house.
The driver leaned out the window. “Get in.”
There was no point in arguing. It was clear the order came from Reicher.
Goldie slid into the backseat and shut the door. He didn’t mention the pile of gear they’d left in the parlor of the house. It would be found and used by needy people.
The two transport jeeps were dusty and cramped. The small vehicles had probably been sent to conserve fuel. As Cerise joined Goldie in the backseat, she verified that by peering at the gas gauge on the dashboard.
It was sitting at a quarter of a tank. That was exactly how much it took for these smaller vehicles to get from here to the Australian lab. The boss wasn’t taking chances that his troops would go off on their own with a full tank of gas.
They were underway a few seconds later, headed back to where they’d both been born–in a lab. They’d started these homesteads in hopes that they would be able to live here in the future, but the government hold over their lives had never changed. Being born in the lab usually meant they would also die there. That lingered in both of their minds as the small convoy flew toward the nearest city without stopping or slowing.
 
As the two transport jeeps fell out of sight over the next rise in the road, survivors began emerging from around both homesteads. They stepped out of the shadows or rose from the weeds on the ground. They’d been there the whole time and hadn’t given themselves away.
A small group of these survivors collected their gathering shovels from the ground where they had dropped them upon hearing the new arrivals. They headed for Cerise’s house. The gunshots had told them there were bodies inside; anyone the UN killed was likely their people. They would get a burial in the graveyard that was a great cover. The tomb below it was being used as shelter for the men, women, and kids who made up the Australian Resistance Force.

 
Chapter Three
You Need Me Too Much
 
1
Joseph saved the file and then faced his boss as the buzzer sounded for the security exit. “Do you want me to follow normal protocols for him?”
Reicher shook his head, acting like he wasn’t furious about Joseph’s insubordination during the call. That would be paid back at a later date. “We don’t need to torture him physically. Let him know what we’re doing, but don’t harm a hair on his head. His guilt will lead us to success.”
Joseph entered that into the computer.
Reicher stood from his chair to get a little feeling back in his aching legs. The blood clots and varicose veins were an awful combination with the aggressive cancer. “Send Goldie and Cerise to me as soon as they arrive.” It would take most of the day for them to get here. “I’m staying the night.”
The buzzer sounded again. The heavy door began to swing shut.
Joseph hurriedly rose and left. It wasn’t the first time Reicher had decided to spend the night locked in here. “Pleasant evening, Boss.”
“And to you.”
The door shut. The lock activated.
Joseph let his true emotions swarm his face for a moment. He was furious that an outsider was being offered such a valuable position in the organization. He was also a little relieved because he had been worried about living up to Reicher’s intense standards. Marcus Brady would bear the brunt of an awful training program while Joseph got to continue doing pretty much what he wanted whenever he wasn’t in the security room that was the center of the octagon that formed this level.
Joseph strode through the white-tiled hall toward the showers. He always put his gear in there before his shift, so it was ready. He didn’t stare into any of the living quarters that didn’t have doors or look through the glass windows that allowed everyone to see what everyone else was doing as he went by.
The UN didn’t believe in privacy. They believed in knowing what everyone was doing in case it was against the rules. The security personnel enjoyed punishing rule-breakers; the UN often rewarded a snitch with extra rations or credits on their account. It wasn’t a good place to be a rebel.
People stared at Joseph politely as he went by. He wasn’t the only one who believed he might inherit leadership here when Reicher passed. The boss’s illness wasn’t a secret from anyone. Until they found out about Marc, they would continue to watch Joseph for greatness as well as mediocrity. It was one of those moments in time where almost anyone could become a leader. And if Marc dies during his stay here, Reicher will have to give it to me.
If Joseph made a huge mistake, he would be killed. If he did something great, he might be loved forever for not being one of the few elites who usually gained power in this organization. He would be a hero to the lower classes.
Joseph cared about those things, but his addictive daily routine took up most of his mental facilities upon release from his shift each day. He had developed several coping methods over the years; the one he was currently employing always worked. If he didn’t have this routine, he wasn’t sure he would be able to tolerate living down here with so many monsters.
Joseph passed the cafeteria. He nodded to all three of the identically dressed people sitting at the middle table. The cafeteria was completely AI and deserted except for that trio. Sasha and Isabel were the sisters who ran the medical department on this floor. Sasha was curvy with long black hair. Isabel was heavily pregnant once again with twins. Her short gray hair was almost hidden beneath her hat.
The sisters were rotating twin machines. Over the last three decades, each woman had birthed 15 sets of twins. The awful diet served to them kept the machines well-oiled. Neither of the sisters looked their real ages, but the regimen couldn’t stop their hair from changing. Both women were starting to go gray and they’d become self-conscious about it. Neither of them wanted to relinquish the prestige of being the official twin breeders in this complex.
Sitting next to them, arrogant Owen was the top security officer. He had excelled at every test and every challenge he’d been presented with. He was also the father of half of the twin sets with the women sitting across from him. That trio didn’t love each other, they weren’t monogamous, and they didn’t have feelings at all for their offspring. They were totally loyal to the program and all three of them were normal.
Sasha saw Joseph going by; she gave him a flirting smile and wave that he responded to with the same polite nod. He always refused advances from the sisters and he never signed up for the breeding programs. I need other outlets for my urges.
The trio watched until he was out of sight, but they didn’t make snide remarks or even mental jokes once he was gone. Joseph was a descendant. He might catch them and tell the boss. All three normals wanted to keep their lives here and they would do anything to make sure that happened. Pretending they liked Reicher’s assistant was a small price to pay.
Joseph entered the shower and went to the first stall. He could feel the AI watching him and recording his movements, but nothing he was about to do was against the rules.
Joseph stepped into the water spray and began to strip. It was a rule to conserve water. The cleaners would come in later and take care of the laundry at the same time as the shower.
Joseph activated the security monitor next to the shower. It showed naked females being tortured for information on the Australian Resistance Force.
Joseph took himself in hand and began to enjoy the show. “I can’t mate with Sasha or Isabel because they have to be alive when it’s over.”
 
 
2
“You may enter.”
Cerise entered the security room at Reicher’s command. Goldie stayed near the open door. Everyone knew the time lock system had a short hour of operation. He didn’t want to be stuck in here with the boss. He didn’t want to be here at all. If not for his missing babies, he wouldn’t have signed up for this run.
The five-hour ride here had been long and dusty with open windows and no air conditioning. The jeeps hadn’t held enough fuel to run that amenity.
Neither of them had missed being in the labs. Despite being loyal to the UN in the past, they hated this place and everything it stood for. Finding out the UN was a smoke screen for global laboratories hadn’t changed that feeling at all. They were one and the same as far as the captives were concerned.
The residents they’d passed in the halls had given sympathetic glances and no conversation. They were all certain he and Cerise were in for ugly punishments. Goldie thought they were probably right.
Reicher motioned to the desk where Joseph usually sat. “You will man that station while we talk.”
Cerise did as ordered. She had worked in a room like this for a year at her birth lab. She knew the computer system well.
Reicher studied Goldie. “As soon as we finish this debriefing, go to decontamination.”
“I will, sir.” Goldie assumed his sweaty, blood-splattered clothes were offensive, but he wasn’t sure. This was the first time he had ever met Reicher in person.
Reicher fought the need to cough. “By now, I’m sure you’ve heard about the death of your wife.”
Goldie controlled the urge to lash out. It wouldn’t help him and it was too late to save her. “Yes.”
“We did try to help her. Your offspring were too large for her body and by the time we realized we needed to do surgery, she had lost too much energy and blood. We were able to birth both of your children, however.”
Goldie stored the information to abuse himself with it later. I should have been there for her.
“Your babies are not doing well. When you leave decom, go straight to the newborn trauma center and stay with them until we decide they’re strong enough to be on their own.”
Goldie’s relief was palpable. “Thank you!”
Reicher’s bushy brows came together. “You’re going to be punished. You were given orders that you did not carry out. You will be put into retraining and eventually moved to the security staff.”
Goldie glanced over at Cerise, who was busy typing everything into the computer. He looked back at Reicher. “If I had killed her, she wouldn’t have been able to complete her mission.”
Cerise didn’t react. She already knew who had given the order for her removal.
Reicher shrugged with a slight movement of his hunched shoulders. “It doesn’t change the facts. Failure usually means death. You’re being given a second chance at rehabilitation.”
Goldie examined the timer on the lock begin counting down. There was less than a minute left now. He couldn’t help being stressed by it.
“During your retraining, you may be around Marcus Brady or his team. When you do have contact, you will be monitored. Obey orders.”
“I will, sir.”
Reicher bobbed his chin toward the exit. “Get out.”
“Yes, sir!” Goldie was out the door a second later.
Cerise sighed. “If you wanted time with me, Carl, you could have sent flowers and candy.”
Reicher burst out laughing at her boldness. Then a coughing fit took over and ended with him hacking up another bloody lump.
Neither of them spoke as the buzzer went off and the door began to shut. The faint noises of the living quarters echoed to them and then shut off abruptly. The timer reset for 12 hours. He never left this room now. All his gear had been brought here, including pain medications that didn’t work and sleeping powders that did. Reicher was trying to slow his decline with a cold environment, but it wasn’t working.
Cerise wasn’t surprised, though she wasn’t eager for the time alone with the boss man. It would have been easier if he only wanted one thing from her. That wasn’t the case with Reicher. While she would end up giving her body, too, it was the intrusion into her mind that she objected to.
“I want Goldie listed as a prisoner of war.”
Cerise made a quick correction to the file and then waited.
“You are as well.”
She swallowed a chill and typed it in.
“We’re going to get into your time with Safe Haven and the fascinating people you met there. Before we do, I want your opinion on the offer I made to Marcus Brady.”
Cerise took a minute to find that answer. Reicher could read her mind so there was no point in trying to lie, but if she started babbling all the details she’d picked up, he would become annoyed and punish her. She needed to give him what he wanted in the fewest words possible.
Reicher settled back in his chair, content that the next 12 hours would keep him entertained. It would be that long before Marc woke up.
Cerise swiveled her chair. Reicher preferred to look at someone’s face instead of the back of their head. “He’s perfect for the job. Once you break him down and remove his conscience, he’ll be even better than you are.”
Reicher spent a minute scanning her thoughts as she showed him which moments with Marc made her believe that. It wasn’t horrifying to observe the replay of Marc drowning his lover, but it was a bit troubling. “Is he a psychopath?”
Cerise nodded. “But only in the sense that once you make his enemy list he’ll plan a way to end you. He has a horrible habit of following orders, however; most of the revenge is physical or oral. Kendle pushed him into killing her. I doubt he would have done it without her extra shove.”
Reicher knew they could use that during Marc’s retraining. “What about his other relationships?”
She snorted. “As far as I could tell, he doesn’t have any. Everyone respects him and a lot of people fear him, but only a few of them actually love him. His wife and children aside, I can only think of one other person in that camp who would be devastated if he was gone and that was his mentor and trainer.”
“Todd O’Neil.”
“Yes.” Their details on Safe Haven’s members and relationships had grown with every contact and every battle. Even the ones they’d lost had earned them information. “Marc is an angry man. He likes to kill and he’s byzan, like us. He’s absolutely brilliant for the most part. He will have accounted for 95% of anything we can come up with.”
“I knew that as soon as I read his Ghost file. We’re going to use straightforward truth and tactics on Mr. Brady. There won’t be any tricks, though he’ll waste his energy searching for them, I’m sure.”
“If you were holding his wife or kids in here, it still wouldn’t help. All he would be concerned with is a rescue. Any converting he did during that time would be faked.”
“Agreed. Donner’s notes about Angela filled in a lot of blanks for us there. That’s part of why we chose not to bring her along.”
Cerise laughed this time. “Yeah, chose not to.”
Like most people in authority, Reicher didn’t like being made fun of or the use of sarcasm at his expense. He did like Cerise’s courage, but it was clear she had spent too much time away from the lab. “I want you back in the birthing wing.”
Cerise winced at the memory of her dead children. “I’d be willing to do that, on one condition.”
“You’re in no position to barter with me!”
She stared at Reicher in silent warning. They were both byzan, but she was a lot healthier than he was. In a fight, he might not win.
Reicher knew what she was thinking, but he also knew what made her tick. “You want your kids returned in the reset.”
Cerise didn’t try to hide her pain. “If you promise me that, and put it in writing, I’ll do whatever you want–like I always have.”
Reicher was satisfied that their hold over her was still concrete. The death of her last child had put her on the removal list because he hadn’t been certain she was controllable anymore. Reicher had sent the order to Goldie and then been relieved when Goldie had failed to follow it. Cerise was more valuable alive even though he didn’t need her to know that.
“Why did you order Goldie to kill me?”
Her question told Reicher she wasn’t scanning him. “You know loose ends have to be cleaned up.”
Cerise accepted that explanation even though she would have liked more details on it.
“Where will Saul go with my nuclear submarine?”
Cerise had already been contemplating that. “He kept talking about going someplace warm and getting out of that ship. I think he’ll head south and take a vacation. But he’ll listen to the radio. Whoever wins can call him if they’re willing to make a deal for what he wants.”
“What does he want?”
Cerise shrugged “I was busy with Marc and his team. I didn’t dig in on that one. Sorry, sir.”
Reicher wasn’t worried about it. “Did you give him the order to fire?”
“No, that was Safe Haven, but I would have if it let me accomplish my mission.”
“Good.”
“I saw your brother in Safe Haven.”
Reicher was surprised for the first time in a while. “He joined them?”
Cerise nodded. “And I do mean joined. He’s not one of us anymore.”
Reicher scowled at her. “Then why is he alive? You should have handled that already.”
“I thought it would be a more fitting punishment to let Rico spend a month enjoying the place and bonding with people before we tell them, and they hang him.”
Reicher smiled, soothed. “That sounds exactly like what my brother needs.” He was satisfied with her honesty but not her mood. “You seem different. Has something happened that I am not aware of?”
Reicher placed it right before she started to speak. The alpha.
“I spent time around Angela.” Cerise looked away. “She rubs off on you.”
Reicher put the clues together. “She is the one who shared her gifts with the normals, yes?”
“That was the gossip while we were there, but the two hybrids stayed to themselves on the sub. I wasn’t able to figure out much in the way of details beyond their goals and regrets.”
He gestured at the computer. “Each subject has a file in there. Expand the details with what you did learn.”
Cerise got busy, ignoring the man now removing his clothing. She honestly wasn’t concerned about a short physical moment with Reicher as long as it resulted in the return of her family. A quick orgasm with the boss wasn’t horrible. The after-sex interrogation he would want to do, was.
 
 
3
Marc woke with a dull pain in his arm and a throbbing pain in his brain. He resisted the urge to rub his skull, instead staying still until he was fully alert.
The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing a paper robe with nothing underneath. His arm felt like it had been used as a punching bag. He knew they’d drawn blood and started an IV. He could feel the needle in his arm for whenever they wanted to give him another dose of the drugs to knock him out. He didn’t have shoes on, or socks, and he was covered with a paper-thin emergency blanket that would likely be thrown away after a couple of uses. The enemy wasn’t wasting supplies on him yet apparently.
He listened and smelled, but there wasn’t much to go on. He didn’t hear any voices or anything other than the push of an air-conditioned breeze through a vent above him. He could smell Freon and some sort of cleaning chemical, along with a medicated shampoo. There were no voices, no perfumes, and no draft to indicate an open window or exit. Marc scanned for people next.
He flinched from the instant pain in his head. He didn’t have his gifts back yet and the drugs he’d been hit with had a nasty side effect of keeping their target in pain. Marc already hated waking this way. And there are a lot more mornings like this one to come. If it even is morning. I have no idea what time it is or even what day it is.
A clicking noise and then an operating system loading echoed. Marc understood his captor knew he was awake. He opened his eyes.
Marc stared at the concrete ceiling, hating the paint. Blue and white implied a cheery shelter and this was anything but. He didn’t have to see the other captives to know screams were more likely to be their company.
Marc turned his head and saw a large viewing screen on the wall across from the stiff cot where he was laying. The room had no other furniture, no bathroom, and not even a garbage can if he threw up. I’d hate to be the cleanup crew.
“Mr. Brady.” Reicher’s voice came through the dark monitor that was still loading up. “A crew is about to come in and bring you a few of the amenities you’re missing. If you attack them, there won’t be any others.”
Marc stayed where he was. He didn’t have control of his body yet. It was a bad time to try and escape, not that that was the plan anyway. “How long have I been here?”
“Time doesn’t mean much. Try not to view it in those terms.”
By the painful clenching of his stomach, Marc estimated it had been two days since he’d had a decent meal.
The room was pristine, telling him it had been cleaned recently. There was no debris on the floor from footprints and no dust on the monitor. Marc wasn’t sure why he had been brought to a viewing flat instead of a torture session, but he was glad that part of his captivity wasn’t starting yet.
The screen finally loaded. Reicher looked the same as he had before, though the blood smear on his sleeve was gone. His hair and mustache were meticulously neat. But Marc didn’t feel like it was a vanity issue. Reicher had it in his mind that a boss should look a certain way and he made sure that he did. I can use that. Marc smothered the thought and moved on. He already assumed Reicher was reading everything that went through his brain, but some of it couldn’t be helped. Noticing details about people was part of what he’d been doing all his life.
The door next to the monitor opened. Two UN troops wearing full battle gear carried in a handful of bags and set them right inside the door. They quickly left without speaking. The lock clicked.
Marc realized the door hadn’t been locked when he woke up, but it didn’t matter. He was just memorizing routines at this point.
“You’ll find everything you need in the bags to last you roughly two weeks.”
Marc slowly sat up, not caring if his gown sagged open and flashed his balls at the man. He did tug the blanket over his legs because he was chilly. “Two weeks, huh? Is that how long you’re going to keep me here?”
“I seriously doubt I’ll be patient that long, Mr. Brady.”
Marc yawned. “Marc is fine.”
“Excellent. You may continue to call me Reicher.”
Marc chuckled. “I guess all that equality talk was just talk.”
Reicher coughed to clear his throat. “The boss here has the ability to create a world with true equality for everyone or no one, based on his choices.”
Marc assumed the mental manipulation was about to begin. To delay it, he began asking questions. “Why didn’t you offer the job to my wife? She’s the hardass.”
“There are no women in generational leadership. They get too emotional about children and refuse to do the testing correctly. It’s the only way we discriminate between the sexes.”
“What is the purpose of this lab?”
“To discover answers to the riddles that have been plaguing mankind since we were put on this earth. Being the boss here means upholding law and order. It’s much like the military that you served so faithfully before the war.”
Marc slowly stood and went over to the gear. He felt like he could eat a horse. “What do you do here?”
Reicher wasn’t discouraged with a copy of the same question. He gave more information this time. “We have departments that are searching for other dimensions, like the one where your wife shared her demon offspring. Some of our labs test for life after death and hunt the keys to true immortality. Other departments are searching for answers from Blinkers. The true purpose of our foundation is information. You could be a hero with us, Marc. We don’t like bad guys, either.”
“Then you shouldn’t have decided to be one.” Marc picked up a canteen of water and uncapped it. He sniffed it before taking a short drink. When he didn’t taste anything wrong, he downed half of it and let out a loud belch.
Reicher was encouraged by the way Marc was able to keep up with a conversation even though he’d just woken from being drugged. He decided to push it into a new level. “You’d be a real boss here, Marc, not like the co-leadership you had in Safe Haven. You’d be able to save your team and any future kids after you’re in charge. If you decide there shouldn’t be a final battle, then we would even side with Nature. Given your failed battle with her, I assume that appeals to you.”
It bothered Marc that the enemy had detailed information about recent events. “No more wars between descendants and normals?”
“Absolutely not. There will also be opportunities for you to go back and save your twin sister.”
Marc glared at the monitor.
Reicher tried another tactic. “How about no more Mitchels? Does that appeal to you?”
Marc laughed. “That appeals to anybody who has ever met a Mitchel.”
Reicher laughed with him. “Agreed. Do you have any other questions?”
“Who started these labs and when?”
“It was a combination of powerful families who came together during World War II, the false war, because it was a great cover for all the missing soldiers who ended up in these labs.”
Marc was able to assign the ethnicity now. Reicher’s declaration of World War II being a fake declared him German or Austrian. The pale skin and gray eyes made Marc think the man was both. “Who’s your boss?”
Reicher stared at him arrogantly. “I don’t have one.”
Marc believed that. The UN had been defeated in each battle they’d faced in the United States and at the International Detention Center. The finishing touches had been put on during the island invasion. It was easy for him to believe the UN was on its last legs. “What’s the catch if I agree?”
Reicher didn’t lie. “You can never ever leave. You’re here until you die.”
Reicher’s stomach flipped over as Marc studied him through the monitor.
Marc kept drinking from the canteen and trying to recover his demon.
“It won’t work. You belong to me now, whether you believe that or not. Take the easy way out. Sign my contract. I’ll have a staff member bring it in. That staff member will then stay with you and take care of you in any way you desire while we prep you for training.”
Marc was tired of this. Until they were face-to-face and the man was in reaching distance, it was all pointless. “I’ve already given you my answer. That’s not going to change.”
Reicher tried one more time. “It would also mean no more attacks on Safe Haven unless you order it, and more knowledge than you can consume in a lifetime. Or perhaps you’d like to live longer. You can have a prolonged life as long your body doesn’t betray you with something we can’t cure.”
“What if I still say no after all your retraining attempts?”
“We’ll use your team to our advantage.” Reicher cleared his throat again.
“You need me too much to kill my team and alienate me. You’re bluffing.”
Reicher’s laughter echoed as he pushed a button. The monitor switched to a vision of a warehouse and a cell with a naked captive inside. “I’ll talk to you again. In the meantime, please enjoy the movie I’ve arranged for you. It’s live.”
Marc froze as the camera narrowed in to show Greg. This is going to be bad.
Marc began digging through the food. Maybe it’ll be drugged and I won’t have to watch this.


Chapter Four
Until I’m Dead
Mission Day 14
 
1
“Food’s burning. I smell it.” Greg groaned as his swollen stomach clamped and twisted. “No more burnt food.”
Greg snapped awake from the standing doze. Fear refilled his mind. I’m still here, in this cage. They hurt me. They’re about to do it again.
He’d lost count of the days since their capture; it might have been five. The first two had been naked isolation in the dark, unable to see, hear, or taste anything. When the hoses had come on, he’d barely felt the cold drenching for getting a drink. Smells, he’d had the entire time. Shit and vomit were bad, but the acid scent of his piss fading into nothingness was the worst. They’re weakening me.
No one talked to him at all. He hadn’t heard another voice since they’d been overwhelmed on the beach. That’s where I lost my eye.
Greg mentally spun away from that memory. He held onto the slimy cage bars and braced as best he could. It was hard to get ready for pain. Rushing in as an Eagle was different than being totally helpless in front of the enemy. His demon was useless while he was drugged, and his captors had been careful to keep him that way. He’d also lost count of how many needles had been plunged into his body; he couldn’t narrow down how long it had been that way either. I have to find a way out!
He’d never been around cells like these. They had no weak spots to kick apart and no hole for a key. I can’t pick a lock that doesn’t exist.
The ceiling above the cell had wide beams that supported either a roof or another floor. It was impossible to tell. There were no noises from outside this room. Greg hadn’t been questioned. No demands or accusations had been made. It was almost like the crews here couldn’t speak. They don’t even talk to each other.
Greg couldn’t see the other mission members, but he’d heard them. He assumed they were all somewhere in this huge warehouse that had dark green walls and concrete floors that led to a single exit. That beckoning egress was guarded by a wide gate made the same way as these cells–with no hole for the key. He hadn’t seen the gate open once, even though these weren’t the same tormentors as last time. Maybe they all live in here and are rocked to sleep by our screams.
Male and female forms in UN uniforms glided by with no expressions or self-expression. They didn’t jump at shouts or swipes through the bars. They didn’t grimace at vomit spraying them. Their noses didn’t curl as turds dropped near their gravity boots. They worked awful routines of pain, hoses, and drugs without responding to any stimuli. Maybe they’re AI.
Three of the emotionless blocks approached his cell with tools Greg recoiled from. He cringed against the rear of the cell as they advanced. “What do you want?!”
Flames shot out.
Darkness swarmed Greg’s vision. He fled from the agony, seeking sanctuary in his mind. Lisa.
Greg pushed through the mental fog while his body arched and a scream ripped from his aching mouth. He went deeper, squinting through the one eye that still worked. Lisa?
Over here! The woman’s shape was intimately familiar to Greg. He rushed toward her, leaving the smell of his burning flesh behind.
Lisa couldn’t see anything through the fog. “My dreams are usually clear. This is too much smoke.”
“They burnt the food.”
“I think the ship exploded.”
Greg’s words dried up; terror took their place as heat neared his groin. This is going to be bad. He surrounded Lisa with his arms and broken fingers. Hold me!
“Always!” Lisa squeezed him tightly.
Greg snapped awake. Tears rolled over his burnt cheeks. “Lisa! Lisa!”
Pain slammed into his body and stole his breath.
Greg passed out with the smell of his burning flesh filling his lungs.
 
 
2
Reicher activated the intercom. “Take him to the medical wing for an evaluation.” It had been four days; several of the subjects were ready for the next level of the process. “He made contact with Safe Haven. They’re having problems. I saw an explosion. They have at least half a dozen citizens hurt, including their leader.”
Joseph quickly typed it in, but he wasn’t as happy about it as Reicher was. At some point, he hoped to battle Safe Haven and win. He couldn’t do that if they were killed in an explosion that he didn’t have anything to do with. “Can I ask you a question?”
Reicher tensed. “If you must.”
Joseph hated how Reicher’s attitude toward him had grown colder since the new captives had been brought in. He had come up with another tactic he hoped might work–showing concern. “Have you considered letting one of their healers try to help you?”
Reicher’s tense shoulders relaxed. He’d been expecting a different question. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Joseph whine about not getting the promotion he wanted. “Yes, I have, but the organization needs them more than I do. My illness is so far gone that it would take the healer’s lifeforce and not just treatments.”
Joseph kept going. “Maybe another transfusion from the frozen Mitchel blood?”
Reicher grimaced mentally. He hated being viewed as weak in any way. “Perhaps, if I need it.”
Joseph knew he wasn’t supposed to keep going with that line of questioning. It was making the boss uncomfortable. He did it anyway. “If Marc doesn’t agree to what you want before things get too bad…?”
Reicher shook his head. “You’re never going to be a leader here, Joseph. You want it too much. I can’t give that power to you.”
“But, why? I’ve done everything you wanted and then some!”
“Shall I lie to you again or give you the hard truth?”
Joseph scowled. “I didn’t know you’d been lying to me at all.”
“The lie is that your job is more important than mine.”
“And the truth?”
Reicher ignored his burning guts. “The truth is you’re not strong enough to do my job. I can’t put a psychopath in charge. We’ll collapse and I could never allow that.”
“I’m not a psychopath.”
“Shall I recite your odd behavior?”
“I never break the rules.”
“No. You’re the perfect assistant.”
Joseph didn’t know what else to say. He scanned his boss and found the man perfectly neat and in control, but his eyes weren’t the same.
“Update me on our twins and pushers.”
Joseph forced himself to reply as if he hadn’t just been crushed. I don’t consider myself one of the monsters; he does. “We have nine sets of twins that still have their time abilities, all under four years of age. Goldie’s offspring are not getting better yet despite his constant care. Our pushers are fully rested. They can try again whenever you call it.”
“All in good time.”
“Why are you waiting?”
“Why do you care?” Reicher swallowed a cough. “In the end, ultimate goals will be achieved.”
“You mean Marc taking your place.”
Reicher thought of Safe Haven and didn’t answer.
 
 
3
“He’s waking up!” Isabel retreated from the exam table, holding her stomach.
Sasha kept working. “It’s okay. The painkillers are in full effect right now. He can’t feel this.”
“But it’s too soon! He shouldn’t be awake yet.”
“Just talk to him calmly and explain we’re working on his eye.”
Greg held still against the pressure of someone tugging and pulling on his face. “I am calm. You’re working on my eye.”
Sasha smiled even though he couldn’t see her through the bandages and towels. “Excellent. We’re almost done. Just don’t move.”
Greg felt something give in the eye socket. He knew what that meant. “You can’t save it, can you?”
The medic’s voice was regretful. “No, I’m sorry. We did try, but there was too much damage. We’re removing the remaining bits now. But you’ll still be able to cry!”
Greg groaned angrily.
Isabel frowned. “That was insensitive, Sasha.”
“Well, I just meant he would have some use out of the socket even though his eye is gone.” Sasha removed the last bit of rotting eyeball.
Greg cooperated, but fury and panic were already making their way through his brain again. He didn’t have his gifts back yet and he felt like he’d been on a week-long drunk with nothing to eat. “My stomach is rocking rough.”
“Isabel, give him 6.25 mg Prochlorperazine.”
Greg heard someone move and felt the IV in his arm being touched. A few seconds later, a cool liquid shot through his veins and began calming his stomach. He refused to say thank you.
“Since he’s already awake, should I start the questions?”
“Yes, Isabel. I’m almost done here. You can go ahead with the paperwork.”
Greg was both encouraged and discouraged to hear female voices. Most women were easier to overwhelm than men, but he didn’t believe in being rough with them. It was a catch-22. He decided to get information instead of planning their deaths. “How long have I been here?”
Sasha glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’ve been in the medical bay for almost two hours. You’ve been cleaned and your injuries tended. The eye is the last part.”
Because his first question had been answered, Greg went on, hoping that would continue. “I’d like to request a lawyer.”
One of the women snickered.
The other answered, “We don’t have lawyers here, Subject One. You don’t get a phone call and there won’t be any visits from the Red Cross or whatever humane treatment of prisoners agency comes to mind. We don’t have those things.”
Greg began to dislike Sasha’s cool, arrogant tenor. “Can I talk to your boss or my team leader?”
“I’m sure Reicher will talk to you when he’s ready. As for the rest of your team, no, you may not have any contact.”
“Where is my team now?”
Sasha frowned in annoyance. “In the same place you were before being brought in here.” She waved at Isabel. “Let’s do a swab wipe to make sure we got all the pieces.”
Their touch was light and impersonal. The women would have been right at home in Safe Haven’s medical bay. Greg could tell he had been well taken care of; he could also feel a thin robe over his burnt body and a lot of bandages. “Will I get a trial at some point?”
Isabel stepped back again. “So you admit you’re a criminal?”
“No.” Greg hadn’t expected that. “Why the torture and no talking? I might have been willing to answer your questions.”
Sasha glared at her sister to get her working again so they could finish before Reicher scolded them for taking too long. “We don’t decide on procedure for criminals.”
Greg was reduced to basic questions. “What do you want with me?”
“We don’t want anything from you, Subject One, except for your cooperation in completing our duty.” Sasha prepared a medicated bandage for his eye socket. “We have nothing to do with your captivity or retraining. My sister and I are just the medical staff. Please remember that.”
Greg didn’t like how it made him feel to think the medical staff wasn’t willing in the torture, but yet they were still a part of it by tending the injuries just to send him back into hell. “What happens to me now?”
“The boss will decide. Again, we have nothing to do with it.”
Greg believed her, but he still started to hate Sasha. “Can I sit up and open my other eye?”
“Yes.” Sasha removed the gory towels.
Greg didn’t like the sisters upon sight, but he was craving the sound of human voice. He refused to give them the cold treatment that Marc had suggested they use when they were captured. He lifted his hand to find his fingers in a cast, as well as a bandage on his foot. “How many toes did I lose?”
The accident on the beach had given him all of these injuries, except for the burns. The burns came from here and other than the eye, they were the worst part of the pain. Second degree burns never stopped hurting. Even the painkillers that had dampened the surgery on his eye weren’t preventing the hot stings from constantly itching across his arms and legs.
“Only two. They had to be removed; they were turning gangrenous.”
Greg spotted a tall form in the corner and realized the man was a security officer. His name tag said Owen.
Greg was thrilled that his other eye was working well, but he didn’t like the look of the security officer. Owen had dead black orbs and huge arms. If he knew how to fight at all, it would be a struggle Greg wasn’t ready for that after being weakened and now missing several body parts. He memorized other details instead of attacking.
Their identical outfits were only broken by small lapel pins that Greg assumed designated their jobs. Even their shoes were identical. He wondered if that was to keep them from having individual tendencies or if it was just easier to outfit staff by using the same uniform.
The medical bay was a long, narrow rectangle covered in locked metal cabinets, cameras, shelves that were fully stocked, a small bathroom with a shower, and one main exit that was guarded by the security officer. There was a glass window in one of the walls, but it was covered by blinds. Greg couldn’t tell what was outside the medical bay.
Greg tracked the IV in his arm to a bag of blood hanging from the IV pole. “You know it makes no sense to torture us and then heal us just to send us in for more torture. That’s the definition of insanity.”
Both female medics nodded, but they didn’t stop cleaning or doing paperwork.
Isabel waved her questionnaire. “If you don’t mind…”
Greg fell silent, waiting for the questions he had been expecting as soon as they were brought here.
“How did you become a hybrid and why?”
It took Greg a minute to understand the question. He had anticipated an interrogation over the infiltration and what they were doing here, not his descendant status. “Someone shared gifts with me because I proved I could be trusted.”
“And that was the alpha, Angela?”
Greg considered lying to protect her, but it was clear these people already knew the truth. “Yes.”
“Do you dream walk often?”
Again, it took Greg a minute to process the question. “No.”
He placed the clues together and realized that was why he was getting a break from the torture. His quick trip to see Lisa had impressed someone.
Greg studied the women again, dislike growing stronger. It was clear the women were related; one of them looked like she was due to give birth at any point. He couldn’t help the snarky pitch this time. “Aren’t you too far along to be working?”
Isabel gave him a warning glance, but she stayed out of his reach. “I’ve always worked until my water breaks.”
Greg decided to push a little more. “Then aren’t you a little too old to be pregnant?”
Anger flowed from Isabel and did absolutely no damage. Greg placed her as a normal. He was suddenly sure all three of them were.
Sasha got them back on track. “What do you know about alternate dimensions?”
This time, Greg’s mind went straight to the odd place where he’d chosen his demon. “A little. I’ve only been there once.”
Sasha and Isabel exchanged glances.
Greg assumed that was an incorrect answer, but it was too late to take it back now.
Isabel resumed the questioning. “What is your relationship to the other captives that were brought in?”
“We’re part of Safe Haven’s security force.”
“Are you related by blood or through a marriage at all?”
“Sort of. The father of my demon is my team leader.”
The medics exchanged another glance.
Sasha checked the sheet for the next questions when Isabel didn’t keep going. “What was your job in Safe Haven? Do you have family there?”
“No, no family. I was an Eagle.”
Sasha frowned. “An Eagle?”
“That’s what we call our security force.”
“Who is Lisa?”
Greg tried not to think about her. “My girlfriend.”
Isabel jumped back in so she didn’t get punished for not doing her job. Greg’s answers were fascinating. “What do you know about the Australian Resistance Force or ARF?”
Greg frowned. “The what? Who?”
It was clear he wasn’t lying. Isabel went on to the next question. “How well do you know Saul?”
Greg’s frown deepened. “Enough to know he probably shouldn’t be allowed into anyone’s camp, even yours. The man is nuts.”
“Do you know where he went?”
Greg realized Saul was MIA with a nuclear submarine. “No. I doubt he’ll go back to Safe Haven, though. Angela wanted him to sink that sub. If he shows up with it, she’ll make him follow through.”
Owen spoke for the first time. “Your boss wanted you to sink a nuclear submarine?”
Greg didn’t nod and cause his headache to get worse. “Yes. She said it was too much power for any one person or group to have over everyone else.”
Owen resumed his watchful silence as Isabel recorded the answer.
Sasha opened the tube on Greg’s IV to allow the sedative already in the bag to go through. They were almost finished and letting Greg stay clear of the drugs wasn’t a good idea. Even after days of torture and starvation, his body was thick and strong enough to do real damage.
Isabel resumed filling out the paperwork. “I need you to tell me why you came here and then we’ll be all done.”
At this point, Greg saw no reason to lie. “My team and I came here to stop you from resetting time and to kill your boss so that he can’t ever restart the awful shit happening here.”
There was no surprise or even resentment from the two medics or the security officer.
Isabel finished the paperwork and put it in the right folder.
Sasha finished taping a bandage over Greg’s socket and then stepped back. “We’re finished, sir.”
Both female medics peered at the camera in the corner.
Greg concluded someone was watching them. His stomach flipped as a hard male voice came through the speaker.
“What is his medical status?”
Sasha smiled. “He can take a lot more.”
Isabel hadn’t forgotten Greg’s sarcasm. “Yes, send him back to his cell.”
Reicher admired Greg’s strength. “I agree.”
Greg tensed. “Is there something I can do to change your call on that?”
“Not a chance, Subject One. Owen will see you back to your cell.” Sasha quickly disconnected him from the IV and capped off both ends.
Weakness quickly ran through Greg’s limbs, not allowing him any chance to fight as Owen came over and lifted him off the medical table. He dragged Greg to the exit, ignoring the man’s resistance and his pleading. There wasn’t anything Greg could say or do to stop Owen from putting him back in his cell. Owen couldn’t be bought.
Greg tried to remain calm. At least I was medicated and my injuries were treated. It could be worse.
The elevator quickly took him down, telling Greg the medical wing was above the warehouse. As the elevator door opened, he spotted two indifferent staff members with electric batons waiting nearby.
Now Greg began to fight. Screams rolled from his mouth as Owen dragged him forward.
It didn’t slow things at all. He was in the cage seconds later; flames began blasting over his already burnt skin.
 
 
4
Marc glanced up from the toothbrush he was currently grinding down against a sharp spot along the wall. The monitor had been showing four of his rookies being tortured with fire. Marc’s guilt had reached a new level. The consolation was there was no sound on the monitor. He knew the rookies were screaming, though; he could almost hear it in his head.
Small layers of dust were beginning to grow on the viewing room. Marc had explored it fully over the last four days. He hadn’t found any spots weak enough to allow for an escape.
The dusty floor was littered in debris that had fallen from the ceiling, though Marc wasn’t sure when that had happened. His hair had held a light shower of the gray debris. He assumed there had been a small quake or some other vibration that had shaken it loose from the ceiling while he slept. This was an old facility that clearly hadn’t been repaired much even before the war.
The boss hadn’t contacted him again. The monitor had kept up a continuous show of torture, mostly focused on Greg. That bandaged, hurting, fighting man was now being shoved back into his cell. Once again, the electric batons were rotated in his direction.
Marc glanced away before his guilt got the best of him. Despite knowing this was going to happen, he was still falling for the mental abuse. He found himself staring at the monitor for long minutes at a time without being able to look away.
Marc scanned the door, where his waiting exothermic reaction of thermite, created with rust and aluminum from the hinges and the vent grates, would be an ugly surprise for anyone who opened it. He also had a small blade made from a lid that would join the toothbrush shank he was currently working on. He had his gifts back, too, but he was getting hungry. The food was drugged even though the water wasn’t. He was waiting as long as he could to eat.
He’d already tried to send his demon out to do a scan and discovered an electric barrier around the flat. As soon as staff members came in and the explosive on the door blew, he was heading out to hunt the boss. He had already lost patience with being caged. He couldn’t take much more of it without cracking.
The monitor went to static.
Marc quickly hid the toothbrush in the pocket of his robe. He had been provided with a lot of amenities, including a portable bathroom that was stinking in the corner.
The monitor cleared to show Reicher watching him knowingly.
Marc lifted a brow. “How are you on this fine day?”
Reicher chuckled roughly. “I admire your courage and stamina, Mr. Brady. Most of our captives resort to begging before now.”
Marc shrugged. “Well, I’m not the one being fried alive in a cage. That makes it a little easier.”
Reicher’s tone was sympathetic but his face didn’t change to match it. “Our methods are harsh, but effective. Please keep in mind that you can end this at any time.”
Marc smiled calmly. “Maybe we should have a face-to-face meeting and discuss it.”
Reicher wasn’t fooled. “You have to sign the contract first. Then you can kill me.”
Marc had come to the conclusion that Reicher’s offer was genuine, but it didn’t matter. “I can’t. I’m not evil enough to do your job.”
Reicher’s tone hardened. “But you are. My stomach’s burning. As you know, byzan repel when one of them is corrupt.”
Marc gestured with the hand that still had an IV needle in it. “That’s you.”
Reicher shook his head. “If that was the case, your stomach would be upset.”
Marc paused. “How can you not be corrupt? You’re a kidnapper and a killer, among other things.”
Reicher shrugged. “I’m following my destiny. You’re still fighting yours.”
Marc was forced to accept that Reicher was probably right, but it didn’t change his answer. “And I’ll continue to do so.”
“Have it your way, Mr. Brady.” Reicher turned toward his assistant. “As soon as he caves and eats, blow the door and take his weapons and all the supplies that are left.”
Marc realized Reicher was able to get through the force field around the door even though he couldn’t. That angered him and made him ashamed of himself for not trying harder.
The monitor flipped back to show Greg’s arms going up in flames while he tried to beat himself to put them out.
Marc looked away. “As long as I can’t hear it, I’m good.”
The monitor immediately switched to full sound. Greg’s screams blared through the speakers in horrible waves.
Marc went over to the remaining supplies and dug out another ration bar. He ate it quickly, willing the medication to knock him out faster so he didn’t have to listen to it. He was sure the sound would follow him into sleep, however.
The sound changed. Marc tried to brace as he heard the newly dubbed Chief Medical officer for his team start shouting in horror.
 
 
5
“They’re rookies! They don’t know anything!”
Harry and the rookies had been taken to a corner of this warehouse. After days of darkness and drugs, the torture had started. There had been two brief pauses where he’d been fed and watered, and hosed off. The rookies hadn’t been fed at all. Their bodies were showing it; their frantic shouts for food in exchange for information were awful on every level.
Harry had tried to share his food and been beaten for it. Eating while the starving rookies drooled and begged had crushed him. I ate instead of starving with them. I’m no Eagle.
Heat sprayed over the cells again.
Harry struck the slimy bars in outrage. “Stop it! Let me help them! Let me out!”
Fire flamed over his cell next, sending him into the corner to avoid the blast. Flame throwers were impossible to argue with when you didn’t have a weapon.
Harry broke. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know! Just stop it and feed them!”
More fire hit the rookies, burning them alive this time.
Rancid odors covered Harry in fury and fear. “I’ll kill you all for this! I’ll kill you all!”
Harry had been alert most of the time. He’d memorized the faces and their routines. He’d also kept track of the days by the shift change that ran 12 hours each. They’d been captives for five days.
Tears rolled over Harry’s face as the rookies stopped screaming. Fire engulfed them all. “Let me out! I can save them!”
The rookies couldn’t fight the flames. They fell or slumped against the cage bars.
An unchangeable loathing settled deep into Harry’s guts for every person on staff in this complex.
 
Reicher observed the frantic medical man below. He could feel something else coming. Joseph didn’t. It was another mark against him. “He’s about to break through.”
Joseph snorted. “From one of those cages? That’s not possible.”
“From the drugs.” Reicher observed intently. Very few descendants were able to fight through the drugs and still use their gifts and that included himself.
In the cell, Harry’s fury reached its peak. Terror and rage shoved him through a live evolution. Healing power flew out of his chest and surrounded the fallen, smoldering rookies.
All of the staff stopped to observe. Everyone was curious if he could revive the dead.
Reicher knew that wasn’t possible, but he was still impressed by Harry’s evolution. “Take him to the medical wing. Make sure he’s given a double dose first. We wouldn’t want him to wake too soon.”
Joseph typed it into the computer. He watched Reicher out of the corner of his eye. I want his job. I’m going to find a way to get it.
Reicher turned to look at him. “The only way you can get my job is if you kill me and Marcus Brady, and I’ve already left instructions for that possibility. Everyone in this complex will hunt you. You’ll never be a leader here, Joseph. Accept that so I don’t have to replace you.”
The timer on the exit buzzed. Reicher went back to his chair as Joseph hurriedly left before he attacked the man.
Joseph waved in the waiting cleaning crew as he left. “It stinks in there.”
Reicher gestured in permission for the crew who would empty his cans and bags and leave without speaking. It did stink. The waste can was full of bloody clumps and tissues. The embarrassment from Joseph’s words would be paid back later on the main target. He didn’t believe in killing the messenger.
Reicher knew he was in danger from Joseph, but there really wasn’t anyone else who could do the job as well, except for Cerise, who couldn’t be trusted any more than Joseph. If it came down to a battle, Reicher would rather face his assistant than his student. Cerise was by far the more bloodthirsty of the two. “That’s why she has to be retrained.”
It wouldn’t take her long to figure it out. Cerise was brilliant and her body was perfect.
Reicher smothered those old feelings. His love for Cerise could never be allowed to influence his choices. “I’m a lab rat, born and bred. I’ll be that until I’m dead.”

Book 18
Let's Go Back

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