Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

Miriam wasn’t happy, but someone had to make a decision.

“Bring him in.”

Jason was glad someone had bitten the bullet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. If nothing else he’ll increase our manpower by one.”

“Ok, then.”

Jason addressed the Marine.

“Who’s the fittest of you four, Geeky? I mean, who can get downstairs quickest?”

“That’ll be Spinks. He runs up and down skyscrapers for charity.”

“Go and fetch him, please.”

Marine Geek rushed to the other side of the building and returned with his colleague. Jason explained what he needed.

“I want you to run downstairs – leave your kit here, but take your weapon – and grab a guy – a human guy – as he arrives at front of the building. Treat him as a prisoner and bring him up here. We’re rescuing him, but he may not see it that way. And be careful – he’s a slippery character.”

Marine Spinks was happy to be doing something more active at last.

“I’ll go fetch him now. Leave it to me.”

Ten minutes later, Marine Spinks watched as Triggs approached the building. The guy was an absolute mess, dishevelled, unshaven, and unmistakably in need of a good meal or two. He’d just passed the door of the building, when he felt a rifle nozzle being pressed against his back. Ordinarily he would have put up some resistance, but he was too tired and too demoralized to do anything other than to give in to whoever was behind him. A voice behind him spoke sharply.

“You Triggs?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“Marine Jeremy Spinks, 1st Battalion, 10th United States Marine Corps. And you, my friend, are under arrest. What’s your name, fella?”

“Daniel Trigger Esquire, at your service. Under arrest? Why? What’ve I done?”

“Probably plenty. But all I know is that I have orders to take you upstairs.”

Triggs couldn’t be bothered to resist.

“Well alright then. I have nothing better to do this fine night.”

“Put your hands behind your back.”

“Now, I’m afraid I can’t do you that favour.”

“It’s not a favour, it’s an order.”

“Well, I can’t follow that order, Marine Spinks, on account of I only got one hand. Indeed, I only have one arm as it happens.”

Spinks looked at Triggs’s jacket sleeve. His left arm was certainly hanging strangely, and there was no hand visible. Just to be certain, he felt the sleeve. It was indeed empty, making the Marine’s handcuffs irrelevant. He prodded his prisoner with his rifle.

“I hope you’re feeling fit ‘cos we have thirty-three flights of stairs to climb. But I’m sure they’ll give you some water when we get to the top.”

“No elevator?”

“No power.”

As they started to climb the stairs, Triggs all the time with the rifle pointing at his back, the prisoner weighed up his chances of escape. Maybe he could have overpowered his captor if he’d had two good arms, but with one arm? This was a trained combat Marine walking up the steps behind him. A Marine with a gun.

Approaching the sixteenth floor Spinks allowed Triggs a few minutes rest. The man was clearly not in the best of condition, and he didn’t want to kill him unless it was absolutely necessary. Spinks stayed on his feet, covering Triggs with his rifle, while his captive sat down on a step for a couple of minutes. He gestured to Triggs’s lifeless sleeve with his rifle.

“So. Your arm. How did you lose it? Or have you always only had one arm?”

“Nope. Was born with two. Always had two. Till a couple of days ago.”

“So what happened?”

“Ran into some of them there cavemen. They got the jump on us. Me, my pal, and my boy, Shaun.”

Triggs suddenly stopped his story, as he remembered watching his son die before his very eyes. He wiped a solitary tear away from his eye with his good hand.

“One of them there Captain Cavemen grabbed hold of my arm and ripped it clean off. I don’t know how I managed it, but I ran as fast as I could, only lookin’ back once to see the guy standing there lookin’ my severed arm up an’ down. Looked like he was fixin’ to eat it.”

“But you survived.”

“Clearly did. I ran an’ ran until I felt I’d given them the slip. Then I made me a fire and cauter-, cauter-“

“Cauterized.”

“That’s the word. I cauterized it. Did a mighty fine job too. Still smells a bit of burning flesh though. You can smell the stump if you like.”

The Marine refused the kind offer and the two carried on climbing the staircase.

Eventually they arrived at the thirty-third floor and Spinks pushed his captive through the exit door and to the right towards the entrance lobby. Everybody was awake and waiting to see who the Marine had brought back with him. Triggs shuffled forward, recognising some faces.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t the Brit, Captain Caveman, them two Amish kids, and the dark lady. Where’s your folks, Amish kids?”

Samuel felt the hackles go up on his spine.

“They’re dead.”

Triggs actually seemed sorry to hear the news.

“Well, I’m saddened to hear that news. I really mean that. Me and my guys had no intention of killing anyone. We just wanted a li’l fun. Y’know, a li’l bit of fun.”

Miriam gritted her teeth. Maybe she should have left him to die. Jason stepped forward.

“The only reason you’re here is to add to our numbers if we have to fight.”

Triggs moved his shoulder to allow his sleeve to flap freely.

“Well, Mister Britboy, I’ll do my best but I’m a l’il bit hindered nowadays.”

Miriam walked up to Triggs and looked him straight in the eyes.

“And if you so much as breathe wrong – I’ll fucking kill you myself, you sick motherfucker. You’re only here on my fucking say-so. Remember that.”

A group of Argon warriors had approached 1812 North Moore Street under cover of darkness, from the west, from North Fort Meyer Drive. It was only a small group, ten warriors had been deemed sufficient to overcome these human stragglers. They’d swum across the river unseen and made a long detour to avoid detection by their prey.

They all knew of the deaths of their colleagues at the Key Bridge Hotel, and the humans would pay dearly for their fallen comrades, especially the three traitors who had abandoned the cause and sided with the humans. Enak, Eled, and Siroll would be taken back to the main group at the bridge and would suffer ceremonial rape, followed by ritual skinning while still alive. A message had to be sent that nobody betrays their Argon roots. The humans had placed various items of furniture on the staircases to slow down the advance of any attack, but they were futile attempts at defence. These warriors were the elite, the Imperial Bodyguard, and negotiated such flimsy obstacles without a sound, checking floor by floor, until they heard voices the other side of the door to floor thirty-three.

The humans were expecting some kind of attack, but thought that they would at least have some kind of warning of an impending assault. They’d been watching the Argons gathered at the far side of the bridge and had seen nothing to suggest that an attack was imminent.

Once the Argons burst through the doors, they were met with a barrage of flying computer monitors and desktop PCs, which they swatted away like children swatting away a fly. An almighty roar bellowed from the throats of the attackers as they launched themselves at the humans.

Gunfire filled the room as the defenders tried desperately to see off the Argon assault. The Argon commander barked orders at his men, catching a Marine’s neck in a vice-like death grip and twisted the soldier’s head with the other, the crack of bones easily heard interspersed with bullets spewing forth from his falling automatic rifle, ricocheting around the room for a few seconds, and miraculously avoiding his co-defenders.