James Knapp - Element Zero

“Where’s Deatherage?” I asked.

“We can’t find him,” she said.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?”

“Security logs show he used his badge at the entrance,” Chen said, “but no one’s seen him.”

“Chen, this is insane,” the older man said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Put her down,” Chen said. The man lowered the unconscious woman to the floor.

“She’s not breathing,” he said.

“The neurotoxin is not lethal,” I said. I opened the bag and began to get dressed. The clothes were plain and a reasonable fit. I thought they might have belonged to Dulari.

“Why’d you dose her?” Chen asked me.

“She’s one of them. She was attempting to influence you.”

He nodded.

“Wait. Stop,” the black man said. He looked past Ang and Dulari at me. “Where did you come from?”

“Just stay here,” I said. “Stay here and don’t make trouble.”

“I know you’re one of ours,” he continued. “I also know that one bayonet is standard for the sevens, not two. Those injectors aren’t standard either. Where did you come from?”

“Listen to me: stay in here, and don’t make trouble.”

“Do as she says,” Chen said. The man stared at the pistol.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. “What is this all about?”

As he spoke, what might have been understanding dawned on the second man’s face. I saw his mouth part.

“You’re one of Samuel’s,” he said.

Before I could answer him, I saw an image of Heinlein’s satellite, the defense system that was known as The Eye, flicker onto the display in front of me. As I watched, its nodes were all called out and scanned. One by one, they began to go inactive. I turned back to Dulari.

“The virus,” I said. “It’s—”

“I know.”

Someone shouted from down the hallway outside, where I heard many footsteps tromping closer. The last of the nodes on my display went dark. The Eye had gone inactive. The tarmac surrounding Heinlein Industries was no longer protected.

“Someone’s taken control of the defense satellite!” a voice shouted. “We’re wide open; it’s some kind of attack!”

“Dulari, what is this?” She didn’t answer, and looked away.

“Chen …what have you done?” the black man asked. “What the hell have you two done?”

“Shaddrah, get them out of here,” Chen said.

The men stared as Dulari drew a pistol. She motioned toward the door.

Just then, it opened and another man stuck his head in. His eyes were wide.

“Guys, we have multiple vehicles approaching the complex,” he said. “We need to …”

He saw the guns and trailed off.

“What is going on out there?” the older man asked him.

“Sir, we have confirmation on a wide-scale broadcast of a Huma activation sequence.”

“An activation sequence? From where?”

“It looks like it might have been sourced from the Stillwell compound. Someone with high security clearance snuck in a stealth program that bounced it off a communications satellite maybe twenty minutes ago.”

“What?”

“It gets worse—someone’s inside our system, as well. Campus security has been totally compromised. We’re completely unprotected.”

“He did it,” the black man whispered. “That madman really did it.”

“Shaddrah, get them out of here,” Chen said.

“You heard him,” Dulari said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Dulari, I said over a private connection. Why are vehicles approaching? Is he coming here?

I’m sorry, Faye. I thought you knew.

Knew what?

She looked back and met my eye before she closed the door behind them.

Chen stood over the woman on the floor and watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Greta Creigh,” he said.

“Do you know her?”

“I do, yes,” he said. “I thought I did. You’re sure about what you saw? She’s one of them?”

“Yes.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“Yes.”

He aimed the pistol and fired. The shot slammed through the lab as the bullet blew out the top of the woman’s head in a mess of blood, gristle, and hair.

He stared at the results for a moment, and then, without changing his expression, he fired again.

Initialize node 23948. Inception time 21720202091103.

Current version: 010000064013C.

Current instruction set(s) pending.

Outstanding message. Urgent. Please respond.

The words flickered in the dark when I came to. The ground was hard and cold under me, and I smelled blood. My dead hand tingled. It wasn’t supposed to do that anymore.

Urgent. Please respond.

I opened my eyes. I was facing a concrete wall with a bloodstain on it. There was a big splatter on the floor under that, with a broken tooth in it. Yavlinski was gone.

Urgent. Please—

I pulled up the message. It was from Singh.

Fawkes pulled the trigger. Call in. I sent a confirmation back, then tried to get Wachalowski on the JZI, but there was some kind of hold on his line.

Great. My muscles were stiff, but I could move. Nothing felt broken when I sat up. My brass knuckles were on the floor a few feet away. I grabbed them and stuffed them in my jacket pocket with the other set.

My hand still had pins and needles. I flexed the gray fingers and they worked, but they were stiff and slow. The static in my head had turned to a steady whine.

If my clock was right, I’d been down over an hour. I checked my pockets, and the bag of Zombie was still there. The brass knuckles, the gun …it was all still there. The room was empty.

I got up and limped through the door, back the way I’d come in. My bike was still there, the alarm panel red. Someone tried to heist it but couldn’t get it started. They must have left in a hurry.

I walked it back toward the metal door that led outside. When I pushed it open I saw light but no people. The lot was empty. Wind blew snow across the blacktop, and a cardboard cup with blood spatter on it rolled past.

Wachalowski, pick up.

I ran diags and they came up clean, mostly. My body checked out okay, but my head hurt like a bitch. The ringing in my ears wouldn’t let up.

I looked around. Cinders glowed in the metal drums, but the people were all gone. I made my way over to one of the tarps they’d set up and pulled open the flap. Someone’s shit was in there, but he was long gone. I let the tarp go and the wind blew it shut. I listened, but didn’t hear any voices—just wind and the flap of plastic.

I straddled the bike and kick-started it. The engine turned over, and I headed back the way I’d come in. I didn’t pass anyone in the alleys. When I got to the main road, it was full of cars, but they all just sat there. None of them moved.

Nico, pick up, goddamn it.

Up ahead, a store window had been smashed, and the sidewalk was covered in broken glass. In the street to my left, a car’s doors hung open and the windshield was caved in. Shell casings lay on the sidewalk next to it, and the snowbank was stained red.

I looked down the street. A long strip of bloody cloth blew in the wind, snagged on a car antenna. A lot of car doors were open. I saw broken glass and trash where people had dropped their shit and run. There were footprints in the snow, between cars and up and down the sidewalks. A few car lengths down, a black armored truck had jumped the curb and crashed into the side of a building. Way down the street, a trail of smoke rose from somewhere I couldn’t see. In the street, between the cars, a few guys stood with their backs to me. They didn’t move as the wind whipped through their coats.