Robison Wells - Blackout

He’d spent the rest of his time moving from tent to tent, trying to remember the name of each girl in case he ran into her again. To make it easier on himself he’d used the same fourth-grade story each time, but there were a hundred little lies—“Oh, you went to Hawthorne Elementary?” “Yeah, I totally remember that Christmas party with the Hawaiian theme,” “Mrs. Staheli was the worst!” Alec could be caught in any of those lies, or even caught stumbling over the names: Emily, Heather, Jenny, Kara, Aubrey . . . so many of them. He was an expert at creating fictional memories, not retaining real ones.

The line moved slowly forward, but he still couldn’t see what was going on ahead of him.

He’d have to rejoin a group—a new group, since Laura and Dan were as good as dead. They were dead to him, anyway. Traitors. They’d abandoned him.

He wondered, for the first time in a long time, what had happened to the Glen Canyon Dam. It had to have been a total loss. Probably not the loss of life he’d hoped for, but definitely destructive to the power supply. He wondered how Hoover Dam had fared, downstream.

He also wondered, not for the first time, how many of his teams were still in action. In a way, Alec’s release from the quarantine today made him nervous. Did that mean the tide had turned? Had the teams been captured? Had the attacks slowed? The little news he’d been able to read on the smartphone seemed to indicate that everything was still moving according to plan. The attacks weren’t as focused as he’d prefer, but that’s because he was here and not giving orders. In that event, all teams knew they should look for targets of opportunity. Even if they were only burning down an apartment building, or knocking over power lines, they still could do major damage.

The line moved slowly forward, and after another fifteen minutes of dry desert wind, he got to the table by the door. A soldier was seated, flanked by two more. Two guard towers looked on, thirty yards to each side.

“Put your hand on the rectangle,” the man said, his voice monotone and dull.

Alec placed his left hand—the one that wasn’t broken—on the mark, and the man at the table inspected Alec’s wristband.

He consulted his paperwork, and compared his photo to Alec’s face. Then he rattled off a memorized speech without bothering to make eye contact.

“Your test results show no manifestations of the Erebus virus. The US Army, your government, and the people of the United States thank you for your patience with this quarantine process. While we know you were severely inconvenienced, we hope you understand it was for your safety and the safety of your fellow Americans.”

He snipped the bracelet off Alec’s wrist with a pair of shears, and then replaced it with another—nearly identical, but with a barcode and the word “HEALTHY” printed in capital letters.

“You must wear this bracelet at all times,” he continued, cinching it tightly onto Alec’s arm. “If it is ever removed, you will be returned to a quarantine center and retested for the virus. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Alec said with a nod.

“I see you’re heading to Denver?”

“Yes.”

“The bus outside will take you to the Salt Lake transfer station.”

And with that, one of the soldiers opened the steel-framed door and let Alec outside the fence. He was on his way to Salt Lake, and from there he’d find a team. It was time to start things moving again.

THIS IS IT, JACK THOUGHT. The final test . To prove if Jack could properly track someone in the real world.

The real world. Real bad guys. Real weapons.

Jack listened as the captain on the far side of the hangar ruffled through papers with the warrant officer.

A door opened, and, to Jack’s surprise, Aubrey entered. A soldier pointed her to the folding chairs where Jack was sitting.

What did she have to do with Jack’s test?

“She’s going to be trouble,” the captain said, his voice hushed, apparently forgetting how well Jack could hear.

“We knew that going in,” the warrant officer said. “We caught her trying to break into a military facility, for crying out loud.”

“Her psych exam showed that she could be loyal.”

“She’s a loose cannon. The best we can do is keep her pointed in the right direction.”

The captain sighed and leaned on the table. “You think it’s worth it, having these Lambdas?”

“Not my call.”

“I asked what you think.”

“I think they might save a few of our guys. And we just might get a couple of cheerleaders and the president of the chess club killed in the process. I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

Nothing else was said. The men flipped through papers. The warrant officer unfolded a map.

“Hey, Jack,” Aubrey said as she reached him. She grinned at the sight of him. Even in olive drab she looked good.

“Hey. What are you here for?”

“My ‘final test.’ How about you?”

“Same.”

She nodded. “They said it’d be real-world training this time. Whatever that means.”

Aubrey looked out at the open hangar door and at the helicopters just outside. Jack wished that he could hear her thoughts. The best he could do was listen to her breathing and the calm, steady sound of her heart.

Jack knew his heartbeat wasn’t nearly so slow.

He wondered where they were going. The captain had said they were going into enemy territory, and it frightened Jack to think what that meant. Had an entire city been overrun? Was there a rebellion? They’d talked about that many times in training—that if they didn’t get the terrorist attacks under control they’d be facing an uprising from the people. Citizens can only live so long in fear before they stop trusting their protectors.

Five Green Berets entered the room, and the captain pointed them toward Jack and Aubrey. He gathered his papers and followed.

“I’m Captain Dane Rowley,” he said, looking at Jack, then Aubrey. “My men have already been briefed, and they have their maps and timetables. But for your benefit, here’s the overview. A week ago, West High School in Salt Lake City was hit in a terrorist attack. Fortunately, it was at night, and there were no casualties—”

He seemed to say that just for Jack and Aubrey’s benefit. Jack had heard of plenty of other schools being attacked; learning there weren’t casualties here didn’t do anything to calm his nerves.

“Salt Lake hasn’t been hit as hard as some cities, but no resources have been allocated to clean up yet. This school has turned into kind of a haven for the homeless, and there are rumors of a monster living in the basement.”

“A monster?” Jack said, with a small laugh that, he hoped, hid his nerves.

“Well, ‘demon’ is the term that keeps getting thrown around. The West High Demon. Obviously, this is a Lambda.”

“A terrorist?” Aubrey asked.

“Probably not,” he said. “If it was a member of one of these terrorist cells, it would be leaving to make attacks. According to our reports, it hasn’t moved for five days.

“Parsons,” he continued, pointing to Aubrey. “Your mission is to go dark, enter the school, and find this demon.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of perfume, which he tossed to Aubrey. “Flowerbomb.” He grinned. “I thought the name was appropriate.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Spray yourself,” he said simply. “Jack here can track you by your scent.”

Jack exchanged a look with Aubrey. “Aren’t you going to be watching her, too?” He was a guy with a really good nose, not a Green Beret. He didn’t know what “demon” Aubrey was about to face, but he didn’t want the responsibility solely on his shoulders. There was so much that he couldn’t do.