Project Northwoods (80 page)

“No! She’s okay!” she said, noticing that it was difficult to speak between the gasps for air. Her face was hot and wet, a fact she only noticed when Steven grabbed the back of her head and pressed it into his chest.

“Morgan…”

She started to hit him, trying to loosen his grip, but the attack only made him hold tighter. “Let me go!”

His voice carried a tremble with it: “Morgan, she’s gone.”

She stopped fighting him, latching her arms around his body and squeezed. It was an anchor, a rock, something to bind her to here and now even when all she wanted to do was fade away. “She didn’t deserve this…”

“I know.”

“It’s all my fault… all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. This has nothing to do with you.” Steven was actually fairly sure this had everything to do with her, but he wasn’t about to agree with her anytime soon.

Morgan shoved herself away from him, keeping her arm stiff on his chest as she looked in his eyes. “We have to find out who did this.” Tears still streamed from her eyes, but she was more assertive now. Angry.

“How?” he asked. “The shooter is long gone. And, unless you have some kind of Bestowed forensic ability, there’s nothing we can do.”

She glared at him for a moment, then pushed herself completely off. Standing was difficult, gravity having pulled most of her blood away from her head. She fought to keep her balance, to make it appear like she was normal when, in actuality, she didn’t care if she stayed upright or not. She sniffed, centering herself. “We have to do something with her.”

“You can’t be serious.” Steven stood up, wobbling slightly before he braced himself against the wall. “What do you suggest?”

Morgan looked at him emotionlessly. Steven shifted uncomfortably at her suddenly glacial temperament, no doubt unsettled by the fact that her dead mother was just behind her. “She wanted to be cremated.”

He smiled inadvertently, coughing out a laugh. “So we’re just going to march her to the crematorium, is that it?”

She shook her head impatiently. “You don’t understand.” Morgan pointed a finger at the lifeless body. “That is my mother. I can’t just… leave her there.”

“You can.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. She struggled against it as he said, “And you will.”

A knock at the door cut the conversation short. The two froze in place, staring at the entryway. Neither moved, as though it may give away that the apartment was occupied in a very incriminating way. A rapid series of knocks followed, and then a feminine voice called out: “Wendy Severson, I have come on behalf of the Heroes’ Guild to escort you to your hearing.” A pause. “Failure to comply will result in hostile action.”

“Shit,” was all that Steven could mutter.

Morgan bolted from the spot, freeing her wrist from his grip and snaking it to hold onto his hand. She dragged him into the hallway, hand outward to grab the closet door handle just as a third series of knocks rapped through the apartment. Before he could protest, they were sequestered inside, quietly nestled amongst the coats.

The startling noise of the door being violently kicked open made both of them jump. Although muffled, the woman’s footsteps thumped against the floor. “Neither the Heroes’ Guild nor SERAPHIM take responsibility for damages incurred due to your unwillingness to comply.” The footsteps stopped suddenly, then came back much more rapidly than before. A pause. “This is Thanatos calling in to report a fatality, Wendy ‘Electronica’ Severson. Single gunshot wound to the head.”

More footsteps from the hallway. “Your orders, ma’am?” came a masculine voice.

“Have Peebles secure the entrance. You back me up on my sweep.” Thanatos was strictly business, as though death was just a matter of course in the line of duty. From the report of the fatality to the too-professional orders, she had all the emotionality of finding a dead goldfish. Then, with a lack of concern which sent chills down the spines of the two in the closet, Thanatos threw in, “Judging by the foodstuffs on the floor, someone besides the killer knows about this.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shifted his weight. “Peebles, secure the entryway.”

“Yes, sir,” responded a much quieter voice.

The footsteps faded, and now only their panicked breathing accompanied them. It quickly became the unspoken conclusion that they needed to get out of the closet. “Okay, I’ll duck into the hallway and distract that Peebles guy…” Steven began whispering.

“I need to get to the bathroom,” Morgan interrupted.

Steven looked at her for few moments, confused by the request. “This isn’t really the time.”

“There’s water in the pipes,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I should be able to get at it.” Immediately, her hand was gently pushing the door open. She looked down the hallway before casting a glance back at him. “You coming?” Steven nodded, although she knew he didn’t really have a choice. Morgan was partially hunched over as she exited the closet, moving into the kitchen.

The kitchen had two entrances, one which she had just blundered through and the other leading into a short hallway. At one end was the bathroom, the other route heading toward the living room. Steven bolted after Morgan, narrowly avoiding slamming into her as he did so. She had pulled up short, her eyes fixed on a wall-mounted, circular mirror visible in the living room from their position. The reflection showed a white-body-armored man waiting at one of the bedroom doors, his gaze sweeping the apartment. Without a sound, Morgan’s head whipped around to Steven. “When he looks away, get into the bathroom, got it?”

He nodded earnestly. They watched, tensing, as the man’s head arced slowly back to the bedroom. They lurched toward their target when they forced themselves to scramble to a stop: another body-armor clad figure was visible in the mirror. The two began to confer with each other about something. “What are they waiting for?” Steven asked in a barely audible whisper.

“Fuck it,” Morgan said, then charged straight for the bathroom, giving Steven barely any time to consider whether or not it was suicide.

The second she was visible, the two SERAPHIM dropped their conversation in shock, and the sight of Steven following her was enough to elicit a shouted, “Stop!” Steven was barely in the bathroom when he slammed the door shut. Morgan was already at the tub, turning on the water as he braced the door with his body. One of the heroes rammed into it, splintering the wood and knocking him onto the floor.

Morgan was pulling water from the spigot and forming it into an enlarging ball over the tub basin. She worked her hands like she was molding clay, probably helping her guide her ability, forming the water into a thick cylinder of whorling, angry liquid. With a flick of her wrist, she brought the aquatic cudgel forward and then downward, into the naked floor, splintering the wood.

Steven had only a moment to roll under the hammer being brought upward to stand beside Morgan before she brought it slamming downward again, ripping a small hole into the floor. Water still streamed from the tub’s spout, feeding the battering-ram material as it was brought up again for a third strike. The blow buckled the floor and made the gap large enough to slip through.

Another crash, and the door broke in two pieces, the top half sent flying into the vanity mirror and shattering it. Like a meteor, the Enforcer they assumed was Thanatos dove into the room with the shards of wood, landing gracefully before looking up at the two fugitives. The insignia on her shoulder would have betrayed her allegiance if she hadn’t announced it before. Wrapped around her neck was a grey scarf, an embroidered butterfly near a set of blades at one end of the fashion statement. Her helmet was the white-on-white color of her uniform, but far more garish in design, the only truly useful part of it being the visor shielding her eyes.

Morgan didn’t seem to be as interested in studying the SERAPHIM as Steven was. Morgan flicked her hands outward and the water cylinder disintegrated into a miniature wave, slamming Thanatos against the wall. “Go!” she shouted, sending Steven through the hole first. He slipped through, falling onto the slick floor of the bathroom below and collapsing in a heap. It wasn’t long before Morgan nearly landed on top of him, although she had the grace to not fall immediately. In an instant, her hand shot up and sealed the hole with water she manipulated into place. She looked down at Steven as he was trying to scramble to his feet. “Not bad for a late bloomer, eh?” Her voice was devoid of any joy.

He smiled, pulling himself up with the sink. “We’re not out of the woods yet.” Once upright, he lunged for the bathroom door, yanked it open, and he and Morgan were running through the rest of a random hero’s apartment. Stunned, the popcorn-eating occupant stared from his recliner as they ran through the living room toward the door.

“Sorry about the water damage!” Morgan shouted back as Steven hit the door to the hallway.

“That should totally be your quip,” Steven said with a smile as he wound his way through the corridors.

“I’d sound like a sociopathic plumber.”

“Never too late to switch your name, you know,” Steven said with a note of laughter in his voice.

The stairs leading to the lobby were the most packed they had seen in the apartment building, both of them having to shove their way through people just standing around. The lobby itself was large and ornate: an older, well-kept room done over with marble in an effort to keep up a front of affluence while downplaying the rather cramped apartments they offered. Whatever it was that the occupants were staring at, it was a lot more interesting than the two damp, stupidly dressed, and panicked runners forcing their way to the ground floor. Half-hearted ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s punctuated the dull murmur of speculation.

When they hit the floor of the lobby, they saw what was attracting such attention: a cadre of SERAPHIM were standing at the entrance, some with automatic rifles, others with their weapons slung around their backs. They were staring into the building, gesturing occasionally, and discussing amongst themselves.

“Alleyway exit?” Steven offered.

Morgan nodded as she looked out the front doors. “It’s gotta be worth a try.”

They turned to run but skidded to a stop when someone threw themselves off the stairs and landed in front of them. Thanatos grabbed the bladeless end of her scarf and unfurled it from her neck. From her kneeling position, she leapt into the air, spinning sideways in a barrel-roll. The scarf snaked outwards and swept around Morgan’s leg, then snapped rigid as Thanatos landed, the blades interlocking and yanking Morgan toward the SERAPHIM. The force pulled her downward and toward the other woman and, in a second, Morgan’s throat was firmly under the mercenary’s boot.

“Morgan!” Steven yelled. Thanatos’s attention snapped to him as he darted forward to punch her. His hand snapped forward, the woman in white moving a bit to the side as the fist sailed past, momentum carrying him to collide with her. She was a good six inches taller than him, a fact made less noticeable when her hand shot around his neck and she lifted him to her eye level.

“Burn,” Thanatos said simply and, as if on command, Steven started screaming. Morgan tried to cry out, but Thanatos’s boot cut off the sound. She watched as Steven tried to pry the fingers from his neck, only to pull away from the hero’s skin as though he had touched a hot stovetop. After a few increasingly slow attempts to extricate himself, his hands fell away and his screaming turned into pained whimpering. The woman regarded the goon before she dismissively threw him aside. Morgan could see him curl into the fetal position as one of Thanatos’s subordinates descended on him.

The sun was burning high as Zombress waited at the roof’s edge, watching the apartments Morgan and Steven had entered. It hadn’t taken her long to notice the tiny, almost invisible hole that had marked what she immediately guessed was the girl’s mother’s living room. She had considered launching herself across the street and smashing into the room, if only to give the little brats a lecture on letting adults do the heavy lifting in situations like these. But that desire was immediately stifled when she saw the white-armored trucks pull up in front of the building minutes after the other two had arrived. Part of her had warned her to run, leave the others to the mercy of the heroes, but Morgan was still important to this puzzle.

As such, she couldn’t just let her get captured. Maybe if she had told her what she had been up to, she wouldn’t have attempted something so blatantly stupid. Young adults did tend to be a foolish lot, so even with all the information Morgan still may have made this attempt, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

There were six SERAPHIM on the ground, waiting at the entrance. Three, one obviously the commander judging by the garish helmet she wore, had entered the building. It wasn’t a terribly even fight, but she didn’t really care. Only a few were armed, and those that weren’t probably would rely too heavily on their abilities. Powerful, no doubt, but not invulnerable.

Humanity?
the hollowness inside of her asked, in a way which imitated human speech but lacked any resemblance to it.