Sanctuary (14 page)

“In other words, brother, yer brain tricked yer body. You controlled the ability.”

“You two are the worst friends ever.”

But he was right. I had launched myself into the virus’s clutches simply out of fear. There was no real danger. It was a mental ruse, a device I could potentially use in the future. The rest of Croc’s drills were simple, now that I was engorged with adrenalin. My muscles strained against hard skin; my emotions strained against will-power; the impossible became elementary. I was punchy and felt like fighting them both at the same time, or juggling blocks of concrete, or taking Compton by storm.

“Focus, Outlaw,” Croc warned, noticing my impulses were becoming harder to control. “This is how Infected die. The virus is a rager. You give it control and yer toast. Up a creek.
Use
the energy, mate. Don’t let it use you.”

Controlling the storm inside was like flexing a muscle. It was exhausting and after an hour I was mentally and physically drained.

“Okay,” I panted, laying on my back and staring upwards past the light at the nonexistent stars. “Done for the night. I’ve got another appointment.”

“With who?” asked Samantha, casually, from her perch.

“With Katie.”

“Liar.”

“Say’s who?”

“Puck. He told me you’re going to meet that FBI agent.”

“Ugh. Freaking Puck,” I growled. “All up in my business. He still monitors all of my phones?”

“Always.”

Croc noted, “Nosey bloke.”

Samantha said, “I’m going with you.”

“I told Captain FBI I was coming alone.”

“Don’t care. I’m coming. I can stay out of sight.”

We scaled the chain fence and went to our vehicles. I pulled on the new black vest I’d picked up from Lee’s backyard a week ago.

Croc said, “You trust this FBI fella?”

“A little. But I trust his girlfriend completely.”

“Right-o. I’m gone surfing.” He waved and roared away in his truck. Samantha sat in hers, lost in thought, as I camouflaged my bike and my helmet with red decals. I also altered the license plate. The Los Angeles night was quiet and thick around us.

“Puck told me about the letter. From the Chemist,” she said.

“He tells you everything.” I was reapplying a few misplaced stickers. Just like all crimefighters do.

“He came to the same conclusion I have.”

“Which is?”

“This battle is not between the Chemist and Carter. It’s between the Chemist and you.”

“I bet Carter disagrees with you,” I observed dryly.

“And we’re not sure we trust Carter anymore.”

“Did you ever? And does it even matter if you trust him?”

“Chase!” she snapped. “You’re not listening. Carter is a way of life. Our leader. For years. Decades. And suddenly…we’re questioning our allegiances. Our everything. This is not a small detail.”

“I don’t understand the significance.”

“Our existence has always been about secrecy. Most Infected naturally want it that way, but also because Carter enforces the secrecy. We’ve lived in shadows for centuries, like scared animals, and the only unifying element was Carter. Do you know how much good we could have done over the years? But we didn’t. We laid low, did Carter’s bidding for money, and died spectacular deaths. Now…right and wrong have entered our world. Good and evil. Choices. Morality. And it’s all because something inside of you resists the reptilian tendencies of the virus, and we see what we
could
be. Is any of this making sense to you?”

I stood and brushed the gravel off my pants. “I get it. At least, a little. But I’m just a kid trying to graduate high school. I realize I was born strange. I’m slowly coming to accept that. But I don’t live in your world. At least not yet.”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “You know how hard these changes are for you to accept? That’s how we feel too. Suddenly, I don’t think I can go back to my cold, empty house in Germany.”

“Cool. Stay with us.”

“I wish,” she growled, “that I could make you realize how unlike an Infected you sound. No one says stuff like that. Especially not Carter. Which is one reason I think this fight is more about you, and less about him.”

“I’m not crazy about Carter either. But I wouldn’t make him an enemy yet, if I were you. The world is full of them already.”

“He’s not an enemy. I’m just reevaluating…blind loyalty.”

I pulled on the black mask that covered my nose and mouth, and then I tied the red bandana around my forehead, Rambo style. “An excellent idea. But don’t be blindly loyal to me, either. I’m not the leader.”

She scrutinized me with pursed lips for a moment and said, “A hurricane is a hurricane. Whether he admits it or not.”

I groaned, yanked on the helmet, and said, “Let’s go.”

Months had passed since I’d been on top of Natalie North’s building. I decided to try a new route to the roof: Jumping.

“Gear, you in place?” I asked through the bluetooth earpiece. I was standing in the murky shadows of an alley, watching midnight cars roll by.

“Roger.”

“Puck?”

“PuckDaddy is always ready, dummy.”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath and let it out through my mask in a sharp blast. “Here we go.” Gonna jump up this wall. No big deal. I’ve done stuff like this before. Easy peasy. Won’t even think about it. Just go straight up.

I ran. Fast.

I jumped.

And I hit the bricks hard, barely five feet off the ground. I dropped, stumbled and fell onto my backside.

“Oooowwwww,” I whimpered. “That hurt.”

A noise crackled in my earpiece. For a moment I assumed the impact had broken it, but then I recognized the noise: laughter.

“Oooooooowww,” I said again, holding my shoulder and my head with different hands. I laid down in the filthy alley. “It’s not funny.”

“What? What happened? Tell PuckDaddy.”

“He…he hit the…he hit the…” Samantha tried to articulate the words between hysterics. She sounded like she was crying.

“I jumped into the wall, Puck. Can you zap Gear with a satellite laser or something?”

“He hit…so hard…so hard!…ohmygosh…ohmygosh…”

“I wish I hadn’t taken my helmet off. My head is ringing.”

Gear laughed so loudly I heard her voice without the aid of the earpiece. She was behind me on a small tower a couple blocks away, but the sound wafted on the air currents over city noises. I stood up, shook off the cobwebs and glared at my enemy, the wall. The accumulation of embarrassment and anger was all the motivation I needed. I charged the wall again only this time I
Leapt
three stories high, snatched a purchase on the wall, and flung myself upwards. I sailed over the building’s decorative soffit and landed on the green astroturf.

Natalie North and Isaac Anderson both started in surprise. As per my request, Natalie had turned off all the rooftop lights but enough ambient illumination from the city reached us to make out details. They were an attractive couple; she was one of the prettiest and wealthiest actresses in Hollywood and he looked like Captain America.

“That’s quite an entrance,” he noted. Due to my shocking and dramatic and theatrical and sudden and heroic and super cool arrival, his hand automatically went for the pistol at his belt, but he didn’t draw it.

“Don’t touch anything, Outlaw,” Natalie said. “I know him. He’s going to fingerprint everything later.”

Special Agent Isaac Anderson didn’t budge or blink.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I said, keeping my voice to a low growl.

“Oooooh, I’ve missed that voice.”

Isaac said, “I appreciate you arranging it. I think perhaps we can be of mutual assistance.”

I glanced around. “You’re not videotaping?”

“No. You have my word.”

“No audio?”

“No. She made me promise.”

“Your girlfriend is persuasive.”

“Yes I am.”

His hand finally released the butt of his gun, and he said, “I’d be a fool not to comply. For many reasons. Should we sit down?”

“No. Keep your distance,” I said. “My companions might be jumpy. They don’t trust you.”

“You brought someone here?” he asked in surprise. He scanned the area, but Samantha could have been in a million windows or on hundreds of rooftops.

“Not here. But we’re being watched.”

“By who?”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s talk business.”

He ran his hands through his hair, his thick brown Captain America hair, and he said, “I have so many questions. I don’t know where to begin.”

“Tell me what you
do
know. I’ll fill in some gaps. I think you and I are after the same thing, anyway.”

“This is so cool,” Natalie said. She smiled a ten-million-dollar smile and sat on the turf between us.

“Okay. Okay, yeah sure. Here’s what I know. There are people in Los Angeles that seem to have enhanced bodies. According to an audio file we have of you, these enhancements are due to an illness that is often fatal. We’ve termed you guys Hyper Terrorists, or Hypers for short. One of the terrorists is named the Chemist and he’s holding a large portion of Los Angeles hostage for unknown reasons. And finally, there appears to be division among the Hyper Terrorists. You guys aren’t getting along.”

“That’s correct. Your overall impressions are accurate.”

He nodded. “Here are a couple of things we don’t know, but have assumed. First, the criminal computer hacker known as PuckDaddy is one of your accomplices. Right? That’s how you can guarantee most, if not all, of any video taken tonight from a nearby window will be deleted.”

My earpiece crackled. Puck said, “Tell him if he asks about me again I’m going to empty his bank account.”

I hesitated… “Next question.”

“Okay. Fair enough. The Los Angeles Sniper was terrorizing Los Angeles earlier this year and then abruptly stopped when Compton was seized. The Sniper, he’s one of you guys, right?”

My earpiece crackled. Again. Samantha said, “Tell FBI that if he calls me a
guy
again I’m going to shoot him in the foot.”

I hesitated. Again. “Um. Next question.”

He sighed. “I have more questions than answers. Such as…how many of you are there? And, for lack of better phrasing, why aren’t you all getting along? And how long have you been around? And what do I call you and your group?”

“What has Natalie told you?”

“Nothing. She’s impossibly loyal to you.”

I held out my fist. Natalie gave me a fist-bump and looked extremely pleased with herself.

I growled, “I’m not getting into details. But I’ll clear up a few things, so you’ll trust me. This information is for your ears only. Understood?”

“You can trust me.”

In my ear, Puck said under his breath, “This is craaaaaaaaaazy. Can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“There aren’t many of us. In fact, I don’t know the exact number. We call ourselves Infected, but it’s just a meaningless term. We’re all sick, and few of us get along.”

“Do you mind if I write this down? You said there aren’t many. Give me a ballpark. A dozen Infected?” he asked. “A hundred?”

“Twenty? Maybe? Maybe less. There was a sudden burst of new Infected recently, and most of them sided with the Chemist.”

“The Chemist.” His face hardened as he scribbled notes with a pen. “You two aren’t friends, I take it?”

“No. The Chemist is an Infected madman. We’re trying to stop him.”

“Who is
we
?”

“Me and a handful of other Infected. I’m afraid he has us outnumbered.”

“He hasn’t announced his intentions with Compton. Could you shed some light on that?”

“I can’t. I wish I could. But the Chemist is the reason I’m here tonight.”

“How so?”

“Yesterday he sent me a message. He informed me he’s going to destroy Los Angeles soon.”

Isaac paused, staring hard, before putting his notepad away. He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his head. He began pacing and staring off into the distance. Every few steps his eyes would flick towards Natalie, his girlfriend who happened to live downtown. He looked tired. “How soon?”

“Didn’t say.”

“How would he destroy an entire city?”

“Didn’t say. I thought you might have intel that could help.”

“We have informants in Compton. Constant surveillance from a thousand angles. Thermal imaging, night-vision, long-distance microphones, satellite feeds, drones, data taps…everything. We still don’t know much about the guy. Not even a clear photograph. But there’s no way he has an atomic bomb. We’d know. Leveling a city isn’t easy.”

“Your military is planning on going into Compton again?”

“Yes. We’ll have to speed it up,” he said.

“What’s to keep you from getting wiped out?”

“Sheer force. We tried tactical incisions previously. This time we’ll launch a full-scale Normandy-style invasion. Twenty insertion points. Aerial support. Paratroopers. Even the kitchen sink.”

“Massive collateral damage,” I said.

“That’s why we haven’t launched yet.”

“I have a suggestion.”

He spread his arms wide. “I’m all ears. Truly. Anything you say, I can pass along.”

Natalie said, “This is amazing. When this comes out as a movie, I’m going to play myself.”

“Fight monsters
with
monsters. Send in your own.”

“Huh,” he half laughed as he pulled out his notepad again. “That’s funny. Guy at a meeting said the same thing the other day. Almost word for word. One of the LAPD.”

Samantha said into my ear, “He’s talking about Richard.”

I know. Duh. And stop calling him Richard.

Isaac said, “The big-swingers didn’t love the idea of sending in civilians.”

“We go in all the time anyway. The perimeter security is child’s-play for Infected.”

“Really?

“And the Chemist leaves whenever he wants. I could show you recent photos of him outside of Compton.

“Wow. Well…okay, jeez. Good to know.”

“Infected can dodge bullets. Or block them. Some of us can influence our enemy. Control their actions. Some of us are more accurate than highly trained military snipers. We’re faster than sprinters. Each of the Chemist’s Infected will kill dozens of your soldiers. Maybe more. And we don’t know how many they have.”