Toxic (11 page)

“In that case, it's better to stay together.”

Masters meditated on the implied suggestion. “Miami is probably infested. We'll need some type of transportation; we'll have to get together some supplies to get out of the city. We could find a nice quiet corner to relax for a while.”

“I imagine that we could take the risk.”

“Do you think that they'll come with us?” he asked, pointing at the sleeping bodies with a subtle motion of this chin.

“Bruce and Dew, yes. Alva, possibly. As for Hector, we know what he wants.”

“So, we're a group now, right? A nurse, a marine, a young guy who's wet behind the ears, an autistic boy and a show-biz druggy.”

“We're missing a lawyer and a priest to make a community.”

The joke stretched across the features of the colonel.

The beams of sun pierced and then chased away the fog before the end of the morning. They were following a trajectory parallel to the concrete coastline. Their view was getting clearer bit by bit when, lined up on the front starboard, they tried to make out signs of activity. Alva examined Miami's disfigured landscape, its façades and hotels in ruin. A tear beaded up on her cheek. Hector observed her for a moment and then went to folding up the mast into its compartment so that the boat’s silhouette would be lost in the waves and would allow for a rapid dive, if needed. He had even asked them to assemble their meager belongings inside.

Far to the south, they spotted silver reflections in the clouds. The sky belonged to the alien machines. They disappeared behind rows of decrepit buildings. The Colombian handed Masters his binoculars. “
¡Mira!
See for yourself.”

The colonel swept the beach from left to right, and then in reverse. Twice. His verdict was without appeal. “We can't land here.”

“Why?” Bruce inquired.

“Too many tourists.”

Elaine grimaced. Alva sighed with resignation.

“Do you mean that it's full of L-Ds?”

“Dozens are walking along the beachfront and around it. If we get off here, they’re going to be on us in less time that you can say uh-oh. We would be better off choosing a more quiet area.”

He gave the binoculars to the trafficker. “Without commanding you, or forcing you,” he added with a diplomatic tone.

“What do you propose?”

“Avoiding the south. The wisest option would be to go upwards along the coast and try to find a sport where we can safely put our feet on the ground.”

The Colombian made an annoyed face. This plan would take him even further from his country. He hesitated and brought the lenses to his eyes once again, as if to find a solution. There weren't any others.

“
Bueno
,” he declared finally, taking up his position once again.

In a minute, they had turned around.

Elaine crouched down at Dewei's side. The autistic boy seemed relaxed; satisfied, maybe, to remain on board or to drift northwards. Interpreting his strange expressions was an art that she hadn’t yet mastered. At the hospital, she had worked in the emergency room, where life or death decisions were taken in a second. It was all about reacting quickly, automatically, without worrying about the details.

The Asian had kept his bag, refusing to put it with his companions’ belongings. She had remarked that he kept his crayons and his notebook there. When he opened it to take them out, she spotted a rectangle covered with plastic.

“What's this?”

Dewei shook his head. She grabbed his forearm. “I'll never steal things that belong to you. Never. Do you understand?”

The boy's hand delved into the bag once again and took out the object in question. Elaine looked at it with a perplexed gaze. “A glass-terminal?”

These transparent computer tablets with shimmering colors didn't work anymore, like billions of similar devices – so pampered by their owners – which ended up fried by the aliens’ EMP. This one here was no exception. The screen remained inactive, as useful as a mere piece of glass. The invasion had at least shown people that they could do without these devices. Apparently, Dewei was finding it hard to get over this stage of withdrawal. When she asked to look at the glass-t, he clutched it to his chest. His gaze hardened subtly. Next, he swung back and forth, breathing heavily.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to take it away from you.”

Bruce had observed the scene. “I knew coders that loved their machines more than the people around them and even women...”

Elaine smiled at him, getting back up again. “I would have preferred it if he had been one of them. That would make communication easier.”

“He’s in his own world, then?”

“Something like that.”

“Maybe it's better than reality.”

Not wishing to let the subject draw on, Elaine excused herself and then re-joined the stern. Hector allowed them to be in the back area. That way, he justified, they could take shelter faster in the event of danger. He maintained the course towards the north, within visual distance of the coastline and without taking the blue sky out of his view. Their proximity to the coast made him nervous. Masters examined the beaches with the help of the binoculars. As for Alva, she remained seated on the railing.

“They're bumming around everywhere,” the colonel grumbled. “Except for the unpopulated areas, but those won't help us if we want to restock our supplies and look for vehicles.”

Elaine leaned up against the railing.

“The Chinese boy, he's sick, right? “For the first time, Hector was worried about the state of the health of one of the members of the group.

“A sickness without repercussions,” she retorted, stunned by this sudden attention and wishing to not expose Dewei.

The Colombian didn't insist. After all, Dew didn't cause any problems. He wasn't a threat. The tension remained palpable for a good part of the afternoon. Tired and rocked by the waves, Elaine fell asleep on the bench. The exclamation woke her up with a start.

“There! I think we can land.”

At once, Bruce and Alva pressed themselves against the guardrail.

“Where are we?” the latter asked.

The colonel lowered the binoculars and pointed to an area a little further north. “Cape Canaveral is a couple of kilometers away. Well, what’s left of it. The aliens attacked launch sites.”

“So, in front of us is Cocoa beach,” declared Alva, in an amused voice.

The artist had regained her liveliness.

“I came here often. There's a long pier further along the beach,” she added.

The gloominess left in exchange for sincere excitement. Elaine was afraid of leaving the safety on board. The land held mortal dangers and even if they were under the threat of drones at sea, these machines couldn't monitor everything. Hector showed a contained, lackluster joy.

“I need to restock supplies before leaving,” he specified.

Masters assured him that they would do him the favor in return. “We’re going to help you stock up your on board supplies. It's the least we can do. First of all, let's organize and determine what we need.”

The marine found himself in a situation he knew. Logistics and assignment of roles had made up a daily part of his officer duties. He divided the group in two. Alva, Bruce and Dew would concentrate on the boutiques on the pier and the oceanfront. With Elaine, who accepted to accompany him, they would go inwards and try to find a vehicle, gas and maybe even weapons.

They landed in the mid-afternoon, in the middle of the promenade on stilts which stretched out into the distance on top of the waves. Hector decided to stay on the boat. Masters got off first while the others were climbing down the rungs.

“We'll bring you what you need, and then you can go back home.”

The Colombian agreed and gave the colonel his 45, as a sign of good will.

The dock had suffered the effects of the weather and lack of maintenance. In spots, rotten wood panels filled with holes weren't at all reassuring. A thick green foam covered the cross beams, making them slippery. They had to move carefully, keeping their eyes on their feet with each step. Overall, the structure seemed more or less solid. On the far end, the bar formerly frequented by the tourists still existed. Alva decided to rest there. She opened up the blinds covered with bank notes.

“The bar is open,” the artist laughed.

Bruce and Masters sat down on the stools. The marine reminded them of the priorities: food, a vehicle, and weapons. Elaine stayed with Dew, who seemed more interested in the view off into the distance. After a few minutes rest, they headed towards the beach together. The golden strip stretched out infinitely to the north, just like to the south, for kilometers. The low buildings, typical of “cozy” seaside dwellings, were built in the middle of the costal vegetation which was now free to take up any space.

“No L-Ds?”

“I haven't spotted any,” Masters confirmed. “But that doesn't mean that there aren't any. So, you'll still have to be discreet. Don’t forget that noise attracts them.”

Bruce smiled.

“I know some great clothing stores in the area,” Alva said, excited. “Do we have a budget for that as well, boss?”

Elaine almost burst out in laughter, remarking the colonel’s clenched jaw. Dew handed her a piece of paper.
Not a good idea to leave the boat
.

Elaine understood how he felt, she explained to him, but Hector wanted to go back to his country. The boy shook his head, which she found to be strange right away. He seemed stressed, worried, most likely due to his future. She tried to reassure him by promising that they would find a safe haven, without aliens or the infected.

T
he abza'n Sarejt presented herself at his quarters at octi-mo, which was the equivalent of the late evening for humans, thought Jave. He left his mug of chlorophyll near the window. In the universal language, abza'n meant armor-wearer or the one who wears the armor – implying to the benefit of an outsider. The term corresponded exactly with the definition of a mercenary, but it also had the value of the rank of officer within the companies.

The female agreed to enter, but declined the offer to sit on the carved tree trunk which served as an armchair. The emissary retired into the neighboring room to put on a combat suit and came back shortly afterwards.

“Let’s go!”

Sarejt slightly bowed her neck, whose dark color indicated irritation or impatience.
Maybe both
, Jave chuckled, stepping into the agrav tube, out of which they entered into the mission preparation room. They integrated their PASs and did a systems check upon plugging them in. Then, they waited for a moment before climbing onto the platform.

With the Russian now infected, they had lost a well-informed source. Who knows what else he could have revealed? Jave remained persuaded, despite his lack of knowledge on the relations of this species, that he was concealing important information. By going back to the original source, he hoped to find workable clues.

To his great surprise, Naakrit had informed him that he wouldn't be joining this expedition. He had used the pretext – because that was what it was, a pretext – that he couldn't take the cold. For sure, the frozen lands of Siberia were the polar opposite of a reptilian’s idea of hospitable, but their armor adapted to the needs of its wearer, including in the middle of hostile terrain. Despite his body's lack of heat regulation, he wouldn't have suffered from ice delirium.

The fact that he justified himself was a mark of respect accorded to a Combinate representative. Jave asked himself what was troubling the Primark to the point of letting him move away from the general quarters. His closest lieutenant, Kjet, would be accompanying them and had surely received specific instructions from his superior. As for the Sybarian, she turned on a sort of repulsor field around her, which kept the mercenaries at bay. An attitude fitting for her officer's rank.

Of course, there had been that subtle exchange before Oleg's questioning. That was the reason for her presence on the team which also included a T-J pilot. The latter welcomed them onto the platform of the Dubai tower. The emissary stopped for a moment. He raised his head.

The opal river went from one horizon to another.

“So, that's what it looks like when seen from the inside?”

The night sky wasn't uninteresting; it just lacked that special touch. From the worlds of the Collective, located on the outside of the galaxy that the humans called the “Milky Way,” the panorama offered a singular view of almost the whole luminous vortex, of its spiral arms made up of strings of sparkling points. The fresco inspired the erudite and the covetous. Always. Earth was a marvel, a grain buried in the middle of a series of sparkles and halos. Among the billions of stars, other seeds were hidden.
How many mercenaries could brag of such luck or misfortune
? the emissary asked himself.

The flight, shorter than during their New York escapade, went according to expectations. The trajectory brought them above the atmosphere then, according to the laws of physics which affected all points in the universe, the free fall ensued, until reaching an altitude and speed where the aerobic propulsion took over.