Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA (21 page)

After the UAAV left the field, Scott had a discussion with Maddy and Fournier. Bryn was standing nearby and heard some of what he said; enough to realize the agents had concocted a plan to follow through with Maddy’s suggestion to sink her father’s yacht. When Scott was done speaking, he backed off a bit and settled into the role of bodyguard. Maddy called some of her men over and gave them quiet instructions, while at the same time, Fournier spoke with Dundee.

Not long afterward, everyone on the pier turned their attention to the sky to track the approach of a massive helicopter. It flew over the pier, its rotors churning out a throbbing sound that seemed to vibrate deep in Bryn’s skull. It was one of those army cargo transport copters, and suspended below it was a net full of wooden crates. When the detainees realized Colonel Carter’s promised supplies had arrived, they cheered.

Maddy held her arms up to get the attention of her people, shouting over the noise, her braid flying in the wind. “I fear there will be unequal distribution of the supplies if we don’t intervene. Those who are weak will only get weaker if forced to go without. Can I count on you to help?”

A contingent of Mad Eyes volunteered for the job. Since the bulk of the detainees had rushed off to surround the supply drop, Maddy took advantage and moved their group to one of the bonfires, occupying a spot that had been abandoned.

Bryn sat cross-legged on a patch of dead grass next to Mia, and not far from Padme. Before the heat from the dying bonfire had a chance to take the chill off, she spotted a familiar face. It was the old woman who’d passed her the earbug message for Jason at Edgemere. Bryn had learned later that ‘Esmie’ was Shasta’s informant.

“Scott!” Bryn jumped to her feet.

He came over.  “You alright?”

She didn’t need to say anything because Esmie made a beeline for them.

“Found you!” The old woman cried, like a child playing hide-and-seek. Her dirty white hair was still in two mussed braids, quite possibly the same braids she’d been wearing when Bryn first met her.

“You know where Shasta is, don’t you?” he asked.

Esmie flashed her toothless grin. “Yes! She sent Esmie to find you.”

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

The old woman shrugged her narrow shoulders. “She’s a little tied up.”

“Well, unfortunately, I’m tied up, too.” He glanced around at Maddy and Fournier and made a frustrated growling sound. “I can’t leave right now.”

Bryn straightened her shoulders. “I can.”

“No. Too dangerous.”

“How is it any more dangerous than anything else that’s happened to me today?”

He put a hand on her arm and said softly, “I just don’t want you out of my sight.”

She bit her lip, gazing into his eyes. “I don’t want to leave you either, but can you promise me that if I sit here and do nothing I won’t get kidnapped or shot at or…chased by cheetahs?”

He laughed a little. “I think I can guarantee the cheetah part won’t happen.”

“Really?!” She treated him to a deliberate stare, then said, “Remember what Shasta told me yesterday? She asked if the XIA could count on my cooperation. I’m offering to help, and I think you need it.”

He got that look that told her Lo was talking to him. She must have encouraged him to let Bryn go, because he exhaled in an exasperated sigh. “Fine, but take this.”

He pulled an oddly-shaped flashlight from his belt. “See here?” He pointed to two small metal prongs sticking out at the end.

“Is that a stun gun?” she asked.

“Disguised as a flashlight.” He turned the light on and off again.

“I’m not going to need that. I still have Jason’s gun.”

“Take it anyway. It’s quieter. Pull the trigger here, and zap.” He patted the pockets of his slacks. “Damn. Malone didn’t give my holophone back.”

Mia reached into her purse. “Take mine.”

Bryn tucked the phone into her pocket next to the stun gun.

“Give it to Shasta,” Scott said. “She can contact Lo, who can contact me.”

Bryn smiled and put a hand to his face, rubbing the stubble on his jaw with her thumb. “It’ll be fine.”

“It better.”

“It will.”

“It better.”

She laughed and turned to Esmie. “Remember me?”

“Porcupine and pretty face. How could Esmie forget?” Without another word, she walked away. Bryn tossed a quick wave to Mia before hurrying after the old woman.

They cut across the field at an angle, headed for the far corner of the pier, the one that wasn’t submerged. The farther from the center of the field, the darker it got. The xenos they passed here on the outskirts seemed far less wholesome than those she’d seen thus far; they reminded her of the worst of the xenofreaks at the Warehouse: filthy, homeless, lawless. About a third of them were dressed in prison-orange jumpsuits. She kept her hood low over her forehead and avoided eye contact.

Some of the exterior walls of the dilapidated structure surrounding the field had collapsed. Esmie led her through one such section to the interior. There were more people here, huddled together around fires. The scent of smoke, urine and body odor was overpowering. In places, the second floor had fallen in, opening up black, cavernous spaces above them. The xenos camping here watched with predatory eyes as she followed Esmie through a frame that looked as if its door had recently been torn from its hinges.

Bryn curled her hand around the flashlight slash stun gun, glad Scott had insisted she take it. It was hard to believe Shasta was somewhere in this forsaken place. Esmie went farther in than Bryn would ever have ventured on her own. She was about to ask if she actually knew where they were going, but a chilling sound from up ahead echoed off the discolored walls; a ferocious clamor of voices, avid howling and shrieking that instantly reminded her of the Warehouse and its brutal grease fights.

They approached a chamber lit by a large central fire. In one corner, from the looks of the people gathered there, a fight
was
occurring. Esmie seemed more cautious now. She scuttled inside and melted into the shadows near the wall, hugging it as she crept to another doorway. Then she stopped and turned, a gnarled finger to her lips. Bryn heard heavy footsteps and followed Esmie’s lead, dropping into a crouch and ducking to hide her face. All she saw of the man coming from the room up ahead was a dirty pair of men’s work boots. He stomped off, headed for the fight, and Esmie waved for Bryn to follow her.

Inside the room, it was black as night, so Bryn took a chance and switched on the flashlight.

“Turn it off!” Esmie whispered, flapping her hands.

Bryn instantly complied. She’d seen all she needed to see.

Scott had watched Bryn until she disappeared into the building. Her absence left him with a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he was too distracted to dwell on it for long. Between the constant chatter from the earbug and keeping an eye on Maddy and Fournier, he was multitasking in a big way. If Maddy was disturbed about what was coming, she gave no indication. She was in her element, dealing with her people as they came to her with their issues; problem-solving like a feudal lord conducting an informal audience with her serfs. Fournier, who sat in a daze by the bonfire, wasn’t demanding much of Scott’s attention, but Dundee skulked nearby, always watching.

Scott had made it very clear to the two of them that he was in charge, and so far, they’d seemed amenable. On his orders, they’d dispatched some of their people to scout a quick way through the building to the water, and the rest were waiting for word to move in.

In his ear, he heard Lo. “What’s that? Over there, on shore.”

Boardman said, “Looks like divers.”

“Probably a search and rescue team for the drowned guardsmen.” Alton said.

“Okay, let’s stay on task.” Lo’s voice was strained. “You ready?”

“Target acquired,” Alton replied.

“Scott?”

“Moving in.” Scott nodded to Maddy, who immediately threw an arm up. Two dozen xenos dropped what they were doing and surrounded her.

Scott reached a hand out to help Fournier to his feet, but the XBestia leader shook his head wearily. “I can’t.”

Fournier was forcing Scott to make a split decision: drag the injured man along with them, creating a burden they could really do without, or leave him here. After finally catching the Bestia Butcher, the last thing he wanted to do was lose sight of him. Then again, trapped here on Poppy’s Pier, in Fournier’s weakened state, he wouldn’t get far if he tried to run. Scott looked around for Dundee, but at some point, Fournier’s new lieutenant had slunk away.

The deep
boom
of an explosion made his decision for him. He pointed in Fournier’s face. “Stay here.”

Maddy and her people had already started running. Scott gripped the submachine gun in both hands and set off after them. He’d sprinted maybe fifty yards when the second
boom
sounded. He caught up just before they entered the structure surrounding the pier. Those in the lead met up with some of the scouts and were directed to a hole in the wall – the same one Alton had led him through earlier.

Scott was the only one with a gun, so Maddy and her men waited inside as he stole out onto the dock. With no cover to be had, he dropped flat and crawled to the edge where he could hold the barrel of the submachine gun out over the river. At some point, Maddy’s yacht had slipped off the dock and was low in the water not far downstream. On Singh’s yacht, the helicopter was burning, providing enough light for him to see that the bow of his vessel had already dipped towards the water. It would be interesting to see whether Singh had enough power to summon a rescue from the overwhelmed authorities before it sank to the bottom of the Hudson. Scott and the others were banking on his SOS being ignored just like everyone else’s.

The helicopter lost traction and with a groan of protesting metal, slid into the back of the yacht’s cockpit. With a wicked grin, Scott watched two men leap overboard.

“Inflatable being lowered,” Lo said.

Scott didn’t see anything, so he assumed it was on the other side of the yacht. After a few more tense minutes, Alton said, “Target confirmed. Repeat, Singh is aboard the inflatable.”

“Should we take it out?” Boardman asked.

“Wait to see if they head for the pier,” Scott said.

A moment later, he heard, “That’s a negative on the pier. Looks like they’re making a break for the Jersey side. Too bad they’re about to spring a leak.”

The
crack
of a rifle rang out and Alton chuckled. “Target has changed course. Be advised he is headed your way.”

“Copy that,” Scott said.

He released the trigger and held his hand to his mouth, breathing warmth onto his frozen fingers while he waited. The inflatable rounded the sinking yacht, its orange skin sagging as it struggled to stay afloat. From the sound of it, the pilot had opened up the little outboard motor, but it began to sputter as water flooded it. Some seconds later, it stopped altogether. Scott watched impassively as the three passengers took to the water about a hundred yards from the dock and began swimming, unaware of what awaited them.

The two men who’d jumped overboard were also swimming in, but they didn’t have the benefit of life jackets like the men from the inflatable. Scott waited impatiently, trying not to sympathize with any of them.

It was quieter now. With food and water to pacify the detainees, they weren’t as unruly. The gentle sound of water lapping against the underside of the pier was almost hypnotic. On the yacht, the helicopter fire had spread to the cockpit and was quickly becoming a conflagration. A bright streak of orange light reflected off the surface of the water. Scott’s attention was caught by a trail of bubbles and he suddenly remembered there were divers in the water.

“
A little tied up
?” Bryn hissed at Esmie.

“Okay. A
lot
tied up,” Esmie replied.

Bryn stood indecisively near the door, eyes slowly adjusting to the sparse light coming in from the exterior chamber. There were exactly five people laid out on the floor of the little room. Bryn had a gun and a stun gun, but no knife to cut their bindings. Something told her Shasta wouldn’t be lying there bound and gagged if the ropes around her wrists and ankles could have been untied.

A sound from outside warned her just in time; she flattened herself against the wall as the big man returned. Esmie hadn’t moved though, and the man saw her instantly.

“What are you doing here, hag?”

The old woman squinted up at him. “Esmie is distracting you.”

“What?” he snapped.

With a jolt, Bryn realized she was sending her a message. Bryn licked her lips and fit her finger to the trigger of the stun gun. It activated with a crackle that alerted the man. He twisted around and she thrust it against his chest, wincing away as the electrical charge overwhelmed his nervous system. He made a choking sound before crumpling to the ground. Esmie immediately bent over him, patting his pockets and pulling things out. “No knife.”

Of course he didn’t have a knife
, Bryn thought. The National Guard would have ensured none of the detainees arrived armed, and the men from the prison buses would have nothing on them.

Shasta started making noises, so Bryn hurried over and worked the rag out of her mouth. There wasn’t enough light to see her face clearly, but just from feel, Bryn could tell it was battered and bloody. Shasta nodded towards the back wall. “Picture.”

Bryn looked over her shoulder. A framed photograph hung low on the wall at an odd angle. She stepped over the other captives and took it down. The frame was black plastic, and it had been hung with string. The glass over the undistinguishable photo had a big crack running from top to bottom. She went back and knelt next to Shasta, who’d rolled onto her side. Bryn turned the picture over, and after twisting the clips to remove the backing, carefully removed a sliver of glass. She began sawing at Shasta’s bindings. It wasn’t rope; whoever had done this must have torn up an item of clothing and used the strips to tie her up.

“Where’re my agents?” Shasta’s voice was hoarse.

Bryn had a feeling Shasta wasn’t going to like the truth, but she told her anyway. “Um, right about now they’re attacking Philip Singh’s yacht.”

Shasta surprised her by laughing softly. “Of course they are.”

A few slices at the material around Shasta’s wrists, and Bryn was able to tear the rest away. After the material parted, Shasta sat up and reached for another shard of glass to start in on her ankles. “Get the others.”

The gag on the first man was too tight to pull down; Bryn had to cut it. When it came free and he spoke, she recognized him as Deputy Director Unger.

“Help Congressman Abbott.”

There were two other men. Bryn had never seen the congressman, but figured it was the white-haired man whose black suit didn’t disguise the huge belly underneath it, rather than the thin man dressed casually. The congressman was lying ominously still, his gag soaked with what smelled like vomit. She was afraid he’d choked to death on it, but then felt his breath blow faintly against her hand. The stench was overwhelming; she held her own breath as she sawed at the moist material. He didn’t respond when she peeled it away from his face.

“He’s unconscious,” she whispered.

“Surprised he’s not dead,” Unger said. “Bastards.”

He retrieved Abbott’s discarded gag and stalked over to their guard, who was moaning and attempting to lever himself into a sitting position.

“You like to beat up on women and old men?” Unger punched the guard in the face, and then forcibly stuffed Abbott’s stinking gag into his mouth. While Shasta helped tie him up with the remnants of their bindings, Bryn cut the thin man free. She’d never seen him before either, but the fifth and last person was very familiar to her. Even in the low light, she recognized her mother’s pale face.

“Thank you,” Nicola Fournier said quietly.

Unger returned to the congressman’s side and shook him gently. “Darrell…come on man, wake up.” He pointed to the man standing with Nicola. “You. Help me with him.”

Between them, Unger and the other man managed to raise Abbott’s torso off the ground, but he was so grossly overweight they couldn’t lift him. Unger muttered, “
Damn
it. Set him down.”

Shasta went to the doorway and peered out. She turned to Bryn, gesturing to the guard lying on the ground. “Stun gun?”

“Yeah,” Bryn replied.

“How’d you get it past the army? They took my weapon, guns, keys…”

“We came by boat. I also have a gun.”

“Thank God,” Shasta breathed, holding her hand out.

Bryn passed it to her and watched as Shasta popped the cartridge out to examine it.

“Fully loaded,” she murmured. “Don’t suppose you have a phone?”

Bryn nodded. She entered Mia’s passcode and handed the holophone over.

Shasta didn’t have a chance to call anyone, however. Footsteps warned them that someone was coming. The man who entered stopped cold when a gun appeared at his temple.

“Thaaat’s right,” Shasta drawled. “It’s payback time.”