Intended Extinction (31 page)

“I see the sewer,” said Bollis, breaking into a run.

When we caught up to him, the gaping mouth of the sewage tunnel opened to us. Water tinted green gurgled out of the tube and exited into a short aqueduct that led to the Hudson. Bollis ripped off one of his pouches and climbed into the tunnel.

“I’m just glad we can’t smell anything,” Dodge said, looking at me through his wonderfully concealed helmet.

“Kinda smells like you,” I jabbed.

Vexin and Dodge kept watch on either side of the sewer, while Tara and I made sure Bollis wasn’t going to send us all to the afterlife. He carefully wrapped strips of gummy explosive around the bars, making a box outline altogether. He finished, snatched the pouch, and jumped out of the tunnel.

“Move,” he directed, pulling out a small, thumb-sized remote.

Everyone backed up against the retaining wall and anticipated the small explosion.

“Blowing grate in three, two, one.”

From my angle, water and debris surged out of the opening and pieces of metal rode the current into the River. A metallic thump echoed from within the tunnel as the cutout fell to the ground.

“One down, two to go,” said Dodge.

We climbed into the dark sewer and sloshed our way into the bowels of GenoTec.

The golden beams from our rifles cured our blindness. Footsteps rebounded off the circular walls as we approached our next goal. GenoTec conveniently decided to hold a renovation project on one of their storage rooms, located only feet away from the sewer. Our plan consisted of connecting the two.

“How close Celia?” asked Bollis.

“A few feet ahead and you’re golden,” she spoke.

Bollis approached the correct section and withdrew his pack again.

“Lights, please,” he said.

The next few minutes were spent setting up the plastic explosives. I watched as Dodge and Bollis attached the adhesive, gray substance to the brick in the outline of a large oval. After finishing, Bollis held the same detonator in his hand and started to backtrack.

Once everyone was out of range, he ignited the first round. After the dust cleared, a perfect hole was cut out of the bricks, their offspring crumpled below. With no intermission in mind, Bollis began to set the second batch of charges. The exterior of the basement level could be seen two feet away from our new entrance. He stepped over the threshold, into a small pocket of negative space between the basement’s exterior and the sewer.

After everything I had been through, I could finally look upon this moment with my own two eyes. An entire month of memorizing schematics and floor plans had reached its fruition. I was staring into the belly of my destiny.

“Okay,” said Celia, “their security AI has been disoriented, you’ve got like thirty seconds.”

“Wait,” cautioned Vexin before Bollis set off the next ring of explosives.

“What?” he asked.

“We need to agree on something before we go in there.”

“And that is?” asked Dodge.

“If we can’t find Justin or Vane,” he said, “we have to assume they’re dead.”

Things were quiet for a minute as we thought. It had been a week since they were taken. Whatever information GenoTec wanted was probably claimed by now. No matter how hard it was to accept, Vexin was right—we needed to focus on our actual mission. We were here to kill Jonas Repik.

SIX YEARS AGO

“Val! Don’t!
I look awful!”

Valiant Davis laughed as he held the video camera, approaching from behind.

“Oh, come on. How often do we get to come to Aruba?” he exclaimed happily, moving the little camera to the window, capturing the white beach.

She rolled her eyes and approached him.

“I still can’t believe it,” she said, letting down her frizzled hair.

Weeks ago, Davis’ work received a bundle of surplus from the government, allowing members to take a vacation sometime in the fall.

“Miracles happen, babe,” he said, shutting off the camera and setting it on the computer desk behind him. He turned to her and smiled wide. Her bangs were drifting over her eyes, sun bleached and a little damp from the swim they had taken earlier. She was skinny and short, with high cheekbones and green eyes that bled mystery. Her glossy smile was enough to send Val overboard. The only kind of makeup she ever wore was a light pink lipstick. She was a natural beauty, he had always said.

“Val, when I married you,” she said as she put her arms around his neck, “I knew what I was getting myself into, but that
shirt
. Babe, come on.” She let out a chuckle.

Val looked down at his fake islander buttondown, complete with front pocket and decorative flowers.

“Ouch,” he joked, “my pride.”

He smiled, realizing the shirt was indeed a little over the top. They kissed and embraced. After a moment, she spoke to him in a serious, thankful tone.

“I love you, Val. I’m so glad we’re here.”

He stood there for a minute, taking in the beauty, smelling her orchid and papaya perfume. He held his wife in his arms and closed his eyes. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Kyla, if you
really
love me, you’ll let me have the last mango soda!”

He broke the embrace and dashed toward the kitchen, laughing. She wore a mischievous grin on her face and chased him outside to the hammock.

A few hours later, after a short trip to the market for some liquor, Valiant double-checked the bag before entering the vine-encrusted beach house.
Have I gotten everything?
Ever since joining S.W.A.T., his meticulousness began to consume him. Kyla usually never appreciated it.

Finally satisfied, he went inside. The house was quiet. Kyla’s purse was set on the dining table, her shoes below.

“Hey, I’m back.”

The voice echoed throughout the tiny two-story abode. He waited for a response while unloading the bottles.

“Kyla?” he called again, stopping to look around the corner of the room.
Nothing
. He walked the circle of the home, landing back at the kitchen. He looked out the window where the hammock and beach were. Nothing but a group of kids playing.
Maybe she went for a walk
—
or she’s upstairs sleeping.
He couldn’t help but allow his S.W.A.T. instincts to activate, observing every little detail in the home. He circled again, trying to find something out of the ordinary.
I’m overreacting. I always do.

A creak came from the floorboards above. He lifted his head and watched the ceiling. Another creak.

Maybe she’s playing a game, waiting for me to come upstairs. Maybe she’s . . . no
. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

He quietly stepped over to the knife holder and withdrew the longest blade he could find. He stalked the base of the stairs and listened again. When silence gave him the green light, he removed his shoes and crept up the wooden stairs.

Three rooms occupied the second level: the master bedroom to his left, one small bathroom straight ahead, and another bedroom to his right. With each step, Val ran scenarios through his mind. His options were limited with the knife.

Two feet from the landing, another creak came from his left—the master bedroom. His muscled tightened and he drew a silent breath. With his back pressed against the stairwell, fingers knitted around his weapon, Val inched his head into the second-level corridor.

He dropped the knife.

Kyla sat in a lone chair in the free space of their bedroom. Her mouth was clamped shut by a single piece of tape and her arms and legs were tied to the chair. Her eyes told a story of fear; they were red and swollen, wide with helplessness.

A portly man in a black suit stepped into frame with a suppressed, silver handgun pointed at Kyla’s skull. He had short, ink hair, a scruffy soul patch, and long, grizzled sideburns.

“Who are you?! said Val, stepping out into the hallway.

“Approach the threshold,” commanded the unknown man, his voice deep and rough, pushing the weapon into Kyla’s head.

Reluctantly, Val came to the doorway. The rage filling his body wasn’t stopping for anything.
“Why are you here? Answer me!”

Another man stepped into view, white hair receding, nose flared, with deep dark eyes and two scars on his cheeks. He wore a similar sport coat with an unbuttoned black shirt underneath. His footsteps made the floorboards creak beneath him. An identical silver pistol hung in his hand.

“What do you want? Please, just let her go. We’ll give you everything we have!”

The fat man’s gun was still locked onto Kyla. “It seems your wife has been digging a little too deep, Mr. Davis,” he said with a frank stare.

Val met his eyes and tried to conjure some kind of plan. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been monitoring her for the last month and a half. She’s gotten into things that she shouldn’t know about. She really needs to learn how to mind her own business.”

Val wanted nothing more than to snap his neck. “Who are you?!”

“You just don’t get it do you? Your wife has been very busy these past few weeks. Has she not told you?”

Work?
What is he talking about?

“S-She works at GenoTec, what does that have to do with anything? Are you terrorists?” His wife’s eyes kept darting to one speaker to the next, sending shivers down Valiant’s spine every time he looked back at her.

The stocky guy tilted his head. “We
are
GenoTec, Mr. Davis.”

Confusion leapt into Valiant’s mind.
“So my wife has found out your dirty little secrets and now you’re trying to shut her up? You’re pathetic!” He thought of spitting up at him, but refrained, for Kyla’s sake.

The fat man dropped the weapon and approached Valiant. “No, you know what’s pathetic, Mr. Davis? The fact that she didn’t even tell you what she was working on.” He moved back in place and raised his weapon again.

“Please! Don’t do this!” Valiant screamed.

“It’s a shame you came home early. You weren’t supposed to be involved—but I guess surprises happen all the time. Just like that surplus money you got, huh?”

Valiant squinted. “You?”

“Everyone’s gonna love the headline, ‘deranged psychopath kills his wife in a secluded beach house.’
Now
we can just add in how he went and killed himself.”

“Please. Don’t do this.”

“Consequences, Mr. Davis. Without them, people never learn.”

With a swift movement, the fat man obstructed Valiant’s view, kicked over Kyla’s chair, and unloaded three rounds.

Valiant’s screams were inaudible—at least to
his
ears. His whole life had just been erased. Everything he cherished about this world had vanished in the blink of an eye. He continued to scream as the man stepped across the room, preparing to finish the job. Tears of grief and dementia came crawling out of Val’s hysterical face. He didn’t care anymore, he
wanted
to die.

A bullet ripped a hole through the fat man’s stomach. He looked down to see sticky blood seeping through his fingers. Two more bullets pierced through his chest. He collapsed onto the floor and his weapon clattered across the wood. Valiant snatched the pistol and raised it to the other mysterious man.

“I’m on your side, hold on,” said the white-haired man in a gruff voice.

Valiant pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

“He always shoots three,” the white-haired man said, holstering his weapon. “You don’t really think I’d let you get a hold of that thing and kill me, or yourself?”

Valiant closed his eyes and gave up.

“Mr. Davis,” the white-haired man continued, tapping across the hardwood floor, “my name is Vane. I have a proposition for you.”

Vexin seemed
a little off-center as we stepped foot into the basement level.

Bollis’ explosion had been soft, but yielded a grand entrance. The storage room was quiet. Tarps were spread across the floor and the ceiling was nonexistent, exposing wires and ventilation.

“Looking good,” affirmed Celia, “the AI didn’t even flinch.” Once she acquired our attention, she gave a quick overview of the mission one last time.

We responded promptly and began to move. The only thing different about this mission started with Justin and ended with Vane. We had to split up in order to cover more ground, instead of our initial plan: a full-on assault. However, Repik remained the main objective. We couldn’t afford to give up eight years of dedicated work in exchange for our friends’ lives. It was just another joker card to my already unfortunate hand.

We divided our munitions between the two canvas backpacks, which were to be held by Vexin and Bollis. The Boomsocket and two RPG-88’s were allocated into Vexin’s pack, while the RAV-70 and Bollis’ generous supply of plastic explosives, sliderjets, and proxy mines were left to the other. Bollis’ homemade sliderjets were small, disc-shaped grenades that zoomed away when dashed to a surface. They would then explode upon subsequent impact.

No one said a word as we prepared. The door loomed a few feet away, taunting us. When the final backpack was slung, everyone approached the threshold, ready to commence.

“Mark, Vexin,” said Bollis. “Twenty minutes. That’s all you’ve got.”

We nodded as our route displayed itself in our minds. Vexin and I had basement duty. We had twenty minutes to scour the lower levels for any sign of detainment cells. Any more time spent further away from our target could cost us our mission.

I could sense Tara’s hatred for Genesis at this decision. In her mind, twenty minutes was unrealistic. She had vied for the opportunity to find Justin herself, but knowing her adamant attitude, Celia and Bollis shut her down. That was the reason I believed she
should
have been the one going after him. Not me—the one who disliked the kid more than anyone else there. For Tara’s sake, though, I decided to do it without complaint.

“We’ll meet on the fifth floor once you’re done. If either of us hasn’t found them before then, we’ve got to assume—”

“Let’s just go,” interrupted Tara. Bollis gave her the benefit of the doubt and gripped his ELBR.

“Hey,” said Dodge, before Bollis opened the door, “let’s keep our eyes open for Celement, too.”

“Copy that,” said Bollis, waving his hand over the square door-lock screen. The sleek slab whooshed upwards.

Our mission was a go.

We were standing in front of a white hallway, leading away in either direction. The floors and walls were polished, made of a sub-material with a see-through surface layered on top. The whole place looked modern and sophisticated.

“Celia,” said Dodge, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing with those cameras.”

“Well,” she replied distastefully, “the more you talk, the more likely I’ll mess up.”

“You’re getting better at comebacks, Cel,” said Dodge happily.

Our group of five sprung out into the hallway, taking high and low positions. The corridor continued down the length of the building with multiple intersections, like a huge maze. Rooms along the corridor were lined with glass, and there were even some openings in the wall, giving off the imitation of a hospital. Our timing tonight was perfect—the place seemed deserted.

“Moving,” said Bollis, starting his stealth walk toward the stairwell doors. Vexin held the rear as we continued. We came to a countertop on our left, a kiosk for information. Before Bollis emerged from the wall, Celia shouted.

“Wait! Get down!”

Our group squatted without a sound and pressed our backs against the wall.

“A heat signature just stopped behind that desk,” said Celia, swearing into our ears.

“Collateral damage,” growled Vexin.

Celia attempted to sort things out, but Bollis was already up, aiming his sub-machine gun at the helpless Volunteer.

“Don’t even think about pressing the panic button,” he said to the stunned, twenty-something-year-old woman sitting at the desk. Bollis probably knew this building better than her.

“Slowly wheel yourself to the wall. Hands on the armrests.” he continued. His voice was deformed from the communication unit in his helmet.

The shaking woman backpedaled.

“Bollis, be careful . . .” probed Celia nervously.

“Can you access patrol routes from this kiosk?” asked Bollis.

The girl didn’t answer, completely terrified.

Bollis stuck his head into the intersection, made sure it was clear, and then rounded the desk to press the ELBR to her skull. He repeated the question.

“Yes! Yes, I can!” she exclaimed, eyes clenched shut.

By this time, Dodge and Tara were clearing the remaining length of the hallway, leaving Vexin and I to make sure no one came down the north corridor.

“Good,” said Bollis, “you’re going to access them.”

The woman gasped in fear and released a few tears before Bollis pushed her back to the station. As she worked for him, I spotted a few yellow-garbed Volunteers making their way down the northern hallway. I brought my head back behind the kiosk wall and announced their arrival. The kiosk was cut out of the corner, and the rest of us were behind different walls, so we had a few minutes before the two scientists would find us.

“This is getting out of hand,” I whispered to the group. “Celia, can you do something?”

“Working on it,” she replied.

I held my rifle’s grip with great force, preparing myself for a potential elimination.

Bollis knew our captive had heard my voice, so he crouched down to her ear and whispered, “If you scream, we’ll have no problem doing this ourselves.”

“You’re just gonna kill me anyways,” she quivered.

“The
patrol routes
,” he repeated fiercely.

She went to work as Celia managed to overload some circuitry, starting a small electrical fire in the northern hallway. I poked my head around the corner to see the two flustered scientists trying to deal with the flames.

“That’s the best I can do,” said Celia.

“Okay, you’re in,” said the Volunteer woman.

Bollis knew GenoTec’s interface system by heart and went to work.

“This is gonna take a lot of stress off your back, Cel,” said Bollis, tapping away.

“I hope so,” she replied.

After rearranging crucial patrol patterns, he stood and withdrew a transparent strip of what looked like a piece of blue tape. He peeled apart an adhesive layer and placed the sticky side onto the Volunteer woman’s hand. She looked up at him with wide eyes before nodding off into unconsciousness. The biological reactant inside the tape flushed a high dosage of sedatives into the lucky host’s bloodstream. Celia had upgraded the potency to allow a longer period of unconsciousness as well as a lengthier recovery stage.

Bollis stashed her body underneath the desk and logged out of the station, making it seem like no one was assigned to the kiosk that night.

“Nice move Bollis, but if you’re getting to that stairwell, you’ve got to move
now
,” urged Celia.

We slithered our way past the two scientists and crossed the threshold into a massive room. We could have easily taken out the Volunteers, but we weren’t here for innocent blood. It wasn’t clear who was on Repik’s side—which I believe was one of his tactics. And who’s to say they deserved to die even if they were with Repik? Besides, this was supposed to be a covert operation. Knowing us though, I doubt things would stay that way.

The square room was fitted with a modern, tube-shaped chandelier, an information desk, and one door leading to the daunting stairwell.

Bollis turned to Vexin and I. “Twenty minutes.”

Tara lingered, holding the manual door open, staring at me through her thick visor. Without facial recognition, I knew she was giving me a look of dependence. She was counting on me to rescue Justin.

“We’ll find him,” I said, speaking to only her.

Her delicate hands clutched the door for a moment longer, and then she was gone.

“I’m overriding the door,” said Celia.

“Focus, you idiot,” Vexin seethed, giving me a short glance before stepping to the blank wall.

I took the scolding in stride and fell in line beside my caustic companion. I
was
focused—I just had more than one thing to focus on.

In a few minutes, fissures appeared in a rectangle shape. There was a whooshing sound before the cut out section raised and separated, revealing the entrance to the basement.

“If you’re so eager, by all means, take the lead,” I said, ushering him to the steps. I could dish it just as well as he could. He scoffed. That’s all I would ever extract from him.

Our boots tapped erratically as we flew down three stories. Once we neared the bottom level, shouting voices came into earshot. We stopped on the second-to-last switchback and peered through the small space in the center of the staircase.

“Harris,” spat an angry GenoTec scientist, “any word from B2 or B3?”

Two men were standing over a few dead bodies. The floor was covered in blood and it looked like one of the corpses had something sticking out of his face.

“No. Nothin’.” Harris—the taller, brown-haired volunteer—began to drag the bodies into the stairwell landing.

“Damn it! Who was on duty when this happened?!” shouted the leader, wearing a new kind of uniform I had never seen. It latched to his body like a glove, colored dark gray—unlike the baggy, yellow drab they usually wore. It almost looked like our Undersuits.

“Mason and Carter,” Harris replied.

The angry scientist stepped forward, his face only inches away from his subordinate.

“If Repik finds out about this—”

“What do you mean?” the boy retaliated. “Of course he knows. It’s Repik—there’s no way we could cover this up.”

“Hell. You’re right. Well, Repik knows we’re dealing with
him
. Maybe he’ll cut us some slack.”

“What about the kid? We couldn’t even contain an eleven-year-old kid. How’s that gonna look?”

My eyes grew large and I checked to see if Vexin had heard. They were alive.
Justin and Vane were alive. I registered an uptake in my energy levels. Hope started to return. Tara’s jubilant face erupted into my mind’s eye.

The scientist in charge stepped over the corpses and looked back at Harris before leaving the room. “It doesn’t matter now. Just clean this up and
find them
. Without the door code, they’ll never reach Level 1.”

“But B2 and B3 said they’ve searched everywhere—”

“I
don’t care
what B2 and B3 say. They’re down here—so
find them!
”

The lead scientist exited, leaving Harris alone and frustrated.

I stepped down to Vexin and tapped his shoulder. We were going to beat GenoTec to the chase.

“Celia, did you get all that?” asked Vexin as we pushed our way to the next level.

“Loud and clear. I wouldn’t expect anything less from those two,” she said, and informed the others.

“No way?!” yelled Dodge from my ear.

“How?! What happened?!” replied Tara, the most excited I had heard her in a month.

“It doesn’t matter,” scolded Vexin. “We’ll find them and meet you soon.”

“Good work,” said Bollis.

Vexin and I came to the second landing and readied ourselves at the door.

“Okay Mark, Vex,” announced Celia, “this is one of the larger testing facilities. Please understand I’m juggling two surveillance loops here. Try to be quick.”

That was true. Celia was managing two parties now; our debt to her had just tripled.

“Is there
any
way to find them from your end now that we’ve narrowed it down?” asked Vexin.

“I’ve only got heat signatures, Vex.”

“Wouldn’t Vane have that foyer door code memorized by now?” I asked. “They could have left the basement already.”

“The code changes every hour. I had to manually override it to gain access. They would definitely need that code.”

“Give us a body count then” said Vexin, referring to resistance within the next room.

“There’s not . . . that’s weird,” she began. “The room’s completely covered in heat. I can’t pick out individual signatures.”

Vexin sighed in frustration. “All right. We’re moving in.”

“Okay, just remem—zzshhzz.”

“What did you say?” I asked, putting my finger to my ear.

“I—chszzzz—and then—zzzsschhhrrr.”

“Celia, you’re breaking up,” said Vexin.

Our end continued to crackle after which Celia went completely dark.

“Damn it,” I said.