Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (21 page)

"Mine."

Damn. She lied, and to her uncle no less. Harlan scratched his upper lip to disguise his smile. These Dark Hopians held potential after all.

Easing free of them, she stalked down the tunnel. "Now can we get on with the debriefing?"

Harlan fell in behind her. The backpack hung just above her ass. It was a nice view, and better yet, it would piss off her uncle.

Dawson cleared his throat. "Why did you decide to pay us a visit, Westminster?"

 Pausing by another door, Sera set her hand on the small black box next to the jamb. It flashed green then the wheel in the center of the door turned on its own.

"The 'Viders have his sister, and something happened to his men." She tugged on the wheel and the door hissed open.

His jaw went slack. He may have mentioned his sister, but he hadn't said anything about his men.

She grinned at him. "Rule one: Don't engage the enemy without a friend or five at your back."

Dawson pushed him inside. "I thought rule one was if it isn't about survival, it's about sex."

"They're all rule one, Uncle. It's kinda fun."

Puddles formed on the concrete floor before channeling into the drain. The floor vibrated just a bit and water gurgled through a pipe.

Harlan glanced up. Rust pimpled the grayish ceiling. They were under the river. He rubbed his hands together. Hot damn. With such marvels, the 'Viders didn't stand a chance.

Dawson swore. "Frost, too?"

They knew about Frost? Well, hell they knew about him and the naked Sera show, they probably knew he didn't wear drawers under his pants. Frost had always kidded him about it. Grief lodged in Harlan's throat and he jerked his head once.

"Damn, I wanted to shake that man's hand. You two did some great work together."

Sera opened the next door. "I am sorry about the loss of your men."

That and a gold ring would buy him a drinking binge. To his surprise, a spiral stairway soared in the small chamber on the other side.

Sera's footsteps tapped the metal as she climbed.

He followed a little slower. This view was even better.

Dawson prodded his back. "Our files don't include any references to family. How long has your sister been gone?"

Harlan kept his pace steady. "Years."

"How do you know she's still alive?" Dawson set a hand on Harlan's pack and shoved.

Yeah, yeah. He picked up his pace. They were nearly to the top anyway. "I'd know." He thumped his chest. "Here."

The knock sounded hollow, empty.

Dawson grunted.

Opening the next door, Sera marched through. "Where are we debriefing?"

"War room." Dawson slammed the door shut behind them and checked to make certain it was locked. "If Harry here spills his guts in front of everyone, then it'll save me from having to repeat it."

"Harlan, not Harry." Only his sister called him Harry. Until she was found, he was Harlan. Only Harlan.

They walked down a long hall, closed doors on either side each with a hand pad next to them. Mirrored bubbles hung from the smooth ceiling. Aside from a draft coming from a metal vent, everything was silent. Even their footsteps. He glanced at the thick tan carpeting. This stuff was pretty handy.

"Fair enough, Harlan." Dawson drawled out the name.

Sera opened the door in the middle of the passageway and drew up short.

Harlan slammed into her back, grabbed her shoulders to steady her, then looked up. Another Sera just as she'd been——stripped at the waist, back arched and breasts jutting forward. She looked good.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one looking.

Four men filled the room, each staring at the image as it tightened on her chest.

In one smooth motion, he removed his pack and hurled it at the fake Sera. "What the fuck is wrong with you people? Where is your professionalism?"

All four men jumped. One flew to a desk and frantically pounded on the top. The image disappeared.

"If anyone, anywhere ever sees that picture again, I will personally force feed your testicles to every man in this room." Dawson's voice was soft, deadly.

Harlan nodded. He would take care of the other bits.

Sera squeezed her eyes shut and shook herself. When she opened her eyes, a determined glint shone from their depths. She removed her pack and set it on a table. "Thackery, if you could bring up a map of the area."

"Yes, ma'am." The man who'd pounded the desk nodded. A blush stained his lean features and he didn't glance in Sera's direction.

Harlan cracked his knuckles. He knew Thackery. Hell, he knew the other three as well——Mayfair with his blond hair and perfect smile that needed to be messed up just a little, Kennedy had dark, curly hair and an irritating swagger, and Martin had brown hair and ice blue eyes that needed to be blackened. They had taken his gold to ferry the rescued tribute out of the 'Viders reach. If they were such do-gooders, why had they accepted payment? His hands curled into fists. "Where do you send the tribute?"

The wall picture flashed images of the land as seen from a bird. A flying bird. He recognized the river's snaking blue line, Abaddon's circle and rectangular patches of farms. The top ones were planted, brimming with life, but the ones below were fallow, forgotten. From up high, he could even see where the ancient roads had been.

He traced it to the bottom but didn't find where the road had branched off toward his old village. Not that it mattered. His father was dead. His mother was dead. His brother was dead. Who cared if anything remained of his old home?

"We take the people to one of our Burbs." Clearing his throat, Dawson shoved a chair at Harlan. The wheels squeaked as it rolled over the carpet.

Harlan stopped it with his foot then perched on the table near Sera. "How many Burbs do you have?"

She rolled her eyes. "There are twenty-three cities in the Confederation. Each accepts a share of the people you save. The gold you pay funds our mission here, gets guards to look the other way when we smuggle folks aboard the train to ship them out."

Thackery tapped on his table again. Abaddon shrunk smaller and smaller until blue appeared on the sides and bottom. Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean, and Gulf of Mexico shimmered on the blue. Red bubbles freckled the land.

Words he'd seen in the animal book. Harlan picked Dark Hope out near the center. He gripped the desk to keep from sliding off. "Is that all that's left?"

The world before the Redaction had seemed so big.

Thackery and Mayfair chuckled.

Sera pinned them with a glare and they choked on their laughter. "That's North America. There are six more continents around the globe."

He nodded. Good, that was good.

"Save the history lesson." Dawson stabbed the air with his index finger. "Tell me why the hell you deviated from the plan and jumped ship? Literally."

Ho! Harlan shifted off the desk and plopped into the seat next to her. "She didn't jump. She——"

Sera kicked him in the shin. "I——"

Dawson shook his head. "Since you are so fond of speaking for each other, let him finish Serendipity."

"Yes, sir." She swallowed. Hard. Her attention remained fixed ahead.

Harlan rubbed his sore leg. If he kept the secret of her being pushed from the airship, then she would owe him. He liked the idea of her owing him.

"Stop grinning like a baboon, Westminster, and tell me how my officer fell into your wandering hands."

Twisting in his seat, Harlan faced the men. He'd let the comparison to the primate slip, but he was damn sure his ass never turned blue despite having nearly frozen to death a couple times. "She caught a parachute and floated safely to the ground."

Dawson grunted. "And how did she happen to get a TSG-17 when they were supposed to be recycled months ago?"

Harlan shrugged. How the hell was he supposed to know? He'd never heard of the things 'til she tried to shoot the 'Vider.

Sera cleared her throat. "It was in the crate that I followed to the ground. I don't know how many were unloaded before I discovered it, but I'd estimate at least four."

"Manifest!" Dawson pounded on the table.

Thackery jumped. Another picture appeared next to the map. "All items were recorded as delivered."

"It's possible one of the crew is involved." She combed her hair into a ponytail. "They would have been able to load more cargo without anyone questioning it."

"You're talking one traitor on the ground to help and possibly the Quartermaster." Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's a God damn conspiracy."

"I managed to neutralize one crate." She picked at her cuticles.

Dawson pointed to the screen. "Leaving potentially hundreds out there."

Hundreds? Harlan sat forward. If the 'Viders had them, they would be unstoppable. "You have a defense against the weapons, right?"

Dawson frowned. "Depends on how good a shot they are. Mayfair, find out everyone who handled the TSG-17s. Kennedy, cross-reference that with everyone who worked on the airship, from the ground crew to the man who scrubs the toilet. I want to know if any of them shat the same color this morning."

"Yes, sir." Both men scattered to separate desks and set to work.

Sera swiped at the blood running along her thumbnail. "You should include the passengers. They were getting ready for dinner when it happened. I don't know how many of them have an alibi for the time in question. Eighteen forty-five to nineteen hundred hours."

"Got that, boys?"

Nodding, Mayfair and Kennedy stared at the images embedded in their desks.

The screen switched back to the aerial map. A blue dot appeared in a patch of green. "Sir, this is Officer Tahoma's location for the time in question."

Grabbing her pack, Sera pushed out of her seat. "Where did you plant the tracker?"

"It's embedded in your birth control pump. And I think your mother fed you a back-up one at your going away party." Dawson smiled at his niece. "You didn't seriously think I’d let you leave Dark Hope, without certain precautions, did you?"

Harlan folded his hands over his stomach. Sera's kin were smart. If he'd have had the same ability, he would have given it to his sister, saved her a long time ago.

Sera set her hand on her hip. "You could have told me."

"All our field operatives are tagged since the Beagle disappeared over the Great American Desert. You have no privacy, you belong to the service."

Harlan sat up straighter. Belonged to the service? If she wasn't free to choose her course, what made these Security Forces different than the 'Viders?

She waved her hand dismissively. "I was afraid you'd be worried when I didn't land at Abaddon."

Rising, Dawson clasped his hands behind his back and paced. "The term you're looking for is shitting a brick. And I did, enough to build a goddamned courthouse until the low-orbit satellite moved into range and Thackery found you canoodling with Westminster. We've been tracking you ever since."

"Sir." Thackery raked a hand through his short red hair. "I think we may have a problem."

"Think? You think?" Dawson leaned across the table, balancing his weight on his knuckles. "Son, have you not been in the same room as me for the last ten minutes? We've got a tremendous problem."

"Gavin Neville's group settled twenty klicks from where Officer Tahoma landed." Thackery ran his thumb over the shiny part of his desk and the image shifted.

Harlan made out people walking. Men-shaped. Women-shaped. Then it skimmed over desert and rocky canyons to the square cut of houses and buildings. Christ, they really could tell what color you shit this morning. His skin itched. What else did they watch from their safe little room while their scientists studied the action? While people died.

His people.

His friends.

His family.

Dawson reeled away from the desk. "That'll make the conspiracy nutters at home happy. The specter of Gavin Neville has returned, once and for all, to destroy Dark Hope."

The folks from Dark Hope had their own 'Viders? Interesting and probably deserved. "Who is this guy?"

"After the Redaction and following nuclear meltdown, he ran for President against..." Sera paused, "against the woman who had led everyone to safety."

He shook his head. "Not everyone, Peaches."

His ancestors hadn't made it to the famed Dark Hope.

Her eyes narrowed. There was the family resemblance to her uncle. It looked better on her than on Dawson. "When Gavin Neville lost the election, he literally tried to bring Dark Hope crashing down. The security officers managed to stop it, then he and his followers were banished."

"And now they're back like the rising sun." He propped his feet up on the table. "Rule number one of the Outlands: Kill your enemies before they kill you."

Thackery snorted. "We're the good guys. We don't kill people."

Harlan returned his feet to the floor. The little twerp thought to insult him, did he? "That would explain why there's so many good guys risking their lives to save innocent girls from having their heads bashed in with stones."

God! Why had he thought these people would be able to help him? They were obviously too good to get their hands dirty, to do what needed to be done.

He'd find his own army.

Eliminate the 'Viders the hard way. He was used to the hard way. It suited him.

Sera planted herself in front of him. Understanding shone in her eyes. "The point in all of this is because of our past with Neville's group, the cabinet will view them as the greater threat."

"And ignore the 'Vider problem. Again." Dawson pounded his fist into his palm. He faced Harlan. "You need to give us a clearer picture of the true enemy. You need to testify as to the 'Viders’ true nature, to the real threat they represent. Then we can receive permission to wipe them out."

Thackery drummed on his desk. The image shifted, backed up so the detail wasn't as precise. "It'll have to be convincing. Neville swore his children would return to wipe Dark Hope off the face of the Earth."

Harlan walked around Sera. Shapes rolled over the ground but they looked like... "Can you get me a better look at this?"