Chapter 51: Where's Sophia?

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Benito had been stowed inside a Speedhawk with Nasira, to be shipped to God knows where for God knew what. The last he saw of Sophia was a hood and earmuffs being thrown on her as she was hauled into the back of a separate helicopter. Smoke choked his nostrils. He couldn’t see because of the blindfold, but it sounded like he was in the middle of a war zone.

He felt warm blood slide down his neck. It smelled coppery. Someone collapsed on top of him, knocking his blindfold off one eye. One of the Blue Berets. He reached for the man’s weapon, a compact little submachine gun. He didn’t know how to use it but he held it tight for now.

He pulled away from the dead soldier. The Speedhawk was on its side. Its tail had destroyed a section of chain-link fence that was mounted in concrete barriers. Benito saw movement on the left edge of his vision. He lined up the submachine gun to fire, then recognized Nasira staggering towards him.

She unsheathed a knife from the fallen Blue Beret and severed her plasticuffs, then moved to cut his, noticing that he was holding the submachine gun. At precisely the same moment, he noticed something as well. Off to his right. Someone else with a submachine gun. Adrenaline gushed through him. He pointed his weapon and punched the trigger. It bucked in his hand, kicking rounds high into the Speedhawk’s spine.

Nasira pushed his weapon down. He peered through cloudy vision. A body convulsed on the sidewalk outside, stomach glistening. Black fatigues, helmet. Blurs of people rushed past the body, screaming and yelling.

He turned to Nasira, offering her the submachine gun. Clearly, she’d do better with it than he would. She took it carefully, motioned for him to stay low as she moved outside.

Benito dropped down just as a round cracked over his shoulder. It sounded like someone was attacking him with a whip. At least he wasn’t deaf.

They were in the middle of a war zone. Soldiers in pale blue helmets shuffled together in bursts of movement while men and women threw rocks and bottles at the soldiers. What the hell was going on?

Nasira got his attention, pointed for him to follow her along the Speedhawk and between a crashed helicopter and crumpled gates. He did exactly as he was told, his legs jittery and his heart thumping in his ears. Out on the street, protesters were fighting police officers. He looked up at the shiny buildings that reached into the sky and realized the Speedhawk had brought them to New York of all places. That explained the extended flight time.

‘Where’s Sophia?’ he yelled at Nasira.

‘Back! Back!’ she shouted, pulling him in beside the toppled Speedhawk.

The soldiers in blue helmets had retreated further, pushed back by protesters. He could see some of the civilians were armed with pistols. They were firing them at the soldiers. One of the protesters was lying on the ground holding his stomach. A pool of blood gathered around him. Benito wanted to throw up. But Nasira pushed him through a gap in the protesters and between some white Land Cruisers and a tank-like vehicle.

Benito heard helicopter blades and looked up. Four of them.

‘What do we do now?’ he said.

Nasira opened the driver’s door to a Land Cruiser and hauled herself inside. ‘Get in.’

***

Damien stepped into Security Control. A silent army of computer screens flashed angrily at him over crumpled bodies. He looked down to see sixteen operators lying curled into themselves on the gray PVC floor. He checked a pulse. Nothing.

Denton pushed past him, a mix of sweat and blood covering his bare arms. He was still carrying the General’s finger, which he’d used to gain access to the Security Control room. ‘They weren’t shot,’ he said.

He stopped at a workstation, his attention flickering between the fifteen-foot wide screen and Damien. ‘You look like a stunned mullet,’ he said. ‘Are you feeling off?’

Damien noticed Denton slip his UFO-shaped grenade into his hip pocket. He made a point to keep an eye on that grenade.

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Except for the fact I volunteered to kill my parents, thanks to your programming. Everything’s good.’

Denton looked as if he was about to roll his eyes but couldn’t be bothered. ‘You can keep blaming everyone else for what happened,’ he said. ‘Or you can take responsibility and actually do something.’

Damien squared off against him. ‘Why should I take responsibility? It’s not my responsibility to take.’ He kept his voice low. ‘Don’t try to manipulate me. We’re done here.’

Denton didn’t even blink. ‘I’m just trying to help you.’

‘Here’s hoping we don’t cross paths again,’ Damien said.

‘What the hell is that?’ Jay said.

He was pointing to a large screen tiled with live camera feeds. There was one part of the level that had caught his attention. Damien noticed it too. Among all the dead bodies, someone was still alive.

‘There! Again!’ Jay thrust a finger towards it, but as soon as he did, another feed replaced it.

With a few keystrokes, Denton brought the feed back for him, making it full-screen. ‘This one?’

Jay nodded, but didn’t say a word.

Damien stepped closer to check it out. It looked like some sort of solitary confinement chamber. Inside, there was a restroom and a bench with a finger-thin mattress. Sitting against the wall was a young woman in gray pajamas with a black hood over her head. Her chest rose and fell slowly. She was alive. Barely. There was a fresh dressing wrapped tightly over her left shoulder.

Denton shrugged. ‘I guess Sophia wasn’t so lucky.’

Jay sneezed, almost blasting Damien’s eardrums.

Denton glared at him. ‘That is not normal.’

‘That cell,’ Damien said. ‘Where is it?’

‘High-level containment.’ Denton leaned against a body slumped over an office chair. ‘It’s a short-term prison, mostly for interrogations.’

‘You mean torture,’ Damien said.

‘No, we outsource that.’ Denton pulled an old tooth from his mouth. ‘Hey, look at that. New tooth.’

‘How do I get to that cell?’ Damien asked.

Sophia was now crawling to her knees.

Denton seized Damien’s shoulder. His grip almost made Damien shiver. ‘You can’t. Use your head, Damien. It’s a trap.’

‘Bullshit,’ Jay said. ‘You just don’t want us to rescue her.’

‘No,’ Denton said. ‘You don’t get to where I am without developing an incredible sense of self-preservation. And a fuck-load of paranoia.’

‘I don’t care. I’m going to get her,’ Damien said. ‘You can do what you like.’

Denton stood in front of him. ‘I don’t like the sound of this. It has to be some kind of trap.’

‘What if Denton’s right?’ Jay said. ‘Not trying to play Devil’s advocate or anything.’

‘Think about it,’ Denton said.

‘I have,’ Damien said.

Denton spoke through clenched teeth. ‘She doesn’t care about you, Damien.’

‘You’re not exactly the world’s biggest expert on caring!’ Damien walked past him, for the door. ‘I’ll find my own way there. Jay?’

‘Sophia was using you, Jay. To get what she wanted,’ Denton said. ‘What did she ever do to help you?’

Damien paused in the doorway, waiting for Jay’s response.

‘She saved Damien’s life,’ he said.

‘Fine.’ Denton wagged the severed finger as though it were his own. ‘I suppose I’ll have to take you there.’

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