Wetwire: Visionaries
Part Four: Touching Distance
by Erik Rodgers
Published at Smashwords
Copyright 2012
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Everyone is staring ahead, through the front glass of the chopper or out the sides, slack jawed and awed. What was a shimmering mass of light and steel before has now gone black. Lights out in the Cliffs.
“Like a sign from heaven.” I glance over at Levin but he just smiles.
“She came through for us,” Sara says, her spirits buoyed by it.
“Imagine that,” I say. “A politician makes good on her word.”
“Showtime,” Brigand says, with a loud smack of the hands. Marmoset looks down into his computer and starts tapping.
“It’s only the Cliffs,” he says. “Supplemental power should be coming online soon.” Then, like clockwork, dim, gauzy light starts to twinkle inside a window here and there. One by one the buildings start to glow again, pushing back the dark.
“We’ve got to move fast,” Sara says, turning to the pilot. “Tell them we’re a security detail.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the pilot says. “Clearance systems are down right now. When they come back online, I’ll check in.” Sara nods and then turns to smile at me. “How you feeling?” I nod enthusiastically but really I have a black pit in my stomach. My head is blank. I can’t get a feel for anything, and anxiety is welling up in me. The bobbing of the chopper has my equilibrium off and I’m beginning to get nauseous.
The chopper streaks low between buildings, and we see searchlights pop on above. The Cliffs takes its airspace seriously, so we’re staying low, trying to avoid too much attention. Never mind the fact that a chopper streaking between buildings is gonna draw some attention anyway. The key is to move quickly. Get in and get out.
“There it is,” Sara says. I grimace, not being able to recognize anything in the dark. It all looks so different like this, with the bluish halation of the backup lights casting everything in a vaporous hue. I notice Brigand is watching me closely. He can sense my lack of surety; he can smell the anxiousness on me. His eyes narrow as he fondles his rifle. He gives me an evil grin. Little fucker’s plotting something, I am sure of it. I’ll have to watch my back and my front.
“We need that generator off,” barks Sara as we watch more lights click on in the building in front of us.
“I’m working on it,” Marmoset mumbles, barely loud enough to hear. He taps diligently on the screen, as Brigand sits next to him, rocking and staring out towards the building.
“We don’t have much time,” Sara emphasizes, but Marmoset doesn’t hear. He is lost in his work. Sara sighs and rubs her face in consternation.
Across the way, I can make out the dark spot where the Caldera sign is, like negative space ringed with light. Then, like a flash, I see her, L-42869 staring back at me. Holding a rifle. She has a strange look in her eye, like she’s really a thousand miles away. Is she defending herself or attacking? The image drifts away before I can tell. When I come to, Sara is staring at me, with an expectant look.
“What did you see?”
“She’s still here,” I say, “but they may be armed.” Sara nods.
“Great. Brigand, when those lights go out, I want you and Levin to secure the base of the building. Adam and I will enter on the roof. See if we can flush them down.” Brigand nods, and grabs a base chute. Levin and he help each other strap the chutes on while Sara rolls back the door.
“Got it!” Marmoset yells, and all at once, the target building slips back into the night, its edifice only reflecting the dim glow of the buildings around it. Sara gives the nod and Adam and Levin jump out street side. After a moment, we can see their small black parachutes billow open below us.
“Now put us on that roof,” Sara says and the chopper starts to lift. Out the side, we watch the dark glass streak by, and I wonder if they’re watching us right now. Does L sense us coming for her? Can she see me like I see her?
We crest the roof, and rise another twenty feet higher. Sara clicks on a searchlight, and begins to scan the roof. The helipad is empty, the small hutch next to it stands open, no one inside. The entrance to the building is about five yards past, near the far south corner of the building. Several private guards stand near it, shielding their eyes as we hit them with the light.
“Okay, land us,” Sara says, keeping the light trained on the private guard. The men don’t draw their weapons, but one of them breaks off and hurries towards the helipad. As we touch down, I jump out, brandishing my assault rifle in the direction of the approaching guard. He offers both his hands up in front of him, but my eyes go to the weapon on his hip. It’s a quick draw holster. I step back, but keep my gun trained on him. Sara clicks off the light and hops out after me, her rifle in hand, but lowered at her side. She moves straight for the guard, and they meet at the edge of the helipad, about seven feet in front of me. She keeps to the far side, so that I have a clean shot if I need it.
“Police,” Sara says. “We saw your generator go out, and we want make sure everything’s all right.”
“We’re fine,” he says. When the power went out, everything locked down. So we’re safe.”
“All the same, we’d like to go in and check,” she says, shouting above the buzzing chopper. “Yours is the only generator to go down. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”
“We’ve got it handled,” he shouts back. I watch his hand drift down. It might be an innocent gesture, or it might be a signal to his compatriots.
“All the same,” Sara insists and she motions to me. The guy glances quickly in my direction.
“We don’t want any trouble,” the guard says, “but you have no jurisdiction here.”
“On the contrary,” Sara starts to rebut, but she knows as well as I there’s no reason to. There’s only going to be one way through these guys. His hand stiffens about six inches from his gun, and his partners start approaching. I count three, but I’m sure there’s a fourth, taking up a strategic position between the door and us. Probably near one of the dormant searchlights. There’s an uneasy silence, as the guard glances back at his approaching partners.
“Call them off,” Sara says, slowly raising her gun.
“Just the two of you?” the guard asks and the implication is clear. She doesn’t give him a chance to smile, though. Her rifle muzzle catches him in the gut and her hand reaches his gun before he can. Unarmed and with her rifle in his belly, he raises his hand to stop the others.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” she asks, but he doesn’t answer. I spot movement by the searchlight.
“Get Down!” I shout, and a shot rings out. Sara anticipated it too, and she’s swung herself around the disarmed guard and pulled him on top of her like a human shield. Three bullets fly, two from the group and one from the gunman behind the searchlight. All three bullets take out their unarmed compatriot. They’re not fucking around.
Sara and I look at each other, and I can see the anger in her eyes. She doesn’t want to back down, but this is gonna be a bad way in. I shake my head, as everyone waits to see who is gonna make the next move. Sara bites her lip, she’s really itching to shoot these fuckers right now, but she knows I’m right.
“Got an upload for suicide mission?” I ask into the headset. I can’t let her make the wrong decision.
“Fuck you,” she barks back, with a half smile. “Marmoset,” she says.
“Gotcha,” he squawks back, and the roof rings out with suppression fire from the helicopter. The guards have all made defensive cover though, and it’s unlikely that he’s hit anything. Sara drops the dead body and moves back towards the helicopter. I’m not far behind. Once we’re on, Marmoset lays off. Sara grabs the spotlight, and swings it around. A well-placed shot catches the light though, smashing it.
“Take us up,” Sara says, and we lift off. A few pot shots follow, tinning off the side of the chopper.
“Fuckers,” Marmoset says, leaning back over his rifle and sending a few rounds into the already smashed searchlight. They don’t return fire, so Sara pulls Marmoset off. We’re quickly twenty-five, thirty feet in the air, and falling back towards the street. Sara kicks the side in frustration.
“You got a plan B?” I ask, while trying to track the movement of the guards on the roof.
“Depends,” she says. “Marmoset, can you override the system and get that door open?”
Swift saw the skyscraper go black again; he heard the chopper overhead and his heart sank in fear. His imagination ranged over the most terrible things waiting in that dark — that he had been abandoned or worse, that he would walk into a trap. What kept him on his trajectory, though, was the thought of L-42869. If she was there, then they were closing in on her and he was her only chance to escape. So he continued on, without a plan, without knowing if he could even get her out safely. The only thing he did know was that if he hesitated, if he stopped, all these dark fears lurking would seize him and it would be over.
As he neared the building, he was surprised to see people starting to file out onto the streets. An old woman walked with an armed guard, a small poodle clutched in her arms. Two kids ran around in the street, playing hide and seek, unaware of any real danger. Local residents all had their eyes fixed skyward, towards the darkened edifices, watching lights here and there blink. They seemed more curious than alarmed or worried; they exhibited no fear, as indeed, just beyond them, in the doors and alleyways security loomed, not just with side arms, but sporting rifles and gazing out with menacing ferocity.
By contrast, there was an odd hush around the darkened tower that was Swift’s destination. No one milled about, it was bottled up and full of secret. Had there been people milling about there, he perhaps could’ve slipped right in. Instead, he approached awkwardly, seeing only the smooth facade of glass, unbroken by doors or entrances. There was not even the red blip of security cameras to betray a sense of life inside. His body slowed and all those dark fears reared up inside. He spotted an alley that dipped down to the left and hurried to it, but it only ended in a heavy gate. The building was clearly not designed for pedestrian entrance, as he found was little more than pitched glass as he encircled the building.
When he finally did find the lone door at the rear of the building, it was predictably locked. He hovered near it, scanning the security cameras that sat inert, limp. They were clearly not working. He wracked his brain for options but none came. Why hadn’t Madden come? He felt painfully lost there in the dark; his knees weakened and his head began to burst with despair. He had let his life so quickly become a singularity, focusing only on his desire to join the garden that now, in the face of abandonment he felt as though he would simply drift off into the wind.
Perhaps capture would not be so bad. Perhaps they would wipe his mind and he could start again. He was, after all, just a clone, a mere carbon copy. Perhaps he’d been running from the truth of it all the whole time. His life had been so full of dead ends like these. Perhaps there was nothing more to pursue. The garden had been an ephemera — intangible, unreal. Faced with the unforgiving glass and steel before him, he had to consider that a real possibility. Then the door opened. He almost didn’t believe it at first, the mechanical sound of the lock turning and then the creaking of the door, like in some old movie. Only no light shone from inside, instead more darkness, thicker and more impenetrable than the gauzy dark outside.
“Come on,” said a voice from inside. “They’re upstairs. Waiting for you.” Hope flooded his brain like a drug and he bounded forward with sudden euphoria. His emotions were at fever pitch, so he could only stutter a thank you as he rushed inside. Behind him the door snapped shut, completing the dark around him. It only lasted a second, but that second seemed to hold the threat of never ending. Instead, a flashlight clicked on and a figure, a bulky man with a rifle and security clothes could be made out in its light.
“You’re Swift, right?” He said, betraying his own nerves in the quail of his voice. Swift nodded and provided some sort of guttural affirmation. The man nodded then, and turned and walked silently towards another door. Swift followed closely and soon found himself on a long, turning staircase, ascending in silence, with only the dull institutional sound of footsteps to fill the space around him. His legs quivered as they climbed, already fatigued from the long walk, but he steadied himself with the wall and continued on.
“Why did the power go down again?” Swift asked between breaths. The guard’s solemnity was unnerving.
“The back-up went down shortly after it came online. The whole network here has been jammed up.” Swift nodded, knowing that meant it had been targeted from the outside. The helicopter he had heard outside was the likely culprit.
“What are you guys going to do?” Swift asked, hoping that some plan of action was underway. That optimism slipped away in the long pause that followed. “Surely there must be a plan,” Swift prompted, vainly wishing the silence was due only to the guard’s reticence.
“The building is secure. We should be back online soon,” was all the guard would say. He did not look back during the exchange, marching somberly upward, the whole time sometimes taking two steps, sometimes only one.
By the time they made the loft, Swift’s legs had gone almost completely numb. He surprised himself, though, by his ability to continue on and a few moments later, he was reminded of the purpose of his journey. There was L-42869, in the hazy light of a battery-powered lamp, looking at him with gleaming eyes. She seemed relaxed and calm next to Jo, who sat beside her, arms crossed, her body gently rocking. Even in the dimness Swift could tell that her eyes were swollen from crying.
“Where’s the professor?” Swift asked, knowing how unwelcome the question would be but not able to think of anything else to say. Jo just looked away.
“He left this morning, said another guard, with a kinder face despite his bulky presence. He was at the window, staring out into the darkness. Swift moved towards the girls, fearing he would collapse if he stood still too long.
“We’ve got to get you guys out of here, then.” Swift said, and Jo nodded, but still avoided direct eye contact. Swift put his hand on her shoulder but she did not respond to his touch.
“I … am ready,” L-42869 said with a halting cadence. Swift turned to her and, on impulse, embraced her. To his surprise, she returned the embrace with ardor. Reluctantly he pulled away and turned again towards Jo.
“We’ll see him once we reach the Garden,” Swift said, but Jo just shook her head. He couldn’t tell if she hoped not to him again, knew she never would, or perhaps it was a mixture of both. Either way, there was nothing else for him to say, as one of the guards radio’s crackled. It was a faint sound, drifting out from on open earpiece, too faint to be understood by any of the trio. The guards however, glanced between themselves nervously.
“What was it?” Swift asked.
“There’s been gunfire on the roof. That chopper outside tried to land and enter.”
“It’s the extraction team. I’m sure of it,” Swift said, and no one had any doubt about it. He stood, steadying himself on his weak legs, and then tugged gently on Jo’s shoulder. “We’ve really got to go.” Jo stood this time, digging deep to find some strength. L stood beside her and slipped her arm around Jo. Swift was surprised to see the affection that had grown up so quickly between the two, but he didn’t have time to think about that now. He turned to the guards, with the two girls in tow and asked—
“How do we get out of here?”
“I can drive you out of the Cliffs,” said the one by the window, “but after that, you’re on your own.” The other guard nodded reluctantly, distracted by more chatter coming in on the headset. The first guard then pulled out a small device and waved the trio towards the elevator. “I’ve got twenty minutes of electrical charge on this. That should get us down in the elevator and get the door open downstairs.”
“Good, cause I didn’t think I would be able to make it down those stairs,” Swift said, breathing a sigh of relieve. The moment of levity fell flat, though, as everyone hurried in silence to the far end of the room. There, the guard connected the handheld device to the elevator. A dim security light began to glow and the distant hum of the elevator mechanism could be heard. This seemed to raise everyone’s spirits. The second guard was the last one in and they all felt the pangs of optimism tingle as the doors to the elevators snapped shut and they began the slow descent.
“We will get you just beyond the gates. There’s a safe house about twenty minutes from there.” They all looked at Swift, who nodded, realizing that he was now the point man. “I suggest you lose all electronic devices and any smart clothes if you’re wearing them.” Swift nodded; he still was carrying the compiler. He pulled it from his pocket and switched it off. The guards shared a woeful look. “Drop it, once you’re out of the Cliffs. That way it can’t be traced back here.” Swift nodded and slipped it back into his pocket. As he did, they all suddenly stumbled as the elevator jerked to a stop. The security light snuffed out a moment later.
“What the hell,” the guard quickly checked his portable power unit. “I’ve still got power on this thing.”
“It’s a remote override,” said the other guard, pointing to a small red flashing light on the panel of buttons. For a moment, no one said anything, and only the sound of the guards drawing their weapons broke the silence.
“Holy Shit, you’re gonna like this,” Marmoset practically jumps out of his seat. Sara and I are still high on adrenaline, angling to find a way back and win the fight on the roof, but Marmoset is insistent and he forces us to pay attention.
“So I just took control of the security functions by activating a low level power cell in the building. Basically enough to keep the building’s brain alive.”
“How does that help us get back on the roof?” Sara asks, irritated. She is still holding her gun like she’s ready to unload.
“I don’t know,” he says unfazed, “but check this out. When I did that I found one of the elevators in use.” He can see Sara’s brain click back on when he says it, and he knows he has her attention now.
“I thought power was off?” She says.
“Sure, but they could have a remote power cell. Gives you local control of things. A place like this is always prepared for some sort emergency or home invasion.”
“Wait, so they’re on the move, then?” I ask.
“They were. Only here’s what’s so great. I froze it. Halfway down. They’re trapped. Whoever is in there ain’t going anywhere now.” Sarafina grabs a hold of his arm.
“Do you know for sure it’s them?” Marmoset shakes his head, a little less enthusiastic than he was before.
“It would make sense,” I say. “If they knew we were coming, they probably want to get her out. If Flamini’s not here, then who else is so important they have to be moved now?”
“We did just light up the roof,” Sara points out. She then turns back to Marmoset. “What floor are they on?”
“I’m holding them between Twelve and Fourteen. There’s no thirteenth floor.” Sara looks out at the building, the reflection of the helicopter dimly hovering there.
“Why don’t we just go in that way,” she says, “through the glass?” She catches me grinning.
“I like the idea of going in big,” I say, but Marmoset dampens our fun.
“No dice,” says Marmoset. “Not only is that glass bulletproof, but it also has an electromagnetic trap that goes off if the glass is busted. It’d take you, your guns and your armor down.” Sara looks back at him. “That Flamini is serious business.”
“Well, how do we get in then?” Sara says, her mind racing for solutions.
“I say we go back to the roof,” Marmoset says after a moment. “We draw security up there, and hope that Brigand and Levin can make progress from below.
“No way,” I say. “I need to be in there.” Marmoset just gives a half smile, like the weasel he is, and I know he’s not going to help me on this. Besides, deep down I know he’s right.
“Where are they down there?” Sara asks, reluctantly giving over to the idea.
“I’ve got them cleared at a side door. Just have to pop it open for them. No security in the ground floor, right now.” Sara doesn’t like it either, but we both know it’s the smartest way forward. You have to trust your troops. She must be thinking the same thing cause she finally nods.