Ruins of the Fall (The Remants Trilogy #2) (14 page)

“You never was much of a singer,” Joe says, in his rumbling, kind of stupid sounding voice. Evelyn tries to get away from him, but his fat fingers have a tight hold around her wrist. He doesn’t hurt her, just keeps her in place, lets her know that she’s not going to be making a break for it.

“That’s true,” Reno says. He loosens up his shoulders, like he’s trying to work a kink out of his lanky frame. Then he belts out a couple more bars, off-tune. It’s bad enough that I wince. “That any better.”

Martin unleashes a torrent of furious expletives about how amateurs and dilettantes are ruining art. Both Reno and Joe laugh. At least a couple of us are amused.

“We wasn’t sure until your girlfriend yelled your name,” Reno says, finally regaining his composure. “But yeah, you’re Luke Stokes.”

“You want the HIVE bounty?” I say. “You can have it, you let ‘em both go.”

“We don’t care about that shit,” Reno says.

“Nah, not one bit,” Joe agrees.

“What we care about,” Reno says. “Is making this place a little more habitable. And you can help.”

I glance between Martin and Evelyn and say, “You walk here?”

They both share a laugh and then Reno says, “You get the five-star welcome today.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re gonna save us, kid,” Joe says, like I’m some sort of dummy.

I don’t say anything, but inside, I’m thinking
I’ve heard that before
.

The helicopter sets down in the middle of the broken suburban street. We’ve been following the bones of I5 for the past hour and a half. It’s all lead here: to the western Gifted Minds compound.

We’re not twenty yards from the sign I’ve seen so many times in my visions. Outside of a broken chain-link fence, I can see the faded, ash covered letters: GIFTED MINDS RESEARCH INSTITUTE, WESTERN DIVISION

Joe stays behind with Martin in the chopper. Reno is clearly the lead dog, here. He flew the chopper. So eager to talk in the parking lot, the ride over was surprisingly silent. All I got from him was they were part of the Oshies, and they’d been trying to figure out what was going on here for the better part of a year.

And, apparently, me and Matt had become their white whales.

I’m surprised at how stoic he is, with his wispy mustache and lake blue eyes, considering he just stumbled upon someone who they’d been seeking for so long. But I guess he’s used to being buffeted by chance and fate enough that he doesn’t ride it too hide or too low any more.

Once we’re on the ground and walking towards the sign, Reno starts talking tilt again.

“So you actually seen this HIVE thing up close,” he says.

“You could say that.” I play coy, still feeling him out. No telling what the Oshies agenda is, yet. But their threats have been about the nicest I’ve encountered in this bleak new world. So I guess they score some sort of points for that. Or maybe they just remain neutral on the scorecard.

I hear what sounds like gunfire in the distance. Reno sees my expression change, and he nods.

“The locals ain’t too pleased about us bein’ here,” Reno says. “Funny thing is, I’mma local.”

“Where from?”

“Tempe,” Reno says. “Close enough, right?”

“Guess so,” I say. “You mean the—”

“That goddamn alliance is what I mean.” The skirmish stops and Reno adjusts his hat again. “Them—what do you call ‘em?”

“New Allied States,” I say. “I think.”

“Yeah, them bastards, they’ve been coming for the past month. First the scouts, then some reinforcements last week.”

“How many people you got?”

“Not as many as they have,” Reno says. We pass the sign. I slow down for a beat. It’s slightly surreal to see it in person, and for a moment it feels like I’m having another flashback. But when I reach out to touch the weather-worn letters, the sensation at my fingertips tells me that it’s actually real.

We pass through the chain-link fence. I never set foot inside the Gifted Minds facility in New Manhattan, but this one looks less impressive. Half of it has simply sagged into a heap of rubble, and the other part of it looks ready to crumble at any moment.

Even when it was fully upright, it definitely lacked the opulence of its more refined Eastern counterpart. It resembles a small, one-story elementary school with its drab yellow brick and bent flag pole out front.

A man hurries up to Reno’s side and stands at attention.

“A message from the front, sir,” the young man says. His body quakes slightly from nervousness. He can’t be more than twenty, although his face has been prematurely weathered by a harsh life spent exposed to various elements.

“Thanks,” Reno says, and tips his hat. He takes the piece of paper and skims it over.

“Yes sir. It’s an honor, sir.” Then the kid rushes off, running like he’s walking on air.

“You expect to start calling you sir, we’re gonna have a problem,” I say.

“Part of bein’ the leader,” Reno says. “Occupational hazard.”

I don’t have a smart response, but Evelyn covers for me with faux reverence. “Oh my
God
. We’ve, like, never met anyone as powerful as a—who are you? A Duke? Maybe he’s even a
king
Luke. Can you imagine that? A
king
.”

She squeals with delight at the end, which forces me to stifle a laugh.

Reno tips his hat and smiles at me. “It’s all a little silly, you ask me. If people could make decisions for themselves, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Don’t tell me. Joe’s your VP,” I say.

This time it’s Reno who laughs. It’s as off-tone as his singing, but pleasantly
real
and easy in a way that’s out of place in the world. He stops in front of the bent flag pole and says, “Nah, Joe’s just an old friend is all.”

“Those are hard to find,” I say. Inside, I can see that the facility is far busier than I expected. Through the glass I watch dozens of people mill about, doing apparently important things.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“What’d your little errand boy tell you.”

Reno arches an eyebrow, like it’s too early to trust me. Then he says, “Hell, we’re already deep in this.” He spits on the ground. I can tell from the scent that it’s mint flavored chewing tobacco. “You heard of this Kid Vegas fella?”

A little part of my dies when I hear that name again. But I say, “The worst kind of snake.”

“That’s what your brother said.” Reno reaches into his pocket and takes out a big lump of chew. “At least, in his papers. Hated that summabitch.” He tucks the thick ball into his cheek and looks real intently inside. “The worst kind of snake. What’s that?”

I don’t hesitate when I answer.

“The kind you can’t even tell is a snake before it’s too late.”

For a group of vagrant seafarers who survived on the seas for decades, the Oceanic Coalition is a surprisingly advanced and orderly crew. I was expecting a group of grizzled pirates. What I find upon entering the Gifted Minds building is a highly detailed, incredibly well-lubricated machine.

Unlike the ash-streaked outside, the interior is immaculate. The furnishings are plain, but each workstation is prim and proper, with papers and computers neatly arranged. Despite the dozens of scientists working in just the front lobby alone, the noise level never reaches above a library whisper.

Whatever Matt left here, these people have clearly found it’s the key to their survival.

We take a turn down a wide hallway. I realize that the school-like construction was not an accident—it was a design feature, to make the program feel less like a strange governmental operation and more similar to a child’s natural experience. Aside from ripping the children away from their parents, the Circle didn’t do a bad job.

The rows of lockers and faded corkboards remind me of my own school.

“Come in here for a moment, if you would,” Reno says. Evelyn and I follow him into one of the classrooms. The desks have all been cleared out. On the chalkboard, a series of steps are written out in doctor-esque penmanship. Legible only to the person who wrote it.

The pinkish floors are buffed to a shine, reflecting the fluorescent lights that flicker above. Two lab technicians in long white coats confer in the center of the room. They stand at attention when they realize Reno is present.

“Sir—we didn’t know you were visiting today, sir.”

“At ease, gentleman,” Reno says. “I gotta couple of people you might want to meet.”

“Sir?” The head technician is clearly uneasy. I realize it’s because we look
rough
. It’s been weeks since we’ve bathed. Our clothes are a patchwork of mismatched tatters. Certainly warm, but hardly winning any awards. For the first time, I’m aware of the itchy growth on my face.

It’s a more welcome annoyance than seeing Ramses all the time.

“This is Luke Stokes,” Reno says. Both men’s jaws drop. “And this is his lovely friend, Evelyn…I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”

I’m amused at how proper and statesmanlike he is in the presence of those he commands. With us, it’s like he’s shooting the shit over some pool.

“Vera,” Evelyn says.

“Yes, Evelyn Vera.” Reno takes off his hat and pats his bald head. “From what I’ve gathered, these folks know quite a lot about HIVE. Been a part of it, in fact.”

The head technician has to push up his glasses. Probably wondering if he’s hallucinating this entire encounter. Then he says, in a much more serious voice than I’d like, “If they’ve been inside…”

“Yes, the documents we have indicate that’s problematic.” Reno pauses, then puts his hat back on. “But I trust you boys can sort it out.”

“Yes sir. We will sir. Thank you sir.”

Reno walks towards the door.

“The hell you going?” I say. Behind me, I can almost
feel
the shock of the two technicians. Not that I care. I’ll talk to him however I damn well please, because it’s apparent he needs me.

Until he doesn’t. Then Reno will be like all the rest.

“We’ve read extensively about the hallucinations,” Reno says. Before he closes the door, he adds, “Consider it a show of our good faith.”

The hinges creak, and we’re left alone with the two techs. They almost seem afraid to approach us. Maybe they’re terrified my insubordination will rub off on them.

But then the head tech says, “Before we begin, I believe a shower is prudent. The instruments, you see…they are quite sensitive.”

I turn to Evelyn and grin. “I think he’s saying you smell like shit.”

She flushes slightly and rolls her eyes. “One day, that’s gonna get you in trouble, Luke.”

“What is,” I say as we follow the tech towards the back of the room, where a door links to a repurposed scrubbing station.

“You’re gonna snake charm the wrong person,” she says, her eyes deadly serious. “And you’re gonna get bitten.”

What concerns me most is that she thinks we haven’t already been bitten pretty damn badly.

Turns out the technicians’ worried looks were for nothing. These eggheads have been poring over Matt’s files for the better part of a year. Whatever salve he’d devised for his little HIVE warning glitch must’ve been in there somewhere. It’s a quirk of the scientist to wonder whether your results and theories will pass muster in the field of reality.

The con man, he runs on pure illusion and confidence. It’s right in the name, after all.

“All done,” the head tech says. “Your readings are clear.”

He’s been testing me for the past hour. It’s well past midnight. Next to me, his partner has been doing the same to Evelyn, despite her repeated protests that she was never really messed up to begin with.

The head tech looks surprised at the fact that I’m actually okay. He rubs his glasses on his lab coat and goes over the figure again.

“Oh my—what’s
that
,” I say, pointing to the blackboard. “It’s
alive
.”

He gets a panicked look on his face and begins recalibrating the machine. “I must’ve missed a figure. The coefficients might not be right. I can’t believe—”

I hop off the padded exam table and give him a wink. “I’m just messing with you, Doc.”

He blinks. “I’m not a doctor.” The other part of my statement doesn’t seem to register.

“So, tell me,” I say. “What does the boss man want with HIVE, anyway?”

The past few years have taught me to be suspicious of anyone intensely interested in its capabilities. The head tech sputters and haws, going round and round about how he’s not authorized to talk about confidential information.

“Let me tell you something,” I say, when he’s done chasing his tail, “I’ve been seeing this place for
months
.” I step closer to him, so only a half foot separates us. He’s a bigger man than I am, but he hasn’t endured the same hardships. “Least you can tell me is why you need me.”

He clears his throat and diverts his gaze, looking to his assistant for help. The other man suddenly becomes very interested in the pink floor tile, as if it holds the secrets to life itself.

The head tech finally says, “You’ll have to ask Commander Reno.”

I whistle, like I’m impressed. “Commander.” I nod towards Evelyn, who’s getting off the table. “You hear that, Ev? A
commander
.”

“A real, honest-to-God commander? Wowee.”

I shoot her a glance. “Too much.”

“Really?” She wrinkles her nose and shakes her hair out. “Oh well.”

The two technicians look really confused, like they’ve entered some sort of weird alternate social reality that they just can’t possibly understand.

“Look,” I say, taking my hand and putting it around the head tech’s neck like we’re old pals. “I just need to know what you guys have planned.”

“I really can’t tell you, Mr. Stokes.”

“Then I really can’t help you,” I say, my arm sliding slowly away to illustrate how tenuous this alliance can be. “Sorry.”

I wink at Evelyn, and we start walking towards the door.

“W-wait,” the head tech says, unable to grapple with the idea that he could scuttle my involvement. “There’s a—I think it’s a program. A piece of software.”

“I’m listening,” I say.

“It’s a kill switch,” the head tech says. “Shuts the entire thing down. Or…maybe kill switch isn’t the correct term.”

“I don’t need the technical specs. That’ll do.”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant. Because I think it can also…hand off control.”

I lean against the doorway and act like this information is boring. “What’s the big deal?”

“It hands off control to HIVE,” the head tech says. “The system will make all its own decisions.”

“Interesting.”

I walk away, Evelyn hurrying behind me.

“Interesting,” she says when she finally catches up. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Guess we got a decision to make,” I say. When I blink, no images come to greet me.

Strange.

They’ve become such familiar companions that it’s almost like losing a friend.