Into Shadow Page 4

  And now that service had been repaid by the worst possible betrayal. At only sixty-five years old he should have been able to look forward to another forty or fifty years of life and service. Instead his closest friend and ally had turned on him, pretending until the end to be a loving support, but in reality sending him to his death. And for what? More power and prestige? Money? A different political agenda?

  That spark of anger grew into a raging fury that finally drove me off the couch. I didn’t know why Cruz had done this, but I would find out. And Cruz would pay.

  The first order of business was to do what I could to disguise myself. Because of my father’s prominent role in world politics, I had spent much of my life in the spotlight and I was fairly recognizable. I was always flawlessly dressed and made up, outfitted in fashionable and brightly-colored clothing. My love of color was very well known. So my current ensemble of nondescript brown tee, faded jeans, and scuffed sneaks was a pretty decent disguise by itself. No one would expect to see “Perfect Poppy” – as I had been irritatingly named by the media – wearing something so ordinary.

  My most recognizable trait was certainly my hair. I was admittedly vain when it came to my hair and considered it my best feature. It was rich, deep red. It could actually verge a little on orange unless I used a discreet color wash to tame the shade. It rippled to the small of my back in perfect waves – not too wavy, not too straight with just enough body to perfectly frame my face and never frizzy. I loved my hair. But it was just too noticeable.

  I pulled the evening dress from my backpack and used my knife to remove two of the long, flowing panels of chiffon from the back of the gown and then cut a few thin strips from the sturdier crepe material that made up the base of the gown. I used the strips as ties to braid and bind my hair around my head. I layered the chiffon panels together for better coverage and wound them around my head like a scarf. I hoped that would conceal my hair sufficiently.

  I took a nutrition bar and water tube from my backpack. Though I didn’t feel hungry, I knew I needed to eat and drink and forced myself to finish both. I put the trash back into my pack, then removed the stunner and slipped it into the hip pocket of my jeans. I wanted easy access to the weapon if I needed to use it.

  I opened the door just a crack and listened for any sounds indicating I was no longer alone. When I heard only silence, I moved out into the main store area and made my way to the front doors. The street outside was deserted when I slipped out of the store and headed out in search of information.

  I found a public square only a few blocks away. Like most public areas, this one included a holo display playing news broadcasts. A small crowd surrounded the display, everyone gathering close to hear the most recent news. Most people looked shocked. A few were crying as they watched the attractive young woman delivering the news. I sidled close enough to hear as the holo image of the newscaster looked out at me, her polished brown skin and softly waving black hair gleaming beneath the unseen studio lights. Her voice was somber and her eyes full of sadness as she spoke.

  “Grim news still emerging from the White House in the wake of last night’s tragedy. The death toll continues to climb as searchers comb the house and grounds for more victims of the attempted invasion. Confirmed dead include the American, Mexican, and Canadian governors, as well as the visiting staff who traveled with the territorial governors for this informal summit with President Walker. Additional identified casualties are several members of the White House staff and many members of the president’s elite security force, who were on the front lines of the assault. As we reported last night, President Walker was killed in the attack before NAA forces were able to retake control of the White House. The Commander-General of the NAA military, General Duchéne, was gunned down as she directed mech soldiers to subdue the enemy combatants. First Lady Poppy Walker remains unaccounted for at this time.”

  The newscaster paused and touched her earpiece, indicating without words that she was receiving updated information. After a moment she continued smoothly. “Goodland News47 has just learned that our new president, Cruz Rodriguez, is about to address the nation. We take you now to the South Lawn of the White House for those remarks.”

  The holo faded to black for a moment and then the familiar image of the South Lawn faded into view instead. Cruz stood behind a flag-draped podium at the edge of the reflecting pool. I’d always loved that spot; it was the perfect spot to sit and read a good book and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. Cruz would often join me there, and we would talk for hours about politics, family, and the world in general.

  Was he plotting against us all that time, I wondered? Had he ever been our friend at all or only been biding his time until he could take control? I supposed I would never know. But the good memories of our times together had all turned bitter now. I would never be able to think happily of that spot again.

  Cruz looked very impressive as he stood tall behind the podium. I sneered since I happened to know that he was actually not particularly tall. I supposed they had lowered the podium to make him look bigger and more imposing. His dark suit was perfectly tailored and pressed, but he had left his tie just a bit loose and his hair slightly disheveled, probably to give the appearance that he had been working and worrying frantically. He reinforced that impression by running a hand through his hair and scrubbing it briefly over his face before squaring his shoulders and turning to the camera.

  “My fellow citizens,” he began, “it is with a very heavy heart that I address you today. As you know by now, the White House was attacked by an anonymous paramilitary force last night at approximately 6:00 p.m. Because this force had sabotaged our control of the mech soldiers who guard the outer boundaries of the White House property, they were able to gain access to the White House itself. They were heavily armed with dangerous banned weapons and were able to overpower the security forces within the White House.”

  “I was in a meeting with General Duchéne at that time, and when she realized what was happening, she immediately attempted to send mechs to contain the situation and protect the president. This is when we realized the command center for the mechs had been hacked, rendering them unresponsive to the crisis. As I have some small skill in computer programming,” Cruz had advanced degrees in computer science and robotics, “I immediately attempted to regain control of our mech forces. Unfortunately, I was not able to work fast enough to save our beloved President Walker.”

  Cruz looked down at his hands clenched on the edges of the podium and seemed to be choking back sobs. After a moment he raised his head again, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I lost my closest friend and confidant. I will miss him every single day. And I can only tell you that I will do all I can to continue the good work he has done for this country. I will continue his legacy of peace and prosperity.”

  He was very convincing, I thought, watching him with a cynical eye. Anyone who had not seen him in that library would have no doubt of his grief and sincerity. If I had not known the truth I was sure I would have been at his side, clutching his hand for comfort and promising to carry on my father’s work. I fought down the rage that made me want to howl and scream and break everything in sight, almost panting with effort by the time I regained control of my emotions. I had been so focused on my outrage that I had missed part of the speech as Cruz continued.

  “…was able to direct the mechs to capture the enemy soldiers and sequester them in the White House Ballroom. The plan was to take them all into custody and question them for more details about this plot and the people behind it. Unfortunately, rather than let their soldiers be questioned, one of the rebels turned the entire operation into a suicide mission. He had evaded capture by the mechs and was able to kill General Duchéne and order the ballroom mechs to kill every enemy combatant confined in the ballroom. He then killed himself to evade capture.”

  “While we will pursue this investigation with every resource at our command, no one is claiming responsibility for the at
tack at this time. We urge any citizen with information about this plot to come forward immediately. Even the smallest detail could help us learn more about the purpose of this act of violence and the people behind it.

  “Finally, I have one last thing to share. As we were unable to locate Poppy Walker among the dead or wounded, we had held out hope that she had somehow escaped the awful events of last evening. Unfortunately, Poppy’s body was discovered earlier this morning, another victim of this savage attack.” Now he let tears run unashamedly down his cheeks as he continued.

  “She was a shining light and an example of the best this country had to offer. I loved her like my own child, and I will do whatever is necessary to learn exactly what happened to her and exact the vengeance deserved. So help me, God, nothing will stop me.”

  Seeming to break down at this point, Cruz abruptly turned and strode away from the podium. An aide stepped in to offer some closing remarks and assure the public that everything was under control and the government would continue to function normally during this terrible time as the visual faded away to be replaced with a view of two flag-draped caskets on a raised dais. Text scrolling below the caskets informed us that services for President Walker and Poppy Walker would be held the next morning. The public was welcome to attend and pay their respects.

  My blood ran cold. Cruz had obviously decided that I was a threat to him. By declaring me dead already, he made it easier to kill me quietly. When I disappeared forever, no one would know that I had not died in the original assault.

  I couldn’t go to any of my friends for help. Who would believe that the man who cried as he vowed vengeance for my death was actually my greatest danger? I had already done all I dared by sending the messages to Letty and her father. Anything more would lead Cruz right to me and make a target of anyone I contacted for help.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I was sure that I had to get out of Goodland. I needed to be further out of Cruz’s reach so I could think and plan to bring him down.

  I walked away from the news broadcast, which had moved on to a story about overpriced goods at the organic markets in the farming district. I decided to head back to the old pharmacy for the time being while I worked out my next move. I was moving fast and had almost reached safety when I turned the corner and tripped right over the feet of a mech soldier patrolling the streets. I stumbled to my knees and the fall jarred the slippery chiffon headscarf loose. It slipped backward on my head, revealing the bright color of my hair for a few seconds before I snatched it back into place and darted away. I knew that someone sat in a control room operating the mechs in this area and saw through the mechs’ eyes via a bank of monitors. I could only hope that the operator had not gotten a clear view of my face in those few moments that I had looked up at the mech soldier.

  I slipped inside the empty store and hid at the back of the room behind the rows of shelving. I waited for several long minutes, but there was no sign of pursuit. I had just started to hope that I had not been identified when I heard the innocent tinkle of a bell triggered by the opening of the front door.

  I froze, listening hard to figure out who had entered, and heard the sound I’d most dreaded. It was the click-whir-thump of a mech soldier walking into the room.

  My mind raced as the mech began scanning the room. I tried to think of everything my father had ever told me about the mechs. Mechs had very little autonomy. So back at the control center someone was telling this mech to enter the pharmacy and look around. Whether they had an idea that I would be here or were just doing a search of every building in the area didn’t really matter at this point. If it found me, I was in deep trouble.

  Mechs were big. Humanoid-shaped, they were six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in battle armor. Helmets with smoked-glass visors covered their heads, eliminating the need for a face. The designers had sacrificed heft for speed, so the mech armor was a super-light carbon-fiber alloy and the mechs were surprisingly light for their size. But that built-in armor was virtually impenetrable, and the stunners they carried would paralyze an enemy instantly. The stunners could also kill, if the mechs had orders to do so. And the mechs were strong enough to break a person in half, even without a stunner.

  Mechs had long arms that could move very quickly and they could spin 360 degrees at the waist to keep a target in sight. They couldn’t run especially quickly on those mechanical legs, but then again, they didn’t generally need to. Long arms and a long-distance stunner really took care of that small difficulty.

  Mechs did have a hard time walking across broken or uneven terrain. A situation likely to involve obstacles on the ground was usually tackled with tank-mechs: mechs with wide, rolling treads instead of legs and feet. This was a walking mech, so my best bet was to knock things into its way as I ran like lightning to get out of reach of those long arms. I would have to zigzag, duck, and pray that the mech wouldn’t be able to target me long enough to hit me with the stunner.

  I could hear the mech clunking closer. In a matter of moments it would reach the end of the row of shelves and see me in the corner. I eased my way down the aisle and around the corner. Using the shelves as cover, I stood pressed against the solid end piece so that I couldn’t be seen by the mech now making its way toward the break room door. At each aisle crossing, I peeked carefully around the end of the shelves to be sure the mech was not there to see me and then dashed across the exposed space to hide behind the next end piece.

  After a dozen tiny sprints, I had almost reached the exit. I just had to make it from this last shelf to the door. Once I was on the street I would run for my life and hope to lose myself in a crowd. I sure hoped there was a crowd out there somewhere close.

  I looked back one last time to be sure that the mech hadn’t come around the corner, then burst from behind the shelf and raced for the door at top speed. And that’s when I crashed into the second mech, which had apparently been standing quietly near the door the whole time.

  I believe I mentioned that mechs were fairly light-weight for their size? A walking mech in full armor weighed about 100 pounds. I myself was not exactly a light-weight, despite my small size. I’m not sharing any numbers, but suffice it to say that I had never been referred to as skinny. I had a lot of curves; mostly in the right places, I might add. But I worked out with my father regularly and he was a hard trainer. Lifting weights, running, and practicing my hand-to-hand fighting skills for a couple of hours every day meant that I also had a lot of hard muscle under those curves.

  So when I slammed into the mech at top speed, there was a decent amount of weight and force behind the jolt. We both crashed to the floor and laid there, stunned. I recovered first and scrambled to my feet as the mech attempted to get to its feet. Turtle-like, the mech couldn’t seem to right itself after falling on its back.

  I heard the other mech heading toward me and did the only thing I could think of. I jumped at the empty shelf in front of me, attempting to knock it over. I was astonished when the shelf fell and created the chain reaction I had been hoping for. Each shelf crashed into the next in line and knocked it over as well. It worked exactly as it had in the old cartoon that had inspired my move.

  The mech was brought to the ground and pinned by the crashing shelves. I knew the mech was too strong to be trapped for long, so I ran for the door again. I was almost there when a metal hand suddenly grabbed me by the ankle and yanked my feet out from under me. I belly-flopped to the floor with a startled shriek, then started kicking madly to free my foot from the mech’s grip.

  The mech was pulling me backward. I tore my fingernails to the quick grabbing at the door, the tiled floor, and pieces of fallen shelving in an attempt to hold myself back. It wasn’t working, and I slid slowly closer to the mech. I could hear the mech at the back of the store trying to get loose from the pile of shelves. I didn’t have much of a chance against a single mech; but once the second one was here, I would have no chance at all.

  Abruptly, I stopped fi
ghting the mech’s pull. My sudden lack of resistance sent me flying toward the mech and my outstretched feet crashed into the visor. The glass cracked and fell to the floor, revealing the mech’s face. I choked on a laugh as I saw that the mech’s designer must have had a sense of humor. The face behind the visor was designed to look like a Cyberman from the classic television series ‘Doctor Who.’ Since the mechs never removed their helmets for anyone to see this face, the design must have been a private joke. As a die-hard Doctor Who fan, I had to admit that it was pretty funny, but this really wasn’t the time to appreciate the prank.

  However, the design did spark an idea. The mech was too strong; I was never going to break its grip and fight it off. But I remembered an episode of Doctor Who in which the Cybermen were defeated by an energy weapon that scrambled their circuits. I was hoping that a blast of electricity from the stunner in my pocket might have the same effect. I yanked the stunner from my pocket and flipped the switch to turn it on full power and then threw myself forward.

  The prongs of the stunner contacted the metal surface of the mech’s face and a shock of electricity lit up the air around us. My hand spasmed as the jolt of electricity shot through my fingers and I dropped the stunner. Luckily, it had already done its work and the mech had gone limp and still, releasing its grip on my ankle.

  I grabbed the stunner, scrambled to my feet, and darted for the door once again. This time I made it and burst out the door onto the street. It was completely deserted. No help in sight, but no witnesses to tell the authorities which way I’d gone, either. I pulled the cloths – dislodged during my struggle with the mechs – back up to cover my too-distinctive hair as I tried to decide what to do next. Unfamiliar with the area, I didn’t know which way to go. I just knew I had to get moving before the second mech got free or reinforcements arrived. I turned right for no particular reason and dodged into the alley beside the drugstore in order to get off the empty, exposed street.