22. Name, Rank, and Serial Number
Alec had been dreaming, something ugly and terrifying. He was glad to be awake. He felt somewhat steadier. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Cindy?" he said. "What are you doing here?" Cindy had never been to his place before.
OC jumped back. "Stay there!" she said sharply. She seemed scared. He couldn't imagine why.
"Don't touch me," she said.
"Okay," he said cautiously. He would never touch OC. She ought to know that. In fact, he was very fond of her. He thought she was lively and pretty, and a good friend to Max.
"You've been acting bad," she said. "I don't know why. I don't care. Now I'm going to tell you a story, so pay attention. You're going to pull yourself together. My girl has got herself in a big mess of trouble, and you have to go rescue her."
By the light of his Mini Mag, Logan consulted the map. He drove a bit further, and then checked it again. If he was right, the stronghold was just over the hill, through the trees. He pulled over, wishing he had some cover for his car. He hung a camera and a press pass around his neck, then checked his gun, jacking a shell into the chamber. He opened the door, and put one foot on the ground.
"Freeze," someone said, without inflection. Logan glanced sideways, and saw the muzzle pressed against his cheek. Well, that's about the way things have been going, he thought. Letting the pistol dangle uselessly from his index finger, Logan put up his hands.
Max was frightened. She'd awoken strapped to an examining table. At least she was fully clothed, for which she was deeply grateful. She'd had a bad moment when she noticed the stirrups. Her wound, as painful as an open fracture, had been dressed by a taciturn medic. He had taken her vitals, noting her increased pulse and respiration. He recorded her blood pressure, and listened to her secondhand heart. She knew he would advise them on her physical breaking point. No point in torturing someone if they were going to die before giving up their secrets. They hadn't injected her with any chemicals, not yet. That would come later, when she was tired, and hurting so bad, it would seem like sweet relief. She'd have no idea what they were asking her, or what she was telling them in return.
Her pupils were dilated. The medic shined a light in her eyes, and asked her some questions. She ignored him. She was busy. In her head, she was cutting off pieces of herself and hiding them. She wanted to be far, far away when the hurting started.
Alec raided his stash, and put together some gear. He had to travel light, so he only took five knives, two for his wrist sheathes, two for his boots, and a folding utility knife. He got out his best rifle, a reconditioned SVD. While he was looking in his drawer for a pair of clean socks, he found an old PS2 pistol, and he packed it for backup. It was just a street gun, and not very reliable. He added a fully functional Ruger KP97, which he intended to give to Max, because it was really light. He packed his garrote, and what grenades he had on hand, including a few of the black market Chinese prismatics. They were mostly useless, but in a pinch could take the place of flash grenades. He added a coil of rope, because you never know.
Down the block, he liberated a car from some Metal Heads. "Out you go," he said pleasantly, flashing the Ruger. They took off into the night, like scared little bunnies.
He was wearing a night stalker outfit, all-black camo, very cool, complete with gloves and a watch cap that rolled down into a mask.
He found if he concentrated really hard, he could keep his mind on the task at hand. It helped that the world was dark and peaceful. He reached the checkpoint, and was mildly surprised to find it unmanned. He didn't slow down. There was no need. The highway was a rich, black river, filled with promises. He sped along, happy to finally be mobilizing. He was looking forward to the action.
To be continued. . .