Protector of Men Ch 34
"No," she shouted at his lifeless body, "It's not real!"
Cover wasn't sure what to do. Stephen was gone, and at any moment the agents could come back to finish the job. He tentatively put a consoling hand on Zandra's shoulder, but it didn't work as he expected it to. She shoved him away fiercely – Cover stumbled backwards, struggling to stay upright.
"No," she shouted louder, "Stephen!" She held his hand tighter against her chest, but he did not respond. The blood had long stopped running from his poor injured vessel.
"It's not real!" she screamed, shaking his arm. Cover couldn't watch it any longer.
"Zandra," he told her, "We should go."
She collapsed onto his immobile body and sobbed. "Don't go, don't go," she repeated, over and over into his bloody chest. But he didn't respond; he was already gone. It was over.
It was truly over before it even started. She heard footsteps approaching, and only then did she pull herself away from Stephen. His body.
Two agents were walking briskly over to where Zandra and Cover stood. It was Brown and Jones, but they were not speaking. As they grew closer, they both pulled out their guns. Cover prepared himself, but Zandra did nothing. They wouldn't shoot her now.
"Zandra," he warned. She still did nothing, was still staring mindlessly at Stephen's unmoving cadaver. Someone would pay for Stephen's death, and that was the only thing on her mind.
They began to shoot at her, both emptying their clips. But they didn't injure her. Zandra wouldn't allow it. Cover merely watched in wonder as the bullets slowed to a stop before her and bounced to the ground. Shot after shot was ineffective, falling to the cobblestone ground. She had done it. She was the One. Cover watched in amazement; Zandra hadn't even realized the line she had crossed. Everything was quiet, and Zandra was surrounded by a shower of bullets that lay like rice on the ground. She had done it; she had finally taken complete control. She stood with teary eyes, looking up to the sky as if looking for an answer, as Stephen lay in a pool of blood next to her.
She looked down at the mess of ammunition when the agents ran out of bullets, then to the agents. For a moment, everyone was silent and unmoving, but only for a second. The next thing Cover saw were the agents running for the hills. The agents had been defeated. Cover's mind was going in circles: She was the One.
He sighed a breath of relief – their immediate danger was long gone, now that the agents had left.
"Let's go," he started, walking towards her, "While we have the chance."
Zandra was still looking down at the ground. The bullets looked so harmless on the ground – how could they have killed anyone? They were just wasted trash, waiting to be picked up and thrown away by some unknowing coppertop. "I'm not leaving," she said in a dark voice.
"We have to go," he told her again, reaching for her shoulder.
"No!" she suddenly screamed, "I'm not going!"
And she ran away from him.
Cover was left alone with Tevy's body, and had no idea what to do. So he called up Kesia.
"Where did she go?" he asked, waiting for a reponse. It took her a minute, and she sounded very strange when she did.
"I don't know," she managed, "Her code's all screwed up."
"We need to get Tevy out," he told her. He heard Kesia sigh loudly.
"Colombus should be getting out soon," she answered slowly, "I think she'll want to take him."
So Cover left the matrix, having lost not only one, but two members of the rebellion. No one said a word to him once he was back, but they were all watching the falling code, searching for a sign of Zandra. By all accounts, she had completely disappeared.
He waited a moment before getting back out of his chair. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what they had to tell him. Not yet. But he still got up.
Kesia was watching him warily from her operator's seat. Things were not looking good: Tevy was dead, and Zandra was refusing to jack out. Four other pairs of eyes also peered out from the room's corners, silently asking him for direction. As of then, he had none to give.
Kesia turned back to the computers.
"I think I see her," she said after a moment, her face only inches away from the screen.
"Where?"
"Looks like the Oracle's door."
Shade couldn't stay quiet any longer: "Should we go in?"
"No," came Cover's resolute reply, "She'll have to come back on her own."
Shade didn't agree, but said nothing. It was one thing to silently disagree with his captain, but a completely different thing to voice it. So Shade simmered and joined the rest of the crew as they watched the code for Zandra.
She pounded against the door, but there was no response. No answer came, and Zandra was left banging hopelessly against the wooden door. She had to know, she fumed, her pounds becoming more violent, she could have helped them! By now she had lost hope of anyone opening the door.
Zandra stopped her beating and sized up her wooden opponent. If they wouldn't let her in, she'd fight her way in. She pooled her energy, and kicked the door, letting it swing on its hinges before pushing it open.
But the Oracle wasn't there.
"She's just standing there." Kesia turned to Cover, who was behind her, watching the code intermittently. He sighed, and took a closer look. Everyone else stood where they were, stunned. How could this have happened?
Zandra was angry. If the Oracle was going to hide, she'd find Neo instead. Someone would pay. And though she wasn't anywhere near the place where she had met him last, she still would search. Maybe Neo would find her if she made it obvious that she needed him.
"Neo," she shouted into the sky as loud as she could. There was no response after a minute or so of waiting.
"Come on," she shouted aloud, her frustration rising. She would not leave without finding out who was responsible for Stephen. His death…
Her lip began to tremble, and the floodgates were finally broken. His death echoed in her mind. Killed. She couldn't believe that he was gone – that she had failed him in the irreparable situation of death. He was dead, and it was too late to save him. Her friend – no - more than that, was gone.
No, she had to stay strong. To avenge him.
"Neo!" she shouted, wondering if he would hear her. She could recall Emory telling her that he would find her if she wanted him. But Neo was nowhere to be seen.
Zandra looked about her in the desolate town. She was suddenly surprised that no agents had come to counter her. But that didn't matter, she then decided, she needed to find Neo. If he hadn't told her to see the Oracle, Stephen wouldn't be dead. Zandra was still looking for vengeance, and the blame had to be placed somewhere.
"She's looking for the informant?"
Kesia looked closer before answering.
"It looks like it," she replied, still watching the code.
Alias inched towards the screens, suddenly interested in something.
"Where are the agents?" she asked, wheeling her chair as close as she could.
"Hm," Kesia wondered aloud, scanning each of the screens in turn, "I can't see them anywhere."
"They may have decided to keep their distance," Cover postulated. Kesia could neither confirm nor deny his theory.
"What's that?" asked Alias, nearly toppling out of her chair as she pointed towards one of the screens. Alias steadied herself again as the rest of the crew watched the screens with a mixture of fascination and trepidation.
Zandra was back on the street, desperate for an answer, for contact…
"Neo!" she shouted at the sky, "Neo!"
It seemed hopeless. Zandra was worried that she'd have to go back to Purgatory, act as if nothing had happened, pretend that she was ok, that she wasn't dying inside as Stephen's inert body lay in the Mayflower, waiting to be interred somewhere in a vault...
There was no answer. Zandra let her hands fall to her sides with a resounding smack: her search was proving useless. Just like her. If she had only been firmer, faster, better…
She heard footsteps behind her and instantly turned around. But she hadn't expected the person greeting her.
"I hear you're looking for a Neo," the man said, taking off his dark sunglasses. Zandra saw him grimace at the mention of the name. He was wearing a suit and tie, and had the same general appearance of the agents Zandra had so often encountered. But she had a feeling that this was no agent. He wore no earpiece, nor the smirk that Brown and Jones regularly wore.
"I'll let you know," he continued, taking a step closer, "I've been looking for him for a quite a time." He looked down on the ground, and crushed a spider crawling past them. He smiled.
"I'm sure you won't mind assisting."
