Chapter 2
Droplets of rain fanned outwards towards the sides of the windscreen as the taxicab hushed smoothly down the expressway. Erin Todd and Wayne Young sat stiffly in the backseats, not speaking, too sick with niggling anxiety. Young, who sitting in the rear left seat, stared at the back of the taxi driver's head, counting the flakes of dandruff. Young's hands rested between his legs that jiggled up and down as he fidgeted tensely. Erin stared out of the right side window at the other cars that overtook on the slick yellow-lit road surface. In the distance the tall diamond tipped skyscrapers stood firmly, stabbing into the blanket of rain clouds with their sharp spires. Erin's mind was racing as she half listened to the blurb of music that pumped out of the driver's radio. The drive was taking longer than expected.
The taxicab followed the curve of the multi-lane carriageway, hugging to the inside of the concrete separator that was pin cushioned with Y-shaped road lamps. They were heading into the heart of Manhattan. The taxicab took the next turn off the expressway and drove down into the depths of the frenzied streets.
The cab passed a mass group rioting civilians who were destroying a huge department store. Flames licked up the frames of the huge floor-to-ceiling display windows as the silhouettes of at least fifty people danced insanely in the glow. The store's windows had been ram-raided; the vehicle's rear end was still sticking out of one of the windows where it had gotten stuck in one of the window displays. The overhanging concrete canopy that extended out of the side of the building was scarred with streaky black soot from the fires. A thick plume of toxic dirty brown smoke rolled out from underneath it like the inside of a tidal wave. A web of stringy smoke poured out of the glowing window frames of the shop front and crawled up the tall building side like a mass of tree roots. The smoke circulated the tall building, winding around like a constricting snake, as the strong winds that built up between the buildings ejected them into the sky. The potent smell of the burning store filtered through the air conditioning of the taxicab as the driver carried on past the carnage. He cursed as the paper-thin ash that blew across the street covered the windscreen in a blizzard of grey spots.
The city of New York was spiralling into deeper chaos. Walton Simons, Head of FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) had taken control over UNATCO and declared martial law, effectively blocking off all exits in and out of New York, public schools and services had been cancelled until things calmed down. The public taxis had completely stopped but civilians who were trying to make a few quick credits had converted their vehicles into civil-taxis taking their place, not exactly trust worthy but nothing was.
"You can stop here." Young said breaking the uneasy silence.
"Okay buddy." the driver replied pulling into the curb. The car slowed to a stop, Erin opened the door and stepped out into the wet night air, she turned and faced the taxi to see Young paying the driver. He got out of the opposite door and the taxi pulled away wheels splattering in the muddy pothole puddles. Erin's face had lost its usual rosiness; fear was blanketing her usual bubbly nature. Young gave her a half-hearted smile and winked; she replied with a shaky smile and crossed over to the pavement embedding her head into Young's chest.
"It'll be fine, once we escape the States." Young reassured her as they embraced on the sidewalk. He kissed her on her forehead and pulled her up off the curb.
"We must get going and find Decker, we're behind schedule."
Erin slipped her arm under Young's arm and they walked linked together down the darkened rain drenched streets. Young placed one hand in his long coat pocket and grasped his sidearm.
The expressway buzzed in the distance like a restless hive as the two lovers passed the rows of tall corporative skyscrapers and financial buildings. The clouds of smoke from fires spread across the skyline of the city boundaries in widening diagonal columns. The rain started again, in downpours of frequent showers, the excess water making the air feel colder than it was. Erin still holding on to Young whispered, "They'll eventually find us. They found the commanders; they won't give up until they find us all."
Young stopped and looked deeply into her hazel eyes, hiding behind her stringy unwashed fringe. He recalled their first meeting and how he used his cheesy charm to try and chat her up.
"Decker will make sure our tracks are well covered. There's no way they can locate us. Remember we know the system as well as anyone else. We worked for them after all." He held her tight at arms length "We'll be safe." Young said reassuringly.
"I hope your right, I really do…" she whispered. The heavens opened once again, pounding the earth with thousands of raindrops. The rain bombarded the pavement, pattering like hundreds of drumming unsynchronised footsteps. Droplets bounced off Young's waterproof brown coat racing and twisting down his broad shoulders.
They were now on the corner of 51st Street; it was surprisingly quiet and empty. Many victims of the Grey Death were confined to their apartments, barricaded in by FEMA and UNATCO squadrons. Whole businesses had shut down due to the lack of healthy workers. It was one depression after the other.
A few burnt out vehicles lay across the road; some had banked up onto the curb and were sprawled out on the cracked pavement. As Young walked images of the fierce fighting between UNATCO and the NSF flashed into his mind. He had seen many brave men, many friends, die in front of him. He had witnessed the slaughter of the NSF in Hell's Kitchen. He, himself only just about escaped from the UNATCO assault, escaping through one of the empty storage warehouses in the Warehouse District. Many of the NSF were forced to fight street to street taking refuge anywhere, apartment blocks, local shops, hotels, anywhere they could find.
UNATCO had sent in their "peacekeepers", which included the mechanically augmented agents. Young had witnessed one of these "mechs" operate, how it relentlessly pounded the NSF with awesome power. The "mech" Young had seen was more like a machine limited with organic parts than a human being augmented with mechanisms. What was once a MAN, had now become an IT, stomping around under a mass of mechanical augmentations, its legs were probably only increased to carry the huge bulk of machine parts. It seemed to have let go of its human side as it eliminated the NSF troopers as if the were vermin. Young shook head free of the horrendous images he had locked away and crossed the road.
Whilst Decker had to construct all the security grids for the NSF bases like the Osgood and Sons Imports Warehouse and NSF Headquarters in Hell's Kitchen, Young was out in the field with Commander Grimaldi's men trying to give the NSF some more time to get the Ambrosia vaccine safely out of New York City and the U.S. Decker had not witnessed any of the violence. He had seen nothing…
The smell was repulsive. Deep down in the dank, dark, dismal sewage drains, Decker worked quickly on the laser grid motion detectors. The drips from the condensation echoed around the algae covered brick tunnels. Decker felt safe even though other people would feel alone and vulnerable in the darkness. He could hear the other NSF members down in the distance, installing the cameras, drilling holes in the old discoloured bricks. With the overhead lantern directly above him, glaring bright and white, Decker clipped the thin plastic wires to the pointing between the brickwork and connected them to the electronic control panel.
Decker walked down the long circular sewers, checking that all the surveillance cameras and autonomous defence turrets were in their correct positions. As he walked he sloshed through the small stream of stagnant water that had pooled together in the centre of the tubular sewage. The other NSF members were busy rolling out metres of wire on small drums. They were dressed in long black mackintoshes and wore shiny black waterproof waders underneath.
The small lights that ran along the roof of the circular sewage drain flickered on and off, years of algae and waste had stained them a dirty brown so the light was dim. Decker carried his small laptop under his arm and passed the working NSF members, descending the small grimy maintenance ladder. There was an NSF member laying some bricks to seal the underground entrance. Decker smiled to him as his feet touched the ground.
"Just doing some final security checks." Decker said to the squatting man.
"Okay. Just hurry up or I'll have to brick you in down here." He chuckled. Decker was in a grumpy mood and smiled half heartily; he said an insult directed the man, quietly inside his head. Decker carefully stepped over the knee-high wall and carried on around the cesspool. There was a massive pipe protruding out of the far wall it snaked its way across the room. Decker climbed the other maintenance ladder and made sure the sewer drain cover was immovable. He then walked backed and checked that the underwater pipe grate cover was locked. Everything was secure.
"Could you pass this on to Commander Frase when you see him please?" Decker asked politely, but still in a foul mood.
"Yeah, whatever, just drop it by the ladder." The man said not even looking up at Decker. Decker sucked the stale air through his tightly clenched teeth. He was not angry with the workers who were helping him set up security, he was angry with JoJo Fine.
JoJo was a NSF colonel. Decker always wondered how, the man was a street punk with an "I'm a badass" attitude. He was a pimp-gangster in Hell's Kitchen, tattooed and pierced all over his body. Decker knew the NSF only hired him because if need be, he could get things done, he was connected to the "right" people. The NSF had put him in charge of the National Secessionist Forces around the Lower East Side of the Manhattan area. This gave him a lot of responsibility but that did not stop him from being one of the biggest, arrogant, bastards Decker had met. JoJo was not bothered about defence and security; he just wanted to kill UNATCO troopers so he could get on with pimpin' sexy ladies and getting high off Zyme. He was a liability.
Decker left the small datacube with the bricklaying worker who was now laying a new level. The message on the datacube read:
"Commander Frase:
I've completed the initialisation of the warehouse perimeter security grids with the login and password you requested; these codes will work for both grids. I'll set up internal warehouse security measures next - I don't really trust JoJo to do the job right."
The fresh air was a blessing to Decker's lungs as he re-entered the Osgood And Sons Imports Warehouse via the basement. Decker threw off his thick red rubber gloves and unbuttoned the top of his rubber waders letting them drop around his ankles. Decker slipped out off his waterproof boots and stood on the cold floor in his grey woolly socks. He folded the pile of clothes over his arm and proceeded to the canteen. The mobile home sized generator that dominated the base of the warehouse hummed noisily. There were a few thunderous crackles as small bolts of electricity jumped across the electrodes that sat on the top of two spires.
Decker strolled into the small canteen next to the toilets, there were four picnic tables centred in the room, on one table sat a NSF member with his back to Decker. He was feeding two black muscular Doberman dogs. The dogs sat obediently as their master dangled rashers of bacon in front of their salivating mouths. One of the Dobermans whimpered and shuffled closer it was told to sit back down, which it did immediately. The man chuckled in amusement then threw to bacon onto the floor. He sucked the grease from his fingers and swivelled around on the seat.
"Oh hi! I'm Killian, please err…take a seat." He said wiping his hands down his combat trousers. The man was quite short but a stocky build, his sleeves were rolled up showing of a montage of tattoos. The Dobermans lay beside him, their silky black coats shimmering in the overhead lights.
"Been training 'em since they were six weeks old, guard dogs ya see. The other dogs come from a local scrap yard, but these two, they're my own." Decker smiled and sat opposite Killian who carried on eating a bacon and sausage sandwich drenched in brown sauce. This reminded Decker that he had not eaten yet. He looked at the variety of junk food that was displayed in the two vending machines; it was either chocolate bars or a packet of crisps. "A wonderful variety of flavours, for an, "acquired" taste." He thought sarcastically.
"So what d'ya do? You don't look like the "fighting" type" He chuckled heartily "Oh sorry… I don't even know your name yet." Killian laughed again, and then proceeded to bite into the soggy bread, splattering his uniform with splodges of sauce.
"That's because I never told you my name." Decker muttered. He was fatigued and not in the mood to deal with "sloppy" eaters and "killer" dogs.
"I am Decker Parkes. I work with the security team." Decker mumbled watching the blob of sauce collect on the man's chin. Killian sucked the sauce from his bottom lip and used his forearm to wipe his chin.
"Security? Really? Man, rather be out in the field than stuck in places like this. No offence." Killian apologised.
"None take…" Decker was cut off.
"I help with the unloading of equipment and armaments, but also I am called out in the field now and then, I used to be in the United States Army. Are you an ex-service man?" Killian enquired.
"No I err…used to work for…" Decker wavered he could not have said the truth, Majestic Twelve, he felt it more appropriate to lie and say "…a security equipment suppliers."
"Oh…" Killian exclaimed trying to sound interested.
"Yeah, oh…" Decker mumbled. "Want anything?" Decker asked rising from his seat and walking over to the food vending machine.
"Err…No I am okay buddy, just ate." Killian answered. "I think I'll go show the dogs around the place, to get them used to it." Killian rose from his seat and the two Dobermans rose with him. He wrapped the two thick chain leads around his muscular forearms and walked the dogs out of the canteen. "See ya 'round." Killian called as he pulled the dogs back on their leads to slow them to a controlled walking pace.
"Yeah see ya." Decker called back, the chocolate bar fell heavily in machine and popped out onto the small tray. Decker reached down and untangled the chocolate bar and his hand from the annoying flapping guard.
Decker stirred and woke from his nap, his eyes rolled back into position and he repeatedly blinked to remove the sleepy film from his blurry eyes. He stretched his arms back and pushed himself down the small bed, he let out and niggled groan as he got a rush of blood to his head as his muscles re-relaxed. Decker sat up on the bed and rubbed his sore eyes removing the dry flakes that stuck his eyelashes together. He threw his legs off the bed and sat facing the computer, no new messages. Why was it taking so long? Time was precious; Decker knew that Majestic Twelve had known about his involvement with the National Secessionist Forces, The NSF. Time was running out, if only they had not been discovered at the airfield, all three of them, Erin, Wayne, and Decker could have made it out of the country easier, now they were all relying on one man Decker had only met once. A man simply know as Smuggler, known for arms dealing but for the right price he could make "special" arrangements. Although at this very moment, Decker had started doubting if Smuggler would live up to his name.
Decker got up off the bed, walked across the cold carpeted floor and into the bathroom. He lifted the toilet seat up and urinated into the bowel. After flushing the toilet Decker washed his hands and took to staring into the mirror again. He opened the small cabinet door that was by the sink and took out a small white container. He popped off the cap and shook the contents out on to his palm. His heart medication. Carvedilol, it was a beta-blocker, four years ago Decker had been classed with LVD or Left Ventricular Dysfunction.
Decker placed one of the oval tablets on his tongue and swallowed it; he then bent down and sucked the water from the tap spout. He needed to take one tablet everyday, it slowed down his heart, helping it pump more efficiently; meaning the overall circulation of oxygen-rich blood around the body improved. There were though, dramatic side effects such as faintness, weight gain and drowsiness.
Before Decker knew it his head was resting on the keyboard of his personal computer terminal. He never even heard the key turn in the lock of his front door. He never heard the lock click open as the cylindrical bolt retreated into the door. He never even heard the echoing footsteps approach from down the corridor.
The door shuffled open, sticking to the lumpy carpet. Decker had visitors, and he was not even aware.