Three black SUVs were waiting at Denver International Airport when Wild Bill landed the chopper. The Blackhawk looked out of place on the tarmac of the commercial hub amid large passenger jets that sat parked, waiting to load and unload passengers. Three Joes and seven fully equipped assault team members dispersed cleanly to the waiting vehicles and moved out in a train toward the city.
Flint watched the terrain as the caravan traveled along Route 70 toward the city. Radio traffic was kept to a minimum. The briefing had been thorough, and the command center had efficiently presented assault data on the warehouse located off Federal Boulevard. They would hit it hard and fast and hope to hell no curveballs were thrown at them in the process.
He could feel Scarlett watching him as Leatherneck drove them toward Denver. Flint adjusted the straps on his vest, unable to find a comfortable median no matter how hard he tried. His hand slipped into the utility pocket of his BDUs. The lighter was there, secure and solid in his hand. He felt his heart begin to speed up with excitement as they finally neared the warehouse. The SUVs rode up on it like cowboys on horse during a cattle run, three abreast and in a hurry. Flint knew the decrepit state of the outside of the building from the pictures Grace had brought, but seeing it in person gave the word new meaning. Windows panels were broken out in various places, leaving dark gaps in the side that looked like missing teeth to him.
Flint snapped on the pen camera attached to the headset he wore. He keyed the mic on his radio.
"Mainframe, you copy?"
"Loud and clear, Flint."
"How's our video feed?" he asked, panning for good measure.
"You're five by. We're good to go on the support side."
"Copy that," Flint said quietly. Then he nodded at Argyle.
The team moved silently toward the door. The assault team moved in first, so quiet that even their boots were hushed on the broken pavement outside the point of entry. M4s with 203 grenade launchers underneath pointed toward the door as the entry team gathered in order around it, careful to keep barrels pointed downward and fingers off the trigger. Argyle looked to Flint for permission to begin the operation. With a nod, the team burst through the door.
The inside of the warehouse was dank and dark. Water dripped down and pooled on the old concrete, traversing rusted beams high in the air above them. Rats squealed in the far reaches of the area as light stabbed like a knife through the darkness. Flint looked around, trying to determine where to go. He had expected Elwood's operation to be just inside the doors, but what they found was completely opposite. He keyed his radio for Mainframe.
"What the hell are we supposed to find in here?" he hissed quietly.
Mainframe paused. "I don't know, Flint. I thought it was going to be just inside the door."
"Get Grace on the line and find out where we're supposed to go. I feel like we've got targets painted on our backs."
"Stand by," Mainframe said in the earpiece.
Flint looked around again. He ordered the group to fan out, not wanting them clustered and giving Elwood a chance to take out the entire group at once. He walked forward, taking in the scene. His mind kicked into observation mode, trying to think like Elwood. They were both operatives, both in the business of secrecy and hiding large operations. It was not the first time Flint had seen a base hiding in plain sight. As he looked down at the dirty concrete, he saw boot imprints and lines, like wheel tracks. His brain envisioned Suarez being wheeled inside the warehouse, under duress and restrained.
He motioned at Leatherneck and Scarlett to come take a look at the tracks. Leatherneck took the lead, following the trail to a large piece of machinery. Its parts had seized long ago with the destructive effects of water on metal. He stooped down at the edge of the component the size of a small car. The wheel tracks seemed to go under the metal housing. Flint walked to the back of the unit. An arc had been scraped into the concrete away from the machine where the metal had gouged the floor. He looked at Leatherneck and nodded. They had found the entrance.
"Mainframe," Flint said quietly into the radio, "we've found it. The facility is below ground. Get me some info about what's underneath us."
"Copy that, Flint," Mainframe said. "Stand by."
"No time," Flint said in response. "We can't wait. We're on the move. Give me a direction to go once we get down there."
"There's plenty of time to wait, Flint," a voice said loudly from the catwalks high above the assault team.
The reaction was swift from the team as barrels of weapons suddenly pointed upward, looking for targets. They were greeted by barrels pointed right back at them. Flint looked up and saw Deadnoks, Cobra soldiers and the team that had accompanied Elwood to kidnap Suarez. They outnumbered the Joe team almost two-to-one.
"Surprise, surprise," Elwood said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the rails of the catwalk. "You should probably check for surveillance before you sneak up on a building. Might have saved you all this trouble. Then again, maybe you should have just let well enough alone. She's not worth it."
Flint's teeth ground together. "Where is she?"
Elwood rolled his eyes. "Like I'm going to tell you? Please." He clicked his tongue in chastisement. "You really should know better."
Flint kept his rifle trained on Elwood's head. The tri-dot sight was aimed perfectly. He wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and rid the world of the man, but he knew that would be a mistake. There were too many who wanted Elwood alive for questioning. To put him out of his misery would have been too good a favor.
"You know why we're here," Flint answered. "Give her to us, and we'll call this even."
Elwood laughed out loud. "Dude, look around you! You're a little outnumbered. All I have to do is sneeze and you'll be a headline."
"You're batting for the wrong team."
"It's just business, Flint. It was a lucrative deal even you wouldn't have passed up. Besides, you should be enjoying this. Think of it as revenge for your girlfriend getting shot. Suarez will get what's coming to her, I'll be rich, and you'll be able to sleep knowing justice has been served."
Scarlett shook her head. "You're sick."
Elwood shrugged. "Been called worse in my day."
Flint controlled his breathing. "Where is she?" he asked calmly, knowing shouting would get him nowhere.
"I'm giving you the chance to walk away, Flint," Elwood said. "All you have to do is walk away. She's not worth it. You and I know that."
"Not going to happen."
"I'm serious," Elwood warned. "Most of these aren't my boys up here. I can't control what Cobra folks do. It's in their nature to want to puree you with bullets. Me, I'm more sophisticated. I see a higher relationship opportunity here. It would be a shame to let pride ruin that."
Flint looked around him with his eyes. He saw Argyle and his team taking small steps to get into position. Leatherneck and Scarlett were tense, fingers on the triggers of their weapons, each picking targets. They were ready to make the move as soon as Flint gave the signal. Elwood was a liar. There was no way the team was going to leave the warehouse without a fight. Cobra was there with him. They were there in force to capture new prizes other than to just take custody of Suarez.
"You're a traitor, Elwood," Flint accused, buying time for the teams to get into position.
"That's harsh of you. I'm a businessman, Flint. I make deals for the A-Team all the time. Thing is, the B-Team, or should I say C-Team, has just as much to offer me for half the work."
The Dreadnoks snickered at Elwood's joke.
Elwood smiled in appreciation of their grasp of his inference. "All you have to do is walk backward, Flint. Go out the way you came and we all live to fight another day."
Flint looked down at the machine again. He knew he was close. Otherwise, Elwood would not have been so nervous. He did one more check on his team. Each had strategically moved to defensible positions. It would be a hell of a fight. He looked over at Argyle, who had the same idea as Flint. The lieutenant nodded, as if to say he was on the same page. They had come to get Suarez. They were not going to leave empty-handed.
He looked up at Elwood once more and smiled. "I don't think so."
The first volley was issued from Flint's rifle. It knocked Elwood back against the railing of the catwalk but did not cause him to fall. Flint rushed forward to the machine housing and used it for cover. The Cobra contingent rained bullets from above them. Argyle's team responded with full force. The warehouse lit up with multiple flashes from weapons on both sides. He saw Argyle reach up and key the mic earpiece he wore.
"Go for it, sir!" Argyle shouted above the melee. "We'll hold 'em here!"
Flint turned around and, with his back against the housing, pushed with everything he had. The housing moved in the arc he had seen on the floor. He nearly fell into the staircase underneath it. Bright light shown up from the passage, briefly obliterating any detail of what lay beyond the staircase. He dropped down out of the line of fire and brought his rifle up to the ready. He was greeted with more rounds as two of Elwood's guards opened up on him. Flint tumbled down the stairs, trying to regain his orientation. The fall was his salvation. The guards were unable to successfully acquire a moving target. They remained stationary, giving him the perfect marks as he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He squeezed hard on the trigger, feeling the repetitive kick of full auto blowback as he sprayed bullets in their direction. They were knocked to the floor, writhing in pain.
Flint's tunnel vision opened to see what lay beyond the two targets presented to him at the stairs. The room was a large lab. Computer consoles created a maze of obstacles. On the far side was a clean room enclosed by glass. His heart skipped when he realized it was more than a clean room. It was more of a surgical suite. He could see people inside it, looking out the windows at him. They wore surgical garb, sterile gloved hands raised in the air as they watched the events unfold. He could not see beyond them, unable to determine if Suarez was with them. Seven more troopers entered the lab area at the sound of the commotion.
He scrambled forward to one of the computer consoles on hands and knees, leaning up with his back to the faux wood. Flint quickly ejected the spent magazine from the G36. It clattered on the floor as he reached for a replacement, slamming it into the port. He was locked and loaded and ready to go again. The sounds of battle from the warehouse filtered down the stairs. It was an intense exchange of gunfire. His ears picked out the differences in weapons. There was a distinct difference in the rate of fire from enemy weapons versus that of his team. The Joes were using controlled bursts, even single shots, to conserve ammunition and make each round count.
The console was suddenly pelted with a line of fire from the other side of the room. Bits of pressboard rained down on him as he ducked closer to the floor for cover. The sound of gunfire roared in his head as it bounced off the walls of the lab.
He heard the radio traffic of the battle in his ear as Argyle issued orders to his team to attempt a flanking maneuver. Then he heard Leatherneck radio for additional support, only to be told it was inbound but that there would be a delay as troops massed and boarded transports. Flint performed his own flanking maneuver to the next console set, staying low and keeping his head out of target range. He ducked his head around the corner to get a confirmed count of how many were trying to kill him. His brain took a snapshot. He returned to cover and processed what he saw – three to the left, four to the right. They were moving in on him, quickly converging on his position.
He put down his rifle for a moment and unhooked a flashbang from his vest. He grasped the canister with one hand and pulled the pin with the other. Flint lobbed it in the middle of the two packs and closed his eyes. His hands picked up his rifle once more. The blast was sharp in his ears, and the burst of light from the diversion permeated his closed eyes. He had trained endlessly with assault teams in reacting quicker than the enemy could recover from the shock of the tactic. He popped up over the console and lit up on the three approaching from the left. The shots were not the most accurate he had ever fired, but he managed to drop two of the guards before being pushed back by the rest of them. Two of his shots slammed into the windows of the sterile room, giving him a moment of panic that he may have hit Suarez if she were there. It most certainly ruled out the use of a grenade, which would have brought most of the confrontation to an end.
Flint caught movement down the stairs. The guards reacted almost instantly to the new intruder. Flint rose up and provided cover fire as Lifeline dove down the stairs and jockeyed for cover behind the closest console. He scurried to Flint's position, hunkering down low to avoid being hit.
"You gotta stop making friends this way," Lifeline yelled, ducking down suddenly as more chips from the console splintered toward him.
"Now you tell me," Flint said back to him. He rose up and fired off more shots to keep the advancing guards at bay. Three still remained, regrouping and forming a new plan of attack. "How's it going up there?"
"Backup is inbound. Argyle's kids are giving 'em hell. They're holding their own."
Another series of shots zinged over their heads and embedded in the concrete near the staircase. Flint looked at the diagonal pattern they made.
"I've had just about enough of this," he said. He got up and positioned himself to move.
He heard the troopers moving in on their position. Their boots kicked debris out of the way, marking their progress. Flint closed his eyes and listened intently for cues. His mind envisioned the location of the three remaining targets. He clicked the selector on his G36 to full auto and waited for the moment to come.
The first trooper was so close when the bullets struck that blood spattered back at Flint. He ignored the gruesome result and continued firing as the trooper dropped to the floor. The second was already bearing down on Flint, returning fire when he, too, was hit. This time, Flint scored a headshot that immediately eliminated the threat.
The two remaining troopers opened up fully on Flint's position, driving him back behind the console and pinning him down so that he could not move. There was a gap between the consoles that would expose him fully if he tried to go back to his original cover. More rounds spit into the console wood. Flint waited until he could hear them approaching again. He had been trained to use what seemed like an obstacle as a tool, a weapon in battle. The environment was never supposed to be the enemy to the warrior who could master it.
He waited until they closed in on his cover. Then he rolled onto the floor, firing at the legs of the two troopers. He watched as his rounds pounded into the first trooper's shins. He saw bone shatter and eject away from his khakis. The second trooper took a few to the upper thighs, falling backward to the floor. Flint kept firing with abandon, not caring that he kept firing long after they were dead. Gunpowder was in the air in a haze, burning his sinuses as the lab area fell silent. He waited, listening, recovering and slowing his breathing. When he was certain he heard no other movement, he cautiously got to one knee, dropping the empty magazine from the G36 and replacing it with yet another.
The sounds of the battle up in the warehouse had changed. Small explosions erupted and filtered down through the staircase. Flint recognized them as grenade action. He could not tell who was firing them. The detail of the sound was not that good. All he knew for sure was that heavier munitions had come into play in the battle with the Dreadnoks and Elwood's hired hands. Then the radio communications sprang to life again.
"Nice shot, Corben!" Argyle congratulated. "Team two, they're bugging out to your side. Make sure they don't see the light outside."
"Copy that, L-T," came the reply. Flint was unable to identify the voice.
Scarlett called out to Flint. "Flint, how's it going down there?"
"Fine," Flint said, forcing airiness into his voice. "Made four new friends. And you?"
"Situation is coming under control. The Dreadnoks bailed on Elwood. We're mopping up him and his boys now. Backup is three minutes out. What's your situation?"
"I'll get back to you on that. Just get Elwood and his pals secured. Lifeline and I are going to check it out down here."
"Roger that."
He saw Lifeline cautiously peer over the remains of a computer console. He surveyed the area, looking for any more intruders. Flint stood up, checking, too. He did not trust that the area was clear, even though it looked as though all the bad guys had been taken out of commission.
Lifeline looked to the sterile room. "Is she in there?"
Flint looked, too. "If she's not, then we're going to ask them," he said, indicating the workers in scrubs with their hands in the air.
"Mindbender?" Lifeline asked.
"Don't see him," Flint said, stepping toward the room.
The glass shielded the voices of those inside, preventing Flint from hearing their plan of action. There were five of them. Each wore surgical masks and surgical scrubs, hiding their true identities. For all he knew, Mindbender could have been among them, but he doubted it. Mindbender was not the type to stick around when a Joe assault turned up the heat. He recalled Suarez's note that Cobra operatives always made sure there was an escape. Besides, he calculated, he had seen the good doctor enough times that he would have recognized his eyes in a heartbeat.
He looked beyond the workers and saw medical equipment – monitors, in particular. He saw dips and spikes in multiple colors play across the screens. Others scrolled alphanumeric information Flint could not discern.
There was one door into the room. It was large enough for a gurney to fit through it. The round stainless steel knob on the door was unlocked. Flint reached out and turned it. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, with Lifeline was a step behind him. Flint trained his weapon on one of the workers.
"Where is she?" he asked, his voice icy and unforgiving.
An older man stepped forward, his hands raised. Silver hair tipped his sideburns that were visible above his mask. Crow's feet accentuated his ice blue eyes. He was short, tentative in his movements. Flint reacted to the man moving toward him, aiming for the man's head.
"Don't kill us," the man said, stopping short.
"Where is she!" Flint shouted.
The man gave the situation a thought and stepped aside. Then Flint saw her, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
She was on the gurney. Her head was turned to the side, away from him. Her hair had been pulled back, some of it shaved where a thick silver plate had been attached to her temple, connected to one of the monitoring machines with a series of leads. They had embedded it in her skull. The skin around the plate was red and swollen, the procedure having been recently completed. She was asleep, probably induced by the experimentation team. He looked to see if she was still breathing.
"What the hell did you do to her?" he asked slowly, quietly.
"We – we were under orders," the man stammered, trying to defend the scene.
"Get it off her," Flint ordered sharply.
"We can't. You can't just remove it. It'll kill her."
It was not what Flint wanted to hear. He bounded forward and pressed the barrel of his rifle into the man's temple.
"I don't think we're communicating," Flint said, seething.
Lifeline moved in, sidestepping the confrontation. He leaned over the gurney, examining the device. He looked back at the man.
"What does it do?" Lifeline demanded. The timbre of his voice was unlike anything Flint had ever heard. It was angry, enraged. Flint saw the ire in Lifeline's eyes. So did the man.
"It's a probe," the man answered. "A memory probe," he added for clarification.
Lifeline inspected the device more closely. "I'm no expert, but I'd say it's Mindbender's work," he said to Flint.
Flint heard footsteps out in the lab area. He saw Scarlett and Leatherneck come into view, moving toward the room with caution, checking to make sure no surprises awaited them behind the other consoles. Once they were sure the room was clear, they met up with Flint at the door.
Scarlett looked into the room where Lifeline was standing.
"Oh, my God," she breathed, shocked at the sight.
Leatherneck took a look, too. "Shit," he whispered.
Flint knew time was passing by too quickly. "Leatherneck, take these people into custody." Then he added, "Leave the professor," indicating the man should stay right where he was.
He reached out and tore down the man's mask, revealing a face he did not recognize. It was typical of Cobra to contract out work to those willing to do it.
"Was Mindbender here?" Flint asked.
"He was," the man said, looking more and more nervous as his counterparts were ushered out of the room. "He left when he heard the gunfire."
"You should have followed," Flint admonished through gritted teeth. "Get over there." He shoved the man toward Lifeline.
Scarlett took up position on the other side of the room, checking the readouts on the monitors in an effort to decipher what was happening.
Lifeline began examining Suarez. Her eyes were moving rapidly under her eyelids, as if REM sleep had kicked into overdrive. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from a box on the wall and snapped them onto his hands. His fingers prodded the device, trying to determine just how deep it really was.
"She's stable, I assure you," the man said.
"How do we get this off her?" Lifeline asked, not bothering to look at the man.
"Sever the connection, and you kill her," he warned.
"Yeah, we've established that," Lifeline snapped. "Now, answer the question."
The man hesitated. "It's not meant to be removed."
"What do you do – suck her dry and toss her out with the garbage?" Flint grilled, stepping menacingly toward the man.
"I'm just a surgeon," the man stammered, backing away from Flint. "I didn't invent the thing."
Lifeline straightened. "Lifeline to Mainframe – get Doc on the line, pronto. We have a medical emergency."
Flint looked to the medic. "Ed?"
Lifeline shook his head in frustration. He looked nervous, like when they were on the shore of the river and he had been tending to Jaye. He motioned for Flint to step outside the room. Scarlett took over guarding the surgeon.
"There's no way we can move her," he said quietly. "If our boy in there is telling the truth, she's in a lot of trouble. I need qualified instruction on what to do."
Doc entered into the communications stream on Flint's headset. They switched channels to isolate the consultation with Lifeline. Flint watched as Lifeline panned around the room and presented the situation to the Joe's chief medical officer. Flint listened as Doc analyzed everything he was seeing, stating he was inbound to the location for a better look.
The news was not good. Doc spent over an hour studying the device and the readouts on the monitors. Flint waited patiently, letting the doctor work. When he had finished, he approached Flint, his shoulders tense and his face hard.
"It's not good," he told Flint grimly but honestly. "There's no way we're going to move her from here, and even if we could, there's no getting it out of her without doing irreparable damage. According to their surgeon, we'd need the exact pathways Mindbender used to install it in order to remove it."
Flint felt his chest tighten at the news. "Pathways?"
"The fibers are woven throughout her brain, like a net. It's basically hardwired to her body in an effort to capture memory activity, so we're being told by Doctor Kildare over there. We cut the wrong thing at the wrong time, and it'll be like cutting her spinal cord."
"Does that thing even work?" Flint asked, disbelieving, looking in at the machines stationed along the walls of the suite.
Doc shook his head. "Whether it does or doesn't makes no difference. The fibers have been implanted. They're a part of her autonomic functions. Screw that up, and you stop her breathing and her heart."
Flint did not utter another word. His anger completely silenced him. He turned and bounded up the staircase into the warehouse. Security teams had locked down the area. The rest of the surgical team what was left of the armed contingent had been taken into custody and evacuated for questioning. Flint saw the damage from the shootout with Elwood's team. He looked for Elwood and spotted him sitting on a chair, handcuffed and under armed guard while a medic tended to a flesh wound to the shoulder. Flint made haste toward where he was seated. He pushed the medic out of the way and grabbed the agent at the shoulder, digging strong fingers into the tender wound.
Elwood gave an anguished cry. "Son of a bitch!" he hollered.
"Yes, you are," Flint said, his eyes wide with malice. He flexed his fingers, sending another wave of pain into Elwood. Neither the security detail nor the medic intervened. "Tell me how to get that thing out of her."
A thin layer of sweat formed on Elwood's forehead. "It can't be removed," he said in a tight voice. "She's a vegetable."
His words pushed Flint over the edge. He slammed a closed fist into Elwood's jaw and knocked him off the chair. He pursued him to the floor, landing more punches, drawing blood from Elwood's nose and mouth. Elwood struggled to get away from the assault, but his hands cuffed behind his back made that impossible. He suffered Flint's merciless attack.
Flint grasped Elwood's throat and squeezed. "How much was she worth to you? How much!"
Elwood did not answer. He continued his struggle to free himself from Flint's clutch.
Strong hands hooked under Flint's arms, pulling him away from Elwood. Leatherneck's powerful arms lifted him into the air and set him in an opposite direction. He held Flint at bay, physically restraining him as guards moved in to protect Elwood.
"He's not worth it, Flint. Let Hawk handle him," Leatherneck said, trying to from going a second round.
Flint shrugged off Leatherneck's hold. He felt out of control, rage enveloping his senses. Elwood was screaming at the medic and the guards to keep Flint away from him. Leatherneck pushed Flint further away from the scene.
The drama had caught the attention of everyone in the warehouse. Flint felt the stares but did not care. It was all the better if it kept people out of his way. He rumbled down the stairs to lab once more, crossing the room in large strides until he was back in the surgical. Doc had put a nasal cannula on Suarez, illustrating that only simple things could be done to sustain her. Flint grabbed the enemy surgeon by the collar and dragged him toward the gurney.
"Can you wake her up?" he demanded.
The surgeon's likely steady hands were shaking, truly afraid of what Flint might do. "Yes, I think so."
"You think so?" Flint challenged, half hoping the doctor would recant his statement and give Flint permission to exact more justice.
"I need to issue commands at that workstation over there," he said, nodding in the direction of the bank of machines along the wall.
Flint pulled him toward the workstations with a rough hand, nearly throwing the doctor at them.
"Do it," he ordered. He pulled out his sidearm and put it to the doctor's temple. "She so much as hiccups, and you're dead."
The doctor bent toward the keyboard and began typing, hitting the backspace several times to correct typos in the commands. The shaking in his hands worsened. Flint kept the gun firmly in the doctor's temple until the typing was done.
Flint glanced over at Suarez. She remained still.
"I don't see her waking up," Flint said threateningly.
"Give it a moment," the surgeon pleaded. His voice trembled as he said it.
Then Suarez began to open her eyes. She fought to swim to the surface of consciousness. Flint pushed the surgeon to the side and went to where she could see a friendly face the moment she was awake. Doc stood on the other side, monitoring the event.
Flint took her hand in his, careful to avoid disturbing the IV lines that had been inserted to sustain her. Her focus trained on him, then she surveyed the room. Her breathing was staggered as she realized something was desperately wrong. He saw realization take hold with her. She had most likely remembered being brought there, had been awake as they prepped her for the procedure. Mindbender took a sadistic pleasure in making sure his subjects felt fear and understood the power he held over them.
Doc held her head steady, not willing to allow it to move and dislodge anything that had been implanted.
Flint looked over his shoulder at Scarlett. "Clear this room." Then he revised his order. "Clear the entire area. Seal off those stairs. No one in or out."
Scarlett spoke to everyone in the area. "You heard the man. Let's clear out of here."
Then Flint looked up at Doc and Lifeline, who stood by their patient. "You, too. Clear out of here."
The room emptied as he had ordered. He waited until he saw Scarlett ascend the staircase. The lab area was completely silent.
He concentrated on Suarez again. "Can you hear me?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she said in a quiet breath. He could see her anguish at her plight and felt his insides being torn apart. She knew what had happened.
He reached into the utility pocket of his BDUs and pulled out the lighter. Flint showed it to her. "Can this take you home?"
Her speech was more lucid than he expected. "Might not be anything to go home to," she said.
"But there might be, right?"
"I don't know," she said. "I can open a portal, but if it's black, my time is over." Her breathing was quick. He could feel her pulse thumping in her wrist.
"We'd take care of you," he promised.
"You don't understand," she said with as much frustration as she could muster. "It doesn't change anything. If there's nowhere for me to go, I have to end here. I'm not meant to exist in this time."
"But there might be a chance," he offered, desperate.
She closed her eyes. "You have to do what I asked if it's not there, Flint. You have to preserve the timeline, or things will be all wrong. Promise me."
His mind raged that it was all wrong, that there had to be another answer. How things had become so twisted so quickly floored him. Her perception of time seemed impossible, but he had come to trust she was right. She had been willing to die once. Now, she was willing to do it again. Flint had learned that he had no other choice.
"I promise," he said.
He slid the lighter apart, placing the housing carefully on the bed. He pushed the tiny device into her palm, cradling it with her, sandwiching her hand between his. He helped her with it, holding it so she could operate the tiny control panel. She stopped after entering the instructions and looked at him intently. He knew then everything was ready.
A small tear escaped the corner as her eyes closed and ran unabated down her cheek.
"I'm afraid," she said in a barely audible whisper. Her eyes opened and locked to his again.
"Me, too," he said.
Her thumb grazed the last key on the device. A blue streak shot out of it and expanded into a shimmering disc on the other side of the room. The insides of the disc folded over and over, reminding Flint of a taffy puller, stretching and compressing plasma over and over in a repeating circular motion. The air crackled with streaks of electricity that arced outward into the room.
Suarez's eyes were riveted to the sight. Flint was barely breathed as they waited. It seemed an ironic eternity before there was a change. The pulling motion slowed, like a wheel of fortune that slowed, threatening bankruptcy or promising the grand prize. The cycles ticked down until all motion stopped and all was still and silent.
The surface of the arc shimmered and turned charcoal grey. They stared at it, shocked at the result. Then Suarez closed her eyes and began to cry in subdued sobs.
Flint did not know what to say. An apology was completely inadequate for the events that had transpired. He felt his insides turn cold as he realized what he was now tasked to do. He had promised.
He wiped at her tears with his thumb, feeling his own well in his eyes. His mouth went slack, unable to speak to comfort her. It had all been so unfair, so wrong. Time, it seemed, was a beast that consumed souls at its leisure with careless disregard for the pain it caused.
She recovered enough to look at him again. Her eyes were red and swollen. "It's time, Flint."
He was not sure what to do. "How?"
"Pull the plug," she said, indicating the leads attached to the device. "Just disconnect it."
He reached up and carefully took hold of the main line. His fingers tightened on it, and he made sure his hands were steady.
"I'm so sorry," he said in a voice so small it was barely there.
She reached up with her hand and covered his on the line. Her touch spoke volumes to him. It was an effort to exonerate him of all his guilt in killing her for the second time.
"Do it," she said.
It was time. He tightened his fingers on the line and began to take up the slack on it until it was taut. His heart was beating rapidly, pounding out of his chest as he prepared to make the final pull.
"That won't be necessary," a strongly accented voice said from the other side of the room.
Flint whirled around, dropping his grip on the line. A wiry man with gray hair stood there in a white lab coat. The dark disc was his backdrop, making him look like an angel.
"What the hell?" Flint hissed.
Suarez gave a laugh of relief that somehow thrilled Flint to the core. The man smiled and stood at the end of the bed. He looked down at her with compassion and a smile on his face that was gentle and soothing. He glanced at Flint and nodded.
"Well done, Flint," he congratulated.
Flint looked at Suarez for guidance. "I don't understand."
"Byron," she said with blessed relief in her voice, smiling. "This is one of the members of the council."
Byron nodded. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized congenially, smiling at them warmly. "You didn't leave much of a window."
"Window?" Flint asked, confused.
"I had to wait until she was gone before I could do anything about it," Byron explained. "I could explain it more, but then we'd be bordering on violating the rules of knowing the future."
Suarez smiled. "Then Byron would have to kill you," she joked, a grin spreading across her face.
Flint suddenly regained his sense of reality. He found no humor in the situation. "Can you fix this?" he asked pointedly, indicating the device attached to her temple.
Byron smiled again, pleased. "Yes," he said with satisfaction, "we can fix it."
A man and a woman, dressed in the same lab coat as Byron appeared and flanked him. They, too, smiled as they appeared.
"If you'll step away, Flint," Byron said, "we'll take her home."
Flint tried to process what he was seeing. He moved out of the way as the two assistants moved in to work on Suarez. The woman bent down and whispered something in Suarez's ear that elicited a humorous giggle. Then, she detached the lines from the device. Suarez went still, her eyes changing to a frozen stare. The monitors on the wall shrieked alarm as her vital signs plummeted.
"Hey!" Flint shouted, alarmed. He lunged forward and tried to stop them from taking her.
"It's quite all right, Flint," Byron assured, blocking him. "She'll be just fine."
The assistants began moving the gurney toward the disc. Flint watched as the trio disappeared into the darkness. Then he was alone in the room with Byron.
"Time has been restored, thanks to you," he said.
"You killed her!"
"No," Byron said calmly. "Right now, in my time, a team of scientists is restoring her to perfect health." He held out his hand to Flint, his eyes understanding of the strangeness of the situation. "You are to be commended for your bravery and your willingness to do something so difficult."
Flint tentatively accepted the handshake. "But you disconnected her," he said with desperation.
"You came to trust her," Byron said. "Now, it's time to trust one last time. I assure you that she is in good hands, hands that care for her as one of their own."
Flint peered into the darkness, trying to find her. His body had the urge to run after her, but his mind held the reins, stopping him.
Byron moved toward the disc, stopping just short of its threshold. He looked back at Flint and smiled kindly. "Stay your course, Flint. You've done well so far. You should be proud."
Then the man stepped over the threshold and faded into nothingness. The disc suddenly collapsed in on itself and was gone. Flint walked over to where it had been and reached out, waving his hands in the space it had occupied. He stood there, shocked. Her words about the tight-knit group to which she belonged echoed in his mind. They had cared for her as though a precious commodity.
He found himself trudging up the staircase in shock, trying to process it all. Scarlett looked at him, concerned as he made it once again into the warehouse again. He could tell by the look on her face that she knew something was wrong or at least that something significant had happened.
"Flint?" she asked, carefully touching his arm.
He did not answer.
"Flint?" she asked again. "What about Suarez?"
His eyes bore into Elwood, wishing he could go another round with the traitor. Perhaps that time would come, as well, just as her time to leave this world had. It was something he would have to wait on, be patient about, perhaps for some time. Still, there was something supremely satisfying in being the one to tell Elwood that his prize was no more, that none of it had been worth it.
"She's gone," Flint said.
He walked out into the cooling night air, seeing a sky filled with stars. He looked up them with new eyes and marveled at that which he had never taken time to appreciate before he met Nancy Suarez. He breathed in deeply, letting the frosty air fill his lungs.
Wild Bill stood by, leaning against the Blackhawk that had been set down in the parking lot of the warehouse. His arms were folded, his confident demeanor making the Marlboro Man look like a complete sissy.
"Where to?" Bill drawled, seemingly nonplussed.
Flint smiled for the first time in days, and it felt good. The answer was simple and had become as clear as the sky above him.
"Back to my girl."