Chapter One

...

"Will! Oh my gosh, Will! God, no, please!"

"Bobby, would you do something!?" the voice over the comm line was hushed, aggravated, and panicked. "Don't let her out here, Epps! Get her out of here, man! Now!"

"Will!" Her screams were deafened when a heavy hand clapped over her mouth. Tears began to burn in her eyes, fear pitting itself in her stomach and nesting there like a bird in summer. The thick body pulled her into the darkness of the shadows, yanked her to the ground, and whispered into her ear harshly. Her body flailed until she realized the voice was her friend. then she relaxed.

"Mira! Stop it! It's me-Epps!"

She nodded, mumbling, "Mhm! MMhmmm! MMHMMM!" He finally released her, frustrated. "Bobby! They've got Will!"

She bolted from the shadows, towards the forming circle of black SUV's with brushguards and searchlights and sirens. A helicopter hovered overhead a lone figure, an AK47 draped over his shoulders, masked in black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. His face was marred with sweat, dirt, and now, blood.

Bobby tackled her to the ground behind a stack of oil drums. She was crying, hardly audible over the pounding of helicopter blades and hustle of men with guns all cocking to life. Once satisfied she would not run away, only sob, he released her. Both of them peered over the drums, roughly 100 yards away from the scene. A man in a black trench-coat approached the lone ranger in the middle. He pulled no punches, made no snappy lines over the comm. He just pulled out a Baretta and pointed it at the man's face.

"Tell me where Miriam is, Will. Tell me where she is, and you walk."

Will raised his chin, defiant like he always was. Mira's heart began to pound harder like a defense cannon letting off rounds as she waited, listening to his breathing. Her body began to tremble and Bobby put a strong arm around her. She clutched into him, trying to draw some sort of resolve to compose herself. Bile began to built in her throat, and a shiver shook her bones. The dust of Prime's retreat had fallen now, leaving an eerily still night.

"Then I guess I'm not going anywhere." Will challenged.

The man in the overcoat gave a half-smile, almost a smirk, and tilted his head to the side. She shrugged his shoulders. "We all go somewhere, Lennox."

He pulled the trigger.

"Will! No!"

Miriam Lennox bolted up from her side of the bed, a cool film of sweat blanketing her skin. She clicked on the side lamp, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to rest on the cool wooden floor beneath her. Shaking had returned to her limbs, and she pulled the satin robe from the foot of the bed, draping it around her shoulders. She looked at the picture on her bed-side table, a happy little snapshot of the Lennox's almost a long while ago.

Her, of course, in the middle of Will and their at the time three-year-old son, Merrick. The only one really focused on the camera was the toddler-only because of mere interest-his parents smiling proudly in the sunshine of a wildflower patch on "vacation" in Maine that June. Bobby had snapped the picture of them.

Will haunted her dreams rarely anymore, except when it came to the anniversary of his death every year. Then her subconscious would pull him from the ranks of her memories and flaunt him before her in her dreams, which had once been reality. She grabbed the picture and gazed into his face, joy spread across his eyes. She only wished her stepdaughter, Annabelle, had been there...she cursed Sarah from keeping the girl from them. Annabelle and Merrick had been Will's loves, his passion. She found him at his purest in their presence. Sarah had seen otherwise.

It was nearly six, and Mira had much to do. She made coffee in the kitchen, reasoning to leave the house dark. Texas really was only Texas when the sunrise lit up your living room, so she resolved to wait until the purple and oranges flooded the sky before any man-made light hit the room. She grabbed the New King James off the desk in the living room and flipped it open to the well-worn page of Psalm 38, scanning down to verse 18.

"God is near to the brokenhearted..."

"You'd better believe it," she looked out the window at the plains; still in the night, the sky writhing with traces stars beginning to fade into morning. Grief pulled at her heart and she glanced at the wedding ring on her left hand; a simple diamond on a silver band. Then she looked at her thumb, where Will's band wrapped tightly around in a silver sphere.

She got up. She had things to do today.

Taking a shower bought her time until roughly six thirty. Dawn had began to spread throughout the sky, lightening her bathroom as she slipped into her robe. Hurrying from the bathroom, she hustled down the hall to Merrick's bedroom, where the six-year-old was slumbering soundly still. Stopping at his bedside, she removed the picture of Will from the boy's arms and set it on the shelf above his bed, then ripped the camouflage blanket from his body. She shook him awake gently.

"Merrick, honey, wake up. It's coming."

The small boy opened his eyes and propped himself up on one arm. She smiled at him, removing the towel from her wet hair and pulling at her sopping curls with her fingers. The boy slogged out of bed and took her hand, following her down the hall and towards the front porch. They stepped into the dry air and seated themselves on the swing. Mira used her foot to rock them softly, Merrick resting his head against her chest and gazing at the horizon.

"Do you think Daddy asks God to do this every day for us?" he suddenly asked. It made Mira stop a moment and take a deep breath. Merrick missed his father every day since his death a year ago. Since then the boy had changed-he no longer ran around with a smile on his face or had stars in his eyes. Instead, he played quietly and his eyes were dull, without joy. Mira had told him her father died in a battle, which hadn't been a lie since he was a soldier, and he thought that was admirable; but as any child would at the loss of a father, didn't care. He wanted his father.

"I...think Daddy might," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his hair. She reached for the necklace secured around her neck, running her thumb over the emblazoned metal carefully. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to remember yet another companion-her other best friend-who had left her. Her heart twisted and she sniffled. She had so many she missed and so few she saw. There were so many she had seen that were killed...

They sat for about an hour watching the sky change color. As Merrick drifted back off to sleep, Mira began making a list of everything she would need before her night out. She began taking inventory of everything in the back of her truck, making a mental note of what to take and toss. She'd need to run into town before heading out to the docks tonight.

Picking up Merrick and setting him on the couch, Mira buried herself in the task of dressing and prepping. She pulled the Nike gym bag from the top shelf of her closet and checked her uniform: black cargo pants, a black long-sleeved v-neck, combat boots, her camo field hat, and a Baretta. Mixed in there was an assortment of knives, ammo, grenades and other utilities needed for reconnaissance. Zipping the bag, she hurled it onto the bed and locked the door behind her.

Around nine Merrick was up and into a lively re-run of Indiana Jones when Mira silenced the TV. Hands on her hips, she pointed in the direction of his bedroom, "Merrick Elijah Lennox, get yourself into that room and dressed." She looked at her watch and her eyes widened. "We need to be in town in an hour! Hup to, young man!" she ushered him into his room where he began undressing and whipping his pajamas in every direction. Yanking open his drawers, she found something suitable.

"Why are we going into town, Mama?" he asked loudly. She wrangled him into a pair of tan cargo pants and a Batman t-shirt. Handing him his boots, he began to tackle the assignment as she hurried to throw his bed into a job she would call made. "Are we getting groceries?"

"Mama needs to go get some stuff," she uttered under her breath, unwilling to tell him about her arms deal later that afternoon, "and you're going to Conner's. To spend the night."

"Alright!" He exclaimed. Grabbing a backpack packed from the night before, he reached for a toy pistol and a semi-truck without the trailer before bursting out the door. Mira was quick to follow, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and retrieving her bag from her bedroom. Flicking off the lights, she didn't bother to lock the front door as she hustled down the steps towards the Chevy Silverado, where Merrick was already buckled into his booster.

She tossed the bag into the backseat beside him, and he stared at it, confused. "What's that?"

"That's my stuff," she huffed, slamming the keys into the ignition. With a crank she started it and threw it into reverse, pulling the wheel all the way and ripping out of the driveway. "And you aren't looking in there, got it?" she pointed at him and gave him a warning look. He nodded.

"Good." She pulled the truck into drive and tore out of the driveway and down the road.

...

The man in the trench coat ran the blade of his knife gently across the skin of his thumb, watching the man in front of him pace back and forth, muttering slightly under his breath. He rolled his eyes and let his feet drop from the top of the man's desk.

"So, you want me to haul my team all the way do the south coast for a hunch you can't even prove is legitimate?" the man muttered again into a Blackberry pressed against his ear. "No, no, I don't want maybe's. I want yes'. No's. Solid facts! If you can't tell me you have a lock...well, good then. If it's a definite lock, fine...yes, I said it, fine. I'll be down there in four hours. Have your men waiting. Yep." He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket, stopping to look at the man with the knife.

"He says they have a lock on him," he approached the desk, pressing his fingertips into it and leaning forward. "This one will talk."

The man gave a sarcastic snort. "Really? Like all the others did too, huh, Attinger? No one's talking, and Prime's bookin' across the country faster than hell on wheels. Your asset sure has to be gettin' itchy fingers, waiting around on you all this time. Pretty soon he's just going to find Prime himself and leave you-"

"Watch your mouth, Savoy!" Attinger exclaimed, throwing an accusing finger at him, "My asset isn't willing to expose himself quite yet. I'll hold up my end of the bargain, I always do. I'll get him Prime, and Lennox. I had one, remember."

Savoy smirked, "But he wanted his wife," he added.

"A minor setback."

"Minor or major, a setback is a setback."

Attinger nodded. "You're right. Well, tonight at the coast we'll get that one to talk, and that will be the end of it. And once I have Prime, he'll point me straight towards Lennox, because he won't risk hurting her. He'll sing like a canary."

"A 40-foot canary with big guns and guts," Savoy muttered.

Attinger glared at him. "The medic will talk."

"And what if he doesn't?"

A smile pulled at his face. "I'll use my asset."

...

Mira's deal wasn't until four, the guy she'd met at ten informed her. Grumbling and unappreciate, she sent him off with a friendly slap to the shoulder. Making her way back towards the Silverado, she opened the back passenger door and unbuckled Merrick's seatbelt. To make matters worse, her camera she needed tonight was broken and in dire need of fixing before she could take it out anywhere. Overall upset and unwilling to battle any other setbacks, she opened the door wider for Merrick.

"Are we going to Conner's yet?" he asked curiously. He rolled the semi along the headrest of the car before Mira grabbed his hand and helped him from the truck. She shook her head and began tying her curls back into an overly messy bun.

"Nope," she declared solidly, reaching into the open window for her satchel. The Nike bag safety tucked under the front seat would be fine, so she grabbed Merrick's hand and looked down the street. Breakfast wouldn't kill them, and they headed towards the diner.

They passed a robin's egg blue Chevrolet, a bit rusted but not badly. It was loaded with computer parts; motherboards, RAM-cards, memory disks, drives, towers, monitors, everything one could ever imagine. She wrinkled her brow and stopped, checking the truck for any type of decal. This person-whoever they were-was a computer nut, and could probably get her camera fixed before sundown. Checking it over, she rounded to the back, Merrick waiting patiently on the sidewalk, when she caught the license plate and blinked twice.

Yeager.

Parked out front the old Uptown Theatre, she decided that would be the best place to start. Grabbing Merrick's hand, she hustled them into the theatre where a heavy-set old man in a plaid button down and grimy jeans met them. His Farm-All hat, once perhaps a shining white and red, was decrepit and almost as filthy as he was. Mira stopped short when she saw him.

"Howdy, little missy. What're you and junior doin' 'round here this time of day? I got a sale goin' on in here," he jerked a thumb behind him, "You wanna look around?"

"Well," she began, "I was actually looking for the owner of the Chevrolet outside, the one with all the computer parts? Is that you?"

He laughed a dry, wheezing laugh, "Ahaha, no, that ain't missy. But if I was I'd sure want you lookin' for me too," he winked at her. A repulsive shiver went down her spine as he turned around. "But the owner's here, digging around for whatever. You're welcome inside, you and the boy. C'mon, missy, don't be shy!" he hurried down the aisle of dusty, velvet seating as his voice echoed off the dilapidating walls of the building.

Mira had given up her journalism days after meeting Will and joining NEST, but she'd kept up with the paper in the city often. Uptown Theatre had closed years ago, after being opened since 1928. Arson, the papers printed. It had once been beautiful, Mira remembering her first time ever having set foot in here with her girlfriends to see Clint Eastwood's "Dirty Harry" films.

"Stay close," Mira tightened her grip on Merrick's hand, the boy lost in the artwork littering the building. They made their way around, gazing at faded movie posters and advertisements, minding their footing around fallen sheetrock and drywall. Mira wondered if calling out was a good idea, afraid the building would collapse around them. She decided that the old man talked loud enough and the place was still standing, so it wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Hello!" she exclaimed, "I'm looking for the owner of the Chevy truck outside," she called, her voice echoing off the walls of the building as if in a valley, "the one with all the computer parts!" No answer for a moment, then, "Hello?"

"Yeah, hi, wait, that's me!" A voice from the upper seating selection called out. Suddenly from the shadows burst a man, panting and batting away what she presumed to be cobwebs. He had a baseball cap on, sunglasses resting on the bill of the hat and a grey t-shirt with a cowhide leather jacket. Mira was slightly taken aback by his strikingly handsome features, and had to collect herself. "You lookin' for the owner, Miss?"

"I am," she called, "Are those your computers?"

He nodded and hurried towards the stairs, "They are, yeah!" Soon he was on the main level, jogging towards them, a flashlight and old lens in his hand. He stuck the flashlight in his back pocket and stuck out his hand. "Cade Yeager, ma'am, owner and operator of Yeager Robotics."

"Hence the computer parts," she put two-and-two together.

He nodded. "Yeah. Who're you?"

"Mira," she stuck out her hand, "Mira Lennox. My son, Merrick."

He looked down to the boy and got a goofy grin on his face. His eyes lit up at sight of the boy and then he looked up at Mira. "Well then, Mira Lennox, what can I do for you?"

"I have a camera," she sighed, "that's extremely important. It's broken-when and why I don't know-and I need it fixed."

He shrugged. "Sure, okay."

"By tonight."

Cade nodded and shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck. "Sure thing."

"How much do you want to do it?" She let go of Merrick's hand and he took off to play. They both watched him go, and only satisfied that he was safe, resumed their conversation. "I mean, what' your rate and everything?"

He hummed and hoed for a moment before setting the lens down on a seat and slapping his hands together, "Well, assuming I have the parts and everything you need, I'd say roughly around 75 to 80 bucks. Probably less, since cameras are easy. That too much, or...?"

She smiled, "No, that's fine," he looked over her shoulder and stopped. He furrowed his brow and pointed, hustling by her and jogging towards the stage. Mira spun around to see what he was doing, and stopped. Taken aback, she stared at center stage, puzzled.

Merrick had somehow opened the door of a rusted down, exhausted looking, out dated semi. His weakness for the vehicles, of course, had aroused his curiosity. Cade intervened when he tried to monkey his way into it, grabbing him by the waist when there was a clatter of metal on the tile of the stage. Cade took a step back, looking down, Merrick still in his arms, looking down as well. Mira ran over to them and Cade set Merrick down.

"What are you doing, Merrick?" She asked, "you shouldn't be-"

"-what the heck happened to you?" Cade asked quietly.

Mira grabbed Merrick's hand and checked her watch. It was nearly eleven thirty, almost time for Merrick's playdate. She grabbed his hand and his toy truck and began hurrying out towards the door. "Hey, um..."

"Cade," he interjected, distracted.

"...Cade," she finished, "I'll leave that camera in the front seat of the truck, alright? I'll put my number in the case. Call me when it's done-tonight, right?"

"Yeah, sure, tonight!" he called, buried in the contents of the front seat of that pathetic looking cab-over semi. Hustling Merrick out the door, she did as she promised and set the camera on the front seat of the Chevy. Loading Merrick into her Silverado, she glanced back at the Theatre.

Strange place to have a truck.