The five remaining members of the team entered the marketplace as a single unit, leaving the sixth to wait for the ambulance for her injured team-mate. As they began moving quickly in the direction Otto assumed Max had dashed off in, a voice came over the radio from the woman they'd left behind. "She has a radio, and two tazers. Didn't take any of the other weapons. Switch to alternate frequency."
Otto tapped his mike twice in acknowledgement, twisted the dial on the radio at his belt, then punched in a six digit code. As agreed beforehand, the radios were for emergency use only. Otherwise, silence was the order of the day. A few quick signals to the rest of his team, and all rifles were slung. While one drew a tazer, two others instead produced heavily customized M9 Berettas, quickly attaching silencers to the end of each. The hulk at the back of the formation kept his M3 12-gauge, and Gottlieb swapped out his own rifle for a shorter but heavier SPAS-12, the folding stock weighted for balance.
The soft-soled boots worn by the attack squad, combined with their apparently quite adequate training, made absolutely no difference at all in pursuit of their quarry. Even though they moved silently enough that even Max doubted she could have picked them out of dead silence, there was no remedy to the surprised and frightened yelps and squeals from onlookers as they passed, weapons held firm and steady, moving in synch with their eyes. The crowd parted like long grass around them, the occasional parent dragging a child behind them as if to shield them.
When a young man using a single crutch didn't move quickly enough for their liking, one of the team shoved him roughly back, and he winced in pain as he lost his footing, dropping the crutch and falling back against the doorframe of a shop.
A boy of about three, scooped quickly into his mother's arms when she saw them coming and hopped aside, reached out towards the man at the back of the formation, his little hand clutching at the shiny black barrel of the shotgun he held. Without so much as glancing in the child's direction, the gunman swatted his hand away sharply. Another team member shot him a withering look when the boy started to wail loudly, but the larger man simply shrugged and continued on.
The rest of the detachment from Terminal City had already disappeared past the first checkpoint when Alec approached. Common sense should have kept him inside the perimeter fence to begin with, but the moment the call had come through, common sense had gone out the window, in the two seconds it took him to decide that with all he owed Max, he couldn't sit on his ass watching it all on the news.
What he never mentioned to Lin or anyone else was the possible upside to his going – his face was almost as well-known as Max's these days, and if the cops got involved in the chase, he might be able to draw their attention, allowing Max and the others to deal with the more pressing problem of the people who kick-started this mess in the first place.
The cop waved him on and walked, but barely a second after he'd passed under the barrier, Alec heard a cry of shock from one of the other guards on post. A second later a burst of gunfire erupted from behind him, and Alec lost control of the bike as the back tire blew out. As it skidded out from under him, Alec tumbled head over heels on the road, then quickly vaulted to his feet and hopped aside as a lot more bullets came rocketing towards him. He made for a nearby alleyway between two small shops, bolting by at top speed, furious at his being discovered so soon, but absently regarding with respect the skill of the first cop who had fired, not to mention the fact that he'd gone for the bikes tire as opposed to the rider.
A minute later, four cops rushing and huffing down the alley never noticed Alec crouched down behind a dumpster, and were long gone in pursuit of shadows when he left. Jumping onto a nearby fire escape, he climbed to the roof of the building, found it not tall enough for his purpose, and turned to another nearby. The gap was eight feet wide, the other roof ten feet higher than the one he stood on.
Taking a couple of steps back, he then ran to the roofs edge, and leapt as hard and high as he could manage at the other building. Below him lay a sea of concrete and broken bottles; not the softest of landings.
His right hand caught the edge of the other roof for a fraction of a second before slipping, replaced just in time by his left, fingers slick on the wet stone. Hefting himself up, he managed to secure a grip with both hands and crawl over the top. Once on his feet, he peeked over the edge once again. Seventy-foot fall onto a bed of shattered glass: Transgenic or not, that wouldn't have been a very fun trip.
From this higher perch his view was unobstructed; everything was downhill into Sector Five, where he could see the Farmers Market stretching out along the marina.
The Market and Max were less than four miles away, but that was four miles and one sector checkpoint too far with every cop in Seattle probably going on high alert as he stood there. He'd be of no use to Max now, but at least his fallback might work out – the cops would be looking for him, not Max, which meant that once whoever was after her in the marketplace was dealt with, she should be able to sneak back to Terminal City without incident.
The team split to cover the separate levels, Gottlieb leading one of his companions underground while the other shotgun-armed team member took command of the remaining two, combing along the ground level.
The crowd continued to part before them, a few people muttering to each other in conspiratorial tones. None of the mercenaries paid them much mind, though the word Transgenic was easily picked out. Fortunately, it seemed that everyone was under the impression they were cops of some sort, and nobody seemed to be in any hurry to dial a phone – the last thing they needed was to get involved in a standoff.
All three turned at the sound of a crash immediately behind them, and were all staring daggers at a man who'd dropped a crate of fish, spilling flounder and ice all over the ground, when the tazer struck the massive team leader in the back.
His agonized, furious roar was lost as the shotgun clattered to the ground, discharging as a result of the impact, and the small, dark blur that had last been seen disappearing into the market entrance struck him hard from behind as the electric shock passed.
As the leader fell face-first through a stall of assorted seafood, the remaining team members reacted with a speed that almost caught Max off-guard; still human, but definitely the peak of human efficiency. She barely dodged the tazer fire directed at her, rushing up to the man holding the weapon and catching him under the chin with an uppercut while a tranquilizer round from the last merc breezed by her neck as she did so.
Hopping over the tazer-wielding operative, she vaulted forward and kicked out with both feet, knocking the woman with the M9-T flat on her back. Winning full points for effort, the winded woman leapt up almost as quickly as Max herself, only a tiny bit slower for being breathless. As Max ducked under a sharp jab, the other woman's knee rose to catch her in the chest. Just stopping herself in time to avoid a cracked rib or two, Max caught the other woman by her raised leg, flipping her over and slamming her hard into the ground. The pistol was dropped and skidded away, and on the off-chance that the last merc was stupid enough to try getting up yet again, a straight punch from Max bashed her head against the cement, instantly rendering her unconscious.
The team leader was scrambling unsteadily to his feet, but as Max drew the second tazer, a shot from behind caught her in the shoulder, and she dropped the weapon as pain coarsed through her now useless arm, the rubber bullet resulting in her second dislocated shoulder in as many weeks.
Biting off an involuntary cry of shock and pain, Max spun to face the shooter, and froze at seeing Gottlieb holding the shotgun.
"What the…" She was cut off by a second shot directly to the chest, her shocked query replaced by an odd mix of the howl of a tortured animal and the breathless wheezing of someone kicked hard in the gut.
Suddenly, she noticed the pain of the once again dislocated shoulder and the undoubtedly cracked ribs beginning to dull, along with everything else. She tried to force herself off the ground, but couldn't. Gottlieb was down one knee beside her, effortlessly holding her down with the other knee.
Before she lost consciousness, Max became dimly aware of the tranquilizer dart that must have been fired immediately after the second rubber bullet from Gottlieb's shotgun, sticking out of her left thigh.
When Lin and the others arrived only moments later outside the marketplace, one man was being loaded into an ambulance, a tube shoved down his throat, one paramedic squeezing gently on the bag as they moved him. The first Police car had arrived and was guarding the vehicle containing the corpse of the other man.
Max and the rest of the mercenaries were nowhere to be found.
She awoke in total darkness, with what felt like a head-to-toe toothache. Her shoulder, which apparently had been set once again, throbbed dully, and the fire in her chest reminded her of the cracked ribs. Everything seemed distant somehow, from the pain to the darkness surrounding her. It was as if she were trapped in a void, her mind somehow separate from her body. The night-vision Manticore had provided by way of the nanites in her blood worked just like NVGs; my magnifying existing light up to five hundred times. No use in the total darkness surrounding her now.
Reaching out in front of her, her hand hit something solid only inches from her body. Strangely, what she found was some sort of fabric. To her right, the same. When she attempted to move her left arm she stopped at feeling the sting. Something was jabbing her in the arm.
Her right arm reached across to her left, groping at the source – an IV line.
What?
Numb fingers tried to grip the line and yank it out, but her hand simply wouldn't respond the way she wanted it to. Time and time again she tried, but she couldn't get hold of the line no matter what she tried.
In the control tower, another controller turned to the woman who'd been speaking to the pilot. "These guys weren't on today's manifest. What's their rush?"
"They got a corpse in cargo. Girl died in Portland last week – run over. Funeral's tomorrow in Quebec. Somebody had some pull, I guess. They got emergency clearance."
"Why the hell did they wait till now to ship her?"
"They didn't. She was supposed to go out last night, but whatever jackass was in charge of transport brought her to Seatac instead of here. They lost their place in the queue, and I suppose someone in the family knew who to talk to get her on our ticket."
Turning back to her screen, her hand unnecessarily pulling the mike on her headset slightly closer to her mouth, she spoke once again to the aircraft pilot. "LV 426, this is tower, you are clear for takeoff on Runway Two," the air traffic controller announced over the radio.
"Copy, tower, this is LV 426 approaching Runway Two for takeoff," Gottlieb responded.
The door to the cockpit opened up behind him, and Sparks, quite possibly the largest human being Otto had ever encountered, walked cautiously inside, looking around as if to make sure there was nothing nearby that he might accidently bump into and shatter beyond all repair.
"Vitals are changing. She's starting to come around."
"Up the dosage."
"Are you sure? She's already way past safe levels."
"Normal safe levels," Gottlieb pointed out. "She could probably take triple what she's getting now. Just make sure she stays asleep."
END OF PART ONE
A Note to Readers - 22/12/2007
Thanks to all who have followed this story so far, especially to those who began reading in the beginning only to have the story disappear, then return so much later with an different beginning. I'm glad you've all stuck it out to this point, and hope you will continue reading when the final part of the story begins.
I would also like to thank all my reviewers, whose support for this story has been better than anything I expected.
Finally, ReganX, who has been great for bouncing ideas off of, and was always happy to read over my work and refine my plans, and who, thankfully, never had to hit me over the head for getting lazy again.
At the moment I'm working on the layout and early chapters of Part Two for this story, The Storm. Once the first couple of chapters are ready to roll out - hopefully no later than February - I'll begin posting. Anyone hoping to see more of Lydecker, Zack, and everyone's best buddy Ames won't be disappointed. All motives will be revealed, all questions answered, and the Freak Nation goes head-to-head with the Familiars to screw up their plans for an apocolypse.
When the first entry in The Storm goes up, I'll post here once more to let everyone know. Anyone who doesn't have this story on Alert, but who wrote any signed reviews, I'll send a message to your account.
Hoping to see you all again soon,
Padraig Fagan