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Dark Angel: The Escape

Part One of the Breakout Cycle

By Matt Quinn 

In 2009, Max and eleven other genetically-engineered children escaped from Project Manticore, a secret military operation in Wyoming. In 2020, those children had grown up into young adults alone in a hostile world and pursued by their trainer, Colonel Donald Lydecker. Now, circumstances have changed. Betrayed by his mysterious boss, Lydecker was forced to ally with his �kids� and they attacked Manticore, seeking to destroy the program once and for all. They succeeded in destroying the laboratory with its precious genetic samples but in the process, Zack and Max were captured, with Max near death due to a bullet wound in the heart. At present, Max is a prisoner at the Manticore base in Wyoming but things about to change� 

*Note to readers: American equivalents used for South African military ranks. With most of them, it�s only a translation from Afrikaans to English 

Manticore Infirmary, Wyoming, 7:45 PM 

�He died for me,� Max said to herself. �He really did.� Her eyes were wide and her lip trembled. She lay handcuffed to a gurney surrounded by Manticore doctors. The heart monitor that broadcast the noises of Zack�s transplanted heart lay on her chest, taxing her sanity with every beat. Several soldiers were standing nearby, the safeties on their weapons off. Lydecker�s mysterious boss, who was masterminding the entire Manticore operation, had just left. Max was privately happy, for that woman was scary. According to Lydecker, she had killed Tinga.

�Yes,� one of the doctors, a man with an Italian complexion in hospital scrubs and a mask said. �He did. Now, we�ve got some business to take care of. You�ve been out for quite awhile and you need to get back into the swing of things. Some emotional manipulation and psychological conditioning will do nicely, plus some genetic work to fix that flaw of yours that makes you dependent on Trytophan. Now, where do we start first?�

Max started to struggle, the edges of the cuffs scratching the gurney�s steel somewhat. �Careful,� he said condescendingly. �Those cuffs are made of some very inventive alloys. An elephant would have some problems breaking those and you aren�t as strong as an elephant. If I were you, I wouldn�t tire myself unnecessarily.� 

Outside the Manticore Fence, Same Time 

�All right gents,� a young, dark-haired man clad in camouflage marked on the right shoulder with the colorful South African flag, a rectangle with a green line through the center that split towards the left, dividing it into different colored sections, said in a vaguely European and slightly guttural accent. �You know the drill. Break down this fence and get into the main building. Find this girl�s body and bring it to our vehicle. She has a Red Series implant in her skull, from a fight with some of our comrades some time ago. These tracker units will lead you right to her, unless they�ve taken the implant out.� He handed several devices that vaguely resembled Game Boys with small antennas to each of the soldiers. He drew a picture of Max from his pocket and showed it to his men. �This is our target.� They all nodded in recognition.

�This is something that is very important for a friend of South Africa and this could possibly lead to a longer lifespan for you and those like you,� he continued. �I�m sure you understand the seriousness of all this.� He was speaking to several tough-looking men in similar outfits who, unlike him, carried heavier weapons. He was armed with an automatic pistol and a long knife, while they all carried new-looking Uzi carbines. Two of them had large backpacks on. They also had blood underneath their eyes that gave them an ominous look.

�Yes, Captain Visser, we do,� one of the men, a large Caucasian with shorn black hair and comparatively little blood beneath his eyes said. �Our friend, formerly a Manticore loyalist, lost her on a raid on this complex. He wants her body brought back before they can harvest her for transplant parts. We�ll go to the infirmary first, since these devices have a short range.� The others nodded.

�Good job, Vornster,� Captain Jan Visser said, smiling. �Now let�s get going. We�ve got a lot of work to do.� He drew his pistol and chambered a round.

Vornster reached forward and seized the chain link fence with both hands. Then he pulled back with a roar, tearing the fencing in half and leaving a way in for the others. As the klaxons blazed, breaking the silence of the cool evening, they all checked their weapons. The safeties were all off. Party time. 

Manticore Infirmary, 7:46 PM 

�Dear me,� the doctor said, his eyes indicating that he was smiling. �Your friends are most likely trying to rescue you or your deceased �brother�. They�re too late for him, of course, and they�ll be too late for you.� As the soldiers guarding Max rushed away to face the intruders, he turned to a nearby counter and picked up a needle full of dark brown fluid. He gave the plunger a little tap, squirting some of the fluid. �Ordinarily, we�d scramble your perceptions with psycho-active drugs and then go to work with will-sapping chemicals and electric shocks. However, we used up all our psycho-actives on your friend Zack and on reconditioning Brin. We�ll just have to cut corners. This liquid will go to work on your brain, reducing your higher capacities and making you, for a time, extremely prone to suggestion. Once I start going to work on you, you�ll be just like your friend Brin��

�No!� Max screamed.

�Oh yes,� the man said with sadistic glee. He grinned again, though only his eyes were visible. �We�ve invested much in you, my dear. You belong to us.� 

Open Space of the Compound, 7:47 PM 

Captain Visser and his unusual soldiers were fairly close to the doors leading into the complex when the trouble started. The alarms had been going for two minutes when the first of the guards arrived. Two formations of four Black Ops soldiers apiece, each man armed with an M-16 assault rifle, swooped in from the sides, guns blazing. Most of the South Africans raised their Uzis and fired back. Captain Visser dived into the doorway, which provided some cover, and then started firing.

Two of the American Special Forces troops dropped, shot in the chest. The survivors continued firing, hitting one of the invading commandos in the chest. The soldier did not react and continued firing. The soldier who hit the South African appeared shocked but, true to his training, he kept on attacking.

�We don�t have time for this!� Captain Visser shouted to his men. �Inside!�

The South African soldiers backed into the doorway with their commander, all while keeping the Americans back with lots of firepower. Captain Visser opened the door and ducked inside, pistol out. His soldiers ducked inside a moment later. The last one in pulled the pin of a grenade and rolled it towards the guards. The guards scattered to avoid the explosion, but the blast cut down three of them a moment later. 

Manticore Infirmary, 7:49 PM 

The doctor stepped back and dropped the needle into a box labeled �Biohazard.� He had just injected Max with a large amount of a brownish substance that had the consistency of water.

�You see?� the doctor asked mockingly. �Practically painless. Now all we have to do is what a couple of minutes for it to take effect. Then, we can begin reconditioning you to be the perfect soldier.�

�N-n-never,� Max said, her trembling interfering with the defiance in her voice. �Over my dead b-b-body.�

�Now, my dear, there�s no need for that. In a couple of hours, you�ll be well beyond your defiance and fear.� He turned around and took out a couple of cables linked to a generator on the nearby counter. He stepped over and affixed the leads to Max�s temples. �This should be interesting,� he said. �Drug you, then break down your resistance with some pain-conditioning and we should be well on our way.� He smiled again. 

Nearby Hallway, 7:50 PM 

�We�ve got a signal, boss,� Vornster said. �Just down this hallway.�

�Excellent,� Captain Visser said. �We�ll have our quarry before eight in the evening.�

�Um, Captain,� a large black man with very bloody eyes said. �We�ve got company.� Captain Visser looked away from his soldiers to see several children who looked to be eight to ten years old standing in the hallway behind them. All of them were wearing camouflage gear.

�They�re sending children after us?� Captain Visser said with astonishment. �How desperate are they?� He thought a minute. �Wait a minute, our friend mentioned this when he asked me to take this assignment.� With one synchronized movement, the children drew and raised pistols, then opened fire. Several of the South Africans were hit but none of them reacted. The commandos raised their weapons and opened fire on the children but the X-7s were already moving. One of them was hit in the leg, but the injured child continued to drag himself towards the invaders. However, he didn�t last long. Captain Visser shot the wounded X-7 through the head and the enemy�s movement stopped. The other X-7s winced in pain at their comrade�s death but kept on attacking.

One of them stopped moving within four feet of Vornster and dropped to one knee. Then, she opened fire. The bullets passed through Vornster�s right kneecap and he lurched to the right but kept on his feet. He continued his lurch, however, just enough to seize the X-7 girl by the throat and drive her head into the wall with an audible crack. His victim went limp and he let her drop to the floor. One of them leaped into Captain Visser and they went sprawling. The child seized the officer by his head and was just about to snap his neck when an Uzi burst blew several gaping holes in his chest. Bleeding heavily, the X-7 toppled off his victim.

�Good shot,� Captain Visser said to his savior, the large black soldier who had warned them of the X-7s.

�No problem,� the man said, turning around faster than Captain Visser could blink and blasting an X-7 in the head. There were only three X-7s left now, and they were drawing back, eyes still fixed on his group. The commandos were drawing into a cluster, all of their guns pointed at the X-7s. A moment later, they all fired their Uzis in sweeping bursts, mowing down the remaining X-7s.

�Excellent work,� Captain Visser said. �Now, how far was the Manticore girl?� 

Manticore Infirmary, 7:52 PM 

�My, that gunfire was loud,� the doctor said. �Your friends are getting closer. They�ll still be too late.�

�You won�t survive this, you bastard,� Max growled, though she seemed somewhat woozy.

�Naughty, naughty,� the doctor said. He reached over and pressed a button on the generator. Two massive shocks hit Max in the temples and, convulsing, she screamed.

�You�ll have to learn respect,� the doctor said. �At present, I�m your superior officer. Your friends Tinga didn�t learn respect and look what happened to her. I was looking forward to breaking her, but she died before I could get to her.�

�What do you know about Tinga, you psycho?� Max said. Her voice was wavering somewhat, though she tried to hide it.

�Those drugs I injected you with must be taking effect,� the doctor said. �Your excessive confidence is gone. Maybe I won�t need to shock you as much as I thought I�d need to in order to be able to break your mind wide open for repairs.� He administered another shock and Max convulsed again, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

�Now, now,� the doctor said with mock niceness. �I want to hear several, luscious screams from your lovely throat. I want to break you wide open.� 

Outside the Infirmary, 7:54 PM 

�The signal is from here,� Vornster said as he stood in front of the door. There were muffled screams emanating from inside, as well as some conversation that the soldier couldn't make out. �I�ll go in first.� He raised his Uzi and kicked the center of the door with his booted foot. The door burst off its hinges and went flying into the room. He stepped into the infirmary, followed by Captain Visser and the other commandos. 

Manticore Infirmary, 7:55 PM 

�What the hell?� the doctor said, looking away from his victim. �What�s this?�

�Your death, you piece of shit,� Max said angrily. �Within five minutes, you�re going to be ventilated.�

The doctor leaned over and turned up the voltage on the generator. �Not yet, you insubordinate vixen.� He pressed the button and she screamed again, convulsing on the gurney. Once the shocking was done, she turned her head away from her tormentor to avoid looking at him.

�Lovely drugs, those that I pumped into you. Without them, something tells me you would be a lot less theatrical. I�d have to actually make some effort to make you scream.� He noted that Max was looking away from him now. �Ah, I can tell I�m making progress. You�re starting to develop fear.�

On the other side of the infirmary, the door exploded inward and, weapons pointed up, the South African commandos deployed around the entrance. Almost immediately after they entered, the soldiers heard Max�s screaming. At the sound, they all turned towards the good doctor and his victim. The doctor�s eyes bulged as he saw the commandos pointing their guns at him. Max was looking away from the soldiers and they didn�t notice her face.

�The signal�s strongest from over there,� Vornster said. �And the girl on the gurney��

�Is our target,� Captain Visser finished for him. He raised his pistol and pointed it at the doctor. The doctor ducked back towards the table, eyes full of fear. Captain Visser squeezed the trigger, shooting him between the eyes. As the doctor dropped to the infirmary floor, the commando leader rushed up to the gurney.

�Our target is in good condition and shows no signs of vivisection,� Captain Visser said to himself as he leaned over her. Max looked up to see who the new voice belonged to. At the sight of Max actually moving, Captain Visser�s eyes bulged.

�Well I�ll be�she�s alive. I guess this explains all the screaming.� He looked at her a moment, then cleared his throat. �Excuse me, Max is it? My name is Captain Jan Visser of the South African Defense Force. Colonel Lydecker sent us here to retrieve your body before they harvested your innards. However, it seems reports of your death were greatly exaggerated.� He turned around to his soldiers. �One of you, come here. She�s handcuffed to the gurney and I�ll need your help prying her loose.� The black man came up quickly.

When Max saw the other commando and his bloody eyes, her jaw dropped. �Oh no,� she gasped. �The Reds.�

The Red Series soldiers were arguably the most dangerous enemy she�d ever faced, other than her X-7 clone who nearly killed her. South African convict-soldiers implanted with devices that revved up their adrenal glands and made them nearly-indestructible killing machines that couldn�t feel pain, they were one of the few things on Earth that scared her. She�d nearly killed herself defeating a squadron of Reds sent to capture her for her prized genetic code by implanting herself with a Red implant and nearly frying her brain. That wasn�t the end of it, for Lydecker eventually managed to track the implant plugged into her neck and capture her. Lydecker�s capture of her ultimately led to the attack on Manticore and the current situation.

The big Red Series soldier reached over and wrenched apart the handcuffs holding her right hand to the gurney. He then leaned over her and tore off the other pair. While he was freeing her other hand, Max shoved the heart monitor off her chest and sent it clattering to the floor. The accursed beating of her borrowed heart was finally inaudible. She exhaled in relief.

�Come on,� Captain Visser said. �We fought our way through Special Forces troops and a bunch of homicidal kids, now let�s get out of here.� He turned away from the gurney and started walking towards the smashed entrance of the infirmary. Suddenly, the Captain stopped and turned to face the Red.

�Mfune, the Manticore people most likely shackled her legs as well. Take apart any leg restraints and let�s get going.�

The soldier reached towards the end of the gurney and yanked the leg-cuffs apart. The Red walked away from the X-5 to join his Captain. While Max massaged her legs, Captain Visser turned to her. �Come on,� he said simply. �The place will be crawling with enemies soon.�

�Why do you think I�m going with you?� Max asked as she crawled off the gurney. �You guys tried to kidnap me once.� She stood on wobbly legs and tried to take a few steps but soon collapsed. The drugs had their effects other than weakening willpower, she observed wryly. Captain Visser rolled his eyes.

�Max, you�re in no condition to travel and not in any condition to argue,� Captain Visser said. �Right now, the mission of our mission is to get you out of here. We can dicker about what to do with you later on. Mfune, I think you may need to carry her for this part of the journey.� When he thought she wasn�t listening, he mumbled �Feisty one, isn�t she?� to himself.

Mfune picked her up nearly effortlessly and followed his commanding officer towards the entrance. Max didn�t have the energy to resist any more than kicking feebly at the large man�s back, which she gave up after awhile. Her enhanced physiology was immune to most drugs but these were having rather extreme effects on her system. She felt woozy and had a total lack of energy. As the group walked down the hall, she noticed the X-7 that resembled the child Zack lay in the hall, chest shattered by bullets. Nearby lay the clone Max that had nearly killed her. The child�s skull was bloodied and malformed, indicating massive trauma.

�You killed me,� Max whispered in a woozy voice.

�Judging by the screaming, we saved you from being killed, or worse,� Captain Visser said dryly.

�You have no idea,� Max said. 

Entrance to Manticore, 8:00 PM 

Captain Visser and his soldiers, with Max in tow, stepped out of the Manticore building only to meet with more trouble. Standing before them in black fatigues was Brin, looking very cold and frightening. As soon as she spotted the Reds and their leader, as well as her �sister,� she raised her fists in a combat stance and stared straight at Captain Visser. He stared right back, unblinking.

�Surrender the X-5,� Brin ordered. �Now.�

�Brin�� Max said weakly. �Run��

�An X-5 never runs,� Brin said with steel in her voice. �We�re the perfect soldiers.� She leaped in the air and flipped towards Captain Visser. Her booted feet struck the South African leader in the fact with ballet-like grace, sending him toppling backwards with a bloody nose. She used the force of the impact with Captain Visser�s head to rebound away from the Reds. Captain Visser recovered quickly and he raised his pistol and began firing at her. She dodged easily; the bullets flew right by, hit the pylons of a fence, and ricocheted into the darkening sky.

�Mfune, protect Max. The rest of you, let�s deal with her,� Captain Visser said, ejecting a clip from his pistol, drawing another one from his pocket, and loading it. He raised the pistol and drew a bead her. Brin circled the group warily, her guard up. The Reds raised their Uzis and tracked the X-5 loyalist as well. Only Mfune hung back, charged with his commander to protect the nearly comatose woman they had come to rescue.

�Don�t�kill her,� Max said weakly. �Or else I�ll�kill you.�

Captain Visser rolled his eyes. �Something tells me that when you haven�t been severely drugged, as I suspect you have, you�re quite a woman. But please don�t distract us. We�re trying to rescue you from here.� Captain Visser kept his eyes and his gun on Brin the entire time, even as he was talking with Max.

�And�take me back�to South Africa no doubt�to be put to the same use as I would have been at Manticore,� Max whispered defiantly.

�No,� Captain Visser said. �We have a lot of the Manticore stuff we need already. A little deal we made with Colonel Lydecker so he could get his hands on our lovely tracking equipment. We�re doing this as a favor to Lydecker. He�ll be quite surprised to find that you�re still alive, methinks.�

�How very Shakespearean�of you,� Max said, sounding even weaker.

�I suggest you rest,� Captain Visser said, tracking Brin with his pistol. The X-5 continued to circle the cluster of Reds. She had made her previous attack when the South Africans weren�t prepared and now that they had powerful guns pointed at her, she was taking her time preparing the next attack. �You sound very tired.� He continued watching Brin, waiting for the attack. 

Logan�s Penthouse, Seattle, 9:00 PM (same time, just time zone difference) 

Logan continued to stare out the window, watching the rainy streets of his city. His statement was grim and his eyes were full of sadness.

�It�s not your fault,� Lydecker said. The former Manticore commander, and now fugitive, was staying Logan�s penthouse, waiting for the fallout from the raid on Manticore to blow over. The former enemy of Max and Logan sat on a sofa, looking out on the city from behind Logan. Kritt and Syl had long since disappeared, leaving Logan and Lydecker alone.

�If I hadn�t knocked you out, you would have been killed by the X-7s. Furthermore, my former boss wanted to find you specifically.�

�What?� Logan said, turning towards Lydecker. �Why does she want me specifically?�

�Eyes Only,� Lydecker said calmly, watching as Logan�s eyes went wide. �I�ve known this for some time, actually. Eyes Only interfered with the hunt for the X-5s soon after Zack escaped me at Manticore, and I suspect that it was you who muddled my radios at Sedro Island last year. All this got the higher-ups at Manticore interested in you because, as you may expect, they don�t want outside interference. We had a little discussion via a computer some time ago and that clinched it; Eyes Only was cooperating with Max specifically. Then came our attack on Manticore and I noticed the rapport between the two of you, culminating with me having to drag you away from Max physically.�

�We could have saved her,� Logan said, voice totally emotionless. �We could have.�

�She was already dead,� Lydecker said. �She would have wanted me to get you away from there.�

�Does your boss know what you know?� Logan asked. �You said you only figured it out recently.�

�She�d know that the X-5s and I would possibly collaborate against her. But you? If she knows you at all, you�re part of a family that is experiencing financial troubles due to a governmental investigation of a hover-drone armed with machine guns. She�d pump you full of truth serum and then she�d figure out who you are. She�d have killed you, Logan. You had to understand that.� He didn�t mention that he and the small number of Black Ops people still loyal to him still retained possession of the armed hover-drone. He knew that Logan would flip out.

�Well, now what?�

�Well, this is a very nice apartment,� Lydecker commented. �Nice d�cor. Your family�s company is in legal trouble and your cash flow is likely to dry up fast. How do you suppose you can keep up like this?�

�As I said to Max a long time ago, I have a lot of art I can sell. I�ll be able to keep up like this for months if not years.�

Logan stopped talking and resumed staring out the window. Lydecker became quiet as well. Unlike Logan, he knew about the raid that his South African allies were attempting on Manticore. Perhaps even Lydecker�s murderous superior would be killed as well. If they were lucky, there would be massive collateral damage and at least Logan would have Max�s body to bury. 

Outside Manticore Compound, 8:06 PM (time zone difference again) 

The attack finally came. Apparently, Brin had seen an opportunity and decided to exploit it. She leaped in the air towards Vornster and another Red, the two nearest to Max and Mfune, and spread her legs in mid-flight to hit the two in the face. The impact sent them staggering backwards but due to their inability to feel pain, they quickly regained their footing. However, Brin was already moving through the group, mayhem in mind.

With a swift kick to the stomach, she sent Captain Visser sprawling. He fired his gun as he went toppling, but all he succeeded in doing was hitting Vornster in the shoulder. Brin jumped up in the air and kicked Vornster and another Red in the head, sending both of them staggering. She then seized Mfune by the throat and attempted to throw him. Mfune was too big, however, and all she succeeded in doing was shifting him a few feet and causing him to drop Max. When Max hit the ground, she groaned but did little else.

�Some day you�ll thank me,� Brin said to Max as she reached down and lifted her up. However, as she picked Max up, one of the Reds saw an opportunity. He opened fire on Brin, hitting her in the back and kneecaps. With a scream, she collapsed. Mfune, who had recovered quickly from Brin�s attack, picked Max up again. When Max saw what the Reds had done to Brin, she renewed her attacks on the South African, however feebly. Mfune ignored the kicking and biting X-5 and continued along. On the ground, Brin groaned in pain.

�Relax,� Captain Visser called as he and his commandos walked away. �I know the advanced healing capabilities that soldiers of your class have. You�ll be on your feet again in no time. Then you can come after me, but we�ll be long gone by then.� 

Forests Outside Manticore, 8:15 PM 

The South African commandos reached their helicopter, a Blackhawk based on an American design but built in Johannesburg. The craft was parked in a clearing in the woods. It was unmarked and armed with several auxiliary weapons such as rocket pods and huge chain-guns. As soon as they came within sight, the pilot started the rotors. Captain Visser pulled open the doors on the side and gestured to Mfune to enter first. The Red and his unwilling passenger entered the helicopter.

�Once Manticore has its act together,� Max gasped. �They�ll�send pursuit forces. They�re�excellent trackers.�

�We know that,� Captain Visser said. �You see that two of my soldiers aren�t here right now? They hung back while we advanced, planting Claymore anti-personnel mines along the route we traveled. These woods will be very interesting places for some time.� There was an explosion in the distance, followed by several screams. �You see? A squad of Special Forces troops is no longer with us.�

The two Reds with backpacks entered the clearing. Their backpacks were noticeably lighter now. �Good job,� Captain Visser said. �They�ll be delayed for quite awhile.� The other troops began entering the helicopter, while those who stayed outside kept watch, weapons out. Captain Visser was the last one into the chopper and he shut the door behind him.

�We�re all in,� he told the pilot. �Take off.�

The Blackhawk rose into the air and flew away. 

Forest Clearing, 8:45 PM 

A group of Special Forces soldiers entered the clearing, weapons out. All of them were fully alert. Over fifteen soldiers had been killed and twelve had been wounded by Claymore mines as they trailed the enemy soldiers and they were taking no chances. The lead soldier, a tall man with two curious scars on one cheek and reddish hair, looked about the clearing, then noticed the skid marks in the ground.

�Damn,� the man said angrily. He raised his walkie-talkie and pressed the �talk� button. �Manticore base, this is Captain Saunders. The trail left by the enemy ends in an empty clearing. Our targets apparently left on a helicopter since there are skid marks on the ground and no more tracks.�

�Return to base, Captain,� the voice from the walkie-talkie said. �We�ll send out aerial forces in pursuit.� 

Skies Above Wyoming, 8:57 PM 

�All right,� Captain Visser said. �We�ll abandon the helicopter in an old mine tunnel, where others will take it back home once this situation blows over. There will be transport at the mine, which we�ll take on the next phase of our journey.� He turned to Mfune. �How�s our passenger?�

�She�s apparently fallen asleep,� Mfune said. �I don�t know when she�ll wake up.�

�Don�t worry,� Captain Visser said. �Judging from what I know about the procedures they do with rogue X-5s, they were probably trying to �soften her up,� so they can brainwash her. The drugs will wear off probably within a few hours.�

�Captain Visser,� the pilot said. �We�ve got company.�

�What kind of company?� Captain Visser asked, leaving his seat and stepping towards the partition that separated the cockpit from the section where the transportees were. He leaned partly into the entranceway to the cockpit so the two could hear each other better.

�Two Apache helicopters with air-to-air weapons. They�re right behind us.�

�Damn,� Captain Visser swore. �The situation has just gotten worse.�

A new voice came over the radio in the cockpit. �Unmarked helicopter, this is a warning straight from the US military. You are in violation of American airspace and we have reason to believe that you may have been involved in a recent terrorist attack. Land now or we will be forced to disable you.�

�You know what to do,� Captain Visser said to the pilot.

The pilot pressed some buttons on the console and both of the rocket pods on the helicopter�s �outriggers� rotated one-hundred eighty degrees. Then, the pods opened fire on the American choppers.�

The Americans weren�t expecting the attack, since the only non-fixed helicopter weapons that they were familiar with were the cannon. One of the Apaches was able to dodge, but the other was smashed head-on and exploded. The other went into evasive maneuvers and the gunner began targeting the craft�s own weapons.

�Evasive action,� Captain Visser ordered the pilot. �Despite this country�s current difficulties, I expect the American weapons are still some of the most lethal on Earth.�

�I was doing that already, Captain,� the pilot said.

As the pilot threw the chopper into a steep dive, Captain Visser thought back to the briefing he had been given by his superiors on his equipment. This particular type of Blackhawk had some design changes in it that made it more adaptable for covert ops. The fact that it had weapons was one; the factor that the weapons could turn all the way around and fire at targets behind was another.

�Damn,� he commented respectfully. �The military designers had some good ideas when they started modifying this one.� The helicopter continued down towards the forests near the Yellowstone River, with the Apache in close pursuit. The rear-facing rocket pods fired at the pursuing helicopter but the pilot in the American chopper was good and managed to dodge them. The unmarked Blackhawk swerved to the left, rotating its weapons accordingly to get a bead on the pursuing Apache.

The Apache fired its cannon, scoring the tail of the Blackhawk with heavy shells. The helicopter shook at the impact but continued to fly. The Blackhawk fired more rockets at the pursuing enemy aircraft, hitting one of the �outriggers� of the craft and destroying several of its weapons. The ammunition didn�t �cook off� and destroy the helicopter, however. Even though the Apache had been damaged, it was still a dangerous opponent.

�Dive towards the river,� Captain Visser ordered, �and keep up the evasive maneuvers and rearward fire. Perhaps we can cause him to crash into the river by diving and pulling up at the last second.�

�I�ll try that,� the pilot said. The helicopter went into a steep dive towards the Yellowstone River, with the Apache in close pursuit. The rocket pods fired more rockets at the pursuing American but those all missed. The pilot stopped firing.

�We�re out of rockets,� he said gravely. �And the cannon can�t rotate all the way around to fire.�

�We�re in trouble,� Captain Visser said. �If we can�t outmaneuver him, we�re dead.� The helicopter continued its dive towards the river. As the waters of the Yellowstone grew closer and closer, Captain Visser crossed his fingers while pilot prayed. The Apache kept up its relentless pursuit. Time slowed to a crawl as the two craft hurtled towards the river.

The Blackhawk pulled up at the last possible second; it was two feet above the water once it leveled off. The Apache swooped up behind it, its bottom skimming the water. It didn�t crash. The American chopper fired its cannons, raking the rear of the helicopter and knocking one of the skids loose. The chopper began shaking again, worse than the previous attack.

�It seems the plan didn�t work,� Captain Visser commented. �We�ve still got a pursuer.� He thought about the add-ons that the SADF technicians had placed on this particular Blackhawk, the modifications other than the rotating rocket pods and cannon. Then, he had an idea.

�Deploy the rotators in the tail,� he ordered the pilot. �Spin us around. Then machine-gun the American chopper. The enemy pilot won�t expect that one will he?�

�Rotator rockets are out,� the pilot replied. �The cannon fire tore the propellant tubes and we can�t get enough fuel there to fire them.� Captain Visser frowned. The rapid-rotation capability was one of the SADF�s more interesting military experiments and had a history dating back to the Third Boer War of 2009-11. Still, there had to be other options.

�Why aren�t they firing rockets?� Captain Visser asked himself. �One of the outriggers may have been destroyed but the other one is fully intact.�

�The ultimatum said to land or be disabled, Captain,� the pilot said. �Rocket fire runs a high risk of destroying rather than crippling the target, especially if it ignites the fuel. Perhaps the pilot is using cannon to damage us enough to force us to land.� Another burst of cannon fire accentuated his remark and the chopper lurched again.

�Other than rotating weapons and rockets capable of spinning the craft 180 degrees, what other lovely gadgets has this bird been outfitted with?� Captain Visser asked. �We�re being chewed up from behind and we can�t fire back.�

�Well, we have chaff to confuse radar-guided weapons and flares that can be dropped to wreck enemy infrared capability. We could have someone lean out the side door and shoot at the helicopter. One of your Uzis might be able to drill through the canopy and kill the pilots.�

�Not good enough. Chopper canopies are made of reinforced �safety glass� these days. Gunfire won�t be enough to drill through.�

�What about a rocket launcher?�

�We have a rocket launcher?�

�This Blackhawk-D helicopter was configured to be the ultimate infiltration weapon, able to sneak commandos in and out quickly and to deal with enemy forces that could interfere in creative and asymmetrical ways. That�s why we have the nifty innovations we have. We also have backup weapons supplies. There�s a rocket launcher with several rockets back there. Have one of your invincible Red boys lean out the door and fire it at the enemy Apache.�

The helicopter shuddered as more cannon fire raked the rear. A shell punched through the cabin wall and exited through the roof, nearly nailing one of the Reds. �I suggest you hurry,� the pilot continued. �That fire is getting closer and closer to our fuel and hydraulics. If he keeps hitting us, we may have to land.�

�Are we still on course to the rendezvous point?� Captain Visser asked.

�On a rather roundabout way, yes. Our little diving excursion sent us slightly off course but we�re still heading there. Estimated ETA is about eight minutes.�

�That�s too long. Mfune!� he called back. �Go to the rear of the craft and get the rocket launcher. Make sure it�s loaded and open the side door. Fire at the pursuing helicopter.� Another shell punched through the cabin, this one nearly hitting Captain Visser. �Hurry up!� he said. �A little sense of urgency!�

�Yes sir,� Mfune said, making his way towards the locker built into the rear of the craft. He opened it and withdrew a Milan anti-tank rocket launcher. Captain Visser got a look at it and rolled his eyes. This would be excellent, he thought, if we were surrounded by enemy tanks. However, it�ll be difficult to use on a fast-moving aerial target.

�Mfune!� he shouted. �That�s an anti-tank weapon and doesn�t have too much in the way of the tracking ability needed to hit an aerial target. You�ll have to fire by sight.�

�Yes sir,� Mfune said, carrying the loaded weapon towards the side door. With a single yank, he pulled the door open and then grabbed a strut with his free hand. Using the hand he held the rocket launcher in, he maneuvered the weapon to his shoulder and leaned out.

The Apache pilot saw the man leaning out of the doorway of the chopper and laughed. �These terrorists must be getting desperate. They�re having people shoot at us from the door!� As he mocked the South Africans, Mfune took aim with his weapon.

�Take a look,� his gunner, who sat behind him, said. �That guy�s got a rocket launcher.�

Mfune fired. The Milan rocket roared from the launcher and hurtled straight at the pilot�s seat. The resulting explosion blew the pilot to pieces and wrecked the main controls. It also crippled the cannon that the Americans were using to selectively damage the South African craft. The Apache dipped towards the forest. The gunner, however, had survived the impact. He took control via the backup unit he had and inventoried what still worked. The frontal control assembly, much of the sensor capability, and cannon were gone. The rockets on the right outrigger still worked, even though the degraded sensors would make any attack less accurate.

The helicopter continued to plunge towards the forests below. The gunner struggled to regain control of the craft but couldn�t. He decided to make one last go at taking out the terrorists before he�d have to eject or die. He activated the rocket pod on the right outrigger and fired. Two rockets streaked towards the terrorist craft as the bottom of the helicopter scraped the tops of the tallest trees. He had done all he could do. He ejected.

The two rockets roared towards the South African chopper. The chopper dove to the left, avoiding one of the rockets. The other, however, smashed into the door area. Mfune, who had just ducked inside after finishing his attack on the Apache helicopter, was obliterated and the shrapnel wounded two of the other Reds. Captain Visser and some of the surviving Reds were thrown to the floor. Max, out cold on one of the seats, was jolted severely but didn�t wake up.

�Bad news,� the pilot said. �That attack did cut some of our fuel lines. There�s gas spewing out the back as is. We probably won�t be able to make it to the rendezvous point.�

�Is there any way to redirect the fuel so it doesn�t get wasted through the damaged lines?� Captain Visser asked, climbing back onto his feet and trying to find something he could hold on to in order to avoid being sucked out of the gaping hole in the side of the craft.

�No!� the pilot called back. �If we ever get back to Pretoria, remind me to suggest that to the SADF characters who gave us rotating weapons and maneuvering rockets!�

�Let�s concentrate on getting to that mine!� Captain Visser said. �How much longer!�

�We�re about fifty miles, by my estimate,� the pilot shouted. �At the rate we�re losing fuel, we�ll have to make a crash landing about ten miles or so from the rendezvous point.�

�See if you can glide us in!� Captain Visser said. �The military authorities are probably bringing in a state-wide manhunt and it�s imperative we get out of Wyoming before the Sector people start looking for suspicious-looking people!�

�I�ll try,� the pilot said. �But no guarantees!�

The helicopter jolted about in midair. Captain Visser noticed that they were losing altitude. There was a cloud of fuel jetting from severed lines towards the rear of the craft that was visible from inside the cabin. The Reds had already gotten holds on struts or solid things inside the chopper and were in no danger of being sucked out of the craft. Captain Visser groaned. This was not turning out to be a good day. 

Rendezvous Point, Abandoned Mine Complex, 9:06 PM 

Captain Roger Thabo, a black man of medium height in a uniform similar to Captain Visser�s, watched the skies anxiously. �They were supposed to be here already,� he said to himself. �This is an exceedingly dangerous mission.� He and several others were standing next to a crumbling mine tunnel, one of many built into the side of the massive granite mountain. A full-size van with the markings �Johnson�s Construction Supplies� sat next to the tunnel. There were a few stunted trees around the mine site, but the majority of the area was cleared.

�Relax, sir,� Corporal Ron Patton, a tall reedy white man with an accent-less voice said. �They�ll be here sooner or later. Heck, Captain Visser�s got a squad of Reds with him. That�s enough to defeat just about anything. Besides, the raid�s on an outpost that had been raided less than 5 hours ago. They�re probably still cleaning up the mess from the first one.�

�You never know, Corporal,� Captain Thabo said. �The Americans have a project equal to the Red Series. This attack is being made as a favor to a man involved with the project who is, at present, an enemy of his superiors.� He didn�t tell the Corporal that the attack was being made on the Manticore facility itself. That info was on a need-to-know basis with the soldiers assigned to this operation.

�Captain,� Corporal Patton said. �I think our friends are in. That�s their chopper, up in the sky.�

�Yes,� Captain Thabo said. �And something�s wrong with it. It�s smoking or spewing fuel or something.� 

Inside the Helicopter, 9:07 PM 

�There�s the rendezvous site ahead of us,� the pilot said. �ETA two minutes.�

�How much gas do we have?� Captain Visser asked. �Is it enough to land safely?�

�We�ve got enough fuel for about a minute or so of flying. We�ll have to glide in.� He reached over to the radio unit and handed the handset to Captain Visser. �Call the people at the site and tell them that we�re experiencing fuel trouble and may have to attempt a crash landing. Tell them to get all the people and necessary equipment out of the clearing near the tunnel as soon as possible.�

�That seems sensible,� Captain Visser said, setting up the frequency. 

Rendezvous Point, 9:08 PM 

�Everybody get clear!� Captain Thabo roared as soon as he heard Captain Visser�s announcement. �All people and essential equipment, get off to the side!� The soldiers waiting for the arrival scrambled, most running off to the side while some tried to move needed equipment. Corporal Patton jumped for the truck, trying to get it moving before the Blackhawk come roaring in. 

Inside the Helicopter, Same Time 

The rotors shut down. �As you can tell, Captain, we�re out of fuel,� the pilot said. �I�ll have to glide in. I�d like all of you to be quiet so I can concentrate.� Captain Visser looked over the pilot�s shoulder to see that men and equipment were being cleared out of the way, giving them a relatively clear area for their crash landing.

�Captain Thabo�s got a good head on his shoulders,� Captain Visser said. The two had fought together in the Third Boer War against the Marxist-controlled South African government many years in the past and both had immense respect for each other�s talents. He was especially thankful that the truck was being moved out of the way. That truck was their only safe way of transport to Seattle.

The helicopter began to lose altitude at a much faster rate than before. The pilot kept the helicopter on a steady bearing towards the designated landing zone, the cleared area that led directly towards the mine tunnel. The men on the ground had cleared the area completely, which meant that no mission personnel or equipment were in danger from this particular screw-up, Captain Visser thought. The chopper kept spiraling downward, the wind roaring outside the craft. 

Rendezvous Point, 9:09 PM 

�They�re coming in fast,� Captain Thabo commented as he saw the Blackhawk-D roaring down from the sky. There was no dark cloud about the craft, the Captain observed, so they were out of gas and not just extremely low on it. The craft was now about a thousand feet from the landing site and coming down fast. Its passage through the air made a colossal roaring sound, like a deeper version of a World War II dive-bomber. He looked to his right to see that Corporal Patton had moved the van off to the side, away from any possible flying debris. 

Inside the Helicopter, Same Time 

�We�re going hit come in on our bellies,� the pilot yelled over the rushing wind. �And we�re going be sliding a ways. Be prepared for a bumpy ride!�

�Everyone grab on to something!� Captain Visser roared to the Reds behind him. �One of you get hold of Max! We don�t want to risk her going flying out of the chopper and getting impaled on something this late in the game.�

�Yes sir,� Vornster said, bracing himself between Max and the cabin wall. �She won�t go flying out unless I go too.� 

Rendezvous Point, 9:10 PM 

The helicopter hit the ground on its underside, tearing away the skid that had been loosened by gunfire. The initial impact shook debris loose from the damaged parts of the helicopter and one of the Reds went tumbling out the side and rolling along the cleared area, coming to a rest near a stunted tree. The chopper slid along, still going extremely fast and every time it hit a bump or dip the ground, it jolted its passengers.

�Remind me to recommend that pilot for an award,� Captain Thabo said. �That is some good flying.�

The chopper slid into the mine tunnel, the sides of the entrance clipping the rotors. It ground to a halt at the end of the tunnel, looking much the worse for wear. Captain Thabo and a couple other South Africans walked over to the entrance of the tunnel and looked down. 

�Are you all right down there?� he called. �Captain?�

�We�re fine,� a harsh, guttural voice said. �Lovely flight.� Vornster, the speaker, climbed out of the smashed remains of the chopper. Captain Visser and other Reds followed. The last Red Series soldier emerged with Max on his shoulder. She was still out cold.

�Potent drugs,� Captain Visser commented. She�s way, way out.� Then he saw Captain Thabo. �Hey Roger!� he called down to the tunnel. �Is that you down there?�

�Yes, Jan,� Captain Thabo yelled back. �Lovely landing.�

�I know,� he said. Then he smiled. �Mission accomplished!�

�Good. Now we don�t have much time for conversation. Get her and your men to that van and drive like hell. This area will be full of troops soon. What happened to your chopper?�

�Two Apaches got the drop on us over the Yellowstone River. We managed to bring them down.�

�In a covert ops Blackhawk? I�ll have to recommend that pilot for a medal.�

�Me too. He got a little banged up in the crash, though. Get him into normal clothing and take him to the nearest hospital. He�s most likely broken his arm and some ribs.� While he was speaking, two of the Reds had extracted the pilot from the chopper and carried him towards the entrance. Captain Visser and the other Reds followed. As they passed Captain Thabo and the others, the white Captain and the black Captain shook hands. �If I make it back, I�ll buy you a beer in Cape Town,� Captain Visser promised.

�Not if I get there first,� Captain Thabo said. The two men laughed as though they were sharing a private joke. �Now get in that van and run. My people will take care of the pilot and do something about that chopper.�

�That thing�s got all kinds of stuff that�ll trace back home,� Captain Visser said. �If you can�t find some way to get that chopper flyable or to transport it home, set it on fire and then either bury what�s left of it in the mine or toss it in the river. We don�t want reprisals.�

�I�ll make sure to do that. Now get out of here. Ten to one all those Sector people will be watching for anyone suspicious. The fact that this truck is coming out of an area where a fugitive helicopter went down is going to get you in enough trouble.�

�Yes,� Captain Visser and he and his men set off towards the truck. 

Out on the Highway, 10:30 PM 

They had been driving for one hour and twenty minutes when they came to the state�s border with Idaho and the checkpoint. They were the only ones other than the Sector cops there.

�We�ll be through relatively quickly,� one of the Reds, who were sitting in the backseat with the still-unconscious Max, commented. �There�s no line.� 

�But the guards won�t be under pressure to hurry up any inspections they might make, because there�s no line,� Captain Visser, who was driving, said. �Two sides of the same coin. Let�s hope it lands on yours.� He gestured to Max and the Red pulled her down in the seat, out of sight.

They stopped at the checkpoint, a huge, imposing barricade that stretched across the four-lane highway with gates across the lanes. Four cops armed with automatic rifles stood guard, one per lane. In a fortified booth, a man sat with a computer. Captain Visser turned towards the Reds.

�Are all the weapons secure in the hidden compartments?� Captain Visser asked the Reds. They all nodded. The intelligence people had built hidden compartments into the seats and the floor of the van to hide weapons or other items that might interest the authorities. They had also reinforced the van�s structure, improving its survivability in the event of a fight.

One of the Sector cops, a squat, muscular man, walked up to the van. �Do you folks have any IDs?�

�Yes sir,� Captain Visser said. He withdrew one of the wallets from his disguise, a pair of workmen�s overalls worn over a white shirt. His superiors had given him wallets with varying amounts of money and different identities, to improve mobility in enemy territory. The wallet he had picked identified him as Hans Olaf, a construction worker and resident of Gillette, a city in the general area of Manticore.

�Little far from Gillette,� the Sector cop said. �Where�re you going?�

�Seattle,� Captain Visser answered truthfully. �Construction work. The boss hired us out to another firm and he�s having me drive the people all the way there. Construction workers on business trips, that�s not something one sees every day.� That part was false, but telling the truth of the mission would lead the man to arrest him for driving under the influence or question him about his mental condition or both. The Sector cop had called out �Hans Olaf!� to the man with the computers. The man had typed furiously, then looked up and nodded.

�We don�t have anything on file for you,� the cop said. �Hope Seattle works out. Go on.� The gate on their lane slid open and they drove along into the night. 

Bill�s Bar and Motel, 12:30 PM 

Captain Visser yawned as he pulled into the parking lot of a roadside rest stop/bar/motel. All around them lay an empty expanse, with a scenic mountain backdrop. The building was made of wood, seemed a little rickety, and had lots of neon lights. A man�s head with a giant cowboy hat had been assembled out of the neon lights and it lit up the sky. Four motorcycles and a couple of older cars were parked in front of the structure, and some seedy men in leather jackets were leaning near the door.

�Okay,� Captain Visser said. �We�ll stay here for tonight and set out again tomorrow. By the day after tomorrow, we�ll be in Seattle and our particular mission will be over.� He took a small bundle from a compartment on the door and climbed out of the van, the Reds following. Vornster carried Max.

�Hey fellas,� one of the seedy-looking men said. The two of them reeked of alcohol. �Hot chick ya got there,� one of them said when he saw Vornster and Max. Are you folks taking her to this motel here to��

Captain Visser grimaced. �Hell no,� he said.

�Well, if you aren�t, then can we?�

�No,� Captain Visser said, firmly.

�I think we should,� one of the men said in a sinisterly insistent voice. He drew a knife from inside his jacket. �And you�re going to let us.�

Captain Visser didn�t speak. Instead, he kicked the hand with the knife in it. The knife went flying, bounced off the walls, and clattered into the parking lot. He spun around, kicking the same man in the head and sending him flying headfirst into the wall. There was a nasty knocking sound and the man went down, unconscious. The other man threw a punch at him, only to have his arm seized in mid-flight. Captain Visser twisted the arm and used the momentum that the man still had to flip him. The man landed face-first on the concrete, breaking his nose. Captain Visser then spat on him.

�If you had tried this back home, you�d be breaking rocks. Now you�ve just had some bones broken. Consider yourself lucky.� He pushed the drunk aside with his foot. �Come on,� he said to the Reds. He then entered the bar.

There weren�t many people at the bar, a dimly-lit establishment that smelled of cheap booze and cigarette smoke. There were a couple of biker types like the two drunks that Captain Visser had just beaten up, along with some sleazy-looking women. There was a thin man in a business suit who looked out of place and somewhat uneasy. Captain Visser went straight to the bartender, a man who wore an apron with a loaded ammo belt across the chest and who had two matched shotguns on the wall above him. The man was wiping the bar and looked up when he saw the Captain and the Reds, who stood behind him.

�Can I help you?� he asked.

�Two guys tried to make trouble with my associates over there, including my lady friend who went a little overboard at a bar and we ended up having to carry her out. They�re out on the sidewalk. One guy�s got a broken nose, the other guy�s unconscious and might have some head damage. Can you deal with them?� The two biker types glared at Captain Visser, who turned and glared right back.

�Go out and get your biker brothers, if you care about them that much. Nobody and I mean nobody goes and does what they tried to do when I�m around. Understand?� The two biggest Reds stepped up behind Captain Visser, accentuating the point.

Sullenly, the two men got up and went outside. Captain Visser turned to the bartender.

�It�s a little late and we�ve got places to go. How many people can you fit max into a room?�

�Four, I think,� the man said.

�Get me two rooms; we�ll fill them up. I don�t want people prowling around and I don�t want any questions asked.�

�Fine with me,� the man said. �How much you got?�

Captain Visser took the bundle from his pocket and shook it slightly over an open palm. Several Kruger rands, heavy South African gold coins that had been a prized item for decades in a more affluent America and represented a veritable fortune in the post-Pulse depression, dropped into his hand. The bartender�s eyes widened massively at the sight.

�All this for this whole group. No maid service, laundry, nothing. If you can stick with that, I�ll give you a couple more in the morning.� He had plenty of the coins, so it wasn�t that big a deal. Still, his superiors said to use the Kruger rands to impress the Americans into doing anything that was exceedingly important and needed doing. They might be even more persuasive than paper money, even large bills, to the down-on-their-luck Uitlanders.

�For that much real gold, I�d let you stay here forever.� Captain Visser saw that he had given the man four Kruger rands, a quarter pound of solid gold. At current prices, that should fetch the man $2,000; quite a price for a night at a substandard motel. If the man did what he asked, $1,000 more would be added to his stake. 

Captain Visser smiled gamely. �Sorry I can�t take you up on that offer. Invest that wisely.� That bar needed better liquor and lighting, he thought. The man handed him two keys.

�A1 and A2,� he said. �Sleep tight.� 

Motel Room A1, 2:50 AM 

Max�s eyes flew open. She was in a dark room in a strange bed and her hands and feet were free.

�Where am I?� she whispered to herself. Then she remembered the strange turn of events that had led to her getting out of Manticore. She widened her pupils, improving her night vision by a factor of twenty. She was in a bed in a seedy motel; two of the Reds were sleeping in the bed across from her. The other half of the bed was empty. She slipped out from under the sheets and looked around. The room was sparse; the only furniture besides the two beds was an old-looking nightstand with an open Gideon Bible atop it. A hallway led away from the main room. There was someone near the door and Max stalked towards him.

A blinding light suddenly blazed and Max found Captain Visser sitting in a chair, shining a flashlight at her. When he saw her, he smiled.

�Had enough beauty sleep?� he asked. �There�s nowhere for me to sleep at present and I wasn�t really tired anyway.�

�You�re being very sociable for a commander of dying men,� Max commented. �Did you tell them that capturing me would save their lives when it really won�t? I had a run-in with a batch of Reds led by a man named Johannesson and he told them that if they got me, it would save their lives. When one of the Reds found out it was false, he killed him.�

�Our mission, my dear, was simple. Lydecker asked us to retrieve your body before they could vivisect it and harvest your organs. At the time, he thought you were dead. I think he�ll be surprised,� Captain Visser replied. �Johannesson was a jerk anyway, a nasty, manipulative man, and a con artist to boot. We were trained how to lead Reds together and he kept trying to get me involved in wild schemes to make money. I guess one of his con jobs backfired. Good riddance.�

�Why does Lydecker want my body?� Suddenly, she had a very nasty thought. �He said I reminded him of his dead wife. Does he want to�� She finished the sentence with a gulp to signify her point.

Captain Visser grimaced. �I doubt it. He mentioned a friend of yours who he had to knock out to drag away from your body. I suppose it�s for your friend�s benefit, not the Colonel�s.� Max�s eyes widened at this. As Max lay near death, Logan had held her and cried. She didn�t remember anything afterward, but she assumed that Captain Visser was talking about him.

�Okay,� Max said. �It�s been a nice conversation, but you�re blocking the door and you seem too nice for me to beat up. Move or I may get physical.�

Captain Visser refused to budge. His eyes focused on her. They were completely neutral, like a snake�s. The two stared at each other for a moment, testing each other�s wills. 

�I�m going to count to three,� Max said, starting to get somewhat angry. �And if you don�t, I�m going to pick you up and toss you through the wall.�

�Max, we are going to take you back to Seattle and that�s it. We have transport and we have the IDs and such necessary to get through the checkpoints, of which there are several between here and the city. It would take you weeks to get to Seattle on your own; we�ll be there this time tomorrow night. Besides,� he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. �The longer it takes you to get to Seattle, the more likely it is that something will happen to Logan. Colonel Lydecker told me that Renfro, his former boss whom he hates, is interested in killing Logan for his act of revealing Manticore to the world. Lydecker doesn�t have Manticore�s resources at his disposal anymore, so he cannot protect your friend. If we get there soon, we can keep Logan from harm. If you overpower me and run, it might be months before you get home and by then Logan could be dead.�

Max�s jaw dropped. She hadn�t thought of that. She�d rather hang around with the rather disputatious Captain Visser and his creepy Reds for a couple of days than risk Logan�s life. Besides, if they tried anything funny, she�d kick their collective ass.

�Besides,� Captain Visser continued. �As long as you�re with us, we can find ways to hide you. If you went out on your own, people would see you and Manticore would have most likely put a bulletin out describing you as a hooker or mass murderer or terrorist or something and they�d report you. The fact that it would take longer getting to Seattle on foot would magnify the risk of detection further. However, if you stayed with my group, we�d be there in 36 hours and they aren�t looking for a construction crew, which we�ve disguised ourselves as, now are they?�

Max exhaled in exasperation. �Fine, Captain. But if you try to kidnap me or vivisect me, or something else, I�m going to kill you first. Got it?�

�Sure,� Captain Visser said confidently. Then he yawned. �Time for some sleep, for both of us I think. I haven�t slept since yesterday and you probably need to rest awhile to ward off the effects of whatever those Manticore goons had pumped you full of. You can have the other bed if you�d like. The chair works for me.� 

Manticore Command Center, 3:00 AM 

�Dr. Renfro, this is an outrage. On your watch, four X-5s destroyed the genetics lab and you only managed to capture two of them! Then one of them is broken out by a unit of commandos who massacre most of the X-7s and kill more of the guards and one of our valuable scientists!� Herb Johnson, the rather florid Chairman of the Executive Committee of Special Projects, yelled at Dr. Elizabeth Renfro, Lydecker�s mysterious boss, over the telephone. �To top it off, you still haven�t located and eliminated that traitor Colonel Lydecker!�

�Chairman, please. It�s only been a few hours since the two raids and we need time. Two Apaches located at nearby bases managed to get a bead on the commandos� vehicle, but they were shot down somewhere over Yellowstone forests. We know that they�re in the region somewhere and haven�t had the time to leave,� Renfro pleaded.

�Well hurry up and get them before they do leave!� Johnson roared. �The damage to the labs will cause us to catch hell and they�ve damaged the project immensely. How many X-5s do you even have that you can use to sweep the surrounding areas in search of the fugitives?�

�Very few. One of ours is wounded, while the other will need some work before we can send him out. All but two of the X-7s are dead and although using children for base defense might be useful, we can�t send out a hunting team made up of them! We need time.�

�Very well,� Johnson said curtly. �Put out a description for the fugitive X-5 on the horn in all the surrounding states. They couldn�t have possibly left the Wyoming-Idaho-Montana area in a few hours. Say she�s a terrorist or something similar. Do you have a description of the people she was with?�

�Not really. The security system hack that enabled the rogue X-5s to get in was still in place, so we don�t have security footage. The people who actually made contact with the commandos were killed, with one exception. He�s grievously wounded and may die, so we can�t rely on him as a witness.�

�Well, let�s hope he pulls through. I�m leaving this matter in your hands, but be quick about it!� Johnson hung up the phone.

�Well,� Renfro said ominously. �We�ll need to get to work on the second X-5, now won�t we?� 

Motel Room A1, 7:50 AM 

Max woke up again and scanned the room. The bed adjacent was empty, as was Captain Visser�s chair near the door. Max figured the Reds didn�t need too much sleep due to their hyper-adrenalized state, but Captain Visser was un-enhanced and should have the same sleep needs as anyone else. She climbed out of the bed and moved silently towards the door. As soon as she got to the door, she opened it and stepped out.

The hallway resembled the rest of the establishment, somewhat dilapidated but still functional. Nobody was out there, so she slid out. She moved along the wall, alert for every sound. There was a glass doorway at the end of the hall that allowed the bright sun of the early Idaho morning in. She was about four feet from the door when it opened and Captain Visser walked it. He was sipping coffee from a mug that had something in Afrikaans written on it and his eyes were bloodshot. He was obviously not getting enough sleep.

�Good morning to you,� he said. �Sleep well?�

�I�ve gotten all the sleep I�ll probably need for the next couple of weeks,� she said. �We X-5s don�t need to sleep much.�

�Excellent. The Reds are readying the van. We�ll be getting out of here soon enough. The proprietor is ecstatic that I paid him so much, in gold besides.� He stepped past Max. �Don�t wander off. I�ve got to lock the motel rooms my people have occupied.� As he walked down the hall, Max moved quickly towards the door and stepped out.

The parking lot in front of the building was mostly empty. The only vehicles there were two small cars and an old van with the words �Johnson�s Construction Supplies� emblazoned on the side. Two of the Reds were in the van while the others stood outside it. 

Interrogation Cell 115, Manticore, 8:00 AM 

�Good morning to you,� Renfro said to the man bound to the dentist�s chair-like interrogation seat. �Ready for another go-round.� The steel door behind her was closed and the two surviving X-7s and several normal Black Ops troops guarded the outside. The room was incredibly secure.

�Hardly,� the man spat. �Why don�t you go to hell?�

�Come now,� Renfro said, stroking the man�s cheek in a mockery of tenderness. �You�re all alone here. Your friend is dead, despite all your heroics.� The man recoiled from her touch, but due to his restraints, he couldn�t get too far. �You�re home, X-5. Why not embrace who you are?�

�Because that would gratify you, bitch,� the bound man said. However, something in his voice sounded broken. The news of the other�s death must have shaken him.

�Three of you are dead and four of you have been recaptured, not including you,� Renfro said with phony tenderness. �That leaves only five of you who remain free. You can tell us.�

�Never,� the man said.

�Don�t worry,� she said sweetly. �You will.�

She drew a needle from a box next to the chair and drew it to the man�s neck. The man recoiled, trying to get away from the needle. She inserted it into the captive�s neck and injected all of its greenish contents.

�We got a shipment of these about an hour ago, so you�ll be the first to use a fresh batch. We�ve learned from our previous experience with you, Zack. These psycho-actives are much, much more potent than the ones we used on you when we last had you. Now, I�ll just leave you here alone, in Hell,� Renfro said sweetly. �You hear? You�re in Hell.� The psycho-active drugs worked by suggestion. He would see what she described; it had worked when Lydecker drugged him and told him that Max had come to save him before �Eyes Only� got involved and it should work now. She smiled.

She kissed the man�s forehead and left the room. The steel door swung shut behind her with an ominous clang. Bound to his chair, X-5/599, known to his friends as Zack, began shivering. The psycho-active drugs that she had administered would scramble his perceptions and make his worst nightmares come true. He continued to think about what she had described. This was obviously an attempt to break him. The hellfire-and-brimstone imagery she mentioned would most likely be used to weaken him, to open him to Manticore brainwashing. That was a mistake, he thought, trying to suppress the imagery. Thinking about it constantly would feed the hallucinations the drugs caused and that�

The room began to spin, darkening. Within a few seconds, it transformed completely into a dark room with gray walls. Some light came in through the bars on the door. Zack looked around. �What the hell is going on here?� he asked.

�Hell is going on here,� a strange, hissing voice said. Zack turned towards the source of the sound to see a pair of glowing yellow-green eyes. The owner of the eyes stepped forward and Zack froze with fear. It was one of the Anomalies!

This particular Anomaly was dressed in total gray and wore no shoes. A thin chain linked a bracelet on his foot to the wall. He looked human enough, except he had talons on his fingers. His general unwashed appearance and black, greasy hair, however, gave him a demonic look.

�You know how you thought that we ate your friends?� the Anomaly hissed. �Well, we did.� The Anomaly gestured to the right and Zack looked to see several more Anomalies. A few were human-looking, like the first, but there were some who looked bizarre. A werewolf-looking creature that was slurping an eye out of a human skull glowered at him. A strange creature that looked like a humanoid panther hung on the ceiling by his/her claws. In the corner, guarding a mangled, unrecognizable body, was an even more strange-looking Anomaly. The creature had a tentacle for a right arm, a tentacle that was wrapped around a severed arm. It also had three eyes and fangs. A stunted, slimy arm protruded from his side. The clawed hand that tipped the arm clutched at a chunk of what Zack recognized as a human brain. All of them were bound to the wall by chains on their legs.

�You�re next on the menu, X-5/599.� The Anomalies began stalking towards him� 

Near the Washington Border, 12:50 PM (Time Zone Change) 

Captain Visser yawned, trying to keep his eyes on the road. They had been driving for hours and were now approaching the border with Washington. The massive checkpoint lay ahead. Captain Visser turned to Vornster, who was sitting directly behind him.

�Vornster, in ten minutes or so, it�s your turn to drive. I�m tired right now and I might fall asleep at the wheel. Are you up to driving for a few hours?�

�If you can tell me the directions along the way or give me a good sense of where to go, sir,� Vornster replied, his voice even.

�Uh oh,� Captain Visser said. �We�ve got trouble.�

The checkpoint, which, like the others, Captain Visser assumed was staffed by less than five guards, now bristled with them. There were at least ten of them on this one, some armed with heavy weapons. Two cars were ahead of them, with the first car being searched thoroughly by Sector cops.

�Max,� Captain Visser said to the rogue X-5, who was sitting behind him between Vornster and another Red. �I think that they�re looking for you.� He thought for a moment. �How on Earth will we be able to hide you?� He thought some more and turned behind him to the Reds.

�How many automatic guns do we have?�

�Eight, sir,� one of the Reds sitting to the rear of the vehicle said. �We have about 2,000 rounds of ammunition total, plus a few grenades. We can use this car as a hard-point while we shoot the soldiers, sir.�

�Not a good idea. Some of those Sector cops have rocket launchers and .50 caliber rifles. The heavy rifles can eviscerate this vehicle and the rockets can turn it into a flaming death trap. You folks may be able to survive most bullet wounds but all those guys shooting at you would be lethal. I think that it would be a good idea to try to outsmart these characters rather than try to outfight them,� Captain Visser replied. �Too bad Mfune and his rocket launcher were obliterated by that helicopter. If we had more men and even one heavy weapon, it would improve our chances of survival greatly.�

The first car evidently passed inspection and went through the checkpoint. The second one moved up to the gate and the Sector cops had its occupants, two ordinary-looking teenage girls, step out of the car. They then proceeded to paw through the interior. The trunk popped open, evidently opened by the Sector cop searching the driver�s seat. A Sector cop closer to the rear rifled through the trunk�s contents, a couple of shopping bags.

�Time is running out,� Captain Visser said. �Think, think, think.�

�Perhaps,� Max said, �I could slip out of the van, go around the checkpoint, and meet you on the other side.�

�Not a good idea,� Captain Visser said. �We�re too close to the checkpoint. They�ll see you.�

�Well, do you have any hiding places in this van for someone my size?�

Captain Visser thought a bit. If they removed the guns from their hiding places, they might be able to fit Max inside one of them. However, if the Sector cops noticed the guns, mostly Israeli-made Uzi automatic weapons, they might try an even more thorough search. That would not be a good idea. The cops would look under the seats, so they couldn�t cram Max there.

�Fine,� Captain Visser said exasperatedly. �Just remember that going about by yourself will make you more vulnerable to capture.�

�Why are you so concerned about me running off?� Max asked suspiciously. �I thought your superiors south of the Equator had all the Manticore stuff that they wanted?�

�Yes, but Lydecker wanted us to be very careful with you and not to lose you. My superiors concurred. That wouldn�t be too hard if you were dead, as we thought at the beginning of our mission, but it turns out you�re alive. Your previous experience with the Reds has made you very suspicious of us, so you�re probably always thinking of strategies to ditch us as soon as possible. I�m telling you that running off at this point would be dangerous because Manticore�s stepping up the search, most likely. Now if you�re going to get out of here, go.�

Max wriggled out from between Vornster and the other Red towards the space between the seats and the wall. Then, she slid back to the rear doors of the van and opened them. Once the doors were open, she jumped out and bolted down the road behind them.

�I do hope she comes back,� Captain Visser said to himself. �Or else the Kommandant [South African equivalent of a Lt. Colonel] will bust me back down to Private and have me sent as an advisor to the Israeli occupation forces in Syria. An unarmed advisor.�

Max ran on the highway directly behind the van until she thought that she was out of sight distance of the men on the checkpoint. Then, she ran hard to her left, off the highway. There was a tract of forest next to the checkpoint and she thought she could slip through it to the other side. Careful not to attract attention from the Sector cops, she crept along the grassy space between the westbound highway leading into Washington and the eastbound highway leading out of the state. The forest was just ahead and the Sector cops were busy finishing up with the teenagers� car. As the girls left with their merchandise and the South Africans� van moved towards the spot directly in front of the gate, Max decided to make a run for the forest.

Apparently the guards were busy with the large vehicle, so they didn�t notice her. While they were poking at the van, she ran along the grass towards the trees at a dead run. She made it into the forests without much trouble and walked westwards, hoping to slip by the checkpoint. She hoped that the Sector cops hadn�t hidden soldiers in the woods, to prevent similar moves.

There weren�t any soldiers. Instead, there was an electrified fence with a sign that said �45,000 volts.� Even with her increased strength and endurance, that fence was a lethal barrier. She thought for a moment, looking from the fence through the trees to the van. She saw Captain Visser and the Reds standing outside the car while the Sector cops rummaged through it. She used her enhanced hearing to listen in on the conversations that the Sector cops were having.

�The woman isn�t in the van,� she heard one of the cops say from hundreds of yards away. �And there�s nothing suspicious in here. Should we let them pass?�

�Look through it again,� another cop said. �Just in case.�

Max looked back to the fence. It was about fifteen feet high; she could probably jump over it. Still, one misstep and she would fry. The Manticore drugs were still in her system, so she didn�t trust her physical abilities totally. She looked about, searching for something to use to get around the fence.

There. Fifteen feet away, there was a fallen log that didn�t look too heavy. Since wood didn�t conduct electricity, she could toss it on the fence, run up the log, and jump off the top. No problem. She walked over to the log and hefted it. The log was heavier than it looked, but she could maneuver it. She dragged it towards the fence and twisted it around to make sure it would fall the right way.

Then she let it drop. 

Checkpoint Control Center, 12:53 PM 

Klaxons blazed and Captain Harold Rucker looked to the computerized grid that helped keep the checkpoint secure. The flashing light, which showed where the security breach occurred, showed that the electric fence that made the woods impassable had been violently shorted out. A monotone electronic voice soon confirmed the grid�s reading.

�Sector fence hit by solid, heavy object. Electricity down. Probability of intrusion is high.�

�Five of you, go check this out!� Captain Rucker ordered from the armored booth that was a feature of all state-border checkpoints. Five Sector cops, each armed with assault rifles, dashed towards the woods. The other five who remained, two of whom were armed with .50 caliber rifles and one of whom had a rocket launcher, went on alert and took the safeties off their weapons. 

Inside the Van, 12:54 AM 

After their van had been checked for a second time, the guards had given them leave to enter the state of Washington and the South Africans had been allowed back into their vehicle. The plan was to go through the gate and meet up with Max on the other side. However, the fact that Max�s ruse had failed changed the plans considerably.

�All right,� Captain Visser said from the driver�s seat. �Change of plans. We�re going to have to wreck this place and help Max. Get out your weapons, lower your windows, and start shooting. Nail the guys with antitank weapons first, since they can do us the most damage. Then try to hit the guys going into the woods. Avoid firing into the woods proper, since you might hit Max.�

�Yes sir!� the Reds all said, ready to kick ass. They all reached to the seats ahead of them and flipped hidden switches, opening up secret compartments. They took the assault rifles and other weapons out and checked the ammunition and the safeties. The guns were loaded and the safeties were off. In the front seat, Captain Visser lowered all the windows and flipped a hidden switch near the gas pedal. A fully automatic Uzi pistol and two hand grenades dropped out.

The Reds raised their weapons to the windows and aimed at the surprised Sector cops. Then they opened fire. 

Checkpoint Proper, Same Time 

Captain James Muldoon ducked behind a substantial-looking bush as soon as he saw the glint of rifles in the windows of the van. When he had checked the vehicle, mere minutes before, they had no weapons. Now, it seemed everyone in that vehicle was armed. Gunfire roared and one of the cops, the only one with the rocket launcher, went down with blood spurting from his throat. Captain Muldoon raised his .50 caliber rifle, a weapon capable of skewering an APC from end-to-end and even destroying inferior tanks, and returned fire. 

Inside the Van, 12:55 PM 

There was a roar and massive projectile punched through the steel walls of the van. A second later, it punched out the other side. However, on its path through, it punched through Vornster�s chest. The South African collapsed, blood trickling from his mouth. His weapon clattered to the floor of the vehicle.

�Damn it,� Captain Visser swore angrily. Only two of the Sector cops were dead, excluding the man in the control center who was most likely calling for reinforcements. At least the rocket launcher was out of action. Now, the only weapons capable of punching through the vehicle�s reinforced hide were two .50 caliber rifles. Unless special ammunition had been issued, those weapons weren�t explosive.

Captain Visser pointed his pistol at the armored both in which the checkpoint commander was calling frantically for reinforcements. He then squeezed the trigger, holding it down and making extreme effort to avoid having the weapon pull itself up in midair as fully-automatic weapons had a tendency to do. The bullets slammed into the Plexiglas windows of the control center and bounced off, leaving scores in the resistant material. The man ducked back reflexively, but he would soon get back to work. Captain Visser growled in frustration. If only he had some steel-jacketed bullets, he could have perforated the man and prevent possible reinforcement. The place would most likely be crawling with soldiers soon and he had no illusions about how that situation would work out.

He decided on a desperate stratagem. The Sector cops had already completed their inspection of the vehicle and they had raised the bar that blocked the roadway. The man in the control center must obviously not be thinking. Captain Visser floored the accelerator and the van rocketed towards the gateway and freedom. 

Checkpoint Control Center, 12:56 PM 

Captain Rucker saw the van with its lethal passengers hurtling towards the gateway. Allowing them to escape and continue whatever illegal activity that they were trying to protect would be impermissible, so he pressed the button that would lower the reinforced-steel emergency grille that would withstand anything up to a tank. He jammed the button, hoping it would block their entry into Washington. 

The Other Side of the Electric Fence, Same Time 

Max heard the roar of gunfire through the trees and realized her uneasy allies had now revealed themselves as being more than construction workers. At least her plan to get over the electric fence by shorting it out with a log and then using the log as a ramp worked. There was now a fairly sizable hole in the Washington border.

�Oh well,� she said flippantly. �Best-laid plans and all that.� Then she heard the men on the other side of the fence.

�Freeze,� one of them said, pointing an assault rifle at her. �Attempting to breach a checkpoint is punishable by two years at hard labor.� The other Sector cops raised their weapons, leaving her targeted with five automatic weapons. �Surrender now or we won�t be responsible for the consequences.�

Max studied the situation. The cables of the fence were between them and her; those would deflect some of the bullets. Still, she was not inclined to risk being shot to death, a fate that had nearly occurred to her just recently. She thought a moment. What to do.

�Finally we get a break,� one of the Sector cops said. �Most suspects just won�t surrender.� Suddenly, Max had a plan.

Moving faster than they could blink, she leaped towards the fence and the log that sat atop it. She hit the log with both feet, using it to re-direct her momentum. Two of the cops fired their guns at her, but their shots missed her and wrecked the trees instead. She ended up about twenty feet farther from her previous position, in some cover. She then took off running. Bullets tore through the foliage around her, but none hit. As she ran along, she heard them cursing in the far distance. It would take them awhile to get around that fence. By then, she would be long gone. 

Inside the Van, Same Time 

The gate was only about forty feet away and Captain Visser was flooring the accelerator. Soon, he would be beyond this checkpoint and free of trouble. Then, he saw the grille descending from the underside of the gate. Despite the speed at which the van was going, he knew that there would be a collision. �Uh oh,� was all he could say before the impact.

The grille had descended only a few feet; that wasn�t enough to fully block the fast-moving vehicle. Still, it had descended enough to do damage. Steel bit into steel and a sizable piece of the vehicle�s roof was torn backwards. The van had been reinforced, so its hide was as strong or stronger than the grille. The grille was bent outward with the impact, but it continued to descend. The van�s mass and speed worked in its favor; although a sizable portion of the vehicle�s roof was torn back like the lid of a package of sardines, a big chunk of the grille was ripped off the checkpoint and dragged along with the South Africans� escape vehicle.

Sporadic gunfire continued to pursue them, but it dropped off as they got further and further away from the Sector cops. There was no sign of American reinforcements, but Captain Visser wasn�t going to take any chances.

�Men, once we retrieve Max, we�ll have to abandon the vehicle. It�s too distinctive in appearance now and they probably have the license plate number. We�ll have to take Vornster�s body with us and dispose of it in the usual fashion, which we couldn�t do for Mfune. She should be appearing along the road somewhere, if she�s following the plan.� If she isn�t following the plan and has decided to split, Captain Visser thought, then we are in big trouble. 

Edge of the Forests, 12:57 PM 

Nearly a quarter mile from the checkpoint, Max stuck her head out from the trees and looked down the interstate. With her improved vision, she could see the checkpoint in the distance. Still no sign of the South Africans though. She stepped cautiously out of the trees, looking around a bit. No sign of anyone. She listened. When she cycled her improved hearing up, she could hear the sound of an engine.

The Reds� van came into view a moment later. It was quite a sight. There were numerous ricochet marks on the sides and a couple of large holes. Some of the windows were broken. What was more unusual was the roof. A big chunk of it could only be described as being �peeled� backwards about two feet or so, leaving the interior of the car exposed to the elements. At the end of the �peeled� area lay a sizable piece of a metal grille, like the sort they had to close off stores at shopping centers.

As Max stood dumbfounded, the van came to a stop in front of her. Captain Visser leaned his head out the driver�s window.

�Need a ride?� he asked. �We�ll have to ditch this soon, but it�ll do for awhile.�

Max thought a minute. Should she bolt and leave Captain Visser and his convict-soldiers behind? The Captain seemed like a nice guy, but she really didn�t trust the foreign military machine that had sent him. She�d been forced into too many alliances with enemies recently; first with Lydecker and now the Reds. The alliance with Lydecker had ended with her nearly dying and the death of Zack; who knows what could result from this?

�Hurry up,� Captain Visser said. �We don�t have all day.�

�Fine,� Max said in exasperation. They�d have to abandon the vehicle and find a new one and that provided an opportunity to escape them if necessary. She opened the passenger�s side door and got in. 

Manticore Command Center, 12:05 PM (Mountain Time Zone) 

�Mrs. Renfro, we�ve got a possible bead on the runaway X-5,� one of her aides said. �There�s been an incident at the border between Idaho and Washington; some Sector cops are dead and there�s been damage to the checkpoint. Reports are sketchy, but we think that the X-5 tried to get around the checkpoint separately from a group of men but something happened. There was a firefight and they all escaped. They�re traveling in a van that supposedly belongs to Johnson�s Construction Supplies. The roof of the van looks like an open can of anchovies and the license plate is DF-12405.�

�Excellent,� Renfro said. �Enter that into the computer log of the events of the last few days. You there,� she said, turning to an aide who was playing Solitaire on one of the room�s many computers. �Send word to the Washington Military Command. Tell them to be on the lookout for the X-5 and several armed men, travelling in a damaged Johnson�s Construction Supplies Van with the license plate DF-12405. Tell our people that the terrorists are Alaskan commandos. And don�t play games during business time!�

�Yes ma�am!� the man said hurriedly, turning his game off. As the man got to work, Renfro smiled. The circle was tightened around the renegade. Soon she�d be back at Manticore and she could devote her resources toward finding the other rogue X-5s, the traitor Lydecker, and the mysterious �Eyes Only� who seemed to hold it all together. Soon, she�d have an ally in the struggle who knew the targets well. She smiled icily. Things were looking up for a change. 

An Impound Lot, Delk Point, Eastern Washington, 2:25 PM 

�This is working out nicely,� Captain Visser said. �We can dump this van here, hotwire another one, and get out of here. It�ll be hours before we�re noticed. This vehicle sticks out and if we continue with it, we�re asking for trouble.� The entire group; Reds, Max, and Captain Visser, stood outside the chain-link, razor wire-topped fence of an impound lot in a small town in eastern Washington. Behind them sat their damaged van, its appearance very likely to attract attention. The impound lot was deserted. The South Africans all had their guns out and Vornster�s body lay outside the van. One of the pockets in Captain Visser�s pants hung open, partially revealing the bag with the Kruger rands in it.

�You don�t need to persuade me,� Max said. �Keep moving in enemy territory, remember?�

Captain Visser shrugged. �Whatever.� He studied the fence and the vehicles beyond, mostly older-model cars. �Are there any vehicles with the capacity to fit all of us, including Vornster�s body?� he asked himself, scanning the lot. His eyes lit on a van with the words �Big Jim�s Party Wagon� airbrushed on the side, the words sandwiched between paintings of two buxom women in skimpy bikinis chugging tequila. �This should do nicely.� He walked over to the gate, chain-link like the fence, and gestured to the heavy padlock. He looked towards the Reds.

�Boys, you know what to do.�

One of the Reds walked over and seized the padlock forcefully. He then gave it a powerful yank and it tore off. Captain Visser then pushed the gate open. �We go in,� he said, �grab a vehicle, drive it out, leave ours in its place, and depart. Make sure that everything important is destroyed before we leave it. We don�t want to give away any national secrets, do we?�

�No sir,� the Red who had torn open the gate said. He walked into the lot itself, the others close behind.

�Find the office, the room with all the keys. I think the vehicle we need is parked in space 45C, so there should be a set of keys with the corresponding pattern,� Captain Visser ordered the nearest Red. The convict-soldier ambled off towards a series of squat, cinder-block buildings that sat to the right of the lot. Captain Visser turned towards another Red. �Go to the main gate, the one that they open and close to let impounded vehicles in and out, then open it. You,� the Captain said, picking another Red, �bring our vehicle into the lot.� He withdrew the van�s keys from his pocket and tossed them to the Red.

�Now what?� Max asked the Captain. If he looks like he was up to something, Max thought, I�m outta here.

�Well, we�re going to appropriate that van and leave ours in its place. We�ll then proceed to Seattle. Once everything is set up, I�m supposed to contact headquarters and wait for new orders. If I�m lucky, I�ll be going home for awhile.�

�I take it you don�t like America,� Max said. �Not that I blame you. The place is a mess, ruled by fascist Republicans.�

�Your country has its positives and its negatives,� Captain Visser said easily. �Lovely landscape, lots of history. The majority of people are nice. Of course, there�s the whole martial-law situation and the fact that crime and poverty are far more common here than back home, but still. Give it a few years and things will turn out well.�

�I wish I could share your optimism,� Max said. �It�s been this way for ten years and these things tend to feed on themselves.�

There was a rumble as the third Red drove the van through the gate that the second Red had opened. The van threaded through the impounded cars easily enough and soon came to a stop near the van that the South Africans were intent on stealing. The first Red was nowhere to be found. Captain Visser looked at his watch. �It�s been an hour and a half since we ran that checkpoint. Nobody�s bothered us so far. I half-expected to be swarmed by soldiers within five minutes.�

�I heard helicopters a few minutes after I got back on board. We had turned down a gravel cut-through leading through the forests, so we probably weren�t noticed. Still, we need to ditch this vehicle as soon as possible,� Max said.

�How did you hear the choppers?� Captain Visser asked. �I didn�t hear anything.�

�Manticore, remember,� Max said, half-smiling. �Enhanced senses.�

�Oh,� Captain Visser said, yawning. �Once we�ve completed the vehicle change, I�m going to let one of the Reds drive. I really need to sleep.�

�Got the keys, sir,� the first Red called out from the building cluster. �We�ll be out of here in no time.�

�Good,� Captain Visser said. �I�ll be along in a moment.� He walked towards the original van. �Just need to give the vehicle a looking-over.� 

Interrogation Cell 115, 1:30 PM (Mountain Time Zone) 

The first Anomaly gnawed almost thoughtfully on Zack�s severed arm, as though he was savoring the flavor. �A little stringy,� he commented, �but it�ll do. Now, what part of him should we eat next?�

�I think it should be his liver!� the werewolf said in a strange, snuffling voice. �Those always taste the best.�

�Nah,� the tentacled, three-eyed creature retorted. �I think his brain would be the best.�

�We want him to stay alive through this,� the first Anomaly said. �That means, we should save the vitals for last. I think that maybe his eyes will do. They�re sort of like meaty grapes, you know.�

�Wake up!� a voice said, penetrating Zack�s hell-scape. The visions of the horrible Anomalies vanished at the sound and X-5/599 was back to reality. He was still chained to the chair, his body covered in sweat. Renfro was standing next to him, stroking his forehead with mock sweetness.

�Are you more receptive to Manticore now, X-5/599?� Renfro asked. �I can always pump you full of more psycho-actives and leave you in that chair for a couple of days. I�ll break your will wide open, Zack, trust me.� She smiled evilly.

�Go�to hell,� Zack gasped. �Isn�t that witty?�

Renfro didn�t smile. �You�ll be going to hell, Zack. For quite awhile now. Under the influence of those drugs, hours can seem like years.� She drew another syringe from somewhere and injected him with red fluid. �This is more intense,� Renfro said. �You�ll be busy for quite awhile�in Hell.� Renfro swept out of the room, shutting the steel door behind her. The room appeared still for awhile, then began to�twist somehow.

�Maybe we should save him for later,� the first Anomaly commented. �Hang him on those hooks in the ceiling.� The werewolf picked Zack up and jammed him onto something on the wall. The hook ripped through his shoulder and curved into his rib cage. Excruciating pains shot through his body.

�Maybe,� the werewolf said. �We should torment him by throwing bones at him.�

It was starting again and Zack, for the first time in more than a decade, whimpered in fear and absolute despair. 

Impound Lot, Delk Point, 2:31 PM 

Big Jim�s Party Wagon, currently the escape vehicle of a squad of South African commandos and a rogue X-5, rumbling out of the impound lot. The motley crew had left their former escape vehicle, a specially-modified van, in the spot where the Party Wagon was before. The South Africans had removed all weapons and intelligence gadgetry from the van, so the team couldn�t be traced back to South Africa.

Captain Visser sat next to Max in the seat behind the driver, out cold. Hermann Rohatgi, a huge Indian with several strange scars on his face and a tattoo of a hydra on his forehead, was driving. Vornster�s corpse was crammed into the trunk; when Max asked why, Captain Visser had replied cryptically about �Red Series and personal security� before nodding off. Max was now by herself with several large, non-conversational males.

As the van rumbled along towards the highways that would take them to Seattle, Max decided to watch the scenery. Although there was a lot of natural beauty in the area, the unpleasant economic circumstances after the Pulse had taken their toll.

Around the impound lot lay several vacant and dilapidated buildings, some boarded up and others not. Some burnt-out cars lay in random places and apparently nobody cared enough to clean them up. Some bums slept against the buildings, empty beer bottles sitting next to their prostrate forms. As the vehicle kept on moving, Max noticed some occupied buildings. There was a shopping center with a Food Lion grocery store as the center some distance from the impound lot and the vacant buildings. However, the collective roof of the center�s buildings was ringed with razor wire and all the windows had burglar bars. Some of the stores had heavily-armed men loitering near the doors; apparently hired guards or rent-a-cops. There weren�t many shoppers and the few who patronized the grocery store or the other shops looked around warily. Some of them carried pistols on their belts, or taser units. The place had the look of a city on the edge. 

The van moved away from the strip mall and the other environmental locations towards the edge of town. After some driving, Max noticed a pile of sandbags and an old tripod-mounted machine gun sitting near a ravine. There was an American flag flying next to it and a large plaque with an inscription. Interested, Max focused on it with her augmented vision.

This monument is dedicated to the fifty citizens of Delk Point, Washington who lost their lives defending against marauders during the 2009-2013 Lawless Times. Future generations will remember your courage and self-sacrifice in defending civilization from anarchy. Although only a few of you had military training and, at first, your weapons were somewhat lacking, you managed to protect innocent lives and prevent total regional collapse. For that, we salute you all.

Below those words lay a list of fifty names, in five columns of ten apiece. Some of them had military ranks, indicating that the heroes of the town were soldiers at some point or another. The majority of the dead appeared to have been ordinary people who, in extraordinary circumstances, did extraordinary things. As they left the town proper, Max noticed some burnt-out farmhouses that apparently hadn�t been occupied in years. Wrecked equipment lay rusting in place. These areas were affected the worst by whatever happened here, she thought.

Big Jim�s Party Wagon soon passed the wrecked farmhouses and was soon in open country. The reminders of war and chaos soon faded from sight and all around them lay the beautiful mountainous areas, a timeless reminder that the Earth abides. 

Logan�s Penthouse, Seattle, Washington, 2:40 PM 

Carrying a bag of groceries in his hands, Logan opened the door and walked into the apartment. Lydecker was asleep on the sofa, in front of the flickering television. The TV was tuned to the Fox News Channel and the anchor was describing the latest dispute between Nationalist and Communist Chinas. Apparently, the Communist government believed that the peace treaty that ended the Pacific War allowed both governments to use the port of Shanghai, even though the city and much of South China lay in Nationalist control. Even though the Communists had been humbled in the Pacific War, they still retained a sizable arsenal of weapons of mass destruction. The Nationalists had nukes and nerve gas too, and they didn�t want to go back to a second exile on Taiwan or lose their independence utterly. Tensions were rising the region and some commentators were predicting war. The new premier of the People�s Republic was unpleasant enough anyway; he had ordered the execution of hundreds in the Xinjiang who tried to defect to the nascent Urghur Republic in the northwest.

Logan set the groceries on the counter and walked towards the window. The perpetual drizzle of Seattle had stopped temporarily and the sun had broken through the clouds at some places. Still, Logan remained seriously depressed. Max�s death had left a gaping hole in his heart and he hadn�t smiled since that horrible night at Manticore. Lydecker wasn�t much help; all the man seemed to do was watch the news and try ineffectually to console him. His intentions, for once, were good, but it wasn�t helping.

Logan walked into his computer room/office and opened the drawer on the desk. There was his gun. He stared at the gun for a moment, then slammed the drawer shut. That old lady was right; he did have too much to live for. Then, his ears perked up. Something interesting was going on in the news. He left his office and headed for the living room as fast as he could. On the TV, he saw a blonde reporter standing in front of a checkpoint. There were some chalk outlines of bodies near the structure and the metal grille of one of the gateways was torn up.

�Earlier this afternoon, this checkpoint on the Washington-Idaho border was the site of apparently a terrorist attack. The Sector cops were apparently conducting a routine inspection of interstate traffic when someone tried to breach one of the electric fences. When some of the cops were sent to investigate, the occupants of the vehicle that was being inspected opened fire, killing two of the cops. After the apparent death of one of the occupants, the van tried to rush the barriers. Captain Harold Rucker, commander of the checkpoint, reports that he tried to stop them with the emergency grille, a barrier that could withstand tank impact, but the van smashed through it as it came down, tearing a piece of it off and ripping up the van�s roof. The van is apparently from Johnson�s Construction Supplies and has the license plate DF-12405. If you have seen this van, please call 1-800-REPORT to inform the Washington Military Command. There is a reward.

Also, the Sector cops sent to investigate the breach of the fence report that a vaguely-Hispanic woman had dropped a log onto the barrier, shorting it out. A police artist has made a composite sketch and we�re going to show it. If you have seen this woman, please call 1-800-REPORT as well.�

A police composite sketch replaced the reporter and the crime scene. Although some features were a little off, the face was undeniably�

�Holy shit,� Logan gasped, jaw dropping. Then, he yelled. �Max!� Somehow, by some miracle, she was still alive! He turned towards Lydecker, who had been awakened by Logan�s exultation.

�Can�t an old man get some sleep?� he grumbled. Then, his half-closed eyes saw Max�s face on the screen. Those eyes went wide. �Oh my�she is alive,� Lydecker said, disbelieving. His statement grew more and more shocked as the reporter did a voice-over recapping what had happened.

�Do you hear that?� Logan said joyfully. �She�s alive!�

�Whoa, I hear you,� Lydecker said. �Sorry to be a wet blanket, but if both Manticore and the Washington Military Command are after her, things are going to be really unpleasant.�

�But she�s still alive!� Logan said exuberantly. He was almost jumping for joy. �Do you know what that means!�

Lydecker rolled his eyes. �Oh the exuberance of youth,� he said. �Well, she�s gotten out of tighter scrapes, believe me. I�m happy for you.� He was still as emotionally neutral as always, so Logan had a little trouble believing him. �I�m also happy that ice queen Renfro can�t get her hands on Max now.� Then, Lydecker did something that Logan had never seen him do, something that Logan doubted the man did very often.

Manticore�s former commander smiled. 

Impound Lot, Delk Point, 5:00 PM 

Jeremiah Lee, manager of the impound lot, reported for the 5 PM to midnight shift. He had parked his car in the lot near his job area and walked towards the building itself. The place was deserted. Apparently, Ryan von Shrakenberg, who held down the post for first part of the day, had gotten bored and wandered off again, leaving the impound lot unguarded. That bum was lucky that nothing had been stolen on his watch, or else the police chief would do something ghastly to him.

Then he noticed the door was partially open. Another breach of responsibility by his lazy predecessor, Lee thought. As he got closer, he saw that the doorknob was cracked. Apparently, von Shrakenberg hadn�t merely left the door open; someone had broken in. Lee rushed towards the door and opened it all the way, looking around. The office was neat and orderly; the day shift operator�s only virtue was cleanliness. Why, then, would someone break in and not steal anything. Lee stepped into the office and looked out onto the lot from inside the building. The parking lot looked ordinary.

Then he noticed that the vehicle admission gate was hanging open, as was the side entrance gate for people. The twisted padlocks lay on the ground near the gates. Lee�s eyes widened. Someone had gone here and messed around with the cars! He looked to the board, which showed the vehicles currently in the lot. None had been taken out or added in since the day before. The manager then looked to the car-key board, where the keys of impounded vehicles were held. One set of keys was missing, the keys to the infamous Big Jim�s Party Wagon.

Lee rushed out of the office and into the parking lot. He went straight for the spot where the vehicle was parked. When he got there, his eyes went wide. Very wide.

Big Jim�s Party Wagon was gone. Instead, there was the van from the TV news, the one with �Johnson�s Construction Supplies� airbrushed on the side. It sat there, totally empty, with the chunk of the grille still jammed into the hood. Lee�s trembling right hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Cell phones were still a rarity in the USA since the Pulse took out 78% of the cell-phone grid, but the West Coast�s grid remained relatively intact. He dialed 1-800-REPORT and hoped the reward would be good. 

Logan�s Penthouse, Seattle, Washington, 5:17 PM 

Logan and Lydecker sat next to each other, watching the news channels intently for more information on Max. Once Fox News had gone on to other topics, they had switched to CNN and then to local news channels, looking for more information. As they watched, a new update appeared onscreen.

�Jeremiah Lee, manager of the impound lot in Delk Point, Washington, has found the escape vehicle used in the terrorist attack on the Washington border early this afternoon,� the Seattle-based news correspondent said. �We�re transferring to a Fox News feed right now to show you the latest info.�

The screen changed to show Jeremiah Lee, a tall, thin man with a shock of red hair, leaning on the wanted vehicle. Standing next to him was a shorter, stocky looking man in a military uniform. The man carried an M-16 rifle and had some grenades on a bandoleer on his chest. The blonde reporter was standing in front of them with the microphone. After a few seconds, the reporter began speaking to her audience.

�We�re here now with Jeremiah Lee, who discovered the missing vehicle, and Captain Arnold Green of the Washington Military Command. Captain Green, will this help you catch the terrorists?� 

The Captain answered in a quiet voice of medium pitch, not the gruff tone that had become a military stereotype. �Well, Miss, this gives us a general idea of where they are, but they could have dropped this here hours ago. This site is more than a hundred miles from the checkpoint, so they�ve had plenty of time. The thing is, we don�t know how they�re traveling.�

�Um, excuse me, Captain, sir,� Lee said. �This van is sitting in the spot where another van, one with the words �Big Jim�s Party Wagon� painted on the side, was. I think that the terrorists have possibly stolen that van and left this van in its place.�

The Captain smiled a bit and slapped the manager on the back. �Good idea. I think we should add more to your reward money.� The Captain then turned towards the screen. �This is Captain Arnold Green, acting in the authority of the Washington Military Command. Be on the lookout for a van with the words �Big Jim�s Party Wagon� airbrushed on the side. Be sure to call 1-800-REPORT to give any information and there is a reward offered. The terrorists are probably somewhere in a 140-mile radius of here, judging by the speed these things go. Miss, if you could kindly put a map of the state up, with an illustration describing how far they could have gone in any direction.� After a minute, a map of Washington with a red circle encompassing much of the central region appeared onscreen. The Captain�s voice continued over the map. 

�The terrorists will most likely be in this circle. If you live in the area surrounded by this circle, be on a special lookout for the Party Wagon.�

�Well,� Logan said. �The troops are out on this one.�

�General Raynor, leader of the Washington Military Command, is smart,� Lydecker said. �Look for military units being deployed to help out the Sector cops, mostly in the cordon surrounding this city but possibly within the city itself. There�ll be more hover-drones out too, keeping an eye on things.� 

�I hate hover-drones,� Logan said. �And to think my money comes from building them.�

Lydecker kept quiet. He didn�t want to mention that fact that he and his faction retained control of the last armed hover-drone in existence, as well as sole control of its plans. Renfro would be really surprised to find out that the specs for the device were missing from the Manticore databanks. She would be even more surprised to find that the only copies in existence were on the hard drive of Lydecker�s personal laptop and on the original CD that they had come on. Logan would be surprised too; mad probably. 

Highway in Western Washington, 5:20 PM 

Captain Visser was still asleep next to Max. However, he was evidently dreaming of something very agitating, Max observed. He was twisting about and making funny noises.

April 21^st, 2010, Cape Town, South Africa. A squad of Volkksturm commandos and their Inkatha allies moved towards the heavy government defenses around Cape Town. Table Mountain and some key areas inside the city were under rebel control, but the governmental forces still held the bulk of the city and were putting pressure on the rebel-held pockets. If Table Mountain fell, they could no longer keep the Communist ships from blocking the naval routes. The rebel naval forces weren�t large enough to defeat the loyalist faction of the South African Navy, so without the big guns of the city�s defenses to help them, the Communists would soon gain control of the seas.

�All right,� Sergeant Thabo, the leader of the Inkatha force, said to the squad. �Our target is the heavy-weapon position a quarter mile from here. This position is keeping our armor out of the city. We don�t have too much armor right now, so we can�t risk it against those guns. It�s up to us to smash �em. Remember your briefing. Fire Team A will lay down grenade fire, to keep the Communists pinned. Fire Teams B and C will move in to finish them off. Once we�re done, a few of us will remain to turn the guns of the position on the enemy.� He rammed a clip into the AK-47 rifle taken from a Communist armory at the start of the revolt. �Now, let�s kick some ass!�

�Hey Sergeant!� Corporal Visser, a recent transferee from the forces that had seized Table Mountain, called out to his friend. �I�ll buy you a beer in Cape Town!�

Sergeant Thabo smiled. �Not if I get there first!� The group split into the fire teams and they dispersed. Overhead, the murderous sun beat down.

A few minutes later, things started heating up. Fire Team A got a drop on the government forces and hit them with grenades. This enabled the two fire teams tasked with eliminating the hard-point to get closer. However, as von Moltke said, no battle plan survived contact with the enemy. Two government Olifant tanks, older vehicles based on the British Centurion design and heavily modified since then, rumbled in, ready to rock. The rebel squads only had two anti-tank weapons, single-use-only LAW rocket launchers leftover from the Cold War. One of the Olifants was taken out quickly. However, the other rocket missed. As long as the surviving Olifant remained there, the rebels couldn�t take and hold the heavy-weapons position.

Corporal Visser slipped towards the Olifant, which sat squarely between the rebel forces and the enemy hard-point. He had an idea that, although incredibly insane-sounding, would take out the Olifant. The tank gunners� attention was held by the rebels of Fire Teams B and C who were trying to get close to the heavy-weapons position. The rebels were well-dispersed, making it hard for the gunners to hit them, but the big shells covered a wide area and the rebels would either be driven back or massacred if the tank wasn�t destroyed. Already, two of Corporal Visser�s comrades lay mangled in the grass. As soon as he was close enough, Corporal Visser jumped onto the tank and rushed towards the main gun.

The hatch opened and one of the crewman popped out, brandishing an AK-47. The man, a short, muscular Indian with a cropped, military-style haircut, had obviously heard the Corporal hop onto the tank. Corporal Visser fired his pistol at the man, hitting him in the throat. The man collapsed back into the vehicle with blood pumping from his mangled arteries. Knowing that he�d have more company soon, Corporal Visser jumped onto the gun and pulled the pin from one of his grenades. He counted to two and rammed the bomb down the muzzle of the tank�s main gun. Then he jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding gunfire from the loyalists in the hard-point who were no longer pinned down by rebel fire.

The grenade had rolled down the muzzle and came in contact with a shell that the loader was cramming into the gun. Then, it exploded. The grenade explosion set off the shell. The resulting inferno completely obliterated the tank�s crew and blew the turret wide open. Debris rained all over immediate area around the tank, narrowly missing Corporal Visser. The destruction of the Olifant was greeted by cheers from the surviving rebels, who proceeded to renew their attack on the hard-point.

Then, something even worse happened. A massive Hind helicopter, imported from the former USSR to augment the South African helicopter force, swept in from one of the military bases around Cape Town that hadn�t fallen the rebels.

�Man,� Corporal Visser said. �When it rains, it pours.� The massive chopper hovered over the rebels, the pilots targeting them with the vehicles� massive cannon. Things were about to get VERY interesting�

�Captain Visser,� Max said, shaking the South African. �Wake up!�

Captain Visser woke up with a start, gasping. He soon saw that Max and two of the Reds were eyeing him. �Dreaming?� Max asked. �It didn�t sound pleasant in there.�

�Yes,� Captain Visser said. �I was also in the First Battle of Cape Town, during the Third Boer War. I was part of a team that hit the government�s heavy weapons positions, making way for our small armored forces to break through and enter the city itself. I was remembering a particularly nasty little skirmish I was involved in. Infantry versus two tanks and a chopper; it wasn�t pretty.�

�I�m sure it wasn�t,� Max said, remembering the live-fire exercises that she had participated in at Manticore. The Army had brought in a tank and Lydecker had tasked the children to destroy it. She shivered somewhat. Two of the X-5 group died that day, but they did manage to destroy the tank.

�How long until we reach Seattle?� Captain Visser asked the Red who was driving.

�Probably another hour or two,� the driver, a white man with a very deep voice said. �Then what?�

�I�ll contact Pretoria and see,� Captain Visser said. 

Interrogation Cell 115C, 4:45 PM (Mountain Time Zone) 

The Anomalies were going after Max now. How Max had ended up in his nightmare world was unknown to Zack, but she was there. The werewolf had ripped off one of her arms and was enthusiastically ripping into it, like a pig rooting for truffles. Max screamed, a hoarse sound. She had been screaming for quite awhile now, so her throat was hurt. The first Anomaly had carved �Traitor� into her forehead with one of his claws and was now admiring his handiwork. The panther-creature had gotten hold of one of her legs and was chewing pensively on her calf.

�No!!� Zack screamed. �No!� He was still hooked on the wall and couldn�t do anything about what was going on down there.

�You can save her,� a strangely feminine voice said in the nightmare world.

�You can save her,� Renfro said. Zack snapped out of the hell-scape at the sound of her voice. She was standing over him with a strange smile on her face. He felt blood trickling down his face and he knew that he had split his lip screaming. His throat hurt.

�What?� Zack asked.

�Max has been kidnapped by the Anomalies, under Lydecker�s direction. They have her somewhere in Seattle and I�ll need you to help rescue her. Can you do that?�

Zack was confused. The psycho-active drugs had utterly wrecked the line between fantasy and reality; he was actually starting to believe what Renfro was saying. If he was sober, he would never have fallen for that, but the drugs had fried his perceptions. He was now starting to believe that the visions of the Anomalies and of Max being tortured by his trainer and the rival male were part of reality. That�s what psycho-active drugs did; they scrambled the victim�s perceptions and made them believe that their hallucinations were part of reality.

�Yes,� Renfro said. �You�re starting to come around. Let go of your pride. Max is in danger, X-5/599, and only you can save her. Duty, discipline, teamwork. You�re the X-5s� C.O.; it�s your responsibility.�

�Yes,� Zack said. �They�re my responsibility.�

Renfro smiled. �That�s a good boy.� The hard part was done now. All that she and the Manticore people needed to do was get Zack more and more convinced that what was going on was true. Renfro had been listening in on Zack�s torment since the drugging began and she knew what he was seeing. He had been screaming it for hours and hours, not knowing that he had an audience. Thus, she could get inside his head and convince him that what he was seeing was real and that they needed his help to save his �sister.� Her smile widened. This was so much fun.

�Good,� Renfro said. �We have some work to do before we can go save Max. Patience is a virtue.� Renfro grinned even more. She was starting to break the renegade leader. Once she had him, she could also get to the other rogue X-5s. Even though they had scattered due to that pathetic �Eyes Only,� he would be better informed of their whereabouts than she was. Life was good.

�I�ll need to show you some more of what those evil, evil men are doing to your sister,� Renfro said, drawing another vial of the drug from her pocket. �Remember, X-5/599. They�re torturing Max.� Zack continued to stare at her as she injected the drug into his neck. �You�ll see more of what they�re doing and you�ll hate them for it.� Renfro sat on a nearby chair and waited for the hallucinations to begin. She would influence what he was seeing, with a word here and here, to fully bend him around her little finger.

�Oh no,� Zack gasped. Renfro grinned again. It was working.

�Now they�ve lifted Max up and are playing �catch� with her,� she began. This was such fun. 

Logan�s Penthouse, Seattle, 5:00 PM 

�Still no word on the terrorists� vehicle,� the Fox News correspondent said. �We�ve got a copy of the official description of what they�ve done with us. According to the Washington Military Command, these people are agents of the Alaskan renegades. They've managed to slip through the federal blockade of the self-proclaimed �Republic of Alaska� and they�ve hit a major military base in the West. In order to deny intelligence to the rebels, the Military Command has not released information on the attack or the damage they�ve done.�

�Manticore is still a black project,� Lydecker said. �Dr. Renfro, my former boss, will try to keep information about it to a minimum. You have no idea how angry she got when you blabbed about it on your cable hack. They�re trying to pin this on the Alaskan rebels. The government�s managed to blame the Alaskans for the high gas prices, so most people hate them so much that they will believe any anti-Alaskan propaganda.�

�The Alaskan rebels are having enough trouble trying to keep the sea-lanes open so they can export oil. Why would they send people down to the continental US to make trouble?� Logan asked. �Isn�t their whole strategy based on using oil to blackmail the government into ending martial law?�

�The Alaskan rebels� strategy isn�t to overthrow the government here by military force, but to use oil as a bargaining chip to force the government to make reforms,� Lydecker agreed. �They wouldn�t send forces this far south. However, most people dislike the Republic so much that they�ll swallow anything, hook, line, and sinker without thinking too much.�

�The Washington Military Command�s report ends with �These traitors killed American servicemen, using weapons paid for by contraband oil sales. Therefore, the Washington Military Command exhorts all Americans not to purchase oil smuggled into the United States by these renegades.� More updates as they happen,� the reporter said cheerily.

�Pure politics,� Lydecker complained. �Renfro is striking a PR blow against the Alaskan rebels and successfully covering up a Manticore-related incident. The Committee will love that.�

�The Committee?� Logan asked. He�d heard vague mentions of them before. They�d popped up in Sebastian�s conspiracy theories, as well as in other stuff that Logan had come across.

�The Executive Committee of Special Projects, which is in charge of Manticore and other Top Secret things,� Lydecker replied. �Renfro�s part of it, as are several others. The Committee has a great deal of pull with the Defense Department and sometimes �hires out� its special projects for use. Recently, when I was still in charge, we sent out a Manticore X-5 at the behest of the Mediterranean Coalition to kill Pope James II. He�d made too many waves and they wanted to nail him.�

�As I recall, the attempt failed,� Logan said cuttingly. Lydecker remained impassive.

�Only due to the intervention of a mysterious bystander who fought the X-5 to a standstill and gave the Pope time to be evacuated. The X-5 was actually captured by the Swiss Guards. This got Manticore some of Renfro�s personal attention; then she started saddling me with all sorts of directives. Micromanager. She wanted me to use deadly force on Max and the other escapees. This foreshadowed her later murder of Tinga and possibly others. Nasty woman.�

�What happened to the X-5?�

�Oh, we had reason to suspect that the Pope was rescued by another improved soldier, someone affiliated with a foreign power. As you know, it�s Manticore policy to make sure that enemy nations don�t get their hands on too much of our stuff. That�s part of the reason we try to track down the renegades; we don�t want an incident like the one with Brin. We sent several X-5s to spring the first. He was being held in special detention in Italy and it was a clean in-and-out. We still don�t know who the bystander was affiliated with; he isn�t a Red, a Manticore X-series, a Hydra, or a Deathstalker.�

�Wait a minute,� Logan asked, puzzled. �What are the last two?� 

�The Hydra-class were an earlier super-soldier program begun by the NSA in the early 1990s. The soldiers were adult volunteers who were augmented by the cybernetic devices. Sharpened vision, internal mesh armor, muscular augmentation, you know. They were good, but they had no finesse. Brute force all the way, like the South African Reds. We quit making �em in 2004, decoupled the implants from those who hadn�t died in the operations we used them in, and swore everyone involved to secrecy. The Deathstalkers are a Russian project. We know that the DNA of a wolf was used to make them the ultimate hunter-stalkers and there was possibly some cybernetic augmentation as well. We don�t know too much about them due to the Zhrinovosky regime�s paranoia about spies. Russia�s not doing too well; we�re in the same post-Cold War boat. They may be hiring Deathstalkers out as well.�

Logan rolled his eyes. Black projects, black projects, black projects. �Why would Zhrinovosky hire out a Deathstalker to protect the Pope? The man�s a Russian nationalist who�s restored the Orthodox Church�s favored position. There�s still the Great Schism thing, you know.�

The Pulse caused a chain reaction in the global economy that shook up Russia quite a bit. The resulting economic chaos led to the overthrow of President Vladimir Putin by a right wing coup led by General Vladimir Zhironovosky, a somewhat deranged ultranationalist. Using money from oil revenues, the General and his junta began modernizing the Russian miltiary in preparation for what he called �The Last Dash to the South,� a great Russian invasion of the Middle East designed to seize control of the world�s oil and make Russia the dominant world power. He had also managed to absorb Ukraine and Belarus, which had joined in a Putin-inspired �Union State� in the early years of the 21^st Century, a move showing that he wanted to reestablish the old Russian Empire as well.

Lydecker shrugged. �You never know. Zhrinovosky may be trying to undermine the Mediterranean Coalition, since they�d surely interfere with the Russian invasion of the Middle East that he�s always saying he�s going to pull off. Maybe he�s so desperate for money that he�s hired out a Deathstalker to be the Pope�s bodyguard. Hell, maybe the man who fought our X-5 was trying to kill the Pope too, or somebody else, and didn�t want any interference. Besides, it might not have been a Deathstalker. The Nordic League inherited a lot of the old European Union�s projects since the EU�s collapse in 2012; perhaps it�s a German plot.�

The Pulse-induced shakeup also led to the fragmentation of the European Union into two main competing bodies; the Mediterranean Coalition and the Nordic League. The Coalition originally included Spain, France, Italy, the Balkans, Greece, and Turkey. Within the last eight years, they had inducted Lebanon, Israel, Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, giving them control over the western Mediterranean and Gibraltar and widening their resource/population base. The Nordic League included Germany, Denmark, the Netherlands, the Scandinavian countries, Poland, and the Baltic States. The Germans had supplied a lot of the EU�s industry and technology, so they got away with a sizable chunk of the EU�s black projects. The two organizations competed for European dominance and the papal business may have been a part of that.

�Did the European Union have any improved-soldier projects?� Logan asked.

�I don�t know,� Lydecker said almost wearily. �There were rumors they were working on something, but since they were our allies, we didn�t spy on them too much.� He shrugged and looked at the television. The screen was now occupied by a man who was enthusiastically describing the movie Sordid Details, a retro film noir movie set in gritty, postPulse Corpus Christi. �No news on Max. I suppose we�ll just have to wait.�

�Who do you think it was who broke Max out of Manticore?� Logan asked. �Do you think that Kritt and Syl, or the other X5s had something to do with it?�

�Actually,� Lydecker said, �I arranged this.� Logan�s eyes bugged out at the news. �Manticore had a somewhat informal alliance with the Red program in South Africa, even though they did make rather clumsy attempts to snare Max in Seattle and another X5 in Texas. I gave them some old Manticore info and they gave me some tracking gear, which led me to Max due to the Red implant that�s been in her neck for awhile. They had a commando team in the area; I don�t know why, exactly, and requested that they hit Manticore and bring back Max�s body. It was for you, actually,� Lydecker watched as Logan grew even more surprised. The Colonel assumed that Logan must think him to be some kind of monster due to his hunt for Max, but now that impression would change. �I knew you loved her, you see, and at least you would be able to bury her. However, it turns out she survived somehow.�

�Whoa, whoa, whoa,� Logan said. �You had the Reds spring Max?�

�Better them than nobody. I know, son, this sounds truly bizarre, but that�s how the world works these days. You ended up allying with me against Renfro, didn�t you? When you hijacked my radio frequencies on Sedro Island, did you think that someday you�d have to join with me to face someone even more evil?�

�I�I don�t know what to say,� Logan stammered. Other than the Reds business, he was at a loss for words. He had always thought of Lydecker as this monster, but�

�Well, �thanks� would be nice,� Lydecker said.

�Um�thanks,� Logan said. Lydecker gave him a curious halfsmile which both lifted Logan�s spirits and creeped him out. He still didn�t know what to make of Colonel Donald Lydecker. 

Highway in Western Washington, 6:00 PM 

�We�ll be in Seattle by eight,� Captain Visser estimated. �The traffic is starting to pick up a bit.� Earlier in the day, there hadn�t been all that many cars in the road. Now, there were at least twenty of them sharing the road with the Reds and their van. It wasn�t all that many compared to the days before the Pulse, but they�d have to get through checkpoints, and all while the authorities were searching for Max.

The van continued westward down the highway, towards Seattle. 

Interrogation Cell 115C, 5:30 PM (Mountain Time) 

Max�s face was a bloody ruin, but the first Anomaly continued to gnaw. Max had strained her vocal cords through constant screaming earlier, and now all that Zack could hear were bubbling groans. The tentacled creature pushed up her shirt and clawed at her navel, drawing blood. He continued to claw, as though he was digging for her innards. The door to the Anomaly pen opened and Colonel Lydecker stepped in.

�Good job,� Lydecker said. �I�m sure that she�s mighty tasty.�

�Yes,� the werewolf said. �Thanks for letting us eat her.�

�Do you need us for anything?� the first Anomaly asked.

�No, not really,� Lydecker said. �Keep eating. You can have X-5/599 for dessert.� Lydecker smiled morbidly at Zack and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

�How much more of this do I have to see, ma�am?� Zack asked. �I know what Manticore needs me to do.�

Renfro smiled. Shock him enough, play with his sensibilities, and eventually she got what she wanted. He was already beginning to show some military demeanor again, and she already figured that he�d do anything she asked if it would enable him to save Max from Colonel Lydecker and the Anomalies. �X-5/599, I�m starting to think that we need to move on.� Zack sighed in relief and she smiled again. �We need to correct the serotonin deficiency that many X-5s have, as well as any potential occurrences of Werner Syndrome. Then, we can give you some refresher courses and send you out to save Max. Does that sound agreeable?�

�Oh yes,� Zack said.

�I�ll be right back,� Renfro said with mock kindness. She stepped outside the cell and opened her cell phone. She dialed a number and waited until the person at the other end picked up.

�Genetics lab?� she asked. �I�ll need genetic repair serum for X-5/599. I need to correct the serotonin deficiency and make sure that he never will develop Werner Syndrome. Do you have any of that in stock?�

�Yes ma�am, I believe I do. The X-5 attack on the lab may have totaled our genetic samples, but the serums remained intact,� the doctor said. �We can bring it to you within half an hour.�

�Excellent,� Renfro said. The serum typically took a day or two to alter the affected cells and complete its work. Add the time it took to do the other things needed to retrain Zack and he�d be ready in less than a week. There were still some doubts at the back of her mind, though. The sort of brainwashing she had done to X-5/599 basically manipulated the subject�s own personality to make him do what she desired. A better form of brainwashing molded the subject�s mind into the desired form, but she didn�t have time for that. The Committee wanted the X-5 problem solved quickly and the fastest way she could think of was to �turn� X-5/599 and use him to get the others.

She reentered the interrogation cell. Zack watched her intently. She smiled benevolently at him. �Soon, X-5/599, soon you�ll be able to save your sister.�

Zack smiled, a harsh, bloody look. �Excellent, ma�am. X-5/599 is ready for anything.�

Renfro�s smile widened. She knew that then she had broken him. Weaken him with intense psycho-active drugs, then manipulate his personality into making him want to serve Manticore. It was a bit cut-rate, but it worked. 

Outskirts of Seattle, 7:45 PM 

�We�re here,� Captain Visser said. �All we have left to do is get through the checkpoint and we can get you to the designated drop-off point.� The city loomed before them, huge and somewhat decrepit-looking skyscrapers towering magnificently into the night sky. The exit that led to Seattle itself was coming up.

�That�s a tall order, sir,� one of the Reds said. �They�re going to be watching for anyone fitting our description. Should we abandon the vehicle and try to infiltrate the city on foot?�

Captain Visser thought for a moment. �Yes. We�ll have to do that. We�ll also leave Vornster�s body in the vehicle and set it on fire. Later, we can retrieve his implant.� The Red who was driving took the car off the highway onto the road that would take them to their destination. �We�ll ditch the car somewhere out of sight, then torch it. We�ll find a way into the city via an alternate route. A tunnel or a large enough sewer drain will do nicely.�

The car drove along for a few minutes and then the Red stopped it. Just ahead of them, the line of cars and other vehicles trying to get into the checkpoint was starting to form. It was very, very long and they knew it would take awhile for the drivers to get anywhere. Off to the side, however, there was a gravel road that led off into a mass of trees and some dilapidated buildings. The Red turned off the road leading to the checkpoint and drove down the other path. They bounced along some before coming to a stop.

�This should be isolated enough. Everybody out,� Captain Visser said. �Take your weapons and other personal stuff, but transfer Vornster�s body from the back to a more central location.� His soldiers opened the doors and began spilling out. He followed them, and Max followed him. Once they were all out, two of the Reds went back inside and inspected it, making sure that nothing incriminating or useful had been left behind. Another Red went to the rear of the van and took out Vornster�s body. He carried the fallen warrior to the open side doors and laid the corpse across the one of the seats. The other two Reds finished their inspection.

�All clean, sir,� they said.

�Good.� Captain Visser walked over and opened the gas tank of the vehicle. He withdrew a complicated-looking siphon from a pocket and inserted it into the tank. He took the other end and pointed it at the seats inside the vehicle. He pressed a button on the siphon and a strange pneumatic sound was heard. Then gas started trickling from the other end onto the seats. Captain Visser sprayed it around for a few minutes, dousing the flammable parts of the vehicle and Vornster�s body. After a few more minutes, no more gas left the tube.

�Vehicle�s out of gas,� Captain Visser said to himself. He then turned to the Reds. �I need an incendiary grenade.� One of the Reds stepped forward and handed him one of the firestarters. Captain Visser pulled the pin and tossed it into the gasoline-soaked region of the van. It landed on the seat next to Vornster�s head.

�All right!� Captain Visser roared. �Everybody back!� He, the Reds, and Max all jumped backwards. �Move into cover!� The group filtered back, moving very fast, into an area with a liberal scattering of old cars and toppled walls. They ducked behind the cover that would most likely withstand a fuel explosion and waited.

The grenade exploded with a bang and the gasoline all over the vehicle, including the evaporated portion in the air, ignited. The center of the vehicle turned into a raging firestorm. Captain Visser peeked over the top of the wall he was hiding behind.

�Good. It�s burning and it will likely burn for hours. All right. All of you, follow me. Stay in cover to avoid shrapnel from any explosion. We�ll have to get away from here quickly, before the fire draws attention.� The group left their covered positions and moved away from the vehicle into the surrounding forests. The van, and the body within, burned. 

Some Distance from the Burning Van, 8:07 PM 

�Okay,� Captain Visser said. �Max, you�re more familiar with this area than I am. Do you know any means of getting into Seattle proper without having to pass through the checkpoints? Any breaks in the perimeter or tunnels or large sewer pipes? Going through the checkpoint with you and all our guns is a recipe for disaster.� For the past few minutes, they had been moving along a dirt footpath away from the burning site, and now they were going to get back on track.

�The Seattle checkpoints guard against unauthorized vehicular entry. I think we may be able to make our way on foot into the city itself, and from there to the dropoff point,� Max said assuredly. �Wait a sec. Where exactly is the dropoff point?�

�It�s an apartment complex in Seattle, a very nice one by Lydecker�s account. I think the address is��

�I think he�s talking about Logan�s penthouse,� Max said. �I know where that is!�

�Who�s Logan?� Captain Visser asked, furrowing his brows.

�The friend who Lydecker had to knock out to get him away from me,� Max said.

�Oh.�

�Now,� Max said. �We�re on the edge of the city to the east. If we keep moving westward, we�ll be able to get to the apartment complex and you guys can go home to sunny South Africa.� Using her internal compass, a trait taken from migratory animals that Manticore had engineered into all X-5s, she oriented herself and the group. The detour to the burning site had put them off course a tad, but she could get them going again.

�Follow me,� she said, and began walking off into the forests. After a couple of minutes, Captain Visser and the Reds began following. 

Further Away, 8:14 PM 

�Stop,� Max said, quickly and quietly. �We�ve got company.� The whole group stopped and fell silent. Using her improved vision, Max swept the forest for the origin of the sound that had alerted her. After a few moments, she noticed the man in the camouflage uniform who carried an M-16. A study of his uniform revealed him to be Private First Class Carl Mackenzie, US Army. She looked around some more. She saw two more soldiers, all of them armed with M-16s.

�Boys,� Max whispered. �Three soldiers, packing heat.�

�What sort of heat?� Captain Visser asked.

�M-16 assault rifles.�

�Three of them?�

�They�re in camouflage and they�re rather far, which is why they�re hard to see. I think that the Manticore people anticipated that we would ditch the car and try to infiltrate Seattle on foot. Do your weapons have silencers?�

�No.�

�If you used them, then, the noise would attract negative attention. Can you see the enemy troops?�

�No.�

�Can the Reds?�

Captain Visser turned to the Reds behind him. They all shook their heads.

�They can�t see them either. The Red implants provide increased strength and speed, as well as immunity from pain. They don�t affect vision and hearing too much.�

Max thought for a minute. �Wait here. I�ll deal with them.�

�What?�

�I�ll climb up in the trees, drop down on them, kill them, and then get back to you. Then we can slip through the gap in the cordon and get out of here.� With that, Max scrambled up the nearest tree, silent as a cat. She moved up the tree until she was about twenty feet off the ground and then she looked down. The American soldiers were still in their positions below her. She moved from tree to tree via the large branches until she was directly above one of the soldiers. Then, she began moving down the tree, balancing speed with the need for silence. When she was about four feet above the soldier�s head, she dropped down on him. The noise of her impact carried through the forest a ways, but it wasn�t loud enough to attract attention. Max had her prey pinned, with her hand over his mouth. She could have snapped his neck then and there� 

But she couldn�t. Killing in the heat of battle when the other person could just as easily kill her was one thing; taking out a helpless man was something else. She decided instead to tweak some pressure points on the side of his neck. With a moan that was nearly silenced by her hand, he lapsed into unconsciousness. She then rummaged through his gear and found a length of rope. She then proceeded to hog-tie him and then removed his boots and socks. She stuffed one sock in his mouth, then wrapped the other sock around his face to keep the first sock in. She tied off the end of that sock, finishing up with that soldier.

There were still two more to deal with though. The gap in the cordon wasn�t wide enough for the whole Red force to move through without attracting attention. So she scrambled back up the tree and set off to incapacitate the other soldier. If two of them were taken out, that would leave a gap in the lines large enough for her and her rescuers to move through. Using her enhanced vision, she saw that the nearest of the two soldiers was fifty yards away. He was careless; rather than watch the forest, he stood there smoking a cigarette. Max moved through the branches overhead with feline grace, stalking the man like a jaguar.

When Max got within five yards of the man, his back was to her. She could pounce and knock him out very fast. She tensed, ready to leap.

The man turned and saw her. �What the hell?� he asked, eyes wide. He raised his M-16�

Max leaped, crashing down on him. Still, he managed to get a couple of shots off with his assault rifle. The bullets all went wide, but the sound carried through the forest.

The other soldier came running, weapon ready. Max looked up from the man she had pinned to see him coming. He was eighty yards from her, but at the rate he was running, he could get to her before she could immobilize the second soldier. �Damn,� Max said angrily. She pressure-pointed the second man and rose to meet the third. If she jumped as he came out of the thickest portion of the brush, she�d be able to take him down.

There was no need for that. The snarl of an Uzi echoed through the forest and the man went flying into a tree, blood pouring from his chest, throat, and mouth. Her vision swept through the trees to see a Red removing a magazine from his Uzi carbine and putting it in a pocket. He then slammed home another cartridge. The South Africans had been moving steadily forward while she was hunting the soldiers from above. That�s how they had gotten close enough to hammer the third soldier.

�Come on!� Max called. �We can get through the gap now, before someone else comes!�

That was all the South Africans needed. They rushed forward through the trees in a square formation, able to cover all the area around them with their guns. Max took off running through the trees, the Red squad close behind her. 

Streets of Seattle, 8:20 PM 

Max and the Reds had successfully penetrated the cordon and were now on the city streets. The hardest part of the journey was over. All they had to do now was get to Logan�s penthouse and safety. The street was mostly empty of people, and those who were quickly got out of the way. The men in camouflage who carried powerful Israeli-made firearms and wore totally neutral expressions had a tendency to scare people.

All except those who lacked common sense. As Max and the group came upon a street corner, Sketchy came barreling around it on his bike. As soon as he saw Max and the Reds, he jammed on his brakes. He managed to come to a stop about two feet from Max and the others. His face held an statement of surprise.

�Max?� he said. �Is that you?�

�I suppose,� Max replied. �I don�t have any twins, do I?�

�Where have you been? Normal�s mad as hell that you�ve missed work and Original Cindy has been acting all funny. Druid�s convinced you�ve been abducted by aliens or trans-dimensional Nazis or some other ghastly thing. To top it off, we all have increased workloads because your share of the work has been divided up among all of us.�

Max felt some compassion at the last one. She was one of the more efficient riders and Sketchy appeared exhausted. �I�ve had some trouble come up. I�ll try to get to work soon and then I�ll explain all of it. Okay?�

�Sure. But who are these guys?�

�We�re her bodyguards,� Captain Visser said. �Don�t pry, or we may have to pry off your jaw.� His statement was cold and totally neutral, like a snake�s.

�Whoa,� Sketchy said. �I suppose I should go then.�

He starting pedaling again and maneuvered around the Reds. Once he got past them, he starting riding like the Devil himself was chasing behind. Once he was out of sight, Max turned to Captain Visser. She was angry.

�Jan, that was totally unnecessary! He was one of my friends!�

�At present, we�re fugitives from an army. Sorry to be disruptive, but sometimes this requires extreme measures. Besides,� he smiled warmly, �off duty, I�m much nicer. The whole cold-as-ice routine is designed to scare people. For all I know, he could be a spy.� He then winked. �And I didn�t know we were on a first-name basis.�

�Well, you�ve used my name a lot recently. Granted, I don�t have a last name, but still.�

�Well,� Captain Visser said. �Let�s get to the dropoff point and our job will be done.� 

Logan�s Penthouse, 8:27 PM 

There was a knock at the door. Logan jumped to his feet immediately while Lydecker rose leisurely to his feet. Nothing seemed to faze the man, Lydecker observed.

�Do you think�?� Logan asked. Max never knocked; she had a tendency to come in without asking.

Lydecker shrugged.

There were two more knocks, in quick sequence. Lydecker�s ears perked up. That was the signal that he had told the South African leader, a rather nice young man, to use.

�Come in,� Lydecker said. �Code 2B.�

The door swung open and there stood Max. Captain Visser and his Reds had decided to remain out of sight. When Max saw Logan, her eyes widened. The same happened with Logan. Nothing happened for one long moment.

Then the dam broke. �Oh my�Max!� Logan said. He ran towards her, arms outstretched. She ran towards him the same way, only faster.

They collided in an embrace that would have sent them both toppling if Max wasn�t genetically-engineered and Logan wasn�t wearing the exoskeleton. Both of them were crying.

�I thought you were dead,� Logan said, weeping.

�I thought I�d never see you again,� Max said, equally emotional. Both of them clung to each other for several minutes. Lydecker watched with his usual neutral statement. While the two of them held one another, Captain Visser and his commandos entered the apartment. Captain Visser shut the door behind him. The South Africans stood behind Max, facing Lydecker, in a loose formation. Captain Visser saluted Lydecker, who promptly returned it.

�Good job, Captain Visser. Now what?� 

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