Part 2

Security Control Center, 2:25 AM

"We've found something that may interest you, Colonel Lydecker," Captain John Vineyard said.

"When we opened up the command center of this guy's little operation, some surveillance footage

showed two interesting characters, one of whom you expressed interest in."

"Excellent, Captain," Lydecker said. He was tall and sinister, with curly yellowish hair and

steel-gray eyes. He dressed in dark, drab clothing and gave some of those around him the creeps. He

had arrived mere minutes before, after receiving the message. The Captain had been told earlier to

report suspicious persons with a certain description to Lydecker. The mysterious man eyed the

computer screen.

"Run the footage," he ordered simply. "I want only the footage in question, nothing extraneous."

"Yes sir," the soldier who sat in the techie's chair said, keying the footage. The images ran on the

screen, revealing all to Lydecker's anxious eyes.

The film showed the vast lawn of Dr. Wallace, empty except for some guards and the Zeus

statue. Then, several explosions rocked the area as the Cobra choppers moved in. The guards

scattered, firing their guns at unseen targets. One by one, most of them were cut down. The few

survivors fled out of camera range. Some soldiers moved in, weapons at ready.

"I said that I didn't want any extraneous footage, Captain. What's this?"

"Just wait, sir."

Suddenly, two new figures entered the screen. One of them was a male in a long coat. The other

was much more familiar to Lydecker. She was female, vaguely Hispanic in appearance, and wearing a

tight leather cat-burglar suit.

"Ah, there she is. I've been looking for her. I tried squeezing the fat private eye for information,

but he didn't have much. I almost had her when she got arrested, but she got away again. Now this is

more interesting."

The man went down a moment later, hit from offscreen. However, he rose up and opened fire on

whoever had shot him. Then, he placed his gun back in his coat and turned around, disappearing from

the camera for a few moments. Then, he emerged and the two dashed away. For a brief second,

Lydecker could see the dark marks on the back of their necks.

"Thank you, Captain. I'll see that you are handsomely rewarded." Lydecker turned around and

walked away from the captain and the soldier at the console. The man smiled. "Not only do I have the

girl," Lydecker grinned evilly. "But now I've got the one who started the whole damn thing." He

thought back to the night of the escape.

"This is what happens when someone tries to escape!" Lydecker roared at the Manticore

children who didn't try to escape. "This one tried to lead the others away and I'm going to

make an example of him." The child Zack stood at his side, hands tied and mouth gagged.

Lydecker drew a huge knife from his belt. "Pay attention, children," Lydecker said in his

sinister voice. Then, Lydecker gave him a vicious slash from the knife that tore the side of his

head open. Blood gushed out, indicating that a major vein had been hit. Lydecker turned to a

fully-armed soldier who stood at the door of the barracks. "Take this one outside and leave him

to freeze. He won't last long."

"Yes sir," the soldier said, picking up the inert Zack and carrying him out. Only a few

hours later, when Lydecker went to retrieve the corpse for study, did he see the bloody tracks

leading away from where the soldier had dumped him. Following the tracks, he found that the

child had managed to climb the fence and escape into the night.

"This time, I'd like both of them." He had not managed to capture any of the escapees, even

after ten years of searching. The vastness of the country he sought to patrol, the post-Pulse anarchy

that probably claimed some of the Manticore children, and the fact that he didn't have all the resources

he formerly commanded all contributed to the problem. Lydecker smiled though. Two of them in one

city, and they'd made contact. They'd stick out a bit; ten years without the strict military regimen would

have made them soft. Lydecker chuckled a bit. He would have some fun with this.

Max's Apartment, 3:54 AM

Eventually, the little get-together had run its course. Sketchy had staggered home while Kendra

had gone to bed, leaving Zack and Max to catch up on old times. Both of didn't need to sleep, so they

spent the night deep in conversation. From these long hours of talking, they gained a general idea of

what they'd been doing since the escape from Manticore.

"You were lucky," Zack said. "You and some others apparently went west, while I went east.

East of the Rocky Mountains, as you may know, was affected the worst by the Pulse. In the western

parts of the country, your computers still worked. In my area, all the memories were wiped and the

area descended into chaos. With the federal government paralyzed, the only people who could keep

the gangs and bandits from destroying the place were the local National Guard units and various

militias. I needed food and I had combat skills, so I signed on with various military and paramilitary

outfits. Besides, armed robbery wasn't too profitable for me anyhow; I got arrested once. From when

I was thirteen until I was sixteen, I did chores for various groups and was only rarely involved with

actual combat; then I got big enough to be allowed to fight with the best of them. I've spent the last

four years tooling around the Midwest and the South, kicking ass. What have you done?"

"Well, I was with a family with a nasty pervert father-figure for awhile. I left them and moved

west, heading for the city. I got a job as a messenger girl, sort of, along the dockyards. This was after

the Pulse, so the child labor laws weren't too strenuously enforced. I spent a few years at this,

supplementing my income with petty theft. I eventually got a job with a small outfit named Jam Pony

X-Press, where I've been a bicycle messenger since. I also rob excessively rich guys of silly trifles they

don't really need and sell them. Also, I have a small question."

"What's that?"

"How is it that you surviving being hammered by the machine gun, only to shed the bullets later?

And why did you want the alcohol so badly?"

"Max, our group was a prototype batch. We had, ahem, errors. You have those seizures, which

I can remember from the night of the escape. I have extraordinary regenerative powers. I can heal

almost any wound instantly, provided I keep myself well nourished. The beer presented a good source

of calories and some nutrients with which to rebuild my body and expel the bullets. I don't know what

other mutations the other children developed, other than a bunch of others had seizures as well. Ten to

one a lot of them will get cancer of some kind later on."

"Any problems with Lydecker? He's been sniffing around here lately, looking for me. I had a

close call with him just recently."

"Lydecker." Zack stroked the scar on the side of his face. "He was the commander, wasn't he?

I haven't had any run-ins with him; the areas where I've been were too disorganized for him to mount

any major searches for us. However, he's probably lurking about. The man is obsessive and

dangerous, and I made that judgement when I didn't know him too well. Ten to one that the ten years

of searching have given him a major Captain Ahab complex."

"Where'd the scar come from?" Max asked. "If you've got such supernatural regenerative

powers, surely the scar would have healed over by now."

"That was the first major wound I ever received. As you may know, they did recapture me after

I stopped to fight off a bunch of Lydecker's goons, saving your behind in the process. Lydecker didn't

catch any of you guys, so he made me an example. Slashed me with the knife, ripping open some

major veins and possibly my carotid artery, then left me out in the night to freeze. He, and neither did I

for that matter, didn't know about my regenerative abilities. I healed up within an hour, managed to

untie myself, and fled. Since that wound kind of "activated" my abilities, it never completely healed. It's

a perpetual reminder of that bastard."

"Well, what brought you to Seattle?"

"I heard about an opening for Dr. Wallace's security chief while I was fighting an organized gang

of moonshiners in Arkansas. Once they were done with, a task that took a lot of effort due to the

necessary for protracted guerrilla warfare in the Ozarks, I decided I needed some peace and quiet for

awhile. Being that my chief skills were combat, house chores, and manual labor, I decided on a simple

thing like guarding some fat cat's house. I made my way here and it turned out that all the other

applicants didn't meet the good doctor's standards. He didn't quiz me too strenuously, which strikes

me as odd. Combined with the sudden presence of mass numbers of troops one night, maybe he was

in cahoots with Lydecker."

"Maybe. Lydecker has his hooks in a lot of people. I recently came across a person from

Manticore and Lydecker still kept her on the lookout, threatening to kill her if she didn't report to him."

"If I could get my hands on him, I'd kill him. It would make life easier for our brothers and

sisters, if any more of us are still alive. Besides, he's a psychopath."

"Good luck. He very rarely puts in an appearance unless he has a massive advantage, like sheer

numbers of troops present."

"Perhaps." Zack yawned. "I know we don't sleep, but I do need to rest a little; I think I'll just

crash. Do you mind?"

"Sure," Max said, climbing off the sofa. "I'll be about." Zack yawned again and propped his feet

up on the other end of the couch.

"Later," he said. As Max left, she noticed him staring intently at the ceiling.

Logan's Residence, 4:12 AM

"My, it took you awhile to scope out Dr. Wallace's residence," Logan said as Max entered.

"Find anything interesting."

"Not about this pyramid scheme," Max said. "But guess who his security chief was?"

"Jimmy Hoffa?" Logan said, his tone indicating humor.

"No," Max said, smiling. "Zack."

"You found him?" Logan said, his tone indicating seriousness and his eyes wide. "Does he know

anything about the others?"

"He said that some others went west, while he went east. He's been a hired gun for the past few

years, fighting bandits and marauders and such things. He hasn't had any contact with the others since

the immediate aftermath of the escape. And you don't need to worry about Dr. Wallace; a small army

invaded his house just as Zack and I met and knowing the guy's history, they probably killed him."

"His history?"

"Remember the Balkan War? This Dr. Wallace hired on to the Turkish chemical-biological

weapons program. He created the Black Friday virus and the hallucinogenic gas, among other things.

This ties in nicely. A man running a scheme similar to the one that destroyed the economy of a country

involved in the Balkan War who participated in said conflict. Irony is nice."

"Ah," Logan said. "Perhaps I should meet him."

"Also," Max said. "It turns out the seizures I have are one of many genetic mutations that

cropped up among the Manticore children. Zack's body can regenerate itself remarkably quickly. Just

three hours ago, he took fourteen rounds from a heavy machine gun and came up a few seconds later,

mad as hell. The night of the escape, Lydecker tore his face and part of his throat wide open and left

him to freeze and he survived the whole experience."

"My sources on Manticore stated that the seizures were common among the children. That's

how the medication clued me in."

"Perhaps other children have the seizures besides me, but Zack apparently doesn't have them."

Logan shrugged. "Oh well. I still haven't come up with new information since this morning. I do

have pirate cable broadcasts to run, some charitable organizations to check up on, and I need to check

on my investments to keep my cash flow running properly. Plus physical therapy. I think I've gotten

some feeling in one of my big toes."

"Nice," Max said. "Oh well, if that's about it"

"Come now," Logan said. "Surely you'd like to hang around for awhile. I haven't needed much

sleep lately, so I don't mind."

Max sighed. "Well, Sketchy and Kendra and Zack have all crashed, so I don't have much to do

until work."

"I thought you Manticore types didn't sleep."

"Well, Zack's not really asleep, he's just lying on a couch in my apartment staring at the ceiling."

Logan wheeled himself back, heading for the kitchen. "I've got some Burgundy that I'm dying to

get rid of. Thirsty?"

"Not really," Max said. "But I can hang around for awhile. How's your little pirate broadcasting

operation going?"

"Fine," Logan said, wheeling himself back toward Max with the bottle in his lap. "The Russian

guys have been dealt with already and I've all but finished up giving those eyes back to their rightful

owners, thanks to you. However, I don't really have any intelligence on any new problems that I might

need to send you to investigate. Seems like we both have a break."

"Yeah," Max said. "No more going around cracking heads for awhile. It's almost relaxing."

"Are you sure you don't want any of this?" Logan said as he filled a glass for himself but left

another one empty. "This is getting hard to find these days."

"No thanks," Max said. "I don't feel like drinking today."

"Fine," Logan said, putting the other glass away. "How's your job going?"

"Normal is still a jerk, while Sketchy is still coming up with get-rich-quick schemes. Original

Cindy is still pining for a date and Herbal is still being nice and somewhat incoherent. How's life among

the wealthy and powerful?"

"Just fine," Logan said, sipping his drink. "Hanging around the dartboard with some friends is

always a good way of going about things."

"My friends and I do bike tricks for fun, your people play darts. My, what a difference

disposable wealth makes."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Max's Apartment, 7:32 AM

Kendra was staggering half-asleep towards the coffee supply while Max and Zack were up and

cheerful. Of course, when one doesn't need sleep, one can be cheerful a whole lot more often.

"So, with Dr. Wallace gone, what are you planning on doing?" Max asked. "I don't know of any

soldiers-for-hire who are wanted around here."

"Maybe I'll sign on a ship, maybe to see the world," Zack said. "It's time for a change of pace

anyway. Maybe sailing about the open sea, the salt air and all, would be a nice thing to do."

"Sounds too difficult for me, motion sickness and all."

"Wimp," Zack said, not unkindly. "Have fun at your job; I'm going to go out and sell some loot I

got from Dr. Wallace's pad last night and have my clothing fixed. All those bullet holes let the cold air

in. Kendra, can I trust you with money and some pieces of gold?"

"Yes," Kendra said, smiling.

"Why don't you ask me?" Max said, cuttingly.

"Because you have a job, don't you? Currently, I'm unemployed, a landless man, so to speak.

Maybe I'll come back and watch TV. I've had very little real leisure time since the aftermath of the

little war with the Milwaukee Red Army, where I got a big share of the booty due to my rank and

could afford to retire for a couple months. It'll take some getting used to." He withdrew a wad of bills

and several gold pieces from his wallet and placed them on the counter. "I know exactly how much of

each I have, so don't pull anything, mind you." Then, his coat billowing behind him, he breezed

towards the door.

"While you're out, maybe you can pay a friend a visit," Max called after him. She quickly gave

Zack the directions to Logan's place and a brief description, carefully avoiding all mention of Eyes

Only or the fact that she was his "secret agent". Logan would be very interested in Zack, being that he

had a lot of interest in the children of Manticore when she met him and the fact that he knew one and

knew of another would have only whetted his interests.

"If I have the time," Max said. "He sounds like an interesting guy, a fat cat who isn't a jerk."

"Efficient, this old friend of yours," Kendra commented.

"The guy's had a much harder life than either of us had," Max said. "He probably doesn't trust

people he doesn't know."

Seattle Waterfront, 8:23 AM

Zack walked through the open-air markets near Puget Sound, his coat billowing behind him. He

was whistling cheerfully, but he kept his eyes out for possible threats. The idea that Lydecker was

lurking in the same city, heck even the same part of the country, was a troubling thought. Lydecker was

an evil, ruthless S.O.B. and his kind were a threat.

Police Command Center, 8:25 AM

"Mr. Lydecker, we usually don't give outsiders access to raw hover-drone footage. However,

due to the large donation you gave our department, we'll let you have the run of the control center for

the next hour," the fat police chief said. "Be sure not to disturb the equipment; it's sensitive and

expensive." He and Lydecker were in the small room lined with monitors that sufficed as the

hover-drone command center. The place was ordinarily staffed with four technicians, but special

arrangements had been made.

"Thank you, chief. You've been a big help," Lydecker said, outwardly happy but fuming inside.

He hadn't wanted to waste cash on a corrupt and idiotic bureaucrat, but his resources were not as

great as they used to be and he couldn't simply terrorize the man into letting him have access to

extremely sensitive gear, not with dozens of armed men in the vicinity.

"Have fun", the man said, running his fingers through his stringy black hair and slapping his fat

belly jovially.

Lydecker leaned back in the chair, his eyes on the screens. He spun the wheelie-chair around

and typed some commands into the keyboard. Now, the computers would tell him when any person

fitting the description of either Max or Zack showed up on the computer screens. He leaned back in

the chair and whistled "Ride of the Valkyries" while the hover-drones flitted about the city, looking for

his targets. He had two Blackhawk choppers filled with elite troops on alert, ready to strike at a

moment's notice.

Jam Pony X-Press, 8:30 AM

"Are you sure you don't want to help me knock off casinos?" Sketchy asked Herbal as they

walked towards their bikes. "Big money here."

"De Most High says dat stealin' is a bad ding. De messengers are getting' takin' to judgement en

de bales dis time."

"Come on!" Sketchy said imploringly, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "It's like, 'eat the rich',

man!"

"Shut up," Original Cindy said, swooping in. "Last time you had one of your get-rich-quick

schemes, Max and I had to save your butt from some Russian goons. You want to get Herbal in

trouble now?"

"No," Sketchy said stupidly. "But come on! These guys have so much money they won't miss a

few grand."

"Own time people," Normal said. "I'm still ticked about those infinitesimal dents you left in the

lockers last time you got in trouble. To top it off, having one of our messengers hung naked from a fire

escape has really given our firm trouble. I've got my eyes on you, Sketch." Normal pointed his middle

and index fingers from his left hand at his eye, then pointed his index finger at Sketchy, who trembled.

"If you get more of our people in trouble, you're going to be looking for a new job."

"Honestly man, it wasn't that well known!"

"Whatever, Sketchy. Don't get in trouble anymore."

"Hey, dat be good wisdom from de boss man," Herbal cut in.

"Finally I get something respectful, not to mention coherent, thought from you," Normal said

angrily. "Now stop encouraging Sketchy's hare-brained schemes and get to work."

Normal spun away and headed for his booth before anyone could respond. A few minutes after

Normal left, Max came walking up.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Sketchy's still tryin' to rob casinos," Original Cindy said. "This time, he wants to whack the

Crystal Pistol out near the Naval Reserve. He's looking for people on bikes to provide a distraction."

"Wasn't that the plot of a movie from the 1960s?" Max asked. "Something like Hell's Angels

Forever?"

"You keep readin' those books about de unrighteous movies and you head'll roll ride off,"

Herbal said. "Dose movies will mess wid yo brain."

"I don't have the money to go to vintage movie houses," Max said. "Is there anything else going

on other than Sketchy's ridiculous plans?"

"They aren't ridiculous, man," Sketchy implored. "Just listen!"

Police Command Center, 8:46 AM

"I've got you now, Zack," Lydecker said. "You really ought to have laid low after that business

at Dr. Wallace's mansion." The attack on the estate had been planned and executed by another

commander, but Lydecker had been brought in due to his presence in the area. He knew about the

new arrival from interrogated survivors, so he had a vague idea of what the man would do next.

However, he didn't expect him to act so monumentally dumb as to sell contraband goods within hours

after getting them. Proof that they were getting soft.

He removed a cell phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear. "Blackhawk Team A, move

in. The target is a Caucasian male in his early 20s in a dark trench coat in Wang's Pawn Shop in Old

Chinatown. I want him alive, preferably."

Wang's Pawn Shop, 8:51 AM

"My, these are some fine antiques," Jimmy Wang said as he looked over the small statues that

Zack had appropriated from Dr. Wallace's house. "One of these looks like early Olmec jade. How

much would you like for them?" The reedy Asian man looked intently at Zack, stars in his eyes. The

man got pretty excited about the pretty, high-class items that would add grace to a store that seemed

to sell mostly guns, used books, and busted-up CD players.

"I'd say around $2,750 for the jade statuette, maybe $2,000 even for the other three statues.

Those little statues are American-made "China", but are still pretty fine in and of themselves," Zack

said. "That comes out to $8,750 for the whole package. I'm sure you can jack up the price gigantically

and sell them for a tidy profit."

"Almost nine thousand dollars! That's robbery!" Wang said, throwing his hands in the air. "How

about $5,000 for the whole set?"

"No," Zack retorted. "Maybe $7,000."

"$6,000 maximum," Wang said. "Take it or leave it."

Zack gazed intently at Wang. "That's it?"

Wang stared intently right back. "That's it."

Zack's training came back, keep moving in enemy territory. With Lydecker, a bad memory

recently come back with a vengeance, the whole city was enemy territory. "Fine," he conceded. "Six

grand."

Wang reached back and removed the money from the safe, keeping a hand on the Smith and

Wesson strapped to his waist. Zack could have easily snatched the gun, the money, and the antiques,

but stealing was bad for an economy already in the tank. He made a habit of looking at the bigger

picture. Zack waited for the man to get the money while listening to the faint sounds of a helicopter that

was passing overhead.

Suddenly, things started happening very fast. The roar of rotor blades increased in volume

suddenly, indicating that the helicopter was landing in the street. Zack recognized the unique sound as

that of a Blackhawk troop transport. The fact that it was here seemed to indicate Lydecker's hand. He

drew the Uzi pistol from his coat and checked the ammunition. Three quarters of the clip. He turned to

see Wang drawing his Smith and Wesson.

"Don't try anything," the man warned, pointing the gun at Zack's face.

"You'll need the gun," Zack said. "But not for me." Zack spun toward the door, gun pointing

out, when the first of the elite soldiers burst in. In the brief time that Wang was threatening Zack, the

doors had opened and Lydecker's soldiers were spilling out into the street and into the pawn shop.

Zack felled two of them with two rounds between the eyes. However, two more got close

enough to open fire with their machine guns. They weren't firing to kill, but apparently to pin Zack

down. Several rounds exploded three of the four statuettes.

"That's $2,000 now, since three of the statues are gone!" Wang called, ducking behind the

counter. "This is your problem!"

Zack didn't answer. Instead, he leaped vertically up and landed behind the counter, next to

Wang. A moment later, he popped up and shot three of the invading troops. He thought back to the

Manticore training, wondering how many troops could fit in a Blackhawk chopper. Ten? Twenty?

How many? A grenade landed next to him; apparently Lydecker's men were trying to flush him out.

"Move!" Zack shouted, shoving Wang away from the bomb. The grenade fragments would be a

minor inconvenience to him unless they were immediately lethal, but Wang would be dead if he was

caught near the blast. As an afterthought, Zack kicked the grenade around the counter. It wasn't close

enough to the rapidly-growing commando horde to wipe them out, but it would surely delay or distract

them.

A few seconds later, the grenade exploded. Zack heard several screams behind him, indicating

that some damage had been done. He took the opportunity to pop back up and spray some

suppressing fire from his Uzi. When he checked the clip, he saw that he had only twelve rounds left. A

quick look up indicated that there were eight of Lydecker's troops in the room who were still healthy.

He decided that he would have to take the fight into the open to get away and save Wang's shop from

total destruction.

He tensed his legs and made a flip over the counter and over the soldiers, spraying them with the

Uzi. The clip clicked empty as he landed, but three of the eight men were dead and two were

wounded. Before they could blink, he was out the door.

Police Command Center, 8:56 AM

The hover-drone's cameras caught Zack exploding out of the pawn shop and leaping vertically

up onto the awning. With another leap, he was gone. Lydecker replayed the shot and got a rough idea

of the leap's trajectory, which would place him on a neighboring fire escape. He drew a cellular phone

from his pocket and leaned back in his chair.

"Sergeant, I believe your quarry has escaped. He's on the fire escapes to the left of the building.

In what shape are you in?"

"In what shape?" the man half-screamed. "Most of my people are dead or wounded! I only have

three totally healthy guys left including myself! How do you expect me to pursue!"

Lydecker sighed. "Leave your dead and wounded; I'll arrange for medical transport. The rest of

you give chase. I'll call the Blackhawk to give you an airmobile advantage."

"We don't leave our people behind."

"Captain, I might listen to you if we were in a foreign country like Vietnam or Turkey. However,

this is the US of A here and your wounded will not be threatened. Go after this man now. Shoot to

cripple if you must, but be sure to hit him with at least three times as many rounds as you would need

for a crippling shot and be sure to hit him with at least two shots that would cripple a normal man. This

character is surprisingly resilient."

"Yes sir."

Nearby Fire Escape, 8:58 AM

Zack scrambled up the metal girders, keeping a close eye on the pawn shop. The Blackhawk

was sitting on the sidewalk next to the store, but it was making no attempts to pursue. He didn't stop,

though, but leaped further up, climbing the fire escapes up the side of the buildings by leaping from one

building to another. He couldn't afford to stay still for long; the enemy was on his tail.

His chest and stomach hurt badly, but not from cramps from exertion. Rather, he had apparently

been shot in the fight with the soldiers and he didn't know it. The wounds were not healing as quickly

as he was used to. Apparently his nutrient reserves had been used up and the wounds were not

healing. His knowledge of human anatomy and his altered body indicated that unless he replenished

himself with food, his body would begin breaking uninjured cells to repair the damaged areas. He

didn't have too much fat on him, so it would be muscle that would be dissolved. Muscular regeneration

took a lot of nutrients, so it once he got hold of nourishment it would take a lot to restore him to the

peak of his powers.

"Damn," Zack swore. "I don't have time for this." He had gone out this morning expecting to sell

some stolen goods and make enough money to live on for awhile longer. Instead, he ended up getting

in a firefight with Lydecker's goons and being shot at least once. What could possibly be worse?

Suddenly, the sound of rotor blades echoed behind him. Apparently, the soldiers were giving

chase. The Blackhawk rose in the air behind him, looking like a black, ominous insect. This chopper

had huge guns mounted on the underside of its fuselage, giving it massive offensive power. Zack shook

his head.

Streets of Seattle, 9:00 AM

Max pedaled her bike down the street along the waterfront, carrying a medium-sized satchel. It

was a fairly important package, judging by the emphasis Normal put on its contents. The satchel

contained what felt like a heavy metal box, but Max wasn't particularly interested in what was inside.

Just deliver the thing and get back, like always.

She didn't really notice the police hover-drone floating behind her as she pedaled along. The

Seattle police had used hover-drones for five years to keep an eye on the parts of the city that the

overburdened police force couldn't patrol and everyone was pretty much used to their presence.

Police Command Center, 9:02 AM

"Just my luck," Lydecker grinned evilly. "Not only am I in pursuit of one of them, I have just

found another. It's my lucky day." He took out his cellular phone again and made the necessary calls.

Streets of Seattle, 9:05 AM

Max turned her bike up the steep road that climbed up the hill through some slightly run-down

apartment complexes. This particular area of Seattle had all sorts of twists and turns and was hard for

messengers to get to their destinations quickly. Thankfully, she had already dropped off the package

and was now making her way back. She looked behind her as she pedaled up the hill, taking in the

view. Although some of the stairways and walkways blocked parts of the view, the scene was

beautiful. Puget Sound sat below her, with the aquarium on the left and some of the markets on the

right. However, there was that police drone. It had been following her specifically for a whole lot

longer than those things usually did.

Max looked around a bit. She could hear a faint sound in the distance, the sound of rotor blades.

There weren't too many helicopters about these days due to the fact that few could afford them. She

kept her eyes peeled, watching the sky. It was a clear day, which aided her Manticore-augmented

vision. A faint black speck was heading quickly towards her. Max's pupil's irised wider, giving her a

much closer look at the chopper.

It was a military Blackhawk chopper, armed with dual chain-guns, which were not part of the

standard armament. A look through the cockpit window to the space behind the pilot showed that it

was loaded with soldiers. Apparently Lydecker had taken control of the police hover-drones. She

quickly began pedaling away from the drone, hoping to lose it and throw her pursuers off her trail. The

thing kept up pursuit, staying just out of reach. Max briefly wished that she had accepted Logan's gift

of the .45 pistol. It would enable her to damage or possibly destroy the drone while getting away from

it.

She pedaled up the long hill, not getting tired at all. Still, the drone kept up and the Blackhawk

was getting closer. Those soldiers were heavily armed and dealing with them could be a major

problem. Suddenly, she had an idea.

She spun the bike around and began tearing down the long hill, building up speed rapidly. The

drone did a three hundred sixty degree spin and set off in pursuit, but it wasn't fast enough. The

Blackhawk peeled after her, indicating that the pilot had an idea of what she looked like. She was fast

enough on her bike to outride a police hover-drone; she could not escape a military chopper. Even as

she tore down the hill in excess of forty miles per hour, the relentless craft came down faster. She

decided to enter the underground area, a maze of shops and tunnels beneath the dockside markets

where the chopper couldn't get to and even the hover-drone would have problems.

The closer she got to the entrance to the underground and safety, the closer the Blackhawk got

to her. If it got within cannon range, it could kill her or tear up the surrounding environment to the

extent that she would be tossed off her bike and captured easily. She turned the bike some side to side

in a serpentine manner in a way that would make it more difficult for the gunner to draw a bead on her.

It worked. The massive chain-gun burst that would have riddled her with bullets instead missed,

shredding a nearby apartment wall. The safety of the underground was within forty yards. The

helicopter rotated in midair, the gunner aiming for her again. These guys were lethal and ruthless.

Roof of the Building Housing Wang's Pawn Shop, 9:07 AM

Zack bolted down the length of the roof of the building, dodging air conditioner blocks and

chimneys. The enormous Blackhawk bore down behind him, its gigantic guns trained on him. A soldier

was leaning out of the side of the chopper, trying to get a bead on him with an M-16 rifle. Every so

often, he'd loose a 5-6 round burst, but he always missed. Why didn't the gunners shred him with the

massive guns and stop wasting time with small arms fire, Zack did not know, but he couldn't run like

this forever. He was already weakened due to wounds he received in the gun battle and he knew his

body was metabolizing his muscular tissue to feed his massive exertions and heal his wounds at the

same time. Due to his increased efficiency in the metabolism of glucose, the atrophy wouldn't be

massively extreme, but it would add up eventually. He'd have to get away, and fast.

Inside the Blackhawk, 9:08 AM

"This guy's fast," the pilot said into his radio. "I've got a guy trying to hit him with small arms fire

from the side, but he can't hit him. Can I attack with the chain-guns, sir?"

"No!" Lydecker snapped. "I want him captured alive, not killed. Attack his surroundings if need

be, but don't injure him directly."

"How would hitting his surroundings benefit? No disrespect intended, sir, but I'd like to know."

"If something exploded next to him or under him, he'd be sent flying and possibly knocked

unconscious. That way, your people could capture him easily enough. Now do what I say. That's an

order."

"Yes sir."

The Roof, 9:08 AM

The massive guns roared and an air conditioning block immediately behind Zack exploded. The

blast sent him tumbling along, coming to rest next to a skylight. The massive chopper hovered over him

and the man with the M-16 drew a bead on him, ready to strike.

Still possessing supernatural strength and reflexes, Zack leaped up and snatched the rifle from the

man's hands. He spun it around and smashed the man in the face, not wishing to waste ammunition. As

the man tumbled unconscious from the Blackhawk's doorway, Zack smashed the skylight with the rifle

butt and dropped into the room below.

Apartment 509C, 9:09 AM

Surrounded by shards of broken glass, Zack dropped onto the double bed inside. The room was

dark and shadowy, even with the burst skylight admitting the sun. A female voice yelped as Zack

landed on her, indicating that bed was occupied.

"Sorry, ma'am," Zack said, remembering his manners. He jumped off the bed and breezed

toward the door. Escape from the Blackhawk soldiers was a priority, but if this woman had any food

handy, he needed it. He looked about for a kitchen, keeping one ear open to detect any pursuers. He

sniffed the air a bit, and smelled the odor of ham. It was coming from the left. He turned and opened

the nearby door, entering the kitchen.

The kitchen was a frugal affair, with a small refrigerator and a table set for two. Zack sniffed the

air again, tracing the odor to the refrigerator. With a quick movement, he dashed over to the appliance

and opened the door. His eyes swept the inside of the refrigerator, revealing the presence of a small

ham and two potatoes. He'd need the ham at least to regenerate his muscles; the potatoes' starch

would help him out too. With a lightning-fast movement, he yanked the small ham out of the refrigerator

and began to gnaw on it. As the food entered his stomach, his efficient digestive juices began to break

it down. He felt the tenseness of his arms beginning to relax, indicating the muscular regeneration was

underway. This was faster than normal.

By the time he was finished with the ham, only the bone was left. He grabbed one of the potatoes

and devoured it quickly, eating the skin along with the "meat." He looked back to the refrigerator to

see that the one potato and some string beans were the only things left inside. He shook his head and

removed two gold pieces from a coat pocket, which was worth a whole lot more than the ham and the

potato. He placed them on the grease stain where the ham used to be and shut the refrigerator door.

Nobody was coming in. Still, he picked up the M-16 rifle that he brought along with him and checked

the ammo. Ten rounds left in the gun, which was good enough for his purposes. He kept the gun in his

hand and exited the kitchen.

Police Command Center, 9:12 AM

"Damn and blast!" Lydecker swore, enraged. "The girl got into the underground, where the

Blackhawk can't get her and I can't find her with the hover-drones. The male got into a bloody

housing project and the Blackhawk I've sent after him has too few soldiers to mount a major search of

the building. Still, I have the hover-drones and can keep an eye on the city for a little more."

"All right, mister, get out," the police chief said, swaggering into the room. "Time's up."

"I have exactly thirteen minutes to go, Chiefie," Lydecker said in his graveyard voice. "I paid you

the money, so honor the terms of our agreement."

"Honor has no place in my vocabulary, bitch," the chief said, drawing his sidearm. "Get out."

Fuming, Lydecker climbed out of the chair. He had several guns on him, but if he used them in

the police station, he had virtually no chance of getting out alive. As he stalked out of the room, he

began forming elaborate plans for the death of the chief. Perhaps having some of his elite guards storm

the lavish mansion the man had built with his bribe money and destroying it would make the man more

tractable. Or maybe the old bamboo-splints-under-fingernails routine. That would do nicely

Seattle Underground, 9:15 AM

Max pedaled her bike through the hallways toward the ramp leading to the surface. She wanted

to delay as much as possible in order drive whoever was controlling the drones insane with boredom,

but she needed to get back to Jam Pony X-Press ASAP. However, the presence of the helicopter and

the soldiers indicated that Lydecker was about. This was troubling. She'd gone too far to be

recaptured and either killed or made into a military slave again. She decided to get back to Jam Pony

X-Press via a roundabout route to dodge any troops Lydecker had sent to guard the obvious routes

away from the underground.

Streets of Seattle, 9:20 AM

Zack walked down the street, the M-16 looped over his shoulder. He felt a lot better since he

ate and there was a slight spring in his step. Not all of his consumed muscles had regenerated yet, but

they would when he got hold of some more food. Several street vendors selling fish and local produce

were floating around and they looked tempting.

"Zack!" someone shouted and he looked to see Max pedaling toward him on a pedal-powered

bike. She looked like she'd just gotten in a fight with a whole lot of people just recently. "Lydecker's

found us."

"I've noticed," Zack said. "I lost my Uzi and got a good rifle for my pains. However, I've just

been chased about by a gigantic Blackhawk and been shot multiple times. Dare I say it, I think I may

have nearly metabolized myself to death."

Max smiled slightly at the thought of Zack imploding due to exertion, but her seriousness

returned. "If Lydecker has a definite lead on us, we've got to split up in order to give him the most

trouble."

"I know that," Zack said, eyes hard and glinting like a dagger. "However, I have a different

idea."

"What?"

"Find Lydecker and kill him." Zack smiled grimly. "If we look for any major troop

concentrations, he's likely to be near them. Or maybe your friend, the rich guy. He might know. A

preemptive attack would be a good idea. I remember that that's how the good old US of A stopped

China from attacking Taiwan by hammering the major military command centers and nuclear bases

with submarine missiles unaffected by the Pulse and shooting down the surviving road-launched

ICBMs with that SDI thing that President Browne built in 2007. That attack saved Taiwan and led to

the collapse of the most brutal Communist dictatorship in history. A preemptive attack here may have a

less significant but equally good result. If we can slip in, pop the guy, and get out, then we can free

ourselves and our surviving brothers and sisters from the threat. Aren't you tired of running your whole

life? I am."

Max frowned. A surprise attack on a vastly more powerful force with the sole objective of

assassinating one military leader seemed almost suicidal. Then, she grinned.

"Let's do it."

"Okay. When should we pay Logan a visit?"

"Perhaps 10 PM tonight."

Logan's Residence, 10:01 PM

"So we meet at last," Logan said, shaking Zack's hand. "I've heard about you."

"I haven't committed any war crimes," Zack said, half-smiling. "Let's leave it at that." Max in her

cat burglar getup and dark sunglasses and Zack in his dark garb stood in front of Logan, who sat in his

wheelchair. "Besides, there is a business aspect to this as well." Zack adjusted the strap on the M-16.

After the attack by the Blackhawks, Zack had procured four full banana clips for the gun from a local

dealer, along with a few fragmentation grenades. Just in case.

"What?" Logan asked, curious. The presence of two children of Manticore in his foyer had

charged him with a great deal of energy.

"Zack has come up with a plan to assassinate Lydecker and thus end our problems. However,

we need to know where he is and how many troops are likely to be around him," Max said. "I think

it's kinda crazy but it would be worth a try."

Logan's eyes widened. "You think I can find that sort of information?"

"Well, Max said you had a lot of resources and information. Lydecker's rank is not all that high,

probably a colonel at the highest. Just type in 'Lydecker' into one of those Internet people-finders and

you may find his home address. Lydecker is not exactly the most common name in these parts,

therefore you won't need to sift through too much garbage," Zack said. "I can make it well worth your

effort, if needed," Zack said, drawing a heavy gold piece from his pocket. After the battle with the

Blackhawk, Zack had returned to Max's apartment and secreted all his assets about his person.

Therefore, he had more cash money physically on him than Max or even Logan despite the latter's

on-paper wealth.

"You don't need to bribe me. However, I would like to know some information about

Manticore. Until I met Max, it was sort of a small obsession."

"Deal."

"I can look, but there are no guarantees. Lydecker seems like a behind-the-scenes actor and

there's no guarantee he's even based locally."

"That'll do. I'm not used to guarantees of any variety." Zack's voice at that moment seemed

world-weary, a crack in his façade of invincibility. Logan turned around and wheeled himself towards

his rather expansive computer system.

"Nice rig your boyfriend's got," Zack asked as he followed Logan around a corner into his

computer room. "Wonder how much it cost?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Max said indignantly. "Where did you get that idea?"

Zack shrugged. Already Logan was at his console typing and Zack kept an eye on him. Max had

told him about the thing with Hannah on Sedro Island and although she trusted Logan, Zack was still

slightly suspicious. A rich guy who wasn't a jerk; those were a rare breed in this city. Granted, Zack

thought, he'd only met two rich guys in Seattle, but he'd heard of others.

"Bam!" Logan said. "I've got him." Zack and Max stepped up behind Logan's wheelchair as the

man brought up a description of Lydecker.

"Colonel Jerry Lydecker, US Special Forces. This your guy?" The computer screen showed

Lydecker's face and his service record. The man had apparently fought in the First Gulf War of 1991

and in the Second Gulf War of 2010. The military brass must have thought that the war was so bad

that they pulled him off the search for the Manticore children for the year-long conflict.

"That's him," Zack said, rubbing the scar on the side of his face. "Where's he based?"

"Currently based in Fort Jefferson, just outside of Seattle. His office number is B201. The 124th

Motor Rifles, who were renowned for quickly and efficiently destroying the Iraqi ICBM base in the

northern mountains and the two Republican Guard divisions that protected it, staff the base. They say

that they prevented a nuclear or chemical launch on the United States mere minutes before the missiles

were supposed to launch."

"They defeated a larger force," Zack said. "But can they stop two determined people from

slipping in and killing one officer?"

Logan shrugged. Zack continued when he saw that Logan had nothing to say. "How did you find

all this, anyway?"

"I have the Internet thing active at all times because I need it so often. Thus, it didn't take me too

long."

"Being that most ISPs were in East and had their systems wiped out by the Pulse, I'm surprised

the Internet even works," Zack commented.

"Most of the dot-coms were based on the West Coast, only a few of the major providers were

East of the Rockies. However, most of the Internet users lived on the East Coast so traffic was light

since then. However, the Internet still works and for the most part still generates a profit. Besides, I

have a cable modem. That speeds things up considerably."

"Well then," Zack said. "We have our information so let's get moving."

"Wait a minute," Logan said. "The information about Manticore."

Zack sighed. "I'll tell you what I know."

Max stood by while Zack told Logan of all he knew of the Manticore project. Zack didn't know

too much more than Max did, surprisingly, but Logan did appreciate knowing about Zack's past few

years as a hired gun. He also seemed interested in the fact that Zack didn't have seizures as Max and

other Manticore escapees did, but rather was blessed with nigh-supernatural healing abilities.

"Isn't that odd, though? You were brought up to be a trained killer and you escaped to avoid it

and you ended up being one of your own free will."

"It was either that or die. Not much of a choice. Besides, the only people I've killed were those

who deserved it."

"And who deserves to die?"

"Murderers, terrorists, and other such people. Might I mention that a band of Middle Eastern

terrorists armed with an old Russian 100-megaton nuclear weapon caused this whole Pulse problem?

Stole the page from SIOP Light Switch, as a matter of fact. Detonate the bomb in a high-altitude burst

in the upper atmosphere and all the energy is released in the original electromagnetic form. The resulting

Pulse fries electronic equipment. That thing's been part of US and Russian nuclear strategy since the

1960s at least. One of the most destructive uses of a single weapon, even one of those monster

100-megaton bombs."

"But still, do you know that all the people you've killed deserved to die?"

"Logan, we don't have time for this. Maybe after we've gotten back from killing Lydecker, you

can lecture me about philosophy and morals. You surely see him as a threat; otherwise, why did you

help us?"

"In his case, I know him. However, what about those moonshiners in the Ozarks? All they did

was tax evasion on a grand scale and you and a few hundred National Guardsmen plowed them

under."

"They funded a small army of hardened guerrilla fighters armed with stolen military equipment.

The Pulse has set this country back centuries at least, politically. A republic disintegrates into

near-feudal conditions with the Federal government weak; now it's turning into a dictatorial

nation-state a la the Dark Ages. Modern feudalism has been all but crushed but we still haven't

re-evolved back to the form of government we had before they set that bomb off."

"All this political theory is fine and good," Max cut in. "But we have business to attend to. Every

moment Lydecker is alive is a moment he can hunt us or any of our siblings."

Zack shrugged. "Let's go then." He turned around and stalked towards the door; Max was

already waiting. The two of them departed noiselessly, leaving Logan by himself.

"Good luck," Logan said halfheartedly. As soon as they had left, he wheeled himself back to his

computer and began typing. He didn't totally approve of the whole preemptive attack on Lydecker,

but he decided to help out anyway. Communications would be a little difficult at Fort Jefferson for

awhile.

City Limits, 10:17 PM

Max braked the bike, stopping it well short of the armored checkpoint. This time, Sector Police,

all of them well-armed, manned both checkpoints. Zack, who was seated behind her and hanging on

for dear life, narrowed his eyes when he saw them.

"I had dealings with two of these people yesterday morning," Zack said. "They'll probably

remember me."

"I've rushed checkpoints before," Max said. "But they were smaller and manned by one or two

guards. This one has four and it's a lot bigger."

"Yes, but I have a heavy rifle and some grenades. That ought to make it a lot easier. If you floor

it, I can toss grenades into the checkpoint booths and make life seriously unpleasant for them."

"No," Max said emphatically. "If these were the type of gangsters that Logan sends me to deal

with, I might let you. However, these are people simply doing their job."

"So were the Turkish elite troops that sacked Belgrade and raped and murdered half the city's

population," Zack cut in, voice harsh. "Or the Nazis of the 1940s who were 'just following orders' in

all but annihilating Europe's Jewish population. If we simply rush them, they could get shots at us. I'm

not too worried, but you don't have my enhanced healing factor now do you?"

"It's my way or this highway," Max said firmly. "Remember, I'm the one with the keys to the

bike."

"Well how do you propose to get by them? Especially when they're all paying attention to us.

We've lost our element of surprise here." Max looked up to see all four Sector police training their

eyes on them. All of them had weapons in their hands with the safeties off.

"They're taking no chances," Zack said. Max's body obscured his so the Sector police couldn't

see him, but if they knew who Max's passenger was, they'd be opening fire and wouldn't stop

shooting until Zack was vaporized. The Sector police never forgot people who got by them, especially

if they could survive being machine-gunned. "Well?" Zack continued. "The only way to get by them

now is to at least open fire. These cops all wear bulletproof vests; perhaps a shot to the stomach would

stun them. I have only one clip of "cop-killer" bullets and it isn't loaded."

"But why shoot them?" Max said.

"It's either that or we delay our attack until tomorrow. Want to be chased along your bicycle

route again by a Blackhawk? Or maybe have your apartment invaded by Lydecker's goons? Delay is

death, Max."

"Fine," Max sighed. "Non-lethal shots only. And if any Sector cop obituaries are in the papers

tomorrow, I'll come after you."

"Wimp," Zack said, punching her shoulder humorously. "Well then, let's get going." He slipped

the M-16 off his shoulder and turned the safety off. "Drive."

Max floored the accelerator and sped toward the checkpoint. She ducked over the handlebars,

giving Zack line of sight toward the Sector cops. He raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger exactly

four times. All four Sector cops went down with bullets in their stomachs. Zack's enhanced sight saw

the bullets flattening out on their vests and dropping to the ground. However, the effect with like being

hit in the gut with a sledgehammer.

As the bike smashed through the crossbar and sped down the empty highway, Zack smiled a bit.

"They won't be eating for awhile, I assure you."

Max allowed herself to giggle a bit. "Good one."

The darkness had already swallowed them as the first of the Sector police rose groaning to his

feet.

Perimeter of Fort Jefferson, 10:34 PM

Max stopped the bike well outside the gate guard's field of vision. Two checkpoint booths

guarded this particular fort with massive automated chain-guns built into each one and a twenty five

foot tall electric fence topped with razor wire. The gate between the checkpoint booths was made of

heavy steel and it was electrified as well. Signs on both stated that forty thousand volts of electricity

coursed through them. Within the gate, Max and Zack saw several low building, but getting through the

fence was priority. Zack looked from the fence to the bike and back again, deep in thought.

"Oh no," Max said. "We are not going to use the bike as a battering ram to knock down an

electrified fence. You have no idea how much this set of wheels cost."

"Actually, I was planning on jumping the fence on the bike. Once we get inside, those guns won't

be able to turn around and fire on us."

"A dramatic entrance like that would attract too much attention," Max said. "We need to be

discreet about the whole process if we want to get out of this alive."

"Well then, is there any other entrance besides the gate? A river running under the fence, for

example? Or perhaps a way to short the fence? If we threw some water on it or maybe if I grabbed

onto the thing for long enough"

"You're not invincible, regardless of your healing ability," Max interrupted. "And the fence looks

too high-powered to be shorted out by water."

"Yes, but if the fence is incredibly high-powered, any stimulus lasting more than a few seconds

might cause the power system to blow a fuse. Perhaps if I tossed my rifle into the fence in such a way

that it got stuck, the current could get all fouled up and overload."

"Spoken like a true electrician," Max said. "But I have a better idea." She pointed towards the

road, where a huge truck was rumbling towards the gate. "If we climb on top of the truck when it stops

to be inspected, we could get in easily without playing with electricity."

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's be subtle then." He flipped off the bike and dashed

towards the truck as it began to slow down. Max kicked the kickstand and followed him.

Fort Jefferson Command and Control Center, 10:35 PM

"Food shipment's coming in," Lydecker said as he watched the view provided by the cameras

mounted on the chain-guns. "I can taste that ravioli right now." Lydecker and some others were

standing in the bunker-like C&C center watching the huge delivery truck as it stopped between the

guns. A soldier had left the booth and was looking over the driver's ID.

"The kitchen staff's in charge of the food distribution," Colonel Winston Stanfill said. "It'll be

awhile before you got to that ravioli, Jerry." Colonel Stanfill was a reedy black man in a dress uniform

who was smoking a cigar.

"I hope that awhile isn't too bloody long," Lydecker said. "It distracts from life's failures."

Especially the failure with the two Manticore escapees this morning and the bastard police chief's

breaking his deal. Already a small group of Lydecker's men were beating the crap of the chief in his

palatial estate, a warning to honor the terms of agreements. Still, he had no leads on the man and the

woman, which bothered him. Not only had none of his agents seen either of them in Seattle but Max

hadn't visited the PI in awhile. Not even the most graphic threats could get the fat Chinese food-addict

to get new information.

"Hey, sir," Captain John Stevens said as he watched the screens. "I saw something move near

the truck. Something dark and very, very fast."

"What was it, Captain?" Colonel Stanfill asked.

"It looked like a person, sir. This figure, whoever it was, moved in and out of the scene so fast it

was hard to get details."

"Someone skulking around this late at night at this base? I doubt it."

    Lydecker grinned because he knew better. A person in dark garb who moved

very, very fast. Apparently one or more of the Manticore escapees was taking the initiative and paying

him a visit with lethal intentions. Good tactics.

"Alert some of the base's guards," Lydecker said. "I have my suspicions."

"Jerry, why bother? Nobody's coming around this late."

"Colonel, do it." Lydecker had more experience and was therefore slightly more than equal with

Stanfill, despite their similar ranks. Stanfill turned to a phone in the wall and put it to his ear, then put it

down. Lydecker glared at him. "Colonel, what is the meaning of this?"

"There's no dial tone, only static. We're being jammed."

Lydecker swore. Whoever Max's mysterious ally was, he or she had struck again.

"Use the ELF lines. Those things have no outside links at all, so they're not likely to be jammed."

The ELF, or Extremely Low Frequency, lines were typically used to communicate with missile

submarines but after the Pulse, they had been built into major military bases because the EMP affected

ELF transmissions less severely. They were also self-contained, so jamming them would be extremely

difficult. However, whoever had jammed the lines had delayed the alert and given the intruders time to

enter the base.

Atop the Truck, 10:36 PM

"That was easy," Zack said. "Better than blowing out the fence."

"Yes, but we had to get a little close to those cameras in order to do it. Maybe we were seen,"

Max said. She was more cautious than Zack was, apparently owing to the fact that she lacked the

ability to regenerate from gunshot wounds.

"I doubt it." The truck began to rumble into the gate, past the checkpoint and the lethal guns. As

the truck turned away from the gate, Max and Zack rolled off the top onto the open ground of the

base. "Now, where's Lydecker's office?" Zack said, pulling his rifle off his shoulder and checking the

ammunition.

Suddenly, Max heard the sound of rotors. "A chopper's up in the air."

Zack swore. "Apparently we've been spotted. Let's find a place to hide, pronto."

The pair dashed off toward a massive stack of barrels of fuel oil. They could hide behind it and

Lydecker's men wouldn't dare fire on it for fear of setting off an inferno. The sounds of the chopper

grew nearer as the two of them ducked behind the barrels, Zack checking his ammunition and

grenades. "They won't fire on us from here, but we can hit them from a distance."

Fort Jefferson Command and Control Center, 10:37 PM

"Good idea ordering the choppers to search the base. They won't stay hidden long," Lydecker

said, eyes glittering.

"Who are they?" Colonel Stanfill asked. "Ever since the Captain saw something vaguely

human-like moving near the truck, you've been acting all obsessive."

"Colonel, they are some old friends of mine come to visit. My goal is to catch them before they

can get to me."

"Jeez, why do you have to be so vague?"

"Don't ask questions."

Behind the Barrels, 10:38 PM

Zack peeked around the edge of the barrel stack to see whether they had any company. He

narrowed his eyes when he saw a Blackhawk chopper with two huge chain-guns fly over a nearby

building, a searchlight seeking out any movement. The chopper, armed with massive weapons and a lot

faster than Zack or Max, was a major threat.

"Hey Max," I have a plan on how to deal with the chopper." He whispered something into

Max's ear and her eyes got wider and wider.

"Zack, an explosion like that would throw the base into chaos and"

"Make it easier for us to get to Lydecker," Zack said, smiling. "Not too difficult, in fact." He

reached a hand inside his coat and took off running. Max leaped away from the barrels, knowing that

very soon something unpleasant would happen.

The chopper pilot spotted Zack and turned in midair to chase him, its searchlight locked onto

him. Zack drew a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it next to the fuel oil barrels. The chopper passed

over the barrels on its pursuit course and

The grenade exploded, touching off the barrels. The enormous fireball enveloped the chopper,

igniting the ammunition in the gun. Smaller explosions flared as the guns exploded, tearing the chopper

in half. The enormous machine fell to the ground, fire bursting from its fuselage.

"Yeah!" Zack shouted, giving Max the thumbs-up. Max shook her head, half-smiling. He'd get

himself killed some day, she thought.

Fort Jefferson Command and Control Center, 10:40 PM

"What the hell!" Lydecker roared. "One of the chopper's has been brought down!" They had

switched the screens to show the view of the base from a hidden camera mounted on the side of a

building. That camera now showed the exploding fuel barrels taking out a fully-armed Blackhawk

loaded with elite troops. "How'd they do that?"

"I don't know, but that was some devious planning," Colonel Stanfill said.

"Put the base on Red Alert. I want the intruders found and captured. If they resist, kill them out

of hand." Technically, only General Rhodes, commanding officer of the base had the authority to do

that but the fat old buzzard was probably asleep. This'll wake him up, clear as a bell.

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