Assault or Attrition (31 page)

I clasped my
hand over Peyton’s and looked into her eyes. For a split second I
considered my answer – the secret I’d buried for months was like a
drop of acid burning the tip of my tongue. There was no better time
to spit it out. “The truth,” I said, “is that I never completely
trusted McGarrity...but as it turns out he’s not a complete
asshole.”

The lie
detector required a truthful statement, but didn’t specify how
personal it needed to be. Thankfully my response was acceptable and
triggered the jet: a three-dimensional map of the world appeared,
which replaced Frost’s hologram. It was dotted with twenty-four red
markers scattered across the globe in random locations.

“What now?”
McGarrity said, squinting at the map.

I chose at
random, pressing my fingertip into one of the glowing dots that
floated above the South China Sea. The map disappeared with a
high-pitched chime, and the cockpit lights darkened as if I’d
powered down the jet. The faint hum of energy vibrated throughout
the craft, but there was no indication it was going to take off (or
blast its way through the collapsed tunnel, if that was even an
option).

“What did you
do?” Peyton asked, frantically flicking switches on the dash.

“Nothing!” I
shouted. “What the hell was I
supposed
to do?”

A hole burst
through the ceiling above the tunnel, pouring a fountain into the
Hall. The sudden rush of water jerked the ship off its axis,
sending us all crashing into the side of the cockpit. The jet was
submerged within seconds, and the darkness closed in around us.

When I thought
we were finished – just at the moment when I’d lost hope that we’d
somehow escape The Spiral – something strange happened: a dizzying
kaleidoscope of flashbulbs and violet streaks entwined our jet,
blinding everyone in the cockpit. There was no sound, or even the
faintest indication that we’d moved. When the light show faded we
blinked the sting from our eyes and gazed out the cockpit window,
stunned by the glittering orange vista.

We were
hovering above the ocean, staring out at a sunset.

I don’t
often have thoughts that could be labeled as religious
, though
I have to admit, there was a moment when I considered we had died
in The Spiral. That this was the afterlife, and we were about to be
reunited with our loved ones in a celestial paradise. For just a
millisecond I entertained that fanciful notion, and my
soul-crushing cynicism melted away. Then I glanced over my shoulder
and realized McGarrity was still here...it became painfully obvious
that if a Heaven existed, I wasn’t there.

The jet’s
autopilot system banked hard and descended, allowing us a view of
our destination. The fading amber daylight spilled between a pair
of towering rock formations, illuminating the water in a crystal
blue cove. As we made our approach I noticed that the sun-bleached
peaks, over-grown with lush vegetation, were not only part of the
stunning landscape – they were part of a fortress. Like Fortress 23
in Northern Alberta, there was a small city built directly into the
sides of the mountain range, spanning across the top of the entire
chain.

A pair of
three-winged aircrafts (likely drones, judging by their diminutive
size) buzzed around the jet as we made our descent. Whomever this
fortress belonged to, they were well aware of our presence.

We continued
our gentle, downward path towards what was now a clearly visible
hoverpad, which was encircled by a series of flat, dome shaped
buildings, each with a bronze-colored rooftop that was serrated
like a shell. The craft’s landing gear extended beneath us and we
touched down with a soft bounce, triggering the engine to power
itself off.

The door slid
open behind us, and a staircase invited us to step onto the
tarmac.

I was the first
to make my exit, followed by Peyton, McGarrity and Brynja. As we
gazed at the bizarre architecture that surrounded us, we were
approached by a cheerful young blond woman; she was shrink-wrapped
into a gaudy yellow dress, with her matching yellow hair pulled
back in a tight braid. She looked exactly how I remembered her.

“Welcome to
Fortress Eighteen,” she said with a song in her voice, wobbling
towards us in her six-inch heels. “I’m Bethany Price. We don’t get
many visitors out here so this is
quite
a treat. Can I
interest any of you in a refreshment? Teleportation can be very
dehydrating from what I hear.” She glanced down at her digital
clipboard and poised her finger over the touch-screen, eagerly
awaiting our drink selection.

“We’ve met,” I
said flatly.

“Really?” she
replied, tilting her head slightly as she studied my features.
“Well, that’s a surprise. I never forget a face...and I’m sure I’d
remember yours, cutie.”

From behind me,
I could almost hear the sound of Peyton’s face creasing into a
disapproving frown.

As if the
moment couldn’t get any more awkward, I decided to re-introduce
myself. “Matthew Moxon. We met right before Arena Mode last
year...you were producing the event.” Her eyes remained vacant. “My
eyebrows
...” I explained, pointing towards them with both
hands. “You told me I needed them ‘shaped’ before I went on the air
– whatever that meant?”

“Oh, right!”
she exclaimed, her smile brightening. “I got a promotion the week
before, so that was my last day in the media department. I was
transitioning into my new role here at Eighteen, and I flew out of
New York just after the event kicked off.” She trailed her eyes
across the confused faces of my friends, anticipating some kind of
a response. “So, don’t keep me in suspense, you guys...Arena Mode –
how’d you do?”

“I’m alive,” I
said with a shrug.

“I can see
that!” she exclaimed, playfully cuffing my shoulder with the back
of her hand. “Congratulations.” Bethany scanned us once again, this
time trailing here eyes from our feet up to our shoulders – no
doubt perplexed by our body armor. “You’re here to shoot a sequel
to Tron, I’m assuming? Mister Frost never sent a memo about the
fortress being used for filming, but I know he’s been trying to
acquire the rights to that franchise for quite some time.”

“No,
we’re...it’s actually a long story.”

“
Well
,”
Bethany said, gesturing towards our shimmering gold jet, “Mister
Frost
must
trust you all implicitly to let you take the
prototype for a spin. We manufactured the TT-100 right here, you
know.
Very
exciting. This is the only jet in the world that
can teleport. Well, until next year when they go into regular
production.”

It occurred to
me that Bethany was continually referring to Cameron Frost in the
present tense, which meant that she hadn’t seen the news in a
very
long time. “You didn’t catch Arena Mode last summer,” I
said delicately.

She shook her
head. “I’ve been here with the rest of the team for eight months,
completely off the grid. Mister Frost feels that simulcasts
distract his employees from their responsibilities.”

I nodded and
bit my tongue. Denying his employees even basic access to
communications didn’t seem out of character for Frost, but
considering what I was about to explain, I figured it was better to
keep that sentiment to myself.

“So how is he
doing,” Bethany asked cheerfully. “It’s been so long since I’ve
seen the big lug!”

“He’s dead,” I
blurted out.
Shit.
Being delicate clearly wasn’t my strong
suit.

“Oh...okay.”
Her smile faded and she winced awkwardly. It was almost painful to
watch. I had a feeling that Bethany’s mouth was so used to being
stretched into an artificial smile that it contorted like this as a
default reaction. “Was it like...an accident?”

“No,” I said
casually, staring off into the distance. “I was sort of the one who
killed him.”

“Sort of?” she
asked innocently. “Like...you didn’t
mean
to?”

“Oh no, I meant
to. It was pretty intentional, actually.” She recoiled slightly, so
I added, “But he was trying to kill
me
when it happened,
so...you know. It’s all good.”

Brynja patted
me on the shoulder. “Nice save.”

“Oh...okay,”
Bethany repeated, now chewing on her lower lip. She wrapped both
arms around her digital clipboard, hugging it against her chest.
“So...that makes this a little weird.”

“You don’t know
the half of it. Does anyone know we’re here?”

“As in...”

“As in several
million people and at least two governments want me dead, so the
fewer people that know my location, the better.”

Bethany shook
her head. “No one knows about Fortress Eighteen. In fact, the
location of
every
fortress is confidential, even to other
employees. Our fortress is R and D.”

“So aside from
research and development, what else does...
did
, Cameron
Frost have his fingers in?”

“Oh, a bunch of
different things,” she said with an awkward shrug, still clutching
her tablet like a security blanket. “Fortress One is agriculture,
Fortress Two is connectivity, Three is artificial intelligence,
Four is space exploration...it goes on and on.” She paused for a
moment and took a breath, seemingly to re-focus her attention. “So,
why are you all here again?”

As I spoke with
Bethany, I wasn’t aware that Peyton had wandered off in search of
better reception for her com. She opened the small round device
she’d located on level three of The Spiral, and had acquired a
signal for a local simulcast. “Matty,” she shouted, “you need to
see this.”

I jogged to the
edge of the hoverpad where Brynja and McGarrity were already
gathered, cupping a hand over their eyes to make out the images on
the screen. Even though it was two-dimensional, and the colors were
washed out against the setting sun, a picture was beginning to snap
into focus. A crowd was gathering – hundreds, maybe thousands –
outside of a hospital, surrounded by snow-capped evergreens.

The reporter
was speaking Thai as the camera panned over the screaming mob,
which was of little help – but I was able to discern a few of her
words that were said in broken English: “Thunder Bay.”

“
We can’t
just rush back there without a plan,”
Peyton said, clutching my
upper arm with both hands. “You know Valeriya will be expecting
that.”

“She’s right,”
Brynja added. “We have no weapons and no strategy. She has an
army.”

We were finally
safe, apparently beyond her reach. Valeriya Taktarov had no way to
retaliate after being forced to flee Fortress 23, so she was making
her final play – the only move she had left. She promised to make
the people I love suffer, and that I’d be forced to watch them die;
I had Peyton and Brynja with me, Gavin was nowhere to be found, and
my sister and her kids were under police protection; the last
person she could get to was Kenneth Livitski, who was clinging to
life in a coma. I hated myself for not considering this option.
With Valeriya’s resources it was just a matter of time before she’d
locate Kenneth, and in her mindset, she’d have no misgivings about
executing a man who was lying defenceless in a hospital bed.

It was no
secret that I betrayed Kenneth back in Arena Mode; ending his life
before I could make it up to him would be the ultimate act of
revenge. And threatening him, Valeriya was well aware, would be the
most effective way to draw me out in the open.

“We can’t
expose you like this,” Brynja said. “Think this through: as far as
we know, the Canadian
and
American governments sanctioned
your execution. You can’t just waltz back there
now
– the
cops might execute you before the Red Army does.”

I was so
incensed that I trembled. Part of it was rage, because I knew
Brynja’s assessment was dead-on. And part of it was teeth-grinding
frustration, because there is nothing that I hate more than this
kind of paralysis – knowing that something
has
to be done,
and not having a logical solution to see it through. Raking my
fingers through my hair, I considered every possible course of
action. “Bethany,” I said, “what kind of weapons do you have
here?”

“N-nothing,”
she stuttered. “I mean, we’re research and development, but nothing
military-grade. Everything we’re working on at the moment is for
transit.”

“There has to
be security protocols,” I snapped, throwing my hands apart. “Come
on,
think
– there’s nothing? Not even a guard with a
sidearm?”

“Look at this
place!” she said, her eyes darting around the perimeter of the
hoverpad. “We’re in the middle of an
ocean
. No one even
knows we’re here, and if any suspicious aircraft approach we cloak
and go into lockdown.”

I let out a
frustrated groan and turned to my friends. “We’ve lost too many
people today. People who didn’t deserve to die. Kenneth, he’s...” I
trailed off, letting my head sag. The thought of losing him –
especially like this – was twisting my stomach into a painful
knot.

“I know,”
Brynja whispered, running her hand along my shoulder. She had
forged an alliance with Kenneth inside The Arena as well, and knew
better than anyone about the pain of letting someone go. She could
be jaded when it came to losing acquaintances – almost to the point
of being callous – but her armor was stripped away when it came to
Kenneth. She’d be as devastated about his loss as I would.

McGarrity used
the light from the setting sun to produce a glowing broadsword. “I
can’t let you go alone and hog all the glory. This shit is gonna be
seen worldwide, so when you come out on top I wanna be there.”