Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (21 page)

There were eight stalls inside the room, all shielded by three walls of tile and a shower curtain, far more than they ever had in Room-14. Though Scott had grown accustomed to total privacy in his officer’s quarters at
Novosibirsk
, this was at least not a complete step backward.

There was also a bar of soap sitting in one of the stalls, which he supposed was a blessing, though he couldn’t bring himself to be totally thrilled by it. He forced himself to imagine it being brand new, despite the presence of a black, stringy hair that could have come from a chest or someplace much less desirable. Scott removed the hair, scrubbing the bar of soap thoroughly under the showerhead—then thoroughly again—before putting it to use. The fact that there was no shampoo was of little concern to him. The soap would work fine for all parts. Turning up the water’s temperature, he limped under the flow.

It was pure bliss. The moment the warmth covered his body, he closed his eyes and exhaled in ecstasy. The hot water was like a massage for his scalp and back. Setting his hands against the wall, Scott stood under the showerhead to take it all in. In that moment,
Northern Forge
might as well have been Paradise.

There was a veritable laundry list of things to do today. He needed to check on Centurion, then check on the Falcons. Auric and Catalina were injured. The
Pariah
was damaged and out of fuel. Svetlana was still somewhere else.

You’d better take good care of her, Oleg.

Even with everything going on around him, Svetlana was still at the forefront of his mind. With Centurion now in the hands of someone else, and with Lilan and his Falcons securely in their custody, Scott could now guiltlessly dedicate his thoughts to her.

I wonder if they made it to Chernobyl, yet. I wonder how long a drive that is.
He couldn’t imagine how Svetlana must have felt being surrounded by only Nightmen. At least she’d have Dostoevsky and Varvara, eventually.
I don’t even know where Max is.
It was dawning on him now just how fractured the Fourteenth was. The only comfort Scott could hold onto was the fact that, at the very least, David, Becan, and Jayden were still with him. The four of them were still one. He was thankful for that.

Smoothing his hair back, he closed his eyes and looked up, allowing the water to hit his face. The heat was rejuvenating. It even managed to diminish the soreness in his thigh. Blowing out a breath and looking away, he wiped his eyes and reached for the soap.

Though the actual cleansing part of Scott’s shower took all of five minutes, he lingered behind the curtain for almost twenty, strictly for its therapeutic nature. Only when his fingers had begun to show signs of serious wrinkling did he turn off the flow and allow himself to air dry. Wrapping the towel around his body and sliding on his slippers, he hobbled out of the bathroom smelling and feeling like a new man.

Apparently, David did, too.

Scott caught sight of his friend as soon as he was back in the hall. The former NYPD officer was literally at the opposite end of the long hallway, walking out of the other bathroom, clad in the same white towel and slippers as Scott. For a moment, the two men stared at each other across the way, surprised expressions on each of their faces as if they’d just looked into funhouse mirrors that’d altered their reflections. Then they both laughed. Approaching one another down the long hall, Scott spoke as they met in the middle. “We must’ve caught the same sale.”

“Yeah, I guess we must’ve,” David said.

“How long were you in there?”

David shrugged. “Twenty, thirty minutes?”

Just about as long as Scott. The two must have missed each other by minutes. “It looks like we just checked into the worst spa in human history.”

Laughing, the older man nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m not putting that old uniform on until its cleaned. It smells like funk.” He smirked. “I hope the laundromat has good detergent.”

Scott concurred. “I can’t think of a better time to track it down than right now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Together, the two men set off to explore.

It struck Scott as they trekked the empty halls of
Northern Forge
just how similar this experience was to the first time he and David had met at
Richmond
. The first thing they’d done after meeting was explore the small base. Here they were again, exploring a base that was even smaller yet vastly less cozy.
Northern Forge
felt like trespassing on someone else’s property. Perhaps that was due to Valentin’s “welcome.” Perhaps the base would grow on them, as
Novosibirsk
had grown on them and as Room 14 had grown on them. Time would tell.

They just didn’t have much of it.

Just the same, this was a place that needed to be explored, just as
Richmond
,
Novosibirsk
, and even
Cairo
had. This was home, even if on a temporary basis. They all needed to learn their way around.

Scott and company had already visited the topmost two levels: Level-3, which consisted of the hangar and “heart” of the facility, and Level-4, with the living quarters and medical bay. They could only assume that the
forge
aspect of the facility was located somewhere on Levels 1 and 2. And so that was where they went.

Level-2 of the facility was general storage. Storage rooms were scattered throughout hallways, some with food supplies, some with bottled water, and most critically to their protection, some with Nightman armor and weapons. There was slayer armor, fulcrum armor, sentry armor. There were even several full sets of EDEN armor that Scott could only assume were there for eidola replication. After being so depleted in the equipment category after their flight from
Cairo
, Scott could only liken this to finding an oasis of black metal. He’d gladly take it.

He and David also gladly took new uniforms, which were in abundance in several of the rooms. Though nameless and Nightman, the uniforms were better than the filth-endowed outfits the two men had left in the bathrooms. There were likely enough uniforms there to supply the whole of the Fourteenth and Falcons with clothing, as long as none of them minded wearing all-black. Scott doubted anyone would complain. With new pairs of socks and boots to match, Scott and David walked out of the storage section looking like a pair of Ignatius van Thoor’s most dedicated.

At long last, on Level-1, they found the forge. It lived up to its namesake. There were furnaces, rows of assembly lines, work stations, storage rooms dedicated solely to raw materials. There was even a small section dedicated to weapons, complete with a short firing range. Even at the early hours, workers were at their stations, pounding away in the sweltering heat of a dozen furnaces, covered from head to toe with sweat and soot. None of the workers were dressed in Nightman outfits, leading Scott and David to wonder if the Nightman presence near Norilsk was just as much that of an employer as that of a military cult. Regardless, the number of work stations and potential workers for them—at least during the daylight hours—was formidable. They must have been able to pump out weapons and armor at will.

Throughout the whole of their walk, Scott and David discussed the Fourteenth’s situation, from their status as the world’s most wanted to their missing members, Svetlana in particular. It was the first time that Scott could remember David having no practical wisdom to offer—only the somber acknowledgment that the situation they were in was far worse than any of them truly realized. In particular, David brought up their families, who were no doubt being questioned about the Fourteenth’s actions and whereabouts. The absence of emotion from David was what scared Scott the most. There was simply none there. It was as if they had reached a level where sadness and remorse were no longer of any intrinsic benefit. They were simply at a place where things had to be dealt with, and nothing else mattered.

Scott had his own concerns in the realm of family: his younger brother, Mark. He hadn’t spoken to Mark since his fall from grace and the murder of Sergei Steklov, which seemed like an eternity ago. But Mark was still his brother. Was he going to be detained by EDEN? Used as leverage? Or worse, was he going to believe that his big brother was truly a traitor? Mark was only going to see what was on the news, and what was on the news was that Scott was the leader of a terrorist group. The thought of Mark believing that was unbearable.

Mark didn’t even know that Scott was a Nightman. Scott had broken off communication with Mark after his fall, but he’d never
told
Mark about the fall. He’d only expressed his desire to lead his post-Nicole life by himself—alone. It was his way of never having to confess what he’d done to his younger brother. It was only now, when the situation demanded that he think about it, that he realized how wrong his approach had been. He should have told Mark what had happened, even if it meant Mark would have hated him for it.

You were never protecting Mark by not telling him the truth. You were running from your responsibility as the only father figure he had left.

Deep in Scott’s stomach, a tortuous knot twisted. He was such a fool.

David’s voice interrupted Scott’s self-loathing. “I wonder if we can get these forge workers to give some armor to Jayden, Esther, and Boris.”

“We took these uniforms, right?” Scott asked. “I doubt they’d even notice a few sets of armor missing.” There was no question that with the excess of armor here, no one would miss a handful of sets—particularly with
Novosibirsk
having fallen at the hands of EDEN. Scott wondered if these workers even knew about that. “Everyone you see here might have just lost their jobs.”

“Yeah, they might have.”

Snagging a dirty-faced worker as he trundled by, Scott asked in Russian, “Is there any armor here that a woman could wear? Even if it’s EDEN armor.” It was Esther who was in Scott’s mind with the question. He’d seen several sets of EDEN armor in the storage rooms, but none of them were small enough for the scout to fit into.

The worker’s mouth hung open in a stupor. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know. You would have to speak with the forge master.”

“The forge master, great—thank you so much, again.” Nodding politely, Scott bid the worker farewell then turned back to David to translate. “He said we can take some armor, but if we want anything Esther can wear, we need to talk to the forge master.”

“Yeah, I picked up about half of that,” David said. “He didn’t happen to say where we can find this guy, did he?”

Frowning, Scott answered, “No, but I’d imagine he’d stand out. I mean, you’ve got the word
master
in your title—you ought to look a little different, right?”

“The guy might not even be here yet. It’s what? Four o’clock in the morning?”

Scott looked at his comm. “It’s actually just past five.”

Eyes widening in surprise, David simply said, “Wow.”

“Which means,” Scott continued, “the rest of the crew’s going to be waking up soon. If they’re not up already.” The most crucial day any of them had ever faced was about to begin. Their plan—whatever it was they were to do next—would be determined today. There was no time to waste. “The forge master can wait. Let’s find Valentin Lukin.” Scott’s first encounter with the keeper of
Northern Forge
would have to be forcibly forgiven.

Today, all things started anew.

*
      
*
      
*

“Jayden?”

The Texan’s eyelids twitched from atop the covers of his lower bunk. In the bunk above him, Becan was still snoring. Not even the persistent rattle of a loose air conditioning vent had caused either man to stir until then.

Again, the voice addressed him. “Jayden?” At the hesitant touch of fingertips on his bare shoulder, Jayden opened his eyes with a startled snort. “Shhh,” the intruder said from her crouched position beside his bed. Squinting in the darkness, he turned his head to look at her. It was Esther. In her other hand was a white towel.

“Wha?” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she whispered.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he scratched his head. “Hey, baby,” the Texan said groggily.

Her brown eyes winced. “I hate to wake you up, but I kind of need your help.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said in his deep, half-asleep voice. “Whatever you need.”

“I, umm,” she said, falling quiet for a moment as she too seemed to be searching for words. At long last, behind the veil of an embarrassed smile, she found them. “I need you to…guard me while I take a shower.” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “There are two shower rooms here, and they are both completely full of
men
right now. Sooo, yeah. I was wondering if you’d play the role of lookout, particularly considering I’ve only a towel to wrap myself in.”

For several seconds, the Texan stared at her, until an eager look came over his face. He sat upright. “Yeah!” he said, lowering his voice a moment later after a quick glance to the upper bunk. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Esther smiled. Even in the darkness, her pearly whites shone beneath her tangled wreck of an inverted bob haircut. “Easy, cowboy. You’re just a lookout.”

“Yeah, no,” Jayden said, pushing off the bed, “I know what you mean.” Standing beside her, he reached for his eye patch and cowboy hat, the latter of which had been sitting on the nightstand. He set it firmly atop his head. “I won’t let nobody get to ya.”

“I know you won’t. That’s why I’m here.”

He held his hands out in an offer to take the towel. Esther accepted. Quietly so they didn’t wake the Irishman, the two operatives slipped out of the room.

As Esther had claimed, the halls were alive with the groggy bumbling of
Northern Forge
’s staff, many of whom were on their way toward one of the two bathrooms at each end of the living quarter’s long central corridor, and all of whom were indeed male. Opting for the shower room nearest them, which also happened to be one drawing the lesser of the two crowds, Jayden and Esther opened the door and eased inside.