Outbreak (10 page)

Seven drew in a deep breath. A heady scent of flowers mixed with ocean air filled his senses. The sun beat down, warming his skin. People, an obvious combination of tourists and residents, walked down the narrow streets of Lahaina. The Creator had said Dakota would be here. This was where the assassins came. This is where she killed them all.

Seven moved past the gift shops, tourist haunts, and restaurants until he reached the coffee shop. He walked inside, removing his sunglasses to scrutinize the room. Everything appeared exactly as it had in his thoughts. Same tall windows lined the back of the restaurant. Same cramped tables. Same dim lighting fed mostly by the sunlight. He walked to the back row of tables. In his mind’s eye he could see the Assassin sitting with the Samurai. The Creator had said they were lovers. Destined to be together from the beginning. Based on the images playing out in his thoughts, Seven knew it was true. He watched as the two exchanged intimate glances and stolen embraces in the echoes of the past.

The scene continued to unfold around him. Gunmen at the front of the shop. Bullets whizzing past as people screamed and ducked out of the way. He watched the couple drop to the floor and crawl to their escape. He heard the gunmen scream as they fired on themselves. New emotions bloomed across his chest as the scene ended. Pain, outrage, fury. He would never trust the Assassin. She was a threat to the Creator, no matter what he said.

Have you found her?
The Creator’s voice filled the recesses of Seven’s mind.

Not yet.

New images filled Seven’s thoughts. The Assassin threatening the Creator. The Architect dying at the Assassin’s hand. The compound consumed by the fire the Assassin ignited. Each picture intensified Seven’s hatred, fueled his rage.

Find her now. Watch her. Report to me.

Yes, Master.
Seven embraced his orders and left the small restaurant.

He centered his thoughts and focused on the subtle remnants of the Assassin’s presence. He turned away from the small hub of restaurants and walked up a slight path. Businesses began to fall away, replaced by too-small houses and large fields of pineapple and sugar cane. Seven continued to walk pulled by an invisible thread connecting him to the Assassin.

I will find her, Master.

Of course you will.

Seven considered the task ahead. The Creator wanted the Assassin found, that much was certain. What Seven didn’t know was what the Creator planned afterward. He doubted his master would order her death.

Seven stewed. He wanted the Assassin to pay for everything she had done. He needed her to pay for killing his mentor, the Architect, not to mention burning down his home and threatening the only person he’d ever considered family. Seven wanted the Assassin dead. He
needed
her dead.

Seven replayed the Creator’s orders, saw again his master’s admiration for the Assassin. Her skills were not needed. He could give his master complete fealty. He could provide the skills his master sought. Him. Not the Assassin. There was no reason to allow her to live.

And yet, the Creator wanted it. The Creator was willing to endure the wrath of the Order to ensure it.

Why?

Seven pushed the doubt from his thoughts and focused only on his mission. Within moments fresh images of the Samurai and the Assassin flooded into his mind.
Found you,
he said to himself. He turned toward the mountains and began walking up the lonely path.

Seven climbed the steep rocky path that led from the beach toward the mountains. With each step, he could feel the Assassin. Images of her solidified in his thoughts. He could taste her fear, her doubt.
Weak, she’s nothing but weak.
The knowledge fed his frustration. Why did his master continue to insist that she was vital? The more he thought about it, the more he understood the Order’s distrust of the Creator. And the more he embraced their order to kill her himself.

He reached the top of the path. A small cottage lay in the distance, surrounded by a variety of tall plants and vines. Seven scanned the horizon with his eyes and his mind. Nothing. He walked to the house, his focus sharp. The front door of the house opened and two large men, Hawaiians by the look of them, descended the stairs. Seven slowed and leaned into the heavy vegetation, his gazed fixed on the two men.

They talked in heavy voices, smiling as they circled around the small house and up a dirt path toward the road. Seven remained hidden. No point in unnecessary killing. That only led to complications. As soon as the Hawaiians were out of view, Seven ascended the stairs of the tiny house. The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it open and walked inside.

A sharp scent of bleach assaulted his senses. Seven wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the harsh smell. The house was comprised of only two rooms—a common living area and a bedroom. He moved quickly through the space, trying to pick up the Assassin’s presence. Nothing. The place was clean in every sense. Nothing of the Assassin or the Samurai remained, physical or otherwise.

Seven paced. He knew this was where they were, he had felt them on the beach and along the path. “Where are you?” he asked no one.

The door to the house opened and the two men filled the doorway.

“What you doin’ here, brah?” the larger of the men asked. “Haoles not welcome here.”

Seven faced the men. “I’m looking for a friend. She said she lived here.” Seven clenched his jaw and waited.

The men poured into the cramped space and circled Seven.

“No, no one livin’ here now.” The larger man took a step toward Seven.

Seven nodded and smiled. He slammed into the men’s thoughts and filled them with images drawn from their nightmares. Murder and rape. The pictures streamed in rapid succession in their minds. They both took a step back, looks of shock etched on their faces.

“You should’ve just told me what I needed to know. It would’ve been so much easier.” Seven pictured the men falling to their deaths. Imagined their eyes bulging as their carotid arteries closed and their lungs collapsed.

In moments both men fell to the ground with a heavy thud, shock and horror still painted on their faces.

“Too easy,” Seven mumbled as he stepped over one of the men and fled the house.

He walked down the rocky path to the beach, clinging to the faint sense of the Assassin. “Where did you go?” Seven whispered to the memory echo of the elusive girl. “Where can I find you?”

Is she found?
The Creator’s words chased away the fading presence.

No, my master. Only a piece of her memories.

Rage, not his, bloomed in Seven’s chest and radiated upward to his mind. Rage and fear. He knew the Creator was disappointed. Angry. He had to figure out a way to find the girl.

Let’s hope it wasn’t a mistake to trust you with this mission.

Seven inhaled the threat in his Master’s words.

I trust you will know where she is when I return.

Yes, Master.
Seven felt the rage subside, replaced by profound shame.

His Master was disappointed. This could not happen again.

Seven hated being on an airplane. Something about the number of people, the incessant noise of their thoughts unnerved him. He stared out the window, unable to see anything below the thick cloud deck. A crumbled picture balled in his hands. He smoothed it open and memorized every detail of the Google Earth image: the house at the top of a twisted road, the porch that wrapped around three sides of the two-story structure, and the pines that surrounded the back of the house. He was taking a risk going to Cambria. But something in his memories knew this was his best shot at finding the Assassin.

Seven looked forward and closed his eyes. Darkness gave way to images of training sessions with the Architect. She had taught Seven how to see strategy, to anticipate his opponent’s moves. They’d played chess, sparred, and developed worst-case scenarios together. Seven’s heart clenched as her image came to life in his mind. Although he hadn’t worked with her often, she was his mentor. Family. Her death had been hard. Anger mixed with sadness as Seven focused back on his memory:

“Chess?” the Architect asked in his thoughts.

“Sure. But first, I have questions for you. How are you supposed to find the Assassin? No one knows where she could be.”

The Architect smiled. “I find it’s the details that give people away. In this case, the Assassin’s mother.”

“You know her?”

“Yes. She trained with us, all of us.”

“What did she say?”

Seven smiled at the memory of his eagerness.

“She said she always wanted to live in Central California. In a small coastal town.”

“So you’ll start there?”

“Yes.”

The memory faded quickly and Seven opened his eyes. Cambria was where the Assassin had spent part of her childhood. It was her home. And exactly where she’d go to feel safe. He took another glance at the Google Earth image before ripping it into shreds.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered to the thick plexiglass of the airplane’s window. “You won’t escape me this time.”

The plane landed and Seven retrieved a car and map to the small coastal town, his fake ID proving more than a little valuable. The sun sat low on the horizon, casting the sky in shades of crimson washed with purple and orange. He sped along the twisted highway, barely aware of the beautiful ocean in the distance or the changing colors of the sunset. Each curve of the road dredged up memories from somewhere deep. Seven had never been to the West coast. At least, he didn’t think he had. But as he drove the several hours between San Jose and Cambria, he began to wonder.

More turns. More echoes of memories long forgotten. Emotions swirled as Seven reached for the thoughts. It was no use, whatever Seven thought he remembered was lost the minute he reached for it. Frustrated, he turned off the emotional side of his mind and returned his focus to his mission.

The road into town was sparsely populated. He stretched out his mind, searching through the scant noise for anything that could lead him to
her
. Snippets of conversations filtered past. None of them are useful, nothing to indicate that the Assassin was home.

“Where are you?” Seven asked as he brought the car to a stop in the center of town.

New conversations pushed into his thoughts. Images of the house in the picture, and pizza.

“I’m sure it was her . . . the girl who went crazy and dropped out of school before graduation. She’s back.” The words mutated and tossed in Seven’s mind.

His risk had paid off.

Seven allowed his eyes to roll back as he reached for his master’s mind. “I found her,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Good
.

The Solomon Experiments 3.0

The Order

Dr. Benjamin LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

July 4, 2015:

I am disappointed in Seven’s training. Despite his obvious talent and loyalty, his mastery of skills is a slow process. Perhaps he has too much of his mother in him. I grow more impatient with each passing day. I need him to give himself over to the experiments fully, to trust in my guidance. His questions, his doubts—there is no place for them here.

The Architect urges patience. And perhaps she is correct. But, every time Seven fails, every time he questions me, my need for the Assassin grows. She never questioned my motives, she never hesitated or allowed her ethics to override her orders. Seven is too emotional. He needs to believe that every action serves humanity. He needs to believe the Order wants global peace. He needs to envision a future within their collective.

And perhaps he wants to gain my position within the Order, to replace me.

I will not allow this. I need him to remember that I, alone, determine his fate. That will never change.

The rest of the recruits perform as expected. The Architect is proving to be a strong leader. She proves her devotion to me and my cause daily.