Reapers: The Shadow Soldiers (3 page)

“Uh, just wondering the time,” he said.
 

“The clock is right above you,” she answered. He acknowledged and then scribbled down the time.

“One more thing,” he said as he pushed the pad back to her. She looked at him with open eyes, awaiting his request. “Where’s your latrine?” he asked.
 

Pointing, she responded, “Through the doors, and then to the right.”

Perfect,
he thought. Nodding back affirmatively, he made his way over to the doors.

Heading through them, he noticed that the whole back room smelled like they’d been papering the walls for hours, despite no one actually working at the time. In fact, it seemed like no one was working in the back at all. The long hall was tiles, closed doors, half-papered walls, and that was it. It looked about as inviting as death row.
 

Slipping into an office at the side, Burns noticed only two nurses were present. One, a blonde woman, was turned away from the door and seemed to be eating a cup of noodles. The other, a dark-skinned male with defined sideburns, was sorting through papers on a shelf. Both were oblivious, but nonetheless, Burns tried to go about as discreetly as possible. He grabbed a white doctor’s coat off of a hanger and flung it around to his back. A sudden squeak of a chair then caused him to look up.
 

“Excuse me. Who are you?” the blonde asked, now turned around.
 

“Transplant,” Burns answered quickly.
 

“From where?” she persisted with genuine eyes. The other nurse now began paying attention. Burns remained calm.

“Off-world,” he answered. “I couldn’t miss an opportunity to help in one of Altias’ most deprived districts.” He found that playing the most devoted employee always seemed to work. “After all, no veteran should be denied the right to a better life,” he said. The phrase was read off a poster found just behind the male nurse, but it worked nonetheless.
 

“Welcome to Altias then, doctor,” the woman said at last as she turned back and finished off her cup of noodles. The male nurse kept looking at him, so Burns made sure to give the man an approving nod as well. He responded in kind and then also went back to his work.
 

Adjusting the coat to fit comfortably, Burns began to head out of the room. As he did, he managed to get a glance at the facility fire preparedness map. According to it, the unmarked meds were kept below ground in cold storage. He assumed that was where the Flenin would be kept. He gained a slight bit of nervousness looking at this map though. Cold storage looked to be a maze of hallways. He hoped he didn’t get lost.
 

“Hey, do you need help?” the woman asked from behind him. Burns turned around and looked at her. He didn’t really want to bring someone along for the ride, but having someone along that knew the route could make his infiltration more seamless.
 

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered. “I have a patient coming in who’s going to need something strong but cheap.” He hoped that was enough of a description of Flenin to be useful.
 

“Sure, we have something like that,” she said, standing up. “Follow me.”

She led the way through the door as they proceeded toward the other end of the hallway.

“So, did you see what’s going down on Silverset? Scary stuff,” she exclaimed, beginning some idle chatter. Burns shrugged back to her, remembering vaguely the news report he saw at Lagona’s.

“Sure is,” he replied. She nodded back as they approached the elevator.
 

“You know, my father is stationed down there,” she said.
 

“No kidding,” Burns replied.

“Nope. He’s a lieutenant, a part of the planetary defense force. He got promoted from the invasion fleets.” Burns began to remember his time in the invasion fleets. Back in the day, that was where they had sent all the new recruits.
 

“Invasion fleets?” he repeated. “I served three tours in the fleets. What’s his name?” he asked.
 

“Alvarez. You know him?” she asked as she pressed the down button on the elevator.
 

“I’m afraid not.” Burns told the truth. The name wasn’t ringing any bells. It wasn’t much of a mystery though: lots of men served in the invasion fleets. “Are you worried about him?” he asked, understanding only vaguely what was happening on Silverset.

“A little,” she said. “He’s a good soldier, but he’s getting older. The reports say that things are bad. Nearly the whole planet has been taken over. The navy might even be sending an invasion fleet. Some people are saying that the Minister of War is in negotiations to let the planet be annexed to the Isolated territories.” Burns began to feel a little lightheaded; all of this was bringing back bad memories. “My father wouldn’t like that. He’d rather die than see us negotiate with terrorists,” she told him, but Burns’ only focus was on staying upright. Thankfully, the elevator had finally arrived. They both stepped aboard.

“That’s very brave,” he told her, still wanting an end to the conversation.

“Yeah, he’s the reason why I decided to be a nurse. I could never do what he does, but if I can protect the people who do—well, that’s priceless.” She began to sound like someone Burns once knew. He grabbed a hold of the picture in his pocket. He wanted to take it out, but knew that doing so would begin a discussion he didn’t want to deal with.
 

Eventually, the elevator reached the correct floor, and they stepped out into the cobalt-lit cold storage room. The name didn’t do it justice—it wasn’t just cold, it was downright frigid.
 

The nurse didn’t seem to care about the temperature, and soon they were on their way through the maze of halls. Burns was thoroughly lost, but she seemed to know the correct path. Within minutes, they were at a storage room door. She flashed her credentials and the door hissed opened.
 

“Good luck,” she wished as she walked away. Burns gave her a smile back and then waited until she was out of view before entering the room.
 

The storage room was small. It had a few shelves for extra supplies and then had a large space in the center where the pallets of medicine were kept. Burns made his way around this sealed pallet of meds in the center. From the outside, he wasn’t sure if it was the Flenin or not.

Shuffling through his pocket, he found a spare razor blade and used it to cut some of the plastic wrap around the pallet. He then ripped open a box and removed a transparent vial that clacked with little blue pills. He brought the vial closer to his face and read the inscription on one of the pills:
 

Swabboxsta

Swabboxsta was manufactured by Rhodine pharmaceutical, and its consumer name: Flenin.

Burns smiled. He’d done it.
 

Pocketing the items in his hand, he made his way to the front of the pallet and activated polarity. After a short humming sound, the pallet rose a few inches off the ground. He then approached the back once more and pushed the whole pallet of medicine easily out the door.

The fire preparedness map upstairs had noted a large crate elevator at the back of cold storage. It was accessed only by employees and let out to the arrivals pool. It was the elevator they used when they received shipments, but it would be the perfect method for Burns’ escape. He just hoped his stolen doctor’s credentials would work for the elevator’s scanner. He didn’t want to spend another second in cold storage, and for that matter, he never wanted to be in a place this cold again for the rest of his life.
 

ANSWERS

Leaving cold storage and the Veterans Affairs hospital behind, Burns pushed the pallet of Flenin down a few blocks. He then left the illegal drugs behind a defunct building while he acquired some lighter fluid and a match. Returning, he sent the entire pallet up in all-consuming flame. The inferno might have called attention to the local fire department, but a flaming pile of drugs was beyond banal for Fifth Street standards, so he doubted anyone would care.

The sun then began to lower and the evening commenced, so Burns took off from Fifth Street and headed back to Central City. There was a reason he no longer lived in this part of the town, and the nights were it.
 

Since he didn
’
t feel like walking all the way back, Burns decided to spend his remaining dollars and take the tram.
 

Descending to the station underneath the city, Burns had to admit that looking less homeless certainly helped with people
’
s perception of him. Walking through the dungy, urine-smelling underground, people actually managed to accept him as normal. It felt strange. He still didn
’
t
feel
normal. Maybe he truly did deserve the looks he used to get. They saw him as an abomination, and he couldn
’
t say he disagreed.

Finally boarding the tram, he sat down in an empty seat. It was well past rush hour and plenty of seats were available, so nobody sat next to him. The doors then closed, and the tram sped forward at lightning speed. All the other people seemed pleased to be heading home after a long day of work, but Burns could only put his head in the palms of his hands and breathe.
 

During the mission he’d felt more alive than he had in a while, but afterwards—after the adrenaline went away—he began to feel as bad as he did that morning. The truth was, he had no idea what was going to make him feel well again. Nothing he tried ever worked. Not even saving people could help. Maybe this was just what life was going to be for him.

No. He wouldn
’
t take it like this. If everything he just went through wasn
’
t going to work, then maybe he did need help. He would have to take Lagona up on his offer. Talking to him may be the only option left to solve the problem, even if it felt strange.
 

Arriving in Central City once more, Burns ascended from the tram station and headed back to Lagona
’
s pub.
 

The night was the pub
’
s busiest hours, especially when it was raining like it had begun to, so Burns didn
’
t expect the empty room he saw when he walked in. It looked like the place was closed; even the lights were off. Nobody seemed to be home. Except Burns noticed there was one person hidden in the shadows behind the bar table. They were thin and short, so probably not a man. Certainly not Lagona.

He continued toward the bar anyway. Lagona was notorious for denying thugs their “protection money,” as they often demanded. Burns feared they might have finally mustered up the courage to confront the man. They
’
d be sorry. Killing Ben Burns’ only friend was a very bad move.

Yet, for all his courage, even Burns’ breath was taken away when the person finally revealed themselves. It wasn’t some thug as he
’
d originally suspected. It was much worse. It was the woman who’d been following him all day. She still had her fresh face, but she
’
d donned a leather jacket and some blue jeans.

The woman approached Burns, and the only thing separating them was the bar table. Burns spoke first, which he didn
’
t do much of.

“Where
’
s the old man?” he asked, quick and short. The woman tilted her head ever so slightly before suddenly realizing what he meant.

“Oh, Dad. He had an emergency and had to leave, so he asked me to take over cleanup for the night. My name is Alex. I
’
m his daughter,” she told him, but Burns wasn
’
t buying it. Partly because he
’
d spotted the woman all day and partly because he
’
d actually met the real Alex Lagona. Whoever this person was, they had gone through a considerable amount of trouble to follow him, which meant they were very bad news…he didn
’
t need anymore bad news.
 

“Right. Alex,” he went along, trying to buy time to formulate a plan out of the encounter.

“My dad told me to expect you. Ben Burns, right?” she asked, putting out a hand in an offer for a handshake. Burns complied and shook her hand. It was cold.
 

“Your father talks a lot about you,” he mentioned, casually scanning the dark corners of the pub to see if the mysterious woman had any backup.
 

“He talks a lot about you too, Ben. He may have a shotgun strapped under this table, but deep down inside, I know that he loves people,” she joked, drawing a fake smile from them both.
 

Shotgun,
Burns started to think, but figured he wouldn
’
t be able to get to it faster than she would.
 

“Hey, is everything okay?” she asked suddenly. He had been darting his eyes around the pub the whole conversation, and apparently she had noticed. Shaping up, he looked decisively at her pale blue eyes.
 

“It
’
s fine. I just came to speak to your father, but since he
’
s not in, I think I
’
ll be going,” he told her, moving around the side of the bar and heading for the back door of the pub.
 

“Oh, come on! You don
’
t want a drink?” the woman asked as she followed him stride for stride from the other side of the mahogany bar table. He kindly shook his head to her offer.

“No thanks. Five years sober,” he explained as the woman pushed through a partition on the side of the bar and stopped directly in front of him, blocking the door in back. He readied himself for a fight, but she didn
’
t seem to have that idea. Instead, she looked at the ground and began to fiddle with her belt loop.

“Wow, this is awkward,” she abruptly stated.
 

“What?” he asked, continuing the conversion while looking for a way out.
 

“Well, my dad sorta set us up,” she revealed. At first Burns thought back to the old days when a setup meant a trap. Then he realized what she meant. “Like a date,” she clarified. This woman really did want to shadow him, and she was pulling all the stops in order to achieve it.