Page 20 of Death's Twilight

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Principal's Quarters, December 5, 2308 10:25:14 (T-Minus 00:01:37:58)

  The sun was just beginning to show above the Krymski Hory Mountains as Slade and Kozel reached the roof of a series of townhouses to the East of McDonald's office. Slade was slightly winded from shimmying up the drainpipe at the rear of the house, but Kozel was standing on the roof grinning like an idiot.

  "Would you at least crouch down, Kozel?" Slade hissed. "If someone sees you, my immunity won't protect you."

  Kozel quickly crouched down, one foot on either side of the apex of the roof.

  "Sorry, Emissary." He said, chagrined.

  "Don't get hurt today, and we'll call it even." Slade smiled to show him that he wasn't that worried about it. "How's your download?"

  He checked his chronometer. "Ninety-eight percent. Almost done."

  Slade silently cursed himself.  As an Emissary, he usually worked alone. He had been so wrapped up in making sure that he had everything he needed for the mission, he had forgotten about the time needed for Kozel's downloads. They'd just have to wait a few more minutes.  It just meant more daylight and a greater chance of being seen. Nothing big. Yeah right. Slade thought to himself.

  "No worries. It's not like McDonald's expecting us. She's in for quite the-"

  Slade stopped mid-sentence as a black hover come down the street and turn left into the compound. He pointed frantically to Kozel who had stood slightly to gain a better view, and he dropped flat to the roof, peering over the apex. He slid a little on the snow-covered roof, and grabbed the tiles frantically. Slade reached over to steady him.

  "McDonald?" Kozel whispered anxiously.

  "Either her or Herman. The guards wouldn't take diplomatic hovers."

  "What's the plan?"

  "Now that we know someone's home, we need to get to that other roof."

  "Sounds good. Do you want to go-"

  Kozel's chronometer began to chime, indicating the completed download. It sounded louder than a gunshot in the still morning. He quickly clamped a hand over the speaker portion muffling the sound. When it finished, we both scanned the street and windows in McDonald's office for movement. There was none.

  "Crisis averted." Kozel said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

  "And we know your downloads are done." Slade said sarcastically. "Time to move."

  They quietly picked their way across the roof, paying extra attention to the portions of the roof that were covered in snow. One misstep, and they could be hurt at best, at worst killed. As they reached the edge of the roof, a small flock of nightingales landed in the tree in front of them, chirping and squawking to each other.

  Slade tried to shoo them, but they chirped louder, as if he was infringing on their territory.  Kozel picked up a small rock and pitched it at the birds. It missed them completely, but hit a branch behind them. The report of the rock hitting wood echoed down the street, and made the birds take flight.

  "You were trying to hit the birds, right?"

  "No, I planned to hit the tree." Kozel said sheepishly.

  "Let's go."

  They cautiously made their way from the roof to the tree, being extra careful to be sure of their footing. As they made their way around the tree, tufts of snow fell from the laden branches to land on the ground below. Each creak of a branch sounded like thunder and Slade was sure that they would be discovered.

  After a couple minutes, they rested atop the roof of McDonald's building.  According to the blueprints, the cameras were located on the corners near the skylight. Slade guessed they had twenty meters before they had to worry about them. Kozel tapped his shoulder. As Slade turned, Kozel raised one finger to his lips, and pointed to the ground below them. A pair of McDonald's guards were on patrol. They remained motionless as the guards passed underneath them.

  Suddenly there was a scraping sound, and Slade realized that Kozel was slipping. Slade grabbed him quickly, and motioned for him to remain silent. Loose rock and snow tumbled to the ground below. The guards stopped, turning to see what had caused the sound. As the snow settled, a squirrel moved in the tree beside the building.

  "Damn animals. They carry disease wherever they go." One of the guards said as they turned to resume their patrol.

  The second guard turned, raising his pistol and fired three quick shots into the tree. There was a flurry of movement as birds, and squirrels alike fled the tree, no longer safe. As the guards rounded the corner at the end of our side of the building, Slade motioned to Kozel to start moving.  They moved into the tree, testing branches for weight before moving fully onto them. Birds chirped and tweeted, and squirrels chattered as their territory was invaded. Slade shimmied around the trunk of the tree, feeling the pine needles scratch his face as he did so.

  Kozel slipped once, but quickly grabbed a branch near his face as he fell, and slammed into the trunk below him, sending animals of all kinds fleeing the tree. Slade motioned for him to stay still as he looked for the guards, but they were around the other side of the building still.

  Slade reached down, grabbing Kozel's hand and hauling him up to where Slade was balanced on a thick branch.  They were less than two meters from the roof's edge. There was no turning back now. A quick glance at his chronometer indicated that Slade was running out of time – less than two hours left.

  They made the small jump from the tree to the roof, and flattened themselves against the rough red shingles to help keep them hidden from the guards on patrol below. Cautiously, they moved closer to the skylight. As they got closer, Kozel brushed a stone that was in his path across the roof. The camera closest to us swiveled, tracing the motion.

  "Oh crap!" Slade hissed. "Kozel, did you see that?"

  He nodded, and lobbed another small rock in the direction of a different camera. It swiveled like the first, following the motion of the rock. Slade certainly hadn't counted on motion-activated cameras. That was an upgrade installed since the blueprints. Kozel motioned Slade closer.

  "What if I distract them? Like run across the roof. If they're tracking me, they won't see you."

  "Might work, but you can only distract them for so long. I need a few minutes to get through that skylight."

  "What if we damage the camera?" Kozel suggested.

  "We'd probably have a dozen guards on the roof faster than we'd like." Slade said drily.

  Just then there was a scraping noise below, the sound of a window being opened. Slade hushed Kozel and told him to be still.

  "...think that they found out about the ship, do you?"

  It was McDonald's voice.

  "I think you're giving them too much credit. How could they find something they don't know they're looking for?"

  That was Herman for sure. Maybe they'd get their information after all. Slade moved closer to the edge of the roof. His boot scraped the shingles, and the closest camera swung toward him. They're sound activated too? Slade wondered. Kozel saw the camera began to move and tossed a handful of pebbles in the opposite direction, drawing the camera away from Slade.

  Slade inched closer and closer in the direction he had heard the voices coming from.  He reached the corner, and placed one hand on the eavestrough for support as he withdrew his Tablet to record the conversation below. Slade pushed the record button.

  "...and on top of that, I lost two people while the Emissary strutted his way around, poking his nose in our business where it doesn't belong."

  "Would you relax, Herman? The Emissary and his lap dog have no idea about your little smuggling operation. The fact that you're doing it for me means that I've given you complete immunity. He couldn't touch you if he wanted to - Letter or not."

  "I'd like to believe you, Lissa. I really would. But I can't go back to Australia. I spent three years maneuvering, plotting, and bribing everyone on that stinking island to get off of it.  I am not going back. Not to mention the fact that I now owe my supplier ten thousand Royals per death in compensation. We need to do something about
that, also."

  "You'll be compensated, I assure you. We are days away from opening the mine again, and then you and your supplier will reap the benefits of all the ore you need for whatever it is you're planning."

  "You had better be right."

  Slade was hoping for more, but at that moment, the eavestrough gave way under his weight and Slade suddenly found himself falling head first toward the ground. He frantically grabbed at another part of the eavestrough, but missed. As he fell, Slade saw a hand shoot over the roof's edge, and the strong hand of Kozel clamped around his wrist, halting his descent.

  Slade swung back and forth for a moment before he was able to find a foothold on a third-story window ledge. Satisfied that Slade was relatively safe, Kozel let go, and shimmied over the edge to join him.

  "So much for the skylight." He said.

  "I guess.  Maybe we should just walk in the front door after all." Slade shrugged.

  Kozel held Slade's Tablet out to him.

  "Were you able to get any of that conversation?"

  "Almost all of it."

  He smiled. "Then we can go?"

  "Unfortunately not." Slade looked at his chronometer. "I've got less than an hour to Deliver. We need to do this now. We can get McDonald after."

  "So we go down. Great."

  Using jutting bricks as hand and footholds, Slade and Kozel carefully descended from the third floor window to the ground level. There was a nice alcove for them to conceal themselves in, and they waited for the patrol to come by before they moved. Kozel and Slade matched the two guards, step for step, and Slade reached forward, wrapping one arm around the guard's forehead and the other around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. The guard struggled against him, but Slade's relative youth and training was no match for an old, overweight guard, and a minute later he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

  Kozel stood idly, lightly slapping a large branch against his left palm. He had a wicked grin on his face, and Slade could see the end of his makeshift cudgel was slightly red, no doubt from the impact with the guard's head.

  "You weren't supposed to kill him, Kozel."

  "Don't worry, he's not dead." He pointed at the man's chest, which rose and fell regularly. "See? He breathes."

  They dragged the limp bodies into the alcove, and proceeded around the building.  All the curtains on the windows were drawn, which helped conceal them, but also hid the activities of the inside to them also.  Around the back of the building, Slade spied a door halfway down the long wall.

  "Are we going in?" Kozel asked.

  "I don't want to crash the party, but I'm running out of time." A glance at his chronometer indicated that he had sixty-five minutes remaining. Kozel looked at the timer counting down and nodded, motioning toward the door.

  "You first," he said, grinning.

  A check of the handle quickly told him the door was locked, but Slade was in no mood to let a simple door stop him.  He pulled out his Tablet, aimed it at the door, and scanned for any signs of life on the other side. Slade received the all clear from his Tablet, and unsheathed his Boom Stick.

  "Stand back, Kozel."

  He quickly stood behind Slade, watching with eagerness. The general public didn't get to see a Boom Stick in action. Even someone in a government capacity didn't have this privilege often.

  Slade took aim at the door, set the Boom Stick to medium, and flung it forward, unleashing the charge at the door. The doors parted with the impact, sending small wood fragments exploding out toward them. Slade shielded himself with his arm, and Kozel did the same, and sparing them damage from the most dangerous of the damaging pieces. Sheathing the Boom Stick, Slade started toward the door when it was suddenly kicked open and four guards came rushing out at them.

  Slade immediately dropped into a defensive stance, hands up in front of him, prepared for the next move. The guards didn't waste any time, and he had no chance to see if Kozel was ready - or able - to hold his own. The closest two guards came at Slade together, flanking him and making sure he had no chance to escape.

  He feinted toward the one on his left, but used the momentum to propel himself to the right, bringing his right hand up, connecting with the guard's chin. Slade winced as bone met bone, but the guard staggered backwards enough for him to jump into the space the guard had just left, turning as he did so.

  With both of his guards off-balance, Slade took a second to check on Kozel. He was wielding his branch with deadly accuracy, and though the guards outweighed him by almost double, Slade could see cuts on both of their faces. It was this momentary distraction that allowed one of the guards closest to him to get a shot in, and Slade doubled over as a fist buried itself in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

  As Slade doubled over, the momentum of the guard's second his punch pushed him backward, and Slade lost his balance, falling to the ground. He needed to use this to his advantage, or he was in some really deep trouble.  Slade threw his arms up over his head, bending his hands backward, and kicked with his feet, turning his fall into a backward handspring.

  With his newfound momentum, Slade got in a lucky kick to the other guard's chest, driving him backward and away from the possibility of assisting his comrade. Completing his spin, Slade took full advantage of the surprise movement, and dropped into a crouch, swinging his right leg out into a sweeping kick that knocked the first guard to the ground.

  Slade followed up with a one-two punch to the stomach and chin that knocked the guard out cold. One down, three to go. The second guard came at him with fury in his eyes, arms ready to strike at any opening Slade allowed.  Slade drew into a defensive stance again, and unleashed his now recharged Boom Stick at the guard. He had no chance. He stood, immobilized, arms still up, and face still locked in that insane rage. 

  Slade secured the guard's hands with a zip tie, and pushed him gently to an awkward seated position. As Slade turned to find Kozel, he realized that Kozel was in trouble. One of the guards had tackled him to the ground, and was holding him while the other guard worked furiously to beat the living daylights out of him.

  Kozel's branch was just out of his reach, but Slade could see that he had wielded it effectively. Both guards were bleeding from angry wounds on their heads and, judging from their torn shirts and coats, Slade could see that Kozel had also struck a few times at their midsections.

  Slade dashed quickly to the branch, scooping it up in his left hand, and whirled to face the two guards, Boom Stick in one hand, and branch in the other. Both were equally deadly in his hands, and Slade could see the looks of worry begin to creep into the guard's faces.

  The closest guard to Slade stopped punching Kozel, and stood, moving toward him with a speed that was surprising for his size.  As he came close to Slade, the world began to slow down, until it seemed like Slade had full breaths between each of his steps.

  Waiting till he felt the guard's hands touch his arms, Slade sidestepped, and swung both Boom Stick and branch straight down to the ground. He could hear and feel the bones snap as both implements connected with the guard's outstretched hands.

  The guard let out a strangled cry of pain as his brain processed the injury, and Slade turned to the left, kicking with his right foot at the guard's ribs. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby tree, and then to the ground. Slade was in a frenzy, and he twisted around, finding the other guard under attack by Kozel. Reaching them in a second, Slade flung Kozel aside, intent on taking out the last remaining enemy.

  Kozel hit the ground, breaking his fall with his hand, and stared open-mouthed as Slade closed in on the guard. He sheathed his Boom Stick, and took the branch in a two handed grip. Slade swung once, and as the guard jumped backward, Slade leaped toward him, changing to an overhand swing. He didn't stand a chance.

  Slade's feet touched the ground as the branch connected with the top of the guard's head. The impact and extra force of his landing drove the branch into his head and the guard's knees buckled beneath him. Blood
streamed from the open wound on his head. He was done. But it wasn't enough. Slade swung again and again, connecting with head, chest and shoulders, determined to remove the enemy.

  Blood began to spray from the now dead body as over and over Slade swung. Kozel approached him, and through his rage, Slade could hear his title. Stopped, but still enthralled by the rage, he watched as Kozel moved to him, hands out submissively. It took almost a full minute before Slade registered that he was not a threat. He dropped his stick to the ground and surveyed the scene.

  Four guards lay dead or unconscious on the ground. Kozel was covered in blood, and so was Slade, though the blood that covered him was not his own. Slade was breathing heavily, and his hands were clenched into fists so tightly that the knuckles were albino white.

  "Kozel," Slade gasped between two huge intakes of breath. "Are you going to be okay?"

  "I think so, Emissary. I'll need some stitches, and some medicine, but I should be good. We should get cleaned up if we're going to see McDonald."

  "Good idea."

  Slade grabbed his Tablet from the pocket of his coat, not really amazed that it survived the fight. These things are indestructible! He quickly called up a map of McDonald's office, and found that there was a washroom less than one hundred meters from their current position. They hurried inside, not bothering to tend to the dead outside. There would be time later for that.

  Finding the washroom was doubly fortuitous - it doubled as the guard's dressing room. There were ample uniforms for them to change into, and minutes later, they exited the washroom with their wounds tended half-heartedly, but dressed in the finery of McDonald's guards.

  They walked the halls with purpose, heading straight for McDonald's office, nodding to other guards as they passed. Less than five minutes later, they stood outside the ornate door that led into the office of the Principal of Ukraine Territory.

  "Do we knock?" Kozel asked.

  "I think we should, but I'm not waiting for an answer."

  Slade raised his hand to knock, and his chronometer let out a loud chirp. He quickly looked. Twenty minutes remaining. It was time.  Slade knocked and then turned the knob on the door, pushing as he moved into the room. It was locked, and he crashed into the door, unable to stop his momentum.

  "What the...?" Kozel began.

  Frustrated, Slade took one step backward and reared back, kicking the door next to the handle. It flung inward, and he was rewarded with a glimpse of the surprised faces of McDonald and Herman as Kozel followed him into the room. McDonald jumped up from her seat, sending folders and Tablets skittering across her desk.

  "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.

  "Principal McDonald," Slade said. "I am here to place Randy Emery Herman under arrest for the trafficking of individuals from other territories to support your population deficiency."

  "Preposterous!" Herman said, rising from his chair. "You can't arrest me! I have diplomatic immunity from anything you think you can do to me."

  "On the contrary, Mr. Herman. Not only do I think I can arrest you, I have evidence that implicates you and Principal McDonald in the operation."

  Kozel stepped up beside me brandishing the business end of a pool cue. Where had he found THAT?

  "Do you refute the charges, Mr. Herman?" Kozel asked.

  "Certainly I do! I was coerced into helping Principal McDonald. She threatened my family!"

  "I did what?" She sputtered, voice rising as she tried to grasp what Herman was saying.

  "You know you did, Principal. Don't try and deny it now." He turned to face McDonald, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction.

  Slade moved a step closer toward Herman. Something didn't feel right about this. The conversation he had heard earlier indicated Herman had a more than senior role in this operation. Slade reached for his Boom Stick, ready for anything.

  Herman turned as if to offer more proof, but his left hand came up from the desk quickly, launching a small clay urn at Slade. He quickly ducked out of the way as Kozel brought the pool cue down with lightning fast reflexes, smashing the urn. A huge cloud of ashes accompanied the destruction of the urn, and as his vision was quickly blocked, Slade caught a glimpse of Herman in motion toward the desk.

  Herman crashed through the window.  Slade charged over McDonald's desk, and dove head first out of the window after him. He landed on the grass and rolled to his feet.  Seeing Herman only a few steps ahead of him, Slade took off into a run, taking his Boom Stick out of its sheath as he ran. Slade was vaguely aware of Kozel coming through the window behind him.

  Herman reached the gate, and turned a sharp left, using the gate for balance. Slade angled toward where Herman was heading, and vaulted over the wall, using speed and his acrobatics download to propel him higher up the wall than the average human. As he cleared the top of the wall, Slade could see Herman had gained a bit of a lead on him, and was heading toward the center of town.

  Slade landed on the grass on the other side of the wall, and broke into a fast run. To his right, Kozel was just clearing the gate, waving him on, and Slade decided to let Kozel catch up on his own. He reached forward with the Boom Stick, unleashing its power at Herman, but missed as he rounded the next corner to his right. The charge slammed into the building, dislodging brick and mortar in a large grey cloud.

  "Crap!" Slade shouted to himself as he rounded the same corner that Herman had disappeared around moments before.  He sheathed his Boom Stick, pumping his arms in an effort to gain on Herman. Ahead, Herman was running across a bridge. The bridge had a grade to it, and Slade was making up ground quickly.

  "Randy...Emery...Herman!" Slade shouted between breaths. "Stop!"

  Herman turned to look and ran into a couple on a stroll. They were both knocked to the ground, and started cursing at Herman, who was still running full tilt. But he was now only five steps ahead of Slade. He had him!

  "Stop!" Slade shouted again.

  Herman turned to look again, and, seeing how close Slade was to him, jumped to the top of the railing of the bridge. He stole another quick look at Slade, and then leapt off the bridge. Slade was dumbfounded. As he crashed into the railing, Slade saw Herman running away from the bridge along a path by the river. There was no way Slade could make that jump without getting hurt. Herman obviously had mods.

  Slade looked to the other side of the bridge – looking for a way down – stairs, a ramp, or even a ladder. There was none. He was not letting him get away. Slade had worked too hard to get to this point, and he wasn't going to let some modded human outrun him. Slade looked up as a flash of light caught his eye, and smiled as he saw a refuse carrier coming toward him at a fast clip.  If Herman could jump, so could he.  As the carrier neared the bridge, Slade took off at a dead run toward the other side of the bridge, and jumped the railing hoping to hit the collection bin.

  Mid-jump, Slade looked down, and realized he wasn't going to hit the carrier where he wanted. Slade had miscalculated the carrier's speed, and was rapidly falling short. He leaned forward, stretching toward the truck.  He felt metal under his fingers, and closed his hands on the edge of the collection bin. Gravity took hold, and his body slammed into the corrugated side of the bin. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and Slade struggled to catch his breath while still holding onto the carrier.

  Slade painfully edged to the corner of the bin, and saw Herman rounding another corner. Doesn't this guy ever give up? He thought.  Slade let go of the bin, tucking into a roll, and once again the wind was knocked out of him as Slade met the asphalt. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline keeping him going. He took off in the direction that Herman had fled, and rounded the corner.  Slade caught a glimpse of him ahead, and leaned into his run, pumping his arms and legs as fast as they would go.

  "Herman!" Slade screamed into the night ahead of him. "Stop!"

  His breath was coming in ragged gasps, but Slade couldn't slow down. Suddenly, there was a chirp from his chronometer, and Slade stole a
quick glance. The readout was red, and indicated he had only ten minutes to Deliver to Herman. Herman had about two hundred meters on him, and Slade was rapidly losing this race.

  Slade hopped onto the back of another passing refuse carrier, struggling to find purchase on the smooth corners of the collection bin. He finally managed to find a small chink in the bin, and wedged his right hand into it, wincing as the jagged edge bit into the palm of his hand. The carrier sped closer to Herman, and Slade leaned his head around the corner of the bin, hoping to see his exact whereabouts. He was on a direct course for the carrier Slade was on, and it appeared that Herman hadn't noticed him yet.

  Slade hopped off the carrier, legs already in motion as he sped toward Herman. With the carrier now out of the way, Slade was easily visible, and Herman cut right into the park, ducking into a copse of oaks and maples that lined the street. His speed astounded Slade. Left and right he dodged, weaving around trees with ease as Slade tried to keep pace with him.

  Slade's chronometer beeped again, harsher this time, and another quick glance told him he had less than five minutes. Herman made a sharp turn up a walkway, and crashed through the gate, heading into the yard beyond.

  Having no choice, Slade followed, struggling to breathe, but unwilling to give up the chase. He sped blindly into the yard after Herman, and suddenly found he had no purchase on the ground below him. He was slipping, his body falling backwards as his momentum carried his feet and legs ever forward.

  Slade braced for the impact, and felt his left wrist twist the wrong way as his hand rolled on the loose debris covering the ground. He let out a scream of pain as the rest of his body hit the ground and for the third time that night felt the air knocked out of him. Slade tried to scramble to his feet, but the ground kept shifting under him, changing with every attempt at secure footing. He put his hand down for balance, and realized that there were small glass beads on the ground. Herman must have knocked something over in his passage to slow him down. It was working.

  He brushed a small patch clean in front of him, and stepped quickly into it, launching himself in the direction he had last seen Herman.

  "Delivery imminent. Three minutes." His chronometer informed him with a loud klaxon alarm.

  "Great." Slade muttered to himself, then felt a burst of adrenaline as he saw Herman running across an open yard only fifty-five meters ahead of him.

  Slade unsheathed his Boom Stick as he found a last reserve of energy, and took aim. Pressing the trigger, he watched the bolt of pure energy shoot across the air between them.  It hit Herman in the lower back, and he was flung to the ground. Yes!

  There was no slowing down. Slade had moments to get to Herman before time ran out. A harsh alarm from Slade's chronometer told Slade he had less than two minutes. He finally reached Herman, rolled him over, and withdrew the Tablet from his coat.

  "Randy...Emery...Herman," Slade said struggling to catch his breath. "You have been served."

  Slade rolled Herman over, placing the Tablet in his immobilized hands. The second the Tablet recognized his fingerprints, the Delivery was registered, and Slade put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He had cut it close before, but not this close. He usually had five minutes remaining. He watched as the laser verified his retinal identity, and Slade heard the chirp of his chronometer as it stopped counting down. He looked down at his chronometer to see how close he had cut it.

  Plus Sixteen Seconds.

  What the heck?

 
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