Zero Sum Page 6

  “And I’d rather survive with you.” Stella froze. Did I say that?

  “We’re quite a pair, Stella. We didn’t die last year, but we just might this time.”

  The thought of it saddened Stella.

  “Stella?”

  She looked up.

  Cayson had that look of intensity that Stella had seen when he was deep at work on solving a problem.

  “If anything happens to me, I want you to know that I’ve wanted to have coffee with you last year but didn’t have the guts to ask.”

  Stella opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Cayson suddenly fell over and wailed as his hands clutched his head.

  Above them, Stella saw the drone coming.

  It had found Cayson.

  It looked unarmed, but that wasn’t its purpose, was it?

  Stella left Cayson rolling on the ground by the riverbank. She dashed behind a tree and checked her Glock. She figured she could take out the drone if it came closer.

  Fifteen feet.

  Cayson was writhing in pain, rolling in the muddy bank.

  Stella could not bear it.

  Please, Lord, help him!

  She held her Glock in her two hands, like any normal day at the practice range. She hadn’t missed in the last five years, and she wasn’t about to now.

  The drone swooped down.

  Stella aimed and fired.

  Eighteen

  “We’ll eat later,” Cayson said. He still felt a numbing headache from the last attack. The weight of the backpack slowed him down, but they had to press on before nightfall.

  “We’ve just been attacked.” Stella seemed to be keeping up with him. Her backpack was heavier now with the remains of the destroyed drone stuffed into it.

  “Let’s rest a bit,” she said.

  “On the contrary, because we’ve been attacked, we need to keep moving.” Cayson tried to ignore his headache. “They know we’re here now, and they will send another drone. This time we may not be able to shoot it down just like that.”

  Icarus had probably gone to sleep, as Cayson hadn’t heard from it in the last couple of hours they had been on this hiking trail.

  “But to where? Where are we going?” Stella asked. “You didn’t tell me.”

  She was right. Cayson hadn’t said anything. Should he now?

  “There’s a hunting cabin up ahead on this trail,” he said. “We can rest there for the night and have dinner.”

  “A cabin. Good idea. We can keep the bears out at night.”

  “There’s no bed frame in the cabin. It’s just pine flooring.”

  “We have sleeping bags. Glad you went shopping.”

  Cayson nodded.

  Ping!

  This time, Icarus was speaking gibberish. There was no language in there, only jumbled noises and an occasional snort.

  “Icarus, reboot.” Cayson didn’t know what else to say, really.

  In under a minute, Cayson heard from Icarus again.

  Icarus system rebooted.

  “Good.” Cayson chuckled. “Icarus, my personal butler.”

  I am not butter.

  “Poor thing. I think Icarus is broken.”

  I am not bokeh.

  They reached the top of a small clearing, where a bench told them that this was not an isolated hiking trail. However, the path was getting narrower and less visible. In some places, the trail disappeared altogether.

  Up ahead, Cayson saw more signs.

  Private Land.

  Keep out.

  The temperature had begun to drop slightly toward the cool of the evening. It was still September. The leaves had not changed colors. Yet.

  The rustlings of leaves made Cayson turn. “Look, Stella, a squirrel.”

  On ordinary days, this would have been a common sighting. But Cayson had gone through a lot.

  His free will had been violated by cybernetic implants.

  His company had lost so many employees that he had no idea if they could ever be a company again.

  And Stella.

  When he had first met her the year before, they had talked some. That had been all.

  Now he found her fascinating.

  He checked to see what she was doing.

  She looked a bit tired.

  “Want to swap backpacks?” Cayson asked.

  “No need. We don’t want your headache to return.”

  “It won’t.”

  “No guarantees.”

  “There are no guarantees in life.”

  Stella nodded. “No. Did you know that we lost another agent last week? He was following an FSB lead. Left behind a wife with MS and four kids. How sad is that?”

  “Speaking of wife and kids, have you ever thought of…maybe someday settling down?”

  “When I was studying cryptology in the Naval Academy, I had no idea I’d be an FBI agent. So I suppose anything can happen.” Stella stopped to catch her breath. “I suppose the best thing to pray about is for God’s perfect will to be done.”

  “When I did computer science in college, I didn’t know I’d turn into a cyborg.”

  A cyborg.

  A cybernetic organism.

  “Maybe when this episode is over, DARPA can figure out how to remove Icarus from your head.”

  “More experiments. I’m afraid I’m damaged goods.”

  “Only your brain.” Stella laughed so hard it echoed all around. She cupped her mouth with her hands to stifle her laughter.

  “I see it’s an inside joke.” Cayson put on a frown. “You’re the only one laughing.”

  “Be serious.” Stella cleared her throat. “Don’t forget that once we shut down MedusaNet, to which Icarus is tied, then you’ll be free.”

  “You think?”

  They came across a cliff with trees and a small view of the distant mountains.

  “Nothing like Trolltunga.” Cayson pointed to the distant setting sun.

  “Is the cabin far from here? We need to conserve our flashlight batteries.”

  “Stella?”

  “Yes?” Stella was standing on the trail, watching Cayson stand close to the edge. “Maybe you shouldn’t stand that close.”

  Cayson smiled. “You’re worried about me.”

  “No. Just concerned.”

  “Come here.”

  “What for?”

  “Come see the sunset with me.”

  Stella didn’t move. “I’m sweaty, sticky, and I don’t want to stand next to you right now.”

  “Come here anyway.”

  Stella ignored him and started walking.

  Cayson had no choice but to follow her. “Cabin’s maybe fifty feet away. There’s a well behind it, and we might be able to get some water to boil.”

  “Boil with what?” Stella asked.

  “I bought a single-burner camp stove, a cooking pot, and a frying pan.” He patted his backpack.

  “What’s in mine?”

  “Sleeping bags, shower kit, water purifier, and some other stuff.”

  “Well prepared, are we?”

  “Walmart has everything. I just went to the camping aisle and packed up.”

  “With my money.” Stella chuckled.

  “Technically, we’re at work. Operating expenses.”

  Cayson saw part of the cabin. “There it is!”

  He doubled his pacing and Stella followed, but before they reached it, Cayson stopped and put his arm in front of her.

  The windows reflected flickers of candlelight inside the log cabin.

  There was laughter. There was conversation.

  The cabin was occupied.

  Nineteen

  “Shall we knock on the door?” Stella asked.

  To her, Cayson looked distressed. He had brought her here to this secluded cabin so they could regroup and plan their next move. It was too late to continue hiking toward Old MacDonald’s farm. They’d have to wait until morning.

  And someone else was in it.

  “I’m blanking
out,” Cayson said. “I only remember that several of us were allowed to use it any time. Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s unoccupied.”

  “So we knock on the door and get some info. Want me to do it?”

  “Give me a minute to think.” Cayson retreated to the base of a tulip tree. He sat on a protruding root.

  The front door swung open.

  The business end of what looked like a Weatherby Vanguard Series 2 pointed in Stella’s direction.

  “Looking for someone?” the bearded man holding the rifle asked.

  Stella put her palms up in front of him. “I’m Stella, and this is Cayson. We were told we could use the cabin anytime.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. We live here.”

  “How long have you been here?” Cayson asked, still sitting under the tree.

  “Six or seven years.”

  “That long.” Cayson’s voice deflated.

  Stella turned to Cayson. “Maybe we came to the wrong cabin.”

  “Could be. They build them all alike,” Mr. Weatherby said.

  “May I stand up?” Cayson asked. “I’m not armed.”

  Mr. Weatherby nodded slightly.

  Cayson inched forward. “I’m looking for Old MacDonald.”

  “We don’t know anyone by that name.” Mr. Weatherby still had not lowered his Weatherby. That wasn’t very friendly of him.

  “Is there a campsite around here where we can stay the night?” Stella prayed for the right words to say. “As you can see, the sun has set, and Cayson and I are stuck this deep in the woods.”

  “There’s a stream two miles from here. A picnic area with some clearings you can pitch your tent.”

  “Thank you,” Stella said. “May I have your name?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll keep calling you Mr. Weatherby.”

  A twinkle appeared in the man’s eye. “You have a Weatherby?”

  “No, but my dad does. He hunts for elk sometimes.”

  “Elk. Someday. You go with him?”

  “No. I don’t hunt for animals.” Stella smiled.

  “She hunts for people,” Cayson said. “Oops.”

  Mr. Weatherby’s eyes steeled. “What kind of people do you hunt?”

  Stella glanced at Cayson. You put your foot in your mouth. You deal with this.

  Cayson cleared his throat. “She hunts for the same people Old MacDonald does. We need his help to stop some terrorists.”

  “Ah, terrorists. To some, they might be freedom fighters.”

  “Well, it does depend on whom they terrorize, but if you must know, at this time they’re terrorizing the United States. Since you live here, you’re going to be affected.”

  He didn’t move. “It still doesn’t explain why you’re here, ten miles into the forest.”

  “Wow. We’re ten miles in?” Cayson seemed genuinely surprised. “I guess since we had to run, we probably covered a lot of ground.”

  “Run?” Mr. Weatherby asked. “Why are you running if you’re the hunters?”

  “Because there’s a mole in our organization,” Stella said. “Three people have died. Cayson is next. We can’t find one more.”

  “So you’re going off the beaten path to find the solution.”

  “Exactly, Mr. Weatherby.”

  “Bob.”

  “Thank you, Bob,” Stella said. “We’d better go if we want to find that picnic area in the daylight so we can pitch our tent.”

  “Oh… About that…” Cayson looked at Stella sheepishly.

  “What?”

  “I only bought what I thought we needed. I was sure we’d be in a cabin, so I did not buy a tent.”

  “What if it rains?” Stella asked.

  “It’s not going to rain,” Bob, a.k.a. Mr. Weatherby, said. “The forecast said it’ll be cool tonight. Start yourself a campfire, and you’ll be fine.”

  And of course, two hours later, it rained over the picnic area where Stella and Cayson spread their sleeping bags, each person taking one side of the campfire that Bob had helped them to build.

  The rain soaked through their sleeping bags, stirred up the riverside mud, and extinguished their campfire.

  Armed with Stella’s flashlight, the two of them trekked up the hiking trail back to Bob’s house to ask if they could sleep on his porch.

  When they arrived, the door was ajar.

  And everyone inside was dead.

  Twenty

  Stumbling on the uneven forest floor, Stella and Cayson ran for their lives away from the log cabin house of horrors, their screams still lodged in their throats.

  In the dark, moonless night, rain kept falling, and rainwater ran down the mountain slope in torrents. Stella kept losing her footing, as her boots wanted to go with the flow of the runoffs. Cayson gripped her hand as they continued running to who knew where.

  Approaching an incline, they both slid down the muddy trails, never letting go of each other’s hand, lest they lose the other in the pitch-black night, too dark to be seen without a flashlight.

  Back at the cabin, when Stella had seen the butchery, she had never screamed louder. As the two of them scrambled out the door, Stella lost her flashlight. She thought she saw something fly into the bushes, but she could not tell what was there.

  There was no way she was going to dive into the unknown bushes—which might include poison ivy—at this late hour to search and recover the flashlight.

  They’d have to do without.

  No loss compared to what happened to Bob’s family.

  Slaughtered like livestock, Bob, his wife, and their three children hadn’t stood a chance.

  The killing was too brutal, too precise, too planned.

  Planned.

  Programmed?

  Who could have done such an inhumane thing?

  Twenty-One

  “Do you think they’ll come back for us?” Cayson asked as they slowed down to catch their breath.

  Nobody seemed to be following them. They needn’t have run amuck.

  Could they go back to their picnic site? They had left their backpacks and sleeping bags there.

  Flashes of lightning gave them light and showed them how far they could go. To be sure, they had stayed on the hiking trail so that even if they couldn’t find their way, they wouldn’t be completely lost in the woods.

  A series of thunder and lightning later, Cayson could hear sizzling crackles of nearby trees getting hit by lightning.

  The electrical storm continued as Stella and Cayson went up and down the hiking trail. The noisy rain, peppered by occasional thunder and lightning—

  What’s that buzzing noise?

  Cayson glanced back, but it was impossible to see into the darkness.

  He felt a strong tug as Stella tripped, pulling his arm with her. They tumbled down the winding trail. Unable to get up due to the muddy water, they slipped and fell again.

  They stopped laughing when a bright flash of lightning covered the area, showing tall trees on both sides of them, and ahead, a V formation of drones hovering in the air, with little turrets pointing in their direction.

  “Uh-oh. Stella?”

  “Run!”

  Cayson’s heart rapped against his chest wall as he tried to remain calm for both of them. He and Stella had held on to each other for support to prevent themselves from falling badly on the muddy hiking trail and breaking bones.

  He ran forward in his rain-soaked brand-new hiking boots, keeping pace with Stella. Without a flashlight, they had to rely on instincts and bolts of lightning to provide light so that they could see their way through the mountainside, where cliffs were everywhere.

  Whenever lightning flashed, they glanced back to find the drones still chasing them down.

  In this awfully dark night, there was no telling how far the muddy water could take them down slippery slopes.

  Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire surrounded them.

  Stella pulled him down to the ground.

&nbs
p; Lord Jesus, we’re going to die!

  Well, they didn’t die.

  Thank You, Jesus!

  Cayson and Stella found themselves surrounded and delivered from the kill zone by none other than Robin Hood and his merry men—and women—who had appeared out of nowhere and had gone skeet shooting on those killer drones.

  It turned out the stranger’s name wasn’t Robin Hood. It was Tyrone.

  His guerrilla band had night vision. That had also been how they’d found Cayson and Stella crouched behind either a sweet gum or tulip tree—Cayson couldn’t tell which one it had been in the messy night.

  It was still night when their rescuers took them through the forest to an enclave.

  Cayson hadn’t seen Stella since they arrived at this community. She had cuts and bruises all over and particularly nasty gashes on her forehead and arms when she had slipped and fallen after they’d left Bob’s house.

  Bob. That had turned out to be his real name.

  “Stay away from the whole area until we’ve assessed the situation,” Tyrone said. “We have many unanswered questions. But for now, get some sleep. You’ll be in my cabin. My son is about your height. His clothes should fit you.”

  “Stella?” Cayson asked.

  “She’s going to stay with Alicia, just a few cabins down. Alicia is our nurse practitioner, so she’s in good hands.”

  “I don’t want us to be apart.” There, he said it.

  “Are you two married?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll see her in the morning, bright and early. That’s in four or five hours. Soon enough for you?”

  What could he do? These people were armed.

  Cayson nodded.

  Stella could take care of herself.

  As Cayson followed Tyrone to his log cabin, he wondered how the drones had found them.

  Icarus.

  “The drones could come back,” Cayson said. “They now know where to find Stella and me. Your entire village is at risk.”

  “We’re not a village. Only a community.” Tyrone unlocked his front door. “We’ll deal with the drones in the morning.”

  “What if they come back tonight? Before dawn or something?”

  “Obviously night comes before dawn.” Tyrone almost laughed at Cayson.