KEN
She lies limply in the seat where I stowed her. I’m not entirely sure she’s conscious, or if she knows what’s going on. Her slim frame is clad in the long white scrubs, and I can’t see what condition she’s in. As soon as we stop, I’ll have to inspect her thoroughly. They didn’t have any tubes going into or out of her, not like some of their bedridden patients who were basically pale plastic porcupines, but that doesn’t mean she’s okay.
Her first words to me are ones laced with revenge.
“Thank you for killing them.”
“You’re welcome.”
I glance into the rear view mirror, both to look at her and at the traffic behind us. You can’t walk into a Schutzenarbeit Laboratory, take a subject and ride off into the sunset. Pure brazen arrogance just worked, but it won’t work again, and they won’t let her go easily. They’ve put work into this girl. They’re going to want her back.
Sure enough, within ten minutes SUVs emerge from the flow of traffic. Heavy vehicles. They’re scrambling a response. Late, but they’re coming. They love the color white, so the vehicles stand out like sore thumbs.
I don’t have the backup I need out here. This girl isn’t high value enough to attract a dozen man unit. Her family can’t afford to pay more than one man, and the truth is, they can barely afford to pay me.
We’re going to have to fall back to my secondary position. I turn the car off the main road and head down a side street. They likely think I just walked in this morning, but I’ve been here for a month, setting up my options and my escapes.
As we speed past a corner, an old woman pushes a barrow full of melons across the road. The melons go flying as the car behind us smashes through them, sending red flesh soaring into the sky.
I met with her yesterday, knowing I’d need an escape route and several distractions if things went wrong. She has five hundred American dollars tucked away somewhere, more than enough to replace the melons.
It’s slowed them down just enough to allow me to skid around a left hand corner and put the car into a garage. Five people come running to pull metal gates shut behind us, and 0.2 seconds later, the convoy comes rushing past outside.
We’re safe. For now. But we have to move.
The people who just helped us get away will get to keep the car. I take my supply pack out of the passenger seat, sling it on my back, then go around the car and pull Mary out. She’s pale and I don’t know how aware she is of what’s going on. Hopefully not too much. This is a shit show.
It’s one thing to get the girl out of the hospital. It’s something completely different to get her out of the country in one piece. They’ll kill us both before they let the evidence of their experimental program get loose.
“I’m going to pick you up again,” I say, warning her. I don’t want to startle her. And I want her to know she’s safe with me, that she’s been rescued, not just snatched away.
She mumbles softly. I slide my arms beneath her back and knees and pull her out of the car. The locals have prepared a room for us, but it’s a bit of a walk to get to it. We head down a flight of stairs which open from a hatch in the floor, and I carry her through a dark underground passage - a smuggler’s tunnel.
Crime is rife in this part of the world, but heroin dealers are nothing compared to the people we just escaped from. The shaft leads underneath several city blocks, and is remarkably well developed, with ventilation running up through tiny passages and cracks to little spaces in various houses, along with chutes for dropping packages. This city is a place of snakes and ladders, and fortunately, plenty of hiding places for people who need to escape.
US dollars go a long way here, so I’ve been able to set aside my own little piece of subterranean heaven for us. A flimsy wooden wall with a padlocked door awaits us. The lock matches one of several keys I have on a ring. Each one of them is specific to this operation.
I juggle Mary and the lock, then swing the door open and carry her into the little shanty. It’s not as bad as I expected it to be. They really rolled out the red carpet for us down here. There’s a toilet with a small partition, and a bench with a sink attached. We’ve got water. I’m actually impressed.
There’s even a little bed, an old mattress covered with a blanket that looks maybe halfway new. I settle her down on the bed, and start the little stove in the corner.
She lies quietly on the bed, so quietly I lean over and take her pulse. It’s steady, but it’s not the strongest. She could go into shock now and die, just from pure fucking relief at being rescued. Sometimes, people wait until they’re safe to pass away.
It’s somewhat similar to dealing with a starving person. Giving them one big meal can be fatal. You have to re-feed them just a little at a time. Get their bodies used to processing nutrition again.
She needs to take things slowly. She needs to be kept quiet. She needs time to recuperate - but we really don’t have much in the way of quiet or time at our disposal. We can stop a few hours at most, but we’re going to need to get moving soon.
“Mary?”
Her eyes flutter open. I can see some of the wounds they’ve inflicted on her body, but there are even more of them on her soul, written in her eyes. She flinches and looks around.
“Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe.” It’s a lie, but a lie she needs to hear. We’re still in the heart of their territory and if they find us… even the thought makes me grit my teeth. I’ve been radioing for backup, calling in favors, but it takes time to get people into the area - and an influx of special ops mercenaries is something they’re going to be looking for now.
She’s weak. The micro-tremors in her fingers worry me. She’s lost weight in captivity. I’d put her at about a hundred pounds tops, too small for a woman her height. She needs nutrition and she needs it regularly.
“Drink this.”
It’s a protein powder in water. It tastes like a sweaty jock strap left in the back of a locker and fermented for a few months, but it’s good stuff and she needs it.
She doesn’t even grimace as it touches her tongue, so I know she’s been starving.
“Good girl,” I murmur as she drains it to the very last drop.
“I’m not a good girl,” she replies, her voice weak. I almost see a speck of mischief in her eyes, and for a brief moment I can imagine this young woman as she would be in her prime. Full of life, and full of trouble, no doubt.
“How did you end up in there, Mary?”
She shakes her and shrugs. “Bad luck.”
I had hoped she would be more forthcoming than the contact who funneled this assignment to my unit. Mercenary life is full of questions. So is the military, really. I’ve spent my adult life following orders, rescuing people I’m told to rescue, killing others I’ve been told to kill. It would be nice to know why I just murdered ten German-speaking scientists in a facility that technically doesn’t exist.
“You can tell me.”
“No, I can’t,” she says. Her eyes catch mine. “You know I can’t.”
I could make her tell me. Easily. But I’m not going to. She’s been through enough.
“They were experimenting on you,” I say, probing a little more.
“Yeah.”
“Why? Something special about you?”
She shakes her head. “It’s what they do.”
“What are they trying to learn?”
“Everything.”
She’s being vague, but specific enough for me to fill in the blanks. These people are the kind to be curious for curiosity’s sake. They’re the grown up versions of the kids who pulled wings off flies. Except now the flies are human, and now their techniques are far more refined.
“Did they do serious harm to you?”
She turns her eyes away from mine and closes her mouth. My question wasn’t specific enough. Of course they did serious harm.
“Do you need treatment? Want to see a doctor?”
“Fuck no.” She shakes her head. “I’ll die before I see another doctor in this lifetime.”
“Alpha Protector, do you read me?”
A voice comes over my comms. Thank god.
“Reading you loud and clear,” I respond.
“Helicopter is two clicks out. Have her ready for transport. We’re getting in and getting out.”
“Who is that?” Her eyes flick toward the sound.
“That, my dear, is the cavalry.”
Mission accomplished.