Chapter Two

ONE YEAR LATER

Rachel Halliday paced impatiently in front of the large windows of the airport. As she watched the plane pull up to the terminal, she nervously started chewing on her thumbnail. She had been thrilled to move up from her local news station, and becoming a reporter with World Community News had felt like a dream come true. Everything was perfect until she discovered that her first assignment would involve cyborgs.

Like most people, she had been fascinated by Cyborg Sector. The idea of semi-mechanical men serving in the military got everyone excited. They were going to take down the enemies of the country once and for all. Men and women in the armed forces would have to take fewer risks now that bionically enhanced soldiers could step up to the front line for them.

That was the theory, anyway. In practice, the cyborgs were terrifying. They looked like humans on the outside, but there was a haunting quality in their eyes that made Rachel think they were waiting to explode. There were plenty of rumors about cyborgs who didn’t listen to their instructions or thought independently. The last thing Rachel wanted to do was run into thinking, emotionless killing machines.

Being a correspondent for a two-bit channel meant the only action she’d seen was at a local elementary school with a new playground. Rachel had put together a few stories about Cyborg Sector for her small-town station, but doing third-party reporting on cyborgs was quite different from going out into the field and seeing cyborgs in person.

She was not looking forward to the first day of her new job.

Several other reporters waited behind her, casually draping themselves across uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area of the airport terminal. They looked bored as they mindlessly touched their smartphone screens or stared with glassy eyes at television monitors. Traveling by plane had become so commonplace for them that they were no longer fascinated by the great metal beast slowly moving into position on the other side of the glass.

An overweight man in cargo shorts and a stained t-shirt came rushing through the airport toward their waiting area. Beads of sweat ran down his face, ending up in his large, shaggy beard. He carried a heavy camera case on his shoulder, which he gladly dumped on a chair when he reached them. The man looked around at the other people uncertainly, but they ignored him. His eyes landed on Rachel, the only one paying any attention to him. “Are you Miss Halliday?” he asked between gasping breaths.

Rachel nodded. “That’s me. I don’t know who you are, though.”

The newcomer held out a sweaty hand. “I’m Donnie, your cameraman. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was terrible.”

Rachel tried not to let her distaste show on her face. Having little choice, she reluctantly reached out to shake Donnie’s hand. She imagined that the sweat from his palm penetrated her body as he limply wrapped wet fingers around her hand. Would he even be able to hold the camera after a hike through the desert? It wasn’t like she could request a new cameraman. Rachel was new to the job and didn’t have any clout.

“You didn’t miss anything,” she mumbled. “The plane’s just pulling up to the runway.” She gestured toward the window before turning so she could peer through it. Rachel was eager for an excuse to stop talking to Donnie. It made her miss the camera operators she had known at her old station. They were nobodies who hadn’t won any awards or nominations, but they were her friends once. One day she might feel the same way about Donnie, but that day was years in the future. There were many awkward and uncomfortable moments waiting between now and then.

The private flight had been commissioned specifically for them, and the airplane was only a small turboprop. Scientists from Cyborg Sector were already on board and had flown straight from Washington to pick up a select group of reporters. Apparently, Rachel wasn’t the only one reluctant to go on this assignment. All the reporters had blank looks on their faces when the boarding announcement played over the speakers.

Rachel tried not to think about the feeling of dread in her stomach as she headed down the jetway. She’d only flown a handful of times and everything about it made her nervous. The notion of being strapped to a metal rocket flying horizontally through the air was unappealing. Her anxiety increased when she could see the outside of the plane where the ramp stairs pressed against it, allowing passengers to board. Her fear was irrational, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Personnel from Cyborg Sector packed the front of the aircraft. Ten men and women were already onboard. They glanced momentarily at the reporters as they entered and filed to the back of the plane. The Cyborg Sector staff varied in age and appearance. Rachel noticed one handsome man scanning each reporter as they walked through the aisle. His green eyes locked onto her for a moment before sweeping down her body and moving on to the person behind her.

Pointedly ignoring her cameraman, who had seated himself directly behind the scientists, Rachel shoved her small bag into the overhead compartment and settled into a seat by the window. She nervously tossed her curly brown hair over her shoulder. Even though it only reached down to her back, it felt long and cumbersome today. Another reporter sat down next to her, folding herself gracefully into the seat and fastening the belt around herself. She cast a disgusted look in Rachel’s direction. “You don’t get airsick, do you? You look a little green.”

“I’m all right,” Rachel lied. She might not have thrown up on a plane before, but she hadn’t flown much either. “What network are you with?”

The woman scrunched her eyebrows and looked at Rachel as though she had just crawled out from a cave. “I’m Samantha Houston, from First American News.”

Rachel looked again at the perfect blonde hair, blue eyes, and smooth skin of the woman next to her. Of course, she knew who she was. Rachel had seen the woman on television hundreds of times. She hoped to be as successful as Samantha one day. Rachel was thrilled to have her as a companion.

But Samantha Houston didn’t look impressed with the person sitting next to her at all. The seasoned reporter pulled Rachel’s airsick bag out of the seat pocket in front of her and set it on the girl’s lap. “You might want to keep this handy.” Samantha turned on her tablet computer and placed tiny earbuds in her ears, shutting out the world around her.

Rachel leaned her head against the window dejectedly, watching as the world slowly passed by. The plane picked up speed as they headed down the runway, and her stomach dropped down into her feet as it lifted off. The small plane rumbled as it gained altitude, and the land below them tilted and shifted. There were no stewardesses on this flight. The only occupants were professionals on their way to a job.

When the plane leveled off, a man in his sixties stood up at the front and addressed the passengers. He was balding, and the few hairs that clung to his head were a pale gray. He had a scraggly beard that was the same color as his hair. A pair of eyeglasses rested over droopy blue eyes. “Ladies and gentleman from the media, I’m Dr. Mitchell Redford. You might be wondering what we’re going to do on this excursion. Our assignment is to retrieve the cyborg unit designated 'Green Squad' and get them back to Cyborg Sector. We won’t land in Albuquerque for a couple of hours. I thought we could take advantage of this time to let you know what to expect.”

Dr. Redford took a few steps down the aisle of the plane, resting his eyes on each reporter in turn as he spoke. “I know you’ve all been briefed by your home offices, but I also know that the media likes to twist facts to support their agenda.” He gave a small smile and steepled his fingers in front of him. “You might not like me for saying it, but I’m a scientist, and I have the tendency to speak the truth. What you have heard from your sources may or may not be accurate. If you indulge me, I’ll tell you the real story right now.”

Rachel frantically fished a digital recorder out of the pocket of her jeans and turned it on. She didn’t want to miss a single word. Samantha was barely paying attention to Mitchell. She had removed her earbuds but was tapping her finger on the screen of her tablet.

“One year ago, before Cyborg Sector shut down, we inserted a unit of autonomous cyborgs into the New Mexico desert. Their mission was to eliminate a terrorist cell. The only humans involved were their targets. We know for a fact that the terrorists died, but in the battle, we lost communications with Green Squad. There were never any follow-up transmissions. We assumed they were all dead until now.”

Rachel raised her hand, and Dr. Redford nodded at her patiently. “I don’t understand. How could a group of soldiers be abandoned and forgotten in the desert? Didn’t anyone think about sending a scout team before an entire year had gone by?”

“That’s a great question. We created the cyborgs to save human lives. As far as we were concerned, they fulfilled their role beautifully. The Cyborg Sector administration decided it would be more efficient to create new cyborgs instead of wasting resources looking for the old ones. A couple of tourists hiking in the Gila National Forest spotted some unusual activity recently. The information slowly made its way up the chain of command until it reached Cyborg Sector. Now we believe Green Squad is still out there. What’s left of them.”

Rachel wasn’t finished asking questions. “But what happened out there? And how will it have affected the cyborgs to be cut off from human contact for a year?”

Samantha sighed impatiently next to her. “Everyone thought they were dead. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“Actually,” Dr. Redford corrected, “those are questions that have been on everyone’s mind. As scientists, we have to figure out what happened to our communications equipment that prevented us from talking to each other. To be honest, we doubted Green Squad survived. As for the social impact, that’s up to you to determine.” He smiled kindly at Rachel.

A new voice called out from the front. “What you need to know is how to behave on this trip.” The handsome man who had boldly scrutinized each reporter stood and moved behind Dr. Redford. His pale emerald eyes lingered on Rachel for a moment before he acknowledged each passenger. “While there is always some danger in dealing with cyborgs who haven’t been rehabilitated, these particular models are more hazardous than the others. They have had no human interaction in over a year and executed the last people they encountered. We don’t know anything about their current state of mind. They could be wild, might not listen to negotiations, and are trained to kill. Members of the media should make sure to stay out of our way.”

Dr. Redford had casually stood aside to let the other man speak, but he stepped forward again to speak to the small crowd. “If you have any more questions, we can address them after we land. Thank you.” Both scientists sat down and began quietly talking to each other.

Samantha snorted as she picked her earbuds back up.

“Did I miss something? What’s funny about this?” Rachel asked. “It sounds like we’re going to be taking a lot of risks.”

“You make it sound like this is the first time you’ve covered anything.” Samantha set the earbuds back down and rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s going to be risky. The entire point of being out on the scene is live coverage. That means we might get shot at, bombed, or swept away in a flood at any time. What do you think this business is all about? If you can’t handle it, you better get out now while you still can.” She gestured toward the door before quickly plugging her ears again. Rachel didn’t get the chance to reply.

Donnie, the cameraman, appeared in the aisle with a large thermos in his hand. Rachel glanced up at him and back to the window, hoping he would take the hint and go away. Unfortunately, Donnie was there to socialize. He unscrewed the lid of the container and stretched over Ms. Houston, offering a drink. “I have some great coffee here if you want to try some.” He sounded enthusiastic. “I always feel funny after flying, and I think the caffeine helps soothe my stomach. I never go anywhere without it. You should try some.”

Even though it was sweet of him to offer, Rachel wasn’t keen on drinking from a stranger’s beverage container. She started to decline politely, but Samantha snapped at the cameraman before she could say anything. “Get off of me, you big oaf!”

“I just want to offer her something to drink,” Donnie replied patiently, unaware of how much he was invading Ms. Houston’s personal space. His armpit, complete with a large sweat stain, hovered in front of her face. He stretched farther, moving the thermos closer to Rachel.

Rachel knew the man was just trying to be friendly, but this wasn’t the best way to do it. “Thank you, really -”

“Go away!” Samantha shoved at Donnie’s arm as he tried to hand the drink to Rachel once again. The dark liquid inside sloshed out and spilled down the front of his coworker’s shirt.

Rachel flung her hands in the air helplessly as they watched the warm coffee soak into the pale cotton of her blouse. She had purchased several new outfits to celebrate her job. This was the first time she had worn the top. If she had been at home, she might have been able to get the stain out, but she doubted the plane was full of cleaning solutions. The dirty shirt would have to sit in a ball at the bottom of her suitcase until she returned to civilization and would probably serve the rest of its life as a cleaning rag.

“What did you do that for?” Donnie turned toward Samantha. There was a look of horror on his face as he assessed the damage. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t call it being nice. What you are is an asshole.” The senior reporter scowled as she looked up at the cameraman. “That could have landed on me, you know.”

Though Rachel agreed with Samantha’s sentiments, it was becoming quickly apparent that Ms. Houston would be a poor role model. Donnie had produced a dirty handkerchief from a pocket and forced his way in front of the seats, dabbing at the spilled coffee that was seeping into Rachel’s bra. “I can take care of myself.” Rachel grabbed Donnie’s wrist and gently but firmly pushed him away. She knew he was trying to be kind, but the last thing she needed was a bumbling cameraman groping her in the middle of a flight with a bunch of gossiping reporters surrounding her. “I’ll change when we land.”

With a sad and embarrassed look on his face, Donnie returned to his seat. Samantha kept her earbuds on and turned as far away from Rachel as she could.

It was a long and lonely flight. Rachel’s only company was the cold coffee pressed against her skin.

After landing in Albuquerque, Rachel waited impatiently for airport staff to finish unloading the luggage. She felt tired and filthy after the trip. She looked forward to collapsing in a hotel room where she could shower, change, and take a short nap.

Dr. Redford had other plans for her. “Two vans are waiting outside to take us to the site. There’s space for your luggage, but don’t dawdle. It’s important to get started right away. We have to get the cyborgs under our control again before they hurt anyone. I’ll be waiting for you.” He turned on his heel and headed out the door.

Rachel watched hopefully as the offloaded luggage made its way around the carousel, but her beat-up suitcase failed to make an appearance. When everyone else had already fetched their bags, Rachel asked a bored-looking attendant if he could find her stuff.

The airport worker sighed as he searched through computer screens while she waited impatiently with her arms crossed. “It looks like your suitcase is in San Francisco,” he finally said. His voice sounded spiritless. For him, this sort of thing happened every day, and he no longer cared if people had their bags or not. “We can get it back here in two days.”

Rachel ran her hands down her face. “I’m only going to be here for a couple of days. By the time it arrives, I’ll be at my house.”

The attendant shrugged. “Sorry. We can ship it to your home if your address is on the tag.”

A headache started to form behind Rachel’s eyes as she stormed out the door to the waiting vans.