Forever Until Tomorrow (War Eternal Book 5) (21 page)

It was nearly twelve hours from the time Mitchell arrived in Los Angeles, to the time he and Lyle were able to get hold of a car to make the drive from L.A. to San Francisco. Trying to move without leaving a digital footprint was challenging, and in this case came down to the Detective having an acquaintance in the city, another former member of the 5th who had served with him during the war.
 

According to Lyle, Corporal Max Starling was one of the finest Marines he had ever met, even if he did have a propensity for an over-indulgence in vices. Prostitution, gambling, drugs - it was all game for the Corporal, who seemed to need the distraction to help calm his mind from the experience of war.
 

It was also his way of making enough money to survive now that he was out of the Corps. His main occupation was as a trafficker for guns and drugs, the kind of guy Mitchell would have expected Lyle to arrest, not remain friends with.

The kind of guy whose value couldn't be understated. Not only did he enthusiastically agree to drive Lyle and Mitchell up the coast, but he also provided them with a small arsenal of weaponry, "on loan" from a few dealers he knew. It was the kind of armament that Lyle explained even he wouldn't be able to get his hands on normally, despite his position in the St. Louis P.D.
 

"I'm telling you, bro," Max said, turning his head away from the road for the thousandth time and letting the more simplistic assisted driving system manage keeping him from crashing into anything. "Antarctica was the worst frigging assignment in the universe. And I mean that. I can't imagine anywhere worse."

"Why was that?" Mitchell asked, playing along. He had taken a quick liking to Max and his big personality. It was rough, but generally kind. He reminded Mitchell of someone, though he couldn't put a name or face to it.

"No girls," Max said.
 

"There were girls," Lyle replied.

"Military girls. Have you ever tried to get a military girl in the sack?"

Mitchell shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Don't think so? You don't know? Hooo. Okay, bro."

"I already told you, Vape," Lyle said, "Captain Williams had an accident and lost his memory."

"Your memory, or your mind?" Max laughed loudly, checking on the front of the car. They were halfway between L.A and San Francisco, riding in an old car Max had nicknamed the Beast. It was a classic, built in the mid twenty-first century, before AI had become as commonplace as it was today.
 

"Just the memories," Mitchell said.

"Okay, well, anyway, military girls are tough. They have something to prove. Doesn't matter that they've been equal for centuries, they still feel inferior, you know what I mean?"

"No."

"Hooo. Damn. Okay, besides the point. So, number one, no girls."

"There are numbers now?" Lyle said, laughing.

"Shit, yeah. Number one, no girls. Number two, cold as frig. You couldn't get up in the middle of the night to take a piss without bundling up, and the middle you whipped it out to take a leak, man if you weren't quick you were going to get frostbite."

"You're exaggerating," Lyle said.

"I don't exaggerate, bro. I tell it like it is. Blunt. Honest. Straight up. Hooo. Some people don't like it, think it's rude or some shit. I don't care. Frig 'em." He was quiet for a few seconds before turning back to Mitchell again. "So, what's it feel like to be wanted?"

Mitchell didn't answer. The destruction at the living complex in St. Louis had been all over the streams by the time they reached Los Angeles, and as predicted Mitchell had been named as a prime suspect, and a bulletin had been posted to be on the lookout for him and detain him if possible. Fortunately, Lyle had avoided Watson's notice, or at least he had decided to ignore the Detective for now. It was Mitchell he wanted.

"It's a setup," Lyle said, not for the first time. "The AIT has its hands deeper up America's ass than we realized."

"What do they want with you?"

"I don't know," Mitchell said. "Apparently before I lost my head I was a pretty large thorn in their sides."

"Sounds great to me. I heard what went down at that party the other night. Bastards. Anyway, I say screw the law, too. They take the means to defend away from the average citizen, and enable the bad guys to do whatever the frig they want. Good people follow the rules, assholes don't. Which means the rules are worthless half the time."

"That's why you traffic guns to the bad guys?" Lyle said.

"They're going to get them from somebody. I run them to regular citizens like you and the Captain, too."

"You would be a great Law Enforcement Officer. You don't have to be responsible for-"

"For what? Innocent people dying? Not this shit again, Carson. I was just telling you why law enforcement is bullshit. If I don't provide the guns, the next guy will. So what's the difference? At least I try to balance it out on both sides."

Mitchell could tell this was an old argument, once the two friends had likely been having since their discharge. He didn't really want to get into the middle of it, but he didn't need to lose his ride because Lyle pissed Max off.

"You want to know something?" he said, interrupting the flow of the argument before it could get going.

"What's that, bro?" Max asked.

"I agree with both of you. But it doesn't mean a thing right now. Right now, the AIT is trying to kill me, and they're taking out innocent people to do it. I don't think either one of you can argue that's a bad thing."

"Nope," Max said. "I'm with you, Captain."

"Detective?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Lyle replied. "I left my wife for this."

"Whatever is happening here, we have duty to try to stop it. To ourselves, to our country, to the world. The AIT is trying to hold back humanity. We're Marines, first and foremost. We have the duty, the will, and the way."

"Oorah," Max said. "As much as I hated Antarctica, I miss having something to fight for. Look, Captain, I was only going to drive you to the next checkpoint, but if you're a thorn in the side of the terrorists, and you're looking for a little more backup, I'm your soldier."

Mitchell looked at Max, who stared back at him with a determined fire in his eyes. He glanced over at Lyle, who nodded sharply.

"You sure you're up for it?" Mitchell asked.

"I don't have a wife, but I'd leave her if I did. I've been missing the action."

"In that case, welcome aboard."

"Oorah."

It took another half a day to reach San Francisco, with Corporal Starling spending most of it keeping them all entertained with stories about his time both in and out of the Service. At one point Mitchell had to push him to be quiet and let him get a little bit of sleep. After some ribbing about his inability to doze under fire, the Corporal quieted down and focused on the road, giving them all a little bit of peace.

Mitchell didn't mind Max's chatter too much. It felt familiar to him, like an old pair of boots broken in just so. He couldn't remember the specifics of his military life, but he remembered enough to know he had missed it.
 

The maglev station was located near Mission Bay, in what had once been the Caltrain Depot. It was a spider web of tubes and rails, a hub for most of the ground-based mass transit heading anywhere along the west coast. Its size made it ideal for blending in with the crowds. Even so, the crowds left Mitchell feeling exposed, his hood and a baseball cap Max had given him not offering much of a feeling of safety. He felt doubly insecure when he saw that the terminal's many marketing projections and boards were occasionally flashing to a high-res view of him at the complex, courtesy of the commandeered drones, alongside a mug shot of him taken at St. Mary's.
 

"You're famous, bro," Max whispered to him as they charted their way through the area.
 

"Shut up," Mitchell replied. The last thing they needed was for someone to overhear them.

"Try to relax. I move illegal shit through here all the time. Stay close and we'll be fine. No worries."
 

Max wasn't worried at all. He walked with a swagger, bold for someone carrying a duffel filled with assault rifles, pistols, and magazines and allied to a suspected cop killer. Lyle walked a few feet behind them, keeping an eye on the crowds and trying to be discreet.

They had come up with a plan on the way north, deciding that the best course was to be as careless as possible. So much security was centered around people trying to be sneaky, so it made sense to be natural. At least, that was what Max claimed.
 

They paused at a ticketing kiosk.
 

"I got this," Max said, dropping the duffel on the ground and approaching the AI. Mitchell didn't pay attention to the transaction, instead keeping a closer eye on the rest of the crowd. Most of them didn't even look his direction, and the ones who did barely gave him more than a passing glance. They had better things to do, and he was supposed to be in St. Louis, anyway.

Max returned a moment later. "Checkpoint Alpha clear, sir," he said to Mitchell. "Heading for Checkpoint Bravo."

Bravo was the inner security scan, the more advanced search and discovery protocols marked by the presence of uniformed officers. Mitchell would not only have to bypass a facial scan, but also get around the scrutiny of actual people. He could feel his heart rate increasing as they reached the checkpoint, adding themselves to a short line. What if the officers recognized him and wanted to detail him? What if Watson had his eyes on the scanning machines and found out exactly where he was and where he was headed? And what about Max? How was he going to get the contraband through?

Max reached the front of the line first. He smiled at the officers, giving them a charismatic grin and a warm welcome as he reached the narrow archway where all of the sensors were mounted.
 

Then he was through, the equipment somehow oblivious to the fifty pounds of munitions he was hauling.
 

"I bet you're going to stop my friend back there," he said loudly to one of the agents. "He looks just like that Reggie Doe the St. Louis Police are looking for. You know, the one all over the projections."

Both officers turned to look at Mitchell as he moved up to the sensor arch. He could feel the heat on his face. Max had said to be natural, not to call attention to himself.
 

"Shut up, asshole," he shouted to Max. "I don't look anything like him." He smiled at the agent. "I don't look anything like him."

The woman smiled. "Actually, I do see a resemblance."
 

He stepped through the scanner. He wasn't carrying anything that would set it off. The agent put her hand up to pause him.

"Hang on a second," she said. The male officer joined her. "You have some hardcopy I.D?"

Mitchell froze, not sure how to react. He had nothing except the data chip.
 

"My apologies," Max said, interrupting. "We spent last night over in the Tenderloin. Some asshat stole my man's wallet."

"You're kidding," the woman said.
 

"Afraid not."

"What were you doing there?" the man asked. "Drugs? Prostitution?"

"Just getting something to eat. They've got the best Vietnamese place there. I mean, I know Vietnamese isn't as popular since the Xeno War and shit, but it's still good eating, you know what I mean?"

"Corporal, shut your hole," Lyle said, passing through the arch and drawing the agents' attention. "Detective Carson Lyle, St. Louis Police." He flashed his credentials over to the agents. "I can vouch for both these men, and believe me, I would know if this were the same guy who shot up those cops. Do you think I would be hanging out with him?"

The officers were quiet for a moment, checking databases through their AR link.
 

"Your creds check out," the woman said to Lyle. Then she turned to Max. "Marine?"

"Semper Fi," Max replied. "Corporal Max Starling, 5th Regiment. Retired."

"Fifth?" she said. "That's a solid outfit. I did a few years with the tenth right after the war. I missed all the fighting."

"Trust me," Max said. "You didn't miss anything any sane person wouldn't have wanted to."

"Maybe so." She looked back at Mitchell. "If I can't trust a Marine and a Detective, who the heck can I trust?"

"Who, indeed?" Mitchell said. "Thank you." He skirted around her, with Max and Lyle close behind.
 

They made their way across the open floor to the waiting area for the maglev to New York. Mitchell glanced back at the security arch as they moved, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Life continued unabated around him, the same as it ever was.

"Checkpoint Bravo secure," Max said. "Checkpoint Charlie reached."

"How did you get that through there anyway?" Mitchell asked, motioning to the duffel.

"There's a scrambler inside. It's high-end illegal, the best damn little piece of tech money can buy. All the sensors picked up was a bag full of stream equipment. You, my friend, are damn fortunate you hooked up with Lyle when you did. Hooo. You're even more fortunate you hooked up with me."