Rogue Operator (2 page)

Maggie
waved back, her head shaking, but smiling, as she urged him on with a wave of
her hand.

“Where’s
your sister?” she asked as Darius climbed into the car, smacking every
conceivable surface with his backpack as he removed it, his coordination skills
still developing into what she feared would be his father’s.

He
shrugged, the one thing he seemed to be able to coordinate no matter what he
was doing.

“I
didn’t see her all day.”

Maggie
frowned and was about to fish out her cellphone when she saw her twelve year
old daughter Ayla saunter down the stairs with several of her gaggle, as if
they owned the place.

Seniors.
Is she ever going to be shocked when she’s the youngest at her school next
year.

Maggie
honked the horn and Ayla cast a disapproving glance. The gaggle exchanged hugs,
then Ayla continued her saunter toward the car.

“Let’s
go!” yelled Maggie through the open passenger side window. “We’re already
late!”

Ayla
picked up her pace. Slightly.

Maggie
was about to let her have a burst of impatience when she instead sucked in a
deep breath and turned away from the sight of pre-teen disrespect, squaring herself
with the steering wheel, her mind drifting to what she had to look forward to
with full-blown teenaged rebellion.

God,
Jason, why do you have to go on that stupid fishing trip every year!

But she
knew why. His job. No, it wasn’t work related, but it actually was—sort of. He and
his two research buddies would go every year. They had since they were all
hired away from Boeing almost fifteen years ago. Cherry-picked for being the
best, they were also the three newbies brought in to save a top secret weapons research
department the existing staff felt had no need of saving.

So they
had bonded, and every year went on a fishing trip together, this year, despite
the layoffs announced, being no different. Jason was probably safe, but if he
weren’t, he hadn’t mentioned anything to her, nor would he. She had only found
out through Phoebe, Carl Shephard’s wife—one of the three stooges now probably
catching nothing—that there were major layoffs at the company, some contract
apparently lost.

She
smiled at the thought of three scientists fishing as the car door finally opened.
Jason was brilliant, and a wonderful husband. But coordinated he was not. Him
working a fishing line, actually trying to cast—

She
giggled.

“What’s
so funny?”

She
looked at Ayla, finally gracing the family with her presence.

“Nothing,
just picturing your dad fishing.”

Darius
giggled as she put the car in gear and checked her mirrors, pulling out of the pickup
loop at the exclusive private school. As she approached the gate, the security
guard gave her a nod and smile as he checked off her license plate from the
list.

She gave
him a wave, then pulled into traffic, leaving the walled compound meant to
secure and educate VIP children, behind. She remembered when they had first
arrived in Ogden. She had read the company briefing papers, and had laughed at
the suggestion it contained about sending their future children to Waterford
Academy. They had both actually laughed at the prospect.

But when
Ayla was born, and ready for school far too quickly, she had called the local
schools to make appointments. She had only gone to one.

“Where
does your husband work?”

“Omega
Bionetix,” she remembered telling the principal.

“Oh,
then you shouldn’t be wasting your time with us. You should be going to Waterford
Academy.”

“I’d
rather not. I’d prefer my kid to go to a regular school.”

The
principal had closed the file and pushed it aside.

“Mrs. Peterson,
if you value your child’s life, you will send them to Waterford.”

It had
scared her to the core, and when Jason had returned home, he found her huddled
in her bedroom, hugging her pillow, her tear streaked face leaving no chance
even he, the distracted scientist, could miss.

“What’s
wrong, honey?”

“You!
You! That’s what’s wrong!”

His
eyebrows had shot up, his chin dropped, and he gave her that questioning, “what
the hell did I do now?” look. She told him about the meeting at the school, and
he nodded, sitting down beside her.

“Perhaps
it’s time you found out what I do. At least an idea of what I do.”

“What do
you mean? You’re a medical researcher!”

He shook
his head and took her hand.

Five
minutes later she had left a message on the admissions department voice mail at
Waterford.

She
adjusted her rearview mirror and tapped her brakes, her subtle hint to the
black SUV behind her it was getting a little too close. It backed off, and she
turned the corner to head to the grocery store.

“Where
are you going?” asked Ayla.

“I need
to pick up a few things at the grocery store, it’ll only take a moment.”

“But,
Mom! I’m supposed to go to Julie’s after school!”

“It will
only take a few minutes, you can still go.”

“But I
told her I’d be right over! Now she’s gonna think I’m not coming!”

“Then
send her a text!”

“You
took my phone away, remember?”

Maggie
eyed the rearview mirror again. The SUV was back, and tailgating her again.

“Well,
you should have followed the rules. Texting after bedtime is a no-no. You
agreed when we gave you the phone. You broke the rules, and these are the
consequences.”

Ayla
slammed her fists into the schoolbag sitting on her lap. “I hate this family!
You guys are so strict!” she screamed.

Maggie
chose to ignore it. She had said similar things when she was Ayla’s age, but
she was certain over much more important things than a cellphone.

God,
I’d hate to be a kid today.

There
was no downtime. Cellphones, text messages, Facebook, Twitter, email. Chatting
online with forty kids at once, hundreds of text messages a day. The kids could
never get a break. When she was growing up, she’d lie in her bedroom listening
to music, reading, and if she wanted to talk to someone, she’d have to go ask
for the phone, and it meant talking to one friend at a time. And when she
didn’t want to talk, she’d be able to just not answer the phone, or tell her
mom to take a message.

But not
today. These kids were so wired in, from the moment they woke up they were
being hounded. Which was why they had made the rule. No cellphone after
bedtime.

Another
black SUV pulled up beside her as a large semi-trailer changed into her lane up
ahead. She glanced over, finding it slightly odd two identical vehicles would
be so close to her in traffic. The blacked out windows sent a little shiver
down her spine. She glanced at the rearview, the other SUV still only feet from
her bumper.

She
eased off the gas.

The
vehicle beside her continued past, then pulled in front, the massive bulk
blocking her view of the traffic ahead. She debated changing lanes, but she had
to turn right in the next few minutes. She hated SUV’s and trucks.
You can’t
see through them, over them or around them.
They were a danger to the other
vehicles on the road, and half the time they were driven by idiots who thought
they were invincible once behind the wheel.

She
glanced back at Darius, who was busying himself with his Nintendo 3DS.

“Mom!
Look out!”

Her eyes
darted from the rearview mirror to the road in front to find the SUV had
swerved to the left, leaving her barreling toward the back of the semi-trailer,
its loading ramp down, its empty interior gaping in front of them.

She jumped
on her brakes as she looked in the rearview mirror at the tailgating SUV. It
slammed into the back of them and she instinctively reached a hand out to
prevent Ayla from smacking into the dash. She turned toward Darius, his
terrified eyes meeting hers as his Nintendo flew out of his hands, his tiny
body shoved into the back of the seat.

Ayla
screamed, Darius joining her, as Maggie tried to keep cool.

It’s
just a car accident.

But
something was wrong. Her mind was a jumble, her thoughts scrambled from the
shock, the panic, the screams, the concern over her kids.

And the
fact their car was still moving.

“Mom!
What’s happening?”

But she
didn’t know. She couldn’t figure out what was going on. She looked ahead, at
the truck in front of her, the truck that continued to get closer, and her mind
reeled as it tried to comprehend what it was seeing.

Her foot
was planted firmly on the brake, but an engine was roaring. Her instinct was to
turn off her car, but it wasn’t her engine she was hearing. It was the engine
of the SUV, its tires squealing behind them as they continued forward. She
looked in the rearview mirror at the SUV still on their bumper, when it all
clicked.

It’s
pushing us!

The
front of the car jolted as it hit something, then suddenly they were all tilted
back in their seats. Darius wailed, Ayla screamed, and Maggie reached up to
press the panic button.

They jerked
up the ramp, into the back of the semi-trailer. Maggie shoved the brake into
the floor even harder, reaching over with her foot and pushing hard on the
emergency brake, but they continued to hop forward, their tires not turning,
all momentum being created by the massive SUV behind them.

She felt
the rear tires hit the ramp, the front tires now at the top as she shook the
steering wheel. “Pick up! Pick up! Pick up!” The darkness of the interior cast
a deep shadow over the front of the car, then suddenly they tipped up. A final
gun of the engine behind them, and they bounced into the back of the truck
completely, the blackness enveloping them, Darius and Ayla both screaming in
terror, a third voice barely recognized as her own joining them.

“This is
On-Star, how may I—”

“Help
us! Help us! Oh God please help us!” she cried as she saw the SUV disappear
from her rearview mirror, then the sunlight pouring in from outside suddenly vanished
as the rear doors slammed shut.

And the
cellphone signal died.

The car
jerked, and she realized the truck they had been pushed into was beginning to
move. The kids continued to scream, the inky blackness not helping. She reached
forward, her hands shaking, and turned on the headlights.

And she
joined the screams.

Mona Reservoir, Utah

Jason Peterson covered his head, the explosion terrific, casting a
huge arc of water over their tiny boat.

“Carl,
are you fucking crazy?” he yelled as he laughed. Carl Shephard shrugged his
shoulders and grinned from under the umbrella he had popped open only moments
before. “Nobody said you could use explosives!”

Carl closed
the umbrella, placing it beside him in their small v-hull boat while wagging a
finger.

“Not
true. The rules of the game say no explosive
material
may be used. I
used a high pressure gas to create a shockwave that momentarily displaced the
water, hence the shower you both just enjoyed. And, I might point out, by doing
so, I have set a new record.” He pointed at the water.

Jason looked
at where he was pointing. At least a dozen fish had bobbed to the surface.

“Can I
see the trigger?” asked Phil Hopkins.

Carl
shook his head. “Completely autonomous. I married up one of our miniaturized
drones, programmed it to seek out a school of fish, then detonate when within
one meter.”

Jason’s
eyebrows shot up and his chin dropped to his chest. “And just how was this
thing going to know that the biological it found were fish and not humans?”

“Anything
more than a foot in length it aborts.”

“You’re
lucky we’re on this lake alone,” said Phil. He jabbed a finger in the air at Carl.
“And next year we’re amending the rules. No autonomous robots, and nothing that
can suddenly displace water or air.”

Carl frowned.
“Awww, you guys are no fun,” he moaned with mock angst. A moment later he was
all smiles as he grabbed his net and began fishing dinner for a few days out of
the water.

Jason laughed.
He couldn’t remember the last time they had just had a simple, good time.
Certainly not since the accident at the lab. And in fact, they had all been
under so much pressure, it was probably their fishing trip the previous year
that they had last all had a good laugh. They had debated cancelling the trip
this year after the near catastrophe, but decided against it.

This
is the only thing that keeps us sane.

“Catch
and release for the next few days, I guess,” he said as he grabbed his own net
to help.

“Looks
like we’ve got company.”

He stopped
and looked to where Phil was pointing as Carl continued to gather his trophies.

“It’s a
public lake, boys, we’ve just been lucky so far.” Carl grunted as he leaned
out, tipping the boat slightly. “Just…one…more!”

The boat
tipped precariously to the side, and Jason yelped as he reached for Carl. His
own weight caused the boat to tilt even more and he gasped for air as he
tumbled into the water after Carl. He hit the frigid water and his instinct was
to gasp from the cold, but he resisted, instead spreading out his legs and
arms, then opening his squeezed-shut eyes. He could see nothing at first, then
turned his head and saw the surface above him. Waving his arms and kicking his
legs, he began to inch toward the dim light, his unprepared lungs ready to
burst, every inch of his body screaming against the cold.

Something
grabbed his foot.

His
heart hammered into his chest, and he kicked, trying to free himself from
whatever had a grip on him, but it wouldn’t let go. His lungs were ready to
burst from the exertion and he felt himself begin to be dragged down.