The Neo-Spartans: Altered World (35 page)

Nico and the main contingent of Vaqueros moved through the Marisol-pantry entrance. And as they spilled quickly and stealthily into the main floor of the Citadel they splintered into well-trained, dedicated groups. Crowbar led a contingent to the main surveillance control room downstairs. They handily knocked out the surprised Social Defense Force team there and pushed the button reading MAIN. Cameras throughout the Citadel flicked off and the confused voices of the guys monitoring them could be heard echoing throughout the corridors.

Another Vaquero group, led by Scrap-Iron, following Nico’s hand-written map, dashed across the open floor to a stairwell and pushed open a door that led to the tunnel just as Shad skidded to a stop in the black van. The Vaqueros jammed the door open and spread out like ushers waiting for the boys to be guided to the waiting van. Scrap-Iron dashed below. He and Shad threw open the doors to the van, emptied it out for the forthcoming passengers.

Nico counted off the seconds in his head and looked to the Citadel ceiling. The sounds of the gathering Social Defense Forces could be heard nearby—cabinets zapping open and closed, the electro-metallic sounds of weapons being readied. Nico gritted his teeth and hoped he wouldn’t hear the inevitable sound of boots on the floor. He shot another look to the ceiling… and then he heard the high whine of a pair of two-stroke engines—the scramblers—going through their gears.

On the roof of the neighboring building, the plywood had been transformed into ramps. The two scrambler Vaqueros gunned their bikes toward the ramps, hit them at seventy-plus and were launched into a graceful trajectory. They looked like prehistoric birds as they arced across the cheddar sky with practiced Vaquero precision, putting them exactly on their targets: the skylights on the roof of the Citadel. The weight of the bikes crashed them through the skylights with tremendous force and clamor. As they went through, the leather-clad bikers pulled the ripcords on their mini-chutes and floated downwards.

But the bikes fell four stories to the bottom floor of the Citadel like two tons of bricks. The distraction was exactly what Nico had planned. A large phalanx of Social Defense Forces raced to the upper floor near the skylights where the bikes had come from. The guards overlooking Gabriel heard the crash and left their posts. Another Social Defense Force contingent made its way into the hallway where Nico and his team now ventured toward the infirmary and the isolation cell where Gabriel was being kept. The Social Defense Forces didn’t have time to raise their neuro-blasters before Big Mike and Padre pounded them down while Nico dashed for the now unguarded infirmary. Davies saw him coming and called out to the others. They pulled themselves together and headed for the exit from the room.

Big Mike, Padre and his team arrived and began to escort the boys toward the Vaqueros who would guide them to the waiting van. Soon, Nico emerged with a rescued Gabriel. Below, in the tunnel, Scrap-Iron finished readying the van for the boys and started back up into the main building. But from far above a Social Defense Force officer saw the escape attempt toward the tunnel, got on his radio, and just as Scrap-Iron returned through the door, a set of lasers leapt into place and Scrap-Iron walked directly into the beams. He howled as his clothes caught fire and his skin was scorched. He forced his burning figure out of the doorframe and fell on the floor, shrieking hideously. Throughout the building, lasers blocked every dedicated exit.

“Get back to the pantry where we started,” shouted Nico upon seeing the original plan’s exit blocked. The group started across the room. The Social Defense Force officer observed the evasive maneuver. He got on the radio again. Suddenly a new set of laser beam bars dropped into place mid-room, trapping all the Neo-Spartan boys and all the Vaqueros, except Nico and Gabriel. A cacophony of yelps went up from the trapped Neo-Spartan-Vaquero quarry as they tried to slip through despite seeing what happened to Scrap-Iron.

“I thought you said you were coming back with a plan,” snapped Gabriel.

“Man, you are your sister’s brother, aren’t you? You prefer their plan?” quipped Nico.

Big Mike sized up the laser cage they were trapped in. “We’ve gotta make it short-circuit by breaking the beam,” said Big Mike.

“Forget it, Mike, it fried Scrap-Iron,” countered Nico.

“Tell Quinn thank you. Tell her I’m sorry I had to waste her gift,” said Big Mike quietly, and then he stepped into laser beams. His clothes caught fire. His skin singed and scorched. And yet, he forced himself to stay upright and remain in the beams. Smoke and sparks poured from a neighboring room. The laser beams and Big Mike collapsed together. Big Mike was dead.

But by now, the Social Defense Forces had come down and were gathering at the exits. The only escape was the stairs, but crossing into the open to get there was hopeless without some kind of cover.

              “I’ll keep them distracted. You knock them off,” said Gabriel as he dashed off.

              “Distracted? What are you talking about?” asked Nico.

              In seconds it all became very clear. Gabriel, the parkourian, dashed to the railing accompanying a shiny set of stairs. He bounded from the railing to a landing, and powered himself through the air to catch hold of an overhead light fixture, all the time drawing fire from the Social Defense Forces. Flashes from their neuro-blasters caromed off of railings and blew apart light bulbs. It was a real fireworks show, but in addition to the splendid Fourth of July ceremony, the tactic was working. Drawing their fire allowed Nico’s crew to dive for cover and launch their own assault against the Social Defense Forces.

              Davies glanced at the other Neo-Spartan boys. In seconds they, too, were drawing fire. It should have been easy, all these bodies moving right there out in the open. But it wasn’t, it was next to impossible, like trying to hit video game characters preprogrammed not to be hit. The Neo-Spartans seriously ticked off the Social Defense Forces, which made them sloppy. There, they were out in the open, asking to be taken out. The more they fired, the more they missed, the more they tried to improve their angles by moving into the open as the Neo-Spartans slid down poles, vaulted desks, and back-flipped off the walls.

              So angry were they that the Social Defense Forces didn’t realize they’d made themselves sitting ducks. Nico, Crowbar, Padre and the Vaqueros picked them off coolly, almost casually. Soon the master hallway was filled with twitching security force corpses, the remainder beating a hasty retreat. Nico and his ragtag Vaquero army had done it. They’d seized control of the majority of the Citadel. Gabriel swung his way back to Nico. They regarded each other with new admiration. Seconds later the newly-freed Neo-Spartan boys poured into the master hallway.

“This isn’t going to last long. We gotta act fast,” said Nico.

              “Right. Let’s get Quinn.”

              Moments later, inside Grisner’s digs, Quinn spun to the locked door as it was blown off its hinges. Quinn ducked, expecting the worst. Instead, her brother walked in, a sheepish and hopeful look on his face.

              “You okay?” he asked.

              She looked at him and whatever residual anger had been fueling her fell away like snowflakes in June. “Is that all you have to say? After everything… after all the worry… after missing you so much…”

And just like that Quinn rushed across the room and pulled him into a hug. She broke it off and brushed the tears from her eyes, and looked at Nico.

“You did it. You really came for us.”

He barely had time to shrug before Quinn had pulled him into an embrace, this one accompanied by a deep, high intensity kiss, all the joy that the moment and the romance could bring together bursting forth from both of them. It was so thorough and surprising that Gabriel couldn’t look away. As they broke it off he found some words.

“Man, I musta been away longer than I thought.”

“Come on, we gotta vamoose,” Nico said as he pulled them together and guided them toward the door. But as they headed across the Vaquero-controlled master hallway and toward the tunnel door, Gabriel recognized where they were going and stopped abruptly.

“Wait, we can’t just leave.”

“Kid, this isn’t a truce, this is a lull as they regroup.”

“No, you have to see this,” said Gabriel. “There’s no point in coming this far and not following through. He’s up there.” He glanced at the dimly lit uppermost area he’d visited previously.

“You mean…?” said Quinn.

Gabriel didn’t need to answer for Quinn to understand. All their troubles for years were attributed to this untouchable Eugenic icon, and she knew she couldn’t leave without understanding what Gabriel was insisting on. Gabriel was the one who’d suffered the most, and if he were willing to stay when the door to the outside world beckoned… She turned to Nico.

“Nico…”

But Nico and a small Vaquero team were already on his way up the metal stairs Gabriel had parkoured moments earlier.

“What are you waitin’ on? The kid says it’s important, it must be.”

Davies stepped forward from the pack. “What about us?” he asked, gesturing to the other kidnap victims. “Don’t we get to see why we’ve been put through all this?”

Nico shrugged and gestured. The Neo-Spartans galloped past him and joined Gabriel while he led the pack upwards. As they neared the final floor Gabriel gestured for them to stop. Nico joined him and they soft-footed their way closer.

They reached a door beyond which was a vast humming operating theater. A dozen operating stations were being prepared with anesthesiology hoses, organ cases, respirators… and multiple body bags. Death was clearly a major player in this room. And supervising it all was Dr. Mallory himself, like a kid circling the Christmas tree in advance of the big day. He was clearly unaware of the fracas that had taken place downstairs, continuing the fantasy of the Frankenstein being he was soon to introduce to the world. He barely felt the presence of the Neo-Spartan boys as they closed in on him from every direction. At length, he looked up, glanced from face to face, recognizing all of them, but unable to fathom their presence here. Gabriel pushed to the front and suddenly everything seemed to come together for the not so good doctor.

“You mutinous little brat. You’ve been trouble since the minute they brought you in,” said Mallory, oblivious to the real danger he was in.

“Guilty as charged, doc. Gutting me out and using my parts doesn’t exactly inspire co-operation,” said Gabriel.

“Science requires sacrifice; you can’t achieve breakthroughs without spilling some blood.”

“Next time let’s spill yours,” said Nico, joining Gabriel at his shoulder.

Gabriel got in Mallory’s face. “Where is he?”

Mallory paled. His lip quivered.

“We can do this the easy way. Or we can do it your way,” Gabriel said.

“What are you going to do to him? My God, where is security?” squirmed Mallory.

“You really got to pay better attention,
amigo
,” said Nico. “Ask him again, Gabriel. If I do I might inadvertently kill him.”

Moments later, Nico, Gabriel, Quinn and the Neo-Spartan contingent had gathered up Mallory’s skeletal staff, stuffed them in a utility room and demolished the lock. Leaving behind the Neo-Spartans and Vaqueros, Gabriel guided Nico and Quinn to where he’d seen Grant Hughes before: alone in a massive room with an equally massive collection of equipment keeping him breathing and fed. They held their collective breath knowing that the repercussions of what they were about to do were beyond their grasp.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

It was the third quarter of the moon and its silvery crescent cast faint rays over the dark fields as dawn approached in the distance. Kilbert and a group of Neo-Spartans were pruning the apple trees in the small grow-op orchard. Kilbert believed in gardening by the moon. It was an ancient wisdom and tradition that he followed with dedication. Now was the best time to cut the ends without losing moisture or sap. He listened to the clipping sounds of the shears that sang like a chorus of somnambulant cicadas. It was soothing, but Kilbert was not relaxed. He sensed an intuitive disturbance and he couldn’t tell if he was aware of actual trouble approaching or if his conversation with Quinn had shaken his old foundation. He had devoted his entire life to the Neo-Spartan community. He taught them, he trained them, he watched over them. Under his tutelage they had grown stronger, they were fit to survive. Kilbert was hoping he would pass on the leadership to somebody who would do the same, keep the community together and keep them safe.

              And there was Quinn, Declan’s flesh and blood, burning with big ideas, swept by the tornado of idealism that comes so naturally to a young person, who wanted to turn the world upside down. Wisdom whispered in his ear that she was crazy and naïve, but the last little kernel of youth trapped under the decades of experience kept raising its voice, making him wonder if he weren’t simply stuck in the deep rut of the past and refusing to accept change. Maybe survival was not enough. Maybe people were panicked enough that they were ready to listen and believe what the Neo-Spartans had to say. And yet, he knew how long and difficult the process of changing peoples’ minds would be. The majority would be like him—convinced that their beliefs were solid and unshakable.