H.A.L.F.: The Makers (2 page)

Erika’s head shook uncontrollably from the cold, and her stomach muscles ached from trembling. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to endure the physical pain and emotional anguish.

Something brushed against her hand. Erika screamed, but the sound of her voice didn’t make it to her ears. Then it – whatever it was – brushed against her face. A stick or maybe a finger. The thing was dry and thin. It touched her again and her heart picked up its pace, beating wildly in her chest.

Her breath was shallow and her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. She tried to get a grip on herself before she flew apart, madness overtaking her.

The thing brushed against her again, this time at her temple. Her eyes flew open. Something flickered in front of her face.
Maybe it’s a mirror.
A quick flash of small light. A shadow.
There it is again.

There was something – or someone – mere inches from her. Without her eyes to guide her, Erika had to rely on her other senses. The temperature of the air around her was slightly warmer. A faint stir in the air.
Breathing.

Another light touch, this time at either side of her head. Tiny, bony fingers pressed against her temples. The touch was soft. Gentle.

Another flicker before her face.
What is that?
Erika peered into the darkness.

Two huge, black eyes mere inches from her face watched her. Unflinching, dark and empty, a terrified face stared at her from the creature’s mirrored eyes. It was her face. She wanted to turn away from the image.

But her head was fixed forward, immobilized and compelled to endure staring at her own puffy eyes and face forced into alarming gauntness from lack of food and sleep. As her head trembled, the eyes staring at her wavered and shimmered.

Erika’s breaths were shallow and quick. She knew she was in danger of hyperventilating or passing out. The possibility of blacking out was more appealing than continuing to hover in a cold, dark void with the two black eyes staring at her. But if she passed out, she’d lose any semblance of control. At least if she was awake, she knew what was happening to her even if she couldn’t stop it.

The light touch at her temples became a subtle pressure. Her mind buzzed as though she had a million bees in her brain. An ache spread throughout her skull. The pain wasn’t like the icepick-through-the-head pain that Tex’s hybrid sister, Alecto, had caused her. Alecto’s virtual dagger through the skull made her feel as though her head was being split open. But the ache was pervasive and frightening just the same. Bile rose in Erika’s throat.

There was a voice, soft but clear above the din of the incessant buzz. She tried to shout. “Ian!” But her words went nowhere, caught in her throat.

The voice again said, “Sleep.”

I can’t sleep. I have to find Ian, Tex and Dr. Randall.
“Ian!” she yelled. Again there was no sound. The realization dawned that the voice she heard was spoken directly into her mind.
They’re in my brain.
Of all the things she had lived through in the past weeks, nothing frightened her more than the idea that a being – or beings – could infiltrate her mind.
Am I heading to a place where I’ll never again have a private thought?
She’d been so ready to run from Sturgis, she hadn’t considered that she’d be going to a world full of beings that had Tex’s same frightening ability to read her thoughts. She’d distrusted Commander Sturgis so much, she dismissed the woman’s talk of war with the greys as lunatic ravings. Sturgis had fired at the ship. She had started the fight.
There’s no war. Right? Or have I given myself over to an enemy we didn’t know we had?

“Sleep,”
the voice said.

Erika’s eyelids were leaden. The trembling stopped. The pain subsided. In an instant, a veil of darkness fell over her racing mind.

Commander Sturgis’ back ached from bending and dragging dead men, some nearly twice her size, across the now bloody bricks of Aphthartos. She’d never been in combat before. The smell of so many dead was new to her. Her stomach churned and threatened to dump its contents, but she would not allow herself to vomit. As always, Lillian Sturgis did what was required of her. She stoically carried bodies and body parts to the center of the town to be identified and returned to their loved ones for burial. The only consolation for her, and for the families, was that the men died heroes, bravely fighting the most virulent enemy the country had ever known.
At least now it will be in the open. They’ll know about the heroic work we’ve done down here.

The eerie near-silence of Aphthartos was shaken by the boom of a strong, low male voice speaking in a British accent. “The blonde woman – there – take her into custody,” the man said.

Commander Sturgis gently laid the arm she’d been carrying down. Her back was to him, but she’d know the voice anywhere. It was William Croft, leader of the Inner Council of the Makers, an international covert organization of which her father was a founding member.

She rose slowly and turned, her hands outstretched to her sides and covered in blood. A small army of men dressed entirely in black surrounded her, their rifles raised and pointing at her as if she were the alien threat.

The men surrounding Sturgis were nearly indistinguishable from her own black-clad mercenary force. The only difference was that Croft’s men wore the Makers’ symbol embroidered on their chests, a gold emblem of two snakes eating each other’s tails set against a pyramid background.

Croft strode toward Sturgis as if he weren’t stepping over dead bodies. Not a hair was out of place on his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper head. His prominent chin was thrust out, his dark eyes set on her.

“What’s the meaning of this, Mr. Croft?” Commander Sturgis asked. Her hands remained outstretched at her sides. She tried to keep her voice level and assured, but there was a small waver in it. She hoped he didn’t notice it.

He was close enough now that she smelled his spicy cologne. He was a small man, no more than five feet eight, and slender. Without her heels on, they faced each other at eye level. He wore a look of disdain on his clean-shaved face. “You are under arrest.”

“For what? Under what authority?” Sturgis’ voice had gone pitchy and high.

Alecto had been bent down over a body nearly thirty yards away from Sturgis. But now she walked quickly in the preternatural way that the hybrids had of moving. It looked as though Alecto was on a conveyor belt.

Croft took a few more steps toward her. He was less than two feet from Sturgis. His eyes held no mirth. “I
am
the authority. This is my city, and you’ve gone and shot it all to bloody hell.”

Croft was a commanding presence. His dark eyebrows hooded his eyes, and his cheekbones were sharp, creating dark hollows on either side of his face.

But Commander Sturgis held her ground. “Your city? You may lead the Makers, Mr. Croft, but the American people paid for this city. It belongs to them and I built it. I will not be pushed out like a piece of trash.”

A loud crack of flesh smacking against flesh filled the air. Croft hit Sturgis’ face so hard, it whipped her head to the side. Croft’s handprint was hot on her cheek.

“You created nothing but messes for me to clean up. You couldn’t even keep that hybrid in line, and now I’ve lost him.”

Sturgis shook her head slightly as though clearing cobwebs from her brain. She thrust her chin out and pulled down on the hem of her jacket. “You can thank Drs. Randall and Dolan for that. It was their hand –”

“Funny. I thought you were in command here.”

Commander Sturgis stared evenly at Croft but held her tongue.

“If you were anyone else, I’d order a firing squad instead of a court-martial. You can thank your brother when you see him next for invoking the right on your behalf.”

“How kind of him.” Her words were icy and lacked any hint of gratitude. She had been close to her brother, Robert, when they were younger. But she got sent to the proverbial basement to do the dirty work while Robert got to live above, enjoying all the perks of being on the Inner Council. They’d grown steadily apart as each became ever more entrenched in their work. They were now family mostly by name, though Commander Sturgis had been able to maintain a good relationship with Robert’s daughter, Anna.

“Well, you are of the blood. But that does not excuse what you’ve done here. You will be punished for your crimes.”

Croft’s words still hung in the air as he gasped for breath and fell to his knees, his hands at his head. His eyes were wide and bulging, his breathing loud and labored.

Alecto walked toward Croft, her hand outstretched toward him. She did not flinch as she stood over him and watched him writhe in pain.

Sturgis’ heart swelled with pride for her creation. After the debacle that was H.A.L.F. 9, Sturgis had worked tirelessly to improve on the prototype and create a stronger, more loyal and commandable hybrid. Alecto proved once again to be the devoted soldier that she had hoped for. Alecto had defended her without being asked, knowing instinctively to protect her commander.

“Take her down, you idiots,” Croft croaked.

In a flurry of activity, Croft’s soldiers attacked Alecto and knocked her to the ground. The soldiers scuffled with her, and a few men flew into the air away from her. But after a brief struggle, she let out a loud screech that sounded like a cat being hit by a car. Alecto was wrapped from head to toe in what looked like a thick, silvery Mylar blanket. One of the soldiers picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a rolled-up carpet. The package wriggled and screeched a few more times but was soon still and quiet.

“Don’t kill her!” Sturgis screamed. Her heart raced with panic. She took a few steps toward Alecto, but two soldiers put their bodies – and their guns – between her and Alecto.

Croft rose and brushed himself off. “Don’t be daft. Why would I harm my most prized possession?”

Sturgis pulled down the hem of her jacket and composed herself. She had been sure that the attack by the greys would mean that finally the truth would be made public. But it was clear now that Croft had other plans. The truth would, as always, remain hidden in the shadows, just out of reach. The greys had left a mess, and it needed an explanation. “It appears that I’ve been pegged to pay for a lot of things.”

“You fathom the right of it,” Croft said. “So many wives and children will wonder what became of dear old dad. What could explain such a massive tragedy?” Croft pointed a thin finger at Sturgis. “Oh, I know. Your gross negligence. Your lust for power caused you to disregard proper precautions with your chemical experiments. Your greed cost these men their lives. Traitorous negligent homicide. The little people will want their pound of flesh, as little people always do. And who am I to deny them their justice?”

Sturgis trembled with anger. “I may be a lot of things, but I am no traitor. I’d rather you kill me now than have my name – my father’s name – raked through the mud.”

“I don’t care in the slightest what you want,” Croft said. “And as for your father, well, he may have been a genius, but he was always shortsighted about what the Makers could accomplish if not beset by pesky allegiances.”

“Bardsley, how can you let him blame me for deaths caused by the enemy?”

“What enemy?” Bardsley asked. His voice quavered with uncertainty.

“The greys,” Sturgis said. “They were here. Their ships fired on my men. Men who were trying to protect our project.”

Bardsley looked around. “I don’t see an alien ship, do you?”

Croft’s lips curled into a smug and approving smile. “You are so misguided, Lilly. You think you have it all figured out. But you know nothing.” He leaned closer to her, his voice barely audible. “You have no idea what’s coming. In time you may even thank me. You may well be safer where I’m sending you.” Croft pulled away from her and spoke for all to hear. “Cuff her.”

Two men approached Sturgis. One of them tried to pull her arms behind her, but she elbowed him in the face. His nose gushed blood. Within seconds two more men were on her. When she tried to fight them off, one of the men punched her in the jaw with his beefy hand. Pain shot through her face and stars swam before her eyes. As she focused on not passing out, the men were able to subdue her. One pulled her arms roughly behind her back while the other snapped handcuffs around her wrists.

Her face was swelling. Her jaw wasn’t broken, but it would be sore for days to come. It clicked as she opened her mouth to talk. “You’re making a very big mistake, William. You need me. No one knows the hybrids the way I do.”

“We’ve got your research. We don’t need you. Show her, Sewell,” Croft said.

Sewell waddled forward and held up two external hard drive cases.

“Everything you know, now I know,” Croft said.

Sturgis glared at Sewell. “You slimy, back-stabbing weasel.” For some time, Sturgis had known that Sewell was reporting to Croft behind her back, though she hadn’t gotten to the bottom of why.
Thank goodness I kept my progress on the clones hidden.

Sewell withered behind Croft and lowered his eyes like a child being scolded. “You were going to kill teenagers, Commander. How could I … besides, do you think I really had a choice?”

“Everyone always has a choice,” Sturgis said.

“Enough,” Croft boomed. He wrinkled his nose. “I tire of the stench of this place. She’s all yours, Bardsley. You know what to do. And do not worry about your precious pet hybrid, Lilly. My daughter, Lizzy, will reprogram her so that she can take her place in my organization. It is, after all, what she was made for.”

“No,” Sturgis said. “It’s not. She was made to protect the people in the coming war. She wasn’t made – I didn’t make her – to be your personal bodyguard.”

“Wrong as usual,” Croft said. “Get to the train. Keep the hybrid wrapped in the wet blankets. Do not underestimate her strength.”

A dozen soldiers surrounded the man carrying Alecto, and they walked toward the entrance to Aphthartos. Croft followed them.

“Read my notes, then, Croft,” Sturgis called out. “Read them well so that you understand her unique needs. You wouldn’t want to inadvertently destroy your precious cargo the way your father’s idiots killed the prisoner back in ’47.”