Lone star standoff, p.8
Lone Star Standoff, page 8
Altman turned her head to the side and whispered, “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.” Nathan wracked his brain to remember how he might have wronged Persenet. “I mean, I evaded capture by her. Probably embarrassed her in front of a trainload of people. I suppose she had to go report to somebody that she failed. But I’m not feeling bad about that.”
Octavia stopped in the doorway. “Once I have the laptop, I’ll call in. You can release them after that.”
“Release them?” Persenet said, a slight growl invading her tone.
“Well, you can’t kill Nathan — not permanently. If you kill Altman, you’re going to send him on a mission to cause you a world of hurt. Not to mention that the woman used to be with Eternity and MI-5. Her death won’t go unnoticed. And that’s not the mission. The mission is the laptop.”
“Won’t releasing them jeopardize your mission? He’s going to come right after you.”
“Okay, okay. You can kill him once. Let them waste some hours trying to find a soul that he won’t feel guilty about.”
That seemed to satisfy Persenet, and Octavia laughed as she left the room. Persenet turned to Nathan. “Maybe I should kill you once right now. Get it over with.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Nathan said. “Not when we have so much to talk about. It’ll ruin the experience of sharing some more of my life story, if I have to spend that time also thinking about finding a second soul.”
She hesitated. “You want to share stories?”
“That is the tradition. Since it’s become clear to me that rarely do Immortals cross paths, I figured we should do it while we have the chance. This is the second time I’ve ever met you. The third might not be for a century. I’d like to know a little more about you.”
Persenet stayed quiet for a long time. Nathan kept expecting her to hit him or spew some abusive language, anything to express the rage burning within her. Instead, she sank onto the edge of the bed and stared at them.
“Sorry about your friend outside,” Nathan said, not sure how else to continue.
Persenet shrugged. “Cannon fodder.”
Thankfully, Altman did not react. Nathan worried about her — her impulsive nature and the urgency to save her sister made her prone toward mistakes. This wasn’t the first time she had been caught by not being situationally aware. Though, he couldn’t be too hard on her. After all, he missed Octavia hiding in the bathroom. However, for the moment, Altman quelled her impulsiveness. She kept quiet.
Nathan also felt her head moving in a subtle but clear pattern. She did her best to get the layout of the room, observe everything she could sense, seek out any advantage they could use to escape. He also felt her fingers wriggling around as she attempted to untie their binding ropes.
“Do you want me to begin?” he asked Persenet. “Often when I’m doing this tradition, the other Immortal asks me to go first because I’m so young — in Immortal years. I don’t have as much to say.”
“I already know your story. And I’ve told you mine.”
“Hardly everything. Though I imagine if you did that, Altman would probably die from old age.”
Persenet allowed a grin. “Probably.”
“Well, tell me something different, then. Not about your history. Tell me — have you ever talked with your second soul?”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I know it’s frowned upon but disgusting?”
“Young and naïve. I see why Larkin wants to control you. It’s so easy with somebody who knows so little.”
“Then help me. Every Immortal I come across loves to tell me how stupid I am about Immortal ways, yet so few of you are willing to share any information.” Nathan did not have to fake his frustration.
“Do you think we should care about you just because you’re an Immortal? We care about your body — that it’s preserved — but you? You’re just an accidental tourist. You kicked out somebody we had all known for a long, long time. Judging from the way you’ve acted these last few years, I’d say you only managed to win through sheer luck.”
Nathan had never given much consideration to how the others might see him in relation to the soul that previously occupied his body. He never put in any effort to find out about the man. As he tried to determine if knowing about his body’s former owner meant anything beyond curiosity, Altman took advantage of the silence.
To Nathan, she said in a loud voice, “I don’t know why you keep asking her to share her story. She’s been around enough that she could make up anything, and how could you deny it?”
Persenet bounded in front of Altman. “You would be smart to keep your mouth shut. You don’t know anything about what you’re saying.”
“Are you the woman from the Crusades? Or perhaps you’re the man who was a samurai and betrayed his master. Nathan’s told me a bunch of these stories, but without being able to put a face on it, they all get a bit confusing.”
Nathan had never told her anything. He never would. But he knew what she was doing.
Persenet backhanded Altman hard before stomping over to Nathan. “You dare tell our stories to a mortal? It would be bad enough for you to share my story with another Immortal, but her?”
Nathan raised his eyebrows. “She already knows about Immortals. I figured what harm could it do?”
With all the dramatic shock of a teenager, Persenet stepped back and smacked her forehead. “What harm could it do? Are you insane? Do you have no respect for anything you have learned? And you wonder why we don’t want to share information with you. This is why. I tell you, if I had a trusted soul here right now that I could put into you, I’d kill you twice in a second.”
“I’m sure you’d like to try.”
Craning her head to the side, Altman said, “Hold on a bit. The way you talk, I’m thinking you were one of the ones that claimed to have been around with Jesus. Is that right?”
“No,” Persenet said, her exasperation evident in her posture as well as her tone. “Don’t even get me started on those lies. Not that I would tell them to you in the first place.”
“I’m not trying to be offensive. I simply find you fascinating. I mean, for example, have you ever come across a Prime before?”
“You told her about Primes?” Persenet swung back to Altman. Through the large bathroom mirror, Nathan watched as Persenet clutched Altman by the jaw. “You certainly like talking a lot. Asking your questions. You should be careful. Just because Octavia told me not to kill you, doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. Bad. Perhaps I’ll rip your jaw out completely. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to you chattering away.”
She shoved Altman’s head to the side, but Altman turned right back to her. “I only meant —”
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Persenet punched Altman with each word. The third blow hit hard enough to tip Nathan and Altman’s chairs slightly.
Brave woman, Nathan thought. Because she would have to do it again.
“Come on,” Altman said. “There’s no need to hit me. Especially since you’ve got the strength of a fifteen-year-old.”
Persenet screamed as she shoved Altman and Nathan over like a teen tossing the furniture against her bedroom door in a fit of hormonal rage.
As Nathan and Altman fell, they both shucked their bodies to the side in an attempt to create more force. Fortunately for them — though not so fortunate for Altman — Persenet’s teenage body had been around long enough to develop surprising strength. When they hit the floor, Nathan heard a crack, but he felt no pain. He listened for Altman’s cry but she didn’t utter a sound.
Persenet stepped over, grabbed each of them by the shoulder, and pulled them upright. When the chairs thumped back on all fours, Nathan discovered the arm of his chair had snapped. He kept it in place as much as possible — but now he had an opportunity.
First, he needed Persenet’s attention. “Why is it that all you tough Immortals who claim to be so superior to the humans — why is it that you are the ones always beating on them?”
Breathing heavy like a stalking beast, Persenet glared at Nathan. “The lesser kind have to be kept in their place. Too often they think they’re our equals.”
“Wow, I knew a bunch of you had delusions of grandeur, but now I think racism is more your thing. Or is it speciesism?”
Persenet’s nostrils flared as she loomed in close. “I don’t care what Octavia says. I’m going to kill you, real slow, and then I’m going to kill you again — even slower.”
When she had her nose pressing against Nathan’s, he curled his arm up and over, bringing the chair arm with him. A sharp motion and he bashed the broken arm into Persenet’s temple. She tumbled to the side. Nathan continued rolling his body over, the ropes loosening from the change in their binding shape — but not enough. His feet caught in the spaghetti of the ropes and he crashed to the floor, bringing Altman with him.
He crawled over Persenet. She tried to push him off, punched the top of his head twice, but couldn’t stop him from scrabbling up. With an outraged howl, he pounded the weaponized chair arm into the side of her head.
Five hits. That little girl had grown crazy tough over her long life. Nobody could take that many blows to the head without some effect. After five, though, her slackened eyes finally glazed over.
Breathing heavily, Nathan wriggled out of the ropes that he could and untied the rest. Altman soon followed. Getting to his feet, he surveyed the room. Maggie and Altman’s sniper rifle had been set alongside the other weapons and ammunition underneath the window.
He strode across and snatched up Maggie before handing the sniper rifle back to Altman.
“We can’t just leave her here,” Altman said. “She’ll be after us in minutes.”
“Wasn’t planning on leaving it that way.”
Nathan pointed Maggie at Persenet and squeezed off one round. The bullet ripped open her abdomen. “It’ll take some time for her to die. She hasn’t stayed looking this young walking around as a mortal for long. She dies, comes back, and she’ll hunt down a second soul before she ever chases after us. Doesn’t give us a lot of time, but it should be enough. Let’s go.”
“Not yet.” Altman crouched over Persenet and patted her down. She removed Persenet’s weapon, and as they left the room, she picked up the AR-15 as well. “No sense in making any of this easy on her.”
“That abdomen wound isn’t easy. Hurts awful.”
They jogged down the stairs and across the parking lot back toward the highway. Hopefully, they would find their car still intact. But at the parking lot edge, Altman stopped.
“What now?” Nathan asked.
She glanced back at the private sex party in the first floor room. “Once Persenet heals, she’ll kill them, won’t she?”
“Most likely.”
“No.”
“We can’t save everyone.”
“We can’t leave them to die, either. Besides if they’re not here, it’ll take her that much longer to find a second soul.”
Nathan didn’t like it, but he refused to waste time arguing. He gestured toward the door. Marching straight up, they kicked the door in — not locked, so it slammed forward with ease. Altman rattled off the AR-15, shooting into the ceiling.
The man on the bed startled, and the two prostitutes shrieked. Altman ordered them to leave, but her words were drowned out by the terrified cries. Fast to recognize they were not being murdered, and gaining an understanding that they could get away, the prostitutes did not bother with clothing. They rushed out of the room, running down the street, tears streaming from their eyes, scared for their lives, but alive.
The sleazeball of a john wanted to run with them, but he had been handcuffed to the bed. “Hey, you two shits, I told Frankie I’d have his money by the end of the week. You gotta give me the week before you start busting up my life again.”
As Nathan approached the bed, he glanced around the room for the handcuff keys. Sitting on the bedside table. He released the poor slob and gestured to the door. “If you got enough money to pay for hookers, you’ve got enough money to pay Frankie. Get to it.”
With religious fervor, the man brought his hands together in prayer. “Thank you, thank you. I’m sorry. I truly am. I promise I’ll get the money. I’ll get it to Frankie today. I promise.”
“Go. Now.”
The man watched Altman and the AR-15 with great care as he maneuvered around her toward the door. Once outside, he moved as fast as his stubby legs would take him, following the girls who were already a farm field away.
Lowering the weapon, Altman said, “That was rather fun.”
Nathan pushed out of the room and headed toward the front office. “Since we’re saving lives today, might as well do them all.”
When he got to the office, he pointed Maggie at the old lady behind the counter. “This is a robbery. Give me your money.”
Rather than showing any fear, her shoulders drooped in exhaustion. “Big tough guy with a gun. I’m so impressed.”
“Shut up and give me the money.”
“Your mother must be so proud.” The old lady unlocked a drawer beneath the counter and pulled out a lean roll of cash. “It’s all I have on hand. If you idiots did your job right, you’d know we already made the bank deposit yesterday.”
Nathan ripped the money out of her hand and motioned as if he wanted to hit her. He hated having to put on this show, but the alternative meant Persenet killing her. Stuffing the money in his pocket, he rushed out of the office.
With Altman at his side, they headed back toward the highway. “What good did that do?” Altman said.
“She’s going to call the cops. By the time they get here, one of two things happens — either Persenet has already died, healed, and returned, in which case she will have to stick around and answer police questions when they discover the body in the stairwell, the room you shot up, and the robbery. They won’t arrest her. She’s been through this routine before — she’ll be sure to act like a scared fifteen-year-old who survived with her life and a harrowing story. Regardless, she won’t be able to kill them or the old lady to take a soul. If she does that, the police will be on her, making her life difficult for a while.”
“And the other outcome?”
“If we’re really lucky, Persenet won’t be dead yet. They’ll find her shot and dying, and they’ll immediately call in for help. She’ll be rushed off to a hospital, patched up, interrogated, and eventually released. But the whole process will take many hours. She might even have to deal with Child Protective Services. Either way, we should have a good amount of time.”
As they trudged toward the car, Nathan’s thoughts spun over all that Octavia had said. Even Persenet’s words, a little bit. Like a fish in a pond swimming the same loop over and over, Nathan could not escape the Immortal argument. He couldn’t honestly expect to figure out a new path forward so quickly. Not when most Immortals had centuries to perfect their arguments and solidify their viewpoints. But he tired of their condescending attitude. Yes, he was an infant in the world of Immortals, but that did not mean he hadn’t lived the life of an adult human. It certainly did not mean that he was wrong.
When they reached the car, they found it unmolested. After making quick work of packing up and getting on the road, Altman dug through the glove compartment and pulled out two ear-comms.
“I’m happy to hear you guys are okay,” Robin said while in the background Marvin Gaye sang about the grapevine. “I wish you’d been quicker about getting free, but I’ll make do.”
“So glad our near-death did not inconvenience you too greatly,” Altman said.
Nathan chuckled. “Took the words out of my mouth.”
“If the two of you will stop yacking away, you should know that I’m still tracking Octavia.”
“You are? How?”
“Because I am a genius. When Octavia took your ear-comms and started talking directly to me, I astutely realized she would destroy the comms eventually. But as long as she was talking to me, I was able to read the different frequencies in the room.”
“Your ear-comms can do that?” Altman asked.
“No. But the NSA satellite I commandeered can. Since Octavia held one of my ear-comms close to her mouth, I was able to determine that the other signal extremely close to my comm had to be her ear-comm. All the other signals in the room were scattered throughout. So I’ve been locked onto her all this time.”
Nathan grinned. “You know where she’s going.”
“I do. And if we can believe what she told Persenet — that she’s headed to snatch the laptop while posing as a reporter — then you guys have to get moving.”
“Tell us where to go.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Hallstead Windfarm. Originally several hundred acres of cattle ranch run by Big Jimmy Hallstead. But Big Jimmy died after suffering cardiac arrest while eating a massive porterhouse, and his son Little Jimmy Hallstead found it more profitable and less work to rent the land out to the power company. They erected fifty-two massive windmills which stood along the flatlands like a testament to human ingenuity. At least, that was how Little Jimmy saw it. Sure, it brought money to the business, but his suicide note — which Robin located buried deep in the internet — suggested that while he fully-appreciated the good his windfarm would do for the world, he regretted how it left him without purpose.
“That’s dark,” Nathan said as he drove the last miles toward Octavia’s meeting. “Why should I know any of this?”
Over the ear-comm, Robin said, “Isn’t that part of Sun Tzu’s Art of War? Knowing your enemy and knowing all you can about the battlefield? Well, there you are. Since this handoff with Octavia is happening at the windfarm, I figured the more you knew about it, the better.”
“I’m not so sure Sun Tzu meant knowing the history of the dead people who once owned the land. More likely, he was interested in the actual layout of terrain.”
