Run - Chapter 52: The Collins Box (Fm creampie voy exhib viol)

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Chapter 52: The Collins Box

"She is a lovely woman, and she is perfectly safe right now, I assure you," the woman called Major Danielson told Logan as he ate soup and buzzed from a mix of painkillers and some sleep. He'd barely made it back to the security line with Erol before collapsing in weakness. Whatever they'd given him for pain had ensured his weariness won out quickly.

Feeling measurably more like himself, and thrilled to hear that his mother was alright, Logan asked, "What about Finch?"

"Fine, as well," the woman told him with a smile, "as are your sister and father. They're together, leaving you the missing piece, for now."

"Can you take me to them?"

The woman shook her head, "Not yet. Orders. I promise we'll get you reunited as soon as possible. For now, rest and recover."

Logan saw her eyes cast an oddly familiar glance to Erol who stood nearby, and the Major excused herself, Erol doing the same and following the woman out of the small kitchen. Logan drained his soup and decided to follow along.

- - -

"Do you think we're going to survive all this?" Lauren asked him as they sat together in what was mostly a square metal room with open doorways on all sides. There were a couple of couches and several chairs, and the siblings shared one of the low, cushioned seats together, not quite touching but close.

"I think so," Finch said, not quite as sure of his words as he tried to sound. "That man Bridgewater seems to be in control of things."

"Yeah," Lauren replied, "but if they can't figure out Mom's secrets..."

"They'll figure it out."

"You don't know that," his sister countered.

"No... I don't."

It felt quite miserable to be stuck in such confined spaces. Sure, it was with great fortune that they'd reunited with their mom and dad, but Finch was missing his brother a lot, worrying about him, and so far, he'd been given no news at all about whether Logan might have been found, alive or something else. Finch hoped Logan had escaped the hands of that madman rumored to be a torturer who had shadowed Victor in the warehouse.

"What do you think it will be like," Lauren continued, pretending to ignore the more realistic outcomes, "once everything works out and we go back home... Do you think we'll just fuck together all the time?"

Finch spit out his soda and laughed. A good, deep laugh, too. One like he hadn't had in a long time. Lauren laughed, too, and it took several fits of coughing before Finch could reply, "I sure hope so!"

"Who would you rather fuck, me or mom?"

"Hey, that's not a fair question!"

"So?" Lauren said, keeping her voice rather low, "Which one?"

"You, I guess," Finch replied, knowing better than to pick anyone other than Lauren right then, no matter what the truth might be, not that he'd ever considered the question before.

"You guess?"

"I mean... uh..."

Lauren laughed again, "I'm just kidding, Finch. You don't have to choose, so long as I get mine, it's all good. I hope you and Mom fuck all the time. I'm going to ride Dad so hard... Mmm... I can't wait..."

Finch was getting rather excited and considered prompting Lauren to return to the room for privacy.

Instead, Holly walked through the room and her pace slowed and stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Talking about fucking your parents?"

Finch's jaw dropped and Lauren giggled. Finch looked at his sister with concern.

Lauren laughed again and said, "You know we are..." She turned to Finch and said in a hush, "Holly fucked her Dad, too..."

"Oh!" Finch said, looking over the cute blonde who wasn't much older than him. "Really?"

Holly grinned. "Not lately, but yes... Good times." She moved on and was out of the room quickly.

The brief conversation only made Finch's desire for Lauren stronger. "We should—"

Loud conversation broke into his words and two technicians came into the room, discussing some aspect of navigation, and settled into a seat. Finch was too afraid of being overheard to ask it fully, even in whisper.

Lauren seemed to understand and said very quietly, "Maybe later, Finch. Little sore right now..."

He nodded and, ignoring anyone seeing him, leaned against his sister. Her arm wrapped around him, holding him tight. Finch closed his eyes and tried to rest and stay in the happy place Lauren had helped create, one where his sister and his mother were always willing to bend over and take his cock inside.

- - -

The sounds from inside the closed room were light, but Logan had become an expert in listening. Major Danielson's grunts and Erol's as well were moving in a nice rhythm, and Logan really wished to see more. Already taking a chance listening in the hallway, he dared grab the door's handle and slowly rotated it until the latch came free. Carefully, he leaned forward, holding the door, and looked in.

Major Danielson was riding Erol steadily, her broad hips rolling over his body. The young man's expression was one of focus and pleasure. They both breathed quickly, and soon, the woman's body trembled as she jerked her hips, clearly climaxing over him.

Erol followed soon after, and Major Danielson whispered encouragement for him cum inside her.

Logan was stroking himself in his pants, almost ready to release, when suddenly a siren wailed from somewhere nearby. The couple in the room jerked away from each other in chaotic motions, giving Logan a chance to close the door and dash down the hallway some distance before other people started rushing down towards him. He waited until Major Danielson and Erol emerged from the room, looking more or less professional. "Status!" the woman yelled to a man who'd stopped just outside the room's door.

"Ten minutes out, no warnings. Outpost spotted. Infantry, a company. They may be mortars, and... Major... they have a tank."

Logan's pulse raced. A tank!?

- - -

"We're getting nowhere," Holly muttered in Gene's ear as the heated conversation with Gabriel had, as yet, yielded nothing of much interest. Gabriel denied everything, revealing nothing.

For all Gene could tell, he might be telling the truth. Hell, they'd given Gabriel sodium pentathol, or something similar. If he wasn't spilling the beans, it might be because he honestly knew nothing.

But Gabriel was no meek kitten, either, his visceral insults not helping anyone keep cool. He'd brought up Holly's sexual relationship with Bridgewater, a fact that, as far as Gene knew, was not common knowledge. Neither directly denied the claims, choosing instead to continue hammering Gabriel for information.

"What's it like, Aristotle? Fucking your own daughter. Must be a pretty sick fuck to do something like that."

"You and Quick were fast, Gabriel. We know that," Bridgewater said evenly, avoiding the man's bait, "and we know you know something important. It's just a matter of time before Lee Lee puts his finger on your pulse and spills your secrets. Or your blood. At this point, I really don't fucking care."

Gabriel cleared his throat and spat towards Bridgewater, missing badly but the point was clear. His eyes turned to Gene, "You're the little piss who ruined my opportunity. I had you right fucking here, you shit. You shit! Stole my submersible and left me holding your bag. I swear to fucking god, give me one second with my hands free and I'll—"

"Enough!" Bridgewater shouted, slamming his fist into Gabriel's jaw. It sent the man's head spinning, and for a moment, their captive was dazed. "I'm just getting started, Gabriel. Test me."

It took a moment, but then Gabriel's focus returned and his eyes fixed on Gene. "Did she ever tell you about how she cheated on you, Shay?"

Gene shivered, hating the use of that tarnished name.

"Did she?" Gabriel continued. "Fucked Charles so hard she squirted, so I hear. Said it was the best dick she ever had. Said he was bigger, too."

Another punch, this time from Holly, rocked Gabriel the other way, but once more, he recovered and returned his anger to Gene. "Bet she never told you about Calais, did she? About how she found out you cheated with some bimbo... Vanessa, or Valarie, or... some fucked up name. Vangalia. That's the one! You fucked some bimbo called Vangalia!"

Vangalia. Gene's head swam and his knees gave way. It was only because Holly's reflexes were so quick that he didn't immediately crumble to the ground. "Gene!"

His mind opened and Gene felt something unlock in his brain.

Vangalia was not a woman. It was a codeword for a project he and Utah had worked on together outside of the rest of the group. It was deep in the weeds in a security protocol which offered a backdoor into other systems which were thought to be fully secured. It had taken weeks of planning, weeks more to figure out how to make it work, but in the end, and with Baron Quick's help, it was implemented in a few test subjects. Vangalia was the process by which systems, and eventually, memories, could be locked away using neural mapping and enhanced wetware algorithms.

It was how the mnemonic had worked to lock aways Gene's memories of his time at Whitehead, likely Tamara's, as well. Vangalia alone didn't tell one how to open the lock, but it made Gene's head swim until the answer they all sought was clear in his thoughts.

"Tamara," he moaned, pain shooting daggers behind his eyes, his ears pounding, "I need to see Tamara..."

"Fetch her," he heard Bridgewater growl.

His wife was there quickly, "Gene?! Are you okay?"

"Tam... Tam..." He took her hand weakly, fighting back tears from the pain. "There is no spoon."

He felt her flinch. "What?" she asked uncertainly.

"There is no spoon..."

Holly broke in, "What... like The Matrix?"

"There is no spoon..."

Tamara's hand snatched away and he opened his eyes to see her watching him. He could see the wheels turning.

"Every time we've seen that movie," Gene breathed, "something felt odd... right about that scene..."

"There is no spoon," Tamara repeated, "there is no spoon."

He saw her stiffen, her eyes wide, "I'm the one who has to bend!" She raced to Bridgewater's side. "I know it. I know how to work the box. I know what's inside it. It's been right there in my head the whole time."

"Show me." Bridgewater hissed.

- - -

The explosions outside the complex were light at first, but still frightening. Logan didn't like sitting still. He'd been running for so long that the hour which passed since the alarm had been raised felt like an eternity. He'd gotten his pistol, a smooth steel piece with an extended clip. Two more clips were in his pockets. For the first time, he actually felt like a soldier.

But the waiting was tearing into his enthusiasm quickly. He lacked the training to keep himself steady, though, Logan thought, he was doing pretty good, especially when he saw the fear and uncertainty in those around him.

The explosions signaled the approach, someone shouted, and then the sputtering of automatic weapons started somewhere outside, at a distance.

The force holding the compound was not large, no more than thirty or so men and women. Not a ton of supplies. Cut off, from what Logan knew. Surrounded, maybe, if there were naval patrols in play. Certainly, on a small rock like Malta, there was nowhere to go. Their helicopters were considered early on, but when one of them had tried to run a visual check on the forces moving forward, it had quickly been shot down by a missile. They couldn't chance that escape.

Logan was hustled further along one of the hallways with Erol and two others, the entire remaining force still in the building. All the others, including Major Danielson, were somewhere engaged outside. They'd been given specific orders of when and where to move once the fighting started, and Logan had no say in any of it. He never particularly liked that part, but he recognized that a soldier had to follow orders or it would be chaos.

They exited the building along a sheltered side and raced along the waterfront. The sounds of the fighting was to their left rear. The small party of the four of them was to take positions along one flank and try to distract any forces trying to encircle the defenders. It seemed like a suicide mission to Logan, but, he figured, a lot of heroes die heroically in just those sorts of situations.

"Down!" Erol hissed as they reached their assigned location. Already, Logan could see a dozen soldiers rushing down the low rise, doing just what Major Danielson had expected. Erol hissed again, "Ready to fire! Logan... you hold off until they get close!"

He'd been told not to bother firing until the enemy was within range. The other three in the squad held automatic rifles, and they started sputtering loudly when Erol gave the command. Logan kept his head down and waited.

Daring a look, he saw that the dozen soldiers had stopped moving forwards and were hunkering down behind a few old shipping containers. It was decent cover, giving Erol and the others little to shoot at. They sent an occasional burst in that direction, and it did the job of keeping the enemy there occupied until they could be fought off by the main force. By the ferocity of noise coming from the main fight, that might be a long time.

They were beginning to reserve ammunition and the enemy force was starting to send more their way. "Logan, I need a big thing from you," Erol told him, dirt splattered all over his face, blood from a scratch or a graze trickling down his left cheek. "See if you can creep just there, see? If you could pick off one, maybe two, I think we can hold here longer. We need them to think a sniper is at work."

One of the other soldiers spat and shook her head, "That's silly. They'll know the sound of a sidearm in a heartbeat. They'll know he's close."

"They'll be on us shortly, and we don't have the ammo to hold them off. Better options?" Erol asked.

The woman chewed her tongue, then shook her head, "Nothing."

"You can do this," Erol told Logan, "just hit one or two, then come right back. They'll be on you fast, so don't linger."

Logan nodded, frightened but ready to do anything to get out of the terrorizing battle. He caught his breath, readied his aching muscles, then low-sprinted from point to point, each one closer to the people trying to kill him.

- - -

"I'm not waiting any longer. I have to know what's going on," Lauren told her brother as she got off the couch. "Coming?"

"So tired..." Finch moaned. He looked rather unwell, surely needing sleep.

Lauren nodded then headed out of the room, coming to a slow walk when she heard the excited chatter in the status room. She poked her head inside.

Her mother was calmly pointing towards some little statues or figures and telling the man called Silver what to do with each. "Can't believe I didn't put these together. The monkey with the tambourine. This is the one," she said, holding it up, "it just... never got painted, I think."

Lauren squinted and could just make out the figure of a monkey, one arm raised in the air holding a something above.

"The trick is that once this one is locked in place, you can't make a move which causes it to rotate. If you don't know the exact order, you'll never get it right. Quick showed me this over and over and over, and then he made it stick before hiding it. I daresay," Lauren's mother added, "I could do this in my sleep."

One after another, the pieces were placed into roundish slots on the board attached to the top of the box. "Now the monkey," she told Silver. "Think of this like the game Operation. One false move from here will destroy what's inside..."

"Operation?" Silver mumbled, looking uncertain.

"A board game, you nerd," Holly spat, "stop twitching."

Silver calmed and placed the monkey, then followed Tamara's instructions until all the pieces were in place.

"Now the tricky part. I'll have to do this, I think." Slowly, very carefully, Lauren's mom twisted one piece clockwise, another counterclockwise. Each time some or many of the other pieces also rotated to new positions. All except the monkey which remained perfectly still. It was nerve-racking watching the delicate twists, and Lauren felt her fear of something horrible about to happen grow stronger with each move.

- - -

"Last one..." Tamara breathed, in a trance of sorts. The memory of each move was never really in her head at any point. It was more an instinct, a muscle memory, programming leading her twists and turns. The small board never shifted and she made each rotation smoothly and with the exact amount of turn. She'd never been so focused nor so successful at something so manually difficult.

She made a final three-fifths turn of an organ figurine and immediately the monkey began to spin slowly around its axis. Tamara sucked in her breath and heard others do the same.

A tiny click, barely audible, coincided with the monkey stopping again.

Tamara turned the box so that the tiny opening was towards Silver.

The man pulled it closer, barely breathing, then opened a small case, taking thin, long tweezers out and reaching towards the box.

He pulled back and held just at the tip of the tweezers was a thin, semi-opaque circular chip.

"Is that a nanodrive?" Holly asked from over her shoulder.

"It is," Tamara said at the same time Silver confirmed Holly's guess.

Silver added, "Get Martinez. Have him bring me the red case on the second shelf. Hurry!"

A man dashed out and was gone no more than thirty seconds before a short, bald man ran in carrying a plastic case. He opened it and Silver grabbed a rectangle drive sleeve.

It all felt so familiar to Tamara. She'd seen this done dozens of times, or, at least, her impression of her experiences held similar weight. It wasn't really that she remembered such moments, but it was so well drilled into her, through repetition or Baron Quick's ministrations, that there was no surprise when Silver cracked the drive case, dropping the drive inside it into a plastic sleeve, then mounted the secret disc.

"What's it do...?" Bridgewater asked calmly.

"It... turns on my device. Whatever that is. I never really knew that part. At least... not that I remember, but then again, none of this was in my head... openly... until today..."

"And then...?" the man queried.

"I have no idea."

"This might be dangerous," Gene growled, "we should take a breather and think about this..."

"We're running out of time," Bridgewater replied. "Victor may have found a way around all this, for all we know. We're sure he got to a couple of the other keys and vaults, though we don't think he got in. Plus, he put everything into getting to you. Not exactly actions taken by a man who has an easier alternative. Regardless, whatever this leads to, Victor's ready to strike. He's currently in flight. And not towards the Cambridge or anywhere obvious. He's headed towards North America. He's figured something out. Something he didn't have a few hours ago. Or something has changed. Something important."

Bridgewater's words had rushed out and sucked all the protests out of the room. Even Gene was quiet. Tamara squeezed his fingers and offered him an assured smile.

"I'll be fine," she said quietly. "Let's get this over with..."

Bridgewater nodded towards her. "Get it decrypted, Silver."

"On it."

- - -

Logan's heart beat like a roaring fire, flaring in rhythm before settling a moment, then crashing in again. He tried to settle his breathing as best he could. The cacophony of gunfire had crescendoed, the sound of loud, thudding explosions pounding down not far away. The squad of enemy had gotten their nerve and were firing more often and more accurately towards Erol and the two others huddled behind bare cover.

Logan had avoided their notice so far, and he had crept to within fifteen feet when he found himself frozen. The pistol in his hand felt distant and cold, like someone else's fingers were wrapped around the grip, finger twitching just beside the trigger as Erol had showed him.

His legs were bent, his head down, and his muscles felt like the were fully encased in concrete. He couldn't move, couldn't even cry. Nothing worked. Was he still holding the gun? Did his hearing just fail? His eyes saw blobs of color and motion, little more. Logan's fear was stoked to outright panic, claustrophobia settling in when his arms and legs failed to move.

It was words from Panthea, told so long ago in a place far away from that compound.

“When you feel fear gripping you, force yourself to remember who and what you love. Focus on them. Make yourself believe that whatever happens, you have the power to change things for the good. When I do that, I find a way to push aside the fear and do what needs to be done.”

Logan thought of Lauren, how they'd shared their bodies. He loved his sister more than anyone in the world. Other than maybe Hannah, his thoughts turning to the beautiful girl he'd enjoyed playing sexy games with over the weeks. Perhaps it was his mother who was his most favorite, and he'd only dreamed about what it might be to play with her. He knew they all loved him, and he would do anything to ensure they were safe from harm.

Warmth and feeling rushed into his body. His legs felt stronger, stronger. The fingers wrapped around the pistol grip tightened and felt perfectly placed for what he needed to do. His mind cleared. Oh, sure, there was fear, but Panthea had told him that was normal. Everyone was scared. Everyone thought they were going to die in moments like this one. All Logan could do was control what was in his hands and let go the rest.

He closed his eyes, the youth breathing calmly a moment before he once more raised his head up and took a look at the enemy.

He counted to eleven. There were eleven of them. Erol had told him to hit one or two, so Logan picked the two most exposed and steadied his aim.

Sucking in his breath, Logan pulled the trigger.

One jerked and dropped in surprise, a second following. By the time Logan hit the third and fourth soldiers, there was panic starting to send the others racing away. He hit a fifth and fired a few more shots at those running away but seemed to miss them as they gained distance. Logan fired until the clip was empty, then he calmly replaced the empty one with another rack.

Erol came racing up to his position a moment later. "Logan! You crazy American gun nut! That was amazing!"

Logan grinned. "No problem." His guts started to turn over and Logan knew the real impact of what he'd just done was not even close to sinking in, but for the moment, Logan stood over three still and two twitching bodies while his squad-mates made sure the bodies and prisoners were safe. "Nothing any hero wouldn't do," he whispered to no one in particular.

- - -

"The code is easy enough to read, but what it does... I don't know."

Silver's words hung in the air a moment before Bridgewater pushed him for more. "That's not good enough, Adam."

Silver shook his head, "It's instructions, simple instructions I think. I just can't map it to anything. It's kinda like... music."

"Music?"

"Yeah. Like... There are pauses coded in it. Not sure how long or how short, but they are rhythmic, like the code needs to execute on a schedule, not just in an order."

The room was quiet a moment before Lee Lee spoke up. "You said this device in you," he said, looking at Lauren, "it would respond."

"Yes, that's what I know," she replied.

"Could it be a frequency thing? I doubt it would need to be implanted. That makes no sense to me."

"What do you mean?" Bridgewater asked.

"Silver said it's like music. Maybe it needs to be broadcast. Turn the instructions into bits and read it like... audio. It's an old trick, really, it—"

Silver broke in with excitement, "It's not literal instructions... it's a bitmask! Ones and zeros. I've got a program which can turn that into music. If the code is meant for this, there will be data telling us the range and notes and so forth. If not, it will be static. Be right back."

The man raced off and back, snatching up the disc case and using a cable to plug it into his laptop. Several minutes of silent concentration followed and not a word was spoken in the room.

"Got it. Ready?"

Tamara took a deep breath, squeezed Gene's hand, and nodded.

No sound came out and nothing seemed to happen. Silver shook his head and tried again.

"The speakers, Silver," said Holly.

"Right! One second."

He disappeared again and returned with a wooden case with a stack of speakers. "These can produce ranges well above and below the normal speaker ranges in laptops. Let's try again."

Again, nothing was heard and again, nothing happened.

"Fuck!" Holly growled, the short blonde having trouble controlling her mounting frustration.

"It's really short," Silver whistles, "I'll try putting it on loop."

Tamara stood silently, leaning over the table.

It was like being slowly hummed to sleep. It came on so gently that she didn't even realize how far she'd drifted until Gene jerked her hand and said, "Tam?"

"Huh?"

"What are you feeling?"

"Sleepy..."

"Turn it off," Gene growled. Bridgewater nodded and Silver stopped the loop.

Almost immediately, Tamara felt more alert. "It's causing something to happen. I don't know what."

"Get her to the med bay," Bridgewater directed. "We should be ready, just in case."

Moments later, Tamara was on her back on a cushioned medical bed. "I'm ready," she said.

Silver started the playback again.

The sleep came on just as slowly, more like being diluted in water than drowning under the surface. Her thoughts felt a little thick, but still moved easily around her head. It was like having all the water slowly drawn away from a warm beach.

And then the tsunami crashed in. Tamara swooned, images rushing in. She cried out in a panic.

"Tamara!" she heard Gene shout from a mile away. "Do something!"

"She's tachycardic," another voice shouted somewhere well away from her. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

"I did!"

"What the fuck is wrong?"

"Calm the fuck down!"

"Tamara! Oh, God!"

Tamara felt weakness rushing through every muscle, like her whole body was shutting down. She tried to scream, to move, to do anything but let the sensation fill her completely. She gasped, unsure she could even take in a breath. Somewhere around her, hands were on her body, but that was someone else's experiences. Her eyes wouldn't open, her ears felt thick, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thoughts of her husband and kids tried to battle into her mind but were torn away with no effort by the heroin flush filling her with sedation. Her last sane thought before the last molecule of air was left for her to breathe was of her missing son Logan.