Element Zero

The morning sun had just begun to turn the sliver of sky above us to a dull gray, and in front of us, the train yard’s floodlights were blurred in the fog. The chain-link gate that led into it hung open, pressed into a bank of dirty snow. On the other side, derelict monorail cars were lined up in a long row, half-buried and covered in ice.

Agent Van Offo stood to my left, working the electronic manifest with a stylus. A yard worker leaned against the guard station’s metal siding and stared at the head of his cigarette.

We’re at the entrance, I told the SWAT leader.

Roger that. Our teams are in position.

“I’ve got it,” Van Offo said. He held up the tablet to show the grid, with one of the cars called out. “Right there; that’s the source.”

The train car was stored with a block of others, abandoned along the brick-faced rear of the yard. I zoomed in and saw that the snow had been cleared away from the hitch and the door above it. I glanced back at Van Offo.

You see that?

I see it.

“Thanks,” he said to the yard worker, and handed the tablet back to him. The man took it without looking up. Van Offo stood in front of him and stared for a few seconds. In the gray light, I saw the brown of his eyes turn black.

“Go back inside,” he said in a low voice. “Sit at your desk and go to sleep.”

The man nodded. He flicked the cigarette, halfsmoked, into the snow and lumbered through the door, into the guard station.

“You look thoughtful,” Van Offo said. His eyes, always half-closed, peered over his large nose as snow collected on the shoulders of his coat. He couldn’t control my thoughts any longer, but he could still sense them. He didn’t know exactly what was going through my head, but he was good at filling in those blanks. It was easy to see, sometimes, why Fawkes hated them.

“Come on,” I said. “We’re moving in.”

Snow drifted down and had just begun to cover the boot tracks that branched off from the rusted metal gate. Several sets headed off between the rusting hulks. I followed them in.

Rail cars loomed on either side. The outsides were weathered, seams stained with rust. In the distance I saw oil drums, their rims scorched and covered with soot. Past that, beyond the perimeter, the huge shadow of the Central Media Communications Tower loomed over the city.

The tracks led down a frozen gray slick that ducked between two cars a few hundred feet away. I drew my gun and started down the path. Van Offo followed.

Wachalowski, this is SWAT leader. The area is secured. We’re waiting on your word to move in.

The satellite showed thermal activity in the yard. I could see the two teams as hot spots on the map. Van Offo and I were two orange points in a field of gray. All signatures converged on the far end of the yard, where a single car stood out from the rest, a pattern of shifting red and yellow among the cold, dark shapes around it.

There, I said. Van Offo nodded.

On the visual feed, I watched SWAT creep down the rows of rusted metal. Their optics floated in the shadows as they made their way toward the target.

Wachalowski, Van Offo said. He pointed at the trail in the snow. Sets of animal tracks trailed alongside the others.

SWAT, we’ve got dog tracks here, I said. Computer counts at least four different sets.

Roger.

I broke from the trail and moved between the car and the weathered brick wall beside it. I stopped a hundred yards south of the target, then zoomed in for a better look. The snow had gotten heavier, making it harder to see.

Anything? Van Offo asked. My breath trailed in the cold as I swept over the area. The wall of the car was too thick and too far away for the backscatter to penetrate, but I could pick out several cameras mounted on the outside of it.

They’ve got security feeds set up, I said.

We see them, SWAT said. Ready to cut their power on your mark.

An LED on the rear door flipped from red to green, and the latch turned.

Wait.

The door slid open and someone stepped out. It was a man with thick black hair and a surgical mask tied over his face. Over his clothes, he wore a black rubber apron.

One of the suspects just came out. Hold position.

The man walked out into the snow and the apron left a trail of black drops. He moved to the side of the car and turned away from the camera. Steam drifted up from in front of him as he started to urinate. From inside, someone barked in Russian. The translator scrolled text at the bottom of my periphery.

Clean it all up! Set the charges, and let’s get the fuck out of here!

You get that, SWAT?

Roger that. Team, watch for explosives.

I turned to Van Offo.

Can you lure him away from there? He nodded.

I turned back to the man, and watched as the stream of urine stopped suddenly. His head perked up, like he’d heard something.

They’ll see him on the camera, Van Offo said.

That’s fine.

The man swayed on his feet for a moment. He zipped up, and stood there like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Come on,” Van Offo whispered under his breath. I zoomed in on the man, and watched his eyelids droop. Van Offo had him.

The man in the apron took a single step back. He turned toward us, and I heard a soft pop as his body jerked suddenly. Blood jetted from one ear, and left a red scribble in the snow.

What was that? The SWAT leader asked. It wasn’t a gunshot. One of Fawkes’s kill switches had detected Van Offo’s interference and gone off. If the others weren’t alerted, they would be soon.

Cut the power. Move in now.

The man’s body crumpled to the ground as the floodlights went out with a loud snap. The LEDs on the storage units went dark as boots tromped through the snow. I closed in on the body, Van Offo close behind me.

“Get that door open!” the SWAT leader shouted.

The magnetic lock had powered down with the bolt still in place. One of them slammed a metal crank into the key and released it manually. Snow drifted down as another officer moved in and heaved open the door.

It was halfway open when a bright flash filled the opening and the force from an explosion inside the car blew the door off its track. It struck the SWAT officer and hurled him back onto the ice. Through the ringing in my ears I could make out shouting, as firelight flickered behind the tinted glass of the train car’s windows.

Get that fire out, the SWAT leader said. A team moved in and I followed close behind them. Flames raged behind thick black smoke inside the car, as one of the men slung a douser through the doorway and it thumped in the small space.

The flames died as a huff of hot air and smoke blew through the opening.

How many inside? the SWAT leader asked. The smoke was still too thick to enter the car, but using the backscatter I could make out two male figures inside. They looked dead, but something in there was still moving. A shape slunk below the smoke level, close to the floor.

There’s something in—

A dark shape lunged out of the smoke. A male revivor collided with the closest officer, one arm trailing behind it on a cord of sinew. Half its face was obliterated, and one moonlit eye stared from the blackened mess.

“Revivor!”