Once the ‘packages’ had been taken, Hairo launched the Shark rapidly and resumed the previous route. The colorful men below, with their worn clothes and rugged faces, raised their fists as one and shouted something. Hairo nodded, though he didn’t think they saw him. In the Zones, you can usually see the air you’re breathing.
Willy and Hairo didn’t discuss what had happened; they’d talked it all over yesterday. ‘Hunters’ sometimes went to the Zones; successful citizens thirsting for adrenaline. They set up so-called ‘safaris,’ shooting the Wild Ones. There isn’t a sirigle animal left in the world that isn’t protected by law, Hairo thought bitterly. But you can shoot a whole village full of Wild Ones unpunished and get nothing but silent approval. It cannot be said that the Wild Ones were defenseless. Unlike the ‘hunters,’ they had nothing to lose; they fought tooth and nail. But knives and whips are no match for plasma rifles and machine-guns.
Hairo had learned yesterday of another ‘safari’ preparing to invade the Zone in which his friends lived. He couldn’t protect them; he risked being turned into an inwinova himself, if not worse. But he could support them with weapons…
For the next few hours, he and Willy patrolled a large area that included Cali Bottom and the Guyana Cesspit. The airwaves were quiet. The whole clan was responding to Nergal’s Summons—the event began that morning.
Willy was reading the latest news of Dis. Suddenly, he did a double—take.
“Something’s happened! Mary Mother of God… Hairo, look at this!”
Morales looked at his partners comm screen. The video showed the blessing ceremony at the temple square in Vermillion. The High Priest spread his arms, recited prayers. Bright waves emanated from him, covering the whole square. The crowd surged forward as the masses rushed to get closer to the blessing.
“Here, watch now!” Willy said excitedly.
For a few moments, the screen was filled with white. The cameraman fell and the colorful picture turned monochrome, but Hairo had enough time to notice bodies burning away to ash.
He went back to controlling the flyer, immersed in thoughts about the Threat. He was still waiting for an answer after agreeing to meet them. Willy continued to watch the videos flooding the net from the explosions in Bridger, Vermillion and Fort Smith, listened to eyewitness testimony. Then the speakers whined, and the partners heard the familiar voice of Joao, the security chief.
“Attention all patrols! Number One has declared a general assembly! Everyone get off your asses and get to the base now! That’s an order! Confirm receipt, over.”
Hairo grabbed the radio.
“Morales-Brizuela squad here, confirming, over.”
The voice of Vladimir, one of their colleagues, stood out from the series of answers from the other patrol groups.
“Boss, this is Krasnov-Kalinich. We’re far away. What’s going on?
Over.”
“Vlad, keep the channel clear! I repeat! Everyone back to base!”
“Don’t be an asshole, Joao!” Vladimir exploded. “We’re over Siberia! We’re checking out some Russian inwinovas! We got half the globe to traverse! What the hell is up?”
Joao sighed over the airwaves.
“Men… I don’t know the details, but it looks like the Threat has cooked the whole Alliance…”
Then the comm crackled. Hairo checked the message’s sender, looked at Willy. He understood without words. They’d both been waiting for the Threat’s response.
“Let me take the wheel.”
“3 PM/ET. Will wait five minutes today and tomorrow. Private room. Invite cipher attached” That was it. No signature, no return address. Flagged burn-after-reading.
Morales deleted the message, checked his watch. Only ten minutes to the set time—three in the afternoon, Eastern time.
“Descending, need a piss,” Hairo said.
When the flyer landed, he went outside, taking a VR helmet and manipulator gloves with him. He synchronized with the comm and pulled it toward him. A way to talk in a private room without a capsule.
He had to wait for the appointed time to arrive and the link to activate. The program activated. Hairo chose a default avatar and entered the room. The cryptoworld loaded instantly: an empty room with black walls. At the center was a small wooden table with a lamp. Two chairs next to it.
Using the gloves to control the avatar, Hairo walked to the table and ‘sat/ A couple of seconds later, a figure separated from the far wall; a young blond man, something from the base set of standard avatars.
“Hairo,” the boy nodded, sitting at the table. The voice sounded sweet, appropriate for the avatar, but the security officer didn’t let the soft voice fool him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”
“Thank you for the mil,” Morales chuckled. “All our units just got called in. They say someone blew up all the Alliance bosses. Your handiwork?”
“I w’on’t deny the obvious. Neither of us have much time, so let’s talk business. I’m sending a contract for a million phoenixes per year. My friends and I need security. We have funds.”
Hairo wanted to show off what he knew, point out what had the kid shook up: Sheppard was clearly the Threat. He was the only one that talked like this out of those five students—Hairo had carefully studied the dossier for each. Rodriguez and Lee had a different style of speech. Abdualim wouldn’t have risked the meeting. As for Melissa Schafer, she was still in the sandbox.
He wanted to, but… decided against it.
“What’s stopping me from just going on earning a million a week, instead of a year?”
“The fact that I won’t pay you any more. Your intel’s going out of date. I’m not planning on hiding much longer. I’m sick of it. But I don’t need extra attention either.”
“I get that… Why me?”
“I’ve studied your biography, the public part of it. Born and raised in Guyana, you lived through the war. A veteran many times honored. You lost your legs. Not only do you have friends in Cali Bottom, but I’ve heard tell of Hairo Morales. They say the Lobo can be trusted.”
Hairo’s breath caught. It was a good thing it didn’t show on his avatar. El Lobo, the
