“Don’t say that,” Preston said, “Keep pushing. We’ll get there.”
When they hit the beginning of the long incline their pace slowed considerably. Noke’s pallor was fading, and each breath was a raspy feat of willpower. His occasional steps became more perfunctory. He could no longer bear his own weight.
They reached a layered outcropping of rock elevated above the main path. Noke said, “Here. Stop here.”
Owen and Preston gladly dropped Noke for a moment’s rest. They all drank from their canteens. Noke’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, and his head was bobbing back and forth as if he was singing some inaudible tune. Owen and Preston shared a grim look.
“Climb up on the rock, keep low and look down,” Noke said, returning to coherence, his eyes barely open.
Owen and Preston scrambled up and looked back the way they came. They were high enough that they could see a fair distance into the valley. The patch of clearing that the satellite had crashed in was even visible.
“There!” Preston said, pointing at some barely visible movement in the forest. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a number of Essentialists were skulking through the woods.
Preston and Owen scrambled off the rock back to where Noke was sitting.
“How many?” Noke asked.
“I don’t know,” Preston said, “Maybe a dozen. Could be fifty. It’s hard to say.”
“Should we try to take them out?” Owen asked. “We could definitely hit a few of them before they got to cover. It might scare them away, or at least slow them down.”
“Right idea, but that’s not what you’re gonna do.” Noke was still speaking with his eyes mostly closed, concentrating on warding off inner demons. “You’re going to lift me up on the rock. I’ll hold them off, and then I’ll find a place to hide. You go. You go as…” He grimaced and breathed a few quick breaths, then continued. “As fast as you can. Get me later, if you can.”
Owen said, “no way. You’re coming with us.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Noke said, his eyes widening. “It’s the only chance you have. You should’ve left me earlier.”
Owen looked at Preston. Preston returned a reluctant nod.
They lifted Noke up on the rock and helped him into position. Moving off the rock would be difficult for Noke. It was hard to imagine him being nimble enough to do so with his injuries.
Owen had a feeling Noke never intended to get off.
“One more thing,” Noke rasped. He took a small purse from his pack. “Take this, and…” His words hung for a moment as he collected himself. “And give it to the owner. Find the owner. I never should’ve taken it.”
Owen opened the purse to reveal a copy of a talisman for a man named Duncan Jones. The letters stenciled on the talisman were in the older fonts from decades ago. The talisman featured an eagle with flames behind a log cabin in the woods. Was it a relative of Noke’s? He couldn’t be sure, and there was no time to ask questions.
Preston said eagerly, “You have our word. You’re a hero, Noke—a hero of the Spoke people. We’ll come back for you.”
Noke cast them a deadly look. “Go,” he said.
They did go. They left Noke as he loaded and fired at the oncoming Essentialists. They heard at least thirty rifle shots echoing in the valley.
Owen and Preston were finally able to make good progress up the mountain. When there was a break in the trees Owen looked down, but he couldn’t see any sign of Noke or the Essentialists. They did spot another Essentialist group moving up the hill on the south side, looking to cut them off, but they had a ways to go. As long as Owen and Preston kept pressing on they should be able to stay ahead.
There was still plenty of adrenaline coursing through Owen’s veins. In the excitement the stiffness in his legs had vanished. They pushed and pushed up the mountain. Owen was a faster climber. He pulled Preston up some of the steeper slopes.
The shooting stopped.
Had they taken Noke? Had Noke gone into hiding? It only made them push harder. They were possessed, in a frenzy, running for their lives.
Eventually they could see the Spoke outposts on the ridge, peaking up above the trees. When close enough, they stepped onto an exposed crest jutting from the hillside and gestured to the outposts for help using their red signal flags. Then they kept pushing upward.
It wasn’t until the Spoke ranger party met them that they slowed their pace. After a brief explanation to the rangers, they continued on. And then, when they finally touched the staunch wood timbers of the outpost tower itself, exhaustion began to take hold. Owen’s legs began to seize up. He had to massage them to keep them limber.
After hearing their report, the outpost rangers assigned them to one of the tents set back from the outpost tower. Preston went to the tent right away, but Owen forced himself to stay alert. He was looking down onto the valley, trying to see any sign of Noke. The view was breathtaking. In fact, it was exactly what he’d hoped to see that morning, but the circumstances made it seem stark and desolate. Knowing Jakson was down there, murdered—that Cecile was missing and most likely Noke dead as well—it was hard to find beauty in the undulating hills or autumn leaves.
He waited and waited, but eventually came to terms with the fact that he might not know the outcome of the search for many hours. He succumbed to the needs of his body, stumbling over to the tent. There exhaustion fully claimed him and he rapidly drifted off into slumber.
THE WALLFLOWER
When the talking heads would drone on about important financial metrics or rate-limiting elements on the critical path of an obscure best practices project, Axel could only half pay attention. Besides, he was just a wallflower at these board meetings. Aside from citing budgetary numbers or staffing needs for security obligations, he rarely said a word.
While keeping one ear tuned in to the conversation, he spent time shuffling through the pages of his report to Bhavin. It was an analysis of threats to public safety, a budget proposal, and near-term recommendations. Axel was surprised Bhavin had asked for this as a first assignment. He’d assumed he’d been hired because they had detail on some specific threats, but instead they had asked him to research some specific threat areas.
Axel had sent the analysis to Bhavin a week ago and not received a response of any kind.
Somewhat vexing was the fact that Axel wasn’t permitted direct access to all of the intelligence-gathering systems at Nadar Corporation’s disposal. He had to work through Grant Markovsky, a pseudo-genius with encyclopedic knowledge and mastery of many diverse technical fields. When he wasn’t leading some of the more covert software development activities, Grant acted like a sort of limbic system to Bhavin, following him around and answering his often-tangential questions with ease and precision.
Despite this challenge, Axel marveled at even the limited intelligence resources he had available to him. In many ways it surpassed the CIA and NSA. They were able to use a number of finder-seeker computer viruses that could penetrate deep into foreign networks without leaving a trace. Using this system, and with Grant’s help, Axel was able to identify at least one specific and actionable threat for his report. It was a long-term risk, but definitely fell into something Nadar Corporation could have a hand in mitigating.
A research lab in Singapore had identified a method of eliminating a pre-disposition to several forms of cardiovascular disease by using a CRISPR gene-editing technique, but according to their consultant scientist, the method harbored downstream risks. More specifically, there was a high probability of off-target effects that were initially benign, but that would lead to mutations in the genome. According to a simulation Grant’s team had developed, the mutations increased in probability and severity with each subsequent generation and would become deadly to a large proportion of people in the third or fourth generation.