Unborn Page 2

  “It’s empty, Agent Jennings,” one of her techs said. “It looks like they bailed out.”

  Emma nodded and stepped past him, as she wanted to see the car for herself.

  The car’s front end was crumpled up almost into the front passenger seat, with smoke still pluming from the destroyed machine. Even though the car was dead, she could see something was still applying pressure to the gas pedal.

  A peek in the backseat revealed less carnage, yet more information. Emma saw the middle seat belt was buckled. There would be no reason for that, unless someone had been sitting there, and then was suddenly gone.

  “Dammit,” she swore, stepping back. “They did it. They completed the Shift.”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” a voice said behind her. “You always get so invested.”

  Emma spun on her toes, her face tense with rage.

  “Maybe if you invested a little more, we could have prevented this,” she hissed.

  Michael Sapien shrugged off Emma’s verbal assault and turned half away from her.

  “We tried. If we tried harder, we might have won, sure. Or we could have lost lives, Emma. There’s more than one way to see this.”

  When Emma didn’t reply, Michael started to walk back to his SUV.

  “There’s more than just winning,” he said. “Yeah, we need a victory. But not at any cost. I’ll see you back in the states.”

  Emma let him go. She was too furious to argue, especially when she was armed.

  *********

  At first, there was nothing. And it scared Bernard out of his nonexistent mind.

  He was floating, gliding. In nothing. There was no temperature, no air. There was nothing to feel, to sense.

  Only his thoughts kept him company.

  Was he dead? Did it not work? Was this the afterlife he was doomed to for his sins?

  Bernard always imagined Hell was a fiery burning pit, thanks to modern religion and film.

  But this was much worse. Worse than he could have ever feared.

  Time didn’t exist. It could have been a minute or an eon, and he wouldn’t have known.

  He feared madness would soon set in, not that it would matter. It was a better alternative to nothing.

  But soon, gradually, he felt a sensation of falling, a rush to someplace, something new.

  He didn’t care what it was, even if it was the end of his consciousness.

  Anything was better than absolute nothing.

  Three weeks later…

  “Push!” the doctor cried. “We’re almost there!”

  Annette screamed and pushed, clutching her husband’s hand with a vice-like grip.

  Only a few moments later, a newborn baby’s cry subdued the rest of the room’s noise.

  “Congratulations,” the doctor said as he hoisted the infant for everyone to see. “It’s a healthy baby boy.”

  Annette cried tears of joy, and her husband hugged her close.

  The baby was wiped down and wrapped in a blanket as its cries began to soften, and when he was placed in his mother’s arms, his eyes fluttered open ever so slightly.

  “Look at him,” Annette whispered after a soft smile spread across her face. “He’s so handsome.”

  The infant’s eyes seemed to scan the room, before locking onto the gaze of his mother and father.

  The baby managed a smile and a small coo, one that almost sounded like a laugh. His mother would forever remember that moment as a sign of her beautiful son’s intelligence, but his father, instead, would be eternally curious about his son’s unusual behavior.

  And Bernard, in his new infant body, didn’t cry the rest of the evening.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Damn this early shift,” Cam grumbled as he locked his apartment door.

  His poorly insulated one-bedroom dwelling barely shielded him from the cold, and the hallway was even worse. Cam tugged down his beanie even farther over his ears and buried his gloved hands in his pockets.

  The trot down the stairs did warm him a little, but as soon as he emerged into the frozen Boston air, any warmth Cam generated was quickly sapped away.

  Cam involuntary shivered. “Fucking parole. Requiring me to go to work at this hour, and cold.”

  “Oh, sugar, I can fix that for you,” a voice purred from behind.

  Cam let out a small laugh before he turned around. “I’m sure you could, Bambi. You walking these cold-ass streets, or on your way back?”

  “Oh, just coming back from a date,” Bambi said with a wink and a smile. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here. No way in hell I’m getting all dressed up just to freeze. I make them call me now.”

  “Smart girl,” Cam grinned. “Maybe one day I can actually afford you.”

  “Please, I’d give you a discount,” she said as she casually spread her arms, accenting her entire body. “If I thought you could handle this.”

  “Another time; need to get to the hover. Can’t be late, you know how it is.”

  “Of course, sugar,” Bambi said. “Don’t get in trouble. Neighborhood wouldn’t be the same if you went away again.”

  With a lopsided grin, Cam turned and left. After a few steps, he decided jogging seemed like a good idea, and soon the frigid winter weather was almost bearable. The streets were all but empty save the glowing holo-ads, only a few cars on the road, and a handful of scattered businessmen making their way to the hover.

  None of those people seemed to even notice their surroundings, and Cam’s mind instantly returned to old habits: how easy it would be to take their expensive jackets, cellphones, and fat wallets. They wouldn’t see him coming; a quick blow to the back of the head, and it was dark enough he could disappear before they knew he was there.

  He wouldn’t even have to hide his face. The other businessmen probably wouldn’t care, lost in their own isolated worlds, unless they happened to trip over the victim.

  And then they would only care if they weren’t late for their train.

  Cam stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. These thoughts were dangerous. He had two strikes, a third would mean life in prison. One bad word from his parole officer and he’d be sent back; he didn’t need to risk adding a mugging to his rap sheet.

  Lowering his head, Cam pressed on to the hover station. He had to stop thinking like that, stop trying to figure out why everything in his life felt out of place, felt wrong. Acceptance, no matter how little he had, was the only way to stay free, to stay alive.

  Once in the station, the automated displays showed his train wasn’t far. He gave himself credit for timing it well, glad he wouldn’t have much longer with his thoughts.

  His old life was toxic, and keeping busy was the only way to keep those poisonous ideas and memories at bay.

  The hover ride was mostly empty and uneventful. Cam stared out the window at the bright neon city lights, choosing to occupy his vision with something outside the hover train. What few travelers rode with him were glued to their phones and gadgets, paying no mind to the world around them.

  “Sheep,” he muttered as he stepped off the hover. “They would march to the slaughter without looking up.”

  **********

  Even though he was early for his shift, several of his coworkers had beaten him to the yard. A handful were huddled around a barrel fire just inside the construction yard, trying to stay warm.

  That didn’t surprise Cam. He wasn’t the only person who had reasons to keep in good standing with this job. There were a few others needing it for parole, but many were simply down on their luck, and wanted to make sure their families had a warm place to sleep and food in the evening.

  Times were tough. Cam sometimes wondered why more of them didn’t turn to crime to make ends meet, but when the poor steal from the broke, the only result is pain and suffering.

  “Morning,” Cam said as he joined them.

  A chorus of mumbles greeted him in return, and a few of the men made an opening for him near the warmth.
<
br />   “Anyone know what floor we’re on today?” Cam asked. He extended his hands to warm them around the fire, and was glad to have the relief from the cold.

  “Fifty-seventh,” one of the men, Lloyd, answered. “Mag boots should be just about charged. A few more floors and we’ll be done with this building’s steel.”

  “Thank God,” another one said. “I swear the pair I was wearing yesterday felt a little loose. And I doubt management is going to pay for new ones anytime soon.”

  A round of grunts echoed the statement. Cam knew no one could justify defending management’s decision to skimp on gear, especially when they were close to being complete.

  The men stood there for about fifteen minutes, making small talk and absorbing as much of the fire’s heat as they could before the foreman showed up.

  “All right, enough standing around,” the foreman, a self-serving ass named Henry, said by way of greeting. He constantly pushed his workers beyond the point of exhaustion to make some sort of deadline only he seemed to know about, but no one dared complain to his face about it.

  Cam knew that Henry was like everyone else, only trying to make ends meet. But he appeared to enjoy the power he held, being able to work everyone into weariness, which made Cam worry that if he ever found Henry in the shadows of the city, he may not be able to hold back.

  He had to stop thinking that way. The thoughts were becoming more frequent, and Cam worried it was only a matter of time before he acted on them.

  Shaking his head, he got his pair of mag boots and slid them on, making sure they were nice and secure around both his feet and shins. He then took the power switch for each boot and looped it around his belt, where they were easily in reach of either hand. To finish setting up the boots, he connected the cables from both power switches, allowing them to both connect and communicate with each other.

  That last set of cables made these boots truly impressive to use. Without it, Cam would have to activate and deactivate each individual boot each time he wanted to walk across the steel girders and beams. But that connection, allowing both boots to essentially talk to one another, gave the devices the ability to know when one foot was secure, allowing the other to disengage and take a step.

  It was slow moving, but it allowed them to keep their balance and safety fifty-seven stories above the frozen Boston ground without having to give it much thought.

  And as long as the boots kept their charge, it kept them alive.

  Cam, Lloyd, Henry, and a handful of others rode the crane to the top to begin their day’s labor in silence, the morning sun finally starting to break through the cracks in the city’s other skyscrapers. The men complained of the cold and attempted other small talk, but Cam lost himself as their ride slowly carried them into the sky.

  Each time he went up, the majestic view distracted him from everything wrong in his life. And reminded him how out of place he felt. Seeing the city from up high always made him feel like he was meant for something else, meant for something more than petty crimes and construction work for pennies.

  Cam couldn’t explain that feeling, no matter how many times he tried. Everyone else seemed to just accept the hand they were dealt; Cam felt like he had been dealt the wrong one, and whenever he attempted a new one it just got worse.

  The work was menial, but required his entire concentration. Cam may have dreaded showing up for work, but when he was on the job the hours flew by. Before he knew it, it was time for lunch. The workers each found a spot on the thawing steel, the bodies warm from the work.

  “Hey, Boss,” Lloyd said as he joined them, “something’s wrong with my boots. I think one of the magnets isn’t getting enough juice, or something.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Henry said, not making eye contact with his subordinate. “We’ve got deadlines.”

  Lloyd kept his mouth shut, but Cam noticed his glare said more than words ever could.

  This wasn’t the first time their gear had issues. They were already down several pairs of mag boots, with the company they worked for not all that prompt on replacing them. The usual problem was the battery wearing out, and on short, cloudy days their solar chargers were all but useless.

  Everyone was certain that if the government didn’t require companies to use the boots, their employer wouldn’t even provide them for the workers. They’d probably demand everyone bring their own safety gear, or even send people dozens of floors up with nothing.

  Cam wouldn’t have been surprised if Lloyd gave Henry a big fuck-off and left, but the man had a wife and three kids; not an easy thing to care for on a construction worker’s wage. Yet it was better than having nothing, and the man was determined to make sure his family didn’t go hungry.

  And it was difficult to not respect that. Cam had his own struggles, but could never fault a man willing to do whatever it takes for their family. He decided to keep an eye on Lloyd for the rest of the shift, and work closer to him.

  The short winter day wore on, and soon the sun was setting over the buildings. It wasn’t just Cam who allowed himself a moment to watch the beautiful sight. Every man up there pressed pause on their task, even Henry took a break from barking orders.

  “Back to it, guys,” Henry shouted after a few moments. “We’re almost out of light and warmth, and—Ah, shit!”

  The sound of flesh hitting steel demanded Cam’s focus, and he turned just in time to see Henry tumble off the beam he had been standing on.

  Every man stared in horror as Henry fell, his leg smacking against the beam a floor below, then his arms managing to wrap themselves on the next beam down.

  “Boss!” Lloyd called.

  “Help!” Henry cried. “I’m slipping!”

  Everyone exchanged panicked glances, no one knowing what to do.

  Everyone except Cam, that is.

  Looking back, he wasn’t sure of what he was thinking, or if he had been thinking at all. Cam switched off his boots and ran along the beam toward where Henry had fallen, almost sprinting on the narrow surface.

  He reached the edge and used his velocity to swing to the other side of the vertical beam, and before Cam knew it, he was looking straight down at the ground below. He was almost horizontal before he reactivated his boots, and despite his boots’ attempts to secure his feet to the side of the beam, he managed to use his momentum to run down the side.

  Cam was familiar enough with the boots to know it would never have worked to walk down the side of the beams, but running, running he always wondered if it would be possible.

  And now he knew.

  “I can’t hang on!” Henry hollered.

  Cam could only see Henry out of the corner of his eye. He cleared the first floor quickly, but by the time he was reaching the floor Henry was hanging from, he could feel his boots’ magnetic pull start to restrict his movement.

  He had to correct his position before his boots locked him into place, and soon.

  But when Cam was level with Henry, Henry’s weakened grip gave out, and he fell out into open space.

  There was no time to get upright, and there was no way Cam could run fast enough to catch Henry.

  Only one option remained to save the man’s life.

  On his next step, Cam coiled down into his supporting leg and, when his moving leg was underneath him, he killed the power to his boots and launched himself into open space, diving after Henry.

  It took another floor’s distance of falling, but Cam reached Henry and caught him in a tackle, latching his arms around his boss.

  When Henry’s grip around him was firm, Cam reactivated his boots and felt their power pull toward the steel, and soon, the pair found themselves latched to the frame of the building.

  Even though he was hanging upside down, Cam had a solid hold on Henry. Solid enough that he was able to hang on while Lloyd and everyone else from a few floors up rode the lift down and helped both men down.

  “You … you saved me,” Henry finally managed to say, his body still shaking. �
��Why?”

  “You’re a jackass,” Cam said with a half-smile. “But that’s not reason enough for you to die. Or for your kids to grow up without their dad.”

  Henry considered his words for a long minute, looking at the man who saved his life.

  Then an enormous grin formed on his face, and he let out a loud laugh.

  “Come on, we’re done here,” Henry said as he slapped Cam on the shoulder. “I owe you a drink. Hell, I owe you all drinks.”

  **********

  On their way down the building and all the way to the bar, Cam’s daring rescue was all anyone talked about. It only grew as they met up with the ground crew, who had seen their own version of events.

  But even though he had saved his supervisor’s life, it was the moment of action that meant the most to Cam.

  When he wasn’t thinking, when he was running along the beams and down the side of the building, Cam hadn’t felt so alive in years. He reacted, listening only to his instinct, and he saved a man’s life while risking his own.

  They both should have died, but instead, Henry was buying him round after round.

  It defied logic, both men sitting here, enjoying beers with their coworkers.

  “To Cam!” Henry cried as the latest round was poured.

  “To Cam!” everyone else echoed.

  He wasn’t used to such praise, and the only thing that felt like the correct response was to clink his glass with everyone else and smile ear to ear. The last time he was the toast of any celebration was after a heist several years ago, where he deftly maneuvered a car through Boston and saved him, his crew, and their payload.

  And now that he was being celebrated for his selfless act, maybe the first one in his life, he enjoyed it, even though he knew it would be fleeting and forgotten before long.

  After two drinks Cam slowed down, and began to nurse his beverage while everyone else continued to drink their fill. Soon Cam only had a slight buzz, while his companions were cheering their drunkenness.