Chapter 42:
The Wake of It

Kai was gone when Jack woke up the next morning. That should have told him something, but he was too busy trying not to let it get to him. He tried to take it in stride, and was partially successful. Only partially. Against his own better judgment, he’d become attached to the guy, even though either one could disappear at any moment. One of them had.

Jack found it odd that he couldn’t quite picture Kai’s face, even after spending weeks trapped together in an empty room, and it troubled him. He felt heartless for not remembering. Inhuman. He decided that Kai must have had the single most forgettable face in the world. It was the only rational explanation.

Even though Jack and God were on the outs again, he said a small prayer for his doughy-faced Finnish friend and hoped for the best. Then he went back to his routine of merciless exercise, and tried to think nothing else of it. He was partially successful in that as well. Working himself to slobbering exhaustion certainly helped.

Then, shortly after his dinner meal, the inexplicable happened. Jack was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, and the opposite wall melted away like a sheet of ice suddenly hit by a blast furnace.

The fascist alien interrogator stood in the opening.

Jack didn’t waste any time. His opportunity had come. The one he’d been training for. He propelled himself up from the ground and scrambled toward the enemy, fists swinging. His first blow landed with a loud crack and the alien’s head jerked to the side. The second fist crashed into the alien’s gut, and it felt like hitting concrete.

Even in his blind fury, Jack realized he wasn’t having any effect. The alien stood unperturbed, no more wounded than if Jack had splashed him with lukewarm water. It was the most insulting thing possible. It made Jack feel weak and powerless.

“Why won’t you fight back?” he growled. His arm tightened and exploded, charged with every last ounce of his strength. “Fight me!”

The alien shrugged the blow off just as he had the others. “Don’t you think I’ve hurt you enough?” he asked.

Jack didn’t quite know how to answer that. The alien had hurt him more than enough, but this wasn’t how he imagined things turning out. In his dreams, they would clash and fight like savage animals, only to perish with their hands at each other’s throats.

“I offer you two options,” the interrogator said, “Kill me if you like. I won’t resist. Or I can lead you out of this place. You will not escape without my assistance. The choice is yours.”

Escape. The mere thought of it hurt. Jack had banished that idea from his mind so long ago he couldn’t even imagine it anymore. This had to be some kind of trap, but what if it wasn’t?

“Why?” The word barely escaped his mouth.

“There’s no time to explain right now. I’ll answer your questions once we’re outside, but we must leave now. Decide, Jack Hernandez.” The alien held out Jack’s handgun, handle first, and offered it to him.

Jack snatched the gun out of the alien’s gloved hand, pulled back the slide and inspected the chamber. There was a copper jacketed round sitting inside. He released the slide and it clacked back into place, then he raised the gun up and placed it against the interrogator’s head.

The alien didn’t so much as twitch.

Jack’s finger slid to the trigger. The metal was cool to the touch. It begged for him to do it. It cried out for Jack to end the miserable creature’s existence, so he could never hurt anyone again.

Jack lowered the gun.

“I hope you made the right decision,” the interrogator said.

“So do I.”

The alien stepped aside and motioned to a pile of clothes against the wall. “I brought your things. Dress quickly, then follow me. We must leave while the guard detail is being changed.”

It took Jack less than thirty seconds to discard his dirty rags and climb back into his underclothes and jumpsuit. In another ten, his holsters and duty pack were fastened and the assault rifle was slung across his back. He felt like a different man. He felt a bit like himself again.

He slid the handgun into its holster and said, “Let’s go.”

The interrogator led a winding route through the building, passing huge blocks honeycombed with cells just like Jack’s. The hallways were empty, and the guard stations abandoned. The creature ran effortlessly, and Jack struggled just to keep up.

They reached the rooftop, and Jack was struck with vertigo. The great blue city stretched out in all directions, and he felt lost, dizzy and nauseous all at the same time. He buckled over and started breathing deeply.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack said as he stood back up. “Been cooped up in a shoe box too long. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“You must recover quickly. We’re not yet in the clear.”

The rooftop was circular, with stables around the outside housing open-topped flyers, each attached to a hose full of greenish fluid. “You gonna fly one of these things?”

The interrogator shook his head. “No. I am unable to operate Yuon Kwon.”

“So it’s a dead-end then. What the hell?”

“You must fly it.”

“Come again?” Jack asked incredulously.

“Your species possesses all of the organs necessary to interface with Yuon Kwon.”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense,” Jack said.

“I wish I could disagree with you.” The interrogator turned and jogged toward one of the flyers and waved Jack on with his hand. “Come. We must hurry, Jack.”

Jack followed. They climbed into the flyer, the inside of which was much like the walker Jack had inspected in the field. After a moment, he noticed a distinct difference, though. This one was alive. The walls were warm to the touch, and when he reached out to touch it, the creature cooed.

“Hurry.”

“What? How do I do this?”

“Climb into the pilot’s cradle. It will adjust to you, and…”

“And what?”

“I’m not sure. If we’re lucky, you’ll figure it out. We must hurry, or we won’t make the rendezvous.”

Jack stepped to the front where the empty cradle hung open. If this was all an intricate trap, Jack could imagine easier ways for the interrogator to kill him.

He rolled up his sleeves and slowly lowered himself in. The inside was warm and humid, with a musky odor that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It reminded Jack of reaching into an open wound. Then it quivered and cinched down tight, while insectoid arms gripped him around the midsection.

“This is disgusting.” His voice was muffled.

“Jack…”

“I don’t know what do.”

Something flashed, and Jack had blind spots like he’d just looked at the sun. He blinked his eyes and tried to clear them. There was another flash more intense than the first. “Something’s happening,” he said.

When the third flash struck, Jack experienced something strange. The strangest thing in his life. Even weirder than his stint with those mushrooms. He touched another creature’s mind and saw through its eyes.

“It’s working,” he thought he said. He wasn’t sure if he said it or thought it. Things had gotten messy.

“Can you get us airborne?” The interrogator’s voice had a weird echo.

“I think so,” he said, and then he made it happen. Jack felt the fin around the edge of himself spin up, the cycling sound filling the air, and the flyer climbed out of its stall. The attached hose tugged back for a moment, but its connector snapped away and he was free.

“Good. Now take us toward those towers, then head left and follow traffic until we reach the edge of the city.”

Jack was overwhelmed. He was flying. It all had to be dream. He was still lying on the floor of his prison cell, and none of this was real.

So he approached it as a dream, and he flew. He flew free, jetting through traffic and banking through the air. He darted between the other flyers, and flipped a quick barrel roll.

“Calm down, Jack. You’re going to attract attention if you keep this up.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he slid back into traffic like a good little boy. After a few minutes of travel, he reached the city’s end and slid back out of traffic and into open skies. Out into freedom.

If this was a dream, Jack never wanted to wake up.