Vol. III Chapter 27 “Parasympathetic entanglement.” (Part 2 of 2)

Rosie helped Virgil repair his arm, temporarily costing Janey hers. Leaving her an alarmingly eighty five percent combat effective. John had been dispatched north with Charlie to find an old vehicle. A specific one he'd already forgotten the name of.

The walk gave John time to familiarise himself with the new system. No longer confined to moments of extreme stress, he could access it at will. Real time data on his health, stamina, even the bullets in his pistol. All of it displayed inside his eyes. He shut it off, wondering how Rosie put up with it.

Rain lashed straight down, leaving the soft earth as sticky mud. Still, his borrowed coat kept him dry.

"How you feeling?" Charlie asked as they walked.

"Fine." John answered without thinking. "I mean, I am fine." He knew what Charlie meant.

"How did it feel?" She asked, her physician's mind at work.

"Like being Remembered in Steel. Alive." The memory sent a shiver down his spine.

"Fuck." Charlie stopped and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." John started walking again, trying to put the thought out of his head.

The forest began to thin, the ground turning to concrete. Once neat rows of parked cars had been twisted out of place by roots and the shifting earth. "This one." Charlie called out. "Corvega Atomic V Eight, two door. A modern classic. Let's get started."

John smashed the grimy window with his multi-tool, reaching through and yanking the rear view mirror free. The wrench like tool with a hammerhead attachment knocked the wing mirrors clean off. While Charlie used her black dagger to pop off the accents on the fins.

Next John loosened the nuts on the wheel, while Charlie cut the tire free from the spare wheel in the boot. "You ready?" Charlie asked. John took off his coat, stretching his arms.

"Ready." John crouched at the back of the car, finding his grip on the chassis. With a deep breath, John strained, slowly lifting the car. Charlie rolled the wheel rim into place under the axel and drew back. He lowered the car down slowly, savouring every second of the lift.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you." Charlie had a knowing grin. "You and my Paul, any excuse to lift something heavy."

After some gentle encouragement from the hammer, John smashed the brake disc to bits and retrieved the calliper.

An hour of rain soaked trudging brought them back to the lake. Angled camo sheets tied between trees gave them a welcome respite. Brandon gave him a mug of hot coffee, inviting him to sit in the canvas and steel chairs. He heard Rosie bickering with Virgil as they approached.

"How long have they been arguing?" John asked under his breath.

"Since you left." Brandon lit a cigarette. "Followed about a third of it." Brandon seemed happier knocking rust of lengths of rebar pulled from the edge of the lake. John shifted to help but Brandon stopped him with a raised hand. "Eat something."

Brandon pointed to a backpack filled with food. He took two of the pre war pouch meals, standard Brotherhood issue, and loathed by nearly everyone but him. He shook two of the pouches, much to Brandon's amusement. "Sara teach you that."

"Yeah." He missed his friend and mentor. Her step father hadn't seen her in years. John shook the pouch again, still unsure. "Chilli." John half guessed, cracking the bottom to start the self heating. He held it to warm his hands, another thing Sara taught him.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a personal stake in this." Brandon sounded conflicted. "I'm not going to order you or Rosie to go in. We're past all that now."

"I'll go in." John felt confident he could handle it. "Rosie can make her own choice."

"You trust him?" Brandon's tone suggested he didn't trust Virgil. "I know you share blood, but in my experience that doesn't mean much to them."

"I trust that we want the same thing." John's time above ground had taught him painful lessons about who to trust.

"Sometimes that can be enough. Sometimes it's not." Brandon took a small, rectangular block from his pocket. He pressed a button and a blade slid from the front. "Some sort of space age alloy." The blade had a texture like frozen smoke. Brandon dragged it across the rebar, leaving a gouge in the metal. "Supposedly cuts through anything. Can't say if it'll cut through whatever it is you've got implanted. But body armour, a throat, eyes." He retracted the blade and handed the knife to John.

As he slid the knife into his boot, John remembered a tradition Sara taught him. He pulled a single cap from his pocket and offered it Brandon. "Lest it cut the friendship, right?" John smiled as he saw Brandon understand.

"I taught Sara that when I gave her that switchblade." Brandon took the cap, placing it carefully in his top pocket. "You're a good man John Blake." Brandon's compliment sounded like a warning.

"You get it?" Virgil asked, Rosie fuming at his back. John pointed to the heavy sack of metal with his spork, enjoying his chilli. Virgil tipped the sack out, picking through car parts. "This'll work." He took the calliper and went to hand it to Rosie. "Carve some long thin strips off that."

"Why?" Rosie pouted, arms folded across her chest. John could tell from her demeanour, and Brandon's muttered cursing, that this had been the crux of the bickering.

"Because I have four doctorates, and you have a library card." Virgil dropped the calliper with a wet thud, enjoying himself.

"I'm not doing another fucking thing till you tell me why." Rosie's frustration had got the better of her. John came to her aid.

"We're making thermite charges, right? Aluminium and rust, burns underwater and melts steel." He started thinking out loud. "We can melt the aluminium in the fire. And the calliper is magnesium, for the fuse." That seemed to diffuse things. For a moment.

"See that." Virgil rasped at Rosie. "And he doesn't even have a library card." She froze for half a second, unclipped her weapon belt, and strode at Virgil.

"Captain Powell." Brandon's infrequent use of her name and rank stopped her dead. "Take a lap, double time." Rosie wouldn't disrespect Brandon and took off running to clear her head.

"She's an exceptionally bright young woman." Virgil's praise threw them. "And she knows it." John couldn't argue with that, but he didn't like to see her provoked.

"You know Rosie and I were lied to our whole lives. Asking why got us a day in organic recyc." He saw Virgil knew what that meant. "So why don't you stop winding her up to amuse yourself." John felt his jaw clench and hands become fists.

"Fair enough kid." Virgil relented.

Rosie returned five minutes later, the menial task done by John. Crushed car parts melting in a ceramic mug in the heart of the fire. "You two should start the hyper oxygenation protocol." Virgil suggested. "It should be under tactical."

"I got it." Rosie found the protocol and started it, as did John. They began to breathe slowly, deeply, drawing breath to the bottom of the diaphragm.

"We go in through a flooded launch tube." Virgil talked through the way in. "There's two vents cut into it, one takes cold, dirty water in. The other puts out warm, cleaner water. We go in and out the same way." He turned back. "It's freezing, dark, claustrophobic. The cold water intake intersects with a sealed room in the living quarters. We'll breach the door with the thermite, seal the next room to stop it flooding. From there we can access the lab and stockroom."

"If we can't get what we need," Virgil continued. "We'll have to check the sublevel. That means more time underwater which means you might need a dose of Radaway half way through. And you're sure as shit going to need it when you get out."

"I can handle this." John lent in close to Rosie, offering her an out he knew she wouldn't take.

"I'm fine." She lied, subtly giving the enemy in range signal. "We're ready." Rosie stood, pulling up the suit hood, and pressing the angular face plates into position. John did up his borrowed fatigues, green not black, and strapped his pistol tight.

"Just so you know," Brandon closed in on Virgil. "The major here is of the opinion the only good ghoul is a dead ghoul." Charlie made a point of gearing up loudly. "Major, take two teams, infiltrate the Ghoulhouse and await orders."

"Yes sir." Charlie moved out, giving orders through her radio.

"They don't come out of there the same way they went in, I'll turn her loose." Brandon's threat made no visible difference to Virgil.

"Last chance to call it off." Virgil waited, hoping. Rosie didn't flinch, neither did John. Virgil turned, wading into the lake. "Abandon all hope ye who enter here."