Torn (Deep 8, #5)

40. Roger

FORTY

Roger

Things add up less than they did a couple of hours ago. No one knows anything about Deep 8 or its members. That means one of two things. They are a small but powerful group, or they are exceptional at hiding their identities.

We are no closer to finding my father than we were when he was first taken, and we have only two pieces of a puzzle, making it incomplete. We don’t even know what it’s for.

"Earth to Roger, come in Roger," Harlow’s voice breaks through my thoughts as she talks through her hand.

"Sorry, I’m starting to lose hope we’ll even find my father, let alone get him back alive. We don’t have Nick, and the pieces don’t make sense."

"I don’t think they are supposed to make sense to us. If we knew what it did, we would have the upper hand, and Deep 8 doesn’t want that." She’s clever, always thinking ahead.

We crest the hill with a view of Perth before sunrise. The city lights flicker and die, plunging the landscape into complete darkness. I check my cell phone. No service and the screen blinks on and off. A gold metallic robot head fills the screen, and I hold it up so Harlow can see it.

"Good morning, Australia. Welcome to our show. We are Deep 8, and you will get to know us very well. You may be wondering why everything is dark." The mask gets closer to the camera. "We own you. We have total control of the electric grid with the flip of a switch. In the coming months, you will rely on us for your every need from energy to medical. Free will is overrated. One world order serves everyone best." The screen goes black, and the electricity does not come back on.

Harlow continues to drive into town as people stream out of their homes, glancing at each other with growing unease. Panic has not set in yet, but it’s not far behind.

She pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. We have a key to our front door, but some people access their homes using an electronic security system. They won’t be able to get out if it’s locked, except through a window. Electric cars won’t be able to run as we transition and rely on more and more electricity, exactly what Deep 8 is banking on.

This was well thought out. They sat back and waited for Australia to be their guinea pig. Harlow and I have been severed from our teams. We don’t know where they are or how to find them, but we can’t make ourselves sitting ducks.

We walk in the door and lock it behind us, checking to make sure the windows and doors are secured. If panic arises, looting will be on the top of the list, depending on how long the power is out. Our ability to pivot has become second nature. The tide goes one way, and we follow close behind.

Harlow and I wrap ourselves around each other, watching the sunrise on the horizon. This side of the world becomes still as we collectively hold our breath, grateful the day will begin and bring light, a reminder there is very little in our control.

The silence breaks with chirping birds, without the usual background hum of motors running, phones ringing, or music thumping. We forget how keyed up we are in the electronic life we live. The constant hum of electricity and the bombardment of EMF is considered normal.

"Let’s go for a walk." Harlow smiles up at me.

Her hand fits perfectly in mine. We walk down the street, waving to other neighbors who have the same idea. There are smiles on their faces, a rare peace in not having to answer a phone, email, or text. At this moment, I don’t care much if our cover is blown. Dean’s contact claims everyone knows we’re in town.

"I guess Deep 8 has made themselves known. Now what?" Harlow’s flaxen hair blows around her face, caressing her cheeks.

"We wait for them to make the next move. Pippa and the gang should be scouting the area and have more information for us," I answer.

The hum of electricity breaks the silence as phones ring and buzz, and the air vibrates with invisible energy. Harlow and I walk back to the house. As soon as we’re in the door, our burner rings with Pippa on the other line.

"Let’s get on a secure video call." Pippa clicks off.

Harlow fires up the laptop, and Pippa’s face fills the screen with Peter over her shoulder. They’re in a tent, but both remain unflustered, the perks of life in the field and on the run. We fill them in on our meeting with Dean’s nameless asset. Silence greets us on the other end, and Pippa glances at Peter.

"Dean’s asset has impressive connections, and the fact she couldn’t identify any member of Deep 8 is alarming. However, the teams have done recon in Perth and Guilderton. They’ve come across an interesting—fortress." Pippa’s face turns grim.

"Fortress?" I ask. "As in medieval?"

"Peter sent drones out as decoys, and they got shot down. They don’t want visitors. Before you ask, the drones were recreational, not military. We’re saving those for later. We think this may be Deep 8’s home base. This place has heavy security, unusual for a building in the middle of nowhere. President Decker is allowing us to tap into the part of the NSA running the satellites over Australia. Using the images, we’ll have a better idea of the architecture of the building, inside and out."

"We can’t sit around here and do nothing. Harlow and I will scout the area on foot and try to get as close as possible to find weak spots." My leg bounces up and down.

Peter’s face comes into view. "No can do, amigo. We need you two to sit tight. We have Mac, Declan, and Campbell on site to do a preliminary recon on the area."

My fingers tighten in my hair until it hurts. Harlow places her hand on my knee. This is the first time I’ve shown her my keyed-up side. We’re so close to locating and rescuing my father. An extraction plan is the only thing missing to complete the mission.

"Romeo out." I grin as I see Pippa and Peter roll their eyes.

"Romeo?" Harlow giggles and then stands, putting one hand over her heart and the other over her forehead. "‘O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.’ How’s that for a little Shakespeare?" She cocks one eyebrow.

Her question is not about where I am, but rather who I am. A question I’ve asked myself for many years. "At one point, I wanted to change my last name from Bane to McPherson. My father shunned me so much, I didn’t feel worthy of his last name.

"This journey has led me to understand that my perceptions were manipulated. I’m a decorated soldier and have been on missions I’ll never be able to discuss with anyone. That’s more than I can say for him unless he single-handedly takes down Deep 8. Maybe then we’ll be even."

She strokes my cheek, but her eyes don’t sparkle like they usually do. "You’re right, but you’re more than a decorated soldier. You’re an Army Ranger. Just becoming one was a feat."

I turn toward her. "By the way, did you just propose to me? I prefer that you get down on one knee, and I would take your name or hyphenate it, whichever you prefer."

She stands up, puts her hands on her hips, and juts out her chin. "In your dreams, McPherson. That proposal will have to come from you."

She turns and struts out of the room. I’m right behind her like a puppy. It occurs to me I might have to follow her to the ends of the earth.