Susan shook her head, watching the soldiers through her binoculars. Was she ready for this? Those men had families. They had names.
And if they took this ReBirth, innocent people might lose their names and their faces and everything else.
Susan opened the flip phone, and held her finger over the button. “I’m in. Just … don’t hurt anyone unless you have to.”
“Bomb two is ready,” said Larry. “Everyone check in.”
“Ready,” said Tony/Cynthia.
“Ready,” said Susan.
“My men are ready, too,” said Larry. “Give us a countdown and blow the generators.”
“All right, then,” said Susan. “Let’s betray our country. Three, two, one.” She pressed the button, and listened as the phone beeped softly.
Nothing exploded.
“You’re supposed to push the button at the end of the countdown,” said Larry.
“I did!”
“They’re closing the trucks,” said Tony/Cynthia. “We’ve got to do something.”
“Call the bomb again,” said Larry. “Maybe it just hasn’t gone through yet.”
“I’ve called it twice,” said Susan, her fingers stabbing madly at the flip phone’s keypad. “It won’t connect—what kind of useless cell plan did you buy that doesn’t have service in the only place we actually need the phone to work!”
“Stop shouting!” said Larry. “They’re going to hear us!”
“They started one of the trucks,” said Tony/Cynthia. “They’re getting away!”
“Do something,” said Susan.
“Do what?” demanded Larry.
“I don’t know!” said Susan. “Just … something!”
She heard a shot, and looked up in shock.
Seconds later it seemed like the entire factory yard was filled with gunfire. Susan dropped her radio and flip phone and grabbed her binoculars. Her heart was beating so fast her hands felt numb. She scanned the yard from her position in the trees, seeing Larry and his men locked in a firefight with the soldiers. Some of the soldiers were already lifeless on the ground, their friends dragging them to cover.
One of the trucks started moving, and then another. They’re getting away, thought Susan. Larry’s team was pinned down by the soldiers, and the army was sure to get at least three trucks onto the road, if not all four. I have to do something. Susan grimaced, screaming silently in her head, and then got up and ran.
The factory yard was a mess of cars and bodies and rubble. Susan hadn’t been counting how many soldiers were dead, but she knew it couldn’t be many—most of them would still be up and shooting. Someone fired a burst into the windshield of one of the trucks, and it swerved wildly; the attack was slowing them down, certainly, but it wasn’t going to stop them. Susan patted the cell phone in her pocket and ran the other way, toward the generator and the useless bomb. It wasn’t big, but it was the only weapon she had.
She found the brick of C-4 tucked into the space between two fuel tanks for the big gas generator. She didn’t know much about bombs, but she probed the connections with her finger, and everything seemed secure. The pins were pressed snugly into the C-4, the detonator was plugged in, the cell phone was attached to the detonator … and turned off. She snarled a curse at whatever idiot had placed the bomb, and reached for the button to turn it on—and stopped. The call hadn’t gone through, but the phone would register a missed call as soon as it powered up, and even that small signal would trigger the explosion. She stared at the phone, her finger hovering over the power button. There was no way to trigger it remotely anymore.
We’ve already started this, she thought. We can’t stop now. She stood up, gripped the bomb in one hand, and ran.
The firefight was forty yards away, the soldiers surrounded by a ring of black SUVs. Some of the trucks were still working their way toward the main road, but the main group of soldiers was crouched in the middle of the ring, covering the trucks as they made their escape. As long as they don’t turn around and see me—
—a shot went past Susan’s ear, and she lowered her head and kept running. They saw me. Thirty yards. Another shot, and then another. She took a risk and pressed the power button on the phone, holding it tightly while the phone came slowly to life. Two more shots. Twenty yards. Another shot. The phone lit up, power coursing through its circuits, and Susan clenched her teeth, praying that she had just a few more seconds before it booted up enough to received any kind of a signal. Two more shots, and a sharp sting in her leg. She staggered, lost her footing, and as she fell she hurled the bomb forward over the top of a black SUV. Halfway through its flight the phone chirped loudly, singing a jaunty marimba as it arced down into the center of the enemy, and exploded.
Susan hit the ground hard and covered her head, deafened by the roar of the fireball and seared by the sudden heat. The SUV took most of the force of the blast and she gasped for air, reeling even from the cushioned shock. Her ears rang, the world eerily silent, and her eyes were too blurry to see. She forced herself to stand up, to keep going; the enemy would be shocked, like she was, but they might not be dead yet. She stumbled over a fallen soldier and picked up his weapon, limping around the shattered SUV, seeing a soldier reach out toward his rifle. She fired as she walked, blasting anything that moved and pumping to reload—boom, ke-chak, boom, ke-chak, boom. Three trucks pulled toward the gate, slowly gaining speed, but thanks to her bomb the tattered remains of Larry’s team were now free to move, and they charged out from their gully, pelting the trucks with bullets. The first truck veered sharply to the right, nearly colliding with the other, but the second truck sped up and pulled ahead just in time. Larry jumped in front of the third truck, killing the engine block with a burst from his rifle, and the fourth truck slammed into it, jackknifing itself and slowly tipping as its own momentum pulled it in the wrong direction. The second truck roared through the hail of gunfire and burst through the gate, escaping onto the main road just as the fourth truck finally passed its balance point and tipped over. The barrels crashed down, a tidal wave of ReBirth exploding out as they hit the ground and burst open. Susan fired at the escaping truck, but it was too far away; it turned a corner and disappeared.
Susan blew out a slow breath and walked toward the final upright truck, skirting the pool of lotion on the ground. Larry and his men were rounding up the survivors, and she approached one who seemed to be the leader, kneeling on the ground with his thumbs zip-tied behind his head. He looked at her venomously.
“You’ll never be able to sell this stuff,” he said, “it’s garbage. All the good stuff was already gone.”
“We’ve got two trucks of ReBirth here,” said Susan. “Three if the stuff on the ground is salvageable. Is any of it blank?”
The man laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what batch this is? It’s not blank, it’s not a supermodel, it’s not an athlete, it’s not even a celebrity.” He laughed again, wild and desperate. “It’s the first batch—the accident.”
“He’s lying,” said Larry.
“Of course he is!” Susan shouted. She took another step toward him. “You wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep it if it was useless.”
“We were trying to destroy it,” said the agent. “Do you know what will…?” He went quiet. Closing his mouth tightly.
“What will what?” asked Susan. “Do I know what will what?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
Ke-chak. Susan held the shotgun just a few feet from his face.
“You’re a lot more hardcore than I realized,” said Tony/Cynthia.
“Listen,” said Susan, stepping closer to the agent. “I’m in this all the way now. I’ve killed so many American soldiers today I’ve lost track—one more or less isn’t going to change anything if they catch me. So you tell me why you risked your lives to destroy four truckloads of useless lotion, or I’ll move my magic finger and make your head disappear.”
