Incursion

Chapter 3: Reconnaissance

Haven turned out to be situated roughly forty or so kilometres to the east of Calgary. Being an underground bunker that wasn’t supposed to exist, it naturally had to be constructed away from areas with high foot and land traffic, ruling out any areas within Calgary’s city limits. The border itself was located in a largely unremarkable patch of grassland less than ten kilometres away from the town of Langdon to the north, and roughly the same distance from the town of Indus to the west. The 22x highway that fed Calgary with land traffic to its southern areas lay a few kilometres to the south of Haven, across a narrow creek. The dirt (now practically snow) path that branches off from an otherwise unmarked point in the highway was hard to find given the shrubs that littered the sides of the road. No one but those in the know about secret government installations would think much of a partially obscured trail that far away from the nearest major city.

I dressed myself in a black undershirt, the blue-gray fleece sweater Knight gave me when we first met, Genel’s gray parka, and a fit pair of women’s cargo pants that resembled a kind of arctic camouflage, as well as Genel’s tan snow shoes. Temperatures overnight were set to go from ten degrees below zero to as cold as fifteen below, which wasn’t mild but wasn’t too harsh either, at least by Calgary standards. Still, we had to bundle up enough because none of us would be able to just drive right down to the hospitals’ respective underground parking lots. For me and Knight, we’d have to leave our transport about five or so kilometres away from the South Health Campus to maintain stealth. That would mean at least half an hour or so’s worth of walking to the destination at least. Genel and Josh would have a more difficult journey, since they’d have to gradually head north up Stoney Trail – and that was if the highway wasn’t blocked by the US military – then eventually ease into the inner part of Calgary by turning west once they reached 16th Avenue. If they were lucky they’d get to a park somewhere near the intersection of Stoney Trail and 16th Avenue. If they weren’t, they could take all night just getting to Peter Lougheed Centre.

I tied my long hair in a simple ponytail and hung a pair of white woolen earmuffs around my neck. Josh had provided me with a pair of black winter gloves that struck a good balance between maintaining hand dexterity and keeping those same hands warm in cold weather, so I put those on too.

After getting dressed, I left my quarters and headed up to B2 to visit the armory and retrieve my gear. When I got there, Josh was waiting for me, standing next to the counter in full combat attire – navy blue jacket, steel gray cargo pants, a black winter cap, a standard Kevlar vest, and heavy-duty boots. He would’ve seemed plenty more intimidating with all those on even while unarmed had I not recently discovered he was actually more of a jolly giant than a rumbling behemoth.

When I walked in, he gave me a welcoming smile. “There you are, Chrissy. Been waiting for you.”

“Hi, Josh. Got my equipment?” I replied, glancing at the counter.

“You bet. I double checked your weapons in particular, made sure they’re in top form. Your pack’s also set. I put some quick snacks in there just in case, plus a couple bottles of water. You should be good for twenty-four hours away from Haven as long as you don’t chug.”

I nodded, picking up the special ballistic vest I’d selected earlier today. After shrugging out of my parka, I put the vest on over my fleece sweater. I then loaded the magazines Josh had prepared for my Vector into the ammo pouches on the front of the vest, then put on a utility belt and magnetically attached four magazines for my CZ Shadow 2 handgun to one side. On the other side of my waist I attached three stun grenades to the belt. Next, I clipped on my handgun holster holding the Shadow 2 to my right thigh. Once all that was done, I put my parka back on and slung my backpack over my torso. I picked up my Vector, gave it a brief check, then attached the submachine gun to the side of my backpack, allowing the magnetic lining to adhere the gun to the bag.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I think,” I announced, patting my vest and belt for one last check.

“Great,” Josh gave me a once over as if to admire how well put together my loadout was. “All right, if you’re not forgetting anything, I’ll walk with you to the hangar.”

I followed Josh, who was now wielding a customized Stoner 63A assault rifle, out of the armory and down the corridor to the elevator landing.

As we were waiting for the elevator to arrive at B2, he glanced at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was arriving here, that’s for sure,” I answered, feeling the slight buzz of pre-operation nerves but nothing debilitating.

“Good, good. Y’know,” Josh said thoughtfully, scratching at his goatee, “Maybe it’s because you’re still new in Shadow, but you aren’t nearly as bossy as I expected.”

The elevator doors opened and allowed us to enter. Once we were in the car, Josh pressed ‘B1’ and the doors slid shut.

“Should I be?” I asked, curious. “What was the previous XO like?”

“Serious and not the jolliest,” Josh replied with a bit of a sigh, though he did not seem exasperated by the fact. “Her name was Naomi. Many times I wondered if she and Ian fed on each other’s similar personalities. She wasn’t a hardass, but… well, she’s not one for nonsense, either. We liked her plenty regardless, though.”

“Where is she now?”

“She got promoted to leader of another elite-tier team.”

“Impressive. She must’ve been a good XO.”

He clapped me on my right shoulder, not too hard to stagger me with his sheer physical strength, but enough to make his chumminess clear.

“It’s not a competition, Chrissy,” he assured me, “You’ll be awesome.”

I smiled gratefully up at him. “Thanks.”

The car we were riding eventually stopped to deposit us in a brightly lit stone hangar about half the size of a football field. The first thing I saw when we stepped out of the elevator was a Black Hawk helicopter, probably one of newer MH-60 models. Past the chopper, along the walls on either side, were about ten identical military four-wheel drives. I recognized each of them as exactly the same model that Shadow Team used to rescue me from the Stampede.

Josh led me past the lone Black Hawk and all the way to the last couple military vehicles in the hangar where the two other members of the team were waiting.

Genel, clad in a dark brown coat, black cargo pants resembling the ones I’m wearing, a peach toque, and black winter boots, stood leaning against the hood of one of the trucks, was conversing with Knight. In her arms she was cradling a light gray compact sniper rifle that I recognized as a Desert Tech Stealth Recon Scout. The noticeably shorter barrel which I presumed Genel chose for urban combat meant that this SRS rifle was a Covert variant. Genel looked right at home holding the powerful rifle like it was a pillow.

Knight, meanwhile, wore the same charcoal black windbreaker, black watch cap, and dark gray combat pants he wore last night when we first met. From his left hand dangled a G36C assault rifle, and in twin thigh holsters were his HK45 and Walther PPQ sidearms.

Genel and Knight turned their heads as Josh and I approached.

“Ready to go, boss,” Josh told Knight, giving me a fleeting glance.

Knight nodded, then turned to address us three. “All right, we know our objectives. I know we’re practically blind here, but this is specifically why we’re going out for intel. Remember, this is strictly recon – unless you have to, do not be seen and do not engage. I don’t need to remind you how unfavourably the odds are stacked against us. Archer, Goliath, I expect you to respond to one radio check per hour. Understood?”

“Understood,” Genel said promptly.

“Got it,” Josh said right after Genel.

“Reach me on the comms if anything comes up,” Knight added, “And if you encounter too much resistance to complete the op, don’t push it. Fall back and try a different route.”

Genel and Josh nodded nearly simultaneously. Even Josh, lighthearted as he was just minutes ago, seemed distinctly more alert and serious. We were on a dangerous mission after all, and perhaps our most perilous one to date. With our connection to C.O.S. headquarters at least temporarily severed, we had to work without support by way of intel.

“Good luck, you two,” Knight said with a conclusive tone, then gave them a firm nod.

Genel started to walk toward the front passenger seat of the four-wheel drive she had been leaning on. Josh moved toward the driver’s side door. Knight strode over to the driver’s door of the truck beside Genel’s and Josh’s.

“Break a leg.” Genel gave me a small smile as she piled her backpack into the back seat. “We’ll see you back here in the morning, hopefully.”

“Yeah, but ditch the ‘hopefully’,” I replied to her, injecting some confidence in my voice. “You two make it back here no matter what.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Josh piped up, flashing me a proper military salute minus the stiff body pose, “Watch yourselves out there.”

Giving them a nod myself, I walked over to the right side of the truck, stowed my backpack behind the front passenger seat and climbed in beside Knight, who had just turned the engine over.

“Comms check,” I heard Knight’s smooth voice come through on the earpiece in my left ear.

“Go for Archer,” Genel replied immediately.

“Goliath is go,” Josh chanted back.

I tapped my earpiece. “Angel, go.”

“Confirmed, all agents are go,” Knight said, “Opening bulkhead doors.”

I glanced to my left to see Knight tapping at his TACPAD. A second later, I heard a sound of steel rumbling from somewhere up the vehicle ramp to the right. Soon after, the truck to our right began to accelerate and make its way up the ramp.

Knight accelerated our truck as well, following Genel’s and Josh’s truck up the ramp that opened up by way of silo doors to eject us into a flat snowfield underneath a clear, starry winter sky. When both trucks were clear of the ramp and out of the doors, Knight sealed the bunker doors again with his TACPAD.

Knight maneuvered the truck behind the others’ as Genel spoke over the team channel.

“Knight?”

“Go ahead,” Knight responded, staring straight ahead at the vehicle in front of ours.

“Recommend sending out the drone to scout out Twenty-Two-X for hostile presence.”

“How much range does it have?”

Genel paused for a moment, perhaps to consult schematics on this drone of hers.

“Maximum range is rated at twenty kilometres.”

Knight considered the proposition for a few seconds.

“Go for drone recon. It will save us a lot of time if we know Twenty-Two-X is free of enemy checkpoints or blockades.”

“Copy that, sending out the drone now,” Genel replied.

I looked out the windshield and watched as the front passenger side door of the truck ahead swung open and Genel’s legs and part of her upper body poked out from within the truck. She held out her gloved hand and seemed to lift something up in the air. From this distance, I saw a white device the size of my palm floating steadily from Genel’s hand and then taking flight to the west at an impressive speed that belied its fairly slow ascent from the palm of Genel’s hand.

No more than half a minute later, Genel spoke again: “I have eyes on the highway. Following it west. Give me a few minutes to scan for hostiles.”

We waited for over ten minutes in silence. Finally, Genel gave us her report over the comms.

“Twenty-Two-X is clear for the first twenty kilometres from here. Knight, it looks like you and Angel are in luck. I managed to get the drone within range of the South Health Campus. The hospital itself appears occupied and its parking lots have activity, but Twenty-Two-X is clear for you to drive on through to the hospital for the most part. The highway has its abandoned vehicles scattered about, same as last night. Otherwise it’s clear. I’m bringing the drone back.”

“Copy that, Archer. Angel and I will go on ahead,” Knight replied, releasing the safety brake.

“All right.”

Knight maneuvered the vehicle to point south. As we accelerated down the obscure trail toward the highway, Genel spoke again.

“Watch yourselves out there,” she said to me and Knight.

“Roger that,” Knight answered back, his eyes staying on the windshield.

“We’ll be careful,” I added, remembering Genel’s request from earlier today. “You guys take care too.”

After that, communications went silent. The only sounds I heard were the tires of the four-wheel drive churning at the snow beneath us and the low hum of the engine. For five minutes the ride was a little bumpy since we were following an unpaved path, but eventually we came upon the Marquis of Lorne Trail – commonly known by Calgarians as Twenty-Two-X – and Knight steered the truck to the right and kept us moving toward Calgary at a fairly constant speed of around eighty kilometres an hour.

The journey west was largely a quiet one – eerily so. As we drove we passed many cars, SUVs, buses, and vans standing silently in different lanes, so Knight had to constantly switch lanes to move our truck around the obstacles. I’d been down Twenty-Two-X many times before and knew it was one of the busiest throughways in the city. To see it lifeless, dark, and devoid of other moving vehicles made it feel like we were in something like a horror movie, or at the very least in a post-apocalyptic themed one. Knight drove the truck at a careful but also brisk speed around the abandoned vehicles, so I didn’t have much time to observe each and every one we passed, but from what I could see all of them were empty; the drivers must have just left them where they now sat. Whether or not the vehicles’ owners vacated their transportation of their own will wasn’t clear to me. A lot of the cars and trucks had some of its doors flung open and trunks popped, so I imagined at least whoever left them did so in a hurry.

The nerves I felt over the course of today came buzzing back, making my stomach sink as I took in our surroundings. Is this even real?

Of course it is, I chastised myself internally for being naïve. None of what I’d seen the last several days was an illusion. None of what I’d experienced was a dream. This is reality, harsh as it is and unreal as it may seem.

I gripped my knees tightly, keeping my gaze ahead as we continued to put more distance between us and the relative safety of Haven.





The journey to Calgary’s southern end didn’t take long. We were able to cover about twenty kilometres in just over fifteen minutes. Once we reached the interchange linking 22x and Stoney Trail Southeast, Knight took 88th Street Southeast, bringing us south until we reached the intersection of 88th Street and 178th Avenue. From there, he drove us west down 178th Avenue until we were running parallel with Masters Avenue and just about reached Mahogany West Beach. Before the curved part of 178th Avenue came up, Knight parked the truck behind some shrubs and a few trees close to the water’s edge.

When he shut off the engine, instead of immediately exiting the vehicle, he spoke to me for the first time since we left Haven tonight.

“Angel.”

I glanced at him, in the middle of undoing my seat belt and opening my truck door.

“Sir?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

This time, he didn’t seem to mind my formal manner of addressing him. His expression, however, still remained largely devoid of any discernible emotion.

“You good?” he asked, his voice only a few notches above whispering.

“I’m good,” I nodded at him rather quickly, “Was there a reason to think otherwise?”

He stared at me for a moment, and I couldn’t help wondering if he actually something in me that made him doubt me with regards to my ability to perform on this operation.

Eventually, he shifted his gaze slightly lower, muttering, “No. Come on. It’s not far a walk from here to the hospital.”

He stepped out onto the snowy garden we parked in with me following suit. We retrieved our backpacks from the back seat, put them on, and secured our vehicle.

A gentle breeze swept by, blowing my ponytail slightly off its resting place on my upper back. By my estimate it was around twenty degrees below zero with the wind chill. It was cold, no doubt, but now that I was wearing proper winter clothing it was far more bearable being out here than when I was imprisoned in that camp at the Stampede.

I looked to the northeast, where there stood two-story homes that were all dark and looking empty, same as the numerous vehicles we passed on the way here. Were there even people in any of them? The nearby lampposts along 178th Avenue were all still lit, so if the houses were dark it wasn’t because the electricity had gone out yet. Are there people still holed up in these houses, keeping silent and hiding in the dark, afraid of bringing attention to themselves lest soldiers come and drag them off to camps like the one I was in?

“Angel,” a faraway voice seemed to call me. “Angel.”

It took me a second to realize it was Knight who was calling me. He was already twenty feet away, heading in the direction of the large hospital building, which was visible from this distance thanks to its size and the numerous outside lights. Some of the lights were even of the Christmas variety, easy to make out even from this far.

I turned to face the Shadow leader. “Yes. I’m sorry, I was… looking at something.”

“Let’s not get distracted. We’ve got a job to do,” he said mostly blandly, although I suspected he was slightly disapproving of my wandering focus.

“Yes, of course. Sorry.”

Knight turned and continued walking toward the bend in the road, and I hurried to catch up with him, staying a couple paces behind him.

From where we parked the truck, it was relatively easy to get to the South Health Campus. We followed the remainder of 178th Avenue, then turned left onto Mahogany Drive. From there we took another left turn onto 52nd Street which turned naturally onto Seton Boulevard, where the hospital stood between it and Front Street. The journey on foot took only twenty minutes.

Our first encounter with enemy troops was on the intersection of 45th Street and Seton Boulevard, practically just outside of the hospital’s emergency room entrance.

Knight and I hung back where 52nd Street curved to become Seton Boulevard upon seeing the floodlights ahead bathing the intersection in a bright white light.

Knight removed his backpack and dug out a pair of C.O.S. modified binoculars. Laying his pack by his feet, he straightened up and brought the lenses up to his eyes. He observed the area ahead of us for a minute, then held out the scope in my direction.

“Take a look,” he said quietly, his eyes still trained on the intersection ahead.

I took the binoculars from him and peered through the device, adjusting the magnification so I had most of the street within my field of view.

Up ahead was a checkpoint being manner by about half a dozen or so US Army soldiers from what I could see. There was an elevated metal platform built right in the middle of the intersection, and on top of it was a mounted machine gun pointed in this direction. One soldier was idly standing by the gun, and from his posture I could surmise the soldiers here at the hospital weren’t too concerned about having any sort of trouble that would involve combat. To the left of the platform were two gray mobile trailers, where I had to assume more soldiers were sheltered, either on break or asleep off-shift. There were about four military Humvees parked around the elevated MG platform, all equipped with equally powerful fifty-calibre machine guns on their rooves, though from my position I could see none of them were currently being manned.

I panned the binoculars further to the left, scouting out the rest of 45th Street that made up the east perimeter of the hospital. Gasoline powered floodlights had been erected all along the street to create overlapping fields of illumination up until at least the next intersection between 45th Street and Front Street.

“How’s it look? Do you see a viable infil point?” came Knight’s low voice to my left.

I trained the scope at what little I could see of the part of Front Street that ran along the southern side of the hospital. It wasn’t the clearest picture, but from here I could see there were comparatively fewer floodlights set up on Front Street than there were along 45th.

Lowering the binoculars, I answered with more confidence in my voice now. “No, I don’t see one from here. If we’re getting inside that hospital, it won’t be through the east side, that’s for sure. That area is too well lit that we’ll be spotted crossing 45th. If not then we’ll get caught crossing the parking lot thanks to all those lampposts. But—”

Knight glanced at me at the same time I glanced at him. “But—?”

“There appear to be fewer floodlights running along Front Street. Exploiting the gaps in these lights to our advantage should work,” I continued to give him my assessment, “That’s just for crossing the street. As for getting inside, we won’t be able to tell how we’re going to do that from all the way here.”

Knight looked again to the distance in the direction of Front Street. “Crossing Front Street brings us to the southern side of the hospital, where the main entrance is.”

For once I immediately caught on to his line of thinking.

“Yes, going in through the front door is hardly smart in most cases,” I said, then brought the binoculars up to my eyes again to scan the brightly lit 45th Street.

I ran my gaze along the street’s length until I caught sight of a duo of soldiers walking at a relatively leisurely pace, headed south toward Front Street. I kept tracking the two to confirm if they would turn right from 45th onto Front, and was met with an affirmative. They must be on patrol, a routine one just to ensure the perimeter was secure even though this part of the city was mostly quiet.

An idea popped up in my mind. I lowered the binoculars and glanced at Knight, surreptitiously making note of his height and build. Even though I tried to be subtle about it, he evidently noticed me eyeing him right away because he narrowed his eyes at me slightly in response.

“What?” he demanded.

Although I had a legitimate reason for giving him that look, I still felt a bit of embarrassment. I cleared my throat and answered with a serious tone:

“I have an idea, though it’s… going to be hard to picture how I’d fit into it.”

“Explain.”

I looked him in the eyes. “There are guards patrolling the streets immediately around the hospital. From what I could see, there’s at least one pair patrolling together. Since we’re going in there without a clue as to what security in the building is like, I figure it would be much safer to infiltrate SHC as US Army soldiers.”

Knight listened to my proposition intently, then glanced back in the direction of the hospital. He held out his hand for the binoculars. “Pass me the scope again.”

I handed him the binoculars back again and waited while he made another pass at the perimeter with the device. After a moment, he lowered the lens and glanced back at me. This time he gave me a once over briefly, though he did not attempt to be subtle about it, nor was he visibly embarrassed by doing so.

“I don’t see a lot of soldiers your size,” he commented in a tone that sounded as though he was merely stating a fact and had no particular opinions about my plan.

Trying not to look sheepish, I nodded slowly. “Unfortunately not. Of course it’s your call, sir… Knight.”

Knight surprised me by responding right away. “No, I think the plan is the soundest one we have. We’ll go with your plan.”

Taken aback at how readily he accepted my proposition, I nearly blurted out a ‘thank you’ before catching my tongue and compromising with another silent nod.

“Right.” Knight stowed the binoculars in his backpack and clipped the bag back to his body, “Let’s go.”

Knight crossed Seton Boulevard and led the way through a grassy field just to the east of 45th Street. Here, we kept low and used the waist-high grass to keep ourselves concealed while we kept moving in a southwesterly direction toward Front Street. We managed to quickly cross Front Street a little distance away from where the floodlights were concentrated and worked our way closer to the hospital’s main entrance. Within five minutes we were crouched in the grass just across from the main entrance of the South Health Campus, directly south of the hospital.

Between us were several cars parked by the sidewalk closest to us. Just as I’d hoped, this portion of Front Street had only two floodlights that we needed to worry about, flanking either side of the main entrance and its lights overlapping to illuminate an area of the street directly in front of the main doors, meaning large swaths of the street to the left and right of the entrance offered a fair amount of darkness for cover. There were two soldiers right outside the main entrance, though they were mostly facing each other and having a conversation at the moment. There were two nearby roving patrols: the first consisted of a pair of soldiers leisurely heading west along Front Street, while the other pair was a moving at a similar pace in the same direction but lagging about fifty or so paces behind the first pair. Both duos were still within the dark area to the right of the hospital entrance, heading for the brightly lit portion of Front Street in front of the lobby.

I inched closer to Knight, who was observing the approaching four soldiers to the east.

“What’s our move, Knight?” I asked him in a hushed voice.

He jerked his head toward the two patrols. “I’ll need a set of those fatigues. We’ll take out the two at the rear of the other pair. Wait for the rear patrol to pass through the floodlights, then we’ll drop them in the dark before the other two turn around and head back east. You take the guy closer to the sidewalk, and I’ll take the other.”

“Understood,” I replied with a slight nod.

“We need to be quick and discreet,” Knight added as I watched the soldiers ahead of the others approaching the lit portion of Front Street. “No guns. Knives only.”

“Roger.”

We carefully maneuvered toward the dark area to the left of the main entrance, keeping low in the brush to avoid detection. We waited as the first pair of soldiers slowly passed by less than ten metres ahead of us, then we stealthily moved out of the grass and took cover behind an abandoned delivery van parked by the sidewalk. Melding with the shadows, we waited for the rear patrol to approach our hiding spot.

By the time the two soldiers we were targeting were almost beside the van we were hiding behind, the front patrol had moved a good distance away to the west that I felt comfortable a tussle with the rear patrol would go unheard, provided no shots are fired.

When the two soldiers were directly on the other side of the van, Knight swiftly but silently maneuvered around the hood of the vehicle and crept up behind the soldier on the right. I watched his movement through the van windows so I could intervene at the right moment. He carefully drew out his tactical knife while I brought out my karambit, gripping the blade in my left hand.

Just as the two soldiers were level with the rear bumper of the van, Knight grabbed the soldier on the right from behind with his free left hand, hooking his hand around to cup over it the soldier’s mouth. Just as the soldier was beginning to react to the attack, Knight drove the knife in his right hand into the soldier’s right side where I knew the standard Kevlar vest was thinner and weaker. I heard Knight’s target cry in pain at the quick stab to his side, though the noise was muffled thanks to Knight’s hand clamped over the soldier’s mouth. The moment the soldier lowered his body slightly in response to the pain, Knight dug out his knife from the soldier’s side and quickly brought the blade to the soldier’s neck. With a swift swipe, he sliced open the thin skin and reduced his victim’s grunts to wet gurgles.

In the meantime, the second soldier who was accompanying the first reacted to Knight’s attack poorly and slowly, clearly not anticipating an ambush like this. I heard him mutter “What the fuck—” and start to bring his assault rifle to bear, all the while turning his body toward Knight and the other soldier. At this instant, I darted out from cover to execute my attack. Since I was too short to effectively restrain my target, I resorted to lifting my leg up and quickly connecting the tip of my boot to the soldier’s crotch, which was largely open to the kick thanks to him squaring up to prepare to fire his gun at Knight. My attack had the desired effect: with a distinct but still relatively quiet grunt of pain, the soldier dropped his rifle and doubled over from the kick to his balls. As soon as he was bent over in pain, I quickly knelt down to his right side and brought the sharp, curved blade of my karambit to align with his neck, then swiped to the right and tore the vulnerable skin of his throat cleanly with the tip of my karambit. I allowed the soldier to fall to the ground, clutching at his bleeding neck until he went limp on the ground within five seconds.

Knight had already hooked his arms underneath his victim’s armpits and was starting to drag the body toward the grass. I got off my haunches and followed his move with my own target, finding the man’s weight considerably harder to move because of my comparatively weaker physical strength compared to Knight’s. Still, within thirty seconds we had both dragged our downed targets out of sight and into the brush, as well as collected their dropped M4 carbines. It wasn’t a minute after Knight and I had dropped back into cover in the grass that the other patrol turned back and eventually passed by the scene of our ambush. Thanks to the darkness enveloping the area, the two soldiers still standing missed the bloodstains on the asphalt by the van, and continued to retrace their steps back to the east.

When they were once again at a safe distance away from our position, Knight spoke again quietly. “We’re clear.”

He looked down at our two kills on the snowy ground. Pointing toward the soldier I killed, he said, “This one looks more my size. Help me get his fatigues off.”

I complied and helped him remove the man’s shirt, vest, helmet, balaclava, pants, and boots. Once the corpse was down to its undershirt and underwear, Knight gathered up the looted clothes and gear in his arms.

“Right, give me a few minutes to get changed.”

“You’re going to change out here?” I asked him incredulously; it was too cold to undress out here, at least by my standards.

“I’ll be quick. Keep an eye out.”

“Okay,” I replied after pausing half a second – I had to remind myself I was working with the Reaper, and if the exploits of this man according to rumours were even half true then a bit of cold wasn’t going to faze him.

I watched as Knight trudged off deeper into the grassy field behind me until he was out of sight, then turned my attention back to the road and the hospital entrance.

As I watched the guards staying just outside the lobby separate and stand more attentively on either side of the entrance, I wondered about what Knight would be able to find in there. I still felt a little awkward practically sending him into the lions’ den by himself, but he approved of my plan immediately, without hesitation.

Well, I guess if he is the Reaper, this will hardly be the first den he’ll walk into by his lonesome.

Still, I recalled Genel’s request about helping take care of and watch out for Knight.

I silently apologized to her for being the one to come up with this plan. I tried not to think about what would happen if this operation went sideways and ended up costing us the Shadow leader.





Once I was a fair distance away from Angel, I put the fatigues and boots down on the ground and briskly began removing most of my gear and clothing. The more I shed, the colder I felt, but compared to those few training missions I went through to become a fully-fledged C.O.S. agent, this was a non-issue; it wasn’t as though I’d have to sit outside in minus thirty weather, waiting for a target to show up between then and the next several hours.

Once I was down to my undershirt and underwear, I picked up the bottom half of the soldier’s uniform and put my legs through it. Afterward, I put on the matching navy camo shirt and combat boots. I pulled on the Kevlar vest and gloves next, then donned the soldier’s full face balaclava and helmet. I gave myself a quick inspection to ensure I looked the part of ‘R. Harper’, whose name and rank of private was sewn into the fabric of the shirt’s left breast pocket, then reattached the holster holding my HK45 semiautomatic pistol to my right thigh. I’d pass for a real US Army soldier from a distance, at least. I’d just have to minimize talking to other soldiers who might know Harper enough to notice any differences between him and his imposter.

I gathered up the clothes and vest I removed, my Walther, and my backpack, and headed back toward the edge of the grassy field toward where Angel was waiting.

I found her easily enough, still crouched down and keeping her eyes on the main entrance to the hospital. Her rose pink-dyed hair that was tied back in a simple ponytail flowed gently in the brisk wind, but otherwise she kept still even under cover of the grass. I put my clothes and gear down on the ground beside her and knelt down on her other side.

As I reassessed the side of the hospital we could see, I felt Angel’s eyes shift to me.

I glanced at her and found her looking at me again with that oddly awkward expression I saw her giving me a while ago while we were scoping out our approach.

“What?” I demanded, more bemused by her behaviour than anything else.

“Maybe I should go with you after all,” she said abruptly.

The words that came out of her mouth were quite contradictory to our current plan that for a few seconds, I simply stared at her silently.

“Thought you’d brought up the point that most soldiers out here were too tall and too large for you to pass off as,” I reminded her after my momentary pause.

“I know, but we have no intel on what it’s like in there,” Angel said insistently, nodding grimly toward the hospital before us. For a moment, I reluctantly allowed myself to marvel at how truly innocuous she looked; she looked more like a high school student than a supposedly 25-year old clandestine federal agent who’s surely got a kill count that comes with the territory of our profession. She reminded me of one of those kinds of girls I would probably have developed a crush on in high school but would get over within a month simply because she’d be popular while I strove to be a part of the crowd.

“How do we know you won’t need backup at some point?” she continued, clearly starting to fret even though she was still projecting a largely calm front.

The truth was that we didn’t know that. We couldn’t. There was no way to know without actually heading in there and seeing for ourselves. I was willing to take that risk and go in alone, having gone incognito in dangerous settings before on my own, but I didn’t like the odds of endangering the operation’s success based on a hunch that I might need help.

There was something moderately defiant in Angel’s expression as I looked at her. She was still largely a stranger to me, and everything I knew about her came from either her file or the one day she’s spent with the rest of Shadow so far. At this point I wasn’t getting the impression she would be a hindrance to the team, but I did notice she was rather timid at times. A few times I’d catch her looking in my general direction and when I looked back at her she’d act like she was mortified or overly conscious of having looked my way. I couldn’t tell if this was normal behaviour for her or not; I simply hadn’t known her for long enough and personnel files don’t cover those nuances. I couldn’t tell if her timidness was because of the nature of our situation here in Calgary, or if it was because she simply felt she had to prove herself somehow as Shadow’s new second-in-command.

Questions for another time and place. I can’t let myself worry about these things when we’re in the middle of an operation behind enemy lines. Either way, I needed to assure her of the feasibility of the plan she came up with herself.

“I’ll be fine in there. It won’t be my first time infiltrating an enemy stronghold,” I told her steadily, careful to put certainty in my voice, “Besides, I need you out here.”

“Out here?” Angel repeated, not getting my meaning.

Right, well… maybe I didn’t need her out here so much as I preferred her to be out here.

“The enemy’s less likely to notice one intruder than two,” I said quietly, glancing at the lobby entrance. “I want you to stay here and update me in case the situation out here changes.”

She didn’t appear convinced by my proposition.

“We just took down two soldiers patrolling the perimeter,” I pointed out as a reminder, “If the guards out here start getting suspicious about two missing soldiers, I want you to report it to me so I can think about exfiltrating in case things get hot.”

Angel’s eyebrows relaxed noticeably upon hearing my reasoning, telling me I’d managed to at least bring up a valid point for having a set of eyes on the outside.

“All right, I’ll hold position here,” she relented, picking up one of the M4 assault rifles we collected from the patrol we took down and holding it out to me. “I’ll keep you informed if anything changes out here. How long do you think you’ll be in there?”

I took the question into consideration, then answered: “I’ll be in and out in thirty minutes.”

“Copy that. How are you getting in?”

“Front door.”

“You sure your disguise will hold?”

Her emerging signs of being a worrier reminded me of how Genel could be sometimes. Over time I’d just learned to accept that Genel was naturally like that, but if even my XO worried like Genel did, I could sense we’d have problems in the long run.

“I’ll make it hold,” I told her, fighting the urge to dismiss her anxieties outright.

Fortunately, Angel didn’t bring up any more objections. She sighed softly, looking away from me as she did and then nodding to me in deference.

“Okay, I’ll be in touch,” she said crisply.

I pulled up the sleeve of the Army fatigues I was wearing to consult my TACPAD which was hidden underneath it. The time was 1803. I opened a team channel and contacted the other Shadow members.

“Archer, Goliath. Sitrep.”

There was no response at first, then there was a faint beep right before a familiar voice responded to my hail.

“Archer here. We encountered considerable enemy presence halfway up Stoney Trail on the way north,” Archer reported as a breeze whistled in the background. “We had to leave the truck.”

“Understood. How much farther do you and Goliath have to walk before you hit 16th Avenue?”

“Estimate over an hour of walking,” Goliath chimed in over the comms, “Maybe two hours before we hit 16th. We’re still just past the interchange between Stoney and Glenmore Trail. Hell, I’ll be twenty pounds lighter by the time this op is over.”

That would most certainly mean Archer and Goliath wouldn’t be able to make it back to Haven until early morning at the earliest. Also the fact that Goliath was still able to gripe about his situation was a good sign – they weren’t in distress and were doing just fine.

“What about you guys? Any luck down there at SHC?” Archer asked, breathing slightly briskly. She and Goliath must be walking at a fairly quick pace as we spoke.

“More so than you guys have, at least,” Angel joined the conversation from beside me. “We’re looking right at the lobby doors now.”

“Already? You two are fast,” Archer remarked, sounding a bit amazed, “You got a plan to infiltrate the building yet?”

“I’m going incognito,” I answered simply.

“Try not to kill too many hostiles then,” Goliath in a pretend-casual tone. For the most part I don’t bother entertaining his humour during operations, but I wasn’t entirely opposed to it, either. If anything, he’s a welcome tension reliever within the team.

“Are you doing that alone?” came Genel’s all-too familiar tone that she tries as to spin as plain and noncommittal although I could see right through the veneer and know she was concerned about me.

“Unfortunately yes,” Angel answered her before I could, and for some reason she sounded somewhat apologetic. “My size, uh, draws attention.”

There was a brief but no less perceptible period of silence from Archer and Goliath before the former spoke up again quietly. “Understood.”

I didn’t want to welcome further discussion on the matter right now, so I concluded it and switched focus back to Archer’s and Goliath’s situation.

“How are you two doing over there?”

“We’re okay for now,” Goliath took over reporting their status, sounding slightly short of breath, “We’re keeping well away from the highway, sticking to the fields running alongside it. We might take cover at the East Hills Shopping Centre at the interchange between Stoney and 17th Avenue for a bit of a break. It’s a long walk and hardly summer weather.”

“Copy,” I replied straight away, “Do what you have to. Looks like Angel and I will make it back well before you do, but don’t rush.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Next radio check in one hour.”

“Talk later, then. Good luck down there in SHC. Goliath out.”

With that, the channel went silent. I glanced to my left at Angel, who was gazing at the main entrance to the hospital again. I located the one patrol still roving the south side of the hospital heading west again, coming toward the lit portion of Front Street.

“Knight. Are you ready?”

Angel was looking at me tentatively. I nodded, checking the carbine I was carrying to make sure I had a loaded magazine just in case.

“Let’s get this done.”

Leaving Angel at her lookout spot just to the left of the illuminated part of Front Street, I maneuvered toward the dark area on the right and waited patiently waited until the remaining patrol walked past me in a westerly direction. Once the immediate area was clear, I stood up and walked across the street, imitating the manner with which the remaining two soldiers walked – almost casual but with a certain of rigidness typical for military personnel on standby or low-threat guard duty. I deliberately plotted my course so that I would look like I was coming from the direction of the intersection of Front Street and 45th Street.

Eventually I stepped into the lit area in front of the hospital lobby, where the two soldiers stood flanking the doors. As I approached, the one on the right glanced at me. Unlike the soldier whose clothes I was wearing, this one wasn’t wearing a balaclava although our uniforms were identical apart from that.

“Hey man, you off shift?” he asked me in a slightly chummy manner that gave me the impression he didn’t personally know the person I took these clothes from. Either that, or he simply didn’t care to look at the name sewn into the fabric of the shirt I was wearing. He also sounded rather young, like maybe just out of high school judging from how he looked. Good, I can work with this.

Summoning my best imitation of an acquaintance’s way of speaking to another acquaintance, I stopped beside the soldier and made a show of bunching my shoulders and shivering a little. “Yeah, just finished. It’s nippy as all hell up here in Canuck Country, isn’t it? Wonder if our guys in any of the cities to the east are having it any warmer than us.”

He gave a haughty little chuckle. “This isn’t even the worst Calgary can get, not by a long shot. I grew up in North Dakota, and winters there can feel just like this. I hear this city can go minus 22 and feel an extra minus 10 on bad winters.”

“Jesus, why do people live here?”

“Yeah,” the soldier nodded and narrowed his eyes a little. He jerked his head in my direction. “Where you from, man?”

Think fast and tropical.

“Gainesville,” I replied without missing a beat.

“Florida guy. Figures,” the soldier chuckled again, sounding rather genuinely amused by this conversation, “Surprised you haven’t turned into a popsicle yet.”

I offered an exasperated shrug of my shoulders. “Here’s hoping we don’t stay in town too long. Though really, who knows what the brass have in mind.”

“I hear that,” the guy sighed. I took advantage of the lull in the conversation to quickly disengage from it.

“Anyway, I could really go for a cup of coffee,” I said and shuddered my arms again for effect, “Stay warm.”

Thankfully the guy didn’t try to prolong the conversation. “Yeah. See you later.”

I walked past him and entered the lobby through the revolving door. The lobby was lit well enough, same as it would be under normal circumstances. However, unlike normal circumstances there weren’t any civilians hanging about the lobby. No patients in hospital gowns strolling down the immediate first floor area. The floor wasn’t as clean as it usually was, instead caked with mush brown footprints leading away from the doors and further down the halls on either the right or left. Instead of civilians wearing a variety of random colours hanging around the lobby, there were about a dozen or so men wearing the same navy camouflage sitting on the lounge sofas, standing by the receptionist’s desk, gathered at the nearby Goodearth Café to the left of the receptionist’s desk, and walking to and from different areas of the immediate first floor lobby. Some of them carried the standard issue rifles of the Army with them, though none who were carrying them looked tense or overly alert. No one seemed to pay me any attention as I glanced around.

So far, so good. Now, where would their command room be?

Rather than waste time wandering this large hospital trying to zero in on possible sources of intel, I decided to cut to the chase and simply bring up the one name I was sure these guards would recognize.

I walked up to the receptionist’s desk, where another young, 18-ish years old soldier appeared to be focused on typing something up on a portable laptop he had set up on the table.

“Excuse me,” I began, getting the man’s attention. He lifted his head up, showing me a slightly flushed face that told me he was busy and eager to get back to whatever he was doing.

“Yeah?” he said distractedly, barely meeting my eyes in between glances down at his screen.

“Is Major Steele in?”

He gave me a slightly confused and mildly annoyed expression, as if he was upset at being interrupted from working by someone asking a stupid question.

“The major isn’t scheduled to visit here until Saturday,” he informed me with a frown that struck me as condescending. “You’d know if you looked at the schedules.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think of that,” I rubbed at the back of my helmet, rolling with the image of the not-so-smart private, “Who’s the CO on site?”

His condescending demeanour deepened. “Lieutenant Evans. Are you new here or what?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“His office is on the eighth floor, in Unit 62. Lifts are by the radiology department down that way,” he jerked his thumb over to the hallway to my right, where I knew the radiology lobby was situated across the hall from the wellness centre.

“Thanks, I’ll go up to see him,” I managed a relieved tone and started to move in that direction.

I picked up my pace as soon as I caught the young soldier shaking his head in irritation before diving back into his work. Deciding to seize the opportunity to make an exit before he decided to get curious about my lack of apparently basic knowledge, I strode briskly past the desk and made my way down the hall toward the elevators.

I passed by the gift shop, which had its doors swung open and about half of its products strewn about on the floor, and passed the radiology department to reach the visitor elevators in front of the YMCA Wellness Centre.

“Knight, come in.”

Angel’s voice came through on my earpiece. She was speaking in a hushed but slightly urgent voice. I took a quick glance around the elevator lobby to make sure there were no other soldiers within earshot before tapping my earpiece.

“I’m here,” I murmured, pressing the ‘up’ button the first set of elevator doors. “What’s the matter?”

“Just checking in. I was tracking you through the lobby but I just lost sight of you.”

“I’m at the elevators, heading up to the eighth floor. The site CO’s office is up there. There ought to be a personal computer of his I can try accessing for intel.”

“What’s security like in there?”

“Not as tight as I expected. Twenty-plus hostiles in and around the lobby. I don’t know about any of the other floors.”

“Do you find that odd?”

I personally didn’t find it too concerning. From what Archer told me, apart from the Canadian Army Reserves personnel stationed in Calgary, the city didn’t really put up much of a resistance during the beginning of the incursion. With potentially every major city in the country under attack by the United States military, our country’s comparatively smaller military must naturally be split between locations geographically closer to Ottawa, the Canadian capital. Even if half of Canada’s military resources were available outside of the Ontario province, that number would still have been divided between many other municipalities. When it comes down to it, there had to be more than two American soldiers for every one Canadian soldier. I wasn’t sure about the numbers exactly, but it was no secret that when people hear ‘military superpower’, they think about countries like the United States, China, or Russia. Canada never quite earned that distinction at any point in history.

“Not particularly,” I muttered, surreptitiously glancing around to watch out for potential eavesdroppers.

Angel didn’t respond for a moment. The elevator doors opened in front of me to admit me into an empty car. Stepping inside, I pressed the button for the eighth floor and waited for the doors to slide shut.

As the car started to ascend, I told Angel: “I’m going radio silent for a few minutes. I’ll attract attention if someone up on eight notices me talking to myself.”

“Understood,” Angel replied, then as an afterthought she said, “Be careful.”

“Right. Out.”

Twenty seconds later, the elevator stopped at eight and the elevator voice announced, “Floor eight.”

I stepped out of the elevator into a surprisingly dim landing. The only sources of illumination in this elevator landing came from the unit lights shining from past doors on either side of the hallway. Looking over to my right, I saw double doors marked with ‘Unit 64’ on a plastic placard mounted from the ceiling above. When I looked left, an identical pair of doors stood equidistant from the elevators, marked with a similar placard indicating ‘Unit 62’. Both double doors within sight were windowed so I could see past the glass to some extent. Because of these windows, lights from inside both Units 62 and 64 were casting limited illumination into the hallway I was in. I could see several soldiers moving about in the halls of Unit 64, but from my position Unit 62 appeared deserted. No guards posted outside the unit, either. If the CO was inside, it didn’t make sense for the unit to my left to be unguarded.

I glanced up at the ceiling around the elevator landing to check for cameras, finding none. I then glanced over to Unit 64’s double doors to ensure I wasn’t being watched through the windows, then nimbly walked over to Unit 62’s double doors.

Placing my hand on the door’s handle, I pushed at it.

The door didn’t yield. I pushed at the other half of the double doors. Same result. Just for the sake of trying, I tried the same on both halves of the doors but pulling this time. Still no luck.

Locked. Well, I suppose it makes sense that the unit where a site lieutenant’s office is located would be secured in some way. I was glad to have come up on a roadblock – I was starting to wonder if I was walking into a trap, because I’d gotten this far into the enemy’s outpost with minimal resistance. Frankly, I’ve infiltrated more difficult terrorist hideouts that the comparatively lax security in a commandeered base being used by the United States Army was making me feel like there was a catch I wasn’t seeing.

Now, how to get inside…

I looked to my right and found a black, run-of-the-mill electronic card reader with a solid red horizontal light at the top edge of the reader. Unless someone tech savvy like Archer had repurposed or modified the security systems in the hospital, then the reader should accept a keycard of an authorized health care worker. Someone in this building must have a valid keycard for this door. But who? And where could I find them?

I looked to the left of the door and found an unmarked door that most likely led to a room janitors and custodians used to store cleaning supplies. I hadn’t seen any corpses of hospital personnel or cleaning staff since I entered the building, but if I could snag a keycard off a custodian, there was a good chance I’d be able to unlock Unit 62’s doors.

I was considering checking Unit 64 for clues as to where to find a valid keycard when a sharp ding jarred me from my thoughts. A second later, I heard one of the elevators behind me starting to open.

Instinctively, I dove into cover under the shadow of a functioning vending machine standing in a good-sized alcove between the elevator landing and the doors to Unit 62 just in time to hear the light thumps of boots heading in my direction.

I pressed myself flat against the side of the vending machine and froze, keeping my eyes on the hallway I had just vacated. I was thankful the hallway was poorly lit, so I shouldn’t attract any attention here as long as whoever was approaching didn’t want a can of pop.

With bated breath, I waited for the owner of the approaching footsteps to come into view. Not five seconds later, a man appeared and stopped at the doors to the unit, not even two metres away from where I was hiding. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with short, closely cropped hair and a wiry build. I watched him as he pulled a white and blue keycard out of his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding the grip of his M4, and held it up to the keycard reader. The reader emitted a small bip-bip-beep and the doors swung inward automatically, through which the soldier passed and vanished from sight. I waited until the doors had closed again before I relaxed a little.

This is a stealth mission, kid, my mentor’s words echoed in my mind. It is fundamental that as much as possible you stay out of sight and leave no traces of your intrusion behind. Use your surroundings to your advantage. Shadows and cover will be your best friends.

That guy who walked into Unit 62 is my way in. Just need to wait for him to come back out.

I stayed under the vending machine’s shadow, unmoving and silent, for about ten minutes until I heard the doors to Unit 62 opening again. Since it was dark, it was difficult to make out the fine details, but within a second of observation I identified the exiting soldier as the same one I’d seen enter the unit minutes earlier. Having freed my hands of the M4 carbine and instead opting for my tactical knife in my right hand, I waited until the soldier was just a little past my hiding spot before I darted out of cover. He was quite relaxed and oblivious to my presence that by the time I put my left hand on his right shoulder, he barely had any time to react.

After placing my free hand on the man’s right shoulder, I quickly maneuvered my body to his right side so that I was directly facing him. Without pausing, I used the side of my left foot to sweep his right foot forward, effectively throwing him off balance enough for me to use my left hand to pull the soldier backward. The resulting momentum of his lower body sliding forward and his upper body tilting back caused him to fall over backwards with a surprised yelp. Since he was holding his own carbine in both hands at the moment of my attack, he couldn’t quite bring up his arms to defend himself in time. Once he was further stunned by the impact of his back hitting the floor, I swiftly descended to a crouch at his side and brought the tip of my knife down on his chest, burying about half the length of the blade right above the man’s Kevlar vest, just above the breastbone and below where his thyroid would be. As soon as he started to make choking noises and I was sure he wouldn’t put up a fight anymore, I grabbed him by the shoulders and quickly hauled his twitching form through the janitors’ supply room to the left before he could start bleeding all over the hallway.

Once safely inside, I dragged him unceremoniously behind a pile of Kleenex boxes that were stacked right by the door, propping him up to a sitting position against the wall so that most of his body was hidden behind the boxes. By the time I yanked my blade out of his chest and wiped my knife clean on the sleeve of the soldier’s shirt, his pupils were fully dilated and his twitching had stopped entirely.

I sheathed my knife and tiptoed over to the supply room door. Peeking out a crack in the door, I glanced over in the direction of Unit 64 to check if there was any activity in that direction. Through the windows of the double doors I could still see soldiers walking past and milling about the unit clerks’ desk which stood just outside of view of the entrance. None of them were looking this way and they appeared as relaxed as they were when I first got to this floor. Good.

Popping back into the supply room, I crouched in front of the soldier I’d just dispatched and searched his pants pockets for the keycard I saw him use earlier. Extracting the white and blue keycard from him, I gave it a quick look. In the semidarkness I could make out the picture of a middle-aged woman of Indian heritage on one side of the card, Her name, ‘Malkeet Karim’, was printed in block letters below the shot of the woman’s face, and below the name was her position in the hospital: ‘Licensed Practical Nurse’.

I slipped the keycard into the pocket of my pants and drew up the right sleeve of my shirt to check my TACPAD for the time. It was now 1820; I was running behind schedule.

I stood by the supply room door and launched a voice channel to connect directly with Angel.

“Knight to Angel, come in.”

Her response was immediate. “Angel copies. Any luck?”

“Ran into a minor snag. Looks I’ll be in here longer than I expected.”

“Roger. Anything I can do from here?”

“Just watch the perimeter and inform me if anything happens.”

“Wilco.”

“Knight out.”

After cutting the call, I exited the supply room and retrieved my carbine from beside the vending machine. Checking again to make sure no attention was being directed my way from the confines of Unit 64 down the hall, I held up the keycard I acquired to the reader on the right side of the unit doors to 62.

Bip-bip-beep. The doors automatically swung inward. I slipped into the unit and took cover behind the empty unit clerks’ desk.

As far as I could see, the horseshoe-shaped hall of Unit 62 was deserted. The lights were all on though, so it would be all too easy to spot me walking through. I had a mind to locate some switchboard and give myself some shadow cover, but if there was anyone in this unit just staying silent, they were sure to notice lights going out and would most likely become suspicious. Other than the low humming of the ventilation system, the place was as quiet as a library.

Figuring the site CO would likely have commandeered the former unit manager’s office for some semblance of privacy, I stood up and began to quietly stalk down the left fork of the U-shaped hallway, sticking close to the wall on the left, carefully peering into each open suite before crossing thresholds. Most rooms were empty and unlocked, though nearly all of them were left in various states of dysfunction: blankets and pillows strewn across the floor, medical equipment knocked over, personal effects to the patients who once occupied the rooms scattered over beds and counters as if they were abandoned in a hurry. Where would patients have been taken?

When I was about halfway down the left fork of the hallway, I started to hear a muffled voice speaking from a closed office with a glass window beside a wooden door up ahead. The office itself was on the other side of this hallway, situated between the left and right forks of the unit. Glancing down the remained of the hallway to check for any other presences, I quietly crossed over to the right wall and flattened myself against it. I then inched closer to the edge of the window of the office, stopping when I could go no further without potentially exposing myself to whoever was inside. I carefully moved my head just a little over the edge of the glass, just enough so my left eye could peer into the office.

The office wasn’t a large one – just enough room for a desk that held a single PC monitor, a shelf full of binders, a couple of folding chairs across from the desk, and a coat rack just behind the door. At the desk, facing this way but with his eyes glued to the screen of a military-grade laptop set on top of the desk, was a soldier in his mid-thirties by my estimation. His black hair was much longer than regulation length and slicked back with what I assumed to be hair gel. He wore the same navy fatigues as all the other soldiers I’d seen here so far, though his lack of a ballistic vest and helmet, as well as the sleeves being rolled up to his elbows to reveal a tattoo of a cross on the outside of his left forearm, gave me the idea he was a cut above the grunts in the lobby or in Unit 64. Fitted in his left ear was a wireless Bluetooth earpiece, and the man appeared to be using it to talk to someone. Unfortunately, although I could hear the man talking from outside the closed office, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

My eye homed in on the laptop on the desk.

Lieutenant Evans, I presume? His laptop should have some valuable information in it. How can I gain access to it without the man discovering my presence?

Suddenly, the lieutenant rose from his chair, prompting me to whip my head back into cover. Before I was forced to discontinue my visual surveillance of the officer, I had an urgent feeling in my gut that he had gotten up from his seat with the intention of exiting the office.

I quickly glanced around my surroundings, searching for a place to hide. If he really was leaving his office, chances are he was leaving the unit. If that were the case, then he’d be headed up to the unit doors I accessed with my keycard.

Right now I was standing between Evans and those doors.

Damn, I swore under my breath. Without sparing another thought where exactly to hide, I dropped to a crouch and crept underneath the window and past the office door as quietly and quickly as I could. Past the office, the hall curved around and led to the opposite fork of the horseshoe corridor. Once I was clear of the window’s field of view, I straightened up and darted around the bend in the hallway. I’d only just managed to hide myself from sight of the left fork when I heard the wooden office door creak slightly and a pair of boots thudded out less than five metres away from where I was flattened against the wall and hoping the lieutenant wouldn’t come my way for whatever reason.

“Knight? Knight, do you copy?” Angel abruptly spoke into my ear.

I couldn’t answer her initially, as Evans was still in the process of shutting the office door. Even a murmur would be audible from this distance. I waited until I heard the office door clicking shut and the officer’s footsteps moving down the hallway, away from my poor hiding spot and toward the unit’s exit before I poked my head around the bend in time to see the lieutenant’s tall figure retreating down the hall, eventually vanishing as he took a left turn at the end of the corridor toward the same doors I’d gone through to get inside.

“Knight,” Angel’s voice picked up in urgency. She was clearly anxious now. “Knight!”

I exhaled softly and tapped my earpiece. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

I thought I heard Angel sigh on her end, though with a breeze taking up a considerable portion of my audio I couldn’t be sure of that.

“We’ve got activity in front of the lobby,” she reported, “Three transport trucks just pulled up in front of the main entrance and unloaded at least twenty soldiers. A few are forming a defensive perimeter around the trucks but most are entering the lobby.”

Making sure the lieutenant wasn’t actually coming back to his office, I walked back to the office door and chewed over Angel’s sitrep. If there were multiple transport trucks up front, then my best guess was that they were here for prisoner transport. If so, then the prisoners in this location must be elsewhere in the hospital.

“Understood,” I responded tersely, grabbing the doorknob of the lieutenant’s office door. I turned it, finding the door unlocked. “Continue to observe.”

“Roger. Be advised, if you’re going to exfil anytime soon you might want to take a different route. The lobby is—”

Angel stopped talking abruptly.

“Angel?” I said as I pushed open the door and stepped into the office.

“Wait one,” she said sharply. While she was quiet, I took the opportunity to settle down on the seat Evans was sitting in.

I pressed a random key to bring the laptop out of sleep mode. I was expecting a login screen to appear, but instead I was met with what appeared to be a plain black desktop screen with only five or six icons on the top left portion of the screen. Evidently the laptop had gone to sleep only a minute or so ago before I woke it up again, fortunately allowing me to access it without having to enter a password I didn’t know.

Sloppy, Lieutenant, I said silently, Archer would faint if she saw how unsecured you left your laptop.

I clicked the first icon on the top, a folder icon labelled simply as ‘Files’.

As a list of subfolders showed up on a file explorer window, Angel spoke up again. “Knight, the HVT is on site. Repeat, HVT is on site.”

I froze in my seat. “The major?”

“Affirmative,” Angel confirmed promptly, “I’ve got eyes on Bradley Steele. He just stepped out of the cab of the first truck.”

“Solid copy. Keep your eyes on him. I’m accessing the site CO’s laptop now.”

I quickly ran my eyes down the ten or so subfolders in ‘Files’. I double clicked on the third subfolder, labelled ‘Prisoner Logs’.

There were probably over a hundred .pdf files inside, same as when we found a list of prisoners from the data we extracted that allowed us to pinpoint Angel’s exact location. This time around I wasn’t interested in names, but rather where each prisoner was going, or for what purpose they were being taken away from the rest. I quickly skimmed over a few of the .pdf files, each containing a head shot of and basic information of the person the file was about. After clicking through half a dozen or so of the files, I noticed that much like the data we acquired from the other outpost, the prisoners listed on this subfolder were all rather young – roughly evenly divided between males and females, but all of them were aged below thirty. I still wasn’t sure if the similarity in ages between each prisoner was significant at all, but I had the feeling that it was.

I stopped clicking on random prisoner files and kept scrolling down to the bottom of the subfolder, trying to keep an eye out for a file with a significantly different name than the seemingly uniform string of six-digit numbers and letters that was assigned to each prisoner.

“Steele just entered the lobby,” Angel relayed to me, sounding acutely focused through the comms, “He’s talking to another soldier. Looks like an officer.”

“What does the other officer look like?” I asked, continuing to scroll down, nearly at the bottom of the subfolder’s contents now, judging from the look of my cursor.

“Long hair, slicked back. Same navy fatigues, but his sleeves are pulled up to the elbows. Pretty distinct cross tattoo on his left forearm.”

“That’s Lieutenant Evans, the site CO. It’s his laptop I’m raiding.”

Finally reaching the bottom of the ‘Prisoner Logs’ subfolder, I found no file names that stood out to me. I backtracked to the list of subfolders in ‘Files’. I double clicked on another subfolder named ‘Emails’.

Inside the subfolder were numerous transcripts of messages the lieutenant received through what must be a secure intranet email used by Army officers to communicate with each other. They were all in plain .txt format, so it was difficult to single out any important transcripts without thoroughly going through each one. I focused on viewing the subject lines of the lieutenant’s most recent messages, skipping ones about troop deployments and routine logistics reports from lower ranking Army personnel. Eventually, I came upon one transcript from a certain ‘b.steele’ username, which I took to mean Bradley Steele, the major in charge of prisoner management. I leaned closer toward the screen to read the subject line and body of the email:





Date: December 27, 2020, 15:48

Subject: Prisoner Transfers



Lieutenant,



I would advise you not to discuss the purpose of these prisoner detainments even on this secure network. While I am unable to provide you with the rationale behind what the prisoners are used for, know that the information is highly classified and goes beyond the scope of the United States Armed Forces. To be blunt, the matter is larger than you or me, and all you need to know is that there are powerful people outside of the Army who have arranged for us to act as a means with which to procure the prisoners. Where the prisoners go once they leave our jurisdiction, or what ultimate purpose they serve is not our concern.

Simply continue to supply more from your sector during the appointed collection times. See the attached map image for the drop-off location should I instruct you to directly transfer the prisoners. The location has been changed as of yesterday, following the neutralization of the last pocket of resistance in the city. Relay the information to the drivers as necessary but refrain from prying into the matter any further. That is an order.

Maj. Bradley Steele





There was no attached map thanks to the file being only an email transcript in .txt format, but I quickly backed out of the file and ‘Emails’ subfolder in search of another subfolder that might contain the mentioned image. The last subfolder in ‘Files’ named ‘Email Data’ seemed to be appropriate, so I double clicked on it. Just as with the ‘Prisoner Logs’ subfolder, this one contained a long list of files ranging from simple .txt formatted ones, to .pdf and .jpeg. Fortunately, most of them appeared to have been titled by the date the corresponding data was received, as shown by the MMDDYY format. I clicked on the ‘Date Created’ heading to bring the more recently created files to the top of the list and ran my eyes down the list until I found a .jpeg file labelled ‘122720’. I double clicked on the file and waited a few seconds for the image viewer to load.

What came up was a small portion of a map. From a glance it was hard to ascertain where exactly within the city this location was, but a black X marked what appeared to be a fairly wide, open space in the middle of several buildings, and to the east side of the marked point was what appeared to be a major highway. As I stared intently at the image, Angel’s urgent voice came through on my earpiece again.

“Knight, are you still there? You need to get out now if you’re still in the office.”

“What’s the matter?” I demanded, straightening up in my seat.

“Evans and Steele are leaving the lobby, heading in the direction of the elevators. Suspect they’re headed your way.”

No time to analyze this intel here, then. I stood up from the seat and removed my TACPAD from my wrist brace.

“Copy that, grabbing the intel and exfiltrating now.”

I loaded up the TACPAD’s camera function and held the device up to the laptop’s screen, I snapped a few pictures of the image on screen, then maneuvered back to the associated email transcript and snapped pictures of the message too. When all that was done, I replaced my TACPAD in the dock of my wrist brace.

I closed all file explorer windows until the desktop was back to how I originally found it, then set the laptop to sleep mode manually. I picked my rifle up off the floor and left the lieutenant’s office, making sure to close the door properly.

I made my way down the hall in the direction of the unit exit. As I was making my way toward the exit at a brisk pace, I recalled what Angel said earlier about the main entrance and the lobby being highly active at the moment. Leaving through the west entrance would mean crossing the lobby first. Taking the east entrance would mean having to traverse the brightly illuminated east parking lot where I would most likely be spotted by the soldiers at the intersection of 45th Street and Seton Boulevard. The parking lot was actually empty of soldiers, so if I’m spotted there alone by the checkpoint soldiers, I was bound to attract someone curious on my way back to Angel’s position. So far I hadn’t raised any alarms, so my disguise should allow me to evade suspicion or mingle with the other soldiers in the lobby, but once I started acting out of the ordinary I’d raise eyebrows, disguise or no disguise.

I opened Unit 62’s doors and slipped out onto the elevator landing of the eighth floor. As I approached the elevators, I decided quickly to make my way through the lobby and exit the hospital via the west entrance. Before I could press the down button, the one elevator to my right emitted a dreadful ding and a couple seconds later the doors opened.

Four men stepped out. The first was Lieutenant Evans. The man beside the lieutenant was in his forties, with a mix of black and gray hair cut short to regulation length. His blue-gray eyes and seemingly perpetual frown confirmed for me that this was none other than Major Bradley Steele, the officer in charge of managing detainments and transfers of prisoners in the city. I instinctively stood aside and snapped to with a firm salute.

I followed standard military conduct when in the presence of a higher ranking officer – while I saluted, I avoided looking into the major’s eyes, instead opting to look over his head. As he passed me with his two other soldiers at his flanks, he stopped for a moment and glanced at me.

The lieutenant and the other two accompanying soldiers stopped alongside him and followed the major’s gaze. I kept still in my crisp pose as the major slowly rounded on me and seared me with his gaze.

“Going somewhere, Private Harper?” Steele appraised me with suspicious curiosity.

“Yes sir, heading to the café, sir!” I rattled back, hoping my spotty military man impression would be good enough. Since I wasn’t military, I was sure my impression of an Army private may have holes. I could only hope they weren’t noticeable at the moment.

As Steele continued to stare me down, I quickly darted my eyes over to Unit 62’s doors. They had swung shut before the lieutenant and the major stepped out of the elevator, fortunately. If I played the part of a dumb grunt satisfactorily I shouldn’t arouse much suspicion here.

All of a sudden, the mental image of my first meeting with Angel – Christina Valentine – flashed in my mind. I recalled my solo assault of the Saddledome, fighting my way through at least a couple dozen soldiers before I located the newly appointed Shadow XO in a locked storage room. After I dispatched the soldier who was holding her captive, I found Angel bound by her wrists and dangling from the ceiling. I remembered how pale and weak she was, clearly suffering from hunger, exhaustion, and prolonged exposure to the elements. I tried not to think too much of her state at the time, but for some reason recalling what these invaders had done to her now abruptly and rapidly filled me with that familiar burning sensation deep in my gut.

Kill him.

I struggled to remain still even as my left hand itched to lash forward at the man standing tantalizingly within arm’s reach.

This is the piece of scum in charge of the ones who nearly killed Angel.

I recalled how Angel’s jeans at the moment I saw her had come undone, even revealing the top of her underwear. I didn’t have to ask her what I had interrupted; it was painfully obvious. If I hadn’t decided to launch the rescue op then, if we’d waited another day instead—

My heart began to hammer against my ribs, and its rapid beating started to partly deafen my ears. My hand which gripped the handguard of the M4 tightened around the weapon.

You know what that soldier was going to do to Angel, don’t you? This filth in front of you now is the one who let it happen. He’s the one in charge of what happens to prisoners.

I needed to take some deep breaths, but with the major practically in my face, I couldn’t do that. I had no choice but to simmer where I stood.

Kill him. It’ll be easy, you know that. You’ve done as much to more than four at once all by yourself.

No, I argued with the animal voice silently. Engaging now was beyond risky. I wasn’t carrying a suppressed weapon. There were soldiers in Unit 64 right behind me. The two with the major looked tense, and I caught one of them starting to place his finger close to the inside of the trigger guard of his rifle.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM.

I couldn’t help myself – I opened my mouth beneath the balaclava and drew breath through it, trying to be as quiet as I could about it.

What would you have done if you found a corpse instead of a living person dangling from that rope, Ian?

Shut up, I silently growled back at the all-too familiar voice. Shut up. Now isn’t the time. Angel is fine. She’s right outside, keeping an eye on the main entrance and waiting for me to come out.

“Major,” Lieutenant Evans abruptly spoke in a tentative tone that hinted at impatience, “Sir, we really should get to my office. There are plenty of matters to discuss.”

Steele eyed me closely for a few more seconds, then retreated a couple steps. Without further addressing me, he turned back to the lieutenant.

“Very well,” he said stiffly. With that, the major passed me and walked alongside the lieutenant toward the doors I had just exited through.

I watched, frozen in place, until the major and his subordinates vanished behind the double doors to Unit 62. When they had gone, I took a moment to collect myself. Sometime during the moment I was being scrutinized by the major, sweat had gathered on my forehead, staining that area of my balaclava.

Once I had calmed down, I pressed the button on the wall and took the next elevator down to the first floor.

Once I was in the elevator, I removed my helmet and peeled off my balaclava. I wiped the sweat on my forehead with the sleeve of my uniform.

I felt extremely hot in this garb all of a sudden. It used to feel fine, but ever since the near-incident up on eight, I wanted nothing more than to tear these clothes and be rid of them. I resisted the irrational urge.

For now, I needed to exfil.





New movement within the lobby caught my eye. I trained Knight’s binoculars slightly to the right. Through the windows in the lobby, I could see a line of civilians being herded toward the lobby entrance by several soldiers. It was too easy to spot the civilians apart from the soldiers; for one, they were clothed in various colours rather than the standard navy blue. For another, they walked in a distinctly lethargic and clumsy manner, which contrasted sharply with the soldiers’ comparatively purposeful movements. I tracked the prisoners’ journey across the lobby and onto the backs of the three transport trucks. With a pang of regret, I remembered my own experience as a prisoner at the hands of these soldiers – how only I got out with support while the others had to fend for themselves.

Where are they being taken? To the Stampede grounds? Somehow I found it hard to believe they’d be taken there after Shadow effectively made a mess of the place by staging that jailbreak. Then again, unfortunately it was reasonable to think that not every detainee may have escaped in the chaos and the camp was fortified further since I escaped from it.

I watched as one by one the prisoners vanished from view and entered the trucks. Something I noticed, same as when I was in captivity myself, was that all the unfortunate souls being ushered aboard the vehicles were younger folks: lots of twenty-somethings, some teenagers, and even a dozen or so children who may even have been under the age of ten.

I clenched my hands tightly over the binoculars, seething. It was one thing to imprison grown women and men, but to do the same to children was another. I didn’t even know why exactly younger prisoners were being segregated from older ones. At first I had thought that these sick bastards only wanted a steady supply of vulnerable people to bully and physically and sexually abuse to their enjoyment. However, the more I thought about the situation, the more I believed there was something I wasn’t seeing yet. The presence of men in their late twenties among the group of thirty or so being herded onto the truck seemed to support my hunch that they weren’t being used strictly as playthings for bored Army soldiers.

As about half of the soldiers who came in the trucks loaded back in them again as well, I lowered the binoculars and moved my hand up to my left ear with the intention of giving Knight an update on what I was seeing. I’d gotten so caught up in observing the injustice ahead of me that I only just realized that the Shadow leader had gone silent for the last ten minutes or so. Before I could tap my earpiece to raise him however, a sudden presence manifested itself to my left and crouched down beside me.

I reflexively lifted my Vector halfway before recognizing the man in navy fatigues who had now shed his helmet and balaclava.

“Oh Jesus, it’s just you,” I exhaled heavily, relaxing my grip on my weapon.

Knight still had that same nonplussed look as he always did. Evidently, he hadn’t had any trouble infiltrating the hospital and exfiltrating after. Judging by how the place didn’t appear to be on alert since his exit, he’d gotten in and out without leaving traces of his presence. I suppose he really was the spectre the C.O.S. rumours made him out to be. It wasn’t a cakewalk to head into an enemy stronghold with next to no intel and come out alive, much less without the enemy being privy to the intrusion.

He glanced at the trucks ahead, which had just started its engines. “Sitrep,” he said quietly.

“Prisoner transport. I counted around thirty plus civilians being loaded into the backs of those trucks. There were plenty of young adults, but there were teens and even children among them, too. Just like back at the Stampede,” I answered, glaring at the vehicles as the lead truck began to pull away from the front of the hospital, seeming to pull the other two behind it.

He didn’t appear surprised. “I see.”

“Knight, shouldn’t we be stopping this?” I asked him, watching as the trucks made a U-turn ahead of us and accelerated east down Front Street.

Knight glanced at me and met my eyes. “We are. But we can’t attack here, now. We need to find a better opportunity than attempting another springing in another enemy outpost.”

“But—” I started to protest, but logically I knew he was right. Even in the severely slim possibility we could hijack those trucks here, potentially every hostile within the immediate vicinity would respond quickly to prevent us from escaping. We’d be risking the prisoners getting caught in the ensuing crossfire.

“—I understand,” I finished, convincing myself next time we’d be ready to liberate detainees from these convoys.

He nodded twice in quick succession. “Good. Be ready to move out in five. We’re heading back to our transport.”

With that, he gathered up his clothes and once more retreated further into the fields to change out of the Army uniform. I turned my attention back to the hospital lobby. There were considerably more enemy soldiers there now, perhaps a dozen or so more than there were before. Knight picked a hell of a time to exfil, what with the increase in security and the presence of Steele in the building.

Once Knight had changed back to his own clothes and gear, we retraced our steps back to the truck, finding the trek largely uneventful. When we reached our transport, Knight took a moment to update Genel and Josh about our half of the operation and let the two know we were on our way back to Haven. As for the other two members of Shadow, they informed us they were still moving on foot toward the Peter Lougheed Centre and would most definitely not be back at Haven before midnight. After telling them to continue providing hourly status updates, Knight started the truck and drove us back to Haven.

The entire drive back was the same as the drive to the city: quiet and without a single word exchanged between us. At some point I wanted to ask about whatever intel Knight had acquired tonight, but when I glanced at him I noticed that despite still seeming largely emotionless, there seemed to be a slightly ‘hard’ look in his eyes. It was like he was deep in thought about something and didn’t want to be disturbed. The subtlest of frowns had since formed at his lips. None of these changes in his otherwise neutral demeanour were easy to perceive, but somehow I was able to tell not so much because I saw them, but rather from the strangely dark aura Knight seemed to project at that moment.

I decided to leave him be for now and resigned myself to looking out my window for the rest of the trip.