Sunset Volume 2: High Noon

Natal, Brazil

The days felt like weeks, waiting in Natal to let Alyosha recover enough to move on. Hannah and Reeve scavenged Jonathan’s apartment for anything they could use, then hunkered down on the plane. They didn’t want to move Alyosha, and anyway, there’d be too many questions if they’d all stayed in his apartment without Jonathan there.

Reeve was trying to not think about it. There was nothing more he could do for him, besides use his telepathy to keep anyone from investigating the smashed up, bloody car with Jonathan in the backseat until they were gone. His face pulled at his mind, but the others needed him there and now to keep them alive.

The plane was close, confining, and quiet. They were all too shook up to gripe.

Alyosha was resting and Hannah had him set up with IV fluids for all the blood he’d lost. He was in pain and wouldn’t be able to use his left arm very well for a while, which meant that he couldn’t be in the cockpit alone, but Reeve didn’t think that would be too much of a problem since it was nearly impossible to get Alex away from his side, anyway. He stuck by him quietly, not saying much, sort of keeping guard.

Hannah had looked Alex over and given him something to calm down, and put his arm back in the sling. No serious damage done, but he had a bruise on his lower back that looked bad enough it made Reeve cringe, sending a zing of pain down to his toes

Gareth left that first night before dawn. Reeve hadn’t been able to bring himself to stop him. Shvedov and Alex were asleep, and Reeve was busy cleaning and re-bandaging Hannah’s side again after her romp through the bushes when he noticed Gareth going for the door.

“Hey,” he said, too surprised for anything else.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“No.” He tried to make his tired voice sound final.

Gareth clenched his fists. “Are you going to fight me on this after tonight?”

Reeve lowered his eyes. “No.”

He had come back late the next morning, a little drunk and with a new rip in his shirt. Reeve didn’t bother checking why. That was the tone of the majority of Reeve's interactions these days. After the initial shock and relief at his reunion with the others, even Alex was distant and wounded. The plane was quiet and tense and full of minds tracing every problem back to him. It was easy to blame Reeve. He knew it was justified.

Reeve was used to pissing off Gareth and even Hannah, but he didn’t realize how painful it would be to feel Alex this hurt by him. Not annoyed, not pissed, not angry—betrayed. It ached like an old wound.

By the second morning, Shvedov felt he could manage. (He had said he could manage the day before, but Reeve made him take one more night. He liked their chances better if they had to fight off Neptune again, compared to potentially having to have someone other than Alyosha fly the plane on their own.)

As they readied the plane to take off, Alex settled himself into the copilot seat. They were a sight, he and Shvedov, each with an arm bound close to his chest. Two good right arms between them. Reeve stood in the doorway, watching and keeping passive track of Shvedov’s mind, checking for doubt.

“Alyosha said I could sit here,” Alex said defensively, even before Reeve had spoken up. He must have had that look on his face. He knew Alex could recognize when he was about to tell him to do something.

Reeve raised an eyebrow. “He might need help.”

“Do you know more about how to fly a plane than I do?”

“No, but I can read his thoughts faster than he can give instructions.”

“Reeve,” Shvedov put up his one hand to stop him. “It is fine. I told him he could sit up here. The plane is not so big that if I yell you will not hear it.”

Alex was looking at him, waiting for him to answer. In that moment, there was none of the anger and resentment in his eyes that had been burning slowly through the rest of his team. Reeve nodded without saying anything.

“Then you should tell our copilot where we are going,” Shvedov smiled. Alex beamed wickedly. The two of them could become formidable partners for Reeve to contend with together.

“East. To Liberia.”

“Africa?” Alex said, eyes wide. The itch in his head told Reeve that he’d been loud enough for the others to hear and react.

“Yes. Natal to Liberia is one of the shortest routes across the Atlantic.”

Gareth and Hannah came up behind him, crowding into the narrow hall. “We’re crossing the Atlantic Ocean?” Gareth demanded, startled. “In this thing?”

“We need to get more distance between us and LA and we need it yesterday,” Reeve offered.

“Is it big enough?” Hannah asked.

Just barely was not the answer they wanted to hear, and Reeve looked at Shvedov.

“No problem,” Alyosha told them, keeping eye contact with Reeve. Alyosha turned to smile at Alex. “So I hope you like a view of the ocean, because we’ve got about six hours of it.”

“Then where?” Gareth asked, shifting his weight.

“Then we don’t stay anywhere very long. We keep moving.”

Alyosha waved his hand at them. “Everyone should go sit down so we can go. Go sit down and relax.” He kept Reeve’s eye silently for a moment after the other two had turned to go back to their seats. They didn’t exchange thoughts, but his look made it clear that the last part was meant for Reeve.

---

Natal, Brazil.

Gerrit studied the photo he’d been sent and reached for it, teleporting a continent away. Right away, he was hit with the oppressive heat and a god awful smell.

He’d given the few nonresponsive teams in South America as much leeway as he could stand, trying to avoid blowing his entire relationship with them right off the bat, trusting that this petty grudge wouldn’t keep them from doing the right thing when it came down to it. He’d been dead wrong.

When a single team remained in radio blackout by the end of his personal deadline, Gerrit sent in another team to trace their GPS signal. He’d expected to get a report back about a team annoyed at being micromanaged. Instead, they found the team’s car damaged and abandoned.

Footage from the dash cam showed that the team had actually gotten custody of 45C. Had him in their car, and still didn’t report in. They must have decided to press their luck so as not to lose this lead on the other three. That prompted an all-hands sweep outward to find them, checking old safe houses in the area. Any spark of hope was dashed by the phone call that they’d been found.

Spread across the sandy clearing were a series of white sheets laid across what could only be bodies. They were far enough from the beaten path that there were no witnesses to manage, so a group of agents were taking a break from the worst of the sun under the tent Cleanup had set up for their mobile command.

Gerrit approached the body closest to the tent, doing his best to ignore the hum of flies. Penn appeared at his side just as he was bending down. Sweat was darkening the hair at Penn’s temples, not surprising in this heat and the weight of his blacks.

“If you don’t have to do that, I wouldn’t,” Penn told him.

Gerrit continued to go into a crouch. “It’s my name on the assignment. I’m here to make sure they get home okay.” He lifted the corner of the sheet. Three days in the heat had not been kind. There were things you couldn't unsee. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Who the fuck were these Icarus, that they coud take down teams like this? They’d killed seven Neptune agents now after showing up from the obscurity of a common Moon team.

“Your Icarus didn’t do this,” Penn told him.

“What are you talking about?”

“That was Entropy.”

The idea wasn’t bringing any sort of comfort. They were still dead. Gerrit stood to better look from sheet to sheet, trying to judge their size. “They had one of my Icarus in custody.”

“The student isn’t here. My people looked. There was an open pair of cuffs in the dirt by the car. It looks like he got away.”

It could have been a relief of sorts—that he wasn’t about to find the body of someone they desperately wanted to bring home, if it weren’t for the rest of everything, and the fact that they were no closer to getting hands on these Icarus.

Gerrit fought to get his head around it all. “Did Entropy take him with them when they found him with the agents? Or are the Icarus working with Entropy, and had them come break their foster student out?” That would be a whole other beast of a task.

“I doubt either. Entropy isn't about to balk at age to spare someone. And this is a long way for Icarus to travel to hook up with Entropy. It’s not as if they don’t have a presence in the States.”

So they were nowhere. “What does your psychometrist say?” He felt like he remembered talking to one about Cleanup in the Neptune break room.

“We don’t have one in LA anymore,” Penn said, voice tight. “The knack became too much and psychosis took over. She’s on a Pluto hold, on a waitlist to have her knack deactivated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He swallowed and made a mental note to check in with Sage later, to see if there was anything he could do, or at least where he could send flowers. With a shudder, he brought himself back to task. “Why do you think it was Entropy?”

Penn breathed out through his nose. “Most of this wasn’t scavenging. This was a Phage.”

He froze up, his mind straying back to the gruesome, mangled flesh. “How sure are you?”

Penn didn’t waver. “I think I know what those teeth marks look like.”

That didn’t make any sense. “Why would they attack my team?”

He shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time, most likely. There’s a strong Entropy presence just north of here. They aren’t keen on Sol infringing.”

He shot Penn a look. “How do you know that?” Entropy intel had become sparser and sparser over the last decade or so, even on Entropy’s major hubs, let alone in a country where Sol had limited presence.

“Because it’s our job to clean up after the messes they leave,” Penn explained, without reacting to his look. “It gives a decent clue as to where they are. Too many of our callouts are for bodies with this kind of damage.”

Gerrit nodded absently. It was easy to forget that Cleanup didn’t just take care of Sol’s exposures. There was no point in hiding Sol just to let Entropy blow the whole thing up.

“I’m sorry about your team,” Penn said. “Really. But your Icarus are long gone and you should focus on that. I’ll make sure your people are brought to LA safely to be laid to rest.”

He nodded. Gerrit had too much on his plate now to be able to spend a full day accompanying fallen agents, as much as he wanted to. “Yeah.”

“So, how fucked are you?” he asked sympathetically.

“They planned for this and they have a small plane,” he sighed. “I’ll activate our people in Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, and Lima, but with a three day lead, they could be anywhere on the continent.” He turned back to Penn. He wished he knew the guy better before prying, but he was starting in the weeds. “Icarus tend to head for the Church—do you have any insights I could pick your brain over?”

Penn’s eyebrows drew together as he thought. “Honestly, if your Icarus saw what the Phagi did here, I imagine they’re thinking twice about taking advantage of the Church’s edict of protection. The Children of God hunt these things. They go looking for them.”

“Yeah, but how often do they actually find them?” Like most people in Sol, the Anthropophagi were more or less off of Gerrit’s radar. If he had to estimate how many there were in the world, the number would have been relatively low.

A muscle jumped in Penn’s jaw. “All the time.” He said it slowly. “I couldn’t even tell you how many Phagi I saw when I was in the Church.” Penn raked a hand through his hair. “The Church is tidier than Entropy, they make an effort, but we clean up the Church’s messes too. I’ve only got a select number of Cleanup teams we send out who have the stomach to deal with Phagi victims, and they’re busy. I’m telling you, if your Icarus are smart, they’re seeing this shit and steering clear.”

Gerrit's heart sank. The idea that this sort of attack was more than a sporadic phenomenon was a dreadful, heavy thing that he didn't have proper words for. But that was the benefit of telepaths—he didn’t have to. When Gerrit would normally have needed to look away, attempting to grasp some sort of words that even remotely fit the gravity of what he was being told, instead he just looked at Penn and felt. Penn held his gaze for a moment and Gerrit felt a gentle nudge of his telepathy. Penn understood.

“Go.” Penn clapped him on the back. “Run ‘em down. We’ve got this covered.”

“Thank you.” Gerrit looked from one sheet to the next. He’d make sure to plan something for when they were brought back to LA. “I’m grateful for it.”

“I know you are. I’m glad you’re on the team.”

---

Swansea, UK.

One thing that Hannah appreciated about their team leader being a telepath was that she never had to tell him when she thought he was insane. He knew and he’d either defend himself or ignore it. She wished whether he defended himself or not was a consistent indicator of just how terrible an idea it was he was having—but life just wasn’t that simple.

They had been moving at a breakneck pace since they arrived on the African continent: straight up the West coast, up into Spain and briefly in France, pausing only long enough so as not to run Alyosha into the ground. They almost never left the plane. It’s not as though Hannah had wanted to stay in Africa long-term; even setting aside that there was a Sol HQ in Egypt, there was a huge Mars presence throughout the central and Southern regions of the continent. A better alternative, however, wasn’t, in Hannah’s opinion, landing in Wales in the UK—a relatively small island where there was a major SolCorp Office right in Manchester.

She and Alex were peering out the window into the dim light on a grey-green countryside beyond the airfield. It was late and they were all tired. The door opened and Reeve and Alyosha came back in after doing whatever it was the two of them did to avoid whatever customs hang ups were in place to keep people like them out.

“How long are we staying this time?” Alex asked, sounding glum.

“Hopefully, a while,” Reeve said, latching the door and then leaning his back against it.

Hannah sat up straight. “Wait, are you serious?”

Reeve paused, nodding. “If things go as planned.”

“Things going as planned is maybe not what we’re best at,” Alex pointed out.

Reeve gave a long sigh. The bruising around his eye was fading to a sallow shade of yellow and it made him look more like himself. “Well, our ride just pulled in so, so far so good. Start grabbing some bags to last us a few days.”

“The plane?” Gareth asked. His energy was tight and anxious.

“This is a much bigger airport. It won’t look out of place and we’ve bribed folks to keep it off customs’ radar.” Reeve pushed himself up to open the door and lower the stairway. He leaned out the doorway and raised one hand, waving.

“What about Manchester?” Hannah called, standing up and throwing on a baggy t-shirt. Alex and Gareth froze momentarily at the question before going back to gathering their things.

“We won’t be here that long, and they’re not going to think that we’d be stupid enough to come so close to a base.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “How long do you think you can bank on them still thinking you’re an idiot and not figuring out that you’re crazy?”

“Maybe a little longer.”

A loud female voice came from outside the door. “Jesus Christ, Reeve! I was expecting you to show up in some little propeller thing!”

Hannah caught the genuine smile that crossed Reeve’s face before he leaned to grab her hand and help her up the stairs onto the plane. “We had a lot of miles to cover,” he replied.

She was older than Hannah expected, with a full head of short, silver hair. She spoke with an American accent, but with a touch of the type of lilt you hear in Irish or Welsh dialects. Stepping onto the plane, she was as tall as Reeve, with a strong, erect posture.

She hugged him tightly, craning her head to kiss his cheek. “It’s so good to see your face!” she crowed. In another world, they could have looked like mother and son.

“You too.” When she released him, Reeve turned and said, “This is Maggie Dalton. Maggie, you can probably guess the rest.”

She smiled at them. Her eyes were quick and grey. “Yes, I bet I can. Nice to finally meet you.”

Gareth gave her a clipped, “Hi,” and turned to Reeve. “I’m not liking how many people I’ve never heard of act like they already know me.”

“She should be the last one.”

“That’s not as comforting as you want it to be.”

“No, he’s right,” Maggie broke in. “You have to admit it’s a little creepy. I can make up for it with alcohol and real beds.” She glanced around and clucked her tongue. “You look pretty knocked around.”

When Gareth didn’t answer, Hannah nodded. “That sounds great,” she said, and flashed her eyes at him as she loaded her bags on her shoulders.

Outside, she led them to a long, dark van. “Hey, space for all of us this time,” Alex laughed. Maggie slid open the backseat door for them and they climbed in, with Reeve pressing through to sit in front with Maggie.

“Now I don’t want to misrepresent myself here,” she said, putting the van into gear. “The only reason there’s room enough in here for you all to fit is because Reeve let me know you were all coming. Normally it’s a terrible mess with piles as tall as you.”

“What’s it normally filled with?” Alex asked, peering around.

She smirked back at them in the rearview. “A lady never tells.” Gareth snorted an involuntary laugh. “Oh, and I’ve got neighbors, so I told them that my nephew and his wife are visiting with a few of their friends. In case it comes up.”

“Wife?” Reeve coughed.

“Was that unreasonable?”

His brow lowered. “No.”

She laughed low and Hannah bit her lips on a tight smile. “Relax now,” Maggie told him, giving his knee a light smack with the back of her hand. “It’s only fifteen minutes until home.”

Hannah set her head on Gareth’s shoulder. Objectively, he was a terrible pillow, but after so long, the hard bulk of him was a comfort by association and she was asleep before they got into the city.

---

Reeve had never seen her house. He knew, of course, that she had moved out of the flat he’d set her up with years ago, but they never really chatted about what she bought, other than to make sure there would be enough room, just in case.

Just in case. Looking back, he could see how much that thought had dominated his life. He didn’t feel badly about it.

Maggie lived up a hill on a dead end street that overlooked the city, lit up beside the pitch darkness of the sea just beyond it. It was a tall, thin house in a row of others shaped much the same and pressed nearly end to end. He wanted to see more, but his eyes burned with lost hours of sleep and long vigils as they sat parked in small airstrips while Alyosha and the others slept.

With the houses so crowded together, they were silent as they carried their bags inside. Once inside, with the lights low, he could see her home was one part cozy comforts with too many pillows and thick rugs, and one part piles of coiled wires on the floor next to books with something heavy keeping them open to a certain page.

“Well,” Maggie said, “you all need to sleep. We can get to the rest tomorrow. Bathroom is through the kitchen and there’s another upstairs. There’s a guest room here and one upstairs. The couch folds out and I went and bought a cot, but it’s about as comfortable as a punch in the spine, so if I were you, I’d opt for sharing the beds.”

Suddenly standing in the soft light, safe (for the moment) and steady inside four solid walls, the tension in them sagged and felt heavy. They were all dead on their feet. “Thank you,” was all Reeve could manage for a moment while he scratched at his head. “I’ll take the couch.” He caught Shvedov’s eye. “You should take one of those beds.” He nodded and forced an appreciative smile. Reeve could tell he was in a lot more pain than he’d ever admit to. He saw Gareth motion to Hannah with his head and the two of them headed upstairs. Maggie showed Shvedov to the guest room and after a moment, Alex stepped in to help Reeve unfold the sofa bed. He was too quiet, but Reeve stayed out of his head. If he was still pissed, Reeve snooping to see for sure wasn’t going to help.

Alex tossed a few pillows from the floor up onto the bed and gave him a glum, tired smile. “Night,” he said, picking up his bag gingerly and heading off in the direction that Maggie had led Shvedov.

“Get some rest,” Reeve told him.

Maggie passed him on his way by and came back into the living room to sit in an armchair while Reeve finished making up the sofa bed. Really, it was already made and he was just fussing with it, which was likely why she hadn’t offered to help. She waited quietly for him to sit down on the bed. He felt guilty laying on clean sheets without showering, but the hot water would have him sleeping standing up.

“It’s a nice house.”

“It is.” She looked around automatically. She sat and waited while he leaned down to take off his shoes and didn’t continue until he was settled and looking at her. “How are you?”

“We’re okay. Exhausted, sore. But we’re alright.”

“Not them. Not the collective you. How are you doing?”

“Don’t,” Reeve sighed.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Don’t you ‘don’t’ me.”

He dropped his head to push the heels of his hands against his eyes. He couldn’t mentally afford to have this conversation. She worried about him. Always did. Reeve knew that her son had been about his age when he died. “I’m fine. I’ve been preparing for this for years.”

“Things are almost never like how we expect them to feel. They don’t seem too happy with you.”

“You read minds, huh?”

She cocked her head. “Cute.”

“I’m fine, really. Please.” He looked at her, felt her mind. He wanted to alter it and push her off this subject, but something about the position of her hands in her lap, the way one gripped the other just a little too tightly, made him stop. “Please,” he said softly instead, “let it be.”

She let out a deflated breath. “Well, of course you can tell I will.” She stood up and gave his shoulder a pat with a smile. “Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

Reeve laughed and watched her head upstairs. He looked around. They would be safe tonight. He had gotten them this far. He slept.

***