CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Apollo
They arrived as the sun was setting. Rocko, Griffin, and Hendrix had been keeping an eye on the abandoned warehouse that reportedly housed Levy Construction.
No one had arrived at the location in the past several hours, and the machinery and trucks remained locked behind the fences.
Everything online indicated that the company was still in operation, and their business hours posted stated they were open.
Apollo and Blade parked behind Griffin’s truck; the remainder of the team was either conducting more research or watching over the small family they’d sworn to protect.
The two jumped into Griffin’s truck, Apollo eager to be reunited with Rocko, who looked relieved.
His single touch settled a part of Apollo that had been on edge since their separation.
“Anything new?” Apollo asked as he drew Rocko closer.
“Nothing, boss,” Hendrix said. “It’s deserted, man. Strange things are going on around here.”
“Maybe they’ve gone out of business and haven’t announced it to the public yet,” Blade suggested. “You know, to keep their creditors off the scent as long as possible.”
“That’s one option. What about security?” Apollo asked.
“Appears pretty lax,” Griffin said. “The standard CTV cameras we reported earlier are located on the front two corners of the warehouse, and the same on the back. Nothing overly complicated and easily bypassed.”
“Doesn’t sound as though they were worried about anyone trying to break in,” Rocko agreed. “Still, I’m anxious to get my hands on Tom’s former work truck and find any other information they might have about him in their files. I might be able to get a read on what happened and where he was taken.”
“Let’s make that happen,” Apollo said.
“On it,” Blade said. “Be back in five minutes or less.”
Rocko watched as Blade exited the truck and disappeared into the tree line in the direction of the warehouse. “Where is he going?”
“To take out the cameras,” Apollo answered.
“Oh, okay,” Rocko said.
“Oh, okay? That’s it?” Griffin chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be the strait-laced police detective? Enforcing the law and all? A little B and E ain’t raising alarm bells?”
“Since when have I ever given you that impression? Wait, don’t get me wrong, I do believe in the law, more specifically, that it should be applied to all, regardless of race, or prosperity.
Some get a free pass either by knowing the right people or greasing the right palms, so if it takes bypassing or intervening in certain measures to ensure the law applies to all, I’m all for it. Within reason of course.”
“Me, I don’t give a shit what we have to do to make people pay, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Detective,” Griffin stated with a grin.
Rocko smiled back at Griffin, and Apollo was relieved to see the two had come to a balance of sorts. Still sending jabs, but with less intensity and a chance for blood; it was a good sign.
“Okay, I want to get in and out as quickly as possible. Main areas of interest are finding Tom’s vehicle and any files they have on Tom in the office,” Apollo instructed. “Once we have those, we’re done, and we’ll meet up back here.”
Hendrix handed out the bone mics they’d use to communicate with each other. The back passenger door opened, and Blade jumped in. The overhead light had been turned off so it wouldn’t be triggered by the door.
“Done. Did anyone time me?” he asked.
“No,” Rocko answered.
“Shit, come on, guys. That had to be the quickest feed redirect I’ve ever done,” Blade huffed in frustration.
“Show-off,” Griffin grumbled.
With the video feed redirected to a previously recorded video of the location gathered by Ace and Jagger through the old feed, the team could go in and have a look around without being seen or recorded.
“Blade, Hendrix, and Griffin, take the offices, while Rocko and I are searching for that truck. Stay alert, and don’t take any chances. First sign of trouble, we bail.”
“Roger,” Griffin confirmed while the others nodded.
The two teams separated after exiting Griffin’s truck.
Apollo led Rocko through the wooded area surrounding the fenced yard behind the warehouse.
They moved swiftly and in silence, and for some reason, it felt as if they’d been doing so for years, to the point of anticipating each other’s moves.
They slowed as they neared the chain-linked fence.
Apollo placed his hand on the metal and concentrated on its base elements, the steel and zinc coating.
Seconds later, the fence began melting away in an outward motion, and Apollo was quick to remove his hand once the hole was big enough for them to fit through.
He motioned for Rocko to go through as he scanned the area.
It seemed quiet, but he never trusted appearances, and he placed his palm on the ground, checking for any odd vibrations that might indicate someone else was near.
However, aside from the occasional fox and barn owl, the area was indeed quiet.
Apollo followed Rocko through the hole before taking cover behind a cube van.
“We need the truck marked with the seventy-nine,” Rocko said.
Apollo nodded before scanning the area. There were roughly a dozen work trucks, three cube vans, a couple of flatbed trailers, and a woodchipper.
Nothing appeared to have been moved in a while, as evidenced by the dirt built up on their windshields, spider webs lacing around the side mirrors, and a few flat tires.
“I don’t think this place is still in business,” Rocko said.
“Agreed, but would the owner simply abandon everything instead of selling off the assets or declaring bankruptcy?”
“Good question. After we’re done here, perhaps we should have a look around Gerald Levy’s residence.”
“Yes, I agree that should be next on the list. Let’s find that truck and get the hell out of here.”
“I hope it’s still here.”
“Me too.”
Apollo went right, and Rocko left. They’d be able to cover more ground that way and get back before anyone discovered them.
The minimal lighting was working in their favor as Apollo kept to the shadows.
One by one, he checked each truck, looking for the right one.
He was halfway through the yard when his bone mic came to life.
“Found it,” Rocko said. “I’m over by the woodchipper.”
“On my way.”
Apollo headed straight for the woodchipper and found Rocko standing beside a truck, directly to its left. Sure enough, it had seventy-nine painted on the side of the truck bed.
“Have you touched it yet?” Apollo asked.
“No. I thought it might be best to wait for you in case I have some sort of reaction like last time,” Rocko said, unconsciously touching the back of his head where he’d felt the pain when touching the photos.
“Good idea. Let me know when you’re ready,” Apollo said as he came to stand even closer in case he needed to step in.
“Let’s get this over with,” Rocko said, raising his hand and touching the door near the bottom to leave no visible prints.
Apollo watched him carefully as his eyes closed and his body tensed. He could sense Rocko’s heart rate increasing and went on alert. It was grueling not being able to do anything to help; whatever Rocko was experiencing, he was on his own, helpless to stop whatever visions were attacking him.
Seconds later, Rocko’s body went rigid; his eyes flew open, but his expression was blank.
“Rocko?”
Nothing. His eyes stared straight forward, but Apollo doubted Rocko was seeing the yard or trucks in front of him.
Apollo thought about pulling his lover’s hand away from the truck, but then he felt Rocko’s heart rate returning to normal.
Apollo had to admit, he’d never stopped to consider what Rocko went through when using his ability.
Watching history repeat itself, good, bad, and undoubtedly gruesome, and feeling the pain of those events as if they were happening to him. That fucking sucked.
Griffin’s voice came across the comms. “The offices look deserted. There’s not a piece of paperwork left behind; it’s been cleaned out.”
“Okay. Rocko’s reading the vehicle. As soon as he’s done, we leave.”
“Got it. Meet you back at the truck.”
“Roger.”
Apollo monitored the other three members of their team as they left the offices and headed back toward the truck. Rocko blinked as his hand dropped away from the truck, and he looked up at Apollo gravely.
Apollo stepped closer and reached out to steady the other man, whose face was pale. His body shook.
“Are you okay?” Apollo asked. “I’ve got you.”
“No. This is bigger than we thought.”
“How bad?”
“All-out-war-on-mutants bad.”
“Shit.”
***
Rocko
Images flashed through his mind, snippets of conversations, and directions of sorts.
Rocko felt physically and emotionally drained by what he’d seen and heard and was working to piece everything together.
They’d conducted a drive-by of Gerald Levy’s home and found it dark and in much the same state as the business location, but they didn’t go in to investigate further.
“When you say war, do you mean war, war?” Hendrix asked.
“Against survivors of the Noah Project, yes.”
“Why? I thought they wanted to capture and use survivors’ abilities,” Griffin asked.
“Not this faction, they’re not the same as the ones we’ve already run into. These people view Noah Project survivors as abominations, threats to the natural order, that need to be exterminated.”
“Fuck, I’ve heard people use that word before,” Blade growled. “All we want to do is live in peace.”
“Persecuted people typically have that one fact in common,” Apollo stated.
“We never asked for this,” Blade added.
“They don’t care,” Rocko confirmed as Apollo pulled him closer. He’d felt cold since reading the truck and was having a hard time warming up.
They were in two separate vehicles headed back to the compound and communicating through Griffin’s cellphone, which was on speaker.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You still look pale,” Apollo said.