Convergence - The Last Science #2.2 - Heroes and Villains

B2: Chapter 25 - Confidential Public Relations - IV

  "I've got a request for you," said Felix.

  "The fuck?"

  Jeremy twisted around in the trunk. They'd been driving for a good thirty minutes at least when the journalist's muffled voice sounded from the back seat. It was hard to tell, since Jeremy didn't have his phone or even a watch. I should get a watch... if shit like this is gonna happen.

  "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

  "...You could've been talkin' this whole damn time? I'm bored as shit back here."

  Felix laughed. "Fair enough."

  "What's the request?"

  "Stop the book from getting published. It's too dangerous."

  "It is, huh?" Jeremy whistled. "A fuckin' Pulitzer-prize writer is callin' for government censorship. There's somethin' you don't see everyday."

  "...What, did you take a profile of me?"

  "'Course I did. You and every other Sunday column asshole on that list." Jeremy paused. "Seriously, though. What's so dangerous about it?"

  "Everyone will know how to awaken. And when that happens..."

  "But there's a catch, isn't there?" Jeremy pointed out. "Can't do anythin' without a scrap of the old book, yeah? It won't spread that fast."

  "They made copies. If they did it once, they can do it again. No one can control that." Felix rustled around on the seat. "I'm against censorship, but I'm a hundred percent in favor of weapon control. This is a weapon. It needs to be regulated."

  "Can't argue with that."

  "So help us here. Slow it down. Don't let that book get out."

  Jeremy laughed. "The fuck am I supposed to do that? It's coming out tomorrow."

  "Laushire bought everyone some time. There's no way they release it tomorrow with the lawsuits she pulled together. They were expecting a poor cult leader holed up in the woods, not the daughter of a billionaire. Easy pickings turned into a pack of hungry wolves. And I'm guessing daddy Laushire will back her play, too, if the rumors are true. They sure as shit don't want that book coming out."

  "Which rumors? I've heard a fuckton lately."

  He could practically hear Felix's grin through the rear seat cushions. "Spoilers, Agent Ashe. Let's just say there's some juicy intrigue in the rich man's house. I'm really looking forward to bringing that up with the patriarch himself when I can."

  "You just love tearin' people down, don't you?" Jeremy muttered.

  "No, of course not. I'm telling their stories, good or bad. What happens after those stories reach the public is out of my hands."

  "Irresponsible as fuck, aren't ya?" Fucking reporters.

  "The public decides. I'm just the messenger. I don't pull stunts like Russ did tonight. That was a pretty cheap shot, emotional manipulation on national TV. Guy thinks he's David fucking Frost. I kept it legit: nice uncommentated raw footage of the standoff." The truck lurched hard, knocking them around a bit. When it settled, Felix spoke up again. "But seriously, Agent Ashe. That book is nuclear. Figure it out."

  "No promises," Jeremy said, "but the other side ain't exactly happy about it either. So at least y'all agree on somethin'."

  "That's good to hear." Another heavy bump. "Your stop's coming up."

  "Thanks for the ride," Jeremy added sarcastically.

  Felix laughed. "Free tip? Don't bother putting an APB on this truck. We won't be taking it out again. Save your effort."

  No effort on my back, but whatever. "Sure."

  "Head south and you'll get out of here in one piece. See you around, Agent Ashe."

  The truck lurched to a halt. Jeremy kicked at the trunk, and to his surprise it actually opened this time. He crawled out, aching all over from the rough ride. The instant he hit the dirt, the truck sped off. They'd stopped with a fairly long stretch of open ground ahead, giving it more than enough time to get away.

  The rain had kicked up at some point while they'd been driving, and a layer of mud was caked on his sleeves and pants. Jeremy groaned out loud, before pulling his windbreaker hood up and beginning to trudge south.

  Five minutes later, he stopped. Which fuckin' direction is south?

  He glanced up at the sky. The tree cover wasn't so dense here, but the rain clouds were still pretty thick. Jeremy wasn't getting wet at least, but he didn't have a clue where he was.

  Felix made it sound like it was gonna be easy.

  Jeremy kept walking in the same direction he'd been let off it, since it seemed as good a way to start as any. It sure as hell wasn't the way they'd actually come. He'd noticed more than once they'd driven in a circle to mislead him.

  Must be near midnight... cold as fuck out here.

  After an hour of walking (or however long it really was), Jeremy felt completely lost, and was actively cursing Felix's name. Still, he knew he was in the Olympic forest somewhere, and they wanted him to get home. They wanted his help.

  Am I just that fuckin' bad in the woods?

  The faint sound of a clink of metal caught his ear.

  Jeremy perked up. Metal's not a forest sound. He scrambled forward toward the sound, slipping on the muddy ground as he went. More than once, he tripped over a root, but it didn't slow him much. He could hear civilization ahead. More importantly, he could smell hops.

  Please, god, anything for a good fuckin' beer right now.

  A thick wall of hedges, trees and thick thorns barred his way. Jeremy looked around, but the barrier stretched out and around. He knew the smell was right on the other side of the wall, along with the faint sound of laughter. He reached out gingerly to pull the first thick, thorny bramble aside.

  His hand went right through it.

  Jeremy stared at it. He moved his hand through the branch again, and then a third time. It didn't react in the slightest. A less tired and miserable Jeremy might have taken a moment to think it through, assess what he was up against—but after the rough day he'd endured, Jeremy just wanted a drink.

  He burst through the illusory wall.

  A dozen people looked up at him, shocked. They were seated around wooden picnic tables. Lanterns hung in midair above each one, giving the place a warm flickering glow. Two huge barrels were set up on the far side of the little clearing, where one man was busy refilling his mug. On every table were stacks of gemstones, pieces of paper, scraps of an old parchment, and other valuables, surrounding cards and dice, or just food and cash.

  Jeremy stood up straight, his mistake finally dawning on his fatigued mind. A man in a thick hunting jacket and boots approached as he swayed in place, and it took him a couple seconds to recognize the lopsided smile, beady eyes, and messy brown hair. His voice had just a bit of a lilt, an easy charm that belied danger and suspicion. Jeremy knew that type. He didn't trust the man for a second.

  "Well now, how'd you get in here?" asked Julian Black.