Double Helix

Norm

I took a walk around the house and the barn that morning, surveying the tools that we would be using that night to make our carefully-laid plans a reality. We had a whole fleet of vehicles now. Besides the cargo truck and Tilly's truck in the barn, three motorcycles also nestled inside, plus the Suburban and six used vehicles. Those would most likely all be dead within six months, if we had intended to use them regularly. Instead, we would kill them tonight.

We had done our best to remove serial numbers and any other identifying markings that might be used to trace them back to the dealer, who might remember my face if federal investigators came calling. Andy had supplied us with Washington license plates for each of our vehicles except for the used cars, which had fake temporary tags.

We gathered in the living room for what would be the last time that morning. The atmosphere was tense and conversations didn't go past a few quiet words as everyone waited for Nonna to appear. I stood off to one side, paging carefully through my notes. The room went instantly quiet when Nonna appeared from the hallway, wearing a set of the bulky body armor that we had gotten through Andy at a cost that made my head hurt to think about. She had to be wearing it for the effect, because she would have to doff it for the trip north.

"Good morning, everyone," she said. "I want to thank you all for your weeks of patience and persistence. Today we will put your training into action in service to a dear friend and family member. I recognize that many of you are putting yourselves in considerable danger on her behalf, and words cannot express how grateful I am for that sacrifice and the trust you have placed in me. It is humbling to lead such a courageous and dedicated group into battle, and I have great faith in all of you. With your determination, we will succeed. Thank you."

She stepped aside and I took the floor. "Thank you, Nonna. Our goal is to break Sasha free with minimal risk and no loss of life. Having said that, every one of you must be prepared to use lethal force if necessary to protect your own life and the lives of your teammates. If any of you are having last-minute thoughts about your ability to pull the trigger if and when it is necessary, this is your last chance to come clean. Step over there," I said, pointing to the dining room, "and we'll replace you with one of Mike's people."

I bowed my head, waiting, letting the silence sink in. After a count of thirty, I looked up. No one had moved. I nodded. "Alright. We will muster in..." I glanced at the clock, "ten minutes. We have a four-hour drive ahead of us to the rendezvous point. As a reminder to our drivers, please keep your radios on and monitoring the main channel at all times. Andy's daughter, Casey, will report in every five minutes. If she encounters a checkpoint, or fails to make her scheduled report, you are to exit the highway immediately and await further instructions. As you approach the rendezvous point, announce yourself over the comm and wait for confirmation before proceeding."

I looked around. "Any questions?" Nock raised his hand and I pointed to him.

"How do I get out of this chicken shit outfit?"

There were a few chuckles and I couldn't quite keep the smile off my face. Most of us had watched "Aliens" at the main house a few weeks back. "Shut up, Hudson. Anyone have any

real

questions?" I waited several seconds. "Alright. Everyone check your gear over one last time and assemble at your vehicles."

Wendy picked her cat up from her lap and set her to the side. "And you, you little shit-head, you're staying here."

It was a clear day and a bitterly cold one, at least for the Pacific Northwest. I boarded the big truck, loaded down with our motorcycles and the bulk of our gear, and idled the engine. Dawn climbed up into the passenger seat and buckled in. "You ready for this?" she asked.

"We've been watching Sasha get railroaded through the system for last year and a half," I said. I nodded, "I'm ready to fight back."

Casey's voice came over the comm, crystal clear in my earpiece. "Hey, crew. It's a beautiful brisk black Friday here in central Oregon. Traffic is light and the sun is shining. I'm coming up on interstate 5, so it's time to gun those engines and get your asses in gear. Let's get this crazy train rolling!"

As she finished, Ozzy Osbourne's voice came over the comm, "All aboard! Hahahaha," followed by the opening guitar riff from "Crazy Train".

"Didn't know we were going to have a DJ for this trip," Dawn said with a smirk.

I smiled back. "Neither did I. She and Wendy must have coordinated on a song list."

Wendy was riding in the cab of Tilly's truck with Nissi and Stanley, and had command of the little console that controlled our radio gear. I wasn't complaining though. Black Sabbath wasn't a bad way to kick off our trip.

"She'd better play 'Convoy'," Dawn said. "It wouldn't be right to miss that one."

Sure enough, halfway to Portland, the trucker-themed country song came on over the comm. I was fourth in line in our little convoy, behind Nonna, Tilly and Alice. The used cars trailed behind me, driving on autopilot.

"Whoa," Casey said, interrupting Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride". "Guys, we've got a huge slow down on I-5 approaching the Columbia River. It's gotta be a checkpoint. Either that or the bridge is out. Recommend you put Alice out front and run over to the 205. I'll try to catch up to you after I cross the border, but looks like I might be here awhile."

"Copy that," Alice said. "Everybody off at the next exit. I'm taking point."

Casey continued to DJ for us, but seemed a bit more subdued. Encountering the checkpoint had driven home the fact that one mistake could end our little expedition. We rejoined I-5 a few miles into Washington and rode the rest of the way without incident. Coming out of Tacoma and circling east around Puget Sound, we got off the interstate and headed up into the hills to the east of the city, following an old gravel logging road that made the cargo truck bounce and shake.

We slowed so that each vehicle could approach the rendezvous point, calling out its presence and being acknowledged by Mike over the comm. I followed suit and proceeded up a steep slope and around a bend, coming to a stop at a large, flat area on the west side of mountain we had been climbing. All of the manned vehicles parked in a line off the road, the auto-piloted cars having broken off several miles back and navigated to a parking lot near downtown.

I got out and took in the view of the city well in the distance past Lake Washington, the blue expanse of the sound just beyond that. The elevation here should help with keeping our comms working while putting Wendy and Dawn well out of danger. It was also one of several possible rally points that we had staked out, the only one we would need, if everything went as smoothly as we had hoped.

"Gang's all here," Mike said as I approached. "Except your primary scout. Casey, was it? She alright?"

"She'll be along in about half an hour," I said. "She ran into a checkpoint in Portland."

"I'm not surprised. A trip that long, you're almost certain to see at least one." He introduced me to the fifteen people he had brought, all of them veterans of one petty war or another from the last thirty years, and a few I had met previously. They ranged in age from a fresh-faced man named Justin, who looked not a day over twenty, to the bearded and bespeckled Harold, who must be pushing sixty.

Three of them would be stationed as lookouts along the transports route to report its progress. The rest would be divided among various groups. Harold would be one of six that would merge into the perpetual crowd waiting in line to enter the food dispensary at Lower Queen Anne. Two hours before our transport left Sea-Tac Prison, those six would begin to work the crowd, inciting them to riot. We hoped that this would draw off enough police from downtown Seattle to hamper their ability to respond once someone realized that their prisoner transport had gone off the radar.

Three more would remain with Wendy and Dawn, in case they needed protection. We didn't think anyone could decrypt our comms, let alone trace them back here, but it didn't hurt to have some insurance. Two of the remaining three would be on the extraction team, and the remaining one would stay with Alice, Gena, and Ed, waiting in reserve half a mile from the site we had chosen to attack the van.

We affixed a ramp to the back of the big truck and brought out the three motorcycles. Nissi used to ride dirt bikes in the hills around her childhood home in northern Arkansas and felt it necessary to take one of the high-performance bikes for a little spin to "make sure it was running smoothly" before using it for our op. I didn't blame her for wanting to let off a little steam. The rest of us unloaded and catalogued everything to make certain we hadn't missed some vital piece of gear. Once that was done, the leaders, myself, Mike, and Nonna, went over the plan once more in detail.

MIke expressed his displeasure for about the tenth time at our reliance on SamIAm. "I don't like being dependent on someone none of us have ever met, and who sounds like a complete whack-job. What if he doesn't come through?"

"Then things will get a bit more dangerous," Nonna said. "But Nock has the Barrett. I have full confidence that he can make up for the lack of our hacker, if needed. Either way, we will have the advantage."

"Sure, fine, we can still pull of the extraction, but then what if we can't get away before the full fury of the Seattle police, the FBI, and probably the federal marshals comes down on us?"

"Four point five minutes," Nonna said, "and we will be out of there. That's less than half the mean police response time in that area. We've drilled on this hundreds of times. It will work."

"We'll be fine," I put in. "And our guy is a bit eccentric, but he's never let us down before."

We argued over details for a while. Casey pulled up in her Camaro and parked next to the cargo truck. She would stay here and provide a means of ferrying extra arms and equipment from the truck down to the city if we needed it. Also, if things went so horribly wrong that the authorities came up here looking, she could get Wendy and Dawn out of here quickly.

After hashing out the details to our mutual, though sometimes marginal, satisfaction, we took a cold meal and waited for dark. The transport was set to leave Sea-Tac prison at 11:20 PM, to avoid traffic. Other than stops for fuel and meals, the transport would go straight from Seattle to Terre Haute, the marshals onboard replaced in shifts along the way. Besides Sasha, two male inmates were headed to death row in the same vehicle.

We had a lot of time to kill, so I went through our little camp, sizing up the readiness of each person. I spotted Nock and Sharon sitting together at the side of the road, looking down over the city. Her presence here made me no less uncomfortable than it did back on the farm. I had thought it through after my confrontation with Nock, on the day she had arrived. He had been right, of course, that we couldn't send her away. As days had passed, I gradually came to accept that she would not betray us.

That didn't help with the anger I felt every time I saw her. I watched Nock put an arm around her shoulders and turned away before I said or did something I might regret. My eyes fell on Tilly, helping Stan set up equipment, and she turned to meet my gaze. She said a few quick words to him and then hurried over. "You want to talk?"

"Not really," I said. "You're just going to tell me the same thing you always do. 'She's not the same person she was.' That doesn't help."

"Well, then I won't bother," she said. She looked over at where Nock and Sharon sat. "She seems to be fitting in quite nicely, though."

"Yeah," I said drily. "That's wonderful." I looked over and caught her smiling at me. "What?" I asked.

"You'll come around," she said. "You always do."

I took her meaning, about how I had put her off for months after arriving on the farm. I clasped her hand in mine and squeezed it. "That was different."

Tilly stretched up on her toes to kiss me softly. "You love her. That's why what she did hurt you so much."

"It did hurt," I said, glancing back at Nock and Sharon again. Her head was resting on his shoulder. "And it hurt a lot more people than just me."

"I know," Tilly said, with a nod of understanding. "And she is sorry about that too."

I let go of her hand as she stepped away from me, looking south along the road. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine had been growing steadily louder, and Nissi appeared around the bend. She braked and the bike's wheels locked, throwing up rocks as she skidded forward. Tilly ran up to her as she pulled off her helmet, and planted a kiss on the elf-woman's lips.

I sighed, watching them. It had been a strange thing, sharing my lover with another, but I think more so in this case. Even after a year, I still couldn't look at Nissi without feeling an intense pang of regret for what I had lost. I didn't know how to act around her, and so we rarely spoke to each other or interacted at all unless pulled together by a group.

I went to offer Stan a hand with the equipment. He and Tilly had already set up the generator and had been in the process of wiring up Sasha's microcomputer. A folding table and chairs were set up inside the cargo truck, our base of operations for Wendy and Dawn. Once the MC was up and running, the two terminals we had brought networked to it, as did the control unit for the comms. I helped Stan run a wire out through a hole drilled in the side of the truck to an antenna that I mounted to the roof with a bracket.

Our lookouts had left some time ago to take up station along the transport's route, and Wendy contacted each of them in turn. "Signal strength is great," she said. "So unless you get stuck behind a hill or a building with nothing around to reflect the signal off, we should have no problems."

Now we just had to wait. Few things could be as agonizingly stressful as having to wait for something like we were going to attempt. I had brought one of Stansy's maritime novels to read, but I couldn't keep my attention on it. At one point, I looked up and saw a small crowd of our people in a circle, heads bowed and fingers clasped as Harold intoned in a low voice. I recognized Mike and a few other people from that crew, but also Nonna, Tilly, and Stan.

"What was that about?" I asked Tilly after they broke apart and passed near me. "I knew that Stan was religious, but you?"

"I just figure we can use all the help we can get," she said. "It certainly can't hurt."

"You know that Pascal's wager is a terrible argument?" I asked.

She nodded. "That's not what I mean. Shared belief in the divine has great social utility. It fosters unity and confers an advantage for group survival. That by itself makes it at least worthy of careful study and contemplation. You aren't one of those atheists who think that it's some kind of destructive mental virus, are you?"

"No. But you don't actually, truly believe in it, do you?" I asked, eyeing her.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Agnostic, then," I said.

"No," she said with a laugh, and repeated herself more slowly, "I do not know. That doesn't mean it isn't possible to know. We live in a universe that is defined by probabilities, not certainties. And, whether because of divine intervention or social dynamics, sharing in that moment of prayer slightly increases our probability in succeeding in this venture. The effects are real, whether you believe or not."

"So you're a pragmatist," I ventured.

"Shut up, Norm," she said, and leaned in to give me a kiss.

At eight o'clock, we finally loaded up to head down to the city. Mike led the way in his car, acting as scout for us. Nissi and Stanford road their bikes, Nonna drove the Suburban with most of the strike team with her, and I drove Tilly's truck, with Nock riding shotgun and Tilly in the back seat. Alice followed us with our backup, one of Mike's crew riding our final motorcycle.

We re-traced our route back down the mountain and took highway 90 west across Lake Washington, exiting near I-5. We wanted to force the transport off the interstate at James Rd. and get them to turn right. From there, the fastest way for them to get back on track would be to head east to Broadway and either go north to catch the 520 that way, or go south to take I-90 east, then use the 405 to intersect the 520 on the eastern side of Lake Washington.

Plenty could go wrong, of course. The transport might stay on I-5 and try to wait out the traffic, or they could turn a completely different direction than we had anticipated. If that happened, we either had to hope that SamIAm came through for us, or we would need to come up with a new plan to intercept them, and quick.

We stopped near a parking garage to let Nock out of the car. He was wearing a gray hoodie and sunglasses, and carried two large cases. He hurried into the garage as we pulled back onto the street and circled around to park in a spot a few blocks west. "Mobile 1 is in position," I said over the comm, and shut the car off.

Mobile 2, Alice's group, reported in soon after, then control, representing Nonna and her strike team. "Eagle Eye is in position," Nock said over the comm. He was set up on the top level of the parking garage, overlooking James Street. Several minutes later, Nissi and Stanford reported in as well.

Once more, we settled down to wait. Not for the first time, I had to shake off the stomach-churning thought that this might have all been for naught, that they could have moved Sasha days earlier without our knowledge.

"It's going to be fine," Tilly told me, sensing my emotion but not the thought that had caused it.

"You gonna tell me you aren't nervous?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. But we've got a plan and it's a good one."

"Not like the last time we were all here," I said, recalling the night of our escape.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you," she said. "And this seems like a terrible time to bring it up, but we're going into danger and I just can't get it off my mind."

I chuckled, "Well, now you've done it. You can't say something like that and just expect me to let it go. Spit it out."

She looked steadily at me, and the cold light from the street lamps sparkled in her eyes. "I want to have children," she said.

I blew out a long breath and settled back against the headrest of my seat. I chuckled. "Wow. That's kind of a big bomb to drop on me."

"I told you it wasn't a good time," she reminded me. "It wasn't even an option before, but our lab has all the equipment and chemical components we need to synthesize the drug that will induce ovulation for me. This is something I've been thinking about for over a year."

"Kids," I said. "How many do you think you want?"

"I'm not sure yet," she said. "I just know that I want them, and I want them to be yours."

"Wow," I said again. Her words touched something primal in my psyche, a yearning that both subverted and transcended rational thought. "Is this the right time, though? I mean, you've got so much going on right now. And will there be any problem with genetic compatibility?"

"I can still work while pregnant," she said, "And after the birth, we can trade off caring for it. If we need it, I'm sure Wendy would love to babysit. And compatibility won't be a problem. I talked to my mom a while back. She said that there are feedback mechanisms in the cell nucleus that kick in during the egg fertilization process. They will re-encode the genetic matter from your sperm and ensure complete expression of my genetic model. Third gen onward made that pretty standard, as the changes they were making to the genome got more extreme."