The Nightmare Unleashed

by J. J. Carlson

  “That’s exactly my point. He was silent because he was trying to trick us. Then he showed up near our Command Post in London and practically shot up a signal flare to get our attention. When we moved our people out, he ambushed them in Kremnica, and we have no idea how he even learned the locations of those bases.”

  Borya smiled. “I have always loved you for your mind, and you continue to impress me with your wisdom. Your instincts serve you well.” Assuming a professor’s tone, he said, “I have analyzed Jarrod’s movements and found the source of his information. During the attack on our base in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Jarrod took a man named Franco hostage. Franco had served as a soldier of Katharos for years, though he never rose to a position of prominence. He assumed command of the base in Lukas’s absence, and was dragged into the jungle that very night. We never heard from Franco again.”

  Emily nodded as she put the pieces together. “Where had Franco been stationed prior to Africa?”

  Beaming with pride at her insight, Borya said, “In London, Dublin, and Kremnica.”

  Emily’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s how he knew. And he baited us into evacuating the other bases to raise the death toll in Kremnica.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And there was no way he could have learned about the Palace during the most recent attack?”

  Borya shook his head. “I activated the termination implants in every man and woman who was present during the attack. And anyone who knew of our location had been equipped with an implant. For Jarrod, the trail has gone cold, and I am watching every possible source of surveillance. If he steps out of the shadows, I will know.”

  Emily stepped around the edge of Borya’s throne and squeezed in beside him. She leaned in, held his chin, and kissed him passionately. After several seconds, she pulled away and said, “You are my deepest source of comfort.”

  “And you are mine,” Borya said, holding her hand.

  She rubbed his knuckles with her thumb for a moment, then stood. “I need to visit research and development. The newest bio-automatons are coming along nicely.”

  Borya nodded. “They will be operational in two weeks. Then we will use them to hunt down the pest that has bothered you for so long, and you will have no reason to fear.”

  Emily smiled and planted a parting kiss on Borya’s cheek. As she left his side, she saw Eugene blowing his cheeks up like he was about to vomit. Her skin flushed, but not with anger. She could finally see Eugene for what he would become—the perfect companion, with the body she desired and the mind she adored.

  22

  Hillcrest Trauma and Rehabilitation Center

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Janson packed another crate of explosives into the ISU-90. The metal shipping container looked like an oversized wardrobe. It had four wide doors—two on each side—and a total of four compartments. She frowned, surprised by all the extra space that still remained. After closing the door and rotating the curved latch into place, she left the container and strode across the loading bay toward Daron. “Do we really need three ISUs for this mission?”

  Guilt glinted in Daron’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “It’s the only way to smuggle the team out of the country. You will each hide in a compartment until you arrive in Ukraine.”

  “And you decided to leave this out of the briefing because…”

  “Because it’s simple logistics,” Daron grunted. “You’re all willing to risk your lives to bring down the Palace, so I don’t want to hear any bitching about how you got there.”

  Eli joined Janson and waited to be acknowledged before holding up a sheet of paper. “Everything’s accounted for. We just need to head downstairs, gather the team, and load them up. Literally, I guess.”

  Janson nodded and led Eli deeper into Hillcrest. She zig-zagged through brightly painted hallways until she reached an innocuous door with a keypad next to it. She entered a nine-digit code, pulled the door open, and went inside. On the opposite end of the small room, she and Eli took turns standing in front of a facial-recognition sensor, then waited for a pair of bullet-proof glass doors to open. There was a chime, and they stepped through the doors.

  Once they were inside the elevator, a female voice said, “Heart rhythm and facial analysis complete. Welcome, agents Janson and Graham. Proceeding to Sub-Level Six.”

  Eli frowned. “Why are we headed to engineering?”

  “Someone must have put a request into the system,” Janson said. She glanced at her watch and added, “It’s alright. We have time.”

  The elevator hummed as it slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. The pair of operatives stepped into the hallway, then leaned against the wall to wait. Whoever had entered the summons into the system would have been notified of their arrival.

  Less than a minute later, San poked his head around the corner and waved for them to follow.

  “What’s this about?” Janson called after him.

  “I have a going-away present for you,” San said as he scurried onward. He paused in front of a steel door and said, “Grant special access to Agent Janson.” Glancing back, he said, “I’m sorry, Eli, but you’ll have to wait outside.”

  Eli nodded, then glanced at Janson. “If I’m not needed, I’ll head up to Sub-Level Four and gather the team.”

  “Do it,” Janson said. “I’ll meet you in the loading bay as soon as I can.”

  As Eli jogged toward the elevator, Janson followed San into a room the size of a broom closet. The steel door closed behind her, and the wall at the back of the room slid open with a hiss. San led her into a large, well-lit laboratory. Technicians in grease-stained coveralls hovered over robotic welders and machines that looked like 3D printers.

  “What is this place?” Janson asked.

  “Geoffrey Pierce’s legacy. It was the birthplace of the most advanced weapons and technology in Hillcrest. The cybernetic enhancements for Project Lateralis and Jarrod Hawkins’s metamaterial armor were built here.”

  Janson reminded herself that San would know better than to waste her time. She strode past a glass box that was filled to the top with a liquid as black as pitch, then said, “What does this have to do with me?”

  San paused in front of a stainless-steel cabinet, then pressed his thumb into a fingerprint scanner to open it. The wide door swung upward on hydraulic arms, revealing a pair of black suits underneath. They had the snug, matte appearance of wetsuits, and their dark surfaces were dappled with tiny hexagons.

  “These…” San said proudly, “are made of the same material that protects Jarrod Hawkins.”

  Janson hesitated for a moment, then lifted one of the suits out of its display. “Are you serious?”

  San nodded. “They were originally designed for you and Ford, but the project was scrapped once Jarrod arrived at Hillcrest. I had a few of the engineers pull up the old files and construct working prototypes. They won’t react to your thoughts the way Jarrod’s armor does, but they are decades ahead of the armor you’re wearing.” He nodded at her ceramic and Kevlar-lined coveralls. “They’re nearly impenetrable, weigh less than five pounds, and breathe better than spandex. Unfortunately, we were only able to construct two of them in the time we had.”

  “San,” Janson said, her eyes wide. “Thank you so much!” She unzipped her coveralls and pulled them off her bare shoulders.

  San blushed and turned away. “It’s the least I could do. I just wish I had a suit for everyone.”

  A few moments later, Janson hugged him from behind, her hands and arms covered in the metamaterial.

  San turned, blushed again, and stared up at the ceiling. Though the armor was formidable, it was as also as insubstantial as body paint. “I’m, uh, glad it fits. Feel free to wear your usual equipment on top of it.”

  “This means a lot,” she said, pulling the black cowl over her head and down to her chin. The suit covered every inch of her body and even had clear lenses that fit pre
cisely over her eyes.

  “The safety glasses are built in,” San said. “They won’t fog under any circumstances, and they won’t allow sand or dust in around the edges.”

  “Perfect.” Janson hugged him again, grabbed the other suit, and jogged toward the exit. Roughly one-half of the technicians watched her every move with unblinking eyes.

  “Goodbye, San,” she said as she entered the adjacent room. “And thank you for everything.”

  San forced a smile and gave a tight nod. When she disappeared from view, he interlaced his fingers and whispered, “Vaya con Dios.”

  Ford was tying the laces on his boots when Janson reached the team room.

  “You might want to hold off on that for a minute,” she said.

  Ford grit his teeth and continued tying. “You’re not going to talk me out of this. Wounded or not, I’m still an asset to the team.”

  Janson dropped his metamaterial suit, which fell into a heap on his right foot. He glanced at it, frowned, and said, “What is that?”

  “The same liquid-metal armor that protects our nightmarish friend. And it’s custom-made just for you.”

  Ford lifted the suit by its shoulders and held it up. “It’s light. How the hell is it so light?”

  Janson shook her head. “No idea. You’ll have to ask one of the nerds downstairs when we get back.”

  “Are you sure it works?”

  “San gave them to me personally. And he would never send us into a fight with faulty products.”

  Without further hesitation, Ford untied his boots and kicked them off. He faced away from Janson, stripped naked, then slipped the suit on. He adjusted the crotch, turned around, and tugged at a wedgie. “They’re a little…snug.”

  Janson smiled “At least you’ve got the body for it.” She jerked her head toward the door. “C’mon, we can finish kitting up in the loading bay.”

  They left the team room, carrying armloads of equipment with them. They reached the loading bay a few minutes later and met with the rest of the team.

  “Jeeze,” Trent said. “You guys are gutsy, going into combat in your pajamas.”

  “They’re suits of next-gen armor,” Janson explained. She took a deep breath, then added. “They don’t have enough for everyone, but we’ll make sure we draw fire whenever we can.”

  “Can they turn invisible?” Trent asked.

  Janson shook her head. “They’re just for protection. Does everyone have what they need?”

  “Everything’s accounted for and all equipment has been function-checked,” Eli said.

  Janson nodded. She glanced at the nearest storage container and said, “Pick a compartment and get loaded up.”

  As the team dispersed, Eli held up a paperback novel. “Everybody pack a book and a flashlight? It’s going to be a long, lonely ride.”

  The operatives nodded or gave the “thumbs-up” and took their places in the ISUs.

  Janson double-checked to make sure everyone had food, water, and waste buckets, then closed the heavy doors. She climbed into the top compartment of the last ISU and curled her legs inside.

  Daron gripped the door with one hand and looked up at her with deep concern. “Bring them back alive, Janson. As many as you can.”

  She met his gaze, held it, then nodded. She kept her face implacable until the door swung shut, wrapping her in darkness. A forklift rumbled somewhere in the loading bay, and the diesel engine of a transport truck thundered to life.

  She took a deep breath and smelled the sweat on her well-worn tactical vest. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and tried to push Daron’s words from her mind, but they echoed in her ears.

  As many as you can.

  23

  12 Miles South of Bryansk, Russia

  Jarrod stumbled into the stony brook, then collapsed and let the water rush over him. Steam rose from his shoulders and floated up between the gaps in the trees. His clear body reverted to inky black, and he soaked in the sun’s rays as he gulped the life-giving water. He drank until his stomach stretched to its limit, then rolled onto his back and let the stream swirl over his chest.

  This was the longest he’d been stationary in more than thirty-six hours. After ending Ashton’s life outside of Kremnica, Jarrod had traversed east through Slovakia on foot. After crossing the border into Ukraine, he had clung to the bottom of a freight train and rode it through the rolling Carpathian Mountains. He abandoned the train before it reached Kiev, then paused briefly to rehydrate and eat from a restaurant dumpster. He resumed his trek, running through the forests of northern Ukraine and sneaking across the border into Russia. Here, in the wilderness south of Bryansk, his body gave out. He had traveled 1500 kilometers, or just over 932 miles, and roughly one third of the distance had been on foot. His body was dehydrated, depleted of fuel sources, and traumatized by the extended exertion.

  But he had made it to Russia.

  Now that he was inside the largest country on earth, he could travel within its borders with far less scrutiny. He could stow away on an aircraft and still avoid the probing eyes of Katharos. But first, he needed to rest.

  The sunlight passed through pores in his armor and triggered chemical reactions within synthetic organelles in his skin. In a process similar to photosynthesis, the organelles used sunlight, carbon dioxide, and water to manufacture glucose. Then, the microscopic machines transported the sugar throughout his body, repairing tissue and reenergizing his cells. Within a few minutes, his cramped and constricted muscles began to relax. He took a deep breath and exhaled a cloud of steam, then slurped two more liters of water. Stretching out once more, he noticed a beetle creeping between the rocks on the stream’s bank. With two quick movements, he snatched the insect up and stuffed it into his mouth. Sitting up, he continued plucking up any living thing within arm’s reach.

  Using the macro-nutrients provided by the wild food, the machines in his body continued their repairs. An hour later, he jumped to his feet and rotated the microscopic orbs in his armor to render himself invisible. Resting any longer would be useless; his body didn’t require sleep, and he had almost completely recovered from the long journey. All that remained was a short, twenty-kilometer sprint to the Bryansk airport, which was situated along the rural outskirts of the city.

  He gradually picked up speed until the forest began to pass in blurred shades of green. He made no effort to dodge tree branches, which bent and snapped as he charged onward. Thirty minutes later, he burst onto open ground and crossed a grassy glade before diving into the Desna River. He reclined in the shallow water, drinking and letting it cool him. After two minutes, he held his transparent arm in the air, checking for the fog associated with excess heat. There was none—he was completely invisible.

  Getting to his feet, he sloshed through the water and reached the opposite bank. He crossed another rain-soaked marsh, then trotted across a wheat field. Keeping a moderate pace to avoid creating the tell-tale fog, he crossed six kilometers of open ground and settled into a weedy meadow at the edge of the airport. Staying low, he observed flight patterns until he was confident he had found an eastbound aircraft. When the Sukhoi 100 Superjet taxied into position, Jarrod jumped the fence and sprinted across the taxiway. He caught up with the Superjet just as the pilot throttled up the engines for takeoff.

  Reaching up with one arm, Jarrod dug a clawed hand into the underbelly of the aircraft. Holding tight, he pulled himself up and plunged his other hand into the fuselage, then let the windstream lift his body. The pilot would notice the excess drag, but it wouldn’t be enough to land the aircraft and delay the flight to investigate the issue.

  Within seconds, the passenger jet lifted off the ground and began to climb. The landing gears shrilled as they folded into their compartments, and the Superjet lifted its nose to steepen the climb.

  The plane reached a cruising altitude of 28,000 feet, then leveled off. The wind screamed past Jarrod, and he shivered to keep his body warm. It wasn’t the best way to fly, but he was ea
ger to begin his surveillance at the Krasnoyarsk airport. Emily Roberts had manipulated him and turned his wife’s corpse into a deadly weapon. She had killed countless innocents trying to get to him and would continue to do so until Jarrod put an end to her reign.

  Jarrod pulled his chest tight against the Superjet and comforted himself with the vision of Emily Roberts and her followers dying in pools of their own blood.

  They will pay, he told himself. All of Katharos will pay.

  24

  Luhansk, Ukraine

  Yuri Sokolov squinted as the ISU door swung open. A burly woman with a shaved head stood silhouetted in the blinding light. “Welcome to Ukraine,” she said.

  Yuri’s joints popped as he extracted himself from the compartment and stood. “We’re in…Luhansk?”

  Janson nodded. “And the next phase of the mission is entirely up to you. There’s a CIA agent waiting on the tarmac; keep your head down until you get to your father’s house, then act like you’re here for a surprise visit. Take your father somewhere private, and make sure there are no electronic devices in the room before you tell him what we’re really doing here.”

  She led Yuri to the C-5’s massive cargo doors, then pointed at a diesel pickup truck. “That’s your ride. Take as much time as you need, but remember that the rest of the team will be locked in the ISUs until they’re loaded onto your father’s plane.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Janson clapped him on the back and said, “I know you will. Good luck, Yuri.”

  Janson disappeared behind the back of her ISU, and Yuri trotted down the ramp. As he approached the pickup truck, a man with blond hair and aviator sunglasses stepped out. He held the back door open with one hand and nodded for Yuri to get in.

  “Thank you,” Yuri said.

  The man didn’t respond. He shut the door behind Yuri, climbed into the driver’s seat, and put the truck in gear.

  Yuri slouched in his seat but couldn’t keep from peeking out the window at the airport he was so familiar with.