The Omega Project

by Ernest Dempsey

  “Hey, take it easy down there,” Sean said. “I’m a married man.”

  The two guards also sifted through the jackets, and each pulled out a section of the golden ring. They presented the two metallic fragments to their boss, depositing them into Boyd’s palm before resuming their previous positions.

  “Married?” Boyd’s voice boomed. “Sean, I had no idea you were married. Congratulations. I can’t believe I didn’t get you anything.”

  The gun fired again. This time, the barrel was pointed at Tommy. It fired a second time, planting another round into Tommy’s chest.

  Sean watched in horror as his friend fell backward and rolled onto his side. Within a couple of seconds, Tommy lay motionless on the floor. Sean turned back to Boyd and snarled.

  “I will rip your heart from your chest! He has a wife, too.”

  Sean lunged forward, but Boyd stopped that right away, squeezing the trigger two more times, grouping the bullets tightly in the center of Sean’s chest.

  Sean’s eyes widened at the sudden pain. He looked down at the holes in his hoodie and then back up into the eyes of the man who’d just killed him and his best friend. He wobbled, teetering on the edge of blacking out and tumbling into the depths of the void. He looked over at Tommy’s still body on the floor, then to Agent Petty. He, too, was still motionless, dead at the hands of this punk.

  The room swirled in Sean’s eyes. He looked back to Boyd, who was wearing the same smug grin. I've won, Sean thought. And I've failed.

  Sean tripped over his shoes and stumbled backward, passing the quartz tower as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. His eyelids grew heavy. The deep pain in his chest began to fade. Then, Sean closed his eyes and surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

  Boyd chuckled. “What a moron,” he said. Then he motioned to his men. “Pull their bodies over there to the corner. I don’t want to trip over them while I give this little baby a test run.”

  The men immediately snapped to it, each grabbing one of the bodies by the ankles and dragging them out of the way.

  Boyd held the ring fragments in his palm. He stared down at them for the first time, a boyish wonder in his eyes. He ran one thumb across the smooth golden surface of one piece of the ring, taking a second to admire its odd beauty.

  Then he turned and faced the quartz plinth. He gazed at the beautifully carved cube rising from the metal grates around it. There was the hint of a draft coming up from below, a tantalizing glimpse that there was more to discover down in the depths of this hillside. Did the shaft go below sea level? It must, he thought, since they’d already descended three stories. What else was down there?

  His four men joined him by the pillar, the second-in-command standing closest. He was a fairly young guy, mid-thirties with short dark hair cropped to the side in a sort of wind-swept spike.

  “What’s next, sir? We taking these back to the admiral?”

  His name was Marcus Scott. He was one of the men who’d been with Boyd the longest. They’d worked several theaters together and even more missions. He was a stone-cold killer; a true soldier.

  Boyd had heard someone say once that a good soldier is one who sees the enemy as not human. That made the killing easier. Scott was a very good soldier.

  “Yes, we are going to take these back to the Admiral. I got what I wanted. We all got paid. There’s just one more thing I want to do.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  Boyd rubbed his thumb on the golden fragments in his palm. He stared at them in a trance, as if the shiny objects were speaking to him, calling to him.

  “I want to see what this thing does.”

  “Sir, the Admiral—”

  “Isn’t here, Marcus. What’s the difference? We’ll give him the coordinates, and these…whatever these golden pieces are after we take it for a test drive.”

  He looked down at the curved bed cut into the top of the quartz pillar. One of the pieces was already in place. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how the other two fit.

  Boyd placed one of the fragments into the depression. It connected with the first piece and the metal prong sticking out of the quartz. A new sound, higher pitched like a jet plane on the other side of the runway, joined the low hum that had been in the background since their arrival. Boyd turned his head in all directions, looking around the room. He was a little surprised by the new sound but not deterred. He held out the final piece of gold over the hoop and paused for a moment, as if reconsidering.

  “Don’t do it!” a familiar voice shouted over the drone in the room.

  Boyd was tempted to spin around, raise his weapon, and open fire. But he knew better. It took less than a second for him to realize what had happened.

  He twisted his head around to the right and saw Sean Wyatt standing there with a black pistol in his hand. The barrel was aimed straight at Boyd’s right eye. From that range, Sean would never miss. The other two men were also standing by his side, each holding two weapons pointed at Boyd’s four mercenaries. Despite being outnumbered, there was nothing Boyd’s men could do.

  “Drop the guns, and put the gold down, Andrew,” Sean said.

  Boyd snickered at the way Sean used his first name. Sean was trying to get under his skin. Boyd felt the smooth surface of the gold against his fingertips still hovering over the final slot in the quartz.

  Boyd kept chuckling, his head bobbing as he did so. “You know, I should have seen that coming, Sean. Kevlar?”

  Sean didn’t have to pull up his hoodie to show the man. He simply nodded. “Courtesy of our friend the federal agent you shot.”

  “Not smart,” Tommy added.

  “How did you know I wouldn’t shoot you in the head?” Boyd asked.

  “I didn’t,” Sean admitted. “But you never were the most thorough. Before you were court-martialed, I studied everything about you, knew your every move, everything you’d ever done in the military—and out. You were sloppy, which is why it’s important for you to have some cronies around to do what you want, to handle things you can’t. Truth is, you were never a great soldier, Andrew.”

  The words cut deep, but Boyd didn’t care what Sean Wyatt said, even if it was true. “I always got the job done, Sean. You know that. I was willing to do whatever it took. That’s patriotism. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

  “Okay, we’re done here,” Sean said, cutting off the conversation. “Put down the weapon and the gold. Time for you to tell us where John Dawkins is.”

  “Dawkins?” Boyd gave a dramatic nod. “Yeah, he’s already dead, Sean.”

  Sean’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t see Tommy flinch behind him.

  “You’re bluffing,” Sean said.

  “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know, Sean. You’re right. I’ll do what you said and put down my things.”

  He slowly bent forward, lowering his pistol toward the ground. At the same time, he subtly dropped his other hand toward the top of the pillar. When he felt it graze the crystal, he let the gold fall from his hand.

  Boyd had taken care to position the gold directly over the last slot in the column’s surface.

  Sean watched with uncertain fear as the fragment clicked into place.

  The second the gold touched the other two pieces and the third prong, a harsh rumble resonated from the earth, shaking the room, the ceiling, the entire structure. A thumping noise also accompanied the humming. It came from deep within the floor. Its steady pulsing was in perfect time, like a giant metronome with steel pounding steel. It reminded Sean of the sounds of a blacksmith shop where they used the world’s biggest anvil.

  A sudden jolt shifted the floor, and Sean lost his balance. He reached out his free hand to steady himself as he fell. He didn’t lose his grip on the gun, though, and as Boyd lunged back toward the entrance Sean managed to squeeze the trigger once.

  The gun popped loudly, though the sound
was absorbed by all the other noise in the room. The round clipped Boyd’s shoulder as he dove clear and took cover behind the nearest pillar.

  Sean crashed to the floor. His right hand took more of the brunt than he intended, and he felt his thumb crunch under his body weight, smashed between the weapon’s grip and the floor.

  He howled in pain and let go of the weapon as the nerves in his hand screamed out in agony.

  Behind him, Tommy and Agent Petty were keeping an eye on the four guards when things started going awry. The floor lurched again, and the two men stumbled backward against the wall. As they were thrown off balance, the four mercenaries reacted. Two of them went for their weapons, while the other two charged Tommy and Agent Petty.

  Tommy whipped his gun around to try to get off a shot, but he was too slow. The mercenary was on him in a flash. The man’s boot shot forward and struck Tommy in the gut.

  He doubled over, his abdomen pulsing with pain as he dropped to his knees. The mercenary moved fast, seizing the chance to end the fight in less than five seconds. He raised his fist, ready to strike Tommy in the temple, a blow that would render him unconscious at best.

  Tommy managed to gather his wits enough to raise his left hand as the fist came down hard. It smacked against his palm. It hurt, but it wasn’t the knockout blow the villain was looking for. Tommy raised his weapon and aimed it at the man’s groin. He squeezed the trigger, but the guard saw Tommy’s plan and swiped his free hand in front of his waist. He smacked the gun as the muzzle erupted.

  It was a lucky move by the mercenary, but not so lucky for one of his team members. The bullet had sailed behind him and struck one of the other guards in the face.

  The man wavered for a moment, reaching up to touch the wound below his eye with his free hand. Then he collapsed to the floor with a thud.

  The mercenary attacking Tommy didn’t look back. He grabbed the gun by the barrel and twisted it hard to one side. The move twisted Tommy’s wrist into an awkward position and he had no choice but to let go.

  As the mercenary switched the weapon from one hand to the other, Tommy mirrored the man’s move, grasping the barrel and yanking it to one side. A pop came from the man’s wrist, and Tommy used that moment of pain to press the attack. He pushed hard off the floor and launched the top of his head into the man’s nose.

  The appendage crunched. The guard shrieked, and the gun fell to the floor with a clack.

  Tommy rose from the floor, ready to finish the fight by any means necessary.

  Petty fired one shot into the abdomen of another gunmen mere seconds before the guy could get off a shot of his own. The wounded man stumbled backward, his gut burning with a searing pain. He tried to raise his weapon, but Petty squeezed the trigger two more times. One of the rounds missed, but the other struck home just below the man’s neck. He wobbled and then fell onto his face as blood spurted from the wound and trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  The guard closest to Petty launched himself forward, lowering his shoulder and head as he drove into Petty’s ribcage. The tackle drove Petty back into the wall where his head hit the surface with a sickening smack. The room instantly blurred, and Petty felt his knees go weak. Everything swirled as he surrendered to the calling of sleep.

  The mercenary stood up, taking the weapon from Petty’s unmoving hand. He raised the gun and aimed it at the agent’s head. He was about to pull the trigger when a new sound boomed through the chamber.

  The wall beyond the quartz pillar began to crumble. At first, it was just a few loose chunks of stone, but as the shaking continued more pieces broke free and fell.

  Damp, rain-soaked air blew into the room from outside. Dark clouds roiled overhead dumping sheets of rain to the earth.

  The mercenary paused, distracted for a second by the collapse of the wall. He looked out into the sea as it churned. Whitecaps on the dark water foamed at the top of every wave. Out away from the coast, the crests of the waves grew higher, pushing toward the coast with devastating speed.

  47

  Astoria

  The distraction was enough.

  Sean saw the mercenary about to end Petty’s life and for the moment forgot about Boyd. Sean charged toward the man and jumped through the air, extending his right boot.

  The gunman never saw the blow coming.

  Sean’s heel struck the mercenary in the kidneys and plowed him forward into the wall. The man’s head hit the wall and though dazed he was able to turn around and fire a wild shot in Sean’s direction.

  The gun wasn’t well aimed, and the bullet sailed away to splash down in the angry sea. Sean kicked the gun from the man’s hand with a snap. The toe of his boot struck the weapon and launched it through the air. It landed on the rain-slicked floor near the collapsed wall and slid over the edge, down into the ocean below.

  Sean punched the guy in the jaw once, twice, and started to hit him a third time, but the mercenary raised his forearm and absorbed the blow. He countered with a jab into Sean’s gut. Sean tensed, ready for the strike, but it didn’t take away from the pain that shot through his abs as the fist drove deep.

  The mercenary shoved Sean’s fist back and kicked hard with his right foot, sending Sean sprawling a dozen feet away.

  The mercenary stood, regaining his balance, and was about to attack when he heard another voice.

  “Don’t move!” Tommy shouted.

  The guy looked over to see Tommy standing there with a pistol extended. The weapon was aimed at the side of the mercenary’s head. The guy was beaten, and he knew it. He slowly raised his hands and put them on top of his head.

  Sean turned to his friend. “You got him?”

  Tommy nodded. “Yeah. Go get Boyd.”

  Sean didn’t have to be told twice. He took off at a sprint, running toward the door.

  He burst through the doorway and instantly took inventory of the alcove leading into the chamber. It was empty. He looked up and saw the shadow of a man ascending the stairs.

  He wanted to yell at Boyd, to let him know he was coming for him, but Sean wanted the element of surprise. The chase was on, and there was no way Sean was going to let Andrew Boyd get away.

  Sean pumped his legs, careful not to slip on the damp steps as he climbed. His hand slid along the railing, more of a guide than anything else. He kept his eyes upward, watching as Boyd’s hand did the same, running along the surface of the railing as he made his escape. Sean could feel his thighs burning with every step, but he didn’t slow as he reached the second floor, then halfway up the third.

  As he neared the top, he could see a faint light seeping in through the hole they’d created when ripping up the floor earlier. A howling sound blew through it, as if a banshee had been awakened from a long slumber to haunt this very ground.

  Sean reached the surface and slowed his pace, though only for a moment. He popped his head out of the cavity and looked around. There was no sign of Boyd. Sean climbed out of the stairwell and jumped out the nearest door—the one in the back. He looked both ways and then ran around the bunker to the front. There, nearing the trees in the clearing, was Andrew Boyd. He was running as fast as he could, kicking his legs up like an Olympic sprinter, minus several miles per hour.

  The sky overhead had turned a shade of black unlike any Sean had ever seen. It wasn’t just dark. It was a shade of onyx. The clouds turned over and kneaded within themselves like thick black dough. Lightning flashed, streaking through the darkened heavens. The wind whipped through Sean’s hair and pelted him with raindrops the size of dimes. Each droplet pounded him hard, reminding him of getting caught in a storm on his motorcycle. The trees bent sideways, their branches flapping like wings. Any leaves that had stuck around for the winter were torn away, and the evergreens that lined the forest clearing did all they could to hold onto their green tips.

  Sean took off again to give chase. He could see which direction Boyd was going and realized that his quarry was attempting to head back to the parking area. But Boy
d’s path was slightly off course. Sean saw instantly that he could cut Boyd off if he circled around. It would be close, but Sean knew he was faster.

  He darted across the meadow, back toward the hill leading down to the parking area. He kept an eye on Boyd as he made his way closer to the edge of the clearing. Boyd looked back and saw no one, luckily for Sean. Had he run straight at the man, Boyd would have seen him.

  Sean watched as Boyd reached a short slope leading back into the trees. The man slipped in the mud, falling facedown into the hillside. He scrambled to get up, kicking his feet and clawing at the earth like a wild animal trying to rut.

  As Sean reached the edge of the clearing, a crack of thunder exploded overhead and he winced at the deafening sound. This was no ordinary storm. Had it been generated by the Omega device? How was that possible? He recalled what he’d heard Tommy say about Atlantis and that this was the machine responsible for its destruction. He wanted to think about it, to ponder what it all meant, but he was on the hunt and couldn’t afford distractions. He pushed the thoughts to the side and kept running.

  He leaped into the cover of the tree line and pushed on, now bending his run to cut off Boyd. Any second now, the other man would realize his mistake and correct it, making a right turn to get back down the hill and, Sean assumed, make his escape.

  Sean kept up the pace, though he moved stealthily, running on the balls of his feet to ensure as little ground contact as possible. Less chance of stepping on a twig, kicking some leaves, and alerting his prey. That was more out of habit than necessity at this point. The storm’s frenzy blocked out most other sounds.

  There. Sean caught a glimpse of Boyd skirting the edge of the forest toward the top of the hill. Sean quickened his pace, making a beeline for where he anticipated Boyd would be at just the right moment.