Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  Replacement gasped.

  “How’s the leg?” Brendan’s fist slammed into Jack’s thigh, eliciting a scream. “I should have stolen a bus to run you down with.”

  Jack groaned.

  “It’s taking effect, I see.” Brendan leaned in to examine Jack’s eyes. “In some ways I’m glad you weren’t killed instantly. Now I get to use you.”

  Replacement growled through the bit in her mouth.

  “And when Alice came to our school, it was perfect; we welcomed her with open arms.” Brendan leaned over his cart with renewed focus.

  “Leave her out of this!” Jack pleaded. Every movement caused pain now, even blinking.

  Missy taunted, “You screwed up, Jack, bringing her along.”

  Replacement looked over the metal cart of horrors and stared at Jack. He tried to read the expression in her battered face, expecting to see fear, hatred, but instead…

  Hope. For some reason, she thinks I can still do something. She thinks I’m going to get her out of this. I can’t! I got Chandler killed. I got her into this. Brendan knew we were coming. I’m no hero…

  Jack’s shame added to the burning in his body, and he groaned.

  Now I’ve gotten her killed, too.

  41

  The Beast

  “Let’s get started.”

  Jack was helpless to resist as Brendan taped his eyes open, strapped his head in place, and slipped a bit into his mouth. Brendan wheeled the gurney to the fMRI scanner and slid the stretcher into the tube. Inside, behind glass, Jack had his own personal video camera and monitor. Brendan used a remote control to angle the screen directly over Jack’s face.

  “You should be feeling quite a bit of discomfort now.” Brendan reached in and squeezed Jack’s upper arm; it felt like a chainsaw ripping into him. “Good. You see, physical pain is quite effective. But for you, I think emotional pain will be even more efficient. Pain that hurts you at the core of your being.” He turned toward Missy in the control room. “Put the imager up to full power.”

  In a few seconds, Missy’s voice crackled, “All set, Dr. Phillips.”

  Brendan strolled past Replacement toward the door and gave them a little wave. “I really hope you have some shrapnel embedded in you.”

  In spite of the pain, Jack struggled against his restraints. The sound of a low buzz vibrated around him, then gradually increased. Jack tried to calm his breathing, but his heart pounded louder than the roar of the machine.

  Brendan’s voice echoed over the speakers. “I had planned a video of the battlefield to show you. I thought maybe reliving some of the horrors you saw in Iraq might help elicit that mental state. But then you gave me the perfect idea.”

  The monitor crackled, and a nightmare began. Michelle was strapped to the stretcher, her eyes taped open and black-and-blue, nose swollen and bloody. Her features, so familiar to him, were disfigured by pain and terror. By torture.

  “You wanted to be a fly on the wall,” the torturer said. “Do you remember when you asked Dr. Hahn to see video footage of Michelle? Well, here’s your chance.”

  Jack attempted to break free from his head restraint, turn his head away, close his eyes, anything—but all he could do was watch.

  “Missy, please turn up the audio,” Brendan murmured.

  Right before Jack’s eyes, Michelle cried and begged, over and over, “Help me. Please!”

  He lay there, powerless now to help himself and knowing that her cries for help would never be answered. “Please stop.” She wept. “Please.” Her mouth twitched and trembled. A memory of her as a little girl, crying after she broke her leg sledding, ripped through Jack as she continued to plead for her life in front of him.

  Bile rose up in Jack’s throat.

  He broke.

  He stopped struggling; he stopped fighting. He hadn’t surrendered; he had been defeated. All his demons rose up inside him and tossed him into the void. He felt himself tumble down into the nothingness. No feeling. No pain. Nothing. He lay there, his eyes forced open, but saw only the abyss. His mind had lowered an invisible curtain.

  How long he stayed shrouded in the empty, shifting mist, he didn’t know. Senseless, he hovered in gray nothingness.

  From far away, he heard a sound. He wanted to continue his free fall into the vacuum and embrace death, but from somewhere outside the ether, a voice called to him.

  “Jack!”

  The mist began to clear, and the monitor emerged.

  Michelle’s voice. She looked directly at the camera, straight at him, and called out his name.

  “Jack…”

  “Jack…” Replacement’s voice echoed in the tube.

  “Please,” Michelle and Replacement called out at the same time—one voice in the here and now, and the other from the video, blended together.

  Then another voice emerged clearly. “The scrawny bitch is loose!” Missy shrieked. “Brendan, you idiot! I told you to check the restraints!”

  The fog swirled. Jack was being pulled out of the tube. Replacement was tugging at the strap on his wrist.

  Brendan rushed up behind her, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her into the air. She twisted and flailed in his arms, raking her fingernails across his face.

  Brendan shrieked and dropped her, and she fell back against Jack’s stretcher.

  “Punch her in the head!” Missy screeched.

  Replacement went back to work fumbling at Jack’s wrist strap and managed to pull the first part out of the buckle. She flashed only a brief smile before Brendan’s fist slammed into the side of her face so hard her head snapped around. Her body went limp, and she crumpled over Jack’s legs. Her eyes were open, but black. She was knocked out cold. Or dead.

  Brendan pushed her limp body onto the floor.

  “Is she dead?” Missy hissed.

  Brendan looked toward the control booth. “We can’t use her now anyway.” He walked over to the cart and took up one of the syringes.

  Jack lay on his back, counting the ceiling tiles and his options. He knew he was a violent man, deep down inside. There had always been a beast inside, rattling the bars of its cage. He feared it. He knew it for what it was: hate, pure and simple. He’d locked it away, but the monster didn’t die, it grew.

  Finding Michelle that day had awoken it. Ever since then, it raged inside, only semi-restrained in its broken cage, while Jack tried to control it.

  But now Jack embraced the hate.

  If you have to fight, fight to win. His father’s words.

  He released the beast.

  When he yanked up, his chest muscles tightened, and he felt as though his ribs splintered apart. He screamed, frothing at the mouth and biting the gag. Spit flew upward into a red mist. Jack felt something on the gurney crack as he contorted his body.

  Brendan turned to Jack, interested but unconcerned. “Go ahead and fight. You’ll never break those straps.” He leaned down again over Replacement, and pushed the plunger of the syringe, watching the reddish liquid arc into the air.

  The pain didn’t feel like pain anymore. All Jack felt was hate coursing through his battered body—fueling his rage. He pulled his arms down against the restraints, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He forced his legs to go stiff as boards and shot them up and out. Screaming, he planted his heels and pushed with everything he had, until his legs ripped free and pieces of molded resin flew through the air. A buckle landed on the floor.

  The beast was free.

  Brendan turned, startled, and Jack kicked him square in the face. The meth speeded up time so it felt like he’d had weeks to plan it. Brendan reeled into the glass wall and fell to the floor, letting go of the syringe.

  Jack struggled to release his arms. Brendan was retrieving the syringe from the floor. Jack roared in frustration and pulled up against the wrist straps.

  “Get him, Jack!” Replacement’s unsteady voice came from below.

  Suddenly, Jack’s arms were free.

  Replacement
slid out from underneath his stretcher, holding up two cotter pins in her trembling hand. Tears mixed with the blood on her face, but she still smiled up at him. “Get him, Jack.”

  “Kill him!” Missy’s order thundered over the speakers.

  Jack staggered, and his vision blurred, but he ripped the bit from his mouth and the tape off his eyes and leapt to his feet. Brendan stepped back, unprepared for the sudden turn of events, then regained his wits and charged.

  Jack’s left foot flashed out and smashed into Brendan’s hand. The syringe flew out, but Brendan’s momentum kept him coming forward. Jack stepped to the right and crashed his elbow into the side of Brendan’s head. He grabbed Brendan by his collar and belt. Pulling him against his leg, he twisted his body and pivoted his hip, crying out in agony. But his rage was still stronger.

  Brendan’s feet shot straight up, and when he reached the apex of the flip, Jack slammed him down. Brendan hit the floor with a sickening thump and his body went limp.

  “Jack!” Replacement pointed to the control room.

  In the control room, Missy held a gun—his gun—and was pointing it straight at him. Her lips curled back in a triumphant snarl. Everything slowed. Jack stumbled sideways. Then Missy turned and aimed the gun at Replacement’s chest.

  Pain tore along his thigh as he pushed off his rear foot and ran forward. He was too late. He saw the muzzle flash, then the small flames flicking out of the barrel, as the glass in front of Missy spiderwebbed.

  “Alice!” he cried, lunging forward. They crashed together onto the floor and slid across the black tiles.

  He jumped up and knelt over Replacement. His hands frantically searched her body, looking for the entry wound. She gazed up at him in bewilderment and shook her head. They stared in disbelief at the window.

  In the control booth, Missy was screaming and holding her bloody hand.

  The bullet had lodged in the thick glass; it hadn’t passed through.

  Jack knew what had happened. Another rookie mistake. She had wrapped her fingers around his gun too high, and the slide action had probably at least broken her thumb, if it hadn’t removed it altogether.

  Jack and Replacement got up and stumbled for the door, but it was locked from the outside.

  Replacement’s eyes flashed alarm. “Jack!” He tried to move, but he wasn’t fast enough. Brendan smashed into him and slammed Jack up against the wall.

  Brendan’s fist caught him in the jaw, and Jack’s head snapped to the side. He saw stars, and his feet slipped. His left arm grabbed for the wall as Brendan’s weight drove him to the ground. The back of Jack’s head smashed into the floor, and his whole body shook.

  Brendan knelt down on top of him and raised his fists. He punched with his right and then his left. Jack’s head whipped to the side with each blow. Jack knew what to do, but his body wasn’t cooperating. Pain burned through every cell as the punches rained down on him. A blow from the right split his lip open.

  Then a loud twang rang out, and Brendan’s eyes rolled back in his head. He pitched forward like a marionette cut from its strings.

  Replacement stood victoriously behind him, a stool clutched in her hands.

  Jack shoved the body off him and forced himself to sit up. He struggled to stand; each movement sent a wave of agony crashing over him. His hands violently trembled as he tore through Brendan’s pockets. “Where’s his pass?”

  Suddenly the whole room shook, and a muffled roar thundered from above. The lights flickered, and dust fell from the ceiling.

  Jack looked to Replacement. “That was an explosion.”

  He turned toward the control booth, but Missy also looked perplexed.

  The second explosion was so loud and powerful it knocked Jack off his feet. Ceiling tiles fell to the floor; the lights flickered and then went out. Sprinklers hissed, but no water came out.

  “Replacement?” Jack stumbled over to her.

  “Jack?” He heard the panic in her voice.

  Emergency lights flicked on. The small lights cast a strange amber glow around the room.

  “What the hell happened?” Jack helped Replacement to her feet.

  “I may have done that…” she said sheepishly.

  Behind them, the large machine was emitting a high-pitched whine that was rapidly increasing in intensity. The electrical wires and hanging lights bent toward it, as the uncontrolled magnet continued its insatiable pull, even without power.

  “We have to go!” Replacement cried out.

  Jack slipped his arm around her waist and moved for the door. He tried the handle, but it still wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s a keypad.” Replacement ran to the wall and frantically punched in codes. “Four digits. I saw the first three.” Replacement typed in numbers, pulling the handle after each attempt. “Bingo.”

  The door swung open. There was smoke in the hallway.

  “Wait!” Missy’s muffled scream came from behind the glass. “Wait!” She pounded on the window. “I can’t get out! Something fell in front of the door. I’m trapped!” Missy yelled.

  Through the glass, Jack could see that the explosion had bent the control room door out of its frame.

  “You wanted to find the God Spot? It looks like God has come looking for you.”

  “Please,” Missy begged. “You have to help me. You’re a policeman!”

  Smoke was seeping into the room.

  Jack glared at his torturer. He grabbed the stool, rushed toward the window, and slammed the stool against it, but the glass didn’t break, it only spiderwebbed. He groaned and swung the stool again with everything he had.

  The fMRI whirled louder and louder. A metal pipe ripped through the wall behind Missy.

  “The shielding’s broken. Please!”

  Metal objects from the hallway flew through the air and slammed into the fMRI. The metal pipes of the sprinkler system above the ceiling were pulling—shrieking, twisting—toward the colossal supermagnet, now that the explosion had cracked the shielding.

  The ceiling of the control room cracked as the metal bent toward the machine. The broken window was finally pulled out of its frame in a shower of glass. Then, with a deafening roar, the whole control room collapsed in on itself—and Missy’s screams were silenced.

  Jack grabbed Replacement and hurried her through the door into the hallway. It was their only choice. Holding each other up, they limped down the corridor. The smoke was already thick, especially along the ceiling, and they had to walk hunched over. Beneath their feet, the floor was moving.

  They could just make out the emergency exit sign and were stumbling toward it when there was a loud crash, and they were flung several feet nearer to their goal. Ceiling tiles and lighting strips rained down on them as the hallway behind them disappeared into rubble.

  There’s no way I can get Brendan out now.

  “Jack! Come on!”

  Replacement’s voice, and the need within it, gave Jack just enough strength to shrug off the debris that littered his shoulders. He staggered back onto his feet. Keeping low, he grabbed Replacement’s hand and made a final dash for the exit sign.

  They reached a stairwell that led up.

  “Here.” Jack took off his shirt and ripped it in half. He handed half to her and put the other half over his face.

  Replacement looked up at the staircase filled with thick black smoke. “We can’t go up!”

  “Over here.” Jack had seen a utility door at the bottom of the stairs, and it opened. The door opened onto a narrow service corridor with no emergency lighting.

  “Follow me and don’t let go.” He took her hand and with his other hand, felt his way along the corridor. Even here, farther from the center of destruction, the whole building continued to shudder, and debris rained down on them.

  He felt the cold touch of metal. A door. He waved his hand around until he felt a handle.

  They burst through the door and out into the night. Coughing, they staggered forward. A light snow was fall
ing, mixed with glowing embers. Broken glass, bricks, pipes, and unidentifiable shards lay everywhere, while flames from the burning structure behind cast strange shadows and made everything dance and sway before their eyes.

  Stumbling, they climbed the small hill and found themselves at the corner of the parking lot.

  Replacement reached out and took Jack’s hand. Sirens sounded in the distance, approaching. They could feel the heat where they stood, but Jack wasn’t cold; his body still burned from the drug.

  Half of the psychology center had blown up, and the entire building was engulfed in flames.

  Replacement closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, God.”

  Jack pulled her close. They held on to each other as the flames flickered in each other’s eyes and the snow sparkled around them.

  Jack watched the snow create a veil of white on Replacement’s hair and shoulders. He smiled; he knew a miracle when he saw one. Her right eye was swollen shut, and her whole face was smeared with soot, blood, and tears, but she smiled back.

  “How did you do that?” He nodded toward the fire.

  “Brendan chased me into the chem lab. I started trashing the place and mixing everything together, hoping it would set off the fire alarm, but I never thought…” With a look of surprise, she gestured to the destroyed building.

  Jack laughed so hard that tears ran down his face in spite of the pain, and he pulled her in closer, as if he would never let her go.

  42

  I Got This One

  The Impala cruised down the highway toward Fairfield. Replacement stretched her legs out onto the dashboard, and Jack winced. Her ankles were bruised from the restraints. Her jaw was swollen, and her eyes were black-and-blue.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. I won’t be winning any beauty contests, either.

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “What?” She wiggled around in her seat.