Warrior: A Salvation Society Novel

by A. M. Brooks

  Ruby nods her head silently and begins dialing. I’m about to turn back and head to my office when the front door chimes. A man steps in dressed for an interview, smiling. “Afternoon ladies, I’m Malik Carlson. I’m here to see Dr. Taylor.”

  Everything around me slows, while my heart rate increases, and the blood drains from my face. “No!” I rush down the hallway and fling open my office door. The room is empty. I stalk off to the men’s room and throw open all the doors on my way there. He’s gone. I bang my fist on the bathroom door, aware that Ruby and the real Malik Carlson are not far behind me. “If you’re in there come out now or I’ll call the police,” I yell through the door. Seconds pass without a response.

  “Ruby, call 9-1-1 and Brody please,” I clip out, before shoving the door open. The small room is completely empty. Only the faint smell of men’s cologne lingers in the air. My pulse races. I hurry to the back door and realize it’s unlocked. I run out into the parking lot, Malik hot on my heels. I spin in circles looking for the man who tricked his way into my office. Everything becomes blurry and I have to bend over to catch my breath.

  “You, okay?” I hear Malik’s voice, so much warmer than the imposter’s. “Just keep your head down and breathe, Dr. Taylor.”

  I follow his instructions and listen as he talks on his cell phone to dispatch. I can’t breathe, fear clogs my throat. I need Colt here like last time.

  “Cops are on the way,” Malik tells me, while helping me to stand. “Let’s get you back inside.” I nod, following him back into the building. He locks the door once we enter. He helps me back out front by Ruby, who is talking fast on the phone.

  “I did take a copy of his license,” she’s telling him, “I’ll fax the one I have. Can you send what you have on record for Malik Carlson.”

  “Sorry,” I tell the man next to me, and he grins.

  “Nah,” he shakes his head, “I’m a little freaked out the dude knew I was going to be here, but honestly, I’m glad I’m here now. I heard about what happened. Sounds like this time it may be personal.”

  “Yeah,” I manage a small laugh and instantly regret it when the rumbles upset my stomach.

  “Lyric,” Ruby hands me the phone, “it’s for you.”

  “Hello,” I say into the receiver, expecting Brody.

  “Lyric,” Colt says my name, the words wrapped in worry. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a little shaken,” I answer honestly, “Can you come here?”

  “I wish. I’m actually upstate right now investigating a lead. I’ll stop by tonight though as soon as I get back, okay?”

  “Okay,” I tell him, secretly loving that he has the ability to be there for me as soon as he can. “Promise?”

  “I promise,” he answers. “I have to get going. Sounds like the calvary is on the way to BBT. Hang in there. Text me when you leave.”

  “I will,” I tell him, and the line goes dead. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. People I trust are coming. I’m okay. Everyone is okay.

  It takes three hours this time for my place to be scoured for fingerprints and for the three of us to be interviewed. Brody is able to show me the real license and information on Malik Carlson, who does happen to be the gentleman who showed up at his designated time today. He and Brody get along easily while they work with Chesapeake PD to identify him correctly, just in case. I feel like an idiot. Ruby hands over the picture she took this morning to Brody who seals it up as evidence. For the second time in history, I close early and plan to stay closed until everything is situated. For some reason, a target is now on my back because Lukas Deverouix, or whoever he is, couldn’t pass his exam.

  Brody stays until Ruby and I are in our vehicles ready to leave. I quickly text Colt that I’m heading home. He doesn’t respond right away and I try not to feel bad, knowing he’s out in the field. With a wave to Brody, I head out onto the main highway, ready to get home and be in my safe space. The sky is starting to get dark by the time I pull into my garage. I notice the unmarked car is there and I wave. Grabbing my bag, I head to the front door, reaching for my keys as fast as I can. The same shivers on my spine as before return, finally alerting me that I’m not alone. I turn to scream, but I’m crowded into the door and fabric covers my face. My arms swing and my mouth freezes in an open scream. I can feel my body going numb and my eyes wanting to close, the blackness waiting for me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Colt

  The drive back to Virginia Beach takes longer than I anticipate. My knee bounces the whole way back. It has been hours since Lyric texted that she was leaving BBT and heading home. I check my phone over and over again, feeling desperate to get to her. After I get dropped off at Cole Security and go through the debriefing, it has been almost five hours. I practically sprint to my car and drive straight to her house.

  Unease grows in my stomach when I pull up outside of her house. The entire place is dark. I guess she could have gone to bed, except she knew I was coming. I look at the message I sent her right before I left. All of them are read, but she didn’t answer any of them. I get out and head over to the parked, unmarked car down the road. The closer I get, the more I notice something doesn’t feel right. Both guys are slumped in their seats.

  I take off running back to Lyric’s house. The front door is locked. I peek in the window and notice a form lying on the floor in the living room. Without thinking, I grab the closest rock under the window and use it to shatter the glass by the front door. I reach around and unlock the door. “Lyric!” I call to her. She’s kneeling on the floor, but her head rises. I see the duct tape on her mouth and she shakes her head frantically at me, tears falling down her face. I don’t stop to question how she got there, where the person is who did this to her, or even about the fact that I should call for help. All my mind sees is red. The woman I love has been hurt and I need to get to her. In this moment, I’d rather take a few rounds of bullets to the chest than see the fear and hopelessness that’s written across her face. That is also my most fatal flaw.

  My brain doesn’t register until it happens. An arm wraps around my neck. Mine start thrashing, ready to grapple. My jaw clenches, right as there’s a small poke to the side of my neck followed by a stinging sensation. I feel my legs get weak, my muscles unable to coordinate. I hear Lyric scream behind the tape covering her mouth. My eyes try to track where she’s at, only my vision is blurring. I lift my arm in one last attempt to knock the person behind me before everything goes dark.

  “Colt,” Lyric whispers my name over and over. It sounds like she’s praying and I have to take a minute to make sure I didn’t die. That this isn’t heaven and she’s not crying over my casket. My legs feel sluggish. There’s a pain behind my eyes and it feels like I took a beating around my rib cage. My brain scrambles to put together my last memories. Lyric. Her house, the security detail knocked-out, Lyric crying with tape on her mouth, and the prick of a needle.

  I open my eyes, and instantly have to squeeze them shut from the brightness in the room. I’m pushed up against a concrete wall and sitting on a cement floor. It looks like a bunker. God knows how long I’ve been out of it. We could be miles away from Lyric’s house. This obviously took time and planning. From what I can sense and see, it appears we’re alone.

  “Colt?” I hear Lyric again. This time my head turns toward her. “Oh thank god.” She blows out a breath and wipes the side of her face on her shoulder. Her hands are bound behind her back, but at least the tape is off her mouth. She’s alive.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. Words feel foreign on my tongue. I swallow a few times, trying to ease the feeling of swallowing wood splinters away.

  “Are you?” she asks, looking at me, like she used to when I would make her mad in high school. I grin. “You must have a death wish.”

  “I can assure you, I do not,” I tell her, trying to force my body up straighter. “Is it Deverouix?”

  “Yes,” Lyric says then laughs, “I can see why he tried fak
ing his testing now. Honest answers would have shown he’s psychotic.”

  Slowly my brain filters in all the information we learned earlier today. How many years this group of thousands of individuals has been preying on us under the radar. Homegrown terrorists, infiltrating ranks and turning on their own. “What level of psychotic, just to be clear? Like Dahmer?”

  She snorts. “No. But this whole scenario could definitely be an episode of Criminal Minds.”

  “Only if I’m played by Shemar Moore,” I say, keeping her talking and keeping things light, while I try to figure out how to get us out of here.

  She huffs next to me. “He’s not on the show any longer, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, maybe he’d make a guest appearance.” I shrug.

  Lyric stares at me for a second before she laughs. “Only you would find something in this situation to make me feel better. I can’t believe you did it.”

  “Did what?” I ask, while twisting around to see what my ties are made of.

  “You came in my house. You fell right into the trap he wanted you too. Typical Colt, making decisions without thinking.”

  Each word is like a bullet, my vision clouds, and anger bubbles under my skin. “Damn right I made the choice to come in there! You were hurt. I’d rather be here with you right now, than have let you be on your own. I don’t fucking care what happens to me, Lyric. I would do anything for you. I will die for you if it means you get out of here safe,” I snap back at her.

  I hear her sniffle and a sob escapes her. “Do you honestly think I could live with myself if you die because of me, Colt?”

  “It would be worth it to me. You are worth it, Lyric. I still love you. I promise we will get out of here,” I tell her, my words fierce and confidence strong. The will to live builds inside. I finally have something and someone to be here for. Right now I make the choice to treat this like any mission. I’ll push down the emotions and concentrate on survival. “Start moving and stretching your bindings.”

  I hear a rustle and watch her face as she tries to concentrate on the task I gave her. My eyes dart around the room, now that I can fully open them and the spinning has stopped. There are zero windows and one door. As expected, it looks like a fallout shelter. The door is complete steel and looks bulletproof. I pull and stretch at my own bindings, hoping that at least if Lyric can get out of hers, I have a knife stashed in my boot. Fucking moron didn’t think to even pat me down.

  “Well, well, well,” a new voice says, right as the door opens and the man I’d seen pictures of steps inside. “About time Soldier Boy woke up.”

  I keep my face expressionless, only a hint of amusement flickers in my eyes. My refusal to acknowledge the degrading nickname riles him up even more.

  “All you soldiers, so willing to step in line and fight for something no one believes in anymore, makes me disgusted. You’re all pathetic,” he seethes, his eyes flaring, and I suddenly understand the psychotic side Lyric was talking about.

  “So pathetic yet you and your, what are they called, Dream Snatchers? Yeah, yet you all fight your hardest to join. There must be no other way to get your deranged beliefs across, right?” I question, not caring about the taunting way my words sound.

  His face burns a bright red and he starts pacing, too worked up to even realize how hard I’m working to stretch and pull at the restraints. Fucking zip ties.

  “This is the part that no one understands! And it’s the most genius part of our calling. You’re all so attached to your social media, your elitist problems that you all fail to realize that this country is on the brink of destruction, which makes it sooooo easy to tear it apart from the inside!” Deverouix goes on and on, his eyes bulging and bloodshot with every word he emphasizes and elongates.

  Two things happen at once. My last restraint snaps, and Deverouix pulls a blade out of his back pocket. I lunge anyway, taking him by surprise and knocking him off his feet. He swings at me and I attempt to trap his arm or knock the weapon away with my boot. I’m painfully aware that my own knife is within reach. I just need him to be unarmed for a second. I’m able to shove him, knocking his hand, and it drops, slicing my hand on the way down. I kick right and he lands a punch to my abdomen. Faking a double-over, I grab my own blade. He snarls at me, coming back for more; only this time, I’m faster. I swing at him, nicking his shoulder when he moves. He manages to round me and grab me in a chokehold. With one hand on his arm, I hook my ankle around his leg, breaking free and taking him down to his knees. I lurch toward where my knife dropped at the same time he charges at me. I turn and slam my knife right into his throat. Any feeling of triumph I had is soon swept away by the searing pain in my gut from the knife in his hand. Shit.

  I move back, and he falls forward. Blood spurting out of the wound I gave him and trickling out of his mouth. His eyes go wide as if he just realized how fucked he is. I’m covered in blood. His and mine combined. I fall to a knee.

  “Colt!” Lyric yells my name, then she’s right there next to me as I sprawl out on my back.

  “Phone,” I manage to rasp out to her, pointing at Deverouix’s dead body. She takes the hint and rummages in his pockets. She pulls a phone out and scoots closer to me.

  “Shit! No signal.” She looks defeated, and I’m scared she’ll cry again.

  “Go,” I tell her, holding her blue eyes with my own, “take it and go until you find reception. Call everyone.”

  I’m starting to feel like I’m having an out of body experience. My words feel far away and my vision looks as if I’m watching what is happening. Obviously Deverouix hit something vital when he stabbed me. I can taste the coppery tang of blood in the back of my throat.

  “I can’t leave you.” Lyric sobs next to me.

  With the little energy I have, my hand reaches for her. “You have to so we can both get out of here. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “You can’t die on me, Colt!” she shouts, pulling my hand to her cheek. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. You can’t leave me again.”

  “I won’t. You owe me a trip down the aisle someday Taylor. I need to see that dress,” I manage to laugh and cough up blood at the same time. Her face pales.

  “I’m coming right back,” Lyric whispers as she kisses my forehead.

  In the next second, she’s gone, and I feel cold. I’ve always assumed this is what dying would be like. Pictures of your life playing like a movie in your mind, some of the sweetest memories burning the brightest while the saddest ones make your chest ache. After years of not caring whether I lived or died, as long as I kept my country safe, it sure sucks to know I probably am not going to live this time. My biggest regret is not looking for Lyric sooner. For handling rejection the way I did. I think about my dad, AJ, Zane and all the things I’m going to miss out on. Even as my chest rattles and my breathing gets more difficult, I really hope that someone remembers to play “Wanted Dead or Alive” at my funeral and those idiots party at the bar afterward, taking shots and singing to “Carry On My Wayward Son.” I trust Zane will get it done. My eyes water, I realize it’s tears as they leak out and trail down into my hairline. Everything feels numb. My eyes close and as they do, I see Alex and the guy in the Crimson Tide sweatshirt who had his arm wrapped around my girl in the picture from her office. I see Lyric, her smile is the brightest before everything fades away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Colt

  I thought heaven was supposed to be quiet. I hope I didn’t end up in Hell or Purgatory, wherever guys like me go. All I know is it’s loud. The beeping is giving me a headache. I strain to move my legs and realize that that hurts too. There’s a searing pain behind my eyes the next time I open them.

  “Colt?” Her voice calls to me. I manage to turn my head and lock eyes with the love of my life.

  “Lyric,” saying her name is difficult, but damn, it feels good.

  “Page the doctor,” she says over her shoulder before turning back to me, taking my hand in hers.
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  “What happened?” I manage to get out, my throat is killing me and tastes like plastic.

  “You almost died, fucker,” Zane says from my other side. I turn toward him the best I can, my head swimming from the motion. “You’ve been in the hospital for four days. They had to put you in a coma after your surgery.”

  “Coma, huh?” I crack a grin, and Lyric laughs, before covering her mouth with her hand.

  “It’s not funny! I thought you were dead, Colt. When I finally got back, we couldn’t wake you. There was so much blood.”

  “Hey, I’m okay,” I tell her, reaching again for her hand, “I promised.”

  “It was touch and go, man,” Zane responds. He also looks like he’s been through the wringer.

  “Thanks for being here,” I tell him, nodding my head, and he dips his chin in response. This was the closest either of us has been to death and we’ve each been through a lot.

  “Alright, Mr. Street, good to see you awake.” A doctor in green scrubs and a white coat comes breezing into my room, clipboard in hand. What surprises me more is when my dad and AJ follow close on his heels.

  “Dad?” I question, drawing his eyes to me. I see immediate relief in his features, and I swear his eyes shine.

  “It’s good to see you awake, son,” he says, his voice rough.

  “What’s the word, Doc?” AJ asks, his hand resting on my leg.

  “We managed to stop your internal bleeding and sewed up the artery that was struck. While in surgery, you did code and we had to use paddles. Your chest and abdomen will feel sore. You lost a lot of blood, so we kept you in a medically induced coma for a few days to give you time to heal,” the doctor reads off, while keeping his eyes on me. “How are you feeling now?”