by Nick Thacker
We’re the targets, Ben realized. He wasn’t sure how it was all connected, but he knew these soldiers were the exact same ones that had destroyed Amanda’s company and murdered her employee. He felt a surge of anger, then adrenaline, but had the resolve to pause and remember that he wasn’t armed. Even if he had been, there would be nothing he could do against their guns and training.
He was a sitting duck, and they were in between him and Julie.
He forced himself to breathe, sliding over a few feet to his left, fully hiding now behind the check-in counter. It wouldn’t do much good, but it bought him a few precious seconds.
They’re trained well. They’re not going to just leave here without searching thoroughly. They’ll find me, and then —
He was cut off by the sound of more gunfire, this time farther away.
Jules.
He started breathing faster, now unable to control his excitement. If they found her…
He forced the thought out of his mind, knowing it wouldn’t lead to anything productive. You need a plan, Harvey. He looked around. There wasn’t even a fire extinguisher hanging on a wall. The three computers at the check-in station all had keyboards and separate monitors, but if he threw them at the attackers it wouldn’t do much more than call attention to himself.
I have to get to Julie. He dared himself to stand up, peering out over the counter.
The soldiers were gone.
The lobby was empty, save for the dust and remnants of smoke still billowing around the ceiling.
He stood up a bit more, now able to see the entire lobby area. Paulinho and Amanda were nowhere to be seen, and neither were the soldiers.
What the hell?
He heard a shout from outside the building, then another stream of gunfire. His eyes caught the far-off flicker of a three-round burst of gunfire from an assault rifle, and he instinctively ducked behind the computer in front of him. The shots never landed, and he rose back up to see the exchange.
Another flash of light — only one this time, and he heard a sickening thud and a scream as the bullet apparently found its mark. Another yell, unintelligible, rang out, followed by more shots.
He watched the exchange for a few more seconds until a huge spotlight lit the parking lot in front of the hotel. The blinding brightness of the yellow glow stung his eyes, but as they adjusted he saw an empty parking lot, full of glistening dew and a thin haze of smoke in the air.
Nothing else moved. He waited a full minute, then another. He thought about reaching for his cell phone to call Julie, but then remembered they hadn’t even set up their international service yet.
Another minute passed, and Ben stared at the parking lot until a shadow moved. It grew, the shape of a man emerging from it, silhouetted in the glow. He walked toward the hotel, taking a long, circuitous route through cars and between pillars, obviously attempting to remain behind cover.
He got close to the first of the broken glass walls, and stepped through. He was now in the lobby.
“Paulinho!” he shouted. He raised his weapon, a short, stubby pistol, in front of him. A longer rifle was mounted on his back, diagonally between his shoulder blades.
Ben watched and waited.
“Paulinho? If you’re alive, now’s a good time to prove it to me, buddy.”
Ben held his breath.
Paulinho stepped out from behind the wall separating the lobby from the hallway. Ben winced, waiting for another gunshot or explosion, but none came.
“Well, look at that! You survived!” the man yelled toward an obviously shaken Paulinho.
“Reggie!” Paulinho said. “Are — are you sure it’s safe out there?”
Reggie crunched over broken glass strewn about the lobby floor and came to embrace Paulinho.
“It’s safe, for now,” Reggie said. “They’ll be back for their flood wash, though.” Reggie motioned toward the massive light array that was pointing at them from the parking lot. “I set up staged-detonation rounds, mostly for effect. Made it seem like a whole squad was up on the hill. They never saw me — decided to get away with what they had, probably to regroup and come back later.”
They stood together a moment, then Reggie urged Paulinho toward the wall at the back of the lobby. “Still,” he said, “probably smart to get out of the light. Anyone with an aim half as good as mine could hit you from out there.”
Paulinho turned to face Ben as he stood from behind the booth. Ben brushed off his sleeves and jeans, wiping away the dust and fragments of drywall that had collected there. He lifted a hand, still unsteady from the explosions, and waved.
“Harvey!” Paulinho shouted. “Please, join us. Julie is here, too.”
Ben felt a wave of relief pass over him. He glanced out toward the parking lot as he started walking through the lobby, but couldn’t see anything other than the brilliant light of the flood lamp. He reached the other side, joining Paulinho and Reggie just as they had turned the corner into the hallway.
Julie rushed forward and grabbed Ben, embracing him. Her laptop bag bounced on her shoulder, swinging along behind her as she ran toward him. Amanda stood behind her, terror in her eyes. Ben thought about saying something, but nothing seemed appropriate. The woman had lost her company, her employees had been murdered, and now it was clear she was being hunted. Nothing Ben could say would do anything to calm her.
He looked again at Julie. “Are you okay?”
“I — I heard everything, and then I looked out, and… I rushed downstairs when it all started.”
He squeezed her, then let go. “I’m fine. Glad you’re okay. Did you see anyone else in the halls?”
“There were a couple of families, and a few other people. We all ducked into our rooms when it started, but I think the hotel’s mostly empty.”
Paulinho introduced Reggie to the group. “This is Reggie, our history expert. He’s also an ex-Army sniper.”
Reggie bowed with a practiced flourish, and grinned. “American Army, in case you were wondering. Glad to meet you. Sorry it’s got to be under these less-than desirable circumstances.”
Ben immediately felt turned off by the man and his cockiness. He was about the same age as Ben, mid-forties by the looks of it, but he hadn’t lost an ounce of his Army-days physique. Chiseled jawline, hardened brow, and the ability to smile with his mouth, yet keep his eyes cold and calculating.
Ben stuck out a hand, preparing for the man’s death grip. It came, and Ben forced himself to keep his expression muted as he felt his fingers and palm being crushed together in the vice grip.
“We owe you a thanks,” Ben said. “I’m not sure we’d be alive without you.”
The man waved off the thanks. “It’s nothing. Just glad Paulinho had the sense to give me a ring before it all went to hell here. I like history, but I really like a good fight.” He turned and looked behind them at the devastation in the lobby. Pieces of ceiling tile and lighting fixtures littered the floor, and dust and chunks of wall continued to fall as they became fully dislodged from the structure. Ben could hear police and ambulance sirens ringing out from the distance, closing in.
“Like I said, though, we should be clearing out. They’ll be back, and I’m guessing they’ll be a little better prepared.”
“Where are we going to go?” Amanda suddenly asked. It was clear what her question really meant: Can we really hide from them?
Reggie considered it a moment. “You’re the girl they’re after, right?”
She nodded. “Amanda Meron,” she said.
“Dr. Amanda Meron,” Paulinho added.
Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Then we just need to hide you. They don’t want anything to do with the rest of us.”
Amanda looked confused. “Excuse me?”
Reggie burst out a laugh. “I’m kidding!” He smiled, surprised for some reason that no one else shared his affection for mildly off-color humor. Ben watched him closely, still not trusting the man that had saved their lives. In an instant, his fac
ial expression changed. His eyes and brow receded back to its prior state of cold nothingness, and the smile was replaced with the look of someone who’d been through enough in life to deserve a serious outlook on it. “Here’s the plan: I’m in charge, at least until we’re clear of these bozos. When I say we’re safe, then — and only then — do we try to figure out what they want with you, Doc.”
Everyone but Ben nodded, and Reggie continued. “However, we do need a destination, so we might as well get somewhere safe that might also help us along. Any ideas? A library? An office?”
Amanda shook her head. “No, just somewhere with a good internet connection. Julie — the laptop?”
Julie’s face brightened a bit. “Right! I forgot all about that.” She swung the laptop bag around and unzipped the top, showing off the silver machine tucked inside. “Here it is.”
Amanda explained to Reggie. “Let’s move out. Anywhere but here. We think Dr. Ortega — one of my employees — was trying to tell us something. I’ll need to access our shared folder from the secure cloud backup site.”
Reggie was already moving down the hallway, but he nodded and motioned for them to follow. “Right on. Sounds good; let’s take the side exit, see if we can’t get out and around the building. I parked over the hill in the parking lot next door, and we can all fit there.”
“What about their stuff?” Paulinho asked.
“Right, and our rental car?” Julie added. Ben and Julie had a rental, but Paulinho and Amanda had driven over in Amanda’s hatchback.
“You won’t need it anymore,” Reggie said, still talking over his shoulder. “Besides, you ever see those movies with the cars that blow up when you turn the key?”
Julie shot a glance at Ben, but he didn’t say anything. This guy’s sick, Ben thought. But he seems to be confident enough to get us through this. And if Ben knew anything about these situations, it was that confidence — if nothing else — just might be enough to carry them through.
13
THEY DROVE FOR WHAT SEEMED like hours, toward Reggie’s self-described “compound.” He wouldn’t give more detail until they’d arrived, but only said that it was where he lived and worked when he wasn’t in the city. When Ben awoke again and looked at the dash clock, he was surprised to see that they had, in fact, driven for nearly two hours. Straight north, almost reaching into the lower basin of the world-famous jungle territory. Most of the drive was pitch black, and Julie and Ben had used the time to catch up on their sleep.
Amanda and Paulinho were on Julie’s laptop, using Reggie’s ad-hoc wireless network from his cellphone to connect the computer to the internet and download the information Dr. Ortega had left for them.
Julie had been right — Dr. Ortega had indeed been trying to tell them something, without the information getting into the wrong hands. He’d meticulously organized the images in the folders into numbered files, then uploaded an explanatory video he’d titled pega-veretas. The video was large, and since the phone had an almost-unusable download speed, they’d been waiting the entire drive to discover what the video and files were all about.
Ben heard a gentle ding as the download finished, and he nudged Julie. She wiped a trickle of drool from the side of her mouth, then looked up at the computer on Amanda’s lap in the front seat.
“It’s done,” Amanda said. Paulinho stretch up in the seat behind Amanda’s, next to Ben, and looked over her shoulder at the screen. “Ready?”
She pressed play before anyone could respond.
“Dr. Meron, if you’re watching this, there is a good chance I am dead. I…” the man in the video, Dr. Juan Ortega, swallowed hard, then clenched his teeth and began again. “I — I’m sorry. Please tell my family that I love them, and…” He couldn’t finish the statement. “Yes. You know. Well, at approximately 8:55pm, the NARATech facilities were breached and entered by what appears to be a military operation. They immediately shot and killed our two guards on duty, and raced toward the main laboratory section, where I was testing a theory. I was able to move to the conference room and begin uploading this video, along with some of the research that I believe proves my theory.”
The man was analytical, and Ben could tell he was trying to outline the events in as clear and concise way as possible. To him, it must have seemed surreal, but his education and training took over and he tried to keep his voice steady for the camera, providing as much detail as possible that might be useful in the inevitable police investigation that would follow.
“I will try to send a quick update directly to your phone, but it will no doubt be low quality. Since you are watching this video, you’ve obviously seen that video, and the message therein. Here is the entire message: I have a theory about the golden man we have seen in the dreams of the subjects. ‘Pega-veretas’ is a game I play with my daughters. I saw the sticks, and how some of them seemed to point in a certain direction.”
The man paused once more, gathering his thoughts, then continued.
“There is not time to fully describe my thought process, so unfortunately the scientific method will have to wait.” He smiled. “I’m sure you can understand the results I’ve collected in these folders.”
The video ended, abruptly, and Ben wondered if there was supposed to be more to it. He almost asked, but Amanda and Paulinho seemed more concerned with the files tucked away in each of the folders.
“What’s the ‘golden man?’ Julie asked.
Paulinho seemed stumped as well, so they all waited for Amanda to respond. When she did, she turned to her left to address all of the small SUV’s occupants.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A man, completely gold-colored, that we’ve been observing.”
“Like watching?” Paulinho asked.
“Yes, but in our subjects’ dream-states. They have dreams, we observe the dreams and record what video we can, and then discuss the results when they wake up. But in some of our subjects we’re seeing this golden man. He’s always looking directly at us.”
“How is he looking at you?”
“Well, technically it’s an impression from the subject’s subconscious imaging. Their mind is preparing the image of the golden man, and they are preparing it in a way that the man is always looking directly at the subject — what we have been calling the ‘camera.’”
Ben shuddered. The research they were doing at NARATech was even creepier than he’d initially thought. Recording dreams? ‘Watching’ peoples’ memories?
“This golden man has been the subject of much debate in my company for the past month. We couldn’t figure out why he shows up in only some of our patients’ memories, and why the patients themselves have no idea who he is.”
Ben leaned forward in the chair. “Wait a second — the patients don’t know about the golden man?”
Amanda shook her head. “No. They’re completely clueless, and sometimes even argumentative when we show them the playback of the recording. They’re adamant they’ve never seen the man before.”
They sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. They turned left onto a long, dirt road, and Amanda spoke again. “What’s more, our technology isn’t strong enough to clearly transpose all of the electrical signals output by the brain. We generally get close, and we can tell, for example, that a subject is walking down a street, or driving, or at a party, but we can’t see faces clearly, and most objects are blurry shades of light.”
Ben waited for her to say, ‘but.’
“But,” she said, “the golden man — when he shows up — is always perfectly in focus. Every time, without fail. No matter where in the images he appears, he’s perfectly outlined, and we can even see his facial features.”
Ben had almost forgotten that Reggie was in the front seat, driving, until he spoke up.
“Sounds like you’ve stumbled on something worth killing for. I’d say you’re in over your head, but I’m no expert.”
14
JULIE WAS SHAKEN, BUT DID her best to keep her fears
hidden. If Ben had taught her anything, it was that no good could come from broadcasting your fears and insecurities to the world. She wasn’t sure she completely believed him, but she had to admit that forcing herself to calm down, breathe, and exude confidence instead of weariness was at least helping her keep cool in the situation.
So far, they’d been shot at, nearly blown up, threatened, and chased, and there was no sign that it would stop anytime soon. Julie wanted to go home, to go back to their quaint, beautiful, and simple cabin in the woods deep in the heart of Alaska, but she knew she couldn’t.
As Ben said, there were problems you ran from, and problems you didn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but it always seemed to make sense in the situation. So far they’d only experienced the type of problem you weren’t supposed to run from, and this “problem,” she knew, was also that type of problem.
Ben was probably the most stubborn person she’d ever met, save for her father and grandfather, but Ben was definitely the closest to her. He’d made it his mission to find Drache Global, Drage Medisinsk, or Dragonstone, whomever they might be, and bring them to justice. It was a long shot, and it was likely going to get him killed, but there was nothing she could do to convince him of that.
She’d even tried leaving, but she couldn’t do it. Hours of arguing and slamming doors had taught her that there was nothing that could force them apart, except, ironically, death. It was an interesting game, fighting about something that might lead to death, but being unable to win the game without actually dying.
She thought about that now, as the SUV pulled onto the fourth and final dirt road, this one a long driveway that led to a run-down shack sitting in the middle of nowhere. It was unbelievably small, no more than ten feet wide, and Julie had to do a double-take when she realized it was the only real building in the area.
