RISE

by R. D. Brady

  The feeling of guilt pushed down on her chest. Iggy was supposed to have been one of her targets. But Norah hadn’t been able to bring herself to pull the trigger. They’d been told everyone on the hit list was dangerous. But there had been something innocent about Iggy, something that made her unable to kill him or to even let anyone know she had found him.

  She wasn’t sure if it was just because he was Iggy or the doubts that she’d secretly been developing that had caused her to react differently that day. But she was glad she had. While she’d never wanted to be tied down, not even to a dog, she simply could not imagine her life without Iggy. They belonged together. She knew it in her bones.

  And now she needed to figure out a way for them to live without the world finding out about him. Or without D.E.A.D. trying to kill them. And right now the only safe place was with Tilda’s group. And she wasn’t even sure how safe that was. She’d never heard of the agency. And Tilda, the woman in charge, wasn’t exactly coming forth with a lot of information.

  She looked around, not sure where the heck they even were but keenly aware of the guards surrounding them. They were said to be there for their own protection, but Norah wasn’t convinced of that yet.

  Not that she currently had a lot of options.

  She thought they were somewhere along the coast of Canada, but she couldn’t swear to it. This was their last burst of freedom before they headed to the airfield. Norah didn’t know where they were heading, but she prayed it was somewhere that Iggy could at least swing from some trees.

  She glanced at her watch. Time to go. “Come on, Ig. We need to head back.” She scanned the treetops but had lost sight of him. “Ig?”

  A shadow flew over her, and she managed to get her hands up as he flew at her. “Ig!”

  Norah laughed as she caught him, hugging him to her chest. She released him, and he scrambled up to her shoulders. Taking a seat, he rested his arms on the top of her head. “Ig,” he sighed happily.

  Norah patted his legs as she headed back to the building. But the happy feeling drifted farther and farther away the closer she got to the buildings. She gripped Iggy’s legs a little tighter.

  “Ig?”

  “It’s okay, buddy,” she said softly. “I’ve got you.”

  And she did. Because protecting Iggy was her new life goal. And she would do it until there was no breath left in her body. He had her, and she had him. Keeping him safe was now her primary motivation.

  And God help anyone who tried to harm either of them.

  Chapter Six

  Tribune, Kansas

  Before leaving the house, Sandra grabbed them each a sweatshirt and Luke’s shoes. He’d run outside without putting them on. She hurried to join Luke in the car. He sat trembling in his seat as she tossed his sneakers at the floor in front of him before sitting.

  Luke grabbed the shoes, hugging them to his chest. “Hurry up, Mom. Hurry up.”

  His terror was contagious. Sandra found herself shaking as she inserted the keys into the ignition. She had the car in drive and was moving quickly down the driveway and onto the street before she reached over and yanked on her seatbelt.

  Luke continued to shake, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat, emitting a soft hum. Sandra white-knuckled the steering wheel to keep from punching down on the accelerator.

  This is crazy. He had a dream. That’s all. He hadn’t mentioned Sammy since the incident. She watched him from the corner of her eyes. “Did you see Sammy, honey?”

  Luke shook his head. Sandra studied him, not sure what to make of his behavior. Her attention shifted from the road to the sky, and she realized she was looking for a large set of wings. She took a breath. Okay, pull it in. He had a nightmare. That’s all. Time to calm things down. “Well, since we’re up, how about we go to the diner? Mitch will make us some pancakes. Doesn’t that sound good?”

  Luke didn’t answer, but Sandra knew that she could do with some pancakes herself. Mitch, the owner of the diner, had been trying to force-feed both her and Luke ever since the incident at the farmhouse. And there was something comforting about having someone else cook for you.

  Sandra glanced down at the worn sweatpants and old T-shirt she was wearing. She wasn’t exactly dressed for going out into town. But luckily no one but a few regulars would be around this early in the morning. And they had definitely seen her looking worse.

  Her heart calming, she felt a little better. Maybe she just needed to get out of the house. Break the routine of nightmare, morning rush, work all day, evening fear of the night’s nightmares, followed by the actual nightmares, and repeat.

  She breathed in deep, rolling down the window. Fresh air, tinged with the scent of fresh dirt, drifted through the open window. It smelled like home. She smiled. There was no one out on the road yet. The sun hadn’t even broken the horizon, although the telltale pink showed that it wasn’t far off.

  Luke continued his humming and rocking.

  The momentary peace slowly disappeared. She couldn’t pretend this was some sort of progress. Sandra didn’t know what had spurred Luke’s need to get out of the house. Normally the house was his safe zone. But the attack had ripped all that away. She wasn’t sure how to recreate a safe zone for him. And kids like Luke needed that. They needed one place that was consistent, a place that they felt no one or nothing could touch them.

  Luke’s humming stopped. Sandra watched him from the corner of her eyes as he stared straight ahead, his lips moving but no sound coming out. She frowned, trying to figure out what he was doing. For a moment she worried that maybe it was the beginning of a seizure. He’d had them when he was younger, but then he seemed to have grown out of them.

  Thank God.

  But maybe the stress of what had happened was somehow going to bring them back on. The doctors she had taken Luke to see had warned her to look out for them. Please, God, not that. We have enough to deal with.

  She kept one eye on Luke and one eye on the road, grateful for the lack of traffic that allowed her to split her attention.

  Luke’s eyes flared even wider. “Turn! Turn! They’re here!” Luke scrambled for the wheel.

  “Luke!” Sandra struggled to keep the car in the road as Luke yanked on the side of the wheel. “Luke, no!”

  Luke backed away, cringing. Sandra pulled off the road onto Kelly Drive. She put the car into park and took her foot off the brake. The car idled as her whole body shook, images of a fiery crash rushing through her mind.

  Luke had never done anything like that before. If she had been going faster or if they had been on a busy road … “Luke, you cannot do that. It’s not safe. It’s not—”

  Luke’s head whipped around. He stared out the back window.

  Sandra turned slowly just as the first car appeared. It was a black SUV. Even in the dark light, she could tell its make. Cars were the one thing she knew well. And she knew it was a Tahoe, just like the government ones that had shown up after the incident. Four more SUVs followed, a quiet parade heading toward her farmhouse.

  Sandra turned slowly to Luke. He met her gaze. “They’re here.”

  She stared at him in shock, frozen in place. Cars like that didn’t just drive around Tribune. She couldn’t risk going back to the farmhouse if it was in fact the government. But she also couldn’t assume that Luke was right.

  She reached across Luke and opened up the glove compartment. She fished around and pulled out the binoculars. She looked at Luke. “Stay here. I’m going to watch them.”

  Luke shook his head. “No.”

  “They won’t see me, but you can. I’ll be right up there.” Sandra pointed to the observation post of the corn maze. It was a wooden structure two stories high in the middle of the field. Years ago, the fields all around them had been full of corn that had been organized into a maze. When you made it to the observation tower, you had successfully completed the maze. The maze was long gone now. The Bradleys, who’d run the maze for sixty years, had gone out of business fi
ve years before. Now the only sign of the maze was the lonely wooden platform.

  “I’ll be right back.” Sandra stepped outside quickly, closing the door to extinguish the light. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone, then took off at a fast jog for the platform and quickly scaled the stairs. She moved to the edge of it, already pulling the binoculars to her eyes. She adjusted the focus, and it took her only a few seconds to find her home.

  The four SUVs were just pulling into her driveway, but if she hadn’t been looking for them she wouldn’t have seen them. Their lights were off.

  She watched as the cars emptied of their occupants, all dressed in black. There were twelve of them, and they spread out, with half covering the back and half the front.

  Her mouth went dry. They were not coming to ask more questions, not at five a.m. They were surrounding the house, making sure she and Luke couldn’t escape. That was not how you treated the victim of crime.

  That was how you treated a suspect.

  With a spark of light, a small object flew through the air from one of the individual’s guns. It cracked through the window of her living room, and then a small flash of light burst from inside.

  Sandra’s mouth fell open. It was a flash bang. For a split second, she imagined what would’ve happened if she’d awoken to one. She’d been around them in the service, and they always disoriented whoever the target was. But for Luke it would have been beyond terror inducing.

  You bastards. She gripped the binoculars more tightly as one of the men gave the signal and all of the individuals burst into the house.

  Rage and fear warred inside of her, but she could not allow either of them to take hold. She hurried back down the stairs and sprinted for the car. She tossed the binoculars onto the back seat and was driving before she’d struggled into her seatbelt.

  “You were right, Luke. The bad men are there.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Sandra flicked him a quick glance and then looked back at the road. She pressed down on the accelerator, knowing she needed to move quickly.

  “Where are we going?” Luke repeated.

  Sandra shook her head, not answering him. Because she didn’t have an answer. She had no idea where they were going to go. She just knew she had to get Luke as far away as possible.

  Chapter Seven

  Seattle, Washington

  “Where are you?” Martin scanned the map in front of him, but it offered no clues. He had been looking for Tilda’s base for decades. Even after he believed her to be dead, he knew her work carried on. He didn’t expect to find it magically this afternoon, but he knew that’s where Tilda had absconded with Subject One and Agaren.

  Over the years, he’d found one or two of their safe houses but never the main base. If he could find it, well, then things would definitely change. But years of searching had resulted in no leads.

  He punched his fist into the desk. God damn Tilda, always wrecking my plans. Where did you take them?

  He looked up as Stacy crossed the hallway out in front of his glass wall. She held up a file. He waved her in. “I take it the Gillibrands are in custody?”

  “No, sir. The farmhouse was empty when we arrived.”

  “Empty?”

  Stacy nodded. “Clothes were still there. But her car was gone, as was her pocketbook. There was a withdrawal from an ATM in town at about the same time the team was at the farmhouse. After that, all electronic traces went dark.”

  She knew. Somehow she’d known they were coming. How? He pictured the being that Luke called Sammy. Was it possible he was somehow responsible for their escape?

  “Were there any unusual aerial sightings?”

  Sandy paused. “No. Should they have been looking for something?”

  “No. This something would have deftly made himself known,” Martin mumbled.

  Stacy spoke quickly. “I have the footage from all the cameras in the area being sent to us. It’s only a matter of time before we find their car.”

  Martin wasn’t so sure about that. Sandra and Luke should’ve been home tucked in their beds. They should have been easy to pick up. The fact that they weren’t meant that they were not the easy targets they appeared to be.

  Of course, if “Sammy” was in the mix, he wasn’t the only one who would be interested in him.

  “There is some good news, however.”

  Martin looked up at Stacy, saying nothing.

  She shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I may have found a source inside Matilda Watson’s operation.”

  Martin’s eyebrows rose. Now that could be worthwhile. “How?”

  Stacy snorted. “A fake Facebook account. But it’s tied to someone named Ethan McCallum.”

  Martin frowned. He’d heard the McCallum name before. This was promising. “Keep at it. Let me know if you find anything more concrete.”

  “Will do.” Stacy quickly left the office.

  Martin turned his gaze back to the map. Where are you, Tilda? He turned his gaze from the map and pulled up the file on Tatiana Brecknoff. He stared at the photo that accompanied the file. Tatiana had been caught lunching at Spago in Beverly Hills. Her head was thrown back in laughter. Sunlight shone off her stunning blonde hair. Her eyes were covered by dark sunglasses.

  Even from the still shot, her confidence and entitlement shone through. She looked like any one of the hundreds of wealthy women that frequented the exclusive restaurant.

  But you’re not like all the others, are you, Tatiana?

  He debated for a few moments more before he picked up the phone and dialed quickly.

  “Yes?” The deep voice that answered was not friendly.

  “This is Martin Drummond. I need to speak with Tatiana.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ballantrae, Scotland

  “I am underwhelmed.” Greg stared with a look of complete disappointment on his face as he looked out the window of the aircraft. They had been traveling for hours. The first leg of the trip had been three hours, followed by a four-hour layover for mechanical repairs in a small, freezing garage in Greenland. The second leg had been six.

  What had kept them going was the promise that they were heading somewhere completely safe. Somewhere well out of Martin’s reach.

  The plane that had taken them to their current location had not inspired confidence. A holdover from the Cold War, it had rattled the entire trip. And it was extremely loud. Maeve wasn’t sure if her hearing would ever return. No one had slept well. The kids because of the noise. The adults because they feared they were about to plunge to the ground when a wing fell off.

  Jasper had bounced out of his seat when they stopped. “Made it!”

  His words earned him a plane full of glares. But Jasper explained the plane was a necessary security precaution and that the next mode of transport would be much more comfortable.

  Maeve glared at him. Her whole body was still vibrating, the same way the plane had for the entire ride.

  “I’d punch him if I could stand,” Greg mumbled from the row behind her.

  “I’d be happy to shoot him if someone would hand me a gun and help me keep my arm straight,” Norah said from next to Greg.

  Chris stood, wincing as he stretched his back. “Let’s save shooting him until we see where we’re heading.”

  “Now can I shoot him?” Norah mumbled ten minutes later as she stood next to Maeve on the shore of some beach.

  “I vote yes,” Greg said.

  Maeve just grunted, not sure what to say. She had to admit she was disappointed as well. Tilda had let drop that she was affiliated with a secondary space program, one that predated NASA. When you heard something like that, there was a certain expectation that came to mind. She had imagined a super sleek aircraft that would take them to the base. Or maybe even an incredibly technologically advanced underwater craft that would help them avoid being seen.

  Instead she was staring at two old fishing boats, and by old she meant old. The paint was flaking of
f. They looked like they were from the turn of the century. The previous century.

  Maeve looked at Tilda. “This is how you get to your ultra-secure base?”

  Tilda nodded. “One of the ways. The McCallum family has been ferrying people to the base for decades. They are highly trusted and our first line of defense.”

  Tilda strode toward the boat that was pulling up to the dock. Adam was already waiting and caught the rope thrown from the back of the boat.

  Greg walked up with Crackle hanging from his shoulders. “So are we sure Tilda isn’t just crazy?”

  Maeve watched the woman who’d managed to gather a small army to help them free Alvie and Agaren from the Dulce base but who now wanted them to believe that two decrepit fishing boats were any form of security for a beyond top-secret base. “Oh, I have no idea.”

  A tall woman with strong cheekbones stepped off of the boat, wearing canvas pants and a peacoat to protect her against the cold. Her wavy red hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked over at Maeve, nodding before flicking a glance at everyone on the shore. Her eyes widened for a moment as she caught sight of the aliens, but then she simply nodded and stepped back on board.

  Tilda waved them all over.

  “Well, we’ve come this far,” Greg muttered.

  And we have no other choice. Maeve turned and called for Alvie, Snap, and Pop, who hurried over. They’d been running around with Chris to vent some energy. Chris, with Grace by his side and Iggy perched on his shoulders, followed them. They all clambered into one boat. The redheaded woman was standing, waiting for them, Tilda by her side.