By the time Eugene, Ford, and Janson arrived, the home was abandoned. At least three vehicles had come and gone while the team was en route, so it was possible Woodfall had departed on an errand and would return soon. They decided to wait in an overwatch position—discreetly hidden, but close enough to move on foot when Lukas arrived.
Ford stifled another chuckle, and Eugene clenched his teeth. Normally, Eugene was the one toeing the line between good humor and immaturity. But he took surveillance seriously, especially when the stakes were high. Propping himself on one elbow, he leaned back to look over his shoulder. “Shut. Up.”
Janson nodded and drew an “X” over her heart.
Ford tilted his head back and stared up at the pine branches overhead. “Relax, Carver. No one will be able to hear us. Just tell us when the target arrives…” He snapped his fingers. “And we’ll roll him up like that.”
Eugene brought his eye back to the scope. “I’m not worried about being heard. The sound of you two flirting just makes me nauseous.”
Janson threw a pebble, and it hit Eugene’s right earlobe.
He ignored the stinging sensation and muttered to himself, “Unbelievable.” Still, he had to admit the changes in his teammates weren’t all bad. Before Siberia, they both lived for their work and nothing else. They were products of the Alpha experiments—human trials conducted by DARPA to improve physical performance—and the U.S. government used their unique abilities as often as possible, sending them on dangerous and violent black-ops missions. Though stoic in her own way, Janson coped with the lifestyle better than Ford, who rarely spoke a word if it wasn’t pertinent to an operation. Eugene had met potatoes with more personality than him.
But something had changed. Ford had found a reason to live. He had found Janson.
The operatives had lived and trained together for months in Hillcrest, maintaining a strictly professional relationship. But Siberia changed them. The gunfire, explosions, sweat, and blood made them realize how much they would grieve without the other. Their old boss had forbidden workplace relationships, but that wasn’t the case with Santiago Torres. He claimed their devotion and affection would embolden them on the battlefield and comfort them in the aftermath.
The whole thing was so sweet, Eugene thought he might get diabetes from thinking about it. He tried to shut out the sounds of his teammates and began playing mental games he’d learned in sniper school. He counted the trees around the intersection, noting their positions relative to each other. Then he estimated the distance to the larger trees and used the laser rangefinder embedded in the scope to see how close he was. He mapped out the area in precise detail, memorizing the distances between rocks, ditches, street signs, and potholes. After ten minutes, he gave himself a break, then started again.
He was halfway through cataloging all the wildlife in the area when Janson tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Something’s coming.”
Eugene shifted his attention southward. Ten seconds later, a rusty Plymouth minivan turned the corner onto the dirt road. He followed its progress all the way to the house, then held his breath when the passengers stepped out.
A jolt of electricity ran up and down the length of his body. Lukas Woodfall rounded the front of the van, his face partially obscured by the brim of a fisherman hat. His movements were twitchy and robotic; he was trying to look natural, but the conscious effort had the opposite effect. A woman closed the driver’s side door and moved in behind him, placing her palm on his back. There was nothing unusual or suspicious about her. She seemed completely at ease, walking with a confident gait and twirling the keychain on her finger. Her hair was blond with dark roots showing through, and she wore it in a ponytail. Her face, body shape, and mannerisms didn’t fit anyone on the list of targets.
But Eugene knew it was her. Audrey Stokes.
“Get ready to move,” Eugene whispered. “I have eyes on Woodfall and a woman. Possibly Stokes.”
Ford clicked a button hidden in his jacket, keying up a Satcom radio. “Raven Base, this is Raven Three. The package has arrived and we are moving to intercept.”
The reply came through tiny speakers tucked into their ears. “Raven Three, Raven Base. Please hold your position.”
Eugene locked eyes with Ford, and the big man shrugged.
“Raven Base, this is Raven One,” Eugene murmured into his mic. “We might have two HVT’s in there. We need to move now.”
“Negative, Raven One. You’ve been retasked. Move to HLZ Bravo for extraction.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Janson said.
Eugene thought for a moment, then hit the button again. “Copy that, Base, we’ll move to HLZ Bravo after we secure the package.” He was about to remove his earpieces when another voice came through.
“Mr. Carver, this is Director Buchanan.”
The team froze. After several seconds, Eugene shook his head and keyed up his radio. “It’s a pleasure, sir, but we don’t have time for this. I’ll check in after we finish our objective.”
“We have a greater need for you elsewhere, Mr. Carver. Please, do what you are told. I’m sending Morgantown PD to handle Woodfall.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir. Woodfall might have Stokes with him. We need to roll them up as soon as possible.”
Buchanan’s tone left no room for argument. “Proceed directly to HLZ Bravo, or I’ll have your resignation paperwork waiting on your desk.”
Eugene smirked. He didn’t even have a desk.
“Gene, we need to go,” Janson said. “It pisses me off, too, but they wouldn’t call us in if it wasn’t important.”
Eugene sighed, then keyed up his radio. “Proceeding to HLZ Bravo, as directed.”
29
Denver, Colorado
The razor glided along Cameron’s skin. He lowered his head to inspect his progress, then cut another swath along his scalp. The stubble was short—less than two days of growth, but he shaved it anyway, carving out a barely-visible Mohawk. His arms ached and his hands shook from his time in the punishment room, but he managed to finish styling himself without cutting his skin. He let the water warm up for a few seconds, then splashed it onto his face and head. After wiping away the remaining shaving cream, he twisted the faucet shut and stared into the mirror.
The face looking back at him looked much older than it should. Gazing into his own eyes, he saw nothing but emptiness. The loss of his mother and the only home he had ever known left him feeling hollow. But to Cameron, hollow was good. It was better than searing pain and guilt. Though he had always craved a mother’s love, he felt no grief when he learned she was gone—only remorse. He wished he had been born to a different woman, or perhaps never born at all.
But he had no say in who his parents were. Whether he liked it or not, he was alive. And for the first time in his life, he was free.
Eric and the black creature had saved him. Not his body or his mind, for he was accustomed to torture and verbal abuse; they had spared his soul. He had made it to his fifteenth birthday without the Apotheosis.
As he flicked off the bathroom light and returned to the luxury suite Mr. Ward had provided, he glanced at the eleven-year-old girl sitting in front of the television. Whenever he saw her in the past, he felt so nauseous he thought he would throw up. He couldn’t bear to look at the girl he was destined to deflower. But all that had changed. Now, he saw Esther Hunter for who she really was—an innocent, damaged child, just like him. More than that, she was the source of his salvation. If it wasn’t for her and the concern of her aunt, then Eric and Kayla Larson never would have come to Holy Mountain. And now, Agatha Hunter was helping to watch over Cameron and his sisters in the luxurious hotel suite.
Sinking into a queen-sized bed, he exhaled and stared at the ceiling. He wished he could forget about Holy Mountain—about the nurses, the guards, the Punishment Room, Wisdom, and even his mother. He wanted to close his eyes and never wake up. But such thoughts were selfish. His sisters
, Madelyn and Cindy, needed him more than ever. Especially Cindy—she was too young to understand her mother’s treachery and would mourn when she discovered what had happened. His older siblings were grown with families of their own, and they had fled with the rest of the Adherents. Madelyn and Cindy were his responsibility, now, and he owed it to them to keep moving forward, to fight back the tears and act like a man.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, his insides twisting into knots. He had never had a real childhood. His mother was a deluded witch, and he never knew his father. The way the rituals were, his father could have been any one of at least a dozen Adherents. On the surface, Cameron wanted nothing to do with parental figures, but deep down, he wanted to be loved and cared for, if only to know what it felt like.
A woman’s hand touched his shoulder, and he instinctively curled inward.
“I’m sorry.” It was Agatha Hunter’s voice. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I made some soup. Are you hungry?”
Cameron shook his head.
“Are you sure? Your sisters tell me it’s the best soup they ever had.”
“C’mon, Cameron,” Cindy shouted from across the room. “It’s yummy, I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, Cameron rolled over and stood. He crossed the room, taking the seat next to Cindy. As he ladled the creamy fare into a bowl, his sister dropped a fistful of orange crackers on the table.
“I put cheesy fish in mine. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Thank you,” Cameron said, forcing a smile. “Maybe just a couple.”
The soup was delicious, and he quickly cleared his bowl. As he grabbed the ladle for a second portion, he glanced at the lone adult in the room and said, “Miss Agatha, do you think we can go visit Eric in the hospital today?”
The gray-haired woman smiled sympathetically. “I would love to, Cameron, but Mr. Larson has another surgery scheduled for this afternoon, and he will need to rest. I’ll call tomorrow, and if he’s feeling better, we’ll go see him.”
Cindy swung her feet back and forth beneath her seat. She glanced at Agatha, then at Cameron. “What do you want to do after lunch?”
“I, uh, think I might take a nap.”
Cindy frowned. “But you’ve been sleeping all day! We should go swimming.”
Cameron fidgeted. For some reason, splashing around in an indoor pool felt wrong.
Madelyn watched him from across the table. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and said, “I’ll take you, Cindy. And afterward, we can watch cartoons with Esther.”
Cindy tilted her head all the way back and shouted, “This is the best vacation ever!” She slammed her spoon down and jumped out of her seat, then sprinted across the room and tore into her duffel bag. “I’ll go get changed.”
Cameron mouthed the words, “thank you” to Madelyn, then began swirling the soup in his bowl. His appetite was gone, so he set his spoon aside and returned to bed. He didn’t expect to fall asleep, but as his food settled, he slowly drifted away.
Some time later—he couldn’t be sure how long—he awoke to the sound of Cindy screaming.
“Mr. Thomas, look what Maddie got for me!”
Thomas Ward knelt in front of Cindy, taking a brown teddy bear from her and holding it in his arms like a baby. “You don’t say? Where did she get it?”
“At the gift shop. They have lots of bears, but this one is my favorite. Her name is Boopsie.”
“Boopsie Bear.” Ward chuckled. He eased the stuffed animal back into her arms. “I love it. Do you mind fetching your sister? I brought a present of my own.”
“Really? Who’s it for?”
“For all of you. Go on, now, I want it to be a surprise.”
Cameron watched the exchange through half-closed eyes. He considered pretending to be asleep, but his curiosity wouldn’t allow it. Getting to his feet, he extended a hand to greet his family’s benefactor. “Welcome back, Mr. Ward. Have you heard how Eric is doing?”
Thomas gave a warm smile. “Eric is doing just fine. His doctors expect him to make a full recovery, though he’ll have a few more battle scars.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.”
“I know you are, son.” Ward tousled his hair. Then, standing, he glanced at Agatha Hunter. “Do you mind taking Esther into the next room? I have a special present that’s just for the Rollins clan.”
“Of course.” The woman nodded, placed a gentle hand on Esther’s shoulder, and led the girl into the adjacent bedroom.
Ward clapped his hands together, then he took a step back and pulled the front door open. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. Cameron, Madelyn, Cindy, meet Joseph and Naomi.”
A tall woman with olive skin strode in, holding hands with a man with rosy cheeks and a generous belly.
The woman bent over and studied them. Her eyes glistened with tears. “My…aren’t you beautiful.”
“They certainly are,” Joseph said. He knelt in front of Cindy and beckoned for Cameron and Madelyn to come closer. “It’s nice to meet you, children. My name is Joseph, and this is my wife. We’re…”
Naomi squeezed his hand to give him courage.
“We’re, uh…” He paused for a moment. “I’m your uncle, and she is your aunt.”
Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Uncle?”
“That’s right. I’m your mother’s brother.” He pointed at Cameron’s chest, then at his own. “Your grandparents are my mother and father.”
Cindy’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t know I had an aunt and uncle!”
“You have several, actually,” Joseph said. “Most of us live in New York, and we’ve been waiting to meet you for a very long time. This might seem…sudden, but would you kids like to come to stay with us for a while?”
Madelyn turned to her brother for input, but Cameron looked away. His throat felt tight, his eyes hot.
Thomas skirted past the group and sat on the end of the bed. He leaned closer to Cameron and whispered, “I would never let anything happen to you, Cam. Not again. I did my homework before I contacted them. I did background checks, asked for references…I even interviewed their kids. They are good people. And they will love you like their own.”
Cameron took sharp, shallow breaths. He wanted to take his sisters and run, hide them from the cold, dark world. But a crack appeared in his walls of distrust, and a glimmer of hope shone through. Turning slowly, he looked into Joseph’s eyes and said, “I’d like that.”
Naomi and Joseph swept their nieces and nephew into a warm hug. The physical contact made Cameron’s heart pound with anxiety, but he didn’t resist. The longing—a congenital need for love—overcame him. He buried his face in Joseph’s chest and began to cry.
Ward stepped into the hallway, giving space to the family in the suite. He put a fist against his mouth and bit down on his knuckles, fighting to maintain control of his emotions. A war raged within him; guilt for the people Jarrod had killed struggled against a growing sense of vindication. Justice had been done; but did the ends justify the means?
Inside the room, Naomi laughed. It was a genuine laugh, tinged with sadness. The woman knew what these children had been through, how they had never truly known a mother’s love. And she wanted to give it to them. Joseph’s voice also bore a mixture of joy and anguish. Joy, because he finally had the chance to rescue his flesh and blood from the pits of hell; anguish, because he had not done it sooner.
Ward set his jaw. Suddenly, the path before him was perfectly clear. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. It was an outdated model, but it was prepaid and made crystal-clear calls. He punched in a number with his thumb, then held the phone to his ear. After three rings, the line opened.
“Yes?”
Ward took a deep breath. “I—I wish things could be different. For the world, I mean. I’ve had some time to think and…I want to help you.”
30
Hillcrest Trauma and Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, Maryland
“With all due respect, sir, you’re either an idiot, or you’ve been smoking crack.”
San rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. He didn’t expect Eugene to take the news well, but he wasn’t expecting outright mutiny, either. He offered a silent prayer on Eugene’s behalf and waited for Buchanan to explode. To his surprise, the DNI kept his cool.
“I understand this isn’t easy for you, Mr. Carver. You’ve known Four-Seven-Charlie since the beginning, and I read about the role you played in his training. It seems you were an exceptional teacher and a voice of reason to those in charge of his transformation. If Doctor Wagner and I had listened to you in the first place, we probably wouldn’t be having this discussion.
“But as much as I’d like to, I can’t change the past. And you know as well as anyone what he is capable of. He executed thirty thousand people, and we can only hope they all deserved it. He’s a malfunctioning weapon system, and he needs to be brought in for repairs.”
Eugene leaned forward. “He’s a human being. But I agree—he needs professional help to undo what you and the men working for you did to him. What I don’t agree with is how you plan to do it. Jarrod will listen to reason, but there’s no way to reason with him when you have a gun pointed at his head. His instincts for self-preservation run deeper than you know. If we try to bring him in by force, someone is going to die, and it won’t be him.”
“Which is exactly why I want you to lead the mission,” Buchanan fired back. “He knows you and he trusts you. The weapons are only a precaution.”
“And what if he doesn’t listen to me? What if he finds out you are trying to put him in a cage, and he slips away? Are you ready to deal with the consequences?”
Buchanan kept his voice level, reasonable. “The world isn’t what it was three months ago. The global economy is on its deathbed. Faith in the U.S. government is at an all-time low; the last thing we need is for our citizens to find out that the monster in their closet was born in one of our own labs. But Four-Seven-Charlie can still serve his intended purpose. Poverty and starvation are giving rise to new terrorist organizations every day, and we can use him to fight back. I don’t want him in a cage. I want him on a leash.”
Summon the Nightmare Page 17
