Shatter Point

by Jeff Altabef

  Channeling her inner Tom, she connected the red wire directly to the green one. A nasty shock zapped her finger and a puff of smoke swirled above the wires. She touched the control for the door and nothing happened. She shoved against the door, and it didn’t budge.

  I am a strong woman.

  Her safety was only temporary. All Terry needed to do was shut off the electricity and pry the door open manually. Still, the process would take time, and time was all she wanted—time, and one last chance to confront Cooper.

  Now I need a weapon.

  She had searched the bathroom before, but this time she surveyed the room the way she imagined Tom might. Her eyes lingered on the stainless steel stool. The legs appeared sturdy—sturdy enough to be used as a club.

  I am a strong woman!

  She flipped the stool on its side.

  How would Tom take this apart?

  Steven locked eyes with Vanessa. He had made her a promise, and his days of breaking promises had ended. How am I going to find Doctor Beck?

  Tom caught his brother as he fell, and gently set him on the carpet. “We’ve got to go to the hospital! We need Doctor Beck.”

  Wickersham rolled on the ground at Steven’s feet, still moaning from the aftereffects of his own taser.

  Inspired, Steven grabbed him by the suit jacket, lifted, and yanked the diminutive doctor onto the table with a thud.

  Wickersham screeched.

  Steven leveled his gun at the man’s head and spoke in a cool and calm voice, knowing that made it even more frightening. “Where is Doctor Beck?”

  Wickersham’s eyes twitched and he whimpered. “I don’t know what you’re... talking... about.”

  Steven aimed the nozzle at his forehead and held it steady. “I’ll give you three seconds and then I’m pulling the trigger. One.”

  Wickersham’s eyes locked onto Vanessa.

  “Two.”

  “Don’t shoot! I’ll tell you.”

  Steven pushed the barrel of the handgun hard against his plastic forehead. “Well.”

  “He’s in the cellar with the interrogator. Don’t shoot. We weren’t going to kill him. We were going to let him go. You have to believe me.” Wickersham squirmed and looked at Vanessa. “I’m sorry, Nessa. This wasn’t my idea. He’s not right for you.”

  Steven growled. “How do I find the cellar?”

  “Take the back staircase. There’s a key in my pocket.”

  Steven rummaged through Wickersham’s suit pockets and pulled out an old bronze key. As he examined it, a bell chimed that startled everyone.

  Steven removed the transmission inhibitor from his vest pocket. The device glowed red. “The inhibitor’s been breached. All of the texts and messages they had sent will be released now. We have five minutes at most before others arrive. We’d better move fast.”

  He grabbed a dart pistol from the floor and promptly shot Wickersham, Sanders, George, and Cooper.

  “I’ll retrieve Doctor Beck from the cellar.” He tossed a hand-sized disk to Tom. “That’s a memory eraser. Pull the pin and leave it in the boardroom on your way out. It’ll wipe their memories for the last few hours. Bring Jack and Cooper to the van. I’ll meet you out front in five minutes. If I’m not out in time, leave.”

  Steven nodded at Vanessa, and they bolted from the room to save Darian, if they could save him.

  ***

  Moses pulled the van in front of the industrial building, and let it idle.

  They waited and stared at the lobby in silence. Time crept by.

  “Five minutes since the inhibitor failed,” Mary called out.

  “He’ll be here. We stay,” Moses said.

  “Five minutes thirty-seconds.”

  Moses shook his head and kicked Cooper’s prone body on the floor of the van.

  Aunt Jackie lay next to him. Tom couldn’t leave her behind.

  Tom held Jack’s head in his lap. His eyes met Mary’s. “I should have noticed the signs. He’s been sensitive to noise and light. He’s had these headaches. It was all there for me to see. I should have talked to Doctor Beck myself.”

  She squeezed his shoulder. “Stay positive, Tom. This isn’t your fault. We’ll take him to a doctor.” She checked her watch and frowned. “Six minutes!”

  Tom glanced at Gabriel, who shook his head. “If Moses says he’ll be here, he’ll be here.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The heat in the van became sweltering, and sweat rolled down Tom’s face in rivers as his stomach soured. Time was running out. He had to get to the hospital.

  Suddenly, Steven burst from the lobby with one arm around Darian’s back, while Darian draped his arm over Steven’s right shoulder, shuffling his feet and wearing loose-fitting gray clothes. Steven helped him into the back of the van, raced around to the front, and jumped into the passenger seat.

  The tires screeched as they peeled away from the curb, but a Homeland Security SUV had already pulled onto the street behind them. The van sped away, but the SUV followed and pulled closer, sirens wailing.

  “Nobody look back! Eyes front!” Steven flipped a switch.

  Though looking forward, Tom caught the residue of a flash of blinding white light from the back of the van. It must have blinded the driver of the SUV, which crashed into a truck on the side of the road.

  Moses turned right onto the West Side Highway before another Homeland Security vehicle could spot them. They were in the clear.

  Darian slumped against the side of the van, his hair greasy with sweat. He winced as he moved, but his eyes locked on Jack. “What happened?”

  “He fainted,” Tom said.

  “Tell me everything. I was worried this would happen.”

  “You’re bleeding, Doctor Beck. Look at your shirt!” Mary pointed to a stain on the collar.

  Darian grinned. “That’s not my blood.”

  Terry stomped back to his small room across the hall. Angry, blotchy red islands formed on his cheeks and chin where the tea had burned him. He splashed water on his face, but the red spots persisted.

  He pounded the pedestal sink. “That bitch!” He always ended up hating the Maggies after a time, but he despised this Maggie more than any of the others.

  “Look at these blisters!” He kicked the trashcan and sent if flying into his bedroom.

  He opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed a bottle of potent pain suppressors, and swiped everything else onto the floor. With trembling fingers he popped open the bottle, removed five pills, and dropped two to the floor. He placed the remaining three on a plate and crushed them to powder with the flat side of a knife.

  He had never taken more than two before, but the burns felt like a hot coil pressed against his flesh. He lined the powder into four long thin lines and snorted them, letting his bloodstream immediately absorb the narcotic.

  Feeling instantly better, he wondered what he should do about Maggie.

  She has to pay for this, but if I kill her, Cooper will fly into a rage.

  Cooper killed all the previous Maggies, but Terry so wanted to kill this one. He paced his small room.

  Maybe I could make it appear like a suicide.

  “That won’t work,” he muttered to himself.

  Cooper would still be angry. Terry was responsible to make sure the Maggies stayed unharmed until Cooper killed them. He suspected the last butler had failed at this part of his job and was never seen again. He would have to be smarter.

  He continued pacing, each footstep angrier than the last. Visions of his hands around Maggie’s throat so enraptured him he almost didn’t hear the sound of an incoming text. Almost, but the ping was loud and had the distinctive ring tone he selected only for Cooper’s messages.

  He glanced at his phone. It displayed a one-word message—Yorktown.

  He had no idea what Yorktown referred to, but he knew the codeword meant something had gone awry. He needed to dispose of the current Maggie, clean up, and leave the hospital immediately.

  He stared a
t the message for a few moments, and had a hard time believing his good fortune. He shook his head and stared at the phone again. The message remained. He splashed more water on his face and took a deep breath. The message didn’t change.

  A smile bloomed across his face. What a gift. He felt like a child on Christmas Day.

  “I can kill her. I can kill her,” he sang to himself as he reached for his baton and practically skipped from his room.

  He didn’t bother to alert the armed guard that there might be trouble. This was all his.

  Steven clutched his phone a little too tightly. “We’ve had some difficulties at the meeting, Mr. Sheppard. The vice president is really the Cooper we need. His chief of staff is dead.”

  “That changes everything. What did you do with the vice president?”

  “His mind has shattered, Mr. Sheppard. He’s in the van, but he’s gone. We’ve got a lead on Maggie’s location. Tom and I need access to the Premium Wing of the Psychiatric Ward at the New York Hospital. Maggie is being held there. We don’t have much time.”

  Moses sped the van up the West Side Highway, swerved around a slow moving coupe, and squealed the tires as he darted around a bus. The van lifted onto two tires but bounced back to all four a second later.

  “Also, Jack’s unconscious. He’ll need to be admitted in the main hospital under Doctor Beck’s care.”

  “I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  Gabriel interrupted from the back of the van. “I want to join you guys. I could come in handy.”

  “I’m sure you would, Gabriel, but Homeland is looking for you,” Steven said. “It’s too risky. You need to stay in the van with Moses and keep an eye on Cooper. Mary and Doctor Beck will take Jack into the hospital and admit him.”

  Gabriel stomped Cooper in the side.

  Steven shot him a sharp glare. “Don’t kill him. We can deal with him later.”

  Moses swung the van off the West Side Highway at the 79th Street exit, and slowed the vehicle at the Homeland Security checkpoint.

  Two armed agents patrolled the heavy metal barrier. Steven handed them his citizen’s identification card, which gave him access to the more affluent areas of the city.

  They nodded and the gate rose.

  Sheppard called back. “I added Jack to the Sheppard insurance plan. He already has a private room. The hospital will admit him. That’s the easier situation.... The news isn’t as good about the Premium Wing. Access is only granted to patients and approved visitors.

  “A Jessica Woodson is staying on the ward. My technology guy changed the information on your card. It shows that you’re Michael Woodson’s bodyguard. Michael is Jessica’s brother and an approved visitor. I don’t know anything else about Jessica. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to change Tom’s information. You’ll have to say he’s Jessica’s brother and bluff your way in. That’s the best we could do in so little time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sheppard. It will do.”

  ***

  Tom and Steven took the elevator to the Premium Wing.

  The door swished open and Steven strode up to an armed security officer, who sat behind a half-circle mahogany desk in front of double doors leading to the ward. “Mister Woodson is here to visit his sister.” He handed the guard his citizen card.

  Tom stood a step behind him, looking uncomfortable in a lightweight gray gingham sport jacket, white shirt, and blue slacks—all clothes from the storage bin in the van. He tried to appear annoyed and tapped his foot.

  The guard swiped Steven’s ID. “Can I have Mr. Woodson’s card, please?”

  Steven leaned toward the guard. “I was supposed to bring the card, but I forgot.” He noticed a tattoo on the guard’s left forearm of two crossed rifles forming an X.

  “Is there a problem, Steven?” Tom asked, his tone frigid. “I don’t have all night. The benefit is in an hour.”

  Steven glanced back at him. “No problems, Mr. Woodson. The card reader is just a little slow.”

  Steven leaned closer to the guard and whispered, “If he finds out I forgot his card, he’ll fire me. Last week, the car wasn’t properly washed and he docked me a week’s pay. I really can’t afford to get canned. This is my first job since I left the Army. Give me a break.”

  The guard pointed to his tattoo. “I was a grunt myself. What division did you serve in?”

  “The 36th Infantry Division out of Texas,” he lied.

  The guard smiled, glanced at Tom over Steven’s shoulder and nodded. “He looks like a real ass. I hate the young ones. He’s probably never worked a day in his life.” He shifted his eyes across the empty hallway. “It’s late, so no one’s around. I’ll let you in this once because you’re a grunt, but don’t forget again.”

  “Thanks.”

  The guard waved them in.

  They entered the main hallway. Alternating white and black one-foot-square marble tiles covered the floor, soft yellow paint covered the walls, and hunter green doors with heavy glass windows led to private suites.

  No other guests walked the hallway, but a handful of orderlies dressed in white roamed the corridor. A muffled scream escaped from behind one of the doors.

  Tom’s body tensed and with each step, his pace quickened.

  “Stay in control,” Steven whispered.

  Tom slowed, but his left eye started to twitch.

  ***

  Terry swept into the suite of rooms floating on a drug-induced euphoric cloud. Every nerve in his body burned. Finally, he felt complete. Finally, he could kill a Maggie.

  “Where are you?”

  He smiled and skipped toward the closed bathroom door.

  “Come out and play, Maggie.” He chuckled despite his best intentions. “I’m sorry I got so angry. I have a present for you. You can’t hide from me.”

  The baton felt good and firm and dangerous as he slapped it against his palm.

  “I guess I’ll have to come in after you.”

  He felt light and airy, and a soft buzzing sound filled his head. He touched the control on the bathroom door but nothing happened, and the buzzing intensified. He stared at the control for a moment, uncertain what had happened, and pressed the pad again. Still nothing. The buzzing grew louder.

  “What did you do to the door, you miserable witch?”

  He threw his shoulder against the wood. It creaked but held, and the buzzing cascaded a waterfall. This time, he took a running start and leaped into the door shoulder first. It bent but didn’t give way.

  “I’m going to make you pay for this!”

  Somewhere underneath the roar of the waterfall, he remembered that the door rolled into a pocket in the wall. He grabbed the side of the door and pulled, his fingernails digging into the wood as he tried to roll it, but it stayed planted. Niagara Falls crashed inside his head.

  He stepped back. “I’m going to take my time with you!”

  He breathed heavily and swayed with an uncontrollable urge to hit something—anything! He pummeled the door with a series of karate-style front kicks. He had no formal training but had spent many hours on the virtual simulator.

  The wood cracked under the blows. He reared back and launched an eighth front kick, and the wood splintered, leaving the door shredded. He swung the baton at the gaping hole until it expanded enough for him to fit through. He smashed his hand against the sharp edges and blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn’t feel any pain. He only felt a carnal frenzy, wanting nothing but to kill Maggie, to strangle her and cry tears of joy.

  He shouldered his way into the bathroom and.... It was empty. He stared at the air vent leading to the ceiling, which had been pried open.

  “What the heck?” The vent was too small for anyone to fit into it.

  ***

  He didn’t notice Maggie slide up behind him.

  She swung the leg of the stool like a Louisville Slugger, and the blow connected with a thud against his ribs. She could swear she heard bones broke, but Terry barely flinche
d as he yanked the metal leg from her hand. A sick smile spread across his lips, and she tried to turn and run, but he grabbed her hair and threw her through the jagged opening in the door.

  She fell forward into the suite and tumbled onto her side.

  A moment later he stood over her, straddling her with the baton in his hand. Blood dripped from his knuckles and his face flushed red. Sweat dripped from his forehead and an otherworldly glow lit his eyes.

  “This is going to hurt,” he said.

  Tom summoned all his willpower, fought against the panic, and slowed his pace. He scanned the hallway as he looked for signs of his mother.

  Steven strode beside him, his gait smooth and unhurried and his demeanor calm and measured. He whispered, “Maggie will be held in a more secure part of the ward. Cooper would never risk holding her with the rest of the other premium patients.”

  Tom tried hard to rein in his imagination. His mother shouldn’t be in a place like this. Horrible images flashed through his mind and made him shake. He glanced behind one of the green doors, and a young woman in a blue patient gown stared back at him, her mouth agape. Her hair had been shaved off, and her eyes blazed hot-black onyx behind her ash-white complexion. His heart clogged his throat.

  His family had always been small, yet his mother filled it with enough love for one twice the size. When his father died, she could have retreated, turned away from the unfairness of his death, but she never did. She glued them together. Now, he had to save her. He was her last chance.

  When they reached the turning point of the L-shaped ward, Tom noticed heavy steel double doors at the end of the hallway. A hulking security guard, pistol holstered at his side and electrified baton held in his hand, sat on a stool and blocked the path. A private elevator stood shiny and unused to the guard’s right.

  “Maggie will be behind those doors,” Steven whispered. “We’ll need to shove the guard’s hand into that DNA reader to open the gates.” A black plastic device resembling the outline of a hand was affixed to the wall next to the guard. “He’ll have to be alive for us to use the reader. It measures pulse and DNA.”