As soon as Jill and Liz returned to the adjoining kitchen, Gabriella slipped into the room wearing a terrycloth robe and a white towel wrapped around her damp hair.
“Hi, Rance,” she hailed. “What’s up?”
“We’re about to start our meeting,” Rance grumbled, “as soon as you leave. This is for NNC ears only.”
“Oh, really?” She huffed and then stomped toward the exit. “I can take a hint.”
Rance was generally grumpy, but the FBI director wasn’t ever rude to her. She figured his behavior might have something to do with the unknown man seated beside him, but still that wasn’t a valid excuse.
Unless the stranger pressured Rance into making certain Nick, Neo, and Crow were the only meeting participants.
She noticed Nick breathe a sigh of relief as she paused at the hallway door. It was apparent he wanted to avoid a knock-down-drag-out battle between her and Rance before the meeting even began.
“Nick, I’m heading over to my place as soon as I finish drying my hair. Come on over when your meeting’s finished, okay?”
“Will do,” he agreed.
After Gabriella slammed the door, Rance stood. “I don’t have much to say today, so I’ll just turn the meeting over to Jonathon Foster, NSA Director of Bioterrorism.”
Jonathon Foster was Napoleon short and reed thin. His graying carrot hair was worn long and kept falling across his forehead. His dark brown eyes were tiger-sharp, but the rest of his features were nondescript. He could easily pass for Anyman on a covert spy assignment.
Like Neo, Nick immediately disliked the director. So what did NSA’s bioterrorism director want with NNC? The threesome weren’t working on anything connected to bioterrorism. Nick’s reliable gut feeling warned him he wouldn’t like the answer any more than the man.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” He focused his hard gaze at Nick. “It’s come to my attention, Nick, that your investigation into your missing cousin, Noah Wright, is interfering with a NSA classified operation in California—specifically the murders inside operating room #4 at Scripps Memorial Hospital.”
“That ‘patient’ in that room happened to be my cousin, too!” Nick shot back. “Someone is responsible for her homicidal transformation, and I plan on tracking him down.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. We’re taking the reins on that investigation.”
“That’s a load of crap, Foster! You can’t order us off the case.”
Foster disagreed. “The two EMTs who drove Natalie to Scripps Hospital were my undercover agents. The cops you sent to no-man’s land were my people, too. They were only doing their jobs when they searched for the bullet that wounded your cousin. And a member of the murdered surgical team in OR #4 was one of mine, too.”
“First of all, the cops were assholes. As for the others, how was I supposed to know they were NSA?”
Foster bristled at the negative description of his covert cops. “Ignorance isn’t acceptable in our business, Bellamy. I’m here today to officially warn you off the NSA investigation into Final Scream and your cousin, Natalie. Any—and I mean any—interference on your part will result in arresting you and imprisoning you in a federal lockdown facility. To put it in plain English for those of you who don’t get the picture, don’t fuck with us!”
Nick’s face reddened as he fought to contain his violent rising alter ego. Slaying the son-of-a-bitch would only put him behind bars, and he didn’t want to give the powers that be at the NSA the satisfaction.
Foster continued. “Let us do our job, and your family will eventually be united.”
“So you’re telling us Nick’s family problems are linked to an NSA bioterrorism investigation?” Neo demanded, his eyes glowing embers.
“Yeah, I don’t see how they’re associated either,” Crow chimed in.
Annoyed, Foster irritably shifted his stance and grudgingly admitted Natalie Wright’s Wicker condition was one of the links. Crow and Neo were astonished.
Nick was amazed himself. “So Natalie’s the link, huh? Pretty thin connection, Foster.”
“She’s only a small link.”
“So does the NSA have a cure to reverse her disorder?”
“I can’t respond to that question. The answer’s classified.”
“The typical bullshit bureaucratic copout,” Neo muttered.
Foster ignored Neo’s scorn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important matters to attend to back in Washington,” he announced abruptly, his stiff tone saturated with extra starch.
Rance rose, shook hands with Nick, and hurried after Foster, who was already waiting for the elevator to take him topside. Nick briefly opened his fist and peered at the folded note Rance secretly deposited in his hand. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket and joined his two guests.
“We’ll cooperate with the NSA,” Nick said as they boarded the elevator.
“That’s a wise decision, Bellamy,” Foster said as the sliding door obscured them.
Crow rushed up behind Nick. He was incensed at what he overheard. “Are you kidding me, Custer? You’re really going to abandon your search into Natalie and Noah because of that asshole’s threats?”
Nick patted his friend on the shoulder. “Of course not.”
“Then why did you tell him…”
“To ease his mind and hopefully put our surveillance on the back burner.”
Neo met his partners in the hallway. “I don’t think Foster was kidding around about arresting you, Nick. The NSA doesn’t have a sense of humor,” he pointed out.
Nick leaned against the wall. “That’s why I’m going alone this time around. I don’t want you two involved.”
Crow was hurt. “Come again, White Man?”
Neo moved between his partners. “You heard the man, Crow. We’re out.”
“Bullshit!” Crow swore. “That’s not our way, and you know it! We’re all for one, and one for all.”
Neo fist bumped the Indian. “Hell yeah! Since when aren’t our lives in danger during our investigations?” Neo reminded Nick.
“So you see, you can’t leave us out in the cold. We’re in, and that’s final!” Crow asserted.
“Come hell or high water,” Neo added.
Nick slapped his buddies on their backs. “I foresee more hell than high water ahead of us,” he stated lightly.
“What else is new? We’re supernatural investigators, you know?” Neo proclaimed.
The three men ardently shook hands.
18
Reese’s recognizable scream cast a shadow over the enchanting dawn.
Noah’s lone companion was about to be torn apart by a man-monster of epic proportions, but her screams frustrated him. He felt the urgency, but his legs couldn’t move any faster in the boulder maze. When he increased his speed, he nearly stabbed his thighs with the knife as his flailing arms fought to maintain his balance.
When Noah rounded the last boulder, his arms fell limply to his sides as he gasped for breath. He stood inert while he gaped at the towering giant. The creature had to be at least twelve feet tall! The odds of defeating him in hand-to-hand combat were slim and none, Noah thought, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t try.
Noah had never seen anything like the beast. Not even in his worst nightmares. The thing’s general form was humanoid, despite its tremendous height, but that wasn’t what scared him the most. The substance of Reese’s attacker was tightly interwoven green plants and vines with a shell of blooming yellow, red, and purple flowers across its torso. The cruel, spine-chilling face was more an outline than a full featured countenance. The cavernous eye sockets lacked eyes. The nose was devoid of nostrils. And its mouth was simply twin indented lines with no opening. The skull lacked ears, and braided brown palm fronds sprouted from its scalp. Noah unconsciously named him Plantman.
Gripping his hunting knife and praying for the best, he screamed like a banshee as he charged toward Plantman, hoping his shrill noise would scare it away. Bu
t he was sorely disappointed.
Reese pressed herself against the rear of the shallow cave while the giant closely explored her quivering form. When it finally thrust one of its green hands at her, she curled into a fetal ball and broke into heaving sobs.
By the time the green beast was aware of Noah’s presence, it was too late to fend off the attacker. Noah leaped onto its bristly back and repeatedly plunged his knife into the dense vegetation to create handholds to climb the herbal abomination. When Noah reached its shoulders, he sliced Plantman’s viny neck tendrils like a madman, hoping to decapitate the abomination before it shook him off. The timing would be close. Too close.
Noah dodged Plantman’s overextended grasps like a ducking and weaving boxer as the staggered giant struggled to put an end to its misery. Because it lacked a mouth, the walking plant couldn’t scream or wail, but its silent resistance was unnerving.
The knife sliced through half of the giant’s neck when a discharging gun echoed over the beach. The shot came from the top of the cliff. Noah instinctively hid behind the flopping green skull for cover, but the shot wasn’t for him. A blazing flare impaled the giant’s chest and instantly produced a conflagration akin to a brushfire.
Noah slipped down the writhing creature’s back, landed hard on his heels, and fell backwards into the sand. He deftly avoided the giant’s floundering feet and arms as he raced to the cave, grabbed Reese’s hand, and led his unsteady companion into the boulder forest. A bullet ricocheted off the rocks nearby, driving loose stony slivers into Noah’s cheek. He yelled out but kept moving. Now they had a shooter after them, as if the island carnivores weren’t lethal enough.
Plantman danced the jig of death as it beat at the flames with his hands, but the fire continued to spread despite its furious efforts—the huge mesh of vegetation was dying. Noah turned away from it and peered up along the top of the cliff. Was the shooter the same person who fired the flare gun into Plantman? If he was, then why did he save them one minute and try to kill them the next? Like every other near-death experience on Terror Island, Noah was bewildered. Overwhelmed.
As far as Noah knew, everyone except Reese and him were dead. Where did the shooter come from? Was he a survivor, or a new arrival? Noah shrugged. It didn’t matter. A killer was a killer. He decided not to overthink their dismal situation.
He dabbed the blood from his stinging cheek, wishing he had the medical supplies to treat it. Since he didn’t, he was forced to suck it up or look like a whiny pansy to Reese. They were on the move again. He desperately wanted to outrun the cliff sniper, but he realized their best chance of survival was one of the island beasts hearing the gunfire and devouring the shooter.
Otherworldly. The word popped into his frazzled brain out of the blue. As a genetic scientist, Noah determined the majority of animal life populating the island was literally out of this world. Alien. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous to capture and study a few specimens like he would in his Scripps lab. Maybe later … if they reached the Oracle boat and survived … that was a big maybe.
More shots zinged past their bobbing heads as Noah and Reese bounded through the small gaps in the rocks, but none of the bullets found its target. The pair’s constant dodging brought them closer to the water’s edge than they wanted. The breaking waves’ heavy spray drenched them, but regardless of their physical distress, they somehow persevered and kept hiking toward the island’s southern tip. Reese glanced back over her shoulder every so often to make sure they weren’t being followed. Noah ignored their rear flank.
That was a mistake.
Reese looked back again and froze, so Noah turned to see what terrified her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he fumed, his eyes wide with fear. “We can’t catch a frigging break on this damned island!”
The walking torch, Plantman, was in hot pursuit!
“The thing just won’t die!” Reese shouted, stating the obvious.
“C’mon!” Noah grabbed her arm and pulled her even closer to the raging surf. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to come up with a plan to kill it for once and for all. Noah was going to lure Plantman close enough to the ocean breakers, where they would smash the burned out vegetable against the rocks. He smiled for a split second. Perhaps Plantman might add a little fiber to the ravenous mermen and mermaid’s diets.
His fear of the mountaintop sniper was temporarily ignored as he and Reese rushed across and around the wet-slick rocks. Whitecaps battered their flagging bodies, and the backflow threatened to drag them out to sea, but they held fast to boulders as they moved and thwarted the strong currents.
The smoldering giant staggered after them along the ocean breakers and combated the same wave force. Noah and Reese widened their lead on the monster despite their constant struggles, but the chase wasn’t over. Not by a longshot. Even its physical distress and flopping head failed to deter its resolve to kill Reese and Noah.
The pair slowed after hiking another hundred feet and huddled behind a shadowy boulder. There was an open stretch of yellow sand as far as they could see, which meant no more cover from the sniper. He glanced back at the pursuing giant. What choice did they have? Death by sniper, or by Plantman. Dead was dead.
As neither of them was anxious to challenge the burning torch again, they chose to die by bullet. It was a faster way to go. Reese surprised Noah by kissing his lips before springing from the shade and sprinting on the wet sand along the surf line. He recovered from his brief euphoria and chased after her.
When the besieged giant stumbled out of the boulder forest, it tottered wildly before collapsing into a blazing heap. Sable smoke and hot embers spiraled upward before vanishing in the stiff ocean breeze. The chase was over at last.
But they didn’t pause to celebrate. They still had the sniper to contend with.
But their flight from Plantman drained most of their remaining stamina. Their bodies were depleted and badly in need of food and water. Their speeding strides dwindled to staggering gaits until they couldn’t run any further. They collapsed to the warm sand and gasped for air, the only energy source in plentiful supply. The raucous sea gull calls blended with the crashing waves’ endless booms and hisses on the beach, but there was no rifle shot. They were on edge from the prospect of being shot and killed at any moment, but they were so weak, they didn’t care. They rested on the beach for two hours before resuming their trek southward. Neither could explain why the sniper didn’t pick off their prone bodies. Was he toying with them? Or had he left? Only time would tell.
Although they both watched where they were headed, they ran smack dab into an invisible barrier. The shocking impact knocked them backward, bruised their foreheads, and bloodied their noses.
Reese was livid. “Where did that damn thing come from?”
Noah scooted forward on his hands and knees and warily ran his hand over the unseen barrier. It was solid as hell. He crawled along the extraordinary invisible wall toward the ocean to assess its length, but when the surf exploded over him, he was forced to stop and return to Reese.
“I suppose the wall goes into the ocean, right?” she fumed, pinching the bridge of her nose to end the bleeding.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Shit!”
“Hey, don’t give up yet. Maybe we could walk around the end of it at low tide.”
Reese threw her head back against the sand. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry. “And when’s low tide?”
“Uh, probably this evening.”
“When it’s dark and the ocean predators come close to shore to feed? Oh, that’s brilliant!”
He stared out over the sun-drenched water. “When you put it that way, my idea sounds pretty lame.”
A bullet screamed down from the mountaintop and kicked up the sand beside Reese’s left hand. She leaped up.
“It looks like we find the end of the wall now!” she shouted.
“By why now?” Noah muttered to himself.
“Mayb
e your merman buddies are out there waiting for us,” she answered for him.” Reese waved her middle finger at the cliff. She turned to Noah. “You know we’re basically fucked, don’t you?”
As they entered the thundering surf, Noah replied, “Yeah! If that invisible wall doesn’t end soon, we might have to swim to China to hit solid land!”
Reese splashed into the foamy surf and dived through the rolling five foot breaker. She came up sputtering and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m kinda in the mood for some sweet and sour pork, myself,” she responded.
“Make mine shrimp Lo Mein.”
19
Nick and his two NNC partners marched silently down to detention room #2, each lost in his own thoughts. Nick entered the entrance code into the wall keypad and underwent the retinal scan. After a metallic click, the reinforced steel door swung inward an inch. Nick pushed it open so they could file through before he peered into the cage.
Maggie Wentworth was gone!
“Now how could she escape like that?” Neo wondered aloud as he inspected the untouched latch and bars.
Nick ran his fingers along the frame. “You’ve got me. There’s no sign of damage anywhere.”
“If I were you guys, I wouldn’t put your fingers too close to the spaces between the bars,” Crow warned. “She might be invisible now and bite it off.”
Nick jerked his fingers back and glanced up at the security camera fastened to the ceiling. Nodding to himself, he approached a hidden steel wall panel and punched in another code; no retinal scan required. The wall section slid aside, revealing a computer keypad and monitor.
He activated the speaker feature.
“Geronimo, this is Nick,” he announced.
“Good evening, Nick. I’m pleased you arrived safely from your trip to California. To respond to your earlier request, there have been no further communications between Oracle Studios and Terror Island. Also, those California license plates you had us trace turned out to be stolen. The numbers were no help at all,” Geronimo stated. “But I will continue to monitor the Oracle communications satellite for you.”
Final Scream Page 9
