DREAM ON (Mark Appleton #2)

by Patterson, Aaron

  Kirk had been alone most of his life. Even when he was married, he was alone. He never did know how to communicate very well. He would get buried in his work, and before he knew it he woke up one day, divorced and living in a dumpy apartment, eating pizza for breakfast.

  Taras could be far away, or maybe just a few blocks down the road. For all they knew he could be in the WJA building at this very moment.

  Kirk walked down the dim hallway toward Solomon’s office. No one was attending the front desk, and Solomon’s office was open. Like a tomb, it had a cold feel to it as he entered. He looked around before beginning to go through the desk drawers looking for anything that might help them in their search for the new world terrorist.

  Isis was going through files and computer hard drives throughout the complex. The satellites proved worthless. The one they used to track targets wasn’t responding. Kirk knew that Taras was responsible.

  Solomon had kept everything in a place. The towering dark bookcases held thousands of books from tomes about ancient Rome to the most current political novel by Vince Flynn. Kirk ran his fingers over the backs of the books, hoping to feel something as he touched them. Some kind of answer. But all he felt was a wave of hopelessness and something else—fear. The feeling had come over him just in the last few days when he looked into the eyes of the people around him. His favorite coffee shop was closing tomorrow, and just about every other business was, too, as people went home to hide and watch the news coverage of the crisis. The country was being held hostage. The spirit had been sucked out of everyone as they watched and waited for the next attack.

  Kirk stopped and looked at the one book that didn’t seem to fit in with the others. The title was Kreios. It looked handmade, and the cover was thick leather. Kirk pulled it from the shelf and opened it to the first page. It had no author listed, and the pages were blank. Something was off about the large book. The pages seemed to shine and had a weird quality to them, as if they were hiding something that he just couldn’t quite see. He turned each page and then turned the book over to stare at the back. Nothing but white stared back at him.

  What did it mean? Why make a book without anything in it? The back cover had an inscription in tiny print. Kirk walked over to the light on the desk and leaned in to read. “B.C. 2700.” The words seemed to fade in and out as he read them. Kirk sank into the large high-back chair and set the book down on the desk.

  The sound of footsteps on the stone floor made him look up. Isis burst into the room breathing hard. “What’s going on?” Kirk jumped up when he saw her.

  “It’s Mark. He’s alive!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  TARAS LOOKED OUT OVER the city with a whole new sense of enlightenment, a feeling of raw power flowing through his body. He imagined going to the funeral services of the great Solomon. He would wear a disguise, and even walk up to look at the casket. He knew no body lay inside; it was rotting next to his beloved sister. Just the thought of it made him smile.

  He felt his wife’s warm embrace as she slid her arms around his shoulders and let out a sigh. “Good morning, my love. I dreamed of you and me on the beach just enjoying each other’s company, doing nothing at all.”

  “You might find yourself closer to that dream than you think, my sweet.”

  She moaned and hugged him. “Oh, don’t tease me. You know I don’t like it. You’re never doing nothing. There’s always something going on with you.”

  “I never tease. I will have you on a beach in the South Pacific by the end of the week. You do realize it is our anniversary next month.” He knew she never forgot an anniversary or a birthday. Taras kept a calendar of all the important events on his Blackberry, so it reminded him a good two weeks in advance. He was a romantic at heart, though his idea of romance might be slightly different than anyone he knew.

  She squealed with delight, ran around the bed, placed herself on his lap, and kissed his neck. He could see her smooth neckline and thought of how easy it would be to snap it—she’d be dead in two seconds, maybe less. Or he could toss her off the balcony and watch her fall to her death. That would take longer.

  “Baby, you spoil me, you remembered!”

  “How could I forget?” Kill her!

  His head ached, and the thing living in the back of his mind growled and stood up as if to step forward and take control. The passenger had left him alone for a day or so, but now it was back and demanding more than he thought he could give. She will get in the way. You need to be free from this hag. Kill her now!

  Shaking his head, he took her head in his and looked deep into her sweet, brown eyes. She had a soul and he could see the spark of life swimming inside her eyes just waiting to be set free. She looked back at him, lost in the dark secret of his black eyes.

  He could feel his mind going. It was bending, and each fiber of his will and control was slipping and breaking like a twig.

  “I love you so much. Please stay just the way you are right now, at this very second,” He said. Taras could feel his face flush red from the battle going on in his mind. A tear came to his wife’s eyes as she thought that his emotion was because he was so in love with her.

  Taras knew he was two, maybe three people in one. The Red Dog was a part of all of his entities, and their memories blended together, making one terrible life filled with all the evil of many killers. He wanted freedom from the nightmares and the lust to kill, but his desire to do otherwise was much stronger.

  “Oh, Taras. I will always love you. What would I do without you?” She closed her eyes and placed the softest, gentlest kiss on his lips that he had ever felt. The spark for one brief moment passed to him and it rushed to his heart. Then he knew what he had to do.

  He had to kill his wife just like he had killed his only daughter. No one got to the Red Dog. No one!

  * * *

  I KISSED K AND held onto her like I was drowning and she was the lifeline. She had to know what I did, who I was, and why, one day, I might not come home from work. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  The time I’d spent in my own grave had brought a new light into my world. Life is a vapor. It flashes, then it’s gone. It’s like a wave as it comes in from the ocean. It rises into the air like a giant filled with power and wonder, then crashes to the shore only to disappear into nothingness. Each wave is another day. Some are great, with the birds singing, and the next brings a dark cloud with rain and thunder. They are gone all too soon, and if another one comes, you are blessed.

  I had no guarantee of another day to see Samantha running down the stairs and sliding on her socks with a huge smile on her face. No guarantee of more soft touches or sideways glances at K, to see if she had noticed that I was hopelessly in love with her.

  I’d been gone over a week, and K knew sometimes that’s just the way it was. But I’d been gone for one of the scariest times possible, and I don’t know if she could forgive me.

  I’d had Travis drop me off at a safe house. I wrote down his license plate, so I could track him down later and fully reimburse him for his trouble. Maybe he could get a new truck.

  The in-house doctor had cleaned up my wounds and given me some stitches. I washed up and put on a fresh shirt and clean blue jeans. Besides the few pounds I’d dropped, I supposed I looked normal enough. My ribs were sore and the other wounds were healing up fast enough, faster than they should have.

  But K knew. She knew by the state of my body, and my reaction when I saw her, that something terrible had happened to me. She’d quickly dropped Sam at Grandma’s house, and we had a few hours alone. My heart was bursting with love, fear, and hope that after I told her everything…about my childhood, about my freakish glimpses, even about my miraculous escape…that she would still love me. She could see the battle going on behind my eyes and scooted closer on the sofa and took my hand in hers. “One of those weeks, huh?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. K, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you something…” I trailed off.r />
  Her eyes softened. It gave me peace. I took her hand in mine.

  “Let me start from the beginning.”

  The next two hours we sat glued to the couch, as I opened my world to K like I’d never done before. My fears of rejection and the disdain I thought she might feel towards me disappeared as she empathized and truly tried to understand me. I went back to when I was a baby, and Solomon took me in, and I began the program. I told her how my brain had been injected with dreams and thoughts, training me in everything from how to use weapons, to hand-to-hand combat. The machine he created was used as I slept—from when I was one year to four years old. The things that were implanted in my subconscious would be forgotten, and at the age of twelve, I was adopted by my parents.

  I told her about the mission and about the WJA and how they were on a path to bring the country back to a place of peace by righting the wrongs that have gone unpunished for far too long. I told her about my glimpses, and how I could get brief looks into the future, but was still trying to learn how to control it. She smiled in relief, as it explained some weird behaviors that had bothered her in the past.

  Then I brought her up to date with me on my last mission, and when I got to the part where I escaped, we both could not believe it. I was beginning to wonder if it was my imagination, or the fact that I was just about out of my mind and about to die. Maybe Travis had had a digger or some machinery that had made that sound, and dug the hole. However, no matter how I got out, I was here sitting in my own living room with my wife, and the casket lay empty.

  * * *

  AN ENVELOPE WITH A wax seal made its way to the desk of Yang Hu Chin. It was a cool morning in the People’s Republic of China. The president took a sip of black tea before he excused the servant.

  He broke the seal and took out a handwritten note. The president read the contents over a few times to make sure he was reading it right. He had dreamed of this day. The simple note held weight that made the president pick up the phone and call for an emergency meeting.

  Taking the note in his hands again, he smiled and took off his glasses. He always had a feeling something wonderful would happen to the country during his lifetime, but this would leave his name on the lips of the people for many centuries to come.

  Time to wake the sleeping Bear!

  * * *

  THE SAME NOTE, BUT written on plain white paper and stuffed into an envelope, made its way to the desk of the president of Russia. Before he had time to finish reading it, he got a buzzer in his ear from his secretary.

  “Yang Hu Chin is on the line for you, sir.”

  “Put him through.”

  * * *

  A PICTURE OF TARAS Karjanski from two years prior was broadcast on every television across the country. A massive manhunt was underway.

  The president was days away from declaring martial law and locking down the ports, and the whole country for that matter. His advisers called for something more than a slim hope in a group that didn’t seem to even exist. He was beginning to have his own doubts, but he had promised them more time, and he was a man of his word, no matter what evil may come of it. He sent out the report on Taras Karjanski to the news media and hoped they would do what they did best: blow it up and make it so the murderer couldn’t leave his house without fear of being turned in or shot.

  “Mr. President?” James Centerfield walked in, and from the look on his face, he didn’t have good news.

  “What is it, James?”

  James was the Secretary of Defense and a close personal friend. His balding head and slanted eyes made him look like a cat. “We intercepted a transmission from Russia to China. They are joining forces and planning an attack on the US.”

  “I was afraid this might happen.” The president ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “It was only a matter of time before the world started to think we’re behind the bombings in an effort to take over the world’s oil reserves.”

  “I have one more thing that might be worth looking into.” He was silent for a moment.

  “Spit it out, James.”

  “According to our satellites, there is movement in the Middle East. They’re mobilizing, sir.”

  The president stood and turned to look out the large window that opened up to the beautiful green White House lawn. “They’ve been fighting for thousands of years, and now they come together. Who would have believed this day would come? I hope you went to church on Sunday. We’re going to need all the help we can get!” He let out a sigh. “God help us.”

  * * *

  I COULD STILL FEEL K’s sweet kiss as I drove to the Merc building. I called Isis on my way. She could hardly contain her happiness to hear my voice. She filled me in as I drove, and from the looks of the city, I could see a difference right away.

  Most of the businesses were closed, and only a few cars were on the streets. The feeling of dread and grief could be cut with a knife. Gas and oil were rationed, among other things, and so all but the necessities of life had stopped. No more theaters, malls, fast food…even the schools were closed.

  I stopped to fill up at the only gas station I saw open, and after handing over four hundred-dollar bills, I could see why not many people were driving around. A few kids with ball caps on backward and big coats that looked like pieced-together life jackets were throwing rocks at a store window. They bolted when a bike cop hassled them and yelled at them to go home.

  I had a good idea how to find Taras, but I needed to sleep. To sleep and to dream. The experience in the coffin had inexplicably changed me. It was as if scales had fallen from my eyes and I saw, and felt, everything differently. I was more aware of another plane, one I couldn’t see. And I was more aware of the spirit in people…as if I could read what they were.

  I put Isis off about where I was or how I got out by just telling her that I escaped. I wasn’t ready to share it with anyone besides K. Later, I’d tell her about Solomon and his last moments. But not now. She didn’t press me further, for now, and told me about the apartment where Taras had had a body and a bomb waiting. I told her about Solomon and Emily Dobson. I tried to control my anger, but this time I was not going after Taras in the name of justice. This time, it was personal.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I WAS IN A dimly lit room, in a bed, under the covers, and had taken more than a regular dose of sleeping pills. This room was in the Merc building, they’d set it up so people could bunk down here when the job kept them at the building around the clock.

  It was time to tap into my new-found abilities.

  My mind was running in a thousand different directions like a computer downloading a large file. I could feel a sinister blackness fill my mind as the mind of the Red Dog opened up to me. It wasn’t like I could just see what might happen, but I could feel the thoughts of the person. In most of my glimpses, I was me, but this time I wanted to get into Taras’s head. The pit of my stomach hurt as the conflicting thoughts and one very strong voice took over. The hate and the power I felt rushed over my body like electricity hitting a pool of water. I saw nothing but darkness and heard a faint sound of heavy breathing. In deep, then out, then a long sigh.

  He was sleeping.

  I tried to move but was trapped like dead weight inside of the killer. “Wake up, you sadistic monster!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Guess who?”

  My eyes opened, and I bolted straight up out of bed. A woman was sleeping next to me, and the room was dark except for a flickering candle on the dresser. I could feel the thoughts rolling around in his head, looking to see what had woke him. I was drenched in sweat, or rather, Taras was.

  To this day I can’t get out of my mind the thoughts and memories that filled my head. It’s like a bad song that gets stuck and just plays over and over again in your mind, tormenting you. He was a twisted monster that only wanted to kill. He loved the act of killing more than anything else in the world.

  Rubbing my eyes, I got up and pulled myself toward the window. He looked at t
he bathroom, but I turned to the window, and soon after, his legs followed. It was a weird feeling, his thoughts and mine mixed up, all of them screaming to be obeyed. I put all my focus to the task at hand. One thing I didn’t want was for him to see the other way. I wasn’t sure how it all worked, but I was almost positive that if I stayed in too long, he would know it was me. I needed to see where I was, to give me some idea where to start looking. A street sign or an address of some kind would be the best, but I was not prepared to see what I saw next.

  The night air and lights made a shimmering fog lift from the city streets, making the streets glow. Walking to the window, I looked down to the street where a single cab waited for a passenger. The next thing I saw woke me up in a cold sweat. Right across the street from where I, Taras Karjanski, was standing, I saw the entrance to the Merc building.

  * * *

  HE WAS ALIVE! MARK had called in and talked to Isis and she’d updated him on everything that was going on. Kirk caught part of the conversation, and from the sounds of it, Mark had been kidnapped by Taras and left for dead. He has more lives than a cat! Mark had come in a few hours later and they rushed him into a small room with a comfortable couch with soft music playing.

  They thought he could find out where Taras was, but Kirk had his doubts. The whole dream thing was a little too farfetched, but Isis seemed to be on board with it, so he brushed his doubts aside.

  Kirk held onto the leather-bound book and sat in Isis’s office thumbing through the blank pages. It was a bit confusing to have a book with nothing written in it. The pages had a slight yellow tint to them and the cover was bound with old, rough cords intertwined through the pages on one side. It looked to be well over a hundred years old, maybe even older.