Skyfire

by R J Johnson

  Finally, the vault door fell like a tree. Collier stumbled back, exhausted by the effort. Then he smiled, as one look inside told him it had all been worth it.

  Surrounding the fallen door were stacks upon stacks of money. Collier burst out laughing as the bank manager cowered in the corner of the hallway.

  Moving into the vault, Collier grabbed a double fistful of money. He giggled as he played with it, throwing it up in the air.

  “I’ve always wanted to make it rain. That is what they call it, right?” Collier asked the bank manager.

  “I don’t know. You have what you want. Please, let us go!” the manager pleaded, his voice muffled in the smoke and heat.

  Collier shook his head, “Jesus, what a wuss.”

  He grabbed a nearby bank bag and shoved stacks of money into it until it was bursting and impossible to close. To Collier’s chagrin, the bag turned out to be much heavier than he’d expected. And to make matters worse, he could only cram in a few hundred thousand at best. If he wanted to make a real score, he’d need help. He looked around and spotted what he needed.

  “Grab that table,” Collier ordered. “The one with wheels. I’m gonna need it to get my money out of here.”

  The bank manager hopped to, keeping his head down. He moved quickly to the opposite side of the vault and grabbed the table, wheeling it over to Collier.

  Collier grabbed another bank bag and stuffed it full of cash. The bank manager, hoping perhaps to get Collier out of there faster, started helping him with the money. When the table was covered with bursting bags, Collier turned, grabbing a stack of ten thousand dollars off the ground.

  “Here, for your troubles,” Collier tossed the man a bundle and began to wheel the cash-covered table out the door. “Tell ‘em I took it.”

  The bank manager looked aghast at Collier, but slid the money into his right front pocket regardless.

  Collier whistled as he exited the vault and returned to the main lobby of the Federal Reserve Bank.

  There, he saw something wonderful.

  The blue and red lights of several dozen squad cars flooded the interior of the bank. Collier’s heart raced as he imagined the confrontation he was about unleash. Once he’d made an example of these men and women, no one would ever dare try to stop him again.

  His debut was going to be spectacular.

  His money forgotten for the moment, Collier stood in the lobby, patiently waiting for the police to finish setting up. He then walked purposefully towards the front doors, the thick soles of his boots echoing through the marble foyer. Approaching the glass doors, he stepped through to confront his destiny.

  Several dozen police officers had their rifles and pistols aimed, all in defense of their government’s money. Collier swept his eyes over each of them. Their faces were plain, forgettable. No one important would miss them.

  “Put your weapon down!” a sergeant shouted over a bullhorn. “Turn around, put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers! Do it now!”

  Collier didn’t respond. He simply raised a hand.

  That was all the Police Sergeant needed. “Fire!”

  Collier giggled at the sergeant’s choice of words.

  The men and women of the SDPD each pulled their triggers. A chorus of clicks went up all around, like crickets on a hot summer night. The officers all stared in confusion, twisting their guns this way and that in their hands. Collier let the fear sink in, gave them plenty of time to rack another round and pull their triggers again.

  Nothing.

  “How ‘bout a little fire, Scarecrow?” Collier whispered as he raised his other hand.

  He stepped forward and unleashed hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In the short eight hours they had, Ododa attempted to take his wife on a whirlwind tour of the world, trying to sample and see everything they’d ever wanted to. Ododa assured his wife that their children would get along fine without them, and would likely not even know they were gone. The twins slept like rocks, and their neighbors could be counted on in an emergency. Besides, it was not without precedent that Ododa and his wife would be away all night; he’d be at the mine, and she at the university.

  Ododa took Lwansa back to Paris first, where they ate their way through half the city. He then took her to Venice, escorting her through the canals, having one of the men sing them songs of love and romance.

  He took her to see the pyramids of Giza, transporting them up to the very top, where they watched the sun rise over Egypt. Ododa was concerned about the recent troubles in the area (revolutions were never bloodless), but she argued that they would be safe enough sitting on top of the world’s most famous pyramid.

  He took her to see the Grand Canyon. He took her to the Space Needle. He took her to the London Eye, which they rode for hours, watching the skyline as dawn broke over the city. He even took her inside Buckingham Palace, where they were nearly caught by the Queen’s guards. His stone took care of that, however, and they teleported away, giggling like teenagers out after curfew.

  In their time together, they watched the sun rise and set in a dozen different locations across the world. They saw the world as everyone should see it, in person and together with the one they loved.

  It was the most magical adventure Lwansa had ever experienced in her life.

  Finally, they reappeared on the front lawn of their simple home, completely changed by the experience. Ododa held his wife’s hand as they moved up the walk and into his house.

  “Did that really just happen?” he asked her.

  Her smile was the kind women had used to control civilization for the last five thousand years. “It doesn’t matter. It was real enough to me.”

  Ododa hugged her tightly, but as he moved to open the door, he frowned. Something was wrong; the door was unlocked. He cocked his head, his eyes widening slightly. Not wishing to alarm his wife, he moved quickly inside their home, hoping all he would need to do was chastise his children for not locking the door at night.

  What he found inside would change his life forever.

  Mbasi was sitting at their kitchen table, eating a generous portion of eggs, bacon and potatoes. Ododa’s expression soured even more as he took in the man’s arrogance.

  “Mr. Mbasi,” Ododa began, “you are more than welcome to eat anything within my home, although I think it’s usually customary to ask before you help yourself.”

  Mbasi stared at him, holding a thick slice of bacon, then ate it.

  “I do not think I’ll want to ask for anything else in my life,” Mbasi said, swallowing the meat. “I believe it’s about time I started taking what I want.”

  “I don’t believe…”

  “No!” Mbasi said, slamming his fist on the table, making the dishes and silverware clink together. “You are my subordinate. You do not get to tell me how to think!”

  “Are you resigning?” Ododa asked calmly as he sat down across the table from his boss.

  A sly smile spread across Mbasi’s face. He chuckled. “You could think of it like that.”

  Suddenly, Ododa was struck by how quiet the house was. It was early yet, but he should have at least heard his twins getting ready for school.

  “Where are my daughters?” Ododa asked sharply.

  Mbasi’s smile squirmed up and down as he sat back in his seat, picked up a big scoop of eggs and shoveled it into his mouth.

  Lwansa burst into the kitchen. “I can’t find Innocence or Charity.” She stared at Mbasi, and a cold realization came over her. “What have you done?!”

  Still smiling, Mbasi looked at Ododa, “Your children are perfectly safe. I can assure you of that.”

  Ododa didn’t say a word. He didn’t yell, scream or react in any way – other than to jump across the table and grab Mbasi by the throat. He saw nothing but red. This man he had trusted with everything in his professional life, someone he had broken bread with, someone he thought was a brother to him and his family had kidnapped his children?
>
  He choked Mbasi with his considerable strength. Mbasi’s eyes bulged out of his head and began to turn red as he tried to fight back against Ododa’s vise grip. Lwansa screamed and grabbed her husband, trying to pull him back.

  “You… won’t… find them… without… me…” Mbasi wheezed through Ododa’s chokehold.

  “Ododa! Stop!” Lwansa cried, “If he knows where our children are, we need him alive, please!”

  The urge to kill Mbasi had taken over every single fiber of Ododa’s being. He felt as if a monster had overtaken him, and the only way to satisfy it would be to kill the man in his grip.

  Then he felt the soft touch of his wife, and that was enough to bring him back from the mouth of madness. He relented and released the man.

  Mbasi sat back up and began to cough, trying to catch his breath.

  “You… have…gotten stronger, my friend,” Mbasi wheezed.

  Ododa said nothing, but only glared in a cold fury.

  “Where are my children?” Lwansa asked desperately. “Where are they? What have you done?”

  “Your children are alive and hidden away, far from anywhere even you can go…” Mbasi said.

  Ododa’s face fell as he realized Mbasi somehow had figured out his secret.

  “What do you want?” Ododa asked, his eyes narrow.

  Mbasi picked up his fork again and scooped up another bit of eggs. “You know what I want. I want whatever you found in that chamber that’s allowing you to…disappear at will.”

  “Give him the stone,” Lwansa pleaded. Ododa shot a look at her.

  “It’s a stone, then?” Mbasi said, an eyebrow raising.

  “You will die for your betrayal,” Ododa said, still staring at the man.

  “We all die, Ododa,” Mbasi said, standing. “Will you give me the stone or not?”

  Ododa hesitated. He knew if he gave Mbasi the stone now, there was no guarantee the man would give back his children.

  “If you think you are going to be able to beat out the location of your twins from me, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken,” Mbasi said smugly. “I had a trusted associate take them to a safe location. Even I don’t even know where they are now. The only way they continue to live is if I send my associate a text every fifteen minutes. If I do not, they die.”

  Ododa looked at him, defeated. He knew his only chance of seeing his children again was to give up the stone. Even if he could use it to his advantage, he’d have to teleport house-to-house until he somehow found the right one.

  “You win,” Ododa mumbled.

  “What was that?” Mbasi asked.

  “I said you win!” Ododa snarled. “Bring my children back to me and I swear you will have this power.”

  Mbasi nodded and stood, brushing the crumbs of his stolen breakfast off his shirt.

  “Good,” he said, “I’m glad we can come to an arrangement.”

  He checked his watch. “Noon today at the center of the mine. You will excuse the workers for the day and bring me this magical stone of yours, and I swear you will have your children returned to you.”

  Ododa nodded. It wasn’t as if he had any other choice.

  “Good.” Mbasi moved to the door and opened it. Before he left, he turned and glanced at Lwansa’s tear-streaked face. “Understand that you are now at my complete mercy. If I believe you are looking to set me up with any more of your tricks, Innocence will be the first to die. And she will die painfully.”

  Lwansa gasped and whimpered das if Mbasi had cut her deeply with a knife. Mbasi turned and strode out the door.

  Collapsing into her husband’s arms, Lwansa stared at the retreating figure of the man they had once trusted. Ododa didn’t know what he was going to do, but stone or no, he swore Mbasi would not see another sunset.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The last thing Alex wanted was to sleep, but he found it surprisingly easy. Once his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

  And whether it was because of his confessions to his friends or just the fact he’d been running for far too long, he slept the sleep of the just. He had no terrifying nightmares that brought him back to the mistakes of the past. Nothing to remind him of what he had done to innocents during his time as a wetwork contractor.

  His soul was at peace for the first time in nearly seven years.

  Unfortunately, that peace only lasted until Scott shook him awake.

  “Alex… Alex!” Scott was saying. “Get up. You’re gonna wanna see this.”

  Alex did his best to ignore his friend and return to dreamland, but the urgency in Scott’s voice finally made him stir.

  “What is it?” he asked grumpily. It was the first peaceful sleep he’d had in God-only-knew-how-long, and Scott had had to go and ruin it.

  “The TV, you…” Scott shook his head. “Seriously, you’ll want to see this.”

  Alex sat up and looked at the TV, which was tuned to the cable news channel. On it, a live shot of downtown San Diego was playing, with a chyron asking if America was under attack.

  “Terrorists?” Alex asked. A terrorist attack might shut down the whole city, and that was the last thing they needed.

  “I don’t think so…” Scott said sadly.

  Alex sat up and wiped the blur away from his eyes, trying to concentrate on the images flashing across the screen. An attractive, serious-looking anchorwoman came on and began describing the scene.

  “Again, if you’re just joining us, we’re receiving word that there has been an incident in downtown San Diego…”

  “They always say that…” Scott snorted. “Can’t panic people by saying, ‘Hey, by the way, shit’s hitting the fan.’”

  Suddenly someone began pounding at their hotel room door. Alex grabbed his pistol and clutched his stone for safekeeping as he approached the peephole. The pounding was coming from Emily, who had a very worried-looking Christina standing next to her.

  “Jesus, Emily,” Alex said, opening the door, “I nearly shot you.”

  She ignored him and moved to the, TV looking at Scott who was staring back at her, his eyes wide.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Scott asked her.

  She ignored him. Alex couldn’t help but notice the tears streaming down her face.

  “What is it, Emily?” he asked concerned. He closed the door behind him as Christina followed them into the hotel room.

  The anchor looked up from the paper that was just handed to her and looked gravely into the camera.

  “Confirmed reports coming in now that there have been at least twenty fatalities during the daring afternoon robbery in Downtown San Diego. We’re also being told that this robbery may also have a connection to the explosion and fires reported yesterday at UCSD.”

  The camera cut to the second anchor sitting next to her, “Footage of the bank robber has not been released yet, however a nearby witness sent in this cell phone video of what police and Homeland Security are now classifying as a terrorist attack.

  “We caution our viewers to look away or usher small children out of the room as this footage may be disturbing to many.”

  The scene cut to a shaky cell phone video that was being taken by someone in a neighboring office building several floors above the street. There Alex could barely make out what was going on, but the scene was clear enough.

  A man exited the bank and looked around at the SWAT and various police surrounding him. He raised his hands and suddenly, fire filled the whole of the screen washing out the iPhone’s video camera recording. The software in the camera adjusted for the sudden burst of light and the video faded back into view.

  There a man was directing lines of flame towards the police cruisers and the people surrounding them. They cried out in terror as the flames took on a life of their own, targeting the various officers who were only there to do their jobs.

  The man began to laugh maniacally as cruiser after cruiser blew up around him, the conflagrations seemingly coming from nowhere. The shaky camera phone
video panned towards the different men and women of the SDPD, as they threw their weapons down, apparently useless against the man with a flamethrower.

  Alex had seen footage of the old WWII and Vietnam era flamethrowers which he assumed the bank robber had been using, however, he couldn’t see a tank of fuel or wand that he used to direct the flames. The fire seemed to come directly from his hands.

  Alex had been so focused on the video playing out on the screen that he nearly didn’t notice that Emily was in tears, shaking as she watched.

  “What is it? Are you okay?” Alex asked again, a large pit opening up in his stomach. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him.

  She raised a finger and pointed it to the man on the screen unleashing hellfire on people.

  “That’s… that’s Max…” she said, her voice shaking.

  “Who’s Max?” he asked confused.

  She couldn’t or wouldn’t respond and only sat down slowly on the bed facing the screen watching the man kill several police officers like they were rabid dogs to be put down.

  “Her fiancé,” Scott answered for her.

  Alex felt the lump in his throat return and he slumped to the floor along with Emily as they watched the rest of the horrifying scene play out on the screen in front of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was the bump of the plane landing that woke Tate. He had stuffed his leather jacket against the window, hoping to get some sleep while he still could. The adventure of the last forty-eight hours had been tasking, and the next forty-eight didn’t look as if they were going to let up.

  Kline strode forward, with the plane not even finished taxiing, impatiently waiting for the door to open. When it finally did, Kline bounded down the stairs quickly, heading for a waiting Suburban that Tate had arranged for ahead of time.

  Tate disliked the place the instant he stepped off the plane. His mouth curdled to express his displeasure as he stepped into the curtain of humid heat. He hadn’t had much time to shower, shave or even change his clothes since their misadventure in Joshua Tree. Stepping into the soupy jungle humidity didn’t help alleviate the feeling of stewing in his own filth all night.