FREEFALL (A Megalith Thriller Book 1)

by D R Sanford

  Cullen ran the course again, this time achieving that strange focus from the start. He didn’t know where it came from, but knowing it was there made it easier to command. It was a little like competing with village boys during his youth. The tingle of building energy in his fingertips, the deep inhalations that fueled his body, and the high that came with every attempt to beat not only others but himself as well.

  On Friday morning, Ferdiad instructed Cullen and Robbie on his version of unit mechanics then relieved Cordova of his rifle and marched off for the sniper’s nest at the finish line.

  Laeg stood with a carbine hanging from his shoulder, apparently bored.

  Cordova replenished the field with dummies, bagging and painting twelve more.

  Gleefully spinning a dagger on each hand, Larkin waited for Cordova’s return and commanded, “Lock and load”, followed by his ever unsettling laughter.

  They set off, Cordova and Larkin on the left, Robbie and Laeg on the right. Cullen crouched low in the center. A shot rang out from the opposite end. The bullet drove into the driver’s door of a car ten feet away, and everyone rushed forward. The course played out as it had before, but this time Cullen led the way as the center of a wave spewing bursts of controlled gunfire.

  Cullen hadn’t even noticed Larkin until he sighted on the twelfth mannequin and was startled by the flash of an arm and steel burying itself under a plastic chin. Larkin’s head popped out from behind the mannequin’s. He looked directly through Cullen’s optic and winked, a playful glint in his eye.

  —Chapter 17—

  THE LAST SUPPER

  Everyone gathered at the dining table for dinner on Saturday. Cullen helped his mother in the kitchen, taking advantage of what may very well be their last day together. He browned several pounds of ground beef in a large cast-iron skillet. Erin washed fresh fruit in the sink and removed the tops from ruby red strawberries.

  The two exchanged familiar banter but avoided eye contact for fear of the conflicting emotions they harbored. His fourth day awake on the ranch, Cullen realized the bond he'd formed with each unique person involved. While entirely focused on reuniting with Nora he somehow managed to discount the level of commitment the others had made.

  Lugh, his apparent father and ancient deity, had assembled a group of fighters for the sole purpose of stemming Maeve's play for world dominance. They believed Cullen held some key to their success, but he couldn't help comparing himself to Robbie and Alex, two people concerned more with the survival of a few than billions worldwide.

  Everyone wore a mask of total concentration during the morning's drills. Velasco ran through potential problems with misfires and guided Cullen past the awkward stages of reloading with increased speed. Alex led a brief workshop on childbirth and emergency care for new mothers. Cullen appreciated the attention his entire team gave and prayed that Alex would be the first to reach Nora.

  A stickler for time management, Laeg spent the afternoon laying out the plan on the dining table, covering everything from their arrival to their exit. Fergus, a defector who remained at Maeve's headquarters, had used his credentials as chief of security to arrange for their entry, posing as additional staff during the month's full moon ceremony.

  Laeg would drive them over twelve hours to Megalith's seat of power, Cruacha. Once there, they'd receive orders directly from Fergus and proceed with their missions. Cullen, Ferdiad, Alex, and Larkin were to complete a team of six attending to Nora, remove local opposition, and rejoin the team for a hasty retreat.

  Through Laeg, Fergus confirmed the presence of Robbie's estranged father and her newborn daughter Amelia. Apparently Fergus was infuriated that her father planned to overwrite the soul of a legitimate Fergusson and had to be talked down from taking matters into his own hands. Instead, Velasco, Laeg, and Robbie would fill a convenient gap in the onsite nursery, secure Amelia, and disappear without notice.

  In all, Laeg's plan covered two hours in the late afternoon on Sunday, plenty of time before Monday's 3 am ceremony. He stressed that the real challenge lay in putting enough distance between them and Cruacha before anyone noticed. If they couldn't make it to nearby Boise for dispersal on plane, bus, and train the only other option was fading into the Rocky Mountains.

  From Velasco's point of view, the plan had more holes than a brick of Swiss cheese. At least that's what he told the group. Cullen asked why he intended to stick his neck out if the plan was flawed.

  Velasco replied, “They took the only friends I've ever truly been close to and made their lives a tool for greed. Come what may, it's time for me to return the favor.”

  Normally a cold block of ice, Velasco stormed out of the dining room, clearly disturbed. Laeg was standing next to Cullen, so he turned and whispered, “What's that all about?”

  Laeg's eyes followed Velasco out the kitchen door and shrugged. “He was legit, that one. An honorable member of the United States armed forces. Ferdiad does what he can to keep the bloodline clean and long ago established his descendants in all branches of the military. Val served as an Air Force Tactical Air Control Party, embedded with an Army platoon in Afghanistan. Because it was his job to guide in air strikes, they called him The Crow. I think he liked it back then, but do not address him by that now.”

  He paused, realizing that everyone else had tuned into the conversation, and looked to Ferdiad for permission to go on.

  Receiving a brief nod, he continued, “His team was given orders to knock out an arms depot with air support. Val closed in to paint the target and decided the area looked more like a village than a rebel compound, what with the kids playing and everything. He aborted the mission and sent his team back to transport.

  “Turns out the real mission was knocking off a heroin producer who rivaled Megalith's operations in the area. They planned to wipe the village off the map and blame it on bad intel. Official reports show that an IED took out his team on the way back to base, but Val swears the explosion came from inside their vehicle. Val scraped off pieces of his brothers and managed to limp into the back alleys of Kandahar. Since his return to the states, he's been ghosting the southwest, setting up safe houses for Lugh and biding his time to strike back.

  That was explanation enough for everyone. Ferdiad broke up the session, declaring a time out for supper.

  Cullen drifted back to the present. Bowls of fresh fruit and vegetables were lined on the counter top. He prepared his skillet of ground beef and pasta according to the box's instructions, then scooped out eight bowls.

  Sitting at the head of the table, Ferdiad called on Alex to deliver an old Irish blessing. Barely able to sort out the language, Cullen only caught parts about knowledge and justice and goodness. The others seemed rather moved by it. He'd have to remember to ask his mother for a translation later.

  Velasco's place was conspicuously absent, though no one commented, and Cullen could hardly hold it against him. He found himself wishing for some alone time quite a bit in the last few days, and it was increasingly hard to come by.

  Ferdiad remarked on the lunch. “Do we not have anything better than Hamburger Helper for our last meal here?”

  “If you'd let me go into town we could have worked up a feast,” Erin defended. “Instead, we're making the best out of what's left on hand.”

  Across the table from Cullen, Larkin squirmed in his seat, visibly holding something back. Laeg groaned and said, “Go ahead Larkin, it's not as if we haven't heard it a thousand times before.”

  “Why do they call this food hamburger helper, eh?” he said in his thick, eastern European accent. "I say it should be pretty much good without it."

  Cullen fought to stifle a laugh but gave in. Talking through a mouthful of zesty Italian shells he said, "Almost there, bud. Check out Vacation one more time, and you should have the kinks worked out.”

  Larkin's playful glimmer and an enthusiastic nod confirmed Cullen's guess. Clearly starving for some levity in an otherwise sober gathering, Larkin burst out in a co
ntinuous stream of popular culture that was just a little bit off. Robbie and Alex chimed in with guesses, stumbling over each other to earn the next smile and a nod. Everything from song lyrics to movie quotes. He even invited Erin to the game by tossing out lines from the 50's.

  For a short time, the emotional clouds hanging over the group dissipated. Laeg told off-color jokes that drew ashamed laughter. Robbie upped the ante with even more offensive material, drawing surprised guffaws. And Erin entertained the table with misadventures of Cullen's youth. It felt like a family reunion potluck dinner more than the final stages of planning a dangerous corporate raid, but they embraced the moment, unsure if they would share another.

  THE INDESTRUCTIBLE SOUL

  “To conquer oneself is a greater victory than to conquer thousands in battle.”

  – Buddha

  “I walked out to visit a Tlingit wood carver yesterday and was attacked by his dog. I didn’t mean to kill it, just throw a rock to scare it off. Mom freaked out, packed us up, and said it was time to settle down somewhere safe.”

  – Cullen Houltersund’s journal, age 15

  —Chapter 18—

  CRUACHA

  America's northwest passed by at seventy miles per hour, desolate and forbidding. Cullen imagined the settlers who braved these mountain passes, the wagon trains and desperate families unaware of the dangers ahead. To think, it took people days to negotiate a few miles. Except for the scar of a highway crossing the land, today's landscape couldn't be much different than one hundred years before.

  Cullen rode shotgun in the front of a twelve passenger van, next to Laeg, the driver. Ferdiad occupied the seat behind them, with the other four in the back rows. Hours ticked by in relative silence, but after leaving the early morning glow of Salt Lake City behind them and heading north, the crew rehashed their parts for Ferdiad.

  Other than Alex, there was a great deal of consternation over traveling unarmed. Laeg had the final word, addressing Velasco and Robbie. “I don't like it any more than you, but do the math. Unregistered personnel don't get past Cruacha's front gates with more than a nail clipper. All weapons are distributed by the armory. Besides, what good would it do us to get pulled over somewhere in Utah hauling a bus loaded with automatic weapons?”

  “It would never get that far,” grumbled Velasco.

  “Exactly, because we have nothing to get caught with.”

  “That's not what I meant. Even if we're stopped, there's no going back. Some state patrol will not be the factor that throws off this mission.”

  “What are you saying? A little innocent collateral damage is worth you packing heat?”

  Laeg grew agitated, probably over the fact that they had been driving for nearly six hours already and they continued to argue over a point that wasn't about to change.

  A groan from the back row, and Velasco replied, “Again, that's not what I'm saying. I just don't feel comfortable without a little insurance.”

  “Hey, maybe we will get pulled over. Then you can take an officer's sidearm plus anything he's toting in his car,” interrupted Robbie.

  Cullen couldn't tell if she was spitting sarcasm or felt the same as Velasco. At this point, she fairly shook with the need to close the gap between her and the daughter she longed for.

  Personally, Cullen felt like throwing up in his mouth a little bit, but he wasn't about to share that with anybody. That would only dispel his companions’ image of him as some heroic figure come back to life, eager to claim his destiny by overthrowing the evil queen Maeve.

  Driving through the night again, Cullen was reminded of his first deadly encounter with Maeve’s forces. A surging, cold fury had propelled him toward the two men engaging Laeg and Robbie, defenseless in their overturned car. What if that was his true self?

  Cullen believed that compassion was an identifying trait of human nature, but he feared the Cúchulainn inside. Feeling his enemy's spine crunch beneath his forearm and the powerful kick of a .45 in his hand, part of him reveled in that taste of vengeance. Would the spirit of another possess him, pushing Cullen out? Or was that the man he was becoming, merciless and full of rage?

  He blinked away the memory and returned to the landscape flying by outside. The rising sun revealed a vista of browns and grays, scrub brush and rocks. After weeks of trudging over such unforgiving country, the settlers must have gloried in the dense forests and salmon-choked rivers to the west. Perhaps the same waited for him and Nora. Everything hung on the next twenty-four hours.

  ***

  With the sun lowering behind them, Laeg exited the interstate, headed east on a county highway, then turned north on an unmarked road. The first two miles were dusty and full of ruts, enough to throw off the casual adventurers who'd lost their way. If that wasn't enough, at the end of the dirt track were two massive pylons nearly four feet high and half as thick. Painted the color of the surrounding hills, the pylons posed a serious threat to any unsuspecting victims continuing on the road.

  Laeg's dash mounted GPS unit instructed them to pull up short, perhaps thirty feet before the barricade. Cullen handed him a smartphone, preset to dial Cruacha's security office, and listened to the exchange.

  “Hello C3, this is R6 reporting at checkpoint alpha, over.”

  “R6, this is C3, wait one for authentication, over.”

  “Copy that C3. Wilco.”

  In seconds, a fence of steel rods sprung from the earth and surrounded the van. Branches of fiber optics emerged from their tips, various nodes waving at the ends. Cullen stared out the windshield as he was subjected to scores of camera angles and sensors. The team sat, quiet and still in their seats, just as Ferdiad had instructed. Although guaranteed that Fergus assured their passage, Cullen fought against the urge to duck below window level and felt a bead of sweat trickle down the middle of his back.

  Minutes passed that stretched on forever. Finally, the fiber optics retreated into the rods and sank out of view.

  “R6, you may proceed to HQ, do you copy, over?”

  “Copy that C3, R6 is incoming, over.”

  “C3 out.”

  Laeg shrugged at the phone in his hand, ended the call, and placed it in his shirt pocket. Outside, the pylons blocking the road dropped into the ground. Laeg shifted the van into drive and crept along until they passed the blockade. The road turned into a well-maintained course of even blacktop, and after another five miles they crested a low rise, marveling at the scene below.

  The narrow valley, green and lush with flowing grasses, nestled between two low ranges of peaks. A river split the expanse from north to south, eventually wandering away from the road, into the west. They proceeded north along the river, curving with it, until they reached the unsuspecting seat of world affairs.

  Wedged into the western mountainside, a massive, Frank Lloyd Wright inspired edifice perched above them. Four stories ascended above a parking structure, full of mirrored glass and protruding timbers casting evening shadows on the valley floor. They crossed a short bridge where the river cut across to the valley's eastern edge.

  Beyond the main complex, Cullen spotted a number of long, low buildings. Those would be the barracks Ferdiad had mentioned, outfitted for nearly two hundred security personnel whose sole purpose was to ensure the safety of Maeve and her occult ceremonies that took place in an oak grove to the north.

  He scanned the horizon and saw the canopy of trees perhaps a mile up the valley. If they had any luck at all, they'd never see the inside of that grove.

  Laeg proceeded to a bay of garage doors and stopped before the one marked ‘6’. The door rose, and everyone held a collective breath as they pulled forward. Officially past the point of no return, Laeg shifted to park and cut the engine.

  He turned in his seat and addressed Ferdiad. “How is it again that no one is going to recognize you?”

  “You'll notice that I'm beardless and short-haired, whereas I used to be the spitting image of Val here. Add this extra hundred pounds to my frame, and
I don't think anyone will notice.”

  “Oh, you added all that weight for your disguise. Brilliant. I assumed you just liked your pot pies and frozen pizzas too much.”

  “Shut it, Laeg.” Ferdiad pivoted on his bench seat, touching everyone with his gaze. “Does anyone have any questions?” Nothing came to mind for Cullen, and no one else piped up. “Good, now remember your objectives. We get checked in by Fergus. He'll lead us to the armory for outfitting and send us off with our proper liaisons.

  “Collect your assets and return to parking bay ‘3’ by 8 pm. If we're compromised,” he paused. “Well, if anything goes wrong we'll all be heading down shit creek without a paddle. Use your own judgment at that point. Stick it out or run. Either way your chances suck.”

  Stunned faces returned his gaze. Cullen felt his bowels clench. Thankfully, Laeg broke the ice. “Not exactly inspirational, boss.” He shrugged off a sharp look from Ferdiad. “Does everyone have in mind the reason you're here?” Heads nodded. “Good. Hold on to that, whether it's payback or reuniting with that special someone you can't live without. The clock is ticking. Roll it out by the numbers, and we'll be just fine. Let's go.”

  He exited the vehicle, followed by Cullen who swung out the double doors on the passenger side. Ferdiad filed out, and the others trailed after him. Everyone dressed in the monochromatic navy blue tactical pants and short-sleeve shirts of Megalith's security personnel. They ascended a short staircase to a door that led out of the parking stall.

  A single corridor linked the parking bays. Three elevators faced them, one for cargo and two for passengers. Ferdiad led the way to the passenger elevator on the right, the only one with a push button to call the car. The others required the swipe of a key card to gain access. Larkin whistled softly, rocking back and forth on the soles of his boots as they waited for the car to descend.