FREEFALL (A Megalith Thriller Book 1)

by D R Sanford

  Damn. Just his luck. Target practice with no opposition. Hopefully they'd be moving, at least.

  Cool and collected, they entered the stairwell, scanned left to right and then up. Ryan swore he saw movement above, but couldn't get a clear shot.

  This part he hated. The methodical ascent, checking for traps on the way up, and wasting time while their prey ran for its hole.

  Nothing on the stairs. Ryan was sweating when he pulled down on the latch to the third floor entry.

  Eric sighted on the hallway opposite, but you couldn't always trust the guy's aim. He was always prone to spray a room without picking targets.

  “Clear,” Eric whispered, and Ryan pulled the door open for the team's passage.

  Nice and quiet. They had the entire hall to themselves. Todd led the way in a crouch, pressing gently on the double doors ahead. Mark lined up on the left side behind Shane's shield. Mac propped his shield before a break in the wall.

  Hold it. Ryan remembered a maintenance closet on this side of the doors.

  He crept around Eric and Mac. Heel to toe, heel to toe he approached the door knob and grasped it with an extended left hand. Ryan held the HK tight to his shoulder and aimed a few inches inside the knob as he turned it.

  “The doors are locked. We need to breach,” Todd said.

  The closet forgotten, Ryan backpedaled and resumed his position behind Eric. Todd stuck explosives on the door seams. The team inched back a little farther, cinched their helmet straps tighter, and prepared for the blast.

  Todd moved back into place between Shane and Mark.

  “Going hot.”

  Something exploded in front of Mac’s shield, and it wasn't C4 or splinters and plaster. Some guy, dressed in guard blues, launched himself at Shane, driving a spike through his goggles and piercing his eye.

  Shane dropped like a sack of potatoes while their assailant wrenched the shield from his lifeless hands and aimed it in their direction.

  Not good. They were totally caught off gua—.

  Whoa. Not so unarmed after all. An arm reached along the wall with a handgun and fired round after round into Todd's and Mark's faces. Blood splattered everywhere.

  Ryan tried to get his HK back to his shoulder but got tripped up when Eric and Mac squeezed into him.

  “Damn it. Don't back up. Move in before he can reload!”

  Heaving against Eric's back, Ryan wrenched his arm free and swung his muzzle low along the floor to take out the enemy's feet.

  Eric fired on the shield. Good. Back the sucker up.

  The hand shot out again and snagged Shane's HK.

  The last thing Ryan saw was a thumb flick the carbine's safety to full auto and empty shells ricocheting off the wall.

  ***

  Cullen knelt behind the riot shield's sheltering curve. Gunpowder filled his nostrils. All this damage in a few pounding heartbeats. He couldn't believe it and didn't want to see more than he had to.

  The bodies lay still. Blood splattered in circular patterns where bullets met their marks and smeared the walls where the guards fell, looking like ripe tomatoes exploded during a food fight. However, what took place in the span between the stairwell door and the third level entry doors had nothing to do with childish games.

  Cullen felt the engine that fueled his rage hum at cruising speed as he combed over the bodies, stripped a vest off one, removed a hip-sack from another, and started loading up ammo. All the while he avoided their faces or what little was left of them. He didn't need any reminders when this was all over.

  Fully loaded with weapons to share, Cullen spotted the detonator on the floor and picked it up.

  Time to make his entrance.

  ***

  This was not how Val planned to go out, trapped in a building with no weapons in hand. He should have stepped up with Ferdiad and taken out Maeve. Of course, it would be a temporary fix, and he'd surely be dead by now, but he owed it to Ferdiad.

  He split from Laeg and Robbie the moment they accessed the second floor’s main corridor. The floor was in lockdown, better for him since staff and guards alike were running to secure nursery rooms and ignoring him.

  He bolted for the south side elevators, keeping his head down and ready to engage. Maybe this wouldn't turn out so bad after all. A guard escorted a nurse into the elevator, and she held to door for Val. He skidded into the car. Flashing a smile at the nurse, Val glanced over to the guard and found him checking out his bare hip.

  “Where's your sidearm?”

  Val threw a roundhouse from the ball of his toes and spun the guard around. He'd wake up with a broken jaw, but at least he'd be alive. Larkin would probably have some quote for the moment, but nothing came to mind. Oh, that guy was rubbing off on him in the worst way.

  Lori the nurse, judging by her name tag, held her clipboard out like a shield.

  “Do you prefer a nap or a headache, Lori?” he asked.

  Without warning, she swung the clipboard at his head. Val dodged to the left, snagged her wrist, and used her own momentum to reel her in. Lori's heels kicked against his shins for a few seconds, but the headlock cutting off oxygen to her brain quickly reduced her to a heap.

  Gotta hand it to the lady. She had some fight in her.

  While the elevator descended, Val busied himself with dragging the bodies out of sight. The car came to a halt, and he pushed the STOP button to buy a few seconds for stripping the guard's belt.

  Once the doors opened, he didn't waste any time putting distance between him and the elevator. Good. He had run into the key-card elevator, and been deposited in the security offices. Luckily, he encountered the same haphazard situation here as they witnessed above.

  Val passed unnoticed on his way to the armory. The door stood open, and no one manned the room. He grabbed a helmet from a hook, then clipped it in place to ensure another level of anonymity. A tactical vest fit nicely over body armor. Val clipped on handfuls of grenades and slid loaded magazines into pockets.

  With every tick of the clock, Val felt his situation improve from bleak to promising. He'd nearly filled a sack with ammo and small arms when he saw the untouched treasure of the armory.

  Pulling the familiar weapon from its rack, Velasco Cordova felt prepared to meet his end, very possibly taking the house down with him.

  ***

  Alex engaged the hall guard to buy time while Larkin locked up the double doors. At first, the guard challenged Alex in his medical uniform, but they must have a healthy respect for the onsite doctors, because he settled down when Alex managed to get a hand on his elbow.

  Very calmly, Alex led the guard toward the doors and even coaxed him into assisting Larkin with the cable. The halls emptied behind them. It must appear as though they were performing their duties.

  Alex felt horrible when Larkin finished securing the doors, knowing that Cullen stood on the other side, the odds stacked against him.

  The padlock clicked in Larkin's hand. Their assistant even pressed on the doors to ensure they had a solid barricade.

  He eyed them both for a second and must have come to his senses, saying, “Hey, I don't recognize you two. Can I check your duty cards?”

  Alex saw a flash of metal drop from Larkin's sleeve into his palm and stepped in, delivering three quick blows to the guard's neck. His eyes rolled up in his head. Knees buckled, and his skull bounced off the tile floor.

  Disappointment replaced the scary glimmer in Larkin's eyes as he stuffed the wickedly hooked carpet knife back in his sleeve and said to the senseless mass on the floor, “I’ll use your badge, if you don’t mind.”

  ***

  Maeve reached her study with her two remaining escorts plus a beaten, bloody, and unconscious Ferdiad. Either the Maines weren't producing such elite bodyguards as they did in past generations, or Ferdiad really hadn't lost a step in his middle years.

  She examined Ferdiad from the safety of her office chair, her modern day throne. Stuffed into a visitor's chair, his head lolling b
ack, he slouched where they dumped him. On her orders, Gary and Joseph made quick work of pinning his limbs to the chair with zip ties.

  What kind of names were Gary and Joseph, anyhow? She understood the need to mainstream, but perhaps the softening of traditions had also carried over to their training. She’d have to take it up with her son, Morgor Maine, the dutiful son in charge of her protection.

  In the meantime, she would call upon the backup teams one of her more reliable subjects had established within the mountain.

  On the far side of the room, a shadow disengaged from those nearby. Gary noticed it a second after Maeve and had his weapon trained on the figure crossing the vast library.

  Morrigan approached Maeve's desk, resplendent in a yellow summer dress that contrasted her luscious dark curls beautifully. Appearing in her youngest and most captivating form, Morrigan glided by Gary, her manicured nails grazing his chin as she passed.

  She sat on the corner of the desk and crossed her legs, grinning at Maeve.

  “Not now, Morrigan,” Maeve said. “Can't you see I'm a bit busy here?”

  “Oh, dear Maeve,” her voice carrying the melody of a songbird, “I'm only here to offer my aid. Isn't there something I can do for you?”

  The entire building was locked down tightly by now. Very few would be able to move about freely.

  “We have everything under control here, Morrigan.”

  “Are you sure? What about the girl in the southeast apartment, the one scheduled to give birth to your pup?”

  In all the commotion, Maeve nearly forgot about the mother and her most precious unborn child on the floor below. Someone had to collect her, without a struggle and quickly.

  The notion that Ferdiad’s team hadn’t come to attack Maeve also came to mind.

  Now she most definitely wanted to be present when Ferdiad regained consciousness, and with Morrigan putting herself at Maeve’s disposal, there was no need to risk leaving her fourth floor bunker.

  She clasped Morrigan's milk-white hand in her own and offered her best approximation of a grateful smile.

  ***

  Morrigan waited impatiently while the elevator descended, tapping her toes behind a semi-circle of four bodyguards. Heavily armed and tense, they certainly exceeded her need for security.

  Then again, disguised as Maeve, she did command an exciting level of respect.

  They had ushered her into the empty car when it arrived. Tucked her into a back corner. Down to the third floor to collect Maeve’s prize. Oh, how predictable the old queen could be.

  Right now nothing meant more to the queen than the mother and child sequestered below. In her shortsightedness, Maeve truly believed the girl’s unborn child to be Cúchulainn. Doubtless, Maeve could shape the boy into a formidable warrior, but he was not and never would be, The Hound.

  A wellspring of inner mirth rose within Morrigan and split her lips in a grin, an exact copy of Maeve’s. To think, her benefactor had no idea the very reincarnation of Cúchulainn nipped at their heels, only moments away from spoiling Maeve’s plans for conquest.

  What more did she require, anyhow? War and conflict would soon wither away if all of the world fell under Maeve’s domain. Aside from the inevitable boredom peace promised, Morrigan was firmly against fading away from lack of worship as many of her fellow deities had.

  Moving Nora out of her husband’s reach served a dual purpose. It kept their child on the move within the compound and gave Cullen more opportunity to flex his muscles. After all, nearly two thousand years spent drifting in the void went a long way in suffocating the fiercest warrior she’d ever seen.

  Quietly, they proceeded down the halls along the south end, heading for the west corner where Maeve believed Nora enjoyed her lavishly appointed suite. One of the men flashed a key card outside the apartment door and stood back for visual confirmation. Morrigan knew the entire hall was visible from a manned security console inside.

  Twitching with impatience, she brushed past the center guards, turning the door knob to gain entry. The lock disengaged at her touch. Inside the foyer, a guard stumbled over his own feet after throwing the desk switch and trying to stand in her presence. She’d have to remember the benefits that came with masquerading as Maeve.

  She traveled through the spacious corner apartment, dismissing more security along the way. Was Maeve even aware that her precious guest used only a small portion of her appointed space? No wonder the guards fought over shifts in the third floor’s southwest corner.

  Morrigan reached Nora’s bedroom door and knocked gently. She took the mumbled response as an invitation to enter.

  Nora stood before the southern windows, her hands spread out in the small of her back, completely insulated from the alarms disrupting the compound. Noticing Morrigan’s entrance, she turned, her face wincing with the cramping pains of motherhood. Round and heavy in the front, she knew the girl would deliver that night, one way or another.

  Recognizing Maeve as her uninvited guest, Nora’s features screwed up in disgust. No love lost there, Morrigan thought.

  “Oh Nora, no need to be unpleasant. Today is a joyous day. You will give birth to a child prophesied to change the world. You should be proud.”

  “And what good will I be to you once he’s born?”

  “Direct, aren’t you, Nora? I suppose there has been a great deal of time to ponder your future, or possible lack thereof.” Morrigan shooed away the comment and took a seat at the foot of Nora’s bed.

  “What else would you have me do here, Maeve? I’m your prisoner.” She waved her arms, indicating the borders of her incarceration. “Wait. I have an idea. How about you let me go home?”

  Morrigan spied the quiver of Nora’s lower lip before the girl turned away, hiding her face.

  “Nora? Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

  Nora faced her again, a hand over her mouth, a tear in her eye, bravely overcoming her emotions.

  “I’m waiting for an answer, girl.”

  “Yes,” she whispered with a nod.

  Morrigan shed her disguise then, resuming the appearance of the pale, dark-haired maiden that completed the triad of her natural forms. She bathed in the shock, fear, and awe emanating from Nora’s discovery that the world was vastly more magical than she could ever imagine.

  The frightened girl backpedaled into a corner of the room, upending a bedside lamp with her whirling arms.

  “Stay… stay away from me. Who... what are you?”

  “Keep your voice down girl. There is no need for hysterics.” Morrigan patted the space beside her. “Sit yourself down so we can have a little girl to girl chat, hmmm?

  From the look on Nora’s face they weren’t about to become gal pals anytime soon. Pity they had so little time.

  “Perhaps I took the wrong approach. Let me put it this way. You can sit down next to me as I asked, or I can rip the child from your womb right here. The final sights in your eyes would be this horrid wallpaper that Maeve picked out sometime in the 70’s.”

  Morrigan pressed back the skin encroaching on her cuticles, letting the threat linger. Inwardly she began a count, one that promised to end with an unpleasantness best left for one of her sisters.

  A weight settled on the bed next to her. Nora fidgeted uncontrollably. A sidelong glance confirmed the girl was sufficiently frightened and likely to participate with Morrigan’s plan.

  “Good. We can be friends, can’t we?” Morrigan placed her hand on Nora’s knee. Impulse pulled the girl’s leg away, but she did well to overcome it and remain tense beneath her touch.

  “Yes,” Nora replied, her voice shaking. “Are you Maeve?”

  “Heavens no, girl. Maeve is a woman, of extreme talents mind you, but a woman nonetheless. I, on the other hand, am a goddess. Whereas she may hop from life to life, I have no such limits. Now, enough about me. I want to talk about you and that unborn world-changer you’ve got in there.”

  She tickled Nora’s belly only to be met with the s
ame reproachful tension. What was it with these humans, always so sensitive about their personal space? Morrigan, at least this incarnation of her, much preferred the closeness of human touch and its inherent trust compared to the isolation and desolation desired by her sisters. Of course, humans put so much emphasis on earning trust. Not much of an issue for a goddess.

  “Forgive me. I did not intend to be rude, Nora. I would rather be friends than enemies.”

  “Everybody wants something from me,” Nora whimpered. Not an appealing trait, but she could be forgiven considering the circumstances.

  “They do. It’s no mystery, dear. Maeve seeks to control your child and will most likely leave you for dead. Your beloved husband hopes to reunite with both of you. I, on the other hand, propose a compromise. Are you with me so far?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Good, now listen closely. If you proceed as planned, I will personally guarantee your life, not just your child’s. Considering the alternative, that should sound like the offer of a lifetime. What do you think?”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Come with me, obediently, no questions asked. In a matter of hours you will give birth, and the two of us will see the man of our dreams once again.”

  “Cullen? He’s coming?”

  Nora made an effort to stand, teetering back and forth on the mattress before she stood, leaning on a bureau.

  Morrigan stood beside her, offering a comforting pat on the back while Nora caught her breath.

  “Sweetheart, he’s already here. Now don’t go thinking you can waltz out of your apartment into his waiting arms. You’ll get all three of you killed by doing that. He needs a little practice before he can reach you, a little devolution if you will. So, what is your choice? Come with me, or settle in for a carpet view of the wallpaper?”

  The nail on her right index finger grew in length to a wicked point capable of disemboweling Nora where she stood. Morrigan tapped it conspicuously on top of the hardwood before Nora’s eyes.