by LC Champlin
Her eyes widened for a split second before training reasserted itself. “Albin Conrad? Aren’t you supposed to be—” Breaking off, she shook her head. “I don’t really know where the hell you’re supposed to be. I do know your former boss over there should be doing his job.”
What did she mean? He followed her gesture, but only the lift and the entry to the emergency stairs greeted him. A few cannibals pawed at the door. “Mr. Serebus is alive?”
“You didn’t know? He’s here, but you better not be. You both better not be. I would suggest taking Gate 4. Go!” She waved him and Judge off.
“Thank you, Officer.” With a nod, he and the dog set off.
++++++++++++
The concrete stairwell echoed with the fugitives’ running footsteps.
Door. End of the line. The pair halted, Nathan on point. Careful now. He eased it open an inch. Shit, a herd of the bastards wandered the ground level. Trapped. Not against the devil and the deep blue sea, but against two hordes of demons.
Kenichi Oshiro’s description of them as the Damned came to mind. That bastard. If not for him, Albin would have survived. He and Nathan never would have parted company. Redwood Shores might now exist as a stronghold rather than a cannibal playground.
This time I will find a cure. Unlike before. Before the captivity, before the drugs, before the deaths.
He settled the door closed. “Get the transceiver.”
“Again, I don’t think it’s working—”
“Now!” Nathan covered the stairs with the carbine. Still nothing, but the hisses grew louder.
Birk pulled the disk from its bag.
“Tie your paracord to it. Throw it in front of the Dalits. If it doesn’t work, we can reel it back.”
“We should just shoot our way out.”
“And attract every Soldier, FBI agent, and cannibal in the building?” Nathan sneered up at the empty stairs, green in the night-vision, in lieu of looking at Birk. “I’m not that suicidal.” Yet.
Taking a breath, Birk opened the door wide enough to roll the disc out. Half the size of an average cheese wheel, it traveled several yards before losing momentum. The cannibals around it turned at the movement. They kept their distance for a moment. Perhaps it started working—then they closed in.
++++++++++++
From the second level’s railing, Albin could see everything that transpired on the floor below. There, cannibals dashed toward the stairs beside the lift. Evidently they knew prey would come to them. If Mr. Serebus had indeed descended these steps, he would find no escape at the bottom.
At the exit to the stairs, the door opened. A black disc slid out. A transceiver? Nothing happened: no explosion, and no reaction from the cannibals.
++++++++++++
Birk reeled in the transceiver, which on second thought might not have counted among one of Nathan’s best ideas. The swarm of piranhas outside followed the bait to the door.
Nathan caught Birk’s wrist. “Wait. They’ll lose interest in a minute.”
A door somewhere above clicked open.
Sssssssaaaahhhh!
Near, on the second floor, though the stairwell’s acoustics could have skewed its source. How—
Birk’s head jerked around to gawk at the flight of stairs. “Didn’t you have a plan for this? I thought you had a plan for everything?”
The radio squelched with Sophia’s signal for . . . parking lot. “Nathan,” Sophia’s voice crackled. “Can you get out?”
“We need to exit via the rear gate.” Gate 4. “It’s the only way around our friends. We’re at the emergency stairs.”
“Shit! There’s a horde between you and the gate.”
Nathan regarded Birk from the corner of his eye. The researcher knew LOGOS. He also knew how the cannibal-control device worked. In theory. As much as it pained to admit, Victor Anthony Birk would prove as beneficial as Nathan in stopping the cannibals. Assuming the little bastard cooperated.
More hissing and shifting of bodies from above.
Shoulder to the wall beside the door, Nathan opened the barrier a few inches. The cannibals had moved away from the disc, but they still ranged throughout the first level.
“Birk, I’m going to draw them toward Gate 10.” The gate on this side closest to the ticket counter, to the right of the emergency stairs. “In the confusion, the government won’t notice I’m there. They might even mistake me for one of their own. You rendezvous with Sophia at Gate 4. Take the transceiver.”
“All right. Just make sure they all follow you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Er, be careful.” Birk’s expression hovered between a wince and a reassuring smile.
Sssssaaaaahhh!
Cannibals stormed down the stairs, some leaping over the banisters to land in a crouch on the lower flight.
“Go!” Nathan ducked out, Birk on his heels. Closing the door sandwiched the duo between hordes.
Birk snatched up the disk. After a glance over his shoulder at Nathan, he sprinted leftward, toward Gate 4.
Here went everything and nothing. Nathan clapped his hands. “Hey, eyes on me!”
The Dalits obliged. Let the show begin.
Chapter 80
Guardian Angel
It’s Time – Imagine Dragons
He charged the Dalits, causing them to halt. Ducking and dodging, he wound between them as if making for the end zone. Don’t think, just go. He shot into a clearing. Pounding across the gap, using support columns and kiosks as concealment to confuse them, he barreled toward Gate 10.
He could let himself out through it. Then he need only enter Gate 1—which flashed by at that moment—circle behind the cannibals, and Sophia would pick him up at Gate 4.
The Dalits gained ground shockingly quickly.
Ten yards to the gate—
More cannibals joined the chase.
Five—
Nathan half crashed into it, key already in hand. Into the lock—Oh fucking hell, a chain with a padlock secured the gate. The two-inch-thick steel bars offered no hope.
Carbine up. The cannibals closed in. Going to prison offered more chance than these monsters. Perhaps he could cut his way through them.
A rope—paracord—with a loop at the end dropped before his face from the second-floor balcony.
“Come!” A male voice barked from above, echoing in the stadium’s concrete, glass, and steel. “I will pull you up.”
Nathan kicked his foot into the loop and grabbed the cord. Too thin to climb. The rescuer had better come through. For all he knew, the man upstairs would cut the line halfway up and drop him back into the lions’ den.
The line tightened. Up Nathan went, even as the cannibals charged. They leapt at him, clawing at his feet, but he kicked the hands away.
Clear of the abominations, Nathan peered up into the night-vision green. As soon as his head came level with the balcony, he grabbed the handrail and pulled himself up. Adrenaline thankfully silenced his ribs.
A hand grabbed his arm. A man wearing a full-face gas mask assisted him the last of the distance. Nathan cleared the rail, landing beside the savior. Black fatigues and combat gear matched the stranger’s black rifle. The uniform lacked insignia, but that meant little.
Beside him waited a German Shepherd with ears erect and attention on the far end of the concourse.
Ssssssaaaaahhh! From down the passage. Running feet—
Jerking his head down the hall, the masked man set off. Nathan followed the devil he didn’t know, or perhaps the angel. What did he have to lose?
Ahead, the monsters appeared around the corner. The man and his canine veered right, toward the bathrooms.
After bursting through the doorway, the newcomer pulled a handful of wooden shims from a pocket in his vest. Once Nathan and the dog cleared the threshold, the fellow wedged them into the gap between door and frame.
Nathan raised his night-vision gog
gles in favor of holding his flashlight aloft to shine on him and his savior. “Thank you. Are you with the FBI? The DHS?” Or perhaps one of LOGOS’s people. None offered much hope.
Finished securing the door, his rescuer turned to face him. The light glinted on the mask’s tinted goggles. Like the eyes of a dead man, they stared not at but through Nathan. The stranger reached up and lifted off his helmet, then removed the skull-like mask. A blond, blue-eyed man with angular, refined features regarded him.
No. Gaping, Nathan stumbled back. “No.” Shaking his head. “Washington said you were dead. I’m hallucinating again. You can’t be here.” Blood howling in his ears—The red-gold eyes opened in the back of his mind. They seemed to laugh.
The ghost put his head to one side, exposing the left aspect of his neck and . . . a thin, healed laceration, its pink line standing out against his pale skin.
Nathan’s hand rose. He stopped. No. But the man from beyond the grave caught it, brought it toward the scar. Nathan’s thumb ran along the line in the fore while his trembling fingers brushed the laceration on the back of the neck.
Flesh and blood. Not a ghost. But perhaps he hallucinated so deeply he felt the illusion.
“Mr. Serebus, you are not hallucinating. There was an outbreak on the carrier, but I am very much alive.” Then Albin smiled, genuine, full of relief and welcome.
A laugh of joy tore from Nathan. Before he could move, Albin pulled him into a tight embrace, right hand gripping the hair on the back of Nathan’s scalp.
Half crying, half laughing Nathan held his friend.
Then the guilt crashed in. It dragged his heart down while driving daggers. Nathan squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and grief. “I apologize. I am so, so sorry.”
“I cannot remember precisely when, but I have forgiven you, sir. Now, we must move on and save what remains of our lives and the world.”
Sniffing, Nathan stood back, holding his friend at arm’s length. “As usual, you speak wisely. You would make a fine adviser.” Wry smile.
“Are you offering a position?” came the off-handed response.
“An opening recently became available if you are interested.”
“I believe it would suit me well.”
“Excellent!” Smile turned to grin. He slapped Albin on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard. Now, shall we get to business?”
“By all means, sir.”
Looking up at the humans, Judge yipped.
Chapter 81
Gray Fox
The Wolves – Cyrus Reynolds
Nathan, Albin, and Judge trotted toward Gate 4. The men and dog kept close to the wall. Exhilaration thrilled through Nathan’s core. After so many false starts and true sins, he at last reunited with his best friend. Together they could face any challenge and emerge victorious. God had brought them together to rise as conquerors. But he had not conquered. He had yet to even escape.
Running footsteps echoed behind. Nathan’s stomach clinched. The horde that had passed the bathroom now charged him.
“This way, into the United Club.” Nathan cut right, key out. Hurry up and unlock! Albin raised his rifle for a last stand.
The cannibals stampeded into view in the concourse.
Open! He shouldered in, relocking the doors after Albin and Judge followed. Not pausing to see if the creatures followed them, Nathan dashed to the nearest Club suite—the same he, Sophia, and Birk visited less than forty-five minutes ago.
He waved Albin through the door, then slammed it behind. There, relatively safe at last. “Albin,” he panted, “I wasn’t able to shut down the satellite transceivers. I took one, but the FBI arrived and delivered their notice of betrayal before I could finish it. Perhaps they completed the job, but I doubt it.”
“If you made a plea deal with them, it is highly unusual for them to betray you, even with a military tribunal. However, given the precarious situation of the nation, they may have waived usual protocol.”
Nathan shook his head. “Highly unusual seems to be the new usual.”
Fingers idly brushing Judge’s head, Albin surveyed their surroundings. “They provided me court documents, but I am unsure how much of the information is factual. They claim you were sentenced to serve your term in a New York Federal detention facility. That is obviously inaccurate. Fortunately.” He gave a slight smile.
“Is it?” Nathan’s jaw tightened as he faced his relative. “Know that I am doing my best to make restitution for my sins. I’m reaping what I sowed for my betrayal.” He turned away, unable to look into the glacial eyes. The alternative to meeting the cool, emotionless gaze—the stadium of cannibals—ranked little better.
“Guilt is of no use, as you have pointed out on many occasions, sir. Repentance and recompense, however, are invaluable.”
The words came as ice to the ache in Nathan’s soul. “Thank you.” On so many levels.
“Yes, sir.”
“Albin, how did you come to be here? How did you know where to find me? Washington said you died in an altercation on the ship.”
“Your old friend Kenichi Oshiro has been quite useful of late. He is of course still playing his game, but at times being a pawn is acceptable if it moves one in the correct direction.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if we will ever cease being pawns.” A weary smile followed Nathan’s words.
“At times, sir, the best we can do is to choose the player for whom we move.”
“And perhaps influence their plays.” Nathan opened his mouth to add that he did not appreciate playing for Ken again, when Albin’s phone rang. No, not Albin’s, unless he had switched his default ringtone to the same as Nathan’s phone’s.
The attorney produced the device from a pocket, then displayed the number: Restricted.
Nathan reclaimed his phone. The warm, smooth device’s weight brought a wave of relief. Control, connection, options. He swiped the answer icon. “Nathan here.”
“Is this a Damned, a Dog, or a Demon? Or is it a dark god?”
“Ken.” Anger, curiosity, and confusion surged within Nathan. “Albin and I were just talking about you.” He forced a tight smile. It would come through in his voice, affecting dominance even as he watched the cannibals crawl like cockroaches over the arena. He switched to speaker phone.
“Neither of you managed to shut down the broadcast. But at least Albin completed his bonus mission of finding you. Well, there’s just one thing to do now, and that’s to come to the Oshiro.”
“Your compound? California’s a bit out of our way.”
“The Oshiro I refer to is a fortress of the gods, but not my house. Rest assured, it is a fitting location for gods to meet.”
“Where is it?”
“Oh, come now. You can do better than that.” Ken refusing to give a straight answer? How surprising.
“I’m assuming it’s a location I’m aware of and where LOGOS is. In that case, the Mercury building at the Garden of the Gods.”
“See there? I knew you’d come through if you tried.”
As Ken babbled, Albin wore an expression of long-suffering apology.
“Will you be in attendance?”
“Oh, Nathan, you know I don’t enjoy social functions. But other VIPs will be there tomorrow morn, around ten o’clock. In fact, you might have a little family reunion.”
What? Nathan looked to Albin, who shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about, Ken?”
“Have you heard of Gray Fox?”
It sounded familiar. Ah, yes, Dr. Wong. “Briefly.” She had mentioned the gray fox when she listed the people for whom Nathan might work as a mercenary.
“When you find Gray Fox, you will find your benefactor. He may be closer than you believe.”
“I’m going to need a few more clues than that.”
“All righty. The fox you outfoxed will stop at nothing to destroy you in the most humiliating way he can. He is, as I said, your benefacto
r, the man who kept you from getting killed when Red Chief by right should have slit your and Albin’s throats and thrown your bodies to the cannibals. Come on, it’s not a fun game if you don’t try!”
Try to not punch the wall? “I really do not know to whom you are referring.”
“No? Would your lovely wife, perhaps?”
Nathan froze. Cold rippled down his back. “What are you talking about? Is she in danger? Has she been captured? What do you know?” Only the prospect of looking too rattled before Ken prevented him from roaring the last question.
“I know less about her than you would think. Ah, I can’t just give this away. It’s too delicious. You need to work for it.”
“Fox,” Albin murmured, abstracted. “Fox. Family reunion. Janine.”
“Your benefactor is no coward.”
“Is that a clue?”
“Everything is a clue, it just depends on what the mystery is.”
“No coward?”
“He’s not a man to surrender.”
“Surrender,” Albin breathed. “Synonyms: quit, give up, submit, bow, kneel—”
“Family reunion?” In frustration, Nathan ground his fist into the back of the nearest chair.
Then the answer burst across his consciousness and with the power of an exploding sun. “No.” His spine pulled straight as a tremor rattled his teeth. Pins and needles tingled in his extremities. Ken must be mistaken. Or a liar. “Do you mean . . .” He swallowed. “Neil Crevan?” One, two, three—He grabbed the chair for support.
“Crevan,” Albin mused, “means fox.”
“Hah, very quick, both of you! However, I did give you plenty of clues. But that’s only because we don’t have much time.”
“If you are lying to me, Ken, I will find you—”
“I am not, and you will not. I’m not afraid of you anyway.”
Nathan clutched the phone in his numb fingers. My father-in-law is involved in LOGOS? “He is . . . my benefactor?”
“I only use that term because it’s the closest thing I can come to describing how he cares about your fate and doesn’t want you killed. It is a bit misleading, though, because it overlooks the bit about him wanting to destroy you. Maybe you can think of a better term when you see him again.”
