by LC Champlin
“But, sir, he has brought you into play. He considers you to be a dark god as well.” Albin turned back to surveying the darkness as his friend sauntered up beside him. “He no doubt intends to test you.”
“He underestimates who he’s dealing with. My God is not one god among many. ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord.’ And, ‘Ye shall have no other gods before Me.’”
A few weeks ago, Albin would have sighed and shook his head at the idea of God taking an interest in humanity. But now he only continued to gaze at the stones that protruded from the earth like silent witnesses. If one used a loose interpretation of the word miracle, one could describe many of the past weeks’ events as such.
“I know you think I’m insane for attributing our survival and our numerous reunions to God.” Mr. Serebus paused, perhaps waiting for an argument. When none came, he continued, “But you must admit, this is more than our efforts and even the odd workings of chance. Here we are, despite many near-death experiences and lapses of sanity.” He eyed Albin. “There are two kinds of doubters. Honest doubters and dishonest doubters.”
“Oh?”
“Honest doubters seek the truth. Dishonest doubters run from it. They can’t find it for the same reason a thief can’t find a police officer. Which are you?”
“A weary doubter.” Albin strode back inside.
++++++++++++
Jume 7, 2016—
In the kitchen, Nathan made a final review of the plan. Ah, the plan—as shaky and tenuous as the card tables on which it rested.
Sophia sidled up, backpack in hand. “Are you ready for this?”
“Are you?” He looked over at her. “One miscalculation—”
“Our other options fucking suck.”
“Agreed.”
“I thought you might want this back.” As she spoke, she worked a book free from her pack. His Bible.
“Thank you,” he murmured, accepting it.
“Take care of it.” With a halfsmile, she departed, back into the rear bedroom.
++++++++++++
June 7, 2016—
That morning, Albin woke to the mountain breeze slipping through the Renegade’s half-open window. He and Bridges had opted to steal a few minutes sleep here before the mission began. Operating in a semi sleep-deprived state would not increase their chances of success.
Silence save for the caw of crows filled his ears. No howls, yips, or other sounds of wolves greeted him. A smile grew on his lips. He had found Fenrir. Now he must see that the Eater of Worlds saved his world.
Albin exited the vehicle. At his appearance, a murder of crows flapped into the sky, abandoning the animal carcass beside the road. Overhead, seven vultures circled. He gave them a nod of approval.
++++++++++++
Jume 7, 2016—
Amanda shook her head as she watched the others ready their gear. “I’m still not sure what you plan to achieve. Are you going to kill them? Why don’t you just call the authorities? I know they weren’t the most helpful at the stadium, but perhaps they’ll listen this time. You said the DHS told you to call them, right?”
Checking the magazines in his plate-carrier pouches, Nathan grunted. “If they weren’t able to do the job there, I doubt they’ll be able to do the job here. LOGOS and the government work together to an extent, and I’m certain that’s why the stadium was a loss for us. From what you said about FBI agents kidnapping you, I think it’s safe to assume the FBI is not your friend. They most assuredly are not mine.” If he ever found Saito in a dark alley, the bastard had better hope his fellow rats would aid him.
Nathan moved on to check the rounds in his weapons. “As for the DHS, I do not trust them either. Rodriguez may have let us go, but I’m not sure if she did so from her personal loyalties, or from orders.
“My job is to find proof LOGOS is working against the good of society, and then to help stop the cannibals. I’m tired of relying on the government only to be betrayed.” With effort, he kept his gaze from flicking to Albin at the word betrayed.
“The plan is just so dangerous,” Amanda sighed. Standing with her arms crossed, she surveyed him and the others like a mother watching her children prepare to leave for a college she didn’t approve of.
Nathan slid his Glock into its holster on his thigh. “You’re correct, but it’s the best we can do on short notice and even shorter resources.”
“We are fortunate,” Albin added, “to have what we do.”
“But taking hostages?”
The attorney shrugged. “I am a willing hostage, and one about which Neil Crevan claims to care.”
“The danger—”
“Guys!” Denver called from the kitchen, which overlooked the driveway. “There are black SUVs coming down the road. I don’t think they’re here to deliver the mail, either.”
“There’s a helicopter out over the mountains,” Taylor added from her post in one of the bedrooms.
Nathan and Albin exchanged glances. “Let’s go.”
The scramble for gear ensued, with everyone grabbing the nearest duffle bag and their weapons.
“Get to the vehicles and get on the road,” Nathan ordered.
He snapped up the keys before Sophia could, then led the way out the rear door. The others piled after him, weapons up and hopefully not aiming at the back of his head.
The chopper—a civilian type—roared out of the mountains. It sped toward them.
“Get in the vehicles!” Nathan charged around the mobile home—just as the two Suburbans skidded to a halt in front of the driveway.
Chapter 85
Dogs Have Surrounded
Iron and Gold – featuring Michael Smith, TJ Stafford, & Nine One One
Gunfire rattled from the sky. The chopper, with the side door open and a man leveling a rifle at the fugitives.
Nathan threw the Escape’s rear door open as he lunged for the front. “Move!” He had the vehicle rolling before the doors could slam shut.
“We’re in!” Behrmann gasped from the backseat.
The last word had barely left her mouth when Nathan stepped on the accelerator. The SUV shot forward, on the tail of Albin’s Renegade. Hopefully everyone had found a ride.
“Headcount,” Nathan demanded, attention locked on the vehicles ahead. He swerved, throwing dust and sand in the air as the paramilitary men from the Suburbans raised their black rifles to target him.
“Birk’s here,” Sophia announced. “Did the others—”
“Yes.” Relief in Behrmann’s voice.
The chopper outpaced the group, its rotors thrumming in Nathan’s chest. Behind, the Suburbans accelerated. Terrorists must feel the same doom when American aircraft bore down on them.
“They’re going to try to PIT us!” Sofia rolled down the window, pistol in hand.
“Jo,” Nathan snapped, “radio Albin and tell him to head toward where we planned. Then contact the police and any other agency that might be interested in an armed helicopter in their airspace.”
++++++++++++
The helicopter’s shadow sped across the land, into the highway ahead like the silhouette of a raptor hunting a rabbit.
Behind, two more black SUVs pulled onto the highway. They accelerated, forcing Albin to push the Renegade to ninety-five miles per hour.
“They’re going to keep chasing us,” Amanda hissed from the backseat, where she guarded her children. “They’re not going to give up. We can’t escape them this way. It’ll be like the car chases on TV, except these people want to kill us.”
An idea blazed in Albin’s mind. A terrible idea, one born of absolute desperation. He worked his mobile free of his pocket, then handed it and the battery to Amanda. “Power it on, open Contacts, then give it to me.”
She clicked the battery inside. “Who are you calling? The police?”
“Someone who can assist us.” He accepted the proffered device. “Dial I-C-D-E,” he instructed it.
“What does that mean?” asked Taylor.
“Patience.”
It rang once, twice, then—“Albin Conrad? Is that you, my lad?” Neil Crevan answered, pleased.
Yes, unfortunately and humiliatingly. Albin had never before needed to phone his In Case of Dire Emergency contact. “Yes, sir. I request you order the vehicles and helicopter that are currently pursuing us to stand down. We will proceed to the Mercury building. I wish to speak with you face to face . . . regarding Janine. And I believe Mr. Serebus would also like to speak with you.”
Laughter rang from the other end, stronger than any the man had managed for a number of years. “About time you came around, lad!”
++++++++++++
Sophia lowered her Sig slightly as she aimed at the SUV. “They’re dropping back. And the helicopter’s not right on top of us anymore. What the hell?”
The radio in Josephine’s hand hissed. “This is Albin. Do you copy, sir?”
Eyes on the road, Nathan snatched the HT from her hand. “Albin, I copy. What’s going on?”
“I was left with no choice, sir. My apologies.”
“What are you talking about?” Cold formed in Nathan’s lumbar spine. It worked its way upward into his chest.
“We both desire to speak with Neil Crevan. We are about to receive our wish.”
“You mean . . .”
“Yes. They are now our escorts and will act as such unless we veer from the course to the Mercury building. I have informed them already that Sophia has you in custody.”
“I see. Thank you, Albin. You’re always thinking outside the box.”
A variation on the plan, but as they said, plans never survive fully intact their first contact with the enemy.
Adapt, advance, achieve.
Evolve, attack, dominate.
Teeth gritted, Nathan let out a breath. One, two, three—“I fucking hate family reunions.”
++++++++++++
The convoy pulled into the familiar driveway in front of the Garden of the Gods. Like the previous time Nathan had visited, the chill of facing judgment rattled over him, just as it had when he stood before the tribunal.
The chopper remained overhead, while the Suburbans boxed in the two target SUVs. Operatives in combat accoutrements exited their vehicles, weapons leveled at the offenders.
Birk looked down in defeat. “We can’t stop these people. They’re going to win.”
“Shut up, Birk,” Sophia grunted as she stepped from the Escape.
She circled around the front of the vehicle, then pulled Nathan’s door open. He stepped out, hands raised. Next she ushered Birk and Josephine out. Her pistol covered the trio.
“Keep your hands up,” one of the men holding an AR ordered them. “You in the other vehicle, exit slowly with your hands up.”
The doors opened, disgorging Albin, the Musters, and Bridges. The economist held Judge’s leash in his raised hand.
With everyone out, the victorious bastards moved in to secure their hostages.
“Neil Crevan wants us unharmed,” Albin reminded.
“So do I,” Sophia barked. “I want to get my paycheck.”
“Of course you do, Sophia.” That voice—Sarge? Lexa had said he guarded this installation.
The hulking man stepped from the entrance and into the sunlight. Nearly bald save for a millimeter of hair and with a bodybuilder’s physique, he looked at first like a dull-witted thug. But in his eyes shone the intelligence of a cagey warrior. His presence drove home the final nail in the already well-secured coffin. Then again, a well-placed crowbar could open even the tightest lid.
“Sarge,” Nathan greeted him. “Fancy seeing you again.”
“Serebus.” He swung in behind the group as they trooped in.
The receptionist looked up as they entered. Ah, the woman who had given Nathan access previously. Good, they hadn’t killed her for allowing him in.
Sarge pulled alongside Sophia. “You thought it would be funny to fuck my guys over. You’re lucky the boss didn’t know it was you.”
“I had to earn Serebus’s trust somehow,” she rejoined.
“You couldn’t resist showing off your sniper skills. They’re supposed to be for cops, not us.”
Nathan’s head snapped about. Sniper, Sarge . . . now it made sense. “Sophia, were you the one who killed those DHS officers in Avalon?” The same officers who had partnered with Judge.
All this time, Nathan had traveled with and fought beside a cop killer and cold-blooded murderer? What did you expect? reason sneered. She’s a mercenary who works with Lexa Birk. And if she worked with Sarge, she had committed other crimes, such as weapons dealing and human trafficking.
“Move.” She shoved him on the shoulder. No apology or regret in her eyes.
Chapter 86
Tongue a Sharp Sword
Fight – All Good Things
Ahead, more guards arrived. They herded Josephine to join Albin’s group. He stood proud as they patted him down and disarmed him. The others received the same treatment.
“Come on, this way.” The thugs marched Albin and his companions toward the entrance to the building proper. He lost none of his noble bearing. They seemed more like bodyguards of a VIP than prison guards of a captive.
The other security forces, or rather the mercenaries, surrounded Nathan and Birk. A pat-down followed. Nathan and his vehicle’s passengers had already surrendered their weapons to Sophia to maintain the cover story. He ignored the injustice, attention on the door through which Albin had disappeared.
Sarge nodded to Sophia, then gave Nathan a smirk. “Let’s go. You have an appointment.”
“I wouldn’t want to be late for a very important date.” Down the rabbit hole to see the madness that lay below. Don’t lose your head.
Sarge led the way into the elevator. The descent passed in silence, Sophia refusing to make eye contact with either Nathan or Birk. Sarge kept careful watch on them, his face as set as a stone gargoyle’s, but he in no way guarded them from evil. Birk grew paler with each heartbeat as the car descended two floors.
When the doors opened, Sophia shoved her captives out. Birk’s shoulders slumped, his head hung.
Nathan, however stood with the dignity of a king being led to execution. No surrender. Had Sophia truly turned on him? No matter. God had led him here for a reason. That reason did not include dying at the hands of the enemy.
The bull-necked Sarge escorted the men into a dorm room that resembled Nathan’s New Mexico Pen cell, except that it contained two cots, two desks, and a mini fridge.
“Home sweet home,” Birk sneered. “Again.”
“I thought you’d feel more comfortable in your old place,” Sarge responded.
While a snide so kind of you seemed a natural response, the researcher held his tongue.
“Don’t get too comfortable; you have a visitor.” Sarge turned to face down the hall, from whence sounded footsteps.
A tall, dark-skinned man with close-cropped black hair and beard stepped into view. His white teeth flashed in a grin below his long, straight nose and dark eyes. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Serebus and Dr. Birk.”
Sri Cheel. Bassam. Terrorist chief in the Istiqaamah cell of ISIS.
Every fiber of Nathan’s being, every muscle, tensed. Kill the terrorist bastard! Jump on his fucking throat and tear it out! Slam his head into the concrete wall and keep slamming until only pulp remained.
Recovering, teeth gritted, Nathan raised his chin to better look down his nose at the murderer. “So you did survive. I would expect nothing less.”
Beside Nathan, Birk went rigid. Hate rolled from him as a growl escaped, low like a bear’s.
“I hear,” Cheel began, “that you have received a plea deal from the US government because they believe, thanks to your quite convincing performance, you are able to stop the cannibal outbreak. However, it seems you have failed to do so
despite having the resources of Los Alamos and access to the Sports Authority Field during the test phase.” The grin remained, but it turned mocking.
“Show me a laboratory. Birk and I will prove my claim.” Nathan matched the grin. “There’s a project I’ve been developing that will surprise even you. It’s been staring you in the face this whole time, and it will be the downfall of your plan.” Bite, damn you, Cheel!
At his side, the researcher pulled himself together. “Yes, let us prove his claim. You wanted me working here for a reason, didn’t you? It wasn’t just because I’m a Birk and so gave you leverage against my sister.”
“Ha!” Cheel clapped his hands once. “Very good, very good! I expected nothing less than defiance from the two of you. It seems you have also formed an alliance. It is pleasing to see you act as mature adults.”
Sarge and Sophia watched the exchange, emotionless. Cheel turned to them. “I will take these men up on their offer. It will prove diverting. It will also amuse my colleagues when I tell them of the results.” The eccentric fucker never could resist a mystery.
The mercs flanked the captives while Cheel trailed them. He knew better than to walk in front, turning his back on the wolf. The group entered one of the laboratories. It resembled the lab Birk had occupied when Nathan arrived to retrieve him.
This one held more intriguing equipment: Racks for pipetting samples, as well as pipettes themselves; nozzles for Bunsen burners; various glassware. Though smaller, this lab seemed to hold more of the white, boxy machines.
“Well?” Cheel prompted, his tone pleasant, as if he waited for a colleague to tell a joke. “What are you going to show me, my cocky friends?”
“Would you really have killed me?” Birk demanded, glaring at the terrorist. “Even knowing Lexa is my sister?”
The terrorist shrugged. “If it had been expedient, and it was. But now you seem to be more useful as a pawn than as a corpse. Thus, you shall live a while longer.”
