The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes

by Harlow, Jennifer

  I keep hacking until I can breathe again. “W-Where am I?”

  “Don’t play dumb, gorgeous,” Bennett chides. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “About two hours. Same as I was.”

  “So this was revenge? I drug you, you drug me?”

  “I know how important equality and fairness are to you,” he says with that goddamn smile of his. He pats the two men at the desk on their shoulders. “Guys, why don’t you continue that in the next room? My lover and I need privacy.” The men unplug their computers and rise. Duncan doesn’t move. “You as well, Duncan.”

  “Sir, should you—”

  “She’s tied to a chair. Just wait outside the door. If you hear screaming—well, my screaming—then come in. But only then.”

  Duncan glares at me, but begins toward the door. “Yes, sir.”

  Bennett’s smirking eyes never leave me as the men depart. Duncan slams the door behind me and the loud noise makes me jump. With whatever they injected in me, and the normal adrenaline boost I tend to get when in mortal danger, I’m trembling and my heart beats double time. Bennett grabs a chair from the desk and begins dragging it toward me. “You know…when I fantasized about tying you up, and having you at my mercy, this is not what I had in mind.” He sits about three feet away, just out of range of my legs if I choose to kick him.

  “How long did you have people following me?”

  “Since you left the mansion. For this very contingency. In case you hadn’t noticed, I place great importance on contingency plans.” He folds his arms across his chest. “So, I have questions for you, and I am positive you have many for me. Since I too find equality and fairness paramount, we will take turns. I’ll begin if you don’t mind. We’ve found no evidence the government is aware of my involvement with the virus. All we have found in your computer are emails to private accounts. So who knows about me, gorgeous?”

  “It’s been two hours. My people could have sent all the intel to anyone by now. Especially if I’ve gone missing. Everyone at the end of those private accounts know who you are and what you’ve done. You’re fucked.”

  He twitches. “What precisely do you have?”

  “You have my computer. You know. Everything. I made copies of all the files in your safe and downloaded both SIM cards and laptops. Every company, every transaction, every dirty deed, over a dozen people now have access to it. All your planning, all your contingencies, its all gone down the tubes because of one errant supervillain and your need to get laid.”

  The sides of his mouth twitch. “And Dr. Sharpesh. Where is he?”

  “In a lab somewhere under heavy guard creating a cure. I don’t know what lab if that’s your next question. I didn’t ask. My allies are big on compartmentalizing. There’ll be a cure in days. It’s over, Bennett. You’re about to become the planet’s most wanted man. If you were half as intelligent as I thought you were, you’d be halfway to Brazil starting life under a new identity.”

  “Obviously I have planned my disappearance—I would be a fool not to—but some things supersede the life of one man. In the grand scheme, what is my existence versus the millions my actions will save?” He scoffs. “You of all people should understand that, Jo. How many times have you risked your life for that very tenant?”

  “Don’t you dare fucking compare us, asshole. What you’ve done is-is…monstrous. It’s genocide, Bennett.”

  “No, it’s simple arithmetic. Kill one million to save ten. You’re a pragmatist. Can you really discount those numbers?” He leans in closer to me. “You were there that night at the theater. That girl, that innocent girl, died in our arms for the simple crime of going to a film. White Knight didn’t give her a single thought when the supposed hero was allegedly trying to save the city. All he saved was his pride for not letting his opponent best him. He’s a murderer lauded as a hero. Th-There’s no accountability. No one puts them in check and innocents suffer. No. I say no. Not on my watch.”

  “By your logic, Bennett, I should want all men dead on the off chance they’ll commit rape. Maybe we should kill all the poor because they commit the most crimes. Where does it fucking end, Stone? What right do you have to play God?”

  “The job was vacant,” he says before shaking his head. “You know, as a victim of their crimes, I really thought you could at least open your mind a little and see where I’m coming from. Justin Pendergast and Jem Ambrose both dragged you into their hells. You were beaten, broken, betrayed because of their little power games. Can you honestly tell me your life has been enriched by your involvement with these men?”

  “Yes,” I say, leaning forward. “Abso-fucking-lutly. You know why? Because they showed me what sacrifice is. What love is. They helped me realize you can either overcome the shit hand you got dealt or let it corrupt you. Your family died, Bennett. And I’m sorry, I truly am, but I lost my family too. I lost my father, my mother, my best friend, hell my whole fucking life more than once. But you don’t see me using my wealth and power to punish innocent people, innocent children who had no choice in being born different just to avenge something they had nothing to do with.”

  “Vengeance doesn’t factor into this, Jo,” he insists.

  “Bullshit. If your sister died in a terrorist bombing you wouldn’t have created a virus to go after Arabs? If the mafia put out a hit on them it wouldn’t be Italians facing extinction? You may need to dress it up as altruism to get through the day, but from where I’m sitting this is just a damaged, sad, angry little boy lashing out. And I would know. More than once in my life I was you.” I catch his weary eyes. “And that’s how I also know you can come back from this, Bennett. There is still good in you. I’ve seen it. You were a friend when I truly needed one. I’ve seen how you are with your friends. How wonderful you were with that girl in her final moments. You’ve just let hate corrupt you. I’ve been there, but if I could fight it back, you can too. Right here. Right now. There’s still time to call this off and just go. Run. You can just…let it go. Let the hate go and live your life.”

  “Are you trying to save me, Joanna? Or are you trying to save them? Him? Your fiancée?” He breaks eye contact and shakes his head again. “Ten years. This has been my life’s mission, my life’s work for ten years. And what brings it almost crashing down? The one time I put myself before the project. When I heard you were infected, I made sure you had the serum. Because I couldn’t bear for you to suffer even a little because of my actions. Because I care about you. Even now. And I even believe you still care about me. So I am really trying to get you to see the light on this.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do, Bennett? I do care about you. And I do know why you think you have to do this. But you don’t. This will not bring your family back. It will not bring Molly or Ariana back. All this will do is turn you into the biggest monster the world has ever seen. Your family, your legacy will be mired in hatred and cursed forever. And while you watch children cough up blood, while you listen to your victim’s sobs and pleas to God for deliverance, you will realize just how wrong you were.” I pause and close my eyes. “I don’t believe this is who you truly are. I don’t. And I know, I know the man I laughed with, cried with, who comforted a scared girl, my friend is in there begging you to stop this. Listen to us, playboy. Trust us.” I open my eyes again. “This is it, Bennett. The moment. The moment when you decide: darkness or light. Hate or forgiveness. Rise above…or fall.”

  My friend’s eye twitches, and I think I’ve gotten through. That the man I hoped he was is inside there. That even the greatest sinner can be redeemed. But the corners of his mouth fall with disappointment, I know I’m wrong. My heart breaks a little inside my chest. Damn it. Some people are just too far gone. “There is no talking to you, is there? Stubborn as hell even now. I admire that about you. I do. Holding strong to your convictions. But you can only see black and white, Jo. The world is gray, gorgeous. Always has been and always will be.” H
e rises from the chair. “I don’t know if what I’m doing is right or wrong. I can only trust my instincts. ‘The only way for evil to win is for good men to do nothing.’ I will not do nothing anymore.” His handsome face falls. “My only regret is what I have to do now. Please know I didn’t want this. I did all in my power to make sure it didn’t. What has to happen now…you will haunt me until my dying day, Jo,” he says, voice brittle. “You’re a hell of a woman. A good friend. We could have…” He sadly smiles as his face almost crumbles from regret. “But this is bigger than you and I. This is the right thing. This is how it has to be.” He starts toward the door. “I don’t believe you about Dr. Sharpesh. Maybe Duncan and his bag of tricks will have better luck. I’m sorry, Jo. From the depths of my soul, I am sorry. I’ll miss the hell out of you. Good-bye, gorgeous. Bye.”

  He walks out of the office, shutting the door behind himself. Shit. Shit. God knows how long it’ll take someone to get here, if they even remember I have the tracker. Hell, who knows if the damn thing still works. Fuck. Think. I attempt to pull against the zip ties, but they’re so tight I can barely feel my fingers. I damn sure feel the rope burns as I struggle against my binds. Double fuck. No go. Hands are out for the moment. Legs, you’re up. I rock back and forth in the chair until the momentum helps me to my feet. Yes! Alright, I—

  The door handle jangles and the door begins opening again. Shit. I’m still more or less helpless, even on my feet. On instinct I sit back down just as Duncan enters, carrying a black satchel. The bald, dour hulk barely glances at me as he makes his way to the desk.

  “We have limited time, Miss Fallon,” the Brit says. He sets the satchel on the desk, unrolling it to reveal syringes, scalpels, knives, pliers, everything a torturer could need. It’s here. Bile rises into my throat. Okay, here comes the terror. It’s been creeping forward and is almost here. “We’ve rigged the facility to vaporize and the boss fears your friends are closing in.” He removes the pliers and a knife from the collection. I saw the pictures of what happened to the prison guard Garr to get the codes and key. Flayed, cut, lost fingernails, broken limbs. My breath catches. “So I’m afraid the psychological dance I normally perform is canceled.”

  “Please. Don’t,” I gasp.

  The veins in his neck bulge as his jaw tightens with disapproval. And a flash of inspiration from the lizard, Neanderthal part of my brain fills my terrified mind. Okay. Okay. Yeah. I can do it. I already did once. No choice then, no choice now. I start breathing heavily, almost panting as he stops a few feet in front of me. He holds up the pliers and knife. “Fingernails or flaying? The choice is yours.”

  I can do it. I can do it.

  Still panting as if I’ve climbed a mountain twice in a row, I gaze down and mumble to myself. I can do this. “I-I’m sorry?” Duncan asks. I mumble again, softer this time. He moves closer, but I don’t look up. “Say that again.” I mutter in a whisper this time. He’s right by my face now, so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. He presses the knife’s tip against my chin. “I said speak up—”

  Now!

  As fast as possible, before I lose my nerve, I bite into his neck like an alligator leaping out of the water to catch its prey. I bite. Hard. Hot blood fills my mouth, spilling down my chin as the man howls in agony. He pulls away, leaving a large chunk of flesh in my mouth as blood spews all over him down to the floor. He only makes it one step before, with all my might, I kick him in the balls. Once. Twice. Three times until the motherfucker falls to his knees in his own blood. I take all of a moment to spit out the hunk of meat before rocking forward to my feet. The henchman barely has time to register I’m mobile before I twist at my hip and swing the chair right into his face. He finally falls to his back, dazed. I stare at him, my breath still coming out in pants as the adrenaline courses through my every cell. “I said, this is for Garr asshole.”

  He reaches for his side arm. Fine. Without hesitation, I position the side of the chair right above his already ravaged throat and bring the fucker down on his windpipe with the full force of my weight. Bones, tendons, cartilage all crack. Nothing. I’m beyond feelings. His hands seize several seconds, trying to move the chair, to claw my legs until they cease moving completely. Until he’s dead. I throw up all over the floor a second later.

  I only grant my body and mind ten seconds to recover before the Neanderthal gains control again. I hurry over to the desk and fumble to retrieve a knife. Thirty seconds and many bleeding cuts later, the first zip tie comes off with the second a moment later. “Okay, okay,” I pant to myself. Second order of business. I rinse out my mouth and wash off the blood from my chin. Okay, a plan. I need a plan. I pick up the phone on the desk but there’s no dial tone. Fuck. I need to get out of here. The place is set to blow. That’s why they’re packing up. I need—

  Fuck. Shit. It’ll all be gone. The data for the cure. Where they intend to send the virus. And Bennett. If he leaves here, he’ll never be seen again. Even if I get the data out and Dr. Sharpesh develops a cure, if he’s out there in the world, he can start again. Ten years from now we could be right back here with no warning this time. No. This has to end. Tonight.

  As I clean off the blood, I watch the surveillance monitors. Things are slowing down in the warehouse. No more canisters moving around, no more vans outside. People in lab coats and Hazmat suits still filter up and down the halls. Where are you asshole? Where…there. In camera 113 Bennett, a woman in a lab coat, and the two computer nerds from before stand in another office. One of the nerds hands something small from the computer to Bennett, who pats the man on the back, before walking out with the lab coat. A moment later I see Bennett step into the hallway and hurry down it, chatting with the woman. Two huge men in black join the walking duo, flanking them. Okay.

  A spare white lab coat is draped over the desk chair. I slip it on. It covers some of the wet blood on my shirt but everyone seems too busy to pay each other much attention. It’ll have to do. It also covers the knives I put in each pocket and the dead man’s gun I clip to the waist of my pants. God willing I won’t need them. I’m so into ransacking the corpse I don’t notice the cell phone in his pocket until I’ve already stood. Thank you, Jesus. I dial Justin’s cell first but it switches to voice mail. “Justin, it’s Jo. I-I’m in the facility. I don’t know where exactly. I-I’ve turned on my tracker. Follow it. I…They’re-They’re-It’s going to blow up. I need to find Bennett. I…just get here, okay? Bye.” I hang up and dial 911 this time.

  “911 what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

  “He-Hello, this is Joanna Fallon. I-I’ve been kidnapped. I-I’m…I don’t know where I am. Somewhere in Poplarville, I think. A man’s been killed. And th-there’s some sort of bio-terrorism event about to occur.”

  “Ma’am, slow down,” the woman says.

  I take a breath to calm myself. “Listen, you need to contact whoever is in charge of the Xavier Prison break and Dr. Robert Vaugh at the Health Department. Tell them the virus is shipping right now. One or two white panel vans are loaded with live virus. Level 4 biohazard. We also need the bomb squad. This facility is rigged to blow once the personnel have cleared. Could be five minutes or an hour, I don’t know. Responders need to remain out of sight or they could detonate this place prematurely. Bennett Stone. This was all Bennett Stone of Independence. He’s behind it all. He attempted to kill me. Contact all airports, helipads, private airfields, train stations and see if he’s filed a flight plan.”

  “Miss Fallon, can you help us find your exact location? Do you see a piece of mail or—”

  “No. I need to move from this room. I’m putting the phone in my pocket. Trace it.”

  I slip the phone into my pocket with the knife, take a deep breath, and step into the hallway. It’s relatively empty, only about three people, but I keep my head down and walk with purpose past them. Look like you belong, act like you belong, nine times out of ten no one will question you. The problem is I have no idea where I’m going inside
this generic office building with my hip aching with every step. I have to turn around twice before I find room 113. Unholstering the gun, I turn the handle and step inside. The two computer nerds glance behind them to me, or really at the raised gun pointed at them. The man with his paws on Doris Jr. raises them up in surrender.

  “Holy shit,” the other says.

  “Put your hands up too,” I order.

  The trembling man obeys. “D-Don’t—”

  “I need access to the facility’s records. Everything on the virus, dispersal plans, projections, shipping records, and destinations.”

  “I-I can’t—”

  I cock the hammer back and press the gun against his forehead. He closes his eyes and whimpers. “This is not a request, asshole.”

  “No, h-he really can’t,” the other says. “Mr. Motoneslly had him purge the system. Ev-Everything is being deleted right now.”

  “Then stop it.”

  “I-I-I-I-I can’t,” the nerd says. “O-Once the program st-starts, it can’t be shut off. It’s mostly deleted now anyway.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…I take a step back. “Was it sent to another server somewhere? Is there a back-up?” The nerds exchange a worried glance. Fine. I press the barrel against his head again. “Asshole, do not test my patience right now.”