CHAPTER 27
“We’re being followed!” Skinny yelled. He reached into a small duffel bag on the floor of the van and pulled out a pipe bomb with a short fuse protruding out of it and a Zippo lighter bearing the inscription “1st Marine Division-Fallujah ’04.”
“Eat this!” Skinny lit the fuse and tossed the pipe bomb out of the side of the van. It hit the pavement and detonated a second later, causing the black sedan in pursuit to swerve to the right. The sedan straightened out and continued its pursuit. Reaper leaned out of the van’s side and squeezed off a short burst with the M-249, causing the black sedan to swerve to the left of the van out of his sight.
“What’s going on back there?” Cyrus leaned out of the front window and looked behind the van but didn’t see anything.
“We got company!” Skinny yelled back.
Suddenly, the van jerked violently to the left. Randy tried hard to keep it straight, but the rear tires had been shot out. The van went off the road and plowed through a two-strand barbed wire fence. A couple of cows grazing near the fence line barely made it out of the way as the van hurtled through the fence, finally coming to rest at the edge of a large pond after hitting a large tree stump with considerable force.
Reaper got out of the van but had to hold onto the side door for support, he felt lethargic and weak still. He raised the M-249 and waited for the black sedan to follow the van through the fence. Skinny retrieved another pipe bomb and poised himself to light the fuse and throw it. Randy and Cyrus staggered out of the van, blood streaming from a cut on the left side of his face and walked to the side sliding door. Smoke began to curl from underneath the hood. The van was covered with bullet holes but had severed its purpose well.
“Too far; I was careless, foolish.” Dr. Keitel spoke aloud to himself as he haphazardly removed clothes from a closet and piled them on the bed. Satisfied that he had enough, he stuffed them into a large Samsonite suitcase he found in the bedroom closet. He had already gathered most of his necessary medical supplies and equipment, stacking it by the front door of the apartment. There was only one problem now: He knew he could not continue to use the black Mercedes, because the police would surely be looking for it, and him. He finished packing, his thoughts now turning to acquiring a new vehicle. It would be easy enough to wait in the parking garage and wait for a tenant to return and appropriate another vehicle by force. A sudden shout from outside in the hallway interrupted the thoughts racing through his mind. He picked up the Glock-17 pistol that belonged to the state trooper he had murdered earlier. The sleek pistol fit comfortably in his sweaty palm.
“Metro police! Search warrant!” The shouting and commotion outside the door indicated the presence of many policemen. Dr. Keitel looked briefly out the window. There was no escape; he was on the third floor, with one exit out of the apartment.
“Metro SWAT! We are coming in!”
“Oh my, how I have failed.” Dejected, Dr. Keitel walked into the study and sat down on the floor next to the decaying body of the coroner, Dr. Jewell. Weeping a single tear, he placed the pistol against his temple and pulled the trigger as the SWAT battering ram smashed the front door inward.
“Nice shooting, Roman.”
“Thanks. I’ve always wanted to shoot out the tires of a moving car.” Roman eased the Crown Vic off the road. A couple of passing cars had stopped, but Roman waved them on. He continued driving through the gap in the fence. Up ahead, he spotted the smoking van. Roman immediately stopped the car. Scotts and Matthias immediately jumped out and ran into the brush, out of sight.
“What the hell?” Roman exclaimed. “Where are they going?”
“Relax,” Cruwell replied. “They’ve done this sort of thing before.” Suddenly, the front windshield of the Crown Vic was peppered with bullet holes, causing Roman and Cruwell to duck. Both men were showered with shattered glass.
“Get out!” Roman shouted.
Roman and Cruwell each rolled out of the car. Up ahead they could see a large, pale-skinned, tattoo-covered biker firing a machine gun in long bursts. They could also see a couple other bikers firing behind him. Cruwell let loose with short, controlled bursts from his EMR, causing the bikers to take cover. The machine gunner, however, stood his ground. His grip on the weapon seemed to weaken, however, and its bullets started kicking up dirt in front of the Crown Vic. Electro-magnetic rounds, leaving their distinctively colored vapor trails, erupted from the side as Corporal Scotts and Sergeant Matthias opened fire. Skinny was hit immediately, and he fell to the ground screaming, dropping his lit pipe bomb.
“Fire in the hole!” Randy yelled as he tried to get out of the way. Matthias rose up from his position and cut him down with a volley of well- aimed shots. Cyrus returned fire with his AK-47, striking Matthias in the shoulder and right arm. Matthias cried out in pain and dropped his EMR. Scotts pulled him down to the ground just as the pipe bomb detonated. The explosion ignited the bullet-riddled van, which had been leaking fuel from its perforated fuel tank. A ball of fire erupted, and a small mushroom cloud of smoke rose from the wreckage. Charred $100 bills began to swirl up in the warm draft from the fire before floating to the ground. Roman and Cruwell helped Scotts drag Matthias back to the car. They could hear sirens approaching.
“Get him in the car!” Cruwell yelled.
Scotts and Roman dragged Matthias into the back seat of the Crown Vic. He had slipped into semi-consciousness and was bleeding profusely from his wounds. Scotts ran back to Cruwell, leaving Roman to attend to Matthias. Roman made his way to the back of the vehicle and opened the trunk. He retrieved a first aid kit and set to work.
“Where is he?” Scotts asked as he approached Cruwell, who was looking around near the burning van. They circled the area cautiously, their weapons aimed at the ground but at the ready. Suddenly, Scotts cried out, “There he is!”
The pale skin of the Reaper had changed to a bright red. Sweat cascaded down his bald head, clearly stinging his black eyes. He dragged himself slowly away from the wreck. His right leg had been sheared off by the pipe bomb blast, and black ooze flowed freely from the stump. His right arm also was badly cut. Black ooze leaked from his ears and his nostrils as well.
His progress was halted by a boot stepping on his back, pressing him to the ground.
“That’s far enough,” he heard.
Reaper slowly turned onto his back. He saw Cruwell and Scotts staring down at him, their rifles aimed at his midsection. He coughed, sending droplets of black ooze into the air. A smile slowly broke over his scratched face.
“So it ends.” He coughed again.
Cruwell looked over at Scotts, who nodded. They both shouldered their rifles, reaching down and picking Reaper up by the arms and dragging him toward the Crown Vic. Over Reaper’s cries of protest, Cruwell replied, “We’re not done with you yet.”
Roman ran toward them and yelled, “Hurry up!”
Seeing the tangled, bloody mess they were dragging, he said, “How is he still alive?”
“Yeah, a sight to behold,” Cruwell said. “Get him in the trunk!” The three quickly put Reaper into the trunk of the Crown Vic. Roman got into the driver’s seat, Captain Cruwell in the passenger’s seat, and Scotts in back with Matthias. Roman threw the engine into reverse and backed the car through the hole in the fence. When the vehicle hit the pavement, Roman U-turned southbound. Headed north directly at them were several police cars and two Humvees. A few police cars U-turned and gave chase.
“Where are we going?” Roman asked as he gunned the engine, weaving in and out of traffic.
“Back to your place,” Cruwell answered. “We can activate the trans-mat and get out.” Cruwell looked into the back seat. Matthias was now unconscious; his shoulder and arm bandages were soaked through with blood.
“He doesn’t have much longer; might have hit an artery,” Scotts said. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” Cruwell looked at Scotts, who pointed to Matthias’s bandaged side.
“He’ll make it,”
Cruwell said. “We just need a little more time.”
“Where are they headed?” Colonel Little asked.
The soldier pushed a series of buttons on his terminal. “Colonel, they appear to be headed back to the detective’s apartment.”
“Good. We will intercept them there. We need to try to get a team ahead of them if possible. Relay a different location to the police; I don’t want them to bear witness to our methods of cleanup.”
CHAPTER 28
“I’m almost there, hang on!” Roman yelled as he sped toward his apartment. He took a corner with tires sliding and rubber burning and drove the vehicle up the curb and onto the tiny patch of grass that was his front lawn and came to a halt. Corporal Scotts jumped out and ran to the other side of the vehicle to help Captain Cruwell, who was busy pulling the now semi-conscious Sergeant Matthias out. Roman popped open the trunk and grabbed Reaper’s overheated body, dragging it to the front door.
“Scotts, get the trans-mat online!” Cruwell yelled frantically.
Roman opened the front door to his apartment and ran back to help Cruwell and Matthias. Scotts ran inside the apartment to the trans-mat. Roman noticed a pair of Humvees turning into the apartment complex’s parking lot.
“Damn. We have company.”
Roman pushed Cruwell inside and ran back to the Crown Vic to retrieve his shotgun. “Get inside,” he told the others. “I’ll hold them off!” Cruwell nodded and disappeared inside, dragging Reaper by his arm. A couple of curious neighbors stepped out of their apartments to see what was going on. They quickly ran back inside as Roman opened up with two slug rounds from his shotgun aimed at the nearest Humvee, causing it to swerve and come to a halt. Six soldiers wearing blue berets jumped out, their M-4s at the ready. The other Humvee stopped close by. Five more soldiers got out and took up positions among the cars parked in the parking lot.
A strong wind began to swirl in Roman’s upstairs bedroom as Scotts activated the trans-mat. Cruwell nodded to Scotts, and they both heaved Matthias into the swirling mass of multicolored lights. He disappeared in an instant, leaving no trace behind.
“You’re next, Scotts! The alien goes with you!” Cruwell yelled over the increasingly high-pitched whine of the trans-mat. Cruwell had dragged Reaper upstairs, and his apparently lifeless black eyes stared blankly at the wall.
Scotts looked at Cruwell and shouted, “Hurry! It will overheat! Go get Roman!”
Cruwell nodded as Scotts picked Reaper up under his arms. Scotts took a deep breath and stepped into the lights, immediately disappearing from sight.
“Roman, let’s go!” Cruwell yelled down the stairs. He could hear the gunfire outside.
Roman quickly emptied his shotgun and closed the front door and locked the deadbolt. Rounds from an M-4 impacted the outside of the wall and door, penetrating in some areas sending wood splinters flying. He ran upstairs and immediately froze upon seeing the awesome light display emitting from the trans-mat. The whine was now almost deafening.
“We must go now!” Cruwell yelled over the high-pitched whine. Stupidly, Roman replied, “Where?”
“Back with us. You must decide now!”
An explosion tore through the front door, and they could hear soldiers enter the apartment, preceded by sounds of flash bang grenades detonating in the entryway. The trans-mat slowly started to slow its rotation.
“Hurry!” Cruwell jumped into the light and vanished. Roman stared at the swirling lights before spotting his cat, Morris, cowering under his black futon. Roman ran over and lifted up the futon, grabbing Morris by the scruff of his neck in the process. With one hand holding his shotgun and the other holding Morris, he jumped into the light a split second before it powered off. He vanished just as the soldiers reached the doorway to the bedroom. The lead soldier looked around the empty room and activated his throat mic.
“Colonel, we have a problem.”
The room was a mess from the swirling wind of the trans-mat, and it started to fill with smoke from the overheated trans-mat disk and the flash bang grenades from main room.
With the extra passengers, the shuttle was a bit cramped. Colonel Chuikova had seen the trans-mat activate on the shuttle and grabbed Matthias as he materialized. Taking note of the sergeant’s wounds, he quickly put him into the life support stasis pod. Matthias’s body was instantly frozen, halting the creeping death that was trying to overtake him. Scotts came next, with Reaper. The colonel immediately took their prize and pulled him to the back of the shuttle. Scotts quickly recovered from his trans-mat journey and helped secure Reaper, placing him in the shuttle’s other stasis pod. A few moments later, Cruwell materialized. He stepped back from the trans-mat and stared into it.
Scotts walked up to Cruwell and said, “Is Roman coming?”
“I don’t know, but the trans-mat is almost spent. He’d better come quickly, if he’s going to come.”
The colonel walked up to Scotts. “We need to erase all evidence of us being there.”
“What about Roman? We can’t do that!” Scotts protested. “I have my orders.”
Suddenly, Roman appeared in the trans-mat beam. Cruwell ran over and caught him before he collapsed. Roman clutched Morris tightly to his chest. The cat seemed to fare the trip a lot better than his owner. Scotts looked at the colonel, who simply nodded.
“Do it.”
Scotts hit a sequence of buttons on the shuttle’s trans-mat, and the swirling lights began to reverse themselves. Scotts had accelerated the overheating of the unit on the planet. Smoke began to emit from underneath the device on the shuttle.
Cruwell helped Roman to a bench in the back of the shuttle. Scotts opened a case on the steel-grated floor of the shuttle to show a large, cylindrical device. He twisted the top of the device to activate it. Upon hearing it beep, Scotts tossed the device into the trans-mat beam. He immediately shut off the trans-mat. The swirling lights stopped suddenly, briefly throwing the shuttle into an eerie quiet. The colonel grabbed Scotts by the shoulder.
“What was that?”
“Insurance. In case the trans-mat unit on the planet doesn’t detonate, that bomb I just sent down will ensure it does.”
“Good work. We must leave now. Raus says they have been detected and will soon be engaged.”
Scotts nodded and began to initiate startup of the pulse drive. After everyone was secured for the pulse jump, Scotts activated the drive. The tiny shuttle instantly became a blur as space and time contracted for a split second, hurtling the crew back toward the other side of space.
“Team leader, give me an update,” Colonel Little said into the handset. The black RV in which he rode slowly made its way back toward Roman’s apartment.
“Sir, they are not here. They vanished!” The voice on the other end was very excited. The last transmission came through from the assault team.
“What the hell do you mean, they vanished? Nothing can vanish into thin air!”
The transmit disk began to rotate in the opposite direction, and within a few seconds it stopped. The team leader knelt down beside the trans-mat and noticed there was a cylindrical device with a flashing red indicator on the top. The team leader observed curiously as the flashing light increased its frequency.
“Sir, our situation just got worse.” The excited voice suddenly turned serious with the intense realization of what might soon happen. Colonel Little’s frantic calls over the radio were suddenly forgotten.
“Oh my god.”
Dean activated his wheelchair and went into his television room, where both sets showed breaking news. Dean turned down CNN and turned up Fox News. He listened with intense curiosity as a reporter spoke from the studio.
“We have breaking news just in. An entire apartment complex was destroyed in what police and federal officials are calling an act of domestic terrorism. A Metro spokesman issued a statement that police detective John Roman, who lived at the destroyed apartment complex, was affiliated with the notorious white supremacist motorcycle gan
g calling itself the ‘SS Viking.’ Apparently, Roman and members of his outlaw gang robbed a bank this afternoon. Upon being chased by police, Roman and his gang detonated an ammonium nitrate fertilizer bomb. The police department has also stated that Roman was under investigation and that they were about to move on him with federal authorities. The bomb that was used apparently was meant for City Hall. Stay tuned for more on this breaking story.”
Dean put the volume back on mute, and his house resumed its normal silence, save for the occasional meow from one of his cats. Dean guided his wheelchair back into his study, where he resumed painting a miniature figurine of a dragon. He began to highlight the red around the eyes. He paused and muttered to himself, “I guess Cyrus screwed up. At least I got fifty grand out of the deal.
CHAPTER 29
The Emperor’s Fist emerged from the electromagnetic corridor prematurely, with large, powerful gravitational waves emitting from its pulse core. Those who weren’t braced properly were knocked off their feet or chairs. The elongated strands of starlight immediately shrank to points of singularity as the ship slowed to cruising speed. Unfortunately, it was not alone.
“M class warship sighted, Admiral,” a helmsman reported from his viewing screen.
Admiral Raus stared out through the massive panoramic view screen. The Emperor’s Fist had emerged near a small, uninhabited water planet. Massive ion storms erupted all over its surface. The enemy warship that the helmsman had picked up was the only thing keeping them from returning home, and the admiral wasn’t about to let that happen. The gravitational waves produced a distortional effect around The Emperor’s Fist, pulling the enemy ship closer, into attack range.
“The ship is closing rapidly, sir,” the helmsman continued. “I am detecting multiple torpedo launches.”
“Very well. Prepare for impact. Shut off the pulse core and initiate conventional thrusters. Hard starboard turn and prepare a retaliatory strike.”
Dawn of the Mad Page 21
