HALLOWED BE THY NAME

by James Somers

  Weapons locked into firing position and military issue gasmasks, carrying night-vision capability, were pulled down over their faces. The truck lurched to a stop in front of Police Precinct #7 in Branton. Trenton burst out of the back of his armored car facing the precinct’s glass and steel façade. He raised his submachine gun, with grenade launcher, and fired a grenade through the glass door into the lobby, where two officers stood, manning the security pass door.

  The grenade exploded. Glass flew everywhere. “Let’s go!” Trenton ordered.

  The teams from each of the three black armored cars filed out into the parking lot, fully armed. They followed Trenton toward the building. He kicked the doorframe in, leading them through.

  The entire lobby of the police station had been torn to pieces. The bodies of two police officers, and several men, hands still cuffed behind their backs, lay sprawled on the debris strewn floor. The charred security door had buckled a little, but still held firm.

  One of Ming’s men tried it, but couldn’t get it to budge.

  “Watch out!” Trenton planted a Gortex boot near the dead bolt, kicking the door in. It gave way with a loud pop. Trenton fired on several officers coming toward the door as he ran through. The other members of his team followed him inside.

  One man had been designated to cut the power. As Trenton ran through the booking room, the lights went out. The screaming increased. Trenton and his team switched on their night-vision and began to spread throughout the precinct. The only light came from emergency lamps and muzzle flashes.

  Trenton grabbed one of the booking officers, pulling him out from under the desk where he had been hiding. “I want the boy Detective Stamos brought here today!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the officer said.

  Trenton grabbed the man’s hand and squeezed until several bones snapped. The officer screamed in pain. “Tell me where he is, or you’ll die a slow death right here.” He squeezed the injured hand again.

  “I’ll tell, I’ll tell!” the officer screamed. “Third floor! Security Lockdown #5!”

  Trenton dropped the man’s hand. He fell into the desk chair cradling the fractured limb. “Good, you’ve avoided a slow painful death—have a quick one instead.” Trenton opened up on the man with a burst of machine gun fire, then moved on. He spoke into his headset. “Team one, third floor—Security Lockdown #5. I’m going for the stairwell.”

  “Copy!” Team one’s leader replied.

  •••

  Jay heard an explosion that shook the entire building. He had been startled by it because he was hacking the police database on one of their PCs at the time. He stopped typing immediately. An alarm blared somewhere on a floor below. Officers in the hall outside of the room where he was being kept, shouted questions and orders.

  Jay tapped into the surveillance video system from his current link. He had tried not to smile, when asking the officer in charge of his care if he might be able to use the internet to play an online game, while he waited in the employee lounge.

  “Sure kid, just don’t get on any sites you shouldn’t,” the man had said.

  “No problem,” Jay had replied. Little did they know whom they were leaving on one of their network computers.

  Jay brought up video feeds from as many cameras as would fit on the display at one time. The lobby camera showed only static. The first floor cameras, however, came alive with activity—men in black outfits, carrying machine guns as they stormed the precinct.

  Jay heard the cacophony of gunfire filtering through the building. He rushed to the bullet proof window pane and peered down into the parking lot. Three black, armored cars sat parked in front of the building. Exhaust vapor condensed briefly and then faded into the cool night air. They’re coming for me, he thought.

  Everything went dark. The lights, television, and the computer all snapped off, leaving only the staccato of machine gun fire, fading screams, and a thunderous heartbeat racing inside his chest. Jay realized he was alone and defenseless.

  He stumbled to the wall and picked up the phone—nothing. Jay had not been allowed to bring his laptop into the precinct. He walked over to the door and opened it. Most of the officers in this section stood beyond a bullet-proof window meant to keep people out. They were partially illuminated by one of the emergency backup lights in the hallway. Jay saw that the officers were outfitted in Kevlar vests, carrying machine guns of their own.

  Trenton had to be behind this. It was simply too coincidental. How he had managed to recruit these people and persuade them to attack a police station was beyond Jay’s comprehension, but it smacked of Trenton Hallowed, all the way. Jay counted ten police officers guarding the stairwell. He hoped they would be enough to stop the people coming for him.

  •••

  Trenton stood before the third floor stairwell access door. He knew more police officers would be waiting on the other side of the door. He waited while other members of his team came up the stairs after him. Trenton kicked the door open.

  The police officers in the hall beyond immediately opened fire on him. Trenton fired two grenades into the fray before the door closed itself again. The hallway exploded into a fireball that blew the door open and propelled Trenton into a concrete wall.

  He stood up again with his weapon in hand and walked through the shattered doorframe into the hall where the ambush had been waiting. Broken bodies decorated the corridor. To his left, Trenton noticed the bulletproof Plexiglass windows remained scorched, but intact. The scarred lettering read, “Security Lockdown #5.”

  Trenton pounded his forearms into the barrier over and over, again. His increased strength quickly won out. The Plexiglass began to buckle, forming spider web cracks across its surface.

  •••

  Jay scrambled through the room, after the explosion killed the officers barring Trenton Hallowed from taking him. He searched frantically for guns, but the only ones were locked tight in gun cabinets. He opened a locker and rifled through the contents until he found a couple of useful items.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw Trenton cave in one of the Plexiglass windows. Another hit forced the floor to ceiling barrier out of his way. Emergency lighting provided just enough illumination to silhouette the man, causing him to appear even more menacing.

  “No use hiding boy. I can see you just fine, even in the dark,” Trenton said.

  Jay stood up. “What do you want with me? I didn’t do anything to you.”

  Trenton laughed. “Oh, didn’t you? I’m not so stupid to think that Jonathan could’ve locked me out of my own database. You might be a little punk, but you’ve got skills with a computer.” Trenton walked through the dark toward Jay. “I don’t want to have to kill you, kid. We’re going to go for a ride. Then you can remove the encryption on my files. After that, I’ll let you walk.”

  Jay allowed Trenton to get within twenty feet of him before opening fire. Two barbed metal prongs shot out from Jay’s hidden Taser gun, attaching to Trenton’s chest. He didn’t respond, except to laugh at Jay’s effort. Trenton pulled the leads free, tapping his chest with his knuckles. “Ha! Kevlar, kid. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Jay whipped out a second Taser gun from behind his back. “No problem!”

  He fired the prongs into Trenton’s face this time. The leads gouged into his cheek, and the current rolled into his body. He stood trembling at the mercy of 50,000 volts of electricity. He fell to his knees, then lunged forward, slapping the Taser pistol from Jay’s grasp.

  Jay tried to bolt past him, but wasn’t fast enough. Trenton caught him and tossed him into the wall. “Tranquilize him!” Trenton shouted. Trenton’s team came into the room and picked Jay up off the floor. He felt a pin prick in his back. Seconds later the room spun around him and everything went black.

  •••

  The Branton sign passed by on Michael’s right at seventy miles per hour. He checked the rear view mirror again. Jonathan and his sport bike remai
ned glued to his rear bumper. They had been speeding a bit on their way to Police Precinct #7 in Branton, but traffic was virtually non-existent at this time of night.

  Michael’s radio suddenly erupted with calls for help. “Shots fired, shots fired—we’ve got officers down at Precinct #7—armed men have blown the place wide open—we can’t keep them out!” Gunshots resounded in the background. “Anyone, we need—”

  “Good grief!” Michael tapped the siren switch on his dash. Blue lights came on at the front and rear of the Charger. He waved a hand out the window signaling Jonathan to follow, then he punched the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The hemi roared, the body vibrated slightly, and off he went.

  In his rearview mirror, Michael saw Jonathan’s front wheelie hop off the pavement as he sped up in pursuit of the Charger. Michael torqued the steering hard to the left. His car squealed sideways across the pavement, through the barren intersection, leaving a trail of white smoke and black rubber for Jonathan to follow. The candy apple, sport bike fell over at a hard angle, its tires bit into the asphalt, then bike and rider lunged forward after the police car once again.

  They covered several miles in what seemed like mere seconds. When they had the police precinct in view, a half mile away, Michael saw the muzzle flashes of machine guns. The assailants intended to make a get away in three black armored cars. He’d seen them before, used in jobs all over Imperial City. “Ming!”

  As he got closer, Michael spotted Trenton Hallowed carrying the boy in his arms. He appeared to be unconscious, or dead. Surely they didn’t kill him!

  Michael didn’t bother to stop afar off. As more of Ming’s men followed Trenton Hallowed out of the gutted police precinct, Michael aimed right for them. They realized too late what was happening, but still managed to shoot at him. Machine gun fire peppered the black Charger’s grill and hood. The windshield shattered as bullets pocked it full of holes. Michael kept his foot on the gas and plowed through Ming’s men, then hit the brakes hard, spinning sideways to stop behind one of the armored cars. Machine gun fire came from the precinct behind him and the armored car in front of him. Michael forced his driver side door open and rolled onto the pavement. He came up with his pistol over the trunk lid and capped two of the assailants as they tried to close the rear door on their armored car.

  The first armored car screeched away, leaving a plume of white smoke rising off the parking lot. The second armored car began following, as more gunfire erupted from the officers still able to fight, emerging from the shattered front of the precinct in riot gear. Michael grabbed a submachine gun from one of Ming’s dead crew and ran to the cab of the third armored car.

  The driver saw him and stepped on the gas. Michael fired into the driver’s side window. Bullets peppered the bulletproof glass relentlessly until it could take no more. The pane fragmented, and his shots penetrated. Crimson dashed the windshield as the driver fell over. The truck veered out of control and hit a street light in the parking lot.

  Michael found Jonathan running to the rear doors of the armored car. Jonathan tore them open, and gunfire erupted from within. The other officers joined them, opening fire on the vehicle’s interior until those inside either surrendered, or lay dead.

  Michael looked inside as Jonathan jumped in. He searched among the bodies. “He’s not here, Michael!”

  Jonathan grabbed one of the three assailants standing with their hands behind their heads in the back of the armored car. “Where is the boy?” Jonathan asked. He lifted the man off his feet, and slammed him against the wall of the truck. “Where?”

  “He’s in one of the other trucks—Hallowed has him!” the man confessed.

  Jonathan dropped the man and ran out of the truck. He picked up his sport bike from the place where he had let it fall. “I’m going after him, Michael. Trenton wants the encryption codes.”

  “Not without me, you’re not.” Michael pulled a Kevlar vest from one of the officers standing nearby and began putting it on. “Somebody, give him a vest, now!”

  22 PURSUIT

  Jonathan raced through the streets of Branton—a candy apple red blur with a busted ferring on one side where he had laid it down at the police station. Ahead of him, Michael’s bullet-ridden Dodge Charger screamed down the road, its blue lights flashing and siren blaring. Jonathan spoke into his helmet microphone, now tuned to Michael’s police frequency. “Are you sure they would take him there?”

  “Those were Ming’s trucks,” Michael said. “If they wanted to get him someplace secure, they’d take him to Ming’s tower in Donalee.”

  Ahead on the road, Jonathan spotted one of the black armored cars with its lights out. He’d only spotted it as the street lamps reflected off the moving target. “Up there! I see one of the trucks!”

  “I knew it! They’re trying to get to Ming’s tower downtown.”

  “How do we stop an armored truck?” Jonathan asked.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet,” Michael said, then he jammed the gas pedal to the floor again, and the Charger sped toward the armored truck.

  Jonathan followed, knowing he would have to come up with some way to get Jay out of there without getting them all killed. Trenton would be in there with him. He twisted the throttle grip, propelling the bike forward.

  “They’ve spotted us!” Michael said. The truck pushed another car off of the road and hopped off the pavement coming onto the Jefferson County Bridge.

  Jonathan passed Michael’s police car on the right side to avoid the wrecked car, then fought to catch the truck. He hit the incline leading onto the bridge doing 80 mph, and caught air before landing hard again. He kept the bike under control and surged forward.

  A panel slid open on one of the rear doors of the truck, and a machine gun barrel pushed through. Fire and hot lead blasted from the muzzle as the gunman tried to hit Jonathan. He ducked low behind the sport bike’s fiberglass ferring. Their erratic driving did little for their aim. Sparks ignited from the pavement around Jonathan as bullets skimmed the street and ricocheted off the bridge’s steel girders.

  Jonathan gunned the throttle again and came up on the left side of the truck. The driver swerved at him, and Jonathan backed off just enough to avoid getting sideswiped. The gunman tried to maneuver the machine gun barrel in order to get at Jonathan again, but the angle proved too difficult. The gun barrel turned back in the door as the black Charger approached.

  Michael fired his own machine gun first and peppered the rear doors with bullets before they could return the favor. He kept the heat on them until the gun panel closed again. Michael maneuvered up to the right rear bumper with his car.

  The armored car driver continued to swerve back and forth, hoping to keep his pursuers at bay. The truck left the bridge with Jonathan and Michael still hot on its trail. The rear door opened up just enough for one of the gunmen to open fire again. This time, bullets riddled Jonathan’s motorcycle, driving near the left rear of the armored car. The fiberglass ferring exploded into fragments. Sparks leaped from the engine. The headlight burst, along with the front tire.

  “I’m coming Jonathan!” Michael swerved from the right rear of the armored truck to Jonathan’s position. Bullets punctured the gas tank. The bike exploded underneath Jonathan as the black Charger came along side blocking the rest of the gunfire. Jonathan jumped up and rolled from the bike onto the roof of the Charger, trying to douse the errant flames clinging to his clothing. The motorcycle veered away into a parked car, tumbling several times before it stopped. It lay burning behind them as the chase continued toward Ming’s tower in the distance.

  “Jonathan, are you all right?” Michael shouted into his headset.

  Jonathan lay on his back on the roof of the speeding police car, clinging to the sides of the roof with smoke rolling off his singed clothes. His helmet mic still functioned. “I’m okay.” He rolled onto his belly, hanging on for dear life. Michael returned fire through his fractured windshield, forcing the gunman to close the rear
door again. “Bring me alongside!” Jonathan shouted.

  Michael sped up again. Jonathan moved quickly, leaping from the roof of the Charger to the hood, then sprang upward toward the truck. He caught the edge of the truck’s roof and used his new strength to pull the rest of his body aboard. The driver swerved again, forcing Jonathan to roll to his belly and spread eagle in order to grasp the sides with his hands and feet. Michael backed off again with the Charger.

  “What now?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t have a clue.” Jonathan looked ahead. They had reached the tower. The truck pulled through the plaza in front of the tower and lurched to a halt. Michael came right on their heels.

  Gunfire came from every direction when the Charger entered the courtyard, with its many concrete planters and decorative statues. More of Ming’s men poured around the armored car to defend it. The Charger swerved under fire as Michael ducked down in his seat. He crashed into one of three decorative fountains setting in front of the building.

  Ming’s men tried to disembark from the rear of the armored truck, but Jonathan was still there waiting. He leaped off the roof and caught several by surprise. He pummeled three of the gunmen before they realized what was happening. Jonathan took two of their machine guns and opened fire on the others in the courtyard. They returned fire, but quickly gave up the truck to retreat into the building.

  Jonathan pulled the rear doors open. “Jay?” But no one else was inside.

  He ran to the wrecked Charger with Michael still inside. The water spraying from the fountain cascaded over the destroyed Dodge, sparkling with vibrant color as the blue police lights illuminated the scene like a freakish piece of modern art.

  Jonathan pulled the crushed driver’s door open. “Michael, are you hurt?”