Too many questions rolled around.
“Any idea how there’d be a connection there?”
“Yeah,” Heather nodded, “yeah, I think so. Long shot, for sure, but there is a possible connection.”
I need some tea, she thought and stood up. But, she began pacing the room, forgetting about the tea altogether.
“Are you okay?” The Duke asked, now leaning close to the screen. Heather looked at him and saw that his eyes were a dark blue, the color of deep water. What a strange thing to notice, she thought, wondering why she hadn't noticed the color before.
“I'm okay, just wrapping my head around this.”
She heard the sound of an alarm, a low buzzing. The duke glanced at his computer screen before Heather even registered what she was hearing.
The Duke looked up at her, his eyes wide, and then suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light and an explosion of static on her video screen. The light remained on the screen for several seconds and then seemed to melt and flicker back to the image of the duke sitting at the computer. The sound was muffled by static, but she could tell that he was screaming. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands covered his ears as he screamed. Drops of blood streamed from his ears and down his cheeks.
Heather covered her mouth with the back of her hand, horrified, and leaned closer to the screen. No sound was coming through, the microphone on the camera probably blasted with the force of the explosion. Heather's mind was a jumble of confused thoughts, trying to make sense of what she was saying. First the alarm. Could have been anything, but she was sure that when the Duke had seen why the alarm was sounding, he was scared. Then the explosion.
But was it an explosion? Aside from the flash of light and burst of sound, everything else seemed to be intact, whereas a real explosion would have demolished the apartment.
Percussion grenade. Or a flash bang grenade, she couldn't remember what it was called. She had seen something like that in a spy movie once, where the soldiers used the grenade to cause an explosion of light and sound to stun anyone in a room before entering.
Someone else was in the apartment, and would be coming in fast. The Duke was still out of commission. His eyes were open and he was no longer screaming. The blood was still streaming down his ears. He seemed to be in some kind of daze.
“Get out of there!” Heather screamed, but wasn't sure if he could hear her even if the speakers on his end worked. She waved her arms to get his attention, but froze when she a figure stepped into view behind him. It was a man dressed in black fatigues like a SWAT commando or one of those secret soldiers from an old spy movie. A black face mask was pulled up around the man's mouth and nose, and some kind of mechanized goggles covered his eyes.
The soldier walked toward the Duke, his short barreled rifle pointed at the back of the Duke's head.
“Hey! No!” Heather screamed, waving her arms frantically. Her heart walloped in her tightening chest. The Duke didn't look up. The soldier was within two feet of him and she saw his thumb slide over the safety on the rifle.
“NO!”
The soldier fired, and the Duke was thrown forward onto his desk. Heather screamed, biting her fist as she watch his body slide limply to the floor. The soldier pointed his rifle at the place where the Duke had fallen.
“No!” she screamed, not believing what she was seeing. “No, stop!
The soldier fired three more shots toward the ground, toward where the Duke was laying, and Heather stopped screaming, terror caught in her throat.
The soldier took a deep breath and then looked directly at the web camera. Heather sat in her chair, too shocked to move, and they stayed like that for several seconds. The soldier cocked his head to the side and took a stop closer. He removed his goggles and face mask, revealing an older man with black hair and dull green eyes. Several days worth of stubble covered his chin and cheeks, and his lips were dry and cracked. He smiled at Heather and his eyes danced with insanity. The soldier lifted his finger to his lips shushed her.
He took a step back, pointed his rifle directly at the web camera and fired. Heather jumped and the screen went black.
For several seconds, the only sound in her apartment was her pounding heartbeat. She inhaled shakily and tried to clear her mind. It was so quiet in her apartment, and with the Duke's camera feed gone, she felt very alone. If they knew about the Duke, then they surely knew about her. She had to get out. And fast.
As if in answer to her thoughts, she heard a very faint rattle from her front door, as if someone were trying the knob.
They were already here.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mae glanced over her shoulder and looked at Adam sitting in the car, watching her go. She hated leaving him like this, but she had to see Ryan. She knocked on the door and listened intently for the sounds of someone approaching. The door suddenly opened and there was Ryan, surprised to see her on the doorstep.
“Mae?”
“Hi, Ryan,” she said, and was more confused than ever. She liked Adam, and liked what he meant to her, reminding her of a time in her life when everything was normal. But with Ryan, her feelings were raw and intense.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I was worried about you. How'd you get back?”
He peered over her at the car idling in the driveway, and she pushed him inside, shutting the door behind her. Once the door was closed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, tasting and smelling him. He pulled her close.
When he pulled back, he smiled at her strangely and asked, “What was that for?”
“Can't I just kiss you?”
“Of course you can.” He kissed her again and led her away from the door. She glanced around at the house and was amazed at how big it was. The floor was dark hardwood, and a staircase wrapped around the front entryway, framing a cast-iron chandelier that was somehow elegant and rustic at the same time. The walls were subtle white that brought out the dark amber hues of the wood, and along the center wall stood a grandfather clock, its pendulum bob ticking away the seconds with graceful swings.
One of the walls above the staircase had a huge and majestic painting of a fox hunt over the English countryside during late autumn. The scene was complete with braying foxhounds and men in red coats atop rearing horses. Several foxes cowered in shadows among fallen logs in one corner of the painting.
they will never stop hunting
“It's beautiful,” she said.
“The painting?”
“The whole house is beautiful, but the painting is really something.”
“It is, isn't it?” He pulled her close and was about to kiss her again, but she turned away and shook her head.
“We need to talk,” Mae said. “I'm sorry about the way things happened back there at your friend’s house. Really sorry.”
“It's okay,” he said. “I'm sorry too. I never meant to upset you or anything like that. I was just trying to be honest.”
“I know,” she said. “And don't think I'm okay with your driving activities. I still think it is so stupid, but I understand that you were opening up, and I'm sorry I reacted the way I did.”
“Thank you.” He smiled and kissed Mae on the corner of her mouth. She almost returned the kiss, then hesitated.
“An old friend brought me here,” she said. “He's someone I knew a long time ago, and we crossed paths while you were gone.”
Mae paused, unsure of how to continue.
“He's special to me.” She said finally.
Ryan stopped smiling and looked away. She felt the guilt and confusion rising again, and she hated the situation she was in. She liked Ryan, but she also liked Adam. They were different, and they made her feel happy in their own special way. She hated being stuck between the two, even if just in her mind.
“What's his name?”
“Adam,” Mae said quickly, “and it's not just about him. I have secrets too, and I think I want to tell you about them.”
; “You want to talk about it, now?” Ryan motioned with his head toward the center of the house, where Mae could only assume there was a sitting room or lounge.
“Yes, but I have to—”
They both heard the glass break outside, and Ryan cocked his head to listen, his eyebrows arched and his gaze suddenly more intense. Mae shivered—
never stop hunting, always hunting, never stop
—and a chill rode from her spine to the tips of her fingers.
It couldn't be, she thought, it was impossible. They couldn't have found her now, and what about Adam?
Mae turned away from Ryan and began running toward the front door. Ryan caught her around the waist just as the giant door and the windows in the front rooms of the house exploded. The air was suddenly filled with brilliant orange flames, flying glass and splinters of wood. Mae screamed as bullets were shot into the house, tearing through the walls, shattering glass and puncturing wood. Dust and debris clouded the air as Mae screamed, and Ryan pulled her to the ground.
“Come on!” he shouted, pulling her along the ground. He was on his hands and knees, yanking her arm. She got up and crawled after him, looking over her shoulder to see people—soldiers—dressed in black and entering the house, automatic rifles tucked into their shoulders, pointing straight ahead. She saw one of the soldiers unclip a canister from his belt, pull a pin and then toss it toward her as she rounded the corner.
The explosion of sound and light knocked her to the ground and she smacked her face into the wood floor. Everything was blurry and dark, and she couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched buzz that screamed in her ears. She felt fuzzy and weak as she rolled around on the ground and tried to regain her bearings. After several seconds, the scene around her came into focus. One of the curtains at the far end of the room had caught fire, the dark smoke billowing up toward the ceiling, the off-white paint curling in the heat and turning black.
She couldn't see Ryan. He had been right in front of her, and she couldn't see him.
“Ryan!” Her voice came out in a croak, and she screamed his name again and again. Suddenly someone was behind her, grabbing her by the hair. She punched backwards, kicked with her feet and pushed into the person, but he wrenched her to the side and she felt the burn in her scalp as her hair pulled.
“Ryan!” she yelled again, tears running down her face, and the man holding her hair kneed her in the face. She began to black out, but held on to the light and kept her eyes open.
Where was Ryan?
She felt that familiar buzz, and the panic exploded within her. If that happened now, there was no telling if Ryan would make it out alive, or Adam for that matter.
Adam ... Mae squeezed her eyes shut. How could she have let this happen? They will never stop hunting you, her mother screamed at her, but the scream wasn't angry. Her mother's voice was so afraid.
The buzz intensified and she felt the growing wave of energy around her and her body fell limp.
Paper and ink, she thought, and then shoved the thought aside. They will always hunt you, her mind insisted, unless you fight back.
Unless she unleashed everything she had on the hunters and destroyed them.
The electrical buzz grew to a firestorm of energy and the warm air swirled like a hurricane.
Unleash it all, she thought. The man was dragging her by the hair. She hurt all over, but she didn't care.
Destroy the hunters.
Ryan suddenly came barreling from the growing clouds of smoke and tackled the man who was dragging her. They both flew into the wall behind them and smashed through the drywall. Ryan was swinging and punching and kicking like a banshee, pummeling the man in black fatigues.
“Run, Mae!” Ryan shouted. “Get out of here!”
But Mae couldn't move. She lay on the ground, her body limp and twitching as the world around her shut down, the waves of energy growing.
Mae absently watched another man step up behind Ryan and crack the butt of his rifle into the base of his head. Ryan dropped to the ground with a thud.
“She's piquing,” someone said from somewhere behind her, and she recognized the voice at once. “Administer the agent, quickly now.”
The man who'd been dragging her by the hair climbed to his feet and removed a bottle from his jacket. He popped the lid and doused the liquid onto a cloth rag.
The buzzing was a roaring train coming toward them.
Destroy the hunters, she thought, her mind far away, unleash everything. They will never stop hunting unless they're all dead. Gone, obliterated.
She wasn't aware of the soldier kneeling by her and placing the rag over her mouth and nose. She looked up, instantly fuzzy.
“Get the second dosage ready,” the voice said, and she knew that voice. She pushed back against the ground, suddenly realizing that she couldn't move her body. She looked back and saw the doctor from so long ago. Dr. Whaler, she remembered. The fuzziness turned quickly to a nothingness, and she felt herself slipping into that nothingness.
they will never stop hunting
She fought the slipping, tried to hold onto consciousness to fight and destroy. She hated them for this. Hated them for hunting her. For destroying her life.
“Do you see her?” Dr. Whaler asked, turning his head to watch her struggle. “She's like a fish trying to breath out of water. Administer the second dosage.”
He smiled at her, and it was the last thing Mae saw before she slipped under the surface of oblivion.
Paper and ink, she thought, as she flitted away to nothingness.
Chapter Forty
Norman Whaler watched as his men loaded the unconscious girl onto a stretcher. How long had it been since he'd seen the girl? He looked forward to getting reacquainted with her.
The men pushed her out of the burning house and onto the icy sidewalk, Dr. Whaler following at a slight distance. The drugs he'd concocted to take the subject out of commission were designed to inhibit her brain function, which in turn would take away her mind's ability to entangle with the world around her. Without the entanglement, at least in theory, the subject couldn't wreck her havoc, but he still didn't trust her. Not after being taken off guard in Miami.
The subject's arm slipped from the gurney and hung limply from the side. He opened his mouth to say something, but one of his men saw it and pushed the arm back to the subject's side, tightening the strap around the wrist.
“Load her into the stasis tank, and prepare the transport. We have a long way to go.”
The men said nothing, but he knew they would follow through with his orders. They were as devoted to the cause as he was, and it wouldn't do them any favors to disobey.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out and answered it without checking who the caller was. The call was on time, and he knew who it was.
“Well hello, Harrison,” he said. Whaler hung back and watched Mae's body being loaded into the trailer behind the semi-truck. She would be safe there, and more importantly, he and his crew would be safe as well.
“Yes, Harrison, it's finished,” Dr. Whaler said. “I spoke to Morales just an hour ago and the reporter has been taken care of, the hackers as well. Finally, things are buttoning up to the way they used to be. She’ll be ready for the Summit.”
He paused, listening. When Harrison finished, Dr. Whaler chuckled, his substantial gut jiggling as he laughed.
“The boy?” Dr. Whaler turned back to the house, which was now engulfed in flames. “Yes, the boy played his part perfectly. She had no idea that he delivered her right into our hands.”
He looked up at the dark winter sky and watched the snow floating down amidst the flames rising from the pyre.
To Be Concluded…
Snow Pyre
Book Three in the Snow Swept Trilogy
Derrick Hibbard
It seems we are entering a time in which Orwellian nightmares are no longer fantasy, or even a voice of warning for things to come, but our current reality…
Come not between the LIT DRAGON and his wrath. Here be dragons to be slain, here be rich rewards to gain.
- ANONX^17
Chapter One
When she was very young, and before the terror, Mae loved to laugh and smile. As soon as the sun peeked through the drawn blinds of her bedroom window, she would wake up with a big smile, stretching her arms to the ceiling and laughing for no reason at all. She would bound out of her bed and across the house to where her mom and dad would be sleeping. On cold mornings, she would climb beneath the covers and cuddle in their shared warmth, but most of the time, she wanted play.
She had short blond hair that couldn't be tamed. No matter what her mom and dad did to keep it in place, Mae's hair was wild. When she ran through the house, or through the thicket of trees just beyond their property, her hair would fly crazily in the wind, shining in the yellow sunlight and framing her deep blue eyes.
For her fourth birthday, her dad took her to an old hardware store in town and together they picked out some thick rope and metal brackets. They found an old rubber tire and made a swing in the tree in their backyard. Mae loved the swing and would fly on that old tire for hours on end, enjoying the breeze as it whipped her hair in endless swoops through the air.
When she wasn't swinging, Mae was running. Wherever she went, she needed to get there fast. Always, her running was filled with the sounds of her laughter. Mae was a happy girl with boundless excitement and energy. She spent each minute of each day as if it were an adventure to be fully experienced--and each adventure brought her joy.
In her quiet moments, which were few and far between, Mae loved to sit at the table and draw for hours. Everything she saw in her explorations that day was committed to a drawing. She never used crayons or pencils, only colored fountain pens. Once, after swinging through the twilight hours on a cold autumn day, she drew a picture of the azure sky through the colored leaves. In the corner of the page, there was an old bird's nest in the crook of some branches, but the nest was hanging upside down, as if the tree were floating in midair, and the sky was at the wrong angle. When Mae had finished, it had taken her mom several minutes to realize that Mae's drawing was from her perspective on the tree, swinging beneath the branches with her head tilted back, and watching the world upside down.
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 43
