Inception_The Bern Project_Volume One

by M James Conway

  For the first time in her life, she felt her life unraveling, the end getting near. She cried harder. She lifted her head up. She willed herself to look to her right down the road, her vision clouded in tears, wanting to see her father and Sims running back with everyone, thankful to be together.

  But nobody was there.

  She was tired of not doing anything useful. If her father and Sims were in trouble, she would try to help them.

  She stood up and walked toward the road, but as she got near, a hand came flying from behind her and covered her mouth.

  She went to scream, but nothing came out except a muffled cry. Her eyes got big. She could smell gunpowder and dirt coming from the man’s gloved hand.

  “Hello there,” a voice said in her ear. She could feel his breath and droplets of saliva hitting her ear. “Don’t worry, we have room for one more.”

  The man pulled her backward and another man appeared in front of her. He bent down to grab her feet so they could carry her, but she kicked out with her right foot and hit the man square in the face. He reeled back, found his footing, and brought a fist crashing down onto her right temple. The man behind her gripped tighter and brought his other arm around to hold her back, knocking her mother’s necklace off from around her neck.

  Kat went limp due to the pain as it coursed through her body, stars dancing in her vision.

  “You little bitch! You will pay for that!” The man used more force than was necessary to grab her legs and he lifted, while the other man carried her backwards.

  As they moved across the bridge, she heard a large engine idling and getting louder the closer they got. A third man got out of the driver’s seat, carrying a bag. He took out duct tape and placed some over her mouth then threw a dark bag over her head. He cinched it up and the other two men threw her roughly onto a hard bench. She heard the doors close and felt herself rocking as the vehicle moved down the road.

  Kat was frozen in fear. The realization that she was being kidnapped surfaced in her mind. She tried to sob but she had no tears left. She was thirsty and tired and was feeling dizzy from the blow to the head.

  A man said, “Charges are set. Let’s roll.”

  She thought about her father and Sims, the heartbreak they would feel when she wasn’t there. Would they think she’d abandoned them? That she was mad at her father? That if her mother could do it, so could she? Would they try to find her? And what would they feel when they couldn’t find her? She tried not to, but she couldn’t help picturing her father crying, on his hands and knees, mouthing the words, “My baby is gone,” over and over again.

  She thought about the last words he had said to her.

  “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

  Chapter 41

  “Do you hear that?” Russell ran back into the den. He heard the knocking sound again. This time it was louder. It came from the closet.

  “Yeah, I hear it. The closet,” Sims said.

  Both men grabbed the flaming desk, careful not to burn their hands. They moved it aside. A rug was lying on the ground askew and partially covering a hatch door.

  Russell used his foot to push the rug to the side. He saw a large rectangular floor door. He went to grab the handle but the door flew open, the edge barely missing him as it slammed into the wall of the closet.

  John jumped out and landed on his hands and knees, coughing and retching. “Bags!” he coughed out.

  “What?” Russell asked. “Where’s Morgan and everyone else?”

  John pointed behind him as he crawled on his hands and knees toward the door.

  Russell descended the stairs and saw Morgan walking with Frankie and Helen toward the opening. He stood to the side to let them pass. Morgan pointed behind him on the floor as they walked up and out.

  Russell ran to the back of the room and saw four large backpacks lying on the floor. He heard Sims walk in behind him and they each grabbed two packs and ran up the stairs and out of the house.

  John, Morgan, Frankie, and Helen were lying about fifty yards out, coughing and hacking, trying to catch their breath.

  Russell and Sims dropped the bags and pulled out bottles of water and handed them out.

  Russell gave them a few minutes to catch their breath. When they seemed to get their composure, he asked, “What happened?”

  John was the first to speak. “Thanks for the help.” He stood up and faced Russell, still coughing. “Redmond’s friends. They tried to kill us.”

  “Well, they failed, obviously. We saw a Blackhawk flying your way, heard shooting, then saw some Humvees. Then we saw the smoke. We figured you were in trouble.”

  “You always rescue killers, Russ?” Morgan asked sarcastically.

  Russell ignored him and said, “We should move out. As long as they think you’re dead, they won’t bother us.”

  “We need to get Kat, Russ,” Sims said.

  Before Russell could respond, Helen said, “Where is Kat?”

  “I had her stay behind by the bridge. Honestly, we didn’t know what we were going to find when we got here. With all those men and that helicopter, there wasn’t much Sims and I could do with two rifles. Since she was unarmed and untrained, I didn’t want her anywhere near here.”

  John was nodding. “Good thinking.”

  “Didn’t they drive out that way, though? You sure she’s okay?” Morgan said.

  Russell nodded. “We hid when we saw them leaving, then Sims and I came down. Kat should be fine.” They all started walking down the driveway at a hurried pace, mouths covered until they cleared the smoke.

  As they neared the bridge, Russell yelled out, “Kat! We’re here! Where are you?”

  No response.

  Sims walked into the woods off the road, yelling her name, while John and Morgan walked toward the bridge.

  They all spread out, taking various points around the woods, calling out her name, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “Russell, over here!” Sims was standing by a large tree with fern padding down below. He shone his flashlight down to the ground, and, as Russell got closer, he saw what it was.

  “Oh, god, no.” He felt a heaviness overtake him, pushing down on his shoulders as the realization of what had happened hit him. The necklace Kat’s mother had given her for her twelfth birthday lay on the ground, broken. A gold clover locket with a gold chain lay by itself against the tree, the chain broken at the clasp as if it had been torn off her. Russell’s chest became heavy and his throat closed up. He tried to breathe, but it came out as wheezing.

  He started sobbing and felt a heat burn up inside him, emanating from his core, working its way out to his extremities. His body shook. He thought of Redmond and pictured him laughing at Russell and Sims as they tried to ask him questions. He thought of all the innocent people that had been affected by what happened. All the innocent families. The children.

  His child.

  The rage and hate boiled up inside and worked its way out of his mouth. He yelled out, screamed out, eyes filled with tears.

  Sims put his hand on Russell’s shoulder but he threw it off. He stood up and grabbed his rifle and took off at a sprint toward the bridge. The others followed after him, shouting his name, but he ignored them.

  He would get his daughter back and kill every single man associated with her being taken.

  That, he promised.

  “Russell, stop. Look!” Sims yelled and pointed.

  As he neared the entrance, Russell broke his focus and looked up across the bridge. Hundreds of zombies were running toward them about three hundred yards down the road and toward the bridge from the other side.

  Russell slowed, but didn’t stop. He brought up the rifle, running on pure adrenaline. Fifty yards from the bridge he turned and yelled, “I don’t care! I’m – ”

  He didn’t have time to finish. A bright flash lit up the sky and he was thrown back, landing next to the others, their packs and guns mixed with debris, flying through the air.
<
br />   Russell got his bearings and fumbled around on the ground, trying to get his feet planted so he could stand up. He saw everyone else getting up with confused looks on their face. With scratched and bloody faces, they looked over Russell’s shoulder. He turned to see what they were looking at and he saw no bridge where there should be one. Chunks of asphalt and concrete littered the area around them and across the river.

  The bridge had been blown.

  They were trapped.

  The sound of a helicopter grew louder as it approached them from the south, flying low, the same helicopter that had destroyed Frankie’s house. He reached down and grabbed his rifle, lifted it up and took aim at the helicopter as it flew low over the tree line right toward them.

  Russell followed the helicopter through his sights, zeroing in on the pilot. But right before he pulled the trigger, his gun was pushed up. The sudden jolt caused him to fire a round that went straight up, missing the helicopter by a good distance.

  “No!” Morgan’s hand rested on the barrel as he pulled it back from Russ.

  “Let me shoot them, Morgan!” Russell yelled through tears. “They have my daughter!”

  Morgan nodded. “I know, but look.”

  He pointed up to the helicopter, and, as it banked to the right and headed east, Russell saw the door gunner aiming at them, but that’s not what he was looking at. Behind the gunner, a smaller figure with a black hood was struggling to get free from her captors. Russell recognized Kat’s clothes and witnessed in horror as she struggled mightily, clawing, scratching, punching, doing everything she could to get free. At one point, her effort paid off and she extended her arm outside. It was quickly dragged back in by her captors. Russell instinctively reached up.

  He tried to free his rifle from Morgan’s grasp.

  Morgan let go of his own rifle, letting it sling down, and used his now free hand to pull the rifle from Russell, who was struggling to hold onto it. John came over and grabbed Russell in a bear hug and said, “No, Russell! You might hit her.”

  They all looked up and watched as the helicopter continued east and out of sight, the sound from its rotors receding in the distance until all that was left to be heard was Russell weeping.

  Sims came over and bent down next to Russell, who had fallen to his knees. He put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Russ, we will get her back. I promise.”

  Russell stood, wiping tears from his eyes. “I failed her.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’ll fail her if you don’t try to get her back,” Morgan said. He walked around to face Russell. “Look at me.” Russell did. Morgan pointed up in the air and to the east. “See that?” Russell looked at the dark and distant sky. “That is who we kill, Russell. We kill bad men. We always have. If not for us, then for someone else. Grieving families, heartbroken parents, those that were victims of crimes where the justice system failed them. That’s where we come in.”

  Russell just stared at Morgan, fury and rage in his eyes. “I want to kill them!”

  Morgan smiled then winked at Russell. “Well then. Let’s go kill them and get Kat back.” He put his hand out, and, after a few seconds, Russell shook it and nodded.

  “I can’t speak for Russell, but I’m in,” Sims said.

  Russell looked at Sims, then to John and Morgan. Finally, he nodded and said, “Okay, Morgan. I just want to get my daughter back.” He walked over and grabbed one of the backpacks, put it on, then started walking back down Mount Si Road toward the houses and the service road into the hills. “And I’m going to kill them.”

  The others watched Russell as he walked away, then they each grabbed a free bag, with John and Sims taking the heaviest ones and Frankie and Helen picking up their smaller backpacks. They started walking a few yards behind Russell.

  “Contact, front!” Morgan yelled.

  Everyone split off and took up position on either side of the road. John ran to the right and crouched down, AR-15 up. The sound grew louder and its familiarity took him back to Seattle and running down the road, being saved by two Texans in a black Dodge Charger with the chrome blower resting on top of the hood. The same car was screaming down the dirt road up ahead where Mount Si Road turned into a service road as it continued east.

  “It’s that traitor, Boogie!” Morgan jumped up and ran into the middle of the road, gun up, the car’s headlights illuminating him and throwing his shadow to the west.

  Before Morgan could fire, Boogie slammed on his brakes and the car fishtailed at an angle, coming to rest about ten yards in front of him.

  The driver’s door opened and Cindy jumped out and yelled, “Please! Help me! He tried to kill me!”

  She had blood streaming down her arm and tears streaming down her face.

  “Oh, god! Cindy, are you okay?” Helen asked.

  * * *

  Cindy had been driving for over an hour, though at much slower speeds than when they drove up the mountain. The pain from her arm had brought on blurred vision and dizziness, which she had tried to quell with sips of water.

  It didn’t work, so she had to bring down the speed of the Charger to maintain control. The last thing she wanted was for her mission to end because she drove into a tree.

  The road turned from a dirt track littered with potholes to crushed gravel and had widened about ten miles back. She squinted through the blur and saw pavement up ahead, so she accelerated, feeling more comfortable with the wider road.

  She had to think about what was next and what her game plan would be. How would they react when they saw her drive up and Boogie wasn’t there? Would they believe her? Since it was dark out, would they be able to recognize the Charger and her driving it? If they didn’t recognize the car in the dark, would they just open fire?

  She was running scenarios in her head when she noticed her vision getting blurrier. She blinked her eyes and squinted and saw that it was actually a haze of smoke in the air and was getting thicker the closer she got. The smell soon followed, as did the orange glow in the sky. She cleared the gravel, hit the pavement and was leaning forward to look up at the reflection of fire on the low smoky clouds when something caught her eye.

  She refocused on the road, both hands on the wheel, and slammed the brakes as hard as she could. The pain from her gunshot wound coursed down her arm and brought with it another wave of nausea.

  Morgan was kneeling in the middle of the road, an AR-15 pointed right at her, his pink Mohawk listing to the right and frayed, the look of murder in his eyes.

  She saw his mouth moving, but couldn’t make out the words. The car came to a stop, resting sideways in the road.

  Morgan yelled something again.

  Here we go, she thought.

  Cindy opened the driver’s door with her left hand, wincing at the pain, tears filling her eyes.

  Perfect.

  She got out.

  “Please! Help me! He tried to kill me!”

  She ran to the group. When they realized it was just her, they relaxed a bit, with Helen running to her.

  “Oh, god! Cindy are you okay?” Helen looked at her right arm and took off her backpack. She unzipped it, pulled out a medical kit, and went to work.

  Cindy worked the tears. Her bottom lip trembled. “I-I-I don’t know. We just…Boogie wanted to…Helen, you remember…Boogie wanted to go fishing or hunting or something.” Helen nodded. “I had no idea why, but he does that all the time…and…I don’t know…he wanted to get away after you guys brought those men over and…oh, god…it hurts so bad.” She continued to cry and went down on her knees.

  “I told you letting Boogie stay here was a bad idea from the start, didn’t I?” Morgan said, but not to her.

  “Cindy, where’s Boogie?” John asked. He was staring at her, the same look in his eyes that Morgan often had. Indifference.

  “He…he…I don’t know…we drove for an hour, pulled over, grabbed our rifles and fishing poles and started walking. After a few minutes he turns around and shoots me, but I was able t
o dodge out of the way and he just hit my arm! Oh, god, why?” Cindy took a few moments and put her head down to weep. “He said something about a new world…or…or, I don’t really remember, something about his men or some guys that caused all this. He said he hated to have to kill me…and…that’s when I ran at him and tried to tackle him. He tripped and…and as I was lying on the ground I saw the gun he dropped. Oh, god, I almost died!”

  John gave a sympathetic nod and said, “I understand Cindy. What happened next? Try to remember, okay?”

  Cindy nodded and continued, “I…I remember grabbing the gun and then he jumped on me and then I tried to turn over and kick him off. He stumbled and I just pointed the gun and shot. I hit him in the back and he fell over. I…I…then I grabbed the keys off him and ran to the car and drove away. I almost crashed and…” Cindy didn’t finish her last sentence. The sobs got more intense, tears and blood covering her face.

  Helen put her hand on her shoulder and said, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry. You’re with friends now. And your wound is just a graze.” Helen looked her in the eyes and smiled. “You’re going to be just fine. It’s all over now.”

  Cindy stood up and saw Morgan and John looking into the Charger. Did they not believe her? They lifted her bag out and started walking over to her, staring at her. God, please don’t open it, she thought. She didn’t need them to find her sat phone. John stopped and stood before her, staring. After a few seconds he held the bag up to her.

  “You’re going to be okay, Cindy.” He smiled. “Is this all you have with you? Anything in the trunk?”

  “No. I threw the guns in the trunk. I didn’t take the poles though. There wasn’t time.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

  John shook his head. “No. No, it’s okay. Fishing poles aren’t going to save the day.”

  Cindy looked behind her toward the houses. “What happened? Are you guys okay?”