BRAINRUSH, a Thriller

by Bard, Richard

  Jake let go of Francesca’s hand and approached the obelisk.

  The photos from Battista’s office had been taken here. Jake had mulled them over in the back of his mind for the past several days, trying to unlock their secret. A series of eight amazingly realistic grayscale images ran along the outside perimeter of the obelisk’s square surface. Each of the rectangular images was finely etched, resembling a tooled printing plate. The detail was incredible, reminding Jake of laser-etched photos on metal that he’d seen in kiosks at the mall. But these exquisitely engraved images could not have been converted photos from somebody’s attic collection. They depicted early man—fur-clothed, bearded Homo sapiens in various stages of horrific battle against one another, using rudimentary weapons made of stone, bone, and wood. Each of the scenes was more violent than the last, providing a haunting view of the bloodthirstiness of man’s ancestors.

  The final image in the sequence was different. It depicted three slender, hairless humanoid figures, their backs turned, standing on a rock ledge looking down on a tribe of our ancient ancestors. One of the three humanoids had his hands held out before him, as though he was awaiting a gift from heaven. Hovering in the air in front of his hands was a small black pyramid. Lances of black light shot from its peak and pierced the heads of the men and women below. Their hands were pressed to their temples, their wild-eyed faces frozen in agony.

  Jake found the realism of the scenes astonishing. His gut twisted at the barbarity. He recalled the radio-dating report in Battista’s office. This object was supposedly twenty-five thousand years old. Could it be true?

  The perimeter images framed a twenty-four-inch square section in the center of the black tabletop. A smaller square—about three inches wide—was etched into the center of the object. The space between this small untouched square and the larger one that surrounded it was divided into eleven trapezoidal sections, each containing odd shapes and patterns. Unlike the etched perimeter images, these shapes were embossed with various textures and vivid colors. To most people, the shapes would look nonsensical, like a child’s renderings of clouds, or snowmen, or a seemingly random scatter of raised dots and smooth indentations. But to Jake’s synesthetic brain, the texture, color, and shape of each pattern represented a distinct number. A couple of the numbers were just a few digits, but some were very large, and all of them were prime numbers. He’d figured that out shortly after he’d seen the photos in Battista’s office. What he had been unable to resolve, however, in spite of his advanced mental abilities, was the riddle behind the numbers, the pattern that would solve the puzzle.

  There was a puzzle here. He was certain of it.

  The seam around the three-inch square in the center of the object was relatively deep, as though it was inset. It contained no etchings. When he leaned over it, Jake could see his reflection in its polished surface.

  He felt compelled to solve the riddle of the numbers, but seeing them in person didn’t seem to help, especially with his mind in a fog.

  Tony’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Jake, one minute to go.”

  Jake nodded, absently brushing his hand along one of the colorful shapes.

  A surge of energy ran into his hand the instant he touched it. The sensation was overwhelming, captivating. Instead of jerking his hand away, he pressed his palm into the surface to increase the contact. His abilities rushed back with a clarity and strength beyond what he had experienced before, as though the obelisk supplied him with a surge of pure life force. He could once again feel the familiar thrumming vibration.

  His senses on full alert, he leaned over and laid his other hand on the cool surface. A second, more rapid vibration joined the first, creating a resonance that bounced off the walls of the chamber.

  Jake smiled like a schoolboy at recess. He looked up at his friends, expecting them to share in the awe of the moment. All he got back was confused looks.

  “Can’t you feel that?” Jake asked.

  “What’re you talking about?” Tony walked over next to Jake, Sarafina still strapped to his chest. “I don’t feel a thing,” he said.

  Francesca likewise shook her head.

  “The vibrations, bouncing off the walls—can’t you feel it?” Jake said.

  Both of them shook their heads.

  But Sarafina’s eyes were glued to Jake’s hands, her head cocked to the side. She said, “It sounds pretty.”

  Excited, Jake said, “What do you hear, honey?”

  “It’s like two chords together on the piano,” Sarafina said, “only it’s much prettier.” She pointed to a symbol on the surface. “What about that key?”

  Jake looked down at his hands. He hadn’t realized each was centered over one of the colorful shapes. Through Sarafina’s eyes and ears, the tabletop was an instrument meant to play musical notes. Somehow her savant-like musical ear allowed her to hear something the rest of them could not. Where he felt vibrations, she heard a note or chord, while Tony and Francesca heard or felt nothing. Jake lifted one hand and placed it on the glyph that she indicated.

  The vibration shifted and Sarafina smiled. She pointed at a different shape. “Now that one.”

  Francesca edged closer to Jake. She placed her hand on his back, as if sensing his feelings of wonder.

  Tony kept his eyes on his watch.

  Jake moved his hand to the next symbol. Sarafina smiled again. Without prompting, Jake moved his hands across each of the glyphs. When he was finished, Sarafina pursed her lips and pointed at three of them. “Those three are wrong. They don’t belong.”

  His eyes furrowed in concentration, Jake studied the three shapes. He mentally deleted them and shifted the remaining eight around in his head. His mind raced through a multitude of calculations and comparisons. After several breaths it came to him. “That’s it!”

  He turned to thank Sarafina when a glimmer caught his eye under the lace collar of her night clothes. He lifted it and found a thin square of pressure-sensitive film stuck to the underside of the lace. It was no larger than a postage stamp. He peeled it off and held it up to the light. It looked like a small microchip.

  Tony reacted first. “Damn, it’s a locator.”

  Jake and Tony exchanged a quick glance. “Go!” Jake said, sticking the film on his own clothing. “I’ll catch up.”

  “But, Jake…” Francesca’s voice trailed to a sob.

  Jake released his touch on the obelisk and was shaken as the effects of the drug rushed back into his consciousness. He put his arms around Francesca and squeezed her tight. He whispered in her ear, “You have to trust me.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffled and nodded. Jake followed them as far as the exit.

  “You sure about this?” Tony asked.

  “I’m sure,” Jake said.

  Jake’s parting look said in no uncertain terms, Don’t wait for me.

  Tony grimaced. Then, with a quick nod, he ushered Francesca in front of him and disappeared into the tunnel.

  Chapter 46

  Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan

  Francesca wiped the tears from her eyes while they ran. She understood the look that had passed between Jake and Tony. Jake was sacrificing himself so they could get away.

  She couldn’t believe she was losing him again. Leaving his side after everything that happened left her with a profound emptiness that clawed at her stomach. She felt like a hummingbird with no wings, unable to reach the flowers that would sustain her life.

  When they left Jake in the cavern, Francesca saw a dark cloud pass over Sarafina’s features. This time she didn’t have a promise from Jake that everything would be all right. She kept her head pressed tight to Tony’s chest, her little hands clinging to his clothing as he ran through the winding service tunnel. Her eyes had taken on the same vacant expression that Francesca had seen when Sarafina had first come to the institute after her parents were killed. The young girl had retreated back into herself. Francesca was tempted to do the same.

&nb
sp; The tunnel grew steeper, leading them up one level. From there Tony used the scribbled map on his notepad to guide them through a myriad of twists and forks, finally bringing them to this tunnel where they now huddled, just thirty yards from the main entrance to the cavern complex.

  They weren’t alone.

  Just ahead of them in the main corridor, fifty of Battista’s men were crouched on either side of the passageway leading to the clearing outside, blocking their exit.

  **

  Tony pressed his finger to his ear and whispered into his lapel microphone, praying he was close enough to the exit to get reception. “Becker, do you read me?”

  The signal was faint. “Sarge! Where the hell are you? The fog is clearing. If you’re not out in the next three minutes, this show will be all over. There are at least forty men hidden in the rocks outside just counting the seconds.”

  “Yeah, and there are another fifty waiting to rush out of the cavern,” Tony said.

  “The bleedin’ mongrels are everywhere. It’s now or never, Sarge!” Becker said.

  Tony’s mind raced through his options. He soaked in the fearful expression on Francesca’s face and he felt the warmth of Sarafina’s little body against his chest.

  It was the borrowed boots on Francesca’s feet that sparked his plan.

  “Stay here and don’t make a sound,” Tony whispered. “I’ll be right back.” He lifted Sarafina out of her sling and handed her to Francesca. As he stood up to leave, he added, “Cover her eyes.”

  Tony knew he’d have one shot at this. At least he was dressed for the part. Slinging the AK over his shoulder, he put on his best game face and stepped into the main corridor.

  The wide tunnel was darkened, the lights out to protect the night vision of the dark silhouettes hugging the walls. Tony sensed dozens of tense eyes looking his way. Stepping toward the man closest to him, Tony lowered his voice and laced it with authority. “You. Come with me. Quickly. I need your help.”

  The young jihadist hesitated, but only long enough to digest the menace in Tony’s eyes. He rose out of his crouch and Tony let him lead the way into the service tunnel. When they turned the second corner and came upon Francesca and Sarafina huddled against the wall, the man stopped short, his eyes locked on the girls.

  In one swift motion, Tony cupped the man’s chin in one hand, the back of his head in the other, and gave a violent twist, snapping the man’s neck and killing him instantly. The body slumped to the floor.

  Tony unwrapped the soiled keffiyeh from the man’s head, tossing it to Francesca. “Put this on.”

  The man’s clothes were next.

  While Francesca dressed, Tony removed his vest and dishdashah and put Sarafina back in his sling, talking to her with a gentleness as seasoned as a doting father. “Sweetie, I’m going to hide you under my clothes and we’re going to run out of here and go home.”

  Sarafina’s eyes were listless.

  “Honey,” Tony said. “It’s important that you stay real quiet. Do you understand? Is it okay if I hide you under my big shirt?”

  Sarafina’s eyes stared right through him, but he caught a slight nod of her head.

  He unrolled his dishdashah over her and pulled on his vest, whispering into the top of his shirt. “Hold tight.” He was rewarded with a tug from her fists.

  Francesca was ready, the tail of her keffiyeh wrapped over her nose and mouth. She had picked up the soldier’s AK-47 and was holding it in front of her like a pro. Tony was impressed. Her soft features would never stand up to close scrutiny, but in the darkness her disguise just might work.

  Checking to make sure the AK’s safety was on, Tony said, “I don’t want you to try to use that thing. It’s just part of the disguise. Got it?”

  Francesca nodded.

  “No matter what happens, stay right behind me. Don’t stop for anything. And when I tell you to run, drop the rifle and fly.”

  Francesca shuddered. She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and sucked in a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Thank you for your help, Tony. Jake…is lucky to have you as a friend.”

  Tony’s mouth tightened. He couldn’t believe he’d come this far only to leave Jake behind. The one last thing he could do for his buddy was to get the girls to safety. He was going to make that happen. He gave a quick update to Becker over his comm unit and confirmed the location of the claymores. Not wanting to freak Francesca out any more than necessary, he checked her disguise one last time and said, “When we get outside, it’s important that we stick close to the rock wall on our right. Understand?”

  Francesca nodded, but from the fear in her eyes, Tony wasn’t sure it registered.

  He captured her gaze. “This is important, Francesca. Along the right wall only, okay?”

  “I understand,” Francesca said, her voice shaking.

  With Francesca behind him, Tony entered the main corridor and turned toward the exit, walking with purpose through the gauntlet of Battista’s soldiers. He noticed that something had changed. The air was thick with tension, the familiar clicks of weapon checks bounced off the walls around him. They were about to make their move.

  Ten paces from the exit, Tony saw a large man silhouetted against the thinning fog that swirled at the mouth of the cave. He had one hand raised in the air like a starter at a relay race. His other hand held a comm unit to his mouth.

  Tony rushed forward, his voice low but urgent. “Hold, you fool! He’s ordered us to wait. Check the alternate frequency.”

  In an organization ruled by fear, no one dared disobey the leader’s orders. Tony was counting on that. He only needed a few seconds.

  The man’s hand came down and he fiddled with the frequency knob on his comm unit.

  Tony and Francesca moved past him into the fog.

  The officer’s response was immediate. “Stop where you are!”

  Tony grabbed Francesca by the arm and started to run, hoping that the thinning mist covered their backs. He steered her toward the right wall of the clearing just as a blast of gunfire ricocheted off the earth where they had just been. Tony rushed her forward. “Run!”

  Francesca dropped her rifle and sprinted along the wall. Tony stayed behind her, shielding her body from the bullets that bit into the ground beside them. He heard a shouted command followed by a pounding of boots.

  **

  Becker tensed when he heard the muffled gunshots coming from the other end of the foggy vale. Tony and Francesca were in trouble.

  Tony’s breathless voice filled Becker’s headset. “We’re moving fast but they’re right on our tail.”

  “Stay glued to that right wall, Sarge!” Becker said.

  Damn this wind, thought Becker. In a couple of minutes it would be clear enough for Battista’s men to make their move, more than one hundred of them. They had to get off this mountain, and quick.

  Radioing the team, Becker yelled, “Heads up! Sarge and the girl should be through any second, and they’ve got company.” He flipped his HUD to infrared to try to get a glimpse of them before they popped out of the thinning fog.

  “Juice,” Becker said into his mike, “as soon as they get here, lead them to the cliff ASAP. Tark is waiting for them with the gear. The rest of you, waste anything that moves.” Becker had the remote control for the twin fifty-caliber auto-turrets in his hand, the safety guard flipped up, his thumb on the arming switch. It was the last trick he had up his sleeve. He hoped it would be enough.

  On the infrared screen of his HUD, he caught a glimpse of two pink-tinged figures moving fast. A couple of beats later, Francesca and Tony popped through the mist, breathing hard. Before they were two paces into the clearing, Becker saw several more glowing figures on his HUD right behind them. “Tangos!”

  Two shots rang out from Maria’s sniper rifle on the ridge behind him. Two of the forms crumpled inside the mist. The dozen that followed spread out in the fog and kept coming, somehow avoiding the remaining five claymores. Their AK-47s were firing blind
ly ahead of them. The team returned fire and the night was blistered with staccato blasts from a score of automatic weapons. Tracer rounds from Ripper’s LWRC rifle speared the fog. Becker held his breath, waiting for Tony and Francesca to get past the boulder that marked the edge of the twin auto-turrets’ field of fire.

  Becker saw Tony shove Francesca behind the large boulder, just before he was spun around by one of the AK’s heavy 7.62mm rounds hitting him in the arm. Tony landed hard on his side, but was able to drag himself around the rock.

  Becker smashed his thumb on the arming button. The black barrels of both weapons spun in unison from their crossfire positions on either side of the clearing, aimed at the heat signatures popping through the fog. The deep-thrumming, 260-rounds-per-minute explosions of the heavy grain shells drowned out the assault weapons, making them sound like pop guns by comparison. The huge slugs ripped through Battista’s men like red-hot pokers through lard. All of the lead targets went down, a dozen or more men ripped to shreds in less than four seconds. The guns went quiet and re-centered on their turrets, waiting patiently for their next target.

  **

  Tony sat up, his heart pounding in his ears. His left arm was on fire and bleeding badly. The round had missed the bone and passed clean through the meat of his muscle but it still hurt like hell. Sarafina shuddered against his chest, a quivering whimper leaking from under his dishdashah. He patted her back through his clothes. “It’s okay, honey. We’re with friends now. You did great.”

  While Tony spoke he studied Francesca sitting next to him. The fright in her eyes seemed to soften as she listened to Tony’s soothing words to Sarafina.

  “Slow, deep breaths,” Tony said.

  Juice moved over to them in a low crouch, his huge hands moving with the speed and dexterity of an ER doctor. He pulled a SOF Tactical Tourniquet from his pack and cinched it tight above the wound in Tony’s arm. He checked for a zero pulse below the strap to confirm it was set correctly and then jabbed a syringe of local anesthetic above and below the wound. He spoke while he worked. “Any holes I can’t see?”