by E. E. Borton
“Get that sick son-of-a-bitch out of my county,” said Parker. “The sooner you get rid of him, the sooner I get rid of all of you.”
“Deal,” said Ryan.
The sheriff and his deputies stood up and walked out of the briefing. There was little they could do to assist the group assembled in the crowded room. Ryan continued the detailed presentation using maps, photographs, and data provided by the surveillance teams.
“My team, Alpha, will breach the rear of the house. 60 seconds later, Bravo team will enter through the front. Charlie team will cover the rear. Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot teams will take up sniper positions covering every the perimeter of the house. If he gets by the entry teams, you have the green light. If you spot him without handcuffs, kill him. Are there any questions from the snipers on the rules of engagement?”
No questions.
“Arrington is a special forces Marine. We have intelligence that there may be sensors around the perimeter and he can possibly intercept our radio communications. The mission will be conducted with absolute radio silence. Remove the batteries from your cell phones and leave them in the vehicles. No exceptions. Alpha is the only team authorized to break silence. We don’t expect him to be there when we arrive, but we’ll approach and set up as if he was. He’ll exploit and make us pay for any mistakes. Check your gear, check it again, and assemble at the vehicles in twenty minutes for a final briefing.”
The agents filed out of the room to prepare for the mission. There were no rookies or first timers in the group. Every man and woman was experienced and handpicked for the assault and teams. Each received the call and arrived in the small western Virginia town in less than thirty-six hours. The logistics required to put the group together were impressive. They knew very little about Peter Arrington, but they all felt the sense of urgency to put him behind bars or six feet underground. All of the agents cleared the briefing room except Ryan’s team. There were a few items he needed to emphasize to them before the assault.
“I don’t think you’ll be getting a Christmas card this year from the sheriff, Boss,” said Agent Dallas Chase.
“I don’t blame him for being pissed,” said Ryan, working on his second cup of coffee. “Any other situation and warning the public would be our priority. But even if they barricaded themselves in storm cellars, Arrington would still get to them.”
“This guy is no doubt a monster, but he’s still just a man,” said Agent Thomas Freeman.
“Tom, I wish that statement was true,” said Ryan, drawing the team in closer. “The reality is, he isn’t.”
“I don’t spook easy,” said Agent Michelle Dobbs, “but I have to admit you’re creeping me out a little. So you’re telling us Arrington isn’t human?”
“For reasons I can’t disclose at the moment, I’ve had to keep specific information about his condition under wraps. Even though we’re looking to take him down tonight, I won’t be able to answer many of the questions I know you’re about to ask.”
“His condition?” started Dallas with the questions.
Ryan took a long purposeful drink out of his cup to emphasize his next statement. “That one I can answer. Peter Arrington is faster, stronger, and deadlier than any man we’ve hunted. And he’s the weakest of the four Marines we need to find. All of them have been physically and mentally altered by radical gene therapy treatments over the past two years.”
“Okay, now I’m officially creeped out,” said Michelle.
“You should be,” said Ryan. “The fastest human beings on earth can run almost thirty miles per hour, but only for a few seconds. Arrington was clocked at nearly forty, but he sustained the speed for two minutes. The world record for the bench press is just over 1,000 pounds. Arrington bench pressed 1,200. He did it twice before putting the weight down.”
“He doesn’t look like a world record sprinter or weight lifter,” said Tom. “He’s definitely fit, but from his file photos he doesn’t look much bigger than you, Boss. No offense.”
“None taken,” said Ryan. “You also wouldn’t be able to tell his eyesight is comparable to a pair of binoculars, or his hearing and sense of smell is comparable to a K-9. His brain processes information at nearly twice the speed of a normal human. For lack of a better term, this guy was built as a super soldier. All of them were.”
“They were built?” asked Dallas.
“That’s an area where I can’t go into much detail,” said Ryan.
“Can’t or won’t?” asked Michelle.
“I can’t,” responded Ryan. “But mainly because I simply don’t know. I promise each of you I’ll answer with what I do know, but I’ll also tell you if I truly don’t.”
“Okay, so what can you tell us about how and why they were built?” asked Tom.
“I don’t think it shocks any of you that the military has been looking to build a better soldier. Most of the methods they use are strictly regulated by civilian and government oversight committees. Each soldier assigned to the research facility signed consent documents approved by the Department of Health and Human Services as well as the FDA. Both agencies have classified procedures in which civilians don’t have access, but the information is mainly related to the individual results. This isn’t a new process. It’s actually been around for decades.
“As far as the details about how they obtained those incredible results, the scientists at the briefings in D.C. lost me in about ten seconds. They did grab my attention when they started talking about the Marine’s capabilities. The military was highly satisfied with the results until the day all four decided to leave the facility.”
“You said they voluntarily consented,” said Michelle. “Were they confined to the facility?”
“Oddly enough, no,” said Ryan. “They weren’t lab rats. They had weekends off and took vacations. They went home to visit their families like any other soldier.
“These guys weren’t a flight risk. All four were decorated Marines holding Top Secret security clearances. From what I know, they were highly patriotic and highly motivated. Up until the day they disappeared, there were absolutely no indications they were unsatisfied or unhappy with their assignment. They went through constant psychological evaluations. And they passed every time.”
“So, what turned them into monsters?” asked Dallas. “One day they’re super soldier patriots and then the next they’re serial rapist and murderers? Doesn’t make sense, boss.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Ryan. “Regardless of what synapse misfired in their brains, they’re now killers. They’re now a serious threat to anyone or anything they come across. Don’t get me wrong, I asked the deputy director the same question. He gave me a simple answer. He told me to go find them so we could ask.”
“Understood,” said Dallas. “I get your point. Enough said.”
“Right now we need to focus on Arrington,” said Ryan, bringing them back to the mission. “The scientist did tell me there may be a weakness we can exploit. It’s one of the reasons we have to wait until he brings his victim back to the farm. They said Arrington will probably be caught up in the moment right before he starts his sadistic game. He’ll be more focused on satisfying his urge rather than looking over his shoulder for us. Once he gets her inside, we should be able to move into position at the back of the house without alerting him. We’re going to make a quiet entry at the window next to the rear door. They firmly believe it’s going to be our only shot at taking him alive.”
“He runs forty miles per hour and can lift a small car,” said Tom. “How the hell are we going to put cuffs on him?”
“Let me be crystal clear answering that question,” said Ryan. “I’m going to ask him once to put his hands on his head. If he doesn’t comply, I’m going to shoot him. I’m going to shoot him a lot. He’s a deadly weapon regardless if he’s holding one. Do any of you have issue with that approach?”
“I very much like that approach, Boss,” said Dallas.
“I’d even consider skippin
g the hands on the head part,” said Tom.
“I’m with Tom,” responded Michelle.
“Okay,” said Ryan. “I need to call the deputy director and give him a status report before we mount up. I’ll need the room, please.”
With that request, the team left the room and started their final equipment checks with the group outside. Ryan closed the door, took a seat, and looked at his cell phone. He had been hunting Arrington for nearly four months and was confident he would finally be closing his file by sunrise.
But he couldn’t overlook his gut feeling that certain aspects about the mission were a little off. He had more questions than answers about why he was hunting U.S. Marines on American soil. Ryan’s only point of contact was the deputy director of the FBI. All his information, orders, and reports came and went directly through the deputy’s office in Quantico, Virginia. It was a very unorthodox procedure. Agent Ryan Pearson always followed orders with few questions unrelated to successfully completing his assignment. He shook off the uncomfortable feeling and dialed the number which never went to voicemail.
“Director Donaldson, this is Agent Pearson,” confirmed Ryan.
“Hello, Ryan. The brief went well?”
“Yes, sir. This will be my final call prior to the raid.”
“My prayers are with you, son. I wish I could send you every assault team in the Bureau. How are you and your team holding up?”
“We’re good to go, sir. Well rested and well-armed.”
“Good to hear. Ryan, I know this has been a strange assignment and you’ve performed better than I could’ve hoped. I know I’ve asked much of you this past month. It can’t be easy going after Marines from your old unit. Especially with one of them being your friend.”
“Sir, he was an acquaintance, not a friend. And it’s just circumstance we went to the same high school. I have no issue with doing the job when the time comes. It won’t affect the result if it dictates I put one between his eyes.”
“Your ability to do the job has never been a question, Ryan. But I do need to cover a few items again for my own satisfaction.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After the assault, you and your team are to either take him into custody or put him in a body bag. I have a very strong feeling it’ll be the bag. Make every possible effort to limit contact with Arrington to your team only. If any other agent even makes eye contact with him, they’re to be quarantined until the Didache team arrives. Are you clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir, but may I speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“Sir, I appreciate the sensitive nature of this assignment, but I have to admit I’m having an issue with not being able to provide full disclosure of Arrington’s condition to my team.”
“Ryan, I can assure you his affliction is not contagious. I wouldn’t willingly send any of my agents unprotected into a situation which may expose them to an unknown deadly pathogen. It may not sit easy with you, but you simply have to trust me.”
“I do, sir. But I’m about to send nearly two dozen agents into harm’s way without being able to explain what they may witness.”
“Containment is a priority. Please don’t confuse its meaning with cover-up. There are extremely detrimental ramifications if the public was aware at this point. Remember, we still have three out there and no idea where they’re hiding. A public panic would greatly reduce our chances of finding them. That may go against conventional wisdom, but everything about these men defies logic. I concur with my boss this is the best course of action we can take. I’m sorry I can’t make the situation clearer. I’m still working on understanding it all myself. What I do know is, you’re about to save countless innocent lives by taking Peter Arrington down.”
“That’s the plan, sir.”
“Call me the moment you complete the mission. It’s critical we allow the scientific team access to the scene as soon as possible to process Arrington. Dead or alive, they believe he’ll provide clues to the whereabouts of the other three.”
“What about the victim? Am I to quarantine her as well?”
“Absolutely. Anyone having contact with him must be quarantined with the only exception being your team. But as we discussed, all of you are to stay with the scientists until they release you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Do you have anything else for me?
“I do. Good luck and Godspeed, son. Send that monster to hell if he doesn’t comply.”
“Will do, sir.”
3
And Then There Were Three
The assault and sniper teams were dropped off at various entry points nearly a mile away from the target farmhouse. They used satellite imagery to plan routes that focused on avoiding roads, houses, and any human contact. As the sun was setting, the teams arrived at their staging areas surrounding the property.
The snipers created blinds rendering them nearly invisible. A passerby would have to step on one of their heads to know a human was under his feet. Each shooter had a kill zone around the house they were responsible for covering. The zones overlapped, ensuring there wasn’t an inch of space left unseen by their high-powered scopes. The technology used in the optics turned pitch black night into clear day. Each sniper passed the time by locking his site on small rodents scurrying back and forth between the dilapidated barn and the abandoned farmhouse.
Assault Team Bravo staged in a wooded area resembling an island on the edge of a dying cornfield. They were less than fifty yards from the front door of the house. It took nearly two hours for them to silently crawl the hundred yards through the open field to reach the cover of the trees. The withered stalks of corn would provide excellent camouflage when the time came to quickly close the distance to the door.
Ryan’s team, Alpha, and Charlie team quietly made their way along a shallow creek bed that snaked around to the back of the farm. They’d stay hidden behind the steep bank until nightfall. Once the blanket of darkness covered the landscape, Alpha and Charlie would rise out of the muddy staging area and take positions along the tree line separating the house from the creek. From their vantage point, they could easily spot the target’s vehicle approaching the farmhouse. His approach was the signal for all three assault teams to begin moving in closer.
Since radios couldn’t be used to transmit execution orders, hand signals were their only option to maintain silence on the approach. Each FBI agent was equipped with the latest generation of military grade night vision goggles (NVGs) with zoom lenses. It was critical Charlie team maintain visual contact with both Alpha and Bravo prior to the raid. When Ryan’s team entered the house, Charlie would signal Bravo to move to the front door and start the sixty-second clock. Charlie would then take its position at the back door. The green light for the snipers would be observing the assault team’s positioning at the doors.
None of the teams came across any trip wires, motion detectors or other hidden detection equipment which would alert Arrington to their presence. Ryan observed the house from the creek bed and noticed there were several open windows without covering. If the farmhouse was Arrington’s sanctuary to perform his sick ritual, the highly skilled Marine did an unusually poor job of securing his playground. Ryan began to wonder about the intelligence they were working with which pinpointed that particular house as the killer’s lair. All indications from the outside were they were staking out an abandoned farm unoccupied by anything except rats and mice. As the hours passed, so did their hopes of putting an end to the nightmare.
Four hours after Alpha and Charlie moved up to the tree line, Ryan observed a faint light on the horizon in the direction of the entrance to the driveway. Moments later, it was clear that a vehicle was approaching the house. It was shortly before two o’clock in the morning.
It took nearly three minutes for the Jeep with tinted windows to make its way down the rarely used half-mile long driveway. The vehicle circled the house once and the
n stopped less than ten feet from the back door. It was impossible to see inside the Jeep. To Arrington’s advantage, the headlights were pointed in the direction of Alpha and Charlie teams’ position. Not one agent dared move an inch while the area was illuminated; their NVGs were useless. They’d only amplify the headlights and temporarily blind anyone looking towards the vehicle. They were essentially pinned down as if someone was firing a heavy machine gun over their heads.
Ryan immediately thought the odds of the vehicle circling around and illuminating the exact area where they were hiding by accident were questionable. Arrington was a super soldier. Ryan suspected their position had been compromised. The one thing which would render them ineffective would be to take away their vision, and Arrington seemed to make that happen. The only agents who could positively identify the man behind the wheel were the snipers who were ordered not to break radio silence under any circumstances. Ryan slowly lifted his hand and poised his finger over the transmit button on his collar microphone. He was going to break silence and order the teams to pull back. As his finger tensed to press the button, the lights on the vehicle went dark. Ryan moved his finger away from the microphone and turned on his NVGs. A green hue filled the screen, and Arrington’s face came into focus.
The target was sitting motionless behind the wheel. It was if he was staring directly at Ryan. The agent felt a cold chill invade his body. He was beginning to wonder if the killer was toying with him, daring him to stand up and take his shot. Ryan was still nearly fifty yards away from Arrington, but it wasn’t an impossible distance with his assault rifle. For a moment, Ryan hoped one of his snipers would break protocol and end the monster before he even exited the vehicle. But the FBI wasn’t in the assassination business. They had to give the killer a chance to surrender. It seemed like a ridiculous policy knowing what the evil bastard was about to do to another innocent woman.
With that thought, Ryan took his gaze off of Arrington and tried to verify there was another person in the vehicle. He only saw the driver still motionless in his seat. Another eerie minute passed before Arrington opened the driver’s door and stepped outside. He went out of Ryan’s sight for a moment as he raised the hatchback of the Jeep. He came into view again on the other side carrying a bound and gagged woman effortlessly under one arm and a large duffel bag under the other. He entered the house apparently confident he was alone, letting the screen door clap loudly against the frame.
