by Jason Brant
Confusion stopped the officer in his tracks while he stared at the fleeing people.
"What the—" he said before bleating from his radio interrupted him.
"We got shots fired! Multiple officers down! Get units up here now! We need medical now! Send everyone! The president has been shot!"
"My God." He stood there, looking over the chaotic, onrushing crowd.
Were we too late? Did Murdock already murder the president?
Through my hazy vision I could see the officer’s internal struggle as he tried to decide whether he should continue to detain us or rush to help his brothers in uniform. His eyes darted back and forth from us to the end of the street.
He grabbed his shoulder mic and leaned into it. "Ten four." Looking down at me, he pushed his gun forward for emphasis. "Stay here! Do not move!"
"I wouldn't go if I were you," I said.
"Shut up and stay down!"
Plunging into the crowd, he disappeared, likely to his death, as more shots rang out.
"What exactly do we hope to accomplish here? I weigh ninety pounds, her IQ is ninety, and you're moving around like you're ninety," Nami said. "You want us to head to the gunshots and Murdock? There's a whole lot of shit-your-pants going on over there."
That pretty much summed up how screwed we were.
"Is ninety good?" Sammy asked.
"I don't expect 'us' to accomplish anything. I'm going in there alone. You guys need to blend in with the crowd and get out of here."
Ahead of us, the elderly woman who hit our car with her cane was knocked to the ground by a heavyset man as he wobbled away from the violence. People always act more like animals than humans when they're scared.
"We need to get her off the sidewalk and against the building or she's going to get trampled to death," I said as I pointed towards her. My arm felt like it was made of lead.
With Sammy's help I struggled onto my good leg and hobbled forward. Panic had overtaken the old woman and she struggled against me when I tried to pull her out of harm's way. As we got closer to the building she seemed to realize what I was trying to do and started pushing with her legs, helping us get the last few feet.
"What's going on?" she asked as she settled against the building.
"A new Apple product must be launching. I need to borrow your cane for a little while," I said.
I tried dodging the stampeding people as best I could while hopping, on my undamaged leg, in the direction of her cane. A shoulder slammed into my chest just as I shifted my weight onto the walking stick, reminding me that something had been knocked loose in there.
The cane itself was stout and knotty with a large knob at the end. Its heft made it strong enough to support my weight. It would make for a nice club if necessary, though I wasn't sure swinging it would be possible in my current condition.
Sammy and Nami watched from the front of the Explorer, not wanting to abandon me.
"Ash, don't go in there. Come with us, please!" Sammy said, her eyes moistening. I could barely hear her over the noise of the rushing people and the thoughts bouncing around in my head. "What can you do against Murdock? You can't even walk!"
"Tits McGee is right: you can't win this. If Murdock doesn't kill you, Smith will."
They were right of course. I couldn't win. Maybe I could even the playing field a bit though.
"Smith tried to kill us. I have to return the favor. Nevada, make sure you get Sammy as far from here as possible."
Blaring sirens approached from almost every direction. If they didn't get out of here soon, they wouldn't be able to at all. Their hesitation told me that they knew this was probably going to be a one-way ticket for me.
"Go, damn it! If you get arrested, who knows what will happen to you."
Nami turned to Sammy and gave her a gentle push in the direction everyone was fleeing. After a few seconds they were swallowed by the group and disappeared.
Pushing off with the cane, I went off to see what trouble I could stir up.
Chapter 21
The advancing agents began firing as soon as they sighted their fellow protectors. Several Secret Service agents in the front of the stage managed to draw their guns and return fire, though most never had a chance to react. Blood from the nearest victim sprayed onto the stage by Thomas' feet. He jerked back in shock and revulsion.
The crowd, unruly only seconds before, was stunned into silence.
Spinning around, the president faced the men who were sworn to protect him.
"James, what the he—"
The agent he addressed shot him in the foot. A roar of agony escaped him as he fell to the floor clutching his injured extremity.
Chaos ensued as the bystanders tried to escape in every direction.
Police officers that had been placed throughout the crowd came running forward, weapons drawn. Officer Jones, a short but very muscled man, stopped at the edge of the stage, gun pointed at the agent who just shot the president.
"Freeze!"
Instead of complying, the agent swung his pistol toward the officer. Jones didn't hesitate, putting a bullet through the agent's left eye, sending him crashing backward. Leaping up beside the podium, he reached for the wounded POTUS when his stomach burned as if it caught fire. Looking down, he saw a soupy redness spreading across the front of his uniform. Two more rounds punctured his chest, sending him tumbling over the podium.
Murdock stood in place, reveling in the madness. Helpless fools ran around him like chickens with their heads cut off. The sounds of approaching sirens only meant more kindling for the fire.
One of the president's advisors ran onto the stage, trying to drag him away. Murdock had one of the three remaining agents shoot her in the temple from point blank range. President Thomas yelled in confusion and fear as he tried to stop her brains from leaking out.
Look at the most powerful man in the free world, shouting and crying like the weakling he is.
President Thomas strained his neck around in every direction, trying to see where the voice came from.
You shouldn't have left me to die in that hellhole. Watch what your stupidity has wrought.
Murdock ignored his pleading and attempts at justification. If he thought he could debate his way out of this then he was more incompetent than anyone knew.
A black limousine tore across the field behind the monument, dodging fleeing people by inches. As the presidential state car slowed by the stage, Murdock locked onto the driver's mind, forcing him to mash the accelerator to the floor.
Swerving into the crowd, he plowed through them, painting the grill and hood red. People crunched under the fender as the large car cut a path like a snowplow in the winter. Looking through the driver's eyes, Murdock spotted a woman pushing a stroller as fast as she could, trying to get her baby to safety. Angling the limo at them, he let out a maniacal laugh while he wondered if this would get him a double point score.
Chapter 22
The scene playing out in front of me was complete anarchy. Secret Service agents littered the stage and ground, blood pooling around their bodies. President Thomas crawled on his stomach toward the far side platform. People were being trampled by each other as they tried to escape the carnage. The pops of gunfire continued as more agents and police officers tried to contain the situation, only to turn on each other a moment later.
Just as I stepped across Fifteenth Street, the mental tunnel formed with Murdock. I had been counting on this, hoping it would dampen all of the voices clouding my thoughts. It worked, and I could think clearly again. Unfortunately, the raw power of Murdock's mind threatened to smother me.
The cane in my hand wobbled as I tried to repress his booming voice in my head.
You!
Through the thinning sea of people I could see a black limousine barreling through them. Just as it was about to run down a young mother running with a stroller, it swerved away and crashed into a tree. The horn blared as the driver's body struck the steering wheel. The sudde
nness of our mental connection had loosened his control just long enough for the driver to dodge the woman and her child.
The anger billowing from Murdock made me want to turn around and hobble my ass out of there.
You ruined my fun.
Two men on my right fell to the ground, blood splattering my arm and face, as gunfire barked behind me. Afraid of falling down and not being able to get back up, I pushed my way deeper into the fray. An officer appeared ahead and marched straight for me, raising a shotgun to his shoulder. Putting my weight on my good leg, I swung the cane up, knocking the barrel of the gun into the air. Its boom rattled my teeth. The momentum of the swing sent me crashing forward, landing against his chest and jarring the cane out of my hand.
Bullets whizzed overhead as we moved around in a bizarre tango, struggling over the shotgun. Murdock had more cops shooting as. My grip gave way as a bullet ripped through my left shoulder, sending fiery pain down the length of my arm. The impact shoved me backward, instincts taking over as I tried to catch myself with my useless leg. The knee succumbed to my weight before I realized what happened.
Murdock cackled inside my head as I sprawled on the lawn in extreme misery. My body called it quits: moving was no longer an option. Warmth spread from my shoulder to my torso and neck. The cop I had struggled with repositioned the shotgun in his hands and pointed it at my face.
The cane cracked across the top of his skull, making a sickening sound like a watermelon being dropped. His unconscious body crumpled down, landing in a bizarre sitting position, revealing Sammy standing behind him. She held the cane in both hands the same way a logger holds an axe.
I'd never been so happy and terrified to see someone in my entire life.
"Sammy, no! You have to get out of here!"
"I was going to, but I just couldn't let you do this alone." Her eyes fell on my bloody shoulder. "Oh my God, are you shot?"
"Sammy, run!"
Not fair. You shouldn't have people helping you. Let's relieve her of duty.
Her body stiffened.
I'll be making sure she knows exactly what's happening to her. That's a privilege I usually save for those I truly hate, but I'll make an exception for you.
With a harsh kick, she knocked the body of the cop forward onto his face. Bending down, she picked up the shotgun and cocked a shell out of it.
I tried to push myself up, but my body couldn't do it. I'd taken too much damage to be able to stand, let alone wrestle the gun away from her.
Lowering the butt, Sammy placed the end of the barrel under her chin. Her index finger rested against the trigger. A tear, forming in the corner of her glistening eye, spilled down her cheek.
Murdock, stop! Smith is here!
Chapter 23
The wounded and deceased were the only civilians who still remained in the field surrounding the monument. Most of the president's guard detail were dead. The remaining few stood in a circle around President Thomas, their guns pointed at him to prevent his escape.
Wailing cries of pain permeated the air.
Dozens of bodies in blue police uniforms were scattered across the lawn. It looked like an entire department had been wiped out. About seventy-five yards from the stage stood a man, all alone, wearing a brown sweatshirt and baseball cap. He didn't appear to have moved the entire time. I knew right away he was Murdock.
More cops arrived every second, encircling the entire area. They stopped trying to get closer to the president, because every one that did ended up shooting himself or turning on the other officers. Now they hid behind the open doors of their patrol cars, shouting at us over loud speakers, their confusion apparent in their voices.
Sammy stood in front of me, as motionless as a statue.
You're lying.
He's here. You didn't escape the cemetery: he let you leave. Smith's been tracking you ever since, waiting for you to do exactly what you're doing now. The moment you assassinate the president he's going to take you out.
The man in the sweatshirt turned around, looking in every direction.
Where?
Let her go and I'll tell you.
Murdock started walking to where we were. Behind him I could see the four remaining Secret Service agents grab one of Thomas' limbs each and carry him to us. He struggled against them, yelling their names in an attempt to get through Murdock's control. It didn't work.
Tell me now or I kill poor little Samantha. Then I'll start on the coward Thomas.
He stopped about fifteen feet from us, the entourage behind him arriving a few moments later. They threw the president on the ground between us and them. The look of absolute horror on his face told me all I needed to know about his courage. He was a chicken hawk after all.
"Help me!"
His fear made him irrational. Anyone with two eyes could see that I was out of this fight. All I could do at this point was bleed on the grass.
"What do you want me to do, use harsh language?"
"Shut up," Murdock said as he kicked President Thomas in the face. The whimpering that followed would have made me feel sorry for him, if I didn't know what type of man he was.
"Tell me where Smith is."
I rolled onto my back and looked in the opposite direction of the monument, toward the White House. On the far side of Constitution Avenue, between us and the police blockade, sat a black SUV with tinted windows. When I scanned Chuck's mind at the hotel, that vehicle had been his rendezvous point after eliminating Sammy and Nami.
Smith didn't divulge his entire plan to his bodyguards, but Chuck did know that they were to capture Murdock after he killed the president. They were going to tranquilize him with the same drugs they used on me, and then drag him off somewhere. Chuck wasn't privy to what would happen after that, but I'm guessing Murdock's future wouldn't be enjoyable.
My only play was to try and get either Smith or Murdock to kill the other. If they became distracted with each other, maybe one of the Secret Service agents could do something.
The sound of an approaching helicopter added to the clatter of sirens and loudspeakers.
Murdock squinted at the SUV, as if concentrating on it. The distance from us to it appeared to be over three hundred yards, which was supposedly the maximum range for his abilities. Smith knew to stay at least that far away. After several seconds Murdock relaxed his body and smiled.
"I'm here, Smithy, come and get me!" he yelled, raising his arms in a beckoning gesture.
A large dart impacted on the side of his shoulder, twisting his torso. He reached up and pulled it out, looking to his left for the shooter. Smith's other tough guy, the Jackie Chan lookalike, stood at the tree line along the edge of the Constitution Gardens. He had a tranquilizer rifle tucked against his shoulder.
In front of me I could see Sammy's muscles loosen a little. The drug was already taking its toll on Murdock. The agents standing over the president were also gaining their mobility back as they started turning away from Thomas.
They must have given Murdock a hefty dose because he started staggering sideways within seconds. The agents pounced on him after he crashed to the grass. Though he lost his ability to control people, our odd connection remained the same.
Sammy collapsed to her knees, sobbing. I would have consoled her, but I was busy bleeding all over myself.
A door opened on the black SUV and Smith stepped out. An officer ordered him to halt, but he kept going as he flashed a badge in their direction.
"President Thomas, don't believe anything he's about to tell you. They wanted you to be assassinated," I said.
One of the agents started attending to his injured foot, causing him to wince in pain.
"Who? Smith?" he asked.
"No. Snow White and Seven Dwarves."
The bewilderment on his face made me feel sorry for the state of American politics. At least I could say I didn't vote for him.
"Yes, Smith," I said, raising my voice over the sound of the helicopter. "He wants you out of the way
so he can keep operating his program."
The chopper had come from the direction of the White House and appeared to be Marine One, the president's Marine Corps transport. It circled overhead, waiting for a signal to land.
The hundreds of cops that surrounded us began to close in, slowly at first but picking up the pace when no one shot themselves. They did their best to get reporters’ cameras out of the way. The press, as usual, had positioned themselves at terrible angles. Some of them stood in the line of fire, oblivious to the guns pointed at their backs.
Smith and Jackie jogged over to us, arriving at the same time. Smith tried to cover the stunned look on his face when he saw me lying there, but it slipped through for a split second.
"Mr. Benson, your presence is quite a surprise. The police are going to be very pleased to see you."
"You know this man?" Thomas asked him.
"Enforcer is ready for pick up," one of the agents said into his radio. Enforcer must have been the Secret Service call sign for the president, which I found laughable. By the looks of him, he couldn't enforce his own bladder.
The circling aircraft started its descent, intending to land in the field beside us.
"Mr. Benson has been working with Murdock in an attempt—" the lying bastard started to say. I couldn't make out anything else over the roar of the helicopter's rotors.
Everyone around me tensed up at the same time. The helo, which was about to land, began climbing into the air. The agent who had his knee driven into Murdock's back stepped away and stood at attention. Murdock pushed himself off the ground and turned to face us, his body convulsing with laughter.
The helicopter climbed a few hundred feet and then banked to its right at an incredible angle, its speed increasing.
Debris from the rotor spiraled away as Marine One crashed into the Washington Monument.
