Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology

by J. Tobias Buller

  May sat on the floor and dressed up a doll. "Daddy, that was hours ago. You can't still be tired."

  "Food only makes me more tired, May." Alexander grinned.

  She huffed. "That's silly. Food makes me more interjetic."

  "Energetic, May."

  "That's what I said. Interjetic."

  Alexander chuckled and leaned back. Almost involuntarily, he glanced out the window. The street was empty, as it had been for the last two hours. One way or another, though, the man at the superstore had put Alexander on edge. He felt like someone would jump out at any corner.

  The police last night were nice, but the officer had informed him that they would be heading out once dawn came to make their rounds. They'd swing by the house periodically late in the night to make sure everything looked all right.

  Alexander shook the thoughts out of his head. He grabbed his touchpad off of the table and turned it on.

  "Why do people walk instead of taking cars, Daddy?" May brushed her doll's hair and looked out the window.

  Alexander shrugged. "Some people like exercise and fresh air. Why do you ask?"

  May pointed out the window. "Because there's a man walking out there."

  A chill went down Alexander's spine. Setting the touchpad beside him, he turned and looked out the window again.

  Across the street stood a dark-haired man, staring straight at Alexander.

  "May," Alexander murmured, turning back to May, "go get your mother."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it, please."

  May stood up with her doll in hand and ran down the hallway.

  When Alexander turned back to the window, the man was starting across the street...and heading straight for the house.

  ************

  "There! Look at the sign!" Brownbarr pointed out the window at a highway sign. "Take that exit. My sister's house is two blocks past the main road.”

  Mothinghotch bent down the exit road that was just past the sign and merged onto a smaller road that led into the town where Brownbarr's sister lived. As he did so, however, the car sputtered.

  "What was that?" Brownbarr said. "What's wrong with the car?"

  "Well, sir, you said not to stop for anything..."

  Brownbarr growled, "Tell me, Mothinghotch!"

  Mothinghotch shifted in his seat, steadying the car with one hand. "We're sort of out of gas, sir."

  "What?"

  "You said not to stop!"

  "We can't very well get there if we're out of gas, you dimwit!"

  "I just follow orders, sir."

  "And you leave your common sense at the front door!"

  At that last word, the car sputtered again and then died. Mothinghotch used the momentum to pull the car over on the side of the road while Brownbarr raged.

  Brownbarr threw open the door and got out.

  "What are you doing, sir?"

  "Getting a blasted taxi!" Brownbarr stalked down the road with his hands thrust in his pockets. "And if that fails, I'm walking. My sister's life is on the line, Mothinghotch, and I'm not risking it because of your stupidity!”

  Mothinghotch opened the driver's door and stumbled out. "I'm coming, sir, wait up."

  ************

  Alexander followed May down the hall. Mary met him halfway, a look of concern in her eyes. "What is it, Alex? What's wrong?"

  "Someone's watching the house."

  "Alex, I'm sure it's just—"

  Three rapid knocks sounded at the front door. "Open up," a male voice said.

  Mary's face paled. "I know that voice,” she whispered.

  The man's words drifted down the hallway in a sickening singsong tone. "Oh yes, Torreys. I'm the man who's been calling you. Open up, little Torreys. Will Vullerman is gone and I need to make my thirteenth call."

  Alexander swallowed. "Lock yourselves in the bedroom," he said, his voice low. "I'll hold him off and try to call the police."

  "But—"

  "Do it, Mary."

  She turned and fled down the hallway.

  "Tooooorrreeeeys...I'm coming. I'm coming for you, Torreys." The man laughed.

  Alexander ran to the living room and crawled along the floor so the man couldn't see him through the window. He reached the phone and grabbed it.

  "No signal" filled the screen.

  "Are you trying to call the police, Alexander? Hm?" The man's voice sounded closer. Alexander looked up—and jerked back.

  The dark-haired man was peering in through the living room window. His gaze locked on Alexander, and a slow grin touched the man's lips. Alexander stood up and backed away, but the man's voice followed him. "I've corrupted the signal, Alexander. There's no communication coming in...or going out. You can't call for help now.”

  Alexander ran back down the hallway to his bedroom, the insistent knocking on the door following him. Then the knocks turned into bangs. Alexander glanced behind him—the door was shuddering with each bang. Alexander bit his lip. The man was kicking the door in!

  A gunshot sounded, and the door handle clattered to the floor. Alexander turned and swallowed hard. A weapon! He needed a weapon! The man had a gun—what could Alexander do?

  His gaze roved the hallway, but there was nothing but pictures on the wall. Alexander grabbed a framed picture of his family and hurled it at the door. The glass shattered all over the floor.

  "Now, now, Alexander." The door creaked open and the man stepped inside, his shoes crunching on the glass. "Don't play rough. I hate messy jobs." In one hand he held an old-fashioned revolver, his finger resting on the trigger.

  Alexander backed up as the man strode forward. The man leveled the gun at Alexander's chest. Alexander's breathing hitched. Lord, was this how he was going to die? A gunshot to the heart with the screams of his family in his ears?

  “Get back!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. He grabbed another picture off the wall and held it in front of him. “Get back, or I'll kill you!”

  The man's revolver pointed at Alexander's chest. The man leaned forward, his dark-eyed gaze drilling into Alexander's eyes. "Have you ever killed someone, Alexander? It is...exquisite. It's the greatest power you could ever have: the life of another man in your hands as he screams for mercy."

  Alexander tried to collect himself and slow his breathing. "You'll have no screaming from me."

  The man shrugged. "Either way, you end up dead. It'll be such a blow to your brother-in-law, you know. And I had an unexpected bonus: this will be one of the few failures of Will Vullerman. And this one will destroy him, bit by bit...haunted by his failure."

  Alexander couldn't tear his gaze away from the man's face. A grin twisted his features. Not a grin of humor, but of malicious pleasure. The grin of a man wholly given over to evil.

  And then came the voice from behind them both. That familiar voice.

  "That's what you think."

  The man turned and shot wildly, but the bullet buried itself in the wall in a spray of sheetrock, missing the man standing in the doorway: Will Vullerman.

  ************

  Will glared at the man, his jaw set and his teeth clenched. It was about time he had confronted this man face to face. Will took a step forward.

  The man, however, brought up his revolver again with a hoarse laugh. "You've come in here with no weapon, Vullerman. And I've got a gun."

  "I've been waiting a long time to talk with you," Will said, striding forward. The man took a step back, keeping his revolver pointed at Will.

  "Stop! I'll shoot. I'll shoot—" The man grabbed Mr. Torrey and put the barrel of the pistol to Mr. Torrey's head. "I'll shoot him. Stay where you are."

  Will stopped. "You can't do this forever," he said. "The law is going to catch up to you." He tensed, ready to jump on the man if he proved to be unreasonable. But brute force was no match for a revolver, was it?

  "But you realize...you realize that they'll die before the law ever finds me." The man was breathing hard. "And you'll die too. I'll write the words
of my thirteenth call in your blood on the walls of this home and tell the world that I've had my satisfaction."

  "You're sickening. Even more so than the last time I saw you. Did a few days trapped in the Reality Ring break your sanity?"

  The man hissed. "You'll pay dearly for that, Vullerman. Your death will be long and bloody. But first, I'll have you see the deaths of your friends. It'll be your last failure. Your last great failure."

  "It's not me who's failed. It's you." Will gave a small smile and pointed behind the man.

  The man pivoted, shoving Mr. Torrey away and aiming in the same motion. But behind the man stood Danton Brownbarr and his aide, both with guns pointed straight at their target.

  "Drop the gun,” Brownbarr said, his voice deadly.

  The revolver clattered to the ground.

  “You're under arrest for murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, and violating international law." Brownbarr's voice was deep and angry. "And for threatening my family."

  "Thank you, Director Brownbarr." Will stepped forward and picked up the revolver off the floor. "You're just in time."

  "And you just barely kept your job, Vullerman. Cut it that close again and I'll hang you myself."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Will stood beside the man and looked him in the eyes. "You didn't have time for your last call, did you?”

  The man growled deep in his throat. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you with my bare hands.”

  "Not too likely. You won't be needing your comm where you're going, right? I need to dial the police." Will searched the man's pockets and came up with a comm. "Ah, there we are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make your thirteenth call."

  ************

  Will Vullerman knocked on the smooth Paper-Plast door, just below the shiny steel nameplate. He read it for the thousandth time: “Danton Brownbarr, Director of the ASP”. Below it, there was a handwritten note: “KNOCK, OR BE FIRED”.

  The speaker next to the door crackled. “If you're from the Peacekeeping Department, don't bother coming in. I don't care a whit about your vouchers.”

  Will pushed the button and cleared his throat. “Agent Will Vullerman, sir, here for debriefing.”

  “Vullerman? Come in. Close the door behind you.” The speaker went off, and Will pulled the handle of the door, slipping in and closing the door behind him.

  Brownbarr looked up from his mahogany desk and picked up his touchpad, setting it symmetrically opposite to his notebook on the other side of the desk. “Come in, sit down, and debrief quickly.”

  Will sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of the desk. “Sir.”

  “Well?”

  Will gestured to Brownbarr's touchpad. “The full details of the mission have been sent in an encrypted file to your personal account. However, protocol demands that I debrief in person, so...”

  “So follow protocol, and don't hem-haw about it.” Brownbarr tapped his fingers on the desk. “You can sync your tablet to the wall.”

  “Right. The mission.” Will synced his touchpad and pulled up a familiar picture on the wall screen. “As far as intelligence can tell, the all of the phone-call business was done by the same man. He's been cross-examined with a truth serum, so now we know some stuff we didn't know before. His name is Mahmed Singh, mastermind of the AAA. Part of his recruitment strategy was to begin terrorizing the American population in eastern Europe and western Asia by killing local Americans that had been relocated.”

  Will pulled up a map that showed the estimated path that Singh had taken across Asia and Europe. “In order to strike a blow against you, Director, he decided to target your sister. He began the threatening calls. He also sent a letter from a local post office and corrupted the return address so that it couldn't be traced. While he was doing so, however, he was being tracked down by ASP agents. One agent got too close, so Singh murdered him. As he neared your sister's house, he changed time zones. He called at the same local time in whatever time zone he was in, however.” Will selected a map detailing the time zones of the area.

  Brownbarr nodded. “That's why he called at increasingly earlier times in the day.”

  “Yes, sir. The man who broke into your sister's house was a lucky break for Singh. It provided him an opportunity to shake me, and the ASP, off of his trail. Once he had suitably framed the man, it was simple. He used a comm stolen from the murdered ASP agent to engineer a fake phone call from you, Director, to me, and thus sent me away so he could do his dirty work.”

  Will played the faked call, and then resumed his debrief. “He didn't count on you following his trail, however, and he trusted too much in his power of concealment. I managed to find out the call was a fake and turned my plane around. And so when my taxi picked you up on the road, sir, we managed to get to the house in time to apprehend him.”

  “Very good, Vullerman. Is that all?”

  “Yes. I'm pretty sure you know all of it, sir, so I'm not sure why this is necessary.”

  “All except the bit about the time zones, yes.” Brownbarr shifted in his seat. “The real reason I needed to debrief you was to have a private place to say thank you. My sister would be dead by now if you weren't willing to take on the job.”

  “You are welcome, sir.”

  Brownbarr continued, “I can arrange to have extra money transferred to your vacation balance, if you like.”

  Will shook his head. “That won't be necessary.”

  “Good. Yes, very good. I have the utmost respect for you, Vullerman.” Brownbarr leaned back in his chair. “I understand you are going on vacation now?”

  “Sort of.”

  Brownbarr raised an eyebrow.

  “I decided that my vacation credit was best used elsewhere.” Will cracked a small smile. “I made a donation to the International Fund for American Relief and earmarked it for some...friends of mine.”

  “I see.” Brownbarr folded his hands on the table. “Well, Vullerman, I'll see you back at HQ once your vacation leave is up.”

  Will stood up. “Yes, sir.”

  He strode forward and turned the handle of the door, but Brownbarr called after him: “Hold up, Vullerman. What in the blazes are you going to do at home for three weeks?”

  Will looked back and shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I guess I'll do some literary exploration. I have a hardback copy of Sherlock Holmes that I've been meaning to read.”

  Then he slipped out the door, and closed it behind him.

  THE IMMORTAL MAN

  Will Vullerman stepped into the warehouse.

  And a bullet crashed into the doorway beside his face and sent bits of concrete flying. Duck, his mind screamed. Duck!

  Will dove to the cement floor and rolled, reaching a metal crate half as tall as he was. He crouched, his back pressed against the crate. He breathed hard. It was nice of intelligence to warn him that the guards at the secret entrance were armed!

  He waited for the next bullet. Any second now...

  Crack. The bullet tore into the concrete wall just a moment later, missing the crate.

  A man jumped through the doorway and executed a perfect dive. An explosion of dust and concrete shards ripped apart the wall where the man had been a moment before. Beside Will, the man's back slammed on the metal crate, and he straightened into a half-crouch.

  Will glared. "Rolvo, you blasted—" Why couldn't Rolvo just follow orders? Stay outside meant stay outside.

  "I'm your superiah, Mr. Vullahman," Rolvo said coolly, brushing the dust off of his bald head. "I can do what I want."

  "You're going to get yourself killed!"

  Rolvo shrugged. "I nevah could resist being on the front line, Mr. Vullahman. And a bust like this is irresistible. Besides, I've survived this long, haven't I?"

  "That's how you got so many scars." Will gritted his teeth. Rolvo might be a brilliant strategist, and the head of the ASP intelligence bureau to boot, but his arrogant side grated on Will's nerves.

  Rolvo traced the long double scars b
eside his left eye, which was locked in a permanent squint. "Perhaps. But don't forget, Mr. Vullahman, I was the ASP's top operative before you had even thought of joining. I can take—"

  Crack-bang! Another bullet ricocheted off of the crate.

  "We don't have time for this." Will peeked around the crate. The other end of the warehouse was several hundred meters away. The concrete walls, stained black with age, rose about ten meters before being topped off by a sheet metal roof. He didn't see the gunman, so he could be anywhere between them and the secret entrance to the hideout, and there were plenty of other crates for the guards to hide behind.

  Nope. There was no way they'd be able to make it to the other end of the warehouse without getting a mouthful of lead.

  "All right, let's—"

  "—go back," Rolvo finished. "I know the game."

  Will's face flushed. "Haven't your men at intelligence found the second entrance yet? This one is obviously guarded.”

  "They would have found it fifteen minutes ago if I was back at HQ, but I'm not, so they haven't. Our mole in the genetics facility hasn't given us enough information to find it quickly, so they have to use satellite."

  "Whatever." Will risked another glance back at the other end of the warehouse, and with another bang, a bullet bounced off of the crate. "Let's get out of here."

  Will jumped from his refuge and sprinted through the doorway, ducking to the side quickly and pressing his back against the concrete wall. A bullet whistled through the doorway and out onto the abandoned street just after Rolvo leaped through the doorway.

  The old street wandered by on either side of them, with grass and weeds growing up in the cracks. Other buildings lined the street, but this warehouse was the only one fit to be used. The others were in various states of disrepair—rusty roofs, decaying concrete, and rotting wood.

  Will checked his comm. It was on, but no call had come in yet. A warning flashed on the tiny screen, however. "Warning: 24 Hour Environmental Disturbance Alert" scrolled across in small letters. "Did you see this warning?"