by Alex Cage
“Agent Toben?” he asked.
Toben nodded yes, flashing his badge. “You’re the park manager?”
“Yes, sir,” the man answered, shaking Toben’s hand. “Come in.”
They stepped inside, entering the foyer. The layout and décor of the building mimicked that of the main office at the sister location. As two uniformed officers walked in from the lounge area, the park manager threw his index finger in the air.
“One minute, gentlemen,” he said, leaving the group and racing towards the hall in the back.
The two uniformed officers approached Toben and Black. One was young with messy brown hair. He looked fresh out of the academy. The other was clearly older and wore a buzz cut, a chevron mustache, and a gruff expression. He spoke first.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Who are you with?” he asked.
Toben flashed his badge. “DHS,” he said.
The man nodded, walking over to the front door and peering out the window. “That’s your Ford Fusion outside?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
“Have you guys searched the park yet?”
“No, sir, not yet. We have orders to wait for a few more units before we start our search. Politics. I guess they want a captain onsite before we start. They’ll probably be late getting here though, due to the weather and all, but the two of us will be here just in case.”
Toben thanked the officers and they strolled back into the lounge area.
The manager came back. “Sorry about that. I had my boss on the line. Everyone is on edge after what happened at Fantastic Galaxy. So this guy we’re looking for—is he planning on making his move tomorrow?”
“Yes and no,” Black jumped in, not wanting to waste any more time. “We expect him to make a move during the 324 event, but we think he may already be in the park.”
“Really? Where?”
“Where’s the event being held tomorrow?”
“At the Meeting Hall.”
“Can you take us there?”
“Sure. It’s within walking distance.”
The manager led them outside. The light sprinkle of rain had become large drops while they were inside.
“It’s raining hard and there are no guests in the park, so let’s actually take the truck,” the manager said, pointing at the white Blazer.
The three of them entered the vehicle. The manager got behind the wheel and pushed the start button and the engine whirred, but it was quickly drowned out by the echo of the rain hitting the roof. With headlights flicked on, they drove southwest. The car coasted maybe fifty yards before a large building appeared on the right. Black took a long look at it. Through the rearview mirror the manager noticed his gaze.
“That’s the Intergalactic Food Court. It has a food court, arcades, and some souvenir shops inside,” he said before taking a swig from a soda bottle in his cup holder.
“Uh-huh. I see,” Black replied. He looked to his left and saw a large canopy with a bumper car arena underneath, and then a tilt-a-whirl ride and some game booths.
The Blazer continued for another minute as the rain intensified. The manager parked directly in front of the Meeting Hall to avoid having to walk far. The three of them dashed from the car, taking cover under the shelter at the entrance. The manager unlocked the door and they ducked inside, flapping the water from their clothes. It was dark and silent inside, but dry and warm. The manager found a switch and clicked it. Light immediately chased away the darkness. Black walked to the center of the lobby, noting to his right a counter with three computer screens and to his left a hall with a couple of doors on either side. Directly in front of him were dark orange-colored double doors with planets and stars painted on them.
“I’ll check down the hall,” Toben said in a low tone.
“I’ll go with you,” the manager whispered, “just in case you need me to open a door.”
While the two walked down the hall, Black opened the double doors and found an auditorium behind them. It had standard seating with maybe one hundred chairs and had a stage at the very back. The middle aisle was lit with neon lights. Black walked down the aisle towards the stage, swiveling his head and inspecting the rows of seats on both sides. He made it to the stage without finding anything except three more doors along the walls. Three more places Tyler could be hiding. Two of the doors were smaller and on either side of the stage, while a larger door was located at the north wall, to his right. Black started with the door next to the stage, on his right. He grabbed the knob and, hearing footsteps behind him, peeked over his shoulder to see Toben and the park manager making their way down the aisle.
“Find anything?” Toben asked.
Black shook his head. He then opened the door and found a broom, a mop and a bucket, and shelving full of cleaning supplies. As he closed the door, a boisterous clang drifted from the larger door. Everyone turned in that direction.
“You heard that?” the manager whispered.
“What’s behind that door?” Black asked him.
“The—um—the kitchen.”
“Okay, let’s go check it out,” Toben said, unholstering his gun.
They walked to the door. Black pulled the door open and Toben slipped through, gun raised. The manager hung back. Inside, there was a large rectangular table at the center surrounded by a couple of commercial stoves and a few commercial refrigerators. Beyond the far end of the table Black saw scattered pots, pans, silverware, and pooled water on the floor. Behind the mess was a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the corner, with feet nervously tapping up and down, up and down. Black gestured, I see something to Toben who nodded and gestured, I see it too. Black lurked noiselessly towards the tapping feet. Toben circled around the table and tiptoed in the same direction from the opposite side, gun aimed. With each step, the tapping grew louder. The person’s breathing became heavier and heavier. Black made the corner and saw the person they had come for: Tyler Robinson.
19.
HE WAS SITTING on the floor hugging his legs and rocking back and forth. His hands and arms were wet. He looked up at Black with a mix of fear and confusion in his eyes. Toben had his gun trained on the young man.
“Tyler Robinson. I need you to get up, turn around, and slowly place your hands on the table,” he instructed.
Tyler kept his eyes on Black. “I—I can’t do this anymore. The kids. There’s too many children here,” he mumbled with watery eyes.
Black said nothing, just stared at Tyler.
“Get up, turn around, and place your hands on the table,” Toben repeated.
Tyler peered at Toben and did as he was told. Toben frisked him and found a wallet, a pack of Alka-Seltzer, two granola bars, and a small glass tube of the sauce. After cuffing Tyler’s hands behind his back, he removed an evidence bag and placed everything on the table inside it. The young man didn’t put up a fight nor utter a word of protest.
“Let’s go,” Toben said, leading his suspect out of the kitchen by his upper arm.
The manager was waiting outside the door as the three exited. “That’s him?”
“Yep,” Toben answered.
The manager’s eyebrows crunched together and his lips parted. “My—he—he’s just a kid,” he stuttered.
“A very confused kid,” Black commented, brushing past the group.
Everyone walked out of the auditorium and exited the Meeting Hall. Outside, the rain had eased up to a drizzle but there was a bit of thunder and lightning roaring and flashing through the murky sky. The manager locked the door and everyone sprang into the Chevy. Black and Toben sat in the back with Tyler between them. The manager steered them in the direction of the main office.
They drove for a minute in silence before the manager lifted his arm in a gesture of, I almost forgot.
“Oh yeah. I received a call while you were in the kitchen. My security guy up front let someone else in from the government. I figured he was one of you guys,” he said, looking at them thr
ough the mirror.
“Who was it?” Toben asked.
“I don’t remember his name. But he was with one of those three-letter agencies. DA—DH—DI—something.”
“The DIA?” Black asked.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Where is he now?” Black asked, urgency in his voice.
“He should be at the main office by now. Why, what’s wrong?”
The moment the manager uttered the last syllable of his question, four blasts resounded in quick succession. The noise flushed out the hum of the engine and the roar of the thunder. Black heard four small projectiles impact the grill of the SUV and strike the engine block. He knew it was gunfire. The manager lost control of the vehicle, hollering as he swerved to a stop near the entrance of the Intergalactic Food Court. The shots, which had come from the passenger side, stopped firing as everyone crawled out on the driver side of the Blazer.
Tyler dropped to his butt near the back door, panting. The park manager fell to his backside near the front of the SUV.
“Who are they?” he cried with shock and fear in his voice. “They’re trying to kill us.”
“Everybody calm down,” Toben ordered, out of breath, squatting with his gun in hand.
In contrast, Black was calm. His breathing was normal. His face was expressionless. He crouched, peeking around the back of the vehicle. There were four dark shadows approaching from nearly thirty yards away. The figures slowly shaped into the silhouettes of four men as they drew closer. Three of the men had rifles aimed in the direction of the Blazer and the fourth was holding a pistol down by his side. Because of the distance, rain, and darkness, it was difficult to make out any specific features, but Black knew exactly who they were.
“Here’s the situation,” he said, looking at Toben. “Four armed men. Three equipped with assault rifles and more than likely a sidearm and combat knife. The other one only has a pistol from what I can tell.”
“That—that’s a lot more than we have,” the manager panted.
Black looked at Tyler and then Toben. “Uncuff him,” he said.
“What—why?” Toben protested.
“Because he may be the reason we’re still alive.”
“What are you talking about?” Toben asked but reached for his keys to free the young man.
Black didn’t answer. He peeked around the SUV a second time, noticing the men were now about twenty yards away.
“How much ammo do you have?” he asked Toben.
Toben removed the cuffs from Tyler. “A full mag and two spare,” he answered, placing the cuffs in their pouch.
“Okay, we have a fighting chance.”
“How so?” the manager asked, panic in his voice.
“By using our heads and controlling our emotions,” Black answered. “Pull yourself together. Do you have a key to this building?” he asked, pointing to the front door of the Intergalactic Food Court.
“Yes.”
“I need you to have that key handy.”
The manager nodded and started fiddling with his key chain.
“Toben,” Black continued. “Where’s the evidence bag?”
“I left it in the back seat.”
Stooping, Black quickly searched the back seat, finding the evidence bag on the floorboard. He grabbed it and the bottle of soda from the cup holder in the front. On his way out, he glanced through the back passenger side window. It was spotted with rain droplets, but he could see the men fifteen yards away. He crouched back towards the tail of the SUV before placing the soda bottle and evidence bag on the ground slightly under the Blazer. The footsteps of the men were now audible. Black removed the sauce and Alka-Seltzer from the bag before peeking around the back of the vehicle once more. The four men had stopped, still ten yards away. Three of them were dressed similarly in boots, dark pants, dark shirts covered by a tactical vest with a couple of slots for extra rifle magazines, and a handgun strapped to their right thigh. The fourth guy he identified as Stokes. He stood second from the left in the group, pistol in hand. Black ducked back behind the Blazer.
“They stopped,” he announced.
“Agent Toben!” one of the four men shouted, “You back there?”
“Stokes! What do you think you’re doing?” Toben yelled back.
“Send out the kid and we’ll be on our way.”
Tyler looked up at Black. His eyes were wide and his lips trembled. “What—wh—why do they want me?” he asked with tremors in his voice.
“What do you want with the kid, Stokes?” Toben asked.
“Just hand him over and we’ll let you go.”
“That’s not happening,” Black shouted. “The moment you have him you’ll try to kill us.”
“That must be Black. I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You’ll change your mind when I have my hands around your throat.”
“Don’t be foolish, Black. You’re surrounded by trained ex-Special Forces members. So just do the right thing and hand the young man over.”
“Do the right thing,” Black repeated. “Is that what you guys did in Colombia when you stole money from the drug bust?”
There was faint conversation between the four men. After a few seconds Stokes began to chuckle.
“You’ve now managed to give these men more of an incentive to kill you. Look, no one’s coming to your rescue. We tied those two cops in the office up. And now my team wants you, and they have very itchy trigger fingers.”
“They better want me more than your little crony Reeves did!” Black yelled.
“Reeves is washed up. You know that. Enough talking. In ten seconds, we start to shoot.”
“You’re not going to do that.”
“And why not?”
“You won’t risk shooting your son.”
Both Toben’s and Tyler’s mouth gaped opened. Things went silent on Stokes’ side for a few moments.
“Smart,” he finally said. “How did you find out?”
“Reeves said I was in possession of something that could harm your family. It didn’t make sense at first, because I didn’t know anyone in your family. I had to think about what I was in possession of, and the only thing that came to mind was the detonator I picked off your son, Tyler. And then there was Petrak’s daughter admitting she had leverage on Tyler. That’s why you were at her house, to make sure she didn’t have anything that could incriminate your son. But you found something in that white envelope Toben and I saw you take from her house—didn’t you? But even knowing all of this, I was only ninety percent certain he was your son. When you shot at the SUV, you aimed at the engine. You only wanted to stop us because you weren’t sure where Tyler was in the car. After that, I was ninety-five percent certain he was your son.”
Stokes chuckled. “So when were you one hundred percent certain?” he inquired.
“When you asked me how I found out,” Black answered, peeking around the back of the Blazer.
One of the guys in Stokes’ group, the one on the far right, fired a round. The bullet hit the back taillight, barely missing Black’s head as he ducked back behind the vehicle. Rage started to bubble in Black’s gut. Just for that I’ll make sure I take care of you first.
“That was a final warning shot. Toss your weapons to us and send him out. You have till the count of ten before we start shooting,” Stokes demanded.
Tyler held his forehead in his palms.
Black looked at the park manager. “Do you have the key for the building ready?” he asked.
The manager nodded, using the front tire to pull himself into a crouch.
“What are you thinking, Black? You think he’ll shoot?” Toben asked.
“I’m thinking I don’t want to take the chance.”
Stokes began to count. Black opened the soda bottle and ripped open the Alka-Seltzer packet, dropping a tablet in with the soda.
“When this explodes, everyone run for the front door of the building,” Black instructed.
/> Stokes reached seven.
“Okay, okay,” Black shouted.
Stokes stopped counting and the rain became heavier.
“Toben, you’ll have to provide cover for everyone,” Black said.
Tyler was still holding his forehead.
“Kid, you ready?” Black asked, pouring the sauce in the bottle.
Tyler nodded, lifting himself into a squatting position.
“We’re going to slide you Toben’s gun, then we’ll send your son out,” Black yelled, fastening the top on the bottle.
The bottle immediately began to fizz and bubble. Black crawled to the pavement and rolled the bottle under the SUV, aiming slightly left. As the bottle rolled, Black hurried to his feet and glanced around the back of the Blazer. He saw all four of the men direct their guns at the bottle as it rolled towards them. It came to a halt near the guy directly to Stokes’ left. The four stared at the bottle, stiff. It was as if they were frozen in time for that brief moment. Even the downpour around them seemed to pause. The sight was similar to a still portrait. That short time in space was serene, even hypnotic. And then it wasn’t. Stokes, realizing what was happening, waved his arms in the air and pivoted in the opposite direction. The men on his right and left sides, out of reflex, did the same. The guy on the far right shuffled farther to the right, almost stumbling in his haste.
“Bomb!” Stokes screamed as he sprinted off.
He and his men were able to create some distance before the bottle erupted into an explosive flash of light. Stokes and the two men directly next to him were flung in the air. The sound from the blast rang out, knocking against the Chevy Blazer. Black ducked behind the SUV just in time, then quickly faced those who were back there with him.
“GO!” he yelled.
The manager was the first to race towards the door. Following him was Tyler, and Toben trailed last, pointing his Smith & Wesson in the direction of Stokes’ team. As they did so, Black dashed from behind the vehicle. In his peripheral, he could see Stokes and the two men squirming on the pavement. Directly in front of him was the guy who was furthest to the right—the one who had nearly shot him in the head—standing with his arms raised over his face, a natural reflex to create a barrier between himself and the blast. Dazed and exposed, he didn’t see Black rushing towards him. Black grabbed him in a tackle, blitzing him through PVC fencing and under a canopy before slamming him, back first, into the seat of a bumper car. The man’s rifle fell to the floor and he leaned forward, attempting to rock back to his feet, but the underside of his chin met with Black’s fist. Black delivered a devastating uppercut, snapping the man’s head backward and laying him flat in the bumper car, sound asleep. Wasting no time, Black quickly removed the man’s sidearm, stuffed it in the back of his own pants, and peered in the direction of Stokes and the other two men. All three were lifting themselves from the concrete with heads turned in the direction of the Intergalactic Food Court entrance.
