Crucible of Fear

by D. W. Whitlock

“You’re here,” Dark Messiah said.

  There was no inflection, but Dante could tell it was surprised.

  Or maybe it was afraid.

  A high, whining hum washed over them from above as the massive cloud of drones overhead dropped at frightening speed, aligning themselves into a grid fifty feet overhead. The whine of thousands of propellers was deafening.

  “My daughter,” Dante said, shouting over the din.

  “One moment,” Dark Messiah said.

  Dante gazed over at Briana and Kelly. The younger woman stared up with defiance, fingers wrapped tight around the shotgun. Kelly’s eyes darted among the drones overhead, fear creeping into her eyes. Dante sensed movement below and he peered down over the edge. Dark shapes moved down there, streaming around the outer edges of the shaft toward the stairwell at the far corner of the building. The Militiamen. Dante figured they’d be up here in about five minutes.

  The pitch of the drones whined higher as they spread out into a near perfect circle. Skylar’s hijacked mega drone dropped down through the gap. Two men in black hung down from straps, guns at the ready. They had white skulls for faces.

  The drone set down and they each dropped to a knee and covered Dante and the two women with sub machine guns.

  “Drop the weapons,” ordered one of the militiamen.

  Briana and Kelly let their guns drop to the floor.

  The wire mesh stretcher lowered from the bottom of the mega drone, coming to rest on the unfinished concrete. Abigail thrashed inside, her terrified screams soaring above the incessant hum. Kelly took a step and one of the militiamen fired a shot over her head. She halted, rage burning in her eyes.

  Abigail rolled out of the stretcher and began to crawl toward Dante until one of the militiamen grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She fought the large man, punching and kicking. Dante gritted his teeth, fighting back the rage that threatened to break loose inside.

  She was only ten feet away.

  “Stop, Abigail,” Dante said. “Please. Just stop.”

  Abigail ceased struggling and sobbed. Dante’s heart clenched in his chest.

  “Daddy,” she said, her voice faraway under the constant hum from overhead. The noise was unnerving, maddening, and Dante felt his resolve begin to crumble.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought.

  A voice from the mega drone boomed out. “It is time.” The camera on its underside rotated toward Dante.

  He nodded, pulling the Glock from his waistband. He fell to his knees and placed the barrel to his temple.

  “What are you doing?” Kelly said.

  “Too loud,” Dante said.

  The drones overhead rose up several hundred feet and silence descended once again. Heavy booted feet resounded up through the open stairwell. The rest of the militia was almost here.

  Dante stared into the camera lens and swallowed, his throat dry. “My name is Dante Ellis and I’m here to atone for my sins. I’ve been a bad husband and father, treating my wife and daughter like things to be collected and placated, instead of loved and nurtured.” He gazed at Kelly. “I wasn’t there when my friends really needed me, using them for what I needed without considering their needs.”

  Kelly returned his gaze, lips trembling. He glanced at Abigail. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “I love you, baby girl,” Dante said.

  “Daddy! No!” Abigail said, trying to tug free from the iron grip around her arm.

  “That all ends,” Dante said, “Now!”

  Two pops echoed from far off. A millisecond later both gunmen dropped, blood draining from their ruined skulls.

  Abigail screamed.

  Briana scooped up the shotgun and fired at the metal dish on the shack, destroying Dark Messiah’s connection with the outside world in a shower of sparks.

  Disconnected drones began to drop from the sky in waves, plummeting through the air before crashing down. Shouts of surprise from the militiamen erupted as they exited the stairwell. Dante turned and fired several wild shots in their direction as drones rained down around them. Kelly leapt forward and grabbed Abigail’s hand and ran with her to the construction shack. Briana followed, dodging through the hail of falling technology.

  Dante ran toward the tarp covered cabinet in a low crouch. He would send Dark Messiah crashing to its death, or die trying. Reaching out, his fingers almost touched the corner of the tarp. A drone struck his prosthetic hand like a hammer blow. He stumbled, tottering close to the edge, the shaft opening wide like a toothless mouth, threatening to swallow him whole.

  Dante was tugged away from the edge and hustled toward the construction shack through the whine of dropping drones. Briana held the door open, waving Dante and his savior inside. They leapt over the rail and stumbled through the open door, crashing to a stop against the wall.

  Dante lay panting, lifting his head to see who’d saved him. They wore a burka, only the eyes visible. The eyes blinked.

  He’d know that twitch anywhere.

  Colin sprang up, ran back outside then stood, arms spread out from his sides. The few remaining drones fell and crunched to a stop as silence descended again. Several militiamen emerged from the stairwell and aimed their weapons.

  “Stop!” Colin said. A metal cylinder gleamed in his right hand. His thumb was clamped down over the top.

  “Where’s Dante Ellis,” growled one of the men.

  Colin grasped the top of the burka and tugged it off, then raised the metal cylinder up. A wire ran down from the bottom, curled around his thin arm to bricks of dark green plastic, duct taped all around his torso like a vest.

  “This is a dead-man switch in my hand,” Colin called out. His voice was strong and steady. “Anything happens to me, and we go.”

  The militiamen stirred, a nervous ripple sweeping through them. Several near the back of the group peeled off and fled.

  Colin strode over to the tarp covered cabinet. Pinching one corner he yanked the tarp off, flinging it down the shaft. He glared at the camera on the mega drone, his hand patting the top of the cabinet.

  “You’re trapped in here, aren’t you,” he said. He gave the cabinet a push toward the edge.

  “No!” Dark Messiah said, its voice like thunder.

  Colin raised the dead man switch high overhead. “Everyone needs to leave. Now.”

  Inside the shack, Dante held Abigail to him, her arms clutched around his neck. He picked her up and followed Kelly outside, Briana close behind. They walked down the ramp, past the mega drone to where Colin stood. Dante put Abigail down and Kelly took her hand.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Dante said. “Not this way.”

  “I need to finish this,” Colin said. “Just go.”

  Dante hesitated for a moment, then reached out to him.

  “Go!” Colin screamed, spittle flying.

  Dante nodded and ushered the others toward the stairs. The militiamen had already fled, their booted feet thundered up as they ran down the stairwell.

  “I’ll give you two minutes,” Colin called out.

  Dante looked at Colin one last time. His friend returned his gaze, eyes deep set, haunted. He blinked and his face didn’t twitch at all. Dante turned away.

  Abigail stood next to Kelly, holding her hand tight. Briana watched him, waiting. Dante took his daughter’s other hand and they fled down the stairs.

  CHAPTER 102

  Flight

  They raced downward, passing the floor numbers spray painted at each landing in a blur. Abigail broke free and ran ahead, the coppery streaks of her hair guiding the way. Dante glanced up, wondering if…

  A thunderous boom erupted high above, the bright flash painting the surrounding buildings with an orange glow. A tremendous rippling crackle followed as the glass skin of the building shattered, millions of crisscrossing cracks flowing downward like frozen bolts of lightning. The glass held, due to the thin wires embedded throughout.

  Dante skidded to a halt n
ext to where the others had grabbed the railing. He checked to see if everyone was alright nods all around as another sound began to build, a low rumbling crunch as the shattered glass on all sides began to peel off in great strips that rolled down the sides, gaining speed as the increasing weight dragged them downward.

  “Run!” Dante said.

  Dante followed the others as they dashed down the stairs, the sound of cracking glass drowning out everything else as they ran, air burning in his lungs as they cut across the main floor. The deafening screech of rending metal joined the cacophony as the entire building began to buckle. Dante dug deep and ran ahead, shouldering the door and holding it open with his body.

  “Keep going! Don’t look up and don’t stop!”

  Abigail sailed past him out into the night as fine, crystalline shards rained down from above like razor sharp shards of rain. Kelly came next, then Briana, the shotgun still clutched in one hand.

  Dante fled after them, the deadly shadow on the ground deepening as the interconnected sheets of glass continued to slough down from above in great, shuddering curls. He saw the others hit the gate and flip over to the other side, leaving him alone as he ran the last twenty feet.

  He glanced over his shoulder as the Ellis Media Building collapsed behind him with shrieks of rending metal and shattering glass, imploding in on itself, sending out a glittering cloud of gray dust as the ground rumbled beneath his feet.

  Grabbing the top of the gate, he leapt up and flipped over, the prosthetic hand wrenching free as he dropped to the asphalt. The hand spun through the air and hit the ground with a clack nearby, the fingers jittering. He stumbled to his feet, leaving the hand behind as the cloud surged into the gate and swept over, engulfing him in an impenetrable veil of gray.

  CHAPTER 103

  We Got You

  Dante squeezed his eyes shut, stumbling blindly down the street, continuing to run in what he hoped was away from danger. His whole body felt sluggish, his steps thudding dull and unsteady through his ringing ears. Strong arms found his, slipping around his shoulders before dragging him along.

  “We got you,” a muffled voice said.

  The dust thinned and Dante saw light bloom behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes a crack, squinting. Firemen were on either side of him, their faces hidden behind shiny masks, air hissing as they breathed. One had a flashlight in his hand, the beam winking on swirling specks of glass as they passed through.

  Up ahead, a large firetruck was parked diagonally across the street. The spinning lights on top speared out into the dusty air with rapid sweeps of crimson, forming a crown of sorts. Several more firetrucks and police cars were speeding down the street toward them, the whine of their sirens dull in his ears.

  Abigail and Kelly sat on the ground with their heads tilted back. Their faces and eyes were being washed out by paramedics. They saw him, tried to rise but were held back and ushered into an ambulance.

  Movement caught his eye up ahead and he saw Briana dart out into the street from behind a parked car, face turned skyward, dust trailing behind as she ran. She stopped in the middle of the street and waited as a shadow deepened over her.

  The firemen on either side of him slowed.

  “What the hell?” one said.

  A mega drone descended, the chop of its blades drawing dust upward into four distinct columns before prop wash caused the plumes to curve downward and dissipate. Skylar hung from one of the straps underneath, waving Briana over. She flung the shotgun to the street then stepped into the loop of the other strap, holding on tight. Her eyes found Dante’s, sad but determined. They gazed at each other for a moment before the drone lifted off into a starless sky.

  The firemen handed Dante off to paramedics at the back of the ambulance, bathed in the golden light that spilled out. Abigail and Kelly sat inside, shock and relief in their eyes. Their faces were sooty and streaked, bodies covered head to toe in a chalky gray. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

  Dante climbed in and crushed both of them to his body, holding on with what little strength he had left. They all held each other as the doors slammed shut and the ambulance drove off into the night.

  CHAPTER 104

  Lucky

  Dante and Kelly watched from a bench as Abigail ran across the playground, sand flying from her feet. She went past the swings to a rope ladder leading into the back of a giant robot. Its body was a cage of black pipes, the head a red cylinder with big blue eyes and a triangle nose. One of the extended arms, a red tube, wobbled a bit as she emerged from the end and ran back around, repeating the cycle.

  It was a Tuesday morning, so they almost had the place to themselves. There was an older man with mirrored shades, leaning against a tree nearby, feeding the pigeons. His clothes were a bit too clean, his hair too neatly kept. He was acting inconspicuous, which made his deception all the more obvious. A woman sat on a bench on the other side of the playground, an open magazine on her lap, dark glasses over her eyes as well. The magazine might as well be upside down for how much attention she paid it. The implied threat didn’t sit well with Dante, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  A deal was a deal.

  Abigail trotted over. “Can you hold this? I don’t want to lose it.”

  “Sure,” Dante said stretching out with his right arm. She placed an object into his new prosthetic hand, and he closed the fingers around it. Alexis Arellano had been upset but understanding when he said he’d lost the other one. Her eyes had gleamed as she unveiled the latest prototype and slipped it onto his arm. This one looked much more like a real hand and had touch sensors embedded all throughout the false skin.

  He opened the fingers and looked down. The elephant pendant lay there, glinting in the morning sun. The baby’s trunk was inserted neatly into the tail of its mother’s, a family again. Kelly slipped a hand into his, covering the pendant with her palm before raising her left hand, fingers splayed. A large, single diamond gleamed on her finger.

  “You did the right thing,” Kelly said. “But if you’d taken any longer…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was going to ask you.”

  “I believe it. Somebody once said I should find a nice girl, settle down,” Dante said. “Know anyone like that?”

  She smacked him playfully and frowned. “Are you sure about this, Dante? About me? Are you really ready to say I do again?”

  His phone rang.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, raising the phone to his ear. “Hey, Naomi.” He listened for a moment. “Whatever you decide, I’ll back your play. And, Naomi? Thanks for coming back. Got to go.”

  Dante disconnected and stood, glancing around. “Where’s Abigail?”

  She emerged from the robot slide and knelt, poking at something in the sand before running off again. Dante sat down again with a sigh.

  “It’s okay,” Kelly said. “She’s okay.”

  Dante nodded and squeezed her hand again, a thin smile on his lips.

  “Nice day we’re having.” A man wearing a dark suit approached from behind and stood nearby. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes below a sheen of slicked back hair. He slipped the sunglasses off and smiled. “Little cooler than I prefer, but nice.”

  “Hello, Special Agent Waldman,” Kelly said.

  Dante spied Abigail inside the robot’s body. The black bars of its ribcage were not unlike a jail cell. “Not a good time,” he said.

  “I’ll be quick, I promise,” Waldman said, coming around the bench to stand in front of them. “We found Special Agent Boucher.”

  Neither of them said anything, so he continued. “Quite a story. She promised to lead us to Dmitry Molchalin’s body as part of her plea deal. Says she shot him but couldn’t really say why. Devil made her to do it, I suppose. The body was very deteriorated after what she did to it. Acid bath. Don’t know where the hell she learned that. We don’t teach that at Quantico. Makes it very difficult to determine the exact cause of death. She follow
ed her blackmail instructions to the letter though, so nothing happened to her daughter.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Dante said, waiting to hear the true purpose of Waldman’s visit.

  “Skylar Westfall,” Waldman said. “That is quite another issue entirely. We have been unable to locate Briana Warren as well. Her family is worried sick.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” Dante said. He hoped she was happy.

  “We went to the location you told us about as well, 712 Figueroa.”

  “Nice place?” Dante said.

  “Empty place,” Waldman said. “Wiped clean. We were hoping to find proof of Skylar’s connection to Dark Messiah, which has been causing some folks problems, as you know only too well. We did a very thorough search but came up with nothing. Not a hair or an eyelash, no DNA of any kind. The dogs hit on a room—I imagine it’s the stockpile you told us about, but it was completely bare.”

  “I told you before. I have no idea where he went or what he’s planning to do. He’s didn’t have anything to do with Dark Messiah. From what I understand, it was your friends at the CIA.”

  “And your childhood friend Colin,” Waldman said.

  Dante’s jaw clenched before he spoke. “When I met Skylar, I didn’t know he was this digital freedom fighter or whatever you called him. What I do know, is he helped me find Abigail when no one else would.”

  “Loyalty is a good thing,” Waldman said. “It can cloud your judgment as well.”

  Dante remained silent.

  Waldman grunted. “There was one thing, kind of odd.”

  “The rat-trap room?” Dante said.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “Guy doesn’t like rats, I guess.”

  “Guess not.”

  “One more question,” Waldman said. “Ever hear of Fer de lance?”

  “Isn’t that a snake or something?” Dante said. “Snakes don’t like rats either.”

  “I see,” Waldman said.

  “I appreciate you have a job to do,” Dante glanced at Kelly and squeezed her hand. “Really, I do.”