by James Hunt
Finally, daylight appeared through the slits of a small grille. Beyond the light, she heard the commotion of the insanity waiting for her on the other side. “How many do I have waiting for me?”
“None yet, but they’re en route,” Bryce answered. “Once you get out, make a beeline to your left. You should be able to hijack one of the Humvees. When you do, head to the coordinates posted on your display. You’ll have to ditch any tails, so you better move your ass faster than you’ve ever moved it before.”
Three quick strikes against the grate and it buckled. Sarah spilled out, the concrete hot against the bare flesh of her palms. She scrambled to her feet and tucked the hat low over her head, jogging at a leisurely pace over to the cluster of trucks Bryce said would be close. The wail of sirens pierced the air all around the base. She reached under the jacket she had stolen from the soldier and removed the lock pick on her tool belt.
Sarah hotwired the engine, and it roared as she floored the accelerator. She checked the rearview mirror just in time to watch the caravan of trucks and soldiers turn the corner in hot pursuit, immediately opening fire and sending bullets ricocheting off the thick armor of the truck and bulletproof windows. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, veering toward the fence. Just before impact into the chain-link mesh, she stiffened her arms. The Humvee flattened it without even breaking stride.
Tires kicked up dust, and bullets continued to rain like hail. The off-road terrain bounced Sarah in her seat like one of the balls in a lottery machine. “I need a map of the area!” A barrage of bullets shattered the glass of the driver’s-side mirror, then completely tore it off the door.
“It’s on your display,” Bryce said. “I think the forest to the south is your best bet.”
Sarah yanked her sleeve up, exposing the newly minted map on her skin. It only took her three seconds to examine the area, and with the caravan of soldiers chasing her, she knew there was only one good option. “Forest is too far. I’m gonna hit the river.” Another burst of gunfire. The back left side of the Humvee collapsed, the tire shredded.
Bryce paused. “Sarah, the ravine is too steep.”
The vibrations from the blown wheel slowed her speed and made it more difficult for Sarah to keep control of the Humvee. “Don’t really have a lot of options at this point, Bryce.” It was less than three miles from the ridge. She squinted back at the caravan of India’s finest closing the gap and thought that she’d be okay as long as they didn’t call any air support.
“It’s a four-hundred-foot drop!” Bryce said.
“There’s water at the bottom,” Sarah replied calmly. A flicker of metal caught her peripheral vision, and when she turned her head left, she saw one of the trucks approaching, and fast. She reached down to her belt and removed one of the explosive disks, chucking it out the window. A geyser of dirt and sand erupted directly in the truck’s path, and it veered a sharp right, flipping to its side and skidding to a stop. But she didn’t have enough explosives for all of them.
“Sarah, it’s insanity,” Bryce said. “Head for the forest. There is enough brush and cover for you to sneak away. You don’t have to do this.”
The ridge grew closer, and Sarah kept her foot glued to the accelerator, reaching for the seat belt and clicking it into place. “Eight thousand nine hundred and sixty-three.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Bryce asked.
“That’s the number of times you’ve told me what I wanted to do won’t work. Would you like to know the number of times you’ve been right?”
“Sarah, you don’t—”
“Zero!” The other cars in the rearview mirror slowed, all of them aware of the approaching cliff that would catapult them over the side if they pressed on. “I know you’re a numbers guy, so I thought you would appreciate that statistic.” Bullets thumped into the back of the Humvee, the Indian military shooting from a greater distance behind her now.
“Want to know another number?” Bryce asked.
Sarah could see over the edge of the ravine now, which was only a few hundred yards away and closing. “What’s that?”
“The statistical chance of you surviving that jump is five thousand two hundred ninety-six to one.”
Sarah twisted the leather of the steering wheel as another bullet shredded the second back tire, dropping her speed by fifteen miles per hour, a sand storm of dust blocking the view in the rearview mirror. “You just always have to get in the last word, don’t you?”
“No, that would be your signature move.”
The Humvee suddenly started to tip forward and downward. The seat belt pressed hard against Sarah’s chest. The river below came into view, and the engine revved. In that moment, the slightest bit of doubt crept into the back of Sarah’s mind. And then when the Humvee flipped forward, with the roof heading straight for the impact and herself suspended in mid-air on the way down, another thought crept into her mind. “Bryce, if I die, don’t let Mack look in my locker.”
“What? Why?”
“There may or may not be an unflattering drawing of him that involves a diaper and pacifier.”
“Why do you do these things?”
Sarah’s stomach flipped, and she felt her lunch start to crawl from the pit of her stomach, the inertia of gravity flattening her body to the chair. “I think it’s because I crave attentioooooooooooon!”
Sarah gritted her teeth, and the force of the impact from the splash sent a rush of heavy weight through her head. Immediately afterward, water rushed in through the vents of the vehicle, and Sarah reached for the buckle on her seat belt to free herself. She took one last breath, shoved the door open, and swam, clawing her way to the top until she reached the surface. “Make that eight thousand nine hundred and sixty-four.”
“You’re an ass,” Bryce said, though there was laughter in his voice.
“The finest piece of ass the GSF has ever seen!”
11
Grimes paced the small patch of space in front of his monitors. The graphed bars located on the bottom left monitor were now red, and all of them were below twenty percent. He drifted his eyes back to the screens that showed Black Box’s control of the world’s nukes, watching them the way a hawk examined a piece of prey on the ground. “C’mon.” He barely moved his lips when he spoke. He’d locked his jaw in place, and it hadn’t moved for the past hour or so, his teeth gnashed together in a slow grind as he waited for his moment. “C’mon!” He slapped the back of his chair, gripping it with both hands until his knuckles turned white. The red circles on the screens that represented the nuclear arsenal were still pulsating red, still under his command. And if he wanted his plan to work, then he needed that to change.
Grimes pushed off the chair, sending it rolling into the edge of the desk, smelling the stink of the few days he’d gone without showering as he raised his arms and ran his fingers through the short crop of his hair. He reached for one of the water bottles in the dwindling cases and ripped the cap off, wetting his chapped lips and dry tongue.
Halfway through his chug, a soft beep triggered his attention back to the monitors. He froze for a minute, squinting at the screen to see if there was any noticeable change, and that was when he noticed one of the red dots along the interior of China had turned green. Then another, and another, each color accompanied with a beep that relinquished Black Box’s control over those weapon systems.
Grimes rushed to his chair, his eyes wide, studying the screens. And then slowly, as all of the nuclear installations were taken over, a smile curved onto his face. He slapped both palms flat on the desk. Laughter laced with a mix of self-loathing, and he went to work on the keyboard, hijacking the link at one of the installations where an agent had installed Bryce’s little software program to block him out, then uploaded his own data through Black Box in a reverse osmosis to their precious satellite. The combination of the code, and the satellite’s weakened state allowed him access to their most basic servers. But that small piece of GSF real es
tate was all he needed to plant the seed that he meant to harvest into the GSF’s destruction.
The chair squeaked when Grimes leaned back, a smile of shock still on his face. Now it was only a matter of hours before it all ended. He knew the GSF would be able to lock on to his location now, and he knew who they would send to come and get him. It was a fight that he had been awaiting for the past two years.
Grimes thought back to Agent Hill’s old files in those boxes in the corner. The high marks in combat, marksmanship, and handling of weaponry. He’d seen her in action before. It was like watching a ghost in real life. But Grimes knew Hill was no ghost. She was flesh and blood. She could bleed. She could be hurt. And she could die.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the support agents on the GSF floor when Sarah surfaced from the river. Bryce hadn’t realized it, but nearly everyone was watching the event unfold on their feed. A slow clap broke out, and Bryce spun around in his chair, taking a bow and waving his hands like he’d just won the Academy Award for Best Picture at the Oscars, insisting that it was a team effort, though fully understanding that it was him who had pulled the film through all of the muck that no one wanted to deal with. He imagined Sarah would have something to say about that though.
“You two sure like to cut it close,” Johnny said, hands folded on his lap, slouching low in his chair and looking as though he had no neck to hold up that massive cranium of his. Then he pointed to the screen, where a notification for Mack’s phone had appeared. “Good luck trying to calm him down now.”
Aside from the few bumps along the way, the mission still was technically a success, and Bryce didn’t think Mack could be that upset. Still, Bryce couldn’t help but feel his muscles tense right before he pressed Answer. “Hey, boss.”
“Is she on her way to the rendezvous point?” Mack asked, forgoing any immediate praises or scolding and slicing right to the point.
“Yes, sir.”
There was an audible sigh. As much as the big boss tried to pretend he didn’t care, the sigh told a different story, though he’d never admit it. “Pakistan is pulling back from the border, and Indian forces are following suit.”
“Yeah, it looks like everything is winding down,” Bryce said.
“Find him, Bryce.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
The call ended while the clock on his program’s time limit started. According to his calculations, he had twelve hours to locate Grimes before the program he created shut down and Grimes resumed control of the world’s nuclear arsenal.
Bryce cracked his fingers and placed them on the keyboard, where his right index finger spasmed uncontrollably, a sign of the double shifts over the past week. He squeezed his hand into a fist, took in a breath, and closed his eyes. He just needed to push a little bit further.
When he opened his eyes a hand holding a mug appeared. “I thought you could use something to freshen your mind.” Grace smiled as Bryce reached for the warm cup of liquid. “It’s tea. Lavender. It should help counteract those coffee jitters.”
“What would I do without you?” Bryce asked, leaning over and kissing her hand.
“You’d still be single and spending your free time collecting those dolls.” Grace arched an eyebrow and walked away.
“Those happen to be collectible action figures, and they are going to be very valuable one day!” Bryce watched her wave a dismissive hand in the air, and he took a sip of tea. He set the mug down, and his hands went to work. He accessed the data the satellite was collecting from Black Box’s signal output. He could use that data to coordinate and lock down Grimes’s location, hopefully within one hundred square feet. The data that was being collected was a cluster, more tedious than difficult.
A notification of Sarah’s arrival at the rendezvous appeared in the bottom corner of the far left screen, and Bryce swiped it away, focusing all of his mental energy into finding Grimes. He was just glad Sarah had taken a break from squawking in his ear so he could concentrate.
The moment Sarah was out of the river and onto the chopper that got her the hell out of India, she plucked the communication device from her ear to avoid whatever tongue-lashing either Bryce or Mack would give her about the Evel Knievel stunt into the river.
The ride back to the States took nearly eight hours, but she slept most of the trip, albeit it wasn’t the most restful sleep. The pilot who was guiding the plane seemed to have a bad case of the shakes, because every fifteen minutes, the cargo plane sneaking her back Stateside rumbled like they’d hit something. The only good part about the trip was that she got to spend the time alone. Well, alone from other people. Cows, chickens, and horses chewed on feed in their cages, emitting a smell that was almost worse than that of the river water she’d pulled herself from. Almost.
When Sarah arrived back in New York, she plugged her communication device back into her ear, but only because Bryce had uploaded two dozen messages to the display on her arm demanding that she do so. She obliged only because she was already in the building and was currently sneaking up behind him, about which he had no idea.
“About time you finally picked up,” Bryce said, typing away on his keyboard. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to do this any—”
“BOO!” Sarah jumped to the side of Bryce’s chair and watched him shoot three feet into the air then land hard on his backside. Sarah clutched her stomach from laughing and nearly fell over herself.
“Very funny,” Bryce said, pushing himself off the ground. Grimacing, he waved his hand in front of his nose as he backed away from Sarah’s location. “Jesus, is that you?”
Sarah wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling to herself. “Well, the river wasn’t exactly up to EPA’s standards.” She examined the clothes still on her body. “I’m pretty sure I swallowed a diaper on my way to the shore.” She looked up. “And I might need a tetanus shot.”
“For the love of God, go and take a shower.” His voice sounded nasal as he pinched his nostrils together and took a few steps backward. “You haven’t smelled this bad since that mission in Bangkok.”
“Those Asians sure know how to party.” Sarah looked to Bryce’s monitors, noticing the hundreds of fields of data and lines of code plastered on the screens. “You find him yet?”
Releasing his nose and exposing himself to Sarah’s stench once more, Bryce found his seat, breathing through his mouth. “Not yet, but I’m close. He’s definitely Stateside. The problem I’m facing is the dispersion of the data points. He must have known that this was coming. It’s actually quite impressive. You see, when a piece of data is sent through the airwaves—”
“Fine!” Sarah flapped her arms at her sides. “I’ll go take a shower. No need to go full nerd mode.” She turned and thought she saw the slightest smile curve onto Bryce’s mouth. But despite the trick to get her to leave, Sarah was glad she did.
The hot water and soap cleansed her not just of the smell of the farm animals and river but also of the fatigue that had plagued her from the lackluster performance of her REM cycles. She stepped out of the shower, thick strands of her jet-black hair glued to her muscular back, and made her way to her locker.
Once changed, she rejoined Bryce out on the floor, his eyes glued to the screen and tiny red veins crawling over their whites. “How long have you been working on this?”
Bryce barely moved his mouth and refused to look away from the screen. “Since you left the base.”
“You need a break,” Sarah said.
“I need to finish this.” Bryce pointed to the timer on his desk. “Before that clock runs out.”
Grace appeared, placing water, a sandwich, and a cup of coffee on the table, accompanied with a heavy dose of girlfriend scolding on her face. “You need to take a break,” Grace said.
“No time.” Like his communication with Sarah, Bryce kept his eyes glued to the screen, but Grace grabbed him by the chin.
“You will drink this water. You
will eat this sandwich. And you will take five minutes to rest your eyes.” The tone was meant to be helpful, but the glare looked as if it would set Bryce on fire if he didn’t comply. And much to Sarah’s chagrin, he did.
“Johnny, can you watch the sequencing for me for a minute?” Bryce rubbed his eyes, swiveling out of his chair. “Just grab me if something pops up.”
“Will do.” Johnny took a seat in Bryce’s chair, and when Bryce walked past Sarah, she gave him a light pat on the shoulder.
“You played a hell of a game. But you’re done, son.” Sarah followed it up with a light pat on the ass that Bryce both winced and yelped from. She sat on the edge of the desk while Johnny filled in, and crossed her arms. “You ready for the big leagues, Johnny?”
“Um, I think so?”
“That’s it, get this guy out of here!” Sarah pointed her thumb over her shoulder just as the screen in the top right started to blink.
“Move.” Bryce shoved Johnny from his chair and enhanced the images flashing their alarm. “I’ve got a hit in Virginia.” His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, and his butt lifted from the chair as he leaned forward, inching closer to the screen, drawn to it like a moth to flame. “He’s in the western portion of the state.” The satellite imagery continued to enhance with every strike of Bryce’s fingers, and it wasn’t but a minute longer before he had him within one square mile. “Got you.”
Sarah clapped Bryce on the back, and the two immediately phoned Mack. Their superior didn’t share the same jubilant smile, but Sarah noticed a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes lit up at the news. “Good work. Hill, you’ll be leading in an extraction team with some of Mallory’s men. Priority one is to retrieve Grimes and ensure he doesn’t restart Black Box.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “So if I’m leading the team, that means I’m in charge?”
What faint glimmer of happiness Mack had shown earlier disappeared. “You will have field command, but you will still answer to me.”
