The Fog of Dreams

by Justin Bell

  ********

  Agent Grace hung his own head low as he stood in his office, facing his desk, with his hands pressed against the wooden surface. With his eyes cast downward so no one could see the vicious scorn that played across his brow, he knew it wasn't their fault. The National Security Agency had purposefully built William Strickland to do exactly what he had done last night, and the events that transpired were more a positive testament to what he was capable of rather than an indictment on Burndock's team.

  But still? thirteen men against one? Burndock, Mathis, and Sandidge all had the tranquilizer darts that had been designed to take him down, but Grace had thought the rubber bullets would do the trick. By all accounts, Strickland had taken six or eight shots before he'd even changed into the creature, and it still had barely fazed him.

  Incredible.

  Agent Grace turned around slowly. Drawing a breath, he could see through his glass doors that the cleanup crew was still working out in the hallway outside his office. He had arrived at 3:00 a.m. after the frantic phone call and started cleanup immediately. While last night's event had been violent, it was more controlled than the last, and more purposeful.

  Again, incredible.

  The line between man and beast had truly begun to blur, just as Dr. Worthy had claimed it might, and the scientist was now seemingly prophetic. Was it really prophecy if he spent all day, every day studying the science and results behind these tests? Was it prophecy if he actually designed the genetic markers to make this subject how he was?

  "So what's our current status? Do we have a retrieval team heading to Strickland's house?" Agent Grace asked the room in general, but it mostly pointed at Burndock.

  "No, sir," Burndock replied. "The attack last night decimated us. Every one of our men was either killed or injured, and those few who weren't needed to help with cleanup."

  Agent Grace nodded. He understood that too. In a perfect world, a strike team would have descended on Strickland's house immediately and brought him back in, but in this particular case, that had been impossible. The NSA's need for stealth had trumped the need for brute force, and in this case, that had cost them dearly.

  "When will we dispatch a team?"

  "Hard to say," replied Burndock. "We've got myself, Sandidge, and two other lucky guys who were just a little banged up. I'd argue that four men weren't enough to bring him in."

  Agent Grace frowned. "Okay, Agent Burndock, this is what we're going to do." Then he stopped speaking. His eyes widened and his voice left him.

  Behind Burndock, the glass door squeaked as it opened.

  "Director McKie?" Agent Grace wondered aloud.

  "Good to see you again, Agent," McKie replied, though his face indicated that it actually wasn't all that good to see him, thank you very much.

  "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Agent Grace moved across the floor and extended his hand, which McKie shook thoroughly.

  "Oh, the usual. A colossal cluster fuck."

  Agent Grace pursed his lips and forced a fake humor smile. "Well, we appreciate any assistance."

  David McKie turned towards the other men in the room and smiled. "Can you excuse us?" The others obeyed, standing and exiting the room post haste.

  "I appreciate the assist, but everything is under control here," said Grace, trying to reassure him.

  "That's bullshit and you know it, Grace. Your little special project here is running wild. We've got blood flowing down the streets and in our own goddamned office building. What the hell happened here last night, son?"

  "It was a judgment call, sir. I set a trap. It blew up. I take full responsibility."

  Director McKie smiled slightly. As angry as he was, he had to admire a 21st century middle manager who didn't hesitate to jump on the grenade. "So what's the fix?"

  "We're pretty sure he's gone home; it's the only place he really knows. Once he wakes up today, he may not even know that."

  "Memory loss as a side effect of this whole thing?"

  "Yes and no. We purposefully designed this latest cocktail so he could be easier to control. Typically, we enhance the effect with an additional dose, but we couldn't do that last night, so his memory issues may not be quite as dramatic today."

  "How sure are you that he won't come back here?"

  "I believe that he will, eventually. His main goal from day one has been to locate his family. He can't remember anything, but he has a very direct connection to them, and everything he does is focused around finding them again." Agent Grace considered his next words carefully. "First we have to determine what current? condition he's in."

  "Condition?"

  "Yes, sir." Grace braced himself. "Previously, the transformation process needed? 'encouragement.' After last night, that doesn't appear to be the case. In spite of the issues with last night's operation, the data provided was immensely valuable."

  "I'm so glad," McKie sneered, a sarcastic tenor in his voice. "So you plan on picking him back up, right?" He strolled to the large window and glared out over the surrounding town.

  "Yes, sir, as soon as we can get some personnel together."

  McKie turned towards him. "You've got it. I have agents arriving in couple of hours. Twelve more men. Field trained, ready to go. As soon as they get here, we can set up the retrieval."

  "Works for me, sir," Agent Grace replied.

  "The Agency is very deeply invested in the success of this project, son. As I'm sure you understand, your future hinges on it. If we can still spin this into something positive, it will mean great things for the agency, for the country, and for us."

  Agent Grace smiled. In his head, the order of priority for "great things" was a little different.

  "All of your reinforcements should be arriving shortly. Let's get our heads together and figure out a way to solve this little issue permanently, okay?" Director McKie had been walking towards the door, but at this comment, he turned slightly and looked at his subordinate. "I trust we've squeezed this particular lemon dry?"

  Agent Grace nodded, understanding the implications. "Yes, it's safe to assume we've gotten all of the empirical data we're likely to get out of this subject. I think we're prepared to close this chapter." Grace wasn't sure he actually was ready to close this chapter, but he said what McKie wanted to hear.

  "Agreed," replied McKie. "Let's hope the chapter has a happy ending."

  With a soft sliding sound, he left the office and the door eased closed behind him. Before he was even out of sight, Agent Grace had walked to the phone on his desk and scooped it up. He punched in a few numbers and waited just a second.

  "Agent Carr?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "I need you and Gonzales on this Strickland problem. We've got backup coming, and leadership wants to close the door. I think we still have some value left here." He listened to the voice on the other end, nodding softly. "Right. How soon can you get there? Good. Do it."

  Grace set the receiver down on the cradle and looked at his watch. Time was suddenly of the essence, and he hoped his two top agents could capitalize before it was too late.