by David Reese
SHADOW CORPS
ESCAPE FROM SHADOW
By David Reese
Shadow Corps; Escape from Shadow
Copyright © 2019
by David Reese
Kindle Edition
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Books by David Reese
The Shadow Corps Series:
Escape From Shadow
Call To Darkness
Chapter 1
Commander Paul White broke the surface of the river, clinging to the heavy chain that moored the ship to its anchor. My Lady’s Nest was a massive transport vessel that had just docked in a private port in Boston after its three month journey from an obscure island off the British coast. Paul’s team had received intelligence that the captain of this vessel, one Sean O’Neil, was harboring a shadow-powered individual. It was their mission to secure this individual and arrest Sean for breaking the law.
The Department of Homeland Security could have just raided the vessel with a standard DHS tactical team, but missions involving shadow energy required delicacy, secrecy, and skills that only the Shadow Corps could deliver.
Only a few people in the world knew that shadow energy existed. Once the first cases of people harnessing the power of darkness was reported, the nations of the world in a secret gathering at the Hague three years ago decided to keep that information secret. Imagine the panic it would cause when people found out about the terror of shadow-powered individuals.
But the problem was, ever since the first sighting, people kept popping up all over the place who manifested this same ability to manipulate shadow energy. So every nation agreed to create an agency within their interior ministry whose sole mission was to search out these shadow-powered individuals and remove them from society.
Having witnessed the terrifying damage shadow energy could do to the world as we know it, it was decided by a coalition of hundreds of governments to keep lid on it.
In the United States, Shadow Corps was that agency that responded to shadow threats, and Paul White its lead agent. Shadow Corps was a hundred man strong, military-based organization within the Department of Homeland Security that answered only to the Secretary and the President and no one else.
Paul White’s Alpha Team consisted of ten shadow-powered individuals, who were trained in using their ability to harness shadow energy for combat as well as in tactical assault procedures. Shadow Corps was not just an organization of a bunch of normal human beings. No. Their tactical teams were made up of the same kind of people they were supposed to be capturing – shadow-powered people. It was an iconic case of fighting fire with fire.
This was necessary because some of the people they went up against were downright nasty. Bullets were grossly insufficient in defeating shadow-powered people. You needed to use shadow energy and skillfully too.
“Team leads, come in,” Paul said as he climbed out of the cold water of Boston Harbor and crawled up the chain to the top deck of the vessel.
With only a few minutes to spare before midnight, it was already pitch darkness in the harbor. They had cut the power to this entire section of the city before their approach so that they could take very good advantage of the darkness.
“Thomas, checking in,” came a voice in Paul’s ears. “We are in position and ready to move on your command, boss.”
Thomas Russel was Paul’s second in command. He and a small team of four had snuck into the ship from the south end. They were hidden in one of the vessel’s many compartments, waiting for his command before they began their attack.
“Irene, checking in,” came another voice. “Ready to proceed on your command, Commander.”
Irene Queen and her team of two were at the harbor station. They had a DHS tac-team on standby with them and were ready to invade the ship with the authorities upon his signal. She was the reactionary force, in case things got too intense and they needed to bulldoze their way through.
“Scott in,” said a very tough voice. “Ready to execute.”
Scott Barwick was their spy. He was probably the most skilled shadow-powered person Paul knew. He was also incredibly physically strong with large biceps and a body that made other guys turn green with envy and of course made the ladies swoon.
“Have you located the query?” asked Paul.
“I’ve searched two third of the ship,” replied Scott. “Nothing. But it seems that a portion of the ship on the lowers deck has been sequestered. That might be where they are keeping him.”
“Roger that,” Paul replied. “I’ll meet you in the lowest deck.”
“Boss, there’s something weird about this one,” Scott said, a tinge of worry in his voice.
Paul fell into a crouch and ran the entire length of the ship, sticking to the shadows until he got to a small hatch. Most of the sailors were on the other side of the ship. The ship’s manifest said there were a hundred and twelve people aboard. Since its arrival, only a few people had been spotted coming or going from the ship. It led them to believe that majority of the people were somewhere within the ship.
Probably holding AK47s and waiting to shoot, Paul thought.
“What is it, Scott?” he asked. He knew to listen to Scott anytime the guy was having misgivings. Scott was a very trusted member of the team, and his gut feelings were always right.
On the other hand, Paul and Scott went way back to their time together at Fort Knox and in the Marines.
“I overhead a couple of the sailors talking,” Scott said. “They were speaking a foreign language. They were also armed with M7s.”
Paul froze as he pulled open the hatch, and it was not because of the loud creaks it made. “M- what?” he blurted.
“These aren’t your normal terrorists, sir,” Scott replied. “These are well armed and probably well trained operatives.”
“And they have a powered individual with them?” Paul asked, his mind racing. He was thinking of all the possible reasons why someone would want to bring in trained operatives to the United States.
“Assuming it’s only one,” Scott replied. “Because the room I suppose they have the powered individual kept is large enough to fit two hundred people.”
“Why keep one person in a space where you can fit two hundred people?” Paul asked.
“Something's fishy
,” Scott replied. “We need to pull back and work out our strategy. We might be walking into something bigger than us.”
“Negative,” Paul said immediately. “Stay put. I’m coming to you.”
Then he heard the distinctive click of an automatic rifle behind him.
“Halt!” boomed a thickly baritone voice. “DO NOT MOVE!”
Chapter 2
Paul felt every bone in his body freeze.
“Boss, are you alright?” It was Irene’s voice and though the man behind him could not hear her, she spoke in a whisper. “I can be there in three minutes, tops.”
“I can be there in less than one,” came Thomas’s voice.
“Negative,” Paul muttered.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the voice boomed again, startling Paul because it was closer. “I SAID DO NOT MOVE!”
“I did not move!” Paul complained, slowly raising his hands into the air. “I am unharmed.”
“Then why is an assault rifle hanging from your side?” asked the voice. “SLOWLY!” he warned as Paul began to turn to see adversary.
The first thing he saw was a big ass assault rifle with a high powered scope and a suppressor. He then saw the man’s utility belt, which held several high-end frag grenades, an EMP grenade, and a cluster bomb grenade. Strapped to the man’s right thigh was a holstered 9mm Beretta.
Paul’s mouth fell agape at how armed this sailor was even as his gaze rose to appreciate the man’s stature. He was burly. Really burly. He wore a singlet over his camouflage pants. His muscles were taut, veins bulging against the skin of his flesh and glistening in the harsh flood lights of the vessel. He was a white male.
“WHO ARE YOU?” the man spouted, his face contorted in a gruesome frown. His hands were incredibly steady, his finger on the trigger. Only highly trained operatives could demonstrate such steadiness in situations like this. Paul concluded that this wasn’t some terrorist scum who had managed to get his hands on high-end weaponry. Terrorist scums weren’t this trained. Terrorist scums wouldn’t even consider speaking. They’d shoot first.
“My name is Paul White,” Paul said. He looked behind the man and gasped in feigned shock.
The man turned instinctively, before he realized his mistake. Paul moved so fast to the point that he became but a blur. The man, knowing what was happening, pulled the trigger. The gun jerked back with a loud report, the bullet cutting through Paul. But Paul had misted into shadow form. The bullet only went through him.
Paul passed through the man’s body, causing the man to jerk violently. Coming out from the man’s behind, Paul swirled around, solidifying as he turned to face his adversary. The man had fallen to the ground. He was now thrashing violently and convulsing. From his extremities, he was turning to ice, all the light, all the warmth, all the life being sucked out of him as a result of the pieces of shadow matter Paul had left inside of him.
Paul fell to his knees, totally overwhelmed by what he was seeing. He’d seen it before—this was not his first time of killing a man by what he called Shadow Pass. Still, every time he saw it, it overwhelmed him.
Shadow Pass was one of the worst ways to die. Paul could imagine what the man was feeling. Even as the man gurgled and thrashed and convulsed, he was fully conscious. The pain, the frustration, the terror—Paul shivered…No man should ever have to die like this.
The sound of an alarm brought Paul’s attention back on mission. He shot to his feet and ran for the open hatch.
“Report!” he yelled above the screeching klaxons.
“I’ve been found out!” Scott blared back. “I’m in the aft section of engineering. Had to use my powers. Had to take them out.”
Paul frowned, sliding down the ladder to the lower deck. He landed in a deserted hallway. “What do you mean you had to take them out? How?” Paul was now frowning. He hated unnecessary bloodshed. Heck, he hated any kind of bloodshed.
“I had to kill them all,” Scott replied with a defiance in his voice. “All twenty six of them.”
Paul was immediately stunned by what he’d just heard. Twenty six? He didn’t ask for fear of being branded a sympathizer.
The Shadow Corps organization was as utilitarian as it got. They didn’t tolerate dissenters and had no value for human life, especially when it came to shadow-powered people. Everyone was paranoid, and everyone was a suspect. Everyone was expected to comply. If you didn’t—if you as much as sneezed wrongly—you were branded a sympathizer, which was the worst thing you could ever be.
Sympathizers were usually taken away to a secret facility off the coast of Malta, where no one would ever see them again. The facility was called Purgatory. Paul had heard tales … disturbing tales. It is said that death is far better appreciated when one has been to Purgatory.
Paul shivered. The very thought of Purgatory kept him in line. He didn’t always agree with their methods, but it was either he complied or he was taken to Purgatory. At the beginning it was an easy choice … comply and live your life fully. Now, with each innocent man killed, with each innocent family incinerated, it was getting more difficult to stand by the loathsome organization he was working for.
“Proceed to the lowest deck, Scott,” Paul said through clenched teeth, taking care not to allow his emotion bleed into his voice. He didn’t want to give his team members or the brasses back at HQ, who were no doubt listening in on their communication channel, any reason to suspect that he was a sympathizer.
“All remaining teams you are a go,” Paul said. “I repeat, you are a go. Sweep the vessel. And be advised, there are highly trained, highly armed operatives onboard. Proceed with extreme caution.”
Paul paused for one second. He knew he shouldn’t add the next phrase he was thinking of adding. He knew he should just walk on and mind his business. But the way Scott had indiscriminately destroyed twenty six sailors, many of whom may not know what their captain was up to unsettled Paul. He had to say something. So he did.
“And be mindful of civilians,” Paul breathed into his mic. “Watch your fire.”
There was a charged silence in their channel.
The next reply had an uncertain ring to it. “Roger that, boss.” It was Irene.
Paul ignored her and stole down the hallway, bringing his assault rifle up to lead his way. He turned a corner, where he found three unarmed sailors running towards him. He tightened his hand around the trigger. As soon as they saw him, they cut to the right through a door and were gone.
Paul continued down the corridor until he came to an access way that slanted all the way down to a lower corridor. He marched on in.
“What’s your status, Scott?” Paul asked.
“I’m there, boss,” Scott said.
Paul got to the lower corridor and saw Scott standing in front a small door in the wall. The corridor was dark. The only light they had was the light from their weapons.
“Ready?” Paul asked.
Scott flashed him a weary look. He tapped his right ear, which disabled his comm link.
“You’re going to get yourself killed, Paul,” he growled, flashing a set of angry teeth.
Paul looked away to the door. He didn’t respond.
“If they tell me to hunt you, I will,” Scott continued. “Don’t think I won’t.”
Paul straightened up. He looked at the man and said, “I wouldn’t expect anything less, soldier. Let’s do this.”
Scott stretch his right palm towards the door. Reel upon reel of shadow matter spooled out of his palm, splashing onto the door. The moment the shadow matter touched the door, it seemed to instantly become sentient as it raced around its edges in a bid to totally engulf it. Before long, the entire door had been swallowed by shadow matter, which continued to spread.
Scott balled his right palm. The shadow matter fizzled away. The door and portions of the wall were gone.
In the compartment before them, there were hundreds of little kids looking back at them in terror.
But there weren’t just kids, P
aul realized. They were all shadow powered. It meant that they all had to die.
Chapter 3
It was obvious they were all shadow powered. Paul could feel the energy each of them was giving off. Combined, they were giving off so much energy that it staggered Paul, almost dazed him.
Scott brought out a scanning device from his backpack and scanned the room. The device beeped erratically. Scott glanced at Paul. “It’s off the charts. They are all powered.”
Paul stepped through the doorway. He looked at the lining of the wall. There was a special aluminum material coating the inner surface of the room. It somehow was preventing their powers from reaching beyond the room, which was why they couldn’t detect the presence of powered people from outside.
Paul looked from one scared face to the other. The oldest here couldn’t have been more than seven years. They were all of Middle Eastern descent, though there were some black kids among them. They were dressed in very thick clothing, which made Paul surmise that they had been transported here from a very cold region. It meant that their registered port of exit may not have been an obscure island off the British coast, because that place wasn’t cold this time of the year.
Paul tapped his earpiece, disabling his connection to his people.
Up the deck, he could hear the sound of automatic gunfire. Irene and her team of DHS agents had already boarded the vessel. It would take them about twenty minutes before they cleared the ship and made their way down here. It meant Paul had twenty minutes to save these kids. There was no way in hell he was going to set kids ablaze! That was crossing the goddamn line.
“Who would do this?” Paul muttered to Scott.
Scott didn’t reply. He had thrown a mask over his face. With clinical efficiency he took more readings from the kids and the room using his device. Though his weapon was not trained on anybody, he still had a finger on the trigger as though he expected one of the terrified kids to attack him.