by James Hunt
Dogs barked and men shouted behind her. Sarah whipped her head around at the noise and got to her feet as quickly as she could. “This little box better have something good in it, or I’m going to go postal on Bryce.”
“Just hang in there, Sarah. It won’t be much longer.”
A smile creased up the corner of Sarah’s mouth as she led the hounds on a wild goose chase. “That’s what she said.”
***
The majority of the building had been evacuated, and anyone that Bryce had the misfortune of running into now would be security, and he didn’t think his current answer would provide them with the needed reassurance to leave him alone. The weight of the pistol tucked beneath his uniform had suddenly become incredibly heavy.
Luckily, Bryce navigated the holding cells where Becca and the kids were located without incident, and when he broke down the door, he saw Matt and Ella with their faces pressed against Becca’s leg.
“Bryce?” The confusion spread over Becca’s face matched the surprise in her tone. “Where is Sarah?”
“Oh, you know, just causing a headache for the entire CIA.” Bryce removed a small scanning device the size of a ballpoint pen and started waving it over the children’s bodies. When the scan returned negative, he started waving the wand-like piece of tech over Becca. “Are you guys all right?”
“We’ve been better.” Becca recoiled slightly from the wand, and then her eyes darted to the hallway. “How the hell are we getting out of here?”
The device made a faint beep when Bryce moved it over her shoulder, and he waved it over the same location a few times. The beep strengthened, and he activated the rear end of the device, which spread open like a claw.
“That’s not going inside me, is it?”
“No,” Bryce answered, hovering the opened end of his pen over the spot where the scanner had located the bug planted underneath Becca’s skin. “Were you unconscious during any portion of the time when you were taken?”
Becca jolted when the device touched her skin. “Ah, it’s cold.” She furrowed her brow, shaking her head as the twins pressed their faces harder into her leg. “I-I don’t remember.” She glanced down at her shoulder. “What the hell did they do to me?”
“Tracking device,” Bryce answered, and then with one quick click of the scanner, it flashed a brief spurt of white light that was the charge that disabled it, and he returned the pen to his pocket. “C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Becca glanced down at her shoulder, picking both of her children up as she followed Bryce out the door and into the hallway. Lights flashed red, and Becca kept close to Bryce, who now held the pistol in his right hand. He saw Becca notice the light tremor in his hand and then placed his left palm to steady the weapon.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Becca asked.
Bryce stopped at an intersection in the hallway, glancing left and right, making sure the path was clear, and then nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure.” What did Sarah used to say when they started together? “Just gotta fake it till you make it.”
“This is the least-reassuring rescue I’ve ever experienced,” Becca said.
Bryce picked up the pace, the composite handle of the pistol growing slick from the sweat on his palm as they neared the exit. “Shouldn’t be much longer.” But the moment they turned the last corner, two agents dressed in black suits and ties emerged from a room.
For a split second, the two parties just stared at one another, both seeming to question whether what they were looking at was real, but when one of the agents raised his pistol, Bryce fired and missed. The two CIA operatives immediately returned fire, forcing Bryce, Becca, and the kids into the nearest room for cover.
Bryce slammed the door shut then dumped a filing cabinet over the entrance to keep it blocked, the agents on the other side pounding and clamoring to get inside.
“What the hell are you doing?” Becca asked, still clutching her children, her cheeks beet red.
Bryce looked down at the pistol in his hand, then to the door, then back to Becca. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the field.”
In reality, it was the first time he’d been in the field, but he didn’t think that would quell Becca’s nerves at the moment. He paced the room, trying to think of a way out but realizing that he’d just shoved them between a rock and a hard place.
“Grace, we’re stuck,” Bryce said.
“Working on it,” Grace replied.
Fists continued to pound on the door, and Bryce started to lose his patience. “Get Sarah over here now!” He backed Becca and the kids to the rear left corner of the room, blocking them with his body and aiming the pistol at the door, which buckled, the filing cabinet he’d used to block the entrance rattling with every smack.
***
Sarah ducked behind a cluster of rocks, checking the condition of Black Box under her arm. A few dents, and it had some dirt spread over it, but otherwise fine. Vibrations from the bullets on the other side of the rock brought her back to the moment. With the sheer number of gunshots that had been fired, Sarah was sure she had to be close to some sort of record in dodging bullets. “I’m pretty sure this would give Neo a run from his money.”
“Sarah,” Grace said, “Bryce is in trouble. You need to head to Langley and get them out.”
A bullet splintered a tree trunk just to the left of her head as she continued her sprint through the densely covered forest, the soundtrack of shouts, gunfire, and helicopters still playing loudly around her. “How the hell did that— Actually, that makes sense. It is Bryce we’re talking about here.”
“They’re holed up in a room near the building’s west exit,” Grace said. “From what I’m seeing, the bulk of the security is out looking for you, so if you can turn back now, you should have enough time to get them out before the rest of the agency realizes what you’re doing.”
“Just can’t find good help these days,” Sarah said.
She glanced down at the display on her arm, Grace already uploading the quickest path back to the main building. She hopped on her horse, sprinting toward Langley with what remained of her endurance, pushing through the burning fatigue of her muscles and the lungs that felt as if they had caught fire and burned with every breath.
Branches and brush whipped her face and body on the sprint back, and she heard the slow shift of the small army chasing her adjust to her new course. The dogs barked, and Sarah reached for one of the compartments on her belt, retrieving a small vial of liquid. She tore the cap off and doused herself with the stink of its contents, scrunching her nose. “Holy mother of God, that is potent.”
Hopefully, it was enough to keep the dogs off her trail, and now smelling like a skunk ready for a hot date, Sarah cranked on the afterburners, becoming nothing more than a black blur that darted through the woods.
A cluster of SWAT members resided up to her left, and when Sarah passed, they all pivoted with her, rifles aimed in a sporadic swing, and a volley of gunfire peppered the woods, hitting nothing but trees and leaves.
“When you get out of the woods, there will be a twenty-yard clearing,” Grace said. “That’s where you’ll be most vulnerable, but it’s a straight shot to the hallway where Bryce and Becca are trapped.”
“The things we do for family.” Sarah could see the end of the forest approaching, and when she broke through to where the open field began, that feeling of exposure and dread washed over her, but still she pushed forward.
Gunfire erupted behind her, and Sarah kept her eyes glued to the doors on the side of the building, growing closer and closer in front of her. When she placed one foot on the steps and catapulted herself up the stairs, she felt a harsh bite in her backside. She flung herself through the double doors, skidding across the tile and catching the attention of the two agents still pounding on the door Bryce, Becca, and the kids were surely behind.
Both agents turned, aiming their pistols, but Sarah disarmed them before they could fire, and kno
cked both to the ground with a hard right cross, and a choke hold. She gently held her left butt cheek, spinning around to inspect what had hit her on the way inside. “Got me right in the keister.”
“More agents heading your way, Sarah,” Grace said.
Sarah pounded on the door, shouting above the still-blaring alarms. “Housekeeping!”
Movement on the other side of the door prompted Sarah to take a step back, and when the door swung open and she saw Bryce, Becca, and the kids, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Hey, guys.”
Becca lunged forward, the kids still clutched in her arms, and wrapped Sarah up in a hug. “God, it’s good to see you.”
Bryce tapped both of them on the shoulder, heading for the exit that Sarah had just entered through, where Grace screeched up in the van. “Come on, let’s go!”
The herd took off at a sprint, Sarah taking point and fending off the growing number of CIA agents that were redecorating the back side of the van. She slid the side door open, and Becca and the kids were the first in. Bryce jumped in next, and Sarah brought up the caboose.
Once inside, Sarah slammed the door shut. “Driver, airport please.”
The van peeled out, tires screeching and kicking up a puff of smoke, while the thump of bullets continued to pepper the armored van. Grace took the turns hard, keeping a frantic pace, and while Bryce positioned himself in the passenger seat, Sarah checked on her family. “How you guys holding up?”
Both Ella and Matt were quiet, most likely still in shock, but Becca smiled. “I’ll let you know once we get out of this mess.”
Sarah leaned down and kissed the twins’ foreheads then pressed her forehead against Becca’s. “Don’t worry, it can’t get any worse than this.”
And the moment the words left her mouth, a heavy thump hit the top of the van, leaving a dent in the roof that caught everyone’s attention.
Sarah looked up, her mouth ajar. “That can’t be good.”
Chapter 8
Just to the left of where the dent in the roof appeared, a fist was suddenly thrust through, and Sarah’s eyes widened. “That’s definitely not good.”
The slightly bloodied hand flexed its fingers, and Grace and Bryce whipped their heads around just in time to see the arm retract through the hole.
“Was that a person?” Bryce asked.
“Could be from one of the global intelligence agencies hunting us down,” Grace answered.
Another thump landed on the hood of the van, and a hulking beast covered the entire windshield, his eyes eerily focused on Sarah. He cocked his arm back and punched through the glass, which cracked and fractured, large portions fogged over like frost.
Grace swerved hard left and hard right, the freak on the hood unshaken even with the wicked turns. He cocked his arm back in preparation for another attack, and Sarah reached for her pistol, then aimed at the windshield just as he catapulted himself back on the roof.
Sarah glided the tip of her Colt to follow the footsteps of whatever the hell was on top of them. She held her fire, already aware that her Colts couldn’t penetrate the bulletproof armor of the van. But she was betting the hand attached to that beast wasn’t.
The footsteps suddenly stopped, and Sarah kept the pistol trained on where the noise ended. For a moment, she thought that the creature had vanished, but the back doors of the van swung open, and she quickly shifted her aim to the massive blur that had suddenly flung itself inside.
Sarah fired and sent a bullet into the behemoth’s arm, but it took a moment for her body to recognize the blinding pain that accompanied the punch she’d received to the side of her face. She flattened to the floor, and meaty fingers proceeded to squeeze her throat.
The van shook back and forth, and between the sounds of her own gagging, Sarah heard Becca, Bryce, and Grace screaming at one another while her vision slowly blackened. But not before she locked eyes with the freakishly large WWE wrestler on top of her.
The eyes were human but contained something else, something more calculated. It was almost as if he was only able to see her, and nothing else. Mack had always warned her that tunnel vision in the field was dangerous. You had to be aware of your surroundings, and with the hulk distracted it gave Bryce time to find his gun and shoot.
A red blotch appeared on the assassin’s shoulder, and he loosened his hold on Sarah’s throat. She gasped for breath, sucking in a belly fully of air.
Still bleeding, the behemoth reached for Sarah once more, though this time she was just barely able to evade him. She slammed her left fist into the side of his face, but instead of hearing the crack of his cheekbone, another blinding pain radiated from her fist. The pain was fresh and clear, stealing her breath. But while Sarah was hurt, the goon was unfazed.
Sarah leaned back and coiled her legs then shot both of them forward and smacked them against the goon’s chest, sending him sprawling to the back of the van. The impact was like trying to knock down a wall, but it did the trick. When Sarah reached for her Colt the second time, he jumped out of the van, rolling over the asphalt while his image grew smaller in the distance.
Exhausted, Sarah dropped the pistol and collapsed onto the van floor, which rattled and only worsened her splitting headache.
“Did someone catch the plate number on that bus?” Sarah asked.
Becca suddenly appeared, hovering overhead and gently placing her hands on Sarah’s head and body. “Just lie still. You might have a concussion.”
“Lie still,” Sarah said, closing her eyes and trying to keep the world from rocking beneath her. “No problem, Doc.”
How long the rest of the trip was, Sarah couldn’t be exactly sure, but after a while, she felt more hands on her as she was lifted from the back of the van and carried into a building, where she was placed on something hard.
“I’d like to speak with the hotel manager to get a nicer bed,” Sarah said, holding up a finger, but it lazily fell back to her side.
A light flashed in Sarah’s eyes, and again she saw Becca hovering above along with the muffled sound of her sister-in-law’s voice. “Give me a needle and thread along with antiseptic.” Becca placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and then gently cupped her cheek. “It’s going to be all right.”
It could have been the fact that the splitting pain in her head had yet to subside, or the exhaustion, but for a moment, Sarah could have sworn she was looking up at Ben. But when she reached to touch his face, it veered off target and slowly drifted to her side. “I’m sorry… I missed… the….” And just as Becca started sliding the stitches through the back of her head, Sarah passed out.
***
Copper... that was the first taste Sarah had on her tongue when she awoke. She smacked her mouth a few times, trying to rid herself of the metallic grit, but it lingered. She blinked a few times, examining her surroundings.
The room was small, barely large enough for the twin bed she lay on and the dresser against the wall. A nightstand with a glass of water resided on her right, and she reached for the cup, draining the liquid in a few gulps, which helped with the copper taste.
Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed, her hands patting the quilted cover that she had lain on. She grazed the left side of her head and winced the tender flesh. She then walked her fingers to the back of her skull where a bandaged covered what had to be stitches. Her left hand was also bandaged, and when she tried to curl the fingers into a fist, the middle one wouldn’t close all the way.
A chair was in the corner holding her jacket, boots, and dual holsters, with the Colts still nestled safely inside. Sarah leaned forward, testing her balance by placing some weight on her feet, and slowly stood.
After a few successful seconds of not falling flat on her ass, Sarah stepped toward her holster and slung it over her shoulders. It took a little bit to shake some of the rust off, but by the time she was dressed, she started to feel more like herself, though the pain in both her head and hand refused to cooperate.
The hallway outside the bedroom was narrow, and everything in the house was wood colored. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all coated and polished in a veneered glaze. Voices echoed from down the hall, and when she walked the floorboards groaned from her weight.
“Oh, c’mon, I’m not that heavy,” Sarah said.
A stairwell greeted her at the end of the hallway, and when she poked her head over the banister, she saw Becca lying down on one of the couches in the living room by herself. She opened her eyes, and when she saw Sarah, she pushed herself up.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Becca asked.
“Like someone beat the crap out of me,” Sarah answered, taking her first few steps down. “Where is everyone?”
“The kids are sleeping,” Becca answered then gestured behind her past the kitchen, where another hallway led to the rear of the house. “Grace and Bryce are trying to figure out if there was anything on that device you stole.”
Sarah made her way over to the couch where Becca sat and plopped down. “Damn thing better have been worth it.” She frowned, then gestured to the wounds. “So what’s the analysis, Doctor Hill.”
“You have a fractured third metacarpal in your left hand, bruising on your face, and I had to give you four stitches on the back of your head.” Becca gently grazed the bandage. “You were lucky you didn’t get a concussion when that thing tossed you to the ground.”
“Yeah,” Sarah said, resting her head back on the sofa cushion. “Lucky me.”
“Becca—” Grace appeared from the hallway. “Oh, Sarah, you’re awake.” She walked around the couch and took a seat next to her, grasping the wounded hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone punched me in the face.” Sarah widened her eyes. “Really, really, really hard.” She turned to Grace. “Tell me you found something good.”