by Ethan Cross
Moving as slowly as possible, she stepped away from Black. She tried to keep her breathing under control, but she knew all too well what would happen if Black saw her. The photos of the crime scene in John Corrigan’s house flashed before her eyes. Would that be her fate? Torn apart, beaten to death by a madman.
Her heart rate spiked with every step backward, but every movement also brought her closer to safety.
Almost there, just a couple more feet.
Munroe had already opened the door and climbed into the cab. She resisted the urge to rush the last step.
Jonas Black’s head abruptly jerked in her direction. She froze. Every muscle in her body trembled. As she looked in his eyes, she knew that Jonas—the man she had grown to care about—was gone and something else had replaced him, some primitive evil that dwelled in the souls of all men had sprung to the surface and seized control.
He sprang forward. She screamed and hopped up into the driver’s seat of the jeep. Her hands fumbled over the steering column, but the keys weren’t in the ignition. Changing tactics, she slammed down the lock, sealing out the thing that Jonas Black had become.
But the big man was on his feet and charging. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door panel. The whole vehicle shook from the impact. He clawed at the handle and then slammed his shoulder into the door again. Except that this time, the window took the brunt of the attack and shattered inward under the big man’s weight.
She screamed and reached across Munroe to open the passenger side door. Black pushed his body up and into the window. His fingernails dug into her back as he clawed at her like a wild beast. She pushed Munroe out the door and then fell on top of him.
Quickly regaining her feet, she dragged Munroe up from the dirt and pulled him toward the surrounding trees.
She looked back to see Black pulling his entire large frame through the window of the jeep, scratching and clawing his way after them.
Within a few seconds, they entered the forest, but the sound of Black tearing apart the jeep urged her forward. They had to keep going. They had to get as far away as possible and then hide. They couldn’t fight the massive former Recon Marine, especially in this crazed subhuman state.
Munroe stumbled over the uneven terrain, but she kept him on his feet as she pulled him deeper beneath the dark canopy. The moon was hiding that night, and dark clouds blotted out the stars, providing almost no light.
The deeper they traveled into the trees, the darker it became. The thick canopy choked out the light and left Katherine barely able to see a foot in front of her face. She pulled Munroe to the side and said, “We need to find a place to hide.”
Behind them, the sound of large feet tearing through the brush echoed over the rises and falls of the forest floor.
Jonas Black was coming for them.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Katherine pulled him over fallen trees, up rises, down hills, deeper into the wilderness of the refuge. Then Munroe stumbled and toppled forward, taking Katherine down to the moist ground with him. “Enough,” he said finally. “We can’t outrun him.”
“What else can we do? We need to keep moving or find a place to hide.”
Munroe quickly analyzed their situation. Black obviously had strength and ferocity on his side, but the big man had also lost all capacity for rational thought. They could hide, but Black was right on their tails. More than likely, he’d pass right by them, but what if he didn’t? If he found them, they would be defenseless. As in any battle, they needed to exploit their opponent’s weaknesses and utilize their strengths. So what advantage did they have over their enemy?
“How dark is it?” Munroe asked.
“Like coal. I can barely see shadowy outlines of the trees. But we don’t have time—”
“Perfect. I want you to leave me. Run ahead a bit and find a place to hide. Make some noise and draw him to you. I’ll ambush him.”
“Are you out of your head? He’ll tear you apart!”
“Not in the darkness. Our large friend is essentially just as blind as I am. Except that I’m used to it, which gives me the advantage.”
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
Annabelle stepped down the steps from the dining terrace of the Hill Crest Golf Course and Resort, the only golf course between I-95 and I-395, and moved back toward the GTO. The sound of music and laughter traveled around the veranda from the facility’s ballroom. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the searing aromas of prime rib. Expensive automobiles filled the parking lot, and the resort’s condos and suites were nearly at capacity.
She dropped into the driver’s seat of Joey’s car, feeling dejected and overwhelmed. “Anything?” Corrigan said from the passenger seat.
“No. I pushed them, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Plus, even if the cartel was involved in this place, they wouldn’t bury the kids here. There’s too much activity. Too many people. There are probably judges and lawyers and cops in there drinking and partying right now.”
“Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open. It’s the last place you look. Maybe Munroe’s contacts at the DEA would know something about this place?”
Her voice cracked as she said, “Maybe.” She white-knuckled the steering wheel, and the tears she had been fighting back for hours broke free and rained down her cheeks. She loved Makayla and Chloe like they were her own flesh and blood, and Deacon would never recover if they didn’t find the girls. Their loss would be more than he could handle. It would end him. The people she loved most in the world were counting on her, and she had failed them.
“I’m sorry,” Corrigan said. “This is all my fault.”
She wiped away the tears. “You’re as much a victim in this as anyone.”
“If I had been a better father, none of this would have happened. My family would be alive, and Black’s nephew and Munroe’s daughters would be home safe right now. You know, I was ready for my execution. I was ready to see my family again.”
Annabelle didn’t know what to say. How could she comfort a man who had held the bloody bodies of his children, knowing that they died by his hand?
She pulled out her phone and texted Joey the results of her inquiries at the golf course. She asked him to let Deacon know. He would be expecting a call from her, but she couldn’t stand to hear the pain in his voice.
Without another word to Corrigan, she shifted the GTO into gear and pulled from the parking lot.
~~*~~
Ramon Castillo watched the security feed as the black muscle car rolled away from the resort. It didn’t seem that the agent suspected anything, but that could have been a ruse. And the fact that she had come so close was extremely troubling. He wondered what else they knew. Did the government know what was coming?
One of his men shifted anxiously from one leg to the other as he stood in the corner of the room awaiting orders. Castillo calculated the risks and weighed the options as he would any other business decision.
“Bring my car around to the back. I’m going into the city.”
“What about those two?”
“Go after them. Find out what they know, and then kill them.”
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
Wielding a fallen log as a weapon, Deacon Munroe crouched low behind a tree and waited. He wished that he would have brought his folding white cane, but he had left it back in the vehicle. When in its folded state, it could be used as quite a nasty little club.
The sounds of the forest surrounded him, the chirping and croaking and humming of a hundred thousand small creatures. Being in the woods reminded him of playing hide and seek with Gerald among the trees and dilapidated outbuildings of the family plantation. Gerald had mastered the art of hiding. He was fearless. Once, Munroe had searched for hours and finally given up, declaring Gerald the winner. He had heard Gerald laugh
from somewhere up above and looked into the rafters of the old barn. Gerald had climbed up into the braces and hung there like a monkey, laughing his head off.
Many of the noises ceased as Black came closer. The big man’s pace had slowed from exertion, but he still sounded like a rhino tearing through the brush.
Munroe heard another sound through the trees, maybe fifty feet away. A rhythmic banging. Katherine making noise as he had instructed.
Experience had taught him to gauge distance accurately from sound, and the crunching of dried leaves betrayed Black’s exact location.
He stepped out from behind the tree, took a deep breath, and swung the log at Black’s head. The heavy club sliced through the air and struck something hard.
Too hard. It didn’t give like flesh. He must have accidentally struck a tree. The impact sent pulses of pain through Munroe’s forearms. The log snapped and dropped from his grasp.
And then Black was on top of him, screaming. Black pounded him with the ferocity of a gorilla, not with precise punches but with wild flailing movements. He felt himself float upward as Black hefted him over his head and tossed him through the air.
He landed on the moist ground and rolled down a hill. He heard Black raging after him. Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled through the darkness. His instinct was to run but knew that would lead to his death. Instead, he found another tree and slipped behind it.
Black stumbled and rolled down the hill after him like a wild beast. But then, unable to locate his prey, the big man’s hysteria peaked, and he attacked everything around him.
If Black wasn’t stopped soon, he would either kill one of them or cause terrible injuries to himself. Munroe knew that Black had to be subdued, and it was up to him to accomplish the task.
Heart pounding, he waited for the right moment. He gauged the big man’s location from the heavy breathing and sound of pounding combat boots. Black moved past him, and he jumped out from his hiding spot and leaped onto his opponent’s back. He snaked his arms around Black’s throat in a chokehold.
His feet left the ground as the big man thrashed wildly through the trees.
Munroe held firm, squeezing tightly around the other man’s muscular neck as he was thrown back and forth like a rag doll. Finally, he wrapped his legs around Black’s enormous frame and locked his ankles together.
Black ran in circles and slammed his back into the trees, trying to shake his attacker. The pain shot down Munroe’s spine with each impact as branches sliced his skin. But Munroe refused to let go, and after a moment, Jonas Black finally relented. Defeated, the big man fell to his knees and slipped into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
Annabelle barely paid attention to the dark and lonely roadway as it stretched out before her. Her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake a memory of the girls when they were young. Chloe dressed up like a princess and giggling with delight. Makayla scowling in disapproval. Deacon sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a miniature pink table with a multitude of brightly colored barrettes filling his short hair.
A large Dodge Ram truck sped past the GTO, and as it merged back into the right lane, its headlights illuminated a blue sign that read, Hill Crest Landfill - Construction/Demolition Debris Only.
Her eyes immediately shot to the right. Another vehicle came up quickly behind her, and its beams cast a pale glow out over the massive open area filled with mounds of dirt, construction equipment, and huge concrete cylinders. Everything clicked into place. The girls were out there somewhere beneath that ground. She could feel it in her bones.
Her fingers scrambled to pull out her cell phone and call Deacon to let him know of her discovery. She glanced down to dial, and Corrigan screamed, “Look out.”
Annabelle looked up to see the red glow of tail lights. The Dodge Ram that had passed her had abruptly locked up its brakes and skidded to the side, blocking the roadway.
Dropping the phone, she slammed down on the GTO’s brake pedal. The tires squealed, and the air filled with the stink of burning rubber.
Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. The lights at her back and the vehicle attached to them kept coming, showing no signs of stopping.
She twisted the wheel to the left in an attempt to abandon the roadway and take the ditch, but the maneuver came too late. The vehicle at her rear, another Dodge truck, caught the GTO’s hindquarter and spun the car in a tight circle. They caught the gravel shoulder, hit the ditch, and rolled over.
Glass, dirt, and rock consumed the air as metal twisted and compressed.
She felt her head strike something hard and immovable and the air leave her lungs. Then the lights blinked out.
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
Munroe searched the pockets of Black’s Nomex flight suit and found several pair of flex cuffs. He used them to tightly secure Black’s wrists and ankles and then called out to Katherine. Using her phone as a light, now that they weren’t being chased, she was able to lead them back to the compound. It was a slow and back-breaking walk as they carried Black’s sleeping form out of the trees. They stood on each side of him, grasping each other’s arms and forming a cradle beneath the unconscious man.
When the lights of the compound came into view and they were clear of the trees, they dropped Black roughly to the ground and caught their breath. All in all, the entire operation had been a complete and total disaster. Almeida had escaped with an extremely dangerous chemical weapon. The HRT members were all likely dead or at least out of commission. And Munroe’s daughters and Black’s nephew were slowly suffocating in a dark hole.
“What now?” Katherine said, breathing hard.
“Is the chopper still there?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s carry Black over to it.”
“Why? What are we going to do when we get him there?”
“We’re going to hitch a ride.”
~~*~~
After throwing Black into the rear of the helicopter, Munroe and Katherine climbed inside and approached the pilot. He was young with blond hair and a pink scar down one cheek. Even with the damage to his face, Katherine thought that he looked like a teenager.
Munroe said, “Get us back to DC.”
The pilot looked toward the compound, confusion evident on his face. “I can’t do that, sir. I’ve lost communication with the team and—”
“So call in backup,” Munroe interrupted.
“I did. A SWAT team from the Baltimore field office was already getting prepped. They’re on the way now.”
“Then the situation here’s under control. When we’re in the air, you can call and tell them to go in with Tasers or other non-lethal weapons. The six men from your team have been exposed to a chemical weapon and will have to be subdued. And we need to get into the air and back to the city, or that same weapon will be released on the US Capitol Building.”
PART SEVEN
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
After switching vehicles, the three men exchanged their tactical gear for tailored suits and headed into the heart of Washington, DC. Almeida knew that he should have been pleased. They had the weapon, and their goal was in reach. But the black case Miguel had retrieved from the research facility still bothered him.
Unable to contain the question any longer, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number for Ramon Castillo’s disposable phone. Castillo greeted him warmly and asked for an update. He explained their progress, but finally, he said, “Miguel retrieved the black case for you.”
Castillo hesitated. “I know. I should have told you about it. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
“Then what is it?”
“Miguel and I have another mission to complete. I just didn’t want to distract you from your own assignment. He’s going to tell you to drop him off at a location away from the Capitol. Please do as he asks.”
/> “What is this other mission?”
“I don’t want to say over the phone. We’ll talk about it when we regroup after our victory is complete. Trust me, my friend.”
“Of course, Vaquero. When we speak again, the American system of government will be in chaos.”
He hung up the phone, but despite Castillo’s assurances, Almeida knew that something was very wrong.
CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
Inside the FBI Director’s private bathroom located on the seventh floor of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, Jonas Black splashed water over his face and popped two more Tylenol into his mouth, although he probably should have been in a hospital. The headache wouldn’t let up, and he hurt all over. But thankfully, he hadn’t broken any bones, and he hadn’t hurt anyone else, at least not permanently. Things could have gone much worse.
He checked his watch and gritted his teeth. In just a few hours, the kids would run out of air. They had let Almeida escape again, and Annabelle’s last report had told them that Munroe’s latest idea about a golf course had proved futile.
Even with the door to the bathroom shut, he heard Munroe arguing with the others. With one last splash of water, he slipped his leather jacket over the filthy T-shirt that he had worn under the Nomex flight suit and stepped back into the fray.
“I’m telling you, this is his target,” Munroe said.
Dark cherry desks and tables and brown leather couches and chairs sat atop cream-colored carpet. The wood-paneled walls matched the cherry color of the furniture and gave the room a cultured but dark ambiance. The other three men and women sitting around the conference table—including FBI Director David Cortez, Director of the Secret Service Peter Hulett, and the Secretary of Homeland Security Linda D’Addario—didn’t seem convinced by Munroe’s arguments.