by Matt King
Ray’s chest seized. The thought of having his choice of death denied after so much pain and suffering gave him a frightened start. He limped past the man, managing only to wheeze out a single word as he passed.
“No.”
He stumbled back to the trail. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the man’s voice. The mere thought of causing Bear harm brought fresh tears to his eyes, but his mind was made up. There was no good way to die, no good way to say goodbye to his son other than to do it quickly so the lives he left behind could move on.
The waterfall lay ahead. Each time he passed a tree, he used it to push himself forward. His breathing dissolved into wheezes that crackled through his chest. All he wanted was to be rid of the pain. He was so close.
A simmering growl rose from the woods.
Ray looked up and stopped. What little breath he had in him fell still.
The ground trembled as a dark gray monster stepped out of the trees at the end of the trail to block his path. Eyes like white fire glared at him above rows of dagger-like fangs. Ray blinked his eyes to clear them, but he hadn’t been seeing things. It was a demon straight out of his nightmares.
Ray looked back. The man and his doorway were gone.
“No,” he said as the beast came crashing down the trail. He began to sob. “Not like this.”
He tried to make it to the water but was betrayed by legs that no longer had the power to run, lungs that had no breath to scream. His glasses slipped off his nose, casting the world in a haze just as the monster caught up to him.
“Johnny?” Ray whispered, looking to the trees above. “Bear?”
A hand grabbed his shoulder. Fingers like knives dug into his skin as the monster threw him to the ground. There was a moment of sharp pain as the talons sunk into the meat of his ribs and pulled. Through his crying and through his pain, Ray tried to keep images of Bear in his head—Bear dancing with his mother the night before her passing. Bear carrying him to safety after the attack in the woods—but the pictures never came. All he could see was the image of Bear finding him this way and it was a pain worse than anything.
Above him, the beast cried out.
Ray closed his eyes and cried along with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There was a moment of weightlessness as Bear stepped through the portal that made his stomach feel as though it had drifted into his throat. The murky haze moved around him like water. His first step on the other side was a stumble as he snapped back into the world. The air smelled different. It was salty, mixed with fumes of machinery. A helicopter took off in the distance. He waited for the dizzying effects of the synapse to wear off before he took stock of his situation. He was in a scrub section of woods near an iron fence interspersed with brick column dividers. The fence ran into the woods on either side in both directions as far as he could see. A road ended at a pair of curved gates just past the edge of the trees.
He knelt as the sound of a car’s engine approached. A black SUV pulled up to the entrance, sporting tinted windows and a flaming bird logo on the passenger door with the word “Phoenix” in bold lettering. Cameras perched on either side of the metal archway focused on the two men in the vehicle. The gate doors parted, allowing the SUV onto a wide tarmac lined with two-story buildings and metal Quonset huts. A single tower rose above the rest of the campus. He wasn’t sure if the place was official military, but it sure looked the part.
The synapse continued to shimmer behind him. He watched it, waiting to make sure Paralos kept his word. After a few seconds, the shadows in the portal began to shift. The campsite appeared as a blur on the surface. He breathed a sigh of relief even though he couldn’t make out his father’s shape in the haze. He hoped he was sleeping.
Paralos told him it would stay open for as long as it took to find August. As for how to go about that, he had a decision to make: approach the gate as he was and do his best to work things out man-to-man, or phase and give things over to Shadow. He eyed a pair of attack helicopters sitting idle on the tarmac in the distance. In another section were three rows of armored vehicles, each with cannons pointing to the sky that looked like they’d been taken off a tank. There was more than enough fire power to deal with her. Even if she survived, though, he couldn’t chance them harming August during the fight.
Maybe the answer was to use both. Hold your gun in one hand while you shake with the other, as Ray once said.
The swords presented another problem. August's sheath wouldn’t fit over his shoulders. He supposed he could sling them over one arm, but the people inside weren’t going to let someone carrying weapons get anywhere close to the man he was after.
He eyed the gap between the fence’s metal spikes. Better than nothing.
He moved through the trees, taking care to stay out of sight of the cameras, and slipped the swords through to the other side. They landed with a clank on the asphalt.
It was time to make his move. Bear stepped through the brush and walked to the center of the road. Once the cameras picked up his movement, they followed him until he stopped in front of the gate. Beneath one of the lenses was a speaker shaped like a megaphone.
“This is private property,” a man’s voice barked. “Turn around and leave, now!”
Bear didn't answer. He could already see two men run out of the nearest building to jump into a Jeep. They had guns strapped to their backs.
“You will not get another warning.”
“I came here to see a man named Coburn,” Bear said.
The speaker went silent as the Jeep pulled up to the gate. Two men armed with automatic weapons jumped out of the convertible. They looked young, maybe a few years out of college, and both had longer hair than he thought was allowed in the military. The blond soldier began walking toward him with his gun aimed at Bear’s chest. The brown-haired man had a wire looped over his ear with a mic attached. He mumbled something under his breath before he addressed Bear.
“Keep those hands where I can see ’em,” he said.
“You don’t need those guns, boys.”
“Hands out in front!”
Bear raised his hands from his side and held them out to the advancing officer. The brown-haired man stayed behind, keeping his sights trained on Bear while the other brought out a pair of handcuffs from a holder on his belt. He approached Bear as though he were trying to throw a leash around a lion.
“I got a problem here, Simpson,” the man said. A name tag on his uniform identified him as Specialist Chalk.
“Just cuff him and put him in the Jeep,” Simpson replied.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Chalk looked back, shrugging his shoulders. “The cuffs won’t fit.”
“I’ll get in the back myself if it means I get to see Coburn,” Bear said. “Will you take me to him?”
“We have orders to take you back to our Security office, sir,” Chalk answered.
“Will he be there?”
“Stop talking to him!” Simpson called out. “Put your hands behind your head and walk to the Jeep.”
Bear clasped his fingers behind his head and walked at gunpoint to the back of the Jeep. It was a quick ride to the security tower. The two-story brick building had few windows and even fewer doors. Soldiers emerged from the lone entrance on the side and filed down a set of metal stairs to meet them at the bottom. He thought of them as soldiers even though they wore solid gray outfits instead of fatigues. A patch was sewn into the arm of their shirts with the Phoenix image emblazoned in orange. Two men walked ahead of him on the staircase while the rest nudged him along with the barrels of their guns. Bear kept a mental count of how many he’d have to deal with if things went bad. There were six in the escort group. The number jumped to at least two dozen when he stepped inside.
He ducked through the doorway and found himself squinting under the brightness of fluorescent lights reflecting against white floors and walls. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows marked the
entrances to offices and computer rooms. Everyone turned to look at him as he was shepherded down the hall. Standing in front of a metal door at the end of the corridor were four men in long black coats, each wearing flat-brimmed cowboy hats. An older man stood in front wearing a brown duster. He looked like he belonged in one of the westerns his father used to watch back when they had a TV. The man motioned for the group to move aside as he opened the door.
Bear met his stare before he dipped through the entryway into a brightly-lit room. A simple white table sat on one side with a single chair behind it. Directly ahead of him was a glass-walled cell with air slits cut into the top. The door to the cell hung open.
“You’ll need to step inside,” one of the soldiers said.
“I don’t think that’s necessary yet,” replied the man in the brown duster. “Our guest can sit at the table. The Horsemen stay. The rest of you leave the room.”
The group of soldiers hesitated, but ultimately gave in to the order. The door shut with a series of mechanical clicks.
Bear stood his ground as the four men took positions against the wall. They held their heads up only enough for him to see their mouths beneath the brim’s shadow. Each wore the same blank expression. Their skin was pasty white.
“I understand you wanted to see me,” the older man said.
“You're Coburn?” Bear asked, looking down at him.
The man took a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his coat pocket and shook it until one came out. He placed it in between his lips and lit the end. “I am, and these are my Horsemen. What brings you to our facility?”
“I came here for August Dillon.”
Coburn squinted as he blew out a cloud of white smoke. “I expected more than just you.”
“I’m enough.”
Bear grabbed Coburn’s coat with both hands and slammed him headfirst into the table, holding back just enough not to kill him. He held onto the coat to spin Coburn around, throwing him into a headlock as he faced the four men in black. To a man, the Horsemen produced a pair of curved weapons from inside their coats, like brass knuckles topped with a crescent blade. Bear held Coburn up like a shield. He shook the man to make sure he was conscious.
“Take another step and he dies,” Bear warned.
They moved forward anyway, branching off into two-man teams on either side of the room.
He tightened his grip.
“No,” Coburn choked out. He held his hand up, bringing a stop to the Horsemen’s advance.
Bear edged closer to the cell. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “One of you is going to tell me where August is. Then I’m going to leave here. If anyone follows me, they won't be coming back. Do you understand me?”
Coburn struggled to spit out words. “Ca…peak.”
Without taking his eyes off the Horsemen, Bear loosened the pressure on Coburn’s neck enough to let him get a breath.
“They can’t speak,” Coburn said.
Behind them, the door buzzed, releasing the locks as a handful of soldiers rushed into the room with guns pointed. Bear turned around, shifting Coburn’s shield between the men with guns and the Horsemen with their knives. The men looked scared. The Horsemen looked hungry.
“Don’t,” Coburn said, holding out his hand again to stop the soldiers. “Put your weapons down.”
The group stood fast.
“Listen to the man,” Bear said.
One-by-one, they lowered their weapons until they were pointed at the floor. Bear kept his eye on the Horsemen.
“You see what you’re up against,” Coburn said. “There’s a hundred other men out there ready to take you down. You won’t make it past the gate.”
“I'll take my chances. Now, where is August?”
Bear jerked Coburn’s feet off the floor and tightened his grip on the man’s neck until his face was the shade of a ripe apple. After a series of sputtering coughs, Coburn signaled with a wave to let him down. Bear lowered him to the floor.
“My pocket,” Coburn said, gasping for breath. He pointed to the lower left side of his coat.
Bear’s eyes shifted between the soldiers and the Horsemen before he reached down with his free hand. He pulled out an oval electronic device with a single button on the front. “What is this?”
“GPS.”
Bear’s face went flush. He lowered his voice. “How do I use it?”
“August’s position is marked.” Coburn pressed a button on the screen. A map came up with a dotted line on it, ending in a pulse of blue light over water. “You’ll need a boat.”
Bear took the GPS and pocketed it. “You fellas move away from the door.”
“Do what he says.”
The group of soldiers stepped back into the hallway.
Bear moved toward the door, holding Coburn on his hip, facing the Horsemen. Soldiers lined the halls, watching him head toward the door. Those with guns stood in doorways. Those without watched from behind the safety of the glass walls. Not a single one looked at Coburn’s face. Whether through frightened eyes or steeled glares, they all had eyes on Bear.
He stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door a crack.
“Are you like him?” Coburn spoke under his breath. The question sounded hopeful.
Bear didn’t answer.
“You won’t make it out of here. We’ll be coming for you.”
He leaned down as he squeezed Coburn’s neck. “You may scare these boys but you don't scare me. I'm not like August. There’s something inside me, something you don’t want to bring out. Cross me and you'll die screaming, you and all your men. Do you understand?”
Coburn gave a single nod.
“Remember what I said.”
Bear threw him to the floor and ducked out through the doorway. His work boots clanged against the metal stairs. He vaulted over the railing once he got near the bottom and ran for the spot where he'd left August’s swords. They were spread out on the tarmac in an X. He grabbed the sheath and looked back to the base. Shadows rushed back and forth behind the window shades, but no one had ventured outside.
He held up Coburn’s GPS. The dotted line pointed north, directly at a road running into a stand of trees heavy with moss.
An alarm sounded. He took off in a sprint toward the cover of forest, hoping to put as much distance as he could between himself and the men sure to be chasing him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Are you okay, sir?” one of the men asked as they tugged at Coburn’s arms.
Coburn lifted himself with the help of the radar operator. His face was still red even though the giant’s arm was no longer around his neck. He wiped the sleeves of his coat slowly to let his anger be whisked away like dust. The gesture did little to quell his frustration, frustration with his inability to get what he needed from Dillon, frustration with the embarrassment that was the Phoenix guard, and most disappointing of all, the frustration brought on by his once-dependable Horsemen.
He could feel the eyes of the men on him, waiting to know how to react. Coburn kept his outer demeanor calm to remind them that he was in control.
“Someone turn off that alarm,” he said.
The crowd of soldiers parted as he walked down the hall toward the surveillance room. He grabbed his hat from one of them and smoothed out the brim before placing it on his head. Outside, the alarm wound down to silence. The Horsemen were already in the room, waiting for his orders. He would deal with their failure to act in his defense once Dillon and his friend were safely tucked away in their cells. He would show the Horsemen that despite Dillon's power, he was still only a man, and anything he was given could freely be given to another more deserving. Or taken.
The surveillance team took their seats in front of the monitors. Their supervisor walked to Coburn’s side. “I’ll have him on infrared once our choppers get in the air.”
“Belay that order,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to see where he came from first.”
The supervisor led him to a row of screens showing the base's video feeds. “He was on foot. Came in at the front gate.”
“Show me.”
The supervisor directed one of the operators to rewind the security footage from the main entrance. The shadows from the trees moved like clock hands until the image of the man appeared at the gate.
“That’s where our men engaged,” the supervisor said.
Frozen on the screen was an image of two soldiers standing at the gates with their guns drawn, pointed at the intruder.
“Go back farther.”
The screen flickered as the video rewound. As soon as the man disappeared from the frame, the supervisor had the operator run it forward slowly.
“I can’t see where he came from,” Coburn said.
“Those cameras were fixed on that position.”
“So give me another view.”
The specialist tapped at his keyboard until the video feed from the cameras outside the security building came up. He cued the tape to the point where the man appeared in the road, then ran it backwards in slow motion.
Coburn leaned in. “Stop there.” Dillon's friend dropped something through the gate before he came inside. Even zoomed in, it was impossible to see what it was. “Tell your men that the subject might be armed. Go back farther.”
The video showed the man coming out of the forest. He appeared to be standing in place at one point, then disappeared in mid-stride.
“What in the hell just happened?” the supervisor said. “Loop that.”
They watched it over and over again. Each time, the man seemed to appear out of thin air like he’d just walked through an invisible door. Coburn looked over his shoulder at the Horsemen. They traded glances between them.
“Sir, look there.”
He turned back to the monitor.
“Something appears to be moving in the brush. Looks like heat waves coming up from the ground. The air is distorted just before he appears. It’s like he walks right out of the air….” The supervisor straightened. “I can send one of my men out to investigate. It’s probably just a problem with the video. We can find his tracks.”